#jason's JACKET on the other hand... now THAT'S a character.

[olreid]

just found your blog and I LOVE finding someone who understands and enjoys discussing riverdale for what it is, and who analyses it from a similar pov as I do(rare). I found your description from a previous post fascinating “jason is not a person or even really a character; he is a myth, an amalgamation of conflicting testimonies, a memory and therefore a mirror.” I’ve always seen jason as a symbol of sorts, rvd’s inciting incident, the uncovering of its shadows. I’m curious about your take on jason as a myth, the meaning of him and his death. essentially I find your take/description a lot more thoughtful than mine, and would love you to expand on it?! (sorry if you’ve answered this before, and I would love a link to that post!).

ty! i dont think ive talked about jason much on this blog but the jason tag from my liveblog might be of interest! i can say some more about him by way of summarizing my basic thoughts, under a cut because it got long lol

re: the description of jason you quote, everything about my reading of him stems from the fact that he is dead before the story begins. the show, whether intentionally or not, supports this reading by rarely flashing back to jason. in the few short flashbacks we do get, it's always because someone else is narrating their version of events leading up to his murder. in those scenes, he rarely acts, he does not emote; he never speaks, even when people are asking him a direct question, as cheryl does at sweetwater river: "are you afraid?" (i will say in fairness that this is consistent with how riverdale tends to approach flashbacks overall; usually the people in the scene don't talk because someone else is narrating. HOWEVER imo it does really stand out in jason's portrayal in particular.) all of this makes it hard for the viewer to get any information about jason for themselves, because our usual technologies of omniscience don't seem to apply when it comes to jason; the very format of the story prevents us from being able to meaningfully access him in the time before his death.

because of this lack, all we have to go on are the words of those who knew him, which may or may not be truthful and which produce a conflicting portrait of the person he was before he died. according to polly, he was a saint; according to alice and hal, he was the devil incarnate. we're told he would never hurt polly only to be shown that he cited her as a sexual conquest; we're told he was a model of perfect behavior only to discover he dealt drugs. these reversals are reversed; the drug deal which at first is cited as evidence of his dangerous character is later framed as the last resort of a boy attempting to escape his controlling parents. ultimately everyone has something different to say about jason, such that their testimony tells us more about them than about jason himself. that's what i meant by jason as mirror; people look at him and see what they want to see. they use his story for their own ends, to push their own agendas and ideas about what kind of town riverdale is and what kinds of people live in it.

this leads us to jason as myth; jason's murder ruptures the previously dominant collective myth about riverdale, namely that it was an innocent and picturesque small town. of course there were people whose experiences proved this to be false even before jason was killed, but by and large the governing structures in riverdale managed to marginalize and suppress those perspectives in order to preserve the idea that riverdale was fundamentally and essentially a happy, good, and safe place to live. after jason's death, the town as a whole has to find a new story to tell about itself; they have to find a way to incorporate this atrocity into their collective history and also retain the ability to go on living in riverdale. in trying to fix the events of jason's death in place, in order to find or create a story about what happened that everyone can agree on, the town is scrambling to recuperate its own image, to stabilize its identity.

the story that emerges from this struggle is that jason's death corrupted riverdale. this allows the town to preserve untarnished the image of innocent, wholesome pre-s1 riverdale that it held so dearly and allows the residents to sustain the hope that there might be some way to return riverdale to that innocent state, if only they can figure out how. after all, if riverdale WAS truly innocent at one point, even if it's innocent no longer, than surely it can be so again. some residents earnestly believe this to be true; some are more jaded about riverdale's redemptive potential and simply use this narrative as a means to their own ends (see hal terrorizing betty via the ostensible project of cleansing the town of sinners & hiram and hermione consolidating power while framing it as a return to a safer riverdale).

however, whether sincere or not, none of these efforts have anything to do with jason as a person; none of it is about honoring his memory or remembering his life. for the town's purposes, he is nothing more than the crisis of collective identity and reckoning sparked by his death. as ive already said, this is repeatedly reinforced by cinematic choices made throughout the show, by the fact that we arrive after jason is gone and are never allowed to meet him or hear his account of the story. even when he furnishes the clue that solves his own murder, via a zip drive discovered in his letterman jacket, he does so through a video that proves to be a clip in which jason never speaks and is positioned so that he faced away from the camera. his only movement is the result of clifford's shot, his head falling forward onto his chest. his own accusal of his murderer is wordless, motionless, and does not give us access to any interiority; it does not help us to know him better. ultimately, we can make no judgements about his character, because there is no character to speak of. within the context of the show, he is what others say about him and do to him, and nothing more.

[threestarsinline]

Children's Books and Leather Jackets (Part I)

Jason Todd x reader one-shot

Summary: You couldn't love your job more. Or at least, that's what you thought, until Jason Todd started coming into the bookshop every week without fail, like clockwork. And then you form a connection that tilts your whole world on its axis.

Word Count: 13.6K (total of 29.2K)

Category: Lots and lots of fluff. Like, LOTS (plus some mutual pining, idiots in love, slow burn? and friends to lovers, and therefore, what all of that entails, mwah)

Warnings: Jason stealing your heart (and you stealing his)

Author’s note: Well, here's the proof that yes, I was writing hehehe. Anyway, enjoy this monster of a two-part fic, peace and love babes

>Part II

You loved your job. You really truly did. It might seem like a bold statement to make but when you spend your day to day in a quiet, lovely and vintage styled bookshop owned by the most wonderful couple of old people that you have ever met, who also treat you as their own granddaughter, you know that you could have it a lot worse in Gotham. You often forget that they are technically your bosses, or co-workers as they always corrected you when you referred to them as such.

Rose and Jimmy hired you a long time ago now, when they weren’t able to run the bookshop fulltime by themselves anymore due to the rise of popularity of the place (even though the customers were still just a close community of people from the neighborhood). And also because, after decades of running the bookshop, they wanted to finally kind of retire and do a few travels to places they wanted to see or visit their children scattered throughout the country.

So there you were, practically running all by yourself a small but successful business each week.

However, you weren’t bothered at all, it was perfect for you: working alone with no annoying co-workers or stressful deadlines, a flexible schedule since Rose and Jimmy would replace you here and there whenever you needed it and giving you free days out of the blue. 

It also didn’t hurt that the job allowed you to stay in touch with the thing that you loved the most: books. Pages, full of stories that could transport you anywhere, to any time. Words, creating characters that became your family and made you laugh while also breaking your heart with their tragedies. And the possibility of sharing all of this with the people who came into the bookshop from all kinds of different backgrounds made it all even better.

Let’s just say that you couldn’t believe your luck when you got this job. Your day to day consisted of, among other things, attending customers, organizing the bookshelves, doing inventory and most of all: reading. There were certain moments of the day in which the shop was quite uneventful so you would seize those moments by doing all the reading that you could.

You really thought that you couldn’t love your job more. But that was until a gorgeous and very mysterious young man with a white streak in his hair started coming every week into the shop and giving you a smile every time that he left. 

You got it bad.

And your crush on Jason Todd did nothing but increase. You were sure that that man was going to be the death of you.

The first time that Jason walked into the bookshop you were surprised to say the least. You had never seen him in the shop before yet he walked towards a section in the bookshelves of the back with firm and secure steps.

He came back to the register with three children’s books to check out. That surprised you even more. He certainly didn’t look like the type of person that you would expect to get children’s books. He had a rough appearance with his tall frame, dark hair and (fake) leather jacket.

But he was nothing but polite as he greeted you and handed you his bookshop card.

The shop also acted as a library with several books, Rose and Jimmy having implemented the idea after there was an attack at the public library that left the place in reforms for months.

It also allowed the people who couldn’t buy books that regularly to still be able to have new books since you only had to pay for the card when you first got it and pay the small fee for the membership every two months. Or every month if you wanted more perks like extended loans or not having a limit on the amount of books allowed to be checked out.

Most of that money was also directly donated to different causes in Gotham like orphanages and homeless shelters. The community loved Rose and Jimmy for all of that, it was like they were their guardian angels, some customers had told you that they were godsent. 

As you proceeded to scan the books that the mysterious young man had brought you, you realized that his card was fairly new and came to the conclusion that Rose must have given it to him the week before, when you had your free day. 

“Do you have The Rainbow Fish? I tried to look for it but I couldn’t find it.” He spoke up and you looked up at him, surprised once more, since most people either loved or hated that book.

“Uhm. If it’s not on the shelf, it must have been checked out. Let me see.” You looked it up on the computer. “Yeah, someone took it a few days ago. We should have it by next week, I can keep it in reserve for you if you’d like.” The information seemed to please him since his face lighted up and he let out a sigh of relief.

“That would be great, thank you.”

“No problem. Have a nice day.” You gave him back the books and his card and as you looked at him you realized that he had a very nice smile. You wondered if he would come back often to the bookshop. 

“You too.” He said as he opened the door.

And in fact, he did come back to the bookshop rather often, at least once a week and always looking for children’s books. You were very curious about it since it wasn’t very common to see a man like him taking so many children’s books with him.

You couldn’t help but speculate, maybe he was close with kids in his family or maybe he did some kind of volunteering. Either way, you weren’t going to ask, it was out of place and you didn’t know him. 

Then, he started checking out other books, this time fiction and most of all classic literature. He sometimes even bought the ones that really brought out his attention. He would always strike up friendly conversation with you as he came to the counter with new books to buy or check out, asking you about some book or asking you for recommendations.

On your most brave days, not really knowing what you were doing, you would even make a comment about the books that he was taking with him and he answered you with enthusiasm, commenting on them with you.

Soon, you were on a first name basis with him and something similar to a friendship blossomed between you two. You started giving snippets of each other's lives, you telling him about a show that you were watching that you really liked or him telling you about one of his siblings’s latest shenanigans.

Jason coming into the shop became something that you looked forward to and Rose and Jimmy, who some days spend the day in the shop helping you out, also saw how close you two were becoming.

Jason even befriended them too and the owners soon treated him like a grandson just like they had done with you so long ago. Jimmy sometimes shoved in his hand his famous homemade cookies and Rose tried to give him a discount for the books that he bought but Jason, like always, refused to accept it. 

“What? You’re supposed to leave them inside, it’s on the delivery contract.” You add frustrated.

“Whatever you say. Not my problem.” The new delivery man doesn’t even look at you as he recklessly puts the last of the boxes of new book orders on the sidewalk.

Looking at the now damaged box you grimace. You really hoped that the books inside were okay. They were like your babies.

The man takes his cigarette out of his mouth and puts it out on top of one of the boxes knowingly, looking you dead in the eyes as if challenging you to say something else.

You know that starting a confrontation would get you nowhere, it would be better to file a complaint later that you know would have consequences for him since the delivery service and the bookshop had always had a trusting relationship.

So, knowing to pick your battles, you put on a smile and thank him. The man seems surprised at that, surely used to having excuses to play the bully. He just huffs, gets on the truck and leaves. You nod to yourself proudly, you won. But your small, triumphant moment ends as soon as you see the large number of boxes that you now have to carry inside on your own. 

Oh, how you missed Charlie.

Charlie was the delivery man before he retired. It had been his job for more than fifty years and even now he was as strong as ever and he had always helped you with the boxes and made you laugh with his adventures from his younger years. 

You always gave him a cup of coffee from the machine in the small back room that worked as a break room as he tried to set you up with his grandchildren. Telling you how amazing they were and how one of them was about to become a doctor.

“I’m sorry, Charlie. I’m sure they’re great.” You would always tell him. Because they did sound nice but none of them lived in Gotham. Charlie then would fake a disappointed sigh but the crinkles of a smile around his eyes would always appear.

“Well, let me know if you change your mind, sweetie.” A pause. “Though you should forget about trying here, there isn’t anyone worthy in this godforsaken city.” He would joke.

“Except you, Charlie.” You’d say brightly while winking at him jokingly. And then he would laugh the way only one can when they are satisfied with their life and as happy as they can be, something very rare. 

“Don’t let Mary hear you, I know she doesn’t look like it but she can throw a punch.” His eyes would shine with love as he mentioned his wife.

“I don’t doubt it.” You’d answer.

You are brought out of your memories when a voice calls your name.

“Y/N, hi.” You turn to see Jason and you can't help the immediate smile that makes its way across your lips.

“Hi. How are you?”

“I’m good. I was just about to go in when I saw you out here. What’s all of this?” He looks around at all the boxes that the pedestrians were avoiding.

“Delivery day.” You say as you take one of the boxes in your arms. His eyes widen. With that funny expression on his face he looked cute, which made him even more handsome than usual. It wasn’t even fair.

Focus, Y/N.

“And you always do this alone?” 

“No, the new delivery guy is just an idiot. Charlie always helped me.”

“Charlie?” He raises an eyebrow as he too grabs a box from the floor.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

“I’m helping you.” He replies without hesitation, you shake your head.

“I can’t let you do that, you’re a customer.”

“It’s no problem. Plus, this way you will finish this earlier and you can recommend me another book after the heartbreak that you gave me with the last one.”

“Sorry.” You say, trying to contain a giggle. He narrows his eyes at you.

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not.” You confess, this time laughing freely.

You didn’t know it but Jason thought that you looked beautiful. Even more so than some days, if that was even possible, with the wind carrying your laugh to him and rustling your hair. God, he was in deep.

“So, are you going to let me help you or not?”

“Fine.” You finally comply.

And as you two enter the boxes he repeats his question from earlier. “Well, who’s Charlie?”

“Oh, just the best delivery old man you will ever meet.” You answer, your affection for the man clearly present in your voice.

“Do you collect them?”

“What?” You ask confused.

“Grandparents, old people. You have your own grandparents, Rose, Jimmy and now I learn about this Charlie. Do you collect them?” You smile at his comment. Truth was, he had a point.

“Well, I guess you could say that. In fact, now that I think about it, most of my friends are old people. I mean, it kind of makes sense, my perfect Friday night is staying at home reading with a hot chocolate.” For a moment silence settles between you and you worry that you might have overshared and that you were creeping him out. 

“You’re an old soul.” He finally says. And the way that he does so makes you stop, like he admires you for it, as if he likes the peace that comes with such a statement.

“Maybe.” You reply, resuming your step.

“I wish I could do that.” You arch an eyebrow. “Stay at home at night during the weekends and just relax.” He adds.

“Why’s that?”

“I work nights.” 

“Oh. It must be hard.”

“Yeah, sometimes it is.” After saying that his gaze gets lost, as if for a moment he wasn’t there with you anymore, but deep into his thoughts and memories.

“Do you have any? Grandparents, I mean.” You say to distract him and bring him back.

“Just one, Alfred. Although he is in more the middle of being a father and a grandfather. He raised me along with Bruce.” As soon as he says that, you know that he is just as surprised at himself as much as you are at the confession since it is by far the most personal thing that he had ever shared with you.

It is also clear that there was a lot of history behind that statement. It seems a serious matter and the other times that you two talked, he mostly kept it lighthearted with you.

The mysterious man that had first entered into the bookshop had let you see a crack in him. He trusts you. Or at least, he was beginning to do so in a more personal way. You only feel lucky that you are being able to get closer to him.

You sense how his instinct to flight was about to strike, clearly not used to this kind of situation and being awkward about how to manage it. So, you decide to change the topic, in what you think is a smooth way, to relax the ambience and to selfishly see if you could keep him at your side just a little bit longer.

“Well, I can share Rose and Jimmy with you then. As long as you don’t steal my spot as their favorite bookshop grandkid.” Just as you finish talking you see him visibly relax, his tense shoulders acquiring a more loosen stance.

Then, almost unnoticeably, a small smile forms on his lips and another one makes its way to your own.

“Deal.” He ends up saying.

After you both bring in all the boxes, and you check them into the inventory, you open them to put the books in the correspondent shelves. You turn to thank Jason for the help but he's already passing you some of the books for you to place them.

“Thank you, but you don’t have to do this. You already did too much.”

“Nope. I’m not leaving.” He just hands you the books in his grasp and grabs some more. You stand there stunned. Where did this gorgeous kind man come from?

“Okay. At least let me give you a coffee.” You go to the break room and not even a moment later, after quickly asking him how he liked it, not even giving him the option to refuse it, you return with a cup in your hands. He whispers a thank you and when you hand it to him, his fingers so lightly graze yours, making your breath hitch in your throat. 

“You don’t want one?” He asks, seeing that you had only brought a single cup.

“Oh, I don’t like coffee much.” He nods and then you get to work, looking at the books, classifying them and ordering them.

Jason keeps passing them to you and sipping the coffee in the comfortable silence. He’s glad that you’re so concentrated because that way you won’t notice how entranced he is with you. He watches you and just by your movements he knows that you’re in your element. It was clear that you enjoyed what you did.

At some point, you start humming a repertoire of the songs from Beauty and the Beast, probably without realizing it. Jason doesn’t mention it, knowing that most likely you would become ashamed and stop.

So, Jason lets the moment pass by, your company and the peaceful atmosphere of the bookshop making a warm feeling wash over him. Making him feel safe and relaxed. Something that didn’t usually happen to him, but that being in the bookshop and in your presence, always made him feel that way.

When he eventually left, you didn’t even realize that he had done so without taking any book with him.

“Hey.”

The sudden voice makes you stumble on the ladder that you were on to return a book to its place in one of the top shelves. You know that there is nothing that you can do to prevent your fall but still in a hopeful attempt, you drop the book that was in your hand to the floor, and extend your arms to try and gain some balance. 

All of this happens in milliseconds and even then, you have time to exclaim “Jesus!” from the surprise, preparing yourself in any way you can for your imminent fate. 

However, just as fast as it all happened, a hand settles on your waist to stabilize you and another one grips the ladder to stop its wobbling. And just like that, you’re back on your feet again. You look down and there he is.

Your knight in shining leather jacket.

“Not exactly but close enough.” Jason can’t help replying to your previous exclamation. It had never crossed his mind before but now that he thinks about it, he realizes that he has something quite peculiar in common with the biblical figure. With all the ‘been dead done that’ stuff. The weird coincidence and his own comment making him chuckle to himself. 

You also huff out a small laugh, not at his comment, that you couldn't possibly fully understand, not yet, but at your own clumsiness. Laughing being almost always your immediate reaction whenever you fell or, like in this case, almost did. 

“Oh my god, thank you.” You say relieved with a thankful smile on your face.

“It’s nothing. I’m sorry actually, you almost died because of me.” 

“No, don’t worry, you just surprised me. Plus, me and high places have never been a great combination.” He chuckles at your comment and you smile in return.

Much to your disappointment, he lets go of your waist, but it doesn’t last long as he holds out his hand for you to help you come down from the ladder. You know that he’s just being polite and that you should finish what you were doing on the ladder but after the brief scare you’d like to put your feet on firm ground again for even just a small bit.

That, and the fact that you would take any chance that you could get to be close to Jason and hold his hand. Honestly, who wouldn’t?

So, you accept his hand and, just to be even more safe and avoid any possible risk of course, not for any other reason, you support yourself on his shoulder on the way down. He leads you to the ground with a small smile on his face and then sadly, lets go of your hand.

You miss the contact instantly.

“There we go.” He says, so low, that it’s almost like a whisper.

You take a moment to address him and look him over, the feel of his strong shoulder under your hand still tickling your fingers at your side. And for a split second, just a tiny little one, you wish that you had actually fallen from the ladder so that he could have caught you in his arms.

Damn it.

Now that the idea had occurred to you, you would think about it for days. 

Jason leans down to retrieve the book that you had dropped earlier and with an ease and balance that you could only dream of, he returns it to the open spot that you had been reaching for on the top shelf. It makes you both jealous and in awe of the way in which he can almost effortlessly do so. Even though even he had to step onto the first step of the ladder to reach it.

Stupid tall attractive people.

Jason enters the bookshop excited to see you. He hadn’t been able to come by for a few days and he did not like it one bit. Coming to see you were the best parts of his week, because if he was being honest, the books themselves had stopped being a motivator a long time ago.

Probably the second or third time that he had visited the bookshop.

He was just thankful that you didn’t seem to notice that you were the main reason that he came by. You would probably think that he was being creepy. However, much to his dismay, Rose and Jimmy were very much aware of how much he liked you.

They always had that knowing smile whenever they saw you two talking and they definitely knew about the insane amount of books that he checked out weekly as an excuse to see you. Books that were impossible for him to read from one visit to another in such a short amount of time and that just spent several days stacked in his house.

Thankfully, for the moment, they had never said something to you or directly commented it to him either, as they wisely knew that you two needed to take things at your own pace.

He closes the entrance door behind him and his brows furrow in confusion not seeing you behind the counter, where he would usually find you reading or taking care of a customer. Maybe you’re in the bathroom, doing something in the break room or organizing the shelves.

But then, Rose emerges from the break room behind the counter greeting him.

Oh.

A slight feeling of disappointment settles in him. It’s not that he didn't like Rose, he really enjoyed chatting with her, he just really wanted to see you. And if Rose was here maybe you weren’t working today. But it couldn’t be, you always worked Thursdays.

Not that he had paid any attention to your schedule or anything.

Then it suddenly occurs to him that maybe you have taken the day off. He’s as happy for you as much as he’s disappointed. Everyone knew that you worked too much for your own good.

Still, the selfish part of him wanted to spend just a tiny little bit of time with you.

“Good afternoon, Rose. How are you?” Jason finally greets back.

“I’m good, sweetie, just checking day. And you?”

“Glad to hear it. I’m fine too. Just came in looking for…” Damn it, he didn’t even prepare an excuse of a book. A few seconds trail on and Jason still doesn’t say anything.

“For a…” He had been caught like a deer in headlights. He avoids Rose’s intense gaze that was still set on him waiting for him to say something. This is so embarrassing. And he was supposed to be one of the daring vigilantes of Gotham?

Pathetic. That’s what he was.

He could face villains but he couldn’t come up for an excuse to see you. Jason clears his throat.

“For a…” Jason’s starting to worry that he has entered some sort of self loop and is about to facepalm himself for his own stupidity when Rose’s lips break into a wide grin and she chuckles. She was messing with him. Like always, she definitely knew what exactly he was in there for. Jason smiles and lets out a sigh of relief.

“She’s on her break.” Rose says, nodding his head in your direction, towards the shelves. 

“Thank you.” Jason turns to go find you when Rose speaks up once again.

“Oh and, by the way, since you’re on it, can you get her for me please? I want to tell her something and I’m about to meet Jimmy for lunch.”

“Of course.” He answers while Rose gives him a thankful smile.

Jason starts to pace through the bookshelves, looking for you, but you’re nowhere to be found.

Until he passes by between a couple of them and sees something on the floor. He takes a couple of steps back and there you are, sitting on the floor with books about to be shelved, he supposes, and a book in your own hands that must have had you so immersed and distracted that you hadn’t heard him come in, nor his conversation with Rose.

A fond smile makes an appearance on his lips. He loved seeing you like this, in the place that you loved most, doing what you loved most, lost in a book. He realizes that he would never get tired of that sight. Still, it’s an intimate and private moment for you and he doesn’t want to linger too much on it and intrude. Plus, Rose was looking for you.

“Hi.” He says softly as to not startle you, after the scare from the last time. Which by the way, had been replaying in his head over and over again, the electrifying feeling of your hand in his forever engraved in his mind.

“Y/N.” He tries.

Nothing. That book really had you in a trance. He huffs a small laugh and takes a couple of steps closer to you, hands in his pockets. 

“Earth to Y/N.” You let out a small hum to acknowledge him but your gaze is still fixed on the ink. He’s about to call you again when you finally get out of your trance and steal a quick look to see who had talked to you.

Your eyes widen like plates, probably realizing that you had spent too long reading on the floor. You quickly get up and Jason notices how even in your distressed state, you close the book with care and slightly organize the mess around you, your hands treating each book carefully.

He wonders if you would treat him with the same carefulness and affection. For a split second, he even wishes it was him that your hands were treating and not books. Jealousy over books. Huh, that was new.

He also couldn’t help but wonder if you were that way with everything. If even when you weren’t at your best, or going through something, treating things, people, the world around you with care and kindness came as second nature to you, sometimes without even realizing it. He had a feeling that the answer was yes.

And once again, he realizes how much the dark part of his life clashed so much with yours. But before he can get too much into his own head, once more, just like several times before, you bring him back. 

“Oh my god, Jason, I’m so sorry.” You start, taking the few steps that separated you from him. “I don’t know how it happened, I swear. God, were you waiting a lot?” He doesn’t like the worry settled on your features one bit, like always, making him feel uneasy. Like the other previous few times that he has seen you like this, he makes it his mission and his top priority to change it.

“No, not at all. Don’t worry.” You nod while your tense posture finally seems to relax a bit. “You okay?” He adds.

“Yeah, yeah. I just… Got a little bit distracted.” You say as you retrieve the books from the floor and your head motions towards them. Jason smiles at you, knowing the feeling of being so engrossed in a book that everything else faded away.

“Rose was looking for you by the way. She was about to head out to meet Jimmy.”

“Oh, right.”

When you both go back towards the counter and you take your usual spot behind it, Rose is already putting her coat on and about to leave.

“I’m so sorry Rose, I got myself carried away and…” You start but Rose stops you with a shake of her head.

“It’s okay, honey. Just wanted to let you know that I’m leaving now.” You let out a sigh of relief. You really have the best bosses in the world.

“Okay, have a nice lunch.”

“Thank you, darling. Goodbye kids.”

“Goodbye.” Both you and Jason say. And just before Rose closes the door behind her, she winks at you and you feel your cheeks warm at the unspoken insinuation. Enjoy your time alone. You steal a quick look at Jason, hoping that he hasn’t seen Rose’s wink and sigh in relief when you see that he’s already turned towards you, facing away from the door.

Though, now that you think about it, you could swear that it was Jimmy the one that was supposed to meet Rose at the bookshop today, not the other way around. That woman was too smart for her own good.

“Well, what can I do for you today?” You ask Jason once you turn towards him.

“I…” Quick, Jason, think. “Could you extend my loan for the book from last week?” Nice save.

“Sure.” As you click on the computer, Jason takes a look at the stack of books that you had brought back with you from the shelves and that you have left on the counter.

“What got you so entranced back there?”

“Oh.” You say and you turn to the stack of books. Your eyes shining with excitement now. “We just got these new Jane Austen hardcovers and they’re just so gorgeous, look.”

You take the one on top of the stack, the one that you had been reading, and hand it to him. Pride and Prejudice. He takes it from your hands, your fingertips slightly grazing one another’s. Jason looks at the cover that feels soft yet sturdy in his hands. It was simple with just the title of the book and Austen’s name but the intricate and beautiful designs that decorated it made it, as you had said, a gorgeous edition.

“Wow. These are great.” He says with childlike wonder lacing his tone. He opens the book and his eyes skim over the pages and passages that he has read so many times before.

“I know, right? I was just admiring them one last time before putting them on the shelves and I just opened one to read a couple of paragraphs but next thing I know, I was ten pages in. I swear I didn’t mean for it to happen.” You confess. Jason laughs softly.

“Don’t worry, that’s just the Jane Austen effect. I get it, it happens to me too.” You can’t help but stare at him for a few seconds, blinking slowly, processing the newfound information. Thankfully, he’s still engrossed in the book.

This man likes Jane Austen? Is he trying to kill you or something? As if you couldn’t like him even more.

“You like Austen?” You ask, still a bit in disbelief, though it doesn’t really surprise you, since from the very beginning you had noticed how he was a very cultured person and how he had a great taste in books.

How sexy is that? To you, very. Very sexy.

“I love her. Basic, I know, but this one’s my favorite.” He answers as he puts the book back on top of the stack. As if anything in him could be basic, as if you don’t find him to be one of the most fascinating persons that you have ever met in your entire life.

“It’s not basic, it’s great. I love it too but I think that I prefer Northanger Abbey.” You pause. “Or Persuasion.” You pause again. “Or Emma.” You pause to think once more and Jason looks at you amused, loving how passionate you are when talking about it. “Or… Okay well, I love all of them! I can’t choose just one.” Jason smirks.

“Perfectly valid and understandable answer.” He says. You both look at each other for a second too long and then his phone starts ringing, breaking the moment. You give a slight jump and busy yourself going back to finish renewing his loan on the computer.

But to your surprise, he just takes it out of his pocket, looks quickly at the screen and directly hangs up. You raise an eyebrow but continue with your task, a small smile making its way across your lips, flattered that he prefers to keep talking to you rather than picking up his phone.

“Well, done. You have another week to…” You’re interrupted when his phone rings again. Jason huffs annoyed and silences it again.

“Sorry.” He says. You shake your head.

“It’s okay.” The phone rings a third time. It must be really important. “Though I think you should take it.” Jason looks at his phone in his hands, then at you, back at his phone, and then at you again, still doubtful, but you nod encouragingly. He seems torn and undecided, but he finally nods to himself and gives you an apologetic look before answering.

“What?” He says annoyingly, taking a couple of steps away from the counter as you pretend to check things on the computer and try (and fail) not to eavesdrop.

He’s going to kill Steph. He really is. She never calls him and now there is something so important that she has to call him three times and interrupt his talk with you? It better be good. 

“Heyyy. Jaybiiird. My bestieeee, the best vigilante in Gotham that there is.” Jason can already start to feel a headache forming, he brings a palm to his face and then runs it through his hair. You watch the gesture with envy. How many times had you daydreamed about doing the very same gesture? Probably too many.

“I can’t talk right now.” He quickly glances at you, still at the computer. This is stupid.

“Pleaseeee, I need your help.” At her pleading tone Jason sighs tiredly and pinches his nose, even though he knows that he shouldn’t be listening. With the way that she’s talking it’s probably a stupid favor or something, he would much rather be talking with you.

“Steph, what do you want?”

Steph? At that your head perks up slightly. His girlfriend, maybe? Your shoulders deflate thinking of the possibility. He had never mentioned having one but you also had never asked. Why would you even ask? You’re just friends, or something like that, it would seem like it was coming out of nowhere. As your thoughts keep spiraling and you stare blankly at the screen in front of you, Jason carries on with his conversation.

“You’re going to laugh…” Steph starts.

Jason rolls his eyes, catches your eyes and mouths my sister. You just nod and your spiraling thoughts stop abruptly. Thank god. Although the possibility of him having a girlfriend is still there, now that you don’t have to face it directly, you decide not to linger too much on it. Keeping the thought away and trying to ignore it, just like you had been doing since you met him. That’s a future problem for future you.

Jason changes his phone from one ear to the other as he listens to Steph stumble through her words. If she’s going to keep beating around the bush, he might as well hang up.

“Okay, bye.” He’s about to end the call when Steph speaks up again.

“I lost Damian.” Jason’s eyes widen as he turns to his other side.

“You what?” He whisper-shouts into the phone. 

“Okay so, Damian is grounded, okay? Something about driving the batmobile without permission and then…”

“Steph.” Jason warns through gritted teeth, clearly meaning go to the point.

“Okay, okay! So, I’m on babysitting duty alright? And Damian had been talking non stop about this new limited art exposition in the museum that he wanted to go to and that it wasn’t fair that he was grounded and blah blah blah.”

“Okay, and?”

“And… Well, there was this new season of this show coming out today and I just got distracted for a bit and then he kinda… Disappeared?” God. Jason closes his eyes in frustration. His family really knew how to be the most infuriating at the worst of times. He stays silent for a moment mentally cursing them before opening his eyes again.

“Told you you were going to laugh…” Steph repeats at his silence and Jason sighs, making you giggle quietly at the sibling interaction. Jason smiles at the sound.

“So what? Just go to the museum after him.” He finally answers.

“That’s the thing, I am at the museum and I just can’t find him. Damn that kid and his ninja training.” Steph hisses through the line. “Can you come and help me find him please?” He could hear her pouting.

“Why me?”

“You’re the only one that picked up.” And now he was sure that she was smiling innocently but full of mischief. Jason huffs. As soon as he saw Steph’s name on his screen he knew that he shouldn’t have picked up.

“No.” He says.

“Come on, pleaseeee. I’ll owe you one. If I don’t find Damian I will be the one that’s grounded next.” Honestly, who had put her on babysitting duty? Who had even grounded Damian to begin with? It was impossible to try and control that kid.

Damn it, Bruce.

“Bruce can’t ground you.”

“Oh yes, he can. I’m sure he’ll find a way. He’ll make me go supervise Condiment King or something! Please, Jason, please." Jason sighs. “Please, please, please, please. I’ll do all the research that you need for a week!” Mmhm. That’s interesting. That would certainly leave him with more time to see you.

“A month.” He counteroffers and sees you smiling at his bickering, making his insides feel giddy. Steph groans.

“A month? You know that’s too much.”

“Do you want my help or not?” Silence.

“Arrrg, okay, okay! Well, we’ll talk about it, now, can you please come here?” 

“With pleasure.” He says amused. Even though his family can be infuriating at times, he had to admit that they had their good moments and he enjoyed annoying them just as much as they did him.

“You’re so arrogant, oh my god. I pity whoever decides to put up with you.” Steph says and Jason can’t help but steal a glance in your direction.

“Just remember that you owe me a big one.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just come here. I’ll wait for you at the entrance.”

“Okay.” Before he hangs up, he hears Steph speak up again.

“Hey Jaybird.” Jason hums. “Thanks.” He rolls his eyes playfully.

“Bye.”

“And say hi to Y/N for me-!” He hangs up before you can hear Steph’s loud teasing voice. He knew that talking about you in front of his family wasn’t the best of ideas but he just couldn’t help it. You occupied his thoughts a lot more than what he was willing to admit. 

“Sorry.” He says as he approaches the counter once again and puts his phone in his pocket.

“It’s okay. Sibling drama then?” You ask playfully as you raise an eyebrow.

“You have no idea. It was Steph, she used to date one of my brothers. Tim.” You look at him confused.

“I thought you said she was your sister?”

“Yeah, I mean- it’s… It’s complicated. That was how we met her but she’s like a sister to me now.”

“I see.”

“Sorry, we’re quite a mess.” He chuckles awkwardly, running his hand through his hair and the white streak once again. The movement, like always, has you hypnotized. It should be illegal. Jason thinks that he should just stop talking, now he has weirded you out with his stupid and crazy family.

“Aren’t we all?” You say softly as you tilt your head in the cutest of ways. Honestly, the more that he told you about his family, the more you realized how peculiar they were. But they seemed really close to each another, which was what really mattered.

“Yeah… I guess so.” He trails on as he gets lost in your eyes again. You nod and he shakes out of his daze. “Well, I should get going. Duty calls.” He adds as he nods towards the door and taps his fingers against his side of the counter nervously.

“Okay. Hope everything goes well with whatever it is.”

“Yeah, I’ll tell you next time.” Something about the security of knowing that he will always come back, and that there will always be a next time with him, raises goosebumps on your skin.

“Yeah. Next time.” You both look at each other as he walks towards the door.

Something lingers in the air, as if both of you want to say something else but do not dare to do so. Do not dare to cross the invisible line in your strange friendship usually defined by the safety of the counter that almost always stayed between you two in your interactions.

Jason grabs the door handle and holds it open for a moment as you speak one last time.

“See you soon then?” It’s a stupid sentence, already remarking what you both have already said, but it’s as good of an excuse as any to make him stay just a few seconds longer.

“See you soon.” Jason nods smiling at you and then, the door closes behind him.

You’re reading at the counter when the bell on top of the door jingles. You look up, hoping to find green eyes but are met with a stressful boy looking around the shop. As if in his distressed state, he can’t find you behind the counter.

“Hi.” You say as you bookmark your page. “Can I help you with anything?”

“Oh. Hi. Yeah.” He says as he quickly approaches you. He shakes his head to move the hair out of his blue eyes and takes a piece of paper out of his pocket. His hunched posture and shaky mannerisms tells you that he hasn’t caught a break in a while. This poor boy needs a rest.

“I’ve been looking for this book everywhere and I can’t find it anywhere. It’s my boyfriend’s birthday tomorrow, he loves mysteries and conspiracies and I need to find it. My brother told me that this is the best bookshop in all of Gotham and that you can find anything here.” He rambles as he gives you the piece of paper. You take the paper and look at the boy as he slightly bounces on his feet looking around the shop.

You raise an eyebrow. A distracted boy that seems to always be running and a brother that recommends the bookshop? Sounds quite familiar.

“Tim?” You can’t help but guess, though you’re still a bit unsure. Jason had mentioned him a few times and how his younger brother always seemed to be doing a hundred things at once. At that his bouncing stops abruptly and finally looks at you for more than a few fleeting seconds, suspicious of how you know his name.

“Sorry, hi. I’m Y/N. Jason comes here often and has mentioned you a few times.” You say nervously. The information seems to take a little bit longer than usual to register due to his distressed state but then when he finally recognizes you, his alert posture relaxes.

“Oh, Y/N! Hi, yes. I’m Tim. Nice to meet you.” He says as he holds out his hand and you shake it. “Jason talks about you too.” He adds. You feel your cheeks go warm.

“Well, nice to meet you too. Are you okay? You seem a bit stressed.”

“Yeah, sorry. It’s just that I’ve been putting together this party for my boyfriend and the gift is being so hard to find it’s giving me headaches. Please tell me that you can help me.” 

“Of course.” You say. “But first, take a deep breath.” He looks at you as if he doesn’t know what you mean. “You need to rest and relax a bit if you want to make it to your boyfriend’s birthday tomorrow without dropping from exhaustion.” You nod encouraging him and then take a deep breath yourself so that he can imitate you. Thankfully, he does so after shaking his shoulders to release tension and then stays with his eyes closed, taking a moment.

“Better?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” He answers, opening his eyes.

You nod. “No problem. Let’s find that book.” You look at the piece of paper and type in the title and author of the book on the system. It’s a limited edition of a book about the old history of Gotham and thankfully, you have one copy in the storage room. “Got it. I’ll be right back.” Tim sighs in relief as you leave the counter.

When you come back, you bring the book and a cup of coffee from the break room with you. 

“This is so that you can get home to rest until tomorrow without dying on the way.” You say as you slide the coffee towards him.

“Oh thanks, but it’s not necessary.” You stare at him, having clearly seen how the idea of coffee almost had him glowing.

“Okay, okay.” He chuckles as he goes to take the coffee but you keep the cup in place.

“Promise that when you get home, you will rest. Do not take anymore coffee so that you can keep organizing things.” Tim looks at you, your firm tone and kind intentions making him clearly see why Jason is so smitten with you. He can also easily see himself trusting you and becoming friends with you.

“Promise.” He says honestly. You nod, letting go of the cup. "If you want more milk or sugar-" You can't even finish the sentence as he shakes his head, having already taken the cup into his hands and taken a sip.

“Mm, not necessary. This is great. Thank you.”

You smile. “You’re welcome. Do you want to wrap the book?”

“Yes, please.” He says.

“The Rainbow Fish? Again?” You say chuckling as Jason puts it on the counter for what probably was the third or fourth time. You really were starting to run out of options wondering why he always checked out so many kids’ books. But it just felt very intrusive to ask, he never said anything more about it either, probably not wanting to talk about it much.

“Yeah.” He says as you scan the book and pass his card on the system. 

“I loved this book when I was little.” A nostalgic look on your eyes as you gaze at the cover of the book, remembering the silver scales of the arrogant fish that he had to give away in order to be accepted instead of just being a nicer fish.

The message of the book in the end was good: not think of yourself as superior to others. But there was something about having to give up something that you were proud of and that was special about you in order to be accepted that always felt a little off putting to you when you grew up, especially when being kind could have just resolved everything.

“Though it sure as hell began my people pleasing problems.” You add giggling a bit without thinking. But when what you have said registers, you freeze, hands on the book and blank stare on them, not daring to look up at Jason. 

Where the fuck did that come from? 

You shut your eyes, praying to whatever was out there to let you die of embarrassment. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You had definitely freaked him out. That’s it. He would walk out of the bookshop and never come back. Why would you even say that? You weren’t thinking, that’s it. It had just slipped. You had become so used to being able to be yourself and talk about everything with Jason that it just felt so easy and comfortable to say whatever was on your mind. 

Finally, you decide to sentence your fate and just end with this terribly awkward conversation as soon as possible.

“Sorry.” You say. “I honestly don’t know where that came from.” Jason just chuckles though not in a mocking manner, but in an understanding way.

“Don’t worry, I get it.” He assures you. You look back down, missing Jason’s look of appreciation, loving your honesty and how flustered you were. He found it endearing. “Well, thanks.” He says as he goes to take the book on the counter.

Your whole body then tenses in alarm when you see the state of his hands, which until now, had been hidden in his pockets. Without thinking, once again, (seriously, what was wrong with you today?), you take his hands to take a closer look at them.

Jason lets out a small gasp as you do so and mentally smacks himself for letting you see his wounded knuckles, now him being the one that wanted to die of embarrassment. It was only so much that the gloves of his Red Hood gear could do to protect them.

“What happened?” You whisper, worry etched onto every single one of your features. 

Fuck.

How had he been so careless? He should have bandaged them, hidden them better or put make up on them. He just wasn’t used to having someone worry about him and his wounds like you were right now. At his silence, you try again:

“Jason.” Now he was the one avoiding your gaze. But you persist, finally making eye contact with him. “What happened? Are you okay?” He wills himself to get out of his stupor and even though deep down he doesn’t want to, out of the soft touch of your hands too, bringing his own back to his sides.

“It’s nothing. It’s just… I do boxing.” He says as he shrugs his shoulders. “It happens.” You raise an eyebrow, suspicious. It feels like something doesn’t fully add up.

You know that there are things that Jason isn’t telling you. He has made some strange comments before but you always let it go. You know that eventually, if he wants to, when he’s ready, he will tell you. God knows that you have your own things too.

But if there is something that you have learned about your growing friendship with Jason is that you both like to take things at your own pace. Trusting and becoming close with each other slowly but steadily.

Letting time do its work. Not forcing the flow of things. And you like it that way. Life is always everchanging so to have something so solid and safe like what you have with him, you want to treasure it and nurture it. Although all of that of course, doesn’t stop you from worrying about him and wanting to take care of him.

So, you just nod, accepting his explanation, but not without having a little bit of fun.

“I thought that in boxing you were supposed to wear gloves to avoid that very kind of injuries.” You say with a playful smile.

Shit.

Jason wants to facepalm himself. He really seemed to just have one brain cell whenever he was around you. At his lack of response you shake your head.

“Come, let me patch that up at least.”

“Oh, no, no. It’s fine, don’t worry.”

“Jason.” You throw him a glance.

“Y/N.” He maintains your stare. Finally, a small smile escapes your lips and you put an end to the staring contest, rounding the counter and taking his hands once again and guiding him to the break room. Allowing yourselves this moment since there aren't any other customers in the store right now. Jason lets you, knowing that in the end, he will never be able to deny you anything.

Once in the break room, you sit him down at a chair by a table and leave for a moment before you return with a first aid kid. You sit down in front of him and look at him softly.

“Can I?” You motion towards his hands. Jason swallows and only finds the courage to nod slowly.

The knuckles are far from being the worst that they have ever been and Jason always tries to take care of them but he had just arrived home from patrol the night before so exhausted that he had only managed to clean them before passing out on his bed. Right now, they’re mostly just reddened with a couple of points in which the skin is broken.

Jason then finds out that he was right. When you take his left hand and start treating the wound, cleaning it again and applying some antiseptic on it, he sees that you treat him with the same care and thoughtfulness that you did with those books all those weeks ago.

Almost as if he was something delicate, something precious. If not more.

The beat of his heart quickens and he wonders if in the silence of the room, you can hear it.

This is the very first time that Jason has been back here, the setting of your interactions always being the open part of the bookshop and this change of scenario makes it seem like something has shifted between you two. Like you weren’t just employee and customer with a friendly relationship anymore but like you have a real friendship and a deeper connection.

The whole time, as you treat his other hand too and then slowly bandage both of them, Jason looks at you. He’s glad that you’re only fixed on his hands because that way he can take all the time that he wants to admire you.

The concentrated look in your eyes, the way that your eyebrows furrow in concentration, how you put a strand of hair that has fallen out behind your ear, and the occasional and very tortuous moment in which you bite your lip in concentration, being extra careful in not hurting him.

And that's when the weight of how much he feels for you falls on him. He was already aware of it before but now is when he can really feel the weight of it all. How what he feels for you is not just an infatuation or a crush, but something deeper that runs beneath his skin, crawling into him, taking root. Settling and making a home there.

“Done.” You whisper. And as you retract your hands from his, Jason wishes that he never had to part from your touch.

You put all the things that you used back into the first aid kit and try not to think about the impulse that you had, but that you thankfully had managed to repress, of kissing his knuckles when you finished bandaging them.

“Be careful, okay?” You say. Jason nods, admiring your work but when you don’t take your eyes off of him he answers:

“Yeah. Promise.” You nod satisfied. Then Jason remembers another promise that he had made. “Tim wanted me to thank you by the way. Bernard loved the book.” He says.

“Oh, that’s right! It was no problem, it was really great to meet him. How was his boyfriend’s party? Bernard’s I guess?” You say excited.

“Tim said it went great. And that thanks to you he didn’t fall asleep during it and was actually able to enjoy it.” You giggle in response when suddenly, Jason’s phone beeps and he takes a quick look. Firefly alert downtown. He jumps out of his seat.

“Sorry, I have to go. Thank you, really.” And faster than a bullet, he’s gone.

You sigh, shaking yourself out from the intimate moment and when you return to the counter, you see that in his hurry, Jason forgot to take The Rainbow Fish with him. You take the book and put it under the counter, keeping it for him for next time.

You’re running some errands when you see two large men crowding a little girl. She can’t be older than six and she’s clutching onto a teddy bear for dear life. 

Anger and fear for the little girl rage inside you, it is broad daylight and there are quite a few people on the street, yet everyone seems to carry out their business ignoring the men trying to talk the girl into going with them. You knew how Gotham was but it seemed like the city always found a way to surprise you.

“Come on, your mommy told us to come get you.” You hear one of the men say to the girl as you quickly approach them.

“I don’t have a mom.” The girl manages to say, distrustful. And even though hearing that makes you sad, you admire the girl, you can tell that she’s smart.

“Can I help you?” You hiss as you put yourself between the two men and the girl, putting an arm out to keep her behind you. You see the two men exchange a look, clearly discussing if it is worth it to cause a scene in the middle of the street.

“No. We were just leaving.” One ends up saying, giving a clap to the back of the other, directing them away from you and the girl. As they turn to leave, they try to give one last look to the little girl but you move to block their line of sight.

When they turn the corner at the end of the street, you finally let out a sigh of relief, thankful that the confrontation didn’t escalate to anything more.

You knew you didn’t actually stand a great chance against them physically, and seeing how people were ignoring the situation before, you’re not sure that anyone would have helped you.

Adrenaline is still pumping through your veins as you turn and kneel on the floor to be eye level with the girl, who takes a step back in fear but you hold your hands up, trying to show her how you’re not a threat.

Now that you can see her clearly, you see how scared she really is. She is shaking slightly, still clutching her worn out teddy bear with tears in her eyes. Her clothes aren’t in the best state either and her shoes are two steps more from falling apart. Just by looking at her you can tell that she has to have spent nights on the street. 

Your heart breaks. It really was unfair how many unfortunate people and kids lived in such dire situations in Gotham. Of course you knew that there were people trying to change things and do better like the vigilantes or normal people like you, that even if it was in the smallest of ways, always tried to help somehow. You did so by either giving away the clothes that you didn’t use anymore or doing donations whenever you could. But sometimes it still seemed like the bad outweighed the good. 

“Hi, honey.” You say in a soft voice to try and calm the little girl. “I’m Y/N. What’s your name?”

She stops backing up against the wall of the building, sniffs and rubs her eyes, before looking at you, deciding whether or not to trust you.

“Lily.” You hear her squeak out. Her grip on the teddy bear relaxes and she starts playing with its ear, still not looking directly at you.

“Hi Lily, it’s very nice to meet you.” You say as you extend a hand to her, wanting to give her some sense of normalcy. She slowly takes it and you give her a soft shake. “You okay?” She nods. “You know Lily, you were very brave standing up to those men.”

“They were bad” She says. You nod. “Jay always says not to trust strangers and much less big scary men.”

“He’s very right. Is he your brother?” Maybe you can help her get back to her family. If you managed to do so, it would be much better than bringing her to the police and then, sadly, most likely than not, forgotten in the foster care system.

“No. A friend. A very good friend.”

“Okay, good. That’s very important.” You look around, trying to see if somebody is looking for her. “Do you live nearby?”

“I think so.” She says shyly, you give her an encouraging look to see if she can give you any more information. “I was chasing a cat but I think that I took a wrong turn.”

“Okay. How about I go with you and try to find your way back?” You say as you stand back up. You’re happy to see that Lily doesn’t look scared anymore. Instead, she looks almost… Excited?

“Yes, please! I don’t want to miss it!” She says as she grabs your hand and starts walking in the direction that you suppose she came.

“Miss what?” You ask, but she’s already telling you everything about her teddy bear, who seems to be Batbear at night, fighting crime and kicking butt like the heroes in Gotham.

Turns out that Lily’s home was thankfully a lot closer than what you had expected. After asking her if she remembered a couple of streets and stores, she was able to find the right way back.

You finally reach an open space between two buildings that seems to work as a playground, with a rusty basket to play basketball on one side and several boxes and crates littering the corners. Several kids run around playing and chasing each other, most of them in the same condition as Lily.

A group of them surround a bench and you hear him before you see him.

“What do you mean Lily’s not here? Where is she?” He’s running a hand stressfully through his hair, looking around worriedly.

“Jason?” You ask transfixed.

Jason locks eyes with you and freezes, just as surprised to see you as you are to see him.

“Y/N.” He says breathlessly.

“Jay!” Lily’s excited voice filters through the air. You feel her dropping your hand and Jason’s eyes turn to her, relief washing over them. As she runs towards Jason, she extends her arms and he scoops her up and settles her on his waist effortlessly, Lily hugging his neck.

“Lily! Oh my god, where were you? We were all so worried. You’re always here when I arrive.” He says to her.

“I know, I'm sorry! Some bad men tried to take me. But don’t worry, Y/N helped me! She’s a badass!” Jason’s eyes widen at the new information and you see something in them that you had never seen before, a kind of anger that promises danger.

But as soon as that look comes, it disappears, and it makes you wonder if it was ever really there in the first place. He then looks at you, thankful but with a small tint of worry. You just give him a reassuring nod, telling him that everything is okay.

“Why don’t you go with the rest for a bit? I’ll be right there.” He says as he turns to Lily once more.

“Okay!” He settles her back down and she runs off to the other kids.

Jason approaches you quickly in a few strides, it feels like he wants to touch you, take your hands to make sure that you’re okay but he stops himself.

“You okay? What happened?”

“Yeah. I’m okay, don’t worry.” You tell him what happened and you can see how the anger returns to him in the way that he clenches his fists. “But we’re fine and they left so that’s all that matters.” You conclude.

“Where was it?” He asks firmly. You tell him the street where it all happened and Jason seems deep in thought for a moment, like searching for something in his mind. When he finally finds it, he nods resolutely as if he just made a mental note to do something later.

The determination in his eyes sends a chill running down your spine.

“Thank you for helping her.” He says then. “But be careful please, I don’t want you to be in danger.” The very thought makes him shiver, he doesn’t even want to entertain the possibility.

“I know. I am. I just couldn’t stand by.” You respond and he nods, knowing that that was how you were, always looking out for others.

“Anyway, thanks again.” He adds and you nod before looking around you once more.

It then dawns on you that this is the very first time that you are seeing Jason outside of the bookshop and it just feels so strange. When he first entered the shop, it seemed like he stood out like a sore thumb, with his tall frame, rough appearance and black leather jacket against the cozy backdrop of the shop. But now, after so much time, you couldn’t imagine him anywhere else. Now it was like he didn’t fit into any other atmosphere other than at the bookshop.

“Well, and what are you doing here?” You ask curiously.

“Oh, I…”

“So you’re Y/N?” Interrupts a young teen with a knowing smile, followed by a group of other kids, including Lily, clearly having told them her latest adventure. You nod.

“Are you his girlfriend?” Asks another boy now, looking up at you. You let out a small laugh at the way Jason’s eyes widen almost comically at the kid’s boldness.

“No.” You respond, and for a second, you can’t help but wonder what it would be like to answer otherwise.

“We’re friends.” Jason says.

“Very good friends.” You can’t help but add and when you steal a nervous glance at Jason, you find him nodding, agreeing with you. Because saying just ‘friends’ feels too simple to describe your relationship with Jason. And what you said still doesn't cover it.

“Really?” The teen boy from earlier asks again with a raised eyebrow. “Because he-” Jason grabs him and puts a hand over his mouth before he can keep talking, smiling innocently at you. You look at the chaotic situation amused.

“Are you staying for the reading?” Lily asks.

“The reading?” You ask confused.

“Yeah! Jason always reads to us and acts out the stories!” Another girl says. And then it clicks.

Jason buys and checks out so many children’s books for them. For these kids. Street kids. Like him. Not only that but he also reads the stories for them. Regularly. You feel like melting into a puddle.

You turn to Jason, an amazed look on your face. As if this man could be any more wonderful. He blushes and looks away in embarrassment. A small smile makes its way across your lips.

“Really? I didn’t know that.” You say, turning to the kids once more.

“Yeah! He’s great at it.” Chirps the same girl.

“Are you staying then?” Lily insists.

You immediately turn to Jason. You would love to but there is a reason for why Jason hasn’t told you about this. It feels like this is something very important to him and that he holds very dear so you don’t want to intrude on that. But Jason is already looking at you, scared yet hopeful, as if he does want you to stay but is afraid that you may want to leave now.

“Well, I would love to. If I’m not a burden of course.”

“Never.” Jason says without missing a beat.

You don’t think that you have ever smiled more brightly.

You end up having one of the best afternoons that you have ever had in a while. Rival only to the other ones in which Jason visits you in the bookstore. You stay and listen as Jason reads them the books that had been sitting on the bench and that you recognize from the bookstore out loud, using different voices, doing exaggerating gestures, and acting out scenes.

You watch as the kids laugh and look at him mesmerized. If you had been able to look into a mirror, you would have found that you had the very same look of admiration as them, maybe even a tiny little bit lovestruck. You can tell that they love him, look up to him and consider him a role model. You can’t help but think that they made an excellent choice.

The crowd is mostly made of small kids, the older ones, in their teenage years, although a few of them listen, most make as if the activity doesn’t interest them, but you can see how they linger around the group while they play basketball or pass by. 

You see how what Jason is doing with these kids is a light for them. A moment of escapism, fun and happiness from their lives and problems in the worst neighborhoods of Gotham. Kids forced to grow up earlier to survive. Holding onto whatever source of innocence that they can.

Eventually, they all rope you into reading too and you end up sharing the spotlight with Jason. There are laughs, questions from the kids about yourself, funny comments and the snickering whispers from the older kids at the back about the two of you, having obviously heard about you before.

Jason prays that you can’t see them when they start teasing him and making kissy faces to which he just rolls his eyes. He also prays that you can’t see how he looks at you as you enjoy yourself and laugh at what the kids say. The utter adoration and longing that lay in his eyes.

It isn’t until almost a couple of hours later, when the sun has already disappeared beyond the horizon and the orange hue of the sky has turned purple, that the reading does come to an end.

The kids say their goodbyes, not before inviting you to reading time again and wondering when you will come back. A lot of them already give you a hug as they go, and you see them leave back towards their homes. Most of them go to the adjacent buildings but there are also a few, mostly the older kids, or at least accompanied by them, that go towards the street.

Lily thanks you for your help and even gives you a kiss on the cheek that makes you want to melt and give her a tight hug before she leaves towards the closest building, a girl a few years older than her guiding her by the hand.

And then, after all the chaos and laughs, with the night starting to settle in, it’s just you and Jason once again.

You sit back down on the bench next to him and you both stay there for a moment, enjoying the quiet and the silence of the chill Gotham air.

When you turn to Jason, his green gaze is already on you.

“Thank you for staying. The kids loved having you here.” He whispers as to not disturb the peace that has settled over you both. “I hope that it wasn’t too much.”

“What? No, it was lovely. Really, I had a great time. I’m sorry if I intruded.”

“No, not at all.”

“Now I know why you always check out so many kids’ books. Good to know that you’re not a psychopath with kids in cages or something.” You joke and Jason huffs out a laugh.

“Yeah, maybe I should have explained that earlier. It would have been too strange to explain at the beginning but then we became friends and it dragged on and it felt too weird to explain now. I don’t know.” He just didn’t know what you would have thought of him.

“No, no.” You shake your head. “I didn’t mean it like that. This was clearly something very private to you. It’s perfectly understandable not wanting to share it with anybody.”

“You’re not anybody.”

You’re sure your heart stops beating for a moment.

The intensity of his gaze makes you look down at your hands. You can’t remember if anyone has ever looked at you like that.

It’s scary.

In a good way, but still very scary.

“Well, anyway, thank you for letting me be a part of it.” You end up saying and he nods.

Silence settles over you two once again. Neither of you wanting the day to end.

“You hungry? I know a great spot.” He speaks up.

Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

“I’m starving.”

You love the place as soon as you see it. It’s a small, yet very cozy and lovely diner. Through the outside windows you can see that the color pattern is mostly blue and white with bright pink neon letters announcing that it’s open.

Jason holds the door open for you and the warmness inside the place drastically contrasts with the cold from outside. The delightful smells from the kitchen make your stomach ache with hunger.

“Hi, sweetie! We’ll be right with you!” The old woman at the bar with a brightly tinted red streak in her hair says excitedly.

“Sit wherever you like!” A voice yells next from the kitchen. From the open window that looks into it from the dining area you can see another old woman with a bun.

“Thank you, ladies.” Jason greets.

Your mouth hangs open.

Jason leads you to a booth that stares out into the street. His usual spot, you suppose. As you sit in the comfortable booth and you two take off your coats, you close your mouth and look at Jason with a raised eyebrow. He looks back at you feigning innocence, though you know well that he knows why you’re so surprised.

“What?” He says with a teasing smirk that makes you want to kiss it away.

“You little liar.”

“Hey.” He responds amused. “What did I do now?”

“Looks like I’m not the only one with practically adoptive grandparents that just so happen to run a business.” You say with your arms crossed.

And when Jason laughs, you might as well be addicted to the sound with how much you love it everytime you hear it. 

“I knew you were going to say that.” He says and you scoff playfully. “In my defense, I will say that I wasn’t fully ‘officially’ adopted until after we had that conversation. I hadn’t come here enough times for that yet.”

“Mmhm, sure.” You say suspicious as you take the menu from the side of the table and take a quick look over it. “And you wanted to take Rose and Jimmy away from me.” You add, muttering under your breath.

“Excuse me?” Mock outrageousness in his tone.

“What you hear.” You’re trying too hard to hide your smile.

“You know that was never my intention.” He answers and you just hum, pretending to read the menu. “Okay, as an act of peace, you can have Millie and Ruby too.”

“Mhm.” You pretend to think it over.

“I’m sure they’ll love you in no time anyway.” The lightness with which he says that, as if anyone who met you couldn’t help but love you, makes you drop the menu onto the table and look back at him.

“Deal then.” You finally say and you both let out a small laugh.

After that, the woman with the red streak approaches your table and greets you both.

“Good evening kids, how are you today?”

“Good, Ruby, and you?” Jason answers.

“You know, same old, same old.” She says, waving her hand. Then she turns fully to you. “And who might this lovely lady be?” She asks with a knowing smile and an arched eyebrow, almost as if she already knows the answer and knows a secret that you’re not privy to.

“I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

“The Y/N?” Ruby says while throwing Jason a look. He just looks away in embarrassment and the neon sign of the window really makes you wonder if the red tint on his cheeks are a reflection of it or not. “Oh, it’s so lovely to meet you dear! We've heard so much about you! We’ve been telling Jason to bring you non-stop. Oh gosh, I gotta tell Millie. Millie! Honey, come here!” She screams towards the kitchen.

Your lips curve into an amused smile, but you also feel heat rush to your face, not really knowing what to do with all the attention and the fact that Jason has been talking about you, what seems to be quite a lot, to other people. Not only his brother, but also the kids and these women.

Millie appears and when she learns who you are, she greets you just as enthusiastically as Ruby has.

“Let me tell you sweetheart, this boy here talks about you-” Millie starts but then she clears her throat as Jason throws her a warning glance. “I mean, about your bookshop all the time.”

“Well, you can drop by anytime.” You offer.

“We will.” Millie assures you. It seems as though both Millie and Ruby want to stay and ask you millions of questions but they see how Jason is begging them with his eyes to leave you two alone, and after taking your orders, they leave with a smile.

“They seem really great.” You say. Their loud nature sign of a joyous life. And even though they seem more energetic, vivacious and chaotic than the calm and quiet way in which Rose and Jimmy carry themselves, you know that they would get along very well. Especially with how all of them seemed to be thoroughly entertained by the interactions that you and Jason have.

“Yeah, they are.” Jason confirms. “But sorry about that, they can come off as a bit overwhelming sometimes.”

“It’s okay. It’s nice to be greeted so welcomely.”

As the night goes on, you find that it is just as easy to talk to Jason outside the bookshop as it is over the counter. It doesn’t surprise you but the underlying fear that your connection only works surrounded by bookshelves finally leaves you.

As you both eat the delicious food that Millie prepared, Jason tells you more about the kids per your request. How he tries to read to them at least once a week, how he brings them food whenever he can and how he has even taught a few of them to read. You also immediately offer up the bookstore to hold the readings but he shakes his head and smiles sadly.

“Thank you, really. That’s very kind of you. But it’s not very viable since the neighborhoods are not very close. Most of the kids have people relying on them and can only make it to the readings from time to time. The playground is also the more common ground, the older kids can’t go very far due to the responsibilities and it’s not safe for the smaller ones to go on their own.”

You nod, but your heart clenches at how these kids can’t enjoy a normal childhood.

“I understand.” You stop and think for a second if you should say what you want to say next, worried about overstepping. 

You decide to go for it anyway.

“I’d like to come back for the readings, if that’s okay?” Your voice comes out lower and more unsure than what you had first intended, your hands playing nervously on your lap.

Jason looks at you, as if he can hardly believe you’re real.

“Of course you can. I’m sure they’d love to have you back.” I’d love to have you back. But Jason doesn’t want to scare you or make the whole situation come off too strong. “But are you sure? I don’t want you to feel pressured, if their insistence-” 

“No, no! Really, I had a great time and I would love to be able to see the kids again. Help in any way I can.”

“Okay, then.” He says with a smile pulling at his lips.

The evening stretches on and you two stay at the dinner until closing time. There is a moment that will haunt you for days, as you told him a story, he leaned his arms on the table, giving you his undivided attention, and the way in which his bicep flexed under his sleeve… Nothing has ever been so distracting. Your eyes had been instantly drawn over to it. You really, really hoped that he didn’t notice. You would die of embarrassment otherwise.

You even finally, finally, give each others’ numbers to match schedules for the readings (and to just chat in general of course), since you won’t be able to make it to all of them due to the bookstore hours and so that Jason can let you know if he can’t attend one. You can’t believe you didn’t even have it before with how often you two already talked at the bookshop.

It feels like another shift in your relationship. A stepping stone.

Another brick on the long yet sturdy building road.

Please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!

>Part II

[enviedear]

･*:｡☃︎⁺₊❅. enviedear's winter wonderland

welcome to the winter wonderland! a time for candor and comfort—and fics that i hope you'll all enjoy! i just want to celebrate all of you that make this blog an absolute joy—by hyperfixating on something new every few months i’ve amassed so many lovelies from so many fandoms. i thought it was high time i did a little celebration with most of the characters i write for. think of it as my little gift to you—especially to the long term followers (crying w a smile)

without further ado...let's take a stroll through the winter wonderland ❆₊⋆𐂂 𖠰･⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

starts on december 4th until december 25th

week one — jason todd

baby—it's cold outside

after a mission goes horribly wrong, you get snowed in at a safehouse (rickety old cabin) with jason. you're both blaming each other for the failed mission, but the discovery that there's no firewood or heating has the two of you begrudgingly sharing body heat and blankets. OUT NOW !

christmas dreaming

when jason todd overhears your complaint about the town’s lackluster christmas trees, he takes it as a challenge. every day, he stops by your store with an update—always casual, always shrugging off your insistence that it’s unnecessary. but beneath the easy smiles and weather-worn jacket, jason is on a quiet mission.

for weeks, he’s combed through forests and farms, chasing the impossible—your perfect tree. and while he won��t admit it, this isn’t just about holiday spirit. it’s purely about you—and the way your smile might make the coldest december day feel warm. OUT NOW !

week two — dick grayson

love to keep me warm

dick grayson is your best friend, and has been since he moved to blüdhaven. you're more than familiar with taking trips to gotham with him, especially during the holidays! you've yet to miss one of bruce wayne's christmas galas—but this year is different. this year, you're hopelessly trying to hide the recent crush you've developed on your best friend. OUT NOW !

santa baby

to you, dick grayson might as well be santa claus. by day, he’s blüdhaven’s resident holiday hero, delivering toys to kids, lending a hand at soup kitchens, and visiting anyone spending the season alone. by night? well, nightwing doesn’t exactly take time off. you don’t mind him spreading christmas cheer—it’s one of the million reasons you fell for him—but when the twinkling lights and warm cocoa leave you longing for his touch, your thoughts start drifting toward a wish list of your own. all you want this year is him.

week three — jacaerys velaryon

walking in a winter wonderland

recently married and entrusted with the titles of lord and lady of dragonstone, jacaerys and you are adamant upon making the gloomy castle a respite for the winter. your plans falter, however, when the chill becomes too much for you. luckily, your husband is the blood of the dragon—and your own personal fireplace.

all i want for christmas—is you

the office is buzzing with holiday chaos, but you’ve got your own chaos. twelve days before christmas, a mysterious gift appears on your desk, and each morning brings another. thoughtful, perfect little things that make your heart race more than they should. it doesn’t take long for you to piece it together—jacaerys velaryon—isn’t as coy as he assumes. by christmas, you decide it’s time to return the favor. not with gifts, just with the words he’s been waiting to hear.

week four — the marauders

since we've no place to go—let it snow

at alice fortescue’s holiday party, you find james potter, your ex, sitting quietly by the fire. it’s been three years since you last saw him, but one heartfelt conversation—or atrocious snowstorm—just might be enough to glue the two of you back together.

a wonderful christmas time

single and surrounded by happy couples at your holiday trip is enough to send you spiraling. you feel like you're falling behind, and you're desperate enough to fall into an obvious tourist trap. it's said (the receptionist told you) that tying a red ribbon around a branch of the old oak during a snowfall will assure you a christmas miracle. only you don't find a miracle—just sirius black.

🗣️— + mystery bonus fics for the new year !!

can you guess for who?? hehe

🖇️ tags — if you want to be added to the taglist for this celebration, just comment below

[callsign-rogueone]

keep her safe - g.t.

Garrick Tavis x Marked!Pacifist!Reader  This one is for my fellow tired, chronic pain girls who just want their suffering to serve some purpose, and those who trust everyone they meet, even if they shouldn’t. wc: 4.7k -- the longest work I've ever put on this blog! second chapter is here! 🏷: spoilers for both Fourth Wing books (I’m currently 500 pages into Iron Flame, and y’all... 😭) people refer to you with she/her pronouns, canon-typical violence and torture, mentions of canon character death / death of a family member, bad coping mechanisms, Dain and his memory reading (I tried to make him more tolerable), one (1) reference to sex, I gave you a last name (Avan) and Garrick calls you angel as a pet name, because I refuse to use y/n. Your dragon's name is Tab.

Your stomach drops as your name is called for a challenge. “No weapons today.” Emeterrio adds. “I want you to work on your hand-to-hand.”

The pair of you unsheath nearly a dozen knives apiece, you handing yours to Bodhi. Disarmed, you extend a hand to the boy, as is the Tyrrish tradition before a friendly spar, but he doesn’t take it. No unmarked ones ever have.

He charges first, tangles a hand in your hair and pulls, jerking your head back, and the crowd of freshmen gasp, but you plant your feet and move with him, twisting your spine with practiced ease.

That gives you enough distance to kick a leg out at his right knee, hitting him squarely in the back of it. He releases you. Another swift kick to his legs has them sweeping out from under him. You dig a thumb into his collarbone, finding just the right spot, and he crumples, giving you a split second to wrap your arm around his throat.

He claws at your elbow with blunt nails, wasting breath as he attempts to rise to his feet, but you keep him pinned with your body weight, bearing down as hard as you can. He bucks, and your left boot skids against the mat. 

You bend your knee to brace yourself in a lunge. Your arm is starting to falter, he can feel the muscle straining around his jaw, but he’s tiring too — running out of air. If neither of you moves, he’s going to die.

“Enough,” Emeterrio commands.

You release him, extending a hand to pull him up, but he smacks it away and dives straight at you, clearly not done. “I’m not letting you off that easily, traitor.” 

You squeak in surprise, your back hitting the mat with a thud, and he lands another blow to your jaw. You struggle to take control back, gasping for breath from how hard you’d hit the floor.

He gathers your wrists into one hand easily, the other closing around your throat.

“You are going to die on this mat if you don’t do something, now. Use the failsafe.” 

There’s one dagger you hadn’t removed, that you’d won from Garrick in combat your first year, that he’d let you win, really, and promptly ordered that you never remove it from your reach, for situations like this.

He doesn’t have your legs pinned, so you kick out, catching him in the thigh, and his grip falters. You manage to wiggle one arm free to pull the blade from the inside of your jacket, rolling onto your side and holding the point millimeters away from his chest. “Yield,” you order, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“You won’t kill me,” He snarls. “Everyone knows you’re all bark and no bite. That’s why you keep him around.”

You drag it down, just enough to tear his shirt. “Yield, or you’ll meet Malek today and you can explain to him what a cheating coward you are.” The words surprise you, but you fight to maintain the hardened look on your face, trying to convince him you’re serious. 

“Fine,” he spits, “I yield.”

Heart still pounding, you move to lean against the wall with the other marked ones, Bodhi handing you back your arsenal blade by blade. 

“She cheated!” Jason protests as soon as he’s standing again.

“She did what was necessary after you defied a direct order from a superior officer,” Emeterrio says narrowly.

Jason glowers, but returns to his friends without further argument. The rest of the pack takes note of their faces; they’re likely as conniving as him, and as liable to try to kill you, too.

“I’m gonna end that motherfucker,” Garrick mutters, checking you over for injuries as subtly as he can. He hands you a scrap of cloth and you wipe the blood from your nose, wincing, but grateful it isn’t broken.

“He’s been at this for months. One of these days, he’s going to kill you.” Bodhi says quietly, his gaze not moving from the next sparring pair.

“Why not kill him first?” Imogen asks. “You had a knife to his gut, you should have used it.”

“No.” You say firmly. “To kill anyone unmarked, especially an officer’s son, would confirm what everyone else in this army believes about Tyrs; that we are bloodthirsty animals.”

“Let them believe that,” she scoffs. “They’ll never change their mind.”

You sigh. Maybe she’s right.

You don’t see your friends for the next ten hours, when you’re finally excused for dinner.

“Where the hell have you been?” Bodhi asks. 

“Medical wing,” you rasp, sliding into a seat at the end of the bench. “Mending infantry with Carr.” 

“You should eat,” Liam says softly, pushing a plate toward you, but you shake your head no, every muscle in your body screaming. 

You look like your head is going to hit the table, your neck no longer able to hold it up. Bodhi pulls you into his side and you slump against him, boneless. “Her signet isn’t fully developed yet,” you hear him explain to Violet and Liam. “She’ll be okay. She just needs to rest.”

When you wake, it’s dark out, the room nearly pitch black, but you can tell it’s not yours — the furniture is arranged differently.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, gentle one,” Tab greets as soon as you’re cognizant. He can only be this dry about it because he knew you’d pull through. “If he makes you do that again, I’ll eat him.”

You laugh, wincing at the pain in your ribs. Your entire body aches. There’s no way you got up the three flights of stairs here yourself — you didn’t even have it in you to chew food at dinner.

There’s a comforting scent to the room — all the soap and detergent everyone uses is standard issue, but something about the sheets smells like Garrick. Your theory is confirmed when he walks through the door, the hallway light illuminating the hilts of the two swords strapped to his back. “If you want me in your bed, Gare, you just need to ask,” you say in greeting.

He laughs dryly, waving a hand to activate a small mage light. “The damage can’t be too bad if you’re already cracking jokes.”

“I missed physics, didn’t I? Did you carry me up here?”

“Of course that’s what you’re worried about. You can copy Violet’s notes, they’re way better than mine.” He strips some of the weapons off, shedding his flight jacket along with them. It’s something you’ve seen many times before, but it never fails to make your heart flutter.

He sits on the edge of the bed, a gentle hand moving up to lay against your cheek. “And I did carry you. I’d do anything for you, angel. It scares me sometimes.”

He brushes a piece of hair from your face. You’d been freezing cold when you fell asleep, so he’d draped you with every blanket he owned before leaving, and it seems to have worked — your skin is pleasantly warm against his hand.

“Anything, hm?” You ask, a lazy smile on your face. 

His eyes sparkle at the mischief in your tone, but he’s responsible enough to think before he acts. “Not until you’ve recovered,” he says sternly. 

You yawn. “D’you have section leader stuff to do tonight?”

“That’s what executive officers are for.”

You crack an eye to look at him in disapproval. “Gare, you can’t skip duty. Melgren will have your head.”

He sighs. “Fine. Don’t go anywhere.”

“I won’t. Your bed is more comfortable than mine anyway.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, tugging the jacket back on and strapping in the swords.

/////////

Someone is standing in front of your yoga mat. Dain. “No bodyguard today?” He asks.

You’re silent, your gaze flickering between him and the longsword by your side, the one Garrick had insisted you take with you everywhere when he wasn’t there to protect you.

“You may find this hard to believe, but I don’t want to kill you.” He says with a sigh. “I just need to-”

“Quit talking and join me, or leave.” You interrupt, settling into a deeper stretch, eyes closing as you gesture to the floor next to you with an open hand. By the grace of Amari, Carr had given you enough time off to recover, but he’ll likely be making you work another shift in the infirmary today. This will be your only pocket of calm for the next twelve hours. You aren’t going to skip it for Dain, of all people.

He chooses the first option, surprising you as he drags a mat over beside yours, attempting to copy your movements. “Do you really do this every day?” He asks, uncomfortable.

“Even a soldier must take time to be at peace. Clear your mind. Whatever you’re thinking about is so loud it’s distracting.”

He startles, his foot slipping on the mat.

“No, my signet is not mind-reading.” You say, eyes still closed, though there’s an amused look on your face. “Relax. You’re killing the air in here with that nervous energy.”

For the next five minutes, you both stretch in total silence. “Now,” you decide, bringing your arms back to your body, focusing on your breathing, “what was so important that you needed to find me here?”

He cuts straight to it. “Varrish wants me to… practice on you. He thinks you’re hiding something, that all of you are.” He doesn’t need to specify who he means by you. 

You don’t seem to react to the information, instead looking at him with curiosity. “How do you feel about your signet?” 

He blinks. Nobody’s ever asked him that before. “I don’t know.” He says quietly. You shift again, but he doesn’t follow you, folding his legs underneath him instead. Your silence presses him to speak, needing to fill the air. “I used to think it was cool, but now… now I’m wondering if it’s really a gift at all.”

“What do you see when you view a memory like that? Are you living it through their eyes, or from above, watching it unfold? How far back can you see?”

“Through their eyes.” He answers, throat dry. Why is he telling you this? “A day, maybe two. It depends. Varrish wants me to learn to push it farther.”

You weigh the consequences. If he’s being honest, he won’t see anything confidential — at worst, a gathering of more than three marked ones to exercise, but is he really petty enough to tell Varrish about that, when he’s giving you a warning in the first place?

“Okay.” You say, opening your eyes. Better it be you than one of the kids who can’t shield their memories yet, or Garrick or Bodhi, who would rip him limb from limb if he tried to touch them.

“What?”

“I’m going to go about my day now as if this conversation never happened,” you say, looking him in the eye, unflinching, “and you’re going to do what you have to do to satisfy Varrish’s demands — with me and only me. Are we clear?”

“Yes,” he stammers, shocked that you’re letting him do this.

“Good.” You pick up the longsword, strapping it back in along your spine. “Dain?” You call over your shoulder. “I won’t make it easy for you.” You say, and he knows that’s a promise.

“That was an incredibly stupid decision, gentle one. A noble decision, but stupid nonetheless.” Tab speaks into your mind on the way back up to your room. “You cannot always assume everyone has good intentions. It would have been your downfall by now, if not for your mate’s protection.”

“Stop calling Garrick my mate. That’s weird.” You deflect, not wanting to unpack his earlier words.

“Forgive me. Dragons do not have a word for a relationship as trivial as a boyfriend.”

You build up a mental wall like Xaden had taught you, ending the argument. 

When Varrish calls you into his office that afternoon, you already know what it’s for. “Take a seat,” he says with a smile that you know isn’t meant to be friendly.

He sees the way your eyes immediately narrow at the sight of Dain — everyone knows how the quadrant’s golden boy feels about marked ones, and how you feel about him. You’re going to be doing some very good acting today.

The door closes and locks behind you, and your stomach flips as you feel the sound shield form and press up against the office walls. There’s no escape, and no screaming for help, but you know what you’ve walked into. You signed up for it this morning.

“To what do I owe this meeting, Major?” You ask respectfully, lowering yourself into the chair beside Dain.

“Professor Carr has made me aware that both of your signets have been slow to develop. We’re going to spend your leisure time today practicing, in hopes that you will finally improve.” A very convincing lie, you’ll admit. If Dain hadn’t come to you this morning, you might have believed it. “No objections?” He asks, waiting for you to protest.

“No, sir.” You say calmly, Dain answering the same a beat behind you.

“Good. Aetos, you first.”

It takes every ounce of self control not to squirm as Dain stands, stepping toward you. You lift your chin, closing your eyes -- a gesture of consent small enough to fly under the Vice Commandant’s radar.

You may be letting him try, but you’d told him this wouldn’t be easy. You block him out completely, raising your mental shield and barring the gates.

“What do you see?” Varrish asks.

Dain doesn’t answer. He does not push, does not attempt to kick the door down or dig below the foundation. He stands outside, waiting for you to give him something. 

The crack of his nose breaking has your eyes flying open, the coppery scent of blood starting to fill the room immediately as he staggers back into his chair.

“Your turn, Avan."

You stand, laying a gentle hand on Dain’s jaw to tilt it up, stopping the blood from pouring down his shirt. 

He looks up at you, stunned, but lets you touch the broken cartilage with your fingertips, and moments later it feels like nothing ever happened. It’s mind-bending.

“Very good. Aetos, try again. What was she doing this morning?”

Dain stands, angling his body between yours and Varrish’s so that the Major can’t see the apology he mouths before his hands touch your forehead. Whether he can see his conversation with you in the gym is unclear. He lies through his teeth either way. “She was alone,” he answers, “on a run to the flight field and back.” 

“And then?”

He shifts uncomfortably, his eyes not leaving yours. “A shower, breakfast. Eggs. An apple. Toast. She sat with Tavis and two other marked ones.” He leaves out Violet from the group, not wanting to implicate her. Interesting. 

That much is true, but it’s part of your everyday routine — he could have easily gleaned that from watching you across the mess hall. Is he still locked out?

Varrish stands, rounding the corner of his desk. “Let’s make this a little harder, shall we?”

Dain screams as a dagger pierces his arm, thrashing in his chair. Varrish twists the blade as he pulls it out, letting Dain’s blood drip to the floor. This is why he needed the sound shield.

Your eyes widen, and the adrenaline has you leaping to your feet to fix it. You press a hand into the wound, apologizing when he winces. It takes you longer than it should for the muscle to repair itself.

“You care more about him than I thought.” Varrish muses.

You turn to him, anger flickering in your chest. “It is my moral obligation to help the wounded.”

He tuts. “You would have made an excellent healer, had your parents not committed high treason. Aetos, again. Find something older.”

Dain trembles as he stands, and you take pity on him. You push an older memory forward, a happy one, remembering it as vividly as you can.

You watch together as you sprint through the forest, stopping dead in your tracks as you see two cadets fighting. The one losing is a smaller girl in your class whose name Dain can’t remember, a tall, muscled boy towering over her, sword ready to strike.

You spring forward, catching him by surprise and effectively disarming him, and he chooses to abandon the sword and run rather than fight the both of you. You extend a hand to pull the girl to her feet and her eyes widen further, staring up not at you, but behind you.

You feel a burst of heat against your back — not hot enough to be fire. Steam. You bow your head in deference, turning slowly to give the girl time to run… And the dragon bows back. What the fuck?

“You did not kill the boy.” It says directly into your mind.

“I did not.” You answer aloud, not sure if humans can do that.

“Have you ever killed before, gentle one?”

“I haven’t.” Should you be embarrassed? Dragons are violent, surely they would see this as a sign of weakness.

“Not all of us.”

“Holy shit, you can read my mind.”

The girl laughs in disbelief, and you realize you’ve just bonded a dragon.

“In time you’ll learn to control that. But your friend needs to get moving, and so do we.”

You wish her luck before scaling the leg of your dragon and taking a seat.

“Hold on.”

You shriek in happiness like a child as he jumps up, and seconds later you’re thousands of feet in the air, looking down at Basgiath and the valley below. When you return to the flight field, you find Garrick there with a giant brown Scorpiontail, bloodied but happy as he stands next to Xaden and the biggest blue daggertail you’ve ever seen. You pull them both into a hug, just grateful they’re alive.

“Careful, angel,” Garrick warns, grinning into your hair, “we just might make it out of here.”

You cut Dain off there, yanking back the memory before slamming your shields back up. He can have that moment, but only that moment.

“Threshing,” Dain says. Thank the gods. “She helped another cadet who was being attacked. That’s why Tab chose her, for her kindness.”

You both look at Varrish for further instruction. Your shields have been weakening with every injury you repair, but so have Dain’s abilities. You don’t know how many more rounds either of you can take. 

“I think that’s enough for today,” He says, sounding pleased. “I’ll see you again on Wednesday morning, to check your progress. You’re dismissed.”

The sound shield dissipates, the door unlocking. The only evidence is Dain’s blood, smeared across his face and arms, drying on the floor and under your nails. You commit the sight to memory, tucking it into the same folder that holds the death of your parents, and slam the drawer shut.

It takes you five minutes to scrub the blood out of the cracks in your palms and from under your nails. Your fingertips are wrinkled when you step into the gym.

“Why did Tab tell Chradh that you were called into Varrish’s office with Aetos?” Garrick asks, remarkably calm as he toys with one of his smaller daggers.

“Because he’s a meddling mother hen.” You answer, avoiding the question.

“Watch it.”  Tab warns. “Tell him the truth, or we will.”

You know he’s not bluffing. “He wanted us to practice our signets on each other.”

“Dain practiced his signet, his memory-reading signet, on you?” He asks, already simmering with anger.

“This morning, he came to me to warn me about Varrish’s plan, and I told him it was okay. I used my shields, and I only showed him what I wanted to. We’re supposed to do it again Wednesday.”

Your eyes communicate something else you won’t say aloud, not in front of everyone, and not when you know Dain might be able to see this conversation in two days. I did this to take the heat off of the others. You know I was the safest choice.

Garrick sighs. “I can’t tell you what to do, but I’d like to state for the record that I hate this plan. Literally everything about it. Except for Aetos being stabbed, maybe.” Of course Chradh told him about that. He’d have been delighted by the news, despising both him and Cath.

You give him a look.

“Okay, fine. I take that back.”

He doesn’t. 

By Wednesday, the pain in the bridge of your nose is gone, but your arm is still tender where Dain had been stabbed. Bodhi joins you in the gym, stretching with you for a few minutes before he settles into a plank at your side, his eyes never leaving the door.

Dain does not make an appearance at breakfast, notably absent from the leadership table.

Garrick excuses himself as soon as he sees you stand with your tray, catching you by the doors. “Remember that you’re stronger than both of them in all the ways that matter,” he says quietly. “I’ll find you as soon as you’re done.” You both tap your chest twice before parting ways, as has been your tradition for years -- a reminder that even though you’re leaving, you still hold the other in your heart.

Each step up to Varrish’s office is another reminder of what’s to come when you reach the top. “Cadet Avan,” he greets with another sickening smile. “Just in time. We were beginning to think you weren’t coming.”

Your jaw drops at the sight of Dain slumped into the same chair as last time, bloodied and exhausted.

“Nothing fatal,” Varrish reassures. “Not if you act quickly. Go ahead, get started.”

The Vice Commandant’s words have you on edge as you assess him, looking for gaping wounds or broken bones. Dain winces as your hands move over his ribs, and you whisper an apology, pressing in deeper. When your chest starts to ache, you know it’s time to move on. You mend two broken ribs, dissolve a purple bruise on his arm, and fix a split lip, but Dain still hasn’t woken up.

You turn back to Varrish. “One left,” he says. “Use your head.”

Oh, gods. He’d given Dain a concussion, because he knows the migraine it’ll give you will make it harder to shield. You cradle the second-year’s head in your hands, breathing out deeply as you transfer the pain from his body to yours, healing the bruised tissue. Dain blinks himself awake as you stumble, the room suddenly spinning.

“Well done. Aetos?”

You fumble for the arms of your chair, vision blurring at the edges, but you manage to sit back down.

“Say the word, and I get your mate,” Tab offers. He can probably feel your disorientation, concerned you won’t be able to block Dain out in this state.

“No,” you rasp back. “If he shows up, Varrish will have us practice on him instead.”

 You need to pick another memory to satisfy Varrish, something older, but your brain isn’t firing on all cylinders. Dain gives you a moment to gather yourself, a small gesture of mercy.

“A moment of pure happiness,” Tab suggests. “Something with the wingleader and your mate.”

You flip back in the book of your life, nearly all the way to the beginning, opening it to the right page to give to Dain and slipping it under the gate with a nod of your head — you’re ready.

Dain’s hands are warm against your freezing cheeks. A boy no older than five that he recognizes as Garrick crouches under a desk across the room, holding a finger to his lips. 

“Wherever could those children possibly be?” Someone muses aloud, and you fight laughter as the voice grows closer, thinking it amusing that this adult has no idea you’re hiding in the curtains.

Footsteps retreat, and Garrick signals for you to move. You make it down the hallway before you see someone searching — presumably whatever parent you’d convinced to play with you. Small hands tug you both behind a plush velvet couch. Xaden. 

You press yourselves up against it, trying to be as quiet as possible, watching as a shadow forms on the wall in front of you, then a head peers over the back of the couch — that must be your father. He looks just like you, has the same warm smile.

“One more, and then I need to get back to work,” He says, already moving to cover his eyes and starting to count to one hundred. You each run off in a different direction, and the scene fades there.

“A childhood memory,” Dain says. “Playing hide and seek in her father’s office with Riorson and Tavis.”

Not good enough for Varrish. “Give me something I can use,” he snarls, a Freudian slip, but nothing either of you hadn’t known already. 

You flip forward in the book, settling on a page you never look at, that you can’t bear to, but that Varrish will revel in. You rip it out, sliding it under the gate. “Bad,” you whisper, the only warning you can manage.

Dain nods in permission, ready to watch whatever memory you’ve pushed forward.

Someone presses a small stone into your hand, an intricate overlap of shapes and lines engraved on one side, the other perfectly smooth.

“Do not put it down, even for a moment,” your father says. He’s aged between now and the last memory, starting to go gray at his temples. “Keep it in your hand until the end. It will protect you when we can’t.”

He looks next to Garrick. “She is everything good about the world.” He says quietly. “Take care of her.”

Garrick promises he will, and your father pulls you into one last embrace before he leaves. Tears blur your vision, Garrick pulling you close. “It’ll be okay,” he soothes. “They’ll come back.”

Hours pass that Dain can’t see, because you don’t remember them. 

There’s an ache in your palm from clutching the stone so hard, the rounded corners digging into your skin. Garrick takes your free hand in his, interlocking your fingers. Then there’s only screaming and fire and rage, heat burning up your arm as it’s marked with inky swirls. Until the end, your father had said. This must have been what he meant.

“Her parents’ execution,” Dain says, a note of genuine hurt in his voice. “They gave each child a runestone before they left, as protection.”

Varrish’s eyes rake over to you. He leans forward, yanking on the leather cord that disappears into the neck of your shirt hard enough to pull your body with it. “A runestone like this one?”

“Yes,” you answer before Dain can, saving him the lie. You shut your eyes, wincing as the cold edge of a knife brushes against your neck and the cord breaks, a single drop of warm blood running down your collarbone. You don’t protest, you can’t, your mind still hazy and eyes wet with tears from reliving the memory with Dain.

“That will be all.” Varrish dismisses. He doesn’t make an appointment for you to come back. He has what he needs.

You stand, relying on your knowledge of the office’s layout to navigate your way forward until the door closes behind you.

“I’m so sorry,” Dain breathes once you’re down the hall far enough to avoid being heard. “If I had known,”

“It’s okay. The rune is long dead, and he has no idea how to recreate it. I’m just glad he didn’t hurt you again.” You blink, trying to clear your head. How are you going to get down all these stairs? You can hardly see.

“Here,” he says quietly, extending a hand. You take it, letting him loop an arm over his shoulders — your right, the one that Varrish hadn’t bruised black and blue on Dain — and lead you one step at a time.

You’re halfway down when you hear heavy footsteps running up the stairs. Garrick. He’d promised he’d find you when you were done. He doesn’t spare a glance at Dain, gathering you into his arms and apologizing when he puts pressure on your not-broken ribs.

Dain watches as the older boy carries you down the rest of the stairs, murmuring reassurances to you all the while. Your father’s words echo in his mind. “Take care of her.”

Garrick Tavis is a man of his word.

[hyuneskkami]

✮⋆˙ 𝐏𝐀𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

⤷ leo valdez x daughter of poseidon!reader

masterlist | event m.list

♡ fandom | the heroes of olympus

♡ includes | songfic (sort of), daughter of poseidon!reader, leo and reader both have glasses in this fic (YES i’m fulfilling my own delusions, leave me alone), ALL CHARACTERS INCLUDING READER ARE 17-18 pls don’t come at me for getting them married 🙏, leo x reader wedding, pre-established relationship, fluff, comfort, beautiful no nonsense kissing and happiness, tbh this is retribution for my previous emercy angst, HAPPINESS, third person pov for like five seconds, not proofread

♡ in which | leo and reader get married <3

♡ a/n | ok shiit. this was supposed to be a newlyweds prompt, but I wanted to write a wedding scene before that, so I completely missed the prompt that was requested ☹️ I still hope this fluff makes up for it a bit, and i'll try to work on a part 2 for a newlyweds drabble (tho I can't promise i'll actually end up writing it, sorry 💀)

♡ wc | 1.3k

✮⋆˙ y/n’s pov

“i’m way too nervous, my hands are shaking and what if I drop the ring? he’ll think i’m stupid! and he’ll leave me right there!”

“n/n? respectfully? shut up,” annabeth sighed.

“this is leo we’re talking about, man, and if there’s one thing I know for sure about him, other than the fact that he loves marshmallows, it’s that he’s whipped as fuck for you,” will’s voice rang out, walking into my cabin.

“trust!” piper’s voice came out of my closet, where she was looking for something decent for me to wear.

“okay… but, now I don’t have anything to wear. that’s another problem,” I whined.

“you could walk out there, and get married in your camp clothes, and it’d have the same effect on him either way,” piper rolled her eyes. “his mouth would like, hang open, and he’d make heart eyes at you—”

“shut up,” I grumbled. “what am I going to wear, pipes?”

“don’t you worry, darling, I got you,” she said, and winked at me, and handed me a denim-leather jacket.

✮⋆˙ leo’s pov

“what if I trip and fall in front of her? will she leave me—who am I kidding, of course she’ll leave me!—”

“she loves you, stop crying about it,” jason said, rolling his eyes.

nico walked in with a red tie and black leather jacket in tow, and told me it was one of the other kids who lent it to him (clearly not).

“oh. thanks,” I smiled.

“yeah, sure. uh, listen, valdez,” nico started. I narrowed my eyes at him. “if you ever hurt her, or make her cry, or anything, I will know. and I will come for your blood. and your organs, because the market is amazing for livers these days—”

“same here,” percy said. “if I see my little sister sad because of you? you’re done for, fire boy.”

they walked over to me, throwing their arms around my shoulder. “got it?”

“obviously,” I rolled my eyes. “and if she’s ever sad because of me, I think i’d kill myself.”

✮⋆˙ 3rd person pov

percy walked with his hand in y/n’s. she walked down the aisle in a black crop top below her unbuttoned white shirt, and a denim-leather jacket strung on top. in that moment, leo could only comprehend how much she looked like herself.

she was fidgeting nervously with her belt while walking towards him.

she looked up, shocked, to see him almost matching with her: white shirt, red tie, black leather jacket, and even the playboy grin.

I like shiny things, but i’d marry you with paper rings…

uh huh, that’s right…

watching him smile at her melted away her anxiety.

he wouldn’t leave her, of course not. they were in this together, forever.

a lopsided grin creeped up her face, setting his heart on fire.

she would always love him, he realised. never would she even think of leaving him.

darling, you’re the one I want, and…

✮⋆˙ y/n’s pov

percy let go of my hand so I could walk further towards leo, leaving me a thumbs-up.

“hey handsome,” I whispered, stopping in front of leo.

“hey beautiful,” he whispered back, still smiling at me.

“even after so many years, you know how to get my brain to stop functioning, it’s unfair,” I groaned, as he chuckled. his hand slipped into mine, lacing our fingers together. his thumb stroked the back of my hand as we turned to chiron, who was officiating our wedding.

he asks all our friends—dressed in shades of either blue or orange—to take their seats. we watched the youngest demigods, who were less than ten years old, walk around the chairs, giving out flowers to everyone.

“dearly beloved,” chiron reads out of his pocket notebook. “we are gathered here today to witness my two little kids join together in holy matrimony.”

everyone laughed and then quieted down.

“you can do your speeches or vows,” he prompted.

I exhaled and started first. “mia cara, thank you. I can’t believe today’s, well, finally here. I remember the, um, first day we met. we were both caught planting something for a prank in coach hedge’s bag, and spent a day in detention together,” I laughed and went on. “well, that was pretty much the day I fell in love with you. i’m so happy I have a boyfriend—well, almost-husband—and a best friend, both in the same person. so, I guess what I want to say is… I love you, leo.”

I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this…

uh huh, that’s right…

his eyes were glossing over, and a tear escaped down his cheek. I wiped it away, and smiled at him.

“oh my god, that was so sappy,” he rolled his eyes at me.

I hit him in his shoulder, and he laughed. “anyway, I think I never told you this, but I knew you before that day.”

I gasped a little bit and my eyes widened.

“it was the day you transferred to that wilderness school, probably around a month before we met. you were wearing the same jacket you’re wearing today, and your hair was in tiny braids, and oh my god, I remember thinking, ‘if I don’t talk to that girl soon, i’ll never forgive myself’ but I waited a whole month because I was too nervous.”

I laughed, “you were nervous for a month?”

“shut up bro,” he groaned. “you were just so beautiful and I thought you looked smart, which, I mean, you are. but then, I found out you were planning some prank for a bet, and I figured that was my chance.”

darling, you're the one I want…

“who knew that the first pranks we pulled would bring us to get married, huh?” I chuckled.

“I knew,” he said, “that was obviously why I did it. anyway, I wanna end this speech or whatever by saying what I thought of you the first day we met: I love you, y/n, and you’re stuck with me for life!”

“I better hope so, you’re not allowed to leave me ever, anyway,” I rolled my eyes.

chiron laughed at us, and called the ringbearers. “it’s time for you to exchange your rings.”

an eight-year old apollo camper and his twin brother walked up to us with matching boxes. each one gave a box to one of us.

we opened the boxes, got the rings out and held them.

leo pulled our interlocked hands up and let go, to slip his ring on my finger. I grinned at him, and placed mine on his finger as well. he smiled when he realised they were the first rings we had bought together after we snuck out of camp for the first time.

“with the power vested in me,” chiron started. “I now pronounce you man and wife. you may kiss the bri—”

before chiron could even finish, leo’s hands were on my waist, bringing me closer, our mouths colliding.

in paper rings, in picture frames, in dirty dreams…

oh, you’re the one I want…

our glasses hit each others’ twice, but neither of us cared. his hands were squeezing my waist, as if it were the end of the world if he let go. my hands wrapped around his neck, and I pulled him in closer than humanly possible.

his kisses were rarely soft and sweet, so today wasn’t a surprise.

tongues colliding, my hands in his hair, and grinning against each others’ lips.

“till death do them part!” a voice rang out from the crowd, everyone else laughing.

“even death won’t do us part, mi vida,” he pulled back, smiling and whispered.

kozumesphone © 2024 | don’t repost my works onto other platforms, or edit and post them even on tumblr, without asking me first • don’t steal my works, steal my heart instead • reblogs and comments are more than appreciated !

[lokiified]

a world with you

summary: when you get back from a mission, and Ethan isn't there.

pairing: ethan hunt x f!agent!reader

word count: 2.8k

author's notes: descriptions of injury, mention of a python snake, anxiety over major character death, flirty banter and some suggestive stuff, reference to a Jason Mraz song, so angsty for a bit but sweet fluff i promise, established relationship, no use of y/n, taking care of ethan bc he deserves it, i imagined this with mi2 ethan bc that look is just unmatched so this takes place in like 2007

The innocent mumble of traffic below the window was starting to give you a headache. Your ears had been strained, pricked-up to the slightest of noises, for what felt like ages.

Battered and bruised from the mission, you’d stumbled into the safehouse a mere hour ago. You were running on only adrenaline and Ethan’s training playing on loop in your brain as you instinctively started undressing to clean your wounds. The haze in your mind mercifully numbed the burn of rubbing alcohol and the aches in your bones, and when you finally came-to you’d showered and changed into a clean set of clothes. It was then that you realized that you didn’t know where Ethan was.

“If I don’t make it back, please don’t come looking for me,” he’d always said, brushing gentle lines across your cheekbone with the pad of his thumb, “keep yourself safe first.” He would press a soft kiss to your forehead, as if it would seal his words into your mind.

But now, now that he really wasn’t here, now that it was the fear of a dreaded possibility coming true that was clawing it’s way done your spine, it took more strength than any mission to keep yourself from throwing on your jacket and boots and marching back into the world, exhausted as you were, to find him.

The mission was simple: get in, plant a trace on a necklace in the hotel’s vault, and get out. You’d both been expecting the security in the back hallways of the hotel, but what you hadn’t prepared for was that one of the goons was an ex-agent, defected and gone rogue a few years prior; he recognized the two of you immediately. In the midst of the struggle, you’d been separated from Ethan.

Now, hands trembling as they fidgeted in your lap, you were waiting. The window in the living room was open and the apartment was dark, depriving every other sense to focus all of your attention on listening, waiting for Ethan to come back. Surely he was going to come back?

But the men were big and there were at least a dozen of them, and the memory was pierced with the crack of gunshots beneath the haze of adrenaline as you made a break for it.

You… made a break for it? Why did you run? Why didn’t you stay and fight like Ethan probably did? You were such a coward. How could you leave him there to fend for himself? Of course he’s can take care of himself, but what if he’s dead?

Then it would be your fault.

The guilt suddenly choked your lungs like a python with its prey, stifled sobs wreaking silent havoc on your body as you pulled your legs up to your chest and hugged yourself, burying your face into your knees. He was dead and it was your fault, all your fault. He had always been so selfless, so brave and so willing to do anything for you, even back when he barely knew you. You were a horrible person. You could never face Luther again; not with the knowledge that it was your fault Ethan was dead, that you had killed him—

“Agent?”

Your head snapped up from your knees, eyes locking onto the figure that had appeared in the window’s reflection. The sudden roar of blood pounding in your ears made you dizzy, and you squinted into the inky black night as you stumbled through the fog in your brain: he certainly looked like your Ethan, although the silhouette of his hair falling around his shoulders was the only detail you could make out in the darkness, but it seem impossible. He couldn’t be here. You’d left him behind, he was dead and it was all your fault. But then who was this man that had the key to the safehouse? Should you run? Suddenly the reflection was moving, then there was movement in your peripheral, and a figure that looked a whole lot like the Ethan you loved came and crouched in front of you.

“Hey,” he whispered, “I’m right here.”

His hands reached your waist but you jumped back at his touch and scrambled into the cushions, half expecting this to all be a hallucination. His hands recoiled and quickly raised in surrender, his brows twitching together with worry as he watched you, your chest beginning to heave in panic. Your heart longed to believe it was Ethan, wanted nothing more than to melt into his touch, but it didn’t make sense for him to be here.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said, keeping his eyes trained on yours as he slowly lowered a hand. You eyed the gun on the holster around his shoulders, but he moved past it and found the buttons of his shirt, undoing each one slowly and moving to slide the shirt over his shoulders. He quickly dropped it on the floor and brought his hands up again.

“It’s me, okay? I promise. You can check, I promise it’s me.”

You inspected him from afar, noting the smattering of bruises across his ribs and the graze of a bullet on the underside of his right arm, crusted over with blood. His skin was covered with a thin sheen of sweat and grime, but nowhere could you find any seams or signs of deception. You moved closer to him.

“Tell me something only my Ethan would know about me,” you said, your voice wavering in the aftermath of your panic. Ethan smiled, warming your heart with his radiance.

“Our first date was two years ago, in Rome, when our mission got called off after we’d already landed. I took you to dinner at a rooftop restaurant that overlooked the city, and we danced to that Jason Mraz song you love so much-“

“A World With You,” you finished with him, slipping off the cushion and into his open arms on the floor. His arms encircled you and squeezed gently, and your tears came spilling out of you at the comfort of his touch. He moved so his back was against the couch and you were cradled in his arms, his head resting atop yours as he stroked your arms to soothe you.

“I thought you were dead, I thought they killed you… I thought you were dead and it was my fault because I left you there, how could I leave you there?” The words tumbled out of you between sobs, your mind and body expelling all of your fears into his warm embrace.

“No, hey, I told you to run, remember?” He said, bringing a hand to lift your face and look at him. “I told you to run as soon as the guard recognized us, remember?” You shook your head, trying to recall his voice but all you could hear was the sound of gunshots and shouting fading behind you as you raced through the halls.

“I promise I told you to run, okay?” He brushed away the trail of tears on your cheeks and moved the hair out of your face as he spoke. “You were just following orders, you did the right thing.” His voice was like a balm to your wounds, soothing the guilt that gripped your chest. The rest of the night was coming back to you; Ethan’s frantic shout when he realized the situation with the guard, his promise to come find you. Your breathing evened out. You became aware of his own heart beating solidly beneath your weight, of the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

“Yeah… yeah okay,” you whispered, resting your head against his chest again. You focused on breathing, on the steady thumping of Ethan’s heart, the proof that he was alive here with you.

“We should really get you cleaned up,” you said after a while, and he sighed.

“I missed you,” he replied as he squeezed you tighter.

“I missed you too, but that doesn’t change the fact that you desperately need a shower.” His head sprung away from resting atop yours and he looked at you in disbelief.

“What are you saying, Agent?”

You pecked a kiss on his nose and grinned, “you stink.”

He broke into a grin and leaned closer to you, placing a hand on the back of your head and capturing your lips in a kiss. You moved in perfect tandem with each other, the anxieties of the day fading into the background as you poured your heart into this moment, this single moment where nothing else exists besides the two of you, kissing in the dark like two teenagers on stolen time.

Your arms draped over his shoulders and your hands moved to tangle in his hair, pressing your body against his as if you could get any closer to him. His hands moved between cupping your face and gripping your waist like he couldn’t decide where he wanted to touch you more. His teeth caught your lower lip and you released a breathy moan, and you felt his lips curl into a smile at the sound. He broke away with heavy breathing, pushing your hair out of your face.

“I thought I smelled bad” he whispered with a smile as you caught your breath.

“Oh you do.” Ethan leaned in to kiss you again, but you pulled away and stood to your feet. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” His face melted into a pout and you laughed, causing his lips to twitch up into a smile and betray his feigned offence. You reached your hands out to him and he accepted your help, standing up slowly. You noted the way he grimaced as he stood and your eyes flicked across his body in search of the source of his pain.

“Do you need help walking to the bathroom?” you asked, then rolled your eyes when he quickly shook his head. “Let me rephrase that: I’m going to help you walk to the bathroom.” Ethan grinned at you and accepted your aid, slinging an arm around your shoulder and lending you some of his weight. Slowly, the two of you made it to the bathroom where you set him down on the closed toilet seat. His shirt stayed behind on the floor of the living room, and in the dim light and sweet aroma of the candles you found in the cupboard you helped Ethan peel off the rest of his clothes and expose the wounds underneath. Mercifully, there were no major gashes besides the bullet graze on his arm.

“Are you injured at all?”

You gave him a stern look, “you’re not allowed to ask that until I’m done taking care of you.” You finished wrapping his arm and stepped back to inspect the rest of him, then walked over to the tub and started running the hot water.

You noticed the way his eyes followed you wherever you went, his gaze warm and filled with longing, like you were the most important thing in the world.

As the tub filled up you helped Ethan to his feet and into the now ankle-deep water. You pulled two towels and a facecloth from the shelf and put them on the mat in front of the tub. You’d showered earlier, but you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to pamper Ethan after a hard day. Goodness knows he deserves it.

You shut off the water and slid out of your sweats and t-shirt, the chill of the darkened apartment hitting you suddenly before you dipped your toes in the water. It was the perfect temperature, and warmed you instantly as you submitted yourself further into its embrace. You both sat facing each other, knees to your chests, the steam of the water rising up to color your cheeks and twist Ethan’s hair into curls.

Allowing the silence to linger like the steam in the air, you motioned for Ethan to turn around so his back was to you. You cupped your hands and brought water up to his head, soaking his hair through. You smiled to yourself as you reached for the shampoo, grateful that Ethan had remembered to bring his own products. He was very passionate about his precious hair, and the IMF’s safehouse supplies were never up to his standards.

You massaged the product into his scalp, the tension that remained in his neck melting away with every press of your fingers. His head rolled back and his shoulders dropped, and you caught a glimpse of his small smile, eyes closed in bliss. I should do this more often, you thought to yourself.

When you were done with his hair you pulled the showerhead from its hook on the wall and rinsed his head, combing your fingers through the strands as you went. Once the last of the shampoo was rinsed out you took the facecloth and lathered it up with soap. Gently, you scrubbed away the sweat and grime from the day, kneading the sore muscles beneath Ethan’s battered skin.

“I remember this one,” you whispered, so as not to startle him in the sacred stillness that had settled over the room. Your ministrations had paused at a long white scar, poorly healed and puckered. You dragged your finger down it, from the top of his right shoulder blade to his waist. “You got it in Malasia, back in ’04.” Ethan turned around to face you, a serious look set into his features.

“I remember,” he said, and you could see him flipping through the memories in his head. “You were captured. I disobeyed direct orders and went to rescue you.”

Your lips twitched up into a smile; he had saved your life that day.

“That was the day I realized I loved you.”

The sound of limbs wading through water wafted up your ears in the steam as you watched Ethan’s face, his hand coming up from the water to cup your face and his head leaning forward to rest against yours. You closed your eyes, feeling the heat radiating from his body and the dew that was rising on his skin from the heat of the water.

You’d always found a way back to each other, even before everything.

After a few minutes he pulled away and pressed a kiss to the edge of your hair, inhaling to smell your shampoo and smiling against your skin. You raised yourself out of the water and his eyes grazed over your body, a hint of his playboy smirk surfacing but he seemed to think better of it; it had been a long, tiring day for the both of you. Instead of whatever had crossed his mind, he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss on the front of each of your thighs. When you were both dried off, you pulled on your clothes from earlier.

“Let me go get you something, I’ll be right back.”

You returned with a soft cotton t-shirt, a deep green that complimented his tanned skin and chestnut hair beautifully, and his favorite pair of sweatpants. The sight of him in such comfortable clothes, a cheeky smile on his face, made your heart soar with joy. He deserved every comfort you could ever bring him. His hands were warm when they reached yours, fingers intertwining as you lead him into the darkened bedroom, the moon and city lights casting a gentle blue glow onto the bed.

You fell asleep almost instantly, but Ethan laid awake for hours. Despite the exhaustions of the day, he didn’t feel like he could sleep yet. He had been worried about you too; worried he would come back to the safehouse and find it empty, void of your presence which he so desperately needed. He always needed you, but after days like today he felt like he might die without you. There was no one else he felt safe enough to surrender to; no one else he could give his weakness and pain to and trust them to handle it with care.

The gentle rise and fall of your chest beneath his arm was continuously drawing him closer to sleep, but he felt the need to reflect on your time together and make sure he hasn’t taken anything for granted after being half-convinced he had lost you today.

He thought of Rome, of the way your face shone in the glow of the city lights beneath the rooftop where you danced with him. He thought of waking up beside you in countless countries that the average person could never name. He thought of the day he told you he loved you, hiding in a Russian forest while hiding for your lives. He thought of the day you were assigned to his team, your sweet and innocent face immediately lighting up his world despite the darkness that haunts him.

With your hands intertwined, your bodies as close as physically possible, and his mind filled with memories of a world with you, Ethan finally submitted himself to rest.

[sweetbillwriting]

Way Out of Line

ONE

Beneath my perfume and make-up I'm just a baby in disguise. And though I know that it's wrong to be alone with him that "come on look" is in my eyes.

Character: Keith Toshko from Barbarian (2022) played by Bill Skarsgård.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, heavy themes.

Notes: Merry Christmas! 🎀 I present my newest story now because it's set at Christmas. This story will be full of subjects that can provoke and a theme many recognize. The french is google translate!

Silver Bells, Silver Bells… It's Christmas time in the city…

I looked at the mountain of gifts in front of me on the floor. It was silly I still received so many Christmas presents and that my parents still said it was from Santa Claus. I was twenty-one years old, a whole woman, but I still got everything from my wish list. I sat and looked at an eyeshadow palette from Dior, swatching the shades on my hand while my dad sat and looked at me like I was still his five-year-old little girl. I would always be his little girl, even if I went to college and had my own car. Or technically it was his, but it was mine. What would he have done with a little white beetle?

“Are you happy with your gifts, Jacqueline honey?” Asked my mom when she came into the room, carrying her coffee mug. She was still dressed in her red robe that matched my red pajamas.

“Oh yes, thank you so much, I mean Santa,” I said with a giggle and laid the palette on the neat pile of gifts by the well-decorated Christmas tree. My mom smiled, pleased, and sat down next to my dad, who also drank his morning coffee.

“When will the others be here?” I asked as I stood up, ready to take a shower and make myself ready for our Christmas guests. It was my older brother with his family and my aunt with hers. There would be thirteen people, and I would sit by the kids table as usual. I didn't complain because I had never had a reason to leave the table, and I probably had more in common with my teenage cousins than the grown-ups.

“They will be here at one, but you know Jason is always early,” my mom said looking at her phone, probably checking for Christmas greetings on Facebook. I nodded a little before leaving my parents in our Christmas-decorated living room to walk to my bedroom on the second floor. I had my own en suite bathroom there and could take the time I needed. It was just family, so it wasn't really that important to look great, but it felt better to do my full routine even if no one would touch my smooth legs or check if my eyeliner was completely even.

While I stood in front of my mirror, after my shower, there was a knock on the door, and in confusion, I answered, “yes.”

“Can I come in?” my mom asked, against the door. Doubtfully I opened it even if I was just dressed in a white spaghetti top and panties, but my mom didn't seem to think about that; she just looked at me with big eyes.

“Would it be okay if you took Jason's old room for a few days?”

My first thought was that my aunt and her family would sleep over, but a few days sounded like a very long time.

“What? Why?” I looked around in my bathroom, all my expensive things and light colors. Children were not allowed in there. My mom looked stressed, fixing the red jacket of her velour tracksuit over and over.

“Your dad's friend, Keith, has suddenly showed up.”

I looked at Mom with furrowed brows. I have heard about Keith but more in a nostalgic way from my father’s old stories. I knew he was a musician, and my dad had been close friends with him when they went to college but seemed to have drifted away because of their different lifestyles.

“Why? It's Christmas Day? You can't just show up on Christmas Day?” I said, pulling out a drawer under the sink to search for a warmer shade for my lip pencil. My mom leaned against the marble sink and sighed.

“He has separated. Seems like he has been kicked out and needs somewhere to sleep. Awful woman who kicks him out on Christmas morning!”

“Maybe he is a pig? Maybe he has cheated? Or he's abusive? I dunno, men can be trash.” I continued to search for the right pencil, comparing them to each other. My mom shook her head but then looked at me seriously.

“So can he take your room?”

I had forgotten about the question, and when she asked it again, I felt my hackles go up. Some cheating, gross man would not sleep in my bed.

“Why? He can take Jason's room?”

“Yours is the only one with a bathroom. If he will live here for a while, he can't use the bathroom in the hallway all the time.”

I crossed my arms and pouted.

“Why not? I can't just move all my stuff to Jason's room!”

“We’ll move the important things, and he will let you in to get stuff. I'm sure of it! Keith is nice!”

I made a frustrated sound and pouted, trying to make my mom feel sorry for me, but she started to go through my drawers and cabinets, probably to see what I actually needed to move into the other room.

“Mom...! I whined and stomped my foot like a toddler but didn't get a reaction. Instead, I walked out to my room and looked at its cream color palette. It was so light, fresh, and clean, and a man would absolutely destroy that. I had never even had a guy in my bed, and I wanted it to be that way. I didn't like the smell of heavy cologne or cheap hair products.

“He will destroy something!”

“He will not,” sighed my mom as she walked out from the bathroom too, looking at my room. I think the both of us found things that were a bit embarrassing. My prizes from spelling competitions, my old children's books and movies, but also a super old picture of me and my high school boyfriend I still hadn't thrown out. There were leftovers from my time as a teenage girl in the room; it wasn't a grown woman's bedroom completely.

“Maybe you should stuff some things away…” My mom said gently while looking at my collection of seashells that lay spread out on the windowpane. Once again I huffed in frustration, but Mom didn't care.

“I'll go and find some linen for him, and you can start to move your things to Jason's room.”

I watched my mom leave while I stayed in the middle of my room with crossed arms. I didn't want to leave my room to a stranger. It felt intrusive, and I wondered if he would go through my stuff, read my journals, sniff my panties, or something. I had so much makeup he could break, and he maybe would leave hair and body fluids on my stuff, but my mom had made the decision. I knew she wouldn't change her mind, but I knew there was maybe another way to go, and that was to ask Keith.

I pulled on a pair of silky baby blue pajama shorts with my spaghetti tank. I fixed my hair, long and flowy, and then my makeup the sweet and girly way I've noticed other men liked. I maybe wasn't so experienced in having relationships with men, but I knew how to get their attention and use it for my own gain. Every good-looking girl knew that.

I walked down the stairs while practicing what I would say in my head. I would talk to my dad so Keith could overhear my fake sadness, and say to him how I can't sleep somewhere else. When my dad would say no, because he would, even if it pained him, just because he couldn't go against my mom, I would leave and go by Keith and say hello to him. I would look sad with shiny eyes but sweet and kind, playing with my long hair and fluttering my long lashes. I would brush my hair over my shoulders so he could see my chest, and I would play with the bow in the front of my shorts. I felt quite sure that he would give in.

When I had descended the stairs, I tried to locate my father and listened for sounds and heard someone sniffle in the living room. Knowing that my dad had a cold for a long time, I was sure it was him and prepared myself to look like his sad little girl. I walked into the big living room, looking around the corner by the open fireplace to see if my dad sat on one of the couches, but he wasn’t; instead, another man sat there.

I had never seen a photo of Keith, and I had never thought anything else other than that he was the same age as my dad, but the man who sat on the couch was probably just a few years over 30 and also looked handsome, even if his face was covered by his two big hands. He was crying, and something told me it had been far worse earlier because his hands shook, and in front of him on the table lay several used napkins. He sniffled again and dragged the back of his hand over his eyes, and it was then he saw me.

Both of us looked surprised at one another. In silence, we looked at each other up and down. I couldn't say how he saw me or why we didn't say anything. I just knew I was looking at a really attractive man with big, sad eyes.

“Are you okay?” I said carefully, and he smiled sadly and nodded. My first instinct was to run from him, run from the awkward moment of seeing a grown man cry, but my curiosity took over, and I felt a need to know more. Slowly I walked up to him and sat down in the other corner of the couch with my feet pulled up.

“Are you Keith?”

“Yeah… You must be Jacqueline?” He changed his position so he sat more towards me. I nodded a little and looked away in embarrassment after having looked at him a bit too long.

“Thank you for letting me come like this to you… And on top of that, take your room. I understand if that doesn't feel good; I can sleep wherever-”

“It's okay. It's okay,” I interrupted with a smile even if I had felt something completely different before. He dried his cheeks and smiled with a lowered gaze that made him look boyish even if he probably was ten years older than me. A giggle escaped my lips, but it caused him to just look at me with a bigger smile.

“I can show you the room...”

“Oh, thank you,” he said and stood up with me. He was much taller than me, and I got a tingle in my stomach that moved down lower when I looked at him up and down discreetly.

Been an awful good girl. Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight…

He walked behind me up the broad stairs, and I wondered how his view looked. How much of my ass could he see? Could he see how closely I've shaved my legs?

My cheeks heated like I've been sitting by an open fire, but thankfully my makeup covered a bit of it. I stepped into my room a bit embarrassed but also overwhelmed over having such a big man so close to me. His presence was almost overbearing, and I could feel my heart beating faster and faster.

He took some steps into the room and looked around at the interior, but I just looked at him. He was the first guy, except family members, who had been into my bedroom. He had on a pair of loose lounge pants that sat more tightly over his ass and also in the front, and I couldn't stop myself from looking. I could feel a pulse in my nether regions that made me squirm a little in my place. I had never had the feeling of wanting to be close to a man before just by looking at him, but there was something special with him, but I couldn't say if it was his eyes, lips, or body that made my limbs get soft.

Just by reflex I looked up at his face and met his questioning look.

“Hm?” I said, laying a hand over one of my glowing cheeks.

“I should give you a gift; it's Christmas, and you let me sleep in your bed and… Yeah, it's really nice of you. I should give you a gift.”

I smiled at him sweetly even if my thoughts were far from sweet. Something had taken over me after just meeting Keith, and my otherwise sweet thoughts were dripping with promiscuity. The only gift I wanted from him was to be able to share my bed with him and feel that Christmas spirit taking over us completely.

All I want for Christmas is you…

×××

Have a holly jolly Christmas; it's the best time of the year…

I wore a velvety burgundy dress with a big white collar and a black bow in my half-updo hairstyle. I had always dressed sweet at Christmas, going back to my childhood style, but I felt silly when I stood next to Keith. He was in a deep conversation with my brother about some soul artist I had never heard of, so I stood awkwardly next to them and just listened. During family celebrations, I most often was with my sixteen-year-old cousin Savannah, but I was afraid Keith would see me as a teenager if I was with her and talked about young actors and influencers.

The men continued to talk over my head while I played with my fingers nervously. Earlier, before my 28-year-old brother began talking to Keith, it was he who had been awkward. It was understandable; he would celebrate Christmas with a family he didn't really know, invited due to unfortunate events. He didn't seem to have had much clothing with him either because he had one of my dad's plaid button-ups on, but he still wore the gold band on his left hand. I didn't know what to think about it because I had no idea how it was to be separated, but I still thought he should have taken it off; he had been thrown out on Christmas.

“Chéri, aide-moi au lieu de rester là comme un imbécile.”

My mom began to carry out the dinner to the table and told me to help with a snappy voice. I woke up from my deep thoughts and met Keith's eyes. I couldn't read him, and I swallowed hard before giving him a shy smile. My brother mentioned another musician, and Keith turned his eyes to him quickly to be able to follow the conversation and made me feel silly that I believed he would give me his attention. I started to help my mother, even if my hands shook, and from nerves I did everything thoughtless and messy. My mom groaned, irritated, and fixed the cutlery I knocked into and moved the serving plates I put in the wrong place.

“Tu vas bien? Tu es si maladroit aujourd'hui.”

My mom asked if I felt alright but more irritated than caring, and I looked at her tired; she always stressed on Christmas.

“Je vais bien j'ai juste un peu mal dormi.”

I blamed my sleep and shrugged my shoulders. My mom accepted my excuse, but when she walked back to the kitchen, I looked towards the living room, where I could see Keith now talking with my aunt's husband. I wished I could join them and talk with ease and charm to him, but I didn't even dare to go up to him again. It felt like I had stood awkwardly next to him too much this evening. Instead, I stayed by the dinner table still just as awkward and looked at him with wide eyes. He didn't look like any other guy I've met, and he was so tall he was towering over my whole family. Even if he looked so manly, he moved softly and had a kind aura.

“Are you avoiding me or something?” Savannah had walked up to me with crossed arms.

“What? No.” I looked down at the table and pretended to correct a glass.

“Good.” She pulled out a chair and began playing with a fork, something I would never dare to do because of my mom.

“Do you keep up with Barry Keoghan?” She said excitedly, like it was the most important thing in life. I gave her a fast look and right after that at Keith. If he walked in and heard me talk about such shallow things, he would never talk with me for real.

“I must help Mom…” I said instead and gave Savannah a shoulder shrug.

There wasn't much left to do, and just minutes later, everything was ready. I took a last look at the tables. The dining table sat seven people, and then the other table sat six. I would sit at the smaller table, the kids table. I looked at the childish napkins and the soda in the middle and then thought about Keith. I would sit at the kids table. I felt a weird mix of panic and shame and looked at my mom, who took a last look at the arrangement. It was now or never.

“I want to sit with the grown-ups.”

I sounded like an eleven-year-old that wanted to play adult, and I felt my cheeks glow. My mom turned to me and looked at me confused, but then she shook her head. She gave me a sharp no in French.

“Why?” I whined and felt the panic even harder.

“It's good you're there and can help the younger kids.”

“But Savannah is there!”

“I said no,” said my mom with a louder voice, probably to make me give up, just like she did when I was a kid. That got my dad's attention, and he peeked into the dining room looking confused.

“What is it?”

“I want to sit with the adults. I'm 21! But Mom won’t let me!”

My dad gave my mom a look with furrowed brows. For many years he had felt that I should have a spot at the adult table, so for him it was given that I would change seats. My mom looked at us and then sighed and muttered something in French I couldn't hear. I didn't care what she said because I had won, and I couldn't hide my big smile… It wasn't really that I wanted to sit with the adults; the thought made me slightly nervous, but it was a relief to not look like a kid in front of Keith.

I'll have a blue Christmas without you. I'll be so blue just thinking about you…

Savannah looked hurt when she saw the kids table get filled up while I stood by the dinner table. I had taken a seat at the end where I knew my dad would sit. It felt safe to have one of my parents close, even if I knew everyone except Keith around the table. I looked at an empty seat, and that's when I realized the only seat left for Keith was the one right next to me. I stared out in front of me, scared to look toward my side when he walked up and filled my nose with a warm, musky scent.

“Is it okay if I sit next to you?” He asked, and I gave him a glance. I stared right into his chest, forgetting how tall he was, and looked away again. I gave him a little nod, then looked at my father, speaking to my brother, while standing by the chair next to him and opposite of Keith.

“Thank you…” Keith mumbled, and I gave him one more glance, this time remembering his eyes were higher up than mine. I met the green of his iris, and he gave me a smile before he took a hold of my chair and pulled it out for me. I didn't know where to look because to me that was a thing guys did on a date, or at least for a woman they were attracted to. I looked at my father, afraid he would be upset with Keith, but my dad shared a smirk with Keith, his friend, who just did it playfully to amuse his little daughter.

Keith let go of the chair when he realized I hadn't sat down, and I could see my dad looking on still amused, as if he had made fun of me. I felt the shame rise again but tried to swallow it down because I really wanted to make a good impression in front of Keith. I didn't really know why. It wasn't like I believed anything would happen between us, that I had a chance with a married man, but I wanted to be able to at least pretend something could happen between us.

I sat down, trying to do it smoothly, like a lady, and then looked at Keith when he had sat down next to me. I could feel my cheeks heat, like they had many times that day, but I pretended like it wasn't there. I wanted to talk to him. I wanted to feel I was closer to him.

“How old are you?”

As soon as I heard what question I had picked, I bit my tongue. I had so many questions, but clearly my mouth had chosen the question I wanted an answer to the most. Keith smiled a little and took the wine bottle in front of him and the cork screw that lay next to it.

“Younger than your dad, if that's what you're wondering.”

Instead of looking at me, he looked towards my dad so he could gain his attention. “I'm not an old man!”

My dad laughed and threw out a finger towards Keith.

“Still, you look older than I do, Toshko!”

Keith laughed like it was impossible, and then they continued their banter. I sat and looked between them with a small smile even if I wasn't amused. I wanted a real answer to my question and had a silly thought about how I didn't want Keith and Dad being friends, even if that was the reason why Keith was in our home.

The men quit joking when my mom came to my father to ask him something, and Keith looked at me again.

“I'm 38. So yeah, a bit younger than your dad.” He smiled kindly at me, and I could see small lines around his eyes. He was almost 40. My dad was 47, so the age difference wasn't as big as I had thought between them. The age difference between me and Keith was bigger, though. 17 years.

“You're 20, right? I think you were, like, four when I met your dad.”

“21…” I stared at his big hands while he opened the wine bottle skillfully and I felt something itching in my stomach.

“Did you meet me then?” My voice was small.

“No, it never got that way.” He shrugged his shoulders, then showed me the bottle.

“Wine?”

I looked between his handsome face and the bottle before shaking my head. 

××× 

Santa, tell me if you're really there. Don't make me fall in love again…

I had said to myself that I wouldn't be with Savannah so much to make a more grown-up impression in front of Keith, but after he had told me his age, I gave that up. After dinner I played cards with her and her fifteen-year-old brother and then watched Miracle on 34th Street with the rest of my cousins. How Keith would see me as an adult felt impossible when he had heard about me since I was three years old. I would be a little girl in his mind forever. 

I saw him drink whiskey, smoke a cigar with my uncle, and was loud in that obnoxious way only middle-aged men could be. My ex had been a boy, a boy who liked tennis and Fortnite. I shook my head to myself when I thought about it but still felt an exciting curiosity when I looked at him. He smiled at me a few times, and a couple of times I succeeded in smiling back, but that was the only contact we had the rest of the day until it was time for me to go to bed. 

After my brother, Savannah, and all the others had left, I helped my mom in the kitchen so there wouldn't be so much work to do the next day. Both of us could feel the tiredness in our eyes and bodies and looked at each other confused when we could still hear my dad laugh loudly from the living room. On past Christmas Days he had even fallen asleep before the guests had gone home, but now he listened to jazz, drank, and laughed with Keith in the living room. He seemed to have lost ten years on his age by having Keith there, and I could see my mom was annoyed. She probably wanted to be able to lie down in bed with him because she marched out to them and told him sourly it was time to go to bed. I smirked, amused in my loneliness, because with age, my mom's diva behavior started to become funny instead of scary or annoying. I walked up to my room, skipping on saying goodnight so I wouldn't need to wait for them to finish their nagging. I was tired and lost in thought, so I forgot an important thing: I wasn’t sleeping in my bedroom. It was loaned out to someone else, but I just walked in and, in my sleepiness, closed the door and started to take off my clothes. 

I thought about Keith's marriage while I pulled off my tights. Who was his wife? How long had they been married? 

I thought about their separation while I pulled off my dress. Why did she kick him out? Would they make up? 

I thought about who he was as a husband while I pulled off my bra. Was he loyal? Was he romantic? Was he a generous lover? 

When I stood in my panties, laying my clothes on an armchair in the corner of the room,I heard a creek and looked towards the door that was being opened determinedly. I concealed my chest but didn't do more than that to cover my modesty. In my mind it could only be my mother. No one else would just open my door like that, but in the doorframe stood Keith, so tall his messy hair licked the top of the doorframe. I looked towards him in confusion for a few seconds. His eyes showed shock at first, but then we both seemed to relax under each other's gaze. I could feel him looking at my body from top to toe, and I basked in how his eyes glittered.

“I can take the other bedroom…” he said as he smirked a little. The smirk made me feel a sensation take over me, and a need for rebellion came over me, so I let go of my chest slowly. Keith swallowed hard but his smile grew while dragged a hand over his face. He looked over his shoulder like he was afraid someone would come, but at that moment I didn't care. He pulled his lip and shook his head a little. 

“Um... Good night.” 

“Good night,” I said, with a teasing smile, playing with my hair while I walked to my bed, letting him see my breasts in motion. I didn't know where the confidence came from, probably just seeing his eyes swimming with attraction and his cheeks rosy. 

“Merry… Merry Christmas,” he mumbled before taking a last look and closing the door to my bedroom. I sat on the edge of the bed and looked at the door for a few seconds before starting to giggle. I couldn't believe I had done that. I couldn't believe how he had looked at me. Keith was a grown man. A tall, sexy man. 38 years old. But he was also a friend to my dad. 

×

[bludstein]

UTRH×WFA Dimensional Body Swap (Part 1)

Disclaimer:

-I haven't read Batman much so my knowledge is limited to BTAS, UTRH The Movie, Young Justice, Super Sons, WFA, and a few other comics with specific banter. I am so sorry to Tim, Steph, Cass, Barbara, and Duke fans out there.

-WFA in this fic is pretty much an alternate universe where heroes actually went to therapists (and no one suffered from Character Assassination) so some things didn't happen or did happen but went differently.

-I assumed since Bruce got therapy earlier, he became a better person and father in the process. Which led a domino effect where Dick became a flawed yet better brother to Jason (albeit not as good as the present Dick). Jason, who is showered with more love than the original, ended up with his personality in WFA.

-Under the Red Hood arc in WFA most likely happened earlier since Jason is still a whooping 19 year old. So, assuming the mainline Jason is currently 22 then WFA Jason would've been 17 or even 16 year old during his Red Hood debut. It also went off rails in the middle since this Jason can't even face the Joker without going on panic attack and was saved by Bruce. They made up not long after.

WFA Jason arriving on his safehouse, only to get flash-banged and ended up in a different place. He's in an alleyway—one he didn't recognize. He notices that the air is different—still polluted but lacked the distinct smog of chemical concoctions made by Batman's Rogues Gallery. He steps outside for a bit, this place totally isn't Gotham. It's way too bright and modern—wait, is that the Statue of Liberty? No way, Jason is in New York? But why? Is it a villain attack?

He reaches for the phone in his jacket, realizing it's out of power. Damn it, who knew that teleportation messed with your phone's battery? He picks up the sound of battle—hearing a familiar clash of escrima sticks against flesh and bones. He knows exactly who it is—hearing a similar sound not too long ago. Jason trails after the source, striding through the streets and went up the stairs. He hears bone cracking, gunshots, and two voices—an older man and Dick talking. Maybe Dick got teleported too? Suddenly, a figure in black and blue falls from the rooftop.

Jason's heart stopped for a moment and instinctively catches Dick in his arms. He let out a sigh of relief, hauling Nightwing onto the fire escape. Huh, did Dick got a new hairstyle? Why did he changed into his older gear? Whatever it is, it can wait. They have to move towards a safer place—leading the older man to the rooftop.

"Are you okay? I heard gunshots and came to check." Jason asks, his worry evident even through the voice modulator. He checks on Dick's injury, finding a broken hand and a few bruises.

Dick looks at him funny, assessing his appearance before asking. "Since when did you have a bat symbol on your costume?" Jason can hear the scrutiny and suspicion in his voice. He raises an eyebrow—though Dick can't see it through his helmet and instead answers in confusion. "Since a few years ago?"

Dick doesn't buy it for whatever reason, his brows furrowing. "You weren't even back that long." He says matter-of-factly, his suspicion growing. "Whatever it is you are scheming, it needs to stop now. My hand is full with the Pierce Brothers and I sure as hell don't need you to make it harder by impersonating me."

"What do you mean?" Jason asks incredulously, now it's his turn to look at him funny. Pierce Brothers? Impersonating? Tonight is getting weirder and weirder. Oh god, could it be?

"Exactly what it means—" Dick is cut off by rains of bullets, dodging them by his sheer reflex and agility. He follows through, moving just in time and glances up at the taller building across the road. However, Jason is suddenly tackled by Nightwing—a grunt escapes him as they roll all over the concrete floor five feet across his original position.

"Wait, Nightwing! I think there is a big misunderstanding—"

"What misunderstanding? I know it was you under that Nightwing costume, murdering people left and right."

"I haven't—" Jason trails off and quickly adds. "What year is it?"

"Oh, the big bad Red Hood forgets his calendar? Obviously, it's—"

Oh.

Oh, that was... years ago.

But how? He joined the family not too long after Bruce found him, panicked and scared. He was supposed to capture the Joker and gave Bruce an ultimatum. However, Jason wasn't brave enough—that laugh is enough to sent him into a panic attack and ruined whatever plan he had.

It took a while to understand that Bruce loved and cared about him—in his own way. They went to Black Canary for consultation, a middle ground between their differing minds. She explained that Bruce would lose everything if he broke his one rule—his friends, his family, and even himself. He found out along the way that Dick had avenged him, albeit briefly and it took a huge toll on the man's mental health. He also found out that Tim wasn't half bad—begrudgingly so.

It wasn't always a smooth journey, of course. Not enough people understand the sheer patience and forgiveness it took to went through the path of recovery. Jason wasn't even allowed to patrol until he was in good enough headspace. Rubber bullets was the compromise they made on one of their therapy sessions. Now that Jason is out of place and time, without the support of his family and friends—with bloody reputation to booth—how will he return home?

(Might upload the fic to Ao3 if it got good enough response).

[erinwantstowrite]

Hihi I wanted to say thank you ! Bit random but your fic has helped me realize that it’s okay to just have fun with writing a fic and it doesn’t have to follow any rules or such.

I used to only write main ideas for fics I wanted to write but was always too nervous about messing up or it sounding dull that I never managed to follow through, but while reading LoF and such, it’s helped me see that it’s a lot more relaxed than I thought it to be. I can happily say I’m writing my own contribution to the Spidey in Gotham niche and yeah I just wanted to thank you <3

And a a little question of how you decided on all the suits for your AUs ? Like Peter’s jacket in LoF or that INCREDIBLE venom AU suit (it looks so cool)

Ahhh that's so cool!! I really really love that!! Writing is supposed to be fun and crazy and adventurous! You write for yourself first, forget about what could be "cringe" or "lame" to someone else, and go for it! :) I hope your writing journey takes you far and you see many places to write about!

And I've always been fascinated by character design. It started with my first ever anime, Fairy Tail. The designs can be cheesy or fanservicey but I loved that they never really made sense in a set of time or era specific, and that they were always interesting, if a little cooky.

Designing suits is a pain in the ass, but fun. It's a lot of looking at artwork that I really enjoy that other artists made and seeing what I think the character I'm designing for would like the most- or looking at fashion from all different walks of life. It's also a lot of keeping in mind a characters story, the themes of their life, etc. Details, details, details.

I decided on the jacket that Peter wears in LoF because, well, he needed a jacket. It's getting colder and his regular jackets weren't going to cut it for the whole "secret identity" thing. So far in Peter's life, he'd been wearing what is "practical" to have and not what he wanted to have. In LoF, he's starting to branch out in his identity as Spider-Man. He looks up to Jason in a way (thinks he's cool) so I figured he'd want to wear something like Jason. He got the new jacket and he ended up wearing a domino mask too- something to symbolize that his time in Gotham is starting to change him. It's no coincidence that he gets these items and the same chapter, he ends up finally at the Batcave.

But with him designing the jacket, making it his own, and even putting an Iron Man patch on one sleeve? It means he's still himself, Spider-Man, and he's still got his home on the mind. It just also happens that Peter cares about Gotham now, too.

As for the venom suit, I took influence in the Venom designs I saw from the comics or fanart (I didn't make a board, so I can't pull up the exact refs right now), and also looking at other Spider designs from the Spiderverse movies. I kept it mostly the same suit I designed for LoF Peter, just with darker hands (as to say, blood stained), claws, a harsher/more vibrant red, etc, as a way to say that he has not moved past the kid he was when he was first bit, and Venom changed him for the worst. :)

I have more suit designs (such as LoF Peter's suit changing over time) but I can't share them yet,,,, They're technically spoilers,,,, RIP,,,,

[pekejscatbed]

Leather Jackets and Painkillers | Jason Todd & Tim Drake

Info/Warnings:

Tim Drake-centric, Trans Tim Drake, Menstruation, Tim is on his period and in PAIN, Jason takes care of him, Good Sibling Jason Todd, Tim Drake is Red Robin. Jason Todd is Red Hood, Trans character written by trans author 

batman masterlist

------

Red Robin is in the middle of tying up a pair of thugs when a particularly bad cramp hits, twisting his insides like a blender and stabbing his gut with the viciousness of Damian with his katana; he grits his teeth, willing the pain to go away, and works his nimble fingers around the cord to finish off the knot.

With the criminals now taken care of, Red Robin taps the comm link in his ear, "O, I got two thugs tied up here."

"On it, Red. Alerting police now." Oracle responds after getting the location.

Red taps his ear once more, effectively shutting off their communication, then grapples to the top of a nearby building to wait for the police just in case the goons escape, or someone comes along to cut them free. While waiting, another cramp has Red clutching at his stomach and he has to sit down on the building's roof to stop himself from swaying on his feet and falling over the edge. He groans, cursing to himself as waves of pain wash over him, and his vision flutters before he realizes what's about to happen- fuck.

Suddenly, Red Robin falls to his side, vision black as excruciating pain grabs ahold of his consciousness and knocks him out.

------

Red Hood is out on patrol, surveying his territory for trouble and shooting (rubber) bullets at anyone who provides it, when he notices the collapsed figure a few buildings away, just on the outside of his territory; when he gets closer, he realizes who that figure is, red chest piece and black sleeves and leggings giving it away before Hood even sees the yellow bird head in the middle of the figures chest: Red Robin.

Muttering curses to himself, The Hood bends over and picks the other up, throwing the smaller male over his broad shoulder. With Red Robin hanging over his shoulder, Hood's arm around his thighs to keep him from slipping, Hood turns in the direction of his nearest safe house.

About halfway to his hideout, Red Hood smells the metallic odor of blood thanks to the absence of his helmet, only wearing his domino mask tonight, before he feels a wetness against his shoulder, and he curses once more. "If you got blood on my goddamn leather jacket..."

He grumbles to himself, moving faster now, obviously so he can clean his jacket sooner and definitely not because he's worried that his (brother) replacement is injured.

The pair arrive at the safe house without incident, and Hood is quick to lay Red Robin on the couch that Hood himself has laid injured on many times before. He begins to strip Red of his suit, of his crime fighting persona, starting with the mask, turning Red Robin back into Tim Drake. The cape comes off next, then the chest piece, and so on.

Tim is down to his underwear when Jason realizes the other has no injures- scratch that- no open wounds, because in this line of work? One is always injured in one way or another, Tim is no exception, but none of the youngers current injuries are bleeding, and that confuses Jason. He looks down at his jacket, which definitely has blood on the shoulder, and at his hands, that are sticky with crimson; he then goes through the difference pieces of Tim's uniform, searching for blood, when he comes across the wet spot at the crotch of his leggings- his hands pull away covered with blood, and of course he didn't see it, because Tim's leggings are black and so are his underwear, but that means-

Jason looks at Tim's chest, where identical crescent scars shape his chest, and he remembers the gender marker on Tim's file when Jason first found out he'd been replaced as Robin and went snooping, and how the F was crossed out with a M next to it, and-

Tim is on his fucking period.

------

Tim wakes up in a bed he doesn't recognize, in a room he doesn't recognize, and he's not in uniform even though he remembers that being the last thing he wore, instead dressed in an oversized pair of black sweatpants and a red hoodie that engulfs the whole upper half of his body, and he knows he's seen this hoodie before...

There's a nightstand to the right of the bed with a bottle of painkillers and a glass of water on the surface, as well as a bottled sports drink from Tim's go-to brand. In front of the nightstand are two plastic grocery bags from a corner store native to Gotham, one filled with a variety of Tim's favorite snacks and different brands of chocolate, the other filled with pads and tampons in a multitude of sizes-

Tim slips out of the bed and quietly opens the drawers of the nightstand, snooping around for anything to tell him where he is and who lives here. The first drawer contains medical equipment, bandages and gauze and hydrogen-peroxide, etcetera. The second drawer is half filled with shirts and half filled with pants, though under the clothes lies a pocketknife and picture of... Alfred and teenage Jason?!

Tim sighs, now knowing who brought him here and where he is, or where he thinks he must be: one of Jason's hideouts. Still, that doesn't mean he's safe, as Jason has hurt him before- what if this is all just a trick, a trap? Tim slowly opens the bedroom door and tip-toes his way out of the room and around the corner, where he sees a uniform free Jason hunched over on the couch, wearing grey sweatpants and a green t-shirt and scrubbing at what looks like a leather jacket.

Jason doesn't look up as he sighs, "You owe me a new jacket, pretender."

"And I owe you a new jacket because?" Tim raises an eyebrow as he walks fully into the room, stopping a few steps away from the couch.

"Because," Jason emphasizes the word as he looks at Tim, throwing the jacket at the other, "you got blood on it."

Tim looks at the stain on the jackets shoulder.

"You do know I found you passed out on a rooftop, yeah?" Tim doesn't answer, throwing the jacket back. "What happened?"

Tim scoffs. "I think you know, considering the bags you left by the bed."

"If you're in enough pain to pass out on a fucking roof, then you shouldn't be out there in the first place."

"Don't tell me what to do!" Tim oh so cleverly fires back as another rush of pain hits him full force, and he stumbles for a second before catching himself.

"You didn't take the painkillers." Jason rolls his eyes as he stands, letting his jacket fall to the couch, and he grabs Tim's arm, dragging him back to the bedroom. "Come on."

"Let me go, asshole!" He tries to fight back, but he's in too much pain, though he's brought some comfort when he's pushed to the bed and a blanket is thrown over him, and he stays quiet when Jason hands him two of the painkillers and the glass of water, taking them without protest. However, he does ask, "Why are you doing this?"

It's now Jason's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"Why are you being nice to me? Don't you care that I'm..." Tim's voice trails off.

"I don't. It's none of my businesses." Jason shrugs, picking up the bag of pads and tampons from the floor and dropping them next to Tim on the bed. "You might wanna use these. I didn't... I didn't think you'd be comfortable with me going that far, so I just put you in my sweats. You can put on something else if you bled through. Bottom drawer."

Jason walks out of the room before giving Tim any time to respond, and Tim just stares for a minute, what the fuck on the tip of his tongue, before he takes Jason's advice and grabs the bag, making his way towards the bathroom.

[xmochaccinox]

Kendratello: An Analysis

What’s up?

I wanted to do an analysis on this ship, and now I'm doing it!

If you are in the Rise Fandom and somehow you have never heard of it, Kendratello is basically a ship between Donnie and Kendra that’s slowly gaining popularity

For as long as I have been in the Rise fandom, I’ve been seeing this ship popping up more and more. By now, it’s almost impossible to meet someone who hasn't heard of the ship, and even though there’s not much content of it, there’s definitely more people who ship it than you think

However, despite the growing popularity, there are still a good chunk of people that hate it for various reasons

But how did it come to be? Where did the ship come from? Why is it so loved by some and hated by others? Well, I’m gonna answer all those questions and even share my own opinions on the ship!

But first a disclaimer!

This analysis is ONLY meant to describe why people like Kendratello or why they don’t like it! Any canon info I bring up will be provided in full context alongside descriptions of how Kendratello shippers may interprete said canon info in order to gain a better understanding of their perspective

Everything I say about the ship is mainly from what I know from the Kendratello content on Tumblr as I don't really use any other social media

I'll also mostly be focused on Kendra because most of the arguments against Kendratello has to do with her

This is NOT meant to be something to persuade or dissuade you from shipping Kendratello!

So let’s get started!

In order to begin, let’s introduce the lovely characters involved in this ship with a brief description

Donatello, also known as Donnie, is a softshell turtle and one of the middle children alongside his twin, Leo

Much like his other versions, Donnie works with tech, but what makes him more unique is that he displays a more mad-scientist-like attitude and has a huge theater kid persona

Kendra is one of the antagonists introduced during the first season. She’s the leader of a computer tech group called The Purple Dragons and specializes in working with computer software, hacking, and modifying

She and her group are basically trouble makers causing various kinds of chaos, to describe them incredibly briefly

So how do they meet?

Donnie and Kendra meet in the episode The Purple Jacket when Donnie sneaks into April’s school to help her with a project. It was there he first noticed the tech club. Well, not really the club, but more the jacket. He then immediately tries to join the club just to get his hands on said jacket by showing off his tech.

Kendra, seemingly impressed, allows Donnie to join and gives him Jason’s jacket. However, it’s revealed that the only reason why she let Donnie join was so she and her group could steal his tech in order to use them to rob various tech stores in order to then steal a code from some very important computer company. Of course Donnie and April stop them and get them arrested. The end

So that’s basically the beginning, now let's go over why someone wouldn't ship it

First thing to get it out of the way, you were ask why someone didn't ship Kendratello, then most of the time, they would say that it’s because of Kendra, so let’s talk about that!

Kendra is a bully. She uses others for her own benefit and causes mischief for her own entertainment, which can range from annoying yet harmless pranks to her getting people hurt

After she stole Donnie’s stuff and he got her arrested, Kendra retaliated by making Donnie think he’s just playing a normal video game when in reality, he’s controlling a giant robot that almost smashed his brothers, and then tries to do so herself when that fails for the sake of seeing Donnie’s reaction

She also convinced Shelldon (Donnie’s robotic companion who was feeling low when they encountered due to an argument he and Donnie had) into participating a deadly race known for causing many drones to get dismantled just to win her the Shadow Transmitter and then yelled at him and ditched him when he failed

And these are only things she did to Donnie. She also yells at and gets physically violent with Jason, and while she does see Jeremy more as an equal, she still snaps at him and shoves him around

She's sadistic, she's cruel. There’s a 50-50 chance that either she’s aware of how bad she is and doesn't care or sees nothing wrong with anything that she does. And judging by how done April seems towards her, and the way Jeremy barely reacts to anything she does, I’m gonna assume that Kendra’s been like this for a while

And yeah, she’s an antagonist, so no shit she’s awful

However, if we wanna play the Canon game, then canonically, Donnie altered his brothers’ minds to make them smarter, he gave Leo a shock collar as a present to “correct” his behavior, he chained up Sheldon as punishment for giving him attitude, and he almost destroyed a town just to prove he’s right

The only difference between the two is that

Donnie did feel remorse for all of them and tried to fix it to the best of his ability. Kendra on the other hand doesn't really show all that much remorse for what she does and has full intentions of doing it again if she ever gets the opportunity (and she has, multiple times)

I am purposefully leaving what Donnie did out somewhat of context just to make him look as bad as Kendra (specifically their intentions behind their actions)

(And just to get it out of the way, Jeremy and Jason are both just as bad as Kendra. Even though Kendra, for the most part, treats them like trash as well, they still willingly go along with what she wants)

However, there are others who don’t ship it because Kendra reminds them of someone in real life and it makes them uncomfortable

Now, I just wanna say that if you feel uncomfortable with Kendratello due to this, I completely understand

I also want to say that even if you don’t know anyone that Kendra makes you think of, it’s still okay to be uncomfortable with the ship. You do not need a reason why to not like a ship, and if anyone has a problem with that, that’s on them

So with that in mind, it’s completely understandable why anyone would dislike the ship. Based on the evidence, they would be an extremely toxic relationship. You’d have to be absolutely INSANE to even think this is a good ship, right?

Well… Here’s the thing

Like most ships in existence, you gotta have the art of interpretation and shutting off the canon brain, especially when it comes to Kendra

Sure, there are still some things that makes Kendra, Kendra, like her working with tech, her being super smart, her going by a purple theme, and sometimes she’s still a menace (depending on the story)

And the other thing you need to know is that Kendra, just like all the other non-important villains in Rise, is pretty much a one-dimensional character. Her character is literally just a bully who’s the leader of a tech club that's constantly after devices that can hack any computer. Other than a few things, we barely know that much about Kendra, so there’s room for people to add their own personal headcanons and stuff

And it's not like Kendra is going to be evil 24/7, which gives people a change to give Kendra more traits to be more than just that as well exploring the potential reasons she is the way she is

Basically what happens 90% of the time is that most of Kendra’s negative traits are turned into positive ones. For example, take the fact that she's manipulative, arrogant, insensitive, bossy, and aloof, and turn them into charismatic, confident, honest, assertive, and reserved. These are all words that have different associations, but they basically mean the same thing

And Kendra is usually either

Given some kind of tragic backstory (usually revolving around her parents getting a divorce)

Given a redemption arc

Given more likable traits

Most of or all of the above

There’s also a good chance that the Kendratello story someone is sharing either takes place after the series or it takes place in an AU, so of course the characters are going to be a little/very different. Although sometimes you'll find stories that take place before or during the series. Many people have their own ideas on how Kendratello would go. Though usually what I talked about above is often the formula used. You just gotta find the right story, or make your own story of how you think Donnie and Kendra would fall in love and eventually get together!

And keeping with the themes Rise has of being lighthearted, it’s pretty fun and hilarious to imagine those two bickering one minute and then making out the next. It’s pretty easy to see a bit of a slow-burn enemies to lovers where Kendra and Donnie both slowly realize that oh no, they’re totally into each other, but won’t say anything because of their pride and all that. So there’s the drama, the tension, the idea of will they, won’t they?

Plus, come on, lots of us love a good Enemies To Lovers story with some Slow Burn on the side

And imagine those two going on a date by committing various crimes and half the city is destroyed because of them and then they watch the news talking about what they did while cuddling and holding their new pet cat that they randomly got at some point

Overall, most of the time the story is about two messed up individuals who end up finding peace with each other. They feel like they're the only ones that can understand each other, and they hate it, but at the same time, they don't mind

However, that’s just one side of the ship

I said it in another post I made, but if we look at the ship through another viewpoint, the side that leans more towards the toxic side of the ship, then Kendra is the embodiment of Donnie’s deepest fears and insecurities

The biggest thing people tend to overlook about Donnie is that he cares very much about being useful to the people he loves. It’s why he behaved the way he did in Witch Town, because he’s terrified that if magic can do what he does but better, then no one will need him anymore

Meanwhile Kendra is someone who will very much jump at a chance to take advantage of anything that will benefit her, especially if it has anything to do with Donnie

Donnie is the provider, and Kendra is the exploiter

Those two are perfect for each other in the worst way possible and horrible for each other in the best way possible

And I will mention too that are things that happen in canon that people interpret to be Kendratello moments, or they say could be used as evidence for Kendratello

Kendra blowing a kiss to Donnie (The Purple Jacket: She does this before attempting to leave Donnie to deal with his tech turning against him (which she hacked) to go rob the world bank)

Donnie saying that “Cute but mean” is his type (War and Pizza: He says this while getting stomped on by a tomato animatronic, saying, “Oh you’re so cute, but so mean! Why do I always go for your type?!” before proceeding to electrocute it)

Donnie and Kendra flirt whenever they interact (purely interpretation)

Donnie wanting to join the Purple Dragons because he has a crush on Kendra (also purely interpretation)

Now my thoughts on the actual ship? Eh, it’s complex

I see them as a Doomed to Fail type. They would most likely end up in some kind of a codependent relationship because of their biggest flaws, and I can see the official break up being extremely messy on both sides (since I 100% see them taking several “breaks”). Then after a couple years, things are back to normal, with Donnie and Kendra being rivals, only this time they have a respect for each other and they even help each other out if the other person needs it. And even though they still have some feelings for each other, they choose to remain as exes because they don’t want to risk falling back into old habits

On the other hand, I’m frankly tired of the whole, “Bad Person’s Not Actually Bad, They’re Just Misunderstood And Need Someone Who Understands Them” thing

And before anyone tries telling me about Kendra dealing with her parents having a divorce

We don’t know what exactly happened during the divorce between her parents. There’s no cookie cutter reaction to how a teenager would react to their parents having a divorce no matter how well or badly it's handled

The only time Kendra ever brought up the implications that her parents are divorced was when Jason failed to get the Shadow Transmitter. She told him that she wished her father never married his mother, which implies the only reason why Jason is part of the Purple Dragons is because he’s her step-brother. So basically she’s telling him that if she could kick him out then she would

Now, I’m not saying Kendra’s dad and stepmom are the perfect parents, because clearly they’re not with what I’ve mentioned so far, but still

And don't get me wrong, I'm on team Purple Dragons Get A Redemption Arc, I just see it happening more in a way where they become anti-heroes because they got bored of going after the same goal over and over again

Alright, those are all of my opinions

So, overall, do you have to ship Kendratello? No

Is it one of the more complex ships? Oh yeah

Did me rewatching every single scene Kendra is in over and over again in order to describe how she is in canon make it really hard to make this whole thing without being biased? Most definitely

But really, the reason why people ship Kendratello? It’s just for fun!

I know some people in every fandom tend to take shipping and their head canons way too seriously for some reason, but here? It’s genuinely just for fun

That’s all I have to say, but hopefully you now know more about it! Again, if you don’t ship it cause it makes you uncomfortable, that’s okay! But it doesn't give you an excuse to harass those that do. If it bothers you so bad, then the block button is right there. People have their own ideas of how the ship would go and their own reasons why they like it

If you got any questions or something to say, don’t hesitate to send them my way. I can’t guarantee that I’ll get to all of them, but I’ll do my best!

[love-bugsy]

meet cut(e) | jason todd

the worst thing about love

you’re just trying to get through your surgical residency, but this masked vigilante keeps showing up half-dead on your fire escape and reminding you of your dead best friend. oh well, at least he's cute.

one | two | three | series masterlist

tw: allusions to character death, depictions of grief, mentions of blood and injuries, swearing, completely ooc Jason but he’s like my own lil character now and I’m protective, i learned my medical terminology from grey's anatomy don't hate me

only jerks steal other people's writing (just don't repost, mate)

You’re awake when he stumbles into your apartment two weeks later. You stare at him owlishly; knees tucked up against your plush, non-indented couch, glass of Merlot in your hand kept carefully away from the carpet you just scrubbed the bloodstains out of. You set it gingerly on your coffee table, half convinced he’s not real.

“I got… a cut.” It seems strange for this masked vigilante - you may or may not have been doing some tipsy research on the hooded hero - to look so sheepish. All six feet of him stooped in your cramped apartment, one hand clutched to his side, that emotionless mask staring straight through you. You get up from your couch wordlessly, walking down the hallway to rummage through your bathroom. 

First aid kit and isopropyl in hand, you return to his awkward stance in the middle of your living room; his gaze intently focused on your overstuffed bookshelf. His attention snaps to you when your sock-clad footsteps meet the edge of the plush rug separating you. From this angle, you can see the stubborn, brown bloodstain that you tried to hide under the leg of your armchair - little marks… stains or rusting memories… You gesture to your couch, and he sits, taking off his jacket.

Yanking a stool over to sit in front of him, you pull up his shirt, brows furrowing at the slice in his side. He’s undressed the cut you stitched up for him before he should have, and you examine it while you clean his most recent knife wound. Your stitches are far from perfect - the scar bulging in some areas - but for such a high tension wound, it’s healed well.

Your eyes flicker up to his blood red mask for a moment, and it occurs to you - distantly - that you should probably be terrified. I mean, seriously. A part of you screams that this is how people get murdered. Another part of you thinks that this is the most vulnerable he ever gets; his shirt off, gritting his teeth through the pain of 91% isopropyl alcohol. 

Another - buried - part of you thinks this seems familiar.

Your gaze darts back down to his chest, lingering unconsciously on the end of the scar that cuts out from underneath his shirt. Your eyes catch on the ugly bruises decorating the tan expanse of his torso, some angry and purple, others a sickly yellow. He clears his throat awkwardly and your cheeks heat, returning your attention to sterilising his wound. Real classy, birdie, ogling a guy whose face you’ve never seen. He breaks the thick silence first, low voice crackling through his modulator.

“How’s it look, doc? ‘m I gonna survive?” You hide a smile beneath your exasperated look, brows knitted. Still, you can’t fully conceal the amused edge in your dry tone.

“You’re not nearly as charming when you’ve been stabbed.” He cocks his mask; unreadable. For a long moment, you think you might have actually offended him, until he huffs out a staticky laugh.

“Slashed, actually.” You scrunch your nose. Pedantic asshole. 

“Look, I’ve had a long day, which wasn’t exactly made better by having to patch up a freak in a super-suit, so just… save the witty ironicism for someone who didn’t have to clean up baby vomit all day.” You can hear the smile in his voice when he responds, mask’s gaze still fixed on your face.

“Ouch, doc, and here I thought you were happy to see me.” A little pause as you meet his gaze briefly, unable to shake the familiarity… the instinctive fondness that warms your chest. His next words seem more guarded. “So, why’re you helping me then?”  Good question. Your focus never falters from the slow concentric circles you’re rubbing around his wound with an alcohol soaked hand towel. 

“I took an oath.” He laughs again and you quash the little spark of pride that hearing it gives you. You swap the towel in your hand for a roll of bandages and a plaster, applying the latter first before starting to wrap his waist.

“My bad, doc, I thought you were helping me out of the goodness of your heart.”

You scrunch your nose, trying to suppress the smile that tugs insistently at your mouth. Reaching for a clip, you secure his bandages and help him pull his shirt down so it doesn’t catch. You get up from the stool, shuffling it out of the way for your future self to move back in front of your kitchen island. Yawning, you stretch your hands above your head, a little noise of relief leaving your mouth when the tension in your shoulders loosens. You pretend not to notice how his mask tilts, lingering on the sliver of skin exposed as your shirt lifts.

He settles backwards, leaning his shoulders over the arm of your couch so that his legs don’t dangle over the edge. You watch as he yanks your throw blanket haphazardly over his torso and crosses his arms over his chest. You’re sure he must be keeping you in his peripheral as you startle out of eyeing him warily, but he doesn’t acknowledge any of it. Maybe to save you some dignity. Padding back to the hallway, you make it halfway before pausing, words spilling from your mouth unbidden.

“You can have some coffee, you know.”

“What?” The question comes out slurred, a full night’s worth of adrenaline finally dwindling. It brings back a flash of a near empty coffee pot - last dregs dripping slowly into a blue mug held in lethargic hands. You blink.

“In the morning.” He tilts his mask, and you stumble to elaborate, “When you sneak out. You can have some coffee.” Cautious, you study his reaction, but your vigilante doesn’t move an inch - his mask’s white slits boring holes into you like he’s trying to figure you out. Or waiting for a catch. You think he might trust you more if you give him one.

“You have to wash the mug, though. And the coffee’s old.” If you focus hard enough, you can hear something percolating - the coffee in your makeshift warmer or… the tenuous thread of something like dependency. He shifts on the couch and you suppress a wince at the stress it will put on his injuries.

“I like old coffee,” he hums out blurrily, hushed static of his modulator nearly rendering the words unintelligible. You flinch, turning off the living room light instead of responding.

You’re seventeen, he’s sixteen. You give him shit for being two months younger than you. It’s so late at night you’ll start to call it morning soon, and the two of you sit on opposite sides of a diner counter.

You lean over the counter, arms outstretched, dropping your head into your clasped hands. He reaches over you, pouring out another cup of old, lukewarm coffee. He follows it up with an unholy amount of cream and sugar - just how you like it - nudging it over to you with that wry grin of his.

“Tired, birdie?” You are tired, but not as tired as he is. You think maybe Wayne Enterprises should be funding his college tuition, not this superhero shit. Superhero shit that he never talks about, except. He used to tell you everything. You used to tell him everything.

Because he’s smart. He’s really smart. Smart enough to not risk his life every night. You want to tell him that but you know he doesn’t see it that way. In that mask, he’s infallible. Instead, you hum in agreement, dragging the mug closer and taking a sip. You scowl at the bitterness.

He frowns petulantly, looking at you with tired, amused eyes. “You don’t like my coffee?” You set down your cup, wrinkling your nose at the unexpectedly loud ‘clink’ it makes against the counter.

“You’re so dramatic, blue, only you like day-old coffee.” He gives you a dry look, one that says he’s too tired to mock-argue with you. So instead, you turn on the sink behind the counter, rinsing cutlery to load the dishwasher. You both sit in near silence, broken only by his fingers tapping carefully on the counter and your absent-minded hums. 

~

You spend days agonising over a present as his birthday rapidly approaches, though you know he hates the fuss. You settle on a gunmetal grey lighter, shakily hand engraved with a bluejay. Something to replace his shitty BIC one, with its smudged sharpie lettering that barely spells out ‘JT’. 

Secretly, you look forward to the sardonic comment he'll make about how he thought you disapproved of his cancer sticks. The truth is, you don't think you could stop enabling him.

~

A month out from his birthday, he drops by after patrol with your copy of Wuthering Heights. You ask if he liked it and he says he didn’t. Something, something, overly maudlin. He’s lying. He always gets that little specific crease between his eyebrows when he lies to you.

It feels like all you see lately.

Are the nightmares getting worse?

Lie.

Stayin’ out of trouble?

Lie.

Are we always going to be like this? Am I always going to lose you when you put on that suit?

Lie.

Over and over until you snap, poking a finger straight into the crease and smoothing it out. You tell him you want the truth and he tells you he can’t give it to you. You yell at him for ten hour-long minutes, sweeping angry gestures with your arms. One of them knocks over his half-full mug - blue shards shattering in the slow spill of murky coffee. You wish you remembered what he said to you, but all you remember is watching him leave. The last time he ever did.

You wait two weeks for him to come back, recording apologetic voicemails that he dodges with clipped, sullen phone calls. Then, he stops picking up at all.

His death isn’t reported on the news.

Alfred visits you once after he dies, carrying Jason’s old leather jacket like a sleeping animal that might come alive at any second. You don’t talk - not even when he hands it to you - you don’t know what you would say. You don’t know each other, you have nothing in common, except that you loved the same person once.

Your life shrinks - going through the same mechanical motions for months on end, school, work, home. It feels blasphemous to do anything but stare at the jacket - to lift it from where it hangs on the back of your door, to make it yours instead of his - until, one day, you can’t bear to be distant from him anymore. You put it on, shove your hands in the pockets like he always did, digging around. You find an old hairtie of yours in the inside pocket and a stick of apple pie flavoured lip balm you lent him last winter. 

His lighter is in the front pocket, blue as his pale, dark eyes. Carefully, you place it on your desk, next to the one you meant to gift him. 

Two lighters and you don’t even fucking smoke.

oof okay, this one was a bit of a monster (don't know if it bodes well for this series for me to have struggled with this chapter so much lol) but i hope you guys like it. :) i might have to take a little break over the next month because of my final exams, but rest assured, doc and jay will be back again come november. tysm for reading!

with love, bugsy

[booboodaddysblog]

The Beauty

Warnings: smut, love talking, overthinking, little curses

Detective Drew Foster's character based on a comic book series by Jeremy Haun and Jason A. Hurley.

Words: 2254

It was one o'clock in the morning. Drew sighed heavily, loosened his tie. He put the gun down on the nightstand. He looked at the upturned figure of his wife. Janna suddenly turned in his direction.

- Oh... you're awake. I thought, I wouldn't wake you up. Shit. Sorry, babe - he took off his jacket and put it on a chair.

- You weren't kidding when you said you'd be back late. But, no, I was awake. I was waiting for you. You know I can't sleep without you - she held out her hand to him - I missed you, come to me - she smiled sweetly.

Drew smiled and shrugged his shoulders, rubbing his neck.

- Yeah, well... work had other plans today. But I'm already here, by your side - his eyes darkened as he inched closer to her and his lips brushed her ear - hmm… how about we skip the chat and get straight to something more fun?

- Oh, aren't you tired? - Janna asked, sliding her finger along the buttons of his shirt.

Drew giggled quietly, drawing circles with his fingers on her bare skin.

- Tired? Maybe a little. But darling, you light up my whole world. Your touch, your smell... it lights up every cell in my body. This dance… I will never get tired of. So let's dance the tango until dawn, my love. Who needs sleep when we have each other?

- Maybe first let's talk about how your day went? Was it really that bad? I didn't see any news on TV about this new case - she said still stroking his chest.

He furrowed his brow, stepping back slightly.

- It's complicated... There's a lot going on. But I promise you that I will deal with it. I won't let this matter get out of hand. Everything will be fine. So why don't we leave my work behind for now? Today is about us, okay? Let's focus on ourselves instead - he seemed slightly annoyed.

- Baby, but of course I believe that you can handle this case. You are the best, and so are your people in the department.

He smiled and leaned over to kiss her gently.

- Thank you, my love. It means a lot to me. And now let's forget about everything else. Just you and me... naked. No past, no future... just now.

- Ohhh… you’re so stubborn - she laughed a little - so what do you have for me tonight? - she bites her lower lip.

Drew smiled, reaching out to gently lift her chin.

- Hmm... how about I show you instead of telling you? After all, actions speak louder than words. So close your eyes and get ready for a wild ride, baby.

Janna silently nodded her head. She closed her eyes and waited for his next move. She felt his slender fingers move across her chest and slowly strip her of her silk nightgown. He leaned over her and whispered quietly in her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

- Trust me, my love. I won't let you fall asleep.

- I trust you 100% and I am all yours.

He murmured. Her words fueled his desire.

- Good girl. You are mine now. Every inch of you belongs to me.

- I can't wait - her eyes sparkled with excitement.

He fell passionately into her mouth, his hands firmly grasped her waist.

- All right, if that's what you want. Hold on tight!

Suddenly he lifted her off the bed and she felt herself standing on the floor. Drew began to turn her in a slow dance. Her laughter filled the whole room.

- You're crazy! - Janna couldn't stop laughing.

He laughed feeling her laughter vibrate in his chest.

- That's music to my ears, my love. But I haven't yet shown how crazy I am about you.

- Show me!

With a devilish grin, he jumped on the bed, pulling her with him.

- Hold on tight, baby!

As soon as they were on the bed again, he grabbed her around the waist and turned her around so that she was under him.

- Now, where were we? - he asked, and his eyes lit up with desire - Oh yes, it was time for something pleasant!

Drew looked deeply into her eyes, and the intensity of his gaze made her breathless. He slowly leaned in, gently brushing his lips against hers.

- So beautiful... - he whispered softly.

His hands moved over her body, caressing every curve with tender precision. Passion between them flared like wildfire, consuming everything in its path.

As Drew's fingers danced on her skin, she felt her body tremble under his touch. He quickly sensed what his beloved wanted. He positioned himself between her legs. With a gentle thrust, he slid into her, both of them moaning under the strong sensation. Their hips began to sway in perfect harmony, creating a rhythm that spoke louder than words.

Each movement sent waves of pleasure that pushed them closer and closer toward the edge. Desperately cuddling against each other, they rushed through the storm together, lost in a torrent of passion. Under the influence of the moment, Drew once again sank into her parted lips, swallowing her cries of ecstasy as she neared her peak.

As he continued his movements inside her hot interior, he felt her body tighten around him. He moaned loudly, realizing it wouldn't last long. He accelerated his movements, thrusting deeper into her with each thrust. Her breathing became erratic, her back arched. He thrust hard one last time, causing both of them to explode.

Their bodies trembled violently, caught in the grip of intense pleasure. They collapsed on the bed, panting heavily. Drew drew her close, holding her securely in his arms.

- I'll always be here for you, sweetheart - he whispered quietly, hugging her tenderly - no matter what may happen... always... I'll always be here.

- I love you, Detective Foster - her breathing was still uneven. She cuddled into him tightly.

Drew smiled, tenderly looking into her eyes.

- And I love you too, Mrs. Foster - he gently stroked her hair - no matter what challenges we face, our love will get us through them - he pulled her even closer to him, wrapping his arms protectively around her - rest now, darling.

He watched her eyes slowly close. She seemed even more tired than he was. He gently slipped out of her embrace, careful not to disturb her peaceful state. Covering her with the quilt, Drew placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

- I'll be here when you wake up, I promise - he whispered.

Janna drifted off to dreamland, and Drew sat beside her, reflecting on the day's discoveries and devising the next steps of his work. In the quiet darkness, he wondered how the whole affair would affect his personal life. His wife was the most important thing to him, and this virus named Beauty could stand in the way of their happiness. He hid his face in his hands.

A heavy burden rested on his shoulders, but he knows that facing these challenges is the only way forward. With determination etched on his face, Drew Foster prepared to delve into the mystery surrounding the Beauty virus. But what he didn't realize was that their journey would be fraught with danger and unexpected twists and turns.

He glanced at the clock, realizing that there was little time left until dawn. He decided to take a quick shower and get at least a little sleep.

————

Entering the kitchen in the morning, Drew was greeted by the familiar sight of Janna sitting at the table, surrounded by the warm glow of the morning sun. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, filling the room with its fragrance. Leaning against the door frame, he watched Janna flip through the morning newspaper. Her eyes scanned the headlines and articles with interest. He approached his wife, placing a light kiss on her cheek, then poured himself a cup of steaming coffee.

- Morning, beautiful - he greeted her warmly, joining her at the table - did you find something interesting there? - he gestured to the newspaper, curious.

- This case, beauty, is probably something serious, right? - Janna shows him the headline on the front page.

Drew nodded, putting down his coffee mug.

- It certainly looks like it, darling - he furrowed his eyebrows and reached for the newspaper while reading the headline that Janna had pointed out. The bold letters shouted about the recent developments of the Beauty virus and its potential consequences - yes, this issue... is much bigger than we expected - he confirmed with seriousness.

- How many people have already died?

Drew furrowed his brow, concentrating on the numbers mentioned in the article.

- According to this article, more than two hundred cases have been confirmed worldwide, with nearly fifty deaths linked to the Beauty virus - he didn't realize it was spreading so fast. He sighed out loud at the sight of these staggering statistics.

He understood that they were dealing with a global health crisis that needed immediate attention.

- It is crucial that we work quickly to stop this threat - he declares firmly, with determination drawing on his face - we will find the answers, darling.

- It's terrible. It's beyond comprehension. I can't imagine it could get us - Janna shook her head in disbelief - what would you have for breakfast? - she asked, getting up with a smile to pour more coffee for her husband.

- It's good that you are trying to change the subject, but it's not so easy - he got up from the table to join her - I will eat everything you prepare for me - he embraced Janna from behind. He gently rested his chin on her shoulder. He closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment of solace amidst the chaos.

He relaxed too much as he drew Janna close to him and gently began to caress her neck.

- Why don't we give up this breakfast? Let's relax, shall we? - he whispered tenderly, his warm breath tickling her skin.

Janna turned in his embrace. Her eyes focused on his, reflecting the concern she saw in his gaze. She placed a reassuring hand on his chest and felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath it.

- Let's have breakfast, baby - she smiled sweetly at him, placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

Drew rolled his eyes and released Janna from his grasp.

- You are absolutely right - he said with a sigh.

Together they began preparing breakfast, a simple but hearty meal that would nourish both body and soul. As they worked side by side, their movements synchronized, and each step strengthened the bond that kept them together for better or worse. Their conversations moved from heavy matters of life and death to lighter topics, shared memories, dreams for the future, and even humorous banter.

Their laughter echoed throughout the kitchen. Drew couldn't help but feel grateful to have Janna by his side, this beacon of hope in an increasingly uncertain world.

They put the plates with breakfast on the table and began to eat.

- What are your plans at work today? Will you continue to look for the source of this disease? How exactly does it spread? - Janna asked curiously.

Drew savored another bite of his breakfast before answering his wife's questions.

- I'll go back to the office - he began, wiping his mouth with a napkin - we are working tirelessly to determine the origin of this virus and understand how it spreads - he fell silent for a moment, thoughtfully reaching for his coffee mug - from the information we've gathered so far, Beauty appears to be transmitted mainly through sexual contact... although there may be more to it than may appear at first glance - Drew shrugs his shoulders, realizing the complexity of their investigation.

- I understand. Please be careful whatever you do. You know, I’m always worried about you - Janna grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly.

Drew looked into Janna's concerned eyes, and his own reflected a mixture of gratitude and determination.

- Don't worry about me, dear - he reassured her, also gently squeezing her hand - I am well prepared. Besides, who would want to mess with this charming detective? - he laughed.

His words brought a small laugh to her lips, temporarily improving her mood. She knew how good a detective Drew was.

- I love you so much, Drew - she got up from the table and walked over to him. She sat on his lap, kissed him gently on the lips and hugged him tightly - I don't know what I would do without you.

Drew pulled Janna closer, returning her kiss with fervor. His hands moved down her back, gripping her firmly at the waist.

- And I love you - he muttered into her mouth.

They closed their eyes, their breaths mingled in a promise of undying devotion. Their hearts beat in unison. Two souls entwined by fate and bound by love.

Drew felt an overwhelming peace. In that magical moment, surrounded by her warmth and affection, he found himself with the strength to face whatever was coming.

@ladyjpm

[swift-creates]

category: Gen

fandom: DC Batfamily

characters and relationships: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, unnamed evil sorcerer, very minor batfam

warnings: swearing, mention of that time Jason climbed out of his own grave, some gun use

Summary:

@ailesswhumptober Day 9: Hypothermia, heatstroke, “You look pretty pale.” 

Day 26: Electrocution, burning, “This is going to sting.” 

Being a vampire is great. Unless you’re stranded in the middle of the desert.

notes: anyone want more vampire Jason?

Jason grunted as gravity shifted sideways, and he was thrown into the wall of the mad sorcerer’s sanctum. “You trespassed into the wrong domicile, Bat Family,” the magician cackled as Dick flew over Jason’s head and into a bookshelf. “You’re about to see just how powerful I am.” 

“I’ve had enough of this guy,” Dick grumbled, brushing tattered pages off his shoulder. Jason couldn’t help but agree. 

He fired his grappling hook and swung across the almost-vertical hallway to retrieve his pistol from where it was precariously perched on a doorknob. “You’re about to get a faceful of .45 bullets, asshole.” Bracing his feet against the ceiling, he shot at the magician, but he levitated a table to protect himself and telekinetically smacked Jason away with a flick of his hand. He tumbled down the hall, catching glimpses of the others twisting in the air as they fell beside him. 

“Ah, Red Hood. You should not have done that.” He saw the door at the end of the hall open, daylight streaming through and making Jason squeeze his eyes shut. “Get ready, little Bats.

“This is going to sting.”

Then he hit the ground, and everything started to burn. 

His skin was on fire, claws of sunlight digging down through tendons and muscle to rip him apart. The grains of sand on his palms were knives slicing at his charred flesh. He couldn’t breathe. He was fifteen again, choking on soil, climbing out of a grave- No. He was nineteen, and Bruce was calling his name. 

He didn’t even know he was screaming until Dick was crouching over him and cupping Jason’s face in his hands. “Jay! Shhh, shh, I’m here. Just look at me, Little Wing.” Beside him, Bruce spread out his cape, blocking out the blazing light with its shadow. 

“Dick,” he gasped. 

“Yeah?”

“No… That magician- He’s a dick.”

Dick barked a sharp laugh and shook his head. “Yeah, he’ll be fine.”

It took some doing, but Jason fought off the urge to curl up and burrow into his brother’s arms. Now that he was no longer at risk of burning to death and crumbling into ashes, he could peek around the hem of Bruce’s cape and see that they were standing near the top of a sand dune, and on the other side was an endless series of other dunes, not a single tree or oasis in sight. 

“Stuck in the middle of the fucking desert. Just brilliant. How do you suggest we get out of his one, Dickiebird?” He forced his voice to steady and arranged his features into a scowl. 

“We could start by walking,” Tim shot back, ever the know-it-all, then shrugged when Jason gave him a deadpan look. 

“I don’t know. Are you sure you’re okay, little Wing? You look pretty pale.”

“I’m a fucking vampire, Dickie. You might as well say your puppy eyes are blue.”

Dick frowned in that concerned older brother way. “Jay-”

“He’s got a point, Dick.” Tim shrugged.

Bruce produced Jason’s helmet from somewhere, and he slipped it on, instantly grateful for its protection. “We’re not getting anywhere by arguing. Let’s go.”

So they walked. And Jason tried not to feel too homicidal inside his increasingly stuffy helmet and jacket.

[asexual-juliet]

saw the outsiders night of 10/12/24 & here are my thoughts!!

josh strobl on for pony, andre on for steve, ryo on for brill, henry on for chet

before the show my friend and i were waiting in line outside the theater and daryl peeked his head out the window above us and waved to the crowd but very few people noticed and then jason peeked his head out and we were the first people who saw him and we waved and then he waved back at us specifically!!!

josh strobl & his beautiful little broadway voice - his voice is so different from brody’s and trevor’s and it was so cool to hear the songs delivered in kind of a different way!!

josh strobl is so short omfg every conversation pony had with darry was like. yes obviously that’s a big brother and his little brother one of them is literally a head taller than the other. 

him being so short was also very good for the fourteen-year-old vibe!! i always talk about trevor being so fourteen in his portrayal of ponyboy and josh was also fantastic in that regard!

melody & ryo were Thee cutest couple in the world in the background of tulsa ‘67 and the drive-in omgggg

moment where johnny cleans up pony’s face with his little rag in early act i is always a win for me personally

DARYL TOFA THE MAN THAT YOU ARE <3 literally the main reason i decided to see the show again was because i didn’t see daryl or sky last time and they did not fucking disappoint!!!

some very soft soda pony moments on the car before great expectations - there was a moment where soda put his arm over pony’s shoulder and said “signing off now, okay?” in the softest voice i think i audibly went “aww” <3 <3 <3

emma cherry josh pony height difference save me. holy shit. played in so well to the sixteen year old girl/little fourteen year old boy dynamic and like. ugh something about him looking up to her is so precious to me

two-bit calling bob “robert” will always be famous, as will “eat shit, marcia!” lmfao

ponyboy’s “out. in the world.” is so fucking funny he’s such a little shit

lighting and sound for when darry hit ponyboy my beloved

josh spit on kwp so bad during the fountain scene that some of it ricocheted off back onto his own face lmfaooo

there is a moment during run run brother where pony and johnny are running across the stage and they pause at center with like their hands on each other’s shoulders and make beautiful eye contact before they keep running <3 <3 <3

moment during justice for tulsa where cherry is sitting on the tire with bob’s varsity jacket on her shoulders and from behind her marcia very gently gathers her hair and puts it over her shoulder and then she has her hand on cherry’s shoulder for a little bit <3

emma opt up on “out looking for a fight” you will always be famous

cherry holding her hand out for marcia in jft got me holy shit

two-bit getting jumped in jft fuckin hits different when ryo is playing a soc holy shit it is so narratively fascinating for one of the only two asian characters in the show to be beating the shit out of the other one. please god someone talk to me about this in a ryo paul context

sky-josh moment after death’s at my door was PERFECT- sky held out his hand for the knife and held josh’s hand when he handed it over and then put his other hand very gently on josh’s shoulder until the lights went down

sky’s “you like her :)” about cherry was fucking precious

ponyboy watching darry on the final “ponyboy this house ain’t a home without you” …holy fucking shit

there is a moment during hoods turned heroes i think where darry picks ace up and it is very cute <3 she is also on his shoulders at one point which is adorable

when two-bit hands darry the newspaper in hoods turned heroes he starts smiling for thee rest of the song because he is so proud of his baby brother 💕💕💕

there is also a little bit in hoods turned heroes where darry very playfully hits soda with the newspaper it is very cute <3

i completely forgot that emma pittman belts hopeless war kneeling on the floor?? holy fuck

paul and darry first ones who enter before the rumble both in white t shirts that’s what i call a visual parallel baby!!!!

when darry said “once a grease always a grease” soda went “yaaayy!” it made me laugh out loud. overall jason was very silly tonight it was very charming <3

soda hugging pony from behind during little brother holy fuck. josh is like on the ground after johnny dies and jason comes up behind him and just holds him <3 <3 <3 im so ill about them

josh did the “does anybody care?” in little brother very similarly to how daryl does it and i do not remember him doing that the first time i saw it!

with where he was sitting on the set josh looked like a little kid on the playground during dally’s death it was fucking heartbreaking

had a borderline religious experience watching sky sing stay gold live. i have known a love that many never know btw. if u even care. 

soda’s little “ok” after ponyboy says “there’s a lot more inside me than just grease” was so fucking cute

andre, jason, josh, ryo, melody, kwp, tilly, emma & henry came out to stagedoor after the show!!

just wanna say. jason schmidt girlies i get it. he was looking at me with those big blue eyes and i was catapulted back into the days when i thought i liked boys holy fuck

genuinely think josh strobl was like three inches taller than me and i an very short lmfao

ryo was SO sweet and like went to sign the drawing i gave him before i was like “it’s for you!” and he was very excited when he saw the note i wrote on the back!! he was also very excited and remembered me when i said i was the one who posted the drawing for his paul debut!! i think he forgot to sign my playbill because he was so distracted by the art lmfaoo <3 did not get a photo with him for similar reasons lol but he was so wonderful!!

emma pittman sweetest woman alive holy shit!! when i handed her my drawing of the soc girls she just went “i love women” lmfao

henry also remembered me when i awkwardly reintroduced myself as the one who gave him the drawing in july and he was like “yes it’s my favorite i have it on display in my dressing room!” and when i was like “i know i see it in your instagram stories but this one is better” he was like “i love the old one too” and when i explained that him being so nice about my art in july was what made me do the whole new set of drawings he gave me a hug <3 henry juliàn gendron u will ALWAYS be famous to me!!!

[lambsouvlaki]

For the Hell of It - Burning (*)

Characters: Jason Todd x fem!oc

Rating and warnings: NSFW, explicit oral sex (female receiving).

Word count: 1,920

Summary: Two years into being just very good friends, she kissed him. He kissed her back.

Masterlist

They pulled up in the parking garage below Jason’s apartment on his new motorbike. She sighed happily. 

He had taken her on a day trip to Metropolis, really just as an excuse to ride around without getting rained on. They did the normal tourist things: ate hot dogs in the park, went up to the lookout on one of the classic skyscrapers, watched superman fight a giant robot above the city, heckled him, and then apologised when he flew over to complain that if they were going to judge his punches like a gymnast’s routine, at least make the scoring consistent. 

Jason docked him a point for whinging. 

Superman was a good sport about it. He even recommended a nice local restaurant for them, since they were visiting. 

After an early dinner, and the restaurant really was very good, they took the scenic, sun-soaked route on the drive home along the coast. 

Jason switched off the bike. Behind him she stretched her arms up with a groan. 

He squeezed her thigh. “You getting off, or do we live here now?”

She swung her leg around and hopped off. After curling around him for the hour-long drive home in the blasting wind (Jason was unfamiliar with speed limits) she felt like she’d been contoured around him. She shook her limbs out and took off her helmet. 

He sat sideways on the bike to remove his helmet and gloves. He patted the body of the bike affectionately. 

“I like this one better,” she said. 

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“The exhaust is further from my leg, and the angle of the backseat is more comfortable. Is it smoother at high speeds or am I just imagining that?” 

“No, that’s on purpose.” He looked pleased with himself. “I didn’t think you’d catch that.”

She rolled her neck, feeling out the stiffness. Her messy helmet hair flopped about her head, the weight of her curls catching on a misaligned pin somewhere. She moved her head and felt it flop back the other way. 

Jason chuckled. “Come here.” 

She stepped up to him and presented her head. Gently, with a rare glove-less hand, he unhooked the rogue curl from the pin it had gotten stuck on. He brushed the rest of her hair back from her face, only to get some other lock caught on a pin. 

“It’s all a mess,” she said, unperturbed. There was nothing to be done about helmet hair, she had made her peace with it.   

“Hmm.” 

He stood and carded his hand gently through, his fingers dragging across her scalp, until he found the three pins at the back of her head holding it all together, and plucked them out. He plopped them in her hand then brushed the loose mass of her hair back again. 

“There. Fixed it,” he said, then moved another lock anyway. 

She gave him a sardonic smile. She knew he just liked running his hands through her hair. And he knew she knew he just liked running his hands through it. 

He smirked and brushed a curl behind her ear. 

With no forethought, she rose up on her toes and pecked him on the lips. 

He chased her lips for a chaste retaliatory kiss, like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

Then they blinked at each other. The only sound was the ticking of the bike’s cooling engine. 

He leaned forward and kissed her again, tentative. 

She opened her mouth to him, and he was no longer tentative. She made a soft, needy sound. His arms wrapped around her waist, stabilising her, and he pushed in deeper. She desperately silenced the fizzy, almost hysterical realisation that two years of trying to deny how badly she wanted him all amounted to nothing. 

Jason kissed her like he expected to be stopped at any moment. As though she was his air and each breath would surely be his last. There was no inch of her he didn’t want, and it made her knees weak. 

She pulled back with a heavy breath eventually. Her hands grasped the lapels of his jacket desperately, and his strong arms were still wrapped around her waist. They were very close, wound together in a tiny little bubble of nothing but themselves. 

“Oh,” she breathed, slightly light headed. “We said we weren’t going to do that.” 

His eyes were like a storm on the horizon, the darkening green hiding something powerful and hungry and promising. 

“What if we did it anyway?” 

She slanted her mouth against his in desperation. 

His hand slid up her back to her neck, and he angled her head as he liked. He swallowed her moan. She pressed her body against his, and he growled low in his throat. 

Need coiled tight in her abdomen.

A car pulled into the garage with a loud shriek of tires of concrete. 

It startled them both, and they pulled apart. She was breathing hard. He looked away for only a moment before all his attention fixed upon her again. It was scorching. 

The other guy got out of his car and briefly looked over. That shook them into moving, and they picked up their things and walked in silence towards the elevator. 

They had to share the carriage with the stranger, and they stood a respectable, tortuous distance apart from each other. 

Jason’s hands opened and closed into tight fists. She tossed her hair back, rearranging it with a nervous flutter in her stomach. 

They remained politely apart even after the other passenger left, and they got out at Jason’s level. He let her into his apartment the same as he had many times before, and she put her helmet and bag on the entryway table. 

Then Jason stood in front of her. He backed her up against the closed door. She could feel her heartbeat picking up. Meeting her eye, he reached behind her to lock the door. 

“Still with me?” he asked, in a low voice. 

“Please kiss me.”

A wicked grin curled at his lips before he was on her. 

Where before he had been opportunistic and desperate, now he was confident and unhurried. His body bracketed hers against the door as he drank from her lips. His large hands snaked over her figure, tracing, squeezing, caressing, and taking his sweet time exploring every little dip and swell. 

He pulled her jacket zip down, then pushed it off her shoulders and discarded it behind himself. She nipped his lips and tried to undo his jacket but he wouldn’t let her. His clever fingers worked at the buttons of her blouse. 

Her head fell back against the door as his lips trailed down her neck and across her collarbone. He trailed down further. She looked down and caught his eye just as he unlatched the front closure of her bra with his teeth.

She groaned at how fucking hot it was. 

He pulled her shirt and bra off and cast them aside too. He sank to his knees, wrapped his hands around both sides of her waist, and kissed his way down her stomach. She cradled the back of his head, running her fingers through his hair. He pulled her forward from the wall enough to slide her jeans and panties down her legs. Her cheeks were flushed and her heart felt like it beat out of time. He was in complete control, and yet so achingly tender with her. 

“I had a dream like this once,” she said. 

“Did you?” He kissed the swell of her thigh. “How did it end?”

“I woke up.” 

He took a little bite of her thigh and looked up at her. “You’re not escaping me that easy.” 

He buried his nose into the soft thatch of curls at her core, and he lifted her leg onto his shoulder. She sighed and curled over him, but he lifted a hand to her abdomen and pushed her back lightly. 

“Lean against the door,” he said. 

She did as instructed, more than happy to be swept along, and he wrapped a strong arm around her other thigh. He lifted her onto his shoulders entirely. She gasped, before he stood up, hoisting her up against the wall. She pressed a hand against the wall to stabilise herself, but she didn’t need it. Strong back muscles flexed against her calves and he straightened up. 

He made it look effortless. 

His eyes glinted between her thighs. 

Her dreams couldn’t begin to compete. 

“So beautiful,” he said, before he put his tongue to better use. 

She felt like a feast laid out before him. One of his hands wrapped around her thigh, while the other pushed inside of her. He set a tortuous slow pace. She moaned and whimpered and whined with abandon. She kept her hand buried in his hair and tried not to strangle him with her thighs.

“Do you want me, sweetheart?” he asked, licking his glistening lips. 

“So badly. I need you.” 

“Good girl.”

She clenched on his fingers. He smiled like a shark and reapplied himself to his work. She arched her back and choked back his name, belatedly finding her shame. 

She was completely naked, suspended halfway up the wall on nothing but her best friend’s broad shoulders, while he, in full leather biker gear, ate her out like he had never tasted anything sweeter. 

Fuck. She didn’t think she had ever been this turned on in her life. She clapped a hand over her mouth, feeling helpless and overwhelmed by how much she liked it. 

“None of that,” he drawled, replacing his tongue with his thumb on her clit. “I want to hear you.” 

He worked her over patiently, relentlessly, driving her higher and higher. 

“There’s nobody here but me, no one will ever know if you scream my name when you cum.”

She wanted to give a cutting reply to his smugness, but there were no words on her lips. The look she gave him was all pleading, no sass.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said. A soft smile lit up his face. “Wrecked already?”

“It’s been… a very long time.”  

“Mmm, and you’re being such a good girl for me.” He dragged his tongue through her folds. His chin glistened. “You like that, don’t you? You want to be good for me?”

She let out a desperate, mangled cry. 

“Fuck,” he groaned. “The sounds you make. I don’t ever want to stop.” 

She was so close to the edge that tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. Her legs trembled around his head. Her breathing came short and fast now, and the tight coil in her lower belly turned impossibly tighter still. 

He looked at her like she was the most precious thing in the world. 

“Jason,” she managed, “Please–please, Jay–I need–”

“Go on, beautiful. I’ll catch you.” 

Her back arched, her legs tangled around his head, and she fell apart. Sweetest pleasure wracked through her, whiting out her vision. She sobbed his name.

He worked her through it, wringing out every exultant aftershock and whimper. She was floating on a cloud of sensation and only vaguely aware that she was being lowered down. Jason propped her against the wall and rolled his shoulders before he loosely wrapped his arms around her waist. She leaned her forehead on his shoulder, utterly boneless. 

“Alright?” he murmured into her ear. 

“Fuck, Jay. I’m going to need a month to recover from that.”

He chuckled, as self satisfied as she’d ever heard him. “I hope not. Because we’re only getting started.” 

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