#this is the sweetest thing ever like just . ever ill be shouting over rooftops and rearranging the stars for u

[smoosnoom]

incredible submission by @http-byler :) sobbing btw

[enhypensimp1]

First Time nsfw

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

↝first time with sunghoon

↝warnings: mentions of pressure and mental abuse, indicated physical abuse, smut, explicit language

↝word count: 1.9k

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

You and Sunghoon had been best friends for three years having met on the rooftop of your school after finding out it was both of your favourite spots to have lunch. Ever since that morning in spring you guys had been inseparable, practically attached at the hip. You had definitely heard rumours of people speculating whether or not you guys were actually a couple, but you knew that the friendship you had with him was too special to jeopardise.

So, when you found yourself completely helpless and in need of someone to talk to you felt Sunghoon was your only option. It was 2am when you ran out of your now ex boyfriends house and drove to Sunghoons house not thinking straight after what had happened. Rain was pouring down hitting the windows of your car while you drove slightly over the speed limit, tears streaming down your face as the grip on your wheel tightened slowly breaking down in your seat.

You pulled up to his driveway, getting drenched on your way up the stairs until you reached his door, your hand lingering, debating whether or not you should knock or turn around and go back home not wanting to be a bother to Sunghoon. But you knew you were in no state to keep driving so you knocked. Something broke on the other side of the door and you could hear Sunghoons frantic footsteps on running around trying to get to the door. 

His eyes grew wide when he saw you soaking wet, your tears mixed in with the rain and his heart clenched at the sight of you. After a minute of staring, he came back to his senses and ushered you into his house running down the hall quickly to grab you some towels and putting the heater on. He wrapped it around your shoulders pulling you into his chest and you couldn’t help but sob making a wet circle pool on his shirt.

Worry was laced in his voice bombarding you with questions, “what the hell were you thinking its 2am you shouldn’t be driving alone this late! What happened? Who did this to you? Do you need something?”

You calmed down, his hand softly caressing your hair making you feel slightly at peace and he dragged you over to his room, handing you his hoodie and sweatpants to change in to since all of your clothes were soaked, telling you to sit down.

“Please just tell me what happened” his eyes softened at you.

“I was at y/bf/n house and he had been drinking a lot and you know how he gets when he drinks, so when I tried to get him a glass of water to calm him down, he pushed me against the wall… trying to remove my clothes. We’ve never done that before and he was being kind of aggressive, so I told him to stop. But then he got angry, started calling me names, which isn’t e big deal because he does that all the time. I had to push him away when he tightened his grip around me and that’s when he lost it and threw the glass at the wall, so I ran out and… now I’m here.” You were so done crying all you could do was stare at Sunghoons now flaming eyes.

“What the fuck y/n. And you decide to tell me this now?! Why have you stayed with him for so long? I swear to God ill kill him.” His jaw was clenched, and his hands were curled into tight fists. All you could do was stare at him. You didn’t have a good answer and he knew you didn’t which only made him angrier.

“Do you think its normal for him to call you names and treat you like shit? That guy is a complete ass and you just let him string you along! Why would you let him do that when you could have someone who cares about you so much it hurts? Someone who wouldn’t even let a fly hurt you. Someone who loves you!” He was shouting now.

You were getting frustrated, he thought it was so simple when really you stayed with that asshole was because you felt like he was your only option.

So, you challenged him, scoffing “oh yeah? Like who- “

“LIKE ME.” He cried out interrupting you.

You walked up to him and slowly put your hand on his cheek looking into his eyes and for a second you almost couldn’t believe how you hadn’t noticed it before. The way he looked at you with stars in his eyes, as if you were his life and entire future. You would be lying if you said you didn’t get butterflies every time he smiled at you and gave you a hug, but you knew you had never seen him look at anyone the way he looked at you.

You closed the gap between the two of you attaching your lips to his feeling his hand snake around your neck as he moved his lips against yours deepening the kiss. It was gentle yet filled with so much love and it took your breath completely away. “I love you too” you whispered inches away from his lips and he moved in again in a slow and passionate kiss, his touch feather like against yours snaking his arm around your waist and using the other one to hold cheek and jaw. You gripped the hairs on the back of his neck pulling him impossibly closer using the small moan he let out to slip your tongue in pushing him against the wall.

Things were getting very heated and your hands moved to lift his shirt over his head admiring his toned body before leaving a trail of kisses down his neck. He took your face forcing you to look at him. “Baby we don’t have to do this now you’ve had a rough day.” But you knew the second you looked into his eyes earlier that he was the only one you would want to do this with.

“It’s okay I want to” you replied softly, sincerity laced in the way you looked at him. He picked you up making you wrap your legs around his waist as he carried you to the bed laying you down gently. You discarded of the hoodie he gave you throwing it to the corner of the room, and he began to pepper kisses on your jawline while his hand softly caressed your hips basking in the feeling of your skin. He couldn’t believe he finally had you all to himself. 

You lifted your hips so he could help you take off your pants, sliding the down your legs to reveal you in just your underwear. “You’re so pretty” he whispered, looking down at you and you couldn’t help but giggle. He bent down spreading your legs to trail kisses on the inside of your thighs loving the small noises that came out of your mouth from the contact. He ripped the panties off you startling you.

“Sunghoon those were new” you shrieked. “I’ll buy you all the underwear you want love” he flashed you a charming smile showing his adorable fanged teeth. He moved his finger between your folds, wetness dripping onto it. He wrapped his lips around your bud biting down on it lightly making your body jerk releasing a loud moan. He looked up at you for a moment grinning” tonight is all about you princess” before licking a long strip between your slit.

Your hands flew down tangling themselves in his hair shuddering underneath him from the pleasure loving the way his warm tongue was hitting your clit. He leaned up wiping the corner of his mouth, taking your hand in his and intertwining your finger together before pressing a tender kiss to your mouth the taste of you still prominent on his lips.

He finally got rid of his pants freeing his bulge from the tight constriction. All you could think was how he’s never looked better in your eyes. Hair messy from the way your hands were tangled in it, lips slightly swollen from sucking on your bud and sweat running down his chest from pure arousal and anticipation.

“Don’t look at me like that you’re going to drive me crazy”.

He placed one hand next to your head, the other reaching down to line himself with your entrance.

“Are you sure you want this?”

“Sunghoon please for the love of God just fuck me” He chuckled at your response, pushing himself all the way in in one go, stilling completely to let you adjust to his size.

He placed one hand next to your head, the other reaching down to line himself with your entrance.

Tears pricked your eyes at the sudden stretch and pain that shot up between your legs. He leaned down kissing your tears away, running a hand through your hair while he whispered the sweetest things in your ear. When you told him he could start moving he would start slowly, scared of causing you any more pain. His thrusts were slow but went so deep allowing you to feel every single inch of him inside you each time making you moan his name over and over again. You moved your hips to meet his thrusts, your eagerness riling him up even more as he spread your legs wider to get even better access and go deeper.

His dick was already twitching in your tightness unable to hold back the low groans that escape him. He buried his face in your neck nipping at the skin on your shoulder, reaching his hand to draw circles on your bud, making you instantly close your legs around his waist arching your back off the bed pressing your chest against his while he picked up the pace feeling your walls clench around him. Your sweaty bodies stuck to each other, but you were feeling such bliss you couldn’t have cared less, your mind only focusing on Sunghoons lips on your neck and him buried inside you.

Your nails dug into his forearm, clenching around him more frequently, a tight knot beginning to form in your abdomen as you felt your release nearing. He focused all of his energy on your pleasure, he pulled all the way out of you with every thrust, snapping his hips harder into you hitting a spot that made your legs shake around him feeling a wave of pleasure completely take over you and cloud your mind.

You flipped him over, still inside of you, trying to coax him to reach his own high knowing he was near by the way he pulsed violently in you. He thought you looked beautiful before, whining and writhing underneath him but this new view, watching clearly how your mouth hung open and how you bounced on him, he felt like he was literally in heaven. Without any warning he gripped your hips and came twitching slightly letting the orgasm wash over him.

You slowly climbed off him falling back on the bed exhaustion taking over you. After Sunghoon cleaned you both up giving you some of his fresh clothes he took you to the kitchen to make some ramen for a midnight snack realising you probably hadn’t eaten in a while. You sat on a stool watching his broad shoulders from behind before sneaking up on him, wrapping your arms around him. He blushed lightly, turning you around to give you a sweeping kiss smiling against your lips.

“Thank you Sunghoon this was perfect”.

“You’re perfect”.

And to him you really were perfect.

[swindlersstole]

For the kisses prompt lumineric 7 or 17 if it's ok?

hell YES it is absolutely ok

two quick disclaimers, I did pick 7 because that one came to me first… but the catch is it DID turn into an FF9 au (because if I like a ship I’m gonna make a 9 au out of it, it’s just the Cosmic Bear Order). specifically I’m going off of the ending of 9, so it might help to watch the ending first if you don’t already know how it goes (I started it off at the 18:10 mark on the video)

I’m gonna take a crack at 17 though when I figure out something aside from “get caught in rain” I promise you that at least

~

7. Slowly, while everyone is watching

It’s been a long time, Nova thinks, since he last saw a play.

His musings don’t go unnoticed. Once Hendrik and Krystalinda have announced themselves, salutes and all, they don’t waste any time in coming closer to the throne, and to his side. It’s rather comforting that Hendrik is all the more familiar with him now, though Nova doubts he’ll ever be as casual as Krystalinda, who places a hand on his shoulder without much thought. “Are you alright, dear boy?”

“Yes. I’m alright.” And he is, all things considered. “The theatre ship should be arriving any minute now.” Nova smiles. “I can’t wait to see everyone again.”

“And you’re sure about this, Your Majesty?” Hendrik has gotten better, but Nova supposes he couldn’t expect him to forgo all his knightly training. He would expect no less from the captain of the guard. “No one would think ill of you, should you need more time.”

But Nova shakes his head, wizened and serene. “No. If I keep pushing it aside, then I’ll never be ready.” He pauses a moment, to brush his hair back behind his ear. He’s been letting it grow out since then, brown tresses now only ghosting over his shoulders. “I have to let go of the past.”

Before Hendrik can speak again, the roaring sound of propellers cuts the conversation short. Above the castle balcony hangs the Salty Stallion, preparing to dock amidst the growing crowd, eager to see the upcoming show. Everyone in Dundrasil could do with some excitement. Everyone could do with some new, happy memories.

Nova looks up to the ship. Sylvando is at the bow, waving down at him with a grin so wide it could be seen from the heavens. He returns the gesture with gusto.

It won’t ever be the same, Nova thinks, his heart still heavy but healing every day, but I have to move on. Just like he taught me.

~

It is unsurprising, what the play chosen for tonight was going to be.

Nova isn’t sure what else he thought Sylvando would have organized, back when this whole event was scheduled. “It’s your favorite play, darling,” he had said, “and to be fair, we never did finish the show proper for your birthday. As far as I’m concerned, we owe our king this one!”

Nova had wanted to argue, but Sylvando is always insistent, and there was little point in fighting him. And when Sylvando steps out onto the stage front, he’s beaming with that same enthusiasm he had in the weeks prior. 

It sets Nova’s heart at ease. Some things don’t change, he supposes.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Sylvando begins, “Tonight’s performance is a story that takes place long, long ago. Our heroine, Princess Serenica, is torn from her lover, Erdwin. She attempts to flee the castle, only to be captured by her father, King Morcant. Tonight’s story begins when Erdwin and Serenica decide to run away together.”

Sylvando begins to step back at the light dims, flourishing his exit with a bow. 

“And now, Your Royal Majesty, King Nova; Lord Hendrik; Lady Krystalinda…”

He rises up, both arms extended, and the crowd begins to cheer.

“…noble ladies and lords, and our rooftop viewers! The Soldiers of Smile proudly present–’I Want To Be Your Canary’!”

~

The play proceeds as expected, and Nova cannot express how happy he is to see Serena in the lead.

He supposes it’s not that surprising–she’s much more soft and sweet than her sister, better suited for such a bespoken role–but from the start of their travels, she was complacent in letting Veronica take center stage. Serena came into her own right through trials and error and tribulation, her voice stronger than ever before, and Nova is so proud to call her his friend.

“Erdwin?” She calls from the stage’s castle wall, coming down to the center stage to meet a man coming from the right. He’s cloaked, heavily so, and Nova can’t discern anything about him, but he’s seen the Soldiers of Smile before, and he knows it can only be Faris under the cloak.

“Sweet Erdwin,” Serena lets herself fall into Faris’ arms, and he cradles her head against his chest, “I fear I love thee more than I should!”

“Princess…” Faris speaks now, his voice more powerful than Nova recalls, but he thinks he has Sylvando to thank for that, “Wilt thou be happy, married to a lowly peasant such as I?”

“Prithee, call me ‘princess’ no more!” Serena lifted herself from Faris’ chest. “Erdwin, wilt thou truly cherish me, the king’s only daughter? Or is such a desire too dear to wish for?!”

Her excitement seems to be getting the better of her; Nova can see the way her lips curl for miles, even as she speaks such serious, sad words, “After our nuptials, shall I become no more than a puppet? A mindless puppet–never to laugh, never to cry?”

Her head shakes, and Serena turns her face to the sky. “I wish to live my life under the sky. At times, I shall laugh, and at other times, cry. For no life is more insincere, than that lived as a masquerade.”

Faris laughs, and raises a hand from Serena’s shoulder to her cheek, drawing her face back to him. “Such consideration thou hast given it! But worry not!”

He draws Serena back into his arms, so soft, so eager. “Cast aside thy trappings of royalty, and I shall swaddle thee in a gown of pure love. Never again will I part from thee–pray, my love! Make me thy canary, to keep forever in the cage of your bosom.”

Nova hears the swoons from the audience below loud as day, as they both part once again. 

“Let us embark on the first ship tomorrow,” Faris continues, “before dawn can can tell of our elopement.”

“All my fortunes at thy feet, I lay,” Serena answers, “and I shall follow thee throughout the world!”

Faris begins to tread backward, to leave the stage once more, and he holds Serena’s hand as long as he can. “No cloud, no squall, shall hinder us!”

He releases her reluctantly, reaching for her even as he departs, leaving Serena alone on stage once more.

“O, love is the sweetest joy, and the wildest woe.” Serena falls to her knees, hands clutching at her heart. “All I wish… is to be by my sweet Erdwin’s side.”

She speaks wistfully, longing in her voice, and it’s strange, because suddenly, Nova truly understands those words now. And it stings all the more now, because he knows how this play ends.

On stage left, crouched behind the backdrop of stars, the wheels of this tragic tale have already begun to spin–but what Nova isn’t expecting is that Faris is the one to turn them.

“Fie!” He curses, and now Nova can’t even imagine why he thought he was playing Erdwin, “It shall be war again unless this marriage is stopped. Ne’er will I let their plan come to fruition.”

He stands from his hiding spot, and comes to center stage alongside Serena. He bows. “Good day to ye, Highness.”

Serena, rising from the ground, curtsies, cautiously. “Good day…”

“Wist thee of Erdwin?”

“Erdwin?!” She crosses the gap between them without a second thought, “What news dost thou bring?”

“This!”

Faris reels back his fist, and sends it down into Serena’s stomach. It isn’t a real strike, clearly, but the chorus of gasps from the audience make it seem all the more lifelike. And as Serena cries out and crumples into Faris’ arms, the stage goes dark, leaving Nova with far more questions than he’d anticipated.

~

When the lights come back on, they shine on Sylvando, who strides on stage every bit of the imposing king he’s meant to portray. “Where is she?!” He shouts. “Where has mine only daughter gone?!”

It doesn’t surprise Nova–even if the theatre troupe is a front, Sylvando has always taken that front very seriously–but it is strange to see such a jovial man so serious. He must be enjoying himself tonight, Nova thinks.

Faris enters the stage once more, descending from the staircase, and Sylvando turns to greet him. “Faris, good man! Hast thou seen Serenica?”

When Faris reaches the stage, he bows assuredly. “Worry not, Majesty. I shall make sure Serenica marries Prince Drustan. Be thou at ease.”

“At ease, sayest thou?” Sylvando retorts, “How can I rest, not knowing she is safe? Could it be…” He eyes Faris with a glare, “thou hast betrayed me?”

“By my troth, sir,” Faris asserts, “I betrayed none other than poor Erdwin!”

“Thou had the gall to betray thy dearest friend.” Sylvando snorts, and steps closer to Faris. “Would thou not betray me as swiftly?”

Faris takes a step back, panic beginning to fill his eyes. “Stay thy hand, I merely…”

But Sylvando does not stay his hand. He draws his sword, and strikes Faris down. Even knowing that it is fake, Nova cannot help but wince at the sight, as do many others in the audience below.

As Sylvando walks away from Faris’ crumpled from, Faris cries out with his last breath, “I merely sought a lasting peace between two kingdoms!”

Jade and Veronica arrive from both sides of the stage; Veronica’s hair has been hidden away into her hat, Nova notes, most likely to separate her from her sister.

“The traitor is dead!”

“O, cruel fate!”

But Sylvando does not give them the time to talk, and addresses them with a wave of his hand. “You two–quickly, find Serenica and bring her to me!”

Each girl addresses him with a bow–”Yes, Your Majesty.”–and are off just as quickly as they came.

“Wretched daughter!” Alone once more, save for Faris playing dead on the floor, Sylvando turns to the audience as the stage turns black again. “How dare she disobey her father’s wishes!”

~

When the stage lights again, the play is in it’s final scene. 

Or at least, so Nova believes it to be. He knows this play so well, reading it cover to cover endlessly over the course of his life, but this scene, with the painted sky of two moons and the encroaching dawn, are unfamiliar to him. Erdwin–who he can only assume now is being played by Dave, because Nova can think of no one else–awaits on stage, alone, for Serenica. 

Sylvando, it seems, has taken artistic liberty, which isn’t uncommon for a play so old. Nova supposes he understands the excitement now.

“The time for our departure is long past.” Erdwin speaks. “Where is Serenica?”

As fate would have it, from stage left comes Dave, and now Nova is finally out of options for who the leading man is. Perhaps it’s someone new, he thinks, someone he hasn’t met yet in the time since their journey ended.

“Erdwin!” shouts Dave, “The ship soon embarks! Board ye this boat alone, and peace could come to both kingdoms, as Faris so said.”

Erdwin says nothing, and Dave implores again, “Speak, Erdwin!”

“…she told me should could not live without me.” 

The melancholy, performative as it is, is still almost too much to bear, even if Nova does not know the words this time. Erdwin turns his back to the crowd, to face the painted sky; shadows of birds now dance along the coming sun. 

“So, the sun is our enemy, too. The eastern sky grows bright. Will we not spread our wings, as yonder birds in joyous flight?”

“Hark, Erdwin!” Dave pleads, beginning to run off stage. “They cannot wait any longer! The ship departs!”

But Erdwin does not move, now alone, gaze trained to the birds above him. “Could she… have betrayed me?” He begins a pace across the stage, desperation in his every move. “Nay, ne’er would my love speak false–I must have faith! She shall appear, if I only believe! As the sun lends me no ear, I pray instead to the twin moons!”

His stance now strong once more, Erdwin turns to face the painted moons, arms raised in prayer. “I beseech thee, wondrous moonlight–grant me my only wish!”

He lowers himself to the ground, and for a moment, Nova thinks he is preparing to beg. But then, Erdwin’s hand grabs at the bottom of his cloak, and tears it up and away from him–and when the first thing Nova sees of this man is a blue tail, he all but jumps to his feet.

Erik throws the cloak away from him, chest heaving, face grinning, hand outstretched to the throne. “Bring my beloved Eleven to me!”

~

Everything else after that is a blur.

Nova stands on the balcony dumbfounded for what feels like eons, but when he finally registers that yes, he isn’t dreaming, and yes, Erik is alive, and yes, Erik is waiting for him, he dashes to the doors, and if not for Hendrik and Krystalinda holding their arms out to block the way, he would have barreled through them without stopping.

Nova does skid to a stop, though, and is prepared to command and plead his way through–but the two push the doors open for him without a word.

He looks to Hendrik, who smiles, and nods. He looks to Krystalinda, who chuckles, and bows at the door. He wonders if they knew all along, and then decides that he doesn’t really care.

Nova gasps out a hushed, “Thank you”, and runs once again, down the spiral staircase, tripping on the last stair but refusing to fall. The guards at the front door jump away when he charges ahead, and he pushes through into the crowd below.

The sudden burst of sunlight is blinding, and Nova finds himself bumping into a man before pushing through, past noblemen and women and all sorts, none of whom are prepared to see their king stumbling through the crowd as fast as he can. 

And the crowd only begins to part for him when cries of his presence begin to rise and carry like a wave, and by that point, the goal is in sight. Erik is stepping down from the stage waiting to greet him, and when he sees Erik run a hand through his hair with a shy grin, Nova throws his crown off his head onto the ground, and all but leaps into Erik’s open arms.

He almost knocks Erik off his feet. Serves him right, a part of Nova thinks, for leaving him alone like that for so long, but the rest of him is too caught up with the feeling of Erik’s arms wrapped around his waist, tight as can be, spinning him in circles before finally setting Nova down. And when Nova looks at Erik in the eyes once more, he realizes that it’s through his own tears and held back sobs.

He brings his hands to cup Erik’s face, and Erik gives him an apologetic look. He puts a hand between them, and wipes away a tear from Nova’s cheek with his finger.

“Sorry it took me so long,” Erik says, or at least, he might have said it, because Nova had pulled Erik’s lips against his own before he even had time to think about it.

There was so much that could be said, so much that had to be said still. Everything they all saw and felt that day Erik parted from them. Nova had thought he’d said them all on that fateful goodbye, but as he kissed Erik, and Erik squeezed his waist and kissed him tenfold in return, he realizes that he’d still been holding back. Nova always knew he had been, he supposes, but it a gentle lie like that had been helping him along to heal. He would have faced the full truth, one day, when the past was truly behind him.

The past is behind him now. Behind all of them. And in its place, a brighter future Nova couldn’t have dared to dream of.

There is still so much he wanted to say, and could only say between desperate lips and hushed voices, but Erik pulls Nova away from him, and knocks their foreheads together. In the distance, Nova can hear the cheers of the kingdom, and their companions, but he’s far too lost in Erik to give them much thought.

Nova’s arms against his shoulders, Erik shrugs, and smiles. And Nova falls into Erik’s arms, his head on his shoulder, and fist pounding against his chest. He only stops when he feels Erik’s hand slide up his back, and when Erik lays his head against his, and presses a kiss to his ear, Nova begins to cry without relent.

[luninosity]

Here, have a piece of the story in question! I think maybe I’ll put the first bit up on AO3 tomorrow or Friday, then, if there’s interest!

##

Day one. Los Angeles at fifteen minutes before six in the morning. The Raven Studios lot, and a make-up chair. The first make-up chair, on the first official day, not a test or an exploration.

 Jason patiently closed eyes for an airbrush, a sharpened eyeliner pencil, gentle blending. Opened them and regarded himself in the mirror.

 Another person looked back, a strange hybrid self. Captain Stephen Lanyon’s slightly longer hair, courtesy of extensions, enough to pull into a gentlemanly queue. Lighter in places than Jason’s own dark brown: still brown, yeah, but kissed by the sun, by salt, by shipboard naval life. The airbrush had sun-kissed his skin as well; he was tempted to touch it, but knew better. Cherry Khan’s hands danced around him, working her spells; he’d liked her calmness ever since the first trial run. They got along; he was glad to’ve met her, part of Jillian Poe’s crew.

 He met his own gaze, through mirror-gleam and make-up. Still his eyes. Still his clothes, at least for the moment: jeans and a casual red shirt, simple and uncomplicated.

 He liked to think of himself as uncomplicated. He was: an action hero, big and justifiably proud of muscles, generally goodhearted, appreciative of his family and his grandmother’s marinara sauce.

 He didn’t feel uncomplicated right now. This role, this chance, this future: he wanted to grab onto it with both hands and cling. To prove that he could be that other self. Someone who could do more than kick and punch and shout angrily at evildoers.

 He wanted to tell stories. To tell this story, history-drenched and rich as velvet and deeply textured with the lives of two men loving each other, as men had throughout the past.

 He wanted to do this story justice. He wanted to prove himself. He wanted to impress Colby Kent and apologize to Colby Kent. They’d not spent any real time together—a table read or two, a few emails from Colby wearing the producer hat and checking on a detail or two of Jason’s contract—and Jason’d been gnawed half to death by guilt.

 He wasn’t really a dick. He hadn’t meant to hurt Colby. He’d been having a rough day, chased in circles by desperation and inadequacy, and he’d said stupid words in the hallway, and Colby’d heard him and then not been able to look at him, and—

 And Colby and Jillian had cast him anyway. That was the part Jason couldn’t figure out.

 “A bit more brightness, I think,” Cherry murmured, and one slim finger dabbed a mystery potion under his eyes. “And don’t fret so much. Is it first-day jitters, then? Or something else? Maybe…a boy?” She lifted eyebrows at him; Jason laughed. “Tell me all about it if it is. All the details.”

 “Sort of a boy,” Jason agreed obligingly. True, for a given interpretation. “It’s not like that, though. Just that I said something dumb and I haven’t been able to apologize. He’s probably not even thinking about it or me—” Also likely true; Colby must have much more interesting thoughts to occupy his time. Fabulous parties in that luxurious apartment. New ways to spend that A-list income. Guys flinging themselves his direction. Everyone adoring him.

 “—it’s just, y’know, it bothers me,” he finished. “But at least I look great, Cher, thanks.”

 “You’re lovely, dear.” She patted his shoulder. “And I’m sure if you apologize he’ll forgive you. Especially with those big pretty eyes. I’d forgive you.”

 “Thanks more?”

 “I could think of a few more things to do with you, if I was at all interested in the eggplant crowd.” Cherry patted him again. Her partner Diana was a chef, Jason knew; they’d chatted about the proper layering of lasagna and Jason’s family’s recipe early on. “I’m sure your boy could, too.”

 “He’s not my anything. It’s not…” He sighed. “It’s not like that.”

 “Of course it’s not,” Cherry said, “you’re only obsessing over something dumb you said and whether or not he’s thinking of you,” and poked a pencil at his eyebrow.

 It wasn’t like that. It’d never be. Colby might’ve agreed to work with him, the in-role chemistry might be fantastic, but Colby couldn’t look at him. Found other people to talk to after table reads. Sent proper businesslike emails that always sounded vaguely British in tone and phrasing, as if that childhood training remained inescapable.

 But Jason remembered the way that hand felt in his. He’d seen those glorious eyes upturned and gazing into his. He’d seen Colby Kent flinch, an ephemeral specter of genuine vulnerability. He’d wanted to help then; he wanted to now.

 He didn’t even know why. They weren’t friends. Colby couldn’t need him.

 But some tiny wistful part of his heart hoped Colby had someone, among that sea of admirers. Someone who’d see him. Someone who’d be there for him.

 Jason’s heart wished it could help. Not even because Colby Kent was gorgeous and talented and a daydream come to life. Just because it did not like the idea of someone being unhappy, and particularly that someone being Colby, who would choose a co-star based on what’d be best for the film, regardless of personal discomfort.

 Jason, eyeing himself and his newly shaped eyebrows, knew he should be thinking of his own role. Slipping into Stephen’s skin. Preparing for a soundstage and a ship’s deck, the movie-magic half-built version. Conversations with Leo Whyte, playing his loyal lieutenant. Later, that afternoon, one conversation with Colby. A moment in which William Crawford, Viscount Easterly, had dared ill health and parental anger to slip onto Stephen’s ship and say farewell. They would not touch, not even kiss, in a space filled with crew and pre-departure bustle; but they would take each other’s hands, briefly, and they would know.

 Jason, who’d taken Colby’s hand once, understood. Intimacy stolen out of public view. A commitment made sweeter by the ache of restraint. By the brush of skin to skin, laid bare.

 Colby’d chosen. Had put his hand into Jason’s, given the invitation.

 And Jason needed to stop remembering, imagining, wondering. For one thing, he didn’t have the right. For another, those imaginings were starting to cause certain effects in his jeans, a fact simultaneously hot and potentially embarrassing and startling. He knew what he liked, as far as sweetness and surrender actively forthrightly given; he could not remember a time when he’d gone achingly hard from the memory of a touch of a hand.

 Dammit. He had to stop thinking about Colby Kent. About wide blue eyes with their unusual darker outer ring of color, about the sparkle in them when saying Captain like a dare, like a tease—

 “Good morning!” Cherry chirped to someone behind his shoulder. “What’re you doing in this early, sugar, you’re not on set until this afternoon!”

 “I can’t come by to say hello to my favorite artistic genius?” That voice. Oh god, that voice. Amusement in ancient castles. Sunlight over stones. Arthurian mythology by way of Southern California. Jason sat frozen, thanking God and Cherry for concealer that’d hide flushed cheeks.

 Colby went on, “I’ve also bought pastries for everyone. There’s more on the cart outside, but I thought I’d bring this box over. I know they’re nothing as good as Di’s, but perhaps still good enough to begin the shoot with? And—oh, Jason! Good morning. Would you like some sort of apple tart? Or a cinnamon…well, I don’t know what that is, but it’s definitely got cinnamon in.”

 “Um,” Jason managed.

 “I’ll just leave these and get out of your way.”

 “No you won’t,” Cherry said, picking up something round and chocolate-dipped. “Colby, darling, tell us exactly everything from Maureen Hart’s engagement party last month. Did she really invite all her exes? And did Skylar Mason really get drunk and fall into the pool, because the tabloids are saying so, but I know someone who worked on all five seasons of Vampire High with him and said he was the sweetest nicest boy—”

 Colby, who of course had been invited—Mo Hart’s engagement party invite list had comprised most of A-list Hollywood, several billionaires, and a prince or two, and decidedly not Jason—perched on the edge of a second chair and said willingly, “No, as far as I know he only tripped over someone, there was hardly any room to breathe even up on that rooftop patio, and I’m very sorry but I didn’t properly count the number of exes, though I did see Brett Claremont gazing longingly at Lindsay Miller, and she seemed to be looking back?” and they disappeared into a discussion of glamorous film-star hook-ups and break-ups and whether Lindsay should take Brett back, for a good twenty minutes.

 They seemed to forget that Jason existed. That was fine. Jason was busy getting breath back. Forcing blood into other parts of his body.

 Colby, he noticed, tended not to lead a conversation. Answering questions, smiling, happily responding to whatever Cherry wanted to know and apologizing for not knowing some answers, but definitely reacting instead of directing. Being exactly what she wanted of him.

 Jason did not know what to do with this information.

 He watched Colby Kent some more. Colby, even dressed casually, came in layers. Comfortable-looking but stylish pants, not jeans. A blue cardigan over a button-down shirt, even at six in the morning. The cardigan was buttoned also. Jason thought about that for a minute, too.

 Colby might just be one of those people who couldn’t stand to look unkempt. Considering the motion of those hands, the half-messy swoop of dark hair that fluffed outward more on one side than the other, Jason wasn’t sure. Something about the sleeves and the buttons suggested armor. Something about Colby’s smile suggested steps across ice: not shy, not afraid, but aware. Conscious of each reply, as if making sure it was what would be desired.

 Colby’s hair was longer now as well. William needed to have dramatic windswept Byronic locks, good for pensive longing beside a library window or winding a lover’s fingers through. Colby hadn’t done extensions, though; that was all his hair, soft and dark and rumpled from the early morning.

 Jason’s fingers, without regard for Jason’s brain, wanted to go over there and rumple it more.

 “I’m so sorry,” Colby said, turning his way. “We’re neglecting you. It wasn’t even that good a party; I only went because, well, they invited me, and I didn’t want to be rude and say no. I left early, in fact, and went home and found a book. Have you had any pastries? This one’s got blueberries and some sort of creamy center. How are you feeling about this morning? Have you been practicing all of Stephen’s nautical terminology?”

 You went because they invited you and your popularity with the media, Jason thought. You probably bought the most expensive item on their gift list, too. And then went home early. With a book. He said, “What book?”

[jasonfvkingtodd]

Wolf  [Part 1]

Warnings: Slight mention of mental illnesses

I awoke with a throbbing headache from the earlier 'session'. Ive been stuck in this cell, tortured for weeks or even months on end in 'The Lab'. My own blood was on the floor and walls of the cells, it stank like the pits of hell. Why were they doing this? Both my tank top and tactical pants were caked with blood. When was the last time I actually cleaned up? Fuck.

A group of men burst into the cell and dragged me across a long corridor, illuminated with bright white lights. A bald man with a goatee wearing a white lab coat greeted me. As from what I’ve have gathered from the conversations my captors had, his name was Sadiq.

"Jasmine, nice to see that you've... recovered. Lets begin with our next session." Sadiq smirked.

I then glanced down to find that the stab wound from the previous time you were in The Lab healed fully.

The men tied me down to a examining table, awaiting for Sadiq's instruction. Not having enough energy to resist them, I laid there, exhausted and hopeless, awaiting the pain that’s about to come. Then, out of nowhere, men were shouting outside the Lab, followed by guns firing. Sadiq looked worried, terrified even and ran out of the room. Not so tough now huh.

Minutes later, the entire facility sat in a deafening silence. I started to realize why Sadiq was scared shitless. Something took out the entire facility within minutes. Strapped to the table, i was left defenseless. Unable to turn my head, I heard the door opening behind, followed by a dark shadow with... pointy ears? Was this a joke? A face loomed over, it was covered by a cowl. The man’s face was impossible to read. He then sunk a syringe into your neck as you slowly faded into oblivion.

Whispers were heard as you laid on what felt like a metal surface. “You can’t just bring someone like this into the cave Master Bruce. Especially not a criminal!”, a British sounding voice exclaimed. “She’s in need of immediate medical attention that even the best hospital in Gotham can’t provide,” a deeper, American sounding voice replied.  How was I a criminal?

They’re going to torture me again. Another one of Sadiq’s mind games. The man in the mask moved towards me, his face inches away.

“Why are you in Gotham,” he growled.

“ I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I blatantly said.

“Let me ask you once more. Why. Are. You. In. Gotham.” The man in the mask repeated.

I remained silent. No point answering him anymore. He remained silent for a while, thinking.

“Do you remember fighting me?” He asked.

“No.” I answered.

“Do you remember fighting me for that thumbdrive?”

“Uhm no.” I hesitated. What on earth?

“She doesn’t remember a single thing from 6 months ago.” The man in the mask said to the older guy in a suit standing beside him, both seemed… vexed. Maybe I was really rescued.

The man then turnt to the machine and administered another substance into the IV drip. Before I could panic, I immediately felt the effect of the knockout drug, as waves of fatigue crashed over me, before I drifted back into nothingness.

I woke up to warm rays of sunlight on my face. Sunlight. Huh. It’s been forever since I’ve seen the sun. Last time I saw it… well, Sadiq almost executed me. Just one of his mind games.

“Good morning Miss.” The British guy walked in the room just as I was about stand up. I tensed up, my body on alert. I’m much stronger now, I can fight back. “You’re safe here. Don’t worry Miss…?”

“Jasmine. You can just call me Jasmine.” I managed to stutter out. That’s what I presume, my name I mean. Sadiq always calls me that. I never knew my name, I can’t even remember who were my parents.

“At your service Miss Jasmine. Oh, where are my manners. Alfred Pennyworth, at your service. If you need anything, ring the bell.” He gestured to your nightstand where a dainty-looking hand bell stood.

“Yes… Sure, thank you. May I ask where am I?” I probed. This sounded too good to be true.

“You’re staying in Wayne Manor, Bruce Wayne’s ‘house’” He replied.

Who? Who the tell was that? I gave a puzzled look to him. I heard him mutter under his breath, “Oh dear Lord, this is even worse than what Master Bruce has made it to be.”

He cleared his throat, “Would you like a tour around the manor Miss Jasmine?”

With that, I was cooped up in this manor for 2 months, recuperating. Not that I’m complaining, it’s been the best days of my life. On the plus side, I was getting stronger everyday, getting smarter everyday. I eventually found out who Bruce Wayne was, billioniare ‘playboy’, secretly Batman. Funny how I knew Batman first before Bruce Wayne. But like all the Robins before me, I found hope again.

The first time I met Bruce  (a few days after I woke up in the manor),  I hugged him. I know, totally not the most awkward thing to ever do when you first meet the Batman.  Still, no regrets. “Thank you. For saving me.” I choked out. He smiled (HE ACTUALLY SMILED). And that was our first non-hostile exchange of information. He’s the sweetest person, although he doesn’t actually show it. He became a father figure to me after the 2 months.

As weeks passed, he started teaching me martial arts as I recovered. ‘To neutralize threats’ he would tell me, ‘is to take each and everyone of them down in the fastest way possible’ as he fucking flips me across the room.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m never becoming a Robin, Damien would murder me. Besides, I’m pretty sure I’m not cut out for this shit. I’ve had countless sleepless nights, even with the knowledge I’m safe, I can never sleep properly without medication. It’s a problem, I know. Thus, I would conclude, everytime I had an internal argument on taking up Robin’s mantel, I would never get that lovely 8h of sleep if I were to become Robin.

Meanwhile, as I’m fantasizing about my plans to take Sadiq down with the new learnt moves Bruce has taught me, I walked around the house. Then one day, I saw a figure looming over a picture in the library. Fuck is that a ghost? I’ve always heard stories from Dick that the manor had tons of wandering spirits.

As I inspected closer, it was a man. Around 6’2, in a grey tactical suit with a red bat symbol. As he sensed someone’s prescence, his head suddenly turnt to my direction, staring right back at me.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I asked, getting ready to fight if there was a need.

He laughed, “What the fuck are you doing here? Alfred let me in don’t worry. “ He paused awhile and continued, “OH you’re the girl, Alfred’s talking about! You’re a clone or something right? Hi, I’m Jason Todd, former robin, now red hood.” He remarked.

“What th- First of all fuck you, I lost my memory I’m not a fucking clone. Second, name’s Jasmine, you shitfuck.” Shit was that too rude? FUCK.

Jason chuckled,”Woah, feisty. Nice to meet you Jasmine. Are you planning to fight Damien to overthrow him as Robin? Or are you going to take the Spoiler route?”

“Huh, definitely fighting Damien.” I joked.

Jason and I… We hit it off. It’s kinda like the dynamic I have with Dick, only much much more inappropriate. I talked all the way into the night as he drove you to what he termed “the most beautiful view in Gotham”.

“Woah.” I marveled at the city lights of Gotham city as both of us reached the rooftop of a rickety old brick building. “I gotta admit Jason, I had my doubts.”

“Never judge a book by its cover clonegirl.” He remarked.

“Fuck you.” I rolled my eyes.

Both our feet hung off the rooftop, sitting next to Jason’s childhood gargoyle, letting the stillness of the night fill the atmosphere. The view was amazing. 

However, as I looked down, cop cars raced off along the road. I was reminded of the crimes that people were committing during Gotham nights. Then one thought led to the other, I was in Sadiq’s Lab again, filled with fear. Agony. Pain. Fuck this wasn’t the first time I’m having these flashbacks, but every. Damn. Time. It feels the same.

“Jason, do you ever have flashbacks?” I broke the silence.

“Of wha- Oh. Yea. I have them. Not the best thing when it happens. Although it did make me zone out when I was tortured down in Qurac.Why?” He remarked.

“Huh, nice. I just don’t know what to do. You can’t stop the images from forming you know? It’s not… I can’t.” My brain was not working.

“Fuck, what happened Jasmine?”

“I was tortured too. By a man named Sadiq. For months, the pain I was put through was unbearable. But he just won’t let me die. Whenever I wake up, my wounds, even a punctured lung, stab wounds… They’ve all been healed.” I rambled, before I knew,  tears started streaming down my cheeks. “ Oh fuck. Sorry. You really don’t have to know that.”

“Hey hey, its going to be ok. You can cope with it. You’re here now right? Let’s start with that” Jason said, as he hugged be. Oh god. The warmth that radiates off him. I want this hug to last forever.

I sniffed, “I guess you’re right.”

I asked him all questions on coping with all these and he has been the best support. Don’t get me wrong here, Alfred and Bruce has helped me so much through these weeks of rehab but the emotional trauma… I don’t want to cast that burden on them, or anyone.

Jason and I, I realized, shares a lot of common things. We went through surprisingly similar experiences, similar tastes, humor…

“And that was how I knew I’ve done fucked up this time.” Jason concluded on his story on bringing a muddy raccoon back into the manor when he was 15. We were sitting shoulder to shoulder, sitting closer and closer together as our conversation and the night went on.

As we watched the sunrise, I rested my head on his shoulders. I felt him tense up. Ohhh shit, bad move Jasmine. He relaxed again as he let out a breath, resting his head on mine. Relief washed over me.

“We talked an entire day.” Jason cleared his throat as he got up from the ledge, “We should get some rest.” I guess he must’ve seen the disappointed look on my face. He then added,” You free tomorrow? Let’s go on a day trip to NYC.”

“Yea sure.” I chuckled. Is he leading me on? I don’t know.

As we arrived at the porch of the manor, we said our farewells.

“See you tomorrow, pick you up at 0800. Rest well doll.” He said, with the most mischievious looking smile ever.

“See you soon Jay.”

Thank you for 100 followers and for surviving this long ass read at my first shot at a fanfiction! I opted to go for 1st person instead of reader x Jason fic as I found it more challenging to write from that POV.This story also starts off on the first few issues of RHATO Rebirth. If i can, I’ll be following this series close to the current comics! :) Also, much much more fluff & action is planned out for this series! (I’ll keep on writing no matter) Already planned out a tie-in for #25 so hope yall would like it! Hope this concepts works out with logic haha. Any suggestions/tips for writing, pls comment! Much appreciated :) AND ALSO WHAT A TIME TO POST THIS YALL IMMA KICK START JASON TODD BIRTHDAY WEEK HERE WITH THIS STAY TUNED xoxo