#what they never got to have. what they never managed to build back when jason was robin

[sunlitlemonade]

when will ppl realise that the only person who could hate jason & still have him give a fuck abt them is bruce

[ghostwhippet]

From Scratch

Nutrition Info: Johnny/Reader; 4k; a meetcute launched by Reader's inability to cook reasonable portions, and Johnny's... well, just Johnny

No matter how long you live alone, you can’t get the hang of cooking for one person. Even when you try to make a single-serving meal instead of batch cooking, somehow it balloons out of control. Wasting food makes you feel awful, but you can only freeze so much.

One evening, desperate and utterly fed up, you go kick gently at a neighbor’s door, both hands full, trying to mimic a knock with your shoe. Jason, you think his name was? Striking blue eyes, big frame, a cute cropped mohawk, amazing brogue, and he’s always been cordial when you’ve run into him around the building. Friendly, but not too friendly.

He’s understandably confused by your request at first, but seems happy enough for the food, and takes it around your repeated apologies–for bothering him, for existing, for anything you can find, really.

Unfortunately, not even forcing yourself to go and do all of that manages to pierce your shite sense of volume. Your trips to his door do get less awkward over time, though. And Johnny, his name is, always has sparklingly clean dishes and containers to return in exchange for the full ones. 

Eventually he just starts showing up at your place instead and eats with you at your bar counter. He didn’t really ask, and you definitely didn’t, but there he is all the same, and… if you're honest? He’s just so easy to be around, it quickly feels natural having him there. He puts you off your guard, puts you at ease and makes you smile, like those are somehow the most natural things in the world.

From that first night, Johnny has insisted on helping with dishes. Starting the second, he’s always got groceries with him. Even manages to talk you out of your discomfort over accepting them, so well that on his fourth night, you’ve got a small shopping list ready. He’s cheeky, you don’t think he’ll mind. And he is right, after all: you're probably feeding him at least three or four nights out of the week, what with all the leftovers.

You start eating better, and trying new things you'd always planned on “getting around to,” now that you've got a reason to cook beyond not starving. Everything comes out fine the first time you make it, when you’re closely following a recipe, and Johnny has no qualms about trying anything you put in front of him. You’ve never met someone so genuinely un-fussy when it comes to food.

A couple months after he’s started eating at your place, he disappears for a while. “Work trip,” is all he'll say, and you don’t pry, even though you really want to. 

Once he’s back, he starts coming over weekend afternoons sometimes. You do brunch with beer or fancy drinks in champagne flutes, or occasional breakfast on the roof before other people are awake, him in a big hoodie or jumper, and you wearing a thick blanket like it's trying to digest you, looking like a half-drowned cat because no living being is meant to be awake at such an hour. 

You cut fruit into mangled flowers and vague geometric shapes for the brunches, usually while just spending time with him. He tries his hand at it once, with you pulling up videos, laughing the whole time you’re explaining how it’s supposed to work, and the utter bastard is better at it on his first go than you were after weeks. His hands are confoundingly steady, and his hand-eye coordination borders on the unnatural.

That’s probably the official start of his sous chef arc. And that’s what has him spending a night judging your knives and marveling, repeatedly and loudly, that you still have all your fingers.

You might put a piece of eggshell into his omelet that night in retaliation, and he might not even have the decency to react to it.

“...Johnny I can hear it crunching, oh my God would you spit it out!” You manage between laughter that’s got your face hurting.

That happens a lot around him. Smiling so much it hurts.

“Nah, i’s nice texture,” he says around the mouthful, then starts enunciating the longer words. “Very advanced technique. Shows a great awareness of the culinary experience–”

“You’re being such a prat. Why are you being such a prat!”

He talks over you as if he can’t hear you, as if he’s doing some mockingly posh review. “And honestly, the crunching–” he pauses and chomps down on the shell for effect, and how is it still intact, “it really engages the senses. Keeps me immersed in my dining experience.”

You regret loaning him your cooking books. Never again.

After that, though, he steals your knives, takes them home, and they come back so sharp you can cut windowpane slices of potato. He offers to teach you how to do it yourself–after stipulating with heart-clenching eagerness that he’s happy to come over and do it for you any time.

Johnny gets weirdly into shopping farmer’s markets, walking around discovering new produce and varieties of things he’s never seen before. “Fuck would I know tomatoes come in this color? Look at this thing, it’s like a feckin’... it’s a wee lumpy sunset, isn’t it? And this! Like someone took the heart of a dragon,” his voice had gone terribly dramatic, and you definitely hadn’t covered your face, “and stuck it on a bush somewhere.”

“Baby how are you so huge, but so adorable?” You don't know when the pet names started, but you know he started them; sometimes it feels like you two grew up together. 

You like the challenge of the new and unexpected ingredients that come from his trips, and by this point, he’s keeping your kitchen pretty stocked with whatever oddball pantry items you ask for, so you're set up to deal with almost anything. But on rare occasions he’ll call you with a question, too. You’ve had each other’s numbers for a while, it just made coordinating easier. 

“Oi can you make sommat with uh… fiddlehead ferns?”

You always can, whatever he asks about. It just takes a quick internet search to find out if you can tackle it that same night, or if it needs to wait for another day. Sometimes it ends up disastrous, but like a shot, Johnny has you laughing or throwing something at him (usually-but-not-always also while laughing) before guilt or shame can get a proper foothold.

There was a night when he was too excited about something to wait for you to answer the door when he knocked, and since then, he just sort of comes in on his own after he announces himself—at least when you know to expect him. That feels right, too, just like having him at your counter had.

You’re feeding the both of you almost every night of the week by now, even if you’re still not cooking often. You like being around him so much, you can’t imagine doing it less, not even when cooking is the last thing you want to be doing. It’s like there’s a bubbly little sun in your chest when he’s around.

Johnny makes you so happy, in fact, and you’re so afraid of losing your time with him, it’s nearly six months before the first time you have to tap out of a dinner, too knackered to make yourself even casually presentable, nevermind cook so much as instant noodles.

He reacts like it’s no problem at all, which of course he’d do, because he’s wonderful, but you don’t manage to keep your heart from dropping that he’s not at least a little sad. That he doesn’t, maybe, look forward to the nights like you do. You know your arrangement is practical, and he’s never been over unless there was food involved, but… well… seeing him seems to have become rather… vital to you.

Which means it’s better to put it away, anyhow, right?

So when, an hour after you’d texted him and basically all he’d said was No problem, thinking takeout, any votes?, he’s coming through your front door with delivery bags and talking a mile a minute like it’s just another night, you're left with your mouth open and your hand on the knob, because… because he's here.

You're not cooking, but he's still here.

You just stand there gobsmacked as he sits on the couch, nattering away, half the food out before he even realizes you’re still playing doorstop. He asks if you’re having the time of your life or if you’re going to come sit down, those horrible (wonderful) crinkles at the sides of his eyes, brows pulled up in the middle.

He looks confused when you say you want to freshen up, like he can’t see that your hair might’ve lost a row with a feral rodent, or that you’re wearing clothes that shouldn’t even be outside of a bin, nevermind on a person. He just tells you the food will get cold, and that it’ll be no good that way.

So you run your hands through your hair and sit, subdued and uncertain like you haven’t been around him in ages, as he amiably fills the silence. You know he can tell you’re not right, but he’s just… acting like it’s ok that you aren’t.

Midway through the meal, he reaches forward to grab a container and put it in front of you, and it makes his knee come up against yours. 

It doesn’t move away when he sits back.

Then, as the night wears on and the very most jagged edges of your weariness have eased, he makes a joke and you bump your shoulder into him in retaliation. It pushes your legs flush… and neither of you do anything to separate them. He just keeps on being Johnny like nothing is different, like nothing strange is happening, like he can’t see how bloody flushed you must be, like the room hasn't turned to glass and burst, leaving the both of you toppling through the air.

You're not stupid, so you have to tell yourself repeatedly that he’s just trying to comfort you. He’s acting completely normal otherwise—for Johnny—and you look like a person in need of a friend tonight. And same as him, you’re at all your meal nights instead of off with friends or dates. At least for him, it’s because of his career. You haven’t even seen him bringing up a new fling in ages.

…You’re not stupid. Right?

After the food is finished, Johnny putters about cleaning up, working his way around your kitchen like he knows it exactly as well as he does. He puts all but one container of leftovers in your fridge. 

You hug your knees comfortably, just sort of watching him, too full of static to be paranoid about it, and he either doesn’t realize or isn’t bothered by it. Not being a complete creep, you don’t keep it up for too long, anyhow. You’ve got plenty to occupy your thoughts.

He surprises you on his way out by casually setting a mug in front of you. He’d made you something hot to drink while he was cleaning up, and you were so spaced you hadn’t realized. He just gives you a little smile, a gentle squeeze on the shoulder with a stroke of his thumb, says, “Wednesday, yeah?” (the night of your next normal get-together), and moves on toward the door. All normal. But there’s some metal in your chest painfully bending itself into unaccustomed shapes, jabbing places that aren’t used to the pressure, pushing into your windpipe until it’s hard to breathe, and you can’t stop yourself from telling him that you made up a new seasoning blend for popcorn, if he’d maybe like to watch a movie before he goes.

He stands there by the door looking at you just for a split second too long, opens his mouth, closes it, then settles right back onto the couch up next to you. He reaches out an arm and pulls you gently into his side, moving in a way that makes it an invitation and not a demand, while he’s talking about what to watch.

You fall asleep there. So does he.

Things turn a bit funny after that in a way you can’t quite put your finger on. At the surface, everything is the same. But nothing feels the same. Every time there’s a tease, casual touches, close quarters, you have to chant not stupid not stupid not stupid on repeat in your head. He’s just Johnny, that’s all. The guy you could have grown up with.

You keep up the dinners and the weekends, and eventually, finally realize that with him around to take all your extras, you can bake. It’s something you’ve wanted to try forever, but recipes don’t really make single servings, and you never had anyone to pawn off the other 22 muffins or ¾ of the cake onto, or the sheet of croissants, because you absolutely want to try the most fussy, difficult things. And it turns out, when at last he tells you what he does, that Johnny works at the local military base–which at least explains his size–so if he can’t polish something off, well, he knows some blokes.

You’re so excited after that, things almost seem to return to normal. He even comes over and hangs out while you’re baking sometimes. Just knocking about, licking the beaters and the spoons and the bowls, doing dishes as you go, fidgeting with this or that, all while knowing you’re equally as likely to produce something inedible as you are a treat.

Johnny tells you a little about his career one evening. He says that it means he’s in real danger often, there’s a lot of secrecy with people in his personal life, long absences and surprise ones, shit pay, and likely a brief expiration date. (You don’t really let that last one in). He’s got a bit of a funny look in his eyes when he shares about all of it. Quite focused on you, in a way? It makes your cheeks heat. It isn’t as if it’s on you to approve of his life.

But at least now you understand why he’s on his own. And you suppose you’re a bit small, because while you’re incredibly sad for him, part of you is thrilled that it means he’s not likely to be swept away by someone else too soon.

You just gather yourself up, smile, and tell him that at least he’s spending the time he has as best he can, which is a hell of a lot more than a lot of people do–although you personally hope there’s a lot more of it. And that… at the end, you're glad for all the times you're involved.

Johnny’s leaning against the counter while you fold nuts and rum-soaked fruit into a thick batter, his normally busy hands jammed into his pockets, posture a bit off, and so close you almost keep elbowing him on accident, the two of you just bantering back and forth. 

You turn your head toward him to fire back, and–

–his mouth is just there, on yours.

He lingers, but doesn’t move otherwise. It’s… testing, you think. You feel his lips shake against yours, in fact, just once. 

Your shock dies fast and your eyes slip closed, and while it’s a brief kiss, when he pulls away, you don’t open them. You can’t. Because if you’re honest, you’ve probably been gone for him since the first time you gave him a friendly hug goodnight, and it’s only ever gotten worse. If you open your eyes, this won’t be real, or it won’t have happened, or it will shatter somehow.

After a pause, he runs the back of a finger down your temple, trailing the side of your face to your jaw. You still won’t open your eyes, so he just toys with your face until you do.

He’s got a soul-crushing smile at the corners of his eyes.

“Been wanting to do that for a long time,” he admits into the quiet.

“...Oh?” Your voice is embarrassingly, unhelpfully breathy. It’d probably be mortifying, if you had the mental capacity to fully register embarrassment at the moment.

He pauses, smile making its way to his lips, and curling them up at the corners, bit by bit. He cants his head, just a little, like he wants to see you from another angle. “Aye. …Might’ve been since the first time I saw you at the mailboxes.”

“Oh?” 

That had been one of the first times you remember ever seeing him. He never said a word to you other than, “Mornin’” or “Evenin’,” if he said anything at all.

His smile blooms until you can see his teeth. “You were wearing this little shirt. Green, thin. Bit worn, like it was a favorite. Showed a wee spot of skin at your back.” His fingers brush the spot, soft and testing, near the base of your spine, and it jolts you from scalp to toes. ��Might’ve… lost some time, thinking about what it’d feel like if I slid my hand up there.” He toys with the hem of your shirt and steps in, voice going deeper and rougher around the edges. “Might’ve imagined pushing it up, getting a bit closer. Really might’ve imagined putting your back up to the slots, mo–”

You kiss him this time, before he can go on, and it’s anything but testing.

And just like everything else about him, this fits. 

His mouth fits against yours. His body fits against yours. And as if some band of control snaps, so abruptly you swear you feel it jolt through his skin, he's got you up on the counter, his thighs between yours, both of you already breathing hard.

His hands on you are perfect, calloused, slipping up under the back of your shirt, smoothing and gripping, making your chest and your thighs feel molten. It's ravenous, like he just has to touch your skin, has to get you closer. You arch toward him, fingers running up through his hair, legs curling around his and pulling him nearer.

His hips are carefully, stubbornly, infuriatingly back from you, but the kiss is so full of need, so close, that some of his breaths sound hollow against your mouth. It's like he can't decide whether inhaling or devouring you is more important, so he just doesn't choose.

When you're at the point of moaning unintentionally, of hungry little sounds forcing their way out of your chest, of your hips moving against the counter in desperation, when you're moments from outright begging, Johnny pulls back, and goes further when you try to chase his mouth.

His lips are red and full, his face dark--much worse when he catches sight of how completely drunk you must look--and he's panting. His fingers dig into your hips like he's trying to keep one or both of you from drowning. He squeezes his eyes shut.

You don't mean to, you really don't, but you look down, and lord help you but–

“That looks painful,” you tell him. Your voice sounds like it's been run over a washboard. He's tented against his denim, and his size is… proportional.

…You can't seem to remember how to make yourself look up.

“Really rather not talk about my cock just now, love,” he gravels, fingers clenching briefly against you. His head tips forward onto your shoulder, breaths panting out against your collar bone, leaving you to pick up every bit of heat he's trying to get out of himself.

You hum, teasing. “Shame, because I can't think of anything I'd rather talk ab—”

His big paw covers your mouth. “For the love of every Saint, I’m beggi—”

You cut him off right back. By licking his palm.

He recoils in horror, but the moment your eyes meet, you both burst into laughter, made worse every time he tries to tell you how disgusting that is, something about his sisters as kids, you don't know what else.

You're the first to sober, breathing almost back to normal, thoughts already whirring on fast-forward. You look down, pulling your knees together, hands gripping the edge of the counter. “Are we…. Will we be ok, after this?”

You peek up to see him looking at you like you're daft.

“‘S been the better part of a year,” he says softly, moving forward and running his thumbs over your knees. Asking your legs to make room again, to let him get close again. “Have you really not figured it out, all this time?” 

Your legs open hesitantly, and he steps in and, when you look up at him, kisses one corner of your mouth, then the other, slow and warm and so tender it feels like your chest is cracking right down the center.

Eyes closed, brows a little pinched, you murmur, “We can't all be SAS savants, Johnny.” Maybe you know. Maybe. But it has been all this time, so maybe you need to hear it, too.

He's still kissing, pace unhurried and savouring, making his way to your jaw and just beneath it. But it's calming now, somewhere between reverential and still trying to bring the both of you down. Himself especially, you think.

“Then let me spell it out for you. Gladly.” He noses up against the bottom of your ear and roughs, “You are fucking stuck with me. Glued. Bloody welded.” He huffs a laugh and leans back upright—but not all the way, not too far back. “This isnae a new thing for me. You know that, right? I just….” He shakes his head and abandons the thought, “Hell, my mates have already been asking when they can come over for dinner, the dobbers.”

Your brows shoot up. “You've talked about me at work?”

He looks down, and while his face is in half a scowl, you'd swear he does it to hide a slight flush, too. “Haven't shut up about you, more like. Should hear what my Lieutenant– Ach, nevermind that.”

You hurry to say that they're welcome any time, but it makes him scowl fully.

“Not exactly keen on the idea just yet.” He puts his arms around you, buries his face in your neck, and just stands there, breathing you in. He mutters into the crook of your shoulder, “Mind if I stay like this for a bit? Just while I, uh… calm down.”

His hips are still well back from you. You’re not sure you’ve ever adored and hated him so much at once.

“I’d really like that,” you tell him softly, arms going around his ribs, hands on his shoulders, chest to chest.

It's warm and resounding like this, so after a spell, without thinking, you bite his shoulder. Just sink your teeth in and leave them there. It’s not even entirely conscious, it's just so comfortable and comforting.

“All good, there, wee piranha?” he eventually asks, a smile in his voice.

You detach instantly. “Ah, sorry! I, uh, might have a tiny bit of an oral fixation.”

He groans. “Are ye trying to do me in?”

“I’m not the one who said we had to stop, Mr. Military Discipline.”

His eyes darken in a flash, but he tamps down on it just as quickly and gets that godawful cocky look on his face, instead. “Pardon me for not wanting to rush something that really matters.” His tone goes so soft at the end that you can’t even be mad at him--exactly as you know he intended, the great bastard.

“How did I not know what a sadist you are?”

And that look means he’s about to make you eat your words.

“Johnny I will happily kill you in your sleep.”

“I could handle that. Means you'd be in my bed, aye?”

He pulls your hands up from the death grip they've found on the edge of the counter and laces your fingers together. “I dinnae….” He clears his throat, frowns. “Just being away on deployment is shite now, and I love what I do. But I miss you while I'm gone, think about you back here all the bloody time, and we havnae even….”

When he doesn’t finish, you whisper, heart clenching with the realization, “You really don't want to rush this.”

He laughs quietly like he wants to argue. But what he says is, “No. I don't. But while that's true….” He steps in, chin ducking, eyes darkening even as they shine, voice lowering. “What do you say we turn the oven off? I've a funny feeling you willnae be getting around to that bake today.”

Masterlist

[flamingpudding]

Code: GHOST

It all started when a number code flashed across the screen of the Batcomputer while Tim was working on a case.

7 8 15 19 20

Flashed across the screen several times to the point it made Tim think that someone somehow managed to hack into the Batcomputer. It was also a number code he was not familiar with at all. So Tim reported it back over their comms in hopes that maybe one of the others knew what the numbers meant. Because all he managed to figure out from it was that the number code was an alert on the Batcomputer, one that came with coordinates that lead into the middle of nowhere.

Tim was about to join the discussion Dick and Jason were having on it when Bruce silenced them all apruptly speaking up.

"Answer code 2 1 20, sent them to the coordinates attached. I will be in the cave in ETA3 and take over from there."

The sudden silence on their communication line spoke volumes especially when Tim new the numbers was a simply code for Bat. He still did what Bruce asked him to do but that didn't stop the questions running through Tim's mind. He watched on the screen of the Batcomputer how the moment he sent the code in return, Programs started like on autopilot. A map opening that contained nothing at first but then changed into a map of a whole good damn city. Tim could only gap at what was happening on the Batcomputer before Bruce appeared and pulled him away from his seat to take over himself.

Bruce without a beat of delay started to input more codes and apparently access codes too as more and more windows opened on the Batcomputer. Tim did not realise that with time Dick, Cass and Damian had joined him as they watched Bruce work away on the Batcomputer. At some point an audiotrack opened but all they could hear was only static. They thought Bruce was going to run it through one of the noise filtering programs.

But to the shock of them, Bruce suddenly triggered a hidden compartment on the console, causing it to flip over and reveal communication link build in a way non of them had ever seen before. It was silver with green accents and looked far... older and less sleek than any of the ones they used. It was clearly not designed to stay completely hidden if put into your ear.

They watched how he simply put that earpiece on and then replayed the audiotrack.

The batkids shared a look of confusion. Non of them sure what to make of the situation until suddenly Bruce stood up from the Batcomputer.

"Prepare for a rescue mission. Nightwing, Orphan and Robin will come with me, the rest of you will stay in Gotham." Was all the man said before storming of towards the Batplane.

"Bruce what is going on?!" Dick instead of going to prepare asked stoping the man before he could get away from them. "What is the meaning of that code? Aside from the fact that simply translated it means ghost."

Bruce eyed the batkids present for a moment before letting out a grunt. "Ghost is finally ready to join the family."

"Ghost?" Tim echoed confused, never having heard that alias for any of them.

"Father what do you mean, 'join the family'?" Damian chimed in clearly frowning with suspicion.

The man eyed them once more his eyes going over each of his children, it looked like he was contemplating telling them more for a moment before he stood to fully face them and let out a sigh. "Like Clark, I too have clone child."

There was a stunned silence. No one speaking up until Dick did. "How long...?"

"14 years ago"

The silence continued as they all did the mental math. Once more it was Dick who spoke up first, clearly stunned. "You had a clone since I was eleven and now is the first time I hear of that?! You never bothered telling any of us?!"

There was a long suffering sigh. "We got to Danny before he was aged up, he was a normal baby even if created in a laboratory, so it was best for him to grow up normally, with the league we arranged for him to be sent to selected family since I had my hands full with you and-"

"Danny?!" Dick cut in. "His name is Danny? Does he even know about us?"

"Dick." Bruce called out his tone warning. "Of course I kept an eye on Danny's life. And I did made contact with him when the time was appropriated considering some of the things that were happening for the boy as he grew up, however he is not aware that he is a clone and it will stay that way. He will get to know all of you once we finished this rescue mission."

Before Dick or any of the others could say anything more Bruce spoke up firmly again. "Get ready now, we do not have any more time. Anything else will be handled later."

[fictionismyreality3]

Can we have a smut of stalker Jason with somnophilia and crazy to eat pussy? Plsss

I mean, Jason is a natural fucking pussy eater.

AND I'M HAPPY TO HAVE PLACED YOUR FIRST RESQUET!!

Can I be the 💦 anon? To u know that is me

Too Much to Take (18+)

Jason Todd x Reader

Tags: Smut, stalker!jason todd, possessive!jason todd

Warnings: romance and everything that comes with it, somnophilia, stalking, dubcon, guns, drugs, little to no aftercare.

Notes: hi babes!! I’m so so sorry this took so long, a bear ate my phone. My beautiful 💦 your request is much appreciated. I know it’s unrealistic that the reader never wakes up but I have nevER EVER BEEN HAPPIER.

The cool, night breeze of Bludhaven blew the white chiffon curtains your mother had gotten you in the wind. Across from your bed sat a gorgeous, kingly armchair where you loved to sit and read. Your apartment was carefully decorated by your artful hands, each piece put perfectly in its place. When you got home everyday, you knew you would be returning to a safe, cozy home full of memories and comfort items. Everything was just how it should be.

That’s why the man standing in your apartment was so out of place.

You were asleep, of course. Knocked out after a long day running errands. Your bed had welcomed you warmly, and you couldn’t resist cracking open your window just a little bit, wanting to savour the start of spring.

You knew the automatic danger that came with living in Bludhaven, but you’d saved up enough to move to a nicer area, and your apartment was on the 8th floor of your building. Surely, nobody would bother risking the fall.

Surely.

It had been three days since Jason had first saw you. Three days too long since he’d seen you in person. He’d watched you nearly every minute of the last 72 hours, consuming every ounce of information he could find about you and your life.

His shift watching over Bludhaven ended tomorrow, when Dick would be returning from wherever he went. So, he only had around a day left of viable excuse to be near you. After that, finding a reason to be in Bludhaven even longer would be his main priority. It was clear that he’d already be wherever you were. The thought of not being able to reach you was enough to shatter what little was left of his soul.

No, no, there was no going back now.

And so, Jason found himself perched on the rooftop across from your building, the endless Bludhaven rain pelting across his broad shoulders.

He spent the first few moments watching you carry out your night routine. It was all things many people in Bludhaven overlooked, or dropped as soon as their lives were overtaken by the chaos in the city. Somehow, you’d managed to maintain a semblance of a normal life even while being surrounded by shootings and drug runs.

He stayed still, hovering over your apartment like a cloud of death, his gaze never breaking to stray to anything else but you. He watched you make dinner, he watched you tidy up, he watched you get ready for bed. All of it was as fascinating to him as everything he’d seen when he researched your background.

All the little habits you did. The way you fiddled with the timer on the stove while you waited for the food, the way you danced to your music while you did dishes, the way you preferred an endless heap of pillows on your bed. Every little quirk he watched served to drill your presence deeper into his being. You were exactly what he needed.

So pure.

Innocent enough to leave your bedroom window open in the middle of a crime surge in the only city worse than Gotham.

It gave Jason the perfect opportunity to watch you sleep, and the perfect opportunity to survey your apartment for places to set up cameras. He’d need to make sure that he had every inch of the place covered so he could watch you at all times. The last thing Jason wanted was for some criminal or other creep to breathe the same air as you.

Oh, how cute.

He looked on as you settled into bed, reaching over to your nightstand to pat the head of a tiny giraffe plushy, as if it would stand guard and protect you from all the dangers in the world. You didn’t need a stupid plushie. You had him now.

But what if you needed him and he wasn’t there? What if you left your window open every night and someone with worse intentions was there to take advantage of it? He needed to be there to protect you, to keep away all the dangers and make sure you lived like a princess. It could happen tonight if Jason wasn’t careful. He couldn’t have that.

Wind blew the curtains in your window aside, as if the world was parting the barriers that lay between you. He was just going to make sure that nobody who was less well meaning than him would take a chance to hurt you.

With the speed of years and years of training, Jason hopped from rooftop to rooftop, as quiet as a panther stalking its prey. But Jason wasn’t stalking you. No, he was helping you, making sure you were safe.

Landing on your fire escape balcony without a sound, Jason stood motionless as he peered into your bedroom, his eyes locked on your sleeping form.

You were like an angel in his eyes. Something clean and untouched. Something that he could have all to himself now that he’d found you. Jason wasn’t worried about tainting you with his red-stained hands, no, you were saving him. You had saved him.

He took the time to study your bedroom, burning each item of decor into his mind. There were so many perfect spots to put cameras, and of course, he’d brought some with him just in case. They were small, tech he had ‘borrowed’ from Bruce’s generous stockpile in the safe house he was staying at.

He could have them placed and synced back up with his computer in less than five minutes. It would be so easy he wouldn’t even wake you.

And Jason didn’t want to wake you. It wasn’t just the fact that he felt you looked so peaceful sleeping, something he would hate to disturb, it was that he wasn’t ready.

If you knew who he was, how could he guarantee your safety? Not to mention the fact that you might even try to run from him.

Like hell.

So, Jason found himself pushing the window you’d cracked open further, till he could just slip inside. Landing on the balls of his feet as he’d been trained to do a hundred times before, his presence was barely audible.

Just being in the same room as you felt like he was drunk and more alert than ever all at once. In the back of his mind, a sour voice told him to stop, to let this be the farthest he went and leave before things got out of hand. God forbid Bruce found out. But he pushed those thoughts away as quickly as they came.

Taking his time, he walked slowly around your bedroom, his eyes soaking in everything that was just you. It was impossible to resist purusing your things as he came to your dresser. Trailing his fingers across all the little decorations you had, he closed his eyes, imagining he was touching your skin instead.

He couldn’t resist opening the drawers, and nearly sank to his knees when he saw that the first one he opened was full of your panties and bras. His mask suddenly felt constricting, and he immediately noticed his breaths pick up.

“Jesus Christ.” He huffed out in a sharp breath, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Looking back over at you sleeping in the bed, it was like he had the devil on both shoulders. Without thinking long enough to regret it, he reached for the prettiest pair, pocketing it so quickly it may as well had never been there.

Jason let out a heavy sigh, but continued placing cameras in places nobody but him would think to check. He’d have to come back later to do the rest of the apartment.

After just watching you sleep for what felt like far too little time, Jason finally willed himself to turn and leave. Every fibre of his being was screaming in protest. The thought of getting to be this close to you, only to have it ripped away, was almost too much to bear. Still, he made his way back to your window. That’s when he heard it.

The sound of rustling sheets filled Jason’s expertly trained ears and his gaze snapped to the noise instantly as he froze in place, halfway out your window.

Dear god.

Where you had been snuggled cutely in your blankets, you had kicked them off to leave your lower half exposed.

Your gorgeous legs lay splayed across your bed, long and elegant. All of his senses were dialled in on the singular sight of you. His cock thrummed with heat almost instantly, his pants stretched out by his girth as his gazed strayed further.

You were wearing a pair of flimsy sleep shorts and a shirt that was far too big for you and he’d be damned if he said it wasn’t the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

With an amount of restraint he didn’t think he possessed, Jason bit his tongue, practically salivating at the sight of you. He rested his head against the window frame, halfway out of your apartment, halfway towards making a very bad decision.

He should leave. He should leave and never come back and leave you alone and stop. But he couldn’t.

Fuck it.

Refusing to spend any more time not having you, Jason pulled himself back through your window, prowling towards your bed.

He just stood there for a while like he had already, staring at the delicious curve of your ass and feeling his cock harden in his pants. If he was already going to hell for this then he would take his time savouring his sins.

But he could only hold himself back for so long.

With a quiet groan, Jason crept nearer to your side, pulling away the rest of the blankets as carefully as he could. It wasn’t that important for him to see all of you just yet. Not only was his mind only focused on one thing, but he knew he had all the time in the world to study every part of you. You were his after all.

Now that your lower half was exposed to the cool spring air, there was only one barrier keeping Jason from taking what was holding his entire soul. He prayed you were a heavy sleeper, and lowered himself to his stomach on the bed. Propped up on his elbows, there were only a few inches separating him from the only thing he wanted.

Thank god for sleep shorts.

In the back of his mind, he was already adding buying you something less revealing to his list of things to do, not wanting anyone to see you but him. But that could wait.

Taking off his mask and placing it on the floor beside your bed, he bit his tongue and gently hooked his fingers underneath your sleep shorts, pulling them to the side. All at once the breath left his lungs and he felt like his world was being tipped upside down. You didn’t wear any panties to bed.

Jason had to close his eyes for a moment in order to control his urge to wake you up and ravish you. When he opened them again, they flickered green and he zeroed in on what was making his mouth water.

Your pretty little pussy.

It was a miracle he’d gotten this far to be honest, but you didn’t seem to stir for anything. Thanking whatever force was allowing him this one pleasure, he moved closer to you and began taking what he wanted so desperately.

The moment his mouth met your pussy he nearly came in his pants.

Stopping for a second, he waited for any sign you were awake, his heart pounding in his ears. But you were still silent. Jason took this as his go ahead, but he had no intentions of stopping anyway.

He peppered kisses along your pussy, drunk on the softness of your skin and the taste of you on his lips. Everything in him was bursting with thrill, and he could barely stop himself from rutting against your bed to get some much needed friction. He wasn’t in his mind anymore, the only thing keeping him tethered to the planet was your sweet little cunt.

You began to breathe a little heavier in your sleep, your soft breathing quickly getting deeper. But Jason didn’t stop.

He couldn’t.

Not when you tasted so divine, not when your skin felt like heaven on his tounge. He moved to your clit now, his whole face practically pressed into your pussy. If he was gonna go out between your legs, it was a death he would gladly take.

He sucked on your clit, alternating between swirling his tounge around it in tight little circles and sloppily eating you out. It was getting harder and harder for Jason to control the level of noise he was making. His groans and low, rumbling growls began to fill the room. It was just you. Only you in his mind, his heart, and his soul.

Oh, fuck.

You were making these cute little noises now. Little breathy whimpers and whines were leaving your lips. With each sound that reached his ears, he felt a bit more of his control slipping.

He hadn’t even noticed he was fucking you with two fingers until you began to squirm. All at once he halted all his movement, waiting for his fun to end, but your eyes never opened. This would all just be a really good dream for you. He almost chuckled at the idea.

Certain you’d stay asleep, he buried his face in your pussy, eating you like a man starved. His fingers pumped in and out of your now slick cunt, and his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he tasted your sweetness on his tongue.

But it wasn’t enough. He needed more.

He needed to make you cum. He needed to be the one, the only one, bringing you pleasure. He wanted to feel your cum running down his face. He wanted to taste you on his tongue three days from now.

There was no point trying to contain himself anymore. He’d already jumped off the edge a long time ago. Jason pumped a third finger into you, allowing himself to grind his raging cock against your bed. The noises you were making were getting louder, and you were beginning to writhe in your sheets every time he slammed his fingers into you. He knew he’d have to be quick, but honestly, he didn’t know how much more he could take.

Taking your clit in between his teeth, he grazed the sensitive skin just enough to have you even wetter for him. Jason was desperate. All his cares, all his worries had been replace by an unending, carnal urge for you.

Only you.

He pumped his fingers faster, driving them in and out while he ate you like a man possessed. Then, he got to experience what was easily the best thing that ever happened to him.

Without warning, your needy whimpers turned into one long, high pitched whine, and your sweetness burst into Jason’s mouth. He felt like he died all over again, cumming in his pants as he groaned into your pussy, shuddering. Never once did his fingers stop, only slowing to allow himself to lap up all of your juices.

The world was quiet for a moment as he stayed hooked on your cunt, his eyes closed in bliss.

But he couldn’t stay forever.

With an insane amount of difficulty, Jason placed one more kiss on your clit, and pulled your shorts back in place. His own underwear would be ruined, and he would definitely have to wash his pants, but he couldn't have given less of a shit.

Once he was sure you’d stay asleep, he moved off the bed, coming to stand beside your now flushed face. Jason didn’t know what was worse, having to leave after tasting the best thing ever, or the fact that you’d only remember this as a dream.

Not wanting to think about anything but how full his heart felt, he leaned down and pressed a feather light kiss to your cheek.

“Sweet dreams, baby. You’re mine.” He whispered softly, as if you could hear him, and brushed a lock of your hair behind your ear.

Taking one last glance at your pretty face, he turned and crept his way out of your apartment, leaving the way he came, through the window.

He made sure to close it.

It was clear to Jason that he should be feeling shame, remorse or disgust with himself for what he just did, but the only thing on his mind was how he wanted you awake for next time. And there would be a next time.

When you awoke that morning, and the haze of sleep cleared from your mind, your focus instantly went to the wetness between your thighs. You blushed as vague memories of a rather nice dream sprung to the forefront of your thoughts.

Shaking your head, you crawled out of bed, yawning, when your eyes caught on a slightly confusing sight.

“Didn’t I leave that open?”

[flwrkid14]

Training the Bat Way (aka Bruce’s Terrible Parenting 101)

Bruce Wayne, aka the Dark Knight, aka the absolute worst, has this little training exercise that the entire family unanimously despises. He calls it “building resilience” or “preparing for the unexpected.” The rest of the family calls it Bruce’s stupid sleep-deprivation kidnapping game.

Here’s how it works: Bruce waits until you’re at your absolute lowest—after a grueling week of non-stop patrols, minimal sleep, and a near-catastrophic Gotham meltdown. Once you’ve finally collapsed into a dead sleep (and sometimes, after he’s sneakily slipped you a sedative to make sure you stay asleep), he picks you up, sticks you on a plane, and drops you off in the middle of nowhere. Sometimes it’s a remote village in the mountains; sometimes it’s the bustling heart of a city on the other side of the planet. The challenge? Find your way home.

Occasionally, Bruce will leave you with some supplies: a wallet, maybe a burner phone, a little equipment if he’s feeling generous. But more often than not, you’ll wake up with absolutely nothing. No money, no ID, no tools—just the clothes on your back and a pounding headache from whatever the hell Bruce drugged you with.

Some highlights of Bruce’s 'training' include:

• Dick waking up in the middle of Germany with nothing but his expired driver’s license and missing socks (He'd hidden cash in them, so he can only guess Bruce found it).

• Steph regaining consciousness in Iceland with a crumpled €5 euro and zero idea how to exchange it for local currency.

• Damian waking up in the middle of the Sahara Desert. No gear. No money. Nothing but sand and the distant memory of Bruce’s smug face.

• Tim once took over a month to get home from a tiny town in Thailand. By the time he made it back to Gotham, he’d created an entire fake identity, complete with forged documents, an elaborate backstory, and several new international contacts. Bruce called it “impressive.” Tim called it traumatizing.

• Cass, of course, took this completely in stride. Woke up in India, dismantled a shady criminal organization she stumbled across, and then casually returned to Gotham two days later like nothing had happened. When asked how she managed it, she just shrugged.

• Duke waking up in the Grand Canyon with his phone at 1% and a granola bar in his pocket. He got home in less than a day, having hitched a ride, bartered his way onto a train, and charmed a group of tourists into helping him. He also got himself a pet chameleon on the way, somehow.

• Jason refuses to talk about his turn, but based on the suspicious amount of diplomatic immunity he now has in several Eastern European countries, it’s safe to say he didn’t play by Bruce’s rules.

If they’re lucky, Bruce leaves them somewhere within the U.S., in which case the Wayne name might help speed up the process. But outside of the States? Forget it. Flashing a “Wayne” credit card can cause more problems than it solves (That's if they're even lucky enough to have a credit card to flash in the first place).

To the rest of the family, this whole thing is less of a “training exercise” and more of a weird, sadistic game Bruce plays when he thinks they’re getting too soft. And no matter how many times they complain, Bruce insists it’s “for their own good.” Because of course he does.

The thing is, they all do get home. Eventually. And yeah, maybe they come back stronger or sharper or whatever excuse Bruce uses to justify it. But at what cost? (Mostly their sanity and a burning hatred of international airline fees.)

Still, the Bats have learned to adapt. They’ve formed their own set of unspoken rules:

1. Always keep some emergency cash hidden somewhere on your person (And hope Bruce doesn't find it, because he will take it).

2. Never, ever fully trust that glass of water Bruce hands you after patrol.

3. And if you wake up in the middle of nowhere, the first step is simple: curse Bruce Wayne’s name as loudly and creatively as possible. Then get to work.

Because at the end of the day, they will get home. And they’ll probably sucker-punch Bruce the second they do.

[clockwayswrites]

Minx- Dinner Start

cw: implied and lightly referenced sexual acts and favors

“Well, you look like something the cat threw up.”

Jason pried one eye open just to glare at Danny as he flicked him off. It didn’t matter if Danny couldn’t see the glare, it was the principle of it all. Jason didn’t need to be told how badly he looked, not when he knew how badly he felt. He especially didn’t need to be told that by Danny who looked liked a million bucks. The black dress hugged Danny on all the right places to give him all the right curves and, impressively, the appearance of small but shapely breasts.

Danny just shrugged at the gesture. “You do.”

“And you’re lucky most people here know not to fuck with you,” Jason growled. “What are you doing walking around here looking like that?”

“There were some creeps around the lockers I keep my change of clothes in,” Danny said as he sashayed forward. The way he walked in those heels over the beat up sidewalks of the Alley was frankly impressive. “It seemed safer to come home like this than deal with those fucks. Don’t worry, I’ve got the gun you gave me.”

Jason ran his gaze down the form fitting dress again. “Where?”

Danny laughed, the sound bright and musical. It was at odds with the shit hole of a night that Jason had been through. It was nice.

“Come on, up off the wall. My place should be close enough to limp over to,” Danny said. He reached out and placed what Jason had to imagine was a gentle hand on the side of the helmet. “Unless you need the better stock of your place?”

Jason bit back a groan as he leaned up off the wall. “Not that badly hurt. It’s a lot of surface shit and bruising.”

“I can take care of that. Come on. I even have dinner waiting for us.”

“Yeah, how’d you manage that magic?” Jason asked. He followed just a step behind Danny and to his left, automatically falling in to guard him in a way that Jason tried not to think about too hard.

“With the magic of a crockpot and a rice cooker,” Danny said with a dramatic spread of his hands like he was making a rainbow. “Seriously, best two purchases that I’ve ever made. Like, I can come home to warm food and it’s good! I never thought that I could cook but this shit I can do.”

Jason hummed in acknowledgment. He couldn’t exactly do a crockpot when he didn’t know what safe hosue he might end up at, but maybe he could look into a rice cooker that he could start remotely. If he threw some precooked meat or an egg on top of the rice, that would still be better than what he at some nights when he was coming home after a long patrol.

“This one is mine,” Danny said as they got to a small, nondescript door. It was next to the entrance for a fix-it sort of shop and lead up to the second story of the battered, brick building.

Jason had already known that this one was Danny’s. He chose to not say anything about that as Danny unlocked the door and led them up the tight stairs to another door (which was to Jason’s approval also locked) and into the apartment.

Thrift store might be a better word for the place. There was a lot of stuff with no clear sense of style or theme. Hell, Jason wasn’t even completely sure what room they were standing in right then.

“Go sit on the couch,” Danny said.

“I would if I could see the damn thing,” Jason replied.

Danny rolled his eyes as he brought a foot up to start to undo the dangerous footwear. “Behind the potted plants. It’s yellow, you can hardly miss it.”

“You say that, but,” Jason said, mostly to be an ass, as he headed that way. He stopped short of the very yellow couch to stare at the wall and the large, neon skull that adorned it. “Didn’t that used to be up Vic’s bar?”

Danny smirked at him as he passed by. “You can’t prove it’s the same one.”

“I can. I mean, you know that, right?” Jason called after Danny as he disappeared through a door that he didn’t bother closing. “I could, in fact, prove it is the same one.”

“But you won’t!”

Jason sighed. But he wouldn’t. “How did you even get it here in one piece?”

“Carefully and with a few blow job IOUs,” Danny said casually. After a beat he added, “You know, I don’t think Leo ever cashed in on his? Oh well, he’s happily married now.”

Not really knowing what to say back to that, Jason sat down on the edge of the couch and started to undo his boots. He set the second one aside just in time to look up as Danny finished pulling on some black leggings up over strawberry patterned underwear. Jason glanced aside quickly.

He hardly had an issue with nudity— not after years of fighting crime with family or training with assassins— but there was something so much more intimate about it in the soft neon light of Danny’s apartment. Focusing on taking of the bulkiest parts of his own armor seemed safer than looking up again.

--- AN: Words are... not my friend today, so not sure if I'll get anything for Trauma Tuesday done. So have this it of Minx I wrote more of last night! Stay delightful, darlings.

[loveinhawkins]

a cherished headcanon I keep coming back to is that Eddie is very much invested in the school basketball team right up until the graduating class of ‘85 leaves. By an incredible series of mental gymnastics, he tries to convince himself that this has nothing to do with Steve Harrington’s presence on the team.

(And maybe Eddie avoiding the championship game of ‘86 in the near future will have more to do with Jason Carver being on the team, but that’s a sadder story for another time.)

The thing Eddie can easily admit he loves about the bigger games is the fleeting anonymity: while he’s got notoriety in Hawkins High, as soon as there’s a rival school involved he can blend into the crowd for a couple hours, lost in the roar of support.

It’s nearing the end of just such a tournament game when the ball accidentally goes flying into the crowd. Eddie’s reflexes kick in and he manages to catch it before it can take out the back row of the marching band.

The clock’s been stopped for a timeout—a kid on the rival team is injured—so more eyes are drawn to Eddie than normal as they find where the ball ended up. He feels acutely like a spotlight’s on him—holds the ball to his chest almost like he’s a part of the game himself.

A whistle cuts across the court. Steve Harrington.

He’s looking right at Eddie, raising his hands for the ball.

He has more than enough time to say something, some jeer that would well and truly break the spell of anonymity. But Eddie knows underneath the knee jerk worry that it’s not Steve’s style; it’s more the kind of thing Billy Hargrove and his ilk would do, and he’d thankfully been benched at halftime.

Eddie inhales then throws the ball, praying that he doesn’t end up smacking Steve in the face.

He doesn’t, thank God; Steve catches the ball smoothly, manages a thumbs up in thanks before the spotlight shifts back onto the game.

Eddie quietly sighs in relief, loses himself in cheering again.

They don’t win, but it’s still a good game. It’s like Eddie’s reasoning for campaigns: not everything needs to be an all-out victory for it to be entertaining.

The parking lot is a nightmare so he contents himself with waiting it out by his van while the worst of the crowds clear. It’s only when he hears a car door opening and closing nearby that he realises Steve is parked right next to him. Of course, of course he—

“Good catch back there, Munson,” Steve says, tossing his gym bag into his car. He notices something on one of the seats—Eddie can’t tell what it is, but he hears Steve mutter under his breath in benign exasperation, something about, “Dickheads, I keep telling them not to…”

“Yeah, thanks. All my years of training finally paid off.”

Steve makes a face at the build up of cars, chatting parents leaning out of their windows. “You could’ve been on the sub-team.”

“Kinda resent that you don’t think I’m star player material, Harrington.”

There’s the beginnings of a grin on Steve’s face. He has no right looking that smug for someone who’s just lost a game, Eddie thinks.

“Dude, I can hear you. You’re loud.”

Eddie wills his face not to flush. “You’ve got no proof.”

“Nah, just firsthand experience.”

“What, do you have ears like a bat?”

“Nope. Don’t need that to pick you out.” Steve chuckles to himself as he gets in the car, sits side-on to face Eddie as he speaks. “You’re worse than Tammy Thompson’s singing.”

“Uncalled for,” Eddie says, firmly locking away the part of his brain that’s screaming in embarrassment, because if he’s unable to fire off a comeback, he’ll actually never recover; he might as well go and tell Higgins that next year is already a wash, because he has to go and live in the woods—

“Hey, c’mon Munson, I didn’t say it was bad.”

“You implied it,” Eddie says, totally overselling the entire thing, like he’s been greviously wounded.

It works; Steve laughs, shakes his head.

“I didn’t,” he insists as he reverses out of his space. “I just meant it’s… distinctive.”

“Wow. Thank you.”

“That’s your whole shtick, man, don’t act like that wasn’t a compliment.”

“Sure. Eddie ‘Distinctive’ Munson, that’s me.”

And post-game sentiment must be in the air, because as Steve leaves the parking lot, he calls out the car window, bright and teasing, “Hey, maybe I’ll miss the cheering!”

But Eddie can’t be sure. Unlike Steve, he might be mishearing things.

[deadsetobsessions]

Alley Drunk!Danny pt.5

If Danny hadn’t thought about quitting and going to rehab before, he’s definitely going to do it now.

It had been one of those days. Danny had sluggishly managed to usher Jason to school- pulling himself together for their walk to the building, because he wasn’t stupid and this was still Gotham- before going home and relapsing. He knew, going into the first bottle, that he was going to regret it. But he still hadn’t felt the buzz, so he went out to get more.

“Just one. I can stop after, if I want to.”

Spoiler: he could not, actually, stop if he wanted to. Because he didn’t want to, which was the whole problem.

So, one bottle became two, two became three, three became six, and by the time the sun slipped below the horizon, Danny had a pile of bottles scattered around the couch and an intense look of self hatred set upon his brow. He was buzzed, but his stupid ghost biology refused to absorb anymore alcohol.

“Stop brooding, Danny. It’ll hurt your brain.” Jazz said, a hint of worry around her joking insult. “You’re forgetting something important.”

“Wha-?” He mumbled out back at the haze of her-hah- ghost.

The door clicked open. Danny whipped his head to wards the door, snarl on his face and ready to lunge at the intruder, when he came face to face with a scuffed up Jason.

They froze simultaneously, but before Danny could do anything, Jason’s hands tightened on the door knob. The kid’s eyes darted to the floor, where the bottles laid, and back up at Danny’s face. What he found there must not have been good, because he took a step back.

It was fear.

Danny felt his heart drop and his throat go dry. The self hatred doubled in size and weight, but he smacked it down in favor of scrambling for the words- anything- to fix the damage his stupidity and addiction caused.

“Jason.” He said, voice raspy. Had he been screaming again? Good start, good- nope. Never mind, Jason is using the door to shield himself now. Danny glanced outside and-

“Oh. I- I didn’t realize it had gotten so late.” He turned back to Jason, who eyed him warily. “I- I forgot to pick you, didn’t I.”

“…I can walk back by myself.” The hesitant but full of bravado reply made Danny’s ghostly obsession to protect rear its head.

“Still. I’m… I’m sorry, Jason.”

Jason evaluated him, noticeably eyeing his open hands and purposefully lax posture, before stepping inside. He doesn’t close the door behind him- clearly leaving it as an option just in case he needed to bolt. Danny stood up slowly. Jason watched him, and his hands. His smaller hands- Ancients, Danny was scaring a kid- curled up into fists.

“What… how did you get hurt?”

“Got mugged.”

“Are you okay? No- wait,” Danny flooded his liver and blood stream with ectoplasm, and his head instantly cleared. Ah, the agony of being coherent.

Danny subtly shook his head to clear his thoughts. Focus.

“Of course you’re not.” Danny stepped away from the incriminating bottles, slowing to a stop once more as Jason shifted backwards like he was either going to spring at Danny or bolt out the door. “Why don’t we get you patched up? And you can tell me about your day. That I missed, when I forgot to pick you up and that I’m really really sorry for.”

Danny held his breath as Jason considered it. “Are ya drunk?” Jason asked, tilting his shoulder to slide his Wonder Woman backpack down, hand clutching at the opposite strap. A good bludgeoning weapon, even if Danny would rather be electro shocked to death again before he ever hurt Jason.

“No.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, scoffing as he looked down again. Danny recognized the motion, a bolt of heavy nostalgia slamming into his chest as he remembered another red-head doing the same thing when he tried to bullshit his way out of something.

“I was buzzed but… I’m a meta. Alcohol doesn’t exactly affect me. I had to drink a lot to even get buzzed, and it’s gone now.”

“Y’er a meta?” Jason straightened, not completely losing the vigilance, but less tense.

“Yes. I’m completely sober right now, I promise.”

Jason stared at him, inhaled, and relaxed. “You better be.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Whatever.”

——

Danny placed the bandages over Jason’s cuts.

“I am so, so sorry I didn’t pick you up.”

Jason shoved at his shoulder, grumbling “I c’n do it myself.”

“I know. You don’t have to, though.”

The kid looked away for a moment before softly admitting, “I was… worried. Cuz, I thought somethin’ happened.”

Danny swallowed the lump in his throat. Jason slipped more into his alley accent the more upset he got these days, having learned some of the local accents at his new school and regularly swapping those out instead of sticking with his alley accent.

“Thank you. For worrying about me. I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not.”

Point. From the mouth of babes came the painful truth, right?

“No. I’m not. But I will be. I’ll go to rehab, Jason. I don’t want to forget picking you up again.”

“Whatever.” Danny hid a smile as Jason ducked his head, looking endearingly like a grumpy duckling. Like, Jazz, when their parents made those blueberry ectoplasm pancakes she liked but thought they’d forgotten that she liked.

“And thank you, Jason, for coming back alive. I- I should have been there, but I’m so glad that you’re okay.”

“I want waffles and ice cream for dinner.”

“Yeah, we can do that.”

“Wow, you musta felt real bad if you’re letting me eat that for dinner.”

Danny grinned down at the head of black hair (with their red roots once more poking out) and ruffled Jason’s head. “I let you eat like five chili dogs in one go. This should not be surprising. But I’ll let you skip the veggies today too.”

“… No, I want the veggies too.”

Danny let out a bark of bright laughter.

Yeah, there’s no way he’s ever risking Jason looking at him like that again. The kid looked like he thought Danny would come swinging at him, despite their previous meetings where he had, perhaps and with plausible deniability, swung for Jason, but never against him.

That night, after he tucked Jason into bed, Danny signed up for rehab. As a matter of fact, Jazz’s words coming into mind, Danny also signed up for therapy. For him and Jason. Yeah.

——

Off camera, they talked about why Jason react to bottles and hands the way he does, and why he’s so scared whenever Danny slips back into his addiction. I’m just rlly too tired to write it.

——

Danny, who thought his addiction wasn’t that serious and that he could stop anytime because he stopped for Jason: I’m cured!

Also Danny: drinks as soon as Jason goes to school

Danny was one hundred percent using Jason as a crutch and when he felt like Jason was safe, he slipped back to his habits. The only reason Danny’s not dead- well, deader than he normally would be- is because ghost biology makes it so that alcohol is cycled through quicker. Like the Flash, but less fast? Anyways, he had enough to make him lose track of time and forget important things (Jason) and that’s what addiction can do to you, amongst other things.

Jason might seem calm but that’s actually a combo of his go to trauma response (fight) and his experience of 1) being on the streets and 2) living with a previous drunkard coming into play. Also, you might be like what kind of kid wants to eat veggies? And to that I answer: KIDS THAT NEVER HAD ENOUGH TO EAT. I would have killed for a veggie stir fry with a lot of chicken back as a kid lol

On a lighter note, the whole time they’re having this interaction, I kind of imagined it as two chickens just kind of dancing around each other.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for RaineyDay behind the cut; "Smallville does not approve of Clark Kent’s parenting style". (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Unfortunately, this particular drive he’s apparently going to be spending trying to figure out what the hell Conner did to set off Cathy Mueller bad enough to take it out on him, because sure as hell the kid isn’t going to just tell him, and also because he doesn’t want that coming back on Ma and Pa. If Cathy’s this mad at him when he hasn’t even been in town for a good two months or so, he can’t even imagine how she would’ve reacted to them showing up at the store, given they’re the ones Conner actually lives with. 

It’s–difficult to figure out, unfortunately. Especially because he swears Conner talks to him less and less these days even though if anything Clark actually sees him more. The kid’s still upset over being “stuck” in Smallville or the Titans situation, he supposes, which . . . well, he’s a teenager. Clark hadn’t wanted to interfere in his life like that, but . . . well, it’d been necessary at the time. But if Conner’s acting up about it or taking his frustrations out at school . . . 

Clark doesn’t even know what he’s supposed to do about that, actually. Talk to him about it, he supposes, but that always feels so damn awkward. Conner never really seems to respond well to it or really understand the point he’s making anyway. Especially lately, because every time Clark’s tried to talk to Conner about problem behavior since he moved out here, the kid either sits there like a sullen brick wall or gets his back up and starts snapping at him. It’s just not . . . productive, really. 

Clark doesn’t remember being like that as a kid, when a teacher or coach or just any adult in his life had told him that he was doing something wrong. He’d gotten upset at adults who’d had unreasonable or unfair expectations or just hadn’t known what they were talking about, yes, or ones who’d refused to listen to his side of things, but not ones who’d just been offering basic life advice or correcting a misstep. He’d definitely never made trouble for Ma and Pa because he’d decided to act out around town, cheerleaders or not. And definitely hadn’t done any deliberate property destruction, since obviously that’s still on the table too. 

He just doesn’t understand the kid, sometimes. Or–most of the time, really. He genuinely cannot think of a single kid who’s ever been in his life that was so hard to just talk to, across literally every single age range. Jimmy was only a couple of years older than Conner when he first met him; Dick was half his age. Jason–well, he didn’t know Jason as well, but he was younger than Conner too and the poor kid got himself killed while acting out less than Conner tends to. Tim’s polite to a fault, and Damian . . . well, Damian’s a bit difficult, but you just have to be sure to approach things from his perspective. There’s never been a sidekick or a Titan or any teenage hero in the community that was any worse than a civilian teenager just trying to figure themselves out, but talking to Conner is just . . . 

He just doesn’t understand why Conner always makes it so damn hard to just talk to him. The kid’s more stubborn and less willing to listen and more unpredictable than some supervillains Clark’s known, or at least it feels that way. Even after a good two or three years of knowing each other, Clark never really knows what’s going to set him off, it’s–actually, it’s closer to four years now, isn’t it. 

Well . . . Conner was about fifteen or sixteen when he’d met him in Metropolis; he’d spent a while in Hawaii and the Wild Lands, and then a while with Cadmus, and then a few months back in Metropolis where he’d managed to get the entire apartment building he was living in destroyed, so . . . closer to four, yes. And at least a year of that he wasn’t actually aging for, and essentially none of it he’d spent in school, so when Clark had been getting papers set up for the kid he’d just written him down as “seventeen” and made up some excuse about his previous guardians home-schooling him. The school had given him a few assessment tests and placed him as a junior–which honestly had been better than Clark would’ve expected considering Conner’s patchwork education–and Clark had left all the necessary forged paperwork with Ma and Pa and assumed Conner would know better than to make trouble for them.

Given the amount of times the kid’s played hooky already, probably he should’ve expected a situation like whatever’s got Cathy Mueller in a twist to come up by now, Clark has to admit. 

The drive, in the end, is not particularly good for clearing his head. 

[leth-writes]

yandere Tim Drake x meta reader part two

summary: we find out more about what life is like now for the reader.

Warnings: The usual for my blog!

Tim had luminous green eyes. They were the most sickly green, almost glowing, you’d ever seen, pale and round and sunken into his skin like you could see the skull beneath his skin. It was like he was secretly a corspe walking around, without a soul. Sometimes you did think he didn’t have a soul.

Tim had basically changed your life completely in the span of a week. He was still the only one in the general population who could really see you, but he introduced you to his family, the Waynes, who were all able to see you as well, though none as clearly as Tim could. It was like there was something in the water that transformed their reasoning and observational abilities; you couldn’t even sneak down to the kitchen to grab a bite to eat without Alfred, the tall, lean family butler, greeting you. Though, most didn’t look you in the eyes. You thought it was because they had noticed how uncomfortable you got at direct eye contact, though Tim continued to stare into your eyes like he was trying to yank your soul out through your face. It was stressful, but you didn’t have any choice; you owed him. He’d got his dad to practically adopt you, letting you stay in the manor and giving you a whole host of things you hadn’t seen since you were a child, including the softest blanket you’d ever felt, and Bruce had gotten you a private tutor named Jonn, who was also able to see you. Jonn’s presence was a soothing balm on your frayed nerves, though you were loathe to admit that Tim was the cause of your anxiety. There was just something about him, afterall.

You had a new family, and things you could leave in your room without worrying they’d get stolen, and cute clothes, and a tutor… it was a better life than you’d ever had before. Yet, you felt guilty. Weren’t you taking too much? So, you approached Jonn one day, asking him to create a bracelet that would limit your abilities and let you be seen. It was the only way to be able to get a normal life and pay back your generous benefactors, though they insisted they didn’t need the gesture of kindness.

Jonn had complied; afterall, it wasn’t too hard to create one off of pre-existing schematics that were commonly used for cases similar to yours. He had gifted it to you in front of the entire family, who clapped and congratulated you. All except Tim, who leant in the corner with his arms crossed, looking out the window with those distant green eyes.

It had only been a week since you got the bracelet when it first went missing. You searched everywhere, high and low, including getting the others in on the search, to no avail. You had only the family bedrooms left to search, though you’d have to be quick. In and out, quick as you could manage, you searched Jason, Dick, and Damian’s rooms. Then you crossed over and searched Bruce and Cass’s rooms. Finally, you knocked on Tim’s door. It was just a formality at this point, you couldn’t imagine him misplacing it. Faced with no response, you opened the door. And spotted the box.

You’d never seen this box before. It was plain, nondescript. A faded grey, it looked slightly aged and well-loved. Pulling off the lid, you found photos. dozens and dozens of photos. Most were of you, though a few were of Tim’s other family members. Dick, Jason, even Bruce all made appearances, clearly going back years before you’d ever met. Hell, some seemed to be from before Jason had even joined the family, and well before Tim had met the Waynes or lost his parents. How did he get these? There were pictures of you sleeping, walking, breaking into buildings and the school library, even changing… most were from before you’d ever met Tim. Underneath it all was your bracelet, pulled apart into small wires and bits.

“Oh, you’ve found the box,” Bruce’s voice rang out from behind you. You whirled around, watching as he shut and locked Tim’s door, staring at you with a clear, blank expression you’d never seen on his normally joyful face. “It’s Tim’s?” You replied, voice trembling.

He sighed, leaning against the door and crossing his arms. “Yes, it belongs to Tim. I know it seems creepy, but you have to understand… Tim isn’t like us. He doesn’t experience emotion in the same way we do, he never learned the normal boundaries of relationships, growing up the way he did. He uses his camera as a way to capture us, to keep us with him, it’s his way of keeping us safe when he can’t act.”

“They’re from before he met me.” You said, voice hard and cold.

“Yes. Tim tends to stake out anyone he finds particularly interesting. That’s why most of the photos are so old. Think of it as his way of doing research. He feels the need to build our family by snatching up people he thinks of as his, moving around the pieces of our lives until we can be safetly integrated. It’s not so bad, you get used to it.” He continued.

“My parents…” You began, almost too afraid to ask.

“Yes. He planted the idea of a surprise move, a new start. They were being haunted by the ghost of a child they’d never known, and Tim needed a way to get you into position. He’s got a very strategic mind.” Bruce supplied, once again adopting that soft smile you’d grown used to. “Don’t worry, he only does it because he cares. You should see what he does to his enemies…”.

Tim Drake saw you in a way no one else had before.

[sunnie-angel]

Part 6: The Mistake

part 5 | series masterlist | ao3 link

jason todd x f!reader

summary: jason flees the aftermath of your night together

tags: angst, jason todd’s usual poor self esteem issues, off screen violence

rated explicit (mdni) | wc: 1.1k

Jason is freaking the fuck out. He’s literally just fucked up the one bright spot in his life and he has no idea how to fix this. His first mistake was beating that masked asshole up instead of quietly letting him rob the two of you. He’s got a civilian identity for a reason and he’d blown it all to hell because he didn’t like the way that fuckhead had looked at you. The way his gun had swung from Jason to you when you were struggling with the clasp of your necklace. All he had known in that moment was that there was a couple in an alleyway, a man with a gun, and a pretty pearl necklace. The only thing missing was a little boy to watch on in horror.

His second mistake was taking you home. It was a stupid, rookie mistake, the kind he hadn’t made even as Robin. He had panicked at your blank stare and violent shivering, and your home had only been the next building over. Of course he had known the code to your building. Of course he had known which apartment was yours. He’s spent enough time staring longingly through it’s window. Jason just hadn’t expected your terror to abate long enough to realize just how strange the whole situation was. 

His next mistake had been kissing you back. Scratch that, it had been blurting out the truth of his identity. Revealing to you of all people that Jason Todd is nothing more than an ill fitting suit of clothes for the Red Hood to move through the world in. He’d been so fucking stupid. There’s going to be repercussions for that. There’s going to be repercussions for all of his mistakes. He should have known this wouldn’t work, that he wasn’t fashioned for any life but violence. 

Jason curses, fingers angrily crushing the cigarette held between them. The wind is cold, cutting across the rooftop and digging its fingers under the collar of his shirt. He lets it, embracing the grounding sting of the cold. His position on the roof of the building opposite yours and has a perfect vantage point of your window. You still lie in bed, curled around the shape of his missing body. He shouldn’t have kissed you. The blanket slips off your shoulder as you turn in your sleep and Jason has to swallow through a suddenly dry throat. If he closes his eyes, he can still taste you. Feel the warmth of you under him, the tight vice of you around him. Jason savours the memory of last night because it’s the only time he’s going to let it happen. He should have pushed you away because he’d known better. But you had asked, and Jason had known exactly what it felt like when your skin got too tight and you can barely think except to make that feeling stop.  So he had kissed you again and been lost. 

You start to stir, sleep weighing your limbs down. Jason’s never seen anything more beautiful. You stretch an arm out, reaching out for something that isn’t there.  He realizes who you’re looking for a moment before you freeze. Jason can’t hear you, not from up here, but he swears he hears you call his name anyway. The answering silence of your apartment must echo because it rings in his ears too. Your shoulders tense and then start shaking, arms coming to wrap around your knees. The sight sends a curl of something awful and acidic down his throat. 

In his pocket, his phone starts to vibrate. His knuckles go white. It stops vibrating. He manages one heavy sigh before it starts buzzing again. He pulls it out but lets it go to voicemail anyway. Leaving was another mistake too, and he’s not sure he’s ready yet to face up to everything he’s done wrong. 

“Jason? Look, it’s me,” your voice wobbles and he hates the way his name sounds. “ Like I know we didn’t make any promises, or talk about things at all really. But I woke up and... and you weren’t there.  You’re not here.” There’s a heavy breath on the line. "Can you– can you just call me back? Please? 'M not gonna beg, but can we just talk? Or, or something. Is this about the Red Hood thing? ‘Cause I’m not gonna tell, God who would I even tell without getting myself arrested too? Just... Jesus what the fuck Jason? Because I thought– I thought we were actually friends at least. Just, what the fuck was that.” 

The recording ends abruptly and Jason watches you throw your phone onto the bed. This anger, this frustration feels different. More private. There’s already a sickness lurking in his gut, he doesn’t need to add to it by intruding on this moment. He leaves that rooftop and all it’s flavours of betrayal behind him. He’s fucked up enough in the past 24 hours to know that this would be another mistake. 

The thing is, Jason doesn’t know if this is fixable. If he is fixable. He refuses to settle you with the burdens of him because one day it’ll drive you away. He knows that he won’t survive breaking you but watching you walk away one day will break him. So he’ll destroy his own heart now, instead of letting the inevitable happen. He can live with setting this tender thing between you on fire if it means he gets to keep you. If he’ll never have to wait for the day you’ll discover the truth of him and leave with disgust in your eyes. No, better to make the break early before he becomes too addicted to your approval. So he’ll swallow down the words he wants to say until he chokes on them. He’ll– he’ll make it up to you in any way he can, but this, this is the one thing he can’t give you.

Jason doesn’t answer your voicemail for another day. He needs every minute of that time to convince himself of what he knows needs to do. It hurts. If his heart wasn’t kept artificially beating by whatever toxic sludge the Lazarus Pit was made of, he’s sure his heart would have stopped from longing at least five times over. It becomes a little easier to remember the rules and why he’s put them in place when he’s standing in a warehouse full of dead bodies and staring down the disappointed faces of his former family. Maybe he went a little overboard, let the heart sickness in him bleed out onto his fists, but these were men who were going to die anyway. Had to die or else Black Mask wouldn’t get the warning about encroaching on his territory. There’s new stakes, keeping those under his protection safe, because now you’re one of his in so many ways.  

Time is ticking away and the longer he leaves things unsettled, the slimmer his chances of having any part of you at all. He clears his throat and picks up the phone.

part 7

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 28

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, NSFW, MDNI, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings/labels: brief description of vigilante medical procedures, fluff, smut, oral sex (female receiving), vaguely femdom vibes, Jason has a mommy kink, female orgasm

wc: 3.5k

Chapter Selection

My last day at the diner came and went. I hadn't expected much, but leaving like it was any other day felt so anticlimactic. The manager barely nodded to me on my way out. I dropped my uniform off in the office, headed out, and hopped on the bus.

Jason: Hey doll, what time will you be home?

4:30pm

Me: 20 minutes or so. Why?

4:33pm

Jason: Got a surprise for you, to celebrate!

4:34pm

Me: Aww, babe! :) You didn't have to!

4:35pm

Jason: Course I did! 😚

4:37pm

Me: 😘

4:38pm

I got off the bus at my stop; Steph grinned when she saw me and hopped off the bus bench to hug me. “There you are! Congrats on your last day!”

I laughed, leading the way to my apartment. “Thanks! You know about this surprise then?”

“Of course I do! I'm here to help you get ready.” She beamed, following me into my building.

“Ok … so what kind of surprise is this? Should I eat before we go, or will there be food there?” We trudged up the stairs to my floor, and I opened the door.

“There will be food. You've got time for a quick shower if you want one, and then it's time to get ready!”

I nodded, tossing my purse on the couch. “Great, and I'm assuming you'll want to pick an outfit for me?”

“Yep! Bedroom's through here?” She walked into my room and threw my closet open.

“Make yourself at home I guess.” I chuckled; “I think I will shower. There's some juice in the fridge if you want a drink. Glasses are above the microwave.”

“Thanks!” She called out, going through my clothes while I tucked into the bathroom to shower. “... You don't own enough red!”

I laughed harder at that; “oh I don't, huh? … I take it Jace likes seeing me in his color?”

“Of course he does! It marks his … territory … oohhhh~” she giggled, popping her arm into the bathroom. In her hand was a red and black lace lingerie set I'd bought recently; “is this for a particular occasion, or can I insist you wear it tonight?”

I coughed, trying to sound casual; “I ... I just liked it I guess?”

“Uh-huh … Jay's gonna lose his mind when he sees it~”

I chuckled softly; “Steph, do you really want to talk about this?”

“Why not?”

“... He's your brother?? Isn't that weird for you?”

“Hun, you know we're not really related, right? Besides, I'm an honorary member of the family at best.” She giggled. 

“... Ok.” I shrugged.

 “Yeah. So, … this set; yes to wearing it tonight?”

I slowly nodded; “yeah, that's fine.”

“Excellent. Now shower.” She waved me off, and I closed the door before hopping in the shower.

When I got out, she had selected a red silky top and a pair of black pants for me to wear, and had changed into a nice purple dress of her own. I got dressed, and we did our hair and makeup before heading down to the parking lot where she pulled me along to a black car.

“Are you going to tell me where we're going yet?”

“Nope!” She giggled, turning the radio up; “just sit back and enjoy the ride!”

I shrugged, texting Jason to let him know we were leaving the apartment. He sent back a thumbs up, and Steph drove through the city. We crossed the train tracks, heading into a nicer part of town, and eventually she parked in a shopping district. She led me down a walking path and into a Chinese restaurant, where the hostess took us back to a private room.

I felt my cheeks turning pink when the hostess opened the door; our friends were all around a table, laughing and talking. Stella’s head shot up as the door opened. She beamed, jumping up to pull me into a hug; “there she is! I was starting to think you'd never show up!”

Dick grinned from his seat; “hey! How's your last day in the service industry feelin’?”

“Woah!” I grinned, hugging Stella back. “Hey Stell! It’s a bit unreal, honestly.”

There were several hugs and chattered congratulations until Damian grabbed ahold of my arm and pulled me into the seat between him and Jason. “Let her breathe, everyone.”

His hand lingered on mine for a moment and I gently squeezed it. “Hey kiddo! Did you have a good day?”

He nodded once, squeezing back before releasing me. Jason gently rubbed my back, smiling softly. “Good surprise?”

I smiled brightly, kissing his cheek; “very good surprise! Thank you, Jay~”

Servers began bringing several large family style plates, and everyone started taking what they wanted. We ate and talked, basking in the joy of being together. Stella became fast friends with Steph and Duke; they were almost in their own world on the other side of the table. Once we were mostly done with dinner, Babs wheeled over to offer me a small box.

“Gift time!” She smiled brightly.

“You guys got me gifts too?” I blushed a bit, grinning.

“You’re going into medical school, of course we got you gifts!” Steph grinned.

“Just a few things, to help with school.” Jason smiled softly. I opened the box, grinning.

“That's the newest WayneTech phone - most secure system with the fastest processor on the market!” Babs smiled brightly. Her meaning was clear to me; Bruce had promised me a secured device for everyone to get in contact with me when they needed medical assistance. Clearly Babs had set something up in this new phone.

“Thanks Babs!” I grinned, hugging her.

She hugged back, whispering; “we'll go over everything later.”

Tim and Dick pushed a box into my hands next; a brand new laptop. They assured me it would be perfect for my school needs, and Tim started rambling about its many top of the line selling points. I chuckled, giving them both a quick hug and thanking them. Stella offered me a gift bag next, beaming. She'd bought me a pair of safety toe nurses shoes; comfortable and professional, but still cute! Stephanie and Duke gave me a gorgeous leather messenger bag. Damian and Cass gave me an electronic notebook that would transfer my handwritten notes to a file on my new laptop. Finally, Jason offered me a jewelry box. I kissed him softly before opening it. Inside was a gold necklace with a garnet pendant.

I gasped softly, looking up at him; “Jay, it's beautiful! Thank you~”

Dick chuckled playfully; “oh, I see. The rest of us are told ‘bring practical gifts' all so you can show off with something pretty.”

Jason smirked a bit. “Tim got you jewelry for the gala. It was about time I get you something beautiful too.” I held my hair out of the way while he helped me put the necklace on, kissing my shoulder when he was done.

Stella cooed at that, making me blush a bit. “Awww, that's so cute~”

“Did you ever get that jewelry back, by the way?” Dick frowned a bit. I nodded, admiring the way the pendant sparkled between my breasts.

“Yep. Like … a month later.”

Jason chuckled, stroking my hair gently; “now you've got a necklace to match.”

Tim hesitantly smiled; “so … you're not still mad about that?”

“Don't push your luck.” Jason instantly shot a sharp look in his direction. I shushed him gently, squeezing his hand. I kissed his knuckles, delighting in the pink flush that spread across his cheeks. After a sigh, he leaned against me, smiling softly.

“You all have been so wonderful to me, thank you!” I smiled brightly at the group. Everyone grinned, each assuring me that it was nothing. Dessert and tea was brought out for us, Jason paid the bill when it came, and I got more hugs and congratulations as we all made our way to the parking lot. I saw Stephanie and Stella exchange phone numbers before going their separate ways. I followed Jay to his car, hugging his arm. Damian helped us carry my gifts, giving me a quick hug before running off to hop in the car with Duke and Cass.

“Tonight was wonderful. … You're amazing, baby, you know that?” I grinned, leaning against Jason happily.

He chuckled softly, opening my door for me; “what was it you said at the gala? … 'the bar is on the floor'?”

I chuckled, sliding into my seat. “You gonna fix that for me?”

He smirked softly, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to my lips. He pulled back ever so slightly, whispering; “that’s a promise~”

Jason got in the car, driving back to my apartment. After a while, his hand slid from the steering wheel to my knee.

“I do have two more gift ideas to discuss with you, now that we're alone.”

I chuckled softly; “oh my. What kind of gifts would require a discussion?”

“Well, these are kinda … bigger. But I think it's a good time for them, if you're interested.”

“Ok, I'm listening?” I gently squeezed his hand on my knee. He squeezed back, smiling a bit.

“Well, first I was thinking ‘how are you going to get to GU? It's on the other side of the city.’ And while I would be happy to take you to school every day, something tells me you're going to insist on taking the bus most of the time.”

I nodded. “The bus works just fine; there's no reason for you to spend that much time driving me around after patrolling all night when we have a perfectly good bus system.”

“Right. But I checked - it's an hour ride each way. And you're the primary contact for Damian's school now. His school isn't near a bus stop. What if you need to pick him up? And how are you gonna get to those PTA meetings?”

I frowned. “I know. It's a bit of a walk, but it's not terrible. I'll make it work.”

“Well, if you're interested, I could teach you how to drive. And when you've got your license I'll get you a bike or a car, whatever you prefer. That way you don't have to ‘make it work', you can just do what you need to do.”

I blinked a bit. “... Woah. … Jay, that's … a lot.”

“I know. That's why I didn't bring it up with the others. It's just something for you to consider. You don't have to decide right now.” He squeezed my hand, bringing it to his lips; “I just want you to have the option.”

I nodded, smiling softly. “Thank you, Jason. I'll think about it. … You said there were two gifts we had to discuss?”

He nodded. “Right. The other is a bit more complicated. … I … don't like when I have to go home alone anymore. I like spending the night at your place, or having you at mine. I like waking up with you in my arms, and making breakfast, and watching TV together in the evenings, and knowing you're safe cause you're right there in the room with me…”

I blinked a bit, grinning. “Are you … asking to move in with me?”

“Well, yes and no … if you want to stay where you are, then yes. But Damian also comes over most weekends, and … frankly, I don't love sharing the bed with him all the time. I wanna cuddle my girl, or … you know, other stuff, and I can't cause the fricken demon child is right there…” he frowned a bit, “so, if you're open to it, maybe we could look at new places? Bigger places.”

I grinned, squeezing his hand tighter. “Y- yeah, that sounds nice! … We'd probably need a minimum of three bedrooms…”

He grinned and nodded. “Three?”

“One for us, one for Damian, and one for the clinic. If I have to dig bullets out of someone's body, or set a broken bone, or who knows what else, I’d probably want them spending the night so I can monitor them.”

He nodded. “Good call, so three or four bedrooms, maybe we should be looking at houses? It'll be a lot easier to hide random visitors popping in and out at odd hours in a house rather than try to justify them climbing through an apartment fire escape.”

I nodded, grinning. “Yeah, definitely. Unless someone looks too close, it'll just look like we're college kids constantly having friends over. Plus, having a garage would be nice.”

Jason nodded, parking at my apartment. He cupped my cheek, grinning. “You're really interested?”

I nodded, kissing him gently. “Of course I am, baby~ I don't like sleeping without you next to me anymore either.”

He beamed, kissing back. “Thank god for that…”

I giggled, rubbing the tips of our noses together. “You were worried?”

“Just … it's a big step, and we hadn't discussed anything like this yet.”

I smiled softly, kissing him again. “I choose you, forever. Of course I want to live with you~ If you want, you can stay at mine until we have a place that's ours, or I can come live with you. It doesn't matter to me, as long as it's us.”

Jason grinned, kissing back before getting out of the car. I gathered my presents from the trunk and he scooped me up, carrying me up the stairs to the apartment. I wrapped my arms around his neck, giggling softly. Inside, he let me down in the bedroom, nuzzling my neck.

I set the boxes on my bedside table and turned back to him, kissing him softly; “... Think you can help me out of this?”

He tilted his head, blinking a bit. Nothing about my outfit required assistance to remove, and he definitely knew it, but he slowly nodded anyway. “Um ... Sure?”

His hands slid down my sides to the hem of my shirt, sliding under it to pull the shirt over my head. “Why am I …. Ohhhhh…”

He grinned, cheeks turning bright pink as he stared at my red lace bra. His eyes flickered between mine and my chest, dropping the shirt in an unceremonious heap on the floor. His hands shook as he pulled my hips against his. “... Fuck, ma~ … God, you’re stunning … Red is such a great color on you.”

I grinned, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. “Glad you approve~ but you're not done, pretty boy~”

“... Huh?” He didn’t seem to be fully aware of anything anymore. He was just staring at my chest, a little grin on his face.

 I giggled softly. Pressing two fingertips to the underside of his chin, I slowly tilted his face up to meet my eyes; “the pants too, please?~”

In an instant they were pooling around my feet, and Jason was on his knees in front of me. He groaned softly, eyes wide as he stared up at me in awe. “... Th- they match…”

I giggled, running my fingers through his hair. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment as he tilted his head against my hand.

“Thank you, sweetie~” I purred, stepping out of my pants and turning toward my dresser. The distraught whine that followed made me giggle more. I turned back, raising an eyebrow as Jason stared up at me. “... Is something wrong, my love?~”

“... Y- you're not gonna cover that up, are ya?” He almost looked like he was gonna pout about it.

I chuckled, sitting on the bed. “Do you not want me to?”

He surged forward grabbing my knees. “No! No I do not!”

“Oh! Well alright then~” I tried to sound surprised, shrugging. “That's all you had to say, darling~”

He groaned softly, kissing my knee. “Fuck … ya can't tease me like this, doll~ … gonna kill me…”

“Well I certainly don't want that … maybe I should put some pj's on…”

“Don't you dare.” An almost feral growl ripped through him as he stared up at me. “You just sit right there, and don't move.”

I shivered, chewing on my lower lip, purring softly; “ah~ o- ok, baby~ whatever you want~”

He grinned, kissing up my thigh. “... you did this on purpose … right? Gettin' me all riled up … can't tease me like this… fuck…”

I giggled, stroking his hair softly. “N- not trying to tease you, Jay~”

“Bullshit.” He smirked up at me, pulling me closer to the edge of the bed; “wearing my colors, looking so damn sexy, having me undress you like a fuckin’ present on Christmas morning, you're being a tease~ you want something from me, don't ya?”

I grinned, biting my lower lip. “... Maybe~ … if you wanna …”

He grinned, wrapping his arms under my legs so they slid onto his shoulders. “Oh, I wanna~”

He pressed gentle kisses to my inner thigh, slowly inching closer and closer to my panties. I groaned softly, laying back on the bed. Finally, he was hovering above my clothed core, looking up at me. He whispered huskily; “... This is ok?” 

I whimpered softly, nodding. “Oh yes~ please, baby~”

He slowly pressed a kiss to my clothed folds. I moaned softly, shivering as he hooked a thumb under my panties, sliding them to the side. “... Fuck, you look incredible~ can … can I have a taste?”

I groaned, nodding quickly. “Dear god, yes! Jay please!”

He leaned forward, slowly sliding his tongue between my folds. My legs tensed around him, instinctually trying to bring him in closer, and I felt him chuckle against me. The tip of his tongue flicked against my clit, making me gasp as he began licking up the slickness that was already coating my folds. He groaned appreciatively, pressing his tongue in deeper.

My hand shot out to grasp his hair, gripping him tight as he explored my entrance. His fingers dug into my thighs, holding my legs firmly in place. I panted and whimpered, clinging to him desperately as he slowly coaxed my orgasm closer and closer. Everything was so hot, and I could barely gasp for breath. My muscles tensed up, silently demanding more, and my core throbbed needily with every groan and moan that Jason poured into me.

“Oh fuck, baby girl~ tastes amazing~” he pulled me closer, pressing his tongue in deep. My back arched as I cried out, gripping the sheets desperately for something to ground myself.

“J- Jay~ s- so close~”

He grinned against me, licking and sucking more, and soon the tightening spring in my stomach gave way to an overwhelming wave of warmth and pleasure. I gasped sharply, letting out a high pitched whine as I collapsed against the mattress, trembling. Jason moaned softly, slowly pulling back.

He licked his lips, grinning up at me; “damn~ that was incredible~”

I giggled breathlessly; “that's my line.”

“You'll have to share it with me then.” He kissed my inner thigh, stroking my hips.

“Mhh~ if you insist, cutie~” I chuckled softly. “Your turn?”

“My turn?” He tilted his head.

I slowly sat up, groaning softly. “Yeah? Do you want me to reciprocate?”

He blinked a bit, blushing. “Uh … d- do you want to?”

“If you're interested.” I grinned, holding out a hand. He leaned against it so my fingers ended up in his hair, and he awkwardly chewed on his lower lip.

“I … I dunno …”

“We don't have to if you don't want.” I stroked his hair, smiling gently. “We never have to do anything.”

He nodded slowly. “... M- maybe next time?”

I nodded. “Maybe next time. What do you want to do right now?”

“... Is it entirely stupid if I say I just want to hold you?” He blushed a bit, kissing my palm.

I giggled and slid off the bed, into his lap. “No, it's not stupid. You can hold me all you want~”

He smiled brightly, shifting so he was leaning against the bed with me in his lap. I wrapped my arms around his neck, snuggling against him happily.

“Love you~”

He kissed my jaw, purring softly; “love you more, lil’ mama~”

I sighed happily, lazily playing with his hair. His hands slowly trailed from my hips to my shoulders and back down my spine. The world melted away, and sweet exhaustion took over my body.

Ding! Jason sighed, fishing his phone out of his pocket; “God, what now-...”

I frowned, looking up at him as he trailed off. His entire body was tense, and he was staring at his phone like it had just turned into a two headed snake. “... Baby?”

He pulled me closer, frowning deeply. “We're not going to the manor for training this week. I'll take you to the gym instead.”

“What? Jace, we've been over this, I -”

“No.” He snapped; “this is important. We're not going anywhere near the manor until I say otherwise. Got it?”

I flinched a bit at his harsh tone, frowning. “... Ok. … Why?”

“... Damian's mother is in town.”

Next ->

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

Taglist (open): @jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona @mystic60 @iwannabealocalcryptid @morstuavitamea-a @frosty--giants @arisa191 @prized-jules @phoenix666stuff @dinonuggysandhuggus @anuttellaa @whore-of-many-hot-men @cottage-worm @v1ckycheesue @roastyyytoastyyy @sarakmec @thestarcatcher7297 @stupidlyunhinged @mishkapi @mermaidgirl-11

[mokulule]

The Number You have Called Cannot Be Reached - part 8

Part 1 | Masterlist

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Warnings: angst/depression and canon typical violence So I promised this like months ago, and then got overwhelmed by having to manage the taglist resulting in me not updating this fic despite actually having written the next part. So that said this is the last time I'm tagging people, please subscribe to the masterlist - I'm gonna link it both here at the top and at the bottom. Anyways enjoy the next part:

Jason could handle this. He had handled this for years. The Pits were a known enemy. It shouldn’t effect him to this degree. But he could handle this. He could go about his day without putting heads in duffel bags, that had got to count as a win. The fact that he was avoiding his family, was just a precaution. Jason had everything under control.

Not like when he’d fled the Cave after assaulting Bruce in his stupid sweater.

That had not been his proudest moment. But the thing that really got to him was how he didn’t remember doing it. He didn’t even remember going to the Cave. When he tried to think it was all a green haze. The last moment of real clarity was opening Ghost’s bag and seeing nothing but dry protein bars. Knowing in his gut this was all he ate and that he stood with his food, and no way to give it back to him.

When he had fled the Cave, he’d gone home shaking like a leaf, and sunk to the floor trying to get his head back on straight. He didn’t know how long he sat there with his back against the door, just trying to breathe and search his memory. Eventually, though he didn’t know after how long, he found his phone and looked up the news. It had been a great relief to find that Red Hood had not been sighted, so he likely hadn’t been out on a murder spree he couldn’t remember.

But now it was days later. There had been no more green hazes. Things were under control.

Maybe he hit a bit harder, and a bit longer, when he went out. But it was the normal amount? Wasn’t it? Definitely not much more than normal, if it was more. That he was sure of… like 80% sure of. Jason rubbed the front of his helmet in lieu of his brow - It didn’t really help. What had Bruce even said that set him off? He barely remembered, something that felt demeaning, but the words escaped him no matter how many times he turned them over in his head. Normally he wouldn’t question himself that like, of course Bruce would have said something demeaning, he always did. He didn’t trust Jason, never would again. There would always be suspicion and doubt. But now…

Jason’s hand clenched into fists. Now having been without the Pits’ influence, having seen Bruce trying to reach out to him, as awkward and resigned as it had been, he wasn’t so sure.

He wasn’t sure he could trust himself.

Maybe this was all Bruce’s plan? Another of his famous gambits - this one to fold Jason back under his control, with the pretense of love and family. Because surely he had been right all along and Jason needed to be watched, couldn’t be trusted on his own.

Jason ripped the helmet off his head, only barely stopped himself from throwing it. He gasped and breathed in deep, like a man drowning. He was the one in control, he reminded himself firmly. Not the pits. Not Bruce.

There was sound in his comms and he hastily pulled the helmet back on. Ghost had been sighted. He had to go. If he could just talk with Ghost, figure out what this was.

Ghost ran away. Immediately, as if he could sense Jason.

It was okay, Jason could handle this.

Oo o oO

Barbara tapped the space bar absently without actually pressing it. Keeping half an eye on her leftmost monitor which showed the program she used for the surveillance in Gotham, no persons of interest were pinging tonight so far, no alarms had tripped for about an hour. She had time to ponder the conundrum that was their reoccurring thief.

If the thief was building something the other night was proof the loss of the spectral calibrator, hadn’t put a stop to the progress. The thief never ran in the same direction so they still didn’t even have that to go by to narrow down where he stayed, when he wasn’t giving them the run around.

The odd reaction to Jason hadn’t made a reappearance. In fact the moment Jason joined them the thief disappeared immediately: density shifting into the ground. Jason was not happy about it to say the least.After the backpack full of barely edible off-brand protein bars had been delivered to the cave by Jason, Barbara would agree with Jason that whatever situation the thief was in, it was worrying if this was all that he ate. She still held by her assessment that the photographic evidence was of too low quality early in their run-ins because of the strange electromagnetic interference he gave off to actually judge if he’d lost weight - but he did look very gaunt now.

She leaned back in her chair. A cup of coffee was warm between her hands, she breathed in the familiar scent as she considered the known facts.

Name assumed to be Danny Fenton, potentially legally Daniel Fenton, though they’d been unable to find a match to his physical appearance and rough age in their databases. He hadn’t actually spoken to any of them, it was a very real possibility he was a foreigner, but they’d checked and he wasn’t wanted by any foreign intelligence services.

The phone was baffling.

It was a brick, and it looked like something from the early 00s, from around the time when handheld phones really started to be something everyone had.

Tim had asked for Barbara’s help after he hadn’t been able to recover the erased text messages for some days. Tim had filled her in on his discovery that while all the numbers coded into the phone led to a “the number you have called cannot be reached” message when called from the phone - some of the numbers were actually active when looked up; the Jazz one led to a pizza place and the Dad number led to an elderly woman with Chinese heritage who had no relation to anyone named Danny or Fenton. The rest of the numbers weren’t currently in use.

It was odd however that despite those two numbers being in use, they still got the cannot be reached message. Tim had suggested the program which made the phone able to piggyback on the mobile network without a sim was faulty, but it had been easy enough for Barbara to disprove by calling a local number which connected with no problem. Tim was brilliant but sometimes he got too caught up in his complicated theories that he forgot the simple things.

Her recovery program for the text messages had just finished running (this was her third attempt). She took a sip of coffee, leaned forward and promptly nearly spat it out when she saw the result. It went down the wrong pipe when she tried to recover and she coughed and sputtered. Carefully she put her cup on her desk before she spilled it.

Finally her airways were clear and she rubbed the bridge of her nose. Somehow this was Dick’s fault.

She had recovered the messages. They were there - time stamps and all. The last message received was over a decade ago in 2009 and wasn’t that ominous? But that was a side note to be pondered later, because the contents of the messages, oh this was malicious.

Somehow, before deletion every single message had been changed to “Ghost”.

Not just a single ghost, no, entire messages teasing at their original length, but just changed into ghost ghost ghost ghost ghost. A whole litany of ghosts.

And it was definitely Dick’s fault.

Next

So that was it, hopefully I will be able to get back in the swing of things now. Commentary and tags are a great motivator and I read them all. As stated this is last time I tag people, so in the future you can subscribe to the masterlist or on Ao3 where the edited and hopefully better version eventually goes up.

Tag list of doom part 1:

@thewondersoflebanon | @gin2212 | @busterkeel | @apointlessbox | @spoopyspoony | @charlietheepic7 | @proper-idiocy | @serasvictoria02 | @zgirlly | @emeraldcorpral | @mushroom-jack | @v-inari | @8-29pm | @quirky-gardener | @vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff | @mars-the-witch | @elthepickle | @thegatorsgoose | @impulsiveasshole |

@tired-yet-awaken | @luagi-the-bestest | @britcision | @autumnwulf | @little-pondhead | @asphyxia778 | @sarina-elais | @may-rbi | @onlyhereforthechaos | @somuchyikes | @yjfk | @rosiea184 | @screamingtofillthevoid | @ailithnight | @writer-extraodinaire | @samgirl98 | @hanahaki-disease | @riverdancingwerewolves |

[a-chicken-with-adhd]

Okay whump fic idea, anyone is free to use as inspo.

Bruce did kill Joker, especially after stopping him from blowing up the UN and killing him when killing the Joker wouldn't cause a war. He kills Joker, not as Batman, but as Bruce Wayne because it was the father mourning a child and not a knight mourning its apprentice.

Bruce is taken to jail (this is very undercover knowledge as to not cause mass panic), Jason revives in his grave, Barbara still becomes paralyzed.

Dick is left with having to manage Gotham, Blüdhaven, Wayne Industries, The Teen Titans, part-timing at the Justice League, and also working as a cop.

Tim still connects the dots and confronts Dick Grayson on overloading himself, he still becomes Robin helping Dick while in Gotham(if more on the investigation and finding evidence and solving cases to give to commissioner Gordan than stopping Bane and supervillians)

Jason still becomes the RedHood, (for more whump purposes) Talia notices that there is something different with Batman but is unable to uncover why.

There's a riot at the Jail Bruce is in and at the same time there's a breakout. Jason is training around the world.

Bruce unfortunately passes due to multiple inmates gaining access to an officers guns and shooting randomly. This is kept quiet. All online rumors shut down by Oracle, not letting the new out until Alfred and Dick are ready.

Dick, Alfred, Barbara and Tim are in mourning. Trying to get the company together before letting the news break to the public. Dick is upset, knowing that he will have to hold onto the cowls mantle for longer. Angry and confused with his emotions about Bruce, his Father, his dad, dying while also feeling regret and shame that they left on a bad note, yelling at each other with him screaming that he hated Bruce.

Barbara is mourning the second Father figure she had, missing the calls she would get on Wednesdays from Bruce who listened to her rants and encouraged her to keep trying physical therapy.

Tim is sad he never got to know Bruce as anything more than his idol, but is determined to become a master at detective work to lessen the burden on Dick. So Dick grayson can go back to being Nightwing full time.

Alfred is mourning his child, his son, the little boy he raised that grew into a phenomenally kind-hearted, if too stoic and emotionally scared, strong man.

Jason, still thinks Bruce is alive. No one told him, he couldn't find this information. Jason still harbors hate that Bruce didn't do anything. There's whispers that Joker is retired or dead, or just hitting the ground after killing a powerful billionaire/trillionaires son. But no confirmations.

Jokers death by the hands of playboy billionaire philanthropist Brucie Wayne, the kind-hearted if a bit dim-witted flirtatious himbo Twunk, is a well kept secret.

Jason makes his debut as Red Hood, harboring Hate for Bruce. Trying to really rub it in Batman’s face that he knows who is under the mask. Angry that Bruce didn't avenge him. Angry that his killer could still be out there! Wandering the streets!

Its night that Alfred decides to let the news break to the world. Jason is out, being chased by Batman, they get into a scuffle, the Red Hood manages to pin down Batman while ontop of a building right across from a jumbo advertisment screen, Tim was working on coms and surveillance with Oracle. Then the news hit Gotham.

Jason was yelling at Batman, angrily yelling about how he has to live in fear that the joker could still be alive, live in degrading self worth that him dying wasnt what crossed the line for his dad, yelling that ignoring what Joker had done just to put him in Arkham where he'd just break out was just sentencinh Gothamites to death, ripping off his helmet screaming at Batman with hot angry tears in his eyes, pulling off Batman’s cowl only to be met with his older Brother's face.

The screen flashes from whatever advertisment to breaking news covering the hidden story of Bruce Wayne, who had killed Joker in revenge for murdering his son, had recently died in a recent jail outbreak from inmates causing a riot getting ahold of a gun and shooting other inmates.

The new anchor draws comparisons to Bruce Wayne's Parents and how they died in a random act of gun violence.

Jason, dealing with too much, runs away. Ignoring the way his whole body felt like it was breaking at the news that his dad had avenged him, had killed the Joker, but it had gotten him killed, shot in the head. Ignoring the calls of his older brother who just found out that Jason is alive.

[lillybearrie]

Jason is tragic not because he died, because let's be honest every character dies at least once it's practically a right of passage. No it's not that he died or even that after coming back he felt that his life had no impact it ment nothing, no it's the fact that this child who spent his whole life taking care of and managing the emotions of the adults in his life, who always tried to keep a smile on his face for his parents sake who let the adults in his life project what they wanted to on to him Who spent so long being the good kid the happy robin still felt that it didn't matter the he hadn't mattered.

Jason was good when his mother invited men over and sent him on errands to keep him out of the house, jason was good when he became the sole provider for both his mother and him, jason was good when he watched his mother died, jason was good when Bruce adopted him as a substitute for the son who left, jason was good when he heard Bruce and Dick fighting down the hall and pretended he didn't, jason was good when he learned to be robin,jason was good when he prioritized school over the mission, jason was good when he smiled and hugged batman, jason was good when he made the batman smirk, jason was good when he defended the citizens of gotham, jason was good for so long. For so long he was told to chose the high road and he did (with some notable exceptions-) for other people.

And then he wasn't good he got himself benched, and he wandered back to the narrows, he found out the woman who raised him was not the one who have birth to him and in the interest of learing more about himself he used those detective skills he learned as Robin to find his bio mom, he tried to protect her from the Joker and in return she sold him out and took a smoke break while listening to the sounds of laughter and a crowbar sattering bone, and still after that he tried to be good he tried to still save her, ignoring his own pain he dragged his broken and battered body over to untie her and he helped her to the door as he himself struggled to stay upright and then... it was locked. He failed to protect her and now he was gonna die. The building collapsed around him and he could hear Batman calling out but he couldn't respond and he died.

Then he wakes up 6 feet under and has to claw his way back to the surface, and upon eventually regaining most of himself he returns to gotham to find it unchanged. He spent his whole life being good for the sake and for the benefit of the adults in his life and even then despite everything even in his death they didn't change nothing changed Joker is still breaking out of Arkham on a bi-weekly basis, Batman is still doing the same things, and Bruce put a new kid in the robin suit and no doubt started pushing his issues on the kid like he did with both jason and dick. Jason was replaced both as Robin and in the Wayne family and everyone moved on like he was never there to begin with his life had so little impact ment so little to the people who were his whole world that the moment he was no longer right up in their faces the forgot about him.

And after being so good for so long he finally said fuck it. He said fine I'll do it myself and started cleaning up the streets his way without batman's rules and you know what? It was working. And that just reiterated in his mind that Bruce could have avenged him if he really wanted to but he didn't.

Do do you guys understand why this little shit consumes my brain yet?? Arararara

Also large parts of this are headcannon because depending on what comics you read the are several different interpretations of Jason as Robin (as well and the other characters) but this is how I like to read him because frankly it doesn't really matter if he was the happy robin or the aggressive robin because either way he died came back and is now the red hood but I personally find this read far more interesting than "he was volatile before and the only thing that stopped him from killing was batman and now that he doesn't have someone telling him not to he became the red hood because that who he always was deep down" but that's just me if you like that interpretation as it's a fairly common take in comics post-under the red hood but it's just not for me. Now do I have thoughts on his repressed rage issues and how they are not longer uh- yk repressed rage issues and how it parallels Dick (because boy howdy do i have thoughts on Richard Grayson-) absolutely i do but this post is already way to long so we aren't gonna get into that anyway like I said this is just how I chose to read Jason because I personally find it a more compelling story.

[fxckadoodledoomunson]

A Heart Divided -1-

|1| The day the mermaid got her heart broken…

Summary: You find yourself heartbroken after finding out not only that Eddie now despises you. Will you discover the truth to why and how he can date someone close to you?

Warnings: swearing, smoking, Eddie being a dick, angst.

You didn’t understand. Until recently, you and Eddie Munson had been good friends. When you first met him, you were asked by one of your teachers to tutor him, and although he had his Hellfire club and his band while you were on the swimming team, you always planned the tutoring around it.

Over time, the two of you became close. Even when your teacher told you that you no longer needed to tutor him, you continued to help him especially as it gave you a reason to spend more time with him, after you had developed a crush on him.

The last time you two spoke was before you went away to a training camp for spring break when Eddie tried to convince you to join in the campaign before you left. As much as you wanted to, you told him that you were unable to as you had to go straight to the camp after school. So, not only did you miss the campaign, you also missed the championship game.

On the first day back to school, you waited twenty minutes for Eddie to pick you up, which he never did. He didn’t even call you to let you know that he couldn’t pick you up.

“Aww…Guess Lover Boy’s not gonna show up,” you heard your older sister taunting you. You huffed as you went to grab your bike and cycled quickly to school.

Luckily, you managed to ride to school ten minutes before the bell rang. After you had chained your bike to the rack, you began to head inside when you spotted Eddie getting out of his van, along with one of younger members of Hellfire, Dustin Henderson, who was getting his bag out of the vehicle.

As you headed towards the van, Dustin greeted you as he headed into the building. You stopped and waved at him as he was catching up with Mike Wheeler and Lucas Sinclair before you waved and smiled at Eddie. Usually, Eddie would wave back at you. However, he just glared, averting his gaze while taking a puff of his cigarette. It confused you, but then you thought maybe he nervous about finals coming up soon or maybe he wanted to make sure that he got to class in time before Principal Higgins can kick him out. Or maybe he was pissed off with you for missing the campaign, even though he knew that you had to leave for camp immediately.

You cautiously walked towards him, as he threw his cigarette, stubbing it on the ground. You flashed him a smile, as you began to break the ice, “Hey Eddie, how did the campaign…”

Eddie silently brushed past you, as you lowly continued to speak, smile vanishing. “…go?”

You turned around, following his movements, so bewildered by his silent treatment that you didn’t hear someone calling your name.

“Hey!”

You jumped in fright, as you felt a pair of hands clap onto your shoulders. You turned your head to find your neighbour and best friend, Chrissy Cunningham standing behind you, smiling as she let out a giggle whilst you huffed in relief.

“I’ve been calling out to you, did you not hear me?” She asked, as she linked her arm with yours, as she pulled you towards the school, telling you, “When did you get back? You have to tell me about training camp.”

As you both walked through the hallway, you explained that you got home late the previous night before telling her about the swimming training camp, you beating your record and how big the swimming pool was. After asking what she did, Chrissy told you how she spent spring break with her boyfriend Jason Carver and his family. You were about to ask more questions when Chrissy abruptly interrupted, “There’s Eddie.”

You turned to find Eddie standing by Jeff’s locker, talking to him, Grant and Gareth when Chrissy happily waved at Eddie as she greeted him, “Hi Eddie!”

To your surprise, Eddie waved back at her, and even smiled back at her, which caused Jeff and Gareth friends to interrogate him about his new found friendship with Chrissy when Grant greeted you, which caused Eddie to silently glare at you, as you waved at Grant. However, you quickly lowered your hand as Eddie muttered something to Grant.

You swiftly turned your head to Chrissy as you asked her, “Uh, Chrissy…Since when are you friends with Eddie?”

Chrissy had let out a small giggle, before quietly confessing to you, “Since I bought some weed from him before spring break.”

You furrowed your brow, as you both headed to homeroom, where Chrissy greeted Jason, while you couldn’t help but wonder if Chrissy was the reason why Eddie was giving you the silent treatment. Did something happen between the two of them? Did she tell him about your crush on him and it made him being off with you? You mentally shrugged the thought off as you thought, No, she wouldn’t.

You never told her about your crush on Eddie, but even if you did, she wouldn’t have blurted it out to him, especially if Jason and his friends might tease you for it.

Throughout the day, you thought you might have a chance to talk to Eddie whenever you had classes together or during your lunch break, but every time you were near him, he would either ignore you or move away from you.

Between classes, you went up to Dustin and asked him if he knew if Eddie was okay, without mentioning that he’s been ignoring you.

“He seems to be okay,” Dustin replied.

You slowly nodded, as you asked him, “Well, the next you see him, can you ask him to meet me after school? By the bleachers at the football field?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll tell him to meet you,” a puzzled Dustin told you.

As he started walking away, you shouted, “Thank you!”

Dustin turned around as he smiled, before heading to his next class.

You had let out a sigh before heading your next class.

After school, you started walking towards the football field when you were approached by your friend and colleague, Robin Buckley.

“Hey!” She greeted you, as she approached you. “Are you coming to work?”

“I need to do something first, but I’ll be there after I’ve finished,” you replied.

“Okay, I’ll see you later.”

You turned to watch Robin run to Steve Harrington’s car, as Steve got out and waved at you, before getting back inside. You waved back, as he started his car, before driving away. You took a deep breath, before heading to the bleachers and sat down, anticipating Eddie’s arrival.

While you waited, you took out your diary, decorated with stuck on drawings of mermaids. You had never shown anyone your diary before.

However, if someone was to read it, they would’ve thought that you were writing a fantasy story. Ever since you had watched one of Eddie’s campaigns, you got inspired to write your diary entries as if it was a character telling their story, even included some drawings.

You took out your pen and started writing…

After a long journey from deepest part of the ocean, the mermaid had finally returned to shore to see the valour bard once again to hear his new adventure. However, when she saw him, he never acknowledged her presence. She didn’t understand, no matter how loud she called out to him, he ignored her. Was the wind blowing so hard that he couldn’t hear her? Or did he-?

You stopped writing, as you heard two people talking before hearing a feminine giggle. You looked up to find Eddie happily chatting to Chrissy, who had lightly patted his chest. The more you watched their interactions, the more suspicious you were of their friendship.

As they moved closer, you stuffed your diary into your bag and picked it up, as you stood up before approaching them, calling Eddie’s name, which made the pair of them stop on their tracks and turned to look at you. As soon as Eddie shifted his attention to you, his smile dropped, making him dart a glare at you.

“Did Dustin pass on my message?” You meekly asked, feeling nervous as he continued to glare at you. “To meet me at the bleachers?”

He huffed, as he stuffed his free hand into his pocket, as he carried his metal lunch box.

And for the first time in a week, he began to speak, bluntly telling you, “Yeah. He told me.”

You lowered your gaze to the ground, unsure what to say to him when you heard a confused Chrissy speak, cutting the tension, “Well, I gotta get to cheer practice.”

You looked up, as Chrissy gave you a small smile, before telling you that she’ll see you at your workplace afterwards. She then turned to Eddie, saying goodbye and thanking him.

“No problem, Chrissy,” Eddie called out, as Chrissy ran towards the gymnasium, leaving you and Eddie alone together.

You shifted your attention to Eddie and you were about to speak when Eddie rolled his eyes, as he started walking away from you. You called his name, as you followed him to his van. As you caught up with him, you shouted, “Eddie-!”

“WHAT?!” Eddie bellowed, as he angrily turned to face you.

“What the hell is wrong with you? You didn’t let me know that you weren’t gonna pick me up like you said you would, and you’ve been ignoring me all day. Why?”

Tears started streaming down your face, as you waited for Eddie’s explanation when he moved closer towards you as he darkly responded, “Because I don’t want to be around a conniving bitch like you.”

You gasped, hearing those harsh words. You began to silently sob when you heard Dustin calling out to Eddie. You lowered your head, as you wiped your tears with your sleeve, sniffing sharply, holding back your tears before you brushed past Eddie, ignoring Dustin calling out to you, as you headed towards your bike.

An hour or so into your shift, you quietly stacked the returned VHS tapes into their respective shelves, as you evaded Robin’s questions about why your eyes were puffy.

As much as you liked Robin, you couldn’t bear the questions, not wanting to lash out at her. Thankfully, Steve told her to not keep pestering you with her interrogation, asking her to help serve the next customer.

While Robin served the customer, Steve kept an eye on you, as you made your way to the Horror section to put away a tape when one tape got your attention. You picked up a copy of The Omen, as you thought about the first time you and Eddie watched it together. You quickly wiped the single tear running down your cheek, before putting it back when you heard a male voice softly spoke, “Hey.”

You turned to find Steve standing beside you, holding a copy of Halloween in his hand.

As he put it on the shelf, you began to speak, “Look Steve, I just-“

“Listen, I’m not gonna ask,” Steve interjected, raising both hands in the air. “I was gonna say…if you need to go home, just go. No questions asked. I’ll just tell Keith that you’re not well.”

You gave him a small smile, before telling him, “Thanks Steve, but I think I need to work to take my mind of things.”

Steve sighed, as he patted his hand on your shoulder, before telling you, “Just do what you need to do.”

You were grateful to have Steve in your life. Ever since you two met on a double date with his ex girlfriend Nancy Wheeler and the former baseball player, Mark Warner, he had been like the sibling that you’ve always wanted.

You lightly patted his hand, before he headed back to help Robin when you heard the bell ring as the door swung open, making you turn your head.

It was Chrissy and Jason, along some of his teammates. You quickly turned away, not wanting to see Chrissy.

You heard Jason telling her that he was gonna get her favourite movie when you heard Chrissy calling you.

You swiftly moved to the other side, pretending to tidy up the shelf when you heard footsteps approaching you, before hearing the familiar sweetly voice speak, “Hey, didn’t you hear me call you?”

You bit your tongue, as you continued to tidy the tapes when Chrissy grabbed your shoulder, forcing you to face her, as she asked, “What’s wrong with you today? You’re acting weird.”

You pushed her hand away aggressively, as you retorted, “You tell me.”

A confused Chrissy furrowed her brow, as she asked, “What are you talking about?”

“Does Jason know?” You bluntly asked, as you crossed your arms. “About you and Eddie? Your secret meet-ups?”

“Well, uh…no,” Chrissy hesitated. “But you don’t-“

“Understand?” You scoffed. “Oh I understand completely. I guess one guy is not enough for the Queen of Hawkins High.”

Chrissy was left flabbergasted by your accusations.

“Wait, you’ve got it all wrong, I’m not-“

Not wanting to hear anymore, you brushed past Chrissy, as you announced to Steve, as you headed into the staff room, “I’ve changed my mind, Steve. I’m not feeling great. I’ll make up for the last few hours another time.”

Steve and Robin turned to the door, before shifting their attention to the confused and upset cheerleader, who ran out of the store in tears, as Jason followed her, wondering what was going on.

A few moments later, you were cycling through your street, heading back to your house when you spotted Eddie’s van parked on the pavement between yours and Chrissy’s house. You figured that he was either waiting for Chrissy in his van or they were together at her place doing God knows what.

Either way, you didn’t want to see either of them. As soon as you got off your bike, you took your keys out of your pocket and unlocked the door, before stepping inside. “Hello?” You called out. “I’m home.”

As you took off your bag and jacket, placing it on the sofa, you heard music coming from your sister’s room. “I guess she’s got a guy in her room again,” you sighed, being unsurprised. You started to amble up the stairs, wanting to crawl under your bed cover and forget the earlier events.

As you got near to the top of the stairs, you noticed that your sister’s door was open. As soon as you got to the top, you called out to your sister and asked, “Can you turn it down? I need to-“

You froze as you caught your sister straddling on the guy’s lap. You then noticed the familiar pair of hands clad in rings rubbing her back. That was when you realised that your day had gotten worse. You knew then why Eddie’s van was parked outside. He wasn’t with Chrissy, but your own sister.

Not only was your sister making out with Eddie, but she was also wearing his Hellfire shirt.

You sniffled, trying not to cry, as you slowly headed back downstairs when one of the steps creaked, catching their attention.

“Oh, you’re home,” you heard your sister bellowed over the loud music. You turned around to see your sister and a shirtless Eddie sitting on edge of the bed. “We didn’t hear you. Oops.”

Your sister had let out a fake giggle, as she moved closer to Eddie, telling you, “You know Eddie, right?”

Of course I know, you tramp, you thought. I’ve only known him and tutored him since the beginning of the school year.

“We have kinda been seeing each other recently,” your sister bragged, before kissing Eddie, telling him, “Right, babe?”

“Right, princess,” Eddie replied, whilst darkly looking at you, “Since…spring break.”

You felt your heart break as Eddie glared at you. You let out a short gasp, before mumbling that you were going to get some air. You quickly ran down the stairs as you heard your sister and Eddie giggle, before hearing moaning from the pair.

You swung the door open, and stormed out with tears brimming in your eyes when you saw Jason’s jeep park outside of Chrissy’s house.

You knew that you owed her the biggest apology, even if she might not forgive you for your accusations.

As you watched Chrissy and Jason get out of the jeep, you wiped away the tears, before approaching them when you overheard them talking. “Jason, can you not call Eddie a freak?” Chrissy scolded her boyfriend. “It’s not nice.”

“Why are you defending him, Chris?” Jason asked, as they walked up to her door. Chrissy was about to respond when she noticed you coming closer.

Chrissy crossed her arms, as she bluntly asked, “May we help you?”

You sniffled, before asking her, “Can we talk Chrissy? Please?”

Before Chrissy could answer, Jason scoffed, making you lower your head, “After the way you spoke to her earlier? I don’t see why she should waste her time listening-“

Suddenly, Chrissy placed her hand on her boyfriend’s shoulder, telling him, “It’s okay, Jason.”

After she told him to go, Chrissy gave him a peck on the cheek, saying goodbye.

As Jason walked back to his jeep, he shot a glare at you, before driving off.

Chrissy turned to you, before telling you, “Whatever you gotta say, just say it. But just know that I would never cheat on-“

Suddenly, Chrissy stopped scolding you, as she noticed tears running down your cheeks, as you silently sobbed.

Chrissy’s face softened, as she slowly moved closer to you, as she asked, “Hey…what’s wrong?”

You sniffled, before you began to apologise, “I’m sorry, Chrissy. I shouldn’t have accused you of messing around with Eddie behind Carver’s back. When I saw you two together and the way he acted around me, I thought…”

You started sobbing uncontrollably, when Chrissy wrapped her arms around you and hugged you tightly. She softly shushed you, as you sobbed into her shoulder, before telling you, “Come inside and tell me what’s going on.”

A few moments later, you silently sat on the couch, blankly staring at the window when Chrissy came through the living room, placing a cup of herbal tea on the coffee table for you, before sitting down beside you.

“So, what’s going on with you and Eddie?” Chrissy softly asked.

You sniffled, before telling your best friend about how Eddie had been ignoring you most of the day and how he called you a conniving bitch, even though you don’t know why he would say that.

“What?” Chrissy gasped. “I can’t believe he would say that.”

You continued to sob, as Chrissy handed you a tissue. You wiped your tears away with it, before revealing, “And the worst part…after I caught him making out with my sister, he mentioned that he’s been seeing her since spring break.”

Chrissy had put her arm around you, as she softly said, “Oh honey…”

You had let out a sigh, trying to hold back your tears when Chrissy asked, “You like him, don’t you?”

You turned to her, surprised that she figured it out your feelings for Eddie.

“That was why you thought I was cheating on Jason with him?”

You sniffled, before telling her, “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. I can’t tell you enough how sorry I am for…”

Chrissy hugged you, before softly telling you, “You don’t need to apologise anymore. I understand where you were coming from. I forgive you.”

You returned the hug, as tears were brimming in your eyes once more when you heard voices coming from outside. You and Chrissy got up and went to the window, finding Eddie and your sister making out outside his van, before she went back inside with a smug smile on her face. At once, you went back to the sofa, trying not to cry, as Chrissy watched Eddie glancing at your sister, before noticing Chrissy standing by the window.

He smiled, as he waved at her when Chrissy glared at him, before shutting the curtains, which made Eddie feel confused.

After she sat back down next to you, Chrissy suggested, “Listen, why don’t you stay over tonight? We can watch a movie or something if you want.”

“Really?” You asked.

Chrissy nodded, before telling you, “I’ll just tell my mom that you’re tutoring me. I’m sure that she’ll let you stay.”

You smiled, as you hugged her, before thanking her. “Thanks Chrissy. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Suddenly, Chrissy pulled away, revealing a serious look on her face, before asking you, “You know I said that I bought some weed from Eddie before spring break?”

You nodded, before she confessed that she had been having nightmares for a long time, and she came to Eddie for weed, hoping that it would help her.

“Oh Chrissy…” you softly said, as you placed your hand on her shoulder. “I had no idea that you were going through something like that.”

“That’s why I’ve been to see Ms Kelly before spring break. And even though she’s been trying to help me, it still didn’t make the nightmares go away.”

You hugged Chrissy, doing your best to comfort her when you heard the doorbell ring.

“I better get that,” Chrissy said, as you let her go.

After she stood up and walked to the door, Chrissy opened it to find Eddie standing on her doorstep.

“Hey Chrissy,” Eddie grinned, unaware that you were in the house.

Chrissy sternly looked at him, as she crossed her arms and asked, “What is it, Eddie?”

Eddie’s grinned dropped, as he noticed Chrissy’s stern expression.

“Uh…I was wondering…” Eddie began to reply, as he nervously scratched the back of his head. “If you wanted to come over to Gareth’s place with me and watch us rehearse.”

“Can’t. I’m busy,” Chrissy coldly declined.

“Oh…okay. Well, you’re still coming to the Hideout tomorrow, right?”

“Maybe. Is that all? Only I have homework to do.”

Chrissy placed her hand on the door handle, as she told him, “you know, may you should focus on your studies too instead of getting your…”

Chrissy shuddered, before continuing to speak, “I can’t even say it.”

Before a confused Eddie could respond, Chrissy slammed the door in his face.

Chrissy deeply sighed, as she headed back to the couch, while you sipped your tea.

As Chrissy sat beside you, you told her, “You can go to the Hideout tomorrow if you want to. Don’t feel that you have to not go because of me.”

“Well I won’t go…without you,” Chrissy replied.

You spluttered into the cup, before you turned to face her.

“What?” You asked.

“Just because Eddie’s being cold with you, it doesn’t mean that you should stay away. Besides, the Hideout is a public place. It’s not like he can kick you out himself.”

You sighed, unsure whether or not you want to go to the Hideout and feel Eddie’s wrath.

Suddenly, you heard a car pull up, before hearing your parents talking.

You placed the cup onto the table, and stood up, before telling Chrissy, “I’m gonna speak to my parents about staying over.”

“Okay, hopefully I’ll see you later,” Chrissy replied.

As Chrissy walked you to the door, she hugged you once more, before telling you, “Everything will be okay.”

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