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ghost-proofbaby · 2 months

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twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

"THE FIRST DATE"

EXTRA CONTENT - "BEYOND THE HOURS"

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader → warnings: strong language, upside down does not exist, minors dni → wc: 7k+ → a/n: the very long awaited first date. this was requested by several people. wahoo! also, fair warning for second-hand embarrassment. i think eddie munson is the only person who drag me dancing around a bowling alley and i wouldn't smite them on the spot.

enjoy the main story's masterlist here

EDDIE: What about a fancy dinner date?

YOU: boring.

YOU: and too traditional. when were you even born, Munson? the 60s???

EDDIE: Ha. Ha. I don’t see you making any worthwhile suggestions, sweetheart.

YOU: i don’t have to make any suggestions, old man. YOU’RE supposed to be wooing ME

God forbid anyone walked in on you at this moment.

You were like a high schooler, lying on your stomach with your feet kicking up into the air as you stared at the screen, happily bantering with Eddie over text. All the butterflies, all the blissful jitters, all that dopamine rush that comes with school girl crushes – every single cliche was present and was in full force as you discussed the details of your first date with him. You used to scoff (albeit with hidden longing) at all the romance movies that you truly believed had overplayed all the giddiness, but now you got it. It was disgusting, the way he had you wrapped around his finger so easily, the way he had turned you into a heart-eyed shell of the woman you once were in the matter of a week.

EDDIE: So you have a thing for older men is what you’re telling me.

YOU: i NEVER said that.

EDDIE: Didn’t have to, sweetheart. I can read between the lines.

Over the last week, since the two of you had won the bet and you had won over with insistence on him properly asking you out, Eddie had been tossing around date ideas as he tried to plan this very first occasion. The only time you had even seen him was when your entire group met up, the latest outing having been for brunch on Saturday under the guise celebrating the one week anniversary of you and Eddie surviving twenty four hours together without killing each other.

Didn’t stop him from calling and texting you. And it clearly hadn’t deterred him from losing his mind over doing right by you with this entire first date ordeal.

YOU: i don’t even have the energy to explain to you how many times you have proven to not do that in the past.

EDDIE: I’ve read between the lines in the past!

YOU: you most certainly have NOT

EDDIE: I was able to read when you wanted to kiss me that night. That’s reading between the lines.

And so the giddiness rears its head, full fledged as heat swarms your body and your cheeks ache from your smile.

YOU: i hate you

EDDIE: No, you don’t

YOU: i do. i really do.

EDDIE: You’re such a shit liar

You nearly jump out of your skin when there’s a knock on your dorm’s door, annoying and persistent as it taps out some random rhythm that must be a song of some sort. But whatever song it is, you can’t recognize it as you stand, walking over to answer.

“Did you forget your key aga-” you begin, assuming it was just your roommate. You’re shocked to see Robin and Steve standing there, “What are you guys doing here?”

“We had a study date, in case you had forgotten and not seen our hundreds of texts,” Steve huffs, quickly crossing his arms.

You hadn’t seen their texts. Most of your screen time had been a bit preoccupied with a certain metalhead.

“Oh, shit,” your face falls as you open the door wider, side-stepping and motioning for them to come in.

“Yeah,” Steve snarks as he comes right in, Robin hot on his trails and seeming in a far more pleasant mood as the boy mocks you, “Oh, shit.”

Robin stops beside you as Steve helps himself to a seat in your desk chair, “Don’t mind him. He’s just cranky because he has to get A’s on all his mid-terms to keep his 3.0.”

“I am not cranky-”

“You are!”

“Am not!”

“You so are,” Robin continues to egg him on, choosing your bed as her resting place.

Your phone bounces a bit from the way she throws herself down on the sorry excuse for a mattress, and you recall how you had yet to reply to Eddie. Fuck.

“When did we even make these plans?” you ask, genuinely confused as you shut the door. You already miss the peace and quiet of being alone, free to preen at your phone and giggle to your heart’s content at the world’s worst flirt over text.

“Saturday,” Steve groans, throwing his head back.

“It was after brunch,” Robin clarifies, lifting herself up from how she was lounging amongst your blankets, “I mean, you seemed a bit distracted when you agreed, but… We did text you about it.”

You had been distracted. Eddie had managed to quietly ask the waitress to include your tab with his so he could pay for it without your knowledge, and you’d spent the entire time torn between being upset with the boy and absolutely fawning. It was a bit pathetic, looking back at it – the fact that those were the only two options your mind had presented you with. You’d scorned him over the phone later that night, and he had only laughed. You swear you can still hear it now, having heard it several times since – a low chuckle that rattled into the caverns of your chest, that bounced amongst vines of affection and willed open blooms of adoration just a little bit wider.

Part of you was still waiting for the wilting. For the other shoe to drop, for all of what had been exposed and had been planted to vanish from your grasps. That first Monday morning, you’d even woken up worried it had all been a dream.

“I’ve been busy,” you lamely try to excuse your radio silence.

“Busier than normal?” Steve’s brows quirk up, leaning back in your chair that emits a squeak of protest, “Or have you just been busy with new friends?”

Your lips twist and your nose twitches in confusion, “New friends? What the Hell are you going on about, Harrington?”

Robin fully sits up now, watching with piqued interest.

“Eddie,” Steve gets straight to the point, his previous sour mood finally melting slightly, “You can’t honestly tell me that nothing changed after that night.”

It was something neither of you had really discussed. Steve had seen you two, knew that a lot had truly changed based off of the way you’d tossed him right into the middle of the mess there at the end, but you and Eddie had never said anything about being together. Not to your friends, and not even to each other.

“Just because I don’t want to tear his head off his shoulders anymore doesn’t mean we’re spending every waking moment together,” you force your best scowl, as if that wasn’t exactly what you had yearned for all week.

Eventually, it had to wear off. That’s what you told yourself – at some point the initial rose tones would fade less vibrant, and Eddie’s intense occupation of your mind would lessen with the hues.

“I can’t believe it, but I am siding with Stevie on this one,” Robin finally contributes, “I mean, you guys won’t even tell us what happened that night.”

“Nothing exciting,” you’re quick to lie, “Just… I don’t know. Boring stuff. Getting on each other’s nerves, sitting around on his couch,” that gets a bitter scoff from Steve that almost makes you freeze up. Damn Eddie for teasing him with the truth about the couch, “Nothing worth making a big deal over. Like I said, we just learned to… to… tolerate each other.”

Tolerate was an interesting way to put spending hours on the phone together each night, sometimes falling asleep while still on the line.

Steve still looks as though he’s recalling all of Eddie’s annoying taunts from that night while Robin only grins salaciously.

“Tolerate each other?” she mimics you, leaning forward and pressing her palms into the edge of the mattress beside her knees, “Babe, have you two even said a single mean thing to each other since that night? I think he even smiled at you on Saturday. You’re practically married with two and a half kids already.”

He had smiled at you – multiple times. And each one had struck the most delicate of daggers right into your chest, lighting you aflame under his attempted clandestine attention. Every time those big, brown eyes had met yours from across the table, the ache you’d started to hold for him had only doubled in size. By the end of that morning, when the day had technically started to bleed out into the afternoon, you were nothing more than a vessel of pining for the boy that you hadn’t even gotten the chance to brush against amongst your friends.

“Whatever,” you murmur as you reach out to snatch up your phone, “I never even understood the whole half kid thing. Like, how the fuck do you have two and a half kids?”

“I’m sure Eddie would be more than happy to show you,” Steve teases despite his still half-traumatized look.

You’re quick to reach out a hand to whack the back of his head, “Shut up. Are we gonna keep sitting here while you two try to pry something that doesn’t exist out of me, or are we going to go study?”

Steve’s grumpy mood returns as he rubs the back of his head, him and Robin standing in sync to exit the room.

But before the three of you exit the dorm, you check your phone one last time, having to bite down on that girlish grin when you see two new text message notifications.

EDDIE: It’s official. I’m a genius.

EDDIE: Say, are you free tomorrow night?

—

Tomorrow night couldn’t come fast enough. A shift at your job, one too many hours spent sitting through lectures, ensuring a night of studying with Steve and Robin — all petty distractions, roadblocks on your path to the most highly anticipated first date of your life. Eddie wouldn’t even entertain you with details, only telling you to dress fairly comfortably and to put on your best game face.

And you did. To some extent, you really did.

But you’d finished getting ready hours in advance, something you blamed on nerves, and having that much time to kill with such nerves was dangerous.

Simple makeup turned a bit more extravagant, you had tried on nearly every outfit in your possession, you’d even eyed your hair curler on more than one occasion.

Comfortable. What the Hell was that even supposed to mean?

Your only solution had been to text the man of the hour himself, something to busy your thumbs instead of twiddling them or involving them in taking your date night look several steps over just comfortable.

YOU: okay, so. can you define ‘dressing comfortably’?

EDDIE: According to Google, “dressing in a way that makes you feel at ease in your body” :)

YOU: fuck off. you know that’s not what i meant.

Still no clues. He wasn’t caving so easily to your pestering. You should have known better, considering he’d been professionally dodging any questions or inquiries you had regarding the date for the last twenty four hours.

EDDIE: Don’t overthink it, sweetheart.

That certainly didn’t help. Not even in the slightest.

You don’t even reply to his text, already back to pacing your dorm before you finally cave to an impulsive decision you’d been grappling with for hours now.

There was a newish, sporty skirt in the bottom of your drawers. It was comfortable, it had built-in shorts, and it looked damn good on you. The hem fell right around mid-thigh and always flared in an overly satisfying fashion when you’d spin while wearing it. The material of the pleats was nearly impossible to wrinkle. It wasn’t overly soft against your palms as you still nervously smoothed it down once you’d shimmied it on, but you still repeated the motion in hopes of soothing some of your nerves.

You’re sure it’s the wrong option until Eddie sees you in it.

He texts when he’s on his way and you find yourself bounding outside to wait for him far too early to be reasonable. He hadn’t even arrived until after your back had nearly become one with the brick exterior of the dorm building's front wall, leaning into the scratch of the clay on your shoulder blade a welcome distraction until you heard the roar of a motorcycle engine.

You nearly grow dizzy from the sudden rush of nerves.

This is really happening. You’re about to go on a date with Eddie, the first time of what you hope will be many to come.

“Took you long enough, Munson,” you snark loud enough for him to hear as he clicks the Yamaha’s kickstand into place right by the vibrant red curb. There’s a sign not even a full foot away from where he’s standing that clearly spells out NO PARKING.

Oh.

If you hadn’t already been riddled with nerves, your knees would have gone weak at the sight of him.

Since when is that dressing casual and comfortable?

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I keep you waiting?” he shoots right back as he lifts the helmet off his head, and something inside of you clenched tightly at the sight with no plans to unwind any time soon.

Dark wash jeans plaster his legs, heavy combat boots smacking against the pavement as he walks to meet you halfway. The black shirt he’s donning isn’t extravagant, but something in the way that t-shirt material stretches across his chest has you burning from the inside out. He’s even gone so far as to tuck the shirt into the jeans, his black leather belt on show as he hugs the helmet below his bicep. And his normal leather jacket — you don’t believe you’ve ever seen it look better, ever seen it fit his shoulders so snugly. He’s dressed to perfectly match the all black bike, the image of a bad boy straight out of every cheesy movie you’d ever seen.

The only thing that breaks the illusion is the boyish grin pulling the arrival of his dimples along with it as he watches you push off the wall. His eyes are sparkling as you approach him, a constellation of hope and new beginnings twinkling right before you.

He’s not sorry that you waited on him. Not in the slightest. Especially when those starry eyes travel over your appearance.

You have to force yourself to tsk, because otherwise you might end up just another pile of ash for the poor landscapers to sweep up, “Haven't you heard it’s rude to keep a lady waiting?”

You stop in your steps just far enough to catch the way his eyes take you in. Drinking slowly. Following the trace of the just fancy enough tank top that you’d chosen to balance the skirt. Lingering on the plush of your inner thighs, barely peeking out the bottom of your chosen outfit for the night.

You almost start to feel self conscious until he lets out a little sigh, nearly a whimper as his eyes trail back up to find yours.

“I’m sure I have,” he chokes out, composure momentarily vanished as you distract him so easily, “But aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

“I could say the same about you.”

You’re like a shark. If you stop swimming in the upstream flirtations, you’ll drown instantaneously in his big brown eyes.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” you swear you see a hint of a blush across the highs of his cheek bones and sides of his neck as he holds out the helmet for you, “At least with me, it will.”

“Even the top secret location of this date?” you ask as you take the helmet, considering putting up a fight. You still hated him not wearing one for your expense, and you weren’t exactly eager for any sort of helmet hair, “Do I have to wear-“

He knows the end of your sentence before you even finish, “Yes. No exceptions; you have to wear it every time you ride.”

“Every time?”

“It’s for safety.”

“Isn’t it sort of unsafe for you to go without one?”

“You’re wearing the helmet,” he sighs, nose twitching with indignation as he holds staunchly onto the position, “And to answer your other question, no. I guess flattery will get you almost everywhere, but it’s a surprise.”

You fiddle with the chin straps, looking down as you feel his gaze burning the top of your head from this angle, “Fine. But we really should just get me my own helmet. You need to wear one, too. And…” you look back up, pausing before you properly put on the piece of safety equipment, “It’s a little oversized. You know, considering it was meant to fit your big head first.”

He narrows his eyes, still lit up with a sort of playfulness you haven’t grown accustomed to being on the receiving end of.

You like him quite a bit more than you bargained for. A lot more than five hundred dollars, or twenty four hours, ever would have summarized.

“We can go helmet shopping another day.”

We. Not just him, not just you. But you and him. A unit. A couple.

“It’s a date,” you whisper just before you slide on the helmet. You completely miss the wildfire that the ghost of a blush has finally become. You completely miss the way that your talk of you two together, you two as a couple with a future, affects him just as his has an effect on you.

Helmet hair is worth it, you decide, once you’ve saddled onto the bike behind him and he revs up the engine once more. You’re not as shy as you had been on that fateful night the week before, quick to wrap your arms around his middle and let your chest press hard against his back. The leather crinkles against the contact, the heat of him radiating, and you think you could spend forever like that.

You’re almost upset that you can’t smell his cologne through the helmet. That once terrible scent of boy.

Every curve and every slow stop is another excuse to cling to him tighter, every red light a reason for him to turn his head and catch a glimpse of you with a small grin that never once falters. You swear at one of the lights, when he revs his engine in a particularly rowdy fashion right as the light turns green and takes off particularly fast, you can hear his laughter over the loud wind mingling with the roaring engine. You know you can feel it, vibrating in his chest right along with your own that gets lost in the chaos of the unusually busy Tuesday night street.

When he pulls into the parking lot behind the older building, you catch sight of the neon sign out front and find yourself laughing again.

“Bowling?” you question, yanking the helmet off less than gracefully as he stands off the bike you’d just swung yourself off of, “You’re taking me bowling?”

He takes the helmet from you, suddenly looking a bit shy as he averts his gaze, “Not just any bowling. It’s… It’s the coolest bowling alley you will ever go on a first date at.”

“You say that to every girl you bring here?”

You’re just teasing him, trying to poke fun rather than succumb to all the fluttering that bruises your inner chest and stomach. But then he has to ruin your fun, strike a match and set you aflame so adroitly.

“Only the prettiest ones.”

You should continue the banter, challenge him on just who else fell into that category, but you can’t. It’s in that glimmer of his eyes and the indent of his dimples, the way he looks at you as he slowly rises and somehow softens his gaze all while keeping a threat of a bite beneath the tone. His eyes tell you that you are, without a doubt, the prettiest girl he’s referring to. That in this moment, you begin and you end his world, and not even the commotion of traffic or nip in the air that creeps up as the summer sun sets can deter his attention being set solely on you.

But his tone suggests something far more dangerous. He says it like you’re a prey, an unattainable catch that he’ll be chasing for the entire night. A wicked growl to that voice you’ve been falling asleep to over the phone far more than you care to admit in just a short week.

He says it like he’s going to ruin you. As if he hasn’t already injected himself into your veins, as if he isn’t the gasoline drowning and raging the burn within you.

But he keeps up the gentleman persona in the short walk up to the door of the establishment. Holds out his hand for yours to fit perfectly into, guides you to the inner sidewalk as cars fly past and the only thing between you and them is him.

The hunt is on from the moment he opens that door for you.

“Ever the gentleman,” you muse, voice hardly above a whisper as you brush past him and finally catch that smell of boy.

You think you’d drown in his cologne now if he gave you the chance. Bury your face in his chest, wrap your arms around him and press any inch of your own bare skin to his.

“Always,” it would have been a weak response if he’d only said it and nodded his head, but he takes it a step further. Right as you pass him, entering the brisk AC, his hand ghosts over the expanse of your lower back. Fingertips nimbly brushing right above the band of that skirt, grazing your tank top just hard enough for you to feel it and shiver.

It doesn’t stop there. The back and forth, the chase, the hunt.

The way he makes sure your knuckles brush his as he hands you your shoes, even more brushes of his palm flat against your lower back repetitively, the way he insists on a heavier ball that makes his arms strain and muscles display. Over the chatter from the bowling alley’s fairly nice bar and the music trickling out of the overhead speakers, you’re sure that your heartbeat has joined the ranks of audible noises to echo the nice haunt. You’re positive he can hear every thump, can pinpoint the exact moments that poor aching muscle inside your chest begins to race.

You go for a smaller weighted ball. You don’t think you could handle anything heavier with your current case of weak knees.

“Only an eight pounder?” Eddie tuts at you as you approach your designated lane again, “Come on, sweetheart. You can do better than that.”

No, I can’t. Your fault, really.

“I have weak arms,” you try to defend yourself as you rotate the red ball in your hands.

His favorite color. It hadn’t been intentional, but the swirling shades of stark scarlet and deep maroons is a nice touch.

“Poor baby,” he teases, leaning into you as you deposit the ball right behind his own ball on the track where it already rests.

A twelve pounder. A smoky quartz design, black base swirling with misty white and gold accents. Far prettier than yours by a landslide.

And fitting for the pretty boy you’re faced with when you turn to watch him shedding his leather jacket onto the bench a few steps away.

“Not all of us are some big, strong macho man,” you scowl insincerely, moving to sit beside him and follow his lead in switching out shoes, “I’m betting now that by halfway through the game, you’ll be caving and begging to use my ball, Munson.”

You’re looking down as you casually say it, one shoe already half off and unaware of just how close he had gotten until his hand reaches over. Not even a second later, he has your chin pinched between his fingers, gentle as it guides you and forces you to look at him, “Careful. Bets seem to be awfully dangerous when it comes to the two of us.”

Damn him. Damn him, damn him, damn him.

The graze of those fingers against your jaw leaves a trail of ash, burning that lingers and thrums beneath your skin, heart officially skipping beats rather than merely speeding up. You’re coming to realize that when it comes to keeping up with Eddie Munson in his element, in all his charm and flirtatious banter, you’re a bit hopeless.

He has you trapped under his thumb — metaphorically and literally.

“Are you always this flirtatious with all your dates?” you spit out against your better judgment.

Why do I keep bringing up his previous flames? Do I really care? Do I really want to put myself through the torture of hearing about all of the girls, or guys, he’s wooed before me?

The same glittering eyes, the same hidden smirk from earlier. “Only the prettiest ones.”

“You keep saying that,” you mumble, chin pressing into his fingertips against their hold, “Just how many pretty dates have you had?”

The pride softens in an instant. His gaze is less sharp, grin less predatory as he raises his eyebrows.

“Does it really matter?”

You can’t help it. Your mind races ahead of you before you can stop it; you’re plagued in an instant with images of how many dates, how many other people he had indulged in over the year you two had wasted hating each other. You try to recall overhearing him describe any of those dates, try to remember if Nancy ever mentioned Eddie passing up one of the hangouts for a romantic endeavor.

You come up empty handed, but it doesn’t stop the overthinking.

“I guess not,” you feebly answer, unable to tear your eyes from him.

I guess not is really code for it matters so much more than I care to admit. An impossible riddle you can’t even expect him to pick up on.

His hand falls from your chin and finds home on your bare knee, warm palm swallowing it up. He gives it a squeeze, and you wonder for a moment if maybe he can read your secretive language. Maybe he’s seeing right through your overconfident front, maybe he has felt every racing of your pulse.

Maybe, he’s as nervous as you are.

He opens his mouth to say something, but you don’t think you can bear another moment of this new intimacy. It had been easier when the two of you were on a ticking clock, confined to his apartment and parameters of a bet that never really mattered. Vulnerability had less of an edge when you could yearn and pine to see it flourish in the real world — but now, here it was, twisting away within you both a week later and pricking away as the stakes at hand come to light.

“Are you ready for me to absolutely demolish your ass at this game?” you joke.

“Demolish me? That’s some big talk for someone using an eight pound ball, babe.”

“It’s not about how much you’re packing, pretty boy,” you scoff, “Just that you know how to use it.”

He smiles slowly, but the quick squeeze of his hand tells you the vulnerability is here to stay. He feels that cutting edge too, and he’s not shying away.

He leans right into it, just as he does your personal space, “Bring it on.”

—

“You’re cheating!”

“I’m not!”

“You are! Who the fuck gets three strikes in a row?”

Eddie strolls back towards you, self-satisfied smirk curling his lips and his hips swaying with arrogance as you continue to pout at his sudden show of sportsmanship, “I believe the answer is me, sweetheart. Wanna see me make it four?”

“I hope you just jinxed yourself,” you scowl as you hop up off the couch and Eddie swaggers right past you, hardly affected by the palm you smack into the center of his chest for good measure, “I hope you roll nothing but gutter balls the rest of the game, you prick.”

“Like you have been?”

“Burn in Hell.”

Eddie’s cackle echoes through the fairly busy alley. It wasn’t overwhelming, the lanes of either side of yours staying empty, the only other groups several ways down. So far, the date has been good. Even if Eddie was wiping the floor with your severe lack of skill.

Both of you had opted for Cokes rather than alcohol, Eddie had ordered some sort of platter with onion rings and mozzarella sticks that the two of you had easily been devouring between turns. Playful banter had been kept up easier than breathing, barking words without bite being snapped back and forth loud enough for the entire establishment to hear the two of you being exceptionally childish.

At some point, your nerves had melted. And you didn’t even need a lick of alcohol in your system for it to happen.

“Try to aim for the pins this time,” Eddie continues to taunt you from where he’s spread out on the brown faux leather bench you’d been taking turns warming the seat of.

Your fingers slide into the holes of your ball with ease, courtesy of the grease from all your snacking, “Try shutting the fuck up.”

More of his laughter sounds off, and you nearly trip on your walk up to the markings on the linoleum wood flooring. It’s a nice sound; a beautiful response to words that could easily read identical to how the two of you used to fight. But these aren’t fighting words, they’re words passed between two… two… friends?

Is that how you should continue to classify this? Were you and Eddie really still just friends?

The sound of your ball stuttering in hops across the beginnings of the lane replaces his laughter

No. Easy question – there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that the two of you were definitely not friends. Not enemies, not friends – something different and something unspoken. And for the remainder of this date, you could live with that.

Eddie sucks in an audible breath, letting the air whistle between his teeth as your ball veers at the last second and misses the pins entirely. Again.

“Th-”

“Don’t,” you interrupt him, spinning on your heel and holding up a warning finger. It’s harder to hold in your own grin when Eddie’s already smiling into his fist, leaning his elbows onto his thighs as his big eyes peer at you, clearly amused, “Don’t say a word.”

His knuckles dig further into his mouth.

“I meant to do that.”

His eyebrows shoot up, still not speaking.

“It takes real talent to avoid pins like that.”

He leans over a bit further, and you swear you hear him emit a snort from behind that damn fist.

You open your mouth to continue with the bit when the clattering of your ball returning to the ball rack comes from behind you. Eddie only shrugs cheekily as he finally drops his fist to grab for a mozzarella stick, his smile contained but those damn dimples still flashing you brilliantly.

Without taking your eyes off him, you hold up a warning finger for emphasis once more, trying to bite down any signs of your own amusement as you take a few steps back in the direction of the rack and repeat yourself, “I meant to do that.”

“Sure you did,” he muses before taking a bite of the mozzarella stick smothered in marinara sauce.

“I did.”

“I believe you.”

“I-”

It seems the Universe is in the business of interrupting you two. As if it seems all that hope and potential flourishing in the space between you two and decides that simply won’t do. As if it’s too much.

Maybe it is. But maybe, just maybe, you’re enjoying too much.

Suddenly, before you can even finish your sentence or grab for your ball, the lights of the alley have dimmed. A few spotlights over the alleys themselves light up, erratically waving patches of light over the shining floor as the music that had been playing overhead cuts out to be replaced with some poor employee’s voice.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen-” you and Eddie share a confused glance, “-The time is officially ten o’clock, meaning nineties night has officially begun! Have fun, and enjoy yourselves as we throw you back to the decade of Nirvana and Beanie Babies for the rest of the night with these straight jams.”

Your face scrunches up in a comical cringe before the buzzing static of the speaker can even cut out and the beginning lines of Say My Name by Destiny’s Child begins to play.

You aren’t entirely sure of how it happens. Maybe it’s all the playfulness in there, in all that electric teasing at the tip of Eddie’s tongue and all that hopelessness bubbling up in your chest as it dawns on you of the fact you were finally on a proper date with Eddie. Maybe it’s simply a good night for you to continue to make a fool of yourself, and Eddie sees it as a chance he’ll always be right there with you, prepared to make a scene as he follows your lead.

He stands up to approach you where you’re still rooted beside the rack, matching your own grin that blooms genuinely at the sound of the song.

It was one of your favorite’s. A small fact about yourself you don’t think you’ve ever told Eddie – that you can remember.

It’s small, at first. Just mouthing along to the first verse as he moves towards you, recognizing that excitement lighting up in you, shimmying his shoulders ever so slightly. He looks like an idiot – he’s absolutely your idiot.

“Did you know it was nineties night?” you mumble as he gets closer, shaking your head slightly.

“Stevie might have mentioned something about you enjoying nineties nostalgia,” he drawls, still taking sure steps towards you.

“Did you ask him for advice for our first date, Eddie?”

“No,” he scoffs quickly, finally close enough to grab you gently by your hips. He’s nowhere near manhandling you, but it’s still reminding you of the game, of the hunt, at play. You’re his prey and he’s officially making his move. Carelessly, nonchalantly. “He mentioned it ages ago. When they were trying to convince me you weren’t all bad.”

Your smile widens, “Was this around the time I threw a glass at your head, by chance?”

“Maybe.”

The dulcet instrumental of the song continues on overhead, beginning to pick up in beat, making you nod your head along as Eddie finally starts to tug you closer.

You’re in public, and you both should know better than to make absolute fools of yourselves, but it doesn’t seem to matter when all you can really see is him.

Your friends had also spent ages trying to convince you that Eddie wasn’t all bad, but you’d always known that much. You’d seen glimpses of the good in him from that very first night. When he’d made you feel welcome, when he’d given you a life-preserver to cling to when you’d felt most out of your element. You knew that Eddie Munson was one of those people who had a hardwired habit of trying to make people feel welcome.

Even in a room full of people, when you’d be non-stop embarrassing yourself endlessly.

All his jests had been further proof, but when he sees your rock on your heels as you enjoy the music, he takes it a step further. He grabs one of your hands with his free one, keeping a hold of your waist, encouraging all your giddiness over the song. Every single person in the establishment could be staring at the two of you – you didn’t care.

When he starts dramatically mouth along to the chorus of the song, swinging you around slightly, it takes very little provocation for you to join in with him.

You both could’ve taken a step further, and properly sang along in the most obnoxious voices possible, but you don’t. There’s still the slightest blanket of security there as Eddie keeps the antics mostly silent, reserving his dramatic reenactments of vocal runs for your eyes only. Even yanking your hand up close to his mouth, as though it was a microphone, as he swings you around again. You quickly become a giggling disarray, hardly able to keep up your own footing, eyes squinting with joy and what must be the messiest and ugliest smile possible showing off all your teeth. The type of smile and laughter you’d normally try to hide on instinct. The kind of smile you cover up.

But you can’t, because Eddie is keeping his sturdy grip on your hands with his own, and he’s drinking in every second of your joy. He’s vibrant as he watches the way he’s entertaining you. Shamelessly staring, making his antics falter.

“Baby, say my name,” he purposefully sings along dramatically, quietly but terribly off-key.

You can’t help but let out a snort, “Eddie, you’re an idiot.”

He ignores you, and continues to give you your own private concert, switching rapidly between singing the main song and the backup vocals, which only makes your stomach further ache with laughter.

This is what you’d been yearning for the last year. This silly side of him, an absolute fool who couldn’t care less about the stares of others.

The seductive side of him was enticing. The honest version of him nice. But this side of him? Carefree, rowdy, indiscreet? It may be your favorite yet.

Only the sound of a nearby teen couple mocking you two break the moment, just as you’ve begun to jokingly whisper-sing back into Eddie’s pretend microphone made of your joined fists. They make what must be vomiting noises, and you catch the tail end of one of them jokingly poking a finger towards their outstretched tongue as you finally sigh deeply.

You should probably feel embarrassed. Later on, when you find yourself in bed later tonight and attempt to find some rest, you’ll probably ruminate and burn yourself alive with all the embarrassment. But not right now; not with your boy still in front of you, smiling just as desperately wide as you were.

His dimples would probably consume him if you let him go on any longer.

“Eddie,” you choke out through residual laughter, tugging your hands free as the song starts to fade out. You make no move to remove yourself from him, though. Your arms find home around his shoulders, hands splayed just below the nape of his neck, “People are staring.”

“Good,” he snipes back, finally dropping the act but not the glee, “Probably entranced by how pretty you look right now.”

“Pretty? I probably look like a loser. They’re probably already engraving a trophy for world’s ugliest smile-”

“Oh, don’t do that,” his forehead falls against yours, rolling his eyes, “Shut up and take the compliment. I love your smile.”

There’s something unspoken there. He loves your smile, yes, but he’s also been denied of it for a very long year. It’s the first step of making it up to you, making up for lost time.

Making a fool out of himself, just to see that goddamn smile.

With your arms around his neck, his forehead pressed against yours and the tip of his nose bumping yours, the game of bowling is all but forgotten. Even the teens, still side-eyeing the two of you, can be pushed aside in your mind.

All your insecurities of the night that have crept in the shadows become insignificant. You don’t care how many dates Eddie has been on before you, you don’t care that you’ve clearly become a prey caught in his web. You don’t even care about the way you’re losing.

It’s the perfect first date. When one of his hands wander, playing with the hem of your skirt, knuckles and rings brushing against bare skin, it’s perfect.

“Hey,” you whisper, “I’ve got a question.”

“I have an answer.”

“You sound very sure there, big guy.”

“I am sure,” he pulls his face away just a bit, but his gentle touch against your thigh lings. The other hand stays warm against your lower back, keeping you pressed up against him, “What’s up, sweetheart?”

Not enemies, not friends – something different and something unspoken.

Hearing him say it out-loud will still be nice, though.

“Does this mean we’re official?” you breathe out, trying to cling to all your bravery and not let it slip away, “Like – God, I sound like a high schooler right now – does this mean we’re… you know…”

“Dating?” he’s grinning, unable to hide his giddiness.

“Yeah. Dating.”

The hand tracing circles on your exposed outer thigh rises up to your cheek, brushing along it as he tucks a bit of your hair back. You swear you see it shaking out of the corner of your eye.

“I sure would like to be,” it was shaking. You know it surely, because his voice is as well. Vulnerable and honest, just how you like him, “We don’t have to tell the others, we can take it slow, but-”

“But we’re dating.”

It’s not a question. It’s a statement – an affirmation. You and Eddie Munson, the man you swore you hated just over a week ago, were dating.

He only nods, and you consider the way that his dimples might just swallow you whole instead of him.

Not enemies, not friends – lovers. It has quite the nice ring to it.

“Well, in that case,” you finally pull away, dropping your arms slowly and letting your fingers catch on the chain of the necklace he currently wears. A red guitar pick, something you’ll surely learn the story behind soon enough. “Better go and roll that fourth strike, boyfriend.”

His head rolls back, and a joking groan falls from his lips as his neck stretches and nearly distracts you momentarily, “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re making fun of me, you little shit.”

Another laugh falls from your lips as you step around him, quirking an eyebrow. Perfect first date, indeed.

“Get used to it, Munson.”

“I plan to, Sweetheart.”

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog @vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp @princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

join my taglist!

#ghost's stories #beyond the hours #twenty four hours #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x fem!reader #their love language is just being mean to each other i'll be honest #i've been nervous about posting extra content about them for a while but save the leaves #i might revamp the masterlist #also side note but i also think reader's outfit would totally get a scolding solely because that is not safe attire for riding on a bike #eddie should have shoved her into his jacket and scowled about it but he's just easily distracted by how pretty he finds her

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tsukimefuku · 1 month

Text

blunt trauma ♰ nanami kento

summary: your mission is to execute a curse user. the issue? said curse user is nanami kento, your former high school classmate and the man who you still secretly love.

tags and cw: dark content, no use of y/n, sorcerer!f!reader, villain!nanami, +18, explicit smut (mostly rough with tender moments hate/love sex), unprotected sex (wrap it, ppl), masturbation, oral (f receiving), pv, from enemies to enemies who fucked 👍, drama and angst (i’m a latina who grew up watching telenovelas), mentions of death, canon-typical violence, ptsd, cursing, hurt/no comfort, this man is saltier than the sea and turned it into everybody else's problem.

wc: 7.5k

notes etc.: somehow it became a character study. this is my rendition of what i think gege would make nanami to be like if they followed their original plan and had nanami be a villain. inspo list is so huge i had to make a playlist, i got carried away.

writing/reading soundtrack: playlist link ; main songs → way down we go (kaleo) and daylight (david kushner).

disclaimer: i do not in any way approve of (or encourage) the relationship depicted here. it is toxic and bad for all parties involved. this is fictional and should stay that way.

oh, father, tell me ♰ do we get what we deserve?

It felt like the air had been beaten out of your lungs by the very one and only blunt blade you ever knew when you heard the news from Gojo.

Of course the first thing he did when he finished wrapping things up was calling you. If roles were reversed, and this had been Geto, he wouldn't expect any less from you.

During the School's Exchange Event, Jujutsu High was attacked by multiple high grade curses and curse users.

One of them was your former best friend from high school, Nanami Kento.

"Are you certain it was him?"

"Absolutely," Gojo replied on the other side of the line, "there were traces of cursed energy from his cursed technique. He was also spotted by one of MeiMei's ravens."

"And how many students did he…"

"Two students from Kyoto."

Your head instantly felt dizzy.

"He also killed around a dozen assistants and people securing cursed objects underground."

"Shit… shit," you muttered, forgetting for a few seconds what words were and how to form a coherent sentence. Following suit, your stomach dropped with a sinking ache the moment you made the obvious realization, uttering the most painful thing you had to say in your life — even worse than he's gone, so many years before.

"This will earn him a death sentence, won't it?"

Gojo was silent for a few moments.

"Hey…"

"Tell me. I can take it."

After a bated breath — from your end, mostly — he confirmed your worst fears.

"Yes. It will."

Ever since Geto's and Nanami's defection, you and Gojo had a special type of shared sorrow over each other's failures to save the people you both loved the most. Call it trauma bonding or codependency, but you developed an unwavering sense of loyalty towards one another.

For that reason, he already knew what you were about to ask him, and you only would because you knew he wouldn't find it in himself to refuse it.

"When it happens, please, have me be appointed as the executioner."

"Of course."

Sitting with a glass of whiskey while gazing out of the window in an understated house just by the outskirts of Sendai, Nanami couldn't say he was fulfilled, unable to grasp the concept of feeling in any way elated ever since his teenage years. However, he was definitely satisfied that this plan had worked.

He managed to put a dent into Jujutsu Society, aiding Geto — or, at least, someone that looked like him, not that Nanami truly cared about it by this point — in retrieving multiple cursed objects that would be used for their inevitable fallout.

There had been a few casualties, though.

Two students and many personnel died — or rather, met their fateful end by the edge of his blunt blade —, but some deaths should be expected if Jujutsu Society was to be brought to the ground, down to its last brick.

Ever since that fateful day when he was nothing but a tall child sitting beside the cold corpse of his best friend, Yu Haibara, Nanami had simmered what would become a cauldron of absolute venom-dripping rage against Jujutsu Society.

To hell with saving other people — what about them? What about the teenager that would never grow to be a sorcerer, who became an inanimate nothing before ever getting the chance of making something out of himself?

That face… Nanami could never forget it. It haunted his dreams, even a decade later. Such a stark contrast between the light-spirited smiles and this cold, gray monolith that laid in the morgue.

They had no right to rob their students from their youth, much less from their lives, but that's exactly what Jujutsu High did when they didn't even bother to check the mission appropriately before dispatching Haibara and Nanami to a certain death.

Nanami escaped, but just barely, by the skin of his teeth. Haibara, however, wasn't blessed with the same luck, and drew the short straw when his hitched final breaths met their end against Nanami's shoulder. Nanami, who carried his best friend on his back, desperately tried to win a losing race against death.

Help was late to arrive.

They were too late for Haibara.

And, in a sense, they were too late for him, too.

The worst part, though, was when they were finally being transported all the way back to Jujutsu High. As he glanced over Haibara’s cadaver, now covered by a body bag, one particularly insensitive assistant very rudely stated, “at least there is a body to be buried.”

At least

There is a body

To be buried

Those words echoed in his head for what felt like eternity. Was that the best they all had to hope for? To at least have remains left behind for the mourning?

In any case, that was why, even though he had to kill, Nanami never mangled any of his human victims — something not easy to do, given how his technique worked and how easy it was to split someone in half.

You had noticed this perverted benevolence while looking over the necropsy reports, a realization that just added insult to injury.

Let there be something for the funeral, I suppose, was what he told himself.

In his own twisted way, Nanami figured this was a kindness very few sorcerers received at their tragic ends, and decided he'd definitely be more compassionate than what Jujutsu High put their sorcerers through.

In his eyes, those from Jujutsu High who died under his will were the ones granted a truly merciful death.

His peace was disturbed by the sound of the entrance door being brutally kicked in, flying its way across the living room. He pulled his blunt blade from the side of his armchair with his free hand, but quickly put it down when realizing it was you that had just barged inside.

He knew you very well — well enough to be certain you wouldn't come swinging at him immediately.

"I can see you still have a temper. Destroying the door wasn’t necessary, I would've opened it for you," he stated, sipping on his drink.

"I don't care," you retorted, "I guess you already know why I'm here, in any case."

"I do. You're here to carry out my death sentence," he stated, completely unbothered, as if talking about the weather.

As if he was just mundanely stuck in his ways.

You huffed, placing your hand over your sword's handle.

"Precisely."

"We haven't spoken in a long time, why don't you take a seat?" Nanami inquired, pointing at the armchair right in front of him. "I want to finish my drink."

You glared at the curse user, as he, unfazed, kept gulping on his whiskey. Nanami was wearing a black buttoned shirt, black pants and black oxford shoes, and you couldn't help but see him as a grim reaper — this was a somber look, fitting for the equally somber man who carried it.

For a second, you took in his features — you hadn’t seen Nanami for a few years after the last time you crossed paths.

His shoulders had slightly broadened, and he still bore the same chiseled face, framed by his sand-blond hair neatly slicked back.

Nanami’s eyes traveled over you quickly, apparently doing the very same thing.

Time had left its marks. It was evident you both had grown up — and apart.

You knew this was a shit idea, but entertained it enough that you actually walked towards the chair and sat down. There were definitely things to be talked about, and you just about had a million questions for him.

Most of them, however, boiled down to what you immediately asked.

"Why did you do it?"

Nanami put his glass on the coffee table right in front of you.

"It was a necessary means to an end."

His words came with frost-bitten coldness, his voice embodying the monotone you once loved, but eventually, grew to hate.

You scoffed, incredulous at his reply, involuntarily clenching your fingers around your katana's handle as it laid on your lap.

"Necessary means to an end? Nanami, you killed teenage sorcerers!"

"As I said, and I don't like repeating myself," he interjected, "it was a necessary sacrifice for a greater cause."

"You're such a hypocritical, self-righteous ass!"

Nanami sighed, clearly displeased.

"We have always been able to keep some semblance of respect for each other, despite our… differences. Do not use that foul language with me."

You laughed bitterly, no amusement or fun in your voice as you did.

"Do you think I can still have an ounce of respect for you after what you did? You murdered my people! They were all sorcerers. You killed students, Nanami! Jujutsu High's students! Just like Haibara once was!"

He shot his eyes at you, and the aura of his cursed energy grew sinister at your words.

"Don't say his name."

Yu Haibara, arguably the glue that kept the trio together. You were hot headed, Nanami was intransigent, and Yu was the conciliatory ray of sunshine that kept you two — but you, particularly — from constant quarreling as classmates nearly every day.

But back then, you'd argue with Nanami with love.

This wasn't the case now.

Not entirely, at least.

"He was my best friend too, the three of us were! Do you really think this is what he would've wanted?!" you questioned him, equal parts hurt and enraged.

"I'm not one to ponder on could've or would've been's. Haibara is gone."

"I'm not a would've been!"

You could still remember it. The day you realized why dealing with Nanami and hearing his sharp comebacks riled you up so intensely.

You finally understood you were in love with him.

Ever since the first day you met Nanami, you envied the way he'd be able to keep his feelings in check when you constantly felt like falling apart. You felt jealous at how he was considered a greatly competent individual, regarded by all as the best of your class, while you were basically viewed as a ticking bomb nearing explosion. And finally, it made you livid the way how everyone treated him like the informal leader of the trio when the three of you were out on a mission together.

However, those were the same things that got you to admire your friend and, eventually, fall in love for him.

That day, you asked Nanami to meet you outside after class by himself — much to Haibara's dismay —, because you had something to tell him. It was a Tuesday afternoon, and the unforgiving sun of summer was already setting, casting an orange glow through the leaves of the tree you were both under.

After confessing your feelings for him and bracing yourself for being shot down, because why the hell would Nanami Kento, the brilliant, competent, and mature second-year, have any interest in the chaotic, hot headed mess you were, you realized he actually looked surprised. After taking a few moments to collect himself, Nanami told you how he had thought you actually hated him.

At last, somewhat nervous — but definitely intent on not letting it show —, he confided he had affectionate feelings towards you as well.

Your first kiss was awkward, as it would be expected out of two inexperienced people such as you and Nanami were at that age, but it carried the sweet taste of a blue spring marked by teenage years' innocence.

It felt like a promise.

Unfortunately, such promise was unmercifully cut short the very next day, when Nanami and Haibara were dispatched to their life-changing mission.

What an irony it was that, in the end, you were the one to actually mature over Haibara's death, growing up to be an upstanding sorcerer, loved and admired by peers and students alike, and Nanami was the bomb to blow up in everybody's faces.

What a cruel irony.

"I was there too, and I'm still here, having to pick up the pieces of what you deliberately destroyed!" you rasped, angrily.

"You weren't a 'would've been'? Where were you when we needed you? When I needed you?" his voice didn't conceal the tinge of hurt that those questions carried.

What a fucking low blow.

"Nanami, that's not fair. There wasn't anything I could've done in that situation, and you know that!"

You blamed yourself for a while for not going on that mission with them, until you realized that you too would probably have died if you were there. From the three, Nanami was the only one strong and fast enough to pull off an escape like he did.

He diverted his gaze back to the window.

"You were the one to bring up hypothetical scenarios. Let's indulge in them for a minute, shall we?"

Nanami glanced back at you, and his next words brimmed with bitter resentment, even if his voice sounded more calm and collected than ever.

"You see someone you supposedly love slowly sinking into darkness. What do you do?"

"Don't you dare, you condescending prick! I asked you so many fucking times what was going on. You were the one who shut me out!"

Your voice carried a decade-old pain that resonated from the depths of your soul.

It came from all the times you entered his dorm room with his favorite sandwich after he had cooped up in there for days on end, and he didn't even bother to eat it. Every time you asked him to talk to you, said you were there for him, and was met by a vacant stare.

And, at last, the time when he cruelly blamed you for not being there when Haibara died.

The way he coldly told you about Haibara's last words.

According to Nanami, Haibara said he wanted to speak to you one last time, at least to bid you farewell.

And you weren't there.

Oh, the viciousness with which he blamed you, and decided you owed him something for this perceived failure.

The next time Nanami talked to you, he asked you to leave Jujutsu High with him, just like Geto did, and swore to destroy them. You tried, pleaded, implored for him to reconsider and stay, but the very following day, you were met by an empty room where the person you once loved used to be.

That emptiness had, paradoxically, filled you wholly with grief.

Gojo once told you that nobody could save someone who didn't want to be saved.

You still thought you should've tried harder, in a childish attempt at giving yourself an illusory semblance of control over that clusterfuck of a situation.

This is the gap inside our psyche that feeling guilty tries to fill, isn't it?

We can only feel guilty about the things we could've changed, right?

Your voice sounded decades older than yourself, burdening the weight of multiple lifetimes of hurt and grief. Your soul was too old for your own good.

"How can you find it in yourself to blame me for this?! No… This is a prison of your own making. You built the house of cards that is tumbling down on your head as we speak entirely by yourself."

He huffed intensely through his nostrils — Nanami’s version of a snort —, looking the other way before proceeding, each syllable hitting you with the deadly precision of his cursed technique.

"You abandoned us, leaving me and Haibara to fend for ourselves, just like Jujutsu Society did."

By that point, you began yelling, and your voice reverberated all across the room.

"The hell I did!"

You had to take a deep breath before proceeding.

"I just couldn't get behind this dumb idea that we should become curse users and bring down Jujutsu Society."

"Why didn't you come with me?" he finally asked, in an amalgam of pain, sadness, longing, anger, and stinging resentment. "I would have followed you to the deepest recesses of hell if you asked me to."

You huffed, laughing angrily in between your teeth, before thrusting your words like thorns against him.

"Funny you should say that. You'd go anywhere for me? How about staying? Why couldn't you have stayed for me, then?!"

Perhaps that request was egotistical, but you didn't care. If only for a moment, you wanted to give yourself this small privilege — to want in a world of duty.

"I was the one actually left to fend for myself, right inside the belly of the beast, and you couldn't have cared less."

He stared at you, nothing in his eyes other than the void left behind after his spirit got killed with his best friend so many years ago.

"I didn't stay because… Because," Nanami stated, with a grave finality, "and you're the one who chose to stay. You're still actively choosing to, just like you did back then."

"That's not a good enough answer," you replied with a bad taste in your mouth.

"It's what you've earned," he coldly replied, "but in case you change your mind-"

"Enough," you interrupted him, incredulous that even after everything, this man had the nerve of suggesting you'd ever be interested in running away with him. "It appalls me you would even consider I could… After what you've done? No, never."

Nanami sighed, and for a brief moment, seemed to be actually disappointed under his resigned, polished visage.

"Well, then. Let's get this over with, at once."

In a split second, you pushed your chair on the ground, falling on your shoulders and rolling on your back, dodging his lightning-fast attack. It left a crater behind, right where you were seconds before. Nanami jumped over the fallen armchair, and you dodged him once again, spinning on your heels, unsheathing your sword as you did so, to deal a beheading blow on the back of his neck.

However, right before impact, you faltered, slowing down your movement.

Your own body held you back from taking his life.

He didn't seem to notice.

Nanami bent down just in time to avoid the blow, and swung his blunt blade towards your kneecap. You were quick on your feet, and jumped back, putting a good distance between the both of you.

"I can see you're actually fighting to kill," he noted, getting up on his feet.

"Of course. That's what I came here to do," you spat in his direction.

"You were never the practical one."

You scoffed.

"Guess I learned something from you."

He smiled at the irony of that, but his eyes didn't follow his expression.

Nanami lunged at you, but while you thought he'd deal his next blow in your direction, he hit your footing, having you fall on the ground. Abruptly, his blunt blade descended in your direction, but you were able to catch it and have it slip to your side using your katana supported by your hand behind it, sending a sharp, loud sound around the vicinity, trembling against the bones and flesh of the house.

You rolled on your side when he struck a new hit in your direction, leaving another gaping hole on the floor, and you jumped yourself up.

Before you could attack him, however, he took you by surprise, and you lifted your sword to defend yourself. Nanami hit your katana with his blunt blade, breaking it near where the handle and the steel met, launching your body back on the wall.

The impact knocked the air out of your lungs, and you fell to your knees, unable to recover yourself as you got up. Instantly, you heard his quick, steady steps sprinting their way in your direction.

You were cornered.

This is it.

You braced yourself for the impact, closing your eyes. You remembered his technique perfectly.

Precise, just as he was.

Deadly, just as he was, too.

You were to die at the hands of the man you loved, who had become a murderer and only a distorted, broken version of whom you used to truly love.

This seemed like an oddly cruel way to go.

However, the impact never came.

His blunt blade stopped as it was about to hit your stomach, and you opened your eyes, just to see his face mere inches apart from yours. His mountainous form blocked your view from anything else behind him, and Nanami, at that moment, actually looked like the menace he truly was.

“Why were you appointed as my executioner?” Nanami asked, much to your surprise.

“I asked to be,” you answered, holding his gaze as something went through his eyes. A hint of anger, most likely, and some sense of betrayal, certainly.

“So, you want to kill someone you once loved? You were always prone to self-penitence, so it stands to reason you’d do something idiotic like that.”

You scoffed, grimacing at him, feeling your entire body incandescent with rage.

“I fucking hate you, Nanami.”

He inched his face even closer, brushing your noses against one another, eyes stone-cold and hauntingly vacant.

“I hate you as well.”

For a moment, you wondered if he had really stopped his blade before impact. You didn't expect it, but hearing those words felt like you just had been hit, victim of a blunt trauma, at how much they tore you apart.

The same blunt trauma that severed the Nanami you once knew — the teenager with bangs, who'd always be carrying around a few spare changes to get soda cans from the vending machine for you and Haibara, in his own understated kindness — and this empty monster looking back at you.

"Good. Finish me off, then, and get your revenge for a crime I never committed. Being unfair and an all-around self-centered asshole certainly suits you, fucker."

His hand made its way up your neck, and you were pressed against the wall. The grip was firm, but not enough to choke you — it came more as a warning than anything else.

"I already told you to stop using that foul language with me," he ordered, low voice simmering with genuine irritation.

"Then make me," you challenged him, hoping for this torture to be over as fast as possible.

Just fucking kill me already.

His blunt blade fell with a thud on the floor, and you were confused for a moment, wondering if he really wouldn't give you the kindness of a quick demise. Did he plan on choking you to death?

Did he hate you that much?

His other hand came up, but before you could do anything to try to resist — which would be nothing but a futile attempt at survival, given that Nanami was physically much stronger than you —, his fingers snaked their way through the back of your hair, tugging it at the roots.

His mouth clashed against yours, all teeth, tongue, anger, and hunger, and instantly every nerve in your body flared up with a raging fiery ember you hadn't felt in years. All the pent-up resentment, hurt, and desire you had for Nanami swirled together in your gut, guiding your hands up his hair, as you also pulled on it intently, robbing him of a gasp.

You intertwined your tongue against his, and he unceremoniously bullied his own inside your mouth, leaving no crevice unexplored, as his hand on your neck descended towards your waist, where he clenched his fingers with a vicious grip. You whimpered against his lips, and he grunted in return, pushing his body on yours. His throbbing growing cock could be felt, even through both of your clothes, as he pressed it right against the edge of your pants.

When you finally parted after what seemed like a not-long-enough eternity, you huffed and panted, and albeit less than you, he was panting too.

"I fucking… hate you…" you gnarled, glaring into his eyes. The hazel-brown gaze you once adored was now clouded and dark, like the muddy waters of a deep lake.

"Shut the fuck up," Nanami groaned back, strongly cupping your cunt with his large hand. You whimpered in surprise, and he pulled you in harshly for another kiss, letting go of your hair and sex to sink his fingers on the backside of your thighs, pulling them. You immediately jumped up and threw your arms around his shoulders, as he manhandled your legs to have them hooked around him.

He quickly took you both inside the room, and tossed you on the bed, having you gasping in surprise. Before you could catch your breath, he climbed his way on top of you, pressing your body down, and clashed his mouth against yours again, making you actually lightheaded from a lack of air.

You pushed against his chest, grunting uneasy, and surprisingly, he parted his lips from yours.

"What?"

You panted heavily, nearly hyperventilating, and mindlessly rested your hand on his cheek.

"C-can't breathe…" was all you mustered up to say, trying to replenish oxygen back into your system.

His eyes softened so discreetly you nearly missed it, and his cold-ivory enclosure slightly cracked under the affectionate touch he didn't expect.

Nanami had no idea how much he had craved it ever since you parted ways, and hated himself, just a little, for how much such an innocuous gesture stirred his old feelings up, throwing his heart against his chest in a fluttering rush.

I should be over her by now, dammit.

Nanami also brought his hand up your face, and ghosted over your cheek for a second before sliding his fingers delicately down over it.

You also weren't prepared for that, and your chest tightened all over your heavy heart as you remembered your first kiss.

The way he'd cup your face in his hands.

So delicate, so lovely.

This touch, at this very moment, felt like a painful reminder of everything you had lost.

"Kento…" you cooed, voice strained in your throat, with all the things you were sure you'd never say.

He hummed your name in return, and kissed you while sinking your body against the mattress. This kiss was different, as his lips brushed gently over yours, and his tongue tenderly teased over the seam of your mouth. You welcomed him in, and you both explored these deep waters tentatively, as he upped the intensity after each stroke of your tongues against each other.

He tasted like whiskey, and bread, and the tainted love left behind as nothing but a reminiscence of less grueling days. You couldn't help but feel robbed by him.

You both had been missing out on this for all these fucking years.

"Why did you have to go?" you asked, pulling back from him, a tinge of anger to your cadence, and another of pain in your face.

"Why did you have to stay?" he spat back at you, equal parts saddened and resentful.

His mouth made its way to your neck, and you gasped with the sensation of his warm breath mingled with saliva against your skin, as he licked and bit his way around.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to push him away, and your eyes burned with the prickling sensation of tears that wouldn’t come. You were starved for his touch, his smell, his body, even if this was the murderer of your students, of your friends.

In your head, you felt like digging a hole and throwing yourself in it, to wallow in the misery of realizing that you were about to fuck the murderer of people you loved, and that it felt good.

A pool of heat and fire shot down your insides as your heartbeats throbbed in between your legs.

You hated yourself, and on top of it all, hated Nanami.

Hated that you couldn't help but still love him, even after all he had done.

This was the setting tension in between the both of you, the two extremes of hate and love pulling against each other, all while the tug of war rope refused to snap to either side.

He pulled your shirt over your head, tossing it aside, and you undid his shirt, unzipping his pants. He unzipped you too, and quickly enough, took off your pants along with your panties with a single sharp tug.

Back to rough, but not entirely, it seemed.

His hand glided against your thigh and his fingertips slipped over your entrance, getting completely glazed by your already dripping arousal. He grunted, a guttural and intense sound deep in his chest, giving you another bite on the soft skin of your neck.

"Hate me?" Nanami asked, teasing his digits over your cunt, "doesn't seem like it."

You managed to scoff at him, which would prove to be a mistake.

"Go fuck yours-"

Before you could finish your sentence, he dove two of his fingers inside knuckle-deep, without any hint of a warning, forcefully stretching your walls around them. You immediately let out a whimper so pitiful you wondered if that was really your voice.

He seemed satisfied at that. Perhaps, even elated.

"Good girl," Nanami whispered right beside your ear, nibbling against your earlobe with his teeth, sending shivers down your spine. He began sliding his fingers in and out, and you bucked down against his hand while moaning and mewling, walls sheathing his digits as he finger-fucked your cunt, neglecting your clit as punishment for calling him a condescending prick earlier.

His palm rucked against your dripping folds, echoing wet slaps all throughout the room, as your arousal kept pooling on his palm.

He mumbled softly against your skin, bringing his mouth up to brush against yours, "hate… you still love me."

You instantly drew one of your hands to slap him in the face for this hurtful teasing, but he had quick reflexes — quicker than yours. He dodged himself back as your hand hit the empty sheets, and edged his fingers to hit against your soft spot, pressing it so violently, you let out a strained cry from the shooting overstimulation pain.

"Ah- Shit!" you shouted, face all scrunched up.

"Can't you behave for once?" he chided, "why is it so hard for you to j-just-“

Nanami’s breath hitched in his throat as he grunted, unable to finish his sentence.

You shut him up the only way you could think — grabbing his cock harshly over his boxers. It was extremely effective, and he immediately humped his length against your hand, while lowly groaning.

With trembling hands and a violent snap, you haphazardly pulled his boxers down to his mid-thighs, as his fingers kept mercilessly bullying their way inside you, sending vibrating waves all throughout your body with every thrust.

“Stop… telling me… ah-aaah-“ you rolled your eyes back with a loud moan, struggling to keep a train of coherent thought, gnarling your next words, “what to… ah- do!”

His cock sprang out, slapping against his belly. The tip was already flustered red, leaking with pre-cum, and had a long, prominent vein on the underside.

To punish him back for the roughness, you grabbed his length with one hand, and with the other, pressed the middle of your palm against his flushed tip, glistening his arousal around it with enough force to jump across the divide between intense pleasure and painful overstimulation.

Nanami cursed with a feral voice through his teeth, immediately biting the side muscles of your neck with no semblance of restraint, making sure to leave a purple remnant of pain etched on your skin.

“Ah- ouch! Fuck!” you spat out, tightening your grip around his cock, but weakened enough to release the tight pressure against his tip, letting him fuck into your hand. His hips bucked erratically, and his lips pressed a quick kiss right where he had previously bitten.

He couldn't help it.

Suddenly, Nanami stopped his rutting fingers to press his thumb against your already throbbing clit. That instantly had you seeing stars as you cursed loudly in between moans and grunts, drawing your free hand to his head, ferociously tugging at his hair, as heat pooled in your lower abdomen like fiery embers of coal.

He grabbed your arm, pulling it away from his shaft, and removed his fingers from your walls, having them clenching around nothing at such a sudden emptiness. You began complaining, only to have your voice cut short by his tongue slipping its way inside your mouth, in a sloppy, wet kiss.

Parting from you, Nanami’s eyes were glassy, and you were absolutely sure your gaze must’ve looked just as hazy as his.

In a brief moment, before you realized it, he slid himself down, and unceremoniously lapped at your already sensitive clit with his warm tongue, hot breath tickling against your sensitive skin.

Both of your hands descended towards his hair, brushing over his golden and now messy locks more tenderly than you expected. Nanami suddenly shivered and moaned into your cunt, edging his tongue down your folds and back, eyes fluttering shut the moment he tasted you entirely.

He felt a tinge of pain clench at his chest, realizing this was the taste he had missed out on for all that time — your taste, which would surely ruin him forever.

Nanami’s pain, however, was quick to turn into outrage, as he began sucking on your clit relentlessly, eliciting the most animalistic sounds you had ever uttered.

You instinctively tried backing away, and he pulled on your thighs, holding them with such a violent force that his hand was sure to leave an engraving of his digits over your plush skin.

Nanami was intent on dragging this orgasm out of you by any means necessary.

You had never given him anything he wanted from you — be it the company to fight against Jujutsu High or the same unwavering loyalty he had for you. So this was something he’d take.

If you wouldn’t be by his side, then the least you could do was to cum for him so fervently, he’d be sure to ruin you just as much as he felt like you had ruined him. You owed him that, or so Nanami thought.

“Aaah-- Kento! S-slow d-… fuck!”

You came with a thunderous shout, jolting your hip forward as your thighs tightened with inhuman strength to the sides of his head. Nanami made sure to deliciously lick your way down from your high, applying such a precise and perfect pressure on your clit that you could’ve wept from sheer satisfaction.

After your legs went limp, he slowly climbed his way back to you, pressing kisses all over your body, leaving a ghost of heat wherever his mouth traveled. When Nanami finally reached your face, he put his forearms against your sides, hands over your shoulders, caging you in, as he pressed his mouth against yours in a slow kiss.

You were floating in a calm sea, salty waves caressing your body every time they passed through, and it felt cozy. Inviting, even. As he parted his lips from yours, Nanami gazed into your eyes in the way he used to.

For a second, you got catapulted into the past, and the orange sun that warmed your cheeks through the leaves as you kissed for the first time seemed to shine its rays over again.

With his arms around you, the nonsensical feeling of being protected washed over your heart.

“Come with me,” he whispered with a sultry, husky voice.

“Kento…” you cooed, sighing, wanting nothing more than for this moment to extend for infinity.

But it couldn’t.

You didn’t go with him, so many years ago.

And wouldn’t go now, either.

That wasn’t how it worked for the both of you.

Nanami understood it, and what seemed like another crack against his unwavering walls had formed the moment his brows furrowed above his eyes.

“Fine, then,” he said, with a tinge of genuine hurt to his voice.

You parted your thighs to accommodate his hips, and he obliged, guiding his hand down to align his cock against your entrance. You bent and hooked your legs around him, pulling him in, and as the tip of his length got pressed against your dripping cunt, he gasped slightly over your lips.

Nanami sunk in slowly, going through your already relaxed ring. However, it apparently wasn’t relaxed enough, or perhaps he was just too big, because you could feel every inch of stretching his cock made against your walls as he slowly bottomed out inside your cunt.

His mouth fell open and you exhaled a moan into it, breaths mingling together. You two drank each other in. Nanami pressed his forehead against yours, and you both held each other’s gaze, as he pulled your left wrist above your head, holding it there, pushing you down the mattress by your waist with his other hand.

After a moment for you to take him in, Nanami began rolling his hips into you, while his hand kept bruisingly pressing your wrist against the mattress. You could feel his balancing act of trying to love you and wanting to hurt you at the same time.

You weren’t so different from him in that sense, though. Your nails got dragged down his back with abrasive force, and for a second, you considered drawing blood from him. He grunted, and you saw the spark of cold-hearted anger flash through his now dimmed eyes.

You both wanted to love each other just as much as you wanted to hurt each other.

In a more forgiving universe, perhaps, he’d hold your hand tenderly, intertwining his fingers in yours. Maybe you two would be in the kitchen as he showed you one of his favorite bread recipes, and share quiet moments of understanding companionship when remembering those who had left this world too soon.

But this wasn’t that universe, unfortunately.

He was to die, and you were to carry out his execution.

Except you couldn’t, because even if you still tried to cling on to any sliver of morals, even if his life was something yours alone to take, the mere thought of a world without Nanami was far worse than the reality of a world in which he was a murderer.

You insisted on fighting a losing game, and much to no one’s surprise, you lost.

Good riddance to me, I suppose.

His grunts came hitched and stuttered against your mouth as he was now rutting himself into you, biting your lower lip hard enough to almost pierce the skin with his teeth. You moaned loudly, dragged around with pain and pleasure, the combo that seemed to summarize the gist of your relationship.

He let go of your wrist and descended his hand without a warning towards your already overworked clit, glazing his thumb against the ring of arousal you were leaving around him before starting to make circles around your nub. Your moans came out cracked and faltering, as you tried to resist the instinctive urge of fleeing that the overstimulation was eliciting.

“Give me… one more,” Nanami groaned lowly against your cheek, planting multiple kisses down the side of your face and your chin. His hair — which had already fallen from its usual slick arrangement — brushed against your fluttering eyelids, momentarily weaving golden sand colors over your your vision, and you drove both your hands to the back of his head, pulling him in for another kiss.

You could kiss him like this forever.

You actually wanted to, at that moment.

To his request, you nodded, and this was probably the first time you acquiesced to any request Nanami had ever made to you.

Fulfilled, his thrusts and his finger over your clit became increasingly erratic, as he was now moaning your name against your mouth. You pushed your tongue over his, sliding your hands up his head to tug at his roots, and that was all it took to tip him over the edge.

Nanami came with a muffled groan, having your tongue still pushed inside his mouth, and kept pumping himself inside you trying to keep the comedown at bay. His thick, white cum got glazed all over inside you, and the slaps of flesh and skin began sounding ever more wet than they already were.

You weren’t so far off, with your walls fluttering around him, and he noticed it, keeping his now trembling thumb pressed and circling intently over your clit. With one perfectly applied nudge on your sensitive bud, Nanami finally pulled you over the edge along with him.

Some tears began pooling on the edges of your lashes, and all your emotions — anger, sadness, grief, longing, and a particular brand of despair you cultivated during the last decade — came crashing down as he wrenched your second orgasm from you.

Your body convulsed under him, fluttering walls expelling his softening cock out, as you shouted and grunted into his mouth. You didn’t know if you were more furious at yourself for still loving him, at him for loving you, or at Jujutsu Society for jumbling you both like pawns to be tossed around until you two were broken beyond repair.

Angry at them for sending the young out to have their spirits crushed too soon. For all the deaths no one got to mourn because there was too much work, too little time, and the wounded were always left behind to fend for themselves.

Just like you were.

And just like Nanami was.

You sat at the edge of the bed while putting your shirt back on, and looked back at Nanami, who had his buttoned shirt open over his chest.

“Are you still resolute on your decision of not coming with me?” Nanami asked, with a tinge of eagerness. Or maybe it was just your imagination.

You pondered for a moment, and knew exactly what the answer to that question was.

“Yes. I’m not coming with you.”

For a second, you caught the faintest glimpse of the person he used to be. Something aching to genuine disappointment.

The longing that flashed through him, unfortunately, was quick to go, as he began buttoning his shirt down, averting his gaze elsewhere.

“Why?”

“Because I’d hate myself for the rest of my life if I did,” you stated, sighing before continuing, “and it’s not because I can’t kill you or because I love you that I don’t despise you. You crossed an uncrossable line.”

He pursed his lips, and almost felt regretful for the path he chose.

Almost, since regret now would come ten years too late.

“You can’t go back. They will know you let me go,” Nanami remarked. Be it from him or from looking around this house, Jujutsu High would surely hold you accountable for this — for willingly letting the curse user and murderer, Nanami Kento, escape their wrath.

“I know that,” you replied, a tad bit more defeated than you expected, “that’s why I’m fleeing to Hokkaido.”

He sighed and looked at you. You held his gaze, feeling a little hint of anxiety at what he seemed to be simmering under the surface.

With a warmer expression — or as warm as he could muster it up to be —, Nanami spoke again.

“I truly want you to come with me. You’d be safer. We’d… be by each other’s side.”

For a moment, you faltered, open lips with no sound coming out of them. Blinking yourself back to Earth, you asked, “you mean together?”

Nanami kept silent, but nodded, waiting for your response.

He wasn’t just asking for you to come with him, but to be with him.

You wanted to. You did. Something Nanami never knew was just how much you wanted to follow him when he asked you the same thing, so many years ago.

But even though you wholeheartedly loved him with every minute part of your being, your loyalty lied elsewhere.

Not with him, but with the people he had killed.

Well, at least that was the comfortable lie you were capable of living with.

It would destroy you to realize the loyalty you had for the murderer of the people you loved.

In the end, even if you weren’t a teenager anymore, you were just as much a hostage to your feelings as you had always been.

The ticking took a long time, but the bomb eventually went off.

With a decade’s old delay.

“I… just can’t. I can’t.”

Nanami reclined himself against the wall over which the bed rested, closing his eyes as he supported the back of his head on it.

He never told you, but this moment broke his heart all over again.

He felt pathetically small.

Guess we get what we deserve, after all.

“You really do have a taste for penitence,” Nanami noted, his voice barely concealing the bitterness that tainted those words.

You scoffed, getting up on your feet, ready to leave as the first rays of sunshine began bleeding through the thick curtains that covered the bedroom’s window.

“Go to hell.”

He chuckled, a sound you hadn’t heard in a very long time. However, it sounded off-key. Wrong.

Sad.

“We’re already here.”

At the end of it all, he wasn’t wrong.

You were doomed to always keep leaving each other.

If only the world had been a little kinder.

But kindness, it seemed, wasn’t in the cards for you.

End notes: I’m silently screaming. Oh my, this one took way longer than expected, but I enjoyed the writing process during every step of the way (I mean, if that wasn’t evident already from the fact that I made a playlist for this 😂). I forgot how much I was a sucker for gut wrenching angst. Hope you enjoyed it too! 🦉

Tag list: @actuallysaiyan @diogodxlot @jadedjane @redlikerozez @voiceless9000

@marvelousfanfictionbitch @kentocalls @ohhheymessa @magical-girl-b @simp-manhwa

@codenamesongbird

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gglitch1dd · 1 year

Text

Good Afternoon

Alpha Izuku Midoriya x Omega Reader

Izuku hates father's day, but with the birth of his new son, he can't help but find beauty in the day too.

AN: Sorry to post this so late onto here. It was first on AO3 but I was way too tired to put it on here.

Warning: Children, SMUT, NSFW, Lactation Kink, mentions of post partum body, OMEGAVERSE, Domestic fluff, sorta quickie, BREEDING, mxf, AFAB READER ?but gender neutral pronouns)

“ProHero Deku!”

Midoriya wiped the sweat off his eyebrows as he took a breath, closing his eyes for just a second. He had just defeated a rater large and powerful villain that had needed his attention. Midoriya was tired but at least he got the fight over and done with. To be honest, he got most of the cases and emergencies today over and done with pretty quickly. Today the green haired Alpha was in no mood to deal with any villains, thieves, arsonists or emergencies of any kind. To be fair, his mind wasn’t on work today. Nor was it for the past two weeks. The Alpha was in no mood to be out of his own home actually, not with the condition you were in. It would be any day now that his Omega, his beloved partner and rock, would give birth to his pup.

A son.

His first born son, son of the Number One hero of Japan. It was almost ridiculous how many people were so excited and happy at the news. Almost a picture perfect image for Midoriya and he couldn’t help but agree. He was the Alpha with everything. He had the money, the career, the loving Omega and soon he would have the pup. It was perfect. Midoriya felt as if everything was perfect. The only reason Midoriya wasn’t with you right now was because he wanted to soak up every second of leave time that he could have with you the moment his son was born. Of course, there was a lot of anxiety being first time parents, but that was swept away by you. Truly, today he was just upset over one thing and one thing in particular.

“ProHero Deku!”

The green haired Alpha turned his attention to the press down below on the sidewalk. Midoriya floated down to them from where he was, landing on the blocked off road with a heavy thump. The large Alpha ran a hand through his hair luscious green locks as his cape bellowed behind him. He put on his camera winning smile and immediately the cameras went flashing.

“Another great day, Deku especially for this years Father’s Day.” The reporter stated, as they all started to crowd him with mics. Midoriya’s face faltered.

Father’s day.

That’s what he was upset about. It was what had him on edge all day.

Midoriya hated father’s day. He hated it ever since he was but a pup himself. He hated it ever since he couldn’t spend a single one that he remembered with his own father. His own sire who he’d rather not think about for a second let alone have a day surrounding it. Midoriya didn’t understand why he, a man that could never have a day with his father, be forced to be happy and join in the celebrations of such a day that he found meaningless.

His father tried to kill him when they reunited again.

People should understand why he isn’t exactly, jumping for joy for this one day of the year.

“It’s just another day being a hero.” Midoriya answered with a smile, sharp canines on hid display as he answered the reporter with a shrug. “Gotta keep the city safe regardless, especially with a special day like today.”

Another reporter moved forward to ask a question. “Deku, any plans for this father’s day?”

Midoriya chuckled shaking his head. “Unfortunately not, although I did send AllMight on a cruise for the special occasion, so I would like to think he’s having a fantastic time.”

“How far are you and Dynamight with the Jojo case?”

The green haired Alpha was relieved to hear a question that wasn’t about this stupid day. “It’s up to the courts now. Dynamight and I have done our parts and will continue to monitor the case but we trust in the judicial system and are being kept informed as we speak.”

“Deku!” Midoriya turned around as one of his sidekicks came running, a phone in hand as they ran to him. Midoriya took a step back from the reporters, his eyebrows furrowed in worry at the look on their face. The sidekick stopped just in front of him. “It’s your Omega, sir.” Immediately Midoriya took a step forward, fear instantly going through him. “They’re in labour, sir.” He notified the Number One hero.

Immediately, it was as if a bucket of cold water washed over him. He froze as everything around him went silent all at once. Midoriya was stuck frozen for a second. “What?” His side kick nodded his head as he passed the phone over to him. Midoriya looked down at the phone, still shocked at everything happening around him. He couldn’t even hear the screaming reporters that wanted a scope on the number one hero’s Omega about to give birth. he put the phone to his ear as he turned around walking away from everyone, leaving his sidekicks to deal with the press. “Hello?”

“Izuku.” It was Kirishima, his voice having a slight tone of urgency as he spoke over the phone.

Midoriya swallowed down hard. “Head Alpha.” He spoke.

“YN. Apparently they’ve been in labour since this morning but the femmes only told us now that the pup should be born any minute now.”

Midoriya stilled, he closed his eyes knowing that it was so like you to keep things under wrapped until the last second especially when you didn’t want people to worry. “I’ll be there in a second.” He answered. He put down the phone. With his demeanour changed to one of determination, Midoriya handed the phone to his side kick. “I’m on leave.” He told them all simply, before pushing off the ground in a loud bang of sound, flying off.

Midoriya couldn’t care about anything else as his heartbeat loudly in his chest. Maybe that was one of the reasons his heart was beating out of his chest. Maybe that was why he felt so uneasy today. You, his loving Omega were fighting so hard to bring his pup in the world and here he was running around the city playing hero. Midoriya wanted to slap himself in the face for not picking up on it sooner.

It didn’t take longer than two minutes before he landed with a loud thump on the road outside his house in the pack estate.

He looked up at the door to see Bakugou was leaning against the doorway, with an expectant look. “You sure took your time.” He spoke with a frown.

Midoriya quickly made a jog towards the blond Alpha to his front door. “Where are they?” he asked, only focused on you and nothing more. He pushed past the blond inside his doorway, just barely kicking off his shoes before marching to the staircase.

“Whoa! Easy there, Izuku.” Shinso stopped him as he just barely wrapped his binding cloth around the green haired Alpha, stopping him in his tracks. The mascs were downstairs with him with most of the femmes upstairs helping you with the birth.

Midoriya shook his head as he tried to escape Shinso’s hold and head upstairs. “I have to get to them.” He spoke eagerly.

“Not like that, you aren’t.” Bakugou shot back with a frown. Immediately Kirishima, Bakugou and Shinso started dragging Midoriya over to his downstairs bathroom. “You just came off the streets and you want to walk into your Omega’s nesting room, let alone where they are having your pup? You must be more stupid than I thought.” Bakugou shook his head as they shoved him inside the bathroom. Shoto brought him a change of clothes they had waiting for him, putting it on the counter.

“But I-”

Kirishima smiled as he moved to close the door. “The quicker you get yourself cleaned up and presentable, the quicker you can go to them.” He informed him before closing the door.

Midoriya was tired of this antics, just wanting to be with you but he knew they were right. He needed to be clean and he also needed to get his head in order. Midoriya took in a breath before quickly moving to slip off his hero uniform. He scrubbed his arms and face so hard he was sure he was turning pink. He didn’t want even a hint of a risk on infecting you or the pup. Once that was done, he made hasty work of changing into sweatpants and slipping into slippers before harshly throwing open his door. He ran out of the bathroom and nearly slid onto the floor trying to get to the staircase.

“They ain’t going anywhere, Izuku!” Sato said amusedly as the rest of the mascs watched the green haired alpha try not to break down his house trying to get to you.

Bakugou scoffed, folding his arms over his chest as he watched amusedly. “I don’t think he knows that.”

Midoriya made it to the top of the stairs. He quickly made his way to your nesting room. His heart was beating out of his chest as he felt it sitting in his throat. He took in a deep breath. He had to be stronger than his. He had faced so many dangers, villains and even death himself and yet he had never felt more scared than he was now. He knocked on the door, not entirely sure what else to do.

He heard some shuffling but not even a second later the door opened. Looking up at him was Momo who looked surprised but then she smiled dearly at him. She chuckled. “We were just about to call you, Izuku.” She told him as she stepped to the side. She turned to look into her room. Her sleeves were pushed up her arms as she stood with a content smile on her face. “YN, guess who’s here?”

You turned your head, looking at your green haired Alpha tiredly as you lay in your nest. You had a bundle in your arms as you looked to him. You let out an amused chuckle at the look of bewilderment on Midoriya’s face. “Come in, Izuku. He doesn’t bite.” You teased him as you looked down at the small pup in your arms. “At least not yet anyways.”

Midoriya took a hesitant step forward, every step seemingly harder than the last. The room smelt of happy scents that crowded around him. Melissa was watching your vitals, making sure you were okay at all times while the rest of the femmes were either cooing at the new baby or rushing around getting the room cleaned. Midoriya approached you near the bed where your nest was, he moved to your side.

He let out a shaky breath, moving his forehead against yours. “Y/N.” He closed his eyes as he caressed the side of your face lovingly. A rumble came out of his chest knowing that you were alright and with him.

You smiled at the Alpha’s affection. You moved your nose to nudge his as you purred up at him lovingly. “Izuku…”

“I’m so sorry I missed it.” He apologised quietly, squeezing his eyes shut as he tilted his head. “Are you okay? Are you alright? It was so stupid I-”

You shushed him sweetly before he went off on a tangent. You saw him squeeze his eyes some more almost in pain but then he eased up, his green jade eyes fluttering open to you gently. Nothing but a soft look on his face. You smiled at the sight of your loving Alpha. “It doesn’t matter.” You told him. “And besides, you are just in time to meet your son.” You told him gently turning your attention down to your arms at the little whimpering baby in your arms. “Come on Toshi, lets say good afternoon to your dad.”

Midoriya was hesitant but he looked down. Immediately he felt his world stop as everything around you seemed to fade away and it was just him sitting next to you and your son in your arms. You gently handed the baby over to him. Midoriya was fearful at first, not knowing what to do, but he automatically held the small newborn like he was taught to in those parental classes that the both of you went to.

The little boy was exactly like his father. A full set of curly green hair that was unmistakably and irreplaceably a Midoriya family trait. His chubby cheeks had tiny little freckles that were so faint, he wasn’t even sure that they were there and had the softest skin on earth. He let out a sound akin to a kitten almost with an upset look. Strong green eyes that looked up at his sire almost confused and a bit scared himself. He was just as timid as Midoriya was when he was younger.

Midoriya let out a gentle scoff but smiled. “Hey there…” He whispered down to the little boy. “Hi… I… I’m your dad.” He whispered with a gentle smile, moving to position the little baby against his chest.

You watched with a genuine smile as your Alpha put his son against his chest. The little boy let out a small whine before settling against his father with a gentle coo, closing his eyes once more. Midoriya lowered his head as he bit back a sob. His large hands holding the small pup almost scared that he would lose him. Midoriya had rivers flowing out of his eyes the moment he first laid eyes on the pup but he didn’t notice it until now.

He turned to you, his pupils huge with adoration as he reached down closer to you. You felt your own tears at your eyes. He was crying, and he felt horrible for crying like a baby but he couldn’t help it. “Thank you.” He whispered with such utter gratitude in every syllable.

You opened your eyes looking up at him. “Happy Father’s Day, Izuku.”

You smiled as you leaned against the doorway looking at Midoriya who was looking down at his son with such love in your eyes, it made your heart swell. It had already been two months since you had Toshinori and life had been nothing but filled with love. Of course, as first time parents you rarely slept as is and you often found yourselves rarely showering in a two day cycle, quite literally forgetting with Toshinori around. However, Midoriya soaked up every minute of it. The large green haired Alpha loved being at home with you and his new son.

Everytime it was mentioned he started to get tears in his eyes. He promised himself he would stop crying but there hasn’t been a day since Toshinori was born that he hadn’t cried himself into a sobbing mess at how amazing your son was for two months old already, at how cute he was, at how amazing you are for bringing him another star to add to his solar system, then he would start crying some more at how much he felt he didn’t deserve this. Although parenthood and being an active hero were two very demanding things, Midoriya could safely say he would drop everything to be here with the two of you.

You walked over to your Alpha, being careful not to be too loud as you didn’t want to wake up Toshinori from his afternoon nap. You wrapped your arms around him, his warm body underneath your hold comforted you immensely. You looked up at him, although a slightly tired look on his face, he looked so content. You chuckled softly, placing a kiss to his shoulder. “We’re going to miss you, you know.” You spoke softly.

Midoriya moved his arm to encase you in his hold, bringing you closer to him, a content rumble going through his chest as he turned to look down at you. He let out a heavy breath as he wrapped you in his arms and placed a kiss to your forehead. “I kind of don’t want to go back.” He admitted. You giggled making him smile gently at the sound he found angelic. “Is that bad?”

You shook your head. “No… it’s not.” You reassured him as you gave him a pointed look. “I… I want to be selfish and say not to.”

He let out a low groan as he wrapped his arms around you tighter, burying his head in the crook of your neck. He took a breath of your scent that he always found addicitive. It had turned sweeter and milkier since your pregnancy and hadn’t stopped since you were pumping milk for Toshinori. He was addicted to the smell of you, the taste of you, the feel of you, but he had restrained himself not wanting to come on to you until you were ready. “Don’t say that.” He whined making you chuckle at the large oversized baby you had in your arms now. “I want to stay.”

“Yah, but…” You swallowed down hard as you rubbed his back soothingly. “Japan needs its Number One hero.” You remind him. “The people need you.”

“The people have Kacchan.” You let out a soft chuckle at his deflection. He moved to kiss over your mating mark making you gasp for a second as your hold on him grew possessive. “I… I feel like I haven’t had enough time to appreciate you yet.” He whispered against your neck.

Your hands moved down the muscles of his back. So defined and expansive that everyone time you saw his back was enough to get you in the mood. He was too gorgeous for your own health. You didn’t know how you were so lucky as to end up with the number one hero of your country, to end up with the ProHero who was on billboards, magazines, talkshows. His smile alone could capture the hearts of every Omega in Japan and yet he always aimed it at you, for you, with you in mind.

It was a bit intimidating to be honest.

But you couldn’t think of that right now. All you could think of was the fact that your Alpha hadn’t touched you in months and you had been craving his skin for so long. You tightened your hold on him as you moved to take a breath of his scent. The scent of a new book, sweet ink and almost of the forest when it rained. It was so uniquely him. It was perfect.

“I miss you.” You whispered against his neck. You gasped as you moved closer to him. “I want you.” You whispered in need.

Midoriya raised his head, closing his eyes, not wanting to rush into something. “Honey-”

“Izuku, I need you.” You brought your hands behind his neck, looking up at him. “My body aches for you. Please, I’m ready. It’s okay.”

Midoriya hesitated but when he looked down at you, the way you looked as if you were so ready and waiting for him with open arms, he couldn’t say no. Especially with your gown open and he was able to see your chest without hinderance. He let out a soft groan before reaching down and cupping the back of your head and kissing you ferociously. You let out a purr from your chest at the feeling of him and in return he sent a rumble back.

Midoriya felt his mind go numb just at the feeling of you. Life was perfect for him right now and he wouldn’t change a thing. You felt his need for you grow tremendously as he moved his hands to undo your gown and feel the bare skin underneath. He chuckled into the kiss, finding that you were already planning for this. His rough hands moved to caress up your body, grabbing at your breasts. A whine was pulled out of you as he did so, the pain moving into pleasure as he rubbed his thumb over your nipples, small beads of white wetting his fingers.

You separated for air but Midoriya found you insatiable, his mouth moving to land on your scent gland. You let out a whine at the feeling of his warm mouth on your mating mark. The rush that went down your back making you want to crumble to your knees. Midoriya seemed only more determined the moment he heard the noise that left your mouth. He was desperate for your pleasure and your sounds. You moved your hand to tug on his curls making him release a low groan.

“Izuku,” You let out breathlessly. “We… we can’t…”You bit back a groan as his mouth kissed down to your nipples, aching and waiting for his attention. Eagerly he took one into his mouth sucking and lapping at the sensitive bud that was leaking already. You had to bite back a loud moan, being barely conscious of the sleeping infant not even a meter away. “Izuku. Toshinori.” You pointed out.

Midoriya picked you up easily, sweeping you into his arms effortlessly as he quickly made his way out of Toshinori’s room. He sped down to the master bedroom, quickly racing into the bedroom. The moment he had kicked open the door and closed it behind the two of you, you were trapped with no way but through him. The baby monitor was luckily already on so with nothing else stopping or hindering the Alpha, Midoriya lay you down on the bed, moving back to sucking the sweet milk that came from your breasts.

You gasped as you arched your back at the pleasure. You dug your hands through his curly green hair pushing him closer to you, needing more pressure from him. You whined in need as your face twisted in pleasure. Midoriya’s large hands travelled up your body, grabbing at your free nipple, twisting it in his fingers making you gasp.

The large Alpha on top of you couldn’t help but smirk as he looked at you, his green devious eyes finding pleasure in what he was causing to you.

“Izuku…” You moaned out into the air. “Alpha Please.” You begged as you tried to squeeze your thighs together but with his body in the way, you found no such relief even in that action.

You hissed as he moved to the next nipple, giving it the same attention as the other. Only this time, one of his hands travelled lower, opening your robe and pulling it off you to reach your wet sex. His fingers rubbed circles on your sensitive clit and immediately you tensed as you dug your nails into his back. You let out a keen at the pleasure, so relieved to finally have him touching you there again after so long. You felt so sensitive it was almost embarrassing at how much slick your body was producing due to the Alpha’s antics.

Midoriya let out a low chuckle as he let go of your breast with a pop. He grinned down at you, finding you insatiable. A low growl coming out of his chest as he looked down at you. “You’re so sensitive my love. You’ve been missing me so much? Hm?” He asked you as his calloused fingers moved up and down your slick, playing with your clit in the process. You nodded your head with a whimper. “Come on, love. You know how I like my Omega to answer me.” He moved his free hand up to your neck, not squeezing but keeping his hand there leisurely. “Answer properly.”

You nodded your head. “Yes, Alpha. I’ve missed you! I miss you so much! I need you inside me.”

A loud rumble came out of his chest at your words, finding approval in them. His sharp canines glinted down at you in the afternoon light as he towered of you. “That’s my good Omega.” He praised. “How can I say no to that?”

Easily tearing your robe off of you, Midoriya made quick work of ditching his sweatpants. You bit your lip as you whimpered at the sight of his cock, already leaking pre. You flicked your eyes up to him, his eyes stuck on your body as if it was the most desirable thing in the world. You had a lot of insecurities because of your pregnancy, but Izuku seemed to just destroy every single one of them with his endless love for you. Even know you felt it hard to believe he was looking down at you with such hunger.

Easily the green haired Alpha caged you underneath him, moving to wrap your legs around his torso, positioning himself perfectly at your entrance. He looked deep into your eyes. “Look at me, beautiful.” He whispered. “No where else. Just me.”

You nodded your head but before you could give him a verbal answer, you felt the head of his cock pushing inside you. You hissed, your eyes fluttering to close at the feeling of his cock back inside you. It was almost as if you had the missing piece of your puzzle fitted inside you. Midoriya found it hard to focus on you underneath him when he felt as if he might just burst a knot at the feeling of you right now.

He groaned as he closed his eyes for a second. “You feel so fucking good. Fuck, I miss this pussy.” He let out with a low growl as his hand gripped your thigh harshly. You had your arms wrapped around him as you both took a moment to catch your breaths at the sensitivity of it all. You relaxed for a moment, revelling in the beautiful feeling of being one with your Alpha again. “My love…” Midoriya moved his lips to your ears. “May I?”

You nodded your head, kissing his jaw. “Yes.”

Slowly but leisurely, he pulled back, leaving in just the tip before pushing back inside you. You both let out a moan at the delicious feeling of sex again. Slowly but yet almost passionately you both found a rhythm together. A sort of push and pull motion between the two of you. Your arms wrapped around him as he kissed you deeply, his kisses moving all over your face and focusing on your lips as he thrusted inside you.

Midoriya was sure that he had died and gone to heaven to have this moment with you. To feel your hot wet sex wrapped around his cock and to have you underneath him like a fallen angel. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good. You’re everything to me. I love you so fucking much.” He praised you, his hands holding you as if you were a diamond in his hands.

“Izuku! Alpha, harder! Harder please!” You begged as you tightened your arms around you.

He couldn’t help but smirk and abide by your wishes. With a sharp thrust you found yourself crying out at the pain and the pleasure. Midoriya roughly fucked into you, telling himself that he was just doing what you asked him to do and not doing it because he wanted to absolutely destroy you underneath him. He wanted to see you crumble on his cock. Making a drooling, dripping mess.

You felt that coil inside you twist and tighten, your sensitivity fueling your pleasure for him. You whimpered. “I… I’m going to…” Your eyes rolled back as you felt yourself tighten around his cock as slick gushed out of you. Midoriya’s hips stuttered at the heavenly feeling of your orgasm. A growl being ripped out of him as he found his canines deep into your mating mark once more, bullying his knot inside of you.

You let out a low moan at the added pleasure of his reclaiming on your body. With a final thrust, Midoriya had his knot inside you. He let go of your neck, his canines having a tint of red as you both took a moment to revel at the feeling of his cum inside you and the both of you joined together. You closed your eyes breathing in heavily. You felt Midoriya wrap his arms around you, flipping the both of you around to have you laying on top of him. He snuggled his body around yours making you giggle lightly.

You kissed his cheek as you stayed in his arms, wanting to soak up every second you had with your hero while you still had it.

“Daddy!”

Midoriya quickly swept up Toshinori in his arms with a loud laugh as he threw the five year old up into the air and into his arms. He ruffled the curly unruly green hair on his eldest son’s head. Toshinori giggled at the action, letting out a pup chirp as he was set down on the floor in front of his father. “You defeat all the evil bad guys?”

Midoriya chuckled nodding his head as walked into the house, minding the buzzing pup that was almost a little carbon copy of him when he was five years old. Large gleaming green eyes of adoration, with a huge smile on his face to match too. “Of course, bud. I wouldn’t be the Number One hero for nothing.” He winked down at the little seven year old. “What did you do at school?” He asked him.

“We drew pictures of our families and we did some maths and writing too, but I don’t like maths.”

Midoriya couldn’t help but laugh at the statement. “Can’t blame you there.” He paused turning to look down at Toshinori. “But you gotta practise it, especially if you don’t like it.”

Toshinori nodded his head eagerly. “Mhm! If I defeat maths, I can be a hero like you!”

Midoriya offered the miniversion of him a high-five. “Hell yah, you can.”

Toshinori jumped up, slapping his father’s hand with a smile. “Plus Ultra!” He shouted.

Despite Toshinori not having shown any signs of having a quirk, even though already being five years old, Midoriya wasn’t too worried. He knew how life would be for Toshinori in the mean time with no quirk, but until he was ready, Midoriya planned on passing on One for All to him. It was rather convenient actually and it would make it much easier on Toshinori than it was for him, having to deal with the quirk.

“Where’s your dam?” Midoriya asked looking around at the living room?

“In the kitchen!” Toshinori chirped, taking Midoriya’s large hand and leading him into the kitchen where you were.

Sitting in a baby chair as you fed him lunch was your youngest, Midoriya Hero. Another green haired little broccoli that seemed much too hungry for you to keep up with. You focused on trying to feed the pup his cinnamon pumpkin puree but he seemed rather disinterested in the pumpkin right now and more interested in his milk bottle that sat not too far away, despite it being empty.

The green haired Alpha’s expression softened the moment he saw you. You stood with an apron on, although you felt like a mess and needed a shower, he found you the most beautiful being in the world standing in the afternoon light. He walked over to you, you too focused on his youngest to notice much of anything else.

A surprised chirp was ripped from you as Midoriya lifted you up off the ground. You let out a shout. “IZUKU!”

He let out a loud laugh as he placed kisses all over your cheek and neck. You laughed as he spun the both of you around before placing you back on the ground. He grinned down at you, cupping the side of your face with an adoring look. “Afternoon, angel.”

You couldn’t help but give him a pointed look which turned into a real smile. “Good Afternoon, Izuku.” You chuckled. “Good job saving that run away train earlier.”

He smiled at the praise. “Well you know none of it matters as long as I return back home to you.” He reminded you, placing a kiss on your forehead. Midoriya turned to the right as he saw Hero reaching out for him with a whine, wanting to be lifted up out of his seat. The large Alpha laughed, hoisting him up. “Hey Hero!” He carefully brought the young little pup into his arms with a smile. “You’re getting bigger every day. Jesus, you’re heavy.” He pointed out making the pup giggle as he put his chubby hands on Izuku’s face.

“Dada.”

Midoriya couldn’t help but smile dearly at the little one. He put his mouth to Hero’s (rather non-existent) neck and placed raspberry kisses there making him let out a loud belly full laugh. Midoriya, carried Hero as he turned his attention to Toshinori. “Hey Toshi, you wanna show me those drawings you were doing earlier?”

Toshinori’s eyes lit up like stars as he cheered, grabbing Midoriya’s hand. “YAH! Come on, daddy!” He pulled Midoriya around as if he was stronger than the strongest man you ever knew.

You smiled dearly at the sight of all your boys together. No matter what Midoriya thought, no matter how unfit he felt as a father especially not having one of his own, he sure was a fine good one. And you doubted that that would ever change

-Glitch1d

2K notes · View notes

a-simple-imagine · 7 months

Text

Nothing But Cowards

Requested by anonymous: “I was wondering if you could just write about, having a fight and then make up, fluff and angst? If not that’s totally fine”

“I'd like to request a Jordan Li x fem reader where they're dating in secret from the friend group because of everything going down but one morning they oversleep and one of their friends find them curled up in bed together and it's followed by giggles and fluff?”

Pairing: Jordan Li x fem!reader

words: 3.7k+

WARNINGS - mentions of weird hospitals and tortured kids, strong language

GodU had always been your parents' dream. they held such high and heavy hopes for you. their perfect little superhero. a future member of the seven. when you were younger, you hated the idea. you felt... exploited. they forced this life onto you. gave you compound V and for what? so you could become some clog in a corporate machine? help sell merchandise for Vought? but as you got older and realised that you were kinda stuck with your powers, you felt more obligated to follow through with their dream. to actually be a hero. so you applied for Godolkin University. got in. and became a crime-fighting major. that is how you met Jordan Li. They were much stronger than you would ever be. both physically and mentally. the ability to shift between two forms gave them two separate skill sets all wrapped up in one identity. and they were so confident in their identity. not always a boy. not always a girl. just so confidently themselves. and you admired them so much. They were truly the strongest person you knew or at least you thought so.

it was a weird moment shrouded in the darkness of night. you were shaking a little from rage or the cold, you couldn't quite tell. everything was so incredibly fucked. Marie's roommate had gone missing because of some stupid plan of Andre's imagining. you just found out that there was some weird hospital under the school that was experimenting on people; including Sam, Luke's brother who was apparently still alive and in fact did not commit suicide. not to mention Luke was still gone. he used to give some great advice. used to kick your ass in sparring sessions but would occasionally let you win just to keep you on your toes. he was your friend. and you missed him a lot. you could never understand what happened; or why it happened. All these mysteries were piling up like old comic books. so many chapters to one confusing story that if you missed a single issue it became almost impossible to follow. this was impossible to follow. everyone was arguing. people were taking sides. Marie wanted to find Emma, who had infiltrated the woods, to help Andre who was trying to save the kids trapped down there. Jordan was more pissed about rankings than tortured kids. Cate wanted everyone to just back up and not do anything reckless. you wanted to yell at them. you knew rankings were important to Jordan. they wanted to be the best. at least Cate was worried about not dying. your parents' words hang heavy on your shoulders. this was your chance to do some good. to live up to their dreams without becoming just another vought puppet.

"don't you want to be a hero?" your voice is loud. louder than expected. the question was mainly aimed at Jordan. the person who went toe to toe with Golden Boy just to protect Marie; someone they hardly even knew at that point. that was after the club. you wish you could say you don't think about that night. everyone else seemed to just move on but it haunts your dreams. it's a cloudy memory of white powder and thick red liquid. "we almost killed someone."

there is a brief flash of something. Regret, maybe? before the expression turns dark and defensive. "we didn't do shit." and that was partly the problem. you didn't hold the weapon but you still ran. you left a woman to bleed out because you were too high. even sober, you wouldn't have been able to do much but you could have done something. anything. Nobody likes to talk about that day. the same way nobody talks about what went down with Luke. or how, if they had their way, nobody would talk about this weird hospital. If Cate and Jordan got their way, you'd just go back to school where all that mattered was who held that number one spot. currently andre. not Jordan.

"Exactly which is worse, if it wasn't for Marie we would have all been royally fucked." you articulate. irritation bubbling deep in your chest. "we can do some good here- we can help people."

"you're just gonna get yourself killed"

"at least I'm not running away again," you say. Jordan can make all the scooby doo references she wants but you wouldn't entertain the thought of leaving this down to Marie once again. "you wanna know why Andre is number one instead of you?"

"politics."

"because he is the only one person here who is trying to do something." You growl. "you're just a selfish asshole." if all they cared about was their ranking then you had to explain it in terms they'd understand. Their jaw tenses.

"Okay so what does that make you?" they spit. a particular venom dripping from their tone. "I've helped people- actually saved people. can you say the same?" they ask. "you're basically scared of your own shadow."

"Jordan don't."

"no," they interrupt Cate before she can continue. "I may be selfish for not wanting to go on some stupid suicide mission but when you realise what's really at stake here, don't come crying to me." Jordan's words hang heavy in the air, how do you even reply to that? your mouth opens but nothing comes out so you just walk away. Leaving your friends to continue arguing.

a bitter flavour lingers in your mouth. a painful feeling concealed deep inside your chest. you can't control how others perceive you but is that really how Jordan sees you? some coward who ran to them whenever things got tough? maybe they were right. you were no hero. you may have superpowers. you may spend hours studying techniques and training in the gym but that's just school. it didn't mean anything. You had never saved the day. you had never actually done anything. you haven't spoken to Jordan. Not since that night. they had texted a few times but you haven't even opened them. you don't want anything to do with them right now but you'd be lying if you said you didn't miss them. you missed them a lot. nobody knew about your situation with Jordan. you had both decided to keep it on the down low while you figured stuff out. and with everything going on, it had just never been the right time.

a knock at the door. you don't bother getting out of the bed you had been rotting in for hours; staring up at the ceiling as the sun went down and darkness enveloped the room. another knock. you bury yourself deeper in your duvet but the knocking doesn't stop. it just gets louder. a loud groan as you roll out of bed. your roommate was always forgetting their key but when the door opens, your stomach sinks. it wasn't your roommate. you instantly close the door.

"Seriously,"

"fuck off," you yell back. they knock again. yanking open the door, you spy Jordan Li once again. femme. sweaty. gym gear. duffel bag hanging off their shoulder. "fuck off," you push on the door again but they slap their hand against it.

"Just give me a chance," they probably just wanted to yell at you some more and you weren't in the mood. you shove harder. "I could stand here all night." your brow creases. Jordan probably would too. they're very persistent. with a heavy sigh, you relinquish pressure on the door and it swings open as they let themselves in.

"what do you want?" your eyes follow her as she drops the gym bag down and begins wandering around your room. they had been here before. They knew what it looked like. their hand slides over the wood of your desk. they pick up the open book, presumably glancing over the content before dropping it back down. "Jordan."

"hm," they look at you almost perplexed. like they had been lost in their own little world.

"what do you want?" you request more firmly. they just stared back like it was a crazy thing to be asking. they drop back to lean against your desk. you're waiting for them to say something. anything. but their gaze just falls to the floor. you sigh softly, still loitering by the door. you would leave if this wasn't your room. "why are you here, Jordan?"

"I wanted to see you," their shoulders rise and fall. "everything is so fucked up. a hospital under the school like what the fuck?"

a secret hospital under the school was very messed up. you can't even imagine the things they get up to down there. also, Luke's brother was down there. that's why Emma went down in the first place before she disappeared. "yeah," you nod a little. "I guess."

"And Luke's brother being alive this whole time?" you wonder where this is going. you knew all this. you were there when everyone was arguing. your brow furrows a little.

"Can you get to the point?"

"well it's a little fucked isn't it?"

"You're being weird," you state. monitoring them carefully. they still wouldn't look at you but they did push up from the desk and towards the mini fridge.

"you got anything to drink?" they question, pulling it open.

"Jordan. leave."

"What?" they ask, still looking in your mostly empty little fridge.

"I said leave," you declare firmly. "I would like you to leave."

"why?"

"you know why." they sighed loudly, thrusting the fridge closed with a loud slap. "you don't get to just pretend nothing happened."

"I don't know why you're angry, you're the one who called me selfish." Jordan insists. "Said Andre was better than me."

"You are selfish. All you care about is your stupid ranking."

"It's not stupid," Jordan fires back. "It is important if I wanna get somewhere,"

"Who fucking cares," you groan "Like I get it, you wanna be a hero but this is way bigger than all that."

"And what are you gonna do exactly?" there's a bite behind her words. She's getting defensive. "Whats your plan to save the day Superman?"

"I don't..." you snap before trailing off to a much quieter tone. "know exactly,”

"It's a death wish,"

"We have to do something.”

“no, we don’t.” Jordan replies. “we don’t have to do anything. This is way above our pay grade.”

“of course, you’d say that,” you groan loudly. “can you leave now.”

"I-" They seem like they're about to bite back but they stop short. a tense jaw. they let it go. "I miss you, okay."

"I don't care," you did care. "leave." you yank open the door. For a beat, they seem taken aback but it rapidly fades. "now."

"just hear me out."

"no Jordan," you huff. "just go. I'm not arguing with you anymore."

they watch you for a second. "I don't want to argue" they clarify. "please?” there’s an unusual desperation in their voice. one you’ve never heard before. it builds a degree of sympathy amongst your anger. you let the door fall closed with a click.

“fine," you cross your arms over your chest "What do you want?"

"you were right," she declares softly. the statement alone takes you by surprise. Jordan? admitting she was wrong? you'd comically gasp if you weren't annoyed with them.

"I don't understand."

"I said you were right."

"No, I heard you," you explain. "look, Jordan-"

"I'm sorry, okay?" they reply sharply "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"why are you making this so difficult?" Jordan asks. "I've apologised so can we just watch a movie or something?" you raise a curious brow. Surely they weren't naive enough to believe you would simply forgive them just like that? There was more to this story that they were avoiding.

"you can't be fucking serious," a humourless laugh. "you don't even really mean it."

"I do though."

"no you don't," you sigh. walking towards them. "look at me and apologise- apologise properly."

"Ugh, I already apologised," they groan loudly, pairing it with a roll of their eyes. It just annoys you even more. "why can't you just forgive me?"

"Because you don't even know why you're apologising," you stress. "it's half-baked. you don't mean it. and I'm tired so-”

"I'm fucking scared" they blurt out. "I'm scared."

A look of surprise; shock. Their very loud confession caught you off guard. Jordan Li wasn't scared of anything. They’d made that bold claim a great many times. "of what?"

"of losing you," they yell back; their hands come up to run slowly over their face. Their hair becomes shorter. They physically grow taller. Shielded by his fingertips, it's pretty apparent that he shouldn't have said that or at least hadn't meant to. You don't know what to say; your head tilts slightly to one side. how do you respond to that? it still wasn't technically an apology. "for fuck sake."

"of losing me?" you recite slowly. "why would you lose me?"

"Because you're an idiot," they urge. "who wants to help people."

"dude."

"Sorry but like it's true. you're a fucking idiot," they repeat. "and I admire that."

"I'm... confused," you mumble softly.

"I admire how much you wanna help people despite knowing it’s stupid and you're probably gonna die" You can't tell if Jordan is just oblivious to what he was saying but it was far from getting him back in your good graces. "I wish I could be like that. naive enough to think I can make a difference."

"I feel like you're just insulting me," you comment.

they shrug a little. "I know this is still kinda new, the whole me and you thing but…” you can tell this is hard for them. expressing their feelings was not their strong suit. Their head hangs low. “it doesn’t matter,” they walk towards you but instead veer off towards their bag. you reach out for them; taking their hand. they were running hot, a sweaty hand.

“you can tell me,” you express, a gentle squeeze. “we’ve been friends for ages…”

“you’re just gonna call me selfish again.” their voice a whisper but they make no effort to pull away. You step closer.

“then you’ve got nothing to lose, right?” it’s a joke. a harmless one but they don’t laugh or even acknowledge it.

“I… I just don’t want you dying before we get a chance to really explore whatever this,” they use their free hand to motion between you. “is. so yeah, I lashed out because I like you or whatever and want you alive. sorry.” you watch them for a moment. their inability to meet your gaze. the light dusting of pink that graced their cheeks. it was really sweet if not a little unexpected. Jordan was so cool most of the time. it was a rarity to see them express such emotions. it makes you smile. you just laugh a little in amusement.

"Jordan," you say warmly. "you're not gonna lose me," you step even closer, reaching for their other hand; running your thumb over their knuckles. "I understand what you're saying but I don't think it's reason enough not to help,"

"I know," the express softly, finally meeting your gaze. there is something unspoken behind those eyes but you choose not to push. “I wish it was.”

you keep your eyes on there’s taking in this tender moment. a moment of vulnerability. a moment of connection. you relish in the way their hands fit so comfortably in yours. you really liked Jordan. liked their attitude. admired their strength. wished for their sense of loyalty. you were so smitten. so lucky to be their chosen person. a smile settles before you slowly lean in. It catches them off guard but they soon settle into it. “I’m scared too,” whispered against their lips. "but I think the bravest thing we can do is try anyway.“ his eyes flutter closed, letting his forehead fall against yours.

"I didn't mean it when I called you a coward," Jordan whispers, his eyes open. Lingering on yours. “You’re the bravest person I know.”

"I am a coward," you express. "I've always wanted to be a hero. it's all my parents want. but I'm scared. terrified. I never could have fought Luke like you did. but I wanna try now. I want you to try too," you ghost their lips. It's subtle; intimate. "if you really wanna protect me, Jordan, you'd help because I'm doing this with or without you."

"do I have to decide right now?" they ask quietly. You're almost disappointed by their reply but you can't really blame them. This wasn't another student hero gone rogue. This was a whole institution willing to do anything to keep its secrets. "do you forgive me?"

"do you forgive me?"

"I was never mad at you,"

"I was mad at you." you declare.

"I know," they nod. "you weren't exactly subtle about it." their expression becomes playful and bright; a strong contrast from the conversation you were just having. You can't help but smile as you pull back.

"do you wanna stay over tonight?" there's a shift in the air. all that tension fading away. you're not mad. you're not thrilled either. but you liked Jordan. a lot. and you could understand their desire to protect you. In a way, it was very sweet. You didn't realise how much they liked you. "we could watch that movie? or Property Brothers? whatever you want."

"Whatever I want, huh?" their hands vacate yours and instead move to your hips. Pulling you close. ever so close. pressing their body ever so slightly into yours "Anything at all?" masc! Jordan was taller than their male counterpart but far less intimidating. firmer. gentler. it’s a rather present contrast.

"you're such a perv,"

"you don't even know what I was gonna say," they insist.

"Anyone with half a brain could figure it out," you tease. their hands slip around to the small of your back pulling you flush against them. playing into your words. "but what Jordan wants. Jordan gets." whispered in their ear, you place a gentle kiss upon their cheek. "right?"

you can feel them practically shudder against you. A heavy sigh left their lips. "oh she wants to play tonight?" all signs of sincerity washed away by something darker. desire. you meet their eyes, lips quirk up into a smirk before they lean in once more. it’s ever so light but you’re quick to deepen the kiss; chasing that warmth that spills through your veins but they pull away instead. mischief laces their expression. their fingers sliding under the hem of your shirt. they pull back just enough to murmur, “I’m gonna make you beg for it,” their words hot against your ear. A shiver spills down your spine as you lean into them; wanting to be closer. As close as possible as they guide you back towards your bed.

it's safe to say you're smitten with the infamous Jordan Li. and when it comes down to it you're delighted when you're together. they bring out a more mischievous side of you. and you like to think you bring out a more vulnerable side of them. You shuffle further into their embrace. Basking in the feeling of their arms around you as you hide from the rising sun peeking through the blinds. A content hum as you drift in and out of consciousness. Still so early. You feel them lean more into you.

"what the fuck," a voice drags you to the land of the living. And as your tired eyes flutter open, your friends stare back. Both you and Jordan shoot up, instantly breaking any contact. Pulling the covers up to hide the fact you were both very naked. Marie stands at the end of your bed; wide eyes and a slightly agape mouth. Cate and Andre are just by the door. how the fuck did they even get in? "we should- sorry," you watch Marie scramble for the door shoving Andre out just as Cate yanks him.

you both fall back down in unison. If anyone had seen it would almost seem planned. After a moment, you roll back into them. giggling into the crook of their neck. after a moment you nip the skin. "guess we're not a secret anymore," muttered against their skin.

"This isn't funny."

"it kinda is," you shrug "Quite the shock for those three." A giggle before you sink your teeth into her neck earning yourself a satisfied sigh but they're quick to push you away. A stern look on their face

"you agreed it was best we didn't tell everyone until all this craziness was over."

"yeah but don't you feel just a little relieved," you ask. You can practically see the gears turning in their head. It's... Cute. You move so that you're now straddling them, hands drifting delicately over their chest. Their skin is so warm; and soft. Their short bob is a mess against your pillow. they looked so peaceful. so beautiful. A strip of yellow sunlight reflected off their chain. "I'm glad everyone knows now. plus," you smile mischievously. "now I can kiss you whenever I want. " You lean down slowly and place your lips against hers. "and that's all I want," mumbled against their lip.

"I guess it is one less thing to worry about," they muse, bringing their hands up to rest against your hips. her fingers apply just a little bit of pressure. you peck their lips once more before pulling away. a gentle tap on their nose, their face scrunches up.

"you shift in your sleep sometimes did you know that?"

"What?"

"you were definitely a guy when we fell asleep and then suddenly I'm snuggling up to a girl? is it like a conscious choice or?" they hesitate for a moment before playfully shoving you off them.

"shut up,"

"ow!!" you groan dramatically, falling down against the bed. "ow. that hurt so much. I'm in so much pain. how could you be so mean," you groan loudly, shuffling about a little for dramatic effect.

"you’re so dramatic,” Jordan rolls their eyes but a mischievous grin spreads over their lips. “now get up we’re gonna be late.”

“for what?”

“class.” they sit up. a hand coming to settle on your stomach. you don’t move. and neither do they. and in those few seconds, everything feels at peace. “you really are beautiful,” they eventually say before finally getting out of bed.

#gen v #jordan li #jordan li x reader #the boys #jordan li x you

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norrisleclercf1 · 9 months

Text

Letter 1

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader x Lando Norris

Part. 6 to Our Boy Series

Rating: PG

Words: 1.1K

Warnings: Angst, maybe fluff?

Our Boy Series / Previous It's All a Lie / Next Broken Hearts and Duct Tape >

Synopsis: After leaving, you left all your letter behind. The ones you wrote and the ones he wrote. Elijah finally reads Letter 1, maybe it brings comfort? But sometimes comfort can hurt.

Elijah, you must hate me for what I did. Rightfully so, but first, you should know the story. The real story. This is how your father and I met.........

We met in 2016; I was 19 and he was 31. How do I even begin to explain this to you, the significant age gap and much less how we even got together. Well, I can thank Lewis for that one.

Lewis introduced us when there was a massive party at the beginning of the year, kicking off the new F1 season. I went with my father. He was invited and brought me along, wanting me to mingle. Father introduced me to Lewis when I was young. McLaren boys stick together.

Lewis was, is, an older brother to me and someone I've always admired. When he introduced me to Nico, I highly doubt he expected Nico and me to fall in love. I didn't even plan on falling in love with him. Sometimes, I regret it. Other times, I don't because you came from that love.

Stupid and young, I got drunk, and Lewis was panicking. My father would've killed him if he knew the state I was in. Nico offered to take me, but he never once made a move on me. Laid me in his bed and slept on the couch. Nico wasn't always the monster. I made him out to be. If I was older and got pregnant...things would be different.

Nico was so good to me. We didn't get together until Barcelona, god he was so angry, and we became close, almost friends. He regretted it. I know he did. After it happened, he left that night, already back in Monaco, and I was still in Spain. Hurt was the understatement of the century. I was devastated.

I don't know what it was about Nico, but he trapped me in a way I couldn't understand. Nico was the first person I ever truly loved, and it was something Nico knew. He loved me; I know he did. After Spain, I returned to Monaco and ran into him; he said nothing, just kissed me.

To say the least, we weren't safe, literally and metaphorically. Whenever we were together, it was either fighting or completely wrapped into one another. We didn't care what people said, those who knew and those who didn't. Dad wasn't aware of the relationship until I called him crying one night.

Japan, 2016. I still remember sitting in the hotel room holding the test. I was furious, distraught, happy, and scared. I only told Nico in Abu Dhabi. I figured he'd be so happy. Winning the World Championship and now having a baby? He'd be on top of the world. Anyway, I called my Dad 4 weeks after Japan.

He flew out immediately and went straight to Nico. Told him how he knew of the relationship, Nico was happy. He wanted Mika to know and confess how he loved and respected me. Fast forward to Abu Dhabi, and there we were in the middle of his hotel room. When I told him, he cried, hugged me, and said he'd marry me when we got to Monaco.

Waking the next morning, I was sure Nico loved me. Only to roll over and see him gone. Everything was gone. I should've known right then, and there he left me, but I thought maybe he was talking to my Dad or Toto. Instead, I went around the entire city only to be told he went back to Monaco and was retiring and moving back to Germany.

Dad didn't say a word when I told him. He simply nodded and helped me back to Monaco. Getting to our apartment, it was empty. It was all gone, the pictures, trophies, his stuff. Only my belongings remained.

And a letter, a letter I still need to open. It's in this box. You should read it before me. Nico left me, not you. I was so blinded by rage and heartbreak that anytime he reached out, the first part wasn't that my son would know his father. No, it was; I could finally get back at him for all the pain he left me in.

4 months pregnant, I met you, Papa. I knew of him, but he didn't know of me. I hid in the shadows at the races so no one would know of Nico and me. Upfront with me being pregnant, he just smiled. At 19, your Papa didn't care. We became friends. He knew I was heartbroken and wasn't ready for a relationship.

Yet when I was with him, he was different. Touches, words, feelings, everything with him was different. The kind of love I only wish you can find one day, Ducky. Charles loved you the first moment we met. He taught you how to walk; Cha was your first word. Elijah, our rock, kept us together and refused to let me waste away.

When you said Charles and Lando weren't your fathers, my world crumbled underneath my feet. My hatred and pain fueled your pain of not knowing Nico. But, Ducky, he's not your father. Charles and Lando are. They raised you.

Charles is the one who encouraged you to start karting and protected you. Lando is the one who holds you when you're crumbling. You're their first child and greatest love. No love is more vital than that of a parent and their child. Hate, curse, never speak to me again if you have to, but Elijah, never say they aren't your fathers.

Love,

Your Mama

Blinking, Elijah folds the letter. Standing up from his bed, he creaks open the door, seeing the house pitched in black. Elijah could still hear Cece crying and his Dad's soft words. Walking past, he heads to the main bedroom. Pushing open the door, it creaks.

"Lando? Did she finally fall asleep?" Elijah cringes, hearing his Pa's raw and scratchy voice. "Papa? It's me." A light clicks on, Elijah blinking as he takes in the sight of his real father. "Duc-Elijah? Something wrong?" Charles rubs his eyes, so red that Elijah's throat clamps shut. "I'm," Shuffling his feet, he gathers himself, but looking up, it all breaks.

"I'm so sorry, oh god." Elijah sobs. Charles moves quick off the bed. Without hesitation, Charles crushes him into his chest, cradling him like when Elijah was a toddler. "You're my," He gasps for air, arms squeezing so tight Charles couldn't breathe, but he doesn't care. "You're my father. You've always been my father. Oh god, what did I do?" Elijah sobs, shattering in Charles's arms.

"Breath, breathe for me," Charles whispers, but Elijah shakes his head, moving closer into his Papa's arms. Charles doesn't think twice as he moves Elijah to his bed, laying them down. "I don't hate you," Sobs rattle Elijah's chest as he hides away. "I, I," "Don't, don't say anything," Charles whispers, pinching his eyes as he tries to stop his own tears.

Charles just holds Elijah, unable to let him go as he lets his silent tears fall. "You're my boy, always my baby boy," Charles whispers.

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

Taglist: @thomaslefteyebrow @a-stray-soul @formulas-bitch @mickslover @myescapefromthislife @glow-ish @kittyfluffypaws28 @ryntro @copper-boom @allabouthappiness @jaydaaasworld @christianpulisic10 @lyraleclerc @daddyslittlevillain @dreamerrosie @driveswiftly13 @harrysdimple05 @sueesstuff @why4anne @nataliambc @cwiphswmwasohmm @buckybarnessweetheart @makingmyway-downtown

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scoobydoodean · 10 days

Note

ok so forewarning, i don’t really have a question here, just lots of thoughts.

there’s so many layers to the general *badness* about the mia vallens therapy scene. like to the manipulation (for lack of a better word) that sam rewrites. like it makes such a difference that she thinks jack is their little brother instead of the son of the thing that killed dean’s best friend/loml. not to mention the fact that it’s been what like a week since *everything*

and like yes dean’s being cold towards jack and giving him orders (which, i could argue they weren’t uncalled-for), but tbh he’s only being moderately colder/more direct with him than he’s been with cas at times on hunts (thinking hunteri heroici) and even similar to how *sam* has been with like claire and even dean himself (thinking that episode dean turned into a teenager and all of MOC). like genuinely, how was sam expecting him to act like?

also (half joking) i genuinely think dean would’ve warmed up to jack even quicker than he did (we can already see it in this same episode, like that look he gives jack when he asks mia if buddy hurt her too) if he heard jack say he hates anakin skywalker lol

ok wait i do have a question. do you think jack actually was “terrified” of dean during that therapy scene?

(post linking to some context)

Okay so I rewatched 13.01-13.04 on a plane this past week so it's all extra fresh on my mind rn. The thing about 13.04 is that Dean wasn't comfortable bringing Jack on the hunt, and Jack didn't want to go, but Sam pushed insistently for all of them to go on the hunt together... primarily because Dean's feelings were thwarting Sam's plans for Jack and his own emotional coping mechanisms in a larger sense.

I think Dean's feelings compared to Sam's here are relatively more simple (and yet somehow still intensely misunderstood to a baffling degree). Dean was grieving. He was grieving Cas who died right in front of him, he was grieving Crowley (he pleads with Chuck to bring "even Crowley" back in 13.01!) and he was grieving Mary.

The thing with Dean's grief over Cas is this: instead of viewing it from Dean's perspective, we tend to analyze it as omniscient viewers who know Cas will come back, refusing see how miraculous Cas’s return truly was. We refuse to see Cas's death was different this time and appeared very permanent. There was no uncertainty like there was in season 7 or 8. His wings burned into the ground and his grace extinguished. Dean pleaded and prayed for Cas and Mary and Crowley's return to the only person who ever brought Cas back from certain death (via explosion in 5.01 and 5.22)—the person who told Dean in 11.23 he was leaving and Dean was on his own. Dean didn't hear back. The ONLY reason Cas comes back in 13.05 is that 1) Jack woke him him up unwittingly using powers no one knew he possessed and 2) Cas then annoyed a creature they didn't even know existed into letting him out of a place they 3) didn't even know existed and 4) Cas somehow came back with a body even though he had been burned to ash. All of this is completely miraculous. It was unforeseeable. It doesn’t even make complete sense as a viewer. In other words, Dean has ZERO reason to hope for Cas's return. There was ZERO reason to refuse to acknowledge that grief… but that's exactly what Sam does. He suggests Dean pray for Chuck to bring Cas back in 13.01. As soon as Sam knew Dean already tried that and Cas was DEAD dead, he treated Cas as something Dean needed to reframe and get over:

SAM: You thinking mom is gone and Cas is gone, and that Jack can’t be saved. Dean, after everything we’ve gone through… We just lost people we love, people who have been in our lives for a long time. Everything’s upside-down. I get it. But we’ve been down before. I mean, rock bottom. And we find a way. We fix it because that’s what we do.

This is the "Pull yourself up by your bootstraps" speech in 13.02—like a day after they burned Cas's body. Sam's wording here is cruel too—saying Dean is "thinking" Cas is gone as if he didn't die right in front of him? He refuses to acknowledge Cas's death as something Dean was actively and rightfully mourning. This becomes a major point of contention between the brothers at the end of 13.03.

DEAN: Look, I know you think that you can use [Jack] as some sort of an interdimensional can-opener and that’s fine, but don’t act like you care about him! Because you only care about what he can do for you! So if you want to pretend, that’s fine! But me? I can hardly look at the kid! Because when I do all I see is everybody we’ve lost! SAM: Mom chose to take that shot at Lucifer. That is not on Jack!

Sam will only name Mary—the one person whose death they can’t 100% confirm (the same thing happens in front of Mia in 13.04). The absence of Cas’s name here is pointed. So Dean says:

DEAN: And what about Cas?

And how does Sam respond?

SAM: What about Cas?

Uh... wow. That's what really sets Dean off to full on shouting:

DEAN: [Jack] manipulated him, he made him promises, said, ‘paradise on earth’ and Cas bought it and you know what that got him? It got him dead! Now you might be able to forget about that, but I can’t!

Sam's denial of what Dean literally SAW (Cas died) and how that hurts—his insistence that Dean also halt grieving to hope for the impossible—it's a major sticking point and very revealing of Sam's own coping mechanisms. Sam's chief response to grief is to disassociate himself from it. We see a textbook case in season 8 (see: 8.08), but in most of the series, what this actually looks like for Sam is to keep moving and hunting (ex: 1.02, 2.02, 2.10, 2.11, 2.18 3.11, 4.09, 9.01) which is also why he insists on bringing Dean and Jack on the hunt in 13.04. Sam tries not to think about what they've lost and focuses on what he CAN do. He focuses on hoping Mary can be saved because she's the one person he didn't SEE die.

The thing about Dean’s grief over Mary is this: he convinces himself Lucifer had to have killed her. She's the one person whose death Dean can't be certain of, but he absolutely cannot bear the thought of hoping she’s alive and it turning out he’s wrong. He knows he wouldn’t psychologically survive hoping in that and his beliefs being crushed. It would be like losing his mom all over again (a THIRD time). So he sticks to what is most likely: Lucifer killed her. He can't contend with the hope Sam is clinging to desperately, and that's what makes them such poor companions in grief. Sam feels off balance when Dean won't keep moving and hoping like him—when Dean can't keep up the pace Sam wants to run at in his own grief—and in doing so, Sam keeps pushing Dean to contend with hopes that open Dean up to a WORLD of pain Sam can psychologically convince himself not to feel. Grieving together just really just doesn't work for them because they're never on the same page and deal in such different ways—and this has been hurting them from as early as 2.02!!!

Now to bring Jack into this more fully: Jack represents Sam and Dean's different perspectives on grief and on Mary. Just like Dean despairs over Mary's demise, Dean despairs over the possibility of Jack being good. He can't bear the idea of hoping in that and being wrong. The psychologically safest option for him is to assume the worst and not hope or believe in anything turning out okay.

Sam, on the other hand, pretty much immediately sees a way to use Jack to get Mary back. This is clear when he and Jack get locked up together in the jail cell in 13.01. After establishing that Jack isn't hearing things and (probably) isn't going to murder him imminently, Sam immediately starts down a line of questioning establishing how well Jack understands his powers, and then asks him outright:

SAM: Jack, look, um... before you were born, you -- you opened up a door to another world. Do you remember that? JACK: Yes. SAM: Okay, um, could you do that again?

Shortly after, when Sam arrives, he tells Dean (who is convinced after everything that happened in 12.23 that 12.19 that Jack is evil or will turn evil):

We need him.

Sam repeats this sentiment multiple times with clear meaning, and later in 13.04, he admits to Jack that he wants to use him to open the portal. This doesn't mean he doesn't also grow to see himself in Jack quickly and genuinely believe in his capacity for good, but he isn't fully honest with Jack about his motives until 13.04 where he finally comes clean, and this poisons the well with Jack a little.

@shallowseeker has pointed out before that in 13.03, while trying to figure out how to get Jack's powers to work (and spying on Jack through cameras from another room) Sam is seen reading "The Drama Of The Gifted Child". I wish I could find the post because Shal probably brought it up too, but when I was rewatching this episode, I noticed the chapter Sam had just settled into read before being interrupted was titled,

"Depression and Grandiosity: Two Related Forms of Denial"

Given the accusations flying from Sam toward Dean then from Dean toward Sam about denial in the following episode (13.04), this feels amusingly pointed. Dean is depressed (and about to attempt suicide in 13.05), Sam is depressed and has "grandiose" ideas of using Jack to pop open a portal to another reality while hiding behind the guise of being the most rational person in the room when he... isn't necessarily? And it's easy to argue "Well, Sam turns out to be right even if he didn't ultimately have much of a reason to think he was" but the core problem here is how his beliefs effect how he treats other people's grief. He isn't honest with Jack about his motives (while Dean is somewhat brutally honest) and pushes and watches even while claiming he's giving Jack space (13.03), he refuses to give Dean space to grieve even the family member they know is dead, he inserts a therapist into the situation and criticizes Dean's grief when Dean won't play his game, and in 13.05, after Dean says that he can't believe in anything right now, Sam's clumsy attempts at help involve plying Dean with alcohol he says he doesn't even want and trying to send him off to strip clubs—believing that Dean performing being okay will somehow address his mental state because Sam's idea of coping himself is simply "going through the motions".

As for Jack, I don't think he's scared of Dean. I think he's scared of what Dean believes. He's scared that Dean is right. From 13.01-13.06, Jack is contending with the question of whether he's destined for evil or good, and in his depressed state, Dean believes Jack is destined for evil because hoping in anything is completely beyond him at that moment. Sam tells Jack that he can be good, but he hides ulterior motives as to why he's being nice, and when those ulterior motives are revealed, it leaves Jack thinking Sam is the kind of person who will lie to Jack and tell him he's good just to get what he wants. Meanwhile, Jack knows Dean is being completely honest with him about what he believes. 13.03 and 13.04 clearly demonstrate that Jack understands the difference between beliefs and facts: Dean could be right or he could be wrong. What Jack holds onto like an anchor is that he can trust Dean to tell him the truth about what he believes—even if it hurts.

It's also just so obvious that Jack immediately wants Dean—specifically—to like him (see: Jack mimicking Dean's mannerisms while eating in 13.02, and his clumsy attempts to earn his favor in 13.04). Sam also picks up on this, and encourages Jack to seek Dean's approval in 13.04 to try and change Dean's beliefs. Sam (and to some extent Jack) are thinking in 13.04, that if Jack can prove to Dean that he can be good, and if Dean tells him he did a good job (which Dean does in the end), Jack can believe that. Sam sees that Jack wants Dean's approval and the impression that Dean's beliefs have had on Jack and thinks by pushing them together as soon as possible (when neither of them want to go on the hunt) and treating them as a family and forcing Dean to accept Jack when Dean just isn't ready (including by paralleling Jack with himself in a way that becomes an accusation), he can "fix" Jack so he isn't scared of his powers anymore (13.03) and then he can teach Jack to use his powers and Jack can open a portal to save their mom.

Jack's attempts to earn Dean's favor in 13.04 are clumsy. His first attempt is directly ignoring Dean telling him to wait in the car and sneaking into the crime scene, potentially contaminating it. At Mia's office, Jack's outburst about losing a mother is what allows Sam to set up the whole family therapy trap to begin with, and because Dean knows Sam is going to use that to hurt him, he warns Jack not to make outbursts like that. Dean is not being nice. Point blank. And I do think his tone is a little different than with Cas which in the past felt more like exasperation. I also don’t think it makes him the devil. I think that's understandable when putting in even a tiny amount of effort and it's kind of laughable to me how few people seem to even try because they're so caught up in Sam's happy family narrative and the idea that someone wanting Dean's approval presents an obligation that Dean give it no matter how emotionally impossible—and in a situation where asking him to lie would actually destroy that much more of Jack's trust.

#13.01 #13.02 #13.03 #13.04 #13.05 #dean and mary #mary #dean and jack #jack #and cas is my best friend #the flannel business #bad therapist sam #season 13 #mail #i just stopped

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beanmachine69 · 10 months

Note

You’ve got me in the Nando feels now! Could you write a smutty (if you do smut) Nando x Lances Sister forbidden relationship/ secretly dating situation where you almost get caught in his drivers room?! Age gaps don’t hurt either 😏😂♥️

Good team, great time | Fernando Alonso

minors dni!

“I don’t think this is a good idea.” You whispered as Fernando dragged you by the arm, sneaking past cameras and people and straight to his drivers’ room.

“Finally.” He sighed, as he pushed you against the door, moving closer till his face was mere millimeters away from yours.

“If Lance finds us-” You started, nervous at how close he was to you, and just generally nervous about the whole situation.

“He won’t doll, relax.” He said, smiling.

“Easy for you to say, you’re not going to get killed if anyone finds us.” You hissed, slightly annoyed at how nonchalant he was about this.

He hummed, nodding and choosing not to verbally respond, instead pulling your face closer to his by the chin and kissing you. You closed your eyes and melted into the kiss, wrapping your hand around the back of his neck, pulling him lower. You both spent a few moments like this, slowly just kissing and smiling before he quickened the pace a bit, deepening the kiss and moving his hands under your shirt.

Your slight whimper as he pinched your nipple made him smile into the kiss, pulling away to look at your face. God, what an adorable sight it was; your eyes all wide and expectantly looking up at him as your plump lips were parted and slick in anticipation. Though he’d only been acquainted with sights like these a few times before, Alonso truly felt the undeniable urge to see them again, and again- he was addicted to it and all possible hurdles didn’t seem to matter at all.

“Fuck, fuck, Fernando I don’t think we should be doing this here.” You whispered, fear lacing your voice.

“Where else baby? Do you want me to take you in the garage? I mean I don’t mind but-” He teased, smiling at how scared you looked.

“No!” You responded, slapping his arm playfully, “I mean Lances’ room is right next to yours, he could hear us.” You warned, brows raising to see what his response would be.

“I guess we just have to be quiet, no?” He smirked.

You hated it whenever he smirked, not because he looked bad or anything, but quite the opposite. He just looked so stupidly attractive, it annoyed the shit out of you- especially considering how often he did it too. It had become a thing between you two the past few weeks where he’d pass a smirk at you in the garage or the paddock and you’d just go bright red- he got some sort of joy from it. He found it so adorable the way you’d blush and look away, trying to play it off even though your face was a major give away.

Fucking his boss’ daughter was not part of the el plan, yet here he was, sneaking around wherever and whenever he could to spend time with you. You were significantly younger than him, and though you were old enough to make your own decisions, your age gap would definitely earn you two more than just disapproving frowns from others. Fernando liked and respected Lance a lot as a teammate, hell he even really liked Lawrence, maybe he just liked all the damn Strolls, especially the one who was looking up at him now, mouth full of his dick and eyes watering as you choked on his length.

“Fuck yes, just like that.” Fernando sighed, relaxing on the stiff sofa under him.

His hand was in your hair, guiding you as you rhythmically bobbed your head up and down his length, pulling away and watching as your spit spilled from your mouth and onto the dark pink tip of his dick. Your face was in close proximity to his member, so when you attempted to catch your breath, you were immediately hit by his scent, motivating you to lower your mouth back onto him, flattening your tongue on his head as you licked slowly. As much as Fernando appreciated your skill, he was more desperate for release, and so he exercised his authority and pushed your head further down so fast that you audibly gagged as he hit the back of your throat. You tried mumbling a ‘I’m fine’ but it only came out as a gargled noise as you began moving your head up and down again.

Alonsos’ breathy moans were really, really turning you on; the way he groaned out your name from the back of his throat, and the way he moved his hips upwards and moaned louder every time you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him properly. Your mouth was eliciting the most satisfying sounds you had ever heard- his noises were so addictive, you didn’t want to pull away, not even for air- you just began steadily focusing on breathing from your nose so you could stay down for longer. At that point, you were willing to do whatever it took to keep those deep moans and sighs coming from the man above you.

“Yeah cariño, just like that.” He moaned, a little louder than before, indicating that he was close, “Keep going, I’m close.”

You nodded a response, not attempting to speak and focusing on picking up pace. You hollowed your cheeks and sucked him off like he was some sort of lollipop, you moved your head up and down as your hand came up from your underwear to caress his balls, massaging them gently. You continued this for a brief moment before his thrusts stuttered and his hips made a final, deep thrust into your throat the same time his hand grabbed onto your head and held it in place as he came inside your mouth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, cariño.” He let out, barely able to control his volume.

You couldn’t breathe, and were gagging more than before with the extra pressure, but you kept it together and pulled away with a final suck on his head. You looked up at him and as your eyes met his dazed look, you visibly swallowed, bringing your thumb to clean the edge of your mouth.

“Fuck, you look so good like that princesa.” He sighed, hand still in your hair as you relaxed against his leg.

You were just about to reply to his comment when you were both startled by a knock at the door. You jumped up to pull your skirt up as Fernando struggled to put his trousers on. The knock repeated, except this time it was followed by Lances’ voice.

“Hey Alonso you in there?” He asked.

You panicked, frozen in the spot, terrified that you’d be caught by your own brother. You snapped out of the trance when Lance knocked again, your reflexes kicked in and you bolted to the cupboard, shoving yourself in there.

“Yeah Lance, uh give me a minute.” Fernando replied, cursing himself for not locking the door.

He fixed himself up, picking your panties from the floor and shoving them in his pocket when he saw you close the door to the cupboard. He went up and opened the door himself, trying to make sure Lance wouldn’t enter the room itself.

“Hey man, whatsup?” Lance asked when Fernando opened the door.

You were frozen in your hiding spot, terrified of the idea of getting caught by your younger brother. You were in no state to be meeting him at this moment, and as the brief conversation between the drivers continued, your panic subsided, Fernando had managed the situation and Lance hadn’t even made it inside the room. The closet was small, and you could barely hear what the conversation was about, so you just sat there, recalling not just todays’ events, but last nights’ events too. You and Fernando had been sneaking around for a while and though it was all fun and games, you had unfortunately developed some feelings for the older driver along the way. He was funny, cute, and really caring and not to forget an incredible driver who was also indescribably attractive. Though neither of you could deny your attraction towards one another, you just weren’t so sure if the tender moments you two shared afterwards were something more than just extended aftercare.

The closet door opened, Alonso stood in front of you, hands folded over his chest and a cocky expression washed over his face.

“What?” You asked, a little confused at the expression.

“That was exciting.” He replied, trying to contain a smile.

“My brother almost walked in on us, and you think that was exciting?” You questioned, mirroring his stance and folding your arms over your chest.

“Isn’t the idea of almost getting caught kinda fun?” He pressed further, leaning closer and trapping you into the closet with his strong arms.

“I mean-” You were cut off when he kissed you again, leaning in and pressing his lips onto yours far more gently than he did earlier.

“You’ve been such a good girl princesa.” He mumbled as he pulled away, a small smile on his lips.

“Mhm, have I?” You asked, knowing very well that the question was redundant and you knew where this was going.

“Yes baby, now you decide, what do you want?” He asked, smiling and doing the thing with his lips where he pushes them out momentarily mid-smile.

“You,” You replied, re adjusting yourself to wrap your legs around him, your torso firmly trapped under him in the cupboard, “I want you fuck me, right here, right now.”

“And what if someone catches us?” He asked sarcastically, eyebrow quirked.

“Isn’t that exciting?” You replied, smirking as you leaned upward to take him into a kiss.

Wrapping your hands around the back of his neck you brought his face lower as you deepened the kiss. You moved your hips upwards, rubbing your clothed core against him. At this point your skirt was pushed up so high, there was practically no use of wearing it. You ground against him for a moment before he took charge again, thrusting his hips into yours and pinning your hips down into the closet base. You moaned at the contact, surprised at how hard he was again.

You mumbled something before reaching out to help him out of his pants as his fingers hooked onto your panties and pulled them off of you, toying a bit at your wet entrance.

He aligned himself as he leaned in to kiss you, mouth capturing yours in a kiss so indulgent that he managed to muffle out your very loud moan when he slipped inside you. He didn’t bother waiting for you to adjust to his size, the door was unlocked and the only bit of a cover you two had was the open cupboard door, anyone could walk in at anytime- the thought of which was so exciting that Fernando began his thrusts, hard and fast, fucking you like he needed to. He knew that time was of essence, and he also knew to make you cum around him.

His pace was relentless, and if it weren’t for his mouth on yours, muffling your moans, the whole damn paddock would have heard the way you moaned out his name with each one of his thrusts. For a split second you were convinced the wood of the cupboard base would snap under the pressure, your thought barely lasting a moment before it got discarded by the feel of your orgasm approaching faster than you expected. You tightened your legs around Fernando, barely managing to announce your situation before he nodded,

“Yeah princesa, me too.” He panted.

His dick was repeatedly ramming itself into your g-spot, making your limbs quake under him. At that point your head was so devoid of thoughts, you simply could not think of anything apart from how good he felt inside you and how deep he was inside you. Your orgasm was threatening to explode, the only thing holding it off was your wait for his hip stutter to indicate that he was close, except no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t stop yourself from releasing all over him, head falling back as moans spilled out of you and as your walls squeezed him until he came, shooting his warm load into you.

Your high had you seeing stars, your body shaking as the after effect of it. Fernando fell on you, collapsing onto you and wrapping his arms around you in a warm hug.

“Santo Dios mi amor, I can’t get enough of you.” He panted, placing a kiss on your forehead.

You giggled, not understanding the first bit but smiling anyway.

“What?” He stopped, pulling away to look at your red face, “You like that? You like it when I can’t control myself around you?”

“Maybe.” You smiled, taking your bottom lip in between your teeth as you searched his eyes for any hint of some emotion akin to yours.

“Good, I like that.” He smiled, kissing your forehead again. “Come on, come to the couch I wanna hold you for a minute.”

He hadn’t pulled out of you, instead he scooped you up from under your arms and carried you to the small couch in the room, gently laying you on top of him. He stroked your hair as you made little patterns on his clothed chest, still blissfully dazed as his strong arms held you.

“Y’know,” Fernando started, taking a deep breath in, “I was thinking you and I go to dinner sometime, maybe after the race?”

“Yeah, I don’t mind.” You replied, avoiding looking up at him so he wouldn't see you blush.

“Great, because I don’t want to keep sneaking around.” He chuckled, “Your dad asked me what my good-luck charm was these past few races, I wasn’t too sure he’d like my answer.”

A/N: I LOVED THIS REQ SM! I'm sorry for making it a bit more romantic than requested, but I love this man and can't help it heh.

Please correct my Google translate Spanish if I've made any errors, it would be appreciated!

Thanks for the request Kat, apologies for the delay <3

As usual, the ask box is open for criticism and requests! Much love <3

#Fernando alonso #f1 fic #f1 smut #f1 blurb #fernando alonso blurb #fernando alonso smut #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso fic #fernando alonso

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blkgirl-writing · 6 months

Note

hi!! i just read your massive headcanon list for gale (loved it btw) and i desperately need one astarion as well!! ❤️

Astarions Massive list of SFW and NSFW headcanons (Part 1?)

Literally of course!! I wasn’t sure the people wanted this so I was waiting for a request. I’m bundling a lot of my astarion requests in this one too so if you see an ask you did it’s probably inspired!

TW: Acended Astarion section, details on physical and mental abuse there. I will put a warning for where it starts and ends. Some headcanons are more illuded to "female" anatomy, not all headcanons will reveal much

Astarion is somehow so soft with his touch yet rough and almost feral when he really desires you

He will trace every inch of your body with such light, soft fingers, but grab onto your hips tight and nearly thrust you into him. Gently kiss you neck before sinking his teeth into your skin

Because honestly his true desires, wants, and needs, are unfiltered and less calculated than his normal affair

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

TW START

I do have to include acended astarion here because I don’t want to write him fully, so here’s that section. I feel like too many people want acended Astarion to be loving and caring. That unfortunately isn't the truth of the cycle of abuse

It doesn’t last, his love for you. It extinguishes fast, like water to a flame. He becomes cold and controlling

The only was I can see a happy future for tav and Astarion ascended is a Durge, where you rule the land together, ignoring the heart you once had together. It’s lots of bickering. If chaos is your turn on, this is it

Lots of hate sex and screaming matches. At least one per month where you both loose your voice before the argument ends and red marks across eachothers bodies

And honestly, I think one of you kills the other, in a fit of rage. But still whoever dies would get a grave stone. Small, unlabeled, a sort of revenge for the people who wanted it all. Forced in a common place with no success flaunted and easily forgotten

TW ENDED

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion holds hand in his sleep, rather than cuddling

A hand is all he needs to feel like he’s in the safest place in the world

Full spooning is just too intimate and personal until much later In your relationship. He wasn’t ready for something so real yet

There's a lot of pushing and pulling til he gets comfortable, but he will always make sure you know that he loves you and wants your touch, there's a lot of learning along the way

He just hasn't experienced the seriousness of true love and compassion for someone he truly feels he can't lose. It's scary, loving so much that your death would lead to his emotional one, if not physically as well

Astarion would never admit it but he would do just about anything for you

he becomes somewhat soft, which, initially annoys him, but he finally accepts it after a few weeks

He realized when you looked at him, with brightness in your eyes, asking him something important, he really wasn't listening

All he could think was to never make those eyes cry again, he'd do anything to stop you from feeling like that again

Your first date isn't very planned

After a fun but quick night on the beach, you get clothed and Astarion stares at you, taking all of your skin in, as it slowly gets hidden by clothing. A bit of a shame, he couldn't see you bare all the time

There was a blanket and you both lay on it for some time, in silence. Slowly, you feel his pinky finger graise yours. You hook them together, and simply watch the moon in the sky, fading in and out of sleep. Astarion doesn't get any closer or further, but he does sigh a few times

And for the first time, when you wake up, he's still there

Your second date was much more of a traditional date, at least for you two

Astarion had the bright idea to sneak as much alcohol as possible from the inn

feet dipped in the cold water of the docks, four bottles of quality whiskey polished off, and working on a fifth, you were positively hammered

Astarions head was leaning on your shoulder, arm slumped around your waist

the laughing and mumbled words only get louder and louder with each sip, and at some point, Astarion looks up at you, a small glint of his sharp teeth peering out of a smirk, and he leans into you further, pressing his lips against yours doe a deep kiss

it was almost aromatic. A charm whispered in your ear that made his lips taste like roses and sugar, with a hint of copper, you feel your own tongue lick his bottom lip, needing more of whatever that taste was

the night was a blur, after that. Too drunk to really remember much the next day, but you both knew there wasn't going back after that. There was a bond, now, with feelings more than just lust and need

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion fucking you feels like getting close to a campfire, warm, hot, even, like getting any closer may kill you, pounding and scraping, biting and bleeding, breath thick and hot

When you fuck Astarion, everything feels light, it flows like water over a riverbed, he lets you ravish him in a gentle, caring sense

His attention is all over you, but your neck clearly has his attention-grabbing the back of your neck, kisses down it, bite marks, hickeys, licks, even cum, sometimes, purposefully dripped on your face, but mostly on your neck and collarbone

It definitely also is just a very obvious placement, it can show that you fuck, he fucks you, and you love it. It gets to the point where there are faded bruises, bite marks, and scratches littering across your whole neck, it almost looks like tattoos, and a few passersby comment on it.

Astarion had a very smug smile on his face that day, and that night he ravished you with more passion than ever before

What else can I say, Astarion fucks, but I do think once you really start your relationship, there's a lot of re-learning of what he really wants

so sex starts off fairly vanilla, adding stuff in, changing it out, uses of safe words and communication being key, a safe, loving space between you and him where he is never used and he never uses you, it's just pleasure and ecstasy

I believe he'd be open to a closed relationship as well, at least for a while, especially if you choose the path of the underdark for your future

Literally not even once do you wear protection either lol

It's messed up so TW, I have a feeling Cazador made sure Astarion could never procreate, giving him an attachment to anyone is dangerous, and something to fight for even more so. Having his own offspring would never be an option for him

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

There would never be normalcy in your relationship, that's kind of the beauty of it

Every single day is different, there is never a moment that passes with Astarion that isn't unique

Especially when Astarion is adjusting to a life where he has to think and care for another, a routine isn't comforting to him, spontaneity is important in your early relationship

Astarion is still very romantic in his own ways, kissing your fingers hugs from behind, small, light touches across your whole body

The first time you nearly die? my god. He's incredibly distant for a few days

and when you ask what's up he would definitely blow up

like what were you thinking? Going in like that, you could have died! You could have left him alone again

He cries softly in your arms, then, repeats how you could have died. It seems like forever, that he stays there, tears dripping down your skin, cold

From then on he always looks back at you, in battle, before striking, to make sure you're ok, accounted for

------

hey! What other HCs would ya'll like me to add in the next part! I haven't romanced Astarion more than twice so I may need a little help there, haha. But thank you for reading!!

@shyminnie07 @makers-breath @claryvoyantfray @black-sapphic @fapqueen

(Consider supporting me on Ko-fi)

#astarion #baldurs gate 3 #x reader #smut #baldurs gate #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x tav #astarion x dark urge #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate x reader #baldurs gate headcanon #headcanons #x reader smut #x reader fluff #fluff

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sundrop-writes · 6 months

Text

Your First Kiss With Jason Todd

Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary:

Jason always thought he hated you. He did hate you.

Until he didn't.

Until his love for you ruined him in ways he couldn't even imagine.

Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Reader. Frenemies to Lovers. Pure Angst (Hurt, No Comfort). Set during Season 3.

Word Count: 8,200

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: This fic is almost entirely angst - hurt, no comfort. This fic does not have a happy ending!!! So be warned of that before you enter here. Jason and the reader are described as ‘hating’ each other, but they are more like frenemies/annoyances - they have a playful banter (at the time, even they don’t know that they like arguing because it’s sexual tension and passion for each other); the reader is completely gender neutral - the only pronouns used for the reader are you/yours; this is mostly written from Jason’s POV (which is where most of the angst comes from); Jason describes himself as a ‘zombie’ or ‘half-alive’ - but he is fully alive and has all of his mental faculties, he is just freaked out about the fact that he was resurrected; the reader does not have any meta powers, but is described as being very good at combat (this does not denote the reader’s body type); mentions of sex and some sexual themes - but there is no outright smut and no detailed descriptions of sex; mentions of negative stereotypes surrounding frat boys/frat houses - including STDs and group sex (mentioned in a negative light); mentions of Jason masturbating (and thinking about the reader while doing it); mentions of Jason’s canon trauma (being kidnapped and tortured by Deathstroke, dropped off the building); mentions of Jason being killed by the Joker (and being ressurected by Crane); mentions of the reader mourning Jason’s death; mentions of drugs and drug addiction (based around the canon storyline of the anti-fear gas); mentions of Jason’s trauma surround his mother’s drug addiction; mentions of Jason killing Hank (as in the canon); the reader is kidnapped (by Crane or someone who works for Crane) and held hostage, and later rescued by Jason; somewhat graphic descriptions of violence (Jason beating up Crane, other background instances), gory descriptions of a death toward the end (mentions of acid burns and choking on non-breathable air); major character death - the reader character does die. Like I said - no happy ending. Sorry not sorry.

A/N: This is set during Season 3 - and this does feature spoilers for Season 3 if you haven't seen Titans before. So if you wanna watch the show spoiler free, definitely avoid this fic. I was imagining this to be set around episode 6 or episode 7, before Crane's plan to use the ice cream factory is taken down by the Titans, but obviously Jason breaking away from Crane's control so early goes against the canon - so there's that. Also, if you wanna pair some music with this for something truly heartbreaking, I would highly recommend the classic Running Up That Hill by Kate Bush, or the highly underrated Colorado Sunrise by 3OH!3 (the lyrics are way more depressing than people realize, and I love it as a whump song. oomf). I also feel like the song Cloud 9 by Beach Bunny would go so well with this fic, but in like - the most devastating way. I haven't written something this cruel since I wrote Ghosting and I had so much fun doing it. You can't leave me alone with whump for too long, I turn into a monster. I need to go back to smut again quickly lmao.

...

Jason Todd was in love with you.

It was something that he hated himself for. Actually, it was one of the most infuriating, devastating facts in the world. But it was true. You were someone who was so entirely amazing. You were beautiful - literally the hottest person Jason had ever met who wasn’t photoshopped or catered to be some unrealistic daydream. You were clever and smart and strong. You could kick anybody’s ass on any day of the week and still have enough energy left to tell them how much of an idiot they were and list all of the reasons why.

And you would definitely never love Jason back. There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that he could ever have someone like you.

So he kept all of that stupid, idiotic love to himself. It was a secret that he had sworn to die with - and technically, he already had.

Jason tried not to linger on the very fucked up, seemingly impossible fact that he had come back from the dead. And now he was existing as some weird, fucked up zombie thing - resurrected from having his skull caved in by the Joker to do Jonathan Crane’s bidding. This definitely wasn’t what Jason would have wanted out of a renewed life - but hey: when an Arkham prisoner gives you rotten lemons.

When Jason wasn’t beating down drug dealers, stealing money, or strapping bombs to people - when he was trying his hardest not to focus on the fact that he had died and he was now living some strange half-life, reliant on Crane’s drugs, he was thinking about you. He thought about you a lot.

He hadn’t come into contact with you since his strange foray back into the land of the living. That was probably for the best. He knew that you had freshly come back to Gotham, upon Dick’s request. Nightwing had called for backup from all the ex-Titans to help end Red Hood’s reign of terror. Jason wanted to stay as far away from you as possible.

Genuinely, he didn’t want you getting caught in the crossfire of whatever Crane was planning. He wished you had stayed out of Gotham, but he knew that you were too loyal, too good not to come to the aid of the Titans when they needed you. He couldn’t reveal himself to you just for a taste of nostalgia - one last argument before you sold him down the river for good. But fuck - he thought about you a lot.

When the two of you had first met, you were the last person he ever thought that he would surrender that stupid, soft label of love to. Even months into first knowing you - he would have said that he hated you. He would have told anybody that he found you to be the most annoying person on earth.

Your relationship used to be the worst kind of dance.

Every single time that Jason opened his mouth, you said something to contradict him. To a point, he believed that you didn’t even fully stand behind the things you said - you just enjoyed arguing against him. That you did it for sport. You used every single last bit of your time and energy to get under his skin. From mocking him to calling him a fuckboy to prodding at his grammar, poking holes in his points by smugly correcting him. He always found you to be the most infuriating person in any room. But it seemed that the more frustrated he got with you, the more cool headed you remained.

He tried to mock you back, and you shrugged it off. Every time he became visibly annoyed in your presence - you giggled. He wanted to strangle you.

And it was one fated day that he realized the line between heat fueled by frustration and heat fueled by lust truly weren’t that different.

…

“Jason! I thought I smelled you coming down the hall!”

Jason groaned when he heard you make this comment.

He thought that for once, he could have some peace to train alone - but it appeared that he would have no such luck. You were already in the training room, holding a long bo-staff as you ran some drills. Apparently, you were eager to exercise your mouth too - already whipping off clever insults the minute that Jason entered the room.

When all he could muster was a glare in your direction, you let out a giggle. His blood boiled.

“Between that god awful Axe body wash and that alcohol based aftershave that you like to drown yourself in, you smell like a walking frat house.” You continued, blabbering on even though Jason had made no efforts to engage you. At least not yet. “Just throw in some Busch Light and weed, and I might be able to catch gonorrhea just from the stench.”

That was the nerve that hooked Jason into the conversation. First of all - he smelled fucking delightful. He always made hygiene one of his personal priorities. He was absolutely not one of those guys with crusty, sweaty balls. And second of all - he was not one of those STD spreading manwhores. He was clean in all senses. He always used a condom.

“Sounds like you’ve got experience with that.” Jason quipped back.

He looked to you for some kind of reaction, some inkling that he had gotten under your skin even a fraction of the way that you did his. His movements were rough with annoyance as he began wrapping his knuckles with tape so he could have a few rounds with the heavy bag - mostly out of a need to pound out his frustration on something. He was getting too angered with your presence in the room and not wanting to snap and take it out on you. (He already had enough on his record with Bruce, and despite popular opinion - he was trying to improve.)

When you weren’t quick to respond, Jason continued.

“You used to letting frat boys all over you? You seem like the type of person who would enjoy a good, sloppy frat house train. Twenty guys, one after the other, none of them knowing your name, just because you’re so needy for a good fuck.”

Jason grinned, feeling like he had won this conversation with the essence of shock alone.

But no. As always, you remained cool. You grinned right back at him, stepping toward him, crowding into his personal space as you said your next words in a low, smooth voice.

“Sounds like you spend an awful lot of time picturing me running a train.” You smirked. “Is that why you’re always so late getting up in the morning? You wake up and the first thing you do is get a hand on your dick, imagining me getting fucked by a lineup of guys? Probably just wishing that one of them was you.”

Jason’s face fell flat.

You were so strikingly confident in your words that it made his stomach twist. Facing him down, speaking such filthy words without flinching - embarrassment and heat collided inside of him. Even more so with what you did next.

You put a hand out in front of your crotch, mimicking the motions of jacking off while you mocked him in a broken voice.

“Oh, oh fuck Y/N! Come on! Take my sloppy, frat house cock!”

You then mocked a whiny series of moans that must have been Jason’s fake orgasm - and while Jason’s insides bubbled with a confusing heat, you quickly dissolved off into laughter.

“Shut up.” Jason snapped, forcing his eyes down to focus on the process of taping himself up - praying that you wouldn’t see the heat that had spread across his cheeks. “You’re the fucking worst.”

“Only when I’m with you.” You replied, blowing him a kiss - to which he stuck his middle finger up at you.

He was eternally thankful when you went back to your own training in silence, only taking occasional glances up in his direction.

…

After that point, Jason had to admit to himself that he was attracted to you, at the very least. He could no longer deny that you were insanely attractive; you were a very, very hot person. And somehow, even past your annoying habits, he was being drawn into the orbit of your gorgeous looks and your wonderfully cocky, filthy mouth.

But he still hated you. He definitely still hated you.

He hated it even more when you became right - and you did become the object of some of his more heated fantasies. He became downright annoyed at the times he had his hand around his cock and imagined himself hate fucking you - imagined forcing every cocky retort out of your mouth, imagining you breathless and needy beneath him, begging for more with every hard push of his hips.

He hated how everything changed after Doctor Light.

Jason wasn’t thinking about your stupid beautiful cocky mouth after that. His mind was full of glass and he was being shredded from the inside out. He came home broken. After everything that happened with Deathstroke and Doctor Light - he was some fragile bird; some chewed up, used, pitiful thing. He didn’t have the energy to fight you anymore, not even for sport.

So after he was rescued, still floating in numbness, he didn’t know what to do when you burst into his room unannounced. You practically shoved the door off its hinges, and stormed across the room toward him - tears hot in your eyes. You pounded curled fists against his chest, screaming at the top of your lungs. Half of your words were static in his ears, but the tone of your voice pierced through his heart like an arrow. You called him stupid, asking where in his empty head he had gotten the idea to go off by himself.

Jason didn’t have it in him to fight you. So he broke down.

He felt like the world’s biggest idiot for crying in front of you. But his throat was tight and he choked on the tears - he was too tired. He just couldn’t hold them back. He screamed back, and asked you to lay off. To get off his fucking back.

You looked shocked. Like you had swallowed a piece of glass.

You surprised him when you uncurled your fists and wrapped the most tender, gentle hands around his back, and for the first time since he had known you - you embraced him in a hug. He was weak and he needed it more than he was willing to admit, so he let you. He sobbed against your neck, his own cries too loud that he missed the timid sound of your apology.

That wasn’t the only time you surprised him that week.

He knew it was because he was some broken little bird, but you started taking care of him. You brought him plates of food without being asked, and when he attempted to shove them away - you refused. You told him to eat before you had to ‘shove it down his fucking throat’.

You didn’t mock him. You didn’t correct him. And you surprised him even more when you turned the sharpness of your tongue on the others when they tried attacking Jason. They accused him of planting booze in Hank’s room or drawing crosses on Rachel’s mirror to fuck with her, among other things. And you popped veins in your neck going on a winding rant about how stupid and baseless their accusations were.

Jason wasn’t sure if you knew it, but you jumping to his defense wrapped him in a blanket of protection that he had never before felt. It was so entirely strange, but welcomed coming from you. Especially because he knew that it was genuine. He knew that you didn’t have any ulterior motives for doing this - for some reason, you just wanted to help him.

When you extended an invitation toward him to come with you as the group dispersed, torn apart by Dick’s nasty, festering secret - Jason felt welcomed by you. He knew that the dynamic between the two of you was changing at a breakneck speed, and he had to embrace it. He found himself eager to follow the weird, newly developing kinship that he had with you rather than wanting to stay in the empty coldness of the Tower with a brooding Dick.

From there, it was really difficult for Jason to pin down the exact moment that his feelings transitioned toward you from casual lust to something more. He couldn’t tell exactly when it turned into that panic-inducing, ‘oh my god, I’m fucked’ feeling of being in love. After leaving San Francisco, during the entirety of the time that the two of you were in Gotham together, your relationship remained completely platonic.

It was a few short weeks spent kicking ass as the best vigilante duo the city had ever seen, but there wasn’t a single moment Jason could point to where the two of you lit up with that romantic spark. It wasn’t some romcom bullshit come to life. It was just the two of you being friendly for once. The two of you helping each other survive.

Back then - Jason wanted you, badly. Even if he didn’t know just how badly, he wasn’t going to fuck up the whole dynamic just to get laid. He felt safe with you. He kicked ass with you. He was good with you. And during that short time - he was happy. So he wasn’t going to do anything to risk that happiness. Happiness was too rare for him. So why the hell would he try putting the moves on you, scare you away, and fuck it all up?

…

A little slice of that happiness came in the form of Hal’s Diner. It was a place in downtown Gotham, open twenty four hours, and you and Jason had gotten into the habit of stopping there after your patrols.

The two of you would kick some ass - break the legs of some drug dealers, make sure that women got home safe if they were walking late at night, keep the streets a little safer. And then you would change out of your patrol outfits and head to the diner, just as the sun was rising over the scummy streets of Gotham. You would get breakfast and Jason would get dinner. He would steal one of your eggs and you would take half his burger, and you would always comment about him putting way too much ketchup on his plate.

It was harmony.

“You know, every time I see you make a grown man cry, it brings me such intense joy.” Jason grinned as he said this, reminiscing about a beautiful moment from earlier in the night.

He spoke about it in the same manner that someone might reminisce about seeing a relative or a cute puppy. But this was natural for the two of you - since you had taken up vigilantism as a duo, violence was a sweet art for the two of you.

“Well, if he would have left that girl alone the first time I asked, I wouldn’t have broken his arm.” You shrugged, speaking very casually about it yourself.

You then picked a piece of bacon up off your plate and took a bite, grinning at Jason fondly. You did appreciate it when he complimented your skills.

Jason chuckled.

“You know, it is nice to see you using your powers for good instead of evil.” He commented.

“My powers?” You parroted back, your mouth half busy with chewing, your words slightly muffled.

You didn’t have any metahuman powers, so this comment did leave you slightly confused.

“Yeah.” He nodded, entirely confident in the statement he had to follow. “Your endless amount of energy to harass people and be endlessly annoying. The powers you used to spend all your time using on me.”

“You used to deserve it.” You were quick with your tongue as usual, not missing a beat with this statement.

Jason’s only rebuttal was to pick up a french fry - one not doused in ketchup - and throw it at your head. You flinched slightly when it bounced off your forehead - but when it landed in your lap, you easily picked it up and put it in your mouth, not thinking twice about doing so as you tossed Jason a wicked grin.

That. That must have been the moment.

That was the moment he realized that he was truly in love with you. You grinning at him from across the table, your smile lighting up your whole face, playing around with him like he actually made you happy. Like he could spend the rest of his life making you happy.

That’s why it hurt so much more when your phone buzzed on the table a few minutes later. When you told him that it was the Titans - Gar in trouble. That’s why it hurt so fucking much when you left.

Jason knew, in hindsight, that he should have gone with you. But he flailed like a rabbit caught in a snare, and rather than just agreeing with you, he felt the trap tightening around him, and he opted to chew off his own foot rather than simply letting you help him free.

He stupidly argued that it was some test from Dick. That the Titans could deal with their own problems. Jason knew that deep down, he was still tender from everything that had happened - Dick dropping him, even by accident. The accusations, the secrets. The rejection. He felt like he was laying down a line - he was letting you make a choice.

Him or the Titans.

But it shouldn’t have been a choice. It was Gar. Jason should have stood by his friend. He should have gone with you.

Deep down, Jason feared that if he did go with you - the Titans wouldn’t want him back. He feared another cutting rejection. They would simply bench him again, they wouldn’t even need him to help save Gar. They wouldn’t want him to help. He was useless, after all. He was careless and stupid. That was why he needed you to choose him. To stay.

That was what his mind was screaming out as you looked at him, disappointment flooding your eyes as you questioned him about Gar, about going back to the Titans.

Stay. He silently begged. Pick me.

And watching you snatch up your jacket in a huff and get up from the table, your food barely touched - his eyes boring into your back as you retreated - it was like having his heart carved out of his chest. And because he was so fucked up, he just sat there. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it. He didn’t chase you.

He let you go.

Having you suddenly disappear from his life was like missing a limb. Jason was constantly aching around your non-presence, constantly missing you. He felt torn up from the inside out, wondering if his frayed nerve endings would ever heal themselves. When he went to Donna’s funeral, he stared at you from across the tarmac - telling himself that if you even so much as glanced in his direction, he would cross that sickly one hundred foot black sea and talk to you. He would make the leap and apologize.

But you were fettered and stubborn and you kept your head straight. You knew it was the ultimate punishment not to acknowledge him. So the moment that the plane took off, Jason shoved on his helmet and sped off on his bike.

He easily became numb after that.

He went back to Bruce - to lay low and lick his wounds, or because it was the only place he knew, he wasn’t sure. He tried to be a Robin that wasn’t with you. It didn’t work. He felt more broken than ever. It was cheesy, pathetic bullshit - but he talked about you in therapy. Leslie encouraged him to reach out to you, but every time Jason’s fingers hovered over your contact in his phone, his hands shook, and all he remembered was the look of pure scorn you had given him before you snatched up your things and left the diner that day.

He thought of you as he suited up to go after the Joker. He considered how easy it would be for the two of you to take down the stupid clown together - how flawlessly the two of you worked as a team.

Jason thought of you as he drew his last breath, soaked in blood and struggling past the world-ending pain. He wondered, in a haze, if you were warm in your bed in The Tower while he was pressed into the cold ground, taunted by the laughter that rung in his ears.

…

Jason didn’t know how hard you cried for him when you heard the news of his death.

You wouldn’t have dared to say that the hole in the middle of your chest was caused by love - caused by the heartbreak of a lover being stolen. But you certainly felt robbed when you heard that the Joker had killed him. You seethed and you heavily considered marching toward Gotham to seek revenge.

You knew that Dick was angry with Bruce for finally giving in to what the Joker wanted and killing him. For finally ending their sick, twisted game. But when you found out - you were glad that the clown was dead. You wrapped one of Jason’s stolen shirts around your pillow, and you slept a bit easier at night.

…

Jason knew that he should have left town.

Crane claimed that Red Hood was going to be the next Batman - that he was going to be something the Bat never could. That he was going to actually keep the streets safe. But so far, all Jason had done was steal, kill, terrorize, torture. Crane spoke of omelets and breaking eggs - pigs and bacon, and ‘marketing’ himself to the public. But truly, it never made any real sense to Jason.

Jason knew that now, he was the type of man lurking in the night whose arm you would have broken if he was lingering too closely to the vulnerable. And you would have been right for doing so.

Jason was tired. He felt lost - directionless. He was getting tired of Crane’s bullshit. He missed you. But he knew that he couldn’t just go running back to you. You likely wouldn’t have accepted him back into your life if he did.

When Crane called him in that night, wanting to discuss ‘the game plan’ - Jason was worn. His patience for all of it was already wearing thin, and what happened next - it truly caused him to snap.

Jason showed up in full gear, wearing the costume of an alias he no longer believed in; foolishly dressed up as someone he had truly begun to resent. He was holding his helmet in hand, his heavy boots clunking on the floor as he dodged around Crane’s egghead lackeys - a random group of people who were working to convert the anti-fear gas into a larger batch. He knew that they were aiming to get more and more people in the city hooked; if Jason hadn’t abandoned his morals in this new life, he might have cared more about the consequences.

Instead, he made a B-line for Crane, who was typing away at something on the computer.

“Jason, my boy!” Crane grinned at him, giving a false, performative grin over his shoulder. “Lovely evening, isn’t it?”

“What do you want?” Jason asked, his tone flat.

He was far too tired of Crane to engage in more word play or stupid riddles.

“Never one for pleasantries, are you?” Crane chuckled.

Jason didn’t offer him a reply - seemingly confirming his theory with this simple act.

Truthfully, he wasn’t. He wasn’t feeling very pleasant today. He hadn’t felt very pleasant any day since he had been so rudely pulled from the morgue and zombified to do someone else’s bidding against his will. Being an undead puppet didn’t really make a person all that pleasant.

Crane reached into the pocket of his oddly quaint grandpa sweater and pulled something out - a small glass vial, containing some clear liquid. It looked harmless - like water. But Jason knew Crane, and he knew that whatever it was must have been entirely dangerous if Crane was carrying around such a small dose of it.

“Do you know what this is?” He asked, giving the vial a small shake, jostling the liquid inside to emphasize his point.

Jason hesitated before he shook his head in the negative. He hated to appear clueless and stupid around such an intelligent man, but he didn’t want to guess and be wrong. He knew that being misinformed around Crane was dangerous. But being cocky and pretending to know more than Crane was even more dangerous.

“This is a very highly concentrated form of liquid Methadone.” Crane explained. “It’s a highly addictive substance. And I think it’s going to give the mass market version of your formula that little extra kick that it needs, ya know? Keep the people coming back for more!”

He let out a bright chuckle, as though he was talking about a cleaning product that was marketed on an infomercial or some kind of great recipe for soup. That was one of the things that scared Jason the most about Crane - his ability to talk about life changing, deadly things with such jarring enthusiasm. He truly thought of bringing people their worst nightmares and their most painful deaths as ‘beautiful work’.

“What about it?” Jason prodded quietly.

He knew that Crane hadn’t called him here just to brag about a new idea to add something to the formula. He needed Jason for something.

Jason just hoped that he wasn’t looking to use him as a guinea pig again. He would likely rather die again than go down the path of heavy drugs. One thing he had vowed - he wouldn’t end up like his mother.

“Well, you see, my boy, that’s where you come in.” Crane grinned at him. “Due to its highly addictive qualities, Methadone is also a highly regulated substance. But because I am the wonderfully well-connected man that I am, I happen to know that there is a very large stash of it just sitting there, ripe for the taking, in this quaint little building uptown.”

Jason’s gut stirred with suspicion.

“Where uptown?” He asked.

“Well, it’s just-” Crane stuttered, and then sighed, deciding to get it out and over with. “The Wayne Memorial Cancer Research Facility.”

Jason glared at him.

“But see, it’s fine! Because I happen to know someone who knows their way around the Wayne Tech security systems very well. So Red Hood breaks in there, gets me my-”

“No.” Jason said flatly, before he turned and started to walk away. “Find somebody else. We’re done.”

Crane had threatened to replace him before. Crane had no-so-subtly threatened to kill him alongside being replaced. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe Jason would be better off dead. Maybe Crane would find out that Jason was irreplaceable after all. Maybe Jason was a dirty, seedy criminal shaped by life for only one thing: ruining the lives of others. If Jason couldn’t do that, he wasn’t sure what he would do.

But he wasn’t going to fucking do this.

Killing was one thing. Stealing from drug dealers and mobsters was another. What he had done to Hank had crossed too many lines - but it didn’t even begin to approach the lines that this crossed.

Stealing from a facility that Thomas and Martha had set up when Bruce was just a child, shitting all over their legacy, using skills that Bruce had taught him in order to do it? That was too far. Jason couldn’t say that he had morals anymore, but he still had that voice of common decency in the back of his head yelling at him to stop it. Maybe it was your voice, correcting him at every turn the way you used to.

He should listen to that voice.

He should leave town.

“Hold on, hold on there, Jaybird!” Crane called after him.

The pure annoyance that the nickname caused was the only thing that stopped Jason. He considered turning around and shooting Crane just to shut him up.

“See, I think you forget how this works.” The man went off again - talking in that humming tone he always used that made Jason’s ears numb, made his brain switch off. “Every loyal dog gets a treat. A little motivation to get that Pavlovian mind barking in the right direction.”

Jason turned back around then.

“Nothing you say ever makes any fucking sense.” He barked out, ready to leave Crane with these as his last remarks before he left Gotham forever.

But then Crane tapped at a few things on his keyboard and pulled something up on the monitor - a dark, grainy video feed that had Jason squinting his eyes and walking closer to get a better look.

When Jason was able to truly take in the scene - his stomach dropped.

It was you.

You were sitting alone in some anonymous, concrete warehouse - probably in the industrial district of Gotham, if Jason had to guess. Crane didn’t like to keep his insurance policies too far away, he liked to play it close to the vest. You were tied to a chair, duct tape tight over your mouth, very much there against your will. You were looking straight ahead, with the camera angled down from the top corner of the room. Even through the grainy, black and white footage, Jason could see the wetness of tears streaking down your face.

You were terrified.

Jason’s helmet clattered to the floor, slipping from his grip as the shock overtook his system.

For the first time in weeks, fighting through the numbness of the drugs and the hazy shock of his new half-life - he was terrified too. Then he was angry. Rage bubbled up inside of him like a sharp, acidic bile.

“What the fuck have you done?” Jason growled out, the anger setting his jaw so tight that the words could barely escape between his teeth.

“I told you - every loyal dog gets a treat.” Crane said, a barely contained glee filtering through his voice as he peered over Jason’s shoulder at your weeping face on the screen.

He clapped a large hand on Jason’s shoulder, and Jason felt himself nearly choke on his own tongue - so swollen with anger that it barely fit in his mouth.

“So, go fetch, doggie.” Crane continued. “Go get me what I need. Otherwise, that sweet little treat of yours is gonna play dead.”

Crane leaned over and whispered those last words into Jason’s ear - and that was what truly caused him to snap.

In a flash, Jason grabbed the hand that was on his shoulder, whipped Crane around - there was a loud crack as Jason broke Crane’s arm. The egghead types who were working on the formula all paused; some of them gasped or hid behind things, but none of them were brave enough to intervene. Jason shoved Crane’s face into the monitor, cracking it out like a spider’s web but never fully obscuring the image of that dark, cold warehouse - the place where you were alone and terrified.

He twisted Crane’s broken arm, making a sound like glass grinding in on itself, and the man let out a howl.

“I think you forget how this works.” Jason barked at him, his voice so dark with rage that it almost sounded like he was wearing Red Hood’s voice modulator even though his helmet was on the floor at Crane’s feet. “When dogs get pissed off - they bite.”

He twisted the injury again, and Crane let out another bitter howl.

Jason demanded to know where you were, and Crane squeaked out an address. It was in the industrial district, so it checked out in Jason’s mind. It didn’t seem like a trap or a false answer to waste his time.

Jason shoved the pathetic, useless man to the ground, kicked him in the gut for good measure, and then leaned down to grab his helmet before shoving it on. He would need it in case Crane had anybody stationed there, guarding you.

Crane shouted something at him as he walked away, but Jason was barely paying attention - now very singular minded on his mission toward you.

“You have to learn to play by the rules, Red!” Crane choked out. “You won’t like how this ends! I made you! I fucking made you!”

…

Jason was surprised to find the building empty. No guards, seemingly no bombs, no gas canisters. At first, he thought it really was a trick, a misdirect to waste his time. But when he had just about given up hope of finding you, searching one of the back most rooms that used to serve as overflow storage for Ace Chemicals - he found you. Concrete and anonymous, some of the beams having eroded away in places from improper chemical storage.

When you saw him stalking toward you - his gun drawn, heavy boots thudding against the floor, modulator puffing out heavy, mechanical breaths - you let out a terrified whimper past the duct tape and more tears flowed freely down your face.

Jason felt a twinge of guilt. Of course. You had no clue it was him.

Perhaps he could get away with the mercy of never revealing himself to you. He could keep his mask on, release you, drop you back off with the Titans and then leave town. But eventually, Dick would tell you who he was.

At the very least, he could give you the comfort of seeing a familiar face after the hell you had been through. You were wearing a sweatshirt and simple cotton pants, and running shoes - it looked like you had been plucked off the street during a jogging session. He could only imagine how much Crane’s lackeys had scared you.

Once he was confident that the area was secure, he holstered his gun and then reached up, removing the face mask from his helmet and tossing it aside.

“Hey, hey, it’s me.” He told you - attempting to be gentle and soothing in his voice.

He approached you slowly, not wanting you to be scared as he reached to his belt for a knife - only with the intention to cut the ropes around your torso, wrists, and ankles.

He watched your expression as you flashed through a range of emotions - deep confusion, a bit of relief, sadness, and then strangely - burning anger. You glared at him with the most intense rage he had ever seen from you - more intense even than the day you had stormed into his room and called him stupid and suicidal for going after Doctor Light without backup.

Jason was slightly afraid of the lecture that would come next, but nonetheless, he knelt beside you and began cutting you free.

The minute that one of your hands was free, you reached up and ripped the duct tape off your mouth. You took only a fraction of a second to wince in pain from the tender skin of your lips being disturbed before you began verbally tearing into him.

“Jason Todd!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, so loudly that Jason was sure some of the edges of the corroded concrete pebbled off and fell down just from this. “Jason fucking Todd! I should have known you had something to do with this!”

“Wh-?”

Before Jason could question your odd choice of words or even recognize it as an accusation, you raised your other freshly free hand and slapped him squarely across the cheek - it was a hard, skull-shaking clatter. It had Jason dizzy, falling back onto his ass and dropping the knife before he could finish cutting the ropes around your legs.

“Fucking ow!” Jason griped, reaching up to grab his now very red cheek.

“You are such an asshole! Of all the completely idiotic, stupid things you have ever done-”

“I didn’t fucking kidnap you! Okay? I didn’t do shit!” Jason quickly argued back, finally now realizing that you thought he had put you here in the first place. “I’m here to rescue you!” He said each of these words slowly, looking you in the eyes, hoping that his point would get across more firmly this way.

There was a tense moment as you stared back at him with your jaw locked. It was likely that if your feet hadn’t still been tied, you would have run away - or kicked him. Jason was thankful that you couldn’t do either at the moment.

“Why?” You asked, finally breaking the tension.

“What?” Jason gaped.

This was the last thing he had been expecting.

He was saving you - why were you questioning him?

“Why are you ‘rescuing’ me?” You asked, taunting his phrasing of it with a mocking tone and large air quotes. He now regretted freeing your hands. “So you can bargain me off to Dick for ransom money? So you can put a bomb in my chest?”

You said the last part with intense disdain, tears dancing in your eyes.

So you did know what a monster he was.

He was surprised that you hadn’t hit him harder.

Jason heaved a sigh. He reached over and picked up the knife, very slowly, very tentatively resuming cutting the ropes on your legs to free you.

“I’m just freeing you so that you can be free. That’s it.” He said quietly, defeat lacing through every inch of his voice. “You don’t deserve this.”

He cut the last rope and folded the knife, sticking it back in his belt. He stood up then and caught a glimpse of your face - you were wearing the most complex expression he had ever seen. Perhaps confusion, perhaps anger. Maybe somewhere deep in your eyes - hurt.

He turned and moved to leave, hoping you would simply follow him out of the confusing maze of the building and he wouldn’t have to drag you out kicking and screaming.

“That’s not an answer.” You told him, your tone sharp and certain - the same tone you always used to correct him.

Jason whipped back around then, heaving a sigh as he looked at you - standing in the middle of the room now, arms folded over your chest, glaring at him on the spot. Cocky and so sure about yourself. Too damn certain and immobile in your points. Infuriating.

“Why the fuck do you have to make everything so damn complicated?” Jason shot back, annoyance and dread tight in every inch of him. “Why do you have to interrogate me about every damn thing that I do?”

“Because you make stupid ass decisions when I don’t.” You easily fired back. “Now tell me: why are you doing this?”

“Because I wanted to.” Jason huffed.

“Why?” You prodded again.

He let out another hot huff, and you didn’t let it go.

“Come on Jason!” You shouted, increasing in volume as you became more frustrated with his lack of an answer. “You didn’t just develop a conscience all of a sudden! Why did you feel the need to suddenly drop everything and come to my rescue? What makes me different than Hank? What makes me different than-?”

It was the annoyance grinding on him. It was a combination of your nagging voice, the lack of drugs in his system for the first time in weeks. The rawness of the world ragging on his last good nerve. The sound of your voice putting him in line - exactly where he was supposed to be. The way you reminded him of the truth now more than ever.

“Because I’m in love with you!” Jason shouted.

It was almost… angry. It was a declaration that hit you like a whip - more like an insult than something warm and kind. It wasn’t made of sweetness, like some moment from a film with a gentle piano riff wrapped around it. It was real - made of the haunting kind of passion that kept Jason awake at night.

Your eyes widened. Jason’s breathing stilled as he waited for you to react - to say something.

“Oh.” Your voice cracked around this syllable, and your eyes danced with more tears.

Jason felt his own heart crack apart inside of his chest, more terror flooding him.

He had died with the secret because he had never wanted to live up to the embarrassing vulnerability of confessing it. In the deepest part of his mind, he had lived this horror a thousand times. Him finally creeping out onto the edge of oblivion - speaking those words. Confessing. And then you stabbing him in the heart, rejecting him.

The reality of it ripped through him so much harder than it ever had in his nightmares.

Any last tiny piece of his soul that had survived being murdered by the Joker had just been shattered by you.

“Yeah. Fucking oh.” Jason echoed back, his own tears clutching at his throat.

Seeing him with that naked vulnerability dancing behind his eyes - it reminded you of the same person who came back from being kidnapped by Doctor Light. It reminded you of the real Jason you had gotten to know.

In that moment, it all came crashing toward you. You gasped harshly as you could barely breathe around it.

That hole in your chest had been shaped like a lover - it had been shaped like him. Filled with the pain of letting him get hurt, leaving him alone in Gotham to be murdered by the Joker. Filled with the doubt and confusion of never knowing what could have been between the two of you if you had chased those flirtations a little bit farther.

And now, he was standing right here in front of you, somehow perfectly alive and well - and there was only one possible thing you could do.

“Jason.” You gasped out his name, unable to fathom more words.

Before he could move, you reached out and grabbed both sides of his face, one of them still singed with a burning ache where you had slapped him so hard - and you pulled him into a kiss, hard.

It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t dainty or smooth like some Hollywood love confession - it was hungry. Bordering on feral as you both fought to consume more of the other person, bleeding out little moans and fighting for breath past each other’s lips. Jason’s hands rushed to embrace you, wrapping around your back and grabbing a needy, possessive handful of your ass while you kept your grip tight on his face, keeping his face forcefully close to your own as you devoured his mouth.

You felt some of his tears escape - such a rush of emotions making him raw and unable to hold them back, and you moaned pitifully into his mouth as he wetness slipped underneath your palms. Whatever it was - his pain, his pleasure; you would take it. He was all yours now.

…

Far off, on the other side of Gotham, Crane chuckled quietly to himself as he watched the scene unfold. He had pulled up the camera feed on a separate tablet, seeing as Jason had used his head to crack the monitor. With his broken arm bound in a temporary sling, he used his one good hand to pull something out of a drawer - a remote with a single button.

“For these violent delights have violent ends,” He recited to himself, still grinning widely as he looked at the two lovers in the grainy, black and white footage. “And in their triumph, die like fire and powder. Which as they kiss, consume. Even the sweetest honey is loathsome in his own deliciousness, if the taste confounds the appetite.” Crane poised his finger on the button. “Therefore, love moderately.”

He pressed down, and dissolved into more epic laughter as he watched what came next.

…

You were only human, and you could only kiss Jason for a few minutes before your brain demanded oxygen. As much as you hated to pull away from the sweet, bruising sting of his lips, you forced yourself back and immediately took in a sharp breath that turned into a rolling pant - Jason let out a needy whine in protest.

With his arms holding you so securely and the dizzying heat now flowing through you - you almost didn’t catch it. But it was there, in the background, something steadily present that wasn’t there before.

Beeping. A small, electronic beeping.

“Do you hear that?” You asked Jason, squinting your eyes with confusion and looking around, trying to find the source of the noise.

He did hear it.

“Fuck.” Jason mumbled.

Panic flooded him. The whole thing had been a trap.

He pulled away from you hesitantly and grabbed his mask up off the ground, snapping it back on.

“We have to go. Now.” He told you, his voice now sharp and robotic through the voice filter as he grabbed your wrist and began dragging you away - you became limp to his direction for once and simply followed, fear tight in your gut once again.

Jason didn’t want to consider the possibilities, but he knew it could be anything from a large bomb, meant to tear you to shreds, to a large dose of fear gas waiting to be deployed. And he didn’t have an antidote at the moment. He needed to get you out of the building and transport you to safety.

When the two of you came to a door - one of the many that Jason had passed through on his way in - it snapped shut in Jason’s face. It was on some kind of mechanical locking system, that much was apparent. Jason rushed forward, trying to pry it open - but it was welded steel, and it wouldn’t budge.

Jason heard more slamming - more metal forcing itself shut on the same locking system.

“Jason?” You croaked, that unsure terror back in your voice again. Something so rare for you. You were looking to him for answers. You were looking to him to rescue you.

Overhead, the last bits of light were shut out - glimpses of the street lights outside - as thick metal shudders collapsed down over the windows. The room was sealing itself shut, becoming air tight.

“Stand back.” Jason told you, not waiting to see if you followed the instruction before he pulled out one of his guns and began shooting at the door’s heavy metal hinges. He knew it was futile and he feared that one of the bullets might ricochet off and hit you, but he didn’t have many options left.

Then he heard it. The gentle hissing of gas being released into the air.

Jason was naive to have hoped that it was Crane’s classic Fear Gas - that would have been a merciful walk in the park compared to what he had planned for you. Betraying Jonathan Crane meant that Jason had to be truly punished.

Jason turned to you, wrapping his arms around you, as if trying to shield you from the air itself - but it was too late. You began coughing and struggling to breathe, and Jason looked on with confusion as his chest twisted with guilt.

With his helmet on, he felt nothing. For the first few moments, he didn’t even understand what was going on as you gasped for air, struggling to form a word as you choked on each breath. Jason had no clue what the substance was or how he could fix it, looking on in horror as thick fog clouded around your ankles - your eyes bulging out of your head as you struggled for oxygen.

“Y/N?” Jason gasped, holding you by both shoulders as you became weaker and leaned on him. “Y/N?”

You couldn’t answer him.

You continued to wheeze, your breath hitching against your throat harshly. As the fog reached up to touch your face, it left angry, blistering marks in your skin. Unlike Jason, you had no armor to protect yourself - and somehow, Crane had turned the air itself acidic. Your eyes became wrecked with bloody red streaks and your face swelled as you continued to choke.

Jason’s insides screamed, but he felt too still.

As more of the fog touched you, some of the marks on your neck and your cheek blistered more and opened up, bleeding out pinkish bubbling puss as Jason continued to hold you - he didn’t know what else to do.

All he could do was hold you.

A harsh foam seeped out of your mouth as you choked on your last half-breath, and Jason felt a stinging pain consuming him - he wasn’t sure if it was the acidic fog finally breaching through his clothing, or the biting pain of having you limp in his arms - dead, as he huddled there on the floor.

“Come on.” Jason wept, steaming up the inside of his helmet as he recycled back his own breath now. He reached up to your cheek, accidentally skimming off a layer of your marred skin with his gloved thumb as he tried to wipe away some of the teary blood that had leaked from your eyes. “Come on, Y/N. Wake up.”

Jason simply wept. And he held you.

As he looked at the camera feed, Crane smiled.

“This is what happens when you don’t play by the rules, Red.”

...

A/N: SOOOO obviously this ending leaves us with a lot of questions - did Jason survive? I think this can be interpreted one of two ways: one, Jason did live. He managed to escape somehow, and he had scars all over his body from the acidic fog, and he enacted a very vicious, bloody, torturous revenge on Crane before going into hiding forever (or before using Red Hood to give actual justice to innocent people who needed it, his scars always a reminder of who he lost). Or - he sat there in shock and eventually choked to death as well. Or he pulled the whole 'my life is not worth living anymore' thing and just took off his helmet on purpose. So you can imagine that either of those things happened next.

Also, if you didn't catch it (or, if you're not a Saw person) - this situation was heavily inspired by the final plot twist trap in Saw X. I love the acidic fog, and I feel like Crane could be a trap guy. The Titans version of Crane could be good friends with John, imo.

Also, if you enjoyed this fic, check out my DC Titans Masterlist for more of my other fics!! And please consider reblogging and commenting on this fic to tell me what you liked about it.

#sundrop writes #jason todd #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd x gender neutral reader #jason todd x gn!reader #titans fanfiction #dc titans #titans x reader #dc titans fanfiction

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whathorselegs · 3 months

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This is probably going to be controversial take (I mean no harm by it, and its not hate directed at anyone), but the reason Dazai shooting at Akutagawa in Dark Era is so shocking to people is because he did it to a character we've had time to get attached to.

If Dazai had shot/killed/wounded a random subordinate for messing up his plans, it would be in all the PM!Dazai remixes as one of his dark and cool moments. Like when he's repeatedly shooting that guy in fifteen. It's messed up, but it doesn't happen to a character we're attached to, it happens to an enemy, so we swallow Dazai doing it much easier. If Akutagawa had been a random subordinate, people might even say Dazai was right to do it because that subordinate did a dumb thing that led their investigation to a dead end. (This is theoretical example not my opinion, I don't agree with what Dazai did)

I'm not justifying what Dazai did, but it's the framing that makes this so much more "evil" and unforgivable for people than anything else PM!Dazai did. It's stated multiple times Dazai was terrible to his enemies AND his own subordinates. Akutagawa wasn't the exception, he was just the one we care about. (Q too, though I see less talk about that and we're not actually shown what happened to Q)

Yes, it is cruel, no denying that, he hurts Akutagawa to teach him a lesson, that what's the mafia life has taught Dazai is effective. I'd argue though, it's not anymore cruel than what Yosano does to Tanizaki and Kunikida. She literally tortures them, but it's fine because it's played off as a joke and they're healed in the end. When in reality it's Yosano taking out her trauma on her patients and friends, and she's enjoying it. She didn't need her patients to be half dead in the flashbacks, that came after the trauma. She hurts them to discourage them from getting hurt again in the future. (Again, no hate intended, I love Yosano and all her complexities)

Dazai hurt Akutagawa the same way. Except it's never told as a joke. It happens brutally because it is and the show wants you to feel it in those moments. There is plenty brutal things that Dazai does that are played off as not serious. What he does to Ango with the airbag in his car is brutal. Yet its framed as a dark but necessary action, we're supposed to agree with Dazai because it ultimately saves Kyouka and Dazai gets to have some vengeance. It's a framed as a victory over Ango that we're supposed to support.

Chuuya is constantly being brutal in fights. He kills those people in the woods when he goes to retrieve Q and it's not a gentle killing either. He enjoys the fight, he's happy to get his hands dirty, he likes throwing bullets at people. And we accept this because he does it to the "bad guys".

Yet when Chuuya murdered the guards at Meursault, people thought this was out of character for him. It wasn't. These characters simply seemed more like innocent bystanders to the audience so the reality of how vicious Chuuya's actions were, kicked back in.

So many characters do messed up things in BSD, to pin one as irredeemable because of them doesn't make sense when so many characters are guilty of similar actions. People put Oda up on a pedestal just like Dazai does, because he stopped killing and took in some kids, but he was still a murderer, he still shot and maimed people with ease, as long as they were breathing he was fine with hurting them.

Sure, you can certainly say, "I no longer like this character because of their actions." and that's perfectly fine. You have no obligation to like a character, your preferences are perfectly valid. I just don't believe there's meant to be such a thing as irredeemable or truly evil in BSD. Just people who choose to keep hurting others, and those who try to be better than who they once were.

Dazai has hurt literal hundreds of people during his mafia years but that's off screen and to nameless background characters, it's easier to dismiss. The way he treats Akutagawa is a reminder to the audience that all the characters' actions have consequences. That Atsushi's hero was another person's nightmare and that BSD has many characters like this.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd dazai #bsd akutagawa #rambling #bsd #I'll say it again in the tags #no hate is intended here #this is not a post saying you have to like Dazai #I'm just writing out my thoughts about BSDs framing of actions

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sadisticsongbird · 3 months

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playing god's game ~ coriolanus snow

two

warnings: none that i can think of

word count: 3.8k

a/n: i thought i had it on a scheduled post but she was still sitting in my drafts this morning. here we are. CHAPTER TWO!

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“Everyone else is dismissed to class,” your professor said from the front of the stage.

You knew you had to move, but you were frozen in your seat. It was over and your name wasn’t called. And Coriolanus Snow was gloating about it, his smirk directed towards you. Sejanus was also looking in your direction, filled with concern, but you weren’t looking at him. Your attention was locked on Snow. Your shyness wouldn’t let you look away. Besides the coldness, there was something captivating about his eyes. He held your gaze as long as he could before he was whisked away to discuss tomorrow.

Looking down at the floor, you gathered yourself before finally standing. You had to go to class carrying the shame of failure upon yourself. Was it even worth it? To continue your education when you knew that there was nothing for you beyond? Before you knew it, your feet were carrying you away from the school and back towards the Corso where your decaying house stood.

You felt numb. After all of the late nights you had endured making sure that your work was nothing short of impeccable, after all of the hours you committed to serving your country and its people, after all your work, it wasn’t worth anything. You believed, actually believed that you could do this. Win. But all you did was prove everyone else right about you. That you weren’t worth it.

You didn’t know how much time had passed, laying in your bed before you heard a knock on the door. Thankfully, your mother was still sleeping, but the noise had woken you up. The pounding continued until you made it to the front door, swinging it open to see Sejanus.

“Sej, what are you doing here?” your voice cracking. The sleep and tears had caused your throat to hurt a little.

“I came to see how you were. You weren’t in class after I got back, so I figured you had gone home,” he said, still standing outside your apartment door.

There were a few moments of silence before you finally collapsed into his chest. He barely caught you, but you didn’t touch the ground. He let you cry into his chest as he picked you up and brought you into the room, kicking the door shut behind him.

“Shh, Y/N, it’s okay.” His hands moved through your hair, trying to calm you down.

“Did you know?” you asked, sobbing.

“No, NO,” he reassured. “I knew as much as you did. I knew that my father had been planning something, but I couldn’t have known that it was this. I would have warned you.”

That gave you some peace, knowing that this affected everyone hoping to win. You brought your head up from his chest, willing yourself to look him in the eye. “How did I not-” you started, before your voice gave out once again.

“I don’t know.” He brought his hand up to wipe away your tears. You smiled into his touch, knowing that he cared.

Interrupting the moment was the sound of your mom screaming from inside her room. Sejanus knew immediately what it was. He was just about the only one who knew the true condition of your family. You had been able to be vulnerable with him because, although he had money to sustain him for the rest of his life, he did know what it was like to live a life hiding what you truly were. As much as Sejanus hated the way that things operated in the Capitol and how much he just wanted to be HOME in the districts, he had to put up a front and be as Capitol as he could to hide those feelings from his classmates. You sympathized with him, having to live out a life you didn’t necessarily agree with. While your dispute with the way the government has been run after the war didn’t run as deep as his, the one thing you could agree on was the Hunger Games. It was dishuman, sending kids your age into an arena to fight for their lives by killing one another. It didn’t seem representative of what a newly organized government was supposed to be.

Both you and Sejanus moved at the noise, but you pushed him back, wanting to see the state of your mother before you allowed him to help. She wandered out of her room and down the hall. After last night's nightmares, her hair was all tangled and greased with sweat. You knew you should give her a bath but you waited until he was gone, so you opted for bringing her to the table to feed her. She hadn’t eaten well for you lately, barely taking more than three bites off of her plate, but hopefully with Sejanus’s help, you could convince her to eat more. Part of you knew it was because he reminded her of your father, which you disagreed with, but as long as it made her happy, you didn’t care.

“Y/N, are you home?”

“Yeah, Mama. I am. Sejanus is here, too,” you said, making your way over to her and brushing your hands through her tangled head. At the mention of Sejanus, she moved her gaze from the ground to look over your shoulder at the boy. She didn’t smile. Only glanced.

He waved to her, though she didn’t acknowledge him. Regardless, he came up behind you to exchange your mother so that you could go to the kitchen. You weren’t sure exactly what you were going to make, your fridge practically empty. He brought her to a seat at the table, sitting and conversing with her while you made something up for her to eat. It wasn’t much, but you only had so much bread and marmalade left. It would be another few days before you could pick up some more food from the Corso marketplace.

As you reentered the dining area, Sejanus seemed to be telling your mother a story while she kept a dead stare down towards her placemat on the table. You set the plate down in front of her, redirecting your own gaze to Sejanus.

“Don’t you have to get back to class?”

“I haven’t been here too long. Are you trying to kick me out, Stillwater?” he joked, but all it did was manage to creep a small grin on your face before it disappeared again. He got up from his seat, slinging his bag around to the back of his form. “Listen, come tomorrow. Take the day off today, but come tomorrow. Don’t let them know they got to you.”

You shrugged slightly, remembering the way that Coriolanus smirked at you from the stage. You hadn’t thought about it that way before, but by hiding, you were just reinforcing Snow’s thoughts about you right. But if you could muster enough courage and show up tomorrow, show him that it didn’t affect you, then you would.

“Thanks, Sej,” you said, hugging him. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He mutually wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you lightly before letting you go.

“I really have to get back now, but I WILL see you tomorrow. Just rest,” he reassured, making his way closer to the door. Leaving you standing halfway between your mother and the door, you watched as he closed the door behind him.

“Phillip?” your mother asked from behind you when she heard the door. You turned around to see her looking earnestly at the entrance.

“No, Mama. Just Sejanus.”

You made your way back to the table and took a seat on the chair next to her. Grabbing the piece of bread laying in front of her, you held it up to her mouth and tried to encourage her to take a bite. She opened her mouth only a little ways , but enough that you could slide the food in between her lips and persuade her to take a bite.

How were you going to break it to your mother that your lives as you knew it were going to be over? There was nothing that you could do now to ensure that your family name was upheld, that you could get a job, make something of yourself. At least now you could stay home and take care of your mother after graduation. But you knew that you didn’t want that.

“What am I gonna do, Mama?”

“They can’t just…do that? Can they?” Tigris asked, standing in Coriolanus’s doorway.

“I don’t know, but they did,” he said, pulling his bag over his head to set down on his bed. “All I know is that this is the last chance to REALLY prove myself. All that’s standing in between me and the money now are 23 people.”

“Did they happen to mention what the final test was?” she asked, skeptic of the hidden motives behind this change in rules. “It can’t be a happy coincidence that the Reaping for the games is tomorrow.”

The Games? Between the hustle of worrying about the Plinth Prize and his schoolwork, he forgot that the Reaping was even close to approaching. Could the final test be involved with this annual bloodbath?

“It’s possible, but I’m sure that it will just be academic like every other qualification. To involve the games is a challenge on a whole other level.” Not one that he wouldn’t be willing to complete, but a challenge nonetheless. “All they asked was for us to be dressed up in the assembly hall tomorrow morning for our assignment.” He paused for a moment. “Would you be able to get my father’s shirt ironed out for tomorrow?”

His cousin smiled at the question, eager to help Coriolanus as much as she could. “Of course, Corio.” She walked over to his closet, pulling out one of the only remaining objects he has to remember his parents by. “I’ll take it with me to work this evening.”

“Are you working overnight again?” he asks.

She gave him a knowing look. “You know we have to pay the rent somehow. With you at school all day, there’s no other way. I’ll be back before you get up,” she reassured him.

Coriolanus knew that his cousin was exhausted from all of the work she did. He had offered multiple times to get a job, but she always scolded him, telling him that his education had to come first. But that was why it was so important to win the prize money. He could not only pave his way in the Capitol but also pay Tigris back for everything she’s done to support his family. Giving one another a slight smile as a goodbye, Coriolanus watched as Tigris left him alone in his bedroom.

It wasn’t super late yet, but the toll of starvation was beginning to set on him, making him want to sleep. He wasn’t proud of it, but he had managed to hide the misfortune of his family for years, always desperately trying to seem like he wasn’t out of place. It was always hiding the fact that he hadn’t eaten in days. It was always hiding the sweat over his brow from having to take the long walk to school because his family couldn’t afford a driver. Coriolanus felt like a fraud, but he couldn’t let others know that. The Plinth Prize would make it so he didn’t have to hide anymore. And no one - NO ONE - was going to get in his way.

“Tigris?” Coriolanus’s voice booms down the hall. As he nears closer to the main hall, he hears his Grandma’am singing the Gem of Panem. “Tigris, where’s the shirt?”

As he approaches his grandmother, he compliments her briefly before asking for his cousin's whereabouts. She barely gets a word out before they both turn around to the sound of a door closing.

“Coryo?”

“Tigris?” he responds, leaving his Grandma’am behind to find his cousin holding his father’s shirt, as white as he had ever seen it.

“I’m sorry. I know I’m late. But look, I did it. Or, I did something. I think it’s really gorgeous.”

He took a pause taking the fabric in his hands before looking up at Tigris. “It’s beautiful. Best cousin ever. Tell me everything,” he finished, swinging the shirt around his frame to put it on.

“Where do I start?” she began, walking down the hall and towards the kitchen. “I told Fabricia at work that she needed to bleach her white curtains and I slipped the shirt in when I did it. The tesserae buttons I made from-”

“From the bathroom tiles. Brilliant,” Coriolanus interrupted.

“Oh. Did you find the potatoes? I boiled them for the starch and you should really eat something today.”

Tigris opened the fridge, giving Coriolanus another view of the bare appliance from the threshold of their small apartment kitchen. His stomach growled, though he hoped his cousin didn’t hear it. “Save them for Grandma’am.”

She smiled briefly before shutting the fridge again and brushing past him once more to find their grandmother. “You look so handsome. Grandma’am! Come see!” Once they made it back to the main room, she grabbed the vest that he would wear over top of the shirt, holding it out for him to slip his arms into. “Coriolanus Snow. Future president of Panem. We salute you,” she spoke, a sarcastic manner in her tone, although he knew that it was all fun.

Before he could even get his vest buttoned in the front, his grandmother approached him with a small red rose attached to a pin. “Grandma’am-”

“I can grow plenty more after today,” she scolded him, positioning the flower on his clothes.

He inhaled deeply before speaking again. “Got the grades, never missed class. Ten years. Even Dean Highbottom can’t deny us this now.”

“Dean doesn’t hate you.”

“He hates everyone. He despises me,” he argues with his cousin as he finishes tying the top button. There was always an underlying tone in his conversations with the Dean. Something in his eyes when he looked at Coriolanus. The blonde boy could never quite pin what it was, but he knew that Highbottom had something against him “What’s the first thing you’ll spend the prize money on? New dress? Chocolate?,” he asks, changing the subject.

“Chocolate!” Grandma’am exclaims quietly.

“It’s the Plinth Prize, Tigris. We’ll be able to pay the rent,” he says, securing his cuffs. “Snow lands on top.”

For a change, Sejanus came to pick you up from your house in the morning. Without having to speak a word, he gave you one of his Ma’s sweet specialties as you slipped your arm in his. You gave him a wary smile, still nervous about today. After yesterday’s events, you were scared to show your face back at school, but you knew that no one saw this failure as hard as you did. You could just blend in with all of the other unchosen students in your red uniform. Unchosen. The word left a sour taste in your mouth.

You were pleasantly surprised when you saw the Plinth’s car waiting for you down stairs, his Ma standing outside waiting to give you a hug. Without a warning, you left Sejanus’s side and ran towards his mother.

“Ma!” you screamed, wrapping your arms around her. She matched your excitement, squeezing your form in her arms.

“How are you my sweet girl?”

“I’m well, Ma.” She always smiled when you would refer to her as ‘Ma.’ With the absence of a consistent mother in your life, she was the closest that you could get and Sejanus was more than willing to share if it meant you got to have some form of normality in your life.

“I heard about the names,” she said, letting you go, but bringing her hand up to cradle your cheek. “I’m so sorry, Y/N/N. If Strabo or I had any control-”

“It’s okay,” you interrupted her. “I’m okay.”

She clearly doubts your words, but doesn’t say anything, huddling both you and her son in the car. The entire ride, Ma would ask you how your mother was doing, how school was going, if you needed anything. You enjoyed your conversations with her, something you missed out on with your own mother. Sejanus would often join in, making jokes and embarrassing you, but today he sat straightforward, his gaze directed only out the window. He had barely said two words to you the whole morning.

“Strabo’s already at the Academy. They have big announcement about the Prize this morning and needed to consult him beforehand.”

At that, your best friend scoffed from across you, making the two of you move your gaze to him. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, his mother interrupted him.

“Sejanus. Don’t”

It was the strictest you’ve ever heard her, but you paid no mind to it as the car pulled up to the entrance of school. The front was practically barren, all of the students, faculty, and spectators inside already. Sejanus got out of the car first, helping both you and his mother to your feet.

The moment you entered the auditorium, you were met by Mr. Plinth and a room organized with a podium and rows of seats ready for 24 to use.

“Darling,” Strabo welcomed his wife, briefly acknowledging you and Sejanus.

“Hello, Mr. Plinth,” you said. Turning to your friend, you expected him to welcome his father, but all he did was stay silent, practically glaring at Strabo. You watched the interaction briefly before zoning out, focusing on the group of people that had collected in the center of the room to the right of you.

All dressed in their best, Arachne Crane, Festus Creed, Felix Ravenstill, and Coriolanus Snow. You watched as they glanced over at you and the Plinths, smirking to themselves briefly then returning to their group huddle. All except Snow who kept his gaze on you a second longer. You suddenly felt overly self-conscious. You were already aware that you didn’t fit in, the only one of the bunch neatly dressed in your red Academy uniform. Sejanus bumped your shoulder, signaling you that he wanted to get away from his parents and prepare for the ceremony.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he harshly replied, dragging you over to the group you had occupied yourself with staring at.

As you approached them, Festus was talking, but dropped his words when he saw the two of you approaching.

“Sejanus,” Festus started, completely ignoring your presence. “You made it to the Reaping for once.”

“And you made it to graduation, Festus. We’re both shocked,” Sejanus retorted without hesitation.

“Spill it. Your father’s in charge, so what’s this rule change? Who won the prize?” Arachne asked.

“Oh, no, I’m not gonna ruin my father’s big day. No one here actually likes him, but they do love his money.” He paused. “You know what that’s like, don’t you, Arachne?”

You chuckled next to him, hearing another small laugh across from you. Looking up, you found Coriolanus with a smile on his face. When his eyes met yours, it was as if it wasn’t there in the first place

“Funny,” Arachne sarcastically commented.

Suddenly, a fanfare played above all of the voices in the auditorium, signaling to everybody that they had to find their seats. You began walking along Sejanus towards the front where he was to sit, but before you could get there you stopped and slotted yourself amongst the crowd right behind the 24 chairs.

“I’ll come find you after.”

You smiled at him, fiddling with your fingers as you watched him walk away and sit where you longed to be right now. The anthem continued to play as a laugh was heard from the front podium.

“How tantalizing to see all your shining young faces on this auspicious day,” the voice boomed. Raising your head, your body froze with fear. “I am Dr. Volumnia Gaul, your humble Head Gamemaker, in charge of the War Department and all its affiliated concerns. I’ve broken free of my laboratory today, to examine you. The leaders of the next generation. I won’t be around forever, after all.” She laughed briefly at her words. “And now to that end, I am honored to introduce to you the creator of the Hunger Games themselves. Dean Casca Highbottom.” With her closing words, she brought herself down from the podium, finding a spot in the dark to sit and observe the rest of the assembly.

Anyone hardly ever saw the Head Gamemaker, usually keeping herself locked up in the labs to concoct the next big thing to improve the decade old games. You knew that people were getting tired of watching, but with the threat of Dr. Gaul as a gamemaker hanging over their head, no one dared not to seem interested.

A small grumble came from the back of the room, making everyone turn around to see the Dean facing the back of the auditorium. There was a moment of silence that deafened the space before he cleared his throat and finally spoke up.

Making his way towards the front, he began. “Select students, faculty, and, of course, Dr. Gaul, I have summoned you all here today for the 10th annual Reaping Ceremony in which we choose two children from each district to throw into the Capitol Arena to fight to the death in the Hunger Games.” All eyes followed the short man as he made his way down the aisle. “And here sit our own 24 top prospects, all waiting to hear the results of hard study in this prestigious institution. Well…” The dean began to laugh to himself. “...almost all 24.”

A murmur made its way through the crowd of the students, wondering what the catch was.

“It was brought to myself and Dr. Gaul’s attention yesterday that Ms. Price,” he said, gesturing to the girl in the blue dress directly behind Sejanus, “has been caught cheating in her schoolwork.” He emphasized ‘cheating.’ “So, Ms. Price, you will no longer be considered for the Plinth Prize. You will be escorted to the entrance on suspension for the remainder of the year.”

You glanced toward the group that was sitting around her, watching Festus chuckle under his breath as the girl sat there, face red as your uniform. She didn’t move from her seat until two members of the Academy faculty gathered her to bring away. The entire auditorium followed her as she was removed from the building, down the aisle that the dean had walked only moments ago.

“Y/N Stillwater.”

At the mention of your name, you turned around, making sure you weren’t hallucinating. But sure enough the dean had said your name.

“Please make your way to the front.”

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow fluff #coriolanus snow angst #coriolanus snow imagine #tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x you #tom blyth smut #tom blyth fluff #tom blyth angst #tom blyth imagine

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