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#and one of the most powerful things in the book for me is how vivid and crude the /ugly/ parts are

strawbeerossi · 8 months

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Grading Papers

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: You are Dr. Reid’s TA. One night, he asks you to stay late and help grade papers, only to see you worked up. It’s a good thing he has the perfect solution for that.

Content/Warnings: Power imbalance, age gap (20s/40s), sexual tension, thigh riding, praise.

Word Count: 1.2K

Kinktober Day Twelve: Thigh Riding

Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3

Whenever Dr. Reid had approached you about staying a little later after your class to assist him in grading papers, you reluctantly agreed. It wasn’t like you were uncomfortable with him, in fact it was the complete opposite. Ever since you’d been placed as a TA for his class, you had a massive crush on the older man. Every person in your class did, honestly. There was a reason he had the most students auditing his classes, he was very attractive and his dumbfounded reaction to learning so many students used the class just to look at him just added to his charming demeanor.

He was an understanding man, always willing to listen and work with any student who needed his assistance. It didn’t help that he had a million dollar smile, one that made your heart flutter when it was flashed in your direction. You were in love with a man who was surely old enough to be your father.. Yet you felt no shame.

You’d had vivid fantasies, ones where Spencer would call you in his office and push you against the wall, taking you right there while proclaiming how he’d had his eye on you since he met you.

You could admit you were a little delusional but nobody could blame you. Who doesn’t want professor Reid to bend them over his desk and-

You were cut off by a throat clear, making you snap out of your thoughts. “It’s good to see you, thank you for coming by. I appreciate you coming to assist me tonight.” He could’ve done it by himself, in all honesty. The papers were quick and easy to blow through, especially with the ability that Spencer had when it came to reading. Instead, he’d invited you here for something else..

“Oh, it was no problem. I didn’t have much else that needed to get done and it is my job to help you when you need it.” You spoke while offering a smile, discarding your backpack before putting it on the floor by his desk. “I’m so glad to hear that. I went ahead and split up the assignments equally.” He assured while passing over a stack of typed up research papers. “I have a chair over here that you can take. My desk is big enough to fit both of us.” He chuckled and gestured to the chair pulled up beside him.

The idea of being so close to Spencer had your cheeks heating up, head nodding as you approached his side and pulled out the chair to seat yourself. It was like you were a horny teenager who was getting worked up just by having your knee touch his, the warmth of your body and the tension bubbling over. “You alright?” Spencer soon asked, an eyebrow raising at how fidgety you were. He was a profiler and you knew that, you’d learned he could see all the tells and read you like a book if he really wanted to. Still, you lied. “Oh! I think I’m just a little scatterbrained tonight.” You tried to save yourself the embarrassment of telling the older man your perverted and sinful thoughts.

There was a huff that fell from Spencer’s lips, his hands coming out to gently grab your hips before tugging you into his lap. The sudden action had your eyes widening, propped up in the male’s lap as you quickly turned your head to look at him. “Dr. Reid!” Your voice came out in a squeak, making the man shrug his shoulders nonchalantly. “You’re free to get up but given your body language, I can tell this is much more than being scatterbrained. Believe me, I know the signs of someone being turned on. As much as most won’t believe it, I’ve been around enough women to know the signs.”

He was chuckling as he brushed your hair off of your shoulder when you made no effort to move. “I have an offer to make. Don’t worry, you won’t be penalized for saying no, I’ll just back off.” He had to preface his point of not wanting to push things too far beyond your comfort zone. The idea was crazy, the man could lose his license to teach and be blacklisted from teaching. However, you felt just a little desperate. That was what made you nod your head slowly. “Y-yeah, okay.”

His large hands were resting against your hips while helping you stand, his hands moving to your pants to get them unbuttoned and tugged down your legs. “You seem so desperate. I bet you think about this a lot more than you’re letting on.” His tone was like velvet, his gaze on the panties that hugged your waist.

“How desperate are you though?” The question made you shiver as his hands were ever so gently lifting you up before perching you on his thigh with a soft smirk. This was him expecting you to crumble, to melt while rubbing yourself on his thigh..

You fed right into it, hips rocking steadily against the clothed thigh. The friction of the creases in his slacks against your clothed clit had electricity shooting through your body, mouth agape. “There we go. Does that feel good? Desperate little bunny.” He cooed, his hands guiding your hips as he was fixing the position of his thigh and pushing it up to apply pressure to your needy pussy. “Surprised you’ve lasted this long. You know, you aren’t exactly subtle with the way you look at me.”

Your face was heating up as he’d caught you, calling you out on your shameless fantasizing whenever you thought he wasn’t paying attention. “You’re so precious.” He began while chuckling softly, his words making your hips speed up on his thigh as you were rubbing your cunt along the creases of his pants, the delicious friction making you roughly grip his thigh.

“Gonna cum on my thigh and soak your panties with your cum?” He questioned, lips now pressing kisses along your shoulder. “Fuck, yes.” You whined, the slick arousal from your panties already seeping through and causing a small wet patch on his right thigh. “Well, what are you waiting for? These papers aren’t gonna grade themselves.” He mused, words dripping with amusement at you, one of his best TAs, left to a whining and whimpering mess while your desperation had you humping his thigh for relief.

The warmth spread over your body, a thin veil of sweat decorating your forehead as you let your head tilt forward, mouth agape while ragged breaths escaped your lips. The rush of arousal shot through your body, nails digging into the part of his thigh that you held as you were hitting your peak, a whine leaving your lips as you could feel the slick seep through your panties, leaving you with uncomfortably wet panties.

“There we go!” He cooed, gently rubbing your lower back as he was letting your shaking body lean back against his broad chest. “You can sit there as long as you want,” He commented with a chuckle as he was scooting his chair up to the desk while he was getting a few papers from his desk to read them.

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beautifulterriblequeen · 1 month

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TDP S6 poster!!!

let's see what we've got in this one! omgomgomg

this won't make a lot of sense, I'm just gushing

First impressions: there is a LOT of magic going on in this poster, and most of it seems to be Moon magic, which Aaravos is casting from his cool book.

There are moon moths everywhere!

Ethari's lotuses are everywhere too!

Some of them are breaking. Some of them have vivid colors coming from them. They could be from the differently colored crystals they all have.

There are also a large number of spirits in the picture!

There's also a red colored spirit, uh oh:

Is this one looking at the white one, do they see each other?

Aaravos has a full moon behind him, and his cube has a blazing moon rune on it. I'm not sure how many other moon themes this poster can hold, are we missing any?

Of interest, there's a thematic similarity to the key art we got of Rayla jumping into the Moon Nexus, where the lower left was dark and creepy with lost spirit arms and the upper right was lighter with the arms of her family reaching for her. In this art, those corners are again the darkest and lightest:

And then there's the man himself. His eyes are glowing bright with magic, he's got his bling on. And it's hard to be certain since we can't see his chest well but it's likely that his star is lit, as it gets when he casts magic.

Okay let's take a quick peek at what is actually happening in this poster. Aaravos is casting magic from the book. It's pouring out of the cool crescent-moon portal thingy there and swirling around.

eta: it's actually connecting the rune cube to the book, but I'm not sure which way the connection is flowing. But he seems to have plugged the cube in, and it is called the Key of Aaravos. Is this book the thing of great power that gets unlocked in Xadia?

And behind him, across the top of the art, you can see something else: a weaving of thick white strands.

What is he actually doing? Is he weaving them, or unweaving them? Is he just releasing three elves from their coins? This looks way more powerful - and destructive - than that. Is he releasing all the spirits ever? Why are there so many spirits in this picture?? Where are they from? Are they also trapped? Were they crossed over? Is he breaking the whole duality of life and death?

Aaravos wouldn't bother casting a measly little spell just to free three elves from coins just because Callum asks him to, not when he could flex stylishly and get something he also wants out of the deal.

Remember when he helped Viren get past Lux Aurea? He didn't have to kill Khessa and poison the Sunforge to help Viren reach Zym. But his method got the caterpillar a burst of primal magic so it could start growing, it stopped the Sunfire forces from retaliating, it gave him some form of payback on Aditi's bloodline, and it stopped the Sunfire elves from being able to use the Sunforge on anyone else corrupted with dark magic. Plus it netted him Pharos and made Viren trust him even more. It was indeed elegant and efficient.

So he's probably doing something on that level again here. Sure, Callum may have given him an opening to help Rayla's family out. But Aaravos will stop when Aaravos decides to stop, and not before. If Callum makes a deal to free three souls that he can't get out of their coins on his own, then Aaravos can definitely work with that.

But he thinks bigger. If Callum wants three souls freed, that's easy enough. But why stop at three? It's so inefficient. Maybe he attacks the Moon Nexus next, and makes it volcano out all the souls it's ever held and looses them on the world in some kind of spirit plague. Job still done, deal met, requirements satisfied. And while the mortals scramble to deal with his mess, he just does whatever he has planned next. All the better that he did something so big that no one can step away from cleaning it up to try to stop him!

Anyway. Art gives me thoughts. Very excited about this poster and its moontastic implications for S6!

#tdp #tdp spoilers #tdp s6 spoilers #tdp poster #tdp s6 poster #aaravos #moon themes are gonna be very big this season

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muddyorbsblr · 8 months

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circumstances of succumbency [kinktober 2023: bath/shower]

See the full Kinktober 2023 Collection here! See my full list of works here!

Summary: You and Magnus get stranded on the road while working a case and sought shelter at an inn that only had one room left. And one bed.

Pairing: older!Magnus Martinsson x Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: 18+ | smut (minors & pearl clutchers, kindly exit stage left I'll only ask nicely once); unprotected p in v sex; slight mention to masturbation/wankst; language; Magnus is her superior/boss so there's a bit of a power dynamic going on [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: coworkers to lovers; mutual pining; one bed only trope; translations in the Author's Notes

Dick-tionary (aka smut guide): When Magnus says "I won't have you apologizing", the smut starts. Proceed with caution.

"We're not going to be of any use to this case sleep-deprived and dragging this car through a snowstorm, Y/L/N. We should find some shelter and start fresh in the morning, and hopefully the weather will be a bit more agreeable."

Those were the famous last words that hammered in several nails to your coffin. You were still about an hour's drive away from the residence of a person of interest in your current case, but with the current state of the weather, you were more likely to get stranded in the middle of the road with a broken down engine than actually make it to your destination if you two stubbornly kept on your drive.

That was how you two ended up at a cozy little inn, the lady at the front desk shamelessly checking out Detective Superintendent Martinsson while she tried to book two rooms for you. A disappointed scowl painted her face as she told you both that there was only one room left for the night. With one bed.

Of course this happens, you grumbled internally. One room, one bed, one horny Y/N.

He tried to be a gentleman and offered you the bed, clearly uncomfortable with the whole arrangement as well. But after you both realized that there was no other furniture that the towering older man could somehow pretzel-fold himself into and sleep in for the night, you simply agreed that you'd pick a side of the bed and put the entire situation out of your minds come morning.

You distinctly remembered putting a considerable effort to count sheep and make your mind shut off despite the biting cold, slipping into slumber a shivering curled up heap on your side of the bed, one wrong move away from falling off and flopping onto the hard wood floor. So why was it that when you opened your eyes, the morning sun barely shining through the heavy clouds, you were deceptively comfortable and warm, with an arm wrapped around you and holding you against the lean and muscular body of the man that had been invading your most vivid scandalous dreams on a nightly basis?

This isn't happening this isn't happening, you tried to tell yourself, trying not to lean in to his warm embrace despite every cell in your body literally screaming to do exactly that. You're still dreaming, Y/N, it's time to wake up. He shuffled even closer to you, his nose nuzzling into the crook of your neck, and let out a sigh that sounded like he was almost…contented. The feel had you putting your fist to your mouth and biting down on your skin to refrain from making a sound.

Much as this was exactly where you fantasized about being when you were in the safety of your own home, you knew you had to squirm out of his sleep-laden embrace. You slipped your hand into his and tried to guide his arm up and away from your waist, only to have him reflexively pull out of your hold and go right back to holding you, shuffling even closer and letting out a whining sound as if he was bargaining to stay asleep for a few more minutes.

Before you could try again, you froze in his embrace when you felt his lips press a kiss to the back of your neck, followed by a near-reverent whisper of your name. You bit harder into your skin in a desperate attempt to hold back a moan as he kept on kissing a trail to your shoulder in lazy movements, obviously being guided by his sleep-adled brain.

Which had a little voice in your head screaming the question: If he was moving and talking the way he did because of his dream, then why did he say your name?

You didn't give yourself the time to mull it over, not willing to risk staying a second longer and having him wake up and have the sight of his disgust and shame seared into your memory. As fast as you could manage, you lifted his arm off you and rolled away from him, situating yourself again on the very edge of the bed and pretending that sleep still had its hooks in you.

Despite having slept in a bed that wasn't his own partnered with the undue stress of being stranded by means of a rather nasty snowstorm, Magnus had slept rather peacefully through the night. He was blessed with a rather blissful dream where by some miracle you didn't turn him away after he'd confessed his feelings for you. You even returned them.

And before you two headed off for work, he held you in bed and got to rouse you from your sleep with teasing kisses to your neck. The dream had felt so real that the image might stay with him to keep him company in the cold nights to come after closing this case with you.

When he woke in your shared room at the inn and saw you curled up at the edge of the bed, he wanted nothing more than to turn that dream into reality and pull you into his embrace. He was only stopped by the dreadful thought of how you could possibly react to such intimacy.

Probably with a right hook, a resignation letter, and a sexual harassment lawsuit in that order, you idiotic knob, he hissed at himself, sighing as he shrugged the covers off him and decided to check if the roads were clear enough to resume driving in a few hours.

He walked around the bed and couldn't resist the urge to take his covers and drape them over your own after seeing how you visibly shivered in your sleep. You let out an unintelligible sound while he was tucking the covers around you. "I'm up, I'm up," you mumbled, shifting around groggily.

"We don't have to leave yet," he spoke softly, doing his best not to wake you fully. "Just gonna check if it's safe to go back on the road." He moved your hair away from your face, a warmth spreading through his body upon seeing how serene you seemed in sleep. "You can rest a little while longer, sweet girl."

You let out a long exhale, a tiny contented smile playing at the corner of your mouth when you relaxed and leaned into his touch. He couldn't resist the urge to hold you just so for a few moments longer, nor the urge to press the lightest kiss between your brows before he stood and walked out of the room.

Mercifully the roads seemed much clearer and you two could probably resume your drive and your investigation in a few hours. Before that, though, he needed to go for a run. And hopefully keep all those intrusive thoughts of returning to your room and giving into his desires at bay. Sleeping in the same bed with you had blurred the lines of your relationship so dangerously that it took everything in him to remind himself that you deserved so much better than to have him shatter your trust in him by taking advantage of you and this situation.

"She deserves better than this. Better than you," he grumbled as he walked to his car to take out his running shoes.

With every pound of his feet on the pavement he tried to put it out of his mind the image of just how beautiful and peaceful you looked in bed. Tried to beat into submission the urge to crawl back under the covers next to you and roll the dice. The fantasy that perhaps if he pressed his body to yours your response would be to settle into his embrace. To press back.

Before he knew it three laps around the property turned into five. Then seven. Then ten. At the end of the tenth lap, Magnus somehow convinced himself that the distance he'd covered had placed a physical distance between him and the taunting image of you sleeping on the bed you two had shared last night.

He figured as well that enough time had passed and perhaps you'd woken up of your own accord, and you'd be alert and ready to get back on the road with him and get closer to cracking open the investigation.

There were two things that Magnus noticed once he'd returned to your shared room. First, you were out of bed, which only gave him the most temporary relief from the fantasies that were taunting him ever since he made the most foolish mistake of agreeing with you that you were both grown adults that could handle sharing a bed for the night while you were stranded.

The relief didn't last long because second, he heard the shower running. And now he struggled to even breathe knowing that mere feet away behind that closed bathroom door, you were naked and wet. And he wanted nothing more than to peel off the sweat-soaked layers of clothing on him and bring his daydreams to life.

"Stay where you are, Martinsson. If you give in, you'll lose her forever. Not to mention your badge," he grumbled to himself, burying his face his hands trying to put the mental image of what you might have looked like on the other side of the door well out of his mind.

That was until he heard a sound that seared itself into the darkest recesses of his most vivid fantasies. Whimpers that echoed off the tiles escaping through the bathroom door, followed by what sounded like a filthy variation of the talks he'd once heard you give yourself in the locker room before some of your more intimidating interrogations.

"Fuck's sake, Y/N, either think of someone other than Magnus Martinsson and get it over with so you can actually face him when you get back to the fucking car, or give up and turn the bloody shower on cold."

The air left Magnus' lungs once he heard the frustration that laced your tone. The words unraveling his restraint once it reached his ears. If knowing that you were on the other side of the door touching yourself already had his sanity and restraint hanging by a final thread, the realization that he was the subject of your fantasies snipped at that thread with the sharpest, most ostentatious shears known to man.

He never rushed to take his clothes off so fast in his life.

As soon as you heard Magnus step out of the room you rushed to the shower, trying your damnedest to get the vivid horny daydreams out of your system before he returned. You got close the first time, but then your mind wandered to how his lips felt on your skin when he kissed your neck. And then how those same soft lips kissed your forehead before he left the room.

And with every attempt it was like that elusive climax slinked away farther and farther, taunting you that the only way you could actually get to it was if you surrendered to the fact that the only way was letting the fantasy that starred the devastatingly attractive older man play out in your mind.

Screw it, it's no use, you told yourself, closing your fingers around the lever to turn the shower into its coldest setting.

Before you could change the temperature, a large hand closed around yours, fingers deftly prying yours away from the lever. Your body froze at the feel of another, equally naked body pressing against your back.

You couldn't help the shiver that ran through you when Magnus whispered your name, tracing his fingers up your spine and across your shoulder. Fuck, why was he doing this? you screamed inwardly. It was a bad enough situation why is he making it worse?

"Look, I'll stay in the back and I won't make a sound," you choked out, barely audible over the sound of the water. "You'll have my badge on your desk the moment we get back--"

"You will do no such thing." His words came out husked, laced with a combination of conviction and desperation that you couldn't rationalize for the life of you. "Turn around, sweet girl. Look at me."

You could feel your entire body tremble and shiver despite the hot water coming down, your knees shaking with every shuffling step you took to face him, not even sure where to look once you have. Ultimately you decided to shut your eyes, refusing to look anywhere for fear that your eyes might travel too far South.

"Magnus I'm sor--"

"Shh shh, darling." He tilted your chin upward. "Look at me, please. Let me see those beguiling eyes of yours." His thumb gently pressed on your quivering lips, tracing along your bottom lip until he coaxed you into a pout. You took a breath before opening your eyes, gasping when you caught sight of a soft smile on his face, looking at you with a gleam in his eyes that had your knees shaking even more. "There you are, sweet girl," he rasped, before leaning in and giving you a soft, tentative kiss.

You let out a whimper once he pulled away, causing him to let out a guttural sound before he pulled you flush against him. His erection pressed against your stomach, warm and pulsing on your skin.

"I won't have you apologizing," he told you huskily, hands traveling down your sides, squeezing your hips for a moment before stopping at the backs of your thighs. "And I won't have you resigning, either." He smirked at the little squeak that came out of you when your feet left the tiled floor, pressing you against the wall. "I won't have any of that talk from those perfect lips of yours."

He captured your lips with his in a kiss that stole your breath away, letting out a guttural sound against your mouth when your fingers weaved into his dampening curls. Your other hand dug into his shoulder as if holding on to any last remaining shred of your sanity while he maneuvered you so that your hips were lined up. "Magnus what're you--Oh f-f-fuck," you whimpered, your body shuddering in his hold as you felt him brushing the tip of his cock up and down your folds, teasing your entrance.

"The only thing I will have from now on, sweet girl, is you." His lips latched on to a spot between your neck and shoulder, moaning into your skin as he slid into you in a single smooth motion, your walls more than slickened enough from your failed attempts just minutes ago to bring yourself to climax. "Fullkomlighet," he whispered into your neck. "Du känner dig som himlen."

The sounds of your combined moans filled the room as he moved in you, first in slow, measured thrusts and gradually getting more frantic until the sounds of your pleasure were cut through with the sharp wet snap as your hips met. Your mind in such a haze that you hadn't realized how close you were to the release you'd been chasing earlier until his hand went back down to where your bodies were connected, fingers quickly finding and flicking hurriedly at the underside of your clit.

"Magnus!"

"Let go. I need to feel you coming apart around me. Just let go with me. I've got you, min kärlek."

He muffled your high pitched screams slanting his mouth over yours, deliciously groaning into your mouth when your tongues met in a desperate tangle. His hand curled around the back of your neck, keeping you from breaking the kiss while your body completely weakened and surrendered to your climax.

The sound of the shower knob turning broke through your haze. "Hmm?" Your unarticulated question quickly turned into a squeal muffled by his mouth when he shifted his hold on you, his length still hard. Still throbbing. And still inside you.

He began to walk you out of the bathroom. He smirked against your lips when you began to whimper, every step he took making you bounce slightly on his cock.

It was only once he had you laid out under him at the center of the bed that he broke the kiss, giving you a soft peck and a nip at your bottom lip before pulling away, his face hovering a few inches above yours. "Breathe, min kärlek." He moved your hands above your head, capturing both your wrists in one large hand and pinning them down to the mattress. "We'll leave and get back on the road in a few hours."

Magnus started moving in you again, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss when you arched your back off the bed, feeling every ridge of him sliding against your walls. "Wait, Magnus what do you mean--"

"I'm going to need a little more time with you before I can even think of getting back in that car and enduring the rest of the day without touching you, sweet girl." He let out a sinful moan, burying his face in the crook of your neck. "And then when we finally finish this case, you're coming home with me. From now on you're mine, min kärlek. Are we clear?"

Your answer caused him to snap his hips into yours. "Yes, Sir."

A/N: I've finally finished this piece and hopefully I can bang out (pun absolutely intended) another one this week for Conrad. Yes, I know October's done, but the initial goal stories aren't yet. And the stretch goal stories, as promised, are definitely still coming.

And while we're on the subject of biting off more than I can chew, I've made the decision to join NaNoWriMo again this year, so let's see if I can meet that bonkers goal of 50k words 🫡

Hope y'all liked this piece of older!Magnus spice 😏 Please do prepare yourselves for the next piece, 'slow & soft' with James Conrad because at the moment that is a chonky boi with 4k words…and I've only just gotten to the smutty bits.

Translations: Fullkomlighet – Perfection Du känner dig som himlen. – You feel like Heaven min kärlek – my love

And here's a gif for everyone that reads to the end:

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog

Kinktober taglist: @azula-karai-27

#magnus martinsson x reader #magnus martinsson x female reader #magnus martinsson smut #wallander #wallander fanfiction #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #muddyorbs writes

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galedekarios · 4 months

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trying to distract myself by writing another meta post (delving more into the relationship gale and mystra had in early access and how it's presented within the narrative and canon of the game) and re-reading gale's ea dialogue (with the added hindsight of the full release version + epilogue) and once again i'm left like

[excerpt from the early access tadpole dreams] Gale: I... why, yes. Clearly the tadpole isn't the only one who can read me like a book. It's indeed Mystra I see. And yet it cannot be her. There was a time when I would have believed - but no longer. I told you that I lost her. Lost her favour and lost so many of the powers I took for granted. What magic I can still weave is met only with undercurrents of disappointing silence.

[excerpt from the early access weave scene] Gale: Magic is... my life. I’ve been in touch with the Weave for as long as I can remember. There’s nothing like it. It’s like music, poetry, physical beauty all rolled into one and given expression through the senses. Player: I didn't realise the depth of your devotion. You sound like a smitten school boy. Gale: It’s a kind of love after all.

[excerpt from the early access post tiefling party romance scene] Gale: Once upon a time, not quite that long ago, there lived a wizard in a tower. The wizard was what one might call a prodigy, who from an early age could not only control the Weave, but compose it, like a musician or a poet. Such was his skill that it earned him the attention of the mother of magic herself. The Lady Of Mysteries, Mystra. Player: What did Mystra’s attention feel like? Gale: Love. Player: He sounds like a very talented individual. Gale: He was. Even though it was in Mystra’s affections that his true power lay. Player: Teacher’s pet, was he? Gale: He fancied himself much more than that. He fancied himself favoured above all others. Perhaps it was not quite love, but you see, the wizard was but a very young man. It was most certainly love to him. Mystra showed him the secrets behind the veils. The gossamer veils first, draped across the Weave. The delicate veils next, draped across her body. ‘Chosen One’ she whispered, as she slipped them off completely.

[excerpt from the early access post goblin party scene] Gale: What can I say? She considered me a Chosen One. Little did I know how ephemeral that title was. Before long Mystra tired of me. Gale: What was I after all but a mortal plaything in sacred hands?

and on and on it goes.

fragments of this are still an underlying current to many of gale's dialogues in full release and are still there somewhat present - with new things still added in the epilogue, like elminster, another of mystra's chosen seeking out / meeting gale when he was about eight years old - but... early access certainly paints a vivid picture.

#not tagging this as of yet because i have to order my thoughts more to make an actual meta post out of it but #yeah #ch: gale dekarios #ch: mystra #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #grooming cw #abuse cw

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jasntodds · 11 months

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Petrichor [4]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader (little bit of fwb)

Words: 20,748

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, smut (wrap it before ya tap it!), a little bit of angst, mentions of scars, blood, bruises, reader gets a suit but the fit of it isn’t described just the colors (yes, it’s like Steph’s suit because it’s my favorite of the bats)

Summary: ❝Pylades: I’ll take care of you. Orestes: It’s rotten work. Pylades: Not to me. Not if it’s you.❞

Gotham is home, not just for Jason but for you, too. And now that you’re both finally back home, together, you’re ready to see where this next chapter brings the two of you. He’s your best friend and you’re his. And you both might want a little something more with being back home, the place you both feel most comfortable. Surely, nothing could possibly go wrong now.

A/N: So, I combined chapters 4 and 5 and this was over 25k words. Google Docs was lagging so hard I couldn’t finish editing on mobile. It was an ordeal lmao I’m so sorry. I hope you guys like it!! If you want context from book 1, let me know and I’ll tell you!! You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

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Over the next week, you and Jason continue your new dynamic. It’s fun for the both of you and it feels safe. Neither of you feel too much pressure with each other and you’re both really happy. It always starts with your game and then one of you makes the move. That’s usually who wins and it’s fun.

Now, you’re sitting in the kitchen on one of the laptops reading through a Reddit thread about the Titans. Steam is practically coming out of you ears as Jason walks in.

“You good?” Jason chuckles, seeing you look like you want to chuck the laptop out a window.

“Look at this!” You yell, pointing at the laptop screen that shows a Reddit that’s discussing the vigilante names of the Titans.

“What the fuck am I looking at?” Jason chuckles, his hand resting on the back of your chair and the other hand on the counter as he leans in.

“Acid Fingers!” You fume, pointing dramatically at the screen.

Jason bursts into a fit of laughter. “That you?” He glances at you and he knows this is going to be fun.

“I guess!” You yell, your hands flying above your head.

Jason shakes his head, looking through more of the names and they just keep more ridiculous. He’s taking a mental note of every name to call you the next time you make fun of him being Robin.

“Melty Hands?” Jason continues to chuckle, this is ridiculous.

“Glow girl!” You get more dramatic. “Who the fuck is Freddy Freeman and how can I kill him?!”

Jason looks at you and you’re so mad but he swears you’re endearing. “I think it’s great.” Jason lets his laugh subside.

You snap your neck at him, eyes wide, steam nearly coming out of your ears. “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN YOU THINK IT’S GREAT?!?!?! YOU GOT BEASTBOY, SUPERBOY, NIGHTWING, STARFIRE, AND FUCKING ACID FINGERS?!?!?!?!!? WHAT THE FUCK.”

He thinks it’s funny how annoyed you are by it. It’s not even a big deal given you’re not actually a Titan at this current point in time and he has a vivid memory of you saying you don’t even like vigilante names from last week. And the only thing he wants to do is kiss the scowl off your face.

“Acid Fingers is a great one.” Jason tilts his head back, unable to control his laughing.

“I’m gonna hunt this little shit down. Acid Fingers.” You let out a scoff.

“I like it.” Jason says through a laugh. “I’m calling you that, now.”

“Don't you fucking dare, Jason Todd!”

Jason’s voice drops, his face coming closer to yours as he goes to taunt you. “What are you gonna do about it, Acid Fingers?”

You look back at him and the annoyance of the whole thing almost melts away because he looks at you like that, eyes darting to your lips and soft and nothing else even matters. But then he would win.

“You’re named after a fucking bird. And you don’t even look like a robin! You look more like a parrot.”

Jason’s brows furrow but he keeps his stance close to you. “A parrot?” Jason chortles.

“Red, green, black, yellow. Parrot. Robins are not that colorful.” You snark and Jason can see you trying desperately not to let a smirk come to your lips.

“Still better than, acid fingers. Could have called you Sulfar, Nitric, Bombardier, Scorpian!” Jason says enthusiastically. “Cobra could work, I guess, but that doesn’t fit, I don’t think.” He nods his head just once, his brows are just slightly knitted together.

You blink at him. “I’m actually gonna kill you.” Your words are softer this time, holding no venom with the hollow threat.

“You can try, Acid Fingers.”

“Jason Todd, so fucking help me.” You let out a groan and you knows he will never let this go.

“What’re you gonna do about it, babe?”

“You’re such a brat.” You state softly.

Jason’s laugh bellows through the kitchen as he leans up with the laugh. Bruce peaks in to see what the yelling is about but he just sees Jason laughing hysterically, happier than Bruce has ever seen him before. You look like you’re about to actually commit mass murder but Bruce catches the hint of smile on your face as you watch Jason laugh. Bruce smiles to himself before walking off and leaving the two of you to yourselves.

“I’m gonna tell this little shit--” You start, turning back to the laptop.

“Okay,” Jason cuts you off, yanking your laptop away from you and closing it. “He’s probably like twelve.” Jason laughs. “And you don’t even like the name thing so, Acid Fingers, get a grip.”

“It’s so stupid.” You whine before it turns into a laugh. “It’s so dumb!”

“Hey, I’m a bird and Dick still fucking chose Nightwing, kept the bird thing going. All of the bat stuff is called bat-something.” Jason chortles and he’s got a devious smirk.

“It’s all so dumb.” You get tears from laughing.

“I think Dick actually named most of the stuff. He named the batcomputer.” Jason explains.

“OH, but I call you guys Batsons and I don’t even get a laugh.” You roll your eyes.

“You called us Batsons?”

“Yeah! Are you not the sons of Batman?”

“I guess.” Jason mocks you.

“Shut the fuck up, Jaybird.” You groan, tilting your head back.

Jason can’t stop the laugh that escapes his mouth with the nickname. “Better than shithead, brat, and Acid Fingers.” Jason gives you a wild grin and all you can do is groan. “Come on, get up.” Jason offers you his free hand while you reach for the laptop. “No, enough internet for you today, fucking nerd. I want you to meet someone today.”

“You have friends?” You quip and Jason’s jaw drops as he narrows his eyes at you. “And don’t say me or Gar.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Jason laughs. “I have more friends than you do!” You go to open your mouth but Jason goes first. “Don’t say me or Gar.”

“Don’t say me or Gar.” You mutter under your breath, mocking him. “Okay, Krypto.”

“Krypto is a dog, he doesn’t fucking count!” Jason’s eyes widen and that’s something he really likes about you. Considering Krypto as a friend.

“I’m telling him you said that. You’re gonna hurt his feelings, you’re a monster!” You yell dramatically, placing your hand over your heart.

“You're so dramatic!” Jason doesn’t remember a time he laughed this much with anyone.

“You wear a cape and put black eye shadow around your entire eye socket.” You deadpan, blinking at him.

“You were a cape and put black eye shadow around your entire eye socket.” Jason makes a face, mocking you as he mutters under his breath. You let out a laugh and you adore him. “Come on, Acid Fingers.”

“See, dramatic.” You point a finger at him, a cocky smile on your lips.

There are bubbles exploding through his veins as you look at him with big eyes and that smile that could set the world on fire. He doesn’t know what that feeling is but he wants to chase it as fast and as long as he can.

“Come on, seriously. I think you’ll like her.”

“Her?” You raise a brow at him and you hate the way you find your stomach twist at the thought. You’re his friend, too and look where you are right now.

“Jealous?” Jason quips and maybe he's hoping you will be.

You almost say yes but if you’re both just messing around, that’s not very fair. But, he’s taunting you again and he always does that. You spend nearly all your time together so you take another route.

“Should I be?” You quip with confidence and you’re so sure that he’s yours even if your stomach fills with the warmth of green at the mention of a friend that’s a girl.

Jason shrugs because it’s the easiest answer in the world. “Nope.”

“Fine.” You take his hand in yours, getting to your feet. “Where we going?”

“For coffee in the city. Trust me, I think you’ll like her and you need more friends.”

“Aw, but this is so fun.” You scrunch your nose. “I’m kind of an asshole.”

“Have you met me?” Jason gestures to himself with the arm holding the laptop. “She won’t care. If she can tolerate my shit, she can tolerate yours.” Jason rests the laptop on the counter, you going to grab it but Jason yanks you back, pulling you against him. “Seriously?”

“No.” You shake your head, getting a grin before sliding your free hand up to his neck. “Knew you’d do that.” You pull him into you and kiss him deeply. You can feel Jason relax under your touch as you nip at his bottom, Jason groaning against you. When you pull away, his smile is soft and you’ve got that grin that makes Jason’s head spin. “See, I can plan ahead.”

“Alright.” Jason’s voice is breathless as he recovers. “Fuck off.”

“Taking the bike?”

“Always.” Jason chuckles. “Come on.” Jason pulls you along with him, his hand tangled with yours. “We’ll be back.” Jason peaks into the living room, giving Bruce a nod.

“Bye, Bruce!” You smile softly at him.

“Be careful,” Bruce states as the two of you head off.

"Okay, trust me, I think you'll like her." Jason beams, hands in the pockets of his pants as you walk the short distance to the door of a local coffee shop.

He's been friends with Molly for almost two years. Similar to you, Molly doesn't really take his shit but she lets him do his thing, she lets him be. She doesn't know everything but she's always been a good friend to him. Molly was the first person Jason even really considered a close friend. And introducing you to Molly, sure, is so you can have another friend because he believes wholeheartedly you'll get along. But, it's also another introduction to things that are his. Into his world. He doesn't have many friends, but he has Molly.

"Dunno, last girl I tried to be friends with, I punched her in the face." You chortle, watching as Jason grabs the handle of the door.

"Aren't you two good now?" He shakes his head in confusion,

"Yeah," You laugh and you can feel the nerves trickling into your throat. Meeting new people isn't always the most comfortable thing in the world. "I'm just saying though, that happened."

"Well, don't punch this one in the face, alright? She's cool, I swear." Jason assures you. "She also doesn't know about the whole Robin and Batman and Titans shit so don't say shit about that." Jason warns quietly, whispering in your ear before he opens the door.

"Yeah, figured that." You nod softly.

Jason holds the door open for you as you walk inside and he follows right behind you. You look around the coffee shop as Jason joins you at your side and then your eyes land on someone familiar sitting at a table alone near the windows. Your eyes widen as your stomach drops because it's Gotham sure but Gotham is a big enough city. Hell, you and Jason did have some overlap being homeless and you never crossed paths. But, this still seems so bizarre and you find it hard to believe.

The girl looks up from her phone, spotting Jason first and offers him a wide smile. But, then her eyes land on you beside him and her eyes go wide, the smile falling. Jason glances between the two of you, growing more confused by the second.

"Molly?" You nearly yell as you ignore Jason beside you.

“Y/n?” Molly gets up and starts the walk over to the both of you.

You meet Molly in the middle, your steps slow and you can't believe it's Molly. Your heart thunders in your ears as your eyes start to water. Molly pulls you into a hug as you meet in the middle and it's a piece home back in place for you. A part of you thought, maybe, you’d never see her again. Maybe you'd make the effort to never be seen again because that would easier than explaining everything but Molly hugs you and that would have been a bad decision.

"You know each other?" Jason questions as the two of you pull away.

"You know Jason?!" You and Molly question at the same time, looking to the boy who looks more confused than he has ever looked in his life.

"You first." You say.

"One of the shelters. My mom died not long after you took off. How about you?" Molly asks as she glances between the two of you, silently putting a few pieces together.

"Uhhh..." You look to Jason, realizing that explaining your story to someone you actually know makes the whole lying thing a little more difficult. Molly knows your tells. "It's a long story but San Francisco. He got Bruce to let me stay with them."

"Well, okay." Molly laughs, her eyes landing on you. "I've missed you." Molly's eyes grow teary.

You nod, the feeling in your chest growing heavy. "Me too. I'm....I'm so sorry about your mom. I-I should--"

"No, no, it's okay. You were processing yourself, it's okay. I tried to find you."

The guilt comes back, gnawing at your bones because you actively chose to be alone. It was your decision and you never had to leave Molly. Maybe had you just stuck it out, maybe you could have stayed. Her mom was like a second mom and maybe you and Molly could have worked something out. Then Molly wouldn't have been alone. You should have known. Social media is a thing.

"And you found Jason instead." You glance to him. "I am so sorry." You laugh.

"Fuck you." Jason groans but it turns into more of a laugh. "So, this is the friend you talked about in San Francisco?" Jason asks.

"Yeah." You nod.

"And she’s the friend that ran away?" Jason pieces everything together and he doesn't know how he didn't figure that out.

"Are you surprised?" Molly quips, looking back at you.

Jason lets out a laugh but his attention is only on you. "No, she does run."

"So do you." Your eyes widen as you snap your attention to Jason.

"Well, I got us a table." Molly gestures back to her spot.

The three of you make your way to Molly's table. Jason and you sit side by side while Molly sits across from you. It does not go unnoticed the way Jason pulled out your chair and the way you watched him until he sat down, almost subconsciously.

Molly raises a brow at the two of you. "Are you two...like?"

Both of you look like deer in headlights with the question. That question was a lot easier to answer a week ago but today it feels a little more complicated. Despite your agreement to keep this whole friends with benefits thing between the two of you, you both do not want to say no. But, you aren't together and you are friends so saying anything other than no, would be a lie.

"No." Jason lets out a breath, and he hates the bitter taste of the word. "She's just using me for a roof." Jason finds himself able to quip and he intentionally keeps his attention on Molly.

It stings, just a little but not because it's not true. But because you want to explain what you are to Molly. You want to brag about him.

"You literally offered. I was gonna just live on the streets." You quip back, holding your head high.

"Well, I wasn't gonna let you." Jason scoffs.

"No, we're friends. I just like to fuck with him." You look back to Molly and Molly swears there's something there. But, she brushes it off because she hasn't seen you in a long time and maybe that's all it is.

"Oh, so that hasn't changed." Molly laughs softly.

Molly and you get talking, catching up. You mostly ask about Molly to avoid talking about yourself. But, Molly has always been the mom friend. The caretaker of the two of you. You’ve never been one to want to talk about yourself, but you’re quieter than normal. You were living in San Francisco. There's a story there and you seem happy yet you aren't saying much. Maybe you’ve changed more than Molly thinks you have but it seems weird.

"Okay, that's enough about me. Tell me about you." Molly takes a sip of her coffee and you nearly stiffen in your seat. "What happened?"

Your voice sticks in the back of your throat and Jason actively sees your eyes go distant. Talking about the stuff with him is easy, he didn't know you before. There's no worry of disappointing him. None of this was your fault, but a part of you thinks telling Molly, will make Molly disappointed. Gar reminded you of Molly. Too kind for the world. Gives that look when something bad happens that you hate so much. And you tug down the sleeves of your hoodie. Jason rests a hand on your knee under the table, you looking back at him as if it snaps you out of your haunting thoughts. He offers you a grin and then a subtle shrug.

"Uh..." You shake your head. "I was, uh, I-I was living with this guy, foster care, and he moved us to San Francisco." You nod your head, trying to find a way to lie. "Uh, he was kind of down and out. He had something wrong with him." You roll your eyes, knowing that's an easy way to put it and then you come up with the lie. "He wasn't in any place to, uh, to care for anyone. I guess, so he called this guy he knew which was Dick and that's how I ended up meeting Jason. Dick already took him in so, ya know, that's kind of it, I guess."

Molly nods her head and she always knows when you’re lying. You have a bad poker face. And Jason can see Molly wanting to ask more questions, so he interjects, squeezing your knee before placing his hand on the table.

"Yeah, Dick wasn't so bad. If foster parents or shit got overwhelmed or financial shit came up, he'd offer a place. Wasn't all bad." Jason shakes his head and you swear he's the best person you’ve ever met. He's also a better liar.

Molly's brows furrow and she can't tell when Jason lies. He's better at it. "So, Bruce sent you to live with him and then you happened to get sent there, too?"

"Yeah, Dick was adopted by Bruce." Jason states. "So, kind of fit. Dick picked her up like a month later."

"Yeah, he just brought me back and Jason has been up my ass ever since." You send him a smirk before offering him a thankful nod and a nudge with your knee.

"He get you into trouble, too?" Molly asks, a teasing smile coming to her face.

"I didn't get you into that much trouble." Jason defends with a laugh.

"How many times were we chased by the cops?" Molly quips.

"Oh, there's a story there, share." You beam.

"He was teaching me how to get the hubcaps off cars." Molly's eyes widen slightly as if to be taunting Jason.

"Fucking hubcaps." You grit your teeth as you let out a sigh.

Jason lets out a booming laugh. "And she didn't get fucking caught, did you, Molly?"

"You got caught robbing cars?" Molly asks.

"Look, I tripped and the pavement was wet, okay? It's the city's fault!" You laugh.

"The city's fault," Molly repeats with the shake of her head.

"And hey, she got me into trouble." Jason lets out a huff and you glare at him. "You told me to turn Dick blue! Or that time we were eavesdropping but I was doing it to make fun of you and Rachel was giving me a death glare for fucking two days when she caught us. That time you got me to try and sneak out after Dick enforced a curfew just so we could go to a midnight premiere of a movie!" Jason shrugs his arm over the back of his chair as he faces you.

You beam as you laugh because getting him in trouble with Dick is one of your favorite pastimes. He makes it so easy. "Okay and what about the Nerf war you started and Dick nailed all of us later that night? Or that time you said it would be funny to change all of the passcodes to fucking 42069 or when it was your idea to bookmark the weirdest out-of-context shit we could think of on all the shared electronics? And turning Dick blue, was technically your idea, I just told you to do it."

"What...what did you bookmark?" Molly asks hesitantly.

Jason gains a smirk, snickering it himself. "Use your imagination."

"It was not porn." You assure her. "We just wanted Dick to have some serious questions and boy did he."

"See, it was fun." Jason defends his stance.

"You ever do that to Bruce?" You questions.

"Oh, I did bookmark porn." Jason cackles while Molly groans and you let out a scoff.

"Of course you did." Molly nods her head.

The conversation continues, Jason and you bouncing back and forth with stories, almost all of them about harassing Dick. But you both tell stories about Gar and Rachel, too. Movie nights and video games. Molly is attentive and the entire time, she grows more confused about your dynamic. Molly's known Jason long enough now and she deems them fairly close but she's never seen him like this before. Not with anyone. And Molly remembers how you were and this is new, too. She isn't going to badger either of you but she definitely takes notice in how Jason's hand keeps dodging under the table every so often and you look at him every single time.

"Here." Molly hands over her phone over to you. "Put in your number."

You take the phone with gentle hands, typing away and then Molly gets a glimpse at the fading ligature scars as your sleeves fall down. Molly looks directly at Jason and he just shakes his head quickly, silently pleading with her not to bring it up. You're having a good time. If Molly brings it up, Jason knows you will shut down as you fumble for another lie. He doesn't want this exchange to go that way. You're long-lost friends and you will tell her in your own time but now is clearly not when you want to discuss any of it. And Molly accepts the plea.

"Here.” You smile softly, handing the phone back to Molly.

"I’ll text you." Molly nods softly and she swallows her questions.

"Well, we should probably head out. Bruce has a thing for us later." Jason clears his throat, standing from his seat.

You look at your phone and know it's because Jason will want to get a sparring session in before he goes on patrol. "Forgot about that." You stand with Jason while Molly follows suit.

The two of you hug quickly, saying your goodbyes before Jason and you head for the door.

He didn't know Molly was your friend. You went through your social media and archived those posts before Jason followed you. It was easier that way, you told yourself. It's why you also soft-blocked her because while you wanted to reach out, the idea of doing so and her knowing you were alive somewhere was terrifying. You were terrified she'd be mad, never forgive you for it. That's not Molly but it was scary anyway. So, Jason didn't know. But, you find yourself eternally grateful anyway. And you think he's the only one who would have noticed your apprehension about talking.

Jason and you get to the bike. Jason gets on first while you stand off to the side. Jason is ready to go but you’re still watching him, your helmet on your hip. You’re looking at him and sometimes, you give him this stare where Jason thinks you might be able to see through him. Like, maybe you can see every thought that passes through his head. It almost makes him want to push. Just almost because he can never decipher exactly what the look means.

"What? Not getting on?" Jason asks, securing his helmet on his head.

"Thank you." You let out a breath. "You didn't have to cover for me."

Jason shrugs his shoulders and he knows the look isn't one of thanks because you don't get it every time he does something for you. That's not it either. "'Know you don't like talking about that shit. And you clearly didn't want to."

He wishes he had someone that would cover for him because sometimes, giving the same damn spiel about his mom and dad and uncle just gets a little tiring. That's why he always handles it nonchalantly. Not having to air out dirty laundry and baggage is a privilege and Jason thinks you should have that privilege, even if it's just for today.

"Yeah, but thanks. I don't think anyone would have been as quick as you were about it."

Jason nods his head. "Hey, look, I'm just glad you got your friend back." He'll always cover for you if you want him to.

"Yeah, now I have you, Gar, Molly, and Krypto." Your smile is so bright Jason thinks it could light up all of Gotham.

"He's still a dog." Jason quips back.

"He's still the bestest boy out of all of you." You hold your head up high, popping your helmet on your head.

"If you fucking call me the bestest boy, I will stop fucking talking to you."

"Awwww, you seem the type to have a praise kink though." You quip, getting on the back as Jason lets out a scoff, his words nearly lodging in his throat.

"Not according to my notes from last night." Jason chuckles. "That'd be you." He turns his head to look back at you and he's thankful for the helmet hiding the burning of his cheeks.

You slide your face shield down. "Oh, so you're taking notes?"

Jason nearly chokes on his own laugh. "Fuck off. You ready?"

"I guess." You mock him, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist.

Back at Wayne Manor, the two of you change into athletic wear and meet in the training room. You spar as per usual. Jason beats you every time. But you’re getting better. Every time you spar, Jason finds himself impressed because you pick up a lot on what he does and then mimic it. It's not helping you in sparring him, but he's completely confident it will help you in any real fight with anyone else. It's smart.

After your showers, Jason starts food for the both of them. You help as much as Jason will let you. This is his element and you find it endearing. You watch him and listen when he tells the story of how Alfred taught him. He's so airy about it, enthusiastic, and a little sad. He didn't know Alfred very long before he died but he clearly meant a lot to Jason. And you think you could listen to him all night if he'll keep talking.

Once dinner is done, you, Jason, and Bruce eat together. You and Jason mostly talk about meeting up with Molly and Jason learning from Alfred because he decided to bake cookies at four in the morning and woke him up. It's actually the first time you’re seeing Bruce in this light and for the first time, you kind of understand Jason's view of him. Just kind of. He doesn't seem so bad.

After dinner, you and Jason do the dishes. Jason washes while you dry. Jason glances over to you every so often and some of this almost makes him feel uneasy. It's easy with you and it feels normal but easy and normal aren't things he normally gets to experience. He's a vigilante superhero. That's not normal or easy but this feels that way with you. Cooking dinner, doing the dishes. He wonders if this will always be like this. Just him and you doing the dishes before patrol. And he gets this small hint of a smile at the thought of it because he almost has a feeling of security in thinking about the future with you.

And then you snap him from his thoughts, picking up your leg and bending your knee to kick him in the butt. Your laugh reverberates against the walls and Jason's heart skips at the sound. And he has to laugh with you, splashing the soapy water at you.

"Fuck you." Jason chortles, his nose scrunching.

"Time and place, Jay." You beam up at him and Jason gains his signature smirk, licking his lips.

"Got time before patrol." Jason states.

"Don't wanna wear you out." You quip as Jason hands you the last plate.

"Like to see you try, babe.” Jason wiggles his brows while your cheeks start to burn. “Hey," Jason shakes his head. "You wanna see if you can come out with us tonight?" Jason asks.

He's been wanting to ask all week. You’ve seemed to be enjoying your break away from being a vigilante and Jason doesn't really understand that part of you. But you did say you'd want to get back out there. He figures maybe tonight could be the night.

"Why? You want me to come?" You flash him a grin as he dries his hands and tosses the towel to the side.

Jason looks up with his eyes, a smirk dancing over his lips. "Maybe."

You shake your head, resting the dry plate to the side as you turn around, leaning your back against the counter. "Maybe another time, bring it up to Bruce." You smirk at him and you are wanting to get back out there. It's only been a few weeks but you miss it. That night with Jason, last week was so fun, sure, Bruce will be there. But it's something and you get can back to feeling useful if Bruce will let you.

"Yeah?" Jason's heart jumps to his throat and wants to reach and grab your waist.

"Yeah, kicking ass with you is fun." You give him a wild smile and he thinks he's going to combust.

"Alright, I'll ask." Jason nods his head and you get the sight a sheepish but accomplished smile on his lips. He's just so damn cute. "Wanna check out the Batcave before we have to get ready?"

"Uh, yeah." You state quickly. "Finally."

Jason takes your hand in his and leads you to the grandfather clock in the living room. Jason changes the time on the clock making the grandfather clock slide across the floor, leading into a stone hallway. You find that to be a weird point of access but it is hidden and kind of cool. You'll give Bruce that.

On the walk through the cave, going deeper under the house, Jason gives you a rundown of the rules. No joyrides in the Batmobile, don't tell anyone or show anyone. Simple rules that you already figured but Jason was told to make sure to go over them even though Jason knows Bruce will later anyway.

"This is it." Jason stretches his arms out as you enter the Batcave, passing by some tech and a hallway where you can see the Batmobile sitting.

It really is a cave. You aren't sure exactly what you expected, but you didn't think the cave thing was literal. And yet. Here you are, standing in a massive cave under Wayne Manor. There are things from the Riddler, Scarecrow, Mr. Freeze, and several other of Gotham's most notorious almost on display throughout the cave. You spot a dinosaur off to the side and you almost ask. You almost ask what the fuck but decide it's probably better you don't know why Bruce has a T-rex in the Batcave.

"It's literally a cave under his house." You state in awe as you reach one of the display cases that holds the Robin suit.

"Yeah." Jason chuckles, looking to his shoes and back to you. "Bats and caves go hand in hand."

"I guess." You laugh softly as you eye the Robin suit. "Your suit always like this?"

"Yeah." Jason nods his head. "Only comes out when we're out or when I'm traveling. Bruce's in another case hidden away." Jason explains.

"Interesting." You nod your head. It's weird seeing it on display but now you get the display room back at the tower. It was a Bruce thing. "And the batcomputer?" You ask, turning around to see a giant computer sitting in the middle of the room.

"Yeah, that's where a lot of it goes down. Researching, tracking those freaks down." Jason boasts and he does love this gig.

You think he's cute when he talks about it. His entire face lights up every single time. It means the entire world to him. And you wonder why, if it's more than just him wanting to be helpful and wanting to feel useful. But, you decide maybe she won't ask.

"This is so sick," You beam back at him. "Batman whatever, but this shit is cool." You’re amazed, looking around. You never thought you'd be in the actual Batcave at any point in your life.

"Right?" Jason agrees, leaning his lower back against the desk under the computer screens.

You walk up to him and stand right in front of him, Jason eying you carefully. It's as if every day, he shows you something new and you like him that much more. You see parts of him no one else is ever allowed to and you’re seeing the Batcave which might be Bruce's but it's Jason's, too. And you like that this is how it is. You like where you are and how you are. You like him, all of him. But you look at him with a satisfied and happy grin as you look around the Batcave and the dangers of it all settle into the marrow of your bones.

You all lost Donna. You know already. But seeing the Batcave is another reminder of what he does as Robin. No powers. Just human doing his best out there to help people. And that part scares you. Worried he won't come home one day. So, you close the distance between you and swear you won't ever tell him that.

You smirk, instead, Jason's eyes darting you up and down. "What's up?" Jason nods his head, his hands still gripping the desk under him.

You shrug, cupping his face before you press your lips to his. It sucks the breath right out of him and he doesn't miss a beat, bringing his hands to your hips and yanking you as close to him as possible. Your mouths intertwine into one and Jason lives for this. It's the not talking shit that you do. It’s the way you can kiss him now and know that's it.

You kiss and then sometimes more happens, or sometimes this is all it is. And that works for him because he's allowed to like you from this distance. He's allowed to let his heart and his blood adjust to the idea of it. To the idea of trusting another person like this. It allows him time to be careful with himself and with you. He can be sure you won't hurt each other like this. And he loves the way your mouth moves with his.

You pull away, your hands lightly gliding over his shoulders. "Don't do anything fucking stupid tonight, Jay." There's a flicker of worry that crosses your eyes, for just a split second and Jason can see it.

Jason squeezes your hips, a sign of reassurance. "Of course not." Jason chuckles. "Got a plan."

"Mhm." You hum. "Always got a plan."

"Always, babe." Jason furrows his brows, letting a smirk come to his lips. "Don't worry so much.".

You shrug a shoulder. "Someone has to."

Jason laughs softly, squeezing your hips again. "I'll be fine." Jason moves his hand to your chin moving your face closer to his again. "I got it." His voice goes a little graveled before he kisses you again.

Jason and Bruce get ready to leave not long after Jason and you come back from the Batcave. This leaves you alone in the Manor again. You don't mind it much, but it gives you a little bit more space to think and you were never a huge fan of thinking.

Your mind goes back to the tower that night it was attacked. And you wonder what would happen if someone figured out Bruce was Batman and then attacked the manor. What if it happens when they're not home? What if it's people like CADMUS? Where there's a lot of them and they're strong and you’re outnumbered? What if they want metahumans? The panic starts to set in so you go to your room and lock the door, grabbing a few of your knives.

You place one of the switchblades under your pillow, making sure it's locked before doing so. And then you place another in both of your nightstands, making sure there's always one around. Then you hide one on top of the fireplace in the middle of the room, just in case. When you’re done, you sit down with a knife in hand and pull out your phone.

You call Gar who, naturally answers after only a few rings. You talk every day still so you calling didn't send up any red flags. You kick off the conversation by asking how things are going and what he's up to. Gar asks the same back and you just say you’re kind of freaked yourself out a little and you’re trying to be honest about it. You know you’re just being paranoid but you’re freaked out anyway. So, Gar offers to stay on the phone with you until the Titans have to leave.

You keep in touch with the Titans regularly. Dick and Kory check in with you every so often to make sure everything is going okay. It's kind of nice actually. Being across the entire country and still having them on your side. You didn't really expect it but it is nice and you appreciate it. And talking with Gar is helping a little. So, when Gar says he has to go, you finds yourself getting up and grabbing your scrapbooking things before sitting back on the bed and turning on a movie.

It's after three by the time Jason and Bruce get home. You can hear them come in so you get up to unlock and up open your door, assuming Jason will find his way to you once he's changed and showered.

It's less than fifteen later when Jason appears in your doorway. Jason gets a look at you sitting cross-legged on your bed, your scrapbook stuff scattered about your entire bed and a knife sitting just off to the side. His brow quirks at it but he thinks maybe you needed it for something. And he goes back to thinking about you being beautiful and content like this. In your element with a movie on, in pajamas. And he can't help but smile softly.

"Hey." Jason says, keeping his stance. But his voice is a little groggy and he hates the way it sounds.

"How'd it go?" You ask, barely glancing at him to not seem too eager to see him.

But there's silence that follows. Seeing you, it brought him a sense of relief and comfort. A stark contrast to what he's actually feeling right about now. Patrol did not go well. And he can't lie because you'll look over at him fully eventually and call his bluff. So, instead, he hangs his head and lets the silence swallow him hole.

You look over, not liking the silence and your entire face falls at the sight of him You quickly get up from the bed and close the distance between you. It's hard. You've been injured together and you see him with bruises all the time, but it's hard. He's in pain, taking hits and getting hurt. And it hurts to see him beat up and feeling beat up. At least most nights when he comes home with a bruise, he's got that cocky grin and some story about kicking someone's ass. But, that's not the look he's giving you right now and it hurts.

"What the hell happend?" You ask, looking over his face, your hand lightly coming up to cup his jaw.

There's a light red bruise hugging his opposite jaw, a purple bruise starting right under his eye, and, blood is still dripping down the side of his face and his lip. There's a cut on his neck and Bruce was there. How did he even manage to get hurt?

Jason shrugs, a dullness in his usually vibrant eyes. "Did not go to plan." He looks exhausted.

You know he hasn't been sleeping much but this is bad. He looks defeated and you don't understand how he's managing to get so beat up when Bruce is supposed to be beside him. It doesn't make any sense.

"Fucks sake, Jay." You shake your head. "Come on." You reach down for his hand and drag him to the bathroom that sits between your rooms.

Jason takes a seat on the counter directing you to one of the cabinets that has all of the first aid supplies.

Jason's hands are shaking as he tries to calm down, resting them in his lap as he waits. A part of him doesn't even want your help right now. He wants to fight this. Fight everything and everyone around him, it should have been fine tonight. He's done this a million times but then he gets so fucking lost in his head, he loses it. It's not fair. And he's terrified Bruce is gonna catch on and take Robin away. How is he supposed to be Robin if he can't fight crime without getting hurt?

"Are you okay?" You ask, grabbing an alcohol pad to start cleaning the cut on his forehead.

"I'm fine." Jason grits his teeth.

"What happened?" You clean up the blood softly before moving up the cut, Jason barely even flinching with the sting.

"Just some fucking bullshit." The worst part is, he doesn't even know what actually happened. He just knows he paused again and all he can feel through his entire bloodstream is shame.

"That's descriptive," You state, glancing to his face and searching for any sign of anything other than exhaustion but you come up empty.

"It doesn't fucking matter, I fucked up again." Jason's scoff is bitter while you grab another alcohol pad and start cleaning the cut on his neck. Jason hisses in return, scrunching his nose.

"Did you?" You ask, looking to his eyes and then back to the cut.

"Clearly."

"Just because you got hurt doesn't mean you fucked up, Jay." You keep your voice level and calm, knowing this side of him all too well.

"Bruce said I did." Jason mutters and you pull away, tossing the alcohol pad in the trash.

"What do you mean?" Your brows furrow as you grab a gauze pad, lightly holding it to his head to stop the bleeding.

"Didn't listen, went off on this guy before Bruce was ready."

"Okay, so what happened?" You press.

You don't get it. Why would he do that? He's capable but why wouldn't he just listen to Bruce? It's not like this is new to either of them. It doesn't make any sense.

"Doesn't fucking matter." His voice is snippy but defeated and you get a glimpse at his shaky hands.

"Jay, hey, look, I'm worried about you, okay?" You eye him carefully deciding not to ask why he would do that. He's beating himself enough without you badgering him about his decision-making. "Your hands are still shaking." You offer a subtle nod, placing your free hand on top of his.

"Just an adrenaline dump." Jason brushes it off. He doesn't need you disappointed and worrying too much.

"Are you sure?" You aren't buying it. His hands shook like this after Deathstroke.

"Yeah, I'm fucking fine, alright? It's just bullshit, should have had him and I don't know. I don't know what happened."

It's not you. It'll never be you that's the problem but he can't stand the way he can't do anything anymore without being paralyzed with fear. And he hates how he can feel the burning in the back of his eyes because it's like he's losing his ability to be good at the one thing he always felt good enough for. Robin. And who he is if he can't do that anymore? And he’s just so damn mad at himself.

You nod softly. "Okay, well, if you're not, you can tell me. I won't tell Bruce." You try your best to reason with him.

You’re worried. And when he looks like this, every part of you wants to fight the entire universe for him. All you want is to make it all go away for him. And you just want him to be okay again.

Jason thinks about telling you. You won't judge him or be mad like Bruce. You'll nod and tell him it's not his fault. But he can't do that to you because he knows you worry about him. You’ve never kissed him before patrol before. He's not that dense.

"I'm fine, I don't know what happened, really." Jason urges and he gains a smile, placing his hand over yours that's holding the gauze. "Don't worry so fucking much."

"I'm always gonna worry about you, Jay," You roll your eyes and grab the butterfly stitches. And you pause for a second, sucking in a breath and decide to bite down your question. But Jason can see it picking at you as you go to place the stitches.

"What?" Jason questions, looking up at you.

You shake your head and you want to ask him if he's ever thought about taking a break to take care of himself but you think maybe he'll take it the wrong way right now. He's beating himself up enough and asking that now is going to make it worse. But, you help but can't worry about him and there's something off. You can see it across his face.

"I want to ask you something but I think you're gonna take it the wrong way and push me away." You state, keeping your stare on the cut.

He's looking up at you, watching as his heart stops in his chest. He doesn't want to push you away but if it's a question you’re worried about, he knows he's not going to like it. Maybe he will push. And that's not very fair to you.

"I won't." Jason states, letting a breath fall harshly into the air.

"Promise? Because I don't mean anything by it." You tread lightly and you know him. You’re going to ask and he's going to get mad.

"Okay." Jason’s voice is flat.

You place the final stitch before you make eye contact with him and place your hand over his in his lap. They're cold and Jason's hands are never cold.

"Have....have you thought...about taking a break from Robin?"

Jason feels his stomach fall a hundred stories. His heart stutters and everything feels cold. How could you possibly ask him that? Just because a break works for you, doesn't mean it'll work for him. You know how much Robin means to him and you’re asking him anyway. How can you ask that of him?

"You don't want me to be Robin?!" Jason barks, his brows pulling into a harsh line and you knew he'd take it the wrong way.

"No." You shake your head. "That's not what I'm saying. I'm just--"

"What?! Bruce thought I needed a fucking break!" Jason pulls his hands from yours and you take a step back. "Dick wouldn't fucking let me and look where that lead us! Taking a fucking break doesn't do fucking shit!"

"Hey, no, that's not what I'm saying, Jay. They forced a break onto you!" You yell back. "I mean you, have you thought about taking a break for you? On your own terms. Not for them. Fuck them. You know damn well I am on your side 100% of the time."

"But you're asking! You don't think I'm good enough for--"

"Shut up." You cut him off. "Don't put that shit on me because I didn't say anything. I asked you a question. Don't try and read between lines that aren't there. I am asking you because I am worried and I know you don't like it but that's just too damn bad, Jay. You ARE good enough. I'm taking a break and what? Do you think I'm not good enough for it?"

Jason pauses. "No...you are." Jason scoffs. "But I didn't fucking ask you to!"

"I know! And I'm not asking you to." You shake your head. "I don't even know if I think you need a break, but if I did, I still would never ask you to take a break. It's not my place to ask that of you. I--" You feel your heart skip and you are terrified of losing him. That's what this whole thing boils down to. You can't lose him. "I just..."

"What?" Jason asks but this time, he lacks some of the venom, getting the sense something's going on.

"I...I just..." You stutter because you have so much to say and none of the words will come out. They stick to your vocal cords as if it's a lifeline to everything you’ve come to adore over the last few months. "You....you go out every night with Bruce and...." The lump grows in your throat as your brows furrow and Jason feels the guilt seep into his blood. Maybe your question wasn't about him. "I don't know." You shake your head. "You're human, ya know? No powers and...I know that, obviously. Deathstroke and shit but uh...I don't know."

"What?" Jason pushes and there's a fear that creeps into his voice.

You almost tell him you’re worried about him not coming home. You almost tell him that if he goes out one night and doesn't come home, you'd lose it entirely. You almost tell him he's it for you. But, none of those words make their way to the surface because what you two are is fun and what you are isn't too pressured and what you are allows you both to exist in a simple bubble. What you are allows you both a safe distance from pain.

Jason thinks this is gonna be it. This is gonna be where you finally say the words and it changes everything. He's not ready to commit to it. It still scares the ever-living shit out of him and he also knows that turning you down again would be miserable. To go back to being just friends? Nothing else? That is agonizing. So, he sits nearly paralyzed, waiting to see where this going.

"I'm just worried about you, Jay." You stick to your usual form of concern and Jason can't figure out why his heart just fell into the pit of his stomach.

Jason lets out a breath that’s almost painful. He needs a way to reassure you that he’s fine. But, he swears that’s going to be harder than it should be. You see through every piece of bullshit he’s thrown at you. But, he has to try anyway because Jason has to believe he’ll be fine and that he’s just a little off. It’ll all be fine in the end. He just needs a little more time.

"Don't worry so much." Jason states and extends his arm out for you. You close the distance between you, standing between his legs. "I'm fine, alright? You don't have shit to worry about. I'm just a little off my game. It's not a thing."

You rest your forehead against his and Jason lets out a relieved breath. "I, um...." You pause for a second. "Just really care about you. Not sure what I would do if I lost you, ya know?"

He has never had anyone so afraid of losing him before. It's foreign. He doesn't know how to process it or what to do with it. He can't stop being a vigilante and deep down, he knows you would never ask him to stop and he doesn't even really believe you want him to. But, you make valid points and he also knows that if it were you coming like he does, he'd be worried, too.

Jason pulls away, cupping your face with is hands. "You're not gonna lose me, alright?" Jason gets a cheeky grin. "I'm fine."

He wants to push and run and flee. He wants to get the hell away from this conversation. It's the exposure of being a little vulnerable. Before, he could get used to it but now you both have that added layer of benefits and you’re saying you’re terrified of him dying and he feels so exposed.

Sun exposure can lead to skin cancer. Smoke exposure can lead to lung cancer, COPD, and smoke inhalation, all of which are deadly. Exposure to elements while being unprepared is also deadly. Exposure is deadly and he feels that fear knocking and pounding at the back of his head and against his rib cage.

And yet he finds himself wondering how someone who also hates being so exposed, just like him, is finding it in yourself to expose that part of you. You don't stutter much around him anymore but you just did, a lot, which means you were nervous. Exposed but you did it anyway for him and he doesn't fucking get it. It might as well be rocket science at this point.

And if he weren't so damn terrified of exposure and commitment and everything around him, he'd tell you he's afraid of losing you, too.

So, instead of running or pushing like he so desperately wants to do, he rests his forehead back against yours while your eyes close. Your thumbs run over his thighs and you fall into a silence as if knowing there should be more said in this conversation. But neither one of you are willing to say it.

Jason's heart is beating against his ribs and he thinks his heart is directly beating in search for yours. Maybe it's always been beating for a place to call home and it longs for yours because you’re the closest thing to home he's ever felt. And he wishes he could just tell you that.

But where words fail, actions can speak.

He pulls away, and lifts your chin, kissing your lips gently and softly. He can feel you smile against him and it brings him a sense of ease. The night still weighs heavy on his chest and in his stomach but you kiss him back, just as gently, and it makes the night seem a little easier to swallow. The way you kiss him, makes it a little easier for him to swallow the words he wishes he could say.

"What was that for?" You ask softly because he's never kissed you like that before.

"Thanks for giving a shit about me." Jason lets out a breath.

You let out a laugh, your nose scrunching. "Always." You suck in a breath and you want to understand every part of him. Jason isn’t all that hard to figure out but there are some things you realize you’ve never asked. And all you ever want to do is to be there for him and understand him, just as he does for you. "Can I ask you something?" You ask, pulling away to finish tending to the cut on his neck.

"Sure." Jason tilts his head so you can have better access to the cut.

"Why does Robin mean so much to you?" You glance to him, seeing his brows pull together in a harsh line. "I'm just wondering. I never asked before."

Jason lets out a breath. "I get to help people." Jason states. "Get to kickass with Batman every night, it's the sickest gig in the world." Jason chortles and his laugh makes your heart warm.

"That it? Get to kick some ass helping people?" You ask but the corner of your mouth is tugged up.

"I'm good at it." Jason states as you finishes placing the gauze pad.

His entire life, he's never felt good enough but he's always had this heart of gold. He's always just wanted to help and be helpful. That's it. And Robin lets him do that in such a big way. He doesn't even have the right words to describe it and a part of him doesn't even want to because he thinks it might sound lame out loud. But, he can see you offering him a soft smile.

"Yeah, you are the better Robin." You laugh softly.

"Yeah, thanks." Jason chuckles softly and he plays a big game but it's hard filling in Dick's shoes sometimes. "Just feel fucking important I guess. Like what I do matters."

You pause, your brows furrowing and you’re making it your mission to always make sure he feels important. You place your hands on his thighs while Jason's hands come to your hips. "I am not Robin but, uh, you're important to me, too, ya know? Even without Robin."

Heat rises to Jason's cheeks and he never really knows what to say when you say something like that. "Thanks." He clears his throat because he's worried this might go to a talk of sorts with the comment and he doesn't want it to go there. It can't go there. "What were you working on?"

"Scrapbook." You state and you decide to let him switch the conversation.

"What's it about?"

"It's a secret," You tease him, looking back at him before you grab a wet rag and start cleaning the cut on his lip.

"Come on," Jason groans, smirking under your touch. "Can't even tell me?"

"Nope." You pop the p and your mouth is tugged into a grin.

"Wow, thought there were no secrets between us." The sarcasm drips from his words.

You pull away and grin at him. "Oh, that are plenty of secrets, Jason Todd."

"Oh yeah, like what?" Jason's voice drops and he knows what you’re doing.

"They wouldn't be secrets if I told you." Your eyes widen at him.

He wants to hear all of your secrets. All the good, the bad, and the ugly. Jason holds many secrets close to his chest and you do, too but he wants to know yours. He'd be willing to sit and tell you more of his if you can do the same. You’re the only one he's ever felt that way with. He wants to know every detail.

"Tell me one." His voice goes soft, catching you off guard.

You rest the rag in the sink, placing your hands back on his thighs. "Then you have to tell me one." Your eyes narrow slightly, a smirk dancing over your lips.

Jason gets a smirk, his eyes darting between your eyes and lips. "Deal."

You think all of your secrets are about him. He knows everything else. You’ve told him it all whether he knows it or not. The only ones you have left are the ones about him and those are the ones most guarded. They are yours. They stay locked behind your ribcage to keep you and Jason like this. Flirt and fun and no strings attached. But, he's got these big green eyes that make your secrets want to spill out carelessly.

"Okay, are we having a discussion about these secrets or not?" You ask bluntly and you want to know what's safe to tell him now. You don't want the talk yet. What you're doing is fun and easy. You don't want to complicate it just yet.

Jason shakes his head. "Nope." He doesn't want the talk either. This is comfortable. He wants to be comfortable a little bit longer with you.

"It was always you." Your voice is so quiet Jason almost doesn't hear you and Jason just eyes you as your eyes divert to your hands slightly gripping his thighs.

If things didn't get complicated with Rose and the attack on the tower, and if he wouldn't have pushed you away and if you wouldn't have run, you would have told him. You would have just said the words but all of those things happened. And while you don't want that conversation right now because things would change too much too soon, you do want him to know. He beats himself up when things go wrong and Jason thinks he's not worthy of being cared for or important to other people. He deserves to know.

His heart nearly stops in his chest. He racks his brain, trying to figure out exactly what that means because it cannot mean what he thinks it means. But he's almost positive there can't be anything else you mean by that. He remembers every conversation you’ve ever had and you wouldn't tell him something he wouldn't remember. The only thing that comes to his head is him and Gar. And that thought is banging and pounding against his ribcage, trying to thrash its way out into the open air and ask. To verify that's true. But, he can't. His ribcage stays closed and locked and guarded.

"Don't dig into it." You state as you finally look back at him and see the gears in his head start to move. "Your turn."

Jason bounces too many secrets around on his head. He could tell her so many. He's thought about kissing you since that day in the training room where you told him what happened to you. He wishes he would have kissed you both of those nights in the bathroom. He should have asked you to leave with him. But all of those seem too heavy and he knows you will want to dig into them. That's not fair to you. He won't do that. And that’s why he doesn’t tell you it should have been you, it’s always been you. You deserve to know, too but you’ll dig and he knows you will. That’s not fair. So, he picks something else that's still honest, but not something that'll bother you.

"I like when you help me like this. Never liked when Bruce or Alfred would offer." Jason’s voice is soft but a little hesitant.

You offer him a gentle smile and you actually expected him to say something less serious, something more of a joke. You were okay with that. So, this is surprising.

"I'll always clean you up." You laugh softly.

Jason isn't gonna talk about it. Not even that, it's too much tonight so instead, he pulls you closer to him before sliding his hands up to your face and bringing your lips to his.

Over the next few weeks, things continue as normal. You and Jason continue your new arrangement and it's going well. You've managed to keep it between the two of you, not even realizing Bruce and Molly have definitely figured something was going on. You're existing in your own bubble together. Bruce upped your training so he knows what you’re capable of. He's happy to have you along on patrol but he's going to make sure you’re safe just as he did with Jason and Dick.

Training with Bruce is different than Dick and Jason. Dick was defensive, Jason is offensive, and Bruce is a mix of both as well as observing. But, you follow along with him just fine and Bruce has you fitted for a suit because if someone is going on patrol with him, they need extra protection. And you’ve felt comfortable enough on the bike, with Jason's teaching, that you applied for a motorcycle license and are just waiting for the all-clear. Jason assures you that they approve most people and you don't need a standard license to even apply. So, you’re not worried.

Now though, you’re hanging out with Molly at Molly's apartment in Crime Alley. You've been hanging out a lot more and you feel so happy. You were best friends your entire lives and you missed her. It's why you never mentioned her by name. Keeping her name out of your mouth, kept the ache of missing her at a distance. But you're back together and Molly missed you, too. She always worried you found yourself dead somewhere. She's relieved you were just across the country.

"I missed this place." You let a sigh, opening the take-out box.

"I swear, we'd eat there every weekend. I haven't had this is forever." Molly laughs softly. It was your favorite place, eating there hurt.

"Really? This was the first place I wanted to hit when I got back. Jason and me went the very next day I was here." You beam.

"Oh, you took Jason to your favorite take-out place?" Molly asks with a grin, her sitting down and opening her own take-out back.

"Yeah! He needs to experience it, too." You defend. "Why?"

"Just funny." Molly laughs softly. "Seems nothing has changed though. Getting the same order."

"And the place looks the exact same." You gesture your fork at Molly. "Tim still helping out, just as a full-time employee now."

"Yeah, instead him running orders in between doing his homework," Molly laughs and Tim is the son of the owners of the restaurant.

The three of you aren't friends by any means but you've had your fair share of conversations over the years. Tim was always in the restaurant when you and Molly would pop in and the natural order of things would be to talk to people around the same age.

"Feels so homey." You smile softly.

Your phone vibrates and Molly has noticed your face lights up when you check it. You start typing and there's this smile on your lips that warms Molly's heart. You’ve always been a little cynical, just a little. But you were also happy. It's just, Molly hasn't seen you like this and you’ve been different. In some ways a good different and in others, not so much.

"How are you? It's been a few weeks and I haven't asked in a while. I wanted to give you some space." Molly’s voice is kind as she starts on her food.

"I'm really good, actually." You answer honestly.

You’re still having nightmares and you look over your shoulder still. But, you don't feel nearly as paranoid. The nightmares are slowing down. You’re getting a little more sleep. And then there's Jason. He makes you feel so at ease with everything.

"Good, you look happy." Molly’s smile is gentle and warm.

"Yeah..." You let out a soft sigh. You aren't sure you’ve ever been this happy as you type away as at a text which is of course just Jason asking what you and Molly are up to.

"So...you and Jason...?" Molly raises a brow at you.

"What about us?" You answer slowly, resting your phone on the table.

"You like him." Molly teases softly.

"Do I?" You quip.

"Yes. You have never been more obvious about something in your life." Molly laughs.

"What do you mean?" You snort with the shake of your head.

It's not so much that you care that Molly knows. It's that you know Molly and you know Molly is going to have a whole lot of questions as to why you haven't told him yet. In order for you to answer that honestly, you would have to tell Molly about Deathstroke which means Robin and you can't do that.

"Well, no one calls him Jay so there's that. You two are always touching each other in some way which is very uncharacteristic of the both of you. The way you guys joke with each other. You talk about him a lot. You talk about the other people but not like you talk about Jason. Then there's the way you look at—"

"Okay." You cut your off, getting the point. You didn't realize you made it so obvious. "I get it."

"So?" Molly presses.

"Yeah, he just...." You pause and a sad smile comes to your lips. "I really, really like him and he's such a brat, ya know? But...I don't know. He's...good. I don't know, he gets me and I get him. It's like we don't even have to talk to get it, I guess." Your brows furrow. "I don't know."

"He likes you, too you know?" Molly pokes at her food.

"How do you figure?" You chuckle and you’re always hoping he does but you highly doubt that’s a detail Jason told Molly.

"He watches you. Like, always. When he says something he thinks is funny, he immediately looks at you to see if you laugh which, by the way, you always do and Jason isn't that funny." Molly teases and it gets a laugh out of you. "He's really protective of you, I mean, he is with most but it's different with you, remember when we saw that move last week?"

"Yes?" You question and you’re not entirely sure what that has to do with anything.

It went as it always does when you go to see a movie. You tease Jason about how few movies he’s seen and he calls you a nerd and tells you to get out more. As far as you remember, it went as it always does.

"There was a guy eyeing you and you were oblivious to it because you were too busy watching Jason but Jason was staring that guy down so hard, I thought Jason was going to walk over and hit him, the guy left. If looks could kill, that guy would have been dead. Also, don't tell him I told you this, okay?"

"Okay?"

"When he came back, he told me about this girl and I've never heard him talk like that about someone before. He said she drove him insane but was also one of the coolest people he's ever met. And he missed her. I kind of thought he was talking about Rose. Like he wasn't over her because he said he was excited this girl was coming to Gotham but then you walked into the coffee shop that day and I knew he was talking about you not Rose. So, for what it's worth, he likes you."

Jason looped Molly in about Rose when he got back. He didn't tell her much but he did tell her. So, when Jason was also talking about this other girl, Molly kind of figured it'd be Rose because Jason, as long as Molly has known him at least, hasn't been with many people. It's not all that shocking with his inability to let people in so Molly always thought it was Rose. But, she watches Jason and you and realizes all those good things she's heard, were always about you. Not Rose. And Molly, for one, thinks the two of you would be good together.

A soft, sheepish smile tugs at your lips as your heart burns in your chest. "I didn't realize he talked about me."

It's a little surprising since it's Jason. But, your heart warms with the idea of him telling anyone about you. And him being excited for you to be in Gotham with him.

"You know Jason, super open and great at communication." Molly laughs softly. "So, have you told him?"

You shake your head. "No..." You mutter as you take a drink of your drink.

"Why not!? You always tell people and he likes you, too." Molly groans and Jason, she completely understands not saying anything but you? Not so much.

"It's complicated." You let out a sigh knowing complicated is an easy way to put it.

"Life is too short and you like him, he likes you. What's so complicated?"

You run every reason through your head. Deathstroke, almost dying, Gar, Rose, not wanting to get hurt again. Not wanting to Jason to die for you and Jason not wanting you to die for him. The whole idea of a relationship is terrifying. You’re both a little bit of mess at this exact point in time. The endless trauma that seems to follow you both around. And friends with benefits is fun. There are several reasons why this is complicated but most of those you can’t tell her. But, you can tell her one reason.

"I....okay...I can't tell you everything and I'm asking you to not ask about everything, okay? It's not my shit to tell. I can't tell you without telling you everyone else's shit and that's not fair."

"Okay?" Molly nods her head slowly, her brows furrowing together, unsure what you could possibly mean by any of that.

"So, uh....you just have to take what I tell you and don't ask questions and do not dig, I know you love to dig into things, so please don't."

"Okay, but you're freaking me out." Molly forces a small laugh.

"It's fine. But, look, something happened and uh....we got hurt. And I kissed him." You cut out every other important detail, knowing that likely makes very little sense.

"You did?!"

"Yeah, and I uh, I don't know. We went back home and we helping each other out and he told me he couldn't. He had his reasons and I...I agreed with him enough, I guess. And he said, that I was into Gar and he was into Rose anyway it wouldn't work with us. And that was the end of it." You poke your food with a fork because maybe that conversation still stings a little bit.

"You did it again." Molly groans as she she shakes her head.

"Yep." You nod your head. "I know, I realized that later. I should have fought but I did like Gar and he liked Rose. Those were facts we both knew. So, I Iet him push and I ran. And now, I'm....worried if I tell him, he won't pick me again and that'll suck. I know I put Gar in that shitty situation and that's not fair but I don't want him to push again. It just sucked."

You’re not a pick-me person but it hurt anyway. And you know that the odds of Jason pushing again, after everything and with where you stand right now, are probably pretty slim. But, there is that chance because he kissed you back that night, too. He never said he didn’t like you. But, that’s also a very, very small reason for not telling him. You think you could suck up the fear of it if it weren’t for everything else but you can’t tell Molly that. You can just give her this one, miniscule reason.

"Right, but you let him. And I'm telling you he likes you. What's the worst that can happen if you tell him?" Molly shrugs her shoulders.

"We'd have to talk about it and neither of us want to." You chortle.

"So don't? You tell him and then he tells you and that can be the end of it, you don't need to have this whole contract discussed and signed about it."

"Yeah..." You let out a sigh. "There is more to it but that's what I can tell you."

"We'll, regardless, you should tell him. You would be good together." Molly shrugs softly, a cheeky smile pulling at her lips.

"I will, I swear. But, we're just having fun right now and I think we're both comfortable here for now." You take a bite of your food with the shrug of your shoulders. "What about you?" You ask changing it back to Molly. "Seeing anyone?"

Molly laughs softly, getting the hint to switch subjects. "Kind of. There's a girl, Sheila."

“Oh, Sheila?” Your eyes widen. “Go on.” You urge with a wide smile.

When you get back of the Manor, you go looking for Jason. While things are getting better for you, they almost seemed to have stalled for Jason. He feels happy. That's not the issue. The issue is patrolling as Robin and then the lack of sleep. His nightmares are several times a week and he can't bring himself to sleep some nights. He lays with you and you fall asleep. He never expects you or wants you to stay up and suffer with him. Everything is just hard. And he's so angry about it.

He's scared of everything that moves sideways and he never used to be like that. He couldn't afford to be like that. All he does is feel weak and every time he fucks up on patrol, it gets worse. He feels that much more like a failure and disappointment to Bruce. Every time a nightmare hits, he feels worse. And he hates that his leg still hurts. It's not fair and he's fine, usually. He deals with it. But, there are some days, like today, when the world feels a little heavier.

"Hey." You greet him quietly as you walk into the library, Jason seated on the couch against the windows with a book open.

He looks over the book and he smiles, almost subconsciously. "Hey, how's Molly?"

"Good, we got food from that place I like." You smile softly as you walk further into the room. He's reading Frankenstein again and you think the bags under his eyes are darker today. "Reading, huh?" You tilt your head slightly to the right.

"Yeah," Jason answers plainly.

You sleep together nearly every night and Jason doesn't know, but you feel him awake sometimes. And when you try not to sleep in each other's rooms, usually one of you wakes up from a nightmare anyway and wanders into the other's room. More often than not, it's Jason coming into your room. And sometimes, you’re the one that goes into his room to wake him up because he's screaming so loud, it wakes you up in your own room. The only reason you aren't completely freaking out is because he's getting better about talking about his nightmares with you. But, it's clear it bothers him. You wish more than anything you knew how to help him.

"Loud?" You ask and that's one thing he adores and appreciates about you. You’re never afraid to ask him about it. And you never really have to. You know. He never has to tell you. No one knows him like you do.

"Yeah."

"Wanna talk about it?"

Jason shakes his head, a gentle smirk on his lips. "Nope."

"Okay." You smile at him. "I'll be right back." You spin on your heels and dart out of the room, leaving Jason a little confused.

He goes back to reading his book until you walk in, carrying your scrapbook supplies in both arms, you have a warm but wide smile tugging at your lips. You sit on the floor at the table in front of Jason. Jason watches you get your supplies spread across the table and that's another thing about you. You just join him. You accept him not talking about everything because he will. He always tells you what's going on with him eventually. But until he's ready, you just sit with him so he's never alone.

"I'll just do my thing and you can talk if you want to or read." You smile widely at him as you look over your shoulder.

Jason lets out a soft chuckle. "Can read out loud if you want."

"I think you just like to hear yourself talk." You chuckle, looking back at the table.

"And you don't?" Jason chortles.

"I didn't say I didn't," You laugh softly and you could listen to him read an instruction manual and still be entertained.

"Yeah, alright. Did you want context?"

"No, you can just read." You answer softly, leaning over the table to open to the page in scrapbook you were last working on. And Jason starts reading.

Jason continues to read out loud and you work on putting your page together. Jason looks over his book after every paragraph, not even realizing he's doing it so often. But he can see some of what you’re doing and you’re working a page that looks to be all of the Titans. He can see a picture of Dick and Gar laid out while there's another one of Rachel on the actual page. And he smiles softly. He just likes you so much and he is so aware of it. You’re in your own little bubble with him reading to you and he thinks this is how it should be because it's peaceful.

Jason has never known peace. Between how he grew up and the streets and Robin, peace isn't exactly in his life. He didn't even think he knew a life could have peace. But then he meets you and somewhere between the chaos of your lives and falling into comfort with you, he realizes he's at peace when you’re around.

He wakes up from a nightmare and there you are looking at him with soft eyes and a look of worry across your face. But one that wreaks of kindness and adoration. And the nightmares don't seem so scary anymore. And then when things feel too heavy, you walk in and hold the world up with him. When he wants to absolutely lose it because patrol didn't go well and Bruce lectures him, you give him a smirk and it quiets the thoughts. When he thinks he's not worthy of anything good, you kiss him and he swears you are good. And maybe, just maybe, there is a part of him that can be deserving of you. When Jason doesn't think he knows what peace is, you walk in and decides to be his peace for him.

"Are you ever gonna show me?" Jason asks, looking up from his book and leaning slightly over the couch to get a better look.

You shove your book away from him. "You're so nosy." You give him a fake whine. "Maybe."

"Just maybe?" Jason leans all the way up, trying to get a look at the other side and you move it away.

"It's not done!" You turn to give him the fakest scowl he's ever seen.

"Sneak peak?" Jason gives you a cheeky smile.

"While that is cute of you, no."

Jason puts his finger in his book and swings his legs to the floor, planting his feet down. He leans over to you, closing most of the distance between you. His grin is wicked and wild like a rogue wave and you want to drown right into him.

"You're just gonna make me wait?" Jason's voice drops.

"Patience is a virtue, Jay." You lick your lips as you look to his.

"I'm not a patient person."

"Oh, I know." You laugh softly as Jason gets closer to you, his nose brushing over yours and you swear you'll never get used to it. You can feel him leaning over you though and you pull away, moving the book over. "Nice try."

Jason leans back with a booming laugh. "Worth a shot."

"Gotta be quicker than that, Jay."

"But you'll show me, right? When it's done?"

"Yes, of course." You roll your eyes. "It's just a book about you guys so I'll give that. You get to know what it's about." Your entire chest burns with his interest in your thing.

"The whole book?" Jason raises a brow.

"Mhm. You all get a dedicated page. But that's it, you don't get any more than that."

Jason's voice catches in his throat because if they all get a dedicated page, that means he does, too. "Oh, I get a page, huh?"

"Yes." You chew the inside of your cheek. "If you stop being so nosy, maybe you'll get two."

Jason wants to crack his rips wide open and let you take his heart right out of its place. He thinks maybe he was born with a broken heart, maybe it was supposed to be permanently damaged. And as he grew up, people took more pieces of his broken heart leaving him with this shell of something that doesn't even resemble a heart. Because it's guarded by so much barbed wire and latches, it's nearly impossible to access. But he wants to take all of that away and let you take what's left of it. He wants to give you every damaged piece of him he has left and maybe, just maybe, you'll offer a piece of yours for him. And his heart won't be permanently broken after all. Maybe. Just maybe, he's been wrong his entire life and he doesn't have to be broken forever.

Maybe he was born with a broken heart but maybe his heart wasn't destined to be permanently damaged.

"I'll take that." Jason beams at you and he wants to be involved in all of your hobbies.

He's not sentimental, but he wants to take all the pictures he possibly can in case you ever want them for a scrapbook. And he wants to go to your silly hobby stores and help you pick up more supplies. He wants to learn about how you choose a topic and how you plan your pages. He wants to know all of it.

"Can you show me how you do your scrapbooks sometime?"

Your brows furrow. "Um...yeah, of course. Didn't think you'd be into it."

"You like it." Jason states and you’re so head over heels for him.

"Can you teach me how to cook some of your favorites then?" You ask. "You like it." You state with ease.

Jason's smile is soft and loving. "Yeah, of course. Don't wanna learn your favorites?"

You shrug. "Yeah I do but...then I can make yours. You always make stuff for me."

"Alright." Jason chuckles softly and the both of you wonder how long you'll do this for. That was not a friendly thing either of you just offered and you both know it. "I'll teach you something tomorrow."

"Then I'll teach you tomorrow, too." You beam at him. "Think of a topic you want to do and find some pictures."

"Yes, ma'am." Sarcasm fills his words but he's so excited to learn about your thing. Jason leans in closer once more, almost kissing you before your attention is pulled to the doors by Bruce clearing his throat.

"Sorry to interrupt." Bruce states, eyeing the two of you and he finds this whole thing amusing. You both actually think he has no idea what's going on.

Jason leans back a little in his seat, cheeks shooting a fire engine red while you keep your attention on Bruce. Why do the older bats keep interrupting and how the hell do they always know? Jason though, can see that Bruce doesn't look mad or annoyed. He actually looks happy.

"Why are you so happy?" Jason questions.

"That's him being happy?" You whisper as you turn around to look at him and Jason chuckles quietly.

"Your suit has arrived." Bruce offers you a soft smile.

In all honesty, you thought that it would take longer but you can't be too surprised. This is Bruce Wayne.

"No shit?" You question and while you like to tease Jason about his suit, you do actually think it's kind of cool and you’ve been excited waiting for this day to come. That also means, you should be able to finally join them on patrol.

Jason moves to the edge of his seat because while this is your suit, he's just as excited. He remembers the first day he got to put on the Robin suit and he still deems that the best day of his life. He doesn't think it'll be like that for you but he's excited for you anyway.

"Would you like to see it?" Bruce asks.

"Hell yeah." You close your scrapbook and get to your feet, Jason immediately joining you.

The two of you follow Bruce down to the Batcave. Bruce hands you a suitcase, one similar to the one Jason has for the Robin suit. You head off to the bathroom/changing area and get changed. You look in the mirror and you beam with a sense of pride.

It's so lame and it's impractical to have to change but you really like it. In a way, it's as if it solidifies your role as a vigilante. You wear a mask and that's fine but this is different. This actually hides your identity better than just a mask does and you feel as if this is what you’re meant to do. The suit is the symbol of vigilantism and you feel so proud of it. It does not define you but you hold your head up high anyway. It just fits perfectly and it's yours. So, you walk out with your head high, a pep in your step.

Jason's eyes widen as he smiles widely, getting up from his seat at the batcomputer when you come into view. The suit is black but it has Pacific blue accents. The tactical belt is Pacific blue and the cape, that naturally has a hood, is also Pacific blue. There are two vertical stripes of blue fabric down your sides, the gloves that go almost to your elbow are blue as are your boots. The holsters hugging your thighs are even blue. Instead of a domino mask like Jason and Dick, you have a mask on the lower half of your face, covering your mouth. The mask is also blue. And Jason thinks you look absolutely amazing.

"Holy shit." Jason gawks.

"It's so cool, right?!!" You beam, nearly jumping.

Jason can't help but laugh. Of all people, he didn't think you would actually think the suit thing was cool. You’ve made fun of him a hand full of times about the Robin suit, mostly about the mask and cape. But, he finds it amusing anyway because you’re beaming at him and you’re he one that asked for the cape.

"I thought you said it was lame." Jason smirks at you.

"It is but it's so fucking cool!" You’re so excited and Jason can see the smile in your eyes. "Is my cape fireproof and bulletproof?" You look at Bruce who has a sense of pride. You’re not his vigilante in the same way Jason and Dick are and were but he thinks you'll do just fine.

"Yes, of course. All of your knives and tools fit in your belt and in the holsters." Bruce explains.

"This is so fucking cool, Bruce." You think you might vibrate right out of the suit from being too excited. "Thank you, seriously."

"You're very welcome."

"So, I can go on patrol now?" You look between the two of them.

"We go tonight." Bruce offers you a nod.

"You're a bat now." Jason quips, earning a fake glare from you.

"Guess, it's worth it. I mean, my cape is cooler than yours." You state as you pull the hood over your head. "I got a hood."

Jason lets out a heart-filled laugh. "Yeah, but yours was modeled after mine." Jason quips.

"Still it's so cool." You can't even fire back because this is just the coolest thing ever. "Gar is gonna lose his mind."

"He's gonna have a fuck ton of questions about it." Jason lets out a laugh.

"I know! But he'll think it's cool!"

"You're gonna hang out in that all day, aren't you?" Jason leans back against the desk to the batcomputer, a cocky and knowing grin on his lips.

"It is tempting." You let out a laugh as you look down over the suit.

"You'll be able to wear it plenty." Bruce chuckles and you remind him of Dick and Jason when they first put on their Robin suits.

Jason even said it was the best day of his life. It's like the suit makes it all real. It makes what you all do a reality, a sense of purpose. A sense of hope and that's why Bruce does it, recruits Robins. To help them and offer them a sense of purpose and hope. Even if things don't always go to plan.

"Thank you, again." You say genuinely.

"You're welcome."

"Can...can I show Gar? And the Titans?" You ask.

You’re not exactly sure where the line is on telling people. You know you can't just go out telling any random person, or friend that's not in your line of work. But it's the Titans, all of which know about Bruce.

"Yes." Bruce chuckles softly. "Just put it in the case when you're done." Bruce states before he exits the cave.

You pull out your phone and take a selfie, your eyes smiling for you and Jason shakes his head. You’re so pretty and funny and cute. Jason doesn't think he has enough words or even the proper words to describe how he feels about you. You walk up to Jason and hand him the phone.

"Wanna take one for me?" You ask.

"Sure." Jason chuckles softly and you stand in front of him, your hands on your hips with your head held proudly, the hood and the mask concealing most of your face and Jason has to give it to you. The hood was smart. "Here." Jason hands you the phone back as you look at the picture and you can't believe this is happening. Your entire life Batman and Robin have been the vigilantes of Gotham and now you’re one of them. It's insane. "It looks really good on you." Jason states softly.

"You think so?" You ask with hopeful eyes.

Jason nods, his eyes looking you up and down. "Yeah, it's fucking hot."

"Oh?" You question, pulling down your hood. "You think so?" Jason can't see it, but you’re giving him a teasing grin.

"Hell yeah." Jason closes some of the distance between you and he wonders if you see him like this in the Robin suit. You make fun of him sure, but now you’re the one in a suit and cape.

"Robin suit is pretty hot, too, ya know?" You shrug your shoulders lazily.

"You think so?" Jason's voice drops and he goes to look at your lips, realizing he can't so his eyes come back to yours and he swears he wants to drown in them. "Always making fun of me."

"Hell yeah." You pull the mask off and close the distance between you. "You're just easy to make fun of."

"Guess we just make a good team, huh?" Jason asks, his voice so low you can barely hear him and now he's freely glancing to your lips.

His hands rest on your hips, just above the tackle belt and he's never felt the fabric like this before, on someone else. There's a sturdiness to it. It's thick and textured under his callused palms. And a part of him, while he wants you to come on patrol, was a little nervous about it. With your whole ability to get kidnapped and held captive, or almost, it worries him just a little bit. But, you’re wearing this suit and he knows first hand that his suit protects him from so much every night and he doesn't feel so nervous about it anymore.

"Guess so." You lay your hands on his sides, lightly holding his t-shirt.

Jason grins before putting a finger under your chin and bringing your face to his, kissing you gently.

That night, you go out on patrol with Jason and Bruce for the first time. Going out with the Titans was always fun and riveting. It's one of the reasons you missed it but you were a big group. But, going out with just Bruce and Jason, it's just the three of you. And there's something about it you think you kind of prefer over the larger group. Even if that means working with Bruce. But, it's fun and you have a great time and patrol goes well. Nothing eventful really happened, just the usual small petty crimes but went well anyway.

The next day comes around Jason teaches you how to cook pot roast. It is his favorite meal after all. There's a lot of laughter and stolen glances. Jason's never taught anyone how to cook anything. It's always been him and then Alfred taught him some things. But that's all it ever was. And now he's here with you, teaching you and you’re like a sponge, absorbing everything he's telling you. You keep notes on your tablet and Jason thinks it's the cutest thing in the world. You do all of it for him. And for a second, Jason catches him thinking that friends don't do that. Again.

You're friends, that's been established whenever Molly asks. Or Bruce gives either of you one of his looks that somehow say everything and nothing all at once but they wreak of suspicion. When you first started this, you asked if it were friends with benefits and Jason said it'd be fun. It is. It is a lot of fun. But, he does find that maybe you're crossing that line more often than not now where it's not really friends anymore.

You reach for his hand during movies and TV shows so you can play with his fingers and he rubs your back and plays with your hair. You kiss a lot more than when you're joking or sparring or more. You’re dedicated to learning his favorite meals and he's dedicated to learning your hobbies. You sleep together more often than not. You are almost always together or texting when you're not. He always makes sure you’re tucked in when he wakes up first. And he swears friends don't do this and a part of him wants to freak out about it. Push you away and call this whole thing quits but he looks over at you as you beams with pure and unfiltered joy, and he knows he won't do that.

He decides, he wants this. Whatever the fuck this is going to be, he wants it forever. With you. He wants you today, tomorrow, and every day after that. Jason wants you to give him all of your broken pieces and let him mend them back together or replace them with every whole piece he has left. He swears up and down he doesn't deserve it and he doesn't deserve you. But, right now, in this moment watching you learn his favorite meal with the happiest smile he's ever seen, he can try to be someone who does deserve you. He'll try to be someone you deserve. So, he smiles back at you and walk up to you, wrapping you in his arms before kissing you.

And you teach him stuff about scrapbooking. You went to the store before dinner and you’re positive you were probably annoying because while Jason is interested, he also is a huge dork. He really enjoyed the googly eyes and insisted he would need them. For what? You don't know but sure. He was just interested in everything and you watched him with stars in your eyes because Molly is the only one who ever showed interest in your things. Molly is the only one who let you go on movie rants but Jason does, too. Jason does with enthusiasm and then it's like he keeps a mental note of everything you have ever said. You don't know why he does it or how but it makes you feel important in a way you’ve never felt before.

As the week goes by, you think patrolling with Bruce is so bizarre. He's been Batman for your entire life and now you’re....sitting on rooftops which is an entirely other situation, with him. It's weird as shit. But, you are enjoying it. You like helping innocent people stay safe. And you get to spend some more time with Jason, you get to watch Jason in his favorite element. Kicking ass. And he's hot while he does it, too.

Now, you're back at the Manor and you’re the first one to shower this time. Showering after patrol is actually the best type of shower. Even if you don't do anything, something about it feels refreshing. For you, it's kind of like you come home and then you don't have to be a hero. You can exist. You step into the shower and that part of yourself gets to wash away with the water. You think it might be better that way because you think Jason's issue is that Robin has become so embedded in every part of him, he doesn't know how to fully separate himself from it. And while you adore him, you don't want that.

You watch him and you listen to him scream in the middle of the night. He doesn't deserve it and you don't want that either. So, you separate yourself from it and when you’re here, during the day and after patrol, you are not a hero. You’re you.

Jason has found himself in the bathroom with you. It's a routine you’ve gotten into. One of you showers while the other one brushes your teeth and gets mostly ready for bed. Neither of you are even entirely sure how it started but there's a sense of comfort in it. It feels normal and safe this way. Even though the Manor is probably the safest place in all of Gotham.

And Jason can see you through the frosted glass and he adores you. You’re pretty and smart as hell, you’re dramatic and funny in all the right ways. You get his sense of humor which is a feat in itself. You get him and Jason likes to be close to you. You take care of him in ways no one has ever done. He didn't think he deserved it but you do. You clean up his cuts and scrapes and never even flinch. You give him a look sometimes with the roll of your eyes and all he can do is smirk because he knows you worry but you support him anyway because it's his thing. And you rub his back and you always know when his leg hurts.

Jason thinks maybe you don't know he notices when you notice but he does because you’re always extra cautious around him. You take care of him and he's thinking it should be the other way around.

"Hey, can I come in?" Jason asks, hiding the hesitance in his voice.

Your brows furrow but you’re not about to tell him no. "Um...sure?" Jason hears you laugh and his body erupts with goosebumps.

He strips down and pulls the door open just enough to get in the shower with you.

You turn around, feeling the cool breeze on your skin. "What're you doing?" You ask through a laugh. He's never joined you for a shower before, not that you mind.

"Thought I'd help." Jason offers you a smirk.

Your brows raise. "With?"

"You wash your hair yet?" Jason questions and you’re watching his expression carefully and sometimes, he's really, really good at hiding exactly what he's feeling and thinking. And this is one of those times.

"Yes." You state, your eyes slightly narrowing at him.

"Anything else?"

"No." You can't help but laugh and Jason loves the way it echoes on the title walls.

"I'll wash your back for you." Jason holds his head up high and you offer him a shrug, turning around.

Jason grabs his own soap and pours some in his hands. Once his hands are lathered, he gently runs his hands over your shoulders and your entire body erupts with goosebumps, static settling into the marrow of your bones. Jason is always gentle with you, even when he's not. He's careful and tender. But, this is different. You aren't laying down together or laughing about something stupid. And he's doing this just because. And it's just so nice of him and sweet and tender. All words you think no one else would ever use to describe him. But you do.

Jason rinses his hands once he's finished rubbing the soap in and he uses his hands to start washing it away. He's careful over the scars, not wanting to put too much pressure on them but he allows himself to trace over them. He wishes you didn't have them, not because he doesn't like them, but because you shouldn't have been put through that. He'd go to hell and back to prevent it from ever happening again. If anyone deserves better in this world, it's you. It's always you.

Jason presses a kiss to the top of your shoulder and you turn your head to look at him. Your eyes are soft, brows slightly knitted together. You love how his hair sticks to his forehead when it's wet and the way his skin glistens with the waterdrops. You feel your heart start to race in your chest as he moves up your neck and you have never wanted anyone more than you want him. You think he's ruined you for anyone that could have possibly come after him. And every part of you couldn't be happier about it.

"You didn't use my soap." You whisper as Jason kisses your neck, you tilting your head to give him better access.

"Nope." Jason mutters against your skin before nipping at the base of your neck.

"Why's that?" You question, your eyes closing and you think you might suffocate under his touch. You feel him smirk against your skin, setting your entire body on fire.

"Because." Jason answers before he starts sucking a spot into your neck and he definitely does it on purpose. He likes when you smell like him.

Jason nips at the skin once more, pulling away to see the mark on your skin. And he smiles proudly to himself, before kissing the area and then kissing back to your shoulder again. You aren't sure what he's doing but you swear he could do this all night and you'd feel lucky.

Lucky is not how you have felt, ever. There have been moments where you’ve realized what you had before, with your mom, was lucky. And you realize Dick finding you was also lucky. Finding these friends was lucky. Finding Jason was lucky. But, you’ve never considered yourself a lucky person. Disaster and heartbreak seem to follow you around like a magnetic tornado. But, Jason is here and he's kissing you softly and gently and he's taking care of you and for the first time, you think you might be lucky.

Lucky to have him and deserve someone like him. You’re lucky to be here with him today and for the first time, you don't let the paranoia of something bad coming, ruin this moment. Whenever something good happens to you, something bad follows but right now, with Jason, you don't have a single thought like that. Because even with you not together, you’re lucky to have him. And you know it.

You turn around, looking up at him and Jason loves your eyes. "Let me." You whisper softly, grabbing your soap from the shelf and Jason chuckles softly, turning around.

You get some soap on your hands and start massaging it into his shoulders. Jason dips his head and he really could just evaporate into oblivion under your touch. It does something so special to him that he doesn't think he can explain. But he feels wanted and cared for. You’re careful, minding the scar on his back like he did with you and you trace over it, just like he did. And you massage some of the muscle as you rub the soap in because Jason's always too tense and his back is always filled with knots.

Jason lets out a soft groan as you work out a knot under the warm water and he doesn't know how you know to do it. He doesn't know why you do it and normally that would bother him. To not have the why. But, it's you and he doesn't need to know. Because he trusts you.

You kiss his back as you wash the soap away and Jason feels exposed again but in a way, he thinks he could live like this forever. Exposed to only you. It's not so scary when it's with you. And you can feel him relax under your touch as you smile against his skin. You can always get him to relax. And you always notice.

He'll be tense, maybe he doesn't even realize it, but then you take his hand in yours or you kiss him anywhere or you put your legs on top of his and suddenly, you see him let out a breath as if he's never been able to breathe properly in his life. And his shoulders move forward just a little and he gains this half-cocked grin, every single time.

When you started this whole thing, you knew. You knew how you felt about him because you’ve always known. And you knew he did, too. You hate conversations about feelings because it's exposing yourselves to being left bleeding wide open. It exposes you to the elements of heartache and being alone. It leaves you exposed to allowing someone else to hold the hammer that could finally shatter the last remaining pieces of your hearts. And you do enough bleeding and breaking for yourselves. But, you don't need to have the conversation because you’ve always known. Even when you want to deny it because that sometimes still seems easier than allowing each other to hold the hammer.

You slide your hands up his chest and rest your cheek against his back, hugging him softly. You feel Jason vibrate as a chuckle pulls through his lungs. He rests his hands on top of yours before picking one of them up and kissing the top of it. Jason turns around and places his hands on your hips, squeezing softly and he loves how your skin is soft compared to his hands. You offer him a gentle smile as you rest your hands on his shoulders and you love the way his shoulders feel on your hands, warm and sturdy.

"You didn't use my soap." Jason states with so much warmth you swear you'll never be cold again.

"Nope." You smile up at him.

"Why's that?" Jason dips his head closer to you.

He holds your hips like they're a lifeline to hope and happiness. And he wants to hold on forever because sometimes he needs a reason to keep holding onto hope. And you, in the middle of the chaos, offer him that hope. And he wants you, he wants this, late nights in the shower with you after patrol, cooking dinner with you, doing dishes, reading and hanging out in the library with you, today, tomorrow, and every day after that.

"Because." You whisper softly, brushing your nose against his.

Jason rests his forehead against yours and closes his eyes for just a second. There's this feeling in his chest, something he doesn't think he's ever felt before. It's in his chest and his stomach and seeping into every crevice of his brain. It's in his blood and bones and knees. It's warm like a campfire and thrilling. It's like lightning struck his entire body and this vibrating, burning feeling is the aftermath. He feels so happy. And instead of butterflies in his stomach, it's more like lightning bugs coming out during the first warm day of the year. Flickering with light and warmth, glowing. A reminder that the cold days are only temporary and it will be warm again. It's easy and subtle and calming. And scary and thrilling and exciting and happy. It's everything all at once. He doesn't know exactly what that feeling is, what the vibrating in his bones is or the weakness in his knees is, but he knows it feels like home with you.

You press your lips to his and it's gentle and soft. The kiss is sweet as honey and Jason pulls you impossibly close to him, your chests touching. And he wants to devour you.

You snake your hands into his wet hair, giving a light tug and Jason's hands trail to your ass, giving you a squeeze. You squeal against him and Jason chuckles against your lips. And you feel his length growing between you.

You take him into your hand, pumping him slowly and eagerly while Jason bites your bottom lip. The heat grows between your thighs as the kiss grows sloppy. Jason is heaving softly against you and his right hand snakes between the two of you, teasing your hole with a single finger. Your knees weaken with the touch and you let out a soft whimper, feelings your body desperate for more.

"Eager?" Jason chuckles hoarsely against your lips.

"So are you." You quip back, pumping just the tip as you feel precum leak onto your hand, mixing with the water. Jason lets out a groan, jerking his hips forward. "You're perfect, Jay." You whisper against his lips.

Jason’s heart booms against his ribcage as his head swims with praise. His cock twitches in your hand and the only thing he wants to do is pin you against the wall and drown right into you.

"Shit." Jason mutters as you pump him quicker, squeezing more at the tip before going back down the shaft.

Jason slides a second finger into you, you letting out another moan. His palm brushes over your clit with every pump and it’s like a bolt of electricity every single time. Your breath hitches as you feel Jason smirk against your lips. His fingers curl into you further, gaining an eclectic moan from you and he loves the way your moans sound reverberating against the walls.

"C'mere." Jason mutters pulling his hand away as you let out a whimper from the lack of contact.

Jason grabs your hips and turns you around so you’re facing the wall. Jason lines himself up with her gaping hole as you place your hands on the wall for security. Jason slides in with ease thanks to your wetness and the water spraying down on you. Jason starts pumping into you softly and then firmly. Your moans grow louder. Jason grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling you up to him.

"Shh, don't want Bruce to hear." Jason's voice is graveled and you whimper, eyes rolling back.

"Jay." You let a quiet whine. "More."

There’s a snicker that falls from Jason’s throat and it’s rough and warm against your skin. Jason is nothing if not a tease in more ways than one.

Jason particularly likes these situations where he can get you to nearly beg him to fuck you. It sends his entire body into a lust-filled frenzy, taking all of his self-control not to completely lose it.

"What was that?" Jason asks, a snicker lingering in his voice.

Your voice catches in your throat, a whine falling from your lips as Jason's thrusts stall. You buck your hips back, trying to get more contact, trying desperately fill every part of you. Jason lets your hair go, gripping your hips tighter so you can’t move.

"I didn't quite hear you." He teases and you want to bite the smirk off his lips you knows he's wearing right now.

"More, Jay." You get out through gritted teeth. “Please.”

Jason chuckles, pulling out and slamming into you. "Anything for you, princess."

Jason pumps harder, fast, and deeper into your gaping hole and you can feel yourself about to unravel. Jason can feel it with the way your pussy clenches around his cock with every thrust. He reaches his hand down to circle your clit.

You let out quiet gasp before it turns into a near pornographic moan. Tears brim your eyes as the pit in your stomach grows thicker and heavier. Your body feels like it’s on fire while your hands almost try to grip the slick tile wall. Jason moves his free hand to your mouth, him still pumping eagerly into you.

“C’mon, babe,” Jason’s voice is low and raspy, hot and lust-filled. “Wanna feel you cum on my cock.” Jason nips your neck.

You mutter against his hand as your eyes roll back in your head, bolts of electricity ripping through your body. Your knees shake as your teeth sink into Jason’s hand. Jason lets outa hiss as his thrusts become sloppy and erratic.

He feels himself nearing his own orgasm and he quickly pulls out, spraying into the shower and down the drain. His chest heaves as he hangs his head, the high lingering around him as you turn around. You offer him a lazy and lust-blown smile. Your breathing is ragged but you do adore him with every piece of you.

Jason’s pupils nearly cover every piece of green in his eyes but there’s a delighted and tender smile on his lips. You watch his chest rise quickly, the water highlighting every raised and toned muscle on his torso. His hair sticks slick to his forehead and there’s just something about him that makes you feel alive.

"Can I wash your hair?" You ask bluntly and Jason lets out a booming laugh.

He looks back at you, brows raised. "Really?"

You shrug. "Yeah, of course. I like your hair." There’s a wide, toothy smile on your face as your eyes are hopeful and lively.

Jason shrugs one shoulder, a delicate smile pulling his lips up. "Sure." He chuckles before washing his hands under the water.

The next morning rolls around and you make sure you’re up earlier than usual, before Jason. It's his birthday today. You wanted to make sure you could grab his presents and be back in his room before he wakes up. So, you’re quiet and careful getting up and heading to your room.

You grab the wrapped presents you have hidden under your bed and then you head back to Jason's room. When you get back, he's stirring awake so you hide the presents behind your back before getting back on the bed, sitting on your knees.

"Morning," Jason says groggily but he's got this lazy and tired smile that makes you melt.

He's so confused. You’re smiling and the morning sun peaking in through the curtains is kissing your skin in just the right ways. You look so beautiful. But you are never up before he is, not when it's not because of a nightmare. Yet, here you are, smiling and beaming and he can't even imagine why.

"Good morning, happy birthday, Jay." You bounce slightly on your knees and Jason lets out a tired laugh.

"Thank you." He shakes his head, grabbing his phone from the charger and checking the time. "You woke up early for that?"

"Yes." You nod your head once and you feel the nervousness flood your veins. "It's your birthday, of course, I did."

"It's not a big deal." Jason lets out a scoff and his birthday has never been a big deal. He was lucky if anyone even remembered besides himself.

"Yeah, it is." You state confidently. "I got you some stuff." You safe softly as Jason sits up.

"You fucking got me something?" Jason questions, trying to figure out when you would have done that and how.

You give him a shy smile, reaching behind you and grabbing one of the presents. "Of course, I did." You hand it to him and it's wrapped in metallic red wrapping paper and Jason can't help but think it matches his suit. You did it on purpose.

He takes the gift softly from you and you watch him nervously, waiting to see if he likes it. Jason's heart stops as he opens a first-edition Frankenstein that's in a clear display case box. He looks to you with wide eyes and he never expected this. He doesn't own first editions. He's never asked because he's so worried he'll ruin them but you wrapped it in a box for a display. How the hell did you even know that? And he's only read it to you once and you knew it was one of his favorites.

"A first edition?" There's a softness in his voice as if he's unsure how to react.

You nod softly. "I asked Bruce for help but yeah." You reach behind you and grab the other one. "Here."

After dinner a few weeks ago, you followed Bruce into the living room to ask for help in getting Jason a few things for his birthday. You hate even having to ask but you knew nothing about getting first editions of books or money to get those first editions. But, Bruce was really nice and actually seemed happy to help.

"You didn't have to." Jason shakes his head, his grip on the case light, careful not to smudge it.

"I know but I wanted to." You shrug your shoulders softly and you think he deserves the entire world.

Jason shakes his head and opens the next present. This time, it's a first edition of Pride and Prejudice wrapped the exact same way and he just doesn't know how you knew that. How you knew these two books and also to put them into display cases. No one's ever paid such close attention to the things he likes, besides Bruce.

"Another one!?"

"I know you really like those books. You're a fast reader but I see you with Frankenstein and Pride and Prejudice often enough to know you really like them. And they're two of the books you have two copies of." You point to the corner of his room where he has his bookshelf. "Also...uh....there's more." You say with hesitance and you reach behind yourself, grabbing two thick sheets of paper and you hand them to him with shaking hands. "I made those for you."

Jason's entire face softens as he looks over the first one. It's like a scrapbook page, like what you showed him to do. But this one has what looks like torn pages from Frankenstein, his favorite exerts and quotes. There are pictures from the movie and Jason just blinks at you before moving the second one. This one is the same but for Pride and Prejudice and he is so confused but he feels so important and he can't even begin to understand it. He just doesn't know how you knew all of that about him without him ever having to tell you.

"How the fuck did you even know?" Jason's voice is breathy. "My favorite lines and shit?"

"When I saw you had two copies, I looked in them and saw you annotate one like a fucking nerd," You give him a smirk. "So, uh, I did not destroy a book. I just used Photoshop and made the book page images using your quotes and stuff you had underlined and had notes next to.” You explain, the nervousness growing in your stomach because you can't tell if he likes them or not.

"Why would you do all this?" His brows are pulled in a tight line, no smirk or grin across his face and you’re thinking maybe you overstepped.

You know you both cross the friend boundary all the time. A part of you wants to stop saying you're just friends when someone asks at this point. But, you are and you’re wondering if this was too much. But, he means the world to you and he struggles with himself. You just want him to know he's important to you, everyday.

"Because you're my favorite person." You suck in a breath. "And this is the day the earth was blessed with your insane presence." You laugh softly. "You deserve it."

"Thank you." Jason looks back to the pages and he thinks this must have taken a lot of time and planning.

He thinks this must have been something important to you to make because you don't show anyone your scrapbook stuff. But, you made this for him. He's not sentimental, but he swears he'll hold onto this for the rest of his life.

"Do you like—"

"Yeah! I fucking love it, thank you, I'm serious. I'm gonna frame these ya know?" Jason lets out a soft laugh, giving you a teasing grin.

You feel heat running over your cheeks. "I'm glad you like them, Jay."

Jason scoots closer to you and puts his hand under your chin. "Thank you." His voice is soft before he presses a kiss to your lips and you want to live here forever. His birthday might be your favorite day of the year.

"How do you remember all of this shit?" Jason pulls away, scanning your face.

"Because it's important to you." You state so casually and Jason is so shocked he can't find any words. It's as if it were the easiest sentence you ever said. "It matters to you so it matters to me."

That feeling in his chest is back. It’s coming at him in full force like a wrecking ball. Banging and pounding against every bone in his body. He’s sitting down but he swears his knees are weak and his head is foggy. His chest is on fucking fire but the only thing he feels right now is a tender and comforting type of warmth.

"Thank you." Jason pulls you into him and kisses you again and he thinks this is the only thing he wants to do for the rest of his life. With you.

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series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

A/n: I promise I’m getting to the angst lol But because I know what I wrote for that and what I have planned, I’m giving you guys a lot of fluff on purpose lol but I’m excited to get there which is why I’m combining chapters lol

Tag list: @fairyofshampoo // @italiana-20 // @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @mayfieldss // @ghostkingblake // @im-done-with-this-im-out // @velvetskies // @lilylovelyxo // @cryinghotmess // @yesimwriting // @vivian-555 // @anthemabby // @baebeepeach // @legend-o-zelda // @harleycao // @somehow-lovable-trash // @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx // @deyja-the-duck // @jasontoddslover // @captainmarvels-blog // @totallynotkaibiased // @scarlovesyou

#jason todd x reader #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #titans fanfic #titans fanfiction #jason todd x yn #petrichor #jason todd smut

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kendrene · 1 year

Note

oooOOOOOOH how's about avatrice with "You’re so warm.” ?? :)

The paper is thin under the pads of her fingers.

Ava smooths it flat against the surface of the table, holding it there. Presses hard enough she can feel the ridges of the old wood through it, where age and neglect chipped the paint job away. Her thumb catches against a deep groove. Some past accident. The table meeting a knife.

She pushes down harder. Her fingers, her hand, all the way to her elbow it’s just one big ache. She aches all over today. Then again, she hurts all over most days. Her free hand scrambles past a stack of unused paper for the pencil she’d let go to shake off a cramp. It skidded far across that sea of white and Ava is forced to stretch, bow over the table in order to grasp it. The motion tilts her halfway out the chair, which rolls back; Ava shifts her hips forward and sets herself back to her task.

The book she's copying words from is the one Bea had gotten for her second-hand the first and last time they were here. The apartment is the same too, down to leaking pipe beneath the sink Beatrice still hasn't figured out how to fix.

It's Ava who's different. And everything else that has changed.

In the textbook, rows upon rows of German words and phrases march alongside their Portuguese counterparts. It had taken several tries for Beatrice to find it, days of scouring flea markets in the small towns nearby. Sometimes alone, most often with Hans.

“It’ll be easier to learn if you build up from your native language.” She explained after Ava had pointed out an English to German book would have worked just as fine. It had been. Easy.

Except now it’s hard.

Today’s lesson is about the items used in the kitchen. Der Wasserkocher, Ava writes diligently, eyes flicking to the battered red tea kettle sitting on the stove. Der Ofen, she adds on a whim. Even though it isn’t in the book, she knows the German word for stove.

She’s about to write down the word for dishwashing detergent, which is long winded and sputtery both in letter count and in sound, when another cramp hits.

This is the worst one so far. It starts at her fingers, trailing up from her hand to the hinge of her wrist in increasingly powerful waves. Ava’s entire arm seizes. She watches her hand contract like it isn’t her own. Clench, release, tighten, release. The final shock has the pencil tear a hole through the last, half-written word, then snap against her palm.

Ava sucks in a breath at the sting. A sharp fragment of wood scores in her skin. She wills her hand to relax so she can take a look at the damage, but it’s an impossible ask, as though her internal wiring has been cut. Ava thinks about her fingers uncurling, face fixed in a frown. Thinks about it so hard she makes herself dizzy. Her hand stays exactly the same, and droplets vivid red, more viscous than ink, patter down on the page.

The rest starts while she watches the droplets expand. Ava knows, logically, that she’s not bleeding that much. Wherever she looks, though, she sees red. Red kettle, red microwave, old red radio on top of the fridge.

Ava closes her eyes, or maybe it’s her vision that crawls dark at the edges. There is a shift, a tilt to her axis, and the next thing she is aware of is her cheek, bruised, pressing against linoleum warmed by the sun.

“Ava?” Beatrice calls, voice uncertain, from what could be the opposite side of the world. “Ava I heard a noise. Are you —?” Ava blinks hard. Next to her, one of the chair’s rear wheels revolves slowly. “Ava?” Beatrice again. Closer. “Do you need me to — oh.”

Strong hands cup beneath her armpits. Lifting, pushing, pulling away. Ava’s world spins with the faltering speed of a merry-go-round that’s finally come to a stop, and she finds herself propped against something that is, at once, solid and soft.

“Hey.” Beatrice’s lips are pressed to the shell of her ear, mouth half slanted in the hair behind it. “Ava, I think that you’re having a panic attack. I’m going to put my arms around you now. I don’t want you falling again. Is that okay?”

Ava just nods.

She feels as battered and old as this house, where some things are broken and others don’t work like they should. Her body isn’t even her own anymore; she’s along for the ride, but doesn’t control it. Walking and running — something as stupid as writing. She can’t seem to be able to consistently do any of it anymore.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Beatrice’s arms wind around her middle and she’s rocking the two of them gently, back and forth, in time with the sobs Ava hadn’t even realized are shaking her shoulders. “It’s alright.” One of Beatrice’s hand worms its way under her shirt, to the spot where the Halo sits heavy and idle and so very cold. “Just breathe with me. Do you think you can do that?”

Beatrice takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. “Like so. Now we do it together okay? On my count. One. Two —”

On three Ava opens her mouth. The first breath is torturous, like pulling in air through a straw. It doesn’t help that her nose is runny and clogged, and that the hand she lifts up to wipe it only makes it as far as her chest.

“Here.” Beatrice’s fingers guide hers around a handkerchief she must have had in her pocket, then help Ava bring it to her nose. The fabric is the kind of soft that comes with a lot of washing and the pattern — Ava thinks it was once a herd of stylized galloping horses — is pretty much gone. She blows her nose, and the next breath she takes comes a bit easier.

“Better?”

“I think so.” Her voice still feels off, as if she’s speaking a language she doesn’t quite know. Ava fights down another sob. “I don’t know.”

“Okay.” Beatrice scoots them backwards so that they’re further away from the table and fully sit in the sun. Ava watches her legs trail along; she’s starting to regain a measure of feeling, and with it comes the pain from her fall. It will be a while until they can move, longer until she can heave herself up on the wheelchair on her own. If she’s lucky, tomorrow will be a good day and she’ll be able to walk. If she’s lucky.

Lately, she’s not been very lucky at all.

“Have you heard of the 3-3-3 rule?” Beatrice asks, breath a warm wash against the side of Ava’s throat. Her hands have never stopped moving. One splays over the Halo, steady and grounding. The other covers Ava’s nerveless fingers, thumb tracing the network of veins at her wrist, that look bluish-black in the sun.

“I know the 5 seconds one.”

Beatrice snorts. It tickles.

“That’ll do. Can you tell me three foods that you like then, Ava?”

Ava frowns. She’s starting to come back to herself, and with her mind clearing up and the fear wearing away it’s easy to see what Beatrice is doing.

“I know what you’re doing.”

“Then humor me, please?” The hand at her back pauses, and a hum rises from under Ava’s skin in response. It’s nothing. It’s nothing. The Halo has barely kept her alive as it is. Ava tries not to get her hopes up. She did at the start, after she came back through the Arc, and it was a big disappointment.

She can’t afford to get hurt that way, not again. She wouldn’t survive.

“Ugh, fine.” Afternoon sunlight, buttery smooth, streams in through the window, coating the entire world gold. “Mint chocolate chip ice cream.”

“You have horrible taste, but go on.”

“Tacos al pastor.”

“Okay, I can get behind those.” The hand on her back travels lower, following the ridges, the dips of her spine, and Ava feels it again. The tiniest hum, a buzzing. It’s almost a sigh. “What’s the third food?”

“You.”

The hand falls away. Beatrice’s arms around Ava tighten. Chin hooked over Ava’s shoulder , she rests her head there for a beat, face naturally tilting into the space between collarbone and jaw like a comet unable to resist a planet’s orbit.

“Ava.” A flash of heat spreads across Ava’s back, and she can’t tell whether it comes from the Halo or if Beatrice is blushing.

“What?”

“I just —” Bea smiles against her shoulder, plants a kiss there. “I’m not very nutritious, calories wise.”

“True.” Ava twists around in Bea’s arms, makes herself comfortable there. Given a choice, she’ll stay like this for the rest of the day. “But you’re tasty.”

Beatrice clears her throat. “We should get you off the floor.” She suggests, deflecting. Her gaze cuts away to the floor, and she swallows. Ava will never tire of it, of how even the slightest flirting will have Beatrice in knots. Of how she’ll swallow, cheeks suffused red, pulse racing, near visible, under the cut of her jaw.

“Wait.” Ava digs in, hand gripping the front of Bea’s light pullover. She sways forward and in, and her lips brush on purpose right at Bea’s throat. Her heart pounds so fast Ava can taste it. Or maybe it’s her own. “Can we stay here a while longer? You’re so warm.”

Beatrice pulls back to look at her, mouth quirking into a bigger smile.

“We can stay here a while.”

“Die Schwester” Lilith has picked up Ava’s textbook after dinner and is making her way through some words, mangling them all.

“Your German is terrible.”

“My German is perfect, thank you very much. It’s simply accented.”

“Whatever. Give me my book back.” Ava braces one elbow against the wheelchair’s armrest and stretches up, the other arm fully extended. Lilith puts the book down, just out of reach.

“I’m so gonna run you over.”

Lilith scoffs. “And how do you plan to do that?”

“We’re in the Alps. I’m going to wait until you’re on an incline, then let gravity do the rest.”

“Sure.”

Lilith phases. Reappears behind Ava a second later to help her closer to the table where Camila and Mary are setting the pizza they ordered for dinner on plates.

“Why are you learning family vocabulary anyway? You and Bea are pretty fluent already.”

“I’m not.” Ignoring the plates, Ava grabs for the box of pizzawitheverythingonit nobody else has the stomach to touch. The first bite is delicious but hot. Ava juggles the food in her mouth, speaking around it. “I have the best family ever already.”

Everything’s changed.

Nothing is ever the same.

Ava will not walk today and she may not walk tomorrow. But as the sky fades to black and they crowd on the old couch, fighting over whose turn it is to pick a movie, Ava thinks change is alright.

#warrior nun #avatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #ava x beatrice #I have to do the positive disabled!ava representation around here #dren writes

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panelshowsource · 9 months

Note

could you make a post about all the books from comedians you own/have ordered and which are your favorites I want to buy all of them but don't know where to start ++++++++ would love to know if you know of a way to order a signed copy of David's book if I don't live in the UK

you know, in a stroke of what may be relevant information, i'm actually an editorial director by day and even used to be a literary agent here in nyc — none of which is obvious on account of my billion rushed typos and...just...general existence :) (i promise i'm supremely carefully handed in my editing!!! and have a lot of resources, at my job hahahahaha oh god maybe i shouldn't have mentioned this!!!) — but i'm really no book critic and have no idea how my tastes stack up against what a lot of you are looking for. i'm happy to share some of my general, poorly articulated internet thoughts but it may be more worth checking out goodreads or talking with others who have more experience with autobiographies (which a majority of these types of books are)!

to begin with a disclaimer, one of my friends texted me recently, "why do you only watch sad movies?" i love sad films, sad music, i love to cry, catharsis, sentimentality which is always a little self-indulgent. it's a bit ironic, because this is a comedy blog and you guys know me as someone who loves to find things to laugh about and i fill my life with so much silliness through his huge, life-long hobby, but, all the same, that is only one side of me, i guess. i'm saying this now because you're about to hear me talk briefly about a few somewhat-to-incredibly sad books and be like "oh i didn't know this what i was getting into" 😅

books i do recommend:

just ignore him by alan davies — this isn't a book review but i am self-conscious about just how i describe this book, because it's so sensitive and i carry a lot of respect for alan. at the time of publication, alan actually didn't want any of the press to know and/or discuss the most tragic elements of the book, so readers wouldn't be influenced in any direction before confronting it themselves. (it's okay to talk about now of course, and anyone should know there are major trigger warnings for death, child abuse, sexual abuse, and pedophilia.) it is a sad book about his earliest years: the complexities and nuances of male power and manipulation, of unimaginable loneliness, of a lost child. alan said it wasn't cathartic to write—that is was indeed very painful—but the vulnerability, the commitment to shirking himself of the painful silence he endured for most of his life, is exceptionally moving. alan's writing can be quite thorough, even flowery, in creating vivid places and images, so so much of the heaviness feels piercing and even disturbing. if you read other comedians' books, a decent majority of them are written in the style of standup or, say, a ted talk — with performance in mind, specific structures and beats that mimic how they'd tell these stories on stage. i would argue this is quite different to that, that while the writing is in a style and structure that benefits being read aloud this is a very different alan to alan the performer. and, very honestly, i'm really not an audiobook person, not to mention listening is a wholly different experience to reading — but the audiobook for this is phenomenal: alan narrates and, while of course it's his story so he'll tell it best, he is a very gentle, thoughtful storyteller. this will be you by chapter 4:

moab is my washpot + fry chronicles by stephen fry — the first and second of his three autobiographies covering some of the most sensational times (stephen is willing to admit) of his childhood and teen years + his rise to fame through the cambridge footlights. these are good reads for 1) stephen fry fans duh and 2) people who can enjoy the inspiration of auden, waugh, wilde, wodehouse, quintessential english writers who inform the foundation of stephen's relationship with literature and appreciation. stephen is painfully honest — and often sorry for it, apologising for what he perceives to be his shortcomings — and you can't help but feel, even early on in the first book, that his view of his own world is somehow even more subjective than everyone else's views of their own worlds. maybe it's because he's so judgmental, maybe it's his oscillating mental health, maybe it's the shocking thrust with which he was confronted with the wideness of the world...i'm not sure, but stephen's life through stephen's eyes is so very stephen-y. i think that's why we love him‚ though i can see some people loathing the less admirable sides of him, which he does show, so don't read this if you want to maintain some image of him that helps you cope or keeps you perfectly entertained. if you're not british, the fry chronicles is an especially good read to scratch some of your anglophilic interests (lotsss of namedropping and backstage chat)!

delicacy: a memoir about cake and death by katy wix — one of my recent faves and another book that isn't thoroughly funny. told in 21 vignettes either centered around or vaguely related to cake, katy talks about her school life, grief and loss, self-esteem and body image, misogyny — in ways that are just...matter of fact...opposed to lessons learned or things she's working on through therapy. she's accepted a lot, but she's also afflicted by a lot to this day; she's capably honest about where her reality stands. for this reason, it can be a bleak and certainly very raw read. i listened to the audiobook for this one, which was nice, but i much recommend the actual written book as the vignettes are in different formats (short story prose, letters, email exchanges) that often anchor time and place, intention, even the little peeks of light of comedy. katy's writing is very lovely, both my heart and mind were touched.

back story by david mitchell — a mildly vulnerable, moderately insightful, and quite humorous exploration of david's up-and-coming years. i really appreciate the premise — due a bad back and sciatica, he begins taking very long walks every day, and these walks trigger memories and anecdotes as he passes certain places — that really doesn't come off as a gimmick. it's a very easy read (or listen) and what i'd consider an uncomplicated, unproblematic bio, but it would be difficult to enjoy if you're only a casual fan of david mitchell or only like him in his most recent dad years, as it was written in his peep show heyday and is so much about those years of his life, his relationship with robert webb, etc. a good intro-to-the-genre book and the very first britcom book i read way back in 2010!

i also really enjoy graham norton's books — especially for the goss, but he's a great writer and his debut fiction novel got quite good reviews! — and tim key's books of poetry, though you really need to be a fan of tim key to read tim key :')

books i do not recommend:

before & laughter by jimmy carr — this book is much less of an autobiography (details are scant and anecdotes are few; it's cute when he refers to karoline as "my girl") and much more a collection of 1) jimmy's interpretation of contemporary comedy and what it means to be a comedian, and 2) how that journey, and his evolving attitudes, shaped him + became advice he would offer to others. this is why he calls the book adjacent to self help & motivational speaking. i don't think it teaches you anything new about him — literally or as an writer — so i don't recommend reading it, though the audiobook (where he's truly performing the writing like a ted talk) is an easy listen. a lot of people will not understand that jimmy is overwhelmingly sincere in regards to all of the topics and personal philosophies the jimmy nearing 50 espouses. he's someone with very studied, thorough personal philosophies (if you've seen him on podcasts talking about his life and career then you'll know just what i mean) and he explains them deftly, but they can feel a bit...how should i say this...flat to people who have heard a lot of it before, in hollywood movies or from their own parents or wherever. he didn't write this just for another stream of income — he is passionate about these conversations and that counts for something. overall i already knew a bit about the guy and didn't need this.

my shit life so far by frankie boyle — i have never read one of frankie's fiction novels (crime is really not my thing, so someone needs to let me know if richard osman's book series is a smash because i'm only going to check them out if i'm convinced to), but as a long-time fan of his, knowing how much of a wordsmith he is, and how intentional he is in everything he says, i was surprised by how dull i found this. his shit life was just that — uninteresting, meandering. his anecdotes may have worked better aloud than on paper, but they didn't grab me. you learn a bit about his young adulthood, but like jimmy he's intensely private and i could feel that distance between us even while reading an autobiography. it didn't work for me, super sad about it :(

can everyone please calm down? by mae martin — instead of criticising this book, i'd rather just make a disclaimer or two. if you are already engaged in queer discourses and dialogues, you are not going to learn very much from this book. both the descriptive writing and presentation of research is "accessible" to the point i'd call it more adjacent to YA than adult literature; if you prefer more creative, complicated, and/or signature writing styles, this book is not for you. if you are a big fan of mae martin and would appreciate an overview of their journey on the identity spectrum (going so far as to even rejecting it, in some capacities) in one place, then this may be convenient — but even then, at this point, it's somewhat outdated. imo a well-intention skip.

phil wang and tom allen are two more i think don't convince me with their writing, but i'm still making my ways through a couple of books and could probably talk more about this later!

i have never made this kind of non-fiction bio a priority on my long reading list, so i still have a lot of exploring and catching up to do, but i'm finding that i do prefer the books that explore the events of comedian's past as well as those that walk the reader through experiences in the comedy & tv industries. there are a lot of books about mental health and identity, which may be more of what many of you are looking for (sara pascoe, fern brady, jon richardson, and more).

okaY PHEW SORRY i always type too much 😒

first, as for david mitchell's new book, you can order it signed from waterstones as they ship to the usa — and it's currently half off!!!!! if you want to buy it unsigned from a usa retailer amazon is cheapest and target & bookshop are the cheapest non-amazon options :) an audiobook is coming out as well, so i do believe i will be able to add that to googledrive before too long, but no guarantees on a good time frame!

you can go here to download any of the ebooks & audiobooks i have on my googledrive!

#a #long post

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booksteaandtoomuchtv · 7 months

Text

Witchy Woman (7/10)

0.5 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | AO3 | 8 | 9 | 10

LOOK AT THIS STUNNING ARTWORK BY @cocohook38

Summary: When Emma came into her position as Storybrooke Coven Leader, she ended things with the powerful Vampire Overlord, Killian Jones. She’s spent over a decade working alongside him and ignoring the growing tension between them.

During his best mate’s wedding, Killian decides he is done waiting. He is ready to have his mate back in his arms (and bed) again. Emma is not an easy woman to woo, but Killian has never backed down from a challenge.

When Emma’s jilted ex-boyfriend returns to town and Emma goes missing, Killian will stop at nothing to get her back and ensure that nothing can ever separate them again.

Rating: E

CW: Mention of domestic abuse, blood and blood drinking (vampires), threatening situations, minor violence, death, mention of parental death

Entry for Captain Swan Supernatural Summer 2023 (@cssns)

Tag: @anmylica, @deckerstarblanche, @elfiola, @goforlaunchcee, @jrob64, @kmomof4, @pirateswhore, @stahlop, @teamhook, @tiganasummertree, @undercaffinatednightmare, @xarandomdreamx, @zaharadessert (let me know if you want to be added or dropped)

Lifting her gaze from the seemingly endless lines of tiny, irregular text in front of her, she let her eyes rest on the sight of the gorgeous vampire studying a similarly old and yellowed text. He toyed with his pen, cleverly manipulating it between his fingers, as he read unaware she’d stopped her own research. Her heart almost hurt as she took in features too perfect to be real, his cheekbones had been carved by a particularly gifted angel doing their best work, the perfection of his jaw was highlighted by deep amber scruff, and his eyes were the deep, rich blue of a clear winter sky.

He was focused, his tongue running under this sharp canine as he read. His fangs weren’t elongated now as they’d been when he ran them along her neck this morning. He had held her tight, thrusting deep into her, as she rocked against him chasing her pleasure. The scrape of his fangs had sent shivers straight to her core. The memory crept up on her all morning in vivid detail while they worked distracting her completely from the dull, ancient texts.

Emma heard so many things about the bite from a vampire. Connections between vampire pairs and vampires and their mates were deepened by the bite. Some claimed it was the most intimate connection any supernatural pairs could share - and werewolves could communicate telepathically with their mates. Most who were bitten by vampires agreed it was the most pleasurable experience they’d ever had - some even became obsessed, addicted to the bite. Emma wondered how enjoyable it would have to be to cause people to stalk vampires, seeking another hit of the venom. Older vampires were said to cause more pleasure. Killian was one of the oldest she’d ever heard of. What could his bite do to her?

“Does it really…” Emma felt her face heat when those stunning eyes looked up to meet hers. The intensity of his gaze heated her more than the question she had started to ask.

“Does what really what, Swan?” His voice was hardly more than a rumble. When he took in the deep blush blooming on her features, his lips quirked up in a heartbreakingly beautiful smile.

“Your bite, does it really enhance things?”

“Enhance things?” Killian’s eyes danced with humour. He clearly knew what she was asking and was enjoying her embarrassment entirely too much.

“Never mind,” she snapped and returned her attention to the book before her.

“Do you want to know what a vampire’s bite is like? Because you can read that in any of your many books on the subject.” Killian asked keeping his voice in that low villainous timbre. His eyes were rolling with that starlight of magic. “Or, are you asking what my bite, specifically, would do to you?”

“What would make your bite different?”

Killian’s gaze flicked away as he chewed over his next words. He turned his attention back to her and hesitated for a moment - his tongue wetting his bottom lip followed quickly by his teeth grazing over the spot. Why is he nervous?

“If I were to bite you, Swan, I believe it would transform our relationship completely.”

“Because you’re such a powerful vampire and I won’t be able to stay away from your allure after one bite?” Emma teased.

“No. Because when a vampire bites their mate, he gives her more of himself. You would see memories some memories as with most bites, but you would also know what I am feeling so long as my venom is in you. Since you are a witch, I expect there would be some exchange of our powers. I’ve heard powerful conduits,” he looked at her pointedly before continuing, “share an even deeper connection with their mates after their bond is solidified in this way.”

“You believe that I am your mate?”

“I know it to be so.”

“How?” Her voice was hardly above a whisper. “Don’t you have to taste my blood before you can be certain?”

“When your blood is fresh, I can smell it.” His cheeks were rosy at the admission as if it were something embarrassing to admit. “The night before you ended things, you had cut your hand while we were cooking together.”

“You’ve known all this time?” Emma murmured. “We’ve wasted all this time?”

“What’s a decade or two when you live forever?” He answered with a smile before adding softly, “For an opportunity to hold you again, I would have held out hope for us until we both ceased to exist.”

Tears pricked at her eyes. How did she come to have a love like his? Of one thing she was absolutely certain, she’d spend the rest of their infinite lives showing him that he was loved just as deeply and unconditionally as he loved her. She’d prove to him that his faith in them, his hope over all this time apart wasn’t wasted.

§§§§ §§§§ §§§§ §§§§

The Supernatural Gala held on the first night of the festivities was, Emma was certain, a form of torture banned by several governments. The dress that Anna had produced for her to wear tonight clung tightly to her form. She supposed it was fashionable and exquisite in its own right, but it made her skin itch and she felt a bit like she was playing dress up with her mum’s clothes, wanting to be the elegant grown-up that the finery suggested she should be.

Anna had transformed the dated ballroom into a scene that rivalled something from the Fae Courts. The high ceiling had become a clear night sky, twinkling with stars. The old wooden columns had been transformed into large, sprawling trees that reached toward the night sky. Their trunks were wrapped with cloth that shimmered as if it were woven from moonbeams. Flowers with petals so deep a blue that they might have been black bloomed on some trees, while others were filled with leaves the colour of freshly fallen snow. Music from an orchestra that Emma could not find drifted into the room and muted the conversations between guests. A few couples were dancing to the music, their movements impossibly complex and graceful. Most of the guests were standing in tight groups exchanging hollow pleasantries while they sipped endless glasses of wine.

“Amphitrite would envy how well you wear her waters.” Killian appeared by her side with a glass of wine and the warmth she hadn’t realised she was missing until his arm was wrapped around her waist. His perfectly tailored suit was the same fathomless blue as the ocean at night kissed by the moon, the same colour as her gown, the colour of his eyes when they darkened with need.

Emma rolled her eyes at him - as if his words and his muscular legs in those tight slacks didn’t affect her - and she plucked the glass out of his hand. She leaned into his side and he tightened his hold, his hook resting on her hip. She sipped at the wine gratefully before resting her head against his shoulder. “I hate these things.”

“I know, love.” He pressed a kiss into her hair. Emma adored that he didn’t press her further, didn’t try to convince her these were fun or necessary events, and didn’t brush off her comment with a dismissive, “It isn’t that bad.” Rather, he stood by her side making the whole stuffy night more bearable with his steady presence (and the wine - of course).

He took the empty glass from her hand and set it on a nearby table and offered his hand to her. “What do you say, Swan, would you dance with me?”

Emma smiled, laying her hand in his. “Why not?”

“That’s the spirit.”

She followed his confident movements in a complex dance that many of the other guests seemed to know the steps to as well. She knew the music must indicate the moves that were expected of the guests, but it all sounded like background music to her.

“It’s a waltz,” Killian murmured, answering her unasked question.

“Of course, you know how to waltz.”

“Mum was fascinated by balls and masquerades,” Killian spoke softly as he led her in a series of turns and complex steps. “She told Liam and me these fanciful, romantic stories of men and women falling in love as they danced together in ballrooms filled with magic and wonder. She danced with us, her little princes, humming the songs that she overheard from the ballrooms she was never invited into.”

The sadness behind his eyes at the memories tugged at her heart. She wanted him to know that he was not alone any longer and she was glad he’d shared such a precious memory with her. She wasn’t quite sure how to tell him just that, so she pulled him close to her, interrupting the graceful movements of the dance to kiss him.

He kissed her back as though she were the only thing that had ever mattered.

A cloud of white haze surrounded them, magic swirling, gently pulling and twisting until it wrapped them up tightly and transported them away from the noisy gathering. Killian raised an eyebrow when he saw the familiar walls of his bedroom surrounding them. Emma smiled back at him with a mixture of pride and mischievousness on her features. “That’s quite a trick, Swan.”

Smile still in place, she wiggled her fingers and his jacket and shirt were tossed carelessly onto the floor. He pulled her to him and kissed her again, nipping her bottom lip and soothing the sting with his tongue. She moaned lowly as his tongue tasted and teased her. He swallowed her moan. “You taste divine.”

“You’ve never tried a bite,” Emma teased.

Killian tensed in her arms. “Emma?” The emotion behind that one word cracked his voice as he searched her features for an answer to a question he didn’t dare ask.

“I want you to.”

“You’re certain?” He kept his eyes focused on hers, ensuring there were no traces of doubt or hesitation hidden somewhere in them. “Once we do this, we can’t take it back.”

Emma lifted to her toes to place a chaste kiss on his cheek. His stubble was rough on her lips, but it made her smile. Everything about this moment felt right. Her magic hummed and stirred around them as if it, too, agreed she was making the right decision. The fear she expected to accompany this decision was notably absent. Instead, she was filled with a pleasant hum of anticipation and an absolute certainty that this was going to be a wonderful thing for them to share. “I want to be yours in every way, Killian. That includes the way that vampires are together. I want you to mark me.”

“As you wish.” His voice was more growl, more vampire than she’d ever heard it before. Excitement spread through her - her chest and cheeks flushing a deep red. “You look absolutely delicious when you flush like that for me.”

Quicker than she could track his movements, he was behind her unzipping her gown and dragging his lips along her neck. The gown flowed to the floor, pooling at her feet. Killian sucked in a breath at the sight of her naked before him.

“So bloody perfect, Emma.” He told her as he carried her to his bed and laid her down almost reverently. He tugged off his trousers and pants in a quick motion. He kneeled before her. “I love having you laid out before me with your cunt dripping.” His warm breath flowed over her sensitive flesh, pulling a moan from her. “I haven’t even touched you yet, love.”

“Needy witch.” Then, his tongue was on her. He ran the flat of his tongue slowly up her slit, savouring the taste of her. He nipped lightly on her clit before licking and sucking at her folds again. He slipped two fingers into her, stroking her and building the tension up, while he sucked at her clit. Her hips lifted from the bed, desperately trying to reach her peak quicker.

“Impatient little thing,” he admonished softly, pulling his head away from her as retribution for her trying to take control. He trailed kisses along her thigh, smirking at the whines and curses flowing from her at his cruelty. She grabbed his hair and pulled him back to her centre. A low laugh escaped him, vibrating against her clit in the most wonderful way, and he returned his full attention to pleasuring her with his clever fingers and tongue.

He twirled his tongue around her clit in a motion that made her buck against him once again “Fuck, Killian.” She could feel him smile even as he continued devouring her. His rough stubble provided her with additional friction carrying her even closer to the edge.

The tension was almost too much, the release a moment away, when he sunk his fangs into her thigh. Warmth spread through her as he drank, she felt like she was floating away, a blissful haze welcoming her as she shattered around his fingers.

Pictures flashed through her mind, moments Killian had captured and held dear of them working together of her smiling at him of the yearning he’d felt over the years. Something deep, something eternal flooded her system as he smoothed the wound over with sweet kisses, murmuring praises into her skin as he watched her intently as if he expected her to regret it.

The words rushed out of her before she could think about it and stop them.

“I love you."

#cssns23 #vampire!Killian #witch!Emma #Emma x Killian #Emma Swan #Killian Jones #Captain Swan #CS AU fanfic #CS modern AU fanfic #OUAT AU fanfic #inspired by Stay A Spell #ouat captain hook #killian x emma #cs fanfic #once upon a time #ouat #cs ff #art by cocohook38

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sequinsmile-x · 7 months

Text

Antithesis

Emily goes to dinner with her mother and, as always, is left feeling off-kilter afterwards. It's a good thing she can go straight to see her Hotchner boys as soon as it's over.

-x-

Hi friends!

This fic is very much sponsored by my insomnia and the absolute devil of a cold I have picked up from somewhere. I feel like a reanimated corpse, but my brain came up with this so here we are!!

Please do let me know what you think, comments and reblogs have more healing powers than any store bought decongestant or lozenge.

-x-

Warnings: None

Words: 4.1k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“Daddy, I want some water.”

Aaron stops himself from smiling as he turns to face his son, his eyebrow raised as he looks at Jack. He was standing in the hallway in his pjyamas, a dazed and sleepy look in his eyes that he’d spent the better part of the last hour trying to deny. He knew exactly what his son wanted, what he was putting off sleep for, and the thought of it made him smile, the love his little boy had for his girlfriend warming him from the inside out.

It had been six months since their first date, since Emily had kissed him on her doorstep after he walked her back to her apartment. The date had been her idea, an edge of nervousness to her voice he’d never heard before when she asked him after dinner one evening. It had become normal for them to spend time together just the two of them and Jack, the friendship between them that would have once seemed unlikely something that was precious to them both. He found himself grateful that she was infinitely braver than he was, that she was the one who had willingly taken that first step towards what they had now.

He loved her and she loved him and even though they were only six months in he knew she was it for him, his future laid out ahead of him with a clarity it hadn’t had in a long time. Her presence in every step of it brought it to life in vivid colour, everything he once thought he’d never have again within his reach.

“I’ll get you some water, buddy,” he says, standing up and walking over to the kitchen to get one of Jack’s cups to fill with water, “But you need to go back to bed.”

Jack sighs as if he has the weight of the world on his shoulders, “When will Emily get home?”

Aaron once again finds himself suppressing a smile. She didn’t live with them, not officially, but she spent most of her time at their apartment. His wardrobe now had her suits lined up alongside his, the nightstand on her side of the bed had the book she was currently reading and her favourite hand cream, and the caddy in his shower had more products that belonged to her now than him.

“After you’re asleep, she’s having dinner with her mom remember?” he says, walking over and placing his hand on his son’s back, guiding him back towards his bedroom, “But she’ll be here in the morning when you wake up.”

He knew his girlfriend would be tense, to say the least, when she got back from dinner. Elizabeth was the one person who managed to successfully crawl under Emily’s skin every time without fail, aware of how to get to her daughter with a level of skill that was Olympic worthy. He’d offered to go with her, to be silent support at her side, but she’d simply shaken her head at him, smiling softly as she reminded him that would only make things more complex.

Elizabeth still didn’t know about them. Emily had tried, and failed, to tell her mother about her relationship more than once during the last six months. For one reason or another, she hadn’t been able to, always changing her mind at the last minute. He knew it had nothing to do with him, that it wasn’t because she was ashamed of him or their relationship, but because of how tenuous her relationship with her mother was. It had never been what she wanted, he knew that, but since her fake death, things had only become more strained. He felt responsible for it, his decision to save her life by ending it pulling at an already threadbare mother-daughter relationship, so he let her take the lead, happy to be waiting at home with open arms when she was done.

Jack pouts as he climbs back into bed and Aaron places the water on his nightstand, “But I miss her,” he complains, “She’s better at reading to me than you are,” he says as Aaron tucks him back in, “She does all the voices.”

Aaron is sure that on some level he should be offended by his son’s insistence that Emily was his preference in an increasing number of situations from story time to who looked after him when he was sick, but he couldn’t bring himself to be. Any time he watched them together he’d be overwhelmed by his hopes for the future. Images of a big house they could all grow into together and another child or two, as stubborn and as beautiful as their mother, sure to keep him on his toes for the rest of his life.

“Well she’ll be here all weekend,” he says, kissing his son’s forehead before he pulls back, “She can read to you tomorrow.”

Jack nods, any response giving way to a yawn as he snuggles further into his bed, “Night Daddy. Love you.”

“Love you too,” he replies, kissing his forehead again before he pulls back and stands up, leaving the bedroom as quietly as he can.

He does some chores to kill some time, excited for Emily to come home, to be back by his side where she belonged.

___

Emily sighs as she parks her car, her eyes closing as she switches off the engine. She leans forward and presses her forehead into the steering wheel, the leather of it cool against her skin.

It had been a long evening, the minutes feeling like hours as she sat in her mother’s company, wishing more than anything that she’d taken up Aaron’s offer to come with her, even if it would have initially been difficult to explain to Elizabeth why the man she only knew as her daughter’s boss was there. She sits back up and grabs her phone from her purse, shooting a text to her boyfriend before she gets out of the car and locks it, walking towards his apartment building with purpose.

Just parked up outside. I hope there’s wine.

She smiles softly as she enters his building and walks towards his apartment, the place that feels more like home than her own apartment. She knows it has a lot to do with the company more than anything else, Aaron and Jack very firmly the centre of her world, both of them providing a level of comfort and safety she thought would always pass her by. At this stage, she was just riding out her lease at her place. Using it more as storage for her things that she hadn’t brought over here yet, well aware that when her lease was up she’d be moving in officially with the Hotchners, whether that was here or in a place they bought together.

Sometimes she wondered if she should be worried they were moving so fast, that they were only six months in but they’d discussed finding a place together already, but she knew he was it for her. That they were. It was strange to think that not too long ago her future had been so unsure, all the dreams she thought she’d never seen realised lost and broken on a cold floor in Boston, but now it was clear, laid out in front of her in an orderly fashion that would have once terrified her.

Her smile widens when she spots him standing in his doorway, his hands in his pockets as she approaches. She speeds up, walking faster for the last few paces so she can stamp a kiss against his lips, her hand cupping his cheek as she deepened the kiss on his doorstep.

“Hi,” she says, kissing him again, feeling some of the weight that had gathered on her shoulders all evening start to ease the moment she’s near him.

“Hi,” he replies, his arm around her waist as he guides her into his apartment and closes the door behind them. She balances her hand on his shoulder as she takes off her shoes and he steadies her with his hands on her hips, “How was it?”

She sighs as she sinks into his embrace, her face buried in his shoulder as she breathes him in, letting the scent of his cologne, of him, ease the tension in her chest that just a few hours with her mother had caused. If Elizabeth was the one who knew how to tie her up in knots, looping her anxieties back around each other with a deftness that only the person who had planted the seeds there could, Aaron was the one who untied them. He’d taken time to learn how to, using his expertise of her to unpick every stitch with a level of care and love she would have once not realised he was capable of, his tenderness something that still took her by surprise on occasion.

“I told her about us,” she murmurs, her words muffled against his t-shirt. Aaron holds her closer and runs his hand up and down her back as he kisses the top of her head.

“I’m guessing based on your general demeanour and the faint smell of cigarette smoke on your jacket it went perfectly?” He quips, and she pinches the back of his neck, narrowing her eyes as she pulls back to look at him, well aware that she’s failing to suppress the smile that his dry sense of humour had pulled out of her. He cups her cheek and stamps a kiss against her lips, turning her in his arms as he removes her jacket for her, “Come on,” he says, his hand linking with hers as he tugs her gently towards the couch. She smiles at the two glasses of wine already laid out on the coffee table, and she finds herself wondering what she had done to deserve him, “We can either talk about it, or we can watch one of those shows you like with all those rich women yelling at each other.”

She chuckles half-heartedly as she settles onto the couch, “I want to talk about it,” she says, surprising herself with the admittance, “I just…I never know how to.”

He kisses the side of her head, “Just start wherever feels right, sweetheart.”

She nods as he passes her one of the glasses of wine and she takes a sip of it, her head resting against the back of the couch as she swallows, “Well, as soon as I arrived I realised what she was up to,” she says, tilting her head to look up at him, “Why she was so insistent that dinner had to be today.”

It was something that had been bothering her ever since her mother had called and invited her to dinner, her demeanour and tone over the phone enough to let Emily know she didn’t have a choice in the matter.

“Why?” He asks softly, placing his hand on her thigh and squeezing reassuringly, “What happened?”

She blows out a breath, “We weren’t dining alone,” she says tightly, sipping her wine again, “She’d invited her friends and their recently divorced son.”

Emily knows that he’s picked up on the implication, what her mother had intended for the evening when his grip on her thigh increases. A sense of possessiveness in his touch that makes her smile, his jealousy unfounded, totally out of place when she considers the fact if he moved his hand up just a little higher he’d be pressing on bruises he’d sucked into her skin just the night before.

“She did what?” He asks, trying and failing to keep his voice even, to hide the irritation licking at his insides. Emily simply smiles up at him and places her wine glass down, her hand coming to rest over his on her leg.

“Apparently, she thought it was about time that I settled down,” she replies, rolling her eyes as she speaks.

“What did you say?”

She smirks, “Oh, I’m already engaged to him,” she quips, her smile turning to a smirk as he half-heartedly glares at her, “I thought this was the best way to tell you.” She adds, and he rolls his eyes and leans in to kiss her, fast and hard in a way that steals the breath from her lungs. She chases his lips when he pulls away and she smiles as he raises an eyebrow at her, “I told her I was seeing someone.”

She often wondered what it would be like to have a relationship with her mother where she was one of the first people she wanted to tell about a change in her life. She didn’t know how it felt to want to call her mom when something good happened, or when she needed comfort. Elizabeth had never been her first port of call, her presence neither reassuring nor the safety net Emily had often hoped it would be. It was a lesson she’d learnt when she was young, when she’d stand in front of her mother’s desk after a nightmare, her hands clasped around her childhood teddy bear as she was told she was old enough to put herself back to bed, Elizabeth’s eyes barely looking up from her paperwork.

“She acted a little affronted, made a joke to her friends that I never tell her anything,” she says as she shakes her head, “And then followed me to the bathroom after we’d ordered our drinks and told me I was being rude,” she scoffs, “Like I’m 17 or something, not 41 and entirely capable of making my own life choices.”

He squeezes her thigh, his thumb running back and forth over her exposed skin, “What did she say when you told her that I’m the one you’re seeing?”

She clears her throat and rests her head on his shoulder again, “She said it’s inappropriate, and made some comment about how I never learn from my mistakes,” she blows out a breath and tightens her hold on his hand as she says the next part, well aware it would pull a reaction out of him, “She brought up Ian.”

He goes tense, a mix of guilt and disgust at the comparison swirling in his gut, making nausea climb up his throat as her words settle over him. “Em…”

“I made it very clear what I thought about that, honey,” she says, sitting up so she can see him properly, her legs swinging over his lap as she shifts closer, her smile soft when he wraps his arms around her, “You know it’s not the same, that you’re nothing like him, right?”

He sighs, his hands firm on her lower back as he hauls her impossibly closer. He had to admit that there were similarities between him and Ian that sometimes made his skin crawl, their joint assurance that their motivations were righteous, their need for revenge against the one person they saw as being at fault for tearing their lives apart. There were moments when he felt like they were two sides of the same coin, opposing forces that were pulling away from each other.

“I know,” he says, leaning into her palm as she rests it against his cheek, “I do know that,” he repeats, not sure which one of them he’s trying to reassure more, “I understand why your mother would be hesitant though,” he says, kissing her palm as he turns his head, “I am the one who called her and told her you’d died.”

He knows he’ll remember that call as long as he lives, the silence on the other end of the phone, the regret palpable. He could give Elizabeth some leeway when it came to that, well aware of how he would feel if he lost Jack, but his understanding only went so far. She’d been given a second chance, a miracle of sorts that others could only dream of, and she still hadn’t seemed to learn anything, still taking any chance she could take to belittle her daughter and the choices she made.

“I told her how happy you make me,” Emily says, pushing her hand through his hair, scratching at his scalp with her nails, “And I told her how much I love you,” she smiles softly at him as she cups the back of his neck, “I don’t think it went in, because she then spent the better part of the evening trying to talk up her friend's son, who by the way cheated on his ex-wife with a hooker,” she says, her eyebrows raised in derision, “But I said it.”

He sees through the humour she’s tried to inject into the conversation, sees right through to the girl who still wants her mother’s approval even after a lifetime of never quite getting it. He kisses her and then pulls her into a hug, her arms as tight around him as his were around her.

“I love you too,” he says, his lips against her cheek as he speaks. She nods and holds onto him tighter, her hand grasping at his shirt.

“I just wish she could be happy for me,” she says, pulling back just enough to look at him, her smile sad, “That doesn’t feel like it’s too much to ask.”

“It isn’t, sweetheart,” he assures her, kissing her softly, shifting to kiss the tip of her nose afterwards, smiling when she scrunches it up as he does so, “You deserve that and so much more.”

She hums, “I just hope if I ever get the chance to be a mom I can be happy for my kid, no matter what. That I’m the person they want to tell everything to, not someone they have to announce their relationship to in a busy restaurant with a potential suitor at the table.”

Her eyes go wide as she realises what she’s said, her words slipping past the vault she’d locked them in. She almost hates him for a moment, hates that he’s able to lull her into such a sense of safety, of security, that he’s broken open all the boxes she’d stuffed all her hopes and dreams into long ago. Easily opening all of them up with the key she’d willingly handed him. Any panic, no matter how brief, is put out when she sees his smile, wide and slightly goofy, something she can’t help but reciprocate.

She smiles at him, but any follow-up is cut off by a door opening and snuffling feet, and they both turn to see Jack standing behind the couch, his eyes wide and shining and his favourite toy, a stuffed cat that Emily had bought him, was hanging from his hand.

“Jack,” Aaron starts, his admonishment light, his son’s bleary eyes and bright red face a sign that he’d had a nightmare, “Is everything-”

“Emily!” He exclaims, running over and barely giving them enough time to separate from each other just enough for him to wedge himself between them, curled up in Emily’s lap with his back against his father’s chest, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, sweetie,” she says, smiling softly at him before she looks up at Aaron. They exchange a look and she turns her attention back to Jack, running her fingers through his hair to try and flatten it, “You should be sleeping though.”

He rests his head against her chest and tightens his hold on her, confirming both Emily and Aaron’s suspicions on why he was awake, “I had a bad dream.”

She holds him closer and runs her hand up and down his back, “I’m sorry, sweet boy,” she says, kissing his forehead, “Do you want to go back to bed or stay here with me and Daddy for a little bit?”

He grips the material of her dress even tighter, “Stay here.”

Aaron smiles at the sight of them together, well aware that the embrace he was part of was just as much a comfort for Emily as it was for Jack, the two of them able to seek from each other what life had either never given them, or torn away too soon. He drops a kiss on each of their foreheads and slips out from under them.

“How about I make us some hot chocolate,” he says, watching as his son’s eyes brighten up immediately, “And then we’ll sit here for a little while until you’re ready to go back to sleep buddy.”

Jack nods and curls up even further into Emily’s embrace, settling into the warmth that seemed addictive to both Hotchners.

Emily smiles up at her boyfriend as she runs her hand up and down Jack’s back, “If you slip some whisky into mine I’ll make sure to say thank you later.”

He swallows thickly at the way she winks at him and he nods, walking towards the kitchen as he continues to listen to their soft conversation.

“You saw your Mommy tonight, Emily?” Jack asks, his small fingers idly playing with the necklace she is wearing.

“Yeah,” she replies, smiling softly at him as he rests his head on her shoulder to look up at her, “I saw her for dinner, it’s why I wasn’t here when you went to sleep.”

Jack nods as he looks at her intently, a seriousness to his gaze that was all Aaron and never failed to make her think of the same expression on a baby that was half her and half him, the thought alone enough to make her stomach flip.

“Is she scary?” He asks as he yawns, his body getting heavier in her arms.

She chuckles as she pushes some of his hair out of his eyes, “Why would you ask that sweetie?”

He shrugs, the movement lethargic, finding enough comfort in her arms that he was already halfway back to sleep, “You look sad, Emily,” he says, yawning again, “You never look sad, so she must be scary.”

She chokes on a laugh, the logic that only a child could come up with making her words lodge in her throat, “She’s a little scary,” she says, hoping it would satisfy his sleep curiosity, “But I’m okay now, I’m back home with you and Daddy.”

Jack hums, clearly more asleep now than anything else, and he rests his head on her shoulder, “Love you, Emmy.”

She presses her face into the top of his head, breathing in the scent of his shampoo, of the innocence that still flowed from him despite everything he’d already been through.

“Love you too, sweet boy,” she says, kissing the top of his head. She looks up as she sees Aaron approaching them again, only two hot chocolates in hand, clearly having realised his son would be asleep again before he was finished. He places them both down on the table and sits next to his son and girlfriend.

“I can take him back to his room if you want,” Aaron says, his hand resting over one of Emily’s on Jack’s back.

“In a minute,” she replies, looking at him before she looks back down at the little boy in her arms, her love for him as overwhelming as it was wonderful, “He’s fine right here.”

He hums in agreement before he settles his arm around her shoulders, pulling them both into his side, “I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

She looks up from Jack, her eyebrows pinching together in confusion, “What do you mean?”

He smiles and kisses her, careful not to crush his son between them, “About what kind of mom you’re going to be,” he says, holding her face in place with his forefinger curled under her chin as she tries to look away, her cheeks pink with embarrassment, “From where I’m sitting, you’re already an amazing one.”

She presses her lips together to stop herself from smiling too widely, to give herself something to focus on so she can try and stop tears from pressing at the back of her eyes. She doesn’t know what to say, words failing her as she lets his settle over her, enveloping her like a warm blanket.

Instead, all she does is lean in to kiss him, hoping that the press of her lips against his, the feeling of Jack asleep and content between them, lets him know just how much he means to her. When their lips meet she can taste the hot chocolate he must have sneaked a sip of in the kitchen, the sweetness of it mixed in with the whiskey she’d asked for, and a chaser that tastes an awful lot like forever.

-x-

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aleksanderscult · 5 months

Text

Analyzing "Demon in the Wood" (book) - Part 4

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 and Part 5)

Happy New Year and many blessings to you all!! 🎉🎉🎆🎆

This is my first post for 2024 and I couldn't wish for a better one to share ❤️

Not Annika helping him with his weak Fjerdan 🥹🫶😭

He's so excited about the fact that he gained new friends, so hopeful and thrilled with this new turn of events. But he can't help but worry about his mother's reaction once she finds out what he did to Lev.

What if she gets angry?

Or worse, what if she takes him away from here? From the place he found happiness and company after months (or years) of loneliness and melancholy.

This shows to me an extensive anxiety and fear of the prospect of losing everything (again). Losing his friends, his home and his hope. He's so desperate to grab and hold tight this new opportunity that he gets intimidated by his thoughts of his mother and her anger.

Imagine hating your fake name but then growing fond of it because it sounds so good coming from someone you like.

So let's get down some notes 📝

- He doesn't like northern food

- He doesn't like onions

So he probably doesn't like cold foods (cold soups, for example) and bitter ones either.

This is so sad. No one had ever asked him what he liked to eat best. Not even his mother😭

She probably shoved any food under his nose, said "Eat it" and that's it.

Not that I expected for them to eat luxuriously but, man, they've travelled in all those places. Passed in front of many markets. Hadn't she ever thought "Hey, what do you like most from these?"

(also both me and Aleksander having a sweet tooth like 🤝)

He wants to tell those things.

"Oh yeah, I tried that cake once. It was awesome!"

"Those candies were *chef's kiss*"

But he can't. His mother's instructions are clear. "Don't talk about our travels, what we've seen and done. Lie about your life."

So he lies and he only reveals the truth by talking to himself internally. 🥲

In a nutshell:

Eryk: "I like everything"

Eryk internally: *gives a vivid description of a cake he once ate and an accurate number of how many cherries were on top. also starts remembering those dope candies he once ate in Shu and fell in love with*

Would love to gift him ten boxes of those Shu candies but I think he would be capable of eating them all in a day and then would lie on the couch and suffer from a stomachache or something 😭

One of the best quotes in the whole Grishaverse, if you ask me.

His love for bright, vivid colors contrasts the nature of his power and it's something beautiful and telling of his character.

"Deep blue like the True Sea" = Etherealki keftas

"Red like the roofs of the Shu temples" = Corporalki keftas

"The pure, buttery color of sunlight - not really yellow or gold, what would you call it?"

Alina. It's Alina, Aleksander.

Alina was his favorite color. His light and his favorite shade of yellow.

He was destined to fall in love with her and her power never scared him. Never made him leave or turn away. Because it reminded him of his favorite color and she represented it.

(so even though he could dress himself in vibrant yellow cloaks he chose black basically for the aesthetic and image)

Eryk: "Wait. That's awesome!"

"Do you want to tell me?"

PROTECT THAT BABY AND HIS KINDNESS FROM THE CRUEL WORLD

"My father is dust. You all are."

Baghra when I find you.....🙂🔪

He has already made his decision to stick with her instead of that bully. As a child he wasn't attracted to power or strength, but to compassion and kindness.

But he still has that insecurity that his mother will take him away.

(BAGHRA LEAVE HIM ALONE FFS!!!)

Random. But somewhere down the line after this passage, Eryk thinks "I'll have to tell her. What happened with Annika. That she knows I'm an amplifier".

And that shows me that his mother doesn't allow him to keep any secrets from her.

He could say "I'm not going to tell her anything. If I do she'll drag me away again. So no."

But he sounds like he has no choice. He HAS to tell her. So she's very strict with him in that aspect too and has him say everything to her.

He wants to belong. He hopes he will. Instead of travelling here and there, without any fixed destination.

"maybe even friends" HE'S SO SCARED TO HOPE FOR THIS 😭

"And friends went on adventures. They broke rules together"

He wants this SOO much!! To taste it and see how it's like. To behave like the child he is and be mischievous and carefree. To break his mother's rules ('cause he wants that too).

Just like he said in S&B: "The problem with wanting is that it makes us weak."

He wanted to have friends and play, gave in to that desire and eventually it compromised his safety. Therefore, made him weak and vulnerable.

(gonna make an analyzation of that quote in the future actually. So many things can be drawn from it as well)

#a beautiful way to start the year by having Eryk tell us how much he loves shiny colors #he's wholesome #demon in the wood meta #the darkling meta #ditw #demon in the wood #grishaverse #shadow and bone #the darkling #pro darkling #aleksander morozova #pro aleksander morozova #darklina #pro darklina #pro alarkling #alarkling #annika #sylvi #baghra morozova

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pathologicalreid · 17 days

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I love your writing!!! Was wondering how you decide what to write or like where u get ideas?

hi!! thank you so much!

this question is kind of a pandora's box tbh i have so many things that i take inspiration from

first and foremost: delusion. i am an avid day dreamer. i have a vivid imagination. i make up little scenarios in my head before i go to sleep. most of the time it's the one's that stick that i write up.

frequently i think of a line, usually character dialogue, and write it down and wait for inspiration to strike. i also get a lot of inspiration from other forms of media, usually tv shows and books and SONGS. i listen to so. much. music. music is how gemini/don't say nothing was born.

another one is when i learn about something and i want to put it into a fic in an attempt to share what i learned. i also have a friend who will send me social media posts for ideas.

and of course i get a lot of requests! using my writing power for good and encouraging the delusions of others. i have all of my requests in a spreadsheet and whenever i feel like writing and am not particularly inspired, i pluck one from there!

i hope this answered your question!

#yk that renee rapp interview where she goes “um. delusion.”?#that's me #margot's asks #anon #i love you

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thatlongspringnight · 2 years

Text

Shades of Red (Vamp!Jungkook x Soft bodied!reader)

Tagging: @wwilloww @hesperantha @reliablemitten @dntaewithluv @sunshinerainbowsbts @xjoonchildx @vyduan @miscelunaaa @starlostjimin @sugalaritae @sahmfanficbts

Pairing: Vampire Jungkook/Soft Bodied reader

Rating: M for mature ;)

Genre: Smut, fluff, romance, established relationship

Warnings: Smut, cunnilingus, female receiving, blood, vampire feeding, Jk is a whiny boy and we love him for it

Summary: There are very few pleasures in this world as great and lovely as riling Jungkook up.

Word Count: 2137 Thank you to my darling @miscelunaaa for putting your magnificent orbs on this when I needed you most. Thank you to AMC for putting out a new interview with the vampire series. And thank you to JJK for deciding to put out an entire VAMPIRE THEMED PHOTO SHOOT LIKE A MAD MAN.

How his eyes shine against the ruby of the silk, an apt choice—it’s a dark musing from your position, lounging opposite of him on the chaise, sipping from the darkened wine he says makes you taste especially … divine.

Only he would give into his vanity enough to buy silken sheets the same shade as his eyes. Languidly, you reach down to pluck a grape from the silver platter … purple. Then it was good you had worn the burgundy dress this evening.

Since he so ardently was attempting to adhere to a color scheme. Reds, blacks, the deepest purples—everything as vivid a warning as a black widow before she strikes.

Yet it’s you that is smirking as you drag your finger across your tongue, savoring the sweetness—another thing he likes … when you’re sweet.

Between the two of you, you’re truly the deadly one, even if he has the fangs.

He’s watching you, gaze shifting from alluring, a look you’ve come to know all too well … to something more along the lines of petulant, something you’ve also come to know all too well, and it pleases you, watching his well-kept nails dig into those silken sheets as you grab the book sitting on the marble top side table, opening it to the spot you left off on.

How he hates it when you do this, and you have to bite back a genuine smile, and the urge to laugh, especially when he sighs, trying to play off his frustrations as desire—when the only thing he’s desiring right now is your undivided attention.

“Is something wrong, dearest?” You finally acknowledge him when he sighs again, going so far as to unbutton the already scandalously low dip of his shirt. “Are you not entertained? Should I fetch you a book?”

“No, I have no need of—of literature.” His eyes are shining, and you can feel the pull of them. “Why should I bore my fingertips with parchment when they could be trailing your skin instead?” It’s bold, meant to elicit a reaction, to tempt you to him, into his arms like a willing supplicant.

“Your pretty eyes don’t work on me, Jungkook.” You feign boredom, licking your finger to turn the page, eyes barely even skimming the words. “As haunting and desperate as they are.”

“I am not desperate!” He whines, sitting up, grabbing a pillow to hug to his form. “I’m beautiful, a darling, admired by all—”

“And desperate for my attention nonetheless.” You quash him mid-sentence. “Perhaps if you come to me as a supplicant, if you offer yourself in worship to me maybe I’ll want to play with you, maybe I’ll give you some of the attention you’re clearly thirsting for.”

“Shouldn’t you be worshiping me?” Jungkook is crawling to the edge of the luxurious bed even as he talks. “A creature of darkness, of eternal life, of power and pleasures … aren’t I the god worth worshiping?” And you laugh, languid still as you shift in your seat.

“If you wanted to be worshiped, you would have taken up with someone else, but you’re here—with me.” And for a moment you let your voice soften, knowing that more than anything what he wants is your love, your attention, your reassurance of affection. “And not out there cavorting with your brethren.” His knees have hit the ground, expensive cloth dragging as he makes his way to you till he’s crouched in front of you, in front of the chaise.

“Will you let me touch you, then?” He asks, wide eyes shining as spectacularly as the most expensive rubies. “May I worship you with my hands?”

“With your hands” you agree. “And mouth.” You tack on. “Perhaps even your teeth if your prayers are fervent enough.” And he’s groaning at that, the prospect of your blood just as delectable as what you’re asking him to do. For he does love to worship you, every piece of your lively, mortal flesh.

And God knows you have quite a canvas for him to paint in his touch, ample flesh to grip till bruising, to litter in love bites. Dimpled skin perfect for his fingertips, as he often reminds you, eyes darkened to an almost feral shade. And at this moment, you know he’s going for a place he especially loves.

“Right for my thighs?” You hum, calling him out, and his firm grip on your stockinged calves. “That’s a rather rushed trip to the altar I’d say.” It’s a tease that has him pouting, resting his chin on your knees.

“Perhaps I just want to give special attention to a particular area that should be especially worshiped—”

“You could have the decency to take off my stockings.” You roll your eyes and he flashes you a sheepish little grin, one that reveals just a little snag of sharpened tooth. Then, of course, he’s obediently doing as he’s told, undoing the ribbons that rest just above your knees, holding up the expensive stockings, smiling at the soft shade of blue.

“I was beginning to wonder if you had truly forgotten yourself and come completely in red.” He murmurs, gently sliding off your shoes, touches feather-light enough to raise goosebumps against your skin. “As flattered as I am, perhaps I think you look sweeter still in blue.” Your favorite color, the same as the softest sky. “It reminds me of when we met.” Shoes forgotten on the floor, stockings now neatly folded, his strong hands knead gently against your calves, drawing sounds from you that already qualify as indecent.

“Such a lovely little wife you’d make,” you tease him. “Folding my clothes, giving me massages—”

“Worshiping you,” he huffs, lightly pinching your ankle, just barely. “... Though—if I had to be someone’s wife, I’d like to be yours.” He kisses at the inside of your knee. Just the smoothing of his lips over your skin. You know he longs to disappear under your skirts, to have at you like a man starved. But for now, he’s taking it slow. Resting one of your heels on his shoulder as he kisses your calf, dainty little smooches growing more brazen and messy the further he works his way up.

“Ah.” Now, you’re helping him, or maybe yourself, gathering the fabric of your skirts and pulling them above your knees. Giving him a fair view of what he already knows.

That you hadn’t worn anything underneath.

“Better?” you question, but he only hisses softly, surprising you with the glint of his fangs. “Not better … ?” You’re shocked, a hand coming to card through his hair. “I suppose I can toss my skirts over your head if you’d prefer.” And you pull his hair, tipping his head back. “Or nothing at all if you’re going to be rude.” At that the feral glint in his eyes fades, just a bit.

“I’m sorry.” He rubs his cheek on your thigh. Your legs already parted for him. “I got carried away, I was so focused … you startled me,” he admits, reminding you again, that as pretty as he is, he’s still a vampire at the end of the day … and could drain you dry if he lost control.

Well, not quite, you think to yourself, you always have some tricks up your sleeve. Still—it would be a thoroughly unpleasant experience that would leave him in tears, reminded of your mortality—and how fragile you are, and feeling guilty about his nature.

“Try not to bite the hand that feeds you.” You settle on, stroking his cheek gently. “I want to watch you.”

“Well what I want—” Jungkook says, as though he’s been asked. “Is for you to be naked. Completely so.” His hand is on your bodice, intention more than clear.

“Jungkook—” you warn. “This outfit is expensive.”

“And it’s too red,” he declares, like you hadn’t gone through the trouble of matching his aesthetic. “I appreciate how you look … in my bedroom, but against your skin it’s too much like blood.”

“Isn’t that what you want from me? My blood?” you ask, earning a very fussy looking frown.

“I want so much more than that, and you know that.” Jungkook’s eyes narrow, and you resign yourself, knowing you’ve damned yourself to nakedness with your teasing.

“Fine, my love, but I only brought one outfit,” you warn, which only makes him laugh.

“As though I don’t have clothes for you here?” Jungkook asks, raising an eyebrow, and there it is—the tear of cloth echoing in the room as he literally rips open your dress, and the layers beneath, leaving you bare and exposed in the darkened room.

“I hope you’re suitably proud of yourself,” you sigh, shrugging off the material as he grins happily from the spot he’s retaken on the floor. “Little demon.”

“I am.” Those strong hands are back on your legs, pulling them to part, so that he can sit between them, pressing a kiss to the roll of your stomach, rubbing his cheek against the soft flesh. “You’re so warm.” It’s pleasure, the sound on his lips as his hands go back to making indents in your thighs, as his head dips lower. “And here … so hot.” He has no sense of shame when it comes to your body. Seeking out the heat of your center, but still—still not giving you what you need, choosing instead to use his tongue for evil. To press kisses everywhere but where you want his mouth, his lips.

“Jungkook—”

“I’m worshiping you.” He cuts off your complaint before you can even make it. “Taking it slow just like you had foolishly requested.” Damn him for using your words against you, littering your inner thighs with love bites, promises of where he’d like to feed from you later on. Every so often there is a ghost of a touch to your core, tongue flicking against your clit, enough to set you on edge.

So you sigh, trying to feign boredom, going so far as to relax your body, lightly stroking at his hair. Humming a soft little tune that makes him grumble; his eyes meet yours, with an indignant sparkle.

“Hm?” And you’re grinning. “What’s that look for?” But he doesn’t say anything, shifting forward so—

Well … so he can give you what you want. Mouth around your pearl, and it’s hot, the way he sucks at it, his fingers coming to slide inside of you while you’re lost in the feeling of his mouth. “Ngh—Ah! J-Jungkook!” Now this, this is what you want, with his arms around your thick thighs, and your knees resting on his shoulders.

He eats you out like a man starved, and perhaps he is … starved of your attention from tonight’s teasing, eager to get back at you by tasting you on his tongue, by having you lose yourself to him.

Your grip in his hair tightens, your hips shifting to meet the thrust of his fingers as your eyes squeeze shut. He—he is skilled in your body, time has given him that, and he loves to learn. Every spot that makes you shudder, he’s found and memorized. Every way to crook his fingers and draw pleasure—

As he does now. And you don’t even bother to try and stifle the pleasured keen that leaves your lips.

He plays you like a musical instrument, like you’re his favorite piece—a song at its crescendo. Till you’re crashing around him, his name a dreamy sigh, as tense muscles slacken.

As he lifts his face up, mouth glistening with your essence. He is so beautiful, covered in the remnants of your pleasure, it makes you feel weak.

Weak for him.

“C-can I?” And before he can finish, you’re pushing his head down, letting him sink his fangs into your thigh—drawing a moan turned whimper from you, as a different kind of high takes over. That light, dreamy feeling—someone had once told you a vampire feed was like the most delicious opium, a soaked poppy dripping down your throat.

“Ah … Ngh … Jungkook—” And about the time you say his name, he takes the hint, quick to pull away, lapping at the wounds until the bleeding stops, until there is naught but bruised skin their stead. “Are you content ...?”

“You know I’m far more than that.” He’s resting his head on your thigh. And he rubs his cheek against your skin when you go back to playing with his hair.

“You’re right, you’re my spoiled little prince.” You are happy—happy at how he shifts to nip at your fingers, before wrapping his arms around your waist to hug you, face pressed against the soft flesh of your stomach.

“Still, at least I’m yours.”

“Mine to take to bed,” you promise. “Now. To destroy your sheets like you did my dress.”

#btshoneyhive #btswritingcafe #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook imagine #jungkook prompt #plus size reader #jjk fic #soft bodied reader #jjk vampire #jungkook vampire

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writing-and-art · 10 months

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#13

context: dazai, chuuya, teenagers and a poorly thought out study. (its just dazai being smitten, don't take this seriously. hes in denial)

Notes on Nakahara Chuuya - by Dazai Osamu

The slug is o’ so painfully human- it disgusts me how blind he is to it.

The first time Dazai had met Chuuya, he had been contemplating whether to try hanging himself again. The plans had been literally kicked from his brain with all the subtlety and finesse of one Chuuya Nakahara- which is to say, none.

Like most, Dazai had heard of soulmates. He’d read all the tropes- red strings, telepathy, timers, and colours exploding when eyes meet. Whilst he found the concept fascinating, he firmly believed it to be untrue. It was ludicrous- the idea of someone understanding you on such a visceral level; as if you were made for each other.

Lo and behold, enter: Chuuya Nakahara, science experiment extraordinaire and other half of Soukoku.

Dazai didn’t believe in such whimsical things like soulmates; he believed in Chuuya though. Chuuya, and the colours he bought with him.

“You ought to drink more milk,” Dazai told him, and held back a grunt when kicked in the face.

And that was how it started.

Then came Rimbaud, and then Verlaine. It was a shitshow. Chuuya saw his friends die. Chuuya saw his clone die. Chuuya got tortured. Chuuya, Chuuya, Chuuya.

Despite his near perfect memory, Dazai, for the death of him, wouldn’t be able to recall what he had said to Chuuya in regards to the chance of finding out his humanity disappearing. All he remembered was the blue and brown of his eyes- eerily vivid, almost glowing, as if the singularity powering him was shining through.

‘Eyes are the window to ones soul,’ Dazai had once read. He still stood by it years later, when he was clad in brown and missing a few bandages.

Ever the bleeding heart, not fighting wasn’t even a choice. Dazai didn't make it a habit to underestimate people, but Chuuya had always gone above and beyond.

Roaring winds, trees ripped out from the ground, and death. It was enchanting, in a distant, detached sort of way. Oh, it was all very dramatic of course. Ever benevolent, Dazai figured he would refrain from mocking the other, just this once.

Two singularities, beings of mass destruction and very little else.

Throughout it all: Chuuya.

Dazai had caught him. The shorter boy’s mangled and grotesque wings had disappeared in a flash of blue and the red lines marring his body faded, leaving blood and broken bones behind in its wake.

How anti-climatic, he had mused, holding the shorter’s body in a way that didn’t aggravate his wounds.

Dazai wasn’t blind, he could see parallels. He also wasn’t an idiot, and figured that whatever happened to Soukoku, Dazai do something as inane as turning himself into a singularity. No, they would die together.

Later, sitting beside a certain someone’s bedside and flipping through a book without absorbing much of anything, Dazai would ponder the limits of humans. It would be a very entertaining train of thought, full of witty comments made by himself, to himself. That would be later, of course.

In the face of the aftermath and the responsibilities that came with it, Dazai was content to dump his workload onto Hirotsu and entertain himself with hearing the beating heart of his much detested partner, annoying him in his sleep by fiddling with the other’s hand and messing up his hair.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #writing #bsd writing #bsd chuuya #bsd dazai #soukoku #skk #chuuya nakahara #nakahara chuuya #dazai osamu #osamu dazai #dazai chuuya age fifteen #bsd stormbringer #dazai x chuuya #but not really #look theyre just kids okay #please notice how i word certain things #theyre either deliberate or im bad at english

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sushywritez · 1 year

Text

In Your Dreams | Eddie Munson X Fem!Reader

Summary: You seem to be unable to keep your boyfriend out of your subconscious. Leading to some wild dreams in which you keep written in a journal.

This is loosely based on an idea I had for my own dreams. On occasion I had several dreams featuring my significant other and found it odd but interesting. So, why not use it to create something fun and lighthearted.

Enjoy!

The forest floor was surprisingly damp beneath your feet, droplets of dew dripped from the leaves. Rays of sunshine poked theigh the treetops and warmed your skin. In the distance a rumble of steps could be heard. You take shelter in the bushes and vines, because much like most creatures you were a sacred part of its being.

Being a fae the responsibility of caring for and communicating with was imperative. Maintaining the balance between humans and the mythical was a task unlike any other.

Humans were greedy, power hungry, and unforgiving. Of course, that's only what is told. Now seeing them up close is life-changing.

"Shall we take shelter here, my liege?" One of the men, all seemingly gathered along in a lone, had spoken up. The supposed leader, the black mare in front, hopped off his ride, grunting as his boots hit the ground.

"I should say so." He nods. Dressed from head to toe in armor, minus the leather boots. His long dark curls cascaded down from his head flowing with the wind. From your hiding spot you make out more than just his form. "This clearing makes for a good camp, perhaps we may continue in the morning?" He had these soft brown eyes and expertly crafted face, he was the prettiest human you'd ever seen. Not that you had seen much of them in the forest, they saw it as dark and mysterious.

Over time you had learned both his name and title. Sir Eddie, one of the bravest knights to come out of Saint Hawkins. He's led countless of his men towards victory against the much darker forces outside the castle. The outskirts of the forest even your kind dare not venture into. Eddie had been sent out on scouting missions before, but this was the first time you noticed he was alone.

Eddie quickly snapped the small book shut and took a deep breath. "Holy shit.." He sighs, chest puffing out and shoulders slumping. He looks over at your sleeping form, the way your lips twitch up into a smile and the soft breaths as your whisked away into your dream land. He hadn't meant to discover your 'Dream Journal', it was by complete mistake, stumbling upon it when going through the drawers looking for a pair of sweatpants when he found it.

To say it was flattering was one thing. To him he felt honored, that your mind would still think about him while asleep, not many nights he was able to dream such vivid things less remember them. He tucks the book back underneath the folded clothes and shuts the drawer. He'll just have to keep checking up on you and your dreams.

The very next morning you awake to an empty bed. Eddie had already gone for work, it was often early he'd be called in and it was truly sad.

Yet he always made time for you in and out each day. Today was nothing new, as you threw back the blankets and turned to climb out of bed you noticed a card on the nightstand. Smiling forming as you reach out to grab the card and open it.

Good Morning, Angel

I saw how peaceful you looked sleeping so I couldn't be bothered to wake you up and say bye. So I wrote this note instead. I hope you slept well and had sweet dreams, I made you some pancakes before I left they just need to be heated up. Thanks for looking out for me as always, Angel.

I love you

Eddie Munson.

TAGLIST

@yaspillz @dahliamae @capricornrisingsstuff @aysheashea @e0509 @off-phelia @strangerthingsstories5255 @fujiihime @puppy-coded @damon-loves-pie @seratoninsickness @k0urti @thatlonelypieceoftoast @phantomxoxo @wittlewowa @rollergirlworldwide @allithewriter @gothguitargal @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @ali-r3n @harrys-tittie @yearwalker96 @lipglossanon @thepastdied @jessevans @dullsocietyy @littlelimb @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @3rriberri @corroded-hellfire @munson-blurbs

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson stranger things #x reader #eddie munson x f!reader #dreams #dream scape #dream scenario #dream eddie #elves #fantasy #eddie munson fluff

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dynamic-k · 4 months

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Me me has a quetions :3 when did you start writing and where do your ideas come from?

-BK

Ooh, that's a tough one.

Hmm. Well, I know I started getting a like for writing in the 3rd grade. I'd done some random school two-paragraph assignment and Mrs. Meusen, my lovely teacher whom I still remember to this day, had returned everyone's papers with our grades.

And she liked to write custom messages along with the overall score and stars.

She told me in her little markered note at the top of my paper, that my writing was well structured and I make a good author. Something like that, I don't remember exactly how it was phrased, but it was a compliment to my writing.

I have no memory of what I wrote, though. It wasn't significant.

That was probably the first jump-start encouragement I got, though how it affected me in the future was probably subconscious for the most part. It's not the driving force that I remember on a regular basis as "Ah, yes, this event here is what started it all."

That long ago compliment just came to mind when I really started thinking about what the answer to your inquiry was.

My ideas just spawned into existence from my imagination. I was always the kid that found immense joy in reading books and also staring off into space. The wall. The ceiling. Out a window.

I once got lost in space during my 2nd grade Spanish class, while we were doing TESTS.

And I was lost in space, not really looking at what I was looking at... Well, I was apparently looking at someone else's test, lol. Got scolded. XD

My dreams were often the source of cool ideas also. I had entire MOVIES worth of action and everything. Sleeping was always a well anticipated privilege...

I wonder why. 👉👈

I remember my very first fanfiction was written for a comic series, Mega Man by Ian Flynn.

Cool robots, action, adventure, fights, suspense, a whole assortment of my favorite types of things to enjoy from any media, be it novel, comic, or movie.

It was... really bad. My family tells me it was good for my age at the time. The ONE friend I randomly decided to share the old google Docs with also gives me positive feedback, but... ehhhhhh.

There's reasons I haven't continued it further for years. It was pretty bad, in my eyes. I definitely had so much fun writing it though. It was a self-insert, sort of? But with an OC that had cool characteristics I just liked. Not really me, but a character that was an amalgamation of ninja skills, smarts, and powers. And was very much, as the term goes [that I would learn about just a few years later], a "Mary Sue". An overpowered character.

At least, my character still had a plethora of issues, and as the story progressed, I found ways to insert Nora [the aforementioned OC] into problems and lessen the overpowered aspects a bit.

I learned from that work. A lot.

I guess, if anyone is really interested, I can post the links to the old docs. I don't suppose I mind all that much, though I'm warning you all. I ATTEMPTED ROMANCE.

AND IF YOU ALL KNOW ME AND MY CURRENT HABITS... YOU KNOW I SAY ON A REGULAR BASIS THAT I CAN'T WRITE ROMANCE.

It was written by 13-year-old Scarlett. She doesn't exist anymore.

I think I somehow got off topic, why am I talking about my first fanfic...

Anyway!

I wrote a lot of other stories also.

I had originals.

I had fanfics. [My hyperfixation on Beyblade Metal Fusion remains dormant to this day, but I still remember all the ideas I never wrote down yet]

I had dreams that I attempted to normalize and remove dream-weirdness from for story material.

I had school assignments that were fairly tame as far as action, but I kept the docs anyway.

And then I tried to publish stuff.

[By this, I mean, on the Archive. I had technically posted fanfiction before on fanfiction.net but we don't talk about those abominations...]

I was in a Lego Monkie Kid hyperfixation at the time, and was currently on the cliffhanger of season 4. [Before the special came out, I mean.]

And I had a very very vivid dream scenario one night, where my brain decided to imagination its own ending and wrapped up plot for the cliffhanger of season 4.

I decided to post it. And I still have more ideas that I have yet to sort out and add more chapters to the fic, but that was the first published work on the Archive, I think.

And... it was romantic focused, actually. The one OC was a character that fit well into the series, and wasn't just an annoying rendition of overpowered characteristics. (I TELL YOU. I LEARNED FROM "NORA")

And, well, my dreams are good at imaginating romantic scenes. It's just my brain doesn't know how to make it sound good with words yet.

I'll get there... 😅

To get back to the point I seem to keep deviating from as I reminisce over older works and my author journey as a whole: I have come very far.

My first Alan Becker fanfic, was A Second's Tale. Which, until Super Sticks appeared, remained my most popular fic.

It started so SO simply. All I knew was, "NEW HYPERFIXATION GO BRRR!" and "I wanna write a fanfic and post it"

Then it escalated.

The AVA/AVM fandom is still my all-time favorite, and I think it's honestly going to stay that way forever. It's definitely the longest fixation I've ever had.

All my others are dormant, or active in spurts. I have a list of like, 60? 65? fandoms I'm into, lol.

Uhm, anyways, yeah.

That's the summary.

Man, that's another thing I suck at. Summarization.

Look at this long schpiel of words!!

No one gonna read this. XD

TL;DR

I have come far from the 3rd grade.

I still aim to make a difference. Make someone's day with my weird unique sense of humor. Make others inspired. ;]

And my imagination go brrrr for ideas. Dreams are just the best thing ever.

Thanks for coming to my ted talk--

#Ask Scarlett #CURSORS ABOVE I WROTE A FULL BLOWN ESSAY FOR THIS--