#remember 1 hour ago when i was looking for other things to gif besides get back | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fandomtherapy44 · 7 months

Text

Klaus x reader

Summary: This story is from the perspective of Y/n Marshall the younger sister of Hayley Marshall. Side note I love Hayley one of my favorite characters. Basically Y/n will be pregnant instead of Hayley and I will be changing some things up but then that it should stay pretty close to the series. I hope you enjoy the story! Also, if you like I have a Castiel x reader.

Paring: Klaus x reader

Word count: 3,341

Warnings: Some language, Typical the Originals violence, Spoilers for season one of The Originals, Pregnancy,

I got the divder from

saradika

Chapter 1: Always and forever

POV: Y/n

New Orleans is the heart of Louisiana known for its live music, food, and apparently family history, well at least for my older sister and me. We came here to learn more about our parents but the few weeks we've been here nothing zilch but some tasty gumbo that lately I have had a strong hunger for. “Third time in here this week.�� Jane-Anne said, placing down a steamy bowl of gumbo in front of me.“I'm obsessed with the gumbo, Jane-Anne.” I said to her grabbing my spoon and lifting a huge scoop into my mouth while my sister Haley was nursing a bourbon.

“You know, ladies in the 9th ward say my sister, Sophie, bleeds a piece of her soul into every dish.” She said referring to her sister who was cooking in the kitchen. “We’ve asked around the Quarter about my family......” Haley started to say. “And?” Jane-Anne questioned. “Nothing. Zero. we can't find a single person who remembers them.” I finished throwing my spoon back into the bowl. “Because Hayley, Y/n people like you were run out of here years ago.”

“What do you mean, people like us?” Jane-Anne walked around the bar to the other side to stand beside us. While Sophie watched us. Jane-Anne stetted a map on the bar. “In the bayou, they call the werewolves "Roux-Ga-Roux"”. She circled a point on the map. “You head out there, you'll find what you're looking for. Be careful. It's the last place you'd ever want to go.” Haley and I smile in hope that maybe we will finally find something. I order my gumbo to go, and we thank Jane-Anne and leave.

Haley and I are driving down the road and I'm giving directions while she drives. “Okay now take a left...” I said while looking down at the map not sounding very confident. “Y/n the map is upside down.” “Oh, he he I mean right.” She sighs as she hard turns right. “It’s like the mountains all over again.” “Hey, it was not my fault that the map was outdated.” “It was GPS N/n” “Well still the phone was-” As I started to talk, I suddenly started to feel sick. “Haley pull over now.” She pulled the car over and I jumped out puking out all my lunch. “Uhh what the Hell-” And there goes breakfast. “Maybe it’s all the gumbo that you ate when it’s been sitting in the car for two hours.” “Maybe it’s the gumbo y/n shut it, Haley. I was hungry… again.”

We finally arrive at the bayou and look at the map to figure out where we are. “So, we are here and-” As I held the map the paper got hot, and it became on fire. “What the-” I threw it out the window. Haley and I looked at each other like what the fuck. We start to reverse the car, but the engine starts to smoke, and it stops. “Are you kidding me?” We get out and I take out my phone. “Hey, I'm looking for a tow service?” I didn't even get a response before a loud ringing came from the phone and I threw it down and Haley heard it too and she smashed it with her boot. I didn’t even notice people around us. Haley and I start to get back-to-back. My vision starts to become blurry, and I passed out.“Y/n!”

I wake up gasping. “Y/n N/n you're okay.” “Hayley, where the Hell are we?” I said looking around the room and the walls were made of stone and there were lots of candles around. “In a tomb.” “Why are we in a tomb?” “Because the witches kidnapped us.” “Why would they kidnap us!?” I'm getting angry and I stand up. Sophie devereaux walks in with a bottle of water and a bowl of gumbo and places it in front of me. “If you think I'm eating anything you give me, you witches are crazier than I give you credit for!” I said as I kicked the bowl back.

“Please Y/n all this anger is not good for the baby.” “You are going to let my sister and I go or-” Hayley stopped. “Did you just say baby?” “Yes, I did, Y/n’s baby.” Wait what? “That’s impossible, I can't be pregnant.” “Well, congrats you are, with Klaus Mikaelson’s.” Fuck “So eat up your baby needs it.” With that she walked away. “Hey, you still haven't told us why we’re here!” Haley yelled at her behind the bars. She looked down at me, who was still in shock. “Klaus Mikealson what were you thinking N/n?” “I don’t know Hayley, I was drunk, and he looked really cute and we talked and one bottle of whiskey later I woke up in his bed.” “Now I'm pregnant and absolutely terrified.” I said as I started to cry. “Shh It’s okay It’s okay.” Hayley said while hugging and rocking me.

Sophie walks in. “Get up It’s time to meet your baby’s uncle.” Hayley and I look at each with confusion and follow her. We walk out to see a man standing there in a press suit and tie.” Who the hell are you?” I asked him. “Give us a moment, please.” The man asked Sophie. “Whoever you are, you aren't going to talk to my sister alone.” Hayley said with a fierceness that I hadn't seen since I was younger. “Hayley I'll be okay.” I said as the man, and I walked into the other room.

“So, have they been holding you here against your will?” Elijah asked me. “They lured my sister and I out to the bayou and grabbed me. And they did all these... weird witchy tests. Not that I understand how this could happen. I mean, vampires are dead. They can't have children!” He turns to me and holds his hands. “Perhaps if you knew my brother's story, it might explain how this is possible. Here, if I may.” “If you open your mind to me, I can show you.” I lean down my head and Elijah shows me.

“In the beginning, our family was human... A thousand years ago, now.” I started to see them as kids. “Although our mother dabbled in the dark arts, we were actually just a family trying to survive in a time when it was quite difficult to do so. And, for better or worse, we were happy.” “That is, however, until one night, our youngest brother was killed by our village's greatest threat.” I then saw Klaus carrying their youngest brother and he was dead. “Men that could transform themselves into wolves during the full moon. Our family was devastated, none more than Niklaus. Desperate to protect the rest of us, our father forced our mother to call upon her black magic in order to make us stronger.” I now see that their father was forcing them to drink the blood to turn them.

"Thus, the first vampires were born. But with this speed, this strength, this immortality, came a terrible hunger. No one felt this hunger more than Niklaus.” The scene was now Klaus killing a human for the first time and with that he was changing into a wolf. He didn’t know of his descent. His father chained him up as Elijah tried to help but he wouldn't allow it and kept on saying horrible things about Klaus. “He wasn't just a vampire.” “He was also a werewolf. That's how the werewolf curse works. It isn't activated until you take a life.” I concluded. “Niklaus was the result of an indiscretion our mother had hidden from us all. An affair with a werewolf like yourself.” I see another thing I did not want to, Klaus was being forced to bury his werewolf side. “Your dad was a massive dick.” I said and we kind of laughed about it.

“I'm Y/n Marshall, by the way. You should probably know my name if you're gonna tell me your whole life story. I mean, I know yours. Your family is legendary. Your brother is a notorious psycho... who I slept with.” “I cannot excuse his behavior, but you must understand, when our father hunted him – hunted us – for centuries, every time we found a moment of happiness, we were forced to flee. Even here, in New Orleans, where we were happiest of all. Not long after Niklaus broke the spell which prevented him from becoming a hybrid, he defeated our father. I thought this would make him happy. He was angrier than ever. I wonder if perhaps this baby might be a way for my brother to find happiness. A way to save him from himself.” When he finished, I grabbed at my stomach for the first time knowing that I was pregnant.

“I'm glad you feel that way, because we need your help.” It was Sophie. “What, precisely, is it that you want and what does it have to do with this young woman?” Elijah questioned and I wanted to know too. “We want to run Marcel and his vampires out of town. Klaus is the key. Everything Marcel knows about being a vampire, he learned from Klaus. Marcel trusts him, looks up to him, and he won't see the betrayal coming.”

“Yes, well, as I'm sure you're aware, my brother Niklaus doesn't like to be told what to do.” “That's why I brought you here. Marcel drove the werewolves out of town decades ago. Do you really think he's going to welcome a hybrid baby to the neighborhood? Convince Klaus to help us, and no one has to know about the newest member of the Original family.” “That sounds remarkably like blackmail.” “Like I said, I'm desperate.” “Well, then, I have my work cut out for me, don't I?” “I will be back with my brother.” And with that he walks away.

Hayley walked into the room a little worried. “Oh my gosh are you okay did he hurt you?” I smile at her. “I'm fine Hayley. I just feel a little bad.” “Do you need a bucket?” “No no I mean I just learned more about Klaus than I bargained for.”

We get called back into the front of the tomb and there standing is Klaus and he looks handsome as the morning I left his bed. “No. It's impossible.” He said pointing at me and its funny cause I said the same thing. “I said the same thing myself.” Elijah said. “This is a lie. You are all lying. Vampires cannot procreate.” I kind of wish it was a lie. “But werewolves can. Magic made you a vampire, but you were born a werewolf. You're the Original hybrid, the first of your kind. And this pregnancy is one of nature's loopholes.” Sophie explained.

“You've been with someone else, admit it!” Klaus yelled at me. “Hey, guess what buddy it’s impossible on my side too since I was a teen, I've been told I can’t get pregnant, so it is a hundred percent yours also my sister and I have spent days held captive in a freaking alligator bayou because they think that I'm carrying some magical miracle baby. Don't you think I would've fessed up if it wasn't yours?” I said getting closer, almost getting in his face because if anything I was not going to stand here and be accused of being with other guys when I know my own body. We stare at each other for second before Hayley pulls me back.

“My sister gave her life to perform the spell she needed to confirm this pregnancy. Because of Jane-Anne's sacrifice, the lives of this girl and her baby are now controlled by us. We can keep them safe. Or we can kill them. If you don't help us, take down Marcel, so help me, Y/n won't live long enough to see her first maternity dress.” “Excuse me what?” I said getting worried about what Sophie just said. “Enough of this. If you want Marcel dead, he's dead. I'll do it myself.” Elijah said, stepping up and I saw Hayley looking at him with a bit of admiration. “No. We can't, not yet. We have a clear plan that we need to follow, and there are rules.” Sophie said stopping Elijah. We looked at Klaus waiting for his response.

“How dare you command me, threaten me, with what you wrongfully perceive to be my weaknesses. This is a pathetic deception. I won't hear any more lies.” I forgot how egoistic he was. I guess that night was just a side of him that was a one-time thing. “Niklaus!... Listen.” Elijah yells at him and Klaus looks at me and then my stomach listening to our baby’s heartbeat I wonder what it was like. “Kill her and the baby. What do I care?” Klaus walked away with that sentence, and I almost lunged at him. “OH, HELL NO get back here you son of a bitch!” I get held back by Elijah gently this time. “No one touches the girl. I'll fix this.”

Sophie and this older witch, Agnes, are talking again about this Vampire Marcel and whoever he is, they don’t like him that much. “Marcel and his vampires are out of control. Something had to be done.” “And the solution is to bring in more vampires?” “What makes you think you can control the hybrid?” That’s a good question. It seems like to me Klaus won’t just sit down. “She can't. I'm not entirely certain that I can, either. But now that your coven has drawn his ire, I have a question: What prevents my brother from murdering you instead of cooperating?”

Elijah said, surprising as all. Then I'm surprised personally because Sophie takes out a needle and pricks herself, but I feel it too. “Ow! What the fu-” I said looking at my hand and it was bleeding in the same place that was bleeding on Sophie's hand. Hayley grabs my hand to look at it. “The spell my sister performed, the one that got her killed? It didn't just confirm the pregnancy. It linked me to Y/n. So, anything that happens to me, happens to her, which means her life is in my hands. Klaus may not care about his own child, but it's very clear what it already means to you. If I have to hurt Y/n – or worse – to ensure that I have your attention, I will.” What the hell so the witches are cool to kill people good to know. “You would dare threaten an Original?” “I have nothing to lose.” “Well, I do!” I said feeling like they were talking about me like I wasn't there. “You have until midnight to get Klaus to change his mind.”

“His time is up. What're you gonna do now, Sophie?” Agnes asked Sophie and I was very scared for her answer. “I'm gonna do what I said was gonna do” Shit “What, kill the girl? Kill yourself?” Sabine this other witch asked. “Klaus does not care about the child.” Agnes added in and it was making me pissed off that they were barning with our baby like this. “I do” It was Elijah, at least one brother of this crazy family cared. He came in carrying the body of Jane-Anne. “And I bring proof of my intent to help you: the body of your fallen friend, which I procured from Marcel himself.” “Jane-Anne. “

“May she be granted peace. Klaus will agree to your terms. I just need a little more time.” Elijah I could tell was a smart man and thank God for that. “You had your time. It's passed.” Agnes said to him, and I wanted to wolf out on her for that. “Shut up, Agnes.” Sabine added in which kind of surprised me I mean I wanted to say it, but I had a baby to look out for. “For now, accept the deal. The girl and the child and her sister remain unharmed, or Klaus will kill you all.” He went to go walk away again but turned back. “And I will help him.”

Elijah came back to collect us and brought us to a grand old white house that felt like it hadn't been inhabited in years, probably so. Hayley was exploring another part of the house while Elijah was showing me the nursery. I went to the crib and pulled off the sheet and about a hundred years of dust came off. Cough' cough. “Are you alright?” Elijah asked me. “Oh fine, there are a lot worse places to stay in then here.” “Yes, it should serve our purposes. It's a sanctuary from our business in the Quarter. Right now, you are the most important person in this family. You need a good home. So, I'm curious... in all this time, has anyone asked you how you feel? “Like usually about how I could have a one-night stand with someone who doesn't usually do that?” “About being a mother.”

“Hayley and I were abandoned when we were born and for the most part of our lives we were in different parts of the system and I-I when I activated my werewolf side I was kicked out and thought of as a monster. And I didn’t find Hayley until I was eighteen so I really don’t know how to feel about that because I never really had a mom to rely on.” I looked back at him and he looked like he had sympathy behind his eyes. “I will always protect you and your sister. You have my word on that.”

“And noble Elijah always keeps his word.” It was Klaus. “Is it done?” "As a matter of fact, yes. Your underhanded deal worked quite well. Marcel was only too happy to accept my blood even as he accepted my heartfelt apologies. His man, Thierry, yet lives and I remain a welcome guest in the French Quarter. My only concern now is this coven of impudent witches. "Great that’s just great “I believe them to be honorable. They did release Hayley and Y/n to me. Although, they haven't been entirely forthcoming. Marcel obviously has something that they need. They don't want him dead. There must be a reason why” I leave the brothers and go to talk to Hayley.

“Hey, how was talking to Elijah?” She asked me. “It was actually not that bad, it seems like he actually cares about us.” “Really?” “Really, which is good because it seems like you were checking him out.” “Yeah, well look at us both looking at the vampire brothers, we must really be sisters.” She finished with a smile and we both laughed.

I walked back into the nursery and just stood over the crib staring at it when I felt a presence behind me. It was Klaus. “Oh hey.” “Hello” He responded back. The thing was I didn’t know how to go beyond hellos. “Look I know this is super weird you probably didn't think you would ever see me again or think about me after our… time together I just wanted to say that I will stay out of your way.” I finished awkwardly. He walked closer to me. “Is it really mine?” “One hundred percent” We stare at each other for a second. But he backs away. “Right well If you just stay out of my way there won’t be a problem.” “Right.” He goes to walk out.

Hey Yall, I really hope you liked this new fanfiction I'm trying out. I love the Vampire Diaries universe, especially the Originals. And of course, Klaus, I can't wait to develop the relationship between Y/n and him. If you want to be tagged for this series, comment nicely and I'll put you down. And if you like supernatural, I have a Castiel x reader series too.

#klaus mikaelson #klaus x y/n #klaus x reader #tvd fanfiction #tvd klaus #elijah mikaelson #marcel gerard #hayley marshall #rebekah mikaelson #hope mikaelson #tvd universe #the originals #Y/n marshall

61 notes · View notes

jasntodds · 8 months

Text

Petrichor [7]

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

Words: 14,007

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of scars, mentions of a panic attack, manipulation, canon drug use, comic book science? Titans science? (author's note at the end lol), canon violence, blood, bruises, gore, breaking bones, mentions of nightmares, canon character death (I'm so sorry)

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: Happy birthday to Jason Todd!! So, sorry I did this for his birthday lmao I lied, this is longer than I thought it would be lol But I'm so sorry. I don't have anything else to say for myself besides canon made me do it and so did the comics lol 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 😭

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

Over the next couple of weeks, Jason continues to go to therapy as directed by Bruce. To his surprise, it actually seems to be helping a little bit. He’s still having nightmares but they aren’t every night anymore. His hands aren’t shaking as badly either. He just feels a little bit better. Maybe Bruce and you were right about Leslie.

You and Jason are doing better, too. There have been moments where he’s gotten a little too frustrated but he remembers your talk and you give him a little bit of space until he’s ready to talk. It works for the both of you. You go on dates at least once a week and you both actually feel normal during the day. It’s not about being a vigilante and figuring out how to survive.

You go out on patrol three days a week instead of six. This is Jason’s thing and you know it bothers him. You can wait to patrol every night until he gets Robin back. It doesn’t bother you that much. And this way, you get to spend more time together and exist in a normal way that you desperately craved. You are a normal couple for once.

Above all of that, it’s been good. Things have been good. And while that is terrifying, you and Jason stick it out anyway. You don’t run or push. You both want to sometimes because it’s easier but you’re both fucking happy. So, you don’t. You don’t do it because losing each other is worse than anything the other could ever dish out. Running and pushing wouldn’t do either of you any good for the first time in your lives. So, you both enjoy the happiness together. Until things come to a screeching halt.

You're in the living room, having a FaceTime TV marathon with Gar when Bruce comes home. He offers a quick hello before trying to walk off but you call him anyway. He’s home a lot later than he should be since he went to pick up Jason. It was his request you stay back this time.

“Where’s Jason?” You question.

In all fairness, you wouldn’t be asking him normally but you also haven’t heard much from Jason since his therapy session ended. He said Bruce was taking him somewhere so he would be home later. And that was kind of the end of it. He’s been doing quite a bit better so you haven’t been as worried when he doesn’t text you back right away. But now Bruce is here without him.

“In the city.” Bruce answers plainly.

“Why? You went to pick him up?” You raise a brow and something happened. Jason texted you in the car. He was fine and with Bruce.

You look at the time and see that was a few hours ago.

“He’s upset. I’m giving him space. You should, too.” Bruce states.

“What did you do?” You deadpan, pulling up the text thread with Jason.

“I did not do anything.” Bruce defends. “He’ll be home soon.” Bruce states before he walks off.

“Everything okay?” Gar asks.

“Nope.” You shake your head. “I assume they got into some sort of fight again.” You roll your eyes. “Did he text you by chance?” You ask seeing the read receipt from a few hours ago.

Gar checks his phone and the last he heard from Jason was that morning. “No, he hasn’t texted me since this morning. What’s going on?”

You: you okay? Bruce said you’re upset what happened?

“I have no idea. He was fine earlier.” You let out a sigh, looking back at Gar through the tablet screen.

“You said he’s been better, right? Maybe he’s just blowing off steam from Bruce.” Gar suggests. Jason has shared some of the stuff that's happened and has complained a little about Bruce.

“Yeah, but if that’s the case, he usually comes to me to bitch about Bruce because I always agree with him.” You give Gar a grin just as your phone goes off.

Jaybird 🥰: fuck bruce I’m fine don’t worry

You: what happened? Do you want me to come get you?

“Well he texted me back and I was right, fight with Bruce.” You roll your eyes.

They fight sometimes, usually about Robin-related things or Jason wanting to do something reckless and Bruce putting a stop to it. Jason’s usually only a mad an hour or so before he’s fine and over it. Jason doesn’t hold very many grudges.

“Did he say about what?” Gar asks.

“Nope. Just said, fuck Bruce.”

Jaybird 🥰: no just wanna be alone still you and me love you ❤️

You: call or text every so often so I know you’re okay please I love you, too 🥰

“What’d he say?” Gar asks. He worries enough for the both of you/

“He wants to be alone and when Jason wants to be alone that is never good. But we have this thing where I let him be alone and then he tells me about it later. So, I guess I have to wait. If he isn’t home or texting me in a few hours, I’ll go look for him.” You reluctantly put your phone down. Giving Jason space is never easy.

“Think he’ll be alright?” Gar asks with worry in his voice.

“Yeah, him and Bruce fight sometimes. I’m sure it’s nothing too bad, Bruce probably just said something stupid and Jason was already in a mood.” You let out a sigh as the worry feeling gnaws at your stomach.

“Did you want to still—“

“Yeah, yeah, no. We can keep watching. He said he’ll text me.” You offer a soft smile while the two of you continue your show.

It’s not fair. It’s utter bullshit. Jason can’t help the way his blood is boiling and fuming while his hands shake. Bruce doesn’t think he’s good enough to be Robin. Bruce gave up on him. Jason is supposed to be his son and Bruce gave up on him anyway but he never gave up on Dick. If Jason weren’t so weak, this whole thing never would have happened. But he’s gonna prove to Bruce he can be Robin. He can be the best Robin and he can be a better Batman, too. He just needs a little help in the fear department.

He’s desperate. He tells himself this is a one-time thing. Fear creeps in his throat, grasping to be let out in the damp air. It’s a one-time thing, he tells himself. He’s out of options if he wants to be Robin. He’s out of options if he wants to keep the most important thing in his life. All he needs is a quick fix to fear and he’ll be back out there, better than he has ever been. He’ll prove it to Bruce. Bruce is wrong about him.

Bruce thinks he’s a mistake. He thinks Jason isn't worth the trouble just like everyone else. Bruce thinks Jason is weak. He thought Jason could replace Dick and he couldn’t. Not as Robin and not as Bruce’s son. But if he can get rid of his fear, he can show him how wrong he is. He isn’t just another mistake. He isn’t weak and he’s better than Dick. He swears this will be it. It won’t be bad. He can handle this. He swears it’ll all be fine. So, he hangs up on Leslie and heads inside the gates of Arkham Asylum as rain patters around him.

He’s a master manipulator. Jason knows that. It’s one of the things he’s best at. But the desperation for a cure to fear clouds every aspect of that. The desperation doesn’t let him see why Crane wants information for the cure. He can’t see Crane’s angel in his state of paralyzed desperation. And Jason has been manipulated before. He swears he’ll know if Crane is manipulating him because he knows what to look out for this time. But, desperation and the fear of being scared forever, go hand in hand. Fear and desperation cloud everything. He tosses his loyalty from the window as he gets closer to the formula. Crane gives him a piece of it with every piece of information Jason gives him.

“Tell me about the first Robin.” Crane offers this grin that sends a chill down Jason’s spine.

“Like what?” Jason huffs.

“His name, where he is, everything you know.”

“Dick Grayson. He’s in San Francisco and goes by Nightwing.” Jason explains, throwing Dick completely under the bus. He has a problem with Dick now anyway. Dick Grayson has always been the goody two shoes and Bruce’s favorite. Jason only got to be Robin because Dick abandoned Bruce. Jason was a filler. “He’s with the Titans. He got Deathstroke’s son killed and dropped me from a skyscraper.” Jason lets out a scoff.

“Interesting. Doesn’t seem to be the golden boy Bruce portrayed him as.” Crane grins and this is easier than he thought it would be. Jason has no problems rolling, apparently and Crane knows he’s going to use that to his advantage.

He’s broken. He’s desperate and Crane has the cure he wants. This is going to be easy and Crane gets all benefits. Jason lets him take down the Bat but in the best way. Crane is going to get the Bat’s son to turn on him and get rid of him. To break him. And then Dick Grayson and all of Gotham will follow. Crane finds the whole thing a little poetic. He can use him. And Jason will never see through it once he figures out the formula.

“Yep.” Jason answers simply, wanting to get this over with and Crane offers him a piece of the formula.

“The Titans. Who are they?” Crane asks, hiding the malicious intent behind curiosity.

Jason looks up to him and he doesn’t like to throw some of the others under the bus. But Crane is here. He can’t do anything. And most of them thought he was just Dick’s weaker replacement anyway. They gave up, too.

“Rachel Roth, Raven. Hank Hall, Hawk. Dawn Granger, Dove. Kory Anders, Starfire. Conner Kent, Superboy. Gar Logan, Beast Boy.” Jason pauses, waiting to see if Crane knows more.

Of course, he does. He’s in Arkham, not living under a rock. The Bat gains a new sidekick and everyone knows about it. Crane is only taking a guess the new sidekick also was a Titan based on when you showed up and your close proximity with Robin, himself. He saw Jason’s hesitance on his face. The fear.

Crane chuckles softly. “Aren’t you missing someone, pal?” Crane asks, almost a little too warmly. “Could have sworn there was one more.”

Jason grits his teeth and he’s so sorry.

When he came up with this plan, he had a feeling Crane would want information. He came prepared for it. Part of that preparation was leaving you the hell out of it. Not you. Crane can��t know about you. Anyone but you. But he does know. He already knows you're a Titan and he already knows you work for Bruce. Jason has no choice if he wants the formula. And he is so sorry.

Jason says your name with bitterness on his tongue. “Bluejay. She doesn't really like the name thing though.” Jason answers.

Crane has a soft smile. “She’s the new bird. So many of you are birds.” Crane chuckles. “I do find it interesting you would try to leave her out of it. She’s the new edition to Batman. Let me guess,” Crane boasts around his cell. “Your girlfriend.”

Not you. You've done everything you can to save him and help him. He loves you. Not you. Anyone but you.

“No.” Jason answers. “Just friends.” He bites the words because maybe Crane doesn’t know for sure you’re together and he wants you at arm's length.

“If you want the formula, you really shouldn’t lie to me.” Crane has a sinister smile. “You wouldn’t leave her out of it if you were just friends.” Crane lets the words fall with ease.

He’s so fucking sorry.

“Yeah, okay fine. Girlfriend.” Jason spits.

He knows you’ll never forgive him if you find out. You can’t tell Molly anything but he’s here telling Crane everything. You're going to hate him. But he needs a cure. He can’t feel this way forever. He can’t do it. He doesn't think he’ll be able to live like this anymore.

“Ah, young love.” Crane smiles with that shrug of his shoulders. You're going to be an interesting obstacle in this one. He’s already trying to protect you from this. Crane knows he needs to break that bond as fast as he can if he wants this plan to work. “I want to know about her.” There’s this look that crosses Crane’s eyes and Jason almost turns around.

But he doesn’t.

“Why? She’s not with the fucking Titans and she hates Bruce. She works with him because of me. That’s it. She got a suit out of it and a place to stay.”

“I’m a bit of a romantic, myself. Love stories are cute. Always having someone on your side, through thick and thin. It is quite romantic, don’t you think? If we’re going to work together, I want to know why she’s so important to you.” Crane grins. “You can trust me, boy. We want the same things and the way the Bat has treated you…it’s so cruel. But I, I believe in you. That’s why I’m helping you. You trust me, don’t you?”

You're going to kill him. Guilt chews at his limbs. His jaw squares and he thinks swallowing his own teeth would be easier than this. But he has to. Maybe Crane is being sincere. Jason thinks he is. At least enough. Maybe if Jason tells him enough, Crane will see you aren’t a problem. Maybe he’ll see you would side with them. You want Gotham to be better, you don’t agree with Bruce’s ways. Maybe Crane will understand. He’s helping Jason, maybe he can help you. You're scared, too.

“Dick found her.” Jason answers reluctantly. “She joined the Titans. We went after Deathstroke together. Got kidnapped and dropped from the skyscraper. Dick saved her. CADMUS attacked her, Gar, and Conner when I was gone. Dick left them alone when shit hit the fan. CADMUS left her for dead. So, she came back to Gotham.” Jason explains.

“She was there with Deathstroke.” Crane lets out a sigh and like Bruce, in a way, he can always tell when someone could need him. Someone who’s been traumatized. His intentions aren’t as pure as Bruce’s. “But Dick saved her and not you. Did you save her?”

“It wasn’t like that.” Jason shakes his head. “Dick tried to save me first and dropped me. Then he saved her. But yeah,” Jason nods. “I protected her and she did the same shit for me.”

“The two of you went through something so traumatic together. That really must have brought you closer. It’s not as romantic as I was hoping for but it is quite nice.” Crane grins. “She has powers, doesn’t she?”

“Acid generation.” Jason stares, leaving out the combat clairvoyance and the possibility of you having sharp shooting abilities. Two things Crane can’t prove Jason lied about.

“Now that is interesting. Does she know you’re here right now? Asking for my help?”

“No.” Jason shakes his head. “Look, she’s got nothing to with this shit. But, I can get her on our side. The other Titans targeted me for all types of shit I didn’t do and she was the only one on my side. She’s not a fucking problem. I can handle her.”

Crane grins and that’s all he needs. Jason is already hiding something huge from you. The distrust will be there and Jason doesn’t know Crane’s whole plan. If it goes the way he thinks it will, it’ll break your relationship. He will have no one left besides Crane. Exactly how he wants it. So, he decides he’ll let Jason think he believes this whole thing and moves back to the Titans.

“I do hope you’re right.” Crane sighs. “Tell me everything that happened in San Fransisco, with all of the Titans.”

Jason lets out a sigh before he spills every piece of information. He tells him everything from Trigon to Deathstroke to CADMUS. He tells him about the Titans turning on him for something he didn’t do, you talking him off the roof. Dick's confession and Donna’s death. Everything.

Then he tells Crane everything he knows about Bruce. The manor, the Batcave. Everything. He tells Crane about his training and the cabin, how Bruce found him and how Bruce found Dick. He spills and Crane lets him talk. Crane listens a lot but asks questions where he finds needed but he mostly just lets Jason talk as Jason keeps you out of it as much as he can. Jason is far more cooperative when it comes to everyone else.

Crane figures once he figures out the formula, he can get more information on you and use it against him if he needs to. He can’t have anyone if this is going to work and Crane knows exactly how he’ll be able to accomplish it. But for now, it’s about the Titans and Bruce. By the time Jason finishes, he’s got the formula tucked away in his pocket, ready to let fear go.

Jason pulls his phone from his pocket once he’s far enough away from Arkham. He’s spent the walk running over every lie he could tell you. Guilt eats at him with every step he takes. You're gonna kill him. He’s gonna lie to you because he knows for a fact, you’ll freak out. You’ll think he’s gone off the deep end and you’ll tell Dick. You’ll drag him kicking and screaming out of Gotham. You’ll tell Arkham and he won’t be able to see Crane again. It’s not fair and it’s not right. But you can’t know. And a part of him finds that to be unfair, too because he’s gonna fix his fear while you have to suffer with yours. That’s not fair to you. So, he thinks.

Maybe he can figure out a way to bring it up without bringing it up. Maybe he can try to see how you’d feel about a way to get rid of fear. If you seem for it, then he can tell you. He can see if you want to help. But the more he thinks about that, the more he thinks about Crane.

You’d have to be involved with him. Jason doesn’t want you involved with him. Not him. And he knows, the second he tells you about Crane, you’ll lose it. Even if you want a cure-all. You’ll bail the second you hear about Crane. You would never work with a guy like that. So, he has no choice. It’s that or end it and he doesn’t want to do that either.

“Hey.” Jason says as you pick up the phone.

“Jay? Where are you? I’ve been texting you to make sure you were okay.” He can hear your worry and he thinks maybe the anti-fear drug will make him not worry. Maybe you don’t want to worry so much.

“I’m sorry.” Jason clears his throat. “I needed to clear my damn head. I’m fine. Can you come get me, please?”

“Yeah, of course. Where are you?” You answer and Jason can hear you rustling on the other end.

“I’ll text you the address.” Jason states. “Thanks.”

“Of course.” You hang up and get to your feet while Jason texts you the address.

When you reach Jason, he’s soaked. Your heart aches, feeling like it’s being squeezed right through your rib cage at the sight of him. He looks exhausted and lost. He looks distant and he is drenched from the winter rain. Something bad happened and you have no idea how you're going to be able to help.

You take off your helmet, not getting off the bike. “Jay, are you okay?”

Jason gets up from the curb and walks up to you, offering you a fake smile. “Yeah.” His jaw clenches and he doesn’t even want to go home. He doesn’t want to see Bruce. He’d rather be outside in the cold. “All good.”

“What happened?” You reach out but Jason dodges you, reaching for his helmet. A lump grows in your throat. He doesn’t dodge you. Not like that.

“Bruce took Robin away.” Jason’s voice cracks as he shakes his head.

He dodges your stare. He doesn’t want to see the look you’ll give him. On the one hand, he’ll feel guilty. He’ll feel guilty for lying and talking to Crane. And on the other, you’ll give him a look that screams pity and that is the last thing he needs. Jason Todd doesn’t need anyone’s pity.

“What do you mean?” You question.

“Like fucking permanently. He said I can’t be Robin anymore.” Jason lets out a bitter scoff as he feels the anger come back to his bloodstream.

“Jay, I’m so sorry.” You say softly.

You never thought Bruce would take it away like that. Jason has been doing everything Bruce asked him to do. Ever since the Pete Hawkins thing, Jason has backed off entirely. He is putting a real effort into therapy, really trying to let the process help. Why would Bruce rip it away from him?

“Fuck him. I’m gonna fucking show him he’s wrong. He's fucking wrong about me.” Jason grits his teeth.

“He is.” You nod your head. “Come on. Let’s get you home and warm and we can talk more, okay?”

“Whatever.” Jason scoffs, popping his helmet on before he gets on the back and holds onto you while you drive back to the manor.

You get Jason back to the manor and into a warm shower. He says almost nothing. It’s as if he’s completely numb and it breaks you to see him like this. Jason is anything but quiet in a shower with you, usually. And he’s always handsy and cheeky. But, tonight, he’s just quiet, going through the motions, stuck on his own head.

You don’t understand how Bruce could take Robin away like that. It’s not fair. Jason does what Bruce asks him to and he messes up sometimes but that’s normal. How does he not see Robin is the most important thing to him? You even told him that. And he took Robin anyway. He never should have let him be Robin in the first place if this was something that could happen. Dick almost killed someone and he didn’t take Robin from Dick. Jason tries his best. Why isn’t that good enough for Bruce?

Dick was always right about him.

Jason plops onto your bed, his eyes red and puffy. His heart feels like it’s being crushed by cinderblocks. It all hurts. How did he really let another person down? How was he fooled into believing Bruce was different than everyone else? He thinks about his dad. His dad wasn’t a good person but Jason, sometimes, wonders if it was him. Maybe it was his fault his dad was like that. Maybe it was different before him. His dad didn’t choose to be his dad. But Bruce chose it. And still is giving up on him. Jason is Bruce’s son by choice, he thought the choice of picking a son, would make it different. But it’s the same old story Jason hates retelling.

He fucks up and people give up.

“Want me to rub your back while you tell me about it?” You offer as you stand in between his legs, looking down at him.

Jason looks up at you and you always worried so much. He wishes he could be better so you wouldn’t worry about him. He wonders why you choose him. You don’t have to, like Bruce. But you do. He wonders if one day you’ll stop. If his mom and his dad and his uncle and Dick and Bruce all chose other things over him, why wouldn't you? But he looks up at you and you give him this soft smile with your fingertips brushing his knees with care and he thinks you're still different than everyone else.

Jason cracks a soft smile. “Yeah, actually. Thank you.”

“Of course.” You smile softly.

Jason switches to his stomach, facing the TV just as you did the first day you started your friends-with-benefits situation. You sit on top of him and run your hands over his back. Your hands are cold, sending goosebumps up his spine. Your hands are always cold, something he always finds a bit ironic given the acid generation warms your hands. But your fingers are soft as you trace over the scars on his back. You do it every time and he always meant to ask.

“Why do you do that?” Jason asks, his eyes closed with his head on his hands.

“Do what?” You ask as you start rubbing his shoulders.

“Trace the scars.”

“I dunno.” You shake your head and you didn’t realize you did it often enough for him to notice.

You're not even sure why you do it. It’s something mindless. Maybe it’s your subconscious wishing if you trace them enough times, it’ll remove the damage the scars have caused him, like a magic eraser. Or maybe tracing the scars is confirmation he’s real.

Sometimes, you have a hard time believing he’s real. All of this is real. You used to dream of a life outside of the basement, sometimes they’d feel so real you could swear they were. Wishful thinking.

Maybe you trace them as confirmation that the raised and paled skin is real, Jason is here with you and you're not dreaming. Maybe you like the way the scars look on his skin but he managed to pull through all of his terrible shit and make it out the other end with a smart mouth and a heart of gold anyway. Maybe, you just do it because you care about him regardless of the scars and what made them.

“Does it bother you?” You ask softly.

“No.” Jason answers. “Just wondering.”

It always makes him feel vulnerable, a harsh reminder he is not invincible as much as he likes to believe he is sometimes. He might have survived those injuries but they’re there as harsh reminders. And you touch them and he thinks maybe you find comfort in them, because you have them, too. And that’s always enough for him. He thinks it makes him feel human and real and alive. He always feels a little exposed but it’s become comforting with you.

“What happened?”

He thinks he has his lies in order. He knows he might be sabotaging the relationship. Despite everything he thinks as you massage over the scar on his back, he knows. He knows you might not forgive him. There’s always a chance you won’t be so understanding when you inevitably find out because you always figure him out. But it's a risk he has to take.

He can’t keep doing this anymore. He can’t keep not sleeping. He can’t keep shaking and freezing. He can’t keep living like this. He knows he can’t. It’ll destroy him. It’ll be miserable. The idea of going back to being useless and not good enough and a disappointment, he can’t live like that. He needs help now, before Bruce finds his replacement. Maybe you’ll understand that part.

“He fucking said he made mistakes and I guess I’m fucking one of them.” Jason scoffs from under you.

You narrow your eyes thinking Bruce didn’t actually say that. You have no faith in Bruce to communicate worth a shit given your conversation with him and given Jason and Dick. And Bruce might be very good at hiding his emotions, but you know he actually cares about Jason. You don’t think Bruce would ever tell Jason he was a mistake, even if he thought it.

“He said that?” You ask, pausing for a few seconds.

“Basically!” Jason groans. “And he doesn’t want to make more mistakes and he said I can’t be Robin anymore. He thinks I’m a fucking mental case. He doesn’t care it’s important to me. He doesn’t care that I’m doing what he wants me to. It doesn’t matter to him. It’s fucking bullshit.” Jason’s voice shakes as his back tenses under your palms.

“That’s not fair. I don’t know why he would do that. You were always a great Robin.” You say softly.

You wish you could have heard the conversation so you would know better what to say. But, you also know, even if Bruce didn’t say any of that and it came out wrong, it wouldn’t change anything for you to decipher it for him. At the end of the day, Bruce could have outright told Jason he loves him and he doesn’t want him to die and Jason would still be absolutely crushed with Robin being ripped away from him. Bruce’s delivery of the message doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change anything.

“Just fucking tired of being scared.” Jason lets out a defeated sigh. “Fucking gave up on me. Ya know, thought he was fucking different.” His voice is etched in pain and you wish you could take it all away. He never deserves the pain he gets.

It’s honest. He can be honest with you about that. Maybe he wants you to figure it out.

“Yeah, I get it. Being scared really sucks. You’ll get better though. I know I keep saying it but it takes time, Jay. Bruce should be giving you more time.” You say. “I’m really sorry about him.” You lean down and press a kiss to his shoulder blade. “You still have me, okay?”

He knows. He’ll always have you. Somewhere inside of him, he knows. The anxiety of you freaking out and leaving when you figure it out is there, but he also knows he’s given you every opportunity to take off and run. And you never do. You’d understand his desperation. You'd understand why he lied. He knows he still has you.

“What if there were a cure for fear?” Jason asks and he’s glad you can’t see his face. You’d know.

“What do you mean?” Your brows furrow.

“What if there was a cure? Like we can just take it and not be scared anymore.” Jason listens carefully, feeling your hands pause on his back. He knows without looking that you've got your right eyebrow raised at him, your eyes narrowing at him as if you can’t decide if he’s joking or serious.

“I mean that’d be great, but there would be consequences, right?” You question.

You're a little concerned with the question. But, that’d be insane. It’d be insane for him to really look for a cure to fear. You swear he’s just talking, doing one of his hypothetical talks he does like you do about the zombie apocalypse.

“Like what? Being fearless sounds pretty fucking good right about now.” Jason scoffs.

“We’ll, fear is just adrenaline, right? But that fear also keeps you looking both ways before crossing the street, it alerts you when someone is following you home. Without fear, also means you won’t have excitement. You’ll probably be emotionally numb to a lot of things. Not having adrenaline is dangerous though.” You answer.

“Yeah, but isn’t that fucking better than being scared all the damn time? You’re afraid of everything, too and your nightmares are back. You wouldn’t want something to stop it?” Jason looks over his shoulder.

Your nightmares came back a week and a half ago. You and Molly were on a walk and ran into Jerry’s Gotham house. You still don’t know how you missed it, but you did. You were walking and having a good time and you saw the house and that was it. You broke and it’s like all of the progress you made over the last few months evaporated into the atmosphere. Molly had to call Jason because you were having a panic attack and couldn’t snap out of it. The nightmares came back that night.

“Of course, I would.” You shrug.

You think about it and maybe it would be nice. If nothing else, just so you could get some damn proper sleep. So, you both could get some proper sleep. Maybe if you both got some sleep, you’d be better. Maybe Jason makes a good point but then you think about how happy you are when you see him and when a new movie comes out and your marathons with Gar. You wouldn’t want to trade those feelings for being fearless.

“But not if it means getting rid of everything else. Adrenaline also keeps us alive. I’ve been numb and that’s worse than being scared. Why?” You ask. “You trying to find a cure to fear or something?”

“No.” Jason scoffs, letting out a fake laugh and he was really hoping you’d be on his side with this one. “Just fucking saying, wish there were a cure. At least so I can be Robin.”

“Look, it sucks, Jaybird. But I don’t think the answer to being Robin is being fearless. You had to use that fear to survive out there, too. You’re gonna be okay and then you can go out and be your own hero. You don’t have to be Robin. Dick quit and became Nightwing. You don’t need Bruce to help people.” You say. “And I still think you’re plenty good enough. I’m just saying, if Bruce won’t let you, do it yourself when you get better. You’re good enough.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Jason sighs. “Maybe you’re right but he doesn’t believe in me anymore.” Jason says and you know it’s never your approval he’ll need. And that’s okay but you wish sometimes, like tonight, it were enough. “I’m gonna prove him wrong.”

“Good, fuck Bruce.” You smile softly. “Just…give it a little bit, okay? Keep seeing Leslie, too. She’s been helping.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Jason huffs.

“I’m serious, Jason. You do sleep more now. Seeing her is helping, just keep up with it. And then we’ll go out together. Fuck Bruce. We’ll be our own team.” You let out a soft chuckle.

“Thanks.” Jason lets out a sigh.

You make good points but his mind is made up. He’s going to do this. He doesn’t have time to wait around and hope for the best. He isn’t going to Leslie. He’s going to make the anti-fear drug and he won’t be scared anymore. Maybe you're right. Maybe he’ll be numb to everything but he doesn’t care anymore. He is desperate for a cure. He needs it. Maybe he can only use it to be Robin, just to prove himself. It’ll be a quick fix and that’ll be the end of it. Just use it out there and to sleep. You make good points, but he has to do this. And he is so sorry he has to lie about it.

Jason turns from under you so he can face you and you place your hands on his chest. You have a soft smile and he feels so guilty but you’ll understand. You’ll get it when he can function better, it’s just until this whole shit wears off. You’ll get it. If anyone will, it’ll be you.

“Thanks for not giving up on me.” Jason places his hands on your thighs, his thumbs rubbing softly against your bare skin.

“You and me.” You smile softly.

“Yeah.” Jason smiles looking at the necklace hanging from your neck. You haven't taken it off since he gave it to you. “You and me.”

“You okay?” Your voice is filled with love as you ask. No one ever asked like that before.

“Yeah.” Jason answers simply. “Just glad you’re here.”

“You sure? I’m really worried about you.” Your brows knit together. “You know I’ll always be here. No matter what.”

“I’m not gonna walk off a roof, I swear.” Jason’s eyes widen as a grin tugs at the corner of his lips.

“Good. I just know this is bad for you. I just hope you believe me because I believe in you.”

Jason sits up and places his fingers under your chin. “Thanks. Look, I’ll be fucking fine. Trust me. I got a plan.” Jason offers you a grin.

“That’s still mildly unsettling coming from you.” You smile. “What’s the plan?” You widen your eyes as your hands come to his shoulders, a teasing smirk coming to your lips.

“You’ll see.” Jason drops his hand to your waist.

“Oh, you’re not gonna tell me?” You laugh.

“What’s that you always say?” Jason teases. “We don’t always get what we want.” And he says your name, it comes out a little groveled but his voice is teasing.

“Shut up.” You groan.

“Do you trust me?” Jason asks as his hands squeeze your hips softly.

“Of course, I do. You know I do.” You answer.

“Trust me then. I got a plan. I’ll be back out there and proving everyone else wrong.” Jason holds his head with confidence.

You raise a brow at him. “Why do I have a bad feeling about that?” Jason and plans aren’t always a bad combination but he is desperate and hurt right now. You remember the last plan he had when he felt this way.

“Don’t. I got this. Like you said, I’ll be fine.” Jason presses a kiss to your lips.

“Right yeah, you will be.” You let out a sigh and you think it can’t be that bad. He’d tell you. “Okay. You’ll tell me through, right?”

“Of course, you and me.” Jason gives you a wild grin.

He hopes you won’t be mad.

The next day, Jason rents an apartment and sets up to work on making the anti-fear drug. ?You had plans with Molly anyway and that was the perfect excuse for him to get here all by himself to get to work. Plus, Bruce had to go out of town so that's one less person he has to worry about.

He feels guilt gnawing at his stomach like a bad stomach ulcer. But he works anyway. He works through it because this is the only way. And even if he wanted to back out, he already told Crane everything. If he wanted to back out, Crane could use that information against him. But, he doesn’t want to back out anyway, so he pushes the guilt and anxiety away as he puts together a botched drug.

You grow suspicious over the next few days. Jason is making weird and random excuses not to hang out. He’s always trying to get you to hang out more with Molly or for you to head to Excellent Gotham and get to know Tim better. You always need more friends, apparently. Normally, you wouldn’t think too much of it. Or you’d be worried he was distancing himself to leave. But it’s Jason and he’s definitely hiding something, so you follow him one day.

Your phone rings as you hide in the alley beside the building Jason walked into.

“Hello?” You ask.

“Why are you following me?” Jason asks.

He caught onto you following him a few blocks from the apartment he’s been using. He was Robin and a street kid, he knows when someone is following him. And he feels bad about it. For you to follow him, you have to be really worried. He doesn’t track you unless you get kidnapped and you don’t track him on his phone. You don’t follow each other. But you are. And he needs to find a way to assure you.

“I—“ You pause. “I-I’m not following you.” You scoff.

“Yeah, you are.” Jason states as he walks through the opposite end of the alley.

“Why do you think that?” You raise, crossing your arm across your chest.

“I can see you.” Jason answers, pulling the phone away from his ear as you jump, turning around to see Jason.

To be fair, you should have known he'd figure it out. But, you tried to be subtle and keep a far enough distance away from him. You put in a lot of effort. He's just more vigilant than you are, apparently.

“Oh, hey, Jay.” You give him a cheeky smile with a nervous laugh. “Whatcha doing?”

You might be following him. You might be figuring it out a little sooner than he'd personally like. But, he does find it a little cute. And a little amusing you really thought Jason wouldn't figure it out.

“Walking, what’re you doing, babe?” Jason quips, closing the rest of the distance between you.

You sigh in defeat. “Following you.”

Jason lets out a hearty laugh. “No shit. Why?”

“You’ve been…weird, sneaking around. Worried about you.” You groan as you scrunch your nose.

He's really not trying to worry you. He doesn't want you to worry about him anymore. Even if you would be completely against an anti-fear drug, a part of him thinks maybe if he has it, you won't have too many reasons to worry about him anymore. The way Jason sees it, he was always better off with less fear. Maybe the drug helping him, will help you. In a roundabout way.

“You don’t have to worry. I’m just working on something, alright?” He’s giving you that toothy grin that is always trouble.

“Right…that’s not nearly as reassuring as you think it is.” You quip back, the smile falling short.

“It’s a surprise, alright? Don’t worry so much.”

“A surprise?” You raise a brow.

“A surprise.” Jason echoes and it’s not technically a lie. “You said you trust me.”

“I do.” You groan. “I’m sorry. You just never sneak around. It’s weird, even for you.”

You chew the inside of your cheek and maybe you're being paranoid. You've always been a little on the paranoid side, especially since Jerry. And the paranoia decided to come back in full force with the nightmares. Maybe you're just paranoid, more worried about losing him. Things have been good, between you at least, you always get scared when things are good for too long.

Jason puts his hands on your shoulders. “I’m fine, babe. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Promise?” You ask.

“Promise.” Jason nods.

“Fine.” You sigh, taking his arms off of your shoulders and holding his right hand. “Just…whatever you’re up to, be careful.”

“Always.” Jason beams, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll see you at home, yeah?”

“Yeah, okay.” You sigh, kissing him softly.

“Love you.” Jason grins, walking past you.

“I love you, too.” You watch him walk off and you really have a bad feeling about this one. But you can’t follow him and you have no reason not to trust him. So, you let him walk as you head back the way you came.

The next day, Jason gets the formula right. He uses an inhaler to take it and every fear he has ever had, melts away. It works. He did it. He got his cure to fear. So, he heads back to Arkham, high on the drug to confirm to Crane he got it despite the shotty formula.

And Crane already had a plan in motion. He had a feeling Jason would figure it out. So, he set up a plan and it’s time for the plan to go into motion so they can make Gotham theirs. Crane needs Jason to prove it works. What better way than to have him face off with the Joker alone? That’ll surely prove it. But, what Jason doesn’t know, is that Crane knows the downside to life without fear. Of course, he does. He’s the expert in it. Crane already has someone on the outside ready to handle it when this does not go the way Jason thinks it will. But is it perfect for Crane, another thing to hold over Jason’s head to control him.

And Jason doesn’t see the motive. So, Crane tells him to go after the Joker to prove it works and prove to the Bat he can do this. Jason doesn’t need Bruce. He can take care of the Joker all by himself. Jason, lacking all apprehension and self-preservation thanks to the drug, agrees easily. He’s not scared of him.

That next night, Jason convinces you to run out to the store. You were talking about needing some supplies for your scrapbook. You're reluctant at first, but decide to go. It’ll be quick. And Jason gets to work tracking the Joker.

But, with Jason at home, something just does not feel right to you. You make it all the way to the store, hoping the feeling will it go away, but it doesn't. So, you decide to call Molly, maybe Molly can talk you down.

“Hey.” Molly chimes through the phone.

“Hey, you busy?” You ask as you sit on the bike outside of the store.

“No, what’s up?”

You pause. It’s eating at you. Jason was weird as fuck last night when he came home and he’s been weird today. Convincing you to go to the store was weird. Him not coming with is also weird. And you have that feeling in the pit of your stomach. You shouldn’t have left.

“You….uh, I don’t know. I think I’m having a bad feeling so I just…need to talk I think.” You shake your head, the helmet weighing on your head a bit.

“What’s going on? Where’s Jason?” Molly asks.

“Home.” You answer. “I went to the store, he didn’t wanna come.”

“Is everything okay with you guys?”

“Yeah, yeah, all good. Not, uh, not what I wanted to talk about actually.”

“What’s going on?”

“Uh…do you…you know when something bad is gonna happen like really bad and you just….get this feeling? Like…right in the center of your stomach?”

You think you're being paranoid. It only happened once when your mom died. But since Jerry, you're always paranoid and the feeling comes back. Sometimes it’s wrong. Sometimes, it’s just you being paranoid. And you know that’s what this has to be because what could possibly happen to Jason at the manor?

“Yeah.” Molly nods her head because it happened with her mom. She just knew. “You have that feeling?”

“Yeah…I don’t know. Sometimes it's wrong. But it just…I don’t know. Feels bad.” You let out a sigh.

“When did it start?”

“Right before I left. Like, I got on the bike and I just….I don’t know. I think I’m gonna go home.” You shake your head and you can go home. You can always come back tomorrow.

“Are you sure? I mean...what if it’s a coincidence? Two’s a coincidence.” Molly tries to assure you.

“Yeah, I know but….what if it’s not? Can you stay on the phone with me while I get back?” You just can’t do it. It’s not a big deal.

“Yeah, of course.” Molly nods her head and you start the bike, taking off back to the manor. “What do you think it is?” Molly asks, mostly to talk you down.

“I don’t know.” You answer. “Jason’s been acting weird lately. I don’t know. I can’t explain it. It’s not….he’s…something’s off with him and I don’t know why I came. He told me to and maybe I listen to him a little too much sometimes. He said he was fine but I don’t know. I got a real bad feeling.” You groan.

“How far are you from the manor?”

“Like twenty minutes.”

“Well, if something is going on, you’re not that far and you haven’t been gone long. He couldn’t have gotten into too much trouble.” Molly tries to assure you but it doesn’t work.

The more you talk, the more paranoid you get. You know Molly is right. He couldn’t have gotten into too much trouble in the last half hour. But you worry anyway.

“Yeah, hey, can you conference him in? Just…give me some piece of mind before I get back.”

“Yeah, of course.” Molly states as she pulls the phone away from her ear and adds Jason to the call. The two of you listen as the phone rings and rings and rings. And then goes to voicemail.

“Fuck.” You let out a scoff as panic starts to flood your system.

“Maybe he’s--”

“No, he’d answer if it were you while I’m out. Call again.” You state and Molly does as told, getting voicemail again. You shake your head and you pull the throttle back, kicking the bike into third.

“Slow down.” Molly urges. “I’m sure he’s fine. Maybe he’s just in the bathroom.” Molly says as she hears the bike rev further.

“He’d answer. I know he would. Double calls. He would because why would you call him twice in a row unless it were important?” You argue.

You're begging for you to be wrong. You hope against everything in your body you're wrong. This one time, you have to be wrong.

“Okay, so what do you think is going on?” Molly asks.

“I don’t know!” You groan. “That’s the problem. I have no idea what’s been going on with him. I followed him a few days ago and he brushed it off. Like it was no big deal but he was sneaking around behind my back. He said he was planning something or some shit. Whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean.”

“You don’t think he’s like cheating--”

“No! Of course, not. He would never. I….” You bite your tongue because Molly doesn’t know about Robin. “I don’t know what the fuck he’s been doing but now he’s not answering. And I got this feeling. Hold on I’m at a stop light.” You groan, quick-dialing Jason as you watch the red light. The two of you listen as it goes to voicemail. And you try again. Voicemail. “Something’s wrong.” You say as the light turns green and you start weaving between cars.

“Because he’s not answering and you have a feeling? You sound paranoid.”

“I know.” You grit your teeth. “But he’d answer for me. I know he would. Especially calling him twice. He’d answer. I just...remember a few weeks ago when he got his ass kicked?”

“Yeah.” Molly wishes she could forget.

“Okay, so what if he went out on his own to try that guy again or something?” You spit, avoiding details about Robin because you're thinking he’s out Robining alone for some sort of spite against Bruce. He’s still mad. And maybe he froze and it got bad.

“Why would he do that?”

“Because he’s Jason.” You let out a breath.

You get back to the manor, switching the call to your phone instead of your helmet. You make your way into the manor and call for Jason. The manor is silent. It’s not even like that’s abnormal. Jason isn’t really loud and neither is Bruce. But, the quiet and lack of Jason answering is eery and unsettling.

You search your rooms and living rooms and kitchens. He’s nowhere to be found and your heart sinks further. So, you go to the Batcave. Hoping maybe, he’s just training. Maybe Molly is right. Maybe he’s just busy. Maybe his phone died and he didn’t realize it. That’s possible. It’s Jason. He isn’t the type that’s glued to his phone. Maybe.

But that hope dies as you reach the Batcomputer, seeing Amusement Mile pulled up with the Joker’s location.

No, no, no, no.

“I’m sure he went out and he’ll be--”

“Fuck!” You yell as you look to the display case. The Robin suit is gone.

Molly calls your name and now she’s worried.

“What a fucking---” You cut yourself off as you grit your teeth. “Molly, I gotta go.”

“Molly yells your name, her voice now completely panicked.

“I can’t. I’m sorry. I’ll call you. I have to call Bruce.” You rush as you hang up, running over to your own display case holding your suit. You rip the case open and grab the suit as you put Bruce on speaker. “Bruce!?” You yell into the phone as you jump around, getting the suit on as fast as you can.

This can’t be happening. The Joker? Of all fucking people, that’s who he decides he’s going to go after to prove himself? Why the hell would he ever do that? You try your best not to focus on the millions of questions you have for him and the fact you're ready to scream at him for the twenty-four hours. You have to focus because it’s the fucking Joker. He’s taken too much from you.

Bruce can hear the absolute panic in your voice. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Jason! I fucking told you! He went after the fucking Joker!” You scream into the phone as you zip the front of your suit and put the mask over your mouth.

“I told him not to.” Bruce says calmly, but a part of him is panicking.

Bruce doesn’t panic but there is no way you would be calling him and telling him this if it weren’t true. Jason knows better. Why would he go after the Joker? On his own?

“Oh, because Jason is so fucking good at following instructions?!” You run over to the weapons once you're completely suited up.

On the one hand, Bruce could send you after him. That’s at least, two against one. But, it’s the Joker. And Bruce knows he’s more ruthless than anyone. It’s a fun game to him like whack-a-mole. And the prize is always bloodshed. He also knows how you feel and if he sends you, not only could you go out and get killed but you could kill him first. That’s a life on Bruce’s conscious.

“Do not go anywhere. I’m on a flight—“

“No! You don’t get to tell me to fucking sit here and hope for the fucking best. He is everything to me and I am not gonna sit here and let him get fucking killed, Bruce!” You seeth and the Joker should have been killed a long fucking time ago. You swear, if the Joker even lays a single finger on him, you’ll do it her damn self. Bruce is too much of a coward of what he could become if he did it. You don’t care. “The Robin suit is gone, the Joker is gonna fucking kill him and it’s all your fault!” You scream as you gather knives.

“Stay put.” Bruce is stern on the other line. “It will be dangerous and you aren’t prepared--”

“No! Fuck you!” You snip back, gathering as many knives as you can carry. “I’m gonna save him, kill the damn Joker since you’re too damn cowardly to do it and then I’m calling Dick.” You fume on the other end. “I’m gonna beg him if I have to to come and bring us back to San Franciso because fucking clearly, he’s worse off here!” You scream before hanging up the phone and heading towards the exit.

It’s not that he’s scared or even feeling uneasy. His head is clouded with a sense of nothing. Everything is just numb as he cuts the chain into the amusement park.

Jason should be scared and there’s a gnawing at the back of his head that is screaming and howling for him to be scared. To turn around. This is a bad idea. This is bad. There are red flashing lights begging him to turn around but that sense of adrenaline that would normally kick in and give him a little bit of common sense and self-preservation is being suppressed. It doesn’t exist. So, the normally loud and blinding lights that have been causing him so much pain over the last few months, aren’t loud enough. They’re useless.

As he walks further into the amusement park, he finds old and run-down games that grab his attention. This is the Joker’s hideout. It’s known. Of course, the maniac clown would like a closed amusement park. And Jason knows he should be hypervigilant. This is the Joker’s turf and he knows the Joker is here. But the drug keeps suppressing that, too.

He knows he should be more aware and more on guard but the drug gives him a false sense of confidence. He can do this. It’s the Joker. He’s just some crazy clown and if Bruce can take him down several times, Jason can do it. Bruce trained him, right? He knows better though. He should be scared and more aware. but then there’s a noise from behind him and he jumps anyway.

His heart skips before plummeting back into a resting rhythm as he spots a dead man with a creepy smile tugged on display. Jason’s eyes widen and there’s this small, tiny bit of fear that seems to bypass the anti-fear drug like a leaky faucet. And Jason starts to hear and see the red flashing lights in the back of his head in perfect color. But the point is that he isn’t supposed to feel fear at all.

Maybe his formula is a little off. How is he feeling any sense of fear? It’s barely there, barely even noticeable but it’s there enough where if he were in a normal state of mind, that alone would send him into a panic. He’d panic about being worried he’s going to panic. And that thought with the mixing of the drug, makes him miss the creeping steps of the Joker from behind him.

With a quick swing, a crowbar connects to Jason’s head and he’s sent right to the ground.

His head throbs and aches, a horrendous and shooting pain sending his head into a spin as his stomach turns. Blood drips down from his forehead, the warm liquid seeping down his cheek as he looks up to see the menacing and sadistic smile of the Joker looking down at him just as he pulls his arm back for another swing.

This swing connects with his jaw and Jason can hear the bone break. Jason’s mouth pools with blood, the taste of iron already becoming more nauseating. He groans out in agony as the Joker takes another hit to his head, his laugh echoing through the park.

His laugh rings through Jason’s ears with every blow and Jason thinks that laugh can penetrate any type of anti-fear drug. His hearing seems to get worse and worse but that laugh could pierce through solid steel. And he’s not supposed to be scared anymore.

But the Joker hits him again and Jason coughs up blood and fear starts to rush into his veins. Maybe it’s the overwhelming amount of adrenaline making the anti-fear drug wear off a lot sooner than it should. Maybe his formula needs to be tweaked. Maybe the anti-fear drug has a side effect, maybe it doesn’t work when he’s on the brink of death. Jason can’t think straight enough to figure it out. Instead, all he thinks is that he has never been more terrified than he is right now.

SMACK

WHACK

CRACK

Jason’s bones break as Joker takes a break from his face and works on his side and then his arms and legs. He swears this is the worst pain he has ever been in. The Joker hits him over and over and over again, the pain getting worse and worse as tears brim his eyes. He claws at the ground in desperation, a failing attempt to move away. But, the bones are being broken one by one and he can feel the shards with every movement. And he is so fucking sorry.

SMACK

He’s so sorry to Bruce because he should have listened. He should have been a better Robin. He should have listened. He’s so sorry he wasn’t better. He’s so sorry he wasn’t a better son. He tried his absolute best but he could have tried harder. Maybe he could have told Bruce what was going on. Maybe he could have told Bruce more about therapy. Maybe he could have explained anything that ever happened with him. Maybe he could have just tried to be a son. He’s so sorry and all he wants to do is tell Bruce he’s sorry. And thank you.

He wants to thank Bruce for trying. For taking him in. Letting him be his son and letting him be Robin. Bruce, in his weird way, cared about him and loved him. He tried even if he sucked at it sometimes. Jason wants to tell Bruce thank you.

SMACK

Jason screams as the crowbar finally shatters one of his ribs. His breathing is becoming ragged as the Joker takes another swing to Jason’s chest. The Robin suit offers a lot of protection but the Joker is relentless. He’s getting off on every scream and groan and gasp Jason lets out. It’s as if the sight of the blood seeping onto the ground and the backswing of splatter gets him off. He’s having the time of his life beating Jason to death. And Jason has never been more scared.

SMACK

He’s so scared and sorry. He’s so fucking sorry to you and he would give anything to tell you that right now. All he wants to do is call you. He wants to take it all back. He wants to go back home and crawl into your bed with you. He wants to hug you and kiss you and promise he’s doing okay and he’ll be okay. And you’ll be okay. He wants to promise you that it’ll all work out in the end, even if he doesn’t make it. He wants to tell you not to be mad or sad because he doesn’t deserve it. You don’t deserve to dwell on his inevitable death.

You both knew it was going to be him. You liked to fool yourself into thinking maybe it would be you but at the end of the day, you both knew it would always be him. Jason always knew it was gonna be him who died first. And he wants nothing more than to promise you it’ll be okay. You’ll be okay. He doesn’t want you to run yourself into the ground over him. But he knows you and he knows as the Joker takes another horrendous and agonizing hit to his skull, you’ll be miserable. This will be it for you. He’s not gonna make it and you're gonna lose your entire mind. You always said you would. And it’s all his fault.

SMACK

CRACK

He wants to shake you and tell you he’s so fucking sorry. He should have just told you what was going on. He should have told you. You would have helped him. You wouldn’t have been mad or yelled at him. Of all people, you would have understood why he went to Crane. You would have gotten it. You always understood him. And he should have told you.

He shouldn’t have lied to you. He’s so fucking sorry. And he’s so sorry for not loving you better, you deserve someone who’s not gonna do this. You deserve someone who’s not gonna get killed and didn’t even stand a damn chance. And he is so sorry he’s going to leave you alone.

He doesn’t think he’s gonna make it.

The Joker's laugh starts to sound further away as he takes another blow to the right side of his face, the crowbar connecting hard and steady against his ear. Then he can’t hear anything from that ear at all as blood starts to drip out. It’s the worst headache of Jason’s life. He can hear his skull cracking under the blows. He feels the blood seeping through his suit and onto the ground. There’s so much blood. He’s lightheaded and dizzy. It’s so hard to breathe.

SMACK

He’s not gonna make it.

And he finds himself, hoping against all odds, that someone will find him soon anyway. Maybe help will come just in time. Bruce is supposed to be the world’s greatest detective. Jason is his son. He’d figure it out. Maybe he already did and he’s actually close. Maybe he lied to Jason and he’s actually in Gotham and on his way. And maybe, you figured it out.

You're smart. You can fight off the Joker enough to get you both to safety. You were trained by Jason, Dick, Bruce. Jason believes you could do it. Maybe you're on your way. You're smart. You know Jason better than anyone. You’ll figure it out. You always figure it out. Maybe help is coming.

SMACK

Everything goes black for just a few seconds and then it’s blurry and shifted. He can’t see out of his right eye. Jason doesn’t know what’s going on as the Joker takes another smack. His laugh is just a reverberation now. The only sound he can even hear is the cracking of bones. Nothing else. And he doesn’t think he can breathe real well. He can’t move his jaw. He can’t even find the strength to try to move anymore. It all hurts and there’s so much blood.

Jason silently begs for the help he doesn’t realize will be too late just as the Joker takes a larger and harder blow to the front of his face.

He doesn’t think he’s gonna be able to hold on.

You drive to the abandoned carnival, coming up on one of the gates. Jason’s bike and helmet are right outside and the chain to the gate has been cut. You know. You know this isn’t good. It’s completely silent and you are terrified.

Silence can’t be good and a part of you hopes that maybe the Joker wants to play with Bruce. Maybe the Joker wants to kill Jason in front of him, to taunt him, that’ll give you some time to have a plan and get you both out of there, maybe. Or Bruce could make it in time to save you both.

But you creep around the grounds, cautiously but quickly. You're paying close attention to your head, making sure you don’t miss it if the throbbing you're certain will start. But, it doesn’t. Instead, you reach an open tunnel with carnival games and there’s someone lying on the ground.

It’s dark and despite you knowing damn well if it were the Joker on the ground, Jason would be over him bragging and cheering for himself, you hope it’s the Joker anyway. You hope against everything that the person laying on the ground is the Joker.

The closer you get though, the more you get the picture of the yellow and black cape.

Jason.

“No…” Your lip quivers as you pause. You're terrified to get any closer. It can’t be Jason. It can’t be. It can’t be. It can’t be. He’s strong and smart. He knows better. “No, no, no, no…” Your voice cracks as you start to walk closer and you can see him now.

There’s blood everywhere. He’s laying in a puddle of red and there’s blood splatter on the ground and the games. A bloody crowbar is tossed to the side and Jason is completely still. Your heart is in your throat as you close the distance, dropping to your knees.

“Jay…” Your voice is a whimpered whisper as you put your hand on his shoulder, pulling him to face you.

His body is completely limp and as he turns, you get the gruesome sight of what the Joker has done.

Jason’s face is mangled and unidentifiable. You can see his teeth through his jaw while there’s blood and bruising around the other side of his face. His face is swollen and paler than usual. There’s blood smeared across his face and on his lips. Some of his hair is wet with blood and sticking to his forehead. And his eyes are closed, not even trying to open.

Your heart shatters in that instant. The weight of the world has been on your shoulders for years and with the sight of his body, the world finally falls. It tumbles around you, breaking into unfixable pieces. The foundation keeping you steady is lifeless and cold and bloody.

Your lip quivers as tears start to trickle down your cheeks. Everything around you feels heavy and cold. The lump in your throat is so big and hard, you swear it’ll suffocate you finally and you’ll finally be out of this misery. The reaper creeps back from the shadow of your head, a smile similar to Joker’s shining back at you and he’s finally won. He won in a way you never thought he would.

Killing the last good parts of you, by killing him.

“Jason…” You whimper, one of your hands hesitantly going to his neck to check for a pulse. Nothing. There’s no pulse, just cold skin under the blood. “No…” You whine, tears now blurring your vision. You lean down, trying to hear him breathe and there’s nothing. He’s completely still. No breathing. Nothing. Just lifeless. “Jay, please, you can’t die.” You let out a sob, pulling Jason’s body into your lap. “I love you. You can’t die. I need you.” Your words are slurred as your nose runs and the cries grow louder.

You sob, rocking back and forth. You knew it would happen. You knew. And you should have known Jason was up to something when he didn’t go with you today. You should have known. He can’t be dead.

You swallow the lump in your throat, moving to rest Jason’s head flat on the ground while you pull out your phone, hands covered in blood. You call Bruce, putting the phone on speaker and then you start CPR. You swear it’ll be useless but you have to try anyway.

You swore every single day that you would never give up on him. And CPR isn’t going to help, but fuck it, you're not going to give up. So, you try anyway. You have to fucking try.

“Did you find him?” Bruce asks as soon as he answers.

Those words get you to let out another cry, your arms shaking as you push down on Jason’s chest. “Bruce!” You scream as your arms tremble.

Everything stops for Bruce. Pain shoots through his heart like a barbed wire arrow. He knows. He knows that cry because he’s let it out himself all those years ago. He’s heard other people. Babs. Dick. He knows and yet, it can’t be true. Not his son.

“What happened?” Bruce shakes his head, using all of his willpower not to let his voice shake.

“What do I do?” You cry, your cries are loud but there’s a weakness in your voice. “He’s not breathing and the Joker beat him with a fucking crowbar! Bruce, what do I do?” You beg Bruce to help. Your voice is slurred and panicked, pleading with all of the energy in you. He’s fucking Batman, he has to help. “What do I do? He’s not breathing. There’s so much blood, Bruce, help, please. You have to save him. Help me save him, please. Bruce, I can’t lose him, I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t.” You keep pumping on Jason’s chest but you swear it’s not working and not just because the Robin suit is so sturdy you're barely getting a compression in. You beg him and beg him, as if your pleas are enough to bring Jason back.

“I’ll send someone, keep doing CPR.” Bruce instructs with a square jaw.

“Bruce, I don’t…..I don’t think it’s helping.” You wail and you can’t breathe. It’s so hard to breathe. “I don’t think…..Bruce….” You let out a cough as your elbows shake and you're losing rhythm of the chest compressions.

“Keep going, don’t stop until they get there. I’m landing soon.” Bruce instructs and he never should have gone. He should have seen it. How the hell did he miss this?

“There’s so much blood…Bruce.”

Barbara Gordon and a few trusted people close to Bruce show up first. They find you still trying to perform CPR. You're slower now, and you're not getting the impact you need to make a difference. Your arms are weak and you're nearly hyperventilating and choking on your own tears.

The paramedics try their best to get you off of him but you scream and yell and cry for them to get off of you. You shove them off of you and you try and try and try. Bruce is still on the phone, telling you to let them do their job but you can’t. You can’t do it. You can’t because then you give up. You can’t give up on him. Not him.

“Hey.” Barabra wheels over a few feet away from you and she gets a look at the damage as her stomach turns and she knows he’s gone. “You need to stop.” Her voice is calm as she tries to keep it together.

“No!” You scream and you feel too weak to deal with any of it. He was your everything. “I can’t.”

The paramedics look at Babraba waiting to be told what to do and they know, too. His face is completely destroyed. He’s unrecognizable. The only reason Barabra even knows it’s Jason is because of the Robin suit. There’s brain matter on the ground. There’s more blood on the ground than there is in his body.

“Bluejay.” Barbara calls again, her voice cracking and this gets you to look at her. Even in the dark, Babara can see the redness of your eyes and the tears shining on the top half of your cheek above your mask. “He’s gone.” Babraba’s eyes go misty and you shake your head.

“No…” You whine and you finally stop but your hands stay on his chest. “No, not…no.” You let out a sob and you can’t even see Barbara anymore, the tears have blurred everything together. “I can’t.” You fall back, one of the paramedics catching you so you don’t hit the pavement too hard. The other paramedic jumps in and to Jason, just to be completely positive.

You shove the paramedic off of you and walk the few feet weakly to Barbara. “I-I…what--” You suck in a harsh breath, your breathing so rapid you feel like you're going to pass out.

“Sit down.” Barbara tries to keep her composure and you collapse with a loud sob, your entire chest feeling like it’s been set on fire with gasoline.

It can’t be him. Why him? He was good. He was a good person and funny and smart and kind. Jason had a heart of gold. Why did it have to be him? It never should have been him. He always deserved so much better. He never deserved this. This isn’t fair. It’s not right and it’s so fucking painful you wish the ground would just open up and swallow you whole.

“Babs!” You scream. “I-I-I don’t I don’t wanna do it anymore.” Your teeth grit together as your words are wet and slurred.

You can’t breathe. You can’t breathe. It’s hard to breathe and your chest feels like it’s all caving in under the pressure. Maybe putting your heart in a pressure cooker would be less painful than this. Everything fucking hurts.

Barbara rests a hand on your shoulder and she knew Jason was reckless but she didn’t think he’d ever actually get himself killed. He was smart. Smarter than this. You cover your face with your hands, not caring you're covered in Jason’s blood. You just want everything to stop. The pain and the world and time and everything. You want it all to be over.

“I’m so sorry.” Barbara offers and there is nothing she can say that’s going to make this better.

“I can’t.” You spit and push Barabra’s hand off you before getting to your feet.

You push through the pain, running away. Barbara yells after you but you do not care. You make yourself run through the pain and the weakness. If you can do anything, it’s run from it. You want to run as far as your legs will let you. To the bike where you can speed away from it all. Speed so fast the pain goes away. The agony will fade if you run. You can do it. You tell yourself you can as tears fall down your face. You toss the helmet on and hop on the bike, and leave. You've always been good at running. You can run from it.

You're in the bathroom back at the manor, scrubbing the blood off of your hands through tears. Everything is blurry and painful. It’s burning and agonizing and stabbing. It aches and throbs. Breathing is the hardest thing you've ever done. You try to get in a full breath but every time you do, a sob immediately follows and it’s like the wind is knocked out from your lungs all over again. Your head is spinning with a throbbing headache and your eyes are so puffy you can barely open them. But, there’s blood staining your hands, Jason’s blood, and you have to get it off. You have to get it off.

Get it off. Get it off. Get it off.

You grit your teeth so hard that your jaw starts to pulse and you hate it. You hate this so much. You hate it and you want him back. You need him. He is everything to you. He is your everything. He is your best friend and you love him more than you've ever loved anyone. And he’s supposed to take care of you and you're supposed to take care of him. And it’s not fair and it’s senseless and it was brutal and you scream at the top of your lungs before falling to the floor. You lean against the counter, pulling your legs to your chest as you put your hands on your face because you can’t do this anymore

You talked about what life you could have together. And you swear you saw it. For the first time, you were optimistic about a future. Because you had him. He gave you all of this hope for the future because Jason could survive anything. He was supposed to survive anything. He was good at it. Dodging whatever fucked up shit the world was going to throw at him. And now he’s not. He didn’t dodge fast enough. And you were supposed to have an apartment one day together. And make dinner together. And have a dog and a cat because Jason always really liked cats. He’d come home and you’d clean up the blood and he’d do the same for you when patrol got a little messy. You were supposed to have a life together.

You don’t know how you're supposed to get up again after this.

And then Molly walks in.

She’s been crying since Bruce called her and asked her to check on you. He’s worried about what you might do and seeing you on the floor absolutely hysterical, she knows why. Of course, she knew it would be bad. Her best friend just lost the person she loves. Of course, you're going to be a mess but….you're covered in blood and Bruce didn’t tell her what happened. And on top of that, you still have the suit on, minus the mask, which is another surprise Molly did not expect to get today.

Molly says your name with hesitance as she walks in, sitting on the floor in front of you.

You look up, moving your hands. “M-Molly.” You whine, your bottom lip trembling, the hood of your suit barely lets Molly get a glimpse of your face that’s covered in blood as well.

Molly nods. “Bruce called.” Her voice is just above a whisper.

“He….Molly…h-h-he…d-di-died..” You let out a sob as you shake your head and you just want it to be done. You're so fucking tired.

“I know.” Molly lets out a soft cry, sniffling softly.

“H-he’s dead.” Your entire body jerks with another cry as you hang your head. You're so fucking tired. Tired of all of it.

“I know.” Molly closes the distance between you, pulling you into a hug and allowing you to completely break against her. And then Molly starts crying because Jason was her best friend, too. “I’m so sorry.” Molly manages to get out.

“I can’t do it.” Your voice is weak against her.

“Can’t what?” Molly pulls away, her hands still on your shoulders as if trying to stabilize you.

Any of it. You can’t do any of it. You're covered in his blood and it all hurts. You're weak and tired and exhausted. It’s all agonizing and paralyzing and numb. It’s all too much. And you just cannot do any of it anymore.

“Blood and…” Your breathing is labored, your head swaying slightly. And you're so lightheaded and nauseous. “Do this.”

“One thing at a time.” Molly stands up and grabs a wash rag, wetting it with soap and water. Molly can break later. You need help. “Let me see.” You hand your hand to Molly and Molly starts cleaning.

Molly expects to find some sort of wound but she finds nothing. The more she scrubs, the more blood comes off and it’s just your skin under it. And she shakes her head because what the fuck happened to Jason that got you covered in his blood? A part of her almost doesn’t want to know. But, she has to ask anyway. Bruce was a little vague. So, after a few minutes, with your cries becoming quieter, Molly decides to ask.

“C-can I ask you what happened?” Molly is seeing that you're actually one of the suited vigilantes that roam Gotham so she’s guessing something with a bad guy went a little south.

And you don’t care anymore. None of it matters anymore. Jason is dead. It’s not his secret anymore. You're in your suit anyway and Bruce isn’t home. You're all alone anyway.

“Joker beat him to death with a crowbar.” You answer plainly Molly feels her stomach turn.

“What?” Molly’s heart stops in her chest.

You nod as you sniffle, watching Molly clean the remainder of Jason’s blood from your hands. “He was Robin.” Your voice is hoarse as you talk.

Molly pauses, blinking at you and she’s so confused. And this whole thing is growing more and more unsettling. Maybe she shouldn’t have asked.

“He…Jason was Robin?”

You nod again, sniffling. “Yeah.”

“You found him?” Molly asks. Why did you have to find him? Of all people, it just had to be you. Of course, it was you.

“Yeah.” More tears start to fall from your eyes and you can see him every time you blink. That’s going to be your last memory of him and it hurts so fucking bad you want to leave.

“I’m…I’m sorry. Is this all his?” Molly’s voice grows a little panicked. She can’t even imagine the sight you walked in on.

“There was a lot of blood. The head bleeds a lot.” You clear your throat before you sniffle again.

Molly is terrified you're going to start giving her gory details. Not on purpose but because you're too tired to care. The crying is slowing down and that always means you will talk. You stop caring and then you talk. Molly doesn’t want to know and you don’t need to relive the horror verbally.

“Okay, um…okay you stay here. I’m gonna get you some clothes.” Molly stands up quickly.

“C-can you…Jsaon’s room, there’s a…maroon hoodie. It was his favorite.” You look up at her as Molly heads to the doorway.

“Yeah, I’ll be back.” Molly nods quickly.

You let out another cry and you don’t think you’ll be able to survive this one. It’s too heavy. It’s too much. There’s only so much one person can take. And you swear as you shiver on the bathroom door with broken sobs tearing up your throat that Jason Todd was your breaking point. Jason Todd is dead and you swear you’ll never recover.

prev. chapter | next chapter

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

A/n: So, this is what Jason looks like in his death scene and he looks scared. Which, is probably a plothole because Titans (or them trying to throw us off since it's episode 1 ?? idk) but I decided I was just gonna use that anyway for fun lol Also fun fact, I was originally not going to include his death scene since we saw it in the show but then I rewatched UTRH and was encouraged by my best friend to make it worse so I did. And I'm really glad I included it lol I'm sorry but I really like how it turned out 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 // @stainedstardom // @baebeepeach // @legend-o-zelda // @harleycao // @somehow-lovable-trash // @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx // @deyja-the-duck // @jasontoddslover // @captainmarvels-blog // @totallynotkaibiased // @scarlovesyou // @whydoyoucare866 // @littlemeowmeow1000

#jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x reader #red hood fanfic #red hood fanfiction #red hood x reader #titans fanfic #titans fanfiction #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction #petrichor

97 notes · View notes

archiveoftara · 8 months

Text

Maniac

"I don't feel so good, Lockwood."

Lockwood looked at your bloody hand clenching to your waist. The poor agent couldn't help but to panic at the amount of blood pooling around you.

"Help is on it's way." He calmly reassured you. The last thing he want is to scare you.

You don't really remember how you ended up in this situation. Stuck in a room full of visitors with your rival company, not to mention bleeding to death.

"LOCKWOOD LOOK OUT."

*72 Hours Ago*

"This case is driving me nuts." George banged the book on the table. "It's nuts." Furiously running his hands over is hair.

"How bad is it?" bored lockwood chomps off an apple.

"A group of nuns mysteriously commits suicide, the reason is still unknown. About 20 years ago, an elite group of agents from Fittes was sent to clean the building but no one survived." Lucy exclaimed.

"We've been through worse. I'm sure we can handle it." Lockwood nonchalantly said.

The agents knew it was futile to argue with their employer. George sighed in defeat before leaving the room. Lucy took a moment and said "Just think it through for once Lockwood."

The door closed leaving him with his thoughts.

The next morning, Lockwood storms into the kitchen "I can't believe I'm saying this but I think we need help."

"Yes." Lucy high fives George. They thank the lord for knocking some sense in him.

"And I know just the person who we can help us." Lockwood smirkes.

The trio find themselves standing in front of an old building. "Y/L/N Agency" written on the door.

"I thought you hate her." George uttered.

"Yes I do."

"I thought we were going to Fittes or something?" Lucy questioned.

"No we're not." Lockwood explains. "Listen guys, I know we should have gone to Fittes but see it this way, it's easier to share the commission with one person than four people."

"Besides, I don't want to see Kipps breathing near me." He said the last part in annoyance.

"Still can't get over that one case where he saved our arses?" George teased.

"Shut up, George." He rings the doorbell. While Lucy and George shared a look.

"Oh my! What do I owe to the pleasure of 'The Anthony Lockwood' gracing my humble home?" You smirked.

Lockwood threw a light insult to hide his astonishment. He noticed you grew your hair longer since the last time he saw you. Nevertheless, he always finds you beautiful. You clear your throat and gesture him to come in.

"So you need my help Anthony?" You tease him.

"Focus please."

"Okay time for the real question, what's in there for me?" You squint your eyebrows.

"Handsome commission. 30-40." Lockwood gave you his brightest smile.

"Make it 50 or forget it."

After some heavy negotiation, Lockwood finally agreed to your terms.

*Present time*

"Lockwood...tell my cat I love her."

"Shut up, you're not dying. I won't let you die." He slashed the visitor he was fighting but the visitors were strong and you both needed desperate help.

Lockwood got an idea and looked at you "y/n, do you trust me?" He sincerely asked you.

"No." You sincerely replied back.

"Smart woman." He carefully lifts you up and moves you to the closet.

You heavily breath in pain "I'm scared."

"I know but I need you to stay calm. Okay? Breath with me." He rubs the back of your hand, slowly taking deep breaths. It calmed your nerves down a little but you know you don't have much time left.

It's now or never.

"Lockwood, I don't know how long I'm gonna be alive..I need you to know something or I'll regret it forever. I really.. really like you." You coughed.

"No.1 I won't let you die. No.2..I like you too. A Lot in fact" he rested his forehead against yours, silently soaking up the moment when he heard Lucy calling his name. You both look at each other and you shout as loudly as you can.

It's been two weeks since the incident. You didn't face Lockwood in the time being partly because you were recovering but mostly you felt embarrassed about your sudden confession and probably looked like a fool in front of him. It's a shame you didn't know he felt the same too, about himself.

You were laying on the couch, switching channels when you heard the bell ring. "Coming" you slowly made your way to the door only to find the agent you were trying so hard to avoid.

"Hi" his eyes sparkled.

The room turned stuffy and awkward in no time. You felt self conscious under his cautious gaze.

"How's your injury?" He uttered.

"Oh..it's..it's alright I'm okay." You nervously chuckle "tea?" You raised the teapot.

"This is the fifth time you offered me tea y/n, I think I'm fine." He smiled. Goddamn that smile.

"I think it's time to address the elephant in the room."

You gulped a heavy lump in your throat.

He takes a deep breath, "I don't know how or when I started liking you, but here I am. I tried to mask my feelings with arguments, insults and I'm extremely sorry for that. I should have been more mature. I really like you and I don't know what I will do without you." Lockwood continues "Sorry, this is just really different from our constant arguing."

"I know" you smiled at him "Do we like...hold hands?" You shyly hold his hand over the table causing the both of you blush like a bunch of maniacs.

Maybe love turns you into a maniac.

I'm back with another request I hope you like it. I'm sorry if it sucks cuz life sucks right now. I should probably write a book on my life as it loves to be so dramatic. Anyways, hope you are doing well. Love you lots!! See you in the next chapter xoxo

Word count: 1008

#fandom #lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #fanfic #locknation #lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x reader #save lockwood and co

68 notes · View notes

thatwriterchaotic · 1 year

Text

So this isn't how I normally write. I started this one shot awhile ago and never finished it but here we are. I did like how this turned out but let me know if you liked it or not.

Flower's 💐

Summary

When Daryl was young his mother was fascinated with flower's. Daryl always went on walks with her on day's where his father would get really drunk and angry. She would distract him by showing him flower's and picking them together. Now since the apocalypse, Daryl finds himself in a big open field picking flowers for his loved one. He remembers her and how he wished she could see him now. Happy and loved by you.

Warning’s: drinking, yelling, mentions of abuse, bad home environment

Word count: 1, 500

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Young Daryl’s POV

It was another night with his drinking and yelling again. I wish he would stop yelling for once. He always yelled at Ma over the littlest things. Merle wasn't around tonight, probably out with his friends. I did my best to ignore the yelling between Dad and Ma. Distracting myself with playing with my toy motorcycle Merle stole for me. I could hear Ma yelling back at him from the living room. “All you do is drink and lay on the damn couch all day! You never support this family or those boys” She yelled loudly, it almost made my head hurt.

I quickly covered my ears hating the yelling. I knew this would go on for at least 2 more hours. A loud crash came from the same room. Dad must of thrown another beer bottle again. Footsteps came quickly to my bedroom door. Ma came in with a smile on her face. “Hey honey how about we get outta here huh?” She said softly to me. I smiled back at her and got off the bed and took her hand. My toy motorcycle in the other.

We quickly walked out of the house together hand in hand. We lived in a trailer park currently since Ma was the only one working and Dad barely did anything. Ma worked really hard to take care of Merle and I. We both knew she loved us dearly and that Dad was a dead beat.

Ma didn't say much until we where a good distance away from home. “You got your little motorcycle?” She said sweetly looking down at me. I nodded and showed her my toy. “Merle got it for me Ma” I said with a smile. We kept walking together peacefully. We soon stopped at a park bench and we sat down together.

She wrapped her arm around me and pushed my hair back from my face. “Better? Not so loud huh” She said as she kissed my forehead. I smiled big and curled up into her side. “A lot better Mama” I said to her. I knew Dad's yelling and drinking really upset her. I wish I could make it all better for her. Ma deserved better.

“Look at the pretty flowers Daryl, why don’t we pick some?” Ma said to me softly. I smiled and nodded. I sat my toy motorcycle down and got up. Gently picking the beautiful flowers by the bench. “For you Ma!” I said with a grin, she smiled at me and took it. “Thank you sweetheart, such a gentleman” She spoke softly. I've always loved my Ma. Always tried to protect her and keep her safe. Even if I accidentally got in the way between their fights.

I sat back down beside her. We sat in silence for a bit. Just enjoying the quiet for once. “Daryl, promise me someday when you have someone special you'll bring her flowers and be a gentleman to her, okay? Can you do that for me?” Ma asked me as she sniffled. She always tried to hide her crying from me but I knew. I hugged her tightly to comfort her. “I promise Mama!! I'll bring her flowers everyday if I have too” I said to her.

Ma hugged me back, rubbing her hand up and down my spine. “Thank you my love” She said softly before scuffing up my hair and placing kisses on my face…..

End Flashback

Daryl's POV

That was the last real memory that I have of my mother and I. I sighed softly as I kept walking through the forest. I don't know what really brought that back up in my mind again. They where all gone now. Dad, Ma and Merle… Only memories is what I have left and that dumb little toy I kept.

I cleared my head and kept walking, soon finding the small stream that ran through here. I kept aware of my surroundings. Making sure there was no walkers or animals I would scare off. I'm supposed to be out hunting but I couldn't get her out of my head.

I do miss her, almost everyday. Same with Merle and his dumb voice. Can hear him now in the back of my head nagging me. I shook my hair out of my face and continued until I found the spot where I needed to go.

I shouldn't even be doing this but I did make a promise to her. For that someone special.. It was you. Ever since I laid my eyes on you I knew if she was here. She would make sure I would get you flowers almost every damn day. I smiled a little to myself. She would have loved you.

With your cocky attitude and how selfless you where. Always worried about everyone else and caring for others. How gentle and sweet you where with Judith and Coco. Wanting to keep living and making a life for ourselves and the one's we love most. Some of the many reasons I fell for you. Once I made it down the small hill there it was. The big open field filled with wild flowers. It was beautiful.

“Wished you where here to see it Ma. To see us, my family, everyone in Alexandria. You would have loved it.” I said softly to myself. I leaned down and plucked multiple flowers. All in different shapes and colors. “I made a promise to you and I'm keeping it, I'll always bring her flowers and love her with all my heart” I continued. I looked up at the sky and smiled before turning around. Holding the flowers safely in my hand. Never forgetting our promise..

Your POV

I sat and waited for Daryl to come home from his hunting trip. Rocking back and forth in the rocking chair on our porch. Today wasn't as stressful and it was nice. To finally have a break for once. With everything Alexandria has been through. You sighed and leaned back further in your chair.

Until that familiar sound of a motorcycle engine came rushing down the dirt path rode. You grinned knowing that it was the person you loved most. And the fact that he was on his way home to you. You waited and watched as Daryl pulled up to your house. You got up and ran to him wrapping your arms around his neck.

You inhaled, the scent of him that you loved so much. Brought you so much comfort through everything you've been through. You pulled back a little and kissed Daryl's cheek. “Welcome home D” You said softly to him. He smiled down at you wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Hey Sunshine” Daryl said sweetly back to you kissing your forehead. “I have a gift for you” He said softly. You grinned as your eyes light up. You loved when he gave you gifts. It always made your heart feel warm. Daryl pulled out a beautiful bouquet of wild flowers that he hid behind his back. “So a very long time ago I made a promise to my Ma, that once I had a special someone in my life I would always bring her flowers and treat them right. And I was never able to keep that promise until now” Daryl explained before gently handing you the bouquet of flowers.

You almost got teary eyed listening to his story. You knew how much Daryl loved his mother. Some nights he would talk to you about his past and talk about her. You smiled and held the flowers close to you. “Oh Daryl they are beautiful, she would have loved them too” You said softly as you leaned up and kissed him lovingly.

Daryl kissed you back wrapping his arms around you. You both pulled away slowly, happy to be back together again. If you wanted flowers everyday, Daryl would make sure to go out there and get them. Just to keep the promise he made with his mom.

#the walking dead #daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl x reader #twd fanfiction #daryl dixion imagine #my writing #daryl imagines #writer #writers on tumblr

158 notes · View notes

kywaslost · 1 year

Text

You Dreamt He Died - Bakugou!Reader

A/N: This is based on a dream I had a few days ago about my own brother. Thought it’d make a good comfort fic.

Warnings: heavy mentions of sh and attempted suicide, car wreck, death

If one were asked their thoughts of the Bakugou twins before they had met them, they’d say they thought they’d be at each other’s throats. That there would be constant yelling and bickering between the two. But they were all wrong. You and Katsuki were the best of friends, the perfect sibling duo. You were attached to Katsuki’s hip, and he was yours. Don’t get me wrong, there was the typical sibling rivalry, but for the most part you and Katsuki got along really well.

So well, in fact, that you often had nightmares about terrible things being done to your brother. Especially after the sludge attack, and his kidnapping. You’d been there for both villain attacks. The sludge villain had attacked you, too, but the press never talked about you. And you were there when the League got a hold of Katsuki. They tried to get you first, but you were able to get to safety before they could get you. But you were there when you watched your twin get pulled into some type of portal, taken away from you.

You had night mares. Sometimes they were bad enough to be considered night terrors. That’s why it wasn’t odd to see you leaving Katsuki’s room in the mornings, or asleep hunched over the counter in the kitchen, or knocked out on the sofa. But it was also uncommon for the other kids in 1-A to wake up to you screaming, or for you to miss class to go to therapy to talk about your dreams.

Sometimes you wouldn’t wake up from your nightmares until the morning. That’s just what happened tonight.

Your dream felt so real. You vividly remember standing in a hospital room, looking over the foot of the bed of your dead brother. All you could remember was pitch black. Then headlights. You were hanging upside down. Then you heard the doctor. Died in a car wreck, what a shame.

Suddenly you were standing in the dining room of your childhood home, silent tears streaming down your face. You turned to your parents.

“Mom,” you croaked out. “I can’t see reality for what it is. I struggle with derealization. Tell me. Is he dead? He’s never coming home? I’ll never see him again?”

Mitsuki glared at you, malice in her voice as she spoke, “yes.”

‘Did I kill him?’ you thought to yourself, crying harder. Then it was almost as if time skipped forward, and now you were on the top of a building somewhere in the city. You felt fat wet tears stream down your face. You opened your eyes, and the first thing you saw was blood. But it was your blood. A kitchen knife sat beside you on the chilly concrete roof. Were you trying to kill yourself? There was blood dripping down your arms.

You immediately pulled out your phone, pulling up Aizawa’s phone number. He had told you to always text or call him when you felt this way, so you texted him, telling him how you felt and what had happened.

Fast forward 8 hours, and this was his response:

Aizawa: Sorry, I was sleeping. I’m sorry about what happened, hope you’ll figure it out!

How you were still alive now, you didn’t know. All you knew was that you were now standing in one of the halls of UA, breathless. There, standing alive and well in front of you, was Katsuki. His backpack hung over one shoulder as he spoke to Kirishima over his shoulder.

You couldn’t believe your eyes. It was hard to breathe. Was this real?

“Katsu?” your voice shook. Katsuki’s head snapped to you, raising an eyebrow.

“What?”

Your eyes filled with tears as you ran into him, wrapping your arms around his waist. You hugged him tightly, not daring to let go. “Are you real?”

Bakugou hesitated, “Yeah? I’d hope so.”

You spent the remainder of your dream clinging to Bakugou’s arm, following him around. You missed your elected classes to stay with him, hoping to god that this wasn’t just a dream. That he’s alive and not dead by your own doing.

You startled yourself awake. You glanced around your bedroom in a panic, taking in your surroundings. You were in your dorm room, and moonlight streamed in through the cracked curtains of your balcony. You stumbled out of bed, tripping over your weighted blanket as you stumbled over to your bedroom door. You threw open the door and ran into the hall, leaving your door open as you ran to the elevator.

You weren’t sure where you were going, but you ended up on the first floor of the dorms. When the elevator dinged and you stepped out, all lights were off, except for the lights in the kitchen.

“Y/N?” a soft, confused voice called from behind you. You whipped around, hands pressed to your chest as you heaved in quick breaths. Your eyes landed on Izuku, standing in the entryway of the kitchen. His grey hoodie hung lower on one side, and covered his hands. He looked tired, and worried. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Where’s my brother?” you asked with a whimper.

“Kacchan?” Deku asked, coming closer to you. “He should still be in bed.” Izuku placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, eyebrows raised in concern. “You’re shaking, N/N. Why don’t you sit down for a moment?”

You shook your head, then wiped the tears streaming down your face. It was getting harder to breathe. “I want Katsuki. I need to see him!”

“Ok,” Izuku said calmly, running the hand that was on your shoulder up and down your arm. “Here. Let’s sit down, and I can call him, ok? Then he can come down here. Is that alright?” You nodded, following Izuku as he led you over to the living room. You took a seat next to Deku and curled in on yourself, waiting for your brother.

Deku sat closely beside you, wrapping an arm around his shaking form. He gave you one last worried glance before pulling out his phone and opening Katsuki’s contact. A moment passed before the boy beside you sighed and took the phone away from his face.

“He won’t answer,” he muttered to himself. But you heard his words, and they sent you into hysterics. You cried harder, choking on your sobs. Izuku rushed to comfort you, pulling you into a hug. “No, no, it’s ok,” he said desperately. “I’m sure he’s just asleep. I’ll have Todoroki go wake him, ok?”

“Hello?” a tired voice came from the other end of the phone. “Midoriya, is everything alright?”

Izuku chuckled nervously. “Hey, Todoroki. Sorry to bother you. It’s just, I think Y/N had a nightmare, or something like that, and she’s kinda panicky. Do you think you could wake up Kacchan? I tried to call him but he didn’t answer.”

Deku could hear Shoto’s sheets ruffle as he got out of bed. “Yes, I can do that. Where are you?”

“Down in the living room,” Izu answered. “Thank you, Todoroki.”

“You’re welcome Midoriya.” Then the two hung up.

“Hey,” Izuku cooed gently, trying to calm your tears. “Todoroki’s going to get your brother, ok? I promise, he’s alright.” The green haired boy held you tighter. “Let’s try and get your breathing under control, yeah?”

Todoroki stepped out of the elevator and onto the floor Bakugou’s room was located on. He made his way to the blond’s door and knocked. “Katsuki,” he called.

There was grumbling coming from behind the door. “Who the hell is it?” Katsuki grumbled.

“Todoroki,” the icyhot boy stated.

“What the hell do you want at 4 in the morning?”

“It’s Y/N.”

There was a sudden commotion coming from behind the door before it was thrown open and a tired yet worried Bakugou stood in the doorway. “What happened?”

When Todoroki and Bakugou made it down to the first floor, Izuku had managed to get your breathing under control and your tears down to a minimum. When the elevator door dinged and Bakugou stepped out, Todoroki followed closely.

“N/N?” Katsuki called out quietly, reaching out for you. “What happened?”

You jumped from the couch and into the arms of your brother. “I dreamt I killed you,” you cried. “I killed you in a car wreck.”

“Oh, honey,” he cooed softly. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” Bakugou’s crimson red eyes met Izuku’s, saying a silent ‘thank you’.

Bakugou rarely showed his soft side to anyone but you, but he was thankful that your guys’ childhood friend was there to calm you down, and that Todoroki was there to wake him up. You ended up going back to Katsuki’s room with him, spending the rest of the night with your twin. Thankfully it was now the weekend, so you could spend the rest of the day reassuring yourself that Katsuki was in fact alive and well beside you. But it was always nice to have him hold your hand and reassure you every once in a while.

#comfort #bnha #bnha comfort #x reader #platonic #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugou #bakugou x reader comfort #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou sister reader #soft bakugou #soft bakugou x reader #soft bakugo katsuki #nightmare comfort #tw: car wreck #tw: sh #tw: death #tw: suicide

221 notes · View notes

alexsoenomel · 1 year

Text

I Like Your Mind (Sam Winchester x Reader fluff, part 1)

Summary: A short story about how you started seeing Sam in a brand new light aka liking him part 1

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 1096

Note: Another oldie from me. Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)

After a week of being trapped in a small town, while working on a case that included killing vampires, you were just excited to be back home where you belong. That old dump of a bunker was your home and you loved every nook and cranny of it.

“I’m showering first.” You said from the back seat while Dean was driving. Sam was of course in the front seat, always taking the shotgun.

“OH HELL NO!” He said. Sammy just laughed.

“Dean, sweetie, do you remember that thing you did when you were drunk last week?” You smirked. He immediately gripped the wheel of his baby and looked at you for a split second in the rearview mirror. Oh he knew…

“What thing?” Sam asked.

“(Y/N) DON’T YOU DARE!”

“Well…” You started. “He…”

“YOU CAN SHOWER FIRST!”

You were pleased so you decided to lie.

“He got a little drunk and told me he’d like to see Castiel in his underwear….in his bed.” Well you kind of lied. He actually prayed for him to come over saying all kinds of true things such as “Oh you bootyful blue eyed angel from above.” And things like… “I’d like you to be the answer to all of my sexy prayers.” Among that was “I’d like Cas to be in my bed, in that sexy underwear…or no underwear its fine by me.” When Castiel showed up, he was confused, as always, and you decided to just laugh it off to avoid any awkward situations. Sam was sleeping at that time and never was a part of your little “drunken party.”

“Really Dean?” Sam looked at his big brother with a huge ass grin on his face. “You got a little crush on an angel.”

“Shut your pie hole Sam.” Dean said while trying to focus on the road. “In my defense I thought Cas was a chick I once dated in high school. She was angel looking and her name was Cassie.”

“ Sure Jan.” You teased.

“Oh shut up.”

The long boring drive turned out to be a going down the memory lane kind of drive. You talked about past, the good past filled with laughter and smiles and hours turned to minutes, minutes to seconds and with a blink of an eye, you were finally home.

GOOD. SHOWER. YES.

That day you took the longest most orgasmic shower in your entire life. You took the time to actually enjoy the shower and in the process you spent all hot water which Dean made slightly angry. But you decided to ignore him and finally get some motherfucking rest… while watching Criminal Minds…and eat popcorn. You got your pajamas and your favorite blanket and sat on the couch with a big bowl of popcorn.

As you turned on Netflix Sam came to the living room with his messy hair and sleep deprived face. He was wearing the same clothes as before.

“Hey there moose. ” You said as he sat next to you. Sam just gave you a bitch face and shoved some popcorn into his mouth.

“You spent all hot water (Y/N).”

“It’s not my fault all other bathrooms are out of service. Besides suck it up and wait a little bit, will ya?”

Few days ago the main pipe which was connected to other bathrooms in the bunker had cracked a little. Instead of fixing it, like you should, you guys just turned off the water in that pipe and decided to use the separate one on the other side of the bunker. You were just TOO LAZY.

“Yeah, yeah, what are you watching?”

“I’m about to watch Criminal Minds. Where’s Dean? Is he still pissed?”

“He was until he went into a deep state of coma.”

You chuckled a little looking at him. The lights were dimmed but you could still see that little sparkle in his eyes, that kindness and love which you adored about him. He looked so tired though.

“I’m sorry I wasted all hot water Sam.”

“It’s okay I love hot showers too so you’re forgiven.”

“Bless you moose.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Okay Sammy.”

“I’m not 12 (Y/N).”

“But it’s cute and it suits you perfectly.” You said making a sad puppy dog like face. He just rolled his eyes and looked at the screen.

“Let’s just watch the show.”

“Okay Sammy.” You teased.

Ten minutes later your bowl was empty and you were resting your head on his lap while hugging your blanket and watching your favorite genius ,named Spencer, fight the bad guys with his team. Sam actually loved the show as much as you so no one was bored.

“Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Why do you have a serial killer fetish as Dean calls it?” You turned your eyes away from the TV to look at him only to see his gaze looking right through you. He looked like a tired Jesus who came to answer all of your prayers from above.

“It reminds me that not all monsters are the things we hunt, and in the end of the day, human beings are capable of doing horrible things as well. Plus I do find minds of sociopaths and psychopaths to be very interesting.”

“Good point. You could have been an FBI agent just sayin.”

“Technically I am.” He smiled.

“You could have been the next Spencer Reid then.”

“I’m not that smart.”

“Yeah sure thing. You are the smartest person I have never met.” You started. “You are more than just a pretty face Sam, give yourself some credit. You are a hero and a smart one too.”

“You think I’m pretty?” He smirked.

You shyly turned towards the screen hiding the fact that you were blushing. Oh he was so pretty…

“Who doesn’t?” The episode was still rolling and you still didn’t know what was going on. Your head was in clouds and your heart was pounding like a very loud clock. WHAT IS THIS?? FEELINGS????

Your nervousness was taking over. “Besides your hair is as majestic and fabulous as Spencer’s.” You tried to get yourself out of it.

“Thank you.” You made him laugh. I MADE HIM LAUGH???

“Great now I don’t know what’s happening with this episode and it’s 1am. Thank you Sam.”

“Anytime.”

That night you went to bed at 4am, Sam didn’t take his shower and you haven’t watched Criminal Minds. Why? Because you were too busy talking to the handsome man with great hair and face aka Sam Winchester. That night you saw Sam in a brand new light which changed everything. That night you realized you wanted more than just friendship with that man….

In other words you were fucked.

PART 2 IS HERE

199 notes · View notes

universallychaoticpan · 1 year

Note

I'm assuming that ur request is open can u do where (separate) Dazai and Fyodor's gf have 3 breakdowns over their 1 week long midterm/Exams. But problem is that s/o don't won't to cry & make themselves look like a fool in front of her genius bf. I studied but its still so hard & I'm so stressed that my mind cannot process information.

Anon, you have guess correctly, as my requests are always open. And I relate, I was so stressed trying to cram for midterms for two of my worst classes and then I go and get sick lmao. Anyway, though this is coming out later than anticipated, I hope everything turned out well for you. Come back any time and I hope you enjoy :))

Hurriedly, you wiped the tears from your bleary eyes, glancing over at the clock. It's glaring red numbers - not made any softer by the single lamp you had on - read 3:42 and you groaned into your hands. The words on the page in front of you blurred together, both because of your exhaustion and how much you had cried. Your coffee was cold, having failed to lend you any energy hours ago, and you froze as you heard the floor by your bedroom door creak. No matter how bad it was, you couldn't let Osamu see you this way. Sweet, cocky, charming Osamu Dazai who never had to try. Dazai who was practically a genius, who sometimes forgot what day it was but never failed to ace all of his classes without the sleepless nights you had to put in.

Honestly, you couldn't understand what he saw in you. Compared to him, anything you did seemed small; if he ever really tried, he could probably cure cancer. And you loved him. But it was nights like these that you doubted every time he ever said he loved you. Why would you? You couldn't hold a candle to him. What were you doing? Studying endlessly for an exam to pass a class to earn a degree that would let you work forever. The thought made you even sadder.

Now you were so blind to anything but the notes in front of you you didn't notice your boyfriend, rubbing sleep from his eyes and brushing his dark hair from his still glittering eyes (how he managed to always look so awake you would never know, the man had a worse sleep schedule than anyone you'd ever met) as he pulled up a chair beside you.

"You know, if this was me, love, you would be scolding me to get to bed and 'get some sleep for once in your life.'"

You jumped, hiding your face in your hands. "The hell are you doing here?"

"Well I was terribly thirsty and imagine my surprise when I find you here of all places."

"No Dazai," you sighed. "I mean why are you here? Compared to you I look like a failure- anything I can do, you can do better with your eyes closed and your hands tied behind your back. So why are you here instead of with any of the other genius girls in this place?"

Dazai blinked. His eyebrow lifted, a questioning look making his lips turn up. "Love, you know how our professors always say there are no stupid questions? That was probably the exception."

"But I don't stand a chance against you! I'm not as impressive or-"

"Y/n listen!" Dazai looked exasperated, rubbing his eyes as he gathered himself. "What's so wonderful about you is how you always put everything you have into the things you do. You're right, you aren't like me; you're better and that's why. You have to care about the things you do, because your passion decides the outcome. And one can not be apathetically brilliant. Remember that."

You smiled, laughing through a sob as you felt his arms close around you, leaning into his chest and breathing him deep. "Now please," he sighed, "can we please go back to sleep?"

Fyodor grumpily turned over, eyes assaulted by the glow of your laptop.

"My love it is four in the damn morning, respectfully, what could you possibly be doing?"

Before he could see, you released your lip from between your teeth, blinking away your tears and steadying your shaky voice before you said a thing.

"Nothing, don't worry. Just go back to sleep."

There was a slim chance he'd believe you; you loved how smart he was, but now you were hoping to heaven and hell that he wouldn't take a second look. If he did, he would see the raw skin of your upper lip where you pulled it off, the streaks of dry tears making lines of your skin glow just a bit brighter. He would have seen the heavy way your eyelids begged to close, the dark shadows beneath them bringing light to your exhaustion.

Of course he saw it all. He sat up beside you, closing your computer and looked you in the eye. His eyes were made for the dark; staring through you even now.

"You're the one always preaching to everyone else how important it is to care for oneself hm?" He held your chin gently, forcing you to look at him. "I should hope you haven't forgotten your own words?"

"You're one to talk," you muttered. "You've never had to try at all. I hardly think you're in the position to lecture me."

To your surprise, he laughed; the sound was low in his throat and soothing in the heat of the dark.

"Perhaps my love, but you're not in the right either. We both know this won't help you."

"Better than doing nothing."

In a second, he had your body pressed into his own. He rolled you away from your laptop, switching your positions on the bed while keeping his arms around you.

"Do not dismiss your well being so easily, dorogaya. What magic takes place when you sleep." He drew a finger down your nose, making you giggle in spite of yourself. "I watch as the night takes your weary bones and crafts them new for the day. I watch you become new each night, washed clean in a midnight sea as your mind creates stories for you to call kingdoms."

"Poetic bastard," you grinned, as you sank into him with each slow exhale. You could feel your spine release when his hands slipped beneath your shirt, his palms warm on your skin.

"The day waits for you; it will come. Do not rush it. Enjoy the night with me."

#dazai x reader #osamu dazai x reader #fyodor x reader #fyodor dostoyevsky x reader #dazai bungou stray dogs #fyodor bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader

207 notes · View notes

irrelevantwriter · 2 years

Text

Haven’t You Heard?

Pairing: Eddie Munson (Stranger Things) x Female Reader/You

Rating: SFW (later chapters will contain smut and will be tagged accordingly)

Warnings: Language, banter (i fucking love banter), Eddie swinging his feet while sitting on a counter (*whispers* baby girl)

Word Count: 1207

Summary: Part 2. You encounter Eddie in the least likely of places.

A/N: Here’s part two in my Flattery Will Get You Everywhere series. We got more cute shit and more flirting. You will come to see that I fucks with banter as a form of flirting and foreplay. Hope you guys like it. Enjoy and share with your friends! Feedback is that good shit.💗

Disclaimer: As always, reader inserts are true reader inserts. If you find any specifics in regards to reader’s appearance, kindly let me know and I will fix that.

*Check out my other Eddie fics here

*Read Part 1 here

*Find future chapters here

***********************

“Are you serious Brenda?”

You asked the question, but you didn’t expect a real response. Mostly because you’d asked her the same exact question three times within the last hour.

You were on your way to the AC/DC concert, an event you had planned for months. And for some godforsaken reason unbeknownst to you, your friend had decided she needed to stop by Family Video to take back the VHS she’d rented a week ago.

“You know if I don’t they’ll charge me and my parents will be pissed,” she explained, hardly affected by your attitude.

You rolled your eyes but acquiesced. The show wasn’t far and you had enough time to get in and out.

Brenda made a hard right into the parking lot of the video store, barely stopping in enough time to not drive over the cement divider.

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered, peeling your finger off the door handle as she came to a complete stop. “Who gave you your fucking license?”

“Hawkins DMV. After the third try,” she boasted. As if that was worth bragging about.

“Be quick,” you ordered as you touched up your lipstick, seeing her grab the VHS and open her car door.

“You’re coming.”

At your blank expression she went on.

“I want some candy. Red vines. They got ‘em inside.”

You rolled your eyes, not bothering to hide the gesture. You also decided not to argue. You were already there so you might as well. You could pick up your own candy too. Plus, Brenda would get bitchy if she didn’t get her Red Vines.

You begrudgingly got out of the car and made your way to the front door, seeing a few figures behind the glass. The door chimed as you both passed through, Brenda making a beeline for the counter. You noticed Steve Harrington there with a girl, the both of them donning vests with the store’s logo. What you weren’t expecting to see was Eddie Munson sitting on top of the counter, legs dangling as he talked with a younger kid in a baseball cap that said “BYTE ME”.

When he finally noticed you, he was startled, looking at you for a long moment before believing you were really there. He waved, the action hesitant as the boy beside him spoke too low for you to hear, but you could tell it was full of emotion. Whatever he was saying.

You waved back, making your way over as Brenda handled her movie situation. You hadn’t seen Eddie since that party at Reefer Rick’s nearly a month ago. You’d thought about him quite a bit in that time. Thought about how your friends were right. He was sweet. And you liked that about him. Whether or not he’d ever wanna mix it up with the likes of you was a different story. You’d heard he’d harbored a crush on Chrissy Cunningham. And while the girl was cute, she was safe. A person who always erred on the side of caution.

And that wasn’t you.

“Hi,” Eddie announced a little too loudly when you finally made it over to him. The boy next to him rolled his eyes, apparently unimpressed by the greeting.

“Hey…no sacrificing of virgins today?” you teased.

“Thursday’s, remember?” he retorted, putting a finger to his own head and tapping.

“Oh yeah…must’ve gotten it mixed up with my weekly orgies,” you threw back, belatedly realizing the boy was still standing near you both. “Shit, sorry,” you amended, wincing as Eddie laughed.

“No worries. This is Dustin. He’s good people. Also a fellow devil worshiper and member of Hellfire,” he explained, shaking Dustin’s shoulder with more enthusiasm than the young boy appreciated.

Dustin shook off Eddie’s touch and smiled at you, his eyes momentarily dropping to the black bustier top you wore. You hadn’t exactly been expecting to walk into Family Video looking like this.

You’d worn head to toe black. Your pants were leather and tight as shit. It’d taken you nearly fifteen minutes just to shimmy them on. A price you were willing to pay. You’d thrown a cropped denim jacket on over the glorified bra, more for practicality than any need for modesty. You looked ready to go to a concert. And you were suddenly very aware of that fact.

Eddie noticed Dustin’s stare and punched him in the shoulder, signaling for him to get lost. After a silent conversion passed between the two, Dustin tipped his hat at you and took off towards Steve Harrington on the other side of the counter.

“Sorry about him. He’s special,” Eddie whispered, making you laugh.

“S’okay. I wasn’t really prepared to come here,” you gestured to your outfit, feeling somewhat sheepish. That might’ve been a first for you.

“So this isn’t your quiet night in with a movie ensemble?”

You shook your head, smiling as he teased you.

“Well for the record, you look great,” he added, voice lowered and infused with sincerity.

You bit your lip, feeling like a googly-eyed schoolgirl. “Thanks, Munson.”

A meaningful gaze passed between you both before you broke it. You looked for Brenda, suddenly uncomfortable with Eddie’s vulnerability. And your own.

You found her at the counter, now flirting with Steve while the other girl in the vest and Dustin restocked shelves. You rolled your eyes at Brenda, knowing that despite her having a boyfriend, she’d never pass up a chance to flirt.

“Where you guys headed anyway?”

Eddie’s voice brought you back, focusing on him again and the juvenile way he kicked his legs out from atop the counter. It was just like at Reefer Rick’s party. Deja vu.

“Indianapolis. For the AC/DC show,” you supplied, fumbling with your purse.

His eyes widened and his lips broke out into a wide grin, energy suddenly radiating off him like a toddler.

“No shit! That’s awesome! How’d you score those tickets?”

“Brenda’s uncle. He knows a guy who knows a guy. Supposedly.”

“Hey!” you both turn in the direction of the voice, seeing it was Brenda waving you over.

“Shit, I was supposed to grab some candy,” you hastily explained, getting your wallet out so you could make a mad dash for the candy aisle.

“Have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Eddie joked, wagging a finger at you in a mock sternness.

You giggled and began to back away as Brenda’s calls grew in impatience.

“Haven’t you heard, Munson? I do it all,” you flirted, disappearing with a wink.

You didn’t bother with the candy. You told Brenda you’d buy her drinks at the venue and a meal afterwards to compensate. You did it mostly to get her off your back about flirting with Eddie. She’d noticed at the party and at the Family Video. She encouraged your pursuit. The funny thing was, you hadn’t even realized it was a pursuit. You’d just been enjoying his company, but the more you thought about it, the more you definitely wanted to have sex with Eddie Munson.

“You’re going to fuck him, aren’t you?” Brenda asked, sipping from her Big Gulp cup.

You looked out the window, hearing Hells Bells play over the radio. The song made you think of Eddie and you smiled.

“Yeah, I am.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things

211 notes · View notes

wardenparker · 2 years

Text

Starting Over - Chapter 2

Marcus Pike x female Reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Recently arrived in Texas and only slightly removed from his divorce, Marcus finds himself smitten with the women at the housewares store that is helping him furnish his new Austin condo. It becomes a more complicated situation than he could have expected, but Marcus has never been one to shy away from a challenge when love is on the line. ✨This fic takes place *before* the events of The Mentalist.✨

Rating: E for Extremely Explicit! Word Count: 16.4k Warnings: Cursing and food/alcohol mentions. Blanket warnings for this fic will include divorce, past abusive relationships, deceased parents, father issues. Summary: Whether you technically want to call it your first or second date with Marcus, a movie and dinner becomes quite an adventure when you realize that the two of you have a few key things in common. Notes: We’re ramping things up right out of the gate here, guys. Hold on to your hats!

Ch 1

With five minutes left until six o’clock you’ve managed to force yourself to stop pacing the main floor of your place. Instead, you’re sitting in your kitchen with a mug of tea and nervously twirling the small ring you’ve chosen as an accessory round and around your finger. It had been nearly impossible to think about anything besides Marcus for the rest of your shift. Everything seemed to push your thoughts back to him. Not that they ever strayed far from him in the first place.

Marcus had to stop setting up everything about an hour before, switching gears and showering so he could get dressed in something that was appropriate for a date. Nothing too formal, but he paired dark jeans and boots with a maroon button-down shirt and his leather jacket. The dishwasher hummed and he had just transferred the clothes over to the dryer. Kitchen towels and bathroom towels are all ready to be folded and put away once they are done.

He checks his watch and gives a grin, time to head over. He picks up the small bouquet of flowers he had stopped by to grab after he had dropped you off at work and gives himself a small nod. "Time to go, don't embarrass yourself Pike, you like this woman and she's your neighbor."

You shake your head and grin when the sound of the doorbell chimes at six sharp, wondering what Marcus must think of your roommate’s playful motion to replace the neighborhood-standard ding dong with something more akin to music. “Right on time,” you practically beam at him when you open the door. He’s somehow even more attractive than he was a few hours ago, and is very sweetly holding out a small handful of gorgeous flowers. “Come on in. I’ll get a vase for those beauties.”

He steps inside, pleased to find that it is a mirror image of his own place. "Well now I don't have to explain how big my living room is." He teases, remembering how flustered you became when you had said something about it that could be construed in a completely different kind of way.

Snickering lightly, you dig an empty vase out of a cabinet and toss him a pointed look. “You pushed the innuendo on that one. You’d just gotten done asking about a people to cuddle section!”

"Valid question for a single man who just wants someone to love." He argues playfully. "It's better than trying one of those dating apps." He shudders slightly at the idea.

“I have to admit, they can suck.” A lot of your more recent dating has been done via app and blind set ups with Naomi’s boyfriend’s friends, but clearly none of them have stuck.

"I get the theory behind them." Marcus shrugs and steps closer as you put water in the vase. He leans against your counter and sweeps his eyes up and down your figure in appreciation. "I just like an interesting meet-cute. Like ours. It's honestly fascinating in my opinion and so much better than 'we matched'. "

“Retail makes it harder sometimes. All those fun weekend activities where people meet and chat and get to know each other? I’m usually working then. It’s only with the new promotion that I’m getting some of my nights and weekend time back.” The beautiful bouquet is easily deposited into the vase with some water, and you set it down on the kitchen island in front of you with a satisfied smile. “But I like our meet-cute better, too. It’ll be a very cute story if we ever have occasion to tell it.”

"Well." Marcus shoots you a smile as you admire the flowers. "I say that we start our first date and see if we have reason to tell people about a meet-cute or that date from hell with the person I unfortunately live next to now and just wave to awkwardly." He jokes. If things didn't work out, he wouldn't treat you any different from any neighbors he had in the past. He just wasn't that type of man.

“I doubt you’ve ever been anyone's Date From Hell, Marcus Pike.” One quick reach and you’re picking up your purse from the kitchen island and nudging him toward the front door.

He chuckles. "Then you’ve never heard about the time my car broke down, I spilled my beer on her, my credit card was declined, and it started pouring down rain while we walked to a phone alllllllll in one date." He tells you as he guides you over to his car. "Classic definition of a date from hell. "

“Oh, noooo.” The laughter that bubbles out of you is apologetic, to say the least. “That sounds awful. But it wasn’t because you did something wrong.”

"True." He huffs and opens the door for you. "But it doesn't count as anywhere close to the top ten dates."

Once you’re both settled in the car you settle back with a comfortable sigh. “Tell me about one of the top ten, then. The funniest date or the best one or the one that is the most nostalgic.”

"Well...." Marcus knows that it's not good protocol to talk about past relationships, but you asked. "I reserved a suite at the best hotel and had a full spa package arranged complete with room service." He offers. "That was a fantastic weekend."

“You like to make a fuss.” The revelation makes you smile, glad to see that the Marcus you met today who does small things like hold doors and pick up trash from the table, is consistently thoughtful. Not just as a means of making a good first impression.

"I do." He doesn't apologize for it, knowing that some might not like it, but it was a part of his personality. "Acts of services?" He offers with a smile.

“I’ll remember that.” Preferring to go into this with the idea of it lasting, you want to keep track of the important things early on. If it ends up fizzling out, it won’t be because of a lack of intention. “I’m kind of a words of affirmation and gifts combo.”

"Noted." He tosses you a grin. "And if I get to be too much, just— you know, you can always say something. I never want to overstep." He knows that there are certain people who hate having things done for them and he respects it.

“We’ll find a rhythm.” That’s something you’re fairly certain of, given the fact that you’re both reasonable adults and have so far been very upfront about your interest in each other. “As long as this doesn’t unseat your worst ever date story tonight, and we decide to see what happens…we’ll find a rhythm. Just…if you’re not a good morning and good night text kind of person, tell me now.”

That makes him grin and he shakes his head. "I'm more of a 'hey I called to let you know that I'm going to be ten minutes late and is there anything you need when I am on my way?' type of person." He had stopped calling Amanda when she seemed so annoyed by it, but in the end she seemed annoyed no matter what he had done.

“We’re the people who drive other people crazy,” you observe softly. “Checking in, sending notes, holding doors, doing things preemptively to try to lighten the load.” It actually makes you chuckle, the way that the two of you seem to line up. Even Naomi likes to give you grief about the little notes you drop in her purse sometimes when she has something big coming up, or the fact that you always seem to have one of her favorite bath bombs stashed for when she’s having a bad day.

"Can't be a bad thing, right?" He asks.

“For us?” You shake your head, offering him a smile as he drives. “No. It’s good for us. But other people are missing out on the excellence that is our affection.”

He appreciates the outlook you have on it and hums when he stops at a red light. "What about you? I want to know your worst and best dates. See where the bar is at."

“Let’s see.” Humming dramatically, you love the way he lights up a little when he looks over at you again before the light turns green. “Worst would be from college. The guy who took me to his little brother’s little league game because I said I like baseball. I gave him the benefit of the doubt, thinking he was trying to be cute about it, but he proceeded to spend the entire game yelling corrections at the kids and telling me why they should give up on sports early to avoid disappointment.” It’s sort of funny now - mostly you just feel bad for the little brother and literally anyone who has met him since. “And the ‘picnic’ dinner he was very proud of packing? Was celery sticks and Jell-O cups. Which we ate while he told me what I should be changing about my diet and lifestyle to be more attractive to the men who have to spend time with me.”

"What a dick." Marcus makes a face of disgust and shakes his head. "I'm seriously hoping you shoved a celery stick somewhere extremely uncomfortable in his bodily orifices." He chuckles. "I'm saying this as a private citizen and this in no way represents the view of the Federal Bureau of Investigation." He adds on, dry humor lacing his tone.

You shrug, being far past any kind of upset about it, and gently and briefly run your knuckle along the side of his hand in a soothing gesture. “I went home and ordered a pizza for me and my roommate to have with some beers while we watched the actual game that was on that night. Much better use of my time.”

"Perfect." Marcus nods in approval. "If he wanted to really make it a date, he should have taken you to the game. Cheap seats, hotdogs, and beer?" He gives a small groan of approval. "Nachos and the ice cream that comes in the little hats."

“I’m seeing a road trip to a Rangers game in our future.” The prediction makes your smile widen, and don’t for one moment regret letting yourself get excited.

"We could do that." Marcus has to admit that he wouldn't mind that at all. "We didn't have a professional team in Portland, but we had a minor league team that I would go to sometimes."

“Are you from Portland originally?” You ask, wanting to know more about the man you already feel so comfortable with.

"No." He shakes his head and shrugs. "I'm from southern Cali, don't hold it against me. Portland was my first duty station out of the Academy." He gives a small chuckle. "San Diego to Quantico was like a completely different world."

“Man, I thought upstate New York to DC was bad.” Shaking your head a little, you try to imagine a laid back, potentially surfer-sequence version of Marcus getting used to the pounding pace of the nation’s capital.

"Completely. I had just finished school and it was a completely different universe." He chuckles, looking over at you with a grin. "Frat parties to weapons training."

“I went from the family farm to the big city.” The image of him as a frat boy is endlessly entertaining to you, because he doesn’t give off that stereotypical energy in the least. “8 am classes were nothing compared to getting up before dawn to milk the cows before school, let me tell you.”

"Wow." He tosses you a grin. "No wonder you spent ten minutes telling me about how different cheeses reacted to different styles of graters."

“You can take the girl out of the dairy farm, but you can’t take the obsessive knowledge of all things milk-related out of the girl.” At the time you had barely noticed you were doing it, but now you can feel the tips of your ears heat up. “When were you at Quantico?” You ask, quickly changing the subject.

“Ten years ago.” He smirks slightly at your obvious embarrassment, but he had been fascinated by the mini lecture.

As he pulls up to another red light, you turn fully toward him in your seat with your eyebrows furrowed as seriously as eyebrows can possibly be furrowed. “Marcus.” You shake your head at him, barely keeping yourself from laughing. “I graduated from George Washington University eight years ago. This…” You can’t hold them back, the giggles escaping at the ridiculousness of the whole thing. “This isn’t the first time we’ve lived in the same city…”

“Jesus.” His own giggles burst out until the two of you are laughing in his car like idiots.

“The universe literally just shoved you through my front door today. Just incredibly sick of us walking past each other on the street.” You may not put a lot of stock in destiny or the universe, but it sort of seems like the something out there is dead set in making you believe.

“No, what will be sick is if you used to go to the Command Post.” He tells you, remembering heading to that little sports bar when they needed a break to have a few beers and shoot some pool. It’s one of the few places he had gone.

“Um…” Sinking back into your seat, you cringe a little before you burst out giggling again. “My roommate…Naomi…s-she used to bartend there…”

His eyes blow wide, and he whips his head around to stare at you in shock. “No shit?!” He huffs out. “Jesus, Madison was fucking in love with her. Swear he would tip her like forty bucks every time he bought a round.” He pauses. “Curly hair, skin the color of dark chocolate and would wear green contacts?”

“You know Madi?!” It's a goddamn blessing that you’re nearly at the movie theater, because you’re both about to bust out of the car from laughing so hard. “Oh, you’re going to fucking love this.” What the ever-fucking-fuck kind of coincidence is all this? “Marcus, they’re dating now! He’s here in Texas. They ran into each other a couple of months ago at a private party she was working.”

“Jesus, I wondered where the hell he went.” Madison had gotten caught up in a bad bust in organized crime and had left the FBI. He slaps his hand against the steering wheel and starts laughing again. “Okay! I get it! We were supposed to meet!” He glances up at the roof of the car before he looks back over at you. “This is proof that the world is a small fucking place.”

“Fucking crazy.” You shake your head at him, aware your mouth is hanging open in disbelief but not really able to close it or stop being shocked. “When we hit that Rangers game, all four of us should go,” you offer, wanting to give him a chance to see his old friend again. “If you want.”

“Hell yeah.” Marcus chuckles and turns into the parking lot of the theater. “We used to talk about taking a train into New York for a Yankees or Mets game when we were studying our asses off.”

“You couldn’t just go to a Nationals game like everyone else in the city?” It’s so wild to think about that you’re not sure you’ll be able to start processing it properly any time soon. “I can’t believe this…”

“We did, but we wanted to go see a subway series game.” He tells you with a laugh.

“Just think,” you flash Marcus a grin and shake your head. “If we’d run into each other at the bar back then, maybe I could have avoided the Little League date.” You shrug. “But then, I do love to tell that story.”

He snorts and shakes his head. “It could have been possible. I met my ex-wife in that bar.”

“Oh yeah?” You haven’t poked or asked anything about her, but this feels like a moment to at least make the situation a little lighter. “Anyone I know?” At this point, you would believe anything.

"Okay, so if you knew Amanda Perez, I'm going to just declare this the Twilight Zone." He huffs, glancing over at you to see your reaction to her name after he parks.

“That depends.” You can feel all the blood drain from your face, thinking about the only Amanda Perez you ever knew - ten years ago, in Washington DC. If it’s the same woman, you’re going to declare this completely insane. “Are we talking 5’9”, black hair, perpetually bronze skin, never drinks hot chocolate with mini marshmallows, and talks in her sleep when she’s stressed out?”

“No fucking way.” Marcus leans back and gives you a wide-eyed stare of disbelief. “This is— how did you know her?” He chokes out.

“We…” You choke on it, honestly a little worried about how he’ll react. If you’re right about the timing…well, the universe has a very fucked up sense of humour. “We dated.” Your head drops, looking at your thumbs in your lap. “For about six months. Then she sat me down on campus one day and told me she’d met somebody else.” Just - apparently - like she’d done to Marcus ten months ago. “When did you guys meet?”

He feels like he's been hit by a truck. Especially since he had specifically asked his ex-wife if she was dating someone when they met and he got her number. Woodenly, he tells you the date, something that he had memorized at one time as the luckiest fucking date in history.

"Cool." You're already nodding as soon as the month comes out of his mouth, and for the first time this memory makes your heart hurt not because she hurt you but because she hurt him just the same way. "Cool...yeah...we...um...we overlapped for about a month, then. She was seeing both of us for about a month..."

"I'm sorry." Marcus is immediately apologizing, feeling completely sick to his stomach. "Fuck, I'm so sorry. I - I asked if she was seeing someone, I swear."

"Marcus, I'm not mad." Shaking your head again, it's like you're trying to shake your thoughts back into line. "I mean, I was. I was completely heartbroken. But it's not your fault. She..." You shrug helplessly. "Clearly, she has a pattern of finding someone new before she leaves the person she's with. I'm sorry...if this is all too weird, or too much, or upsetting for you I totally get it. I can take an Uber home and we can just wave awkwardly at each other in passing like most neighbors." It would - you realize with a sick feeling dropping through you - be a little heartbreaking all over again. But you don't want to put Marcus through any kind of pain.

"Why would I want that?" He frowns at you in confusion. "I mean…if you don't think that it's a good idea to date, I understand. But my ex-wife being a slightly shittier person than I had realized doesn't change my interest in you."

"Are you kidding?" A huff pushes its way out of you as you laugh in disbelief. "I want to send her a picture of us together. Ten years later and I still want to throw it back in her face. I may be feeling a little petty about it, to be honest. But I'm sure as hell not going to let the fact that we share an ex put me off wanting to be on this date with you tonight."

The grin Marcus gives you is positively wicked, and he purses his lips slightly. "We are still friends on social media." He tells you slyly. "We agreed that we would be 'friends' because she couldn't bear the thought of not knowing that I was okay." He rolls his eyes slightly now that he knows that it's a pattern his ex had for cheating. Something he had clearly stated he despised.

"Ooooo," you rub your hands together with happy, petty glee. "Picture in front of the movie theater? See if she spontaneously combusts over Facebook?"

"Oh, I say we tease her." Marcus huffs. "Post a picture of us holding hands and then one after the movie. Don't you remember how nosy she is?" Amanda had always wanted to know what was going on in everyone's lives.

“I will bet you anything that she will try to take preemptive credit about how she always knew we would get along or some bullshit.” With the specter of your mutual ex not hanging between you like an awful Twilight Zone episode, you lean quickly over the center console of his car and leave a small press of your lips on his cheek. “Come on, handsome, quick picture and let’s get some popcorn. Movie starts in less than five minutes.”

Marcus snorts as he gets out of the car, walking around it while giggling to himself like a schoolboy and gives you a smirk when he opens the door for you. "So, I have a technical question?" He started in a long draw. "Does...does our body count go up when we sleep together? Since we've slept with the same woman? Don't we get a pass on this? I feel like we should get a pass."

“Honey, I have a feeling my body count is a lot higher than yours anyway,” you throw him a playfully suggestive wink, but the fact is that you never actually made it to the altar over the last ten years and he did. “If you want a pass, it can be a pass.”

"That doesn't scare me." He shuts the door behind you and his hand rests on your lower back, not too low to be disrespectful but he knew you wouldn't mind the touch. "Just like the fact that you used to date my ex-wife doesn't scare me. We can bitch about her annoying traits together." He jokes lightly.

“Blanket hog.” You groan immediately, making no effort to pretend you’re not leaning into his warmth a little. March in the evening in Texas still had a decided chill in the air. “I’ll offer this up on the Altar of Exes while we’re still on the topic, but I was engaged about a year ago. Part of packing up and coming to Texas was getting the hell out of New York again. It’s not necessarily a long story, but it definitely reads like the screenplay for a Hallmark movie.”

"Man or woman?" He asks curiously. It's obvious that you have lived that never say never life and he's interested in your background. "Not that it matters, heart break is heart break and I know it sucks."

“Boy.” You roll your eyes dramatically. “Basically, I stayed in DC after college, trying to figure out what the hell to do with my hospitality degree that would pay more than minimum wage and no clear dream job. About four years ago, my mom got cancer, and my dad couldn’t take care of her and the farm on his own, so I moved back. Crate & Barrel let me transfer to the nearest store to my hometown and I kept my job there one day a week just so I wouldn’t have to quit. Turned out that my dad’s prized farm manager was my high school sweetheart. He and I got back together, tried to make it work, then when it was clear that my mom wasn’t going to make it, he proposed in front of her. Forced me to say yes, basically. A few months later I laid my mom to rest, told him to eat shit, and I found a promotion to move to.”

"Oh fuck." He grimaces at the poor taste of that timing. "I could see if it was her wish to see her little girl happy or whatever, but nooooo." He shakes his head and rubs your back in a half turn of his wrist. "I'm sorry about your mother, beautiful." He murmurs softly. "That was the time to stand beside you and support you, but never push any type of big, emotional decision."

"She would have liked you." You tell him quietly, masking the slight sniffle that always threatens to invade when your mom comes up in conversation. "She did this weird thing...every morning she'd put the coffee pot on and go out to the garden while it brewed. I don't know how she always had enough flowers every single day for a new vase, but there were always fresh flowers on the kitchen table when I came down for breakfast. So, the fact that you showed up at my door with flowers would have put you in her good books immediately."

"Then I'm extra glad that I brought them." Marcus tells you, walking up to the ticket booth and pausing the conversation long enough to purchase two tickets to the movie from the teenage girl behind the glass. Once he has them in hand, he turns to you and offers you the ticket he had gotten for you. "Maybe one day I'll get to meet her and bring her the most beautiful flowers I can find." He is obviously talking about visiting her grave with you, but it's pretty clear that your mother meant the world to you.

"Sorry." Sniffling slightly, you shake off the layer of melancholy and accept the ticket from his hand. "Didn't mean to bring the mood so far down. I just don't want you to think I'm commitment phobic or something. I didn't make it down the aisle for a very good reason."

"Baby." It's almost natural that the term of endearment comes from his mouth, especially at this moment. "You have nothing to apologize for." He assures you, reaching for your hand and lacing his fingers with yours, and giving them a small squeeze. "Good, bad, sad, I want to know all about you." He leans in and kisses the side of your head. "Would a buttered popcorn, some Milk Duds and a large Coke help lift your spirits?"

The softness that rolls through you - the sweet little pet name, the touch of his hand, his lips, everything together - has you leaning against him all over again. Face to face, this time, and it means you can smile up at him and find out the exact shade of brown his eyes are when they're all soft around the edges like they are now. "Make it Junior Mints, and you've got yourself a deal."

“Done.” He’ll let you eat all of those, mint and chocolate never mixed with him, but he would buy two boxes for the smile on your face. “A large popcorn, a box of Junior Mints and two Cokes.” He orders when you reach the concession stand before he turns to you. “Anything else you want, baby?”

"That's more than enough." You promise him, both because it's absolutely true and also because you're not about to pout and request cuddles in front of the teenage cinema employee currently bored by your entire existence.

He gives you a smile before turning back to them with a smile. “That’s it.” He pays and hands you one of the Cokes and the Junior Mints while he takes the tub of popcorn and his own coke before leading you over to the butter station. “A lot of butter or a little?”

"I am routinely yelled at for drowning my popcorn," you tell him seriously. "So put as much on as you want."

He catches his tongue between his teeth and grins at you. “Are you sure I wasn’t supposed to meet you at that bar?” He asks, knowing that he would have approached you just as easily as he had Amanda and apparently you were a better fit. “We are going to need napkins.”

Reaching past him, you grab an exaggerated stack of napkins and tuck them in your hand along with the candy box. "I think we definitely were supposed to meet in that bar." Once the facts of the situation had started to sink in - and the conversation since then - you're willing to admit that there is an element of destiny or fate of some kind at play. There are just too many coincidences surrounding the whole thing.

Marcus cackles gleefully as the butter dispenser spurts again and again all over the kernels. “Remember how Amanda hated this?” He asks, shaking his head. “Always wanted plain popcorn.”

"Lecture upon lecture about cholesterol." Seeing even a little of Marcus's catharsis through being able to vent about her is somewhere on the fence between kind of cute and wildly entertaining, and you love this level of freedom on him. "What is life without a little fun? A movie without buttered popcorn? Nachos without ungodly amounts of cheese and pickled jalapeños?"

Marcus moans, rolling his eyes in pleasure. “Fuck yes.” He snickers. “We had one of those chocolate fondue fountain things? I definitely put that amazingly nasty canned nacho cheese in it during game day parties. Just hold the chip under the cheese.”

"Marcus Pike." You deadpan his name, so he looks at you curiously. "That may be the sexiest thing anyone has ever said to me."

“It’s official.” He shakes his head, and his face is splitting in two from the force of his grin. “You’re my soulmate.”

"Come on." Your cheek heat deeply until your face is practically on fire, and you can feel yourself go shy at the honesty in his only slight tease. "Let's go find a seat and take an astonishingly cute picture before the lights go down."

“Perfect.” Marcus follows you into the theater and tells you to pick wherever you want to sit, secretly happy when you want the next to back row.

"Get the popcorn in the picture," you snicker, wiggling around in the tight movie theater seats as the two of you try to find a decent way to pose for this silly photo.

He loves the way you think. Stretching his arm out so he can snap the pic. It takes a couple of tries, but eventually there is one really great one. “There it is.”

"We'll see if she has anything to say about that in a couple of hours." You're absolutely certain beyond a doubt that Amanda's need to be in the middle of gossip will prevail, and Marcus will probably have a few texts and you'll have a friend request by the time the movie is over.

“You are evil, and I love it.” Marcus tells you as he captions the picture and posts it on his timeline before he turns off the phone completely.

"We dealt with enough of her bullshit, she can handle a little fun from us." When you settle back into your seat, you have no desire to do any of the vaguely uncertain mincing around and instead just lean into his side. You want to be beside him, and you won't apologize for it.

Marcus lifts his arm and puts it around your shoulder. Never happier than this moment in how candid the two of you had been with each other. “Popcorn?” He asks as the lights dim.

"Well, we didn't just get it for the picture." With a grin, you grab a few kernels off the top of the tub and offer them to him, fully aware of the intimacy of the gesture.

There is a moment where he just looks at you, amazed at how easy all of this is with you before he leans forward and opens his mouth for you to feed him the popcorn, closing his mouth around your fingers and making sure to suck the buttery richness off of the tips before he pulls his head back.

Alright. Well. There’s no way you’re going to be able to concentrate on the movie now and you absolutely brought that upon yourself. Hoping Marcus didn’t register too much of the flash of heat in your eyes, you ease yourself back into your seat and under his arm as the credits begin to roll.

The movie starts, but all Marcus can think about is you. Every time you shift slightly, it's to bring yourself closer to him and he can't say that he hates it. The movie plays, almost in the background he's so hyper aware of you and every time you reach for the popcorn, his own hand bumps yours as you both seemingly have the same sense of timing. "I'm starting to think you're doing it on purpose." He teases, leaning in to murmur softly in your ear.

“Me?” You whisper, batting innocent eyelashes at him. “I am innocent and pure and am not at all enjoying the small touches.” Just pointing it out tells him how much you are enjoying them, and hopefully lets him know how borderline giddy you are.

"God, I hope not." Marcus whispers back playfully and leaning in a bit more so that his nose is almost touching yours. "I have a firm rule of never kissing someone innocent and pure on the first date and I was really looking forward to that first kiss I am planning."

“Oo, there’s a plan?” You raise an eyebrow at him, grateful there’s no one sitting nearby to shush your whispered flirting. “So, I’d better not close the gap and do it myself right now, huh?” You wouldn’t, not if he’s been thinking about it enough to have an actual idea of how it will happen. But it’s fun to tease.

"I mean...you are always welcome to close the gap and do it now." Marcus hums. "But I was honestly thinking that it would be even better if it were when we were both full and there was the taste of sweet wine on your lips, maybe the light of the moon shining down on your face. Where I can face you completely and cup your cheek. Slow to start, testing the waters before it deepens."

Swallowing the hard thump of your heartbeat, you can feel the excitement course through your veins. The promise of something new, and potentially big, hovers in the horizon and in his words. “But,” your voice is barely above a breath. “How will we know which is better unless we’ve tried both?”

"Clever girl." His eyes are soft and yearning, flickering down to your lips for a moment before looking back up at your own soft orbs. He tilts his head slightly in invitation, offering you his lips but not demanding anything. This next step was yours to take if you want to.

The world seems to slow, in that beautiful way it only does when something wonderful is about to happen, and the faded dialogue of the movie filling in the background like Marcus is your own personal screen idol. It takes only a small turn off your head to nudge his nose with your own, eyes flicking up to find his lids heavy and hazy as you lean forward imperceptibly to press your lips to his.

There is something sweet and yet so incredibly titillating about the buttery, salty taste of your lips. He sighs slightly and his lashes flutter as he closes his eyes and leans in more firmly into the kiss.

It’s adolescent, to be sharing your first kiss in the back of a movie theater over a tub of buttery popcorn and sticky-sweet soda, and you sort of love that about it. The moment is relaxed and unpretentious, with the hum of excitement running all through it as Marcus presses back against your soft approach and you happily sigh to deepen the first moment of physical intimacy between you. He forgets that you are in public, forgets that there is a movie playing on the screen in front of you. Everything but the feel of your lips on his fades away into the background.

With the way he molds so perfectly against you, it would be so easy to go too far. To just toss up your hands and indulge, the rest of the world be damned. But you remind yourself that it’s early days. Just the beginning. And there can be so much more if this to come.

You pull back gently, reluctantly, and feel yourself mourn the loss of his touch immediately as you’re nearly panting for the breath he’s stolen from you. “I…um…wow…”

“Wow, is right.” Marcus gives you an almost goofy grin.

“The moonlight and sweet wine have a lot to live up to, later.” You tell him with a sly smirk, before settling into his side again. Teasing Marcus is easy and fun - comfortable as well as exciting. Something you hope you’ll never get used to. Teasing him and kissing him are very similar endeavors.

“I will have to bring my A game to top that kiss, but I think I can.” His fingers brush the skin of your arm gently, making you shiver. He hums, knowing that it’s not cold that makes you react like that, but he uses it as an excuse to lean close again. “Let me know if you need my jacket, beautiful.”

“Just you, handsome.” You both know it’s not the chill of the air conditioning making goosebumps raise on your skin, and you offer him another piece of popcorn from your fingers. “Just you.”

He smirks and takes the popcorn again, this time making sure to twirl his tongue around your fingers as if your digits were your clit and he was treating it to his singular attention.

“Tease,” you murmur under your breath, acting like you’re upset about it but you’re honestly not in the least. Turned on, however? Oh yes.

“Not teasing.” Marcus responds smoothly. “Promising.”

You’re proud of yourself for not whimpering, but there’s no way he misses the way you shift in your seat and gently squeeze your thighs together in anticipation. Your ex-fiancé wasn’t a bad lover or anything, but oral just wasn’t his time to shine. Cumming on Marcus’s tongue sounds like heaven. “I hope you keep your promises, then.” Not that you doubt him. Of anyone in the world, you fully believe Marcus Pike keeps every promise he makes.

“It might be my favorite thing in the world.” He lifts a brow at you and smirks slightly. “And it’s been a long time since I’ve gotten to indulge.”

“Fuck…” That’s definitely a whimper, and you’re grateful no one is nearby to judge you for it. “Well, I’m happy to break that dry spell for you.”

“We just have to survive this movie and dinner.” He murmurs softly. “I’d already taken tomorrow off. Do you have to work?”

“No.” You’re all but shaking your head, ready to promise him you can sleep in and stay naked if that’s what he wants. All he has to do is say the word. Tipping your head back, you find his soft eyes watching you. “And Naomi’s staying with Madison tonight. So no roommate, either.”

“Hmmmm.” He smiles and leans in. He doesn’t kiss you, but he does nuzzle your nose with his. “So I don’t have to worry about you being too loud then.”

“With what they put me through, they deserve payback.” You grumble softly, breath catching at the unexpectedly dirty reply.

“I’ve heard.” He snorts. “Our bedroom walls are shared. “Once I get my bed, we might have to have a competition.”

“We can trash my second-hand bed with a contest, not your brand new one.” You know what that big, beautiful four poster is costing him, and you won’t let him waste that kind of investment.

He huffs and sends you a cocky smirk. “I have to test out how durable it is.” He teases, body extremely interested in this conversation.

The slickness between your legs is nearly fogging your brain with your nod and murmur: “For science.”

“For science.” He agrees and tries to look back at the screen with a sigh. “So…I have a naughty idea.” He poses. “What if we leave the movie now and go get dinner.” He knows he hadn’t watched any of the movie up on the screen if he was honest with himself. Too focused on you.

Flicking your eyes back up to the screen, you have to admit that if you hadn’t seen it a dozen times already, you would have no idea what was going on - finding him much more engrossing than Norma Desmond could ever hope to be. “Very naughty.” You agree with a grin. “Let’s go.”

The two of you giggle as you make your way down the stairs and out of the theater. Marcus only feels slightly bad about tossing a nearly full drink and popcorn, but he's too interested in getting you alone where you don't have to worry about bothering others with your conversation. "Note to self, watch movies at home. When I get a TV."

“Ah, electronics. The one thing I am absolutely useless in shopping for.” Now that you’re out in the lobby, your voice almost feels odd at full volume again. “But yes, you do need a tv.”

"I am an excellent judge on TVs." Marcus tells you snootily. "If I can turn it on and watch TV, it's good."

“Well, I can’t fault your logic.” You shake your head at him as you make your way through the lobby. “But you’ve forgotten. In order to be good, a TV must also be very big.”

He snorts and throws you a mildly dirty look as you exit the theater and make your way into the dusky night. The sun is starting to set and he chuckles. "How about a good mid-sized tv that knows how to work really well?" He bargains, aware that he's not talking about TVs at all.

“Oh, we’re talking about TVs.” Throwing him an exaggerated wink, you nod wisely. “Yeah, function over form, every time.”

His hand on your back flexes slightly, resisting the urge to reach down and pinch your ass. If this wasn't your first date, he might actually do it, but he needs to somewhat mind his manners. "So where would you like to eat dinner, beautiful?" He asks you softly, wondering if you have any favorite places or anywhere you've wanted to try.

“I’m not picky.” The stroll back out to the parking lot is lazy and the warmth of his hand on your back lulls you against his side yet again. “You mentioned steak earlier. We’ve talked about barbecue. There’s a good Italian place I know. Anything it’s fine.”

"Ehhhhh." Marcus would prefer that you pick but he knows that it might just lead to a longer conversation about the merits of each place and he doesn't want to take longer than he has to in order to get you sat down to wine and dine. "How about Chama Gaucha?" He asks, wondering if you would like the Brazilian steakhouse. "They even have a salad bar." He offers enticingly.

“This is going to be a thing, isn’t it?” You wrinkle your nose at him, sticking out your tongue for good effect. “Brazilian barbecue it is.”

"I'm compromising." He sticks his tongue out at you. "I heard that is healthy in relationships."

“Funny how often we used to get those lectures when we were always the ones bending over backwards.” With another heavy eye roll, you take the last few steps to his car a little faster - his long legs meaning he’s already beaten you there. “It’s a meat and veggies compromise, but from how much you obsessed over picking out wine glasses, I’m guessing they have a killer wine list.”

"I have heard they do." Marcus had never been there himself, but it was one of the restaurants that he had been wanting to try. He just hadn't yet because it's not any fun going to a place like that by yourself. "Hopefully we will find out."

“Hopefully we will.”

As always, Marcus holds your door for you to get in and settle in before he shuts it and climbs into the driver’s side. He starts the car and pulls out of the theater parking lot so he can navigate towards the restaurant. He has always had a pretty good sense of direction and exploring the city for work had helped him get a good idea of the overall layout and where a lot of things were located. "What type of wine do you like?"

“Do I lose points if I say ‘cheap’?” You offer him what you hope is a charming smile. “I’ve matured only slightly beyond my college Arbor Mist obsession. So…I guess that’s anything sweet and fruity.”

He raises a brow at that. Amanda had been very picky about wine, and they had spent several vacations in Napa Valley as a result. "I'm guessing a shiraz might be the best starting point."

“I know, I have the palate of an 18-year-old sometimes. It’s awful.” You shake your head in defeat.

"No, I'm just wondering how you and Amanda got on with that." He chuckles. "She is...rather snooty about wine."

The huff that pushes out of you is audible. “I pretended really hard.” You tell him quietly. “But…I don’t want to pretend with you.”

"Does it help that I like beer better than wine?" He asks, sending you a side glance. "And a good tequila is the best."

“You’ll show me what you like, and I’ll show you what I like.” That’s how it should work. At least to you. No pretending and no lying. If it goes beyond tonight, anyway. “If you want to, I mean.”

"Oh, I'm just thinking about how to stock my fridge when you come over to my place." He throws you a smirk. "If you want Arbor Mist, I'll make sure that you have whatever flavor is your favorite. If you like IPAs..." He grimaces. "You're on your own there." He teases and wrinkles his nose playfully.

“These days it’s more like shandies and Riesling.” You relax measurably in your seat, that unhappy flash of nerves fading away. In its place, you send him a smirk. “You never did tell me your favorite cheeses.”

He tosses you a mildly guilty grin. "Is this date over if I tell you that it's goat cheese?" He snickers.

You half-snort, covering your giggle with one hand. “It would be off if you were dating my father.”

"Well then I guess it's a good thing that my favorite cheese is Havarti." He chuckles and can't help but reach over and take your hand. "That or fresh mozzarella."

His fingers laced through yours are warm and weighty, and you raise the back of his hand to your lips to press a kiss to his skin. “You teach me about good wine, and I’ll teach you how to make fresh cheese,” you bargain, truly believing that the more you share, the better things will be.

"Ohhhh I like that." Marcus grins. "How do you feel about charcuterie boards?" He asks seriously. He had gone with Amanda to a class on how to set up the best boards for parties and his ex-wife had been obsessed with them. As long as there was jalapeño jelly and berries on it, he was in heaven.

“Honestly that’s most of what I eat for lunch,” you admit without a hint of shame. “Just me and my little charcuterie board at my desk with a sweet tea? That’s heaven, baby.”

He hums in approval and nods. "So, I'm envisioning dates on my new couch with a charcuterie board and a new wine while we cuddle in our new blankets."

“That sounds like the perfect rainy night.” The vision of a storm sounding outside the house while you curl up in a little blanket fort of your own making is about as sweet as he is. “Date night at home.”

"I'm glad you like that idea." He gives you a sweet look as he stops at the red light. He's only about six hundred feet away from the turn for the restaurant. "Your favorite version of a date is what?" He asks.

“Anything that involves learning.” It seems like a cop-out answer, you know that, but you squeeze his hand quickly and explain. “Teaching each other things, taking little classes, hitting a museum, or trying something that’s new to both of us.” You shrug slightly. “Nerd dates.”

“Damn.” Marcus hadn’t thought you could be any more perfect, but you continue to surprise him.

“Damn?” Your head quirks in his direction as he pulls into the restaurant’s parking lot.

“Just admiring how perfect you are.” He tells you as he parks and shuts the engine off.

“Oh, please,” you roll your eyes playfully.

“Seriously, you said the magic words.” He promises.

Willing to admit that might be the case, you reluctantly let his hand go so he can put his car in park. “Do you have the same answer, then?”

"I have to admit I might be asking you to accompany me to a few gallery showings." He winks before he gets out so he can come around and let you out of the passenger side.

“Perfect.” You slip out of his car once more and happily accept his hand when it lingers by your side. “I can learn more about art.”

Inside the restaurant smells delicious and Marcus' mouth waters. "Table for two please." Marcus smiles at the host and squeezes your hand.

The genuinely bored looking host shows you to a booth where you are immediately greeted by your waitress with a smile and attitude as bright as the sun, and you fluster when she explicitly welcomes you out for what is clearly your date night. “How long y’all been together?” She asks, chattering away. “If ya don’t mind me askin’?”

Marcus looks over at you and then checks his watch. "Nine hours now?" He asks, looking over at you for confirmation. "At least that's how long we've known each other."

“Well, shoot.” The waitress laughs when both you and Marcus do, and easily excuses herself to grab Marcus a complete wine list when he asks for it.

“Nine hours strong.” You grin at him with flushed cheeks.

"I mean, I have to say that we are doing really well for nine hours." He tells you. "We've found a mutual background and established our communication."

“And you were the talk of the store after you left.” You tell him with a grin, knowing that it’s completely beside the point but still finding it fun.

"How so?" The waitress returns with the wine menu and Marcus quickly picks out one of his favorite sweet reds and looks towards you for the answer.

“Anyone redoing an entire house is always worth talking about.” You reason, taking a sip from the water glass in front of you. “Plus…I came back from lunch grinning like an idiot…”

"Grinning like an idiot, huh?" He asks, grinning like one himself right now. "Kind of like how I absolutely wasn't dancing around my condo like an idiot while I unpacked all the shit I bought from this pretty sexy girl I met at the store?"

“Kind of exactly like that.” The image he presents with that is playful and dreamy, and your grin spreads wider. “I’m almost afraid to ask if you’re a good dancer.”

"Formal? I won't step on your toes." Marcus admits. "Amanda always said that for someone who could fuck I had zero rhythm."

“Thank God.” You groan dramatically. “For a second I thought you were going to say you were a childhood ballroom champ or something. Considering you’re already pretty much perfect, that would have just been completely over the top.”

Marcus throws his head back and laughs, making the waitress grin as she comes up to the table again with the bottle to pour glasses for both of you. "Well at least you two are enjoying yourselves." She says, sending you a wink.

“It’s refreshing to find out that he’s not textbook perfect, that’s all.” You shake your head at the waitress as if to tell her how ridiculous it is that he is so close to perfect, and listen with interest while she explains exactly how your very unique dinner will be served.

“That sounds incredible.” Marcus looks over to you and nods towards the buffet. “You want to go get your salad? I hear they also have an amazing lobster bisque.”

“There is nothing about this meal that doesn’t sound perfect.” And amusingly, it even hits on the ‘nerd’ qualification for a date, because you’ve learned an entire new genre of steakhouse operations.

He slides out of the booth and cheekily holds his hand out to you. “My lady, heaven on a buffet awaits. Shall we feast?”

You barely manage to cover your mouth, acutely aware that the couples at the surrounding tables won’t find your snort as endearing as Marcus does, and you reach to take his hand. “We shall,” you agree, mimicking his tone between giggles.

He helps you up and holds on to your waist while you both shuffle over to the buffet. Cheese slices, stuffed olives, pasta salads and everything to make a real salad are accompanied by the bisque, some rice and black beans with plantains that smells amazing, and the little cheese breads that you’ll later find out are amazing. Marcus groans at the plate piled high and grins at you. “This isn’t even the meat selection yet.” He reminds you.

“We’re going to pass out as soon as you park your car at home,” you predict, admitting to yourself that it would be fairly hilarious if it happened.

“Shit.” He huffs, shaking his head. “That just means that I’ve got to make up for it when we wake up.”

“Baby, a good date and a good sleep cuddled up together isn’t anything that needs to be made up for.” Of course, you’re fully and eagerly looking forward to having him in your bed, but you don’t want to give him the mistaken impression that it’s the only interest you have in him.

He flashes you a wink as both of you make your way back to the table. “So you don’t want to wake up with having your clit sucked on. Got it.”

“Oh, fuck off.” You hiss under your breath, with an absolute pout in your voice. “I’m just trying to behave! God, that thought is going to haunt me….”

His laugh is a little dark, a little mean, but he loves the way that you pout over the idea. Both of you sit back down and immediately a server comes over with steaks on a spit to ask if you would like some. Marcus nodes right away and holds out his other plate for the man.

Dinner is an elaborate, delicious, substantive dance, and you’re predictably stuffed by the end of it. The wine Marcus chose is far beyond your education level and a little extra tasty because of it, making you feel that much more spoiled. Halfway through your dinner you had both agreed that you would have to do this again, and that you would be tracking down a copycat recipe for the cheese bread to try making at home. You haven’t stopped laughing, teasing, or grinning like smitten teenagers all night. It is, in every way, an absolutely perfect night.

There’s a light breeze as he walks you to the car. Both of you are almost overly full, but it had been worth it. He looks over at you with a smile at the way you automatically turn your head and look at him. “I think that we can call this a success.” He comments lightly, swinging your hand that is encompassed in his.

“Without hesitation.” It’s past chilly and has officially become cold, and you tuck your free arm around yourself for a little extra warmth on the way to the car. “And I think we can both safely skip breakfast because we’ll still be full in the morning.”

Marcus doesn’t care that it’s only another hundred feet to the car. He slips his hand out of yours and starts shrugging off his leather jacket and stopping you so he can hold it out for you to put on. “Here.”

“I’m fine.” You protest, but it’s hollow and you both know it. The jacket is around your shoulders before you can even finish the thought and the warmth it retains from his body makes you shiver counterintuitively before you start to warm up. “I…thank you…serves me right for trying to be cute above all else.”

“You are cute. And now I get to be a gentleman and give you my jacket so you aren’t cold when I kiss you.” He smirks and turns you towards the car again.

“Oh right,” you hum, as though you could ever forget exactly how amazing it had been to kiss him. “We still need to compare and contrast.”

He waits until he gets you to the car, the door right at your elbow when he turns to you and cups your cheek just like it said he would. There is an anticipation in this air, and he takes just a few seconds to absorb the sight of you looking at him. The shine of the moon on your face is perfect where he had parked away from the light posts and yet he could see the want in your eyes clearly. "Beautiful." He whispers before he leans in and kisses you with far more assertion than he would have if that kiss in the movie theater hadn't happened.

His version of a first kiss is definitely smoother. You’ll give him that. Smooth and deep and delicious - and not just because of the wine. One of your hands easily finds its way to his chest, feeling the way his heart beats out of control when you begin to kiss him back.

He softly encourages you to open up, tongue sliding along your lips before you open your mouth and let him inside. Marcus can't help the groan that rises from his chest when his tongue touches against yours, almost shyly at first before moving with more confidence and determination as the kiss progresses.

Completely enveloped in the moment, a plane could have crashed in the restaurant parking lot, and you wouldn’t have noticed beyond thinking that the earth shaking under your feet was from how good and right kissing Marcus feels. His tongue slides against yours and his breathing stutters and his heart skips a beat in his chest. His hand curls around the nape of your neck and he tugs you just a fraction closer. It's magical, the feeling of your lips against his and for a moment, he never wants this kiss to end.

The rest of the world may not exist, and would not have at all, except for a distant cat call from another part of the parking lot and you break from Marcus with an embarrassed giggle. Marcus chuckles and turns to give the person a wave before he turns back to you. “Home, beautiful?” He asks softly, reaching for the door handle to the car.

“Home.” The fingers you have twined in his shirt pull him back to you for another, shorter kiss before pulling away fully.

He hums and holds the door open for you, not closing it until you are completely inside before hurrying around the front so he can jump behind the wheel. Nerves and excitement are thrumming in his system but he’s not going to assume he’s being invited into your bed, not even after being told. You can always change your mind and he will respect that.

In the front seat of his car, wrapped up in his leather jacket, your lips twist into a smile when he climbs back in beside you. “I think we have to call it a tie,” you tell him sheepishly. “Since both kisses were definitely, wow.”

“Yes, they were.” Marcus agrees, turning the engine over and picking up your hand quickly to press a kiss to the back of it before letting it go so he can put the car into gear.

“I guess we’ll just have to collect more data. You know…experiment.” You squeeze his hand lightly in yours. “For science.”

He throws you a small smirk and nods. "For science." He agrees before he decides to change the subject. "So, what do you normally do when you get off of work? Your wind down routine?"

“Depends on the day.” Hands still linked together, your fingers tangle easily in his and keep him close while your heart beats louder and faster. “If I had a day shift, I’ll bring a book out to the garden before I start thinking about making dinner. But if I worked a later shift then I’ll just figure out something fast for dinner and turn on the TV.” You chuckle awkwardly. “That makes me sound really boring. Maybe I am. But I live with my best friend so it’s not like I’m running out for drinks with her every night. We do that in the garden.”

"Then I guess I'm boring too." Marcus assures you. "I'm too old to try and go out every night. Especially after a long day at work."

“I would imagine that your days are a lot more demanding than mine.” Which is nothing against your job, just an acknowledgement of the fact that his job is higher stress.

"Sleeping in on days off is a particularly favorite hobby of mine." He admits, knowing that those have been few and far between the last few months. "That's why I wanted a good bed. I try to make it a rule not to get up except to pee until at least ten-thirty."

“Sleep in and drip dry?” You guess, raising a scandalous eyebrow at him and flashing a grin.

"I know." Marcus rolls his eyes playfully. "If I was an eccentric billionaire I would live on a private tropical island where I can sleep with the ocean breeze flowing over me and never wear clothes again. Just go for a swim and pad around nude."

“Oh noooo…” Laughing along with him, you won’t deny that you’re very interested to know exactly what that visual would look like. “Relaxation. That sounds just horrible. How will you ever survive?”

"Doesn't it?" He grins. "Nothing but idle time and sunshine. I just need to find a beautiful girl who wants to roam an island naked with me. Plus...you know..." He huffs. "Become a billionaire."

“Well when you start taking applications for companions, let me know.” You throw him a wink and your smile stays sunny.

He waggles his eyebrows. "Play your cards right and it'll be the only application that I accept."

“Sounds like a hell of a retirement plan.” And to your delight, definitely shows off his Southern California origin.

The rest of the drive back to the condos is relatively quick and he enjoys the warmth of your hand in his. Once he pulls into his parking spot, he looks over at you with a smile. "I have to say it was a success."

Every mile closer to home is an extra beat your heart has skipped, and an extra knot of anticipation coiled in your stomach. “Are you…um…do you want to come in?”

He honestly expected the offer, but when it comes, it still makes a slow smile light up his face. "I would like that." He murmurs, opening his door to walk around to let you out of the car for the last time tonight. It's just good planning that he had grabbed condoms when he had picked up the flowers, not willing to assume that protection was solely provided by you and hopeful that this would end up exactly here. When you get out, he leans in and opens the middle console to grab the box and turns around with a slight blush on his face.

“My very prepared Boy Scout.” You grin, managing to not giggle at his slight embarrassment. “I’m clean and on the pill, though, so it’s up to you if you want to use a condom.”

He’s not even ashamed for how quickly he throws the condoms back into the car and slams the door shut. “What condoms?” He asks with a grin.

“Inside.” Tugging on his hand, you practically pull him across the side-by-side driveways while you dig your keys out of your purse.

He loves the urgency in your pace, the slight fumble with the keys and he uses your concentration against you. Now that this is a go, his hands slide up your thighs and under your skirt, not immediately going to your cloth covered core but teasing as he feels you. "Remember what I said." He murmurs in your ear as you try to unlock the door. "It's my favorite thing to do."

“Jesus fuck, Marcus,” you groan, finally jamming your key into the door. “If you’re still wearing clothing by the time we hit the bedroom, it’s getting torn off.”

He can't help but chuckle and his teeth worry your ear lobe, making you shudder when you finally twist the lock and practically throw yourself through the door, taking him with you.

The number of times you’ve had to wade through Naomi and Madison’s shit when you get home late means you could care less if a few pieces of evidence are strewn around. Your purse and Marcus’s jacket are left on the edge of the sofa by the door immediately, and the instinct you have to kick your shoes off is only stopped by the fact that your inches-high sandals are buckled on. Hell, the only reason you’d worn anything high was because Marcus is so tall, but height won’t matter once you tumble into bed.

Marcus smirks when you tilt to one side and reach for the side of your shoes. His own have already been kicked off so there is only one purpose he has for sinking down to his knees - besides making your cunt clench at the lascivious look he gives you. His fingers dance over your skin while he works the shoes off your feet.

“Is that an act of service, or a superhuman sense of smell?” You tease, and can’t resist threading a few fingers through his thick hair when he smirks up at you.

"I can just start right here." He winks up at you before he slides his nose up your thigh and pushes your dress higher.

Your hand shoots out to grab the wall and you whimper, feeling his breath on your soaked core. “It’s been…a while,” you confess quietly. “Since I did any of this.”

He knows he should wait for your bedroom. Despite what you said, there is always the possibility of your roommate and his old academy friend coming home and catching you, but fuck if he can care about that right now. He can smell you. The honeyed tang of you makes his mouth water and once the sandals are off your feet he's reaching up under your dress and dragging your panties down with an eager hunger that has his tongue buried in your core before you can even spread your legs wider.

“Marcus.” His broad hands and the wall keep you steady, which is a godsend for your knees as they threaten to give out under his beautiful assault. “Holy shit, baby…”

He moans at the first burst of your flavor on his tongue, and he pushes your thighs apart to work his jaw under you so he can access more of your cunt. Not even in your house for five minutes and he's on his knees for the beautiful woman in front of him, but he would have it no other way. If you only knew how he had wanted to cancel dinner and just bring you back here to dine on you.

There’s something beyond bliss in the way you’re able to trust him instinctively. Knowing he won’t let anything but pleasure happen between you tonight gives you permission to let go. To let his name drip from your lips and your hips cant toward his mouth to offer him every inch of you.

Once your hips jerk forward and your fingers tug on his hair, Marcus loses a bit of control. He's not feral but there is a definite push to make sure that you know that he is going to make sure you have the night of your life and not regret a second of being here with him. His mouth opens wider, and his tongue becomes stiffer as he pushes it up inside you and still manages to use his larger nose to tease your clit.

Curses and praises are the real vocabulary of these moments for you, never having been heavy into dirty talk. With partners in the past - with Amanda in particular - it was almost a comical effort to find things to praise in the bedroom. With Marcus, you can tell already, it will be hard to shut up. It's not a chorus of oh baby, but your hips rolling and grinding down desperately for more. Everything he's willing to give your clenching, aching cunt is loving attention that you'll give back to him tenfold when you wake him up in the morning with his cock down your throat.

He loves how responsive you are. How steadily you roll your hips up and grind them down against his mouth. He eats it up just like he is devouring you. His eyes are half closed, fixed on you and he moans into you while giving you more when you demand it, eager to feel you fall apart for him and wanting to see how you look when you do.

Your legs shake as you climb to your peak, thighs subtly tightening on Marcus's ears, and you can feel him hum into your core. "So close," you manage to gasp out, fingernails biting into his scalp when you rock against his mouth again. "Fuck, Marcus, please baby," every second is like a rocket, shooting you closer to the stars. "Suck on my clit," you beg, well aware that you are begging.

That might be his favorite sound in the world, you begging him to make you cum. He complies immediately, pulling his tongue out of you where he can move to your clit. Sealing his lips around it and sucking on it, not enough to hurt, but trying to pull your orgasm out of you with the suction of his mouth.

His name comes from somewhere deep in your chest, a place where no one's name has come from in a long enough time that it feels almost foreign. "Marcus!" Is a sound that your neighbors to your right are going to have to get used to very quickly, because the way he sucks your soul out through your clit to make you cum is your new favorite sensation.

Marcus hums, feeling your fingers tighten in his hair and the sharp tug of on his scalp making his already hard cock throb even more against this zipper. He watches your mouth fall open and loves the sexy cry of his name as it rips out of your throat like a war cry. Sucking harder, he keeps ahold of your hips, wanting to push you through it and see where your limit is at.

When he doesn't let go or ease away, your body reacts with another jolt of pleasure. Marcus is relentless, working you through the aftershocks of that first orgasm right into the crackling starbursts of a second. You have no idea when the last time was that you came this hard and it's possible that the answer is never, and as the crest of the second orgasm hits and his name falls from your lips all over again, it's abundantly obvious that no one but him will ever make you cum this hard again.

He moans, his chin soaked with your juices and it's only when you are nearly sobbing and pushing his head away that he breaks the seal of his mouth around your clit and starts to leisurely lick your fluttering hole, making sure to avoid your sensitive clit while you struggle to catch your breath.

"Fuck." Your gasping, panting for your breath morphs into a filthy little giggle when your eyes can focus again, and the sight in front of you is his nearly black pupils gazing hungrily at you from between your thighs. "Th-that was...holy shit, baby..."

He licks his lips and rocks back on his heels to push up to his feet, taking your waist and tugging you into his arms. "Are you ready to go to bed, baby?" He asks, voice heavy with lust. "I need to be inside you."

"It's cute that you think I can walk after that," you tease, even though you're pushing up on your toes to steal a hungry kiss.

He chuckles against your mouth and he doesn't hesitate to pull you up, hands coming under your thighs to pull you up so that your legs can wrap around his waist. "What bedroom is yours upstairs?" He demands, thankful that he has the basic layout, just flipped, in his own place.

"End of the hall." The heels of your feet meet the small of his back and both of your arms come around his shoulders to hold on tight.

He hums and squeezes your ass playfully as he starts up the steps. "So, did I live up to my promise?" He asks smugly, knowing the answer must be a resounding yes.

“I hope you like wake-up blowjobs.” You hum against his throat, sucking and nipping gently at his pulse. “It’s my favorite way to say thank you.”

"I— uh," he gives a choked, embarrassed sound. "It's been, shit— uh, three years since I've had one? Nearly four."

"So it wasn't just me." When you raise your head to look at him you're already at the top of the stairs but he doesn't set you down, rather looks at you quizzically. "Amanda hated eating pussy. I guess it wasn't my pussy she didn't like, but giving head in general."

He snorts and gives you a small shake of his head. "I'd get a half assed effort on my birthday, but she would be so reluctant, like she was doing me a favor." He knows that it's not exactly proper to talk badly about another lover, but this is one that you had in common and there were obvious hurt feelings there where his ex-wife is involved. "I just started turning it down. Didn't want it held over my head for two months." He's still walking down the hallway while he talks and makes his way into your bedroom. "Didn't stop her from loving when I went down on her."

"That's because you're a fucking Olympian," you tell him with a shiver. "Marcus Pike, Greek God of Cunnilingus." He pauses just inside your bedroom door and you shrug at him. "Erik - my ex-fiancé - wiggled his way out of it by arguing that I didn't have to give him blowjobs, but since I like it, it's different. And since he didn't like eating me out, I just stopped bringing it up at all." With a slight huff, you shrug again and reach for the buttons on his shirt. "Looks like we get to enjoy each other's spoils."

“Idiot.” He flushes slightly at the Greek god comment and walks you over to the bed. “Well, any time you want to have me suck on your pretty little pussy, you just let me know.” He tells you before he leans down and drops you on the mattress and reaches for his pants.

"Don't tell me that," you gently warn him. Sitting up on your mattress, you tug your dress up over your head and unclip your bra, tossing them toward the slightly open door of your closet so they land somewhere nearby on the floor. "Or you'll be between my legs every second."

“Someone’s greedy.” He teases, moaning when you are already nude and spread out on the bed and he’s barely shoved his jeans down. He kicks them off and finishes unbuttoning his shirt to shrug it off before he hooks his thumbs under his boxer brief hem and pushes them down so his cock springs free.

The way you whimper at that - the teasing observation and the sight of his purple, leaking length - is absolutely depraved. "Fuck yes I am," you agree, because honestly to deny it would just be a lie. "How do you want me, Marcus?"

He wraps his hand around the base and lets out an obscene moan when he squeezes it, relieving the pressure and yet also adding to it. “How do you want be fucked the first time?” He asks, starting to slowly stroke himself. “We’re going to end up fucking every possible way, but this first time? You want to see my eyes or you want to have me take you from behind?”

You revel in the fact that there is something very real and tangible connecting the both of you along with all of the near misses and coincidences. Something that you won't dare think of words for, but makes your heart clench in your chest when you reach for him. "I want to see you."

“Thank fuck.” Marcus groans, taking the two short steps to the bed and climbing into it with you. Not hesitating before he’s crawling over your body and slotting himself between your thighs and starts at your navel to kiss his way up.

That makes you almost snort, but the gasp of a moan on your lips washes it away. Desperate for him to explore, your own hands knead and pinch your tits so you can watch every single move he makes without directing him. Spreading your legs wider for him, even the small breeze in the room is enough to make your clit ache again as the cool air skates over it and his lips trail up your torso. His teeth nip and scrape over your skin and he knocks your hand out of the way with a quick, rushed move to take over teasing your breast. Moaning when he drags his tongue over the pebbled tip before he starts to suck on it.

"Greedy." The same word he used to describe you works just as well for him, and you would have a giggle about it if you weren't gasping under his talented tongue's attention again. "M-Marcus..." The way his long body is sprawled out, and the way he has you pinned to the bed while he devours your tits, it's impossible for you to get your eager little fingers around his length. "Marcus, god, baby please, please, I need to feel you. Need you inside me."

“So good.” He pulls off your tit to switch to the other. “When. You. Beg.” Every word is accompanied by the bite of his teeth, hard enough to make you gasp. Only to sooth it with his tongue before he kisses up your chest and neck. “You need my cock inside you, beautiful?” He rasps in your ear. “Wrap your legs around me and I’ll give you what you want.”

Your reaction is instant, legs twining tightly around his waist to pull him in close, and you reach between your bodies to finally be able to stroke his cock a few times as you line up his throbbing head at your entrance. "Please fuck me," you whine in his ear, just to feel him shudder.

“Oh fuck.” Marcus chokes out pitifully at the feeling of your hand wrapped around him. Ready to blow right then. His fists are bunched tightly near your head while he starts to roll his hips forward, feeding an inch, then two into you. There’s a second pause where he lets out the lewdest moan he has ever made and then his hips snap forward until he is buried to the hilt in your pussy.

Sobbing at the feeling of being so full, your thighs tighten on his hips to keep him buried inside you while your cunt flutters around him, adjusting to his size and the burn of having him inside you. "Jesus, fuck," the curses fall easily from your lips while you hold him inside, until you give an experimental roll of your hips that makes you both groan in unison.

“Goddamn.” Marcus pants, kissing your ear and your jaw. “Please tell me that I can move?” He begs softly, needing to plunge into your hot, tight cunt again.

You whine, kissing him hard, and nod a little. "Fuck me," you beg again, much softer this time.

It’s probably a little more frantic that he normally tries to be with someone the first time. He can’t help himself, too worked up by how fucking good you feel, how right this is. His hips shuttle back and forth like the pistons on an engine, trying to keep you full of him, even as you move.

"I-I'm—" Faster than you can believe, your body is already shaking on the brink of a third orgasm. "Gonna cum, baby, oh my god." Every movement is just right - hitting just the right spots in just the right order and it's all too good.

He groans and tries to stave off his own imminently approaching orgasm. Leaning down, he presses his lips to yours while continuing the harsh pace. “Cum.” He orders.

This time when you come apart for him, your moan is poured into kissing him the way you love. Your whole body seems to bear down on him at once, thighs shaking and squeezing him inside you when you drench his cock in your release.

“Oh God.” It’s like a prayer, the way it spills out of his mouth, but this would not be allowed in church. He rolls his hips only twice more before he’s stuttering, driving deep inside you, and whining your name against your lips while he throbs, pumping you full of his spend.

"Goddamn." The word falls from your lips on a chuckle, swept away in the breathy pants for breath that you're left with after such a fast and furious pace. Not that you mind. Fucking has always been your favourite exercise. Spent muscles ache in the best possible way, and even your legs drop to the mattress from around his waist while you draw endless kisses from his lips.

There is a that sweet sense of drained relaxation that always follows but it's amplified with you. Your lips are against his and it’s a struggle to not just drop all of his weight down on you and burrow into the hot skin that is slick with perspiration and just breathe you in. Instead, he pulls out of you with ease and rolls onto his side, keeping his arm open in invitation if you want to snuggle against his chest. "Holy shit." He huffs, slightly giggly with endorphins.

The disappointment in losing his warmth only lasts a second, as you instinctively curl into his side and lay your head on his chest to connect yourselves again. “I’m glad we agree,” you giggle. And that’s the absolute truth.

He wants to stay right here with you but he’s also practical about things as well. “What’s your, um, clean up routine? Do you have a prefer?”

“I’m easy.” The accidental entendre makes you chuckle against his chest. “Quick washcloth, unless we’ve really made a mess of ourselves, and then a shared bath or shower is a thing of beauty.” Humming softly, you press a kiss to his skin and move to climb off the mattress and retrieve said washcloth. “Is that okay with you?”

"Baby, that's perfectly fine with me." He assures you, sitting up and managing to kiss your shoulder before you move out of his reach. "Honestly, I'm a pretty easy guy myself." He gives a small chuckle. "Remember, I've been housebroken."

That makes you huff indignantly, and you clean yourself up quickly before bringing a warm, damp cloth back or into the bedroom for him. “Does that mean I was dorm broken?” You ask, rolling your eyes dramatically.

"Not as badly." He teases, taking the offered rag and wiping himself clean. He gives you a small wink and stands, stretching slightly and waving away your offer to take the rag. He needs to pee, and he can put the cloth in the basket he is sure you have in your bathroom. "You got away early enough." It wasn't that Amanda was horrible, he never would have married her or been with her as long as he had if she had been, but divorce has a way of pulling the rose-colored glasses off and making someone see the truth.

“I guess I have you to thank for that.” And it makes you ache in a horrible, guilty kind of way. Even though you had never met him then and could never have saved him. “I think I would have followed that girl to the end of universe, but got my dumbass heart broken, instead.”

"I'm sorry." He flushes the toilet and washes his hands before he comes back out to you. You are back in the bed and he doesn't hesitate to climb back in beside you and pull you into his arms. "I— I promise you I didn't know. I asked. I asked if she was seeing anyone. I would never step on anyone's toes. It's not my thing." His tone hardens slightly. "I don't like cheaters."

“I’m not mad,” you promise him, sensing that this issue may run slightly deeper than his recent divorce. “I was, I won’t lie to you about that. But in the end, if she doesn’t want to be with either of us? That’s her loss.”

He blows out a breath and gives a small sigh. "It's more in what she can gain." He admits softly. He had been heartbroken enough that he hadn't really fought her on anything but there were things that she had been pissed that he couldn't give her. Things that honestly he didn't know because he had never paid attention enough to care about. His lawyer handled all that stuff and he ignored it at all costs, not liking the memories it would dredge up.

“What do you mean?” From the reticence in his voice, you’re almost afraid to ask. But since he brought it up there’s a chance he might feel like you’re the person he can actually talk to about it, and you won’t deny him that.

He strokes your back and figures that it's better to get your reaction to everything now than in the future. "I have a feeling that a lot of her attraction to me was because of who my father is." He hadn't realized until later that the night he had taken Amanda home that there was a letter from his father left out on his desk. He had planned on throwing it away before being basically told he was going out to the bar that night. It was only after they were engaged that he realized that she had expected a place in the circles that his father belonged to.

“That’s fun.” The bitter distaste in the words is clear, and you lace the fingers of your free hand through his in a small moment of physical support. “I’m guessing we’re not big fans of daddy’s?” With no stake in his life besides wanting to know him better and seeing what this is that’s clearly between you, you’re ready to be his support in whatever family bullshit exists.

"Hardly." Marcus knows that maybe the first date isn't the best time to spill family secrets, although there is that innate trust that he has in you. "My— I am the illegitimate son of a very successful businessman." He sighs. "I was raised by mother as a single parent but......they were still together when he made time for her." There is a slight edge of bitterness in his words. "His other family was not aware of my existence or hers, until my mother got sick when I was in high school."

“Oh…” There’s no sense in trying to disguise the shock in your voice, or the hurt on his behalf. Instead, you bundle him closer to you, cuddling against his side until it’s unclear if he is holding you or you are holding him. “Marcus, I’m so sorry…” You hate to ask the question, but it’s there in the air. Your mother isn’t with you anymore and apparently his isn’t, either. “If you want to talk about her, or don’t want to, I completely understand.”

He smiles at how understanding you are. "It's been a long time." He admits. "I was a senior in high school when she got sick." He tells you, looking up at the ceiling while he gathers his thoughts. "I will give him one thing, my father never let her suffer. He took care of her, loved her in his own selfish way. When— when she got sick, he tried to get the best doctors to treat her, but pancreatic cancer is...well, there was nothing to be done."

You nod dimly, remembering every single chemo and radiation treatment you ever drove your own mother to. “Cancer fucking sucks.”

"It does." Marcus hums, pulling you into his chest a little tighter and rubs your back soothingly. "It really does."

“I can’t imagine Amanda would have stuck around me much longer, if that’s what she was really after.” Though whether that hurts more or less is anyone’s guess. “I mean the farm does pretty well, but it’s still just a little family farm.”

"She was never overtly greedy at first." Marcus doesn't want to vilify her more than the truth. "But during the divorce she was not happy when she found out about the trust."

“Charming.” Settling against his chest, you sigh comfortably and tip your chin back to look at him. For two people who have known each other for around thirteen hours, the feeling of comfort and trust is overwhelming to you in the very best way. “So, Agent Marcus Pike, newly divorced and naked in bed with your next-door neighbor you only met today.” You grin, loving the soft way he looks down at you. “What do you want for your new Texas life?”

He tenses slightly, knowing that his version of happily ever after is not everyone's view. "I— so I know it's not for everyone…but I want a life." He tells you. "Domestic bliss. Love, family...kids." He says that part softly.

Something about that doesn’t surprise you - having only known him as kind and sweet and fun - and you stomp down the immediate impulse to gush about how that’s exactly what you want as well. “She didn’t want kids?” You guess, otherwise surely he would have a whole brood by now.

"I guess not." Marcus frowns, snorting slightly. "She told me that she went off her birth control three years ago." He tells you, remembering how she had symbolically thrown away her compact in the trash. "I found out later on that she had just had an IUD placed. In the middle of our divorce mediation."

“Jesus Christ.” Sitting back from him, you can feel your jaw hit the proverbial floorboards. “I’m sorry, I know I have no place in any of this, but I swear I will have words for that woman if I ever see her again.” The blood boiling in your ears on his behalf feels utterly cartoonish.

"It's honestly better." Marcus can't help the slightly satisfied chuckle. He rolls his eyes, hating to even voice the existence of it. "The trust fund is available on my fortieth birthday or upon the birth of my first child."

That makes you snicker slightly, still upset for him, but glad Amanda didn’t get a goddamn thing extra. “She didn’t know she needed to hang on an extra year or two, I assume?”

"Yeah. It's not something I wanted to ever really talk about." He shakes his head and looks down at you. "I don't talk to him; I don't approve of the way that he did anything with us." He sighs. "I only took the money for college because I was so broken up about Mom dying. And it was a slight snub towards him to choose art and criminal justice instead of business. And joining the FBI. He expected me to join the company. Even if I don't carry his last name, I'm his only biological son."

“We both left the family business,” you acknowledge softly, not sure if it really means a goddamn thing in the scheme of things. “My father basically treated Erik like his true-born son regardless of the fact that I’m an only child. He was over the moon about the proposal. Acted like I was finally doing my duty to the family by saying yes.”

"Ugh." Marcus grimaces and feels for you. He knows about expectations and feeling that disapproval. "I can understand why you would want to move halfway across the country."

Shrugging slightly, you have to admit that you’re a lot more good natured about not pursuing your forgotten dreams as you were even a few months ago when the wounds were fresher. “Neither Erik nor my dad could understand why I wouldn’t just settle down immediately. I want a family, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to just marry whoever I cross first.”

"I can understand that." Marcus has already admitted to himself that the reason that he and Amanda got heavy quickly was because of his own emotional neediness. "I don't think it worked out too well for me. There were good memories, but yeah...."

“I’m sorry you lost time.” You tell him quietly, and the way your chest clenches is an absolute ache. “But…you can start over again. However you want to. It’s not ever too late to meet someone new.” Even as the person whose bed he is in, you would never assume or impose yourself into the new navigations of his life. You like him - obviously quite a lot considering how quickly you’ve ended up where you are with him - but that doesn’t mean you’re going to hold any level of expectation from him.

He snorts and gives a small huff of slight indignation. "Meet someone new?" He asks softly. "I think the universe might send an asteroid to hit me if I bypass this." He teases, acknowledging the vast number of clues that the two of you should have met and fit so very well together.

“I’m not going to force myself on you.” That’s one thing you had never, and would never, do to anyone. Regardless of anything else, choosing your partner should always be done freely and happily. You had always believed that, even before Erik steam rolled his way into putting a ring on your finger. “That being said? I would really like to see you again. To…see where this goes.” That shouldn’t make you flushed or shy, not at 30 goddamn years old, but here you are.

"Thank God." Marcus squeezes you tight and reaches up to cup your cheek and guides your lips back to his for a soft kiss. "I have no problem saying that I want this to go somewhere. I – I really like you and I'm happy to see where this goes if that's what you want."

Kissing him is addictive. His sweet, soft lips and the taste of him that’s just outside of your ability to describe but reminds you of summer sunrise. You get lost in it - in those moments of shared sighs and shivering with excitement - but you realize that your skipping heart and blood pumping loudly on the inside isn’t an answer he can hear at all. “I want that.” You grin, nearly giggling at how happy the idea makes you. ��I…I want you.”

His grin matches yours, unable to really be angry and everything that had happened if it had brought him to this moment. His hand moves and smooths back your hair and he adjusts slightly to kiss your forehead. "That's good." He murmurs, sighing happily. "I want you too. Obviously." He grins again and he sends you a slightly lewd wink.

“I hope you don’t fuck like that unless you mean it.” A slight ache has settled into your hips while you’ve been talking and it will probably last into tomorrow morning, where you hope to double down on that good soreness.

"Well, considering you are the second person that I've slept with in nearly eleven years...I would have to say no." Marcus didn't feel the need to jump back into the dating pool immediately, nor have rebound sex with random strangers. "But as long as you enjoy it, I'm happy."

“Enjoy?” Leaning in a little, you nip at Marcus’s lower lip before kissing him again. “Baby, that’s an understatement.”

He hums and gives a small smile before he kisses you back. "Good. Very good." He knows that both of you are too spent to do anything else tonight, but he craves your closeness. "Let's get some sleep and we can do it again when we wake up."

“Since the universe so clearly wants us to give this a go,” you motion briefly between you before you quickly reach to shut off the bedside lamp. “I’m hoping you’re a cuddler?”

“My second favorite thing to do with a beautiful woman.” He assures you, turning on his side when you do and pressing his body against yours.

The feeling of his weight against your back, his arm curled around your middle, and his nose in your hair; might be the most comforting thing you’ve felt in years. Or ever. And you can’t shake the deep-seated feeling that, whatever this is, this is only the beginning. “Good night, handsome,” you hum softly. “And sweet dreams.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri

SO: @spideysimpossiblegirl @inspiringmelodrama @pedrilf @thevoiceinyourheadx @badassbaker @rebel-fanfare @canadianmaebe @amneris21 @kulicny @nagassia @bruxasolta @elfwriter1088

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Marcus Pike #Marcus Pike x reader #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus Pike x female reader #Agent Marcus Pike #The Mentalist #The Mentalist fanfic #we gettin spicy real quick up in this bitch

166 notes · View notes