#but it always just read like manipulate jason hour

[captain-mj]

I JUST READ THE BOY FIC AND OMG YOU SHOULD TOTALLY MAKE LIKE A HORROR CAMP RELATED ONE. like a rlly sweet one like they could be camp counselors yk?? <333 or just like camp counselors?

Hell yeah! I'd love to! So there's this webcomic where Jason Voorhees becomes a camp counselor made by Janie Lee and I took a little inspiration with the general vibe. 10/10 recommend that series because it's amazing. Mentions of trauma for several characters but it's not taking seriously

So it's hopefully clear but I know I can be a little subtle with subtext, so each of the characters are loosely based on a horror villain. It'll be fun to see if you guys can figure it out!

Ghost pulled the third kid out of the lake that day, silently patting their back to help them get all of the water.

"You alright?"

They nodded and coughed up a little more water before settling down. "Thank you so much, Ghost sir!"

Ghost patted their head and watched them run off to their friends. He looked around and saw Alejandro and Rudy talking. They were talking to each and clearly not watching the damn kids.

He waved and they waved back and he flipped them off.

Alejandro grinned. His perfect hair and perfect teeth.

He got on Ghost's nerves.

Especially because Alejandro was the person to wake them up every morning.

They shared a cabin with Alex and by all accounts, they were all early risers, but Alejandro was different.

This morning, and every morning, he woke them up at 4:30 in the morning as he took a shower, iced (what even is that? Is it like an ice bath? Icing a cake?) his face, and then used tons of product in his hair to define each curl.

Ghost and Alex made a deal to kill him every morning after being dragged out of their private rooms. 

Alejandro had laughed and pulled them out of bed to fucking exercise. They'd do fucking pushups and planks and Alex would always use his missing leg as an excuse to get out of squats. Ghost would glare at him and grumpily continue to do whatever he had been challenged to do. He almost always beat Alejandro which surprisingly never made the man angry. Alejandro would just smile and say he’d beat him next time. 

Once he made breakfast, Alex and Ghost would change their mind about killing him. Alex was the only one that drank coffee, Ghost preferred tea, but the smell was nice and inviting enough. It reminded him of being home, but in a good way. 

Then they’d get everyone up at 8 am sharp and they’d handle the kiddos. 

Ghost liked kids just fine. Honestly they were a bit annoying but he didn’t want anyone to get hurt and other people didn’t really seem interested in watching them so he did it. He put on his mask every morning and acted like a human being for a few hours until the kiddos went to bed and the other counselors would buddy up and talk to each other like friends. 

Being friends with your coworkers? That was loser behavior. 

Ghost ignored that his only friend was his little brother. 

Gaz talked about the podcast he was listening to with Ghost. Well. More talked at Ghost as he didn’t really contribute. 

“Doesn’t it feel… manipulative? Listening to these people talk about these murders.”

Gaz shrugged. “Maybe. But it’s… interesting.”

“In a ‘you want to do something similar’ or ‘gets you off’ way?”

Gaz laughed. “No. Just… how they are you know? How they get caught. The small mistakes. The way they could so cruelly kill those people. It’s just… Don’t know. It’s horrific but addicting.”

Ghost didn’t understand but nodded all the same. 

Sometimes, he thought it would be nice to sit with them. The fire looked nice at least. 

Alex knew exactly how to toast marshmallows. He had this secret technique to get them just right to be smushed but not enough for it to taste burnt. It was how he lured Ghost to them, using s’mores as a form of bait. 

Ghost ate one, perched on a log, prepared to sprint. 

“Riley, we’re going to be working together all summer, man. You can relax around us.” Gaz said with a smile. “You might even like us!”

Ghost grimaced and pulled his mask back down. “Doubtful. I don’t do friends. And I prefer Ghost.”

Soap smiled and lightly tapped his foot against the log Ghost was perched on. “I see. Well, Ghost. What’s with the mask?”

Ghost shrugged. “I just… like wearing it.”

“That’s an understatement. You came out of your room wearing it. Is it like Roach? Got scars under there?” Alejandro asked, arm around Rodolfo who looked less than amused by the whole situation. 

Roach hit Alejandro and checked that his mask was on properly. According to what Ghost had heard, he had some rather severe burns. Poor guy. He had some gorgeous brown eyes and tons of fluffy blond hair that could be seen over the mask. Alejandro clearly didn’t strike a nerve, which was good, but he didn’t look very happy. 

Ghost slowly waved before signing. “What’s another name for a sleeping bag?”

Roach tilted his head questioningly. No one else seemed to know what Ghost was signing, though they watched his hands. 

“A nap sack.” 

Roach laughed. And so did Soap. 

Ghost glanced at him, watching him cover his mouth. Soap looked away. 

He then stretched and took another s’more from Alex. He had undone part of his shirt that exposed his chest a little. It made Ghost’s stomach feel funny. 

Gaz smiled. “Let’s play truth or dare. No gross stuff though. Keep it PG-13.”

Ghost reluctantly relaxed. “Okay. Sure.” He’d pick all dares. Easy.

They started up.

He learned quickly that picking dares was not a good idea when Alejandro had Alex slip his shirt off. They all looked at him. There was some scarring along his stomach from a fire that had raged. 

Weird how many slashers had brushes with fire. 

But he was fit and rather hot. Ghost glanced away and realized there was no universe where he could so easily strip himself of his clothing. His body had scars, but it was nothing like Alex who had lost his brother to one or Roach whose school had burned down with almost everyone in it. 

No. No one died in the events that scarred Ghost. And he knew if they looked at him, they’d immediately realize they were purposefully inflicted by both Ghost and others. It wasn’t something he wanted anybody to know about. So he had to make a decision. 

“Ghost.” Soap smiled. “Truth or Dare?”

“Truth.” 

“What’s the farthest you’ve ever gone with someone?” 

Ghost froze, staring. “That’s not PG-13.”

“Oh, so you’ve had sex?” Gaz pointed out, the pretense of being clean gone. 

Ghost hesitated just long enough for them to pounce. 

“You’re a virgin??” Alejandro asked, almost scandalized at the thought. “You’re 6’4, built and mysterious as hell. How are you fucking that up?”

“Uh…”

Alex defended him. “Maybe he’s just shy!”

Soap translated for Roach. “Or saving himself for marriage. Gary, personally I don’t think that’s it.”

Ghost stood up. “I’ll be leaving now.”

Rodolfo hummed. “Is it religious? Or just never found the opportunity?”

“I’ve already answered my question.”

Soap tsked. “Actually, you haven’t. You just said it’s not PG-13. So… until you answer the question, we can ask whatever we want.”

Gaz nodded. “Those are the rules.”

Ghost squirmed. “We counting nonconsensually?”

That ruined the vibe really fast.

“Oh!” Soap covered his mouth, looking horrified. “I’m so sorry.” 

Ghost shrugged. “If it’s just consensual, I held hands. Once.” 

Roach planted his head in his hands, shaking his head. 

Somehow, Alejandro and Gaz got the game going again. Ghost picked dares after that and they all had the politeness to not make him or Roach do anything salacious. Sometimes, they’d ask Roach or dare him to do something dirty and he’d grab his cross and freeze. He always did it, letting Soap translate for him so everyone could understand him. 

As the night started to wind down, Roach ended up next to Ghost, both of them on the same log. Soap was doing something with the other guys and they both noticed the other person glancing at him. They quickly looked away again. 

Ghost had never felt uncomfortable with his sexuality. He liked men. Simple as that. But attraction was not something he liked acknowledging. Some people were attractive and it made Ghost nervous and sometimes he did find himself wishing for easy camaraderie and beautiful blues eyes to be…

Oh yikes. 

He was imagining Soap. 

Ghost was glad it was one of the single guys so he didn’t feel like an ass but it had to be that one?? 

Roach glanced at him and looked flustered. “I don’t really get the big deal either.”

Ghost nodded and tried to look stoic. He felt flustered and anxious though. His mask luckily kept him looking fine. “I just think there’s better things we can be doing. Like our jobs.”

Roach smiled. Ghost could tell by the way his eyes crinkled. “Yeah. Exactly.” 

They started to talk and Ghost found he was easy conversation. Before long, it reached midnight and as much as everyone would’ve loved staying up, they did have work in the morning. 

Alejandro and Alex walked on either side of Ghost. 

“By non-consensual…”

“Alex, I’ll rip your head from your fucking body.”

“Nevermind.”

#Johnny “Soap” Mactavish #Simon “Ghost” Riley #Soap Cod #Ghost COD #Soapghost #Ghostsoap #Soap x Ghost #Ghost x Soap #Macriley #Call of Duty #Call Of Duty Modern Warfare 2 #ghost x roach #roach x ghost #roach x soap #soap x roach #ghost x soap x roach #Gary Roach Sanderson #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #call of duty modern warfare ii #cod #captain john price #cod mw2 #ghostsoap #soapghost #rodolfo x alejandro #rodolfo parra #rodolfo cod

[happyk44]

valgrace age regression fic! I've never written one before and I'm sort of flip-flop on age regression as a kink, but I'm fond of non-sexual age regression and figured, you know who would probably appreciate being a kid (since he technically never was one)

--

He couldn't explain it. He understood, sort of, why he enjoyed this… smallness but he couldn't really explain how it happened. It just did.

If he thought about it hard enough, it was sometime after the first war. When everyone was celebrating in New Rome and he'd come across a discarded plush elephant on his way back to the barracks. He'd sat on his bed, staring at its soft embroidered eyes and squeezing it close to his chest. He'd never had a toy before.

Some kids did. At the Wolf House. Usually because they were dropped off with them but Jason wasn't so he didn't.

He went back and left the toy with Terminus after an hour of cuddling with it and forgot about the experience soon after.

But in the aftermath of the second war and his ability to travel, he'd come across a lot more options and, well…

He'd never really been a kid before.

Some days, when he thought about it, he figured that was it. The real reason, the kicker. He'd been given up as a child, long before he could form solid memories, and trained as a warrior for so long, a soldier for so long, that being a regular kid never panned out.

There were expectations on his head - like a weight or a noose - that childish behaviour was not allowed, the way it was for the others.

They could throw tantrums if they wanted. He could not. They were allowed to keep childhood effects that had been dropped off with them.

He never had any childhood effects. He had the clothes on his back and a name. Since Romulus and Remus, he was the youngest of the Wolf House recruits. Most kids wound up there somewhere in their early preteens - at most, eight or so.

The second youngest to him was Dakota. Five years old with a missing tooth and a sleepy swaying disposition. And Dakota was only there because his mother passed. Jason was four when they met.

Dakota had a teddy bear that Jason found more interesting to bite like prey than cuddle with as Dakota would.

But now he had toys for both.

It was a secret. He couldn’t just display it all over his cabin so he kept everything in a large box in his closet, hidden underneath heavy quilts. One of things he appreciated about living at Camp Half-Blood was the privacy.

The barracks at Camp Jupiter were always filled with people. Which was good for his wolf habits and need for a pack but bad when it came to this. Everyone had little effects they hung up and kept in their trunks and some people (read Dakota) were less inclined to be private about certain things but for the most part everyone waited until they were out of the Camp to expand their private lives.

You were a soldier.

What private life did you need?

But the privacy of having a cabin to himself was good for him. He could practice his little habit alone without worry about being walked in on. Or, at least, that was the intention.

For the last couple of months, he and Leo had been engaged in a training tactic Leo had so intelligently declared “SNEAK-UP SCARE TIME” right before flicking Jason’s ear when Jason didn’t flinch. He’d snuck up behind him and shouted it.

Jason was the son of Jupiter. Manipulating the air, leaning into the sound, hearing shifts, feeling the sensation of someone’s presence - these were all child’s play to him. And Leo had been homeless, on the streets, for a good portion of his upbringing.

As much as his usual go-to was to ramble endlessly, distracting adversaries with his words to keep them from noticing the small smoke bomb he was making behind his back, he was impeccably stealthy. He had to be. Stealing was not effective when conducted by heavy-handed people.

Hiding was not effective when conducted by heavy breathers. Leo was nimble and quiet. And when he was caught and dragged into foster and group homes, living in said homes made him great at stepping quietly so as not to wake people up when snagging snacks and sneaking off to his hideaway to prepare for his inevitable escape.

So they liked trying to one-up each other lately. Jason had lost a few games and Leo had lost a few games. It was fun for them. A good bonding exercise. Which Jason liked and knew Leo had to enjoy.

His life was always being shoved to the back and since Calypso had left camp to join the Hunters - partly to explore the world, partly because the only interaction she’d had in her last few hundred years of life was with male heroes - he’d been… a little off.

They hadn’t been dating - Leo admitted, privately to Piper and Jason only, that he was gay and Calypso wasn’t interested in dating someone she was all but forced to fall in love with anyway - but Jason knew it was comforting for him to have been a priority.

Calypso defaulted to him on most things and tended to hang around him closely, even in groups.

At least until she left with Thalia weeks ago to explore the world in the safety of an all-girl group.

So in hindsight Jason should’ve expected Leo to do something like this. He’d already been upping the games since Calypso’s departure. And Leo was skilled. Pharmacies were locked up.

He’d talked about breaking into them to grab medicine he couldn’t afford, that he taught himself how to pick locks as a child and that the skill just came in handy after his mother passed.

So really. Jason should’ve expected Leo to break into his cabin at some point. Either to hide and scare him or to try and sneak up on him. Silent lockpicking was a good skill to hone in on after all.

It was like getting caught with his pants around his ankles and hand around his dick.

Embarrassing. Humiliating.

His teether - a baby thing he was familiar with, what with his biting problem growing up - was still snug between his teeth from where he’d been chewing it the last hour.

But his cozy blanket - something he had to painfully stitch together out of six different baby blankets just to fit around him - had fallen to the floor as he jumped up. In his haste, his foot snagged his colouring book and the page he had been working diligently on tore in half.

Part of him wanted to cry.

The other part wanted to grab the torn page and suffocate Leo to death with it.

“Whoa,” Leo said quickly, jumping into the room. The door snapped shut behind him. His hand snapped up as Jason stiffened more than he already was. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

His eyes were darting around the room, taking in the stuffed toys Jason had set up nearby, the trinkets laid out for him to choose from, the fucking animal themed colouring book he was using. “Jay-”

“We should’ve established safe zones,” he said, ripping the teether from his mouth. It scattered somewhere under his bed. He shoved a hand through his hair, frazzled. Never in his life had been caught so off-guard.

Maybe when Juno smacked his memories out of his head but that didn’t really count, did it?

His heart pounded.

Leo liked to make jokes about everything.

This could not be a joke. Even a private one, just between the two of them. Jason was already ashamed to have this need to be small. He wasn’t supposed to be small! He was supposed to be large, imposing - a born leader, like his father.

This wasn’t normal.

"I'm sorry about your picture," Leo said. He tore the rest of the page out of the book. Jason's chest heaved but Leo just closed the book up and set it next to his pencils neatly. The paper crinkled as he balled it up. "I can, uh, I can get you another one?"

Blood thundered in Jason's ears. Every inflection in the air rose against his skin like static. Leo, always so aware of other people, was shifting cautious now as he reached for Jason's blanket. He rose steady to his feet.

Like a wild animal, Jason felt. His teeth bit into his lip. Any harder and he was going to tear open the skin.

Leo regarded him like he was feral too. "Hey, hey," he whispered. "It's just me. I'm not gonna tell anyone." He raised the blanket up. "Can I?"

Jason's hands shook at his sides. He fisted them so tightly his short nails cut into his skin. "Leo-"

"Come on." Leo took a step closer and closer until he draped Jason's blanket back around his shoulders, tying it off around his neck. "Superman needs his cape."

He smoothed his hands down Jason's arms, smiling softly. "It's okay, Jay. I promise."

"You're-" Shy, small, Jason grabbed the edges of his blanket and tried to wrap them around himself. Nervously, he ducked his gaze away. "You're not gonna make fun of me."

It wasn't a question but Leo shook his head and said, "Nah, I got other things to tease you about." He flicked the bridge of Jason's nose, just about the frame of his glasses. "Like these goofy birth control glasses."

Jason snorted. Leo had lived with an old navy officer for a spell. Apparently, the glasses he wore throughout his deployment were military issued and constantly plugged by everyone who had to wear them as the ugliest glasses ever.

While his glasses were not military issued, they were a fairy similar - thick brown frames. But they were sturdy so he could care less if they were unappealing to look at.

"Do you want your, uh-" Leo squatted, staring off to where the teether had fallen under Jason's bed. "It was a teether, right?"

Slowly, Jason nodded. Leo vanished from view before emerging. He pulled a wipe from his pockets, cleaning the rubber off. Drying it off on his shirt, he presented to Jason like a gift - but not to be taken. He smacked Jason's hand away when he reached for it.

Eyes locked on the other's, Jason leaned forward and caught the teether between his teeth, pulling it into his mouth. He bit down into the soft rubber. Like an instant release it was. Some of his anxiety ebbed away. He sighed around the toy.

"Yeah, there you go, buddy," Leo hummed. He caught Jason's hand and guided him over to his bed. "Sit down, I'll bring your things over."

Jason's eyes fluttered shut as he snuggled up against the headboard, chewing into his toy with abandon. His blanket pulled around him tighter. It was so soft - his absolute favourite.

A little ways away, Leo was tidying up his neatly placed items. He packed up mostly everything back into the box, save for the colouring book and a gray wolf plushie. He picked up a set of plastic keys and snorted.

"I'm gonna be honest, I never understood why kids like these."

Jason sighed. "Mmm, I like-" He snuggled into his blanket. "I like the sound." He mimicked jangling the keys together. "Clink, clink, clink." He giggled to himself, pulling his legs to his chest.

He'd never spoken before like this. He never had a reason to. His voice, even to him, sounded different - softer, uncharacteristically so. But Leo just shrugged like he saw no difference between the blunt speech he normally had and the softened giggles that were going on now.

"Clink, clink, huh?" Closing the lid, Leo set the box against the wall and brought over the items he left out. He handed Jason the keys. There was a patience in his eyes that Jason had never seen in anyone before. At least never directed towards him.

Jason clinked his keys together. The colours melted together as the motion blurred the toy. His focus reigned in so hard on the sound and sight that he missed Leo speaking to him, up until Leo's hand rested against his back, snagging him awake from his ministrations.

"Hey." Leo stroked a hand through his hair. Jason Ieaned into the touch. He loved when people pet him. He wished they did it more. "Can I sit with you, Jay?"

Eager, Jason nodded, scooting over to make room. But Leo didn't saddle up beside him. Instead, he gestured for Jason to move forward then slid up behind him. Seated in his lap, Jason felt impeccably small.

Which was ridiculous given he had a near foot on Leo to begin with but with Leo easing him back into his chest, arms secure around him, he let himself be a little ridiculous.

Leo placed his book in front of him, his chin knocking against Jason’s shoulder. He placed Jason’s goofy pencil case - a shimmery thing he stared at for five minutes in the store before grabbing it - and handed him the wolf plush

“So, uh-” He pushed his hand through Jason’s hair while Jason picked up his book and curled up into Leo’s lap, flipping through until he found a page of a cartoonishly drawn dolphin. “-this something you do often?”

“Sometimes.” A clarity hit him. He raised his head, back tightening. “Is that weird?”

“No. I mean-” Leo snorted. “I’ve been deep into the internet. I’ve heard of this before. It’s a…” He paused. “A little thing or… regression or something. I don’t remember. Wasn’t really my thing.”

Jason pulled out a fat blue crayon from his pencil case. “The internet, huh?”

“Mmm.” Leo leaned over his shoulder as he began colouring in the water around the dolphin. “Sometimes it’s a fetish, kink, thing, I think. But-” He cleared his throat. “-I take it it’s not that way for you?”

“No.” Jason bit his lip. “Just makes me feel…”

Warm. Comforted. Small. Quiet.

“Good.” His voice fell into a slow childish mumble. “When e’rythin’s a lot. Like bein’ small again.” He paused. His crayon dug into the page, creasing it. “Is that weird?”

“Nah.” Leo kissed the back of his neck. “There’s weirder shit out there. But I’m not gonna go around telling anyone either. It’s a private thing. Just for you… and me, now, I guess."

He cleared his throat again. “I mean, if you want someone to, you know, take care of you when you need to be small.”

He’d never really planned on having anyone around when he was like this. But Leo was warm, like home, a safe place. And if someone else was watching him he could act on some of his more… wolfish urges again. Without the fear of reprimand or being muzzled.

A phantom tug eased around his mouth.

Mm. He’d resisted chewing his toys because he knew how easily he could tear into them. But Leo could ease them away from him before they were damaged beyond repair.

And, if he couldn’t, he could repair them without stabbing himself like Jason always would. He wasn’t a master at sewing but his nimble fingers made it easy whenever he had to.

And there were times when Jason was standing in his shower, distant memories of being sunk into a warm bath, someone washing his hair while he babbled on some nonsense. Probably Thalia if the memories were that vague.

He wouldn’t mind that happening again. Someone to hold him, take care of him. He’d spent so much time taking care of others. It would be nice to have someone else take care of him for a while.

“Sure,” he murmured. “If you want, that…” He smiled softly. “I’d like it.”

“Then just… let me know.” Leo kissed the back of his head again. “You’re doing so good on the picture by the way. I mean, I know I definitely suck at staying inside the lines.”

Jason giggled. “Can you…” He tucked his chin onto his knees and held the keys in front of Leo’s face. “Can you clink clink, please?”

There was an odd spark to Leo’s eyes that made his chest clench in worry but Leo just grinned wide and took the keys. He shook them out wildly, carefree.

Jason giggled again, ducking his face into his knees. Leo’s hand smoothed up his back.

“I am the master of the clink clink,” Leo crowed.

Jason snorted. His eyes squeezed shut, hands clenching at his sheets. “You’re so weird.”

“Mmm.” Leo ruffled his hair. A shudder passed down his back at the sensation - sweet, loving, something he’d seen done to literally everyone else but him. Familiar and kind, wasn’t it? “You want to watch a cartoon while you draw, Jaybird?”

Jason nodded. The clinking died down as Leo fiddled with his phone but as soon as he had it propped up against the back of Jason’s pencil case, it started up again. The chimes were soothing.

He closed his eyes and listened to it all - Leo’s breathing, the pulsing of his heart, the cling and clang of the keys chiming together and the intro to a Disney movie Jason had never heard of, Fantasia.

He went deeper.

Leo smelled like a campfire.

There was a citrus tang to the shampoo still clinging to his hair. Motor oil was faint on his hands. The scent of iron tools, like rust and blood, a sharp ting on his tongue, still clung to the grooves of his skin. He used them so much, it would be a miracle if the scent ever vanished.

“Jay?” His voice gently eases Jason out of his haze. “You okay?”

Jason nodded, shyly knocking his knees together. “Just smellin’ you.”

“Yeah?”

Jason nodded again, nervous. Wolf instincts and aerokinetic powers were not always something that people handled well. He hadn’t even told Piper or Leo that he used to seek them out in the early days, after they saved Juno and returned to camp and he was all alone in his cabin being smacked over the head with painful memories of quests and a war every other minute. He’d cling to their hands and listen to them breathe. It was comforting.

But it was also very, very weird. And a little voyeuristic in a way that wasn’t horrible but also was not that great either.

Leo hummed softly, stroking a hand over his shoulders. “What do I smell like?”

Jason closed his eyes and sank into Leo’s chest. Warm, safe, home. Someone he was always supposed to have in his life. He opened his eyes and watched the movie play ahead of him. Leo was still clinking away with the keys. His free hand was hot on Jason’s thigh. Morse code tapping against his skin. Something he and his mother used to do.

Jason sighed. “You smell like you. Forges and fire and safety.”

He snuggled deeper into Leo’s chest. “Thank you for taking care of me,” he murmured.

Leo smoothed his hand over Jason’s thigh before tapping away again. His smile was evident against Jason’s shoulder. “Ah, I’m just getting started, buddy.”

#dated january 15th 2021 #from the twitter archives #valgrace #jason grace #leo valdez #my writing #my fanfic #happy talks pjo #this is so old - i'll probably never get around it to finishing it but i still really like it

[sacrificialblood]

prompt lists are evil cause there's always too much good stuff smh

but this "Protecting your lover's sleep as they doze on your lap, making sure nobody bothers them as they entrusted their peace to you." immediately made me think of Bo

alternatively, I just loved the mental image of this "Not accepting that it's time to start the day, and pinning them onto the mattress with either your whole body, a leg, or more risque touches." with any of our big strong men 😂 "pinning them down"? wouldn't be my 5'3 ass 😂

- 🔪

reader is gender neutral!

BO SINCLAIR

He knows you're tired, it's clear as day. Your eyes say it all, unfocused and bleary, can hardly stay open, even when he's talking to you. And he's prideful of having that allure, that no matter what he says, you'll always have your attention fixed on him. He likes that. He loves your love of him. He drinks it in, could bask in it all day and still ask for more.

Bo’s greedy like that.

Still, he has his moments of mercy and his uneasy reciprocation of love.

He doesn’t know how to verbalize his offer when you sit next to him on the couch, barely enough energy left in you to hold your head up straight. He’s never been good with words like that, never been good with kindness, so he places a hand on your shoulder — it jerks you awake, however briefly — and leads your torso down. You take the hint, always been so smart and so fast to catch onto his wants, and lay your head on his lap and curl your legs up.

You thank him as he strokes your cheek with his thumb. And he mumbles under his breath how it ain’t nothin’ even though his cheeks are red and he’s nervous as can be, because you could have easily just refused and marched on off to bed. Instead, you trusted him enough to sleep around him.

It’s not long until you’re out like a light.

There’s not much for him to do while you nap. He reads whatever magazine is on the end table front to back and catches up on all the celebrity gossip that you just can’t seem to get enough of. Not once does he think of getting up. Any jostle, any flinch that could wake you up is out of the question even if that means his legs start going numb with pins and needles. His books on the shelf are off limits until you wake up.

There’s nothing good on cable and he can’t just go pick out a VHS tape or DVD from his massive collection, so he settles on whatever documentary is running on the Discovery channel. He doesn’t pay it much mind, it doesn’t interest him one bit but it’s nice to have the company of another voice.

He lowers the volume on the television until he can hardly hear it. Content that even the loudest of noises won’t wake you.

Not even the dog gets a crack at you, Bo shoos her away with a muttered command and the wave of his hand, and she huffs in displeasure as she turns to find someone else to bother. Someone else being Vincent, of course.

You trusted him with this — isn’t that an important part of a relationship, showing trust and vulnerability? You make it seem so easy. You know what he is: dangerous, manipulative, greedy, a killer and yet you still display vulnerability and entrust him with it.

He’s not good at that but he can try.

Bo rests his arm on your side and with his other arm, he snakes his hand between his thigh and your cheek and just holds you. You’re soft and kind, two things he’s never gotten out of life, and if you can trust someone like him, then it should be easy to show that same trust to you.

Bo tilts his head back against the couch and closes his eyes.

You couldn’t fault him for trying.

JASON VOORHEES

It's still early. The room is lit up with dark blues and greys of the early morning, that space between going to bed late and waking up early. It's the only time you like being up early. The birds have yet to wake up and other wildlife hidden away, waiting for the right time when the sun starts to heat up the earth. In that hour, Jason can still be lulled back to bed, coaxed by your hands and sweet promises starting the day together soon, if he just holds you a little longer.

But he’s shifting, eager to start his day of checking traps and stalking any campers. It’s the on season, odds are you won’t see him soon after he leaves for the day. You’re mornings together are already so short. You will make coffee for yourself and he will push past you and stop only to press the bottom half of his mask against the crown of your head before walking out the front door, not to be seen again until hours past sundown, which with the long days and late sunsets leaves you worried.

There’s nothing that can be done to stop him. Jason is a force of nature. That doesn’t mean you can’t try and delay him a while.

He doesn’t need sleep but he likes sharing the bed with you, like to watch you sleep. His role as a silent protector never ending. You turn to face him and smile.

He’s still out of bed yet, too busy untangling the sheets from his ankles, the flat sheet that you had kicked down in your sleep trapping him in bed a moment longer than usual. He doesn’t notice you staring.

Jason doesn’t ever move unless he wants to be and you expected some resistance when you straddled his lap and pushed him back onto the bed with both of your hands on his shoulders. He doesn’t fight it at all, willingly submits to your whim like he doesn’t want to be up either. There’s no vocal objection to it.

You stare down at him, hands still bearing down on his shoulders like you hold the power here, as if he couldn’t easily sit back up and snap your wrists like twigs. You see nothing in his eyes but exhaustion.

Whatever force that brought him back, that compelled him to kill campers on the lake, on his property, his home, would not let him rest.

“I know, sweet boy,” you sigh, “Just a minute more. I miss you.”

He nods. It’s an acknowledgement, an agreement, a mournful reciprocation.

Jason pulls you down against him, arms locked right around your waist. You’re not sure which sense he still has or if they all died with him. He still breathes air into his lungs that do not need it, he eats food that doesn’t not supply him with energy, drinks water and lies on his back with his eyes closed and his fingers linked over his stomach. He still works against his new nature, whether for your own comfort or out of old habits. Maybe it is for you.

He allows another two minutes of delay.

#bo sinclair x reader #jason voorhees x reader #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair x y/n #jason voorhees x you #jason voorhees x y/n #slasher x reader #slasher x you #my writing #req tag #anon #🌙

[th3sp4rr0w]

A03 Link <- Starts at Chapter/Day One for those just joining us :))

Prompts for Day Three; Sensory Deprivation/Overstimulation/Isolation

Alt. Prompt for Day Three; Separated From Loved Ones

Prompts Used; All

Tw; Emotional Manipulation, Violence, Injury, Autistic Meltdowns, Meltdown-Based Self Harm/Self Induced Injury, Internalized Ableism

Disclaimer; I have autism. The meltdown Danny has closely resembles a bad one for me. Autism looks different to different people, and I don't want to say that my experience is the only valid one bc obviously that's not true. People experience it in all different ways. Please don't make fun of his meltdown or make fun of anyone that may share their experiences in the comments. Just be nice to me and to others okay thank you <33

Link is to the A03 story for those seeing this for the first time and wanting to check it out and the chapter is under the cut :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Talking with Sheila over the next week was like a dream that had come true.  

Like Jason had predicted, it hadn’t healed the wounds his mom’s passing had left. He hadn’t expected it would and wasn’t disappointed it didn’t, in the same way that he hadn’t expected being adopted by Bruce to heal the hurt Willis Todd had left somewhere inside him through the years. Though neither could heal the wounds the people that raised him had left, they both soothed it in ways he couldn’t seem to understand.  

He hadn’t called Sheila ‘mom’. He felt like that title would always belong to the woman who sang to him when he was small and gave him his love for reading. One day, though, he could see himself giving Sheila a different title of affection. Maybe ‘mama’, he hadn’t really decided yet, but the thought was similar enough to the couple times he had slipped and called Bruce ‘papa’.  

He still didn’t know how to process it when she told him she loved him a day into messaging back and forth. It was somewhere between elated and nauseous. He could count on one hand the number of times Bruce had told him he loved him in the last year, yet here Sheila was, giving it out like it was candy. He felt something weird curl in his stomach, but ignored it, assuming that it was a good weird, or something he’d picked up living with Bruce. Living with that nut case could make anyone extra paranoid. He still didn’t say he loved her, and how could he? He still hadn’t said those words to Bruce.  

Through their messages late at night (For him, he reminded himself- Ethiopia was seven hours ahead of them, and she often times could only message early in the morning or midafternoon her time), he found out she had left both of “her” boys with Willis, and was extremely concerned to hear that her little Daniel wasn’t with him... which was weird, because the file Bruce had clearly stated that she had taken his twin? He chalked it up to a miscommunication error Bruce didn’t have communication errors .  

He’d also learned about the crime that had caused her to flee to a different country. Apparently, the girl's parents had begged her to do some operation on her that they couldn’t afford. She would’ve died without it and was too far gone to save. It, admittedly, contradicted the information he had found in the bat-cave, but Bruce had dropped the case for a reason, right?  

Batman would never make that big of a mistake on a case like that.  

She wrote out stories of her life for him to pour over, from her current life at the horn to when she and da- Willis. To when she and Willis had met and fell in love. She said that she had hoped that, when they were old enough, her boys (and wasn’t that something, being one of her boys) would contact her exactly like Jason had. It had started looking grim, whether his twin was still out there in the world or not. He didn’t dare voice that to Sheila just yet, hoping for her sake that he was okay. She seemed like she was so worried about them over the years, especially now that she knows they were separated.  

She asked him about himself, how he had gone into Bruce’s custody, how he liked living with Bruce, how his adopted brother was, how school was going. It was everything he had imagined her doing.  

She was also wicked smart. You had to be to go into medicine, but especially since she had been living in Ethiopia, where hardly any English was spoken. Her area mostly spoke Amharic, she said, but living in the capital of the country she saw all sorts of people that spoke all sorts of languages. He started learning so he could visit her one day, even if the alphabet of the language did intimidate him just a little bit.  

She had so much to say to him, it made his head go a bit fuzzy. Getting to know her, telling her things about his life, getting a nickname from her (ሰማያዊ ጄይ ወፍ -she refused to tell him what it meant, stating it would give him a little extra motivation to learn). There was really only a couple of things that Jason hadn’t... loved about the whole thing.  

First; Bruce had tracked the Joker to around her area in Ethiopia. It was still unclear how exactly he’d gotten out of the country, but he had. The clown was way too close to her for his comfort, and there was no way to warn her without telling her everything.  

The second thing was that, after Bruce had found an excuse to visit Ethiopia “for a meeting” so they could stay for a while without too much fear of the media finding out and causing a ruckus, Jason had wanted to tell him so they could go see her. Dick was going to space for a Titan’s mission, so if he just told him about it when he got back, then he would probably be too excited on Jason’s behalf to get mad at Bruce that much, right? Except, when Jason went to tell Sheila the good news, she had all but begged him not to tell Bruce about her yet.  

He hadn’t known what to make of that.  

Her reasoning had been that she was worried Bruce would take it as a threat. Big ol’ goofball Brucie Wayne would take one look at her and assume she was attempting to steal away the precious boy he had loved and cared about for over a year. Except, when he tried to tell her there was absolutely no way he’d ever think like that, would be overjoyed even on Jason’s behalf, she had outright dismissed him. When he pushed it, she got annoyed and more defensive.  

He guessed he could understand where she was coming from. He’d probably be a little nervous in her position, too, but she was so vehemently against Bruce even knowing he knew about her...  

He didn’t know what to do.  

He sat through his classes, distracted and dazed. What if he couldn’t introduce them before Bruce found out Jason had gone behind his back? Then Dick would be mad at both of them for keeping something important from him, even if it was none of his business. He didn’t even know how Alfred would react. He was pretty sure the man would probably be on his side...? Then again, he had been pretty sure Sheila would want to meet his family.  

He felt a harsh poke to his shoulder. He looked over at the tiny boy next to him.  

He raised his eyebrows, looked over to the teacher then back at the older boy in silent conversation. He had a way of doing that; making you feel scolded without ever opening his mouth. Most days Jason isn’t sure if the boy is on par with or better at it than Alfred . It was inspiring and terrifying all at once. Jason didn’t know if he wanted to learn how to do it or if he never wanted the other boy to do that again.  

He shrugged, eyes flickering to the abandoned sheet on his desk before settling back on the boy next to him.  

He rolled his eyes, looking back up to the board as the teacher droned on.  

Jason returned to his thoughts. He wondered briefly if he could get away with going on his phone, but decided against it. Even if the teacher didn’t notice, the little stalker next to him would. He was reasonably sure he wouldn’t snitch, but he would ask uncomfortable questions. It was hard to deny the boy anything, his big owl eyes boring into his soul and making him want to cater to the kid’s every need.  

He wasn’t fully sure that the baby bird wasn’t a meta.  

The moment the bell rang, the boy had grabbed Jason’s wrist to prevent him from hiding out in a bathroom to see if Sheila had emailed him yet. When Jason attempted to protest, he glared at him. Jason followed obediently after him.  

He allowed the boy to take them to their regular empty classroom in the back of the library. They’re pretty sure everyone forgot about it since they changed librarians again, since they never see any sign anyone else ever uses it. He started pulling food from his lunchbox as the other boy started talking.  

“You need to tell me what’s going on with you, Jason,” he started. “You’ve been acting so weird, and you’re avoiding me-”  

“I’m not avoiding you!” Jason protested immediately. “If I was avoiding you, I’d be doing a damn better job at it,” he muttered.  

The other boy looked about as intimidating as a baby chihuahua as he glared at him. “You may not realize it yet, but you absolutely are. You always get like this when you have something on your mind that you haven’t figured out how to say, so say it. What happened? Did you get in another fight with Dick?” his voice was gentler than it had been previously by the end of it.  

Jason sighed. “No, baby bird, it’s just... I found something out last week. Something Bruce definitely knew about. And I don’t know what to do about it.”  

“So spill. We can workshop it together, okay? We can figure this out, Jace.”  

And he did. Jason spilled everything, from finding out Catherine wasn’t his bio mom, to contacting Sheila, to Ethiopia (though, he kept Joker out of it; as far as the baby bird knew, Bruce had a business trip and decided to give Alfred a break for the weekend).  

The kid had looked at him afterwards. “So, Sheila-” he looked at Jason questioning, and when he gave a nod he went on, “-Sheila is the one who gave birth to you, and wants to meet you on your dad’s-”  

“Bruce isn’t my dad,” Jason denied.  

“Fine, Mr. Wayne’s-”  

“Call him Bruce!”  

“ Mr. Wayne’s ,” he emphasized, ignoring Jason’s groans, “Business trip, but she doesn’t want you to tell Mr. Wayne you know or that you’re going to meet her?”  

“Pretty much,” Jason replied miserably.  

“Well, you know what you have to do, right?”  

“What’s that?”  

“You listen to her,” he said seriously, beginning to take some of the celery sticks and peanut butter Alfred had packed them.  

Jason looked at him a minute. “What do you mean?”  

“Well, she’s an adult,” he started, crunching on his celery, “She must have a reason she doesn’t want him to know. Just trust her, okay? It’ll all work out.”  

Jason shrugged, finally grabbing a sandwich and chewing on it thoughtfully, “Yeah, probably. I just...”  

He trailed off. The child looked at him expectantly.  

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep it up. Alfie knows something’s up, I think, and it’s tearing me up to keep quiet about it.”  

He heard a hum. “Yeah, but this isn’t just about you. It’s Sheila’s life, too, and she’s the adult. I’m sure she knows what she’s doing.”  

Jason sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, birdie.”  

The other boy beamed at him, “You’re welcome, Jayjay.”  

Jason smiled back at him. If he didn’t know any better, he’d believe anything that little menace tried to convince him of as long as he had that faux innocent grin.  

Hell, he did know better, and some part of him still believed the little shit.  

The baby bird had made a good point. Sheila did already have a reason to keep this from Bruce, and there was probably one she couldn’t tell him. He’d hadn’t told her he was Robin; they’d only been chatting for a week. On the other hand...  

He felt guilty for not telling his family. He could tell Alfred was worried sick, and Bruce had started catching on. Dick was too busy to notice anything yet, but it was only a matter of time that he’d be home and Jason would have to start lying to him , too...  

He tried to throw himself in his schoolwork the rest of the day, worrying at his lip all the while. When Alfred picked him up at the end of the day, he didn’t know what to say. Finding her had been a dream come true, but sometimes, it felt like he was dirty. Like he was doing something he knew he shouldn’t be during patrol and Batman was right behind him, watching him screw up and boring his disappointed gaze at him all the while.  

He went to his room, barely saying ‘hi’ to Bruce in his study. He did his homework, texted the boy next door about notes he missed being zoned out through the day, helped him with his questions, took his hour-long pre-patrol nap, and got ready.  

When he was Robin, his problems were supposed to go away. They did, for the most part. As Robin, he was invincible, he could hop from roof top to roof top without a care in the world and just... let loose. Jason Todd wasn’t supposed to exist in the suit. He was Robin. But not tonight.  

No, tonight seemed worse, somehow. No matter how hard he tried, or how focused he pretended to be, he couldn’t stop thinking about her and the gnawing feeling that something was wrong, wrong, wrong-  

Maybe that’s why, when Batman and Robin ambushed that trafficking ring they’d found in its early stages, he was distracted. It was such a blur; one second, he was fighting bad guys and kicking butt like Robin does, and the next he was blindly clawing at his own face, actively trying to get his mask off.  

This had probably happened too many times to count, especially in the early days. When you’re a vigilante, sometimes, people do messed up things to you, like pour strange chemicals on your body. The league (and Batman... mostly Batman-) designed suits specifically for when bad guys poured strange chemicals on it, to keep them from hurting you too bad so you can keep fighting. When that skin is exposed, say, on your face, that’s a different story.  

They hadn’t wanted anything too abrasive on the face, since that would rub the sensitive skin raw and make mask-shaped red rings against it, and that’s bad for the secret identity. If Bruce Wayne had Batman-cowl shaped red marks on his face every day, eventually someone would put two and two together and make four. Before he and the team developed the right combo, he apparently got really good at make-up, but then the bat had gotten a certain little bird. 9 yr old Dick Grayson hated the way it felt, but he couldn’t go to school every day with marks on his chubby baby cheeks.  

So, Batman spent months perfecting the best mix of protective and comfortable. He had designed the mask so, while not as soak-proof as the rest of the outfit, you had some time to get it off should anything happen. In addition, the lenses suctioned to the skin, gently enough not to create lasting marks but well enough that nothing should enter and get into the wearer’s eyes in most situations.  

The lenses were enforced, but not unbreakable. They absorbed as much of the impact as possible without completely shattering, but they would crack so they wouldn’t break your eye socket when you got hit in the face. So, if someone were to, say, punch you real hard near both of your eyes while wearing brass knuckles, then pour chemicals on your face, you’d be in some deep trouble.  

The stars had aligned tonight for the worst possible scenario to become reality.  

Jason was screaming, he thought. He clawed at the mask, trying his hardest to get it off with his gloves on as the noise of the fight surrounded him. He wasn’t sure what happened, but when he felt strong arms try to grab him, he fought with all he had left.  

A voice flickered in and out of his adrenaline-fueled stupor, “Ro-… Okay, you... ‘in, Shhh, Robin, it’s me.”  

He finally realized it was just Batman and relaxed. He thought he was crying, it was hard to tell anymore.  

“Papa- papa, I can’t see,” he cried out as he started sobbing. He felt the strong arms around him start to pick him up.  

“Relax, I got you,” he murmured, then- “Agent A, I need you to prepare the med bay with saline and sterile syringes, prepped for flushing. We have a Robin with a clipped wing.” Papa adjusted his hold, starting to run towards where Jason was pretty sure they parked the bat-mobile.  

“Oh, dear,” he heard the butler reply in the comm. “What’s happened?”  

“I’ll fill you in at the Batcave.”  

He couldn’t hear Alfred’s reply over the rush of blood in his ears. He felt papa adjust him to open his door, leaning in the back seat to set him down and gently peel off his mask, rubbing under his right eye for a moment before buckling him in and closing the door. Moments later, he heard the door in front of him open and shut quickly, feeling it roar to life and tear down the road.  

Papa produced a bottle of water and talked him through opening it to pour onto his face. They were still going to flush when they got to the cave, he claimed, but getting as much of it off as early as possible was important. Jason did as he was told, tilting his head back and not bothering to close his eyes as he let the water pour down his burning cheeks. It felt cool against his skin, mixing with the sweat and grime.  

It was humiliating. He felt like he was in his early days again, messing up at every corner and leaving pap-, Batman, to clean up the mess.  

“What happened out there, Robin?” he heard the gruff voice ask from the front seat.  

“He- he had brass knuckles,” he gasped. “Hit me in the face a couple times and broke both my lenses,” if he knew the bat, he probably looked up at that, searching for any sign of bruising, “Then, someone poured the chemicals. Don’t know what they were, they had them stored in an unmarked glass bottle. Brown.”  

“Hn.”  

Jason cringed. It had felt right in the moment, but any time either he or Dick had called out for some version of “dad” in battle, it brought out the worst version of Batman. Overprotective, obsessive, and violent (always towards others, never towards them. Never them, even if sometimes they might deserve it). This version of Batman, who barely wants to let them go live their lives in fear of having them out of his sight. Jason wasn’t going to be patrolling by himself for the rest of the week, if he was allowed to patrol at all.  

His eyes stung. The vision was slowly starting to come back, but it was blurry. He could see some blocks of color; the dash looked like a solid black thing with specs of blue. If he tried to squint, he could barely make out the little ears on Bruce’s cowl for a couple seconds before he the pain was too much and he had to close his eyes again.  

The rest of the night was a blur. He remembered Bruce holding his head gently in his lap as Alfred flushed out his eyes, examining them carefully. Bruce used his mask to find what chemicals were used and, thankfully, they weren’t too potent. They had flushed his eyes in time, and tonight shouldn’t have any lasting effects.  

Sometimes, after a harrowing patrol, either of his little birds could show up in their pajamas by the elevator and wait. Somehow, Bruce always knew. He’d be there within 5 minutes, freshly showered and dressed comfortably with his pink robe, and take them into his room. He’d hold them protectively until they fell asleep. They’d often wake up, still in his embrace in the morning.  

Jason had only participated in this ritual with Dick, could count on one hand the amount of times he had. But tonight was just...  

Well. It was a lot.  

So, after a shower with still-blurry vision and fumbling his way through getting dressed, he went to stand by the elevators to wait for his... for Bruce.  

Instead, he found Bruce standing there waiting, hair already damp in his usual bedtime attire. His pink robe was tied loosely around his waist. He was wearing sweats with a Gray Ghost t-shirt. He held out his arms for Jason to slot into.  

Maybe he was too old for this, but that didn’t matter. Right now, sitting in Bruce’s arms as he carried him into the one room in the house he felt he could sleep in comfortably tonight, he couldn’t care less about it.  

As Bruce laid him down to hold him gently, rubbing his thumb pad over his brow and smoothing down his hair, he felt safe. That’s all that mattered.  

As long as he was with his papa, he was safe.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Danny cringed as he heard another bang from the basement. His parents had decided to stay home to prep for an upcoming convention and he was going nuts .  

He had done all the work Jazz brought home. He’d burned through the majority of her book collection.   

Tucker and Sam had worked together to customize a phone that he could actually use- he normally fried any electronic device he came into contact with for more than a couple weeks. The phone was one of those new, annoying ones that had no headphone jack. It was also a new-enough development that they hadn’t finished customizing a pair of Bluetooth headphones for it. He had lost the headphone adapter nearly immediately after getting it.  

He flinched again as he heard the clang and screech of metal on metal. If he had to listen to this much longer, he was going to start screaming.  

Arguably the worst part of the whole week was the fact that the wound he’d gotten hadn’t healed, like, at all . Ghosts kept coming, they kept fighting him, and they kept aggravating the wound with their own ectoblasts and throwing him into the ground. Not to mention when Maddie herself reopened it throwing a whole harpoon at him . Thankfully it hadn’t gone through, just scraped the absolute heck out of his side, but still! Ow!   

His side burned. Sounds were starting to bug him more. His parents put more ectoplasm in the fridge and hadn’t replaced anything that went sentient yet and his stomach ached with hunger. He hadn’t seen Tucker and Sam in forever and he actually wanted to go to school just to get away from this hell house -  

His head flew backwards and hit the wall. The sound reverberated in his ears, taking over the sounds of downstairs for a few seconds. He did it again, and again, and-  

He was crying. Breathing was weird and it felt vaguely like death. It wasn’t enough, it was never enough.  

His hands rolled into fists and he used his wrists to beat his temples. The pain was grounding, in a way. He could feel hot tears stream down his face and it made him all the more desperate to just make it stop, why wouldn’t it stop -  

The way his shirt was twisted around him was wrong, the sheets were the wrong texture, he could still taste the terrible mint of his toothpaste, the sounds from the basement kept getting louder. Every nerve in his body was on fire and his head ached. He could feel bruises forming on his wrists and temples. It wasn’t enough.  

He grabbed a pillow and screamed . He hadn’t slept more than 10 hours in almost two weeks, he was seeing spiders, he hadn’t had any zesti in days and everything was too much. He took a shuddering breath and screamed again, brain focused on the screeching metal.  

CLANG! CLANG! SCREEEEE-  

His voice raised in pitch to screech with it. He vaguely felt something shaking. His hands came up to tug on his hair. His shirt stuck to his neckline as tears soaked the hem. His throat burned and it was almost a mercy as the migraine he’d created for himself throbbed.  

The metal clanging finally stopped. The screams that had turned into hoarse little sounds calmed in favor of sobs.  

Over the next few minutes, the tears slowed. He carefully pried his hands away from his hair and attempted to soothe himself. He almost wished Jazz was here, but was eternally grateful she hadn’t witnessed his, uh, lapse in judgment.  

He... he should’ve just left, or found an old device or another they had floating around. Embarrassment flushed his cheeks. He threw a fit like a toddler and for what? Because of a few noises? How old was he again?  

He tore his shirt off before another round could start over the fabric. He shuffled over to his drawers, pulling out a soft hoodie and his favorite bottoms. He changed quickly.  

When he was little and these things happened, he went to his parents. They once soothed his aching wrists and checked his head. They would workshop whatever had pushed him this far, making sure he had the tools he needed to prevent it next time. Jazz helped a lot in that regard. But now, they cared more about their career.  

Jazz was at school still. She would help him through these, now, but she wouldn’t always be there for him. He grabbed the fluffy pillow she had given him, pressing his face to it.  

He wanted his mom. He wanted her to rub his back the way only she knew how. He wanted the smell of his dad’s fudge as he did what he could to soothe his son. He never knew what to say, and his hands felt like fire, but he’d always offer fudge and that was enough. He knew his dad was trying to comfort him the best way he knew how and it was enough .  

Jazz would’ve had the space documentary on right now. Tucker and Sam, who always somehow knew exactly what was wrong without asking, would’ve been there with noise cancelling headphones and soft things and would know if it was a time for hugs or hand holding or staying six feet away from him. They knew him. They were perfect .  

He missed them. He was so alone and he still had another week of this. The tears had his face sticky and he was dehydrated so all he was doing right now was that stupid dry sobbing that made him feel like he was faking the whole thing. He started gagging at some point.  

He could feel his teeth and every one of their sockets being stretched grotesquely to fit them. He could feel as his mouth filled with saliva and could hear it swish around every time he moved his tongue. Every little thing someone could tune out normally felt like it was setting him on fire; his breathing in his ears, the mucus in his nose, the inseam of his sock, every little stitch of his clothing, every eyelash scraping against his eye.  

He hadn’t eaten in a few days he could feel his stomach cramp around nothing . Jazz had an important test to study for so he wasn’t going to bug her about food. His parents had eaten out since the ectoplasm incident, so they didn’t feel the need to get more food. They hadn’t gotten anything for Danny since they “didn’t want to reward him for bad behavior while he was suspended”. He was so sick of being suspended.  

His body convulsed as he calmed down. He felt a cold build in his lungs.  

He cursed his luck. The frost blew out of his mouth, sticking to his cheeks. He was going to start screaming again.  

He transformed, shakily starting to fly. He went intangible and went through the wall, trying not to let the way it felt against his body make him go back into a full meltdown. His ghost form was slightly more tolerable, but he could still feel every molecule of being buzz with ectoplasm and it consumed him whole.  

He flew around for a bit before finally finding the thing that had set off his senses.  

Skulker. Jazz had finally convinced him to release the bastard and he was already back. Danny felt his anger levels rise and he was briefly tempted to throw himself at the bricks without going intangible. Instead, he charged.  

He rammed into Skulker full forced as he cackled. They tumbled through the air until they landed on a roof.  

“WHELP!” he cried as Danny started laying into him. “WHAT- HEY! TIME OUT!”  

He grasped the boy by the shoulders and threw him. Danny felt his previous wounds get jostled and his head hit the corner of the building. Even though most of the damage by now was gone because of his ghostly healing, it still hurt. He hissed in pain.  

“What ever happened to the wit! Honestly, whelp, at least put some effort in, it won’t be satisfying to hang your pelt-”  

Danny threw an ecto-blast at him. Skulker narrowly avoided it, his facial expression between impressed and annoyed.  

“You pest! I never thought you’d have it in you-” he grinned, going to attack Danny back. “It’ll be a pleasure to skin you slowly!”  

Danny growled, dodging Skulker and attacking with his ecto-blasts. “DO IT!” he yelled.  

Skulker stuttered for one second, allowing Danny to get him pinned down to the roof.  

The ghost pulled the glowing blade out of his suit, swinging at where he knew the half-boy should be sitting. “I’ll do it!” he threatened, swinging around.  

“DO IT!” he yelled again, shaking the ground around him. “SKIN ME! DO IT!”  

Skulker paused. He... was beginning to feel this was bigger than he first considered it would be. He almost felt like he needed to leave but pressed on.  

“I’m not playing around, half-breed!” he roared. He swiped at the boy, clipping his cheek. He only grinned at him, his fists starting to glow green. He started towards him, shouting again.  

“Good! If you don’t skin me, I might just do it myself !”  

The shaking of the building grew stronger. His voice carried itself in green rings, reverberating around the buildings and shaking the earth. Skulker could feel his armor start to shake like it did whenever Ember did this around him. The child’s words hit him afterwards in the shock of it all.  

Yeah, he probably should’ve tried retreating earlier.  

And besides, just how many powers did this kid have again? He felt like halfas got it all at this point, it was ridiculous.  

Instead of gaining common sense, he picked himself up and launched himself at the boy. Said boy punched him with green fists, screaming- no, wailing at the top of his lungs. Could he even control this?!  

The metal suit came apart with clangs and screeches of metal. The boy whined loudly, his wail once again shaking the buildings around them.  

Skulker was stuck in the helmet as he listened to the boy whimper for a few minutes before he composed himself. He felt the boy pick his helmet up and shake it vigorously as he flew.  

The boy said nothing as he turned intangible and went through a wall. The small ghost in the helmet sat there in silence as he listened to the boy crying. He heard the tell-tale sign of him going back to his human form.  

He had been pointed at the ceiling, so all he saw was snippets of things being thrown over top of him. He didn’t dare speak, but it was weird that the little whelp had been silent this long.  

Normally it was making noise and being annoying. Snarky comments and witty anecdotes, but today... nothing.  

He heard noises from other parts of the house. He thought he could make out the sound of those ghost hunters voices, but that was weird. If this was the little ghost’s haunt, why would ghost hunters...?  

Realization slammed into him like a ton of bricks. The little half-breed was still human. It still had parents. Its parents were the hunters that they had learned to avoid within the last year or so of having the portal in the basement.  

Ohhh, this was bad. This was so, so bad. He remembered every time he had been captured and had a new appreciation for the little whelp never turning them over to its parents. He... also realized just how dangerous this all was for it.  

He listened to the boy as he pulled things from places, ripping noises and grunts of pain.  

Skulker found himself wondering just how the half-breed worked. If he got injured. If he knew this was just playing around for them.  

He heard the boy start whimpering again, starting to jump around desperately. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but it did it with an almost manic edge to it. The distress of the creature was palpable in the room.  

The thing eventually collapsed onto its bed. He could hear its panting from where he lay on the floor.  

He wasn’t sure how long they staid like that before the thing's sister entered the room. He heard her voice attempting to soothe as smells filled the space they resided in. He could hear agitation in the thing’s voice as it responded.  

The, what was it called again? ‘Fenton Thermos’ didn’t provide anything except darkness and silence. That was arguably the worst part of it, not being granted the passage of time, or companionship while being stuck, unless there were multiple ghosts there at once. But this? He wasn’t sure this was better. This somehow felt more wrong than trying to skin the whelp alive, for ancients’ sakes.  

He couldn’t even do anything to help. Or to hurt, whichever came first. Being stuck in his helmet gave him the perspective he never had, and stripped him of being able to use it at all. This was probably the worst he had felt after getting a beatdown from the half-breed.  

He heard shouting next. Between the thing and its sister. Something about never giving it space and how it never came to her with its problems. It felt too... ‘absolutely not his business’ for his taste.  

Eventually, he heard more screaming. He felt the room shake and he almost said something, then decided against it.  

When it stopped, he felt his helmet get snatched up and thrown up against the wall. He didn’t make a sound as the thing raged.  

All at once, he felt the whelp race down the stairs. Watched through the lenses of his helmet as he went through the portal and started flying. He saw glimpses of territories in the Zone as they flew by.  

He saw through the lenses, but mostly felt it when they reached his territory in the Zone. It was something every ghost felt when they entered their haunt. He also mostly felt it when the little whelp threw his helmet into his haunt . It could be so rude sometimes!  

No matter. He had already made up his mind.  

He started rolling the helmet towards the center of his haunt. He needed to rebuild first, but this was too big of a thing to keep to himself.  

He needed to tell someone of the boy’s situation.  

After dropping off Skulker (emphasis on drop ), Danny was... hesitant to go home. He could normally spend days in the Zone and never face an issue. He wanted to stay in the Zone, until his skin felt like his and his mind stopped buzzing.  

But fighting with Jazz wasn’t an excuse. That was mostly his dumb fault. If he wasn’t such an oversensitive crybaby, he wouldn’t have snapped at her. She was just trying to be nice, and he blew it.  

He couldn’t handle it anymore. The only reason he could even go into the Zone was because she had told their parents of the rumor that Skulker’s suit had been found (the same suit that Tucker and Sam had already cleaned up following reports of a freak ‘earthquake’). His parents were driving him nuts and he was starting to fear he’d never be okay again.  

He could blame the accident for a lot. It took away his chances of ever becoming an astronaut. It took away his security in the world. It took away his ability to feel invincible in the way that kids do. But this wasn’t the accident’s fault.  

He was born broken. He was born with his skin too tight, too-large teeth, and something bubbling in his throat, begging to get out. He was born wrong.  

There was... there was just no fixing that. He was going to be broken forever.  

He would always have to live with the fact that everything that was wrong with him was purely something he did. Jazz could say whatever she wanted about it.  

Daniel Fenton, even before the accident, was broken. Not even Jazz could fix that.  

He could never fix himself.  

#ailesswhumptober2023 #dp x dc #jason todd #danny fenton #danny phantom #dc robin #robin #batman #ai-less whumptober day three #Kite Flies Over The Nightingale Nest

[lonelier-version-of-you]

About to rewatch S20E10 “Square One”. If I recall correctly this ep is the first time John loses a trial patient, so that should be interesting.

Edit 1: Oh Zav I miss you.

Edit 2: John on his iconic dictaphone. Also watching these episodes knowing what the 8th Doctor’s TARDIS looks like, I’m convinced the whole luminous blue vibe of John’s lab was an intentional shoutout to it.

Edit 3: I love this little Donna and Serena scene.

Edit 4: I really do love me some good morally ambiguous John content. They should’ve kept him this way, it was a lot more interesting than the supervillain direction they took him in.

Also Jac high on pain meds and actually being happy and friendly for once is hilarious.

And, a line from Fletch: “Have I stepped into a parallel Darwin?” Nah, Fletch, the parallel Darwin came later, in 2021 when Sahira was suddenly Henrik’s childhood friend for some reason.

Edit 5: We went from a Zav scene to a Jason scene just now. What a downgrade.

Also, gah, Jason: “Prison should be for bad, dangerous people, not good people like Ric who are just doing their best!” WHY DOES HE TALK LIKE A 5 YEAR OLD IT’S SO ANNOYING. I know we autistics tend to have different speech patterns but the way to write that is not to write dialogue on literally the same level you’d write dialogue for a neurotypical child character.

Edit 6: I love Roxanna’s blouse in this ep.

Edit 7: Absolute legend Ken Davies is back! I’d forgotten he was in this ep!

Edit 8: Jac is so fucking beautiful. She literally looks like a goddess or something.

Edit 9: John was SO blatantly severely mentally ill the whole time why did no one intervene??

Also lol @ Ollie joking about his lack of motor skills to Lofty the dyspraxic man.

Edit 10: When Jac said “it’s miraculous what a full 5 hours’ kip can do for you” I felt that.

Edit 11: I actually agree with Serena on something for once - the ‘Ric in prison’ storyline WAS “utter madness”.

Edit 12: The Rox and John dynamic was really fascinating. Also, John’s body language is VERY Henrik-esque in this episode.

And why does John talk like me? “There’s been no improvement, alas!” 😂

Edit 13: This episode is Jason in his 5-year-old era and not in a realistic developmental delay way (look at someone like Chantelle, she was autistic coded and “childish” but wasn’t written like an actual child) but in a ableist writing way.

Edit 14: ZAV!! I love his outfit in this ep. Also, it’s truly amazing how much character development he had when he was only on the show for 2 years.

Edit 15: Interesting dialogue. Rox: “I would err on the side of caution.” John: “You always do.”

Edit 16: Love the Jac and Ken banter. “I did the best I could, but despite my efforts, you pulled through.”

Edit 17: Rosie Marcel is SO good.

Edit 18: Zav was such an asshole when he first started out.

Edit 19: John on the dictaphone again!

Edit 20: John’s despair about the trial failing reads differently looking back after the later reveal that it was all about trying to save Lana.

Also, him lying to Essie and saying the implant didn’t fail... oof.

Edit 21: Very visible anxious stimming from John when his patient goes into arrest.

Also fuck I basically stole this scene for my one unfinished fanfic without remembering. I hope everyone thinks it was a deliberate parallel lmao.

Edit 22: I think the patient’s mum is doing a guest-character-speaking-for-staff member moment when she’s talking about the trial to John: “I didn’t think of the risks.”

Edit 23: Paul McGann is an INCREDIBLE actor.

Edit 24: John not wanting to bother Henrik by calling him about the Medical Director job :’))

Also, funny thing is, when John said he just wants what’s best for his patients I do believe he genuinely thought that.

Edit 25: HENRIK

Edit 26: “Meetings, paperwork... hardly John’s field of expertise, is it?” Lmaooo

Edit 27: I love early John with the curly hair.

Edit 28: John is very very good at manipulating people, whether he’s using it for good (as he is in this case - seeking the Medical Director job and talking Serena into giving it to him so he can help Roxanna fight for the TMS for Ollie) or not. One has to think Henrik picked up some techniques from him. I mean, the Henrik we saw in the flashback episode couldn’t manipulate anyone if he tried, I don’t think.

Edit 29: Lofty saying he’s not like Isaac aged poorly :(

Edit 30: Zav showing a moment of tenderness towards Nicky.

Edit 31: John on Henrik: “He’s like the rest of us. Lost without a stethoscope.”

Edit 32: Serena saying she’d cheerfully hand Gaskell the CEO job. That’s so fucking funny in hindsight of how John turned out.

#gaskell rewatch liveblog

[abeastoftheborough]

Blind Spot(s)

“How did last night go? Did Jason say he’d take you out again?”

The flat, almost dull thud of two pairs of sneakers reverberate in the large lecture hall as a couple of first year students shuffle in tiredley, their hair barely in place and coffees purchased from the nearby Starbucks held firmly in hand.

“No, but that’s okay, I don’t think I’m all that into him, to be honest. He was so boring and to make it worse-”

The sounds of their chatter dies out, fading into the background as Charlie shifts his focus to the leather shoulder bag he’s plopped down onto the desk in front of him, now pulling various items from in order to get himself ready for the morning’s first class. It’s always the same conversations gracing his classroom on bright, sunny mornings such as this: anecdotes of dates gone bad, ungodly things experienced at frats, all of which are accompanied by utterly exhausted students who wish to be anywhere but this room.

A stack of syllabuses is organized neatly at the left hand corner of the wooden desk and as Charlie reaches for his bag in preparation of storing it away for the duration of the class, movement near the class’ entryway captures his attention. He lifts his head and glances in that direction, greeted by the sight of a student who instantly stands out from the rest.

Like the others, she holds a coffee in one hand and her reading materials in the other, but unlike the others, her hair sits perfectly in place, cascading down past her shoulders which - like the rest of her - is lightly tanned as if she has just come back from some far flung destination. The pearl necklace that sits around her neck is a delicate one, small like her stature, he notes silently. The gold of the earrings she wears catches and reflects the sun that pours in through the nearby windows, sending a near blinding streak of light across Charlie’s eyes and yet…he finds that he cannot look away.

It feels as if it takes no time at all to get her under his proverbial spell, but then again, Charlie has never had any trouble in this department. His wiles and charm are his most valuable assets and never has he been one to shy away from utilizing either to his advantage. He has long since learned her name, but he calls her Kitten; it is a nickname born out of manipulation but the more time he is around her, the more he discovers just how much he enjoys her presence. She, he finds, loves the term of endearment and so he continues referring to her as such.

His Kitten is a feisty one, a trait that he would typically find to be anything but desirable considering his extracurricular activities, but there is also an air of submission that allows him to continue his nightly habits without disruption. She stays away when instructed and comes when called and - at least for the time being - she never gives him any shit for it. He feels like the god that he is and, for the first time in his life, he thinks that he may be able to have both his carnal and romantic desires sated simultaneously.

With a routine unimpeded by his new-found relationship, Charlie once again finds himself in the darkened alleyways of the urban landscape. Hidden amongst the shadows of towering buildings, he watches a most interesting scene unfold before him.

There is an air of panic in the way the unidentified male paces the slender width of the alley only further punctuated by the swiping of a hand through their hair. Charlie watches silently, his presence seemingly undetected as the other man slides a pair of gloves back onto his hands and makes a rather careless move though…Charlie supposes he really does have no other option at this point.

A tut of disapproval and disappointment sounds as Charlie’s tongue clicks off the roof of his mouth, simultaneously stepping forward to make himself known. “Dumping a body in the dumpster,” he asks incredulously. “Bit amateur hour, don’t you think? Though…” Charlie pauses, his hands shoved into his pockets and his eyes sliding from the dumpster to the man he now shares the alley with. “...Judging by the look of things, I’d venture to guess that this night hasn’t exactly gone according to plan.”

#MCK #stranglermatt #asthehourspass #cw: murder #cw: death #cw: manipulation

[passingdaysthings]

4.23.2023 -Annoyance

Today is Sunday. 

I am currently sitting at the boba shop trying to catch up on lectures and readings. I won’t be able to concentrate if I can’t get this off my chest though. I spent the first 2 hours ish of my studying day talking to Taylor, but that was because I was answering some wedding things with Tracy for Jason’s wedding next year. I was talking to him about random unimportant stuff as always, and everything was chill. I am already on edge about how much I need to catch up on so I can do my homework for this week. I am writing this right now because I need to vent my annoyance about a comment he made. He talked about convincing Victoria to go to Houston so that he could tell his grandpa that Victoria would be his future wife (because his grandpa is racist). That really rubbed me the wrong way. I can’t say I have feelings for him, but it’s annoying that he talks about Victoria after what we went through in our relationship. Victoria is also one of my best friends so it always puts me in an awkward situation. Like dude... you’re talking to the girl you use to have a very blurred relationship with. I get that we don’t have that kind of relationship now, but it’s still pretty awkward. I blame mostly myself though because I let him manipulate me into doing what we did, but I wonder if he even cares? Did he know what he was doing the whole time or does he genuinely not know why he flirted with me and did those things? What about all the stuff from before our blurred relationship? What is his definition of a best friend? I haven’t really asked myself these things in sometime since I just decided to stop trying to understand him, but I am so annoyed right now.  Sometimes I think he cares about me, and other times, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t care for me whatsoever. Like, can he please talk about someone that isn’t my friend? That would be cool. I think I also feel some type of way because Victoria knows that extent of our relationship so its weird knowing everything. There is no way he thinks Victoria doesn’t know everything about us? I also wonder if he talks to Victoria the way he talks to me. I kind of doubt that they talk about anything deeper than kpop though because Taylor isn’t comfortable about talking about his person life issues and details in depth, and I don’t think Victoria would even give him the time of day to talk about it? Me and Victoria also had a conversation about how Taylor is legitimately so shallow because he only every talks about looks and nothing more which I added on...I also only know that his exes were all people he thought were pretty, but I never really heard about who they were as people. I just know that they all cheated on him. He does talk about liking Victoria for her personality, but I can’t ever tell if he is serious about that because knowing the two of them, they would constantly butt heads if they both spoke their minds. He literally goes from calling Victoria a whore/cradle robber to calling himself a Victoria simp, but this wishy-washyness is also very in his personality. I need to really get over whatever it is I feel because I don’t have time for this. I should be studying right now, but here I am, writing about my annoyance because I couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

Paula, you know that at the end of the day, you could just cut him off and stop talking to him if he is annoying you to this extent. You are just hanging onto memories from the past just like you did with Peter. You should at least let go of whatevever soft spot feelings you have for him. 

-P 

[aphrodite-made-me-write-it]

Habits - Part 1

(A/N) oh hey, it’s the comeback (cumback?) fic i didn’t intend to be the comeback fic. i really did want to update stuff and post this other yelena fic i have that’s actually cute and has a real plot to it but instead i read Come Back To Me by reminiscingtonight and it was just so goshdarn good that it got me to write this garbage instead! her fic is extremely good and it has 3 parts to it!!! hotdamn!!! i read it at work and it made me happy. anyway, hi! i had to cut this into two parts! expect inconsistency! i’m back to a 6-7 day work schedule with the holidays but i do have something kinda planned for december! ok enough rambling! let’s do this!

Rating: E (literal p0rn without much plot) 18+ Only!

Warnings: fuckboy!yelena (lowkey tho lmfao); protectiveAF!natasha; hella smut; ye olde ‘best friend’s sibling’ trope; nat and yelena are only 2 years apart in this bc it makes me feel better abt age gaps and ill be honest math is not my strongsuit; yelena basically fucks ur brains out idk what else to say; oh, also, reader’s parents r shitty and manipulative; mentions of past abuse, but super brief; really the parents dont pay too much of a role in this half

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader; Natasha x Fem!Best Friend!Reader; Natasha x Wanda Maximoff (i love redheads)

Chapter Word Count: 7.2k

Total Word Count: 30.1k

Synopsis: It’s been a few years since you last saw your childhood best friend, Natasha, and her little sister, Yelena. Transferring colleges leads to you needing a roommate, and that roommate just so happens to be Natasha. Not much has changed between you, you’re still thick as thieves. Her sister, however, is a completely different story.

| Part Two | Part Three | Part Four |

gif source

 Russian Translations: Malyshka - babygirl; Milaya - darling; Dorogoy - sweetheart |

You’ve known Natasha Romanoff for, practically, your entire lives. Your friendship was sealed the day she pushed Jason Grey off of the swingset for calling you ugly in the first grade. You were basically inseparable after that. 

Yelena is adopted when you and Natasha are nine, and she is seven. Melina and Alexei had adopted Natasha before leaving Russia, and were apparently keen on adopting the little toddler young Natasha couldn’t stand to leave behind. It took a few years for the paperwork to go through, and the payoff, it seemed, was worth it. The second they’re reunited, Yelena and Natasha are sisters without a doubt. It may not have been by blood, but that didn’t matter.

Of course, Yelena is also adopted into your friendship with the redhead soon after. Yelena was curious while she adjusted to her new life, always inquisitive and asking questions. Eventually, her curiosity turned into complete headstrong foolishness. Sneaking home lizards and the like. 

You didn’t mind, though. 

In all honesty, you preferred their house to your own.

Your dad was a very busy person, and your mom wasn’t the best company. She was a perfectionist, through and through, and often expected the same from you. The pressure was really put on you when you started middle school. You needed the best grades, the highest place in whatever after school activities you chose. It was grating, exhausting, and their fights that rode late into the night never helped things.

Still, Yelena and Natasha were your distraction from it all. The more pleasant side of life, the side you couldn’t stand leaving.

Until, of course, you had to.

You’re fifteen when it happens, the threat of it. The word felt so ugly and obscene at the time. Divorce. You spent hours in Natasha’s room crying, both sisters helplessly holding you until you ran out of tears. 

That Christmas, your mother actually left until February. That was when your father really began to spiral. He lost his job. He started drinking. He started yelling at you. Started hitting you. You could have told someone - you should have. You only told Natasha and Yelena, though, forcing them to swear to never tell a soul. It was stupid of you, really.

You’re weeks away from sixteen when the shoe finally drops.

He hits your mom. She grabs you, and you’re driving out of town before you can even process it. The image of Natasha and Yelena following your mother’s car has, naturally, haunted you every waking moment since it happened. Your mom was always very anti-social-anything. No cellphones, no email, nothing. Contact with your best friends was hopeless. Gut-wrenchingly hopeless.

You’re grown-up, now. At least, on paper. The rest of high school was spent all the way in New York City, and you didn’t make many friends. You dated a few people here and there, but mostly you focused on your schoolwork the way your mother demanded you to. It became a saving grace, the idea of getting somewhere far away from her.

You don’t get far for long, though. Your first two years are spent at a college you can go to from home. You hate every second of it, and it takes a long while to convince her to let you transfer to another school where you won’t have to be watched like a hawk.

That leads you, at last, to Temple University. Philadelphia. Sure, it’s just a few hours’ drive away but that distance is fucking gold to you. You had originally searched for a roommate through a variety of social medias, looking for friends of friends you could possibly bunk up with - and that, miraculously, lead you back to Natasha.

The reunion is the happiest you’ve felt in so long, you cry. You spend hours catching up among the unpacked boxes, when Yelena is brought up.

“She’s coming a week after me. I transferred from Ohio State, and she’ll be a freshman. God, she’s gonna be thrilled to see you. She spent, like, months crying over you when you left.” 

You snort. “What, and you didn’t?”

“How could I when she was inconsolable?” Natasha scoffs. “It did suck, though. We missed you. I missed you.” She squeezes your hand tightly. “And now we can finally get drunk together like we planned for your sweet sixteen.”

“I didn’t get a drop of alcohol until I got to college,” you gripe. “Mom became like, the grade demon of my worst nightmares.”

“Your dad still lives there. Why didn’t you visit?”

“Yeah, joint custody didn’t last long.” You cringe. “He, uh, got one supervised visit with me in New York and sort of strangled me.”

“Dude, what the fuck?”

“It’s chill, now,” you lean back against the sofa, the only piece of furniture in your living room that’s accessible. “I mean, it’s whatever. He’s a deadbeat, anyways.”

And for the next handful of days, you and Natasha become as close as you had been before you left. Some bonds just transcend years like that, and you’re glad it was this way for you and Natasha.

The week before school leads to Natasha wanting to throw a party to celebrate. You aren’t surprised she’s already made friends here - she’s always been the more social type - but she seems very giddy when she explains her reasoning.

“Does this have to do with that Sokovian chick?” You ask when Natasha finishes cleaning the place for the millionth time since she’d woken up this morning. (Which, by the way, was six o’clock, because Natasha is fucking insane.) “Wendy?”

She glares at you from over her shoulder. “Wanda,” she corrects. “And, no.” 

You laugh at the flush on her cheeks. “So if she shows up to the party I should tell her it’s invite-only?”

“No! Don’t be an asshole!” Natasha whines, throwing the paper towel she’d been using to wipe the bookshelf. It’s not even dirty, but you smack it away with a squeal. “And, by the way, there’s another surprise guest coming, but it’s a secret.”

“Ooh, my favorite actress wrapped in a nice little bow for me?” You ask with a dramatic fluttering of your eyelashes.

“Don’t be gross.” Natasha scolds. “You’re worse than Yelena.”

“Little innocent Yelena?” You cackle, knowing full-well the blonde had been nothing short of troublesome and clever when you left. 

“I have it on good authority that she was being a fuckboy when I moved away.” Natasha tuts. “She was just waiting ‘til I left before she started fooling around with people. Typical.”

“Could it be that anyone interested in her was terrified of her big sister roasting them alive?” You inquire teasingly, tapping your chin as if you were truly considering what other options there could be.

“Very funny.” Natasha rolls her eyes. “I wouldn’t ‘roast them alive’. They’d scream too much, I’d get caught immediately.”

The seriousness in her tone makes you laugh. “Yeah, I wouldn’t be caught dead or alive looking at your sister like that.”

She sticks her tongue out in response, quite childishly. You really, really missed her.

- - - - -

Okay, fine, surprise surprise, the girl with the strict mother is a lightweight. So what. 

You aren’t hammered, you’re more aware of yourself than that. You’re two drinks in, though, so you’re chattier than usual and a bit too bold. Natasha says you’re a riot when you’re drunk, so that’s something, at least.

You’d just disengaged yourself from a conversation with a guy named Steve - who was strangely old-fashioned but incredibly sweet - to get a drink when you slam into a body. Off-balanced from the rush of blood to your head, you’re lucky that the person steadies you with strong arms before you can fall flat on your face.

You look up at your savior and immediately lose all ability to speak and think and breathe. She’s got blonde hair and gorgeous green eyes, the smirk on her face smug as she watches the way you take in her muscular body. She’s damn hot, a ripped band t-shirt underneath a red flannel, cuffed jeans and combat boots - this is a woman who also likes women, which happens to be one of your favorite type of women.

“Don’t tell me you’re already wasted,” the Russian accent surprises you less than the husky richness of her voice. Oh fuck. She’s really hot. You should say something cool, probably.

“No, she’s just a fucking lightweight,” Natasha’s voice is a saving grace. You look at her with a desperate, silent plea. “(Y/N), meet our secret special guest: Yelena.”

Holy shit.

“Y-Yelena?” You stammer, stiff as a statue as the blonde hasn’t moved her hands from your waist yet. 

“Long time no see,” she grins.

You step away from her, hoping to clear your head a little. “Y-you, uh, you grew up.” She’s taller than you by a few inches, now. 

She chuckles. “I have,” she confirms, the amusement in her tone telling you that she hasn’t forgotten the way you’d eyed her like a piece of meat moments before.

Natasha looks between you for a moment, an unreadable expression on her face, before she jumps and looks down at her phone. “Wanda’s almost here. I’m gonna go meet her outside. Keep this one out of trouble,” she points at Yelena, who pouts at the accusation of being troublesome.

You make a whipping sound when Natasha walks away, joining Yelena in gut-twisting laughter when Natasha flips you off.

And then you’re alone.

With Yelena.

Out of things to talk about.

“D-d’you wanna drink?” It comes out rushed and awkward, because now that Yelena is looking at you again you feel extremely nervous. 

“Sure,” the blonde is smirking again. You’re starting to dread that smirk.

You lead her to the kitchen, fighting hard to keep your mind from going anywhere but the blonde behind you. What the fuck was WRONG with you? This was Yelena. Little Yelena, who Natasha had just said she’d kill people for and you have absolutely zero doubts in your mind that Natasha Romanoff could get away with murder.

You and Natasha had been reunited for little more than a month and you were thinking of her sister in ways you absolutely, totally, should not. 

It’s not until you’re in the kitchen that you remember it’s a closed off room, unique to the apartment complex, effectively trapping you with Yelena, without any other partygoers.

Shit.

“S-so, what’s your poison?” You ask, turning to the several bottles of liquor you and Natasha acquired for the party.

“I think I’ve already found it,” she’s way closer than you’d expected. She leans against the counter barely a foot away; close enough to be in your space, but not so close that you’re brushing skin. It’s still too close, you think. 

“Nat made sure we had that- that, uh, jet fuel you Russians call vodka.” You reach for the bottle with slightly shaking hands, amazed at how much she’s affected you by just being near you. You feel like a stupid, horny teenager and she literally only touched you once to keep you from falling over.

“I’m not talking about vodka.” Yelena steps forward and you suck in a sharp breath. She’s way too close now. “You know, I always had a bit of a thing for you, growing up.” She says it so casually, you actually don’t process the words at first. “When you left, it was my first real heartbreak.”

“Yelena-” you start, but she keeps talking:

“And just when I thought you were gone forever, Natasha tells me you’re her new roommate.” She licks her lips, and your stupid eyes can’t help tracing the motion. Her smirk widens. “I knew I couldn’t pass up the chance.”

“The chance to- to what, exactly?” You squeak, eyeing the door behind her. Is anyone going to come in here and save you? Do you want them to?

Yelena raises an eyebrow, cocking her head to the side. She’s leaning closer. You find yourself quite frozen, unable perhaps unwilling to move from your spot. “I saw the way you looked at me. You want this just as much as I do.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You lie. You’ve never been a good liar.

Yelena laughs. “Ha! You’re still a terrible liar.”

“And you’re a brat.” You mutter, and then she’s got you pinned to the counter, the edge digging uncomfortably into your back. Both of her palms rest on either side of you. You’re trapped. You’re definitely going to die here.

“Oh, am I?” She teases, amused as she leans in close enough for her breath to ghost your lips. “What does that make you, then?”

“Natasha’s best friend.” You put your hands on her shoulders, pushing lightly to keep the distance between you and hopefully encourage some more. “Who does not want to die a horrible, bloody death for having Natasha finding her pinned against a counter by her little sister.”

Yelena hums, a thoughtful sort of sound that’s very low in her throat. “Who cares about what Natasha thinks? I don’t.”

“You should.” You sound suddenly hoarse as Yelena’s eyes flicker down to your lips.

The front door opens. You push Yelena harder than you’d intended, but she doesn’t budge much. Holy fuck she’s strong. She moves aside though, chuckling lowly as you put a respectable distance between you.

Natasha bursts into the kitchen, Wanda Maximoff in tow while the pair giggle scandalously. Your best friend pauses, looking at you and then Yelena, apparently picking up on the tension that still remains.

“Oh, is this your girlfriend?” Yelena asks, successfully erasing whatever the fuck that was.

You’re in trouble.

You’re in deep, deep fucking trouble.

- - - - -

The next morning, you stumble into the kitchen sleepily. Wanda spent the night in Natasha’s room, but luckily you were out like a light the second you laid down. Yelena took up the couch with two of your four blankets - why Natasha couldn’t spare her own sister some blankets, you’re too frightened to ask - and the mass of blonde hair splayed over the armrest tells you she’s still sound asleep.

You breathe out a sigh of relief once you’ve made a cup of coffee, and it turns soft moan of appreciation when you take your first sip.

“Morning,” a voice startles you, making hot liquid spill over your fingers. You wince, setting the mug down as you turn to face the intruder. Your words get caught in your throat when your eyes find Yelena. Yelena who, apparently, slept in a sports bra and Natasha’s old sweatpants last night.

When your eyes move back to Yelena’s face, she’s wearing that stupid cocky smirk again.

“You know, for someone who denies eye-fucking me, you seem to do it an awful lot.” Yelena sneers. Your cheeks warm considerably. You take your mug and move to the kitchen table, too cowardly to duck out of the conversation and too afraid of her bringing it to the living room where Natasha most certainly could hear it.

“I’m not eye-fucking anybody,” you huff.

“That must be why you’re the color of a tomato.”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh,” her smirk widens, “is that an offer?”

You scoff. “Holy shit, you really are impossible.”

“Maybe you should just admit the truth to yourself.” She begins making her own cup of coffee. You’re relieved to not have those piercing eyes on you anymore, but you don’t let down your guard. 

“And what truth is that?” You ask, hoping to sound casual.

“You’re just as into me as I’m into you.” She answers simply, throwing a look over her shoulder. “It’s alright, I don’t mind waiting. I’ve waited this long.”

You grit your teeth. “Jesus, Lena.”

“I’m just being honest.” She joins you at the table, looking calm as ever even though you’re practically having a meltdown internally. “I’ve wanted you since I could want anyone like that.”

“You really shouldn’t say shit like that.”

“Why?”

“Because-”

“If you’re gonna use the best friend excuse again, it’s a shit one.” Yelena rolls her eyes, sipping her coffee. You cross your arms defiantly, earning an amused grin from the blonde. “If anything, she should be happy. She already likes you.”

“That will change the second I touch you.”

“So you do want to touch me?”

You bite your tongue. How the fuck does she keep coming at you so fast like this? You haven’t even finished your first damn cup of coffee. It’s too early for this.

“Yelena-”

“Oh! Sorry!” A familiar voice pulls your attention to the doorway. Wanda is standing there in one of Natasha’s shirts and a pair of pajama pants. There are hickeys all over her neck, her hair clearly messed up from a long night. “I didn’t hear you guys. Kitchen’s practically sound-proof.” She chuckles awkwardly, eyeing the coffee pot. “Is- is that fresh?”

“Yep, help yourself.” You nod and she quickly makes two cups of coffee. You and Yelena share a meaningful look, united in your opportunity to tease Natasha later.

“So, Yelena,” Wanda begins, cutting the silence. “Natasha said you got a scholarship here for lacrosse. That’s cool.”

“Yeah,” Yelena leans back in her seat, grinning. “Been at it since freshman year of high school. My grades were fine, but this was the only offer that was a full-ride.”

Wanda hums, eyeing the door with a soft expression. “That’s nice. I’ll see you guys later, yeah?”

When she leaves, you’re once again emerged in that strangely charged atmosphere that seems to gravitate between you and Yelena.

“I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not stick around to hear Natasha and Wanda go for round two.” She says, wrinkling her nose.

“Dunno, the kitchen is pretty soundproof apparently. This could be our only safe space for a few hours.” You say it flippantly, meaning it entirely as a joke, but suddenly Yelena looks like the cat who caught the canary.

“And what do you suggest we do to pass the time?” She asks.

“You’re right, a day out sounds great,” you stand so quickly the chair almost falls over. Yelena is cackling at you, but you ignore her. “Get dressed, jerk, we’re going into the city.”

- - - - -

“Ooh, this is cool,” Yelena eyes the vest with a hungry expression. 

You snort. “What, are you enlisting?”

She rolls her eyes. “Do you not see all of those pockets? I could fit so many things in there, you wouldn’t even know.”

You’ve been out with Yelena for the better part of three hours, and in that time you’ve come to realize how much you’d missed her. Not that you weren’t aware of it before, but it feels like the world was somewhat dull without her presence. Her sarcasm, her cleverness, her mischievous grin. 

She’s too endearing for your own good. 

And beautiful, too. You think that’s the worst part. You often just find yourself looking at her, in awe of how she looks and speaks and acts. Still so confident in herself and everything she does, in the most mundane situations. Right now, as she pulls on the vest to look at herself in the mirror, she looks lovelier than ever. 

Oh no, you think distantly. This was not a good idea! 

“What do you think?” She asks, giving herself a long once over before turning to look at you. “I look good, right?”

You smile, unable to resist it. “You look very cool.”

“I knew it!” She hisses under her breath, turning back to the mirror. She really is cute. She catches your gaze through the reflection, winking when your eyes meet. You blush, deciding the floor is very interesting and a thousand times cooler than anything else in the store.

“Damn, it’s thirty-six dollars,” Yelena sighs. 

“I’ll buy it for you,” you offer without thinking about it.

Yelena throws her arms around your neck and for a horrifying moment you brace yourself for her lips to meet yours. Instead, she hugs you, and you have to force yourself to relax again.

“You’re so sweet, thank you,” she gushes.

You’re in deep shit, you just know it.

Natasha calls you around two to ask where you and Yelena were. By this point, you’d made your way to a little cafe, where you ended up talking about what happened in your years of separation. Yelena is relentlessly flirty, apparently keen on proving to you that you’re attracted to her and you certainly aren’t making a good case for yourself what with all the blushing and, admittedly, occasional flirtatious comment.

When you tell her where you are, Natasha says she and Wanda will join you.

“Aw, and I was enjoying our date,” Yelena pouts when you tell her the news.

“This was a date?” You ask with an amused snort.

“Of course it was. You bought me this nice vest and breakfast, and you also just bought me coffee.” Yelena rolls her eyes, as if it were obvious.

“Do me a favor and don’t ever call this a date in front of Natasha. I like my blood inside of my body.” You warn.

“So you agree, then?” Yelena brightens. “This is a date?”

“Yelena-”

“I’m just repeating what you said,” she bats her eyelashes innocently.

You sigh, rolling your eyes and pointedly not responding. She seems to take this as a victory, since she’s still in a happy mood by the time Natasha and Wanda join you.

“Cool vest,” Wanda compliments, sitting beside Yelena while Natasha takes the seat beside you. 

“Thanks,” Yelena grins, “(Y/N) bought it for me.”

“What, did she ‘forget’ to bring her wallet?” Natasha scoffs, earning a pout from her sister.

“It’s a few belated birthday presents,” you excuse, heart warming just a little more when Yelena’s eyes meet yours again. Her lips are ever so slightly curved upwards, an almost unnoticeable smile.

You spend another hour or two at the cafe before Yelena complains about having to stay at a dorm her first year. 

“Moving in with you guys would be so much easier,” she sighs. 

“We only have two bedrooms.” Natasha snorts. “I’m not sharing my bed with you, you’re a violent sleeper.”

“Am not!” Yelena gasps, clutching her chest. “That is a baseless accusation.”

“You literally punched me in the face once.” Natasha scowls.

You burst out with laughter. You were actually there for that one. You were all still pretty young, so you managed to squeeze into a small tent in Natasha’s backyard. Yelena practically begged to be between you, but Natasha was right: she’s a violent sleeper. She kicked a lot, but she was always facing away from you, so it was always Natasha who got kicked. When Natasha tried to turn Yelena over to face you because you were laughing at Natasha, the blonde woke up and suckerpunched Natasha with such impressive accuracy you couldn’t stop laughing.

“Keep laughing, (Y/N),” Natasha warns, “and I’ll start thinking you two are up to something.”

You have to fight the very sudden rise of panic in your chest. What the hell are you worried for? You aren’t up to anything! This wasn’t even a date!

“You’ve caught us,” Yelena recovers, casting you a sly smirk. “We’re conspiring against you.”

“I fucking knew it.” Natasha throws a balled up napkin at her sister.

- - - - -

It’s the last Saturday before school starts. Since the party on Wednesday, Natasha and Wanda have been entirely consumed with one another and Yelena has decided that tormenting you is her favorite pastime. When she drops by unannounced, she makes it a point to tease you and flirt with you when Natasha isn’t watching or listening.

Even worse, when you go to sleep, you keep dreaming about her. Yelena has become a permanent fixture in the back of your mind, always a second-thought. You hate yourself for it. You should be thinking of Natasha first, and how goddamn betrayed she’d feel if you went off and slept with her baby sister.

You’ve decided tonight is going to be a good night to get absolutely wasted. 

It’s not going well.

You’re on drink two and you’ve moved to the dancefloor at the behest of Natasha. She’s introducing you to someone whose name you don’t quite catch. She’s hot, sure, but you’re too confused and stressed to really listen. 

The more Yelena hung out with you, the more you were starting to question what it was, exactly, you were feeling about her. She’s Natasha’s sister, yes, and you’ve known her for years. Practically grew up with her. Her friendship was always a valued one, even if she was younger, but suddenly all of that is fogged up by this… great, big something she’s implanted in your brain. 

You want to scream. Or cry. Or forget yourself.

Yes, that last option is too appealing right now.

It’s easy for a while. You let the woman - Carol - dance with you provocatively, her hands gripping your waist in a way that, typically, you’d definitely enjoy. Even when you can feel her hard muscles moving against you, you can’t quite stay in the moment long enough. You keep picturing Yelena behind you, arms around you, hands moving from your waist to your sides. It feels good - you’re definitely turned on - but it’s not what you want and that’s all the more frustrating.

Carol, swaying her hips flush against yours, leans down until her lips brush against your ear. “Wanna come back to mine?”

You should. You should definitely go back to Carol’s.

But you can’t.

“I’m actually feeling a little, uh, lightheaded,” you separate from her, trying not to wince at the kicked puppydog expression on her face. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she recovers quickly, smiling. “Need a ride to your place?”

You shake your head, swallowing your agitation. “I’m fine. I could use the fresh air. Thank you, though.”

“Can I at least get your number?”

Because you feel guilty, and because you can feel Natasha eyeing you questioningly from a few feet away, you give Carol your number before slipping through the dancing bodies. Natasha catches you by the wrist before you go, raising an eyebrow in a silent question.

“Just nervous about school,” you lie smoothly. “I’ll see you at home?”

“I’m going to Wanda’s after, actually,” Natasha smiles fondly at the woman still rolling her hips in time with the music. “But I’ll see you at some point tomorrow?”

You nod, giving a polite wave to Wanda before finally escaping the club.

The night is blissfully cool on your overheated skin. You can’t believe how worked up you’d actually been. Maybe you should go back and take Carol up on her offer-

No, that wouldn’t be right. Carol is definitely into you, and she seems really sweet. You shouldn’t just fuck her because you can’t stop thinking about wanting to fuck your best friend’s sister.

Oof.

You don’t think you’ve actually finished that thought before.

God, I’m a horrible friend. You think bitterly, beginning the short walk back to your apartment.

Your mind isn’t any clearer by the time you get home, but you become very sober when you realize the lights are all on and the TV is making noise from the living room. Grabbing the baseball bat you keep by the door, you creep towards the living room on high alert.

“Do you really think a serial killer wouldn’t remove the only weapon you have by the front door while breaking in?” A familiar voice makes you go rigid. Of course. Of course that’s exactly how your night would go. Perfect. Fucking perf- “Are you just gonna stand there like an idiot or are you going to put the stupid bat down?”

You blush, setting the bat aside while muttering several expletives under your breath. Sure enough, Yelena has made herself perfectly at home on the couch. 

“It’s a Saturday night, don’t you have a life? How did you even get in?” You ask, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorway that leads from the front hall to the living room, the edge of the kitchen door tempting you to just hide until Yelena leaves.

“Well, I heard Natasha and Wanda were going out, so I figured you’d be home alone.” She shrugs. “And Nat gave me a key.” She dangles the object with a grin.

“What, you thought I wouldn’t go out to a club with them?” You shake your head with a scoff. “I’m not a total shut-in.”

“You totally are, but whatever.” She snorts, scooting over and patting the spot next to her. You eye her with blatant suspicion and she laughs. “What?”

“Nothing,” you mutter, reluctantly sitting beside her with a decent amount of cushion space between you. She’s watching some classic movie no doubt from Natasha’s collection that she keeps hidden in her room.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket. You pull it out, withering further into the guilty haze you’d left the club in.

Hey, it’s Carol :) If you change your mind, don’t hesitate to ask ;)

“Who’s that?” Yelena asks, peering at your phone.

You shove it back into your pocket with a scowl. “Nobody important.”

“Bullshit. You know you’re not a good liar.”

You glare at her, but it does nothing. She holds your gaze evenly, almost patiently. It makes you even angrier at her, at yourself, at the way your stupid body won’t fucking listen to reason. “Just a girl I met at the club tonight. She’s a little… eager to see me again.”

There’s a brief look of hurt on Yelena’s face, but it’s so brief you almost don't notice it. “Oh? What’s her name?”

“Carol.”

“Danvers?”

You shrug. “Maybe.”

She scoffs. “You can do better.”

“Yelena,” you begin warningly, disliking the abrupt change in atmosphere. 

“What? I’m being honest.”

“She seems… nice.”

“Just ‘nice’?”

“We didn’t exactly talk much.”

“Oh, so you were-”

“I wasn’t doing anything because I couldn’t stop thinking about you, actually.” You snap, unable to control yourself. You want to sound angry, but really you just sound tired. “Fucking Christ, Yelena. I can’t get you out of my head.”

Her expression brightens considerably at this. She moves closer, and you’re once again snared by those damn green eyes and that dumb cocky smirk that you’ve come to associate with Yelena. “Really?”

“We really, really shouldn’t do this.” You state, hoping you sound stronger than you actually feel.

“And why’s that?” She tilts her head, amused. “Because of my sister? She should give you her blessing. Who else would be better for me than someone she already approves of?”

You don’t like how reasonable she sounds when she’s breathing the same air as you, her eyes searching yours. 

“She’s going to kill me if-”

“If.”

There’s something magical about the word ‘if’. Maybe dancing with Carol had you more worked up than you’d thought. You wish you could blame it on the alcohol but with Yelena so close you’re achingly sober. Maybe there are no excuses for what happens next. 

Yelena’s lips find yours with absolute raw lust. Part of you hoped that just doing this, just kissing her, will satiate the longing for her that plagues your mind. (The rest of you knows better than to be stupid enough to believe that.)

Like with everything she does, Yelena kisses like she has something to prove. Maybe she does. You don’t care because it’s making your mind go completely blank and your body is buzzing with a million galaxies being born under her attention. You drink her in like a woman starved, drowning in her scent and her taste and the feeling of her hands curling into your hair and pulling you closer, closer, closer.

She’s on top of you, you aren’t sure how it happened. Her lips and her teeth and tongue are on your neck, finding places that pull quiet sounds from the back of your throat. You can feel her smirking against your skin, god- 

You are a horrible, horrible best friend.

(Why is it getting harder to care?)

You shove aside the guilt. You want this. You need this. 

“I’ve thought about how you’d feel like this for so long,” Yelena breathes against you. You’re positive she’s just left a wicked hickey. It makes you bite back a moan. “How you’d sound,” she continues, fingers dancing along the edges of your shirt, earning a quiet whimper. You let her pull it off of you, and she’s already unbuttoning your jeans. “How you’d taste,” she purrs, kissing down to your collarbone. She moves between your breasts, placing deliberate, wet, hot kisses wherever she pleases, more often than not leaving a dark red mark behind. When she eases your jeans off of your legs, she kisses your thighs and you’re so fucking desperate your hips twitch involuntarily.

Yelena laughs throatily, tossing aside the clothes with such smug pleasure it makes your teeth itch. “So sensitive,” she notes, almost carelessly tracing the edge of your bra. “Or are you just that desperate for me to fuck you?”

“God, Yelena,” you rasp. This is very much not the rambunctious freshman that ran after your mom’s shitty old sedan. Time has turned Yelena into the perfect weapon against you. Go figure. 

Where the fuck did your bra go?

Your fingers curl tightly in her hair when lips wrap around one of your nipples. Finding it harder to keep your noises at bay, a small whimper escapes you when teeth graze against the sensitive skin. Yelena hums against you, eyes flickering up to meet yours. She switches to your other breast, one of her hands slipping between your legs to rub against you through your panties. 

Her smirk is wider than ever when she pulls away from your breast. “Fucking soaked, just as I thought.”

“Shut up,” you huff.

In an instant, she has your hands pinned above your head. You stare up at her, dumbfounded. “How the hell did you get so strong?” You ask, unable to resist doing so.

She bites her lip, fighting a smile. “You should mind your manners. For being so rude, I’m going to make you beg for it.”

You gape at her. “What? You’re the one who said you wanted to- that you’ve been wanting to-”

“Yes,” she hums, leaning down so that she can place more marks on your neck. How the hell you’ll hide those monsters in the morning, you’ve got no idea. “But I like taking my time. You, however,” she snaps the waistband of your panties against your skin, earning a hiss of pain and pleasure. “You don’t seem like you’ll last very long.”

Yelena brings a lot out in you, apparently. You’ve never really considered yourself ‘bratty’ or anything before. But the idea of doing exactly what Yelena doesn’t want you to do is so goddamn tempting. Maybe because you know she’s going to make it very much worth it in the end. Yelena has always been one to keep promises.

“No.” 

Your answer takes her by surprise, certainly, but she recovers quickly. She looks delighted, even, when she leans back just enough to look you in the eye.

“No?” She repeats slowly. “You sure about that, malyshka?”

You nod, mouth incredibly dry.

Yelena growls under her breath, returning to her assault on your neck while her free hand starts to massage your already sensitive breasts. You suck in a sharp breath, decidedly holding back any noises you want to make. Yelena catches on fast to your ploy by the time she pushes a knee between your thighs to put just enough pressure against your core to make your body feel like it’s on fire.

“Oh, don’t hold back, milaya. I want to hear those pretty little noises you make,” Yelena croons, rolling her hips so that a delicious friction temporarily relieves the growing agony between your legs. You hiss out a curse, hands straining uselessly against the one Yelena uses to keep you firmly in place. “Aw, you want more?”

“I want you in less clothes,” you huff impatiently. 

“You haven’t earned that yet.” Yelena tuts, her free hand now dipping beneath your panties. She finds the pool of wetness waiting for her there and hums lowly. A keening sound that doesn’t resemble any sort of sound you’ve ever made before escapes you, unbidden. “All you have to do is ask nicely, malyshka,” she drawls, “and I’ll make you feel so good.”

With another roll of her hips, Yelena has your resolve reduced to ashes.

“Please,” you whine. “Please, Yelena.”

“Please what?” 

You try not to roll your eyes. “Please fuck me. I need you to fuck me, I want you to make me-” you’re cut off by a long, deep moan that escapes you very unexpectedly when Yelena’s fingers plunge into you without warning. A new look of victory crosses Yelena’s face, lips quirking up into a grin as she watches you with rapt attention, taking note of what makes you break your internal vow of silence.

When she adds a thumb to your clit, you’re incoherently begging for more.

“More?” Yelena taunts. “Greedy thing, aren’t you?”

“Please, please, more,” you rasp. Pathetic. 

“Mm, I love hearing you ask so nicely,” Yelena praises. You’re trembling beneath her touch, now. “Beg me again. One more time malyshka.”

“Please, Yelena,” you meet her eyes desperately. “Please, I need more.”

“Okay, alright,” Yelena hums her low laugh into your skin, lowering herself until she’s between your legs. “You can have more, dorogoy. You can have everything you want if you keep being good for me.” You’ll do anything she fucking asks if she keeps-

With your hands freed, nothing stops you from grasping at Yelena’s t-shirt while a long, wonton moan rips itself from your throat. Yelena is eating you out like she was born to do it. It’s amazing how quickly she’s learned to make you fall apart - or maybe you’ve really just been anticipating this enough to make it feel that way - but it isn’t long before you’re reduced to mindless, senseless noises that could be full sentences but you aren’t sure.

Yelena hums when one of your hands grips her hair, hips trying hard to move against her. She uses the hand not currently pounding into you to hold your hips down, not allowing them to budge even an inch as she drives you closer and closer to the edge. When her fingers curl and press against a spot inside of you that makes you see stars, your orgasm hits you without warning.

The blonde is relentless. She doesn’t slow down, just focuses harder on fucking you deep, deep, deep until another climax ripples through you. She waits until you’re a sweating, trembling mess before finally slowing down enough for you to catch your breath.

Yelena places several kisses along your body while she returns to your lips, and this kiss is different from the others. Softer, less rushed. You dare even say it’s passionate. You return the kiss lazily, body limp between aftershocks of pleasure while Yelena slowly withdraws her fingers.

She only pulls back from the kiss to pop her fingers in her mouth, sucking on them obscenely before kissing you again and letting you taste yourself on her tongue. Fuck. Your hands move to her waist, pulling her flush against you. 

This time when she pulls away, Yelena is smiling. Not the smug, cocky smile that you’d been expecting. It’s a real one, a bright one that reminds you sharply of the little girl you grew up with. If you had any doubts before that she’s wanted this for a long time, they’re gone in an instant when you see the joy in her eyes.

Instead of letting the guilt take hold, you press a soft kiss to her lips and smile lazily at her. “I want to make you feel good, too.”

Her eyes search your face, like she can’t really believe that you’re requesting this, but she nods and starts working on her vest - the vest you’d bought for her, you realize with a shocking amount of satisfaction - and shirt. 

With every inch of skin newly exposed, you run your fingers along it or skim kisses in spots that make Yelena inhale sharply. She’s not as vocal as you are, but her hums of encouragement are damn hot so you’re not complaining. She seems very content to be on top of you, apparently, and that’s just fine. Once her pants and panties are off, you reach down between her legs while placing kisses along her neck and shoulder.

You both let out quiet moans when you find the wetness waiting for you there. You wish you could feel more smug about it, but honestly you’re just eager to make her feel something for the way she’s worked you up this week.

You make small, teasing circles against her clit, feeling her hips move in time with the motions. Your kisses move to her jaw, and when her mouth meets yours you slip your fingers inside of Yelena and swallow the resulting groan.

She rides your fingers with reckless abandon. She keeps placing purposeful kisses to your neck, your shoulder, your jaw, collarbone - Yelena is intent on making sure you don’t forget the occasion. When you add a third finger and curl your hand so that she can rub her clit against the heel of your palm, Yelena bites down hard. Without even being touched, you suddenly find yourself dangerously close to having another orgasm; a broken, strangled whine slipping free.

Yelena moans, her breath hot on your ear. She moves until her thigh is pressing against you again, her hips rolling freely against the fingers inside of her. It causes just enough friction to make you clumsy in your thrusts, brain and body fighting for control.

“Come with me,” Yelena murmurs, and just like that, you’re both teetering over the edge together. Your body has officially turned into a twitching, useless mass of limbs. Your breath lingers with Yelena’s as she quakes with aftershocks of her own climax, and when you’re able to breathe again she connects your lips.

It’s lazy, it’s messy. Your hands rest on Yelena’s waist now, the blonde’s body resting on top of yours while her arms rest on either side of you. You’re incredibly tired - and a little bit thirsty, but you’re way too comfortable to move right now. Yelena is warm, and it feels nice having her this close. 

When she ends the kiss, she places another quick peck to your lips before resting her forehead against yours. You already feel guilty, but there’s just too much coziness in the afterglow of this moment. Yelena’s eyes are searching yours for something, her smile tender.

“I really have wanted this. For a while.” She says quietly.

“I know.” You move one hand up to tuck her hair behind her ear. 

“I missed you.” She leans into your touch, never breaking your gaze.

“I know,” you repeat, kissing her gently. “I missed you, too.”

Guilt be damned, Yelena’s smile is worth it.

~ part 2 ~

- Gen. Tag List -

(To be tagged, just let me know + Specify if you’d lke to be tagged for a series, a character, or all of my works)

@nobody13 @fireflyglass @swords-are-cool @artapdarkstr @pasta-bandit @multi-images @women-am-i-right

#to explain my absence i will summarize the summer as such: #i was being a hoe sorry #like i needed that idk what to say #ur girl just needed 2 eat out for a few months LSKDJFLASKDJF #anyway im back and im gayer #yelena belova x reader #yelena x reader #yelena x fem!reader #yelena belova imagine #yelena imagine #nobody13 #fireflyglass #swords-are-cool #artapdarkstr #pasta-bandit #multi-images #women-am-i-right

[ragingbookdragon]

I'm Only A Crack In This Castle Of Glass (Hardly Anything Else I Need To Be) PT. 5

Batfamily x Batsis Story!

Word Count: 2.5K Warnings: Explicit Language, ALL THE ANGST. AND MORE TO COME! Tags!: @itsnottilly @cloudyskylines @starflyer-104 @iwillstaywiththemforever @justine-en @weirdgirlfromtx @notsostraightweeb @candlestudy @edlothia-baby @soul-end @willieoo @willowoo @peterxwade24 @the-atlantic-french-fry @bad-bouquet-of-emotions @vvipgot7be @pure-princess-97 @atomicsoulhumanspy

Author's Note: I have nothing to say for any of the emotions y'all are about to get from this. Enjoy!-Thorne

She wasn’t sure what she expected when she sat down, but the stretching silence growing between her and her estranged family wasn’t it. She tried to look anywhere but them, not because she was ashamed—far from it. But it was more than awkward sitting across from three brothers and a father she’d not spoken to in three years, let alone tell them she was even alive.

Her eyes found Wally’s as he sat down beside her eldest brother and if looks could’ve killed, he’d been dead and buried.

“Glare at me all you want, but I’m not going to apologize,” he shrugged.

Scowling, she turned her attention to the skyline. “Fuck you,” she spat, crossing her arms.

“At least talk to them, (Y/N).”

“And why should I, Wally?” she questioned, glaring at him. “I don’t have anything to say. If I did, I wouldn’t be here in Central.”

“You’re not leaving until you talk to them,” he finalized with a firm look and she growled low in her throat and resigned herself to her fate.

Her eyes darted to her father’s and she couldn’t for the life of her decipher what was in them. “I’ll talk for an hour,” she told him. “I’m not talking about what I’ve been doing in Central City, so don’t ask. I’m not talking about the life I’ve been living, so don’t ask. You’re only allowed to ask me about my departure and that’s it. But after one hour is up, I’m leaving.”

“Who said you get to leave,” Wally questioned, and she shot him the darkest glower she could muster.

“So help me God, Wally West you’ll either take me home or you’ll fix that fucking elevator and I’ll walk myself home. Because if you don’t, I’ll tell the world who every vigilante is at this table.”

For once she managed to stump him because his eyes went wide—so did her family’s but she didn’t care—and he finally nodded.

“Alright. One hour.”

Seemingly satisfied with his answer, she turned back to her family, more specifically her father. “Why are you here? What do you want from me?”

“Maybe for you to come home, (Y/N),” Jason answered, and she glanced to him.

“Not a chance. Next?”

“(Y/N), you don’t have to be hostile. We’re not going to force you here,” Dick said, and she looked at him now, eyes narrowing.

“The manipulation tactic isn’t going to work on me, Dick. I’m not here for to be tricked into coming back. I’m never coming back.” She cocked her leg over the side of the table and reclined, biting out, “Give me your anger. I’d prefer that instead of whatever this pitiful bullshit you’ve got going on.”

In the eighteen years they’d known their sister they’d never heard her say such a callous thing, but her words had practically slapped Dick across the face because hurt etched onto his expression, then immediately turned into anger.

“You want my anger? Fine.” He stood and pointed at her. “What the hell is wrong with you! Why would just up and disappear like you did! Do you have any idea how scared we were for you! How distraught!”

(Y/N) blinked at him. “Knowing how you like to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders because you can’t help but be a hero? Probably a lot.” She made a dramatic show of looking at her watch. “You’ve got forty minutes. Keep it up.”

Her eyes shifted to Bruce’s. “Did you let them read the letter? Or did you just throw it away after you read it?”

Dick, Jason, and Tim all turned to Bruce at that.

“Letter?” Tim repeated. “What letter?”

(Y/N)’s mouth made an ‘o’ shape and then she smiled knowingly. “Oh, you never showed them the letter, did you?” She looked to her brothers. “I wrote dad a letter the night I left to explain why I was leaving. It’s sugarcoated bullshit but it is the truth.”

Dick’s face contorted in anger. “(Y/N) left a reason behind and you didn’t tell us about it? Three years and not a single word?”

Bruce merely stared at her as he pulled the letter out of his coat pocket. “I was going to burn it when I found her again. Talk to her before anyone else could.”

Jason snatched the letter from his hands. It had faded a bit, softened around the hard edges, like someone had opened it and read it every day for three years.

His eyes scanned the paper, and he met her gaze, voice chock-full of hurt and she had to fight tooth and nail to keep herself from externally reacting. “You left because you thought we didn’t care about you?”

Dick reached over and took the letter. With furrowed brows and a frown, he started to read aloud, and Bruce gazed at (Y/N) as the memory came back to him.

***

Mornings at the manor were unusually quiet in comparison with the evenings. Everyone was typically too tired to argue so it accounted for a peaceful breakfast of soft words and chewing. Everyone had an assigned seat and every child had learned early on not to take the seat that belonged to another brother or their sister because there would be a fight about it.

Dick and Jason sat next to each other and (Y/N) took the seat at the end of that side; Tim and Damian took the other side—oldest to youngest, just the neat and even way Bruce liked it.

It was rare for any of the boys to be awake before him or Alfred and (Y/N) was usually the first kid to the table, the boys wandering in just minutes after her. Oddly enough, that morning she hadn’t come down for breakfast—which she always came to.

Bruce looked at Alfred. “Is (Y/N) coming down?”

Alfred hummed and gently maneuvered Tim’s arm to the side to he could set down the plate. “When I went to her door, it was locked, and I received no conversation from inside.”

Jason snorted and sipped his coffee. “Probably had a long night with her friends and is still out. I know I would be.”

“How would you know?” Tim interrupted. “You died before you got to the eleventh grade.”

“You’re one to talk, dropout,” Dick countered, and Damian sighed.

“Richard, you dropped out of college. The only son of Batman who has actually completed an entire bout of schooling is me.”

The three boys turned on him with scowls and retorted, “No one asked you, pipsqueak.” Damian glared back at them.

Bruce rolled his eyes, using the side of his fork to cut into his omelet. “Let’s try not to start a free-for-all here in the breakfast room, please.” He glanced at Alfred. “She’s probably tired from all the ceremonies. Let her sleep.”

Alfred nodded. “Of course, Master Bruce. She should be well rested this evening.”

But when the evening came, Alfred still hadn’t been able to get (Y/N) to unlock her bedroom nor speak to him. He certainly wasn’t worried, but it was off for her to be so reclusive. When Bruce and the boys came back from patrol, he mentioned it to him.

“Miss (Y/N) hasn’t come out from her bedroom, Master Bruce. Nor has she said a single word all day.”

Bruce’s brows furrowed and he tugged the cowl off, rising from the seat at the Batcomputer. “I’ll go check on her,” he replied. “You deal with…” his steel eyes drifted to Dick who had Tim in a headlock and Jason who was giving Damian a noogie. “Them,” he finalized, leaving the poor butler behind.

He knocked on the door to her room and pressed his ear to it. “(Y/N)? You haven’t come out all day. Is everything alright?”

Nothing. Not even a breath.

“(Y/N), are you in there?” he asked again and when he didn’t receive a confirmation, he raised his arm, running his fingers along the doorframe until he touched a small metal piece. He pulled it down and stuck it in the door, wiggling the knob for a second before it clicked, and he opened the door.

“Sweetheart, we’ve been trying to—” Bruce went silent when he saw the kempt room. Bed neatly made, everything organized and put away. Even her clothes hamper was empty.

He blinked and walked into the room, quickly heading to the bathroom to check for her there. It was empty as well, and just as clean, leaving him stunned as he exited the bath.

Wandering over to her desk, he saw an elegant envelope sitting on top of her laptop, his name written in beautiful penmanship. He picked it up and unfolded it, pulling out the multi-page letter. He drew his eyes along the golden lines, reading her words.

Dad,

I don’t really know how to start this letter. Truth be told I’ve written at least six before this one, and even then, I’m not entirely happy with it. But if you’re reading this, I’m not here anymore. I haven’t hurt myself in anyway, you don’t need to worry about Vicki Vale or Jack Ryder reporting the discovery of my body. I mean it in a literal sense—I’m not in Gotham anymore. Neither am I ever coming back.

Don’t think this is your fault. You’re a good father, the best I could’ve been given, and my brothers are good siblings. But the truth is that I’m not fit for this family of heroes. And I never have been. My best when trying to be what all of you are, was never good enough and I’ve spent eighteen years staring at your backs, waiting for you all to realize that I’m still here, that I still matter even if I’m not like you. And I don’t want to feel like a stranger in my own home any longer.

I don’t want you to look for me. I know you will, but I wish you wouldn’t. This isn’t some spur of the moment thing I decided to do the night after graduation. If you look at my bank records, I’ve been withdrawing cash from my savings since freshman year—this is four years of planning, so please understand that I’m doing this because I don’t want to be found—ever.

I’ll leave the story for the media up for you, though I doubt that they’ll care long enough to make a deal of it. It’ll pass like winter does spring and they’ll move on to the next bigger story.

Thank you for everything dad, and good luck with Gotham—keep it safe like you always have. And I hope that one day when you think of me, you won’t feel disappointment. I’ve only ever tried to be something that when you looked down on me, you’d only be proud, and I hope one day I’ll achieve what I always dreamed about. Eighteen is young to be on your own and I’m scared. But I’ll be okay—I always have been.

So do me a favor and don’t spend too much time over this. There are plenty more younger kids that need a parent’s hand on their backs to steady them like you once did for me. Find one and fill my spot. Let them shine brighter than I ever could. Let them be the one worthy to be a Wayne—I know I never was.

-(Y/N)

Bruce barely had time to grasp the back of her chair to keep himself from falling to his knees in shock. The letter was clenched in his hand and his lungs wouldn’t take in air like he wanted them to, his heart aching with each palpitation. He looked around the room to her dresser drawers, willing the strength into his legs to moved over to it. He opened every drawer and to his astonishment, they were empty. Hurrying to the bathroom, he noticed the drawers in there were empty as well. She was really gone. And he had no idea what to do.

***

Tears were in Dick’s eyes when he finished the letter and he looked up at her. “How could you ever think we didn’t care about you, (Y/N)?”

She didn’t want to have this conversation. She didn’t want to sit there and explain every time she asked her brothers if they wanted to do something with her and they conveniently had something else to do. Didn’t want to explain every school and extracurricular performance that went unattended and left a little girl standing in front of a crowd barely managing to stave off the tears as she bowed and thanked them for coming. She didn’t want to remember all the memories that chipped away at her heart with every disappointment that occurred. All she wanted to do was leave.

(Y/N) had earlier returned to her original position, hands in her lap and she clenched her fists until her nails bit into the skin of her palms, eyes directed anywhere but Dick’s.

“I think it’s time we call this little reunion done,” she said, standing to her feet. “We’re not going to get anywhere.”

“Not if you run again,” Jason muttered, unconsciously wiping a tear from his eye.

She pointed at him, hissing, “I didn’t run the first time, Jason. I left. On my own accord.”

“You ran instead of coming to us, (Y/N),” Tim said, and she threw her hands above her head in disbelief.

“What the fuck did you want me to do! Wander down into the cave and beg at your feet for someone to pay attention to me! To at least pretend like I was a sister! I did! Every day!”

(Y/N) picked up her purse and yanked it up her arm. “Cassandra seems to be fitting in better than I did. So go and dote on her as the younger sibling. I’m not interested in the position anymore.”

“It’s not a competition,” Dick explained. “We love you just as much as we love Cass.”

She paused and gazed at him, voice laced with disappointment as she disagreed, “Then you should make sure she’s content in the manor, because if you love her with any semblance of how you loved me? It’s not at all.”

Her eyes shifted to Wally’s. “Fix the elevator. Now.”

He stayed seated for a moment, the two of them staring each other down, then he nodded wordlessly and moved to the elevator, starting it again. Her family stayed seated, and she gave them one final look before she followed Wally, silently waiting for the doors to open.

When they did, she stepped inside and turned around, hitting the button. Just before the doors closed, Wally stopped them and murmured, “You’re making a mistake.”

“My worst mistake was becoming friends with you.” (Y/N) blinked at him, then reached up and shoved his hand away from the door and as it closed, she remarked coldly, “And you can go to hell for all I care.”

#batfamily x reader #batfamily x reader imagines #batfamily x reader imagine #batfamily imagines #batfamily imagine #batfamily #batsis x batfam #batsis x batfamily imagines #batsis x batfamily imagine #batsis imagines #batsis imagine #batsis #bruce wayne #batman #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #damian wayne #robin #dc comics #dc imagines #dc imagine #dc

[youryanderedaddy]

Love Fuel

Summary: You were Jason’s first love before you broke his heart and rejected him. It’s all your fault that he can’t move on.

Tw: female reader, obsessive behavior, incel behavior, nice guy behavior, self - hatred, threats of non-con, implied non - con, implied masturbation, bullying based on appearance (not reader), deregatory language, kidnapping, misogyny, generalizations, stalking

this is a hot mess but its 1 am and i am tired, ik that incels are bad irl (obviously), but this is fiction and I kinda wanted to explore the dynamic and shit. 

Everyone used to call him JJ or The-Big-Jay back in high school. Well, most of the time his classmates weren’t really calling out to him or even talking to him, the names were whispered behind his back, after he had just passed the hallway, or on bad days - right to his face. The jocks, these dumb motherfuckers, would beat him up, mock him for whatever stupid reasons they had chosen to use as an excuse to torment the smaller and weaker. The popular girls would giggle like brainless bimbos as Kyle or Brad or any other football player stole his glasses or continuously punched him in the guts until he threw up all over the floor. Even the nerds, the kids at the bottom of the school hierarchy, messed with Jason from time to time when they wanted to feel the oh - so desired rush of power they so rarely managed to experience. 

Looking back, Jason could see why his classmates hated him so much - he was everything that society deemed as wrong and unattractive. He was thin, pale, “scrawny” as the others called him, on the shorter side, and on top of that the teen was terribly shy and introverted, never having the guts to stand up to his bullies or even tell someone about the abuse. The male spent most of his free time at home, playing hours upon hours of video games, watching anime and reading books he was simply too young to understand or look critically at. As he grew older, the man began to view the world as it trully was - a dark, miserable place that ate up sore losers like him. Men were primitive and foolish, which somehow managed to soften their faults. Women, on the other hand, were  calculative and manipulative, greedy and sinful. His whole life they had done nothing but reject him when he needed love and support the most. Of course, there were many other reason why the brunette detested the weaker sex. In his eyes women were evil two - faced sluts, showing off their bodies yet acting innocent and hurt once someone finally decided to use them for the only thing they were actually good for.

But you Jason hated the most. You reminded him that no matter how much he hated the outside world, he would always hate himself the most. He had to admit you were pretty, painfully so, with a perfect little body to match your looks and a sweet sugary smile that almost deceived him years ago. As much as the man regretted his weakness, he had fallen right into your trap at the time.

You weren’t the most popular girl, but you had your fair share of friends, all nice and loyal like puppies. You weren’t the smartest either, but unlike the other stupid giggling sluts you always tried to do your best. You were beautiful just like them but you were actually kind to the pathetic bullied kid no one else bothered to acknowledge even existed outside of being a punching bag. You always asked him whether he was alright and often took him to the infirmary when he looked paler and sicker than usual. You talked to him as if he was a normal human being and despite the initial doubt, Jason appreciated it. 

It was the last day of your senior year when the teen finally gained the courage to confess. He was shaking the whole time and by the end of his little speech there were small tears in the corner of his eye. You were the first girl the male cared about, the first one to show him kindness, to offer him friendship without asking for something in return. You were the only one who could make him feel deserving of love, worthy of affection. And then you took it all away in a matter of seconds.

“I am sorry, bud.” You had said that day after giving him a  half - hearted hug and an apologetic smile, that started to seem more and more like a mocking grin the longer the teen started at you. “I already have a boyfriend, but I am really flattered. I am sure that you will find a lovely girl once you start college.” You had added quickly, cheerfully, rubbing the salt all over his wounds, honey dripping from your plump red lips. He had wanted to kiss them, bruise them, bite them until your stupid lying mouth was filled with blood. Obviously you didn’t have a boyfriend or he would have known by now, he stalked your social media religiously after all. Even if you had one, he probably treated you like shit. And how could you even suggest him finding another woman? As if he wanted any of the stupid money - grabbing sluts out there. As if some of them could replace you.

The boy was too furious to form a proper response besides “Fuck you, bitch”. His cheeks turned red and he didn’t realise that the bitter words had escaped his lips before he could stop them, then his legs took him far away from that shithole of a school. He didn’t manage to see your reaction before running away but it didn’t matter anymore. You were just like the others. 

***

That day Jason swore to show you just how small and insignificant you had made him feel. He wanted to see you crumble, cry and beg for forgiveness, desperate for his love but never good enough to get it. The man formed a plan to change himself and come back for you once he had erased each and every trace of his past. The brunette came to terms with his terrible social anxiety and decided that he needed to gain social abilities more than anything. That’s why, as much as he dreamt of working from home as a boring programmer with an even more boring, but flexible working schelude, the male chose to study something that involved a lot more human interactions. The next step was to hit the gym for the first time and get a monthly subscription. It wasn’t hard to see that females nowadays liked brain - dead athletes with defined jawline and cheekbones, toned chests and strong muscled bodies, so if he wanted to impress you, he had to look his best. It wasn’t easy at first - it felt like everyone in the fitness salon had their eyes on his weak frame, laughing and pointing their fingers at his imperfections, but things gradually got better as time went on. The trainings became easier to get through and from time to time they even helped the man forget about his loneliness and nihilism. 

Jason soon returned to his old habbit of spending hours looking through your accounts - Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, he knew all of your usernames, each post, every picture and text. He couldn’t believe how much of a desperate attention whore you had become over the years. The male remembered you in your long brown skirts, cozy sweatshirts and pure-white shirts, all the gray buttons closed to the very top, blushing, laughing, smiling like the adorable Goody-two-shoes you were. Now you were smirking seductively in every photo, overconfident and vibrant, flaunting your tits for every man to see and wearing tight little dresses that barelly covered your ass combined with heels so high and sharp they could be used as a weapon. You were such a stupid slut it was disgusting, and he couldn’t stop himself from jerking off every single time he saw your pretty little face on the screen. He wanted to cum down your throat so badly it was ridiculous, and even after knowing that you had probably already had hundreds of cocks shoved deep inside your pussy, the brunette still wished to see you split open on his, taking his lenght like a good little cocksleeve. 

***

The moment when he could see you again finally came. How many years had passed since graduation - five, ten, fifthteen? It hardly mattered. Jason was successful, at last. The male had his own business that was doing surprisingly well, there were some guys from the gym he could call friends and the best thing, he looked absolutely unrecognizable. There was nothing left of the tiny scrawny kid with quiet voice that everyone stepped over, he was now replaced by a strong capable man, determined to get what was rightfully his and his alone.

It wasn’t hard to find you since the brunette knew everything about you - where your job was, what time you finished, how long it took you to go home and what path you took. You lived alone and worked as a barista in a small local cafe even now that you had finished your studies in your dream faculty. Turns out the princess wasn’t so great and smart after all, having to resort to working a minimal - wage job day and night just to be able to pay her rent. Jason was absolutely delighted though, he loved your stupid dead - end job and your endless struggles to survive in the materialistic world honestly and fairly without selling yourself like a common whore. On one hand the male was happy that you had clung onto your last bit of innocence and on the other your pitiful lifestyle gave him the chance to snatch you away much easier. And that’s exactly what he did.

 ***

You woke up confused just like he had expected, bombarding him with questions, asking him who he was was, begging him to let you go, to at least explain what’s happening. You were so dumb, but God, you were still so pretty, if not prettier than before. You cried so beautifully when Jason told you you belonged to him now and you cried even more when he slammed his cold rough lips over yours in a deep wet kiss. You whimpered and whined while the male sucked on your lower lip and bit down, good, he wanted it to hurt. The stalker couldn’t wait to be inside you, he couldn’t hold back anymore. 

He climbed on top of you and pinned your wrists to the floor before tying them up with delicate red rope and tightening it. It wasn’t like the man was scared of you slipping away and hurting him, you were too weak and tiny to stand a chance against his years of power - lifting and muscle - training anyways, he just wanted you to be as uncomfortable and squirmish as possible. Your tormentor wished for you to be in worse pain than he had been during his youthful years, and he knew exactly what to do. Next thing you knew Jason had ripped your dress apart, leaving you vulnerable and exposed in just your plain old panties and bra. Cold shivers ran down your spine when the chilly air hit your naked flesh and you finally realized there wasn’t getting away from this. You had to stay there, limbs bound together, unable to move or fight back, the stranger’s hands caressing your neck before moving dangerously close to your clothed breasts. You felt so sick you were going to throw up for sure if your abductor didn’t step back so you decided to use your last resort.

“Jason, please stop!” You screamed out of the blue, forcing the brunette to freeze instantly at the use of his birth name. You had already called him a pervert and a psycho which didn’t seem to faze him, but the name clearly caught him off guard. This only seemed to prove your theory further - the man really was your former classmate, despite the only similarity between them being the dark distant look in his eyes. “I beg you, don’t hurt me!” You continued, hoping to at least buy yourself more time before the assault took place. 

He gulped loudly and stared at your quivering form. The impossible had happened, you had recognized him and now together with fear, there was also pity in your gaze, the one emotion your captor absolutely despised. You used to be the only one who pitied him, and even now that he was bigger, better and stronger than before, you still had the guts to pity him. It drove him insane but any attempt to hurt or touch you was fruitless now - your soft skin was suddenly burning his fingers like hellfire. 

“You must be thinking that I am a monster.” Jason started out dryly, chuckling bitterly, humorlessly even. He clenched his fists unconsciously and brought them to the floor in a fit of rage, missing your head by mere inches. Your heart was beating like crazy and you only hoped the mandman couldn’t hear it. “A freak.” The man spat out the word like it was a curse and for a split second his eyes softened before turning into two spinning torches. “Right?” You were sure that if looks could kill, his would have you dead by the end of the night so you quickly nodded your head no.

“You are lying to me again, pretty girl.” The brunette replied feisty, "pretty” rolling off his tongue like an insult. Then he broke into hoarse maniac laugher and lowered his head so his face leveled up with yours, so close you could feel his warm breath on your tear - stained cheek. “When I am done with you, you wouldn’t be so pretty anymore, darling.” Your captor growled and attacked your neck, sinking his teeth deep into the flesh. “You will see exaclty how ugly my love is.”

#yandere #yandere oneshot #male yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere oc #yancore #yandere male x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere smut #yandere x you

[stxleslyds]

Cool reading, its always interesting to go back and re-examine works. Though I wonder with Mia how much of Bruce's explanation is real and how much is just Bruce making assumptions like how he initially thought Jason was angry for not saving him in UTRH. It would make sense for Bruce to assume the worst. I got the sense Jason was more genuine with Mia but the thing I like about Jason is often his reasons are both deadly practical and emotionally caring.

Hey Anon! Yeah, I didn't go into much depth with the Green Arrow issues because I was answering your post at a very early hour after I had a lovely anxiety attack.

I mentioned the post and I didn't link it because I was working with what I remembered the most and the Lost Days trade that I had at hand (love that book!)

The post in which I talked about Green Arrow #72 was an ask that had a completely different question but now that I found it I will link it below but I will also copy my thoughts on that issue.

The ask had a trigger warning for sexual assault, child abuse and rape. I will link it here!

And here I will leave what I had to say about Green Arrow #72 and Jason and Mia's encounter.

Judd Winick is clever I will always say that, and while I do see why people think that Jason is making the “child abuse idea” canon I still think that the way that he talks is still fairly ambiguous if not just him playing mind games with Mia.

I know it sounds wrong, but hear me out, Winick, in this arc makes Batman say that Jason distracted him and Oliver just to take Mia as a “hostage” because that was Jason’s way to mess with him. This arc happens right after UtRH and Jason is a bit more unhinged than ever. But he doesn’t harm Mia, he just talks to her, he tries to make her see why he acts the way he does and to do that he talks about how much he sees of himself in her. Do I believe that Jason suffered the same things Mia did? No. Do I think that their past is similar? Yes.

But Jason doesn’t only use the fact that they have similar pasts to make Mia rebel against her “no killing ways” and Oliver like he did with Bruce, but he also brings up the fact that their past is incredibly different to the lives of Bruce and Oliver, and that those differences are of importance.

Maybe it’s just me, but I didn’t see Jason bringing Mia’s past for anything other than manipulating her and kinda make her see Oliver in a negative light the way that he does Batman and Bruce. Jason was at a point in his life where all he wanted to do was deliver the same pain that he had gone through but he didn’t do it by physically harming anyone (Mia was left unscratched), he was just out there trying to play mind games so he could break more havoc in Batman’s name.

Mia’s past is just way too different to whatever we have seen in canon from Jason’s past. Maybe I am wrong, after all, I only read about Mia in that arc.

-

To make my thoughts clearer, I have always thought that Jason's behaviour back in the day and in that particular issues were ambiguous, he was an extremely smart guy that was always one step ahead, he had plans for his plans so everything that he said (or didn't) always hid something, everything he did was calculated.

He was a liar too, and I don't mean it in a bad way. He just used his ability to lie and manipulate every time he could because what mattered most to him was his task.

He was a "the means justify the ends" kinda guy and he was excellent at it.

But once again, there is the subject of perspective, which is why reading comics is so fun! Each of us might understand different things from the same action, so this is just my thoughts on it, but you could be right too, it all depends on how we see things, Judd Winick wrote most of his Jason Todd in a way that it left a path but there are many things that we can fill in too.

#jason todd #red hood #asksss

[imonthinice]

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 22/?

Word Count: 1.8k

Author's Note: Y/N - Your name, A/N - Any name (Your best friend's name)

We're back, we're in full swing, we've hit like 50 followers, we've hit 500 notes. We're thriving.

Also! Fun fact but I can't actually watch Young Justice season 3 (and 4) or Titans :/ They're on DC Universe, which is only available in America. (If you can't catch on, I'm not from America lol)

Warnings: Swearing, Description of Injury, Kidnapping, Police/ Justice System, Manipulation attempts, Gaslighting, Violence, No beta bitch we die like Jason Todd.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20) (Part 21) (Part 22)

The days became longer and kept bothering Y/N. She was losing grip on reality. Aria would come in occasionally and feed her. Give her water. Let her use the bathroom. She was stuck. She wanted to knock off that stupid fucking bird plague doctor mask and, look her pathetic sister in her eyes. And let Aria know that she knew, she knew who it was.

But she was backed into a corner. And the mask was not going to come off anytime. Boy, oh boy, she wanted it to fall. She wanted it to slip so she could boot it into the walls she had become accustomed to. She wanted it to fall and shatter.

Aria came into the room like normal, to be greeted by Y/N not even looking her in the eyes.

"Come here, love," Aria said.

"Go to Hell."

"I need to use you for a "Proof of Life" video. So I can use you for ransom. Come here."

"No."

"Come here. Now," Aria said, voice getting more hoarse and pissed off with Y/N and her actions.

"No."

"Come. Here. Now!" She screeched.

"No!"

She felt Aria's claws grab her wrists and dig in, she could feel the blood seeping through the claws from her wrists. Aria pushed her into the wall, still gripping her wrists and letting the blood flow down Y/N's arms.

"Listen here, you fucking bitch," Aria said, dropping her voice a few octaves, to seem intimidating. "I want that money. If you don't cooperate, I'll kill you."

Y/N whimpered but spat at her sister, "You'll fucking die trying."

Aria wrestled Y/N into her seat and handcuffed her to it. She then set up the video camera.

"And, recording. Talk."

"I fucking hate you."

"You should."

"Go to fucking Hell."

"The date is February 14th. Here," she shoved a newspaper into the view of the camera, Y/N didn't even notice Aria bring it in. She saw the article on the back of her kidnapping. She knew people were still talking.

"Here is the date. On a newspaper. This video will be released today. If I don't get the money within a week, I'll kill her. Along with the Waynes."

Y/N gulped. This just got so much more real than she was expecting.

Aria left the room, with Y/N still handcuffed to the chair. She took in the room she had become used to. She had spent a week in captivity, expecting the vigilantes of Gotham to come and get them, but they didn't. She was confused as to why-

Wait a damn minute, she thought. Are you- Wait- Wait- Wait- Wait. Oh my god? The family is in captivity, the vigilantes haven't come for us yet, are- she paused. Are they the vigilantes? There's no way, they can't be- Can they? They can- Can't they, huh? Fuck. We're- We're not getting out anytime soon. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

This is a God damn pickle we've gotten into. Aria must know what I think, the family- she paused, almost as if she didn't believe what she was thinking. That they're the Gotham vigilantes. She must- Fuck!

I don't care that they didn't tell me- she thought like someone could read her thoughts. She figured that someone might be able to. She knew that Martian Manhunter had those abilities. she figured that Miss Martian, who she didn't see often, likely shared those abilities.

I care that we might be fucked.

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

Before she knew it, that exact day, she figured, February 14th? The door was broken down by Superman. This just put the pieces together more for Y/N. Her assumptions about the Waynes being the Gotham vigilantes were just seeming more likely as time went on.

Superman uncuffed her and she thanked him before running out to where Aria was being arrested by the Gotham police. But she didn't stop, and she knocked off Aria's mask.

"Oh, hi Y/N," Aria said, nonchalantly.

"Oh, hi Y/N," Y/N mocked. "You fucking bitch!" she yelled and pushed Aria, while the police tried to detain her. She struggled and tried to attack Aria further, "Let go! I know her power of attorney is going to be her sister-"

"How do you know that?" Commissioner Gordon asked.

"Because her sister is me!" She yelled when she finally broke away from the police, trying to get closer to Aria, before Commissioner Gordon stopped her, grabbing her arms and squeezing lightly. She stared at him, dead-faced. No emotions were there, other than anger, raw, seething anger.

Aria laughed, "Oops. I guess the jig is up."

Y/N was seething, she didn't even notice the JLA and the rest of the Waynes were behind her. She was still struggling to get towards Aria, yelling and just making noise.

She was making a scene, but she didn't care. She felt betrayed.

"You fucking bitch. You absolutely pathetic piece of shit."

"Keep yelling at me, Y/N. Mom and Dad will be disappointed in you. They always are, aren't they?"

Y/N turned to Commissioner Gordon, who was still holding her in place, "You either get her out of my fucking face in 5 seconds or I'm going to hurt her. That's not a threat," she turned to Aria, "That's a fucking promise."

"We might have to detain you at this rate, Y/N."

"And I would understand that, but I'm going to hurt her."

"Ma'am, calm down." Commissioner Gordon said before waving his hand and the other police took Aria into the back of a police car. "I'm going to have to arrest you," he said, trying to show sympathy for the pain that Y/N was in.

"Then do it already," Y/N mumbled, eyes still locked on the police car her sister was in.

"Gordon?" Jason called, "I swear, I've never seen this much anger in her. I'm sure you can send her home with us."

"You better be right about that, Jason."

"I really think I am right."

Gordon looked at Y/N, which she caught in the corner of her eye. She could tell he was upset about this, he was trying to get to her, to get her to understand her anger was okay, but beating her sister wasn't.

And then Aria waved as they drove her to the station.

But she wasn't even paying attention and before she knew it, she was in Jason's arms. He was holding her while talking to the police about the attack. He had his hands wrapped around her waist while he was behind her, maximizing the ability he had to stop her should she run.

He knew what he was doing, and it was working to calm her slightly, to the point where the police were able to talk to her about her experience with the attacker they knew as Hour, or as Arianna (Last name).

Once they were done with questioning her, they spoke more to Jason, who still had her in his grasp.

She surveyed the area and noticed that Bruce was talking to Superman.

The pieces were all falling into place. She knew he had to be Batman at that moment.

And she wanted in on it.

The hopelessness she felt when Aria had her kidnapped was astronomical. She wanted to make sure no one ever felt that way again, not if she could help it. She wanted in on it all.

She thought back to Jason's stab wound, the scar still fresh. She knew it wasn't a mugging. It had to be him saving the city from peril. She realized how dumb she was for buying into that lie, but she wasn't mad at anyone in her vicinity.

She was mad- pissed- so far beyond angry at Aria.

She didn't know she could be so angry. She didn't know she had it in her to be so angry at Aria. But she was. She was so unbelievably pissed. Any mention of her name sent Y/N into seething anger, and Jason could feel her heart race in her body.

She wasn't paying attention to words anymore. She just wanted to get out of there, to go home. To her home, not Jason's. She didn't feel safe in the Wayne Manor anymore.

No one could blame her when she told the police to drive her to her house, not the Wayne Manor. Jason just hugged her and asked when he could see her next. She told him in the morning. "Or," she added, "At 3 in the morning. I don't care. Just leave me alone right now."

Everyone understood. They didn't have their own sister kidnap them after all.

She got to her house and got inside, A/N immediately trying to flag her down to talk to her, but she just put up a hand and waved her off. Slinking to her room without a second thought and locking the door.

She didn't want to talk about it. The thoughts about her sister racing through her mind. The thoughts about how her boyfriend was a vigilante. How was she going to bring this up? How was she going to tell him that she knew? That she wanted in on the act? That she wanted to fight alongside him- and his family?

Before she knew it, and like clockwork, it was 3 in the morning. And Jason was knocking on her window. She assumed that he had tried to let himself into her room, but to no avail since she hadn't unlocked the door.

She went over to her window and unlocked it. She lifted it and Jason crawled in.

"I have a front door," she said.

"You didn't answer when I tried to knock on your door," he joked. "How are you holding up?"

"As well as anyone can in my situation."

"Well, everyone wishes you came home with us, so we could watch you on your first night away from-"

"From my sister?"

"I was going to say from captivity."

"So, my sister."

"Yeah, that."

"Uh-huh."

"So, anyway," Jason said, trying to get Y/N's mind off of Aria. "Did you sleep when you got here?" he asked.

"No. I was busy."

"Doing what?"

"Lost in thought. There's a lot of thoughts, not enough brain," she joked. "You probably get that part."

"I do-"

"When were you going to tell me?" she but in.

"Tell you what?" he questioned, confused.

"That you're one of the vigilantes," she answered, studying his face. He seemed taken aback by the statement and tried to avert her gaze. Oh yeah, he knows what I'm on about, she thought.

"I-"

"You know what I'm on about, Jay. You know I know so don't lie anymore."

"Y/N-"

"No. You know I know. I know you know. Don't lie anymore. I'm not even ad at the lies, you're trying to keep me safe, obviously."

"Oh."

"The truth is, babe, I want in."

"What!?"

(Oh my god? Are we going to get Red Hood action? (The answer is yes, in due time)

#jason todd angst #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood angst #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #red hood x fem!reader #red hood x reader #red hood #batbros #batfamily #batfam #batman #bruce wayne #superman #clark kent #justice league #dceu #dcu #dc #nightwing #dick grayson #batgirl #spoiler dc #stephanie brown #orphan dc #cassandra wayne

[heyitsani]

So Devoid of Color

@dickgraysonweek Day 4: Bruce hits Dick and doesn’t get away with it

Word Count: 3161

Rating: Teen and Up

Warnings: Off screen violence, Dami might say a bad word

Pairing: None

Summary: Tim, Jason, and Damian learn something about Bruce and Dick’s relationship that none of them are willing to let continue.

Notes: I think this is my second time writing from Tim’s POV and I’m still not certain I’ve got a good grasp on it.  But here it is all the same.

You can also read this on AO3 here

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

The Cave went deathly silent in the aftermath.

For those 30 or so seconds immediately after the distinct sound of a fist hitting a cheekbone, it was like they had landed in a vacuum of sound.

It was such a startling contrast to the shouting that had led up to that exact moment.  The fight between Dick and Bruce hadn’t been surprising. When Red Robin had called Nightwing on his private comm line to report that Robin had been shot on patrol, he had known the eldest would panic.  And when he found out it was because Batman had made a mistake, Tim knew shit would hit the fan.

Quite literally.

But Tim hadn’t anticipated Bruce taking a swing at Dick when the latter had accused Bruce of purposefully using Damian as a shield so he could go after Two Face himself.  It wasn’t even one of the worst things he had heard Dick tell Bruce in the heat of an argument, but something about it had pushed Bruce over an edge none of them had realized he could go over.  Sure, Bruce could be a hard ass, but Tim had never seen him get to this point.  And a quick glance at Jason, who was coiled tight with his hands clenched tightly at his side, revealed that Tim wasn’t the only one caught off guard.

He expected Dick to swing back, to say something in retaliation, but instead he watched his brother straightened and wipe at the blood now dripping from his nose.  From this angle Tim could see the angry mark Bruce’s gauntlet had left on Dick’s cheekbone and it made him wonder if there was anything broken beneath the surface.

“That’s your one free hit, Bruce.  I’m not the kid you used to push around to win arguments anymore.  Nor am I emotionally compromised to the point that you can manipulate me into getting your way,” Dick spoke lowly, voice dangerous and anger simmering just below the surface.  It was rare to hear that particular tone come from Dick, but it never failed to send a shiver down his spine.  For all the sunshine Dick projected, most weren’t aware of the precision of the weapon he could be.  “I told you if you couldn’t protect him that I would.  He’s still legally mine.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“I’m stating facts.  I may have been disposable to you over the years, but you are out of your fucking mind if you think I’ll let you hurt him the same way.”  Movement out of the corner of his eye pulled Tim’s surprised attention from the pair, finding Jason stalking forward.  And Tim knew that walk, he knew that look.  

Jason was pissed and that didn’t bode well for one or both of them.

“What the fuck did you mean by that?”  Jason demanded, grabbing Dick’s shoulder to turn him to face him instead of Bruce. But Dick didn’t respond, and Tim could see his jaw clench from here.  In fact, at this angle he could get a much better look at the damage Bruce had done and it was definitely looking like Dick’s cheek was starting to swell.  

“What on god’s green earth is going on out here?”  Alfred’s stern voice broke through the silence that had fallen over them again and Tim spared the elderly man a glance before he moved over to where Jason and Dick were still facing each other.  He could tell they were having one of their silent conversations, but that wouldn’t stop him.

“It’s nothing Alfred,” Bruce huffed, causing Dick and Jason to tense up even more.  “How is Damian?”

“Dick?”  Tim spoke softly, not wanting to pull too much attention to himself.  It took a moment before his brother looked over at him and Tim tensed at the look in his eyes.  It was unfamiliar and difficult to put a name to.  But there was something that concerned him there.  He placed a hand on Dick’s upper arm before looking to Jason, finding the other man already considering him with a curiosity that Tim knew well.

Jason’s eyes narrowed just slightly, and Tim gave him a nod before looking back to Dick and making a show of raising his hand to the bruise on his cheek so he would see it coming. “Not broken,” he muttered.  Dick nodded and Jason gave a huff of air while Tim continued to poke at the cheek in question.  “Who is going to get him?”  He whispered as he worked.  Dick jerked in surprise, eyebrows drawing down in confusion, but Tim knew Jason would get it.

“He’s more likely to come with me than you.  You ride with Goldie.  We’ll meet you.”  Tim as he let his hands fall away from Dick’s face, satisfied that nothing needed immediate attention.  It could wait until they got back one of the safehouses.  “Go to the one I showed you after that Penguin fight where Ivy showed.”

Remembering that night and what a mess it had been, Tim also remembered that it was one of the safehouses that Jason always kept stocked up on medical supplies.  If they were going to have Damian with a gunshot wound and Dick with his face, they needed supplies.  “All right,” he agreed, looking over his shoulder to see Bruce watching them with his eyes narrowed and Alfred frowning beside him.

“You two want to clue me in?”  Dick finally spoke up, voice just barely above a whisper and threaded tight with tension.  

Tim watched Jason give his shoulder a squeeze before sending Tim a look that spoke volumes.  “Come on, Dick.  Get your gear.  We’re leaving,” he told his brother as Jason walked away toward the other two men.

“Wait, Tim,” Dick protested, pulling his elbow out of the younger’s grip.  “I can’t just leave Damian.  Not while he’s hurt.”

Sighing, Tim stopped and looked up at Dick.  “We’re leaving.”  His tone gave no room for argument, but Tim also knew Dick was practically made to argue. “Trust me.  Trust Jason.”  Dick stared at him for a moment before looking toward the medbay where Damian was resting.  Tim knew he was considering the options and that whatever he decided now would say a lot about their relationship.

“Okay,” he finally agreed, and Tim gave him a nod before heading over to where he had left his gear, Dick’s not far from it.  There was a moment more of hesitation before Dick finally turned away and grabbed his own gloves and helmet.  “I’ll follow you?”

Where Tim would have usually thrown out a snarky remark and a smirk, he instead nodded and hopped onto his own motorcycle before turning the engine over.  Once he was sure Dick was set and ready to go, he gave one last glance behind them to see Jason and Bruce nose to nose and Alfred no where in sight.  He wasn’t sure what it meant for the situation, but he couldn’t find it in him to care at the moment.  Not when he had just seen his adoptive father punch one of his brothers.  Not when it wasn’t the first time, apparently. No.  He almost hoped Jason would return the favor and knock Bruce down on his ass.  Almost.

But that wasn’t a thought train he could go down at the moment.  He had more important things to do, like getting Dick out of there and fixing up his brother’s face once they got to the safehouse.  Which didn’t take as long as he thought it would.  Of course, with it still being the early hours of the day, most of Gotham was either still asleep or just waking up for the day.  It made it easier to store their bikes in Jason’s hiding spot and sneak into the building without anyone seeing.

“This is Jay’s?”  Dick looked around, frowning as they stepped inside and tugged off their helmets.  He paused and looked at one of the posters hanging on the wall.  “Roy must use it,” he muttered.  Tim let him wander around as he made his way into the kitchen to grab the supplies under the sink and an ice pack in the freezer.

“Here,” he called out, tossing the pack toward Dick who caught it easily and gave him a small smile of thanks. “Will you tell me what you meant?” Tim asked as he opened the medical kit and began digging through it to make sure they had the things they would need for Damian.  When no response came from his brother, he looked up and found Dick frowning as he stared out the window.  “Dick?”

Blinking, the older man looked over at him and waved a hand.  “Don’t worry about it, Timmy.  Ancient history, and all that.”  Unfortunately for Dick, Tim was too good at reading him now and knew when he was deflecting.  So Tim watched him, taking in all the signs he had memorized over the years.  The tight line of his shoulders, the clenched fist at his side, the white knuckles of the hand pressing the ice pack just a bit too hard to his bruised cheek.  They told Tim more than Dick was willing to at the moment.

“How many times.”

It wasn’t a question and Tim wasn’t going to let Dick get away with brushing it under the rug, not this time.  Not this topic.  “Just drop it, Tim.  I’m already going to have to fight Jason on this.  Just…it’s not important.”

Tim scoffed.  “It was important enough to use against Bruce.” Which, throwing back at Dick at the moment was probably a bit of a low blow, but sometimes you had to play dirty to get Dick to talk.

“Look, don’t act like you don’t know of at least one other time he used his fists against me.”  The words were accusatory, but the tone was defeated.  It made Tim furrow his brows, trying to think of what Dick could possibly mean.  “I know there’s no chance you haven’t come across Bruce’s cowl footage from after the Crime Syndicate, before I joined Spyral.”

But Tim had no idea what Dick was talking about.  And it must have shown on his face because soon enough Dick had closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

“A little help here,” Jason’s voice cut off anything either of them were planning on saying and Tim hurried over to take some of Damian’s weight from Jason.  A quick scan of the teen showed the blood seeping through the bandage at his shoulder and the light sheen of sweat on his forehead.  The ride must have been rough.  “Let’s get him on the bed.”

Dick rushed ahead of them and fussed over the bedding so they could get Damian comfortable with minimal effort from the pair carrying him.  Jason let out a grunt when they set Damian down, leaning just slightly upright on the pillows Dick had stacked.

“I’ll grab the kit and change the bandage,” Tim muttered, looking at Jason before leaving the room to grab the supply kit he had been looking through moments earlier.  He paused on his way back into the room to grab the ice pack Dick had been using but dropped to hurry and help get the bed ready for the youngest of them.  “Dick,” he called, handing the ice pack back to him as he moved onto the side of the bed where the wound was.  Dick frowned but took the pack, pressing it back to his cheek.

“What-”  Damian tried to speak as Tim went to work on the bandage. The teen cleared his throat and clenched his jaw for a moment before slowly releasing a breath through his nose, all signs of how much pain he was in without showing it on his face.  “What happened, Richard?”  He asked, voice a bit raspy with the pain he was fighting.

“Nothing.”

“Bruce.”

Tim looked between Dick and Jason as they both answered, Dick sounding calming and Jason with the expected anger.  Honestly, he expected this from both of them.  Dick would forever be shielding Damian from what little bad the teen hadn’t already been exposed to.  And Jason would never sugar coat anything that had to do with Bruce.  Even if their relationship had been improving up until this point.

He wasn’t foolish enough to think that would continue with what they witnessed tonight.

“Don’t,” Jason growled, pointing a finger at Dick who had opened his mouth to say something.  “You don’t get to lie or brush this off.  You suggested this wasn’t the first time and if that’s the case then we deserve to know.  He deserves to know.”

But Dick didn’t respond. Instead he turned his eyes onto Damian and Tim locked eyes with Jason.  The older man’s expression was grim and Tim felt his probably just looked exhausted. They had all dealt with Dick’s stubborn nature, but he wouldn’t win this time.  Not with all three of them pushing.

Not with what Dick had accidentally revealed before Jason and Damian had arrived.

“Tell us about after the Syndicate.”  Tim turned his eyes onto the bandages he was taping to Damian’s wound, which thankfully hadn’t torn any stitches.  The teen narrowed his eyes on him and Tim attempted to give him a smile.  He wasn’t Dick and he wasn’t good at comfort, but at least he and Damian had gotten over the feud they had suffered for so long. At least they trusted each other now.

With a shuffling sound, Tim glanced over to find Dick sitting on the edge of the bed near Damian’s feet with his eyes gazing off at a spot on the wall.  “I didn’t want to go.  I…” They watched him take a deep breath and release it slowly.  “I begged him to let me stay.  But he had already planned out the whole thing.  Had my funeral and told the world I had died.  Said it was the only way to make sure none of it happened to anyone else in the family.”

“But that has nothing to do with Bruce punching you tonight.”

“It doesn’t seem like it, but his words were not going to be enough to convince me,” Dick turned to Jason, who had moved to lean against the closest wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

“And by that you mean….?” Tim considered what Dick said earlier and what he was saying now.  “The cave was trashed after your funeral.  Alfred said he had never seen so much damage.  And how it almost seemed too much for one person to do.  Even Bruce.”

The silence blanketed them for the second time that night and this time it was suffocating.  Whereas the air felt sucked from them earlier, this time it felt like it was weighing him down to the point that it would crush him where he sat with a hand still on Damian’s shoulder.  

That point of contact clued him into the fact that Damian was shaking.  Small tremors rippling through his muscles.  A barely contained anger.  And Tim didn’t blame him.  Damian had been dead and Dick had been devastated.  He said it was the only reason the Syndicate had been able to get the drop on him to begin with.  That if he hadn’t been so destroyed by Damian’s death, his focus wouldn’t have been in pieces. That they would never have grabbed him without a fight.  And that was enough to make the teen upset, but then throw in this new piece of information?  

“He beat you into submission,” Jason’s voice finally broke the silence, cutting through it like one of Damian’s katanas cut through flesh.  Effortlessly and deadly.  “That’s what you’re not willing to just come out and say.  He took an emotionally compromised man who had been beaten and strapped to a literal bomb, and beat the ever loving shit out of him to get him to do what he wanted.”

“Richard,” Damian whispered.

“You know what the time was like, Jason.  Tim. You both know what everyone was like,” Dick tried to reason, ignoring Damian’s almost-plea.  “None of us were our real selves, Bruce especially.”

There was a loud crash and Tim jerked as he snapped his eyes onto Jason, finding him breathing heavily and his eyes rimmed green.  “Don’t make excuses for him!”  Jason pushed off the wall and Tim noticed a dent next to him, assuming the crash had been a fist hitting the wall.  “None of us might have been the real versions of us, but none of us beat the shit out of people we supposedly cared about just to get them to submit!  You don’t get to brush this off like it’s no big deal. You don’t get to do that because if this had happened to any of us, you wouldn’t let us.”

“That’s different.”

“The fuck it is,” Damian cut in.  Tim watched Dick’s eyes go wide as he looked at the teen.  “It’s only different because you think you are not worth the same as the rest of us.  You value your life less than ours, but the same cannot be said for us.”  When Damian’s hand landed on Tim’s arm, he looked over and immediately jumped to help him sit more upright.  “Father is not infallible and your loyalty to him is a disservice to yourself.  And I for one will not stand for it any longer.”

“I’m with the kid,” Jason interjected, crossing his arms over his chest again.  Tim noticed the green had faded from his eyes, but his body was still one large ball of tension.  “This stops now.  I can’t do anything about what happened in the past, but if he lays a finger on you again and I will put him in his own grave.”

“You know they’re right, Dick.”  Tim spoke softly, keeping his own emotions out of it because Damian and Jason had enough for all of them.  “There’s more than you’re telling us, we all know it.  But this can’t happen again.  And when we tell the girls and Duke, they’ll all say the same thing.”  In fact, Tim cringed inwardly thinking about how Cass and Barbara would react once they heard.

“No,” Dick turned his wide eyes on Tim.  “You can’t tell them.  They don’t need to know.”

Tim sighed and shook his head.  “They do. They might already know what happened tonight, who knows where Babs has her cameras and mics set up down there. But we’re a family and we don’t keep these kinds of secrets.  They always backfire on us.  It’s time we learned that lesson.”

Jason moved over and set a hand on Dick’s shoulder.  “You can’t preach the family line to the rest of us and not think we’ll use it against you.”

“Yeah, okay,” Dick nodded, looking between the three of them before settling on Damian.  “Okay.”

#dick grayson #tim drake #jason todd #damian wayne #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #batfam #dickgraysonweek2021 #dickgraysonweek #anikah writes

[sleeping-lilies]

Title: I Get Tim a Cat Because It’s What He Deserves (oh and i guess a group chat 🙄)

a batfam/wayne family groupchat would literally never happen in canon but it would be so fucking funny you all don’t even know, so i will do it anyways.

the chat just kinda... starts. no one know where it came from. who added them. who??? none of their emotionally stunted asses would be caught dead making making a family chat tf? why can’t any of them leave? they smash their phones and then on their laptop a notification pops up like “you’ve joined ‘x’ group” and they’re stuck there. might as well use it ig, but for what???

“everyone who is alive type ‘i’” no one responds so bruce spends hours trying to find out where their bodies are until he finds out everyone just had the chat on mute

“why isn’t alfred on here” “huh. alfred isn’t on here and no one knows who made the chat?” “so whoever made it just left immediately?” “...” “lol anyways”

tim was trying to send a snap to the core four gc but accidentally sent it to the family chat and gets super embarrassed (of course this happens when everyone’s online why wouldn’t they if it makes tim’s life more difficult) and everyone makes fun of him. duke printed out copies and plastered them all over tim’s apartment while tim was out for something and tim nearly murders duke. after that no one puts the chat on mute because this was too funny.

no one actually, like, texts on a regular basis because they’re not like other families 🙄 they only text if it’s really important or someone’s dying.

that’s being said, “dick where is dog” “send doggy” “dog?” “send doggy” “dick when did you get a dog?” “SEND DOGGY” “i demand you send the dog this instant” “dog now.”

damian breaks into dick’s apartment to take a selfie with him and haley (or bitewing, haley is just shorter to type) captioned “she is mine this is a warning to all of you. i will not hesitate if any of you low lives come near her.” and dick is like “??? this is my dog i can’t have anything these days, siblings take everything, man—” oh ya, everyone reacts to the haley photo with a heart. also dick only lets this shit slide with damian, if jason the problem child pulled this shit it would be on sight lmfaooo

- tim: the dog is cute but, but in photography i learned you have to crop out everything unimportant, like this *crops out damian from the photo*

- in other news, tim joined the dead bats club and now only bruce and duke are left 😃🔪

bruce: check in if you are alive. *everyone’s status is online*

u don’t know about y’all, but my bruce wayne is a responsible father who keeps an eye on his kids, or at least does his best, “has anyone seen duke? he has school and i can’t find him” “i will find him... if you give me $50.” “i will give you the money jason just tell me where he is” jason sends a photo of himself and duke laying down on the floor eating pop tarts.

-“literally why do you all keep coming into my apartment” “our apartment, dick” “i pay for this apartment it’s mine, i keep living in blüdhaven for a reason, god, siblings always steal everything that’s your’s—” it’s ok guys dick simultaneously has eldest daughter’s syndrome and absent sibling syndrome, who is doing it like him? legend behavior. anyways, duke and jason left crumbs on the floor and dick beat them up lmao.

“can i have money” “dad” (theyre sent by same person just different text) “yes cass i will sent you as much as you need, $2,000 is enough for shipping with friends?” “dad can i have money too” “dad can i too” “may i have some too dad” “dad” “dad” fhdjdjsks they only call him dad when they’re dying, want something, or are tattling on each other, someone save him 😩

“@everyone the interviewer in the last segment asked me if we have a family chat and i have a feeling they will try to pry into my texts to see what we are texting, please actually send something so they don’t get even more nosy from our lack of communicating” *someone sends the bee movie script*

ok but like, as time goes on they get more comfy texting each other and acting like a normal(ish) family unit that texts a little more. like tattling.

“someone broke the vase in the hallway and if they don’t want me to tell pennyworth who did it they will buy alfred the cat a new scratching post by nightfall” damian is so funny i love him

“HELPPVHRNXKAK” “what’s up with jason?” “cass is sitting on him” “lol” “i think she’s gonna break his arm fhdjdksk” “ANDBSJ I HAT E YO U A LL” “when did you all come to the manor???”

“😂” bruce vs “lol” dick and cass vs “agdhsjak” tim and duke vs “hA” jason vs “i don’t find any of you funny” damian

“damian i am putting your lemon cake pop thingies in the last bottom shelf on the right, i put the code and everything in the safe” “how often does damian even come to your apartment, dick?” “whenever you’re being an asshole bruce” “he’s always an asshole dickhead 🙄” “exactly 🥰”

“dad guess what” “TIM NOOO” “remember when” “TIM TIM TIM” “you told duke to take the day shift” “I WILL NEVER POST YOUR SNAP PHOTOS TO A GROUPCHAT WITH THE ENTIRE SUPERHERO COMMUNITY AGAIN!!!” “and he agreed to if he did his school work first?” “MERCY, MERCY” “what did he do, tim” “fjdjxkskkz duke goes on school zoom meetings during patrol and pretends he doesn’t have a mic and camera and i was watching his helmet footage and it was so funny, the teachers just believe him when he pretends to have really bad network and can barely type in the chat” “my teachers never trusted me that much” “that’s because you made a kid cry once jason stfu” “wait how did u know that cass—“

“AHDBSNZKAJHF” “stfu duke” “what’s wrong with him where is he?” “cain came to visit” “ohhhh” “FHDJFJDJ HELLPPPXSND” “i know you’re taking a video, you little shit, send it” “no todd come here and take one yourself—or don’t, your presence is unwanted” “fucking brat”

“DAD DICK HIT ME” “DAD JASON’S LYING” *bruce wayne online* (he doesn’t fucking respond fhsjskla) (is it because he’s exasperated with them or crying because they called him dad even though it’s a manipulation tactic or both we’ll never know)

“everyone who is alive, type in chat” *everyone is online* then bruce edits the message to say ‘everyone who wants alfred’s cinnamon rolls, type in chat’ “i guess NO ONE wants alfred’s cinnamon rolls, how sad” and the entire chat goes wild lmfao

ok uhhh let’s do on a scale of 1-10 texts most vs is online the most

bruce: 6-texting, 5.9-online because he always makes an effort to text his kids to check up on them and when his kids are texting he will text as well here and there in the convo to interact with them because he never sees and interacts with them normally and he wants to do better 🥲. he get’s minus 0.1 because of that one time jason and dick were fighting and he logged off agdhsjnz

dick: 3-texting, 3.5-online because he’s the only one in this hellhole of a family that has an actual job (in this house we uphold gymnastics teacher grayson 🙏) and sometimes he won’t have energy to text. so. but he does make an effort when he can. he’s online more than he texts because he’s able to sneak looks at the fights when he has downtime during his job and wants to see the drama lmfaooo. also everything goes on in his fucking apartment for some reason, so now he gotta break up a (one sided) fight between cass and tim because someone has to be a responsible adult.

cass: 2-texting, 10-online because she watches more than she texts? she’s more content to watch what’s going on than to join in. also 8/10 she’s usually the one causing the drama that everyone’s texting about, like beating up the others, so she can’t text while beating them up. i mean she could, but she wants to put more energy in beating them up (lovingly) (cass is basically violence (loving)) and watching what everyone’s saying about her fights. she’s always online to catch a glimpse at the drama. also most of her texts are to dick to see bitewing. and ask for money.

jason: texting-8, online-4 because if cass is the one causing drama offline, jason’s causing drama online. jason wants to be chat cryptic but texts the most lmfaoooo. he’s antagonizing his siblings whenever he sees them and whenever he can’t, king shit. he’s online less because he deadass doesn’t care that much, he’ll read the texts later if he really wants to, otherwise either duke or tim will fill him in on the drama. (“jason ur in the chat too—“ “shut up, tim, now tell me how cass beat damian’s ass)

tim: texting-6.44444, online-10, see tim texts a lot just not to the family group chat lmfao, he has REAL FRIENDS 😤 uhh ya, that’s why he’s online all the time, cuz he’s either texting his friends or on his phone doing some shit. broke: tim stays up late working on cases, woke: tim stays up late texting his friends and playing video games over chat. tim just. interacts with his family, gets bullied by them, ya. that’s the life. also he and duke keep throwing hands because it’s the family curse to beat up tim and in this essay i will discuss how dick is the superior sibling because he never tried to kill tim—wait he probably pushed him down the stairs once nvm but it was totally justified, king

duke: texting-4, online-4 because he has, like, school. and daytime patrol. and is like a junior in high school and therefore has a fuck ton of homework. my boy has no time for family and he doesn’t want it because they’re annoying, obviously 🙄. if he wants drama he’ll go into damian’s room and get the drama. diy icon. he’s online as much as he texts but is so fast of a reader he’ll know the drama in time for the next episode of wayne family shit. most of his time online is picking fights with tim and roasting his siblings to a crisp. he’s so mean, guys, legend has it that one time duke told jason that his helmet looked like a shriveled up dildo and that it could never be the gay statement he wanted it to be jason went offline for that entire day in order to cry himself to sleep. at least he got sleep (allegedly) ayyy duke the problem solver.

damian: texting-1.5, online 2 because the only time he’s texting is to ask dick for photos of bitewing and to send photos of his pets back as proper payment. a negotiator ugghhh father like son. damian honestly doesn’t care about the drama he just wants to sketch bitewing (using the photos dick sent as reference) into the Family Portrait Sketch™️ of the rest of the Animal Family™️. it is an honor for damian to create such a piece, picasso the women hater quakes in his grave as such art that blows his dog shit “art” FAR out of the water is developing. anyways, he goes online for that and to throw random barbs at his siblings. like no one is online and damian just throws a “drake is stupid” in chat and just dips. he’s online more to text the other teen titans and jon because they’re better than his dumbass family (and he texts grayson on messenger so fhdjdjsks) true chat cryptic, jason envies him

alfred: 0-texting, 10-online. huh who said that

“duke take down the tik toks, tim is crying”

“who has my sweatshirt??? i will kill you all” “i have it jason” “nvm cass that’s your sweatshirt now i’m sorry for being presumptuous don’t aTTACK ME” fhdjdjsks

“guys i have the day off do you want to hear when delilah said to jonathon it’s so funny” “are those the kids in your gymnastics class?” “ya” “tell us everything”

the bats just... love hearing drama about those kids because they’re so dramatic. apparently alex threw a rubber ball at maya and she tackled them. wild.

time for a round of: WHO SAID IT?!?!

“how do i make my text bold like the rest of you?” —bruce, dick, cass, and jason at some point.

“how do i change my screen name? please change it back to before” -cass when tim changed her name to “hal jordon #1 stan” (“what is a stan” —bruce), (“i don’t like it either change it back” —bruce after finding out what a stan is)

“what the fuck is a pog” —jason

“fucking ‘tik tok’. we used to use vine when i was a teen. i was a front line soldier of great disasters” —dick on one hand lmfao dick is so old but on the other hand holy shit you used vine??? tell us more about the battles fought

“what is a dilf?” —bruce after scrolling through twitter

ok that’s all, my brain is gone.

“cass dick is turning purple get off him” “no. make him give me my scarf back.” “oh dad that’s terrible can you send a video as evidence?”

“GUYS I FOUND A CAT AND IT SCRATCHED ME AND IM GOING TO THE HOSPITAL BUT GUYS!!! CAT!!!” “drake send a photo of the cat immediately” lmfao bruce zooms to the hospital after that text

“GUYS THE CAT HAS AN OWNER I CANT KEEP THE CAT 🥲” “the one time you could prove to be of use and you fail, drake.” “wow tim, find a cat to steal without an owner next time” “timmy, timmy, timmy, i can’t believe you’ve messed up in finding a cat again” “again?” “again?” “again?” “when i adopt a cat i’m not showing any of you, i hate you all” (lmao hard version of guess who is who i’ll give you a hint dick cass and bruce are the confused ones. )ok it’s not hard anymore.

“dad please get me a cat 😳🐱 haha jk 🤣😩 unless 👀😏😃🙏🥰” anyways tim named the cat starry because of her fur-hair-thingy

“they just so you all know steph just crashed in my apartment and i have work in the morning” “i will pick her up in the morning” “you mean tim will, you don’t have a license, cass. anyways”

“dick do you need help moving?” “no, bruce, i think i can handle it, donna and wally are helping me anyways, but thank you” “mOVING???” “OUT OF YOUR APARTMENT???” “DICK THAT SAME APARTMENT ON 666 HELLHOLE AVENUE???” “...ya?” “NOOOOO” anyways they all break into dick’s new apartment when he moves in, walk around it, and then leave. they just... ya... damn, these bats...

anyways that’s all. see ya.

#dbsjxjjs the batkids just have an attachment to dick’s apartment #the batkids: sir thats my emotional support apartment you can’t just move #fuck you all damian is very well versed in internet culture he just chooses to not use it #dick was around in the time of VINE. YALL. #the fact that dick is the only one with like a normal job fjsjsks #he’s the only one that does his taxes too besides bruce #bruce trying his best and that’s all i will accept. i love him. #jason: wannabe cryptic vs damian: cryptic king. #cass just. beats up her brothers because she can. she deserves it too. #tim deserves nice things so i gave him a cat. #duke is so funny i love him. #he’s like “time to fuck up tim’s life again heheheh” #duke is literally 16? a teen? he’s mean by default thats it #dc comics #batfam #bruce wayne #dick grayson #cassandra cain #jason todd #tim drake #duke thomas #damian wayne #featuring those damn gymnastics kids 😩 #mine

[internalsealpanic]

Better Die Than Doubt

Summary:  You wince knowing he’s already noticed. You feel the tiniest bit more at ease as he approaches your booth but it didn’t stop your eyes from flickering and searching for something off in the environment. The creeping sense of being watched trails up your spine. You’re sure.

A/n: To no one’s shock, this entire fic was unplanned. I was possessed by the urge to make it (translation: I got the urge to write this and one of my enablers said do it).  This story should be treated more or less as a horror story. Nothing is being glorified here except how dorky Jason is. That being said,  PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS. This fic contains quite a few triggering things and I really don’t want you to be blindsided.  Also thanks to @knightfall05x for helping me write this whole thing. Thanks to @batarella (HOE) for action writing tips.

Warnings: graphic violence, stalking, emotional manipulation, unhealthy coping mechanisms, drugging, nongraphic description of rape, and rape aftermath 

masterlist

You press the heels of your palms into your eyes. You could practically feel the oncoming headache the way you could sense someone coming down the hall. This is what happens when you’re running on just 5 hours of restless sleep for the last few days. This headache was also not helped by the fact that this was your fifth coffee in the past 30 minutes. You probably should not be drinking this much caffeine this late but intelligent decisions weren’t exactly your strong suit this week. You rub the sides of your forehead feeling another wave of nausea. 

 You check the time again and groan.  It’s been one-and-a-half hours since your agreed upon time had lapsed and yet one Jason Peter Todd was nowhere to be seen. You curse, nerves edging, and mind fraying.  To be perfectly fair to him, he is a busy guy, vigilante, and all. You understood that fairly well- and this was sudden to say the least. You can’t really fault him for being a bit late but the long wait was ratcheting up your anxiety. Again, the coffee didn’t help but considering it was the only thing you could keep down since last night, you didn’t have much choice. 

 Last night. 

 Your stomach tumbled. You cup your hand over your mouth feeling your coffee traveling back up your esophagus. You let out a long exasperated breath, letting yourself sink into the booth. You look out the window, eyes flickering wildly searching for Jason. Your hands tighten around your mug. The feeling of being watched made you bristle. 

 Jason, well, Jason wasn’t hard to spot. The man was 6 feet 4 inches of pure muscle and leather. Having a handsome face and a ‘fuck you’ look in his eyes also helped.  In short, the man was hard to ignore. You wave weakly to him as he dismounts his bike, a gesture far too small for your usual bombastic self. Jason’s smarmy smile greets you as he returns the gesture with his gloved hand. The motion is slow and cautious, rickety in a way. You wince knowing he’s already noticed. You feel the tiniest bit more at ease as he approaches your booth but it didn’t stop your eyes from flickering and searching for something off in the environment. The creeping sense of being watched trails up your spine. You’re sure. 

 “Jesus, y/n, you look like Timbo” Jason chuckles sliding into the booth his green eyes shining with scrutiny. You look at him flatly not having enough energy to properly respond to his jab. He winces seeing your lack of reaction. “Rough night, huh?” He asks flagging down a waitress, who looked quite pleased to get away from her previous table.  

 You nod weakly, slowly as if the fact that it had been a rough couple of days had just sunk in. “Yeah,” you reply, your voice small and a little threadbare. You drum your fingers against your increasingly cold mug. The waitress sets a couple of warm mugs in front of you. Her soft smile makes you uneasy. You and Jason mutter a thanks as she tells you to wave her over if you need anything else. Her warm brown eyes boring into the stark purple bruise on your face. You shrink and smile sheepishly at her.

 “I’m fi-”

 “I am going to throw these sugar packets at you if you say you’re fine.”

 “Damn, ok, Mr.Kettle,” You laugh. His concern startles a genuine laugh out of you. You’re sincerely surprised how lively the sound that comes out of you is. “You know if you keep sounding like that, Jay, you’re gonna wreck the whole stone-cold badass thing you got going,”

 “Y/n..”

 You huff running your hand through your disheveled hair, trying in vain, to soothe your mind. What was the best way to put it? You swallowed, gathering your lapsing thoughts. “Sooo uh-” The collar of your shirt suddenly felt tight around your neck. “-I-” You breathe. “-I found around 4 or 5 of Blackmask’s boys and Deathstroke-No, I’m not shitting you- in my- my apartment for- well- the third time in the last two months, can I crash at your place? Just ‘til I find a new place. Oh and also how do I get rid of them?”

  He blinks as his brain takes its sweet fucking time digesting what you had just said.  He leans back groaning and running his hands over his face. He looks like he’d like to deck you if he wasn’t too busy being concerned for your welfare. You shrink again, feeling bad for springing it on him. The decision to leave out the gory details of your hectic week suddenly felt like the wisest choice but you had no doubt he’ll get it out of you at some point. 

 “I’ll skip the obvious ‘why did you wait three times before moving’ question because I feel like I’m probably going to get an aneurysm from your answer,”  Your reasoning wasn’t quite that stupid. You were mucking about Sionis’s operation. The fucker decided to branch out his little enterprise into your city and like hell, you were gonna leave well enough alone. After you had set fire to one of his warehouses, you thought that would explain the False Facers. But Deathstroke? Deathstroke was a mystery. You’ve also been mucking about his business but you two have always been civil if not friendly. Frenemies of sorts, you guessed. You’ve been encountering him a lot in the last few days. You had figured that Blackmask had hired him but considering he threw two men out of your apartment window last night, you’re not entirely sure.  You make an affronted noise that Jason elects to ignore. 

 “What did they do?”

 “Aside from necessitating a visit to IKEA?  Nothing.”

 “Did they take anything? Leave a message?”

 “Nope, nothing-” You furrow your brow trying to recall. You shake your head. “-They just made sure I knew they broke in.” You add, shrugging your shoulder. You wince at the movement. Your shoulder still aches from being hit with a bat. Jason’s shoulders shift, moving as if to reach out to you but stops himself. Instead, he continues with his line of questioning. “Sweetheart, there’s gotta be something missing.” 

 You frown, biting your cheek. Jason rests his chin on his hand, green eyes watching you and urging you to think back. It was either the weight of his gaze or the lack of sleep that was making it hard to recall. You close your eyes and catalog your belongings, analyzing the mental picture you have like a crime scene like how he taught you months ago, breaking it down into the smallest pieces of information and bringing it back into a bigger picture.  Still, nothing. Nothing of note was missing. You shake your head and shrug your uninjured shoulder. Jason glares at the immobile one. You shake your head silently telling him it wasn’t from last night which just made him clench his jaw. 

 “Evidence?”

 You shake your head.  He frowns baffled. 

 “Tech?”

 You shake your head again. 

 “Anything personal?” He asks jokingly. 

 “I-” A cold horror washes over you trailed by embarrassment. Your vibrator had been missing and so were a couple of your lingerie sets. You feel your stomach drop to the floor. “Oh god, Jay- I- Please, let me stay with you.” 

 “And have them steal my stuff?” He chuckles. 

 “Please, Jay, like you have anything worth stealing.” Jason frowns at you scrutinizing your face. You level him a glare but it was more in an effort to fight down a blush than anything venomous. Jason’s jaw unclenches and his face breaks into a shit-eating grin. “What color was it?”

 “Wha-”

 “Bzzzzzzzt ” 

 If you weren’t blushing before, you are now. Heat climbs up your spine. Your mouth felt dry. 

 “Well, what color was it, sweetheart?” Jason drawls, his voice dropping an octave. You shiver but bristle just as quickly. You bite your cheek and glare at him. “HA. HA. HA. Funny, Todd.”

 “Was it Red Hood Red?” Jason teases, winking and raising his cup of coffee to his lips. 

 “Nightwing blue” You deadpan. Jason coughed into his drink.  You preen with satisfaction. 

 “Does it make stupid puns while you go at it? ”

 “Yup,” You say, the ‘p’ popping. “That’s part of the appeal.” You joke smiling into your mug.  Jason snorts. “How is that supposed to be sexy?”

 You shrug, a sharper less tired smile cutting across your features. “Dunno man. Nightwing is pretty sexy if you ask me.” You wink.  

 Jason makes a fake gagging noise. Well, it seems fake with how theatrical the gesture is but with bats? You never could tell. You roll your eyes and giggle.  Jason’s shoulders loosen at your bubble of laughter, his face slipping into one of his sheepish smiles. “In all seriousness, y/n, you can stay at my place.”

 You smile at him, your usual fluorescent smile. 

Click

 Click

 Click

 A man from across the street watches you intently through the lens of a camera. 

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

 Slade throws the photos across Roman’s desk, each glossy piece of paper containing a candid photo of you looking increasingly frayed and anxious.  

 Roman marvels at how your usually larger than life figure shrank into your puffy coat, how small and malleable and inexperienced you looked. He notes the panicked look in your eyes in every one of the photos and savors it. He couldn't wait to see it for himself. 

 In one photo, you're looking over your shoulder as you enter your office building. 

 In one, you’re tracing circles on a child’s hand with your thumb,  beaming brightly as you told some wild tale to distract the child. 

 In another, you're slumped in your desk chair as you think over a case looking absolutely exasperated but determined. 

 In yet another one, you're locking lips with a man, his hand trailing up your shirt. Roman made sure to give the man some swimming lessons a few weeks prior.  

 In the photo in Roman’s hand, you're at the emergency room looking like you haven't slept in 2 days. Your face was bruised and your clothes were torn in several places where Slade had managed to land a blow. Your delicate skin marred with cuts and trickling blood. Absolutely gorgeous.   

 He examines it closely. The photo was taken just a few hours ago. You look like you're going to cry but your shoulders and jaw are squared more frustrated than scared. There's a fire in your eyes that threatens to level the city. A thrill rides up his spine at the prospect of extinguishing it. 

 “This is why you wanted to throw my men out the window?”

 Slade hums. He shrugs and the edge of his lips curl into a smile. “It was the only way to convince the kid that we’re both after her-” His eye drifts to your face. Appraising but impassive. “The kid’s scared out of her mind and exhausted at this point.”

 Slade had a point. Roman had to give him that. It wouldn’t be obvious to the casual observer but it would be plain as day to anyone like Roman who had been studying you for a while. You weren’t quite as meticulous with your appearance as Roman thought you should be (He would work on that later) but the dishevelment in your appearance was obvious. The slight dip in your shoulders in place of the prim posture that you usually employed was a blatant indication of your weariness. And the falter in your smile, the flickering in your eyes, and the number of times you let yourself bite your cheek showed the cracks in your fearless image. 

 Who knew weeks upon weeks of chaos could weather Minos City’s own budding hero? 

 In the photo next to Roman’s hand, your laughing face is stark and lively against the drab atmosphere of the diner, bubbling laughter carving life into your exhausted features making you look more like the shining paragon your city has come to rely on. The man sitting in front of you is laughing too. The sharp edges of his grin softened by the fondness in his eyes. It was hard not to recognize him even with such a foreign expression plastered onto his face.  Roman crushes the photo in his hand. 

 “BUT NOW SHE’S WITH THAT SCUMBAG RED HOOD”

 “And she’s now with the Red Hood. In his secluded safe house. Weakened and far from help. Most likely thinking that she’s safe under his protection and blissfully unaware of the tracker I put in her arm.”

 “I see… It seems like you are worth the pay.”

 Slade made no effort in hiding his smug grin.  

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

 “Jay, I really am sorry about this.” You mumble for what seemed like the fifth time in the past half hour. 

 “I sincerely hope you’re apologizing for the fact that you neglected to tell me you had bruised ribs before getting on my bike and not the fact that you’re staying with me because two crazy assholes decided your place needed remodeling.” Jason exasperates, pinching the bridge of his nose. You feel kind of annoyed by the gesture but he did have a point especially with your city’s less than smooth roads. You were also pretty banged up. As it turns out, facing off against a bunch of goons plus a master assassin is not good for your health. You swore viciously under your breath. Now, you weren’t expecting Deathstroke to go easy on you despite your rapport but the guy really didn’t have to throw you around like a rag doll. Even with your power to adjust the odds, it was a miracle that you escaped intact. 

 “Well, Mr.Pot, you ride your bike all the time even with broken ribs.” You bite back. Jason rolls his eyes unaffected by the distilled venom in your voice.

  “Well, one of us is a stone-cold badass- ”

 “And the other is a sasquatch with a stick up his ass.” You sneer snatching the beer bottle from Jason. Your tone was far too fond and playful to have any actual bite. Jason chuckles at you and ruffles your hair before snatching it back and handing you a bottle of water.

 You huff taking the bottle from him and following him to the couch. He sits down on the couch patting the seat beside him. You plopped on to the couch, placing your sock feet on his lap. He grabs your ankles and throws your feet back at you. You just as quickly throw them back on and this time you do it with an absolutely delighted smirk on your face. “Rude,” He mumbles but doesn’t attempt to extricate you again. 

 “So Deathstroke, huh?” Jason starts, side-eyeing you over his beer. You adjust yourself to sit up a little straighter.

 “You mean the asshat who broke my favorite lamp last night?”

 “Who the hell has a favorite lamp?”

 “Me! And get to your point.”

 “Have you two- yanno?” Jason jokes, his eyebrows wiggling and hands gesturing vaguely. Your eyes grow wide and heat creeps up your neck and face. You scowl at Jason throwing a pillow at his face for good measure. He catches it with ease much to your frustration giving you his trademark triumphant grin. You kick at him with no real force. 

 “NO! What kind of soap opera shit is that?” You giggle into your drink. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it before. The guy was skilled and pretty witty.  You also had eyes and the man was handsome but something always felt strange about taking it further. You were civil but you kept your distance. 

 You pout at Jason again causing him to chuckle. “What? I’m just saying it’ll air out some tension~” He suggests winking. 

 “Oh my actual god, I hate you. I sincerely, truly hate you.” You laugh, kicking at his thigh. Jason makes an obviously fake hurt noise which draws out even more giggles out of you. Some tension in Jason’s shoulders releasing upon hearing the bubbly sounds. 

 “You speaking from experience, Jay?”

 Jason shakes his head and coughs. “Catwoman-” Cough. “Talia Al Ghul-” Cough. “Sorry, sweetheart, seems like I have a really bad cough this week.”  

 And that is how you spend the rest of the night questioning Bruce’s love life. 

“Food is in the fridge,” Jason says pointing to the said fridge which was sorely lacking magnets, sounding like a somewhat tired single parent. 

 “Do I look like I can keep anything down?”

 Jason snatches the water bottle you had abandoned on the side table next to the recliner. “With that big mouth of yours? Sure.” Jason teases lightly booping you on the nose with your water bottle. “Get some rest.”

 “Yes, mother” You sighed, burying yourself into the thick comforter he’d given you, crumpled water bottle in hand. He ruffles your hair. 

 “You know you’re safe here, right? ” The question startles you. You shift uncomfortably, pulling the comforter tightly around your shoulders. You shrug at him, not entirely certain how to answer. You know Jason’s safe house is, well, safe but you also thought your apartment was too. Your stomach twisted. 

 Jason squeezed your shoulder probably sensing the spiral of your thoughts. He smiles down at you, probably. It was hard to tell with the helmet.  

 “If you want, I can-”

 “No, Jay, I’ll be fine here. You can go on patrol. I’ll be fine. Promise.”

 The thing with Jason was that even when he was so big and bulky and hella intimidating, his empathy towards others had a bad habit of always shining through despite the layers of armor and sarcasm. You squeeze his hand, pressing little circles into his palm, and smile up at him. It was forced but it was the best you could do. Jason ruffles your hair again before letting go and making his way to the window. 

 “Get some sleep.”

 “Aye aye cap’n” You yawn settling into a slump on the couch. Jason can’t help but smile fondly at you.  You wave him a sleepy goodby before he sets off. 

You passed out on the couch, an old habit you never grew out of. You always slept on the couch when you felt uneasy. It may have been some sort of way to separate stress from your bedroom. It sure as shit wasn’t for safety reasons. Your equipment was dispersed throughout your apartment but your weapons were usually stowed away in your room. 

 You feel a hand running gently through your hair, smoothing away all your apprehension. 

 “Jay” You grouse, your hand halfheartedly swatting at the hand stroking your hair. You bury yourself further into the warmth of the comforter feeling the need to shrink away from the touch. You feel a soft prick on your neck.  

 Your eyes fly open.  

 Shit.

 The hand tangles in your hair. It throws you to the wall. The air is knocked out of your lungs. Your ribs scream. You scrabble to your feet. Your limbs fail you. They flail uselessly. Your breaths pick up. Your chest feels like it's caving. 

 "JAY" You shriek. “HELP.” A large hand grasps your throat. A rush of adrenaline kicks in. You thrash. You kick. Your hit lands. Another grasps your ankles. You scream. You swear viciously. Another grabs at your wrists. Something rough winds around your wrists and ankles. 

 The world tilts into an odd angle. Your head feels heavy so do your arms and your legs and everything. 

 "Jaaay" You slur, the air in your lungs becoming sluggish like everything else. "Jay" you sob again, knowing he wouldn't come. Not when he was so far away. 

 "Shut up you …..  bitch" You feel a swift kick to your stomach. It barely registers above the haze. 

 "Hey man-"

 "What? The …. man said we …… rough her up."

 "We can?"

 "Yeah, ……, said so"

 Your eyes blink, stupid, and uncomprehending.  Distantly, you hear yourself grunting and whimpering. You can feel their blows but your body is too far away, too inaccessible. It was strange to physically feel yourself drift away. 

.

.

.

 Roman traces the sun shaped scar radiating on your shoulder with a leather-clad hand. The one shot he’d managed to land on you the first time you’d stormed one of his warehouses. You were all cocksure and quick wit and boisterous laughter. You really had the devil’s own luck but it seems to have run out. Not that Roman’s got any complaints. Not when he’s got you laying at his feet,  tied up and vulnerable. 

 He crouches down, hand on his chin.  His eyes roam appreciatively over your sleeping form, appraising you like a premium cut of meat. You look pretty against the black silk sheets he’d chosen.  He sighs content with his prize. He traces the tip of his knife over your cheek, a dark purple bruise maring your features stark against the stainless surface of the blade. Slade really was quite careless when handling you. Not that Roman has any plans on being any gentler.  

 He lets his blade drift down, trailing down your neck down to the flimsy protection of your oversized shirt.  Your steady breaths falter. You keep your eyes shut trying to gather more information but it’s hard not to focus off the tip of the blade cold against your warm skin even as the blade cuts through the thin fabric of your shirt. A large hand grasps your face roughly. 

 “I know you're awake, baby-” You blanch still not opening your eyes. The grip on your jaw tightens. You grin like a madman. “It's rude to keep daddy waiting.” 

 “Sorry, Sionis, I was really hoping not to have to wake up  you’re ugly mug.” You sneer, voice thick and raspy with sleep but still full with your trademark confidence. Roman looks more amused than irritated.  Your body and mind are still at the cusp of sleep. You wriggle and almost cry out with joy when you feel them move. You mind the hand on your jaw and its tight grip. 

 “Baby, I won’t tell you a-” You spit in his face, cracking an eye open to see his reaction. A bloody grin spreads across your face like wildfire when you see the annoyance on his face. 

 “You’re going to regret that” He growls, wiping his face with a torn piece of your shirt. 

 “Oh please-” Something cracks across your jaw. 

 “The next time it’ll be the other end,” It takes a moment for your mind to catch on. You stare at the hilt of the blade for a moment before letting loose another smarmy grin. His violent reaction spurs you on. Yeah, you can definitely see why Jason thinks you’re going to age him twenty years. “Oh please, You like my face too much for that.”

 “You really wanna test that?”

 “Nope,” You say, spitting into his eye and landing a punch square in his face. You cackle like a madwoman when he goes down. You don’t bother hiding the delighted chirps that escape your chest. 

 Being petty, you give him a swift kick to the face before dashing towards the door.  You launch yourself, feeling like you can fly. The copper taste in your tongue almost feels sweet. 

 Your hand grasps the door when a hand tangles itself in your hair. 

 Roman throws you back onto the mattress, the springs digging into your back. You scratch and claw and thrash against the large hand wrapped around your throat. You snarl as Roman leans closer, his body pinning yours against the mattress, his weight immobilizing your fatigued limbs. A sweet-smelling cloth covers your mouth and nose, you gasp in surprise, inhaling the scent. Your mind is already sluggish by the time it catches on. 

 Your vision dims. 

 You feel hollowed out. 

 Your limbs fall away, arms drooping and pliant against the silk-covered mattress. The cloth feels too much against your skin. Vaguely, you feel horror prickling up your spine or maybe it was just the springs again. 

 Roman pulls away. You think you breathe a sigh of relief, feeling the weight of him lifted. He straddles your body, grinning down at you. Your mouth falls open to say something. You want to say that you curse him out or that you threaten him. The sound you make is small. Your tongue feels too heavy.  No, something is pressing it down, you think. 

 Above you, Roman is a towering colossus. You’re vaguely aware of the shifting of his hips. He removes his gloved hand from your mouth and caresses the side of your face with mock gentleness. His movements are sluggish and syrupy.  You make another noise when you realize to some degree of horror that isn’t. Your mind felt heavy and useless. 

 He snaps his fingers. The sound is dull like it's contending with water. A muffled set of steps approaches you. A man, you realize. You don't think you’ve noticed him before. His dark shape is messy and incomprehensible. A red dot flashes stark against his form. The mechanical sounds of a shutter drift in and out of your mind. You turn your head back to Roman at the sound of shifting fabric.

 Above you, Roman, already without his suit jacket, loosens his tie, eyes staring hungrily at you. The pit of your stomach feels painfully cold. You blink at him stupidly. He chuckles, grasping your chin to make sure you’re looking at him. You protest against his touch.

 “Don’t worry, baby, you’ll be the star of our little show like the filthy attention whore you really are. ” He laughs. It rumbles like thunder in your ears. 

 The world falls away. 

Click

Click

Click

.

.

.

.

.

One 

 Two

 .

.

.

.

One

 You feel a prick on your neck. 

 Hot breaths fan against your face. 

 Your body is too warm. 

 You don’t want to know why. 

 Twenty-five, you continue counting. 

 You feel fabric shift against you. 

 Something sharp digs itself into your flesh.  

 One 

 Two

 Three

 .

.

.

 Three?

 Something’s crushing your windpipe.

 Your body is aching. You’re not entirely sure whether it’s from use or disuse and by who. 

 “Good girl”

 Thirty

 .

.

.

 Twelve

 There’s something scraping against your flesh. 

 Is it a knife?

 Hot pants fan against your skin. 

 Teeth 

 Four

.

.

.

.

Fifty-six

 “Boss, I-.... going a …. bit too far?”

 Smack!

 “Do …. You…. to think?” 

 Two sixty-eight

 A hand strikes you. You think your jaw is broken. It hurts but then again everything hurts. All you can do is take it and whimper. 

 Tears sting against your face.  

  “That’s right. Just like that. Like that, you little whore.” 

 Your body is warm again. 

 You still don’t want to know. 

.

.

.

.

Two

 Two

 Two?

 You’ve counted two before. 

 You blink. 

 The haze of your mind lifts. 

 The coldness of the room seeps in your bones. You’re bare. You take stock of yourself, running your hands over your skin. Everything is still there. 

 Everything and a few other things. You let disgust and shame roll over you. A sob tears its way out of your chest. Your breath picks up. You feel your mind slipping. You press the heels of your palms into your eyes, calling your mind back and steadying yourself. 

 You take stock again. This time moving your limbs and jangling your joints.  They were weak but workable. You’re surprised to find yourself unbound aside from the collar around your neck. You suppose Roman’s confident in his drugs. How long have you been here? You press lightly against your neck, feeling the higher than normal pulsing of your artery. You shift yourself waking your legs up. 

 You stiffen, gooseflesh spreading over your skin as light filters into the room through the door. Your eyes snap shut, stinging from the sudden intrusion of light. The pulse beneath your fingers jackrabbits. You think you’ll keel over. 

 “Shhhhhh”

 All the strength in your veins floods out, leaving a feeling of cold horror in its place. You scream or you try.  Your body feels impossibly rigid. Roman stalks towards you, his footfalls slow and deliberate and too loud. Your heart jumps up to your throat with each step. You inch yourself away from him, drawing yourself up to make yourself feel bigger. He coos at how adorable you are, trying to look defiant. The mattress dips under his weight. Your mind begins to slip away from you again. The world falls away from you. You anchor it, digging your nails into your palms. He cups your face, thumb caressing your bottom lip. You glower at him and bite out something witty. He laughs amusement lighting up his features, the sound grates against your ears. 

 “Not gonna fight back?” He taunts, pressing his thumb down on your bottom lip. Your body recoils but then goes slack as he runs his hand up and down your side. Shame blankets you but the fear etched into you keeps you still. 

 Roman loosens his tie. 

 Your mind falls out of your reach. 

 “Such a good little slut.” He murmurs against your lips.

 NO

 You wanted to say. 

 Instead, your mind starts counting again even as you hear the rustle of fabric. 

 .

.

.

. 

 BANG

 A gunshot rings through the thick atmosphere of the room. 

 Roman curses. 

 His men stampede. 

 Another round of shots fire. 

 Something- No, no.  Someone tears Roman off of you. 

 “Deathstroke?” You croak, your voice sounding foreign and absurdly brittle. 

 “Do you know anyone else walking around looking like this, kid?”

 “Ravager” You snark, lips twitching into a smile. He rolls his eyes underneath his mask. The familiarity of the exchange breathes life into your body. Roman’s hand grips your wrist with bruising intensity. Your breath catches. 

 No. No. No.

 The word loops in your head like a constant rat-tat. 

 Slade’s foot makes contact with Roman’s head, the force of it unnecessary but satisfactory. The sounds of bone-cracking fill the air. The man falls uselessly to the grimey floor. He shoots him with a couple of rounds for good measure, each shot instilling a pang of finality in the back of your mind. 

 You scrabble towards Slade, wide-eyed and shallow breathed.  You cling to Slade as he bundles your body in silken sheets.  He hoists you easily into his arms. You bury your face into the junction between his neck and shoulder, closing your eyes, the image of Roman’s bloody body on the floor pressed into your mind. You sob in relief. Your hands clasping onto Slade, white-knuckled and shaking.

  "I've got you, sweetheart," He rumbles, running his hand through your hair soothingly. The tight knots in your body, loosen. You whimper a quiet thank you. “I’ve got you.”

 You lift your head only to see Roman twitch. 

 Your breathing falters. 

 Fear pricks your spine. 

 Your mind falls away from you again. 

 Distantly, you feel Slade’s grip on you tightens. 

 Distantly, you hear him murmur something. 

 Everything is too far away. 

 Your eyes blink sluggishly. The world becomes dimmer with each blink. 

 .

.

.

.

 A warm spray of water drizzles down over your aching skin. Your open wounds sting but the warm water pooling around you soothes the aches of your bruised flesh. Your eyes focus on the soft off-white of the tile on the wall opposite you. You don’t let yourself about the thin, rusty red film swirling in the water. The air in the room is thick with steam and the scent of lavender. 

 The absence of grime on your skin makes you feel lighter and gauzy and immaterial. You felt naked and obscene like you had been taken apart and now someone was examining pieces of you. You almost miss it. 

 “Lean back” Slade grumbles as he lathers your hair with some lavender concoction the hotel provided. Your body follows automatically, eagerly, obediently. You tell yourself you’re just tired. You tell yourself nothing’s wrong with your response. You tell yourself you’re ok. You wince. The warm water around you shifts. You hear it splash against the tile. You flinch at how loud it sounds. You take a deep breath and lean into his touch. He’s handling you delicately as though you would fall apart any second. You might. 

 Blinking away tears, you watch his face, aware that by leaning back, you’d be giving him a good view of the hickies, bite marks, and knife wounds Roman ‘gifted’ you. There’s a slight twitch in the corners of his lips. He must be disgusted with you too. You want to sink into the hot water and let it burn you anew, but you don’t trust yourself not to drown.   

 You close your eyes as another spray of warm water pours over you. You melt into it hoping it’s enough to wash the last few days- weeks?- away. 

.

.

. 

 Your hands grasp his face, pulling him towards you. His hands brace against the tub, keeping him from falling in with you. Your arms loop around his neck, your hot breath fanning against his lips. You press your lips against him, searching and wanting. For what exactly? Comfort? Safety? Stimulation? His lips press lightly against yours, not quite a kiss. Slade actually looks taken aback. 

 The rest of the world floods back in. You peel away, your eyes wide with terror. “Shit- I’m- Fuck! Fuck! Shit, Slade, I- I’m sorry. I- Shit! I didn’t-” Your breathing ratchets up, becoming shallower as the pulsating in your ears grow louder. There’s a tightness growing in your chest that makes you think your ribcage is about to implode. You cover your face with your hands not caring how it didn’t help your shallowing breaths. You can’t look at him. You just can’t. You know you’re disgusting. 

 Your body wants to come apart, dissolve, and if it can, evaporate. You can’t breathe. You curl into yourself, into the water. A hand grabs at your wrist. You flinch. The hand carefully pries your hand away, forcing you to uncurl. Slade’s other hand cups your face gently, guiding you to look him in the eye. The lack of disgust in his face rattles you.

 His thumb brushes against your lips making your stomach twist and your spine curl. He dips his head closer to yours. You kiss him eagerly. He lets out a pleased hum and smiles against your lips. Something cold licks at the bottom of your stomach but it’s overtaken by the need for connection, to fill in what had been hollowed out.   

You press closer to him than strictly necessary as you watch the news, chewing on your cheek.  He pulls you close, shifting you on to his lap. You don’t protest, eyes glued to the TV. 

 “Businessman, Roman Sionis, was found with several gunshot wounds to the stomach in one of his warehouses here in Minos City. He is now in stable condition. Authorities say...”

 Your jaw falls slack in mute horror. Your stomach tumbles to the floor.  You’re hyperventilating. Your teeth are digging into your cheek, you taste copper. Your mind spirals back into the room, back to the dirty mattress, back to Roman. 

 Strong arms wrap around you, stilling your trembling body against a broad chest. Your body relaxes a fraction. You curl into him, the buzz of nervous energy settling into a quieter panic. 

 “You’re safe with me, you know that don’t you, sweetheart?” Slade says tracing circles into your palm. You lean your head into his shoulder. You nod easing against him. “I’ll never let that monster anywhere near you.” He promises, pressing a kiss into your hair. A little sob wrenches free of your imploding chest. 

 Slade keeps his face buried in your hair even as you fall into a lull. It was the only way to hide the triumphant grin spreading across his face. 

 “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll take good care of you.”

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

A/n: Thanks for reading. There’s a follow up to this because I can’t cope with bad endings. I had to promise myself a good second part to make the ending horrifying. 

The writing process for this fic was basically:

Me: I have this horrifying idea!

My brain: Yes but what if we put a little dork Jason in it. 

Me: I guess that wouldn’t hurt. 

Me: Ok I have written nearly 2k of dorky Jason where’s the other parts?

Brain: Uh what other parts?

Me: *sighs and spends the next few days spamming @knightfall05x*

taglist: 

@batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes,  @americasmarauders , @l-horizon11, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay, @wunderstell

#yandere dc #yandere blackmask #yandere roman sionis #yandere deathstroke #yandere slade wilson #Black Mask #Deathstroke #slade wilson x reader #Roman Sionis #roman sionis x reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #Jason Todd #red hood x reader

[nextwarden]

Webtoons are good for the soul [Long post] [but worth it] [hopefully]

Bit of a long one (for a change...), sorry.

I haven’t read that many that’s a lie but here are my favs!

Lore Olympus by Rachel Smythe [ongoing - every Sunday]

or when Hades met Persephone. It’s a love story, fluffy yet deep and sad at times. Very well told and with incredible art (as you can see from the cover ci-dessus), in a pastel/watercolour fluid style, as is the storytelling. It has compelling characters, character growth, love, funny moments, and basically the best you could ask from a romantic story. And it had enough material to get you through good number of hours of reading before you have to break down every sunday in wait of the following week like the rest of us.

mah-hart-mah-sole/10

Love Advice From the Great Duke of Hell by unfins [ongoing - every Friday]

Paul is in love with a cute girl who works in a café nearby. But Paul is shy and can’t work out how to go ask her out. So Paul does what anyone would do and summons one of the Great Dukes of Hell in order to get better at fumbling his sentences and blushing at beautiful maidens. It’s about discovery of one’s true self and how getting deep into shenanigans will lead you to find so much more. Also, sister. (You’ll understand when you get there.)

It’s funny but also compelling and serious but still incredibly funny. I don’t think I’ve laughed as much reading any other webtoon and yet the story is also really cool. It strikes a perfect balance, or near perfect. The expressions and the action scenes are just incredible too.

chenandeler bong/10

Suitor Armor by Purpah [ongoing - every Friday]

In a land with magic and war between humans and fairies, Lucia is the princess’s lady in waiting and her only goal in life at the moment is to get her Lady to have the wedding she wishes for and deserves. But then she gets a flower from a magic armor and everything changes. Also, she’s a fairy.

It’s well drawn, characters all seem unique, varied and personnality-driven. The art style is beautiful. It’s also deeper than what I expected, with inklings of different types and levels of drama.

Alright, I’ll say it, it feels like a ‘promising new Lore Olympus’. By which I mean not to compare but simply to say I felt as taken by the story as I did with L.O.

Modeus/10

Facing the Sun by ArtbyTesslyn [ongoing]

Aarya reaserches the intricacies of dobotics and artificial intelligence with her companion robot Liza who's expiration is long everdue. Things change with a hardware update. One can’t live without the other, and neither can the other.

It’s dark but beautiful, both in the art and in the story. The sci-fi elements aren’t overwhelming and pieces of lore bring begin to pain a picture over time. It’s a slow burn but oh lord! if it isn’t going to be blazing hot...

I Robot/10

Spellbound by Ronce [ongoing]

Eglantine joins a new highschool midyear and finds herself paired with a refractarian roommate. She does her best to fit in to her new school despite not conforming to all the expectations that others might have of her. Or of her strange but likeable roommate.

It’s a cute and queer little romance, very underrated in my opinion. The art is wonderful, it’s black and white in the beginning and starts having touches of colour here and there before going full blown coloured, and I didn’t even realize it had until many chapters into it... The characters all all diverse and interesting. Also did I forget to say it’s set in France and it’s a wizarding school? Because it is!

conseiller principal d’éducation/10

180 Angel by King Katbird [ongoing]

Chloe is an angel, she lives in Heaven and goes to school in the hopes of becoming a delivery angel one day! However her plan are compromised by her inability to do anything well except halo manipulation. Even flying is not easy for her. But a fateful meeting with a reaper sends her on a trip to Hell and back which changes her. Or is it that she had always been different?

It may not seem much from the banner but I tried it and I got hooke. The art is great and still improves over time, the plot takes a bit of time to set in - I’m still not sure it’s fully set in yet - but it’s worth it, and the characters are visually deep. It sometimes jumps weirdly between scenes or sequences but not so much it completely loses you.

LAMP/10

Letters on the Wall by JaelynGs [ongoing]

Tara comes back fom spain after a five years abroad to find things have changed and others haven’t, to her equal pleasure and dismay. This is how she and her friends deal with these old relatioships that they are now reviving.

Everything doesn’t go smoothly despite each and every character deserving them to. The art is good to begin with and manages to improve over time, as well as the storytelling. Where it might have been a bit hectic before, it smoothes over time. It was for the longest time the only reason I would stalk Webtoons everyday to see if there was any updates. Also each chapter has a colour in the name and that’s just cool!

If Da Yomanville Gang [see below] got me to come to Webtoons, this sealed the deal for me to stay. [And then there was Lore Olympus.]/10

Not So Shoujo Love Story by Curryuku [ongoing - every Tuesday]

Rei Chan-chan loves Hansum, the chin chin chinny goodest looking student, more than she loves her shoujo manga. But gorgeous Hannah is in her way and won’t seem to let her get her way with him. Why is that? Well, gaybe there’s a secret hidden behind her motives? Read it to find out...

It’s funny, it’s cute, and it’s so, so stupid. I love them all. It’s dumb but so much fun to read. There aren’t that many chapters yet but enough to get into it. Also, sisters. (You’ll understand when you get there. Bis) So this is what the spring of youth feels like, huh...

chips/10

Always Human by walkingnorth [completed]

Sunati, a young engineer in training, fan of all those mods you can add to change your appearance, meets Austen, a beautiful yet modless girl who she’s been admiring from afar for a while now. She thinks the girl’s beautiful, but sdly she’s refused when she asks her out on a date, and for rather good reasons.

Now watch as they gravitate around each other and how it influences them both.

It’s a slow-burn quite realistic lesbian sci-fi story about finding love and accepting oneself and others in the midst of life and all it brings upon us. It’s cute, it’s fluffy, and it’s heartwarming despite broaching serious subjects - in a good way -, and it’s finished so you can read the whole thing! (It has enough chapters to give you a few hours of reading)

hay fever sucks/10

Da Yomanville Gang by Jason King [ongoing - every Tuesday]

Layla moved recently, to get away from a dose of angst she didn’t want to have to deal with. She meets new people, fun and friendly people, but it seems the angst can’t quite seem to leave her alone. Alone is what she’s not to deal with it anymore, however.

This is the one, long before Lore Olympus, which brought bme over to Webtoons. It’s not the best drawn, not the most compelling, but the strong point and what made me love it - beyond Layla’s chara design - is the depth of most of the characters, how not all good is good and all bad is bad, and reality often lies in the middle - and how they evolve over the course of the story. Definitely worth a read.

wheelbarrow/10

Love Bot by Chase Keels and Miranda Mundt [ongoing - every Sunday]

In the near future - the year is (Blade Runner) 2049 - technology has advanced enough to creat pseudo-artificial intelligence and thus lovebots. Xada mods and repairs those emotionnaly intelligent robots for a living. What brings this story about is him toying with a less-than-friendly client’s bot so much so that he finds himself in quite a pickle when the bot ‘wakes up’.

It seems to be BL. Let it be BL, please! The art is very nice, the story feels dark but the pitch give way to many interesting possibilities, and, well, the characters are quite nice to look at, I’ll admit... Also, angst. I don’t always enjoy it but when I do, I do.

Not many chapters but it’s getting there.

i’ll let you bot my love/10

Mage & Demon Queen by Color_LES [ongoing - every Thusday]

Malori is the best and the most promising mage student at her school. Aided by Cerik, her best friend and swordsman party member, she attempts to conquer the last floor of the demon tower, reigned over by the ferocious Velverosa, the demon queen, whose defeat will bring glory and richess to those who defeat her. But all is not quite as it seems and, what is that, might it be a crush I see over there? Oh, wait, no, that’s just our protagonist getting squished by the weight of her love...

Once again, it’s fun and stupid (a pattern? noooo) but it’s worth a read.

LES/10

Down to Earth by Pookie Senpai [ongoing - every Tuesday]

Kade live alone and depressed in spite of fleeting relatioships since his big breakup, content with simply going by life while he works in retail. One day, an alien crashes into his backyard. Zaida’s an alien but she’s cute, seems innocent, is unfamiliar with everything, so he agrees to help. Thus begins a slice of life story of them roommating in his appartment until, maybe, one of them crashes into the other’s heart?

It’s cute, heartwarming, and I sort f relate with the main character. Although I don’t know if’d prefer a cute alien, a dragon or a stalking neighbour... [that’s an inside joke, I’ll explain if I ever make a list of the good yamete onii-chan! I’ve been reading] It’s a slow burn with enough depth to hook you up. Some characters are still uncertain in my eyes but that makes me curious.

loner/10

The Remarried Empress by Alphatart / Sumpul [ongoing - every Wednesday and Sunday]

Navier Ellie Trovi is an empress. Perfect and perfectly content in every way with her life until the day a mistress enters her husband’s life. Things sort of go downhill from there. Or do they? For she also learns about herself and what she might actually want out of life to be happy. Breaking the status quo might be the way.

It feels like one of those poor quality isekai comics or manga in which the MC is brought back to a time where she has the power to change her life and decides for emancipation and revenge, but it’s not. It’s more ‘yolo’ and had interesting characters, especially the MC - no pushover - and a slow-burn plot. Don’t expect to see the flash-forward in the first chapter quite yet, but come to experience the whole affaire in detail and in the most satisfying of ways! Also the art is cool!

divorce/10

Muted by Miranda Mundt [ongoing - every Friday]

On her 21st birthday, Camille fails the ritual to become a full-fledged witch and is isolated from what remains of her old and successful family. This leads to her discovering truths about herself and her powers that will change her and those around her.

By the same author as Love Bot. I haven’t read the whole thing yet but the designs are good, the plot is interesting, the characters have depth and personnality, it has witches, magic, romance [I guess, still unsure of the details though], a bit of angst, and it’s set in Louisianna. All good points.

plant magic/10

Cursed Princess Club by LambCat [ongoing - every Monday]

Gwendolyn and her sisters, each a princess in their own right, are set to be betrothed to three princes of a neighbouring country after living all their lives happy and sheltered with their father and brother. Unfortunately, Gwendolyn is not like her sisters - and brother, for that matter - in that her beauty is... less than conventionnal. Devastated by what outsiders think of her she escapes into the forest and meets kindred spirits in the form of the Cursed Princess Club - non-gendered, they also have that one prince there! - and it might just help her grow into the confident woman she is destined to become.

I clicked for the funny hahas ‘because she’s ugly’ and cursed princess trope, I stayed for the genuine laughs and smiles and the heartwarming good nature of most of te characters. Also, haha, funny characters are funny. So, yeah, I started this with a bias - still haven’t caught up yet - and have been seduced by this lesser known webtoon. Don’t let the visuals fool you, it’s really good!

respect wahmen/10

Andy Bass by KenneDuck / Gia [ongoing - every Friday]

Andy Bass is our average highschool girl. Litterally. She’s half human, half fish, a real mermaid but vertically. That leads to less-than-friendly looks and reactions from others. However, the arrival of a new, and frankly very cute, transfer student might change all that.

Haven’t read it all yet, not that there are many chapters out, but it feel fun and promising. Also, physically imperfect characters are best characters. Down with the reign of beauty and up with 𝔠𝔬𝔪��𝔲𝔫𝔦𝔰𝔪!

Chin Hansum 2.0/10

For the Sake of Sita by Haga [completed]

A medical student passionately falls in love with a fallen goddess during his volunteer abroad in Nepal, and he desperately tries to fight off destiny to save his love. [the actual summary]

Okay, I’ll be honest: I haven’t quite read that one yet. I’m guilty of only having looked at the beginning and the end to see if it seemed worth it and, oh my gorsh! it does. The art is beautiful, the story seems sad yet beautiful too (I had tears reading the last chapters without knowing much of the rest) and it’s short, so jump on it!

[I’ll probably come back to that later when I’ve actually read it completely]/10

Us Right Now by yurineseventeen [ongoing]

Rina's long-term girlfriend, Noa, decides to run away from home. Rina has limited time to find her.

Not much more to say other than it’s sweet and it feels real. I like the beginning, haven’t read the rest yet, but will definitely soon.

keep going/10

New Normal: Class 8 by Youngpaka [ongoing - every Sunday]

Dongwoon has a big head. It does not make life easy. But what if he wasn’t alone being so... different? He discovers it is the case when he joins his new school a special class full of people who are different. Things get weird fast but also better and fun.

I haven’t read this in a long time, it’s on my list though. But until the moment I stopped at least, it was fun, funny, and interesting. It’s slice-of-life comedy, often ligthearted and stupid, sometimes more serious, but globally a pleasure to read.

sensei/10

The Witch and The Bull by Moonsia [ongoing - every Thursday]

Tan's job as the King's royal advisor has nothing to do with his hatred for witches, but it does make him a prime target for a curse that turns him into a BULL! The only way to undo this hex is to rely on the beautiful witch, Aro. Can her kindness turn his feelings around, and break this spell? [the actual summary]

There are two bulls and they have to ask it questions to know which is the real bull? I dunno, I haven’t read this one... But it’s been recommnded by @berigolote​ so it’s worth a try I guess? She did recommend Lore Olympus to me, so it’s on my list anyway.

to try/10

The Right Knight and Our Days in Lumain by buttersphere [completed & ongoing]

A fun short comic about a play on the ‘knight comes to fight dragon to save princess in her tower’ trope and it’s sequel. The sequel is not finished yet (seems on hiatus) but they are worth the read for cute, funny, fluffy knight and dragon/witch romance and grumpy princesses.

need more/10

NetOL by Forever9Nine [completed]

A slice of life comic about a veeery shy cat-girl (not literally) falling in love with a warm-tempered bookshop employee ( and NOT her colleague), and all the shenanigans that ensue. It’s short, it’s fun, and it’s cute. What more to ask?

oh wow sports/10

Susuhara is a Demon by Soya S. Holm [ongoing]

The usual romance storyof perfectly perfect girl meets absolutely bazongers delinquent and reluctantly carries her unconscious ass to her appartment to help her after witnessing a gang fight between multiple idiots and her (future) idiot and saving her from a knife attack by bashing the last standing dude with a wooden shop sign. Legend says there’s a demon in K-city, I still am unsure of whom it might be.

fun/10

It Stems From Love by Soya S. Holm [competed]

A short story about a girl who loves flowers and finds herself unexpectedly coughing them up dramatically whenever she’s jealous of those around her crush. It’s short, it’s cute, a bit dark at times, but definitely worth a read!

bouquet final/10

Lesbiampires by fabarts [ongoing]

So, yeah, lesbian vampires. Nuffin’ ta add.

Well, anyway, it’s cute, it’s funny, it’s serious too, it makes me root for antihero type characters who actually murder people for fun (but in a fun and respectful way, I swear!) because, well, love./10

Perfect Harmony by bluebloodtanuki [ongoing]

An Overwatch fan-comic about Symmetra and her disaster roommates.

I don’t play Overatch but I like the lore and got dragged into fanfiction and shipping (by myself, mind you), so a fan-comic about similar dynamics AND it’s funny? Gimme.

Roadhog & Junkrat best duo/10

Love Doesn’t Talk by Ann [completed?]

A misunderstanding is fine. Two? Hmmm. Three? Surely that’s fate, no?

A cute love story unfolding before your eyes with no dialogue, only pretty pictures. I’m not actually sure it’s completed but even if it isn’t, the ending doesn’t feel disappointing in the least.

no words/10

AntiSTALKER by VOKIVORMOK [ongoing - every Thursday]

Humans, vampires and werewolves all cohabitate in this freaky highschool, despite tensions between the three races. A bittersweet yet fun love story between a fake stalker and his amnesiac prey...

Eugene wants Kira’s heart, she wants his head.

who?/10

Kiss It Goodbye by Ticcytx [ongoing]

Two lesbians in love recount to their drunk friends the story of how they met. It’s fun and cute, both in story and in art.

delinquent x prim&proper/10

Avril and the Divine Being by Charlie Genmor [ongoing]

Avril is a waitress, Cat is a reccuring client. Feeling blossom before they even exchange words and when they finally do, embarassment ensues.

I got hooked by the art style for this one and I have yet to be disappointed. Not many chapters but keep it close.

sunny/10

Sunflower by EtoileKonijn [ongoing]

Wednesday, an art student, meets Sophie, a friend of a friend. Feelings ensue. It’s beginning to have a good number of chapters (even if they are short) and it feels like it’s actually the slowest burn of them all. Very much worth a read though, for the art style especially.

cute/10

It Takes Two by love_of_pi [ongoing]

Common art style: imperfect but improving. Classic story: normal girl meets famous girl by accident and leave a great first impression. Shenanigans and romance ensue. However the tints of drama, the fun interaction between characters, and the smooth plot make it worth it.

Honolulu latte/10

A Mild Flavor by Ru-rin [ongoing]

A slice of life of different couples. One with a compromised relationship and bittersweet reflections of the past, and the other which is hidden from plain sight, at different times if life. It is not perfect but it managed to worm its way into my heart nonetheless.

tasty/10

The Greenhouse by Viesallon [ongoing]

Another one I haven’t read, but from the extracts I’ve seen the art is compelling, the story seems worth it - definitely deserves the drama tag it seems - and I keep it on my shortlist until I have time to read it.

supernatural/10

My Masochistic Boss by Arisas_Art [ongoing]

Debuting goth writer meets hellish boss of editing company about her new book. Disagreement and tensions ensue. It starts with a slap and might very well end in bed, stay tuned!

This one rebooted recently and the art is soooo beautiful, moreso than before is I may say.

sexy/10

Still Alive by Comic Kat19 [ongoing]

Half-zombie girl meets emo boy, baby ensues.

After the zombie apocalypse, they have to survive, and despite their differences, maybe together is better?

This I classify in the ‘Yuuutsu-kun to Succubus-san‘ category: a somewhat rough art style that I have come to love and enjoy greatly. Also the story is fun.

cat creature/10

The Biggest of Treasures by Aixn [ongoing]

That smile, that damn smile. It’s what got me to try and it got me to stay. The art style is beautiful and the chara designs is too. The plot? Not much to say yet, but cuteness is enough.

bright/10

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And there you go for now. These are my picks. I haven’t read everything on Webtoon, I haven’t even read everything I’ve subscribed to, but if I had to recommend anything I have tasted, here it is.

Sorry if I missed any you deem worthy; feel free to harass me and mock my lack of culture by flaunting your own.

Maybe more later, in the mean time: keep scrolling, scrub!

PART II

#webtoon #webcomics #comics #lore olympus #recommendations #yes i like cheesy romance stories so what? #about wlw #but not only #yes i also have a dumb child's humour #all of them deserve more views #long post #mega thread #look at what i'm doing instead of working on my finals #help