#oh man. a mother is truly a blade that never stops cutting. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

flowercrown-bard · 3 years

Note

I have another prompt for you! Do with it ehat you want. It rested way too long in my "Ideas I never use" box:

"I don't even care about my own life, why would I care about yours? I am a fucking pheonix, my dear, death is just like an insect to me – It stings, but has no lasting effect"

(maybe it's fitted for a Fey!Jaskier? Or Ageless!Jaskier? Or a Villain?)

Ohhh I love that prompt! Thank you!! <3 (shame on me, i left out the word 'fucking' bc it didn't fit the vibe of the fic. Hope it's still ok)

I again have no idea what I'm doing, but where would be the fun in knowing what's going on in my own writing XD

word count: 4884

content warnings: brief mention of blood, brief mention of injury, temporary character death (for about two seconds), burning alive (kind of)

There was something in this forest that didn’t belong here.

Hasty steps disturbed the birds’ songs and heavy panting cut through the illusion of safety that lay over this land like a fog.

The girl running through the woods threw a glance over her shoulder, a haunted expression on her face. Her feet caught on a protruding root and with a cry that pierced the air like an arrow, she fell onto her hands and knees.

Her scream carried on, long after she had closed her lips again. The echo started out as a whisper, then it grew louder and louder, became a symphony of fear and desperation. The sound of one who was truly lost.

Then again, all who found this forest were lost in one way or another.

And though they might not realise it, no one was ever truly alone in these woods.

Inhuman blue eyes watched from the shadows of the underbrush as the girl curled in on herself, lying on the forest floor in a heap of helplessness.

With slow steps that fell onto the earth silently as a sigh, Dandelion took off their cloak of shadow and approached the lost girl in front of them. As they came closer, they lightly hummed a melody, a soft lullaby made of wishes and dreams.

Slowly, the girl’s shuddering breaths evened out and some of that tension that held her in a vice-like grip, eased out of her shoulders.

“Child,” Dandelion spoke softly, in a voice that was bird song and trees swaying in the wind.

The girl looked up. For a moment, she didn’t seem to comprehend what was kneeling before her. Then, within the blink of an eye, she scrambled backwards, terror etched onto her face.

“You don’t need to fear me,” Dandelion said softly, holding their hands up.

“Why should I believe you?” The girl’s hands wandered across the forest floor until the closed around a branch lying next to her. Though fear twisted her face, she held the branch in front of her like a sword.

Dandelion cocked their head to the side, a smile flickering over their face. This girl was brave. Most lost people were, but there was something about her…something other. Something elder.

“You can believe me, because I can’t lie.”

“You’re not human.” The girl’s gaze wandered over Dandelion. They could nearly feel how her eyes raked over his claws that were just a little too sharp to pass as human, over their blonde locks that nearly had the colour of the flower they had named themselves after; the name yet another fruitless attempt to become more than they were. They were so close to being human. Still, despite centuries searching, they hadn’t found the right them yet. Not in this life and not in any that had come before.

“I am not,” they admitted and the words tasted like ash on their tongue. Always ash. Always fire and ambers. And yet, nothing more than a small sting that would pass when the life engulfed them in another embrace. Another chance.

“Then what are you?”

Dandelion lowered themselves to the ground, until they were at eye level with the girl. Carefully, they reached out their hand, an offer, an invitation.

“I am a Home for the Lost. Another Chance.”

“I am not lost!” The girl sprang to her feet without warning, gripping the branch tighter. “I know where I’m going. I’m…I’m looking for someone.”

“And someone’s looking for you, I assume?”

The girl bit her lip while her eyes darted to the side again, scanning the trees as if whoever she was running from could jump out and attack her at any moment.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” Dandelion repeated. “You can be lost here for as long as you need to be.”

“What if I don’t want to be lost?”

Dandelion gave her a smile that they knew couldn’t reach their eyes. “Then I can keep you safe until you’re found again.”

“But you’re not him. The one who’s supposed to protect me.” The girl’s breath hitched. “Are you? You’re not Geralt of Rivia.”

Dandelion drew in a deep breath, tasting the name on their tongue as they inhaled. Their eyes fluttered close as the power of the name surged through them.

“I’m not,” Dandelion agreed. It wasn’t a lie. And yet, they felt a part of Geralt of Rivia’s being taking root within him. His name was theirs. His winding path, his doubts, his destiny. His losses. “But he will come here. I promise you that.”

“How can you? Have you seen him in these woods? I didn’t know he was in Brokilon forest.”

“This isn’t Brokilon forest. It stopped being that when I found you. And it doesn’t matter where Geralt of Rivia is. Not yet.” A breeze ruffled through the trees, whispering its secrets to its master. “He will be here. All woods lead here, when you go deep enough. When you get lost enough.”

If there was one certainty that pulsed through the name like a heartbeat, it was that Geralt of Rivia was lost, more than anyone Dandelion knew of. Except, of course, for the one person that Dandelion didn’t have the power to guide back to their right path. The one person who was given chance after chance after chance for a new start and yet never found their way out of the maze they were trapped in.

“He will come.” Their promise tasted like lightning and the soothing melody of a bubbling river. “You will be his second chance. Until then, let me be yours. I will keep you safe.”

The girl hesitated a moment longer. Then, she dropped the branch and flung herself into Dandelion’s arms, desperate not to be lost again.

Dandelion’s held her tightly, rapped his shadowy cloak around her and whispered soothingly into her hair. The embrace was like the feeling of when the fire stopped. At least that was how Dandelion imagined it must feel, when there were no flames coursing through their veins.

But they couldn’t truly know. After all, everyone was in this forest was lost in one way or another.

‘The girl in the woods will be with you always’

Renfri’s words echoed in Geralt’s mind as he limped onwards through the trees, ignoring the worried calls of the man who had taken him with him on his cart.

Geralt couldn’t waste a single moment longer by staying with him and his wife. His child surprise was out there somewhere, waiting for him. And Geralt…Geralt didn’t know what to do. He had to find her, had to make sure she was safe.

Yet he had no way of knowing where she even was, or if she was still alive. It was a miracle Geralt himself wasn’t dead yet.

You can be lost here.

Geralt’s head snapped up, his eyes darting across the trees sharply.

“Who’s there?” He called out. A mistake he wouldn’t have done if his mind had been clear and not muddled by ghoul poison.

For a long moment, there was no reply. Ever so slowly, Geralt tore his eyes from the darkness that lurked behind the trees. That’s when a different echo reached him.

Not Geralt of Rivia.

This voice sounded younger. Child-like.

“Ciri.” The name was but a breath on his lips, but he knew it in his heart to be true. Somehow, this voice was Ciri’s.

His staggering steps got faster, until he nearly ran. Geralt didn’t care about how the movement tore at his wound, how twigs whipped into his face, how his breath became shallow as black spots danced before his eyes.

He was urged onwards by the unbending certainty that Ciri was near, that he would finally find her.

People linked by destiny would always find each other.

But there was something else as well. A wildfire in his chest, a strand of shadow tugging him onward.

Geralt of Rivia.

The echo of his name rang through the woods, through the air and the inside of his head. Two voices. Ciri’s – and another one. A voice that sent shivers down Geralt’s spine.

The repeat of his name turned into a melody. A lullaby. A siren’s call.

Every instinct in him screamed to turn back, to get himself to safety. But instincts had been beaten out of him a long time ago.

His instinct had told him that his mother would take care of him.

His instinct had told him that he was loved.

His instinct had told him that there was nothing he could lose by calling upon the law of surprise.

But, oh, how he had lost. His mother, the woman he had thought he had loved, the certainty that he could keep walking the path that had been his only guidance since Vesemir had taken him to Kaer Morhen.

Geralt had lost, again and again, until he had become lost himself.

His chest became tight and he had to squeeze his eyes shut against the pressure building behind his eyes.

He was lost.

And yet he had no choice but to keep going. A haunting lullaby and his name on the wind forbid him from turning back.

He tried to orient himself on the rays of sun shining through the canopy of too-green leaves. Desperate to reach a path or a person that would make him not-lost again, Geralt ran until his breath turned into pants and his muscles protested. Witchers didn’t tire so easily. If need be, Geralt could fight for hours, stay up for days. Yet, no matter how much his body ached and protested, claiming it had been hours, days, weeks, the sun remained in his spot, never moving, as if no time was passing.

Geralt’s lungs were burning and the pain in his leg flared up with every step, until there were no more steps to take.

His knees gave out from under him and he collapsed, falling to his hands and knees onto the grass, the blades of which looked sharp as a sword but felt soft beneath his hands. Like a pillow to lay down on. Like an embrace. Like a home.

Witchers had no home. They only had the path, and yet, looking at this strange forest with its whispers and stagnant sun, Geralt had not even this.

“I am lost,” He called out, an act of pure desperation that never before had he allowed himself to admit to. His voice was raspy and scratched at his throat like shards of glass. As if he hadn’t uttered a single word for weeks.

Lost.

The haunting reply came in his own voice. A chill raced down Geralt’s spine and his fingers fisted into the grass, desperate to cling to something.

“I don’t know the way.”

Away.

An unshakable fear seized Geralt. He didn’t care how his voice broke, how his body was already broken.

“I need help.”

Witchers didn’t need help. They didn’t beg. And if they ever did, their pleas would go unheard.

Not so Geralt’s.

Something snapped to his right. He winced, his hand instinctively reaching for his silver sword. The medallion on his chest vibrated furiously.

He pushed himself to his feet, trembling with the effort, but unwilling to be on his knees like a condemned man waiting for his executioner.

The snapping of twigs and rustling of leaves stopped for a moment, a quiet laugh that sounded like water tumbling over rocks replaced the sounds.

“I found you.”

Geralt stiffened. It was the same voice as the first whisper he had heard – the voice that had lured him here. Only this time, it wasn’t a whisper on the wind. It was very real and far too close for comfort.

Witchers didn’t receive help. Whatever had answered his call must have darker intentions.

“Show yourself!” Geralt demanded, gripping his sword tighter.

For a moment, everything went still. No more whispers, no lullaby, not even the rustling of leaves in the wind.

Then, the bushes to Geralt’s right parted and someone stepped through. No, not someone. Something.

The creature in front of him looked how someone who had only ever seen a human’s shadow might imagine a human to look like. The being walking towards him was taller than any human could be, towering over Geralt. Their limbs were too long.

When their lips parted for a smile, the rows of teeth in them were sharp as a wolf’s.

“What are you?” The question left Geralt before he could think better of it.

The being cocked their head to the side curiously, too-blue eyes wandering over Geralt’s body, as if they didn’t even notice the sword pointed at them.

“I’m the Second Chance,” the being said, their eyes flashing with something Geralt didn’t dare name. “Yours, if you want me to be.”

“Who else’s second chance are you?” The question didn’t make sense, but Geralt had no control over his tongue. There was something about this creature – person? – that urged him to say things he didn’t understand. It was as if deep down, he already knew the answer, as if a part of him had known this person for a long time.

The being didn’t reply, but they raised their hands to their side and brushed lovingly over something. The air flickered in front of Geralt’s eyes, making him nauseous and dizzy, yet when he tried to look closer, he could only see shadow behind the creature. Until they flicked a hand behind them and the shadows parted, revealing a smaller figure. A girl with blonde hair that stared at Geralt with big green eyes.

Geralt sucked in a sharp breath.

It was Ciri. The one who had been lost to him.

And she was standing behind a creature powerful enough to lure even a witcher in. A creature who now placed a clawed hand on Ciri’s shoulder – the shoulder of the girl Geralt was sworn to protect.

“Let her go.” The demand left Geralt’s lips like a beast’s snarl.

“Go?” The being’s eyes flashed dangerously. “I made a promise to keep her with me. I don’t let any lost soul go.”

Their eyes bore into Geralt’s, searching through his soul, laying bare everything he was.

A boy, lost and abandoned by his mother.

A man who had lost a fight with the woman he thought he had loved – losing the fight, losing her, losing what he had been so sure had been love.

A human, who had lost his humanity.

Geralt, who was nothing but lost.

And there in front of him stood a creature who kept lost souls. The being sucked in a deep breath, closing their eyes as if they could taste all of Geralt’s losses.

They would keep him. Him and Ciri, damned forever to wander this cursed forest in which time stood still and echoes whispered into his heart.

He couldn’t let that come to pass. Not for Ciri.

Geralt knew his life was lost as well, even as he swung his sword. It didn’t matter. He had to save Ciri, had to get her out of this creature’s grasp.

There was a cry when his blade pierced the being’s chest. Was it his own cry or Ciri’s? Was the whole forest screaming as its master fell to their knees? There was only one voice who didn’t join the cry of agony. One, who was deadly silent, as life drained from it.

Blue eyes shot open, staring at the blade buried in the being’s chest with curiosity that quickly turned into resignation. For but a heartbeat, fear flickered in the being’s expression.

Fire blazed in those blue eyes. Fire poured forth from the wound instead of blood. Fire came to life in the being’s hair, searing the dandelion-yellow strands and racing over their body until all that was left of them was dancing flames.

Geralt watched in horror, as the flesh turned to ash before his very eyes. No, not ash. Dandelion seeds.

The wind picked up, tearing at Geralt’s hair, pushing him away, making the dandelion seeds tumble through the air in a wild dance.

Leaves tore from the trees, yellow flower petals, bits and pieces of the forest. All was dancing through the air, forming shapes and breaking apart again. The grass that had been so soft a moment before, shot up, grew faster and higher than any plant could, forming the shape of legs, of a torso, of a head. And still the leaves whirled through the air, obscuring the sight to the body that formed right in front of Geralt’s eyes.

A pit opened in Geralt’s stomach and the realisation of what this meant crashed into him with the force of a cockatrice slamming into its prey.

The being wasn’t dead. But it was only a matter of time before Geralt was, dying at the hand of the creature he couldn’t kill.

Geralt’s sword slipped out of his limp grasp, landing on the ground with a soft thud.

Geralt followed a moment after, his knees hitting the ground once more. This time, his executioner wouldn’t hesitate.

Geralt couldn’t protect his child surprise. Not in the years to come. But there was one thing he could do in this moment, one last act of desperation to save a life that he had always been meant to guard with his own.

“I make you a bargain!” Geralt’s voice got drowned in the howling of the wind, and yet, the ever-changing shape of the being turned towards him. Geralt’s throat went dry, his chest tightening. “My life for hers.” Through the whirlwind of leaves and blossoms, Geralt met Ciri’s gaze. Her eyes were wide and terrified. She was his to save. “Take my life and give the girl back hers. Let her go.”

Geralt bowed his head, awaiting judgement. For failing Ciri. For failing Vesemir and not being able to kill this creature. For failing himself. For losing, just when he had finally found the girl he had been looking for.

The wind didn’t falter, yet it changed course. The petals drew closer together, reaching towards Geralt like a hand.

A soft touch brushed his chin, tilting his head upwards, forcing him to look at the swirling shapes before him.

Though the being had no lips yet, their voice was clear and crushingly loud, coming from all around him. Every tree, every blade of grass, the very air spoke with the being’s voice. “Oh, but I don’t even care about my own life, why would I care about yours?”

Despite the roaring volume, the voice was achingly soft, like sweet nothings whispered in Geralt’s ear. The petals brushed Geralt’s cheek like a lover’s caress.

Geralt’s heart pounded in his chest, like a drum, growing faster each second, it’s rhythm dictated by the song that made this creature be.

“There must be something – how can a life be meaningless to you?” Geralt’s voice broke and his eyes flickered over to Ciri again. The child he hadn’t wanted. The life he had tried to push as far from his path as he could.

A sharp sound pierced the air, reverberating in Geralt’s bones. Only when it cut off abruptly, did Geralt recognise it. A laugh, devoid of life or joy.

“I am a phoenix, my dear.” The endearment cut into Geralt, broke him apart, made him wish that he could be more – that he could be found. “Death is just an insect to me – it stings, but has no lasting effect.”

“Liar.” The rasped out word cut through the symphony of sound.

Within the blink of an eye, everything around him stilled. The wind was still moving the petals and leaves. The being’s shape was still changing, and yet, there was no sound. Nothing, but Geralt’s own heartbeat and his blood rushing in his ears.

Then-

“What did you call me?”

It was only a single voice, within Geralt’s mind. A helpless desperation clung to it. A hunger.

“I called you a liar.”

“I cannot lie.”

Geralt’s jaw clenched and he forced himself to stare up at the swirling shape.

“Then you are a fool, if you truly believe your own words.” His hands trembled and he had to clench them into fists. Each word he spoke, dug his own grave deeper and yet, he couldn’t stop. It was as if there was something tying him to this creature, something telling him that he could know them, just as he was certain the creature knew him. “If death is like the sting of an insect to you, then it is more than just a passing irritation. Adults still remember when they had been stung by a bee as a child. Warriors flinch back from wasps, even knowing the stinging will pass. Gnat’s bites will itch for weeks.”

“Pretty words for a man who had first used his sword before attempting to speak. Yet the cut of your words hurts me as little as your sword did.” The caress of the petals left Geralt and he nearly found himself following their receding touch. “I do not care for my death, nor do I for my life.”

“Then why am I still alive? If life and death doesn’t matter to you, then why did you not just end mine?”

Unless…

I don’t even care about my own life, why would I care about yours?

They had never said they didn’t care about Geralt’s life. It had been a question – unable to either be a lie or a truth.

The only life they didn’t care about was their own.

It didn’t make sense. And yet, as minutes, days, an eternity passed and the being still hadn’t taken on a new shape, a vessel for their new life, no doubt was left in Geralt’s mind.

“Then let me give you something else,” Geralt whispered, his mind racing. In the stories, the creatures entrapping children in their realm and bargaining for their lives only ever wanted one thing. “If you let her go, I will give you my name.”

Something changed in the air. An almost palpable tension pressed down on Geralt, making it hard to notice anything around him but the dancing petals.

“Oh, my White Wolf.” The name the being spoke wasn’t Geralt’s name, and yet Geralt felt a tugging in his chest, a soothing caress, a gentle promise. It felt like his. And it felt like the being’s. “I already have your name.”

“Then what do you want? What…” Geralt trailed off, only now noticing the hint of something heavy in the being’s voice. It had Geralt’s name. Yet, Geralt had no way of referring to the creature. He didn’t know them. Perhaps no one did. “Then I give you permission to tell me your name. You may let me get to know you. You may ask to not be…to not be lost without anyone knowing who you are.”

Yearning. Hope. Helplessness.

How a being without a form could make their emotions so apparent, was beyond Geralt, but there was no denying it. The air felt lighter, the grass brighter and the silence was replaced by a soft humming, not unlike the lullaby Geralt had heard earlier. The forest was pulsating like a heart, was living off of the being’s longing to be found.

“I can’t give you my name,” the being said. “I can’t ask of you to hear it. I don’t want you to know it. I care not for my life, nor any life I’ve lived before.”

Something rose in Geralt’s chest. A fluttering, a certainty.

People linked by destiny would always find each other. This wasn’t destiny. It wasn’t any outside force pushing them together. It was two people being lost, finding each other.

Two creatures, inhuman in their own way, feared by those who didn’t understand with no one to care enough about who they were. Neither of them had had a choice in who they wanted to become. Neither of them had chosen to be lost as they were.

The witcher, who’s name had been replaced by a hated moniker. People didn’t know him as Geralt. He was the Butcher of Blaviken.

And this being before him - this Second Chance? Who had they been? Who could they have been if they had the chance to start a life that wasn’t dictated by what they were meant to be?

“I can be your second chance,” Geralt prayed that he could be what he promised, knowing in his heart that he could. “If you won’t take my name and won’t tell me yours… I can give you a name. A new life that will be more than an itch left by an insect. More than the fear of that short sting that will end it.”

The yellow petals were back on Geralt’s face, cupping his cheeks almost reverently. In that moment, Geralt wasn’t a condemned man on the execution block anymore. He was a man on his knees, asking another being to start a new life, to bind them together in a way that felt utterly right for a reason Geralt couldn’t understand.

There was a plea in the silent touch.

“Tell it to me then.” The voice was quieter than it had been before, yet it felt more urgent than the loudest cry.

Geralt lifted his hand, laying it carefully onto the petals touching his cheeks. Yellow petals. Not tough like a dandelion forcing its way through stone paths, set on coming back to life again and again. No, these petals were different. Softer. Fragile.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, his voice laced with power he hadn’t known it could possess. Louder, he repeated, “Jaskier. I have found you. You are no longer lost.”

A tremble went through the forest. The wind stilled, but the petals didn’t fall to the ground. Instead, they finally settled on a shape.

The petals caressing Geralt’s cheeks were the first to turn, their touch becoming more solid, warmer, human.

Geralt pressed into the touch, holding the hand that formed in his. Dizziness swept over him as the form before him solidified. Green leaves turned brown as they did in autumn and turned into hair. Petals became red and gave shape to a mouth that was stretched into a radiant smile. Grass turned into fabric, dressing the person whose life was just beginning in an embroidered doublet. A tree bent down, its bark peeling off and turning into an instrument, that the person deftly caught in one hand, the other never straying from Geralt’s face.

Then, the human opened their eyes. Blue again but lacking the eerie otherness. And yet, they were brighter than before, so full of life and for once filled with anticipation of what this life would bring.

This life that Geralt had given them.

Before Geralt stood no longer a phoenix, a creature with no name. They were their own second chance. They were Jaskier.

Even as Ciri rushed from behind Jaskier and flung herself into Geralt’s arms, the witcher couldn’t tear his eyes away from Jaskier.

The new human looked at Ciri with a fond expression on their face, and yet there was a strain around their eyes.

When their gazes met, Jaskier’s lips tugged into a small smile.

“I guess I kept my promise then,” they said in a voice that held no power, but made Geralt’s heart skip a beat nonetheless. “I kept he safe until she was found.”

Geralt’s brows drew together. “You intended to let her go? Then why –“

“I didn’t bargain her life,” Jaskier said softly. “She was free to go whenever she pleased. I – I wasn’t. You gave me my life and I give it back to you. If you want it.”

Without thinking, Geralt shook his head and tightened his arms around Ciri.

“I don’t want your life. It is yours.”

“Oh.”

Jaskier’s lips moved silently, forming the word ‘mine’, as if testing it out for the first time. A smile lit up their face, making their eyes brighter.

“If my life is mine, does that mean, I can choose where I want to go?”

Something twisted in Geralt’s chest at those words. “You are.” Had Jaskier only ever known this forest? If so… “Do you know any place besides this? Will you…if you leave on your own, will you get lost again?”

A gleam entered Jaskier’s eyes and they slung the strap of their lute around their neck, their fingers finding the strings of their new lute.

“I won’t,” they said, their face set in conviction. “Because if I get to choose where I am going, I will be following you, Geralt of Rivia, my White Wolf.”

Unlike before, there was no power to the way Jaskier spoke his name.

“White Wolf?”

Jaskier’s lips twitched and he plucked a couple of chords experimentally. “You have me a new name. If you don’t want my life, the least I can do is return the favour and give you a new one two. A name, people won’t curse. One that will no longer belong to a lost man.”

No longer a Butcher. No longer a mutant, bastard, monster!

Slowly, Geralt nodded. “A life for a life, then.”

“A life for a life.” Jaskier’s expression softened. “A name for a name.”

Two lost people finding each other, silently promising each other to do everything in their power to not let the other get lost again.

#thank you for the prompt!!#fae!jaskier #fey!jaskier #*gestures vaguely*!Jaskier #geralt of rivia #geralt #jaskier #creature!jaskier #fic #my writing #witcher #the witcher #witcher fic #prompt #ciri #geraskier #kinda #i have no idea what this is but it was fun to write

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kikyan · 3 years

Text

Izaya Ending

His ending is here along with the smut! MDI after the cut! ALSO I RLLY HAD TO HAVE A FRIEND HELP ME WITH THE SMUT CUZ I WAS SO EMBARRASED TO WRITE IT ALL OMFG-

TW: Dub-con! Degration! Name calling! Oral Sex (both giving and receiving)! Collar! Choking! Vaginal Sex/Penetration! Think that’s it if not lmk!

ALSO I RLLY USED THE MOST WATTPAD BASIC ASS LANGUAGE FOR THIS SMUT THIS IS HOW YOU KNOW THIS SHIT WAS WRITTEN YEARS AGO

PART ONE

“Oh? It seems he even has the Dollars searching for you!”

“ Izaya, please I apologize for anything that I did that caused you to do this, but I need to get back to Shizuo!”

“ And do what? Apologize for my actions and say everything is fine? You truly are different than other humans (Y/N)! Besides, does Shizu-chan know?”

“ K-know what?”

“You can drop the act. I know who you are (Y/N) or should I sa-?!”

“ Izaya, I won’t ask you again. Please, I apologize for what I said or did but I must return to my fiance.”

“ I can’t do that (Y/N). You thought you had me fool, no you thought you had the whole world fooled, but unlike Shizu-chan, I know the real you. You are far too unique, too precious to be in the hands of that brute, that damned monster!”

“ IZAYAAAAAA! GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE AND GIVE ME MY DAMN FIANCE!”

“ Speak of the Devil, he really did arrive, didn’t he? (Y/N) it’s better if you stay, wait no- I want you to see God punish his worthless creation, than have his Goddess forgive him and the cycle continues!”

Grabbing her arm, (Y/N) was dragged to the door where Shizuo lay in waiting/ Shizuo’s eyes lit up with hope as (Y/N) arrived, quickly scanning her to ensure that she was not harmed by Izaya.

“ This is low, even for you Izaya. What the hell do you want anyway?”

“ I want (Y/N) of course! How rude of you to keep her from society, from me! She is too perfect, in fact, she is perfection! I can’t stand you of all people, a damn monster near her!”

“ If I am a monster, what the hell does that make you?”

“ That hurt Shizu-chan, but I’m sure my goddess, (Y/N) would forgive you nonetheless!”

Grabbing a stop sign Shizuo prepared to swing at Izaya before seeing (Y/N) duck down.

‘This is too dangerous for (Y/N)! I have to lead him away. . .’

“ You see (Y/N)! This monster swung at you! I told you, he would only hurt you! Stay with me, my Goddess!”

Taking his knife out, he swung it at Shizuo cutting him horizontally across his chest. As Shizuo remained unfazed he swung the sign hitting Izaya as well sending him flying back inside the apartment complex. As Izaya got up and grabbed the knife and (Y/N), before placing the knife under (Y/N)’s throat causing her to panic slightly.

“ (Y/N)! Izaya you damned bastard! Let her go, that’s low. . .”

“ It’s fine! Besides, my Goddess is so forgiving, I'm sure she will let this slide! In fact, I feel as if instead of the way I initially thought, it was you Shizuo who used (Y/N)!”

Catching him off guard Shizuo looked down from (Y/N) with a hurtful expression as he pondered if he did truly use her as Izaya said.

“ Kid. . . ding. . .!”

With that Izaya took this time to spin (Y/N) from his hold and bolted to Shizuo, knife ready and a gun to end this beast’s life. As Shizuo looked up he failed to notice the blade approaching fast, approaching close to his eye until it did, leading to Izaya stabbing Shizuo in the eye causing him to crouch down in pain and hold his eye that was bleeding profusely. Izaya held the gun on his forehead before looking down with insanity filled eyes and a smile to top off the look.

“ Shizuo, let’s ask (Y/N) if she forgives you for using her?”

Turning to the side he was met with (Y/N) sobbing as she looked at him straight in the eyes before blurting out, “ Izaya, please! Leave Shizuo alone! He did nothing wrong! I’ll do whatever you want me to do just please leave him b-!?”

“ Oh but (Y/N), you already are. He did nothing wrong? That sounds like forgiveness! Now Shizuo, any last words?”

Turning slightly noticing he lost the battle and that Izaya won, he mumbled a small “ I love you (Y/N), forgive me” before having his life taken away as well as his fiance.

“ SHIZUO!”

(Y/N) ran to catch his body as she sobbed louder before clutching his arm, the one that held his engagement ring. Looking at his corpse (Y/N) continued saying “I FORGIVE YOU I’M SORRY PLEASE, PLEASE COME BACK!”

“ Heh. . . hehe, ha, haha, HAHAHAAHAHAHA! THIS IS SPLENDID! THIS IS GREAT! THAT DAMNED MONSTER IS GONE! MY GODDESS IS MINE AND MINE ONLY NOW! HEY (Y/N), YOU FORGIVE ME, RIGHT? I MEAN, ON THE BRIGHT SIDE NOW THERE ISN’T A SHIZUO TO EDGE ON, RIGHT?”

“ . . . I-I-I-I-I. . . I f-forgive y-you. . . I forgive you Izaya. . .”

“ SEE I KNEW IT! ISN’T MY GODDESS WONDERFUL? NO MATTER THE CRIME SHE WILL ALWAYS FORGIVE! OH (Y/N) YOU TRULY ARE SPECIAL AND ONE OF A KIND!”

Crouching down to hug (Y/N) from behind, Izaya smiled before speaking.

“ Indeed (Y/N), you truly are special! Who would have guessed in a million years that I would meet the one who changed me! The one who became my goddess, the one who made me see humanity in a new light!”

“ I-I-Izaya. . . why me. . .?

“ Why you ask? Simple, it’s because . . . yOu’Re My FaVoRiTe HuMaN~”

Standing on the rooftop Izaya was speaking with a female in pigtails as he began to tell her that she wasn’t really planning on killing herself and that she had one or two secrets that she didn’t tell anyone, so if her parents had one. . . what was the big deal?

“ All humans lie, hide things, no one really makes it through this life being completely honest. Everyone's the same, no exceptions! Well, that is what I thought until I met (Y/N) (l/n) but I’ll let her do the rest from here on out. What you choose to do is on you in the end so choose carefully~!”

Walking out to the edge with the girl (Y/N) looks and stares at the blood splatter as she turns to her and says, “ we humans will commit the worst of crimes, murder, robbery, rape, you name it. Though, the biggest crime any human can commit and go about not knowing is lying to yourself and making a mistake thinking it will solve the issue. Do not fear, I am not judging you I just want you to know, no matter what you choose to do tonight, I forgive you and I assure you, a second chance is waiting for you all! So please, on the bright side, you now know what is happening and now you know what you can do to change it!”

The girl began to sob as she clutched onto (Y/N) sobbing and pouring her heart out with her smiling as she looked at the girl. After some time she finally left and (Y/N) looked up to the moon before hearing Izaya speak once again before hugging her and smiling.

“ Who would have known, so tell me is this you speaking (Y/N)? Or is it Saika?”

“ You can rest assure it’s me Izaya, but please don’t mention Saika.”

“ I never imagined someone as happy and cheerful as you to wield Saika, more importantly, go through something as traumatic as you have. Oh well, that’s life I guess! I’ll be waiting by the door whenever you wish to leave my Goddess. . .”

“ Alright. . .”

As (Y/N) stared at the moon and then the red blood splatter she began to recall that memory, that small memory that started it all.

In a small room all alone lived a young girl in her ‘timeout punishment’ as they called it. It was actually isolation, for three days the young girl hasn’t eaten and was barely drinking enough water to stay alive, but who was she to complain? Looking out she saw several children walking around and playing and it began to sadden the young girl as she could not join them for a small game of tag. Her mother was most likely with some other man and so was her father. As they argued and took out their stress out on other people, such as their daughter (Y/N), they failed to realize the young girl apologize for everything.

Blood stained the nice mats and floors as two bodies lay on top of each other with wounds in their stomachs causing their entrails to leap out.

“ I’m sorry mother and father! I apologize, if I wasn’t so weak then this never would have happened. On the bright side, I have freedom now! I also heard that I can play with the neighborhood kids too! Ah, don’t look at me like that mom! I know that I caused you so much pain, but you did too! I know for a fact that I should have done so much more but it’s fine mother! Father was upset when I defied the orders but then again father always got mad! I ended up reading a book on how to make friends and it said that I should try to make them happy and if I make them sad to apologize! I love people mom and dad! I’m scared they won’t like me or worse hate me! Which is why I need to make them happy, which is why I need to be happy! I don’t know when they are sad so I will just apologize if I do something you would disapprove of mom, dad!”

Looking down from the moon (Y/N) smiled before turning to face Izaya and walking side by side. He too was hurt and didn’t know how else to cope so it was fine! Besides, you’ve made so many friends so any sacrifice that was paid was rightfully paid! After all, you were his goddess and he treated you like one! You’ve made so many friends so it’s been working right! Well whatever, just remember that (Y/N) is afraid of people hating her and never wanting her, so treat a friend right before you start to see not only you fall but they themselves.

“ What are you thinking about (Y/N)?”

“ Nothing much Izaya, c’mon let’s go home if that’s all. I still have dinner to make!”

“Indeed, so what are we making?”

“ well, what’s your favorite meal?”

“Well, what was Shizu-chan’s favorite meal?”

“ Well. . . if you want we can make that. . .”

“ Then it’s settled! Hey (Y/N). . . you don’t hold it against me for killing Shizu-chan do you?”

(Y/N) turned to look at Izaya who held the same crazed expression as he did when he pulled the trigger. Shaking her head (Y/N) looked up to smile at Izaya before mouthing, ‘I forgive you Iza-chan!”

Smiling at the nickname he approached the girl standing before him as he grabbed her by the waist before kissing her softly. Soon after the kiss turned heated as his tongue found its way next to the girls as their tongues entwined together. Feeling the need to breathe, they separated as their only connection was the string of saliva that hung from both of their lips.

" You are just so forgiving and unpredictable. . . It's exciting to see what our dear (Y/N)-chan will do when faced with a predicament but I think it's more exciting to see how much you of all people can hold on, can withstand before you break! Don't worry my Goddess, because you have me to help you!"

"Thank you Iza-chan! I appreciate that you will make me happy as much as I make you happy!"

Grabbing the (h/c) haired female, Izaya began to walk downstairs with his goddess in hand as his mind raced and began to wonder, how far would your relationship with Shizuo last, that is if he was still alive? Well, whatever the case was, Izaya wasn't going to lose to Shizuo so with a sadistic, yet smug grin, he turned to the female he held in his hand and said,

"(Y/N) - Chan. . . How does a baby sound to you?"

Pushing Y/N onto the bed, Izaya began to remove his jacket. Pressing kisses onto her neck, mumbling to himself about how this child would be absolutely perfect.

"I-Iza. . .?"

"Shh. . . (Y/N) - Chan~ don't worry~ The pain you will experience will only make you stronger, our baby will be the summit of all of humanity. Our child will be born to be the perfect mix of our best qualities.”

"Iza. . . I-I. . . If you want a baby then I'll give you one, I'll give birth to our baby. . ."

" Perfect~ Just to make sure that monster hasn't tainted you, he didn't touch you did he?"

"No. . . We decided to wait till marriage. . . But it's fine Iza! I mean the one I love is well. . . you isn't it?"

Not liking the response the young girl gave him Izaya smirked before turning to a straight face filled with anger and lust.

"That's perfect!~ That means I'll be your first right (Y/N)-chan?"

“O-Of course! You’ll be my very first Iza!”

"That's perfect! (Y/N), you should do more than love me, you should worship you me like your God, your savior, and your salvation. So until then, until I know I have your life, love, admiration, and belief, you are just a lowly human that doesn't deserve my attention."

"Iza! I'm sorry for what I said, but I hope you still know I love y-!?"

"Apologizing isn't enough (Y/N) - Chan!~ You need to show me you mean it! Show me your love, your faith, show me who you belong to, lowly human. . . "

" W-w-what should I do?"

"Well. . . That's up to you to decide! I'm sure Shizuo asked you to do something naughty before right~"

"W-w-well t-t-that's-!?"

" So you aren't denying it! Well, I guess I'll have you so the same but show more devotion to me! Show me your love!"

Understanding what he meant (Y/N) turned to the side before nodding and proceeded to get off the bed getting on the floor before nearing Izaya again.

Izaya began to smirk seeing how submissive (Y/N) was acting and decided to edge her on more.

"Let's make a bet (Y/N) chan~"

"A bet?"

(Y/N) tilted her head slightly adding to her "cute" factor causing Izaya to smirk seeing how he was about to taint his Goddess before that monster did.

"Yes! Let's see. . . Oh! I know! If you can show me your faith by simply being a little naughty then I'll reward you! If not, you'll get punished!"

"P-p-punished?!"

(Y/N) scared expression causing Izaya to harden upon her expression.

"After all, a lowly human like you has to be punished already for doubting in your God! Now (Y/N) - Chan, let's start!"

(Y/N) began to near Izaya's jeans and nervously began to unbuckle them before turning away with red dusting her facial features.

"Aww is a sinner embarrassed to face her punishment? Her God?"

Nodding slowly, (Y/N) began to turn around to face Izaya who was smirking as he saw the young girl timidly stare at his erect member.

(Y/N) began to fumble with his boxers as she blushed before thinking about the previous time she did something like this. It was late afternoon, Shizuo and (Y/N) had a mini drinking competition which lead to some intense moments. As soon as her mind came back to her she realized that Izaya's member was exposed and she was staring at it.

A small chuckle brought her out of her daze before she remembered that she needed to do this, to avoid punishment, she didn't mind doing what she was going to do, but if she didn't do well, she was going to be punished and she feared that a lot more.

(Y/N) began to near his member and placed a small kiss upon the tip causing Izaya to shift a little as he stared at the female below him as she nervously wrapped her lips about his member, begin to slowly suck on it.

Izaya tilted his head back as he tried to silence his moans. His Goddess was tempting him, in fact, he had to restrain himself from taking her then and there.

"A-a-ah. . . (Y/N)-c-chan. . . ~"

Letting small moans escape his mouth he looked down to see the young female, she was red from embarrassment and small tears slipping from her eyes as she continued to tease the young male.

As the female began to suck a little harder, Izaya bit his lip but it was futile as he huffed a little before letting out soft moans.

"(Y/N) - chan!~ I-I-I a-a-ahh~"

Letting his lust get the best of him he grabbed (Y/N)'s hair and pushed her mouth further in causing her to choke a little and to deep throat him. Getting used to his length was difficult for the young girl as she was trying to match the speed of his forcefulness and her own.

Izaya was shaking a little as he began to chuckle as he stared deep into the girl’s eyes before whispering and grunting a little in response.

"S-so (Y/N)-chan. . No more like a lowly human. . . Do you believe that was enough? Are you going to finish and follow through with your punishment?"

(Y/N) continued to suck on his member before hearing more smaller grunts indicating he was close and he was. Izaya was blushing as he continued biting his lip, although this degrading was a big turn on for him and hopefully his "lowly human" he couldn't conceal his excitement as he let one more moan out before releasing inside the girl’s mouth.

"Swallow."

(Y/N), already a step ahead, began to swallow the male’s cum making sure to get any leftovers around her mouth.

"Good job, but I still didn't feel your devotion, your faith in your actions. Nonetheless, I did feel pleasure, so I'll reward you my lowly human~"

Izaya began to reach for a collar of some sort before showing it off to (Y/N). As she soon understood the message she allowed him to place it on her, she made sure her hair wasn't a bother as she allowed Izaya to gently place it around her neck. Soon after it was placed Izaya noticed how the collar had a circular ring piece in the center and as he smirked he allowed his fingers to wrap around the ring before yanking it causing (Y/N) to jerk forward and meeting his hungry gaze.

"You were so good, but not good enough. . . Out of my utter kindness as your God. . . I'll pleasure you as well lowly human."

"I-Iza. . . I-I-I l-love y-yo-?!"

"THROUGH ACTION! NOT WORDS, ACTION!"

Izaya grabbed the collar and dragged you to the bed, not before turning and witnessing your red face, you were being slightly choked due to the tightness of the collar, small tears from the previous event and the biggest turn on, you were drooling a bit and it was so cute, like a little ahegao face.

" You look so fucking hot, are you tempting me? Do you wish to seduce me and make me forget your crimes? Well, that won't work human, but that doesn't mean I can't play with you~"

"I-Izaya w-what are you doin- a-a-ahh~"

Small moans escaped from the girl’s mouth as Izaya began to kiss her, his tongue entering her mouth and slowly melting together with hers causing ultimate bliss. Halfway during the kiss, Izaya's hands wandered downwards to the girl’s jeans before he unbuckled them and proceeded to pull them down causing the girl to gasp.

"Izaya! W-wait!?"

" I believe you mean God~"

(Y/N)'s jeans were removed as Izaya's fingers began to near her clothed womanhood. As he massaged your clit through your (f/c) underwear he smirked as he saw his goddess bright red and soft moans and mewling sounds as he made her feel pleasure. Soon after his fingers made it inside and he massaged her womanhood with much ease and it drove poor (Y/N) crazy.

"I-Izaya. . ."

" I think you mean God my lowly human!~"

"G-God. . . I-I f-feel strange. . ."

" Not yet! Don't tell me that's all! Well, I guess I better start!"

Izaya neared (Y/N) womanhood as his tongue went to meet her clit and massaged it ever so gently. Making sure she could experience everything he made sure to hold onto her thighs before sucking and nibbling lightly against the bundle of nerves. Causing her back to arch, (Y/N) moaned in pleasure before Izaya began to change not only where he was attacking but the speed. He slid his tongue up and down one last time before he used his tongue to plunge into (Y/N) womanhood. His tongue went in and out of you as you moaned loudly, it was driving you over the edge. Soon after he stopped before getting up and returning back to his position, straddling you but he replaced his tongue with his finger gaining more access. To start off "soft" he allowed two fingers to access the girl plunging them in and out at a small pace before adding another and going faster causing the girl to moan and turn to face her God.

" I-I-I f-feel f-funny. . ."

" It's only a matter of time, my dear human."

(Y/N) began to feel a knot in her abdomen, it was getting more intense and tight with each time his fingers went inside of her. As she was reaching the point of no return he began to speed up as (Y/N) let out one more moan before her body trembled as her eyes slightly rolled back as her juices sprayed everywhere especially on Izaya's fingers. Izaya smirked before seductively removing his finger from inside of (Y/N) and licked them before smiling softly. He leaned down to whisper,

"That was amazing! You taste so sweet I can't get enough of it!~ but. . . I think it's time we moved onto the main event don't you think, my lowly human, my little slut. . ."

It was only at this point that (Y/N) noticed the mirror facing the bed. It was a large, floor mirror that gave the observer a good view of the bed. It hadn’t been there before meaning one thing: Izaya had bought it just for this event.

“Ah, I see you’ve noticed it, finally! The perfect instrument for this night of trial! It’s there to test you, you see. . .”

Izaya’s hands snaked around (Y/N) to the back of her shirt. From there, he pulled one of the straps holding her shirt up, letting the tie unravel.

“You didn’t really think that our fun, little night would end here, did you? I said we were gonna have a main event; an event with a special little treat for you, my lowly slut. Take it all off, we shouldn’t waste any time!”

(Y/N) sat up in shock. Izaya was being too candid, too forward. The darkness of the room led to Izaya’s face having dark shadows. The look made him too lustful and brought a familiar knot to (Y/N)’s abdomen.

Leaning in, Izaya whispered, “Hurry up.”

With shaking hands, (Y/N) brought her hands to her top and took it off in one swoop. The air suddenly surrounded her and she felt ever colder. The easy part was over, but now came the bra. She had been dying to take it off ever since they arrived home, but she couldn’t have expected that it would be in this situation.

She could feel her face flushing red as she undid the hooks behind her back. She couldn’t bear to face Izaya, but she could still feel his lustful gaze directed towards her. She could feel him surveying every part of her body in arousal.

When she finally slipped the garment off, her body may have been cold but she could still feel the heat pouring between her legs. The air enveloped her body and made her nipples harden up. They perked up even more when Izaya brought his face closer to her.

“No matter what, I want you to look at me. It’s the very least a whore like you can do during this. If you can prove yourself through this, then you’ll get through this next trial~”

Without breaking his gaze, Izaya began to descend upon her chest. Taking one bud into his mouth, he began to swirl his tongue around it. His other hand pinched the remaining nipple and worked together to create a rhythm. Popping it out of his mouth, he bit into the skin around (Y/N)’s chest before moving on to the opposite bud. The sensation made her mind cloud and her mouth threatened to let moans escape. Every part of her body was on fire.

“Mmm. . . Is this pleasurable for you? Are you enjoying it? Don’t forget, my little bitch, that you have to prove your love for me. How devoted are you really?”

“Izaya, I-”

“How many times do I have to say this, (Y/N), only through your actions. Hm. . . Maybe a little punishment will help set you straight?”

Izaya kneeled up from the bed, pulling (Y/N)’s collar with it. The collar constricted around her neck, bringing a wave of euphoria as she was choked for those few seconds as he filled the two of them, leading to Y/N being on top of Izaya.

“Don’t think this is how we end it. Just for now, you’re nothing more than a slave with a hole. If you ever want to be anything more, prove it.”

Staring at him for a few seconds, (Y/N) was in disbelief of what she was hearing. Did Izaya really believe that, that she was just a warm hole for him? And she already sucked him off, what more did she have to prove?”

“Well go on, prove your devotion to your god, to your complete master.”

(Y/N) knew what she had to do. Her whole body was shaking as she lifted herself on top of Izaya. She could feel her cunt getting wetter by the second, almost soaking Izaya’s midsection. She couldn’t believe that she was doing this with Izaya, much less how obedient she was. It was her first time, she should be hesitant! Maybe she had been secretly wanting this for so long?

Once she was in position, she began to lower herself onto Izaya’s member before being stopped by Izaya.

“Ah, ah, ah, did you think that this is your only punishment? No, no, no! Turn around, (Y/N), face the mirror. If you dare to look away for even a split second, your god will make sure you get disciplined.”

(Y/N) found it good to not upset Izaya. That would be an adventure for another time. Hesitantly, (Y/N) turned around to look at herself in the mirror. When she saw herself, she couldn’t believe the state of her appearance. (Y/N) looked like an arousing mess. Her hair was messy, but it looked artistic in a way. Her hairs were jumbled up and her lips were swollen. Her chest was flushed, riddled with hickeys and as hard as ever.

“Remember what I said~”

Filled with determination, (Y/N) rose onto her Izaya and steadied herself. She lowered herself onto Izaya’s member, sliding it in with ease. It hurt a lot at the start, but the pain went away and was quickly replaced with arousal. (Y/N) felt like a crab, looking at herself in the mirror. It was uncomfortable to watch, but she didn’t dare disobey Izaya.

She started moving up and down, watching as her breasts bounced along with her body. Izaya laid below her, helping her along by holding her waist. His fingers dug into her sides, making her squirm around. If only she could see him, what face would he be making?

The room was echoing the moans of both (Y/N) and Izaya. He stayed silent, except for his grunts and the occasional moan. That, along with the sight of such a lewd image right before her eyes, made the knot in her stomach grow and grow.

The wet claps grew within the room, along with Izaya’s heightened pace. Now, his nails dug into her sides but she didn’t dare comment on it. (Y/N) was too distracted by the intensity of her senses. Her hair started to stick onto her face and she found herself moving into Izaya’s thrusts. Her arms were burning from the position, she kept trying to adjust herself into a better position.

Izaya’s hands briefly left her waist to play with her breasts some more, before returning to add some much-needed support. The clapping now was wetter, almost sounding empty and echoey. (Y/N)’s abdomen could feel herself tightening around Izaya, but the position just wasn’t enough. Lifting herself up more, she raised her heels and put all her balance on the balls of her feet. The position was just enough and to add more friction, pounding Izaya in further.

She lowered her hand to play with her clit before her own hand was replaced by Izaya. He said nothing as he played with her folds, rubbing and tugging at it with ways that sent (Y/N) into a frenzy. Her legs twitched and shook, threatening to compromise her position.

Soon, the passion was more than (Y/N) could withstand. She came all over Izaya, feeling the liquid flow out of her. Her vision blurred and she could feel chills wash over her body. Between her legs, it felt as if everything was pulsating and her heart was ringing in her ears. Izaya followed shortly afterwards, removing himself from her insides and letting her fall onto her side.

His arm snaked around (Y/N) once more, pulling her closer.

“Guess what, my sweet (Y/N). You passed! You managed to catch my attention through that amazing performance! What do you think?”

(Y/N) had no thought within her mind. The pulsating still hadn’t gone away and the fluid between her legs still felt sticky. If there was one thing she knew, it was that this baby would certainly end up interesting.

#yandere #yandere durarara #yandere durarara x reader #yandere izaya #yandere izaya orihara #yandere izaya x reader #yandere izaya orihara x reader #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere anime #yandere headcannons #yandere imagines #yandere fanfiction

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justasimptm · 3 years

Text

The Bride C5

The next few weeks pass by in a blur, mother, as promised, got me new blades, coated with something special she said he won’t be able to control. I get the distinct feeling of eyes on me in that time, but every time I look, there’s nobody around. Shaking off the feeling as paranoia I decide it’s time to get ready for the day, calling in one of the maids to help me dress. The poor girl is quaking in her boots and I end up doing half the work myself, from tightening my corset to fixing the pins in my hair that she carelessly dug into my skull. The unfortunate side of having to do most of it myself, is that my corset doesn’t quite where it’s supposed to be, it's tight enough to stay on but still feels loose, the straps not quite in the right spot, the pins holding my hair back aren’t stable enough.

I know she tried, but with each time she went to fix something she just made it worse and I ended up yelling at her. Telling her to get out and to go be useless somewhere else. She squeaked like a frightened mouse and all but sprinted from the room, leaving the door wide open in her wake. I’m about to call for another maid when Daniela swarms in-quite literally too. She’s already laughing as she reforms, her arms crossed, and a condescending smirk on her face.

“Oh my, you look like someone ran you over. That’s embarrassing,” She chuckles, moving closer to me to assess the damage. She lifts her hand to prod at something she sees, but I’m quick to smack her hand away. Rolling her eyes at my reaction she steps back, turning around and skimming my room.

“What do you want, Daniela?” I snap, standing up and moving to block her path as she starts towards my bookshelf. She had zeroed in on our old family album, something she hadn’t seen before, and something I wasn’t about to let her defile. My mother might call her ‘daughter’ but she would never truly be a Dimitrescu, so she has no reason to look at things pertaining to us. She chuffs quietly, narrowing her eyes at me before they dart back to the album.

“Mother told me to let you know that Mother Miranda wants you to meet her at the church. Apparently there’s been progress.” My stomach drops at her words. Progress? What could she need me for if it’s working? Why is it working? “And she wants you now, so you have to go, looking like that. Have fun!” She cackles, swarming and flying from the room. I curse loudly, glancing at myself in the mirror. I look like a mess, and there’s no time to fix it. Grabbing a shawl I throw it around my shoulder, tying it above my chest, which helps hide most of the damage. There’s definitely not enough time to fix my hair, but as quick as I can I pull out some of the pins, dropping them onto my vanity and storming from the room.

I would swarm there, but it won’t take long to walk it and hopefully that’ll give me time to get somewhat presentable. I don’t see my mother or any of the others on my way out, a small relief which ends up ending abruptly when I reach the front gates and I hear a loud snort. I spin so fast I genuinely trip, twisting my ankle and dropping like a rock with a sharp gasp. The force of the ground jolts me, leaving me briefly dazed as I wonder how the hell I just managed to do that. Boisterous laughter tears me from my thoughts and my eyes snap up, locking on the source. And of course, it’s Heisenberg, damn near doubled over. My cheeks warm, and it takes everything in me to force my embarrassment down as I shove myself back up, brushing off my dress and returning to trying to fix myself.

“What are you doing here, Heisenberg? My mother isn’t expecting you and I doubt she’ll be pleased finding out you were lurking on our property without invitation.” I sneer, twisting my hands around as I try to find the angle to get my hair pin to stay without slipping, which is far more difficult without a mirror, might I add. He reaches up to his face, pulling his dark colored glasses off and wiping fake tears from his eyes before sliding them back into place. The glimpse of his full face unobstructed surprises me, he always keeps those glasses on, always hides his eyes from us, like they’re the lock to his secrets. Suddenly it feels like my hair pin is moving itself, angle changing midpush, stopping before I finish moving it but effectively keeping my hair back from my face. Did he just-

“You look like you’re struggling a bit there, darlin’.” He smirks, crossing his arms, “I can help with that.” As he continues I feel the metal ends of my corset laces move, the steel boning tighten and the ties pulling it into place, nearly knocking the wind from my lungs from the shock of it. It takes seconds for the knots to be put back into the correct place, everything now fitting the way it should. I open my mouth to yell at him, feeling both defiled and somehow comfortable, but he cuts me off before I get the chance to be worked up. “Look, sweetheart. You can tell me all you want that I had no right to do that, whatever. I was just saving you some embarrassment. Mother Miranda sent me up to walk you to the church. Direct quote, ‘since those lycans are your responsibility, go fetch her and escort her to our meeting so they don’t hurt her, we will finish our discussion when you both return.’” My jaw drops slightly, Daniela didn’t tell me he was going to be at the meeting, and she definitely knew. Of course she didn’t tell me, why would she miss an opportunity to make me look like an idiot. Straightening my back I nod my head at him, dropping my hands back down to my sides.

“Alright. Let’s go then,” I say, starting towards the church, I barely get a step before I’m stopped, not by his words but by the boning in my corset, which essentially drags me backwards towards his side. I gasp in shock at his actions, unable to stop my movements as he pulls me. He holds me still a few feet from him, looking me up and down.

“What do you say to me for helping you?” He growls, grinning ever so slightly. Frustration drops over me like a wave as I seethe at him. The audacity of this man to feel he’s entitled to not only adjust my clothing without my permission, but to then demand praise for it? A small part of me is amazed at how he’s able to keep me from moving, even though he only has a hold over my torso. Sensing my struggle he steps closer to me, nearly able to feel his breath on my cheek. “Come on now, it’s not that hard.” My lips turned down into a sneer for a split second before I conceded.

“Thank you for helping me, now let me go.” I spit, anger nearly boiling, mixed with the unsettling feeling that he can literally hold me still without even touching me. I’ll have to get a corset with different boning. His smile is filled with ego, so much so that it’s a wonder he hasn't choked on it yet, and he releases his telepathic grasp on me.

“That’s much better, I’m glad to see your mother taught you manners, one less thing for me to do.” With that closing statement he backs up a pace before starting down the path towards the decrepit church. “Keep up, sweetheart.”

Heisenberg’s POV

Seeing her scrambling out of that fortress, looking equally frazzled and nervous, part of me is alarmingly amused but also endeared. The stormy glare she fires at me only makes both parts grow warmly. Once she accepts that I’m going to help her and she stops lying, I think she and I will get along swell. The small gasps she lets out as I fix the pin in her hair and tighten her corset send a familiar but long forgotten spike up my spine. I never expected to have that reaction to someone, not after I was made into this, let alone her. Not that bitch’s daughter. But nonetheless, somehow it was true.

Dragging her close to me, watching her cheeks flush despite the fact she’s clearly trying to force it down. Still she thanks me, through gritted teeth and layers of disgust and emotion. A feeling of smug satisfaction swirls in my chest as I release her, watching her droop slightly, seemingly both calmer and slightly disappointed.

@foggyturtleknightangel

#Karl Heisenberg x reader #heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg #re8 karl heisenberg #re8 #re village #lady dimitrescu

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 2 years

Text

Soft Hands - Part 5

ʚ P.O.V. : Aphrodite

ʚ Summary : Ares tries to cook for Aphrodite. They talk, and both feel something between them.

ʚ Warning / Themes: Fluff | Soft | Ansgt | Marital infidelity

The place Ares called home was spartan at best. Clean and well kept, but bare, devoid of any warmth or feeling.

"Please, excuse the sparse arrangements," Ares mumbled as I took in everything I set my eyes on. "I have never developed a talent for baubles and finery."

He was right. And yet, this place felt more welcoming than my own home.

Ares looked around as if wondering what he should do next. "Would you like to join me in the kitchen? I find it is much warmer in there."

"The kitchen would do nicely for me."

He looked pleased as he showed me the way. "I hope you do not mind simple fair," he says. "If I try to make anything too elaborate I might end up burning the kitchen down. I almost did once, and Athena has never let me live it down."

"Perhaps I can help you," said I. "With the food, I mean. I have been told that I am a good cook."

He gives me a measured look, then grins. "All right," Ares opens the door to the kitchen and looks around for the aprons. "Dazzle me with your skills, oh lady of love and beauty."

There was no maliciousness in his tone. No ill will. Truth to be told, I found myself liking his company. "Prepare to be dazzled,” I grab the apron he gave and put it on me. “Oh lord of war.”

Ares was not jesting when he said he had no talent for baubles and finery. I find the larder bare, save for some smoked meat, a few vegetables and some herbs. No matter. I would have set myself to work had Ares not butted in. "No," He took the vegetables out of my hands to wash them himself. "Let me."

The man may not have had a talent for finery, but he certainly had a gift with blades. The vegetables were cleaned and chopped with such precision, that it left me impressed.

"I thought I was going to be the one cooking?" I cock an eyebrow while trying not to stare.

"I thought it would have been rude to let you do all the work," said he. "Especially since it was I who invited you for a meal."

I had no reply other than thank you. He smiled, truly smiled, when he looked at me. I bite back a sigh, as Hephaestus never looked at me that way.

"I should be the one thanking you," said Ares as he started cutting the meat for me. "For tending to me that day. No one had shown me such kindness before."

It saddened me, for I believed everyone was deserving of kindness. "I am sorry for that. But may I ask, why do the other Gods spurn you so?"

Ares thought about it. "It spread from my parents, really. They found it difficult to love me. The others simply followed their lead."

How was such a thing possible? "Why do they not love you?"

He stopped what he was doing and faced me. "To explain that I will have to tell you about my parents' marriage."

I nod, to encourage him to go on.

"By the time I was conceived, my father had gotten into the habit of bedding any female that caught his eye, and my mother, in her pain and anger, would unleash her vengeance on all she hated. Their marriage had turned into a poisoned prison by the time I was born, and since they barely had any love for each other, they had little to spare for me. I suppose you could say it made me what I am."

"But your mother was so kind to me," I remember Hera showing understanding to my struggles. "She..."

"My mother was kind to you because she does not like Hephaestus either. Be grateful for that."

I had nothing, except for growing anger toward my father. What did he marry me into?

"Do not worry yourself over our squabbles," Ares went back to chopping. "I do not."

My heart hurt for him all the same. To be shown no love or kindness just because he is who he is.

"You look at me like I am a wounded little bird," he mumbled. "I would rather you did not."

I have made him uncomfortable. "Forgive me for that. But to not be loved by your parents... I cannot even imagine it."

"Do you think even someone like me deserves love?"

The way he looked at me. It honestly made my heart flutter. "I do, yes."

"And you are not just saying it because you are the lady of love?"

"I mean every word." Not knowing what came over me, I reach out and touch his arm. His skin felt so warm beneath my palm. "We all deserve it. A chance, at the very least."

His eyes close as my hand moved up and brushed against his cheek. I felt a sigh as his own hand rested over mine.

"This is not right," Ares pulled away and shook his head. "I have no right. You are married to my brother."

I quickly took my hand away, my eyes stinging from reasons I cannot even fathom. Why was I upset with him pulling away?

"Please do not think I am rejecting you," Ares blurted in a rush. "I mean, it is not that I do not like you or..." He shakes his head. "What am I saying? Erm.. Let us simply enjoy our meal, and I will walk you home."

"Yes," my mind was a roil, and I needed time to clear my head and think. "That sounds like a good idea."

The rest of the evening went well and without incident. We stuck to lighter topics as we had our meal, and nothing else happened. Before either of us knew it, the meal was over and I had to leave, which I did so rather reluctantly.

Ares, in keeping with his promise, walked me home.

"You truly are a wonderful cook, and wonderful company," he said appreciatively. "Your husband is a right fool, for not seeing what he has in you."

It was not meant for me to hear, but I heard it all the same. I look over at him discretely and find his cheeks turning several shades of red. It was endearing, really.

"Thank you," I say simply. "And thank you for your company. I truly enjoyed it."

There was that jaw-dropping smile again. "It was a pleasure for me, to have you."

That smile vanished the moment my home came into view. "And now I must take my leave of you." Ares bowed, then surprised me by taking my hands to his lips. "Good night, my lady."

With that, he turned sharply on his heels and walked away. I watch him fade into the distance, my skin still tingling from his kiss.

#sft hnds prt 5 #ares #ares and aphrodite #ares god of war #aphrodite #greek mythology #greek gods #creative writing #writing #amwriting #writeblr

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femboysai · 3 years

Text

flirting

[b. katsuki]

"For someone who's meant to be smart, you're pretty dumb."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that last word and pretend you said I was pretty."

"Dumb," he emphasises, reaching over to flick your forehead. Making a noise of displeasure, you lean back with your hand cupped over the spot he had targeted. A devilish grin stretches across his face, and you quickly come to realise he’s something of a sadist.

"Gross pervert," you mutter under your breath.

"What was that?"

"I said — you're a pervert."

You expect a quip retort. However he just stares back at you. Katsuki blinks calmly, face unmoving, until he shifts his elbow onto the countertop to rest his chin in his palm. "What's there to perv on, pancake-chan?"

Without meaning to, your jaw drops ajar. "Panca—" you go to repeat, practically spluttering in disbelief— recalling that you are most certainly carrying a bigger truckload of chunk than he‘s giving you credit for, not necessarily missing all the times you have caught him staring— "Now that's just rude!"

You are certainly lacking in the chest department however your mother's genetics guarantee fat specifically in the thigh region. He can’t play off like he doesn’t have eyes, as if his vermillion gaze doesn’t subtly flick down to stare at your — you know — assets—

You open your mouth to give back some sort of retort about how he isn’t exactly anything to perv at either however somehow you know that would be adding gasoline to the fire you have started. Your phone starts to violently ringing before you can twist out a single syllable of an insult. Eyes pointed, he’s saved by the bell almost quite literally, and you bring the device to your ear, greeting the recipient with something resembling a huff.

Katsuki’s eyes remain transfixed on you; not exactly missing the feminine curve of your neck, the wisps of hair that curled against your skin, your thick lower lash line that kisses your skin every time you blink. You are pretty, there’s no doubt about that, but he would never admit it to himself, or to you.

And then you turn your head, eyes gazing out the cafe window to spot your friend passing by. Pupils lighting up, you jump and chatter against your phone, soft laughs like hiccups, your hand blindly reaching for your bag.

"Yeah— I'm coming, just wait for me! No, I'm just with Bakugou and Kirishima's ordering— what? I don't want to study?"

Bakugou hastily picks up the wide open zip of your bag and draws it closed before you can sling its contents everywhere with your absent mindedness. You don’t notice, hiking your tote over your shoulder and laughing at something your friend says.

Hanging up the phone, you turn to face him. "I'll see you tomorrow," you say, and then peering over his head, you flash a smile, "See you, Kirishima!"

"Leaving already?" the red-haired man says as he sets down his iced espresso, a bottle of water for his blonde friend.

"Got plans. Besides, if I keep looking at Bakugou's ugly mug, my eyeballs might fall out."

"Nah. I'm handsome," comes Katsuki’s reply — completely unexpected, by the way. You had predicted perhaps a snarl, or a bite, or even a jab back at you. Pancake, remember?

Kirishima snorts, hand slapping over his mouth to stop a potential laugh from slipping out. His eyes fly wide, not quite believing what his rather grumpy friend has said. His gaze flits over to you— and to his disbelief, your cheeks are a very obvious brazen red. Your expression is placid but the pink heating your face betrays your thoughts. Wait a second—

"Does your okaa-chan tell you that?" you retort, wicked smile contradicting your fluster.

"Daily."

By God, is Bakugou flirting?

"That's sad. Real sad." But you are boiling on the inside. Of course it isn’t really sad. Bakugou is most definitely handsome — very much so, even despite that ugly personality of his. "I'm really going now. I'm losing braincells listening to you."

"We wouldn't want that—"

"Goodbye!" you cut him off, solidly, and turn to escape via the nearest exit before your face completely sizzles off the bone.

Katsuki follows your back with his eyes until you truly have left, and absolutely unannounced — he laughs. Kirishima's eyebrows shoot up into his hairline, silence humbling him. Shaking his head, Katsuki settles with a small smile creasing his lips, vermillion gaze catching Kirishima's stares in the corner of his eye—

"What?" he demands.

"You— you were checking her out."

Yes, Kirishima hadn't missed it. The way Bakugou's eye travel, wander, and then burn holes through your shoulder blades until he physically can’t look anymore.

Katsuki’s face drops into a sullen scowl, immediately denying— "I was not, dumbass."

Kirishima comes to a further revelation. "Oh jeez. You like her."

The blonde's eyes round for a millisecond before he lets out a sound of utter disbelief. "No I don't. Who would like that brat?"

"You were flirting with her—"

"—I was making fun of her—"

"You were smiling even after she left—"

"— I was laughing at her terrible personality—"

"That's not very manly of you, Bakugou."

The blonde is livid. He feels attacked— fists clenching as he snatches up the bottle of water to gulp it down and soothe the fire poking in his stomach.

"Get off my back, Kirishima. I don't like her, I lo—"

"Love her," red finishes.

"Loathe her."

#college au katsuki loves to make fun of you #it’s his way of flirting except he’ll never admit it to anyone #and then boom #suddenly he’s argued his way into being your boyfriend and you’re sitting there like #wait what #kirishima saw it coming #kaminari is gutted #Bakugou #.denahi writes #.denahi bnha #Bakugou katsuki #Bakugou x reader #Bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugou x reader #.katsuki

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 years

Text

Onions Among the Roses

“What in the world do two completely different plants have to do with this?”

“... ‘Onions’ can only make you stronger--so do not be ashamed to cut them.”

Yes, that is apparently a real thing that people do.

***Spoilers for Riddle’s childhood, Ghost Marriage Riddle’s home screen lines, and chapter 1 of the main story!***

***CONTENT WARNING: this piece mentions a dysfunctional family and emotional abuse!***

Imagine this...

The stillness of the kitchen was near stifling. Quiet, save for the sounds of ingredients being prepared for plating--the soft gurgle of simmering water, the methodical cut of knives against a wooden board or vegetable flesh.

Riddle sucked in a breath through his teeth, careful to not breathe in the noxious fumes of his half-cut onion. Instead, the oppressive atmosphere slipped in, and he almost gagged.

Small talk, he suggested to himself, make some small talk to drive this horridness away.

“So,” the Heartslabyul dorm leader began, trying to sound casual, “how are you finding the Master Chef course to be so far, Silver?”

“It has been a fascinating experience. I am pleased with the progress that I am making.” He spoke seriously as he whittled away at a potato, forming one continuous ribbon of skin. His iridescent eyes beheld a subtle glow to them--thoughtful. “Father has been pleased as well. He praised the Chicken with Tomato Sauce that I prepared last night.”

Riddle’s knife froze midair. “Your father has visited Night Raven College?”

“Well, more or less,” Silver confessed with a shrug. “He’s always around, always keeping an eye on me, some way or another.”

“I... I see.” Riddle’s eyes turned slightly downcast. “I have not yet had the honor of presenting my cooking to anyone, let alone my father.”

“I’m sure that he would love your food.” Silver reassured him. He set down his neatly peeled potato and started on a new one, the blade of his knife pressed firmly against the grain.

“I’m not so certain,” the redhead replied, a hint of bitterness in his tone. He brought his knife down, cleaving slices from his onion’s bulbous body. “I am not particularly close to either one of my parents. They are not intimate with one another, either.”

Riddle remembered them well: long afternoons and evenings, stretching into bouts of silence, punctured only by the clinking of silverware. His mother and father staring into their own dishes, refusing to address one another. A ‘dessert’ placed before him, tasting of limp cardboard and sadness.

No smiles or joy to be had.

“A Rosehearts family meal is not one you would wish to be invited to,” he declared with the shake of his head.

“Oh.” Silver’s hands came to a stop, his potato peel dangling precariously by his hip. “I’m sorry to hear that, Riddle.”

“Don’t be,” he insisted--a bit too quickly, perhaps. “I may not enjoy it, but I have come to accept it for what it is: my reality. I must hold my head high and continue to advance, regardless of that.”

“Your dedication is admirable,” Silver nodded stiffly, “but even if it is your reality, that does it does not make the blows you’ve been dealt any less painful. Wounds of the body and wounds of the heart can hurt equally.”

“... I suppose so.” Again and again, Riddle’s knife came down mercilessly upon the onion. His motions had gotten smoother with time and repetition, but his dices were still not even in size.

They settled back into silence, each boy tending to their own mise en place. Simmering. Chopping. Discomfort seeped in and filled the space between them.

Silver cleared his throat. “... How are you finding the Master Chef course?”

“Ah... The instruction has been very informative, but I fear I still have a long way to go when it comes to putting lecture material to practice.” Riddle eyed Silver’s knife. “You seem to be quite skilled in some regards already.”

“Swordplay is my specialty,” he replied. “I have been training since I was young. The same goes for Sebek.”

“Practical skills will serve you well.” Riddle flinched as the odor of onions tickled his nostrils. He sucked in another breath through his teeth.

He had once thought of wielding a whisk or a spatula, of whipping cream and flipping patties. He had wanted to make mud pies and set up a lemonade stand. Dreamt of colors and textures and shapes and flavors. To mold them with his own hands, to taste them with his own tongue.

“The only things you need to worry about are your grades--your grades, and following the rules,” his mother had told him, plucking the butter knife out of his hands. Over and over and over. “Go back to your books.”

His dreams laid in shards upon the floor.

“I’ve had a very privileged, but sheltered, upbringing,” Riddle said with a weak laugh, “so I am afraid that when it comes to hands-on exercises such as this... I may very well underperform.”

“It’s fine. No one is perfect at everything.”

“I must be.”

Silver cast his classmate a puzzled look.

“I must,” Riddle repeated, tightening his grip on the handle of his knife, “if I wish to live independently. I cannot always rely on Trey to prepare tea, or Che’nya to yank me outdoors.”

“Riddle...”

How mad his mother had been when she had discovered him missing, when she had discovered the sugar dusting his lips. The strawberry tart had tasted sweet, yet fleeting. She had screeched like a banshee, forbidden him from playing with the other children ever again.

And how livid she had been when he had confronted her over winter break.

“You are my son. You are a Rosehearts. You will not defy me--you will not defy the rules!” she had roared. “Who has been planting these poisonous thoughts in your mind? I want to speak to them!!”

He inhaled shakily and shoved the memories of her shouting out of his mind.

“I need to start making strides on my own--and this is the first step towards that. I cannot allow myself to fail, no matter what.” The redhead pressed the tip of his blade into the onion--the hand curled atop the vegetable, trembling. His expression, solemn.

Silver set down his knife and potato, briskly walked over to Riddle’s workspace, and grasped his wrists. “Stop. You’re shaking all over. It’s not safe to cut it like that.”

“But the onion--”

“Forget the onion. Take a bre--” Silver came to a full pause when he saw Riddle’s face. “... You’re crying.”

And so he was.

Fat tears rolled down his face, his cheeks bloated and rosy. The Heartslabyul dorm leader shook, furiously rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hands. He sniffled loudly, but managed to choke something semi-comprehendible out.

“Th-The onions must be making my eyes water.”

“Of course. Let me get you a towel.”

It took only a few moments for Silver to retrieve a warm, wet cloth. He offered it to Riddle, who immediately pressed the cloth to his eyes.

“I’m... I’m sorry. You shouldn’t see me in such a pathetic state.”

“As I have said before, you are fine,” Silver said patiently. “No man is able to take down a beast by himself. It takes the backing of an entire village to ensure that he is prepared for his quest.”

“But crying at my age... It is unfitting, especially for a dorm leader.”

“Falling and losing your footing are all normal in the learning process. I stumbled a lot as well when I was training with the sword. What matters is that you are able to pick yourself up afterwards. Never losing sight of your goal.”

Silver folded his arms. “To be both the best student, and the best chef. To gain independence for yourself. That is why you fight, and why you shed your tears.”

Riddle slowly lowered the towel from his eyes. His wet gaze met Silver’s. “Are tears truly something to be proud of?”

"... There are many roses in the Valley of Thorns. And, sometimes, onions are planted alongside them. It is said that when they are grouped together, onions can enhance the fragrant aroma of roses."

“What in the world do two completely different plants have to do with this?”

"... 'Onions' can only make you stronger--so do not be ashamed to cut them.” Silver plucked a fresh bulb from a basket and handed it to his peer. “Rest, and reflect on it. When you are ready, you can return to your ingredients.”

He turned and started to walk back to his own work station, but paused midstride.

“Riddle.”

“Yes?”

“You should come over sometime, and join us for a meal. Fath...” Silver caught himself and rushed to correct his phrasing. “Ah, I mean... you should come over to Diasomnia. Malleus-sama and Lilia-sama would be happy to host you.”

Riddle gave the smallest of smiles. “I would like that very much.”

#twst #twisted wonderland #Riddle Rosehearts #Silver #twisted wonderland imagines #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland scenarios #something no one asked for #angst #spoilers #imagine this #tw // emotional abuse #tw // dysfunctional family

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terminallydepraved · 3 years

Text

Beyond the Pale (JayTim Vampire au)

Yo! My contribution to the @batsandbeasts Batman zine is now up on ao3 for your reading pleasure.

Read on ao3 here.

The sharp silhouette of Drake Manor against the pale, full moon cut a suitably somber visage against the autumn sky. A pervasive wind was blowing through the trees surrounding the overgrown ground, whispering like a poorly kept secret. Jason Todd lifted the collar of his coat out of habit, shielding the vulnerable flesh of his neck from its bite. He stared at the once-grand home while he let the wind claw and tug at his clothing as if in hope of beckoning him through the battered doors.

In that regard, the wind seemed to be the most welcoming thing about the place. The windows had long been boarded up, the brick facade a patchwork of lichen and ivy so dried and desiccated that it looked black in the light of the moon. A once-impressive turret rose up to spear the bloated clouds overhead, appearing desperate in its struggle to stand straight while it slanted dangerously askew. Brittle, dead grass crunched beneath his heavy boots. No flowers grew in the planters by the wrapping porch. Only weeds that whispered alongside the breeze.

If anything had lived here, it would have been decades ago. To an observant eye, that supposition would be the end of it. Drake Manor had been abandoned for years, the place left to rot and molder alongside the family that had owned it up until tragedy took them from splendor to the sepulchre nestled just behind the building’s sprawling expanse.

“The whole family passed one by one,” echoed the memory of that old woman’s voice in the lilting chill on the wind. “It was… sudden. First the mother. Next, the father.”

“And the son?” Jason had asked as he sharpened the stake by the hearth, staring at the small woman from across the tavern floor. She had kept her distance from him, like a rabbit smelling blood in the air. Everyone had. They might not have known they had a dead man walking among them, but something within them warned them of the danger of lingering too close to a Hunter seeking fresh prey.

Wizened hands wound themselves with rosary beads. Jason’s eyes tracked them like pearls, reciting the words of her prayer silently out of a habit that hadn’t managed to die even after he had. Her eyes turned towards the rough wooden beams above their head. “We do not speak of it,” she said, talking to God more than the one that used to preach his word. “It is not the boy it once was.”

No one would say what the boy was now, but that was fine. Jason had spent the bulk of his life— both lives—exterminating things better left unsaid. His hands roved over the holsters on his hips and the belt that held his stakes. Vials of holy water—freshly consecrated earlier that evening—studded the inside of his leather jacket. His shotgun was a reassuring weight between his shoulder blades. The small blade tucked inside his right boot pressed against his calve, more soothing than rumors could ever be.

That woman had warned him to be careful; Jason had to think that the creature skulking away inside those dilapidated walls could use that warning more.

The grass crunched beneath his boots as he moved towards the front door. In the dead of night the sound seemed deafening. Still, Jason didn’t try to muffle his approach. It already knew he was coming— in fact, it likely already knew he was here. A vampire couldn’t hope to steal six villagers from their beds and remain unnoticed in its lair. Humans were fragile, weak, and easily made victims to the shadows beyond the firelight— but that was where Hunters came in, evening out the playing field.

Jason, for one, had long outgrown his fear of the dark.

Pulling his shotgun over his head, Jason held it at the ready as he made his way up creaking, splintering steps, eyes narrowed for any sign of movement. He took care to keep his finger off the trigger; any other time he would prime himself to fire first and ask questions later, but the bodies of the stolen villagers hadn’t been found yet. Slim as it was, they could still be alive. He’d been trained too well to write off the possibility entirely, so his finger stayed flattened against the stock as he kicked down the front door with a resounding bang!

The sound reverberated through the entry hall like a crack of thunder. Motes of dust rose in the air, stirring the spider webs hanging from the eaves and edges of practically every available surface. Jason resisted the urge to close his eyes as powdery flecks settled in his hair. It was quiet in the dead space, stagnant air heavy with the silence. Every step Jason took cut tracks into the layer of filth blanketing the wooden floor. If something had been in here, it hadn’t left a trail for him to follow. The dust was undisturbed as far as the eye could see.

First course of business was to locate the missing villagers. They had been gone for at least a week, some of them closer to three. Vampires that took to creating larders tended to store their human pantry staples somewhere secure, contained, and without many options for escape. A place this big... no doubt it had a basement, maybe even a few cellars. He would need to find it before he went hunting for the vampire. Once the captives were out of the picture he’d be able to fight without holding back.

Of course, that was all easier said than done. This place was enormous. Cavernous even, and Jason had spent a large part of his youth in a manor not that dissimilar from it. Maybe it was the lack of life in the place that made it seem so empty. The portraits on the walls had eyes, but their dead smiles were fixed in place, like spectral guides that escorted him through the halls. He paused outside a dark, rusted kitchen. Memories of his childhood flickered among the shadows.

A board creaked behind him. Jason swiveled smoothly, body moving independent of thought. He pointed the barrel of his gun in the direction of a set of descending stairs just visible through a nearby doorway. His heart beat a little faster. That door had been closed a moment ago, hadn’t it?

“Show yourself,” he called out. An old house like this would creak and groan naturally, but the timing was too perfect, too planned. Jason bared his teeth as he looked down the line of his gun. “I know you’re here. Stop hiding and let’s get this over with.”

Another creak, this time further down the hall. Jason shifted without thinking, but this time he caught sight of movement just as it evaded his peripherals. A cold sweat began to bead on his forehead, the tiny hairs on his body rising in the wake of instinct telling him that he was sharing breathing space with a predator. It was in the area with him; of that there was no doubt. Hiding in the shadows and among the eaves above his head… Jason fought the urge to look up, knowing through experience that keeping his eyes forward gave him the best chance of reacting quickly when it inevitably came for his throat.

Jason slowly backed into the kitchen, preferring a wider space for the fight that was soon to follow.

“I’ve never met a hunter before,” a quiet, lilting voice remarked just as the silence began to weigh on Jason like lead. Again, he moved to face the direction of it, his shotgun slicing through the air with whisper. He found himself moving yet again though when that same voice spoke again from a different direction, “Are you truly as strong as the stories say?”

“Stronger,” Jason grunted, knowing this game after playing it so many times. It would try to get close next, and he readied his finger on the trigger. “Even death didn’t stop me from killing your kind.”

The words had barely left his mouth before the vampire made its move. Jason reacted with practiced grace, giving himself to his instincts as he twisted at the waist and fired at the pale blur rushing towards him through the kitchen doorway. The gunshot went off like a thunderclap, deafening in such a dead space. A spray of lead burst through a section of the door frame, ruining an enormous family portrait mounted in the hallway behind it.

“Close,” an icy voice whispered in Jason’s ear. A pale hand wrapped around the smoking barrel. “But no cigar.”

Jason recoiled, warning bells ringing like a cacophony of the damned inside his head as the gun was snatched free from his hands. He let it go without a fight—the creature could overpower him easily, so there was no point in wrestling for it—and darted back, hand reaching for a vial of holy water and lobbing it in the direction of the figure now standing in the middle of the manor’s kitchen.

Jason’s eyes closed as the glass shattered; when he opened them again, the figure was gone, its voice still echoing around his head.

The eaves. It’d gone for the eaves again, or maybe to the tops of the large shelves and cabinets scattered around the room’s upper edges. Jason scanned the ground for his gun, spotting it towards the door he had come through.

“I know who you are, hunter,” the vampire crooned, smooth and melodic, the only warning Jason had before a pale hand descended from the dark to grab him from behind. Those lips met his ear once more as it hissed, “I know every trick in your arsenal.”

White hot anger tore through Jason, overpowering the fear throbbing in his veins. “Oh yeah?” he spat, tearing free two more vials and crushing them in his bare hands. The glass tore through his palms, but that hardly mattered. Blood and holy water both sailed over his shoulders as he cast his hands back. The vampire let out a pained shriek, and the pressure on Jason’s back abated.

The creature didn’t retreat far this time, giving him a chance to look, if only briefly, at his quarry. Even crumpled on the ground he could tell that the vampire was young and far more intelligent than the majority of the blood-starved prey he’d hunted in the past. Jason couldn’t look at him dead on for fear of being caught by that gaze, but what he glimpsed out of the corner of his eye was enough to tell him that the refined beauty spoken about in most vampire stories wasn’t a lie this time around, even with holy water burning black spots into his perfect, blood-flecked skin.

That must be the boy. The woman from the tavern hadn’t spoken his name, but Jason had done his research, had seen that face staring back at him from the portrait sporting buckshot behind him. Timothy Jackson Drake, last of his line. He had been on the cusp of adulthood when he went missing, and it was clear now that he’d stayed there for decades after.

Jason dove for his gun. Dust rose in the scramble, the vampire darting forward to cut him off. Inertia carried Jason forward as he committed to the move, his shoulder bearing the brunt of the impact as he slammed into the vampire and sent them both tumbling through the doorway and back into the hall. Sweat stung Jason’s eyes but he didn’t dare close them, not this close, not as he fought with every ounce of strength he had to pin the slighter body to the floor.

“What did you do with them?!” Jason grunted, forcing his forearm against the vampire’s throat until there was no way for Drake to bite back. “Where the fuck did you put the villagers, Drake?!”

Cold fingers wrapped around his arm, holding tight but not as tight as Jason knew he could. “You can call me Tim,” whispered the vampire through a smile. His eye teeth curved over his bottom lip, ruining whatever charm the expression might’ve held once upon a time. “Can I call you Jason?”

Jason couldn’t smother his reaction, his shock. It widened his eyes, slackened his grip. Drake— Tim— the vampire took the chance it was, pushing hard and rolling them over, pinning Jason to the floor like a butterfly to tack board.

He had to look at Tim now, and God, the stories had never been so true. Pale skin, startling blue eyes, and lips like roses, blood red and temptation incarnate. Those shy lips curled back into a revealing smile, but even that barely shattered the illusion. Jason shut his eyes as quickly as he could, scrambling for one of the stakes at his waist. He shoved upwards with every ounce of strength he had and barely, barely managed to roll them over.

His elbow clipped a door frame, warning him too late that he should have aimed better. Jason lost hold of the vampire as they both tumbled ass-over-tea-kettle down a flight of rickety steps. The stake in his hand was lost along the way. Jason felt a few more splinter by the time he reached the floor.

It wasn’t a graceful landing, and he knew without looking which of them would recover from it first. Jason hit the ground hard, his breathing rushing out of him upon impact. He forced himself to keep moving, rolling onto his knees as his hand reached for the knife he kept in his boot. The air was heavy and dank, his surroundings as black as pitch once the sound of a door slamming shut cut off the sliver of light just above his head. The dirt beneath his feet told him well enough that he had fallen into the manor’s lowest level, but without moonlight or a torch his options on finding his way back upstairs were worse than limited.

“I waited for you, you know,” came that voice again. “Did you think it was strange how loudly that village called for you? I knew you would come, Jason. I know everything about you.”

“You don’t know shit,” Jason snapped, swiping his knife into the empty air. The vampire was pitching his voice somehow, projecting the sound so it echoed all around him. Without light there was no way to tell where he actually was. A burst of paranoia had Jason twist on his heel, slicing wildly at the space behind his back. He met nothing but nothingness, and it pissed him off even more.

“Jason Peter Todd,” recited Timothy Jackson Drake, last of his line. “Street rat turned hunter. Made apprentice to the best and fell victim to the worst.”

Jesus Christ. “What the fuck do you want?” Jason snarled. He couldn’t smell any rot or blood, and this had to be the basement. Where were the villagers?

“You said it yourself; death makes things stronger.” Something cold brushed Jason’s neck. Jason tried to lift his knife but a slender hand wrapped around his wrist, squeezing like a vice until he was forced to drop it. “I waited for you,” Tim whispered, soft hair and cold breath ghosting across Jason’s cheek. “I used to watch you, before. I watched you, and then you disappeared.”

Right. Jason had died, slaughtered by that monster just to come back as one thanks to elements far beyond even his ken. The struggle had left his body, telling the logical part of his brain that Tim must be staring into his eyes right now, mesmerizing him through the darkness. He never should had let the vampire get close to him. He never should have come here alone.

“The… villagers…” Jason forced himself to ask, even as his knees gave out beneath him. “What did… Where…?”

When Tim laughed, it sounded like bells. “Back in their beds. I only needed a story to get you here. But that’s okay, isn’t it? You’re here, and you’re tired, aren’t you?” Jason felt an unnatural exhaustion begin to seep into his limbs in time with the lilting words. His eyelashes fluttered; he couldn’t seem to make his arms move. “Don’t you want to sleep now, Jason? You can sleep. I’ll watch after you.”

That voice was just a whisper. Icy fingers ran through Jason’s hair. Lips as cold as death brushed his cheek tenderly as his body settled on the floor.

“And don’t worry,” Tim breathed, those lips ghosting over his throat. “Even death didn’t stop me from wanting you.”

#jaytim #batman zine #vampires #jason todd #tim drake #fic

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bookquotes-20 · 3 years

Text

Broken Chord

Fandom: Folk of the Air

Pairing: Jurdan

Rating: 13+

Warning: Slightly OOC but tons of angsty fluff ;)

For as long as she could remember, all that mattered to Jude Duarte was power. The thought had been forged into her mind, hammered by the innumerable hours of training with Madoc where her only task was to find the advantage. Figure out how to gain the power in the situation, and take it. Take it without mercy, without hesitation. Power was all that mattered in the twisted world she could not stop her heart from calling home. She had spent her whole life without it. People dangled it in front of her, taunting her with displays of superiority she so deeply yearned to return them. Each night, as sleep pulled her under, her final thought would be of revenge. Some day, she’d tell herself, some day I would be the one to hold it all in the palm of my hands. She didn’t know how, she didn’t know when. But she could dream, and dream she would. Dream of fantastical circumstances that turned the wooden sword in her hand to steel sharp enough to gnaw through bone, stain her hilt with rich gold and her blade with deep crimson, worthy of respect. Worthy of admiration. Worthy of fear.

She had it all today. Even if only person knew it. The Puppetmaster. The Kingmaker. The Queen, as the Court of Shadows had taken to calling her. Now, there were days the name felt like a knife twisting in her stomach.

Every day she reveled in the bliss, in the thrum of adrenaline that raced in her veins at her newfound importance. She faced each day with her head high, with a grace and ease that should not have come so easily to a mortal amid regal faeries.

But it was as each day neared its end, that her father’s words would ring in her ears.

Power is far easier to acquire than it is to hold onto.

A lesson best learned by experience, she had seen. She loved her role, her work, her importance. But the sigh she heaved as she entered her chambers when all was done, was a stark reminder of who she was, she truly was. Because at the end of the day, she was still a mortal amongst Fae.

Her breaths come heavier and a dull ache settles into her limbs as she closes the door behind her. Another day, another battle. Hearing days were the most tedious. For hours she stood by the King’s side as folk across the land came to him seeking counsel, mercy, or favors. The benevolent king, of course, simply sat upon his throne with an expression of boredom and a glass of wine in his hands. It was Jude who listened to each word that fell from their lips in search of any trickery or deception they may be trying to place on the king or his kingdom. For hours, her mind raced through infinite possibilities of deceptive intent behind their words, and her fatigue was tangible. Her head pounds furiously and her shoulder slouches. Sluggishly, she makes her way to the modest armoire she had allowed within her room. On autopilot, her hands reach in to pull out a billowy night shirt and comfortable pants. Unfastening Nightfell from its spot at her hip, she places the blade in the corner of the armoire delicately. She has just finished throwing on the her night shirt when she hears a soft knock at her door.

At such a late hour, the number of people who would come to her was short. Had it been the King’s guards or her Court of Shadows the knock would have been of urgency. She opens the door with a sigh, only slightly surprised to see the High King standing at her door.

“What do you want, Cardan?”

She expects to see the same bored boy she had spent the day standing beside, not a man with muscles pulled taut and anger shining in his eyes.

“I hear there was a Counsel meeting today.” His voice is calm, controlled in a way that spells danger. Jude raises an eyebrow.

“And this is of importance to you because?”

“Oh really, Jude,” he drawls, “you weren’t even going to tell me about all the important decisions you made today?” His eyes narrow. “Decisions involving me.”

“I make decisions involving you every day, I don’t see what makes this any different.” Yes she did. The decision she had made today was unlike any she’d made before. Well, with the exception of one. One that had disastrous consequences for her heart and self-control. Cardan moves at her with blinding speed, pinning her between himself and the wall.

“Cut the nonsense, Jude,” he snarls. “You know full well why this is different. You decided to just marry me off. To Nicasia.”

She swallowed. The words felt just as heavy in her ears as they did in her throat when she forced them out in front of the Counsel.

“Yes.” It’s the only word she can come up with. His hand slams against her the wall inches from her head.

“Why?” he growls. She knows he’s restraining himself but she can’t bring herself to care. She’s tired and just wants the day to be over. She wants to be done with this, if only just for a few hours.

“Because it’s the best move for the kingdom.” His eyes darken. He’s not pleased with that answer. “We’re treading dangerous waters between the attack on the Court of Termites and Orlagh’s anger with Elfhame. We can’t find a war on two fronts. We both know that Nicasia has wanted to be your queen for years. She could placate her mother and the alliance would strengthen our image amongst the other courts.” She works hard to force the words out of her mouth. “A union between the land and the sea is not easily ignored, it could quiet all the dissent and doubt amid the lower courts.”

“You forget one thing,” his voice is low as his face nears hers. His breath is hot against her skin. “I already have a queen.”

Anger ignites her blood, exhaustion forgotten for just a moment.

“Oh really?” her voice is as sharp as her blade, as is her accusation. “Says who?”

His eyes widen in surprise, and his grip on her loosens. “Jude-“

“To whom, am I your queen, Cardan?” She steps forward and he staggers back slightly. “To the entirety of the court, I am still your seneschal. You made sure of that when you laughed me into ridicule at the time of my exile.” It’s her that anger flares at him now. “So what did you expect me to say when the Counsel suggested a perfectly viable way of resolving our political troubles?”

“So you want this?” Accusation laces his words now. “This is what would make you happy?”

She hesitates. Tries to force out the word. Tries to say nothing would make her happier. When did lying to him become hard?

“Yes,” she says. Her voice betrays no emotion; it’s resolute.

“For once, Jude, stop lying.” His eyes close and his brows furrow in frustration. It seems her hesitation betrayed what her voice didn’t.

“What does it matter, Cardan?”

“It would hurt us both.” She ignores the implication of his words.

“So what?”

“Jude.” There’s a warning in his voice. She doesn’t care.

“It doesn’t matter Cardan.”

“Jude.”

“Just do it!”

“I CAN’T!” he roars. “I can’t.” He sounds broken. His eyes are pleading and desperate. “I wish so badly that I could.” He scoffs out a laugh void of humor. It’s a painful sound to hear. It’s a sound filled with pain. Filled with guilt and regret and hatred but laced with surrender. “I don’t know how you do it so easily, I truly do envy you for it. But even for the kingdom’s sake, for even your own sake, I can’t bring myself to purposely hurt you.”

She can’t ignore it anymore. His words. The meaning behind them. The chord between them that has been stretching tighter and tighter for far too long. Silence fills the room. She’s tired. She’s so tired. She’s tired under the heaviness of the armor she wears, the layers upon layers of metal that weigh on her bones. Her exhaustion coaxes a little more truth out of her. Words that would never have spilled from her lips otherwise.

“It’s not easy,” she whispers. She’s turned away from him now, knowing her throat would close if she were facing him. A stubborn tear drops from her eyes but she doesn’t dare wipe it away for fear that the arms she has wrapped around herself are the only thing holding her together. She imagines she’d collapse if they moved, crumble to the floor like a wooden puppet with all its strings cut.

“It’s never been easy to see you in pain. For the entirety of my exile, I spent the day planning countless ways to take your life. To make you pay for ripping me away from everything I loved, from my home. But every night, without fail, I’d wake up screaming from nightmares. I’d watch Madoc attack the palace and steal Oak away. I’d watch Taryn turn Vivi against me. Rob me of the only support I have left. I’d watch the Roach and the Bomb try to fight their way out of a fire and I’d never be able to save them. I’d watch the people I came closest to calling friends called out for me to save them while I could do nothing but watch them burn. And every single time, the last thing I’d see is you.” His breath hitches behind her, the only sound in the room other than the beating of their hearts. The room around them fades away as she loses herself in the macabre scene that had tormented her for months. “I’d watch Madoc drive a sword through your heart. I could never reach you fast enough to stop him, but I’d always be there in time to catch you as you fell. I’d always watch you bleed out in my arms. What you said always changed. Sometimes it would be the cruel words you used when we were kids. Sometimes you’d just repeat my exile sentence over and over and over again. While I sobbed and screamed and begged you not to leave me, you’d repeat over and over how you wanted me as far away from you as possible.” She turns to face him now. He looked haggard, eyes blown wide and breaths coming heavy. “Your pain has always been my worst nightmare. And I lived it every single day.”

His hand comes to the nape of her neck, cupping the back of her head. He tilts it forward and presses his forehead to hers. His eyes are closed, eyebrows furrowed as if in pain. She can feel his warm breath fan her cheeks.

“Forgive me,” he whispers so softly it's almost lost in the darkness. The request is genuine, she feels it in the way his body trembles faintly against hers. She lacks the strength to speak. She hesitates and can feel his body coil at her silence. She gives the slightest of nods, one he only registers through the touch of their heads. He exhales slowly, the tension seeps slowly out of his body. The hand at her neck softens and he takes a tiny step forward. He pulls her into him, his free hand wrapping around her back, pressing against her skin with nearly painful intensity. As if decreasing the distance between their bodies would decrease the distance between their hearts. Her arms wrap around his torso and she presses her cheek to his chest. Perhaps it will.

He tugs them onto the bed, still holding her against him. She listens to his heart under her cheek. The steady beat is a welcome reminder that the visions weren’t real. They weren’t real.

She repeats the words over and over again in an effort to convince herself. I don’t know if this is real. Or a dream, she thinks. I don’t care — if it’s a dream, I don’t want to wake up; if it’s real, I never want it to end. Her heart finally admits that, at least. Whether my head is brave enough to allow me to embrace the admission, I don’t know. She feels his lips press to her temple.

“You’re here,” he whispers against her skin. He’s trying to convince himself of the fact just as much as she is. “You’re here and I don’t want you to leave. Not again. Never again.” He sounds delirious, repeating the words with a fervor that surprises her. She looks up at him and the sincerity in his eyes takes her breath away. She knows he cannot lie, she knows the words he speaks must be the absolute truth for there is no room for twisting or deception. She sees his very soul in his eyes and is shocked to find no walls. No barriers keeping her out. He lay himself out bare before her, placed his heart in the palm of her heart. He couldn’t know what she would do with it. He did it regardless.

“You’re trusting me with an awful lot Cardan,” she whispered with a lowered gaze.

“I entrusted my heart to you long ago, Jude.” His voice is a low murmur. Her breath catches in her throat. “It seems you simply did not realize it.” He tilts her head up so she meets his eyes. “I trust you just as much right now as I did when I gave you the crown at what turned into my coronation.” The very words he used to fling at her as an accusation now spilled from his mouth with nothing but warmth and sincerity. “Just as much as the day I gave Taryn anything she asked thinking she was you. Just as much as the day I married you.” His thumb swiped away a tear that had strayed from her eye to her cheek. “I trust you with all that I am, Jude.” He smiled at her sadly. “It is up to you to do with it as you please.” She was silent as she kept her eyes fixed on his. She thinks that he must be wondering what she was searching for in the depths of his black orbs. She isn’t searching for him. In his eyes, she is searching herself. Her soul. When it came to Cardan, her head has always been at odds with her heart — she would never come to a decision with either of them. So, she searches for the one thing that could overpower both. Deep within that part of her that had been suppressed for most of her life, subdued by the harshness of her childhood, by the fear of emotion other than rage and pain, of thoughts other than power and vengeance. The visions from her nightmares flash before her. Her heart races and breath freezes and there is her answer. The very thought of life without him shuts down her lungs and the time she spent away from him was spent in crippling pain she hadn’t recovered from in the entirety of her exile.

She tightens her arms around him and presses her cheek to his heart again. “I missed you,” she whispers against his skin. She feels him freeze beneath the tangible weight of her words. “I missed you and I never want to have to again.” A droplet of moisture hits her hair. The air that was caught in his lungs releases slowly. She finally meets his gaze again.

His voice is strangled as he chokes out the word, “Stay.” She brushes her fingers against his cheekbone, wiping away the tear. The metal of her ring scrapes against his cheek. “Please, stay.”

She smiles. His heart skips a beat and he swears it is the most beautiful thing he has seen. “I will, for as long as you’ll have me.”

“Forever,” he says before pulling her mouth to his. He kisses her like he never thought he would get to again. She feels months of yearning in the way his lips move against hers and she can’t help but respond in kind. Her fingers tangle in his soft curls as she pulls him impossibly closer and his arm crushes her to him. They pull apart only when air becomes absolutely necessary and even then he keeps his forehead pressed against hers.

“Jude Duarte,” he whispers, raising her hand and pressing it against his chest right above his heart. “I pledge my heart to you till my dying breath.” Tears prick her eyes again and for once she doesn’t feel ashamed in letting them fall. She brings his hand to her heart as well. He can feel the press of her ruby ring against his hand and his heart races. She’s still wearing it. He feels her heart pick up speed under his touch and it nearly undoes him.

“Cardan Greenbriar, my words may not carry the guarantee of honesty yours do. But I hope you can feel the truth in the beat of my heart when I say, I pledge to you my heart and soul till my dying breath.”

She brushes her lips over his, a feather soft touch. Not of want, not of need, but a promise. The promise of more.

Notes:

This is my first venture into Folk of the Air fanfic after reading so many insanely amazing ones on tumblr and AO3. It’s been a work in progress for weeks and I’m so excited to finally be able to share it!! Please do let me know what you think ❤️ I hope you enjoyed it!!

This takes place somewhere in an altered version of post Wicked King, where Jude comes back from her exile but only Cardan knows they got married and she’s the queen.

Also, a huge thank you to everyone who sent asks!! I’m working on multiple asks simultaneously so I’ll try to have them finished as soon as I can!

Please feel free to send in more, I love having new ideas to ponder and try to write. I’ll try my best to write them! (I really mostly write for Shatter Me and Folk of the Air).

Thank you lovelies ❤️

#jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #jude x cardan #jurdan #the folk of the air #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #book quotes #booklr #booklover #love #books #fic #jurdan fic #fanfic #I love this ship so much #my beautiful babies

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psychovigilantewrites · 4 years

Text

Don’t Call Me That Pt. 3

Word count: 15k+ LMAOOOO

TW: Sex, ptsd, abandonment

A/N: I KNOW I DELAYED MY PUBLICATION!! So i’m very thankful for all your support and patience!!! I will be posting outfit pics after this, heheh. You guys are honestly the best. I love your enthusiasm. Keep it coming!!

Masterlist

Ao3

The deep heat that penetrated your skin and into your muscles was a relief as you rubbed Tiger Balm onto your shoulders and the back of your stiff neck. The mentol of the ointment smelled strong, yet it made you feel relaxed.

Your muscles were feeling tense for a while, largely contributed to the fact that you patrol much more often now that you were done with highschool and was waiting for when University lectures started. Perhaps you could go for a spa or massage. Bruce would definitely pay for your indulgence.

Even though it had been over a year, you were still the relatively new Robin. Such a drastic change in lifestyle wasn’t easy to get used to. The training, the patrols, the constant vigilance, constant analysis. You still felt like it was your first week.

Standing in front of your window, you tried to look for the full moon. But the night was too cloudy, and you sensed a storm was coming soon based on the way the trees outside swayed brutally in the wind. It was three in the morning, and you had returned from patrol.

Jason waited for you like usual outside his room in the Cave, but this time, he didn’t follow you up to your room. It must have been a rough day for him. Dick had told you that Jason went a little bit too hard at the Cave gym that evening, almost injuring himself if Dick hadn’t stepped in to help.

So there you were left alone with your own thoughts that night. You were so used to having Jason in the room with you, that now you felt a bit lonely without him.

You frowned. You thought you had heard footsteps in the distance, but now they were gone. Shrugging to yourself, you concluded that must have been Dick returning to his room for the night.

The door slammed open and you jumped in surprise.

But before you could turn around in response, you felt a pair of arms around your waist, pulling you close to a hard, warm body.

Jason sobbed silently into your back, his forehead resting on your right shoulder. You didn’t ask him why, you didn’t say any words of comfort. Instead, you put your hands over his and squeezed tightly, as tight as how your chest felt.

After fifteen minutes, he finally spoke up.

“I’m sorry,” he choked, “It’s just- it’s been haunting me more these past few days.”

“What has?”

“The nightmares,” he gave a watery reply, “Or- I just can’t stop thinking about it. Even during the day.”

You pursed your lip. “Is it the same one?”

“It always is,” he whispered solemnly, “All the time.”

***

Again, your hair was soaking.

During any other nights of stakeouts in the pouring Gotham rain, you would have complained or wished you brought a shower cap with you. But that night, you were silent.

On the rooftop of a warehouse in the loading bay of Dixon Docks, you and Batman were crouching low near the edges of the roof, using the cement wall that rose to your hips when you were standing as a shield from the two other armed guards on the roof of the building across from yours.

The informant had told Batman that a load of weapons were coming in that night, but he didn’t know what time. So there you were, waiting in the cold wet weather, slowly going into your second hour already.

Anxious and bored, you clipped open your cape and dropped it to the ground for you to sit on. It was drenched and that made it even heavier than it already was.

“Bruce,” you spoke up.

“Batman when we’re in uniform,” he corrected you.

“Right,” you said, “Can I ask you something?”

He nodded, water droplets running down from the sharp tip of his cowled nose.

“Have you ever thought of- of killing Joker?”

The sound of water against concrete provided much cover for your voice, and you weren’t sure if Bruce had answered or not.

“All the time,” he finally did.

“But…?” you prompted.

“But that would be the start of something much worse,” he said solemnly, gazing in the distance.

You waited for him to explain, but he never did.

“What does that mean?” you probed, “I’m not saying all of them, Bruce. Just him.”

“Batman.”

“What?”

“It’s Batman when we’re out.”

You let out a frustrated sigh. “Okay. Batman. Just Joker. Just for what he did. All the things he did.”

He answered you with silence.

“Look, I know your rationale, and I understand it, I really do. A lot of these people, they didn’t ask for this. They didn’t ask to be desperate enough to have to choose to be a criminal. Hell, even Pyg can’t help it. He’s got.. Schizophrenia or something, right? But Joker… He’s got no excuse. The man is plain evil. And he’s better off dead.”

“We don’t know enough about Joker to rule it out as plain evil,” Batman tried to rationalize with you, “And we don’t get to choose who lives and who dies. That’s not our job. That’s not anyone’s job.”

The rain came down hard, and it sounded like white noise as you registered what Batman told you. He was still defending Joker.

“What if I told you I wanted to kill him?” you whispered, so low that if it were anyone else, they wouldn’t be able to catch your words.

“Then I’ll stop you.”

“No,” you tried to keep your voice from breaking, “You wouldn’t. Not if- not if you knew. Not if you truly knew what he did to Jason.”

You saw him clench his jaw, but he left you with no reply.

“I want him dead, Bruce,” you grit, “I want to rip him apart and scrape every single cell in his body against every surface of this planet, Bruce. I want him to feel everything that he did.”

“Robin, for the last time-”

Oh, no. Don’t you dare.

“When we’re on patrol, it’s Bat-”

“I don’t give a fuck!” you yelled, standing up on your feet in anger, forgetting where you were at that moment.

“Robin, down!”

You felt it first before you heard it.

A sharp pain that vibrated through your bones. You felt the pain power through you from your back, just a few inches below your shoulder, and then you fell forward. You tried to break the fall with both your arms, but your right arm couldn’t move, so you fell almost flat on your face into the ground.

And then you heard it, the loud BANG of a gun, Batman yelling something in the distance and then disappearing, more gun shots, and then footsteps rushing towards you.

“Robin,” he said with urgency in his voice, “Are you okay?”

“Can’t- breathe- pain- ow-” you gasped, trying hard to manage with shallow breaths, because every time you inhaled, the pain became more intense.

“We need to get you back. Can you move?”

“I- I think so-” you tried to move your legs, wincing when you moved your upper body. Batman lifted you up by gripping onto your left arm, pulling you to your feet.

“I’ll carry you to the Batmobile,” he stated, “You can’t grapple like this.”

You nodded, shame and guilt burning into you as he lifted you up in a fireman’s carry.

***

“Alfred!” Bruce’s voice boomed loudly in your ear as he carried you out the vehicle, echoing back at you in the Cave.

He rushed you to one side of the cave, where there always was a bed and a very complete first aid kit- that shouldn’t even be called first aid anymore. It was where Alfred would perform emergency medical interventions straight after patrol, and then only after that, the said patient would be moved to the infirmary upstairs in the manor for recuperation.

You were hanging upside down over Bruce’s shoulder, ass jutting out in the air. Honestly, the embarrassment would have been the most painful thing about the whole ordeal if you were used to getting shot like Dick or Bruce was.

From the countless times you saw them injured, you always thought getting shot was no big deal. They handled it well, and then even a week later, they would be back in uniform.

That was miscalculation on your side. It wasn’t that it didn’t hurt, they just got used to the pain.

Because the bullet shoved into your shoulder blade right now hurt like a mother fucker. You knew it didn’t even hit your lung, but you couldn’t breathe because of the pain. You felt lightheaded, and your current position was not helping.

Out of the corner of your eye, though, you saw Jason stand up from his box, rushing to you.

“What the fuck happened?” he demanded.

Bruce put you down gently on the bed, the change in position making you cry out and groan as you sat upright.

“What the hell happened, Bruce?!” Jason yelled.

For the first time ever since getting to know Bruce Wayne, you saw him stunned as he looked at Jason.

“Well?!” he pushed.

Bruce took off his cowl, and set it aside. “She got shot.”

“How?” Jason hissed, “Where?”

“Shoulder blade- I don’t think it’s fatal. You can calm down.”

“Calm- calm down?” Jason’s nose flared in anger. “This happened on your watch, Bruce! Need I remind you what happened the last time something went wrong with a Robin on your watch?!”

Bruce didn’t say anything to that. Instead, he clenched his jaw tight, eyes looking down.

“It- it was my fault,” you panted, “I took off my cape. I practically asked them to shoot at me. Was being stupid.”

“What’s the cape got to do with anything?”

“It- yours- yours wasn’t bulletproof?” you asked out of curiosity. Anything to distract you from the pain.

“No,” Jason grit.

“Oh my- what happened?” Alfred finally arrived, immediately opening the first aid kit that was the size of a goddamn cabin suitcase.

“BW to right scapula,” Bruce turned from Jason to assist Alfred, “.22 calibre.”

Alfred sighed in relief. “Very well. We are well stocked on Lidocaine, so this won’t hurt.”

“Okay,” you squeaked

Using a special pair of scissors, Alfred cut through the back of your uniform to expose the injured area.

“Why were you being stupid?” Jason walked over to stand in front of you.

“I just- we- we got into an argument,” you avoided eye contact and played with your thumbs.

“What about?”

“No- argh!” you felt a burn in your back. “A little warning next time, Alfred. It’s my first bullet wound, you know.”

“My apologies, Miss.”

Jason raised his eyebrows at you, waiting for an answer.

You locked eyes with Bruce for a moment, who was hovering behind Jason.

“Nothing. It was stupid. Something about my cape and how it was too cold,” you lied.

Jason stared deep into your eyes intensely.

He definitely was not convinced.

“I will be injecting the anesthesia now. It will hurt for a moment or so.”

“Okay, Alfred.”

“Take deep breath… Hold.”

“Hnng,” you whimpered as you felt another sharp pain.

Jason let out a heavy breath, and muttered, “Jesus.”

“We shall wait for a few minutes for the anesthesia to start its effects before I attempt to extract the bullet.”

“Sit next to me, Jay,” you smiled, patting the space next to you.

“I’m fine where I am,” he huffed, crossing his arms. Then, his eyes softened, “If it makes you feel better, I’ve survived worse. You’ll… Get through this.”

“Is that an attempt to comfort me?” you laughed.

“Maybe,” he frowned.

“Well, I’m all good. Anesthesia is kicking in. I don’t feel it much anymore,” you told him.

“Good,” he gave you a stiff nod, “You shouldn’t have to feel any sort of pain. No one should.”

His eyes fluttered away from yours as your heart sank.

Bruce pursed his lips in hesitation before he attempted to say anything. “Jason…”

“Only she gets to call me that,” his snapped at Bruce.

You felt a little bad, but at the same time you couldn’t help but a feel a little happy the way you were the special one.

“Okay, son. I’m sorry,” Bruce said softly, “For… For everything.”

“I don’t care about that anymore,” Jason choked.

“I should have been better,” Bruce continued, “God, I should have done more.”

“I said I don’t care anymore,” Jason grit, “But I swear, Bruce, I will murder you if you let another one of us slip through your fingers again.”

“I assure you, you wouldn’t have to. I would… myself...” Bruce sighed, “But duly noted. I’m sorry.”

This time, the apology was directed to you.

“No,” you shook your head, “It was my fault. I kept… I kept accidentally saying your name, and I was emotional… I’m just a newbie, Bruce. It’s not your fault. I acted rashly.”

“You did,” Bruce agreed, “Which is why I’m taking away your patrol privileges. Only twice a week now until I think you’re ready again for more responsibility.”

“Twice a week?” you groaned, “I mean I understand, but even when I was starting out it was three times!”

“Yes, you have been demoted,” Bruce smirked. He fucking smirked, “For calling me by name in the field three times, and sabotaging a mission. Now there are dozens of illegal and untraceable weapons in Gotham’s black market. Or do you not think this is an adequate disciplinary action?”

“It’s adequate,” you grumbled.

“No more taking off capes during patrol,” he added, “Even during storms.”

“Well, maybe you could make it lighter or waterproof then,” you retorted.

“I will see to it,” he nodded, “That is all. Let me know the damage, Alfred.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I used to get way worse,” Jason muttered when Bruce walked away.

“Ah, yes,” Alfred chimed in, getting started on extracting the bullet lodged in your back. “I remember many arguments. And broken china.”

“You broke things?” you chuckled at Jason.

“Yeah,” the corner of his lips twitched upwards, though it was tough to tell whether he was actually smiling, or it was because of the scar that twisted his lips upwards.

“Actually,” Alfred interrupted, “Master Bruce would also break things. When you’re gone, that is.”

“Did he?” Jason blinked in surprise.

“Oh, yes,” Alfred hummed, “You created much ruckus in the household, Master.”

You didn’t miss how Alfred too avoided his name.

“Bruce has always been nice to me,” you defended.

“Maybe because you never caused trouble,” Jason said, “Not the way I did.”

You now felt Alfred digging into your back. It was an odd sensation, but at least you didn’t feel pain.

“He still very much loves you despite it all,” Alfred said quietly.

Jason didn’t reply to that, and now an uncomfortable silence hung over the three of you.

“Hey, at least now we all got matching scars, huh?” you grinned, trying to break the tension. “I’m pretty sure each and every one of us has a gunshot wound. Or two. Or three. Or-”

“I have more than just gunshot wounds,” Jason stated.

“Yes, yes, torture and all that,” you waved your hand in dismissal, earning a small chuckle from Jason. “But really, though. It’s like a right of passage for us vigilantes, huh? It’s like I’m finally official now. Do you have one, Alfred?”

“More than one,” he informed you.

“Wokay, buddy, it’s not a competition,” you rolled your eyes, “Talk about a cut throat.”

“You’re really irritating,” Jason commented.

“But you love me anyway,” you grinned. “Do you love me, Alfred?”

“I suppose I have no choice but to say yes, Miss,” Alfred retorted.

“Aww, don’t be like that.”

“It’s finished,” Alfred announced. “Bullet has been extracted, and your wound sutured.”

“That was fast.”

“The bullet is in one piece,” he said, “Would you like me to make a necklace from it? That’s what Master Dick did with his first.”

“Hell yeah!” you looked at Jason, “What did you do with yours?”

“I dug it out and threw it back at my dad,” he monotoned.

“Wait… what?” your smile fell. You knew his dad was a criminal who went to prison, but you didn’t know anything about their relationship.

A rustle of plastic. Alfred kept himself busy.

“Just get some rest,” Jason sighed. He reached out to tuck your hair behind your ear. “Don’t strain yourself.”

His hand lingered there on your cheek, going downwards to tilt your head up, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“I don’t like the idea of you getting shot at,” he whispered.

“You and I both,” you snickered.

“I’m serious,” he frowned, “Be more careful. You’re too much of an idiot.”

“Okay, I will,” you smiled. It was nice to see that he cared. That he showed he cared.

“You get the bed all to yourself tonight. You’ll want the space,” he informed you, dropping his hand.

“I don’t mind if you-”

“Sleep facing down, keep a glass of water close,” he interrupted, walking away to his cube. “Goodnight.”

He closed his door.

You waited for a second, thinking of what Jason had said earlier.

“I take it his relationship with his dad was not good?” you asked Alfred.

“I’m afraid not.”

“Jesus,” you let out a breath, “He’s been through so much, hasn’t he? Guy can’t catch a break.”

“Indeed,” Alfred agreed. “It would be nice for him to be at peace. Perhaps, for once in his life.”

***

“There’s a stack of pancakes, amazingly greasy bacon, berries, cream, butter, maple syrup, waffles- and you’re eating cereal?” you judged.

“Why, my naive sister, don’t you know?” Dick replied, “I need to stick with my reputation, for I am the known cereal killer.”

“That joke has lost its charm after the first thousand times it’s been said, tweeted, and shared online,” you brandished your fork at him.

Dick was over at the manor that Saturday morning, two days after your injury. He had arrived the night before to visit and congratulate you on your first gunshot wound. As expected, he had tried to hug you. But Jason was there, and when Dick rushed towards you, he had stuck out his leg and tripped him over.

“She’s still in pain, you idiot,” Jason had snorted before descending back downstairs to hide away in his box.

Dick on the other hand, had looked up at you from the floor- despite how he obviously should have dodged or maneuvered- with tears in his eyes. “That was the longest thing he had ever said to me.”

Rolling your eyes, you had helped Dick back up.

“I started it!” Dick shouted at you, “No one believes me! I updated my facebook status all those years ago, some reporter reported it, and then suddenly everyone was tweeting it as if they made it up themselves.”

“I’m sorry, Dick, but that’s just not true,” you shook your head. Dick had been trying to convince you he was the trend setter for a lot of things in the past.

“I’m so disappointed in your lack of faith in me. I swear, man, I-”

Dick broke off and looked behind you.

Turning around, you saw Jason standing there with a hand in his hair. “Room for one more?”

“Of course,” Bruce said first, “I’ll have Alfred get you-”

“No, I’m on it,” Dick scrambled to his feet and dashed to the kitchen.

Jason pulled up a chair next to you. His movements were stiff. He was obviously nervous to be joining everyone for breakfast.

“Here,” Dick passed a plate and utensils to him.

“Thanks,” Jason muttered.

“No problem,” he grinned wide, like a kid getting his head pat after winning a trophy.

Jason stacked pancakes and bacon and everything else on his plate.

“What?” he grunted at you.

“Yo- you- you planning to finish all that?” you gaped.

“This?” he looked at his plate, “Yes. And then I’m gonna go for seconds.”

“Okay,” you laughed disbelievingly.

You, Dick, and Bruce made very brief eye contact with each other, and then smiled into your respective plates and continued to eat.

“Uh, Bruce?” Jason spoke up.

“Yes?”

“Can I… Can I move back into my old room?” he asked.

Bruce blinked once. “Yes. Of course. When would you like to move in?”

“As soon as we finish here, I can get my stuff from downstairs,” he informed Bruce.

“The room hasn’t been… cleaned,” Bruce said, “I can ask Alfred to prepare it for you. I left it… the way you left it.”

You only went into Jason’s old room once, out of curiosity. It was the first month you were there. After Alfred found out, he had strongly advised you to keep out because Bruce wanted to preserve it the way Jason had left it, all those years ago.

Out of respect, you stayed out of Jason’s old room and never went back in again after that.

“Then it’s fine,” Jason insisted, “I’ll change the sheets myself.”

“It’s probably dusty,” Bruce pointed out.

“I’ve had worse,” Jason shrugged.

“Indeed,” the older man nodded, “Alright. Let me know if you need anything.”

Silence again. But after ten minutes, Bruce asked, “Does this mean you will be sleeping in your own room instead of…”

Bruce glanced at you.

That was surprising, coming from Bruce. He usually would never ask about things that weren't his business. The fact that he did must have meant that he was either really curious, or he strongly opposed it.

“Bruce,” you hushed.

“Why?” Jason smirked now, though there was no humor in his eyes, his mouth twisting upwards into a distorted smile. “You worried about your little princess sleeping with the mentally fucked up son?”

“No,” Bruce stated, “I just realised that I never got around to having the talk with either of you. I was wondering if I should.”

“Bruce!” you gasped, cheeks heating up. “Come on!”

“You don’t have to worry about anything,” Jason grit, stabbing his pancake with his fork almost too violently, “Joker fucked me up in more ways than one.”

Silence. Longer than it should have been.

“What do you mean by that?”

Dick was the one to break it, his soft warm voice attempting to coax and comfort.

You glanced at Bruce. On the surface, it seemed that he was showing no reaction, but you saw the way he gripped his knife, his knuckles white.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jason scowled.

Bruce rose from his chair, more robotic than usual. “Just… tell me if you need anything. I’ll be at the computers.”

He left with an odd expression on his face.

***

“Tired of walking up the stairs to come see me?” you teased, leaning against the door to Jason’s room.

He was wiping his bedside table with a piece of wet cloth when he glared at you.

“I came in here once,” you told him, looking at the books aligned neatly on the shelves, the photos he had arranged on his desk. His laptop opened but not switched on, with a stack of papers next to it weighed down by Bruce’s fountain pen he probably stole. “Then never again when I found out that Bruce was kind of anal about people coming in here.”

You remembered that the bed was made, and that the sheets were blue. Now they were maroon.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? Oh, forgive Bruce. He was suffering the whole time, too,” he mocked.

“Dickhead,” you retorted, “No. I just noticed that you must have had your laptop on the last time I was in here. I was wondering what you were doing when Alfred came in and told me to get out.”

“Hmm,” he frowned, looking towards his desk, “I don’t remember what I was doing on it. Maybe my essay?”

A smile crept on your lips. You walked over to the desk. “Switch it on,” you grinned.

He narrowed his eyes and came over. It took a minute for the laptop to show the homescreen. The icon was a picture of him from when you assumed to be two years ago , with Dick next to him. Both grinning at the camera.

His smile was different back then. So were his eyes.

“Huh,” you observed, “It was on sleep this whole time? Charging? The battery’s gotta be destroyed by now.”

Jason quickly typed in his password, and then logged in.

The screen showed exactly what Jason had been up to on his laptop two years ago. He slammed it shut, but not before you got a glimpse of the screen.

Porn. Jason was watching porn.

A kinky video too, now that you were thinking about it.

You laughed out loud. His eyes were wide in horror, and- holy shit. He was blushing! His ears went red, and a tint of pink appeared on his cheeks.

“Shut up,” he scowled, looking away embarrassed.

That made you double up and laugh even louder.

“I was sixteen, come on,” he groaned, “Every sixteen year old was horny.”

“No- it’s - it’s not that,” you gasped for air, tears in your eyes, “All this while- all this while, I’ve been so fucking curious. And now I know- it was- it was on PornHub. Jason! Your laptop was on PornHub for two whole years!”

You continued your fit of giggles, before- “Ah! Ow, ow,” you suddenly winced. The injury on your back was pulsating pain while you laughed hard.

“Are you okay?” Jason rushed to your side, panic in his eyes. “What’s wrong? Tell me!”

“I’m fine, Jesus, calm down,” you straightened up and took deep breaths, “It hurt when I laughed, that’s all.”

“You shouldn’t strain yourself,” he worried.

“I’m okay, Jason,” you rolled your eyes, “It’s no big deal.”

His eyes searched your face for any hints of pain, and then he sighed. “I… Came back up here so I can be closer to you… Just- just in case.”

“Just in case of what?” you frowned.

“If anything happened to you,” he muttered, looking away again.

“What’s going to happen to me up here?” you asked, “It’s perfectly safe.”

“I don’t know… What if you.. Fal in the shower or something,” he huffed, crossing his arms.

“Fall in the- Jason, I’m not a grandma!” you chuckled, “I’m Robin. Trained vigilante. I can handle myself in my own home.”

“I was a trained vigilante too, and look where that got me,” he grit.

You didn’t know how to answer that.

“Look,” he sighed, “I just. You got shot. If you had moved a couple of inches to the right, the bullet would have hit your spine. I kept on thinking about that, that’s all.”

“I get it,” you nodded. He was thinking about you dying.

You couldn’t blame him. Death and pain seemed to follow him everywhere. It was probably the only thing on his mind.

“But you don’t have to worry, okay?” you added, “I’ll be careful. Promise. Plus, now that Bruce is limiting my patrols, I get to spend more time with you at night! And I won’t be so tired in the morning. What do you say, you wanna go out later? Maybe somewhere aside from the park?”

“I, uh, I’m actually following Alfred to the grocery store later,” he said, “He says I should pick out ingredients since I eat the most in the house. It’d be easier for him to plan my meals if I were there for him to ask as well.”

“Oh!” your eyes widen in surprise. “That’s great, then.”

You grinned widely. Now that he’s going out with Alfred, it was also one step closer to him going out alone.

“Yeah,I guess,” he shrugged, “I’m just gonna clear out a few more shit from here.”

“You mean delete your browsing history?” you teased.

“What for?” he snickered, “Not like you’re coming anywhere close to my computer.”

“And even if I did, I wouldn’t judge. Much,” you winked. “I need to change my bandages. See ya.”

You found yourself worrying less and less about Jason lately, and he found himself worrying about you more and more.

Despite being more independent now, he had started to get clingy.

At first, you would have thought that Jason Todd and ‘clingy’ were two things that would never coexist together. On the contrary, ever since your injury, he wouldn’t leave your side unless it was to go out with Alfred.

You stayed home for the next two weeks for recuperation, and it was basically two weeks of Jason. You woke up, he was there next to you. You ate, he was there finishing your food. You watched TV, he was there fighting for the remote control.

But when you finally did heal and got to go out for patrol- that was the worst.

“He has been anxious the whole night,” Alfred had whispered to you once you came back. Jason had approached you with a serious look on his face, examined you up and down, nodded, and then went back upstairs.

“Hurry up, I’m sleepy,” he had grumbled, leaving you in shock.

You would have been annoyed if it wasn’t for the fact that it was Jason and he showed that he cared enough about you to be worried. So you were actually quite pleased.

So with all the clinginess and worries and occasional outings with either you or Alfred, you weren’t ready for when he suddenly disappeared while you were sending out some emails to the Gotham University staff.

“Uh, have you seen Jason?” you walked up to Bruce who was down at the Cave computers.

“No,” he frowned, “He doesn’t come down here much after he moved upstairs unless he’s waiting for you. Has Alfred not seen him?”

“I haven’t asked, but he wasn’t in his room, or mine, or the gym, or the kitchen either,” you bit your lip anxiously, “I texted him but he hasn’t replied. I’ll go find Alfred and ask.”

“Let me know.”

You found Alfred in the study, taking and dusting books to give to Jason.

“I’m afraid not, my dear,” he answered your question, “The last time I saw him was during breakfast. I have been up here since.”

“Shit, I can’t find him,” you started to panic.

“I’m sure he is fine,” Alfred tried to reassure you, “He’s been much better lately. He knows how to take care of himself.”

“I’ll call him or something,” you worried, going down to wait in the living room.

He never picked up, so you waited there anxiously for the next two hours, barely paying attention to whatever documentary that was playing.

Then at around five, he came waltzing in from the front door, fucking whistling a low tune.

“Jason!” you stood up.

“Hey,” he greeted you casually. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s- what’s wrong?” you repeated, “You just disappeared. For hours. You didn’t answer my texts or calls. Where were you?”

“Out,” he told you.

“O-out?” you asked, “Like, alone?”

“Yeah?” he frowned, “What’s the big deal?”

“Nothing, I just- I was just wondering where you were,” you breathed and sat back down, “Where did you go?”

“Nowhere interesting,” he shrugged, taking a seat next to you on the sofa, “The park at first. Then the grocery store. Then I parked somewhere and walked around Central Gotham.”

“You drove?” your eyes widen.

“Yeah, your car,” he grinned, “Didn’t think you’d mind.”

“I don’t,” you smiled, “How was it? Your day out?”

“Fine,” he simply said, “No big deal.”

He said that and tried to look modest, but you could see from his expression that he was pretty proud of himself. You had learned how to read his emotions better, and that was definitely a genuine, non-sarcastic, non-mocking smile he had on.

“No big deal, huh?” you chuckled.

“Yeah,” he smirked at you. “Why? Were you worried?”

“No way,” you rolled your eyes, “Why would I be?”

He narrowed his eyes and took out his phone. “Nineteen missed calls. Six text messages. ‘Jason, where are you?’ ‘Jason, I’m serious.’ ‘Why aren’t you picking up your phone? Are you in trouble?’ ‘Please call me back, I’m worried.’ ‘Don’t be an asshole and pick up you massive prick.’ And last but not least- I think this one is the best, by the way. Just ‘Dickhead.’”

“Well, why didn’t you pick up? Or text me back?” you demanded.

“Had it on silent. Didn’t want any distractions,” he pocketed his phone, “Wasn’t worried, huh?”

“Shut up,” you huffed, “I thought you… Left or something.”

“Left?” he frowned.

“Yeah, I thought you packed your bags and left us,” you looked away.

“Why would I do that?” he asked.

You simply shrugged.

“I’m not going to leave you,” you heard him softly say, “Not anytime soon, anyway.”

“Good,” you huffed, “Because I’d be super pissed off.”

“And I wouldn’t want to get on your bad side, huh?” he nudged you lightly, “Or I’d lose sponge bath privileges.”

“God, that was one time, and it was because you stank!” you groaned, “Never again.”

“Never?”

“Ever.”

You looked into his eyes then, twinkling playfully at you.

“What if I got sick?” he smirked, “Or shot? And I couldn’t get to the shower? And I started to stink so bad you wouldn’t want to stay next to me?”

“Then Alfred can give you your sponge bath,” you rolled your eyes.

“But what if I want it to be you?” he breathed, his voice a mere whisper.

“Then,” you leaned in closer, “I’d make you beg for it.”

He chuckled and left it at that.

***

The soft sheets wrapped around your almost bare legs, gently caressing your smooth skin. Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness already, since you’ve been laying in bed for about half an hour, staring at the ceiling.

“Has Gotham always been so bright?” Jason grumbled from next to you.

“What do you mean?”

“The city. It was so bright,” he complained.

“No, Gotham is gloomy, Jason. It’s a whole Gotham thing. Gloomy, rainy, cloudy, shithole,” you went on, “Streets are sticky for some reason. And then there’s always that weird smell going on. You ever notice that smell?”

“Seemed bright to me,” he ignored your question.

“That’s,” you turned on your side to face him. You could see the silhouette of his side profile looking upwards. The bump at his crooked nose bridge, the dip of his deep set eyes, even the length of his thick eyelashes. “Because you have been cooped up in the house for too long.”

“I’ve been out with you,” he mumbled, turning to face you as well. “To the park. The grocery store. It’s just the city. Seemed brighter.”

“Maybe because you’re looking at it from a new point of view?” you guessed, “Changed person and all, yada yada.”

“Maybe,” he snorted, “Doubt it. But whatever. It’s not important.”

From the new position, you were now closer to him. You could feel the slight brushes of his skin against yours whenever he took a breath.

“You don’t always have to dismiss something,” you told him softly, “Just because you can’t find the answer, doesn’t mean it’s not important.”

“Who the hell cares if Gotham is brighter or not?” he argued, “It doesn’t affect anyone. Not even me.”

“The questions you ask say a lot about the type of person you are,” you reasoned.

“And?” he breathed, “What type of person am I?”

You bit your lip when you saw his eyes flutter to your lips for just a second. “Perceptive. Introspective. Kind of an asshole, but that’s okay.”

He let out a breathy laugh that fanned warm breath across your face. Taking a deep breath, you sighed as you looked back at him, for no reason at all. You looked down at his lips for just a second and noticed it was ever so slightly parted. Relaxed.

“If you kiss me, I’ll bite your tongue off,” he stated.

You blinked. And then burst into a fit of giggles. “What makes you think I was going to kiss you?”

“You had that look in your eye,” he smirked, “The one that says that you wanted to kiss me. Don’t. I’m not joking. I’ll bite your tongue off.”

“You’re such a scary man, Jason,” you smiled at him endearingly.

“Really? I thought I had charm.”

“Charming people don’t say that they’re going to bite someone’s tongue off,” you laughed, “Dick would never do that.”

“Dick,” he snorted, “What does he know?”

“He knows not to say something like that to someone,” you grinned.

“But you kind of like it when I threaten you,” he pointed out.

“What? Since when?”

“Sweetheart, I technically choked you,” he reminded you, “I keep on saying that I’ll kill you over the smallest things. It’s either you’re dumb or kinky. I think I know which you’d rather be.”

“I’m not dumb, but the kinky one here is definitely you,” you insisted, “I saw the title of that video, Jason. Girl gets-”

“Stop,” he interjected you, “Don’t even. Ever.”

“My point exactly,” you grinned proudly at your win. “You’re the one with the kinky porn videos. You’re the one with the boner almost every night.”

“Can you blame me,” he groaned, “I’m a sexually frustrated eighteen year old who can’t bring himself to come. Give me a break.”

“You’re dragging me down with you,” you whined, “You think I’m not hormonal, too? I’m at the peak of my hormonal mess and my monthly cycles don’t help either.”

He let out a long sigh. “You can kick me out any time you want, you know. I won’t threaten you. Much.”

“I don’t mind you sleeping here,” you told him honestly, “I mean, it’s got its pros and cons. Cons like getting me all hot and bothered is the same category as you taking up all the space and stealing the covers.”

“And the pros?”

“You get to sleep peacefully,” you shrugged.

“But there’s nothing in it for you.”

I get to sleep next to you. I get to feel your arms around me.

You didn’t say that out loud. You were open with him, but not that open.

Instead, you turned around to face your back towards him. “I like cuddles. I used to cuddle with Dick when I was the one who had nightmares. So just shut up and cuddle me.”

The bed shifted, and you heard rustling, then Jason’s arm snaked around your waist and pulled you closer, flushed against his front.

“Jesus- Jason!” you whined.

“I told you, I can’t help it!” he defended himself.

You squirmed against him, unintentionally grinding your ass against his crotch, boner poking directly into your flesh.

“Hnng. Fuck. Stop moving so much, you’re making it worse.”

The sound he made and the ‘fuck’ he dropped sent shooting heat directly to your core.

Fucking hormones.

“You fucking stop sounding like that,” you shot back at him.

“What? Sounding like what?”

“All moany and breathy and- and swearing and shit.”

“What? Breathy?” he breathed.

“Yes, like you ran a fucking mile,” you said. “You’re panting like crazy, Jason.”

“So are you.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am- fuck you,” you groaned, pushing back against him in reflex.

His grip on your waist tightened, but he chuckled. “If only.”

“Shut up,” you panted. “Ugh. This is literally peak horny teen phase.”

“Dry humping? Definitely. Just- just stop for a sec, Jesus.”

Your heavy breaths filled the dark and silent room. But only for a few seconds.

“Okay- I’m sorry- I can’t,” you sat up.

“Where are you going?”

“To the bathroom to… Relieve myself,” you winced at how bad that sounded.

“Like, to pee? Or..?”

“To fucking come, Jesus Christ,” you pressed the top of your nose bridge. “You may be able to hold it in, but I can’t.”

“Stay,” he instructed, catching your wrist.

“I said I can’t hold it in, you piece o-”

“Then don’t. Make yourself come. But do it here.”

You opened your mouth to argue, then closed it back, looking at him perplexed. “Like… The other day?”

He considered it for a second. “No. Not like the other day.”

“Then what?”

Propping himself up on his elbows, he gave you a mischievous grin. “I’ll drag the chair to face the bed and watch you.”

You immediately felt yourself blush, though the heat also went to your belly. “W-what? No way. That’s too embarrassing.”

“Nothing I haven’t seen,” he shrugged.

“You haven’t seen my… That,” you winced.

“That?” he smirked.

“Yes, that,” you repeated, “You haven’t seen it, and it’s embarrassing if you watched.”

“Sure, I haven’t seen yours,” he went on, “But a pussy is still a pussy, sweetheart. Not that I wouldn’t think yours is special- I’m sure it is.”

You pursed your lips, thoughts running quickly through your mind. On one hand, it was the first time you would bare yourself to someone else and you were nervous and shy about it. On the other hand, the thought of Jason watching you get yourself off was hot as fuck.

“Fine,” you conceded, horniness taking over your shyness, “But on one condition.”

“And what’s that?” he whispered, sitting up and leaning in closer to you.

“You gotta take out your dick and show it to me too,” you grinned.

“That,” he got off the bed and walked across the room to pull a chair from your desk, “I can do.”

He switched on the lamp on your desk, illuminating the room dimly with warm light and positioned the chair to face the foot of your bed and sat down, grinning so unbelievably wide for his standards that you were sure his cheeks would start to hurt soon.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he pulled down his sweatpants to his knees, revealing his cock with a small slap on his pubic bone- erect, thick, long, hard, and judging from the way the light from the little light of the desk lamp reflected on it, wet at the tip with precum.

Your jaw dropped at the sight of him smirking away, leaning comfortably back into your chair, legs now slightly parted. Shirtless Jason was something you had trouble getting used to, your imagination running wild whenever you saw him in that state.

But your view of him right now? You made sure to burn it into your mind because that would be your permanent spank bank material.

How you wished you could ask if you could take a picture.

“I know I’m a sight, sweetheart,” he chuckled, “But you’re the one who said that you couldn’t hold it in anymore.”

He was right. Since Jason took off his pants, you were already dizzy with heat that spread from your core.

“Jesus, Jason,” you breathed, hand cupping your own cunt and grinding it to relieve some pressure. “You’re insanely- just- Jesus.

He smiled at you softly, his hands both on each respective arm rest, not touching himself at all. “You don’t have to take off anything if you don’t want to. You can just do it under the sheets if you want.”

“Hell no, you changed my mind,” you shook your head, proceeding to take off your sleeping shorts, “Now I’m just horny as fuck, I don’t care anymore.”

You threw your shorts to the floor and leaned back onto some propped pillows. Spreading your legs slowly, you welcomed the cold air that brushed softly against your folds.

“Holy shit,” you heard him gasp.

And then out of nowhere, you started to get nervous again. Your hands went between your legs and hid your pussy from his view.

Jason must have noticed your change in body language, because he sat up straight and tried to reassure you again. “I know it’s your first time showing yourself to someone- hell, it’s mine too. But you don’t have to worry. You’ve already seen me at my worst. I have way more reason to be embarrassed than you do. And right now you’re showing your best to me. You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and what do you know? You felt yourself easing back into the mood again.

“O-okay,” you nodded, and then slowly spread your legs wider, removing your hands from obstructing his view.

You noticed him lean forward, his heavy breaths audible to you in the silence of the room. With much more confidence than before, you started to slowly circle your clit, breathing out a small moan.

“Fuck,” you heard him breathe.

You were wet, wetter than you thought you would be, and Jason cursing while watching you touch yourself did wonders to your body.

Increasing the pace to one you were most used to, you let out another moan, louder than before.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he gasped, “I can see how wet you are from here.”

“It’s your fault,” you whined, “You made me like this.”

“Well, you made me like this,” he groaned, gesturing to his raging erection. It was twitching against his lower stomach, leaving a trail of wetness on his skin as it oozed precum.

“Jason,” you purred, slipping a finger inside of you while you rubbed on your clit.

“Fucking- hnng-”

Glancing back at him, you saw the way he gripped the arm rest, knuckles white, muscles taut. He looked like he was being tortured.

You let out a laugh.

“What?” he angrily bit at you.

“You look like you’re in pain,” you giggled, fingers still working at your cunt.

“I am,” he grit, “My cock wants to be touched so bad, it hurts. You make my cock hurt, sweetheart.”

“Oh,” your eyes fluttered close at the sudden spark. You really did like it when he talked dirty to you.

“I swear I’ve never been so hard in my life,” he groaned, “You make me so hard, baby.”

Baby.

He had never called you that before, but you didn’t want it to be the first and last time.

It wasn’t like his ‘sweetheart’, where he would call you that even in front of Alfred or Dick or Bruce. It wasn’t an innocent nickname or term of endearment that he threw around just for the sake of it.

It was the way it just naturally came to him as the word rolled off his tongue, the way his voice husky and laced with lust made it sound dirty, a secret that just both of you shared.

It was the way he breathed it out, the way he almost stuttered when he pronounced the consonants, the way it was a mix of a small whine and a groan.

It was enough to drive you to the edge of your climax.

“Jason,” you let out a breathy whisper so soft you didn’t know if he heard it.

“You want to come don’t you, baby?” he coaxed you, “I’m not going to come, so you better come for me in my place, sweetheart.”

“Jason.”

“Yeah, that’s it. Come for me hard. Come on, baby. Come for me.”

The finger that you had fucking your own cunt was dripping wet as you fucked yourself harder, as you rubbed yourself faster, as you watched the way Jason bit his lip hard enough to draw blood while he watched you with hooded eyes, cock twitching and begging for attention that he wouldn’t give.

His eyes locked with your own.

“Come for me, baby.”

And you did. Your breaths stuttering, your mouth opened in a silent scream, your toes curling at the white hot sensations that spread from them to the rest of your body as your pussy clenched and fluttered over your single finger.

“Holy fuck-”

“Fuck,” you panted, a wave of fatigue crashed over you as you came down from your high.

You looked over at Jason, and to your surprise, he had his head in his hands, his elbows on his knee. Silent, but obviously filled with tension.

“Jason, are you okay?” you voiced your concern.

“Yeah- just- give me a minute,” he answered with a strained voice.

Watching Jason with worry, you saw the way his hands were also fisting and tugging slightly at his hair.

“Jason-”

He got up and pulled up his pants, and then walked to the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To get a glass of ice cold water to stick my dick in,” he snapped, “Fucking hell, sweetheart. You’re going to fucking kill me.”

***

There were a number of scenarios that you felt were so ridiculous, you didn't think it would actually happen in real life- until it did.

One of them was the fact that you got adopted by billionaire Bruce Wayne, whom you later found out was the Batman himself- accurately confirming the online conspiracy theories you had laughed at on Reddit at four in the morning- and then you becoming Robin. It was so utterly ridiculous, that even then you were questioning whether or not it was all a dream and you were going to wake up in your bed that had springs poking into your back and sheets that were definitely infested with dust mites.

Another scenario was the current president becoming president in the first place- which was a shock to everyone else as much as it was to you at the time.

Which brought you to the current scenario you never thought would happen. In fact, it was so random that the thought itself never even crossed your mind.

Jason Todd sitting across the dining table from you with a murderous glare in his eyes, holding a plate of red velvet cake, wearing a bright pink glittery party hat that only slightly ruffled his gelled hair, a sequined pink tank top that oddly suited his physique and bright pink eyeshadow that brought out the blue in his eyes. His stare was directed to both you, and Alex who was sitting next to you.

How did you get there?

It wasn’t a party party, but more like you inviting your three friends over to the Manor in celebration of your birthday. Natalie had chosen a theme which she demanded everyone follow.

You were just finished setting the table with Dick when you heard a voice from behind you.

“Am I invited?”

Turning around, you saw Jason with his arms crossed and an eyebrow cocked up.

“Well, yes,” you blinked, “Of course. I just didn’t think you’d want to be downstairs with strangers around. I’m sorry, I should have asked anyway. I didn’t want to put you on the spot.”

“It’s fine,” he rolled his eyes, “How many people are coming anyway?”

“Just my three friends.”

“I can handle three people.”

“But can you handle pink?” Dick interrupted, grinning mischievously.

“What?”

“We have a theme, Jason,” you laughed, “You have to wear pink.”

Dick himself was sporting a tight baby pink t-shirt that had the words MY ASS IS TIGHTER THAN THIS SHIRT in black, bold, capital letters. He paired it with fuschia pink shorts that did in fact make his ass look tighter than the t-shirt.

“I don’t have anything pink,” he frowned.

You looked at Dick just as Dick looked at you.

“Fuck, I know that look,” Jason started to shake his his head, “No. No way.”

“I was in between outfits, so I brought them both,” Dick started to chat excitedly, “Let me go and grab it.”

“I don’t want to wear anything you think is nice, Grayson!” Jason yelled at him when he rushed to his room.

“Oh, his style isn’t that bad,” you defended Dick.

“Sweetheart, you weren’t around to see that God awful Nightwing suit with the frills,” Jason shot back at you.

“Hey, I was just discovering myself then,” Dick came back, “Here.”

He threw something at Jason.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No way in hell.”

“Jason, you have to!” you whined and pouted at him, “Please? It’s my birthday.”

“Fucking- fine!”

And that was how you convinced Jason to put on Dick’s pink sequined tank top. The party hat and eyeshadow came next. You learned something pivotal that night.

Jason couldn’t resist it when you pouted and batted your eyelashes at him.

The doorbell rang, saving you from the argument Dick and Jason were having.

“I think the pink eyeshadow brings out the blue in your eyes-”

“Your eyes are blue, too, dumbfuck!” Jason was yelling, “Why aren’t you wearing any?”

“I’m already too pink! You’re wearing black pants- you can handle a little more.”

“I swear to God, I’m gonna-”

“We need to take a picture-”

“I will fucking murder-”

“Hey guys!” you opened the door to reveal your three pink and sparkly friends.

“Babe, you look so amazing!” Natalie squealed, “See, I knew pink was your color!”

“Pink is everyone’s color, Nat,” Sarah interjected, “But I agree, you do look good in that.”

“You guys didn’t compliment me that much when you saw me,” Alex grumbled, nudging you aside to enter without waiting for an invitation.

“Because she slays, and you don’t, Alex!” Natalie followed suit.

“I worked hard on this outfit!” Alex argued back.

You closed the door behind Sarah as your friends made their way into your home towards the living room. They have been there countless times, already familiar with your family.

“Hello there, Dick,” you heard Natalie purr.

Sarah, Alex and you rolled your eyes.

“Nice to see you again, kid,” Dick chuckled.

“Oh come on, Dick!” Natalie whined, “Stop calling me that. I’m not a-”

“Good evening Mr. Wayne,” Alex cleared his throat at Bruce’s arrival, going in for a handshake.

“It’s Bruce, lad,” Bruce smiled warmly.

You didn’t have any inappropriate thoughts for your adoptive father, but he looked good in pink.

“Thanks for having us, Bruce,” Sarah shook his hand as well.

“Yes, Bruce, thank you for- oh, hello there.”

Jason had just walked in from the kitchen, pouting and blushing over how he looked, but was caught unaware at Natalie’s greeting.

“And who are you?” she grinned, throwing a knowing look at you.

“Ah, this is my cousin’s son,” Bruce said, “He’s been staying with us for a while.”

“Jason,” Jason fucking smiled charmingly at Natalie.

Expecting the worst, you were impressed by how relaxed and at ease he looked. Shaking your head to yourself, you thought about how truly skilled and trained Jason was to be able to blend in when he tried.

“Oh,” Alex gave a sound of recognition, “So you’re Jason.”

You were also expecting Jason to throw punches the moment his name left Alex’s lips, but he only narrowed his eyes at Alex. “You.”

“Am I missing something?” Sarah asked.

Alex was grinning, and you recognized that grin. It was the grin he made whenever he was up to no good.

Oh, god.

And surely enough, he threw his arms around your shoulders and brought you closer to his side.

“You’re the one I sent that selfie to,” Alex chuckled, “You should thank me. She would never have sent you a picture of herself half naked otherwise.”

“I don’t need a picture of her half naked when I’ve seen everything in real life.”

In the distance, you heard Dick spat out a drink you didn’t realise he had.

“Okay, I think dinner is ready,” you quickly interjected, prying yourself from Alex’s grip, paying close attention to the way Jason clenched his jaw.

You settled to sit down at the dining table, Sarah taking a seat next to you, Natalie taking a seat next to Dick. The other seat beside you was empty- until Alex rushed to sit down, beating Jason by a beat, who ended up sitting across from you in between Natalie and Bruce.

“What are you doing?” you hissed at Alex.

“You’ll thank me later,” he whispered back with a wink, leaning in a little closer than he usually did.

Sarah had gotten into a conversation with Bruce regarding New York, Natalie was flirting with Dick who seemed to enjoy the attention, which left you, Jason and Alex.

“So, Jason,” Alex spoke up.

Again, you winced internally when he said Jason’s name, but Jason merely looked up from his food and raised an eyebrow. Was this it? Did he not care for it anymore?

“How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

“Oh,” Alex blinked, “I thought you were older.”

“The scars make me look older,” Jason’s mouth twisted into a grin, “Want to know how I got ‘em?”

“Jason,” you warned.

“I don’t want to pry,” Alex said.

“I was in a gang,” Jason smirked, “I got caught by a rival gang one time, and they shoved a knife in my mouth. That’s how I got this one.”

He pointed to the scar on his lips that twisted his smirk upwards even more. You frowned to yourself, asking the silent question. Was that what Joker did to him?

“How about the one on your nose?” Alex asked excitedly.

“Alex!” you smacked his arm.

“It’s fine,” Jason shrugged, “Someone hit me with a crowbar, broke my nose too.”

“The one near your eye?”

“Slammed my face against a wall.”

“Stop it,” you whispered.

“Cheek?”

“Huh, I don’t remember. I have so many. I think it was-”

“Stop it,” you said louder, glaring at Jason.

You didn’t want to hear how he got his injuries, you didn’t like the way he took it so easy.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Jason’s eyes turned soft, “Didn’t mean to upset you.”

You felt Alex’s stare on you, probably trying to read your emotions. He was always good at that.

“Anyway,” Alex changed the subject, “You got a girlfriend?”

You groaned internally. You didn’t know why Alex thought you would thank him later.

“No.”

“Badass guy like you, I’m sure you have a few lining up,” he coaxed.

“Hmm. Maybe just the one,” Jason smirked, looking at you.

“Oh, God,” you groaned out loud this time, feeling your ears burn with embarrassment.

“What, her?” Alex scoffed, “Nah. She doesn’t usually go for guys like you.”

“Shut the fuck up, Alex.”

“Then what kind of guy does she usually go for?” Jason grit, clenching his fists around his knife a little bit too tight.

Alex snaked his arm around your waist and looked at Jason straight in the eyes before answering, “Guys like me. We used to date.”

You were going to fucking murder your best friend- if Jason didn’t murder him first.

Ever since finding Jason in that cell, you had seen many sides to him. The white hot rage that borderline insanity in his eyes for the first few weeks, the empty glassy look he had whenever he stared into space, the panic when you brought him out the first time, the lust he showed only a few nights ago, the laugh and comfort and ease that was slowly brought out which he showed not only with you anymore, but with Alfred and Dick too.

So this was the first time you got to see another expression on him.

Calm, cold and focused anger. A look that sent shivers down your spine, much scarier than when he lashed out at you and choked you a year ago when he was still unstable.

Shit.

You looked over at Alex, thinking that he would start cowering as well and finally put an end to whatever he was planning.

But Alex, the stupid dumbfuck, was still smirking at Jason with a challenging look on his face.

You were going to say something to correct him, but Alfred brought out the cake.

And that’s how you found yourself in that unbelievably dumb scenario.

The rest of the night, Jason was relatively quiet, only answering questions coming from anyone except Alex. Not like Alex was trying to talk to Jason anymore. No, he opted for a more physical approach that even raised eyebrows from Sarah and Natalie.

He started touching you, squeezing next to you on the sofa, leaning in closely to your ear to whisper unintelligible words.

And whenever you pushed him away and tried to scold him, he simply answered with a “You’ll thank me later.” or “Trust me.”

Finally the night came to an end, and with lots of tears from you, Sarah and Natalie- as it was going to be the last time you saw each other for a while. It wasn’t really a separation issue, it was just symbolic.

The four of you had been friends since elementary, and now you were finally going your own way.

You felt Jason and Dick watch your teary goodbyes from afar.

It was Alex’s turn to say his goodbye, but instead of opening his mouth, he just went in for a bone crushing hug. The two of you stayed that way for a minute, and then Alex released you.

“You’ll thank me later,” he said again, and then leaned in unexpectedly to give you a light kiss right at the corner of your mouth.

In the background, you heard Dick chuckle.

You felt yourself flush. He stepped back, winked at you, and then left.

***

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” you smiled at your reflection while combing your hair at the dresser. Jason was sitting on your bed behind you- cleaned and changed. “I’m going to miss them a lot.”

“Yeah.”

You frowned. Jason had been grouchy all night.

At first you thought it was the choice of outfit for him, but he seemed to not mind it in the end. And then you reckoned it was the fact that he had to be around strangers the whole night, but even now he was sour with just the both of you in your room.

Alex must have gotten to him real bad. You were definitely going to give him a piece of your mind later.

You set down your comb and walked to stand in front of him. “You okay there, buddy?”

His frown was deep when he looked up at you, and his lips were in a pout. “No.”

“What’s wrong?” you coaxed.

Suddenly, he stood up, towering above you. “You told me that there was nothing going on between you and Alex.”

“There isn’t,” you reassured, “He was just messing with you. He likes to do that when... “

“When?”

“When he thinks I like someone,” you carefully said, “He tries to make them jealous. It’s not the first time he’s done this.”

“The two of you used to go out?”

“In middle school, Jason!” you sighed exasperatedly, “For like two months before we realised we were better off as friends. He still brings it up to mess with people.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “I’m still frustrated.”

“Why?”

“Because it worked,” he stated. “Because I get jealous whenever he touched you. Because I wanted to murder him when he kissed you.”

“It wasn’t even on the mouth,” you rolled your eyes, “It was just for show.”

“Well, it fucking worked, didn’t it,” he growled, his hands flying to your hips. “That smug little bastard. Am I really not the type of guy you’d go for?”

“I haven’t met anyone like you, Jason,” you smiled, resting your hands on his chest.

His eyes softened, and he leaned in closer to you, a breath away from touching his lips to yours. “Are you going to bite my tongue off if I kiss you?”

“I’m not a fucking savage like-”

And then he did it, finally, after months of sexual tension, he finally kissed you. Soft and gentle at first as if testing the waters. And then as both of you got the hang of it, his kiss turned into one that was heavy and hard and desperate, as though you were going to run away from him if he didn’t make you stay with his mouth.

He pushed you against the wall, his hands roaming all over you, gripping and squeezing and massaging, while he forced his tongue inside your mouth to explore.

“I want you,” he gasped, going down to your neck to leave love bites, “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

You wanted him too, more than just his body, more than what you had, but you stopped yourself. Because you weren’t supposed to.

“Jason,” you panted, “St-stop.”

And just like that, he did. He wrenched his hands away from you as if he was shocked by electricity and looked down at you with worry in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“You don’t… You don’t want me,” you said solemnly, “Not in the way I want you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m just… I’m just the first person you opened yourself up to after a traumatizing event,” you explained, “It’s natural for you to develop a dependency, and I don’t blame you for it, but-”

“You think that’s what this is?” he hissed, “Dependency?”

“It’s like when a patient falls in love with their therapist. It happens and it’s normal and-”

“Fuck you,” he seethed. “You think I can’t tell the difference between wanting you and- and needing you?”

You pursed your lips and simply looked at him, unsure of what to say.

“I don’t fucking need you,” he sneered, “And I’ll fucking prove it.”

In a blink, he left the room.

“What? Wait- Jason!” you followed after him.

He was in his room, throwing his things into a duffel bag.

Your heart sank at the realisation.

“What are you doing?” you whispered.

“I’m leaving,” he said.

“Why?”

“You think I’m so fucking helpless?” he aggressively shoved his clothes into the bag, “You think that I can’t fucking be like a normal person? Well, I’ll just show you how fucking independent I can be.”

“You don’t have to do this, Jason,” you tried, “It’s not about trying to prove your point! This is about your mental health and wellbeing and-”

“STOP FUCKING DOING THAT!” he yelled, causing you to jump. “Stop fucking babying me. I’m not a patient and you’re definitely not my therapist. You’re just a stupid girl who thinks she knows me better than I know myself!”

“Jason, I-”

“How can I be normal again when you’re scared of being normal with me!” he continued, “You didn’t even tell me that you had people coming over to celebrate your birthday because you were worried that I couldn’t handle it! Did you think I was going to strangle anyone who said my name tonight? Did you think I was going to suddenly flip a switch and break down because they were strangers?”

“That’s because I actually care for-”

“I know!” he shouted, before taking a deep breath. “I know you do. And I know you mean well. But this was bound to happen sooner or later. I need to get back on my own fucking feet without you offering your fucking hand whenever I fall down.”

“But, you’re not-”

A warm but firm hand on your shoulder stopped you in your tracks. You turned to see Bruce looking at Jason with his eyebrows knitted together, his lips downturned- he was the Bruce underneath the mask.

Jason stood up straight and looked at him in defiance.

A moment’s silence. And then-

“Do what you need to do. But don’t forget that you are always welcomed here. Call me if you need anything. And I mean anything.”

You gaped silently at Bruce.

Jason nodded at him, giving a small smile.

“Bruce, you can’t just let him leave! This is irrational, and spontaneous, and uncalculated-”

“He’s his own man,” Bruce stated, “He knows what he needs. And I trust him enough to know he will be okay. You should too.”

And with that, Bruce left.

You couldn’t do anything but silently watch Jason resume his packing, and when he was done, you watched him carry his bag to the Manor door.

“I’ll see you again. Whenever.”

And you were left there alone, on the night you turned eighteen, heartbroken over a man who deserved more than what the world gave him.

***

“He hasn’t slept for more than four hours ever since… Ever since he escaped,” you told Dick who had just arrived.

It had been two months after Jason left. He never contacted you once, and if he did contact Bruce, you wouldn’t have known about it.

“And you? How are you doing?” Dick sat down on the sofa next to you.

“The usual,” you shrugged, “Tired. I’d worry more about Bruce.”

“It’s not like it’s the first time Joker’s escaped from Arkham,” Dick stated, “Bruce knows what he needs to do.”

“But it’s the first time he’s escaped with zero evidence,” you explained, “No evidence, no witnesses, nothing. Even Harley doesn’t know what happened. And we have no idea where he is now. I think that’s what’s bothering Bruce the most.”

“Well, it’s only been two weeks since the escape,” Dick sighed, “He’s bound to appear sooner or later.”

“Isn’t that why you’re here? To help?”

“Yeah,” he hummed, “Hey, have you seen the news lately? About that guy who’s running around beating up criminals?”

“The vigilante wannabe?” you snorted, “Sure. He’s a joke. Zero class whatsoever.”

“Do you think it could be..?”

“No,” you shook your head, “I’ve thought about it, but no. He’s just another thug.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Jason wouldn’t rub me off the wrong way like this Red Hood does,” you crinkled your nose, “There’s just something I don’t like about this guy. I think it’s the way he thinks he’s so good. Challenging us like that.”

“Challenging us?”

“Dick, he’s got a blood red bat-symbol on his chest!” you threw your arms up, “It’s insulting- and obviously a mockery.”

“He’s clearing the streets though,” Dick gave you an amused expression, “He’s doing good.”

“He’s an asshole who uses guns to threaten people.”

“He hasn’t actually killed anyone.”

“Yet,” you grumbled, “When you’re that armed, you probably mean business. People are afraid of him. They don’t respect him. Not the way Batman earned his respect.”

“What does Bruce think of him?”

“Nothing. I’m telling you, Dick, he’s just another thug. Besides, Bruce has bigger problems to worry about. Like a lunatic clown that kidnapped his son and tortured him for years being on the loose.”

***

Another two months passed since Joker broke out of Arkham, and Bruce was still obsessing over him.

You couldn’t blame Bruce, obviously. The way he spoke about Joker had never been the same ever since Jason came back. You suspected that he pieced together what that sick bastard had done to Jason, not that Bruce ever said anything about it.

The last time it had rained that heavily while you were on patrol, you had gotten shot. Since then, the bullet wound scar on your back tingled slightly every time you were out in the rain. You knew it was all in your head.

Separated from Batman, you were patrolling downtown, looking down at the alleyways from the rooftops of run down shopping lots. Bruce had made your cape lighter and waterproof after your accident and complaints, so at least you weren’t completely drenched.

But it was still cold.

It was a slow night- as slow as any rainy night would be. A shiver ran down your spine violently. Anyone who was out that night were either crazy, or desperate. The wind was howling, the rain left thunderous pelts as it hit the ground.

And then you heard it, a loud BANG of a gun being fired.

Your head snapped to the direction of the sound, and you grappled- only a few blocks over before you saw the source.

It was the man they called Red Hood, big and bulky, wearing all black except for a leather vest that had a red hood attached to it, pulled up. The red bat symbol on his chest looked as if it was glowing angrily at the whimpering man on the floor.

“Get out of here before I shoot your other knee, you fucking sick pervert,” you heard him growl.

The man scrambled up and limped away.

You saw it as an opportunity to finally confront the asshole, so you dropped down to the alley, right behind him.

That close, you could see how big he was. Broad shoulders, massive biceps, tight fucking ass-

“And who gave you permission to wear that symbol on your chest?” you sneered.

You had expected him to jump in surprise at your voice, but he didn’t. He just stayed there, his back towards you, his smoking gun in his right hand.

You frowned angrily. You made sure to be quiet, and with the rain, it was almost impossible for a stupid thug like him to hear you.

“I’m talking to you, asshole!” you yelled heatedly. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

He slowly turned to face you, revealing an odd red metal mask that covered his whole face except his forehead.

“They call me Red Hood,” he answered, voice muffled. “Haven’t you been reading the news?”

You clenched your jaw at his teasing, arrogant tone.

“That symbol is reserved only for people who deserve it,” you scowled.

“Is that why you don’t wear the symbol, then?”

“I- you-” you gaped furiously, “I’ll fucking rip it off you.”

He chuckled. “If you wanted me to see me shirtless, you could have just asked, sweetheart.”

You were going to throw another round of insults at him, until you recognized his words.

No. No fucking way.

Dick was right?!

“Jason?” you whispered.

He pulled down his hood, and took off his mask to reveal a grinning Jason. “Miss me?”

“But- you- no- but-” you stuttered, “You’re huge! What the fuck?”

“Let’s get out of the rain, and I can show you how huge I really am,” he winked at you.

You felt your face burn despite the cold. So he was extra flirtatious now, too?

“Where?” you asked.

“My safe house.”

“I need to tell Batman.”

“So tell him.”

You pressed onto the gadget in your ear. “Batman. I found Red Hood. He’s… Him. I’m going with him. Is that okay?”

“Affirmative. I’ll see you back at the Cave.”

You looked at Jason. “Lead the way.”

***

“This isn’t your safehouse, this is Batman’s!” you gasped when you walked down the small staircase that led you underground.

“Yep,” Jason replied, taking off his glove to key in a passcode and scan his thumbprint. “I found out he added my print to all his safehouses in Gotham.”

“So he knew where you were the whole time?��

“Yeah. He didn’t tell you?”

“No,” you grumbled, walking into the familiar looking space.

All of Bruce’s safehouses looked the same. The small emergency ones, at least. It was a small room with nothing but a bed, a first aid station, a toilet with a shower, and a small armoury. He had bigger ones for bigger emergencies, but this was more like a safe stop for when he needed to quickly recover.

“This was the only favor I accepted from him,” he suddenly said defensively, “I’ve been getting by without his help for everything else. Even my weapons are my own.”

“That’s good,” you smiled, “I’m glad you’re doing okay.”

You took off your mask and clipped off your cape, but your vision was suddenly gone. Jason had threw a towel on top of your head.

“Dry yourself off, you’ll get everything wet,” he grunted.

You scruffled your wet hair with the towel and then proceeded to take off your boots and gloves.

“So when were you planning on coming back?” you sat on his bed and watched him take off his weapons and the vest.

“I don’t know,” he simply shrugged.

“So you just didn’t really have a plan?”

“I did. And I went through with it. Now I’m not sure.”

“Not sure about- Jesus, do you really have to do that here?” you asked.

Jason was peeling off his skin tight black undershirt. “My safehouse, my rules.”

“But you have a bathroom, don’t you?” you desperately asked. He was unbuckling his belt, and you forced yourself to look away.

“Yeah.”

“So go change there. I’ll wait here.”

“Are you blushing?”

“No, just go!”

“Look at me.”

“No.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him moving closer to you to stand right in front of you. You felt his grip on your chin, forcing you to turn your head up towards him. There, you met his eyes, intense and bright- brighter than they were before.

“Is it distracting for you?” he smirked, “I worked hard, you know.”

You gulped at the sudden closeness. It had been months since you last spoke to him, and the unexpectedly close contact didn’t help with your nervousness.

He bent down and took your hand in his free one, bringing it up to place it flat against his bare chest, his hot skin burning into yours.

“Can’t you feel the difference?” he muttered, bringing your hand down his chest to his stomach, now sporting a fucking defined eight pack. You refused to look anywhere else but his eyes. “No? Well, how about here, then.”

He pushed your hand down to his crotch, and you definitely could feel how hard he was already.

“Jason!” you gasped, widening your eyes.

He let out a chuckle before crashing his lips against yours, his weight causing you to fall backwards onto the bed. Climbing over you, he started licking at your lips, gently prodding his tongue into your mouth. All the while, your hand didn’t leave his crotch, even though he had released you from his grip.

And you felt him get harder and larger by the second.

“Jason,” you moaned, heat tingling at your core.

You had missed him. Missed his laughs, his glares and insults, his arms around you at night, even his boner poking you annoyingly in the ass.

“Baby.”

And there it was, his baby.

You started to palm his length through his pants, earning a gasp from him that you swallowed.

“Have I proven myself to you?” he panted, going to nibble your earlobe. “I don’t need you. I want you. Fuck, I want you so bad.”

“Okay, holy shit, fine!” you conceded, your hands travelling up his body to caress him, to feel him. “I… I want you to. I’ve wanted you for so long, but…”

“But you didn’t want to take advantage of my emotional instability,” he scoffed. “I know. And I appreciate it. But how about right now?”

“Right now I just really want you to fuck me,” you breathed.

“Fucking hell,” he chuckled, “Okay, sweetheart.”

He started kissing you again, nipping at your lips while he tried to take off your uniform- but failed.

“Why the fuck is this more complicated than mine was?” he complained.

“Because I’m the new and improved Robin,” you winked at him, helping him find all the hidden zips and clasps and buttons. Soon enough, you were in your underwear.

“Fuck, you look better without some fucking guy’s arm around you,” he started kissing your chest, squeezing your breasts through your bra.

“Are you still not over that?” you laughed.

“I get pissed every time I think of it,” he grumbled. His hands went to your back and unhooked your bra, which he pulled away. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

And then he attacked your nipples. Biting and sucking on one side with his mouth, and squeezing and twisting and tugging the other with his fingers.

“Jason, please,” you whined, raising your hips to meet his for any kind of friction. You could feel his heavy length on your inner thigh.

“So impatient,” he chuckled, a hand snaking down your body and underneath the band of your underwear. “It took me so long before I could even come, baby. Remember?”

“Hnngh,” you groaned when he started to run his finger up and down your wet folds, “And you still haven’t?”

He paused and looked at you with a grin.

“Oh my god, you have?” you exclaimed.

“Yeah,” he smiled, giving you another peck on the lips. “It was about a month ago. Slow night. Excess energy. I was lying in bed.”

He slid off your panties with little trouble, and now you were completely exposed to him. You thought you would have gotten shy at one point, but you were so excited to have him there, to have him do things to you, that you didn’t care.

“And I was thinking of you,” he whispered in your ear, his warm breath tickling, “I was thinking about what you were up to. Whether you went out for patrol, because it was raining that night.”

He started circling on your clit slowly with a consistent pressure, causing you to squirm in his arms.

“And I never told you this, but one of the reasons why I waited for you to come back after patrol is because I fucking love seeing you in your uniform,” he continued, “Sweaty, disheveled, flushed with adrenaline, blood pumping. And wet when it rains.”

He stopped working on your clit, but then gently inserted a finger into your hole, making you groan as he went in knuckle deep and then started to slide it out and in and out and in.

“And I just imagined you in your room taking off your uniform. Piece by fucking piece, I could see it in my head, you sighing and frowning because you’re so tired, and just want to shower. And then my cock started to get hard, because I’m thinking of you naked with water running down your skin.”

He curled his finger upwards, pressing against that spot inside you that made you breathless.

“And before I know it, my pants are off and I’m fisting my cock,” he went on, his voice husky, “For the first time, I was actually touching myself and I wanted to come. And all I could think about was you, baby. I thought about how you looked like when you presented your pussy to me that night. I thought about how wet you would be if you were touching yourself at the same time I was.”

With his thumb, he circled on your clit while he fucked your pussy with his finger. It was a little uncoordinated, but it felt amazing all the same.

“And that just opened a lot of doors for me,” he chuckled, “Not that I never thought about it before then, but I was really focused on how you would look like underneath me while I fucked you. I thought about how you would look like with your lips around my cock. I thought about how you would taste.”

He increased his pace, and your eyes were closed then, rolling to the back of your head.

“And then I just knew it, baby. I had to come. Then and there. So I did.”

Fuck, you were on the edge already.

“I fucking came all over myself, moaning your name.”

“Jason.”

“That’s it, sweetheart. Come.”

And you did. You felt your pussy clench around his fingers, your breath stuttering as he made you come.

“Holy shit,” you laughed, “Where the fuck did you learn how to do that?”

“Let’s just hope I’m as good at fucking as I am at fingering you,” he grinned, taking off his pants finally to reveal his hard and leaking cock.

“Fuck, Jason, I want you inside me. Right fucking now,” you whined, spreading your legs for him.

“Patience, sweetheart,” he tapped your clit with his dick, “We gotta take it slow. It’s- it’s my first time too so I’m not sure- I just- fuck, just let me know if it hurts, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay, I’m gonna-”

“Ow!”

“What’s wrong?” he panicked, “I haven’t even put it in yet!”

“Yeah, I know, I was just joking,” you giggled.

“Sunnova- fuck you,” he growled, “It’s not funny. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Don’t worry, Jason,” you reassured, “Just take it slow. I’ll let you know if it hurts.”

He nodded, and fuck, you could see him gulp in nervousness. It was fucking adorable.

“I’m going to put it in now.”

You nodded, bracing yourself.

Feeling the tip of his dick press into your entrance, you moaned in pleasure at the slight stretch. It felt rubbery, and you didn’t even notice when he put the condom on.

He pushed in slowly, checking to see if he was hurting you.

“Ah!” you gasped out loud, “Wait, just stay there for a bit.”

“Shit, okay, I’m sorry,” he replied.

“It’s fine, it just stings a bit,” you breathed in deeply. “Need to get used to it. Your cock is huge.”

“And your pussy is tight,” he groaned, “Fuck, I could just come right now.”

You waited for a few more seconds, and then nodded at him. He pushed in a bit again, and you could see how hard he was holding back.

“Pause, pause,” you gasped, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he leaned forward, burying his face in your neck, “You feel so good. So fucking good.”

“And your cock is massive, Jason, Jesus,” you laughed, “Okay, you can put the rest in now.”

And finally, Jason bottomed out, leaving you feeling full and stretched, and fuck. It still hurt a bit, but for some reason, it wasn’t enough. You wanted more. You wanted him to move.

“You can move now, but slowly please,” you requested.

You felt him nod against your neck, and then he started moving his hips extremely slow, sliding his cock almost all the way out until just the tip, and then pushing it back in.

Jason’s cock filled you up in a way that your walls were already clenching around him. He was already hitting every fucking spot inside of you, which was what made it feel so good in the first place despite the stretch.

“Baby,” he choked. You never heard him like that before. He almost sounded like he was in pain.

“You can go a little faster now, Jay,” you told him.

“I- I can’t,” he said.

“Why not?” you breathed.

“Shut up,” he groaned, continuing the slow and steady pace that already had you nearly spilling over again.

“Jason, fuck,” you moaned. “Please. Faster.”

“No.”

“Jason,” you almost sobbed, “Please.”

“If I go any faster, I’m gonna come,” he growled in your ear.

“Then come, Jason, please,” you cried, “Please fuck me faster and come with me, please.”

“Fucking- fine!” he gave up, and then increased his pace, knocking the breath out of you.

You didn’t feel it approaching like all your previous orgasms. There wasn’t a build of heat that shot sparks to your toes.

No. It came in suddenly, like an attack of sensations that made you writhe and scream while being fucked steadily for the first time by Jason Todd.

“Fuck, baby,” Jason groaned into your neck, burying his face in your skin while he moved his hips, “Fuck. Fuck. Baby.”

And with a long moan of your name, you felt his dick twitch inside of you, his breath stuttering, a hand that was supporting his weight went to grip your hips tightly.

“Fuck,” he sighed, and he collapsed on top of you, cock still inside.

“Jason, you’re heavy,” you giggled, trying to push him off.

“Lemme get myself outta you.”

“Ah!” you moaned when he slid himself out slowly, still sensitive.

“Fuck, sweetheart, don’t go making those sounds or you’re gonna get me hard again.”

“I can’t help it,” you sighed, watching him tie the condom and tossing it. “Your cock feels good.”

“Don’t,” he groaned, landing on the bed next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist, his face close to yours. “Don’t say anything dirty.”

“Okay,” you giggled, snuggling in close to him. “Jason?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you come back now? Please?”

He hesitated before he answered. “I don’t know if Bruce would take me back.”

“What do you mean?” you frowned.

“You guys never found Joker, did you?”

You stiffened. “What did you do?” you whispered.

“I gave him what he deserved,” Jason answered, “And more.”

You stared at him in shock. “You broke him out of Arkham. That’s why there was zero evidence.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “It wasn’t easy, but I did. And I made him pay for everything.”

You reached out your hand to caress his cheek. “Are you okay?”

“I am,” he smiled at you, “They all say that revenge wouldn’t make you feel better. That you’d still feel empty inside. But not for me. It- it gave me closure. It healed me because… Because I know that he can’t get his hands on you and do to you what he did to me.”

After you got over the shock, you genuinely felt happy for him. You would have killed the fucker yourself eventually, but Jason deserved to do it. He deserved to end the life of the person who made his a living hell.

“Bruce doesn’t have to know,” you said quietly.

“He will eventually,” Jason sighed. “It’s Bruce. I’d be surprised if he hasn’t figured it out already.”

“He wouldn’t blame you, Jason,” you told him, “Not- not if he knew. Not if he knew what Joker did to you.”

“He would throw me out,” Jason denied.

“He loves you,” you said, “He loves you, and he will forgive you. Maybe he’d get angry at first, and even then I think he’d be directing his anger towards himself rather than you. He’s changed, Jay. More than you know.”

Jason frowned, mulling over your words. “Fine. I’ll give it a try. But if he kicks me out, I get to say I told you so.”

“He won’t,” you smiled, “I won’t let him. If he does, I’ll go with you.”

Jason blinked at you, surprise etched on his face. “You would do that?”

“Of course. How could I not? I don’t know how obvious it is, but I kinda like you.”

He laughed out loud, “I like you, too.”

“So come back, okay?”

“Fine,” he rolled his eyes, “Besides, now that I’m functioning sexually, it’d be pretty hard to stay away from you.”

“I knew you were a perv,” you laughed, “You have to show me that video. Girl gets-”

“Don’t even. Ever.”

“Jason Kinky Todd has a nice ring to it.”

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd reader #jason todd #red hood #dc #dc comics #batman #red hood and the outlaws #under the red hood

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coffeestainsandcashmere · 3 years

Text

Let No Man Steal Your Thyme - (older Dramione) Chapter Six

Thank you for your patience with this one, folks. Here it is. All 7k words of it... Thank you too for the beautiful anonymous (and otherwise) owls you’ve sent me! I can’t tell you how lovely that’s been!

If this were on AO3 (which it will be when it’s complete), the rating would have gone up to “E - Explicit”, so please make sure you’re the appropriate age to consume it (18+).

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

___

Hermione apparated into an unassuming and rather ugly back street in Whitechapel and took a moment to straighten herself out afterwards. A fine, sheeting mizzle had begun sometime around midday, shrouding the whole of London in a choking, miserable haze, and it hadn’t let up since. It was nothing a subtle impervius charm couldn’t ward off, of course, though it sent Muggles scuttling for shelter or huddling beneath umbrellas in a way that never failed to make her heart twinge just a little for a life that was long behind her.

Miraculously, her hair behaved itself despite the humidity, and had complied with both will and wand so that it now fell in loose ringlets around her shoulders. It was all held in place with more charm-work than she’d done on herself in a very long time, but even she had to admit that she’d done a pretty decent job of it. Pansy would be proud. She just hoped the dress would do its job too and flatter her in the way Theo and Pansy had both promised it would when she’d bought it.

As her heels clicked along on the uneven pavement, she wished there was a charm to ward of self-consciousness. After years of scruffy jeans and soft, woollen jumpers, the dress seemed rather snug around the areas she’d grown a little shy about, but she drew on the well of experience from her Ministry days, squared her shoulders, and set off towards the address Draco had sent her by owl.

Rounding the corner, she nearly stumbled in her heels as she drew up suddenly short. Standing with arms folded, shoulder blades pressed heedlessly against the masonry of the building behind him and his whole body tense as a piano string, stood Draco Malfoy, scowling. Whereas she had forgone a bulky cloak in favour of a warming charm, he cut quite the figure in the heavy, black garment, fastened at the throat with a silver clasp that seemed to match his hair.

As her heels announced her approach, he looked up, looked away, did a double take, and then levered himself off the wall with a slightly slack-jawed expression.

Theo was right, she smiled to herself. I probably owe him a drink now or something.

When she came to a halt in front of Malfoy, she couldn't help the way her lips twitched. He looked a little like he’d been slapped. “Evening,” she chirped, and watched his throat work as he swallowed thickly, pupils blown wide in the dark.

“Granger,” he said. “You… You look…” He floundered, and then to her immense surprise and absolute delight, his cheeks flushed a deep, vivid pink and he looked away.

“Likewise,” she laughed, ostentatiously eyeing him up and down, though the cloak revealed little. “Though that was pretty much a given.”

“I didn’t mean —” he began, snapping his gaze back to her face with his grey eyes wide. “You just…” Then he laughed and forcibly relaxed his shoulders, exhaling through his nose. “I should have known you’d leave me a babbling idiot again,” he muttered, subtly offering her the crook of his elbow. “It’s like third year all over again.”

“Third year?” she said as she accepted and slid her fingers under his arm. “I punched you in the face in third year.”

“Mmm,” he said. “And I don’t think I ever truly got over it.”

She laughed and he relaxed a little more beneath her touch. “So I’ve never actually heard of this place, but Theo said you have to know the owner just to get a table…?”

“Yes,” Draco said. “I hope you don’t think it’s too much, but after everyone was staring at us in the Leaky, I thought it might be nice to go somewhere where people have a bit more… discretion… My mother’s side of the family has been friends with the owner’s for generations.”

“I’m sure it’ll be perfect,” she said as he steered her towards a blind arcade of sandy-coloured bricks that flanked a large stretch of the street.

“It’s concealed with an enchantment like the one at Kings Cross,” he said as they approached the third one in the row. Glancing up and down the street, he stepped halfway into the wall and held his hand out for her to take, as if she were a lady about to alight into a carriage. He clearly saw her burning with interest about the spellwork and added, “Some scholars believe it was the first instance of the charm’s use in London.”

She beamed at him, took his hand, and allowed him to steer her through the wall.

When they emerged on the other side of the illusion, she found herself in a cosy, dark-tiled entrance hall, illuminated with tiny lumos charms. A waiter in smart, black and white livery appeared almost immediately from the main restaurant beyond, and bowed politely. “Lord Black,” he said and then turned to her and offered a seemingly genuine smile. “Ms. Granger. If you’d like to follow me please. My lord, may I take your cloak?”

Malfoy unclasped it and handed it to the man, but Hermione wasn’t watching that. She was too busy staring at the way he looked in his suit beneath.

Draco Malfoy had always been a creature of harsh lines and a cool palette, but this time the sight of him actually robbed her of breath. Though his outfit was understatedly simple, the slate-blue suit, with a crisp white shirt and a silvery tie had clearly been made bespoke for him, and it fitted him to perfection, emphasising slim hips, long, lean legs, and a breadth to his shoulders that spoke of strength without raw bulk. The only hint of colour to him lay in the residual flush from the cold in his pale cheeks, but his eyes sparkled warmly enough.

“Shall we?” he murmured, a hint of shy embarrassment to the corners of his mouth that she’d rarely seen in his youth, and she nodded, still mute. She wasn’t sure if he was shy about the waiter’s ‘my lord’ or the way she was gawking at him like a teenage fan at a Weird Sisters concert.

He ushered her in front of him, and she followed the waiter through the restaurant.

All the while they walked, she was intensely aware of Draco behind her.

Naturally, once she’d got past all the initial ‘oh my god is my skirt tucked up into my knickers’ panic, she tried a little experiment and began to sway her hips a little more than usual. Pansy had once told her she had the walk of a ‘dowdy headmistress charging down a corridor towards the sound of troublemakers’. Even if she’d said it in jest, it hadn’t exactly inspired confidence in her ability to sashay sexily through the tables in front of someone she was hoping to impress, but by the time they were settling into her seats, she noted a very slight rise in the colour in Draco’s cheeks again, and chalked it up as a victory regardless.

“Can I get you some drinks while you wait? I’m sure you’re both aware that the restaurant is chef’s choice though.” He did not offer any kind of drinks menu, however, and Hermione’s already fragile courage sputtered.

Draco nodded curtly at the waiter, and then looked expectantly at Hermione, who cleared her throat and said, “Look, Draco, I’m already a tad out of my depth here. I think I’ll leave the decision-making to you tonight and save us both the embarrassment…”

His lips parted slightly, as if he were going to speak, but a soft look crossed his face before he inclined his head. “Wine alright?” he asked and she nodded.

He ordered two glasses of a white he’d never heard of.

Before the waiter left, he enquired about any allergies, and when both replied that they were fortunate enough not to have any, he retreated, and Hermione blew out a soft breath.

“It’s not too much, is it?” Draco asked, shoulders high and tense again. All the recent colour had drained from him, and he looked faintly nauseous.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, gazing around at the vaulted room. “And this is a real treat, Draco. I’m really glad you asked me, though I promised your owl I’d have words with you about her manners. Damn near lost a finger to that beak of hers.”

“Apologies,” he said, voice a little hoarse. “She was a gift from my mother after my own owl was lost after the Battle of Hogwarts. She’s been a menace to me and my unfortunate correspondents ever since.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. The bird was much older than she’d expected, but then again she shouldn’t have been that surprised; the Weasley’s had had Errol seemingly for generations after all before he’d finally snuffed it.

She hadn’t really taken note of the other patrons of the restaurant on their short journey through the tables to the secluded alcove, but now she glanced around again and saw that the place was full, though there couldn’t have been more than fifteen covers. The other diners were not witches or wizards she recognised, and no one seemed to be paying anyone else the slightest bit of attention, to her relief.

Relaxing a little, she looked back at Draco who sat with his hands folded neatly atop the dark wood of the table, his silver signet ring glinting softly in the light of the little candle between them. His gaze was intense, and his expression a little awkward. He was as nervous as she was, she realised. Maybe more.

He pursed his lips briefly and then said, “It’s quite different from a lot of the restaurants in Diagon Alley, largely because of the building’s history, I think.” He stopped, as if worried he was about to bore her and instead blurted quietly, “I’m glad you like it.”

The place had clearly once been an enormous foundry building, but since being repurposed, it had been divided up from one open casting hall into cosy little niches and alcoves of sandstone brick, with large, industrial panes of glass filling the spaces between the dividing arches. It felt private without being claustrophobic; atmospheric but not dingy or oppressive.

Taking another breath, Hermione smiled at him and admitted, “It’s been so long since I’ve been out for dinner with anyone, Draco. It’s almost embarrassing really. And Theo doesn’t count in this context,” she added with a flash of her eyes.

“Likewise,” he muttered, carefully pouring her a glass of water from the carafe between them before filling his own.

Again, she noted his hands. Somehow they were simultaneously the elegant hands of a nobleman and the rough, scarred hands of a man who used them for a living — spotted and flecked with innumerable small scars — and she found herself instantly fascinated by the story they held. The last person she could recall with hands in that condition was Professor Snape.

She nearly said that Draco at least had good reason for not going on dates with every witch in Britain, being a widower, but she bit it back and said, “Well, that should make things easier for both of us. Tell me though, I’m dying to know why you had to go to France at such short notice. Your letter was too cryptic.”

Draco’s face softened and he sipped his water. “We have estates there still,” he said, not meeting her gaze. “One of the wards was triggered, so I arranged a portkey to check up on it, but it was nothing in the end.”

“Nothing? Come on; it usually takes magic to trip a ward, Malfoy. There has to be some story there…?”

His eyelashes looked like strands of silk in the candlelight, pale and silvery as they framed his grey eyes, and she almost forgot to listen to his story as he flicked his gaze back up to meet hers again.

“It really isn’t very interesting. One of our tenants has an elderly mother and she is unfortunately not as… compos mentis as she once was. She used to work as a maid for my maternal great-grandmother. It turned out that she had wandered up to the main house in the middle of the night, spoken some long-forgotten spell to gain admission, and had tried to prepare breakfast. Of course, there was nothing in the larder, so she became distressed. Her daughter collected her and sealed the house up again, but the owl didn’t reach me before I left England.”

“I see,” she said. “Another case where modern Muggle communication methods might have come in handy,” she chirped under her breath, and he hummed softly in agreement, though he didn’t seem to understand fully. And then because she was a nose bugger who couldn’t help herself, she asked, “Do you have a lot of properties then? Other than the house in Wiltshire?”

She caught the smile in his eyes and he nodded. “One or two,” he said with bashful modesty. “A number of my father’s holdings and inheritances were confiscated by the Ministry in reparation for war crimes, but my mother was allowed to keep much of what was hers and, by extension, mine.”

“And those are in France?”

He shook his head, and with regret she watched him becoming increasingly uncomfortable. “There’s a place in Scotland - not far from Hogwarts, actually - and one in the arse-end of nowhere in rural Romania. It’s the Malfoy side that has the connections to France, though that one I just mentioned is the only one left to us now.”

“I see. I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to pry. I was genuinely curious, that’s all.”

“It’s fine,” he said. “You can ask me whatever you like.”

She smiled and said, “I didn’t even get to inherit my parents’ little house in Surrey because of a complication with the will, so it’s all a world away from what I know… Has Scorpius been to these other places?”

“Not really,” he said, “Though mother and I took him to the vineyard in France last summer before school started.”

Hermione tipped her head back, exposing her neck a little, and smiled. “My parents used to take me to France during the summer holidays,” she said dreamily. “Little stone cottages that smelled of lavender, with long, dusty driveways and rooms that stayed chilly no matter temperature outside. Sometimes when it got really hot, those adorable little lizards used to come out and bask in the sun on the wall. My parents were dentists, so we weren’t exactly all that short of money growing up —” nothing like you though, she wanted to add but didn’t “— and they always tried to choose a place with a swimming pool. I used to love to swim.”

Draco’s expression was unreadable, but there was a light in his silver eyes that shone like a full moon. He swallowed thickly and had been on the point of speaking when the waiter returned with their wine and a small amuse-bouche for them.

He set the tiny plates down and stepped back. “Blini with trout roe caviar and crème fraiche.”

“Thank you,” Draco and she said as one, and the waiter nodded and left them to it.

Draco raised his glass and Hermione tried not to stare at his long fingers or the way he held it so gracefully by the stem as he lifted it. She felt like she might fumble and drop hers if she tried to emulate that, but she did her best. After all, she’d endured a fair few dinners and functions at the Ministry, so she was hardly about to embarrass herself now, however hard Draco seemed to make it.

“Thank you for…” Draco began, trailing off into uncertainty. His eyes turned glassy and he blinked rapidly a couple of times. “Well, thank you for giving me a shot, Granger. I know I have a lot to make up for still, but thank you for joining me tonight.”

She smiled and playfully chinked her glass against his. As the soft chime of glass on glass dissipated, she said, “Like I told Theo after his little chat, to which I understand you were also subjected —” he nodded wryly but let her continue uninterrupted “— I wouldn’t be here if I believed you were still the same person you were at Hogwarts. There was so much going on back then, and we were all pawns in a larger game to one extent or another. By this point, I’m honestly happy to let the past lie and look forward.”

He exhaled expansively. “I’ll drink to that,” he muttered.

Their food when it arrived was incredible; never too much (or too little, she was pleased to note), or too fancy so as to be basically inedible. They talked lightly while they ate, mostly of the goings on of people they had in common: Theo and Dan, Pansy, and Blaise.

By the time they were halfway through dessert, Draco said, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” she smiled. “Why should you be open to any and all questions, but not me?”

“Just because I said that about me, doesn’t mean you have to take the same stance, Granger.”

“True, but this is a date, right?”

He swallowed. “If you’d like it to be.”

“All on me?” she chuckled. “I’ll admit I was rather hoping it was.”

“Then it’s a date,” he said quietly.

“Well, shouldn’t dates be about getting to know the person better? Ask away, Malfoy. Whatever you’ve got, I can take it.” Within reason, she added privately.

His answering smile was dazzling, and it brought little dimples to his cheeks that she’d not noticed before. It made her heart beat oddly in her chest, and a new heat pulsed between her legs.

“Good lord, Malfoy,” she hissed, “You’re handsome when you smile like that.”

He pursed his lips and flushed a dark pink right up to his ears.

“Sorry,” she said, still laughing a little. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. But I’d be happy to encourage more smiles like that in the future. What was your question?”

He opened his mouth, cheeks still pink, but his eyes turned serious. “Why did you really quit your job as Minister? You were so young…”

“I peaked too soon,” she shrugged easily enough, though she felt the playful mirth settling down again in a way that had nothing to do with the chocolate dessert lying heavy in her stomach.

She sat back in her seat and picked up the remnants of her wine, swirling it thoughtfully for a moment.

“I felt like…” she stopped and changed tack. “At school I felt like all I amounted to was how smart I could be, you know?”

His brows flickered into a frown, but he didn’t interrupt her.

“I didn’t have the looks of someone like Fleur or Cho, or… Lavender,” she said, raising her eyebrows inadvertently. “All I really had to validate myself was my latest test score, or how useful I was to Harry, or how much research I could condense into one last-minute panic whenever the latest life-threatening event popped up…” She sighed. “I think that set me up for failure when I left school and discovered it wasn’t all about grades and how many facts you could regurgitate.” After a slight pause, she cocked her head and said, “Nobody likes a smart-arse after all.”

The brief colour in Malfoy’s face had drained to parchment white again as he listened, and he sat perfectly straight in his seat, tense and serious once more.

Nervously, she began to babble a little. “So… I obviously cottoned on to that after I started at the Ministry, and I adapted, and I did pretty well at the DMLE. They kept asking me to be an Auror because of my spellwork, but I freeze up completely under pressure, and I’m a terrible dualist, so that was out of the question. I do much better behind the scenes - always have. But…” she sighed and drank a little more wine as her monologue threatened to run away with her. “To answer your original question, I lost sight of where the line was,” she said.

“What line?”

She shook her head, loose ringlets shivering with the motion. “The line between work and family, I suppose. I took on more and more work to try and prove my value, and stayed later and later every night at the Ministry. I didn’t even realise I was losing our marriage until it was far, far too late. Ron and I argued an awful lot towards the end, but somehow it was still a shock to me when he asked for a divorce.”

She tucked a stray ringlet behind her ear, revealing a simple silver earring.

“It was like I was so wrapped up in all this work — which I could have delegated, but I was still it doing anyway because…” she puffed her cheeks out and shrugged, “…because that’s just what the Minister for Magic does, right?” With a final sigh she finished her wine and said, “So a week after the divorce went through, I was sitting in my office, and I looked at all the memos still zipping around in front of me, and I just thought… ‘this is my life. This is all I am’, and I quit that afternoon.”

“Brave of you,” he murmured.

“I didn’t feel like it at the time,” she said, grateful beyond words at his reaction. No one, bar perhaps Harry, had reacted that way back then. They’d all thought she was nuts. “I spent a month in a Muggle cottage in the middle of nowhere in Pembrokeshire, and then another five months back here in London doing almost nothing. I was a complete mess. It was around then that Ginny got pregnant with Lily, so I was there for her quite a bit, looking after Albus and James and teaching them. That was fun. I really enjoyed that. I think… I think brought me back down after the chaos of quitting my job like that, you know?”

“Children can do that,” he commented wryly. “You and Weasley never had any though.”

She’d seen the blow coming — set herself up perfectly for it — but it still caught her full in the chest. She swallowed and shook her head, unable to look him in the eye for reasons she hoped to keep secret from him. “We tried, but…” she shrugged. “It wasn’t to be. Not long after that though, I saw the advert for the bookshop, and I’ve never looked back.”

Draco frowned. “I’m sorry.”

“It was probably for the best anyway. I don’t think I’d have made a good mother back then. I barely made time for myself, let alone for a family.” She cleared her throat and then asked, “Speaking of sprogs, did you find out why Scorpius is in detention?”

He barked a laugh at that and she found herself relaxing again as he let her artlessly change subjects.

“My dear little mandrake somehow brewed a stink bomb in his dormitory and set it off in the library near some Gryffindors. They’d apparently been mocking Albus for being a Potter in Slytherin. Did the job so well that the Gryffindors smelled of rotten eggs for a week, no matter what they tried to get rid of it.” He seemed quietly proud of Scorpius for that, and she couldn’t really blame him, knowing what a talent Draco himself had had for potions back then.

Her face did darken at the news of Albus being bullied though, and she made a note to check in on Harry. Then she reeled back through his last sentence, to the part where he’d called Scorpius his ‘dear little mandrake’, and chuckled. “You still call him that then?”

“What, ‘mandrake’?” Malfoy seemed surprised by her question.

“Mm.”

“If the shoe fits, Granger. I’ve never heard of a child that could scream like Scorpius, so when you dubbed him that, it kind of stuck.”

A huge smile dawned on her face and her stomach swooped somehow.

“What?” he asked.

“Draco Malfoy is a huge sap,” she said. “Who’d have thought it?”

He rolled his grey eyes but couldn’t keep the answering smile off his face. “Don’t broadcast it, Granger.”

“It’ll be our secret, I promise,” she said.

Draco’s gaze slid over her shoulder a little while later and he signalled the waiter with a subtle raising of his pale eyebrows.

When the man appeared, it was not to take payment in coins the way every other wizarding establishment did, but it was with a parchment and quill for him to sign. It struck her as oddly modern for the magical world, akin to a cheque or even a credit card. Transaction complete, the waiter departed, leaving behind a small tray of delicate petit fours.

“Draco, I don’t think I can eat another thing,” she said, looking wistfully at them.

“I can ask them to box them up for us if you'd prefer?” he said.

With that done, they rose and headed out. Draco collected his cloak and swirled it around his shoulders, and they stepped through the illusory wall and back into a damp, Muggle London.

“Draco,” she whispered, standing on the pavement beside him and becoming very aware of just how tall he was now, even with her heels to help.

His eyes were dark, pupils wide once more, as he regarded her. “Mmm?”

“I don’t want tonight to end,” she whispered. “Isn’t that silly?” She almost sobbed as she thought about going back to her sorry little empty apartment after spending all evening either smiling or laughing or really just… talking.

“No,” he replied. After a beat of silence, he hissed, “Granger, may I kiss you?”

“Yes,” she breathed, and parted her lips as he brought his warm, slightly rough hands to her jawline and held her delicately. He moved as if he were convinced he still wasn’t allowed to touch her at all, but when she smiled up at him, he exhaled roughly and returned it faintly.

Then he leaned down, angling his head slightly to the left, and brushed his lips against hers so lightly she almost missed it. He still tasted of chocolate and wine, but she chased the retreating gesture hungrily, pressing her lips against his, placing her hands on his hips and drawing their bodies together. She could feel how sharp his hipbones were through the fabric of his trousers and it made her ache inside and out to map his body.

Draco moaned and his eyes fluttered closed as he kissed her; gently at first, and then, as a fire kindled in him, he became more demanding. His teeth nipped at her lower lip followed by the tantalising brush of his tongue that left her tingling all over. Unquestioningly, she let him deepen their kiss until they were both breathless, and she could feel his growing arousal where she pressed her body against his.

Panting, Draco finally drew back, still without taking his hands from her face. He stood stooped, his eyes closed, his teeth sunk into his lip. “Granger,” he breathed at last.

“Are you going back to the Manor?” she asked, feeling slightly giddy.

“No, I have a flat in London. If you… If you wanted to come back with me, you’d… you'd be most welcome.”

“Is it far?”

“We’re probably best apparating from here,” he said, finally lowering his hands, though he didn't step back.

She could have counted every one of his silver lashes if she’d had the concentration for it. As it was, her core burned, and she was suddenly wetter and more turned on than she could ever remember being.

“You could side-along if you’d like?” he rasped.

She frowned, the fog in her mind starting to clear just a fraction. “You don’t have wards up?” When he pursed his lips, the knut dropped and she laughed. “You already adjusted them? That confident were we, Malfoy? I don't know whether to be impressed or insulted…”

His cheeks darkened and he chuckled. “More like… I was being hopelessly optimistic. But I don’t want you to feel pressured, Granger. We can call it a night here if you’d prefer.”

“Thank you for that,” she said quickly, but she took hold of his fingers where they rested by his side, and squeezed his hand. “But we’re not in our twenties, and we don’t have to pretend to wait for the third date or whatever to know what we want. Besides,” she added with a glint in her eyes, “If I have to go any longer than another few seconds without your mouth on me again, I may just explode.”

Pleasantly stunned by her affirmation, Malfoy recovered quickly, and kissed her again. It was not chaste or fleeting this time. “Ready?” he asked when he eventually straightened.

She nodded, and clung to him as the unpleasant, hook-like apparition spell took hold of both of them and yanked them across London to the centre of Malfoy’s living room.

He let her catch her breath before robbing her of it once again with kiss after kiss, over and over. Then he moved his attention down her neck until she was gasping, chest heaving, and hot all over. Her small clutch hit the floorboards as her fingers went limp, and he shrugged off his cloak and jacket, dumping the clothes on the nearby white sofa before returning to her.

She had barely had time to take in the sleek, austere, and rather soulless furnishings of the apartment before he was sucking a bruise at her collarbone and she flung her head back with a broken cry of pleasure.

“Gods, Granger,” he said between kisses. “I’ve wanted to do that to you all evening.”

“You have?” she laughed as his hands skimmed down her sides to her hips and gripped her tightly.

He growled something inarticulate and then moved his touch to the zip at the back of her dress. “May I?”

“I’ve thought about you doing that all evening,” she said playfully, eliciting another growl from him before he had turned her and drawn the zip all the way down to the small of her back.

“Oh Merlin and Morgana,” he purred appreciatively under his breath as he began kissing her where she stood, working his way over her shoulder blade and down to her bra clasp. He raked his teeth over the slightly freckled skin of her back and then delicately drew the shoulders of her dress down so that the fabric pooled around her waist, leaving her upper body exposed in only her bra.

He moved her to face him again and continued to undress her, staring wide eyed and hungrily at her in a way that made her squirm, heat and wetness pooling between her legs. When he got to her matching underwear, he knelt before her on the floorboards and kissed her lower stomach and hips before sliding his fingertips under the dark lace and caressing the impossibly sensitive skin where her groin met her thigh.

“Granger, sit back for me?” he asked and she sank, shaky-kneed, onto the sofa behind her. Self-consciousness crashed through her as he continued to stare openly at her and she swallowed.

Clearly sensing something was wrong, he looked up and frowned. “Is… Is this alright?” he asked, hands faltering where his fingertips rested on the inside of her thighs.

“Yeah,” she said truthfully. “Just… Well…” she inhaled and then let it go with a nervous laugh. “It’s been a while since anyone’s seen me without my clothes on, Malfoy. And even with yours still on, it’s hard not to feel a bit… you know…”

Malfoy snarled, lip curling. “You’re exquisite, Granger,” he growled. “I’ve been half-hard all fucking evening. Let me show you how bloody gorgeous you are?” he asked, and with that, he spread her legs a little more and drew her underwear to one side.

He skimmed the pad of his thumb slowly, reverently over her clit and she bucked, abandoning much of her embarrassment as a jolt of pleasure seared through her. “Oh God, Malfoy…” she grunted as he kissed up the insides of her thighs, occasionally closing his teeth over her skin.

“Can I taste you?” he asked from his vigil on the floor between her knees.

“Yes… God, yes…”

And with that, he drew her underwear down while she hitched her hips up to help, and his mouth closed over her sex. The sudden, pressing heat of it made her head loll back and her spine arch, but then he brought his tongue to her and laved a long stripe up over her folds and circled her clit and she shuddered.

“You’re so wet,” he breathed, sounding astonished.

“Mmm,” she said. “Not the only one who’s been thinking about this all night,” she laughed.

“Fuck…” he hissed to himself as he returned his mouth to her.

The steady motion of his tongue dipping occasionally inside her before returning to suckle and lick at her clit had her shaking and clutching the sofa in minutes. Nothing that anyone had ever done to her had ever felt this good. Heat built inside her like a stoked furnace and she arched again while Draco held her with both his arms beneath her thighs, drawing himself into her. He was going to bring her to her peak with nothing but his mouth.

“Draco I’m going to come,” she gasped. “Draco… Oh fuck… Draco!” and with that, she shattered. A convulsing wave of heat and blinding white light ripped through her and she cried out, head thrown back, mouth open, eyes screwed shut as Draco kept his tongue pressed to her pulsing clit and eased her through it.

When he sat back on his heels, his lips were puffy and shone from her arousal, and he gazed up at her as if she were some kind of goddess. His eyes were blown dark, wide with a kind of reverent lust that she’d never imagined him capable of.

He looked her up and down and smiled.

“I didn’t even take my shoes off,” she laughed a moment later as the realisation dawned.

“I know,” he smiled. “That was partly what made me lose it so quickly. You clearly have no idea how fucking incredible you look, Granger.”

She had to smile at that. How could she not smile when he was still kneeling between her legs and the evidence of his own arousal was plain to see.

“Would you like me to help you out of them?” he asked.

“Please,” she said.

His hands held her ankle so delicately that she bucked again, though the movement was muted. He caressed the bones of her ankle and after he had slipped her feet from the shoes, he set them to one side and rose gracefully to his feet. He held out his hand and asked, “Bedroom?”

“Unless you want me to ride you here on your living room couch,” she said and his jaw slackened slightly. “Then yes.”

He led her, naked save for her bra, to a room just off from the sitting room, and while he still had his back to her to focus on casting a soft lumos spell, she unclasped her bra and let it fall to the floor. Drawn by the sound of it hitting the carpet, he turned. In two steps, he had crossed back to her and in his right hand he took a handful of her hair and tipped her head back, while in his left he cupped the weight of her right breast and moaned against her mouth.

“Are you trying to get me to spill in my trousers like a teenager, Granger?” he hissed.

She laughed. “Let’s get you caught up then,” she said, and began to undo the button and zip at his waistband. He stepped out of his trousers and left them crumpled on the floor, and she whispered, “You have the most incredible legs, Draco. I’ve always thought so.”

“You have?” he asked, hands going to begin on his tie and shirt buttons while she ran her fingers around his lower stomach beneath the waistband of his black boxer-briefs.

“Mmm. I know I didn’t like you as a person back then, but even I have to admit you looked incredible out there in your quidditch kit.”

He smirked, clearly pleased, and fumbled a button.

“Let me?”

His cock twitched noticeably, and he raised his chin a little, hands falling limply at his sides. Before she’d managed even a single button, his fingers had found her hips again and he began tracing idle circles with his thumb over her skin.

Hermione took her time undressing him, and when she finally peeled back the front of his shirt, she bit her lip at the sight of his torso. Without removing his shirt completely, she brought her fingertips to his pecs and trailed them down, circling one nipple without quite touching the dusky pink bud, and then moved down over the clear ridges of his abs. He was in incredible shape, seemingly without an ounce of fat on him anywhere. She swallowed, throat dry.

“How are you even real?” she found herself whispering. “Draco, you’re beautiful…”

He flushed from his collarbones, up his neck, all the way to his ears, but didn’t move. His eyes fluttered closed, and as she drew back the fabric of his shirt a little further, she noticed a long, silver scar slashing across his chest like the after-image of a lightning strike. It stretched from his left shoulder, across his chest, down to below his right ribs and, she realised as she followed the line of it with her fingers, he had a second right above the waistband of his boxer-briefs. A third, smaller scar curled around his left hip.

“Is that where…?”

“Potter,” he hissed through closed teeth. His smile was sad, like he’d long ago forgiven the boy for lashing out with a spell he’d never even heard of.

It was only as she pulled his shirt slowly off his perfect, marble shoulders, that she remembered his Dark Mark. Instantly her eyes went to his left arm, where all of Voldemort’s followers had borne his brand, and there in fading, dark, smudged ink, sat the leering skull with its coiling snake.

“Don’t,” he snarled softly, drawing his arm back away from her. “Don’t look at it.”

“Alright,” she said.

His eyebrows rose, as if he’d expected her to argue and lecture him somehow, but instead, she hooked her finger beneath the waistband of his one remaining piece of clothing, and pulled his underwear carefully down, freeing his cock.

Pre-come beaded instantly at the flushed head, and he inhaled softly as she smiled and pressed her palm into his hip, steering him back towards the bed.

In a daze, he let her move him, and he laid his head back on the pillows, hair as white as the cotton beneath, and stared up at her with his eyes dark and lidded. “Granger,” he whispered, and she straddled him slowly. His hands found her hips as she sank down and rocked her wet folds up the length of his hard cock. At the contact, he gasped and jerked his sharp chin up towards the ceiling, heels digging into the mattress behind her. “Oh fuck, Granger…” he said.

“Mmm?”

“Oh gods. Oh Merlin… fuck…”

“I’ve reduced him to a babbling idiot again,” she giggled, and he laughed too. The sound was open and free and truly delighted, and she leaned down and took his nipples between finger and thumb and tweaked them slowly.

A deep, guttural groan left his throat and the tendons jutted out in sharp relief against his neck as his whole body went taut. He tried to buck beneath her, but she held him firmly between her thighs and he dug his fingers into the muscle of her legs hard enough that she thought she might bear the marks of it afterwards.

Draco began to pant as she rolled herself repeatedly along his cock, luxuriating in the gliding contact.

Then she heard him hiss a contraceptive spell, and she almost laughed. Clearly it was little more than a reflex for him, and she didn’t interrupt him for it, but the surprise of it nearly brought her out of the moment altogether. Next he had brought his hand to his cock and was guiding the head to enter her. She was slick and sensitive from having come already, and he eased into her without resistance.

She was, however, as he declared in a broken moan, “…so fucking tight…”

Hermione began to rock again once he was seated inside her to the hilt, but he grabbed her hips and curled his torso in on itself, panting. “Don’t move, Granger. Fuck. Don’t fucking move.”

She smirked. “You’re that close already?”

“Shut up,” he snapped without sting, and then let his shoulders drop back down to the mattress behind him again. “Fuck…” he laughed, almost shyly.

Then he surprised her again by reaching his hands up to her shoulders and suddenly the world tilted, and she found herself beneath him and lying on her back on the mattress. She parted her legs a little further, allowing him deeper, and he growled again. He looked ethereal as he loomed over her, all pale skin and silver hair, and her core tightened.

“You’re going to make me come again, Draco,” she whispered as it built inside her anew. This time it was less raw and needful, but no less intense.

And with that, he began to move. At first, he withdrew until he was almost all the way out, leaving only the tip of his cock inside her, but soon enough he sank back down to the hilt with another glorious groan. Picking up a rhythm that soon had him heaving for breath, he raised one of her legs and hooked her knee over his shoulder, her thigh to his chest. With that new angle, he hit her so deep with every stroke that she saw stars.

“You’re going to come for me, aren’t you Granger?” he rasped. “Gods, I can feel it. I can feel you… you’re so tight. You’re perfect, you’re… Granger…” he grunted and then he was coming. His torso clenched and his head bowed low, and the rush of his release inside her and the way he clung to her shoulders tipped her over the edge and she followed him.

Malfoy raised himself on shaking arms a long moment later, one hand braced on either side of her head, and looked down at her. His white hair was dishevelled and a sheen of sweat stippled across his forehead, but it was his eyes that held her. Dark and glassy, he stared in open wonder at her, and then he smiled.

“Granger…” he whispered, and she laughed with elation as she kissed him.

___

Chapter Seven

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#dramione #dramione fic #older dramione #draco malfoy x hermione granger #hermione granger x draco malfoy #draco x hermione #hermione x draco #let no man steal your thyme

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