#shout out tumblr for deleting this hell yeah

[cyberghouleo]

Habit x Bimbo! reader headcanons

He loveees how ditzy you are. He already views humans as weak, but with how naive you are it makes him want to protect you ten times more. 

He almost always has an arm wrapped around your waist or over your shoulders, pulling you tight to him if anyone else is visiting. He also finds any reason to have you sit in his lap, pulling up your skirt so your panties are up against his jeans. He doesn’t care if company is over, he needs to show them you are his. 

Speaking of, he loves seeing you in skirts. He will purposely drop and knock things over in front of him and politely ask you to pick them up for him. He loves seeing the way your panties poke out as you bend over, your skirt riding up and exposing your ass to him. He will do this multiple times a day, and you always pick them up for him. 

He is so used to dealing with stupid people on a daily basis that he has started to grow a hatred for them, stupid ass humans who can’t seem to realize the simplest thing. But his opinion changes once he meets you. He could tell from the moment he first met you there was not a lot going on in your head, but that’s okay! He loves how dumb you are, you never ask questions about what he does and you believe all the lies he says. 

He loves the way your eyes light up and how eagerly you nod along when he suggests you suck his dick. He doesn’t even have to outright say it sometimes, he can just suggest it and you will bite your lip and agree instantly. He uses it as an excuse to cure the random symptoms he gets. 

“Wow this headache really hurts. I wish there was some way to help with it.”

“Oh my god, are you okay Habit?!”

“I think so. I really think it will get better if you let me cum in your throat though."

And you believe it and drop down to your knees, tugging off his pants at record speed just so his headache will go away. You would be a bad girlfriend if you didn’t try to help your boyfriend's pain after all!

He doesn’t even have to corrupt you, you follow every command he says instantly. If he says to get down, you instantly drop to your knees and have your tongue out for him. If he says to bend over you bend and flip your skirt up, looking back over your shoulder at him with a smile.

He loves how obedient you are and will reward you for it. He’ll eat you out until your a sobbing incoherent mess, too overstimulated and fucked out to form full sentences to beg him to stop.

And he teases you endlessly for it.

“Aw, is it too much for you baby? You know I'm just rewarding how good of a slut you are for me, just cum for me one time, okay?” He lies and you just nod along as tears pool in your eyes, too dumb to realize he says this every time. He makes you cum 4 more times after this promise.

#habit emh #habit x reader #habit everymanhybrid #bimbo reader #everymanhybrid #emh #smut #x reader #slenderverse #two posts in a row?? crazy. #shout out tumblr for deleting this hell yeah #toby bimbo reader is happening sooner or later i promise #then the main 3 bimbo will be done haha

[teatreeoilll]

|| Flustered (Geto Suguru X Reader) ||

(Reposted from my old blog which I don't have access to anymore (thanks Tumblr), if you liked it reblogs or likes would be appreciated to get me back on track since I've lost all my followers and half my work :(

in which reader has a big crush on Geto (don't we all?), just kind of me tapping into the funny post-credits vibes of jjk. notes: I even kept the small headlines I made for each part because it felt cute, might delete later.

w/c: 1.1 k

screenshot credits to user yutamayo.

-

The part where Geto Suguru likes seeing you flustered.

You were sure Geto Suguru hadn't the slightest idea of what he was doing. Because if he did, it would make him a devil.

He'd always sit patiently waiting for the end of class before coming up to you, just to place a large hand on your shoulder while you were still sitting in your seat, letting it linger there for far too long as he spoke.

"Be careful, yeah?" He heard passingly from Shoko about the mission you were about to take on with one of the older sorcerers.

"Always am." You smile, thinking that if he doesn't move his hand off of your shoulder soon, the warmth of his fingertips might burn through the fabric of your uniform.

"That's not what Shoko says," He gets down on his knees to face you and tilts his head lightly, a dark strand of hair grazing the side of his nose. It would be impolite to not look straight at him now - the eye contact he kept so easily made the blush creep to your cheeks. His hand moves to rest on your thigh. There's no chance in hell he doesn't know what he's doing.

"Huh?"

"Are you feeling okay? Your face looks red, you shouldn't go if you feel sick." He says.

"I'm - fine, I just -" Your chair scrapes the floor as you get up abruptly, "I don't want to keep Mei Mei waiting."

Did someone tell him that I have a crush on him? You thought while stumping down the hall, the only one who knows is Shoko, and there's no chance she'd do that. Damn it.

-

The part where you learn that if you ever ask for something of Mei Mei, be very specific.

It doesn't help to wipe the sweat. It just mixes with dirt and blood that covered you from head to toe, leaving your vision blurred and your moves sloppy. Mei Mei has it all under control - as she usually does, with her battleaxe swinging elegantly through numerous curses each instant, leaving their severed parts to rest on the dirty linoleum floors, but it doesn't mean she'd let you off easy.

"You should at least try to focus, or you wouldn't live long enough to have any chance of getting together with Geto."

huh?

"I'm sorry. I'll focus." you mutter shamefully.

The mission ends almost instantaneously when Mei Mei finds the curse responsible for the recent killings, her blows unwavering even at the horrid sight. You knew you weren't at your usual level on this mission, but Mei Mei's words have shifted your focus completely.

The car ride was silent except for the sound of your uniform's fabric brushing over the car seat every time your leg bounced restlessly, thoughts running back and forth through your mind.

"Mei-Mei, How'd you know that -"

She didn't even wait for your sentence to finish; "Gojo paid me to send a raven to pry on yours and Shoko's conversations."

"Oh," fuck, "wait, shouldn't it be a secret?"

"He paid me to snoop," a smile grazed her lips, "not to keep a secret."

-

The part where Gojo Satoru faces imminent death.

"I'll kill you, Satoru!" You shout, but Gojo only likes it more. He runs around the class pretending that all the things you're throwing at his direction will actually hurt him. He hides his tall figure poorly behind desks, giggling every time another part of school property passes his head by a few inches.

"And end a bloodline just like that?" He teases.

Shoko stands silently in the doorway, watching the scene unfold. She puts a cigarette in her mouth, ready to turn away from the class and leave you to deal with Gojo in any way that you see fit. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Geto approaching the classroom, oblivious to the new developments.

"Ieri - " He tries to say something, but she just slowly shakes her head "No".

"Wouldn't go in there if I were you." Shoko closes the door behind her, muffling the conundrum of threats and laughter coming out of the room.

In the hall, Gojo's mocking words could still be heard through loud thuds of heavy objects hitting the floor, "D'you really wanna' kill your boyfriends best friend?"

-

The part where Geto Suguru is so, so sorry.

Geto felt the guilt rush over him now that you knew that he had flustered you very much deliberately. You've ignored him for almost a week now, which by any means would be considered a feat, seeing that you've spent hours together in classes and practice almost every day. And even when he came to apologize, befitting a Jujutsu sorcerer, you stood before him in the hallway with an unholy amount of unwavering pride.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that, especially when I knew that you have a crush on me." He had stated the obvious, but still somehow managed to lie. He really wasn't sorry - his heart fluttered everytime he saw your face turn crimson under his touch.

"Had." You corrected.

"Had?"

"Yeah, had a crush on you."

"Oh, so you don't anymore?"

"No." You lied through your teeth, but you were rather convinced that if you'd just keep focusing on the anger you felt, the feeling will blow over eventually anyway.

"That's understandable," He says, taking a small step closer to you, just to test the waters. When you didn't move, he raised his arm slowly, pressing the palm of his hand to the side of your face, watching your body involuntarily eliciting the same response he longed for. On the tips of his fingers he clearly felt your jaw tense up slightly, and the heat gathering quickly in your cheeks, "But I just can't have that happen. You look so cute like this, you know?"

It was futile to resist his kiss, his whole body felt like it belonged to be pressed right against yours. Your pride melted against his tongue, his lips only stopping when he had to draw a quick breath. By the time his hand was entangled in your hair, it was too late to try and regain the last shreds of dignity, and so you opted to wrap your arms around him to press your bodies even closer.

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen X reader #jjk geto #jjk getou #geto X reader #geto X you #geto X y/n #geto suguru X reader #getou suguru X reader #geto suguru #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x y/n

[bazzybelle]

Good Omens 2 and Wayward Son - A Fan's Commentary on Fandom Reactions

I’m going to start off by saying apologies for any obvious grammatical errors. I am writing purely from the heart here. 

Also, apologies to my Sandman friends. If you haven’t read The Simon Snow Trilogy, this will go over your heads. However, I have been going back and forth on writing this meta since the release of Good Omens 2, and I just finished reading a spectacular meta on queer ships becoming canon by @avelera, which you can find here (read it, it’s brilliant). Anyway, I feel now’s a good time to let out all of my feelings when it comes to Good Omens 2 and how similar it was to reading Wayward Son. 

Simon Snow friends, you all know that Wayward Son is my favourite book out of the trilogy. You also know that this can be considered a controversial take within the fandom. And I don’t mean that in a toxic way, this fandom is one of the more wholesome fandoms I’ve seen; But in the way of like… Wayward Son is itself a polarizing book. 

I say this, knowing full well what went down when Wayward Son was released. Perhaps I had the advantage of not being completely embroiled within the Simon Snow  fandom until after I’d finished reading the book, but I lived on the periphery. I followed Rainbow on Twitter (fuck you, I am not calling it X), I had saved some artwork on Pinterest (before I found out those were stolen, wherein I immediately unpinned them and deleted my fandom folders), and I was excited to get Wayward Son as soon as it came out. So much so that I asked my husband to go to the Indigo near his office and buy it because I wanted to read it right away. 

Friends, I demolished that book within a DAY. 

Then I read it again. And again. And again. 

Then I wrote my first fanfiction in eight years. 

This book changed me. But you all know that. I’ve talked about it often, and that’s not what this meta (Editorial? Opinion piece? Shouting into the void?) is about. 

What I am going to talk about is the amount of pure vitriol this book got once it was released. There was SO MUCH complaining about the book. It was too short! There was no point to it! Why aren’t Simon and Baz having sexy vampire sex? Why aren’t they living together (never mind that this was briefly discussed at the end of Carry On, but go off I guess)? 

And you know what’s even funnier? Within a couple of weeks (it might have even been days, I’m a little fuzzy on timelines) Rainbow announced the third book. We knew, right away, that Wayward Son was meant to be an in-between book! Rainbow, being a fandom person herself, has said time and time again that she had always considered Wayward Son as an in-between book, structured like The Empire Strikes Back within the Star Wars original trilogy. Like think of the in-between books of any series, they are ALWAYS the darkest ones. In order to fully appreciate the win in the end, you need to go through the tough shit. 

What I loved about Wayward Son was it took that idea and spun it. It went all “ok, yeah we dealt with the win, now let’s deal with the aftermath. Only then can we have the makeouts and sexy times these guys deserved.”  (and damn, did Any Way The Wind Blows deliver on that promise).

But I am getting away from myself again. Point is, it was always meant to be an in-between book. There was always meant to be a resolution at the end of the trilogy. But that sure as hell didn’t stop people from outright demanding Rainbow give them the happy ending NOW. Pestering her on Twitter, (not so much on Tumblr) demanding she do this, or do that, or “you better not kill Baz” (even though she has ALWAYS SAID SHE NEVER WOULD) or “they better not break up” (even though, narratively, it was heading in that direction). The closer the book got to release date, the more people complained about how awful Wayward Son was. 

It was really disheartening to see. 

Which is why I got really upset when the SAME THING happened after the release of Good Omens 2. 

(For clarification purposes, because several of my friends have spoken to me about their own personal issues with Good Omens 2. And you are all super fucking valid. I am strictly referring to the amount of anger I saw online because although Aziraphale and Crowley kissed, they didn’t have an immediate happily ever after. I am also speaking of the anger expressed because the season wasn’t wrapped up in a neat little bow.)

Like with the release of Wayward Son, people seemed to have forgotten that season 2 of Good Omens was meant to be an inbetween season. Neil Gaiman has not been shy to talk about that. He has said over and over again that Season 2 was always meant to be a bridge between the Good Omens he and Terry Pratchett wrote together, and the sequel they had been planning. 

What… did you all just forget about that? Do you not know how narrative writing works? 

It’s like people refused to take a step back and breathe for a second and appreciate the season for what it was. A beautiful romantic story (because, IT WAS! Just like Neil said it would be), as well as a lead up into what will be the epic, dramatic conclusion. No, instead people started demanding the happy ending NOW, and getting angry when Neil wouldn’t budge and offer more information (even though he never has before) (funny how people just… forgot that).

It was Wayward Son all over again.

Yeah, I’m not going to lie, I was crushed with the way Good Omens 2 left off. Just like I was so confused when Wayward Son ended out of the blue. You know what I did about that? I wrote fic, I read the book again, and I happily anticipated the upcoming final part that would tie up all the loose ends.

Know what I’m doing to heal after Good Omens 2? I’m looking at gifs, rewatching episodes, laughing at memes and crack, and hoping to all the gods of story writing that Amazon approves of a third season, so that Neil Gaiman can be allowed to finish the story he and Terry Pratchett built together.

It’s become sad to watch this feral hunger from fans demanding immediate gratification, and getting upset when it isn’t the ending or gratification they were expecting. Wayward Son came out after years of Carry On fans having nothing else but the one book. Like I said, I wasn’t part of the fandom then, so I don’t know how fans from 2015 felt upon learning they’d get more Simon and Baz. Same with Good Omens. I only really got into the fandom a few months before season 2 came out. So I don’t know how OG fans felt waiting and waiting and waiting. So maybe I have that going for me as an advantage, that my hunger wasn’t growing more and more feral. 

Then again, I’m now a part of The Sandman fandom, and we’re essentially waiting on Season 2 to start development. And while I’m hoping a few things are tweaked (like Dream and Hob’s relationship), I’d be more than fine if it stays the same as in the comics. And if they decide to go about that in an entirely different way, I’d be fine with that too. You know why? Because I’ve learned to trust the writers of the stories I love not to lead me astray. 

And if I’m unhappy with something –because nothing is ever 100% perfect, and even my favourite stories end up coming short– there are always fanfictions to write, gifs to laugh at, and fandom friends to discuss plots and meta with. 

I may have lost the point of this meta. I tend to do that, following a train of thought that doesn’t always make sense in the end. 

Fandom friends, can we all just agree to take a breath and be thankful of the stories given to us? Can we learn to appreciate the entire picture, and not just a tiny section of it? And for the love of all that is holy, can we learn to be patient and to listen when our story tellers remind us to wait and see? To trust them when they assure us that our characters will have a happy ending, even if they need to traverse a little in the dark to get there?

I sure as hell am, and I hope you will too. 

Gonna tag @carryonsimoncarryonbaz because she was instrumental in encouraging me to write this.

#belle babbles #more like belle shouts into the fandom void #GO2 just reminded me A LOT of Wayward Son #both with the fan reaction #and with the overall vibes #I may write another longer better thought out meta comparing the two #but for now I just wanted to get my initial feelings out #as a fan who loved both WS and GO2 #who was very sad to experience this nonsense twice #simon snow #baz pitch #the simon snow trilogy #snowbaz #wayward son #anthony j crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens #good omens 2 #neil gaiman #rainbow rowell

[charmedreincarnation]

Since 2016 I knew about the law of assumption, I was struggling hardcore with my mom and was looking for ways to make money and out of the blue a law of attraction video pop up, tried that, it was hell then search on google to get more info then I saw law of assumption, search it and apparently all I had to do was affirm ofc I didn’t believe my affirmation and the “law” but the person said to persist ( and I was desperate)so I decided to manifest my mom having 10k ( with fcking tears in my eye because we REALLY needed to pay rent plus my baby sis and I didn’t eat anything for a week) then boom 8 mins after my grandmother called and said she has 5k to give us and my mom was sooooooo fcking happy I was grateful but I wanted 10k( because I remembered the woman said don’t settle for less) then after the landlady called my mom and said she needs to collect her Cheque in the mailbox but the fcking thing is my mom check that same fcking morning and few minutes before to see anything for us and nothing just spiders, so my mom went and collect it only to see we have over 5k in the cheque and obviously tears was spilled and a lot of shouting my mom went on her knees to thank god but I didn’t tell her anything honestly just let her do her thing and she even made my sis and I thank god which I did obviously, then I decided to play a little greedy and manifest my mom to give my sis and I a little 100$ to shop ( for snacks and drinks)and few seconds after she told us to organize and then handed my sis and I a 100$ to buy anything we want,that day made me believe the law is real and I continue manifesting a lot of things from there, just affirming and persisting because that’s how I was taught it and it worked for me.

I downloaded tumblr because some people in the comments said it had more info and success story, downloaded it in 2017 and didn’t know how to handle so I deleted it then 2019 decided to download it again and I get a better understanding of the app and I did see success stories and other stuff about the law apparently but I choose to ignore I just search got7 stuff ( huge kpop fan back in the day) deleted and came back here in 2022 and saw stufff about the void and saw success stories to I decided to try it just to test it and honestly I got through because I saw a whole lot of affirmation and I was lazy so I only use one but I got in in the first try felt extremely comfortable but exit the fck out because my life is already perfect the way it is, I just lay on my back and said I am the void ( even though it was uncomfortable) while falling asleep and apparently I discovered I did the lullaby method but yeah, states vs a+p doesn’t make sense honestly because I see a lot of people write stuff in journals and got what they wanted an 369 method and so on, so it was very funny to me watching a+p and states fighting honestly they look extremely dumb and ignorant but it is what it is I’m enjoying life with my method which is a+p and just on tumblr for a fandom I’m in (yes K-pop)

Congrats! It’s wonderful how you the law changed your life for the better. I hope everyone takes something out of this post lol.

#law of assumption #manifesation #manifesting #my asks #law of attraction #void state #void success

[fan-goddess]

aaah I’m so excited for your kinktober fics! Could I request Billy Washington and public sex + getting caught?? I’m thinking maybe they’re in the pub, too worked up to make it home and tries to do the nasty outside in the alley but get caught?? Feel free to change it if you’d like another direction! 🫶💞 - @adragonprinceswhore

Authors Note: So sorry for accident deleting the first time. I hate tumblrs writing thing. Still, I hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: P in v sex, public sex, they get caught,

Taglist: @adragonprinceswhore, @sofiyathecunt, @marvelgirl123, @sylasthegrim, @mochi-rose, @valeskafics, @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @blue-serendipity, @omgbrcat,

The pub had practically been dead for a while now. The only people still here and drinking being you, billy and his mates, as-well as some other much older men who were much too busy watching the football on the telly to care about anything else.

From what you had heard of the men’s conversation when they shouted at the poor barmaid, it was an important match between Liverpool and Man City what made them kick up such a fuss with her.

However, much to your relief, Billy wasn’t that keen on watching the match play out. He was only keen on watching you.

The nice top you had on was new. One that Billy hadn’t seen yet. But by the way his eyes widened and his mouth hung open in shock when you walked from your shared room saying it was time to meet up with his mates at the pub, you certainly guessed he approved of it wholeheartedly.

Billy approved of it so much it seemed, that his hand hadn’t stopped trying to sneak up your skirt the entire time you’d been sat down.

“Please Billy, will you behave!” You whispered as you frustratedly turned to him, taking his hand which had successfully managed to get to your upper thigh in your own, and forcing it to lay between the two of you.

“It’s not my fault your bloody tits are spilling out and making it hard for me to concentrate!” He hissed back, motioning to your chest in demonstration, leaving you to hit him slightly on his chest with the back of your hand for his indecency, smiling politely when one of his mates turned around to look at the two of you.

“Might I remind you we’re in public?”

“Might I remind you that your tits look fucking fantastic? I can’t help my boner!” He said.

Still, you attempted to ignore him. Thinking Billy would realise the situation the two of you were in the fact it couldn’t happen given where the two of you were.

Only he didn’t stop. Billy Washington, the man you’re currently hating to love, successfully managed to put his hand up your skirt four times. With each successfull feel riling you up more and more in the worst way possible. By the fifth, you were half tempted to actually fully let him cop a feel of you, given how much he’d managed to affect you in somehow less than around an hour and a half.

The match the elder men had insisted on being put on in place of some random episode of pointless had reached half time, and you were all but ready to take advantage of Billy’s mates interest in the game to drag Billy away somewhere and have your way with him.

Yet it seems you don’t have to, as Billy’s satisfied grin seems to speak for itself.

“Oh shush!” You whisper. “Tell your mates something came up and we need to leave!”

“Oh? And why would I do that? Is there something we need to do?”

“I need you to fuck me soon or I’ll go fucking insane. That’s what we need to do.” It’s blunt as hell, but definitely effective. Billy’s eyes seem to widen and simultaneously darken with want at the sound of your words.

“Sorry mates Lana’s just texted me! Says she needs my help with something important! See you on Sunday for football though yeah?” Billy quickly says, not even giving any of the lads any time to actually answer before he’s grabbing ahold of your wrist and dragging you out the door.

If you’d have stuck around for a minute, you’d have seen the amused looks of the boys as they exclaim about how Billy’s phones been dead since this morning.

Still, the only thing the two of you are thinking about it looking for a good place to shag. Which much to your slight horror and to Billy’s delight, is the alley literally behind the pub.

“We can’t do it here!” You hiss as Billy pushes you against the hard brick wall. “I’m gonna get some fucking disease!”

“But no one will be out here! And you know I can’t resist you!” Billy smiles as he bites and sucks at the skin of your cleavage. Every time his teeth sink into you, the grip on his hair tightens and a small broken noise of pleasure gets released to the open air.

“You’re so insatiable!” You giggle, guiding his head to yours to lock lips with him, the wet sounds of your kissing echoing on the empty ally.

You blindly move to undo Billy’s belt and trousers, giggling slightly when you need have to force yourself away from him to see what you need to do to release his cock from its denim restraints.

When though Billy’s trousers and pants are down enough and you’ve moved your underwear to the side, Billy wastes no time in quickly thrusting himself inside of you and groaning at the feeling of you gripping him.

“Always so fucking good…” Billy groans against your lips as he begins to thrust.

“So are you baby…” You say, grinning slightly at the way he preens at the unfamiliar compliment.

It’s surprisingly soft the moment, considering what it was the two of you were doing and where it was happening. Yet it doesn’t seem to stop either of you.

Billy’s hands are methodical in how they pleasure you. With one hand trailing down to touch your clit with feather like precision that you have no idea where he learnt, and the other trailing upwards to carefully squeeze and play with your confined tits. Overall, he somehow made you feel similar to something baking in an oven. Slowly rising and rising with the heat of it all. And you always loved it.

“Oh fuck” You whine as Billy’s cock manages to caress your sweet spot.

The sound of your voice draws Billy’s attention away from the sight of your cunt swallowing his cock, and when he looks at your face he feels his breath shallow. The sight of your pleasure stained face so eager for him makes him want to cum there and then.

“So fucking good! Fuck so fucking perfect!” You whine, as you kiss Billy once more, the sight of his preening face making it way to hard not too.

It’s too many sensations at once, as your sweet spot gets bullied by the head of Billy’s cock as he manages to somehow hit it every time, even as he goes soft and slow for you, and there’s the feeling of his thumb trailing small shapes on your clit. Let’s not forget his swollen lips making you feel like you were in heaven as you mind slowly begins to go fuzzy at the corners, or Billy’s other hand that pinches and squeezes at your confined breasts.

It was like there was this sort of bubble surrounding the two of you find yourself cumming hard on Billy’s cock, that of course triggers his orgasm too, the feel of him filling you making your head slightly spin. Yet all bubbles break sometime...

“Mate what the actual fuck?” A sudden voice shouts.

There it is, the sound of the bubble breaking into a million pieces.

The two of you quickly turn to see where the sudden noise came from, and it’s to your utter relief when you realise the two of you weren’t naked. Still, there’s so much embarrassment and shame on the both of your faces for being caught, Billy’s especially, that it’s smothered almost instantly.

It takes a couple of seconds for you to realise who exactly caught you, but when you realise it’s one of Billy’s mates you can’t for the life of you remember the name of, you turn to Billy with a pleading look for help.

“Can you bugger off and forget this ever happened mate? Please?” Billy pleads. Much to your amusement, he can’t seem to meet his mates stare in the eye, only looking at the hard concrete by his feet.

“Sure sure mate I won’t tell a soul!” The man says, mimicking a padlock on his lips before beginning to walk away with a grin smeared on his lips.

When you and Billy turn to each other again, you can’t help yourself from pecking his lips before moving to try and get yourself looking presentable. A strange sort of silence only interrupted by the sounds of the London streets that occurred every so often.

“We’re never going that again, are we?”

“Never say never baby…”

#billy washington x you #billy washington imagine #billy washington x reader #billy washington #billy washington smut #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell character #my works #my k!nktober #k!nktober

[whereisloe]

Glimpse of Us

you’re a bitch and call out for sb else in your most intimate moments,,,boo on you

eren x reader x jean

WARNING, nsfw under cut

A/N, new to posting on tumblr and i’m not sure how getting hate really works on here if it happens at all so please be kind to me or tell me to delete my acc i don’t control you

you dragged red streaks of fire down the brunette's back as his thrust grew relentless. hips slamming together, as you laid there helpless against his inhumane strength. one hand pinning your knee to the mattress as his other arm, horizontal to your head. "please" your plead being choked out as a hushed whimper only fell upon shut ears as the fire in his eyes seized to shy away.

"you'll take it, slut."

"you'll take it, slut."

vocals laced in poison, eren chuckled as you were wailing out your cries of painful pleasures. your cheeks were drenched in your own tears and sweat because of this man's ungodly stamina and recovery. feeling as though flames were encasing your gentle skin has you shouting curses, wanting nothing more but eren's sweet release.

that's when the idea popped in.

solely out of curiosity, you considered screaming out another's name amidst his climax. well, this idea became a reality as soon as his thrusts fell sloppy and his grunts aggressive.

"a good whore would die for this cock."

"oh! fuck—shit, yes, right there!", you swallowed another curse, as you mentally prepared yourself to inflate this little ego of eren's, that he's developed over the course of your time spent as a couple. "—ah, jean.", you brought you lips to eren's ear, making sure he heard the obviously exasperated mewl of his friend's name.

"what the fuck—!", your spine practically jumped from inside you as eren's hand came in harsh contact with the headboard. holy shit, you were in shock considering how close you were to it. you stared up at eren as he searched for his next course of action through your eyes before quickly pulling out. you laid there stunned at the sudden outburst before feeling you leg being moved. eren had tossed your knee over the other. "you fuckin'—"

"—eren, calm the hell down. i was just fucking with you", you defensively explained yourself as eren had already made his way to your bathroom. "eren! don't ignore me” not even the second half of your sentence was heard by the brunet before the echoes of wood and metal colliding sounded. the knot in your stomach hadn't subsided, on the contrary, the fearful feeling of earlier had you drooling over eren's aggression. once you regained your composure, you, without any hesitation, flew towards the bathroom door and attempted at the handle only to gain a stuck knob. "eren—fuck, i need you", you kept turning trying to knob until finally the door was unlocked and pulled it open. "please, i was just messin' with you, baby. m'thought you could take the joke", the burning sensation of your needy body only grew you pled the taller. as a response he gripped your face and looked down on you. everything was said in his eyes, the green in his eyes had lost their slight glimmer leaving nothing but the facade of rage tainting his features.

impatiently, you closed the gap between you two grappled him into your lips by the strands of his hair. he kissed back almost instantly overpowering you as his hand slid from your face down to gently encompass your neck.

"don't do that shit, again. do you hear me?", eren gave you throat an experimental squeeze before watching you helplessly cling to his body for closure.

“loud and clear, baby.”

jean

"yeah, just like that, gorgeous—mmm"

jean's voice was lowered to a mere murmur as his hands stuck to your waist assisting you as you moved. he drew senseless shapes against the bone with the harsh pads of his thumbs, attempting to keep his mind at ease.

his mullet had been a mess spilled all over his pillow and face as his head tilted backwards leaving his nape wide open for you merciless antics. soon, your lips met with his jugular almost melting on impact from his heated skin. this action encouraged a mellowed grouse to resonate within his throat, giving you a sense of confidence as you carried on. after gently running kisses up and down his neck, you began lifting your hips causing a rather lewd sound that came from the sudden shift. you sat up straight watching your boyfriend's adam's apple bob in anticipation.

he was nervous. it wasn't like this had been his first time with you, no. he was terrified of the amount of pleasure you caused him. so much, after you two were done enjoying each other's company it would leave him aching for that tight cunt on days' end as you were mindlessly worked to death by your job. so, when you did have time off you two made sure to waste not even a second of this rare opportunity.

"you're so beautiful up there, you know.", jean praised through a whine as his concise yet deep breaths sounded melodious to your keen ears. you began at a steady yet gentle bounce in his lap, experimentally. his muscles tightened along with his jaw as you sped up, feeding into your own pleasures as well. "so, so, beautiful—", once again, his voice was cut off by another wordless plead. using his shortness of breath as a motivator, you started lifting your hips up off his and slamming yourself back down to up the intensity. "fuck!"

"yeah, you like that?" you feigned ignorance towards his sounds and expressions. "oh my god—", you let out arguably the most sinfully attractive mewl known to man as jean gripped your hips and began fucking himself into you. in the moment, you could only process the serious wave of pleasure building up in your stomach but in the background of your mind you were infuriated. it had been your turn to top but still jean took things into his own hands and ignored your agreement. that's when the idea popped in your head, you were going to hurt his heart but his ego needs a bit shaping.

"ah, so fuckin' tight."

“mmm—n…no fair,” your train of thought had become blurry so remembering to call of another’s name became quite the hassle but nonetheless, you sat both your palms to his chest and lowered your lips to a mere hover over his ear. Then you’d weakly croon, “—gentler. please, eren” so sweetly. jean thought of you no less than an angel both inside and outside your intimate moments. even when your hand held the side of his face so softly as you bluntly torn his heart, you’d been beautiful. he remained silent, allowing you to take the reigns from here on. eventually, the moment had slipped your mind and you proceeded towards both your climaxes.

the following morning you’d wake up, alone.

#aot eren #eren yeager #eren yeager x reader #eren x yn #eren x you #aot x reader #jean aot #jean kirschtein x you #jean kirschtein #jean x reader

[femchef]

Over the last few weeks, I’ve found myself in the position of reassuring fandom people (observers, creators, writers) and. I’m going to say it all here - and I want you all to take a deep breath - deep, in and out, maybe a good four or so times - and listen.

Opinions from antis don’t matter - especially when they enter into your space, that you made for yourself and your fandom friends. They really don’t.

Do you know why so many of us oldies love ao3? It’s that marvelous tagging system. Tags are like the warning colors on a poisonous frog okay? The person who ignores all the things they don’t like in the tags, who jumps in and then gets upset - because they don’t like the ship, or the content, or they don’t like au’s or plots/timelines deviating from canon, or they don’t like OCs or SI’s, they don’t like XYZ-cest, etc - that person does not matter.

If they leave a rude or combative or argumentative comment - well cool, bro they are entitled to their opinion but that opinion has no bearing on what the creator is doing in their story. At all. That comment can be deleted, that person can be blocked or just flat out ignored. They’re shouting into a void of relative anonymity on the internet and I cannot emphasize exactly how little that actually matters at the end of the day.

I’m certainly not going to apologize for liking what I like. I’m here to have fun. “Your fav is problematic” hell yeah, my fav is problematic - it makes them interesting. I don’t care that you don’t like them? Why should I care if you don’t like the things I like? I don’t like gray colored cars - I think most of them are ugly. My opinion doesn’t matter to a person who likes the gray car they’re driving? There is absolutely no reason my opinion should matter to them at all.

If my neighbor across the street has tacky colored curtains in her windows, am I entitled to thinking they’re tacky? Heck yes.

Am I entitled to walk into her house uninvited and then throw a tantrum because her living room decor is hella tacky? Uh no. No I’m not. Friends listen - those ugly-ass curtains are my first and only necessary clue telling me we are not gonna agree on style choices.

Besides, my neighbor doesn’t get to bitch at me because I have a two foot tall tin rooster sculpture on my back porch. If my neighbor feels like telling me it’s tacky - “well ok? What’s your point? It’s my rooster”.

So if I’m scrolling on ao3 and see something tagged with a ship or topic I don’t like, y’all I’m gonna give it a miss. Just. Skip right over it. It’s not my sandbox - which is another thing.

You used to see in disclaimers from older fandom sites something to the effect of “I’m just playing in [XYZ author]’s sandbox”. I really love that, because at the end of the day, we are all here to have fun. If you’re not having fun, that’s totally ok!! You can go home, you don’t have to share this sandbox with other people! That is 110% alright to take your bucket and go dig somewhere else! No one is going to build the same sandcastle. This is what curating your experience on the internet and in fandom is ALL ABOUT. If you’re not having fun - if you’re uncomfortable or unhappy, it’s ok to move on. It’s good and healthy to move on!!!

To keep with the sandbox metaphor:

We’re all here to have fun. If someone says something in a fandom space (discord, twitter, tumblr, ao3, literally anywhere), and it makes you upset - you need to put a little distance between you and that situation. It doesn’t matter if it’s an anti or someone super hard-line about their favorite RPF boyband shipflavor. If you get more than passingly annoyed, and you can’t set it aside, then it’s time to go home for the day. Come back tomorrow to hang out. It’s okay. It really, really is.

I’ve seen some authors and artists who let aggressive commenters drive them away and it’s really heartbreaking. Fandom spaces are weird and fringey and goofy and fun and expressive. It’s so fascinating - it’s a space where a lot of people who create in it are doing so with no expectation of compensation beyond the pleasure of the creative act and (maybe, hopefully, joyfully) other people will appreciate the thing they made. So while we’re here, let’s go over another point:

1) The creator doesn’t owe you anything.

2) People invading your creative space with rude criticisms or demanding comments about your update schedules do not matter.

As a person creating fanworks - I am so happy when I get notes or kudos or comments or questions!!! It helps keep me creative! It helps cheer me up on a really bad day!! They’re wonderful.

But you’re not paying me to make stuff for you. You didn’t purchase a product or service from me. We didn’t enter into any sort of contractual arrangement. I am literally not beholden to you at all.

Authors and creators don’t owe you anything. If you decide you don’t like something about their work or art or even things more personal - politics, opinions, car colors, whatever - that. Is. OKAY. It’s so totally okay. That means you get to move on to something or someone you like more! You are not beholden as a reader or as a creator!!!

Look. Do I enjoy fanworks tagged parental!Roy in the fma fandom? Heck yes - I eat up found family like a starving woman who’s never seen a buffet in her life. Do I enjoy fanworks tagged Roy/Ed in the fma fandom? Hell yes - absurdly intelligent people with trauma and daddy issues is catnip for me. I don’t have any problems separating these two in my head. They’re different genres. Do I also love Ed/Win ships in the fma fandom - hard yes, there’s something nostalgic and whole-grain sweet that is for sure my cup of tea. Do I also love Win/Pan ships? Chaotic girlfriends 210% yes. What about Havoc/Al? Eh. Not really my jam, I tend to give that a miss. Ed/Envy? Nah, that’s a hard no for me. Does this mean I’m going to go into a fic with tags I’m not interested in or actively dislike and read or interact with it anyway?

Uh no. No I’m not.

But what about if it just pops up in a fic and it wasn’t tagged and I wasn’t expecting it?

Well - that’s a little inconvenient for me as a reader, but. Beyond leaving a polite comment asking the author to consider tagging the significant thing I didn’t like, I just. Stop reading. And move on.

That’s it. That’s all that should happen.

Oftentimes the best thing you can do is just. Let. It. Go. If you’re not having fun in the sandbox anymore just go play in a different one - go home, go hang out with other people. But just. Let it go.

Same thing applies to comments - someone drops a comment in your inbox that they really hate xyz and they want you to know they’re upset about it? Just delete the comment. You are not their therapist. You’re not their meatspace friend. At the end of the day, the person who submitted their comment is an anonymous person to you, and it’s not your job to manage their feelings or their discomfort. You don’t have to be an asshole about it - trigger warnings are a thing - but, conversely, they don’t have to be an asshole about it either.

This post is getting a bit long. But please - the salient point is that you should be having fun in your creative spaces out there, you have no reason to feel ashamed of the things that make you happy or bring you joy.

Antis don’t matter at the end of the day. Let them die mad about it. Just have fun playing in the sandbox.

#fandom #fanfiction #ao3 #fanfic writing #antiship #fandom spaces #proship

[graceful-starker]

Jailbroken Hearts Finale

Summary: some bits and pieces into Peter’s last eleven months in prison, and then a sort of epilogue.

Warnings: mentions of past abuse, rape, death, and murder. Also actual murder and death, blood, very mild because in Tony’s mind death is kinda boring at this point.

Notes: So all of the other parts were on my Tumblr that got deleted so I don’t have the link to them but here is ao3! This is one of those fics where the story was so hyped and so well received that I was scared of making the ending for fear of it being disappointing. But here it is!

As always, this can either be read as irondad/spiderson, or non-sexual starker. Completely up to you.

~~~

Peter feels a lot closer to Tony, after that night. The vulnerability and honesty is something he knows no one else has ever seen, not even Rhodey.

It’s a few weeks later, and the gang is hanging out at the usual table for breakfast. Clint yawns and takes a sip of his coffee, rubbing his eyes. “Who the hell was making all that noise last night?”

Steve smirks and laughs softly. “Guy named Quill, he got into it with a guard yesterday. Earned himself a beat down.”

Clint huffs in annoyance. “He needs to learn how to bite his tongue, or next time it’ll be two best downs.”

“New shipment in today,” Tony says, not listening to the gang. “I’ll bet everything I own Bucky is in this one.”

Steve perks up at that, starting to bounce his leg. “You really think so?”

Rhodey nods, taking a bite of his breakfast. “Yeah, he was sent to jail after the trial a week ago. Should be in this shipment.”

Steve looks like he’s on cloud nine, and Peter feels sort of floaty. This is his first time meeting new people as someone who’s been here a while. “I can’t wait to see him. You aren’t getting any sleep tonight either, Clint.”

Clint groans in annoyance, sipping more coffee. “You suck.”

“Yeah I do,” Steve teases with a wink, which makes Clint pretend to gag.

Rhodey looks up from his own breakfast, seeing people starting to file out early. “Show time.”

Tony closes his paper, looking around as well. “Alright. Clint, go scout. Come on Peter, let’s get you a good spot to look.”

Peter nods and stands up, stretching a bit. “Will Cap be with us?”

“Yep,” Steve says, following. Rhodey is taking over my usually position so I can watch him come in. Let’s go.”

They make their way to the best viewing spot, listening to people talk, speculate, and make bets. It takes a while for the new inmates to come, but the doors finally open the shouting starts.

Peter hides in Tony’s arms, feeling nervous with all the screaming and stomping. Tony merely shushes him, holding him close and glaring at the closest inmates.

Finally they start walking through, and Steve starts to yell once the third person comes through. “Bucky!” he yells, waving his arms.

Bucky looks up, searching the crowd until he finds Steve. A smirk graces his face, and he blows Steve a kiss.

Tony watches them file in, face expressionless. Peter goes back and forth between watching Tony’s face and the new inmates filing in.

Suddenly a man taps on Tony’s shoulder, and Peter feels his heart rate pick up. Tony turns to him, raising a brow.

“Mr. Stark,” the inmate asks, nodding politely. “That new one down there, the one with red hair and a long beard?” Tony narrows his eyes, but nods slowly. “I have a request.”

Tony huffs. “Get on with it.”

The man nods again, shifting his weight. “I know that rapists are usually your thing, but he...that man raped my daughter. I’m in here because I tried to kill him out there. He’s been in the hospital since I tried it, but obviously he’s good enough to get in here. My request is that I can finish the job myself.”

Tony looks down at the man, watching him. “You can have one chance. If he’s alive tomorrow still, I won’t give you a second try. Understood?”

The inmate nods, thanking Tony and stalking out of the entry hall.

“That was nice of you,” Peter manages to quake out. Talking about pre-planned murder still scares him.

Tony hums, pulling Peter closer to him and watching the inmates file in. “I know. You’ve made me soft,” he accuses in a whisper.

Peter giggles, starting to relax a bit. The new inmates are marched off to closed off rooms, where they will spend the rest of the day getting cleaned, getting new clothes, and being walked through the rules of the prison.

“Come on,” Steve says to them, nodding his head in the other direction. “Let’s go kill time while we wait.

After killing the entire day doing mostly nothing, they’re finally forced back into their cells for the night. Steve and Bucky share a cell, and they do, in fact, keep the entire prison up all night with their reunion.

They were so loud, that the guards didn’t notice the screams of pain and fear coming from the red-haired new inmate’s cell.

~

Peter bounces excitedly next to Tony, ignoring the looks he gets from Bucky. Bucky is nice and all, but he has very little patience.

“Okay kid, what the hell is wrong with you?” Bucky finally asks.

Tony glares at Bucky, and Steve elbows his lover. “Never do that again,” Steve hisses under his breath.

Peter doesn’t let it bother him though. “It’s visitation day,” he says happily. “And Tony agreed to meet May with me today.”

Rhodey groans in annoyance. “I can’t convince you to meet Pepper in years, but two months with Peter and you cave to meet his aunt?”

Tony glares at Rhodey over Peter’s head. “His aunt doesn’t want to bring my family up to me, or give me anything.”

Rhodey tsks and rolls his eyes. “She gives you things anyway, you know.”

“I’ll never see it, doesn’t matter.” Tony shrugs again.

“My kids are coming,” Clint says to change the subject. “Finally.”

Bucky hums and gives Steve a look. “You don’t have any visitors this month.”

“I have a visitor that never leaves,” Steve corrects, kissing Bucky softly on the lips.

“Let’s go ladies,” the guard calls. “Cells or visiting area, you know the drill.”

Peter beams and grabs Tony’s hand, rushing them to the visiting areas. Tony doesn’t usually walk that fast, but he only grumbles his complaints instead of stopping Peter.

“Parker,” a guard calls. “Visitor.”

Peter happily goes to the assigned room, and squeals when he sees May. “May!” he calls, sitting and pulling the phone to his face.

“Hi...who’s that?” May asks, pointing to Tony. Tony waves at her, and Peter moves the phone so they can both hear.

“This is Tony Stark,” Peter says, leaning into the older man. “He’s my cellmate. He takes care of me and stuff.”

“I just-” Tony looks down at the phone. He’s never used one of these before. “I just make sure other inmates don’t give him sh-any problems.”

May narrows her eyes at him, pursing his lips. “Ahuh. Peter listen, I’m working on saving up extra money-”

“No, May. It’s isn’t worth it. I can’t go to college anymore.”

“You will go to college!” May yells, getting emotional. “You’re too smart not to.”

Tony lights up at this. “You can’t afford college?” he asks. “I have money.”

May narrows her eyes at him. “I don’t want illegal money.”

“It’s legal,” Tony says, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. “Inheritance. Plus, my parents’ company is in my name, even if I can’t run it. You ever heard of Stark Industries?”

May suddenly pales, putting her hand on the glass. “You’re the Tony Stark that brutally murdered his father.”

“That isn’t the whole story, May. You only know what the media says-”

“I saw the video!” She yells, looking over her shoulder. “You-”

“May!” Peter yells, upset. “He’s not a cold-blooded murderer. Am I a murderer?”

May scoffs and shakes her head. “That was different.”

“It’s not.” Peter says. “It isn’t different. You have to trust me on this. I trust Tony, and you trust me. Right?” May is still for a long time, but the guard reminds her she doesn’t have much longer, and she finally nods. “Then trust him.”

May purses her lips. “Why would you give me money?” she asks Tony.

“I don’t have any use for it, and I like your nephew.” Tony shrugs, looking at Peter. “I’ll gladly give it all to you, honestly. I’m not planning on leaving here, and it’s better with you than rotting in a useless bank account.”

May looks on the verge of tears. “How can you trust him?”

Peter smiles at Tony leaning into him a bit more before looking back at May. “It’s not my place to tell you. But I do.”

May stands, still holding the phone. “I’ll be back next month. I want a better explanation than this time. I love you Peter, I’ll see you soon.”

“I love you too, May.”

~

Peter jumps as Bucky slams his fist on the table, effectively cutting off Clint’s lecture. “I god damn know how to be quiet, asshole, I was a sniper before I was an assassin. Teach me the layout of the vents and which guards take bribes, skip the basics.”

Steve chuckles softly, rubbing soothing circles into Bucky’s thigh.

Clint huffs in annoyance. “I’m not doubting your experience, I was just saying...” he rolls his eyes and starts grumbling to himself.

Tony turns the page in his paper, taking a sip of his coffee. “Learn to take orders when given by higher ups Barnes, or this won’t work out.”

Peter notices Steve stiffen, even though Bucky merely scoffs. “Bird brains here isn’t a higher up, boss. He’s the guy I’m replacing.”

“Watch your mouth before I watch it for you,” Clint grunts, hands tightening into fists. He’s still pissed at how often Bucky’s arrival keeps the whole prison up.

“Cool it, Clint,” Steve warns, straightening up and squaring his shoulders.

“You’re gonna lengthen your sentence if you fight, Mr. Clint sir,” Peter pipes up, face pink from the anxiety.

The two assassins stare each other down for a minute more, before Clint scoffs and stands up, pushing his tray towards Peter. “Here kid, I’m not hungry anymore.”

Peter watches him storm off before turning his gaze to pout at Bucky. “You know, you don’t have to mean. We’re on the same team here.”

Bucky snorts, rolling his eyes and planting a hand on the table. “We aren’t shit, pipsqueak. You can’t-” he cuts off with a hiss as a knife suddenly finds its way in between his middle and ring fingers.

“If you can’t learn your fucking place, Barnes, your place will be six feet under. Do I make myself crystal clear?” Tony’s paper rests on the table beside him, his hand gripping the handle of the knife tightly.

“He was just joking around, Tones, it’s okay. He won’t say another words about Peter. Right baby?” Steve says, one hand on Bucky’s chest to keep him back and his tone sharp.

Bucky is silent for a few seconds as he stares Tony down, jaw set angrily. Eventually, he slowly removes his hand from the table and nods once. “Right.”

Tony sniffs in indifference, hiding the knife back up his sleeve and grabbing his coffee again. “You said he wouldn’t cause problems, Cap.”

“He won’t anymore,” Steve says, a sharp edge to his voice as he side-eyes Bucky. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“Good,” Tony says, opening his paper again. “Finding one replacement is hard enough, I’d hate to have to find two.”

“Understood, boss,” Steve says lowly, standing up. “Buck, a word,” he says with air of finality, walking away without waiting for his lover.

Bucky doesn't keep him waiting long, glaring daggers into Tony’s forehead before following silently.

Peter sniffles once, leaning into Tony. “I’m sorry I’m causing problems.”

Rhodey laughs softly, the first noise he’s made this entire time. “Oh kid, you aren’t causing problems. Robo-cop is.”

Tony nods in agreement, pushing Clint’s tray towards Peter. “He’s right. Eat.”

Peter sighs sadly but obeys, starting with Clint’s roll.

~

Peter beams at May through the glass, picking up the phone and waving. “Heya May! How have you been?”

May is frowning, looking at Peter with suspicion. “The day after our last visit, ten million dollars appeared in my bank account.”

Peter gasps, feeling light headed. “Oh my god, that’s more than we could ever-”

“Where the hell did he get this money from? How did he get it to if he can’t access the accounts in his name?”

Peter sighs, feeling slightly frustrated. “Pepper Potts is the CEO of SI right now, she took over a few years ago. Tony signed papers to give her access to his accounts, so she sends him money from the business because she feels like she owes him. It’s all his money, all legally obtained, and all legally given to you.”

May shakes her head in disbelief. “What did you do, Peter?! What did you do to convince him to give you this money?”

Peter smiles sadly. “You don’t want to know, May. I didn’t do anything against my morals, don’t worry.”

“You can’t sleep with a murderer, Peter,” May hisses into the phone, tears in her eyes.

“It isn’t like that,” Peter promises, sighing. “Honestly May, it isn’t. We don’t want to sleep together. I mean, we share a cell, but that’s--that’s innocent. You could be there and I wouldn’t be embarrassed, I swear.” May shakes her head, lips tightening into a grimace. “Then what did you do?”

“You don’t need to know, and you don’t want to know. I didn’t do anything bad, nothing illegal. He just likes me, May. You don’t have to worry about the money. Get us a nice house, get a new car, get other things you’ve been wanting. The money is good and you don’t need to feel bad about having it.”

May sighs in disbelief, but decides that Peter wouldn’t lie to her. “Fine. God, I can’t wait to get you out of there and give you a giant hug.”

Peter grins, leaning back into his chair. “Me too, May.”

~

Tony sighs, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. “Only six more months with you, Pete. I only have six more months. Do we really have to talk about this now?”

Peter pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m gonna visit you all the time Tony, don’t say it’s only six months.”

Tony grunts. “It’s basically six months. You’ll visit once a month for a while, and then you’ll forget all about me.”

Peter makes a wounded noise, wrapping his arms around Tony’s torso and hugging him tightly. “Don’t say that. I love you, I’m not just going to forget you.”

Tony rolls his eyes, but hugs Peter back. “You will. What use do you have for an old, lonely, felon locked away fro the rest of his life?”

Peter hugs harder, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter what use you are, first of all. Love doesn’t mean need.”

“You have your aunt May.”

“That doesn’t mean if I have her I suddenly don’t have you.” He pulls back, looking up at Tony with teary eyes. “I won’t ever forget about you. Not ever. You’re stuck with me until the end of time, okay?”

Tony grins down at Peter fondly, ruffling his hair. “Okay.” He agrees eventually.

Peter gives him a small smile in return and kisses Tony’s cheek, pulling away finally and wiping his eyes. “So...what do you think then?”

Tony sighs. “I don’t want you to appeal, if I’m being honest. Even if you plan on visiting me forever, I still don’t want you to go. I know it’s selfish, but that’s what I think.”

Peter node sadly and kisses Tony’s chin before going back to their bed. “Then I’ll tell May to be patient. End of discussion.”

“no, wait....” Tony sighs and follows the boy. “You asked what I thought about it, not what you should do. You should get out of here, go live your life. Go to college and get a house and so on.”

“I can wait,” Peter says. Then he shuts his eyes and pretends to be asleep.

Tony only sighs loudly and crawls into bed as well, kissing Peter’s hair before he settles down. “Little shit,” he accuses, which makes the ‘sleeping’ boy grin cheekily.

~

Peter hums as he looks at the houses in front of him, going back and forth between the images. “Hmmm...I like the one on the right, it’s beautiful.”

May nods, turning the picture to look at it herself. “I agree...but Peter, do we really need a house this big? It’s just the two of us, and when you move out it’ll be just me...”

Peter grins, a grin May knows very well means Peter is planning something May wouldn’t approve of. “It’s the perfect size, May. And this one is for me, I want you to have your own house.”

“Peter!” May gasps, eyes wide. “What do you mean this is just for you? Why on earth would you need a house this big by yourself?”

“And I think you should hire a maid and a chef in your house too, you know, you always do everything. You deserve to be taken care of for once.”

May shakes her head, leaning back in her chair. “How much money are you planning to give me here, kid? These types of things are expensive, and-”

“As much as you need, May. Tony is a billionaire, and he got together with Pepper last week in order to make me his official heir. All of his money is mine when I get out of here, and he’s a billionaire. We wouldn’t be able to spend all his money in a hundred lifetimes.”

“Peter...” May has tears in her eyes. “Why would he-”

“He loves me. And you love me. He wants both of us to be happy.”

May sniffles, dabbing at her eyes. “Well then...I better start researching how to be rich, I guess.”

Peter smiles, a genuine smile, one that reaches his eyes. “Tony says all his mother ever did was host charity galas and manage their public image. We don’t have a public image, so I guess you better start learning how to throw charity galas.”

May smiles sadly at him, nodding. “My first one is going to be a fundraiser for the public defenders’ office. That way no other innocent little kids get thrown in jail unjustly.”

Peter beams at her, tapping his knuckles against the counter. “Sounds great, May.”

~

Peter wakes up giggling, scrunching his nose as he feels the kisses against his eyelids. “Tones?”

Tony chuckles deeply, pulling back and letting the boy sit up. “Morning sleepy-head. How did you sleep?”

Peter yawns and stretches, looking around the cell. ‘Good. What’s going on, the lights are still out?”

Tony smiles, shifting on the bed and pulling a small box out from behind his back. “Happy birthday, kid. It’s midnight.”

Peter gasps, taking the box. “What? How did you-where did you- wait, how did you know it was my birthday?”

Tony smirks, leaning back on an elbow. “I know everything. Open it.”

Peter laughs softly at the bossy nature, opening it quickly. He gasps when he sees it, taking it out of the box and looking between the gift and Tony in surprise. “I...what...I...”

“You’re almost out of here, kid, and it got me thinking...I don’t want to only see you once a month. I...I can’t see you only once a month. So I talked to Pepper, had her design team create something for me. So this is a prototype.”

Peter feels tears in his eyes, looking up at Tony’s face. “So this...this will...what does it do?”

“Once it’s working correctly, yes. You put it on the floor, turn it on, and wait. Once it’s on, it’ll start to vibrate the other one, so we’ll know the other wants to talk. Then once they’re both on, we’ll see each other very clearly.” Tony smiles and takes Peter’s hand. “It isn’t perfect or anything, but hopefully it’ll let me see you more than once a month. Maybe even once a day.”

Peter hurls himself into Tony’s lap, hugging him tightly and crying into his shoulder. Tony wraps his arms around Peter, hiding his face in Peter’s hair. “Oh, Tony! Thank you, thank you!”

Tony smiles into Peter’s hair sadly, kissing where he can. “Of course, kiddo. Anything for you.”

~

Rhodey sighs, slamming his cards on the table. “I liked Clint way better than you, soldier, he sucked at poker.”

Bucky grins, pulling his winnings closer to him. “My secret is I always look like I want to murder you. You can’t tell what’s in my hand anymore than you could against a computer.”

Steve chuckles, grabbing the cards and starting to shuffle them. “Clint had no poker face, I don’t know how he works with Nat without annoying her to death.”

Peter giggles at the image of Natasha and Clint on a mission, with Natasha being stone faced and cool while Clint is annoying her with faces of concentration and effort.

“Stop talking about me like I’m gone,” Clint sighs in annoyance. “I still have a minimum of nine months in here.”

“Did you hear that? I swear, I just heard Barton’s voice,” Steve chimes in, starting to deal for the next round.

Peter giggles again, leaning into Tony and grabbing his cards. “You think you’ll make it to the graduation?”

“Oh yeah,” Clint says, smiling as he rearranges his cards. He ignores as Rhodey groans loudly and folds his cards before they start even playing because of his obvious smugness. “I bribed the warden to give me a recommendation for parole, I’m not spending another two years in here.”

Peter turns to look at Tony, eyes sparkling. The older man doesn’t know what the look is for, and at this point, he knows better than to ask.

~

Peter sits down happily and starts to bounce his leg, grinning at his stablemates. “Morning!”

“Ah,” Clint grunts, rubbing his head. “Shhh, it’s too early.”

Steve laughs softly. “You’re just pissed several inmates got lucky last night.”

“I’m pissed because everyone decided sleep isn’t important anymore.”

Tony takes that moment to sit next to Peter, putting one tray of food in front of himself and one in front of Peter. “Well stop being pissed, today is not your day to be pissed.”

Clint makes a confused sound, before he suddenly straightens up and smiles at Peter. “Hey, today is the day you’re free! Shit, I can’t believe it’s been a whole year since you got here.”

Tony grunts, aggressively opening his paper.

Peter ignores him, nodding at Clint. “They’re taking me out front at noon, May is picking me up. I get to go home!”

Rhodey pats Peter on the shoulder in a friendly manner. “Congrats man, make sure you come back to visit us.”

“Every month,” Peter promises, surprising the group. They thought Peter would want to forget about his time in prison as soon as possible. “C’mon, I wanna play one more game of go-fish before I have to go.”

“I’m really gonna miss you, kid,” Steve says, a sad smile on his face. “I don’t think anyone else in the world could have convinced a bunch of murderers to play go-fish over poker.”

Bucky hums, pulling out his cards. “You made me like you in less than six months, that’s a record for me for sure.”

Rhodey nods, taking the cards and starting to deal. “Yeah kid, we’ll all miss you.”

Peter blushes a bit but he can’t stop smiling. He’s finally going to get to hug Aunt May again!

~~~

Peter runs to the phone as soon as they let him, picking it up with a big smile. “Tony!”

Tony chuckles, the same sad glint in his eyes he always has. It’s been a year since Peter was released, and a lot has happened since then. Clint was released and he’s back at it with Natasha and his family. Rhodey gave pepper a design that was so successful she's only allowed to sell it to the United States military. Steve and Bucky have gotten along perfectly, making the prison business they have going even more successful. Peter has started college, Ivy League, majoring in robotics engineering.

According to Tony, not much has happened with him. But, according to Peter, this year has been very eventful for Tony.

Without telling Tony, Peter has been working very hard to get Tony out. He wasn’t able to completely free Tony, of course, but with the money he got from Tony has come in very handy. He blew through an entire half a billion dollars, but he eventually got something close to what he wanted.

“Peter? You okay there?”

Peter nods quickly, literally bouncing in excitement. “I have the best news ever, Tony.”

The older man grins, but he still has that sad look in his eyes. “I told you kid, getting an A is not the best news ever. It’s expected from someone as smart as you are.”

Peter giggles but shakes his head. “No, it isn’t that. Tony, I got you out.”

Tony literally drops the phone, and has to scramble to grab it again. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Peter beams and shows Tony some paperwork. “All you have to do is sign, and you’ll be out of here. You’ll be under house arrest, with a very nice man checking in on us once every day and once every night. You’ll have an ankle tracker on, and you won’t be allowed to leave the house. But you’ll be living with me, and you’ll be out of prison, and you'll see me every day! And not just that wonderful hologram you invented; I can hug you and hold your hand and...and...” Peter’s smile falters and he his voice trails off. “Tony?”

Tony is staring at Peter with a blank expression, holding the phone so tightly his knuckles are white.

Peter stutters a little, feeling like his heart dropped into his stomach. “I-I mean, you don’t have to sign it. You don’t-you don’t have to come live with me. I mean, I just--I thought you would like to...I thought, I mean you said you missed me and you didn’t want to not see me, so I just thought you...” Peter feels tears start to form in his eyes. “Never-never mind, I thought you--no, I mean, obviously you want to stay in there. You said that, I should have--I overst- I-I should go, actually, I have to visit, um, Rhodey, because he um, he-”

“Peter Benjamin Parker.” Tony interrupts, and it startles Peter into silence. “You spent the entire last year planning on how to get me out of my prison behind my back?”

Peter’s lower lip trembles, and he nods once. “I’m sorry, I thought you might be happy.”

Tony lets out a shaky breath, and Peter is surprised to see tears in his eyes for only the second time in Tony’s adult life. “Nobody in my entire life has ever cared so much about me that they-” his voice breaks, and he starts to shake his head. He slams the phone onto the receiver and goes away from where Peter can see.

Peter feels the tears start to fall down his cheek and he gently hangs up his own phone. He sniffles sadly, grabbing the papers and standing up. He’s about to throw them in the trash when a door suddenly bursts open, startling the boy.

Tony is suddenly there, eyes wet and arms open wide. Peter doesn’t really understand what’s happening until Tony’s arms are around him. “Take me home.”

Peter’s eyes widen into the hug, whimpering softly. “You...you do want to come live with me?”

Tony nods, pulling back and looking at Peter with so much emotion and awe that Peter is overwhelmed. “Peter...” Tony takes a step back, obviously trying to gather himself. “When I first got into prison, I thought I wasn’t ever going to get out. And honestly, I wanted that. I wanted to grow old here, die here, die knowing that I took out as many child rapists as I could. Knowing I made the world a better place, one scum removal at a time.

“But you...you came into my life and I...I just...Something changed in me. I wasn’t burning all the time, I wasn’t dying anymore. I wasn’t staying alive so that I could do my duty; no, when you moved into my cell, I realized I was staying alive so I could see you every day. So I could protect you, and spend time with you and talk to you. And once you were freed, it just made it even more obvious to me that...that I don’t want my old life anymore. The only thing I want is to stay with you, and have you in my life.”

Peter feels so overwhelmed with the confession, he simply hugs Tony and tightly as he can and refuses to let go. “Tony...Come on. Let’s go. Let’s go home.”

#Gracie's New Years Resolution #tony stark #peter parker #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #clint barton #prison au

[nolantalks]

THOUGHTS ON TUMBLR TRAINING AI BOTS WITH OUR POSTS?

As someone who uses AI art to create character images to fit a scifi, fantasy, cyberpunk, or fandom setting I really don't care and will enjoy my more accurate prompts and results when doing so.

YOU SEE SOME BLOGS ARE FINALLY DISCUSSING HOW TOXIC THE RPC IS WITH CALLOUTS AND HARASSING PEOPLE?

Yesssssss, about fucking time to. I’ve only been submitting anons to various blogs about it since 2019 for it to finally bear fruit in 2024. I do see some of the blogs doing it are also being called out by people fully taking what they say out of context and focusing on one part of their posts. As well as lying about them out right. As the king of people making up stories of him, harassing, doxxing, and trying to call out, I salute all you blogs trying to fight the good fight against the toxic blogs that made the rpc here enter its death bed and everyone going semi private. Special shout out to @barbierpt despite you being a disgusting cow, it’s nice to see you standing up for the abused like myself. And it makes me smile knowing people who obsess over me will talk about you being shoutout’ed on this blog.

WHAT ABOUT KREEPY KAT LADY?

Never met the chick. Never interacted with her outside of sending an anon a couple of years back about how I used to be a follower of hers til she reblogged one of Raven's posts of lies and contributed to the harassment that led to me trying to off myself. She wanted to talk but when I messaged her from a character account she never replied.

Other than that all I know is she makes grain-as-hell gifs, and I came up with the Kreepy Kat Lady nickname because of how creepy her obsession with that actress is especially given her age but I guess its only creepy if the older person is male. But yeah, never spoke to her, never interacted with her, and I was never in any groups that involved her. I know she made up a story casting me as the pedo she and her friends forced onto a girl who they didn't like in a group something like 12 years ago I know that post is still in the tags I should probably dig back over 12 years of tags on a day off to reblog it just to be all 'this you'.

I also know she deleted it after a quick Google check showed she lied about dates of platforms that weren't even out yet. and other flat-out imaginary statements were proven fails. After all, better to delete than have evidence up that proves people make up fan fiction about me.

[ronweasleysslut]

Poker ♣️- Hurt/Angst fics. Let me take your fav character and hurt you.

James Potter

idk if i'm supposed to mention anything else

I’m so mad because i started this and had so much written and Tumblr deleted it :(

*Mentions of sex*

You burst into the Gryffindor common room with the most exciting news about you in a while. You had talked to Snape about a future in potions and he told you about a program that was perfect for you and he would give you a letter of recommendation too. You talked even talked him into thinking about giving James a letter as well.

Sirius and Remus were sitting on a couch in the common room. Remus was reading as per usual and Sirius looked tired as he laid against the arm of the couch. “GUYS!” You shouted in excitement.

“Merlin, fuck why are you yelling?” Sirius put his fingers at his temples with slight pressure signaling that he was hungover.

“That’s why you don’t drink so much. Anyway where is James I have amazing news!”

Without looking up from his book Remus started, “He told me he has detention with McGonagall all day today.”

“That’s funny cause Prongs told me he was studying in the library all day.” His voice was low and quiet.

“Huh. He told me that you three were practicing on the pitch all day.” Dread rushed into your stomach as all of your stories of the boy’s whereabouts were all different.

“We haven’t stepped foot on the pitch in a week.” Sirius said grumpily.

“We were supposed to go today then he had detention.” Remus added.

“Well i’m going to head for the library and try to bump into McGonagall on the way. Let me know if you hear from him.”

“Will do.” Remus said as you turned for the door of the common room. Then James door opened and you were called back.

“I found him.” Sirius said.

“What- Where?” You turned around in perfect time to see James follow Lily Evans out of his room. His hair a mess and clothes wrinkled.

They both came to the bottom of the stairs before James realized you were standing with the boys. “James. I need to talk to you. Alone.” You gave a death glare to Lily as James stuttered an okay.

You followed him back to his room and the door shut with a small slam. The shock was over and the anger started to set in. “So where have you been all day?” Your tone was passive aggressive as you waited for his response.

“I already told you I was with the-“

“Guys on the pitch. Yeah I know where you said you’d be but the funny thing about that is no one’s story matches yours. In fact you ditched those plans so why are you lying to me and your best friends?”

He was quiet for a moment. “I was studying with Lily.”

“Studying? If you were studying why would you lie?” That’s when you looked around the room and caught a glimpse of a shiny wrapper on the ground. You stood up and walked over to it and picking it up. “Must’ve been a really great study session huh?” You held up the wrapper.

“Y/n it’s not what it looks like-“

“Like hell it’s not James.” You were more disappointed than angry at this point. “So much for “I’ll never hurt you as long as we live.” You shrugged and grabbed your purse from the ground.

“Please just let me explain-“

“Why so I can get myself hurt again in the future? We don’t use condoms James. There is no excuse for this to be in here.” He was quiet and that’s when the realization hit that he had just lost you.

#777 celebration #casino night #saige’s 777 celebration #ronweasleysslut celebration #saige hosts casino night ♠️ #james potter #james potter x reader #saige answers 💌 #saige dialogues #saige requests 📩 #saige sfw ���

[hope-you-brought-kneepads-bitch]

I wrote something because I can um so yeah :)

(this bitch deleted 3 times before I posted it, what the fuck Tumblr?)

"come on metal man let me go on the mission too! I can't die so like it's great" Heather was trying to convince the avengers to let her on a mission but they weren't convinced

"Veronica tell them how good I'd be on the mission" she looked over to her girlfriend sat on the couch reading a book and without looking up she answered Heather "honestly babe I think you'd make things worse"

"Ouch" Heather mocked fake hurt and turned to Nat "come on widow, you know I'd be great on this mission you, me and wanda going taking out bad guys looking hot doing it? Sounds great"

Nat looked over at Wanda and then back at Heather sighing "alright demon you can come-"

"Hell yeah! Lets go and save some human meat sacks!"

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

The trio had infiltrated the building and discovered 4 hostages in a room with 3 armed men

"okay Wanda you take-"

Heather didn't listen and instead entered the room "hello bad guys!" She announced and the three men all pointed their guns at her "ooooh nice guns guys, what are you planning on doing with them?" she teased laughing but stopped when one of the men shot her the bullet piercing through her body "dude! That was my new suit!" she rolled her eyes and approached the three guys smiling as they moved out of the way of her as she put her hand on one of the hostages shoulders making him jump "shh man its okay, I'm here to help don't worry" she pulled out a knife and sliced the man's cheek licking up the blood that fell from his face

"What the fuck are you?" one of the men asked, all three of them backing out slowly "what? You don't like blood?" she put the knife to the man's throat smirking at the criminals

"You're a crazy bitch" one of them shouted but this didn't faze Heather, instead she laughed and her eyes went red "I'm not crazy, I'm a demon" she slit the guy's throat killing him instantly forcing the three to run out and into wanda and nat who quickly ran into the room aiming at Heather as she licked the blood from the knife "Heather what the fuck happened?"

"I apprehended the targets and now they can go to jail you're welcome" she smiled at Nat but the red head didn't waiver "you can't kill hostages!"

Heather rolled her eyes "I only killed one of them, we still have 3 left"

Wanda spoke up "that isn't the point, we don't kill people that we don't have too"

"ugh boring what's the point of extortion and murdering if you don't get to do what you desire, like drinking blood? Now, I'll race you back to the compound!" she disappeared without another word leaving the two women shocked.

"well she did help us" wanda said but Nat just rolled her eyes "tony's going to kill me"

@withinomega I wrote a short thing that I said I might do 👀😂

#heathers #heather chandler #chansaw #veronica sawyer #heathers movie #demon!heather chandler #marvel #mcu fanfiction #wanda maximov #wanda maximoff #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff

[mcmoth]

So... I just found the song Theseus by The oh hellos, which... really surprised I hadn't found it sooner, being both a dsmp and the oh hellos fan, but oh well. Anyways, I just wanted to ramble about how this song fits c!Tommy, cause my god... the animatic I could make with this,,,

Oh, and this was originally a YouTube comment, btw, so it's maybe less expansive or personal than my usual rambles here would be. I just thought to actually rather post this on tumblr and delete the comment as to not add to the pile of dsmp comments cluttering the original song's feedback ^^ here y'all go:

At the edges of my fingers

Never quite closing round it

Oh, that peace like a river

Always going, but never getting

- How c!Tommy is constantly on the move, always preparing the next plan, always striving for some closure, how his two main priorities right now are safety and honesty - peace - and he tries so hard to get it, always, but in the end, never seems to succeed.

Seems like maybe it's not all that much a place

As it is a way

And ways don't ever seem to want to

Stay too still for too long

- Reminds me heavy of L'manburg. At the start of it, Wilbur did say that L'manburg wasn't a place, it was it's people, it's ideals. Words over violence, fighting back against oppressive authority, and seeking a family. And that's still what c!Tommy holds close to this day. But... as we all know. L'manburg, as it stood, didn't last long in these idealistic hopes.

Isn't that what it's all about?

The slow trickling thaw that sets the banks in half

The sweet melody it makes when the canyons crack

I wanna give it all I've got, and I want nothing

I want nothing back

-The "I wanna give it all i've got, and I want nothing, I want nothing back" makes me envision the season 1 finale, when Tommy tried so hard to fight for L'manburg, against all odds. And as Techno shouted at him to give up on being a hero, he just yelled back that he never wanted to be one, didn't want to be anything, rather "just wanted L'manburg back". For all of them.

Also, the first 3 lines give off cool imagery - the division between the dsmp and L'manburg, the war, the split sides after the election for the "trickling thaw that sets the banks in half", and Wilbur's words and symphony, once hopeful, turned miserable, as it echoes against Pogtopia's walls for "melody it makes when the canyons crack".

Whatever kingdom come, it probably won't come quick

No mighty clarion to announce it

No single use ark to discard in an instant

Like Theseus's ship, we'll fix the busted bits

- makes me think of new L'manburg, of everyone trying to rebuild after the destruction - constructing on top of the remains. Integrating the losses into their future. The creation comes slow, and without fanfare - the healthy bit of it, at least. But that's what's important about it - being able to take something slow for once, and just... working towards something again.

'Til it's both nothing like and everything

It's always been

It's a wonder we expect a thing to

Stay the same at all

- Theseus' ship is a metaphor for how, if you take something apart, one by one, gradually changing it's parts 'till it's all replaced, is the ship still the same ship? Or is it something entirely different now? And I feel like that's an interesting way to view c!Tommy - so much has happened to him, all lives lost. He's lost his spark, he's regained it again, different now. He's lost his friends, he's regained them again, different now. He's lost his brother, he regained him again, different now. So many labels have been assigned to him - hero, liability, toy... is he even Tommy anymore, misaligned pieces of what used to be a full puzzle? Or... is it that, after everything, it's still just him...

Maybe that's what it's all about

We keep fixing what we know is only bound to break

What's worth saving is never worth letting go to waste

I want to mend what I've got, instead of throwing away

- This is so relevant for c!Tommy. Whatever is important to him, he refuses to throw away. The discs, his relationship with Tubbo, trying to reconcile with Techno, not giving up on Wilbur... His whole speech to Foolish, that one stream, highlights this well. If he loves someone, he will never let go. It's worth trying to mend, in his eyes, even if there's no guarantee it won't just break again. Just like his home, rebuilt dozens and dozens of times after all the griefs and opportunities to leave it. He always returns to what is close to him.

Ain't nothing come easy

No, nothing comes quick

It's gonna hurt like hell to become well

But if we set the bone straight

It'll mend It'll fix

And we'll be well

- c!Tommy's whole story has been painful. He gets beat down, more often than not. He goes to get closure in prison, and he returns undead. His bones shattered, feeling reality altered. But he still tries. Still tries to figure out what to do next, what to save next, even as he's tired to the bone. And there's something to say, about that - about how he tried, despite the pain. His healing process is such a mess, but it's a healing process all the same.

Ain't nothing come easy

No, nothing comes quick

But I want for you this, that you are well

I want for us this, that we are well

- That's what c!Tommy wants, in the end. For everyone to be safe from torment, and to have fun. For everyone to be well. It isn't easy, and he's not perfect, and his edges are sharp enough to cut, but he wishes nonetheless. He tends to the server, he asks c!Dream why he doesn't hurt after leaving everything, he preserves Ranboo's flowers; he just wants everything to be okay.

We are well, we are well

We are well, we are well

We are well

- And they will be, I hope. Because if there's one thing that c!Tommy's story has shown, after all the fighting, abuse, arguments, death and grief - it's that he's still alive, and hanging onto hope... And though things are bleak, I'm hoping one day, the whole server, not just c!Tommy, will be able to say "we are well", too.

So... Yeah. Check out the oh hellos if y'all haven't already, their music is wonderful <3

#dream smp #tommyinnit #the oh hellos #theseus the oh hellos #meta #character analysis #song analysis #ramble #music #song #my own post #i have no idea ehat's even happening at any current time #i just continue to imagine this silly little fictional character and all his past events andcry about him #l'manburg

[psychovigilantewrites]

Don’t Call Me That Pt. 2

Wordcount: 10,129

A/N:  I thought this part 2 would total up to 10k words, but when it hit 10k, I realised that I was only about 65 percent done. So based on the responses I got from tumblr, I decided to publish this first and then conclude the story later on!

TW:  mentions of r*pe, mentions of torture, mentions of drugging someone (??) , mental breakdowns, vulnerability, descriptions of anxiety

Also, HERE’S MY FAV MEMES!! I’m so sorry that I can’t tag respective meme creators, because I saved them on my phone and some of them I forgot to include your usernames!! I’M SO SORRY!!! And honest to god is wear there were more but i must have lost them im so sorry im so incompetent lmao

memeesss

You glanced at your phone.

It had already been a week in Hawaii with your friends, and Jason still hadn’t texted you.

Well, you should have expected it, really. Jason was a traumatised, mentally ill man who had been locked away for two years.

Of course he wouldn’t text you first.

You had contemplated texting him over the past few days, typing in an array of messages ranging from a simple “hey” to a whole paragraph, and deleting all of it without hitting send. Did he even switch the phone on? Was he surfing the internet? Or was the phone still there on the shelf where you had left it.

It was driving you crazy.

“Do you have a boyfriend we don’t know about?” a voice called.

You looked up and squinted at the man who was standing up, looking down at you. You were sitting on the beach, a little further away from the ocean where your friends were.

“What are you talking about?” you asked as Alex plopped down next to you.

“You’ve been fidgety the whole time,” he pointed out, combing back his dark shoulder length hair with his fingers, getting sand in them. “We’re on a private beach, and you’ve been fussing over your phone. Who are you talking to?”

“No one,” you grumbled truthfully.

“The girls have been gossiping,” he gestured to the two other girls playing in the water. Your closest friends. It was four of you in that inseparable group.

“Of course they have,” you groaned, “Tell them to SAY IT TO MY FACE, COWARDS!”

You shouted at them, earning you grins and middle fingers from the distance.

“They’re saying you’re in love with someone,” he chuckled, “But they always say stupid shit like that without any evidence. But sometimes, a girl’s intuition is just right, ya know?”

“Stop beating around the bush, Alex,” you rolled your eyes at him despite knowing he couldn’t see past your sunglasses. “No, I’m not in love. I’m just waiting for a text that might never come.”

“Why don’t you text him first?”

“Because it’s not as simple as that!” you flailed your arms, “He’s… complicated. I can’t just text him anything.”

“Girl, unless he’s Mr. Nottingham, or related to you, then it really isn’t that complicated,” he joked.

“Ugh,” you groaned again, falling back onto the cloth you spread out. “Fine. I’ll text him.”

“Atta girl,” Alex grinned, “I’m gonna head back in the water. Join us after. Please?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved.

Opening the text window for what had to be the thirtieth time, you finally decided to text him.

You: Miss me yet?

Staring intently at the small ‘sent’ below your message bubble, you waited for it to turn to ‘delivered’.

“Yes!” you hissed. It meant that Jason had indeed switched on the phone.

But after twenty minutes you realised that it didn’t matter if Jason switched on the phone if he didn’t want to talk to you. Cursing to yourself, you decided to join your friends in the water, hoping it’ll distract you from checking your phone every five minutes for a text message that might never come.

After an hour of actually spending time with your friends, all four of you returned to the villa, your mood elevated. Checking your phone, you could have jumped for joy when you saw not one, but four consecutive texts in a row.

Jason: Duck off. Jason: What the duck Jason: WHY CANT I SAY DUCK Jason: I DUCKING HATE THIS

You couldn’t let out a string of giggles.

“Oooh, lover boy texted you back, huh?” Alex peeked over your shoulder. “Gimme, I wanna mess with him.”

He snatched your phone from your hands, surprisingly swift and smooth for a civilian, raising it way above his head so you couldn’t reach it and opened the camera.

“Alex-!”

He threw his other arm over your shoulder and pulled you into his bare chest, crushing you before you could tackle him down. He snapped a picture and sent it.

You froze in horror.

“Why the hell did you do that?!” you yelled.

“Relax, I was just messing around,” he gave your phone back to you.

“You don’t- you don’t understand, you fucking asshole!” you screamed.

“I- I’m sorry,” Alex stuttered, surprised by your reaction. “I was just-”

“Fuck off!” you snapped.

Panicking, you saw the little notification below the picture turning from Received to Read.

No. No, no, no, no.

This was bad.

You didn’t want to overwhelm Jason by sending him photos of your activities, thinking that he might react badly to the sudden surplus of familiarity and sense of being close to someone. Now you were worried that he might start to push you away in fear, reverting back to how he was before, and months of progress would have been all for nothing.

He would probably start swearing at you, or worse- switch off the phone and reject any form of communication completely. You hurriedly texted a reply.

You: I’m so sorry! I didn’t send that, my friend was just messing around.

Expecting the worst, you braced yourself for the inevitable. Instead, he sent you:

Jason: Who the hell is that guy?? Jason: Why are you in your underwear??

Your mouth hung open as you stared in shock at the screen. Because you took so long to recover from the shock, he sent you another message.

Jason: ???

Snapping out of it, you texted back.

You: That’s just my friend. Sorry about that! And I’m not in my underwear, it’s a bikini! I’m in Hawaii.

You waited for him to reply, but ten minutes of you sitting anxiously on the turquoise sofa in the middle of the villa listening to the waves of the beach outside from the open doors passed by, and he still hadn’t.

Perhaps he’s busy- wait. There’s no way Jason would be busy. You tried to coax him into a conversation.

You: You can turn off your autocorrect if you want to swear without hassle. Go to your Keyboard settings.

You plopped your phone on the empty seat next to you and dried your hair.

“Ugh, come on!” complained Natalie, fully clothed and washed, walking towards the open concept kitchen from her room. “You’re getting sand everywhere!”

“Woops, my bad,” you grinned.

“There’s a shower outside on the porch for a reason you know,” she flipped her blond beach waves at you, looking through the fridge.

Alex stood quietly at the kitchen island, now scared to say anything.

You rolled your eyes. “Just don’t do it again.”

“Okay, I promise!” he grinned.

Ding.

Jason: fuck. fuck. fucking fuck. Jason: found it. You: Proud of you, man.

You went to your room and showered, then dried off and put on fresh clothes while waiting for Jason to reply.

Of course, he never did.

Groaning, you had to remind yourself that he was not used to human interaction, and texting would come unnaturally to him. Which meant that you had to be the one to keep the conversation going.

You: Do anything interesting since I left?

You saw him typing almost immediately this time.

Jason: no.

Of course not.

You: Have you been eating properly? Jason: yeah.

God, it was so difficult. You were in the middle of typing something when he replied again.

Jason: yoire not my mom Jason: yoire Jason: YOIRE Jason: FUCK WHY CANR I TYPE

You felt guilty for laughing, but you did anyway.

You: Now that you switched off autocorrect, it won’t correct your typos and misspells anymore. Jason: i fucking knw that. Ive been gone for two yeard not twenty. You: Then why do you sound like a grandpa? Jason: BECAISE YOU GAVE ME A FUCKINF IPHONE!! I USED AN ANDROID!!

Now you were really laughing out loud, so you sent him a GIF of a woman rolling her eyes.

Jason: wtf you can send gifs throug text now?? You: Welcome to 2020, my dude. Jason: im not your fucking dude

Typing a reply, Jason interrupted you once again.

Jason: teach me how to do that

Smiling widely, you found that you couldn’t wait for the next week to pass by so you could go back and see him.

***

“How’s Jason?” you asked the minute you reached the Cave computers, panting from the run down.

“Wow, hello to you, too,” Dick chuckled, spinning towards you on the wheeled chair.

It was a Sunday afternoon, and Bruce and Dick were in front of the computers, discussing a case that had connections to Bludhaven Police Department.

Gone for two weeks, you had a lot to catch up on.

“According to Alfred, he’s doing well,” Bruce answered, “Even started to ask for seconds last week. Now Alfred has been making portions for two.”

“He asked? For seconds?” you gasped. “How?”

“He left a note on the tray two days after you left. He’s been making meal requests, too. Texts Alfred in the morning to let him know.”

“Texted?!”

“Alfred slipped his number on the tray in case Jason wanted anything specific.”

“I slipped mine as well, but he hasn’t texted me yet,” Dick pouted.

“When did he start texting?” you ignored Dick.

“Last Sunday.”

So the same day you started texting him, then.

“He hasn’t texted me,” Dick sighed, looking dejected like a kid who was told Disneyland blew up.

“He’ll come around, Dick,” you offered him a smile, “I mean- he’s already texting Alfred!”

“Yeah,” he lamented.

“Okaaay, nice talk. I’m gonna go see him now, bye.”

You ran to the box, but stopped right before you opened the internal door. After checking your hair with your phone camera, you tried to stifle the butterflies in your stomach.

Ugh, you were so fucked.

Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door.

“Yeah,” Jason’s muffled grunt answered you.

Pushing it open, your eyes immediately went to the bed only to find that he wasn’t lounging around reading a book like you expected. Instead, your mouth dropped open when you saw him on the floor, doing push ups.

Shirtless.

Jason had changed drastically during the two weeks you were gone. You noticed that he had definitely gained weight, as well as muscle mass.

“Uh, wh-what are you..?”

He stood up, and you swore your heart skipped a beat.

His muscles were much more prominent and defined now, and he looked like he was going to achieve Dick’s physique if he kept it up for another month or two.

“Welcome back,” he simply said before taking gulps from a water bottle you definitely had not seen before.

“Thanks,” you walked over and sat on his bed, “I’m glad to see that you decided to start taking care of yourself again.”

“What, this? This isn’t for me.”

“Huh?” you cocked your head in curiosity.

“I… I lost a lot of muscle mass. My body- it isn’t how it used to be,” he frowned, “And I can’t have you lusting over it when it’s not at its peak.”

“What- what do you-?” you stammered, suddenly getting hot.

Jason merely smirked and then continued his push ups.

You watched as his developing muscles rippled, a thin layer of sweat making his skin glisten in the light. It was amazing how he had progressed so much in such a short period of time. You guessed that he must have just been occupying his days by working out.

No wonder he’s been asking for seconds.

“Enjoying the view?” Jason breathed, pausing with his arms straightened, his head angled upwards towards you.

“No, shut up,” you looked away.

“Here, be useful,” he started, “Sit on my back.”

“What?”

“I’ve gotten used to my own body weight, I need extra resistance,” he elaborated, “Come on, sit on my back.”

“But it’s all sweaty,” you whined, pretending to protest. Definitely pretending- for the sake of your own dignity.

You got up and went over towards him anyway.

Carefully, awkwardly, you sat on his back as you would a park bench. You rested your palms flat against his sticky skin to stabilise yourself. Suddenly, he dipped down without warning, earning a soft squeal from you.

“Fuck, you’re heavy,” he strained, but continued to do the push ups. He was shakier, struggling with the weight, and after twenty-five, he paused. “Okay, I think I’m done.”

But before you had the chance to get off him, he suddenly stood up, throwing you off his back to have you fall on the floor on your ass.

“Jason, you assho-” you clapped your hand over your mouth, realising what you had just said.

Oh, no. Oh, fuck.

He stood towering over you, his jaw clenching as he stared you down with his cold, blue eyes.

“I’m so sorry! I forgot! It was a reflex and-”

“Whatever. I don’t care anymore,” he rolled his eyes, reaching for his bottle.

You blinked. Then scrambled to your feet.

“You don’t care anymore?” you repeated slowly.

“I don’t care if you call me that,” he huffed.

That made your heart swell and melt at the same time.

“I got used to your voice,” he mumbled, expression changing as he looked away. He frowned, as if he was angrily staring at a distant object.

You had just guessed that he didn’t like to be called his name because of a sense of familiarity, but now you were thinking that there was much more to that than what you had originally thought.

“So, I can call you… Jason?” you tested.

“Yeah, call me whatever you want,” he sat on his bed, looking up at you.

You smiled, thankful that you had finally crossed that bridge. “You know, I could get some workout stuff for you? Weights, bands, that bar thing that you can put at your door frame for pull ups…”

“You’d like to see that, huh?” he smirked.

“You flatter yourself too much,” you scoffed.

“How was Hawaii?” he changed the subject all of a sudden.

“It was fun. Beach was great, locals were great, loved the vibe- what are you doing?”

Jason had stood back up and started to walk closer and closer to you, getting all up in your space like a predator finally cornering its prey. You kept on taking steps back until your ass hit the edge of the desk.

Nowhere else to run, your heart started hammering. He leaned in, his hands resting on the desk on either side of your body, trapping you against the table and himself. You looked up and gulped. You could almost feel the heat radiating from his bare skin.

“Are you afraid of me?” he muttered lowly.

“Why would I be afraid of you?” you whispered.

“You tell me,” he said.

“Well, I’m not afraid of you,” you stated.

“Oh really?” he raised an eyebrow. Then, you felt his hand grip your wrist tightly, pressing down on your skin with his fingers. “Your pulse is very fast for someone who’s not afraid of me.”

“It’s because you’re all up in my space!” you argued.

“Didn’t look like you mind when your friend,” he snarled the word, “was all up in your space.”

“My friend? What- oh,” you widen your eyes in realisation, “You mean Alex.”

“Is that his name?”

“Alex is just a friend, nothing more. He’s just someone I’m close to,” you reassured him.

Which then made you think about why you were reassuring him.

“Oh, you were definitely close to him,” Jason growled.

“Wait- are you… jealous?” a smile creeped your lips.

He scowled at you for a few moments, and you could see the little tics in his expression that said he was annoyed. The flared nostrils, the muscles of his jaw clenching and unclenching, the very slight twitches at the corner of his left eye.

“No,” he finally said, taking a step back from you. “I’m going to shower. Since you couldn’t stop staring at me, the invitation is still open for you to join.”

“You know, I’m starting to think that maybe I prefer it when you were broody instead of this. Please go back to your depressive mental state,” you sarcastically replied.

Jason barked out an actual laugh. Though his laugh was odd, like someone who’s only now discovering that humans were indeed capable of laughter, you found comfort in it. It was no longer hysterical and devoid of humor. He was getting better, learning to embrace a connection with someone, and it made you extremely happy.

“Maybe I should,” he answered with a cheeky glint in his eye, “Then that way you can give me more sponge baths.”

He left you alone in his room, flushed and at a loss for words.

***

“I find it very odd that people would yell ‘Batman!’ when they realise you’re there,” you rambled while climbing out of the Batmobile.

You were absolutely drenched from the downpour that had been going on all night. It was 4 am on a friday night and you had just returned from patrol.

Bruce took off his cowl immediately, revealing tired eyes despite the relatively slow night.

“It’s like they’re saying ‘Look at me! I’m here! Please knock me out or hang me upside down from the-’ Bruce?”

Bruce had stiffen, staring at something behind you. You turned around and was shocked to see Jason in the mid-distance, sitting on the ground outside the black box that was his room, leaning against the cool metal.

He himself was staring intently at Bruce, not even sparing you a glance.

You looked back and forth between the two men, sensing a high tension silent conversation.

Then, Bruce’s eyes relaxed and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards ever so slightly in that hardly-there-Bruce-smile.

He gave Jason one stiff nod of understanding, then walked away to the computers at the other end of the cave, leaving you alone with his son.

Jason relaxed as you walked over to him, wringing your hair to squeeze out all the excess water.

“Aw, you waited up for me,” you teased, standing in front of him with your hands on your hips, grinning away.

“Fuck off,” he snorted, “I was bored.”

You noticed him clenching his jaw as he looked at you from top to bottom, eyes lingering longer on the ‘R’ on your left breast.

Ah, it was his first time seeing you in your uniform.

His uniform.

Suddenly, you felt like an imposter in those colors and had the strong urge to rip the uniform off.

You wanted to say something, but Jason beat you to it.

“There were times in that shit hole where I wanted to burn that uniform off my skin,” he grit, “Kept on thinking to myself. I wish I never became Robin. I wish I never met Bruce Wayne.”

Your heart shattered at his confession. It was extremely rare for him to bring up anything related to his two year torture, and the previous times were never in such detail.

Realising you needed to say something, you opened your mouth. “I’m so-”

“Don’t,” he cut you off, “You don’t have to say anything.”

Yes, sometimes you knew that he just wanted you to listen.

You nodded silently and went to sit next to him on the floor.

“It… suits you,” he forced out.

“Hmm?”

“The uniform. It suits you. More than it ever suited me,” he grumbled.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I think your ass would look quite nice in green,” you joked, nudging his shoulder with your own.

He chuckled deeply, nudging you back even harder- hard enough for you to lose your balance and topple sideways, earning another breathy laugh from Jason.

***

Another month passed by, and you found yourself falling deeply for Jason- much to your dismay. You knew Jason wasn’t ready for any kind of intense emotions, and that it would take a very long time before he was.

So you swallowed your emotions down, stifling them and hoping it would go away.

The two of you had developed a pleasant friendship, often bickering and joking around, with Jason teasing you about your obvious physical attraction to him.

He also now occasionally waited outside his cube for you to come back after patrol, never really venturing too far from it, and still avoiding contact with both Bruce and Dick. Only you and Alfred had the privilege to speak to him.

Even then, sometimes you would visit his room but only getting a “I’m not feeling it today. Please leave.”

Understandingly, you would nod silently and leave him alone. You knew he still had his bad days, sometimes not eating his meals.

But mostly, he was getting better, both mentally and physically.

With nothing much to do the whole day, Jason was now obsessed with working out and bulking up. He now had a few simple equipment in his room- mostly weights.

You figured that it was a coping mechanism for him, a healthy outlet to channel all his rage and negative emotions into.

But come on. He was getting even hotter and it was making it extremely difficult for you to stop yourself from checking him out, fantasizing about him when he wasn’t around. Still, you couldn’t complain. Even though he hadn’t reached Dick’s size yet, he was very near to it, and his naturally bigger body frame and build made up for the still developing muscles.

Hell, he was now sporting a six pack.

But you knew that he was still not as well as you hoped he would be. The bloodshot eyes he had was proof that he doesn’t sleep well- and you soon found out why.

It was a little past midnight on your night off from patrol, and you were using your break in the best way you could think of- by sleeping. Something woke you up that night.

A soft knock on your door.

You frowned, eyes still closed, wondering who it was.

Bruce would usually knock twice. Strong, clear, and with purpose. Dick would start pounding rapidly on your door, annoying you intentionally. Alfred would give three soft knocks followed by a ‘Miss?’

Your eyes flew open. There was only one other person in the manor.

Throwing your covers aside, you jumped out of bed and rushed to the door to open it.

Jason stood outside your door in the dim lights of the hallway, frowning and running his fingers nervously through his messy dark hair. He was wearing a t-shirt with boxers, standing awkwardly.

“Jason?” you hated how your voice sounded so sleepy. You cleared your throat. “Are you okay? Would you like to come in?”

He nodded silently, and you made way for him to enter before closing the door behind you.

“Sit on the bed,” you told him while jumping back into yours, sitting up cross legged.

The bed dipped when he sat on it, copying your motion and crossed his legs.

You waited for him to say something, your eyes straining to catch his in the dark. But he just remained silent, staring into space and avoiding your eyes.

“How did you know this was my room?” you asked, starting with a light topic.

“Only one that was locked. I already know where everyone else sleeps,” he explained.

“That’s right,” you realised, “I tend to forget that you’re probably even more familiar with the manor than I am.”

“Did you know there’s an old dumbwaiter in Bruce’s room?” you saw him smirk from the shadows that was casted on his face, “I used to hide in there, waiting to catch him off guard.”

“What? Why?”

“Dick and I, we had a bet,” he recalled the memory, “Whoever gets to surprise Bruce first would owe the other a special favor. Only rule was that we had to have it on video as proof.”

You appreciated that moment, the first time he ever spoke about both Dick and Bruce as a fond memory.

“I won, by the way,” he continued, “But- I forgot to press record on my phone.”

“Oh, no,” you groaned for him.

“Yeah, and Dick refused to believe me,” he chuckled, “That old man didn’t want to admit it either. But I swear- the look on his face when I jumped out while he and some model were going at it- priceless.”

Your jaw dropped, and then you burst into a fit of laughter, tears filling your eyes.

“You- you- you jumped out on him while he was having sex?!” you squealed.

“Yeah,” he grinned, “I didn’t even care that it sort of scarred me, because I managed to catch Batman off guard.”

The both of you laughed, his deep voice mingling with your own on that quiet night.

“I’m glad you’re here, Jason,” you smiled warmly at him.

But then, his smile fell.

“I hate my name now.”

“I’m sorry,” you began, “You said it was okay to call you that, so I-”

“No, it’s fine,” he started running his fingers through his hair again, “It’s just- I don’t know.”

“You can tell me anything,” you reassured, “It won’t leave this room. I promise.”

He looked at you, worry in his eyes. “Okay. Fine. Yeah.”

You waited for him to begin.

He took a deep breath. “I’ve been having nightmares. Almost every night. It’s always the same one.”

“You want to tell me about it?” you prompted him after waiting for him to continue.

“I hate my name because he said it a lot. Joker,” he scowled, “After repeatedly burning my skin for my name, it’s like that’s all he said. In that annoying, high pitched, sing-song voice of his. Jason, Jason, Jason. It made me hate my name. It made me hate hearing it.”

“I- I didn’t know how much time passed when I was in there,” he continued, “But, fuck. It was- it was hell. And the worst part was that I kept on waiting for Bruce. Waiting and hoping for him to find me and save me. I was so desperate. You- I-”

He choked on his words. His eyes were squeezed shut and his lips tight.

You wanted to reach out to him, hug him, tell him that everything was okay now. But you didn’t. You waited for him to collect himself so he could finish telling you his story, just like how he wanted to.

“Anyway, I- despite all that,” he sighed, “That was the only thing that kept me sane. I kept on clinging onto the hope that he was out there, searching. And that helped for a while. Until- until that happened.”

He was breathing heavily now, fidgeting more. Jason was definitely getting increasingly agitated the deeper he went.

“Fuck,” he breathed, “Fuck.”

The moment you realised he was crying was when he let out a sniffle. You automatically took his hand in yours, squeezing it as a form of comfort.

“It’s okay,” you told him, “You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready.”

“No,” he shook his head, “I need to. I have to. I can’t take this anymore. Keeping everything in, I feel like I’m about to fucking explode.”

“Okay, then take it slow,” you said, “No rush. Anytime you’re ready.”

He nodded, eyes still closed, as if he was afraid of letting you see him cry.

“One night,” he began, “I think- I don’t know what was different- but I think something went wrong for him. Or right? That’s how it was. Tormenting me was fun, but it was also an outlet for him. But at the same time when he was happy, he also tortured me. He came to me, and- injected me with some sort of drug. That never happened before. He made sure that my head was clear whenever he hurt me so that I could feel everything he did.”

“But- he did- and- immediately, I felt weak,” he continued, “I mean, I was already weak. But my head. It was cloudy. I remember everything clearly, but it was like my brain couldn’t process it, couldn’t communicate with my body. I felt like I was looking out through a window that was my eyes- like I was in someone else’s body, experiencing someone else’s moments.”

“He released me,” Jason’s voice was now barely a whisper. “He released me from the ropes, and I fell to the floor. And then he- he- fuck.”

He let go of your hand and started pulling at his hair, rocking back and forth on your bed. He was sobbing now, his shoulders jerking up in sharp intakes of breaths. The only thing you could do was to stay silent and hold back your own tears.

You rested your hand on his knee, giving him a textile connection with reality so he doesn’t fall into his own thoughts.

“You- he- he- ruh- ruhp-”

Your heart sank to your stomach in horror as you realised what Jason was trying to say. It was as if you were plunged into icy water, chills running down your spine at the true revelation of what he had gone through in that cursed cell.

“Oh, no,” you breathed.

“He pushed me down,” he choked, “Pushed me down and climbed on top. I- I couldn’t even fight him. I was- I was conscious the whole time and I knew what was happening, but I couldn’t fucking do anything.”

Your tears were falling down now, both at the sight of Jason looking so vulnerable and fragile, and at his confession. Not being able to help yourself, you threw your arms over his neck and crashed into his hard body, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder.

His arms immediately wrapped around you, clutching you so hard it was painful as he buried his own face into your shoulder.

“And he kept on saying my name,” he said in muffled cries, “Jason, Jason, Jason. The whole fucking time. And- and I knew. He didn’t do it for pleasure. He did it to torment me. He- he didn’t even- he didn’t even finish.”

Jason sobbed into your skin for the next few minutes, his tears soaking through your night shirt. “But I did. Even though it was painful. Fuck, the pain was worse than anything he had ever done to me before. But- he- I- I fucking came.”

The both of you were sobbing now, his ragged breaths mingling together with your own on that quiet night.

His grip on you was tight, as if he thought that if he let go, you would disappear. So he clung onto you with all his might to keep you there with him as he recalled the horrific events.

“That's what broke me. I was so disgusted with myself. I hated myself. And he- he saw everything and- and laughed. He laughed so hard, I thought he was going to choke and die. I’ve never seen him laugh like that. And I remember every single fucking moment of being helpless on that fucking floor while he- fuck. Fuck.”

“And then he left. He left me on the floor bleeding and I never saw him again. And I went fucking insane. I tried to kill myself so many fucking times. So many times, I lost count. That’s what I dream about every night. His laughs, and his ‘Jason, Jason, Jason’.”

And that was that. That was the story.

The end of Jason Todd.

The both of you cried long and hard that night in each other’s arms. Eventually, you both lied down on the pillows together, underneath the covers.

“Please don’t tell Bruce,” he whispered to you.

Your head was on his chest, his big arms wrapped around your waist, your legs tangled with his.

You smiled at that. Even with the trauma, even with the sense of abandonment he felt, he still wanted to protect Bruce from knowing the truth.

Because the both of you knew that the truth would kill him.

“I promise,” you whispered back.

And then the both of you fell asleep together.

***

“Has Jason been sleeping in your room with you?” Bruce asked you on one fine Saturday morning at breakfast.

It had been about a week and a half since the first time Jason knocked on your door and poured out his feelings to you.

“He gets nightmares,” you tried to explain.

He thought that if he told you everything, the nightmares would stop. But it didn’t. But he then realised that the only thing that made it better was sleeping by your side, having someone there to wake him up from living his own hell in a loop.

“And do the two of you… Just sleep?” Bruce frowned.

“Yes!” you widen your eyes in horror at the insinuation. “Bruce! Come on!”

“I know you have feelings for him, and I’m sure he does for you as well. But I don’t think something like that is what Jason needs right now,” he stated.

“Yes, I know!” you groaned at the thought having that kind of conversation with him, “Jesus, Bruce. I know. I’m just there to wake him up or help him fall back asleep. Nothing more.”

Bruce nodded, deep in thought. “Has he… told you? About what happened?”

You pursed your lips. “Yes.”

“You’re not going to tell me?”

“No.”

“Hmm,” his frown went deeper. “I understand. He will tell me when he is ready.”

“Exactly,” you smiled, hiding the fact that Jason may never tell Bruce what happened. Never the full story.

“He still hasn’t left the manor?”

“No,” you sighed, “I asked him if he wanted some fresh air. Just outside the main door, not even going down the steps. But he refused. Told me to, and I quote, ‘Fuck off’.”

“Well, he’s only just left the cave, and it’s just to your room,” Bruce thought out loud, “It’s still progress. Especially since he’s been talking to you about the past.”

“He only spoke about it one time,” you said, “And then never again.”

“I see,” he hummed, “And you’re okay with him sleeping with you?”

“Next to me, Bruce, sleeping next to me,” you corrected.

“Yes, and you’re okay with that?”

“Yeah, it’s all good,” you assured him, “I can kick him out any time I want- but I don’t want to. He looks like a lost puppy sometimes.”

“An angry lost puppy.”

You chuckled at that and couldn’t agree more.

*** While Jason got the sleep he needed when he was next to you, it was counterproductive on your end. You had never been with anyone before, and definitely had not slept on the same bed with another man.

So to feel his body heat and breaths against your skin, his occasional light snores, it made your mind go on hyperdrive.

Most of the time, the two of you would just lie down, your back against his front, or your backs against each other, or both on your backs just staring at the ceiling- and talked. You would be the one talking the most, of course, about anything you could think of. You would tell him about your day, your patrols, something you read about online, or the current news.

But that one particular night during week three of him sleeping next to you, the two of you were silent. It wasn’t an awkward or uncomfortable silence, but the kind of silence that was pleasant and was better described as a peaceful quiet.

You had your back pressed against his front and his arm was lazily draped over your waist. It was a cold night, and you were wearing just a tank top and pyjama shorts, snuggling under the covers that went up all the way to your nose.

Shifting a bit while snuggling comfortably, you pressed yourself against Jason’s body to get more of his heat. But then, you were met with something poking against your lower back.

“Ngh, please ignore that,” Jason huffed.

Oh.

For some reason, you forgot that Jason was a physically healthy male who was capable of having sexual thoughts and feelings. All this while, you thought you were the only one.

“Are you- uh- is that- uh-” you stuttered, feeling your face flush with heat.

Feeling your body suddenly alert with excitement.

“Yes, it’s my fucking penis,” he grit almost angrily, “What, never heard of an erection before?”

“Of course I have!” you argued rather defensively, “It’s just- I’m surprised, that’s all.”

“Why?” he demanded, “You didn’t think I could get it up or something?”

“No, of course not!” you denied, “It just didn’t cross my mind, that’s all.”

A pause. Then-

“Well,” he sighed, “You wouldn’t have been wrong.”

Your mind blanked for a second.

“What do you mean?” you asked softly.

“It’s my- fuck- it’s my first time,” he confessed.

“Your first time getting an erection?” you gasped.

“No, you idiot,” he snapped, “It’s my first time getting hard since… since… then.”

Oh. Oh, you were an idiot.

“It’s just- after that- even when I was downstairs, alone and safe, I- I couldn’t,” he told you, “I kept on thinking back to that time and- and I couldn’t. I found it disgusting.”

And immediately, like someone doused you in cold water, any feeling of horniness you had when you first felt his erection against you disappeared. You just felt so sad for him, but also angry. Angry that he had to go through all of that, and angrier that there was nothing you could do about it.

“So, why do you think you’re getting it now?” you asked. Perhaps talking about it in an objective manner would help guide him through his thought process.

“Are you kidding me?” he scoffed, “You’re fucking pressing your ass against my dick, what did you think would happen?”

“Wait, what?” your eyes widen, “You’re hard because of me?”

“No shit,” he said, “You’re hardly wearing any clothes, too.”

You shouldn’t feel happy due to the circumstance and context, but there you were ecstatic that he found you attractive enough to pop a boner after so long.

“Fuck,” he sighed, suddenly pressing himself closer to you.

His hand that draped over your waist when to actually grip it. Then, then, he grinded his hard on against your ass.

“Mmm,” he rumbled deeply, “Feels good.”

There. That was it. You were once again flooded with the feeling of heat that pooled at your stomach, a tingling sensation started at your core. Feeling hot despite the low temperature of the night, you clenched your thighs together, needing the slight pressure.

“Yeah?” you whispered.

“Yeah,” he grinded on you again, and then unexpectedly let out a chuckle.

“What is it?” you smiled, loving it whenever you heard him laugh.

“I thought… For the longest time, I thought I was broken. That he broke me,” he revealed, “I thought I needed to get all Wingardium Leviosa on this little fucker.”

“Oh my God,” you laughed and groaned at the same time, “You’re so fucking embarassing.”

He laughed along with you and continued. “But now I’m hard and- and horny. You made me feel like I’m normal again. Like I’m sixteen again, and getting horny over everything.”

Sometimes, we take the normal things for granted. Food, shelter, clothes. In this case, it was a goddamned boner. In a way, Jason’s erection was symbolic- however funny it sounded. Getting your sexual appetite and need back after being so traumatised was a massive leap for many people who had experienced the same thing.

It meant that Jason was healing well.

“Does that make you happy?” you asked.

“Not particularly,” he admitted, “But I’m definitely not sad either.”

“That’s good enough for now, then,” you beamed.

“Yeah,” he breathed.

Another few moments of silence. You could feel it, his cock pushing into you. However tempted you were to push back and grind, you held yourself still.

“Uh, Jason?” you voiced.

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to like, take care of it?” you asked, “I mean. My bathroom is available. Or- there are many empty rooms.”

“No,” he simply stated.

“No?”

“No.”

“It’s kinda poking into me.”

“Just ignore it.”

“Ignore it?” you gaped, “How can I ignore it? You’re literally pressing it into my ass.”

“Well, then do you want to take care of it?” he teased.

You couldn’t argue back. “Fine, I’ll ignore it.”

He chuckled. “I’ll turn around.”

When he made the movement, you suddenly grabbed him by the wrist. “No, it’s fine. Stay here.”

You expected him to tease you like he usually would, make a crass comment, or even a ‘fuck off’.

Instead, he wrapped his arms around you again in silence, and the both of you drifted to sleep.

***

“Do you think this color suits me?” Natalie asked, holding up a floral red dress.

The four of you were at the mall in Diamond District. Now that high school was over, and everyone would be going off to separate colleges in a few months, you tried to spend time with each other as much as you could.

“Any color suits you, Nat,” you rolled your eyes, “You’re hot stuff.”

“Jesus, it’s like you’re shoving it in our faces at this point,” Sarah added, flipping her brunette hair to the side, tight curls flowing down.

“Aw, you guys,” Nat pretended to tear up, “I’m gonna miss you guys so much!”

“Not again,” Alex groaned, “We’ve been through this so many times.”

“I’m gonna be so miserable without you guys,” Natalie continued on, ignoring Alex’s interruption.

“I don’t know,” Sarah shrugged, “I think I’d enjoy New York. I can have pizza parties with the rats in my overpriced apartment.”

You chuckled at Sarah’s joke. Everyone was leaving Gotham except you. Deciding to continue with Robin, you opted for Gotham University- prestigious, old, and most importantly, close to home.

Your phone dinged in your pocket. You opened it to find texts from Dick.

Dick: OH MY GOD. Dick: I’m at the Manor. Dick: Was going to the Cave gym to work out. Dick: AND Dick: JASON IS HERE!!! WHAT DO I DO?!?!

That was new. Jason would usually just use whatever basic equipment he had in his room to work out. The fact that he was at the Cave’s sparring area where all the other fancier work out equipment were was out of the ordinary.

You: Just go. See if he reacts. If he suddenly stiffens and just stay there not doing anything, then leave. If he continues on, then it’s okay to stay- but don’t initiate anything! Dick: OKOKOK

You waited anxiously for Dick’s update. All four of you were now walking towards the food court, but you hardly listened to their bickering. Forty-five minutes passed before Dick texted you again.

Dick: OMG HE TALKED TO ME You: What did he say? Dick: He asked me to pass him his towel. You: That’s all he said? Dick: IT’S PROGRESS OKAY!!

Dick was right. It meant that Dick was now the third person Jason had spoken to. Adding another person to his list of contacts was definitely progress.

You were happy for him.

You:Is he still there? Dick: Nah he left Dick: But WOW he’s looking good. He must have been really going at it. I think he might get bigger than me soon You: All he does now is work out. He’s obsessed. Dick: Yeah I can tell

You decided to leave it at that for now and try to concentrate on your friends, but Dick sent another message.

Dick: ARE YOU TWO HAVING SEX?!?!

You spat out your drink, earning weird looks from everyone.

You: DICK!!!! WTF NO!!

Dick never replied.

***

“Can I ask you for a favor?” Jason asked, his voice breaking the silence of your dark room. The two of you were on your bed, lying down and staring at the ceiling.

“Of course,” you said. It didn’t matter to you what Jason asks for. He hardly ever asked for anything.

“Could you… Take me out tomorrow?” he requested, “If you’re not doing anything else, that is.”

“Uh, sure!” you nodded, surprised. “Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere,” he shrugged, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah, okay,” you hesitated, “But- are you sure? I mean, you don’t have to go so far so quickly. Maybe you should start with just going to the backyard?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” he insisted. “I’m not a kid.”

“Okay then,” you agreed. “Tomorrow.”

You kept on glancing anxiously at him the next day as he climbed into the passenger seat of your car. He was quiet, but looked perfectly fine.

Switching the engine on, you drove out of the garage and out the large automatic gates. Trees soon surrounded the lonely road on both sides as you descended downhill into town.

“So where are we going?” he asked.

“I thought Robinson Park would be nice,” you said. It was around three in the afternoon, yet Gotham was dark as though the day was ending. It was cloudy, skies grey and wind blowing.

“You’re taking me to a park?” he scoffed.

“It’s more quiet than anywhere else,” you reasoned with him, “Less people. Spacious. Lots of greenery.”

“Whatever.”

Reaching the parking space of the park, you noticed that there were a few cars. Mothers and nannies liked to bring children out to the park around that time. Joggers and teens, college students and retired elderly seeking a little escape from the high rise buildings of concrete and glass.

You turned the engine off and proceeded to open the door, only then noticing Jason stiffening. Looking over to him, you saw that his eyebrows were pulled down in a deep frown, his jaw clenched, his hands in fists on his knees.

You didn’t say anything or make any comment. Leaning back into your seat, you waited until Jason was ready.

About five minutes passed before he took a deep breath, gave you a nod, and then opened his door.

The two of you walked along a path at the park, going deeper inside and further away from your car. There were a few joggers around, some tourists, and some teens taking photos. You saw a group of kids in the distance playing frisbee, and the others were walking their dogs.

An empty bench stood in the middle of the park, overlooking a clearing. You headed there, Jason following closely behind.

“It’s a bit gloomy today,” you pouted, “As if Gotham could be anything other than that, of course.”

You looked at Jason.

He looked like a scared dog being brought out for the first time.

His jittery knees were bouncing rapidly, his wide eyes were darting at every movement, his forehead was covered with a thin layer of sweat, and his breathing was heavy.

“Woah, woah,” you reached out to him, putting an arm on his back. “It’s okay. I’m here. Just listen to me talk, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he gulped.

“Try to calm your breathing,” you instructed, “Deep breaths, Jason. In… out… In… Out… Yeah, see that’s great.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, now calmer. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you smiled warmly, “You’re doing just fine.”

“No, I’m not,” he strained, “I feel like everything is too big. Too vast. The fucking sky looks like it’s going to crash down on me and at the same time suck me up into a void.”

“And despite all you’re feeling right now, you’re not breaking down or anything, are you?” you tried, “You’re okay, Jason. This is progress.”

“I guess,” he sighed, “I’m just- I’m so used to having four walls and a ceiling. Now everything feels too big.”

“I understand,” you empathized, “Whenever you want to go back, just say the word. Or we can even just go and sit in the car. No problem.”

“Yeah, okay, let’s do that,” he stood up.

The walk back to the car was faster.

“Fuck, I’m so fucking pathetic,” he said, running his fingers through his hair.

“No, you’re not,” you reassured him, “That was great, Jason. Come on, it was your first time outside in two years and a half. Cut yourself some slack.”

“I’m so fucking broken,” he choked.

“Don’t say that,” you scolded, “You’re not broken. And you know what, even if you think you are, we can always fix it. Baby steps. Maybe we can do this once a week. We were out for like, ten minutes? Next week we’ll try fifteen. How’s that sound?”

“Twice a week,” he stated, “I just want to be normal again.”

“Okay, twice a week, then,” you agreed, “We’ll try again in a couple of days, okay?”

“Okay,” he paused, “Thank you.”

“No problemo,” you grinned, “Would you like to stay here a bit longer or shall we go back?”

“Let’s go back.”

“Wanna stop by the diner? You can wait in the car while I ask for a take-away?”

“...okay.”

***

Jason and you had gone out twice more. Once three days after the first time, and the other a week later. The second time he went out, he lasted twenty minutes, though you were sure he was being stubborn on his part. He looked like he was having a heart attack, but he insisted on staying until he hit the twenty minute mark.

The third time, he was much much better. Surprisingly so. The two of you sat down on that bench for half an hour, with you even leaving him alone for a few minutes to get two ice cream cones.

After that, you took him for a drive around the city. He seemed to be more comfortable in the car, so you went all the way from Robinson Park to Diamond District, and back to the manor.

Bruce seemed very pleased with your update, and you swore you could see him actually smile.

“Thank you,” he had told you. “You’ve done more than I could have ever asked of you.”

“It’s no problem, Bruce. Really,” you reassured him.

“I’m his father. He is my responsibility. It’s my fault he’s even in that state. I wish I could do more for him,” he said solemnly.

“The fact that you understand what he needs is more than helpful, Bruce,” you smiled, “Not many parents can do that. You understand and respect him. That’s enough for now.”

He simply nodded.

Ever since your scheduled outings, Jason had become more and more relaxed whenever he was in the manor. He now walked to the kitchen on occasion to mess with Alfred while he cooked meals for him, sometimes sitting in the living room lounging on the couch while reading. Most of the time, though, he was down at the sparring zone of the Cave, working out.

But at night, he would never fail to knock on your door.

And at that particular night, you found yourself in the same situation again while lying down on your side with your back to his front, for the fifth time.

“You officially have to stop calling yourself broken,” you grumbled, “Because that thing poking into my ass is definitely not broken.”

He chuckled lowly. “You complaining, sweetheart?”

Oh, and yes. Jason now had started calling you ‘sweetheart’. Why? You had no clue. It was just a thing that happened. The look on your face when he first slipped it in was probably a sight to behold.

“No shit, I’m complaining, Jason,” you groaned, “You haven’t jerked off, yet? Not even once?”

“Nope,” he popped the P, “I just… I don’t want to… I don’t want to come.”

You sighed, understanding the situation. He had been disgusted with himself because he had ejaculated when Joker… Well, that. You hated to even think about it, so you always shoved the thought away.

“But unfortunately for me, I still get super horny,” he rumbled deeply, pushing his hips into you even more, “So fucking horny.”

“And then I have to suffer,” you complained.

“I can assure you, blue balls are more painful than something poking into you,” he bickered.

“It’s not that…”

“Then?”

“I get horny too, come on man,” you whined, “I’m a hormonal teenage girl. What did you expect?”

“You get horny too?” he whispered after a pause.

“Uh, yeah,” you admitted nervously. Somehow, the mood shifted, and your heart started drumming against your chest.

“Because of me?” he asked.

“Not you specifically, I mean,” you tried to back track, “You’re… Your dick pressing up against me like that, I mean, come on, Jason.”

“Simple question sweetheart,” he told you, “You get horny because of me, yes or no?”

You gulped. “Yes.”

Fuck, why did you say yes? You could have lied. You could have not answered.

“Yeah?” he breathed. You noticed that his hand was now on your hip, right above the waistband of your sleeping shorts, drawing circles onto your skin with his thumb.

You were nervous. The butterflies in your tummy was not helping you calm down.

“Yeah,” you squeezed your eyes shut, as if to protect yourself from anything he had to say.

“Fuck,” he groaned, gripping your hips and grinding his hard on against your ass even more. And did it… Fuck, did it get even harder?

Afraid of saying the wrong thing, and also out of nervousness, you remained silent. Jason’s chest rose and fall against your back, his respiratory rate increasing. His pinky finger slid underneath the waistband, testing the waters before slowly slipping his hand into your pants.

He went in so slowly, as if waiting for you to tell him no, to rip his hand away, to wrench yourself away from him. But you never did, so he went in deeper, caressing the skin beneath your pelvic bone, his heat just burning into you.

“You’re not wearing any underwear,” he commented, voice suddenly husky.

“I don’t wear them to bed,” you informed him.

“You mean to tell me,” he growled, “That all this while I’ve been sleeping next to you and you never had your panties on?”

“It’s more comfortable that way,” you mumbled.

“Jesus Christ,” he cursed. “Thank God I never knew. Would have been torture, and trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”

“Jason,” you gasped.

“It’s true,” he said, “Damn, sweetheart.”

He went lower, closer to your center.

Your core was tingly, small pulses of electricity buzzed through your body as Jason came closer and closer and closer and-

He slipped his hands between your closed thighs and cupped you.

“Mmm,” he moaned softly, “Warm. Fuzzy.”

“Fuzzy?” you laughed, even though you felt like screaming on the inside. Screaming for more.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, burying his face into your nape, taking a deep breath. “You smell nice.”

Oh, shit. You totally forgot about Jason’s aversion to strong smells.

“I’m sorry!” you quickly apologised, “I can switch to an unscented shampoo as well so it wouldn’t be too strong for you.”

“It’s fine,” he said, “I like it on you.”

He ground his hand into your center harder.

“Mmpf, Jay,” you breathed, “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” he confessed, “I’ve never touched a girl like this before.”

“Really?” you widen your eyes in surprise.

“I was kept in a cell for two years, I couldn’t exactly talk, let alone touch, anyone can I?” he quipped.

“Right.”

“Teach me,” he said.

“What?” you whispered despite knowing what he meant.

A pause of silence. A deep intake of breath, a slow exhale.

“Teach me how to touch you,” he purred.

Fuck, you felt like exploding.

“Are you sure?” you asked.

“Yes. If you… If you want to.”

Your mind quickly tried to analyse the situation. Bruce had specifically said that Jason didn’t need any complicated matters in the relationship. It made sense. You didn’t want to overwhelm Jason with any confusion or uncertainty.

But at the same time, you’ve been figuring out how Jason thought, bit by bit. He’s told you many times that he just wanted to be normal again, to feel normal, to do normal things. And this was something that was normal, that he should do, that he wanted to do.

And you knew that he probably would take the rejection even worse.

“O-Okay,” you agreed.

Slowly, you separated your thighs, raising the one on top and hooking it over his legs behind you. Due to your shift in position, you felt the minute Jason’s fingers dip slightly into your folds.

“So, uh, this is my first time with a guy as well,” you squeaked, “But I’ll try to guide you.”

You licked your lips.

“Uhm, well, I guess you can start by running a finger up and down between my- oh! Yes, just like that.”

His middle finger slid down to your opening, and then up again slowly. His movements were uncertain, brushing only slightly against your clit unintentionally.

It was different, having someone else touch you. Somehow, despite the inexperience, it just felt better.

“Holy fuck,” he gasped, “You’re so fucking wet. Do you usually get this wet?”

You felt your cheeks heat up. “No? Yes? I don’t know! I can’t feel it.”

“Shit.”

You let him play with you some more, his fingers sliding up and down, sometimes pressing against your fleshy parts, sometimes circling and gathering your wetness, sometimes just parting your lips. Hell, he even tapped the tips of his fingers on you randomly or brushed into your delicate fuzz. You knew he was just exploring, feeling you for the first time.

And that thought made you smile and sigh.

“Teach me how to make you feel good,” he rasped.

“Uh, so your fingers are wet, right?”

“Yeah. Because you’re leaking all over them.”

“Okay, good. Now find my clit. It’s slightly above your finger, okay, to the left a bit. More. Okay, there! Yeah, right there,” you sighed, finally feeling that delicious pressure.

“Here?”

He tapped your clit.

“Ah!” you moaned, “Yes- but don’t just- nevermind, just gently circle it. Clockwise.”

He obeyed, and hell since when did Jason just obey?

He circled you gently, like you said. But he also went so, so slow.

“Faster, Jay,” you panted.

He went faster, making you groan in pleasure.

“Like this, sweetheart?” he muttered, his voice low and cracking, and sexy, and husky. You’ve never heard him sound like that before, and it drove you wild.

“Yeah,” you breathed, “Yeah, just like that. Fuck.”

“Feel good?”

“So good, Jay. Press a little harder now- fuck. Fuck. Yes, perfect. Just like that.”

The pressure built as his fingers did their magic.

“You- you’re surprisingly good at that,” you stuttered, “You sure- mmm- you sure you’ve never done this before?”

“Despite what you think,” he husked in your ear, warm breath tickling you. “I’m very good at following instructions.”

“I can see that.”

“But I’m also good at improvising.”

“Wha- oh. Oh. Fuck! Jason! Oh my fucking god!”

He started pressing even harder, and going even faster, throwing away the slow build you were going for and instead pushing you towards orgasm fast and hard, as if he was determined to prove something to you.

“Feel good, sweetheart?” he purred, “You gonna come soon?”

“Oh my- fuck, yes! Fuck, don’t stop!”

“You want to come for me?” his deep voice rumbled.

“Yes!”

What the hell? When did he learn how to talk like that?

Because with the mix of his heavy pants, his low voice coaxing you, his barrage of pleasure at your clit, you felt the familiar tightening of your core. You threw one hand back and found his hair. Running your fingers through them, you gripped them tight and pulled.

You pulled on his hair as he forced the orgasm onto you.

“Oh my God. Jason, I’m gonna- fuck- I’m- fuck- ah!”

You moaned loudly as you felt your walls flutter, clenching over nothing as you reached your high.

“O-okay, stop, fuck,” your hand went from his hair to his wrist, stilling him. He withdrew his hands from your pants, and went to grip you tight again by the waist.

“Fucking hell, sweetheart,” he groaned, grinding into you. You pushed your ass back, feeling his hardened length against your flesh in your post-orgasm bliss. “Jesus, that was so hot.”

“That was- yeah,” you giggled, “Fuck.”

His face was still buried in your neck. You could feel his lips on your skin.

“Uhm, I can, you know,” you sputtered, “Try to help you out?”

“It’s fine,” he breathed, body still tight against yours, “Just go to sleep.”

“Are you sure?” you asked again, feeling guilty that he didn’t get off. “I don’t mind.”

“I do,” he said, “It’s okay, sweetheart. That was great. I enjoyed that. I told you, I don’t want to come.”

“Okay,” you sighed.

“Go to bed.”

“Thank you, Jason.”

“Fuck, I’m so horny.”

“Jason,” you whined, “Really, I can help-”

“I’m kidding,” he chuckled, “Goodnight.”

You pursed your lips.

“Goodnight.”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood #robin #jason todd imagine #dont call me that

[piracytheorist]

A Kiss for Good Luck (8/15)

Summary: So this is the story of one born lucky, and one born unlucky. Fate will keep making them cross paths, but is it to bring them together, or to test them? Captain Swan AU.

A/N: This will hurt. I am sorry.

Rating: T (make sure you’re okay with the warnings on AO3) Warnings: This chapter contains character death, some depictions of violence, depictions of poor and unhealthy coping mechanisms, as well as a toxic relationship. Any intercourse and physical touch in general is fully consensual, but emotionally the relationship may appear upsetting to some. Also there are some elements that may resemble emotional self-harm.

Word count for this chapter: 4k (48k in total) AO3

Read from the beginning: Tumblr | AO3

~

Chapter 8: Killian Jones, October 19th 2011 – October 24th 2015

The kiss is deeper than he expected. Killian pushes the woman back, but gently. He was the one who gave her permission to kiss him, after all.

"I thought it would be a quick kiss. I have a girlfriend."

Her brows are going wild. "Shit. Sorry."

He's so stupid. What would Milah think? "'Salright. Go pee."

"Yes. That,” she slurs. “Thank you again."

Just as the woman closes the bathroom door behind her, Milah appears above him.

“You okay?” she says.

He looks at her confused, before he realizes it's not that normal to sit on the floor while at a club. “Yeah,” he says. “Just very, very drunk.”

She gives him her hand, he takes it, then she starts pulling at him. “Let's go outside for some air. There's too much smoke in here.”

“I wanna pee!”

She drags him up. “You can pee outside! Let's go!”

It feels better outside. The cool, clean air wakes him up a bit.

Milah throws her arms around Killian's neck and pulls him to lean his forehead on hers. He smells the martini in her breath, landing hot against his lips.

He closes his eyes. He could stay like this forever, and how he wishes this moment lasted that long...

“How sweet,” a sharp voice says from the side.

They turn together to see Gold staring at them, his hands crossed on the handle of his cane. There's two big guys flanking him, and Killian pulls Milah aside, stepping in front of her.

“What do you want?” Killian says.

“I did wait,” Gold says. “I held back, let you take my wife away from me.”

“Shut up,” Milah says, moving to Killian's side. “Our marriage was over long before I met Killian.”

Gold looks at her, hand grabbing the cane hard.

“You... you followed us here?” Milah says, suddenly realizing. “What the hell? Where's Jack?”

“You have no right to ask about him,” Gold says and takes a brisk step forward. “You went against my conditions for meeting him. You brought that bastard with you!”

Milah flinches, and Killian's left hand grabs onto hers.

“And you?” Gold looks at him. “Going behind my back to take my son on your side? Trying to buy his love?” His face seems to barely contain his rage as he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a handgun.

Killian's hand squeezes Milah's as his other one raises up in defense. “Whoa, Gold, wait-”

Gold shoots.

Though Killian’s ears are ringing from the exploding sound, he hears Milah's trembling sigh. It feels like it's hours later that he turns to look at her, eyes going straight for the growing red spot on her chest.

And then she's falling.

“No,” he whispers and holds her, gently breaking her fall.

Her eyes are moving wildly, then she coughs and a thin trail of blood runs from the corner of her lips.

“No, no. Milah...”

She focuses on him. “I love you,” she whispers. She gasps one last time, then she's limp in his arms.

It's like even more hours pass. He feels her hot blood staining his hands.

Her eyes are closed. She's not breathing. Only her blood moves, dripping out of her body even though her heart has stopped beating.

“No,” he says.

He hears the tapping sound of a cane, and he looks up to see Gold standing above him, gun aimed at him. His henchmen also aim their handguns at him.

“What are you waiting for?” Killian says. “Finish it.”

What else can he say? It's not as if he'd leave him to tell the tale.

“Oh, no. You won't be so lucky,” Gold says, but he doesn't move.

Killian manages to hold himself back only long enough to set Milah down gently, then he lunges at Gold, grabbing the gun.

It all happens in half a second.

Gold shoots, Killian's ears are ringing again, and he sees two fingers fly off in a sudden fountain of blood.

He drops down to his knees. His left hand hangs limp in a way no hand should. The thumb and index finger are missing, and there's a gaping crescent hole, starting under his middle finger and reaching to the middle of his wrist.

The pain hits him suddenly and a scream erupts from his throat.

His vision comes and goes; one moment Gold is standing above him, the next Killian is leaning over Milah, the blood spilling from his hand onto her unmoving body.

There's more people screaming; people shouting; sirens, blue and red lights...

Then white. So much white.

Killian is just three days younger of twenty-eight when he once again thinks how he's cursed.

Milah is dead, there is no doubt about that. His hand was amputated, and he has to spend a whole week in the hospital before the doctors clear him for a transatlantic flight.

In the meantime he learns that Milah's body was sent back to England, per Gold's request.

At first, he finds it impossible; but the cops who'd questioned him about the assault soon inform him that Gold has solid alibi in London at the time of the murder.

Killian almost shuts down in the week he has to spend in there; Gold must have stolen Killian's phone before fleeing the scene of the crime, and Killian has no way of contacting Nemo, and he didn't let him know the specifics of his trip in the first place, like when exactly his return trip would’ve been.

If Nemo had known, he would have worried after not getting any news from Killian the day he was supposed to return. He would have contacted hospitals, would have found out about the assault. Probably would even honor Killian's request to attend Milah's funeral in his place, if Killian had the guts to actually ask him for that.

And to top it all, Nemo's phone at home is out of order. Why didn't he ever bother memorizing his cell phone? Now all Killian can do is lie in his hospital bed and do his damnedest to avoid looking at where his left hand is no more.

The blasted week goes by; Killian spends the rest of his savings into a new return trip, the only one he can afford has two stops in between.

He's dead tired, hungry, with fresh dog crap under his sole, and somehow he's not surprised to see his apartment has flooded.

It's three in the morning and he contemplates walking through the ankle-deep water anyway and collapsing in his bed.

He stands so long in front of the open door of his apartment that eventually the downstairs neighbor comes to complain about water dripping into his place.

One call to the fire department later, Killian picks up his two bags – he didn't have the heart to throw Milah's stuff away – and takes a taxi to Nemo's place.

Nemo obviously got out of bed to let Killian in, and of course, he asks Killian what happened.

It's like he's seventeen again, unable to react to one of the most life-changing news he ever received, only the opposite, in the most grim way that he never dared imagine.

He's hiding his handless arm inside his jacket pocket and silently walks the stairs up to his old bedroom. He doesn't answer Nemo's questions next morning, he doesn't even sit down to get breakfast. He goes straight to the lawyer Milah had during her divorce.

Gold is paying people to give false testimony, and Killian is gonna take him down.

Too consumed in his own hatred for the man, the whole week he spent planning his comeback he didn't think of the problems the lawyer is listing now; Killian was drunk – as evidenced by hospital records – enough for his testimony to be considered debatable; he also has motive to want to get back at Gold, stronger than Gold's motive to kill his unfaithful wife three whole years post their divorce which concluded in his favour; and of course, one has to prove first that Gold's witnesses are lying before questioning Gold's alibi of more than five thousand kilometers away from the scene of the crime.

Killian doesn't return to Nemo's place. His own apartment stinks, damp and moldy, half of his furniture and appliances were ruined, but at least his bed is functioning, and he can't deal with Nemo's sympathy right now.

He needs to take Gold down. He can't have any more distractions.

It takes him a month to remember his therapist. He checks his emails for the first time since the assault, and he feels he loses another part of him at the news of his therapist moving towns to study for a doctorate; she's suggested other therapists at him, followed by two more emails of asking if everything is okay, then nothing.

Killian looks at the names and phones of the suggested therapists as if they're threats to his consciousness. He actually laughs. Dr. Eriksen had him since before he was even an adult and she knew everything about his fucked-up adolescence. Where would he even begin with someone new?

He deletes the email.

For two years, his whole life centers around finding weak spots in Gold's armour. He quits from Shakespeare's boat rental and works at stock in the harbor. It's a tough, time-consuming job, but it keeps him in view of the sea and gets his mind off his pain. Alcohol takes over that job in his time off.

He stops drawing; Milah used to draw with him and it nearly breaks him to pick up a pencil to sketch. The last thing he sketches is the design for the tattoo with her name on it that is soon permanently inked on his arm.

Two years of trying, as much as his exhausted psyche and a mind always leaning towards booze can handle, and the best he manages is to break into Gold's house, hack through his computer and locate some suspicious activity between Gold's bank account and the one of one of his witnesses.

Thirteen years of no spots in his criminal record mean nothing to the law when there are spots in it in the first place, and he's arrested for breaking and entering.

Nemo responds to Killian's call to bail him out, even though Killian has barely spoken to him in two years. However, the disappointment is, for the first time since Killian met him, visible on his face.

“It's your decision,” Nemo tells him after Killian is out. “Your path to choose, and your life to ruin.”

If it were anyone else, Killian would be flipping him off. But Nemo is the one who took Killian in as an assortment of broken pieces and put him back together, loving and patient all throughout. The one who has always been too good to be called a mere father.

“It's not just wanting to get back at that bastard,” Killian says, nearly shouting. At Nemo's small flinch, Killian breathes in and out. Among all his losses, it's the first one that has filled him with such rage. “That monster killed her in cold blood. And he's out there now, not paying for his crime-”

His voice is too unsteady now to accommodate shouting.

“It's not just personal. He killed her-” A soft sob breaks his sentence in half. “-and he's walking free.”

“The world is not fair,” Nemo says in a very soft voice, hand resting on Killian's shoulder. “Come home, son. This isn't what you need right now.”

“No. I need to see him behind bars.”

“You need to grieve.”

Killian scoffs, laughing mirthlessly. “It's been two years.”

“Exactly.”

He drops his gaze. If he looks at Nemo's face right now, he may crumble, and his efforts of two years – albeit not very successful – will be rendered pointless. The time he lost, the damage he's done to himself, to his relationships with everyone, Nemo, Shakespeare, Will and Tink, it will all be for nothing.

And worst of all, he'll be yet another one who will do Milah wrong. If he gives up, he'll be doing to her nothing better than what Gold did, and the very thought sickens him.

There's only one thing he changes. His drinking has reached new levels, and he needs, if nothing else, to survive in order to bring Gold down. So for now, AA meetings are something.

At first, he only talks about how he manages to stay clean, how he slips and how he tries to not beat himself up over it. His fifth meeting is on a particularly bad day; the story of watching the love of his life die slips from him, and across the circle he gets looks of pity that he hates.

If only he told everyone about the furious thoughts for revenge on Milah's murderer that have been plaguing his every waking thought for the past two years.

He slumps in his seat and stays silent for the rest of the meeting. He shouldn't have come today, he should have known he would be too emotional to think rationally before speaking.

The meeting ends and he's already made up his mind to look into other AA groups before he even exits the building.

“Excuse me,” a voice calls at him.

He turns. It's Eloise Gardener, one of the attendees.

“On the last meeting you mentioned that mental activities keep your thoughts away,” she says.

“Yeah?”

“I'm hosting gardening classes, two evenings a week at the Bare Feet Greenhouse. I thought I could invite you to join, they're already quite cheap and I'll give you a discount.”

“Your name is Gardener, innit?”

She smiles. “And I am a gardener. Shocking, I know. But I've found it's a good distraction, especially knowing you're taking care of a life. You get the satisfaction without committing to... raising a child, let's say.”

Killian decides it's worth a try; unlike the AA meetings, raising a plant actually has visible proof of progress.

He stops coming to the meetings, but Eloise doesn't ask him why. She teaches him and guides him through providing a good environment for his plants.

One night after class, she helps him move the pots with his grown plants to his apartment. He doesn't truly invite her in, and when she initiates a kiss with him, he takes a few seconds of thinking before he realizes he doesn't mind that much.

It's just fuck, and Eloise doesn't seem to be thinking it's anything deeper than he does.

If he thinks it's any deeper, he'll just be haunted again by that miserable thought, that the last person he kissed before Milah died was not Milah herself, but a random stranger whose face he wasn't even sober enough to remember.

Eloise leaves and within minutes, he's left as well to search for any open store that sells booze. Rain is pouring down, cars splash him until he's soaking wet, but he finally gives up when he trips and falls, his leg hurting too much to take him too much further.

Even the couple of hours he stays in the hospital while they put a walking cast on him feel unbearable. Two years have gone by and the memories of hospital misery are still too raw.

Eloise doesn't comment on the cast nor his continued absence from the AA meetings. She invites him to her place and after they have sex he asks if he can stay the night. That way it's much easier to avoid looking for a drink to deal with how disgusted he feels.

Even the other people attending the gardening lessons wouldn't imagine Eloise and Killian are sleeping together – and Killian is attending two different classes side by side. Not that there's anything to show for it. They just fuck, sleep in the same bed, and that's all. She keeps him from running out for a drink in the middle of the night, better than any AA meeting managed, he gives her a person to have control over the way she wants, and they scratch each other's itches.

Nemo keeps trying to stay in touch with him, and Killian nearly blocks his number out of pure shame. Perhaps if Nemo realizes he's been blocked he'll stop bothering.

Killian has practically moved in with Eloise now, or she with him; in any case, they'll sleep in the same bed every night, whether it's the one in Killian's apartment or the one in Eloise's house.

He cannot connect who he was before with who he is with Eloise now. Before Nemo even adopted him officially, Killian had allowed him to pick up his pieces and make him a functional human. With Milah, it was Killian who was the whole, the rock she could lean on.

With Eloise, he can once again be broken, but without any expectation to get fixed back up – and he's too tired for unrealistic expectations. He can stay the mess that he is, sharing his body and his space with her so that he can feel something, even when the feeling isn't the best. Eloise is controlling and demanding, and Killian's feelings for her range from fear to disgust, but he prefers those over pain, grief, rage, and a continuously burning thirst.

It's easier to hate his... “partner” than to hate everything else in his life, including himself.

He's actually shocked to realize two years have passed since his first time with Eloise, and nothing at all has changed. Their feelings didn't change towards one way or another; they just kept fucking, sleeping next to each other, and going by their day without thinking about each other.

He almost hates it when she asks him to ride with her to a concert in Maidstone. Not only because she's making ensuring no-one assaults her sound like a chore, but also because he's still not ready to enjoy music he used to love. Especially not in her presence. Being in her company is not a circumstance that fits happy thoughts.

There's a lot of things he's been denying himself since Milah died. Everything that used to make him happy, even the company of his family, feels sullied now.

He doesn't expect to enjoy the concert. But Eloise buys his ticket and drives the car, so he decides that he can tolerate one night of being a boy toy to discourage sleazebags.

It doesn't even feel that special that his birthday is tomorrow; he lost Liam a few days after his fifteenth birthday, and Milah a few days before his twenty-eighth. Maybe it's just not in the cards for him to celebrate it again.

For three whole hours, he forgets everything. There's just the music, and the lights, and his throat getting sore from singing without a care.

There is, of course, the occasional groping, people stepping on his feet, even getting an elbow to the ribs, but for him it's all par of the course now. Including checking his pockets afterwards and realizing that twenty pounds are missing. And Eloise being... well, Eloise.

“You were supposed to stand by my side,” she starts complaining after the concert is over and people start dispersing.

“I can assure you I was touched against my consent far more than you were.”

“Is that supposed to be an excuse?”

Ugh, her arrogant, calm face she makes when she tells him off. He hates it.

“If you wanted an actual bodyguard, you should have hired one. I only have one hand,” he bites back at her.

“Really? I get you a birthday gift and you consider this an appropriate response.” There’s no question mark in her tone.

“Oh, piss off. As if you've given a fuck about my birthday all these years.”

Her lips purse together, but her voice keeps that cool tenor that irritates him to no end. “I wanted to make it a good one for you. Just because you don't care about it doesn't mean no-one else does.”

He sighs. He actually had a good time and he doesn't want it ruined by her gaslighting. He's experienced people actually caring for his birthday, and he knows Eloise's words are just words. Next, she'll say that she contacted Scorpions themselves and asked them to have a concert the day before his birthday.

She shakes her head and goes for the portable toilets. At last, he can have some time on his own. He turns his head away and back to the scene, now completely empty.

No One Like You wasn't exactly the song he liked the most tonight, but it's the one he can't stop humming. He's humming!

Maybe he does owe Eloise a bit. Just a bit.

"Catchy tune, huh?" he hears from the side.

He turns, seeing a woman with a wide smile on her face.

"Oh, which one isn't?" he says, smiling back. "What a night."

The woman nods. "Did you have fun?"

The words pour out of him like vomit. "A lot of people stepped on me, I got groped, pick-pocketed, and I got in a fight with my...” – How should he call her? – “friend, but you know what?" He shrugs. "Bloody worth it."

"Oh.” Her face softens. “Sorry that you were mugged."

"Ah, it was like, twenty quid. I've known better than to carry credit cards where hands can easily reach." A very dedicated hand, maybe. There's only so many hiding spots he has.

"Do you have a ride back home?" the woman says.

He stares at her, and he feels his jaw drop when he realizes. "Bollocks. I overshared, didn't I?"

She just smiles. "I mean, I have a car, and space for two... how many of you are there?"

He scratches behind his ear. "Don't worry. We've got a car. And we going right back to Brighton, anyway."

"Oh.” She seems to think for a moment. “I don't even know where that is."

He holds back a laugh. "Figured so. From your accent."

Her smile widens. "I'm Emma," she says, extending her hand.

"Killian," he gives his hand back, careful to keep his left arm inside his jacket pocket. She's still looking at his face when he drops his hand to his side. "So... you know that they're actually having a few concerts in the States for this tour, right? How come you decided to fly all over to here?"

"Well, today... or more like, yesterday," she pauses as she checks her watch, "was my birthday. This was more like a birthday gift to me, and of course I'm going to see them in-” She pauses suddenly. “What?"

She's obviously cut off by the expression on his face. "You're not kidding? Tomorrow- or, today, is my birthday."

"Wow. Happy birthday, then."

"Happy birthday to you too. Seems it was a great one."

Emma seems happy as she looks back at the now empty stage. "I'd say one of the best ones. Does your birthday seem promising?"

His chest feels twice its normal size when she turns to look at him. Somehow, with their birthdays being so close, it feels as if her having had a great birthday is feeding his own satisfaction for that day, for the first time in four- no, five years.

Some of her slightly messy hair is sticking to her face – she probably went all out dancing tonight – and her eyes seem to droop in drowsiness, but she's absolutely glowing.

Glowing and looking at him.

When she takes a step towards him, it feels like it's gravity that's pulling his own body to her.

"It seems that way, aye," he replies.

Her eyes close when she's a few inches away from him, but he waits for the moment his lips touch hers to close his eyes.

~

(A/N: I want to remind the readers that this chapter is told from Killian's point of view, distorted as it is from grief, rage and isolation from the people he loves. Emotional progress is almost never visible in the short term, especially regarding addictions. Killian might have thought the AA meetings didn't help him, but it doesn't mean that giving up and depending on a controlling person to keep him clean was the healthy thing to do.

I know it's a work of fiction but some lines are easily confused, so the message I want to pass is that if you or a loved one is trying to let go of an addiction, keeping up the effort when progress isn't directly visible may be hard, but it's worth it and will eventually help.)

#Killian Jones #Captain Swan #captain swan ff #cs ff #ouat ff #akfgl #captain swan movie marathon #I swear I hadn't planned on posting this on Colin's birthday 😅 #it's just how it came up #piracytheorist writes

[a-froger-epic]

What are your top 5 favorite angst moments in fics by other people

Thanks for resending the ask! The original one seems to be stuck in Tumblr limbo.

This was so hard. I literally just spent 45min going through my bookmarks and I could point you to some people's entire fic catalogues or entire fics without being able to pic a single scene in particular because they have so much delicious angst. (Yeah, I'm looking at you @aboutnothingness and @freddieofhearts and @i-lay-my-life-before-queen's Omegaverse Froger, or also @immistermercury's Jimercury ballet!Freddie epic and really several oneshots by some of my favourite authors in their entirety.)

But. I had to choose. So here are, in no particular order, some scenes:

---

Princes of the Universe by @tikiniki

Sci-fi AU. John saves Prince Freddie's life. 😰

Then, through the screams and gunfire, John heard Roger’s voice.

“John, Freddie! Watch out!”

And John spun around, just in time to see Roger throw himself towards Kassius, Kassius who had his gun raised and aimed at Freddie’s back.

His breath caught in John’s chest. Roger wouldn’t be fast enough.

He wasn’t.

The release of the bullet from Kassius’s gun disappeared in the rest of the noise. John acted on instinct.

He was barely conscious of moving at all. He barely noticed shoving Freddie to the side as hard as he could. He didn’t hear the surprised outcry leaving Freddie’s mouth.

But he felt it. Felt when the bullet pierced his chest.

The force of the bullet made him stumble back. He tried to draw a breath, tried to make a sound, but all was white-hot pain. The next second the guards were upon them. John was shoved in the chaos, his knees buckling beneath his weight.

Unable to catch himself, he fell over the edge of the pool.

Just before he breached the surface, he heard it.

The sound of voices crying out his name.

He smiled as he hit the water.

---

Aftercare by @bisexualroger

Freddie got mugged. 🥺

There’s an alien quality to the mirror, despite the fact that Freddie uses it every day and has done for months now. Perhaps it’s not the object itself that’s unfamiliar, but rather what it’s reflecting, the offending image subsequently contaminating the rest of the room with its strangeness. Lucky for him though; if the face in front of him registered as his own it might be too much for him to handle. Today’s been difficult enough without having to fully acknowledge the physical consequences of his earlier misfortune.

Freddie leans closer to the glass. The sight makes his lip tremble and his hands shake, but he swallows down his distress and reminds himself to view it objectively. It’s not his face, just a problem that needs to be fixed.

Taking another deep breath he tries again to go in with the cotton wool pad. Slippery with alcohol the cheap fabric desperately wants to slide out of his hand, but he keeps his grip steady as he brings it to his face. Immediately though the burning sting has him wincing. He tries to hold his nerve but the pain only intensifies, making his eyes prickle so he can no longer see what he’s doing. With a stifled cry of frustration he tosses the wool down into the sink and slides to the floor.

Once there his first instinct is to curl in on himself, but the pain in his ribs prevents him from doing so, which only makes matters worse. He’s been at this for fifteen bloody minutes, and much as he wants to shout and rage at the unfairness of it all his anger is infuriatingly manifesting itself through tears rather than determination. For goodness sake all he wants to do is have a hot shower and forget the entirety of this awful day, but he can’t until he’s dealt with this. It’s so agonisingly unjust.

---

The Path of Nevermore by @plainxte

Things are complicated. *sings* Give me one night only, one night only... 😭

"Yeah. I should probably head out," Roger said, looking around him. He was sure there was somewhere that he had promised to be that day.

"Please, Rog," Freddie said. "Don't go. Don't leave me alone. I mean. Don't send me to the path," Freddie said.

Roger turned to him with a smile. It quickly faded when he studied the look on Freddie's face: he was completely serious, and there was no hint of amusement in his eyes. He meant it, Roger realised. When Freddie said nothing more, just continued to look at him, it finally hit him what Freddie was saying. The seriousness of what he was asking.

"Of course I won't leave you," Roger whispered. "You know that. I wouldn't. But you know I can't, I can't – "

Freddie carefully lifted one hand, putting it hesitantly on his cheek, only just touching. His fingertips ghosted over Roger's cheekbone. "I know," he said. "And that's not what I meant. And I can't, either. But just for now. Please don't go. Please."

Roger took a breath. His thoughts were getting no clearer; if anything, his whole head seemed to be in a fog. He wasn't thinking; he couldn't think. He could only nod. Freddie leaned closer, and Roger closed his eyes. After what seemed like an age, he felt soft lips touch his. He reached up his own hand to Freddie's face, skimming over his jaw to come to a rest in his hair.

"And about time, too," he breathed.

---

Sobering Up by... oh whoops, it seems their tumblr was deleted or changed names. Well, nevermind, I still love this fic so much.

Roger and Freddie don't know how to deal. 💔

They lie there afterwards, stewing in a pregnant silence. Normally, sex put Roger right to sleep but this… he was unable to wrap his head around any of it.

He rolled over to lie on his stomach away from Freddie. He took a pillow and clenched it tightly in his arms, pressing his face deeply into it. Some animal instinct was telling him if he squeezed hard enough then the painful sickening swirl of emotions in his chest might ebb away.

Freddie softly cleared his throat. “Rog,”

“Hm?” Roger feigned sleepiness. He didn’t feel like having any kind of pillow talk.

“What…” Freddie faltered. “What do you think the future has in store for us?” Roger felt his heart seize up.

“What’d you mean ‘us’?” His voice was muffled in his pillow, but it didn’t mask the cracking on the last syllable. He heard Freddie make a sharp intake of breath.

“Queen.” He said. “What do you think we’ll be like in the future? D’you think we’ll make it?”

Roger was quiet at first. Freddie wasn’t the type to avoid the elephant in the room like this.

“Dunno,” Roger sighed, still clinging tightly to his pillow. “But I won’t stick around if there are better places to be.”

“Are there better places to be?” Freddie’s feigned curiosity did nothing to hide the anxiety in his voice. And it dawned on Roger that they weren’t going to talk about the sex. They were never going to talk about it. It had happened and that was all. It was too big, much too big, for either of them to face. This was Freddie’s way of asking if Roger was okay with that.

Roger didn’t exactly feel relief at this revelation. Somehow he felt like he had given Freddie a much more intimate part of himself than he had given any other partner. And the seriousness of that weighed heavily on him. Nothing would be the same for him again. But it had to be.

---

On the side of a hill, a sprinkling of leaves by @quirkysubject

Freddie falls in a puddle and can't get up (also this scene is way too long to quote all of it, but like THIS WHOLE SCENE MAN 😭💕)

“Jesus, Fred, are you alright?” Hands are on his back, his shoulders, trying to urge him up. Oh, how Freddie wishes Roger would just leave him alone (liar, the warm and tiny and inextinguishable gleam of hope inside him whispers).

“Fine,” he mumbles as he lies face down in the mud, waiting, praying for the earth to swallow him up.

“Freddie, come on, get up.” The hands tug a little harder. And then, when Freddie just shakes his head, Roger’s hands slide under his armpits, and he is hauled upright with a frustrated, “What the hell’s the matter with you?”

It’s this that does it. All ability to contain himself evaporates.

“I hate this so much!”

The words explode out of him. He can hear how his voice sounds, shrill, pathetic, whiny. Useless. But he can’t stop himself. “I hate everything about this. My ankle hurts and my arm hurts and I want proper tea with milk, and a bath, and my bed, and Tom and Jerry, and a slice of toast that is actually toasted and I… I just want to go home.”

It’s a small mercy that he can blame any wetness on his cheeks on the rain. Not that it will do him much good. He is throwing a tantrum at the worst possible moment, and Roger is going to do what he always does when Freddie is being unreasonable - walk out, have a smoke, come back an hour or two later when the storm has blown over.

Only if he leaves now, Freddie will melt into the ground and never come up again.

---

A special mention goes to a Doctor Who fic which is probably my favourite angsty fic of all time, because even though I'm not active in the Who fandom right now, I'm still Doctor/Master trash. And Locked in Orbit by @nicolauda (I think this is yours? Correct me if wrong) is one of the best goddamn pieces of writing with that ship that exist for me.

#Fic recs #Angsty moments #ask response #Phew that was hard

[kdelarenta]

3:00 am

pairing: sebastian wynric x f!speaker

rating: umm kind of angst kind of ?? idk

notes: had to delete the previous version because tumblr is acting up, sebastian belongs to @speakergame

tagged: @pearlsandsteel , @aplethoraoffictionalboys

She should be sleeping,she knows this.This isn't the first shitty motel she's had to stay in and not the first time a lovely neighbour decided to have some 'fun' (very loud fun) at three in the morning.

Good for them - at least they're getting some.

She just wishes it wasn't at three in the fucking morning,she hasn't been sleeping well as it is and she has to drive tomorrow. Sebastian did offer to take over though - of course he did. She can't explain it really,she still wants to drive. Josephine wasn't  a person who could give someone else the wheel or a person who could just sit in the back seat (and relax). If she wasn't on a mission, she was training. If she wasn't driving,she was navigating. If she had free time,she was watching Emily - making sure she's okay. She doesn't think she can stop. Still it doesn't matter,she doesn't think.(about any of it really,she jumps and kicks and runs and saves and punches and then punches some more when she can't. can't save - can't save everyone).

Yeah...she's not going to sleep any time soon. Kicking the sheets off does nothing to keep off the heat that's been suffocating her since she layed down.

Getting a drink from that wending machine she saw in the hallway doesn't seem like a bad idea at all.

Catching sight of herself in the mirror she can see that she looks like hell,it's like the constant unease she's been feeling had managed to bleed out all over her face. She was wearing her pajamas- black shorts and an oversized grey t-shirt with a questionable quote ( god she would never ever buy it on her own but Em saw it and thought it looked cute and gave her that goofy smile and of course she had to buy it). Smiling despite herself she decides to go out anyway. It's three in the morning,no one's going to see her .

The hallway is quiet besides the constant moans and groans and shouts of someone's name - Paul. Well damn Paul. She's fully grinning now,she can't even bring herself to be mad. Taking a few turns she makes her way to the wending machine. Choosing from all the drinks is easy once she spots her favorite,she puts in the money,selects the drink and waits. The drink starts to move and then stops midway. Sighing,she presses the number again but the can is still stuck. She presses again - nothing.

,,Oh come on" she groans to no one in particular and smacks the machine. Nothing - the can just stays the same,mocking her.

Yeah,fuck this.

She's already halfway through the debate of whether she should continue kicking the machine or just going back to bed when she notices she's not alone. Sebastian is standing by the wall behind her. She doesn't know how long he'd been standing there but the small amused smile on his face gives away that he definitely saw everything. Great.

,,What?"

The accusatory tone and the wild hand gestures sure aren't helping her look any less embarrassed.

,,I want a Cola"

The tone of her voice brings out a low chuckle that warms her from the inside out. Just her luck that he's the one who's awake right now. It's not the first time that fate,karma or whoever has tried to shove promises of love and happiness in her face. Putting them just at the right place at the right time,taunting her with the things she wants but can't afford to have. This time feels different though,like they're more tightly intertwined instead of loosely vowen together. It'd be cruel really, if she wasn't enjoying it so much.

He makes his way over to her,stopping in front of the machine to examine it closely. That smile is still there as he pulls out a few bills and puts them in the machine. She watches him put in the same numbers and low and behold,both cans of soda fall down without a hitch. She's way more impressed than she should be but she does a good job of hiding it behind a carefully neutraled face and a small 'thank you'. He looks pleased with himself as she slowly sips the soda - the cool drink does nothing for her because now she's warm for a completely different reason. Neither of them talk as the moment continues interrupted only by the noise that starts up again and can somehow still be heard from over there.

,,Something keeping you up?"

His mocking tone is rewarded by a sharp glare that only seems to amuse him more.

,,Ha ha,very funny" her words are dry but she's still smiling. Their amused glance soon turns into one of their staring contests. Neither of them wants to back down and she wants to think that's it's just because they're both incredibly stubborn and not because they want to keep looking at each other's eyes. The thought brings a different sort of unease - every glance,every comeback,every accidental touch feels wrong,like she should know better (and she should). That's why she looks away first,like she always does.

,,So did you just want to play comedian or is there a reason why you're awake?"

Changing the subject - always a safe bet. The words are a little harsher than she intends them to be but he doesn't seem bothered. She's convinced he simply doesn't care because the possibility that he might actually be onto what she's doing makes the unease spread all the way from her stomach to her throat.

,,I was reading the case files again" There's a pause, she sees him tense for a moment. ,,This one feels..."

,, - tricky."

,, - different."

They turn to look at each other, settling in the feeling of quiet understanding. He gives a small nod.

So it's not just her.

She knows it's risky business . She remembers the early years - the first cases. The high of returning someone safely home , the hope of helping people live another day,the pride of being useful,of making a change. From that high - there's only one way down.

She remembers Em crying,lifeless bodies and the smell of blood under the shower. Waiting for Emily to fall asleep so she can cry too - figure out how she's going to look herself in the mirror tomorrow. It takes years.It takes practice. The words are clear and strict and second nature.

,, We can't save everyone."

,, I know."

She has to stop herself from asking how he knows - it's not her place. It's better like that anyway,she lets Em be positive and fly for a bit but she's right there to ground her again before she falls. Lost in thought she almost misses the way he's been analyzing her. His eyes skim over her face,briefly stopping at her eyes until they stop to her shirt. She expects him to smile or make a comment. Nothing.

,,Let me drive tomorrow."

She almost doesn't let him finish,the words leaving her mind before she registers them.

,,No need,I'll drive."

,,You're exhausted Josephine."

The strict look he gives her makes her want to roll her eyes. She wants to shout in frustration. It's fine. Why are you like this?

,,I'll manage."

This seems to set him off judging by the scowl quickly forming on this face. They're going to start shouting soon aren't they?

,,Why are you always like this? Just let me do this for you."

The words make her inhale sharply. The need to backtrack is almost suffocating, to just run to her room and leave him here or to just shout whatever to make him let it go.But she can already feel the agitation melting from her face. She can't yell, she can't argue, it's three in the morning and she's tired.

She takes a deep breath,wondering how people do this. How it comes so easy,spilling your soul all over the floor and watching it stain shoes. His shoes are clean - they should remain so. She can't see her face but whatever expression she has makes his soften almost too quickly in return. Maybe he's tired too ( tired of her).

,,Um.." is all that escapes her, an unintelligent sound amongst the thousand words that want to claw their way out.

,, I'm not ungrateful."

She hopes she sounds convincing but all she can focus on is the desperation that seeps out. Out of guilt or out of the inability to explain.

,, I know." he breathes out. And she knows he means it,his eyes are too honest and too soft when they find hers. It really is unfair, all of it.

,, I don't have the luxury of trusting people." The words stick like honey as she drags them out. She should probably say more,she should say more - because it's Sebastian and he's here and he understands.

,, Then trust me"

He sounds so resolute,so honest that she can't look him in the eye,she wouldn't dare. Her ears are pulsing,she's going to explode so instead she focuses on his hands. They're warm - she knows this. She wants to make a home there. She wants to put down roots,stay locked in them forever and surrender to the blazing warmth of a thousand suns. She can see it so clearly - the late night conversations,coffee dates,game nights with Emily, warm embraces and soft kisses.

This isn't the first daydream showed down her throat and it won't be the last. After the case he's going to leave. He'll get payed, he'll leave and she'll never see him again and that will be the end of it.

He won't be there when she eventually fails, she won't get the chance to fail him and she's glad.

She shakes her head and heads back to her room.

She's glad.

#speaker #speakergame #speaker game #sebastian wynric #oc: josephine #seer #*myfics