#i once read that anger attacks are a bit like panic attacks | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

qwimblenorrisstan · 10 months ago

Text

Surprise Pt. 2 | Soap x Reader

Summary: The boys are slowly settling into your apartment, looking for the terrorist group they’re hunting down, while memories begin resurfacing for Simon.

Word Count: ~ 3.8k

Warnings: Mentions of death, toxic relationship, toxic family, abusive dad, panic attack/ptsd episodes, guns, violence, prob terribly inaccurate to anything military (I’m trying my hardest ok😭)

A/N: this part is mainly for worldbuilding, I’m alr working on part 3 but felt like y’all might want a little update, lmk what you want to see, hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

Previous | Masterlist | Next

It was safe to say that Ghost and Price had a long conversation that night.

“How much does she know?”

The captain had asked, hat hanging over his head before he picked it off between two fingers, setting it on the bedside table in a guest room. The two available rooms were split with Gaz and Price in one, and Ghost and Soap in the other.

Simon thought for a solid moment. He hadn’t told you anything, other than he was going to the military. He’d stayed over at your place maybe once before, years earlier, and all he’d told you was that he had a mission, an important one, something he couldn’t tell you about. To keep you safe.

It wasn’t a lie. At first, you’d been angry that he wouldn’t tell you, but something must’ve clicked at 15 because that was when you stopped questioning it altogether. Then again, at that point, he’d rarely texted you or called you at all. It had been years since physical words were exchanged at this point.

He felt bad about it, but with the last words exchanged between the two of you…it made regret and grief flare up in him all over again.

You were pacing. Back and forth, and he wouldn’t be surprised if you burnt a trail in the carpet with how frenzied you looked. Shock, grief, anger, and pure disbelief mixed all into one, your body language reflecting as much.

He hadn’t even taken his mask off yet, leaning against the wall behind him in the home his mother had grown up in. The home he’d grown up in. A home you’d visited before, only because of the court-deemed custody that your father somehow got.

“You didn’t come to the funeral.”

His harsh voice finally rang out, and your pacing stopped. You turned to look at him, defensiveness automatically rendering itself in your expression. Always so easy to read. If only you were like that now.

“I couldn’t make it in time. You know that, Simon.”

You said, and his temper flared. Every single lesson he’d had drilled into him in his military-deemed anger management classes went out of the window at that. At how you defended yourself, even when he knew you could’ve made it on time for that funeral. Or at least he thought you could’ve.

“Really? Or did you know about this, huh?”

He accused, anger building in his tone as he pushed off the wall, stalking closer to you, now pacing in his own slower, more predatory manner. Your eyes widened at his accusation.

“You think I was plotting to kill your mum? The fuck is wrong with you?”

Simon knew it was outrageous, there was no way in hell you would’ve done it. Not when you’d known her, even if only for a little bit. But Ghost….Ghost had been betrayed too many times. He was desperate for any answer, any way to get rid of you so he didn’t have to deal with any reminder of his mother, or Tommy, or his little nephew that had been so painfully young.

Maybe you didn’t understand, but if he made himself believe this…then you wouldn’t be around him anymore, and he wouldn’t have to worry about anyone killing you like they had everyone else around him.

“What about Tommy? Or Joseph? Didn’t make it to theirs either, did you.”

“Simon, I came as soon as I could, you know that. I was in that camp for a month, there was nothing I could-“

“That’s convenient, isn’t it.”

He said drily, stalking closer, hand moving to the hilt of his gun. You didn’t notice, probably because you had no military training or anything of the sort. If he wanted to kill you right now, make you disappear, he could. Easily, too. He could already think of how he’d do it, the silencer on his gun covering the sound as he would shoot you, once in the head, twice in the heart, then he would take you down into the sewers, and you’d disappear-

“You’re fucking crazy.”

Your voice, slightly scared now, and your body language showing just how intimidated and panicked you were, was wobbly at best. Tears welled in your eyes as you opened the door to leave out of the front, your car, a black jeep you weren’t old enough to drive yet, but did anyway thanks to the fake ID you’d made, parked in the rocky driveway.

He snatched your arm up, yanking you back into the room as he pressed you against the wall he’d previously been leaning on. He leaned close, breath coming through the fabric of his baklava and speaking softly, like the old Simon would, to you in your ear.

“I wouldn’t blame you, you know.” He began.

“He was your dad, he was all you had, wasn’t he? Maybe you were jealous, or angry about what happened to him. What I did to him.”

He almost whispered to you, as if it was some forbidden knowledge. Your small body was stiff against the wall, unconsciously leaning away from him. You were terrified. He could feel it.

“You’re insane. Completely fuckin’ insane.”

You said, trying to squirm away, and he let you gain an inch of room, only to force you another inch against the wall. One more and your breathing would be strained if you could breathe at that.

“I’ll let you off, but if I find out you had anything to do with this, with her…”

He didn’t get to finish the rest before you struggled free, and you made it to your car quicker than ever before, and drove off, not caring about any speed limits or anything.

“Simon? You here?”

Price’s voice snapped him out of whatever trance he’d been in, and he gave a little grunt in response. Shaking himself out of it, he tried to remember what the captain’s question had been. Something about what you knew.

“The bare minimum.”

“Good. She seems like a good kid, keep her outta this.”

Simon didn’t mention the fact that you had already faced minor charges multiple times, some for breaking and entering or assault and battery, most of which were dismissed by a judge he suspected was paid off. Or the fact that you’d used a fake ID for your car for multiple years. He would know, considering he’d asked Gaz to find you multiple times. You weren’t an easy one to find, almost as if you’d tried to wipe yourself off the grid before turning back on it.

You weren’t a good kid by any means, but by your age, he’d probably been killing people already, so he supposed there were worse things to be doing.

“Roger that.”

Price gave a small nod of confirmation, clapping him on the shoulder as he went to walk to the room that he was sharing with Gaz.

“Get some rest, Simon. We’ll get directions from Laswell tomorrow. Don’t stress over it.”

Despite himself, Simon gave a little nod.

If only he was stressing over things as simple as terrorists and covert warfare.

Soap, surprisingly enough, woke up first. It was around 5:30 AM when he did, and Simon was still fast asleep on the bed beside him.

“Scuse me, Lt.”

He mumbled while sliding out of the bed, and walking to where he thought the kitchen probably was, and after wandering around, he found one small dim light on in the general kitchen area. You were standing in the kitchen, wrapping some sort of spandex-looking bandage material around your left knee. The type to help support it, in the case of an injury.

You were wearing a pair of blank shorts that didn’t go nearly far enough down your thighs, and what looked like an old jersey, with a faded number ‘14’ on it. Your right knee had a knee pad on, your left knee pad laying on the table. Your hair was pulled back into a ponytail that was braided.

You both just stared at each other for a minute, before he grinned and obnoxiously whistled.

“Lookin’ good, lass. Where ya headed?”

He asked, already watching the gears turn in your head as you tried to decode his thick accent. Surprisingly, it didn’t take you nearly as long as he thought it would. Usually, new people had to take a few seconds, but you responded almost immediately.

“Practice.”

You replied bluntly, either not a morning person, or just not a talker. By the blank look on your face, he was just assuming you were also a heartless bastard like Ghost. But even Simon Riley had his tells, and he was sure you did too.

“What the hell’ve they got you practicing for at 5 in the mornin’?” He asked, and you looked at him for a moment, as if trying to see if what he’d said was a joke. As if he was stupid. He was not stupid.

“Volleyball. I’m on the team. Got a scholarship.”

His brows raised at that. Another blunt answer. You really were Simon’s sister, weren’t you? And to get a scholarship in volleyball…he hadn’t even known you’d gone to a private school, let alone the fact that you played sports.

I mean, sure, he’d sort of assumed you might based on your muscular thighs and arms he was entranced by, or the sheer unmoving look you always had, barely changing. Volleyball girls always had nice asses though, and you weren’t an exception, that was for sure.

You were either telepathic or had seen him staring because, with a simple snap of your fingers, he had flinched out of his daze.

“Eyes up here, MacTavish.”

You said in a mildly annoyed tone, and he gave you a slightly pouty look.

“Can’t blame me for looking at it when it’s right there, now can you?”

You had only given him another annoyed glance, before slinging a bag over your shoulder and walking out. He didn’t fail to notice the way you checked the peephole before walking out. Or how your eyes darted to the windows consistently, or the nearest available exit.

He didn’t blame you, living alone as a girl in this end of town, you had to be cautious.

They had been at this all day.

Laswell had radioed them in earlier, probably around noon after they’d raided your pantry, which only really had bread in various forms in it. Your fridge wasn’t much better, only cheap lunch meats, lettuce, tomatoes, and a few miscellaneous vegetables and fruits.

Since then, they’d been on the hunt for any suspicious characters, any sign of the terrorist group that had gotten away. It had taken a bit of travel, but a few miles out, they’d passed a van, white, with four burly shadowy figures in the darkened windows. Windows too dark to even be legal.

“Armed men, four of ‘em, cap.”

Soap had said, and Price had only given a nod, taking a U-turn to trail the vehicle. It wasn’t every day you would see any military men driving in a white van with tinted windows.

It had only escalated from there.

The van had stopped near an old alleyway with no people around, failing to notice T141, who were now all trailing on foot. They’d left the car behind with Gaz, despite his protests. They needed someone able to drive, and Soap was needed to disable any possible bombs. They were dealing with terrorists here.

Slowly crawling up the building to the right of the alleyway, Ghost let his gun peek down into it through some crumbling brick on the sides of the roof’s edge.

“We droppin’ em’?”

He asked quietly over the radio, and Price, on the building roof opposite of him, replied.

“Not yet. If we can get one alive, we’ll want ‘im for interrogation. Three of ‘em on my count.”

Soap, to the left of Ghost, nodded mainly to himself, his gun focusing on the man closest to a trash can, Price on the man to the right of him, and Ghost to the man leading the other two. The fourth was lingering behind a bit, examining the surroundings. Paranoid.

“Gaz, start bringing in our exfil.”

“Got it, Captain.”

“On your mark, Sergeant.”

With that, the first relatively silent shot went off, and two more followed until all that was left was the one man, who immediately took cover and jumped through the open window of the nearly abandoned building Price was on the roof of.

“Shit. Get him.”

Price’s voice cursed over the radio, and Gaz driving the car came into view only moments later, as Ghost and Soap hopped down from the roof of the building, taking the same route as the escaped terrorist through the building, and clearing it one floor at a time.

Hours later, it felt like they’d searched the whole damn city and come up with absolutely nothing. Whoever they’d missed had disappeared completely, and possibly contacted outside forces of their presence. They had to be careful with this.

“We headin’ back?” Soap asked, and Price replied.

“Affirmative. I’ll let Laswell know what happened.”

And so they headed back to the apartment, only to find you completely not there. Gaz got there first, gun still in hand as he cleared the apartment. Just in case.

“Clear.” He radioed over,

The rest of the boys filed in after that, taking the time to take showers, in the hope that you wouldn’t notice their bloodstained clothes. It was only after they had all changed into casual clothes that Soap remembered about you.

“Anyone know where the girl is?”

Gaz seemed to stir at that, immediately on his feet, when Ghost pushed him back down into the chair he was sitting in at the dinner table.

“She’s at school, lads.” His rough voice spoke, and Gaz and Soap both made an “ohhhh” sound at the answer. It was obvious, but they hadn’t gone to school in…a long time, and you were almost an adult now, so they tended to forget about that.

“Where does she go?” Price asked, taking a sip of his cup of water. Ghost shrugged.

“Some private school, said she got a scholarship for volleyball or somethin’,” Soap added, and Ghost shot a tiny glare at him. The fact that a random Scottish man knew more about you than Simon Riley, your technical brother, wasn’t making him too happy. Soap only gave him a cheeky grin in return.

“You seem to know an awful lot about her, Soap.”

Kyle then spoke up, carefully eying Simon and Johnnie. Even as Simon huffed out of his nose, taking a sip of water. His lips were chapped, Gaz noticed. Soap gave a little shrug, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“Just curious about ‘er is all. We are living in her house, after all.” He answered, and Price stood up, mumbling something about a smoke break while walking across the kitchen to reach the balcony, where he smoked. The first time he’d tried to smoke inside, you’d grabbed it straight from his fingers, and thrown it into the sink before running cold water over it.

It took him a minute to realize that had only been yesterday night.

The week went by quickly, and the boys slowly got used to your schedule. More like they just started fitting into the routine you had, really. Having four random military men inside of your house wasn’t easy, especially when they kept leaving the toilet seat up in the bathroom in the hallway.

“Couldn’t just put the seat down, could they..”

You mumbled to yourself late into the night, slamming the seat down as hard as you could without breaking it. Every time they left it up, you made sure to put it down hard, making enough noise to wake them up. Distantly, you could’ve sworn you heard Johnny’s laughter from the room he was in with Simon, before a low “Shut it.” and a “Roger that, Lt.” was faintly audible.

You had practice almost every night, even some on weekends, which made sense considering you were the team captain for the junior varsity of your school. Once you became a Senior next year, you’d probably get team captain of the full varsity team. A big responsibility, but one you seemed to enjoy, even when some days you would come home, lock yourself in your room, and fall straight asleep without eating anything.

Where they went every day, you never asked. Didn’t want to.

One night, Price walked into the kitchen, where you kept a washer and dryer for the clothes as well, tucked into the room where it wasn’t easily noticed, and saw you pouring hydrogen peroxide on some bloodstains in their clothes. It was strong, stronger than anything you could legally get from a pharmacy, he could tell that much.

Your eyes both met, and you didn’t waver from his stare, and he didn’t from yours.

“You aren’t going to ask questions?” He asked, voice a deep rumble. Your eyes shifted away at that, back to the clothes. As if hiding whatever gleamed within them, the knowledge you had, or what you’d seen. What you knew they did every day.

“Better for all of us if I don’t.”

You’d replied simply, voice still relatively neutral, the barest amount of a British accent lingering even when you’d spent so many years in America. You almost mumbled it, as if used to speaking quietly. Based on the small fragments he knew of Simon’s past, and his father, one that you both shared, he wasn’t surprised. It would be a hard habit to break.

Whatever had kept you from interacting much with Price must’ve changed after that night, because you showed up more after that. It was late at night, and you looked beat, but he could still see the gears working behind your eyes.

“What is it?” He asked as you walked over to where he was sitting in the bed he and Gaz shared, and sat down next to him on it, showing him a notebook. He recognized what was on it, a court of some sort, a net in the middle, and a rotation of numbers, with all the enemy patterns and numbers on the other side of the net.

“Help.”

You stated simply, and he nodded before you explained to him the basics of volleyball. He only really knew the frequently adjusted rules he’d seen on the Olympics sometimes, so it was a lot of explaining, but after that, the both of you were straight to work on finding a rotation and pattern that would work to beat the team that you’d lost to twice this season.

“If 28 is your hitter, why not move them back row, to move in for the kill?”

“It would leave our defenses entirely open. A tip could lose the point and serve, and when we got the serve back, 14 would be serving. She doesn’t do well with serving under pressure. 28 needs to stay front row as long as possible to block.”

“Got it, so..”

He would admit, you were not stupid, and that was for sure. You knew everyone on your team’s strengths and weaknesses and used them to your advantage. It was almost like looking at a younger, female version of himself. Always taking charge, always thinking ahead.

And Johnny…he was obnoxious.

Always flirting with you in any way he could, making random jokes just to hear your tiny laugh or the snort you usually made instead. He couldn’t help it, even when the rest of the guys were getting sick of hearing him.

But, he had his uses, too.

When the remote would break down? Don’t worry, he only took it entirely apart, replaced and tweaked it so it would work, and put it all back together with his nails as a screwdriver.

When you were in an especially foul mood? His terrible jokes came in handy, not because you were laughing at them, but at how stupid he looked telling these jokes, chest puffed out like a proud bird when he saw you snort or your lips twitch, even though he didn’t know whether you were laughing with him or at him.

Johnny was smarter than you originally thought, as well. Had incredibly complicated math homework, and giving you a serious headache? Somehow, the bastard knew exactly how to do it.

“How do you know that equation.”

“It’s simple, really, I use it all the time for me explosives. Reminds me of the time I and the Lt planted them all over, you should’ve seen-“

“On topic, Johnny.”

“Right, sorry.”

But living with military men did have downsides, more obvious than them leaving the toilet seat up, forgetting to do the dishes when it was their day or the same for laundry, or messing up the guest beds. (Though Gaz never forgot about his responsibilities, even taking the time to make you dinner when you would get home late with what little ingredients you had.)

You were a quiet person, and Gaz had noticed it first. How you rolled on your feet, careful not to make noise, not even noticing how you were doing it. Or the way that unless you were slamming the toilet seat down for the umpteenth time, you took extra care in placing things down gently, not dropping them. It was an odd contrast with your blunt, slightly harsh demeanor that reminded him of Simon.

But it had been Gaz that made you fully remember what these men had gone through when you had been scared shitless because of Soap purposefully sneaking up behind you and scaring you, and accidentally letting out a small scream that was more like a yell. Instinct had kicked in, muscle memory as well, and before his mind even knew whose scream it was, his body was moving.

He’d tackled Soap straight to the floor, hands around his throat.

“The fuck, Kyle-“ Johnny had choked out, and it had been Price who’d snatched Gaz up, restraining his hands against his back while you watched in slight sympathy.

It had taken him only a few seconds to calm back down and figure out what the hell was happening, at which he sighed, giving Soap a regretful look.

“Sorry, don’t know what got into me.” He mumbled, and Johnny only stood up, brushing his knees off, and patted Kyle softly on the back.

“Don’t. I get it.” The Scotsman said, before walking out. When he glanced at you, it was the empathy for him that Kyle found most odd. The fact that you seemed to understand.

It was only weeks later that he understood why you could empathize with him over his actions.

Tags:

@yearninglustfully

@kazuyatokue

@kiwibao

@kurokitty6

#writers on tumblr #cod mwii #ghost cod #writing community #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #gaz #john price #captain price #simon ghost riley #soap x reader #soap call of duty #johnny x reader

186 notes · View notes

rouxkalamay · 3 months ago

Text

Random Angst Comfort for Azul

So just to clarify, I have never written fanfiction. I've written lots of fictional stories for myself but haven't really put myself out there much, BUT, I'm having a moment of extreme productivity today soooo screw it. What I'm about it write is really just a thought dump about comforting Azul but if y'all like it, I can do it for all the other boys in TWST. I'm in the process of writing a book, (not about Azul obviously, I don't have the insanity to handle a Disney Lawsuit 🤣), so I decided to shake things up a bit and figure out where I am when it comes to writing.

This fanfic is about comforting Azul after he transforms into his octomer form. Lots of angst in the beginning but it gets a lot better. It's anypov so any of y'all can read it. :)

Trigger Warnings: Angst, Eating Disorder, slight self harm, slight panic attack for Azul, maybe depression and I think that's it. I make it extremely fluffy romance at the end. Have a wonderful day y'all, you matter, your wonderful, all of y'all. :D

It had been hours since the potion had worn off. He thought he had taken such care, but with all the overblots in campus along with his duties at the Mostro Lounge, it had completely slipped his mind. He should have restocked. He should have double checked, it was all his fault. Stupid, stupid, STUPID octopus...

Every week, Azul had to take a potion to keep his land form. He marked it precisely on the calendar with purple ink that stained deep into the page. Any potential calories he gained from it were factored in, as he ate less on those days. He had been eating less overall now that he thought about it... Watching his control literally sifting through his fingers like hot sand... No remorse, no question of why... That blasted lion did it.

Azul shook his head slightly as his breathing picked up all over again, shaking his head slightly while his hands dug into the swirls of his silvery hair. Tentacles thrashed slightly in the bathtub he was in, clutching at random items out of anxiety or anger. He didn't know anymore. He couldn't even call Jade or Floyd for help because he was too deep in his head. Ever since that day, his overblot, his self image had been getting so much worse. And now, sitting alone in a bathtub with his thoughts, it was at its lowest point.

Azul's eyes gazed over his grey skin with discomfort, running his hands over the stretch marks from his childhood. He spent years changing his diet, exercising, counting every last calorie and stopping at 2000 just so he wasn't what they said he was. A slow stupid octopus. But he was still... Pudgy, just around the hips as it faded to a dark midnight purple. It wasn't enough, it was NEVER enough, not when he was like this.

Azul's hands grabbed the pudge around his hips as he glared at it with tears in his eyes, “Why...? Your not there when I'm human, you shouldn't be here now...” Azul grinds his teeth as his claws dug into his own skin slightly, close to properly hurting himself. His anger turned back into sorrow quickly however, burying his face in his hands once again.

“I'm in control, I'm in control, I'm in control, I'm-”

“Azul?”

Azul immediately jumped with his tentacles curling inwards instinctively at the intrusion. He thought he had locked the door when he ran in here hours ago, but apparently he missed that too. He spoke slightly panicked as this was the last thing he wanted, someone seeing him this vulnerable, behind the mask of extreme control, “Y/N... I'm afraid I'm a bit indisposed at the moment. This, you shouldn't be in here. This is my bathroom last I checked, and I won't have a unfortunate soul such as yourself intruding like this.”

Azul's voice turned cold and guarded while he grabbed a towel to cover his chest. Even though he was in his octomer form, he didn't like anyone seeing him like this, all grey rubbery skin that was surely unpleasant. And his tentacles, why, he didn't understand why you hadn't ran away yet. In truth however, he looked like he had been backed into a corner like a wounded animal...

Your gaze softened a bit as you approached him, “I'm sorry, the Leech twins wanted me to tell you that they were going out for the night to do some business. I decided to not ask for specifics... Are you alright...? You look... Well, not yourself.”

Azul scoffed slightly as one of his tentacles snatched another bottle of shampoo, “Of course not. My supply of merinhibitor potion ran out and I was too focused on everything going on with the Mostro Lounge and the overblots and the Headmage going on vacation leaving me to move around budget cuts and...”

Azul looked away, slightly embarrassed by his outburst. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I apologize. I know your the one who has been dealing with the chaos, even my own. Just... Just please leave. I can help myself.”

You crossed your arms as you spoke softly but sternly, "Azul, how many hours have you been sitting here and self-loathing about yourself.”

“Wha- I don't see how this is impor-”

You sighed once again, looking at him with concern, “So hours then. You've been sitting here for hours and didn't call anyone for help because your too proud to let yourself be vulnerable.”

Azul's eyes widened slightly, he couldn't believe the honest audacity of what had just been said. He was about to retort something but it died in his throat as you came closer. Your hand gently cupped the left side of his face as you spoke softly, wanting him to listen, "Listen to me. You are beautiful. Sure, there are mermaids and mermen with shiny scales and empty words but you? You are exotic... Your extraordinary... When I look at you, I don't see a slow octopus, I see a gorgeous siren that could drag me down to the deepest depths.”

Azul's mouth opened and closed a few times as he took a moment to process what he just heard. In all his life, the only people who had ever called him beautiful was his parents and grandmother, and that was when he was just a little fry. Azul's face flushed purple as he looked at you, trying to sound dismissive, “You really believe I'm that naive? What do you want from me? Nobody gives such lovely words with such accord for nothing.”

Your soft look fades into a bit of frustration at his distrust. It was a core part of him, always looking through everything he signed multiple times, always thinking about what others want from him. It certainly wouldn't be extinguished with some soft words and a simple touch. But then again, he was letting you stay, so it was a start.

You spoke softly once again as you started to play with one of the silvery curls of his hair, “Well... I want to make you happy and comfortable but... Since I know you won't believe me so easily, how about a little discount at the Mostro Lounge? In exchange for me comforting you and being kind, I get food. Deal?”

Azul raised an eyebrow as he scanned your face for any deception or plan. He only found honesty however, as he realized that you were only using food as an excuse. He smirked just a little, causing his tentacles to relax their hold on the many objects they had seized earlier in the tub, “Food you say? What makes you so sure that you can comfort me, hm?"

“Well your not crying or loathing anymore so that's a win in my book. We do need to get you out of this tub though...” You chuckled warmly as you gestured to his predicament, “You can breathe out of water right? I don't want you flopping like a fish.”

Azul softened a bit, looking down at his tentacles still squirming in the water below, “Yes, I can breathe. I will need some help however... I'd rather not make a mess of my bedroom floor.” Azul's gaze hardened once again, speaking with the same distrust from earlier, “You won't discuss this situation with anyone else... Will you?"

You smiled warmly as you started to help him out of the bath with some effort, “I won't tell, I promise. Besides, I don't want to end up in a ditch somewhere because of you sending the tweels after me. I'm not screwing with the mer-mafia you have going on.”

After a couple slips, tumbles, and falls, you managed to get Azul into his bed, which proved to be a... interesting sight. Tentacles grabbed the blankets greedily as Azul seemed to be in a lot better shape now. He looked so tired with the bags under his eyes. Ever since Crowley basically ditched NRC to go on vacation, he had been handling most of the budgeting and accounting work for the school. It was clearly putting lots of stress on the normally cunning octomer.

Placing some ointment on the nail marks on where his hips would be, you spoke softly, “You look wonderful. Your supposed to be a bit bigger around the hips. How else is the rest of your body going to fan out to make tentacles? It's apart of your biology. It literally holds in your organs. You don't need to change...”

Azul looked slightly annoyed as he sat back, letting you coddle him a bit. It wasn't often he had the luxury of someone helping him out of the goodness of their heart, “I can be better, I will be better. One day, I'll have enough influence to complete ruin those who have scorned me. Those mer... They crushed my self worth. Treated me like a plastic bag drifting into the infinite abyss. I will take their magic as collateral, and they will turn to me for their every need without a choice.”

Azul's eyes gleamed slightly in the low light, relishing in the thought of revenge against his former bullies. His tentacles tightened slightly on the covers, almost like when an octopus snatched it's prey from the sea floor. Shaking your head, you looked at him with a slight discouraging look, “And would this be legal or...?"

Azul smirked, placing his hand on his chest in mock offense, “Of course! I wouldn't dream of taking advantage of those poor souls, no matter how foolish they are. Indentured servitude if you will.”

You sighed, shaking your head, “I’d be discouraging if it weren't for the fact that those mer from your childhood were being racist. It's not my circus so you do what you want. Just try not to get in too much trouble.”

Azul just smiled, “I wouldn't possibly dream of it.”

The two of you stayed in a comforting silence for a while. With you patching him up and taking care of him, Azul started to relax more and more, having his tentacles relax beneath the covers. The purple and deep blues of the decor in his room were a calming lullaby, giving a sense of safety that curled around you both like a blanket. Azul tried his best not to let a tentacle grab your wrist to pull you closer. In all his years, he had been focused on control of others and himself, not on simple touches. It was... Nice.

Azul smiled a little more, but it was more tender this time, “Thank you. I mean it. You could have simply left me and... I'm not sure where I would be now. I suppose I get wrapped up in my mind on occasion.”

You smiled as you say up, putting the ointment away, “Hey, it happens to everyone. You just need to put all that energy into a healthy hobby. Like ... Like cooking. I hear from your employees all the time that you don't know how to cook.”

Azul chuckled slightly, “Yes, it's true. I wouldn't mind making a deal for you to teach me however...”

As you turned to leave, most likely giving him much needed privacy, Azul's relaxed demeanor changed. His eyes narrowed slightly as he used his tentacles to grab you firmly, but with a gentle undertone. Azul laughed slightly but there was an undertone of desperation underneath, “Did you really think I would let you go, angelfish? I believe we made an arrangement, you comfort me, and you get a discount. One of the clauses is that you stay right here with me tonight.”

Azul tucked you into bed with him as he smirked, pulling you close into a tentative hug. Azul didn't like being touched due to the unfamiliarity of it, but he was willing to make an exception just this once. Azul stayed mindful of his tentacles as he had them touch the covers rather than get tangled up in you. One of his tentacles wrapped around your waist however, not to pull you close, but to keep you right next to him.

Blushing, you tried to speak but Azul placed a hand gently against your lips, “Shh... Just... Just let me have this. Just for tonight. Or no discount for you, angelfish.” Azul smirked again but it still had that vulnerable undertone, like he was desperate for connection.

You sighed softly as you relaxed, deciding to get comfortable. You didn't have much of a choice with how he was holding you like a child with their teddy bear, “Alright but... Shouldn't we helping you with your perdictment?”

Azul chuckled as he buried his face in your neck, “As punctual as I am, those are tomorrow problems. I have a fantastic opportunity today.”

Azul's smile faded just a bit, speaking softly while he focused on the sound of your breathing, reassuring himself that you were still there, “Y/N... Please stay. I don't want to be alone right now... The silence would be... too loud for me.”

Your gaze softened as you traced the rubbery gray skin of his arm. He was cold, just how an octopus would be in the cool depths below. He wasn't just relying on you for body heat however, you were his rock. He didn't want to hear all the voices in his head, both past and present, that he wasn't enough. He just wanted to hear your voice... Telling him that he was enough, that he he didn't need to change, that... That he was beautiful.

You spoke softly as you rested your head on his chest, “I’m not going anywhere... I’m going to stay right here tonight. I promise.”

Azul looked down at you with a small smile, looking as if he was going to fall asleep right there, “I usually don’t believe promises. I prefer the fine print but... I can make an exception for you.”

Azul closed his eyes but didn't release his hold on you. The tentacle on your arm caressed your skin gently to reassure his subconscious mind that you were still there. After a few moments, you leaned up carefully to kiss him on the cheek gently, “Goodnight. Sweet dreams... My sea witch.”

After a while, your breathing evened out as you were asleep as well. It was only then that Azul opened his eyes to look at you again. One of his hands reached up to caress your cheek almost reverently as he began to think to himself again. You could have left him when he was almost at his worst, you could have never bothered to come to his room but you did. You did and you found him when he least wanted you to.

“But I ended up being greatful anyway...” He thought to himself. There was no self-loathing anymore, not really. Azul took your chin gently as he looked at your face, really looking at it almost for the first time. He started to smile as he remembered what you called him. “Your sea witch.”

He smiled more as his hands traced the contours of your face, commiting it to memory, “You foolish foolish angelfish... How am I supposed to let you go now...?”

His mind went to all your friends at NRC. Ace, Grim, Deuce, so many people who were so much more worthy of your time compared to him. And yet here you were, in his arms and in his arms only. Azul breathed in deeply, catching the scent that was so naturally you, and it was just for him in this moment.

Azul then realized that this may not happen again. This wonderful tender moment that he had never had before with anyone may never even come close to his grasp ever again. Looking down at you, it dawned on him that he needed more of this feeling. So much more. Your sea witch, that's what you called him. Sure, you may have said it in the thoughts that he could hear but you still did. It was ownership. Ownership...

Azul smiled, but it was a mix between tender and cunning this time as he kissed you on the forehead firmly, “I suppose I’m just going to have make you all mine then, angelfish... No, MY angelfish... My Y/N... All mine...”

Azul's mind raced with ideas of how he was he was going to get you to sign a contract, but for now, you were in his arms. And he was never going to let you go again, not if he had any say in it.

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

Yay! You made it to the end! This is the first time I've ever written in a “you” pov, I usually do first person or third person with proper names. I tried to make it for everyone by not saying anything about gender or body types so I tried my best. I have no idea if this was a good fanfic or not, it could be hot garbage and for that, I apologize. I tried to make it as not cringe as possible. 🤣

Thank you so much for reading this far and I hope you have a wonderful day! Stay safe! :D

#disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twistedwonderland #twst #azul ashengrotto #twst azul #azul x reader #twst fanfic #twst fandom #azul twst #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul ashengrotto twst #azul ashengrotto fanfic

62 notes · View notes

urloversdreamgrl · 1 year ago

Text

The Bear S3 and the Choices We Make

Ok. After a second watch of S3, I'm feeling a little bit more optimistic about the future. Trust - it's a sad ending. It's my worst nightmare for Sydney. But there's still hope, and that all lies in what Carmen and Syd decide to do next. Season 3 Spoilers - read at your own risk :)

In S3 E10 Forever, we see our two mains go through a breakthrough. Starting with Carmen, he finally confronts his former boss (who has a name, i think, but fuck him, I ain't using it). It's the first (and only time) that we see Carmen proactively voice his resentment. He avoids his mom (rightfully so imo). He never got the chance with Mikey. But he approaches him, expects the man to have repent (maybe), or at the very least, have a little remorse.

He doesn't. He regrets nothing. In fact, he takes credit for Carmen's success: his hard work, his skills, and his talent. He tells Carmen that he should be thanking him, and that's not even the worst of it. No, for me, it is when he says

Carmen: My life stopped. Chef: That's the point, right? [...] You wanted to be great. You wanted to be excellent. So you got rid of all the bullshit, and you concentrated, and you got focused, and you got great. You got excellent. It worked. You're here. Look at all this

Sound familiar? It should. It's the same sentiment that Carmen said in the Season 2 finale. Remember, he said,

I wasn't here. Right? What the fuck was I thinking? Like I was going to be in a relationship? I'm a fuckin' pyscho. That's why I'm good at what I do. That's how I operate. I am the best because I didn't have any of this fuckin' bullshit, right? I could focus, and I could concentrate.

Carmen's thoughts about himself aren't even his own. They were drilled into him by a man who wouldn't piss on him if he was on fire. He was emulating the abusive behaviors and patterns that crushed him, that gave him "uclers, panic attacks, and nightmares" on the people that he cares about. On his sister, on Richie, on Tina and Marcus. and especially on Sydney, who is the only one who knows exactly how bad it can get. He's hurt those closest to him. He hurts them daily. And for what? And for why? For his own ego.

And this realization leads us to Carmen's first cry.

For three whole seasons, we see this man lose his idolized brother to suicide, witness his alcoholic mother physically, emotionally, and mentally abuse him, and experience mental degradation to the point where it affects his physical health. Not once did he shed a tear. This is the first time Carmen Berzatto lets himself cry. And I think this is the best thing for him. If he chooses to acknowledge the err of his ways, turn back course, and begin again, I think The Bear could be what he wanted it to be. He needs to decide to stop running, stop fighting himself and everybody around him. He needs to let go. Let it rip, right?

However, if this is what he decides to do, the cards ultimately fall into Sydney's hands.

If anybody's been through hell and back, it's Ms. Sydney Adamu. All season she's been forced to work in a volatile environment, putting herself between Carmen and whoever's the victim of his anger. She has her ideas shut down, her skills demeaned, and her credit is outright non-existent. Staff keeps quitting; they're not making any money; and Cicero and Co. is doing some shady background shit.

She's trapped, but not really. Not until she signs that Partnership Agreement. But like she told her dad in S2 E9 Omelette, she doesn't think she has another one in her. She can't have The Bear fail like Sheridan Road. She doesn't want to make the same mistakes she did last time. She wants to grow and learn and make her mark on the industry - prove she's not a failure.

She's waiting for Carmen to make good on his promises from The Table Scene, but he's not.

"You deserve my full focus." But his focus is not on her. Remember the Carmen that noticed when something was off with her? Remember the "say more?" or the "what's up with you?" Remember when they worked together, when the menu was truly theirs? Where was Sydney's "margin" moment? What did Carmen do this scene that signaled to Sydney that he was there and present.

"I couldn't do this without you." He does everything without her. Don't even get me started. From the menu to the list of nonnegotiables. Syd gets to make no decisions after being forced to make ALL the decisions. What is she there for? To be Carm's wrangler, his doormat? What has he does to convince her that she is invaluable?

He's egotistical. He's verbally abusive. He's the exact person that she warned him not to be. That he assured her that he wouldn't be in S1 E3 Brigade. She said,

You know I think this place could be so different from all the other places we've been at. But, in order for that to be true, we need to run things different. [...] But you just didn't really listen, and if this is going to work the way I think we both want it to work, I think we should probably try to listen to each other. The reason why I'm here, and not somewhere else or for someone else, is because I think I can stand out here. I can make a difference here. We could share ideas. I could implement things that make this place better. And I don’t wanna be wasting my time, working on another line or tweezing herbs on a dish that I don’t care about.

He didn't follow through the first time, so she left. But now, it's different. She's put her blood, sweat, and tears into this place. She's made a place (a home even) at The Bear. Leaving is not as simple anymore.

S1 Syd would've taken that CDC offer in a heartbeat. But building something and it failing (like The Bear. like Sheridan Road.) is terrifying. Slowly but surely, Carmen has been chipping away at her confidence and her fire. So much so that good things, like The Offer or the review of her risotto from The Beef, don't feel like good things.

Sydney's Panic Attack is HUGE for her character. We see Sydney at her lowest: her most frightening and vulnerable. She's uncertain. She's in a constant state of panic. And the person that she trusted with her fears and insecurities facilitated this, drove her to this point. It's heartbreaking. I cried when I saw it. No one would blame her for jumping ship. At this point, I encourage it (but she has to talk about it, acknowledge it. no running).

Now, if Carmen decides to change his ways, he'd have apologized to Sydney twice without changed actions. She'd have to believe him after many, many broken promises. At this time, she doesn't trust him, can't rely on him. But when having to decide between staying or going, will she try to trust him again?

Will she? Should she?

That's where I'm at so far. I have more thoughts, but I'll write those out when I get back from my weekend trip.

#the bear #the bear fx #sydney adamu #carmen berzatto #the bear season 3 #the bear gifs #the bear spoilers #the bear meta #sydcarmy

236 notes · View notes

gayhoediaz · 1 year ago

Text

jell-o

(inspired by reply i left on one of @texasbama's posts)

T | 1k | also on ao3

“I feel like jello.”

The words follow a few long moments of silence as they struggle to catch their breath, panting as they stare up at the ceiling of Eddie’s dimly lit bedroom.

It’s a fairly normal thing to say after an orgasm like that - Buck could huff in amusement, say ‘Me too,’ except Eddie isn’t praising his skills in bed. His voice is not drenched in happiness and the wonder of afterglow - it sounds… thick. Buck can read Eddie like the back of his own hand, even without looking at him. Eddie is not sad - not at all. Although, he's certainly… emotional.

Buck swallows, keeping his eyes on the ceiling.

After he pulled out, they ended up falling onto their backs like two people on a sitcom after having off-screen sex, needing the space to cool their body temperatures down - but now he moves his hand, blindly reaching until it finds Eddie’s. Eddie immediately responds to the touch, lacing their fingers together.

Buck squeezes. Eddie squeezes back.

Buck wants to say something, but he doesn’t. It doesn’t feel as if it’s what Eddie needs right now. It feels as if he’s gathering up the courage to elaborate, himself. So Buck gives him the time he needs, waiting patiently.

Another few beats pass. Buck remains quiet - moves the pad of his thumb back and forth over the back of Eddie’s - soothing him.

“I, uh…” Eddie finally continues, trailing off to swallow, the click of his throat audible in the silence of the room. “I used to have to use that every time Marisol and I - I uh…” He stutters a little bit - which isn’t usually his thing, it tends to be Buck’s. “I - we-“ he stutters some more, his voice growing thicker.

Buck sighs, gently slipping his hand out of Eddie’s only to roll himself up onto his side, supporting himself on his elbow, eyes falling upon Eddie’s flushed face.

Sinking the hand into his hair, soothingly combing his fingers through the sweat-damp strands, he slips his other hand into Eddie’s instead, giving another reassuring squeeze.

Eddie’s eyes are closed, but the warm light of the bedside table lamp highlights the slight wetness collected around the corner of his eye. Buck leans down - just barely brushing his lips over the area. Eddie swallows again, squeezing his hand.

“With Shannon, things were… things were good, with Ana, I used to just… close my eyes. Wait for it to be over, you know, but with Marisol, I… I used to, uh… I had to use that.”

“You used to have panic attacks?” Buck can’t help but breathe, his chest aching. “With her?”

“No.” The word leaves Eddie’s mouth with a sad huff of amusement, as he finally opens his eyes, immediately finding Buck’s. “Almost,” he says, then. “Every time, I just… I used to repeat it, it was always this mantra in my head,” he says, bringing his free hand up to gesture towards his own temple. “Everything was okay. I wasn’t in danger. My legs were jello, my arms, my chest, my head, I was a giant…”

“…Eddie shaped jello mold,” Buck finishes softly. Eddie nods.

Buck swallows down the anger he feels at Marisol.

Rationally, he recognizes that she didn’t do anything wrong - likely didn’t have any idea whatsoever, because if there is one thing Eddie is good at, it’s compartmentalizing and pretending that everything is okay - especially when it comes to people that ultimately don't know him all that well.

Irrationally, however, the thought of her touching him when he didn’t enjoy it makes Buck want to vomit. So much so that he apparently makes a face he’s not aware of, because the corner of Eddie’s mouth twitches up of amusement, a huff leaving his nose as he reaches a hand across his own body, and up to fit his palm against the side of Buck’s face, thumb gently caressing his cheekbone.

Buck’s heart immediately calms down. He sighs, giving his other hand one last squeeze before he lets go, moving it to wrap around his wrist instead, nodding once to nuzzle his cheek deeper into his cupped palm.

“It was on me,” Eddie assures him. “I shouldn’t have forced myself to-“ he cuts himself off when Buck makes a slight huff in his throat. It may not have been her fault, but it wasn’t yours either, is what he wants to say - but instead, he nods, allowing Eddie to go on. “…anyway, I just - it… kept the panic at bay, but it didn’t really… work, you know? I didn’t feel…” he trails off again, shrugging best as he can while laying down. “Didn’t feel right, I never felt…”

“…like jello,” Buck hums.

“It helped - kept me from... panicking completely, but I never actually felt... like jello - not in those moments.”

“And jello is calm - relaxed,” Buck hums.

“Safe, yeah.”

“If you felt safe, you uh… you wouldn’t have to remind yourself you feel safe,” he says, briefly turning his head to press his lips to Eddie’s palm. Eddie hums, nodding. “But you’re jello now?” Buck asks, allowing a hint of lightheartedness to slip into his tone as he fits his cheek back into the palm of Eddie’s hand.

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie says, the slight twitch of his mouth melting into a full smile. “You didn’t see my legs shaking?”

At that, Buck barks out a laugh - loud enough that he has to tilt his head back, eyes briefly falling closed; Eddie’s own chuckles harmonize with his own - and when their eyes meet once again, Eddie’s smile has grown into a full grin, the previous red-flushed tone of his eyes nowhere to be seen.

“I did,” Buck assures him, leaning down to bring his lips closer to Eddie’s. “I did see that.”

“Think you can make it happen again?” Eddie teases, his hand slipping up past Buck’s cheek, fingers tangling themselves in his hair as Buck lets go of his wrist, reaching down and across Eddie’s body to find a grip on the outside of his thigh, pulling it over to lay over his own. A few warm, happy chuckles sound somewhere deep in Eddie’s throat, and Buck nods once, only to brush the tips of their noses together.

“Mhm,” he assures him. “And again.”

#niesfics #buck x eddie #fanfiction #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley

261 notes · View notes

theboardwalkbody · 3 months ago

Text

Haymitch as a lover dynamic post-SOTR thoughts

OK so I read THIS POST and I want to say YES EXACTLY THIS THANK YOU. Please def read that one to get context for the train of thought here. Likewise I also figured a rough lover (BEFORE reading SOTR). In a way of almost venting anger and trauma through love (not great, I know).

But I also wanted to add my additional takes (but didn't want to bog down their post so I just wanted to make it separate).

It doesn't spoil events in the book - just kinda like his attitude.

So yeah the way *I* see it:

He's so so so so afraid of letting the walls down. Like he said in the epilogue. He's not immune to love but he fears it (esp before the end of the trilogy). He's afraid to love because he sees it as a death sentence for whoever he loves. He'd have to allow himself to let his guard down and be vulnerable. This would scare the hell out of him.

He'd push it away. Any inkling he gets that someone might like him a little bit too much he'd start driving them away. Now if he realizes HE is developing feelings it would be 10x harder of a push. I can also see him hurting himself the second he realizes he's caring about someone that way (heavier drinking, more isolation). He would keep crossing lines and getting more aggressive in his attempts to drive away the longer the person(s) hold on.

I really can't see him allowing to let his guard down until after the rebellion. I think that at the point of the epilogue it still seems fairly recent after and he's still learning to relax and be vulnerable. But maybe it's possible. It's going to take WORK. And it's not going to be linear. He might seem like he's letting the walls down one day only to build them back up the next. It's hard and he's got so much trauma to deal with.

He's always going to love LD and whoever he winds up with absolutely needs to understand that there's a piece of his heart that will always love her.

When he gets to the point of being open with someone I can see it as a dam burst. A lot is going to happen for him emotionally all at once. He's going to be flooded with the love, the relief, the happiness, the fear, the grief, the frustration, and he's going to have to fight his trauma response of running away. I can absolutely see that flood becoming more of an actual panic attack.

As for opening up with someone for the first time in a sexual manner.... Absolutely petrified. It's extremely intimate. It's extremely vulnerable. It takes a lot of trust and there needs to be a sense of security. I imagine a few failed attempts at it where he just fully backs out of it completely. Then when he does I still imagine for a while he's going to be so uncertain and shaky and need a lot of reassurance. For the love of god, do not leave this man immediately after the act is finished. Oh add in the fact that his scars would be visible. They were made into a spectacle after he won and they're also a harsh reminder of the pain and the games and I really feel he would have some body image / self esteem issues related to it.

He's going to be protective as hell but it's more paranoia than possessive. He wakes up one morning and they're not home and he's going to panic thinking they were taken from him. They go out and take too long getting back he's panicking. He's not scared of loosing his person to other lovers. He's scared of them loosing their lives. And this isn't likely to result in him having open panic attacks and crying or being clingy. He's not delt with his emotions properly over the years. He's still drinking (and even if in any fic he would be in recovery or working towards it - it takes a while) and we've seen he can get a little volatile. He would panic and that panic would manifest as anger and he'd likely lash out. Even if not physically he might do it verbally. His person doesn't show up = he's afraid they've been killed simply for being involved with him = he's angry with himself for letting things get this far and feels responsible = he's lashing out at himself and feels the need to punish himself = when his person comes back even though they're ok he's still dealing with the guilt and fear and is self-sabotaging himself as a mean of punishing himself by pushing his person away by lashing out at them. That sort of cycle. It's not because he wants them to go its because he's trying to punish himself and also thinks his person is safer without him. It's going to be a long road to undo that thought process.

Loving and being loved is going to be hard for him at first. No whirlwind romances - it's going to be a delicate and long road.

I really want to write this kind of fic but it would have to be multi-chapter and IDK if I can manage that ATM.

#haymitch abernathy #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch abernathy fic #im in the middle of orientation for my new RN position and so if this is not coherent i apologize i have a short break lol

52 notes · View notes

jasntodds · 11 months ago

Text

Penace [5]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader

Words: 13,401

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, a little bit of angst, some fluff, mentions of death, panic attack (jason), ptsd (jason), hurt/comfort, mention of scars

Summary: ❝Thesus: Stop. Give me your hand. I am your friend. Herakles: I fear to stain your clothes with blood. Thesus: Stain them. I don’t care.❞

It’s been a month and a half since Crane’s reign of terror was stopped, leaving Gotham to finally return to normal. But, what is normal? After everything Jason and you have been through, it seems normal might be some unobtainable dream state. But that’s not going to stop either of you from trying and maybe, you’ll get lucky in the end. At the end of it, the two of you have suffered enough, right?

Right?

A/N: I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to update!! I had a bunch of stuff going on last month and stuff happened and I just did not have the mental capacity to edit this chapter. I'm so sorry!! You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

The next morning rolls around leaving Jason to wake up first. You're still sound asleep facing him, some of your hair covering your face. Jason takes a tentative finger and moves some of the strands from your face. He takes this time to exist. Sleep always came easier when you were around. Less nightmares, not as much tossing and turning, no insomnia. It was always easier with you around and last night was no different.

You fell asleep first just as you usually did when he read to you. You were cuddled into his side and it felt like it always did for that half hour. Just the two of you in bed together with a book and enough trauma for the both of you. Jason thinks you're both really good at being able to exist in a moment as if nothing happened. There's something in you that allows you both to ignore it all even for a few minutes and just pretend to be who you were before instead of just skin and bones.

The world, people, expect you both to be something specific, to act a certain way. You told him once, in a sort of one-off conversation, you felt like people expected something different. At the tower, you always felt like the others expected you to remain quiet or be angry all the time, to snap at some point. Maybe you did. But, your blood was never filled with anger but grief for what you should have been able to have. When Jason died and you got angry, they expected the silence. They expected the grief to hit you like a train. They expected you to quit, get revenge on the Joker before Bruce did. They expected more than rage-filled blood and red-stained hands. And they expected you to move on because what else was there to do? He was dead. And you were alone. People put up expectations and in some ways you feel like you need to meet some of them. Be more careful, get angry, snap, pretend like it's all fine because it's always been fine. But, then you lay down with Jason and you can watch movies and talk about your mom and you can exist in a way that you want without the weight of expectations collapsing your lungs.

Everyone thinks Jason is angry, always has even before he died. He was never angry. He was upset and hurt and didn't know where to put it. He was never angry but everyone expected him to be so he played into it. They expected him to be some sort of fuck boy so he played into it. They expected him to be reckless and so he was. Maybe he was always a little reckless, no one forced him to rob the Batmobile or go with the red hoods when he was a teenager. But they expect it. And now...Jason can feel it. They expect him to lose his mind and until then, they expect him to be fine. He lived, right? Joker is dead, Bruce avenged his death, and he was brought back. He should be fine, right?

They expect him to be fine without ever considering the scars lingering on his chest or marking up his mind like scuffed up wood. But with you, there are no expectations. He is allowed to read and tell you about theater stuff. He is allowed to have nightmares and be scared. He is allowed to just be. When Jason is around you, he's allowed to exist in a way that he wants without the weight of expectations strangling the life out of him.

Maybe that's why you can exist in moments like these as if nothing ever happened. It is the only time neither of you are facing some false hope of expectations. It is the only time you both can be damaged in all your glory. It is the only time you're allowed to bear your scars with pride and show the beauty they've left behind. You can just...be.

He eyes you softly, brows pinched together and you look so peaceful. He wants nothing more than to pull you into him and sleep like this all day. But it is not his place. He's surprised you stayed in the first place let alone stayed in bed with him. He is so glad you did but there is so much you haven't talked about. So much happened and there's just so much between you. He wonders if you'll ever be able to recover or if this is all you'll be. Just a one-off sleepover sometimes.

He doesn't like that idea very much.

Jason forces himself to get out of bed and make his way to the training area where he keeps his fridge. He expects to be able to grab a few eggs and make an omelet, see what else he has and maybe he could make you (and Tim) pancakes. But, as he enters the room, Tim is seated at the table with a tablet open and his brows pinched together.

"Oh, hey." Tim chimes, offering Jason a wave and a glance before he looks back to the tablet. "I made toast and a pot of coffee." Tim explains.

Jason scratches his head before he shakes it and fully enters the room. "Right, yeah, okay." Jason clears his throat, trying to get rid of the sleep still etched in his tone. "Did you even fucking sleep?"

"Yeah, of course." Tim brushes the question, voice still chipper and a part of it reminds Jason of how Gar usually was at the tower. "Early riser."

"A roof fell on top of you last night." Jason states as he walks over to the coffee pot seeing about a quarter of a cup left. He lets out a sigh before he dumps the pot in the sink and starts a fresh pot.

"Oh, yeah but I'm fine." Tim shakes it off.

Jason can almost hear your voice in his head telling him to push for an answer. A roof fell on top of him and his boyfriend is in a coma. Jason does not buy for a single second that he's simply an early riser. No one is an early riser with this job, not if you want more than three hours of sleep a night. It would be responsible of him to ask Tim if he were okay.

"Seriously, you alright?" Jason asks as he leans against the table to face Tim.

Tim looks up at him and while he knew some of Jason before, this is different. The most of Jason he knows is actually Red Hood related. You didn't talk a lot about him when you hung out and he only spoke to Jason a handful of times, usually about his order at Excellent Gotham. There wasn't much said about Bruce Wayne's newest son. Instead, he knows Red Hood is ruthless, brutal, and scary. He is intimidating and will kill someone if need be. He knows Red Hood almost got his dad killed and almost got you killed and got Dick killed. His association with Crane got him killed. Tim knows Red Hood is someone he wants on his side because if he's not, that could be for the worst.

But, he's looking at Jason Todd who happens to be Red Hood and in this moment he doesn't feel like any of those things. He feels like he did when you introduced him. Normal. Calm. Nice. Tim knew there was more to Red Hood. Not only did he meet Jason and he trusts your general opinion of people, but Tim doesn't believe anyone is as two-dimensional as they may seem. Yet, some part of him almost feels surprised with Jason asking if he's okay but it doesn't feel like it's out of obligation. Instead, it feels like he might actually be genuinely concerned.

"Yeah, no, I'm fine." Tim answers. "Just..." Tim lets out a breath. "Gar said they haven't made any progress with Bernard. And I'm here..." Tim trails off. "Almost getting crushed by a roof and getting trained by you and y/n."

Jason pushes off the table as the coffee pot dings. "You've only been here like two days." Jason states as he makes his way back over to the coffee. "How'd it happen?" Jason asks as he starts to pour himself a cup, making sure to leave enough for you.

"Some video game thing that Brother Blood released." Tim groans. "No one knows how to get anyone out of their comas."

"Look," Jason starts as he walks back over to Tim. "That fucking sucks, alright? But, you and the Titans will figure it out. You're a genius, man." Jason lets out this scoff that comes out as a chuckle. "The way I see it, all those people and Bernard are lucky to have you looking out for 'em."

"Yeah, except I suck at this." Tim lets out a groan, tilting his head back. "I mean, Dick was...incredible. He was so good at this whole thing and he still is. And then you took over and you were just as great." Tim pauses for a few seconds as Jason watches the defeat start to wash over his features. "How am I supposed to live up to that when I can't even get any intel on this guy? When I can't even figure out a damn video game?!"

"Didn't you choose to be Robin?" Jason asks.

"Yeah but y/n said—"

"I died as Robin." Jason cuts him off because it doesn't matter what you said or didn't say. Jason knows Tim is going to be great at this. "Don't take what she says to heart too much. Her viewpoint of Robin will always be tainted because I died. Because it involved Bruce. You chose this, man." Jason points a finger at him. "No one else is crazy enough to do that, not after me. But you did. That means something. Don't get in your head about it, alright? You're smart as fuck and you're capable."

"But what if I was wrong?" Tim asks knowing it takes a special kind of confidence to not only volunteer to be Robin following Dick and Jason but to have the confidence he could do it.

"Dick wouldn't have asked you to be Robin if he thought you were." Jason says it so simply. "We were trained by Bruce for months before we put on the mask and cape, just remember that." Jason states as he takes a sip of his coffee.

"Thank you." Tim offers a soft smile. "Didn't think you'd be the pep talk kind of guy."

"I'm not." Jason lets out a booming cackle. "So don't go telling people I am."

Tim lets out a soft laugh before he locks the tablet. "She still sleeping?" He decides not to push his luck and changes subject, surprised not to see Sam yet.

Jason nods softly. "Yeah, letting her sleep."

"She doesn't sleep a lot, that's what Gar said...that Molly said."

"Yeah..." Jason pulls in a breath as his heart starts to break. "Comes with the job sometimes." Jason only half-lies.

"She's sleeping now." Tim gains a cheeky smile.

"Shut up." Jason groans and he not getting into any of that with Tim. Nope. "Did you want something more than toast?" Jason immediately changes subject before Tim can try to return the pep talk favor for relationship advice. "Toast is a shit breakfast." Jason puts his Wonder Woman mug down before he gets up.

Tim offers a chuckle. "Uh...yeah, I could eat something else."

Jason looks through some cabinets and the fridge. "Omelet or pancakes?"

"Omelet?" Tim questions softly. "Didn't think I'd have an option." Tim did not thnk Jason could really cook, given the whole eggs, beer, and cheese comment.

"Was making both anyway." Jason retorts. He's just trying to be nice.

Tim lets out a laugh. "Oh, I get it."

"If you don't shut up, we won't train today." Jason almost wants to shut his head in the fridge door with his comment. Who the fuck is he? Dick? Gar? Ugh.

Meanwhile, you're finally stirring awake to an empty and cold bed. Your hand reaches over and you feel the spot where Jason was is cold. Your eyes peek open to see he's no longer there or even in the room. It's not that you should have expected him to be you think but there's a part of you that's still disappointed. Somewhere in your head you almost hoped you'd wake up together and you'd have one of your awkward realizations together. You'd stumble over yourselves and your words but it'd feel like home. It'd be warm and comfortable anyway. And then you'd find your footing where it almost felt safest, in the mix of bantering and flirting. But, he's gone. You're not sure that feeling is something you'd ever be able to get used to.

But, you get up anyway, stretching before you get out of bed. You grab one of Jason's hoodies from the table, tugging it over your head as you walk out of the room. You head to the room with the fridge that you're not sure you should really call a kitchen since there's all the training equipment in there, too. Why is he like this?

As you get closer, you hear Jason's laughter bouncing off the walls. Your heart skips a beat and you don't even notice the way the corners of your mouth perk up into a tender smile. You pause just to listen for a few seconds while his laughter subsides and he goes on with his story. He tells Tim some story about a fight with the Riddler and how mad he was. You've heard the story before but hearing him talk so casually and lightly about his Robin days makes you want to burst.

In the few times you've talked of Robin, there's been a sense of bitterness and sadness surrounding the mantle but now he's laughing and joking. He has stories that aren't tied with grief and pain. Robin always meant the entire world to him and you're so happy he seems to still have some of that joy telling the stories. You think maybe he is getting better. Maybe Leslie really is helping him again.

"Welcome back to the land of the living." Jason quips as you walk into the room.

You clear your throat sarcastically. "Get fucked."

Jason flips you off with a tender smile while Tim lets out a laugh.

"Guess I won't make you pancakes then." Jason shrugs dramatically and you know it's a hollow threat but it is also not a chance you're willing to take.

Your eyes narrow slightly before a smile comes to your lips again. "Do not get fucked."

Jason tilts his head and lets out a laugh. "Dunno, think it'll help?"

You shake your head. "You are a bit uptight."

"Look who's fucking talking." Jason waves the spatula at her.

"I am so not uptight." You laugh as you take a seat beside Tim.

"Well." Tim adds in with a shake of his head and the scrunch of his nose.

"The fuck does that mean, Tim?" Your eyes widen at him.

Tim's eyes widen slightly back at her before he quickly looks to Jason. He might help him with Robin but if he wants to go back and forth with you on this front, that's all him. Jason will let him sink. He knows exactly which side he should always be on and it's wherever you are.

"You're on your own." Jason chimes, waving a spatula in the air as he turns back to the stove, the first batch of pancakes already on the burner.

"Nothing." Tim shakes his head with a smile.

"Right." You laugh softly as you roll your eyes.

Jason walks over with a mug in hand. He hands it off to you and your brows quickly raise seeing it's your Supergirl mug from the manor. You packed and moved but forgot the mug. While things aren't...bad per se, between you and Bruce, you did not go back for anything you forgot and you almost laugh. You may not have gone back but clearly Jason at the very least took your mug, likely with the intention to give it to Molly to give to you.

"Thank you." You hold your mug up to him as he goes to walk away.

"You're welcome." Jason gives you a bright and cheeky smile.

"So, what're we going today?" You ask the boys while Jason finishes breakfast.

"I really got to find this Venta guy and get back." Tim states.

"Figure we'll eat, train a bit, then help Tim here try to get some intel." Jason explains, finishing the pancakes before he moves onto the omelets.

"Sounds good." You suck in a breath, pulling out your phone to send a quick text to Molly to let her know you're awake and what the plan is.

Jason finishes up your breakfast before joining you and Tim at the table with three plates in hand, a delicate balancing act on his way. Tim offers a quick thank you before digging in, the toast clearly not holding him over too well. You offer Jason a tender smile before you dig in. Your chest warms and your skin bursts with goosebumps knowing Jason made pancakes for you.

Jason offers such a specific type of subtle kindness that seems to be overlooked by a lot of people. It's not so much in his words which after all this time, you figured out it's just because he's not too good at expressing himself most of the time. For him, actions say everything that gets caught in his throat. And it's not just with you he does it with. Bruce preferred his omelet differently and Jason never even asked, he always just made an extra one with the things Bruce liked. Gar mentioned he was looking for a few Saga comics and Jason found them and shipped them to Titans tower just because he could. He always offers to help Molly with anything she's working on. He extends his kindness with actions just to display how much he cares about the people who offer him the same kindness.

You think it's one of your favorite things about him.

The three of you finish up your food and get changed for training. The three of you take your time stretching and getting ready to allow your food to settle a little. Training starts just as it did yesterday, Jason taking the first round and then you. Tim still doesn't stand a chance but you and Jason can already see some improvement the longer you train which comes as a big relief.

After training, the three of you get suited up and head out, deciding to go to the marina this time. Tim rides with you, hoping to find something out tonight. He feels like he's running out of time. Meanwhile, you and Jason are looking to see how he does not in a training room with a safety net. A roof fell on him last night and he seems incredibly unbothered. To you, it only feels right to have him out on the streets anyway, even if it's under false pretenses. So, while you're "looking" for Venta or trying to get intel on him, you're also patrolling, showing Tim the ropes, teaching him the art of grappling between buildings. This is all just more training, making sure he'll be safe out there in the open without the security blanket of you and Jason or the Titans or being in one location. Jason and you think Tim will be just fine. He's smart and capable, he pays attention. This is not a game to him.

It matters.

It always mattered to Dick and Jason, too but it's different with Tim. Bruce offered Robin to Dick and Jason. They were his sons. Batman and Robin. They had months and months of training and while it was hard and brutal at times, there was something that felt magical about the whole thing. It felt surreal. With Tim, it's as if he feels he is obligated to fill the role. Unlike Dick and Jason, Tim chose it and there's somehow more pressure in that for him to prove himself. Tim is generally someone who can focus on things that are important and serious, but this is different. It is his life. It's the life of innocent people. He's having fun, sure, but he's taking it even more seriously than Jason and Dick ever did. It doesn't help he's trying to fill their shoes, something Jason does understand.

After hours of looking and patrolling, you don't turn anything up and head back to Jason's. Tim is incredibly disappointed by his inability to find anything out but you and you assure him that if Venta were in town or if anyone knew anything, they would have spilled with the two of you being around anyway. Between the three of you, someone would have told you some sort of information. You both remind him how easy it was to get information from the people you did question about other cases. Some people are harder but getting intel on one person rarely ever results in no answers. The reassurance does make Tim feel a little bit better about it.

While Tim is feeling a bit better and you're confident in his abilities, feeling pretty good actually, the case is not the same for Jason. Some days are just better than others and today is not one of those days. Waking up with you was refreshing but he's finding that to be the best part of his day because Tim put on the Robin suit. Jason isn't mad or bitter about it. It has nothing to do with it but something about it is causing him anxiety. Something about seeing Tim in the suit, or maybe just another rendition of the suit, makes him want to explode and run and cry and scream. He's been biting it down all day because it's his problem not Tim's. He hates it but something about it is pulling him back to Amusement Mile. Something about it is pulling him back to the anti-fear drug and Cran'e reign. Something about it is making him feel so small and useless. He thought he was making progress but you're back at his home and he's never felt so disconnected from everything. He thinks it's so dumb to feel upset and panicky over this.

He swears it's fine.

"I'm gonna shower." Jason clears his throat before excusing himself to head off to his bedroom as quickly as he can, trying not to raise any alarms.

Your eyes linger on the doorway. Jason might as well have run out of the door with how quickly he excused himself. You heard a slight tremble in his voice. It was sharper than usual and his steps weren't as light as they usually are.

"Is he okay?" Tim asks as he walks over to grab the suitcase for his suit.

You look back at Tim and nod once. During your patrol, you could tell something switched. Jason's been in a good mood and pretty casual about everything, generally speaking. Being in a good mood and things going well always seemed to poke a hole into his head a bit. And today, out there doing your thing, he was quieter, more focused. He's always focused but this was laserlike almost and you're supposed to be helping Tim. You'd make some sort of quip and all you'd get is a disguised chuckle from behind his helmet. If you know anything, it's knowing Jason Todd is in fact, not fine.

"Yeah, no I'm sure he's fine." You brush it off, figuring you'll check on him in a few minutes. "I kept him up pretty late so he's just tired, probably." You nod again, Tim not buying any of it.

"He was up before you were." Tim states as he walks back over to you with his case. "It's not my business, just..." Tim shrugs dramatically, showing genuine concern for Jason's well-being.

Your eyes go to your boots and then back to him. "Yeah, uh...yeah." You nod your head. "I'll check on him in a few minutes. I'm sure he's fine, Tim." You offer him a fake smile.

Jason's head is spinning while his arms are practically vibrating themselves from his body. His muscles are going so weak he can barely turn the water on for a shower. The air is thick and stale through his lungs, burning with every breath. His stomach twists and his eyes start to water despite his best efforts to stop it. The world around him starts to feel like it's closing in and suffocating the life from his lungs. The shower pelts the porcelain flooring, he swears he can hear you and Tim talking and walking from down the hall. His heartbeat is radiating through his ear canals and the passing cars sound like they might drive right through his new home. Everything is growing louder and louder and the thoughts start to kick in. They take a battering ram to the walls and that's when he can't even bear to stand anymore.

Jason carries the heartbreak of death on his shoulders and it is crushing every part of him.

Tim leaves you to go change and you follow his lead, heading for a bathroom. You take your time, giving Jason enough time to gather himself if he needs to before you go to check on him. And for a second, you almost even second-guess it. You haven't spoken in a month and a half, you're just now trying this whole friend thing, is it really your place? When Tim leaves, will you just go back to not talking with no obligation in the middle of you? What if you're wrong anyway? Maybe Jason has changed a little bit in this time and maybe he was just more focused because a roof fell on all of you yesterday. You run yourself in circles, not wanting to overstep and mind his space. Jason always liked his personal space, maybe a little too much but you don't want to intrude. You always felt like you were just intruding in people's lives, a mismatched puzzle piece trying to make yourself fit. It's not what you want to do to him.

Being around him was one of the only places you felt like you belonged. And Jason was the one that always made you feel that way.

You make your way to Jason's room once you're in your regular clothes because you can't bear not to check on him. He would do it for you and you know him. Despite it all, you're certain you always know when something isn't quite right with him. So, you make your way to his room and let yourself inside, shutting the door behind you.

You can hear the shower echoing from the en suite bathroom. The door is closed but you're relieved that he's in the shower and not losing his entire mind in his bed. You look around his room some more and you wonder what else he plans to do with it. You think it must feel more like a home than the manor did. Back at the Tower, he had some stuff on the walls that he picked up because the room was his. He graffitied the walls. It was his and it felt like his. But, the room in the manor still had a poster of the Flying Graysons. Jason didn't decorate the walls, something that always made you sad because it should have felt like a home to him. You never asked but you wondered why it didn't. It couldn't have just been Bruce because of how Jason views him. So, you wonder if it was because maybe he didn't think he deserved the manor or maybe it was that he felt like a replacement and someone else would come in to replace him anyway. Maybe it was a safety precaution for his own feelings of being left behind. You aren't sure but you hope this place feels like a home and he gets to decorate his walls.

The shower is still echoing through the door but you can hear the water clearly, no disturbance or movement. Your brows pull together as you make your way to the bathroom and knock softly. You don't get any answer and you don't hear any movement behind the door.

"Jay?" You ask as you knock louder this time. A lump forms in your throat while your heartbeat starts to spike. Your stomach burns and your teeth grit together. You remember the day on the roof. "Jason, are you okay?" You call again and don't get anything in response.

Your hand goes to the door handle and you pause for a second. And it's just a second before you open the door slowly. You carefully peek your head around the door, your eyes landing on the walk-in shower. The frosted glass door is open while water ricochets onto the white tile floor. And then there's Jason. He's seated, fully clothed in the shower, his knees are tugged to his chest while his arms are wrapped entirely around his shins. His head is buried in his knees and all you can do is shake your head in devastation.

You walk inside and close the distance between you. You keep your stance from outside of the shower, trying to mind his personal space.

"Jay?" You try again and you get nothing from him. It's as if he doesn't even register you in the room which might be one of the biggest red flags when it comes to Jason Todd. He is nothing but on guard.

You walk back to the door and shut it, just in case. Then you kick off your shoes and tug your hoodie off your head before you close the distance between you again. This time, you enter the shower, immediately getting pelted by warm water as you kneel down right in front of him.

"Jay, hey." You call his name again but this time, your hands are delicate and careful as you put them on his cheeks. He jumps immediately, head hooting up with eyes terrified and red. He looks panicked for just a few seconds until his brain catches up with what he's seeing. Your teeth grind together seeing the look of pain across his face. It's written in every line and feature you'd fallen so in love with over the last year. Your hands come to his cheeks again, just as tender as they were before and he doesn't even flinch this time. "What's going on?" You ask softly. Jason shakes his head against your hands and his eyes dodge yours and he feels embarrassed and exposed. Of course, you'd find him.

You always find him.

You always see him.

"It's you and me." Your voice is careful as your thumbs run over his skin. "I'm worried about you. What happened?" You brush the white streak of hair from his face.

"Loud." Jason's voice comes out hoarse and small and his bottom lip trembles. It takes every muscle in his body not to let out a sob.

"Okay." You nod your head once, the look of worry almost permanently etched into your features. If Jason had the strength, he'd push you away just to get you to stop worrying so much. He doesn't deserve it. You don't deserve it. "What happened?" You ask quietly, the water now completely soaking your hair.

Jason offers the weakest shrug you have ever seen. "Don't know." Why do you want to help him? Can't you see the monster he's become? His lip starts to tremble again as he tries to get a breath in but the tears are coming back and he can't breathe out of his nose. The water is dripping into his mouth and he almost thinks it'd be easier to just drown right here.

Not a day goes by that you aren't worried about him. It doesn't matter if you haven't spoken. It wouldn't matter if you hated him, as if that were even possible. You'd worry about him because Jason Todd has done everything to be enough. He has done everything to be happy and somehow, he's still the one sitting in a shower in tears because the world around him is suffocating. Yes, the whole Robin thing was worrisome. The whole Red Hood thing is worrisome. He gets shot out for fun. He taunts people because he thinks it's fun. Someone else is going to kill him one day, that much is certain. And while that is worrisome, you've also seen the damage people he loves have caused him. It doesn't have to be physical damage because Jason's own brain wants to torture him and it uses everyone else's words as some sort of infinite ammo. The vigilante thing is worrisome, but where Jason's head is, that's the real thing that's worrying.

It wouldn't matter if you hated each other, you would rip every false and cruel thought that ever crosses his mind.

You let go of his face and move your hands to his. You're careful, lightly pulling his hands apart and away from his legs. Once his legs are free, you move to the side and lightly press on his knees until his legs are stretched out in front of him. The whole thing is making Jason watch you with careful eyes and it's almost a distraction and then you climb on top of him. You straddle his lap, Jason's eyes never leaving you and it almost causes him more panicky. He might know you better than he knows himself, but he very rarely knows what you'll do in moments like these. But then, you don't say anything. All you do is wrap your arms around his neck and pull him for a hug.

Jason tenses up just as he's done before but after a few seconds, a part of him relaxes against you. He gathers a full breath into his lungs and it's as if he's giving his body permission to lose it all again, in the comfort of you. His arms wrap around your middle and his grip is so tight as he lets out a sob, you can't breathe. You think you'd suffocate if it allowed him any type of relief.

It is all just too much. The weight on his chest is too heavy and he doesn't think he can carry it. He goes out and he murders people. They may be very bad people but it's what he does and he thinks about how Bruce is so mad about it. He tries to be understanding but they will never come to an understanding over it. It will be a matter of time before Jason ends up an enemy to Batman and by default, an enemy to Bruce. What makes what Jason is doing different than what the Joker did to him? To Jason, Batman and Robin were the Joker's enemies, right? And he took care of a problem, the same way Jason is taking care of problems. Jason might not be the instigator in it, but he's doing the same crime. Was Bruce right about it? Is he any different than the Joker?

Most days, it is a thing that he lives with. It's for the greater good and his soul is already damaged, it's already the property of something that isn't quite him anymore. It's always just waiting in an in-between for his second round at death. He does it so other people won't have to. He does it so other people won't feel like him or you or Bruce or Dick or Molly or any of them. He does it to help because people get forgotten. That's what he tells himself but right now, he can't quite figure out if that's really the right thing. He doesn't know what else he's supposed to do. If this isn't supposed to be the answer, then what is? What if it isn't and he can't come back from it anyway? His hands are already stained with so much blood.

And because of that, he falls back into his routine way of thinking. He is damaged. He is broken and scarred, physically and mentally now. Everything around him crumbles at his feet. He tries so fucking hard to be something that's easy to swallow and digest but he fucks that up, too because no one really expects him to be like that. He breaks everyone around him and all he does is hurt people. They try to offer him love and kindness and he bites through it like a rabid coyote. He is undeserving. Someone who is deserving doesn't push and they don't hurt people for being kind. They don't destroy people. That's all he has ever done.

And then he fucking died. It might have been scary and traumatizing but there was a moment, right before everything went dark where he accepted his fate. That would be it. No one else would have to suffer for his mistakes. He was going to die and some people might be sad for a little bit, but they would move on. And he wouldn't fuck up their lives anymore. And he wouldn't suffer anymore.

The ache in his bones would be gone and the voice would be quiet. All of the pain he's dealt with would just be...gone. He would take his last breath, and that would be it. He has hurt for so long that there was a moment where he accepted his fate, that it might just be better and easier this way. He did not want to die and he wishes he were able to have put up a fight but in that single second, he accepted it.

That feeling lingers with him today. He accepted it and as brought back. The reaper won't leave him alone, tugging at his lungs and his bones. It's not forceful, just a casual reminder of what's waiting for him one day. It's a feeling in his stomach that feels like the start of an ulcer. Just there, waiting for the right moment. And he saw the look Dick gave him when he saw Red Hood was Jaosn. He did not seem happy. You were at first pissed about it. No one really seemed too happy at first when he came back. He interrupted your grieving process and then interrupted everything else. He dies with the ache in his bones and the guilt because he has no choice but he swears he won't do this again.

He put a bomb in his helmet as a failsafe.

You pull his thoughts back to you as you press a kiss to his temple. "You're gonna be okay, Jay."

"I'm not!" Jason yells through a whine as he pulls away, his eyes on you. His chest is heaving as he pants for some sort of air. "I'm never gonna be fucking fine."

Why does the world treat him so cruelly? Can't it see that he is good? Can't it see that he has always been enough? Can't it see that Jason Todd has been through enough? He has suffered enough. You would fight the universe with your bare fucking hands if that's what it took for it to understand that he is done suffering.

"You will be." You nod your head at him as your hands come to the side of his neck. Your thumbs trace his jawline. "And you don't have to do this shit alone." You urge. "I told you, if I'm alive then you are never alone and I mean it. I don't care." You shrug harshly. "It's gonna be okay." You want to kiss him until he believes you. You want to kiss all of his hurt away, scare it away so far away that it never comes back. You want to kiss him as hard as you can so maybe he'll believe, once more, that he is worthy and he's gonna be okay and he is never fucking alone if you're breathing.

"I-I just want to stop." His voice has never sounded so defeated as he rests his head against your chest.

"I know." You whisper, your hand moving to the back of his head as you run your hand through the wet strands of black hair. "It will, you just gotta give it some time, Jay." Your voice is steady and calm, disguising the pain in your chest. "You've been through a lot."

Jason picks his head up, his green eyes are dark and miserable. Completely broken. "I died." Jason chokes out.

"Yeah." You nod once as Jason watches something devastating rip through your eyes. "Someone should have been there to protect you." You wish it would have been you. It should have been you to protect him.

Jason shakes his head and he lets out this chuckle that almost falls into another sob. "Maybe I was better off dead." He says it in one breath, all flat and sincere. "Look what I've become."

"No." You say sternly because he doesn't get to do this to himself again. He has prevented you from this exact spiral more times than you can count and he doesn't even know it. It's your job to make sure you repay the favor that was never really a favor. "You deserve to be alive." Jason catches a subtle break in your tone. "You became something that everyone was too fucking cowardly to become. You save people." You nod firmly. "Do you know how many people you've saved as Red Hood?" You ask.

"Not fucking many." Jason lets out a huff.

"Three hundred and two." You answer right back.

Jason's eyes widen and he is so certain you're making that up. "What?"

"Three hundred and two." You repeat. "There was a domino effect, too. I didn't actually count that because it would be like... impossible but I did account for some of them. A guy was gonna blow blow up the museum but you stopped him the day before he had a chance. So, you saved every person that would have been there. You've stolen how many guns from Black Mask? I mean just think of how many people you saved because you took those guns? Domino effect. Of course, there was the apartment fire last week which I don't know, Jay. You're not a firefighter but you still went into it and saved a whole family then went back and saved their cat."

Jason's eyes burn and sting as he stares at you in disbelief and confusion. The water pelts him and it's the first time he realizes it's going a little cold. Why the fuck do you know that? Why are you keeping track? Jason doesn't even believe you. You have no reason to keep track of how many people he's saving. It's his doing and it has nothing to do with you. There is no reason for it. You're just telling him this shit to make him feel better even if that's never been something you've done.

You don't lie to him.

Jason didn't think you'd start so soon and he did do those things. The Gazette wrote a few articles about it though and Molly knew. Maybe that's how you knew but your eyes are soft and your fingers are idly playing with the wet strands at the base of his neck. Why are you keeping tabs on him when you never called?

"W-why the fuck do you know that?" Jason finally gets the words out and you can't tell if he's actually mad about it or concerned.

You hope he's just concerned.

You shrug and offer him a small but cheeky smile. "Cause I do." You suck in a breath. "Have my ways."

The very corner of Jason's mouth tugs upwards just barely at the thought that you're really keeping tabs on him, outside of hearing from your friends. If it were anyone else, he'd be pissed. He can take care of himself despite what this situation might look like to an outsider. He can take care of himself and he doesn't need people worrying about him and keeping tabs just to be disappointed or mad. Jason Todd has never needed anyone but you keeping tabs on him both as Jason Todd and Red Hood is different because you only do it for people you care about. You weren't talking and you still kept up with what he was doing. It makes him wonder why because you could have called. You could have asked yourself and maybe that makes the tiniest smile fall.

Jason didn't call either.

"Keeping tabs on me?" Jason asks with a rough but quiet voice, his brows pulling together.

Not keeping up with him feels impossible. As much as you're beating yourself up for everything and as much as a part of you doesn't think you deserve anything with him at all, there was always a part of you that knew you needed to keep up. Molly and Gar might know what he's doing as himself but Jason's going to keep them away from Red Hood as much as he can. Somewhere inside your stomach, you knew you'd find your way back into each other's lives one way or another. You just wanted to know what he was doing and if he were okay. The only thing you want is for him to be okay and killing people is not the easiest thing in the world, despite what it might look like sometimes. So, you've been keeping up with him just in case.

He's important to you, of course you keep tabs on him.

"I know you're keeping tabs on me, too." You whisper back to him, the cheeky smile completely gone from your lips.

Sometimes Molly will ask an odd question, something she either shouldn't know about or something off-handed. All of the Titans would just ask you which means the only person in Molly's ear is Jason. And you know damn well Molly is smart enough to know you'd figure it out. You just don't say anything. You give Molly the answer and Molly updates you on Jason's things. Okay, so she's a little in the middle of you and Jason but Molly knows you're both mostly asking about each other because you're worried. It is so stupid and you're so emotionally stunted, but it'd drive you both crazy not to know.

Jason just needs to know you're okay.

"Maybe." Jason finally gets a grin onto his lips because you knowing without saying anything until now makes his heart swell. Even apart, you just can't help yourselves.

"Exactly." You let out a soft laugh.

Jason nods a few times, his smile turning gentle. "Why, uh, why do you know that though? How many people?" Jason asks and he finds himself resting his hands on your hips as if on instinct.

"Helps." You answer casually. "Keeping track of everyone you kill and everyone you save by killing, it helps. Keep track of mine, too so...I kept track of yours...just in case." You clear your throat, dodging his eyes. "Know how you are and stuff so...uh, yeah, just...knowing it does help...helps on days where it feels like this might be worse." You explain softly. "It's not...by the way." You clarify. "Greater good but yeah...uh, yeah, you know sometimes it's a lot to carry."

The way you word it makes Jason's heart burn. His hands grip your hips a little tighter and he remembers the night outside of Jerry's. You nearly beat him to death and everything was still heavy. It was still a lot to carry and Jason told you to put it on him. When it gets too hard to carry, put it on him because he can carry the weight of it for you. You swore you'd do the same for him and Jason wonders when you seemed to lose that.

He knows. Deep down he knows because it haunts him in his sleep. That night outside of Excellent Gotham when you were finally done absolutely destroyed him. He knows that was the night you both lost everything. That he lost everything. He had almost gotten you, Tim, and Mr. Drake killed and you couldn't do it anymore. Jason still doesn't blame you even if it makes him want to lose his mind to guilt and regret all over again. It hurts because he always felt so secure with you but then that happened and it was like everything he ever had finally collapsed at his feet. An earthquake disguised in the words of "you win. I can't do it anymore. I'm done." crumbled his foundation. Your love had been wilting away ever since he came back and that was the day it all finally fell apart.

He wishes he could take it back. He wants what you had back.

"Still will carry some of the weight for you, Jay." You suck in a breath.

Can the wilting process be reversed? Can it be rebuilt? Or is it tarnished forever? Or can you rebuild something better? If Jason committed now again, would it be better? Could you get a fair fucking chance at this time?

Jason grinds his teeth thinking that he wants you. After all of this and you are still willing to be soaking wet in your clothes in a shower with him and carry the weight of devestation for him when it's too much for him. He is endlessly and hopelessly in love with you. He wants you. He wants what you had before and he wants to rebuild it. Somehow, some way, that is what he wants and fuck if he thinks he deserves it or not because you wouldn't be here if you didn't feel the same way.

Jason leans his forehead against yours. "You can still put it on me." Jason whispers softly and you gain a soft and subtle smile.

You don't know it, but Jason is entirely committed to you. Maybe you won't want to try again and Jason can't even blame you. It was a fucking shitshow and he died and you almost died. It was a fucking disaster. Maybe you weren't, but your worlds burned around the both of you and charred you both in the process. Maybe you won't want to and that's fine. But, Jason wants to try it all one more time, banter and games and then falling into something. It might not have worked the first time, but it'll be different this time. He's so sure of it and he is so sure of you. He just wants to find his footing and allow you to find yours first and then, even if it makes him want to throw himself through a window, he'll start the conversation.

You pull away, resting your hands on his cheeks. "Why don't we get up, get dry, and I can stay if you want me to?"

He always wants you to stay.

"Ya don't have to if you don't want to." Jason offers even though he knows you will anyway.

"I know." You smile softly at him before you scrunch your nose at him. "Guess you're just stuck with me."

Jason lets himself laugh. There's no such thing as being stuck with you. You don't get stuck to people and you make sure people don't get stuck to you. He is not stuck, it is always a pleasure to have you around. Even when it's hard.

Sorting yourselves out is for the best. It hurts the both of you more than words could possibly describe and a part of that does not feel it's for the best. It feels, somehow, more complicated now than it did before. It's as if you've both forgotten how to walk around each other and that part feels wrong. You both strolled right into each other's lives before and made yourselves right at home as if it were always meant to be that way. Being a part and sorting yourselves has left this gap between you that you're not sure how to build a bridge back. But it's for the best because you can't be together and offer each other the care you deserve if you're too busy dealing with your own traumas while trying to help the other one. It's a little too much to throw in a romance. It sucks and Jason knows it.

"Thanks."

"Of course." You get up, leaning over and turning the shower off finally.

You offer your hands to Jason and help him to his feet. The both of you are completely drenched and it makes Jason laugh. Your hair is soaked, the small bit of eyeliner is running down your cheeks and your t-shirt sags pathetically over you. You stick your tongue out at him and then laugh with him. He doesn't look much better than you do so you laugh, heartily and loud, the booms bouncing off of the tile surrounding you. It's all a little ridiculous.

"Why are you laughing?" You ask as you gasp for a breath.

"You look like a drowned rat." Jason bellows before he grabs the two towels from the towel bars.

"Fuck you!" You yell before sucking in a laugh and catching the towel from Jason. "So do you!"

"I know!" Jason agrees with you which only makes you laugh more and he thinks you're still the prettiest person he's ever met.

His laughing subsides first and turns into something soft and tender while you just smile at him before rolling your eyes. Jason wides his eyes to mock you and then he turns around. He rests his towel on the counter beside him before stripping down to his boxers and you can't help but watch. You're starting to feel goosebumps erupt over your skin as you grow colder but the sight of Jason Todd stripping down? That is not a sight to be missed.

He's somehow more toned now than he was before. The muscles of his back flex with every movement as he dries himself off. The Lazarus pit healed his face and the other injuries he sustained from the Joker but it didn't get rid of his previous scars. The one from his dad is still there and the other one from a fight on the streets. You still like how they look on him. Proof that he is alive. And the only thing you want to do is wrap your arms around him and kiss up his shoulder blades.

You almost do it.

Your feet almost move and you can almost feel how his skin will be warm against yours. He'll straighten his stance at first and then he'll relax. His hands will come up to your arms and a chuckle will fall from his lips the second you place the first kiss between his shoulder blades. You both would be happy.

You almost move.

But it's not your place anymore.

So, you will yourself to turn around and strip down just as he did, leaving you in just your bra and underwear to get as dry as you can. Jason peaks over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of your back to him. He could feel you practically boring into his back and he's relieved you turned around. It wouldn't normally bother him but he'd have to turn around eventually and he wasn't in for that conversation at the moment. But, he offers a glance, catching the raised lines of scars through your back, something that still boils Jason's blood.

Your scars never bothered him. Proof that you fight like hell to make it out alive. But, it pisses him off because what the fuck did you ever do to deserve the mistreatment? Nothing in this world justifies the horrors you went through and the fact you have to bear the scars for the rest of your life as if the haunting memories weren't enough. Jason gets it more than anyone, especially now. And all he wants to do is pull you into him, litter kisses across your face until you burst at the seams with laughter because you're happy. At least if you're laughing you're happy and that's what you deserve. To be happy.

Jason shakes his head and says he'll be back with some dry clothes before he darts out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He takes a few minutes to get some dry clothes on himself, making sure he's covered with a black t-shirt and grey sweatpants. His body starts to warm up almost immediately from the clothes and then he rummages through his things looking for something for you to wear. He grabs a pair of boxers for you, sweatpants that he only kept because they fit you better, and a red t-shirt.

When Jason gets back to the bathroom, you're seated on the toilet seat with the towel wrapped around you, cutting off just above your breasts. Jason offers you a smirk because who are the both of you if you aren't going to do this whole banter thing?

"Wanna give me a show?" Jason quips.

You snap your attention to him, seeing a pile of clothes in his hands and him now fully clothed. "No, fuck you." You chortle back as you get to your feet.

"But I'm sad." Jason gives you the fakest pout you've ever seen.

"You're still obnoxious." You quip, gesturing with one hand to get the clothes from Jason.

Jason keeps his smirk. "Better than shithead."

"Shithead." You beam up at him, still waiting for him to hand over the clothes.

"Babe." Jason laughs before handing over the clothes.

You smile back at him with the roll of your eyes. "Maybe I'd have given you one if you gave me one." You blink up at him and Jason knows damn well this is a trap.

"In your dreams." Jason holds his confidence.

You shrug, deciding to play the game. It is always the most fun that way. "Those are my best dreams."

Jason feels his cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink. "Don't have just be dreams, babe."

"You fucking wish."

"If I did?" Jason quips without missing a fucking beat.

"I know you do." You roll your eyes and he knows he's won. "Turn the fuck around or get out."

Jason lets out a laugh before he leaves you to get changed, closing the door behind him. "I'm right out here if you change your mind about the show."

"Fuck you!" You yell before Jason hears you laugh behind the door.

Jason leans against his dresser, tugging out his phone to see what he's missed. He has a few texts from Gar, mostly just TikToks and one asking how things are going. Jason decides he'll respond later, not in the mood much for explaining that one. There's a text from Dick asking how Tim is doing and Jason replies that it's going fine, not offering any further explanation. He knows damn well Dick sent the same text to you and you'll elaborate more. There isn't much else on his phone so he goes to his gallery, a habit he can't quite break.

He hasn't deleted a single photo of him and you from his phone. It's an endless and helpless bit of hope that it'll be you and him at the end of this. And these are pictures from a better time because even when he was dealing with the shit from Deathstroke, at least you were both happy. Everything still seemed so simple compared to how it feels today. It feels like years have passed since you were in your bed changing your lock screens to matching pictures. It's as if you've lost your last bit of innocence in those few weeks of terror and agony. Jason figures that's just a consequence of endless trauma. He grieves for the kids you should have been allowed to be. Innocent and dumb and stubborn and carefree. He grieves for the people you both were in the pictures on his phone.

The door opens, tugging Jason's attention up and away from his phone before he pockets it. A tender smile pulls at his lips as you walk out in his clothes, he swore they always look better on you anyway. You have a pile of clothes in your hand, topped with the black towel. You walk right up to him, standing just a few inches from him and beam up at him before you offer the stack to him.

Jason tilts his head back with a laugh before he pushes off the dresser. "Am I your fucking maid now?" He quirks his brows at you.

"I don't think you want me to answer that." You laugh right back and it's something airy and warm.

Jason shakes his head. "Fuck you."

"If you ask nicely." You fire right back and you watch the subtle tint of surprise fade over his face. You let out a snicker before Jason deadpans. "It is still so much fun to fuck with you, Jay."

Jason isn't the only one chasing the innocence of a few months ago. You can feel it, too. It's dark now. Something heavy is lingering in the air everywhere you go. You hate how it feels and ignoring it doesn't do you any good but what else is there to do? At the very least, the way Jason laughs still makes you smile. At the very least, the way he laughs makes the air not feel so heavy anymore. The banter makes things feel a little bit better because at least you're talking, at least you're still on the same page. At least it's still him and you.

"Give me your damn shit." Jason grumbles through a smile while you do as told through a laugh. "Just...wait here." Jason stutters for a second before he darts out of the room.

You make your way to his bed and sit down, your hand landing on his pillow. There's something hard under it and while it isn't your business, you pick up the pillow anyway. Jason keeps a gun under his pillow and the smile evaporates in a second. You know why he does it but...it's the reality of it. The heaviness of always having a weapon at the ready even when it dangers your own life. To live in fear. To live always on guard. It's not fair.

Your heart aches for him. Even after everything, he deserves better. He has always deserved better but now he's stuck here dealing with the monstrosities he was manipulated into doing and dealing with dying. It's all not fair and you wish you knew what you could do to make it better.

You carefully grab the gun, checking the safety and you're relieved he's at least keeping the safety on. You rest it beside you before you look on the other side of the bed, not seeing any other weapons. You'd hope you would have noticed last night or this morning if he had anything out in the open. But, Jason wouldn't which makes you wonder where else he's hiding his weapons.

"What're you doing?" Jason's voice brings your attention back to him.

"Why, uh, w-why do you keep a gun under your pillow?" You ask.

Jason's teeth grind against each other, knowing he can't lie about it. He moved it last night when you weren't paying attention. He'd never have you sleep in a bed when it could go off. But, by the way you asked, that's not why you're asking. You don't even sound mad but Jason is embarrassed anyway. Exposed again, twice in one night because of course he keeps weapons at the ready. He needs to be prepared for anything. Joker took care of the job once already and Jason has been doing a great job in making more enemies than friends these days. He keeps his guard up at all times so he doesn't get beaten to death again.

"I put it there." Jason states, stuffing his hands into his pockets, practically gluing his feet to the floor. Maybe if he doesn't move, you won't ask any more questions.

You blink at him a few times. "Yeah...I-I knew that?" You question him. "That's fucking stupid, you know that?" You ask with the nod of your head. "You might have the safety on but what if it goes off?"

"Look, it's not a fucking thing. You don't have to make it one." Jason shakes his head, gesturing a leisured hand towards you, trying to brush it off as much as he can.

You roll your eyes before you get up, gun in hand with the barrel facing the floor. "I'm not judging you for it. I get it." You shrug your shoulder as you hand the weapon to him.

Jason holds it in his hand, grip tight while he watches you go to your bag. His brows furrow as you start digging into your backpack. You pull out a switchblade, metallic blue shining against the low light of his room. You walk back over to his bed and put the knife under his pillow.

"It's locked so it shouldn't open on you while you're asleep. Just don't lose that one, I like that one." You roll your shoulders, eyes locked on his. "I got those from Bruce so they're good for throwing." You explain as you swallow thickly and you can see Jason wanting to fight you on it, defend himself but he doesn't need to. Jason Todd never needs to defend himself against you. "I have one under my pillow, too." You say quietly while you watch Jason's face soften and his shoulders relax.

Being with you was always the place he never felt judged for anything, even the blood staining his hands.

"Thank you." Jason takes a few steps forward, finally unsticking his feet from the wooden floorboards. "Don't have to look after me, though." Jason says it simply, a hint of hurt in his voice. He takes a seat beside you. "Not your job anymore." Jason's eyes are dark and sad, something tugging his thoughts back to a place they shouldn't be.

"I know." You say quietly. "It was never a job in the first place." Your eyes go to your hands and Jason can feel the lump in his throat growing again but this time, for the love he thinks he lost from you. Or the love he thought he lost. "You're still my favorite person." You whisper back to him and you don't know why you say it. You only know that it's true and it's always been true. Maybe he just needs to know it's still you and him.

"Still?" Jason asks, his eyes searching over your face for any indication that you're going to throw out some quip.

"Mhm." You hum with a subtle nod.

Jason looks to his hands in his lap and he misses you more than words could possibly describe. He misses your honesty and your care and your quips and the snark. He misses every aspect of you and he is so in love with you. He thought, for just a second, maybe that feeling would fade. Time would pass and it would fade, especially lately. You'd meet again and maybe it would be so different that he wouldn't feel like his heart would burst from his ribcage at the sight of you. You always deserved better than him anyway. After everything he put you through, you deserve better than that but he can tell by how you stutter and tug at your sleeves, the way your smile doesn't quite reach your eyes after the last bit of banter, you aren't entirely happy. Being with him, for some reason he'll never understand, made you happy. And being with you always made him happy. You're sitting here and it's as if his very heart is trying to climb through his chest to get to yours. He is still so endlessly in love with you.

"I miss you." He says it quietly, looking back to you and he wishes he could tell you the other eight letters but..that all seems a little too honest and a little unfair. He doesn't expect you to say it back.

Every day you wake up and you love him. Every day you wake up and you miss him. Today was the first day in two months, you didn't miss him. You didn't miss him because he was down the hall. You didn't miss him because he was here and so were you. Today was the first day in two months, your chest didn't ache with the thought of him. You miss him, too and you miss his smile and his laugh and the new addition of the white streak of hair. You miss his sarcasm and his ability to turn anything into some sort of joke. You always miss him. And you are endlessly in love with him.

"I miss you, too." You whisper back, eyes locking on his.

The haunted words of 'I love you' scrape down your throat, knowing it's not your place to say them. It's too honest, too vulnerable, too exposed. It's too much for both of you and it's not fair to put that on him. It's not fair to put it on him because you aren't sure what you'd do if he knew. It's agonizing swallowing the words. You have felt more at home today than you have in two months. Jason deserves to know you still love him despite it all but you can't say it.

The room falls silent, the air between you growing humid and thick. Tonight was a bad night. They happen sometimes. Sometimes the weight of it all drags Jason down and he can't pick himself up. But you walk right in and don't even hesitate. You always know what to do and you never even question it. Tonight was a bad night but you were here and he is thankful for you. He's coming into himself as Red Hood, knowing, most nights, that what he's doing is for the greater good. He's getting along with Bruce and they're actually trying for once. He sees Leslie once a week. He is trying, making a solid effort to move past everything that's ever made him feel like a burden. It's the forgiving himself for what happened that drags him down.

Everyone was right. It was his choice to go to Crane. He didn't have to. Sure, maybe it wasn't really him while he was high, but it was. It was him making that choice to keep taking it, it was his choice to ignore every single offer you ever made to bring him back just because he was pissed and stubborn and he felt abandoned. So many people have suffered because of what he did under Crane's control. It may not have been the real him but he still did it. And that's a very difficult thing to forgive himself for. And it only ever gets worse when you're involved because you were the one person who never even thought about giving up on him until you were given no other choice. It's a very hard thing to forgive himself for but he is trying.

Leslie says he needs to learn to forgive himself, everyone else has forgiven him and that should mean something.

He's trying.

He's trying to forgive himself and be better. He is trying to accept the care and kindness of others without second guessing their motives or when they'll up and leave.

He's trying not to push.

"I..." Jason stutters. "I really miss you." Jason says again, hoping you get it because he can't stand to not have you in his life anymore.

Your face softens as your heart shatters through your chest. You forgave him for everything the second it all happened. Sometimes, you can feel yourself upset about some of it but it's just the grief kicking in again. The grief of everything you both lost the second he made the decision to go to Crane. It is the one decision he has made that you don't understand but you aren't Jason. You weren't Robin. You weren't stripped of the most important thing to you, of your identity. Not like Jason was. And you forgive him anyway because Jason doesn't like to hurt people. Especially people he cares about. Pushing has always been a way to hurt himself, not other people. You forgive him for everything even if he doesn't know it.

You wish it were different so you wouldn't be suffering through the pain of missing each other. It doesn't seem very fair, especially tonight.

You know what he means.

"I really miss you, too." Your voice is honest and Jason thinks you even sound scared, a reminder of how he sounded the first time things got a little too real with your feelings. Those words hold the same meaning that they do for Jason. Everything you're both too scared to say tonight.

You lean forward, resting your forehead on his shoulder and you know your heart will only ever belong to him. It'll always be safe with him. Jason's eyes soften as he looks down at you and instead of making some quip or joke, he lets you sit in the moment. He rests his cheek against your head and all he wants to do is kiss you. This isn't easy for you either.

You lift your head and Jason's eyes are big and green, the prettiest shade of green you've ever seen. He is still the only thing you have ever wanted. He will always be the only thing you'll ever want. And Jason can feel it, too, like an invisible string tugging you together in every universe, in every timeline. You are the only thing he has ever wanted. You are the only thing he will ever want.

Jason hopes you know he feels it, too so he rests his forehead against yours first this time. Your eyes close as your shoulders relax and Jason finally lets out a breath before his eyes close. He'll never ask because that's too soon into whatever this friendship is going to be but he's hoping you stay awhile. Stays past morning tomorrow and into the night. You don't have to talk about any of it, he just wants you to stay and he wants to stay just like this because it's the safest he's felt in two months. And it's like a reflex, embedded deep into his DNA, he brushes his nose against yours as he feels your breath fan over his lips.

You match him but instead, you brush your lips against his. You haven't kissed him in a month and a half yet it feels like it's been an entire century. Kissing him has always washed away every doubt and ounce of sadness you've ever had. Him kissing you has always made you feel wanted, the two of you against the world. That's how it should have been and that's how it should be now. You want to kiss him so badly you think you might burst into tears. Life was always better with him in it. You want to kiss him to show him that even if you can't be together, you still love him with every ounce of your existence.

Jason's head starts to spin and he holds his breath. He's thrown right back to that time in the manor when you told him to prove it. You said it and he never put in a single thought after that. He took the leap and he thinks it was one of the best decisions he's ever made. That kiss sealed your fate together, even for just that short time. It brought you to him in a way he didn't think he'd ever be lucky enough to have. Being with you made him feel lucky for the first time in a very long time.

Maybe you can do this again. Maybe the way for you to do anything is to tiptoe into it. It didn't work last time but it wasn't for lack of trying. It was Jason who fucked it up but it had nothing to do with you and him. Maybe falling back into each other is how it's supposed to be. Maybe you could fix it all. It's just lonely without you. He's terrified but your lips brush over his again and you're making the first move this time. You can still quiet every horrible thought he's ever had. He loves you with every ounce of his very existence.

Jason brings his hand to your cheek, running his thumb over your cheek. Your skin is always soft under his callused fingers. He thought maybe you'd back out because you do that. You run from everything, you back out, it's all a joke and that's that. It would be incredibly painful but...you don't. You lean into him instead. So, Jason finally closes the bit of distance between you and brings his lips to yours.

You smile against him and Jason can breathe again. He can breathe again as you kiss him back and your mouth moves with his. This might be a one-time thing but that's okay because even if it's just for this moment, you choose him. And he chooses you. You will always choose each other. In the chaos of your lives, somehow, you find your way back right here with your hands pulling the collar of his shirt closer to you and his hands on your cheeks. You choose each other anyway. Despite the pain and heartbreak and chaos and all of the terrible, horrible, thoughts, you choose each other. Even if it is just for a moment, Jason decides to take the second leap and he wants this moment to last as long as you will let it. If you'll have him.

Jason moves his hands to your hips, giving them a squeeze before he tugs you closer to him. You get the hint and without breaking the kiss, you move to straddle his lap, Jason guiding you down. His hands squeeze your hips and he tugs you as close to him as possible while your hands find their way to his shoulders and then the back of his neck. Your fingers tangle in the damp hair at the base of his neck. The kiss grows sloppy and desperate, teeth clanking against each other and it is the most cathartic feeling the both of you have had in a long time.

It is healing parts of you both you didn't think possible. Normally, it's Jason questioning your feelings because why would you ever love him after all the damage he's done? But, it's you questioning that as you kiss him with everything in you. You're just like everyone else, why would he forgive you for that? Why would he kiss you like he's still hopelessly in love with you? You broke a promise to him and he's still here and you have no idea why. But, tonight, you're going to allow yourself to be thankful. All that matters right now is that you're here, together, just him and you.

Jason swears you have left a permanent make spelling out your name across his heart and Jason wouldn't have any other name in your place. And a part of him thinks you know, too. It's as if it glows and heats up the center of his chest whenever you're around. It's like his heart becomes a beacon of light on the top of a lighthouse the second you kiss him. You make him feel alive again and he doesn't have to feel so alone when you're here.

You feel so at home with him. Every piece of paranoia that's been coursing through you fades away and you know, without a shadow of a doubt, with Jason you're safe. After everything, he will always protect you. You will always protect him. You're tied together even if you don't want to admit it to each other. You've ruined each other for anyone that would ever come after and the both of you have never been so thankful.

Jason pulls away, his chest heaving as his eyes open slowly. Your eyes meet his slowly, pupils lust-blown and you have a loving and lazy smile spread across your lips. He thinks he could do this all night long.

He gains his signature smirk. "Did I win that time?" Jason's eyes glance to your lips.

You deadpan and shake your head. You expect absolutely nothing less from him. "Shut the fuck up."

Jason lets out the warmest chortle you've ever heard. "That's a yes."

"Just shut up and kiss me." You groan before colliding your lips with his.

You can feel him grin wildly against your lips before he falls right back into rhythm with you.

prev. chapter | next chapter

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

Tag List: @fairyofshampoo // @italiana-20 // @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai //

@makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @mayfieldss // @ghostkingblake // @im-done-with-this-im-out //

@velvetskies // @lilylovelyxo // @cryinghotmesss // @yesimwriting // @vivian-555 //

@stainedstardom // @baebeepeach // @legend-o-zelda // @harleycao // @somehow-lovable-trash //

@xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx // @deyja-the-duck // @jasontoddslover // @captainmarvels-blog // @totallynotkaibiased //

@scarlovesyou // @whydoyoucare866 // @littlemeowmeow1000 // @ginger24880 // @urmomsgayforme5 //

@septixtrash // @kplatzman // @killxz // @lovefks // @laurelthesimp //

@strawberryforks // @mxtokko // @kolpvii // @adorabluesposts // @jasontoddthings //

@bbiaa420 // @todorokiskitten // @krishavania

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x fem!reader #red hood fanfic #red hood fanfiction #titans fanfic #titans fanfiction #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction #penance

84 notes · View notes

whumpback-wail · 2 years ago

Text

06 - Embrace

Trial by Fire (Wriothesley x Reader) - TW/CW in masterlist

[<<< previous chapter] • [masterlist] • [next chapter >>>]

IMPORTANT NOTICE: Reminder that this fanfic contains dark and mature themes. The TW/CW are in the masterlist and are constantly updated as I add each chapter. Please reread the warnings, proceed only after you reread the warnings. If you don't like/can't handle the topics mentioned in the TW/CW, please DO NOT read. This work is 100000% fictional and any similarities to real life people and events are purely coincidental, and none of the characters (especially the villains) are real. Again, please DO NOT read if you are not certain you can handle these topics or are in a bad place mentally. Minors are strictly forbidden. I only create content, and I am not responsible for your personal content preference and moderation. If you think you will not like this story, please just scroll away. You have been warned.

The snow fell slowly, painting the streets of Fontaine white. Wriothesley's black jacket a stark contrast that stuck out against the white landscape as he briskly walked towards the hospital.

(y/n)...

The anger had slowly subsided, taking its place was a mix of guilt, worry, and something else he couldn't put a finger on. All he wanted that moment was just to hold her in his arms again, and let her feel safe.

Like muscle memory, he walked straight towards her room, but was stopped by a nurse.

“Your Grace, (y/n)’s room has been moved to a different one, a fire seemed to have started there but we managed to catch it before it caused too much damage.”

He cussed under his breath, “where’s (y/n)? Is she okay?”

The nurse nodded, “she’s alright, just a bit shaken. She told us fire suddenly burst out of the book by her nightstand just as she was reaching for it.”

And we’ve only got the information on vision injections today, what’s with this timing.

“Take me to her room.”

“Certainly, right this way, your Grace.”

The nurse, while explaining to him everything that happened, led him to a different floor from (y/n)’s previous room. He immediately knew which room (y/n) would be in once he spotted Navia’s 2 men in front of the door, who promptly stood up and gave him a salute, to which he nodded politely.

“Oh right,” Wriothesley turned to the nurse just as he was entering the room, “there are some new updates for everyone we rescued from that facility, one of Spina di Rosula’s men will be here soon with a copy of the files. Guys might need them for medical purposes.”

When he entered the room, his eyes immediately landed on (y/n), who he initially thought was asleep, until she opened her eyes. She must have noticed his grim expression, because she immediately sat up.

“Wriothesley? Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

He shook his head, taking a seat next to her. He wanted to spill everything and tell her that he knew everything. The things they did in the facility, the experiments, her… assault. But will it cause her to have another panic attack? Does she even want to know, or does she want to just forget? Does she have any idea what happened and how she could set fire to her book? Does she know her vision is still with her even now?

He blinked back his tears, refusing to meet her eyes, but (y/n) could tell from the way he gripped her hand, it was something serious.

“Wriothesley, love, you can tell me,” (y/n) placed a hand on his cheek, to which he automatically leaned into. “I can tell you’re probably worried about my mental state, but hey my therapist told me I’m doing well!”

He recalled, clear as day, the number of times he had tried to bring up questions about what happened at the facility. (y/n) had only managed to explain bits and pieces of information, but had been only the things she knew, she did mention painful injections but didn’t know that it was her own vision that was injected into her. Those sessions had always ended with her crying and panicking. He didn’t want to put her through that.

He smiled bitterly, “I know you are… I just don’t think you’re ready for this.”

(y/n) swallowed, “is it… is it about me?”

Wriothesley nodded, eyes still averted.

(y/n) squeezed the hand that held hers, “I… I think I’m ready to know more.”

Wriothesley looked up, now his steely blue gaze met with her concerned yet nervous ones.

“Are you sure?” his thumb rubbed circles into the back of her hand.

(y/n) took a deep breath, “yeah, I’ll tell you if it gets too much.”

Wriothesley nodded, and told (y/n) everything he learned. The experiments, the vision injections- (y/n) was really shocked at this, although she had a suspicion about it when she saw her book catch fire so suddenly. As he spoke, Wriothesley kept a close eye on her expression and gestures. He’s been with her long enough to know if she’s uncomfortable, or if it gets too much for her. Whenever her breathing hitched, he would stop for a bit and rub her back until she gestured for him to continue.

“That was all we got from the notes left behind at their base,” Wriothesley eyed (y/n) carefully. She was playing with a loose thread poking off the end of her blanket, eyes distant and looking as if she’s processing all the information.

Wriothesley knew he had to keep going. “and now we have Dougier under our custody.”

At the mention of his name, (y/n) visibly tensed up, “oh…”

“I heard he assisted in some of the experi- procedures.”

(y/n) hesitated, “did you manage to get more information out of him? Like how do we reverse the vision injections? How do I control it?”

“Apparently only Arderne knows that bit of information,” Wriothesley sighed, shifting nervously, “and right now he’s still at large. I assure you we’ll get him, and that you’re safe here, okay?”

(y/n) nodded.

The room fell silent for a few tense moments. (y/n) picked up her blubberbeast plushie and held it to her face. It smells like Wriothesley, as he had sprayed his cologne on it. It brings a feeling of comfort to her, as if a reminder that she is never alone and that he’s with her and keeping her safe even when he’s not by her side.

Watching her, Wriothesley hesitated, but he had to- need to ask her.

“(y/n).”

Sensing his change of tone, (y/n) tensed, her hand stopping mid stroke down her plushie’s back. She turned to him.

He seemed to hesitate, looking down at her blanket instead of her face. The silent stretched for what felt like hours before he finally raised his gaze to meet her eyes.

“At the facility- no. uhh… How do I say this.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, “How… How often do you throw up?”

(y/n) blinked, confused. “what?”

“Every morning these last few days, you wake up and rush straight to the bathroom. We did think it was a stomach bug, but when I asked the nurses for the diagnosis, it was as if they're hiding the information from me.”

She couldn’t breathe. It felt as if her blood was frozen but it burned at the same time. Fuck he knew. Wriothesley knew. He’s always been so observant how did she think she can even hide this from him?

“(y/n)... Are you hiding- uhh… Are-Are you pregnant?”

It was like a dam that burst. A sob escaped (y/n)’s lips, one that she tried to hold back but failed. That was confirmation enough for Wriothesley, who felt his own tears prickling behind his eyes. A split second later, (y/n) shot out of her bed, and with wobbly steps using her crutch, went straight to the bathroom. Wriothesley had gotten up to help, but was pushed away feebly. Quickly, she threw open the lid of the toilet and expelled the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

“(y/n)-”

“Don’t-” (y/n) sobbed, flushing the toilet and sinking down even lower onto the bathroom floor, “I don’t want you to see me like this. You shouldn’t have known about this.”

Wriothesley paused, then slowly took another step towards her, hands open as if trying to calm a scared animal. Before he had a chance to speak, (y/n) continued.

“I feel so dirty and gross. No matter how many times I showered and scrubbed myself I can still feel his hands.”

He took a step. “(y/n)...”

“I was going to take care of the abortion process myself, and just forget everything that happened. I didn’t want to tell you. I’m so sorry I couldn't tell you. I just feel so disgusting.”

Another step. “Darling please-”

“I don’t want you to look at me or think of me differently, I just want to put everything behind me, pretend none of that ever happened and just go back to how everything was.”

Wriothesley slowly sank to his knees beside (y/n), who scooted away from him, as if by reflex.

“Don’t touch me. I-I can’t… I know you’ll probably feel disgusted and hate me for it, for hiding it from you, for everything-”

On the contrary, seeing (y/n) like this only served as the final trigger that released his tears, which finally flowed freely down his cheeks. All he wanted to do was hold her and keep her safe, tell her he loves her and… She looked so broken he just wanted to hold her. Archons, please let me hold her.

“I’ll disappear from here if that’s what is best. Just say it. You don’t want me anymore-”

”(y/n),” his voice shook, “I’m so sorry that happened. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to get you sooner. No one deserved to go through what you did. Everyday I hated myself for it, I kept thinking I should have done this, or that. I should have gotten you sooner.”

(y/n) wiped her tears, only for it to be replaced by more. Her vision was blurry as she tried to look at him. Part of her was glad about it, as it probably hid the disgust in his eyes.

“I’m not disgusted by you, no, that was the furthest thing from my mind. (y/n) may I hold you? Please?”

(y/n) just kept sniffling and wiping her tears which seemed to flow endlessly, but made no move to scoot further away, so Wriothesley slowly approached her and took her hand in his. He placed a gentle kiss on it, which only made her cry even more.

“I’m sorry darling, I’m so, so sorry.”

He gathered her in his arms and held her tightly, as if afraid that she would disappear as soon as he let go.

(y/n)’s voice quivered as she asked “y-you don’t hate-”

“Sshhh…” Wriothesley placed a kiss on her forehead, his own tears fell off his cheeks and onto hers. “Something like this can never make me hate you, I promise. I understand why you wanted to hide it, but please know that you don’t have to. We’ll figure out our next step together okay?”

He didn’t know how long they both sat there on the bathroom floor, crying in each other’s embrace. It took a long while for (y/n)’s sobs and sniffles to die down. He kept one hand on her back, and the other stroke her hair, hoping to provide as much comfort as possible.

I love her.

“I wish you can see yourself through my eyes,” Wriothesley whispered in her ea, “it’s gonna be okay. I promise you, (y/n).”

His words were met with silence, as it has been the past few minutes.

“If nothing else I say sticks, at least please let this be the one thing you remember. It’s not your fault. I love you (y/n), you’re still the same old (y/n) I know and love, and Archons, no matter what happens I can’t imagine a life without you. I love you so much (y/n), none of this is your fault.”

He decided to wait a little longer before he noticed that her breathing was slower. Wriothesley peered at her face and saw that her eyes were closed.Tear tracks were still present on her cheeks, which he wiped away with his thumbs, before placing a gentle kiss on top of her head.

Slowly he shifted his position so that he was carrying her in a princess carry, with her head resting comfortably on his shoulder. He walked over to her bed and gently laid her down, tucking her in under the blanket, and placing her plushie right beside her.

For some time, he sat beside her, just admiring her features and tracing her cheeks all the way to her jaw with the back of his hand, light as a feather.

“We’ll get through this together, you and me. I promise you.”

[<<< previous chapter] • [masterlist] • [next chapter >>>]

(っ˘̩╭╮˘̩)っ(ノ_<;。)

If you think reading this chapter is hard, imagine writing it :”D emotional damage

Apologies for the late update, and perhaps a steady decline in writing quality (I’m no writer, just doing this for fun!) as I have been swamped with work this past week after I was down with a bad cold for quite a bit (there’s been a bug around, and so many people were sick :”D) I sincerely thank all of you for your continued support for this series, I love you guys. Hope you all stay safe and healthy!

I hope the next chapter won’t be as hard to write because hoooo BOYE. my bf had to comfort me after I finished writing this chapter.

Taglist: @almosteggs @quuela @tempest1art @yamanaka13-blog @arseneumbra @kimmeaahh @cottonfluffs @randomidk-123 @applejayee @keigo-hawks-takami-simp @mechanicalbeat1 @aribae14 @bforbiblio @supernerdycookietrashblrr @furblrwurblr @chifuyus-kitty @bunnibabe @the-real-fandom-person @idawnghoul

#wriothesley x reader #whump #anime whump #whump writing #whump fanfic #wriothesley #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #wriothesley angst #wriothesley x reader angst #hurt/comfort

302 notes · View notes

prettyboypistol · 1 year ago

Note

hi there!! I'm new here, and I really like your writing lol. There's not a whole male reader stuff in the tf2 fandom from what I've seen, like, at all, and you're writing is just- skandnsns *so* good-

Anyways, uh, I'm sorry if you're not taking requests right now, I only just found your blog about a month ago, but I wanted to send in smt if that's okay??

Anyways, I was wonderin' if you could write something with the mercs, with a reader who has a panic attack the first time they respawn?

Like, maybe their a recent recruit, and they somehow haven't died on the battlefield yet?? The feeling of dying is probably horrible, that moment of not being able to breath, before nothing, even after respawning, so maybe after the match they skink off by themselves, not even noticing how off their acting as they leave. Platonic or romantic is fine lol. Sorry if I worded this weird, or it's too long, I've never really requested smt before

Anyways, love your writing dude!!

First Respawn || TF2 Mercs x M!Reader

can be read as platonic or romantic

Context: You and another merc were actually doing pretty well together- since you were assigned to shadow the more experienced people to really figure out how to fight and travel efficiently. Both of you were caught off guard by an enemy Heavy, who killed you both.

Scout

Jeremy respawned with a fit of curses and a stretching routine, yammering on about how Heavys shouldn't be allowed to sneak around. Then, he looked over to you. You were frantically touching over your chest and legs, desperately searching for the wounds you just felt agonizingly rip you from life. Jeremy bit the inside of his cheek before he crouched down to where you were.

"Hey man, 's'all good. That's respawn for you! You can never die here!" Scout explained lightheartedly.

"I- I felt-" A wrapped finger pressed against your lips, followed by a look of understanding and underlying discomfort.

"Shh, I know. I can't stand it either, but you don't really have a choice. You either just don't die or you bite your tongue and power through, kay? If the bosslady sees us chit-chattin', we'll both be in trouble!" Jeremy pulled you to stand up and shoved your weapon into your arms. "We can talk about it later, I'm really sorry pal."

Soldier

You and Jane were quickly executed and brought back to spawn. For Soldier, it was just another death. It's not like it meant anything! He quickly gathered his weapon and charged out, only to return a few seconds later.

"ON YOUR FEET, PRIVATE! UNLESS THOSE LEGS ARE BROKEN, OUR COUNTRY EXPECTS US TO FIGHT!" He tried to encourage you.

"I just died!" You wheeze out, more shocked than anything. "I'm dead! I got killed! I-"

Soldier yanked you to your feet and dragged you out to the battle field again, much to your scrambled protests.

"TEUFORT IS ALL ABOUT DYING AND COMING BACK! WE CAN LIVE FOREVER HERE!"

From somewhere you can't quite make out, you hear your Medic start to shout: "We are not living forever! Just unkillable!"

Pyro

Pyro had never seen a reaction like that before for respawn. They had seen anger, frustration- well, mostly anger. They watched carefully as tears streamed down your eyes as you sunk to the ground. You seemed... shell shocked? It was hard to really see through the pink clouds and mishearing your sobs as baby's laughter, but Pyro could definitely tell that something was up.

They placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, then pat your head softly with a humming of an upbeat tune. You didn't know the Pyro well, but from what you had heard from Engie and Medic, this was a definite attempt to comfort you. With one last sniffle, Pyro pointed to the doors with an excited cheer. You knew you had a job to do and not enough time in the day to do it in.

Pyro kept you close and looked around a lot more once out on the field as they hid you from most people's sight.

Demoman

As much as you and Tavish were friends off the clock, he really could be too daft. You gasped as you respawned, coughing violently. Tavish turned to you with a confused expression, but realized immediately that- oh shit, that was your first respawn. Demoman pulled you close and cradled you tight with a murmuring for you to follow his deep breaths.

"Right-o, breeeeathe. In... Out... Good job, just deep breaths." Tavish sighed quietly as he led you out of the spawn room and to a more private location. "That's respawn. You can't die here- but it's a hell of a thing to get used to it is. Sit back and hide while you calm down. If anyone notices a dip in my killstreak, I'd get a paycut."

As asshole-ish as it was for him to leave you, you really understood. He had a mother to take care of, after all. At least he talked to you after in detail about the functions along with Engineer and Medic.

Heavy

Heavy immediately noticed the nervous shakes that wracked through your body as life seemed to be thrust back into your arms just as quickly as it was torn away. Mikhail sighed and patted your back- a little too roughly for your liking, but the height and power difference was most likely to blame for that.

"It is... not easy to start- jarring? Yes, jarring at start." Mikhail sympathizes. "Deep breathing, we won't let it happen again." He promised as he nudged Sasha towards you. All you could offer was a weak smile as tears forced themselves down your cheeks.

Heavy felt a pang of guilt for needing to go right back to work, especially when his charge was so broken up about literally dying (it was reasonable, after all.), but orders were orders and the mouths of his family couldn't be fed by wasting time. He kept you close as he refused to keep you out of his sight at all- protecting you from any further harm.

Engineer

"Dag-nabbit! Those big guys should- oh." Dell watched as you started to hyperventilate and quickly rushed you to the intel room for a bit more privacy.

"Here, we can set up a few sentries here. Hide under the desk while I'm gone, okay? I'll be right back son." Was all you really could hear as you scrambled over to the desk with shakes and sobs deafening you to the outside world. It felt like hours, but finally a warm presence enveloped you. Dell stroked your hair and shushed you softly as you worked through the thrill of revival.

"I bet that was a scare, huh? Don't you worry. Me and Medic worked extra hard on these machines. You're gonna be safe in my hands, son. Don't you worry one lil' bit."

Spy

He rolled his eyes as you tried to feel for the now-healed bullet wounds, but deep down, he knew that he did the exact same thing on his first respawn. Half heartedly, he offered you a cigarette.

"It takes your mind off it- are you allergic to cannabis?"

How the hell did he manage to smuggle marijuana into a military establishment?! Wasn't this one of the most secure bases of Mann. Co?! Nevertheless, in moreso an act of desperation rather than actual desire to smoke, you deeply inhaled the smoke... Only to cough so loud and violently that you accidentally made yourself throw up.

Your superior was not impressed at the sight.

"I'm never letting you smoke my cigarettes again."

Medic

Ludwig was just how you expected him to be as you crumpled to your knees. He bragged about his amazing invention in an attempt to comfort you. A gloved hand brushed over your chest at where the bullets were with a manic smile.

"See! No holes! Quite the genius invention, yes?" He hummed happily. "Now, I know the adrenaline is still in your veins from well- dying- but that is more of a boost for when you get back out on the field!"

"Boost?! Back Out?! Hell no!" You protested as you scrambled away from Ludwig. "I fucking died!"

He clicked his tongue with an unamused expression. "Only temporarily- I'd argue not at all! Your heart barely stopped!"

You decided to keep your emotions and arguments to yourself.

Sniper

"How the hell did the big guy even get into my nest? Probably broke the ladder climbin'- you alright?"

You clearly weren't.

"Awe shit, yeah. Probably your first time kickin' the bucket." He muttered, mostly to himself as he crouched down to speak to you at eye level.

"Don't be too frazzled, chickadee. It's not the Heavy's you'll be worrying about mostly when you stick with me. At least the other Spy is efficient about the backstabs. I barely even feel 'em half the time."

You knew he was trying to be comforting, but it really just... didn't work too well.

281 notes · View notes

sinner-sunflower · 1 year ago

Text

P.2 HH Lucifer-centric AU 1/?

STORY 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 14.5, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22, PART 23, PART 24, PART 25, PART 26, PART 27, UPDATE

We're finally here! I hope this sequel makes you feel the same excitement the first one gave you. I know I'm excited.

To the new readers, please read STORY 1 first for better understanding of how we got to this point. Trust me, it's important plus! It's a pretty awesome prequel if I do say so myself.

To the readers who have been there since I posted part 1, I hope I make you proud too!

Let's go!

HOOK: A LUCIFER CENTRIC AU - AO3

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

Previously:

A powerful explosion lit up the sky. The sky split in two and fire appeared high and wide over Pride. At that moment, everyone became so hot that they couldn't bear it, as if their whole body was on fire. They wanted to rip their skin off just to get a sense of relief but then the sky shut closed. A strong thump was heard by every demon in the vicinity and then they were all thrown a few meters.

It felt like an eternity before Charlie and the others could get their bearings. Those that didn't get knocked out went outside, once there, they see Lucifer far up in the sky, holding up a flaming sword. The signature pentagram of the city has been fractured by whatever happened and demons all around were either hurt or unconscious.

Charlie: Dad!

Charlie calls out to her dad but he doesn't acknowledge her. His gaze never leaving Heaven, as if he's seeing something that no one else can.

A screen locked on Hell zooms out as the machine's voice rang out 'target disengaged'.

An angel looking similarly to Lucifer, except there's blue tints on the spots where Lucifer had reds, was looking down at Hell pulling back a large, golden gun. They blew the smoke residue and sighed.

Michael: Hello, Lucifer... Still causing trouble, I see.

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

Lucifer lands on the now burnt soil of Pride trying to keep his composure calm as those who were not knocked out by the blast panic once again.

His jaw clenched so tightly that the muscles strained against the skin, teeth grinding together like stones. He tightens his grip on Lightbringer, knuckles whitening.

'Damn it, Michael!'

In his pure anger, his body moves on its own. Lucifer swung his arm back, Lightbringer's flames tracing a graceful arc through the air. He pivots his back foot and-

How dare Michael! How dare he attack Hell, endanger his home, his family, HIS DAUGHTER!

Before he could launch his sword at Heaven, at Michael, in retaliation, a mass of assorted colors grabs his arms and blocks his view.

It was the Sins.

Lucifer: Let go.

Lucifer lets out a wave of power, they faltered a bit but none released their hold or moved.

Satan: We- shit! We can't do that.

Mammon: Mate, don't do something I would definitely do.

Asmodeus: Stop, Lucifer. this will only make things worse. We'll come up with a plan but we can't afford setting off a war right now!

They're trying to reason with their King but Lucifer's eyes are still looking through them.

Lucifer: I'm not the one who started this.

Beelzebub: We know, babe! But! You're getting pissed off more than Satan over here on a normal day. It's not a cute look.

Satan: Hey!

Belphegor: Ozzie is right.

Leviathan: Calm down, Luci.

He was about to shake them off and continue what he was about to do until-

Charlie: Dad!

And just like that Lucifer's anger recedes. He slumps a little into the Sins' holds and calls back Lightbringer.

Charlie and the hotel residents were the first to reach him, he can feel his daughter's hands all over him checking for any injuries as the others worry about what happened. And what the fuck was that?? Was that Heaven??

He was about to say something when they were suddenly blinded by flashes and a bunch microphones being shoved at his face. His family were screaming obscenities for the press to back the fuck up.

'How did they get here so fast?'

Reporter 1: -Your Majesty! Can you tell us what was that??

Reporter 2: -Lucifer, over here! Was that a direct attack from Heaven?

Reporter 3: -Does it have anything to do with what happened in Sloth?

Reporter 4: -Lucifer! Lucifer! Does this mean a war with Heaven is about to happen??

Reporter 5: -Sire, the Pentagram symbol above is destroyed! Is that a barrier? If so, do we not have any protection against Heaven anymore?

Reporter 6: -Are you any match for Heaven's higher forces?

Questions after questions. It doesn't stop even with the threat of the Sins.

'Too loud. Too noisy. ShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutup SHUT UP!'

He looks directly at the group vultures, letting Roo's attributes surface more.

Lucifer: Fall.

The noise stops and the next moment the demons around them fell to the ground fast asleep.

Not even Charlie berated him for using that ability against their will.

Lucifer: Alright. Why don't we talk inside?

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

I feel like the start of my AUs are always short but I hope y'all will support me again 'til the end!

Read STORY 1 here!

98 notes · View notes

evelyns-envy · 4 months ago

Text

✎why can't we just...love like kids?

synopsis: you and Aaron Warner's families have been friends for decades. it started with your great grandparents, leading all the way down to the two of you. when Aaron gets overwhelmed at one of Anderson's huge business parties, he seeks refuge in a certain other 15 year old who he may or may not be secretly head over heels for.

warnings! - aaron being soft for once, comfort, aaron ranting, mentions of abuse (anderson), this is in bullet point format bc i find it easier to read!, yelling, aaron on the verge of a panic attack, occasional use of y/n (i know i know im sorry), alcohol!

THIS IS PART ONE FYI PT 2 WILL BE LINKED WHEN FINISHED!

SETTING THE SCENE

before the world went entirely to shit, Paris Anderson would have constant business meetings.

some would end up becoming more of a large party, with quite a bit of drinking involved.

the first family ever on the invite list was yours, considering how far back you guys went.

your father was heavily involved with the Reestablishment, alongside Anderson, causing you and Aaron to get very close very quickly.

while the adults drank, argued, and slurred their harsh words, you and Aaron would seek out a place to truly hear each other speak.

y'all's main "hiding spot" was the lush gardens behind the Anderson Estate.

however, some events would occupy the serene space, causing you and Aaron to opt for his lavish bedroom instead.

as long as you two were together, it really only mattered that you were together, two fifteen year old's just trying to live for a little.

THE 14TH ANNUAL BALL.

Anderson liked to call the business parties "balls" to make it seem fancier than a bunch of spiteful adults mocking each other and yelling.

Aaron however, called them "bitchass anger meetings".

they all sat in the dining hall, massive circular table taking up the entire room, enough chairs to seat about 200 people.

yet the table was split into three different sections!

one section was dedicated to the men and women who were members of the Reestablishment, one for their spouses and the small children, and the last section for the adolescents.

you and Aaron were never more than a seat apart, more than likely right next to each other.

you two were an impermeable duo, no other kids daring to try and come between you both.

when y'all eventually snuck off once the "ball" got rowdy, it was out of the blue to no one.

June 18th, 7:43 PM.

they had begun.

begun the drunken words which they would regret in the morning (or not.)

Aaron had been called over to the adults section by his father about 15 minutes ago.

you could see him there blonde hair slightly messy from your fingers running through it earlier when you were attempting to fix a stray hair.

his suit was perfectly pressed, standing by his father's side as if he was a statue. he didn't move, didn't blink, didn't speak unless spoken to.

how he was raised.

"it's pitiful, truly. he's going to grow up to be just like his daddy, cruel and damn mean."

a voice whispered to your right, snapping you out of your trance.

"Aaron is nothing like Anderson- and he never will be. shut your trap before i staple it shut."

that sort of tone was reserved for people talking shit about the few people you genuinely cared about and would defend with your life- one of them being Aaron Warner.

the girl's eyes went wide and she averted her gaze from you, staring at her plate.

you rolled your eyes, poking uninterestedly at the shredded pork on your plate.

when you look back up at the stiff boy next to Anderson, you find yourself making eye contact with him.

you smiled (like an absolute idiot), and it was visible that was trying not to do the exact same.

you nodded towards the large glass door on the right side of the ballroom, silently hoping he would get the gesture and follow you outside whenever he was dismissed.

he nodded faintly ensuring no one saw him move without permission.

you rose from your seat hastily, eager to get some fresh air (and to see him heheh)

little did you know... it would be a little until your best friend was allowed to leave.

heheh

#aaron warner #evelyn💋#watch me #shatter me #tahereh mafi #kenji kishimoto #juliette ferrars #aaron warner x reader #x reader #aaron warner fluff

52 notes · View notes

tenrousei-kuroi · 8 months ago

Note

Hi. I was just wondering how do you perceive canon Sirius? I haven’t read any of the books and I keep seeing different interpretations (psychotic bully top, Regina George, woke gen z etc etc) of this character it really makes me wonder.

Oh, that's a really good question...and you have no idea the novel-length response it's going to prompt from me, lol.

I'll give my short response first and only the brave and masochistic will need to venture below the cut...

Sirius was as good a person as most people can reasonably be. He suffered a lot in his life and didn't handle it very well. While he showed that he logically understood right and wrong, the moral complexity of the world, etc., he was ultimately someone who struggled to live by his own standards. A hypocrite, really, though I say that word a bit more softly than most. He spent half his life in prison for a crime he didn't commit yet still felt guilty for and was never really given the chance to properly mature.

Ultimately the words I would use would be immature, depressed, selfish, and regretful. Very much the poster child for displacement, ie: someone who has been hurt taking that anger and acting out towards others.

We learn directly who Sirius is after Azkaban, through his appearances in the first five books. And we learn indirectly about his Hogwarts years through a few flashbacks and lot of very biased recollections...

Because Harry Potter is the point of view character for the series, we don't ever get to see anyone else's thoughts, and so any interpretations of character motivations are going to get run through two filters: one is Harry's perception, and the second is the reader themselves.

That's a longform way of me admitting that my interpretations of Sirius Black may actually say more about me than they really do about him.

So I can't claim to be right or anything like that when I spout off how I personally feel about a secondary character like Sirius. But I do like to think my ideas are grounded in pretty solid logic. I guess I'll start off with what Sirius Black really isn't:

A woke gen z-er, as you put it lol. There's of course nothing wrong with someone going this route in their fanfics, it's all just for fun, and I like a lot of these works, personally. And I can see how and why people gravitate towards them. But I will warn anyone whose entire experience with the Marauders is coming from fanfics where Sirius Black is helping Timothee Chalamet his brother navigate his trans awaking and calming his lover Remus Lupin down from a panic attack using Tik-Tok approved counseling tricks to not go diving into the actual canon Harry Potter series expecting that....because you will not find it, lol.

An incestuous and abusive psychopath. I gotta' be fair and throw my own works under the same bus here. As much as I think I stick closer to canon Sirius in a lot of ways....the Sirius that pops up in my fanfic shenanigans is just as out of left field. As much as Sirius/Regulus has been my OTP for basically forever, I could never actually see canon-Sirius displaying the level of deliberate, active cruelty or complete lack of basic morality that I like to attach to him. Like other people giving him the vocabulary of a 2020's Tik-Tok star, it's just a fun fantasy on my end.

So I guess that leaves us with trying to figure out what exactly Sirius Black is. At least as far as we can surmise from his canon behaviors.

Full disclosure that I am not including Pottermore or any of JKR's random tweets. As far as I'm concerned, canon is the 7 main books and I don't pay attention to much else. So let's break it down book-by-book:

Philosopher's/Sorcerer's Stone: He's mentioned once here, just in passing. Hagrid talks about Sirius lending him his motorcycle to get Harry to the Dursleys' faster. With the context we later gain from book three, we can plausibly assume that Sirius Black is incredibly reactive, and quick to go all-in on things in the wake of a huge emotional upset. With his friends dead and Hagrid refusing to give him his godson, Sirius essentially 'throws away' his most prized possession and only getaway--his motorcycle--and then goes away with the Aurors, laughing loudly instead of trying to proclaim his innocence.

Prisoner of Azkaban: This is Sirius's book and he spends 80% of it as the villain, at least until the Truth(tm) is revealed at the end. But even though he's proven not to be a Death Eater or murderer, he still behaves alarmingly. It's explained that Sirius's innocence was the 'unhappy' thought that kept him sane in prison, but it didn't stop him from becoming obsessive. He's so consumed with the desire for revenge against Peter Pettigrew (not necessarily saying I blame him, lol) that he is willing to endanger and even outright hurt Harry and his friends to do so. He does make mention that part of his motivation was to 'save Harry' as he felt Peter being in disguise as a rat living at Hogwarts was dangerous to his godson. But he did almost choke the kid out in that shack when he got in the way of Peter Pettigrew Murder Time, lol. So Sirius was somewhat emotionally volatile. It's clear he doesn't always think things through before he acts.

This is further reiterated with the whole Snape-Lupin-James werewolf fun times fiasco. We don't get a direct and honest retelling of "The Prank" events ever, instead having to make due with different characters giving their opinions on decades-old memories. Dumbledore first presents the issue without mentioning Sirius at all, merely telling Harry in the first book that Snape "never forgave" James for saving his life and then trying to pass off all of Snape's behaviors towards Harry as a sort of begrudging protective role and half-assed effort to make even with a ghost. By book three we get more context and learn that James "saved" Snape after Sirius told him how to get to the Shack. Sirius clearly has a habit of razing things down in anger without thought towards the consequences, and then hiding from the responsibility, possibly from selfishness or guilt or both. We know that Remus, Lily and others were able to forgive him for nearly getting Snape killed and Remus imprisoned, so it's likely that his guilt over the situation was genuine.

Basically here we have someone who does not handle emotions well. Possibly an environmentally learned trait from growing up with the kind of parents that burn pictures of you and loudly declare you're not welcome at home anymore yet never actually disown you from their will...can't say for sure, but...ya' know...

Goblet of Fire: After the immediate chaos of breaking out of prison fades and Sirius has a support group of friends who know and believe he's innocent, he gets to transition a bit, and we see that he is also very protective and eager to be involved. He has a couple moments where he goes full Dad-mode on Harry, and I have a sneaking suspicion that Dumbledore finding him a good hiding spot in Hogsmeade was less of a "hey Sirius come hang out near the school" thing and more of an "okay I know I can't stop you from getting as close to Harry as possible, will you please at least stay in this safe hiding spot I found for you?" concession.

We also see Sirius criticizing Barty Crouch Sr. for not being there for his son. Sirius is able to connect the dots and comes to the logical conclusion that much of Barty Crouch Jr.'s behavior is the fault of his father for being uncaring in the first place. He sees that those around the Death Eaters do--in some cases--bear some blame for not paying attention, for not reaching out, and for ultimately setting them up to join Voldemort. Yet...Sirius does not seem willing to connect this realization to his own treatment of Severus Snape, his younger brother, or even Peter Pettigrew.

Order of the Phoenix: This is where we get the most of his character, I feel, and some of it is subtle. I'll admit that 90% of my characterization of Sirius as actually caring deeply for his brother comes from the sixth chapter:

"...my idiot brother, soft enough to believe them..."

...

"Was he killed by an Auror?" Harry asked tentatively.

"Oh no," said Sirius. "No, he was murdered by Voldemort...from what I found out after he died, he got in so far, then panicked about what he was being asked to do."

Harry asks if Regulus has been killed. And as Sirius corrects his assumptions about Reg being offed by an Auror, he also corrects the verb, from killed to murdered. And generally you don't describe a just killing as a murder. Death Eater or not, Sirius didn't think his brother deserved to die. He also admits that he went actively looking for information about Regulus. Again not the mark of someone who doesn't care.

And while I would describe Sirius as immature, that does not mean he was completely without maturity. He takes a lot of hits in this book, a lot of very harsh words get flung his way. He has to deal with Snape's constant snide remarks about how cowardly Sirius is for staying at home cleaning all day instead of fighting Voldemort, hell, he has to sit there and let the Weasley twins call him a coward to his face just because they're upset that their father has been injured and they're angry that Sirius is safe under house arrest while their parents aren't.

And all this because he's still a wanted fugitive, unable to venture outside safely. He wants to fight but can't. Powerlessness and depression hit him hard in this book.

In the chapter where Harry dives into Snape's pensieve we get our one and only 'objective' view of Sirius as a teenager, where it becomes clear that he was arrogant, handsome, talented, and very popular. He also liked to start altercations. This is actually our first big fissure between Harry and Sirius, and between Harry and his dad.

While James and Sirius are shown as going out of their way to pick fights with someone they don't like, Harry is such a passive and much more emotionally aware character that this causes significant pain to him. To find out that Sirius and James really were bullies is a big blow to Harry, who would never behave that way. He spent most of his childhood being bullied, after all, and I think that in that memory, Harry realized just how much more he identified with Snape as opposed to his own father and godfather and that really freaked him out.

Not to mention how uncomfortable it is to realize that these "bullies" were people Harry loved. Because once you have to come to terms with finding out someone you respect and love has done something cruel, it leaves your opinions on others shaky. This moment wasn't just about making Harry realize there was a "bad side" to Sirius and James, but also the first step towards helping him understand there may be a good side to people like Dudley Dursley or Draco Malfoy.

Sirius is quick to dismiss his past mistakes, he rarely owns up to them. This doesn't mean he's got no conscience, just that he--once again--does not deal with emotions easily. He clearly doesn't respond to his own guilt very well. So he brushes off his treatment of Snape and even his dismissal of his own family. In Sirius's mind, he and James are "allowed" to have matured out of their past bad behaviors and deserve to not be criticized for them...yet Sirius is unwilling to extend this grace to others. Everyone else around him is permanently stuck as how he first perceived them.

Sirius never finding out the full truth of Regulus's death is a huge disappointment to me, as I would have loved to have seen how he reconciled his inability to change his mind about his family with such an obvious act of heroism.

Ultimately book 5 shows that Sirius is, like a lot of us, very susceptible to "being a good person in theory". He very easily falls prey to cruel behaviors against "bad" people. He treats Kreacher the house elf terribly and uses his position as Kreacher's master to control and belittle him, using it almost as an opportunity for revenge against his family for what must have been a rough childhood. Yet he would never do that if Kreacher were nice to him.

It's a sort of complicated hypocrisy. Sirius treats people based on his personal feelings towards them, not based on what is right. Snape was "a little oddball up to his eyes in the Dark Arts", and that is how Sirius justifies his and James's behaviors. The reality is that Sirius wanted to be good, clearly saw himself as a hero, and was more than willing to die to protect the people he loved (he literally does die in this book to help Harry). But he still gave into the same kind of selfish cruelty he complained about growing up with.

It's not just that he was "an idiot at the age of fifteen", as he describes it. Most of us were. Anyone who claims they were always an enlightened progressive-minded justice fighter constantly standing up for the marginalized is just not remembering age twelve very well. The true mark of Sirius's character is that he can't handle the guilt. When the topic comes up, he hides from it, brushing people off quickly and making excuses. He is unable to openly and honestly confront his own mistakes.

Sirius himself told Harry "the world isn't split into good people and Death Eaters" and those are probably the wisest words in the whole series. Yet...he was unable to actually live by those words.

Do as I say and not as I do, right? Lol.

Ultimately this character flaw was his downfall. The climax of book 5--and consequently Sirius's death, as well--comes as a direct result of Kreacher's betrayal, a betrayal he was only able to pull off because Sirius, in one of his many fits of anger towards the elf, ordered him "OUT."

He was definitely one of the good guys. I'm not here with any edgy take about how Sirius was somehow worse than the literal wizard nazis. But also...he wasn't perfect, either, and he did and said some very bad things.

A lot of people I think find comfort in that binary split, where characters are either perfect angels or the worst monsters ever. And the meta that get the most clicks are going to be the ones that take those crazy stances of "'[Character You Hate] is Actually a Perfect Angel and Here's Why" or vice versa.

I know that I personally used to write like that, as well. It's actually a touch painful to look back at some of my earliest writings and see just how badly they lacked any nuance...(but boy did I feel like I was making some serious Statements(tm) at the time lol). So it's safe to say my idea of Sirius has definitely grown with time. As have my interpretations of the rest of the characters, too. The more life experiences you have, the better context you can bring to the stories you read. The more diverse people you meet, the more you can start to understand. As your real world grows, so too do the fictional worlds you read about.

So that's my idea of Sirius Black in a very large nutshell. This is the first time I've ever spit all these thoughts out at one time and it was fun to do!

I've seen a lot of different interpretations of Sirius's character over the years and I hope I didn't come across as dissing on any of them. What the reader brings to the table is key. My ideas of why Sirius did the things he did is heavily influenced by my experiences with friends and members of my own family. And the specific areas where my stories jump off from canon into my own little world is equally born of my own life. They come from my memories and from my interests. What ideas I personally like to explore. So when I see someone else's fanfic be just radically off base from how I would have ever conceived of writing the character...I get it.

He's not a real person. So no matter how you see him you can't really be wrong. Each different Sirius Black that pops up on tumblr or Ao3 is just a little window into what's interesting or important to that author.

っ◕‿◕)っ ♥

Love, Ten

#sirius black #maurauders #sirius x regulus #harry potter #tenkuroi #meta #character analysis #ao3 #fanfiction

25 notes · View notes