#I can't think of the last game I cared about enough to play that was space related

[echobx]

Birthday Schenanigans - JJ Maybank × fem!reader

summary: it's y/n's birthday and she gets distracted while playing a game with her friends, just for JJ to take care of her soon after

word count: 969

warnings: smut, edging, thigh riding, fingering

author's note: I wrote this around this time last year, and decided to give it a new home outside my wip folder. It's a little bumpy bc it's one of the first things I ever wrote, but I think it's still okay.

kinktober masterlist

Without thinking about what you are actually doing, you roll your hips back to lean forward and hand Kie the pen. JJ's leg presses against you, the friction of the jeans against your panties and the light pressure feels incredible. Your mind is clouded by the weed and the warm feeling that started building in your core. You crave a release. Any release. And this is just too perfect to not try it out. Over the next half hour or so, basically the whole duration of the stupid game, you grind on his leg. Very slowly and carefully so that no one but the two of you notices. Small motions that bring you just enough pleasure to keep going, but not enough to actually make you finish. Every once in a while, he tips his leg for a few seconds and stops again. You gasp the first time he does it, and your friends all look at you for a moment before continuing with the game. Keeping a straight face and not making the slightest sound is incredibly difficult, but you manage it anyway. 

If you weren't focusing so hard on not showing your lewd actions, you might have heard the knock on the door when your friends do. JJ’s hand moves from your back to your stomach, and he pulls you back to sit fully in his lap. You can feel his warm breath on your neck and his left hand intertwined with your own. Leaning his head against yours is making a shiver run down your spine. "You can stop fucking my leg now. Someone is here for you," he whispers into your ear, and you bite your lip, before recalling the last words he said. "Who?" you turn to look at him. There is a spark in his eyes that you haven't seen in him all night. A lustful glimmer, as if your little game messed him up more than yourself, if that is even possible. You feel the need to kiss him; his soft and demanding lips. To feel him inside you in the only socially acceptable way for the situation you are in. Anything would suffice. Even just a gentle brush of his hand against your cheek or the small circles he likes to draw on your skin. Just him for you, nothing else. You don't bother for who is at the door. It could be Santa Claus and you wouldn't give a fuck. All you can think of are the very dirty things you want to do to your boyfriend. 

"Get up, or I'm not going to let you do whatever you are thinking about," he whispers against your lips and gently pushes you off him. The sudden loss of his presence makes you more dizzy than the thoughts that still haunt your mind. You shake your head, trying to sort your thoughts before opening the door. "Pizza and beer is all the gift I can offer," John B says from behind a huge mountain of boxes. You have to laugh while guiding him inside, your mind suddenly freed from the lust that captivated it just moments prior. He puts the boxes down on the kitchen counter and hugs you, "happy birthday." "Thanks bro," you wink at him, taking a slice of pizza and going into your room to change, not wanting to sit in wet underwear all night. 

The door behind you closes, and you are pushed against the closet, hands above your head and JJ’s hips pressed against yours. He kisses you with so much passion and tenacity that you forget why you even went into your room. You know it wasn't to do this, but you can't for the life of you remember what.  "Don't ever do that again unless we're alone. I don't want anyone seeing you like that, not even them," he breathes against you, and you nod, biting your puffy lips. "Keep your arms up." A silent order that you are more than willing to follow. Not sure what exactly is to happen now, but with the impression that it will be worthwhile. He opens your jeans and pulls your panties down with them, letting you step out of both. "Fuck," his fingers grace over your swollen cunt. "You are way too wet for how little movement you got. What did you think of while doing it?" You gasp as he pushes his long fingers into you. "Tell me what you thought of," he demands again. "You. How you would punish me. How you punished me before," you have to bite your lip so you don't moan, not wanting your friends to hear what you are doing. "I could do it now. Not make you come, let you sit in anticipation for another hour before I let you wreck me," he whispers and kisses you again, not just to kiss you, but also to muffle the lustful moan that you can't hold back at that moment. "Promise to show me how that new toy works, and I'll let you finish." His quiet whispers are followed by another kiss and even more choked moans while he keeps fingering you. His thumb is playing with your clit while you try to stay contained. "Promise me,” JJ rasps in your ear. "I do. I promise. Please," you beg for your release, and he kisses you again while finally allowing you to let go of the tension that had nested in your stomach for the last few hours. JJ pulls away as soon as your legs are done shaking and picks up your slip, using it to wipe off most of what spilled out of you. "You need clean underwear," JJ smiles, proud of his work, and then he leaves you standing in your room, panting and flushed and completely exhilarated. 

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

taglist: @redhead1180 @spideysimpossiblegirl @drwstarkeyy @princessmaybank @ijustwantttoread @kys4-20 @immyowndefender @julczimozart @m2m2m2 @mochimms @dorkyfangirl24 @itsme-again @maybankslover @th3eternalersi @jjmaybankssurfergf

[hedgiwithapen]

Leverage: the trampoline job

(Sometimes the titles of these jobs is literal, and sometimes it’s a metaphor… this is the latter. AU of the Big Bang Job!) “There’s just one problem,” Moreau said, the tip of his polished shoe pressed against Hardison’s chair. “I don’t believe you.”

He kicked, sending the chair backwards into the pool with a splash. Eliot kept his face blank, a grift to make even Sophie proud.

“Eliot, you really think I’m that stupid? That I didn’t look for you after you ran?” Moreau chided. “In Serbia two years ago, at that orphanage…Moscow last fall. So I may not know exactly the game you’re playing, but I know you’re no middleman.”

Eliot’s throat tightened. This was why he’d brought Hardison, not Sophie. His plans burned, one after another till he got to L. 

“That’s Alec Hardison,” he said. “And if you’ve ever believed anything I’ve told you, believe that you want him alive.”

He jumped into the water, hoping the intrigue would be enough to stay Chapman’s trigger finger and still expecting a bullet in his back. 

Hardison was sputtering when he got him above water, choking on the chlorine. Eliot dragged him to the side of the pool, using the ladder for leverage to boost Hardison and the chair both out before clambering up himself, keeping in front of his friend. 

"I'm listening," Moreau said. "walk me through why, exactly, I shouldn't let my man here kill you both."

"Eliot," Hardison warned.  Eliot ignored him.

"If you know what I've been up to, you know who he is." He kept his voice even. An act, but one he'd perfected. 

"A hacker," Moreau dismissed. "But one you'd die for."

"Not just a hacker," Eliot said, ignoring the back half of the statement and hating how easily Moreau read it. "The best."

He could feel Hardison behind him, pride and confusion at war. He pressed on. 

"Vector's out, and he was never much of a player. Keller's gone.  They can't hide your money, can't move it either. Hardison can move it like a kid moves checkers on a board. Not a chance anyone catches on, if he's working for you.  You won't have to pay out in bribes, either.  You want him."

"And He came here looking for a job?" Moreau asked. "I find that hard to believe, too."

"He'll do it." Eliot said. The bitter sharpness in his voice isn't all for show. "He's a geek. Half of what he cares about is proving he can do it. The other half is staying alive. He's not stupid. He knows what you can do."

"Yeah, I'm learning all kinds of new things today, traitor," Hardison spit. 

Eliot took the barb like the blow it was.

"Well. Color me intrigued, then." Moreau's smile curdled Eliot's blood, but there wasn't anything for it.  This was why he brought Hardison.

There was always a chance things broke down, and Hardison was the one he could keep alive. Chapman grabbed the back of the chair, dragging it and Hardison through the door the models went through. “Let’s chat logistics,” Moreau said. Eliot eased his heart rate, trying not to picture the look on Hardison’s face. Fury and… god. Heartbreak. There wasn’t another word for it. “Let’s,” he agreed, like it was the easiest thing in the world to say, and not poison in his mouth. 

The team always recovered, bounced back, like Parker on a trampoline. They figured out a new plan, a new trick, something last-ditch and crazy. They'll manage it. Hardison's the one they can get back. 

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

Of my 2% capacity to be attracted to anyone, my type is like 90% women, 5% pretty men and 5% men you would swear are super fucking manly, and never questioned being straight and cis, but are now suddenly *stressed* that they can't figure out why their attraction to me [fully socially interpreted as a woman and labelled that way up until relatively recently] feels incredibly fucking gay

[venacoeurva]

I save so much money on video games because so many new ones are about space and I just cannot make myself care about games about space that aren’t like. (early) Spore because the concept just loses my interest in like 5 minutes

[mayspicer]

Ok, the boss is no more! There were some super stressful moments but surprisingly we all survived o:

My animal companion got hit with disintegrate, but we had hero points to make him avoid it. I would cry actually, because disintegrate means no resurrection x_x

The war is prevented! At least this one, because Cayden's party is right at the center of a much bigger one just starting. Today we saved the country. Cayden is trying to not even save the whole world, just maybe slow the whole thing down and save as much people as possible...

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Want Some Help? | Jeon Jungkook One Shot

Summary: When your boyfriend can't seem to satisfy you anymore your roommate decides to lend a helping hand. Pairing: f!reader x Jungkook (crackhead roommate energy) Word Count: 4.7k (got a little carried away but when don't I 😂) Warnings: Explicit language, smut and cheating. He spits in her mouth at the end lol and hella pet names. Aight that's all you're getting lol gotta read the rest to find out. a/n: This is the last thing I'll be posting before I go on a little hiatus. I'll make a post in a couple of days to explain but I'll let this circulate a bit before I do. I hope you enjoy it! (barely edited lol) Requested by a lovely anon 💜

The sounds in my room are obscene to say the least, more from Brian's side than mine today though. I don't know what it is but something about him isn't doing it for me anymore. Is it the fact that I have a new Adonis for a roommate? Perhaps, but Brian's need to overcompensate for it makes situations like these even more awkward than they need to be. 

"You like that?" he asks, him being so close to cumming with me barely working my way up to it. "Yeah" I respond breathily, trying my best to play the part so this can hopefully be over sooner rather than later. "Fuck" he groans at the sight and sound of my little gasp when he just barely hits that spot but I know he won't be able to figure out how to do it again. 

Brian isn't a selfish lover but the dynamic between us has changed ever since Jungkook moved in... 

He hasn't been as focused on me which now that I think about it is pretty damn selfish. I'm just making excuses for him at this point. He's more focused on his ego and playing it up for my roommate than he is into loving his girlfriend. I don't know how much longer I can be in this relationship if he keeps acting like this. 

"Shit I'm close, are you?" he asks and I nod my head furiously, thanking whoever might've been listening to my plea and seconds later he's cumming inside the condom and I do my best to copy the moan that I let out when he's actually done a good job at satisfying me and it seems to be convincing enough since he's giving me that cocky grin before he kisses me again. 

"You wanna shower?" he asks and I shake my head, "You go ahead, I'll shower later. Plus, didn't you say you had work early tomorrow morning? I'll let you get cleaned up in peace so you can head out" I say and he nods his head before going to the bathroom and throwing me a towel before closing the door and turning on the shower. 

Luckily he didn't try to clean me up because there's definetly not much to clean since I didn't cum.

Once I'm finished and I've made myself somewhat presentable I put on my robe and head out into the kitchen to grab myself a glass of water. "Have fun?" my roommate says from the living room couch as I pass by on my way to the kitchen. "Shit Jungkook you scared me" I say, holding my hand to my chest. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to. Have a good time tonight?" he asks again, his eyes dragging up and down my form, lingering on my chest and when I look down I see that my nipples are very visible unbeknownst to me since I hadn't cared to think about the fact that Jungkook might've come home. 

I wrap my robe tighter around me and cross my arms as I head into the kitchen. "Yes I did thank you very much. Did you?" I spit out quickly, hoping to avoid talking about my sex life with him. "It was alright. I had a long week so I decided to turn in early but um..." he trails off as he watches Brian walk down the hallway and into the kitchen, giving Jungkook a stern look before coming over to talk to me. 

"You alright?" he asks before placing a way too intimate kiss on my lips in front of Jungkook who I see has turned his head back to the TV and isn't bothering to pay attention to the game Brian is trying to play with him. "Yeah I'm fine. Are you heading out?" I ask, very hopeful that this visit will come to an end and thankfully luck is on my side this time. 

"Yeah I gotta get going but I'll come over again soon" he says, looking over at Jungkook before giving me one last kiss and heading towards the door to put on his shoes. "Text me when you get home!" I say and he winks at me before walking out leaving me rolling my eyes once the door is shut. 

I slump against the counter, glad it's finally over and when I look back over at Jungkook he's not too interested in whatever he has playing on the TV anymore, his focus solely on me. 

"What?" I ask him, brows scrunched together and trying to figure out what his deal is. "Why'd you fake it?" he asks and I choke on my spit, caught off guard by the unfiltered question. "Excuse me?" I ask, scandalized that he had been listening enough to even catch onto something like that. 

"You probably wanted it to be over huh?" he asks, assuming what the answer was and unfortunately that was the case but I'm not letting him have the satisfaction of being right. "I don't know what you're talking about" I say, turning on the sink to fill up my cup again but before I can even pull it out from under the tap he's taking it out of my hand. 

"Hey!" I call out, trying to grab it but he holds it just out of reach. "Can't keep you satisfied anymore?" he asks raising a brow at me, a smug look on his face since it seems he can read me like a book based off of my body language alone. "He keeps me very satisfied thank you very much, not that it's any of your business" I say and reach for my cup which he thankfully relinquishes. 

"I know you're lying" he say and I cock a brow at him, not knowing how he could possibly know the truth. "Oh yeah? What makes you say that?" I press, placing the cup on the counter and crossing my arms over my chest, forgetting the fact that I'm completely naked under this and giving him a better view of my cleavage. 

"You're not very quiet when you do it by yourself you know. What do you use? A dildo? One of those little roses? Maybe both?" he questions leaning in closer to me and making my eyes bug out of my head. "How did yo-" "These walls are paper thin doll, so believe me when I say that I can hear every little thing you do to yourself in there. But please, don't stop. I would hate to be deprived of that pretty little voice of yours even though it is quite distracting sometimes" he says, grabbing my cup and holding it between us as a clear invitation to leave if I so desire. 

I take it and rush back to my room, slamming the door behind me and I can hear him chuckle from the kitchen. Fuck he really wasn't kidding when he said these walls are thin.

I flop down onto my bed facedown and scream into my pillow, utterly mortified that he's heard me ever since he got here. I need to wear a muzzle at this rate  since there's no way I'm stopping just for his sake. A girl's got needs and if Brian isn't going to fulfill them then I've gotta do it myself. 

I get up off my bed after I finish my little temper tantrum and change the sheets before taking my robe off and jumping in the shower to hopefully wash off all of Brian's scent. I can't stand to think about him anymore especially after what Jungkook said about him...

After finishing up my shower and drying off my hair I reach into my drawer to get my tried and true rose bud to help me out tonight. Yes he guessed right but I'll be damned if I ever let him see it.

I lay down and try to turn it on and after I've used it for a minute or two it just shuts off. "Fuck" I groan out, forgetting the fact that I had forgotten to grab new batteries for it. The TV remote has the same size batteries right? It's worth a shot to go check since I'm pretty sure he's gone to bed already. 

Walking out to the living room in my robe again I'm met with Jungkook still sitting on the couch watching the same thing he had been when I first came out here. 

I try to turn back around once I've seen him but he stops me by asking me if I needed something. "I just wanted to borrow the batteries from the remote but you're still using it so no worries" I say and try to leave but he stops me again. "I'm pretty sure I bought a new pack of batteries not too long ago" he says and I sheepishly admit I used the last of them. 

"Oh okay well here, I can just finish this up on my laptop" he says while taking the batteries out and putting them in my hand, giving me the source of my pleasure for tonight. "T-thanks" I stutter and close my finger around them as if they would disappear if I let them go. "Is everything okay?" he asks and I nod my head while walking down the hallway, not knowing that he's hot on my heels. 

"What do you need the batteries for?" he asks as we're a few feet away from my door making me jump. "Didn't know I was behind you?" he chuckles and I glare at him, hoping that'll make him back off but it does the exact opposite, causing him to smirk and glance around my room and soon notices the rosebud that I stupidly left in the middle of my bed. 

"I was right" he smirks leaving me groaning and rolling my eyes as I storm into my room, not bothering to close the door since I know he's not going to leave me alone anytime soon. 

"What? You know I'm just teasing you. You're free to do as you please doll, I'm not gonna stop you. I was even nice and paused my movie so you can have your fun too" he says, leaning against my doorframe and since he's being shameless I will too, deciding to switch the batteries out and turn it on to check but unfortunately it does the same thing and dies less than thirty seconds after I turn it on.

"Shit" I curse under my breath and he stifles his laughter by covering his mouth. "Yeah yeah laugh it up. You're just lucky all you need is your right hand to get off. Can you just leave me alone?" I ask, laying back down on my bed, exacerbated and ready to call it a night since the odds have flipped again. My good luck for the night being Brian's quick departure. 

I don't pay attention to how high my robe has ridden and it seems as though one of my legs has slipped through the gap giving him a full view of my upper thigh and hip, one wrong move leaving me exposed to him. 

He gulps but I don't bother to notice and only do when he clears his throat. "What do you want?" I say, throwing my arm over my face trying to hide the shame that all of this has caused me but fail miserably. "Want some help?" he asks and I sit up right away at his words, "What?" I ask, my reaction as dramatic as if he had grown two heads. 

"Do you want some help? I can get you off real quick if you'd like? It'll be like one roomie helping the other" he offers as causally as if he had asked to borrow five bucks. "You're joking, right?" I scoff but it seems as he very well is not as he take a step into my room and he watches for signs for protest but I give him none. 

"Not really no. I'm simply offering to help a friend in need. That's what we are right? Friends?" he questions as he takes a step closer. 

He calls out my name when I've stayed silent for a while, not being able to take my eyes off him even if I tried. As long as he stays in this room he's got my attention. "R-right, friends" I respond and he takes a seat on my bed, a respectful distance away but it feels as if he was already on top of me. 

"But Brian-" "Doesn't need to know" he says, cutting me off and making it harder and harder for me to say no. He scoots closer to me and takes the rosebud out of my hands, unbothered by what it's used for and simply places it on the nightstand next to me. "It's your move" he says, leaning closer to me, his breath fanning my face and I look at his eyes, mine going back and forth before his look down at my lips. 

"Tell me to stop" he says, making things easier for me but when he's mere millimeters away I lean in. 

It's soft and sweet at first, our lips connecting and breaking a few times, still giving me an opening to pull away and say stop but after a few more kisses like that he deepens the kiss. While keeping our lips locked for longer he angles his head a bit more, his tongue now in my mouth and soon he beckons me to do the same and I do which gives him even more of a green light. 

He places his hand on my cheek and angles me just right before he switches up and presses down on my shoulder a little and leans in closer as a silent plea for me to lay down. 

I crawl back on the bed instead and he follow as I lay down on the pillows with him hovering over me. "Fuck been thinking about this view for a long time" he admits and before I can say anything in response his lips are already on mine again.

"Can I take this off?" he asks, toying with the tie that is seconds from coming undone of it's own accord. "Yeah" I say, adrenaline pumping through my veins at the thought of doing this, of cheating with my roommate who is someone I won't be able to run away from after this.

He pulls the belt and in one smooth motion it's undone.

The way he looks at me as he takes both sides of the robe off of my body is a sight that could make me cum untouched if given the chance. Watching his eyes darken up as they roam all over my body until he's tracing them back up to mine where it's as if a whole new man is hovering over me, one that looks so insatiable and ready to break me at any moment. 

"Fuck you're so pretty" he say, leaning back down to kiss me but soon trails his lips down my neck and to the valley between my breast. He settles on kissing one of them and slowly brings his lips closer to my nipple where he looks up at me for permission which I give right away. He smirks and puts his thumb and pointer fingers into his mouth making them wet. He places them on the opposite one twisting and toying with it before he places his mouth on the one in front of him. 

Once his lips make contact my fingers immediately lace through his hair, needing to ground myself with something and he hums around in in approval when I tug on it a bit. 

"You sensitive here doll?" he asks when he lets go of it, the cool air causing a chill when it hits my damp skin, him having made a mess of it from his clear desire to do this. I let out a whimper in response and he nips at it before switching to my other breast to give it the same time and attention he gave the first.

My hips start to buck up after a couple more seconds of him switching between my breasts and lips when he hears those pretty voices he had talked about before, wanting to taste them on his tongue this time. 

"Someone's eager" he says against my lips but I turn my face to the side leaving him kissing the column of my neck until I'm squirming about leaving him smiling against my skin. 

"Does my doll want more?" he asks and I whimper in response, not being able to bring myself to utter words of confirmation when I have a man like him already causing me so much pleasure, but it's not enough. 

I need more.

"Jungkook please" I breathe out, done with this teasing and so worked up already from not gaining release earlier. "Please what?" he asks trailing his lips back up to mine and kissing them one last time before pulling back and waiting for my answer. "Please help me cum" I plead, wanting what he had promised me earlier. 

He chuckles dryly and places a kiss on the corner or my mouth before responding. "Here I am taking my time with you but you still only want one thing. Don't you like it when I play with you like this?" he asks, trailing middle finger down my torso until he's come in contact with my clit, sliding further down past it and checking to see what my true physical reactions have been to his ministrations. 

"Seems like you do" he says, circling around my entrance with that same finger when he feels how wet I am. "This all for me?" he asks and close my eyes once he's dipped one of his fingers in while using his thumb to draw circles around my clit but once my breathing picks up a bit everything stops. 

"What?" I pant, confused as to why he would stop. "I asked you a question. Is this all for me y/n?" he rasps, looking down at where his fingers had once been and cursing when he notices how wet they are. "Y-yes, all for you" I choke out and he leans in as if he was going to kiss me but stops before I can even brush my lips against his. 

"Can you say my name princess?" he whispers, posed as a question but we both know the only way this continues is if I comply. "Jungkook" I whisper out, his name now tasting different on my tongue. It's almost if I have to put more effort into pronouncing each letter, my throat suddenly running dry. 

"Louder doll. It's the least you can do to help me forget how you've moaned his name in here time and time again. Probably another sad excuse of an act to fake your high" he says, going back to playing with my center, his finger going in and out at a faster rate now before easing his way into putting in a second one. 

"Fuck Jungkook" I groan, this time a little louder than before that grants me a kiss on my neck, his motives to stay away from my lips being to hear all of my reactions to what he's doing to me. Wanting to discover new sounds and reactions that sound more genuine and are ones that I can't even hope to hold back with the pleasure he's giving me.

"That's it, keep going. Want your voice to be the thing I remember most about this, hear it over and over again, ingrained in my memory. That way when I forget how you taste it'll be something that I'll still be able to come back to. Hearing how I make you feel, not yourself and definetly not your sorry excuse of a boyfriend, me. Let me hear how I make you feel" he rasps in my ear making me shiver and arch my back off the mattress. 

"Jungkook please, please" I beg, my ego gone, the only thoughts in my head being him and how incredible it'll feel once he's made me cum. "Just like that doll, scream my name if you need to, I don't mind" his calm cool and collected tone of voice driving me mad. How can he be whispering these things in my ear and taunting me like this while I'm a complete mess under him, barely being able to breathe let alone think straight. 

I pulse around his fingers and he can tell that I'm close when I let out a moan after he hits a certain spot, hitting it over and over again, knowing that that's going to be the thing that'll make me come undone. 

He leans back and looks down at me, his flushed cheeks and swollen lips make me insane, his calm and cool façade in my mind broken when I see the way he's watching me. Taking in every gasp, every moan, every whimper of his name and it makes him want to try even harder to get me to that high, needing to see what I look like when I cum.

"Just like that doll, you're doing so well, sound so pretty" he murmurs and with a few more words of encouragement I'm coming undone. When I try to look away he grabs my chin and makes me keep eye contact, making everything seem even more intense. 

Once the rising and falling of my chest has slowed down and his playful fingers inside me gain him whines of overstimulation he finally takes them out. 

I expect him to get up and wash his hands but instead places them in his mouth, moaning once my taste hits his tongue leaving me swallowing dryly, needing that glass of water now. 

"Open your mouth" he says after he takes his fingers out and I comply curiously, doing as he asks and the next moment I feel him spitting in my mouth before smashing his lips on mine one last time. 

After kissing me senseless and exhaustion flooding my system my kisses become sloppy and he laughs against my lips before finally pulling back. "Where are you going?" I ask and he laughs again at my groggy state. “I'm going to go get a towel to clean you up" he says and I sit up quickly, my mind slowly clearing up. 

"Wait, what about you?" I ask, taking note of the tent in his pants but he simply chuckles and brings back a warm towel just like he said.

I had expected the same treatment Brian gave me today but when I try to reach for it he pulls back. "No you lay down, you're still out of it" he says, trying to be serious but also satisfied that he only had to use his fingers put me in this state. 

After he finishes cleaning me up he gets up and throws the towel in the laundry basket and comes back to sit on the bed next to me, cupping my face and studying my features. "You okay?" he asks, clearly sensing regret already. 

"Yeah I'm fine. I just never thought I would do something like this" I admit and he mouths a quiet 'Oh' and takes his hand off me but I grab it before he can get too far. "I'm sorry I'm just confused and clearly not thinking straight" I say, trying to backtrack knowing that I've hurt him by saying that. 

"Thank you for doing this for me" I say timidly and he laughs. "What?" I ask, clearly not understanding what about this situation is funny. 

"I'm sorry" he says, his laughing soon dying down and I wait in silence until he's finally composed himself. "I'm sorry it's just that it’s not everyday that your hot roommate thanks you for finger fucking them" he chuckles and my cheeks heat up, thoroughly embarrassed now that he's put it like that.

I reach behind me and grab a pillow and throw it at his face which makes him laugh even more. "Jungkook stop this isn't funny" I whine and he stops a couple minutes later. "Alright alright I'm sorry, you were just getting way too serious about it" he explains and wipes away a fake tear. 

"This is serious! I just cheated on my boyfriend with you" I exclaim and he shakes his head, placing the pillow I threw at him out of my reach and sighs before responding. "You and I both know that you've been ready to end that relationship for a while now" he says and I open my mouth but the words die in my throat.

"That's what I thought" he says and we sit there in silence for a moment while I pull the sheet over me. "Just break up with him already, I can clearly see that you're miserable" he points out and I hate that he's right. 

"Why do you care? Should I break up with him so I can mess around with you?" I ask and he shrugs his shoulders. "We can do that if you want to, but from a friend's point of view I think your life is so much better without him" he says and I sigh, knowing again that he's right, telling me the things that I've thought about over and over again but just never did anything about. 

"I'll talk to him" I say and he nods his head. "Good because with the number I did on your neck he's definetly gonna know that something went down" he laughs and my eyes go wide, forgetting to tell him to not leave any marks but I know I'm fucked. 

"Here" he says, grabbing the hand mirror I have on my dresser and I know from one glance that hoodies and turtlenecks will be my new signature look until this all clears up.

"Jungkook" I growl and he giggles, never taking my scolding tone seriously. "What? Don't act like you didn't like it" he chuckles and I sit up, grabbing that pillow and throwing it at him again. "I hate you" I huff but he laughs again before placing a knee on my bed and making it dip under his weight. 

My breath hitches as he inches closer and I can't do anything but lay down, slowly trying to run away from his lips in my mind but falling back into that same position we had been in for who knows how long.

Once I'm flat on my back and he's hovering over me again I swallow as best as I can, making him let out a dry chuckle. "Wanna run that one by me again doll?" he asks, cocking a brow at me and I press my thighs together, hating myself for doing it but needing some sort of something to keep me sane but it's of no use.

He leans in closer and I hold my breath, not knowing what he's doing or where this is going but when I close my eyes I’m granted with that same chuckle again. 

"Goodnight princess" he says against my lips, his weight gone off my bed seconds later leaving me sitting up in process. "Wha-" "My pretty doll needs to figure out who she wants to play with if she wants more" he taunts and I cross my arms and pout a little, hoping that'll get him to come back. 

"Aw don't be like that. After all the work I put in to help you feel good. I thought you would've been more grateful, not greedy" he taunts and I roll my eye before uttering a quiet 'Goodnight'. "Thanks for giving me material to help me fix this" he says, looking down at the very clear outline of his hard on and I swallow again, intimidated from finally being able to see his full size. 

"I promise, if you make up your mind...I'll make it fit" he teases and winks at me granting him a scowl in response. He grabs the door handle at the same time I grab the pillow and throw it which he blocks by closing the door. "Goodnight doll" he says one last time and shuts it behind him. 

I spend the rest of my night willing myself to sleep and when I finally start to doze off I start hearing Jungkook's soft moans and grunts leaving me wide awake again. Now I really know he wasn't lying...

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[bats-and-the-birds]

I made a post involving young/feral/perceived cryptid Dick Grayson and someone tagged something about Barry Allen losing his mind when this terrifying child befriends his nephew and I have NOT stopped thinking about this since.

Because like, imagine you're Barry Allen. You've been doing this hero thing for a while, and you've seen a lot of things, but now your nephew has gotten himself wrapped up in this too, and goddamnit, you're worried because you know this life isn't easy.

Then he makes a friend - Ollie's boy, Roy Harper - and you breathe a little bit easier, because you know that however rough this life is, it's worse without friends. Besides, it's sweet. They're young boys, and they roughhouse, and tell stupid jokes, and play video games together sometimes. It's nice to see Wally just be a kid with someone that he doesn't have to hide from. And, yeah, sure, they get into trouble sometimes, pull pranks that go too far, get themselves in danger because they think they can take on something they can't, but it's still a net positive, because you need friends in this line of work, and that's exactly what they've found.

And you think about Robin. Not often, but you do think about him. Because you know nothing about him, and you don't want to, but he still has the face of a boy that's younger than your nephew. You wonder if he has friends.

But really, you don't think about him that much. You don't want to. He's freaky, and generally, thinking too hard about anything to do with the Bat is inadvisable.

Then there's a fight. A big one. You don't even really know who's fighting on your side until everything has cleared. It was basically the entire Justice League, no one dead, but a few injuried. And your nephew's there too. And Roy. And Robin.

No one really goes near Robin, ever. It was an unspoken rule, of sorts, and you're pretty sure it's just because everyone's scared of messing with Batman's little bird, though whether that was due to fear of Batman or the bird himself, you're not sure.

But Wally doesn't seem to know this. Wally doesn't seem to care. He runs up to Robin with a big grin on his face and grabs his hand, trying to tug him over to where Roy was patching up some injuries.

You notice that Robin doesn't go with him immediately. In fact, he looks confused. But if you know anything about your nephew, he's persistent, and eventually Robin lets himself be dragged over. Roy seems unconcerned, but you can tell that the other adults in the vicinity shift uncomfortably, unsure of what they should do, or if they should do anything at all.

It doesn't last long anyway. Batman calls for Robin and he bounds off, but you notice he stops and hesitantly waves a gloved hand at your nephew before he leaves. Wally waves back.

You don't think much of it.

Then, the next time you and Ollie catch Wally and Roy fighting something they shouldn't be, Robin's right there with them. It's the first time you've seen Robin without Batman in close proximity, and you think he looks just a little bit more human. He smiles sheepishly with the other boys when they're chastised for fighting things that they shouldn't, and you watch Roy ruffle his hair like there's nothing to be worried about. You're still worried.

You still don't think much of it though. Even when Robin's there with the two of them the next time, and the time after that.

But then, oh dear god, he's in your house. You don't actually notice him at first, for two whole hours, because it's normal to see Wally and Roy sitting on the couch and playing video games. You just don't realize that there's a third head in between them until you sit down in an adjacent armchair to see what they're playing, because Robin is just short enough that his head doesn't peak over the back of the couch.

You have to blink a few times to make sure what you're seeing is real, because nestled in between the two slightly older heroes in their civilian attire is Robin, sans his gloves, cape, and boots, but otherwise still in full uniform with his mask still firmly in place, holding a video game controller and laughing while Wally elbows his side to try to make him lose.

And you just sit back in your chair and stare, because what the hell are you even supposed to do in this situation? Your nephew has decided to make friends with Batman's goddamn son - the boy that you've seen sneak up on League members with super hearing, break a grown man's femur, and somehow fade into shadows in a bright yellow cape - and it worked. And now he's playing video games on your couch. And you don't know what to do about that.

[mcdynamite]

Kissing has never done all that much for Steve, if he’s honest.

It's just not really something he's ever given much thought to before - the way someone kisses - despite the fact that he's locked lips with plenty of people. For him, kissing has always been something nice, but not particularly special. It's never been earth-shattering. Never taken his breath away, the way people talk about in movies and books. It's just a way to be closer to someone, and it's nice, but it's never anything more than that.

Then, Steve kisses Eddie for the first time, and suddenly he gets it.

They're high when it happens, laying side by side in Eddie's unmade bed while the weed sinks into their bones. Steve loves the way it seems to slow down the world around them - makes everything syrupy and sweet, so he feels every brush of Eddie's fingers against his own in every inch of his body as they pass the joint back and forth.

The casual contact makes him long for more, and when he's high, Steve just...gives into the longing. He lets himself drift closer until they're pressed together so closely that Eddie can hide his face in Steve's uncharacteristically messy hair when he's trying to cover up a snort of laughter in response to Steve's deranged weed-induced musings.

Tonight, they meander their way through a directionless conversation - as they so often do when they get high together - until the joint is so small it nearly singes their fingertips. When Eddie finally sits up to stamp it out in the ashtray on the bedside table, Steve tries not to miss the feeling of Eddie's body against his own too much, knowing it'll be back soon enough.

"I'm thinking of handing over the DM throne to Will for the next oneshot, after we finish this campaign," Eddie says, speech slow and thoughtful as he puts out the blunt. "Think he'll be good at it."

Steve just hums, eyes heavy-lidded, gaze fixed on the curls he wants so badly to run his fingers through, just to know what it feels like. He's high enough to not care about the consequences when he decides fuck it, and reaches out to feel the soft ringlets beneath his fingertips.

"You're good at it," he muses - a delayed response to Eddie's comment. If Eddie is bothered by the way Steve is carefully petting his hair, he doesn't show it. Instead, he turns back to look down at Steve with a soft smile that makes Steve's insides feel all gooey.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, a hint of a smirk overtaking the softness. "You ready to admit that you like watching me play my little nerd game, Harrington?"

Steve blames the quiet whine that escapes his throat on the weed, along with the way he honest-to-God pouts in response to Eddie's words. He tugs on a lock of Eddie's hair petulantly. "Don't like it when you call me that."

Eddie's face does something strange then, and Steve can't quite parse out what it means with the weed making his brain all foggy. He looks...surprised? Fond? Maybe both?

"Sorry, Stevie," he replies, teasing but somehow genuine at the same time. Steve smiles dopily, an expression that Eddie returns. "That better?"

Satisfied, Steve nods. Hums in affirmation. "Yeah. I like that one."

And it's true. Steve loves when Eddie calls him Stevie, because Eddie always sounds so fond when he does, and it makes Steve's heart feel too big for his chest.

"Oh, yeah?" Eddie asks, still grinning as he leans down until he's propped up on one elbow, hovering just over Steve on the bed. "What else do you want me to call you, hm? Stevie? Steve? M'lord?"

The last one makes Steve laugh and close his eyes, happy to bask in the sound of Eddie's voice as he floats along with their conversation.

"Sir Steven? Sweetheart?" Eddie continues, and Steve's heart jumps just a bit at the second one. Then, Eddie murmurs, "Baby?" 

And Steve's eyes fly open.

Steve stares at his friend with wide eyes - lips parted as a soft, punched-out oh escapes him - and it's weird, is the thing. Because Steve has been called baby before, lovingly by his grandmother when he was still a little boy causing mischief while his parents weren't watching, meanly by boys on the playground when he cried over something silly like a scraped knee…and when he got older, teasingly by the girls he took on dates.

It's not a new name for him, but it feels groundbreaking nonetheless.

Because the word sounds so much better coming from Eddie's mouth than anyone else's. It's soft, and fond, and knowing, and...

It's longing.

"Yeah,” Steve croaks. "Yeah."

"Which one? Sir Steven?" Eddie asks playfully, cocking his head to the side like a puppy. He grins maniacally when Steve huffs and shakes his head in disappointment. "No? Which one was it, then, that you liked the most?"

"Eddieeee," Steve complains, burying his flushed face into the pillow and avoiding his friend's gaze. "You know which one."

Eddie shakes his head in an almost scolding manner and Steve is convinced he must've moved closer, because Steve can feel Eddie's breath against his skin, and the air in the room feels about a hundred degrees hotter.

"Nuh-uh, Stevie," Eddie says, poking him playfully in the ribs. "You gotta tell me which one."

Steve hesitates, feeling more and more self-conscious by the second. He sort of wants to hide, but he also really wants Eddie to call him that again. It's probably thanks to his intoxicated brain that he allows himself to answer truthfully. "Baby," he murmurs, uncharacteristically shy.

"Yeah?" Eddie says, voice and smile softening in tandem. "You like when I call you baby, Stevie?"

Steve stares up at him with wide eyes, hardly able to believe this is really happening, and nods. "Yeah. That one."

Eddie is so close, now, that Steve can feel the warmth that emanates from his skin; can see the flecks of gold in his eyes amongst the molten chocolate brown. He's got freckles - Steve realizes. Tiny little dots across the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks that form constellations on his skin. Steve thinks, maybe a bit deliriously, that he would be perfectly happy spending hours tracing them, the way astronomers of old once traced the stars.

"Eddie..." he breathes, heart pounding as he begins to feel more and more desperate for...for something. Anything to let him know that he's not the only one succumbing to the gravitational pull between them.

Eddie blinks slowly, and his eyes widen as though he's just realized something important. Steve watches his throat bob nervously before Eddie finally whispers, "Yeah, baby?"

Steve inhales sharply through parted lips - a soft, plaintive gasp that draws Eddie's eyes to his lips, and-

Oh.

That's what Steve wants, isn't it?

"I-" Steve tries, helpless to stop his own gaze from falling on Eddie's lips - pink and parted and just a little bit chapped, and so, so close.

"Baby," Eddie says again, and this time it's different. Unintentional. Like Eddie said it without meaning to. And maybe it's just the weed, but Steve swears he can feel the word burrowing its way into his chest and settling around his heart like a blanket. It makes his whole body feel warm - something only made worse by the hot coal of desire that begins smoldering low in his gut.

He's so lost in it all that he can't even bring himself to feel embarrassed when he whispers, "Please."

Steve waits with bated breath until finally, any remaining nervousness retreats from Eddie's eyes, and Eddie smiles in that way that makes Steve's stomach flutter. It's such a pretty smile. Steve can only watch as it grows closer, going cross-eyed for the briefest moment in his quest to to stare at Eddie's lips until suddenly his eyes are fluttering shut, because...because...

Because Eddie kisses him with lips still curled into a smile, and Steve thinks - utterly nonsensically - that feeling Eddie's lips against his own is so much better than just looking at them. The thought makes him giggle, just a bit, and he finds himself grinning into the kiss, too.

They part for a moment so Steve can let out another quiet giggle, and Eddie seems to pause for a moment, smiling down at Steve with poorly concealed affection. "Baby," he murmurs reverently, and then he's leaning down to capture Steve's lips in another kiss.

This time, Steve is ready for it, but it draws a muffled whimper out of him nonetheless. His nose fills with the scent of weed and cigarettes and cheap cologne - the smell of Eddie - and it's so overwhelmingly good. He lets his lips fall open on a gasp...doesn't close them when Eddie tentatively brushes his tongue against Steve's own. He shuts his eyes, because the press of Eddie's hand to his cheek and Eddie's chest to his own feel like so much more like that.

Eddie breaks the kiss to gasp in a breath, and inexplicably, that's what really sends every last bit of restraint in Steve's brain packing. It's so simple, so ordinary - the soft, quick sip of air Eddie takes in. It's a breathy little sound that Steve has heard from countless others before, but maybe that's why it puts him in this unfamiliar chokehold of wanting.

This isn't just anyone.

This is Eddie.

And Eddie is making those quiet, lovely little sounds because he's kissing Steve, and Steve is very rapidly realizing that he is utterly incapable of being normal about any of this.

He feels his cheeks go hot as he forces his heavy limbs to move so he can tangle his fingers in Eddie's curls, holding him close (because Steve thinks he might die if Eddie stops kissing him, now). And it's bliss. It's addictive. It's ruinously tender, and Steve feels himself unraveling from within. Feels the knots in his heart - left behind by absent parents, cruel friends, and distant girlfriends - turn to dust at the gentlest brush of Eddie's lips.

He whimpers into Eddie's mouth and clings to him even tighter, feeling his throat grow strangely tight as his eyes sting at the corners, and when Eddie pulls away he's got a small furrow in his brow, just under his bangs. 

"Stevie?" Eddie murmurs. His eyes dart to Steve's cheeks, and when he brushes his thumb along the skin just under Steve's eye, it drags a bit of wetness with it. Only then does Steve realize...he's crying.

And Eddie is wiping away his tears.

"I..." Steve croaks, eyes wide and spilling more tears with every blink. He drags his hands down from Eddie's hair to rest on his chest, beginning to curl into himself as the embarrassment sinks in.

Christ, he's crying. And all they've done is kiss.

Eddie's frown deepens, but he doesn't pull away completely. Instead, he lets their noses brush and breathes, "Baby..."

Steve's breath hitches.

"You're shaking, sweetheart," Eddie continues, still brushing Steve's tears away with gentle fingers. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Steve gasps hurriedly, because as far as he understands, it's the truth. "Nothing's wrong, I just..." He closes his eyes. Swallows the lump in his throat and admits with a trembling voice, "I didn't know it could be like this."

He opens his eyes and sees Eddie's expression soften, but the concern remains. "What do you mean?"

"I just..." Steve tries, sniffling and letting out a quiet, distressed laugh. He slams his eyes shut again and rubs them roughly with his palms, trying to force the tears back into his body. "Jesus, this is fucking embarrassing, man."

"Steve..." Eddie murmurs. He sounds sad. Conflicted. Like he's not sure what to do or how to help - if he should stay or go - and that just won't do, because Steve is certain he'll drift away on the breeze without Eddie to ground him. He's got to try to explain, even with his thoughts still feeling syrupy slow from the weed.

He wants to tell Eddie that he's kissed dozens of people before, but kissing them never felt like this. He wants to explain that he's used to taking the lead, and that it's nice having someone else set the pace, for once. He wants to tell Eddie about the way most people he's kissed have done so - frantically...lustfully. Kissing has always been a simple means to an end. And it's never made Steve feel like this.

What he actually manages to say is slightly different, though.

"No one's ever kissed me like they love me, before."

His eyes are still covered by his own hands, so he can't see what is surely a stunned expression on Eddie's face, but he can hear the way Eddie gasps in response to Steve's words.

It’s too much, he thinks. He's said too much, fast-forwarded too far into the movie. It's too early to be talking about love. Steve knows this. It's just...

His stupid, floaty little brain can't envision a world where someone kisses the way Eddie does without being hopelessly, irrevocably in love.

"Shit," Steve breathes after several minutes of silence. Or maybe it's several seconds. He really doesn't know. Time feels funny, when he's high. "I know that's, like, way too much. I'm too much. I don't know why I-"

"Steve," Eddie interrupts, and Steve snaps his mouth shut. He feels Eddie's hands wrap carefully around his wrists to pull them from his eyes. Eddie is being so careful with him...like he can't see that his tenderness is exactly the thing that’s ripping Steve apart at the seams.

Steve wants to scream. He wants to cry. He wants to drag Eddie back down and kiss him until he can't breathe. Until Eddie's sweetness becomes warm and comforting instead of feeling like the scalding heat of jumping into a hot tub after a dip in the cold waters of the pool.

"Baby, look at me," Eddie says softly.

Steve is helpless but to obey.

Eddie's gaze is sad but kind when Steve finally meets it with his own. He's got the barest hint of a smile on his pretty lips - the same ones Steve so desperately wants to feel against his own, again - and Steve feels his stomach swirl with something he can't quite describe.

"It's not too much," Eddie continues, voice steady. "And neither are you, okay? You, Steve Harrington, are never too much. Not to me."

The words settle over Steve like a blanket, and he can't decide whether it's comforting or suffocating. He just wants to stop talking about things so they can move on. He just wants Eddie.

"Eds..." he rasps desperately. "I don't- I just want-" He cuts himself off with the hitching breath of what may be a sob. He's not really sure, at this point.

"What can I do, honey?" Eddie says, and he really needs to stop with the pet names, or Steve might genuinely fracture into pieces. "What do you want?"

Steve is sunk too deep into the syrupy slow feeling of the weed - too desperate to feel Eddie pressed against him again - to do anything but tell the truth.

"Just want you," he says.

Eddie smiles - eyes crinkling at the corners - and Steve breathes the sight in like oxygen. "You have me, baby," Eddie murmurs. He's rubbing small, comforting circle into the sensitive skin of Steve's wrists now, and it's perfect. It's wonderfully, disgustingly perfect.

"I do?" Steve asks dumbly. His brain feels fifteen seconds behind everything, but he thinks that's probably okay. Eddie seems to be just fine waiting for him to catch up.

"Yeah, Stevie," Eddie chuckles quietly. "Had me for a long time, now. Just wasn't sure if you would want me the way I wanted you."

"You want me," Steve says breathlessly, more to himself than to Eddie. "You wanna kiss me."

Eddie's resulting laugh is a bit louder, a bit brighter, this time. "I do," he says. The sadness is fading from his eyes, giving way to something that looks an awful lot like elation. Steve remains still and watches, entranced, as Eddie carefully hauls himself up until he can swing a leg over Steve's to straddle him.

Still smiling broadly, Eddie leans down until their faces are mere inches apart, studying Steve with those big, brown eyes. "You gonna let me?" he asks Steve, a teasing lilt to his voice.

Steve nods, lips parted in surprise he can't quite seem to shake, and Eddie's expression softens.

"Gonna let me kiss you like I love you, Stevie?" Eddie whispers.

Steve's not sure when, exactly, his tears had begun to dry up, but he knows they must have at some point, because they're returning with a vengeance, now. "Please," he breathes.

Eddie shifts, and Steve expects Eddie to go right back to kissing him, but that's not what he does.

Instead, Eddie releases one of Steve's wrists and cups his cheek tenderly. This time, the feeling of his thumb brushing the tears away is a familiar one, and it makes Steve smile dopily.

"You know the reason I kiss you like I love you?" Eddie asks. Steve shakes his head and tracks Eddie's gaze as it drifts towards the place where his fingers are still wrapped around Steve's wrist. His lips quirk into a smile as he uses his grip to pin Steve's hand to the mattress, right beside Steve's head, and laces their fingers together.

Their noses are brushing, now, and Eddie's hips are resting on Steve's, and Eddie's hair has fallen around them like a curtain to keep the rest of the world out, and it's so much. Eddie is everywhere, and he's everything, and Steve is completely, unquestioningly in love with him - probably has been in love with him for ages, now, and just never let himself think too hard about it.

"I kiss you like I love you, Steve Harrington," Eddie breathes, and their lips brush as he speaks. "Because I love you."

And the thing is…Steve has spent his entire life wondering what it would feel like to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was loved. It's something that's eluded him for twenty years.

So it's all the more miraculous when Eddie kisses him again, and suddenly, Steve knows. He knows that Eddie Munson loves him. He feels it in the way Eddie kisses him slowly and deliberately, like it would never have crossed Eddie's mind not to. He feels it in their linked hands, in the way Eddie squeezes his hand when Steve makes a desperate, wanton sound into his mouth.

He feels it when Eddie brushes the hair out of his eyes and smiles before kissing Steve's forehead, then his nose, and then his lips again.

Feels it when Eddie's lips begin to wander down his neck.

When Eddie sucks a mark into the thin skin above his collar bone, just because Steve begs him too.

When Eddie pulls Steve's shirt over his head with careful hands, then lets Steve do the same, because Steve needs the intimacy of skin on skin.

He feels it when Eddie stops Steve's wandering hands from venturing too far south with a firm grip and apologetic eyes, because Eddie wants him - of course he does - but not when they've been smoking. Not when there's even the slightest chance that Steve might wake up and regret it in the morning.

And he hears it, too, later that night when they're laying in Eddie's bed exchanging soft, sleepy kisses, unwilling to drift off and let the night end, just yet.

Their legs are woven together - bare, aside from their boxers - and Steve has lost track of how long they've been tangled up in each other like this. He doesn't particularly care, though. He's pretty sure he could happily spend the rest of his life exactly like this.

"Love you, Stevie," Eddie whispers against his lips. They both smile into the next kiss, and Steve's heart is full to bursting, because he believes it. He knows, now, what it feels like to be loved...to be adored.

"I love you," he murmurs in reply, relishing in Eddie's sharp intake of breath. He giggles a bit, for no reason other than the pure joy that's been coursing through his body all night. "God," he laughs. "I fucking love you, Eddie Munson.

Eddie is quiet for a moment before his face splits into a grin that could rival Steve's own, and he's so goddamn beautiful that Steve almost feels like crying again.

He doesn't cry, though. He just watches adoringly as Eddie smiles and nudges Steve's nose with his own. "Yeah, baby?" Eddie teases.

"Yeah, Eds," he answers simply.

And he's pretty sure Eddie knows - is pretty sure Eddie can feel it - because Steve kisses him for the umpteenth time that night, and he pours every ounce of his heart into it. 

Steve kisses Eddie like he loves him, because he does. God, help him, he does.

And Eddie?

Eddie kisses Steve like he loves him back, and Steve gets it now, because it’s more than just a kiss.

It’s perfect.

It’s earth-shattering.

It’s everything.

--

Shout-out to @lyphyshard for the beta!

For more of my Steddie blurbs and one-shots, check out my masterlist!

[cho-aaacho]

Jealousy isn't really your style, is it?

Masterlist

Characters : Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Fushiguro Megumi, and Choso.

Gojo Satoru

He becomes increasingly silent—too silent until you can't detect his emotion. His appetite vanished as waves of jealousy showered on his mind. You don't even notice that at first, thinking he might be tired from work.

However, as the sun goes down to the horizon and is replaced by the moonlight, his smile fades whenever your eyes meet his. He refrains from calling you endearing nicknames, skips the usual sensual morning kiss, and avoids his favorite cookies. When you suggest playing video games, Gojo simply groans and leaves you alone.

What's happening to him? Did you hurt your sweetheart? No. Until the sky falls, you don't have a heart to hurt your sweetheart.

You can't let the stillness linger; you can't leave everything unresolved. It's so hurtful, to be honest. Why would Gojo be so selfish like this? You need to find out what's going on with your little sweetheart.

That night, Gojo stood in his favorite spot within the apartment, drowning in the beautiful goldfish in the aquarium. Golden and yellow, reflected in his eyes like sunflower petals.

He gently tapped his finger on the aquarium's glass, making the whole atmosphere feel so cold. Gojo seemed unusually relaxed, in contrast to the person he once was. 

"I know I might come off as a boring and annoying man. People often say that, and I usually don't care about it at all because I understand it's not important. But when it comes from you—please... I don't want to hear that."

You do not quite understand what he means, but Gojo appears deeply hurt. His azure eyes, his words, his breath, the cologne he uses this time, the way he gazes at you—something feels off and unplaced.

This is the first time you've seen him so blue and so pained that the warmth in his lovely presence is almost undetectable. Everything is gone.

"Hey, I'm not sure if you've noticed, but it hurts me when you smile at other guys. I want you to be mine, and only mine, and no one else. Please don't do that again, because you're irreplaceable. If I lose you, I can't find another like you."

Geto Suguru 

At first, he doesn't show his jealousy because Geto is the sweetest.

However, there comes a moment when he becomes more affectionate—increased physical touch, frequent kisses, hugs, showering you with praise, texting you almost every hour.

And when he does these things, he always leaves a sarcastic comment like, "I'm a better man, aren't I?" or "Can you see how much I care about you more than anyone else?"

and "I hope you're not blind enough to understand my affection."

also "I know you're not stupid enough to leave me alone. Because I hate being a loner."

It's somewhat annoying because Geto rarely behaves like this. It's simply... so strange, leaving you confused about whether it's a prank by the twins, if something horrible has hit him, or maybe he is too much into reading a weird romantic novel.

That morning, when you are sleeping on his lap, feeling his love, warmth, and kindness, he delicately traces his fingertips across your cheeks, down to your jawline, then meanders to your nose, pinching it gently, leaving a small chuckle before circling back to playfully tease the contour of your lips.

He leaned closer, sealing a gentle kiss on the nose tip and moving before grazing your lips with a small nibble. "Did Satoru ever kiss you like this? I doubt he has done this to you."

Your eyes fluttered open, confusion etching your expression. "What do you mean, Suguru-kun?"

He sighed. "Don't think I haven't noticed, cutie. I may not match Satoru's strength, but I'm not stupid. What were you up to with him last week? You seemed quite charmed with him, didn't you?"

He added. "Should I end both of you, so he can't have you and you can't have him? But I lack the heart to harm you, sweet love. Stop talking with that man. Because I hate sharing my love with someone else."

Nanami Kento

A tough man, he doesn't even realize if jealousy is starting to invade him; perhaps you might label it as denial. 

He puts on a facade that everything is fine, brushing off any concerns by assuming them to be mere imagination or work-induced stress.

No, you didn't cheat or talk with another man. You're always a nice woman to Nanami Kento, and of course, never in your wildest dreams will you hurt your man. 

However, a weird sensation starts to trouble him the next day when his coworkers engage in silly gossip about him and you. 

Whispers float behind him, dripping with a sarcastic tone like, "How could a good woman like her date someone like Nanami-san? He's so boring."

and someone chimes in. "Yeah, I heard she dumped Gojo-san and went with him; why does she think like that?"

From that moment onward, everything feels upside down.

Each day, each time, every time he sees your face, catches your gaze, and hears your voice echoing in his ears, all of these hurt him. 

He feels like he doesn't deserve you and thinks that perhaps you can find another guy, someone special, someplace that would make you safe and happy, someone who could make you feel at home whenever you run to them. 

And that man is not me.

"I realize I might not be as caring as other men, or perhaps I come off as too boring for someone like you. Honestly, I don't wish for your kindness to be shared with anyone else—even a fleeting smile from you stirs a deep ache within me. Maybe it's an obsession, but if you allow me to share my jealousy, I don't want you to meet that guy, Gojo Satoru. For heaven's sake, I fear losing all control and ending up hurting you. I love you." 

Fushiguro Megumi

Honestly, his anger management is the worst. There are scenes when he appears calm, collected, and cute, but, again, it's merely a facade he is creating, especially in your presence. 

When the flames of jealousy shower on Megumi, flirting with his life, everything transforms into a hellish field.

He loses his temper and becomes easily offended whenever Yuuji attempts to engage in conversation with him, roasting everyone in sight. The situation continues until Maki beats him and tells him how annoying he is.

He has a terrible urge to throw punches at everyone, driven by the need to tell them that you belong to him. He needs to make it clear that you're already committed to someone else and that your heart is sealed with Fushiguro Megumi. Only with that man and no one else.

His intention is not just to show his obsession but also to dissuade others from bothering both of you. He longs to compel them to kneel, satisfying his fleeting sense of pride.

It's pretty hilarious because whenever Gojo catches wind of it, he bursts into laughter and playfully teases Megumi all day. Well, it's natural for anyone to have jealousy within them, but... doesn't Megumi take it a bit too far?

You've observed this pattern and tried to convince your dear boyfriend that everything around him is just his imagination. He shouldn't be worrying, and he just hurts himself by treating people like that.

Yet, Megumi is Megumi.

"I don't think I'm overreacting to this. When I'm upset, I express it openly. It's frustrating when people assume I'm obsessed with you—I'm not. I just don't want you to get involved with someone who isn't worth it for you. I fear you'll end up hurt. You can choose me; I can prove not only to you but to everyone that I am the one who truly deserves you."

Choso

Choso isn't typically the jealous type, but when he notices a certain closeness between you and his brothers, everything changes. 

He genuinely cares for his brothers, going to great lengths to ensure their happiness and love. He values the bond you share with his brothers and cherishes the love and affection you have for each other.

However...

It's hard for him to put it into words. Everything is stuck in his throat and sealed inside his head. 

Every time he sees you with his brothers blossoming an indescribable feeling within him, it's a burning sensation that's hard to bear. The flame is starting to burn him alive.

The way you share meals with them or laugh at their jokes—all of these irritate him to the point that they make his heart beat so fast. Choso is aware that these emotions are too complicated; he can't hate his brothers, but the heart has a way of contradicting logic. 

How could God put love in his heart?

He fondly recalls the first snow you experienced together, the gentle embrace of summer against his skin, and the golden glow of spring's sun. 

But he still wonders when he falls in love with you. Maybe since the first time he met you? Or else?

"I find immense joy in sharing my time and days with you. My brothers seem to love you as well. Everything about you is beautiful, and I cherish the moments we share. I fear losing you and our precious time; that's why I act this way when you're with them. I want to be the one you choose."

[taintandviolent]

Lime Green Jell-O; Peter Maximoff x Reader

summary: Reader is in a situationship with Peter Maximoff. It's been casual on both ends, or so you thought. You think he's jealous and you decide to tease a little hard. Peter can't take the heat, though.

word count: 2K!

w a r n i n g s: shameless smut, smut with a little plot, unprotected sex, fingering, mentions of jealousy, possible jealousy kink.

a/n: anonymous request! you guys keep asking me to write Peter, and I'm nervous every single time, istg. I hope it delivered, and you enjoyed reading it! ps: dividers are by firefly-graphics!

full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don't have a taglist, but please turn on post notifications if you want to be notified of future fics!

Peter sat bolt upright, as if you’d just announced the most horrible thing in the world. Which to him, you had. 

"So, you've been seeing other guys?" Peter asked painfully casually, working overtime to control the pitch of his voice. Any hint of his true feelings and he'd be done for. 

You scoffed, feigning offense. "Of course I have." You gulped down the last bit of soda, and crawled over on the bed to throw it in the bin. Most of your free days were spent in his room, fooling around, playing video games with him, and watching whatever cheesy movie he’d put on. He seemed to think you had extra free-time that you’d spent with other guys.

Though it was only a nano-second, Peter's brows furrowed, and his lips frowned. You narrowed your eyes, and he immediately shifted in his jacket, returning to his previous state. No way she saw that. No way -- it was too fast. He darted to the bed, standing in front of you. 

Getting to your knees, you squared up. Inhaled and closed your mouth, crossing your arms firmly across your chest, underneath your breasts. Your shirt was low-cut enough that he saw the shift in your cleavage. He clenched his jaw, averting his dark eyes elsewhere. This wasn’t the time to start getting a stiffie. 

"Peter," you started, a reprimanding tone in your voice. If he was going to pull the loyalty card now… you smirked. "The first time we hooked up you said, and..." You brought your fingers up to make quotes in the air, in front of his face. "I quote: 'Nothin' serious, babe'. So....." 

Damn. Peter pushed his lips forward, nodding. "Right, yeah, I did say that. And I so totally meant it." 

"Good, so… you shouldn't care if things are getting pretty serious with one of them. Like... really serious. Serious enough that we might have to stop hanging out as much." Bam. Mic drop. 

That was a lie; a blatant one. Little did he know, you had been dating casually, but doing so completely uninterested. No one had matched your silver speedster; not in sex, not in personality, not in anything. He had zipped his way into your heart and wasn’t leaving. You weren’t about to let him know that though, and decided to dig a little deeper with the teasing. He was cute when he was jealous… which he was. You knew it. 

Instead of confessing everything right then and there, Peter stiffened and mirrored your position; arms crossed over his muscled chest. He shook his head and shrugged. Cool as cucumber. No way were you winning this one. 

You smirked again, this time, raising a single brow. "Are you... jealous, Maximoff?" 

"Pffffbfbbtbt." Peter blew air through his lips, slicing his hand through the air like he was swatting a fly away. "Totally not jealous." 

"Good, because if you were, you'd hate to hear that Tommy and I went on the most adorable date the other night, and he was --" 

His hands flew up, waving slightly. "Woah, don't need to hear the deetz, babe. No thanks." 

"Oh no? I think you are jealous... I absolutely think you are, because..." 

Peter's fingers shushed you, smushing into the fullness of your pout. He didn't want to hear the (probably one-hundred percent correct) explanation that followed the 'because'. Your eyebrows flew up on your forehead, expectantly. You tried to speak through his finger, but he pressed harder. Peter screwed up his expression before rolling his eyes towards the ceiling. He huffed a breath, and looked back at you.

You yanked your face away, narrowing your eyes into knowing slits. You barked out a laugh, unable to control it. He had always been a terrible liar, but this took the cake. “Oh, you totally are. You are lime-green Jell-o, Peter.”

“I am not.” 

“Are too.” You jabbed your index finger into his pec. “You so are.” 

He huffed and dropped his arms. You weren’t budging, and if he kept up, you’d win. He knew it, you knew it. It was a good old-fashioned standoff. You cocked your hip out to the side. 

"Okay, so maybe I am jealous. Fine. Sure. Whatever. Now, c'mere."

Exhaling heavy over his bottom lip, Peter took hold of your face and pulled you into a warm kiss. The tips of his fingers stroked your hairline, urging you closer to him - as close as he could get you without melting into you. Surprised, your eyes widened into the kiss, but after a few seconds, you couldn’t help but melt into him. 

"Peter, Peter," you murmured into his lips, pushing away slightly to look over his face with a weighted gaze. "You're really jealous?" 

Saying nothing, he nodded heavily and went back to kissing you, his tongue slipping along your bottom lip before breaching. You whimpered into his lips, the vibration tickling slightly. Peter pressed his chin into yours, gently forcing you to scoot backwards on the bed. The kiss deepened for a moment before Peter broke it, his dark orbs scanning your face. 

“Yeah,” he whispered over your lips before urging your back against the mattress. “I am super jell-o…” He mocked. 

“Want you for myself. All for myself. Okay? Just… lemme’...” 

Peter nuzzled your neck, soft lips ghosting the skin and peppering kisses from your ear lobe down to your collarbone. Just above there, he began suckling the skin, pulling it into his mouth. He sucked harder and harder until you finally yelped, jerking your head away slightly. The skin left his mouth with a wet pop. 

"Ow! Peter, what are you doing?" 

"Markin' my territory.... err.... something." He pulled back to look at his handiwork. The skin where he'd been sucking was scarlet, heading to purple, and by that evening, it would be a wicked bruise.  A little gift for whoever you saw next, if it wasn't him.

He grinned as you rubbed at the skin, feeling the tenderness of it. “Did you just give me a hickey?” 

“Maaaybe.” 

“You dork,” you murmured. Peter crushed his lips against yours again, inhaling your scent. His hands trailed up your waist, gripping it hungrily. This is exactly what you’d thought about earlier; every time he touched you, it felt electric, and nobody had even come close to that sensation. You bucked your hips up into his, grinding against the tent in his sweatpants. Peter pressed back against you, hissing through his teeth at the sudden welcome friction. Beneath the fabric, you felt the heat and pressure of his hardening cock and whined. 

“What the heck d’ya want, babe? What am I doin’ wrong here? You want a romantic? You want a casanova?” 

“No,” you started, raking your nail along his t-shirt, the fabric catching underneath your nail and exposing his luscious neck just a little bit. “I  just want you, Peter. Only you. No other guys matter, and I only… I only said that because you said it was casual, I didn’t want to seem desperate.”

“I dunno, I think I’m actin’ pretty desperate right now.” He rutted his hips against you, his cock bumping into your cloth-covered cunt again. You bit your lip, rolling your eyes back. Every whimper, moan and mewl you made coursed through his veins, straight to his dick. They made it ache, and burn, and he couldn’t help but roll his hips against yours, dry-humping you urgently. 

“Fuck me, Peter.” 

Just what he wanted to hear. He nodded in response and brought his fingers to the waistband of your pajama pants, slipping inside. He drug his middle finger up along your folds, smearing your precum over the warm flesh. You were already so wet, Peter grit his teeth, slipping a single digit inside. You vocalized at the sensation, and he slipped another finger in, pumping them in and out slowly. You loved when he did that; just felt you, played with you like a little sex toy. 

His nimble fingers slipped out, and began toying with your cunt, making tiny, quick circles on your swollen clit. The muscles of your thighs quivered hard and deep with every pass of the pad of his finger. He always knew how to make you writhe around, practically shivering with pleasure. You felt the wetness pooling underneath your ass and whimpered, shyly. You always got so wet around him, almost to the point of embarrassment. Peter never made fun, though; if anything, he was always delighted by it, and loved to feel it soaking through the fabric of your cute, little patterned panties. 

As he flicked at your sensitive spots, your lids drooped shut, thinking about how good he was going to feel. It pressed against your hip, hard and demanding, like it was searching for somewhere to go. You couldn’t wait anymore. 

“Gimmie that cock,” you whispered against his ear before nipping at his lobe. Higher than he wanted to, he whined and withdrew his fingers, planting them on your hip bone. 

“Mm’yeah…. gonna’ give it to you,” he nodded, breathless. “‘Cause you want it bad, right?” 

“Yeah, I do. The only one I want.”

Wasting no time, Peter freed his throbbing dick from his sweatpants. It bounced heavily in front of you, the searing hot tip pressing against your tummy. Biting your lip, you took it in your hand, giving it a few generous pumps. You then pushed his cock between your legs, lining it up with your slit and forcing the tip in for him. The action sent a shockwave through his body; he jerked up and groaned. “Fuuuuck…” 

Peter threw your legs over his shoulders, angling your body up. 

“C’mon, give it to me…” 

He clenched his teeth and bottomed out, slamming the lower half of his toned body into yours. It filled you, stretching your walls and pressing against them in the most erotic, tantalizing way. He found a rhythm quickly, and made sure to keep it, his balls slapping against your ass as he thrust into you. You threw your head back and let out a breathy moan, pressing your head into the pillow. You swallowed, wetting your throat and looked back up at him. 

Above you, Peter was extra-whiny today. Sweat collected on his forehead, beading up before ribboning down his temples. His silver hair stuck together in clumps, and when he looked from your pussy to your eyes, he smiled weakly. He was fucking you hard, harder than he usually did and you could only assume it was because he was taking out his aggression, his jealousy.

“Oooh, yeah, just like that, baby… Just like that. You’re so… you’re so jealous.” Your words were punctured by lewd moans and breaths, but you finally got out the teasing statement. Then, Peter did something he didn’t usually do. He gripped your shoulders and pulled you onto his cock over and over again, relentlessly, bucking his hips up to meet yours with every thrust. The tip of his cock hammered your cervix, hitting your deepest parts. Your jaw dropped, brows peaking together as he fucked you. 

“....oh….oh my fuckin’....” 

“....shit-shit-shit, Peter…” 

Your pussy clenched around his cock, and you couldn’t control it. She fluttered, coating his dick in warmth. Peter groaned, closer than ever. 

“You should… you should be –” You moaned, digging your nails into his shoulders. “...be jealous more often.” 

That did it. Peter lost it, spurting his white heat  inside of you, pumping it deep. A melody of groans between the both of you filled the room, as the thrusts slowed and the sweat dripped. He collapsed on top of you, kissing every inch of bare skin that he could find. 

After a few moments, he snapped up, hands on either side of your head. He looked down at you with a quirked brow, and a mischievous smile. You grinned back at him, lust-blown and giddy. You loved these afternoons, where you just fucked each other like teenagers. 

“Wanna’ play some video games? Or did you have another lame-o date planned?” 

You sniggered. “The only lame-o I’m dating is you.”

[lost-in-lamentation]

you're not his. but he hopes that with this, you'll finally see how much he wants you.

content: the brothers give you their purest form of affection. what do they do?

warnings: if you don't like physical affection, this may not be for you (⇀‸↼‶)

part two with the sides here.

belphegor; he bites you.

he watches you flip through your homework, his gaze following your pen as you scribble across the page. it's not long before he decides he can't hold back anymore, and eventually makes his way over to you. he places his hands on your shoulders, letting you know he's there, before he nips lightly at the base of your neck.

"wha- belphie! what was that for?!" you cry out, your face beginning to flush.

belphegor smiles at you, his eyes soft yet mischievous. "figure it out yourself."

═  ˎˊ˗

beelzebub; he gives you bunny kisses.

after a hard fought fangol game, beelzebub can't help but look for you in the crowd. when he finally sees you, arms waving excitedly and all, he runs harder than he did the whole game. the demon slows to a stop in front of you, your grin inviting him closer. his hands move faster than he thinks, cupping your face as he leans in to rub his nose with yours. when he pulls back, his hands are replaced by a light blush.

"beel, you..."

beelzebub takes your hand in his. "let's go get something to eat."

═  ˎˊ˗

asmodeus; he pampers you.

a long day leaves you too tired to properly freshen up at the end of it. but asmodeus decides that if anyone gets to share his special beauty products, it's you. he tugs you into his private bathroom with the utmost care, handing you bottles of who knows what that he says will help you. when you've finished, asmodeus has you lay down on his bed, his hands slowly working the knots out of your back.

you release a relaxed sigh under his touch. "thanks, asmo," you murmur.

asmodeus delights in the way you start to melt. "anything for you, darling."

═  ˎˊ˗

satan; he touches foreheads with you.

the sight of you reading a book he recommended while sitting in his favourite chair was simply too much. he stares at you a while longer before he decides he's had enough. the blonde makes his way towards you, his lips pouting, but his eyes loving. he waits for you to look up at him, and when you do, he leans down, pressing his forehead onto yours. his eyes flutter shut, and he is internally thanking the stars that you haven't pulled away.

"are you okay?" you whisper ever so softly.

satan reaches to rub a thumb over your cheek. "i am now."

═  ˎˊ˗

leviathan; he links your arms together.

he spends at least fifteen minutes debating if he's allowed to even touch you. you're so close to him; if you were sitting any nearer, you'd be brushing elbows. was it so bad of him to want that? the game he's playing with you takes second priority for a brief second, causing leviathan to slip up and nearly die in game. when you look at him, concern written across your face, he can't stop himself. his arm snakes around yours, linking together.

"levi? you're okay with this?"

"i-if it's you... yeah. i think am," he stutters, trying to ignore the way you shift closer to him.

═  ˎˊ˗

mammon; he gives you a back hug.

when he comes home, the last thing he expects is to overhear you arguing with lucifer about him. but when mammon listens to you defending his name, he nearly breaks down then and there. he waits for you to leave lucifer's study, waits for you to pad down the hallway down to your room. when he finally catches a glimpse of you, he's throwing himself around you, arms wrapping your waist and his face burying into your hair.

"what's this about, mammon?"

"... nothin'." mammon sighs against your neck, his fingers tapping on your stomach one time, then four times, then three times. he hopes you'll understand.

═  ˎˊ˗

lucifer; he kisses you.

the eldest of seven nearly has a heart attack when he awakes on his bed. he remembers falling asleep at his desk, not his bed. lucifer snaps his head around and is greeted by you, sitting at the desk he thought he had never left. he barely registers the words that leave your mouth as he begins to walk towards you. for once, lucifer acts without thinking, and he finds himself gravitating towards you to place a gentle kiss on your lips. he practically shudders with joy when you return the sentiment.

"good morning," you say as you separate, breath fanning against his lips.

"good morning," lucifer returns, chasing you for one more kiss.

a/n: asmo is so hard to write for me... i'm sorry asmo fans. (also, should i do a part 2 for purgatory hall and royalty crew?)

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

imagine like reader being a detective or something, being on the case to catch Red Hood (while he’s still a crime boss)/ the Arkham Knight, but being in a relationship with Jason, unaware of his nightly business. And then boom, they find out one day and it’s all angsty 🤞🤞 love ur work btw hihi

Betrayal

Hi, nonnie! I thought I had this done earlier, but then I had to keep world building. Stuck with Red Hood on this one. Hurt/No comfort warning. Non-graphic, very minor character death. ~1.8k words

Gotham is cursed. That's what they told you when you transfered to the GCPD. Yeah, you've heard the stories, but they're just messing with you, right? Trying to scare the newest rookie cop.

Except they were telling the truth. A few years later, more cases than you can keep track of, enough masked rouges to fill arkham three times over, and a promotion to detective, you tell the rookies the same thing they told you. Gotham is cursed.

"Alright, Detective, this one is yours." You make a face at the case file the Commissioner drops on your desk.

"Sir, I took care of The Penguin robbery last week, isn't it someone elses turn to deal with the high profile cases?" You gingerly pick up the file, reading over the name Red Hood stamped on the front.

Gordan sighs at you, already turning away to move onto the next poor detective. "We cycled through everyone else after the Black Gate breakout. Anyone who didn't work on it has active cases. That makes this one yours."

You grumble reluctantly, cases like this lead to more press coverage than you want to deal with, but start flipping through the file, mentally noting down the sparse facts and theories about the up and coming crime lord.

That was four months ago. In such a short amount of time, Red Hood has taken over more territory in Gotham than any other crime lord and completely changed the game. No dealing to children, no human trafficking. You hate to acknowledge it, but crime technically has dropped since he took over the majority of gangs in Gotham under an iron fist.

The work is exhausting, he's always one– no, five steps ahead of you and your growing team of detectives and beat cops. You don't think you've even gotten a real glimpse at him that he didn't mean to let you have.

The closest you've gotten to Red Hood was out of uniform, weeks after you got the case, when he was still a new name on the streets.

It was a robbery, some desperate punk in a mask that didn't conceal anything, was dragging a little girl out of the store as a hostage.

"Take me instead, she's just a kid." You had protested, heart sinking at the terror in the little girls face.

"Not a chance." He barked back at you.

"Look, she's scared, she'll only slow you down."

The gunman stares at you, you see his fingers twitch. "Fuck it. Fine. Both of you are coming with me." That's how you ended up in some alley, familiar sirens wailing in the distance and your hand curled protectively with the child's.

"Shit. Man. Shit. The cops weren't supposed to be here. What am I gonna do? I can't go to jail." He's snapping. Rambling and desperate. Your eyes dart for some kind of plan, a way to help the little girl stay safe. But the alley is empty, not even a dumpster to seek shelter behind. "I just gotta get rid of the witnesses. Yeah. The witnesses."

Your eyes dart to him, he's lifting the gun. You don't hesitate to grab the little girl, wrapping your arms around her and turning your back to the man, tucking her to your chest to provide as much cover as you can provide.

A gun fires.

There's a thud.

You look over your shoulder, the girls face still hidden against you. He's not moving, gun unshot and laying next to him on the ground. There's a pool of dark liquid forming around him. You look up.

You manage to see a red glint, the shine of a gun, the eerie glow of a luminescent eyes. Red Hood.

That's all you manage to see before you're swarmed by cops, guiding you and the girl to safety.

It's a memory that plays in your mind sometimes, when you hear testimonies of how Red Hood saves people in crime alley, despite his crime lord status. It's confusing, exhausting even, to try and sort between the good and the bad, the duality of one man. At least you have your loving boyfriend to come home to.

Jason. He makes you feel like Gotham might not be so cursed. It's great, he gives you butterflies. He makes you happy. You cook meals together, and you both work the weird twilight/night shift hours. He holds you like you're precious under your shared comforter. You think you might love him. He whispers sweet nothings into your hair when he thinks you're sleeping. You kiss his palms when his eyes get that far away, haunted look he can’t seem to explain.

He's insisted on cooking dinner tonight as you watch him, a little starry eyed. You can't really blame yourself when he's shirtless and working over your favorite meal.

"Oh, Jason, I need to wash my clothes. Do you need anything done?" You ask, finally remembering that you do actually have a job and responsibilities and you can't stare at your handsome boyfriend all day.

"No, I'm good, baby. Go ahead and do your thing. Dinner's almost done." He answers idly, shooting you a lazy grin as you stand.

You smile back before leaving the kitchen to gather your clothes. As you dump the dirty laundry in the washer, you realize you never refilled the detergent. Mumbling an annoyed curse, you head to the spare bedroom you rarely use. There should be some extra necessities stock piled in there. You know, for the next time a criminal messes with Gothams chain supply.

You're more focused on the delicious smells floating through the apartment as you open the closet door, idly looking around for the detergent. That's why it doesn't really click in your mind what you're looking at. Guns. Armor. Your thoughts freeze to a stop. Are you dating some kind of henchman? A bright red helmet takes up your vision. Nope. You're dating a crime boss.

The helmet is in your hands and you're fumbling your way to the kitchen before you even have your thoughts sorted. Should you call for back up? Shouldn't you try to catch him by surprise? Sure. But, you need answers. You want this to be a misunderstanding. You want Jason to be your partner– not– not what the evidence that's heavy in your hand says he is.

Statistics run through your mind. Stories of Red Hood saving working girls. Stories of him leaving bodies of dealers that sold to kids. Then, memories of your boyfriend. How he leans down to kiss your forehead. How runs his hand up and down your arm while you watch movies together. If there was a sign. If you were too blind and in love to realize.

He turns to look at you when you stalk in. You throw the helmet at him. The helmet you'd recognize anywhere, even if you've never gotten close enough to touch it before. He catches it with the grace of a predator. "The hell is this, Jason?"

"It's a helmet." He says evenly, turning off the stove and placing the helmet down on the counter.

"No, duh, it's a helmet, Jason. Don't patronize me. Is it yours?" You nearly hiss, hands curling in anger and frustration and heart break you're not ready to admit you're feeling.

He studies you, eyes dark and calculating. It makes you bite the inside of you cheek. His eyes never looked at you like that before. "It is."

You laugh out of disbelief, stepping back. "So you've been using me? Is that what all this was? Just a way to get information about the GCPD and what we had on you?"

"What? No." He says your name a little pleading, "it's not like that. Not anymore."

"But it was." You bite out, cursing yourself for the sting of tears in your eyes.

He steps closer, you step back, trying to keep your hands from shaking. He whispers your name, and you think you see hurt flash in his eyes before it disappears. His voice goes steady, even. "It was. But I haven't tried to get anything like that since–"

"Since when, Jason?" You cut off, anger and hurt clear in your voice, in your face. "Was it before we raided the warehouse at the docks? Is my computer bugged? Did you hack my phone?"

He winces. You don't need to be a detective to know he has. "I haven't used them since we started getting serious."

"And when was that, Jason?" You ask, voice breaking at his name. "Because it's been serious this entire time for me."

He doesn't answer at first, gaze leaving you to stare at his helmet. "Since I– I saw you save that kid. Instead of going after that shooter. When I realized you weren't just another one of the corrupted cops. That you care about this city. And the people. I realized I couldn't keep doing that to you."

You go quiet. What can you say to that? "Were you ever going to tell me?" You settle on.

"I don't know." He shrugs helplessly, eyes leaving the helmet to meet your teary gaze. "I didn't know how. I don't– think I wanted you to know. " He stutters over his last sentence, and then says your name, pleading coming back to his tone. "I can't lose you over this."

"You never had me!" Your voice raises, a shout in anger before you can bury it down. You shake your head, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively and lowering your voice. "You never had me if everything this was was built on a lie."

"It's not a lie." He says firmly, snapping to attention and stepping towards you. He gestures between the two of you, says your name like he demands your attention. "This is not a lie."

"It is, Jason! You're only here to gain something from me! From my job!" You push back, throat tight and head spinning. Maybe you shouldn't be yelling at Gothams most dangerous and deadliest crime boss, but your heart is too broken for your head to think straight.

"No, pretty." You think he's pleading. You think his mouth might even be trembling as he speaks, but you can't make it out through the tears in your eyes. "No. It was like that at first. I know. I know that hurts you, but, it's not like that now. It's nowhere near that now."

"I don't care." You choke out.

"You don't mean that." Jason protests, but he doesn't sound certain.

"I don't want to see you anymore." You say the words before you're even sure you want that.

His face drops. "You don't mean that either."

"I do." It tastes like a lie. It sounds like the truth. You're turning and leaving before he can speak again, before you can unpack what you really want, locking yourself in the bathroom.

You fall asleep to the sound of your own tears, curled on the cold tile floor. You wake to silence. His helmet is gone from your counter when you enter the kitchen.

Your favorite dinner is wrapped in plastic when you open the fridge.

It makes the truth of it all worse. Gotham really is cursed.

Part Two

[talkbycolor]

john doe game headcanons . . . ↷

A/N; i'm actually really sensitive about john doe JHSAJHSAJAS

Pairing; "John Doe" x GN!Reader

CW; Just doe being the weirdo we love / PISSPISSPISS / implied cannibalism? not so much tho / ew stinky gay / sex with a hairball

john doe as a partner.

His love for you is pure, but the lack of understanding in humans makes it complicated, he doesn't know how to express it in a "correct" way.

He has little interest in humans but all his interest in You, do you want to learn to play an instrument? Doe too, he would learn to use a phone to call you although it would be useless since in the end he would follow you to work, he can't stand having you away for even a second!

He tried to eat you (unfortunately not in a sexual way), he wanted to bite, pull your teeth, and tear them out of your cheeks to eat them, you had to use a lot of patience to explain to him that this was painful and you could die

He likes your fluids, your sweat smells so good, it tastes great, your tears, he knows that tears mean something is wrong but he can't help but want to lick them, at least he's like a puppy in that way and that will make you laugh, Doe wants to help! your urine, he will drink it all without a problem, if you are both having a loving session in bed and you want to go to the bathroom, forget it, he will open your legs and help empty your bladder, he loved being your personal toilet, your blood is the sweetest of his paradise, be careful with accidental cuts or his mouth will stick like a leech to your wound

Ideas for romantic activities will probably come from television, be careful what he watches

At this point, Doe lives by and for you, he will adapt to your lifestyle and tastes, although he cannot understand most of them, the idea of "breaking up" does not exist in his head, you can walk away, even stop talking to him and he will continue behind you

But he has feelings, why don't you talk to him anymore? Did he do something wrong? He no longer leaves rats in the kitchen, he no longer tries to make You dinners with raw meat, is that the way he looks? Tell him your standards! Doe will change everything for you, even reality

He can definitely purr, he's more like an old, ugly, stray cat that will rest on your lap, but he's YOUR, old, ugly, stray cat.

He doesn't know how to give compliments, it's more like observations or comments about how you make him feel "You're wearing a big hat!" "A red dress!", "I'm so happy to see you!" but it's adorable that he reminds you that you are his whole life…somehow

It's like having a child at home, in the strangest way possible, he will try to make horrible crafts for you and help with housework without much success.

If you demand sex, Doe would probably do his best to make a nice cock, just for you, or a pussy depending on what you like, he will be submissive but if you ask him to take control he will try

And that will probably be the messiest and hardest sex you've ever had in your life, Doe always adores you like it's your last day on earth so in a sexual sphere it would be ten times worse

If you put on a movie at night, he will fall asleep halfway through, no exceptions, the sound of the television and your smell will be enough

Doe would definitely kill for you, he doesn't understand jokes so please don't say "Ugh I hate that guy, I hope he's dead" because yes, the guy will be dead.

In case You doesn't like the smelly boy, Doe will try to take showers regularly, at least to not smell like something out of the sewer, the pain doesn't matter if it's about you

Loves physical contact and quality time

Surprisingly, Doe has a driver's license, he would be your personal chauffeur, you may think it's an adorable gesture but he just wants to be sure where you are at every hour of the day… and help, of course.

Aside from adoring you, Doe actually has his own tastes and hobbies, he HAS feelings! He has tried knitting since the technology is very confusing, he really is like an old man

He tries to have a good relationship with your friends and family, if you have a big family he will probably feel overwhelmed but that doesn't mean he will stop trying to show that he loves you and wants to be with you.

Your younger nephews love it, they think of Doe as a weird-looking uncle who lets them play with his hair

Doe shirt always has hearts when he looks at You.

♡

[kasagia]

imgonnagetyouback

Pairing: Benny Cross x fem!ex-girlfiriend! reader Summary: After your rather stormy breakup, Benny decides he can't live without you. He'll get you back. At any cost. Even if he has to force you over his motorcycle and take you far out of town. Taglist for Benny: @aleemendoza2425-blog Benny Cross' Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist P.S. I accept requests for Benny if you want to read sth specific with our boy 😊

Even if it's handcuffed I'm leaving here with you Bygones will be bygone eras Fading into gray We broke all the pieces, but still want to play the game I told my friends I hate you but I love you just the same Pick your poison, babe I'm poison either way... Whether I'm gonna be your wife or Gonna smash up your bike I haven't decided yet But I'm gonna get you back - "imgonnagetyouback" Taylor Swift

“What the hell is he doing here?” You ask angrily, looking out your office window as you see your ex’s Harley parked next to your car.

"Maybe he forgot something from you. Did you give him all his stuff back?" Your friend asks, putting the papers into a folder.

"No. I gathered all four of his shirts and two pairs of pants and made myself a campfire behind the house." You huff angrily, closing the blinds so you wouldn't have to watch the blue-eyed Vandal leaning against your car.

"So what does he want? From what you've told me, your relationship ended in a hell of a bad way, and he was a world-class asshole." You tremble at the mere memory of your breakup with Benny.

You and he met at one of the Vandals' bar. You happened to go there for a drink with your girls; he noticed you and started talking with you. He was flirting with you the whole night and tried to take you with him for a ride on his bike. The first time you turned him down. Then he tracked down where you lived and showed up at your door, offering a ride to your work.

You should have seen a red flag then. But you were too stupid and infatuated by him enough to think it was romantic.

As time went on, he took you to Vandals meetings more and more often. And it was fun. Until you had to bail him out of arrest, pick him up from the hospital, and wait forever for him at home, wondering if he'd be sleeping next to you in bed or at the police station.

And one day, when he ended up in the hospital after some guys beat him up for wearing Vandal's colours, you broke. You begged him to stop while he was still alive and well (which was doubtful considering the doctors were still debating whether to cut off his foot); you literally knelt by his bed and cried like a baby while all he cared about was whether he could keep riding.

But that wasn't the worst. The worst was that every time you argued, he threatened to leave, to disappear, that it would be best for you if he left you alone. And at first you begged him, terrified, to stay, but over time you started to react to those words... more aggressively.

Then you decided you were fed up with living with the wandering cat he was and broke up with him. Roughly. Stormily. Your neighbours heard more than one of your arguments, and the whole street saw you throwing his stuff out the window and finally throwing rocks at him as he rode away on his beloved Harley. On second thought, maybe you were both two big damn red carpets.

"I don't want to know. Will you take me home? The last thing I want today is to meet that son of a bitch."

You sigh, dragging the papers to your desk. You grab your black blazer and throw it on over your white shirt. You adjust your black pencil skirt and grab your purse to follow your friend.

You took the job as a secretary right after breaking up with Benny. You quit your old job not wanting him to know where you worked, but apparently Vandal had his ways. You wonder if choosing another job wasn't a slap in the face for Benny. Choosing such a boring and ordinary job would piss him off even more and prove that you really aren't made for each other.

Just like Benny, you could be hellishly mean.

"What the hell?" Your friend asks as you exit out the back and her car isn't in the parking lot. But there is another Vandal with his motorcycle.

"Johnny." You greet him and walk over to him, crossing your arms. Your friend is hot on your heels. "What are you doing here?"

"Kiddo said you two have a problem in your relationship."

"We don't have any relationship, so there is no problem between us. But apparently, my friend lost her car. Can you help her?" You ask him, furious with Benny for not acknowledging your breakup.

"Y/N... you know that I don't like to get involved in the shit that's not mine, but this kid has been going crazy for a month now. He's been doing even worse shitty things than before, and I can't tell you how many times we've picked him up from jail in the past few fucking weeks. If you ever cared about him, talk to him. He's becoming wildly unpredictable. Even for me."

You bite your lip at his words. You know perfectly well what Benny is like, or rather what he was like before he met you. Thanks to you, he stopped riding so fast and carefree, ended up in the hospital much less often, and even obeyed the speed limit when you were with him on his bike.

You can only imagine what he's been up to in your absence and to what extent, since Johnny took an interest and came to you to talk about it.

"Don't manipulate me, Johnny. You know damn well he deserved it. Now you know what I had to deal with throughout this whole fucking relationship." You reply dryly, not wanting to fall for the Vandals' sweet words again.

You loved them like family, but sometimes you have to cut yourself off from them to save your sanity. And you desperately needed some time to yourself and a break from all of Benny's antics.

"Well... I know Benny isn't easy, but he really is a good kid. Carrot and stick. That's what he needs. And for the sake of your lady-buddy's car and your friendship... maybe you should go and have a few words with him."

"Screw you." You growl, rolling your eyes, and walk away from them. "What are you waiting for?! Take her to this fucking car!" You shout, walking back to the main building to exit through the main entrance.

Johnny puts your friend on his bike, and all you can do is give her an apologetic look as he takes her to where they moved her car. You don't even want to know how they did it.

You sigh as you walk through the office and stand in front of the main exit doors. You glance at your watch and walk out of the building with your heart in your mouth.

You walk down the sidewalk with the other people from work who have just left. Benny's blue irises land on you immediately. He straightens up, stopping leaning against your car and throwing away a cigarette he was smoking. He looks at you expectantly. You nod at him and pretend to walk in his direction.

You cross the street on the crosswalk, but instead of turning right towards the parking lot, you run as hard as you can to the left towards the bus stop.

"Y/N!" Benny shouts after you, and a moment later, you hear the thud of his combat boots against the pavement as he runs after you.

The bus pulls up to the stop, and you run inside. Luckily, the driver closes the doors before Benny can get to them. He bangs on the glass, shouting your name and some curse words, but you can't hear him clearly as the bus starts moving.

You breathe a sigh of relief and wipe your sweaty forehead. This time you did it. You just hoped your friend would get her car back before Benny went to Johnny and complained to him that you ran away.

But for now, you're happy that you managed to outsmart your ex.

The next morning you cautiously peer out from behind your front door, searching for a head of blonde hair. Even though you couldn't see any Vandal's motorcycle through the window, you wanted to be sure that none would suddenly pop out from nowhere.

You sigh with relief, not seeing anything suspicious.

You open the door wider, but something is blocking you. On your way out, you notice a huge bouquet of your favourite flowers. You pick it up and examine it carefully, but you don't see any note or card. But you do see a necklace.

The flowers are tied with a fucking necklace. The necklace Benny gave you at the beginning of your relationship with his initials carved into the back of the silver heart. (One of the guys worked at a jeweler's and did it for him for practically free through a connection or something.) The necklace you threw in his face when you broke up with him.

Furious, you want to throw the flowers in the trash. Instead, you decide to put the necklace in your pocket and walk to work. On the way, you pass a school and hand the bouquet to the first girl you see. At least she was happy because of those damn flowers.

As you continue your walk, you see a motorcyclist in the distance. You tense up and quicken your pace, praying that it's not a Vandal, but apparently you're out of luck today.

"Y/N?! How long have we not seen each other?!" Danny screams as he rides to you. You sigh as his bike blocks the entire sidewalk and force a smile.

"Probably ages ago. How you doing?"

"Great. Can I give you a ride somewhere? Where's Benny? Shouldn't he be the one hauling your ass to work?" He asks, already taking out a helmet for you. You reluctantly accept it and climb behind him on the bike.

"We broke up." You inform him, knowing full well that he's been away from the Vandals lately due to studies and his photography stuff.

"Oh shit. He must be devastated then." He comments and starts the engine. You hold on to him as he drives you to the address you gave him.

The drive takes a few minutes. Luckily, your car is still parked outside the building, and you don't see any parked bikes.

"Thanks. Danny? Can you give this to Benny? You probably will see him sooner than me." You say and hand him the necklace. He nods and drives away, leaving you alone.

You approach your car and curse, seeing the lock placed on the wheel. Not a police lock. A lock that the Vandals often put on and took off in exchange for small money. A small tag was attached to it. It had the date and time written on it—probably their next meeting that they wanted you to join in exchange for taking the damn thing off your car.

"Bad day?"

You flinch and turn around, surprised by someone's presence. You sigh with relief when you see only Mike—an accountant from the company you worked for.

"Bad week. Plus, it looks like I'm grounded." You say and kick your leg against the wheel of your car.

"Yeah, I recognise that. My friend had to pay them like $100 to get that damn thing off. He was rushing to some meeting and couldn't wait for the police and similar stuff. I can get someone to take it off for you."

"I'm afraid I don't have enough money." You sigh, mentally preparing yourself for a weekend with the Vandals. In Benny's company. Talking to him. You already feel sick.

"For free. Friend of mine owns me a little favour."

"Seriously?" You ask, shocked. He nervously rubs the back of his neck with his hands and nods, giving you an uncertain smile.

"Yeah, no problem. And before he will do it... do you mind if we both go to lunch? I mean... you don't have to if you don't want to..."

"You know... I would actually like that." You interrupt him with a smirk, seeing him stuttering, unable to finish his sentence as he blushes.

"Really?" You almost giggle at his incredulous question and the gleam of happiness in his eyes. You nod with a huge, genuine smile, practically forgetting why you agreed to this date in the first place. "So... in four hours at the exit?"

"I will be waiting." With a smile, you leave him behind and enter the office. Maybe this day wasn't such a tragedy after all...

Benny was drinking beer with Johnny and Danny at a table in their favourite bar. The Vandals were circling him like vultures, just waiting for a little sensation and gossiping about his breakup with you.

"It must be hard for you, man. We all saw how much you loved her. Like a Catholic loves a goddamn God."

"Too bad she can't see it." Benny mumbles, lighting a cigarette. His one hand plays with the necklace he left on your doorstep this morning, which you gave to Denny. Benny gave you his fucking heart, and you still rejected it. He had to try harder. He had to talk to you first.

"Hey Benny-boy? How are you? Are you still getting over your breakup with your girlfriend? Do you love her that much? Come on, come with us. We'll race to the brothel, and you'll forget about this bitch in a second." Some Vandal walks up to him and pats him on the back.

"Benny no..." Johnny is interrupted by the crash of Vandal's jaw as Benny's fist hits him.

A second later, a beer bottle shatters over the head of a bleeding man on the floor, and Johnny and Danny try to pull him away from the guy. The entire club boos and cheers for the fight, but the guys quickly drag Benny outside.

"What the hell?! You can love her, but damn, don't be such a girl and react at each shitty comment!" Johnny yells at him and hits him in the chest with his hands. Benny huffs indignantly and puts his hands in his pockets to stop himself from hitting him.

"I hate her!" He growls furiously and plays with the necklace in his pants' pocket.

"And love her just the same, huh?" Danny asks and gives Benny a cigarette.

Benny doesn't answer. He smokes furiously, trying to clear his head, but all he can think about is you. Your scent, your taste, the softness of your body, the shudder of your breath beneath him, the way you clenched your hands around his shirt across his stomach when you rode with him on his bike, the way you pressed yourself against him and snuggled up to him every chance you got... fuck, he missed you. More than he previously thought he would be.

"Benny?! I saw your girl with some man in a suit! At that one of those Italian restaurants on the corner of Main Street. You know, the shitty one for rich people. You should do something about this." One of the bikers rides up and informs him, then rides away before Benny can say anything.

"Kid, don't…" Johnny tries to stop him, but Benny is already on his motorcycle. He starts it and rides as fast as he can, ignoring the shouts behind him.

All Benny could think about was how he was going to beat up the guy who dared to touch you. You were his girlfriend. You were one of the Vandals. You might have been on a break, but that didn't give any man the right to hit on you. Not when you had Benny and Benny had you.

It was simple logic. Nobody messes with the Vandals and their girls.

Benny sped through the city, not stopping at red lights. It wasn't until he was at a restaurant that he stopped his Harley.

He didn't turn off the engine, though. He was staring intently through the restaurant windows and checking out each customer until his eyes landed on you and some shit in a suit who had the nerve to get your attention.

Benny tugged on the handle, causing his bike's engine to roar furiously—like a guard dog giving a warning before it attacks. He increased the engine's roar until your eyes met his.

A cold shiver ran through him as you threw him one of your angry looks, and he felt hurt when you ignored him and continued to talk with the man sitting in front of you and gave him one of your most wonderful smiles. Fuck it. The guy wouldn't be able to walk when Benny got to him.

Benny reaches into his pocket, pulls out a pack of Marlboro, and lights his cigarette. He holds it to his mouth with one hand while the other continues to crank the handle of the engine, so that the roar of the engine drowns out any conversation you might have had with the man in front of you.

He smirks as you and the guy in front of you stare in his direction. He holds a cigarette between his plush lips and waves at you, causing an irritated frown to form on your forehead.

Benny can't help but feel a strange bile rising in his throat as he looks at the two of you. You were on a date with a guy who was clearly the opposite of Benny. He wonders if this is what you really want—a boring guy with a boring job and a tonne of money who could build you a house with a fucking white picket fence and drive you to work in his Cooper car and the kids to preschool. It makes him sick to think that you could be anyone else, that you could have anyone else's children, that you could be married to some guy in a suit and live the life of a fucking decent 1950s shitty family.

Benny knew perfectly well that he couldn't give you what this guy could provide you. He couldn't even afford a date at a restaurant like that.

However, it didn't change the fact that he loved you so damn much.

"Hey! Biker dude, leave Y/N alone!" A guy in a suit comes out of the restaurant and yells at him. Benny calmly finishes his cigarette and throws it on the ground, staring silently at the man in front of him. "Did you hear me, degenerate? Get out of here!" The guy pushes him, hitting his chest. For Benny, that's enough.

He lands the first punch with his right fist, landing perfectly on his opponent's cheek. The next punch sends blood pouring from the man's nose onto his snow-white shirt. But for Benny, it's not enough.

He throws the guy to the ground, and the two begin to fight in earnest. Benny, however, has a much greater advantage and motivation as he takes out all his anger on the guy below him. He only snaps out of this strange trance when someone's hands pull him away from the bleeding man below him.

"What the fuck was that, Benny?! You almost killed him!" You yell at him angrily, pulling your hands away from him as quickly as you can. Benny says nothing, staring at you silently as he processes what he just did. Several other motorcycles pull up in front of the restaurant, with Johnny in the lead.

"Let's go, kid! Before the police arrive."

Benny stares at you, not quite wanting to leave before he explains why he beat up your date. But he stops himself the moment he sees the fear and disgust in your eyes. It hurts Benny more than any punch he could have taken. He clenches his jaw and walks to his bike. He starts the engine and gives you one last long look, then lowers his head in shame as he joins the other Vandals.

Your hair flutters in the wind as you watch the Vandals drive away. You run over to Mike and wait with him until the ambulance arrives. But you don't follow him to the hospital. You have more important things to take care of in the city.

With trembling hands, you knock on the door. You wait patiently outside, considering the pros and cons, but before you can chicken out and leave, Betty opens the door for you.

"Y/N? This is quite a surprise."

"Can I come in? I need to talk to you." The woman makes room for you and lets you in. You greet her and Johnny's daughters, who are watching a cartoon on TV, and you go with her to the kitchen, where you can talk in peace. "It's about Benny."

"I expected it. You know, we were all very surprised when you broke up. We were convinced that a week longer and the boy would start looking for an engagement ring for you."

"Benny and marriage? Not in this lifetime, I guess." You scoff and sit down at the small kitchen island with a smile, thanking her for the coffee she made you. "He fucking almost beat my date to death today. He's acting crazy. Johnny tells me he's been like this since I broke up with him, but we both know he was like this long before we even met. What the hell am I supposed to do, Betty? Get out of town? Out of America? Vandals have expanded all over the states, and most of them aren't the same old club they used to be."

"I know. Believe me, I know best." Silence falls between you after her words. You nod, understanding perfectly that she of you had the most right to worry. You sigh, running your hand through your hair. "Y/N... I'll give you some advice. If you don't care about him that much... if you think you can forget and move on, then save yourself. Run away wherever you want, as far away from him as possible, and forget. But if you can't... then stay and talk some sense into him before it's too late to save him."

"Save him? You know perfectly well he won't abandon the Vandals."

"Like you said, they're not the same Vandals they used to be. They've changed. Johnny sees it. Benny sees it. And they both still fool themselves, but when some shit happens, it finally gets to them. And believe me, Benny loves his bike and freedom, but the Vandals aren't his family anymore. You are." You fall silent at her words, processing everything she said. You nod and sigh, taking a cigarette out of the pack in your pocket. "We smoke outside." She admonishes you. You laugh quietly and raise your hands in surrender.

"All right. Thanks for everything, Betty." You sigh as you leave the house. You light a cigarette and walk across town to the Vandals' bar. You have to finish everything you had to finish with Benny. You couldn't just leave town without a word. There's no telling what the Vandal would do if you suddenly disappeared.

You throw your cigarette into the bin and take a few calming breaths as you approach the biker's bar. Their engines are already roaring, and some of them, probably the young and new ones, eye you warily as you enter.

You look around the bar and frown, unable to find Benny. You walk further in, pushing through the sea of people and sitting at the head table where Johnny sits with his most important men.

"Hello there. Where is Benny?" You ask them, taking the beer from Johnny. The man raises an eyebrow at you and watches as you take a sip.

"I thought you didn't want to talk to him?"

"I have to. I'm leaving town soon. I'd rather tell that to that ticking bomb." Johnny nods, fully realising what you mean. You see Cockroach get up from the table and go to the phone. You try to listen in on the conversation, but Johnny effectively talks you over and drowns out any conversation the man was having at the bar.

"When are you coming back?" He asks, but you don't answer. You take a sip of beer and tap your finger on the neck of the bottle. "I see. The kid won't be happy, you know that?"

"We are no longer together." You snap back, trying your best to maintain your relatively indifferent attitude. "Besides, after the shit he did today, he only proved that I can't stay here anymore."

"He went for a ride. He'll probably be at the lake. Or on the streets breaking a few traffic laws. You know him."

"Too well." You nod and stand up from the table. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Cockroach exit the bar and get on his bike. You frown and shake your head. They're not your problem anymore. "Tell him I'm looking for him. When you will see him."

"Sure." He agrees and nods. You nod back and turn to leave the bar. You scan the place one last time, knowing full well that you'll probably never set foot in it again.

Your heart clenches as you remember all the times you spent here. Both the good and the bad. Shortly after you broke up with Benny, you cursed this building. You'd rather see it burn down, along with all the Vandals that reminded you of what you'd lost.

You try to hold back the tears that are welling up in your eyes as you involuntarily recall your first meeting with Benny. The pool table is still in the same spot. How easy it would have been for you not to have looked that damned way and not fallen for the charm of those blue irises and the exposed muscles of his arms. How much disappointment and heartbreak you would have avoided if you had never entered that bar. And as much as you despised and hated that place, you loved it and the people in it for a long time and fiercely. And one of them in particular.

But how much more tragedy and sadness could you endure? How long could you live in fear and uncertainty in a relationship that was supposed to bring you only happiness and those good thrills?

Benny wanted to be free. So you will give him that freedom.

"Y/N!" Johnny calls after you before you leave. You sigh and turn to him, raising a questioning eyebrow. "Take care of yourself."

"You too." You nod at him and leave the bar.

You leave everything behind. And you feel like a piece of you is dying in the flames of time and the cry of your tormented heart..

Surprisingly, it doesn't take you long to pack. Nor does it take you long to get off work. Two days later, you're standing in the hallway of your house, ready to hand over the keys to your cousin, who's supposed to be selling it.

You stare at the picture Danny took of you and Benny when you were sitting at one of the biker picnics. Benny and you were leaning against his bike. He had his arm over your shoulder and was staring at you with loving puppy eyes while you smiled at the camera.

You sigh, putting the photo into your wallet and impatiently waiting for your cousin.

Just then, there's a knock on your door. You sigh and open it. You freeze, completely shocked, when you see Benny there.

"I didn't hear your bike."

"I parked down the street. So you don't get scared and run away." He says, still leaning against your door frame.

"I'm not scared of you." You huff indignantly, looking at the scratches on his face. You frown, not remembering him getting any injuries from Mike.

"I had an accident."

"Of course you had." You snort, crossing your arms over your chest. You see his jaw quiver slightly, but he just continues to stare at you with those stupid blue eyes of his, like you're the only girl in the world. "I'm leaving." You inform him, swallowing hard and waiting for his reaction. He drops his gaze to your hands and nods.

"I can see that." He says, nodding at the large travel backpack behind you.

"I won't come back." You inform him, carefully observing his reaction to it. Of course, he doesn't show anything. His face is stony as he looks at you, and his facial muscles don't even move as he doesn't reveal a single emotion to you.

"You won't come back." He repeats, not moving an inch from his spot by your door. You clench your teeth in irritation, to which he just smiles. And oh, that damn smile of his...

"That's it. You can go. You always said you'd be the one to leave. Too bad I had to be the one with the balls to do it." You say angrily, ready for him to turn around and walk to his bike, but all he does is continue to stare at you. You shake your head and push past him when you see your cousin.

You ignore Benny as you sort out the details with your cousin. You grab your backpack and walk him back to his car. You say goodbye to him and watch the car drive away. As you turn to go to the bus stop, you bump into Benny's chest.

"Sorry. I didn't see you." You say, quickly pulling away from him and trying to suppress your blush after your hands were briefly on his chest. The damn thing still had some well-trained muscles.

"Give you a lift?" He asks you seemingly innocently and puts his hands in his pockets. His gaze burns you, making your blush stay on your cheeks a little longer.

"Where are you going?" You ask as you both walk in the same direction. You don't feel like going with him, but you're not going to tell him that yet. You know he'll think of anything to make you get on that fucking bike with him.

"Florida." At those words, you freeze and stand still. You swallow and look at him for a long moment as you remember how you once begged him to go to his cousin in Florida and start a new life there. Then he chose his bike. And you chose yourself.

"To your cousin?" You ask carefully, resuming your walk.

"He hired me at his car workshop." Benny nods, walking glued to your side with his hands clasped behind him.

You feel strangely at ease talking to him. You're out of the habit of it. Of having him so close to you, of feeling the warmth of his body close to yours, of his intoxicating scent, of having his hypnotising irises focused on you and of listening to that raspy voice of his.

You missed him.

"You will have a job?" You ask, shocked. You can't imagine a free spirit like Benny finding a permanent job with set hours. "Well... that's good for you. I guess." You comment as you both walk. Suddenly he steps in front of you and stops. You sigh when you see his bike parked exactly two steps away from you. Fuck, you let that son of a bitch lead you to his bike.

"Are you getting in?" He asks, nodding at his bike. And as much as you want to say yes, you know it'll be bad for both you and him.

You shouldn't be together. Or at least you didn't think so. Even though you loved him so damn much.

"I will buy a train ticket." You politely decline his offer. You expect him to nod silently, get on your bike, and ride off into the sunset forever, but he still stands firmly in front of you, blocking your path.

"Where to?" He asks and looks at you suspiciously, as if he knew perfectly well that you didn't know where you were going yet. You only knew that it was definitely far from Benny.

"You don't need to know." You growl stubbornly, trying to get past him and finally move on.

But Benny won't let you. Before you can register any movement, he moves quickly and takes your hands. He wraps them tightly around his waist, and suddenly you hear a metallic click and something cold and heavy being placed on your forearms. Handcuffs. Bloody handcuffs.

"Benny!!" You growl at him angrily and struggle as he walks towards his bike. "Where the hell did you get handcuffs from?"

"Cockroach." He answers shortly and sits down, making you have to follow his lead. He fucking kidnaps you.

"Benny... let me go!" You scream, trying to punch him in the stomach, but the handcuffs are so short and far enough away from your wrists that all you can do is hold on tight as he prepares to ride.

"Even if it's handcuffed, I'm leaving here with you." He tells you calmly, and you stare at him in disbelief. What the fuck?

"Don't joke! Benny!" Either he ignores your screams (which is most likely) or he doesn't hear them because at that very moment he starts the engine of his Harley.

So all you can do is sit behind him, holding on tight as he drives who knows where. Amazingly, he stops at red lights and doesn't go over the speed limit. It's only when he gets to the highway that he drives a little faster than the speed limit, but not enough to be considered dangerous driving.

You rest your cheek against his back in defeat as you realise there is absolutely no way out of this. Not if you want to stay alive. You can feel him relax a little as he rides forward, and you are not trying to fight with him. You sigh, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to rest behind him for a moment, revelling in the feeling of freedom as you whizzed through the air on his bike.

Fuck, you missed it.

The only break you get is a stop at a motel when the fuel runs out and the cold night starts to set in. Benny rents you a room (which is surprising because you were always the one paying) at the motel and leaves you there while he goes to fill up his Harley.

You think about escaping, but:

1. Benny took away the keys and locked you up there.

2. He made sure to rent a room on the highest floor of this damn building.

3. You were too tired and hungry after the ride to come up with some plan.

That's why you lay on the bed and wait for him to come back. Hopefully with food. It would be nice to eat something before you will kill him.

As if on cue, the keys turn in the door, and Benny steps inside. In his hand he has a large paper bag, which he places on the bed opposite you in an apologetic gesture of sacrifice for his sins. He can go to hell. Him and his damn puppy eyes.

"What is it?"

"Burgers. Took it for you. Your favourite." He says and makes sure he's locked the door. He puts the key in the keyhole and goes to the window.

He looks at his bike and takes a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He lights one and looks outside, not sparing you a single glance.

"Where's your jacket?" You ask, seeing as he's not wearing his Vandals' colours. It was weird seeing him in just a T-shirt.

"On a bike in the trunk. I don't know if they'd let me here wearing that."

"You never took it off." You say shocked and raise your eyebrows at him. "You will be cold without it." You notice and take the food out of the bag. You don't eat yet, wondering if you should leave him some, if he even ate anything before he came here.

"I was cold without you." He answers quickly without even thinking much about what he's saying. You see his cheeks redden slightly as he realises he said it out loud. "Eat." He clears his throat and takes a drag on his cigarette. You sigh and start eating. You hum, savouring the delicious food, and you swear you hear him chuckle quietly from his spot by the window. Big bastard.

"Where we going?" You ask him before biting into your burger. You frown as grease leaks onto your fingers. You lick them, unconsciously teasing Benny as he... imagines what your lips wrapped around just as perfectly as they now were wrapped around your fingers. He clears his throat, seeing that you’ve caught him staring at you.

"Florida. I want to show you something." You eat in silence, wondering what he wants to show you that makes him literally chain you to himself and drag you out of town.

"And then?" You can't stand it anymore and finally ask, curious about his future plans and how long he actually wants to keep you with him.

"And then you will decide."

"Decide what? Do I want the fur handcuffs or the regular metal ones?" You snap at him, irritated.

Your sharp mockery makes him throw his cigarette out the window, and his gaze lingers there, as if he were ashamed of what he had done. On the other hand, you didn't give him much of an exit or opportunity to talk normally. You wanted to leave—just like he had promised so many times that he would do. So why did he stubbornly want to keep you if he had never cared?

Benny wasn't one for words. He was sparing with his thoughts and emotions. And for a while, his actions spoke loud enough of his devotion to you. For a while. Then your honeymoon phase wore off, and you were annoyed that he never verbally confirmed to you what his eyes had told you so many times as he held you close by the fire at night at one of the Vandals meetings.

On this particular night, some famous actress that the guys were crazy about was coming to town. Half of them got on their bikes halfway through the party and wanted Benny to join them in hunting her down and taking a picture with her. They even bribed Danny to go with them and take their stupid pictures.

"Come on, Benny. You're not coming with us? I remember you were the one who hung her poster in the club so you could get a good view of her from the pool table." One of the guys was convincing Benny, who was currently lying on the grass and resting his head on your lap, practically forcing you to comb your hands through his blonde locks.

"I have a much better view here!" He shouts at them, not even turning his head in their direction. His blue eyes never leave your face. You blush a little, ducking your head and closing your eyes as you try to ignore the whistles and teasing from the boys at his response.

A moment later, Benny props himself up on his elbows and steals the most delightful, mind-numbing kiss. You cup his cheek in your hand and let yourself sink into the feeling of his soft lips against yours, letting out a quiet sigh when he tangles his hand in your hair and presses you against the trunk of the tree behind you. You ignore the cheering Vandals put on and completely immerse yourself in your little bubble with Benny.

Everyone had their poison. For Benny, it was cigarettes and his Harley. For you, it was him. And back then it didn't bother you one bit.

"I... if you want to go you can. I won't stop you." Benny mumbles under his breath, pulling you from your thoughts. You shake your head, snorting, and set the bag of food on the nightstand next to your bed.

"Thank you so much that you provide me with my basic human rights!" You growl at him angrily, reminding him about those stupid handcuffs.

"You didn't even want to give me a chance to explain myself to you. And you know perfectly well that I never ask for anything or expect anything in return. I... I didn't see any other way to get to you. And I'm not going to apologise for that."

You roll your eyes at him, irritated. But you can't say you don't see the reasoning behind his actions. But the prospect of being dragged around by him deeply offends your innate feminism.

Seeing that you have nothing to add to the matter, he closes the window. He walks over to you and grabs the blanket off the bed. You frown as he sits down in the armchair, clearly intending to sleep there. And you don't like the fact that even though you had him in the same room, you won't be able to have his arms wrapped around you. Especially since it's so damn cold in this motel.

"Come here. You will get sick by sitting near this window. It is cold outside, and they don't even heat the room." You grumble and make room for him on the bed, hoping that you don't have to tell him the real reason you want him next to you to get him in the same bed with you.

"I will be fine." He speaks carelessly and reaches into his pocket for another cigarette.

"Benjamin Cross." You growl at him, which finally gets his full attention. "Get your fucking ass here." Benny rolls his eyes but obediently stands up. He takes off his shoes and lies down next to you in bed.

He covers you with an extra blanket and leaves an absurd amount of space between you that you honestly hate. But you won't make the first move and throw yourself into his arms. Not after he kidnapped you. But... could it really be considered kidnapping if you partly wanted it and you didn't really have anywhere else to be?

You sigh, tossing and turning in your bed as you try to find a slightly comfortable sleeping position. But it's impossible to fall asleep with Benny so close to you when you are not even able to touch him. Especially when his warmth and scent reach you, assaulting you and every ounce of restraint and self-control you had.

"What's the matter with you?" Benny asks as you toss and turn in frustration once again.

"Nothing."

Benny knows that tone. All too well. So he hesitantly moves closer to you and experimentally places a hand on your waist. When you don't push away from him, he gently pulls you toward him and tightens his hold, pressing his chest against your back. You sigh and press your lips to his forearm, rubbing your nose against the tattooed skin.

Benny doesn't comment on that. That's something you like about him. That even when you do completely absurd things, he doesn't comment on it, doesn't deny it, just stands by you in silence. Just like now.

You take his hand in yours and squeeze it so hard that his rings dig into it. But you don't care. It's nice to finally have him this close.

Benny rests his chin on your shoulder and runs his nose against your temple. His beard gently tickles you, but you do nothing about it. It's been a long time since you've had this feeling of him close to you. You turn in his arms and snuggle into him.

Benny gently strokes your back with his hand, holding you close to him without a word as you revel in his scent. For a moment you forget why you should be mad at him and stay as far away from him as possible. So when his lips fall to your forehead and he presses a long kiss there, you grab his chin and steal the kiss from him.

His full, plump lips feel wonderful against yours and caress you nicely. You moan when you can finally taste his lips on yours again, and you remember how much you've missed this feeling. His hand roams over you, and you let him touch you wherever he wants. Benny, on the other hand, is confused. One moment you're yelling at him and you're angry, and the next you want him close to you and you kiss him like there's no tomorrow. It's a nice change. But Benny is afraid of how long it will last. Of how much longer will you want him? And will you want to leave again?

For now, he had you back in his arms. And he wanted to savour that feeling. And he will give you a goddamn reason to stay.

He cups your cheek in his hand and deepens the kiss. His tongue explores your mouth again, as if learning you all over again, before wrapping his tongue around yours. You sigh as his hand slides teasingly from your cheek, down your neck, over the valley of your breasts, and to the hem of your jeans.

"Benny..." You sigh as his cold fingers touch the skin of your stomach after he unbuttons your jeans TOO slowly.

"Do you want me to stop?" Benny almost chuckles at how fast and furious your head is shaking. Your eyes are squeezed shut, your bottom lip bitten in a desperate attempt to keep from making any sound as he gently brushes his fingers over your folds. The motel walls were thin after all. "Open your eyes for me, my little rascal, and say the words. After this, there will be no turning back."

You don't even think about turning back. You don't think about leaving him. You only think about how wonderful it is to have him by your side again, how wonderful his hands feel on you, and how much you want to kiss his stupid mouth until you both have enough breath. And that's exactly what you do.

With that form of agreement from you, his fingers gently delve into your folds, exploring previously familiar territory and teasing you unintentionally as he tries to appreciate every little second he has with you.

Sex with Benny was like that. Unique, intense, a long marathon. Because, as he said, you never know when it's the last time. Although you always prayed that it would never be the last time and that he and you will both live to experience another of your hot sessions.

For now, God listened to a sinner like you...

You almost scream as he digs his long fingers into you up to his knuckles. His rings rub against the entrance of your cunt, the even colder than his fingers metal is making you shiver. Benny kisses and nibbles your neck, leaving a trail of hickies from your lips to your collarbone.

His fingers slide in and out, pushing against that sweet spot inside you that makes you scream his name. His rings push through and enter your vagina, and you can see them glistening with your arousal. And it's fucking hot. As hot as Benny's hard manhood pressing against your thigh.

You dig your nails into his neck and moan into his ear as his thumbs is pressing your swollen clit, working with all his might to bring you to the edge of your orgasm.

You bite your lip, trying to muffle your moans and cries of pleasure so everyone in the motel doesn't hear you, but Benny won't have any of that. He kisses you hungrily and pulls his hand away from you completely. You gasp, lifting your hips and seeking his hand, but he doesn't resume his ministrations until a soft moan escapes your kiss-swollen lips.

"Such a good little desprate girl for me. You take my fingers so damn well now, wrapping your tight unused walls around them, and before when you were scandalously empty, you were a nasty little brat. I shouldn't reward you for running away from me, you know, my sweetest?" He mumbles in your ear with his hoarse voice, still refusing you the touch of his sinfully long fingers.

The tears in your eyes fall freely onto the pillow as you try to gather the last remnants of logical thought to somehow prove yourself to him, because you know you won't come if you just grind against him desperately in the hopes that he'll finally give you more.

"Please Benny… I… oh… I won't leave… I won't leave.."

You tangle your hand in his hair and tug on it, to which he lets out a soft growl from his plump lips. In punishment, he gently nips your collarbone, adding another hickey to the collection, as he thankfully pushes his fingers deep into your velvety wet and eager walls again and tries to bring you immense pleasure.

And it doesn't take him very long. A few thrusts of his fingers, kisses scattered across your neck, collarbone, and cleavage, and you're falling apart beneath him. Your brain is a useless mush as you come from the mere ministrations of his fingers and the dirty words he whispers in your ear. You're drunk on Benny, on the feel of his fingers inside you, his weight on you, and the burning marks his lips leave on your skin.

You lick your lips in anticipation for him to strip down so you can get to the main part, but he just flops onto his side next to you, ignoring the obvious hard soreness in his pants, and wraps his arms around you tightly, pulling you against his chest.

"I missed it." He whispers, kissing your knuckles. You feel his grip on your hand tighten, but he doesn’t move to taste you on his fingers. He simply places your joined hands on his chest, his other hand wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer.

You know this is the closest you'll get to an admission of guilt and an apology from him. So you accept it and gently snuggle into him.

"Good night, Benny." You whisper into his neck. He shivers.

Goosebumps appear on the skin of his neck, but he doesn't move. You just lie there, cuddled up to each other, and he presses a long kiss to the top of your head. You feel fulfilled, satisfied, happy,

He lies under you politely, ignoring his discomfort, and you know that this is some kind of sick punishment for himself. Yet you do nothing to stop it. He has to realise that he can't just take you on his bike and take you to hell knows where. He needs to realise that he can't be such a free spirit anymore if he really wants you. That he can't keep doing the shit he did with the Vandals.

Even if you're happy with how things turned out after he dargged you out of the town.

And when the next day he takes you to Florida and shows you the old family home that he inherited from his deceased father and says that he would love to burn this place down in the past, but now he wants to keep it and renovate it for you if you agree to stay with him as his wife, you know you can't stay mad at him forever. Especially not after he slides one of his rings off his finger and places it securely on yours in a silent promise and understanding between you.

You whether gonna be his wife or gonna smash up his bike, (you haven't decided yet) but in the end you gonna finally make him yours and only yours.

After all, he didn't get you back just for you to leave him again. You will stay with each other until the very end. Even if it would destroy you.

[thebibliosphere]

Wait, is Jason in Gotham Knights body horror? Because it doesn't feel like his body even tho he's controlling it? (He died, he came back, it's not the same and never will be)

Or is it more analogous to puberty and feeling like you don't know anything about your body anymore?

Just having thoughts about that boy again

I think Jason in Gotham Knights is very much connected with his physical body. It's his biggest weapon, possibly more so than his guns, given his lasting connection to the Lazarus Pit and the power it gives him.

His backstory talks about building himself up to peak physical condition into the absolute unit he is now, and you can either see that as someone trying to reconnect with their physical self or someone vowing never to be small or weak again.

I tend to think of it as both. It's a reclamation of his physical form but also a transformation into something bigger and stronger that ensures he's the scariest, meanest-looking mother fucker in the room. Basically someone you can't underestimate as a threat.

(Try not to think too hard about the fact that he now largely resembles Bruce in stature, that he is now the group's heavy hitter, the most menacing and the most likely to strike fear into the heart of his opponents, and that Jason molded himself into the person he needed to be rescued by as a child. Don't do it. Do not. I am normal about this.)

But he obviously struggles with feeling present mentally sometimes.

You'll see him zoning out occasionally, touching the J-shaped scar on his face before violently shaking himself back into the present.

He has panic attacks while playing a dance video game with a coffin in it—a coffin his character becomes trapped in because he's not moving fast enough. (hello, trauma)

He's angry all the time and so relieved when Barbra expresses her own rage at something because, yes, finally, someone else is letting their emotions out instead of bottling it up (Dick).

His emails are littered with orders for self-help books, emails from his therapist moving his sessions around, and concerned messages from his friends (Roy comes to mind) saying if he needs to get out of Gotham, they'll make it happen.

Alfred holding him while he sobs over losing Bruce still breaks me every time. I have to pause the game and walk around my house until I feel normal again.

And then there's the cut scene where Dick asks, "Hey, remember that time we all [insert funny thing here]," and Jason admits, somewhat angrily, that no, he doesn't because Lazarus took entire swaths of memories from him and he hates how he can't connect with people the way he used to and he hates the way they all look at him (the way Dick is looking at him now) when he admits he doesn't remember something they clearly loved about the old him: the version of him who didn't have volatile mood swings or made people flinch when he did something as mundane as handle a kitchen knife -- the undead monster he came back as*.

The fact that Dick then contrives to recreate this memory so Jason can be included in a newer version of it -- while also giving him what is arguably a weapon -- fucks me up every time. Dick just yeets a kitchen knife at him, trusting that Jason will catch it, and then just steamrolls over Jason's rightful 'what the fuck' expression with "Hey, we're making food. Get dicing."

And Jason knows what they're all doing. He's aware of it, and he gets the teeniest, tiniest smile before smothering it out. Except he can't quite. He's still smiling as he chops the vegetables. And yes, they're all hopeless at cooking compared to him, and he knows he's going to end up taking over, but that's okay. Because this is for him. He gets to control it.

And that's how Jason gets to make a new memory, one where he is handed a weapon and gets to turn it into a genuine expression of nurturing and care.

Because he does care about them. He wouldn't conspire with Dick to bake Barbara's favorite childhood cookies if he didn't. He wouldn't try so hard to be gentle with Tim triggering the shit out of him while he's struggling with his grief. He just doesn't always know how to express it because he doesn't always know what he's feeling.

Is his anger valid? Or is this Lazarus Pit Rage? Is he being overly sensitive because of his trauma, or is everyone else underreacting because of their trauma? (Should he sign them all up for therapy, quite probably, yes.)

So, you could perhaps argue that Jason experiences body horror in the sense that he doesn't remember all the pieces of who he used to be. (Speaking as someone with severe memory loss from medical trauma, it's certainly a type of horror.) But I don't think it's because he's detached from it physically or doesn't feel in control of his body. I think it's his mind that worries him.

His body he can control. It's his mind that still sparks green sometimes.

---

*Re the scene with Tim when Tim calls the Talons monsters. "What about me? Do you think I'm a monster?"

No, they don't.

But Jason does. And it scares him shitless.

[20-th-centurygirl]

work for it

jude bellingham x reader

a/n: based on this because i can't get over it

summary: jude slides into your dms and what follows is something you could have never imagined

navigation masterlist

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

instagram:

judebellingham started following you

surely not? why was the jude bellingham following you??

yourusername added to their story

↳ judebellingham: 😍😍

yourusername: hello 🤨

judebellingham: hey

judebellingham: just wanted to say i think you're gorgeous

yourusername: thank you 🫶

judebellingham: anytime

you couldn't actually believe what you were seeing. jude bellingham calling you gorgeous? what sort of dream were you living in? you tried not to get too excited, you'd heard all about his reputation and he'd probably never give you a second thought. but you were wrong.

2 days later

instagram

judebellingham: hey

judebellingham: how are you doing

yourusername: i'm doing great

yourusername: how are you doing? i saw your last few madrid games and you played great

judebellingham: thanks. i'm good

judebellingham: maybe you should come to a game one day 😉

the next 6 months that followed were a dream. you'd exchanged phone numbers with jude a month after your first conversation and you'd spoken every day since. you'd congratulated him after every win and comforted him after every loss. facetiming eachother became your nightly routine and you couldn't believe how lucky you were.

but you tried to take it all with a grain of salt. jude had a reputation of being a player, something you already knew and had been reminded of by your friends. you were more than a fuck and you wanted jude to know that.

jude: hey love

jude: i've got a big game and i was wondering if you want to come and then stay over with me for a few days? i really wanna see you again

you: i'll try to come but i don't know if i'll be able to get the time off

jude: just let me know so i can get enough tickets x

you didn't really know how to react. you loved meeting jude for the first time, but the idea of going over to stay with him scared you. you'd started to really like jude, and worried that he only wanted to get you to come over to him so sleep with you.

you knew all about his reputation, and you didn't think you knew him well enough so you slowly distanced yourself from jude.

jude: can you come? we haven't spoke in a few days and i need to know

you: i can't come sorry. the next weeks just super busy for me :(

the following week consisted of you and jude barely speaking. you felt bad about it, you didn't mean to upset him but you didn't want to get your hopes up. you'd heard about footballers and the way they had casual hookups then ignored girls. you didn't want that. you were worth more than that and you didn't want to get hurt by jude because he didn't have the same intentions as you.

but jude was on the exact same page as you. he didn't understand why you'd just basically disappeared, had he done something wrong? did he make you feel like he was rushing you? he'd tried to call you, but you didn't answer, instead texting him a simple "sorry i've been busy lately" and leaving him alone.

at first jude tried to appreciate that you were just abit busy. he knew you cared alot about your studies and work and were independent, but he couldn't help feeling a bit hurt. nothing in your routine had actually changed, and jude had started to get the impression you were ignoring him on purpose.

you wouldn't answer his calls and barely texted him, so he decided to come to you. he messaged one of your closest friends that he'd met before and asked her to help him suprise you.

the pounding on your door abruptly woke you up, and you swung it open with a scowl on your face until you saw who was behind it. your eyes locked with judes, and you couldn't actually believe he was infront of you holding the biggest bunch or roses you'd ever seen.

jude's heart melted at the sight of you. your hair messy, a duvet wrapped about you and a tired grin on your face. "jude?"

"hi" his voice was shakey but he smiled widely regardless.

"what're you doing here? come in you're gonna get ill"

he stepped in, shutting the door behind him but he didn't dare move any further. "i'm sorry. if you want me to leave i will but i just wanted to see that you were ok. we've suddenly just stopped speaking and i was worried that i pressured you. i'm sorry if i made you think i was pushing you to get too serious to fast. i just really like you"

"seriously?"

"yes"

"jude i'm so sorry. i didn't wanna upset you i just got scared. i know all about footballers reputations and yours and i just didn't wanna be another girl that you just sleep with then ignore" you felt mean saying it. super mean.

"what? look i've done that before but you're so so different. everything about you is so perfect. your laugh, your eyes, how kind you are, the way you always see the best in people. i've known you for six months but i feel like i've known you all my life. you're literally perfect. i'm sorry if i made you feel like i didn't see you that way. i will do whatever it takes to prove to you how much you mean to me" he brought his hands up to cup your cheeks and you leaned into them, the warmth of his palms and his words making love wash over you.

"i really really like you jude" you mumbled, and he grinned wide "good cause i really really like you too"

"y'know, if you can still get me tickets i'll come to your matches"

"don't feel like you have to baby"

"i do. i want us to spend more time together jude"

he pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you. "d'ya wanna go and get breakfast tomorrow? it can be our first proper date" he lightly pinched your side, melting when he felt a smile form on your face. "i'd like that"