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jasntodds · 1 year

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Caving In [Book 1 End]

Pairing: Gar Logan x Fem!Powered!Reader, Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader

Words: 15,158

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, angst, canon violence, blood, mentions of injuries (bruising, being shot with a tranquilizer), canon character death, fluff, mentions of torture, mentions of being brainwashed

Summary: ❝Tell me Atlas: What is heavier, The world or its people’s hearts?❞ You never expected your life to end up this way, turned upside down by an infamous Gotham villain. It’s been a living hell, every single day, until Dick Grayson brings you to Titans tower where you meet Gar Logan and Jason Todd.

A/N: Uh, hi!! It’s the last chapter of book 1 and I just wanna say a very big thank you to all of you who’ve been reading 😭 Your comments have literally kept me posting and have meant so much to me!! I really hope you guys like this chapter!! I will have chapter 1 of book 2 up in 2 weeks and then weekly after that!! lol There’s a longer author’s note at the end about this book and book 2!! You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!!

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The women and you go back to the tower. Donna and Dawn explain what the man told them. They’re planning something, that’s more of the information they got from the guy they “spoke” to. So, the only option, at the moment is to wait and try to come up with a plan to storm CADMUS before they can execute their plan. But, you’ll still need more help because Donna, Dawn, and you don’t have nearly enough power or resources to get you all in and out of CADMUS alive, so you’re all back to waiting.

You spend a lot of the time in the training room throwing knives as you wait. Waiting has to be the worst part of this whole thing. The longer you wait, the more Gar is in danger. Donna and Dawn tried to reassure you that if CADMUS is planning something, that means Gar is at least alive. Sure, that’s good, of course it is but what are they doing to him while he’s alive? As someone who’s been tortured twice, you know that it’s a hell of a lot easier wanting to be dead than tortured. Gar is strong but it’s not fair. It shouldn’t have been him.

After a few hours, you take a break and head to the kitchen, hoping for an update from Donna and Dawn, but as you walk in, the elevator doors open revealing Jason. A rush of relief floods you as a warm smile splits your face with the sight of him. You waste no time in walking up to him just as he exits the elevator. Jason can’t help the smile that comes to his face as he sees you. He can’t even believe how much he’s missed you. It’s been a week. But, you wrap your arms around his neck and he feels warm again. The hollow feeling in his chest starts to fill with adoration as he wraps his arms around your waist. Jason Todd is not much of a hugger but he’d take a hug from you any day.

“Miss me?” Jason quips as you pull away, his eyes landing on the bruise on your cheek. It looks a lot worse in person.

“Eh, a little.” You shrug one of your shoulders, looking to the ground and back to him. “Thank you for coming, Jay.”

“Yeah,” Jason’s eyes look up and back to you. “You’d do the same for me, so would Gar.”

“You came.” Donna states as she comes around the hall, Dawn on her right.

“I’m here for Gar.” Jason’s tone switches and he’s, rightfully, still a little bitter about what happened.

“Thank you for coming, Jason.” Dawn offers him a kind smile and Jason just nods, looking back to you.

“Well, I’m gonna go fill him in.” You give the women a gentle smile. "Unless...there's an update?"

"No," Dawn shakes her head sadly. "You can fill him in."

You let out a sigh, nodding your head and chewing the inside of your cheek. You grab Jason's hand and tug him along with you, passing past the women, and head to the training room. Jason catches you still limping slightly and he figured the fight with CADMUS was bad but you clearly got hurt. He kind of gets why you were so insistent that night with Deathstroke. It’s different seeing each other injured at the hands of someone, now that you know each other.

You take a seat on the floor and Jason follows your lead, just as you both did that night just a few months before. You extend your legs in front of you while Jason extends his left leg, his right leg bent up and his foot planted on the floor. Both of your hands rest on the floor behind you.

It feels a little weird being back. The tower is feels empty, sure, but it’s kind of like it’s haunted. A cruel reminder of everything Jason isn’t, of everything he could have been but failed at being. It’s not reassuring or comforting or welcoming, but he looks at you, and he’s glad he came, if only for a night or two.

“Spill your guts.” Jason grins at you because of course, he remembers what he told you that night.

“Ha-ha, you’re hilarious.” Your eyes widen before your sad smile drops. “Well, CADMUS attacked and we did not stand a chance.” You let out a dry laugh. “Like, they just kept coming in. Gar transformed and uh, we were in the kitchen so I started grabbing knives, got a few of them.”

“Good.” Jason scoffs.

“Yeah, but uh, they shot me with a tranquilizer?” You roll your eyes. “I don’t really remember much. Just, Gar in front of me and not a tiger anymore. I woke up and they were gone. I called you, then Dick, then Kory. Then everyone else, but Donna was the only one that called back. She showed up a few hours later. Then she got a call from Rachel saying she was in danger or something so we went to this diner? Bruce showed up?”

“Why the fuck was Bruce there?”

“I have no fucking idea? He set it up, I guess? I have no idea. So, uh, Dick got himself arrested.”

Jason lets out a booming laugh. “No shit? Goody fucking toe-shoes Dicky Grayson got arrested?”

“Yep! So, Rachel wanted to rescue Dick first and I wanted to rescue Gar first.”

“Why the fuck would you rescue Dick? He put himself there.”

“That’s what me and Donna said!” You yell dramatically. “So, we argued about it and she made me really mad so I punched her in the face.”

Jason has a smile of disbelief crossing his lips. He would never hit Rachel outside of sparring, especially after she almost killed him but he’s surprised you did. He knows she must have really gotten under your skin if you’re the one throwing punches first. And, he is very curious what exactly Rachel could have said that finally got you to snap especially since you said you aren’t normally the one to throw punches.

“Over Gar and Dick?” Jason questions with the nod of his head.

“Well, I--no, like there was more to it. I don’t know. She was throwing shit in my face and I said she was a wounded puppy.” You start explaining, Jason unable to control his laughter. He knows it’s true but he would have killed to have seen the look on Rachel’s face. “So, she said that I was because I was mad about the stuff that happened with you and this was after she tried to tell me what I was going to do, save Dick and not Gar.” You roll your eyes as Jason’s laughter subsides and it clicks.

The last straw for you was a comment about him? He knows he means something to you because you’ve said it a thousand times and you make it so obvious, even Jason can’t miss it. But, he didn’t think you’d still be fighting over him when he’s not around. It means more to him than he’ll ever say.

“You punched her because she called you a wounded puppy?” Jason raises his brows.

“Well….” Your eyes look to the side and then up, as if to be in thought before you land back on Jason who has one of his devious smirks. “Yeah, I guess. Like, she was so…” You scrunch your nose as you shake your head. “She also implied I was self-absorbed.” Jason’s face scrunches and he swears you’re one of the least self-absorbed people he’s ever met. Has Rachel not met the rest of the Titans? “And then!” You say dramatically. “She kept going after I punched her. She said that Gar deserves better and that you left me and for 'Deathstroke’s daughter'." You mock the way Rachel said. “It was so fucking stupid.”

“That’s fucking shitty. Who the fuck does she think she is? She chose Dick over Gar but he deserves better than you? There’s no one better than you.” The comment leaves Jason’s lips so quickly he barely even catches he said it. You eye him carefully but choose to brush over the comment. It’s not right to dig into that right now.

“I mean, she has a point and I told her that.” You let out a laugh. “It’s true, I’m not delusional enough to think otherwise but, that’s not the point. It’s not her fucking business.” You shake your head. “And you left for your own reasons and it was shitty to say like you weren’t even there.” Your brows raise as your eyes go wide. “So, her and Kory went to break Dick out of prison, I guess and we came here to come up with a plan to save Gar, Conner, and Krypto. That’s what ya missed.”

“Shit, fuck Rachel. She's not even worth it.” Jason lets out a huff. He really did miss a lot. “You guys think of a plan?”

You shake your head. “Donna and Dawn have the blueprints to CADMUS but they haven’t figured out how we’re going to break in and then out without getting ourselves killed.”

“Yeah, I’m sure they have security up the ass.” Jason sighs. “Could Trojan Horse it.”

You let out a laugh. “Yeah? And how do you suggest we pull that off?”

“I have no fucking idea.” Jason laughs with you. “It’s better than nothing.” Jason leans forward slightly, extending his arm dramatically.

“Right, but we don’t wanna die tonight.” You shake your head. “I don’t know, we’ll figure it out though.” You suck in a breath.

You furrow your brows with the shake of your head and talking about Gar, the lack of plan, it’s making things a little too heavy. There’s the guilt of it all and the trauma still haunting the back of your head because of Jerry and Deathstroke. You feel like Gar might be going through worse right now and it’s a little much. You’ve had nothing to do for two days now besides think about it. You’re tired of thinking. And you’re tired of the guilt wrapping itself around your bones like barbed wire. A distraction would be nice right about now.

“Can we…talk about something else? Just been thinking about what they could be doing to Gar and it’s just…” You look at Jason and you don’t have to say it. He knows.

Jason’s worried about you. When Dick brought Rose back, you had a nightmare, that’s why you ended up in Gar’s room. You were weird, you said it was too much that brought everything back that you had went through. It made it all real again. Gar just got kidnapped and you’re worried he’s being tortured. Jason can only imagine the hell you’re putting yourself through because of it and the hell your own mind is putting you through bringing all of that shit back up again. So, he’s worried you’ll be the next one on the ledge.

“How’re you and Gar? Well, before this shit happened.” Jason asks, picking a topic he thinks might cheer you up. Maybe you’ll have a story, something fun that happened.

“Um…” You look down and back to him, shrugging a shoulder. That’s not what you want to talk about either but you’ll go along with it for now. “Like, we’re…friends.” You nod at him and Jason’s brows furrow.

He thought for sure one of you would say something to each other, especially with you being alone here. He expected Gar to say something, not necessarily you. But that does explain, kind of, the lucky comment from earlier.

“Did you pussy out of--”

“Shut up.” You groan. “No,” You shake your head, eyes narrowing at him. “I…I don’t know.” You chew the inside of your cheek and you don’t know how to explain you and Gar aren’t a thing because you chose Jason. That it’s him and it always has been. Jason just had this thing blow up with Rose and Gar is in trouble. Having some discussion about that, does not seem very fair. And Jason is watching you with a brow knitted inward, knowing something is going on. It can’t be that complicated of an answer. So, you pick a different direction that isn’t a lie, really. “I don’t think we’d work and I’m not gonna do that to him or me.”

“Why not?” Jason asks. “That you wouldn’t work?”

He’s confused. The two of you were fine, seemed like you might go for something when he left and now, nothing. It seems a little weird to him and he thinks you would work. Why wouldn’t you? And he hates that a part of him might even be relieved by it. It might be a little selfish, but it’s true.

“Gar is ya know, Gar. It’s like…nothing can ever keep him down. He’s always happy and kind and fun. Always and I am not those things, which is fine. It’s not me. But, because of that, even as friends, sometimes I feel a bit like a burden to him.”

It’s not a lie because it’s true. You know Gar isn’t making you feel like a burden, but you feel that way anyway. You’re really different and that’s fine and great, it’s one of the reasons you work as friends. He mellows you out. But, it is one of the reasons you know you like Jason more. On top of your feelings for Jason, it wouldn’t be fair to try and see where it goes with Gar if you’ll always feel like a burden to him. It’s not fair to either of you.

Jason shakes his head. “You’re not a burden.” His words are slow and he still has a look of confusion.

He still has no idea why that change happened in the last week and not...any other time before that. The only thing that happened in that time, aside from the attack, was the stuff with him and the other Titans. And maybe he’s actively convincing himself that is just a coincidence.

“Yeah, but it feels that way because it feels like he’s sorted through all of his trauma and then I still have this shit I didn’t deal with. And I can’t…do that with him because he talks and that’s great, right? It works for him and it helps me but….I also sometimes can’t talk about it. You get it and I know you do. I’m reckless and despite what we learned from Deathstroke, I gotta feeling that’s not always gonna stop me from doing something insane later. It’s…I feel like he wants to fix me but not that it’s anything that he’s doing or saying or anything like that. It’s a me problem, not a Gar problem, like, maybe he thinks sorting out my shit will make me better in a way that I’m not meant to be. It happened and I think I’m permanently fucked up from it. I know he is not trying to fix me but I feel that way anyway. I don’t know, feel a bit like damaged goods.”

Jason gets it. His entire life he’s felt like damaged goods but he’s looking at you with a deep bruise you’re only wearing because you’d go to war for people you care about. That’s not someone who’s just damaged goods. And Jason swears he’ll do everything in his power to make sure you know that.

“You’re not damaged goods.” Jason states and he doesn’t have his signature smirk. “Going through that shit doesn’t make you damaged or some shit. You’re still you.”

“Mmm.” You hum and you gain this sad smile, dodging his eyes. “Yeah, but, uh, it-it, uh it feels like it anyway.”

“Not to me.” Jason shrugs and he said it on purpose. It doesn’t matter to him what you go through or that you’ll always be reckless, always looking for the next thrill because he’ll always do the same. You’re not damaged goods, not to him.

Your face softens and your stomach flips. That’s why it’s always been him. You don’t feel damaged with him. “That’s awfully nice of you, Jay.”

Jason gives you a cheeky grin. “I can be nice.”

You let out a laugh and you swear everything is a little bit better with him around. “Yeah, you can be.” You offer him a thankful smile. “Thanks for coming.”

“You and me.” Jason repeats what you normally say to him and you swear your heart is about to burst into flames.

“You and me.” You let out a sigh, looking down and then back to him. It’s enough about you. “Seriously, you okay about Rose? I know you really liked her.”

Jason knows Rose is going to be a sore spot for a little while. He just feels so betrayed. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve it or why she wouldn’t have just told him. Had she just told him, maybe he wouldn’t have been nearly as mad or upset about it. So, it sucks but he knows he’ll be fine. He has been with every other person that’s betrayed him and mistreated him. He’s used to it.

Jason nods. “Yeah, I’ll be alright. Just fucking sucks. Got me feeling a bit like damaged goods.” Jason lets out a laugh, an almost teasing grin tugging at his lips before it falls. “Ya know, like, I tried really hard with her. Taking her out, showing her that school I told you about, acts of service type shit.” Jason’s eyes widen. “And she treated me like shit, pushing me away, lying to me, using me. Sleeping with me and knowing she was fucking lying the whole damn time.” Jason grits his teeth getting angry about it all over again. “Nothing I did was fucking good enough even when I tried.”

You were hoping you were wrong about Rose. Truly, you didn’t even dislike her until the day they left. It was a bad day for everyone but you were right and you wish so badly you weren’t. Jason doesn’t deserve any of that. He’s already gone through too much shit, especially over the last two weeks.

“You don’t deserve it. You put in a lot of effort, you trusted her. That shit, that’s on her. She gets to live with what she did to you. She doesn’t deserve you. She gets to live with the fact she’s the one that fucked it all up, not you. You deserve so much fucking better, Jay. It was enough, she just fucking sucks.” You let out a scoff before looking back to him. “And you’re not damaged goods.” You give him a kind smile. “Not to me.” Jason could never be damaged goods to you.

Jason chuckles softly, his cheeks starting to tint a faint shade of pink, his heart throbbing into his vocal cords. “Thanks.” Jason smiles softly at you and it should have been you he left with. “You’re good at that.”

Your brows furrow. “Good at what?”

“Knowing what to say.”

Your cheeks start to burn. “Just being honest with you.” You rub your eye, wincing from the pain.

Jason scoots closer to you, you keep your hands firmly on the ground, watching him with suspicion. Jason reaches forward, turning your head as he holds your chin to get a look at the bruise and your skin is on fire, tingling under his touch. Your heart is in your throat and your breath is caught right at the base of your throat. This is new. And Jason just wants to look at it, make sure your cheek isn’t broken. He’s been a hit a time or several there and it’s always unpleasant. And this bruise looks really deep, he tells himself he’s just making sure you’re actually okay. Physically. But it gets his blood warming with the idea another person caused it.

“What’d they hit you with?” Jason’s voice is lower this time, dropping his hand.

“Butt of a gun, fucking assholes.” You scoff, your voice on the verge of breathy as you try to ignore the fire in your stomach. “Shit hurt.”

Jason chuckles softly, leaning back on his hands. “Yeah, that’ll do it.” He shakes his head. “Sure it’s not broke?”

You shrug. “I have no idea. Probably not, my face isn’t deformed or anything. Doesn’t hurt that bad.”

“Did you ice it?” Jason asks and you find it a little cute and very cute he’s asking about it.

“No,” You laugh and Jason groans. “I was icing my damn leg. That is the shit that hurts.”

“Yeah, what’s that about? You’re the one limping now.” Maybe he regrets leaving. Maybe he could have helped, in some way.

“That’s where I was shot with the tranquilizer.” You roll your eyes. “The bruise is like half the size of my thigh.”

Jason cringes at the thought of it. “Ouch.” Jason shakes his head. “You sure you’re alright?”

You smirk at him and he’s cute when he’s being protective. He should do it more often. “You trying to take care of me, Jay?” Maybe you’d let him if he offered. You take care of him.

Jason's cheeks shoot red as his eyes look to the ceiling and back to you, doing his best to ignore his heart in his ears. “Someone should.” Jason lets his words out sarcastically but of course he is. Always.

You suck on your teeth and you’re trying so hard not to give him the satisfaction of a genuine smile, but you can’t help it. You fucking missed him. “Yeah, same for you.” Your eyes widen at him as you rest your head on his knee. “I’m fine, thank you though. Honest, just hurts still. How’s your leg?”

“All good.” Jason smiles down at you and he swears that can’t possibly be comfortable. “Doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Good.” Your smile is soft and Jason swears the ache in his chest from Rose doesn’t hurt so much with you.

Jason debates in his head. He’s not gonna say anything, that is for certain. He thought Rose wouldn’t be like that. Rose went through some really horrible shit, her own dad cut out her eye. Jason kind of thought because of that, she’d get him…kind of like you do. He wouldn’t feel less than or not good enough because she’d get it. But, she…treated him like everyone else but worse because he really, really let her in ways he doesn’t normally. And she screwed him over anyway. Everything with them was actually fine at the tower but they get away from it all, from the Titans and people, it’s just them and then…she keeps lying to him and using him. You are not Rose, but, there is a part of him that thinks maybe the same exact shit would happen because why wouldn’t it?

But, his mind wanders back to you kissing him anyway. Maybe it’s an easy distraction from worrying about Gar. But, he thinks about it and his reasoning of not wanting you to die for him and ruining you like he ruins everyone. And you’re looking at him with soft eyes he doesn’t think he deserves it because he left. Because he turned you down. Because he tries to pushes you away, even if he isn’t very good at it. And he debates if any of that was ever the right decision. So, he decides that testing the waters a little, will ease his mind.

“So,” He furrows his brows and dodges yoru eyes for a second. “You and Gar, just…not gonna be a thing?”

You smirk at him, picking your head up and he’s got that coy look he gets when he’s trying to play something off and failing miserably. “Why? Does that pique your interest, Jay?” You’re back to the asking game and that feels comfortable. There’s no pressure in it.

Jason shrugs one shoulder. “Nope.” He tries his best to wipe the grin from his face but he can’t help it.

“Mhm, okay. Whatever you say, birdboy.” You lick your lips. “Nah, not gonna be a thing.” You want to mess with him a little. You’ve missed that a lot. “Kind of into someone else anyway.” You scrunch your nose and Jason snaps his eyes at you, a devious look in his eyes.

“Yeah? And who's that?” There's a teasing smirk on his face while his tone is taunting, as if knowing you’re not going to tell him or that you’ll have some bullshit answer just to mess with him.

You shrug dramatically. “We should join the others.” You have an uncontrollable smirk on your lips and Jason is ready to burst.

“You’re not gonna fucking tell me? Just gonna leave me hanging?” Jason chuckles, his eyes wide.

“We don’t always get what we want, Jason Todd.” You let a laugh fall from your lungs and Jason swears it should have been you.

“Yeah? And what do you want?” Jason cocks his head to the right, taunting you.

A part of you almost blurts it right out, get it out in the open despite better judgment. A part of you almost blurts out to see the look on his face. He’ll get flustered and red will creep from his cheeks down to his neck. His muted forest green eyes will suddenly be a shade closer to the northern lights and you’ll have a good laugh and maybe you’ll get what you want. But, you can’t bring yourself to do it. He just had that with Rose and is still hurt by it. You both have Gar to worry about it and you think it might be shitty if you show up to rescue him and you’ve had this inevitable conversation. And what if he’s fucking with you? Like always. What if, despite everything, he still doesn’t want you? You want him, and you swear you probably always will, but what if he still doesn’t want you? That’s gonna hurt, too. So, you shake your head and decides you’ll tell him but not now. You do, however, decide to have a different conversation.

“Okay, seriously,” You drop the smile and Jason leans forward slightly. “Been thinking about it a little, between worrying about Gar and stuff, the Titans leaving and shit.” You start and Jason is hanging onto every word. He has no idea where this is going. “I wanna go home.”

Jason freezes, the conversation taking a turn. Home? “Like Gotham?” His brows shoot up and he’s not even sure why he’s surprised. You always call Gotham home.

You nod your head softly, chewing the inside of your cheek. “Yeah, uh, I haven’t said anything to anyone. But, yeah. I miss it and honestly, I think it’s just….I like it here and everything. It’s just…I would like to go back and kind of figure out myself. Dick rescued me and I’ll always appreciate that and never forget it. He gave me a shot here and that’s awesome but, I was thrown into this and I think I just…need to go back and find a part of myself again.”

“What do you mean?”

Between everything that’s happened, being here is a lot. At the end of the day, this is the city Jerry bought you to and kept you locked away, tortured you. This is the city that gave you powers you don’t even want. This is the tower that saw you paranoid, waking up screaming from nightmares. Burning Gar. This is the city where you were kidnapped and nearly murdered by Deathstroke. This is the tower that was supposed to be safe, but was attacked anyway. There is so much hidden in these walls, beyond just you that’s impacted everything. You like to run when things get hard and things are really fucking hard right now. You want to go home, a place that you know like the back of your hand. Gotham is always going to be Gotham, but it’s where you’ve always felt the most comfortable and…somehow, safest. And Gotham holds parts of you that are not here. You believe that home is where the heart is but you left part of your heart in Gotham and you want that back.

“I will never be who I was before. But I would like to find some of those parts again. My mom is buried in Gotham. I was…happy there though. Despite fucking everything, I was still happy. And…I…I don’t know.”

“Are you not happy here?”

“No, I am but…it’s different. It might just be the trauma.” You let out a scoff. “But, I was happier there and I just…want to go home. So fucking much,” Your breath is shaky as your brows furrow. “So fucking much has happened in this city and….honestly, I only stayed because I couldn’t abandon Gar. I couldn’t leave him alone and I thought not running, for once, would be good but….” You look to the ground before pulling your legs to your chest, wrapping your arms around your legs and then looking back to Jason. “More shit just happened and…” You let out a breath. “I’m tired, Jay.”

You look tired. You aren’t smirking or grinning at him. Your eyes are dull and you literally look tired and sad. Jason’s chest aches looking at you and he worries a little bit more about you. The ghosts that roam the tower, do more than affect the original Titans. They affect everyone who lives here, on top of their own ghosts that want to follow and taunt them. If anyone in this place deserves to be happy, it would be you.

“Where would you go?” Jason questions and he knows you’re impulsive but he's got a feeling this is something you’ve been thinking about over the last week.

You shrug. “Figure it out.” You let out a broken laugh. “Did before and CPS can’t do shit now, so.” You let out a deep breath, tugging the sleeves of your hoodie over your hands.

Jason would be lying if the thought of asking you to come to Gotham with him didn’t cross his mind when you said you and Gar were a no-go. It was less than a split second but he knew he’d never be able to ask. There’d be no way he’d put that on you, going back to the shitshow of Gotham. But, if you want to do it anyway…

Jason pulls his other leg to his chest, resting his forearms on his knees. “Okay, are you really wanting to do it? Like, no bullshit or whatever. You wanna go back to Gotham?”

You nod. “Mhm. Too heavy here right now.” You dodge your stare to Jason’s hands, catching a glimpse of faint bruising on his knuckles.

Jason gives you an understanding nod. “Want me to talk to Bruce?" The words flow from his mouth like a gentle river, easy and smooth.

Your heart stops in your chest as you snap your eyes to Jason’s. “What? Talk…to Bruce?”

Jason nods. “Not letting your ass go back to the streets. If you’re fucking serious about going back to Gotham, I can talk to Bruce. I know you don’t like him, but it’s a roof over your head, a warm bed, food. In Gotham.”

You adore him. That’s the only thing that’s running through your head. It’s running over and over and over, on loop like a broken record. You adore him for everything he is and everything he isn’t. Asking Bruce, is something you never thought he would do. That is his thing. More so than even reading seems to be because that’s where he’s Robin. But, he offers anyway.

And he offers because he’ll always take care of you. And keep you safe. No matter what.

“You’d really do that?”

“Hell yeah.” Jason gives you a grin, the beating of his heart stutters. “Be more fun if you were there anyway.” Jason shrugs.

“Thank you, Jay.” You smile softly. “I’d really like that.”

“I’ll talk to him, sure he’ll be fine with it. You know he likes strays.” Jason gives you a cheeky grin and you let out a laugh, looking down and then back to him. Jason is relieved you’re okay with it. Maybe even a little thrilled.

“Yeah, when are you gonna start plucking strays? Bruce then Dick, you’re next Batboy.” You point a finger at him and you think he might be good at it, better than Bruce and Dick.

Jason lets out a groan, tilting his head back. “That's the meanest shit you’ve ever said to me.”

Your laugh booms off the walls and Jason’s heart nearly melts through his ribs. “I think it’s probably their best quality!”

Jason’s never felt this before. Not exactly the heart thundering and stuttering or the clammy hands or cheeks aching from smiling too much. But, the comfort he feels with you. The ease of how the conversation moves between you, how it goes from serious to banter to serious, so easily. He’s never had that with anyone before. You’re both worried about your best friend but with each other, you find your own way to deal with it and handle it rather than training yourselves into the ground while waiting. Jason has never felt so comfortable in a place he does not feel welcomed and it’s because of you. He is so sure of that.

Just then, Donna walks in, gathering yours and Jason’s attention.

“Kory and Rachel are here, we’re gonna try to come up with a plan.” Donna states.

“No Dick?” You ask and Donna shakes her head, a look of annoyance on her face.

“Do not say anything.” Donna warns and Jason gains a grin before getting to his feet. “Either of you, please.”

“I won’t, just asking.” You defend while Jason extends a hand to you.

“I don’t have shit to say to her.” Jason lets out a scoff.

You grab his hand and get to your feet. The two of you follow Donna to the kitchen where Dawn and Kory are standing at the center counter and Rachel is seated on the same countertop. Jason and you head to the opposite side of Kory while Donna stands between you and Dawn.

“You’re back.” Rachel states with confusion as she looks at Jason.

“Was told you guys needed the help.” Jason deadpans and he also doesn’t want to deal with Rachel right now.

“Okay, well, we have news about Dick.” Kory states before Rachel can respond.

Rachel and Kory go off to explain that Dick wasn’t in his cell. He must have escaped with the other prisoners or something. Again, you sit there thinking about how you were right and Rachel was wrong about this. Dick could handle himself. He went off to wallow in his own self-pity and now he’s free. It’s like you thought would happen. But, you listen anyway as they get to the weirder stuff about Dick writing on his cell walls that Jericho is alive.

“Well, one thing’s for sure. He’s clearly lost his mind.” Donna says.

“But, I keep having these dreams about Dick being killed by Deathstroke.” Rachel says as she’s seated with her legs crossed on the counter. “And they’re going away. We need to do something about that.”

Jason shifts his weight to his left leg as he crosses his arms. You watch his jaw clench and you know he wants to say something so you move a little closer to him, your arm resting against his. When he looks at you with a quirked brow, you offer him a faint but calm smile. It’s not worth it. You have Gar to worry about not Rachel’s dreams and Dick escaping prison. He’ll be fine.

“I believe you.” Donna says. “But we have bigger problems right now.” Donna flips the case of the iPad open, showing blueprints of the CADMUS building.

“Okay, what’s the plan?” Rachel lets out a sigh and you bite your tongue.

Now that Rachel got to do what she wanted, now she’s on board with saving Gar. You can feel your blood wanting to boil. It’s just so ridiculous and it’s not even like you can say anything because you’ll just argue again and you’re tired of arguing and fighting. So, you bite your tongue and Jason catches you stiffen next to him. It’s his turn to give you a nudge and shake his head. You grin at him and jerk your head toward the women where you stand Donna and Dawn, furthest away from Rachel so you can still see what’s going on.

"Well, the main CADMUS building closes at 9 and security drops down to 10. There's two at each gate and then six roaming inside." Kory explains.

"Okay, what about the lab?" Donna asks as she zooms in.

"Whole different story." Dawn says. "It's a twenty-four-hour operation and in the last week, they've doubled up the guard. Four six-hour shifts, 10 bodies around the clock. Sounds like that's where the party's at."

"Okay, well, let's crash it." Donna says.

"Finally." You let out a sigh.

"It's about damn time." Jason lets out a scoff.

"Oh, so we're just gonna break in CADMUS and get Conner and Gar out of there. Just the six of us?!" Rachel questions.

"Do you have a better idea?" You quip, unable to hold your tongue.

"We don't have a choice right now, okay?" Donna states. "But, between you and Kory, we have plenty of firepower. At least to get us through the front door."

"About that, I've got some bad news." Kory says, gaining everyone's attention. "My powers have vanished."

"Yeah, that tracks." You mutter and it's just one thing after the other here.

"What do you mean?" Donna asks.

"I don't know. I don't know what happened. But they're gone and I haven't been able to get them back." Kory states, frustration in her voice.

"Well, that's fucking great." Donna sighs. "What about you?" Donna asks Rachel.

"Fully loaded but I can't promise that I....won't go a little bit overboard." Rachel rushes her words slightly. "Um, things have been getting a little...dramatic."

Donna looks to you. "How about you?"

"All good and ready to go." You offer her a thumbs-up.

Just then, there's an alert on the iPad. Everyone who can see the iPad starts reading.

"A disturbance at Golden Gate Park. Units responding." Kory reads out loud. "People are injured. Reports of a wild animal."

"Phase two." Rachel states, her voice uneasy. Donna had texted Kory with updates on what they found out from the CADMUS guy and their lack of plan. "It's already begun."

The room falls silent for just a few seconds before everyone starts moving. Jason, Donna, and Dawn grab their suits, you grab a backpack and a change of clothes for Gar, while Kory, and Rachel head downstairs. It only takes you, Jason and the other women a few minutes to get ready and meet at the elevator. Jason hands you one of his helmets and you almost laugh as you take it from him. Of course, you're taking the bike.

"We'll follow you guys." Jason states, getting on the bike, kicking the kickstand up while you get on the back.

"You sure?" Donna asks, the other women already piling into the SUV.

"We'll be fine." You assure her, popping the helmet on, Jason doing the same and sliding down the face shield.

Donna doesn't say anything else before walking off to the SUV. Donna starts driving, moving past Jason and you.

"Hold on." Jason states and you grip his waist tightly before Jason shifts the bike into first and pulls the throttle.

Jason and you follow the SUV closely, keeping the drive silent despite the com system that’s also connected to the SUV. You're both on edge going into this. Gar is your friend. Neither of you want to hurt him. You know you will not do it, no matter what. He's a tiger. All of you together, should be able to stop him without any major problems. But, you’re worried anyway and Jason knows there's a chance you won't have a choice. Bruce trained him and Dick to be prepared if they get brainwashed. Bruce went over what can happened, what being brainwashed can make them do. It can be nearly impossible to stop someone. The last thing Jason wants to do is hurt his friend, again. But, if you're all given choice he knows he'll have to be the one to do it because he wouldn't let you. So, you both stay in your heads until the SUV comes to a sudden stop with an explosion, Jason almost running right into it as the bike swings sideways.

"What the fuck?" Jason yells out.

"Deathstroke. Get down!" They can hear Donna yell through your com systems.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" You groan, ducking into Jason as the sound of constant gunfire echoes around the alley.

Jason looks over at you and for a second, he thinks about leaving. He could get you both out of there completely unscathed. You're hidden behind the SUV and you're not too far into the alleyway. You could take another alley safely, get to Gar. Jason debates it, knowing that with Deathstroke's constant firing, none of you will be able to get close anyway. But, that's backing down and you're supposed to be a team. But, then he come back to you whose grip on him in nearly suffocating and he hears a yelp from in from of you. Jason peaks up to look inside the SUV, seeing Kory's the one who was just shot.

"We have to do something, Jay. We're literally sitting ducks." You yell over the gunfire.

"I know!" Jason yells back and he swears if it weren't for the whole Deathstroke dropping him from a skyscraper problem, he'd have a decision already and you'd both be fine. But, ever since, his head isn't in it and he can't think straight in these situations. The fear of it is almost paralyzing.

"Y/n, Jason, are you two okay?" Dawn yells over the gunfire.

"We're fine." You say back. "Besides the gunfire. What do we do?"

But then, someone jumps from a building and onto the roof the SUV, the gunfire coming to a halt. You and Jason look up to see some random person in a blue and black suit just standing there.

"Who the fuck is this freak now?" Jason sounds absolutely exasperated.

The two of you watch as he flips dramatically and effortlessly off the car.

"You can take the boy out of the circus but you can't take the circus out of the boy." You mutter and you hear Jason chuckle softly, looking back at you.

"Really?"

"He just flipped off the car to Deathstroke, I mean."

Of course, it's Dick. For some reason, that makes perfect sense in the world of insanity you're all currently living in. The two of you flip your face shields up, leaning up to watch through the back of the SUV. Dick starts fighting Deathstroke and holds his own just fine now. Everyone watching is stuck in a state of confusion watching this whole exchange happen. How did Dick even know where to find all of you?

"Who's been hit?" Dick asks.

"Kory." Rachel says.

"You take care of her. I'll take care of him. Jason, Y/n, you two get out of here and get to Gar and Conner. This is my fight." Dick says.

Jason looks back at you and he is not a fan of listening to Dick but, you are sitting ducks back here and at this rate, you'll never make to Gar. So, he puts down his face shield and you follow his lead, gripping his waist tightly before he swings the bike around and peels off in the opposite direction.

When you arrive at the carnival, it's absolute chaos when you get there. Some people are intrigued by a green tiger and others are seeking shelter by leaving or trying to hide out. The two of you spot injured people trying to flee as fast as they can. There’s a sense of unease as you make your way traveling in the direction of the screams. It’s just the two of you, knowing you have to face Gar, your best friend. That’s not something either of you really want to do, ever.

You and Jason spot Gar and Conner from a few yards away. Gar starts attacking Conner, latching onto his arm and Conner is completely unphased. The two of you have a sense of dread. Of course, you knew the report was true. Gar was attacking people but maybe you both had a little bit of hope it wouldn't be this bad. But, for Gar to attack Conner, shit is very not good. And Jason's jaw clenches because he's worried he's too far gone. Gar doesn't eat meat, he doesn't hurt people. And here he is attacking someone who's supposed to be his friend, according to you. And you watch as Conner throws Gar effortlessly twenty yards away and into one of the rides.

"You get Gar." Jason looks at you taking a few steps forward.

One of you is going to need to deal with Gar while the other handles Conner. You can’t solely focus on one of them until the other Titans show up. Jason at least has the experience. And you know about animals.

"Are you insane? He's half Superman." You groan. With Dick showing up and having the other Titans, surely the fight with Deahtstroke can’t take too long and they’ll be here soon.

"Yeah? The fuck you think he's gonna do? Just let Gar go? Not finish him off? You go and I'll distract him."

You shake your head and you hate the idea. You aren't sure how you’re supposed to unbrainwash him. No one exactly prepared you for any of this. And Jason going against Conner sounds terrible. Conner had no issues throwing Gar like a ragdoll and he's at least a tiger and a meta-human. Jason, while he might be Robin, is still just human.

"Look," Jason walks over to you, putting his hands on your shoulders. "Bruce said we need hear traumatic shit to pull us back. That's how he trained us." Jason explains and you want to know who the hell is letting Bruce Wayne train kids? Letting them relive their trauma. "Not sure if it'll fucking work because he should be listening to himself say all that but," Jason shrugs. "Worth a shot." Jason looks over to Conner and then back to you. "If shit gets messy, do something. I trained you, you'll be fine." Jason offers you a smirk that doesn't have the same snarkiness behind it.

"Not me I'm worried about."

"I'm--"

"Robin, yeah, yeah, yeah." You roll your eyes. "Don't do anything fucking stupid, Jay."

Jason gives you a grin, pulling his hands away as he starts walking backwards. "I never do anything stupid."

You nod your head, blinking your eyes slowly at him. He's gonna get his ass handed to him.

You reluctantly let Jason do his thing while you make your way over to Gar. You’re not willing to start telling him stories about the shit he's been through, not without trying something else. If hearing it from himself is supposed to work but not hearing it from you, maybe you telling him good things will work. The opposite.

"Gar?" You kneel down in front of him and you swear your mom is screaming at you from beyond the grave. Tigers are wild animals, not pets and they will eat you. But, this is Gar.

Gar growls at you, lifting his head weakly.

"It's me." You’re cautious. "I know you're in there." You avoid looking directly into his eyes, unsure of how his animal instincts work, especially right now. "Remember when Dick brought me to the tower? You were the first person I talked to and you were so excited because I was watching The Goonies?" You give him a smile. "You brought me pizza. And you, uh, you walked with me around the tower when I thought Jerry was there. Remember when we had a Nerf war against Dick and he got us back? Or that time Jason turned him blue? Or when I beat you at Mario Kart because I messed up your controller? Or when you showed me Resident Evil and you rambled about it for 2 hours.” You let out a soft laugh as you try to think of more things that have happened as quickly as possible.

You aren’t exactly sure what else you’re supposed to tell him, how many things you’re supposed to list. But, he has stopped growling at you.

“You've been there for me through almost every nightmare I've ever had and you were there for me when I completely lost it because of Deathstroke. You're the nicest person I've ever met and you're strong as fuck so I know you're in there somewhere." You scoot closer to him and cautiously and gently, put your hands on either side of his cheeks. The fur is soft under your hands. He growls again but you don't jerk away. "I'm not scared of you. And I know you won’t hurt me." You rest your forehead against his and in tiger form, it feels weird because his head is so much bigger than yours. But, it's soft and warm. "I know you’re in there and I believe in you."

You suck in a breath, closing your eyes. Despite the constant pessimism that seems to be intertwined in your blood, you’re positive this has to be working. He isn’t growling anymore and he’s not trying to eat you. Gar is in there somewhere then, Gar starts to transform back into human form. You can feel his face shift under your hands as you pull away, a gentle and relieved smile pulling at your lips. His eyes flicker at you as a sheepish smile comes to his face. You saved him.

"Hey." You smile widely at him and it's the softest smile you’ve ever given him.

"Thank you." Gar's eyes are tired as he lets out a breath. How did you know to do that?

"You don't have to thank me." You laugh softly. "Here." You pull the backpack off, handing it over. "Grabbed some clothes for you."

"Thank you." Gar lets out an awkward chuckle while you stand up and turn around so he can put the clothes on. He’s surprised you even thought to do that. That you were positive you would be able to get him back and he would need his clothes. Gar will be eternally grateful for you.

"Are you okay?" You ask, still with your back to him. You can't believe it worked and you’re so happy it did. The world is a cruel place, but Gar does not deserve that cruelty.

"Uh..." Gar stutters. Okay? He knows he just hurt several people, he was brainwashed. He is physically in pain. "Yeah."

"Are you lying?" You question, sticking your hands in your hoodie pouch.

"Yeah." Gar clears his throat, walking up to your side. "Just, a little sore." Gar’s voice is low, a little rough and Gar? Not talking about something? That’s new and you do not like that. But, you won’t push because you still have other problems to deal with. That’s a Tower conversation.

You nod your head softly, brows knitting together. “You sure?”

Gar gives you a fake smile. “Yeah, uh, thank you.” Gar furrows his brows, nodding.

"Of course." You nudge him with your arm. "Come on, we should get over there. We can talk at the Tower if you want?"

Gar nods. "Yeah, thank you."

"You'd do the same for me." You interlock your arm with his and the two of you walk, unsteadily towards the other Titans.

"When did Dick get back?" Gar asks, seeing Dick stand near Conner as Rachel uses her powers to encompass them both.

"Love that you're just used to Rachel doing that." You state. "Uh.... twenty minutes ago, apparently. He saved our asses from Deathstroke."

"Deathstroke's back?" Gar groans. What has he missed since being with CADMUS?

"Assume they took care of him since everyone is here now." You shrug. "It's been a few days." You laugh softly. "I'm just glad you're...okay." You smile softly at him before looking back to the Titans, scanning over everyone.

Donna has her rope around Conner while Rachel is using her powers to hold Conner still so he can't move. Rachel has powers surrounding Dick, fully encompassing him. You’re positive you will never get used to that. Dawn, Hank, and Kory are standing behind them, watching. You can feel your heart in your throat until you spot Jason standing a little off to the side of Hank, holding his arm. You let out a breath at the sight of him.

"Jason's back?" Gar questions, seeming to have noticed him at the same time.

"He came back to help." You answer proudly.

"Got the whole team back together." Gar offers a genuine smile.

"Yeah," You feel a warmth in your chest with the idea of everyone sticking around, even if it won’t happen. "All to save you."

Rachel suddenly stops using her powers, releasing Dick and then Conner. Donna releases her rope and Conner seems to be back. He looks around for just a second in horror at the mess. But, then, he looks towards the CADMUS vehicles and starts walking fiercely towards them, you and Gar moving quickly out of his way and towards the others. CADMUS starts firing their guns at Conner which is just a waste since he's literally bulletproof. And none of the Titans are going to stop in to stop him. This is now Conner's fight.

"Nice to have you back, man." Jason gives Gar a nod as he approaches the both of you.

"Thanks for coming back."

"Don't mention it." Jason lets out a scoff, offering you a smile.

"You okay?" You ask, taking a quick glance over him.

"Yeah, all good." Jason nods at you, cocky grin dancing across his lips.

Everyone gathers around as Conner comes back. He stands in front of everyone, getting a better look at the damage caused before he puts the blame on himself. He says it wasn't him but he still did it. Donna is the first one to tell Conner that it's okay and everyone is just glad to have him back.

The people at the carnival then start to come out of hiding, cheering for the Titans. That's a bit surprising but it is kind of nice. Everyone collectively smiles and waves softly. You aren't sure how you feel about it. There's a lot of attention on all of you but it's nice the people appreciate it, rather than hating all of you. You feel a little too exposed but you smile anyway, trying to deal with it because that's what Titans do.

There's a little girl who points out her doll stuck on a ride. Dawn sees the little girl and grabs the doll before walking the doll back to the little girl. But then, everyone hears electricity cackle from above. One of the electric light displays starts to tilt towards Dawn. She rushes as many as she can away, telling everyone to get back before Donna runs and catches the piece of equipment before it falls onto the innocent civilians.

She holds it above her head as it electrocutes her. Every one of you watch in a state of horror, unsure what to do and if any of you can even help. She’s Wondergirl but that doesn’t mean she’s immune to electricity especially that much and for more than just a few seconds. But, there’s nothing any of you can do and after just twenty seconds, Donna goes limp and falls onto the beam.

Dick runs to her and holds her body in his arms. No one says a word, everyone just stands there and watches. How did that kill Wondergirl? Of all things, how? At a carnival? Your heart breaks with the sight and you really liked Donna. You looked up to Donna. Gar hangs his head and you reach down to hold his hand while Jason puts a hand on your shoulder. It's just not fair.

The team goes back to the tower, Hank carrying Donna's body. The tower feels emptier than it ever has before. It's darker than usual, completely silent. It feels like the Reaper is actively looming over the entire Tower, haunting every single one of you. You all lost one of your own tonight, and at a carnival. It wasn't Deathstroke or Dr. Light. Just a piece of electrical equipment that never should have fallen to begin with. And it was Donna. Wondergirl. The reality of it is too heavy for any of you to carry. So, the you all go your separate ways through the tower.

You go off to your room to change and figure you'll check on Gar right after. You’re sad about Donna, despite everything you looked up to her. And it's rough that of all Titans, she's the one killed. And saving people. It hurts through every part of your body and you’re tired of loss. But you focus on Gar because dealing with those feelings isn't something you really want to do. It hurts and when things hurt, you run from them. Avoid them. And Gar just went through something traumatic and now he has to deal with the loss of Donna who he knew a lot better than you did. You focus on your best friend because his feelings about everything just happened are far more important.

Apparently, Jason had the same idea because when you leave your room, Jason was already making his way to Gar's room. Rachel, though, is already leaving Gar's room by the time you join Jason.

"He's not in there." Rachel lets out a sigh.

"Training room?" Jason questions, looking to you.

"Probably." You sigh and the three of you let your bitterness go between each other to find Gar.

The three of you head to the training room where you find Gar sitting alone on one of the benches with his head hung. The three of you pause, your hearts aching for your friend but then move forward. Rachel sits to Gar's left while you sit on his right, Jason standing in front of you. You and Rachel wrap your arms around Gar to hug him while Jason rests his hand on Gar's shoulder. Gar basically collapses into you and Rachel and you both hug him tighter, squeezing him against you to try to offer some type of comfort to the gentle boy who deserved better.

Gar's let out a whimpered cry, Jason giving Gar's shoulder a squeeze and he didn't think he'd see his friend like this. Jason doesn't let people see him as anything less than strong and sturdy, besides you. But, he admires Gar in a way because Gar doesn't really either but he puts on a smile instead of relentless sarcasm. He smiles and then offers kindness and help to others instead of collapsing. There's something admirable in that but he's crying now, breaking and it hurts Jason to see his friend like this.

"It's my fault." Gar lets out a soft whimper.

"It's not your fault." Rachel says quickly.

"None of this is your fault." You assure right after.

"I was the one brainwashed and that got Donna killed." Gar whines while you and Rachel pull away, Jason taking a knee in front of you.

"But, that's not your fault. That's what CADMUS did." Rachel says, her words slow.

"Yeah, that's on CADMUS. Not you." You state.

"CADMUS got her fucking killed, not you, man." Jason assures him.

"But she died because I didn't call Bruce about Conner."

"Look, I said it then and I'm gonna say it again, you did what you thought was best. None of this is on you." You state, getting a look of confusion between Jason and Rachel. Call Bruce? "Bruce probably wouldn't have showed up in time anyway and all this shit would have happened. Not on you."

"Yeah..." Rachel nods in agreement, unsure of what any of that means but is certain none of this could possibly be Gar's fault.

"It's not fair." Gar's voice is so small.

"It's not." Jason shakes his head. "It's fucking bullshit. But, that's not your fault." Jason lets out a sigh. Jason has no idea how to offer comfort to anyone besides you. One of the only people he’s ever been good with is you but, he does know that escapism is Gar’s thing. He likes movies and he likes video games. Jason can’t offer comforting words, but he can offer a movie. "Hey, man, why don't we go...watch one of your movies or something? Like we used to." Jason offers and the offer caches all three of you off guard but you and Rachel say nothing, instead you wait for Gar to talk.

"Not really feeling it, Jason." Gar lets out a huff.

"So?" You quip. "You like movies and you don't deserve to drown yourself in the guilt of everything that's not your fault."

"Exactly. I can make us popcorn and order from that pizza place you like." Rachel offers Gar a gentle smile and you let the anger for Rachel fade just a little. You’re not sure what was up Rachel's ass last night, but she does care about Gar and it's very obvious now.

"Come on, man." Jason groans and gives Gar a grin. "All of us getting along, watching something again?"

Gar lets out a weak laugh, you and Rachel smiling softly at each other. "Okay, okay, yeah." Gar nods with agreement.

Jason smiles proudly, getting to his feet and offering Gar his hand. Gar takes his hand and stands up.

"Uh, can you guys give us a second? We'll meet you out there." Rachel asks, Sam snapping her attention to her.

Jason eyes the two of you suspiciously, not sure if leaving you both alone is the best thing to do but he nods anyway and Gar smiles softly, leaving with Jason.

"I wanted to talk to you." Rachel sucks in a breath.

With everything that's happened tonight, Rachel wants to get everything out in the open and squash everything. It's been bothering her a little bit since last night. Rachel never had many friends. This is the first time, she has more than one and it sucks fighting. Even if she knows her own feelings were valid, she knows yours were, too. So, she'd rather get it over with now rather than wait.

"I gathered." You nod your head.

"I'm sorry for what I said last night."

The apology catches you by surprise but you’re glad this is where this conversation is going. "Yeah...me, too." You swallow your pride and honestly, life is too fucking short. At the end of the day, you're in this together. You're Titans, together. Doesn't matter where you are or if you get along, you're in it together.

"I was...Dick is like an older brother and the dreams make everything feel so real and sometimes it is. Not having dreams about Gar, made me think he was okay. But, with Dick..."

"It felt like he really was in more danger?"

"Yeah, it was never that I was choosing between them or that I don't care about Gar."

"I know." You nod your head quickly. "I was just so mad about everything. I mean, I'm still dealing with Deathstroke shit and honestly, maybe I was a little...” You scrunch your nose. “Hurt that Jason left...with Rose. Then, getting attacked, not feeling good enough again. I took a lot of that out on you because I was still mad at you for Jason."

"I should have talked to him. I never meant for him to spiral like that. I didn't think the other Titans had stuff going on. It was just me and I thought it had to be him." Rachel admits and truly, she never dreamed Jason was in that bad of a headspace. Rachel can explode just like everyone else, but she’s not cruel.

"I just wish you would have listened to me at least. Jason, fine, I get that, but we're supposed to be friends so. I just...I was mad. And...." You pause. "Scared, honestly. Jason wasn't answering me, Gar was kidnapped and hurt. Those...they both mean a lot to me and it was a lot."

"We were both just scared for everyone."

"Yeah," You laugh softly. "I am...sorry I punched you. Especially hearing this side of it. Give you shit for not hearing Jason out only for me not to offer you that kindness. I'm sorry."

"Thank you." Rachel smiles softly. "I will apologize to him, too."

You smile kindly. "Thank you. He'll probably yell at you but I'm serious, just let him yell." You scrunch your nose. "He'll be fine after he yells." You laugh softly.

"I will." Rachel assures you.

"Hey, he's leaving anyway so...it won't be too bad."

Rachel's face falls. "He's leaving?"

You nod sadly. "Mhm, he's only here for Gar and then he's gone. Back to Gotham, back to Bruce."

"Are you okay? I know what I said but..." Rachel offers a sympathetic look.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay." You give her a fake smile and you decide not to tell Rachel.

You’re willing to move on from everything, especially if she apologizes to Jason. You were both just stressed and scared and worried. It was a lot for the both of you. But a part of you is a little worried that if you tell Rachel, she might tell Gar before you can. You know you’re going to stay here for at least a little bit to make sure he's okay and you aren't sure when you'll tell him. You don't want Rachel thinking you’re withholding the information on purpose or Rachel accidentally letting it slip. So, you sit on it and assure Rachel you’re okay.

"We're all good and I know Gotham is his home."

"Okay, if you want to talk.." Rachel smiles softly.

"Thank you. I'm sorry again for all of that shit. Are we okay?"

Rachel leans forward, pulling you in for a hug and you freeze for a second. And then you hug Rachel back.

"Yeah, we're okay." Rachel pulls away and gets up, offering you her hand. "Let's see what movie Gar picked."

The two of you make your way to the living room where you see Gar and Jason seated on the couch, an open space between them. Dick is just walking in with two bowls of popcorn, Kory holding a few drinks. You and Rachel look between each other before giving the older Titans soft smiles and taking your rightful seats on either side of Gar. Conner and Krypto are next to join as Gar scrolls through the movies and lands on one he's seen a handful of times.

"What are we watching, Gar?" Dick asks, passing one of the bowls down the couch to younger Titans.

"Ready Player One." Gar offers a soft smile as clicks the movie, the room not knowing anything about it.

"Spielberg, come on guys." You look around.

"That explains absolutely fucking nothing." Jason chuckles with the shake of his head.

"It's a video game movie, kind of." Gar explains, clicking the movie.

"That makes sense." Kory laughs softly.

Gar turns on the movie with a soft smile and the room falls silent. Dick and Kory saw Jason and Gar walk in, plopping on the couch. When they asked what they were doing and Gar said watching a movie, they offered to join. Dick would join every once in a while anyway and he just lost his best friend tonight. It was more so Kory's idea but Dick went along with it. The four of you are still his responsibility and maybe this isn't such a bad idea.

"What's going on?" Hank asks about half an hour into the movie, Dawn right at his side as they see the living room filled with Titans.

"We're watching a movie." Kory offers him a smile. "A video game movie."

Gar offers Hank a smile, the indicator it was clearly his choice. Hank chuckles softly while Dawn reaches down for his hand and walks the two of them into the living room to join the group of you, picking up two of the only open spots left.

The room falls silent as the movie plays, the new Titans sharing a bowl of popcorn (and maybe tossing a piece to Krypto every now and again). Gar explains every movie reference that shows up to everyone who hasn’t seen it which is almost always Jason and Kory. All of you just let Gar explain it and hear him get excited again, and for that short time during the movie, the grief of losing Donna doesn’t hurt so much. For that two and a half hours, you all live in peace with each other and every one of you needed it.

Two days later, the entire team meets up at a private airport, everyone dressed in black. You’re all sending Donna off in a casket back to Themyscira and her people have come to take her back. To say it was depressing would be an understatement. It was hard for every single one of you. Despite any problems the Titans had, Donna meant a lot to all of you and it's agonizing officially saying goodbye. And that's when Rachel decided to tell everyone she'd be going with. She wants to try and resurrect her. Something in her believes she has the power to do it, or at the very least try. You find it admirable.

Bruce flew in to see Donna off, too. And Rose showed up at the tower the day before, wanting to try out being a Titan for a little bit until she figures out what she really wants to do. Especially with having Jericho's consciousness. That was a little awkward for Jason and you. But it was nice seeing Bruce show up and maybe he's not all too bad. He gave you a pair of gloves when he showed up, explaining Jason and Gar had called him with the idea. Made with zylon fibers. Not only was it nice of those boys, but it was really nice of Bruce to go out of his way to do that.

Everyone got to be Titans that night, too. There was an alert of a problem happening and everyone, one by one, got up from the table to get suited up (or changed) and head out to fight for the first time as a full team. It went off without a hitch, too. You were a large team and it felt so good to be out there, doing exactly what the Titans are supposed to be doing. Saving and protecting people who cannot do it themselves.

Jason and Bruce flew out the following day. Saying goodbye to Jason, this time, didn't hurt nearly as much. You knew you'd be back in Gotham soon enough and he wasn't leaving over horrible circumstances. He wasn't leaving because he felt like he had to anymore, as if it was forced on him. It was a little sad, but you both knew it was not permanent.

Within a few days, you get a call from Jason giving you the all good. Bruce said you’re welcome to stay as long as you like. You said you wanted to give it a little longer, to make sure Gar is okay especially with Rachel leaving. Dawn and Hank also were very clear on them not staying very long. So, you owe it to him to make sure he's okay before you take off, too. He won't be alone this time. He'll have Dick, Kory, Conner, and Krypto but you owe him.

Over the next month, you hang around Gar, making sure he’s okay. At first, it was his turn to suffer from nightmares about being brainwashed and killing the Titans. Those were rough nights but Gar is resilient and he talks. He talks through all of it then escapes into video games until he’s ready to talk again. The whole time you offer him the listening ear, and assure him that everything was CADMUS’s fault. The talking and video games and friendship helps. Gar picks himself up pretty quickly, swinging back into the routine of things and it helps that you’re all actually being Titans now. You’re actually accomplishing missions and working together which is making everyone feel useful for once.

And over that month of being there for Gar, you feel yourself deteriorating. It’s easy to avoid feelings and problems and trauma when you’re focused on someone or something else. But, Gar gets better and you get worse. It’s as if your flight or fight has been kicked into overdrive the whole time but now with things getting, somewhat back to normal, it’s crashing.

The nightmares are consistent and at this point, you swear you’ll never get a full night’s rest ever again. The paranoia is back, more so than it was even with Jerry. The attack on the tower made it feel not safe. Even with the other Titans around, it doesn’t feel safe anymore because that bubble was popped. You weren’t the one kidnapped that time, but it lingers in the depths of your mind anyway and you’re always waiting for something like that to happen again, looking over your shoulder. So, you don’t sleep for more than two to three hours and you train. You’re always found either with Gar or in the training room running yourself to the ground. And you know that with Gar doing okay, it’s time because you can’t live like this anymore and there’s a place for you Gotham.

The problem is that you definitely haven't told anyone. Every day, you swore you would do it. You'd get up the courage to do it. And instead, you'd train and avoid it. You'd dodge questions about Jason. You'd bury yourself in your scrapbook. The idea of telling them, wasn't a good one. You ran from the conversation but, you can't do that anymore and you know you can't. So, you find yourself in the display room, trying to muster up the courage to tell Dick and Gar.

Dick walks in and he's had a suspicion. He's seen that look before. He has worn that look when he decided to leave Gotham and go to Detroit. You’ve been a bit spacey lately, too and at first, he thought it was everything that happened. You’ve been the main person looking after Gar but he watched the security footage back. He knows you were attacked and fought just as hard. You lost Donna, too. But, as the days went by, something seemed off. Dick is a detective and since finally coming to clean about Jericho, his head is far more clear and he's picking up on a lot of things a lot better. You haven't done anything new to your room or asked for anything. You’ve picked up extra chores and then there’s the training. Dick just knows.

"You're leaving, aren't you?" Dick asks, standing beside you, keeping his stare at the displays.

You turn your head, the sad smile growing as you nod. You aren't going to lie. You need to tell him and he figured it out but it hurts to confirm it anyway. "Yeah, I am."

Dick nods, his expression sad as he looks at you "Can I ask where?"

"You've gotten a little better at asking things, Dick Grayson." Your voice is soft but holds your signature sarcasm. You shake your head, sticking your hands in the pouch of your hoodie before sucking in a breath. "Gotham." You look to your shoes, knowing you can end the conversation here but decide to try not to run from this one thing. You owe Dick that much. "It's home, ya know?" You look up at Dick and he nods.

"Yeah," His voice is understanding as he puts his hands in his pockets. "But, it doesn't have to be."

"I know." You answer. "But..." You pause, looking back to the display columns. You love to give him shit because he makes it easy and he’s he oldest. He’s basically everyone’s older brother. But, you owe him the explanation because he has done a good job here, especially after confessing the stuff about Jericho. You never want him to think you leaving is because he failed or something. "Um...a-a lot happened here, this Tower, this city. It’s a lot for me and I don’t know if I can handle dealing with all of that here. Gotham though, it might be a mess, but it’s home. I was happy there.” You let out a scoff, chewing the inside of your cheek. “More shit just keeps happening here and I need to find that part of myself that can be happy despite the bullshit. I don’t think I can find that here. I left some of myself in Gotham and I just want to see if I can find some of that again, get over some of this shit. I don’t know.” You shrug your shoulders. “Gotham is home, probably always will be and I...wanna go home.”

"I understand." Dick's voice is quiet and he's sad to see your leave but he understands. Finding himself was the hardest thing he ever did but it was worth it. He doesn't like the idea of you going to Gotham, not with what Gotham does to people but if it's what you need to do, he can't stand in your way. "Where are you gonna stay?"

You give him a dry chuckle. "With Bruce and Jason." You shake your head again as you roll your eyes. "I understand the irony in that."

"Jason pull some strings?" Dick is a little relieved that you won’t be homeless in Gotham, not he ever thought Jason would let you.

"Mhm." You hum. You don't want to get into it. Dick does not want to hear about that one.

"Have you told Gar?"

You shake your head and the very mention of his name makes you want to run out of the display room and away from this conversation. "No. I will." You say quickly. "You just asked first."

"Tell him soon." Dick says. He has a lot to say but he doesn't want to sway your decision or guilt you about it. He took you in, took Rachel in, and he’s watching you both go off on your own to do your own thing. Maybe he’s a little proud, too.

"I will when we're done." You let out a deep breath. You turn to face him completely this time and you hate to admit, but you'll miss him. "Thank you for letting me be a Titan."

The corner of Dick's lips tugs into a sad smile. "You'll always have a place as a Titan, okay?"

You nod. "So, I can come back when I figure my shit out?" You hope one day you’ll want to. You do like being a Titan, using your powers for good. But for now, it’s not healthy for you.

"Of course." Dick smiles at you. "Go talk to Gar." Dick sucks in a breath and he's let so many people down. He's let you guys down and he won't do that again. "Hey, be careful, okay?"

"Because Jason." You state and the two of them actually worked out some of their shit while Jason was here. Dick actually apologized but you suspect that's what he means anyway because Dick will always think Jason is reckless and impulsive and a bad influence.

Dick shakes his head. "You two have that figured out." Dick lets out a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck and you raise a brow at him. "With Bruce."

You offer a singular, large nod. "I will, I see how you and Jason turned out. You don't have to worry. If...shit hits the fan though...I can call, right?"

"Of course. We'll all be there."

"Thank you. I'm gonna go talk to Gar." You turn to leave. "Hey," You turn back around. "Keep doing this, you're getting a lot better at it."

You head to Gar's room next, deciding to rip the band-aid off. You do feel a little better after talking with Dick. It didn't go terribly wrong which means it should be okay with Gar. You knock on his door quickly, before walking inside. Gar is sat on his couch playing Resident Evil and he looks over his shoulder quickly, offering you a kind smile. The guilt floods back into your blood like a dam's just broken. He looks so happy and content and you’re about to break this to him.

"Hey." You say quietly, taking a seat beside him.

"Hey." He offers you a smile, pausing his game. "What's up?"

"Um..." Your brows furrow as you tug your sleeves over your hands. The action does not go unnoticed and Gar knows something’s up. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Is everything okay?" Gar asks, hesitance in his voice.

"I-I, uh, I'm....leaving." You get the words out but it feels like your vocal cords are short-circuiting.

It's as if Gar can feel the last of his heart breaking. Everyone is leaving and he's gonna be left here. Sure, he has Dick and Conner and Kory and Krypto but...what about everyone else? His best friends?

"Why?" He asks, his voice cracking.

"I....I-I-I I just....I need to figure out who I am now. I'm....not...I'm not who I was before and..." You choke down the lump of guilt clogging on your throat. "I need to go back to Gotham and find me and....just figure out my fucking shit."

"Why can't you do that here?" He asks and he's so sad, you can see it in the way his eyes dodge yours

You shake your head, offering him full transparency. "I fucked up. I couldn't save Jason and me. I have these powers and they were fucking useless. I couldn't talk him out of it, hell, I went along with it. I never would have done that before. But...I felt like I had something to prove to myself. That I'm strong and I'm not as weak as Jerry made me feel but then I was dropped from a fucking skyscraper with my best friend and we almost died. And then........." You keep your eyes on him because if you’re going to do this, you owe him that. "CADMUS attacked and I couldn't save any of us, or myself." You scoff. "Then, Donna." You shake your head. "I just feel useless and not good enough and...scared. I'm so sick feeling that way and running myself right into the ground over it. I never had healthy coping mechanisms but..." You suck in a deep breath. "I don't sleep and I train all the time. I need to leave and get away from the this city, figure out who I am outside of a Titan because I was thrown into this. I chose it, but thrown into it and I need to just get away for a little bit. Gotham is a shitshow, but it's fucking home."

"Gotham?" Of course, it's Gotham. Where else would you go? But, it hurts anyway. That's literally across the country.

"I know." You nods softly. "It's....it is my home, Gar. I was born there and raised there for almost my entire life. My mom is buried there. I need to go back. It's....I always felt like I belonged there"

He nods, not knowing what else to say. He won't convince you to stay, it's not him. He respects you and your decision even though it hurts. Even though he's upset. It hurts. Everyone is leaving again.

"You're not useless." Gar gets out. "And you are good enough. I know you don't believe it but it's true."

You nod. "Yeah, it just doesn't feel like it and I need to not feel like this anymore."

"I understand." Gar offers a solemn nod.

"I'm so sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry." Gar forces a sad smile to his face. "It's what's best for you. If it's going to make you happy, it's the right thing to do."

"Thank you." You swear you have no idea what you did to deserve his friendship.

"Where are you gonna stay?"

You let out a soft laugh. "That's the irony. With fucking Bruce Wayne and Jason, of course."

"You're gonna live with Batman?" Gar's eyes widen and it makes you laugh.

"Mhm, can you believe it?"

"Do...do you think you'll see the Batcave?"

Your nose scrunches as you lets out a laugh. Of course, that's what Gar is interested in. "I hadn't thought about it, Gar."

"It's Batman's Manor." Gar's eyes are wide with excitement.

"If I see the Batcave, I'll let you know." You shake your head. "You could come visit and you're a Titan so like...maybe you'd convince Bruce to show you anyway."

"That'd be so cool." Gar beams.

"I kind of just wanna throw a Baterang."

"You would." Gar chuckles softly. "Jason though." Gar shakes his head and he's also kind of waiting to see when that's gonna happen. He's pretty sure everyone kind of is at this point.

"One of the free perks of living with Bruce Wayne." You state and Gar groans. "What?"

"Nothing." Gar shakes his head. You and Jason will figure it out. "When do you leave?"

You offer him a yikes expression before giving him an awkward smile. "Two days."

"You waited until now to tell me?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna try to work on that. I was scared." You shrug. "It seems easier not to tell you."

"You can always tell me things."

"I know." You let out a soft laugh. "Did...you wanna play some Mario Kart though? We have two days to still play." You’re ready to be done having the conversation. It’s not easy for either of you and you’d rather be enjoying the time you have left rather than talking about it.

Gar lets out a laugh, a toothy smile landing on his lips. "Okay, yeah, grab the controllers." Gar states, saving his game while you grab the controllers from the switch.

It's gonna be weird not having you around. But, Gar understands it's what's best for you. He'll never stand in your way just like he didn't with Rachel or Jason or anyone else that's left. If he's learned anything, it's that the Titans do come back together eventually. Gar has hope you'll be back so he'll enjoy your last two days like he has been.

The next two days go by in a blur and soon enough, it's time for you to leave. You look around your room with a backpack on your shoulders. You give the room a sad smile and you swear you'll be back one day. You do love being a Titan but you need to figure you out now. It's time and you'll be back one day. So, you walk towards the door and close it behind you.

You walk out into the kitchen where Dick, Kory, Gar, Conner, and Krypto are seated around. You offer them all a sad smile. Kory is the first to say goodbye, offering you a hug and telling you not to get into too much trouble. Conner is next, also offering a hug and saying it was nice getting to know you. You make him promise to send you Krypto updates. Gar is next and he wraps you in the tightest hug he's ever given you.

"You'll keep in touch right?" Gar pulls away, eyes sad but filled with hope.

"Of course." You laugh softly. "You're my best friend, always." You flash him a toothy smile

"Good because I'm really gonna miss you."

"I’m gonna miss you, too. I'm just a phone call and flight away." You assure him. "Come visit."

"Will do." Gar offers you a sheepish nod, stepping back so Dick can say goodbye.

Dick stands in front of you and offer you a handshake.

"So fucking professional. You know, you took me in for no reason at all."

"You were injured."

"Yeah, but you could have brought me to a hospital." You quip. "Thank you for everything you've done for me, Dick." This is the most sincere you’ve ever been with Dick. "Thank you for looking out for me and saving my life, more than once. One hundred points for you." A confident smile comes to your lips.

Dick lets out a laugh. "You were really keeping a point system?"

"Well, I was joking but you seemed so surprised, I needed to commit to the bit. So, congrats on your win."

"Thank you." Dick's eyes widen with sarcasm.

You close the distance between you and hug him. It catches Dick off guard but he hugs you back.

"Listen to Kory, don't get into too much trouble."

"Have no worry, Dickolas. I've grown." You say as you pull away.

"You have." Dick nods at you.

"Well, I'll be back and I'll keep in touch." You offer all of them a last smile before walking over to Gar and giving him one final and long hug. You'll miss him the most.

You pet Krypto and give him a kiss before you head to the elevator. Everyone heads to the hallway to watch you leave and the doors shut. This is it, you’re really going home. After over a year, you’re finally going back home and it might be a little bittersweet but you’re so happy. Gotham is a shit show but it will always be home. You miss it.

You exit the building and right outside, there stands Jason with his motorcycle, one helmet on the bike and the other in his hand. He gives you a wide grin. He didn't tell you he was coming. You were given the address for the private landing strip where Bruce would send his private jet to pick you up. You were okay with that actually, just some time to be alone. But now you’re looking at Jason you’re so relieved to see him.

"Miss me?" Jason quips as you get closer.

You scrunch your nose, shrugging your shoulder. "Nope, not even a little bit."

"Alright, fuck you." Jason chuckles, looking to the ground and then back to you. Maybe this has been the longest month of his life.

"I don't think Bruce would appreciate us joining the mile-high club in his jet." You quip, Jason gaining the devious smirk that makes fireworks explode through your heart.

"He doesn't have to know." Jason quips right back.

"No!" You shake your head, a booming laugh escaping your lips. "Shut the fuck up." You close the distance between you, bringing him into a hug and you didn't think he'd actually come just to fly back to Gotham. But, you’re so happy he did. "You didn't have to come. I could have flown alone." You pull away, the biggest smile Jason has ever seen splits your face.

Jason shrugs. "Yeah, but that's not very fun. Thought you'd like some company."

"Thank you, Jay."

"Anytime, babe." Jason hands you a helmet.

"Can't just take an Uber like a normal person?" You quip while the two of you get on the bike. You put the helmet on while Jason gets ready.

"Nope, this is faster." Jason taunts you, looking back at you.

"Okay, Fast and The Furious." You roll your eyes as Jason slides his face shield down.

"Ready to go home?" Jason asks, looking back at you.

"Hell yeah." You slide your own face shield down, wrapping your arms around him before Jason kicks it into first.

The city goes by in a blur as Jason zips between traffic and you have a smile under your helmet. Every piece of you that might have been second-guessing this decision washes away. You’re going home and having Jason be the one that's there, makes the whole experience a little bit better. And you’re so excited to get back to Gotham, see what it will bring you this time around. And Jason is thrilled to be bringing you back home. It'll just be the two of you in Gotham. No Titans, no Deathstroke. Just you. It's you and him.

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A/N: Book 1: Okay hi, so I know I skipped over quite a bit but this was already so long lmao and I didn’t wanna break it up. If y’all want an exert from anything I skipped over, just let me know!! Thank you guys again for reading. It truly means SO much to me 😭

Book 2: First of all, I get to the point EARLY in book 2, I promise!!!!! I literally have that already written lol Chapter 1 of book 2 will be out in 2 weeks!! I’ll try to stay posting on Wednesday/Thursdays!! Book 2 also follows canon pretty closely so look forward to that angst lol But, yeah I’ll be part with chapters in 2 weeks!! Thank you guys!! 😭

Tag list: @fairyofshampoo // @italiana-20 // @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @mayfieldss // @ghostkingblake // @im-done-with-this-im-out // @velvetskies // @lilylovelyxo // @cryinghotmess // @yesimwriting // @vivian-555 // @anthemabby // @baebeepeach

#gar logan #jason todd #gar logan x reader #garfield logan x reader #jason todd x reader #gar logan fanfic #gar logan fanfiction #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #titans #titans fanfic #titans fanfiction #caving in

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myeuphoricmindset · 9 months

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Haunted by you | Eddie Munson

Summary | Eddie Munson's ghost is haunting the house recently occupied by Daisy Morgan. Having been deceased for years, Eddie becomes visible only to her. As she adjusts to sharing her living space with an otherworldly presence, their relationship develops into a compelling yet forbidden romance between the living and the dead. But, how could that ever truly work?

Pairing | Eddie Munson x OC

Warnings/Tags | 18+ only, Strained parent relationships with significant focus on maternal issues, Themes of feeling unwanted and abandoned are central, Cheating -though not involving Eddie Munson or the main character, alcohol and drug use, Profanity, Sexual content, and Mental health themes.

Fic Notes | This fic is set after the events of Stranger Things season 4. Seven years have passed, and everyone has moved forward since the defeat of Vecna and the closure of The Upside Down. This story won't revolve around Vecna or The Upside Down. While there might be occasional appearances by other Stranger Things characters, the narrative centers on normal life, void of supernatural plots except for Eddie's ghostly presence.

I don't have a fixed posting schedule, but I'll aim for weekly updates. I might post more frequently, but I'm keeping the dates flexible for my mental well-being. Rest assured, I won't leave this fic unfinished.

Word count | 4k

Read on ao3

August 1993

Embedded within our very DNA is the innate longing for maternal love and acceptance. When that love is withheld over time, our minds adapt, convincing us that we can do without it. However, a persistent yearning for that inherent love remains, a constant reminder of the void that's meant to be filled.

Even in death, Daisy’s mother couldn't find it within herself to love her daughter. Grace’s final moments weren't filled with apologies or declarations of affection for Daisy; instead, there was only a will assigning property to her.

With a chuckle, Daisy twirls the keys around her finger, amused by Grace's belief that a house could mend the chasm in her heart. It’s a testament to how detached she was from what love between a mother and child should be.

For the past six months, Daisy has been stuck in limbo, her presence tethered to this seemingly senseless house following her mother’s passing. Today, at long last, she clasps the keys in her hand—a significant stride towards ending this dreadful chapter of her life. Whether driven by resentment or anger, Daisy raises her middle finger to the sky, smiling with satisfaction as she bids farewell to Grace.

In the parking lot, a few passersby cast concerned glances her way as Daisy releases a breath. It's not just any breath; it's a sigh that unburdens her from a lifetime of pain. The ache will persist, but it no longer shackles her to Grace; now, her mother can only haunt her dreams. And she will take that as a win.

A huge smile is plastered on her face as she walks to her car and calls her realtor. The line rings twice before she hears his eager voice on the other end.

"Hello, Ms. Morgan."

"Walter, it's all set. You can move forward with putting up the for-sale sign. I'll send over the necessary paperwork soon. ” Daisy says.

"Absolutely, ma'am. Sounds great.”

“Oh, I’ve also turned on the electricity under my name while we work on getting it sold.”

“Wonderful. I'll arrange an open house for next weekend."

This house holds no appeal for her; it seems Grace hoped to tether herself to Daisy through the property. The faster it’s sold then the faster she can move on with her life.

"Thank you, and please, call me Daisy."

"Certainly," he replies apologetically.

She gives him a kind smile, almost as if he could perceive it through the phone, and says goodbye.

Music blares as Daisy speeds out of the lawyer's parking lot. Her sunglasses shield her eyes from the summer sun, her brown hair wiping in the wind, and her engagement ring glimmers brilliantly as her hand tightens on the steering wheel.

Things are finally looking up.

She planned to stop by the bridal store and try on her dress for the last fitting, but she could do that tomorrow. She just wants to relax at home with Nick and watch Pretty Woman. Maybe even recreate the bath scene, singing Prince while drowning in bubbles. That’s a perfect night.

The apartment's lights are on even though her fiancé isn't due back until seven.

"Nick?" Daisy's voice echoes through the apartment as she opens the fridge, her mind set on preparing dinner. A craving for pasta, rigatoni specifically, with grilled chicken, mushrooms, and onions fills her thoughts, her stomach voicing its approval with a rumble. Unfortunately, they are completely out of chicken and pasta. Wonderful, just wonderful.

Luckily, their apartment lies within walking distance of one of Nick's favorite Chinese restaurants. The prospect of takeout lifts Daisy's spirits as she heads to their bedroom to ask Nick if he wants his usual Kung Pao chicken.

The sound of the shower greets her before she enters the room.

"Nic—" Her words halt as her gaze falls upon the disheveled bed.

What in the world? The comforter hangs askew and pillows litter the floor in disarray. It’s an absolute mess and she could have sworn she made the bed this morning like she always does.

Before she can call Nick's name once more, noises emanate from the bathroom. Daisy cautiously pushes the bathroom door open. The sight before her is surreal: Nick and his coworker Mia are in the shower together. His hand rests on her thigh, the same hand that's wiped away Daisy's tears. His lips pressed against her neck, the same lips that proposed to Daisy. Mia's moans fill the air, reminiscent of the sounds Daisy herself has made. Her mouth goes sour at the sight.

Daisy remains rooted in place as if observing the scene from outside her body.

This can’t be happening.

Time slows as Nick becomes aware of her presence, the shower door flinging open, Mia futilely reaching for a towel, and Daisy retreating.

Nick's voice calls after her as she assembles a small bag. She can't answer, gripped by a numbing shock. The room's movements feel surreal, and Daisy navigates it like a phantom, a silent specter swallowed by her own detachment.

Pushing the front door open, the summer air snaps her back to reality as she approaches her car. Nick's voice recedes as she leaves him standing, towel wrapped around his waist and their shared future at his feet, symbolized by a single apartment key.

“Daisy!”

Betrayal is no stranger to Daisy, but it doesn't blunt the pain of misplaced trust. A sense of foolishness washes over her, as Nick held the secrets of her past, her vulnerabilities, her fears. Tonight he reinforced her sense of being an unwanted burden.

It’s too much to bear. She has to get the hell out of here.

Hawkins lies eighty miles from Indianapolis. Unintentionally, Daisy found herself heading north on Interstate 65, steering aimlessly while her thoughts were lost on autopilot. At some point during the drive, Daisy stopped for gas and picked up McDonald’s despite lacking any appetite. She mechanically consumed it, then pulled over on the highway only to throw it all up. All of this occurred while she was in a haze, unable to recall the process. She moved through these actions like a mere shell of herself. Reaching a new city without a memory of the journey ignited a surge of panic within her.

Daisy wasn’t just in Hawkins, Indiana; she found herself parked outside her mother’s house, now her very own. Mixed emotions surged within her as her hands tightened around the steering wheel, her focus unwavering on the imposing iron gate adorned with the “Morgan” insignia.

She will never admit that she'd memorized the route to her mother's house. A house she never intended to visit. It was always decided after the accident that she would never contact Grace again, but it gave Daisy a sense of control knowing where her mother was and not doing a damn thing about it.

Until now.

She would have driven to Sloan's place, relying on her childhood best friend's kindness to give her a place to stay while she figured out what to do next. Sloan had always been there, a constant pillar of support. But, tonight was not the night to ask for support. Sloan happened to be attending a significant work event with her girlfriend, Robin at her side. Months ahead of time, she had planned a stay at a luxurious hotel for this very evening. Even on a subconscious level, Daisy understood that intruding upon their special night wasn’t an option, even when her own life was unraveling at the seams.

Left with no other options, Daisy finds herself in an unexpected predicament—having to accept help from her mother, the last thing she ever wanted. Daisy understands her mother's presumed satisfaction in the afterlife, and it's a painful realization. Even though the house was hers, the idea of depending on Grace’s help for her own well-being bothered her, making her upset. She was meant to sell the home and ever step foot on the property.

It felt like her mother had won, even though the game ended when Grace died. But Daisy reminded herself that the stay isn't indefinite; it's just a temporary solution until she figures out her next step.

Her hand trembles as she inputs 0527 on the keypad. Time seems to freeze for a moment, and Daisy holds her breath. The tension snaps as the gate loudly creaks open, breaking the silence.

The driveway stretches, winding its way around towering trees and clusters of flowering bushes. Daisy remembers the land from before the house was built—a trailer park with families that got wiped out by a natural disaster in ‘86. Grace saw the chance, bought the land, and replaced the trailers with a mansion. The families from the Forest Hills were paid to leave, a deal they took because their homes were falling apart. They didn't have many options and didn't want to end up homeless. Most of them did not have insurance to take care of their homes and Grace paid more than they could ever offer.

One person with too much money took over a place that used to be home to many families. Instead of helping them rebuild, Grace paid them to go away. Daisy wonders about those families and the kids who used to play here; their laughter once echoed between the trees and now it’s silent. Hopefully, they managed to reconstruct their lives using the resources she provided.

As the sun set, its light bathed the house, creating a gentle radiance along its edges. The home stands on a grand scale, boasting windows that envelop both the lower and upper levels. Despite only being built seven years ago, Grace held a deep appreciation for history and it shows in the architecture. The Victorian-style home was crafted in a manner that exudes the aura of centuries past.

The focal point, the entryway, is crowned with two grand wooden front doors, standing tall and imposing, their well-worn elegance inviting all who visit. Ironically, Daisy can only assume that visitors to the house were few and far between during Grace's time.

Effortlessly, the key slipped into the lock, and upon entering, Daisy’s bag dropped onto the wooden floors, the sound reverberating through the expansive, vacant house.

"Hello?" Daisy's voice echoed through the space, although she knew well that no one would answer.

Still, she waited for a reply that never came—only the structural creaks and the soft hum of air circulating through the vents persisted. It was eerie, but at least she was not on the streets and the house itself was undeniably beautiful and fully furnished. Daisy had to admit that Grace possessed a talent for home decor. An artist at heart, Grace's creative vision shone through, not just in her painted canvases but also in the ambiance of her house.

Daisy admired the exquisite crown moldings that decorate the ceilings, intricate panels adorn the walls, and ornate chandeliers cast a warm, gentle glow. It was inviting even if she didn’t feel welcome.

Stained glass windows, with their kaleidoscope of hues, scatter fragments of sunset light. The grand staircase, an artful masterpiece that anchors the foyer, leads to the upper floor, its handcrafted banisters a tangible testament to the commitment to the minutiae.

All of it was stunning. It’s hard to believe that Grace was living in this while Daisy endured nights on a couch, lacking a proper bedroom, in a family that seemed indifferent to her presence.

She debated unpacking her bag but was overwhelmed by the day's events. She wanted to take the edge off, to forget. She figured Grace might have left some wine in the kitchen. Grace was rarely without alcohol nearby.

The kitchen was pristine. The house staff, paid ahead of time, had maintained the house and yard even after her death. They hoped to impress a new owner. Daisy wondered what they'd think when they saw the for sale sign at the end of the weekend. She couldn't worry about that now; it might push her over the edge with all that’s on her mind.

Daisy tossed half-empty wine bottles into the trash and found a corked bottle on the rack. She wiped the dust off a Pinot Noir named Goldeneye.

Never heard of it, but it’ll do.

“Aha,” Daisy muttered with satisfaction as the cork popped.

Holding the bottle, she walked to the living room. Taking a hefty sip, she hoped the wine would numb her. The smoky black cherry flavor lingered on her tongue. The house was quiet. Daisy kicked off her shoes, drank some more, and collapsed onto the couch.

"Fuck," Daisy muttered, looking around at her situation. Emotions surged, and she used the wine to drown them.

“Fuck!” She shouts into the emptiness, fighting tears.

Amidst denial and disbelief, laughter bubbled up, an unexpected reaction to her turmoil. Could this really be happening? Maybe it was a terrible nightmare, and she'd wake up soon. She gulped down more wine, trying to steady herself. She pinched her arm, in a desperate attempt to wake up, but the pain was real. She choked back a sob with alcohol.

No, Daisy told herself, forcing herself off the couch. Sulking wasn't the solution. What did she need now? Besides wine, music. Daisy searches the living room and it doesn’t take long for her eyes to spot the record player sitting pretty on the oak table behind the couch. The vinyls are displayed perfectly on a shelf. Daisy’s fingers brush the stack until she comes across Tell Mama by Etta James.

With steady hands, Daisy placed the needle down in the record, and the resulting music gently cradled her frayed nerves. She’s thankful she paid to have the electricity turned on or she would have been sitting in the dark.

For the first time in hours, a smile graced her lips as she raised the half-empty bottle, playfully spinning around the room.

“Sing it, Etta,”

The house came alive with echoes of the music. It felt different, there was a shift in the air.

But a sudden whiff of smoke caught her attention, and she slowed down. She frowned, puzzled.

Was that the smell of cigarettes?

It couldn't be. Chalking it up to the wine's effect, Daisy walked to the window and opened it, welcoming a draft of fresh air. She was beginning to feel hot and that was a sign that she’s had too much too quickly.

Examining the bottle in her hand, she was met with a shocking sight that widened her eyes—within its brown-tinted glass, a man leaned against the wall, arms crossed, an amused smirk playing on his lips.

The sight paralyzed her momentarily, her scream of terror overpowering the music before the bottle crashed to the floor.

Dizziness engulfs the room, and she clings to the couch for stability. Her gaze shifts to the spilled wine staining the wooden floor, and then swiftly looks up to find the man.

But, he's gone.

"Who's there?!" Daisy's voice trembles as she retreats toward the kitchen, tripping over her own feet in her haste.

The music persists, accompanied by the lingering scent of smoke. Daisy snatches the phone off the hook, her fingers fumbling with the buttons as she struggles to dial 911.

"Get out now! I'm calling the police!" Daisy's voice wavers as she shouts, her unease palpable.

As she waits for the line to ring, Daisy stretches the phone cord to its limit as she reaches for a kitchen knife.

There is no ringing. The line is dead.

Daisy's heart sinks, and her face slumps as she presses the numbers again in frustration.

No. She forgot to set up a new landline under her name.

“No!” Daisy's exclamation filled the room.

A voice emerged from behind Daisy, “You can see me?”

Daisy spun around, stumbling backward. The same man stood over her with a confused look—a figure both captivating and haunting.

He was taller than Daisy, lean and lanky in build. His dark, tousled curly hair framed his face, the locks falling gracefully over his forehead and partially obscuring his eyes. Those deep brown eyes gazed down at Daisy with curiosity.

“Get back!” Her knife trembled as it rose toward him. “Get out of my house!”

His lips curled up as he leaned down, his face mere inches from the knife's tip. His gaze shifted from the knife to Daisy's widened eyes.

“You’re in my house, sweetheart.”

Without hesitation, Daisy thrust the knife into his neck.

A gasp escapes her lips as she realizes what she had just done.

But there is no blood, no cry of pain from him. The knife left no mark.

The man straightened, appearing unaffected and unperturbed. His fingers brush over his neck, and he examined them. A laugh erupted from him as he confirmed his lack of harm. The sound of his laughter startles Daisy. She struggles to comprehend how the knife had passed through him as if he were air.

“Impressive, but you have to try harder than that,” He remarked.

Daisy recoiled, her veins flooded with an icy rush, as he moved through her and vanished.

Through her... he had walked through her as if he were the wind rustling the leaves in the trees.

What the actual fuck is going on?

Gasping for air, Daisy struggles to catch her breath, her attempt to regain composure falling short. Her chest feels constricted, as though it might collapse under the weight of her racing heart, while her head continues to spin with disorientation.

This is it. She’s going to die.

In the same house as Grace? Hell no. The thought of that alone has Daisy scrambling to her feet.

Her eyes dart around, and he is nowhere to be found. A surge of adrenaline has her running to the front door. There is a phone in her car. She just needs to make it there and call 911. I’ve got this, she thought.

Daisy didn’t turn around once she made it out the door. She’s seen too many scary movies and they never survive when they slow down to check their back.

She closes the car door with a strong thud, locking it forcefully. Her phone is in the glove compartment, rarely used. It’s a new addition, and she isn't entirely used to having a phone on the go.

With shaky fingers, she dials 911. The operator's voice on the other end is a lifeline, reassuring and guiding her. The calm instructions provided a semblance of order amidst the panic that threatened to engulf her.

Dispatch is en route to her location and that helped Daisy breathe a little easier. Following the operator's directions, Daisy remained in the safety of her car.

She settled into the driver's seat, eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of the intruder who had shattered her sense of security while she waited for the police to arrive. The absence of the man did little to quell her unease; if anything, the tension remained palpable, coiled within her like a tightly wound spring.

Time seemed to stretch as she waited, every passing second laden with apprehension.

The flashing lights of the approaching police vehicles pierced the darkness, casting an eerie glow on the scene. Relief mingled with lingering fear as Daisy watched the law enforcement officers spring into action. Even though the immediate threat might have dissipated, the aftershocks of the intrusion still reverberated through her, leaving her on edge.

As the officers began their investigation, Daisy recounted the harrowing encounter, her voice shaky but resolute. She cooperated with their questioning, hoping that their presence would help dispel the lingering shadows that had taken hold of her mind.

However, the man who had broken into her home remained elusive. Even though the immediate danger had passed, Daisy couldn't shake off the feeling that she was being watched, which kept her on edge.

As the investigation reached its conclusion, Daisy's version of events started to unravel. No signs of forced entry, no trace of an intruder—her story seemed to be falling apart.

Doubt crept in, exacerbated by the officers' questioning of her sobriety due to the spilled wine and the discarded bottles. Frustration surged within her. They didn’t believe her. Of course they didn’t.

Internally, Daisy wrestled with the wild scenarios her mind had conjured in the heat of panic, like the memory of stabbing the man who simply walked away unharmed and how he disappeared in thin air. She kept these details to herself, focusing on the central truth: she had indeed seen a man, an intruder.

“Perhaps the alcohol took its toll and played tricks on your perception. We've all been there before, Ma’am. It's understandable,” the officer offered, his tone laced with a well-intentioned reassurance.

“No, that's not what happened!” Daisy's frustration surged forth. Her voice held a mixture of anger and determination. “I had maybe half a bottle. I’m not intoxicated. I saw a man, and he was in my house.”

A glance exchanged between the officers told Daisy all that she needed to know, and now her patience is wearing thin.

This day had tested her resilience. Her emotions teetered on the edge of tears, a precipice she was desperate to avoid.

Hold it together, Daisy. Tears will only add to their assumption that you’re insane.

“We're here to help, Ms. Morgan. Let us accompany you inside,” The officer suggested kindly. “It's getting late and about to rain.”

Walking back inside, Daisy's thoughts were a whirlwind of disbelief and vulnerability. As she stepped in, the house no longer felt safe. The officers' presence was comforting, yet it couldn't hide the truth: Her space had been invaded, not just by a stranger but also by doubts that made her question her reality.

“We've checked your home thoroughly. There is no one here. I can promise you that. Now, If you come across anything else suspicious or unusual then give me a call. Here is my card.”

The officer hands over the card, offering well wishes for the evening, then heads towards their car and drives away.

Daisy lingers in the doorway as rain begins to fall. She wonders if she’s losing her sanity—could she have imagined everything? Doubt sneaks into her thoughts like an unwelcome intruder, picking at her beliefs. Yet, the uncomfortable sensation in her gut persists, a reminder that things aren’t right. Her emotions converge, forming a bubble of anger in her chest. She’s tired of looking like a fool.

With a forceful slam, the door shuts behind Daisy as she enters the living room, her steps heavy and furious. She scans the room, finding it empty and shrouded in silence. The music has stopped, leaving only the wine stains as the only reminder. She scowls, her eyes fixed on the red-stained wood.

“Where are you?” Daisy’s voice reverberates through the room in a shout.

No response.

“Show yourself! I know you’re here.”

Silence. Total silence. Daisy’s face glistens with dampness, and she wipes her cheeks with the back of her hand. The tears, once contained, now break free like a dam bursting open.

Daisy pulls out her cell phone, her vision blurred by tears and sobs catching in her throat. With shaky fingers, she dials ten digits, and amidst the ringing, she eases down the wall, finding herself on the floor. Even though she doesn’t expect an answer, hearing Sloan’s voicemail gives her a small sense of comfort.

“Yeah, you reached Sloan. Leave a message and maybe I’ll get back to you.”

A loud beep sounds, and Daisy takes a moment to collect herself. “Sloan,” her voice quivers, “I need you. Please call me back when you can.”

Daisy draws her knees close to her chest, enveloping them with her arms as she lowers her head. This, she acknowledges, is her lowest point. Here it is, the culmination of losing her fiancé and her sanity, all within a single night.

Daisy’s attention is grabbed by a heavy sigh, causing her to look up. Everything in her freezes. There he sits, on the counter’s edge opposite her, absently twisting the ring on his finger.

“You know, there’s something about a girl crying,” he murmurs, drawing a breath before slapping a hand over his chest, “It just tears me up.”

Though his words carry a genuine tone, his eyes hold an elusive expression she can’t quite place. Daisy remains frozen, her gaze locked on him.

Their eyes meet, and he speaks softly, “You’re killing me, Daisy. And I’m already dead.”

Chapter two coming soon

Masterlist

Taglist:

@eddiemunson4life420 @boxofsmittens @sweet-villain @all-time-otaku @enam3l @steveoswhore

#eddie munson x original character #Eddie Munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #Eddie Munson fanfiction series #Eddie Munson ghost #eddie munson x female oc #eddie munson x female original character

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darklydeliciousdesires · 5 months

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London Will Burn - Chapter Three.

A big thank you to those reading and engaging with this :) I'm aiming for twice weekly updates, so if you need to catch up, I'd do it quick so you don't get left behind!

Previous chapters - One Two

Tag list - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 2,987

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI.

Bath fresh, her skin softened from her various, and not to mention luxurious Penhaligon’s products, from the bubble bath to the rich moisturiser she liberally coated her skin with, Rin was feeling nothing short of sublime.

She pulled on her favourite oversized cashmere sweater and socks along with her silk sleep shorts, hopping down the stairs and making herself a cappuccino in favourite large mug, the one her mother insisted lived at the back of the cupboard. Its sheer size clashed with her delicate, dainty china.

No mum around meant she was free to enjoy her big cup, as well as the greasy KFC she’d treated herself to earlier that evening. Fast food was looked upon with envy by Diane, even though she loved it, complaining she gained four pounds just looking at a portion of fries.

Standing at the huge island in the equally massive kitchen, Rin read from a copy of her mother’s Vogue magazine while enjoying her coffee, the only sound around coming from the huge grandfather clock out in the corridor ticking away. It was so peaceful that she almost jumped out of her skin when the telephone began to trill.

“Miss Cavanagh,” Frank, their head of security spoke, after she’d lifted the slim, cordless Bang and Olufsen phone to her ear. “Sorry to disturb you, but there’s a Mr Wallace here, says he’s come to see you?”

Her heart all but jumped clean out of her throat. “Yes, let him up.”

“Will do, miss. Good evening to you.” Placing the phone down, she hurtled from the kitchen, down the corridor, skidding to a halt before running up the grand staircase two steps at a time. She had approximately five minutes before he’d reach her, the length of the driveway alone taking almost that long to ascend from the front gate.

Thankfully, her eyelash extensions meant she needed nothing in the way of her eyes looking prettier, taking a little of her glossy facial oil with the glittered tint to it and smothering on a few drops. A twist of her favourite peachy cream blush sorted her cheeks, a slick of rose-tinted Vaseline finishing her lips with a pretty sheen. A spritz of perfume and a brush run over her hair, and she was ready to receive her surprise visitor.

She knew he’d be told by Frank to drive around to the rear of the property, where a small courtyard that had once been a stable block lay. It was the easiest way to get to the private part of the house, rather than heading to the front door and having a whole lot of home to wander through before reaching it.

Seeing the headlights of the black Mercedes illuminate the kitchen, she walked out and down to the side door, opening it up just as he was locking his car.

“I feel I have been lured here under false pretences,” he began, walking across the gravel that crunched beneath his feet. “I distinctly remember you telling me you were enjoying pottering around in only your pants.”

“Well, since you decided you were visiting without telling me, you didn’t give me a chance to take my sweater and socks off, did you?”

He reached the door, looking down at her with a widening, cocky grin. “No, but I’ll take them off for you right now, if you’d like?”

She smirked, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger, her other hand reaching to stroke his short, neat beard. “You certainly didn’t forget me in a hurry then, did you?”

His cock definitely hadn’t. “It would appear not, little vixen.” He leaned to her, mouth pressing to hers, his hands reaching beneath her sweater to grasp her bum. Clutching her thighs, he lifted her neatly, her legs wrapping around him as he entered the vast homestead, elbowing the door shut and reaching to turn the large key in the lock. “Where am I taking you to?”

“Lounge,” she gasped, lips plumped from their kisses, sighing breathily as he began to kiss her neck. “I would say bedroom, but there’s too many stairs. I want your cock in my mouth as soon as possible. Keep walking and I’ll tell you where to turn.”

Sean felt as if he was walking forever as he strode along the corridor, his boots heavy upon the oak floorboards beneath, his cock hardening for just having Rin pressed against him once more. It firmed exponentially when she gathered her sweater and yanked it over her head, his mouth immediately finding her nipples with a hungry moan.

“Mmm, missed my perfect little tits, didn’t you?”

He rumbled a chuckle, releasing the suck upon her nipple with a little slurp. “Couldn’t get them off my fucking mind, darling.”

They were one of her best assets, she knew this well. “Right turn!” He moved as instructed, closing the door behind them by pinning her against it, their kisses a blaze of syrupy sin. Carrying her to the sofa, he seated himself, hands moving to squeeze gently at her breasts, his groan vibrating her lips when smouldering kisses met his throat.

His leather jacket was shrugged off, t shirt following, Rin sliding to the rug below as she ran her hands up his hard thighs, grasping his belt. Her eyes burned like hazel flames, licking her lip in anticipation as she stripped him naked, a rock-hard erection springing free of his clothes she could scarcely wait to wrap her lips around.

Pressing her tongue against the very base of his shaft, she ran a long, slow lick upwards, feeling it twitch as he watched her intently, hissing a groan when her tongue ended right upon the tip, flicking firmly, her hand curling around him in soft grasp. Watching her, he witnessed the sight of his cock vanish into her mouth, head thudding back against the sofa.

Her mouth worked him slowly, wet lips gliding over his thick shaft, the addition of a whirling tongue every time she reached the head again causing his thigh muscles to tremble as the heat built steadily. Little pin pricks of pleasure soon intensified, flaring in his blood as his fingers tangled in the soft blonde of her hair, his chest beginning to rise and fall more rapidly.

And he’d thought her hands were competent. Fuck.

He was near delirium with how fastidiously she sucked upon him, mouth dropped agape as he lifted his head again to watch her, raising a curious eyebrow in wonder as what she was doing with her free hand. “Where’s your left hand, hmm?”

“Guess.” Removing her fingers from where she’d been stroking the silk of her arousal over her clit, she pushed them into his mouth, Sean sucking them with the same hunger she devoured his cock with.

“Dirty girl,” he chuckled, “if you need my cock that badly then by all means, feel free to come and get on it.”

“I need to run upstairs and get a condom first.”

He shook his head. “Inside pocket of my jacket.”

Reaching for the cast aside leather, she located them, tearing open the packet. “Look at that, he comes prepared.” She had it slid onto him in seconds, moving to straddle his thighs. “He’s going to come very hard, too.”

Of that he was in little doubt, a shuddered breath fluttering over his lips as she took him into her heat, her mouth meeting his in a slow, dirty kiss. To feel him there stretching her out once more was heaven dripped for Rin, getting off not only on the arousal of the man who was, if she was honest, the best sex of her life (not difficult when he was only her sixth, granted) but because he’d just had to have her again, a mere five and a half hours after the first time.

Rolling her hips against him, she moaned against his tongue, his groans all salt and smoke, hands clasped at her back, mouth slipping to her neck to bite with gentle sharpness. Good sex, it was easy to find really. Smouldering, sensationally erotic sex, well that all depended on the person he was having it with. Again, he felt the pull of connection to her, trying in feeble retaliation to remain emotionally aloof and simply enjoy.

As blue burned into hazel in an unbreakable stare, though, the alchemy of her proved a little too potent to fight. So, he lost himself to it, hands gliding through her hair, pulling her into magmatic kisses as he moved in perfect motion with her, a hand sliding to smack her arse in hard repetition as he bounced her on his cock.

Fire and frost licked her veins as she felt him rutting her deep, Rin thriving on the thick spearing into her wetness, the lewd sound of him cutting through that hot slick filling the room. Without warning, he moved to throw her down onto her back, hands clasping her wrists as he pinned her down on the sofa, arrowing into her until she was shrieking.

His cock stroked pure ebullience against her sensitive walls, fucking her frantically, sexually decimating her insides, giving himself to her relentlessly with keenly delivered thrusts. Actually, keen was not a word that could be used to describe the utter pounding Rin was receiving. She tried to fight against his hold, but he kept her pinned, shaking his head as he stared down at her.

“No. If I want you held down, you’ll be held down. No ifs or buts.”

She licked her lip, his dominance making heat blister beneath her skin. “Mmm, I have no problem with that.”

What he gave was all-out sexual brutality, the sofa creaking beneath them, the clutch of his powerful hands moving to grip her thighs in an effort to hold her still, anchoring her to him, forcing her to take the brunt of it entirely. And that brunt, nothing could feel better. Nothing ever had better than Sean, fucking her with all the power of a turbo charged jackhammer. Nothing.

The intensity of his stormy blue eyes were ten times more hypnotic when he was fucking her, his body beginning to bead with perspiration as he railed her into the sofa, his thumb moving to stroke at her hardened clit as the punch of his cock drew even louder, lewder noises from within her soaking walls. The pleasure crackled through her, the swell skittering down to her bones as she wailed helplessly, at the mercy of him entirely.

“Look at you, darling. You look so fucking beautiful, split around my cock.” he panted, grasping her legs and hauling them up to rest against his chest, turning his head to lay kisses and little bites at her ankle, near out of his mind with carnal fury.

He then slowed, each plunge into her fluttering centre given in all-in, all-out thrusts, teasing her aching core, chuckling at her frustrated little mewls as he panted hard. “Sean, please! Fucking give it to me!” she demanded, nails raking his arms.

“I am, little vixen. Just not the way you want it.” he winked, laughing further at her vexation, the circles at her clit rubbed so slowly, lightly and tightly that she almost forgot to breathe, his cock popping out, pausing, arrowing back to her summit as he groaned, her slick muscles contracting on him tightly.

He leaned forward, her knees touching to her chest, bearing his weight down through his pelvis right into the very plush of her, kissing her throat before gently clutching her jaw, turning her head to look at him. “Alright, Catherine. I’ll give it to you.”

And god, how he did, sending her to the edges of heaven, the way he daggered into her without even a hint of control. Long, hard, barbarous thrusts delighted her entire body, her screams filling the room as lava began to bubble and pool at the base of her spine, the release set to erupt, his thumb circling at her bud faster.

His teeth gritted, whispering a string of cusses as his undoing possessed him, like a demon vying for release. Her entire body tensed rigidly as with fury, longing and fire, she came undone spectacularly beneath him, seeing stars, breathless and sweaty, and oh so very satisfied.

“Is... do... does...” she panted incoherently, Sean collapsed against her chest, fighting for air. “Does sex like that exist for others, or is it just us? Because wow. Fucking... bloody... wow.”

He looked up at her, winking with a slight smirk. “Just us, I think.”

Lying there still inside her, feeling the little flutters of her cunt around him, Sean knew he had to leave. That was what he should have done.

Pushing him up, Rin scrambled out from under him, his cock exiting her with a slippery pop. Her legs felt shaky from the thorough fucking she’d received, but not so much that she couldn’t pick up her clothes and turn to give him a smouldering look. “I’m going to my bedroom. I wouldn’t be against the idea of you joining me.”

Five minutes later, and he was lying on his back upon a large, white four poster bed, her legs idly draped over his hips as she lay in an L shape with him.

“How many fits did your mother pitch when she saw this for the first time?” he asked, his hand tracing the outline of the large, black and grey gothic crucifix tattoo upon her ankle.

“Forty-seven.” He chuckled softly at her exaggeration, Rin continuing. “The woman has no problem with me following in my father’s footsteps, already so far removed from any other girl of my age, but yeah, a tattoo is what tips her over the fucking edge.”

“Inky needles, the true blight upon the Mulford name.”

She laughed, enjoying the feel of his hands idly exploring her leg. “Oh yes. Because the long line of aristocratic scoundrels and their various misdeeds who came before her were perfectly acceptable in their scandalous behaviour!”

Anyone who so much as even took the vaguest of interest in history of the Mulford family knew that they were peppered with scandal throughout the ages. The 16th Lord Mulford, for example, had boasted a penchant for what eventually became not so secret orgies, attended by everyone from socialites to members of the royal family. The very room Rin had just enjoyed being thoroughly ruined in had apparently been the chosen drawing room where the festivities hosted by her great (fourteen times removed) uncle had begun.

“Seems to run in the family, then, the penchant to be flattened against antique furniture and pounded,” Sean commented when she told him.

She snorted a laugh, moving to sit astride him. “I think it skipped a generation with my mum. Her horror when she found out I was having sex with my first boyfriend. It was fucking hilarious.”

“I’ve never understood it,” he mused, reaching to run his fingers up and down her thighs, “when people become precious about sex. It’s a basic human need, and as long as you weren’t twelve or anything when you started then I fail to see her gripe.”

“I wasn’t, I was sixteen. The most amusing part of it was though, that she literally dragged me into my father’s office, like she was on some kind of crusading witch hunt, and he just shrugged. Said he liked Kel and as long as we were taking precautions, she needed to mind her own fucking business.” She shook her head, rolling her eyes as her fingers circled his nipples. “Has no issue with me pointing a gun and pulling a fucking trigger at someone, but shagging? Oh no.”

“Yeah, we’ll come back to the second part of that statement,” he began, a look of mild disbelief creasing his features. “Kel, as in Kelland Foster?”

“That’s him. What of it?”

“Oh, Catherine Elaine.”

“Don’t use my fucking middle name!” she cried, pinching at the nipples she’d been stroking.

“Catherine fucking Elaine,” he carried on, laughing at her anguish. She truly detested it. “That man is an absolute prick, and you let him fuck you? Good bloody god.” He knew Kel since they moved in the same criminal circles. He’d never liked him, but put up with him for the sake of the fact that Lenny Foster, his father, was a close associate of the Wallace’s.

Her defence was reasonable, she thought. “He was pretty, but yes. As I learned a bit of a prick. Pretty goes a long way with a girl, though. We can ignore a lot for pretty.”

“And what do you ignore to have comfortably allowed me between your legs?”

It was an interesting question; one she had not expected to receive. “Nothing, because you’re just like me.”

He frowned. “How? Truly, we barely know one another.”

“We know one another enough to know we’re cut from the same cloth. Born and conditioned into a life of blood and violence with little in the way of choice. Yes, while we got to make choices regarding our education, you were destined to follow in the footsteps of the famed and feared Finn Wallace just as much as I am with my own father. We were both given everything, except the abundance of choice.”

Her words penetrated him on a level few reached, her statement profound.

She got it. She understood. Such was a rare finding, and he didn’t quite know how to process that information, so quite simply, he didn’t.

“Speaking of choice, I must ask you something pertinent,” he began, pulling her down to his level, hands snaking up her back. “What would you like to ride next, hmm? My cock, or my face?”

Rin was clever enough to know an avoidance tactic when she saw one, but still, with a grin and a shift, as she straddled his head, her choice made.

#sean wallace fanfiction #gangs of london fanfiction #sean wallace smut #sean wallace x ofc #gangs of london #sean wallace #sean wallace fanfic #sean wallace fic #gangs of london fanfic #gangs of london fic

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johnslittlespoon · 28 days

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bruh i'm 3k+ words into ch3 of yad(iym) and i'm not even done with 3/6 scenes... i might have to split this one into two and then at least it's not so long in between updates but ugh six chapters would've been so satisfying LOL.

wait i just realized ch1 was 4k words and ch2 was 5k... i can't follow a pattern of each one getting longer or i'll end up taking like a month to write each one oh no. and ch4 and 5 have like twice as many scenes as i'm trying to cram into ch3 oh my god i've set myself up for failure I'M GONNA HAVE TO MAKE IT LIKE 8–10 CHAPTERS.

i'm cooked but i have not cooked i fear. how the fuck do y'all chaptered–fic–ers do this shit regularly i stress about pacing so bad i'm just a guy i'm just meant to frolic thru the land of filthy oneshots

anyway that's my like weekly dog coded fic progress update lmfaooo if i cut this chapter in half i'll probably have it up by this weekend, if not... hopefully by next weekend 💀

#dog coded bucky fic #genuinely tho i already have so much admiration for ppl who write chaptered fics and let alone with a consistent schedule #and even more so after remembering how much work it is. but i do love drafting and i don't have much reason to do it with oneshots #so it's fun to get to do that again but apparently even my 5k word draft doc wasn't enough to prepare me for my rambling dialogue scenes #johnslittlespoon yaps

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intrepidacious · 11 months

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“I’m stuck in a time loop.” Several things happen on Bucky’s face in such rapid succession that you can’t quite make them out. In the end, he settles on his eyebrows tilting upwards in confusion. “Sorry, could you say that again?”

i'll keep this short and to the point, folks. time after time is returning this summer.

so in preparation for that (and to give myself a little more prep time as well as an actual deadline) i decided i'm going to do an official reread with you all, starting this friday 💚

each week, i'll reblog one chapter and tell you about my personal favourite parts and maybe share some behind the scenes stuff or cut scenes. i'll also answer any questions you want to send in focusing on each of the chapters that are already published.

this little event is meant to introduce new readers to the fic in more manageable chunks (bc i know the length can be intimidating) as well as remind everyone else where we left off before we continue on with the story. that means my interactions will remain spoiler-free on a chapter-by-chapter basis unless explicitly indicated otherwise!!

my (updated) schedule

07/07 – one: turn back the clock | reread commentary

14/07 – two: twice upon a time | reread commentary

04/08 – three: every day's a holiday | reread commentary

25/08ish – four: groundhog day

01/09 – five: carousel

08/09 – six: butterfly effect

tbd – frequently asked questions about time travel & eternal sunshine of the spotless mind

of course, you don't have to stick to this schedule and are free to read ahead if you prefer bingereading!! i just want to chat to y'all about this story because it's my favourite thing i've ever written and i would like to share that excitement 💚

hopefully, come september, i'll be able to continue posting chapters on a weekly or biweekly basis, with a bonus chapter or reread add-ons in between. i'm hyped for continuing this story with you all. thank you for your patience with me and the overwhelmingly encouraging comments i've gotten on this story so far. happy time loop day x

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes series #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #time after time

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visceravalentines · 2 years

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Medium Distance

A Gentleman and a Scoundrel, Chapter 6

Dilf Bo Sinclair x AFAB!Reader

6.4k. Smut & drama. Some angst (I know I know, you'll be okay, he just cares about you so much baby girl). Bo's shitty attitude makes an appearance and he snaps at Reader. Oral (Fem!receiving), PnV sex. So soft and tender near the end omg. Bittersweet ending (this is NOT the final update!).

The time has come for you to go back to college. Bo does his best to be supportive. Unfortunately, his best in this case is not very good.

For you, a return to campus for the start of a new semester was bittersweet. It meant new classes, new routines, the combined relief and anxiety of a return to independence. It would be exciting for a week if you were lucky, and then the mundanity of homework and midterms would set back in for another four months.

For your parents, it was merely the change of the seasons. With you out of the nest, they had become snowbirds, spending most of the fall and winter months on a beach or a boat. In fact, they had left for Cancun last week. They no longer felt the need for tearful goodbyes, knew you were capable of packing yourself up, moving yourself in. Adults all around.

As far as Bo was concerned, it may as well have been your last day on earth. He was so anxious you would’ve thought he was the one moving 200 miles away. For the last few days he had hardly let you out of his sight, staying over every night, sleeping pressed tightly against you in your childhood bed. Truth be told, it melted your heart, the way he followed you around like a puppy as you packed up your things.

“I think that’s everything,” you said as you locked the front door of your parents’ house.

“Y’didn’t forget anything at my place, did ya?”

“No, I’m leaving a bunch of stuff there, remember?” He hmmed in response, hands on his hips. “Even if I forget something, it’s okay. I’ll be up here in two weeks and I can get it then.”

“Well what if you need it?”

You slipped your arms around his waist. “Then I guess you’ll just have to bring it down to me right away.”

That almost got a smile out of him, but only almost. He appraised the mountain of your belongings packed securely in the bed of his truck. “Y’sure that’s everything? Thought you had more shit.”

You smiled up at him. “This is not my first rodeo. It’s like, my seventh. I promise, we’re good to go.”

He sighed. “If you say so, darlin’. Just lemme check the hitch real quick and then we can go.”

Rather than letting you drive your car down, he insisted on towing the damn thing behind his truck. He had already checked the trailer hitch at least once if not twice. If it gave him some sense of control over the situation, you supposed you could humor him.

You meandered over to the driver’s side and leaned against the door. When he was absolutely sure the hitch was secure, he came around the side of the truck, frowned when he saw you.

“What d’you think you’re doin’, baby girl?”

“Figured I’d drive down since you’re going to have to drive back,” you said.

He snorted. “Oh, y’got jokes now?” You grinned and he swatted at you. “Get your ass in the passenger’s seat.”

“Yes, sir.”

Bo shot you a glare and you scurried away around the front of the truck.

His hand was on your leg before you’d even left the driveway. You put your hand on top of his, fingertips caressing the scars on his wrist. He turned a faint smile in your direction; said nothing. He’d been uncharacteristically quiet all morning.

For the last couple weeks, he had pestered you with questions, made you recount your weekly schedule to him five times, insisted you provide him with the names and numbers of your roommate and a few other friends. You talked about visiting each other on the weekends, phone calls in the evenings, meeting somewhere in the middle. To be sure, it would be an adjustment, but he seemed to be handling the transition as well as could be expected.

However, the silence in the truck this morning was stifling, taking up all the extra space in the cab. You glanced at him a few times. He did not look back at you, eyes fixed firmly on the road. Once he pulled onto the freeway, he turned on the radio at a volume that was not conducive to conversation. You chewed your lip and decided let him be for a while. It was a long drive; he couldn’t ice you out forever.

“We could stop for lunch at that cute place by the river,” you said when you couldn’t bear the tension any longer. “Maybe walk around a little bit?”

“Sounds good, baby girl."

You frowned. He sounded apathetic. "I thought maybe I could take you around campus after we unload. Show you a couple of my favorite places," you tried.

"Whatever you want."

He seemed detached. “You okay?” you asked.

“’M just fine, darlin’.” He squeezed your leg.

Evidently this was not the case. “Do you…want to talk about it?”

“No I do not, thank you.” The sharpness of his tone surprised you. He was never short with you. You watched as he took his hand off your leg to turn the radio up.

You frowned. “Bo.”

He turned the radio up two more clicks.

You sat up straight, turned it off. “Bo.”

“Don’t touch my radio while I’m drivin’, girl,” he snapped. He turned it back on.

You stared at him, taken aback. “Are you upset with me?” you asked loudly over the wail of Bon Jovi. He hated Bon Jovi; he wasn’t even listening to the damn radio.

“’M not upset with you.”

“Well then will you please just talk to me?”

He didn’t respond.

You smashed the power button on the radio with more force than intended. “I don’t want to fight with you.”

“We’re not fightin’.”

You weren’t sure how to respond. It sure felt like you were fighting. The two of you had never fought before. He didn’t turn the radio back on, but he didn’t say anything either. You folded your hands in your lap and looked out the window.

You knew today was going to be hard, but you’d expected a sort of mutual sadness, not this abrupt hostility. You couldn’t fathom why he was lashing out at you; as far as you knew, he approved of you going back to school.

A defensive sort of anger flared in your chest. Whether he approved or not, it’s what you were doing. You weren’t about to abandon three years’ worth of hard work just because he didn’t want to have to drive a few hours to see you.

If he wanted to pass the next ninety minutes in animosity, that was fine with you. You reached over and turned the radio back on, scrolled the volume up even higher for emphasis, crossed your arms over your chest. He shot you a glance; you ignored him.

Streetlights flew by. Bo was taking his aggravation out on the gas pedal. The damn radio was so loud your ears were ringing. The fight went out of you fast. This was not how you wanted to spend this drive, this last day together for the next two weeks, this time with him that was now a precious commodity.

You looked over at him. His expression was blank. It hurt to know he was hurting. There wasn’t much you could do to fix it, but you badly wanted to try.

“Hey,” you said too softly to be heard above the music. Your fingers found the dial and turned the radio way down. “Hey, Bo.”

“Yes, darlin’,” he said, eyes on the road.

“Would you look at me please?”

He obliged, and his mask of stoicism slipped into a guilty expression at the forlorn look on your face.

All the sudden your throat was thick, eyes stinging. “Can you pull over?”

He did, and you stared twin holes in the roof of the cab, refusing to cry. You felt his gaze on you as you rubbed at your tear ducts, looked down, looked outside, anywhere but at him. He was patient, waiting for you to speak first; it was so unlike him it made you feel worse.

You cleared your throat and when you spoke, your voice was almost steady. “Look, I’m sorry that I have to go.” Despite your best efforts, the tears welled up and you made a frustrated sound as the dashboard blurred. “I-I’m sorry that—”

“No no no.” You heard the sound of his seatbelt coming undone, his seat sliding backwards, and then he unfastened your seatbelt and took you by the arm and by the knee and pulled you toward him. “C’mere, baby girl, don’t cry.”

You offered no resistance, straddling his lap and burying your face in his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, pressed kiss after kiss to your head. “Y’got nothin’ to apologize for, sweetness, don’t do that.”

“But I am sorry, I—”

“Stop it, darlin’. I’m the one should be apologizin’ for gettin’ snippy with you.” His hold on you tightened. “’M better than that.”

You nestled into him, hands tucked beneath your chin. His heart pounded against your ear. With every deep breath your nose filled with the smell of his aftershave, the indelible musk of cigarette smoke ingrained in the fabric of his clothes beneath the scent of laundry detergent. You’d joked about bringing your laundry with you on the weekends so it would smell like his house. At least, it had been a joke. Now it seemed like a desperate and necessary way to keep him with you.

“Hey. Baby girl.” Bo nudged you, curled his finger beneath your chin to direct your gaze to him. “I’m sorry I took a tone with you. If I do that again you flip me the bird and tell me I’m makin’ an ass of myself.”

You almost smiled, sniffled instead. “I just…I thought you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” he said. You furrowed your brow and he grimaced. “Alright, I been better.”

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” You put your hand over his heart. “We don’t have to talk about it, I just want to know.” He started to shake his head and you stopped him with delicate fingertips on his jaw. “Bo. Please. It matters to me.”

He looked pained for a moment before he masked it with a smile not quite free of sadness. His pretty eyes flitted over the features of your face one at a time and all at once. “I want you to go. I’m excited for you, I am. ‘S just….” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“Just what?” you urged.

Bo sighed, staring intently out the window. “I feel like I’m losin’ you and I just don’t know how to be alright with that.” He furrowed his brow, met your gaze with an expression bordering on desperation. “I’m tryin’, baby, I promise I am. I’ve just never been good at lettin’ go of things.”

You frowned, took hold of his face. “Bo, we talked about this.”

“I know we did.”

“You don’t have to let me go. You’re not losing me. You couldn’t.”

There it was again, that careworn look in his eyes. The one that made you feel like he knew something you didn’t. That heavy thing he held onto and wouldn’t let you see.

“Is there something you need to tell me?” you prompted gently, uncertain, not wanting to push him too far.

He said nothing, just looked at you for a long moment—too long. You searched his face, trying to transmute a growing anxiety into patience.

Finally he leaned in to kiss your forehead and said, “No, darlin’. Just wonderin’ how a grumpy ol’ fuck like me ended up with this angel right here.”

You offered a furtive smile. “You give really good head,” you said. That caught him off guard and a laugh burst from his chest. He had a smooth, booming genuine laugh and in spite of it all, it made you feel better.

“It’s going to be fine, baby,” you said, fiddling with his shirt. The fabric was soft in your fingers. “It’s just medium-distance for just a few months. We can do that.”

“We can do that,” he repeated like he was trying to convince himself.

“We’re gonna have an obscene amount of phone sex,” you reminded him. “Just a gross amount.”

“And you’re gonna show me how to use Snatchchat or whatever.”

“Fuck you’re old.”

Bo cracked a smile. “Nah I’m just playin’, I know what it’s called. C’mere.”

He pulled you close and kissed you, achingly sweet and hungry, his arms locked around you like he couldn’t bear to have you anywhere but pressed against him. “If it was up to me I’d lock you up,” he murmured. “Never let you go.”

“I know you would.”

“I mean it, baby.” He slipped his tongue in your mouth, trying to memorize your taste, squeezing the air from your lungs. “Alright, darlin',” he said breathlessly when he released your lips at last. “I think I can drive like this but you gotta stay real still.”

“I don’t know if I can do that,” you said, grinding slowly against his fly. He groaned and shut his eyes. “I really don’t think I can.”

“I s’pose if we crash and die you ain’t leavin’ for college.” He leaned his head back against the seat. “Think your daddy will let ‘em bury me next to you?”

“I doubt it.”

“Damn. Ain’t worth it then.” You felt his dick flex in his jeans and he smacked your ass. “You best knock it off before I haul you outta here and bend you over the hood.”

You scoffed. “Is that supposed to be a threat?”

He chuckled, something like wonder in the way he looked at you. “Dammit, baby girl, I—” The words seemed to crowd one another in his throat and he just shook his head. “Get back in your seat, g'on.”

You kissed him one more time before disentangling yourself and struggling back into your seat. “You know, if you need me to, I could give you—”

He held up a hand to stop you. “Do not make me an offer I can’t refuse. I need you to sit there and look pretty, that’s all. You’re doin’ a great job.”

Beaming at him, you buckled up and switched the radio back on at a civil volume as he signaled back into traffic. Bon Jovi was playing again. Bo scowled.

“Anythin’ else, please.”

Hours later, after a stop for lunch and a walk by the river and kisses not stolen but eagerly shared on the bridge, you finally reached your destination. Bo pulled up to the row of brownstone buildings on the edge of campus where your apartment was tucked away.

"This it?" he said, scrutinizing the building with a critical eye.

"This is it. We should be fine to park here for a minute. I want you to come up and see the place first."

"'S this a sketchy neighborhood?" Bo asked apprehensively.

You rolled your eyes. "No, it's fine. Come on."

“Are you sure? Looks sketchy,” he said, locking the truck.

“I’ve lived here for two years, I promise it’s fine. The building’s just old.”

He shook his head ruefully. “We had all summer. I shoulda given you a gun and taught you how to use it.”

“Jesus, Bo, I don’t need a gun.”

“Everyone needs a gun.”

“Your redneck is showing.” He swatted your ass and you squeaked. “Do you have a gun? Besides the one above the fireplace?”

He smiled grimly. “Never you mind.”

You tugged on his hand. “What kind of answer is that?”

“The only one you’re gettin’, sweetness. I don't want you comin' home late in the dark," he persisted as you led him up the steps.

"I am absolutely going to be coming home late in the dark sometimes."

"Darlin'," he said sharply.

"Bo, I can take care of myself, I promise. Look, the front door is always locked and we keep the apartment locked too." You flipped through your keyring for the right key.

Bo grabbed the handle and rattled the door. "I could break into this in thirty seconds."

"Well then it's a good thing you don't have to do that because I have a key, you animal."

You unlocked the door and flung it open. Bo caught and held it, gestured for you to go in first. You led him up one flight of stairs to your second-floor apartment halfway down the hall.

"Your roommate's name is Sammy?" Bo confirmed.

"Yeah."

"And we like her fine."

You giggled. "Yes, we like her. We've been roommates for a year. She's great."

He grunted in response. You unlocked the door but didn't open it, turned around to face him instead. "This guard dog thing you have going on is really sweet, okay? It's very sexy. But I need you to trust me a little bit. You don't have to interrogate Sammy or anyone else down here. I'm a pretty good judge of character."

Bo snorted and shook his head. "Sure, darlin'."

"Just please be nice? I know you can be nice."

“I don’t think you know shit.”

You took half a step towards him, pressing your body against his front. “Daddy,” you whined, and he snapped to attention. “If you be nice right now, maybe I’ll be nice to you later,” you said softly.

"I can be so nice," he said. He almost managed to suppress the patronizing tone.

“Prove it.” You turned away from him and opened the door. “Hey Sammy!” you said brightly as you barged in with Bo on your heels. “How was your summer?”

Sammy, a dark-haired girl sprawled on the couch in a cloud of vape smoke that reeked of cannabis, swore and scrambled to sit up straight and shove the vape under a pillow. “Dude, you didn’t tell me you were bringing your dad!”

Bo rolled his eyes and scowled as you cackled. “I didn’t, this is my boyfriend. Bo, meet Sammy.”

“Pleasure,” he said dryly.

“Oo, a foreigner,” Sammy said.

“He’s from Louisiana.”

“Where’d you guys meet, Mardi Gras?”

“We met back home over the summer. He’s, uh…a friend of my dad’s,” you said at the same time Bo grumbled, “Mardi Gras is in February.”

“That’s kinky as fuck,” Sammy said, digging the vape back out from under the pillow. “Bet your mom is thrilled.”

“My parents do not know and it’s going to stay that way so some discretion would be much appreciated,” you said.

“Gotchu.” The vape hissed. “I’m all about discretion.”

You grinned. “I’m going to show him my room and then we’re going to bring my stuff up, so don’t mind us.”

“I won’t.” Sammy flopped back on the couch, flashed a peace sign. “Nice to meet you, Mardi Gras.”

“Charmed, Samantha,” he said as he followed you down the hall. "She seems fun,” Bo muttered. “She always high off her ass?”

“Since when do you have a problem with recreational drug use?" you shot back.

"I don't, I just–"

"Maybe Sammy will give you a hit off her vape and that'll chill you out." You pushed open the door to your bedroom. “Here we are.”

The air was stale from months of stagnation, but it was comforting to be back in your own space. You watched Bo meander around the room, looking at the photos of you and your friends stuck on the wall, the knickknacks on your desk, your closet overstuffed with clothes despite the fact you had packed a full summer’s wardrobe back home with you.

“’S cute,” he said. “Nice and cozy. Feels like you.”

You wrenched the ancient window open to air the space out. “I really like it here. It’s too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter, but it’s cheap and has good parking.”

Bo came over beside you. “This window lock?”

“Yes, it locks,” you sighed.

He put his hand on the small of your back. “Just makin’ sure my baby girl’s gonna be safe without me, that’s all.”

You leaned against the windowsill and slid your arms around his waist. His brow was lined with concern and you couldn’t help but be a little touched. “That’s very sweet of you.”

“Ain’t nothin’ sweet about it,” he said. “I’d have to beat the shit outta anyone who laid a finger on you and I’m real attached to my clean criminal record.”

“You're a selfish bastard.”

“I know it, darlin’.” He kissed your lips but didn’t linger, tilting your chin delicately to the side so he could work his way down your neck.

“Once we bring some things in I can put clean sheets on the bed,” you said.

“Don’t need sheets,” Bo murmured. “Hell, don’t need a bed.”

You laughed and ran your fingers through his hair. “We do need to unload though so you can move the truck before it gets towed.”

He froze. “Before it what?”

“It’s only thirty-minute parking out front.”

“Well what the fuck are we waitin’ for?” He was out of your room so fast he all but left a cloud of dust in his wake.

The two of you made short work of carting your belongings inside and backing your car off the trailer. Unpacking could wait. Instead, you took Bo around campus and the surrounding neighborhood, pointing out your classroom buildings, the library, the patch of trees on the hill. If he couldn’t be there, if he couldn’t be a part of your everyday, you at least wanted to show him what it was like.

The tour ended at your favorite dive restaurant for dinner. By the time you walked out, the sun had begun its descent behind the trees.

Bo’s hand slipped out of yours and he paced a few steps away. He gazed down the road at the streetlights as they lit up all at once. “Well darlin’…think I better get goin’.”

You frowned, slowed to a stop, confused and caught off guard. “I thought you were staying over.”

“Yeah…thinkin’ maybe I should get home though.” He was not looking at you, looking instead at the part of your world unfamiliar to him, mouth set in a line, hands shoved in his pockets.

I feel like I’m losin’ you and I just don’t know how to be alright with that. Who was losing who?

Your heart sank. “You said you’d stay.”

He turned to you, met your sad eyes, and the furrow of his brow cracked his aloof expression. A quiet, resigned sigh slipped from his nose and he conjured up the ghost of a smile. “Dunno, y’think that bed of yours is big enough for two?” His hands found your hips and pulled you toward him. “I could sleep on the couch I guess.”

You shook your head. “Don’t be an ass. You’re staying the weekend. You said you would.”

“Did I?” He cocked an eyebrow.

“Yes!” You thumped your hand on his chest.

Bo chuckled, wrapped you in his arms. “I know I did. Just wanted to be sure you ain’t changed your mind. I know you got a lot to get done before classes start.”

“No.” You squeezed him tightly. “Stay with me.”

“You sure?”

“Bo!”

“Alright, alright, y’got me.”

Tucked under his arm, you wandered home, clinging to him for fear he might disappear into the twilight like cigarette smoke if given half the chance.

Back at your apartment, he helped you make your bed and put away a few essentials and afterwards you curled up together in front of some early 2000s horror movie. Bo changed into sweatpants; you also changed into a pair of Bo's sweatpants. He spooned you on the couch, your back flush to his chest and his fingers moving lightly down the skin of your arms, over the curve of your thighs. His lips found the nape of your neck again and again.

"Can I help you?" you laughed as his teeth grazed your skin.

"Mm-mm," he said. "You just keep watchin' the movie."

"What about you?"

"Don't worry 'bout me, I'm entertainin' myself."

“We don’t have to watch this if you don’t want to,” you said.

“I’m perfectly happy, darlin’.” His hand snuck beneath your shirt, cupped your breast, his thumb teasing your nipple.

You arched your back and pressed your ass against his groin. "You sure, Daddy? You don't wanna go fool around a little?" You craned your neck to steal a lopsided kiss.

"I just want you to relax, baby girl. You been so busy." His fingers trailed back and forth over the exposed flesh of your stomach. After a minute, he shot you a sidelong glance. "Y'mind if I have a snack?"

"We just ate," you laughed as he sat up and scooted down the couch.

"I know, I just got a particular craving is all."

"Go for it, I don't know what we have in the pantry though."

"That's alright, me neither," Bo said as he tucked his fingers into the waistband of your sweatpants and slid them and your panties all the way down your thighs in one fluid motion.

You jerked in surprise. "Baby!"

He shushed you, looping his arms under your legs and nestling in so close you felt the heat of his words on your skin. "Watch the movie, darlin'."

Grinning, you repositioned yourself against the pillow behind your head. "What if Sammy comes back?"

"Door's locked. I set the deadbolt."

You laughed. "You son of a bitch."

His eyes gleamed over the crest of your hips. "You know I get what I want, baby girl."

Biting your lip, you turned your attention back to the TV. A vocal sigh slipped from your throat at the first solicitous pass of his tongue. He lapped at your sex, teasing the breach of your slit.

You snuck a glance at him and smiled. His eyes were closed, his thumbs stroking your hips, his brow furrowed slightly as he devoured you with absolute devotion. He looked up at you through his lashes and slowly raised one eyebrow.

“You’re awfully distracting,” you said.

“Speak for yourself,” he murmured. He swirled his tongue around your clit and sucked pointedly and you threw your head back on the pillow with a groan.

He was relentless. You tangled your fingers in the hair at the base of his skull, squeezed it in your fist. Your hips lurched involuntarily against his face time and again and it only made him shift his weight to pin your legs down so he could redouble his efforts.

“Please,” you gasped, legs trembling. “It's so much…it’s too much.”

Bo trailed kisses down the inside of your thigh, letting you catch your breath. “C’mon, baby girl, Daddy ain’t done yet.” He licked a matching path up your other thigh. You whined and squirmed and he lifted his head, fixed his smoldering stare on you. "You want me to stop?"

"Uh-uh." You pulled his head back to you and he chuckled.

“You’re doin’ so well, sweetness. Just a little more.”

He caressed you with his tongue, slick and silky, slipped two fingers into you and adored you from the inside out. You were floating, bliss incarnate, twisting your hand in his hair and grinding on his tongue until at last something primal and powerful snapped deep in your core and you arched your back and melted on his lips, moaning, hot and sticky and sweet.

"That's my girl." He nipped the flesh of your thigh, made you jerk and whimper. "Goddamn, I love makin' a mess of you."

"Come here," you sighed, reaching for him. He sat up and took your hand and kissed first your fingers, then your wrist, leaning in to let you hang your arms around his neck and meet his lips. The combined taste of his mouth and your lingering pleasure was delectable, smooth and sharp.

You gazed up at him, the lines worn into his brow and the corners of his eyes, those lips, the scar on his chin. Something was tangled in your heartstrings, tugging at your diaphragm, words sitting precarious in your mouth.

"Bo…."

The knob of the front door rattled furiously and someone pounded at the door only seconds later. "What the hell?" Sammy yelled, muffled. "Are you guys fucking or something?"

Bo was off you and out of the room in mere seconds. Hastily you hiked your pants back up and tripped over yourself on the way to the door. The deadbolt was crusted in fifty years' worth of paint and you had to really throw your weight behind it to get it open.

"Hey Sammy, so sorry," you panted. "Bo's just, like…super paranoid."

"I would be too if I was whipping my dick out in the common living area," Sammy said without a hint of malice.

You bit back a laugh and felt your face heat up. "That is…not what was happening."

"Get it girl, why do you think I walked to Taco Bell instead of DoorDashing like a sensible person? I figured you had designs on that old man. I'm glad you locked the door. I don't need to know you like that." She took a hit off her vape. "Good for you, babe. 'Bout time you found yourself a man worth a damn. Bradley sucked ass."

"Bradley did suck ass, you're right."

"Baby girl, you get abducted?" Bo called from your room.

"No," you called back.

Sammy winked at you. "You better get back to it, I bet he gets real bossy when he's horny."

"How'd you know?" You rolled your eyes and retreated down the hall.

"I'll be out here minding my own business with headphones on," she grinned.

You ducked into your room and shut the door behind you. The string of lights hanging around the perimeter of the ceiling shone gentle and golden and Bo was tucked in your bed, reclining bare chested on your pillows. Goddamn gorgeous. You wanted to wrap yourself around him, map every inch of him with your mouth and hands.

"I missed you," he said with a crooked smile. He beckoned you with two fingers. “C'mere."

You shed your clothes as you crossed the room and crawled into bed. Straddling him, you nudged his half-hard cock with your pubic bone, pressing him between your skin and the palm of your hand.

"Pretty thing," he said. "Wanna take a ride?"

"Yes sir." His shaft was velvety soft between your lips, slippery with a mixture of your arousal, the gentle friction against your clit verging on overstimulation.

Bo made a contented sound. "Think I'd like to sit back and watch you fuck me, darlin', how d'you feel about that?"

With a hitch of your hips you took half his length, eliciting a startled, satisfied grunt from his pretty mouth. Another thrust and you groaned in tandem as he found his place inside you.

"Feels good," you murmured. "I feel good about that."

Ecstasy rolled through you with every rock of your pelvis. Bo pinned his lip between his teeth, glazed-over gaze fixed on the joining of your bodies. You splayed your hands on his stomach and reveled in each clench of his abdomen as you worked him in and out.

Arching your spine, flexing around him, you felt a flash of satisfaction when he threw his head back and inhaled sharply, face flushed. His fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs when you sighed his name.

“Darlin’,” he mumbled, “angel, beautiful, fuck.” With gentle hands on your waist he stabilized you so he could rut up into you, meeting each sway of your body with a rise of his own. “I adore you, baby girl, you know that?”

Your nails pressed into his skin. You met his eyes, pupils blown and glassy. “I know that.”

“Nah, you got no idea,” he said breathlessly, with a small shake of his head.

Your hands found his wrists, fingers wrapping loosely around them. “Then tell me.”

Bo licked his lips desperately. “Best thing I ever had. Y’hear me? Best thing that—shit—that ever happened to me.” The snap of his hips grew frenetic, his grip on you tightening. “I’d do anything for you, anything you want.”

His scars were smooth and uneven under the delicate caress of your thumbs. Your head lolled to the side and you graced him with a sultry smile. “Come for me?”

He moaned. “Hell, baby girl—”

You moved like the tide, steady, relentless. “C’mon, Bo, come for me.”

A grunt escaped his throat in pieces as he bucked beneath you, wringing your name out on his lips, clawing down your sides. His climax resolved into a low whine and he stared up at you with that heartrending astonishment you always hoped for, like he couldn’t believe a sweet thing like you could make him feel like that.

Goosebumps flared across his skin as you ran your hands up his arms to meet in the middle of his chest, bending over him to press a kiss between his eyes. The words came quickly, unbidden, all your thinking over and done with. “I love you, you know?”

You felt the air catch in his lungs. “I…I know.” He was holding onto you like a lifeline, something bewildered and exultant blooming in his expression. “…I love you too, darlin’.”

You smiled. The phrase was foreign to him; you could hear it in the way his tongue touched each syllable like he was afraid he might break it. “Say it again,” you whispered.

His hand came to your cheek and he grazed your lips. “I love you,” he said carefully, like maybe you might tell him he was doing it wrong.

You kissed the pad of his thumb. “One more time?”

Those blue eyes seized you, held you, intense and ardent, and quietly he said, “I’m in love with you, baby girl. ‘Course I am. You’re everything to me.”

He pulled your mouth to his and kissed you with an unexpected tenderness. It made you shake inside. It wiped everything from your mind but thoughts of him, thoughts of his rare laughter and that damn smirk, the thought that you wanted to commit to memory the way he tasted so you could never, ever forget it.

He rolled onto his side, taking you with him, strong arms wrapped tightly around you. You could feel a peculiar tension in his body even in the wake of his orgasm and you tried to soothe him with caresses on his chest and collarbones. He pressed his lips to your brow and held you to him for a long time, breathing slowly, like he thought maybe if he let you go you might slip away.

You had to wonder, curled up with his heart pounding under your hands, if he had ever given it to anyone else. You were almost certain the answer was no, and this gave you a secret sort of satisfaction. You knew he had never been married, and he’d been a bachelor as long as he’d known your father.

Now that you thought about it, was it odd that he’d never settled down? That a charming, charismatic man with a James Dean jawline and a steady job hadn’t ever found himself a long-term partner?

And were you certain that was even the case? He didn’t talk about his past, about his younger years, about Louisiana. There was trauma there, a time when the scars on his wrists were fresh, a time when his brothers had been his whole world. Maybe there had been a time when he hadn’t been alone.

It occurred to you suddenly that you knew almost nothing about his life before he moved to your town. That was odd, wasn’t it? Or was he just protecting himself, the part of himself that was painful and private? And if so, did you have any right to go poking at it?

Bo hmmed softly. “Why so quiet, darlin’? Thinkin’ some big thoughts?”

You tilted your head back and met his gaze. The way he looked at you—with hunger, with reverence—no one had ever looked at you the way he did. Like he wanted to dismantle you piece by piece and then lovingly put you back together just so he could become intimately familiar with every last part of you. Most people lived their whole lives without someone looking at them like that.

What did it matter that he was a mystery? He was yours, and you were his.

You smiled and kissed his chin. “Just thinking about you.”

A faint smirk settled on his lips. “Well now, ain’tcha always?”

Your fingers wandered through his hair, brushing it back off his brow. “Yes,” you answered truthfully.

The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Good.”

He left Sunday evening, hours after the sun had set and the roads were dark.

You knew he needed to get home, had a long drive ahead of him, but every attempt you made at a goodbye was casually but firmly shut down. Bo would not be leaving until he decided to leave.

You sensed he was struggling; you could see it in fits and starts of alternating detachment and clinginess. But he shrugged you off if you tried to pursue it, and so you stopped pressing him. Everything would be fine once he adjusted to the change, once he realized you weren’t going to forget about him just because you didn’t see him every day.

Finally, he let you walk him down to his truck. He took your face in his hands and kissed you deeply, possessive, almost aggressive. It left you flushed and gasping. "I'll see you in a couple weeks, baby girl," he said, drawing his thumb across your cheekbone.

“Just a couple weeks. Text me when you get home?" you asked pleadingly.

"Sure thing, but you best be sleepin'."

"I will."

"Good girl."

You embraced him tightly. "I'll miss you."

"I know,” he said. “Miss you already."

You tugged him close for one last kiss. "I love you."

His eyes moved over your face like he was searching for something. You wished you knew what it was he was looking for. You believed—you hoped—when he was ready, he would tell you.

"Love you too."

With one final peck on your forehead, he pulled away and climbed into the truck, and then he was gone.

Taglist at the bottom bc this is a monster post already: @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better, @slutforguts, @brandnewhuman, @fluffy-little-demon, @cypressnmarigolds, @slasherlouvre , @g0thl3zz, @frankiethedarkangel, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @likeacidrainn, @thatoneidiotlol, @jdbxws, @confused-gender, @xhorror-nerdx, @uwunuzzleowo, @spicysimpura, @gremlinfuck, @the-pinstriped-hood, @vixorell, @hope4rain15, @hamburgerslippers. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, let me know!

#bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair fanfiction #dilf bo sinclair #slasher x reader #agaas #a gentleman and a scoundrel #my writing #bo sinclair

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slytherhys · 10 months

Text

Cruel Summer III

A/N: I truly appreciate everyone who waits for my updates because I know how long I usually take to update my stories. Unfortunately, my writing will sooner answer to inspiration than schedules and routines, so let's just accept that and not give up on Cruel Summer. (please) 🥹💜

TW: Explicit Content, Mature themes, Strong language.

AO3

Prologue - I - II - III

Adriata had always seemed like the perfect place to Elain - a piece of paradise stuck in time, waiting for her return every summer just as school was over. No matter 9 months had come and gone, the sea would still be there, blue and sparkling under the sun, the peach and lemon trees offering shade in the warmest of days, their scent filling the streets leading to Nana’s house.

There would be summer fairs and the weekly Adriata market Nana insisted on visiting every Sunday, dragging Elain and Feyre along as she walked from stall to stall, buying freshly caught fish and local produce. Nesta, of course, got to stay in bed and sleep in - something she could do because she was older, Nana explained every time. It had seemed unfair at the time, but now Elain wondered if it had been simply easier for Nana to let Nesta sleep instead of dealing with her mood swings during her teenage years.

Truth was, no matter how much Elain changed every year – how much they all changed - Adriata had remained the only constant in their lives, a reminder that not all was bad, that somewhere in the world things simply were. No matter the heartbreak, the change, the sadness… her favourite pistachio ice cream would still be there, as would the sun and the waves and Nana’s warm smile.

Elain found herself getting out of her hotel room, out into the streets of the seaside city, as soon as the first sunbeams shone through her white curtains. Maybe it was the nostalgia, or maybe it was the restless energy coursing through her body, but Elain was looking forward to spending one day exploring the city, - and if that delayed her return to Nana’s house by a few hours, so be it.

Truth was, two years had come and gone, and for the first time in her life, Elain wondered if this time around, not even Adriata had managed to resist the passage of time. She certainly hadn’t - and neither had her sisters.

But as Elain walked down the streets of the city, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia run through her body. It certainly looked the same – cobbled pavements, colourful buildings with clothes hanging on the washing lines, centuries-old shops that seemed to tell stories of old… But there was no Nana. Her sisters were home, probably planning a wedding, Rhys and Cassian helping whenever they allowed. And Elain was still running, after all these months.

She should’ve listened to Nana when she said that there was no point in running, because when something – or someone – was meant to find you, they would.

Elain blinked once, twice, not fully understanding what, exactly, she was seeing. Because by the end of the street, just to the left of Tharion’s Ice Cream Parlour, stood Azriel. Eating a pistachio ice cream, his eyes covered by a pair of sunglasses that did little to hide to where, exactly, he was looking at – mainly because Elain could feel it. She ignored the way her heartbeat raced, ignored the way it suddenly seemed entirely too hard to think rationally. He wasn’t supposed to be here, and she certainly wasn’t supposed to react like that. Still, before Elain could ever realise what she was doing, she was making her ways towards him, as if she had any say on whether he should be here or not.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, slightly out of breath. Her voice sounded meek, weak, and she was relieved when he didn’t comment on it.

The left corner of his lips lifted slightly. “Good morning to you too, El.”

She ignored him, frowning down at his hands. “Are you eating ice cream?”

He raised an eyebrow. “It would appear so.” He said, raising the cone slightly and taking a lick out of it. It was downright appalling, the way her body reacted. She frowned a little bit harder.

“It’s 10am.” She pointed out, completely aware she shouldn’t be this concerned over his eating habits. But she knew that wasn’t what was bothering her – and from the way Azriel smiled, he knew it too.

He pushed his sunglasses up, his eyes immediately locking onto hers. Elain looked away. “I’m aware.” He smirked, swallowing hard before asking, “Is there a right time to eat ice cream?”

The words rang familiar inside her mind, yet so unlike something he’d say that Elain simply shook her head, clearing away any foggy memories that threatened to break free. “There’s definitely a wrong time to eat ice cream.”

Azriel chuckled, tilting his head. “Can I keep you company?” He asked instead of replying, probably aware that she was just trying to pick up a fight. Elain tried not to huff in annoyance at how easily he still saw through her.

Still, she raised her head, locking eyes with him. She ignored the urge to look away again, far too aware of how his eyes seemed to lighten up as he watched her. It was all in her head – it always had been all in her head, hadn’t it? “Sorry?”

“You’re going to market, right?” He nodded towards her tote bag – the one she always used for shopping ever since Nana had gifted it to her. How he remembered that was beyond her.

Elain frowned, suddenly uncomfortable by how close they were standing. “How do you know about the market?” She stepped around his body, walking away without waiting for him to follow. But of course he did, his long legs eating up the distance between them in a matter of two steps.

“I pay attention.” He shrugged, taking a bite out of his sugar cone.

She watched his tongue dart out to catch a crumb from the corner of his mouth and quickly looked away frowning, cursing the blush she could feel warming up her skin. “It’s not exactly a popular attraction.” She mumbled, not entirely sure why she was suddenly so combative about so many different things.

“I’m not paying attention to tourist attractions, El.” Azriel said nonchalantly. Far too nonchalantly.

She eyed him, her heart picking up its pace inside her chest. A cold sweat ran through her body, and not for the first time since arriving to Adriata, Elain felt entirely too unprepared for Azriel Rosehall. “Then what are you paying attention to?” She asked, ignoring the soft tremble in her voice. Luckily, Azriel ignored it too.

He shoved the rest of his ice cream cone inside his mouth, smiling cockily down at her. Why her body seemed to heat up, Elain didn’t care to understand. She raised an eyebrow, fighting to recover whatever little control she had in this conversation. But Azriel shook his head, walking towards the first stall of the market with a dramatic sigh. “Ellie, I don’t believe you’re quite ready for that answer yet.”

She stopped in her tracks, frowning at his walking figure. “What is that supposed to mean?” But Azriel was already too far ahead, strolling through the different stalls and eyeing each piece of fruit like he was truly looking for something specific. The sight of it – of him - as so painfully domestic, so painfully familiar, that Elain had to look away, even as he asked:

“What are we looking for, exactly?” He eyed her, frowning as he saw her turn away.

Elain cleared her throat, walking assertively towards a familiar stand. “We are not looking for anything.” She looked back at him, surprised to find him so close to her already. He was off to her left side, hands behind his back as he looked over the fruit in front of them. His eyes found hers, but Elain quickly looked away. “I never invited you.” She reminded him.

Azriel shrugged. “You didn’t send me away either.”

She supposed she hadn’t, but alas. “Peaches.” She said, a bit more loudly than intended. “I’m making a pie.”

“And pistachios,” He said, eyeing the sweet old lady working behind the stall, who was eyeing them with amused curiosity. “For the cannoli,” He smiled, earning himself a blush from the vendor.

Elain scoffed. “I’m not making cannoli.”

“Why not?” He said, as he gently threaded his hands through the bundles of flowers. Elain said nothing, simply watching him as he picked a handful of bluebells.

“Because you’re the only one who eats them.” She said absentmindedly. She knew for a fact that had never stopped her before.

“And do I mean that little to you?” He handed the bag of peaches to the vendor before turning to her with a raised eyebrow. Elain found herself speechless, with no proper answer to give.

He was joking, of course, but what could she truly say? That no, he absolutely did not mean that little to her – on contrary, even though six months had come and gone of self-inflicted isolation and misery, the very sight of him yesterday had nearly made her forget all the promises she had made herself. All the pain they had shared, all the secrets, and the lies, and the heartbreak.

And wasn’t that entirely too much to say over a witty request of a pastry?

So she’d simply laugh and pretend the request wasn’t followed by the heavy weight of their shared memories, and they’d forget all about it. They could keep pretending nothing had ever happened – that Christmas hadn’t broken everything they had built in the months prior. Wasn’t that what he seemed to be doing? Making jokes, and bantering and smiling?

But by the time Elain remembered to react, entirely too much time had gone by already.

She sputtered, nearly flinching when she saw his smile falter. “Azriel-”

Az cleared his throat. “I’ll go get the peaches.”

• ───────────────── •

When, a few hours later, Elain parked her car in Nana’s driveway, she wasn’t surprised to find her sisters already waiting for her at the front porch – she had called ahead, letting them know she was finally driving back after lunch, and Nesta had promptly announced she had kicked the men out of the house so they could have some sisterly bonding time. Elain had been all for it – mainly when Feyre had hugged her, kissed her on the cheek and dragged her to the terrace, handing her a glass of wine before she could even mutter a hello. Nesta had said nothing either, simply taking Elain’s groceries to the kitchen and joining them seconds after, a mug on her hand. Elain highly doubted she was drinking coffee, but she chose not to ask.

Now, two hours and as many bottles of wine later, as they snuggled against each other on the terrace’s couch overlooking the sea, she could admit that she had missed her sisters something fierce. It wasn’t really a surprise – staying away from them had been an herculean effort, but some way, somehow, she had convinced herself that being away from them wasn’t all that bad. How wrong had she been.

“We have my dress fitting this Friday,” Nesta said from where she sat, looking down to her agenda as if she hadn’t memorised every single thing written on it by now. “Followed by cake tasting.”

“When’s the bachelorette party?” Feyre quipped, making Elain snort into her cup. Nesta levelled them with an unimpressed look, and both Feyre and Elain sat a little bit straighter under her cool gaze. “What?” Feyre asked indignantly. “You’re getting married, it’s a valid question.” She said, looking at Elain for support. Elain avidly nodded, making Nesta roll her eyes.

“I was thinking of just planning a night out.” She said, her eyes dropping back to the notebook on her lap.

“Just us three?” Elain asked hopefully. The last time they had gone out just the three of them had been when she was twenty-two – the very same night Feyre had met Rhys and changed their lives forever. She missed having fun with them, but she couldn’t exactly complain about it when she was the one that had made it impossible for the last six months.

Nesta, clearly, had other plans. “With all of us.” She added with a shrug.

“Really?” Feyre asked with a smile on her face, obviously excited to spend yet another night by Rhysand’s side. Elain, however, stood frozen.

“Why?” She asked in a less friendly tone. Her sisters both turned to her, questioning looks on their faces. They were right to be doubtful – months ago, Elain would’ve been just as excited as Feyre at the thought of spending more time with Azriel.

“There’s like two bars in Adriata, it’s not like we won’t end up bumping into each other.” Nesta reasoned.

“And Nesta loves Cassian and wants to spend time with him, which is something she forgot to mention.” Feyre quipped with a cheesy smile on her face.

Elain could hardly complain about that, mainly as she saw Nesta trying to hide the blush covering her cheeks. Even if the thought of mixing alcohol and Azriel’s presence sent a bolt of dread cursing through her bloodstream.

She faintly heard the sound of the terrace door open and close as she asked, “Will it be just us six?” Will Azriel be bringing someone? She wanted to ask instead.

Nesta tilted her head slightly. “As far as I’m concerned.” Then she frowned. “Are you thinking of bringing someone?” She asked, earning a gasp from a tipsy Feyre. She was suddenly too aware of a familiar presence behind her, aware of who it was as both Cassian and Rhys joined their respective partners.

“To the wedding?” Cassian asked as he pressed a gentle kiss to Nesta’s cheek.

Nesta’s head snapped to Elain, eyes calculating. “You’re bringing him to the wedding, too?” Elain felt the panic clog up her throat, crushing down every single word that dared leave her mouth. As it was, she could feel Azriel’s hazel gaze burning into the right side of her face. He still hadn’t sat down, she noticed reluctantly.

Feyre was still gaping at her. “Is that why you’ve been radio silent? You met someone?”

To her right, Azriel had gone still. Yet, Elain refused to look at him.

Rhysand raised a brow, pulling Feyre to his lap as he sat on the love seat to her left, its dark blue fabric already pale from the sun. “Is it the guy you opened the bakery with?”

“What guy?” Azriel's voice was deadly quiet. She ignored it.

“No guy.” She said finally, laughing nervously. “There’s no one.” Her eyes met Azriel’s for a second, quickly darting away as she noticed the intensity burning there. She turned to Nesta again. “I was just wondering if you were inviting your friends or Cassian’s friends.” Or, perhaps, a friend of Azriel’s.

But Nesta seemed to see right through her, eyes narrowed before she finally said, “Just us six.” She shrugged, blue eyes darting to the man to her side. “But I can’t promise you there won’t be any add-ins.”

Elain frowned, setting down her glass of wine on the coffee table. She tried not to glance at Azriel again, failing miserably when he finally sat down on the armchair next to hers. “What do you mean?”

“Azriel.” She raised her eyebrows, as if to say obviously. Elain wasn’t proud of the way her head snapped towards him, mainly when Azriel smirked at the movement.

Cassian snickered, making Elain turn her gaze away. “Remember last summer in Cretea when he took someone home?”

Elain frowned, meeting Azriel’s eyes once again. No, that wasn't possible. Was it? They had already been sleeping together by then and she had been there for most of the trip. Not at all of... But still. Had he already been lying to her? Had he been making a fool out of her the entire time? A part of her said he'd never do something like that, but another part - a more jaded one that seemed to haunt her with unwelcome memories - begged to differ. Azriel’s smirk dimmed at whatever he saw in her face, all humour draining from of his eyes.

Feyre, oblivious to their interaction, groaned. “Oh, I remember.” She said. “Rhys and I were sleeping right next door.” She shuddered dramatically.

Her stomach seemed to hollow out. She had only been able to meet them days later, too busy taking care of the bakery in Velaris. When she had finally gotten to their rented villa in Cretea, the very first thing she had done - although she now recalled it with a bit of embarrassment - was sleep with him. Evidently, completely oblivious-

Wait.

“When was this?” She asked, mindless of her tone or of how strange her curiosity would seem to all of them.

“You should remember, you also shared a wall with him.” Feyre added with a snort, draining her glass of wine in one small gulp. Oh. Oh fuck.

She felt her entire body flush, entirely too aware of his eyes on the side of her face. She dreaded what she’d found on his face this time around.

“I have to give it to her, she did try to keep quiet.” Feyre kept going, making Elain feel a little bit sick. She glanced at Azriel, hating the proud smirk on his face, the victory that now shone in his eyes at the realisation she knew Feyre was talking about her - Elain had been the one trying to keep quiet. And failing miserably, it seemed.

“You want everyone to know how much you’re liking this, El?” His calloused hands seemed to be everywhere, dragging along her sweaty skin, his hips thrusting against hers in a maddening rhythm. She had missed this, had missed it so fucking much. “Or do I need to gag you?

She turned her head, unable to keep her eyes off of him. The memory of that night seemed to pulse between them, a heady reminder of all the ways they used to come alive under each other’s touch, how the secrecy had been intoxicating before it had become suffocating. Something seemed to shift as his eyes met hers, his darkening pupils seeming to say I remember it too. I remember everything. Elain squirmed in her seat, feeling too hot under his stare. He seemed to track that movement too, clenching his hand where it hung.

“And there was Bharat,” Every name was a flood of memories coursing through her mind. “and Dunmere and-”

“I think we get it, my love.” Rhys interrupted softly, subtly taking Feyre’s wine glass away from her. Elain silently thanked him, trying to push back the intoxicating assault of their memories away. It seemed impossible with Azriel standing so close.

“At least this time around we won’t be the one listening to anything.” Feyre’s smug voice snapped her away from her scrutiny but it still took a few seconds for Elain’s brain to truly understand what her sister had said. Azriel growled, and Elain tried to ignore the way her body seemed to react to the familiar sound. “I’m not going to bring anyone.” Azriel started.

Realisation seemed to hit Elain. There were only 4 rooms in this house – and only two of them had queen-sized beds. Nana’s and Nesta’s. But if Feyre wasn’t sleeping in her room… “Where are you staying?"

Feyre shrugged, glancing at Nesta as if confused by the sudden intrigue. “In Nana’s room.”

“Why?” It was a stupid question - Nesta’s unimpressed stare said enough - but she couldn’t help but act stupid. If her maths were correct… Well, the universe didn’t seem to be on her side.

“There’s two queen beds, Elain.” Nesta pointed out. “And no matter how much I’d like to see Rhysand sleep in the basement, it only makes sense that he sleeps with Feyre.”

Rhys rolled his eyes, but Feyre leaned against him, kissing him sweetly. “I’d sleep in the basement with you.” Feyre drunkenly murmured against his lips, making everyone quickly look away. They were sickeningly in love - Elain thought it was adorable.

“Who’s staying in Feyre’s room?” Elain asked, undeterred. Feyre’s room – the one that not only shared a wall with Elain’s, but also a fucking door. A simple, cobalt-blue ratty door.

Elain looked at Nesta hopefully, already dreading the name that was about to come out of her sister’s mouth. It was the obvious answer, Elain knew that. And there was little she could do, or say without arousing much suspicion.

“Me.” Azriel answered instead, a hint of finality to his tone that had Elain clamp her mouth shut, completely aware he was waiting for a reaction – almost daring her to react in front of her entire family. But she had already given him enough of that earlier that day – and she knew anything about to come out of her mouth would only make the distance between the two of them grow bigger.

She didn’t want to jump back into his bed, but she refused to let her - no matter how painful it was to admit - deeply unresolved feelings ruin Nesta’s wedding.

Her sisters eyed Azriel and Elain with enough interest to make her uncomfortable, making her squirm in her seat for any entirely different reason. Luckily, neither said anything, simply rising with pleased smiles on their faces and walking to the kitchen – probably to start dinner. Rhys and Cassian followed suit.

Elain stood as well, thinking back to the pie she still had to bake. Baking would do her good – it’d bring her some peace, at the very least, baking for her sisters after so long. And if she were lucky, she would find the keys to the door among the forgotten kitchen drawers Nana never came around to clean.

But Azriel seemed to have other plans, rising as well and standing entirely too close to her. His clean scent surrounded her, so familiar her heart clenched inside her chest.

“You know damn well it was you.” He said, his voice pure midnight and sin against her ear. “It was all you.”

Elain gulped, trying to bury the bitterness threatening to burst out of her skin. “But that’s not the truth, is it?” She dared, hating the way he flinched - a confirmation, if there ever was one.

“It is, Elain.” Her name sent a shiver down her spine. “It was you with your hands tied behind your back in Cretea, and it was you with your pretty legs wrapped around my shoulders in Bharat and it was you bouncing on my cock in Dunmere.” His took a deep breath. “There’s always only been you.” He said, the message in his words clear enough.

But still, Elain took a deep breath, refusing to give in to his games. None of it mattered now, did it? It was too late. “Not anymore.”

Azriel opened his mouth to say something, the intent on eyes obvious: a challenge accepted, if there was ever one. Elain ought to push him away, refusing to let him see exactly how easy it would be to convince her – she should feel embarrassed about it, but the heat burning under her skin seemed to scorch any remaining rational thought.

But Feyre’s yelp quickly pulled them apart; Elain breathing loudly, cursing herself under her breath, Azriel’s jaw clenched, eyes conflicted. There was little to say as her little sister came running out of the kitchen, a small bag of ingredients in her hand, Rhysand’s sweater reaching down to her knees. Elain froze where she stood, refusing to even glance at the man who had gone still next to her. “You’re making cannoli?” She asked, excitedly.

Elain felt her cheeks burning, Azriel’s smug arrogance so evident she could almost feel it. With the incriminating bag of ingredients and the stifling conversation she had had with Azriel, she could hardly pretend it was anything other than cannoli. Still, she only said, "Maybe.” as if she wasn't admitting defeat all the same.

Feyre cheered drunkenly, quickly running back inside without a glance back. Azriel chuckled softly, a heartbreakingly beautiful smile on his face as he turned to face her. She hated how much she loved it. He almost looked boyish - something anyone else would think was a ridiculous notion associated with Azriel, but Elain knew better.

He started walking backwards, his eyes never leaving hers. "I’m starting to think you’re a liar, Elain.” He said, smiling. He then turned smoothly around and left Elain dumbfounded where she stood.

Worst part was, he was absolutely right – she was a liar. And a terrible one, too, let alone with Azriel - the one person who saw her, who listened to her, who knew her better than anyone else. There was no hiding, no secrets between them- not on her end, at least. Which meant that, in whatever twisted game they seemed to had started playing, Elain was already losing.

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