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electronalytics · 2 years ago

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PV Racking and Mounting Equipment Market Business Strategies and Huge Demand by 2032

Overview: The PV (Photovoltaic) racking and mounting equipment market refers to the market for components and systems used to securely install and mount solar panels in photovoltaic systems. Racking and mounting equipment are essential for ensuring proper positioning, stability, and durability of solar panels in various applications, such as residential, commercial, and utility-scale solar installations. The solar PV mounting systems market size exceeded USD 24.1 billion in 2022 and is poised to depict 3.9% CAGR during 2023 to 2032

Trends:

Increasing solar installations: The PV racking and mounting equipment market has witnessed significant growth due to the increasing installation of solar PV systems globally. The growing demand for clean and renewable energy sources, coupled with declining solar panel costs, has led to a surge in solar installations across residential, commercial, and utility sectors. This trend has directly influenced the demand for racking and mounting equipment.

Technological advancements: The market is experiencing continuous technological advancements in PV racking and mounting equipment. Innovations include improved mounting systems, lightweight materials, enhanced adjustability, and integrated cable management solutions. These advancements aim to improve installation efficiency, reduce material and labor costs, and ensure optimal system performance.

Shift towards bifacial and larger solar modules: The solar industry is witnessing a shift towards bifacial solar modules and larger-sized solar panels. This trend requires racking and mounting solutions that can accommodate the unique requirements of bifacial modules and effectively handle the increased size and weight of larger solar panels. Manufacturers are developing specialized racking and mounting solutions to cater to these emerging needs.

Key Factors: Key factors influencing the PV racking and mounting equipment market include:

Solar industry growth: The growth of the solar industry, including both residential and utility-scale installations, directly impacts the demand for racking and mounting equipment. Factors such as government policies, incentives, and declining solar panel costs contribute to the expansion of the solar industry and subsequently drive the demand for mounting equipment.

Technological advancements: Advancements in racking and mounting solutions, such as innovative designs, improved installation techniques, and enhanced durability, play a vital role in driving market growth. Technological developments that simplify installation processes, increase system efficiency, and reduce maintenance requirements are highly sought after by installers and system owners.

Cost-effectiveness and system performance: Cost-effectiveness, ease of installation, and system performance are key factors influencing the selection of racking and mounting equipment. Installers and system owners seek solutions that provide reliable and long-lasting performance, while also being cost-competitive and easy to install. Manufacturers that offer high-quality products at competitive prices are likely to gain a competitive edge in the market.

Forecast Analysis: The PV racking and mounting equipment market is expected to witness continued growth in the forecast period. Factors such as the increasing adoption of solar energy, supportive government policies, and technological advancements in racking and mounting solutions are anticipated to drive market expansion. Additionally, the growing trend towards bifacial and larger solar modules will create opportunities for manufacturers to develop specialized mounting solutions.

However, market dynamics and growth forecasts may vary regionally due to factors such as regional energy policies, market maturity, and local installation practices. It is also important to consider potential challenges, such as pricing pressures, competition, and regulatory changes, which may influence market growth.

PV Racking and Mounting Equipment Market key benefits for stakeholders

Durability and Longevity: High-quality racking and mounting solutions are built to withstand challenging environmental conditions, including extreme temperatures, wind, and snow loads. They contribute to the longevity of the solar installation, providing a reliable, long-term energy solution.

Reduced Maintenance Costs: Well-designed mounting equipment minimizes the risk of damage to solar panels and the overall system. This results in lower maintenance and repair costs over the system's lifespan.

Safety and Compliance: Compliance with relevant building codes and safety standards is critical in solar installations. Quality PV racking and mounting equipment ensures the safety of workers during installation and maintenance and helps meet regulatory requirements.

Opportunities for Manufacturers and Suppliers: The PV racking and mounting equipment market presents business opportunities for manufacturers and suppliers in the renewable energy sector. As solar adoption continues to grow, demand for these products remains steady, encouraging investments and innovation in the industry.

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Market Segmentations:

Global PV Racking and Mounting Equipment Market: By Company • Nextracker • Trina Solar • FTC Solar • Akcome • PV Racking • Clenergy • JZNEE • K2 Systems • Versolsolar Hangzhou Co., Ltd. • Schletter Solar • Unirac • Array Technologies • Arctech Solar • Soltec • Jsolar • GameChange Solar • Gibraltar Industries • Ideematec • ArcelorMittal (Exosun) • Huge Energy • DPW Solar • RBI Solar • Ideematec • Renusol • Van der Valk Solar Systems • GRENGY • Esdec • Xiamen Mibet New Energy Global PV Racking and Mounting Equipment Market: By Type • Roof Mounting • Ground Mounting Global PV Racking and Mounting Equipment Market: By Application • Industrial and Commercial Roof • Ground Power Station Global PV Racking and Mounting Equipment Market: Regional Analysis All the regional segmentation has been studied based on recent and future trends, and the market is forecasted throughout the prediction period. The countries covered in the regional analysis of the Global PV Racking and Mounting Equipment market report are U.S., Canada, and Mexico in North America, Germany, France, U.K., Russia, Italy, Spain, Turkey, Netherlands, Switzerland, Belgium, and Rest of Europe in Europe, Singapore, Malaysia, Australia, Thailand, Indonesia, Philippines, China, Japan, India, South Korea, Rest of Asia-Pacific (APAC) in the Asia-Pacific (APAC), Saudi Arabia, U.A.E, South Africa, Egypt, Israel, Rest of Middle East and Africa (MEA) as a part of Middle East and Africa (MEA), and Argentina, Brazil, and Rest of South America as part of South America.

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#Solar Module Mounting #Photovoltaic Racking #Photovoltaic Mounting Equipment #Solar PV Racking Systems #Solar PV Mounting Solutions

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olomaya · 6 months ago

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Private Clinic - Optometry (+ updates)

So this is the optometry portion of my Private Clinic mod (eventual series). I had hoped to get this out much earlier but just lost interest/motivation but I managed to eke through with hours of 2024 to spare. 😅 Procrastination and I are long-time friends so I'm pretty proud of myself -- the old me would have just dumped this project and moved on to some new shiny. That's not to say that I didn't but at least this time I came back to it!

What this does:

Adds the ability for licensed doctors (see private clinic for details) to run an optometry clinic and treat patients.

Creates astigmatism and a couple of other eye diseases for Sims

Adds update to the clinic system allowing you to set office hours as a doctor, or make appointments as patients, track billing, income and expenses, among other new features

A few updates to the Private Clinic Psychiatry module such as more buffs added that can be treated and being able to use the main controller's payment system.

There is A LOT of information so please read through the documentation (there's two, a new one for the PC core features and one just for optometry) before using and bug reporting. This is a scheduled post (I'm currently under a table somewhere eating grapes) so please don't DM me with any bug reports. Instead, please log it here. If you see the same issue you're experiencing already logged, then just add your name or number to the "I have it too" column.

DOWNLOADS:

Private Clinic main files - Please sort the files list by date so you can see the 5 files which have been updated/added for you to download. You NEED the MAIN file, MaladyManager and prescription objects to run any of the modules. The rest depends on which features you want.

Private Clinic Optometry Module

Private Clinic Psychiatry Module update

Credits and thanks to all the wonderful cc creators whose objects were made of use in this mod:

@aroundthesims (of course), the exam chair and eye chart from this amazing hospital set by Hekate999, Lavoieri, Moonskin93 for the contact lenses, Syboulette for the actual contact lenses, and the true to their name simcredible designs for the eyeglass rack.

Thanks to @simsdeogloria for helping me test this mod.

If you have any issues, please do log them. And if you can't use the log, please let me know!

Happy New Year!

#s3cc #s3cc download #sims 3 cc #privateclinicmod #privateclinic #optometry mod

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rabotimagines · 4 months ago

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I keep rereading your decepticons with a cybertronian reader who calls them pet names, and j wanted to share the mental image I had.

Skywarp seeing them enter the room and sliding on his knees like “there goes my babyyyy” meme.

Meanwhile you, unphased just place a servo on his head as you inform Megatron of your lastest report.

I’m down bad 😔 and ily.

-Applin

*YouTubes meme* OH YEAH, totally 100% he would. Pspspsps Moot, come get your food @smallestapplin

Summary: GN Bot reader using human pet names!

G1 character: Skywarp!

Genre/Theme: Platonic but flirting

Pronouns: You, Your, Yours

Skywarps getting reamed out by you for a prank he pulled on Astrotrain. At least you didn't beat him if he didn't start slag himself first (like Screamer or Megatron). So Skywarp just stays where he is and waits for your mouth to stop moving. They won't punish him again for the same thing if you've already done it. But he's got more important things to do, y'know! Okay, maybe he stops listening and only starts again when you just up and grab Skywarp's jaw and yank him to focus back on your optics.

"Now c'mon babe, we both know we don't want to be here right now. Do us both a favor and focus the first time." Babe? Babe??? Skywarp didn't care a lot for the squishies and their culture but Skywarp knew what "babe" meant. His optics cycle once but he stays where he's staring at your faceplate as you keep ripping him apart with your words. You finish and Skywarp only realizes you're done after you wait for a klick for a response. When he doesn't respond you actually brush your em field up against his frame- You open your mouth again and Skywarp's still staring right into your optics when you start speaking again "Got that, sweetspark?"

Skywarp's wings hike up and his plating fluffs. "Uh yeah- yeah! I got it! Don't put dye in the communal wash racks- or something- got it!"

Your blank expression shifts and you smile at him. "Good boy. Don't do it again." Your em field brushes along the side of his helm and you just turn and leave him standing there. Skywarp watches you leave before his mouth shuts with a click.

Skywarps like a starved mech- it wasn't like any of them were getting any stuck on this mud ball in the middle of nowhere of the galaxy. He's not wasting the chance at something even if it was just affection and not interfacing. And slag it all it's been wayyyy too long since Skywarps even gotten flirted with by anyone. Yeah the violence and fighting of being a con was fun and all but he doesn't realize how much he missed the fun of this until you started flirting with everybody. Which, the fact you flirt with everybody? Skywarp gets annoyed over it. Skywarp wants your attention on him- c'mon he's doing soooo much better than Thundercracker right now! Stop calling him cute and start calling Skywarp cute instead!

It's like night and day suddenly when it's you he has to answer to vs Starscream or Soundwave. (Primus, below he's actually behaved- well as behaved as Skywarp can be.)

Then you come waltzing into the meeting room, and Skywarps warping out of his chair- Thundercrackers got his face in his servo already, and Starscreams already glaring in your direction knowing exactly where Skywarps going. You don't even flinch when Skywarp wraps himself around your waist. Servo petting Skywarp's helm while you just casually start reading off your report. Megatron bluntly asks if you rewired Skywarps personality module due to this being the first time he sees it. You just grin and give Megatron a look- which is apparently enough for an explanation and Megatron just scoffs and goes "I see." As they watch you praise Skywarp for completing what you asked him to do earlier in the cycle.

#transformers #transformers x reader #transformers x cybertronian reader #transformers x y/n #x reader #rabot writes #x gn reader #skywarp x reader #rabot requests

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phoebejaysims · 11 months ago

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Boutique Mod - DOWNLOAD

Inspired by the sims 2 shopping for clothes system, I present a sims 3 take on buying clothes, accessories and running a thriving boutique! Set up shifts, keep the racks stocked, and you might find yourself in profit!

Required:

Ambitions

NRAAS Master Controller + Integration Module

Optional:

ITF if you want to use the clothes mannequin and some visual effects.

Late Night if you want the animations for the security guard.

Seasons for extra interactions on the mannequin.

Savvy Seller Set for some visual and audio effects.

Full Documentation is included in the download. I spent a while writing it out, so please read thoroughly!

How Stores Work:

Set up a shift

Hire Employees (bosses count as employees so stores are fully functional with only one sim!)

Link at least one rack to the register

Open for business!

Employees:

Store employees can be given three types of roles: register attendant, sales attendant and security guard.

Employees will do their jobs automatically but you can always manually tell them to do things too like: restocking, dressing up mannequins, helping customers, among other things.

Customers:

Inactive and active sims can browse through the racks and have the ability to purchase items. They'll interact differently depending on if they are shopping at a clothes rack, accessory rack, or at a mannequin.

Inactives won't purchase outfits from mannequins unless you direct them to (or you enable auto-purchasing in the XML). However, they may "fake" buy clothes.

Once finished shopping, customers hold their bags and wait to be rung up! Take too long and they may abandon their purchase.

Shopping:

Adjust prices and restrict customers by age and gender to customise your store!

Clothes Racks:

Buy Clothes for your own sim, sims in your household, or (if you're an employee) suggest clothes for customers.

Employees that suggest clothes for customers can fulfil Ambition Stylist jobs this way.

Accessories Racks:

Choose accessories to be sold by adding them to the XML in the package file. The XML comes loaded with a few base game items already plus a couple modded items (Arsil's Sunglasses and lipstick - that won't be loaded unless you have them installed).

Sell buy-mode items as well as CAS items!

Make your CAS items wearable from your sim's inventory using your own meshes or my dummy accessory (see Documentation and XML for details).

Blacklist certain categories from being shown. If you want a dedicated shoe shop or an opticians, you can have it!

Try on products before buying them to see if they suit your sim. If there's a mirror in the room, they'll check themselves out in it.

Clothing Mannequin:

Try on the mannequin outfits to see if they suit your sim.

Plan different outfits to display and even set them to be rotated through seasonally.

Let your employees be creative and choose a random outfit for the mannequin to wear.

Buy clothes for your own sim, household members, or customers.

Allow or disallow inactives from automatically purchasing display outfits.

Security Gates:

Give your security guards something to stand and look threatening by.

You can try your luck at stealing from the shop. If you're caught, you'll have to pay up. If you get past the gates (or if there are no gates), enjoy your bounty!

Boutique Door:

Cloned from the Savvy Seller doors without the annoying 'kick-every-last-person-out-the-building-come-closing-time' feature.

Link this to a register and let the open and close sign automatically flip itself. Also, close the store or rename it, straight from the door.

Phone Interactions:

Ask for time off work (paid or unpaid).

Call in sick.

Cancel vacation days.

Credits and Thanks:

@dhalsims for adding geostates to the ITF rack for me. Modders, I really recommend her if you need any 3D models made also!

DouglasVeiga for the BG rack with the geostates.

@aroundthesims for allowing me to use her objects in my mod as always!

Sims 4 for all the animations that I converted.

Simstate & merchant mods for the idea to go into a mode to link racks to the register.

The OG shop for clothes mod and pedestal by @anitmb.

Arsil and @zoeoe-sims for wearable CAS items idea that I adapted.

Ani's Candle mod & Amb. Makeover XML which I looked at for inspo on how to do accessory rack xml.

Compatibility:

All new objects so shouldn't conflict with anything really.

Removes the 'plan outfit' interaction from dressers.

Made on version 1.67.

If you would like to donate as thanks, please feel free to do so at: my kofi! I don't take your generosity for granted!

Download: - Simblr.cc - 2t3 Boutique Mod Suggested Extra CC: - Lyralei's TS2 Conversions (incl. clothes changing booth) - More ATS3 Security Gates - ATS3 Friperie Set

Known issues, prop information and the full feature breakdown are all in the documentation.

Please be patient with me if there are bugs to fix. Also, anyone who DMs me "I don't know how to create a new shift" will be immediately fined £150.

With that said, please enjoy the mod and tag me in your beautiful boutiques,

Phoebe :)

#sims 3 #phoebejaysims #boutique mod #ts3 #ts3 mods #sims 3 mod #sims 3 cc #simblr #sims 3 download #2t3 #functional obj

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narnian-neverlander · 1 day ago

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The Haunting [Jason Todd x GN!Reader]

Preview: “You really never stopped searching… Never gave up…” It’s quiet, almost reverent - like he still can’t believe it, even though the proof is right there in front of him. And you can feel the sting of tears behind your eyes before you know it; no modulator to make him sound like a different man, a monster. No sobs racking his entire body, turning his voice hoarse and frantic. Just Jason. Exhausted and broken, but still Jason. Your Jason. Who sounds like he can’t fathom the idea of you caring enough, loving him enough, to dedicate your life to bringing him home.

Genre: hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending

Word Count: 7,9k

Warnings: mentions of canon typical violence & torture, erratic & unstable behavior and panic attack (Jason), mention of unintentional injuries and self harm (Reader)

A/N: One AK edit to this song back when the game came out and I’ve been obssessed since. Arkham Knight Jason, my broken, beautiful baby. Can y’all believe it’s been 10 years since this version of Jason became my favorite and I’m still not shutting up about him? Happy game release anniversary everybody where the fuck did the last decade go

If you use any of my works for AI I will hunt you down for sport 😬

You know something’s wrong the moment you unlock your apartment door and step inside. Nothing’s out of place, there are no lights on and you can’t hear anything either, but the chill crawling up your spine is enough of a warning that while you might not be consciously aware of any threats, your unconscious mind is most definitely screaming at you. So you drop your bag to the floor as gingerly and quietly as possible and immediately go for the gun taped under the couch table. Weapon held out in front of you, you creep around your dark apartment, mindful to make as little noise as possible. It’s a small place to begin with and there’s only so many spaces someone could truly hide if they wanted to - as it turns out though, the intruder isn’t trying to hide in the slightest: a dark figure, hunched over next to your bed, inspecting something on your bedside table.

“Just for the record, I wait tables at a greasy diner. Whatever big score you might be hoping for here, you’ll be sorely disappointed.” you quip as you cock the gun and aim. The figure turns around slowly, not cautiously, more so unbothered, standing to his full height and as the streetlights from outside filter through your blinds and glint off his armor you start to realize that you might be in way more trouble than you originally thought. He’s an absolute unit of a man, at least six foot with a broad frame to match, armored head to toe and two guns strapped to his thighs. Whoever he is, you’re definitely not looking at your run of the mill, Gothamite burglar and you feel your palms start to sweat as dread spikes. “Okay so I’m pretty sure I didn’t piss off anyone in power enough to warrant you,” you start, desperately trying to keep a cool demeanor and your voice from cracking, “so I think you might have the wrong apartment, buddy.”

He chuckles, the sound low and warped through the modulator in his helmet, as he crosses his arms over his chest and cocks his head to the side, glowing blue eyes fixed on you. “No, I’m exactly where I need to be, sweetheart.” You open your mouth to argue again, but he interrupts you with your full name, birthday, even your phone number.

Well, fuck.

“‘Kay, so you know an awful lot about me, but I know nothing about you or what you’re doing here. Kinda rude, don’t ya think?” You’re inching backwards as slowly as you can while you say it; you’re fairly certain there’s no way in hell you’ll be able to outrun him, but you’d rather take your chances running from him than having to fight him head on. “You realize I know where you live; how much good is running right now really gonna do you?” So much for that plan. You halt your steps, but keep your gun trained on him, forcing a wry smile. “Ah, you noticed. Good. Figured I’d assess how good you actually are before I take you down.” He spreads his arms out wide as an invitation. “Take your best shot. But just so we’re both on the same page, I’m not here to hurt you.” And you have no clue where you take the courage from, maybe just downright stupidity, but you actually have the guts to roll your eyes at that. “Well pardon me, your getup and the whole breaking and entering thing doesn’t exactly scream friendly neighborhood Nightwing.”

“Oh trust me, I’m nothing of the sort.” he states, taking a few heavy steps in your direction and you barely fight the urge to bolt. “But my fight’s not with you. I’m simply here to deliver a warning.” Furrowed brows are enough of an indication for him to keep going. “Get outta of Gotham before Halloween. Matter of fact, book it to the other side of the country and don’t come back.” The absolute shock actually makes you lower your gun just a fraction, staring at him in complete bewilderment. “I… what?”

Shrugging, he turns back towards your open window. “You’ve had your warning, take it or leave it. But when the storm hits, you’re not gonna be my responsibility.” And with that he moves to leave.

The fact that you grew up on Gotham’s streets and lived to tell the tale would not occur to anyone watching this unfold, since your sense of self preservation seems to have taken the day off.

Because you reach for him.

Grab a hold of his wrist and refuse to let go, your mouth working overtime before your brain can catch up. “Now hold on a second, you can’t just—“

He has you disarmed in two seconds flat, your body colliding with the wall next to the bed with a thud and a groan spilling from your lips; your weapon clatters to the ground as he pins your wrist next to your head, his other arm coming up across your throat and pressing down. A few long agonizing seconds of a standstill tick by; wide, scared eyes staring at the unflinching facade of his mask.

And then something shifts.

He lowers his arm letting you breathe again and while he doesn’t let go completely, his iron grip on your wrist lessens and he straightens up, putting some more distance between you both. Almost as if he hadn’t meant to hurt you. Almost like you’d simply startled him and he’d acted on instinct.

You take some trembling breaths to try and collect yourself before you speak again. “Alright, let’s say for a moment that I believe your Good Samaritan act. Why me? Out of all the people in Gotham, why do I get a warning? What makes me so special?” He doesn’t answer right away, like he’s considering if he should at all, but then, “Consider it a courtesy call for old time’s sake.”

You repeat that last part under breath, brain already kicking into overdrive to figure out what on earth he’s talking about. And it’s easy enough to miss, easy enough to write it off as trivial and innocent, the way his fingers shift and his thumb repeatedly brushes over the gold bracelet on your wrist almost fondly. No, you can’t possibly disregard that, not with they way your heart familiarly stutters like it always had when he’d done that. You glance over at the pictures on your nightstand - what you’d found him looking at when you first entered the apartment.

No.

No, no, no, no, no, no.

It can’t be.

After all the time you’d spent searching, all the sleepless nights, all the tears - he can’t just be standing in front you right now.

“Take off the mask…” it’s nothing more than a whisper, but in the quiet of the room it’s still too loud. Too poignant.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t react in any way you’d be able to see, so you repeat yourself, louder this time. No longer asking, but demanding.

“What difference would it make? You won’t know the man underneath anymore.”

“Bullshit,” you hiss, somewhere between utter disbelief and hysteria. “I never forgot about you.”

He scoffs as he lets you go and grabs the picture frame off your bedside table instead, mockingly waving it in front your face. “Clearly. You didn’t forget, but you gave up on me just like the rest of them.”

Tears burn in your eyes while the lump forming in your throat threatens to choke you. “That’s not true, I didn’t—“

“Don’t you dare lie to me!!” he shouts, chucking the frame he’s still holding across the room in a fit of rage and you flinch back from him right as it shatters into dozens of pieces against a wall. “How long did it take you, huh? To write me off as nothing more than a memory? Cherished in theory, because sure that’s easy, but actually trying to find me was just too much work in the long run, wasn’t it!? I just wasn’t worth the effort!”

You don’t answer, simply stare at him with big, hurt eyes, tears now flowing freely down your cheeks and he pretends he doesn’t care. He’s right after all and he knows it and there’s nothing you could possibly say that would—

“The abandoned wing under Arkham. That’s where that monster had you.”

And he just about feels his brain short circuit and his heart stop. He couldn’t have heard you right.

“What?”

He doesn’t even realize he said it out loud, not until you push past him and he just lets you, frozen to the spot, as you throw open the doors to your closet, pushing the clothes aside and pulling on the string that hangs from the ceiling, the single, dim lightbulb slowly flickering to life and giving him a full view of the back wall.

And it’s all right there. Connected with actual, literal red string stretched between case files and pictures.

The explosion at the warehouse where he’d been taken. Dozens of Joker’s old hideouts, all investigated and discarded. And upon closer inspection as he steps forward, photographs of his ‘room’ under Arkham, right beside lab reports proving that the blood found down there was his. There are blurry, staticky pics of a security cam, showing a man with dark hair in the classic orange jumpsuit prisoners received, encountering Deathstroke the night Joker had taken over the asylum. He rips a piece of paper off the wall, dated not more than a month ago, that clearly places the mercenary in Venezuela, heading some form of military operation - and underlined several times, encircled in bright red, the fact that he’s working for someone calling themselves the Arkham Knight.

“I never gave up on you.” he hears you reiterate somewhere behind him, voice shaky and choked up. “I was just… always one step behind.”

The version of you that Crane’s toxin had created wasn’t real; the version of you that had used him and his relationship to Bruce as a stepping stone into higher education and a better life for yourself, while leaving him behind, because he was beneath you now. But the version of you he’d created in his own mind while imprisoned wasn’t real either. The you that had always had the brightest, sharpest mind he’d ever seen, the you that must’ve figured it out even if Batman couldn’t. The you that would walk through those damn doors instead of the clown and come save him, surely. Eventually.

No, the real you he’d found working at the diner that was to be ground zero for Gotham’s downfall; dreams of becoming an architect clearly abandoned. He should’ve stayed away after seeing you there, you were a distraction, a dangerous one, and yet he’d kept going back, always in a corner booth, in the section of one of your coworkers, always with his hood up, making sure you wouldn’t recognize him. And he’d learned plenty about the person you’d become in his absence. Had learned that you still wear the bracelet he stole for you years ago cause he’d caught you longingly looking at it every time you’d passed that shop. Had learned that you still celebrate his birthday, taking his favorite muffins out of the display case at work, telling your coworker that you couldn’t go drinking tonight cause you had a birthday to attend - meanwhile he hadn’t even realized what day it was. He’d learned that the real you had gone little to no contact with Bruce and the rest of the family, if the aggravation and shouting matches whenever one of them showed up at the diner to check on you were anything to go by. The real you rarely went out anymore, always straight home after work, a few exceptions to the rule only to get drunk and hook up with guys that looked like him - at least that’s what Barbara had hurled at you when one of your arguments had gotten too heated, too personal. He’d seen the immediate regret on her face and the hurt on yours, but the damage had been done.

He’d felt a sick sense of satisfaction at the time; knowing that you were willingly letting his memory torture you. That you failed him and now you were stuck with his ghost forever haunting you. Yeah, that had felt good, like poetic justice.

But now?

Now he feels shame rising in the back of his throat like bile, burning and threatening to choke him.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.

After all the time he’d spent convincing himself that you left him, that you just didn’t care enough… you’d given up on living your life trying to save his?

“Jason…” you start, quiet and gentle as not to spook him and he slightly turns his head over his shoulder in your general direction, indicating that he’s listening. “Whatever it is you’re planning to do, you don’t have to—“

“Don’t call me that.” he growls, but there’s no bite to it; his previous anger has dissipated and now, even with the modulator, he just sounds exhausted. Defeated.

“But it’s your name…” you insist and he barks out a laugh, bitter and broken, accompanied by a burst of static from his helmet.

“Jason Todd died in that hole under Arkham, along with Robin. There’s only the Arkham Knight, now.”

A sob forces itself out of your throat wether you like it or not and even though you know it’s a horrible idea, you reach for him again, only to have him recoil from you. Your heart’s been held together by nothing but sheer force of will and spite the past years, but seeing him like this, hearing him talk about himself like he did in fact die even though he’s right there and having to see him back away from your touch like a wounded, cornered animal is too much. Pulling yourself together as much as humanly possible, for his sake more than anything else, you try again.

“Jason, please. Just… stay, alright? Stay here with me and I promise we can fix this.”

“I can fix it!!” he roars, whirling around to face you again and you inadvertently take a step back. “I know now what to do and it doesn’t. Involve. You. Get out of the the city. Or don’t. Either way, I don’t care what happens to you.”

You manage to shake off some of the grief and fear weighing you down, wipe a sleeve over your eyes and stand up a little straighter to stare him down, defiance burning in your eyes. “If that were true, you wouldn’t be here. And I’m not going anywhere without you.” He gazes back at you, unreadable and unflinching, before moving back over to the window. “Suit yourself.”

And then he’s gone. No trace left behind, no way of finding him - and it all feels so much like back then, you feel your knees give out beneath you. Your back makes contact with the wall, sliding down until you’re sat on the carpeted floor of your bedroom, knees pulled up to your chest and letting yourself sob and scream at the top of your lungs as your heart finally shatters in your chest.

You don’t get much sleep that night. Or the night after that. Or any night until Halloween finally rolls around some weeks later and Scarecrow unleashes hell upon the city. True to your word, you didn’t leave, but you’re not stupid enough to completely ignore a warning, either. You’d reinforced all entry points to your apartment as best as you could and had stocked up on supplies - none of which would do you any good if the fear gas managed to creep in somewhere. Granted, there’d been no reports of any major attacks in your general area, but you’d rather be safe than sorry. You’d only ever heard stories about the things Jonathan Crane’s toxin made people see and do and you have absolutely no interest in experiencing it first hand. So now there’s a flashlight tucked between your teeth, because of course the power in your building had gone out hours ago, focused on shoving towels and old shirts into any cracks you can find and simply consider yourself lucky that with all the riots and looters running amok, this is your only possible problem.

And then there’s a crash from your bedroom, clearly the sound of a window shattering, followed by a heavy thud of something - or someone - hitting the floor. Adrenaline kicks in and you immediately grab the gun from the back of your pants and sneak towards the noise. Whoever it is isn’t bothering to even try and be quiet or conceal their presence; you can hear shuffling, the crunch of glass under the person’s weight and—

Are… are those sobs?

With quiet steps, you creep around the last corner to peak into your bedroom and sure enough, there’s a person on the floor, back against the foot of your bed and crying loud enough for you to clearly hear. You’ve still got your gun raised when the neon sign on the store across the street flickers back to life, bathing your room in red and blue for only a moment, before it dies again like it has been doing all night, but it’s enough - enough for you to recognize the armor and at first you’re certain Crane’s toxin got to you after all.

One. Two. Three deep breaths is how long it takes for your feet to finally unstick from the floor and slowly, carefully, carry you forward, terrified that he’ll vanish into thin air again or turn into something worse if you get too close. A quiet call of his name, maybe too quiet, because he doesn’t react, simply continues to weep, head in his hands, only interrupted by his own incoherent mumbling. You try again, a little louder this time, but are met with the same result. You don’t want to risk touching him, not after what happened last time, but you have to do something.

“Breathe… I-I can’t… Can’t breathe…” he stutters out and next thing you know he yanks off his helmet to carelessly toss it aside and it comes to a rolling stop at the tip of your boot; cracked, broken static flickering up at you against a glowing, faceless red. “Didn’t… d-didn’t know where else to go…” It makes your head snap back up because that? Yeah, maybe you can work with that.

“Okay… you didn’t know where to go but here. Do you… do you know where here is? Do you know where you are? Jason?”

He doesn’t answer right away and you start to feel sweat beading at the back of your neck in anxiety and concern, because while you want to help, of course you do, you truly have no idea what you’re doing. If maybe you’re just making things worse. And against the backdrop of screams and gun shots and manic laughter that now filters in from the streets freely through your broken window his answer is so quiet, you almost miss it. “Your apartment…” You nod in encouragement, even though he’s not even looking at you; head hung low, hands fisted in his hair. “Yeah, that’s right. Do you know how you got here? Where you were, what you were doing before?”

He dissolves into quiet mumbling again, yet you can clearly make out the word ‘Failed…’ over and over again. When carefully questioned, he admits to having failed what he set out to do tonight: to kill the Bat. To kill Bruce. “He did this to me and I couldn’t even— I couldn’t—“ You watch him beat his fists against his skull in frustration and anger and only barely resist the urge to grab a hold of them and stop him from hurting himself, lest you accidentally, unintentionally cause more harm. Thankfully it doesn’t last, gloved fingers instead threading through his hair again, anxiously tugging at the dark strands and you recognize it as a nervous habit he’s always had. Despite the circumstances, it’s what makes you breathe a little easier, lessens the fears and feeling of helplessness, because this is still Jason. Your Jason, who you’ve calmed down and talked out of fits of rage and self deprecating rants a hundred times over - you can do this.

“You’re right, you did fail.” you start and watch him go completely still at your words, almost as if in shock and you’d hate for him to get the wrong idea of where you’re going with this, so you quickly continue speaking. “Failed to be what that monster tried to turn you into and god I hope his pasty faced ashes are rotating in his fucking grave. And I know it’s not fair, shit, it’s not fair that he ruined you just to spite the Bat, but in the end you didn’t let him make you his weapon, his final laugh. You gave him one last middle finger even though the asshole’s already dead and fuck if that isn’t the most Jason Todd thing to do, I dunno what is.” You chuckle quietly, sniffing as you wipe a sleeve over your eyes. “Proves to me that the boy I grew up with is still in there. A little different, a little bruised, a little bit broken, sure - but he’s still here and he’s certainly not beyond repair.”

Another sob racks his whole body and while you can’t pinpoint it as a good or bad sign, you decide to push this angle, distract from the events of tonight and focus on something else instead, so you go to grab something off your nightstand and carefully kneel down in front of him as close as you dare, broken glass shards everywhere be damned. “I don’t wanna talk about them, though, I don’t care about either of the two, I care about you. Could you take a look at this and tell me what you remember about it?”

The picture you slide over to him has seen better days for sure, wrinkles and slight tears at the edges, made worse when he’d smashed the frame it had been in not too long ago. And despite your doubts, despite the way he flinches when you slowly slide the paper over to him like it’s gonna eat him alive, he picks it up with shaky fingers.

Jason half expects the picture to be an exact copy of the last one that had been shoved in his face: Batman with his new Robin. Instead, he finds himself staring back him, younger, without all the scars, a spark in his eyes and an easy grin on his lips. The sight alone is enough to make the scar on his face burn like it had that first day and if not for the other person in the photograph, he probably would’ve torn it to pieces right here and now. All bright eyes and happy smile, you radiate joy - as someone should on their birthday. And you’d made the best of it, as good as two Gotham street rats could make a birthday: you’d stolen some six packs and cupcakes from a corner store, had gotten drunk on a rooftop somewhere. He remembers how he’d barely stopped you from toppling off the edge while making fun of Bruce Wayne and proclaiming that your name would be on the biggest building in this city one day. How kissing you for the first time had felt. He remembers it all, surprisingly clearly, too, but that’s all it is: a memory. The people in that picture no longer exist, after all. He had taken all the pain and the blackness the Joker instilled in him and had reforged himself, into something different. Something horrible. And unwittingly, he’d dragged you down into the abyss right along side him. You’ve become a broken shell, a shadow, of the quick-witted, ambitious person you used to be - and it’s all his fault. All your energy and time and resources, you’d wasted them on him in the last few years instead of building a better life for yourself, like you should’ve. Growing up on Gotham’s streets, never knowing where your next meal or shelter was gonna come from, being threatened, beaten and left on a street corner to bleed out - none of that had ever managed to break you. Out of all the hardships in your life, he’d been the one to to finally break you, make you lose yourself. You would’ve been better off if you’d never met him.

“Jason?”

It’s soft and careful and concerned and it makes him wanna throw up because he doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve you treating him kindly after what he put you through.

“I just… I just wanna help. Please let me help you.”

‘Jason, I can help you!’

‘There’s no helping me!’

He flinches at the memory, at the desperation and grief he’d seen even through the mask and curls into himself even further. He doesn’t wanna see the same look on your face. Doesn’t wanna see it morph into disappointment when you realize that there is no helping the boy you still have your heart set on saving - that Bruce had wanted to save - because he’s long dead.

“Jason, I… I know I failed you and you have every right to be angry, but please just… just gimme a chance.”

What a joke. He’s the only failure here. He’d worked towards one thing and one thing only for the past years and when it had come down to it, he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t bring himself to kill the Bat. And that’s not even the worst of it, because he’d failed you, too. Had stolen years of your life without even knowing, with no way of ever giving them back to you. The best thing, the only thing, he could do for you now is to leave you be. To get out of your life for good and never look back. To finally set you free from the curse his existence had put on you. And maybe, just maybe, he could still do something for Bruce, too.

He staggers to his feet, reaching for his helmet with shaky hands while he does, refusing to lift his head to look at you until it’s securely back in place, the crack vanishing from its’ surface with a few practiced pushes of a button on the side. “I should go. I never should’ve come here in the first place.” It makes you push up from the floor so fast, you feel a glass shard slice your palm open in your hurry, yet it doesn’t truly register. Not when the cold dread that runs down your spine at his words stings so much worse. “Wait, wait, no, absolutely not. You’re not in any state to be going out there on your own, don’t—“

“Scarecrow isn’t done.” he interrupts, “This is all my fault, I’ve gotta— If I don’t do something, he’s going to— I have to go.” His voice is steady, calm, sure of himself and it gives you pause. His entire demeanor seems to have changed, compared to when you first found him. More present, put together. It lessens the horror of having to think about him just vanishing again, if only the slightest bit. You’re chewing on the inside of your cheek anxiously, looking him up and down, trying to assess wether or not you can let him leave in good conscience. His helmet gives off a slight glow, red and ominous, and not for the first time you find yourself wishing you could see his face. To be able to read him easier - to be able to ensure yourself that this is real. Swallowing thickly around all the protests and fears rising in your throat, you cross your arms over your chest and dig your nails into your arms so hard it stings as you shrug. “It’s not like I’m going to keep you here against your will, Jason. If you want to leave, you’re free to.”

Right. Right, you couldn’t, even if you tried - not that you ever would. You’re not… him and Jason’s not a prisoner here, he has to remind himself. He came here of his own accord because… because some part of him, however small, still knows he’s safe here. Because he’s with you. It’s not something he’s had or felt in a long time and it makes leaving so much harder, because he knows he won’t be coming back. He already has one leg up on your windowsill, halfway out onto the fire escape when you call out to him again.

“Could you… can you please come back? When it’s over? You don’t have to stay, just so I’ll know you’re alright?” Your eyes keep flicking over to your closet, its’ doors wide open and your investigations on full display.

He takes a long, yearning glance at the picture he’s still holding onto.

He should. He owes you some form of peace of mind, if nothing else. But he’s not sure he’d be able to bring himself to leave you again if he does. So he’ll stay away, for your sake. Maybe, if he’s lucky, you’ll end up hating him for it. You should.

“Yeah, yeah, I… I’ll come back.”

And even with the helmets’ modulator, even with the time you’ve spent apart, even accounting for the fact that he’s definitely not quite the same person you grew up with, you know he’s lying.

For the sake of your sanity, you internally convince yourself he’s not.

But he’s not back by the time you can hear the sirens of the GCPD echo through the streets, rolling out to retake their city. He’s not back by the time the power in your building flickers back to life, just in time for you to watch Wayne Manor go up in flames on the news. And he’s not back by the time the sun slowly starts to creep up over the city’s skyline, blocked out by clouds and smoke and drenching everything in a dull, gray light. Fitting, after the night Gotham’s had, you suppose. After the night you’ve had. You busy yourself with haphazardly patching up the wound on your hand and then getting your apartment back to its’ original state; granted, maybe a tad too early considering the city’s still in a state of chaos, but you need something to keep you occupied, to keep your mind from wandering. You don’t want to think about having to keep up that god forsaken evidence board in your closet. About more weeks and months and years of searching. About lying awake night after night, not knowing wether he’s dead or alive - or worse. You’re oh so tired of the vicious cycle you’ve trapped yourself in, yet you’re not sure you have the strength to break it.

The sound of glass crunching underfoot coming from your bedroom rips you out of your thoughts and had you been thinking a bit more clearly, you would’ve grabbed your gun off the couch table before going to investigate. But your mind’s a jumbled, frantic mess and so you rush over immediately, loud and entirely unprepared should it be anyone else but who you’re hoping, praying, for.

No armor this time, but sneakers, jeans and a red hoodie. You recognize his frame anyways: the way his shoulders seem permanently hunched over, the way he still hides his face from view, this time under the brim of a baseball cap, peeking out from under the hood of his sweater. He’s standing in the mess of broken glass from last night, gaze fixed on your open closet. Your breathing’s shallow and quick as you approach slowly, terrified that he’ll bolt again if you startle him, meanwhile your heart hammers against your ribs painfully, like it’s trying to claw its’ way out of your chest to get to him. You stop by his side, keeping a mindful distance between you, and even though you want to see him more than anything else, you refrain from from trying to get a look at his face. He’s been doing nothing but hide since that first night he came to see you again weeks ago and you’re not about to force him out; you’d only be pushing him further away. Instead, you keep your gaze locked forward, distracting yourself with following the red string with your eyes, like you don’t know the pattern it creates by heart at this point.

“You really never stopped searching… Never gave up…”

It’s quiet, almost reverent - like he still can’t believe it, even though the proof is right there in front of him. And you can feel the sting of tears behind your eyes before you know it; no modulator to make him sound like a different man, a monster. No sobs racking his entire body, turning his voice hoarse and frantic. Just Jason. Exhausted and broken, but still Jason. Your Jason. Who sounds like he can’t fathom the idea of you caring enough, loving him enough, to dedicate your life to bringing him home. It’s that last thought that makes the tears fall and that forces a bitter, self deprecating scoff out of your throat.

“For all the good it did you…” you rasp, running a hand through your hair as you take a few steps forward to rest your forehead against the back wall of your closet. “I tried, but I was… always just one step behind. Never quite smart enough, never quite fast enough; no matter what I did it was just never enough!” Your voice rises in pitch and volume despite your best efforts to keep calm, a fist colliding with the wall hard enough to send some papers fluttering to the ground.

Even in the dim, sparse, natural light bleeding into the room through the blinds, Jason can see the dried blood on the wall now, the scratches in the wood clearly created by fingernails. He can almost see you now, standing right where you are now, literally clawing at the walls in desperation and defeat, nails a broken and bloody mess, like you’d find the answers right behind those old wooden boards if you just managed to dig deep enough. He feels his fingers twitch, like they’re itching to reach out and take yours, to make sure you can’t hurt yourself again. Especially not for his sake. The impulse is there, but he doesn’t follow through, instead opting to run a finger along the picture he took earlier that night, now safely tucked away in his hoodie pocket. Fuck, he shouldn’t even be here. He’d promised himself to let you have your life back, and yet here he stands, selfish bastard that he is. He could pretend he’s only here to let you know he’s alright; that he can look after himself, he’s no longer your responsibility, he never should’ve been in the first place, and that you can move on with your life with a clear conscience - but that would be a lie. Cause when the sun had come up, shedding first light on the carnage and chaos and despair he’d created, all he’d wanted to do was hide. Hide from what he’d done, from what he’d become and his first thought had been to go to you. Because with you he’s safe, even from himself and the demons constantly clawing at the edges of his mind and he can’t… he doesn’t want to lose that, not again.

“I know I wasn’t there when you would’ve needed me most and I’ll never forgive myself for that, but I’m still so, so sorry Jason. I know saying that isn’t gonna help fix anything, but I… I dunno. Still felt I had to say it.”

You receive no answer, not that you expect one, because what is he supposed to say? ‘It’s fine’? It’s not, you know it isn’t and no amount of apologizing is gonna make it alright. You half expect him to just leave, maybe he’ll already be gone when you turn back around. He’d come back to show you he’s still alive, that’s all you’d asked for - he doesn’t owe you anything else, after all.

“You’re here now.”

He doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t say it - can’t or won’t, you’re not sure - but you understand anyways. Understand the unspoken words hanging between you.

I need you now.

You turn and approach him and slowly, carefully, as not to spook him and also to give you some more time to think about what to say. The second he hears you step closer, he pulls the brim of his hat down further and angles his face away from you and it sends a painful sting right to your heart. Coming to a halt about a foot in front of him, you gently and quietly ask if you can see his face. When he doesn’t react, you continue with how much you’ve missed him, that you’d like nothing more than to finally see him again, but that he doesn’t have to if he doesn’t want to; it’s his choice and you won’t force him. You hesitate and ultimately decide against telling him that you know. That you’ve seen the tapes the clown had kept sending; watched them over and over until you’d thrown up, until you’d grown almost numb to the senseless torture and suffering. You’d had to; if you’d missed even the tiniest clue, the slimmest chance of finding him, just because you couldn’t stomach the blood and screams, you wouldn’t have been able to look him in the eye again once you’d found him. But all the horrible wounds that will undoubtedly have left nasty, ugly scars by now? You couldn’t care less, but he clearly believes you would.

The quiet between you isn’t awkward or oppressive, instead calm and welcome, and you’re being so patient and reassuring, he eventually caves. Pushes the hood back and takes off the cap with a sigh, carelessly dropping it to the ground, before anxiously running a hand through his black hair as he finally brings his eyes to yours. A whole range of emotions flashes across your face, all there and gone before he can identify any of them, but he most definitely didn’t expect for you to settle on simple relief and affection, a soft smile and eyes glossy with tears. “There you are, beautiful. Finally back home with me, finally mine again.”

‘He’s mine. Mine, mine, mine. To do with as I wish.’

He doesn’t mean to, but it’s pure instinct, the way he flinches away from you, from your words, because he expects another shotgun shell to the chest to follow. When he manages to will himself to look at you again, he almost bolts right out your broken window, because you look so lost. So hurt. And of course it’s his fault again.

“I-I’m sorry, Jay, I didn’t know— I didn’t mean to—“

“‘S not your fault…” he croaks, throat tight and mouth dry.

Meanwhile you feel like bashing your fists against a wall in frustration over and over and over again, until your knuckles are sore and bleeding like you’ve done so many times while searching for him, because maybe then you’ll be able to understand a fraction of the pain and suffering he’s had to endure. He’s right here; you finally have him back and yet you still have no clue what to do, how to help.

Pathetic.

Useless.

He’d be better off without you.

The same voices that have been taunting you for years rear their ugly heads again, but one look at the man in front of you is enough to ultimately find the strength to tell them to go shut the fuck up. This isn’t about you.

“Will you be okay if I touch you right now…?” you ask, deciding to throw caution to the wind.

He immediately shakes his head. “I… I dunno…”

So you rephrase your question. “Can I touch you?”

This time it takes him longer to answer, hesitation and uncertainty radiating off of him in waves, yet you can heave a sigh of relief when he slowly nods. Carefully, gently you reach up to cup his cheek and try as you might you can’t seem to get your fingers to stop shaking. The touch is feather light, barely even there and while he doesn’t back away, every muscle in his body goes tense and he screws his eyes shut, instinctively prepared for more pain and it forces you to harshly swallow around the lump that forms in your throat at the sight before you speak again.

“It’s just me, Jay. The same annoying, clingy little shit that latched on to you when we were kids that you haven’t been able to get rid off since. I’m not gonna hurt you and I’ll be damned if I ever let anyone lay a hand on you again.” Your voice is firm, steady, the shaking in your hands has ceased and while he hasn’t opened his eyes, he seems to have calmed down and it encourages you to be bolder; to bring your other hand to his face as well, gently thumbing over the ‘J’ branded into his skin. “You’re safe here. You’re home.”

Home.

Someplace warm. Someplace safe.

Someplace where he’s needed. Someplace where he’s loved.

It’s like something shifts, breaks; his entire body goes slack, all but lurching forward into your hold and you almost stumble backward from the sheer unexpected weight of him, but you manage to catch yourself, catch him, quickly adjusting your hold on him, one hand drawing soothing patterns into the small of his back, the other buried in his hair at the nape of his neck as his own arms wind around you and squeeze tight enough to hurt and steal the breath from your lungs, like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t cling to you like a lifeline, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You simply hold him tight, listening to his breaths go from shallow and trembling to deep and calm, feeling hot, wet tears soaking the fabric of your shirt over your collar bone.

“I can stay…?” he rasps, your heart cracking at his tone, quiet and uncertain, poised for rejection. “Of course, as long as you need - or want.”

He swallows thickly. “I’m gonna be nothing but work.” You choke out a sound somewhere between a snort and a chuckle, turning your face to nuzzle into his hair. “What, like you’ve ever been anything else? Please, I’m perfectly capable of handling you, my love.” Gently teasing, like you used to, yet you feel him tense up again at the nickname. “I’m… I’m not the same person you knew, the man you loved…” A deep inhale as you pull back to look at him again, one hand to his chest to feel for his steady, if slightly elevated, heartbeat, the other back to his scarred cheek and you feel your heart soar in happiness when you see him lean into your touch, eyes closed, because for once he doesn’t have to watch his back constantly, not with you right here. “I know that. All I’m asking for is the chance to get to know you again.” Long lashes flutter against his cheeks as he blinks his baby blues open, glossed over with unshed tears, accompanied by a barely there huff of a laugh, nothing more than an exhale through his nose. “I don’t even know who I am anymore…”

“We can figure it out together.” Voice firm and filled with resolve while you pull back to put some distance between you two; you could feel him start to tremble under your touch and you’re unsure if you’re grounding or overwhelming him. You simply don’t know what he needs right now, or at all, but you’d learn again. Until then, you’d leave the choice wether or not to reach out, to accept touch and support, up to him. With that in mind, you offer a hand to him, earning a confused gaze flicking between your eyes and your outstretched hand. “Ya know what? It’s been… a night. How about we talk about everything else over breakfast? You hungry?”

It’s such a normal, downright domestic question, and it feels so utterly surreal Jason almost laughs. He takes a few more very long seconds to mull it over, not that he’s in any state to make any truly rational, well thought out decisions currently. Not when you’re right here, smiling at him like you used to, eyes soft, but pleading. Then he drops the duffel bag with the Knights’ gear to the floor with a sigh and kicks it into your closet, reaching for your hand right after and you immediately weave your fingers through his happily. It’s stupid, downright ridiculous, he thinks, that despite his own fingers being scarred and permanently crooked and bent in odd ways from being broken one too many times, they still fit into yours perfectly.

“I don’t think you’re gonna find any place up and running to deliver breakfast right now; not even Gotham recovers that quick.” he states. The light and conversational tone is foreign and awkward to him, he feels like an imposter, a monster only playing house, but the smug smile that is so very you he’s rewarded with quiets the harsh voices in his mind to an annoying, but ignorable whisper. “I was gonna make us something, smartass.”

“I didn’t survive this long just for your cooking to be what does me in, you know.”

You blink at him owlishly, once, twice, three times.

He just cracked wise. Like he always had with you. And yeah, the smile on his face is barely even there, just the slightest upturn of the corners of his mouth, not to mention it doesn’t reach his eyes, but he’s trying. For you. It feels like the first glimpse at the real man behind all the pain and rage and arrogance he put up as a front to parade around with and it’s such a relief, a laugh bubbles out of your throat before you can stop it, which immediately puts you back on guard, your body winding like a spring in anticipation and worry - you’re certain he’s heard enough laughter to last him a lifetime. If he’s bothered by it though, he doesn’t show it, only squeezes your hand a little tighter in reassurance, for himself or you, you’ll never know.

Unbeknownst to you, it’s the first laugh in years that he in fact doesn’t mind. The urge to cower, to bolt, to hide is there at first yes, but it ebbs away, because your laugh is different. Soothing, not haunting. He still knows it, remembers it, and it was never accompanied by anything but joy - it wouldn’t be any different now. After all, he’s safe with you. He’s home.

“I’ll have you know that I got better at cooking, you asshole. I uh… I asked Alfred to teach me some things. Wasn’t particularly gifted, but I can whip up some mean scrambled eggs and a decent banana bread by now.” You feel your heart skip an actual beat when his smile grows just the tiniest bit at your defiant teasing. “Right. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Well, come on then.” you state with an eye roll, your own smile firmly in place as you slowly, gently tug him from the room, him following oh so willingly, the Arkham Knight along with your hunt for Robins’ ghost left forgotten in the back of your closet.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #arkham knight x reader #angst #hurt/comfort #jason todd #red hood #arkham knight #arkhamverse #dc #dc comics #batfamily

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auto2mation1 · 2 months ago

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entitled-fangirl · 1 year ago

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His perfect little Cyar'ika.

Din D'jarin x reader

Summary: Mando had been gone too long, leaving the reader to worry. She has a breakdown, and he comes back in time to comfort her.

Words: 1,634

Warnings: Makeout session, sad thoughts, lots of crying (mostly from me, but the reader too, ig)

Author's note: This is now my all-time favorite one I've written and I stand by that.

Masterlist

.........................................................

It had been days.

Days since her Mandalorian had left on a hunt. She had patiently waited the four days he reassured her it’d be. Here she was on Day 6, anxiously awaiting his return.

The sound of the child brought her from her thoughts.

She walked to the cot, picking him up. He was a sweet thing, his large eyes always looking at her in love. She was head over heels for this little guy. The day he would be returned to his kind would be the day she is ruined.

She walked with him for a bit until his breathing calmed, signaling he had fallen asleep. She gently set him down in his cot again, admiring his sleeping form.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there. She’s brought out from her thoughts again by the feeling of a tear running down her face. She’s crying, and she hadn’t even realized it.

She walks away from the child’s sleeping area, not wanting to wake him. The door shuts behind her, but that’s as far as she makes it. She collapses on the hard metal floor of the ship, a loud sob leaving her lips.

She felt vulnerable. Alone. Scared. Anxious. Above all else, she just wanted her Mandalorian to return. She pulled her legs up to her chest and rested her forehead against them, letting the sobs comes out freely.

Mando was an unusual man… if he was a man. She wasn’t sure what he was, but she knew he was strong and courageous. He had shown that time and time again. His heart, while shown as one of stone, was actually quite vulnerable and caring. She loved that about him. She loved his voice. She loved his mannerisms. She loved HIM.

She doesn’t hear the bay doors open to the ship. And she doesn’t hear Mando step up them. What she does hear is a soft, “Mesh’la?” His voice coming through the modulator.

Her head snaps up in fear and surprise. She’s ecstatic to see her Mando, but beyond that, embarrassed to be caught crying so harshly. She quickly stands, her hand wiping at her face. “I’m sorry, Mando. I’ll go get cleaned up,” she says, her voice broken by the hiccuping of her diaphragm.

She takes four steps before his gloved hand grabs her wrist.

“No.”

She turns her body around to look at him. No? What did he mean?

Mando wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he knew it felt right. His heart dropped at the sight of her body racked with her sobs. He worried about how long she had been like this. Her glossy eyes brought a dreaded feeling in his stomach he hadn’t felt before. But even then, her eyes puffy and red, her face covered in tears, she was still beautiful to him. She always had been. He wished he could rip his helmet off every day just to see her sweet features without the filter. Comfort wasn’t his strong suit, but he’d have to make do now.

A silence ensues as they stare at each other.

He’s the first to break. “Sit.”

It’s not a question. If it was a question, he’d have asked it differently. No, this is a command. She knows him well enough to know he only commands when they’re in danger, or he’s scared. But she also knows not to ignore his commands, so she does so, moving her body to sit on a nearby crate.

He follows her, kneeling in front of her. “Mesh’la,” his voice comes through the helmet, “What has happened?”

She shakes her head, embarrassed to admit her faults. Her hands wipe at her face again, trying to keep her composure.

He heaves a sigh, barely heard by her. “Tell me.”

Another command. “I… it’s… it’s nothing. I was being childish… and… it… I’m sorry…” A soft sob raked through her body, as hard as she had tried to fight it.

His hand comes up to rest on her leg, a silent sign of comfort from him, but also a sign to continue.

This makes her weep, letting out all of the feelings she was trying to bottle up. “You... you left… and I was… I tried… you didn’t come back and I… worried… I was so worried…,” each sentence stopped by a hiccup.

If only she could see the smile under his mask. “Mesh’la, you worried for me?”

The tears didn’t stop, and it didn’t seem that they would be stopping anytime soon. He did what his head told him to, as ridiculous as it sounded. But she needed something to ground her, and fast.

He pulled a glove off of his hand and took her hand in his, rubbing the top of her hand gently.

She stared in disbelief at him. “The... your… your code…?”

He said nothing, still rubbing small circles on her hand.

He thought it would help, but it didn’t seem to because she continued to cry. His mind went into overdrive.

He pulled her from the crate gently and into his lap. His arms wrapped around her shaking frame as he pushed her gently into his armor.

She gladly accepted, resting her head in the crook of his neck between two plates of beskar.

He closes his eyes at the feeling. Only a piece of fabric separates her skin from touching his. Never in his life had he considered breaking the code. But if keeping it meant a life without her, then by god would he break it.

His ungloved hand ran through her hair before his calm voice came back, “close your eyes.”

She lifted her head up. “..w…what?” She sniffled.

His gloved hand touched her cheek. “Close your eyes, Mesh’la. Trust me.”

She does so without another word. She was a sweet thing. He was so corrupt. He worried he may ruin her. But he couldn’t worry about that now.

He checked to make sure her eyes were closed before both of his hands reached up, taking off his helmet carefully.

More tears escaped from her closed eyes, but she heard the sound, and she knew what he was doing. “Mando?”

A soft kiss is pressed to her neck.

“Din.”

A sharp breath from her, “What?”

She feels his smile against her neck. “Din. I’m not Mando to you anymore. Not ever again.” His lips move up her neck towards her jaw, placing a light kiss there.

She lets out a soft breath, relaxing in his touch. His scruff lightly scratched at her as his lips trailed to her face. He pulled back suddenly, his touch gone. She longed to open her eyes, but she knew better.

He simply stared at her beautiful face. God, was she a beauty. He stared at her enough with the helmet but now? He never wanted to put it on again. He wondered if her eyes were as bright as he imagined. She was perfect. His perfect little Cyar’ika.

She sat still, focusing on her breathing. Staring at the back of her eyelids was never really a difficult prompt until she was put into this situation. She didn’t know what he was thinking, and she couldn’t see his face to know. She couldn’t even look at his body language. She was completely blind and it worried her.

Perhaps he was regretting what he was doing. Maybe he was thinking about what planet he should leave her on now that she’s caught feelings. But the silence in the room was killing her.

He was in heaven. If heaven was real, this was it for him. Her beautiful face her in front of him, seeking his comfort. Worried for him. God, she was worried for him. No one had ever said such words, and his heart was overjoyed when they were muttered.

She broke the silence, her voice soft and worried, “D…Din?”

He couldn’t take it anymore. His ungloved hand moved to the back of her head quickly, pulling her in for a kiss. The other hand rested on her hip.

She jumped at the feeling, his facial hair tickling her face. It took a few moments to register what was happening before she began to kiss him back.

She wanted to run her fingers through his hair. Pull at it. Rest her hands on his face. But she didn’t. She wouldn’t overstep his boundaries.

God, he wanted her to overstep all his boundaries. His other hand moved to one of hers, pulling it up his torso to his face.

It’s like he could read the girl’s mind. The one hand resting on his cheek, feeling the scruff there, while the other found its way to the base of his neck, pulling at the soft curls that lay there.

He groaned. He had never had this feeling before. She was perfect, so perfect. He would let her ruin him any day.

She was the first to pull away, out of breath. She panted, her eyes still closed, her lips puffy and face slightly red.

He was smiling brighter than the sun.

“Thank you, Cyar’ika.”

She let out a soft groan. His voice was so beautiful. It’s as if he had hung the moon for her. “For what, Din?”

She could hear the smile in his voice for the first time ever, “I’m not quite sure.”

The sound of the child crying brought them both to reality. He let out a content sigh, reaching for his helmet.

He couldn’t wait to take it off again.

#the mandolorian #star wars fandom #star wars fanfiction #mandolarian fanfiction #mando x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x you #mando #mandalorian imagine #din djarin imagine #star wars imagine #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian imagine

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darkfemininenergy · 2 years ago

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LET’S PLAY THAT GAME ━ ethan landry

pairing: gf!ethan x fem!reader

warning: smut, ghostface phone call, dom!ethan, sub!reader, fingering, rough sex, choking, ropes, spit kink, fingers sucking, dirty talk, gloves kink.

author’s note: english is not my first language, and also my first time writing smut so i hope it’ll be good. if you have any request, let me know !

YOU’D COME HOME from the gym an hour ago, the only classes you had were this morning and you were grateful to have the whole afternoon off for once. you'd had lunch with mindy at noon and then decided to take her home, since the ghostface attacks had hit new york, following the 4 survivors of woodsboro, you didn't want the young meeks martin to go home alone, even in the middle of the day, who knows what might happen, especially when you knew who her uncle was.

now you were in your kitchen after a nice shower, in the background as sound of « how to get away with murder », one of your favorite tv shows, mindy found it quite ironic since you were in a law major.

you were cooking dinner quietly after a bit of studying, standing in front of the hob, dressed in a short, tight-fitting black top and gray shorts, your phone at your side as you wrote to the young meeks martin, who was confiding in you about her feelings for anika.

and that's when your phone began to vibrate, thinking it was mindy, a slight smile appeared on your lips before you grabbed your phone, but this smile slowly disappeared in your face due to what appeared on your screen: unkown caller.

a bad feeling began to take hold of you as, paranoid as you were, you looked around you at the knives just inches from you, spotting the largest of them.

you then answered the phone, adrenalin coursing through your body.

- hello ?

the sound of the oil against the frying pan camouflaged the sound of your series in the living room, as you added spices, waiting for an answer from your interlocutor, the wait was heavy.

- hello, y/n, replied the deep, gravelly, modulated voice.

ghostface.

a shiver ran down your spine, and your body froze, paralyzed as you realized the obvious: you were part of the group of friends of the survivors of the 2022 attacks.

you turned off the gas, stopped cooking. And clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

- well, go ahead, i’m wainting for the “what's your favorite scary movie ?” part.

you tried not to show any signs of fear, but inside you were terrified, imagining yourself already dead on your kitchen floor, but you knew you didn't have time to think about it and passed your index finger between the various knives on the rack in front of you, leaning slightly over the worktop.

the only response you got was a little laugh of amusement, mixed with a hint of sadism, from the killer, and it made your blood run cold.

- you're a bold one, aren't you? now, i think that i'm really going to enjoy this.

- fuck you.

-but you're also a very pretty one... he said with a seductive tone, too bad that i have to correct that filthy mouth of yours, he finished with a voice full of brutality, as if your insult had made him angry.

his change of mood startled you, and you immediately straightened up, then nervously tapped the surface of your kitchen with your freshly manicured nails.

- what do you want ? you asked, trying not to show how scared your voice sounded.

he hums slowly, as if he's thinking, and you can feel the goosebumps on your skin.

- that's a good question... what do i want... ? i want to play a game.

your heart was starting to race, so without thinking any further, you grabbed the largest knife and suddenly turned around with dynamism, all your senses now activated.

- do you want to play a game, y/n ? the modulated voice asked you.

- go to hell, i’m not going to play any of your sick game, you replied brutally.

- you look cute with that knife, tell me, what are you going to do with it, sweetheart ? stab me ? he teased.

you could practically hear the smirk in his voice and it drived you insane as well as the pet name, your grip on your knife was starting to tighten.

- where are you, asshole ? you spat hatefully.

you started to look from left to right, if anyone else could see you through your window, they'd think you were crazy to get so agitated, you leaned over to look towards the right exit which led to the hallway of your apartment, before returning to the kitchen which overlooked your living room.

you put your phone on the worktop behind your hob not far from your fridge, and activated the speakerphone to leave the call and type in the police number before he even answered.

- oh i wouldn't try to call the police if i were you, y/n, it'd be a real shame for mindy and anika to pay the consequences of your stupid actions.

your fingers stopped typing on your screen, not only because of the threat, but also because a detail had caught your attention, how did he know i was going to call the police ?

- h-how.... you began before cutting yourself off, can you see me?

he was sniggering again, and you were really beginning to hate that horribly creepy sound. you swallowed that awful lump in your throat that prevented you from speaking properly and waited for an answer.

- of course i can see you. i must admit that you look good in those, a little bit short though, does your boyfriend know you carry around in your apartment like that, y/n ?

panic-stricken, you hung up, and what a grave mistake you'd made, dropping your phone onto the wooden surface, you clutched the edge of it as if your body were threatening to collapse and you were looking for something to lean on. but then you pulled yourself together and grabbed your phone, never letting go of the knife you'd armed yourself with.

you moved towards the large window in your living room and pulled back the curtain slightly to see if anyone was outside watching you, since your kitchen was connected to the living room and, above all, open, with no door separating them.

but you couldn't see anything suspicious, only the horrible traffic jams of the city that never sleeps and people minding their own business down your street. you weren't the least bit reassured, certainly not, you had no idea where he could see you and you were terrified of it.

then you let out a groan of surprise when your phone started vibrating in your hand again, except this time it wasn't a call but a notification from an unknown number, it was a video.

your hands began to shake as you huffed and puffed to regain your composure, naively hoping to regain an ounce of control over the situation. once you'd opened your phone and clicked on the video, you saw mindy and anika on it, kissing on a sofa, the video had been taken from outside through your window and you pursed your lower lip, anxious, but starting to get angry that ghostface wasn't just threatening you, but also your friends, after everything mindy already endured because of that stupid mask.

and then, another call, again. you stared at your screen for a few seconds, looked around your living room and swallowed, grabbed your tv remote to turn it off, a silence falling over every room in the apartment when you finally accepted the call as you peered into every corner of the room, your stomach burning with fear.

- hang up again and i'll rip their heads off and send them in a box at your door ! shouted the killer menacingly and violently.

the violence of his threat burned your eyes, but you were able to swallow back your tears. you were sure he could feel your panic through the phone.

- not them, don't hurt them, s-stop it, i’ll do anything, i-i promise, you cried, afraid that something might happen to your friends.

- good girl, you see how easy things are going when you start obeying ? his voice softened, but you could still hear the amusement in it that told you he loved what was happening, that he loved scaring you.

despite the fear, the nickname he'd used triggered a reaction you'd never have suspected: a wave of heat spread through your body, even between your legs, and you suddenly felt ashamed.

- now, let's play that game. have you ever heard of hot and cold ?

you simply nodded, tucking a lock of hair behind your ears, knife still sharp in hand.

- words, pretty girl.

another heat wave.

- y-yeah, yes, i have.

- perfect. you want to know where i am, right ? then come and find me. go on.

you frowned, apprehensive about the objective behind this game, especially apprehensive about the moment when you were going to meet him.

- and then, if i find you, what will happen ?

- find me and you'll see, answered mischievously ghostface.

a new silence, neither of you speaking, the silence was heavy for you. you took two steps forward, and turned to look behind you again, the fact of not knowing where he was disturbed you and increased your degree of fear.

- are you scared, sweet thing ? he continued to mock, knowing he had the upper hand.

- shut the fuck up motherfucker, you're gonna pay for all of this, you grumbled in between.

- oh, really? i’m waiting then, he sneered, and you were willing to bet he was smiling.

his words only provoked you and you walked out of the living room, realizing that he couldn't be there, you were surprised to realize that you actually started looking for him, now angry at the way he was openly mocking you. you opened the bathroom door, peering in after turning on the light.

- cold.

you immediately left the room, closed the door and stepped into the corridor, which this time led to your bedroom. but before you got close to it, your steps slowed down, as you became more reluctant to head towards this part of the apartment, what if he was inside ?

- why are you slowing down ? maybe I'm inside.

- fuck it, you muttered.

you continued to hold your knife, getting ready to use it, when you arrived at the door to your room and opened it, you went in, and looked all around, near your desk, in the nooks and crannies, then your gaze fell back on your wardrobe, which was closed.

- are you in there ? you asked, your breath catching.

you heard his breathing through the phone become more erratic, and that's all you could hear as you held it to your ear.

- open it.

without further hesitation, you grabbed both wrists of your wardrobe and suddenly opened them, brandishing your knife in your face the next second.

but surprisingly, he wasn't there, so you straightened up and let your arm fall back down your body, then brought the phone up to your ear to hear your interlocutor, who seemed to love playing with your mind and emotions. he started laughing again, and the more he did it, the more it annoyed you than it frightened you now.

- no, i'm not there sweetheart, i was just messing with you.

- asshole, wanting to play a game without even knowing how to play it, you laughed bittersweetly.

you could sense that he wasn't happy with your answer, maybe even angry, but in any case, he didn't show it and decided to restart the game.

- you're getting colder, keep looking.

since you'd gone in the opposite direction and weren't getting any closer, you decided to return to the area you'd been in when you received the bloody call, retracing your steps, finding yourself in the hallway where your bathroom was once again.

- you're still cold.

you sighed in annoyance, but kept on walking, and when you passed the bathroom door you'd already looked in.

- warm, he warned you, and his husky voice sent shivers down your spine.

the further you went, the more your heart pounded to the point where that was all you could hear now. now you were back in your living room, you couldn't make any sense of the situation, you must have misunderstood his directions, he couldn't be there.

- you're getting warmer, good, very good sweetheart, you're almost there.

and yet, the praise almost made you blush again, you felt butterflies in your stomach and snapped inwardly as you remembered who you were on the phone with.

slightly frustrated by the flirtatious tone, you began to hold your knife out in front of you, preparing yourself better in case you found him.

as well as being frustrated, you were in total bewilderment, you had no idea where he could be, he kept messing with your head and he was very good at it.

he definitely wasn't in the kitchen, nor in the living room, not even towards the entrance, since you'd glanced around.

- keep looking, y/n, it'd be a shame if i find you first, wouldn't it ? tormented ghostface.

you held back from insulting him once more, avoided the living room areas you'd already looked at, and moved towards the only corridor on the opposite side of the apartment where you hadn't glanced.

and to do this, you had to pass through the corridor to your left leading to the front door, when you passed this door, and moved into the unlit corridor where in one of the doors lay your washing machine and other belongings, he spoke again.

- you don't want to turn colder again, don't you ? now, turn around.

paranoid, you thought he was right behind you, so you quickly turned around and took a big step back, the knife right in front of you, your arm raised, and you let out an expletive when you couldn't see anyone again. He was definitely playing with your mind and you'd had enough. You could feel the frustration heating your blood.

you made the choice not to pay any more attention to your footsteps, beginning to believe that he had lied to you and wasn't even near you, that this was just to scare you.

- warm.

but then you stopped, and that's how you noticed you were near the entrance hall. no, it couldn't be.

you headed in that direction, advancing slowly, cold sweat beginning to take refuge on your forehead.

- warmer.

shit. shit. shit.

you noticed the cupboard embedded in the wall a metre from the landing, and realized he was probably here. I'd have heard him, the kitchen's right next door. you had no idea what was going on.

- very very warm, he whispered.

your trembling hand came to rest on the wrist of the hall cupboard, hesitantly, you didn't open it immediately, feeling your breathing quicken.

in a split second, you brought your other hand to the cabinet and jerked it open. but nothing, absolutely nothing.

- fucking bastard, you growled.

you sighed, and slammed the wardrobe doors shut, the sound echoing throughout the apartment after this act of anger and you could hear him laughing in your ear.

pissed off, you returned to the kitchen to the very same spot where you had decided to call the police, still holding your weapon in your hand which was now on the kitchen counter facing the living room.

- now you're boiling.

you held your phone so tightly in your hand that you could have crushed it. you didn't know whether your hands were shaking with fear or anger, or both.

- i’m done with that shit, you growled again, if you want me, come and get me.

- want you in which way, darling ? don't get me wrong, both involve ropes, but it's an important distinction to make before we proceed.

- w-what ?

and just then, you saw a shadow with a very tall figure forming right in front of you.

you immediately dropped your phone from your hands, about to turn and brandish your knife to stab him, but a large gloved hand pressed against your mouth and an imposing body slammed you against the surface.

your scream was then muffled by the hand over your mouth, and your knife was snatched from your other hand, panic instantly seizing you after your weapon was snatched from you, you tried to fight back by reaching behind him with your hands, but his free hand had no trouble grabbing both your wrists and pinning them behind your back.

- i told you it'd be a shame if i find you first, he said mockingly.

the tears in your eyes blurred your vision, you kept squirming in all directions and your screams kept choking against your attacker's glove. then you felt them, your hands bound by ropes.

ropes that burned your wrists, he had to take his hand away from his mouth to bind your hands, and you couldn't control the rhythm of your breathing.

- no no no no no, you protested, naively trying to free yourself from the ropes.

just then, you felt his hips push you against the counter again and his hand slid down your back to force you against the surface, bended you over, he towered over you.

- p-please, please let me go, you tried not to let the tears roll down your cheeks, but your voice betrayed your fear.

- where's that attitude you were giving me earlier, hm ?

- i-i’m sorry, you let your forehead hit the cold surface of the counter, your eyes closed.

- you look so good like that, he murmured under his breath, bended over, begging for me, better than i have imagined.

a new complaint came from the back of your throat, and you started to struggle again, unconsciously moving your hips to push him away. then you felt something against you, something hard, then you heard him growl.

your mouth fell open in astonishment, you must surely have heard wrong, you thought. then you continued to rub your hips against him, your two bodies pressed together, and suddenly his left hand grabbed your hip to immobilize you.

an amused smile spread across your lips, contradicting the tears in your eyes.

- does this turn you on ? do i'm turning you on mr. ghostface ? you said in a playful tone.

- shut up, i'm gonna fuck that attitude out of you, spat the killer.

a groan threatened to leave your mouth but you managed to control it, feeling all wet after rubbing yourself against him and his modulated voice making you feel things you shouldn't feel.

a moan threatened to leave your mouth but you managed to control it, you felt all wet after rubbing yourself against him and his modulated voice made you feel things you shouldn't feel.

quickly, he removed your shorts followed by your underwear, leaving you almost naked apart from your black top, your wet intimacy exposed to the cool apartment air sending a shiver down your spine and forcing you to squeeze your thighs together.

- uh uh, none of that, open those legs for me, he said, slapping one of your thighs.

aware of the extent of your desire between your legs, you spread them slowly and slightly, enough for him to slip his hand in.

his fingers began to tease your crotch, you were about to open your mouth to express your desire, but closed it when his fingers moved to brush over her clit. you breathed deeply and closed your eyes as you felt his fingers gently beginning to knead at your clit and press against your entrance.

you took a shaky breath, clenching down around the finger gently as it was pushed in up to the second knuckle.

you moaned happily, your hips pressing forward. your hips swayed further as he began to move his fingers slowly. his fingers moved in and out of her slowly. then he gently curled them as he moved them, smiling at the cry he drew from you. his thumb gently massaged your clit, and you arched your back silently asking for more.

- you like that, huh ?

you nodded positively, moaning softly, your lip still between your teeth.

- come on, what did i told you earlier, sweetheart ?

words.

- f-fuck, y-yes.

- yes what ? while curling his fingers inside of you.

- yes, yes i-i like that.

he was starting to pick up his pace, you could hear his breathing jerking in turn, getting harder and harder by the pretty sounds you were making and the way you were moving your hips against him. although he'd been using a fairly gentle rhythm, now he was thrusting his fingers into you harder and harder, going even deeper.

causing moans that you could no longer control, especially when he added another finger, unconsciously, you closed your legs once more against the sensation that invaded you, but his other hand forced you to keep them spread for him.

even if you wanted to deny him access to your legs by closing them, you couldn't, his grip was too strong for you to move, it would probably leave a mark later.

when his fingers reached that spot inside you, you tilted your head back, eyes closed. he took advantage of your position to lean towards you, so that his fingers were deep inside you, and your belly was completely pressed into the countertop surface, as were your hips.

he grabbed your jaw to force you to open your eyes and tilt your head back even further, causing you to arch your back even more to the point of slight pain, and with your hands tied behind your back, it wasn't easy, so when you did, you fell into the big, intimidating black eyes of his mask.

but the idea of him fucking you in his ghostface costume, mask and gloves made you wetter, it was so wrong.

you gave him those doe eyes, and he swore he could have cum right now just from the look you were giving him. you half-opened your mouth as if to let out another moan, but nothing came out.

his thumb moved to your lower lip, his hand still gripping your jaw. his other hand continued to penetrate you roughly, but you still wanted more. he could read the desire on your face, in your eyes.

- what's the matter, pretty girl ? do you want my cock instead ?

you nod eagerly.

- please, i w-want it so bad.

the position you were in meant you couldn't breathe properly, your back arched, your head back as you stared into the big black eyes of the ghost mask.

his thumb pressed your clitoris just right, in a delicious way that brought back that exquisite sensation in your lower belly. but suddenly he withdrew his hand, feeling you suddenly empty, you let out a whine.

but he quickly silenced you by pushing the two fingers inside you into your mouth, his other hand controlling your movements through your jaw and forcing you to take his fingers covered in your juices.

- that's it, taste yourself, take those fingers right down your throat, whispered ghostface.

you felt your taste on his two fingers deposited on your tongue, you closed your mouth to suck greedily on his fingers that he pushed deep into your throat, creating new tears in the corner of your eyes and causing you a gag that seemed to satisfy him.

his fingers were so deep in your throat that your saliva was starting to drip down the corner of your mouth.

His hand that held your jaw withdrew from it, you felt the trace of the fabric of his gloves burn your jaw in the absence of his hand, then just after, you heard the sound of a belt unbuckling just behind you.

claiming only his fingers or his cock inside of you again, you moved your hips back, and felt the brutal material of his jeans, and then, from his underwear, you could especially feel his erection that was right against your ass.

you tried to speak, but with his fingers in your throat and the taste of your wetness on your tongue, those sounds were muffled, but you knew he'd heard you because he pushed his fingers even deeper into your mouth, making you feel a little dizzy.

as he let out a muffled moan against the movement of your hips against him, he in turn thrust against you, feeling your clitoris swell with excitement.

then, a few seconds later, unexpectedly, without any warning from him, you felt his tip right in front of your entrance and quickly, he penetrated you brutally, knocking the wind out of your lungs, causing you to scream due to the impact.

- did i go in too fast ? he laughed, tilting his head to one side, his voice still modified by the modulator.

he started to thrust in and out of you at a pace that made you see stars. his fingers left your throat, and you took a deep breath of air, you were suffocating, and yet his index finger remained between your mouth and your teeth, understanding what he wanted you to do, you bit the material of his glove, allowing him to slide his hand out, removing his glove for him, letting go of the glove in your mouth, you could then observe his hand.

large and covered with veins. You could almost recognize his hand. Your pussy was throbbing and the harsh thrusts didn't help.

suddenly, his hand grabbed the back of your neck and tilted you forward, pushing your chest against the surface where you rested your cheek. it felt so good, you could hear him growling behind you and your whole body wanted to submit to him. his thrusts pushed your belly against the counter, his hips slammed into your buttocks.

for support, he grabbed the ropes he'd tightened around your hands, still holding your neck to make sure you didn't move, you were his to fuck.

you tried to straighten up, but his grip prevented you, so you tried to look over your shoulder, and just seeing him fucking you could make you cum on the spot, his tall figure, the mask, him dominating you.

the erotic sound of his cock thrusting into you filled the room and mingled with your moans and grunts.

- harder, please fuck me harder, you begged, letting your forehead fall back against the counter, eyes closed.

- you want me to fuck you harder ? he said playfully, fine then, i’ll fuck you harder.

he did as you asked, but first by slowing down his thrusts, you then let out some moans as you arched your back, but then he thrust more brutally, deeper into you, all the while being fast. you opened your mouth in pleasure, before going back to biting your lip.

his bare hand grabs your waist and uses it as leverage to thrust into you, leaving you little or no time to adjust as he drives deep into you.

he pulls you back, using his grip on your wrists as your pussy tightens around his cock under his thrusts.

after a few more strokes that made you feel disoriented to the point where it was hard to keep your eyes open. a small noise near you caught your attention, you reopened your eyes breathing hard, and noticed the ghostface mask right next to you, he'd just pulled it off. your eyes widened in astonishment.

- taking it so well, hm whore ? he said in a taunting tone, the modulator was off, god, you feel amazing, he moaned.

and you recognized that voice.

- e-ethan ?

you couldn't see him, but he was smiling and pounding into you, his curly hair falling back on his forehead with a little sweat on his temples.

without you expecting it, his hand on the back of your neck slid down your throat to pull you back to his torso, your hands tied behind your back making the position slightly uncomfortable, but when you let your head fall below his shoulder to look up at him, you forgot the discomfort.

you couldn't believe it, ethan, the shy, dorky guy you were so close to.

- hi baby, surprised ? he smirked devilishly.

- i- you tried to speak, but another of his blows triggered a soft moan.

he laughed again, his eyes never leaving your face, watching as your eyebrows furrowed and your mouth opened in pleasure. he tightened his hand around your neck enough to reduce the air passing through to your lungs, and again he felt you tighten around him.

- look at you, what a little slut. you look so pretty with my hand around your throat.

wanting to look at him, you opened your eyes again, your eyes met and you noticed how dark his gaze was as I'd never seen it before. his hand on your hip began to rub your clit deliciously while he was thrusting in you.

he leaned over and placed his lips against yours to kiss you passionately, not giving you a chance to breathe, you kissed him back without hesitation, which made him smile.

when the kiss ended and you parted, you looked up at him again, his hand still around your neck. you let out at surprised gasp when he forced you to bend over once more, removing his hand from your throat to move it into your hair, which he grabbed to pull you back.

you found yourself in the same position as before, your back curved and your head tilted back. you could see him, but instead of the ghostface mask, you saw ethan's angelic face, who wasn't actually so angelic.

his grip on your hair made you groan, and you'd never have suspected this dominance from mindy's number one suspect.

- open your mouth.

damn.

you opened your mouth as he asked, tongue out, with a doe eyed gaze that made him growl. he leaned closer and spat into your mouth.

- swallow it.

and you did. you swallowed without replying under his eager gaze. you stuck out your tongue to prove it, god, you were sure you looked so dirty like that. his gloveless hand found its way to your cheek, and he patted it before caressing it with a delicacy that contradicted the brutality of his strokes that made you stammer.

- that’s it. you’re being very good baby.

the praise pushed you to give him a fucked up smile. the more time passed, the more you felt that knock in your lower belly. you were close,and ethan could feel it too by the way you tightened around him.

- s-shit, e-ethan, i’m close.

- i know, baby, cum for me.

with his hand pulling your hair tighter so he could get a better view of your face to see you cum, before long, you were cumming and felt your legs trembling under the intensity, and when you came, you let out the prettiest sound without worrying whether your neighbors heard you or not.

he let go of your hair, and both his hands bestially gripped your hips, he was close too, you felt overstimulated but you knew he was going to cum soon so you

let him use you. he muttered "fuck" under his breath, and cummed as he sank deep inside you, stopping his thrusts to stay deep inside you. he tilted his head back, his adam's apple perfectly visible and you didn't have to look at him to know he must be incredibly beautiful like that.

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