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ronearoundblindly · 1 year

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Your Dog, His Tricks

a Steve Rogers x Avenger!Reader tale set a little over a year after losing their virginity together and based on this ask.

Summary: Injured on a mission and MIA for days, you return to a very high-strung boyfriend who can't express what he's feeling until it boils to the surface.

Warnings: arguments and smut. MINORS DNI. WC 5.4k

You don’t know when it started, this sort of competition with your boyfriend, but at some point you and Steve became a packaged deal. Unfortunately, that package was labeled: Steve Rogers and his girl. You feel nameless sometimes, and you know you are better than that; maybe you aren’t super like he is, but you are (and were since before dating) a whole-ass Avenger in your own right. You are a stellar agent. You can bring home the top prize. You can finish this shit-show of a mission all on your own.

No help.

None.

You noticed a problem after months and months of fighting with Steve—no, that sounds wrong—beside Steve.

Okay, maybe it’s not wrong-wrong to say fighting with him because you two do have the occasional argument. Just one argument, really. One argument over and over again about you fighting beside him, why it’s fine, why he should let it go. You are as safe fighting beside him now as you were before the two of you became this set, this lop-sided partnership. He still wants to protect you from shit you are trained to protect yourself from, shit you survived just fine without him, shit like the last three days.

He’s stubborn, and so are you.

You’ve had trouble getting him to back off. The Team is a team, and Steve does great, delegating all sorts of jobs when you are one among many. As soon as it’s you and him alone? He’s…overly helpful, over-protective, and generally over-the-top fussy. He is adoring and caring and competent. Apparently, those things make him feel capable of doing everything for you. It’s sweet until it’s not. Every time you start a project—laundry, cooking, organizing shelves, or leading an actual mission—Steve waltzes in and has to finish it for you.

Because he loves you. Because he’s trying to help. Because he can.

It makes you feel as if you can’t, or, at least, as if he thinks you can’t.

“Well, buddy, you can’t have this one,” you mutter outside of HQ’s gate, gripping your side and flicking open the phone you stole a few states back.

You’ve been gone for just shy of seventy-three hours.

At first, you truly had no way to contact the Team. You were on your own a thousand miles from home, fried comms and a spent weapon. You missed the rendezvous at the safehouse because it took twenty or so hours to find a vet office with the supplies to patch yourself up, and by the time you could have reached out, that ear worm wouldn’t leave you alone.

He’ll swoop in.

He’ll save you.

You’re his girl, so you need him. You can’t handle this without him. No one will believe you did once he gets anywhere near you.

Call it adrenaline. Call it blood loss. Call it shock. You can’t give up this glory, so you told yourself you needed radio silence to keep the recovered intel secure until back on Avengers campus. You told yourself the risk of interception was too high to chance a phone call.

Now, fifty feet from the infirmary, you need to get past one more obstacle.

You know Steve would jump from a third-story window to get to you, know he would scoop you right up into his arms and carry you over the threshold, know that would mean Steve wins.

No. Not this time. This is yours. You deserve the credit. You are crossing that finish line solo.

You jab the last of the epi-pens into your good leg, letting yet more adrenaline heave through what little of your blood volume is left and call the HQ secure line from the burner.

“Friday,” you start, standing at the bus stop, a blindspot from the Avengers’ surveillance cameras because the city already monitors it, “authorization Gamma-Lima-Four-Whisky. Do not declare connection. I repeat, do not declare this connection.”

The AI welcomes you back onto the grid politely.

“Thank you.” A bubble of pain bursts in your throat. “Give them a different location for this call, ok? Tell them it’s from the nearest functional payphone.”

Friday does as you say because why wouldn’t she? It’s not as if Steve is going to pause to question where the ping is—

—and he’s already out, on the bike, pushing that engine to its acceleration limit and narrowly escaping a shoulder check from the slowly opening gates.

You sneak right past, knowing he won’t look in his rearview, not with his eye on a prize ten blocks away, and you collapse just inside the garage ramp.

You wake prone in the Regeneration Cradle after surgery to a kind, smiling nurse monitoring your progress.

It’s difficult to focus. After a few blinks, you can see her features clearly, then beyond her are just eyes.

His eyes.

Piercing blue doesn’t begin to describe the intensity of Steve’s gaze, and his silence is deafening.

Each quarter-minute he inventories the room, and he exhales. That is the sum total of what he can manage to do right now. He’s attempting to keep it together until you two are alone obviously. Steve fails at very few things in life; this is one of them. You can see the outline of his teeth through his tight cheek.

“Doc wanted me to tell you you did a great job,” the nurse states softly. “If you hadn’t packed those wounds so tight, you’d have died for sure.”

Your mouth is too dry to respond, so you flash a wry smile. No one gets the Cradle without…extensive injuries. You’ve never had the ‘pleasure,’ not even for your through-and-through last year.

Steve huffs in frustration, keeping his huge body out of the nurse’s way even when you can feel him try to astral project himself forward to hand you ice chips. Instead, you swallow cotton.

“Captain Rogers,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. chimes from above, “your motorcycle has been cited for running five red lights with a further two dozen traffic violations. Shall I claim Official Avengers’ business?”

You croak ‘no.’ He says ‘yes.’

There’s a pause. “I will ask again later.”

Who says AIs can’t throw some serious shade?

Silence descends again as the spindling print needle moves on to a different wound. You’re lucid but wobbly trying to think, a combination of the waning anesthesia and pain meds.

If frowns could kill, your boyfriend’s would devastate the entire med bay.

This is what you hoped beyond hope to avoid, but it’s also why your endgame involved going solo.

“You’re making my point for me,” you sigh, your chest hurting more after surgery than it has in the past twenty-four hours. Clearly, your nerves are back online.

“And what point was that?“ he asks sarcastically, waiting in your own stubborn silence. “You gave me a heart attack.”

“Really?” You’re playfully shocked.

“No, not really! God.” He rushes closer. “What the hell were you thinking? If you had time to send me on a wild goose chase, you could damn well have called to tell me you were alive!”

The cradle’s lights shut off, job complete.

“Language, Steve.”

He looks incredulous, engrossingly livid, anxious outrage contained by his one frayed thread of control left.

“We found the intel,” he grits through a clenched jaw. “After power-washing your blood off it, everything was on the drive.”

You can’t sit up on your elbows yet, so you bite back, “good. It all worked out fine then.”

Wafting off him in thick clouds, Steve’s anger is near-flammable in the small room.

The nurse offers to step out for a second.

You say ‘yes.’ Steve barks ‘no.’

This isn’t the nurse’s first rodeo. “Alright, surgery went well. All debris and fragments removed. Your tissue is all intact now, too, but remember, this treatment doesn’t train new muscle fiber or nerve-endings.” She ignores Steve and pushes past to the other end of the table. “Rest up. Tomorrow, you can report to PT. They’ll work with you until you’re field-approved again.”

“She is not—“

“Both of you are ordered to rest,” the nurse snaps, nodding in Steve’s direction “—and make yourself useful by changing her drip when it runs out. If you can’t manage that, Captain, I will find a separate apartment or keep her here overnight.”

“No,” Steve breathes, visibly deflating. Like a scolded puppy, your boyfriend tucks his chin down, rings of grey settling beneath his dark sea eyes. It’s plain as day he hasn’t slept either.

The nurse calls for a wheelchair, and Steve dutifully helps you scoot off the table when it arrives. While he positions the IV to move in tandem, you attempt to push yourself by the huge rubber wheels and fail. Doc was not kidding about muscle weakness.

Steve says nothing.

You’re rolled back to your shared room by the grumpiest Captain America.

He helps you dress in baggy, comfy clothes and silently reattaches the line of your drip. Not one touch is in a sexual, sensual, or even intimate way even though you are naked at some point.

You can’t remember what you expected; you’ve been so focused on completing the mission for so long. Did you want a desperate homecoming? Did you want him to grovel or worship at your feet? You think, at some point, you knew he’d push back, but you thought…maybe…he’d want you more.

Steve seems to turn his interest on and off so easily, which is great professionally but hard to read personally…or maybe you’re just struggling under the distracting hum of medication. It’s a white noise you can’t ignore, lulling you unconscious, so you can’t analyze the situation anymore. Maybe, you think, you try…but the thoughts don’t come.

He situates you on his side of the bed—to accommodate the cord and stand—and tucks himself quietly into the smallest corner of mattress that his bulk can fit on.

He falls asleep holding your hand. It’s the only place you two are connected. After nearly eighty-five hours apart, that’s still worth it. Maybe.

At some point, his hand goes limp and falls away.

Finally clear of mind, you keep watching Steve the next day. He doesn’t necessarily seem angry, and he doesn’t necessarily seem relieved either. He’s so robotic in his interactions. He won’t talk to you just at you.

You understand why he was so standoffish last night, but you thought Steve would surely want you after that. You thought he’d start touching you again.

You two waited so long for your first time, but after that, sex was relatively easy. Steve is an affectionate man when he’s allowed, when he’s in love, and you know he loves you.

Like the nurse said: all your tissue is fully healed. The only restrictions you have are in regards to field work, and the phantom jolts of pain—when you reach into a cabinet or take down a clothes hanger—aren’t real.

Steve’s always an arm’s length away, just in case, meaning he is there to help you.

Always an arm’s length away.

No closer. No farther.

That afternoon you attempt to start talking about your mission, but that’s when he moves.

Steve practically sprints out the door with a half-baked excuse, so you go to physical therapy alone. You can go alone. That’s not the problem.

If you thought talking to Steve was difficult, you weren’t ready for how hard touching Steve would be.

You try to initiate even a cuddle that second night, and he jumps up claiming to have forgotten something somewhere else that he promised someone. Your boyfriend can’t lie worth beans. You don’t know why he tries.

You’re asleep before he returns.

The next night is exactly the opposite. You spend longer at the gym, slowly and painstakingly repeating every single exercise you know in order to streamline these new muscles. It’s an unholy pain in the ass, but you do it because you can—and will—get back in the field.

Even though the workout was mild, you’re awash with that runner’s high when you return to find Steve passed out already. He looks so peaceful, brow relaxed and lips gently parted. He also looks, well, good enough to eat, but you’ll start slow.

There was one time early on, before you two went all the way, that you woke him up by grinding on him in your sleep. You think now, perhaps, you can recreate that, catch him off-guard and dissipate some of this tension between you. This would be a good release. You don’t normally go this long. Obviously, Steve wouldn’t have masturbated while you were MIA and possibly dead, and every other second since has been accounted for.

He practically can’t have sex anywhere else except naked in a bed. He’s even told you, point blank, that he feels no need to touch himself since he has you. You are what he wants. That’s what he said.

Except he doesn’t wake up to your advances. He just rolls over like you’re disturbing him and softly snores.

For the first time, you wonder if you’ve really broken the two of you. How long will he be mad at you for doing your job?

Steve rolls back over in his sleep, holding you close like nothing’s happened. He doesn’t even know he’s doing it, but it’s enough and so, so wonderful to imagine all is well.

About a week into your ‘recovery’ (which is sorta bullshit since you can do everything the same by now just with an occasional, faint twinge, no more than the strain of every workout, ever), Steve takes Sam Wilson up on his offer of 1-on-1 basketball for a while. The Team—minus you—has a raid planned in the morning, and there’s always nervous energy to burn off in anticipation.

Your boyfriend has been a nightmare grump, but no one wants to take on the hassle of convincing Steve that he’s being too Steve to Steve properly. He still won’t talk to you about anything other than the weather, food, or daily schedules.

You’re even considering taking a break from field work because this all has become too much. If Steve is gonna shut down after every dangerous mission—which is, in fact, all of them—then maybe it’s not worth the risk. You’re good, you’re great, but you aren’t super.

“Taste of his own medicine, I say,” Bucky mutters, sitting beside you on the bleachers between courts.

“Huh?” You were distracted, watching Steve and Sam squeak across the floor.

Steve sinks a perfect layup and doesn’t gloat. Do-gooder.

“He used to get so mad when I’d find him in an alley all beaten up,” Buck continues. “Thought I was being too protective. I trusted him, but he was puny and he did get sick all the time. He could take a punch, sure, but every mark took weeks to heal. Half the time, they were still yellow when some idiot landed fresh ones.”

Steve claps beneath the net, encouraging Sam, focused on not outshining anyone.

He’s been the same with everyone else but you, and the whole Team can see it. You shouldn’t be surprised someone is finally talking about it; you simply wonder how Buck drew the short straw.

“Didn’t wanna be babied,” Bucky snorts, fondly glowering at his century-long bestie, “while low and behold, he pulls that stunt with everybody, every day.”

“Yup,” you pop, looking at the matte metal beneath your feet, knowing there’s a line between the ‘caring’ version and the ‘coddling’ version. Steve nose-dived right over that line this time.

“What he appreciated, though, was consistency.” Bucky swivels his hair around into a bun and ties it. “Punk is dedicated, and even if it was just him--the hund’ed pound soaking-wet guy whose only real talent at that point was getting back on his feet--he knew he’d fight anyway.

“Bit hypocritical to be mad at his girl for doing the same, don’t ya think?” Bucky muses, clucking his tongue.

The brunette watches you bristle slightly at the moniker. His girl. Not only is it what got you into this mess, it feels untrue based on that big, broad, cold shoulder you’ve received from the man racing back and forth in front of you.

Smiling, Bucky nudges you with his elbow. “I’m excited for you to get back on your feet,” he adds.

You’re stuck thinking about that long after Bucky jumps into the game.

It’s no surprise then that when the doctor gives you the all-clear the very next morning, you’re over the moon and ready to strike. You don’t hesitate for a second when the alarm sounds less than an hour later.

The Team needs reinforcements. Your Team needs you.

You hustle into the back of a quinjet with a dozen agents. While the others file out to where the main conflict is raging, you sneak around the perimeter to suss out the mission goal, a treasure trove of enemy tech hidden somewhere in what was thought to be an abandoned village.

Not so abandoned if it’s lighting up like the pyrotechnics show on an action film set...

The explosions rattle the ground, yet you know the Team have breached the main chamber. Those enemy forces still fighting are distracting from a retreat. The other agents can catch them just fine. Your mission is intel recovery.

To keep your approach stealthy, you don’t announce your movements over comms, and Nat doesn’t scan back down the dark hallway you wedge into as she carries out an asset. If you weren’t so far back, you never would have seen him.

An enemy agent slinks out from behind a floor-to-ceiling tapestry right in front of you. His silhouette is short and thin; he’s built for stealth, too.

Your heart thumps loud in your ears as you follow, and that bastard gets close—so close—to Steve’s turned back that the pistol’s muzzle nearly touches.

Not this time. Not a chance. None.

You land a roundhouse kick to the exposed neck above his kevlar, and that sucker goes down like a sack of potatoes.

Steve turns around at the ready, stunned silent in the middle of his instructions to Bucky who is not visible from the other side heaped boxes. The papers still smoke where evidence was burned.

You salute at big, blue eyes.

“On your six, Cap.”

Steve looks at you, looks down at the man, and looks back up at you…pissed.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

What the fuck indeed…

All you did was help your team. All you did was stop Captain America from getting his head blown off. In no small fashion, all you did was save your boyfriend’s life.

“Uh, you’re welcome.”

His grip on your arm is painful as he leads you all the way back to the jet himself, shoving you into the jump seat between other returned agents and shouting for you to 'stay right there.'

Bucky announces over comms that the rest is clean up. All but the specialized document interpretation and perimeter teams are moving out.

Steve huffs, contemplates staying on a battlefield instead of going back with you, but decides to sit across the ship in silence again, fuming, making fists over and over in his fingerless leather gloves, bitterly sniffing as loud as possible the entire flight home. He refuses to answer a single person until the jet touches down at HQ.

“Everyone off,” he bellows, “everyone except you.”

You can’t stop it. Your hands fly up in exaggerated annoyance automatically.

“What do you want, Steve? I got the go-ahead this morning. I’m allowed to be here.”

“Stop doing that.” He rounds on you.

“Doing what? My job?!”

Chest puffed out, feathers ruffled, cheeks hot and red, Steve peels off his cowl. “Being insubordinate.”

“You’re not my superior officer,” you hiss, “we are equals, and if you think for one second I did anything wrong out there, go ahead and report me. From where I’m standing, I did the work, got cleared for duty, helped out the team, and stopped you from being shot.”

You poke a finger to his chest for each achievement listed.

“Fine," Steve shouts, crossing his arms, "but quit acting like a selfish coward.”

Them be fightin’ words. “A what?”

“You heard me,” he all but whispers.

It’s laughable, truly laughable how bad Steve is at hiding some of those wheels from turning in his head. This isn’t about today. This is the thing he buried the past week.

You roll your eyes. “If you’re gonna throw a hissy fit every time I get a scratch—“

“THREE BULLETS IS NOT A SCRATCH.” He tries—he visibly, painfully tries—to keep his cool one last time. “You weren’t ready,” he concludes, judge, jury, and executioner all poured into one star-spangled package.

“Say’s who?” You’re stepping closer, getting in his face because this is bullshit and unfair. “Last time I checked you’re not a doctor, and you should be thanking me for saving your ass—“

“It’s not your job to save me.”

“We have the same job, Steve! We are both perfectly capable of—“

“I know that,” he barks, hot breath mingling with yours.

“Do you? Because you don’t seem to think I can handle myself.” You push weakly at his chest, taunting, like it's a game. “Maybe you need to walk it off, buddy.”

His face cracks, an avalanche unmoored from a stable mountain.

Oh shit. You’ve done it now.

“Walk it off?! WALK IT OFF?!”

Steve charges like a bull seeing red, crowding you against the far wall, his own derisive finger pointed at your heart.

“You were injured. You didn’t make contact. You went dark for days, and you could have died. Alone. In the middle of nowhere. Who knows how long it would have taken us to find you. No—“ he cups your chin in a tight pinch “—you want to talk about the job? It’s protocol to check in. It’s common courtesy to let me know you’re alive, and it’s goddamn rude to ignore your own safety.”

A dark, hazy sheen layers over his sharp gaze. “Don’t make me keep you home.”

There’s a deep line of frustration carved between his brows. His nostrils flair as he waits, daring you to refute him.

“Well—” you purse your lips in defiance “—isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black.”

Steve lets go of you, smacked away by your cutting tone.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, whatever, Rogers,” you dismiss. “We both know you don’t have the authority to bench me.”

“Like hell I don’t,” he growls, grabbing your wrists and throwing your arms above your head, He weaves your hands through the cargo net behind you. The loops are tight and complicated in seconds, he’s so fast.

You can’t wriggle away.

“Let’s see how you like it.”

Steve roughly throws the zipper of your uniform down, letting the jacket hang open to show nothing but your sports bra.

“Feeling paralyzed—“ he dexterously undoes your belt “—exposed—“ your pants and underwear are yanked down to your ankles “—and afraid.” His last word thickens the air on the jet.

How can this man launch you into unbridled lust in the space of two syllables?

Who. Fucking. Cares. How.

Steve’s fingertips teasingly glide over the swell of your breasts, brush down your belly, and tick their way in a casual walk between your legs. He retracts his touch the instant you let out a longing sigh, unable to restrain how needy you are. His fingers wander to perfectly clean and unmarked flesh…on your thigh, along one side, and a few inches below that. He’s tracing the bullet wounds he watched heal so quickly.

“Maybe I should leave you wondering how it’ll all play out?” he says absently, lost in thought, his thumb shifting to notch into the dip of your hip. “Maybe I should leave you wondering if we’ll ever—”

“Yes,” you whimper, no real idea what you’re saying. That’s not what answer you meant.

“How would you like three whole days of this feeling, huh? You think you’d fare any better than I did? Think you’d make it even five minutes?”

“Uh-uh.” Again, with no clue what you’re truly responding to, you buck your hips forward onto his long fingers.

The cords around your wrists get tighter while you struggle to set a pace. Behind you, the metal rings of the netting hit the hull with a soft clinking noise.

“Not so fast.” Steve pulls his hand away just far enough to remove all friction. “Because three days, sweetheart, it was torture. Felt like an eternity right on the edge.”

“Please,” you beg.

One deliberate swipe of his fingers through your slick is enough to make you mewl.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Steve. Please, I need you.”

“Need me? You have an odd way of showing it, doll. You have to promise me—“ he thrusts his fingers in “—promise me you’ll never leave me.”

“I’ll never leave you,” you cry, convinced that it’s true for the sole reason: you never want to experience anything other than this Steve for as long as you live.

“You are so brave, and so…capable, and I know you can do anything, but you…can’t survive anything.” He takes excruciating pleasure in slow thrusts and teasing circles. “Promise me you won’t be so reckless. Promise, say it.”

“I promise.” Your weight sags into his ministrations, called to focus on nothing but where his hand disappears between you. “I promise I won’t be reckless.”

“That’s my girl.”

Your head falls limp against your tied arms. It sounds so good from his lips. Why did you ever doubt?

“I promise I’ll come back to you,” you manage out like a prayer.

“Yeah? That’s it. Is that what you want?”

“I promise. I promise, Steve.” You time your movements sloppily with his measured tempo. “Please, I need more.”

“I know. I know.” He’s strung out, too, listening to your pathetic whimpers after less than five minutes, exactly like he predicted.

You’re so over-wrought with desperation you can’t coordinate with his manhandling your legs apart—your knees, really, since your ankles are still caught in your pants. Instead of taking off your boots, Steve simply unzips himself and dives right into your wet, warm, and welcoming pussy.

Knowing he has a thing against anything naughty in his suits makes it sexier. You want his intensity—you’ve always been curious—and finally you have it: unhinged, untethered, super Steve Rogers. Your body makes room out of sheer joy.

“I know,” Steve coos, his face pressed to your chest as he adjusts. “Fuck, I know, honey.”

“Move, Steve.”

“No,” he says with a gentle kiss to your sternum. “You wanna come? Go ahead. You can do it all on your own. You can do anything you want, can’t ya?”

You groan in frustration.

You wanted this, an annoying voice in the muddled depths of your mind calls. You’re independent.

With a sob of both excitement and fury, your thighs weld onto that sturdy, I-beam beast. You brace your bent arms over your angled and hovering body, leveraging the cargo straps to hoist you up and down.

Your muscles burn, strained more than they were on your lone journey back to HQ.

Steve grunts and moans, the ghost of his wide spread palms beneath your back as a safety net.

“That’s it. That’s it, good girl.”

Amidst your own noises, you can barely hear him. You’re not building to a climax, you’re falling into one at terminal velocity, flailing. Struggling to hang on and let go all at once, you do come, but it’s more of a plateau than a full release.

Steve’s unhappy and takes your ass in a bruising grip, finally pumping his thick length in and out, dragging the head of his cock across that perfect spot over and over.

“You can do better than that,” he snarls, hair wrecked and falling in his face.

Wave, undertow, and wave again, pleasures simply blend into the next. He gets handsy, keyed up and out of control, muttering “don’t you ever fucking leave me.”

You’d scold him for cursing if the air weren’t being punched from your lungs.

“Come on, sweetheart. Three for three.”

You’re almost disappointed he only wants you to come three times in payment for his days of torture. Even as a tear escapes the corner of your eye and your throat breaks in a hoarse “please,” you know you would give him more. You'd give him anything.

When you finally reach that shattering end, Steve is almost incoherently feral, one hand clamped at the back of your neck, the other anchored to the small of your back, slamming your ass to his leather-covered thighs like you are his mission.

“I promise,” you try to repeat, but you aren’t sure they sound like words.

Whether in response to you or as an errant thought, Steve’s own broken voice rattles at your sweaty neck. “You can take it,” he whispers gruffly. “You can take it.”

You’re floating by the time he comes, his hips stilling slowly. The buzz of your body now outdoes anything anesthesia or pain meds concocted.

Steve peppers your skin with lazy, light kisses until you remind him of your bound wrists, but then he’s overly apologetic and scrambling to free them.

He keeps himself inside you and maneuvers to sit with you on his lap.

You stay there for a while, your numb and sore arms folded between your chests. Steve only stops petting your shoulders to cradle your face, soft blue eyes roaming, adoring. He whispers concern that you’re okay, how are your legs, are you warm enough, you feeling good?

Yes, you think, you’ve taken care of your girl.

“I love seeing you like this,” he mumbles long after the pins and needles have abandoned their assault on your tired legs.

You tuck some silky hair behind his ear. “Like what? Fucked out?”

He’s floating too because he doesn’t chastise.

“Happy, healthy—“ he lets out a deep sigh “—home.”

“Speaking of home,” you say, inching ever so slightly higher to let him slide out of you, “wanna cuddle in bed all night and not get up until someone tries to break in the door?”

That knocks some of the glow off him. He drags a hand down his face. “Oh god, the poor people who have to clean this thing…”

“Let’s be honest,” you snort. “This isn’t the worst thing that’s been on you, but if it’s that big of a deal, we could go hose you down before handing our equipment in.”

He smiles, shaking his head in dismissal.

With his help, you climb off his lap and slowly shimmy up your bottoms, realizing he did truly make a mess of you both.

Steve looks down at his own lap, horrified. “Do I need to burn this?”

“That sounds like a challenge to make you filthier,” you consider, but maybe you should change into your civies before exiting the jet…

“Ya know,” Steve muses, passing over to the small locker of clothing overhead and grabbing a t-shirt and sweats, “I almost got shot in the head today, and you had three bullets fished outta you a week ago. I’m thinking we’ve earned a vacation.”

Workaholic Steve? Actively applying for time off? You’ll be damned.

“My my my, Captain Rogers…the real dirty talk begins.”

He huffs out a laugh and blushes.

“Well, I know we didn’t do anything more special than dinner for our anniversary, so…” He pulls you to his chest again, smelling of slightly musty laundry and pungent sex. “Let’s go on a fucking vacation.”

Your neck cranes to his height to see a soft smile. Oof, he’s good.

“I missed you,” he adds like a prayer, “and you’re the badass who saved me.”

He giggles at your scrunched nose and watches you bask in that glory.

“Like I said, you’re welcome—“ you hug Steve, letting his warmth radiate through you, moving in time with his rising and falling chest “—and I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He kisses the crown of your head.

When you open the bombay doors, there’s a thermos left at the base of the ramp, a folded paper tucked beneath it.

We should talk about how to better soundproof the jets. Brought you some refreshments. It’s hazelnut. ~Bucky

Tags: @supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jamneuromain @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp @brandycranby

A/N: I sincerely give up on editing this anymore, so I hope it turned out okay 🙇🏻‍♀️

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#shy anon #750+#ro answers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x you #old dog new tricks #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers x reader smut #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america angst #captain america smut

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unabashegirl · 2 months

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Different 5 | College HS

Harry's quiet, routine-driven life changes one weekend when he meets Y/N through a mutual friend at her party. She comes from a superficial, materialistic world with absent parents who believe money solves everything. Despite their differences, something clicks that night, and Y/N can't stop thinking about him.

Author's note: Hello everyone, I hope you are all doing well! Here is another chapter of Different. Let me know what you think! 🫶🏻

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“Holy shit,” Mitch screamed as they all piled into the car. “What the hell is going on?” He pounded the steering wheel. “Did she really invite us over?” Jeff and Liam laughed in the backseat as they buckled up.

“She’s so attractive,” Liam said, scrolling through his phone. Harry wished he were in the car with her.

“Are you done?” Harry asked as Mitch started following her toward her apartment.

“Hell no!” Mitch replied, slamming the wheel as they stopped at a red light. “Are you planning to sleep with her tonight?”

“What do you mean?”

“The only reason she’s letting us stay over is because she wants to be around you,” Liam said, giving Harry’s shoulder a firm slap.

“So, are you sleeping with her or not?” Jeff asked with a chuckle. Harry suddenly felt nervous and regretted coming. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be with her, but he wasn’t sure how to handle the situation if it arose. He was a man and had seen porn, but he knew it was all staged. Most importantly, he had feelings for her and genuinely wanted to make her feel good.

Harry had always put girls on the back burner. He’d never been one to desperately seek out casual encounters. His main focus had always been his education, aiming for a stable future, providing for his family, and having better opportunities. But since Y/N had come into his life, she had become his only thought, consuming his mind day and night. He was constantly thinking about her and how she was doing.

“She’s just being nice,” he shrugged, dismissing their comments.

“You’ve got to make your move, H,” Mitch said as he drove. Harry didn’t respond, keeping his thoughts to himself. He mentally played out every possible scenario that could develop in her apartment. “And don’t you dare start stuttering and get all shy around her.” Harry wanted to punch him but held back and bit his tongue.

A few minutes later, they arrived at Y/N’s apartment. It was stunning—large for a single person but cozy, thanks to the numerous carpets, cushions, pillows, and warm lighting.

“What does her dad do again?” Jeff asked quietly as Y/N closed the door and slipped off her shoes in the foyer. Harry shrugged, unsure.

“Welcome! Make yourselves at home,” Y/N said with a smile, hanging her coat in the closet beside the front door. She watched as they scrambled to remove their shoes and hang their coats.

Meanwhile, she wrapped her arms around Harry’s torso waiting for everyone to settle down and arrange their shoes.

“There are two bedrooms upstairs and one downstairs. So, it’s up to you where you want to sleep tonight!”

“Shotgun upstairs!” Sarah called out just as the others began to argue. Y/N giggled as Jeff and Liam pushed each other, covering her ears and shaking her head at Harry’s friends.

“I’m sleeping upstairs and ON MY OWN!” Sarah shouted after the noise subsided a bit.

“Makes sense. You’re the only girl.”

“So, who’s sleeping with whom? Does Mitch sleep with Liam or Jeff?”

“Rock, paper, scissors?” Liam suggested, placing his hands on his hips.

“Deal.” The three of them started playing, with Mitch winning the last room upstairs.

“Where are your parents?” Jeff asked as he sat on the living room couch.

“Business trip. They’ve been gone for four months.” Y/N said this with a casual tone, but Harry could sense it bothered her. Everyone nodded and continued exploring the living room.

“Do you guys want to use the pool?” she asked, trying to change the subject.

“There’s a pool?!” Mitch exclaimed, surprised. Y/N nodded and walked to the sliding doors. She raised the blinds and opened the doors, revealing the heated pool.

“Oh!

“It’s fall. It’s too cold,” Liam pointed out as he stepped onto the terrace.

“It’s heated.”

“We don’t have bathing suits,” Sarah reminded them as everyone tested the pool’s temperature.

“You can borrow one of mine. I think my stepbrother might have left some clothes upstairs.”

“You have a stepbrother?” Harry asked, confused. He had never heard of him or seen him in any family photos, and Y/N had never mentioned him.

“I do. He had a falling out with my father and doesn’t come around anymore. He’s a jerk,” she admitted as they watched Mitch attempt to pick Sarah up and throw her into the pool. “I’ll go get them.” Y/N recalled the distress her stepbrother had caused their father. Although her father wasn’t perfect, her stepbrother was far from it.

“I’ll come with you,” Harry offered, following her upstairs. The upstairs was decorated just like downstairs, with numerous paintings and plants. It felt warmer and less modern compared to the other house he had visited. They walked to the last room down the hall. Her bedroom was painted a warm cream color, with a huge bed dominating the space. Everything was neat and thoughtfully arranged.

“Let me change quickly,” she said, disappearing into her closet, which was larger than his dorm room. Harry was left alone with his thoughts.

As he wandered around the room, he noticed the numerous picture frames and stacks of books beside her bed and desk. It surprised him to see how many books they had in common. He hadn’t guessed she read so much in her spare time. He could hear his friends laughing from upstairs, which eased his nerves.

“I’m ready,” she said, startling him. She emerged in a lime green bikini from a trip to Mallorca years ago. It left little to the imagination, and Harry found it hard to keep his eyes off her. “I’ll be right back!” Y/N went to the guest bedroom where her stepbrother had stayed last. He had arrived while she was at school, demanding to stay, and left a day later when her father forced him to leave. He promised to send his clothes, but he never did, as he never contacted them again.

“Do you want to change here or downstairs?” she asked as she reentered her bedroom.

“Here is fine,” he replied, choosing a pair of navy-blue shorts. Meanwhile, she selected several bikinis for Sarah to choose from, in various colors and styles.

“Are they comfortable?” she asked as he emerged. “Are you okay? You’ve been unusually quiet.” Her head tilted, curious and concerned. Harry didn’t feel prepared to handle her bare skin against his fingertips.

“I guess I’m just overthinking,” he said with a frown. Mitch and Liam’s comments had gotten to him and affected his enjoyment.

“Okay,” she said, and he noticed how close her lips were to his. He smiled and gave her a gentle kiss, sweet enough to make her smile. “Let’s go downstairs before Sarah gets thrown into the pool,” she giggled as they pulled away.

As they walked downstairs, hands intertwined and smiles on their faces, Harry braced himself for the reactions from his friends when they saw Y/N. He walked in front of her, trying to shield her from their prying eyes, feeling protective.

“Here,” Harry said, handing them the trunks.

“The bathroom is at the end of the hall on your right,” Y/N instructed. The boys, too excited to notice her appearance, raced to get into the pool. She wrapped her arms around Harry’s torso, hiding her nearly naked body from view. She then walked over to Sarah, giving Harry’s neck a quick kiss before presenting the bikinis. “I brought you a few options because I wasn’t sure what you’d prefer. This one is just like mine but white.”

"Absolutely not. I don’t have the confidence to pull that off or the body."

"You don’t," Harry confirmed, earning a glare from Sarah and an elbow to the ribs from Y/N.

"Yes, you do! It’s 2024. Anyone can pull it off. Don’t listen to him," Y/N encouraged, but Sarah still declined. Y/N continued showing her different options until she settled on one. "You’re a jerk," she pouted, turning her attention to Harry after Sarah disappeared to change. Y/N then took some towels out of a closet and placed them on the three tanning beds outside, by the edge of the pool.

"I was just being honest," he shrugged, walking to the steps of the pool and getting in. The water was warm, feeling more like a jacuzzi than a pool, but he didn’t mind. It helped him relax. Y/N connected her phone to the speakers and started playing music, setting the ambiance for everyone. Meanwhile, Harry swam around, trying to clear his mind. When he came back up for air, he noticed Y/N had also submerged and was staring at the starry night.

"Beautiful, huh?"

"Kiss me," she demanded. Harry reached out, cupped her face in his hands, and pressed his lips and body against hers. Even though he had her pressed up against him, it still didn’t feel like enough. He wrapped his arm around her waist, and as he had imagined, her skin felt like silk under his touch.

She was surprised by his sudden burst of confidence, until he pulled away and his cheeks reddened. Y/N pecked his lips a few more times before the moment was cut short by Mitch, Liam, and Jeff running out and jumping into the pool.

"It’s so nice," Mitch smiled as he came up for air.

Sarah walked out wearing a two-piece, but a bit less revealing than Y/N’s. Harry had made her feel self-conscious and reminded her of her insecurities. He made a mental note to personally apologize to her. It had been a joke, but he had accidentally taken it too far. They swam and joked around for hours, even making fun of Y/N, who laughed and joined in. Harry watched, as she yawned, arguing with Mitch. He swam up to her and wrapped himself around her.

"Tired?" he whispered as Mitch started another argument with Liam. Meanwhile, Jeff floated around, looking at the dark sky, and Sarah sat by the steps with the water up to her neck, laughing at Mitch.

"A bit," Y/N admitted. Harry was also starting to get tired. "I think I’m going to head upstairs and get into bed," she announced. "You guys stay here if you like. Just make sure to close the doors and turn off the lights." Everyone muttered and waved goodbye.

"I’m going to go as well," Harry confessed, following her. Liam winked at him as he swam past. Y/N slicked her hair back as she stepped out, leaving Mitch and Liam with their mouths open wide. She was unbelievably irresistible, and Harry couldn’t blame them. She had curves in all the right places.

"It’s freezing," she complained, quickly wrapping a towel around her body. Harry followed her, closing the door behind them as they tiptoed, dripping water, up the stairs.

Chapter 6

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 10 months

Text

Same as it ever was 8

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can’t catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner

Note: hello again.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You change out of your work clothes into a pair of old jeans and a fraying sweatshirt. You can smell the smoke from the basement as you huff at the ceiling. Great. You thought maybe having Pete home could at least spare you a few minutes to lay down. As usual, you have to save the day he's spoiled. Not that it was any good before that.

You go upstairs as the fire alarms wails and you hear Simone asking if everything's okay. You come up behind your daughter and gently touch her shoulder, "go read, everything's fine."

Pete pokes the button on the detector with the end of the broom as you hurry in to move the pan from the burner into the sink. The pan is ruined as the breasts stick, burnt to the finish entirely. You shake your head as you face your husband. He looks like a beaten dog as he holds the broom and pouts.

"I'll put some of the frozen nuggets in the oven," you resign, "why don't you set the table or something?"

He mopes and puts the broom back in the closet. He doesn't leave though. He approaches as you open the freezer and take out the breaded processed chicken. You put the bag on the counter and tear it open.

"I'm sorry, babe. I'm really... I'm trying."

"I don't want you to try, Pete, get it through your head," you whisper sharply, "I don't want you. At all."

He sputters as you refuse to look at him. You pull out a baking sheet and spread out the nuggets. He watches, helpless and stunned.

"You can't mean that," he mewls.

"What am I supposed to want with you?" You ask, "You blew it. We both did. It's done. We just... get through for the kids. For the company, until you can pay me alimony."

"Huh?" He chokes on the noise.

"Mom," Simone jolts you as she chimes from the doorway. You and Pete turn in unison. "That idiot with the lip fur is outside."

You frown as Pete gives another confused utter. "Who-- he is?"

"He knocked but I told him to go away," she shrugs, "don't think he got the message."

"Simone," you look at Pete as he furrows his brow. "My boss..."

"What the hell is your boss doing here?" Pete asks.

"I wouldn't know," you answer dryly.

You march out of the kitchen, past Simone as you go to the front window and peer out. You see Hansen inspecting your mailbox before he jams the doorbell. Great.

You go to the door with your daughter and husband trailing you. This is the last thing you need. How dare he come there and disturb your family. He gets eight hours a day to torture you. And you haven't eaten, you're about to fall over.

You swing the door open, ready to eviscerate him but stopping short. You can't do that. Not least of all because Simone is right there.

"Mr. Hansen," you greet airily, "what can I do for you?"

"Ah, nice to see you too," he eyes Pete over your shoulder as Simone stands beside you.

"Wish she could say the same," Simone sneers, "I told you to go away."

"Sim," you reproach, you're starting to think she gets that from you. "Mr. Hansen..."

"You're the boss? What're you doing here?" Pete asks, gripping the door frame as he' stands almost right against your back.

"You must be the old man," Hansen smirks, "didn't the wife tell you? She got a promotion."

"Huh, old man-- promotion?" Pete reels aloud. "No."

You swallow and suck in air. Just go along with it. One wrong step and he might just tell the truth for once.

"I haven't had the chance, we've been making dinner," you simper sourly.

"Well, I wish I could say I'm just here to say congrats but business calls," Hansen checks his watch.

"It's six-thirty," Pete scoffs.

"Oh, you know, the big boys, it's a business dinners and useless small talk but gotta put on a good face." He looks at you and a line forms between his brows, "so better go doll yourself up."

"Wha-- right now?"

"I called you. Several times. You didn't pick up. Your problem, not mine. Let's go," he snaps your fingers.

"Mommy," Malik's voice startles you as he squeezes between you and Simone, "oh! Mommy!"

He whimpers and clings to your leg as he gapes up at Hansen, hiding behind you like he did when he was younger.

"I told you he's evil," Simone grumbles.

"Alright, everybody, inside," you declare as you raise your hands, "Mr. Hansen, please, just, give me a couple minutes."

"I've given you a few already but suppose I can't take you to dinner with grease on your shirt."

You look down at the new stain on your sweatshirt. Of course. You back up and close the door, turning to face your family, crowded in the entryway, bearing down on you.

"Okay, here's what's going to happen. Pete, put the chicken in, twenty minutes, make sure you flip them so they don't stick. Simone, keep an eye on Malik, please, help him with his homework, honey. Mal," you pause and untangle your son from you, "be good, please."

"Are you leaving?" He pouts.

"I have to."

"What the he--ck," Pete corrects himself before he can swear, "you're just going with him?"

"He's my boss, Pete," you snip, "I don't have much of a choice. I need the money. We both do. I doubt it'll be all night. A dinner, easy."

You know it's probably not what Hansen says it is but you're not going to unveil that deception. It's better to go along. You hate to lie to your family but you'd feel worse to let them down.

"Great, so you get to go out and have a fancy dinner and I have to stay here?"

"Pete," you sniff, "you're a father, start acting like it." You stop yourself, "Simone, Malik, please, go watch some TV."

Simone frowns as she peeks between you and your husband. You see the suspicion and anxiety sparking in her. She takes Malik's hand and takes him into the living room.

"I'll bring leftovers, happy?"

"That guy looks like a real scuzz bucket," he growls.

"Oh, please, you've spent how long staying late to go to dinners and be with Miss Panties or No Panties," you snarl, "don't start because I have to miss one night."

"Honey," he changes his tone, "I can't-- what do I do?"

"What do you do? Figure it out," you shoulder past him, done with the argument. You haven't won, you have to go put up with Hansen.

"Babe," Pete calls after you.

"I'm sure you could ask Simone, even a twelve year old can figure it out," you toss over your shoulder as you stomp upstairs.

🗄️

You pull on a plain black skirt that ends at your knees, of the few you have among your wardrobe. You match it with a lamb gray blouse and a blazer you can’t button. You try your best to refresh your hair and face but at this point, there’s not much you can do about it.

You come downstairs and slip into a pair of round-toed flats as Pete watches silently. You know he wants to argue. You don’t want to go either but you’re sure as shit not telling him that. Let him suffer while you do the same.

“I’ll try not to be too late,” you shrug on your coat and hook your purse over your shoulder, “Malik, don’t give your father a hard time at bathtime and Simone, do your math. You can’t read all night.”

You reach for your phone and spin back for the door. Pete catches you, holding you at arm’s length. His blue eyes cling to yours with a glimmer of desperation.

“Love ya, honey,” he says, “I really do.”

You gulp and put your chin up. The kids are there. You try not to let your loathing tighten in your cheeks, “love you too…” you eke out and clear your through. “Love you all.” You pull away from him and smile at Simone and Malik, “have a good night.”

You quickly turn away and scurry to the door. Something about the moment leaves you breathless. The realisation that your family is hanging by a fraying thread. You pull the door shut as you come out to find Hansen leaning on the hood of his sports care. Is that douche bag red?

You come up the walk as he watches you with a smirk, “adorable, got the whole clan home.”

“Please,” you grumble, “let’s just get out of here. Far away.”

He stands up straight, “already jonesing for more, huh?”

“No, I just don’t want you near my family,” you retort.

He cackles and the car chirps as it unlocks. He goes around the driver side as you approach the passenger’s. You open the door and get into the low seat. You don’t like the incline of the seat or the smell of the air freshener. Everything about him is unbearable.

He jams his index into the ignition, hitting the button to turn the engine. He sits back and rests a hand lazing on the bottom of the steering wheel as he pulls out slowly. You buckle the seat belt and stare ahead.

“I’m sorry I didn’t answer the phone–”

“Good start, toots, but a better one would be your hand in my pants,” he snickers.

You cringe and put your purse between your feet. You strain against the seat belt and lean over the stick shift. As you reach for him, he swats you away and growls. You retract, annoyed.

“I thought–”

“You know, I was thinking of just driving you to the Wendy’s parking lot and sticking it in,” he cruises well past the speed limit as he remains casually reclined, “but that seems too easy.”

You grit your teeth. He’s mocking you. He slaps his hand on your knee and drags it up your thigh, rumbling your skirt.

“I didn’t know you owned one of these,” he pinches the hem, “you really got yourself prettied up, huh?”

You don’t say anything.

“Can I make a suggestion? Doesn’t matter, I’m gonna. Try something shorter. You got the tight part but this is something my fourth grade librarian would wear. Oh, and lace. Or silk.”

You want to scream at him. Does he really think you can afford all that? That you want your ass or tits hanging out in front of your daughter? He knows all that, he’s once again making a joke of you.

“Aw, tootsie roll, am I upsetting you? Well, that’s real fucking shit,” his voice goes rigid, “I was pretty upset listening to your voicemail on fucking repeat.”

“Sorry, I told you–”

“I don’t care. Busy? Not in my world. Let’s get this straight, the only thing you’ll be busy with is me. Or… I think Petey Boy may just love to hear all about your workplace antics. I mean really, he should be proud, you’re fucking skilled. That man, I see why he put a ring on it. Wherever it is… Shit…” he skids to a stop at a sign and looks at you, “you didn’t have to pawn it off? That’s goddamn sad, honey buns.”

You inhale and lift your chin. That would be a better story than the truth. Besides, you have a feeling he doesn’t genuinely care.

“I’ll buy you a new diamond. Two of them, one for each titty,” he chortles as he steps on the gas again, “what’s your birthstone? I’ll get that for your ass.”

“Mr. Hansen, I understand you’re upset. I didn’t listen. I didn’t answer the phone, but I can’t just leave my family–”

“You will do whatever I tell you,” he interjects, “first, you’re going to stop. No more excuses, you figure it out. Second,” he veers into a lot, just behind an unmarked office building, “you’re going to loosen the fuck up.”

He steers around to the back of the lot, parking slightly crooked and across the lines. There aren’t too many other cars this time of evening. He turns off the engine and rolls his shoulders. Well, it’s not a Wendy’s at least.

“Get in the back,” he orders.

You want to ask what or why but you know better. You get out and open the back door. You sit on the end of the seat.

“Lay down,” he says, still facing forward.

You glance at him, slightly confused. You slide up the seat and recline. His seat belt snaps back against the interior and his door opens. Gravel crunches under his soles and his shadow passes between the car and the streetlights. He darkens the open back door.

“Pull your fucking skirt up,” he orders in exasperation, as if you should’ve done so already.

You lift your shoulders and reach down to tug at your skirt. It’s hard to get it up, it’s tight and uncomfortable, you should’ve thrown it out. You feel the zipper about to burst. Impatiently, he shoves the hem up as he bends over the seat.

You’re suddenly very self-conscious as you realise what he’s going to do. He holds himself between your thighs as his hand crawls up to your panties. High-rise cotton underwear that balloon a bit too much around your pelvis.

“Sir, I’ll just take care of you,” you insist as you try to sit up.

“Fuck off,” he snarls, “lay down.”

You blink as your lip twitches. You can’t remember the last time Pete did that. You’re not okay. You don’t want Hansen down there. You really don’t want anyone at this point.

“Really, Mr.--”

“Lay the fuck back and shut up while I eat your pussy,” he grabs your panties and yanks, jolting you.

You fall back as he forces the fabric down. He growls and rips along the seam. You close your eyes and tense. As he exposes you, your thighs quiver.

He presses his face against your leg, his mustache tickling you as his breath dampens your skin. You swallow a shiver. You’re oversensitive and strung out. You squeeze your eyes tight and focus on your breath as he nuzzles and nips up towards your cunt.

You clench as he gets closer. Without thinking, you push your hand to his head as you try to stop him. Your heart is racing. Why is this harder than what you’ve already done?

He snatches your hand and throws your arm over the edge of the seat. You wince as he bites into your tender thigh. You squeak and he growls, his nose grazing up to your lips. You hold your breath as he closes in.

His tongue flicks up and you gasp. He glides between your folds, delving into you, humming so it rumbles through you. You raise your hand to grip the back of the seat. You forgot how nice this felt.

He takes it slow. A patience you’ve never seen in him as he dotes on your clit, swirling back and forth, suckling, dipping his tongue up and down your lips, lapping up your flowing delight. You quiver as you sink into the sensation, almost forgetting the man who’s inspired it.

His hand creeps up to your blouse, beneath your open jacket, and he squeezes your chest through the fabric. You wiggles his head back and forth as his tending grows more intense. He spreads his tongue wide and groans, his mouth slurping and sucking noisily.

The heat spreads into your thighs and tingles up your back. You arch your spine and dig your nails into the seat. You puff as you feel a climax rising. Hansen stretches his other hand over your stomach, pinning you down as he devours you ravenously.

You’re tipped over the edge, letting out a series of squeaks and squawks as you give into the orgasm. You’re dizzy from the sheer ecstasy of the moment, of his still lapping tongue, not stopping even as you cry out. He keeps on, urged on by your helpless moans. As in everything, it’s never enough for him.

#lloyd hansen #pete brenner #dark lloyd hansen #dark pete brenner #dark!lloyd hansen #dark!pete brenner #lloyd hansen x reader #pete brenner x reader #same as it ever was #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #the gray man #pain hustlers

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degreedummy · 9 months

Text

Leo/Cancer 12H + 12H Sun/Moon

Getting too comfortable in your current conditions or refusing to acknowledge how your needs have developed out of fear of looking selfish will make following your desires almost completely impossible.

For Leo 12H/12H Sun, I think you have a habit of only allowing your confidence to extend as far as people validate it, refusing to set yourself up to be the punchline of a joke you have a habit of seeing yourself as. With your ego being cast into the shadows, the only time you allow your confidence to breathe is when someone passes by with a torch. You've become accustomed to cherishing your talents in the dark so much so that you've never taken the time to explore practicing them freely.

For Cancer 12H/12H Moon, you have a habit of saying yes to every demand in a panicked attempt to avoid any conflict. Putting your needs on the back burner, you tend to only focus on making sure everyone around you succeeds no matter what, even if that means moving past you. You have a habit of being prepared for abandonment, finding your role in society to be one of an unpaid psychologist, traveling the world trying to survive off of the wished-for reciprocation that you never actually ask for.

You find no shame in second place because you know how to turn it into a platform to embolden the winner, setting your pride aside to allow them to have their day, but I think the comfort of never having the light shone on you has become detrimental to your cause. I think you find pride in being able to let pain go easily, but there tends to be a twisted past behind this habit, most usually a refusal for your original comforts to be met by people who promised you more than they were ever actually willing to give you.

You call victim to false promises, to a point that it almost feels like you intentionally fulfill your half to hear whatever pretty words they have prepared for you, completely submitting to the comfort while ignoring the backhanded disloyalty being slid in under it. There isn't anything you won't do for somebody you love, except for letting them go and allowing them to face the consequences of their own actions. You have a habit of stepping in between your friends and their fate.

You put no second thought into sacrificing whatever you have left to make sure the rest of the village eats for the night, even if that means going on hunger strike for the fifth night this week, and you need to learn when to stop. You're naturally altruistic, wanting nothing more than to see the people you love succeed, but you need to become more comfortable in questioning what that love is built on before trying to polish a rock like it's a statue. You don't need people as much as they convince you, they only recognize what they're losing without you, and you can't take it away if you're not aware of it. You're not aware of your power because you use it to apologize for not being even better.

I think part of you knows that you can let go at any time, refusing to answer the phone and accepting whatever reputation comes with it, but that's exactly why it bothers you. You never want to be known as the person who didn't help.

You never want to be known as the person who became everything they hated in the people they promised to be better than. You never want that one wrong interaction to be the career-defining moment that means nothing else you do will be taken seriously. At some point, you need to recognize your reputation isn't as fragile as the relationships people love to entrap you in. You are not either good or bad, you do not have irredeemable qualities, your willingness to try harder is all you need.

No matter how slanderous someone can be, the collective will be able to see the quality of your character through the veil of lies your own friends warn you against to keep you around. You are not helpless, people who benefit from your intentionally limited potential find comfort in enforcing your helplessness, and you need to be able to recognize the cause of the cycle if you truly want to break it.

You can't find comfort in consolation prizes and participation trophies, especially when you know the votes were intentionally mishandled to steal the win for someone else. You are not selfish for expecting, and enforcing, payment for your services. Stop working for free to make up for not working in advance, because none of the work being done is advancing you in life. Break away from people who see no value in you past what you can do for them.

#leo #cancer #leo12h #cancer12h #12hsun #12hmoon #astro observations #astro community #astro chart #astrologer #astrology #12h #natal chart

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ellieluvr420 · 8 months

Text

We meet again, darling pt.10 (detective Abby Anderson x criminal reader)

Synopsis: Abby Anderson is a skilled detective that's never let a criminal escape her grasp, until you. You've infiltrated every part of her life and she still can't get you. As she grows more and more intrigued by you she finds herself descending further into darkness until there's no way back. She takes your hand and follows you as if your presence is the only thing giving her life knowing that you are the most dangerous thing for her. Her life will never be hers again and she will stop at nothing to keep following you down your path of corruption.

Abby woke up alone again Monday morning, she immediately jumped out of bed panicked until she walked into the kitchen to find you standing at her coffee pot.

"Oh you're awake! Figured you'd need some of this before work." Abby breathes a sigh of relief as she takes the mug you're handing to her, she takes a sip without thinking and notices its exactly how she likes it.

"You're really fucking creepy."

"What?" You scoff.

"How do you know how I like my coffee?"

"Don't ask questions you don't want the answer to."

"Okay... I'm going to get ready. Thanks for the coffee." She pulls you into a hug by your waist and kisses the top of your head. As she's walking away you call her name and she turns back to you.

"I want you to start mission take over today, only the first package but it's time to start, look through it before you go to work and be as subtle as you can okay?" She nods and smiles at you. "Oh and can you keep an eye on Williams please? I listened to her phone back whoever she called and she did a good job taking back what she said about you but we still need to air on the side of caution."

"Got it."

"Okay, thank you. I need to go. Places to be, people to see. Call me on this when you're home. My numbers already in it." You place a burner phone down on the counter next to you and begin gathering your things at the door. "See you soon Abby."

"Yeah, see you soon." With that you were out of the door and she walked in her room to rip the parcel open. She put some gloves on just to be safe and opened the first package. There was a picture of a man moving drugs and weapons as well as pictures of him doing deals. There was a picture of his passport as well as pictures of him at his address with the address written on the back. There was an anonymous tip she assumed you had written with an envelope that had her precincts P.O box's address written on as well as 'Please hand this to a detective, help me'. When she read the tip she was impressed by your story. You had written as if you were a prostitute he had used and abused one too many times, you wrote that you were turning this in because he had threatened your life and you were terrified. "God you're good." She muttered to herself as she put everything in the envelope and ripped the piece of plastic off the sticky part of the envelope, noting that you didn't use a lick to seal envelope, and closed it.

Abby looked at the time and realised she needed to get a move on so she jumped in the shower only to jump back out again because the water was so hot she felt like her skin was going to melt off. She looked at the temperature dial and assumed you had showered before she woke up. "Of course you need your showers to burn your skin." She turns the shower down so the water is lukewarm and gets in for the second time. Abby had never liked hot showers, they always made her feel her sick. As she's throwing on her clothes and pulling her hair back into a ponytail she notices the small bruises over her neck accompanied by a faint bite mark. "For fuck's sake." She buttons her shirt up to the top and breathes a sigh of relief that they're all covered, she puts on a tie so the shirt doesn't look strange buttoned to the top and cringes at herself in the mirror. She's always dressed smart for work but she never wears a tie. She grabs everything she needs including the handcuffs she had used on your last night while giggling at the memory and goes to the coffee pot to fill her thermos. She tucks it into her bag and grabs her breakfast that she had meal prepped earlier in the week from the fridge and rushes out of the door.

Everything is going to plan until the elevator opens at her floor to get in and she's greeted by the elderly woman that lives above her flat. She huffs and walks in and tries to avoid any interaction with the bitter woman. The woman had never liked her since she moved in, she's old fashioned and assumed Abby was a lesbian from the way she looked. She was right but the assumption still pissed Abby off.

"You know if you're going to be engaging in sexual activities late at night, you could at least do your neighbours a favour and keep it down." Abby choked as she's caught completely off guard. She laughs and sees the woman scowl at her. "I don't know what you're laughing at, I should not be forced to listen to you and your sinning." Abby's face dropped at that comment.

"It was no later than 8pm... when we started, and do you think I enjoy hearing your awful game shows and soaps playing at full volume constantly throughout the day. Or the constant thumping of your walking stick that I swear you just use to annoy me because I've seen you walk fine." She turns and bends down to be eye level with the woman and smirks as the woman steps back. "I'm sorry that you feel like who I sleep with is a sin, but if you mention it to me again, you will see where you think I'm going all for yourself. I'll send you there and then I'll find you there too." She gives the woman a menacing smile and as she's walking out in front of the woman she laughs and says over her shoulder. "I'll tell her to be 10 times louder next time."

As she walks to work smiling about the look on her elderly neighbours face she realises you've rubbed off on her. She threatened to kill her and didn't bat an eye at it. Her stomach churns but she reassures herself that the woman deserved it for her hateful comments and pushes it to the back of her mind and besides she'd never actually do it.

Abby walks into work, trying to ignore the way her palms are sweating. She walks straight past Ellie but doesn't miss the dirty looks being thrown her way. If looks could kill she'd be a dead woman. She sits at her desk and pulls out the envelope, she focuses on being as convincing as possible as she reads the tip and flips through the pictures. She glances up at Ellie once to find she's already staring back at her and gets up to knock on her captain's office door.

"Come in."

"Morning sir, I thought you'd want to see this." She hands the envelope and its contents to him and he starts reading the note before flicking through the pictures. "I checked the P.O box on the way in, always do." That wasn't a lie she had always checked it every morning on her way to her desk. "This was in there."

"Hm, we should check this out immediately. Whoever wrote this thinks they don't have long before he finds them so let's not waste any time. Leave it with me, I'll let you know when it's time to head out."

"I'm coming?"

"Yes. Don't make me regret that."

"No sir, I won't. I promise."

"Good, I'll walk you out I need to go arrange a raid."

Abby walks out of the Captains office and he follows behind her. As she sits at her desk he nods at her and walks off with an urgency in his step. She goes back to the paperwork she didn't finish on Friday until she notices Ellie standing at her desk, scowling down at her.

"Everything okay Williams?"

Ellie bends down and lowers her voice to a whisper, a hiss really. "Don't give me that shit. Your little girlfriend paid me a visit."

"No idea what you mean." Ellie slams her hand down on the desk and Abby looks up at her face for the first time. "Don't be stupid, Ellie. You wanna go talk somewhere private? Fine. But you need to back the fuck off and stop drawing attention to us both."

"Meet me in the toilet in 2 minutes." She storms off and Abby goes back to her paperwork. She tries to be as unsuspicious as possible as she walks to the toilet 2 minutes later to find Ellie pacing. "I should report you, I should get you thrown in jail."

"Yeah you do that and then she kills everyone you love" Abby has no hint of emotion in her face, she's completely monotone.

"Do you even hear yourself? That's who you want to go into business with. I don't even think I actually believe she would do that. You have to be some next level fucked up for shit like that."

"Trust me when I say she would. Don't be an idiot, do what she says and no one gets hurt and you end up richer for it. Its a win win."

"Oh my god, you're as bad as her. You don't even care that's she a cold-blooded killer. I bet she killed Luke, right? That's why he's disappeared." Abby shrugs and Ellie grabs her stomach like she's trying not to be sick. "What the fuck has she got you doing for her?"

"Nothing you need to be concerned with. I'm done talking about this Ellie." She backs Ellie up against the wall and grabs her by the shoulder as hard as she can. "Don't fuck things up for us and you'll be fine and so will everyone you love. She keeps her word, make good on your end of the deal and she'll make good on hers." Abby practically growled the words out and then stood back and smiled at Ellie as she patted the shoulder she had squeezed and walked out without another word.

Over the next few weeks, you would tell Abby when to feed the parcels to the investigation and the Metorinni was collapsing, fast. You were right when you said they would all turn on each other so between your evidence and their confessions, the gang was dwindling. Ellie's vicious demeanour towards Abby had only worsened and Abby had only felt better and better. Her captain was commending her for her work any chance he could and that respect she had harboured from her peers was back in full force. She had seen you a lot throughout the weeks and you had shown your gratitude to her for what she was doing time and time again. She had never felt this sort of power but now she had she vowed that she would never go back.

You're sitting in Richter's living room drinking with him, celebrating the downfall of the Metorinni when Richter gets a very serious look on his face.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" You nod with a small puzzled expression on your face. "How did you do it?"

"Do what?" He tilts his head at your obvious feigned ignorance.

"How did you get the cops to take them down?"

"Have you ever considered they did it all on their own?"

"Don't be like that. We don't keep secrets and I know you're keeping a big one from me right now. Whatever you've done its working but I need to know."

"Fine. I have a cop on our side. She's been feeding all of my information on them to her team, so that we can put them down and take what's theirs without too much fuss."

"How did you get a cop on our side? Blackmail or money?"

"Bit of both, kind of neither. Remember that party we had here and that woman that crashed it with a gun to my head."

"She was a cop?" You nod and sip your drink. "And she's working for us now?" And another nod. "Damn, you never cease to amaze me."

"Don't be too proud yet." His face drops. "Don't panic, its dealt with but I'm telling you so its on your radar. Another cop, woman called Ellie Williams, caught on to Abby. She's cunning, I actually think she could be a good asset. I did what I do best and made sure she stays quiet but I'm telling you in case we have to go a different way to deal with her if she gets stupid."

"Okay, so you've got two cops on our payroll now."

"I guess you could say that yeah."

"You are unbelievable." He laughs and then goes quiet. "Do you trust her? The one from the party."

"Yes. I do, she's different Johnny. She's one of us, I'm just making her realise it." You grin as you drink the last of what's in your glass and he chuckles too. "I might make her do the next kill, just to really seal the deal."

"You're evil."

"Tell me something I haven't heard before."

psa: I am SO excited to write the next two chapters. I really hope anyone who has read this far is enjoying it as much as I'm enjoying writing it. For the people that are interacting with the posts, thank you so much you guys are too cute!

#abby anderson #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x reader #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby x reader #tlou abby #abby x fem!reader #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson tlou2 #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us

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gremlin-bot · 2 years

Text

Growth of Trial and Error

So, I lied about this being put on the back burner apparently. It feels so good to post this after working on it for like two months. I hope y'all enjoy this 5 + 1 fic that was bate read by the wonderful @half-dead-ham !!! This fic also connects my other fics in my 'Petals and Arrays of The Dead and Those Yet To Be' series.

AO3 Link: here

—------ 1

Danny and Tim have been dating for a little over a month and a half. In that time they have tried to have a date night once every week… It ends up once every two weeks with random visits for a cuddle date. Danny blames the Observants and Gotham rogues for being bitches. There's only so many times that the restaurant they have reservations at somehow gets hit in an attack before they just give up on restaurants all together.

This is one of those cuddle dates. Danny was laying with his eyes closed on Tim's couch with a star pattern blanket wrapped around him. He's waiting for Tim to get back to back with popcorn so they can watch the Knives Out movies. Why would Tim want to watch murder mysteries when he literally helps solve crime as his nightly activities Danny would never get, that being said he had no room to talk. He himself often fights ghosts for fun now. It's good stress relief from royal duties.

Speaking of royal duties, Danny was sick of paperwork and meetings. Being Ghost King was one almost useless meeting after another with even more useless paperwork to go with each one. He swears, if the Observants ask for another meeting about making more court trials he will find a way to revive them from never being alive and end them himself. All that doesn't matter at the moment because he has a tired boyfriend to cuddle, once he stops taking so long in the kitchen.

Danny opens his eyes to see Tim with a small loving smile on his face. One that Danny can't help but return.

"Aww, it's almost like you got flowers in your lungs for me again!" Danny teases

"Hey! You have no room to talk, Mr. Blood Blossoms!" Tim's blush only gets worse with Danny's light laughter.

"Yeah, yeah and I'll never live that down." Tim rolls his eyes at the pun. Why did he have to bring another person who likes puns into his life, wasn't Dick enough? Danny lifts one side of the blanket.

"Come on sweetheart, get in here." Now how can Tim say no to that? He sets down the popcorn and the veggie tray Bruce insisted they have. Tim dives into Danny and settles in for a good old murder mystery.

They get half way through the first movie when things go wrong.

"God these guys are assholes, you'd think that after hearing one person getting excluded they would worry about the possibility of it happening to themselves!" Danny says, grabbing a handful of popcorn from its bowl.

"I hate that I've met people like this at galas." Tim groans.

"I hope they crash and burn. Marta deserves the inheritance at this point." Danny ends his point by popping pieces of popcorn in his mouth.

As the scene on screen changes, so does the one in Tim's living room. Danny really can't have a nice day off.

A ripping sound is hard over the cacophony of the TV. A portal to the Infinite Realms appears next to it, effectively ruining their cuddle date night. As the Observant floats out into the living room, Danny can't help but feel like he is forgetting something.

…Oh, oh no.

Danny realized what he forgot to tell Tim.

He is the ghost king and Tim has no fucking clue.

Oh Ancients, Tim is going to kill him a second time. That's a future Danny problem, present Danny has to handle an Observant with an uninformed vigilante boyfriend laying on top of him.

Tim has yet to move as he is in his civvies but Danny can feel him tensing. In an attempt at comfort and making sure Tim stays in place, Danny squeezes Tim to his chest and lets out soft rumbling from his core. A signal to the other that everything will be okay, he still doesn't relax.

The Observant was impatiently waiting for Danny's acknowledgement. It doesn't wait long, not because Danny answered but because it ran out of the little bit of patience it had in the first place. The mutual disdain the Observants and Danny hold for each other is great, but Danny will always commit more than the Observants. So yes, Danny could make this easier for himself and Tim, but no. He has principals!

"King Phantom, us Observants wish to schedule a meeting with you regarding the court-'' the eyeball in a sad imagination of jello didn't get to finish its request. It got cut off by Danny's sigh.

"If it's about the same thing as before, no. As stated in the Court Acts section 12a, you can't give out Court hearings without proper approval by an Ancient and myself. Nor can a trial proceed without a pre-approved Ancient or ghost of similar position from outside the Observant branch." Danny's blank stare fixed itself on the unwanted goo encased eyeball, daring it to rebuttal.

"Yes, of course King Phantom. I will tell the others." The Observant grits out. Its goo flesh scrunching in a poor imitation of a disgruntled face. It rips open a portal to the Infinite Realms and leaves without further pestering.

Danny lifts his arm. He can hear Tim's mind trying to piece together what happened.

"Hey, Tim? Beloved? Are you good?" Danny is starting to think that this might have broken his boyfriend. It's been a good 30 seconds since The Observant left and Tim hasn't moved. Maybe he's rebooting? As Danny is pondering the mental state of the man he's supposed to be cuddling, said man decided to roll off of him landing in a crouch.

Tim looks Danny in the eyes and says with all his heart, "What the fuck, Danny?!"

Oh Danny might be a little fucked.

—--------

Tim is going to kill and revive his boyfriend for a second time, if he doesn't explain right now.

"So, I may have forgotten to tell you something important." Danny placates.

"Oh! What gave it away? The probable high powered ghost that portaled into my living room and broke the TV in the middle of our date, or the fact you responded to them with higher authority!" Tim's sass is amplified by the TV blinking to life and giving a static scream.

Danny breathes in through clenched teeth, face slightly scrunched. It was adorable, making it hard for Tim to stay upset. "I'm sorry Tim. I didn't mean to keep anything from you, I just forgot you didn't know already and I just don't talk about it by default. You know I'm not used to not being around my parents and they don't know about any of-"

"Danny, hun, you're starting to ramble. I know how it is with your parents but please explain now.”

“Sorry, I’ll start at the beginning. So, you know how I told you how I became a teen hero after my half-death.”

“Yeah…” Tim switches from crouching to sitting on the floor, eyes squinting at Danny with suspicion. He doesn’t like where this is going.

“So, there was this one time my town was pulled into the infinite realms by the old ghost king. So I had to fight him. I won in the end but, Oh the consequences of these actions."

"Oh no."Tim said quietly, reeling at the possibilities of what the downfall of a king could be.

"Fun fact, the right to the throne is earned through trial by combat. It would have been fine if not for the Realms showing affection for me. You can't argue with the semi-sentient realm between realms," Danny sighed.

“Semi-sentient in what way??! How did it show affection for you?? What do you mean it would have been fine??" What exactly was Danny involved with? Tim thought it was just ghost wrangling. He knew he should have tried harder to contact Constantine about ghosts. Doesn't matter at the moment, nothing could have prepared him for this.

"I don't know how but the Infinite Realms are just like that. It might have to do with the fact that it's where all the dead end up, so technically all lands of the dead, but I just work there." Danny shrugged, all too used to the Infinite Realms' brand of being.

"Danny, Alnilam, my dearest boyfriend, I mean this with my entire heart and soul, what the fuck?" Tim lets his head slump into Danny's arm. He was done for the day and the next two after that. He just wants to watch some murder mysteries with Danny and deal with the Ghost King shit later. It was the first day off of both Wayne Enterprises and any major case he’s had in weeks.

The TV's static increased in volume for a moment before setting down, as if mocking him. He side eyes the TV.

"Sweetheart, if you stop glaring at the TV and give me like 5 minutes, I can fix it." Danny lightly chuckled.

"Fine, I want to see if I'm right about what is actually going on." Tim knows who did it, he's just waiting to be proven right.

"Hey! Don't spoil it!! Not everyone is a smartass." Danny sheds the blanket as he stands, "Are you going to join me on the couch when I'm done, or are you brooding?"

"Yet here you are calling me a smartass." Tim rolled his eyes. Switching from the floor to the couch and stealing Danny's blanket in the process. He's allowed to be a bit petty. It's what he deserves after this ordeal and the ones to come when they talk in depth, but that's for later. Right now, he gets to go back to watching murder mysteries with his boyfriend.

—------- 2

Danny woke up the next day with Tim's head on his chest and a crick in his neck. That's what he gets for falling asleep during cuddle night. Carefully, he reaches for his phone, trying his best to not wake up Tim. Ancients knows how much that boy needs sleep.

Checking the time Danny sighs. He has a meeting with the Ancients in half an hour. Looks like he will have to wake him up… or turn intangible and let him be. Danny debates for a minute before deciding fuck it. He makes himself intangible slowly, eventually Tim is laying on the couch still peacefully asleep.

He carefully floats out of Tim's space and onto the floor. Turning tangible turns into a problem, as Danny apparently can't watch where he pops into existence. His foot ends up in his water bottle. Losing his balance he falls and hits the floor hard, this of course wakes up Tim.

"Danny, what are you doing?" Tim groggily asks.

"Trying not to wake you up while I leave for a meeting. As you can see, I failed." Danny says from the floor, not having moved yet. "I'm just going to transform right here on the floor in shame"

"Transform?" Tim blinked, adjusting so he could fully look at Danny.

"Yeah, so I can get to the meeting on time... Wait. Tim, did you forget that I can transform?" Danny sits up, making eye contact with Tim.

"No I didn't forget, you never told me!"

"I told you the night we started dating," Danny laughs.

"Okay maybe I forgot, but it's not my fault," Tim counters.

"Oh, and how is that?" Danny teases.

"Well someone told me that he was getting severely injured by the Blood Blossoms that were in his lungs. So, forgive me for missing some details!"

"Okay, okay, you win. I did go to my ghost doctor after, you know.”

"Good. Don't you have a meeting to get to?"

"Oh shit! Close your eyes, my transformation is a bit bright." Danny shoots up and transforms in the process. Grabbing his things around the room he almost missed Tim's reaction. If it wasn't for Tim's gasp.

Danny turns to face Tim, his face is flushed as his eyes take in Danny's ghost form. Danny's growing smirk just makes Tim's blush darker.

"See something you like?" Danny teases, his smirk growing wicked.

"Shut up and go to your meeting!!" Tim throws a throw pillow at Danny, only for Danny to turn intangible. He didn't even have the decency to dodge.

"I'm going now, goodbye sweetheart." Danny rips open a portal with his claws, diving through just as he hears Tim's goodbye.

—---------- 3

It took two weeks for Tim to succumb to the need for information. Danny should have expected this from one of the world's greatest detectives, but the call he received at 4:16am was still a jarring surprise. He almost fell out of bed trying to answer his phone. Tim is lucky that he wasn't asleep yet.

After a slight struggle, Danny finally answered the call "Tim, sweetheart, what could you need at this fine 4am?"

"Are you technically a god? Because according to this glowing book I got my hands on-" Tim sounds like he's been on a research binge for an unhealthy amount of time.

"Please tell me you didn't use your vigilante status to steal a book about the Infinite Realms from the Justice League's magic team or whatever they’re called."

"I may have but anyway- wait." Tim stopped mid sentence, like he was reviewing information. Danny has no clue what it could be, but he did know that it would make the conversion complicated. "I didn't tell you I was a vigilante. How did you figure it out?"

"You don't change your voice at all when ordering coffee as Red Robin." Danny says flatly.

"That's fair and also explains why you were okay with me canceling dates last minute. I should invest in a voice changer or something."

"I think you'll be fine, sweetheart. I have a habit of remembering voices of people I’m crushing on, and heightened hearing makes that a little easier."

"If you say so… I'm still gonna look into it." Danny can hear Tim's typing pick up. At this rate the both of them won't be going to sleep anytime soon.

"I'm not going to ask how long you've been awake, but for your own health and mine please stop researching and get some rest. Even the dead are asleep right now." Danny pleads. He knows that they both have things to do later in the day, and Danny doesn't want to fall asleep during his classes.

Tim sighs, "Fine, but after your class tomorrow can you actually answer all my questions?"

"Yes, Hun. Now get away from the computer and go to bed." Danny lightly chuckled.

"I’m going, I'm going." Danny can hear the eye roll in Tim's voice. "Night Danny, sweet dreams."

"Goodnight Tim." Danny smiled as the call ended. Glad that he could get his workaholic boyfriend to go to bed, he relaxes back into his own bed and lets sleep take him.

—------- 4

Tim was on the fire escape connected to Danny's apartment. Hoping to break in and set up his notebooks and other things he collected in his research into the Ghost King and by association the Infinite Realms. Unfortunately for him Danny's last class ended early, as can be seen as Danny entering his own apartment the same time Tim crawls through the window. Tim knows he looks like a kid caught red-handed faking a nonexistent Uncle, Danny's deadpan stare didn't make it better.

"Hey, Danny…" Tim drawls as one of his notebooks falls from his grip to the floor.

"Tim, you could have used the door like a normal person." Danny sighed as he set his bag down. Tim took this time to set up on the floor with his notes spread on the coffee table. "Notebooks? That's not usually your style?"

"Yeah, I would have done my usual spreadsheets and docs but apparently Infinite Realms information crashes any and all tech. So, it's old school for now."

"Oh! Yeah, I forgot about that. I can fix that problem for you while we talk, just give me your tablet, or would you prefer your laptop?"

"Tablet please. Would you mind explaining what you're doing to it while fixing it?" Tim was ecstatic, he loved watching Danny work on his inventions. The methodical way Danny assembled work is a wonderful contrast to how they were made; chaotic and from almost nothing.

Danny's smile was absolutely smitten when he turned back to Tim with his tools. "Of course sweetheart. What do you have to ask me?"

"Okay, so I have a lot, so this is going to take a while." Tim starts as he opens a fresh notebook, pen at the ready.

It was hours of revelations and notebook after notebook. Danny was patient and explained everything the best he could. Tim was pretty sure Danny would ask for his notes after this with how thorough he's being. He honestly wouldn't be this thorough unless it was for a case, but Danny can't remember to tell anyone anything important for the life (death) of him.

"Yeah, parts of the Realms are just kinda ocean-like randomly, so if you visit we have to watch out for that." Danny explained with little fanfare.

"Why are the Infinite Realms like this?" Tim groans emphatically.

"I don't know, man. I just accept and deal with it," Danny replies with a shrug.

"Speaking of things you deal with, you can get summoned, right?"

"Yeah, I can ignore them, technically, but it's like a ringing that keeps getting louder and more annoying till I answer it."

"Huh, interesting. So, does that mean it can be used as an excuse to get out of meetings?" Tim asks with mischief lacing his words

"I… holy shit, I think it can!!!" Tim can see the excitement spread across Danny's face at the realization.

"We are trying it for our next cuddle night, if what is in this book is correct." Tim hands Danny the book he took from Justice League Dark. It's open to a summoning array with instructions underneath it.

"Oh, this is wrong. The array itself is good but the instructions on placement and gifts are either wrong or too vague."

"Oh? I should tell JLD, then."

"Nah, don't. It'll keep me from getting summoned, plus they can always ask you if they need to summon me. Seeing that I'm giving you the correct one."

"Fair, but you better give me all the materials for it then."

"Tim, if it's you summoning me all you need is a small offering and a drop of your blood." Tim looks at Danny in confusion. Danny shakes his head in amusement. "The closer I am to a person, the less required to summon me. At some point all you need is the array and a bit of your blood."

"Oh, that's pretty smart and seems like a perfect way to cause trouble for others" a sly smile spills onto his face, thinking about all the possibilities this could bring.

"Oh, yeah! The amount of times Sam has summoned me at galas is too many to count." Danny's grin is unnaturally wide, with too sharp canines that make Tim swoon as Danny launches into a story of gala shenanigans.

—----- 5

Danny was curled around Tim in his ghost form, acting as an ice pack for his boyfriend's sore ribs. The idiot was overtaxing himself on patrol and took one too many hits. Danny doesn't mind some ghostly cuddling, but he would like it if Tim looked after himself more.

Tim relaxes into Danny more as he types away on his computer. Danny glances at Tim's screen to see that he is looking into the effects the Infinite Realms has on the mortal realm. Which would be sweet if he wasn't using it as a distraction from being banned from current cases.

"Tim, you're supposed to be resting. You know, off the laptop?" Danny lifts his head from Tim's shoulder to actually look at him in the eyes.

Tim sighed, not stopping his typing. "This is resting, I'm barely even hacking into the government."

"Why are you like this?"

"The trauma,” he replied sarcastically. “But anyway, it looks like the government was doing experiments at one point but stopped." Tim hummed as the clicking of the keyboard picked up speed.

“Oh, that’s just the Ghost Investigation Ward.” Danny lets his head drop to his boyfriend’s shoulder, closing his eyes. Tim’s typing only quickened with time and the new information given to him.

“Danny, why are there files about their multiple attempted captures of you, and different files detailing experiment plans that involve vivisecting you‽” Tim was no longer relaxed against Danny’s body.

“I thought they deleted those.” Danny srutines the screen, looking for anything to tell him what has happened to the plans. There in the top right corner is what he was looking for. “Sweetheart, the plans have been defunct, like we worked out when they were getting their shit together.”

“They hunted you for sport,” Tim’s unimpressed stare bore into the side of Danny’s head.

“They got better… morally.Not at the hunting thing,” Danny sighed. “Look, before senior year Tucker, Sam, and I spent the whole summer essentially reforming them. It took a lot of effort but they are ethical now, and even helped fix the shit they wrecked. I promise you they aren't a problem anymore.” Danny pleads.

“Fine.” Tim relents for a moment. "How did you even get them to reform? From what I've read they were pretty biased."

Danny's carefree smile turns sharp. "Blackmail and aggressively shoving evidence to prove them wrong in their faces."

Tim lets out a fond huff as he rolled his eyes, as if he hasn't done worse as Robin. Tim finally lets himself relax, body goes limp against the cold form wrapped around him. A yawn escapes as he feels the pull of sleep cling to him.

“Tired enough to sleep now?” Amusement colored Danny’s voice.

Tim closes his laptop and sets it on a part of the couch not occupied. “Yeah, carry me to bed?”

Danny chuckled as he gently picked up the injured boy and floated them to Tim's bed.

—----- +1

When Tim walked into Danny's apartment he didn't expect to see him putting what was probably Lazarus water into small vials. It looked like he had been doing this for a while. There were several different bags full of the glowing vials with the one he was filling now being one of the last.

"Danny, what are you doing?" Tim asked the dark haired boy, already expecting what the answer might be.

"Remember how I'd said I would look into the Lazarus pits for Jason?" Danny replies as he reaches for more empty vials. Tim hums and moves the vials closer to him. “Turns out to do that I need a shit ton of samples for Frostbite, so here we are.”

Tim sets his things down and settles into helping his boyfriend. "How was dealing with the League of assassins?"

"It was fine. They didn’t notice me, surprisingly.” Danny shrugs, putting more filled vials away.

“I wouldn’t say it was surprising they don’t know about ghosts.” Tim points out.

“Fair. I had a look around, they have a lot of interesting things in their base.”

“Oh, did you take anything besides the lazarus water?” Tim wonders what caught Danny’s attention. From what he remembers it could be just about anything from swords to priceless pieces of art.

“No, but I did see what I’m pretty sure was a spleen in a jar!” Danny’s smile grew almost inhumanly big. “Tim, get this! It was fucking labeled! Labeled!” Danny’s excitement is clear in his voice. Tim couldn’t completely focus on it. He only knows of one spleen that was removed under the care of the league.

“What was it labeled?” Tim asked, nervousness creeping into his voice. Please don’t be his spleen.

Danny’s giggling was barely contained as he answered, “Ra's al Ghul’s emotional support spleen. Outsourced from RR.”

“HE PICKLED MY SPLEEN!!” Tim shouts, startling Danny into almost dropping the vial in his hand.

Danny looks at Tim in confusion for a solid five seconds before Tim saw a look of realization bloom on his face. “Oh Ancients, RR stands for Red Robin. What the fuck! Wait, you’re missing your spleen! How did your spleen end up there??” Danny’s distress only rises as Tim doesn't answer him.

“So. I may have forgotten to tell you something.” Tim says as his clearly innocent smile wobbles with hidden laughter.

“You think so‽” sarcasm dripping from Danny’s voice. “Ancients Tim! Is this how you felt with me?”

“Yes. Suffer.” Tim didn’t mean for this to happen but he will take this happy coincidence for everything it has.

----------- Tag List

@kyrianclawraith , @alice-hazelwood , @phoenixdemonqueen , @may-rbi , @mimilikey , @undead-essence

#dpxdc #tim drake #danny phantom #danny fenton #ghost king danny #5+1 fic #tim drake x danny fenton #Petals and Arrays of The Dead and Those Yet To Be #dp x dc fic #Writing on the walls

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mmmichyyy · 9 months

Text

one phone call

a spiritual companion piece to chapter four of balancing on the ledge - what if they kept in touch when mickey was in mexico?

“Gallagher.”

Ian sits up straight in his bed. Rubs the sleep from his eyes and blinks at his surroundings, adjusting his vision in the dark. A crumpled pack of Marlboros on the nightstand, surrounded by knocked over orange bottles of pills. A lone sock on the floor, from his missed aim at the hamper. A crack of light peeking into his room, reflecting off the snow falling outside the window.

“Gallagher,” the voice over the phone repeats, tinny and far away. “Are you there.”

It's real, he thinks, pinching his arm. This isn't a dream.

“Mickey,” Ian whispers.

A sigh on the other end of the line.

“Hey.”

“Where are you?” Ian asks faintly.

“Can't tell you.” Sounds of a chair shuffling against the floor in the background. Glasses clinking. Muffled voices. A bar, maybe. “I’m alive, though.”

Relief floods his entire body. It's been a while since he heard from Mickey, maybe a couple weeks since he's received a text from an unknown number. Usually it's just a short message, nothing revealing, nothing profound, but every time his phone chimes his heart starts racing in anticipation to seeing Mickey's name on his screen.

Well, not Mickey exactly. Just M or a string of random numbers. Can't be too careful.

“That's good,” Ian manages to say. “I'm glad.”

A moment of silence. A million questions and thoughts run through Ian's head. How are you? What kind of jobs are you doing down there? Are you safe? Tell me you're okay. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.

But he doesn't. Can't get the words out.

“Jesus Gallagher, did you fall asleep on me?”

“No,” Ian says quickly. “No, I'm just… I'm just surprised you called, that's all.”

“Thought you wanted me to call.”

“I do, Mick.” Ian lets out a deep breath. “But I don't want you to get caught.”

“It's fine. I'm using a new burner.” A pause. “I wanted to hear your voice.”

The slight slurring in Mickey's voice makes Ian go still.

“Are you drunk?”

A huff. “Can't get drunk anymore. My tolerance has gone way up since I got here.”

“Mickey.”

“Gallagher.” Ian can practically hear Mickey's eyes rolling from miles away. “I'm fine, okay? Fuck, I don't even know why I called. I knew you didn't give a fuck about–”

“Don't do that,�� Ian cuts him off quietly. “Please, Mick. Don't push me away. I need–” Sighs. “I need to know you're okay.”

“So you can clear your conscience?” Mickey spits out. “So you don't feel guilty for leaving me at the border?”

“You don't think I feel guilty about it every single day?” Ian practically yells. “I do. I think about it all the time. How I could be in Mex– there for you, taking care of you, building our future together. How we could be happy together. But I couldn't come with you. I couldn't drag you down with my shit. If you got caught because of me, I don't think I can live with myself.”

The line on the other end goes quiet. A minute goes by, then another, long enough for Ian’s nerves to shake. Then–

“I don't have a future, Ian,” Mickey finally says, quiet and soft. “This is it for me. This is my life. I'm going to be here for a long time.”

“The heat is going to die down eventually,” Ian whispers. “The charges are bullshit anyway. Everything's going to work out. I promise.”

A small laugh. “You promise, huh.”

Ian has no idea what's going to happen or what the future holds. But what he does know is that this isn't the end of his and Mickey's story together. One day, whenever it may be, he's going to see Mickey again. And when he does, he's never going to let go ever again.

“I promise.”

A flick of a lighter on the other end. Then, a deep exhale.

“I gotta go.”

Ian's heart lurches.

“Promise me you'll stay in touch. You don't have to call, but just text me from time to time and let me know you're okay.” A lump forms in his throat. “Please, Mick.”

Another deep sigh. But–

“Okay,” Ian hears, and the world aligns itself once again. “I promise.”

The snow continues to fall outside, covering the entire neighbourhood with a blanket of frost. Ian wonders what the weather is like where Mickey is. Warm, he hopes.

“Merry Christmas, Mickey.”

“Merry Christmas, Gallagher.”

#kind of a christmas fic but not really #not very cheery but hopeful i would say!#you don't need to read botl but it would be nice if you did :)#gallavich #my words #gallavich fic #ian x mickey #ian and mickey fic #ian and mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #michy ficlet

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leoruby-draws · 6 months

Note

hello hello hello

i just want to say i love your little drawings so much they're adorable and so full of life and everything feels exciting in them and i love how you draw and make really fun stuff for many of the minor characters, you're doing such a good job with them and it gives me so much joyy

Hi Hi Hi

Thanks for liking my stuff! Happy to bring you joy, drawing these brings me joy!

Also its fun to get into and draw minor characters because their reading lists are super short lol! But I like to give a little love to characters that most people might not know about, in fact here's some random drawings that I had in the back-burner for the past year! Never could find a chance to just post them:

Here's a cute drawing of Cyclone, Maxine Hunkle! Wanted to give her a cute costume makeover. Kinda has a magical girl look to it huh? Took a bit of inspiration from Ojamajo Doremi, but also she's meant to resemble Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz! Both the princess and the witch. I have a bit of idea of what I'm going do with her, but that's for later.

Got a drawing of Gan, Jason's friend from the Knight White books. Not sure if she exist in my Training Wheels au, but I like her a lot. Her rapport with Jason was fun to read.

Here it looks like the Outlaws are trying to recruit new members, from the Relative Heroes group, Damara Sinclaire (Allure) and Tyson Gilford (Blindside). They're not likely to join, preferring to stick with their own group. Just as well since Damara's powers might make things a rather chaotic, she doesn't need that drama in her life lol. Tho I like the thought of Tyson helping out now and then, his invisibility would be pretty useful.

Here's some random assortment of heroes, Ray Terrill the...Ray. Amethyst, tho top pic is uncolored (im lazy) but theres a Sailor Amethyst to make up for that.

There's the first Green Lantern (Alan Scott) with his kids,Jade (Jennifer Lynn Hayden) and Obsidian (Todd James Rice). Wonder why their babies here, de-aging mishap?

Jason and Toni gossip about their fellow teammates, and down below Jason decides to annoy a young Kyle Rayner. A universal constant!

Todd can't help but join in!

Also some cute father-son bonding! I sent this to someone else earlier, so imma just stick here too.

For a really minor character, here's Jay, Eddie and Rose meeting up with a very strange new friend!

And lastly here are the Metal Men, or should I say the mini-Metal Men. Read some comics about them, including a bit of silver age as well (they get destroyed pretty often, kinda funny ngl). I thought about what kinda sidekicks they could have, but I didn't want to look up metals or learn about metallurgy or chemistry or whatever. So I just made them smaller, its just temporary though, aren't they cute? Look at poor Copper, she just wants to join in!

Anyways, hope that wasn't too much, tagging all of this is gonna suck.

Sorry I haven't been posting, due to Tumblr being a pile of shit and trying give our stuff to ai websites. So I thought I would download nightshade and glaze, but that didn't work out at all (I got a new laptop but it still wont render for me at all). So I'm just gonna hope my opt-out in the settings will be enough for now. Sigh!

Hope you like all this anon, might be a while til I post again. Later!

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jasntodds · 1 year

Text

Petrichor [10]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader (little bit of fwb)

Words: 17,399

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, angst, canon drug use, drug use (don't do drugs), blood, bruises, injuries, look the anti-fear drug turns perfectly innocent people into raging murderers and makes them do things they would never do and that's all I'm gonna say for that one, canon violence, violence, mentions of abuse

Summary: ❝Pylades: I’ll take care of you. Orestes: It’s rotten work. Pylades: Not to me. Not if it’s you.❞

Gotham is home, not just for Jason but for you, too. And now that you’re both finally back home, together, you’re ready to see where this next chapter brings the two of you. He’s your best friend and you’re his. And you both might want a little something more with being back home, the place you both feel most comfortable. Surely, nothing could possibly go wrong now.

A/N: I'm sorry this is extra late lol some personal stuff happened and editing has been hard lol then I was sick so here we are I'm so sorry!! You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

Instead of providing Dick with any sort of explanation you can think of, you decide you'll meet up with Jason instead. Dick knows he's alive and he's going to want answers which means you're going to be the one interrogated by him. But, Jason tried to kill Dick tonight and that is sending up a large red flag that almost makes you want to tell Dick everything. So, you figure you can meet up with Jason and hope he gives you a good enough reason to either keep your mouth shut or to spill what you know to Dick. Something is off and it's more than just Jason coming back from the dead.

You head outside to the front steps of the Manor. The only people awake are just you and Dick anyway, but you want to be outside for this one. You take out the burner and press redial.

"Shouldn't you be getting some damn sleep?" Jason answers.

"Shouldn't you?" You quip back. "Heard you had an eventful night."

"Fair enough." He remarks but he sounds tired.

"Can we meet?" You ask bluntly.

"Now?" Jason huffs, looking around his hideout that's lit up with lamps on the floor.

"Yeah, now." Your voice is flat and usually Jason can read what you're up to but not now.

"Why?" His brows knight together as the word is slow to leave his throat.

"I can't want to see you after you just fought the Titans?" You ask, a slight snip in your voice.

"You gonna bitch about it?" Jason quips back getting the idea maybe Dick told you what happened or Gar.

"No." You lie.

"Fine. Remember that alley the day we did that bust at the warehouse in Crime Alley?"

"Yes?"

"Meet me there. Leave now." Jason says quickly before hanging up.

You pull the phone from your head, looking at it. Now that's also a bit uncharacteristic of him. He always says it. He always tells you he loves you before he hangs up. Your heart plummets to your stomach. You made the Pet Sementary reference to him but you didn't think it would be literal. Now, you're starting to think maybe it is.

The idea that just because you can bring someone back from the dead, doesn't mean you can bring someone back from the dead. Something about them is different, there's a change. Like a part of their soul or something gets left behind. The good parts of them stay behind but everything else is what gets to come back. You know that's not entirely true because of how he was with you when you met up the first time. That can't be it. But there is something. And it's eating at you.

Jason, on the other hand, he knows you. He knows you want to meet up to check on him, yes. You’ll always want to check on him after any sort of fight with anyone. It’s what you do. But, he also knows you’re going to have questions about him attacking Dick and the other Titans. You tipped him off, sure, but maybe you didn’t think he was going to actually attack them. He knows you’re going to question him about it, probably lecture him. He doesn’t want to listen to it. He can’t listen to it. A part of him will want to break if he does and he knows it. He knows he will if he goes there clean. So, he doesn’t. He hits the inhaler and pockets it before heading to the alley.

Jason gets there first, hiding in the shadows until you show up. You’re on your bike, completely suited up. You don’t want anyone seeing you with him. Not the real you. Red Hood is pissing off a lot of people and you already have enough shit you’re dealing with. The last thing you want is a target painted on your civilian self for being seen with him.

You dismount the bike, popping the helmet on the handlebar as you look around. Jason walks out from the shadows, wearing the suit and the helmet. Of course, he is.

“I’m fine.” Jason states. You don’t like how the helmet makes him sound.

“Yeah, well, had to see for myself.” You let out a breath as you close the rest of the distance between you.

“You don’t have to worry about me anymore.” Jason takes the helmet off and he isn’t smiling or grinning. His expression is flat and your heart starts to sink.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean, Jay?” You shake your head, Jason getting a hint of annoyance in your voice.

“I mean I’m fine.” He rolls his shoulders, his voice flat.

Your eyes are scanning over him and it’s dark but you’re pretty sure he doesn’t have any bruises. It seems either the helmet and suit did a good job of protecting him tonight or Dick didn’t get a hit in. That’s at the very least a small relief but Jason Todd has never been fine. You’re starting to think he doesn’t actually know the definition of the word.

“Right. You have said you’re fine a hundred times and not once have you actually been fine.” You cross your arms over your chest.

Jason’s teeth grit for just a split second. “Don’t fucking worry. I told you. I got this handled.” Jason holds the helmet on his hip, his stance strong and sturdy.

He’s different than he was yesterday. He was grinning and smirking because it’s him. Whenever he claims to be fine, he gives you a grin as if that’s going to melt your worry away. But, not tonight and he seems bored and defensive.

“Why are you being so…weird?” You raise a brow at him.

Jason brushes you off, thankful for the drug coursing through his system. He’d never be able to deal with this without it.

“I’m not weird.” Jason defends.

��Yeah, you are. You’re acting weird.” You argue.

You don’t get it and maybe you won’t ever. But, this is him now. He’s not acting weird because this is the new him. Red Hood, fearless. He has no worries or fears anymore, just a mission. Jason swears he’s not acting weird, you’re just expecting the old him.

“This is just the new me.” He lets out this sort of chuckle that doesn’t sit well in your stomach.

“Uh-huh. Right. You seemed…kind of normal last time but now you seem…off.” Your eyes scan over his face and your heart is in your throat, the formula running through your mind.

“Just glad to be doing what Bruce couldn’t.” Jason holds his head up high with ease.

“This conversation is going fucking nowhere.” You let out a sigh as you look to the ground.

You came here with the intent to be sure he’s fine. It was to get some sort of answer. A real, solid reason not to tell Dick anything. Dick is going to have so many questions when you get back tonight. All of them will be about Jason and what his new plan is now that he’s alive. You need a reason to keep what you do know to yourself and Jason is giving you every reason to be worried enough to talk to Dick.

“So, go home.” Jason scoffs but he’s not even offended or upset. It’s like he doesn’t even care.

Your attention snaps back to him. “What the fuck? I’m worried about you and you don’t even care?”

It’s not that he doesn’t care. The drug numbs part of that but not entirely. It can’t otherwise they wouldn’t be able to have a plan in the first place. Jason has to be able to care about the city and the people he’s trying to protect otherwise there is no plan. It’s not that he does not care, it’s that he doesn’t care to go through the arguing in circles game while you dig for information.

“What else did you want? I know you want something else.” Jason dodges the question on purpose, knowing he won’t even feel guilty about it.

A lump forms in your throat as he dodges the question. He comes back to life and is, generally, normal but now he’s not? How is that even possible?

“Dick knows you’re alive.” You swallow the lump and if he’s going to pretend like this doesn’t hurt him, fine, you’ll do the same.

“Yeah, broke my other helmet, had a backup though.” Jason looks down to the helmet on his hip and then back to you with ease, the very corners of his mouth twitching into a grin.

“Oh, I’m so glad you have a spare helmet, Jason.” You snark through a scoff. “Unbelievable.” You look down and this is not how you wanted this to go. “Why did you try to shoot him?”

“He was in the way.” Jason answers casually.

The Titans are going to get in the way and Dick is the leader. Without him, the Titans will fall apart. Crane is right about Dick. He thinks he’s better than Jason. He thinks he’s the golden child, and he always was to Bruce. Bruce couldn’t even be bothered to kill the Joker for Jason but he would have for Dick. Dick dropped him from a skyscraper. Dick got him kidnapped and tortured. This all comes back to him and Bruce.

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head and you’re sick of the games with him right now. “Are fucking joking!?” You finally yell. This isn’t funny. Dick is his brother, he’s your friend. He could have killed him. What the fuck is wrong with him?

“Nope.” Jason gives you a grin. The drug loves confrontation.

This is not the Jason you once knew.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You glare up at him. “He’s in your way? Well, damn Jason, maybe don’t attack the fucking Titans.” You gesture your hands out as you shrug your shoulders.

Jason’s blood starts to boil as you yell. You swore you weren’t working with them but from where he’s standing, it sure as shit seems like you are. Crane said you would. Crane said you’d start working with them the second you found out what he was doing. Maybe he was right and it’s pissing Jason off. You’re supposed to be on his side.

“I thought you weren’t fucking working with them.” Jason seethes. You lied. You lied to him. Of course, you’re working with them. Maybe Crane was right about you, too.

But you tipped him off.

“I’m fucking not! But I give a shit about them. In case you forgot, Dick saved my life twice. Gar is our best friend. Conner saved your life. Kory fucking tried to save our lives. I know you care about them. Why the hell would you go after them?”

“Dick treats me like shit. I’m fucking no one to him. He thinks he’s so much better than me.” Jason scoffs. “You said Rachel was his lap dog, but look at you now.” Jason laughs cruelly as he closes some of the distance between you. “You’re the one screaming at me and defending him.” Jason shakes his head, looking down at you.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he were trying to intimidate you.

Maybe you don’t know better.

“You tried to kill him! He pisses me off sometimes, too but I don’t want him dead! I’m not his damn lap dog, either. I just don’t know what the hell is going on. And you won’t fucking tell me.” You grit your teeth, standing toe-to-toe with him.

“That’s because it’s none of your fucking business, but don’t worry, babe, you’ll see soon enough.” Jason offers this grin that you can’t tell is him taunting you or threatening you. And from here, with him nearly standing on top of you, you can see his eyes better.

His pupils are dilated and your heart is suddenly in your throat. On the one hand, making a drug and selling it to innocent people is really bad and you were hoping that was not it. But, on the other hand, a part of you thinks him taking something is worse in a way. The formula screams from the back of your head and Dick’s general concern about it, Jason’s weird and erratic behavior before he died. Him going after the Joker. He’s definitely high and you have no fucking idea how you missed that either or what even lead him here.

“Literally, are you high right now?” You question him, hoping against all odds whatever he’s on will make him tell you, like an overconfidence thing. “Because the Jason I know wouldn’t be laughing and trying to kill the Titans. The Jason I know wouldn’t be being such a fucking dick to me right now.”

Jason lets out a laugh, ignoring your question because he’s not playing into your hand. “So, go home.” There’s a wicked look in his eyes as he looks down at you. And it hurts. “This is me, new and improved.” There’s almost something threatening in the way his eyes darken to the deepest shade of evergreen you’ve ever seen.

“If you think this an improvement, I have news for you. The new you sucks.” You spit back.

It’s like the drug loves confrontation. It’s as if confrontation triggers something. The drug is supposed to suppress fear. That’s the point of it. But it seems to do a few other things. If confrontation starts, it’s like Jason gets an adrenaline boost but not in self-defense, instead, it’s more like skydiving. It’s actually fun, it doesn’t matter who the confrontation is with. It’s fun. Thrilling. Jason doesn’t realize that maybe that was Crane's plan. He’s a mad scientist. Maybe the drug is meant to suppress his fear but maybe it’s meant to control other parts of him in just the right way to do his bidding. Like using confrontation as another drug. Jason doesn’t see it. He can’t see it because the drug, at the end of the day, is Crane’s creation. Because Crane is the one pulling the strings behind the curtain.

And unfortunately for you, you’re kicking up the confrontation.

Jason’s smile falls as he shakes his head. There’s an anger that sparks across his eyes, something you’ve never directed at you. “Really? Not what you fucking said yesterday. Not what you said earlier today when you tipped me off.”

“You weren’t like this yesterday or earlier.” You argue, holding your ground.

Jason steps forward, making you take steps back until your back hits the alley wall behind you and your heart spikes. Your head isn’t throbbing but a very small part of you, is a little bit scared. This isn’t him. Jason wouldn’t try to kill Dick. Jason does not threaten you. But there’s a look in his eyes and if he’s willing to kill Dick and attack his friends, what’s he willing to do to you?

“Go. Home.” Jason warns.

The anger is flooding every aspect of him and he wants to give in. His brain says it's gonna be fun. It'll feel good to fight and argue. It'll be great to say everything that's crossing his mind right now. He won't feel guilty or fear or worry. It's it's own little high if he just gives in. Just a little bit. But the other parts fight hard with his teeth gritting together. He fights against the anger. Because it's you.

"What-what are you gonna do if I don't?" You lack venom in your voice because you're actually curious and worried what he'll do. For the first time in knowing him, you're worried what he might do. You know he won't do anything. You know he won't. If he were going to, he would have already. But it crosses your mind anyway.

His eyes are locked on yours and he wants to fight so bad. It's going to be fun and thrilling, it'll make him feel something incredible. But only for that moment, until the high wears off. That part of him that's still him, is banging and foaming at the mouth with a wailing cry, begging him to let it go and turn around. It's as if the drug is keeping the good parts of him locked away in a prison and Jason has to decide which side he's going to be on.

But it's you.

It's never really a thought at the end of the day.

Jason takes a step back, his fists balling at his sides. Not you.

"Just go and don't fucking tell anyone." Jason warns. "You promised you wouldn't and you said you don't break them. So, fucking don't." Jason uses your own words against you.

Relief starts to come over you and you've never seen him look at you like this. Dick is right. You hate that that thought is what comes to mind. Somehow, Dick is the one that's right here. This is not the Jason you know and love. He's high and something bad is coming from this. You're going to figure out what's going on, the full story, and you're going to get him back or die trying. He's in there, yesterday proved it.

"Fine." You agree because you aren't about to argue further when he's high. You don't want to see where this is going to go or how bad it can get. "But get your shit together, Jason. I'm serious." You move past him.

"Don't do anything stupid. I'm doing this." Jason huffs.

You shake your head and Dick can handle himself. You turn to face him. "You leave me and Gar the fuck out of your shit with Dick." You warn.

"Fine." Jason agrees. He never wants to hurt Gar anyway.

"Okay." You let out a reluctant sigh. "You know," You start as you turn to fully face him. "I'll figure it out, right? You know I will. I don't know what you need to do to prepare for that, but I will. And I'm gonna get you back." You hold your voice steady.

Jason raises a brow at you. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Jason swears you can't know what's really going on. You know about the formula but Jason also knows he left a code in it to throw you, specifically, off. He doesn't think you'll figure it out and he's not entirely sure how you know anything else. He wonders if he's really acting so differently that it's sending up enough red flags.

"I know you better than anyone. I'll figure it out." You turn around. "Not giving up on you, Jay." You grab your helmet from the bike and he should be angry.

He should be scared but all he can do is laugh and there he is. There's the Jason you know. The real Jason would find you being nonchalant and casual right after that exchange amusing. It's why you did it. He's in there somewhere and you're gonna get him back. You just saw him yesterday and Dick showed you the formula. You don't like that he has to be right but he clearly is. So, you'll get him back, you're certain.

"You gonna stay outta my way then?" Jason gives you that signature grin of his and something about it eases some of your own worry.

"Guess I'll have my hands full while I figure it out so..." He can't see it, but you're smirking under your mask and helmet.

"Good fucking luck." Jason states as you start up the bike. You nod your head once before you peel off into the street.

He should be worried you'll figure it out. But he isn't and not just because of the drug. If you're busy digging into him, that means you won't be around the Titans. That means he can continue on with the plan without having to make sure you're safe. He can be as free as he wants to execute the plan in whatever way is necessary. You won't be the one caught in the crossfire. Jason is confident you won't figure it out because you have too much faith in him. You'll never believe he went to Crane.

Or maybe that's just the drug talking.

When you get back to the Manor, you meet Dick in the kitchen who's still awake trying to figure out how the hell Jason is alive. You didn't provide any information and announced you'd be back before you just left him standig inside of Jason's grave. He's hoping maybe you're willing to give him some information now since you're the one that asked to talk.

Dick places a cup of coffee in front of you as he takes his own seat in front of you at the one of the kitchen counters. "What do you know?" Dick questions, cutting right to the chase.

On the way back, you bounced back and forth on what you'd say and what you wouldn't. Jason's using and that's a problem. He's attacking the Titans which is also a problem. And he's acting weird towards you. You like to believe you can handle most things on your own but it's never really gotten you anywhere and you can't afford to fuck this one up this time just because you're stubborn and loyal to a fault.

"Look, my loyalty lives and dies with him." You state before you raise your brows. "Well, I guess lives, dies, then lives again." You roll your eyes. "And I'm not gonna betray him but...I actually don't know much." You state. "I just knew he was alive, not really anything else. He called me yesterday and asked me to meet up with him. I did. And it was him."

"How did you know it was him?" Dick asks and he isn't sure if he should believe you. You left abruptly, likely to meet up with Jason and now you want to talk? But, he's willing to listen.

"You and me." You answer. "Something we always said. He mentioned the necklace he gave me." You state as Dick glances to the infinity charm around your neck. "There's a tracker in it but only he would know that. Bruce didn't know. At least, we don't think he knew Jason did that. Few other things but that was the big one." You chew the inside of your cheek. "He, uh, he seemed...normal all things considered."

Dick's eyes narrow and he finds it hard to believe that's all you know. Dick knows the two of you were thick as thieves and you'd both go to the ends of the Earth to defend each other. But, you did admit to knowing you knew when Dick asked and Dick is getting the feeling you aren't lying this time.

"And you don't know anything else?" Dick pushes.

You take a sip of your coffee before straightening your back and clearing your throat. Dick already knows about the drug and suspects Jason is using so telling Dick that sucks, but he already knows. It's just confirmation and telling Dick how Jason is alive doesn't seem too bad. It's a Lazurus Pit, that can't be too much information. But, you decide to keep Jason having a partner to yourself. It seems safer that way. If they're dangerous like Jason thinks they are, it should be safer to keep that to yourself. But, telling Dick everything else, might be helpful in getting the old Jason back. You hate yourself for it. You hope he'll understand one day, you hope Jason will forgive you for it.

You don't think you'll forgive yourself.

"Lazarus pit. That's what he said. He said he doesn't really know how it works but someone put him in it and brought him back. That's all." You leave out him working with someone, figuring maybe that's for his own protection.

"Ra's Al Ghul probably." Dick lets out a scoff.

"League of Assassins, right?"

Dick nods his head. "Yeah."

"Think they have something to do with it? Besides the Lazurus pit?"

Dick shakes his head. "No, they would have no reason to bring Jason back, and Ra's isn't even in Gotham."

"Alright, well what are you thinking?" You ask in hopes maybe Dick has some insight. At the end of the day, you know you have a bias. You know your emotions can get in the way when it comes to Jason but Dick can put all of that aside to see what he needs to.

"You said you know him better than anyone." Dick nods his head. "Was he using? When you saw him?"

You hang your head before you offer Dick a solemn expression. "I don't know if he was using before he died. If he was, he hid it well but..." You roll your shoulders, chewing the inside of your cheek and you really hope Jason understands one day. "He was high when I met up with him." You admit, catching Dick off guard. "He wasn't yesterday but he was tonight. And for the fucking record," You state harshly. "That is the only fucking reason I'm telling you anything."

Dick didn't want to believe Jason could be using either. It's a hard pill to swallow and the confirmation does hurt him. But, Dick isn't too surprised. He found the formula and that would explain why Jason went after the Joker and how you don't know much of anything. Jason wouldn't want you involved.

"He must have been high. Maybe that's why he went after the Joker that night. Maybe he was high." Dick keeps his voice level as you roll your eyes.

"Yeah, probably." You scoff with the shake of your head. "And I missed it all which is shit. But, you know," You suck in a breath. "There's more to it and I know you know that. Him making the fucking drug and then taking it is weird as shit even for him. With his mom and shit...it just..." You shake your head. "Doesn't make any sense."

"Maybe it's a favor for someone." Dick offers, agreeing that the drug use and making seems a bit uncharacteristic.

Jason said he's working with someone and you think maybe the drug is a part of that. Whoever he's working with had to be the same person that brought him back which means they'd have to know he died in the first place. Likely would know he was going out to die which also means the Joker plan was actually a plan. You run it over in your head and the more you think about it, the more it sounds like whoever did this, had him killed on purpose with the intention to manipulate him. If the drug is linked then so is everything else.

"He'd need a good enough motive for that though." You suck in a breath. "So, if that's true, it has to be the person who brought him back, right? But, I don't know who that is. Jason didn't say shit."

"Why wouldn't he tell you?" Dick asks. "He told you a lot, didn't he?"

"Yeah, fucking sucks being left out." You snip back. "But, yeah, I don't know. He just said he can't and that was the end of it." You shrug. "Jason has only kept things a secret from me out of self-preservation that's actually just self-destruction or to protect me. So, not too big a fan of this."

"Okay well, I need you to meet up with him again and talk to him." Dick states. "We need answers and if you keep pushing him, maybe he'll tell you more."

"That's not....that's not fair. Talk about what? You want me to meet up with him and tell him to stop fucking around? And tell me everything as if I didn't already do that?" You huff. "What do you think I went to do tonight? I went for fucking answers and got none besides finding out he's high which he did not tell me. It was just obvious."

"If anyone can get to the bottom of it, it would be you. Like you said you know him better than anyone. He didn't tell me or Gar he was alive. He was shooting at me. But, he got you to meet up with him and told you first. You already know more than any of us so even if this is a new version of him that came back, the old Jason is in there somewhere. Enough to trust you." Dick tries his best to reason with you even if he knows it might be a waste of his breath.

"So, you want me to betray him?" You quip back, guilt rattling your bones like a storm cellar in the middle of a tornado.

Jason trusts you and that's not something you would ever take lightly. The one thing the two of you have always had with each other is trust. From the very first day, there has been this trust between you. It's just how it is and you getting any information and telling Dick, would be a betrayal of trust. Anything Jason says to you, you know without him even saying anything, is in confidence because it always is just as it is for you. You do not want to ever betray him, not after everything.

"No," Dick shakes his head. "It's not betrayal."

"He's gonna tell me not to tell you shit. And we both know I will listen to him." You urge and you do not want to be in the middle of it but you can't betray him. Everyone always does and you will not be like everyone else. "You want me to pick sides and look, okay? I know you guys are good and cleared up your shit and you're brothers but you are the like...leader of the Titans. That's where your loyalty lies. Gar, Kory, Conner, Dawn, Hank, they're all Titans. They will side with you. They all would follow you no matter what. Who the fuck does Jason have? That's what this shit always boils down to. He doesn't have anyone, Dick. It's just....him and me." You roll your shoulders.

"What if it saves him from himself?" Dick nods his head.

"What if it gets him killed permanently?" You question.

"You can still try. You don't have to turn on him. If he doesn't tell you not to tell us, you can come back and tell us." Dick offers, trying his best to be a voice of reason. He knows this is hard but Jason is out there killing people, innocent people, and now he's targeting the Titans. He needs to be stopped, regardless on how you feel about it.

"It's always shit said in confidence though. That's how it always is. If...if I do that, hard if, how are we supposed to come back from that? I would have been another person that betrayed his trust. It doesn't fucking matter what he's doing. I can't do that." You shake your head as you plead with Dick. "I'm not a Titan right now. My loyalty is still with him. And I don't want in the middle of it." You state. "Look, I don't even really disagree with him. He said he's cleaning up Gotham and like I said, Bruce's ways don't work. Jason, clearly, is on the same page."

"But you're having this conversation with me right now and that tells me at least some part of you doesn't agree."

"Yeah, I don't agree with him coming after the Titans and I'm worried about the drug side of this. That's the only reason we're even discussing this. I will always be on his side. I don't know if there's anything he can do that would make me quit. And this is hard enough as it is, Dick." You chew the inside of your cheek, tugging your sleeves over your hands. "I don't think he'll forgive me for telling you anything and I can't....I can't betray him more than this."

You know, without a doubt, if the roles were reversed, Jason would never give up on you. You won't do it to him, either.

"Do you believe this is all Jason? He woke up from the dead and chose this?"

It's something that's been bothering her. Him waking up and choosing this is not far-fetched. Him dying, choosing this, and neglecting to tell anyone including her about it, that's the weird part. Sam doesn't know what happened when he died but she has to believe that there is more going on. There has to be more than him just dying and neglecting to tell her anything. There has to be.

"I don't know." You shrug. "I did. He died and I chose this. So, I don't know." You clear your throat because as much as you want to believe this is all Jason, you know there's more. And you're terrified it's going to get bad. He went after Dick and this is more than Jason just trying to fight him in the Tower. "Okay, look, yeah I think something bad is going on. It is weird. I didn't decide to become a crime lord and make a drug. If, hard if, he tells me something I think I can get away with telling you, I will. But only if Jason gives me a reason to." You shake your head deciding that would be okay. Jason has to give you a reason though.

Dick nods his head and he knew it would be a long shot. "Okay."

Dick hopes you'll actually tell him anything. He needs answers and he'll keep digging himself, but you would be a big help in all of this. But, he knows the two of you have loyalty that runs deeper than the Titans.

"But," You suck in a breath. "This stays between us. I don't want the other Titans to know. They'll freak out. Well, Hank and Dawn anyway." You roll your eyes. "You know Gar, he'll believe Jason is in there somewhere. Conner doesn't know him well enough but he'll probably side with Gar or follow you anyway. Kory was the only one who didn't accuse Jason of anything. So, but if you tell one of them then you have to tell everyone so...stays between us."

You do not want Jason to figure out you're even having a conversation about working with Dick. That can't happen because you already said you won't work with the Titans. There is a reason Jason wants you out of it. If the Titans know you already knew and Dick and you had a conversation, that'll send up a red flag if it gets back to Jason somehow. And the Titans trust Dick. It has to stay between you and Dick.

"Deal." Dick sticks his hand out and you shake it. "I know this is hard but you're doing the right thing."

"If you say so." You roll your eyes. "That also means you have to get Gar off my back though. I can't go trying to meet up with Jason and Gar is right there. He won't tell me shit if Gar's around."

"Can you stop killing people?" Dick questions as he raises his brows.

You narrow your eyes. "Just while you're in town and while we sort this shit out. Got my hands a little full with Jason's shit. I still have a whole hitlist to get through, though." You raise your mug at him.

"That's not funny." Dick wanrs.

"It's not a joke." You chuckle. "I know you don't agree with me but I promise I'm not killing people who don't deserve it. I can give you their endless rap sheets. Guy I killed tonight while you guys were busy was lacing drugs and selling directly to kids and I mean like middle schoolers. He's been put away ten fucking times. They just keep letting him out. He's gotten over a hundred kids killed. Those are the fucks I'm killing. You don't have to agree with me but you should try to understand my point of view of it." You point a finger at him.

"I do." Dick nods his head. "Less kids people like him can kill but where do you draw the line?"

"Do you want to know? I have a line. They have to meet certain criteria otherwise I just scare the ever-living shit out of them and rough them up real bad."

"You have criteria?" Dick asks, his voice a mix of being appalled and confused.

"Yeah, I agree with you. We can't go out playing judge, jury, and executioner all the damn time. That's not justice. But, the system fails to protect people like me and you and Jason and Molly. It always has. It didn't protect my dad, who albeit is still a piece of shit probably, but he was hooked when he was in school. It didn't help Jason's mom. It looks at us and laughs in our faces and tells us to deal with it because we can't do anything about it. I'm doing that and hey, Jason's off his damn rocker, but he's targeting some bad people."

"Are you going to be able to live with yourself with their blood on your hands? I think that's why Jason stopped you from killing Jerry. He didn't want you to have that on your conscious."

"You know," You furrow your brows as you shake your head. "I killed some of CADMUS. And uh, I mean, I feel bad about it a little. I killed people, that's a heavy thing to carry. But, they tried to kill me, Gar, Conner, and Krypto. They tortured them. I feel bad because I'm not a monster but I also know it's what had to be done. I kill these guys and it's like...I feel bad. Someone out there gives a fuck about them. Someone out there is going through what I went through when Jason died. I feel bad for them. And I feel bad for taking a life but then I look at how many people they've either permanently hurt or killed, and I'm keeping track. I'm keeping track of every person I save by killing them. And I feel less bad about it. I feel bad because they were a person with a life and a beating heart. But, I can live with it because of the list of people I'm saving in the process. That sounds a little, uh, egotistical but it's true. That's why there's a criteria. Killing one person by accident doesn't mean they get to die. That's not justice. It's gotta be bad. Batman walks the streets and it doesn't stop these fucks. I feel bad about it, but....it's better than them killing and torturing people with no reason to stop."

"So, you think Bruce was right for throwing all of his morals away to kill the Joker?"

You let out a snort. "No, but that's not because of his morals and shit. I think anyone is capable of throwing their morals away for certain shit without it actually changing their moral compass, like Bruce killing the Joker." You explain as you sip your coffee. "But, I think it's fucked Jason had to die. None of the other people mattered enough to do something permanent about him. It took Jason's brutal murder for him to finally do something and I gotta problem with that. If anyone should have killed him, it should have been me. He killed my mom and he took Jason. Bruce only did it for Jason. I think, if you're gonna kill people for the greater good, it shouldn't be because of one single person. It should be for the greater good. There should be a list of reasons why you're killing someone. A list of reasons why they have to die. I gave Bruce all of those reasons and those weren't enough. Jason was. And that's not fucking fair to every other person that had to suffer by the hands of the Joker. So, no, fuck Bruce for killing him now. What's he gonna do? Come back and welcome Jason with open arms as if he isn't the reason Jason was murdered in the first place? Fucking stupid."

"Have you been thinking about all this this whole time?" Dick can't help but chuckle.

"Yeah," You shake your head. "And Jason but....that's been a topic I don't so much like to think about lately. So, I made a hit list." You smile softly. "Got a list of bad people to get through that Bruce won't do shit about."

"So, what you gonna go off after the Penguion next? Does he fall under your criteria since the Joker's gone?" Dick quips back, mostly digging to make sure you aren't planning on doing something like Jason.

"Nah, I think he's a fun little guy." You let out a laugh. "Something about him makes me laugh. He's bad, too sure, but he's not...that bad in the grand scheme of shit. Ya know? Penguin, sometimes helps here and there. He's not evil."

"You've had the pleasure of meeting him, then, I'm guessing?" There's a smile tugging at Dick's lips.

"Oh yeah. We went after him for something with Bruce once and I just thought he was funny. He was so serious and somehow not. If the camp genre were a person, it would be Penguin. So, I start actually laughing which then made him really mad and naturally made the whole thing that much funnier to me. So, Jason starts bursting out laughing at the top of his lungs. We're both doubled over and Penguin's face starts turning all red and he was stomping his foot. He starts yelling at Bruce to get us to stop and take him seriously and we don't know who we're messing with." You shake your head mockingly as you laugh. "His goons were trying desperately not to laugh with us!" You say through a hearty laugh. "I thought Bruce was gonna blow. But, I think he wanted to laugh, too."

"Yeah, he's always been a fun one to deal with." Dick chuckles softly. "I used to give him hell. Make fun of him. When I was Robin."

"Good, it's a lot of fun." You laugh. "I mean, he's like you. He goes by fucking Penguin and you go by Dick. You guys are setting yourself up for the jokes."

"I can't believe you just compared me to Penguin." Dick deadpans before a small smile cracks the corner of his lips.

"Facts don't lie, Dickolas."

You take another drink of your coffee and Dick is trying to be a better leader. You're going through it. Somehow, you're the one stuck in the middle of everything and you're the one most likely to be hurt in this mess. The person you care about most died and is now lying to you and fighting your friends. This can't be easy.

"Really, how did it go with Jason?" Dick asks, earning an eyebrow raise from you. "I'm asking for you, not for information."

"You being caring is kind of freaking me out." You chortle before you shake your head as a side smile starts to come to your lips. "Good, I think." You nod. "Ya know, Jason remembers everything. About us..." Your brows furrow tightly as your face falls. "And he said he remembers dying. So, there's that. Uh, but he seemed...mostly normal, actually besides the hair." You gesture to the front of your head as you crack a small smile.

"Yeah, I saw that. What's up with that anyway?" Dick chuckles. "At least he seemed okay. He told you he remembers dying?"

"Side effect of the Lazarus Pit, I guess." You shrug a shoulder. "He didn't want to talk about it, remembering dying I mean. But he said he remembers." You clear your throat. "So, that's a little worrisome. Ya know, given how Jason deals with trauma which is that he literally does not." You roll your eyes. "But, at least he's alive ya know? Being a shithead again but alive."

"Yeah, that's true. Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah, just need some time to process it." You clear your throat. "When you tell the Titans and half of them inevitably flip out because I knew, let them. I'll be fine." You hop down from your seat. "Like I said, they trust you. Keep it that way. They won't trust me regardless. We all know my loyalty is with him. They can't know you knew I knew. I'll be fine. I've told them off before." You start your walk to the doorway. "Night, Dick." You offer a soft smile and a nod before you spin on your heels and leave Dick alone.

Gar wakes you up the following day, saying Dick has called a meeting with everyone. You know exactly what the meeting is about and everything starts to ache from the pit of your stomach. It sucks that they're all going to know you knew and didn't tell anyone. And it sucks because that also means they'll know it's Jason under the Red Hood and maybe they won't be so forgiving. They never have been with him.

But you walk with Gar to the main living room anyway. You take a seat beside Gar with Krypto sitting at your feet and the other Titans are scattered around. Dick stands in front of all of you with his arms crossed.

Once everyone is gathered, Dick starts telling you all how he broke Red Hood's helmet last night and it was Jason. He follows it by saying he dug up Jason's grave to verify it was him. You find it weird no one even bats an eye at the grave digging but of course they don't. You keep your stare on Krypto as you pet him, knowing one of them is going to accuse you of knowing as soon as Dick finishes his explanation. You can feel Gar's stare on you and without even looking at him, you know he figured it out. And it nearly kills you because you feel like you betrayed him and that's not fair. Jason put you in the middle of it.

"You knew, didn't you?" Hank glares directly at you.

You look up to him and suck in a breath. "Well..." You shrug, scrunching your nose.

"What the hell?!" Gar yells. "And you didn't tell me!?" Gar stares at you in disbelief and you can handle Hank. He's an ass anyway but Gar? You'll never forgive yourself for keeping it from him even if it was just two days.

"Well, kind of yeah." You chew the inside of your cheek, looking away from Gar.

"And you didn't think to tell any of us?" Kory demands.

You chew your lip. You know you or Dick will tell Kory the entire story eventually and she'll understand but it hurts anyway. "He asked me not to and you all know how deep my loyalty runs with him." You glance to Dick and he doesn't like that this is what they're doing. They're not going to trust you.

"Did you know he was going after the Joker that night? Was this the plan the whole time?" Dawn questions.

It's better that they don't trust you. It's easier for you to pick a side. You need to work Jason's angle but you cannot do that if they know. Jason is smart and he'll figure it out. So, you have to swallow your guilt and stick with being solely and entirely on Jason's side just as you always have been.

"You think I knew?" You scoff. "Like that whole thing? You think I knew and just...let him do it?" You look to Dick again, as if waiting for him to add something in. He's the leader.

"You knew he was alive." Dick adds in.

"Knowing he's alive and knowing what he was up to are two very different things." You state.

"Why should we believe you?" Hank demands. "You've been lying to us the whole time!" Hank fumes as if that's going to get him anywhere.

"Because? I wouldn't let him get himself killed. In case you forgot." You retort as you scrunch your face. It is actually ridiculous Hank thinks you knew Jason was going after the Joker and let him do it. The anger starts to wash over any guilt you had just minutes ago.

"Hey! We apologized for that shit!" Hank yells. "How do we know you didn't know he was going to get killed on purpose and get brought back. Pretty convenient, isn't it?" Hank spits.

You can feel your blood start to boil. You knew this is what was going to happen but it's annoying anyway. It's the fact they think you would let him get killed. It's the fact they think he would go out and get killed on purpose. They didn't even really know him. They don't really know you. They think your grief was all fake. You get they don't believe you, you can see why. But it's also absurd. They should be mad you didn't tell them, but they should believe you would do everything in your power to stop him from going after The Joker. They should believe Jason wouldn't get killed on purpose. This is all so absurd and you aren't going to let them drag you and Jason through the mud when they don't know anything.

You nod and let out a dry and narrowed chuckle. "You know how you can believe me? Call Bruce, hunt him down, hunt down the phone records or whatever, listen to the phone call." You look to Dick. "You can ask Babs if she thinks my reaction was fucking fake. You can ask Molly who found me on the bathroom floor. I don't care but I didn't fucking know and fuck you for thinking I did." You look back to Hank with glassy eyes. "Do you know what it's like to try CPR knowing it's useless? I was covered in his blood. I didn't fucking know and he didn't get killed on fucking purpose."

"You really didn't know." Gar says quietly.

"Nope." You shake your head. "I found out two days ago."

"What about the drug? Did he say anything?" Dick asks, hoping that can calm the room down. He doesn't think you knew any of it.

"Nope. I wouldn't let him make a drug. Ask Bruce, I told him I was gonna call you and have you bring us back. Bring him back kicking and screaming if we had to."

"Are you supposed to believe this shit?" Hank yells out, gesturing a hand towards you. "Dick, come on, she's been lying to us this damn whole time. He was prepared for us to show up last night. She tipped him off!"

"Hey, fuck you!" You scream back. "Maybe he was just fucking prepared. It was a damn code! I didn't tip him off!"

"I don't fucking believe this shit!" Hanks storms.

"That's a you problem then." You quip. "Can I go now? This is you guys problem."

"No, we're not done here." Hank boasts.

"Okay, so finish up." You snark back.

"Look, Jason did this to himself and we need to find out what else he's planning." Hank crosses his arms. "He needs to be stopped."

You let out this laugh that sounds both heartbroken and pissed. "Okay."

"I always knew something was off about that kid." Hank scoffs.

"Fuck." You yell. "Seriously?" Your eyes start to water. "What the fuck is...." You pause, looking to Gar. "You know what, you're not fucking worth it. You're just gonna sit here and victim blame anyway. Have ya noticed the rest of the room is simply...confused and not losing their shit? That's just you, pal."

"He isn't a fucking victim!" Hank scoffs with a laugh. "He got himself into this mess. He could have walked away!"

"How can you say he isn't a victim? I know he told you! His mom being an addict and neglectful, yeah, victim. His dad was abusive, victim. The system? In and out of shitty foster homes, victim. Bruce took Robin away without ever having a conversation about it, victim. You...treat him like shit, victim. All of you made him want to kill himself, victim. The Joker murdered him with a crowbar, victim." You scoff. "You're not a fucking hero and I think you're the one that needs to hang up the cape and mask if you can't grasp the simple concept of a victim."

"We all have bad experiences but we're not looking to get ourselves killed and start killing." Dawn states softly.

"I'm not out there killing people." Hank grits his teeth at you "He needs to be stopped and whoever the hell he's working with, whether you like it or not, kid." Hank scoffs as he moves towards the hallway.

You aren't done yet though. You do not like Hank and if he's really going to point the blame at Jason for everything that led him here, you're going to get under his skin.

"Before you go, if I did know more, I wouldn't tell you guys anyway. I'm killing people, too and you guys don't have an issue with that. Just Jason. So, uh, you guys are on your own with this one. I'm with him." You grin back at Hank and you want to push him further. Really drive home the point you're not with them. You also just don't like him. His apology seemed more hollowed and like he was doing it because Dawn said it was the right thing to do.

"We're not playing fucking games here!" Hank yells and Dick wants to know what you're doing. You could have let him walk off and let it rest. But it is you. You don't usually do that when it comes to Jason.

"Oh, I'm not playing games either. But I know him better than anyone so while you guys are thinking poorly of him, I'll be on his side actually listening to him like I always have which then I'll get more information and I'm not sharing." You shake your head with a grin.

"Hey, kid, we're not messing around." Hank threatens. "You're gonna tell us what you know, or we're switching teams. You won't like that."

You let out a booming laugh. "Yeah, Hank? And uh, what the fuck are you gonna do about it?" You question him with a sinister grin as you get to your feet. "Gonna fight me? Torture me? Threaten to kill me? Go for it. Here's a statistic for you: Torture doesn't work. It's been proven. People are more likely to give you false information just to get it to stop. And considering the fact I was tortured for a year and nearly murdered twice, that shit does not scare me. You'll have to kill me before you get to him. And if it comes down to that, I'll have given him the heads up."

"Unbelievable." Dick sighs.

"Told you, I'd hide a body for him."

"I don't want to kill him." Dick states.

"I will." Hank scoffs. "If it ends up him versus me, kid's going down."

"So, we're killing Jason now?" Dawn questions, almost appalled. She's confused by the whole thing but you're right. The Jason you all know isn't a murderer. There is something else going on and they don't kill their own.

"Jason's always had his issues but he wasn't a full-blown psychopath." Kory adds in.

"I still think he was using. The Batcomputer didn't find anything but I found the place he was cooking." Dick states.

"He wrote his own ticket. He starts taking people out, game's over." Hank scowls.

"And you'll have to go through me, Hank." You step past Krypto, taking a few steps towards Hank. "You're not gonna kill him. I might not be able to take on Dick, but you?" You laugh. "In my sleep." Hank steps forward, Dick stopping him. "Ohhh, scary." You mock him. "I'm not fucking afraid of you." You mock him and then it hits you.

The conversation with Jason, a cure for fear. You said it would affect his adrenaline. He wouldn't care for things. It would have side effects besides just getting rid of his fear. He made a drug. He's working with someone. The way he was acting weird yesterday. He attacked Dick. Jason went after the Joker and missed the Joker right behind him. Drug that cures fear would also block out basic instincts like someone lurking behind him. Drug that cures fear.

You're gonna kill him.

You shake your head. "Here's the deal, figure it out yourselves because I'm not fighting him and I'm not betraying him. Ever. I don't fucking care. Now, I've got some shit to do so if you'll excuse me." You walk up to Dick. "You have that formula?"

Dick eyes you with confusion, pulling the paper from his pocket. "Why?"

"Told you, I'm gonna figure it out and I'm not sharing." You snatch the paper from him and leave the Titans to themselves.

"Thanks for the backup, man." Hank turns to Dick.

"Let it go, Hank." Dick lets out a sigh. "I believe her. You should, too." Dick leaves the room.

You head to your room and sit down on the bed with the formula. You pull out the tablet and start working on it. You do research into some of the files Bruce has, trying to figure it out. You make a lot of progress on it but there's a part of it that doesn't make sense. It's not a chemical or a compound. It doesn't actually mean anything. And you're thinking Jason prepared for this.

You think Jason prepared for someone to find it. Dick did it his first day which means he didn't really hide it. Jason is smart. And clearly likes codes. Maybe he should have teamed up with the damn Riddler. That might be better than what you're thinking because you have suspicions this missing piece of the formula is a code for something he didn't want anyone to figure out. And you were never very good with codes but you know someone who might be.

You make your way inside of the restaurant where you see Mr. Drake behind the counter. You offer him a kind smile, stuffing your hands deep into your jacket pockets.

"Hey, haven't seen you in awhile. The usual?" He asks.

"Uh, yeah, but um...I was actually wondering if, uh, if Tim were around? I promise I'm ordering the usual." You let out a soft laugh as you roll your shoulders.

"Yeah, of course." Mr. Drake looks over his shoulder. "Tim! Come out here, please."

Tim walks out a few seconds later, stumbling slightly over a box. Tim sees you and he's surprised to see you. Tim is very observant and he knows something that no one else has been able to figure out. He thought you might be down and out for a while because of it.

"Hey." Tim greets with confusion.

"Hey, do you like puzzles? Like codes." You rush out, trying to make it sound casual. "Genius."

"Uh..." Tom chuckles softly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I guess. Why?"

"Can you help me with one?"

Tim walks from behind the counter, resting a hand on your arm and moving you both off to the side. "Are you okay?" Tim questions and he's known you a little through the years, not really well. But, he thinks he knows you well enough to know something weird is going on. Your boyfriend just died. "I saw Jason...on the news." Tim states.

Your eyes widen, somehow forgetting that naturally all of Gotham who watches any bit of the news or keeps up with things on social media would know Bruce Wayne's newest son was killed in a 'tragic accident'. Of course, Tim knows that.

"Right, yeah, no, uh, it's been really fucking hard. I, I just can't focus on it. I'll start crying. Thank you though." You brush it off and you wish you didn't have to lie so damn much.

"Why do you need help?" Tim's brows furrow, not buying it.

"It's a game kind of." You roll your shoulders. "I mean, you're really smart so..."

"Don't you live with Bruce Wayne? Isn't Dick Grayson back, too? They're really smart. Why are you coming to me?" Tim crosses his arms and he's definitely digging for information.

"If you can't help, that's fine. But I thought it was worth a shot." You shrug and you used the Batcomputer to look into him.

You've talked every time you've come to get food. You don't have many friends. And Molly is smart but not like this and you can't risk Molly going to Dick about it. Tim doesn't know any of them well enough to go back to Dick. And Jason probably won't figure out you went to Tim given you tend to keep Jason's secrets locked away with all of yours.

"Come on." Tim gestures for you to follow him and you offer him a wide smile.

You follow Tim into the side door through part of the building that leads into a hallway. Tim opens a door further down the empty hallway and walks right in with a sense of pride. You see an entire set up of computers and crime boards. On the walls, he has pictures of the Titans and Robin and Batman. He's definitely doing research into all of them and you think it's funny. You both always talked about who Batman and Robin could be but you did expect him to literally be putting together actual research, not like this. Him looking into Batman and Robin is kind of whatever at this point, but the Titans has your interests piqued.

"You looking into the Titans?" You gesture a finger lazily to one of the walls with pictures and news articles.

Tim holds his head up high. "I know you're a Titan." Tim holds the most confident grin you have ever seen.

You do a double take. "What?"

"You're a Titan. Acid generation, I'm guessing combat clairvoyance, too." Tim explains with ease.

Your brows furrow and you have no idea how the hell he even knows that. He hasn't been able to figure out Batman and Robin for years, but he figured you out in only a few months? A part of you is actually offended. You swore you did a better job of hiding your identity than Dick and Jason did.

"I'm not a Titan? They're from San Francisco and I'm definitely born and raised right here which you know." You raise.

"But you were uprooted, two years ago to San Francisco." Tim walks over to a desk and pulls out a file, handing it over.

You take it cautiously and you hope he knows this whole thing is weird. But, you open the files anyway and it contains information on Jerry and where you moved to. Which only makes you question how he got this because those records are supposed to be sealed.

"How the fuck did you get this?" You close the file, waving it slightly.

Tim shrugs. "I'm good with computers."

"You hacked into CPS and the GCPD to get this?" Your eyes narrow and he's definitely completely insane for this. What if he were wrong? You do admire the dedication though.

"And SFPD." Tim adds in. "Jerry was beat up pretty bad but it was just...brushed off. I think it was you. They found someone there, but it wasn't you."

"Okay, there's so much wrong with all of this, like you know that, right?" You ask. "And why the hell were you looking into me? I'm not a Titan and this is weird."

"I know it's you. The acid really gives you away. And I recognized how you walked." Tim explains. "And I've been looking into all of the Titans so..."

"You...what? You know how I walk? Do you know how insane that sounds or?" You're trying desperately to think of a lie for him to believe but at this point, you're not sure there's anything you can really say. He has it all figured out with you.

"I have a photographic memory." Tim states. "And the acid isn't some run-of-the-mill acid. It's a specific chemical compound. It's like a fingerprint."

"Okay, I'll humor this for a minute. If you live in Gotham and the girl you're thinking is me is from San Francisco, how exactly do you know the chemical compound of Bluejay and the Titan are the same?"

"The internet." Tim scoffs. "There are forums dedicated to you guys."

"Haven't you ever heard not to believe everything you read online?"

Tim chuckles softly. "Okay, I also know who Nightwing is, Batman...Robin." Tim looks to the ground with the last word and your face falls.

"Yeah, you sound insane," You let out a huff but if Tim does know this might be a problem for Dick later so you'll humor this a little longer. "I am interested in all of this though, so how do you know all of this?"

"Dick Grayson is Nightwing, former Robin. Robin1.0. Dick Grayson was in the Flying Graysons and he can perform a certain trapeze trick that only two people in the world could perform. Dick and his father. You know who else can do that trick? Nightwing and Robin 1.0." Tim explains with excitement as if he's been dying to share this with someone. "Bruce took in Dick and if Dick is Robin, Bruce has to be Batman." Tim continues. "I knew another Robin came in because the fighting style was different, the way he walked, the height difference."

"That's what I pointed out, too, to be fair." You point out.

"Exactly, well, Bruce Wayne took in Jason Todd." Tim looks away. "And...well..." Tim sucks in a breath.

"Robin 2.0 and Jason died around the same time, right?" You fill in what Tim doesn't want to say.

Tim nods shyly. "Yeah, and I recognized how he walked, too when you introduced us that day." Tim clears his throat. "So, if Dick is Nightwing, he's a Titan. Jason would have also been a Titan. That's how you met them. Now you live with Bruce during the same time Bluejay shows up."

You think about it for a second and actually, how has no one else figured that out? It is actually so obvious. But, you can't tell Tim that. He might be your friend but there's a lot going on and Dick and Bruce's secrets aren't yours to tell, even when you're mad at Bruce. It's not your place. And, honestly, you're a little worried what would happen if Jason ever found out Tim knew, especially right now. Would it paint a target on his back? To know Red Hood is Jason Todd? You won't risk it.

"Solid theory, I'll give you that but I also know Bruce and Dick. And uh, Bruce isn't a hero and Dick is a good detective, that's all. I'm just trying to survive. So, your math is a little off. But, I do need your help so we can keep going back and forth or you can help me." You change the subject before Tim gets any further into this. Dick is going to lose it.

"Alright, what is it?" Tim lets out a sigh but he knows he'll come back to it.

"Okay, I have this bit." You hand him a piece of paper where you traced the letters. "I don't know what it means but I know it's a code for something. And I think some of these chemicals are codes for real chemicals or something. They're not real so..."

"What's it for?" Tim quirks a brow as he gives you a grin.

"That's for me to figure out after you tell me what it means." You smile cheekily at him.

"You want my help but you're not gonna tell me?"

"No." You laugh. "It's just a project, it's not relevant."

"Okay." Tim sighs, walking over to one of the tables and you follow him.

Tim is definitely being so forthcoming because he knows he's right. He's helping a Titan right now. He's so sure of it and that's why you won't tell him anything. He had his suspicion of you and Jason. When you both came in, you both usually had some sort of bruise on you. And Tim had already figured out Jason was Robin. You were an easy puzzle piece to place after that. And he's definitely going to help a Titan.

"Got some of the chemicals for you." Tim states after a few minutes, showing you some of his work. You spent an hour on that and couldn't figure it out. How does he do that?

You look over the paper and you recognize a few of the chemicals but nothing rings a bell. "Huh." You mutter. "Anything else?"

"What are the chemicals used for?" Tim questions.

"I don't know." You shrug, only half lying. "I'm not a chemist." You quip. "What about the actual title? I mean that has to be a clue."

Tim works for what only seems to be a minute before he slides the paper over with pride. "Fear." Tim states, Tim leans back in his chair with a confident smile but he watches as your face falls.

"What?" You question as you look at the paper hastily.

"Says fear." Tim states. "That's the code."

You look back at him. "You sure?"

"Positive. Why? Is that important?" Tim raises a brow as he watches you carefully.

You were really hoping you'd be wrong but a drug leading to fear, Jason is working with someone that's dangerous. He won't tell you anything. Of all people and of all things Jason would be doing, he's doing this shit?

"Oh, that fucking dumbass." You grit your teeth. "Thank you, this is very helpful. I'm gonna go grab my food and be on my way." You let out a sigh, hopping down from the table as you grab the papers from Tim.

"Wait!" Tim calls after you as you're already headed for the door.

"I can pay you if you want, for your time. Really, I really really appreciate this." You let out a sigh.

"No, not that." Tim shakes his head. "What is it?"

You look at his board with all of the Titans and he's got it all figured out. He'll be fine. "You're really smart. Thank you. Don't do anything fucking stupid, though and be careful. Looking into that shit, might get a little messy." You pause and he's got it figured out. There's no stopping him but you aren't going to risk Scarecrow of all people, figuring out you involved him. "Hey, seriously, do not tell anyone we had this conversation. I was here for food, the usual, end of story. No one."

Tim nods his head. "Are people--"

"Nope, it's, uh, it's a-a murder mystery game we play." You lie. "Everyone is just trying to get my mind off it, ya know?" You suck in a breath. "And don't go telling people you think Bruce and Dick are the heroes. They'll also think you're insane and you'll get yourself committed."

"Isn't that cheating?" Tim raises.

"No, using my resources but they may not see it that way which is why you can't tell anyone." You grin before you turn on your heels and head out.

You head to the place you found Jason sneaking off to before he died. You caught him doing something and you hate to think this is what he was doing behind your back. Making a drug. It's insane to you. Jason was desperate but you had no idea he was that desperate. Of all the things for Jason to do, make a drug and possibly work with Jonathan Crane. He's the maker of the fear gas and he's dangerous. If anyone can make an anti-fear drug, it would be Crane. And you just can't believe Jason would be desperate enough to go to him but you have to know for sure.

Inside the room, you see he does in fact have his own lab. Dick wasn't lying. He really was here, behind your back, making this drug. You're so mad at him. How does he resort to this? How? Because of Robin? He never should have thought Robin was all he'd ever be good at. Jason believed Robin gave him magic. It starts and ends with Robin and Bruce. That's what this always boils down to and you're so angry at Jason and Bruce for it.

Your heart breaks the further you walks into the room, checking out the table where he still has everything laid out. And you still can't believe it. But, you need to know. If you're wrong, you can deal with that on your own. Jason is your responsibility. But, if you're right...you don't think you can keep that to yourself. You don't think you can handle that, not alone. It's going to be more than just getting Jason clean to get him back home. You aren't sure you can do it on your own. You know it's bad science but there's only one way to know for sure without bringing anyone else into this. Jason won't tell you anyway so you lay the formula on the table and get to work.

Jason did the hard part. And he didn't cover his tracks which you can't figure out why he wouldn't. If it was so dyer no one knows what's going on, why would he leave everything out? Why would he even leave the formula out with a clue? Unless that was the point. Jason likes to play games. It's what he does. Maybe that was the point. He coded the formula, leaving it out on purpose just to fuck with Dick and Bruce. You're surprised Dick didn't figure it out but again, maybe that's because even Dick wouldn't think Jason is crazy and desperate enough to go to fucking Scarecrow.

You finish the drug within an hour, the orange liquid loaded into an inhaler Jason left behind. You hold it up and debate it. Taking an unknown drug is a terrible idea. Taking any drug is a bad idea. And this could be a setup. Jason could have left it on purpose, knowing someone would figure it out and maybe take it to see. But you find that to be a long shot because what insane person finds a formula to make a drug and then takes it? Dick wouldn't do that and if this is about Dick, given Jason just tried to kill him, Jason would know Dick wouldn't just take a dug.

You know Jason better than anyone and Jason knows you. You put yourself in Jason's shoes, deciding maybe he'd know you'd figure it out eventually and do something completely idiotic like follow his footsteps which means this wouldn't be a setup. You settle on that logic and put the inhaler to your mouth before pressing the canister down and inhaling at the same time.

Your pupils dilate, your iris turning a bright shade of yellow-orange. And it all melts away.

The guilt you feel with not pestering Jason, him dying, not following him. Everything starts to fade away. The sadness of it all is there but it's more like a distant echo in a deep underground cave. There, but just barely. The guilt feels more like walking through fog instead of barbed wire ripping your throat to shreds. And, for the first time since you left Gotham, you aren't paranoid. You don't feel paranoid or scared. It's all completely gone. Every ounce of it. There's still this small sense of worry but the sadness, it's more of an echo.

The sadness, guilt, paranoia, and worry are caged deep inside the darkest parts of your mind. Screaming and howling to be let free again but the drug stands guard, laughing over their desperate cries. A sinister cackle echoing over everything else, clouding them so they can't break through. And for the first time, you get how Jason got here.

This is nice. You don't feel like you're weighted down anymore. In a way, it actually feels freeing. To not be scared and paranoid and consumed with worry and guilt. It's actually really fucking nice to not feel so damn heavy. But, that feeling of being free doesn't last long before it starts to fade into red-hot anger.

You think about how Jason lied to you, went behind your back. You were supposed to be a team and he left you. He left you to go after the Joker, he died, he made this dug, he became Red Hood without ever having a conversation with you. Jason just tried to kill Dick. He doesn't loop you in anymore. He made this drug that is so damn freeing and he never bothered to offer it to you. He never offered you a cure. He gets to be cured of all of his fear and paranoia while you're left here to suffer. And that pisses you off.

You're just furious with him so you get up and make your way to the Gotham City Gym thinking maybe that's his hideout. That's where you met up two days ago, it has to mean something and you do not care at all what's going to happen. You don't have the fear of consequences anymore. You aren't scared what's going to happen because you showed up there looking for him. It'll be fine, you assure yourself. It'll be the two of you, and Crane will never have to know and if he does, that's fine. You will go after him yourself because even though you're mad at Jason as you make your way on the bike, you still care about him. The love you have for him is still there, wrapping your bones like barbed wire, desperately clinging onto the old parts of you that aren't affected by the drug.

You don't want anything to happen to him. But you're mad. And the drug is letting anger win. So, you get to the old gym and walk right inside.

You find Jason in a room leaning over a chair and all you see is red, missing what he's working on. All you care about is getting answers and letting him know you're pissed and he's not just getting off the hook this time because you love him. This is fucked.

"What the fuck!?" You scream as you shove Jason away from the chair.

Jason turns to face you quickly. "What—" Jason eyes you with confusion, dropping the scalpel on the floor. "What the fuck are you doing here!?"

"Crane!?" You yell as you throw your arm out to the side. "You're working with Jonathan fucking Crane?!"

Jason takes a step back and he's never seen you like this before. Your nostrils flare and your jaw squares. Your pupils are blown and you look ready to kill him.

Oh no.

You figured it out. You took the drug. You figured out the formula. You took it. Why the fuck would you do that?

"How the fuck do you know that?" Jason seethes and he still has the drug pumping in his veins, too. What would normally be fear is clouded with anger.

"I figured it out! I told you I would! And I'm fucking offended you thought I wouldn't! You went to fucking Crane for an anti-fear drug!? Are you insane?!"

"Fuck you!" Jason screams back. "Did you fucking take it!?"

That was not part of the plan. Jason didn't want you involved and that included you taking a drug. It makes him a hypocrite and he knows that but he doesn't care. This is his problem, not yours. This was his decision and he didn't want this for you. If he did, he would have just told you.

"Yeah! And I gotta fucking say, it is nice not dealing with fear and paranoia and shit so fuck you for not telling me and giving it to me!" Your fists ball at your sides, Jason getting a glimpse of your knuckles changing color under the pressure.

"That's a load of shit! You're just saying that cause you're fucking high!" Jason yells back, the drug isn't as fresh for him as it is for you. He's thinking a little clearer than you are.

"Look who's fucking—" You pause, finally looking at the chair and seeing a passed out Hank shirtless with an open cut on his chest and a device lodged halfway into the cut. You shake your head looking back to Jason. "What the hell did I just walk in on?" Your voice comes back down.

"How did you figure it out?" Jason spits back, ignoring your question. He really doesn't want you involved with this one.

"Your erratic behavior before you died. The formula had a code. And you like to play games." You quip back and you see the hint of smirk come to his lips. "Exactly."

"You hate codes. How'd you figure it out?" His voice is a toxic mix of amusement and threatening.

"I'm resourceful. Don't worry, I didn't fucking tell anyone." You spit back. "Hank?" You gesture again as you blink at him.

He doesn't believe you. You're good at a lot of things but cracking puzzles and codes is not one of those things. It's why Jason was careful so that way if you found out, you wouldn't get anywhere. He knows you went to someone for help. You swore you don't lie to him but now you are. The line is being drawn in the sand and Jason decides he might as well throw you the bone. He wants to see exactly where your loyalty actually lies because the drug thinks that's going to be fun. It pumps him with everything Crane has filled his head with, tricking him into thinking it's true. And that includes you not being on his side.

"Putting a bomb in his chest. Wanna help?" Jason shrugs as a grin pulls at his lips as he picks the scalpel off the floor and goes back to Hank.

You watch him for a few seconds and you actually think about it. The drug clouds your judgment and lets you feel anger above everything else. You're pissed at Jason but you're still mad at Hank for earlier. Hanks wants to kill Jason and maybe that's what Hank came here to do. Maybe Hank was going to kill him. Jason is just taking it a step further because it's Jason. Nothing is ever so easy. But, a few seconds go by and you're still mad at Jason. You don't want Jason dead but you do want to piss him off because he pissed you off. An easy way to piss Jason off would be save Hank's dumbass from him.

"Fuck you." You bark, gaining Jason's attention and he thought you might actually take up the offer. He's not sure what he would have done if you did. "No, I'm not gonna help fucking kill him! Have you lost your damn mind? Who the hell are you?!" You scream again and you're starting to question if you're mad enough to kill someone you consider an ally. Hank is not your friend but would you take up the offer, right now, if you weren't so mad at Jason?

"I'm who I've always been!" Jason yells back. "What? Don't fucking like it?" Jason taunts you and he really hopes this will get you to leave.

If you're not going to be on his side, he wants you gone. You being around drives him insane because it's like two sides of him are at a war within him and they can't settle on where to sit or what to believe. They fight hard and fast, one side knowing you can be trusted and Jason loves you. He has to protect you at all costs. No matter what. But, the other side of him is high out of his mind and believes Crane really cares about him and wouldn't lie to him. Crane wouldn't just be using him and manipulating him. Crane is telling the truth and that includes you. Both sides are so torn and it drives Jason completely insane. This thing would be easier if you would just go the fuck away.

"You're not a murderer!"

"You're fucking a hypocrite! You're killing people! Crane was right about you." Jason sneers, closing the distance between you and you don't move even an inch as Jason looks down at you. "I'm fucking better and you hate it." It's like a game of tug of war in Jason's head and the Crane side is winning.

You grit your teeth as more anger starts to flood into your system. He told Crane about you? "Fuck you. Crane knows me? Really?" You huff up at him. "I liked you before."

"When I was fucking weak." Jason sneers. "You always just wanted to fix me. Well, I'm better and I'm not fucking scared. And you can't stand it." Jason lets out this horrid cackle.

You let out a loud groan as you look to the ceiling and even in your clouded state, you know Crane has to be using him. "He's fucking using you and manipulating you. He doesn't give a shit about you. We all do though." You mimic the laugh.

"Fuck you!" Jason huffs. "You don't know shit!" Jason doesn't want to fight with you but he can't help it. He should walk away and he knows he should but it's as if his feet are glued to the floor below him.

"Yeah, been there done that, right?" You look up to him. "He's using you. You just can't fucking see it." You shake your head. "He's a terrible, horrible, shit fucking excuse of a human and I can't believe you think he gives a fuck about you." You aren't sure if you're saying it to hurt him or if it's because it's true. You know there's no way Crane actually cares about him, there's no way not when Jason just made an anti-fear drug. There's more to that but you don't know if you're telling him because he needs to hear it or if you're just trying to hurt him.

The drug loves confrontation.

"You can't stand that I'm better! You hate that I don't need you anymore." Jason shakes his head, his nose scrunching in frustration. "I know what I'm doing and he cares about me unlike you and Dick and Bruce!" Jason screams and he doesn't mean it and he says it anyway. Maybe Crane is right. What if he is right? "We were a fucking mistake! You used me and tried to make yourself feel better by being with me!"

You pause and...that hurt. That still hurt. But instead of heartbreak, it fuels your anger. With the drug, your heartbreak gets confused with anger and all you want to do is hurt him back.

"We were a mistake?" You ask through gritted teeth.

The anti-fear drug doesn't just wipe away fear, it turns perfectly good people into hollowed and cruel skeletons of who they used to be. They're puppets under Crane's control once he says one sentence. Jason being desperate and feeling abandoned led him to Crane but the drug keeps him believing Crane. The drug keeps him in line. And you're having a similar side effect because normally, you'd never even think about hurting Jason but that's all you want because he hurt you. The drug turns perfectly good and decent people, into evil and malicious and calloused versions that are unrecognizable to everyone else.

Jason shrugs his shoulders. "Weren't we?" Jason questions and he doesn't mean it. But the panic and pain and fear is replaced with anger so he fires. "I'm worse, right? Nothing got better with you. I fucking died on your watch." Jason scoffs.

"I didn't get you killed, fuck you." You scoff.

"That all you got? Did I hurt your little feelings?" A grin pulls at Jason's lips and the voice echoing in the back of his head lets out a loud cry and it cracks the sturdy glass the drug creates. He knows he'll regret this. He doesn't mean it. He swears he doesn't mean it.

"I don't even know you right now and I don't think I want to." You shake your head and even when you know you should hold back, you don't. The words come out in a hasty rage before you can even process them because they'll hurt him. "This why Rose lied to you? Maybe it was to protect herself from you, right? Get close and you lose your shit and hit below the belt."

"Fuck you! Yeah? What about Gar? You say I don't tell you shit, well now you know how he felt. How do you think Molly feels right now?" Jason snaps right back.

"Gar is my friend and he's waiting back at the manor for me." You shrug your shoulders as you look Jason up and down. "Where's Rose?" You quip back. You don't mean it. You don't mean any of it. You don't even know why you're thinking it. It's not true. This was a bad idea. The drug was a bad idea.

He knows. He knows deep down you don't mean it because he doesn't either. He'd never say any of this to you and he doesn't even think any of it. But Crane is in his head and he makes so many good points, and you're making him so fucking mad. And if it weren't for the drug, he knows, he'd be terrified of what's going to happen when Crane finds out you know. What Crane is going to ask him to do. He'd be scared for your life. And your well-being. He loves you but he can't see through the anger and the numbness. He can't see through it. But, there's still that pecking for you right in the back of his head, right in the stitched letters of your name on his heart. Not you.

"Leave or let me do this. Two fucking choices." Jason sucks in a breath before he turns around and heads back towards Hank.

"You're not killing him." You move towards Jason and yank him back by his hood, just enough to stop him.

Jason stumbles back, eyes locked and angered on you. "You gonna stop me?" Jason scowls, holding a scalpel in one hand.

You won't let him kill Hank. The drug says it'll be fun and then Hank will be out of your hair. You won't have to defend Jason against him anymore and he won't be annoying. He'll be dead. That'll be the end of it. Hank won't be a bother to anyone anymore but stopping Jason will piss him off and something about that seems a little bit more fun. But, there is a small pecking at the back of your head. Jason yanking you off of Jerry because you shouldn't have blood on your hands. The memory flashes like a flashbang against everything you should be thinking while high and you swear you won't let him. It's time to repay the favor, high or not.

Jason's formula was always a little off. The drug Jason is taking now is upgraded, it's better because Crane manufactured this with Jason's help getting the supplies. Your version is a little off.

"Only if you make me have to." You shake your head, blocking Hank from Jason.

Jason hesitates. If you were anyone else, you wouldn't have gotten this far into an argument and he's pretty sure you know that. And he also knows that with the drug, even his version of it, you won't back down.

"Hank has always treated me like shit. You don't fucking get it." Jason shakes his head.

"And killing him is gonna make it all better?" You quip back. "Cause that's shit. He's a fucking ass to me, too but I'm not trying to kill him."

"Because you were always a coward." Jason's voice lacks the venom this time as if he knows what he's saying isn't true and it's not right.

"Maybe." You shrug. "But at least I'm not someone killing an innocent person." You scoff. "So, what does that make you?" You ask and even in this state, you just want him to be the Jason before he died. It's all you want.

Jason shakes his head. "I'm not scared anymore." His voice is level this time and honest. The venom has evaporated and even in this state, your heart breaks. How did he fucking get here?

"Is it worth it? Losing your friends? Dick, Bruce, Gar?" You pause for a second. "Me?"

Jason shakes his head and you'll never get it. "You don't get it." He can't let you get in his head and that's what you're doing. Jason shuts his eyes for just a second before he shakes his head, snapping himself out of it. "Now move and go the fuck home."

You nod your head and Jason is the one drawing the line, not you. You have given him every chance and opportunity to give you a reason to side with him and he will not do it. He only gives you reasons to be against him and you hate it, even in this state.

"No." You shake your head and cross your arms. "You're gonna have to fucking fight me, Jay."

Jason moves forward, looking down at you and for a second, you think he'll let it go. But, instead, he shoves you to the side. Not hard, but enough to get you out of the way. Jason swears he's not going to be the one to fight you first. It is his one fucking line he has been able to not cross and he swears he can't do that. Not you.

You fire back, shoving him harder and further away from Hank.

"All you got, babe? Thought I taught you better than that." Jason taunts.

"Yeah, well, I learned from Dick, too and I'm not throwing the first punch." You stand toe-to-toe with Jason. "You'll have to do that, Red Hood."

"Out the fucking way." Jason shoves you again, this time a little harder than before.

"You get the fuck out of the way." You shove him harder, this time Jason falling to the ground.

He looks up at you with so much anger, it nearly breaks you. He's never looked at you like that before. And maybe if he weren't high, he'd find it impressive and endearing. But he is high and he doesn't give a fuck. He swings his leg, tripping you and you fall to the floor.

Jason is back on his feet before you, quickly moving to Hank and trying to get the bomb readjusted. You move closer to him, kicking Jason in the back of the knees and sending him to the floor which gives you enough time to get to your feet.

"Wake the fuck up, Hank!" You shake him quickly, trying to wake him up but Jason trips you again, this time taking one kick to the back of the knee and then the front.

You look at Jason as he's still on the ground. You're not going to get anywhere if all you two do is keep tripping each other. And the drug loves a good fight.

"Okay, fine. Do you really wanna do this? You really wanna fight me?" You question.

"You're the one that wants to fight." Jason huffs.

The part with the drug would love to fight you. He knows he will win but you'll put up a good fight and it'll be fun. But, the better part of him, the part that always wins when it comes to you, wants to kick his heart through his ribs and onto the cement floor. He can't fight you. He can't do it. Not you. Anyone but you.

"You're the one trying to kill someone." You quip.

"You're not gonna fucking stop me."

"I have to fucking try!" Your voice finally cracks as you yell.

"Good luck." Jason barks as he gets to his feet.

You don't really want to fight him either. Like Jason, you have that part of you that still doesn't want to cross that line, no matter what. But, Jason can't come back from killing one of your own. The Titans will never forgive that, regardless of his reason. It doesn't matter if this isn't really him. They won't forgive him because it's Jason. You don't want that for him. If your options are to fight him or let him kill Hank, you really only have one choice.

And the drug is thrilled about it.

You get to your feet, keeping a few feet between you. "If you go down for five seconds, this is it. Got it?" You offer him.

Jason lets out a cackle. "Fuck no."

"You're a better fighter, right? What the fuck are you so scared for?" You say it on purpose, knowing it'll get him to fight.

Jason eyes you for a few seconds, knowing he can't possibly say no now. The drug is winning over the logical side of him and he has to agree. But, he also knows he'll still pull his punches. Maybe you can go a few rounds and you'll get tired. Jason remembers how it feels when his version of the drug wears off and how long it usually lasts. He's not sure when you took it but he's hoping maybe a few rounds and it'll wear off a little, make you too tired to continue then neither of you have to fight your hardest. He doesn't want to and he's betting you don't either.

"Fine. Five seconds. You, too. You go down and I can finish what I started without you getting in the fucking way." Jason nods his head. "No weapons and no acid."

"Deal." You nod your head as you lift up your hoodie and unbuckle the belt with all of your knives, dropping it on the floor.

Jason pulls both guns from his holsters, walking over and putting them on a table. Then he starts pulling his own knives out of his pockets and boots, resting them with the guns before he walks back over. Jason stands three feet in front of you who's eyes haven't left him.

"Two outta three?" Jason questions and all he can hear is his heart in his ears.

"Fine." You agree, sucking in a breath. "You and me."

Jason's jaw locks. "You and me."

You and Jason stand a few feet away from each other. The two of you take a few seconds, almost contemplating if this is a good idea. This was a line Jason swore, no matter what, he'd never cross. It's you. He doesn't want to fight you but he has to do this. He doesn't have a choice. That's the thing about the anti-fear drug. He's easy to manipulate when it comes to Crane and he doesn't feel anything. Not just fear. So, he takes the first step forward and goes to trip you again but you dodge him, taking the first official swing to his face.

The two of you fight a little harder against each other than you normally do. You know you'll lose. You always did. It doesn't matter. He's better, he's faster. And the clairvoyance has a loophole. Apparently, a lot of it is rooted in fear factor, adrenaline and the anti-fear drug diminishes that. Fighting Jason without the clairvoyance is more difficult. You can't tell where the next hit is coming from and you have to be completely on defence. Maybe you should have trained a little more with Dick after all. But, you try and strike as hard and as fast as you can. You put up a good fight.

Jason is pulling his punches. You aren't in the suit. You have nothing to protect you and even though he should care more, he is not careless. He doesn't want to hurt you so he pulls his punches, despite knowing you'll never forgive him for it. And the more he pulls his punches, the better chance you stand on tiring yourself out by the time the drug starts to wear off. Jason is just buying time so he can finish Hank because he needs to. It's part of the plan. Crane said it has to happen and he has to listen. So, he keeps fighting until you go down twice, coughing and gasping.

Jason counts but it's slower than usual as you try to use your remaining energy against him to no avail. The drug might tell him this is fun and thrilling, it'll be worth it in the end. But, the real Jason hates every single second of this. It never should have been like this and if he weren't high, he would have walked away. If you weren't high, you probably would have, too. But, now you're both here bloody and bruised fighting over fucking Hank Hall.

"Five." Jason heaves from above you. His jaw is squared and he hates himself for it. "We had a deal." Jason takes in a full breath, watching your expression soften and fall, your pupils returning to normal.

You look up at him, blood pooling in your mouth and leaking from a gash on your head. Jason has blood splitting his lip and drips dropping from his nose. But, he's foggy and distant. You tried. You tried your absolute hardest and your eyes are heavy while your limps feel like the blood has been replaced with cement.

You sit up, your head spinning slightly but not the way it usually does with a concussion, this is different. You rest your hands on the floor, scooting back until your back hits the wall and you lean your head back, closing your eyes.

You're so tired. You're exhausted and all you want to do is sleep. But, the fear starts to creep back into your system. The numbness you felt is being washed away like a sandcastle on a beach while the tide comes in. And everything starts to hurt.

Everything you just said to Jason, everything he said it you. It all hurts and then fear comes in and now you're terrified you messed everything up. What happens if Crane finds out you know? Is Crane going to think Jason did it? Is he going to find a replacement? What if he wants you dead and asks Jason to do it? Where does that leave him?

Jason glances over to you as he gets the bomb readjusted. The gash doesn't seem deep, there isn't too much blood and the blood from your mouth is from a small cut on your lip. It's nothing worse than what either of you got from sparring with each other and Gar and Rachel. But, Jason watches you for a few more seconds, just being sure.

"You okay?" Jason finds it himself to ask as he places the bomb in position.

"Tired." Your voice cracks and you think about what the Titans are going to say when Hank dies.

This is your fault. You weren't fast enough and you weren't good enough. Hank is going to die because Jason was manipulated and used and put a bomb in his chest. And you were too weak to stop him. Even while high, you still pulled your punches because it's him. They're never going to forgive either of you.

"It's wearing off, isn't it?" Jason asks, his voice stern as he places the bomb in Hank's chest, following the blueprints.

"Yeah..." Your voice is so small, making Jason look back over at you. He's definitely burning that lab down.

You wonder if this is normal. If it is, how did you miss it? You wonder how much Jason actually used it for you to have not noticed. Maybe he only used it a few times and only when he was out. The drug definitely didn't last very long. You just wish you would have noticed something was wrong.

"You'll feel better in a bit." Jason states as he closes the skin around the bomb.

You fall silent, keeping your eyes closed. This can't be what a normal comedown feels like. You're somehow both so exhausted you could sleep for a week and you're terrified. Every piece of fear you had before is amplified and you're stuck between wanting to sleep and wanting to run away from everything. If you thought you could get up, you'd run out of Gotham and away from this mess. But, your head is spinning and your arms and legs hurt while your chest feels like it's going to collapse on itself.

Jason calls your name, glancing over to you again.

He knows what happens with his version. There's a comedown and it's rough. Every fear and mistake and regret floods back in a tidal wave, taking over all of the relief the drug provided all while making it impossible to stay awake. It doesn't last long, twenty minutes but Jason swears it's always long enough to keep him going back to the drug to not feel that way again. The new version has a similar effect but instead of a crash, it's slower like a stranger in the night following him and waiting for the perfect moment. With every step, he grows more uneasy and home seems further away. But, you didn't take the new version, so he keeps glancing at you just to make sure you're okay.

Maybe this whole thing was a bad idea.

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