#and he’s thinking of slinking off to stare at the replicator

[jazzfic]

[ID: Pencil drawing of Cristóbal Rios in his captain’s chair. He wearing his vest over a black shirt and is looking slightly off to one side with a thoughtful expression. / end ID]

I finished something! It’s kind of the same something as the last dozen times (what is in a face? I hear nobody ask) but we do what brings the happy.

[eggyrocks]

kageyama’s drinking water. he likes to have his head clear, unclouded. especially when everyone around him has sloppy movements and unfocused eyes. he likes to be the reliable one. the control tower.

he’s leaning against a wall with his arms crossed over his chest and trying to convince himself that he is not being weird and that his behavior is normal, fine even.

she’s on the other side of the room, laughing with her friends. he’s never seen her look so happy; the smile she has around yachi and kiyoko is so wide and bright it looks like it hurts. he can’t help but look at her when she smiles like that, even if makes his chest tighten and his head dizzy. even if it feels like staring directly at the sun.

kageyama tries to think of things he could do that would put that smile on her face. things he could say. he wants to be responsible for that look in her eyes.

there’s an elbow gently knocking into his arm and it pulls his attention away from her.

oikawa is grinning when kageyama turns to face him and the sight automatically makes him scowl. “i bet they’re talking about you.”

“shut up,” kageyama spits out, but his grip around his water tightens. “mind your business.”

“she’s too drunk for you to make a move now,” oikawa sighs, like this is an inconvenience to him. “guess ramen’s on me.”

kageyama frowns. “what are you-“

he’s cut off by another nudge to his arm. “oh but look at that,” oikawa nods towards the other side of the room, where she stands. kageyama’s gaze follows his, and he eyes find her at once. that bright, dazzling smile has been replaced by a twisted expression of disgust, and by her side not one of her friends, but a stranger. a man kageyama’s never seen before. a man she’s taking a step back from. “that’s a good chance for you to-“

he doesn’t even wait for oikawa to finish his sentence before his feet are moving in her direction.

he gets closer, and the conversation hits his ears. an unfamiliar voice coming from the stranger, “c’mon, you don’t have to be so uptight, i’m just messing around.”

and then her voice. clear and sharp and in a tone he’s never heard her speak in before. “i don’t care. go be a freak somewhere else. no one here wants to talk to you. no one here wants to give your their number. why are you embarrassing yourself? go home and learn to take no for an answer.”

kageyama stops. he watches as the stranger turns red and tries to stutter out a response before giving up, and turning on his heels to disappear among the crowd of people.

for a minute, he imagines it being him. he pictures that look of disgust directed at him, calling him a freak, calling him disgusting. rejecting him. humiliating him. he pictures it, and his skin gets cold.

but then, as she’s watching the stranger slink away, her eyes catch his. and that harsh look melts. her glare turns into a face-splitting grin at the sight of him. and it heats up his skin right back up.

“tobio!” she calls, and his heart beats in his throat. “if any dickheads like that give you a hard time, let me know, and i’ll put them in their place for you.”

it occurs to him then that he’s ridiculous for doubting her. he respects her too much to treat her like some challenge. she respects him too much to ever treat his feelings as cruelly as he fears.

something washes over him, and he can’t help but replicate the smile on her face. it feels natural to smile around her.

☆part ten: tsukkinoyahinyamyn☆

m.list

taglist: @wyrcan

(if you'd like to be added u can send me a message or an ask)

an: i kinda hate the written portion lmao

[cosmica-galaxy]

I keep on remembering of this meme and I was wondering how the Skibidi toilet Oc’s and mimics react to the human, saying

“Ya’ll actually still believe in gravity? Just walk on a wall man it’s easy”

then the human proceeds to walk on the wall next to them and now their standing on the ceiling while the rest are looking up and staring at the human

Camron would be absolutely floored! How did you walk on the walls like that? Do you have some type of new technology that helps you climb on surfaces?? Do you think you can let the alliance use it?? It would really help with the toilet battles if they could climb up everywhere! DJ is just speechless. He looks up at the human and points at them slowly again and again as he looks like he's about to come apart. How...are you using something to help you walk on walls?? What--no--HOW are you doing that? Come down here before you fall off! you'll hurt yourself doing that...with...whatever it is you're doing to do that! Vee is astonished and curious. How did you get up there?? Surely there is some form of tech at play here. Where did you get it? Is it a prototype from the lab? There is no way you are doing that without some form of aid. Who do you think you are? Some chaotic god of mischief? Get down from there before you fall and break your neck! Buddy is very confused and would tilt his head like a stumped puppy. He will try to do what you did...just...ignore gravity? Instead, he promptly slips off the wall and eats shit, hurting his lens. He lets out a few hisses before slinking away. Stupid gravity. Pal easily replicates what you've done through his climbing ability! He can only snicker as you call him a "show off" as his large form dangles effortlessly from the ceiling. Hey! When you're born to climb, you're born to climb! Fiend is stuck to the ceiling and will flash a middle finger at you before scuttling away down the hall on the ceiling. He can be just as chaotic as you! You're not so special after all! Nyeeh!

[ink-and-dagger]

At least we can always count on @chickenparm to make our day a little worse. You're my forever inspiration bby 🖤

The Sphincter of Zaun

Silco x Reader || Crack-fic || Farting to assert dominance

You knew pinto beans for lunch was a bad idea.

And as is the way of the universe; the consequences of such terrible decisions always catch up with you eventually. The repercussions of your delicious but risky mid-day meal arrive in the form of a gurgle in the depths of your stomach.

You shift in your seat upon the red sofa and shoot a surreptitious glance over towards the desk, but the Eye of Zaun is far too engrossed in his ledgers to notice your digestive distress. Thank Janna.

You exhale in muted relief.

But for the second time today, your decision making is poor. You should know better than to relax when trapped pockets of bean gas are wreaking havoc on your bowels.

It's hardly an impressive fart, (with concentrated effort, you're able to replicate the splendour of a Jim Morrison scream), but in the quiet office it feels earth-shattering. You squeeze your asscheeks together in a desperate attempt to put an end to this pinto-fuelled nightmare, but it only causes your flatulence to rise drastically in pitch – tapering off in a soprano trill until it's punctuated by a final pitiful squeak.

Silco's gaze rises from his paperwork, painfully slowly, to meet yours. And all you can do is stare right back. Wide-eyed and mortified. You can't even bring yourself to breathe. (Mainly because you don't want him to think you're checking out your own handiwork).

"Rather uncouth, don't you think?"

Silco's deadpan drawl only increases your desire for immediate death. You've a sudden urge to crawl through the Undercity in search of an even deeper fissure to slink down into, like a roach fleeing the sunlight.

Embarrassed beyond comprehension, and desperately attempting to stay put in your seat despite the adrenaline urge to flee – you reach instead for your go-to defence mechanism. Humour.

Too bad that you aren't actually very funny.

"What's the matter? Jealous? Bet you can't manage more than a dusty little waft with that sorry tortilla tuchus of yours."

The world falls into complete and utter silence, other than the razor sching of Silco's gaze honing to a lethal sharpness. He rises slowly from his chair, and his gold-tipped boots click an unhurried, ominous tempo as he rounds the desk.

An absent part of you prays that the smell of your fart has dissipated. But you're mostly captured by the sheer magnetic power of the man stalking towards you, and the heat that pools in your lower belly now has very little to do with pinto beans.

Silco arrives in front of you; severe, lean, and looming. The cast of his shadow lengthens as he bends closer, resting a hand on the back of the sofa beside your shoulder, and harshly capturing your jaw with the other.

Your heart lodges in your throat at the penetrating intensity of his dual-eyes drilling into yours. You couldn't look away even if you wanted to. His fingers dig into your skin as the silence stretches.

Minutes or moments pass, until it finally seems as though he might speak. Diaphragm shifting slightly beneath his gilded waistcoat, mouth tensing as though in preparation to form words. But none come.

Instead, Silco lets rip the nastiest, foulest, ass aria that you could ever imagine. Your hair lifts away from your face, and flaps in the gale-force blast of his deathly, harmonic expulsion – all at once the most beautiful and horrifying thing you've ever heard, like a thousand screaming angels. The paintings on the office wall rattle in their frames at the sheer magnitude of his digestive capabilities, at least a 6 on the Richter scale. And your eyes water both in sheer awe of his unbridled dominance, but also at the tidal-wave stench that hits you; cigar ashes, loca mocha java monster energy drink, and kalamata olives.

With a final push that momentarily strains the scarred trenches upon his face, he concludes his transcendent fart in a blaze of fervid, vibrato glory.

Silence once more falls to blanket the room, and you blink up at him. Lashes heavy with awe-stricken tears, and mouth hanging agape.

Silco leans closer, and his gaze is as hot as the sparks you swore you saw shooting out of his ass.

"Do not ever underestimate me again."

[ezzydean]

tricks or treats - SouNagiHaru

come trick-or-treat in my inbox requesting ficcies and I’ll either treat you to some fluff or humor or trick you with a horribly twisted sad AU  (I’ll use a random generator to pick trick or treat) send me “trick or treat” and a character(s) or ship in my inbox and I’ll write you a short little thing (I’ll be doing these all of October so send away!)

treat (i think?)

Nagisa looks up and watches as the setting sun works its magic on the sky.  Brushing the clouds with colors he can’t begin to describe and will never be able to replicate even in his dreams.  He sits and stares and watches the colors turn vibrant and then darken slowly until he blinks and sees stars shimmering in the blackness.

He hears the footsteps a moment before he feels the presence behind him but he doesn’t look away from the sky.

“I’ll only warn you once,” Sousuke says.  His voice is another layer of darkness settling over the land and slinking between the trees of the forest behind them.  “Go.  Now.”

Nagisa shakes his head.  “No.”

“Then it’s done.”  Sousuke steps forward and Nagisa leans back against Sousuke’s legs.  “It’s done,” he promises as the stars shiver and the world goes dark.

—

Nagisa drapes himself over the back of the couch, and Sousuke’s shoulder, with a whine.

“I’m tired.”

“Then go to sleep.”  Nagisa pouts.  “Stop that.”  Nagisa pouts even more.  “I regret so much,” Sousuke grumbles.  But he’s smiling as he twists and pulls Nagisa into his arms before standing and walking to the bedroom.  “So, so much.”

Nagisa laughs and wraps his arms around Sousuke’s neck.

“You say that all the time.  I’m starting to think you’re lying.”

Starlight paints their bedroom ceiling with specks of silver that ripple softly as they tumble onto the bed and curl up under their blankets.

“You know when I’m lying,” Sousuke says, hands warm against Nagisa’s cool skin.  “You always have.”

—

Nagisa jerks up, eyes darting along the shoreline.  Sousuke rolls onto his side and squints at Nagisa before turning his gaze to the shore.

“He’s here,” Nagisa whispers.

“You sure?”

Nagisa reaches for Sousuke’s hand and tangles their fingers together.

“As sure as I was when I found you.”  A dark haired man wanders past them, blue eyes barely registering them before skittering off toward something else.

But they registered.  It was small.  But it was there.

He saw them.

—

“I couldn’t do that to you,” Haru says.  “I couldn’t take… no.”

Nagisa smiles up at him and tilts his head.  Haru and Sousuke are so much more alike than they like to admit.  He still remembers Sousuke’s initial protests all those years ago.  His fear that he’d take too much of Nagisa.  His worry that Nagisa would feel trapped.

Haru doesn’t get it, not yet.  He will in time.  Just like Sousuke.

“Is it really taking when it’s willingly given?”

Haru shakes his head and walks away.  Nagisa isn’t worried.

—

The stars overhead are dim, valiantly trying to hang on as sunrise creeps ever closer.

“I won’t ask again,” Haru promises.  “Run while you can.”

“No.” Nagisa stares at the sky.

“Then tell me everything.”  Haru sinks to the ground and curls around Nagisa, grabbing his hand as Sousuke steps up behind them.

“You want to hear everything?”

“Yes.”  The sun rises and the world holds its breath.  “Everything.”

[sgtjbbhasmyheart]

Drunk Texting Is(n’t) Bad for Your Health- Chapter Three

Series Summary: Talk about your unconventional meet-cute! Bucky receives a text by mistake requesting he prove he's not Reader's sister. The easy dialogue between Reader and Bucky sparks a natural friendship, but could it lead to more? Bucky still deems himself unworthy of any form of affection or love. Reader is hellbent to prove him wrong. With the help of some (meddling) friends along the way, Bucky may get his happily-ever-after after all.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1740

Warnings: Nosy (and well-meaning) friends acting like nosy siblings, angst, bad language words

A/N: After I originally posted this chapter on AO3, I got some comments that exacerbated the beginnings of a year long depression. Please be kind. I intended this chapter to come across as the gang being like siblings...always being in each other’s business. Is there a breach of privacy? Yes, but without the ill-intent. 

DO NOT copy or replicate without permission

Bucky clutched his phone in his flesh hand as he made his way down a long hallway to the communal kitchen and eating area. A soft, crooked smile rested at his lips as he entered the space. Natasha and Sam were sitting at opposite ends of the rectangular table separating the kitchen from the lounge, enjoying a late breakfast. Steve was at a kitchen counter fiddling with the Keurig machine. He pulled another mug from the cupboard when he saw Bucky approach. “Mornin’, Buck. Sleep well?”

Bucky’s grin broadened as he leaned his backside against the countertop. “I did, actually. Thanks for asking,” he answered, looking to his phone at the incoming text.

(Y/N) Would you rather have skin that changes color based on your emotions or tattoos appear all over your body, depicting what you did the day before?

He missed the way Sam and Nat looked at each other in suspicion at his answer to Steve. He was too busy pressing the keys on his touch-screen.

Bucky The tattoos would be awkward, speaking from a male’s perspective, so I think color changing would be better. Not by much, though.

Bucky Would you rather have edible spaghetti hair that regrows every night or sweat maple syrup?

Bucky saw Steve slide the new mug, now filled with coffee, across the granite-top toward him from the corner of his eye. He glanced up quickly from the screen and nodded. “Thanks, buddy.” Steve answered with a smile.

“What, no grunted thanks or mumbled acknowledgment?” Natasha quipped, standing from her seat to place her plate in the dishwasher.

“Yeah, man. You have been using way too many words lately. I miss the grumpy dude that would brood in the corner,” Sam added, crossing his arms at his chest. “Are we even sure this is the right Bucky?”

Bucky’s phone vibrated again.

(Y/N) I love me some spaghetti! Can you imagine sweating sticky, gooey maple syrup during a humid New York summer?? Your clothes would be toast.

(Y/N) Mmmm, french toast.

Bucky chuckled at the reply, drawing the attention of three sets of eyes.

Sam wasn’t wrong; he wasn’t the same Bucky.

It had been five days since (Y/N)’s first drunken texts. Five days. He couldn’t believe so little time had passed. Somehow, (Y/N) had wiggled her way under his skin.

He had noticed after only a day or two; he was smiling more, less volatile. He felt lighter, happier. He wasn’t skulking about the compound like usual, trying to avoid the rest of the team. Some might go as far as to say he was friendlier than usual.

It felt good to have someone, a friend, learning about the real James Buchanan Barnes, for once, without the threat of The Soldier clouding their perception of him.

“You’re freaking me out, man. Straight outta Invasion of the Body Snatchers or some shit,” Sam declared, rising from his chair.

“Hold on, Sam,” Steve placated, lifting a hand to the advancing man. “I’m sure there’s a logical explanation to Bucky’s good mood lately.”

Bucky set his jaw in frustration, the muscles ticking. He wasn’t a Pod Person. He was just happy, for the first time in seventy-five years.

His phone went off again.

(Y/N) Would you rather sneeze once every hour, on the hour, or burp every time you saw an attractive girl?

A wide smile split his mouth as he scanned the screen.

Bucky Am I sneezing in my sleep or just when I’m awake?

When Bucky brought his gaze back up to his teammates, he noticed Natasha’s own eyes flick down to his phone. The slightest smirk curved the corner of her lips.

“It’s curious,” she said, a perfect eyebrow inched higher to her hairline. “All the people you text are in this room, yet, you haven’t been able to pull yourself away from your phone.” Her eye contact never wavered from Bucky’s face. “Don’t ya think that’s odd, fellas?”

“Natalia,” Bucky warned, his voice gruff. He knew she was fishing.

Sam laughed boisterously. “Yeah, I noticed that the other day. It’s glued to your hip nowadays.”

“It could be anyone from the team, guys,” Steve reasoned. “I bet it’s Tony.”

Bucky became increasingly agitated as the redhead slinked closer, passing his phone back and forth between his hands.

Natasha shook her head in the negative. “Nuh-uh,” she said, leaning against the counter directly beside Bucky. A hair’s breadth of space separated their shoulders from one another. Tipping back, with her elbows propped against the hard surface, she kicked her legs out casually and crossed her feet at the ankle. “Those two have barely said two words to each other since the good Sergeant here was welcomed back into the fold. It’s not Tony.”

“That still doesn’t prove anything,” Steve replied, taking a sip of his coffee.

“I bet it’s a girl,” Sam said in a sing-song voice. “But, where would Ice Man here meet a girl?”

Natasha smiled while looking at Sam as he stepped closer to the trio. “Let’s find out, shall we?” She nodded to Sam and, without batting an eye, lunged at Bucky.

She tapped the underside of the hand holding the phone, causing the device to flip up into the air.

Though he hadn’t seen the attack coming, Bucky’s reflexes were cat-like, and he easily caught the phone in his opposite hand.

Unfortunately, Natasha was just as quick and knocked the phone from his hand again. She effortlessly swatted it out of the air and into her hand. As Bucky clamored to retrieve the cell phone, she swung her arm behind her back and tossed it into the waiting hands of Sam.

By looking at Sam’s broad smile, Bucky knew he was having a field day at his expense. He pounced on his teammate, grappling for possession of the device. He wasn’t sorry for elbowing the other man harder than he ever would if they were sparring each other. He needed his fucking phone back!

Sam managed to flick the phone over his other shoulder in the process of Bucky grabbing ahold of Sam’s wrist and twisting the same arm behind his body. It clattered to the ground at Steve’s feet.

As everyone stared at the cell phone lying prone on the tile floor, Sam backed Bucky into the cabinets, trapping him with his body. “Let me go, Bird Brain!” Bucky huffed.

Steve bent to pick the phone up, holding it in his hand. Bucky could see the war playing within Steve’s blue eyes as he struggled against Sam. Steve was just as curious as the other two but didn’t want to betray his friend.

Natasha quickly snatched the device from Steve and started thumbing at the screen.

“Maybe we shouldn’t,” Steve protested.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you to put a passcode on your phone, Barnes?” Natasha tsked as she navigated to the messaging app.

Bucky knew the exact second she found what she was looking for because her eyes became comically wide. A feral, shit-eating grin crossed her mouth as she raised a brow again.

“Tell me about (Y/N).”

“What?” Steve questioned, crowding the red head. “Lemme see.”

Bucky felt his cheeks go aflame as Natasha angled the screen so Steve could see the message thread. They burned hotter as Steve looked up with his own shit-eating smirk.

“Well, well…” Sam piped up. “If your faces are anything to go by, Vanilla Ice’s still got game.” Bucky twisted his arm back further in retaliation causing Sam to grunt in discomfort.

Bucky watched as Natasha’s thumb skimmed along the screen to delve deeper into past messages. Her thumb stopped as she read a passage; her green eyes rapidly followed the lines of text.

“I always kinda figured you’d be into someone that would call you out on your BS. She sounds fun,” Natasha said as she continued to scroll.

“No one’s into anyone. We’re just friends,” Bucky murmured.

Steve’s head shot up to stare at his best friend, sorrow painting his features. He edged away from Natasha. “Does she know who you are?” he asked.

Bucky shook his head no. “And she never will.”

“Aww, but you guys sound so cute together,” Natasha pouted. Bucky frowned at the insinuation. It couldn’t ever happen.

“There aren’t any rules saying we can’t date,” Natasha mentioned. “Hell, you know how many times I tried to set up this big lug?” She motioned to Steve with her thumb.

“That’s different,” Bucky said after a few moments. He eased up slightly on Sam’s arm.

“How so?”

Bucky rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, the blush starting again. “He’s Captain America, and well, I’m not. Not exactly everyone’s favorite.” He downcast his eyes to the floor.

“Buck, you know that’s not true,” Steve said woefully. “It’ll just take some time.”

“I know, Stevie. Until then, though, I’m still a pariah.”

The super soldier serum couldn’t have been given to a better person, but Bucky always felt like he would be trapped in Steve’s shadow, no matter the amount of good he did. He would still feel weak for what Hydra did to him, or not good enough to be labeled Captain America’s best friend.

Feeling the room take a considerable turn toward somber, Natasha called out, “Holy shit, Barnes! You used Wilson’s toothbrush to clean your toilet?”

“What?!” all three male voices cried out.

Sam rushed forward, trying to see the proof for himself. “You’re a dead man!”

Freed from the weight of Sam’s body, Bucky leaped forward toward Natasha and Sam. Slamming into Sam’s back, he snaked an arm around the other man, reaching frantically for his phone. He was done with them spying on his non-existent personal life.

Bucky smacked against Sam’s hands and arms, trying to dislodge the device.

“Stop!” Sam bellowed. “You’re hitting me like an eleven-year-old girl!”

“Gimme back my phone!” Bucky shouted.

Suddenly, the sound of ringing filled the small space of the kitchen. The scuffling stopped in an instant as everyone tried to figure out where the noise was coming from. Sam glimpsed down at his hands and jumped apart from Bucky as if he’d been burned. He looked horrified!

“Oh, shit!” Sam exclaimed, shoving the phone back at Bucky.

“What did you do?!” Bucky screeched when he realized the ringing was coming from his phone on speaker.

The sound ended abruptly, only to be replaced with the gentle tinkle of a woman’s voice.

“James?”

Chapter Two | Chapter Four

Tag List:

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[random-mha-thoughts]

Mama’s Boy/Lover’s Boy (Bakugou x Reader)

Pairing: Bakugou x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Inspo: “Down for You” by Cosmo’s Midnight/Ruel

Summary: Bakugou hates being dragged to fancy parties for many reasons, but only one thing makes it all worth it.

Word Count: 2,322

Tags:  @yuki-osaki​ @liviitehe​ @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog​ @bunnythepipsqueak​

a/n:  I absolutely adore this picture, ngl that was the whole inspo for this.

It's not fair that a whole Katsuki exists while I'm bleeding out and my hormones are out of whack.  I'M A LOYAL SHOUTO HO, STAY IN YOUR LANE KATSUKI!  DON'T TAKE ADVANTAGE OF MY INSTABILITY LIKE THIS!

When I was at the last few paragraphs, I realized I would've loved to let Baku lose his shit and almost crash the entire thing like in Murphy's Law (man I loved writing that), but that wouldn't be good.  We love a good chaotic fluff monster.

This turned out a lot longer than I thought it would, but I really like how it turned out!  Definitely more fluff than I expected, but who's mad at that?  I'm bleeding out of my uterus and my mom and dad got me feverish and sick and I definitely needed this, so I KNOW you Baku stans are gushing at this too.  Thanks to @rubyred-imagines​ for one of the story beats here!

Spice might be incoming in the next day or two ;3  Not sure which character yet, but it's gonna happen!

"Babe, your face."

"What about it?!"

"Stop looking like you want to kill everyone."

"But I do!"

"I know you do, but don't look it."

Katsuki walks into the grand hall, muscular arm linked through his dazzling girlfriend's slender one.  He really doesn't want to be here; he hates these high-class, uptight gatherings, he hates this constricting tuxedo he has to wear, he hates how he barely knows anyone here, and he especially hates that he could've been on a date with her alone instead of being surrounded by these suffocating faces.

His lovely girlfriend announced this unfortunate outing a few weeks ago right before Katsuki was going to suggest the idea of having a date night, since they haven't had any quality alone time together in a while.  Her eyes lit up when she reported that she RSVP-ed for both of them to attend her company's fancy dinner.  And his plans were crushed like that.  He wanted to grumble and refuse, but she'd yell right back at him anyway, being the stubborn person she is.

She reminds him of his mother.

"You're just like my mom," Katsuki rolls his eyes.  "She used to drag me to her company dinners all the time, too."

"We won't stay for long, I promise," she pats his arm with her perfectly manicured fingernails.

"She used to say that too, and then we'd be out for hours," he mumbles to himself.

The girl looks up at him sweetly.  "And you'll be a good boyfriend and stay here with me the whole time, right?"

The blond growls low in his throat.  "I don't even belong here, you were invited, not me."

"Katsuki, you're my guest, of course you belong here."  She leans up to whisper in his ear, "Besides, you're more handsome than any of the guys here, show them all up."

That makes Katsuki smirk.  "Damn right I am, babe."

The couple find their table after an irritating amount of time.  Every few steps, some other pretentious stranger from his girlfriend's company sweeps over to exchange empty kisses and the same empty conversation.  Katsuki thinks it's some kind of script everyone practiced from, no one deviating from the script or else the entire simulation might fall apart.  Actually, he would like to say something inappropriate just to relish their horrified or disgusted faces, but he for the sake of his precious girlfriend, he keeps his mouth shut, teeth grit, and smile plastered each time he's introduced to a new face.

"Do you really know everyone here, babe?" Katsuki mutters in her ear as they finally approach the table.

"Not everyone," she hums in response, "I don't know most of the employees from the other two companies here, but I know the higher-ups through my boss."

He briefly remembers her saying this dinner was for a big merger deal between these three companies.  His girlfriend works tirelessly for her boss, usually taking on more than she can handle and coming home late most nights.  She'd been promoted from just being a regular company worker to being in a near-the-top position right under the main board managers.  He admires her dedication, but he's always worried about her health and energy level.  He may be a Pro Hero, but she's the real superhuman in the relationship.

Katsuki does the gentlemanly thing of pulling the chair out for his lady and pushing her back in before settling in his seat next to her, purposely shifting closer to her than the person on his other side.

"What manners your boyfriend has," one of the older ladies at the table coos at the couple.

"Thank you, I'm very grateful to have him," the girl smiles politely in response.

Katsuki's heart melts at the pride dripping from her voice as she compliments him.  "And I'm very lucky to have her."  It felt like the right thing to say as he squeezes her hand under the table and briefly glances into her eyes.

The two don't tear away from each other until someone else approaches his girlfriend and she stands to greet him briefly.  Katsuki surveys him in case he would do something ballsy to his girlfriend.

She turns and places a hand on Katsuki's shoulder.  "This is my boyfriend, Katsuki Bakugou."

Hell yeah, I am, you better not pull anything, dumbass.  He stands and shakes the other man's hand, polite but stiff.

"Nice to meet you.  Your girlfriend is honestly a powerhouse, she's amazing," the man gushes.

"Yes, I'm aware," the blond replies tersely.  He's on guard because he doesn't get a good vibe from this man.

Sure enough, he goes on a little too animatedly about how much his girlfriend does for the company and the rest of the company.  It comes off to Katsuki as fake and kiss-ass.  Nonetheless, his girlfriend accepts all the compliments like the graceful goddess she is.  He realizes this boy is one of his girlfriend's juniors as they descend into a conversation surrounding work and future projects.

After dismissing him, another group of his girlfriend's underlings rushes over with compliments and "Oh my gosh, senpai!  You look amazing!" and the like.  Each time, she would accept the praise, introduce him, before launching into more work-related subject matter that Katsuki learned to tune out eventually.

Honestly, he's annoyed at how everyone here is overwhelmingly toxic.  All the subordinates or peers are kiss-ups and her superiors are pretentious stick-up-their-asses that look down on his girlfriend.  He can't stand that his lover is surrounded by this atmosphere all day.  They don't know the genuine type of person she is, other than that she's kind and easy to walk all over.  No one seems like they care enough to carry genuine conversation, and he'd rather not tune into that energy.

Instead, Katsuki directs his attention to his lovely girlfriend.  Staring at her face, he recalls how painstakingly long it took for her to paint her face with makeup to look this flawless.  He's sure she would've had a mental breakdown while doing her eyes, especially putting on her eyeliner.  She was chanting to herself cutely to get them even, almost coaxing her shaky hands in front of the mirror to perform some kind of magic.  If he had done the wrong thing and hurried her or teased her habits, she would've unleashed all her anger on him.  He's learned that the hard way.  In the end, she was able to achieve this masterpiece on her face without making herself look like a completely different person, highlighting her natural beauty.

Scanning downward to her dress, he remembers fondly going shopping with her last weekend.  Her hair was in a topknot as she fumbled through the racks for a dress to wear.  She had dragged him along because she trusted his opinion on fashion choices.  While he would've liked for her to choose a scarlet red gown, Katsuki knew she'd look infinitely better in the sapphire blue number she's wearing now.  The skinny straps holding the dress up leads down to a not-too-plunging neckline that suits her shoulders, collarbone, and chest perfectly.  The dress cinches in at the waist to emphasize the figure he knows she has before falling straight down from her hips, and the mid-thigh slit on one side is subtly sexy without having her risk overexposure.  Finishing the entire outfit is a classic pair of nude pumps, a dainty gold necklace, matching dangling earrings, and a clutch matching her shoes.  Her hair is curled in waves cascading down her back with some stands hanging over one shoulder.

Katsuki can't help but smile unconsciously.  He can't wait to someday place the finishing touch she deserves: a simple but elegant ring on her left hand.

After all the formalities, the two finally sit down and start eating the dinner courses that have started gracing their place settings.

"I know you wanted to go out for date night today," his girlfriend begins gently, "But we can imagine this is a fancy restaurant with just us two, and everything else is just a backdrop."

"Shouldn't you be paying attention to what's going on?" Katsuki quirks an eyebrow.

She waves her hand and takes a refined sip of her wine.  "I've already heard them practice this speech too many times."

The devilish blond smirks and slinks closer to her.  "That's not something a good employee would do, is it?"

"I'm not working right now," she smoothly responds back, replicating his energy.

The organizer of the dinner finally takes the stage and starts his speech.  Katsuki keeps his gaze on his beautiful girlfriend, admiring her delicately picking and eating at her plate.  She's so precious to him, he doesn't care if he's making heart eyes and everyone can see.

When the speech finishes, his girlfriend's glass also empties and she indicates that she's going to get another.  It leaves him on edge, he hates being alone with all these strangers even for a few minutes.  He doesn't want to tell you this, but if one of these people try to small talk him without you here, he might actually break something.

"So, Bakugou, what do you do?" the same lady from earlier chirps at him.

He whips his head up.  For fuck's sake.  "I'm a...public safety worker of sorts."  He tries so hard to sound polite for his girlfriend's sake.  He also can't resist scanning the room for her as a safety reflex.  With all the shady people around, he doesn't trust that something bad won't happen.  And he also wants your comfort in these uncomfortable situations, but he'll never admit that either.

"Oh, I see."  The old lady seems satisfied with his tone, barely noticing his fidgeting as she launches into a whole story about her grandson wanting to do something like that, and all the tangents related to that.

Katsuki is relieved that he doesn't have to talk for the rest of the time, just nodding along  and humming to prove he's passively listening.  He finally spots his angel a few tables away, groaning internally that she was stopped by someone, keeping her from coming back to him.  It seems they were having a deep conversation at first, but suddenly the man cracks a smile and a joke that makes her cover her mouth in respectful laughter.

Katsuki's annoyance is cut through at her wholehearted display of emotions.  The entire night, he's been complaining about how much he hates everyone here, but it's only now he realizes how relaxed she looks in the entire situation.  She's completely in her element; he'd get easily drained by all the suffocating small talk, but her?  She thrives off this, she gains energy from it.  Although she comes home late, overworked and tired, she still faces every day with a smile on her face.  She makes it look so easy to talk to people, striking up and following conversations with everyone in the most endearing and poised way possible.

Katsuki smiles to himself, warmth washing over him.  Yes, just like his mom, but it makes his girlfriend all the more stunning and admirable in his eyes.

His girlfriend finally returns to the table, her recently-acquired glass already half empty.  "What did I miss?" she asks, buzzing with both energy and alcohol.

Katsuki leans his head on his palm.  "Nothing much."  He's still basking in the glow of his wonderful girlfriend, casually sipping his own wine absently.

She turns towards the clearing in the center of the room and takes his free hand.  "Let's go dance, babe!"

Any other time, Katsuki would have sternly declined, but he can't resist her today.  Without a single complaint, he rises and lets her drag him by their entwined hands to the dance floor.  Guiding his large hand around her waist as her one hand plants to his shoulder, she raises their joined hands and starts swaying them to the classic orchestral ensemble's upbeat performance.

The man doesn't know if it's the overwhelming feeling of pride he recently uncovered, or the way their bodies press together gently as he inhales her floral perfume, but he can't find the words to describe everything he wants to say. He settles on simply smiling warmly down at her as he whispers, "You're amazing, you know that?"

His girlfriend's cheeks flush and she erupts into giggles.  "What's with the sudden compliment?"

He shakes his head.  "I just realized it, that's all.  Just like my mom."

"You sure are a Mama's boy, aren't you?"

He scoffs at the idea.  "I love the old hag, but I'll never tell her that.  Besides, I'd say I'm whipped for a different woman in my life."  He brushes hair behind her ear, her earring glinting against the light, and places a kiss on her perfect temple.  "You look stunning tonight."

His girlfriend's eyes close in half-lidded affection.  "I'm sorry this isn't the perfect date night you wanted."

The blond leans his forehead on her's, slowing their pace to allow time to pass much more leisurely around them.  "I get to dance with you, I think that's a definite win."

"I guess so."

Katsuki comes to realize that he can be forced to come to all of these events.  All that matters is his enchanting lover and her smile.  When the night is over, he can't wait to let her take her heels off and carry her bridal style to their car as everyone watches in envy and awe.  He'd let her recline and rest her weary feet, telling her stories of his adventures of night outings with his mom to lull her to sleep in his passenger seat.  And then he'd carry her sleeping figure up to their bedroom and wake her gently so she can clean herself up and change into her cute pajamas, just so they can cuddle in each other's warmth until they fall asleep.

Maybe he's not a Mama's boy anymore.  More like he's a Lover's boy.

[matildashoney]

Watermelon and Some Sugar

MASTERLIST // MOODBOARD // TAG LIST // TAGS // PLAYLIST

TAG LIST: @detroitkiwis, @ihearthemcallingforyou, @goldenfeelin

talk to me about it!

there’s no excuse for this. watermelon sugar came out. i saw this picture. i had an idea. it’s all smut. have fun.

Malibu is too windy to be wearing a bikini under a half-sorted umbrella, yet Amelie is there, knees propped, toes in the hot sand, sunglasses perched on her nose and she sketches the shoreline of the beach near their home. Harry wanted to film in golden hour when the sun was setting, and the waves were crashing. Having a break from murals and exhibitions for a few days, Harry wore Amelie down, many heated kisses measured carefully between begging until she was falling apart in his hands and agreeing to anything that came out (or onto) his mouth.

“Puis-je les emprunter? Merci,” Harry smirks, nodding towards Amelie’s glasses perched on her nose and leaning down to take the heart-shaped sunglasses from her. “Bisous, s’il vous plait.”

Amelie squints at Harry, trying to gauge why his actions are so sweet and asking for the kisses. Usually, he would walk right up to her and take her sunglasses, kiss her lips without warning, and continue about with what he was doing. “Harry, a quel point cette vidéo est-elle érotique?”

“’s not that erotic,” Harry shrugs, gently brushing sand over Amelie’s toes and nudging her calf. “Offer is still there for you to be in it. Harry brought an extra suit for y’a.”

Her head tilts towards her chest, her eyes blinking at the man hovering over her, his body crouching down and setting his hands on her knees. “Are you fucking insane?” Her lips purse in a straight line as his hands gently pry her thighs apart, kissing the inside of her legs lightly. “Harry, this is your warning.”

His chuckle rumbles through his chest, his lips pecking her knee before squeezing her thigh and standing. “Offer is there. Thank you for the sunnies. Je t’aime.”

“Go on. Go make the entire globe horny. Go,” Amelie smiles, her heart warm as Harry turns around to chastely kiss her lips. “Go, baby.”

And Harry goes, and the music video is much more than Amelie thought it would be. Not that she gets jealous often, or jealous ever, really, but there is something about seeing Harry with beautiful women (and men) falling over him, feeding him watermelon, his fingertip tracing the outline, juice dripping down his chin, that makes her stomach twist in an unsettling way. Amelie knows that Harry would never do anything, there’s a reason that there’s a ring on her finger and her initial on his skin, but there is something about the sight that makes her skin crawl.

Maybe it’s because Harry didn’t have time to satisfy her that morning, rushing out of the house for meetings and the final gathering of all the costumes and outfits for the evening, making it their third or fourth day (not that she was counting) without properly tasting each other. Having sex in the shower before a meeting or Harry’s fingers between her thighs while watching a movie doesn’t necessarily feel the same as really immersing in her heat – tongue first, nose second.

Going on five years in a relationship, Amelie halfway expected Harry to get bored with their sex, and yet every time they’re together – whether that be in bed, in the car, in the kitchen, in the shower, in the pool, in the dressing room backstage – there is something about the way his lips burn on her skin and his fingers trail between her thighs to simply get a taste, that would tell her differently.

On the days that Harry will be out of the house until late at night, his fingers inch into her panties in the morning and drag between her thighs, his middle and third fingers circling her heat and barely inching into her warmth to have a ‘proper taste’ because the arousal that sits between her lips isn’t enough. On the days that Harry is especially needy, his throat will wake up dry, thirsty, begging for his one craving to fulfil his desire. On those days, he gently inches her panties down her thighs, slinking his head under the duvet and prying her legs as far apart as they’ll go, his nose nudging the bundle of nerves and his tongue dipping into her, a moan leaving their lips all at once.

Harry was slinking beneath the covers and onto his knees, happily, whenever she mentioned so. His eyes widened like he was being gifted a royal purchase, his favourite meal, his most loved sweet. He very much so got off on the idea of pleasuring her, especially since Amelie’s confidence inspired her moans to echo around the walls of their bedroom and her fingers to find space in his hair. He was addicted to it – to the taste, to the sound, to the feeling.

Amelie only heard “Watermelon Sugar” before the release on Saturday Night Live because Harry needed to listen to the final cut in the car and she happened to be with him. Her excitement geared towards waiting until the single or album was out. That’s what she did with Harry Styles, anyways. And as soon as “Watermelon Sugar” started playing, her jaw dropped, all the innuendos and implications that only she would understand. Her strawberry chapstick in the centre console, the night in June where they went to the beach late at night and Harry ate her out with watermelon juice stuck to his chin. Her memory traces back to the moment Harry wiped his mouth on his hand, kissing the flower on her hip and the moon on her sternum, his lips hovering over hers as he whispered, Don’t I could ever go without that. Amelie laughed at him, playfully nudging his cheek to turn away from her, only for Harry’s face to slink back between her thighs and taste, again.

And since then, Harry’s been innuendo after innuendo, teasing that if Amelie wasn’t nice, they would insert her moans in the track of a song. Hearing “Watermelon Sugar” for the first time, she was surprised that Harry hadn’t done that, merely saying that it had a better beat or sounded smoother than what he could recreate.

Amelie, unlike Harry, never experienced the twinge of jealousy. Occasionally, there was the one or two women that would approach Harry when she stepped away and would try to talk to him, but there was always the comfort that their hands would never be on him, lips never touching his skin. On this beach in Malibu, however, is a completely new territory.

Harry frolicked around the beach with the lovely women and men, their skin shining and their bikinis and shorts tight to their bodies in the fading sunlight. His lips doused in watermelon and juice and strawberries. Kisses on his cheeks and his curls tugged to attention as the song plays over and over. His ripped jeans are sitting perfectly beneath his tummy, the ferns that she has left one too many love bites on display. Her eyes travel alongst his body, his muscular back tensing and loosening beneath the touches that are given, his figure laying on their legs, tossed around in their arms.

Amelie’s stares at him between pencil strokes and light shading, the scenery on the sketch replicating the beach they know so well. Her lips pull into a straight line, an unfamiliar twinge in her belly, a want to go and grab his cheeks and kiss him in a way only she can, to slip her hand in his shorts and feel him harden in her grasp and squeeze a moan out of his throat as she lightly kisses his chin sitting uneasily on her chest. Amelie wants to say that her thighs are aching to have him between, to have him stretching her, to have him tasting her, to attribute her want to publicly bite his lips and mark his skin to that, but it isn’t Amelie is jealous.

Quite jealous.

Her thoughts are swirling in her head as Harry walks towards her, holding a new slice of watermelon and tossing a peace sign towards her, his lips quirked in a smirk as her eyes visibly trail across his exposed skin. “Like what you see?”

“Eh,” Amelie shrugs, taking a picture on the polaroid camera tucked away in her bag, rolling her eyes as Harry makes a point to stand directly in front of the sun beaming down on her. “I’m trying to tan.”

“Tu vas me laisser te baiser pendant que nous déjeunons?” Harry wonders hopefully, his dimple indenting his cheek as he smirks, the sunglasses perched in his hair as he ducks his head under the umbrella. “S’il vous plait.”

“No, you cannot fuck me while everyone eats lunch.” Amelie rolls her eyes at Harry, knowing that his reasoning for asking in another language is simply to persuade her easier. “You had your chance, this morning, but left before I could even wake up.”

“Doll,” he whines, laying his hands on her knees and his chin on his forearms, his knees laying on the fringe of the blanket on the sand, “‘m so hard.”

“Maybe you should go rub one out before you have to finish, then,” she smirks, her belly swirling with butterflies as his eyes squeezed shut and his lips pursed for a kiss, only to have her trail across his groin and squeeze his thigh. “Have work to get done.”

“Hey, that was mean,” Harry breathes, his hands inching down her thighs and his thumbs rubbing lightly over her heat through the clothing. “Think two can play at your game, here, love.”

Amelie sucks in a shaky breath, her teeth biting her cheek as Harry’s fingers nearly sink into the sides of her bikini bottoms. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Mhm, sure you don’t, angel. You’ll pay for that later,” he hums, kissing her knee and snapping the material on her thighs, her chest panting with his touch and his shorts noticeably more comfortable around his groin and thighs. “Love you.”

And Amelie swears that a music video has never taken longer to shoot. Near the end of the shoot, Harry Lambert tells her that there are a few shots that they have to take of Harry alone, and they’ll be a bit longer. Nodding understandingly, she tells him that she’s going to go home and grab dinner – because five years later and she still barely cooks a normal meal without him home – for when they’re finished.

Harry kisses Amelie goodbye, smirking as she gathers all of their belongings and tucks it away into their car, making a show with how slowly she unties the bikini beneath her shirt and her chest breathes beneath the fabric. He wants nothing more than to walk to her and wrap his lips around her nipple and suck, bite the flesh and leave indigo marks on her skin to see tomorrow.

All Harry wanted was to devour her, and Amelie was surely not going to make it that easy for him.

Nearly two hours later, Harry tosses his keys into the metal bowl next to the door, toeing his shoes onto the mat and locking the door for the night. He can hear the music playing on the stereo outside, a smirk tugging on his lips as he slips his shirt over his head, his feet carrying him up the stairs to grab two items, coasting down the stairs and his elbow nudging the garden door open. He can see Amelie’s reflection in the pool, the cabana curtain wide open and her towel slung on the table to the side of the makeshift bed. He walks outside, loosening the ties around his shorts and unbuttoning the buttons on the yellow blouse clinging to his torso.

Harry steps through the open curtain of the cabana, his thumbs gently prying her thighs apart and coasting along her skin, the smirk playing at the corner of his lips telling her everything that he was thinking as she meets his stare. “You didn’t wait for me to get in the pool. Now, you’re all dry,” Harry murmurs against her knee, his mouth sponging wet kisses along her skin, his teeth nipping at her inner thigh. “Most of you is dry, I mean.” His fingertips swiftly dipping beneath the waistband of her suit and dragging it down her thighs, the knitted top strung somewhere behind her. “Oh, baby, you shaved,” he smirks, his fingers inching closer to where she wanted him the most. “Gon’a be soft fo’ me.”

“And you think I’m just going to let you go down on me,” Amelie mutters, taking his hands and setting them at his side, ignoring the fact that her calves are held together by a swimsuit.

“Oh, that makes sense, now,” Harry nods, pursing his lips together and gently moving her ankles to let the suit fall to the concrete by his feet, his knees settling between her legs that are held open by his hands.

“Oh, what?”

“You’re jealous,” Harry teases, his hand grabbing her wrist and kissing her hand, her knuckles, bringing her thumb to his lip and gently suckling on her skin. “Can’t be mad at me. ‘s jus’ work. ‘ve never gotten mad when you’ve done the nude shoots and sketches.”

“Harry, that’s bullshit, and you know it,” she says, her eyes rolling as she recalls the conversations that surrounded him being jealous of the nudist paintings she has done. “Explain ‘Cherry’ if you don’t get jealous.”

“Okay, maybe.” His eyes travel to the watermelon cut on the table near them, his eyes lighting up and his lips wrapping around a bite, the juice trickling down his chin. “Made you jealous and I haven’t tasted you all week. ‘m a horrible fiancé. ‘m gon’a make it up to you, baby,” Harry says, his sticky lips beginning to inch along her thighs, his hands holding her thighs away from his head, his fingertips surely bruising her skin with his touch. Harry knows that Amelie loves his grip, the feeling of his weight on her. “Could smell you at the beach, y’know. Know you wanted to fuck me, there, even though you wouldn’t.”

“’s because tu es à moi, and ‘s not m’thing to have anyone else knowing what we do,” she says, her eyes meeting his as he grins, nodding as his eyebrows wiggle suggestively, his hands reaching to the ground where he sets two cameras on the mattress beside her. “Tell me what you brought those for.”

“I am yours,” Harry says, turning on the camera and the polaroid and setting the film to be taken. His hands set the polaroid on her tummy, her chin tucked to her chest, her breathing slightly erratic as his lips return to their home on her knees, inchingly closer to where she’s wanted him for days. “Even though it’s me more than you, sometimes you get jealous, and now you’re going to have photos and videos to remind you like you made me.”

Amelie’s breathing is shaky as Harry’s arms sling her thighs over his shoulders, “Can’t have your hair in my hands if I’m taking pictures.”

“On the nose, Ames.” His lips are wet and sticky against her inner thighs, his mouth travelling along every inch of skin he can reach without ever touching her heat. “Can’t be a brat and expect to have my face between your legs and your hands in my hair. Kinda greedy, if you ask me.” His lips hover over her core, his hands splayed flat on her hips. “Good girls take their pictures. Maybe I’ll let you hold my hair, after. Oh, and don’t disturb the neighbours with your moans. Those are for me, only.”

Harry’s tongue licks along her slit, her thighs spread to him, his cheek nudged in the crook where her thigh meets her core, his fingertip dragging around the warmth of her entrance. His fingers thrust into her, her velvet walls squeezing around him, his middle and ring fingers reaching his knuckle as his fingertips sponge against her sweetest spot. His lips suckle around her clit, solely focused on the way her arousal douses his hands and his skin, the smell of her invading his senses. His mouth quirks into a smile as the flash of the camera sounds around their cabana, her heavy breaths and moans echoing into a pillow.

“Cheating,” Harry breathes, his fingers continuing to thrust into her warmth, her heels digging into his shoulders, “Can’t see you if you have a pillow in front of your face.”

“Harry, you’re asking me to give you the worst case of blue balls you’ve ever had in your life,” Amelie whimpers, knocking her head against the pillow beneath her neck when Harry swats her hand away from his sunglasses on his nose, his eyes tinted maroon beneath the cherry heart glasses. “Baby.”

“Can you take a picture while you orgasm? Think you can do that for me, baby.” Harry moans as a third finger slowly inches into her warmth, her thighs open and his hand holding her hips where her back arches. His tongue circles around her bundle of nerves, her clit sensitive and her thighs shaking beneath his touch as her orgasm begins to wash over her, her stomach tightening and her warm walls squeezing his fingers as he sponges over the spot that makes her writhe with moans. “Good girl, take the picture o’ me.” Amelie’s third picture falls to the mattress, her chest heaving with breaths as her thighs shake beneath Harry’s hands, his thumbs massaging the tattoos caressing her skin. His tongue gently traces over her core, humming delectably as her climax drips onto his face.

“Made m’knees hurt,” Harry says, taking the camera and set the timer on the makeshift table in the corner, his body lying on the mattress next to her. His hands wrap around her waist, coaxing her to straddle his hips, his thumb dragging along her inner thigh and lightly tracing over her slit as goosebumps prickle her skin. “Come sit on m’face.”

“Harry,” Amelie whines, moaning into his neck as her arousal wets his thighs. “Harry, you’re going to tease me, and ‘m sensitive. ‘m sorry fo’ being mean, you don’t have to tease me.”

“Missed your taste. Can’t ever go that long without it, again,” Harry breathes into her, a smirk plastered on his lips as her thighs straddling his shoulders, her warmth overwhelming him. “Grab m’hair, baby. Good girl.”

His mouth is wet and sticky on her core, her fingers tugging on his curls as his hands grip her waist. His tongue gently tastes her, slow and steady with her grinds and the movements of her hips, the sensitivity of her orgasm lingering in her nerves. His thumb rubs her clit achingly slow, his tongue rhythmically thrusting into her warmth and taking her to a new orgasm. Her thighs clench around his head and her fingers squeeze his curls, tugging at the root and whimpers a melody to his ears.

Harry is gentle as Amelie lays on the mattress next to him, wiping his mouth messily on the back of his hand, the light scruff on his chin glistening under the fading sun. He leans onto his side, his fingertips dragging along her naked chest and her bare hips. “Do you think you one more in there for me, mon ange? Only for me.” His lips touch her shoulder, slowly inching his way towards her neck and shifting his body, his knee set between her open thighs. “I love you.”

“Love fucking me,” Amelie says, shaking her head and hiding her face in her hands. Her lips are quirked into a smile, her orgasmic bliss beginning to feel overwhelmed by the thought of his shaft between her thighs. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

His fingertips shove his shorts down his thighs, kicking the material onto the concrete and his blouse following quickly behind. His lips slant against hers, a moan echoing on his tongue as his hand slowly inches her thigh around his waist. “I love you,” Harry stresses, his lips pressing a kiss hard into her cheek, his weight supported on his knee and his forearm, his hand pumping his cock between her thighs and thumbing her arousal and orgasm over his skin. “Love you so much that I want to spend m’whole life with you.” His cock slowly sinks into her warmth, squeezing around him and her teeth biting the skin of his shoulder lightly as his hips rock against hers, her nerves sensitive to the touch and her emotions on fire with his words. “Love your eyes and your heart and your smile.” His thrusts are hard and fast, the frame squeaking, her whimpers and quiet moans sounding so loudly in his ears. His lips are sloppily kissing hers and muttering, “Loving that I get to fuck you and make love to you whenever we want.”

Amelie’s fingers wrap around his arm, her nails inching into his skin, her thighs tight around his hips and drawing his thrusts heavy against her sensitive hips. Her thoughts are clouded in Harry and their love and the tinge of jealousy that made this, and her hand reaches for the polaroid camera forgotten beside her. “Fuck,” she moans, warmth squeezing him deeper, his cock bottoming to her hilt and grinding against her sweetest spot to bring her to her third orgasm. “Smile, baby.”

Harry smirks, his curls falling in front of his eyes as Amelie takes a photograph. Her jaw drops as he pulls all the way out, taking the camera from her and focusing on her face as he thrusts into her, her eyes squeezing shut as her orgasm overwhelms her and her core is clenching around him. His orgasm chases hers, milking all that he has inside her. Her hands reach for the pictures, her eyes going wide with how filthy the images actually are.

“Holy shit, angel,” Harry murmurs, his eyes travelling to where their orgasms are slowly leaking out of her. “Got so much that you’re dripping.”

“Hm, I wonder why.” Amelie reaches for her bathing suit top, tying the knots around her neck and her back. Her hand reaches for a slice of watermelon, her eyebrows furrowing together in confusion as Harry holds his hand to her.

“Have a few left in this roll of film,” he says, yanking his shorts onto his hips and stepping outside the cabana, peering through the lens for the perfect angle. “Le’ me take a picture of you, angel.”

Amelie shakes her head, knowing that Harry means that the picture will be her without her bathing suit bottoms. “Harry, we have neighbours and that’s filthy.”

“Got fucked three times out here with the cabana curtains open,” Harry laughs, holding his arms out and nodding towards the uncut hedges, the sun nearly set and their privacy more acknowledged than ever by silence, “and the hedges are taller than me. Find another reason.”

“Can’t make this your background,” she says warningly, holding the watermelon unsurely and standing in front of him. “It’s dirty.”

“Can’t promise you that one,” Harry says, adjusting her pose and the watermelon and the depth, making sure that every part of his idea would be coming to life.

“Baby.”

Harry takes the picture and grins, holding the polaroid to his chest with a blushing smirk. “Don’t worry, angel. I want this one all for me.”

[delimeful]

the shapes in the silence (8)

warnings: deceit (morally ambiguous), lying, arguing, negative thinking(lots)

Chapter 8

Apparently, ‘longest nap of his life’ meant three hours, because that was all he got before Patton came knocking gently on his door, snapping him out of a hazy nightmare in a cold sweat.

“Hey, kiddo!” He greeted, eyes suspiciously bright. Ugh, morning people. “We’re having a house meeting!” 

“A what?” Virgil responded automatically. He, of course, knew what a house meeting was, but- “You’ve never invited me to one of these before.” 

Patton had the grace to look sheepish. “Well, we don’t have them very often, and you didn’t… really want to talk to us last time we had one!” 

Oh yeah. He’d been absolutely certain it had only been an excuse for them to all complain about him suddenly ‘moving in’, so to speak. It’d taken actually eavesdropping before he realized it was actually an argument over who kept stealing Logan’s jam. He was fairly sure Roman had only passed up on accusing the new ‘unfriendly neighborhood Dark Side’ because he was the actual culprit. 

“...Sure, okay.”

He followed Patton downstairs, and found the others sitting already in their customary spots on the couch. Out of habit, he stepped towards the spot he normally sat as ‘Puff’, before remembering himself at a slight look of surprise from (still normal-sized) Roman. He propped himself up against the wall closest to Logan’s chair, not in the mood to loom menacingly by anyone who might be perturbed by it.  

As expected, Logan ignored him completely. “Good. Now that we are all here, I believe we should address the situation regarding Roman’s recent shrinking episode.” 

“Did you figure something out, Microsoft Nerd?” Roman asked, leaning forwards slightly. Virgil wondered how the nicknames had such little bite when they were directed at anyone but him.

Logan glanced at Virgil, but upon seeing no question about the situation in his expression, simply continued. “Currently, my hypothesis is that this size reduction happens to us due to the fact that we are incorporeal manifestations of a personality. For example, things like feeling overwhelmed or vulnerable might cause us to involuntarily shapeshift as a mechanism to protect Thomas or ourselves.” 

He flipped a few pages in his notebook. “I believe that is why access to our normal functions is limited whilst in the reduced form, as well, which is highly inconvenient.”

That would really stress Virgil out if he hadn’t already mastered the art of driving himself into the exact mental state needed to trigger his transformation either way. 

“As such,” Logan continued, “we need more information in order to find a solution. I believe Roman can help me test this hypothesis by focusing on aforementioned overwhelming thoughts to see if he can activate this reaction at will.” 

“What? Why me?” Roman protested immediately. “Why don’t you do it, Specs?” 

Logan gave him a condescending look. “Because I have no feelings, obviously. You are the only one we know of showing this symptom, anyhow. Our control group, so to speak.” 

Roman groaned, and for a moment, his gaze flicked to where Virgil was standing, wishing he was in bed as they talked about stuff he already knew. He straightened up a bit, narrowing his eyes back at Roman. What?

The creative side pulled his eyes away without giving him any sort of answer, but Logan hadn’t missed the byplay either. He stared between the two of them for a moment. Patton blinked at all of them mutually, lost in the silent stare off. Slowly, Logan leaned back. 

“If you’d prefer to do this at a later time-” He started, but Roman cut him off. 

“No, it’s fine.” He stared at Virgil like he was trying to convey something meaningful with the words. Virgil stared back, catching exactly none of it.

A moment and a flash later, Roman was sitting on the couch, doll-sized. Patton made the ‘oh no, cute!’ face again, and Virgil couldn’t help but stare. He was so… small. He couldn’t believe Roman had let him pick him up at all, so much could have gone wrong- 

“Oh, it worked!” Roman said, surprised. Logan hummed consideringly, already deep in thoughts he didn’t bother to share with the rest of them. 

“Can you turn back?” Virgil asked, voice sardonic. Roman scowled imperiously at him, but very noticeably did not get any bigger. 

“That part… appears to be more complicated.”

“Maybe try thinking about the opposite of what got you that size!” Patton offered, Logan nodding in agreement. 

Roman didn’t seem as easily convinced, but he did close his eyes and make an expression of thinking very hard for a few moments. Virgil took the opportunity to go make himself a bagel. It went perfectly up until the toasted bagel popped up loudly, and Roman groaned, presumably at his concentration being broken. 

“Anxiety.”

“What?” He responded through a mouthful of crunchy bread. “I’m hungry, I don’t have to watch you focus. You always figure it out eventually.” 

It was definitely meant to be delivered dismissively, but a second later there was a loud clatter from the lounge. Virgil poked his head around the corner. Roman was full-sized again, and had knocked a cup off the table in the process. He squinted at the startled creative side for a second. This was the second time in a row that had happened after he’d spoken.

Was Roman fucking with him? 

… No, Princey was too clueless for that. It was probably just coincidence.

Logan had taken it all in stride, turning to Patton and asking him to replicate Roman’s feat. Virgil took the opportunity to steal some of Logan’s Crofters and smear it over the other half of his bagel. Petty crimes. 

Once he re-emerged, Patton was still the same size, midway through an apology for not being able to manage it. 

“It’s quite alright, I have plenty of new information to look through. Oh, and Anxiety?” Logan called out, making him freeze where he was three steps up the stairs already. Could he seriously smell jam like a hunting dog? 

“Have you experienced anything like this before?” Logan asked, and everyone’s gaze turned to him.

Great, it wasn’t about the jam. It was so much worse. There was no getting out of it this time.

“No.” He answered bluntly, and ignored the way the lie tasted sour in his mouth. “I haven’t.” 

He looked away before he could see the mistrust form in their eyes, and retreated to his room. He hated lying to them, partially because it felt awful, wondering how and when they’d find out his untruths, but also because the more Virgil lied, the better of a grasp he got on the situation.

As such, it was almost unsurprising when he opened his door and found Deceit, standing in the middle of his room and eyeing his messy floor with distaste. He still felt his heart jump, though, looking over his shoulder as though the others would have trailed after him to witness the impromptu meeting. He slammed his door shut after him, already scowling darkly.

“What are you doing in my room.” He asked, flatly. Deceit gave him a deeply patronizing look. 

“Oh, because I can totally just stand around in the plain sight waiting for you to get back from your little get-together. That definitely wouldn’t get me harassed by those naive idiots.” 

Virgil gritted his teeth at the insult, voice coming out sharp. “I’m the one being harassed. I told you to leave me alone. Get. Out.”

Deceit raised an eyebrow. “Like you weren’t practically calling my name with all the lying you’ve been doing. Obviously, you know that even just hiding the truth counts as a lie. You’re clearly doing much better than a liar like me.” 

“Shut up.” Virgil snarled, the shadows in his room curling around his feet. He clenched his fists, ignoring the feel of nails biting into his palms. “You’re just sour that Thomas still hasn’t noticed you, even after I split off and proved that Dark Sides can appear to him.” 

“Oh, you’re so right. It’s not like I want to keep helping him without needing all that attention or anything.” Deceit smiled smugly, as Virgil worked his jaw. “You can’t play the villain forever, Thomas won’t still hate you and get hurt because of it. I’m much worse off, helping keep him safe by keeping him in the dark.”

“I don’t care if he hates me.” Virgil returned, ignoring the way Deceit’s lips thinned knowingly. “Thomas needs his friends, needs people, and if he goes down the road you want him to take, he’ll be alone and hated his whole life, and he won’t even know why.” 

“Virgil, you’re the farthest thing from a hypocrite I’ve ever met.” Deceit offered, saccharine-sweet. “After all, you certainly wouldn’t know anything about being alone and hated, now would you?”   

“Yeah, it’s my job.” He spat, furious. “I’m supposed to keep Thomas from feeling the way I feel preemptively, genius.” 

He took a deep breath, trying to prevent his voice from slipping. “I knew what I was getting into when I revealed myself. Maybe you should focus more on your own role instead of nosing into my business.”

Deceit’s eyes narrowed slightly with irritation. “Yes, I’m definitely the one slinking about where I don’t belong. You’d never take advantage of someone’s trust under false pretenses, after all.”  

Virgil bit into his tongue hard enough to make it bleed. Deceit smirked, as though he’d never been irritated at all. After a moment, the look smoothed over into something more contemplative.

“You are so obsessed with Thomas upholding society’s standards, so afraid of him becoming a bad person. But you don’t have anything to worry about. After all, you’re a reflection of him, and you’re so very selfless, aren’t you?”  

Virgil recoiled as though struck, but there was no victory in the other side’s expression. 

“You made the right choice. The others will accept you when you’re exposed. You won’t regret it.”

With that final condemnation, he sunk away, and Virgil was left alone with the silence ringing in his ears. He hated fighting with Deceit, hated that the man wasn’t above tearing at sensitive spots to get his own point across, hated the raw, cut-open feeling that came with it. 

Most of all, he hated that Deceit was right. 

He was just using the others, lying to them to assuage his own pathetic loneliness. He’d made his choice, he’d known he’d be surrounded by people who didn’t want him there. He’d known, he’d known, and it still never got easier.

The transformation was at the edge of his senses, only a grasp from shifting him, and for a moment he entertained the thought of letting it happen. Running back to them, curling up in the presence of Thomas’ best attributes until Deceit’s words were barely even whispers in the back of his mind… 

Something clicked in the subconscious, and he let the errant dream go, sinking onto his bed. Thomas was making another video, and though it didn’t seem like he was going to be summoned this time, he still had work to do. He pulled up a screen of the scene through Thomas’s eyes, attention catching on every possible minor flaw, predicting the audience’s every possible reaction, determined to make the editing process hell so that only the best of Thomas was shown. 

That was his job, after all.

[roseamongroses]

W.A.L: “Eden and Goliath” (8)

Summary:It wasn’t a matter of whether or not they were worthy.It was a matter of who wanted it more. And now they were firmly on the wrong side of history. A history of unfathomable powers and all-knowing immortals, ancient forests and beasts, and a Stranger who wanted to challenge it all.

Vibes/ Tags:time is irrelevent, homophobia who?, magic and beasts, demigods

Warnings: Imprisonment, Mentions of execution, Blood/ injuries,  Mentions of past Death, repression, cursing,

Characters: Deceit(Eden) Sanders, Remy Sanders, Logan Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Patton Sanders, Roman Sanders, Emile Picani

Ship: Roceit

1) (2)   (3)  (4) (5)

(6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11)

---

Roman pressed his face into Eden’s back, greedy, sleep vaguely escaping him. 

There was talking in the next room.  

He sniffed, annoyed as the voices got louder, most likely an argument, before they stopped all at once. All of which sucked because he didn’t even get a chance to eavesdrop, but Roman couldn’t find it in him to care. Too warm, too tired, not his problem. 

When he resurfaced he grasped the blankets beside him, feeling them empty. 

“Ede...” He blinked, dread washing over him. His eyes snapping wide as he only saw Dot, she stood watching him, her mouth thin, like something made her sick. 

 “Where is he?” Roman demanded, the ground waking with a jolt. 

Dot’s expression got steely as the earth shook,  “Don’t.” She said simply, “Not unless you want this whole mountain falling on your head. Eden’s fine, He’s just starting his training…” she explained, “You however...are with me. Apparently you don’t like the Stranger that much, huh?”

“He’s a council member, of course I don’t like him,” Roman grumbled, wrapping himself in the shawl, “And I certainly don’t like him being alone with Eden.” 

“Understandable...but, the Stranger’s...different, though,” Dot said, “He cares. I’m not sure what he cares about, but he cares.” she waved, her face blossoming  all at once. Her smile was a bit too wide, but not entirely plastic,  “Anyway I’m here to help you.”

“With what?”

“Don’t play coy, Sanders,” She said, serious, “A little birdie told me everything you touch turns to ash. You’re overworking yourself.  If you continue using your magic like that, you’ll end up killing yourself before the curse does.” 

Roman closed his eyes, “I know.”  

He’d long since accepted it.

---

At first glance, the pitt was empty.

 It wasn’t a deep pitt, it’s walls were climbable, not particularly jagged, and it was clearly empty. This assumption can also be applied to the Stranger’s head, seeing as he presented said empty pitt with a flourish, as if it was a death sentence.  

The rules were relatively simple. 

 No attempting to kill it. (What “it” was Eden had no clue.)

 No attempting to escape the pitt before time is up. (Eden was given five hours.)

No more baseless assumptions. (Sure.) 

The Stranger  promised that they would work on conditioning, but now the Stranger needed test drive Eden’s magic to see what type they will be working on. The Stranger apparently had an idea of the type, but he didn’t seem inclined to share. 

So Eden was dropped in an empty pitt, tired, cold, and vaguely pissed off. 

---

Thirty minutes have passed and Eden can confirm that pitt was not in fact empty. It was incredibly not empty and whatever was fucking in it was relentless. 

Every time Eden’s dress had caught the light, the creature was on him, it's hot breath tearing after Eden in a soundless rage. Every time Eden shuddered, the tell-tell crunching of gravell followed. Fun times. 

As if to further emphasis this point, the creature slammed into Eden’s back. Scales rippled down his spine as he stumbled and ate stone. 

Blood filled his mouth, heady. He scrambled up, the haunting sizzle of the creatures acid filled his nose. He assessed the situation. He assessed he was going to fucking die-- 

He inhaled sharply, wiping his mouth. 

Those thoughts won’t help anyone. 

He clearly wasn’t meant to take the hits the entire time. While his scales were okay in regards to protecting his actual skin, after the fifth or so time being slammed into the ground Eden doubts that’s their main use.

 His eyes darted, watching the gravel crunch  as the monster started slinking towards him again. Great, so he just had to figure out their primary use and hope it’s enough to stop this madness. Fantastic. 

This is fine. He needed to think. It isn’t combative, but defensive. The Stranger obviously thinks it would be useful in this situation where the creature mainly uses sight to track prey. 

So Eden didn’t need to worry about covering up his smell or being quiet, he needed to….

Disappear. 

---

 “I hate it,” Roman glared holes into the dirt in front of him, pushing it away.

Dot made a confused-esq chittering sound, peering over his shoulder, “Darling, this is the easiest possible thing you learn,” she said, waving her hand over the dirt--- drooping blooms sprouting and shriveling  all within a moment, “You should’ve learned this as a kid.”

“I wasn’t exactly the smartest.” Roman crossed his arms. He always ended up killing them or taking so long that the instructor or Remus did it for him out of pity. 

Dot looked at him considering, “This doesn’t mean you’re not smart.” she said without hesitation, “You  have a strong amount of persuasion over the earth. Too much, in-fact.” she said, pushing the dirt pile in front of him again, “You need practice.”

“We’ll be here forever,” Roman groaned. 

Dot was unbothered, tapping the pile again, “I still have to make your medicines, so we have time.” she said, her doe eyes making him feel exposed, but willing. 

So Roman tried again.

 And again, and again, and again. 

---

 Eden was cornered. 

 His scales covered every inch of himself, but he couldn’t manage to let himself disappear. No, he knew he could. In fact he was painfully aware of how easily he could make himself disappear. The memory was so strong, it was intrinsic. As if he could feel his mom guiding his hands, telling him how to slip away, how to hold his tongue, how to not get--

It wasn’t anything he’s done before, physically. 

But he knew he could do it. 

He really didn’t want to, it felt like he was crossing a line, accepting--

It was absurd. He could die or worse, the Stranger would drop training all together. Drop him back in that little village. But Eden felt like he was already there. He could feel their stares on him, wanting him to just die already. Swinging their lanterns, screaming their curses, their accusations. His “family” in line to watch the bloodbath, not a prayer on their lips. 

All he could think of was his first memory of his mother begging his “family” to take her in, to treat her like nothing.  As if their scraps were salvation. 

Eden spat the blood from his mouth. 

He spat on the memories, he spat on their scraps. 

He wanted more. 

He needed to focus, the creature was looming over him, saliva stinging his face. The Stranger nowhere in sight. He needed to not fucking die and he certainly didn’t want the Stranger’s pity.  He needed to Disappear, disappear, disappear, dissap--

He looked up, the shadow of the beast retreating to it’s cave. 

Eden looked at himself and saw nothing. 

---

“You seem to be overthinking the technical parts and while they’re necessary, they’re not everything. Your connection with the Goddess is everything and that isn’t a diagram you can replicate,  ”  Dot’s advice echoed, “Try and focus on a memory or an emotion. Anything to make it personal.” 

“I am focusing on a memory,” Roman grumbled, dirt crumpling into ash again. 

“A positive memory, dear.” Dot scolded, “If not that try a positive emotion. You’re sensitive, so the bond is sensitive. It won’t make any sense to be callous---gentle, darling, gentle…” 

-

Roman was coaxing a thin stem to grow, when he heard footsteps and the sharp grumbling of “Put me down-- I can walk myself you--.” in the home. 

He spun around, “Eden!” he beamed, as he ran to meet him. 

Eden resembled every definition of agitated and from the looks of it, he had every right to. His dress was melted at the edges, gouges littering his skin where his scales didn’t, and half of  his hair was hanging in damaged threads as if it had been hastily cut or, rather, burned to ear length. 

“How did it go..?’ Roman asked, not quite sure what to fret over first. 

Eden was on the verge of snarling at this point, “What do you think you--” his sharp face, softened. Eyes lost somewhere past Roman. 

Roman glanced over his shoulder.

Oh.

There was Dot of course, her smug face sliding right into horrified once she got a good look at Eden. And the room… the room was alive in every sense of the word. Petals drifting from the ceiling in a cascade of colors and the struggling plant from earlier was bursting from it’s pot,  petals a wide, ivory dripping with gold.

“Beautiful…” Eden was breathless.

 Some petals drifting into Eden’s hair among the charred pieces and he plucked them up with a smile. It was a small smile. A smile someone gives when they have nothing else to give. A smile someone gives between whispers, or slides into the palm of your hand when no one else was looking. 

It was barely there, but for Roman it meant the world. 

[diego-hargreeve2]

light in the dark

Part Nine

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy (Netflix)

Ship: Diego Hargreeves x Original Character

Warnings: Language, abuse (emotional and physical), mental illness, violence and, in later chapters, smut.

She gasped softly, her hands moving by instinct to his waist, fingers fisting into the fabric of his jacket as she tilted her head back. His mouth moved against her own and she mimicked it, until his teeth grazed her lower lip and she whimpered softly. He broke away, opening his eyes and watching as her lashes fluttered against her cheeks before opening to stare at him. He searched her face, checking for her consent, before drawing her back in and kissing her again, his tongue sliding past her parted lips to touch her own.

His first kiss had been soft and gentle, but he pulled her in closer this time and his hand fell from her face, tracing down her body to settle on the curve of her waist as he deepened the kiss. She was warm and willing, pliable against him, and as then, as his tongue skated across her lip, she whimpered again - and the noise inflamed him. His grip on her waist tightened, the other hand burrowing into her hair and grabbing a fistful of the soft waves, holding her head back as he kissed her hard.

This was all new for Evie. Watching other girls marry their Prophet when she was a teenager had left the bitter bile of disgust in her mouth. She’d been untouchable then, and safe because of it, but after she left the idea of letting a man that close had left her nervous still and adverse to anyone touching her. Diego was different, and she felt none of the old sense of fear she used to get when men tried to flirt, or she saw couples - she couldn’t even think about how inexperienced and bad at this she must seem. It was impossible to gather a coherent thought and she let him kiss her, trying her best to replicate the movement of his mouth, but mostly focused on being as close to him as she could. 

Her hands loosened their grip on his jacket and crept beneath, sliding along the flat plane of his back up to his shoulders - and he let go of her to yank his coat off, the heat of her body, his desire and this room making the jacket not just unnecessary but outright uncomfortable. Struggling out of it he let it drop to the ground, both hands moving to her hips and gripping her there for a moment before one slid higher, over the dip of her waist and her ribs, to find her breast. His fingers cupped it, thumb brushing over her nipple - and at that he felt her stiffen. 

Breaking the kiss, he saw this time nerves in her face, and lowered his hand immediately back to her waist. 

“Too fast?” He said, his tone apologetic. 

“I’m sorry - I’ve never-”

“Hey” he stopped her there, lifting both hands to cup her face, knowing she’d drop her gaze even before she did it because she always ended up staring at her feet when she started apologising. “Evie - it’s okay. Look at me - I’m not gonna make you do anything you don’t want to do”. 

She could see the truth in his eyes, and one hand lifted to cover his own on her cheek, her expression aglow with gratitude. He leaned forward, kissing her forehead gently, and the tip of her nose, before returning to her mouth to brush his lips softly against hers. 

“Didn’t mean to scare you” he murmured, and she blushed, twisting her fingers around his.

“You don’t scare me. This is just...new”.

Part of him wanted to ask how new, but he was wary now of upsetting her on this evening when she’d already been shaken so much. The desire he’d felt when kissing her had faded somewhat, not gone, just overwhelmed by his concern. 

“You decide what happens tonight Evie. I won’t do anything you don’t want”. It wasn’t a power game he was intending (though God knows he had plenty of experience in that realm) it was about giving her the space and time she needed, and he dropped his hands to emphasise that, awaiting her next move. 

For a moment she hovered uncertain before grabbing the shirt he’d offered her and pulling it over her head, hiding the scars once more. Covered up, she hesitated for a moment, before stepping closer to him. Her hands slid up his chest, palms flat against the shirt he wore, before creeping to his neck. One stayed there, the other moved higher, fingers tracing the length of his scar before moving to cup the back of his head and pulling him close so she could kiss him. 

It had none of the certainty of his kisses, her movements hesitant, her mouth gentle against his own. She sucked his lower lip into her mouth, trying to copy what he’d done that made her knees weak, and her teeth grazed his lip - and she heard the faint moan from him at that. 

It was maddening, like being teased, to have her explore like this and hold himself back. His hands moved to rest on her waist, fingers holding the fabric more than her, but he didn’t let himself do more, allowing her to take the lead. After a couple of minutes though she broke away, dropping back from her tiptoes that she had to balance on to close the inches between his height and hers.

“Can... we sit?” She asked, her voice breathy and breathless at the same time. He nodded at once, dropping to perch on the edge of his bed, resisting the urge to pull her onto his lap. Eve sat beside him, prising her shoes off with the toes of the other foot before curling up, knees resting against his thigh. The break in the kiss had stolen her confidence, and her fingers nervously rested on her own lap even as they itched to reach for him. 

For a moment he watched her, then leaned down and took his own shoes off too before half turning on the bed to face her, one foot on the ground, the other resting on his opposite knee. He reached out and took her hands – but dropped them instantly, her fingers so hot they felt like a burn.

“Careful kid” he murmured gently, and her cheeks flushed as she curled her hands into fists and closed her eyes, focusing on cooling them down. After a moment she relaxed, fingers splaying out though her eyes remained closed. He reached out and grasped her fingers, still hot but not painfully so now, and sliding his grip up to hold her wrists he leaned forward and kissed her neck. She tilted her head, allowing it, as he kissed a path up to her ear and whispered to her, “What do you want?”

“I don’t know...I just...I want you” she murmured, confused by her own feelings but she could feel the way he smirked against her skin. 

Diego couldn’t have denied that it felt good to hear, although he was very aware that Evie didn’t have experience and he trod carefully even after her statement. He brushed his thumb across her inner wrists, feeling her rapid pulse fluttering beneath his touch as he kissed her neck softly. 

Before either one of them could work out the next step there was a thud on the door, and Eve jumped, the wide-eyed stricken look back on her face immediately.

“Hargreeves! You better not be trying to get out of cleaning up!” Al yelled through the door, and Diego let out a different kind of groan. Releasing his grip of Eve, brushing a soft kiss against her cheek, he stood and walked across to the door. His attitude was none too friendly as he yanked it opened, positioning himself in the gap so Evie was hidden.

“I can’t clean the gym with people out there” he pointed out, and the insult didn’t need to be spoken at the end of the sentence, its presence so clear from the irritated tone of voice.

“Yeah, well, just don’t forget. Figured you were slinking off to get out of it” Al snorted, turning to shuffle away. Diego swung the door shut with a thud that was slightly satisfying - but not enough to balance out the annoyance.  Walking back to the bed he sat beside Eve, one hand lifting to brush her cheek and tuck a loose lock of hair behind her ear.

“You want to go back out there? He’ll only keep bugging me if he thinks I’m hiding”. Diego hadn’t even finishing posing the question and she shook her head. For a moment he considered, weighing options before she offered one herself.

“Could I... just wait here? And you go out and ...I’ll see you after?” She wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to ask, in terms of good manners, but it felt like the best option to her. Diego could celebrate and not get into trouble, whilst she stayed safe.

He considered for a moment. Whilst it sounded odd it made sense to him - and in Diego’s mind, it had the added bonus of giving her some space. Some time to think. Where she wasn’t feeling pressured, and he could be sure he wasn’t taking advantage. 

“I can do that. And be back after I’m done, and Al will leave me be - if that’s what you want” he checked. His walking away, the whole interruption, had thrown her slightly but she nodded.

“I’ll wait for you” she said, offering a faint smile. He stood up, his fingers trailing along her arm and then nodded as well.

He left her perched on the bed. When he returned she’d lay down, and fallen asleep. Her jeans discarded she wore his T-shirt, which covered to the tops of her thighs, her legs bare. One hand under her cheek she lay on her side, lashes still against her cheek. The smile came unbidden. Stripping down to his boxers he slid in the bed behind her, slotting himself against her body. The movement woke her, but she relaxed on seeing it was him, and he threw an arm across her waist. 

Not how he figured the night would end, he reflected as he closed his eyes, but Diego wasn’t complaining. 

@lovinglydiego @me125 @klausbutgayer @reblogserpent @fatbottomedcurls @mrsdiegohargreeves @carryon-doctor-lock

[my-one-love-is-music]

Free Me From This Prison Called My Head

Summary: It's been a year since Tim fell into a coma. He was small swamped by the hospital sheets in the Cave, but they knew there had to be some way to wake him up. It had been a year. And they were finally going to get him out.

A/N: This is my last fic that I wrote during Nanowrimo back in November and I'm so excited to share it with everyone! I've had this idea for a long time and have been wanting to write it for so long so please enjoy because this was another great piece to put together!

Also on AO3!

Jason stared at Tim’s limp body in the bed they’d set up in the Cave. He was hooked up to several machines that tracked his breathing and heartrate and even his brain patterns to make sure everything was operating as it should. He looked smaller than Jason remembered but he knew Tim had been deteriorating for a while.

That usually happened when the only thing a person was living off of were the liquid nutrients pumped into your veins.

Jason remembered the night when he’d first heard what happened to Tim. He was off on some mission with one of the many crazy scientists that always seemed to pop up. He’d been hit with a dart that injected something into his blood stream, causing him to fall unconscious.

They’d tried to isolate the component that was there, but it took a month to locate it and three more before they even had an initial test dose mixed. Their hope hadn’t lasted long when the injected dose caused Tim to have a seizure.

Jason was glad he hadn’t been present when that happened, but the hollow looks in both Dick’s and Bruce’s eyes had said more than enough, and when he watched the Cave’s footage later he had to slink off to a corner for a few hours to process what he’d seen.

After that instance they weren’t willing to try and make any more antidotes and started to research other cures.

Another two months passed before they decided to look at Tim’s brainwaves and the patterns that appeared. Even then it was only an accident they realized Tim’s brain activity constantly replicated that of someone in deep REM sleep.

It wasn’t common for coma patients to show signs of a deep sleep cycle which lead them to their next point of possible contact with Tim. If they could find some way to get into his head and communicate, they could find out what attacked him, or pull him out of what was holding him under.

And now they’d finally managed to develop a technology that could let them connect with Tim during his dreams. They could only hope that it would work, and they would be able to communicate with Tim in the middle of whatever dream he was living and had been living for the past year.

“We’re ready to go,” Bruce said, pulling Jason from his ruminating thoughts over Tim. “Are you ready, Dick?”

“More than ready,” Dick said where he was spread out on the table next to Tim. He was already connected to his own heart monitor and had a band around his head. “I’m ready to bring him back.”

Bruce nodded. “Close your eyes and even out your breathing.”

Dick sucked in a deep breath and held it before letting it out through his mouth. The twin beats on the heart monitors were loud in the silence between them.

“I’m booting up the machine now. You should be pulled under within the next ten or fifteen seconds.”

Bruce’s eyes stayed fixed on the screen which remained black as Dick’s breathing continued to even out. The image was dim and fuzzy at first and Jason squinted as he watched the screen come to life.

The view on the screen moved around quickly, much how a person would look at the streets around them.

“Is there anything we can do so we don’t have to watch through Dick’s eyes?” Jason asked. “This is making me nauseous and isn’t the best way to get an idea of his surroundings.”

Bruce hummed under his breath and tapped out several things on his computer. Jason blinked when the view on the screen shifted and they were watching Dick look at the buildings around him.

“I gotta admit, I wasn’t actually expecting that to work,” Jason muttered.

“I’m beyond understanding how most of this is operating at this point,” Bruce admitted. “There are a lot of factors here that I never expected to come into contact with in my life.”

“Fair enough,” Jason agreed.

Dick moved down the sidewalk, eyes fixated on the buildings around him as he took in what Jason was quickly realizing was Gotham. It was…lighter than Jason ever imagined Gotham could be. The streets looked clean and people looked happy and not as though they were distrustful of everyone around them or ready to bolt at the first sign of danger.

“You know what we didn’t consider when we came up with this idea?” Jason asked. “The fact that we can’t talk to whoever’s under and we have to sit on the sidelines.”

“It would’ve taken longer to try and advance the tech we’re using enough to get to that point. If you’d like to keep researching while I map Dick’s progress, be my guest,” Bruce said.

Jason said nothing and watched as Dick jogged across the street and turned towards the largest skyscrapers the city housed. He made a beeline for Drake Industries after catching sight of the sign and the people walking in and out of the doors.

Dick pushed inside, ignoring the people who gave him curious looks at needing to be in the building when he wasn’t wearing a suit. He strode to the front desk and flashed his best smile.

“Hi, excuse me,” he said.

The woman working the front desk looked up and smiled politely. “What can I do for you?” she asked.

“I have a meeting scheduled with Tim Drake,” he asked.

She frowned and raised an eyebrow, giving Dick a onceover. “He’s currently in a meeting. What’s your name so that I can let you know you’re here?” she asked, voice filled with false politeness.

“Dick Grayson,” he answered easily.

She pursed her lips and looked over him again. “You certainly don’t appear to have the appearance of Mr. Grayson.”

Dick frowned. “I’m sorry, but what’s that supposed to mean?”

She waved her hand. “Nothing, nothing. I will pass on the notice of your visit to Mr. Drake and he can set up an appointment with you when he’s next available.”

Dick smiled. “Thank you so much. I appreciate the help.”

He turned on his heel and rolled his eyes before he strode over to the door, eyes scanning the room around him. He pushed through the doors and turned to the right, walking in front of the large windows so the secretary would see his departure and assume he was leaving.

Once he was out of sight, he made a beeline for the nearest crosswalk and jogged across the street to the other side. He shoved his hands in his pockets and strode back in the direction of Drake Industries, slipping into the alley across the street so he could watch the front doors without garnering suspicion.

He nestled into the shadows and kept watch as the sun slowly moved across the sky.

Jason accepted the tea and sandwiches Alfred brought around while they watched Dick wait in the alley. He didn’t budge from his spot and Jason wondered if he could feel hunger in the dream world. Or if he’d bother to eat if he did.

Bruce and Jason froze when they saw Tim push out of the double doors and turn towards the parking garage next door. He had a messenger back over his shoulder and was smiling, posture relaxed as he walked. The bags he usually had under his eyes were completely gone and he looked like he’d never missed a night’s sleep in his life.

Dick wasted no time when he appeared. He wove through the cars that were inching forward down the street and caught up to Tim in an instant.

“Tim!” he said, gripping his shoulder.

Tim gasped and whirled around, pulling out of his grasp. “Wha-what?” he asked. He stopped and squinted at Dick. “Who are you? You’re not looking for money, are you?”

Dick frowned. “No, Tim it’s me. It’s Dick.”

Tim took a step backward, eyeing him warily. “I don’t know anyone named Dick.”

Jason frowned and saw the expression mirrored on Dick’s own face.

“Dick Grayson,” he said slowly. “We’ve known each other for years.”

Tim’s earlier wariness disappeared, replaced with concerned. “I barely know Dick Grayson. The only time I’ve interacted with him has been at charity galas since he’s not involved with the work between Wayne Enterprises and Drake Industries. Look, is there someone I can call for you? Are you lost? Whoever you’re looking for, I’m pretty sure it’s not me.”

Dick plastered on a polite smile and took a step back, shaking his head. “No, I’m sorry. I guess the mistake was mine. Nothing you need to worry about.”

Tim nodded but still looked concerned. He backed up a step and hesitated but still managed to turn on his heel and walk off. Dick didn’t linger and turned in the opposite direction and hurried away, head ducked to everyone around him.

“What the hell just happened?” Jason asked.

Bruce shook his head. “Let’s find out.” He tapped on his keyboard and the picture slowly faded. Jason heard Dick’s breathing change and in a couple minutes he was blinking his eyes open and sitting up.

“What happened?” Bruce asked, turning to face him.

Dick sighed and pulled off the headband when he sat up. “I don’t know. He didn’t recognize me at all. I don’t know what’s going on but if we can’t get him to recognize us in there, I don’t think there’s any way to pull him out of the world he’s trapped in. Maybe you’d be more persuasive?” he asked, looking at Bruce with hopeful eyes.

Bruce hummed. “I guess that should be our next avenue. You remember how to operate this?” he asked with a wave to the console.

Dick nodded and passed the headband to Bruce. He pulled the wires connecting him to the heart monitor off and stuck them on Bruce, only a moment passing when the machine beeped in protest.

Bruce laid back on the bed and Dick started typing in commands on the computer. Bruce evened his breathing without being prompted and he fell asleep within seconds.

The screen faded into existence like it had the first time and Jason watched as Bruce appeared in the same place Dick had. The light was dim now that night was falling and Bruce quickly navigated the streets, aiming for the library.

Jason was confused as to what he was doing until he sat down at a computer and started researching things about Tim, zeroing in on his apartment complex. He copied down the address and wiped his search history before leaving the library and making his way through the streets towards the apartments.

None of the other people on the street gave Bruce their attention.

Jason squinted at the screen. “Hey,” he said, pointing at the people he passed. “Don’t these people look kind of out of it?”

Dick looked where he was pointing. “I guess? They’re not exactly real so I don’t think they’d behave the same way.”

“No, I know,” Jason said. “But earlier when you were around them, they had more personality, like they knew they were being watched.”

“Do you think it has anything to do with the time of the dream?” Dick asked. “Maybe because it’s night they have less of a reason to be in character I guess?”

“Maybe. I think we should keep an eye on them going forward though,” Jason muttered.

“This whole situation is weird,” Dick admitted. “Technology forcing someone into a dream coma wasn’t something I ever even could’ve imagined happening to us, but here we are.”

Jason sighed and nodded.

Bruce turned the corner on the screen and slowed to a stop in front of a resplendent apartment building. He looked up and over the windows, neck arching back when he tried to see to the very top. He turned towards the door and walked inside.

He smiled and nodded at the receptionist in the lobby and continued past towards the elevators. She smiled back and she didn’t even look suspicious at Bruce’s appearance.

Bruce stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the top floor. He crossed his arms and waited as the elevator steadily climbed before slowing and letting the doors slide open.

Bruce stepped out and strode down the center of the hallway, making for the door at the very end of the hallway set into the opposite wall. He knocked when he approached and waited.

Dick’s shoulders tensed as he waited and Jason leaned forward, waiting to see what would happen.

The door opened and Tim furrowed his brow. He looked up and down at Bruce and for a split-second Jason thought this might work.

“Bruce Wayne?” Tim asked, flabbergasted. “What are you doing here? Why would you need to come here?”

“I needed to inquire about something with you,” he answered smoothly.

Tim stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “And what would that be?”

Bruce clasped his hands behind his back and gave Tim a onceover. “I believe you met my adopted son earlier today. Dick Grayson?”

Tim hesitated. “I ran into someone claiming to be him, but he didn’t act how he usually does…” he started, tone careful as he tried to judge Bruce’s reaction.

Bruce nodded. “That was indeed my son. I’m sorry if he seemed fairly off-putting to you. He can be a bit intense at times.”

“I resent that,” Dick muttered under his breath next to Jason.

Jason rolled his eyes and continued to watch.

Tim nodded. “So, what did you want to discuss about him?”

“I just wanted to make sure that nothing unfortunate came from your interaction with him.”

Tim straightened. “If you’re worried that my opinion of him is going to affect our business deals, I can assure you that I’m not so unprofessional as to allow that to happen.”

“But you really don’t recall the galas where you’ve interacted?”

Tim frowned and shook his head. “We’ve only exchanged pleasantries a handful of times. I’m sure of that.”

Bruce nodded. “Well, I’m sorry to disturb your evening but I’ll leave you to your night.”

“Right,” Tim said. “Have a good night.”

“You too,” Bruce said and strode away.

As Bruce approached the elevator at the end of the hall, Jason and Dick saw where Tim was staring after him, still looking completely perplexed and confused.

Bruce stepped into the elevator and hit a random button. Once the doors slid shut, he looked around himself.

“Pull me out,” he instructed. “There’s nothing else I can do here.”

“I guess that’s it then,” Dick sighed, tapping away at the computer in front of him. The screen faded to black as Bruce shifted on the table behind them.

Jason glanced over his shoulder and wasn’t surprised to find he was sitting up much quicker than Dick had.

“What do we do now?” Jason asked.

Bruce pulled the headband from his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m not sure why but whatever is keeping Tim under knows enough about both me and Dick that it can make us blend into Tim’s everyday life and memories.”

“Sooooo who can we send in to try and make Tim understand that he’s been in a coma for the past year and isn’t actually living his real life?” Dick asked.

Jason huffed and ran a hand through his hair, trying to see some solution for this problem. He wasn’t sure if multiple attempts by Bruce or Dick would change anything, but it would be worth a shot considering how long they’d waited as it was.

He glanced up and found Dick and Bruce looking at him.

“What?” he asked.

“You might be able to help Tim realize he’s living in his own head,” Dick said.

“What?” he repeated.

Bruce hummed and stood from the bed, ripping the patches from his chest that connected him to the heart monitor.

“We don’t know what kind of technology is working against us. If it has access to public records, it would know that because of Tim’s background we’re the two who Tim would most likely have come into contact with. There might be a workaround since you didn’t grow up with wealthy parents,” Bruce explained.

“And for all intents and purposes, you’re legally dead,” Dick pointed out.

Jason hesitated. “Do you really think this is going to work?”

“It’s the best we can do right now,” Dick agreed. “If this doesn’t work then we can regroup and figure something else out. Maybe we could all go in and confront Tim together instead of trying to do something one-on-one while Alfred watches over us.”

Jason sighed. “Okay,” he agreed. “I guess it can’t hurt anything.”

He picked up the patches and stuck them under his shirt, finally bringing an end to the shrill beep from the machine once it detected a heartbeat again. He shoved the headband on his head and stretched out on the hospital bed, shivering slightly.

He took deep breaths, trying not to think about what was about to happen. Bruce and Dick had both already been inside Tim’s head so there was no reason to worry about potentially adverse effects from it.

Jason heard the soft click of keys at the computer and almost thought the feeling of dozing was in his mind if his limbs weren’t becoming weighed down on the table. He closed his eyes, the tug more insistent now that he was being pulled under.

He furrowed his brow, feeling like he was floating for a moment but completely aware of his mind. The sensation was close to being underwater where the sounds around him were muffled.

A horn honked in the distance as he tried to swim upward to consciousness and understanding. Soft conversations floated around him and warmth spread over his skin as a bird chirped over his head.

Jason blinked and found himself standing in the middle of the sidewalk of Gotham city. The sun was low in the sky signaling the early morning hour. No one gave him a second thought even as he stayed put between the lines of traffic moving in opposite directions.

He took a deep breath and turned, glancing at the nearest street sign to orient himself. He was a couple street signs over from Drake Industries. He could only hope that he would be able to catch Tim before he made it to work.

Jason jogged down the street and hurried through a crosswalk before the light changed. He darted around several people walking in the opposite direction and narrowly avoided clipping someone carrying a drink carrier filled with coffee cups. He spotted the front of Drake Industries and slowed to a walk as he approached, searching for Tim amidst the crowd.

He looked across the street but didn’t see Tim anywhere. He wished he had a watch that was set to the current time in Tim’s head.

“Sorry, excuse me. So sorry. I’m sorry.”

Jason looked up and found Tim pushing between people strolling on the sidewalk. He looked flustered and panicked and his tie was crooked.

Jason jogged to intercept his path.

“Excuse me,” Jason started.

Tim glanced up at him, obviously ready to tell him he didn’t have the time when he froze, eyes going wide.

“You’re dead.”

Jason frowned. “What?” he asked.

Tim flailed backward, mouth opening and closing. He raised a hand and pointed at Jason. “You’re Jason Todd. You can’t be here. You’re dead.”

Jason glanced around and found a few people taking notice of Tim’s panicked state. He raised his hands to try and calm him down.

“Look Tim, just calm down for me for a minute. I just want to talk to you.”

“How-how do you know my name?” he asked, the color draining from his face.

“How do you know mine?” Jason countered.

Tim froze, his panic ebbing in the face of confusion.

“We’ve never met in person, have we?” Jason pressed.

Tim opened and closed his mouth. “I…I don’t know how I know your name,” he admitted. “Why do I know who you are?”

“Is there somewhere we can go to talk? A coffeeshop maybe? Somewhere we can have some privacy to talk that isn’t the middle of the sidewalk.”

Tim nodded, head going up and down frantically. “Yes. Yeah. There’s a shop just around the corner. Follow me.” He turned on his heel and started power-walking back the way he came.

Jason jogged to catch up and stuffed his hands into his pockets, keeping up with Tim easily. He glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and Jason fought to remain relaxed and calm in the face of Tim’s uncertainty and panic and what was probably going to be fear once they worked through the reality of Tim’s situation.

Tim pushed through the wooden door of a small coffeeshop nestled between buildings.

“Do you want anything?” Tim asked, glancing at the counter.

“You don’t need to buy me anything,” Jason said quickly. “But I’d recommend getting green tea to calm down considering.”

Tim pursed his lips. “Feel free to find somewhere to sit.”

“Sure thing,” Jason said. He turned to the shop and spotted a table in the back corner away from the rest of the customers.

Jason walked to the corner and took the chair that kept his back to the wall, giving him a view of the shop and through the windows at the front of the building.

Tim dropped his bag next to the chair opposite Jason and sat down, hugging the cup tightly between his hands.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay,” he repeated, fighting to compose himself. “Can you explain to me why I know who you are even though I’ve never talked to you before?”

Jason sighed and leaned forward. “I know this might sound crazy and you might not believe me at first, but I hope that I can convince you what’s really going on. This, what you see around you,” Jason said, waving at the coffeeshop. “This isn’t real.”

Tim stared at him. “What?” he asked. “You can’t be serious, can you?”

Jason nodded. “I am. Whatever you do with Drake Industries, whatever life you’re living, it’s not really yours. You do work with Wayne Enterprises and you’re a fucking badass. You know how to kick butt like the best of us.”

“What do you mean ‘the best of us?’”

“You’re...” Jason huffed and ran a hand through his hair. “You’re a vigilante. You fight crime at night and protect the people of Gotham and I do too. A year ago, you got hit with some technology that forced you into a coma. We’ve been trying to find some way to pull you out since and this is the first contact we’ve been able to make with you.”

Tim stared at him. “A vigilante? Me? I’m like, the weakest person ever. There’s no way I could legitimately fight someone.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “But you can. And you do a fucking amazing job at it.”

Tim continued to stare, and Jason had one fleeting moment of hope that Tim might believe him. They could get started on working out how to free Tim from his head and get him out.

Tim shook his head. “You’re crazy, I…that’s right you have to be crazy. None of this is actually real. It’s not that you’re dead, it’s that I don’t know you and you’re pulling my leg.” Tim nodded to himself as he continued to work through his rationalization. “I’m just exhausted and willing to be fed any lame story at this point. This is some elaborate prank. I’m sure my friends put you up to this.”

Jason’s stomach sank. “No, Tim wait.”

Tim shook his head. “I must really be stuck in a rut if I’m willing to even consider things like this,” he muttered as he grabbed his bag and made his way to the door.

“Fuck,” Jason muttered running his hands down his face. He gave himself a second to think before he shoved his chair back and stood, ready to follow Tim from the shop and make him understand.

The sounds around him became fuzzy as he took a step and he blinked, trying to clear his vision that darkened quickly. Nausea curled in his stomach and he coughed and wheezed when too-bright light shined over his head.

“What the fuck?” he asked, rolling onto his side to see Bruce and Dick watching him. “What the hell did you pull me out for?” he accused. “I could’ve tried something else.”

“We didn’t pull you out,” Bruce said slowly.

Jason stilled and pushed himself upright, carefully taking the headband off to cradle in his lap as the last wisps of nausea started to dissipate. “What?” he asked.

“We didn’t pull you out,” Dick repeated.

“Then how the hell am I back out here?” he asked.

Dick and Bruce shared a look before they shook their heads, helpless.

“It could be some form of interference from what’s been keeping Tim under. If it registered your presence that might’ve been its attempt to delete your code form it’s system but since you’re not part of it, it just temporarily deleted your presence and forced you back to the real world,” Bruce explained.

“But that can be a good thing, can’t it?” Jason asked. “If it was trying to delete my code, that means I can affect whatever world it’s created. It means I can influence Tim and have him realize what he’s been pulled into.”

“We’ll need to do more research to make sure there’s no way for this to kill you permanently,” Bruce warned.

Jason waved his hand and pulled the patches from his chest, tossing them onto the hospital bed. “Make sure it’s quick. We have a way to talk to Tim, we shouldn’t waste any more time than it’s already taken to get this far.” He walked around the hospital bed and shut off the heart monitor to stop it’s incessant beeping.

“We’ll get you back in as soon as we can,” Dick said, moving to the computer next to Bruce.

Jason nodded and set the headband on the hospital bed pillow. No matter what they found, he knew he was going to go under again. They had a chance to save Tim and they weren’t about to waste it no matter what the risk was going to be.

He looked at Bruce and Dick as they worked on the computer. He couldn’t do much when they hoarded the computer, but he wasn’t going to bug them. He was going to go upstairs and make himself a sandwich and share a pot of tea with Alfred while he worked through everything he’d just seen.

The technology was powerful beyond belief if it could change Tim’s attitude within the span of a few seconds. Tim had almost believed him. Jason was sure of it. He just needed to give him a little push to get him there.

He sighed and crossed the floor to the stairs that would take him back up to the Manor proper. He really needed that tea.

~~

Tim sat down in the chair of his office, still clutching the cup of tea he’d gotten from the coffeeshop. He was trying to make sense of the whole encounter and he knew there couldn’t be any stock in it. He didn’t know the person he’d met. There was no reason for him to know him and it was nothing more than a sick joke.

He’d just been frazzled from oversleeping and needing to get ready for work. The day before had been weird too.

“Must be a full moon coming,” he muttered as he took a sip of the lukewarm tea some stranger had recommended. Normally he didn’t get anything other than coffee, but he was surprised that the tea had helped calm him down after his morning rush.

The only thing he needed to worry about was the work on his desk and making sure Drake Industries was running as it should. He could get through a day at work, he’d meet his friends for dinner and when he got home, he could fall into bed and sleep and push all of this from his mind.

Tim pulled his laptop from his back and logged in quickly, ready to try and distract himself with work. This was normal. This was where he was supposed to be, not having weird conversations with strangers in the back of a coffeeshop.

~~

Tim found himself running down the street for the second time that day after work. His mission to distract himself had succeeded in making him lose track of time so he was running late for the dinner he’d planned with his friends.

Half the day had been spent staring off into space or reading the same sets of numbers three times before he realized his mind was still in the back of that coffeeshop with the strange man who’d approached him on the street.

Tim pushed through the door of the relaxed restaurant they’d picked and gave the hostess a smile as he passed, making a beeline for the booth his friends had already been seated at.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, taking the open seat on the aisle they’d left for him.

“What’s up with you today?” Frank asked. “You’re never late for dinner.”

“Just been distracted,” Tim said, smile tight.

“What’s going on?” Lisa added, bracing her forearms on the table. She was always eager for some gossip.

“The strangest thing happened to me this morning,” he admitted, fiddling with the thick menu in front of him.

That got the attention of the whole group and they all leaned in.

“This weird guy came up to me on the street this morning and for some reason I blurted out that he couldn’t be here because he’s dead. And then he took me to a coffeeshop and tried to explain to me that I’ve been in a coma for the past year and the world around me is a dream or something. Basically, that my life isn’t not real. I mean, I don’t know who set up this elaborate prank, but it was super weird.”

“He’s an idiot, whoever he is,” Lisa sniffed, sitting back and crossing her arms.

“Yeah a complete nutjob,” Frank agreed, frowning.

“He should be locked up for harassing someone on the street like that,” Trent scoffed. “I can’t believe you would let yourself be taken to a coffeeshop by that guy. He could’ve easily pulled you into an alley and mugged you or murdered you.”

Tim opened and closed his mouth, trying to find something to say. He’d expected some form of reassurance form them that it was just some weird joke or maybe even a confused person or conspiracy theorist. But he hadn’t expected them to get so hostile about a stranger he’d run into on the sidewalk.

It didn’t really make sense.

“Right, yeah,” Tim said, voice weak. “I’ll be more careful next time and won’t get drawn in by strangers.”

“Good,” Lisa said, her posture relaxing. “Now, what are you all thinking of getting?” she asked, flipping open the cover of her menu to look over the options she already knew by heart.

Tim swallowed and opened his own menu, for once wanting nothing more than to ditch his friends and their dinner in favor of crawling into bed to try and forget everything around him.

Maybe if the world around him was a dream, he could wake up into something better and less confusing the next morning.

~~

“Okay what did you find out?” Jason asked, jogging down the steps to the Cave. “It had been a day since his first encounter with Tim and he was itching to get back into his head to talk to him again.

“We don’t think there’s any chance you could be killed by whatever technology is keeping Tim under,” Bruce said carefully.

“So, there’s no reason for me not to go back in,” Jason said simply. “Let’s do this then.”

He walked over to the table and jammed the headband on his head. He carefully stuck the patches from the heart monitor on his chest and turned it on, another steady beeping filling the Cave alongside Tim’s heart.

“We’re not sure you should go back in,” Bruce said.

Jason rolled his eyes. “Don’t even start, old man.” He ignored how Bruce wrinkled his nose. “This is the best chance we have to finally free Tim from this villain-induced prison and we should take it. I might be able to make some progress and if there’s less of a chance of this tech being able to kill me, all the better. We shouldn’t waste the one chance we’ve worked so hard to get.”

Bruce’s lips thinned but he nodded and moved over to the computer.

Jason took a deep breath and let his eyes slide shut.

The transition was easier this time and the world inside Tim’s head came into focus quicker than it had the first time. He opted to think that was because he’d done it once already and not for anything sinister.

Instead of appearing on the sidewalk where he had the first time, Jason found himself standing in the coffeeshop where Tim had walked away from him. No one around him seemed bothered by his appearance and Jason made his way for the front door, pushing out onto the sidewalk.

He strode towards the corner and blinked when Tim hurried down the sidewalk in front of him.

“Tim!” he called.

Tim froze, head whipping around to face him with wide eyes.

“Jason,” he breathed.

Jason frowned, taking in the bags under Tim’s eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked, stepping forward. "You look like you haven’t slept.”

Tim nodded, finally pulling himself away from where he was frozen in the middle of the flow of people. He hurried over to Jason.

“You’re real,” he said, taking in every inch of Jason. “You really are real.”

“Of course I’m real. Why wouldn’t you think I’m real?” Jason scoffed.

Tim’s hysterical laugh pushed out of his chest unbidden. He cleared his throat and glanced over his shoulder. “Do you mind if we go somewhere and talk?” he asked.

Jason shrugged and shook his head. “We could go back to the coffeeshop from yesterday,” he said, hiking a thumb over his shoulder.

Tim shook his head, features contorting in panic at the thought of speaking in public. “No, I’d rather…I’d rather go somewhere more private. Do you mind if you come back to my apartment?”

“Not at all…” Jason said.

Tim nodded, looking relieved. “Okay,” he sighed. “Okay.” He grabbed Jason’s hand and turned back the way he came.

Jason glanced at the people they passed but let himself get tugged along, not willing to put up any fight, especially when Tim was so tense.

They covered the street blocks at a quick clip. And Jason was surprised when no one spared them a second glance at their pace.

The apartment security guard glanced up at their entrance and seemed confused to see Tim back when he’d just left but he didn’t say anything at Jason’s appearance. Tim pulled him into the elevator and hit the top button. He repeatedly pressed the button to close the doors, but they still shut much slower than Tim would’ve liked.

He tapped his foot impatiently as they rose from one door to the next, the light cycling through the numbers at a snail’s pace.

“Tim, you can relax it’s okay,” Jason tried, keeping his voice gentle.

Tim shook his head. He glanced at Jason, eyes still wide and bit at his lip, chewing on the chapped skin.

“Finally,” he muttered when the elevator beeped at his floor and the doors slipped open. He tugged Jason out behind him and hurried down the hall, eyes locked on the door of his apartment.

He tugged his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door with one hand, not willing to let Jason go now that he’d shown his face again. He tugged Jason in behind him and slammed the door shut, sliding the deadbolt into place.

“There,” he sighed, bracing his hands against the door as his head dropped between his shoulders.

“Is everything okay?” Jason asked.

Tim’s hands slid down the wood with a soft scratch and swung at his sides. “No,” he admitted, finally turning to face Jason. “I thought I was going insane.” He gripped his hair and tugged. “You just showed up and told me that the world around me was fake and then you disappeared, and I haven’t seen you for a couple days.”

“A couple of days?” Jason asked. “It’s only been one day.”

Tim frowned and stared at him. “What?”

“Only a day has passed in the…outside,” he said.

They stared at each other for a moment.

“I guess time flows differently here?” Tim offered.

Jason ran a hand through his hair and nodded. “Okay, keep going. What else has happened?”

“My friends have gotten so hostile since I told them about our little chat the first time. They keep asking about you and I swear the last time I went to work, when I looked away from my computer, I could see blue code covering my screen but when I looked back, the spreadsheet I was working on was right there where I’d left it. Jason, I…I don’t know what to do. I feel like I’m going to crazy and kept looking for you and when I couldn’t find you anywhere…I almost checked into a hospital,” he admitted, voice rising in his panic.

“Tim, Tim,” Jason said, gripping his wrists as he grew more hysterical. “Look at me.”

Tim reluctantly met his eyes and Jason could really see the kind of toll this was taking on him.

“Listen to me,” Jason said slowly. “You’re not going crazy. You’re not losing your mind. I’m real and I’m going to help you get through this. You need to get in control of the world around you. As real as everything might seem, you’re in charge here. All of this is built inside of your mind. Once you take control, you can end this and free yourself.”

Tim took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay. Okay. I can do that. How do we do that?”

“I think the best place to start is to keep unraveling what’s around you. You said you saw blue code on your computer screen?”

Tim nodded.

“Look for that in other places. Break down the reality in front of you until there’s nothing left but your own thoughts.”

“Yeah, but how?” Tim asked. “I don’t think I can do that.”

“Sure you can,” Jason insisted. “You’re smart. You have the best mind of all of us bats. If anyone can get out of this mess, it’s going to be you.”

“Okay, so let’s say you’re right,” Tim said carefully. “Let’s say I’m as smart as you say and can figure all of this out. I’ve got a business degree. I don’t know anything about undercover operations or whatever else.”

“Yes, you can do all of that. And you know how to fight. You can kick anyone’s ass who gets on your bad side.”

Tim stared at him like he was insane. He shook his head.

“There’s no-”

Jason huffed and threw a punch at Tim’s face. Tim took a step back to plant his rear foot and blocked the blow with his forearm. Jason smirked and stepped back, letting himself relax.

“See?” Jason asked. “I don’t think you’d be able to do that without any martial arts training.”

“I blocked a punch,” Tim said, staring down at his palms. “This is impossible.”

“No, it’s not,” Jason said, grinning down at him. “I think it’s time we got planning.”

“I guess I should make some coffee?” Tim suggested.

Jason chuckled. “That would probably be for the best.”

Tim waved Jason into the kitchen and changed the settings of his coffeemaker. He measured out two spoons and poured them into the top.

“Okay,” Tim said, sitting across the island from Jason as he left it to brew. “What are we going to do?”

“Like I said, work on finding those cracks in the world around you. You said your friends have gotten hostile since you first told them about me. I think they might be someone to watch out for. Stay guarded around them, especially if they start asking more probing questions.”

Tim nodded. “Right, yeah I can do that. This is going to take a while isn’t it?” he asked.

Jason shrugged and hesitated. “Probably yeah. Whatever’s been keeping you in a coma is pretty powerful stuff, so it’s not going to be easy.”

“How-” Tim stopped and hesitated. “How long have I been trapped in here?”

Jason pursed his lips. “It’s been…” He let out a heavy breath. “It’s been a year since you were hit.”

Tim paled and gripped the edge of the counter, swallowing harshly. “Really?” he squeaked.

Jason sighed and nodded. “Yeah. It took us a long time to figure out what was keeping you under. And then even longer before we managed to put together the tech to get us in here.”

Tim’s expression hollowed and Jason wanted to pull him close and tell him everything was okay. No one deserved to lose so much of their life.

“Ti-”

Jason pursed his lips together as the world blacked out around him and the sounds muffled before returning with an unfortunate pop. He groaned and pressed a hand against his head, blinking his eyes open to find the ceiling of the Cave arching high above him.

“What the hell?” he asked, turning to look at Dick and Bruce who both somehow looked perplexed.

“We didn’t pull you out,” Dick said, shaking his head.

“It’s the same thing that happened last time,” Bruce said with a frown. “Something recognizes you as a foreign presence and is forcing you from Tim’s head to keep from interfering.”

“Well you’ve got to get me back in there,” Jason insisted. “We were finally making a breakthrough.”

Bruce nodded and tapped against the keys of the computer. “Just relax and we’ll get you back in. I’m sure Tim’s confused enough as it is.”

Jason took a deep breath and let it out through his mouth. He closed his eyes and waited for the sensation of being pulled under. Several seconds passed and it didn’t come. He frowned and opened his eyes, turning to look at Bruce.

“Anytime now, old man,” he said.

“It’s not working,” he said, frowning. “Something’s blocking the signal from connecting. I’ll keep working on it. Just stay there.”

Jason sighed and nodded, raising his head and slamming it back down into the pillow under his head. He was tired of waiting. They’d waited a year before they got to talk to him and now he was going to have to wait again. Tim was going to have to wait for him to come back.

~~

Jason was sipping from the glass of water Alfred had brought for him while he was waiting when he felt the first tug. He stretched towards the small table and set the glass down, making himself comfortable when he closed his eyes and found the sounds changing around him.

He opened his eyes and found himself back in Tim’s apartment as something shattered.

Tim was standing next to his coffeepot, staring at him with wide eyes. “You’re back,” he whispered. “I thought you weren’t coming back, Jason, I…I thought-”

Jason shook his head. “We had some trouble getting me back into your head. I didn’t mean to be gone for so long. How long was I gone anyway?”

“It’s been three days,” he whimpered, sounding and looking small.

Jason let out a breath and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t do it on purpose.” He looked at Tim and he nodded.

Tim cleared his throat and bent to start cleaning up the shards of the mug he’d dropped.

“So, what’s happened while I’ve been gone?” he asked.

Tim tossed the ceramic shards into the trash and wet a washcloth to clean up the coffee covering the floor and cabinets.

“My friends asked about you again, but I did my best to make everything seem as normal. They’ve calmed down a bit and seem less suspicious than they did right after I told them about our first meeting.”

“Have more cracks started to appear?” Jason asked.

Tim nodded. “A few. They always disappear when I’m looking at something directly, but it’s like nothing really exists in my periphery anymore. I think my…I think the people who I thought were my friends are watching me. I don’t know if I need to fight them or what, but I’m worried something will have to happen with them.”

Jason grinned. “Well, I do like a good fight. And it is the fastest way to get results. Are you thinking we do this Matrix style?”

Tim frowned. “What style?” he asked.

Jason stared. “You can’t tell me you’ve never seen the Matrix?”

Tim shook his head.

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. “I swear to god whatever tech is keeping you stuck in your head better be the reason you don’t know this movie. If it’s not, we’re going to be watching this as soon as we get you out of here.”

Tim chuckled and bit his lip. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“What am I like? Outside in the real world? I know you said I’m a good fighter and good with whatever work it is you do, but…what do I do in real life?”

“Well you know the whole vigilante bit,” Jason said, walking around the kitchen island to brace his hands against it. “Other than that, you’re in college. Doing something with computer science, I think. Or maybe business. Or both, I’m not really sure at this point. So, you’ve got a bunch of homework and classes you sometimes go to and other times sleep through. At least that’s what I’ve heard anyway… And then you’ve got your work at W.E.-”

“Wait,” Tim interrupted, holding up a hand as he smiled. “W.E. as in Wayne Enterprises? I work at Wayne Enterprises?”

Jason shrugged and nodded. “You pretty much run it since Bruce doesn’t give a shit. He’s more concerned with flying around at night in spandex.”

Tim narrowed his eyes. “I’m going to have a conversation with Bruce once I get back,” he said, tone low and threatening.

Jason grinned. “He’s watching right now. I’m surprised he hasn’t come in here to confront you already.”

Tim chuckled and ducked his head. He was quiet for a moment and Jason knew he was working himself up to ask his next question.

“What’s…what’s our relationship like?” Tim whispered. “Are we like…friends or what?”

Jason shifted on his stool, trying to figure out how to explain their complicated history. “We…aren’t really friends, I guess? We didn’t have such a good history when we first met each other. Kind of hated each other a bit not gonna lie, but we worked through that in time and we’re on pretty good terms now.”

Tim frowned and didn’t look very happy at what Jason said. “Do you think…is it possible that once I get out of here, could we be friends? I don’t think I want to go back to whatever things were like between us.”

Jason smiled. “Sure, Tim. We can try to be friends once you’re out of your head.”

“Thanks, Jason,” Tim whispered. “For everything, I guess.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Jason warned. “We have to get you out of here first.”

Tim huffed a laugh and smiled. He looked up at Jason through his eyelashes. He opened his mouth to say something else when Jason disappeared in front of his eyes, winking out of existence as soon as he’d come.

Tim frowned and sighed. He knew it wasn’t Jason’s fault that he was pulled out and it was whatever was messing with him and keeping him trapped in his own head, but it still made his chest ache. He’d have to fight harder and get out of his head. He just hoped that whenever Jason showed up, he’d be able to help him fight whatever was keeping him trapped.

~~

Tim slammed his hand down on the alarm clock next to his head. He groaned and sat up and rubbed his eyes. The sun was just starting to peek through the blinds in front of his window, but he wasn’t in a hurry to jump in the shower and head to the office. He’d never go to the office again. At least, not the one inside his own head.

He threw off the covers and pushed himself out of bed, grabbing a pair of jeans and a hoodie on his way to the bathroom. He made a face at his reflection and ran a hand through his hair, trying to pat it down and make it look presentable.

He stripped out of his pajamas and left them in a pile on the floor before pulling on his change of clothes. He sighed and ran through the mental list of supplies he’d put together the night before.

Somehow, someway, he’d managed to find a small shop that sold weapons and fighting knives. He’d also found reviews that listed the shop as selling smoke grenades and flash bombs. Tim wasn’t sure if that was legal or not, but he didn’t care when his main goal was to gather enough supplies to fight the people keeping him locked in his head.

Tim stuffed his wallet and phone into the pocket of his hoodie and slipped his arms through an empty backpack. He grabbed his keys and gave one last look around his apartment, eyes landing on the seat where he’d last seen Jason during his visit the night before.

He expected to come back once he got his supplies, but this was his chance to break free of whatever was holding him inside his head. The idea of freedom and having control over his life once again was thrilling and already forcing adrenaline into his veins as he prepared for the fight to come.

Tim locked the door of his apartment behind him with a strange sense of finality. He glanced down the hallway and found it empty, not that he really expected much else. His footfalls were heavy on the wooden steps leading to the first floor.

He nodded at the security guard who gave him a curious look at seeing him out of his normal business clothes. Tim pushed through the front door and stepped into the warm, morning sunlight.

He stepped to the edge of the sidewalk and raised his hand, unsurprised when a cab stopped for him and let him inside. He rattled off the address of the shop and settled in for the ride once they pulled away from the curb.

Now that Tim thought about it, he’d never had an issue catching a cab even in the worst of Gotham’s traffic. Someone always stopped to pick him up. Normally, he was dressed in something nicer because of his day at the office or whatever show he’d attended for the night, but now that he was in an unimpressive pair of jeans and a nondescript hoodie, it was less likely he would’ve gotten a ride so easily.

The larger and more ostentatious buildings fell away into something uniform. The businesses were smaller, the street corners marked by international food sellers and corner markets for minor grocery shopping.

The cab slowed and pulled over to the curb.

“That’ll be $21.25,” the cabby said, holding his hand over his shoulder.

Tim passed him a twenty and a five and pushed out of the car, shutting the door behind him. The cab hesitated a moment before it pulled away and Tim strode to the bar-covered door of the small shop. He pulled it open, a loud electronic beeping sounding over his head.

The shopkeeper looked up and narrowed his eyes at Tim. He straightened and Tim could see the muscles stretched the sleeves of his shirt.

“Can I help you?” he asked, voice low and gruff and filled with suspicion.

“I’d like to purchase a few things,” Tim said, turning to face him, but not closing the distance.

The man lifted his chin. “Have at it then.”

Tim nodded and started down the first aisle. He spotted an array of collapsible, aluminum bo staffs. He lifted one form the rack and extended it with a flick of his wrist. The metal was cool in his hand, but the weight was comforting. He tilted it back and forth, testing the balance.

He nodded to himself and pressed the ends together to collapse it and carry through the store with him.

The knives were next, and Tim picked up four of them, going for the simplest design that had the best weight and balance. He stacked them on top of the staff resting in his palm.

Tim passed the aisle with escrima sticks and smaller weapons until he found the small flash bombs and smoke grenades. He piled as many in the crook of his arm as he could hold. He wasn’t sure how handy they’d be in his fight since he was flying blind, but at this point it was a life or death situation and whatever money he did have wouldn’t do him any good if he lost.

He doubted he’d be allowed to gallivant around in his own head now that he was making an effort to escape and break the hold he was under.

Tim eased the armful of goods he had onto the counter, not wanting any of them to roll off or to accidentally set of the bombs he needed to purchase.

“Quite the array of things you’ve got there,” he said, raising an eyebrow. He lifted the bo staff and expertly extended it. “Nice choice with this one. Perfect for your form actually. And the knives are paired well with it,” he added, balancing one of them on his finger. “What exactly do you need the rest for?” he asked, eyeing Tim over the smoke and flash bombs.

Tim shrugged. “That’s not really important, is it?” he asked, pulling out a wad of cash. “How much?”

He crossed his arms and looked down his nose at Tim. “$250.”

Tim raised an eyebrow and knew that the price of everything he’d picked up was closer to $180. He watched the shopkeepers’ eyes as he first peeled off ten twenty dollar bills. He continued, adding three more to the stack, but he didn’t stop there, adding more to the pile until there was $500 sitting on the counter.

He slid the bills across the counter and the shopkeeper gaped at him. He looked between the bills and Tim. “Who are you?”

Tim pocketed the rest of the money he’d brought with him. “That’s none of your concern.”

He shook his head and swiped the money from the counter, stuffing the bills into the register. “I swear you better not be doing anything weird with that. I don’t need the cops hunting me down because you’re going on some freaky murder spree.”

“Don’t worry,” he assured, slipping his arms out of the straps of his backpack to load his purchases into it. “It’s nothing like that. You’re going to be perfectly safe.”

The shopkeeper didn’t look convinced, but Tim didn’t much care as he turned on his heel and walked out of the store.

The electronic beeping sounded over his head and Tim blinked as the ground shifted under his feet and the stores around him disappeared and were replaced by a large, empty parking lot.

Tim scowled at finding his “friends” standing across form him, all wearing matching grins dripping with malice.

“I’d like to say this is a pleasant surprise,” Tim said, swinging the backpack around to pull the bo staff from it. “But this isn’t pleasant or a surprise.” He extended the bo with a flick of his wrist and settled back into a fighting stand, spreading his feet so they kept the weight distributed under his shoulders.

Lisa rolled her eyes. “You were always such a bore, but I truly thought you’d never be smart enough to put the pieces together.”

“Should’ve known you were the ring leader, Lisa,” Tim said. “You always were the most demanding of the bunch.

She sneered at him. “You can try and insult me as much as you like but I’m so glad I don’t have to watch over your scrawny ass anymore.”

“I was getting tired of all the monotonous lunches and dinner parties,” Trent agreed, rolling his head.

“And now we can force you to stay here forever and actually enjoy ourselves instead of playing along with this ridiculous charade,” Frank added.

“Too bad for you, I’m not planning on staying trapped in here any longer. I’m going back to my life that you stole me away from. And I’m going to track down the maniac who decided it would be fun to leave me stuck in here. I’m going to make him regret ever coming into contact with me.”

“Doubtful,” Lisa said, tilting her head to the side at an unnatural angle. “Trent, Frank, go have some fun.”

They grinned and sprinted towards him. Trent was faster than Frank and got to him first. Tim parried his first punch with the staff and used the added range of it to swing the bo around and knock the opposite end against the side of Trent’s head.

He staggered back, clutching the side of his head as Frank closed the distance between him and Tim. Tim thrust the end of his staff to hit him in the chest, but Frank caught the end of his bo between his hands and twisted, yanking Tim towards him.

Tim grit his teeth and dropped his weight, leaning backwards as Frank tried to make a grab for him. Keeping the staff gripped tightly in one of his hands, Tim smacked Frank’s hands to the side and swung forward, knocking his forehead into Frank’s nose.

He shouted in pain and staggered backwards, releasing Tim’s staff to clutch at his bleeding nose. An arm wrapped around his neck, pulling him back in a chokehold against Trent’s chest. Tim grit his teeth and reflexively gasped, but no oxygen entered his lungs.

He swung his staff over his head and knocked Trent on the head. The grip relaxed around his throat as Trent groaned in pain and Tim took the chance to stomp on his foot and twist in the grip. He broke the hold and stepped forward, swinging his elbow behind him to connect with Trent’s temple.

Tim ducked under the arm Frank extended in his direction and dropped his bo, wrapping his hands around Frank’s forearm and bicep. He hunched forward and threw Frank over his back and onto the ground, forcing the air from his lungs.

Tim swiped the bo from the ground and put space between himself and Frank and Trent while he dug around his backpack for two daggers. He collapsed his bo and stuck it in the pocket of his hoodie.

Frank struggled to sit up as Trent charged at Tim again. Tim ducked under his hold and thrust the dagger into his chest, slicing between his ribs and into his heart.

Trent choked, staring at Tim with wide eyes as blood slipped out of the wound and coated Tim’s hands crimson. He staggered backward and looked down at his chest where the hilt of the dagger protruded from his chest.

He coughed and blood dribbled from his lips, covering his chin and dripping onto his shirt. Tim turned back to Frank and heard a thump behind him as Trent fell to the ground. Frank was struggling to sit up and Tim swung out his leg, connecting with the side of his head to send him rolling across the floor.

He groaned as he came to a stop on his stomach and Tim stalked over to him, aware of Lisa’s eyes on him. He used the toe of his sneaker to roll Frank onto his back. He switched the hold on his dagger and raised it over his head before he knelt and plunged the blade into Frank’s chest.

Frank stiffened, a wounded sound wrenching itself from his throat. He fought to grip Tim’s arm and force the dagger from his chest, but his strength was weak and he didn’t have much leverage.

His movements slowed as he coughed, blood sliding out of the side of his mouth. Tim stood and turned away from his limp body, finding Lisa sneering at the dead bodies of her comrades.

“Useless,” she muttered. “You know what they say, never trust anyone else with the important tasks.”

Tim rolled his eyes. He pulled the last two daggers from his backpack and gripped them tightly in his hands. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I’m going to get rid of you now.”

She cackled and held out her hand, a jagged-blade dagger appearing in her hand. “I think you misunderstand. It’s your turn to die.”

Tim grinned and raised the daggers in his hands like he would if he was going to fight hand-to-hand. “You’re wrong.”

“Oh?” she asked, looking displeased.

“I can’t die in my own head.”

Her grin turned feral. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

Tim staggered back when Lisa appeared in front of him, slashing the dagger across his chest. It ripped through the fabric of his hoodie with a sick sound and drew a thin line of fire on his chest.

He hurried backwards, putting space between them as warmth seeped from his chest. He could tell it was shallow thanks to his hoodie, but it wouldn’t hold up against attacks that fierce for long.

Tim lowered his stance and growled. Lisa didn’t give him a chance to close the distance before she was in his space again, but he was prepared for her this time. He parried her blows, metal slicing against metal loud enough to raise goosebumps on his arms.

He was thankful for both of his daggers against her singular weapon and from the glimmer in Lisa’s eyes, he doubted she’d materialize another weapon considering how much she was enjoying the challenge of fighting him.

Tim caught her blade on the hilt of his dagger and swiped out with his other dagger, tearing the collar of her shirt and slicing the skin underneath.

She growled as blood seeped into her shirt and she drew her blade back, slicing down where Tim had been a second ago, but he spun to the side, putting a few feet of distance between them.

“Not bad,” she purred, stalking towards him. “Not bad at all for someone who forgot how to fight.”

“I’ve never forgotten,” Tim spat. “It’s always been there, waiting for me to use.”

He darted forward to make a counterattack, wincing when her blade cut into his bicep and was held their as the muscle flexed. He gripped her shirt and placed the edge of his blade against her neck.

“Whatever wounds you give me now are going to be gone as soon as I wake up.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” she said, chuckle strangled and low in the back of her throat as she arched her head away from his blade.

“But I am sure that I don’t need to trust anything say,” he snarled, dragging his dagger across her throat.

Her eyes widened and Tim dropped her to her feet. She staggered backwards, hands going to her throat as blood poured from the wound and coated her shirt.

Tim closed his eyes, finally feeling at ease as everything fell away around him.

~~

Jason leaned against the hospital bed, chewing on a sandwich Alfred had brought him when Tim’s heartrate spiked. He swallowed and looked at Tim’s body and then the monitor keeping track of his vitals.

“What’s happening?” Jason asked, looking at Bruce who’d frozen at the computer.

He strode over and shook his head. “This doesn’t make sense.”

“No shit,” Jason said. “Tim’s never done this before.”

Bruce picked up a small penlight and lifted Tim’s eyelid, looking into his eyes. “No response,” he muttered.

“Send me in,” Jason said, shoving the headband onto his head.

“What?” Bruce asked.

“Send me in. Something could be happening in his head and he might need help.”

Bruce’s lips thinned and he nodded. He moved over to the computer as Dick and Alfred rushed down the stairs and sprinted over to them.

“What’s going on?” Dick asked.

Jason shook his head. “We don’t know, but I’m going in to see if I can help.” He stretched out on the table, keeping his eyes on the ceiling as he tried to ignore Tim’s frantic heartbeat and how it made his chest ache.

“I’m transferring you in now,” Bruce said.

Jason let out a heavy breath and waited for the tug that dragged him under. It didn’t come and he furrowed his brow.

“It’s not working,” he said, turning his head to look at Bruce.

Bruce frowned. “Something’s wrong. It’s like what happened after you were forced out of Tim’s head. It’s just not letting you in.”

Jason growled and sat up, tearing the headband off. He opened his mouth to say something else when the rhythmic beating of Tim’s heart ended and a long line of noise emanated from the machine.

Everyone froze for a moment, eyes snapping to Tim before they jumped into action. Alfred rushed for the AED and Jason jumped from his bed, hurrying to Tim’s side as Dick checked his breathing.

“He’s not breathing,” Dick murmured.

“No shit,” Jason said. He lined his hands up in the center of Tim’s chest and immediately started compressions. “I’m not going to let him die. Not after everything he’s been through.”

He paused his compressions as Dick gave him two rescue breaths before counting under his breath again. Alfred appeared at his side with the AED and cut a line down Tim’s shirt around Jason’s hands. He pulled it away and peeled the paper backing from the pads and stuck them to Tim’s chest.

Jason listened to the mechanical voice read out the instructions and reluctantly pulled back as it readied the shock. A blip sounded on the heart monitor, but monotonous tone continued without interruption. Jason grit his teeth and returned to his chest compressions as the machine readied the next charge.

“Come on,” Jason growled.

He pulled his hands back once the machine prompted him and two blips sounded on the heart monitor this time, but Tim’s heart stayed dead.

He saw Dick’s hands shaking as he framed Tim’s face for the rescue breaths.

“Come on, Tim. Come back to us,” he pleaded under his voice.

He pulled back for the third charge, holding his breath as Tim’s heart held steady for a handful of beats before stilling again.

“Again,” he growled. “Again.”

Each time the AED shocked Tim, his heart held on a little longer, but it still wasn’t enough.

“Jason,” Dick murmured when he started compressions again.

“No,” he snarled, not taking his eyes off Tim’s drawn face. “I’m not giving up on him. We’re going to save him.”

He pulled back his hands at the machine’s prompting and waited, balancing on his toes as the shock was given. He prepared to start compressions again when he realized Tim’s heart hadn’t stopped like it had the other times.

Withered hands shoved him away from the table. Jason stumbled back and watched as Alfred began to check over Tim’s body.

“Is he…” Jason started.

“I’m not sure yet, Master Jason,” Alfred said, voice tense. “I need to check him over before I can determine anything, and he still needs to wake.”

Jason nodded and Bruce moved to the other side of the table, offering assistance where he could.

“Come on,” Dick said, pulling Jason towards the stairs. “You’re not doing any good here and you might as well get some rest while you wait and stay out of the way.”

~~

Jason stared down at the cold cup of tea framed between his palms. His leg bounced under the table as he waited for any update on Tim’s condition. Dick had tried to keep him occupied but Jason’s mind was far below the Manor in the Cave.

“Master Jason?”

Jason shoved his chair back and jumped to his feet, knocking over the cup in his hand and sending tea over the table.

“How is he?” he blurted.

Alfred smiled despite the mess he’d just created and stepped to the side, holding the door open for him. “He’s awake and stable. Be gentle with him.”

Jason nodded and sprinted from the room. He heard Dick’s voice behind him but couldn’t make out what was being said.

He jumped the last few steps to the Cave floor and sprinted for the hospital bed. Bruce was standing at Tim’s side and he’d been propped up with several pillows. Tim smiled at him as he approached.

“You’re okay,” Jason said, eyes roving over his gaunt features. “I thought you were going to die but you’re okay.”

Tim nodded. “Bruce said my heart stopped,” he rasped, voice weak from disuse.

Jason swallowed. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I’m sorry,” Tim said.

Jason stepped closer, wanting to touch but he forced his hands to stay at his sides. “What happened in there?”

“He fought the physical manifestation of the technology keeping him trapped in his head,” Bruce answered. “The last attack on the ringleader of sorts happened when his heart stopped. We think it might’ve been a failsafe to kill Tim if they couldn’t keep him incapacitated in his head.”

Jason nodded. “But everything’s okay now, right?” he asked, eyes darting from Bruce to Tim and back.

“As okay as I can be after losing an insurmountable amount of muscle mass,” Tim quipped.

The corner of Jason’s lips quirked up at the joke. “And you remember everything?”

Tim nodded. “Everything you told me and everything that you didn’t have time to tell me.”

“Good,” Jason sighed. “Good.”

“We’ll start physical therapy in the morning,” Bruce said, resting a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “For now, we’ll keep you down here and feed you light food so as not to upset your stomach.”

“I’m ready,” he said, lips thinning with determination. “I’ve lost enough time and I’m ready to get back to my life.”

Bruce nodded at Jason before he left them behind. Jason looked over his shoulder to track Bruce’s movements and waited until he was out of the Cave before he said anything.

“I really am glad you’re okay,” Jason muttered.

“I know, Jason. Alfred told me you wouldn’t stop doing chest compressions even after my heart stopped so many times. Thank you…without you I’d still be stuck in my head and probably wouldn’t have any form of escape since Bruce and Dick couldn’t get through to me when they tried.”

Jason’s cheeks heated and he cleared his throat, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I also remember the Matrix which I have indeed seen and you making that reference makes so much more sense now,” Tim added.

“It’s a good movie,” Jason supplied.

“It is,” Tim agreed. “You feel like watching it?”

Jason furrowed his brow and looked at Tim.

“I’m sure we can pull it up on the computer and watch it on the big screen. I just wish I could have some popcorn.”

Jason grinned and hurried around to the head of Tim’s hospital bed. “I know what we’re going to do now.”

~~

Jason chewed on his lip where he was standing several feet from Tim’s hospital bed. Tim’s face was screwed up in pain and as weak as his grip was, he was clutching the edges of his hospital bed as Alfred worked to move and flex the muscles of his legs that had atrophied from disuse.

Several days had already passed since he’d woken up and he was able to hold down thick broths and soup, but the physical therapy was slow going.

Tim’s forehead was covered with droplets of sweat and he breathed harshly through his nose as he forced his head back into the pillow behind him while he suffered through the exercises Alfred was giving him.

Jason hated seeing him in so much pain, but he knew Tim wasn’t going to let this kind of thing keep him down, not when he had a life to get back to. Staying in bed forever didn’t suit him and he’d gone crazy after a day confined to the bed even when they tried to entertain him with movies and the internet.

“We’re almost done with this leg, Master Timothy,” Alfred said, gentle voice soothing despite the pain he was in. “And then you’ll have a short break and can drink some water before we get started on the other side.”

Tim nodded, teeth clenched shut from concentration and pain.

“And there we are,” Alfred said, stretching out his leg on the mattress.

Tim breathed deeply and let his fingers relax. He sank back into the pillows and Jason could see the exhaustion pulling at him.

“Hey,” Jason said, stepping up next to the bed.

Tim’s head rolled to the side to meet his gaze and Jason could see the emptiness lingering with Tim’s frustration. Jason smiled and squeezed his trembling hand.

“You’re doing great. At this rate you’ll be back on your feet in no time.”

Tim winced and nodded even if he didn’t believe it.

“Alright, Master Timothy, let’s start on the other side.”

Jason stepped away, giving Alfred better access as he lifted Tim’s opposite leg and began to work the muscles. Tim sucked in a breath and his fingers returned to clawing at the mattress, but he suffered through the pain the best he could.

~~

Tim groaned when Jason lowered him into the steaming water of the bath. He leaned heavily against the side of the tub and Jason perched on the edge, running his fingers through Tim’s sweaty strands.

“You doing okay?” Jason asked, giving Tim a moment to enjoy the warmth before he got around to helping wash him.

Tim shrugged, eyes sliding shut as he let out a heavy breath. “I’m tired,” he muttered. “And everything hurts, and I just want to get back to my life.” He sniffed and Jason watched him purse his lips together in what he knew was an effort to keep from getting emotional.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jason said, sliding off the edge of the tub to kneel at Tim’s side. “It’s going to be okay.”

Tim met his gaze and sniffed, tears shining in the corners. “I’ve already lost so much though.”

“But you’re back now and you’re getting stronger every single day.”

“I feel weak,” Tim huffed, looking at the tub around him. “I feel like I’m never going to be strong again and there’s no way that I’m ever going to be out of that fucking hospital bed and I just want to be able to walk across the floor which I can’t even do because the muscles in my legs aren’t even strong enough for me to stand.”

Jason cupped Tim’s face and swiped his thumb through the tears sliding freely down Tim’s cheeks.

“You may not see how strong you’re getting, but I can see it. I can see how incredible you are and how amazing and badass what you’re doing is. So many people wouldn’t be able to come back from something like this, but you get up every day and you fight and you’re going to be able to walk again. You’re doing to be able to stand. You’re going to be able to fight.”

Tim gripped his wrists and Jason forced himself to hold Tim’s gaze instead of glancing down at his thin fingers that were barely able to reach around his wrists.

“It’s going to take a while and you’re going to need to be patient, but I know you’re not going to be like this forever. You can do this, Tim. And if you had to choose between having your full range of movement but still stuck in your head, and having to go through months of physical therapy while being in control of your life, wouldn’t you choose this every time?”

Tim let out a shaky breath and nodded. “Yes. I don’t want to be stuck in my head. I never want to be that helpless again. But why did this even have to happen? Why was I there? Why did I have to get hit? Why did I have so much taken from me?” he whispered.

Jason swallowed, trying to keep his heart from shattering into a million pieces in his chest.

“I don’t know, Tim. I don’t know why this happened to you and you’re the one who has to go through this.”

Tim’s face crumpled and he choked on a sob. Jason sighed and pulled him into an awkward hug over the side of the tub. He didn’t hold him too tightly, still afraid that he might break Tim’s brittle form, but he tried to project as much comfort into the hug as he could.

“It’s going to be okay, Tim. You’re going to beat this and you’re going to be amazing for it.”

Tim nodded against his shoulder, heaving breathless sobs into his shirt.

Jason held him as he cried, fighting down his own emotions. He’d have a chance to feel and process everything that was happening later. Tim didn’t need to see his weakness when he was already in such an emotional state.

Once Tim had his breathing under control, Jason pulled back and wiped the last lingering tears from Tim’s cheeks.

“Are you ready to get cleaned up now or do you need another minute?” he whispered.

Tim shook his head. “I’m okay now.” He glanced at the tub and shivered.

“Is it too cold?” Jason asked.

Tim shrugged. “I just don’t retain heat as well as I used to,” he muttered.

Jason dipped his fingers into the water, finding it just above the side of lukewarm. “I’ll drain some water and add some hotter water to warm it up,” Jason said, reaching for the plug.

He let it drain, keeping an eye on Tim as he crossed his arms and shivered as the waterline dipped lower down his stomach. Once it reached his waist and the band of his briefs he wore in the tub, Jason stoppered the drain and turned on the tap to fill with hot water.

As the tub filled, he grabbed a washcloth and lathered soap into it, rubbing gentle circles into Tim’s skin to clean off any accumulated dirt and sweat that had collected. Tim sighed and leaned forward as he cleaned his back, relaxing under the gentle touch.

Jason smiled, more than happy to help Tim in any way he could.

Once he was finished washing Tim, he grabbed the showerhead and pulled up the diverter, rinsing the soap from Tim’s form.

He prodded Tim until he tilted his head back and ran the water through his long strands, wetting them thoroughly.

“We’re going to need to cut your hair soon,” Jason murmured.

“Yeah,” Tim agreed. “It’s getting too long. Keeps getting in the way.”

“I could shave it,” Jason said with a smile. “Give you a nice buzzed look so you don’t have to worry about it growing out too quickly.”

Tim’s lips twisted into a grimace. “If you do that, I’ll look like a cancer patient.”

“We’ll just give you a lot of beanies to wear so you don’t have to worry about people staring at your head.”

“I think I’ve got plenty in my closet. Wait-” he said, jolting up.

Jason’s hands immediately went to his shoulders to steady him and his weak muscles. “Woah, calm down. What is it?”

“What happened to all of my stuff?” Tim asked, looking up at him. “I had an entire apartment with clothes and furniture and, shit, food in there.”

“Nothing to worry about,” Jason said, pushing him to relax. “We cleaned out the fridge within a week of you falling into the coma and Bruce has paid rent on your place. Alfred even went by once a month to clean. Everything’s still there so no need to panic.”

Tim let out a long breath and closed his eyes. “Good. I guess I shouldn’t be so concerned over material things, but-”

“Hey,” Jason said, voice gentle as he washed Tim’s hair. “It’s understandable. That was your place and you had a life there, but it’s nothing you can’t go back to. Your neighbors might just be a little surprised to see you around again.”

“Yeah…” Tim said and let Jason continue in silence.

~~

Jason fidgeted outside of Tim’s bedroom. He’d long since moved out of the Cave now that he was getting stronger. He was getting better at walking but any long distances he needed to cover were still done in a wheelchair. Jason was beyond proud of the progress he’d been making and even though Tim still had his bad days, he was happier about his current state now that he could move around just a little more easily.

Jason raised his hand and rapped on Tim’s door.

“Come in,” Tim called.

Jason let out a heavy breath and wrapped long fingers around the doorknob before he turned it and pushed inside. “Hey.”

Tim looked up from where he was lying in bed, his laptop in his lap. He smiled. “Hey. What’s up? You didn’t come to pull me away from my work, did you?”

Jason rolled his eyes, feeling some of his anxiety and worry ease. “Of course not. Normally I’d be all too happy to pull you away from the computer but you’re intent on getting caught up with your college classes and I can’t really blame you for that.”

“Good,” Tim said. “Although I might be persuaded to put it away if Alfred’s cookies are involved.”

“Good to now,” Jason said, trailing off as he fought to get the words out for what he’d really come to ask.

“Is something wrong?” Tim asked, eyes raking over him intensely.

“I…I just wanted to ask you something,” he mumbled.

Tim straightened and closed the lid of his laptop, setting it to the side as he gave Jason his attention. “Sure, what’s up?”

“I know this might seem a little sudden or weird, but I was kind of hoping that…I mean you know we’ve been getting closer to each other since you woke up and we definitely don’t have the same hostility as we did before, but that doesn’t mean you want the same things I want and-“

“Jason,” Tim said, gentle smile pulling the corners of his lips upwards. “Just ask the question.”

“Would go out? I mean, would you go out? With me? On a date?” He cringed after getting the last question out, hating that he couldn’t do this eloquently.

Tim stared at him, blinking rapidly as he fought to process the question Jason had asked. “What?” he blurted.

“I’d like to go out on a date with you,” Jason clarified.

“But why?”

Jason frowned. “What do you mean why?”

“Why would you want to go out with me? I can barely walk. I look ill. Where are we going to go where I’m not going to be stared at like I’m some zoo animal?”

“You’re getting better and looking healthier every day,” Jason said, frowning as his defenses rose over Tim. “And no other person in the world has any right to know what’s going on in your life or why you look the way you do. They’re assholes and you have every right to go out into Gotham and live your life. Just because they don’t understand or aren’t smart enough to comprehend that it’s none of their business, doesn’t mean you should shut yourself away so they don’t have to see you at all.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question,” Tim huffed. “Where are we going to go when I can barely walk?”

Jason closed the distance between them, bracing his hands on the edge of Tim’s bed. “You just leave that to me,” he said. “I just need to know whether you’d like to go out with me or not.”

Tim stared at him, eyes flitting around his face. “I-” he cut himself off and pursed his lips. “Okay,” he agreed. “Yes, I’d like to go out with you.”

Jason smiled, his heartrate taking off in his chest, even if Tim reluctantly agreed because of his current situation. He knew Tim wanted to go with him. He wouldn’t have agreed if he didn’t. But they were going on a date. And that was something Jason had been wanting for a while. Ever since Tim woke up.

“Great,” he said, straightening. “I’ll get everything setup. Does Friday night work for you?”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “My schedule isn’t exactly filled with demanding people, Jason.”

Jason shrugged. “Just want to make sure. You could easily have a chunk of time on Friday reserved specifically for you.”

Tim smiled, expression fond. “No Jason, I don’t have any time scheduled for me on Friday and I’m good to go on our date whenever you get it planned.”

Jason nodded. “Good. Now, I have some planning to do and I’m sure you’d like to get back to your schoolwork.”

“Bye Jason,” Tim sang, already reaching for his laptop.

Jason closed the door behind him and took a handful of steps before he sagged against the wall, butterflies swarming inside him as giddiness wrapped his heart in soft velvet.

~~

“Okay, are you ready?” Jason asked, rolling Tim’s chair to the back door of the Manor.

“Yes, Jason,” Tim huffed, fingers itching to pull the blindfold from his eyes to see what Jason was planning.

“Here we go,” Jason breathed, sliding the blindfold off Tim’s eyes.

Tim stared through the open back door of the Manor at the small table under the white canopy that had been erected. A pair of candles rested on the white tablecloth and two place settings were waiting for them, one with a chair and one without.

“You did all of this?” Tim asked, looking up at him.

Jason nodded. “You were nervous about going out in public and I thought the best thing to do would be to have a nice dinner in the backyard. And I don’t think any restaurant could’ve been better than Alfred’s cooking.”

Tim smiled, his eyelids drooping as he got a dreamy, faraway look in his eyes. “It’s beautiful,” he murmured.

“Even more beautiful up close and with food,” Jason said, rolling the chair down the ramp that lead from the back porch to the lawn below.

He positioned Tim in front of the open side of the table and took a minute to fill their glasses from the pitcher of water resting between their plates.

“I wanted to bring wine, but Alfred wouldn’t let me,” Jason said, taking the seat across from Tim.

Tim smiled. “Was it because of my lack of body mass or because I’m underage by a year?”

“Strangely enough it was because of your lack of body mass. I think he’s worried I’m going to get you super drunk and take advantage of your virtue.”

Tim chuckled and took a sip from his glass. “Anyone who knows you, knows that you’d be the last person to take advantage of anyone’s virtue.”

“I resent that,” Jason scoffed even as he smiled.

“You shouldn’t,” Tim said, leaning back in his chair. “You’re a good guy and anyone would be lucky to know you.”

Jason cleared his throat and fought down the rush of blood to his cheeks.

“So,” Tim said. “What are we having for dinner?”

Jason shrugged. “I let Alfred decide. I didn’t want to put too much pressure on him since I’m sure he’s going to have very strong opinions about what you should be eating.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “At this rate, I’m not going to get anything but soup.”

“Don’t be so sure, Master Timothy,” Alfred said, striding across the lawn with two covered trays. “I wouldn’t restrict your diet on such an important and fun evening.”

He set the trays in front of them and lifted the lids to reveal a small side salad and a plate filled with mashed potatoes, grilled asparagus, a small slice of roasted chicken with a light gravy, and a small, single-serving chocolate cake.

“Enjoy,” Alfred said, bowing slightly before he made his exit with the tray lids.

“Wow,” Tim breathed. He snatched up his fork and dug into the mashed potatoes, shoving a bite into his mouth. His eyes slid shut and he whimpered. “These are delicious.”

Jason ducked his head to hide his smile. “I’m glad you like it.” He ate his own food slower than Tim did. They didn’t talk much but Jason was more than happy to listen to Tim enjoy his own food after being stuck on broth and light meals for so long.

“Jason?” Tim asked.

He glanced up and found Tim staring at his chocolate cake with a wistful smile on his face.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Thank you. For all of this. It really means a lot to me that you did this,” he murmured, raising his gaze to meet Jason’s.

“I’d do anything for you,” Jason admitted, voice soft and quiet between them as the sky turned pink over their heads.

~~

Jason’s voice was soft in the muted light of Tim’s room. They’d pulled the curtains shut to block out the sunlight and turned on the lamp sitting on Tim’s bedside table. He was slowly making his way through the Harry Potter books they’d decided to pick up on impulse and Jason had insisted on reading to him.

Jason loved getting to read to Tim. He loved books and reading in general, but it helped Tim relax and pulled him away from his homework that he was quickly working through. It was a miracle he wasn’t trying to get caught up with W.E too, or he’d be working himself to the bone and would be ten times as exhausted as physical therapy left him on some days.

Tim sighed and Jason glanced down at him, finding his head resting on his shoulder. The words died in his throat and Tim looked up at him, question evident in his gaze that he didn’t want him to stop reading.

Time froze between them. Jason let the book fall against his thighs and glanced down at Tim’s lips, watching as Tim’s tongue darted out to wet them. He dragged his gaze up to meet Tim’s eyes and found something shining in them that he was sure he’d seen before, but Tim had quickly hidden once he’d caught him looking.

Jason ducked his head, unable to resist the pull between them and pressed their lips together.

Tim sighed and pressed against him, his arms wrapping around his shoulders. Jason abandoned his book and wormed his arm behind Tim’s back, pulling him tightly against his side. He tried to be gentle with his thin frame, but couldn’t resist wrapping Tim in a tight hug. Tim was quickly becoming stronger and more well-defined now that he was building up muscle again and Jason found that he was losing reasons to keep Tim at a distance.

Tim pulled back, smile pulling his lips wide as he snuggled against Jason’s side. Jason pressed one last kiss to the top of his head and grabbed his book, balancing it with one hand on his legs as he continued to read, his other arm still wrapped around Tim’s back.

~~

“Alright Master Timothy. When you’re ready,” Alfred said, hands hovering around Tim’s form.

Jason kept his distance, letting Tim balance on his feet next to the hospital bed. He could see the anxiety and worry in Tim’s eyes at walking longer distances without the help of a cane or crutches. But there was hope there, too, even if it was dim. Jason knew Tim was trying to force it back, trying not to get his hopes up and expect too much.

Any form of setback had been hard enough for him when he first started physical therapy. Now, if he wasn’t able to walk on his own when he’d been hoping to do that for so long would only end with Tim shutting himself away in his room for the rest of the day. Jason knew there was nothing he’d be able to do to pull Tim from the depression that would send him into.

Tim sucked in a deep breath before he moved one foot forward. He shifted his weight, testing it to make sure his leg would hold before he completely came off his back leg. His gaze stayed focused on the ground as he walked and with each step he took, he was more certain in his movements even if progress was slow.

Jason spotted the tears forming in the corners of Tim’s eyes before he sniffed. He paused when he was halfway across the floor and Jason gripped his biceps where his arms were crossed, thinking Tim had made it as far as he could.

“Master Timothy?” Alfred asked.

Tim shook his head and took another shaky breath. He raised his gaze and met Jason’s eyes. He took another step forward and Jason spread his arms, waiting for Tim to meet him.

Tim’s smile grew as he continued to close the distance between them. It was a shaky smile and tears slid down his cheeks, but he’d finally shown himself that he was getting back to where he needed to be.

Jason was tempted to sweep Tim up into his arms once he was within reach, but he let Tim come to him and wrap his arms around his shoulders, closing the last inches between them just because he could.

“I’m so proud of you,” Jason murmured into his hair as Tim trembled against him.

“Thank you,” Tim breathed. “Thank you so much.”

“Of course. Think you can make it back?”

Tim’s laugh was wet and heavy. “I wish, but I’m not sure my legs can hold up for another trip.”

Jason nodded and looked up at Alfred. “I think he’ll still need crutches to get back.”

Alfred smiled. “Not to worry, Master Jason. That was already excellent progress.”

~~

“I’m getting really tired of these crutches,” Tim grumbled as he wrestled them out of the car.

“I know, but before you know it, you can chuck them across the yard or light them on fire and you never have to use them again,” Jason said, easing Tim out of the car so he could get them under his armpits.

He grabbed their bag and beach towels and braced the large umbrella against his side as he shut the trunk and locked the car. The sun was shining brightly over their heads and even if Tim couldn’t exactly frolic through the sand, Jason was happy to have brought Tim to the beach and gotten him out of the house.

Tim carefully moved from the paved parking lot to the sand, the transition to less firm ground awkward for his untrained muscles and unsteady as the crutches shifted unexpectedly.

Jason didn’t force him to walk too far before he set the bag down and got to work setting up the umbrella to block them from the sun. Tim tossed his crutches to the side and stood in one spot as he rolled out the towels next to each other.

Jason helped him sit down and stretch out his legs before he took the towel next to him. He could see people giving them curious glances, but he fought to ignore them and would keep Tim’s attention away from them as long as he could.

Tim sighed and tilted his head back, inhaling the salty smell of the ocean as a breeze blew in from the water.

“Thank you,” Tim said, turning to look at him.

“For what?” Jason asked, smile tugging at his lips as he pulled out the bottle of sunscreen and poured some into his hand.

“For bringing me here. I hadn’t even realized how much I missed being outside. It’s been so long since I’ve been away from the house.”

Jason paused in rubbing the lotion into his skin. He glanced at Tim who looked peaceful and happy despite the work that he still needed to do to get back to full strength. He finished rubbing the sunscreen over his skin quickly and rolled onto his knees, shifting closer to Tim.

“Tim,” he prodded.

Tim looked at him, grin pulling at his lips. Jason never would’ve expected Tim to look at him with that kind of care in his life, but he was glad he got the chance to see it and was the reason for it being there.

Jason ducked his head and pressed their lips together. Tim tangled his fingers in Jason’s hair and kept him pressed closed, content to stay together under the umbrella.

“You want some ice cream?” Jason asked, pulling back.

Tim chuckled. “Maybe later. I’d like to just sit here and enjoy this. And I should probably put on some sunscreen first,” he said, snatching the bottle from Jason’s towel as Jason stretched out on his back. “I don’t need to add sunburn or skin cancer to my list of medical problems.”

Jason hummed and tucked his hands under his head, content to lie next to Tim and listen to the waves crash and the laughter of the other beachgoers as the breeze blew over them.

~~

Tim giggled as Jason set him down at the edge of the waves. They’d left the crutches back with their things and as much as Tim wanted to walk on his own, Jason didn’t want him to exhaust himself before he could even enjoy the ocean.

Tim gripped his hand and tangled their fingers together. “Jason?”

Jason squeezed his hand. “What is it?”

“Do you think I’ll ever be able to fight again?”

Jason huffed and pressed a kiss to the side of Tim’s head. They’d had this conversation more times than he could count, and he always had the same answer.

“I know you can. You’re strong and you’ll be back in fighting shape before you know it.”

Tim sighed and wiggled his toes in the sand as the waves crashed around his ankles. “I hope you’re right,” he murmured.

“Of course I am. Just trust me, okay?”

Tim looked up at him, eyes gleaming. He nodded and Jason pulled him a little further into the water, letting him experience the world through all of his senses once again.

~~

Tim gasped for breath as he fought to finish another pushup.

“Last one, Tim,” Jason said, kneeling at his side.

Tim managed to straighten his arms before his knees hit the mat and he fought to catch his breath, sweat dripping from his nose and chin.

“Good, good. You’re getting stronger.”

Tim flashed him a tired smile before he sat back on his heels and grimaced, wiping the sweat from his face.

“That’s it for the strength training today. Come on, let’s stretch out your muscles and then we can do some laps around the track.”

Tim nodded and pushed himself to shaky feet as he started to stretch out his tired muscles. Feeling like a limp noodle was never the best feeling in the world but he knew he was getting stronger and that made it worth it.

And watching Tim go through training to get back to where he wanted to be was astounding and he wished everyone knew how dedicated and strong Tim was.

Tim was everything Jason wasn’t and Jason felt like the luckiest guy in the world since he got to spend his life with him and watch him grow and love him for all he was worth.

~~

Jason ducked under the reach of Tim’s arm as he threw another punch at him. He tapped Tim’s ribs twice before putting space between them. Tim’s movements weren’t any less precise than they’d been when he was at his full strength, but he still tired more easily.

“Come on, Tim. Is that the best you’ve got?” Jason taunted, bouncing from foot to foot.

Tim grit his lips and rushed towards him, intent on getting the next hit in. Jason evaded, keeping distance between them as Tim chased him around the mat. They’d been building up to this for months now.

Tim had been eager to get back on the mats and spar and Jason had wanted to make sure he wasn’t at risk of injury before they started fighting. He knew Tim wouldn’t hold back even if Jason pulled his punches and he didn’t need to injure himself and go through even more physical therapy. Jason wasn’t sure if he’d be able to handle that. Not now. Not when he was so close.

Tim swung out his leg to kick him in the side and Jason caught it before the blow could hit his side. He used the hold to flip Tim onto his stomach.

“Oof,” Tim said as all the air rushed from his lungs. He stayed there, taking in deep breaths as Jason released his leg.

“How are you feeling?” Jason asked, dropping down next to him.

Tim rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, a faraway look in his eyes.

Jason sighed when he saw the moisture gathering in the corners. “Tim…”

Tim shook his head and smiled, pushing himself into a sitting position. “It’s nothing, I swear. Just…thank you for this. Thank you for helping me and being there and doing everything when you didn’t owe me anything. I never thought I’d get back to this point again. Not after the year I spent in a coma. It means a lot to me. Everything you’ve done and continue to do. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to make it up to you.”

Jason wrapped his fingers around the back of Tim’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss. “I want you to have everything you want and need. And you don’t need to make it up to me. I did all of this because I wanted to. I did all of this because I love you, Tim.”

Tears slid down Tim’s cheeks and he ducked his head, fighting to keep his breathing steady. “I love you, too, Jason,” he whispered.

Jason smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of Tim’s head. “Why don’t you come patrolling with me next week? We’ll stay away from the heavy hitters, but I think you could handle some muggings or break-ins.”

Tim’s head snapped up and he looked at him with wide eyes. Jason wheezed when Tim’s arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him into a crushing hug.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he murmured into his neck.

Jason chuckled and wrapped his arms around Tim’s waist, pulling him flush against his body. “Anything for you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to Tim’s temple.

~~

Tim landed on the rooftop, breathing heavy and limbs shaking with energy and adrenaline. The robber they’d caught was tied up in the alley below and Jason had already sent the call to the GCPD.

“You okay?” Jason asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. His suit was lose on his thin frame, but Jason knew it wouldn’t be long before Tim made up his lost muscle mass and was back where he used to be.

Tim stared out over Gotham and took a deep breath of the polluted and tainted air, once again realizing just how much he’d been missing during the year he’d been stuck in his own head. The fake Gotham he’d lived in hadn’t had the same familiarity. It hadn’t been home. And he hadn’t had one of the most important things in his life. He hadn’t had Jason.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for everything, Jason.”

Jason squeezed Tim’s shoulder, knowing just how much emotion he was holding back. He might not be able to keep it hidden the rest of the night and knew Tim would probably need someone to hold him once they got back from patrol and the full force of what he’d done hit him.

But for now, they had more minor criminals they could stop, and Jason was going to help keep Tim going for as long as he could. He smiled and pulled Tim across the rooftop to the edge. They looked at the street below and listened to the police sirens in the distance as they hurtled towards their location for the gift-wrapped criminals.

Jason took a deep breath and wrapped an arm around Tim’s waist. He shot his grapple and they jumped, continuing their run across Gotham’s rooftops.

 If you enjoy my work, please reblog or consider buying me a ko-fi!

[ambivalentangst]

Maybe Next Time

I’m so pleased to finally present my @voltronsecretsanta2k18 gift for @langstexmachina, who requested a klance soulmate au! Featuring Keith/Lance working at varying retail chains for the aesthetic, reincarnation, and a whole lot of dumbassery—I hope you like it!

Lance moseys on down his aisle, shoulders hunched because he still has his vest on from work. He has to run errands and forgot to ditch it in the car after getting off, so not only is Lance slinking through a public area in something entirely not-flattering, he’s slinking around Target in his Walmart uniform.

Lance at least thanks his lucky stars that blue is his color, and furthermore, that he’s just picking up a few odds and ends. However, his eyes, mismatched and not entirely his own, are burning. Lance sighs, setting his eggs next to his shaving cream. He must’ve gotten something in them, and he rubs at it as he waits for the cashier to finish up with the person in front of him. He’s not a very chatty guy, granted, but Lance isn’t looking for a conversationalist as much as quick service.

Really, he can’t believe himself. He hopes the workers aren’t too peeved. Lance knows he’d already have complained to Pidge about it multiple times if it happened to him.

Lance hears his cashier move the stick thingy dividing his stuff from the next person’s, but he has to tamp down his embarrassment to make eye contact. After a second, he looks up and smiles. Lance knows exactly how much crabby customers suck and doesn’t intend to be one himself, even if he is currently dressed as a disgrace.

His cashier doesn’t return the action, reaching for the eggs. Lance spares a moment to read his name tag, inverted though it is.

Keith.

Lance looks the rest of him up and down while he struggles to find the barcode and decides that Keith is simultaneously very, very cute and hot as hell. Unfortunately, looks don’t help him out much, and he’s growing irritated by the sounds of his sighing. Lance wouldn’t normally interfere, but it’s kind of taking a long time. Besides, how else is going to get his number if they don’t start talking?

“Uh, I think it’s over here—”

Lance goes to point as Keith’s head snaps up, dark eyebrows furrowed.

The words die on his lips, his gaze locking on the color of the eyes staring back at him. It’s all Lance can focus on, the blue and grey that borders on amethyst, expanding until Target and the conveyor belt blurs into grassy fields, a looming palace, and rolling waves all at once.

Lance smells rain, smoke, soap—crisp and clear like any other memory could never hope to replicate. On his tongue is roast duck, homemade bread, and berries he’s never tasted before. It’s like he’s living it, though Lance has never spent a week outside some city or another and therefore never had the opportunity to experience any of the assault on his senses crashing through his mind. Keith’s smile appears before him, and Lance knows instinctively that he’s the one who put it on his gorgeous face, no less beautiful through the eons it’s kept popping up.

A thousand realities—lives—flash through Lance’s mind, tales of princes and servants, warriors in battle appearing and streaking past at a breakneck speed that he can barely keep up with.

Lance sees himself whisper a thousand I love yous, share a million more barely-there touches that meant so much more to him—to them—than what met the eye. There are goodbyes, tears drying on each of their faces, but more often than not, they manage.

Coming back to himself to stare at a very unsettled Target employee, he has the visions to remind him why that makes him so ridiculously happy. Keith has a white-knuckled grip on the eggs he’s supposed to be bagging, and Lance jumps as he hears a crack from within the container.

“Dude,” Lance whispers because hot damn.

“What the hell?” Keith—his soulmate, Keith—growls, slamming the eggs down onto the scanner. Lance hears the sound of more eggs breaking and is granted a vision of them from ages ago, helping hands on a farm to bring in money for their families. Keith has a habit of being rough with products. Lance realizes it probably isn’t the thing to be noticing right now, but as Keith leans over the belt dividing them, his shirt stretches and it’s obvious that he’s, like, built. “What are you doing?”

Lance takes a step back, hands raised defensively. “What, you think I’m responsible for that whole hallucination mumbo-jumbo? You’re half of the problem, mister.” Lance’s finger points aggressively at his face, showcasing the evidence there to prove his point.

“Why are you in my line?”

Their voices are raising, drawing attention. Other customers are starting to leave Keith’s lane, eyes wide as they run from the disaster unfolding before their eyes.

Lance stares at him incredulously. “Because I wanted, like, three things, dude. Cool it!”

“I am your soulmate, not a dude.”

“Well forgive me if I’m not sure what to call the guy I met a grand total of three seconds ago, who I then shared some kind of flashback, montage-y thing with. Why are you yelling at me about this?”

“I’m not yelling!” Keith yells.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lance sees somebody fast approaching, a blur of red and khaki. That does very little to slow his roll, getting up close to the person the universe decided he was fated to be with in multiple lifetimes. “You know, I originally wasn’t sure about why I shoved you into the River Thames, but I’m starting to get it.”

The visions might’ve been rose-colored, but there was a lot of questionable courses of action thrown into their relationships thrown over the years.

“I cannot believe I am stuck—”

“Is everything alright here?” a new voice interjects—Shiro, the manager.

Both Keith and Lance spin to face the interrupter, mismatched eyes flashing dangerously. “We’re fine,” they seethe, twisting back around to face each other just as soon as the words are spat out.

Lance glares at Keith, hating himself for lingering on the image of his flushed cheeks, which kinda’ make his rat’s nest of a hairstyle work. Unbeknownst to Lance, Keith struggles to cope with the freckles dotting his bronzed skin.

There is a long, drawn-out pause between the two of them. Lance cracks first. “You know, blue doesn’t look half bad on you.”

Keith fights down a blush. It isn’t even that great of a compliment, he’s just weak. His awareness of the matter pisses him off a little bit, he isn’t going to lie. Rather than letting himself get worked up again, he raises a brow in disbelief. “Really?”

Lance nods, looking a little offended that Keith would question his judgement. “Yeah, really. Your eyes and brows are really striking —you’re welcome for that by the way, that’s half me—which works good as the focal point of your face.”

Keith tries harder not to let his cheeks go pink.

While he’s trying to think of what to say, Lance seizes his opportunity. It’s probably destiny, really, that Lance wanted to land a date with Keith from the first moment he saw him. “Your shirt though, that really completes the look. Course, it’s made of the good stuff.”

Keith’s pretty baffled. The piece of clothing that Lance is going on about is a red tee that he picked up from Michael’s on his first day because all of his clothes were black. He goes to find the tag, trying to figure out what it is that’s drawn Lance’s eye. In retrospect, he really did leave himself open.

Lance’s shit-eating grin is sharp as a knife as he delivers his punch-line. “Boyfriend material. Speaking of which, are you free tonight?”

Keith blinks.

At the end of the lane, Shiro snickers into his hand. Keith guesses that he’s probably used the same one on Adam before, the idiot.

Keith’s face is stony. “No,” he tells him frankly. “Not for that line. I work again tomorrow. Seven to five. Try again. Shiro,” he fixes him with a glare, “I’m going on break.”

Keith marches off, and Lance watches him go. If it were anyone else, he’d be crestfallen. As is, he’s smitten. His grin softens but doesn’t fade in the slightest.

Shiro watches the two morons go their separate ways and, knowing Lance will be back the next day, decides not to tell him he forgot his groceries.

[mariomandzho]

GOING BALLROOM DANCING WITH LUKA MODRIC luka modric + you. 

p.s. spot the PEPPER

The dance studio was, in some ways, like a hidden gem, nestled inside a building you passed by nearly everyday on your way to work and yet never noticed before now. It loomed against the downtown cityscape impressively, over nineteen stories of shiny steel and acres of glass strung together glinting in the sun. You clenched your fists expectantly and looked over to your boyfriend, Luka, a pair of Ray-Bans perched on his nose and his golden hair tousled in disorderly perfection.

You’d always wanted to learn how to ballroom dance. When you were eighteen, you rejected the idea of a debutante ball – citing that it pushed women’s rights back fifty years – but now that you were older you began to develop an interest, perhaps even a fascination, for the art. After your co-worker bragged about her session of couple’s classes, where her idiot boyfriend stunned the entire room with his skills, you decided to bring it up to your boyfriend over dinner.

“I didn’t think you cared about things like that,” Luka said honestly over a plate of leftovers. He glanced at you briefly, “Pass the pepper, sweetheart?”

“I was as surprised as you are! But I think it could be fun,” you suggested, pointing your chopsticks at him, “and it’s a bonding opportunity. And, I’d very much like to tell Elizabeth from PR to shove it next time she brings up her boyfriend’s ‘natural born talent’.”

“Ah, so that’s why.” He considered your words thoughtfully, visibly resigning to the idea so long as you wanted to try it. “It could be fun. Aside from the snobby instructors and the ten other couples who’ll get divorced because of it, sure. Pepper, please?”

Next Friday, you two were standing in front of the dance studio, hands linked. Luka wrapped his arm around you as you entered the building, the A.C. cool against your skin and the scent of citrus and freshly polished wood floors invading your senses. You introduced yourself to the receptionist and she directed you toward the elevators, all the while her eyes closely following Luka’s movements. You narrowed your gaze at her as you stepped inside.

The doors pried open and you nuzzled your nose against Luka’s shoulder, inhaling his minty, musk fragrance. “Do you promise not to step on my toes?” He asked wearily, glancing down at you. Short as Luka was compared to his friends, he was still taller than you–and this gave him an advantage in kissing you between your eyes. Suddenly, all the tension building up in your body bled away and you deflated in his arms.

Your nose scrunched up as you retorted, “you and I both know I can’t make that promise. Would you like me to lie to you?”

There were four other couples enrolled in the class, two of them older than you and two of them younger. The instructor, Diana, was incredibly nice, but somewhat impatient as she ticked off a number of tasks and expected each couple to dance to her rhythm within an instant. You, and your two left feet, found it near impossible to follow along. Even the gay couple seemed to be doing better off than you and Luka, who was awkwardly shuffling by himself as you attempted to find your footing fruitlessly.

Diana glanced over at the struggling pair and canted her head sympathetically. “Why don’t you put your hands on [Y/N]’s waist, Luka, and guide her? Like this,” she counted off her steps and then gestured toward him to replicate it.

He nodded politely to the instructor’s suggestion and moved toward you, placing his hands on your waist. You released a quiet breath as his fingertips enveloped your rib cage, pressing warmly into your spine and brushing softly against your camisole – sending a flurry of butterflies across your skin. “Just follow my footsteps,” he murmured soothingly, a look of concentration crossing his features. He slinked to the left, and you jerked toward the right. He paced backward half a step, and you stepped forward four – colliding into his chest with an audible thump and a mortifying ‘oof.’

“It’s all in the subtlety,” Diana counseled, “think of Luka as a forbidden fruit. Something you want and need to touch desperately, but can’t get close enough to. It’s also generally a good rule of thumb to keep at least one foot on the ground, [Y/N], to avoid unwanted injury.”

You stifled the mounting urge to roll your eyes and began to follow Luka’s lead once more. He tugged gently at your waist to guide you in the right direction, occasionally keeping you in place and sidestepping your foot as it threatened to stomp on his.

You sighed in irritation and promptly marched away, as if you had been burned. With your hands perched on your hips, you regarded Luka with a cool stare that he’d often said ‘burned holes in his head.’ “This is torture.”

Luka bided a moment of thought before offering you his hand, “close your eyes.”

You blinked up at him incredulously. “What?”

“I promise I have a plan. Close your eyes and let me guide you. C’mere.”

Hesitantly, you stepped into his arms and your eyes fluttered close; deciding to trust him against all reasonable doubt. His hands found yours in the darkness and your fingertips instinctively laced together, fitting together seamlessly like pieces of a puzzle.

He moved gracefully across the dance floor, pulling you along with him, every movement of his fluid and elegant. You merely followed in his steps, as the moon follows the sun, and he whispered his next motion to you in advance, allowing you to keep up. He chuckled when your nose screwed up and your eyelids clenched shut, reflecting the strenuous concentration brewing within. In the back of the room, an instrumental version of a Michael Buble song crooned softly, and yet the only sound you could hear was the strident beating of his heart.

“This isn’t as bad as I thought,” you admitted, your eyelids prying open,  “I’d almost think you had…”

Lukita skillfully averted his gaze from you, smiling toward another couple that flitted toward you. He spun you away at exactly the right moment and watched with a glint in his eyes as you twirled back to him.

“Luka?” He remained silent, “Luka.”

“Ow, [Y/N], that was my toe!”

“Have you had lessons before? I thought you couldn’t dance!”

His muscles rippled beneath your palms and his jaw shifted nervously. “You would be right there. I can’t, not unless it’s ballroom dancing.” Luka’s grip, once protective, was now possessive. You could see his back in the mirror that spanned an entire wall, and watched as the other couples that fluttered around you faded away. “I used to when I was a child – it was my mother’s idea, not mine. Twice a week, and Miss. Ostojić would tell on us if we didn’t behave or practice. Most of it is muscle memory now.”

Your face twisted in realization. His answer surprised you, but the more you considered it, did it really? The word ‘elegant’ in soccer was reserved for a special few and Luka Modric was one of them. His technique, grace, and poise had all earned him a nomination for the Ballon D’or, so you weren’t really surprised that he was already skilled.

In fact, it all made sense now–he was actually quite good at it.

“You already knew how? You only joined the class for me?” Your words trembled as you glanced up at him, a kernel of hope blossoming within your chest.

The silence that descended upon him was telling and it pierced at your heart. Lifting upon your toes, you grazed your mouth against his and in response he pulled you impossibly closer, hands sliding down to your waist as your body moulded against his. “I love you,” you breathed against his lips, begrudgingly drawing away from him to avoid any disdainful glares. “Thank you for doing this.”

“Anything for you, [Y/N]. You’re my girl.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Now, come on. We have to show the rest of these couples off, don’t we? I had no idea you were my secret weapon after all.” You drummed your fingers against his chest teasingly, your hands sliding down his arms before tugging at his wrists. Fingertips weaving together, you pulled him toward you and stepped in front of him like before.

Batting your eyelashes against him, a facade of innocence casted across your features. “Do you still think you could teach me?”

“I don’t know,” Luka purred, his teeth gliding against his bottom lip, “you might be beyond my help.”

You jutted your bottom lip out, lifting his arm so that you could twirl under it and rest your back against his chest. “You love me. Clumsiness and all.”

“I love you, because and in spite of your clumsiness,” he declared, leaning down so that he could whisper gruffly in your ear, “You know, we never discussed my payment for doing this.”

“We didn’t?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I could’ve sworn we did.”

“I beg to differ,” he pointed.

“Hmm… I’m sure we can think of something, yes?”

Without satisfying your question, Luka suddenly spun you on your heel, causing you to shriek, sporting the biggest smile you’d ever seen when you whirled back around. “Quit trying to seduce your instructor, [Y/N], and follow instructions. Follow my footsteps, and, please, try not to crush my toes this time.”

You barely had enough time to protest before he was tugging you into his arms again and whisking you left and right.

@moremodric, @zadarskabagudina, @pachua, @tinymodric, @luka-moredick, @vatreniworld + please let me know if you’d like to be added or deleted from the tags!

[gingersaremytype]

Busted - Peter Parker x Reader

Masterlist

Prompt List

Peter Parker x Reader

Reader and Peter have a secret relationship hidden from all the Avengers including her Dad, Tony Stark, but then suspicion grows among the team.

Word Count - 2.3k

You had met Peter when he first came to the compound with your Dad, Tony Stark. Seeing as he was the only person around that was your age, the two of you began to hang out a lot whenever he was around. His visits used to be about once a week but as the two of you became closer he would come more often whenever he could get away from school. 

When term time ended and school was finished for the summer, Peter came to the compound. The two of you became practically inseparable, you even trained alongside one another. You were best friends. It didn’t take long for the two of you to catch feelings and after keeping it from each other for ages, the truth finally came out and you became a couple, although no one else knew.

You were playing Mario Kart with Peter one afternoon in the compound. Peter always used to win but now the two of you played so often, you had become just as good as him. It was the final lap and you and Peter were neck and neck.

“Loser sneaks tonight.” Peter said to you, moving his controller as his character turned the corner.

“You’re on.” You replied. 

Peter’s room was two doors down from yours in the compound with Steve’s on one side of the corridor and Nat’s room on the other, in between you guys. Neither Peter or you were the quietest of people so it was always hard to sneak out of your rooms silently. The decision of whose room was usually chosen just like this.

The overall score of the races was 3-3. If you lost this one it meant you had to sneak out tonight. Peter was slightly ahead on the final bend, you could see a smirk tugging at his mouth as he sat beside you. You moved into his slipstream to get a speed boost but just as you did, Pete dropped a shell which hit you, flipping your kart. He crossed the finish line and raised his controller in the air in celebration.

“Woo! Parker 4 and Stark 3!” He turned and looked at you with a wide smile which you couldn’t help but replicate. “Better get your sneaky shoes on, Y/n/n.” He said with a wink.

“Sneaky shoes? What are you two up to?” You turned around to see Steve with his arms crossed and eyebrow raised. He had just walked into the room.

“Oh… Uh… Nothing we… Um… Just-” Peter stuttered terribly, a red hue becoming apparent on his cheeks.

“For the next round.” You finished for him. “Sneak attack.” You smiled, knowing Steve had no idea how Mario Kart worked so wouldn’t question further.

“Ah okay, well I’m afraid it will have to wait. Your Dad asked me to come get you for a team meeting. I’ll see you upstairs in 5.” He said with a smile before turning around and walking out.

You looked back at Peter and when you knew Steve was out of earshot you finally let the laugh you’d been holding in come out. Peter laughed with you and then his expression changed and he stared at you thoughtfully.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked, blushing at his intense stare.

He shifted closer on the sofa towards you, “because,” he looked over his shoulder at the door to check no one was there, “you’re so beautiful, Y/n. And I love it when you laugh.” He reached out his hand and traced your jawline with his thumb.

You smiled at him before leaning in and giving him a quick kiss. You pulled away but before you could get up, Peter grabbed your arm.

“Come on, Parker. We don’t want everyone to be waiting for us.” You replied, looking into his chocolatey brown eyes. They were mesmerising.

“Just one more.” He whispered pulling you towards him and kissing you gently. You smiled back at him and he finally stood up and grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the door.

The two of you released your hands as you walked through the compound to the meeting.

When you opened the door, you saw that everyone was already sat down and your Dad was stood arms folded at the front of the room.

“Ah, they decided to turn up. Peter, Y/n, take a seat and we can finally begin.” He stated motioning to the empty chairs.

The chairs were on opposite sides of the room, you took your place between Bruce and Wanda and Peter made his way across the room, sitting between Steve and Bucky.

The meeting seemed to go on for hours. Every so often your eyes would wander across the table to Peter. The two of you locked eye contact and you stuck your tongue out at him. He smiled and returned with a funny face. You quietly chuckled as your cheeks flushed.

When you looked up again, you saw that Steve was staring right at you, his eyebrow raised like earlier. He looked at Nat and Nat looked at you, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips, causing you to squirm slightly in your chair.

You turned your attention back to your Dad and the images he had placed up on the screen. The meeting was a debrief of your previous mission. Tony played a clip of you and Peter taking down a terrorist group. You looked over at Peter and he smiled and winked at you. In the video, nearly all the bad guys were down and you finished off the last one by throwing him to the floor. When all the men were down, you and Peter high-fived and then Peter whispered in your ear before the two of you ran in opposite directions.

You smiled thinking about the words Peter had said.

“Nice move. I might use that one later tonight.”

You had blushed incredibly and rolled your eyes.

You were extremely glad there was no audio with this clip.

You looked back to Peter and you could see him remembering that moment as well, he smiled and bit his lip, he had kept to his word later that night.

After watching a couple more clips, the meeting was dismissed and you all got up and left the meeting room, migrating to the kitchen for dinner.

You and Peter sat next to each other whilst you ate and chatted about random things. Peter had his hand on your thigh under the table. He moved his hand slightly, stroking your leg, causing a tingle to shoot through your body. You sighed quietly. He smiled at your reaction.

After dinner, you went to your room. Peter sat on your bed reading whilst you hopped in the shower.

You washed your hair and body and then turned the water off. You grabbed your towel and stepped into your room, shivering at the quick change of temperature.

Peter looked up from the book and looked you up and down as you stood there in just a towel. He smirked and you rolled your eyes, chuckling at him.

“What are you laughing at?” He asked, getting up from the bed.

“You,” You replied, a large grin on your face.

“You can’t expect to walk out in just a towel and have no reaction,” Peter smirked, walking over to you.

“I would’ve thought you’d be used to it by now.” You raised an eyebrow and smirked at him.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy it…” He replied, slinking his arms around you and pulling you close.

You kept one hand on the top of your towel and put the other on his jaw. He pulled you close and planted his lips on yours. You moved with him, the kiss becoming more intense with every second. Peter moved one of his hands to yours on the towel. You smiled and opened your eyes, staring into his. 

He smirked at you and moved his hand again. Suddenly you heard your door handle click. You jumped apart, quickly speed walking to different sides of the room.

As the door opened, your Dad poked his head in.

“Ah, Peter, there you are. I thought you might be here. Oh, Y/n. You’re in a towel… And Peter is here.” He furrowed his brow and looked at the two of you, “Um, is there something going on?” He asked eyebrows raised.

“No, of course not. I just came out of the shower when Peter knocked on the door asking to borrow one of my books.” You replied to your Dad, looking across at Peter who nodded.

“Yeah.” Peter agreed, smiling awkwardly.

Tony looked between the two of you again.

“Did you need something?” You asked, trying to change the subject.

“Huh?” Your Dad asked, “Oh, yeah, just wanted to have a chat with Spidey about a mission.” He smiled, looking back at Peter.

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Peter smiled, walking over to the door. “See you later, Y/n.” He looks you up and down again and smirks. Tony looked at his watch and Peter saw. “Oh, I mean tomorrow. See you tomorrow, Y/n.” He smiled, a blush rising in his cheeks.

“Yep.” You smiled back, walking over and shutting the door behind them.

You leaned back against the door and smiled. You had no clue how it had been three months and people hadn’t found out about you and Peter. He was so clumsy with his words. You shook your head and walked over to your dresser, changing into a t-shirt and comfy shorts.

It was your turn to swap rooms tonight so you read your book until it got dark. You looked at your phone. It was getting late and the others will have gone to bed by now. You decided it was safe to go to Peter’s room.

You put a marker in your book and put it down beside your bed. You got up and crossed to your door. Quietly moving the handle down you peered your head out to see if anyone was out there. The corridor was clear and Steve and Nat’s doors were both closed. You tiptoed out and clicked your door gently shut.

You tottered slowly down the hall to Peter’s room and when you reached the door you pulled the handle down, trying to be as quiet as possible.

The room was completely dark except for the light by the bed, illuminating his figure. He smiled at you as you stepped in and closed the door.

“Fancy seeing you here.” He whispered, moving across on the bed and making room for you.

You smiled and crept into bed next to him. He laid out his arm and you rolled into him, putting your head on his chest. He slipped his arm around you and kissed the top of your head. Relaxing into him, you realised how tired you were. You breathed deeply as Peter kissed the top of your head again and rubbed your arm softly with his thumb.

“I love you, Y/n,” Peter whispered as he hugged you even tighter.

“I love you too, Peter.” You smiled into him.

His body and his touch filled you with warmth as you nestled deeper into him. He reached an arm out and turned off the light, filling the room with darkness.

Soon enough, the two of you fell asleep tangled up with each other. 

The next morning you woke up to Peter suddenly stiffening and jerking upwards.

“Uh?” You said drowsily, slowly opening your eyes.

Suddenly you stiffened as well as you saw the scene before you.

Steve and Nat stood in front of you with their eyebrows raised and arms folded.

You quickly realised you were still tangled up with Peter and you removed your arms and legs from him.

“What is going on?” You asked, extremely confused about what they were doing in your boyfriend’s room this early in the morning.

“We were just about to ask you the same question.” Steve said with a small smile.

You looked at Peter beside you made a face and without saying anything he knew what you meant.

“Um, well.” He started, looking at the two sets of eyes in front of him, “Y/n’s been my girlfriend for about three months now. But we didn’t tell anyone and it’s been a secret this whole time.” Peter stumbled out, smiling at the fact he could finally show you off as his girlfriend. 

You watched as their jaws dropped slightly. Nat smiled and shook her head.

“I knew there was something up.” She said as she looked at Steve who nodded at her.

“But please, don’t tell my Dad.” You pleaded to the two stood before you.

“We won’t Y/n, but you need to. You can’t keep it a secret forever. He deserves to know.” Steve explained to you.

You slumped into Peter, “Yeah, I know.”

“Um, anyway. This has been a really, um, nice way to wake up but could you guys possibly leave now?” Peter stammered out, clearly a bit embarrassed about the whole situation just like you were.

They smiled before heading out. Just before the door closed, Bucky stuck his head in the door.

“Remember to always use protection kids.” He said with a cheeky wink before leaving the room.

He’d clearly been outside the whole time.

Once the door closed you covered your face with your hands. Peter pulled you into a hug laughing slightly.

“That was so embarrassing.” You laughed into him.

“It felt good. To finally be able to tell everyone you’re my girlfriend.” He smiled sheepishly.

You wrapped your arms around him as he brought his lips to yours.

“Next stop Mr Stark.” Peter chuckled nervously as you smiled up at him.

He kissed you once again before the two of you got up to go find your Dad. You prayed he would take it just as well as the others did.

[maniacalmachinist]

From Ice and Ash (pt 5)

En Route:  Underdark – Instigation

According to Nia’s scouts and rangers, only 2 days left until their little caravan arrived at the Darkfrond Estate; they’d reach the cave entrance before the current day’s end.  It was in this time Jamax slept and meditated, often reflecting on his memory of the tavern outing with Chamelia, and the oncoming Soldiers.

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

Jamax canted his head at the three large tables that were hosting the Thelongar soldiers, two of which seemed to be the loudest, the last appeared quieter . . . their leadership perhaps.  The half-orc waitress wasn’t enjoying herself, looking back at the barkeep who had a look of sympathy as she dealt with the rather rude customers.

“Oh hey, Tusker bitch . . . another refill for my boys.”  He had smacked her on the rear as she walked off . . . there was rage in her eyes, and the Barkeep’s eyes went wide with horror.  The orcan woman gave him a sneer while going to get the next round.

“I don’t understand Chamelia . . . what makes the humans in charge wish to do this?”

Cammi could only groan, “If anything, I wish I had an answer for that . . . has to do with some human-draconian war from who knows how many millennia ago.  Sometimes I wonder if there isn’t some kind of sorcery involved . . . but for all the conspiracies, this one may just be blind, stupid hatred.”  She then blinked, “What the fuck, did you actually call me Chamelia?”

He snorted, downing a drink and about to respond when something bumped him, “Wha-?”

“Now this here, ladies and gents, is what you call an eyesore . . . so out of place it makes me sick.  A couple of Draks thinking they should wear something other than dregs.”

Jamax grumbled, and Chamelia shook her head at him, “Oh, I am so sorry . . . you know how it goes, leave the kingdom, different rules apply . . . some people overstepping themselves . . .”

“And look at this gents . . . a drak so low on the scale of value, even her hide reflects it.”  There was a bit of jeering from the tables . . . it was apparent they wanted a fight, and from the look of the barkeep, he was ready to hunker down.  Jamax stole a glance at the other table, seeming to pass whispers, and what looks like coin purses between each other.  “Look scale-bitch, do you know who I am.”

She pondered a moment, “I’d say with the lack of décor, you’re rather low on the pole, and outside your kingdom, you’re no better than a peasant, and watching your fellows, it seems you’re the one stupid enough to confront your better.”

Jamax snorted, watching the soldier make the motion to draw a sword that wasn’t there, “Not so tough without your steel are you?” he grumbled.

That soldier flung a fist at him, promptly caught by Cammi, who roared at him, opening her maw and exposing a ball of lightening charging.  She promptly snapped her mouth shut, dissipating the electricity, “I will tell you this once . . . and only once.  You have no jurisdiction here, and neither do I . . . so no local guards are going to rescue you, and your friends have, rather intelligently, left your fate in my claws.”  With that, she hauled the dumbass to his seat, just as the orcan returned, grinning tusk to tusk, then acted like she tripped, spilling the entire platter on the fool.  The other soldiers were laughing, and some applauded as if the show was expected.  Cammi then bowed, walking to the silent table, where she was handed one of the money pouches after a rather heated discussion.

“I get the feeling this is common when I’m not around.”  He gulped down the juice, wishing it were a bit stronger.

“Oh, happens every few months when they have some freshscale in their ranks . . . you’d be amazed how much a human wishes to avoid pissing off a dragon, let alone dragonborn . . . and how profitable it is to keep my mouth shut so their superiors don’t lose one of their ranks.”

“You have that much pull here?”

Chamelia laughed, “Me?  Oh no no . . . the barkeep, however, is one of the elders in this village.  The money is either for his repairs, should it come to that, or it’s my tip for keeping the peace.”

Jamax choked a bit, “Ah, my mighty tutor . . . is a fucking bouncer.”

“I wasn’t expecting to this time, which is why I brought you, and dressed a bit nicer . . . “  She looked over herself, “Hmmmm, no stains this time . . . that’s a relief, would hate to be seen like that . . .”

“Uhh, be seen by who?” inquired Jamax, finishing his drink, then Chamelia tossed him the coin pouch.

“Here, go enjoy yourself . . . come back in a few hours.”  Jamax could only shake his head, walking out of the tavern, but not before passing by what looked like another dragonborn; the male having a large yellowish horn jutting from his muzzle, and a distinct underbite to his jaw, coupled with cerulean scales.  He merely nodded at Jamax, then panned his view, letting out a boisterous greeting in Chamelia’s direction . . .

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

“Plans within plans!!”  Jamax shouted as he came to, Nia almost jumping up and about to draw her weapons.

“Fels, Jamax . . . what the Lolth’s name has gotten into you?!?”  She panted, trying to settle back down.

“The raptors . . . it was apparent there were just enough of them to take out the caravan, but they didn’t expect there to be any others.”

“Calm down, young one . . . what makes you think there is something afoot this close to the caverns?”

“Their communication pattern . . . you and yours had come through the same path almost a month ago, and I know raptors well enough that they keep to more central areas in the forests.  Being near a road is akin to a suicide run for them, and they know it.”

“What’s that silverskin rambling about, my Lady?” inquired Har’kon, clearly agitated.

“Hold on a minute . . . stop the caravan!  Jamax, continue, but this had better be good . . . “  The carts halted moments after the cry, and Nia glared at him; her eyes wide with both anger and urgency.

“Their nests stay closer to water and central areas of the forests, where trees or grass are dense so they may ambush.  Their vision may be good in the moonlight, but with all the cover, there’s no such luxury.  They’re also daytime hunters, so for them to attack near a road, at night . . . someone’s pulling their chain.  They were waiting for us, then following until given the attack command.  We’re likely being tracked as we speak.”

Nia darted her gaze to a nearby magi, shouting a command in Elven that sounded like “Ghost Eye” to Jamax.  The mage nodded, and started a chant and joined by another magic user.  An orb developed in front of the lead caster that shifted in swirls of black and blue, sending out pulses of arcane smoke rings from it’s epicenter.  The rings seemed to attach and illuminate the elves and beasts pulling the carts, he then looked at his own hand and saw a faint glow.  He then turned his eyes back to Nia, who was panning her gaze around the forest and road.

“Flying hells . . . Jamax, stay where you are . . . you were right.”  She drew her blades, pointing in a wide arc around the caravan, then shouted something in Elven [ We returned, and we know you track us . . . cowards!], as he understood it.

There came a clapping sound from directly in front of the group, “Well well, Niavel . . . I had hoped this would be when you and yours had let your guard down, would have been more painless I’d think.  Now, you’ll have to be awake for what will happen . . .,” chuckled a drow, stepping forth from the brush, a male by the tone of it, dressed in dark, but elegant clothes that seemed to bend light around itself.  He raised a hand, and snapped his fingers . . . the familiar cries of velociraptors surrounded the carts, along with perhaps half a dozen small, dark-skinned humanoids, all with red eyes and some with thick black beards, carrying axes small and large.  Behind the caravan came three more Drow in similar attire, faces covered, but lacking the effect of shifting light, and leveled their longbows at them.

Jamax could only look around, eyes wide with fear . . . “Your little slave lizard is a bit too observant for my tastes, Niavel . . . but, I’m not above adding another pet to my collection.”

Nia smirked, more of an act of bravado than defiance, “Jharrak Bladefels . . . funny, I would have thought this sort of thing to be beneath your interests.  Guessing one of my cousins has you in their pocket . . . or the bedroom perhaps?  And here I thought you were a noble.”

The velocitaptors slowly slipped out of the foliage, hissing and clicking in their primal “language.”  Jamax looked around, and found a familiar silhouette among their numbers, a large raptor seeming to keep an arm from being presented to dangers.  He grinned ferally with as half-assed plan as he could . . .

“My lady, this humble one requests to handle the beasts as I suspect their alpha is in our presence.  I would hate to dirty your blades on such worthless beasts, and myself.”  Nia looked at him confused, then followed his gaze to the raptors, grinning with a brow raised in concern.

“Mhmmm, please do dear . . . I would hate for your master’s loan to be wasted needlessly on something more important than peons of my enemies.  Beast for beast, it seems.”  She sent him a wink while looking at him, their foe ignorant of her action.

“Loan from his master . . . oh, is he your new bed toy, Niavel?  Have your tastes fallen so low?” he shouted a command in elven and their adversaries began their dance.  Jamax hopped from the cart, jumping in front of the raptor alpha, then replicated the sounds they had made.  He kept his stance wide, glaring and snarling at their leader. The beast seemed to slink back, hissing at the dragonborn; the other raptors stepping back, hesitant to engage something that made their alpha go on the defensive.  He continued to stare them down, barking calls similar to theirs while a struggle waged on behind him,   swearing there was a shrill laughter of Nia amid the fray.  Jamax then hunkered down on all fours, changing his strategy, and jumped just in front of the alpha, repeating the tones that he though would force the beast down.  The alpha made a shrill whine, hunkering down, in what could be considered submission, then Jamax did what he could to order the raptors down rising to his full height while keeping his gaze on the alpha.

“Fucking Lizard, if you’re going to do something, fucking DO IT!!” came the shouts of Har’kon amid the clash of metal.

With his best understanding, Jamax barked out the sounds of the raptors, hoping the beasts would heed it to one degree or another.  He stepped back, maintaining a threatening stance, clawing at the ground with his hind legs, hissing and growling.  With that the raptors slowly got up and backed away, before charging back into the forestry.  

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Jharrak, from his vantage point, witnessed the events unfold, the silver lizard making an obvious fool of itself.  The rangers had gained command of the raptors a while back, their alpha loyal . . . well, obedient, to them alone.  He watched the silver with mild interest, as one did a colony of insects, until seeing the raptors become cowed by the brute.  His solders were on near even terms with Niavel’s troupe, but something appeared amiss with this Draconian slave . . . something was wrong.  He figured it best to let events unfold without his presence as one didn’t become of high station fighting needlessly.

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Jamax waited but barest moments as the raptors fled . . . not quite what he hoped, but figured it best not to push his luck.  He started to make his way to the nearest assassins, one of the “dark dwarves,” prying it off of combat with one of Nia’s cohort, giving the guard enough time to slay the small humanoid with a slash at it’s throat. “Keep at it Lizard . . . you just tipped the tide!” called the guard.  He figured to run with it, engaging one of the Drow, crashing into it, pinning the lanky humanoid to the ground and driving his fists into it’s torso and face.

“Servant!! Don’t overstep yourself . . . we need one alive!” Commanded Nia. Jamax looked at the one before him, still breathing but groaning in pain.  [Well, guess you am luck, friend] he uttered in his broken Elven.  Jamax stood up, planting his foot on the beaten one and keeping that one pinned while Nia’s cohort overwhelmed what was left of the ambush . . .