#i realized too late that you asked for panic attack and not nightmare

[spacebarbarianweird]

Astarion x f!Tav pregnancy headcanons

@treshmind @chillingintheunderdark @azu21 @rachelle-on-the-run

Masterlist

Headcanons

Ok, it turned out to be much longer than I expected. And very angsty

None of you have any idea it was possible to get pregnant

Astarion is a vampire. He definitely "shoots blanks."

The ability to knock someone up was taken away from him along with his life many years ago.

Until one day, you feel weird. Sick, exhausted.

It's not like you pay too much attention to your monthly bleeding (what's the point anyway?"), but you notice it's been a while

And Astarion, after feeding on you, says your blood tastes different. Not bad, not weird. Just different.

And the scent isn't like it was before.

You are terrified you've caught one of these magical sicknesses or curses no one knows how to cure.

You go to the healer, who gives you a herbal drink, saying, "Take this; it's good for the child, and don't bother me until you feel something is off."

And you stay in the healer's hut, shocked, trying to understand what kind of child he is fucking talking about?

Until you realize.

You remember the night half a month ago, when a group of thugs attacked the village where you and Astarion live together.

Astarion returned from the woods drunk with sentient creatures' blood, his eyes glowing red and his skin blazing hot.

He just swept you away from your feet, dragged inside, stripped you of your light armor, and pinned you to the bed until the next sunset.

It was not the first time he was that "blood drunk," - but it was the first time it happened one of the days you could possibly conceive.

It's just a coincidence. The coincidence you carry inside your womb.

You return home, scared and shivering. By the time Astarion notices you are back, you are already crying.

You have no fucking idea how to be a mother. You have no fucking idea how to raise a child. What are you carrying within?

A person? A monstrosity? Your own death?

What creatures are born from vampires?

Astarion is no less shocked.

He pulls away from you, grabbing a fistful of his hair, and swears in Elven.

The healer may be wrong. You can't get pregnant.

And now you feel even more uneasy - what if you were assaulted?Do you have any memory gaps? What if someone used you?

Astarion leaves at sunset, and you stay alone with your fears

He returns in the morning, calm and quiet. Noticing you are still on your feet, he carries you to bed and asks to sleep while he "figures something out."

When you wake up in the late evening, Astarion has a sudden mood change

He is happy. He smiles. He pulls you to himself, placing a hand on your flat belly.

Then you notice a stack of books.

Dhampirs. Children of mortals and vampires. With insanely long lifespans, immunity for vampirism, and living beating hearts.

"You see. That's what we are going to have".

You slowly start adapting to your new condition,

The child grows fast, and your body changes. Breasts get a bit bigger, and you can't wear your light armor anymore (it is suddenly too small). You are constantly tired and hungry.

Even the most innocent teases from Astarion make you cry - and he panics every time it happens.

He has no idea how to handle a pregnant woman.

You quarrel. Constantly. Because you are both scared to death.

What is worse, Astarion has a serious regress. There are nightmares and self-harm tendencies. He runs away to the woods or the Underdark tunnels at least once a week, and you lash at him for leaving you alone every time he gets back.

Besides, it's his fault he didn't stop drinking blood that night

You have nightmares, too.

You envision a monster growing within you that will gnaw through your flesh any time soon.

And yes, women die in childbirth. Even if before that, they'd challenged the fucking gods!

One day, Astarion puts his head on your belly

He caresses it and whispers something in Elven.

"I hear the heartbeat," he says, eyes teary. "I hear our child's heartbeat!"

From that moment, everything changes,

He no longer goes away. He helps you bathe and dress. Brings everything you ask for and ensure you are comfortable sitting and walking. He prepares the place for the child (ignoring a very rational fear that either you or the child dies)

And he sews. He makes the set of clothes for the newborn, embroidering it with protective Elven runes.

Sometimes you both relax enough to discuss the future.

The day of birth comes much earlier than you expect. Almost a month earlier.

The midwife, perfectly knowing the father's nature, pushed Astarion out of the room.

And he spends a few hours helpless and desperate, hearing your cries of pain. If it was the night, he could at least go outside, but, as it happens, it's a sunny day.

He hates himself for doing this to you.

And as for you, you had no idea it could be so painful.

Finally, Astarion has enough and returns to you, kneeling beside the bed

The moment you see him, you grasp his hand as if you are drowning

And then it's all over.

A squeal, desperate and angry, rings out through the room, and you see a newborn in the midwife's hands.

A tiny girl with long pointy ears is placed in your hands. Not a monster. She isn't deformed. Just a baby. Who is very angry with the fact she's been pushed out from the warm womb to this cruel and unpredictable world.

Astarion can't believe what exactly he sees.

He has a child. He has a daughter. The most normal thing anyone can think of is now a reality for him, someone who once had to get out of his own grave.

Then you give the newborn girl to Astarion, and the moment he takes her, he bursts into tears, pressing the child against his chest.

The girl doesn't cry anymore, piercing Astarion with her dark eyes.

You, still tired and in pain, drink the healing potion left by the midwife and you look up at Astarion.

He notices your gaze and kisses you.

"My love, thank you. This is a gift", he whispers through the tears.

--

Tag list:

@tragedybunny @caitlincat-95 @tallymonster @astarionsbeloved @lumienyx @fayeriess @aoirohi @elora-the-slutty-songstress @veillsar @astarion-imagine-archive @micropoe10 @starlight-ipomoea @herstxrgirl @theearthsfinalconfession @ashrio20 @not-so-lost-after-all @vixstarria

[futureman]

love like you

pairing: mike schmidt x gn!reader

summary: mike helps you through a rough patch by reminding you of the many, many reasons he loves you

warnings: established relationship, angst, comfort, mentions of depression, anxiety & panic attacks, self-doubt, intrusive thoughts

word count: 2.1k

"Why do you love me?"

You ask the question so quietly, Mike almost misses it over the movie playing in the background. At first, he's not sure how to respond—or at the very least, where to begin.

You've never asked him that before, and he'd never given it much thought if he's being totally honest. He assumed you hadn't, either. It's just something he feels.

It's something he's always felt, gradually building since the day you led his sister back to him after she'd wandered off in the supermarket. He took one look at you, your kind eyes and patient smile, and asked you on a date without a second thought. That's what it's like to love you—instinctual.

He glances away from the TV and looks down at you curiously. Your head is nestled on his lap, eyes already locked on his and filled with apprehension he can't even begin to understand. There are a thousand and one reasons to love you; don't you realize that? He'd tell you every one if you asked.

He loves you because you're always there, through the late-night shifts and nightmares, helping him parent a child you shouldn't have to be responsible for at such a young age. You confiscate his controller every time he tries to smash it in a fit of rage, beating whatever boss he'd been fighting for hours like a champ. He thinks you're so fucking cool.

And you understand him like no one else ever has, so attentive and always willing to try. You kiss away his fears, strip him bare, unmask him. Allow him to seek shelter inside you, ride him to a mind-numbing release when his darkest thoughts threaten to consume him.

You hold him when he wants to give up, when the weight of the world is too much and persevering is too hard. The familiar, soothing tone of your voice reminds him to breathe, to tune out the little things and remember that there's still good to be found in life.

It's everything you do and everything you are. That's why he loves you.

But before he can say anything at all, your face screws up and your bottom lip begins to tremble. His chest immediately tightens.

"Woah, hey. It's okay," he murmurs, keeping you grounded in the present despite his rising panic. "You're okay."

You're prone to spiraling, but after years together, he knows the best way to mitigate it is to stay calm. Regardless of the raging storm in your head, you're safe with him, warm and dry at home on your couch.

He caresses your cheek, then trails up to scrub at the crinkle in your forehead. "What's going on up there?"

"Nothing. It's—really, it's nothing. I'm sorry, I don't know why I asked you that," you shake your head, averting your gaze elsewhere. But after a moment, your eyes snap back to his, and there's so much pain there, he can almost feel it.

"No, it's...it's everything. My brain won't shut up, and it's mean and loud, and I just—," you pause, clenching your jaw in frustration. "I just don't get it. Of everyone you could've been with, why me? I can't understand why you chose me."

The question feels like a slap in the face. Like he had so many choices and only picked you based on some predetermined criteria of what someone should want in a partner. He didn't just pull your name out of a bowl, either. You chose each other.

He wracks his brain to figure out what he could've said or done to make you believe otherwise, but then remembers this isn't about him. He tries again to explain all of the reasons he wanted to before, to tell you that the unrelenting thoughts ping-ponging in your head are wrong, but you continue on, unraveling before his eyes.

"I'm a shitty person. I'm selfish and useless, and all I do is make everyone around me unhappy. There's always a crisis, I'm always sad. And I always make everything about me," you tell him, getting angrier by the second. "Ugly, worthless, selfish, selfish. I’m a fucking burden. You know, I—I just keep waiting for you to figure it out and leave. To get sick of this...of me."

He listens helplessly as you tear yourself apart, the ache in his chest intensifying the worse your verbal barrage becomes. He knows he can't just reassure away your insecurities or magically heal your trauma, no matter how badly he wants to. But he also can't let this go on any longer.

"Stop," he says softly, cutting you off. Hearing the full extent of your criticism is agonizing, and if it's hurting him this much, he hates to think what you must be feeling. "None of that is true. I think...I hope, deep down, you know that."

The broken look you give him tells him you don't, or maybe that you can't, at least not right now. You open your mouth to retort, but he shakes his head and hauls you up into his arms. He holds you close as you start to tremble, guiding you to rest your cheek on his shoulder.

"There's nothing shitty about you, alright? You're the least selfish person I've ever met. Kinda wish you were so you'd stop prioritizing us over yourself all the time," he murmurs into your hair. "And you're fucking gorgeous. I don't want to hear you say any of that ever again."

He tilts his head to meet your eyes. "Got it?"

You shake your head, turning to hide your face in the crook of his neck. He sighs. He just can't fathom how you could possibly look at yourself and not see what he and Abby do. But then again, he might understand more than he'd like to admit.

Everything you've told him tonight feels jarringly familiar. The self-hatred, the unending criticism—he wallows in those thoughts all the time and knows better than anyone that they'll eat you alive if you bottle them up for too long.

He hates that you have to suffer through this just because brain chemistry is indiscriminately cruel. It's unfair. He, at the very least, deserves it.

Except, that's not actually true, is it? And if your roles were reversed, you'd remind him as many times as it takes for him to believe it. You'd tell him that he's perfect exactly the way he is. That he's a good parent, brother, and partner, and regardless of all of the shit life has thrown his way, he's still a good person that isn't defined by his lowest moments.

So, he'll do the same for you.

He shifts you on his lap so you're face-to-face, your legs bracketing his thighs, and cups your cheeks to keep your attention on him. He's not letting you hide anymore. He needs you to hear what he has to say and trust that he'd never lie to you.

"You're not worthless or useless or anything else your brain is telling you right now. Okay? You're perfect," he says quietly, stroking your cheek. "I've always thought you were perfect, from the moment I met you."

Doubt clouds your expression. "I don't believe you."

"Why would I lie to you?"

"B-because that's what you're supposed to say when you're trying to make someone feel better," you reply shakily.

Ouch. He hadn’t expected that answer. It stings that you'd think so little of him, especially after all this time. He feels like he’s grasping at straws now, but everything he wants to say is just a variation of how highly he sees you. It’s all equally true, but if you can’t accept that, then what else can he do?

"Then, tell me what you need to hear right now. Tell me how to help you through this, because I love you so fucking much, and I will do anything," he pleads, his frustration bleeding through despite how hard he tries to suppress it.

It’s starting to affect you. You’re shaking like a leaf, and he can tell you want to run away, but instead of letting you go, he wraps his arms around you as carefully as he can to keep you from leaving. He doesn't want to force you to face this. He just needs you to stop hurting yourself. Your face crumples, and he feels his own do the same.

"I don't know. Probably nothing," you tell him, voice cracking. "Look, we don't have to talk about it anymore. I'm sorry for bringing it up in the first place. Can we just go back to watching the movie? I’ll rewind it—“

But Mike doesn't want to let this go. Even if he should, even though you're asking—he's determined to make sure you go to bed tonight knowing how loved you are. His next words come out harsher than he wants them to, but he’s getting desperate. He’s only human.

"Fine. You want the truth? Being with you is hard. It's one of the hardest things I've ever done, and sometimes, it hurts like hell," he starts. Your expression morphs from sad to devastated, and he feels terrible for upsetting you, but he has to say this for both of your sakes.

"But that's what makes it worth it. I've never felt this way about anyone, probably never will again. Not because it's easy; because it's you. Sure, no one's perfect, but you're about as close as it gets. You're it for me.”

He truly believes that. Maybe you do, too. The tension in your body is beginning to bleed away, and you slowly sag against him, tucking yourself into his chest. He catches a glimpse of your face as you melt into him, and for the first time tonight, you look hopeful. Nuzzling into your hair, he continues.

"I can't imagine a life without you anymore. It's like you're part of me now, maybe even the best parts, and I fill in the gaps in between. We just…figured it out at some point. Together.” He’s starting to ramble, but he’s too invested to stop. Judging by the fact that you haven’t interrupted him or tried to intervene, it doesn’t seem like you want him to, either.

“Even the small shit other couples fight about. Like the dishes—you hate doing those because digging the silverware out of the sink grosses you out, so I do it. And you fold the laundry because I always burn myself taking the clothes out of the dryer. We talk shit out. We try."

He squeezes you a little tighter. “Maybe those seem like shitty reasons to love someone, but they’re real. Just as real as what I told you before," he says softly, pausing to kiss the top of your head. "You're beautiful. You're kind and passionate, and I’m just the lucky guy that gets to be with you. I’ll be here as long as you want me.”

When he finally finishes, he’s all but gasping for air. His heart pounds wildly in his chest, and he’s breathing so heavily, he feels like he just ran a marathon. But it’s worth it to see the look on your face as you peer up at him, cautious but peaceful.

“How could I not want you?” you whisper, splaying your hand across his chest, just below his collarbone. You're feeling his heartbeat.

"I've been asking you that all damn night," he chuckles. Cradling your head in his palm, he swipes away a few stray tears that fall with the next flutter of your lashes. "So, did I answer your question or should I keep going? Because seriously, I can keep going—"

You snort, effectively cutting him off, then give him a wry smile. The relief he feels is palpable.

“You know, I really don’t deserve you," you murmur as you lean up to kiss the underside of his jaw. When your lips linger, he ducks down to press his against yours, kissing you deeply and pouring in everything left unsaid.

"Sure, you do," he says kindly, but with finality. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, you're both starting to look as tired as you feel. But more than that, he's grateful; to have you in his life and to be able to comfort you when you need it most. You taught him that. "And I think we both deserve some sleepytime tea and a really soft blanket...if Abby didn't already steal it off our bed."

Your face lights up, and it's as if he solved all of the world's problems with that one simple offering. It's the same look you give him when he tells you he loves you. The corners of your eyes crinkle as you say it back.

"I love you, too."

thanks for reading!

divider by @saradika-graphics

a/n: this was a homework assignment from my therapist 💀 oops

[artemismoorea03]

DP x DC or Marvel: Come Back From The Dead

(Another that can fit either way. Could be Batfam, Justice League or Avengers)

Inspired by the song Zombie: Thorns (not yet fully released).

Summoning's weren't uncommon, something Phantom simply explained away again and again as "these spells just summon the nearest powerful ghost" which made sense to most of the team but to the few members who could actually read the fuckin' spells and symbols knew that it was probably wrong.

But the other option was almost scarier so letting the rest of the team believe Phantom rather than trying to explain that a teenager was the King of the Dead? That was probably easier.

Until it's no longer easy when one of the summoning's go wrong.

It actually works and not in the "Summon Phantom here and then get their asses kicked" but in the "Phantom ends up summoned, trapped, and exposed to something that he's apparently hella allergic to but never bothered mentioning to the rest of the team."

WHO EVEN HEARD OF BLOOD BLOSSOMS?! BECAUSE THE TEAM HADN'T!

By the time they arrive to pick up Phantom, realize the situation isn't like the other 30+ times the Team is too late. Phantom is nothing but a puddle of green and red and the summoners are celebrating. The team see's red. They fight and take down as many enemies as they can but then the puddle moves.

It starts with a hand shooting out of it.

Then another hand.

Then a head slowly forms, glowing green eyes shrouded in white hair and an annoyed scowl greets the enemies.

The summoners panic while the heroes are relieved their friend is alive.

"This isn't possible, we defeated you! This was made specifically to destroy ghosts and take down the King of the Dead - Pariah Dark!"

Phantom forms more and more, the ectoplasm and blood morphing into his body as he shakes his hands. "That was your mistake. You didn't summon, attack or 'take down' Pariah Dark. The one you took down is me."

The energy shifts in the room, every bit of light is sucked out of the room in a cold wave of unforgiving shadow as though the sun itself was devoured.

Phantom doesn't kill and that didn't change there but the summoners minds were full of nightmares for weeks. After that though the summoning's stopped.

"Why didn't the blood blossoms work on you?" One of the team asked.

"Halfa, remember?" Phantom would reply, flipping through a comic. "Any normal ghost would have been, it just hurt like a bitch and destabilized me but since my core wasn't damaged I was fine."

"What happens if they kill your human side though?" Another teammate asked as Phantom chuckled.

"You can't kill something that's technically already dead." Phantom said, "I might be down for a while but I would always come back from the 'dead'."

[aquaquadrant]

Was rereading the first chapter, and: "Predictable, repeatable patterns he’s unconsciously memorized- even now, he’s absentmindedly counting down the seconds until the next potion is dispensed."

Do you think, even after ten years, Tango can still time exactly two minutes in his head? Do you think sometimes he finds himself tapping his fingers absently, and realizes there's exactly a second between each tap, stopwatch-perfect, like his hands are still expecting to feel the wither-cold pain of the roses? Do you think someone notices, and they jokingly call him a human metronome, and he has to laugh and pretend it's not because of the months he spent in constant agony?

"After that, his reflection showed that the tips of his ears had darkened- along with his feet and fingertips- and his wither-black tears left permanent stains under his eyes, persisting even after respawn."

Do you think his friends think the black marks are a blaze hybrid thing, but then they meet another blaze hybrid (maybe in MCC) and start to wonder? Do you think they ask? Do you think he makes an excuse about individual variation, or evades the question, or mumbles vaguely about the wither effect and changes the subject?

"He’s spent so much time with the wither effect- grown accustomed to it, even- that he can’t tell right away when it’s starting to overcome him."

Do you think that later, once he's out, he's fighting wither skeletons or even a wither (secret life?) and he nearly dies from the wither effect, because he didn't notice until it was almost too late? Do you think someone, a hermit or a teammate or even a soulmate, scolds him for being reckless with his health, but in his head he's back in Hels again, withering and healing and withering and healing and withering and healing for eternity?

"The chains- well, they seemed to have snapped when he respawned away from them, leaving just a few links attached to his shackles."

Clothes respawn with players. Do you think that's why the cuffs came with him, even though they were attached to the wall? Do you think that after the "training" mentioned in the comic, he considers them a part of him, to the point where his own code does, too?

"Tango inhales deeply; he hadn’t realized he missed the smell of fire so much."

Do you think that even now, he associates fire with freedom and relief and finally, no more pain? Do you think that after flashbacks and nightmares and panic attacks, he sits by a fire and reminds himself that it's not real, it's been years, he's free? Do you think someone finds him, and sits with him, and he realizes that free doesn't have to mean alone?

And in the most recent drabble: "what if the only thing stopping him from reverting back to his old ways is the illusion of control maintained by these shackles?"

Do you think that when he's in the nether, when he sees a fortress, he thinks of the wither skeletons? Do you think that just for a moment, he almost considers withering himself on purpose, another illusory layer of control, to make sure he stays good?

ohhhkay, ok i’m normal about this, i promise. HM. YEAH. suffice to say, this is an amazing ask, but to avoid making it too long or giving too much away i’ll provide very brief answers (to each respective question) below.

yes, yes, and yes. a lot of things from his time at hels tek have stuck with him even after all these years.

yes, yes, and the first one (“that’s just my own unique personal flair!”). luckily this came up at a time when he’d gotten better at lying.

yes and yes, for the first few times he encountered wither skeletons and/or the wither after escaping to hermitcraft. impulse was very concerned.

yes and yes. surely this won’t be relevant in the future…

yes, yes, and sorta- he’s still working on that.

yes, the presence of wither skeletons is one of the main reasons he dislikes the nether (aside from it reminding him of hels). and actually no; before now, the cuffs have been enough for him and he hates the thought of being withered again.

[multifandomfanficss]

It’s About Time

Ed Nygma/The Riddler x Reader

Prompt: Ed offers to help you with time management when you tell him you’re stressed at work. Your conversation is interrupted by an attack on the GCPD by the Maniax.

Warnings: Mentions of murder, cannibalism, r*pists, abuse, and general graphic violence. Gotham typical violence. Mental health struggles. Sensory issues and meltdowns common with autism. Panic. Near death experiences. Claustrophobia. References to being buried alive. Nightmares.

A/N: I’m rewatching Gotham and I didn’t realize the missed potential for hurt/comfort the first time I watched this show 7 years ago. My work load has been really heavy lately, but this show broke me out of my writers block and I made time for the writing bug. This takes place in the middle of Ed’s Riddler arc. He hasn’t fully become the Riddler yet, but he has already made his first kill. The reader has qualities of an autistic person, but is not explicitly said to be autistic. I accidentally code a lot of my characters to be autistic because I am, but this was more intentional to reflect Ed’s autistic coding. Feel free to read into it or not! You don’t have to be autistic to read and hopefully enjoy this! Crossposted on my AO3 adriansglasses.

“I’ve been so stressed lately.” You sigh. “It’s like I can’t get anything done that I actually need to get done.” You stand in the hallway of the precinct talking to your friend Ed. You were stressing about this case and Jim Gordon was making you go through hundreds of old files for him. You were never part of the real action, but the horrifying crime scene photos and evidence you had to pull through everyday was taking a toll on you. Gordon’s time crunches never helped either. You understood that lives were often on the line, but that didn’t make it any easier.

“What can some people never get enough of and others say is too much? What has the ability to fly when having fun or is stuck completely frozen when you need it to move?” He smiles. You stare at him blankly. You had not been getting enough sleep. You loved hearing his riddles, but you were never the best at giving him the answers. It was so hard for your mind to keep track of it all. “Do you give up?” He asks.

“My brain just isn’t braining right now.” You laugh. “What’s the answer?”

“Time.” He beams, happy with himself. “You should try to implement a better time management plan. You look tired all the time. It’s like you’re not even sleeping.”

“Thanks, Ed.” You give a dry laugh.

“You know what I mean.” You nod in an agreement with him. “You might be the only person who usually knows what I mean.” He says, fiddling with his fingers and the buttons on his coat.

He was right. Nobody quite seemed to get him, but nobody quite seemed to get you either. You had always felt this odd draw to him that you could never quite explain. Truthfully you think you have feelings for him, but you always bury them. He saw you as a friend and he really needed a friend. Besides he had been pinning over Kristen since before you even got to the precinct. You had mixed feelings towards her. On one hand you felt bad for her. She was always getting mixed up with shitty boyfriends who treated her poorly, but on the other hand she had a mean streak. You never liked how she treated Ed. It was like he wasn’t a person with feelings to her and that made you so angry.

“You’re right. I haven’t been sleeping.” You tell him.

“Why is that?” He asks.

“We live in Gotham. With the terrifying shit we see everyday, I don’t know how anyone sleeps.”

“Are you having nightmares again?” He asks, his face painted with concern.

“It’s fine. It’s just work stress. It’s just this case. I’m fine.” You smile. It wasn’t a real smile. Your smiles always came so naturally around Ed that he knew something was off. He was about to press when you heard gunshots coming from down the hall. Your body immediately froze like a dear in headlights in the middle of the hallway.

You’ve had violent people in the precinct before and it always made you nervous, but this was different. The Maniax were on the loose and you knew they were too unhinged to care about survivors or bargains. With Jerome Valeska at the helm, along side cannibals, rapists, and murderers you were terrified. They’d escaped from Arkham days ago and already managed to murder dozens of people. This was far too close to the action for you, as you heard Jerome’s laugh bellowing down the hall from the bullpen; a laugh you remembered from one of your early cases at the precinct. You had felt bad for him and tried to help him when his mother died. You will never forget the laugh he let out when Jim realized he wasn’t as innocent as you’d thought. It ran a chill through your spine.

Everything started moving too fast when you realized you were being pulled down the hall quickly. Once you realized you were holding hands, you tightly grasped Ed’s hand, not wanting to be separated from him. He brings you further down the hall into the ME’s lab.

“W-where are we going?” You stutter. It’s like your mouth can’t keep up with your racing mind.

“Do you trust me?” He looks at you trying to stay calm.

“Ed, what are you doing?” You’re panicking. He can tell. It’s not hard to tell, as your hands fidget and your breathing is heavy. You’re trying to stay calm.

“(Y/N), I need you to trust me.” He places his hands on your shoulders in an effort to ground you with the pressure. You close your eyes and nod, hesitantly. You do trust him.

Ed runs to the cold lockers and opens one, checking to see if it’s empty. He finds a dead body inside. You cringe. Seeing bodies is rare for you and you’re still getting used to it.

“Oh dear… okay… second times the charm…” He mumbles to himself trying to find an empty locker. “Bingo!” He smiles, finding an empty one. The wheels start to turn in your head.

“No! I’m not getting in there!” Your panic increases. Ed shushes you.

“This is our best chance. I promise I’ll let you out as soon as I can.”

“We won’t be together?” Your eyes start to burn. You try to keep back tears. You’re shaking.

“We won’t both fit in the same one. I’m gonna go in the one above you-“

“No no please I- I don’t wanna be by myself! Please don’t leave me!” You cut him off and beg him. Ed awkwardly rubs his thumbs across your shoulders where he places his hands again, still trying to ground you. It’s awkward, but it’s still somewhat calming.

“I’m not leaving you. I would never leave you. I’ll be right next to you the whole time. I promise. I need you to trust me.” You’re not sure if it’s because it’s life or death, or if it’s because it’s Ed, but you reluctantly let him help your shaking body into the mortuary cabinet. When it comes time to let go of his hand and close the cabinet, you don’t want to. Despite quickly running out of time, he knows he needs to be patient. He knows how hard this is for you. He’s always known you’re a bit claustrophobic. He had no idea one of your worst fears was being buried alive. Being stuck in a cold locker wasn’t too far from either of those things. He can hear footsteps far down the hall. The Maniax were never subtle. He kisses the hand he’s holding quickly before closing your locker and climbing into his own. You were surprised by the kiss, but you couldn’t think about that right now and what it could have meant. Your mind couldn’t keep up. He had to leave his own locker unlocked, unable to properly close it from the inside, but he locked yours to make it look more convincing.

When Ed heard you cry, he began to whisper, hoping he could be loud enough for you to hear, but quiet enough for the Maniax to not notice. “It’s okay, (Y/N). I’m still here.” It was enough to quiet your sobs. Tears silently streamed down your cheeks. Ed’s voice had a certain gentleness to it when he spoke to you. He was being especially gentle now. You had seen him angry, upset, anxious, energetic, but his calm voice was reserved for you. Even in this moment when he was admittedly not very calm, he was trying his best to mask his own fears to keep you safe.

You always reserved parts of yourself for each other; parts of yourselves that the other person enabled you to be. You were never as bold as you wanted to be, but when people were rude to Ed you stuck up for him. He brought out a more confident version of you. For Ed, he knew you struggled with staying calm when you were stressed, upset, anxious or scared, even when you were happy. All of your emotions were so big and you rarely knew how to contain them. He tried to stay calm because he knew you saw him as a calming person in your life. He liked being your hero when everyone else only saw him as a weak, odd, nuisance. He also liked that he could read you and that you were honest with him. He trusted you and it helped keep the voice in his head at bay. He didn’t have to question himself with you. He didn’t have to take advice from the voice in his head.

You tried to keep your meltdown as quiet as possible when you heard footsteps approach. They were heavy, not ones you recognized. You knew it had to be one of the Maniax, probably the cannibal. You tried to make your breath as quiet as possible. After what you assume was a poor sweep of the room, the man leaves.

After what seems like hours of being trapped in a corpse you finally hear sirens and then chatter. You hear Ed climb out of the locker above you. He opens your locker and you let out an audible sob.

“I think they’ve gone.” He says, pulling out the drawer to let your body get some much needed air. You start gasping and sobbing, shaking on the drawer of the mortuary cabinet. Your body jolts up. You just want to get away from the locker.

“You’re okay! You’re okay!” Ed catches your body, as your start to fall from the drawer to the floor. You sit on the floor and cling to him, sobbing. At first awkward, he runs his hand along your back, trying to sooth you with the repetitive motion.

“I felt like I was dead- like- like I was gonna get buried alive-“ You gasp for air, sobbing between your words. Ed shushes you.

“We’re okay. They’re gone.” He promises.

You hear fast approaching footsteps. Your brain is moving too fast to decide if the footsteps are familiar or not. You just bury yourself further into Ed’s chest.

“Detective Gordon is here.” He informs you and you relax only slightly.

“Nygma, are they okay?” Jim asks.

“No mortal wounds, they’re just a bit shaken up.” He lets him know.

“You two should probably still get checked out. I need to finish scanning the building for everyone else. So far we’ve got 9 cops dead in the bullpen and… and the commissioner is dead.” He says. It’s almost like you hear Jim, but you don’t. Your mind can’t keep up with anything that’s happening.

After a while you find yourself sitting, waiting for Lee to check you out. Ed had been pulled away for a few minutes to do his job. He didn’t want to leave you, but you assured him you were fine. You didn’t feel fine, but you knew they needed him. As long as you could see him on the other side of the bullpen, you were reluctant, but okay with him stepping away. He left his jacket draped around your shoulders. It helped to be surround by his smell and warmth.

When it was time to go home, Ed guided you to his car. You hadn’t spoken much, but at least you’d finally stopped crying. The car ride was quiet. The only thing that filled the air was Ed’s occasional hum with the radio. Neither of you quite knew what to say. It was a bit ironic considering usually nobody could ever get you two to shut up. You didn’t speak up until he turned onto your street.

“I don’t want to go home.” You said quietly, feeling the panic rise again at the thought of being alone at home again.

“That’s understandable. Would you like to stay at my place?” He asks. You nod, silently. He flicks his turn signal and starts the drive to his place.

“Welcome to Château Nygma.” He smiles, turning on the light. You still have his jacket wrapped around your shoulders. Despite the terror you’ve been through today, his smile is refreshing. You don’t question how he can stay so seemingly sane in times like these, but you’re just glad somebody is. You need that. Maybe you should have questioned it, but you didn’t. He has a nice apartment. It’s not too big. Why would it be for a man who lived by himself? It’s just the right size with cool windows and a comfortable setup.

“Do you want something to eat? I’m a good cook.” He smiles. You don’t know how he can continue to smile, but you’re glad. It starts to make you feel safer. It’s nice to be in a locked apartment with just you and Ed. It’s nice to be in a quiet, secluded place, but not feel alone. It’s far better than sitting on your bed, scared of any serial killers that could be hiding underneath the frame and jumping at any people you hear in the stairwell of your apartment, with an open case file sitting next to you, worried the killers you’re reading about could be onto you any second. Today was a very close call. Too close.

“If you’re not sure, that’s okay too.” He continues, noticing you’re deep in thought.

“Oh…uh yeah… I’m not sure what I want… It’s like my body needs things, but I’m just a little bit too overwhelmed to figure it out.” You look down, shyly.

“Do you want to just sit? I can put on some music?” He questions referencing the record player with his hands.

“That sounds okay. I think I can do that.” You nod. He puts on some quiet music, not too loud to overstimulate you and you make your way to the couch. He brings you a glass of water.

“I can imagine it might be hard for you to have an appetite given your increased levels of adrenaline today, but you should at least drink this.” You take the water from him and begin to sip it. You didn’t realize how nice cold water could feel. You drink it quickly, before setting the glass down.

“Thank you.”

Ed sits down and you gravitate towards him.

“How do you do it?” You ask.

“How do I do what?” He looks for clarification.

“Your job. There’s so much death everywhere.”

“I don’t know. I just sort of do. Honestly I think it’s fascinating…” He pauses, looking away from you. “Sorry. That probably sounds weird.”

“It does, but that’s okay. I like the fact that you’re different and you’re honest. It’s comforting. You’re a better man than all of those crooked cops walking around beating up women and mobsters alike.”

“You think so?” He asks.

“Yeah, I do.” You smile. This time it’s a real smile. Ed smiles too. It’s nice to know after everything he’s done for you to make you comfortable, you can say something to make him feel better.

“I’m sorry all of this has been so awful for you.” He says.

“I know we’re doing good and it’s important to do good in a world of so much bad, but sometimes I just wish nobody had to do it. I can’t even fathom what would make somebody what kill another person. Maybe out of necessity, but it scares me that people actually enjoy it.”

“Yeah.” Ed shifts uncomfortably. You think he must agree with you and that’s why he’s unconformable. You don’t know that he killed Officer Doherty for abusing Kristen just over a month ago.

The two of you talk for quite some time until you end up falling asleep next to him on the couch. He doesn’t mind when you fall into his lap. He lets you sleep, smiling down at you. He didn’t dare move. He didn’t want to wake you. He was afraid of breathing too deeply and shifting too much underneath you. He eventually falls asleep sitting up with you still in his lap.

Everything is peaceful until you shoot up screaming, in a cold sweat. You’ve had another nightmare. This time is different. You’re disoriented. You don’t know where you are. You feel hands touching you.

“(Y/N), it’s me! It’s Ed! You had another nightmare.” You look at his face to see him distraught, unsure of what to do. Your tossing and turning had woken him up. He was awake only seconds before you.

Your eyes begin to well with tears. “I just want it to stop. When will all of this stop?” You cry.

“When will what stop?” He asks.

“Everything! I just want to stop feeling like this. I want to stop being afraid. I should be used to the job by now.”

“Maybe you just need more time to get used to it! I know we talked about time management earlier. I can help you with your schedule.” He offers.

“I don’t want to manage my time. I just want it to freeze. I just wish time would freeze so I could just breathe and catch up!”

Ed looks at you defeated. He doesn’t know what to say. He likes riddles because riddles always have answers. He doesn’t know what to do when there’s a problem with no solution.

“I’m sorry.” He settles with saying. “Would a hug help?” He’s just grasping at anything he’s seen people do when trying to comfort other people with problems and no solutions.

“Yes.” You say quietly, burying your head in his chest. Despite being the one to offer the hug, he’s a little awkward at first. He eventually settles in.

“Is this helping?” He asks.

“Yes.” You tell him. Of course, Ed being who he is, even now he’s still looking for a solution. He doesn’t realize he may be the solution, or at least someone to help make the problem smaller. “You always help.” You add.

“I’m sure most of our coworkers would disagree.” He laughs.

“I never thanked you for earlier today.” You say quietly.

“It was nothing.” He smiles.

“No, Ed. Keeping me safe in a life or death situation isn’t nothing.”

“I’m sure anyone would have done it.” He argues.

“No, they wouldn’t have.” You tell him.

“I’ll always protect you.” He pulls you closer, shifting awkwardly underneath you. “You know… my apartment is always open if you want to sleep with me- I- I mean sleep with me in attendance- I- I mean sleep with each other- I- I mean near each other- you know! In case you have nightmares!”

“I might just have to take you up on that. This is the first night I’ve felt okay enough to be able to maybe go back to sleep afterwards.” You smile, trying not to laugh. You don’t want him to think you’re making fun of him. Truthfully you think he’s sweet and funny.

“You should go back to sleep and since I didn’t get to make you dinner I’ll be making you the best breakfast of your life tomorrow.” He beams.

“You better.” You snuggle into him. Ed is too awkward to suggest you go lay in his bed tonight and you’re too tired to care. You spend the rest of the night on the couch together. You can save the bed for tomorrow night. You know when you wake up in the morning you’ll be coming back. It was the most sleep you’ve gotten in weeks.

Ed wakes up before you and sneaks off the couch to start breakfast. He truthfully was a very good cook. His own sensory issues with food made him very particular about how it’s prepared. You wake up to the smell of something good in the oven. Ed is nowhere to be seen, but you hear him in the bathroom. He’s talking. You knew he often talked to himself, but he sounded like he was talking to someone else. Maybe he was on the phone. You were sure you were hearing one half of a conversation.

“I told you we could trust them. They like me for me. They think I’m a good man.”

[vaporwavebeach-writes]

Kinktober Day 12 (Medical Play)

BTAA Scarecrow x Reader (NSFW)

(1,223 Words)

Summary: you have a debilitating phobia of needles and Dr. Crane has the solution to overcoming those fears

Warnings/Tags: 18+, gender neutral reader, reader has MAJOR trypanophobia (fear of needles), panic attacks, exposure therapy, medical kink (duh), crane feeding off the reader’s fear, crane being unprofessional, doctor/patient dynamic, fingering

Notes: sorry this one’s a little late LMAO but literally? as someone who had SEVERE trypanophobia, this was kinda empowering to write, enjoy the fic!!!

-

There was always a sense of unease whenever you found yourself at the doctors office. Maybe it was the awkward silence of sitting in the waiting room, anticipating what’s to come. Maybe it was the little intrusions that came with a basic physical check-up. Maybe it was unsettling scent of sterilized chemicals, sanitizing the room. Maybe it was those beige colored walls, glaring at you for the duration of your visit. Maybe it was the fact that you were about to be subjected to one of your worst fears. Or maybe, it was the fact that your physician is incredibly attractive.

Yeah, that too.

You find yourself, laying on his exam table, staring up at the ceiling. His voice, playful, as he explains the clinical the proceedings of this visit, reverberates off the walls.

“I’m really glad to see you taking the initiative to face your fears, exposure therapy isn’t for the faint of heart, you know.”

Your heart flutters at his words. As someone who suffered from a fear of needles since childhood, you figured that now, well into your adulthood, it was finally time to overcome that fear.

Doctors appointments for important vaccinations or even just the seasonal flu shot was always enough to spiral you into a panic. Nightmares leading up to it, hyperventilating, and giving yourself panic attacks to the point of nausea or fainting were feelings you had become all too familiar with. Feeling the prying gazes of other people in the waiting room or judgmental nurses always caused your embarrassment to spike at what you thought, was your own childish anxieties.

Seeing Dr. Jonathan Crane changed all that. When you scheduled your first session with him, his office felt comfortable. Adorned with classic horror movie posters and little mementos about his interests gave the impression that you wouldn’t be just some patient to him, but someone who he would genuinely try to help with your issues. When time came to actually talk about your fear, he wasn’t mean, or judgmental, or condescending, but he was understanding. He was someone who took a deep interest in whatever you had to say, as a patient and as a person. When he suggested the idea of exposure therapy, you were hesitant, but he had helped you come to realize that you had to start somewhere, which lead you to the clinic.

“Thanks, doctor,” you smile nervously, “gotta start somewhere, right?”

“Too true,” he says, turning to you as he walks over to the counter. “I appreciate that you put your trust in me to help you with such a… Debilitating, vulnerability.”

You hear the metallic rustling from within the cabinets. You stare back up at the ceiling, yet your curiosity gets the better of you. Glancing back over to him, you spy him preparing the needles, sending a wave of trepidation through your body.

“The syringes will be filled with a simple saline solution, it’s not harmful, but the solution is not what you’re afraid of, is it?” Maybe it’s just your anxiety, but you could swear there’s a hint of eeriness within his voice.

“Hey, uh, Doctor?”

“What is it, sweet pea?” He asks jokingly.

“I um, I just wanna apologize in advance in case I freak out at the needle.” You muster out with as much courage as you can. “Like, I-I might cry actually.” You chuckle nervously. You actually do feel the urge to cry as uneasiness fills the pit in your stomach.

“Aw now,“ There’s a playfulness to his voice. You’ve heard it many times in sessions, but it feels a little unsettling to hear it now. “Don’t psych yourself up too much, remember your breathing techniques.”

You can’t regulate your breathing at a time like this. As he makes his way over to you with a little alcohol wipe, you feel yourself beginning to hyperventilate. You feel the sweat trickling down your forehead as your throat begins to go dry. You feel faint; clammy. That alcohol wipe was the calm before the storm. You were fine when it was swabbed across your skin, but it always signaled what’s to come.

“Dr. Crane, I don’t know if I-”

“The feelings you have right now are completely expected,” he hushes you. “It’s all anticipatory, you fear the dread of it more than the actual stick itself, and I think I have found a sufficient way to combat that,” his explanation is stern, but comforting. He takes his gloved hands in yours, feeling his warmth through the latex. “Do you trust me?”

You’re hesitant. Your eyes threaten to spill tears out of the sheer distress you feel at the moment, yet Crane stares at you confidently, as if he knows you will make the right decision. You let out a shaky sigh, “Yes.”

“Good,” he grins at you. His hand makes its way to cup your cheek, gently thumbing over you. It moves up and around, to the nape of your neck and through your scalp, playing with your hair. You practically melt into his touch, fear beginning to dissipate from within you. And it’s at that moment, he gives it a tug, eliciting a soft moan from your lips. “A good method to combating fear, is to add an equally positive stimulus.” He lets out a low chuckle in response, which you feel go straight to your groin.

“I think I catch your drift.”

“Trust me,” he whirls you around on the table, spreading your legs. You can feel the heat pooling in your sex. “By the time I’m done with you, your phobia of needles will be the last thing on your mind.” He eyes you up, feeling his predatory gaze all around you like you wish his body was.

“I don’t want to be afraid anymore,” you whisper desperately.

“Then let’s not waste any time.”

You two work together to undo your pants. Your sex drips with arousal as Dr. Crane’s hand makes its way past your underwear. Your legs shake as he grazes over a particularly sensitive spot. He adds more pressure stroking you steadily as you all but grind yourself on his hand.

“God, you are such a good patient,” he groans. “Your determination to cure yourself of this fear, by any means necessary, is remarkable.”

You let out a breathy moan at the praise. You feel his fingers enter inside you, curling up and fucking away any fear you had before.

“Dr. Crane,” you gasp. “I think, I-I’m-”

“Getting close?”

“Mhm.” You groan.

You feel yourself quickly reaching your peak, eyes slamming shut. As you feel Crane’s fingers speeding up, there’s a sharp, painful sensation in your arm, making you cry out in a pained whine. With the pain, soon follows your orgasm, which tears through you frantically.

Breathing heavily, you come down from your euphoric high, to find Dr. Crane removing his gloves, smiling over at you proudly.

“Congratulations,” he smirks. “We’ve made excellent progress in overcoming your phobia, I think we’ve made a break through.” Washing his hands in the sink, he takes a seat on the table beside you, that playful tone once again adorning his voice. “However, I think we may need to have a few more sessions, fears aren’t cured overnight you know.”

You giggle, looking at him feeling giddy. You couldn’t wait for your next appointment.

[jasntodds]

Petrichor [14]

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

Words: 15,441

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff, mentions of abuse, description of withdrawal, mentions of scars, jason's self-hatred, hurt/comfort, a little blood

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

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

A/N: Because I decided to start fixing things last chapter, I had to rewrite this entire chapter lmao so I'm sorry it's late!! I also split this chapter into 2 parts because it was over 30k words please help lol You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary  and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

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The next morning, Jason shoots awake from a nightmare but outside of the initial panic and rumbling heartbeat he almost feels too accustomed to, he’s confused. His eyes are on the dresser on the opposite wall and it takes him a minute to process how he even got here. The last clear thing he remembers is choking and not being able to breathe because Crane drugged him. Jason sucks in a few breaths, brows pulling together as he shakes the nightmare away and tries to piece together details from last night.

It’s all a little foggy and jumbled but he remembers being duct taped and Crane saying something about destroying the Titans and then you. Then he remembers the pump station, being tied up there. Then, he remembers you completely suited up and your hands on his cheeks, panic in your eyes.

Jason’s heart thunders again, realizing it was you that brought him back here.

You came to find him.

His head feels like it’s going to explode. A migraine is kicking in his skull as if it’s armed with a battering ram. The more he tries to remember details, the more his head hurts but he tries away. And he looks down, realizing he’s not in the Red Hood gear anymore but he has no memory of changing. Something about missing large pieces of time is scary and frustrating. So much could have happened and he just has no memory of it. And he’s thinking something went wrong, maybe he did or said something because you aren’t here and he knows what happened with you two. But, if you showed up to save him, you wouldn’t just leave unless you had a good reason. You’d always stay to make sure he were okay and then you’d probably tell him off and leave. But, you're not here.

What did he do now?

He puts his head in his hands, groaning loudly. His head starts to spin and his stomach cramps into knots. It twists and turns sending him into a nauseous spin. His bones feel wrong, like they want to vibrate out of his own skin and he feels sweaty but he’s cold. He’s frustrated and alone and devastated and going through withdrawal and everything sucks. He really had to go fuck it all up. Nothing was really all that bad, not compared to how it is now and he’d do anything to go back there. At this point, he might even take the paralyzing fear and panic attacks.

Jason sucks in a breath, lifting his head before he looks to the side of the mattress to try to will himself to get up but that’s when he sees a piece of paper. He plucks it up, unfolding it.

“Kidnappers: 0 You and me: 4              - Y/n <3”

Jason’s chest feels warm as a small smile starts to tug at his lips. Of all the things you could write in a note, it would be that. His eyes stay on the note and maybe you did have to go for another reason. If you were that mad at him, you wouldn’t leave him a note, not this note anyway. So, Jason folds it into a small square and puts it into the pocket of his sweatpants before he wills himself to get up.

Jason makes his way down the large staircase as his head feels like it’s wobbling. He knows withdrawal is tortuous. He knows that but he really didn’t expect it to feel like this. As much as he tries to not think about it, the only thing he wants is the drug. It’s the only thought that’s coming through clear as day, taunting about how much better he’ll feel if he just takes it. His head won’t feel like it’s exploding and he won’t want to peal his skin off of his bones. The cramps will vanish and he won’t feel the shaking in his hands anymore, just like old times. The back cramp will go away and his leg won’t be in pain. Jason knows it’s a bad idea, based on last night, but it’s growing more and more tempting with every step he takes down the stairs.

“Wow, you look like shit.”

Jason jumps as he reaches the bottom of the stairs, eyes shooting up to the bench in front of the end of the staircase. You're lying there, your phone above your face and your knees are bent, feet planted on the bench.

You didn’t leave?

“Fuck you.” Jason mutters, brows knitting together as he tries to figure out what the fuck is going on.

Why didn’t you leave?

You glance back to him from the corner of your eyes and he does look terrible. The dark circles are back, more prominent than they were the other night. The light in his eyes is gone and he’s really pale. He looks like he might actually be sick and you think his cheeks look a little more hollowed than they did before. His hair doesn’t even have the same volume that it normally does and it breaks your heart.

He’s going through it now and this time there actually might be nothing you can even offer to do to help. At least before, you could just offer to listen and be there for him. That was always something but this is different. He’s just going to have to ride it out and you feel horrible for it.

You grin softly to yourself, typing away at your screen before you sit up, planting your feet on the floor. “It’s true.” You shrug your shoulders. You bend down, sliding a white box out from under the bench before you pick it up. “Got donuts, picked up a few of your favorites.” You hold out the box for Jason but his stomach just twists at the thought of food.

“Not hungry.” He nearly grimaces as he looks to his own shoes.

You nod, rolling your eyes. “Yeah, it’s called withdrawal. You should eat anyway. You need some sugar, hence donut. Plus, dough is filling. It might help.” You extend your arms further. “Eat.”

Jason hesitates, looking to the right before he hangs his head, letting out a sigh and then walks over to you. You're one of the most persistent and persuasive people Jason has ever met and he is under no condition or mood to try and even argue with that. You’ll win anyway. You always win in some way. He sits beside you while you open the box, giving him one of the four donuts that are left. Jason raises a brow, wondering if you've eaten.

“Here.” You grab a bottle of water from the side of the bench and hand that to him. “You also need some water.”

Jason takes it from you slowly as he grows more and more confused. What the ever-living-fuck happened last night that he does not remember? The last thing he knew, you two were not speaking. You might have rescued him but this is weird, even for you. You're sturdy in your beliefs and sturdy in your own words. You're being awfully nice and it’s freaking Jason out. He’s starting to think he might be running a fever and maybe this is all just a very vivid dream. You have no reason to be this nice to him at the moment.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You question, your brows furrowing together as Jason just looks at you as if you're some sort of math problem he can’t figure out.

“What the fuck is going on?” Jason finally asks, looking at the donuts and then back to you.

Your heart skips a beat and you knew he’d be confused. That’s a little bit of why you're doing it. A little bit of payback for the hell he’s been putting you through. But, if you wanted to be brutally honest, the guilt of saying you were giving up him is eating at you from the inside out. It is one of the only things you think about because it doesn’t matter that you didn’t mean it because Jason thinks you do. Why wouldn’t he? You literally said it out loud. And then he got kidnapped and drugged. You don’t want to abandon him, drug or not. And last night you got to see a part of the old Jason you thought maybe didn’t come back when he came back to life. You thought maybe, the pit kept a part of his soul. But, last night, he was him. Drugged and high, but him. The Jason you know and love. So, you're here, being nice and making sure he’s eating and getting water because he should have someone in his corner anyway.

Last night, Dick said you and Gar did a good job and you suddenly understood Jason’s entire motive. The weight of the world was placed on his shoulders by Bruce and made worse by being a replacement to Dick. That wasn’t Dick’s fault, but he could have done more. And it was never about having someone to help him lift the weight, it was always about Jason needing to find his own footing outside of the approval of who he looked up to most. That’s just…a lot easier said than done. He needed the one person who gave him everything, not to abandon him but he did anyway. You understand his motive and you're thinking, abandonment is the worst possible option for him. It always was. And you should have known, because it was always the worst option for you, too.

You offer a cheeky smile, faking it entirely. “Is it freaking you out?”

“Yeah, kind of.” Jason snips.

He’s thinking he’s either running a fever, he’s hallucinating, he died again, or he’s in some type of coma thanks to the drug Crane gave him. This whole thing just feels weird and the you he knows would be telling him off and calling him a shithead for getting himself into this mess and then immediately saying it wasn’t actually his fault. Jason knows it is. But, you always tell him it’s not. This time though, you're just offering him food as if nothing happened the last few days. He would love if you two could just move on as if nothing happened, but the reality is that it did happen. Last night and the night before happened. You aren’t nearly as forgiving as he is.

You let out a laugh, leaning your head back. “Good.”

You do not want him to know how worried you are about him or about your own guilt. He’s already going to have a rough few days getting the drug out of his system and you don’t want to make it any worse. At this point, the only thing you want is for things to go back to some type of normal. You know you have to talk and sort it out but you want to feel normal, without all the weight, for just a few minutes even. You want a break from everything. And Jason was always your safe haven when things got too heavy and too loud. He was always good at carrying the weight that didn’t belong to him and blocking out the noise.

Jason's face drops but a smile slowly creeps onto his face. “Are you fucking with me?”

You snicker softly. “I mean, you do need food and water, but yeah.” You nod your head. “I’m always fucking with you.” You say softly as you roll your shoulders.

Jason’s entire chest starts to swarm with a vibrating warmth. “Fuck you.” Jason quips, a gentle smile on his lips before he picks up a donut, eyeing it softly. The last thing he wants right now is food.

“Just eat it, Jay. It’ll help.” You say softly, seeing the hesitation on his face.

Jason shakes his head and he needs to do anything else and not eat, or at least try to distract himself to eat. He can’t concentrate on much but he’s curious enough as to why you're still here. You're fucking with him as usual, but he does not deserve your kindness or you trying to take care of him. He should be doing it on his own, after everything he did. To all of you. This isn’t right. Yet, you're still somehow here.

“Have you been here the whole time?” Jason asks.

“No.” You answer simply, swinging your feet slightly. “Gar came to bring me clothes so we went to get some food down the street real quick and got extra for you. Came right back though just in case you woke up.” You explain, looking back to him with a soft smile.

You didn’t want to go far. You didn’t want Jason to think you would just up and leave again. It has to be different this time. Jason was an apologizing mess last night and being held captive is traumatic. You were never going to leave without making sure he was okay and seeing if he did want to have that conversation for real. It might be heavy but maybe it’ll make things kind of, sort of, normal again. But, Gar insisted on breakfast and you weren’t going to disappoint him again.

“Why the fuck did you come anyway?” Jason asks before he finally gets the courage to take a bite of the donut. “You said not to contact you and shit.”

He doesn’t say it out of spite this time. He says it because it’s true and as mad and as hurt as he was, he also gets it. Now that he’s sober, he doesn’t even blame you. He thinks you should have done that from the start, even if it’s killing him on the inside. The last good thing about him was you and he destroyed every part of that. You don’t deserve that but you're here anyway. Offering him food and acting normal. One of the things he always really liked about you is that he could never really figure you out.

You turn your full attention to him, your heart sinking with any hope of having that conversation today. If he doesn’t remember anything, he doesn’t remember what you said or you seeing his scars or helping him or him asking you to stay. It’s not that you want him to remember any of it. In your opinion, he’s lucky not to remember most of it. Maybe he won’t see it that way, but you do. Even if it doesn’t quite work out for you.

“You don’t remember much of last night, do you?” You ask and Jason shakes his head shamefully. “I’ll always come find you.” You say casually but your voice is just above a whisper. “You’d do it for me.” You shrug easily and your words make Jason look to your neck where he can see the silver peaking out from under your hoodie. “You, uh, you said to bring you here so I did. You asked me to stay so I did. You, uh, you….you were apologizing a lot so I said we could talk later if you still wanted to.” You tug your sleeves over your hands.

Jason nods his head, slowly making his way through his food with a few sips of water. That explains a lot actually. He isn’t sure exactly what he was like last night, but he’s imagining it wasn’t too pretty if he had to ask you to stay. And maybe having a conversation is why you stayed, a sense of hope, maybe. If you're willing, he’d love to talk about it for once but his head also hurts and his spine feels like it wants to crack out of his back. The withdrawal is making it hard enough to even have this conversation with you. He thinks if you’ll talk, it should be when he can actually participate properly. You deserve that much.

“Thanks for staying.” Jason says quietly. “Don’t fucking deserve.” Jason lets out a scoff as he shakes his head.

You furrow your brows as you turn to face him, pulling your knee on the bench so the bottom of your shoe rests against your other leg off the bench. “You know, you should know by now that I think you deserve the world, Jay.”

“Why?” Jason huffs and a part of him is getting pissed that you even think that. Do you not understand the gravity of the things he’s done? “Look at what I’ve become!”

“It’s not really you.” You say softly. “And I know you know that.” You nod your head quickly. “But you never thought you deserved better. I know shit gets bad for you and always has been. But, that shit never mattered to me. You did.” You say and Jason thinks he just swallowed his own heart. Did? “Do.” You state firmly. “You do. Anti-fear drug you isn’t the real you.”

Maybe the anti-fear drug version of him isn't really him but Robin wasn't either. Living in a fancy mansion with money and everything he could have wanted. Following directly behind Bruce and Dick, trying to fill their shoes when their viewpoints are so wildly different. Bruce can try all he wants but Batman was born from vengeance. He got to go home to a cave underneath his fancy mansion with all of his tech Jason couldn't even dream of touching before. Bruce was raised by a fucking butler that was still on Bruce's payroll. Batman was born because Bruce's rich parents were killed in cold blood. And Bruce had all of the means to make Batman happen. That's great, Jason fully believes that's great, but it's different.

Bruce didn't see the dealers or sex workers or the pimps or addicts or traffickers in the flesh. Bruce didn't see that some of those people "breaking the law" were just doing what they had to do to survive because the system was never meant to help them. Jason might have some resentment towards his dad for everything, but he also knows his dad was trying because job after job didn't work out like it should have. He was down and out, but he tried. He was an asshole and he was abusive, but maybe some of how he ended up like that was circumstances. It doesn't make it right, but maybe that's part of it. Jason understands his dad was trying to provide in some way and it turned him into an abusive prick and then it got him killed.

Jason knows his mom's addiction didn't help and it didn't make her the best mom. But, he also knows that that was her way of trying to provide because she used to use to function and the addiction set in. She took them to survive in her own way. His uncle drank to survive. That's how it is sometimes. And that's what he saw, everyday, and not just from his own family. It's what he knew and he also grew up knowing, no one is going to help them. Not even Batman. They are on their own.

Jason grew up knowing sometimes people do "bad" things in order to survive and provide, but Bruce never saw that first hand so his morals on Batman are entirely skewed and bias for the sake of upholding the law and putting "bad people" away. But, Jason's views were always landing in a grey area that not all "bad people" are actually bad and deserve to be thrown away. Robin gave him magic but he also had to give up some of his own morals and beliefs in order to wear the cape and mask.

Robin was never really him, either.

“Robin wasn't the real me either.” Jason scoffs.

Your eyes narrow softly at him because it's such an odd comment coming from him. Robin was everything to him before and maybe you do get it. It got him killed, it's different now. There's a lot of bad blood stained over Robin but...you don't entirely think that's true.

“That’s not true. The whole, mansion shit, yeah.” You laugh softly. “But, wanting to be the voice for people who get left behind? Yeah, that’s still you, Jay.” You shrug your shoulders. “You always liked kicking ass, people who deserve it because they did something wrong. Not because you like to fight. I mean, you’re argumentative as fuck, but physically violent, not so much. It’s a misconception that you play into because it’s easier than letting people see the real you or whatever. Robin let you be this hero and you had to roll with Batman and shit, but…you got to help people.” You shake your head. “Like me.” You clear your throat. "That's you." You offer a soft nod at him, chewing the inside of your cheek.

As far as Jason can see, he's never really helped you. Not really. He thinks he's only made everything worse. Between getting kidnapped and making you lose sleep and dying and now everything else. He's pretty sure you were always better off without him. How the hell do you think he actually helped you?

“How the fuck do you figure I helped you?” Jason shakes his head and he definitely is not well enough to be having this conversation.

You think of every way Jason has saved your life, some of the times a little too dark to share with him at the moment. But, you think about them and you think about all the other times where he's helped you, even with small stuff like getting something down from a cabinet. You've never told him but you think one of the reasons you are who you are today is because of him.

You pull the sleeves of your hoodie over your hands. "I felt like maybe the stuff with Jerry was my fault. Spent a lot of time thinking that but...one of the first things you told me was that he was a piece of shit and I didn't deserve it. You didn't even know me. But, it helped and you never made me feel like what happened to me was ever my fault. And uh, you trained me so I wouldn't be scared to leave the tower. Maybe the knives is a thing...or maybe it's because you trained me. Sparred with Gar the other day, I still won. Because you trained me." You suck in a shaky breath, pausing softly. "Um...and I just...I'm alive today because of you." You nod at him once, seeing Jason's face wanting to twist to question it. "So, maybe Robin wasn’t completely the real you, but Robin was enough of the real you. You put yourself into Robin. And you can put yourself into Red Hood. Without Bruce. Without Batman.” You rush your words, making sure Jason can't get a word in. “So, I guess, I’m just saying that you always deserve better, even if you don’t believe me. And I just hope you understand that one day, Jay.”

“Why didn't you ever tell me any of that before?" Jason asks, turning to match your position as his right shin touches yours.

Truthfully, it all seemed too honest. A little too scary to tell him what kind of impact he had on you. It’s more than that, there’s more you haven’t told him as a way to protect yourself and maybe even him. You always felt if you told him those things, maybe it’d change. Maybe it would change how he viewed you and maybe it would change how you felt he viewed you. Maybe he’d feel some sort of obligation and you hate when people feel obligated to you for something. You should know Jason never does something for someone strictly out of obligation, but you feared it anyway. And if you told him, what happens when he doesn’t come home?

Saying everything out loud makes it real. And he didn’t come home anyway.

You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t know.” You keep your thoughts to yourself, knowing if you think too much about everything, the tears will start again. “Uh…I’ll always stay if you ask me to.” You nod your head softly.

Jason watches you carefully and he could always tell when there was more on your mind but it looks like it is physically paining you to even talk about it. The guilt starts to take over and Jason wants you to not be in pain anymore. He'll take it if that's what he has to do, he doesn't care anymore.

“You really shouldn’t.” Jason nearly mutters the words.

You know him better than anyone and that was always what he feared. You know him better than anyone which means he’s more susceptible to getting hurt. He’s already hurt himself enough for the both of you but then everything with Excellent Gotham happened and now you're the one torn between him and everyone else. He’s hurt because you're hurt and that’s all this is turning into.

Maybe a small part of him regrets the two of you, as thankful as he is you're here. As much as he appreciates your company and your kindness, he has crossed the line and maybe had you never gotten together, you wouldn’t be the one in pain. Maybe had you not gotten together, this whole thing would be easier for him. He wouldn’t feel like he let another person down and pushed them to their very brink of existence. He wouldn’t feel like he exposed himself too much to the elements. He’d still feel safe in his bubble of self-destruction and self-hatred. It wouldn’t hurt you.

You're too good anyway.

So, he pushes out of some painful mix of self-preservation and self-destruction.

“You know, uh, I think about that…night with Deathstroke.” You swallow thickly. “Not…not the kidnapping so much anymore but…after.” You stress, looking to your leg and picking at the hem of your pants. “In the bathroom and I don’t know. You pushed and gave me every reason to, uh, to run like I usually do and I know…we did do what we do best in the end but…not…ya know?” You shake your head, looking back at him. “You pushed and I stood there anyway and told you that you matter to me. And it was like…the first time I ever felt like I could stay…if you’d have me.”

Jason’s heart starts to ache from inside of his chest like he’s just been stabbed. Did he make you feel unwanted? That was never it. He was just scared and pushing always seemed easier and you never put up a fight about it. He thought you were on the same page of pushing and running. You both did it until you couldn’t. The risk of everything you both ever feared didn’t seem to matter anymore so you both decided to stay and Jason can’t decide if that was for better or worse. But, he’s looking at the distant look in your eyes and he’s thinking maybe it was for the worse for you. You always made him better.

“Even as a friend. Like I said, I agreed with you and we did what we do best.” You shake your head. “And you did.” You nod your head. “You showed up to my room the next night and I just…” You suck in a deep breath, looking up to the ceiling and back to him. “I knew I could stay. I didn’t have to run from you.” You tug your sleeves over your hands. “So, um…I know you want to,” You nod your head with understanding but your heart is breaking with every second that passes. “But, can…can you please not push me away this time? Please, Jay.” You offer him a sad and weak smile as the lump in your throat starts to grow. “I know things are complicated right now but you’re my best friend and I really miss you.” Your voice cracks as water starts to brim your eyes.

Even after everything, you have a way of getting him to cave. Pushing has always been his best defense mechanism. It has always worked and it has always been easy. It has always hurt him, which was fine because at least it was self-inflicted. But, you make the whole thing hard because it doesn’t just hurt him. It hurts you, too. And Jason knows how badly it hurt when you left. Maybe part of making amends is letting go of bad coping mechanisms. Maybe it’s doing things that hurt and are scary. He does love you and he does miss you, too. He’s tired of being alone and he’s tired of being in pain. And he's tired of putting you through pain. So, he nods.

“I miss you, too." Jason's voice is rough and low but honest and sincere, earning him an almost relieved sigh from you. "I just fucked everything up this time.” Jason says quietly. “Really fucked it up.” Jason nods. “With you and the Titans. How the fuck do I come back from that?”

“You apologize and get clean.” You shrug. “I mean, I’m the only one who really understands it so you just…have to try.”

“That’s it? I try and they welcome me back with open arms?” Jason scoffs at the thought. It’s never that easy. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

"I mean, I'm still welcome to be a Titan and I'm killing people. All of you almost killed Gar." You nod your head quickly. "So, they have to welcome you back because otherwise they're just hypocrites." You offer him a cheeky smile. "You just have to try, Jay. And if that doesn't work, then fuck em." You shrug your shoulders sarcastically. "You still got me and you got Gar." A genuine smile comes to your lips as you rest your hand on top of his.

Jason thinks the simple act alone just lit his entire body on fire so he smiles back, subtle but there. "Yeah, alright." Jason manages a soft chuckle as he shakes his head. “When are you going back?” Jason asks softly, not really wanting you to leave.

“Oh…uh, well, you were just drugged so I thought…I’d hang around if that’s okay.” You chew the inside of your cheek as you pull your hand back into your lap.

Liar.

“What the fuck is going on with you?” Jason asks bluntly. “Don’t pull that bullshit about how you’re just worried about me or whatever. Something’s going on.” Jason can always tell when you're lying and he swears part of that is because you almost never do.

You chew the inside of your cheek and he’s right, something in going on. You've been thinking a lot about how you finally understand it. The whole Bruce and Dick thing. You finally get it and you actually hate it. Of course, understanding Jason is always nice but you hate that you feel that way. Every day since you've watched Jason deteriorate over Robin, you swore you would never be like him or Dick and yet here you are. In the same damn position. And you won’t let that happen. And the more you sit and the more you think about it, the more you wonder if the reason you threw in the towel over Jason is because of your obligation to the Titans.

You have a bigger obligation to Jason and yourself but maybe that played a little bit of a hand. Maybe your loyalty runs a little deeper than you thought because Dick saved your life and brought you into this world. But, you don’t want that. Something has to fucking give and you're not sacrificing your views or your morals anymore. Maybe it’ll be for the better and maybe it’ll be for the worse, but at least you know you're doing something you can live with. At least you're doing it because it’s what you believe in.

You're also still a little mad that Dick was willing to sacrifice Jason if last night wasn't a trap and Crane went off the deep end. There is still that.

“I am, uh, mad at Dick. Shocker, I know.” You crunch your nose before rolling your eyes. “But, um…he said we did a good job last night and I just…felt so validated and I hated that. Because it was more than just being validated, it was being validated by him. And he said it could have been a trap and he's right but he didn't fucking stop me from going. It could have been a trap and I could have been killed, blah blah blah, right? Well, he let me fucking go alone. He didn’t pressure Gar for information. So, I just…I don’t wanna go there. It doesn’t even feel like home anymore fucking anyway. So…yeah.” You rush your words, trying to play it off because you don't particularly want to talk about it.

“So…you’re mad at Dick so you’re just...switching sides?” Jason questions, not really sure he understands why you would do that. "And what the hell would you have done if it were a trap? Hate fucking saying it, but he's kind of right." Jason nearly grimaces at the thought of agreeing with Dick, but it could have been a trap for the Titans. You had no way of knowing otherwise.

“Was I ever really not on your side?” You quip. “No, it’s…” You suck in a breath and you shrug your shoulders. “I know that if you stay off of the drug then you’re you again. That’s where I want to stand and I want to be here when you are clean. You’re where I always want to be.” You nearly whisper. "And, if it were a trap, I knew that if I showed up, you'd do everything in your power to get me out of there. It would never be a trap for me, just the Titans. So, I wasn't worried. I know Excellent Gotham was an accident. Shit happens, but I'm almost always safe with you and I know that." You offer a soft but closed smile. "You and me."

Jason pauses and he thinks back to the day he walked onto the roof. He thinks he’s starting to feel that way again. Worthless, useless, damaged, broken, unloved, unworthy, filled of poison. Everything comes back to him. But, he’s sitting next to you and he also remembers you that day.

You were the only one that stood up for him and you were the only one who came out to the roof to try to talk him down. You're always the only one, if he has no one else, he has you. And he remembers you literally telling him that if you're alive, he’ll never have to be alone. You broke up with him and he’s still not alone. Maybe you're crazy for it but Jason knows in order for you to still be with him, in any context, you're having to sacrifice a lot. In order to make sure you keep that promise to him, you're the one sacrificing yourself and your friends. For some reason, you believe in him so maybe it’s time Jason takes a step back and starts sacrificing, too and believing in himself. If you can, he owes it to you to try, too. It’s supposed to be him and you.

"I'm still really sorry for that." Jason lets out a breath. "But, next time, can you bring someone with you in case it is a trap?" Jason lets out a soft laugh. "I'd never let some shit happen to you but, just in case." Jason nods head quickly, the white streak flopping around slightly.

You let out a laugh as you look down and then back to him. "Yeah, okay because you asked so nicely." You say sarcastically.

Jason shakes his head but his chest is starting to feel a little better. “I’m gonna make it up to you, alright?” Jason says sternly. “Don’t know how yet, but I’m going to. I fucking owe you.”

You offer a soft smile. “I expect a lot of homecooked meals and for you to drive me around.” You nod as a cheeky smile starts to come to your face.

Jason lets out a soft laugh, tilting his head down before he looks back you. “I’m not your personal fucking chef or your chauffeur.”

“Could be so fun, Jay.” Your eyes widen as you shake your head teasingly at him. “Um…” Your brows furrow. “Withdrawal sucks and I know you know that. So, um…if you want to go to Crane and try to get one or two inhalers so you can ween yourself off instead of cold turkey, I get it.” You nod your head. “Um…I mean, I can help if you want.”

Jason nearly does a double-take. “This whole time you’ve been telling me to get off of it and now you’re telling me you’ll help me take it?”

“I also don’t want you miserable.” You state. “I can like hide the inhalers for you and monitor when you get more.”

Jason pauses for a second and maybe it’s a bad idea. The drug makes him a skeleton of who he really is but this is torture, just sitting here. He’s not really sure how he’s supposed to deal with feeling like this for days or maybe weeks. He doesn’t know how long this withdrawal is going to last. All he knows is that it is fucking exhausting and painful. But, maybe if you can help, he won’t fall back into Crane’s hands. If you're willing to stay, he can try.

“Yeah, then I'll be fucking done with his psycho ass.” Jason clears his throat. “Feel like fucking shit.” Jason scoffs. “Meet back here then?”

You nod your head softly. “Yeah, I gotta get back and let Gar know what’s going on, I guess deal with Dick. Blah blah blah.” You laugh softly. “Just…text me if something happens.” You get to your feet. “Don’t do anything fucking stupid until I get back.”

“Don’t do anything fucking stupid while you’re gone.” Jason quips. “Ya know, like using the R blades to kill some fuck.”

You gain a cheeky smile. “Hey, you’re still wearing a bat symbol.” You point at him. “I’m just being an asshole, just like you. Learned from the best, bAbE.” You snark right back at him as you watch him gain that half-cocked, toothy smirk that always made you feel alive. “I’ll be back and try not to take it until I get back.” You nod once at him, keeping your own smirk before you turn on your heels and head for the exit.

You head back to the manor, knowing Dick and Kory will want to know where Jason and Crane are. If you were being honest, you're surprised Gar has been able to keep it a secret. You know it’s a very big ask for him not to tell Dick where or the password into the tablet which you had Gar bring you when he came by just to be sure Dick didn’t get into it while Gar was gone. Letting them know where Crane is, is all fine and well, the issue comes to Jason.

While you appreciate that Dick thinks you and Gar did a good job, there is still a bitterness hugging your chest about the whole thing. It shouldn’t have been up to you. You said you were done and you should have been able to be done but not when no one else is going to do something. You know you never would have taken a backseat anyway, not with Jason being kidnapped and held hostage, but it should have been an option. Jason was in trouble and it was Dick’s responsibility to do something about it. You don’t know where Dick’s head is with Jason now so the last thing you want is for him to know where Jason is hiding out and where Crane is. The last thing you want to do is even work side-by-side with him anymore and if you were a worse person, you’d just kill Crane now and get it all over with. Dick could deal with the cleanup if there is any to be had.

You stop right into your room as soon as you get to the manor. If you're going to help Jason and you're going to stand beside him, you want to be physically there. If you're ditching the Titans, then staying here isn’t really an option. So, you pack a bag with clothes and a charger for your phone before stopping by Jason’s room and picking a few of his favorite pieces of clothes and books. Once you have everything you need, you make your way to the Batcave to grab the case for your suit and extra knives and blades.

Dick, Kory, and Gar are all in the Batcave when you make your way down there. They’re surrounded by the Batcomputer, coming as no surprise to you. But, then they all turn around, eyes landing on you and you tug your backpack harder over your shoulder.

“Yes?” You ask softly.

“How is he?” Gar asks, hope in his eyes as he spins in his chair and gets to his feet.

“Going through withdrawal, looks like shit.” You huff before sucking in a breath. “Got him to eat a little bit though.” You offer a soft smile.

“Does that mean he’s done?” Dick questions.

“Done with the drug, Crane, or Red Hood? Because I’m thinking those are three different answers.” You quip, holding a bit of snark in your voice.”

“All three.” Dick’s voice grows defensive and you were fine last night. Suddenly, you hang out with Jason for one night and you have an attitude again? Seriously?

“No, yes, and probably not. Didn’t talk about Red Hood.”

“Wait, he’s gonna keep taking it?!” Gar practically yells in confusion.

“No.” You answer simply, shaking your head. “He’s just getting a few more inhalers so he can ween off it instead of cold turkey. Withdrawal is bad enough.” You look to Dick who looks like he’s about to have a stroke. “It was my idea if that helps.”

“What?!” Kory and Gar yell at the same time.

“Why would you encourage him to keep taking it?” Dick grabs the bridge of his nose and he's thinking you should have come with migraine medication when he found you in the alley.

“Because quitting some drugs cold turkey can kill you and I don’t know if Crane’s drug falls into that category or not and neither does he. I’d rather we not find out the hard way.” You answer simply, rolling your shoulders.

Gar finally notices the backpack and his heart starts to sink. He’s really hoping you're just bringing Jason some of his stuff and you're not leaving. They’ve already lost so many people, he doesn’t want someone else walking out on them. He knows it has to be really hard for you, but it’s hard for everyone.

“Why do you have a backpack?” Gar asks cautiously.

You tug it over your shoulder a bit more. “Um…I’m gonna stay with Jason for a bit.” You chew the inside of your cheek. “I promise, I was not leaving without telling you. I’m just trying to make sure he’s gonna be alright.” You roll your shoulders and a part of you almost offers to let him come with.

It could be just the three of you again but you would never put Gar in a position where he feels like he has to choose between you and Jason and the Titans. Inviting him, feels like it would put him in that position. And you have no idea what Jason would think of it anyway so you bite it back.

“Are you sure?” Gar asks.

You nod your head softly and you don’t want Gar in the middle of your annoyance with Dick. You know you’ll get over it eventually anyway. “Yeah, maybe I can get something out of him anyway, about if Crane is planning something big and if so, what.” You play it off, realizing this does give you that opportunity.

Dick nods once. “You could just tell us where he’s hiding out and where Crane is.” Dick states simply.

“No.” You shake your head as you start walking over towards the display case where your suit is still in the suitcase beside it.

Dick turns to face you, annoyance written on his face.”Excuse me?”

“I said no.” You say simply. “If you want to argue about it, argue with yourself cause I'm not anymore.” You shrug your shoulders.

Dick sucks in a breath and he can’t believe you’re really doing this again. “Fine, can we speak privately?” Dick asks.

“Come on, Gar.” Kory walks up to Gar, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s go find Conner and Blackfire.” Kory offers a soft smile before they walk off.

You grab the suitcase, walking back towards Dick and then past him. You're ready to get out of here and you know this is going to cause more problems than it’s maybe worth. But, at the end of the day, you swore you’d protect Jason at all costs. Too many people left him exposed to the elements, and you're not going to do that. Dick had his chance to help, too and he left the both of you in the pouring rain and wonders why you’re feeling abandoned.

“I thought you were on our side.” Dick shakes his head. “What’s going on? Did something happen?” Dick asks, this time his voice sounding a little bit more concerned and you almost feel guilty.

“Dude, come on.” You scoff. “I’m on whatever side gets Jason home and safe. You should know that. Nothing happened I just….” You shake your head. “You could have fucking helped last night and you didn’t. For all we knew, Crane could have lost his shit and was gonna kill him.”

“But that didn’t happen.” Dick states. “You said last night he was just tied to a chair and you got him out of there. You and Gar worked together and you both did a good job last night. You didn’t need help.”

“It’s not about if I needed it!” You yell in desperation. “I fucking found his body! Do you really think I’m just fucking fine with that now that he’s alive? Do you really think I want to find him like that again? On my fucking own? That’s what you set me up to do last night. Yeah, he was 'just' tied to a chair, but I also know that fucks with your head, too. He’s your brother who needs fucking help but the only people who are willing at all costs are Gar and me. So, no.” You shake your head. “I’m not gonna tell you until I know he’s safe. You can figure it out and I’ll talk to him anyway. But, I’m not telling you.” You look to the right and then back to Dick. "Did you ever think that he just needs you to show up for him and not out of obligation? Bruce isn't here and this wasn't your fault like Deathstroke. Jason Todd is not hard to figure out."

Dick hangs his head for a second, realizing maybe you make a good point. You shouldn't have had to be the one to go alone. But, Dick didn't even think of the possibility that Jason could have been in real danger. He didn't think of what would happen if he was and you were the one to find him again. Dick's realizing maybe, just maybe, Crane might have had a point a few days ago. Maybe he did abandon Jason.

“I’m sorry.” Dick admits, catching you off-guard. “You’re right. It shouldn’t have been up to and I didn’t think about that.” Dick looks to the ground and back to you. “We’ve all been under a lot of stress lately and we’ve all been through a lot. This is hard for you. We all just want this to be over. I should have gone with you.”

"Thank...you?" You question, a little confused where this version of Dick is coming from. "Look, I think any risk is worth saving him. Last night, though, you made me think that isn't the case for you. So, I can't tell you in order to protect him. But, I'll try to get information about Crane anyway and tell you." You nod your head, swallowing your own pride. "I still want Crane dead and you want him brought in, so we're on the same side there." You start to walk towards the stairs. "Anything else or...can I go?" You ask, feeling, for some reason, obligated to.

"You can go." Dick lets out a sigh. "At least keep up with Gar, he's worried about the two of you." Dick warns, having to suck up his pride, too and put some trust into you this time. You offer him a closed-mouth smile before giving him a thumbs up and heading back upstairs.

Jason is making his way to the pump station where Crane is setting up for their next steps and his teeth grind while his heart races. He swears he has to be running a fever with his head feeling warm, heavy, and cloudy. He isn’t sweating but something about his skin feels like it’s almost been dunked into a pit of oil and it makes his skin crawl. There’s an ache in his back that isn’t painful but isn’t uncomfortable like it’s on the verge of a paralyzing cramp that just won’t come. His hands are starting to shake and the only thing he wants is the damn drug.

There’s a bit of worry in thinking about the drug though. He can’t be who he has been over the last week. He cannot go back to that but he is desperate and scared. Everything is in agony and the guilt is starting to weigh his feet down. The regret feels like cinderblocks resting on his heart. He’s scared he won’t be able to stop and he’s scared if he goes right back to the drug, Crane will get him right back under his wing. He finds himself thinking maybe that’s why you offered to help anyway. So, Crane couldn’t manipulate him anymore. If the only person he’s talking to is you while he’s high, then he doesn’t have too much to worry about. You're not going to manipulate him into killing innocent people. That’s all Crane. So, he sucks up his fear and walks right in, ready to nearly demand the drug from Crane.

Crane has a jackhammer in hand, trying to get through the concrete on the floor. Jason watches him with more aggravation starting to flood into his system. Jason walked in with a mission, sights set on getting one or two inhalers and that’s it. But, he’s standing here and all he wants to do is scream. The anger side of withdrawal is peaking through and he’s thinking he’s going to finally snap if Crane doesn’t hand over an inhaler. The jackhammer is making the headache worse and the shaking starts to intensify. He doesn’t really care about anything else as desperation starts to take over.

“I need more!” Jason yells over the sound of the jackhammer. He thinks his head might explode if Crane doesn’t knock it off.

Crane stops and rests the jackhammer on the ground before looking up to Jason. He gains a delighted smile as he walks closer to Jason, stretching his arms out to his sides.

“You’re back.” Crane says before gesturing his arms inward. “Come on, bring it in.”

The last thing Jason wants to do is hug him. This insane psychopath kidnapped him, drugged, and held him hostage. Jason’s ex-girlfriend had to rescue him. And Crane thinks Jason wants to not only be around him but hug him? He’s lost his fucking mind.

“I need another inhaler, Crane.” Jason demands, keeping his footing a few feet away from Crane.

“Well,” Crane starts as he plops his arms back to his sides. “You’re gonna have to cook it yourself. I’m fresh out.” Crane states as he goes to turn around.

Jason's heart plummets and he’s desperate for more. Crane just can’t be out. He’s the one that’s been having cooks make it. How the fuck is he out? He can’t just be out. So, Jason starts walking closer, spotting a large drum barrel.

“What about that?” Jason points to it.

“That…is too concentrated.” Crane states. “Deadly in its uncut form.”

Jason can feel himself growing more and more aggravated and panicked. It’s more than just the fear creeping in but instead, it’s the fear of withdrawal and the idea of never having the drug again. That’s what he’s starting to panic about. He knows he’s getting off of it. He has to if he wants to get some part of his life back. Crane isn’t stable and while he’s helped him this far, last night happened. Jason needs to get off the drug but he really doesn’t want to do it cold turkey. This is literal hell right now.

“This is a fuck show.” Jason lets out an annoyed sigh as he starts walking closer to Crane to pass by him and leave.

“Jay.” Crane states but it’s more in a warning tone. Jason wants to combust, the nickname sending the anger from the withdrawal into a spin. No one calls him that. “Jaydog.” Crane lifts his voice this time as Jason turns around to face him. “Take heart, my friend. We are just a few swift strokes away from the sweetest comeback the world has ever seen.” Crane leans over on the jackhammer, a menacing look in his eye. “I mean, they’re gonna make a biopic about us. How we met, our ups, our downs…”

“How the Titans wiped us out?” Jason cuts him off knowing the Titans are coming after them and Crane doesn’t seem to be much help.

You can say whatever you want but right now, he’s still being targeted by the Titans because he’s spent the last week targeting them. Jason doesn’t think for a second he can come back from that. That’s why you're suddenly with him through this. A barrier against the Titans.

“Do you remember why we’re here?” Crane asks.

“The details are hazy, Crane. You zombified me, remember that?” Jason quips back and that part is biting at the back of his head.

Crane didn’t have to do it but he did it anyway. He drugged him, held him hostage, then kidnapped him and brought him here. He didn’t even offer a good explanation. But, Jason falls back on him stealing the inhalers from Crane and maybe he deserved some part of it.

“I do remember.” Crane states simply as he furrows his brows. “Well, um, quick refresher course. So, this pump station is perched directly above Courtland Valve station, which controls all of the water supply for all of Gotham. I take my little friends there and I dump it into the water supply and…” Crane states as he fires up the jackhammer again but as he does, he loses control and it goes sputtering to the floor.

Jason bursts out laughing, enjoying the look of shock on Crane’s face but his laughter starts to die down when Crane also starts laughing. Something about the look he gives Jason and the way he laughs, it almost reminds of him Dr. Light when Jason had him pinned. When Deathstroke held a sword to your face. And suddenly, he’s worried again.

“You think that’s funny?” Crane asks through his laughter. “Just wait until you see what we’re gonna do to Gotham when we’re done here.” Crane says as he circles around Jason, standing behind him and wrapping an arm around his neck as he chuckles. “Gotham is going to destroy itself.” Crane boasts as he walks back over to his place by the jackhammer. “House by house, family by family.” Crane laughs and Jason doesn’t want that.

It was never supposed to be about destroying Gotham. It was about protecting Gotham. Doing the things Bruce would never do and couldn’t do and refused to do. It was about actually taking care of the people in the city who aren’t on Bruce’s radar, the people who get left behind by the GCPD. It was supposed to be about them, not this. This isn’t what Jason wanted to do.

“This plan is a fucking joke, Crane.” Jason states. “And so are you.”

“Me?” Crane questions and Jason thinks he might sound a little hurt. “But I reached over to the other side, dragged you back to the living…” Crane states and you were the one who said Crane was using him. Maybe you're right.

Up until this moment, Jason thought that couldn’t be true. Why would Crane use him? Crane’s been telling him this whole time he cares about him and he wants to help him in the way Bruce and Dick refused to help and couldn’t help. They could be a team, better than Batman. But, if Crane wasn’t really using him, why would he bring up bringing him back from the dead? Which Jason never fucking asked for anyway.

“So you could use me.” Jason states a sort of venom in his voice.

“Yes, so I could use you.” Crane answers nonchalantly as if Jason should have known the answer.

And Jason’s heart sinks further. It was never about helping him. It was about helping Crane help himself. You were the one who was right this time. Crane has been using him this whole time. Jason’s been a pawn in his game and it stings. It’s the same story over and over. Jason gives him all to someone and something and it all ends up backfiring, they use him and throw him away like he’s trash. Just like this.

“Life is transactional, my dear boy.” Crane states. “Well, I gave you life. You gave me secrets about Batman and Dick Grayson and the girlfriend, er, ex-girlfriend? And uh, what was his name? Hank?”

Jason has had it. Today is not the day to mess with him and Crane bringing up him betraying everyone for him is setting him off. It never should have had to be transactional. Yes, Jason should have known better. He knew the exchange was secrets for the formula. It was the drug and then they’d work together. Jason knew that part of it but he didn’t think his life was a part of that transaction. He doesn’t want his damn life to be transactional. He doesn’t want to sell himself for a drug and secrets and the destruction of Gotham and the Titans. That’s not who he is and that’s not who he wants to be. On top of that, Jason’s sick and tired of Crane thinking he can just bring up his one line and get off. You were always supposed to be off limits anyway and everything is sending Jason right over the edge.

Jason grabs Crane by the collar and spins them around, slamming Crane’s back against a few boxes as he holds him there. He’s done working with Crane and letting Crane think he’s the one running the show. Jason is not going to be his pawn anymore. If he wants to take down Gotham, that’s on him. Not Jason.

“I’m done telling secrets!” Jason yells, jaw clenched and knuckles turning white. “Done being fucking used!” Jason yells as he punches Crane in the face twice and then lets him go.

Crane looks up at him, something menacing and bored in his eyes. “You done?” He asks as he spits blood onto the ground.

“Almost.” Jason states plainly. “Bring her up again and I’ll fucking kill you.” Jason says harshly, his jaw squaring and a burning hatred washing over his usually bright eyes. Crane opens his mouth to say something but Jason moves forward and uses most of his strength to take another hit to Crane’s face, this time the hit is enough to knock him unconscious. “Now, I’m done.” Jason says as he leaves Crane on the ground and heads out, desperate to find something that’s going to take the edge off of everything that’s clouding him right now.

He’s supposed to meet back up with you, but at this point, he’s not sure he can stomach it. In the moment, it seemed fine. It was nice not to be alone and to not feel so alone. But, right now, it’s as if he swears it’s the only thing he really deserves with the withdrawal kicking in full force. You will try to make it all better and he knows for a fact he doesn’t deserve for it to be better again. He needs to figure out what he’s going to do and how. How he’s going to come back from everything. You just said he had to try but he doesn’t know how to try. What he’s become goes against everything that’s been engrained into him over the last few years.

Bruce swore killing was wrong and using excessive force was wrong. But, now Jason is the one with guns killing people and decapitating them just for extra threatening measure. Maybe he didn’t always agree with Bruce’s point of view but that’s what a hero, a vigilante, Robin was supposed to do. Not kill. Not use excessive force. There was one way and one way only. Jason was murdered anyway and he thinks maybe, this isn’t all wrong because it is for the greater good of Gotham. But, it haunts him anyway because of how he got here, what led him here. He was murdered and Bruce couldn’t kill the Joker for him and his death was preventable. His death was preventable in every way but he died anyway. He’s the one left with those physical and mental scars, not Bruce.

Jason thinks it’s different when death happens to you. But, Jason didn’t go after Two-Face. He didn’t go after Mr. Freeze or Penguin or Bane or the Riddler. Jason went after the drug side because of Crane. Maybe he would have done it anyway, but it was because of Crane so Crane could run his own drugs without them getting in the way. It wasn’t about protecting people. It was about distribution. So, he thinks about his younger self. The younger self that took care of his mom and didn’t entirely hate his dad for everything. And he wonders how much his younger self would hate who he’s become.

His younger self would hate the killing and the drugs and the betrayal. He’d hate turning from a hero to a villain and he’d hate how he went and fucked up such a good thing with so many people. Sure, the Titans weren’t always nice or understanding, but they had smoothed things out. And things did feel okay with them. And he was safe and warm and healthy and he had someone, he had people, who cared about him and tried their best to take care of him, something his younger self would have loved to have even if he never admitted it. Jason could have had it all but it just wasn’t enough. He was selfish and entitled and impatient, just like Dick and Bruce said. He was hard-headed and stubborn. It got him killed and it got him put in this position and he thinks his younger self might think he were better off staying dead.

Maybe he would be.

So, he digs out of his phone and sends a quick text to you. And then he waits.

An hour later, Jason sees you walking towards him as snow starts to fall from the gloomy sky. He swallows the lump in his throat as you get closer. You offer him a soft smile, hands dug deep into your pocket once you close the distance between you.

“You know it’s freezing, right?” You quip, seeing your breath in the space between you.

He didn't say much in the text. It was just that he didn't want to sit around the hideout and he needed to be out. He followed that text asking if you'd want to walk with him for a while.

“Yeah, and I’m still fucking sweating.” Jason rolls his shoulders, shaking his head.

“Ew.” You laugh softly. Jason’s eyes narrow at you as you shrug, a gentle smile on your lips. “Thanks for texting me.” You nod your head once.

If you were being honest, you're surprised he did. A very large part of you expected him to not come back to his hideout and avoid you. You really would understand if he did at this point. It has to be really difficult for him, especially coming down from both the anti-fear drug and whatever Crane gave him last night. But, you're really glad he texted anyway.

Jason lets out a breath, a cloud leaving his lips from the cold air. “Thanks for coming.” Jason nods.

“What’d Crane say?” You ask hesitantly, seeing the brown paper bag in his right hand.

“That he’s fresh out.” Jason scoffs. “Load of shit, obviously.”

“What a piece of shit.” You scoff right back. “He fucking sucks.” You roll your eyes, split between worried something bad is going to come from cold turkey withdrawal and relieved the risk of him falling back into Crane's hands is gone.

“Yeah.” Jason nods his head in agreement before the two of you start walking with no destination in mind.

“He say anything else?” You ask.

Jason bites back the pain in his chest and the burning of his eyes with your words. It’s a harsh reminder that he was never brought back because he was wanted. He wasn’t brought back because he was loved and cared about. He was brought back to be used and it was all always conditional. There were conditions to his life. His own breath was traded for secrets and death and betrayal. How can he live knowing his life is now tainted with innocent blood?

“Yeah.” Jason gets a distant look in his eyes as he brings the covered bottle to his lips and takes a drink.

“Which was…?” You ask softly, almost afraid of what Crane could have said.

“That he was using me the whole time.” Jason spits the words out and you swear you can see his eyes start to water against the city streetlights. “You were right.”

“For the record, I really wish I weren’t.” You scoff. “What? He just he was using you…just like that?” You question and you know Crane is a prick and he uses people. But, Jason really believed in him and that's the part that hurts.

“Pretty much.” Jason shakes his head, sucking in a deep breath as if the cold air biting his vocal cords will make it easier to talk. “Bringing me back was transactional.” Jason’s voice goes quiet and you think you heard his heart break.

You knew before, but this is further confirmation that Jonathan Crane is a monster. You're looking at Jason Todd who always just wanted to be enough and just wanted to be loved and Crane weaponized that just like Bruce. But worse. You knew Crane didn’t bring Jason back from the dead out of the kindness of his own heart but you're furious and devastated to be right. You're pissed that he would even tell Jason that.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him.” You mutter, looking forward which earns you an immediate glance from Jason.

“Why? He didn’t do anything.” Jason nearly mocks the very idea.

“Because he just told you that the reason you’re alive is because he needed something from you.” You bite back, a venom and fury in your voice as you look at Jason. “That’s fucked up. I don’t care if it’s true. You don’t tell someone that. And I wanna kill him anyway for everything he’s done to you. But, that’s a good enough reason to me.” The anger in your voice actually surprises Jason. Of course, he's hurt by the ordeal, but he's watching you grow more and more angry over it. He's never had someone be like over something someone else did to him.

“I don’t know why it even fucking matters anymore. I did all of this shit for him.” Jason huffs taking another drink. “How it always is anyway, right?” Jason lets out a hollowed chuckle. “Like I told you, people always want something in exchange for something else.” Jason mutters and he thinks Crane has a point. Life is transactional, he just wishes his literal life wasn’t.

You stop walking, Jason walking a few feet in front of you. You hadn’t thought about that conversation in months. It was the first time you ever promised him something. You promised you’d never make a promise to him you couldn’t keep and you’d never make one just to get something from him. Then he promised he wouldn’t tell anyone about the boot print bruise on your back. Things did not seem so simple then, but they sure as shit do now. And your heart starts to break even more, realizing that he really, truly trusted Crane. You have no idea why but he did. That’s not for you to judge but he trusted him and Crane only brought him back because he needed something from him. He is just another person that has made Jason Todd feel like there is some sort of condition to his love. And that’s just not fair.

“What?” Jason asks, turning around to look at you.

“You know I love you still, right?” You ask quietly.

Jason shakes his head in confusion, eyes darting up the sky and then back to you. He isn’t sure exactly how to respond to the question. You told him you do. That’s not the same as him believing you though. It’s hard for him to feel like anyone actually loves him right about now. He doesn’t even like himself right now. And with everything Crane just said to him, he’s thinking that maybe you're just saying it so Jason doesn’t walk onto a roof.

“Jay?” You ask quietly. “You know that, right?” Your eyes scan over his face but you don’t see any sign of him acknowledging the question. “Okay, well, I still love you.” You nod your head with confidence. “And if I would have known how to bring you back, I would have done it. Because I love you and I care about you and you deserve to live.” You close the distance between you. "And...you don't owe me shit for it, either. I don't expect anything from you. It's not conditional or transactional for me, okay?"

The last thing you want is for Jason to feel like he's unloved. It's messy as fuck right now and he has a lot to make up for but he's loved anyway. Crane loves to manipulate people and make them feel like they're alone. You can't imagine what the fuck telling Jason he wasn't even wanted back would do but you have to believe Crane had a fucking purpose. So, it doesn't matter where you and Jason stand or what's left of you. You will stand here in the freezing cold all night with him and tell him you love him. Because on days when you felt unloved and unlovable, you had Jason who always countered those thoughts without ever knowing. So, you will always do the same. He deserves it.

Jason’s breath starts to shake as he looks down at you and his chest hurts. He thinks someone might as well be reaching through his ribs and squeezing his own heart until it explodes. You're the only one that has ever made him feel wanted and loved without conditions.

“After everything?” Jason almost scoffs but he can’t quite bring himself to. You look desperate. “Fucking why?” The question almost comes out as a plea.

“Because loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” You nod your head once and this is different than the first time you said it. 

The first time was on accident and you were very clearly terrified. It was something you never intended to ever tell him but it slipped out in a fit of desperation so he’d stop beating himself up. This time though, it is said with confidence and reassurance as if the words were almost meant to leave your lips for only him. And it starts to defrost Jason’s heart, the pain easing in his chest because he knows you mean it.

Jason rests his forehead against yours, his eyes closing and it’s like it's easier to breathe again. He wants to kiss you again. It’s never easy for him to say what he thinks or what he feels but he’s always been able to show it with you. This time though, that is no longer his place. It doesn’t matter that you love him because you are broken up. He can’t overstep that line even if he wants to. The most he can do is rest his forehead against yours and that’s always been just enough.

A smile pulls at your lips before you wrap your arms around his shoulders, moving your head to rest in the crook of his neck. Jason’s hands come to your hips and suddenly, it’s like the first day of spring. The air isn’t suffocating or painful. It is fresh and clean, smooth and soft. It’s easy to breathe again and the suffocating coldness lifts from your chests. All it is is warm and welcoming. Just like home.

“Thank you for coming.” Jason mutters into your neck.

“You and me.” You mutter right back, Jason’s hands squeezing around you just a little tighter.

You pull away first, a loving smile on your lips and for just a second as you rest your hand on his cheek, you almost forget you ended things. This, right now, feels like it did before he died. And you almost forget and you almost kiss him to make it all not so heavy. But, it’s just a second and then you remember which means that isn’t your place anymore and you don’t know if it ever will be. So, you drop your hand, the smile falling slightly. You look to your left, sucking a breath but then your brows furrow.

“Is that Dick?” You question, bursting the bubble between the two of you.

Jason turns, following your stare. “Fuck.” Jason groans just as Dick seems to spot the two of you, too because he lifts the face shield of his helmet.

“We should get out of here.” You reach down for Jason’s free hand, interlocking your fingers with his.

“Yeah, fuck that.” Jason nods quickly in agreement as the two of you start to walk away but before you could get far, Dick tries to run the red light after you only to get hit by a car going through the green.

You and Jason look between each other before you both let out a breath and start your walk over to Dick to see if he’s okay. You both walk over as Dick rolls over to face you. You roll your eyes and grab your phone from your pocket to call an ambulance while Jason looks down at him. He finds the whole thing a little ironic. Dick is on the ground, clearly out of it and hurt and he could kill him right now. He’s been trying for a week to kill Dick and now is the perfect opportunity but the only reason he’s even thinking about it is because of the irony. He doesn’t even really want Dick dead. Not when he’s clean.

You kneel down, putting a hand on Dick’s shoulder. “Ambulance is on the way, I texted Kory and Gar to let them know. You’re an idiot.” You nod at him.

“What…?” Dick asks, looking from you to Jason and then back to you. Dick knows he has a concussion but he’s lost on why Jason is just standing in front of him and why you don’t even seem mildly concerned about what’s going on. What the hell is going on? “Jason?”

You look behind you and Jason’s heart sinks. “Yeah?” You question, looking back to Dick. “You ran into oncoming traffic.” You state sternly as you hear sirens starting to approach. You can see the lights just down the street. “Don’t do anything drastic like die on the way to hospital.” You say softly before you get back to your feet and walk back to Jason. “Let’s go.”

“What? You’re gonna leave him like that?” Jason asks with surprise, that’s unlike you.

“The ambulance is right there.” You point to the flashing lights. “He’ll be fine.” You nod your head once, reaching down for Jason’s hand once more, this time Jason takes it carefully before the two of you head off in the opposite direction.

The two of you get back to Jason's hideout, not having said much to each other on the cold walk over. You both convince yourselves it was all out of self-preservation rather than self-destruction. You follow Jason to the room he led you to last night where he plops down on the mattress still laid out on the floor.

Something about it feels weird because feelings are out in the open unlike before. They were said last time and something came from it but this time, they're words hanging in the air, following them back. Jason doesn't know what to say anymore and you think you've exposed yourself too much again. Nothing can happen between you now, not with everything going on and even if you both want something happen, is that for the best?

It's like something should be happening in the space between you but nothing does because it's all been said and done before. Neither of you quite know where you should stand or where you should lay your hearts to rest. So, it feels weird and it's quiet, both of which are things neither of you like very much between each other.

You shift on your heels, looking around the room. "I, uh, I brought you some more clothes and...stuff." You say softly, nodding towards your backpack near the dresser. You had dropped it off earlier when you were supposed to meet back here.

"Oh, uh, yeah no thank you." Jason nods his head at you and the awkwardness makes him want to chew his own arm off.

"You're welcome." You suck in a breath, looking around the room some more. "Not quite Wayne Manor, huh?" You ask, looking back to Jason.

"It's a roof." Jason shrugs a shoulder casually.

He should have said it back and he knows he should have. But, the words stick to the back of his throat, holding his vocal cords captive. While he gets it, he is still hurt by you leaving him. He knows he deserves it and you had every right to. You should still be gone. He gets it. But, he can still hear the heartbroken laugh you let out echoing in his head and the words that followed and it fucking hurts. He's forgiven you already but...the pain is there anyway. Jason knows he'll get over it but he isn't there yet so the words choke his vocal chords and the air is stiff and awkward between you.

"Yeah." You nod your head before you look back at him. You cannot take this anymore. It has almost never been awkward between you and you can't stand it. The whole thing would be easier if it were easier to just talk about everything. But, that seems too heavy right about now. So, you walk over to your backpack, plucking it from the ground. You walk in front of Jason and crouch down, unzipping your backpack before you pull out a book. "I thought it might help." You hand it over, your hands shaking slightly.

A soft smile starts to pull at Jason's lips as he takes the book from you. "Raided my whole room, huh?"

You grin, mostly to yourself. "Yeah, kind of." You laugh softly. "Brought these, too." You smile widely, pulling out a few more books and handing them over.

Jason looks over his favorite books, you picking up Pride and Prejudice and Frankenstein for him of course, but the pick of The Fellowship of the Ring does not go unnoticed. Jason really likes it, sure, but there are other books he's read more around you. He almost laughs at you grabbing this one. And something about the whole thing, makes him feel loved again.

He looks back to you and your eyes are bright just as they always were around him and your smile is turning into something cheeky, as if you know you've just won something Jason isn't aware of. You say loving him is easy and he always finds it so hard to believe, especially right now. But, he looks over the cover of the books and then back to you, and it really is just that easy to you. And while you may need to talk eventually and this whole thing is fucked up and messy, maybe some sort of feeling of how it used to be, would be nice.

He always felt loving you was the easiest thing he'd ever done, too.

So, he smirks back at you.

"You don't have to try so damn hard." Jason quips. "Fucking try-hard."

Your jaw drops as you let out a laugh. "Fuck you! Look who's talking! You're the biggest fucking try-hard I ever met!"

"Bullshit!" Jason laughs. "You were the one who told me with Deathstroke that I wasn't trying hard enough!" Jason fires right back, hoping he can get you to keep laughing. He's really missed your laugh.

You burst into a fit of laughter, almost forgetting about that comment he made. You told him he was the one that needed to get laid and he told you he'd been trying. The comment was never brought up again. Partially because Jason was dropped fifteen stories and partially because it wasn't worth the risk of bringing up if it was a serious comment or not. But, you find the whole thing funny now.

"Well, it was true!" You bite back. "You were an asshole half the damn time!" You know, asshole or not, all Jason had to do was ask and you would have gotten right into bed with him without a second thought. Not that you will ever give him the satisfaction of knowing that though.

"Playing the long game, babe." Jason defends his stance, a smirk dancing over his face as he gestures his hand out to the side.

"I'd fucking say!" You let out a chortle.

"Worked for a while, didn't it?" Jason says and it almost grows sour on his tongue but that's not how he meant the comment. "I mean, had you practically begging a few times." The smirk switches into something sinister and teasing. The confidence radiates off him just like it always did before and you think you could go back and forth like this all night and maybe it would fix everything.

You feel heat start to rise to your cheeks. "Okay listen."

Jason bursts into a fit of laughter and you think it's still the most beautiful sound you've ever heard. "Uh-huh. I'm listening, babe. All fucking ears." Jason nods his head quickly, knitting his brows together but the smirk is practically glued to his face as if he knows he's just won.

"Fuck you." You nod your head quickly, shrugging your shoulders. "I fucking won! Remember that? I do so everything else, bullshit. I won." You cross your arms over your chest.

Jason's smile starts to soft and tender as he nods his head. "Yeah, guess you did." He says softly.

This feels normal. It feels like it did before, just joking. Sure, being together was better because you could joke and know something else was on the other end of it. The joking as friends was always just fun and that's how this feels again. Fun. And warm. It doesn't feel so heavy at the moment and neither of you feel so alone and you can see it in the way he looks back to the books. You can hear it between the lines of his words because Jason Todd doesn't take losing lightly. You don't particularly want this moment to end. Instead, you want to push it a little bit. Letting him know silently that if even a small part of him is willing, maybe there's hope to get back to how you were before.

"Exactly." You match the softness of his voice. "And you know what, I bet I could get you to cave again." You hold your head with confidence.

Jason pauses for a second, narrowing his eyes at you, unsure if this is a trick. "You really sure about that?" Jason challenges, taking the bait as he leans forward towards you slightly. He, for one, is not going to risk this getting heavy again and you always had a habit of backing out when he actually challenged you.

It's not just you who's been craving this. He has, too. Your game always made him feel wanted and loved and cared for, even before he realized it. That's part of what made it fun for him. And maybe it's too soon to jump into it and maybe you have other things you need to sort out first, but that's not a tonight problem. Tonight's problem is finding a way to deal with the withdrawal and self-hatred burying itself into his bones. Tonight is just about existing with each other for the first time since he's been brought back.

You meet Jason right in the middle, closing most of the distance between you. "Positive." You nod just once.

Jason glances to your lips and then back to you. "I'll take that bet."

You shake your head as a soft laugh escapes your lips. "Alright, Jay. Bet's a bet." You roll your eyes, sticking out your hand and Jason shakes it. "I will never let you win because you will be surely insufferable."

Jason lets out a booming laugh. "Absolutely. I'll never let you live it down. Glad you understand that."

"Shut the fuck up." You lean back on your hands as you roll your eyes. You pause, watching him take a drink from the bottle he's been nursing. He doesn't look too uncomfortable now and the awkwardness has evaporated into ease and comfort. "Hey, Jay?" Sam calls softly.

"You told me to shut the fuck up." Jason quips, not missing a single beat.

"Insufferable." You repeat casually as you nod your head quickly.

"What?" Jason asks softly.

"Wanna read to me?" You ask as hesitance starts to take over your voice. Jason's smile turns soft as he looks to the bottle in his hand and then back to you. He knows he will always read to you whenever you ask. "I mean, if you're up for it. I know you said you feel like shit. I can...try to read to you instead, if you want."

Jason almost forgot he felt like shit. You have always known exactly what to do to distract him from everything horrible going on. It makes him feel even worse over the whole ordeal because while a distraction isn't always the best coping mechanism, it would have been better than everything else he ever did. You always knew how to make the world not feel so heavy and you do it even now and Jason doesn't even think you realize you do it. You just do as if it's in your nature. And he feels better. Somehow.

"Come on." Jason jerks his head towards the bed as he puts the bottle off to the side before grabbing one of the books. He slides himself back until his back hits the cool wall.

"Really?" You ask with hope in your eyes.

"I owe you, yeah. I can read to you." Jason nods his head once before he opens the book, trying to play off how fast his heart is starting to race.

You smile widely before you climb onto the bed with him, sitting right next to him on your knees. You hesitate for a second because it's not like it was before. Before, you were friends. You were at least friends. And maybe you're friends now, but you're also exes and that feels like it makes it complicated. Last night, Jason was high and devasted. That was different than this. This suddenly feels personal and vulnerable again and you aren't sure you're supposed to be here like this. Not when you broke him.

"You gonna just sit like that or?" Jason questions, a tint of hope in his words because he wants you closer, he's just not sure if that's too invasive now. So, he plays it off just as he's always done as if that's a signal to you that it's okay because you always understood that part of him. "Not gonna fucking bite you." Jason quips, a tint of sarcasm in his voice. "That's your thing."

You shake your head, doing a double take. "Um, last time I checked, you were into it." You blink at him just as Jason looks back to you. He gains a shit-eating grin, shrugging his shoulder slightly. "Yeah, exactly. And you fucking branded me once, remember that?" You point out the time Jason littered you in hickies.

Jason's head hits the wall behind him as he lets out a booming laugh, the sound reverberating off the walls. His nose scrunches and you think he's never looked more at peace right now. It's as if he is so proud of himself.

"Yeah, and you were into it, too." Jason lets out a scoff and you want to both kiss and bite the smirk off his face.

Jason looks back to you and you're sitting close, faces just inches from each other. You're looking at with him the fake scowl you always did when you knew you wouldn't have any type of comeback and you'd have to cave and tell him to go fuck himself. But, then Jason sees the corner of your mouth twitch into something cheeky and taunting. And he swears he has never been so captivated by someone before.

"Yeah, I was." You nod your head, throwing Jason the bone as you laugh.

"Fucking exactly." Jason's voice is low this time, brows pulling together.

You glance to his lips and you almost just bite the damn bullet. But, that might ruin what you're doing right now, so you roll your eyes. "Fuck you." Sam scoffs as Jason gains his signature triumphant grin.

"Time and place, babe." Jason beams right back at you.

"Insufferable." You repeat as a warm smile replaces the smirk. "Okay," You suck in a breath. "So, we lay like we always did before?" You ask, chewing the inside of your cheek as your eyes widen slightly with hope.

It hurts a little bit that you're hesitant and Jason knows that's on him. You've never been hesitant in showing him physical affection. Even the first night he read to you, the only reason you stood there is because you were confused as to what Jason was doing. But, the second he asked you to sit, sarcastically with a  bite in his voice, you went right to him and cuddled into his side. It has always been that easy and that simple. It should be that way, still. Regardless of everything that's happening. You both can keep that part of you and him.

So, he extends his arm.

"You don't have to ask." Jason states simply and casually because it should always be that simple.

"I just don't want to overstep." You mutter softly, dodging his eyes.

"You can't overstep." Jason almost whispers right back, no sarcasm or bite or snark in his tone.

Things might be hard and Jason might want to push and run and scream and break. He might feel far too exposed again and scared of getting hurt again and scared of everything, but you're the one person who can never overstep. You can do whatever you want and say whatever you want and ask whatever you want.

You give him this genuine and joyful smile as your face softens. "You can't either." You nod your head softly. You scoot down so you can rest your head on his shoulder, placing your arm over his stomach and you feel him relax right under you. He still feels warm and safe, just as he did before.

Once you're comfortable against him, Jason swears this is the safest he has felt since coming back. It is the most comfortable he has felt. He doesn't remember what it was like last night but tonight, he knows he can just exist with you. There are no obligations to anyone or anything. And relief fills his blood, his entire body falling into a state of relaxation and he hadn't even realized he hasn't relaxed at all since coming back. Maybe this is what you both really need. Just one night of normalcy for you both and comfort and safety. Just him and you.

"Thanks again for coming." Jason whispers above your head.

"Always." You whisper right back, running your thumb along the fabric of his hoodie covering his torso. Jason sucks in a breath, running his hand along your hoodie-covered shoulder before Jason's voice about Bilbo's birthday starts to fill the room.

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[destinygoldenstar]

“Feeling like you’re nothing is… kinda normal. If people even feel like that in the world I came from.”

TW: DISCUSSIONS OF SUICIDE

So this line specifically has been on my mind.

Obviously Pomni does not outright say she’s depressed. But she doesn’t need to. The show trusts us to pick it up for ourselves.

At first I thought it was just trauma, because… DUH. WHAT HAPPENED.

She experiences nightmares, she has zone outs, she closes herself off from her peers, panic attacks, etc. All pretty real responses to a traumatic event.

BUT THEN WE HAVE THIS LINE.

Now, I wouldn’t think too much of it if she said “In the world I COME from.” Present tense. So that would indicate she’s talking about the circus.

But she uses PAST TENSE here.

“In the world I CAME from.”

So she’s not talking about the circus.

We know she’s not because we know she was once a human in the real world.

Gooseworx confirmed that the Digital Circus characters DO remember their past lives, just not the key identify-defining details like their names. Which makes sense cause, well, if they had full amnesia they wouldn’t know they came from anywhere else at all.

So this implies she’s talking about her life in the real world before this.

So this may indicate that in the real world, human Pomni had anxiety & depression.

A theory someone else said, but I liked and could see being possible, was that each Digital Circus character represents certain mental illnesses. (My idea: Pomni - Generalized Anxiety & Major Depression Disorder, Ragatha - Separation Anxiety Disorder, Jax - Sociopathy, Kinger - Schizophrenia, Gangle - Bipolar Disorder, Zooble - Dysphoria) While it is questionable for some characters whether they experienced these in the real world or they gained them in the circus (Kinger is probably one of the latter’s case), considering Pomni’s new to the circus, it’s easy to assume the former. You don’t develop these mental problems overnight.

So here’s my theory: Human Pomni was an accountant at C&A, and got her hands on the information of the Digital Circus. As in, she knew EXACTLY what it would do to her…

…but she put the headset on anyway as an act of suicide.

This could be proven wrong in a future episode, but that is my belief on what happened to her. Would also explain how she had a vague idea on how the video game’s outside maps worked.

BUT, you may be asking, “If Pomni knew and did it as sudoku, why would she want to leave immediately?”

Survival reflex. (And I’m partially thinking about that Bojack Horseman speech at the penultimate episode of that show. You know the one.) It IS a thing for someone to attempt suicide, and then change their mind on it pretty quickly, whether it be the pain that came with it, or the fear of death. And this is in both cases whether the attempted succeeds or fails at the deed.

So the beginning of the show could be Pomni’s brain, scattered as it is, experiencing just that.

“Wait a minute. I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to end it. I have to stop myself!”

But it’s too late.

She made her choice. She didn’t want to be ‘her’ anymore.

So she put the headset on.

She did the act.

There’s nothing she can do about it.

And since she TECHNICALLY isn’t dead, this is her processing her own existence, old and new, and what to do with it now.

THAT’s another reason why she has that nightmare about abstracting. Which could easily be seen as ‘mental suicide.’

A horrifying image on the outside. And on the inside, an image that’s far too real for her.

But she doesn’t have to have that be her fate.

There are people to help her and there are people that WOULD care if she dies.

Her story is about fighting the worst thoughts known to mankind and come out of that fight as a more emotionally realized person. As someone who wants to live. As someone who ISN’T nothing.

(This is a theory. Is open to be wrong.)

[osleeplessflowero]

//Content Warnings: Blood, Violence, Drinking//

* Notes: - Gender Neutral Reader - Determination Soul ❤️

~"Knife" To Meet'cha🔪🌹~

The chill in the night air causes you to shiver as you hold your jacket closer to your body in an attempt to keep warm. The cold isn't the only thing giving you chills, however. Your eyes dart around, an uncomfortable feeling unable to be shaken no matter how hard you try to.

You can feel it..eyes on you in the shadows. Someone watching, waiting for the right moment to strike and catch you off guard. But they won't get you..not if you have anything to say about it. You pick up your pace, briefly spotting a silhouette walking behind you. Their speed picks up as well, sending you into a panic. You sprint under the streetlights, hoping you can find a local business that's still open to hide in.

"Running is just gonna make this worse for you!" The figure calls, making you furrow your brows. You take a few turns in an attempt to cut them off, frowning further when you realize you've hit a dead end. Of course this would be your luck.. you reluctantly turn to face the group of three men standing before you.

They're tall, intimidating. People you're all too familiar with around here, people who you've been told to avoid at all costs. And now you're face to face with them.

"We heard you were the one that killed our business partner. Our boss wasn't too happy about that."

"It was in self defense, he attacked me fir-" You're cut off.

"You wanted his money. That's always what it's about." The tall figure in the middle takes a puff from his cigarette. You scrunch up your nose at the smell. "I don't see why we shouldn't get payback for him..a life for a life."

"You wouldn't kill me out here- n-not where people can see you. It's stupid-"

"Call me a fool, but you're dyin' one way or another- I don't give a damn who sees."

Your eyes widen as they begin to close in on you, cornering you. You look around, praying to someone above and asking- no, pleading for a way out of this encounter.

A knife is thrown from above, landing at your feet. You look down at it in shock, trying to see who threw it, but unable to spot anyone amongst the shadows. Not wanting to waste time, you pick up the blade.

Killer has never grown tired of the air of the city hitting his clothes, making them flow as he soars over the rooftops, doing a bit of parkour and showing off as much as he'd like. Of course he has business in this universe, assigned personally by Nightmare to kill a target and spread negativity while he's at it. A typical Tuesday, in his eyes. Nothing too out of the ordinary. A few minutes prior he managed to successfully kill his target, and now was just..well, looking for trouble.

He kneels on the edge of one of the higher buildings of the city, looking for people to kill in order to invoke fear in those around them. There's not a lot of people out due to how late it is, making the chase harder.. He huffs, annoyed that there's nothing fun to do out here. Well, other than be a super cool guy, but that's all the ti-

He spots a group of humans chasing another, raising a browbone in curiosity. Oh? Gang stuff? He wonders what the person being chased could've done in order to piss three people off at the same time. Narrowing his eyesockets, he decides to do a CHECK to see.

Now that's interesting. Seems they've got some blood on their hands.. a pity they're about to die. Or..hmm. What if he just slightly interferes? Purely out of boredom, of course. He can kill somebody else later. Summoning a random knife, he holds up his arm, carefully aiming before throwing the blade down. Call it an experiment. He certainly hasn't done one of those in ages.

You spot the knife when it lands on the ground, picking it up with a Determined expression. Now this'll be fun..

You move one of your legs back, entering a fighting stance. The man in front of you spots your weapon, and upon trying to grab it from your hands, is met with a slash across his chest from you. Your eyes illuminate with a bright shade of red, an indicator that your Soul is ready for battle. It all happens so fast, you don't even realize how quickly and swiftly you're moving.

Charge, dodge, counter, stab.

One of the men cries out when you stab him somewhere fatal, knocking him onto the ground with your foot and finishing him off.

Charge, dodge, counter, slash.

You turn your head rapidly, slashing one of the other men that attempted to sneak up on you from behind. You continue the motion until he is no longer able to stand. Backing up a bit, you look confused as to where the biggest of the three had went-

"hey, heads up!" You hear someone shout from above, jumping out of the way of a massive blow to the head. Thanks, stranger.

Tightening your grip on the knife, you lunge at the man, pushing yourself up on his shoulders and launching into the air. He lets out a gasp of shock as you rise, Killer grinning wide as you fall rapidly down, plunging the knife through his head and sending you both to the ground. Pulling the knife out, you come back to your senses..your eyes returning to their natural hue. You drop the knife instinctively, leaning over and debating throwing up or not.

"not too bad."

You look over immediately, spotting a skeleton monster leaning against one of the closest buildings. He looks over you with a smug grin, a browbone raised. "a little amateur, but pretty good nonetheless."

"..You gonna snitch?" You ask, cautious around this stranger.

"nah. i'm not a snitch." He chuckles. "i'd like my knife back, though. i like keeping track of them, y'know?" He uses magic to bring the blade back to him, cleaning the blood off of it.

"..So it was you? You gave it to me? Why?"

"well, i like to cause a little chaos from time to time..and it seemed like you could use some help, so naturally i had to chime in." He twirls the blade in his hand with ease. "you're welcome, by the way."

You roll your eyes. "Whatever..I need a drink after all that shit."

Killer hums at that. He really doesn't wanna go home right now.. there's such a chill vibe to this city. Maybe he could..stick around just a little more..

"hey, how about i join you?" He suggests, earning a brow raise from you. "two people who know a little more than they should, just getting a drink together..how's that sound, human?"

"...I..guess that's okay. It uh..it can be to thank you for saving my ass back there. What's your name?"

"killer."

You look at his knife. "Well, that's a given, I suppose."

"got me there. so..where to?" He raises his browbones with a smug smile, earning a sigh from you as you turn back to the bloody corpses on the ground.

"Hold up a second. I gotta get rid of these before somebody finds them. All I need is another case on my hands.."

He grins. "allow me to help you with that."

"How?-"

He raises the bodies with magic, leans his arm back, and throws them as far as he possibly can. "tadaaaa."

"They- they can still be found out there-"

"trust me. they aren't reaching those bodies." He grins, holding an arm out for you. "c'mon, stop worrying so much. let's go get some drinks."

"Well..alright, I guess." You take his arm, walking with him to the nearest open bar. Would've been nice to know that was there earlier.

.

.

.

Surprisingly, Killer's..pretty easy to get along with. Even before you started drinking you found the guy to be quite a charmer, for a..well, a Killer. But you can't really say anything. You've become one yourself.

"oh my god, and don't get me started on my boss. he's so strict, like all the time- i just need a break from time to time, y'know?" He takes a sip of a drink he ordered. "like..it's just a lot sometimes."

"Yeah, I get that. They just keep pressuring you and pressuring you to get stuff done..how is anybody supposed to work under that much stress?" You swirl your drink of choice around in a glass. "It just makes your progress slow."

"THANK YOU." He gestures towards you, letting out a laugh. "somebody gets that! i just..don't understand why he doesn't."

"Maybe you should try talking to him about it sometime."

"yeah, that's like jumping into a tank of sharks. no way in hell. but..well, at least i can take breaks on missions from time to time, like this one."

You nod, looking down at the counter beside you. "So..are you going to be coming back to this universe?"

"i usually don't go back to universes i've already been through unless my boss has business." He looks to you, a curious glint to his empty eyesockets. "why? would you miss me?"

You avert your eyes. "No."

"bullshiiit, you're starting to like me. i can see it on your face. c'mon, throw me a bone-"

"Was that a skeleton joke?"

"ugh, i still do it by habit sometimes. ignore that. 'sposed to be the others' thing.." He frowns, earning a laugh from you.

"Well. I guess I would miss you." You look over at him. His browbones raise in surprise, not expecting you to agree. What a pleasant surprise. "You're..interesting company, to say the least."

"aww. wait, what do you mean by-"

"If you came back, well..I wouldn't be opposed to opening the various locks on my front door for you to come hang out." You smirk, causing the skeleton to blink in surprise, before mimicking your expression.

"yeah?" "Yeah."

"well, i uh..i suppose i'll see what i can do. if you don't change your mind by then."

You both continue to converse, before Killer gets a call, frowning as he finally hangs up.

"i've gotta go. but uh..see you around?" He points finger guns in your direction, earning an eye roll from you.

"Sure. Don't fall into the tank when you get back."

He lets out a laugh, giving you a playful nudge before shortcutting away. You revert to a bored expression once he's gone, paying and walking out of the bar, thankfully not too drunk to walk home yourself.

You've killed four men in the span of a week.. you're not quite sure how you feel about that yet. Entering your apartment and greeting a pet, you walk to your room and pass out on your bed, deciding to let the guilt and fear catch up with you when you're fully sober in the morning.

[dreamties]

there's nothing really wrong with me; i'm just choking almost constantly || Polyam! Ghostface x GN! Reader

title from Twinkle Lights by The Sonder Bombs

Reader is dealing with the aftermath of their sexual assault, to which they still haven't told Billy and Stu that it was even a thing that happened. After a particularly rough night, the boys comfort them.

1st person POV

TRIGGER WARNINGS: there is reference to past SA, but it's not too graphic. the reader talks about it and there's like, references about it through out the text- and I know it can be really traumatic for some to read it so PLEASE be careful and read at your own risk. panic attacks, nightmares, i believe that's it !! let me know if I need to add more warnings!!

I blink awake, filled with an erratic, heart-pounding panic. It takes a moment to realize where I am- home, in my bed, by myself. I'm not at the trailer and I can't feel his breath down my neck anymore. 

I let out a shaky breath and sit up slowly, trying not to shock my body anymore.

My body feels unstable and wrong as I walk through the house. My mind and body caught in a fuzzy sort of dream state. 

I dial Stu's phone number, because I know he'll ask less questions than Billy- and that's what I needed right now. Just a distraction.

I school my voice to properly fake that sort of "I'm fine, nothing bad has ever happened to me" tone.

I clear my throat. "Stuey? I know it's a little late, but-"

"Nah, it's okay, baby. Whaddya need?"

I laugh- of course Stu sounds so chipper, he was likely up looking at Play Boys or watching total torture porn (aka a load of trash). 

"Could you pick me up? It'd be nice to stay at your place tonight." 

I can practically hear him grin on the other line. "Ab-so-LUTE-ly!"

I kind of half-giggle and thank him. I pull on an extra-long hoodie and grab the handmade Michael Myers plush my friend gave me off my bed. I wait out on the front porch for him to arrive. 

I settle into Stu's bed, and he hurriedly puts his magazines and other items under his bed, careless to the minor scrumpling to his merchandise. 

“Hey baby,” he kisses the top of my head and I try not to shrink away too much when he does so. I know it’s Stu, I know I’m safe- I can still feel his touch around my body, his hands at my throat, though. It’s so hard not to think he’s there with me, in bed next to Stu and I.

I smile at him and let him turn his lamp off even if the darkness and the looming shadows in his room are wholly disorienting.

I can feel a light tickle against the shell of my ear, like someone is whispering, “I won't be able to stop myself.” I shake him off of me and turn to my other side.

Just leave me alone, please.

I probably toss in my sleep the whole night, but Stu doesn’t seem bothered when we wake in the morning. My eyes are bleary and blinking back tears, hoping he doesn’t see. 

I should know better than to think Stu could keep any secret from Billy. I'm still surprised, however, that Billy jostles into the Macher's kitchen at 9am, already with a prickled attitude.

I drop the spoon into my bowl of cereal, milk splashing up and over onto the counter. I try to school my expression into something more neutral, so my surprise doesn’t hurt him. 

“Billy,” I greet. 

He replies back with my name, which I can only half-hear through the fuzzy, distant feeling in my body. 

Billy sits on a stool next to me, moving my bowl a little further from my reach. “Why were you up so late?”

I half-laugh, still tired, still groggy. “What, I’m not allowed to stay up?” I tease. And the hurt sick feeling settles in my throat. 

Billy shakes his head and sighs- he’s clearly frustrated. 

Stupid. Stop teasing him, he’s- I physically shake the thought off. Trying desperately to repel the negative energy like water to oil. Get it together.

“C’mon,” Billy tries again. He seems abnormally pissy, and I wonder what Stu told him on the phone. It’s no way that either of them could have figured it out, but the lump in my throat still grows at the possibility. 

“Just- missed Stu. That’s all.”

“You brought along your plushy,” he says, like that’s supposed to prove anything. “And that big hoodie of yours that you only wear when you’re sad.”

“Did Stu tell you that?” I try not to sound too antsy or annoyed. I know they’re only worried. Of course they’re worried- of course they know my tells like the back of their hands. I should have just stayed home, even if that meant waking up with the feeling of him pressed against my body. 

He nods. “You always tell us what’s wrong,” and he whispers my name in that hard-soft tone he gets when he’s anxious. I shiver.

“Nothing’s. . . nothing’s wrong.” I try and I know it’s bullshit. It’s a dumb attempt and Billy sees right through it. “Nothing that you can fix.” 

And I know Billy takes it as a personal attack- that I think he can’t take care of me. That his comfort isn’t enough, that he isn’t enough. I don’t know how to tell him that’s not what I meant, though, without telling him what happened. It feels hard to breathe, I take a shaky, sharp breath in. It doesn’t help. 

I don’t even know what’s going on, my eyes teary and blurred. My ears are ringing out. My body feels so fuzzy and too soft at the edges. My thoughts muddle in my brain and I don’t know if I'm breathing or talking or breathing or- I gasp out. 

Stu’s hands hold my shoulders tightly, trying to ground me. He’s done it a hundred times before, and it works nearly every time. 

My breath is labored, heavy and quick. Too quick. I still can’t feel myself breathing.

Billy and Stu both try to reassure me- I think. Their voices still unclear through the fog. 

“‘M sorry, ‘m sorry, sorry, sorry,” I repeat, till the word feels unsafe and garbled through my lips. “Shouldn't have to- shouldn’t have, shouldn’t have to. Have to- have to worry.”

My voice sounds so far away, like I’m speaking into a dying microphone, to the clashing, screaming crowd before me. Feeling so unheard, so unseen, even at center stage. 

The fog fades around Billy’s voice. “Hey, hey, it’s fine. Just- stop apologizing,” my name is slow on his tongue. “Can you hear me? C’mon, baby, you’re worrying Stu.” 

And I should respond. But everything just feels so- off. I’m not even sure what I’d say. I don’t want to explain myself. 

When the fog finally finally cuts through, I can breathe again. I’m sitting on the tiled floor of the Macher kitchen, with my knees pulled up against my chest. Billy and Stu sit on either side of me, their hands tentatively retracted from my body. 

I can finally breathe in the clearing. I could cry, if feeling my feelings didn’t hurt so much. If everything didn’t hurt. 

My breath takes a while to steady, and when it does, Billy takes this as a sign to pounce on me again. 

“What happened, baby?” And he sounds so . . . concerned. It hurts to know I’m hurting him. My body aches with every pound of my heart against my chest. 

“I think I had a panic attack,” I managed. 

Stu lets out an awkward laugh, and I don’t freak out this time when he touches my shoulder. “No shit!” 

He murmurs an apology and repeats himself, quieter now. It was sweet. Stu was so sweet and I can’t get over myself to just- live and not cause all this . . . all this angst and trial and tribulations between us. Billy would remind me- if I vocalized this ache - in my own words, that having tough emotions aren’t a burden. It feels like it is though. 

“I’m sorry,” I try and Billy shushes me. He seems annoyed still, I know it’s just the look he has when he’s scared, though.

Fuck, he’s scared. Get yourself together.

I swallow down the lump in my throat.

“Okay, fine. I can’t apologize, I get it.” I realize now that my voice croaks out, like I'd been crying. 

My eyes still feel hazy around the edges and they still struggle to focus on anything properly. 

“What can I say then?” I teasingly ask, and I feel sick to my stomach. 

Please don’t ask me why. Please don’t ask why. Please don’t ask why. Please.

“What’s up with you?” Billy asks. I’m not sure if that’s any better of a question though. 

“I- I can’t tell you.”

Billy rolls his eyes. “We can’t help you if we don’t know what’s wrong.”

Stu sighs, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze. His fingers tense when he speaks. “Please? We won’t- Stu glances at Billy and then back at myself- I won’t ask any other questions, I promise.” 

I give a humorless laugh in response. “Real assuring.”

“C’mon, I can’t control what Billy does,” he whines.

And there it is again. The lump in my throat. His breath tickling against my face. “I just can’t control myself around you.”

The attempts to shake off his incessant greed seem to only be in vain.

“Just- just get off of me, please,” I have to wrench the words out of my throat. “Please, ‘m sorry for- I’m sorry- just. Let go.”

Stu quickly winds his hand from my shoulder and puts his hands up, in defense. He looks at me all confused, his eyes wide and his brows furrowed. 

He lowers his hands and gives me those stupid, big blue puppy eyes.  “What’s wrong?” And he says it so gently. His voice felt warm and comforting.

“Just- I. Give me a moment.” 

“Okay,” both boys reply. 

“I- I think I was sexually assaulted.” My voice comes out in a tight whisper, lodged somewhere between my throat and the tension of the kitchen conversation. “I thought- I thought it was my fault or maybe it didn’t- it didn’t happen. Or- or maybe I misremembered it but-”

My voice gets caught and I let out a measly sob. 

“Woah,” Billy carefully reaches a hand out towards me, but doesn’t touch me. “Woah, woah. Baby,” he whispers. “What- who did this to you?”

I sniffle. I didn’t want to tell them.

It felt so much more real speaking it aloud. 

His voice feels dirty against my body, and I just want to get away from him. But he’s in the walls, he’s in my dreams. And I can’t escape. He’s sitting with me as my boyfriend’s try to comfort me. 

“I know better than that. I should have known better than that and-” my throat feels all funny, like I can’t breathe again. A sharp intake in, a shaky breath out. “And I still let him put his grubby hands all over me.”

“Woah, baby,” Billy’s voice is impossibly quiet and calm. He appears more apologetic and concerned with how I am, than the dark, revengefulness that usually seeps out of him when someone hurts me. “Baby, look at me, okay?”

I keep my head snuggled at the top of my knees, straining my eyes to look in his direction. I hum, not trusting myself to speak without crying. 

“It’s not- it’s not your fault. Whatever happened, it’s-”

My mouth seems to be on its own agenda. And my head feels impossibly fuzzy again. Everything is so . . . so disconnected. I tap my fingers against my shins, and they don’t feel like they’re really there at all. No matter how many times I tap them in the same familiar pattern. 

Nothing feels right. 

“I shouldn't have been such a tease. I- he told me to stop, said he wouldn’t be able to control himself if- and, and I didn’t listen, Billy. Was so confused, didn’t know where I was, Stuey and- and he- I told him that. But I should’ve listened. He w-warned me and I should have- I’m sorry.”

“Hey, shh,” Billy tries once more. “It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s not your fault, baby. Whatever- whoever it was, who convinced you . . . it doesn’t matter, okay? He doesn’t- you didn’t make him do anything. You-” even Billy struggles with it. 

He sighs, “what do you need from us? Just right now- what do you need at this moment, okay?”

Stu tries, as well. Learning from his previous mistake. 

“Is it okay to hug you or touch your shoulder right now?”

I shake my head. His hands at my throat, his voice tickled against my face. 

His hands at my throat, telling me to behave. 

Taking my “i’m fine”s and “okay”s out of context, blatant ignorance of my confusion.

“Could we just- could we sit on the couch maybe?”

It felt better, safer, in the openness of the living room. 

Like I wasn't going to suffocate and, like, explode or something. 

Stu's hanging his limbs off one end of the couch, and Billy tentatively perches on a couch arm. I assume Billy is sitting strangely to give me space- Stu's position is natural though. He always sits weird, and does things weird, which I love. I love him. I love Billy, and I'm just. I'm hurting them- I'm sitting in the middle of the couch, shaky and strange, and hurting them.

“What can we do?” Billy sounds gentle. He sounds sincere. I think . . . he is. The whole situation is strange and terrifying. I want to go back to sleep and hope when I wake that the past few months were some fever dream instead. 

I let out a shaky, heaving sigh. 

“I don’t- I don’t know.”

“That’s- that's okay. Baby,” his voice is sturdy, despite the uncertainty bleeding in.

“Yeah!” Stu smiles at me, and it feels sort of warm. It feels almost good. 

“You shouldn’t have to deal with someone so damaged.” I stare at my feet and my hands fidgeting absently in my lap. Tears pricking, stinging at my eyes.

I stumble over and retract apologies in my head. Trying to justify what he had done to me, to pin what he said, to pin his hands around my neck and push me down, as my own fault. As my own actions. 

I can’t tell Billy that. Not to him, not to Stu.

Billy has this restrained look in his eyes, and his face is twisted into an almost scowl. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I know I shouldn’t have said that. Because Billy thinks he’s broken, all the time.

He’s told me or alluded to his mom’s disappearance, to his asshole father. About the disconnect between himself and his own thoughts, his hands and his actions. He’s told us why he’s only ever felt safe and trusting in the arms of his lovers. 

And that he’s so afraid that one day, we’ll up and leave him, too. 

That he’s too damaged, too broken, to be loved. 

And I go and fuck it up again. I only know how to hurt.

“That’s, wait- that’s not. I’m sorry, Billy. I-”

And his voice is uncharacteristically sweet. It’s calm and low, and I can’t hear held back anger.

“It’s okay.”

“What?” My voice is small and squeaks out, unsure. 

“It’s okay. Baby," Billy says my name with my name with care. “You’re not- you will never be too fucked up to be loved by us.”

Stu smiles, protective. “I- we will never let that happen to you again.”

They offer physical comforts, they lean closer but not close enough to touch me. 

Maybe I shouldn’t be so trusting. He had promised to never hurt me and I followed him blindly. But Billy & Stu aren’t him. And I should be allowed to put my faith into others, without fearing I'll be hurt again.

I lean into Billy's touch, allowing him to encase me in his strong arms. Stu leans against us, bringing his long, sweater-clad arms around the huddled mess of us. 

Maybe it's against my better judgements.

Maybe it's a mistake.

But maybe, too, this is safety. This is love.

[faefictions]

That Laugh | 2

Eddie Munson x Reader

Request: Hey, could I request an eddie munson x reader where she falls over and hits her head a little and he's just so sweet and protective 

1.7k Words

If you haven’t read the first part of That Laugh, you can find it in my master list, but it isn’t exactly necessary to read it before this one!

You knew what was going to happen the second you heard the sound of your head hitting the pavement. 

It hadn’t been anyone’s fault, not deliberately at least as far as you were aware. You barely knew anyone around you, but you knew what you were getting into coming to a Harrington party. Steve had fallen from grace back when Billy Hargrove had come to town, but no one around here was going to turn down a social outing with free booze. You didn’t blame them either. 

You had found out about the Upside Down before Billy had died, well before Eddie had been roped into all the bullshit. Far before the rest of the town had been shown even just a sliver of what your friends had been involved in for years, at far too young an age. 

After everything that had happened, what Vecna had put you through, put your friends through, put Eddie through, you understood that everyone had their own ways of coping. Unfortunately, yours was falling right in with the rest of the people your age; drinking until you stopped thinking about the atrocities you witnessed. Eddie, on the other hand, had volunteered to stay sober any time you needed to go out like this. He felt like he owed you a night to forget about what he had put you through. He had died, right in your arms, before you could tell him how you felt, only to come back from the dead just as you had convinced yourself you had lost your mind. 

You were still learning to accept that he was really alive, half a year after his return. You were still waking up from nightmares, holding in a scream that was inevitably let out when you felt a body next to you in bed. Six months should have been enough for you to accept that he was back, that the body in your bed was alive and not a cruel trick. But, if six months had really been enough, perhaps you wouldn’t have been so drunk tonight. 

You had been next to the pool. You told Eddie you needed a moment to yourself. Even this drunk, you could feel the panic attack creeping up on you, like Vecna’s claw had hold of your lungs, just barely digging in. 

It wasn’t unusual for you to ask Eddie to leave you alone for some time, just for you to ground yourself in reality. The unfortunate part of his death and revival, was that he had a hard time calming you. You found it hard to convince yourself anything was real when you remembered him dying in your arms, yet here he was, holding you and asking you to breathe. It was easier to have a moment to yourself. 

The only place for you to catch your breath was on a lounge chair by Steve’s pool, the only part of the property that he actively tried to keep people away from. Usually, he was hypervigilant about people going out the back door, but apparently tonight was your unlucky night. Not only were you able to make it out there, so were a crowd of rowdy teens. They were younger than you, but older than the kids that Steve usually spent his time with. You didn’t know any of them, nor did you care to. 

The second you caught your breath, you tried to stand to make your way back inside to find Eddie, but the dizziness struck you instantly. This had come with the territory lately. Not eating or sleeping enough mixed with drinking and smoking a bit too much hadn’t been what your therapist had recommended, but you had stopped seeing her when you realized you couldn’t really tell her anything anyway. 

You took a second to let your head level out, and decided it was time to let Eddie take you home. You knew he wouldn’t complain that you hadn’t been there long, he never wanted to come out in the first place. You had started to wish that you had told him where you were going before you came outside, because there was no way he was going to assume you had broken Steve’s one and only rule. But you were proven wrong when you turned to look at the sound of the back door opening again. 

Eddie was standing there with a disapproving scowl and an obviously stressed Steve standing behind him. As he took a step towards you, you decided to stand and meet him halfway. You weren’t expecting to still be so dizzy, but you had expected the boy standing behind you even less. He hadn’t been expecting you either. 

You didn’t realize how close you were to the edge of the empty pool, but you learned your proximity as you were bumped over that ledge and into the shallow end of the pool. 

You weren’t sure if it was better or worse that the pool had remained drained after Barb. You barely knew how to swim, and you wouldn’t have stood a chance with this amount of alcohol in your system. But the crack that your head reverberated when it made contact with the ground was argument enough for the opposition. Before you could open your eyes again, Eddie was kneeling next to you checking the ground for blood just in case. There was nothing, but he still wouldn’t let you move. 

You could hear Steve tearing those teens a new one, not only for knocking you over, but for being out there in the first place. You heard their cowardly apologies, their receding footsteps, and the shutting back door before you saw Steve looking down over the edge at you. 

“Is she ok?” he asked Eddie, and the fear in his voice was nearly enough to make you cry. 

Eddie didn’t reply to Steve, you weren’t sure he even heard him. Instead, he focused all of his attention on you. 

“I want to check the back of your head baby, can you turn it for me?”

“I can sit up, Eds,” you rolled your eyes, but he prevented you from moving your arms. 

“Not on my watch. Not yet. Work with me here, or I swear to god…”

You wanted to fight him, but you thought better of it. With Steve watching, you wanted to do anything you could to speed this up and get you all back inside. You cooperated and turned your head for Eddie, and he checked to make sure you didn’t split anything open. Luckily, your arm had taken the brunt of the fall and had possibly saved you from a concussion or worse. 

“See, I’m fine Eds,” you smiled up at him, and then to Steve, but Steve was the only one to return it. 

Eddie appeared to be seething with anger, and for a second you thought it was with you, until he gingerly pulled you into a tight hug. 

“I’m gonna fucking kill that asshole,” he nearly whispered in your ear. 

“What? What asshole?,” you pulled back to look at him, “You mean the kid I bumped into? This wasn’t his fault Eds. So I would appreciate it if he stayed alive.” 

“He could have killed you.”

That was when you recognized the look in Eddie’s eyes. This wasn’t just anger, it was residual fear. He had seen you go over that edge, heard a loud crack, and assumed the worst. 

You nearly giggled at the thought. He gets torn apart by bats in front of you, but he thought you were going to be taken out by a bonk to the head. 

“Eddie,” You reached out and grabbed his head in both hands and brought his forehead to yours. This was the exact position he would force you into when you would wake up screaming for the first few months. He never forced you to open your eyes, you always preferred to keep them closed when he was that close in the dark, lest your eyes play tricks on you and show you his dead eyes. 

“I am fine Eddie. I’m safe, I’m alive, and I’m right here.” you repeated the mantra he had chanted to you each of those nights. Then you took his hand, just as he had done to you, and put it right over your heart. 

You had felt his stop, so feeling it beat was the closest thing to reassurance that he could give you. You could only assume it would have the same effect on him, even without the trauma of feeling yours cease. 

After a couple deep breaths, you looked up to see Steve still standing at the edge of the pool. He was avoiding looking directly at the two of you, but you knew he wasn’t going to let either of you out of his sight out there. 

“Hey Eddie,” you whispered, and he slowly lifted his chin to look at you again, “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he smiled back at you. 

“Good, now do you think we can get out of here and get Steve back inside?” 

“Yeah, yeah of course. Sorry, I just…” he paused a second after he looked over his shoulder at Steve, but quickly turned back around and pulled you in for a desperate kiss. 

You were the one to pull away for a breath, but Eddie quickly spoke up. 

“I know I am never going to understand what you went through last spring, nor do I want to. But… you gotta promise me you’ll keep it that way. I thought I lost you there for a second, and I can’t… I don’t-”

“I promise. You’re not getting rid of me that easily, asshole.” 

You kissed him one last time before he took your hand and carefully guided you up the steps of the pool. 

“Sorry, I know you don’t like people out here,” you began to apologize to Steve as the two of you approached, but he cut you off with a big hug. You had put both of them through something terrible that night, but there was nothing you could say to apologize properly. 

“Let’s get inside,” Steve nearly choked over his words as he guided the two of you inside, making sure to take up the rear to ensure everyone made it inside safe.

Tags: @eddielives1986 @eddieswifu @chickpeadumpsterfire @fluffybunnyu @panagiasikelia @justanotherpasserby @embrace-themagic @fanficparker  @heartbeats-wildly @saturn-aka-six @calum-hoodwinked-me @peterplanet @mischiefmanaged49 @nicotine-sunshine820 @itsjusttor @emistrash @thenoddingbunny-blog @sovereignparker @raajali3

[the-coffee-fandom]

✨ Nimona Fic Recs ✨

A good handful of Nimona fics I really enjoyed (I especially suggest the bottom three)

As The Rain Continued To Fall (Complete)

Rated G - Hurt/Comfort

Ballister x Ambrousois

It was the middle of the night, and it was dark, and he was Awake.

A night, after the end of the Movie. Ballister, alone with his thoughts.

Ashes Of The Hearth (Incomplete)

Rated T - Hurt/Comfort

Ballister x Ambrosius & Nimona

Nimona knows her power. Knows her limits.

Well, most of them.

Sidewalk Reinventions (Complete)

Rated G - Hurt/Comfort

Ballister & Nimona

Nimona, the Best and Most Renowned Shapeshifter in the World, or: a chronicle of the shapes Nimona takes through the years.

Happiness Found In You (Complete)

Rated G - Fluff

Ballister & Nimona

Here’s some fluff for that sad little man with the baby girl eyes

Following the ending of the movie!!

Not A People (Complete)

Rated G - Hurt/Comfort

Ballister & Nimona

Nimona always has a habit of getting injured during fights but nobody has ever worried about her, that is, until Ballister Boldheart came around.

(I’m) The Monster Under Your Bed (Complete)

Not Rated (G rating content) - Angst With Happy Ending

Ballister x Ambrosius & Nimona

Be it simple curiosity, or something deeper, one day Ballister asks Nimona a question

He's not ready for the answer.

Late At Night (Complete)

Rated G - Hurt/Comfort

Ballister x Ambrosius & Nimona

Nimona is still getting used to Ambrosius, it helps that Ballister loves him very much.

Twenty Seven Thousand Years Of This (Seven More To Go) (Complete)

Rated G - Hurt/Comfort

Mentions of: Panic attacks and PTSD

Ballister & Nimona

“Shhh, stop. Stop, it’s okay,” The voice soothes, now, hands hovering above her head, already formed into the shape of her hair, but doesn’t dare to touch her. “Nimona—listen to me. You’re home. You’re alright.”

Home. Noun. Four letters. Two syllables. But what the fuck does it mean to a girl who’s been a deer and a fish and a shark and a dragon and somehow in the end, despite all of that, nobody at all? What the fuck does it mean to a girl who’s seen the moons change its shape too many times over and brought fire to every valley where her baby feet steps?

or: violent nightmares aren't new to nimona. what's new is the pair of arms that holds her regardless, and a place that normal people call home.

Enough Courage To Trust (Complete)

Rated G - Fluff

Ballister x Ambrosius & Nimona

Nimona and Ambrosius don't really like each other, let alone trust each other. One of those days, they finally get a chance to bond - through kicking ass and having pizza.

Me And The Devil, Walking Side By Side (Complete)

Rated G - Hurt No Comfort

Gloreth & Nimona

On her seventeenth birthday, Gloreth sets out into the forest to finish what she started.

Or, one possibility for how the knights came to be.

Kiss It And Make It Better (Complete)

Rated G - Fluff

Ballister & Nimona

After Ballister removes the arrow from Nimona's leg, she decides she kinda enjoys the attention.

Stick Figure Stones (Complete)

Rated G - Hurt/Comfort

Ballister & Nimona

The first time Ballister came across the well, he was drowning.

Or; I thought "what if Bal found the well" and wrote this in like an hour and a half :>

A Glimpse Of What I Call Home (Complete)

Rated G - Fluff

Ballister & Nimona

Ballister realizes his dream of having a family has already been granted, after a minor slip up from Nimona during casual conversation.

Eight Months Later (Incomplete)

Rated T - Hurt/Comfort (but highlight the hurt)

Mentions of: Su*c*de, Panic Attacks, and PTSD

Ballister x Ambrosius & Nimona

Nimona’s alive. Ballister wants her to know how much people love her. He takes her to her memorial.

It doesn’t go great.

My Glory Is Yours (Complete)

Rated T - Angst With A Happy Ending

Ballister x Ambrosius & Nimona x Gloreth

Eight years after the fateful incident with Nimona, Gloreth makes a wish to fix things by the old well where they met. To her surprise, she finds herself 1000 years in the future.

[hotaru-no-yume]

number four

CW: Hints of mental instability, canonical character death, reference to s*icide at the end.

On a cold, winter morning, you wake up light-headed and feverish. Despite the freezing temperature outside, you feel like you were stranded in the middle of the desert due to the sweat trickling down your brow. You frown, uncomfortable, and dismayed at your body's current condition, and when you move to get up, your vision spins, causing you to collapse on the bed.

"Wonderful." You mutter, followed by a coughing fit. There was no way you would be able to move, much less get any work done. You try so hard to take care of yourself, because you knew your body was weak; prone to constant fatigue and susceptible to illnesses. But it seems all your efforts were in vain against the harsh winter season. With a groan, you throw your covers over your head. You need to get up, cook food and get medicine, but your body had other plans. It wants to escape to dream land and you can do nothing but yield.

Your vision blurs and you sigh in defeat. 'Just a little longer,' you think to yourself. Sleep a little more, and hopefully, you'll be strong enough to at least get out of bed when you wake up again.

You don't know how long you were asleep, but by the time you wake up, it was already late afternoon. Wanderer was by your side this time, frantically shaking your shoulders. You groan and open your eyes in annoyance. His grip was too tight and you were starting to feel nauseous with all the shaking he's doing. What were you? Some seasoning container that he can just shake to his heart's content?

"Wanderer, stop that-"

"What's wrong with you?!" Your mouth immediately snaps shut at his frantic tone. His grip on your shoulders was almost bruising as he stares at you with wide, terrified eyes. 

"You… You weren't waking up! I thought you… You… Are you going to leave me too?! Say something!" 

Your head feels fuzzy, you still feel sick and your empty stomach was starting to hurt, but the only thing you could focus on right now is your beloved that's about to go into a panic attack. His breathing was erratic and with one look at his eyes, you realize that he's seeing something else entirely.

"Wanderer. Wanderer, can you hear me?" You feel like there's pins and needles in your throat, but you continue to call out. You place your hand on his cheek, saying comforting words and reassurances. You ask him to calm down, to breathe, you're here, you'll be here for as long as you can (because as much as you want to promise eternity, that's not possible for a human like you. You can only pray to every Archon out there that he'll be fine when it's time for you to leave.)

Slowly, his breathing slows and clarity returns to his eyes. He looks like he just woke up from a nightmare. He blinks, takes in his surroundings, and finally settles on you, still wincing at his painful grip. With a shaky sigh, his grip loosens and he leans into your touch.

"...Your temperature is too high." He says as he lays you back down on the bed. He tucks you in with a quick apology for his rough handling. 

"I told you not to work too much. Especially in this weather." He scolds with a click of his tongue, but his touch was gentle as he places a hand on your forehead - like he was touching fragile glass.

"I know. I thought I could handle it. I made sure to take a hot bath and everything when I got home, but…" You trail off and give him a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry for worrying you." And making you remember something painful.

"Humans are fragile creatures. I should have expected this." He pulls out a miniature doll of himself from the inside of his sleeve and places it in your hands. You blink at it in bewilderment as he stands up.

"Hold onto that. I'll be back with some medicine. Lesser Lord Kusanali should know what works best. …Wait, have you eaten yet?"

You shake your head and he hums in thought. "Before taking medicine, you should eat." He's already walking out of your bedroom before you can say anything else. You can barely make out the names of ingredients before he shuts the door. You settle in your bed, listening to the sound of Wanderer's footsteps as he moves around in your kitchen. Several minutes later, he comes back with a steaming bowl of soup.

"Surely, you can eat by yourself?" He scoffs as he places the bowl by your bedside. His tone was mocking, but it lacked any hint of ridicule. In fact, he was glancing at the bowl and you with uncertainty. You were sure that he really will take the spoon and feed you himself if you say so. (With half-hearted complaints, because he just can't be honest with himself. He wasn't used to showing blatant affection and care, but he tries in his own unique way and that warms your heart every time.)

"Yeah. I can eat by myself." You get up slowly. Thankfully, your vision stopped spinning. You grab the bowl and begin to eat under his watchful gaze. His tense shoulders finally relax in relief once he sees you take bite after bite. You'll be fine. (Your body's not failing you. You're not leaving him.)

"...I'll be back." He glances at you one last time before he's gone again.

You look at the little doll sitting on the pillow beside you and whisper an apology. You knew it was merely an inanimate object, but somehow, it looked very sad in your eyes, just like its owner.

When Wanderer saw you lay unmoving on your bed, he thought the worst had happened. The image of a little boy (so young, so young, why couldn't he live a long life?) so similar to him overlapped with your own and he feels something inside of him start to snap. 

He remembers the body of that child, cold and lifeless; he didn't even have a chance to grow up. The image of a blooming cherry tree appears beside the body, as if the child's death nourished it, making it bloom so beautifully it was terrifying. Then, the raining petals turned into flames and he is reminded of the time he turned away from the world. He vowed that the third betrayal would be his last.

But then, he met you. He accepted your love and drowned in it, no matter how much his mind screamed at him to push you away. No matter how much he berates himself for making such a stupid decision, he clings to your affection with greed and desperation because the emptiness he feels disappears in your presence. His lack of a beating heart didn't seem to matter with you.

That's why, he'll take care of you. A wanderer he may be, but if there is a home to be found with you, then he will cease his wandering without question. Home is where the heart is, isn't it? And when you call him "your heart" in return, how can he ever let go?

He prays to the gods. He doubts they will listen, but he continues with his foolishness.

May the fourth betrayal never come. 

(It's futile. The gods never answered common prayers. Why would they answer something that defies the laws of life and death? When the inevitable comes, he'll race into the night and follow your departed soul, no matter what it takes.)

[yourfav-anon]

Lady Lesso x never student platonic

The mask pt2

Prompt: student suffers from anxiety and panic attacks and Lady Lesso finds him having one and comforts him.

Words: 680

*TW* implied anxiety, implied self harming and violence, mentions of blood. Tell me if I should add anything else

© This is my work, you have no right to repost my work for any reason without my explicit permission, all rights reserved.

________________________________

Part 2

Looking at your bloodied hands, with no further thought, the redheaded dean picked you up and carried you in her room.

She carefully placed you on top of her couch while she summoned the supplies needed to treat your wounds.

At first you pulled your hand away at the painful sting of the alcohol. "Little one, you have to let me clean your wounds, I can't let you bleed like that." You hesitantly gave your arm back for her to treat it.

While carefully cleaning your wounds, Lady Lesso noticed your bruised arms. It was normal for a never to have bruises, but there were too many to have all been caused by the school.

After cleaning your wounds she summoned some bandages and tightly wrapped them around your arms.

"I'll have to check these bandages later. Now rest." Lady Lesso gently placed you on top of her imposing four poster bed and tucked you in, careful not to touch your arms. You suddenly felt a heavy wave of exhaustion hit you and you fell into a deep dreamless sleep for the first time in who knows when.

You woke up by the sound of a door closing. What had happened yesterday? You tried to sit up, but a hand with silver painted nails stopped you. "You are still weak", you heard the dean say. "Rest, and we can talk in the morning". Suddenly, yesterday's events started coming back to you in a haze. You looked at your bandaged arms and back to Lady Lesso. "What time is it?" you asked "It's almost 4am."

Yesterday, after the dean had finished with her classes she went back to check on you, seeing you were still asleep, she spent the night grading papers in her office while coming back to check on you every few hours.

"Now, rest. I'll come back in the morning." You tried to get back to sleep but you couldn't, this time when you finally fell asleep you didn't manage to escape your torturous nightmares.

You woke up for the second time, drenched in cold sweat even though you were buried in the dean's heavy blankets.

You were alone, so you took the chance to sit up and observe your surroundings. Lesso's room looked nowhere near what you expected it to. It was full of overfilled bookcases. A lit fireplace sat on the other side of the room next to the sofa you sat on yesterday. The room gave off a very cozy vibe.

The door opened and Lady Lesso entered the room holding a tray full of breakfast and a glass of water.

"Look who decided to wake up" she said placing the tray next to the bed. "I brought you some breakfast."

It was only when you started eating that you realized how hungry you were. The previous days, you hadn't only neglected your sleep but your nutrition too.

After you had finished eating, Lesso took the tray away and sat on the bed beside you.

"I have to change your bandages now. Is that ok?" You nodded.

After removing the old bandages and applying new ones she finally broke the silence.

"Now little one. Do you want to talk about what happened yesterday?"

You didn't know why, maybe it was her soft and reassuring tone, or the way she had treated you with so much care, or the fact that she had been more motherly to you than your own mom had ever been. You felt like you could trust her with your secrets.

So you started talking, you told her everything from the abuse you had received from a tender age from your parents and siblings, to the "mask" you always wore at school. You told her about the late night flying, your insomnia, your nightmares, the scratching, and how your anxiety had worsened because of the upcoming parents weekend.

And from that day on you knew that you weren't alone on this and that Lady Lesso's office door would always be open for you, if you ever needed help or someone to talk to.

And you never got in trouble for flying past curfew, ever again.

________________________________

Guys would you like me to write one with the parents weekend???

If you have any ideas about it text me.

Tx for reading my work<3 <3

[eddies-ashtray]

Hiya! First of all, congrats on 1K 🥳 that is amazing! I would love to request the prompts ❛ you’re welcome to stay, if you want. ❜ from list a and❛ you shouldn’t be out here by yourself. ❜ from list b. Thank you for doing this fun prompt 1K celebration!

hi! thank you sm! (cw: nightmares!, talk of panic attack, paranoia, maybe a hint PTSD?) / gn!reader / 1.4k words.

synopsis: you were cursed by vecna and survived. but now, though vecna is dead, you must deal with the paranoia and fear he instilled in you. luckily, eddie is your light the dark; always ready to guide you to shore. 

***

After rounding the corner, you pick a rock from the small pile in your hand and skip it across the pavement. It strikes the tarmac and jumps into the grass on your right where crickets sing. 

Overhead, the full moon weighs heavy in the black sky, casting the trailer park in a soft white glow. It’s enough to light up the whole park on its own; the orange hue of street lamps hardly needed on this cool spring night. You find that the slight chill grounds you, like you’re able to breathe out here. 

It was suffocating being in your trailer. So much so that you’d nearly clawed your way out of the small space and into the open air; you stumbled first from your bedroom, then grabbed onto your kitchen counter for stability, and finally slammed the trailer door open with a thwack. Sucking in air that had previously felt incredibly thin, you clutched the wrought iron porch railing for dear life. 

You’d calmed yourself by now, however. It was only a nightmare. But it felt so real. Though lately you’ve been constantly questioning what “real” even means anymore. 

Walking further down the road, still skipping rocks, you didn’t realize you had turned onto this road of the park until you heard his voice. But maybe you had wanted to end up here. Maybe you hoped he would be up too. 

“You shouldn’t be out here by yourself,” Eddie calls from his porch and you turn to face him where you stand at the edge of his lawn, about 6 feet apart. He’s sitting on the rickety wooden boards of the porch, rather than on the brown, peeling couch behind him. 

“Oh! Hi, Eddie,” You greet, breezing past his overprotective comment. If you had told him you were fine, that you did this all the time when he didn’t know, he’d only grow upset and probably lightly reprimand you for going out at night on your own. You’d done this dance many times before.

“Hey,” Eddie greets back, smiling softly at you. His hair is tied loosely in a low bun, some strands pulled out messily from the front, flowing in the inconsistent breeze. You’ve never seen his hair tied back before; it looks cute. He’s also wearing a white tank and a pair of grey sweats, looking extremely soft and gentle in the moonlight. 

Despite going to school together and living in forest hills, just around the corner from each other for years, you hadn’t spoken to him before the events of the month prior. But you’d become something of friends since then and spoke to each other quite often now. 

It’s quiet for a moment as you linger at the edge of the lawn, unsure whether you should join him on the porch. This friendship is still new; tentative.

Eddie notices your hesitance; the way you kick lightly at the gravel with your sneaker and pull your hands together behind your back. You’re just in some sleep shorts and a tee. You must be freezing, he thinks.

“You’re welcome to stay if you want,” Eddie offers. You seem to light up at that, though that could just be the way the moonlight caresses your skin.

You were hoping Eddie would ask you to stay. He was one of the few people who brought you comfort lately and since you were untrusting of most people as of late (paranoid they might turn on you any second and harass you about one of the worst moments of your life. Though you knew this would never happen again with Vecna dead, fear and paranoia still gripped you), it was nice to be around him and not feel on guard. Actually, Eddie seemed to act as your guard; never failing to make you feel safe. 

So, you wander over to him, placing your small pile of rocks next to him and pull yourself up onto the porch beside him.

He glances at the pile of rocks, then looks back up to you where he finds you looking right back at him. You weren’t prepared for his eyes to meet yours though, so you look away quickly, suddenly interested in the grass below your dangling feet. You feel your heart skip a few beats. 

“So,” Eddie begins, still looking at you. 

“So,” You repeat, still looking at the grass. 

Even though you feel a little awkward, it’s good. It feels normal at least; like things aren’t as fucked up as they felt most of the time. You’d rather a little awkwardness than paranoia. 

“You okay?” Eddie asks genuinely, picking one of the rocks from your pile, rolling it from hand to hand.

“I-” You start, dragging the vowel out, brows furrowing as you try to come up with words. But there aren’t really any to explain. Eddie just knows though. And you know he knows when he interrupts:

“Yeah. Me too,” And he skips the rock across the lawn. It bounces off the dirt and clicks against the faded, cracked tarmac, landing in the grass on the other side of the street.

You too pick up a rock and cast it just as you were doing before and Eddie continues his line of questioning, watching your rock sail over the lawn:

“Still having nightmares?”

“Yes…You?” You return the question, turning your head to look at him, his side profile angular, yet somehow soft. 

“Uh-huh,” Eddie sounds, slinging another rock across the road.

“That’s why you’re out here too?” You ask though you know the answer. 

“Yup,” He answers. And as he goes to pick up another rock, he comes up empty. You’d cast every stone. 

Placing his hands behind him on the wood, Eddie leans back and you look back at him. You stare for a moment then cast your eyes downward, thinking. You feel immense gratitude for the rock he’s been for you over these last few weeks. Eddie has been your guard, your rock, your lighthouse; a protector, a lifejacket, and a guide.

“Sweetheart?” Eddie prompts, ducking his head to meet your eyes and causing a strand of hair to fall over his eye. “Where’d you go?” He asks when you look back at him; his dark eyes concerned. 

You sniffle, suddenly emotional. 

Eddie pulls you to his chest immediately, rubbing down your arm soothingly (the second you show any signs of distress Eddie goes into protection mode). He’s warm and smells faintly of cigarettes, and more strongly of something woody, like cedar. More aptly, it briefly crosses your mind that he smells like home. And suddenly, you realize that more than anything Eddie feels like home to you. 

You pull away from him at the realization, hands holding his shoulders softly. He blinks at you, doe-like. You’re so overwhelmed that you just say what you’re thinking right away: 

“Thank you,” You begin somewhat lamely (‘thank you’ doesn’t seem to cover the magnitude of your emotions towards him), sounding out of breath for some reason.

“For everything. For-for letting me sit with you tonight. For checking on me all the time and just…caring. For letting me call you when nothing feels real…You’ve been the only real thing to me; for some reason you’re the only thing–the only person–who I don’t feel completely crazy and paranoid around…You make me feel safe,” You finish, voice cracking at the end as a lone tear falls down your cheek. Eddie swipes it away with his thumb unthinkingly, then holds your face in his hands. You close your eyes briefly at his touch and lean into it, bringing your hands up to hold his wrists. 

“You make me feel safe too. I know how much it means. And I want you to keep calling me, okay? And coming around. Because I need to know that you’re okay. I don’t ever want you to feel like you’re alone, so you keep coming to me when things get bad, alright? You hear me?” Eddie says when you stare at him for a moment, stunned by his want–no–, his need to keep you safe. 

You nod weakly, feeling more tears slip down your face.

“Good,” He finalizes. 

Eddie kisses your forehead softly then, pulling you back into his chest, the safe haven of his arms, the warm home of his body. 

You sleep at Eddie’s that night, next to him in his bed. It’s a dreamless sleep; the most peaceful rest you’ve had in weeks. 

[scarareg]

For OTP asks, for any of your favorite ship(s) from PJO/HOO:

4 5 16 21 22 32 34 36 39 (choose any which you find interesting (or) all!!)

Oh thank you, thank you thank you, I am so excited about this!

My OTP is percico!

4. Their favorite show to watch together?

Oh this is super fun because Percy would be eager to show Nico different shows from different decades and discover new ones together! Percy probably likes Brookly Nine-Nine and The Amazing World of Gumbal and Nico is a geek who may like darker stuff like Link Click, GOT/HOTD or Dark, maybe even Succession!

So, their fave shows to watch together may be something fun, but a little bit of mistery or drama or something along those lines. Maybe Hazbin Hotel, Barry, ATLA, Bluey and Breaking Bad. It would be adorable if both love Anne With An E too!

5. Who is the cheesier one of the two?

Percy!

16. Who hogs the covers?

Percy! Nico does not mind, but he pretends to just to tease Percy about it

21. Any routines one has that the other had to get used to (ex. morning, nighttime, sleeping habits)?

Percy is more of a morning person while Nico is the opposite, so they probably have discussed about it because Percy is trying to help Nico fix his sleeping schedule to be healthier. Nico would protest at first and feel like a zombie but he eventually get used to it. They agree for Nico stay up late on weekends!

Percy also makes sure Nico is eating properly.

After Tartarus and both having PTSD, I think both are a little messy, but would rely on each other to ground the other when they are having a hard time, a nightmare, panic attack, etc, and that will make them bond more

22. Love languages? How do they get around differences, if any?

Percy's are physical touch and words of affirmation; Nico's are quality time and acts of service.

Nico is probably learning to talk about his feelings, he may be awkward but honest about them; Percy appreciates him trying! Percy had to learn to read Nico's body language so he could be comfortable with his touch and not overdo it or overstep a boundary Nico is not ready yet

32. Who's so affectionate they can't stop touching the other?

Percy a million percent!

34. How do they cheer the other one up during sad times?

When Percy notices that Nico is sad, he sits next to him and tries to ask him what's up. Then he is his optimistic-self and starts listing all the good scenarios that can happen and how great everything will be and assures him that he will be by his side (and Hazel and Reyna too!) so he has nothing to worry about!

When Percy is sad Nico would try to talk with Percy and make him laugh , then would hug him and kiss the palm of his hand; he know Percy would appreciate the gestures, especially since it is a little weird for Nico to initiate physical contact

36. Who is more protective?

They are both equally protective but Percy is in more obvious ways, so everyone thinks it is him. For example, if someone is making mean comments about Nico behind his back, Percy would not stay still and would defend him.

Nico is subtle, like when he helped Percy to have the Curse of Achilles , or when he talked to Bob about Percy. He always has Percy's back but Percy would realized the things Nico did for him after a while

39. Do they get along with the other's family? If not, how do they deal with the other's family?

Percy gets along with Hazel and only Hazel. They probably hang out constantly and when Percy needs help with something related to Nico, she is the one he goes to for help.

Percy and Hades have beef so at the beginning Hades tried to convince Nico to change his mind, talk about guys who would be better suitors, or constantly ask if Nico is sure about his decision. Nico always shuts down his father's comments. After some time, when it was obvious that his son's relationship with Percy Jackson would last, he made peace with the idea, but privately he was still a bit grumpy about it. Low-key, he appreciates the way Percy treats his son and how happy he seems, but that is only something Persephone knows

At first, Nico is awkward around all of Percy's parents, even if they like him. Sally always welcome him and try to start conversation and Nico would answer but he was all polite, Sally thought he is adorable! After a while Nico starts to relax a bit and he and Sally have long afternoons filled with conversations and activities together; Sally made it her mission to teach everything a still-growing child needs to learn! Paul and he get along and have conversations about history and the past Nico missed and misses.

Poseidon does not mind Nico, he is just happy his fave son is happy. Nico has not interact a lot with him, but when he does he is respectful, just like he is with any other God.

Thank you so much for the ask! This was really,really fun! If you have any other specific ship you want me to answer questions about, I am all ears!

Send a ship + a number and get an answer.