#i was hesitant to post this but here it is!

[pseudowho]

Deeper, Harder, Faster: Reader/Ino/Nanami

After a chat with the lovely @nanaslutt, I can with absolute delight say that they have given me their blessing to write this exquisite smut blurb in full.

Everyone say thank you @nanaslutt 🙇‍♀️ for allowing Haitch to go to town.

Based on this! post here. Please do go and like/reblog the original idea.

Warnings: 18+, mentor/mentee relationship, threesome, PiV, anal, oral f!receiving

Here we go...

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Nanami Kento bristled with annoyance, as another doghouse sigh broke his fragile peace. Ino slumped on his arms, his cheek pressed against the table, looking like such a boy that Nanami couldn't help but enquire.

"What is it, Ino?"

"It's nothing, Nanami."

Nanami folded his book closed, huffing a little. "It's clearly not 'nothing'. I'm not one to pry, but--"

"It's my girlfriend, Nanami, I'm letting her down. She says 'go faster', or 'go deeper', or 'go harder' and she doesn't know what she's asking for, I don't want to hurt her--"

"Stop. Ino."

An awkward silence hung between Ino and Nanami for the former's fractious outburst, and the faintest blush smattered across Nanami's high cheekbones. He cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses.

"Well, that took...absolutely no insistence at all on my part, did it?" At Ino's groan, muffled as he pulled his balaclava down over his reddening face, Nanami cleared his throat again and continued. "While that was...altogether none of my business, I might hesitantly suggest that the young lady knows her own mind, Ino. If she is...dissatisfied with intimacy, have you considered doing as she asks?"

"I just think she's asking too much, y'know? I'll hurt her--"

"Have you a safe word?"

Ino hesitated, stuttering. "A-a...safe word?"

"Yes, a safeword. You've tried some different positions, I assume? Perhaps you've let her lead the way if she chooses? Responded to her cues?"

Nanami looked over his glasses with each recommendation, feeling grimmer and grimmer at Ino's continued vacant expression. Nanami hummed into his coffee, a cover-all sound of dismay, before a switch flicked on Ino's face.

"Could you show me?"

Nanami choked on his coffee, recovering with a cough, shocked by how eagerly his cock twitched against his thigh. Thoughts of watching you spread beneath Ino, pleasured by his own instruction, bloomed a sordid power fantasy he'd never known he had. He tried to look impassive, and not as eager as he felt.

"Show you?"

"Yeah, uh...I-I bet she wouldn't mind."

Nanami could blame the way that the blood rushed from his brain to his dick, as the reason for his easy agreement, but he'd be lying.

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Nanami was as taut as a bowstring, his suit-jacket discarded, in yours and Ino's bedroom. He was humid with the scent of your sex, shot through by your whimpers and gasps, as Ino fucked lazily against the bed with your clit in his mouth.

Nanami's fists clenched as your head rolled on the bed to look at him; the only outward sign that he was at all affected by your plush, parted lips, the way your breasts peaked, lonely and without attention, and the way your orgasm crept closer. And yet, it all meant naught when your pleasure was so two-dimensional.

"Deeper-- Takuma-- please--"

Though Ino was tonguing your wet little pussy to climax through mouth alone, you arched, frustrated, wanting more than just the first slim inch of Ino's fingers. Ino curled his fingertips barely past your entrance, featherlight, hardly past the first knuckle. Nanami suppressed a scowl.

Ino muffled something into your pussy as you came with a weak cry; an orgasm, yes, but not the one you had wanted. Not the one that would have you seeing God, and forgetting the days of the week. Your cunt and belly had, after all, been left utterly unfucked.

"See, baby? Nice and gentle..." Ino whispered against your thigh, pressing tender kisses to your folds, to your blushing, half-satisfied smile. "So good...so pretty--"

Nanami felt your frustration; despite having never been entered, he knew the unique deep, yanking climax of a hook behind one's navel, and suspected that you were fucking yourself better with toys than Ino was with his body.

Nanami squirmed, spreading his thighs to allow room for the heavy tenting of his lap, and tried to be unaffected by the way your head turned to him again, a thread of pleading in your eyes. Nanami was never one to deny a woman begging, and it tortured him even to pay witness to it, as a mentor.

All the worse, even Ino's cock was gentle, sliding into you as if you were made of glass. Nanami could have cried for the way Ino shook with the effort of holding back, despite your arching, despite the way you whispered to Ino, for him to move 'deeper' and 'harder' and 'faster'.

Watching the slow, supple roll of Ino's tight body into yours, and watching the way you had given up asking for more, Nanami's self-restraint snapped, his cool voice belying stormy waters.

"Listen to your girl, Ino. Do as she says."

Ino's hips stuttered, a flush on his cheeks as he threatened to come before he'd even taken you to the brink and back again.

"S-she's...she's okay, aren't you, babe?"

You blushed beneath Ino, lying as if you weren't scrutinised by sharp brown eyes; lying, as if your own eyes hadn't been begging for Nanami's intervention only moments before.

"Yeah, I...I'm fine, I--"

"Fine?" Nanami spat, on his feet now, and prowling around the end of the bed, examining Ino's slowly fucking hips from all angles.

"You're supposed to be pleasured until you can't remember your own name, and you're just fine?"

You blushed, called out, turning your head away as Ino's movements slowed to a halt, and he gazed down at you, breathless and uncertain.

"...babe?"

Nanami continued, growling, palming his aching cock against his zipper. His breath, his cologne, ghosted against Ino's flushed cheek.

"You're supposed to be making love to her, not treating her like a little glass doll. You're satisfied with her calling your cock 'fine'?"

Ino doubled down, foolishly. "I just don't wanna hurt her, I'm big and I--"

Nanami growled, his hand tangling into the back of Ino's hair to yank Ino's head backwards. Nanami's voice rang deep and dark and desperate; "She said deeper. She said harder. She said faster. Do you need to be forced?"

Ino's lip puckered up, almost tearful, defiant, as if he hadn't been the one who had asked his mentor for help. Nanami nodded, coming to a slow realisation, before firmly, affectionately, slapping Ino's cheek once, twice, three times.

"Ah...I see. Well, if that's the only way you'll learn..."

Ino watched with a squirm in his belly, as his mentor, thick-bodied and tall, paced over to the bedside table, pulling out a bottle of lube.

By the time Nanami had walked back round to observe the way that Ino's cock had completely stilled within you, he had unzipped himself and hooked his own aching cock and balls out.

Still in his tie, his shoes, his harness, fully dressed, Nanami hissed as he slid one lube-wettened fist down his twitching length, gritting his teeth, his eyes blackened over by something altogether more military. He cast his eyes over the pair of you once more, barely more than a pair of kids in your early twenties, fucking like amateurs.

It wasn't your fault, Nanami reasoned, masturbating himself as if his cock could possibly get any harder. And so, he threw his attention back to his mentee.

"What are you waiting for, Ino? Deeper. Harder. Faster."

Ino shuddered, every fine sinew across his sculpted shoulders twitching, as his hips picked up a fractured, barely increased pace. You arched again, sighing into the almost there thrusts into your core, whimpering with frustration when Ino chased his own hips backwards at your insistent arching.

In immediate response, Nanami's free hand slapped Ino hard across the ass, eliciting a yelp from Ino. A muffled giggle burst forth from you, before you clapped a hand over your mouth. It threatened to bubble over, as you swore you saw the hint of a laugh at the corner of Nanami's mouth. Instead he rumbled again, to Ino's mortified blushes.

"Deeper. Harder. Faster."

"I am, Nanami--"

"I don't see you having to hold her in place. I don't hear the headboard rattling. I don't hear a single fucking noise from her."

By the time another minute of Ino's shallow, pitiful thrusts had passed, Nanami had made up his mind. Ino felt another slap to his ass, yelping as Nanami chased him up the bed. You scooched up beneath him, and your heart stuttered to feel your boyfriend pressed down to your chest, with Nanami arching above him, mounting him.

"Am I going to have to show you, Ino?"

That voice; so much calmer than Nanami was, in truth, with precum dripping onto Ino's ass. Ino felt every hair on his body stand on end, swallowing thickly. He felt Nanami's cock, longer and thicker than his own, heavy against the small of his back.

"I...I..."

"Well?"

"I...o-okay. Y-yeah. Show me."

A satisfied grunt from behind Ino...and the wet pumping of a bottle of lube. Ino felt Nanami whisper at his ear, and a thick, insistent nudging at his entrance.

"Even with less prep than you gave your girl, you'll take me hard, and deep, and fast. If that's the only way to show you."

Ino felt Nanami's bulbous, slippery cock head fuck into his entrance with little warning, and Ino collapsed onto his forearms above you, his hips finally flush with yours as he was forced deeper into your pussy. Nanami swore, cursing and pushing himself even deeper in one swift movement, to bury his cock fully inside Ino.

Ino whimpered between you and Nanami, and you bit your lip, burying your fingers into Ino's hair and whispering sweet nothings into his ear.

"...attaboy...show you what she needs, hmm? Fuck...so tight..."

Nanami appeared to be collecting himself above you both, panting and straining with the effort of giving Ino a moment to adjust. You threaded your other hand around Nanami's harness, your fingers tight against his chest, and he opened his eyes, heated. The hint of a smile was there again, and he looked into your eyes as he pulled almost completely out of Ino...before fucking into him again, immediately setting a ruthless pace.

You and Ino both crumpled as one, crushed beneath Nanami's overbearing force. The harsh drag and thrust of Nanami's cock in and out of Ino, moved Ino's hips for him. Ino's cock only hardened with Nanami's relentless pounding into his prostate, and you finally felt every single inch of Ino, forced into you to the hilt, finally giving you the belly-deep fullness you had craved for so long. Your guttural moan, and the way you dragged both Ino and Nanami closer by harness and hair, told Nanami he was finally hitting the mark.

"There you go...Ino...see?" Nanami panted, slamming himself into Ino's prone, twitching body. "Look at...at her now. Harder...deeper...faster. How does it feel...darling?"

"G-god-- o-oh my god-- so good so so good--augh--!"

The noises coming out of Ino were barely human, burned at both ends until his entire core was aflame. It took all of his strength simply to not crush you, and he found himself woefully out of control. He had only the vaguest, nebulous thought that his hips were being slammed into you with more force that he could ever generate himself...and you were crying his name in absolute bliss. Not begging him to stop. Not telling him it hurt. But, begging him for more, in desperate little babbles and whimpers.

Though Nanami's thrusts were brutal, they showed no sign of slowing. When he felt Ino's hole clenching around his cock, seeing the first signs of Ino's orgasm approaching, Nanami looped one thick forearm around Ino's neck, forcing Ino to arch up to him, and growling into Ino's ear.

"Not yet-- I don't think the lady's quite finished, is she? Don't be such a boy."

Ino sobbed into your neck, begging to be allowed completion, his voice wet against your skin as Nanami denied him his orgasm for the sake of your own. Ino's sloppy mumbling was barely coherent, combining with Nanami's fractious grunts and curses to give you the orgasm soundtrack of your dreams.

"--s'too much-- so f-full, sorry--s-sorry, I didn't...feels so good...m'gonna come-- babe--"

Reaching around Ino to you, and pulling back for just a moment, Nanami scooped your ass and thighs up into a harsh mating press, with Ino crushed between you both. With Nanami's enormous hands pushing your knees to your chest, and Ino's sobbing, forced fucking into you, you were reduced to divine whimpering, your pussy beginning to clench around Ino's twitching length.

The heavy pressure of Ino's weight forced against your clit and his belly-deep thrusts, sent you tumbling over the edge fast. Finally, your orgasm had teeth, and the cries that left you were hoarse with bliss.

Unable to look at Ino, with his tearstained face still buried in your neck, you instead cried your pleasure to Nanami, your eyes glossy, your face twisted as if in pain. Seeing the way his pupils dilated, and the way his hips stuttered, made you certain you were milking Nanami's cock, instead of your boyfriend's.

You heard Nanami's satisfied whispers guiding you through, feeling him admiring the way tears glittered on your lashes.

"--good girl...good girl, you knew...knew you could take it...clever girl..."

Ino followed you swiftly into oblivion, your plush fluttering walls dragging his orgasm as Nanami's cock against his prostate pushed it. Ino convulsed, a choking symphony of moans spilling over, unbidden. His legs kicked out against the bed, his hands clasping the sheets, while white-knuckled pleasure surged through him from head to toe.

You knew his seed would take time to trickle out of you tonight, so deeply seated was his ejaculation against your gulping cervix, that you wondered if any would make its way out of your cunt at all. Nanami was too far gone, husky, and still, somehow, chastising Ino through his pleasure.

"--listen...to your girl, and don't...don't come crying to me...if you can't satisfy her...don't deserve her if you don't listen to her...shit..."

Having done his duty, with commas of hair escaping over his forehead, Nanami buried himself to the hilt inside Ino and came with a hushed, broken roar. All the while that his teeth clenched, and his seed striped the inside of your boyfriend, you could have sworn that you felt the pulsing heat within you, instead.

Nanami groaned and murmured, his cock fucking slower, deeper, softer, his orgasm long and draining. You knew you wouldn't be able to look at him the same again, knowing the voice of his pleasure.

Finally, Nanami stilled above Ino, groaning and giving Ino's hair one firm ruffle, before pulling out with a hiss. Nanami stood back on shaking legs, surveying the wreckage before him, sniffing and swiping one hand back through his hair.

Cleaning himself, Nanami nodded to you. Ino was too fucked-out and spent to even begin to communicate, and covered you like a weighted blanket, filled with Nanami's cum, while his own filled you.

"Any problems," Nanami toned, calm and collected once more, "come to me."

"Y-yeah." You panted, crushed beneath Ino's whimpering weight. "I'll... I'll take it...from here."

[taegimood]

— call it what it is (c.sb) ♡

pairing: choi soobin x fem!reader genre: smut, fluff, best friends to ? lovers? rating: nsfw, mdni wc: 2.5k warnings: virgin!soobin, idol!soobin, softdom!reader?, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, messy cumshot, cum eating, brief use of petnames (baby, handsome), brief masturbation (m), some finger sucking, lowkey body worship? (m receiving), soobin horse cock but what else is new

a/n - trying to find some other fucking soob pictures to match the middle one was just impossible so i gave up lmao i’ve been reminded of why i never add photo headers.. i got lucky finding yeonjun’s within 30 seconds for the last fic 🙂‍↕️

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the lighting in soobin’s room is dim, the glow of his gaming setup situated on the desk in the corner offering just enough low light to cast the room in an unfamiliar new atmosphere, one that you haven’t ever felt in the countless times that you’ve been here before.

maybe it’s the quiet lull of having the dorm completely to yourselves tonight, or the clock ticking into single digit territory on the hour hand; maybe it’s the sudden vulnerability of this moment and the ones that led up to it.

maybe it’s the manner of what you’re about to do together; or maybe it’s the glow in the near-darkness that silhouettes your best friend so sensually as he stands in front of you while you’re leant back on the edge of his bed — his handsome face nervous and outlined by soft shadows as your eyes trail down his neck to the contours of his collarbones, past his chest and quick-beating heart to the gentle curve of his abs that stiffen slightly from the attention, or perhaps from the hesitant ministrations of his hand further down.

maybe it’s all of the above.

when you had come over earlier that evening for one of your typical hangout sessions, seizing the fact that soobin had no schedule tomorrow, you think it’s pretty safe to say that neither of you imagined it ending up like this.

the two of you were post anime binge and bingsu feast flopped across his bed, talking about anything and everything when the topic shifted to relationships and your conversation took a very interesting turn.

as close as you and soobin are, he’d never mentioned much about his sex life, and now you knew why: he didn’t actually have one.

you honestly weren’t too surprised when he, while talking about the difficulty of dating with his crowded idol life, somehow accidentally let it slip in frustration that he was still a virgin; and as red-faced and stuttery as he became while then attempting damage control to salvage his dignity, you were quick to reassure him with understanding words and a nonchalant smile.

and, as it turned out.. with an offer.

if he’d prefer his first time to be with someone he could trust, someone who would take care of him…

you don’t know what came over you when you carefully presented the idea.

you’d be totally lying if you said you had never considered what it’d be like to be with soobin physically; he was strikingly gorgeous from head to toe, after all. his gentle demeanor and dimpled laugh never made it any easier for you, either, but whenever your mind dared tiptoeing the line into romantic territory, well, you were always very quick to reel it back in.

until.… now.

you suppose there’s no other way to explain it as fondness blooms in your chest when you look at him, his trembling hands having fumbled over the buttons of his shirt until you’d replaced them gently with your own and did it for him instead — butterflies in your tummy at the sound of his quiet, shaky breaths every time your fingers brushed his skin — his face so close to yours, swallowing hard when you smiled softly up at him in reassurance.

there’s no other way to explain the affection that washed over you as he melted into your lips when you asked if it was okay to kiss him; or his breathy moans as your lips then made a home across the soft expanse of his neck after guiding his hands to begin undressing you in turn.

there’s no other way to explain the way that your heart swelled when he shyly turned off the overhead light and allowed you to trace kisses down his body as you sat on the edge of his bed and worked his sweatpants down with careful hands.

each time you moved to take things to the next step you’d look up at him for confirmation; and each time you were met with yearning, a trusting anticipation in soobin’s brown eyes that made you want to give him everything you could and more.

even in the near-dark you could still make out the rosy hue that colored his cheeks when you moaned at the sight of his cock, thick and long and pretty and just plain big as it came up to slap against his tummy once freed, leaking tip now eye-level with you from where he stood in front of the bed.

sensing the tension in his body, you’d slipped off the rest of your clothes so that he wouldn’t feel so vulnerable;

leaning back on your hands to gaze at him, watching the way his widened eyes flitted across your naked figure, lingering several times on your tits — you noted this for later — and you couldn’t help the pace of your own heartbeat as your pussy throbbed from the sight of him.

“you’re beautiful, bin.”

your soft words had startled him out of his trance, his eyes even wider then as they flickered up to meet yours;

“so are you,” he breathed, a whisper, cheeks reddening further in the dim light, and you could see the desire pooled in his stare.

“binnie.. can you touch yourself for me?” you’d asked carefully, voice sweet like honey, and the premature twitch of his cock was enough to send wetness leaking down between your thighs.

so now, as you watch him hesitantly stroke himself, large hand almost making his large cock look normal-sized until you remember that everything about him is just big, your body betrays you as your legs squeeze together and you can feel the drool threatening the corners of your lips at the expectancy of having something to wrap them around.

he’s biting down hard on his plush bottom lip as his eyes travel over you again, and you can tell that he’s trying not to breathe too heavy as they stay glued on your tits until you slide forward to the very edge of the bed.

the movement of his hand falters as the sudden proximity of your face so close to his cock sends a fresh bead of pre-cum to his tip;

“you don’t have to be nervous,” you murmur gently, looking up at him with a comforting smile. “can i touch you?”

his breath catches as he hesitates only for a second before he’s quickly nodding his head with a shakily-whispered “yes.”

his eyes follow your every move as you slide your own much smaller hand over his bigger one to remove it from his length — you shiver at the size difference — and when you gently wrap your hand around the thick base of his cock and lean in to place a feather-light kiss against his lower abdomen, the soft sigh that leaves soobin’s lips is suddenly the prettiest sound that you’ve ever heard.

you stroke him slowly, soon figuring out the amount of pressure that he likes judging from the staggers in his breath when you apply it; you have nothing on your mind other than to make him feel good as your lips trail over his skin, placing soft kisses along his abs, suckling a pretty mark onto his hip bone as your thumb caresses the head of his cock.

he moans, embarrassed at first until you look up at him through your lashes in a way that tells him you’ve never found anyone more sexy than this; and after that he doesn’t try holding back as much from the pretty sounds escaping his throat.

and when you finally lick at his tip before your free hand comes up to cup his balls and your lips slowly sink down on his shaft, soobin’s head is tipping back into a deep groan as his hips twitch forwards, your throat constricting around him at the sudden added length and your pussy gushing a fresh wave of arousal between your legs from the lewdness of it all.

god, soobin, you’re so fucking hot.

you’d tell him as much if your mouth weren’t stuffed full of his cock.

you haven’t even taken him half way yet when his tip nudges the back of your throat, your spit sliding down his shaft as you use your hands to pump whatever you can’t fit in your mouth; his own hands have flown to your hair now as he watches you with parted lips and half-lidded eyes, breathing heavy around moans and whispers of incoherent curses, grounding himself in the feeling of your strands between his fingers as he fights to control his hips from bucking forwards.

“s-shit-! oh my god-”

it’s only a couple of minutes later that you can tell he’s already close to bursting as you pull off of him for air with spit stringing from your lips, hands pumping steadily up and down from base to tip as you watch his face, feeling a mix of pride and affection at how fucked-out he already is as his eyes meet yours.

“you’re close, baby. do you wanna cum now or wait ‘til you’re inside me?”

you shouldn’t have said that.

the visual you just gave him shoots straight down to soobin’s cock as his abs tighten and his shaft twitches in your hands, a strangled moan that you think was supposed to be a curse flying from his lips as he cums, thick ropes of release covering your neck and chest and dripping down your tits, his mouth hung open as he watches and only cums harder — you get over your surprise quickly as you wrap your lips around him and suck, coaxing the rest out of him as he cries out with a tightening grip on your hair that makes you keen.

he cums more than any other guy you’ve been with and you swallow every remaining drop that you can, finally pulling off of him as he’s left trembling, making sure he’s watching as you look up at him and slowly swipe your fingers through the thick pearly liquid that drips down your skin, bringing it up to your lips to suck clean.

“fuck,” he whimpers, completely dazed, chest heaving, eyes dancing over your face and down to your cum-stained tits.

you lean in and give one last slow lick up the underside of his cock and over the tip; he hisses at the sensitivity, abs clenching, and when you place a gentle kiss to the head before moving back with a smile, soobin swears he’s seen heaven.

you take his hand and guide him to sit down, which his jelly-like legs are thankful for, urging him to lean back against the headboard as you soothe your thumb over the love bite on his hip and brush his hair out of his face with your free hand.

“how was it?” you ask playfully, tilting your head to the side, and now that he sits at this angle the glow from the desk illuminates his face instead of shining from behind him; your eyes trace the details of his hazy expression as he rests his head back against the wall and watches you.

“you’re fucking amazing…” he mumbles, still slightly catching his breath, face flushed and fucked out and beautiful.

“so are you,” you whisper teasingly as you lean in to capture his lips in a slow kiss, which he gratefully accepts, and you’re not sure how you’ve ever made it this far before tonight without the feeling of his lips on yours.

you push away the possibilities and consequences of tonight’s actions to the back of your mind.

right now, all that matters is him.

“s-sorry that i…” he’s suddenly shy as he looks away from you, and you already know what he’s trying to say when his voice trails off awkwardly, “i didn’t mean to.. you know…”

“why are you sorry for being sexy as hell?”

the surprise on his face makes you laugh, and his lips curl into a bashful smile when you continue, “i mean damn, soob, i knew you were hot before but seriously..”

you coyly poke at one of his dimples. “i’m flattered that you came that fast to the thought of fucking me.”

you can see the effect of your words in his eyes as he bites his lip.

“about that…. i still.. i mean, if you still want to, i….”

his voice grows quieter. “…i still want to.”

you can hear the vulnerability and hope in his tone that he probably thinks he’s better at hiding than he is.

“soobin…”

you take his hand in yours, and his eyes widen when you slowly guide it down between your legs, his sharp inhale a clear indication of the gushing wetness he feels there along with the warmth of your cunt.

you lean in closer, his hungry eyes flickering back up to yours; “what do you think, handsome?” you tilt your head again.

“think i want it too?”

his stare locks onto your every move when you bring his hand back up and wrap your lips around his wet fingers, swirling your tongue around them as you suck them clean and release them from your mouth with a pop.

“hm?”

his eyes shoot back up to yours.

he doesn’t trust his own voice as he swallows thickly with a nod and you find that he’s rock hard again when you straddle his lap, sighing in relief as you finally feel some friction from the way your wet folds glide slowly over his shaft.

you wrap an arm around his shoulders, taking his hand in your free one again to bring it up to your plush chest, his eyes honed in there immediately, and he lets out a quiet moan at the feeling of your soft tit in his grasp as he squeezes.

“you trust me?” you ask gently, and soobin looks up at you.

the glow from his desk makes his eyes shine.

his free arm circles around you and his face is so close to yours that you can feel the warmth of his breath fanning over your lips when he whispers,

“yes.”

and when you lift your hips with a smile to line him up at your entrance, promising “i’ll take care of you,” as you press your forehead to his and slowly sink down on him, watching the way his brows pinch together and eyes flutter shut, his lips parting in a breathy moan as he clutches you closer and whispers your name —

well, there’s no other way to explain the feeling that explodes in your chest like fireworks than to just call it what it is.

it must be love.

[oneforthemunny]

🧸🍯🎸 this is mine

for your blurb, rockstar!eddie, fluff, lore/flashback. set during the sneaking around phase, like a month before the engagement for timeline purposes.

"You're going back to the hotel room?" Jeff gawked, mouth nearly dropping at the words he was sure he was hallucinating.

"Yeah," Eddie flicked the lighter, bringing it to his usual post show joint. "Not really feelin' it."

"Not- Ed, we're in Amsterdam." Jeff scoffed.

"And?"

"You fuckin' love Amsterdam." Jeff blinked in awe, partial confusion.

"Yeah, I used to. Kinda boring now. Seen it, done it, need somethin' more exciting than hookers and weed." Eddie shrugged as nonchalantly as he could, his hands twitching with irritation, anxious to get into the car and back to the hotel.

"Lemme know if it's somethin' good, though. Maybe I'll stop by later." Ducking into the black car, Eddie nodded at the rest of his bandmates, shutting the door quickly.

His knee bounced the entire car ride, all seven minutes of it, ringed fingers tapping on the edge of his torn jeans. The car had barely slowed to a stop before Eddie was out, throwing a wad of Euros his tour manager had given him towards the driver, practically sprinting towards the private elevator entrance.

"Hey, uh, you don't happen to know what time it is in Los Angeles right now, do you?" Eddie turned towards the hotel manager accompanying him on the ride to the penthouse.

"No, sir, but I can get the front desk to call and-"

"-That's alright. Thank you." Eddie nodded, stepping towards the door before it opened, sliding through the opening gap.

"Looks great!" He turned, giving a half grin and a thumbs up, jamming the key into the lock.

"Uh, if you need anything, Mr. Munson-"

"-I won't even hesitate to let you know. I promise." Eddie cut off the nervous hotel manager, too familiar with the schtick- too many hotel rooms, all saying the same thing. Normally, he'd be less pushy and in a rush, on his best behavior with the staff because- "Fuck it, they're just doing their job. Why would I be an asshole about it?"

But tonight, he had bigger plans. He'd timed the closing number just right, no off topic rants or mid song chaos like usual- his tour manager should be thankful. No, he'd timed it all perfectly, striding over to the phone, dialing out for an international number.

The phone rang once, twice- Eddie's leg hadn't stopped bouncing until,

"I thought you said you'd call me at four." The familiar playful purr in your tone had his heart skipping, a nearly boyish grin spreading across his face. "It's almost five, here."

"I'm sorry, baby. Had to wrap a few things up at the venue. Didn't plan on it being late." Eddie cradled the phone to his ear, leaning back on the pristine bed. "What are you up to?"

"Hm, about to go out to dinner with a few friends." You sighed, nearly bored, like your heart wasn't fluttering the same way his was.

"Friends? Any I should be worried about?" Eddie's voice dropped, a low gravel in his tone that made heat rush through your veins.

"I think I should be asking you that, rockstar." You teased back. "You're the one in Amsterdam, and who called me late. Too busy with the hookers?"

"Psh, you caught me." Eddie snorted sarcastically. "Got one here with me right now if you wanna talk to her."

"You better not." Your tone clipped, teetering away from playful and towards possessive. "I'd hate to have to catch a flight down there."

"Well, in that case..." Eddie teased, rolling over on the bed, the phone chord stretching with him.

"Eddie,"

"'M just messin' with you. No hookers here. Just me." Eddie muttered, the silence of the room falling around him. "Wouldn't be mad if you did catch a flight, though. I've missed you, baby."

Your cheeks pricked with excited heat, swaying with the phone pressed to your ear. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I've missed you too." You whispered, like it was a secret. Maybe it was, to everyone else. "What are you doing tonight?"

"Smokin'." Eddie hummed, patting his bedside table, looking for the pre-rolled joints he'd requested. "Sleepin'."

"That doesn't sound like much fun." Eddie could practically hear your pout through the phone.

"Eh, it's not bad. A little lonely though." Eddie sighed. "Wish I had someone here with me to keep me company."

"You better be talking about me, Munson." You clipped.

Eddie grinned, a huff of laughter floating though the other end. "You know I'm talking about you. Everyone else is boring t'me now, baby. You ruined them, ruined me."

You bit back a giggle, lips curing in a grin. "Where's your next stop?"

"Uh, Berlin." Eddie muttered. "Leave tomorrow."

"Maybe... Maybe I'll stop in and see you." Your heart skipped when you suggested it. "Maybe we can go back to that cafe."

"You're too good to me." Eddie grinned, lazy and silly. "I'll pick you up at the airport."

"No, just send a car-"

"-I'll pick you up." Eddie insisted. "Don't worry, baby, I'll keep it hush-hush. Very low profile." He could practically hear your smile. "I don't wanna keep you from your friends tonight, so I'll get off the-"

"-You're not." You shook your head. "But I should probably go before Farrah kills me... and I need to call Jaques and let him know I'll need the plane tomorrow."

"I can't wait to see you." Eddie grinned into the receiver.

"You too." You squeaked, a giggly blush practically spilling through the phone. "I'll call you with the times."

"Alright, sweetheart. Have fun tonight. I'll see you soon." Eddie paused, his tongue running over his bottom lip. "Love you, baby."

"I love you." You sighed sweetly. "Don't party too hard. I'll see you tomorrow."

[simplyraeblue]

hunter and hunted (jjk)

college (summer) break au: a fic in which y/n is pining over Yuji's older brother Sukuna, while unbeknownst to her, Choso is doing the same thing for her. contents: sukuna x reader, choso x reader, modern college AU, yuji and choso are brothers, sukuna and yuji are brothers, smut warning, fem reader

chapter warning/tags: choso confesses his feelings, lil bit of angst, mention of sex, mentions of prior trauma, suggestive themes, I have subconsciously picked a side, oops I don’t know when this will end A/N: little later than I intened to post, but here it is! I hope you all enjoy, I'll be diving deeper into choso x reader with more slight sukuna x reader in the background (one sided on his part). I'm currently over 2,000 miles away from home visiting my boyfriend so I'm not sure if an update will come this week or not, we shall see! (｡- .•)

index part nine | part eleven

part ten word count: 3,446

the next morning, a surprising calm settled over the cabin: Sukuna was gone. Yuji gathered everyone together, sharing the news that Sukuna had packed up and slipped away early, leaving only a brief text for his brother: a simple “see you at home”. you felt a twing of guilt, but it was overshadowed by the sense of relief that washed over you. 

Without Sukuna’s chaotic energy looming, the last day at the cabin unfolded exactly as you had hoped. more hiking, more fun, and more drinking around the campfire.

as the day came to a close, a bittersweet feeling settled in. you didn’t want it to end; the thought of returning home meant facing Sukuna again, and it also marked the approach of summer’s end. after a long, well-deserved hot shower, you tackled the last of your packing. finally, you slipped into bed, cozying up with a book while soft lofi music played in the background – Choso had rubbed off on you. 

just as you were getting lost in your story, a gentle knock interrupted your peace. you placed your bookmark and got up to answer the door. when you opened it, Choso stood there, dressed in gray sweatpants and an oversized black tee. his dark hair was half tied back, the rest falling messily around his neck. 

“can I come in?” he asked softly, and you nodded, stepping aside to let him in.

“what’s up? can’t sleep?” concern creased your brow as you studied him – it was unusual for him to seek you out like this.

“something like that.” he replied, offering a lopsided smile that made you feel a little lighter.

“well, come in and hang out then.” you motioned for him to sit on the bed, the comforting scent of his cologne wrapping around you as he passed. “I can’t sleep either. I’m not sure I want to go back tomorrow.”

“wanting to stay away from Sukuna a little longer, I assume?” he asked, settling into a comfortable spot. you nodded, and he chuckled softly. “can’t say I disagree with you there.”

you settled back onto the bed, the atmosphere in the room shifting slightly as the two of you exchanged glances. an unspoken tension hung in the air, a mix of comfort and something deeper that neither of you dared to acknowledge. 

Choso leaned back on his hands, his eyes wandering to the window, where rays of moonlight peeked through the blinds. “it’s been nice here, hasn’t it.” he said, his voice almost reflective. “I wish we could just stay forever.” 

“yeah, it really has been.” you smiled, heart fluttering at the thought of the moments you’ve spent with everyone. “no worries, no responsibilities… just us.”

he turned to look at you, his expression earnest. “you know, I think you’ve made this trip a lot more fun.”

your cheeks warmed at his words, and you shrugged playfully, trying to keep the mood light. “you call punching Sukuna in my favor fun?” the corners of your mouth curled into a teasing smile, but underneath, a flicker of tension lingered.

the air thickened with unspoken thoughts, and you both shifted slightly, a moment of hesitation hanging between you. Choso broke the silence, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. “I don’t want to push you to talk about it – but do you know why he was saying those things?”

you wished you could tell him everything – the truth behind Sukuna’s words, the confusion and hurt that tangled inside you. but while you were staying in their house, sharing their space, the words stuck in your throat.

“ah, you know how he can be.” you replied nonchalantly, trying to brush it off. “always trying to get under someone’s skin.”

Choso’s brows furrowed slightly, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart race. “I just can’t seem to figure out why he seemed to be targeting you all weekend.” his eyes roamed your face, searching for any hint of the emotions swirling beneath the surface. he wasn’t blind; he felt the shift in dynamics, but the reasons escaped him.

you let out a nervous chuckle, the sound shaky as you tried to swallow the feelings building up inside. “maybe he’s jealous that I’m hanging out with you more than him.” you joked, but it was a half-truth. lately, you had found yourself gravitating towards Choso in a way that felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

Choso hummed in agreement, a knowing look in his eyes. “he did seem annoyed that you and I were together.”

“I don’t know why, but we’ll never be able to figure out his thoughts.” you shrugged, but as Choso glanced at you, a mixture of surprise and amusement flickered across his face. “what? did I say something funny?”

suddenly Choso burst out laughing, his cheeks tinged with pink as his head fell back. “y’know, I thought you might’ve noticed and just never said a word – but now I know you really haven’t realized.”

embarrassment crept over you like a warm tide. “realized what?” you asked, your mind racing to piece together some hidden meaning behind his laughter.

Choso’s laughter faded, replaced by a serious expression as he reached for your hand. his skin was warm against your palm, maybe even slightly clammy with nerves, as he held your hand gently in his. your heart started to pound in your chest – were you even really breathing at this point?

“man, even Yuji had realized. I’ll have to tell him he beat you to it.”

“what are you talking about?” your voice came out as a whisper, tinged with confusion as you tried to calm your breathing.

“why do you think I don’t seem to leave your side?” Choso asked softly, one of his fingers brushing your knuckles gently, sending a jolt of electricity through you.

the weight of his words hung in the air, each syllable loaded with meaning. your heart raced, and for a moment, the world outside faded into a blur. you could see it now, the way his eyes lingered on you, the way he seemed to draw strength from your presence.

“Choso…” you breathed, caught between hope and fear, your heart yearning for something you both seemed to want but were too afraid to voice. 

 “do you really not see it?” he asked, his tone soft but insistent. “I mean, I thought it was obvious.” he squeezed your hand gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. 

you felt a flutter in your stomach. “see what, exactly?” you managed, your pulse quickening.

Choso took a breath, his eyes steady as he searched yours. “how we – I mean, how I feel about you.” the confession hung between you, heavy with meaning, and the realization struck you like lightning. 

memories came rushing back, little moments you shared with him that should have set off some sort of alarm. he had a crush on you. but for how long? 

your heart raced as you processed his words, a wave of warmth spreading through you. “you… you like me?” you stammered, suddenly feeling vulnerable under his gaze.

“yeah.” he replied, a shy smile breaking across his face. “I’ve liked you for a while now. it’s just… easier to be around you. you make everything feel lighter.”

you felt a rush of warmth flood your cheeks. “I had no idea.” you admitted, your voice shaky yet filled with wonder. he liked you… he really liked you? 

Choso looked thoughtful for a moment, his fingers still entwined with yours, the warmth of his touch sending shivers through you. “well, I never really had much of a chance to show you how I felt. between you attached at the hip with Yuji and your long-term crush on Sukuna, it never felt right.”

you groaned in annoyance, rolling your eyes, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “ugh, don’t remind me. that’s done and over with, in the past.” the mere mention of Sukuna brought back memories you’d rather forget, and you felt a wave of frustration wash over you.

Choso shifted awkwardly, his eyes darting away for a brief moment before returning to yours, a mix of shyness and determination flickering in his gaze. he desperately wanted to ask what had changed, but he held back. now wasn’t the time to dig into the shadows of your past; he was finally getting you to open up, to see what had been right in front of you all along, and he didn’t want to jeopardize that. 

“I hate to ask, but do you… do you maybe feel the same way?” his voice was barely above a whisper, almost timid as if he feared the answer.

your thoughts spun, pulled from the depths of uncertainty back to the warmth radiating from him. you looked at him, seeing the vulnerability in his eyes, almost pleading with you to let him down gently if you needed to.

“to be honest… yes. maybe.” you bit your lip, searching for the right words. “I feel something, I know that much. I guess I haven’t allowed myself to think on it. I mean, I’m living with you and your brother, who also happens to be my best friend.”

the reminder of Sukuna weighed heavily on your thoughts, already tainting the idea of “best friend’s brother”.

taking a deep breath, you watched as hurt flickered across Choso’s face, and a pang of regret tugged at your heart. “but, I’m willing to think about it. is that okay?”

a spark of hope ignited within Choso, and a tentative smile broke through his shyness, lighting up his features. “of course, take all the time you need.” his voice was soft but firm, as if he wanted to reassure you that there was no pressure.

“just know that I don’t want you to wait for me.” you continued, nudging your shoulder playfully against his. “I’m sure there are plenty of women out there vying for your attention.

Choso’s cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink, and he shifted, his gaze dropping to the ground for a moment before he met your eyes again. “none that compare to you.” his words were simple, yet caused a flutter in your stomach. 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

just like last time, you were nestled in the backseat between Yuji and Choso for the drive home. and as promised Choso passed his earbuds over to you, smiling warmly when you offered him one to share. 

since your conversation last night, you’d been watching him carefully, taking notice of his actions that used to seem so normal and now showed his true feelings. you’d have to corner Yuji and interrogate him when you got home. but it was nice – the feeling you got around Choso. 

Sukuna hadn’t ever really pursued you, not like this, and everything had mostly felt one-sided until that fateful night. 

you had a lot of thinking to do; you’d pursued one brother already, what kind of person would you be if you went after the other? then again, no one knew about what had happened between you and Sukuna, so only you would have to answer to yourself. 

besides, you knew Choso was different from his not-really-brother.  

you fell asleep on Choso shoulder on the drive home again, this time not worried about any awkwardness that might arise when you woke up. his presence comforted you, along with the lofi he’d recommended for the ride. because of him, you hadn’t thought about what might happen when you made it home.

but you should’ve known better. not all peace can last.

you were mortified – no scarred – to be the first one in the door of the house to find Sukuna and another woman… fornicating… on the couch in the living room. Yuji and Choso bumped into your back, almost protesting your sudden stop until they too saw what you were witnessing.

Yuji grabbed your hand, yanking you back outside and slamming the door behind him to alert Sukuna of your presence. 

“did you not tell him we were on the way back?” Choso demanded of Yuji, his face contorted in with annoyance.

“I swear I did! I even gave him out eta!” Yuji exclaimed with bright red cheeks. you could only stand, frozen, staring at the wooden door in front of you as if you could still see what was going on behind it. Yuji’s hands came down on your shoulders, concern crossing his features. “are you okay? jesus, I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“I think I might throw up.” Choso groaned and rubbed his face. 

before you could respond to Yuji, the front door opened again, revealing Sukuna with at least his pants now on. he didn’t show any remorse, or embarrassment, as he merely smiled directly at you and ignored the other two. 

“didn’t hear you come in.” Sukuna told you, his smirk causing you to grit your teeth in frustration. “or, didn’t really care is more accurate.”

“you couldn’t have warned us?” Yuji questioned.

Sukuna ignored Yuji, stepping down one stair to get closer to you. “did ya like what ya saw?” you felt Choso’s body still next to you, probably fighting the urge to punch him again.

with the confession you’d received from Choso last night, you felt a surge of sudden confidence course through you. you wanted to wipe that smug look off of Sukuna’s face. “not really, it was kind of small.” you managed to bite out.

you might not have held it together, had Yuji not burst into laughter at your words. Choso felt an extreme sense of pride in you as he heard your old self resurface to take Sukuna down a peg. but Sukuna, however, only felt frustrated, maybe hurt, and surprisingly embarrassed.

the eldest brother merely tsked at you, turning on his heel to retreat into the house. Yuji and Choso both congratulated you for handling yourself, but you only felt hot all over – you knew you’d lied, Sukuna knew it, so why didn’t he push back? 

the three of you waited outside for a bit longer, only entering when you deemed it safe. there was no sign of the white-haired woman from earlier, and you assumed that Sukuna had taken her upstairs to his bedroom. 

you had always known Sukuna to be a bit of a player… so why did you now feel sick to your stomach at the thought of him with another woman?

throughout the afternoon and well into the night, your mind was a relentless whirlwind, circling back to that infuriating smirk he wore when you caught him in the act. why was it bugging you so damn much?

after Choso and Yuji had gone to bed, you quietly slipped into the kitchen, seeking solace in a pint of double fudge ice cream. you had nearly devoured half a pint when you heard the unmistakable sound of a door creaking open and shutting upstairs, followed by heavy footsteps descending. 

“eating your feelings, huh?” Sukuna’s voice broke through the stillness as he rounded the corner, catching sight of you in your pajamas, chocolate smudged all over your mouth.

you swallowed the mouthful you had just taken, frantically wiping at the mess with a napkin. “I don’t have feelings to eat away, actually. are you projecting your issues onto me, Sukuna.” you were taken aback by your own defiance; it felt strange to stand your ground against him again.

he chuckled, plucking a spoon from the drawer before leaning over and stealing a bite of your ice cream. you shot him a glare, surprised by his audacity. did he really think things could back to how they once were?

“nope. just ran out of stamina earlier and needed a boost.” there it was again – his infuriatingly arrogant demeanor, as if he thrived on getting under your skin.

“what, did your girlfriend leave already?” you shot back, attempting to keep your voice steady.

Sukuna paused, holding up his index finger as if to half the insults swirling in your mind. “first, she’s not a girlfriend. probably won’t see her again. second, she left while you were hiding in your room.”

the thought struck you like a lightning bolt: did you hurt her the way you hurt me?

it wasn’t until you caught the stunned expression on Sukuna’s face that you realized the words had slipped out before you could reign them in. the shock in his wide eyes mirrored the warmth creeping up your cheeks. there was no taking it back now. with the house quiet and your heart racing, a surge of courage rose within you, pushing you to confront the truth.

“did you hurt her the way you hurt me? did you leave bruises, bleeding bite marks, everything that you made me deal with after you kicked me out?” oh god, it was word vomiting out of you at this point – everything you’d held back, shoved so deep into your soul and fought to conceal surfaced in a fit of rage you could no longer contain.

you pressed on, your voice rising slightly. “did you toss a towel at her and tell her to leave too? did you show her any sign of care or emotion, or was I the only one denied that kindness?”

“Now wait a minute-”

“did you ever ask what she wanted?” you shouted, fists clenched at your side, the ice cream forgotten as it topped off the counter and began to drip and melt into a puddle. the mess mirrored your internal chaos, but you were too consumed by anger to care.

Sukuna only stared. that was all he could do, and it pissed you off more than if he’d said something else. his eyes were wide – you assumed from surprise that you were fighting back. 

unbeknownst to you, you were wrong. that glimmer of surprise you saw was Sukuna trying to replay that night, searching his memories for what he’d done wrong. had you not enjoyed it? had he not… done it right? done right by you? 

as he finally opened his mouth to say something, you held up your hand to stop him. “y’know, I don’t really want to hear it. you’ve been an ass ever since then; I almost gave you the benefit of the doubt, but you fell off the face of the earth around me. I’m going to bed – finish that ice cream if you want.”

you stomped off to your room, leaving a stunned Sukuna standing frozen in the kitchen, his brain fighting to comprehend the words you’d just hurled at him. it wasn’t until your door had slammed shut that he snapped out of it. he shook his head, trying to recollect himself before going back to his room, deserting the mess of ice cream on the counter. 

he’d only done what others had enjoyed in the past. in the moment, he thought you enjoyed it too. was he supposed to do something different? is that why you’ve been so angry with him? he’d chalked it up to you wanting to put on a front in the eyes of everyone else, but this past weekend had proven him wrong.

when he had seen how comfortably you leaned into Choso, how you seemed to pull away in favor of the younger brother, it had struck a nerve deep within Sukuna. it felt like a dagger twisting in his chest, and the realization that you might have tossed his aside sent a surge of jealousy through him. 

that’s why he had exploded in anger this weekend, lashing out with hurtful words that hung in the air like smoke. he couldn’t shake the feeling that you had chosen someone else over him.

as his thoughts spiraled into chaos, he climbed the stairs, each step heavy with conflicting emotions. reaching the top, he found the other half of the problem standing in the doorway opposite of his. when Sukuna’s eyes locked with Choso’s, he was met with a look of darkness, an unsettling mix of disappointment and anger that spoke volumes without a word.

“so, you heard all that, huh?” Sukuna managed to say, his voice barely a whisper, the pain evident in each syllable. it was a simple question, but it carried the weight of everything unsaid.

in response, Choso simply slammed his door, the force reverberating through the hallway and rattling the walls.

down in your room, completely unaware of the storm brewing above, you assumed it was Sukuna who had slammed his door in frustration. little did you know, the tension had escalated to a point where your carefully guarded secret was on the brink of being blown wide open.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . taglist: @nighttwingg @sweetsformysoul @casualpoetrytaco @lvingd3adg0rl @haikomaiko @csolya @deathlypink @sad-darksoul @elisedylandy @jinxiewritings @aldebrana @ravester @futuristiccurlyhair @san-it-is-i-guess @marie-is-in-the-dark I hope I got everyone, and I hope the tagging worked for all of you! thank you so much for liking this enough to be tagged, it means the world to me! xoxo if you'd like to be added to the taglist let me know! ♡ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

[littlefireball]

ʜᴊ|ꜱᴀᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ (ᴍ)

ᴘɪʀᴀᴛᴇ ᴄᴀᴘᴛᴀɪɴ ʜᴏɴɢᴊᴏᴏɴɢ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ꜰᴋ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀɪɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ|ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴋɪᴅɴᴀᴘᴘɪɴɢ, ʀᴏʙʙᴇʀʏ|ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴇx|ᴘᴇʀɪᴏᴅ ꜱᴇx|ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ʙʀᴇᴀꜱᴛ ᴘʟᴀʏ|ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ|ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴄᴀᴜɢʜᴛ(?)|ᴄᴏɴꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.9ᴋ

Summary: The tranquil existence was shattered today by the merciless pirates. You surrendered to the overwhelming tide of despair, letting it engulf you. Yet, in that moment of darkness, a figure emerged to rescue you. But is this hero a beacon of hope or a harbinger of doom?

The golden rays of the morning sun filter through the window, warming your face as you rise. Just like every other day, you gather your belongings and step outside, exchanging friendly greetings with the neighbors before unlocking the door to the café right on schedule.

All is as it should be.

"Good morning, Y/N!" called out a familiar voice. It was a middle-aged man, a loyal customer who always ordered the same sandwich without fail.

"Morning!" you replied, already moving with practiced ease to prepare his breakfast.

"How're you doing?" 

"Fine I guess." 

"It's good to hear." He sighed. "Did you hear the news? Pirates have been causing quite a stir lately.

"Yeah… all we can do is hope they steer clear of our town."

"Let's hope so." He smirked helplessly. "Maybe I should just pack up and find a new place."

"Pack up? Where?"

"I'm not sure, just anywhere that feels safe." He shrugged. "What about you? Aren't you thinking of moving?"

"I wish I could. But, you know… my funds are pretty tight."

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine. Here's your sandwich."

"Thanks." He settled the bill and walked out, leaving you alone in the café.

Just as you turned around to tidy up the table, a loud shock caught you off guard. 

"Run!!" The once tranquil town erupted into chaos, and you peered out the window, heart racing with dread. Tons of men wielding a machete swung their weapons menacingly, demanding that the terrified residents surrender their belongings. The air was filled with desperate cries and frantic screams as people scattered in every direction. 

Without a moment's hesitation, you dashed to the door, but just as you reached for the lock, a group of men burst in, kicking the door wide open. You stumbled to the floor, mortified, and before you could regain your footing to fight back, one of the men seized you roughly.

"Let go of me, you scoundrel!" you shouted, thrashing against his grip, but the pirate's hand clamped down on your wrist like a vice.  

"Shut your mouth, you wench!" he barked. The ship rocked violently beneath you as you were dragged onto the deck, your struggles futile against the chains that bound you. The laughter of the pirates echoed around you as they shoved you aside. Helpless, you watched in horror as the small shop you had poured your heart into was ransacked, the townsfolk fleeing in terror, and the once vibrant community fell into an eerie stillness.

"Hey, see this baby girl~how cute you are!" " "Leave me alone, you filthy scum!" Your voice quivered with a mix of fear and defiance as you glared at the pirate who had captured you. 

One of them, should be the captain, a cruel smirk playing on his lips, approached you with a lecherous gleam in his eyes. "A feisty one, aren't you? We'll see how long that lasts," he sneered, his breath reeking of rum and malice. "Set sail!"  

As the boat glides farther into the distance, the town gradually fades from view. The lively chatter of vendors hawking their wares in the bustling market is replaced by the lingering echoes of laughter that grate on your nerves.The salty sea air stung your eyes as you struggled against the chains that bound you to the wooden post. 

Tsk…

The crashing waves echoed around you, a constant reminder of your precarious situation. 

Frantic escape ideas raced through your mind. Yet, you were a land dweller, and diving into the ocean means dying. What options do you have? Can you really call out for someone to rescue you? Here you are, in the heart of the sea—who could—

"Turn left!!!!!It's ATEEZ's ship!!" A loud cry jolted you from your thoughts. Just as you were about to grasp the situation, everything unfolded before your eyes. A deafening roar erupted from the left side of the ship, causing it to lurch violently and sending terror through the crew. The sturdy vessel splintered, hurling pirates overboard, and you tumbled into the frigid sea.

The icy water enveloped you, and you fought to break the surface, but the ocean constricted your breath and drained your strength. As despair set in, you surrendered to the darkness. Just then, strong arms seized you, pulling you upward. Your vision blurred, obscuring your savior's identity, and consciousness slipped away.

—---

Coughing violently, you expelled the salty seawater that had filled your mouth. Your breaths came in rapid gasps, a primal instinct driving you to inhale as if the very air might slip away. As clarity returned, you realized that you were still aboard the vessel... but the faces of the crew surrounding you seemed unfamiliar.

"Are you awake?" A gentle voice broke through the haze, and you turned to see a man clad in a flowing white robe, his expression warm and reassuring.  

"Where... am I?" you managed to whisper, your voice barely above a breath.  

"A ship, obviously," Yunho replied. "You fell into the sea and Jongho saved you." 

The vivid image of the recent attack flickered on the screen, and a wave of dread washed over you as you gazed at the man standing before you. ATEEZ, you recalled, infamous for their ruthless piracy. What would they do? Would they end your life? But then again, why would they bother to rescue you?

"It's perfectly normal to feel a bit disoriented right now. It's a common reaction after being submerged in water..." The man's voice, surprisingly calm, began to ease the tension in your chest. Perhaps they weren't as terrifying as the tales suggested? Still, you knew better than to let your guard down.

"Is she alright?" At that moment, Hongjoong gently knocked and opened the door. His striking features made your heart race. Despite your reluctance to admit it, he was undeniably handsome, far from the "demon" the stories painted him to be.

"Yah, she is just a bit frightened," Yunho said as he rose to his feet, and Hongjoong nodded, his gaze remained fixed on you.

"What's your name, lady?"

"Y/N..."

"I'm Hongjoong, the captain. This is Yunho, our doctor." You nodded as he continued, "I'm sorry for your fall into the sea. It was indeed our attack that caused the ship you were on to sink."

"No... I owe you my gratitude. You were the ones who saved me."

He shrugged with a warm smile. "Just take some time to rest, and we'll arrange for you to be taken to the nearest town."

You nodded, and they stepped out, leaving you to gather your thoughts. You stumbled out of bed, your feet heavy as you made your way to the door, only to be met with the murmur of several men outside.

You stumbled out of bed, your feet heavy as you made your way to the door, only to be met with the murmur of several men outside.

"What is the captain thinking? Bringing a woman aboard?"

"Exactly! This is bound to bring us misfortune!"

"Or maybe he plans to trade her? She's not too shabby, after all..."

"But I heard she's being sent to other towns."

"Is it really that straightforward?"

You clamped a hand over your mouth, panic rising within you, tears welling in your eyes as your heart raced. They were clearly not good men. But what could you do? Escape? That was out of the question. How could you prove to them that you wouldn't bring them bad luck? It was easy to say, but how could you actually do it? Just as your mind spiraled into chaos, loud voices broke through your thoughts.

"Why are we having abura soba again?" Hongjoong grumbled.

"Because they're delicious," Yunho replied.

"That's excessive, don't you think?" Hongjoong shot back. "I eat abura soba five days a week!"

"Is that a problem? The crew loves it," Wooyoung chimed in as he knocked on your door. When you opened it, he stood there with a steaming bowl of noodles.

"Hey there, Y/N, right? Here, if you don't mind, I made this for you," Wooyoung said, placing the bowl on your table. "I'm Wooyoung, by the way."

"Thank you," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. Though you were wary of possible poison, your hunger overpowered your caution. You took a bite, and to your surprise, it was delicious. Before long, the bowl was empty, and you watched as the others busied themselves with cleaning up.

"Hey, Y/N," Wooyoung approached you, balancing several bowls in his hands. "Are you done? You can hand the bowl back to me."

"Oh, it's fine. Let me help you. You look a bit worn out."

"Thanks, I appreciate it." You joined him in gathering bowls and chopsticks, following him to the kitchen. As you walked, you took in your surroundings, contemplating your next move... perhaps earning their trust was the best strategy for survival, at least for now.

As you stepped into the kitchen, you noticed Hongjoong frantically working on something, clearly in a rush.

"Hey, hyung. Just try not to shatter the bowl again," Wooyoung remarked, already scrubbing the dishes.

"I won't," Hongjoong replied, but his next words nearly sent the bowl tumbling.

"Um… are you going to lend him a hand?" you whispered to Wooyoung.

"Nope. I'm bust. Maybe you should go see what he's up to."  

With that, you approached Hongjoong cautiously. This could be a perfect chance to earn his trust.

"Hongjoong?"

"Yah?"

"Do you need any help?" You glanced at the mess on the table, where he was clumsily beating eggs.

"No, I'm good. Oh no!"

You quickly caught the bowls and chopsticks as they teetered, relieved they didn't break.

"Hmm… if you're okay with it, I could cook something up for you."

"Really?"

"I actually work as a cook."

"Ah, so you're just like Wooyoung."

"I guess so. What do you feel like eating?"

"Just not abura soba, please." You grinned and nodded. "And I'm not a fan of vegetables."

"Got it."

You set to work with the ingredients spread out on the table, whipping up the dishes you know best while ensuring the table remains neat. Before long, your masterpiece was complete. You entered the dining hall, cradling a bowl of fragrant soup. Hongjoong stood tall, his eyes widening at the sight of you.

"Oh wow! That smells so good!" he exclaimed, quickly blowing on the noodles before digging in. "This is absolutely delicious!" A sense of pride swelled within you as you witnessed his joy, a reminder of why you chose the culinary path.

"Perhaps you should be my personal chef," he joked, a playful smirk on his lips. You smile back, taking his words lightly, fully aware that you won't be staying long here. 

Hongjoong seemed to relax a bit, his shoulders dropping slightly as he savored each bite, his eyes closed in blissful contentment.

"I can't believe I've never had anything like this before," he said, opening his eyes to meet yours with a newfound appreciation. "You really are talented."

You blushed slightly, grateful for the compliment. "Thank you, Hongjoong. It's just something I enjoy doing."

As you sat down across from him, Wooyoung wandered in, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Hey, what's going on here? Did I miss the party?"

"Just having a nice meal," Hongjoong replied, gesturing to the now half-empty bowl in front of him.

Wooyoung's expression softened, a hint of surprise crossing his face. "Can I have a taste?"

"Nope. That's mine." 

Hongjoong immediately finished them all, not letting Wooyoung eat. 

"Yah!Hyung!" "Who told you not to help me?" 

You chuckled, watching them quarreling playfully. It appeared that this was part of their everyday life. From this viewpoint, they were completely disconnected from any notion of evil. 

In the days that followed, it felt as if you had stepped into the role of Hongjoong's personal chef. Initially, he continued to enjoy Wooyoung's meals, but he would occasionally drop hints that your cooking was just as delightful. Eventually, you took the plunge and prepared a dish just for him, hoping to win his trust. The joy on his face was infectious; he began to request your cook regularly, and soon, even some of the crew members were intrigued by your skills. 

Cooking for them brought you immense joy, as their satisfaction filled you with happiness. Over time, your initial apprehension faded, and the thought of leaving began to slip from your mind. The idea of visiting the nearby town seemed to vanish. Yet, in recent days, Hongjoong's demeanor shifted, making you reconsider your plans.

Did you do something to upset him? How could you make up for him? You worried about whether you would be killed for this? No. What you were concerned about was what if Hongjoong didn't like you?

He had grown somewhat distant, his warmth replaced by a chill that left you unsettled. This was especially evident when you were in the kitchen with Wooyoung; his coldness bordered on anger. Today was no different.

"Are you alright, Y/N? You look a bit pale," Wooyoung asked, concern etched on his face.

"Just feeling a little under the weather..." you replied with a bittersweet smile, though the cramping in your abdomen made it hard to stand. You suspected the long days at sea and the cold had taken a toll on your body. "Hiss..."

"Maybe you should take a break?" "But I want to make some food for Hongjoong…" You winced, wanting to refuse and continue helping in the kitchen, but the pain rendered your limbs weak, making cooking impossible.

"Nah. You should go back to your room." 

"But what if he didn't like me?" 

"Huh?"

"I mean…he may hate me if I don't cook for him." 

"He wouldn't think so.

"But…"

"No. Just go take a rest, okay? I can handle." Wooyoung stopped you. "Can you walk?"

"I think so?" In reality, each step felt like a monumental challenge.  

"Let me help you." Wooyoung took your hand and supported your shoulders, a moment that caught Hongjoong's eye.

"What are you doing?" he approached, anger flashing in his eyes, but as he noticed the pain etched on your face, his expression shifted. "What's wrong? Are you okay, Y/N?"

"She's sick." Wooyoung said. 

"I'm not asking you." 

Wooyoung rolled his eyes playfully, knowing Hongjoong was jealous. 

"So now I will send her to her room." 

"No." Hongjoong pulled you to his arms carefully. "I will send her and you cook." 

"Okay, okay." 

—----

"Do you need any medicine?" Hongjoong inquired as he gently laid you down on the bed. "Or should I call Yunho for assistance?"

"Actually..." you winced, the pain making your words slow. "It's just period cramps."

"Oh... umm... would something warm help? Maybe hot water?"

You nodded, and he quickly dashed out to fetch a cup of steaming water.

"Here, be careful." He supported your back as you sat up, handing you the warm cup.

"Thank you." You took a sip, feeling the soothing warmth spread through you. It wasn't just the hot water; it was Hongjoong's tender care that made your heart flutter. You couldn't deny the twinge of sadness when he seemed distant. You longed for his smile and the sweet words he used to share. Unbeknownst to you, your feelings for him were already blossoming.

"Do you need more?" As you lifted your gaze, you noticed how close he was, causing a blush to creep onto your cheeks. "No, it's okay."

Hongjoong smiled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he noticed your embarrassment. "Alright, but let me know if you need anything else. I'm here for you." 

"Thank you," you replied with a nod. "But Wooyoung really needs to step up; he's in charge of everyone's lunch."

Hongjoong feigned a cough as he plopped down beside you, irritation evident in his voice. "It's no big deal; he's used to it. You shouldn't worry about him." You stifled a laugh—wasn't he just a tad envious?

"Nope. Everyone seems to be eating a lot more these days," you teased, enjoying the playful banter as his jealousy was unmistakable.

"Why are you so concerned about him? Do you have a crush on him?" His question took you by surprise, and it seemed to catch him off guard too. "Ugh, forget it."

"Does it bother you who I like?" You asked. His cheeks flushed a deep red, and he quickly averted his gaze.

"No, it's not that," Hongjoong stammered, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape route. "It's just…I didn't expect you to be interested in him. He's always been so…carefree and unpredictable." 

I once had a crush, but it wasn't on Wooyoung. A soft chuckle escaped your lips as a warm sensation blossomed in your chest. After inhaling deeply, you were prepared to share your truth. "Hongjoong… there's something special about what I feel… when you're near, my heart starts to race. I think I might be falling for you."

"Seriously?" Your confession surprised him, and a shy yet joyful smile spread across his face. "Were you just teasing me?"

"Not at all. I would never lie about how I feel."

He leaned in closer, his eyes searching yours for any sign of jest. The sincerity in your tone echoed through the room, and the tension between you seemed to dissolve. Hongjoong's hand, which had been resting on the bedsheets, gently brushed against yours, and you didn't pull away.

"I never thought... I mean, I've always been there for you, but I never expected..." He trailed off, searching for the right words.

"Expected what?" You prompted, a hint of vulnerability creeping into your voice.

Hongjoong looked down, his fingers entwining with yours. "I never imagined that you would see me as more than just a friend. I've always admired you, from afar, but I never dared to dream that you felt the same way."

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips, and you leaned in, closing the small gap between you. 

"I think I like you, too." Hongjoong's expression softened, and he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you. It was a gentle, comforting embrace that spoke volumes of the feelings he had been holding back.

"Thank you," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. "I've been waiting for this moment for so long. I'm glad you feel the same way."

Smiling, you gave him a nod after a gazing. Without hesitation, he leaned in, pressing his lips against yours, catching you by surprise, but you quickly melted into the kiss. 

As you lay back on the bed, he hovered over you, the kiss unbroken. He was tender and cautious, as if he feared making you uneasy.

"I have a good way to reduce the period pain." He settled your hand on his cheek, giving a peck on that. "Do you wanna give it a try?"

You knew what he meant and what he wanted to do. Of course, you wanted to, too. 

"Please." 

"Wait for a while." He pecked at you after leaving for a towel and condom. Placing the towel under your thighs, he then lifted up your dress to slide down your panties. 

"I love you, y/n." He towered you, pulling out his cock from his panties. He reached out, his fingers gently tracing the contours of her cheek, as if committing her beauty to memory. You  closed your eyes, a soft sigh escaping your lips, inviting him closer.

Their lips met in a kiss that was at once tender and passionate, filled with a longing that had been building for what felt like an eternity. He guided his member to your entrance, which was already wrapped up in a condom, then slowly eased into you. 

You moaned out as you broke the kiss, the sensation of being filled up was weird you could say. Hongjoong, same as you, felt a little bit uneasy because of your sticky blood. 

"It hurts…" A deep frown creased your forehead as the familiar grip of menstrual pain returned. Watching you suffer, Hongjoong's heart ached with sorrow. He lingered, allowing your pain to fade gradually, before he began to move in and out. His rhythm matched the tenderness of his kisses, a blend of softness and intensity.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulder, allowing him to go deeper. His cock could easily reach your sensitive spot thanks to your blood. Settling your legs around his waist, he rolled his hips at a steady pace. 

"Shit, it feels good." "Hongjoong…" "It's okay, love." His head landed in your neck, dropping a broken kiss on that. It began with a gentle brush of lips against the warm, smooth skin, a tentative exploration that sent shivers down your spine. He deepened his kiss as he started to rush, his lips lingering softly on the curve of the neck as well as his thick cock─grazing your hot wall deliciously as he moved back and forth. 

"Joong…it's…fuck…"His hard tip suddenly hit your sweet spot, making you whole body squirm and let out a shy moan. "Here?" He hit it again, you couldn't help but tighten your wall. The wave of excitement rushed throughout your body each time he collided with it. You loved it. 

"Please, joong. I need more." "As you wish,  baby girl." He lifted up his hips, withdrawing his cock until only his tip inside you, then shoving back with a great force. You arched your back, opening your mouth for better breathing. The crash he made caused you to run out of oxygen. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He fucked you so fast and hit the same spot dead on. All the heat gathered in your lower core and formed a knot. Pain?It was already faded away and instead by your climax. Your wall clenched his cock, urging him to bring you to the edge. He picked up his pace, panting heavily and letting out a throaty moan. 

Your legs were placed on his shoulder, oh, he went so deep. He sat up straight, grabbing your knees and pushed into your wetness. The noise from outside faded away, leaving only the rapid thumping of your heart and the skin slapping sound, drowning out the chaos beyond. His ball hit your ass each time his tip reached the deepest, making you groan without care. 

His hand found his way to your collar, pulling it down to explode your fine chest. He pushed up your bra, squeezing your breast hard while teasing your nipple, earning a shy chuckle from your lips. "Gotta taste you." He leaned down to suck your nipple, his tongue licked everywhere he could reach. 

The double excitement made you spin. There was nothing left but only the kissing sound and the skin slapping sound bouncing off the wall. 

"I'm so close." He huffed, his thrust lost its rhythm as he found the way to peak. You, too. After a few thrust and a long throaty moan, both of you came. "Goodness." Your embrace tightened as you two didn't want to leave. Catching his breath, he pecked at your cheek before removing. 

"Am I right?Does it hurt now?" He asked, a grin played on his lips. 

"No." You shook your head. "Thank you." You gazed into each other's eyes, their faces flushed with the aftermath of their intimacy.

"Hey, I made lunch." Wooyoung suddenly knocked on your door, giving you two shocks. "But I think you two are full now?"

"No…ugh…we'll eat later." Hongjoong stammered. 

"Alright. You two will be hungry for sure especially after an intense team sport!" Wooyoung teased. 

"Shut up!Wooyoung!Leave!" 

"Okay, okay~Call me if you need more condoms." 

"I'll just kill you, you asshole!" 

Ah…it was so embarrassing.

tag list:@angelsaway, @yeosangcutie0615

[halflifebutawesome]

you used to be such a baby.

[heian-era-housewife]

Hi 👋, my first time posting a request here, hope everything is going good for you and HouseHusband. 😊

What about Sukuna/reader

Reader Wants to get a tattoo of Sukunas bite mark?

Hi! Welcome!

The Hubs and I are doing good 😁 Hope you are too!

Thanks so much for the ask. We may have put a little spin on the idea. Hope you enjoy!

🫦🫦🫦

You'd been thinking about it for a while.

"Hey, Sukuna?"

"Yeah, brat?"

Afterall, the mark was already nearly permanent considering how often you two...well...

"I need you to bite me."

Without hesitation, Sukuna grabbed your wrist pulling you roughly toward his mouth before sinking his teeth painfully into your forearm.

"OUCH! Psycho! Not like that!!"

"Be more specific with your requests next time." He huffed unapologetically.

"I need you to bite me in a specific place so I can trace the outline." You began again, carefully.

"For what purpose?"

"I want to get a tattoo." You said, brushing a hand over the area where your right shoulder met the base of your neck. "Of your mark."

Sukuna considered you. "If you wish to be branded, I could modify my fire arrow to-"

"Nonono! Not branded. Just a simple little tattoo."

"Hhmph. Nothing about my bite is little."

"Believe me, I'm aware." You sighed, rubbing your still throbbing arm.

"I am intrigued by the concept," Sukuna said, rubbing his chin. "But the execution is all wrong."

"Oh yeah?" You scrunched your brow. "How so?"

"I believe the expression is, 'Go big or go home'."

~~~

"Now the ribs are one of the most sensitive places for a big tattoo like this." The artist said during your consultation. "You sure you can stomach it?"

"Trust me." You laughed, thinking back to your curse of a partner. "I've handled far worse."

"It's going to look pretty sick when it's done, though!" They said, tracing purple lines over your stomach, ribs, and back, just above your hip. "Never had someone ask for a shark bite tattoo on their side like this. And you said your boyfriend made the design?"

"Something like that..." You laughed sheepishly, the mix of pleasure and pain still fresh in your mind where Sukuna's stomach mouth bit down on you so deliciously.

"Must be a pretty cool dude." The tattooist mused.

"Yeah..." You smiled. "Something like that."

"You know, a lot of people are getting their partner's bite marks on them these days." He continued.

"Oh?" You feigned ignorance.

"I think this is cooler though." He concluded.

"Well, you know what they say." You chuckled. "Go big or go home."

🫦🫦🫦

Shout out to @heian-era-househusband for collaborating on this one. You were a "big" help!

[dandelions-143]

Secrets (finale)

Secrets 1 - 4 found here: Hyunjins Masterlist

All other members: Masterlist

Pairing: Non-Idol Hyunjin x Plus size/Mid size fem reader

Word Count: 2,700

Warnings: MDNI, 18+ ONLY, Sexual content, Strong language, Emotional Intensity

Summary: Hyunjin reenters your life, this time on your terms. With a heart still mending, you agree to a second meeting. But the question lingers—has the man you love truly changed?

A/N: as of right now this will be the final installment of Secrets. You may possibly get to see these two in other members stories that will be posted later. I really hope you enjoyed this story. It was very fun and challenging to write! Also I will be pausing any other posts of the bad boy series until October is over, due to Kinktober coming up! Stay tuned for more!

Two weeks had elapsed since that pivotal conversation in your mother's lush garden. Hyunjin had caught only fleeting glimpses of you as he concluded his business with your father. These brief encounters—a passing glance in the hallway, a distant figure in the garden—only intensified his longing. With each passing day, the weight of your absence grew heavier, and the looming departure tomorrow evening felt like an impending doom.

Hyunjin found himself in the spare bedroom of his temporary apartment, a space he'd leased for the month but which now felt suffocating with memories and unfulfilled hopes. Before him stood an easel, supporting a canvas awash with vibrant hues. His hands, once steady and sure, now trembled slightly, leaving smears of paint across his palms and fingers. The portrait taking shape on the canvas was unmistakably you, though rendered in hazy, dreamlike strokes—a reflection of his current state of mind.

As he gazed at the painting, a heavy sigh escaped his lips. The sound seemed to echo in the quiet room, emphasizing his solitude. You had always been a constant presence in his thoughts, a guiding star in his universe. But now, faced with the very real possibility of losing you forever, those thoughts had transformed into an all-consuming tempest. Every waking moment was filled with your image, your voice, your touch—memories that both comforted and tormented him. Even in sleep, he found no respite, his dreams a kaleidoscope of shared moments and imagined futures.

"Fuck," he groaned, his voice echoing in the empty apartment. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the room, highlighting the scattered art supplies and half-finished canvases. Hyunjin's eyes darted to his phone for the hundredth time that day, willing it to light up with your name. The sinking feeling in his gut grew heavier with each passing minute, whispering that he had lost you forever.

He stood up abruptly, unable to sit still any longer. His fingers ran through his hair, leaving it disheveled as he paced the room. The wooden floorboards creaked under his restless steps, a rhythmic accompaniment to his racing thoughts. The painting of you on the easel seemed to mock him, your eyes following his movements, a constant reminder of what he might have lost. Hyunjin's gaze kept returning to his phone, silently pleading for it to ring, to show any sign of your name on the screen.

Suddenly, the silence shattered like glass. The shrill ring of his phone cut through the air, sending Hyunjin's heart leaping into his throat. He lunged for the device, nearly knocking over a cup of paint-stained water in his haste. His hands trembled as he picked up the phone, fingers slipping on the smooth surface. Not bothering to check the caller ID, he answered without hesitation, his voice breathless. "Hello."

He tried to calm his racing heart, acutely aware of how loud his breathing sounded in the quiet room. There was a brief pause, the silence on the other end stretching for what felt like an eternity. Then, your voice came through the speaker, soft and hesitant, sending a shiver down his spine. "Hyunjin... I've been thinking about everything." His breath caught in his throat, his grip tightening on the phone until his knuckles turned white. He waited for you to continue, hardly daring to breathe. "Can we meet? I think we need to talk face to face."

Hyunjin's heart raced, pounding so hard he was sure you could hear it through the phone. He replied, his voice barely above a whisper, "Yes, of course. Where do you want to meet?" He held his breath, the anticipation of seeing you face to face, of finally having the chance to talk things through, was almost unbearable. He could hear the nervousness in your voice as you replied, the slight tremor matching his own internal turmoil. "I'm actually on my way to the address you gave me right now. I should be there in ten."

His eyes widened in shock, darting around the cluttered space of his apartment. Paint supplies were strewn about haphazardly, evidence of his restless attempts to capture his emotions on canvas. Half-finished paintings leaned against walls, their subjects a blur of colors and shapes. The air was thick with the acrid scent of turpentine, mingling with the earthy smell of oil paints. He quickly surveyed the chaos, his heart racing at the thought of you seeing his living space in such disarray. With only minutes to spare, Hyunjin began a frantic attempt to tidy up, his mind torn between the urgency of cleaning and the anticipation of your arrival. He moved in a whirlwind, shoving supplies into drawers and closets, his hands leaving smears of paint on every surface he touched.

"Uh, yeah! Yeah... I'll be here. My apartment is 224B," he said, biting his bottom lip as he rushed around to clean up as much as he could. His heart pounded in his chest, the anticipation of your arrival making his hands tremble slightly. "See you soon," you said before hanging up. Hyunjin's heart raced as he ended the call, his eyes darting around the cluttered room. He had mere minutes to make the space presentable before you arrived.

With frantic energy, he began shoving art supplies into drawers and closets, his mind a whirlwind of anticipation and nervousness. Paint-stained rags disappeared into a nearby hamper, and half-finished canvases were hastily propped against the wall, their still-wet surfaces gleaming in the afternoon light. The scent of turpentine hung heavy in the air, a testament to his recent artistic frenzy.

As he heard a soft knock at the door, he took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation that could change everything. The sound seemed to echo through the apartment, making his pulse quicken even more.

That's when he remembered the paint on his hands. "Shit," he mumbled, his eyes widening in panic. He dashed to the kitchen sink, nearly tripping over a stray easel in his haste. "Coming!" he yelled, his voice slightly strained as he scrubbed his large hands vigorously under the running water. The cool liquid mixed with the vibrant colors, creating a swirling rainbow in the sink. He managed to get most—but not all—of the paint off, leaving faint traces of blue and green under his nails.

Hyunjin ran his wet hands through his black messy hair, hoping to tame it a bit. Droplets of water clung to the strands, giving him a slightly disheveled but endearing look. He quickly dried his hands on a nearby towel, leaving colorful smudges on the fabric. Then he stepped to the door, taking one last deep breath to compose himself before opening it smoothly.

As the door swung open, Hyunjin's breath caught in his throat. There you stood, your eyes meeting his with a mix of uncertainty and determination. The air between you crackled with tension, unspoken words hanging heavy in the silence. Your familiar scent wafted towards him, stirring memories of shared moments and whispered promises. Hyunjin stepped back, gesturing for you to enter, his chest tightening at the sight of you. "Come in," he said, his voice softer than he intended, betraying the emotions swirling within him.

You stepped inside onto the rug and took off your shoes, leaving them right next to Hyunjin's. The simple sight of your shoes beside his made your heart squeeze a bit, a physical representation of the closeness you once shared. The apartment was homey, a bit messy but you liked it. The warmth of the space enveloped you, a stark contrast to the cool autumn air outside.

Then you began to notice things... mainly how the apartment was decorated. Your eyes scanned the small yet modern kitchen, taking in the sleek appliances and the soft, warm lighting. The countertops were cluttered with various art supplies, evidence of Hyunjin's recent creative burst. A half-empty mug of coffee sat on the island. The whole scene felt intimately familiar, as if you were stepping into a dream you'd had countless times before.

Your gaze swept across the open living room, taking in the modern furniture adorned in comforting beiges and deep browns. "Hyunjin..." you began, words momentarily failing you. The apartment's decor mirrored exactly what you'd once described as your vision for a shared living space—a conversation you'd had when discussing plans to move in together.

You turned to him, your eyes brimming with a complex mix of emotions—surprise, confusion, and a glimmer of hope that you couldn't quite suppress. The familiar layout and color scheme stirred vivid memories of shared dreams and plans, making your heart flutter erratically in your chest. Every detail, from the soft beige walls to the strategically placed artwork, echoed conversations you'd had about your ideal living space. You wondered, with a mixture of awe and trepidation, if this was mere coincidence or a deliberate, painstaking choice on Hyunjin's part. As your gaze met his, words failed you, the weight of unspoken questions hanging heavily between you, almost tangible in the charged air.

Hyunjin shrugged slightly, a knowing smile playing on his plump lips, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of nervousness and anticipation. "I couldn't help myself," he admitted softly, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability. "I wanted to be surrounded by you, by our dreams... I guess it was my way of holding onto hope." Your eyes widened, a kaleidoscope of emotions flickering across your face—surprise, tenderness, and a surge of affection you couldn't quite contain. The realization that Hyunjin had gone to such lengths to recreate your shared vision touched something deep within you, melting away some of the ice that had formed around your heart. Taking a hesitant step closer, you spoke softly, your voice barely above a whisper, "Hyunjin, I've been thinking a lot about you... about us..." You shook your head, struggling to find the right words to express the tumult of emotions swirling within you.

Hyunjin's eyes softened as he watched you struggle for words, his gaze filled with patience and understanding. He moved closer, closing the distance between you until you could feel the warmth radiating from his body. "I understand," he said gently, his voice barely above a whisper, the softness of his tone wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. "Take your time. I'm here to listen, for as long as you need." His familiar scent enveloped you unleashing a flood of memories that threatened to overwhelm you. Stolen kisses in hidden corners, lazy Sunday mornings tangled in sheets, shared laughter over inside jokes—each memory washed over you, reminding you of the depth of your connection. You took a deep, shaky breath, gathering your thoughts before continuing, your voice trembling slightly with the weight of your words. "I've realized something important during our time apart, Hyunjin. Despite everything that's happened, despite all the pain and confusion, my feelings for you haven't changed. They've only grown stronger, more certain. I miss you, Hyunjin. I miss us—the way we were, the way we could be."

You watched as Hyunjin's handsome face transformed, lighting up with a potent mix of relief, hope, and unbridled joy. His eyes, usually so guarded, softened visibly, brimming with unshed tears that made them glisten in the soft light of the apartment. A small, tender smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, slowly spreading until it illuminated his entire face. He reached out, his movements slow and deliberate, as if afraid you might disappear if he moved too quickly. His hands enveloped yours, his touch sending a familiar warmth coursing through your body, igniting every nerve ending. His fingers, slightly calloused from his art, intertwined with yours, fitting perfectly as they always had. "I've missed you too," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, cracking slightly on the last word. "More than you could ever know. Every day without you has been... incomplete. You're the missing piece, Y/N. You always have been." The raw honesty in his voice, the vulnerability in his eyes, made your heart swell with a renewed sense of hope and possibility.

You gazed up at Hyunjin, your eyes meticulously tracing his features as if rediscovering them for the first time. The warmth of his hands, still bearing faint traces of vibrant paint, served as a tangible reminder of the passion he poured into his art. An invisible, magnetic force seemed to draw you closer, the familiar connection between you intensifying with each passing second. The air around you felt charged, crackling with unspoken emotions and shared memories. "Hyunjin," you whispered, your voice barely audible, trembling slightly with the weight of your words, "I've lost a lot of trust, but... it can be rebuilt. I want to try."

Hyunjin's eyes widened, so many emotions flickering in their depths - hope, determination, and a hint of vulnerability. He gently squeezed your hands, his long fingers intertwining with yours, creating a perfect fit. His voice was soft yet resolute, carrying the weight of his sincerity. "I understand completely, and I swear I'll do whatever it takes to rebuild that trust. We can take it slow, day by day, moment by moment if that's what you need." His gaze held yours, unwavering and intense, as he continued, "I want to prove to you that you can trust me again, that we can make this work. I'm committed to us, to you, with every fiber of my being."

His words rang with undeniable sincerity, each syllable resonating with the depth of his feelings. You found yourself believing everything he was saying, your heart softening despite your best efforts to remain guarded. Yet, the way he looked at you made your pulse quicken, sending a rush of warmth through your body. Hyunjin's deep brown eyes, flecked with gold in the soft light, kept darting to your lips, lingering there before meeting your gaze again. His tongue would occasionally sweep across his own plump lips, moistening them and making them appear irresistibly enticing. The gesture, probably unconscious on his part, sent a shiver down your spine. You stepped away from him, trying desperately to keep your composure. You'd just agreed to take things slow, to rebuild trust gradually, but your body clearly had other ideas, yearning for his touch.

Hyunjin noticed your hesitation immediately, his artist's eye attuned to even the slightest change in your demeanor. He mirrored your action, taking a step back to respect your need for space. His hand ran through his hair, tousling the dark strands - a gesture you recognized as a sign of his own nervousness. It was oddly comforting to see that he was just as affected by your proximity as you were by his. "I'm sorry," he said softly, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. We can take this as slow as you need. Your comfort, your trust - they're the most important things to me right now." His words were genuine, laced with care and understanding. But despite the physical distance between you, the tension remained palpable - electric and alive. It was a testament to the deep, unbreakable connection you shared, a bond that had weathered storms and now stood on the precipice of renewal.

He ran his long fingers through his messy hair, not doing much to keep it out of his eyes. He looked tense but so were you. “You don’t make me uncomfortable.. I’m just trying to..” you didn’t continue your sentence because Hyunjin was suddenly in front of you his lean body pressed to yours. His warm breath fanned across your face, sending a shiver down your spine. Your eyes locked with his, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. The air between you crackled with electric tension, your bodies drawn together like magnets. Despite your resolve to take things slow, you found yourself leaning in, your lips mere inches from his.

"I'm sorry, I just need—" Hyunjin began, his voice husky with desire, but you silenced him with a searing kiss. Your lips crashed against his, igniting a fire that had been smoldering beneath the surface for far too long. The kiss was electric, sending jolts of pleasure through your body as Hyunjin's arms instinctively encircled your waist, pulling you flush against him.

His lips were soft yet demanding, moving against yours with a passion that left you breathless. You could taste the faint hint of coffee on his tongue as it tangled with yours, exploring and rediscovering. The familiar scent of his cologne—a heady mix of sandalwood and citrus—enveloped you, evoking memories of passionate nights spent tangled in bed.

As the kiss deepened, Hyunjin's hands began to roam, his fingers leaving trails of fire in their wake. They traced the curve of your spine, sending shivers coursing through you, before settling on your hips, gripping them firmly. You melted into his embrace, your body responding to his touch as if no time had passed, as if you were made for each other.

A soft moan escaped your lips as Hyunjin's mouth left yours, blazing a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jawline. His lips found that sensitive spot just below your ear, and you gasped, your fingers threading through his silky hair, holding him close. "God, Y/N," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and heavy, "you feel so incredible... I've missed your taste, your scent, everything about you."

With gentle yet insistent pressure, Hyunjin guided you backward until your lower back met the cool edge of the counter. In one fluid motion, he lifted you, his strong hands gripping your thighs as he settled you on the countertop. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, drawing him closer, needing to feel every inch of him pressed against you.

The familiar spark between you erupted into a roaring inferno, consuming all thoughts of taking things slow. Hyunjin's hands roamed your body with reverence, reacquainting themselves with every curve and contour. His touch was both familiar and exhilarating, as if he was rediscovering a favorite piece of art, committing every detail to memory.

You arched into him as his lips found your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin. Each touch of his lips sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, and you could feel the wetness building between your thighs. The need to have him closer, to feel his skin against yours, became overwhelming. "Hyunjin..." you whimpered, his name falling from your lips like a prayer as he lavished attention on your collarbone.

Hyunjin slowly straightened, his dark eyes meeting yours. They were filled with a mixture of desire, adoration, and a silent question. His fingers curled around the hem of your shirt, seeking permission. In that moment, time seemed to stand still. You knew that if you nodded, there would be no turning back. The air crackled with tension as you made your decision, your heart racing with anticipation.

With a small nod, you granted him permission. Hyunjin's movements were gentle yet purposeful as he slowly lifted your shirt, his knuckles grazing your skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake. As the fabric cleared your head, your hair fell into your eyes. Hyunjin paused, a tender smile playing on his lips as he reached up to brush the strands aside, tucking them gently behind your ears. The simple gesture, so full of care and intimacy, made your heart swell.

Then, as if drawn by an invisible force, his lips were on yours again. This kiss was different—deeper, more passionate, filled with unspoken promises and barely restrained desire. You lost yourself in the sensation, in the taste of him, in the feel of his body pressed against yours. As Hyunjin's hands resumed their exploration of your newly exposed skin, you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, your connection—this undeniable, all-consuming love—was worth fighting for.

His hands roamed your body with reverent intensity, expertly unclasping your bra and tossing it aside. As his lips trailed down to your newly exposed skin, you arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips. The warmth of his breath against your sensitive flesh sent shivers down your spine. Hyunjin's eyes, dark pools of desire, met yours as he whispered against your heated skin, his voice husky and filled with adoration, "You're so fucking beautiful. Every inch of you is perfection."

Hyunjin's hands slid up your long skirt, the fabric rustling softly as he hiked it up to your thighs. His fingers caressed every inch of you. The contrast between his warm hands and the cool air made you shiver with anticipation. "So soft... and all mine," he murmured, his voice deeper than before, dripping with sexual tension. His effortless sexiness, the way his muscles rippled under his skin with each movement, made you ache to remove his clothes, to feel his bare skin against yours.

Your hands moved to the hem of his shirt, tugging it upwards with urgent desire. Hyunjin obliged, breaking contact for just a moment to pull his shirt over his head. The sight of his toned chest and abs, now fully revealed, made your breath catch in your throat. Your fingers traced the contours of his muscles, feeling them flex and tense under your touch. The warmth of his skin and the slight sheen of sweat made him glisten in the dim light. A low groan escaped his lips at your touch, the sound sending a jolt of arousal straight to your core. "Your turn," you whispered, your eyes locked on his, dark with desire, as your hands moved to undo his belt.

With deft fingers, you unbuckled his belt, the metallic clink echoing in the charged silence between you. You popped open the button of his jeans, the anticipation building with each small action. Hyunjin's breath hitched audibly as you slowly lowered the zipper, the sound seeming impossibly loud in the quiet room. Your eyes never left his, watching as his pupils dilated further with each passing second. The tension between you was electric, palpable, as you pushed his jeans down his hips, revealing more of his toned body.

As his jeans pooled around his ankles, you couldn't help but admire the sight before you. Hyunjin stood there, his sculpted body on full display, every muscle defined and begging to be touched. His chest rose and fell with quickened breaths, his excitement evident in every aspect of his being. Your hands trailed up his thighs, feeling the muscles tense and quiver under your touch. The warmth of his skin seeped into your palms, igniting a fire within you. Your fingers hooked into the waistband of his boxers, teasing the sensitive skin there. You could feel his arousal growing harder beneath the thin fabric as your fingertips trailed over his skin, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from him.

You could visibly see his pale skin pebble with goosebumps just before you pulled his boxers down, the anticipation making your movements both eager and torturously slow. As the fabric fell away, joining his jeans around his ankles, Hyunjin's impressive length sprang free. The sight made you unconsciously lick your lips, your mouth suddenly dry with want. Your hand wrapped around his shaft, feeling it pulse beneath your touch, hot and hard and impossibly smooth. Hyunjin let out a low, guttural groan, his head falling back, exposing the long column of his throat. You began to stroke him slowly, teasingly, watching in fascination as his abs clenched with each movement of your hand.

Your thumb circled the sensitive head, spreading the precum that had gathered there. The slick warmth made your movements smoother, more sensual. Hyunjin's hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more of your touch, more friction, more of everything you had to offer. "Y/N," he breathed, your name like a sin on his lips. His voice was husky with need, rough with desire. "I need you. Now." The raw want in his tone sent a shiver of anticipation down your spine. With those words, Hyunjin lifted you off the counter in one fluid motion, his strength evident in the ease with which he moved you. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your bodies pressed flush against each other. You could feel the heat of his arousal against your core, separated only by the thin fabric of your skirt.

He carried you to the bedroom, his lips never leaving yours. The kiss was deep, passionate, filled with promises of pleasure to come. As he gently laid you on the bed, his eyes roamed your body hungrily, taking in every curve, every inch of exposed skin. The intensity of his gaze made you feel both vulnerable and incredibly desired. But then he stilled for a moment, his brows furrowing in confusion. You felt his finger trace over your ribcage, his touch gentle yet questioning. The sudden change in his demeanor was palpable, concern replacing the burning desire in his eyes.

"Y/N, where did you get these?" Hyunjin asked, his voice laced with a hint of anger. His fingers traced the fading yellow-green bruises along your ribcage, his touch feather-light yet sending shivers through your body. The marks, a week old, were a stark reminder of your confrontation with Joo Won.

You hesitated, memories of that night flooding back. Joo Won's face contorted with rage as you told him your heart belonged to Hyunjin. His fingers digging into your skin as he roughly grabbed you, shouting accusations and threats. The fear, the pain, the relief when you finally broke free and ran.

"It's... it's nothing," you whispered, your voice barely audible. But Hyunjin's eyes, usually warm and loving, now blazed with a protective fury. You could see the muscles in his jaw clenching, his body tensing above you.

Desperate to salvage the moment, to feel his love rather than relive your pain, you pulled him closer. Your lips found his, urgent and needy. "Please, Hyunjin," you breathed against his mouth, your hips pressing insistently against his. "I need you. I need to feel you, to forget everything else."

For a moment, Hyunjin remained rigid, torn between his desire to protect you and his need to love you. Then, with a soft sigh, he melted into your embrace. His kiss deepened, becoming a promise, an assurance. "I'm here now," he murmured, his lips trailing fire down your neck. "Let me take care of you, let me make you feel good."

His hands, so gentle yet possessive, roamed your body. Each touch seemed to erase the memory of Joo Won's anger, replacing it with warmth and desire. Hyunjin's fingers skimmed over your curves, his palms cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing over sensitive nipples. You arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips.

Hyunjin's mouth followed the path of his hands, leaving a trail of heated kisses down your body. He lavished attention on your breasts, his tongue swirling around each nipple before continuing his descent. When he reached the junction of your thighs, he looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire but still tinged with concern.

"Let me make you feel good," he repeated, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. Without waiting for a response, he dipped his head, his tongue finding your most intimate areas. The first swipe of his tongue made you gasp, your back arching off the bed.

Hyunjin's skilled mouth worked magic on your flesh, alternating between long, languid strokes and quick, teasing flicks. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he devoured you with fervor. The pleasure built rapidly, your fingers tangling in his thick hair as you felt yourself approaching the edge of ecstasy.

The room filled with the sounds of your pleasure – the wet noises of Hyunjin's mouth, your breathless moans, the rustle of sheets as you writhed beneath him. Your thighs began to tremble, your grip on his hair tightening. "Oh god, Hyunjin... I'm so close," you gasped, your voice high and breathy.

In response, Hyunjin redoubled his efforts. His tongue circled your clit with increased pressure and speed, while one of his hands left your thigh to slide two fingers inside you. The dual stimulation was overwhelming, the coil of pleasure in your core winding tighter and tighter.

With a particularly clever swirl of his tongue combined with a curl of his fingers, Hyunjin pushed you over the edge. Your body tensed, waves of pleasure crashing over you as you cried out his name. Your back arched off the bed, your thighs clamping around his head as you rode out your orgasm.

Hyunjin didn't let up, his tongue and fingers working in tandem to draw out your pleasure until you were trembling and oversensitive. Only then did he slowly kiss his way back up your body, his lips finally meeting yours in a passionate kiss that tasted of you.

As you came down from your high, you felt Hyunjin's hardness pressing against your thigh. His eyes, dark with desire, locked onto yours as he positioned himself at your entrance. With a slow, deliberate thrust, he entered you, both of you gasping at the sensation of being joined once again. The feeling of fullness, of completeness, overwhelmed you as Hyunjin began to move. His hips rolled against yours in a familiar yet exhilarating rhythm, each thrust sending sparks of pleasure through your still-sensitive body. Your hands roamed his back, feeling the muscles flex and ripple beneath your fingertips.

Hyunjin's breath was hot against your neck as he whispered words of adoration. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, punctuating each word with a thrust. "So perfect. I love you so much." His words, combined with the sensations he was creating in your body, brought tears to your eyes.

As the pleasure intensified, your nails dug into Hyunjin's skin, leaving crescent-shaped marks on his shoulders. Your bodies moved in perfect synchronization, the world around you fading away until there was nothing but the two of you, lost in a moment of pure, unrestrained passion.

Hyunjin's movements became more intense, his thrusts deeper and more purposeful. A light sheen of sweat coated both your bodies, the feeling of skin sliding against skin sending shivers down your spine. Your legs wrapped tighter around his waist, urging him on as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable crescendo.

With a final, powerful thrust, Hyunjin pushed you both over the edge. Your body tensed, a second wave of pleasure washing over you as you cried out his name. Hyunjin followed moments later, his release mixing with yours as he buried his face in your neck, breathing heavily.

As you both lay there, basking in the afterglow, Hyunjin's arms wrapped around you protectively. The warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest filled you with a sense of peace and belonging. You tilted your head to meet his gaze, finding his eyes filled with love and adoration.

In that moment, as Hyunjin's eyes bore into yours, you both knew. This was more than just passion or desire. This was a connection that ran soul-deep, a love that could weather any storm. Hyunjin was your person, just as you were his. You owned each other, mind, body, and soul. And in that perfect, quiet moment, you both silently vowed to never let go, to face whatever challenges lay ahead together.

It didn't take long for you to drift off to sleep, held tight in Hyunjin's strong arms. He lay there watching you, mesmerized by the gentle flutter of your eyelashes and the soft rhythm of your breathing. Your skin glowed in the dim light, and he couldn't help but trace the curve of your cheek with his fingertips. You were the most precious thing to him in the entire world, a realization that both thrilled and terrified him.

Though he may not have shown it before, Hyunjin was now determined to make up for all the wasted time and mend your broken heart. He thought about all the moments he'd missed, all the times he could have loved you the right way but didn’t. The weight of his regret was heavy, but it fueled his resolve to do better, to be better for you.

You were his to protect, and as Hyunjin lay there in the dark bedroom, his mind began to race. The memory of those bruises on your skin made his blood boil. He didn't need you to tell him who gave you those marks; he knew. His jaw clenched as he imagined Joo Won's hands on you, hurting you. The protective instinct that surged through him was almost overwhelming.

Slowly, careful not to disturb your peaceful slumber, Hyunjin reached for his phone. The blue light illuminated his face as he typed out a short, cryptic message to Minho. "Need a favor before I leave.” He hesitated for a moment before hitting send, knowing that once he did, there would be no going back. But as he looked down at your sleeping form, so vulnerable and trusting in his arms, he knew he had to do whatever it took to keep you safe.

As he set his phone aside, Hyunjin's mind was already formulating a plan. He would make sure Joo Won never laid a hand on you again, no matter what it took. With a soft sigh, he pulled you closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I love you," he whispered into the darkness, a promise and a vow wrapped into three simple words. "And I'll always protect you."

Taglist💕

@cashtonsbetch @katsukis1wife @hyunjinhoexxx @ihrtlino @breezy-simp @vixensss @yaorzu-blog @tirena1 @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @chuuyaobsessed @doohnut @babigriin @iovecb97 @kpflyn @rylea08 @sheerfreesia007 @tsunderelino @cookiesandcreammy @rockstarkkami @moonchild9350 @syedazarintasnim @myflowercloud @143hyunes @luvyblossom @shecheatedwithme @antisocialties @akaligogrrr @thisaintredwine @rose-w-00-d @jisuperboard @velvetmoonlight @kayleefriedchicken @skzfelixlove @athforskz

[atzaurora]

[˗ˏˋ ´ˎ˗] 𝒢𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒞𝒐𝒎𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒔.﹙엔하이픈﹚(0.7k)

𖥔 fem!reader x enhypen ; good friends, crushing? ⸼જ Their reaction to walking in on you crying... ➤ reaction (angst, fluff) .ᐟ.ᐟ >none< .ᐟ.ᐟ

꒰🖇꒱ working on requests rn, but wanted to post something else first :3 enjoyyy

if you have any ideas or wishes let me know, requests are open

here's my [𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕]! ; [𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕] here! ; [about me] + [guidelines]!

reblogs appreciated

HEESEUNG

• hesitates at first, but then walks over quietly.

• softly calls out your name, making sure not to startle you.

• wrapping you in his arms before talking to you in a soft tone.

• tries to comfort you without asking too many questions, offering his presence more than words.

• will lightly touch your hand or shoulder, his way of showing support without overwhelming you.

• offers to stay with you until you’re ready to talk or calm down, never rushing you. ── ࣪˖ OTHER MEMBERS BELOW

JAY

• immediately notices something’s wrong but doesn’t react dramatically.

• takes a moment to assess the situation before speaking, using a calm and steady voice.

• stands nearby, giving you space but staying close enough to show he’s there if you need him.

“You don’t have to say anything if you’re not ready, but I’m here.”

• gently rubbs your back while looking at you with a reassuring expression.

• might cross his arms or lean against something, a practical gesture showing he’s here for the long haul.

• will check in later, making sure you’re really okay after some time has passed.

JAKE

• his expression immediately softens when he sees you upset.

• says something light-hearted or casual at first, trying to brighten the mood but not too pushy.

• quickly finds a way to sit next to you, offering physical comfort, like a light pat on the back or shoulder.

“Want to go for a walk? Fresh air might help.”

• offers distractions like talking about his dogs or other things you both like.

• encourages you to open up in your own time but doesn’t press if you stay quiet.

SUNGHOON

• pauses when he sees you crying, unsure of what to do at first.

• approaches quietly, not saying much at the beginning, just sitting nearby.

“I don’t really know what to say, but...I’m here.”

• tries to make you feel less pressured, letting you have space to process your feelings without interference.

• will stay with you, even if it’s just sitting in silence for a while.

• when you’re ready to talk, he’ll listen carefully, but won’t push you to share more than you want.

SUNOO

• notices immediately and says something like, “Hey, what’s going on?” in a soft, concerned tone.

• takes a proactive approach, grabbing something comforting (like hot chocolate or tissues) without asking.

“You don’t have to hide it, you know. I’m here for you.”

• tries to bring light to the situation, but knows when to back off if you’re not in the mood for humor.

• gently reassures you that it’s okay to feel this way, offering words of comfort and a hug if you’re okay with it.

• will stay close by until you’re ready to feel better, offering warm, nurturing energy.

JUNGWON

• notices you’re upset and quietly approaches, sitting next to you without making a big scene.

• stays silent at first, giving you time to compose yourself before speaking, but already offering physical comfort (like gentle pats on your head or back)

“You don’t have to explain, but if you want to, I can listen.”

• his calm presence helps you feel grounded, and he’ll wait until you’re ready to talk.

• offers practical comfort, like breathing exercises or suggesting a short walk to clear your head.

• always patient, waiting for you to lead the conversation and assuring you that everything will be okay, step by step.

NI-KI

• freezes when he sees you crying, unsure of how to approach at first.

• might awkwardly clear his throat before quietly asking, “Uh...are you okay?”

• keeps a bit of distance at first, not wanting to make you uncomfortable, but watches you closely.

• tries to figure out if you need space or comfort, staying silent until you give him a cue.

“I’m not really sure what to do, but I want to help.”

• might suggest doing something fun together to lift your spirits, like playing a game or watching a funny video.

• offers his company in a subtle way, staying with you even if he’s not sure what to say, just so you don’t feel alone.

[ozziethegreat]

hue makes an appearance again.. if any of yall know me from tiktok and saw my first post about him ily

don’t mind me @toffeebrew @howlsofbloodhounds

Yapping below \/

So initially he didn’t have much of a story because I’m not very creative and I blank out whenever I try to make something original so yeah.

basically, if Color were ever to get error-d, I think he would be on a hike, probably in some random AU that had nice scenery or something. He’s wearing a rain jacket because it was raining at the place he was, and he he just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, and Error or some other entity was destroying it or something. As for how he got into the anti void,,, yall can use ur imagination 😭

(That’s the best explanation I can give, kill me)

I was more focused on the actual character than his backstory, so I’ll just explain my ideas of how he would act and such..

I called him Static Hue, or just Hue for short. (It’s a synonym of color I’m very creative guys)

I think whatever caused the error in his code amalgamated the human souls, and kind of made them fuse together, so Hue can never understand what they are saying because they speak over each other all the time. The different traits overlap and he feels mixed emotions all the time, along with intense mood swings and anxiety attacks. His flames also change color at a much faster rate, so people with epilepsy will stay FAR away from him 😭😭😭😭

Fun fact: he’s also blind. The only thing he can actually see is the color of his flames (which change all the time), and it tends to give him headaches and nausea. His grabblings are always out and just attached to his back so he can use them to move around.

As for the strings, they are very hot to the touch and leave burn marks on however he uses them on. They burn himself as well but he doesn’t pay any attention to it.

Hue’s memory is very jumbled, he didn’t necessarily forget about everything, but he doesn’t remember why exactly he does things. He knows he needs to help killer and protect him at all costs, but he isn’t sure why. He knows he hates Nightmare and REALLY wants that guy dead, but he doesn’t know where that hatred came from. And of course he naturally feels safer near the epic trio, and nervous staying in the same places for too long.

hue’s pretty obsessive over Killer for this reason. His need to help killer was multiplied by a gazillion, and he tends to just.. kidnap Killer and take him random places to keep him close. Sometimes he accidentally hurts him, but he doesn’t realize it, the only thing he can think about is keeping him safe and close to himself. On the contrary, he gets super aggressive and defensive at the mention of Nightmare, and if he were to see him face to face he would attack without hesitation. He knows his job is to keep Killer safe and away from Nightmare, and that’s really his only motive. He just doesn’t know where it came from.

Similarly to most errors, he has trouble speaking because of stuttering and glitches. He also can’t form very clear thoughts because the souls are constantly influencing his behavior. He has trouble explaining his thoughts and feelings, he tends to speak more in actions (as in he would crush you to death in a hug to show affection.)

anyway. If anyone wants to add onto this or share thoughts I’d appreciate it..

Here’s some older drawings of him LMAO

[lvnleah]

Hi!! I said about lotte earlier, I’d love some kind of lotte x reader maybe early in relationship and reader has a fight with her family which she ends up spilling to the team in changing room/ team night. lotte instinctively gets really protective/ angry which puts their relationship to the group? or maybe something to do with a creepy fan at a match, lotte gets protective and their relationship is shared online? feel free to make any changes ❤️❤️

Under Pressure | Lotte Wubben-Moy

thank you so much for this request <33

word count: 900 a little short one!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The hum of the changing room settled as you took a deep breath, peeling your training top off. The atmosphere was filled with the usual banter, chatter about the training session, weekend plans, and who got the most nutmegs that day. You had kept quiet for most of the day, a smile here and there, nodding along to your teammates’ chatter. But your mind was still spinning, replaying the argument with your family earlier that day.

You had walked out of that conversation, your head pounding, feeling like you had been run over by a truck. You couldn’t shake the hurtful words, the way their disbelief in your relationship with Lotte had made you feel so small. It was one thing for them to disapprove of your career in football, but to disapprove of her, of something that made you so happy, was a punch to the gut.

You and Lotte had been together for three months now, after being friends for so long you both decided it was time to try something new. Your family had never approved of you being a footballer let alone you being in a relationship with a woman.

“You okay?” Leah nudged you, bringing you back to reality instead of being inside of your head.

You forced a smile. “Yeah, just a bit tired. Didn’t get a lot of sleep.”

She didn’t seem convinced but thankfully didn’t push further. You were grateful for that, not sure if you’d be able to keep up the fake smile much longer. You wanted to scream, to vent, to let it all out, but you were also terrified of breaking down in front of everyone.

Later that night, the team decided to head to a local pub. A night out with the team was meant to be a distraction. The usual post-training hangout was filled with laughter, clinking glasses, and friendly teasing. But the mask you wore all day was starting to crack. Lotte, sitting across from you, noticed too. Her eyes flickered with concern, and she reached out under the table, her hand squeezing yours. It was a simple gesture, but it almost made you crumble.

“Babe, are you sure you’re okay?” she whispered, leaning in close so only you could hear. Her voice was gentle, her thumb brushing against your knuckles.

You nodded, but the lump in your throat only grew. “Yeah, just family stuff.”

You could see the flicker of anger in her eyes, her jaw tightening slightly. She hated that you were hurting and hated even more that it was because of them. You loved her protective side, but right now, you needed her to stay calm. The last thing you wanted was to drag the team into this.

But the dam broke when someone asked innocently about your family. “They still giving you grief about football?” Viv asked, her tone light but laced with genuine concern.

You hesitated, the weight of the day pressing down on you. “Not just about football,” you muttered, and the words spilled out before you could stop them. “They… they don’t understand why I’m with Lotte. They don’t think it’s serious, and they don’t think she’s… right for me.”

Silence settled over the group. You looked up to find everyone staring at you, the concern and sympathy evident in their faces. You felt exposed, vulnerable, and you wished you could take the words back, shove them down where they wouldn’t see the light of day.

Lotte’s hand tightened around yours, “That’s bullshit,” she said, “You deserve better than that.”

Your eyes widened, and you tried to give her a look, something to tell her to calm down, but she was on a roll now, her anger radiating off her in waves. “They don’t know what they’re talking about. You’re amazing, and if they can’t see that, then screw them. You don’t need their approval.”

The room was silent, everyone watching the two of you with wide eyes. It dawned on you then that she had said all this in front of the entire team. It wasn’t like you were hiding your relationship, but you hadn’t exactly put it out there either. You had wanted to keep it private, to let it grow naturally, without the pressure of everyone knowing. But now, there it was, out in the open.

You swallowed hard, glancing around the table. Leah was looking at you with a small, knowing smile, Viv and Beth exchanged a look, and the rest of the team seemed to be processing this new information.

“Uh, well, I guess that’s out now,” you said with an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of your neck.

Lotte turned to you, her anger melting away, replaced by a soft, almost apologetic expression. “Sorry, I just… I hate seeing you like this. I didn’t mean to…”

You shook your head, squeezing her hand. “It’s okay. I just hate that they get to me so much.”

She smiled softly. “I’m sorry.”

You leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”

A collective “awww” went around the table, and you could feel your cheeks burning as you pulled away, but you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. Maybe it wasn’t how you planned to reveal your relationship, but looking around at the team’s warm, accepting smiles, you realised it didn’t matter.

[basu-shokikita]

Skwisblocked, a Klokllege fic

I really like @kaanagen's Klokllege AU about the boys going to college, so I decided to write a little one-shot based on Skwisgaar and Toki's dynamic in it. You can read the full post of her AU here!

Plot: Toki comes up with a bit of an unusual method to deal with his (seemingly) unrequited feelings for Skwisgaar.

As usual, full fic under the read more but you can also read it on ao3. Amazing art by Kaana also 🫶💖

As usual, they had the last shift at the antique shop, which means it was their job to close the thing down, leave the place tidy and make sure the door was locked so no accidental shoplifting happened. Again. Toki wasn’t looking to get fired, so he was extra cautious with the keys now.

By the corner of his eye, however, he noticed a girl standing outside. She had long brown hair, silver hoops and a denim jacket over her loose, airy dress. A customer that came too late?

“Um, sorries, we ams closed.” He told her.

“Oh, no, it’s okay.” She smiled. “I’m just waiting for someone.” Her eyes darted to the inside of the store before looking away.

Ah. 

Toki went back into the store and heard Skwisgaar whistling as he arranged the boxes behind the desk, totally unaware of the exchange that had transpired. Toki opened his mouth and then closed it, choosing to turn off the remaining lights instead.

He liked Skwisgaar. He really liked him. What was there not to like, anyway? Skwisgaar was handsome, cool and really talented at the guitar. Maybe he was sort of grumpy, but it only added to his aloof demeanor. So it wasn’t surprising to him at all that he was so popular with girls.

That didn’t mean he was happy about it. 

__

About five minutes later, they were coming out of the back of the store. As Skwisgaar dunked the plastic wrap on the trashcan, Toki dared to ask. “Anythings funs for tonights?”

Skwisgaar closed the trashcan and rubbed his hands together. “Sleeps.” He walked down the alleyway, with Toki following quickly. “What abouts you?” A sly smirk. “Hangs with the college bands nerds?”

Toki wanted to act offended, but he couldn’t hold back a smile. “Very funnies.”

“Ja, dats my second names.”

“Reallies?”

“...Noes.”

Toki hesitated for a moment. “Does you wants to eats-”

“Hi!” They had barely crossed to the pavement when the girl came running to them. Before any of them had time to react, she continued. “I came by the store earlier.” She bit down her bottom lip, glancing at Skwisgaar.

“Oh.” Skwisgaar grinned. “Finds somethingks whats you likes?”

She giggled and, if there was any doubt remaining in Toki’s mind about her intentions, it was completely gone now. “You free tonight?”

“Wells-”

“W-We ams abouts to goes eats a borgers!” Toki impulsively got in between them. “We ams really hungries after works.” He rubbed his belly dramatically to emphasize the statement. “Buts you cans come pals if you wants?”

The girl’s gaze alternated between the two of them with surprise. “Sure?” She said, kind of confused. 

Skwisgaar raised an eyebrow at Toki but said nothing. He wasn’t lying, he really did want to ask Skwisgaar to grab dinner together. And just because he didn’t manage to get the words out before she arrived, didn’t mean he had to give up.

Right?

__

“Byes!” Toki bid his classmates farewell, before making his way for his next class. Although, checking his mail, he realized the professor had canceled the class that morning. Awesome, that meant he had time for a quick nap under the sun. Maybe pet some of the kitty cats in the grass. He was so grateful that this college allowed cats to lounge in the park, it was the perfect distraction on stressful days.

Merry on his way he was, when he spotted his other favorite distraction sitting at a nearby table. “Oh!” He raised his hand enthusiastically. “Skwisgaa-” But the word dropped out of his mouth when he realized Skwisgaar wasn’t alone.

Toki hid behind a bush as he spied on them. The girl sitting in front of Skwisgaar had blonde hair picked up in a high ponytail and rosy cheeks. She was wearing a white cardigan with a plain blue top underneath. Her auburn eyes seemed sweet and the way she stared at Skwisgaar was anything but platonic. 

Toki turned around and breathed in deeply, holding tightly onto his books. When he glanced at his books, an idea scoured his mind. 

__

“Skwisgaar! Skwisgaar!” Toki ran towards, shouting his friend’s name.

“Toki?” Skwisgaar called his name in confusion, only to be flabbergasted when Toki dropped his books dramatically on the table. “Whats?!”

“You gotsa helps me!” Toki cried out, pointing at his books. “This financements class! It ams killings me!”

Skwisgaar clenched his jaw. “Tokes, ams in the middols of somet’inks right nows.” He glanced at his companion. “You knows?”

As if he hadn’t noticed her, Toki turned towards the girl. “Oh, Gods! Cans you helps me? I has a tests comings up and-”

“Toki!”

“Oh, it’s no big deal!” She smiled gently and Toki almost felt bad for crashing their date. “Are you guys friends?”

“Ja!”

“Noes!”

She laughed heartily, extending her hand to Toki. “I’m Jennifer, Skwisgaar’s classmate.”

Toki extended his hand back. “Ams Toki!”

“Well, Toki,” Jennifer said, inspecting his books. “I think I know a thing or two about finances.”

He smiled, amazed that his plan had worked. “Reallies?”

Skwisgaar, on the other hand, was completely baffled. And Toki? Toki felt ecstatic over his newfound power.

–

From then on it just kept happening.

Like when Toki was heading to the club and he found Skwisgaar and a short girl with curly red hair at the fountain. The sun was setting which made the location all the more attractive, with the golden reflection of the water bouncing back on their faces. They were dangerously close, with Skwisgaar holding her waist, whispering sweet nothings into her so Toki had to think fast. 

“No ways!” He pointed at the couple. “Skwisgaar, you dumpeds Jennifers?”

Whatever romantic mood there was, it completely dissipated as Skwisgaar turned towards him like he had seen a ghost. “Heugh?”

“Jennifer?” She took a step back. “Who’s Jennifer?”

“Jennifers!” Toki answered quickly. “The sweet girls Skwisgaars was goings out with de other days! Why you does that, Skwisgaars? She ams so nices!”

The red-head turned towards Skwisgaar and he put up his hands instantaneously. “Waits-”

“Asshole!” She slapped Skwisgaar right across the face. 

“Augh!” Skwisgaar rubbed the swollen cheek. 

“Wowee!” Toki was surprised by the sight but she glared at him with anger. “Um,” He tried to look for candy in his pocket, as she approached him. “Does you wants-”

She smacked him in the face. “You too!” She said and strode away.

“Yous cheatingks on yous boyfriends, too!” Skwisgaar yelled at her, still massaging his cheek. “Whats?!” He barked at Toki.

__

Or when he interrupted Skwisgaar’s meet-cute at the library by constantly asking the girl about bugs. 

Or when he surprised Skwisgaar and the girl he was evidently planning to sleep with by waiting at his dorm because it was ‘guitar night’ and played songs for her under Skwisgaar’s annoyed stare.

Or when he kept sending drinks ‘on the house’ for the girl Skwisgaar had come with, at the bar he also worked part-time at. He got fired soon after, though.

Or when he-

“Dats it! Ams done!” Skwisgaar screeched, pants entirely soaked because Toki dropped soda on him when he was asking Skwisgaar’s date about her hand-made skirt. She left while laughing at Skwisgaar, obviously. “What does you wants?!”

Toki feigned innocence. “What you means?”

“You ams been ruins kings my dates for weeks! Weeks, Toke! Can’ts remembers the last times I gets laids!”

Pride swelling in his chest, Toki tried not to smile. “I just wants to pals, Skwisgaar! And dese ladies ams so nice soez I can’ts helps it.” He looked down in pretense shame.

Skwisgaar squinted at him for far too long, and Toki feared he had seen his through motives. “...You wants a goils?” He asked.

This could be the moment. This could be it, when he finally admitted to Skwisgaar how he felt. In the american movies Toki had seen, this is when the confession would happen. And Skwisgaar would like him back, and they would be happy forever after.

“Uh, ja! I wants a goil…friends, haha…” He scratched the side of his face, laughing awkwardly. Reality wasn’t so perfect like those movies.

“Wells, den just says dats.” Skwisgaar rolled his eyes. “I cans sets you up with somes goils. Just stops beingks dildos.”

“Haha, okays!” Toki agreed, slinging an arm around Skwisgaar’s. “Whats abouts a Marios Karts before works?”

Skwisgaar’s face was still severe, brows furrowed when he looked at Toki. However, his expression swifty softened. “Fines.”

“Hoorays!” Toki cheered, pulling his vintage console from his messenger bag. “Ams gonnas destroy yous!”

“Eugh, keeps dreamingks, littol dildo.” Skwisgaar said, though he was smirking. “Mademes Peaches and me ams a pretties good teams.”

“Yoshis and Tokes ams betters!” Toki countered, laughing too.

As they walked away, he wondered if he’d ever have the bravery to tell Skwisgaar the truth. If he’d ever had the courage to ruin what they had for a meek gamble. 

Perhaps one day, but definitely not this one.

[eccentricgrace]

the one who left behind his name || BatFamily

summary: dick gets hit with fear toxin. this experience reveals a lot of surprising conversations he needs to have with his brothers.

tags: dick grayson’s eldest daughter syndrome, bruce wayne’s c+ parenting, fear toxin, lots of hugs, hurt/comfort, found family feels

wc: 12,100

⚠️tw: canon-typical violence, blood, injury

cross-posted on ao3 under the same name!

The irony was, Dick didn’t see the green mist settle in until it was on his tongue. An acrid, medicinal film, seizing his lungs in a chokehold while he buckled over, hands clutching at his knees for a sense of stability.

In a second, his mind sparked back on like a match lit in a gas chamber. His hand shot up to his mouth, it clamped around his nose, he held his breath; all attempts in vain to undo what he knew would begin soon.

He made an ‘abort’ gesture, stumbling back into the shadows. “Robin,” he rasped out. “Code Fern. I’ve been hit, we’re heading out. I need Agent A to—“

“I’ve got it,” Damian snapped. “I’ve collected a sample for Agent A to analyze as we sit here wasting time. What’s your status?”

Dick grimaced as he tried to think of a way to soften the blow, to ease the fears edging from his baby brother’s voice. It was hard to think when he could feel his heart start to pound, when he knew the beginning of something terrific was stirring, except ‘terrific’ meant—

“Nightwing, status,” Damian repeated, his voice strung tight. “Do we need to call an assist?”

“No,” Dick said quickly, even though his legs shook and there’s a stutter in his heartbeat. He ignored it and pulled himself down the dark street.

In a moment, the world twisted on its axis, and in the second that Dick paused to blink, Damian was at his side. He shoved his small frame under Dick’s arm, trying to support his weight.

“Liar,” Damian hissed. “You can’t even stand straight, Grayson—“

“Names,” he chided lightly.

Damian ignored him and pressed forward with determination. “We need to get you to the cave before Crane’s delusions kick in.”

Dick half-heartedly agreed, and tried not to acknowledge the growing twitchiness of his mind. He felt eyes at the back of his neck, something lurking in the dark, watching them.

“Stay alert, Robin,” Dick directed, turning his head to get a view of his peripherals. “We’re still on the ground, baby bat.”

Damian made a frustrated sound and continued ignoring him.

“Nightwing,” a voice filtered in through his comms. Low, gruff, stern. Shit. “Status.”

Dick exhaled stiffly through his nose and brought a hand up to his earpiece. “I got hit. Low grade gang, I wasn’t expecting them to have toxin. I think they stole it, but still— I should have known Scarecrow’s long silence was a red flag.”

“You should’ve,” Bruce cut in. His tone was clear, made up of all his no-nonsense inflections that always made him feel like he was eight years old again, with all of the false confidence and none of the worthwhile experience. “That’s disappointing, Nightwing. I trained you better than this.”

The words sent a rush of anxiety through him, like he’d been mentally knocked back. His throat went tight as he tried to form an argument. “I—“

Dick paused. His hand hesitated on the comms, and he pulled away. He looked to Damian, who was watching him with a not-so-subtle side eye. “Isn’t B off tonight? I thought he had a gala.”

“Father isn’t online,” Damian confirmed, his eyes narrowing through the domino. “Are you hearing him now?”

Dick sighed in agitation and let his hand drop from the earpiece. He avoided Damian’s exact question, instead saying: “We need to move faster.”

Damian nodded, schooling his expression into determination. His face faded in and out of view as they marched through the dark alleyway, his hand retaining its tight grip on Dick’s elbow.

“I failed you tonight,” Damian said. He was sure. Certain.

He’s never certain of himself, not really, not unless he believed he had made a mistake. It’s one of the many things that Dick had learned the hard way, one that still broke his heart when he caught it.

“I should have noticed the toxin before you got hit. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” Damian ducked his head once.

“It will,” Bruce said, his voice ringing metallic through comms. “He’ll disappoint you again, and again, and you’ll have to watch until you can’t do it any longer. Not even I could stand you for too long. The cycle won’t break.”

(“You’re firing me?” Dick guffawed, his arm still in its sling, fresh blood still on his bandages. “Bruce—“

“This isn’t for discussion. You’re done,” Bruce said. He turned around. He won’t look at him. Why won’t he look at him? “You aren’t being safe, you’re taking too many risks.”

“Necessary risks!” Dick cut in, the forced smile slipping from his face. His eyebrows are pulled tight in a stressed glower. “You can’t just take Robin away from me, Bruce. Robin is mine, I am Robin.”

“Not anymore,” Bruce snapped. He stalked toward the door, still hiding his face, the damned coward. “You were fatally injured, Dick. You were reckless. You failed the mission. You don’t deserve—”)

Dick’s exhaled sharply. He forced himself down to his knees and gripped Damian’s shoulders. His head hurt. He swallowed thickly. “You’ve never failed me.”

Bruce made a low, disapproving sound. “That’s not what I said, Robin. I’m in your head, I know you haven’t forgotten what really happened.”

Dick flinched, his shoulders hiking up to his ears. He shut his eyes tightly. “We’ll talk more about this later, but the serum, it’s getting worse.”

“You can’t listen to it,” Damian reminded him, his face pulled into a determined scowl. “It isn’t real. None of it is real.”

“It was real, though,” Bruce scoffed. “Wasn’t it?”

(Bruce’s mouth snapped shut before he finished the sentence, his teeth audibly clicking together.

“I don’t deserve what?” Dick asked quietly. His face was hot, the air rushing out from his nose like a dragon, like some beastly inhuman thing.

Bruce said nothing. He said nothing, and wouldn’t look at him, and Dick felt more alone now than he had since…)

“Nightwing!” Damian shook him off. “Focus!”

Dick groaned and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, his head spinning. His heart was beating out of his chest, he felt sick. He couldn’t move, not even if he wanted to— he just felt paralyzed.

“It’s not real,” Damian said, grabbing his wrist. “Damn it, Nightwing. Snap out of it!”

(“You made me this, Bruce, I don’t have anything else,” Dick said, and as he said it the words bubble into a manic laugh, like he’s just realizing it for the first time.

For so long he’d seen it as the only good thing in his life, that Bruce had been able to save him from himself. That Bruce had scooped him up from the bloodied floors of the Circus, cold floors of the Gotham City orphanage— but now the floors of the cave are just as bloody, just as cold.

A gilded cage is still a cage.

The only good thing in his life has now just become the only thing. He’s a bird without wings.

Bruce didn’t say goodbye to him before he left.)

“I was busy,” Bruce said lamely. “You were acting like a child.”

“I was a child,” Dick rasped, the words keening from his throat. His vision tunneled, going dark around the edges, and he bit back a swear. “Robin, call backup.”

If Damian replied, he couldn’t hear. There’s another hand pulling at his wrist, to which he knocked away in his panicked instincts. A following clatter on the ground echoed through the darkness, then a muffled sound of pain.

“Shit,” Dick said. “Shit, I’m so sorry. Are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you—“

Bruce sighed with resignation. “Always reckless. Always endangering the people you claim to love. You won’t ever learn, will you, Robin?”

A blinding light hit his eyes, and he hissed, his arms shielding his face from the spotlight. Wind whipped around him, and there was so much sound that started at him in waves. Cheers and whistles, the steady tin dribbling of a timpani, a symphony of thunderous applause.

Dick weakly dropped his arms, squinting out at the lights, all white beams that strobe past him, that move in and out of view. In the light, little bits of paper fell: cheap, thin squares in colours of faded red, yellow, green—

He’s been here before.

A million times, more, he’s been here. He breathed in, was hit with the scent of hay, of chalk, of sweat, of blood. On his tongue he could taste it, the metallic tang of sheer horror and a scream so deep it could only be felt.

“Richard!”

Dick’s head shot up. Crouched on the edge of a platform an entire tent’s length away, he could catch the blurry figure of Damian. He was injured, blood dripping from his nose.

A spotlight dropped on Damian, and the boy winced, ducking his head to cover his eyes. Dick’s mind stalled. He couldn’t tell what was real or not.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN… BOYS AND GIRLS… HALEY’S CIRCUS IS PROUD TO ANNOUNCE…”

A trapeze dropped from nowhere, the bar dull with chalk. The timpani sped up, drumming impossibly in tandem with his heartbeat.

“…FOR ONE NIGHT ONLY…”

In all his nightmares, Dick could see where the rope was fraught, could see what he missed the time that it counted. This wasn’t an outlier. He could see the singed edges, he could see them.

“…THE FLYING GRAYSONS!”

(He was four when he learned to fly. He was never nervous. He never felt safer than he did holding onto his Tată’s warm hands, and he never felt more free than when he was swinging through the air with a laugh in his chest.

“I want to do this forever,” he insisted after his first day of practice, standing on his toes. “Can I, Mamă? Please?”

“My little Robin,” Mamă laughed sweetly, combing his hair back between her fingers. “You were just born to fly, hm?”)

The band was playing loud, circus music that twisted in all the wrong ways, in all the wrong shapes. Dick hazarded an alarmed look towards Damian.

“Dami,” he called out frantically, stepping up. “Damian, hang on. Don’t move, okay?”

Damian’s eyes look back at him, all wide, unsteady. He looked so young now that he had removed his domino— Dick can’t remember when he’d done that.

“Richard!” He called out. “Do you have a plan?”

(He’s eight years old and it’s the end of this summer’s tour. His Mamă did his hair, gelled the short waves down nice so they wouldn’t fall in his eyes when he hung upside down, because he’d fretted when they started practicing their big act.

He’s got his perfect show-stopping smile on, one of his front teeth missing, but bright and cheery all the same. His outfit had been pressed last night, glittery red and green with stripes of yellow dashed along the chest to look like a bird.

His knees locked around a trapeze bar, and he swung back and forth, grinning at Mamă because she’s always so beautiful when she soars through the air. She winked at him, and to his glee, he caught a quick glimpse of her sparkly eyeshadow.

The crowds cheered. He felt like he was on top of the world.)

The platform Damian stood on wavered, and he gritted his teeth, holding out his arms to keep some semblance of balance. He looked back up, barely-concealed panic in his eyes. “Richard, we’re running out of time. I should— I have to jump.”

“No!” Dick shouted, a sudden bark of a word. He made himself sound as stern as he could, the panic ramping up in his chest. “Damian, do not jump. Stay there.”

Damian was going to fall. There wasn’t a question about it. Dick looked at the bar dangling in front of them, and he made a choice.

“I’m—“ Dick took a steadying breath, and forced his shoulders to relax. “I’m coming to you. Just stay there.”

Bruce had trained him for moments like these. Times if his cable broke, if some accident occurred to his grapnel while he was still in the air. He knew, theoretically, the least-damaging way to land from a potentially lethal height.

That was with one person. Not two.

He pictured the steps in his mind. Grabbing Damian, tucking him to his chest, turning over before the inevitable impact. Injury would be the best case scenario.

Dick’s ready to take that chance.

(Dick’s swinging back and forth, the blood rushing to his head, and something about the rope—

Mamă was swinging towards him, and something wasn’t right. The rope thinned, and before Dick could even process what the problem was— it happened.

SNAP.

His Tată gasped, his Mamă’s eyes went wide, her hand still stretched out to take his.

Dick’s arm lunged as far as he could without falling, his small fingers strung out as if the centimeters would make a difference.

It didn’t.

He screamed, and he kept screaming, and sometimes it felt like he never truly stopped.)

“Damian.” Dick smiled, attempting to pacify him before the damage. “You’ll be okay.”

Damian furrowed his eyebrows, his eyes wildly darting from the trapeze bar to Dick. “What? Richard, don’t do anything stupid! What are you—“

He took a few steps back, shook out his limbs, and swallowed his fear.

He leaped towards the bar. The rope strained under his weight, he could hear the way it pulled. Damian yelled a swear, seemingly having connected the dots. It didn’t matter now. He needed to build more momentum.

He swung his legs back and kicked them forward, and a loud round of applause shook the stadium. The platform Damian stood on wavered, and he nearly toppled over the side of the uneasy ground.

Dick swore, and he kicked harder, using every bit of his weight to get the trapeze moving.

“Damian!” He shouted. “Jump on three! Okay? I’ll catch you!”

Backwards, forwards. Dick’s hands were sweaty through the gloves of his suit. Damian was mouthing to himself: One.

Backwards, forwards. The rope pulled taut. It creaked. It was almost over. Two.

Backwards, forwards. He launched off, the rope pulling apart with an echoing snap. His eyes locked on Damian, who had jumped towards him just as the platform crumbled. Three.

Dick reached out his hands.

(Mamă reached out her hands.)

He’s falling.

(She’s falling.)

Damian’s fingers brushed against his, just barely, just enough for Dick to pull him closer. The two of them tumbled through the air, birds without wings. The world spun, and Dick turned Damian away from the impact as it grew closer—

It took two seconds for the world to explode in a menagerie of bright, painful colours. Two moves. His spine, the ground. The wind knocked out of him.

Under the sound of the audience, still clapping, still cheering, oblivious to the blood, he could hear them— the circus clowns laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

In his arms, a crumpled bundle shifted and cried out. Dick hissed weakly as the movement jostled his back. A spark of fear gave him the energy to lift his chin, just enough to look down.

“Damian?” He wheezed. “Dami, you okay?”

Damian climbed off of his chest, and held a hand to his head. It came back blood-soaked, crimson running down his wrist. He looked back at Dick with dazed eyes. He made a small, confused sound at the back of his throat.

“Fuck,” Dick sat up, ignoring the white hot pain shooting through his entire body. He stumbled close to Damian to investigate the wound.

Somewhere during the fall, he’d hit his head. There was a lot of blood. Inevitable– head injuries were always the bloodiest because the brain needed a lot of blood; there were a lot of vessels to be broken up there. He definitely had a concussion.

He pressed pressure onto the wound, sinking a terrible warmth into the fabric of his suit.

“Okay,” Dick said quickly, cradling Damian’s head in his hands. “You’re okay.”

(He was always more tired after a mission.

Usually the farther it was, the more free he felt— an effect of his nomadic early years. He learned pretty fast that the rule didn’t apply to extraterrestrial travel. He preferred his feet on the ground he knew best, and the long space missions the Titans had to go out on lately were really good at draining him of all his energy.

That’s why he spent the entire trip home soothing the bone-deep exhaustion by imagining himself walking through the door. He’d collapse on the couch, sprawl all his limbs out and laugh at the way Jason would trail in after him with a scowl.

Jason would stumble over his explanation that the first living room’s TV had the best audio quality, to shove over so he could watch The Princess Bride, and Dick would move over just to kick his feet back over Jason’s legs.

They’d wrestle over the remote and then Jason would glare at him and say “welcome back, by the way,” and then Dick would finally feel like he was home.)

Someone dropped behind him. The fall of heavy boots. A familiar sound. Dick turned around and faced a red helmet and full weaponry.

“You called for an assist,” Hood said bluntly.

“Damian,” Dick rattled off quickly, keeping his hand clamped on the bleeding wound. “I mean Robin, he’s injured. TBI, external bleeding head injury, I haven’t had time to properly triage.”

(He’s walking up the hill, the winding road up to the foyer, and he’s thinking about Alfred’s hot cocoa. He’s thinking of Bruce, and mimicking his facial expressions everytime he turned away until Jason cracked and let out one of his kiddie high-pitched laughs.

He got to the door, and something felt wrong, like the rope, like the—)

Hood stalked forward. He clicked his helmet off and tossed it to the side, the metal clanging on concrete. He leaned down beside Damian and looked over the wound.

“Definitely a concussion,” Hood sighed heavily. He said something mumbled to himself, then tried snapping his fingers in front of Damian’s face.

Damian was wildly out of it, drifting in and out of consciousness. His fingers twitched from where they were held in one of Dick’s hands, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth curling in an annoyed sneer— he was scared, disoriented, and he was trying to fight it off. Oh, Dami.

(Maybe he was paranoid. Recent events had definitely made him noticeably more twitchy, but he couldn’t imagine why it would make him feel like this.

Not even paranoia could cause this, he wanted to think— this feeling of something so deeply off center, a molecular-level change that he couldn’t place.

He took a breath, shook off his shoulders, and put on a smile— perfect, show stopping, just like Mamă taught him — before he knocked on the door.

The door opened promptly. Alfred had been waiting for him.

Alfred’s hand shook lightly on the door handle. His handkerchief was tucked messily into his suit pocket, wrinkled and well-used. His hair was thinner, his eyes were sunken in, red-rimmed, his lips were pulled together primly. Grief emanated from every tired line of his body.

Dick’s smile was whisked away and paranoia was replaced with dread, shuddering over him faster than he could breathe, from his hair’s split-ends to the soles of his feet.

He swallowed, his gaze going steely. “Who was it?”)

Dick shuddered, everything was hurting so badly— the world was blurring, he’s messing everything up, and Damian was injured in his lap and he needed help.

“We have to get him to the cave, or Leslie’s,” Dick pleaded, looking up to Jason. “Whichever’s faster.”

“The cave. Leslie’s on the other side of town, and Agent A is already prepared for a shit show,” Jason said. After a moment, he sighed. “I got here on my motorcycle, though. Not enough room for three, even if Demon Brat is a shrimp.”

“Take him,” Dick said immediately. He lifted Damian up, his entire spine screaming with pain. He winced, and pressed on. “Take him to the cave, I’ll find my way back.”

“Whatever.” Jason reached down and took him in his arms. “What happened, anyway?”

(“Bruce. Tell me you’re lying,” Dick said, barely getting the words out with the way he shook. “Tell me you didn’t bury my…”

Bruce didn’t speak. He was looking at him, finally, after all the time, but his gaze was empty. His eyes were grey, devoid of feeling, of focus.

“Bruce!” Dick shouted, slamming his fist on the desk. He needed Bruce to flinch, to blink, to breathe. Anything would be better than this.

Bruce just stared.

“God damn it, answer me!” Dick punched the table again, his eyes scanning furiously over Bruce’s void of energy.)

“Dickface,” Jason snapped, sounding mildly alarmed. He shifted uncomfortably, the unconscious kid groaning in his arms. “Hey, what the fuck. It wasn’t that serious, why’re you crying?”

Dick blinked rapidly, his hands coming up to his face. Tears made his cheeks wet and cold. “I don’t know,” he said, wiping them away. “I don’t know, I— he fell. That’s what happened. We—“

“Did you fucking drop him?” Jason spat out, looking at Dick with disgust.

“I didn’t drop him,” Dick bit down, his teeth clicking together painfully. His stomach turned with waves of nausea. “We fell together, I tried to—“

“You did,” Jason scoffed. “You did drop him. Nice fucking going, Dickie. Do you know what a fall from that height does to someone as small as him? You may be able to take it, but chances are he fucking won’t.”

(Bruce swallowed. “I’m sorry, Dick,” he mumbled drunkenly. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Dick’s vision was beginning to blur, a familiar rage burning its way back into his veins, back to the circus, back to screams and police sirens, back to Zucco.

An empty whisky glass from Bruce’s desk found its way into Dick’s hand, and was thrown across the room with a brilliant amount of force. Dick didn't look while it shattered and fell to the carpet in a million shining pieces.

“Sorry is something you say when you break a fucking glass,” Dick gritted out. “Not when you kill somebody’s fucking little brother.”

He couldn’t breathe. He’s taking in air faster than his lungs could register it. “What did you do, Bruce? What the hell did you do?!”)

“You’d think the first one would be enough for the lesson to stick,” Jason spat bitterly. “But no, somehow, you just keep collecting dead birds, huh?”

“No,” Dick scraped out. He bowed his head, pressing into the gravely pavement. A gasp forced out from his lungs as the tears made him heave. “No, no, no.”

The boots trailed around him in a lazy circle. “Another baby brother lost. Stop fucking crying, Dickie, I know you don’t actually care. You gonna miss his funeral, too?”

“I’m so sorry.” Dick made fists, he grasped uselessly at the concrete, catching and ripping at the fabric of his gloves. “He didn’t tell me. Jason, please. Please, I’m so sorry.”

“Sure. Sure, he didn’t tell you, so it wasn’t your fault.” Jason gripped his hair and yanked his head up. “Which is it, then? It isn’t your fault, or you’re sorry? Which is it?”

He’s pissed. His eyes a manic green, the way animals carried vibrant patterns so predators knew to steer clear. It’d been so long since his last bout of pit madness, he’d already fought this battle before, it was supposed to be over.

“Everything you are, was what I wanted to be,” Jason said slowly, his eyes dark and gleaming, tilted and dangerous. “Now I can’t even look at you without feeling sick.”

“I know,” Dick croaked.

“When we finally kick the bucket, I pray we go to different hells.”

Jason released his grip, and Dick’s skull slammed against the floor in a blinding white flash.

(“Nightwing. We’ve gotten a code red from Titan Tower.”

Dick paused, his movements lilting in confusion. “Tim’s the only one there this weekend.”

A sharp inhale through the nose, B’s telltale giveaway of panic. “The Red Hood has been seen at the location.”

Something heavy fell in Dick’s stomach. His eyes darkened. “…Leaving now.”)

Rather than waking up in one of Gotham’s infamous back alleys, Dick lifted his head in an indoor grey hallway, industrial, stretching a long way before an inevitable turn.

His heart was still pounding, his breath still stuttered with every inhale and exhale. Two brothers gone, two fathers lost, one mother dead. He wanted to curl up and stay there shaking until it was all over, let the misery wash over him until the bubbles stopped.

“I didn’t train you to give up,” Bruce said, his voice cracking through his skull. “If you’re going to die, you’re going to make it useful.”

Someone was calling his name. Somewhere else, as it echoed and rebounded through the ominous hallway. He lifted his head again to look.

At the far end of the hallway, just before the turn, a dash of red smeared on the wall. Dick knew like the back of his hand what was meant to follow, every horrible moment that awaited him.

“Don’t just lay there,” Bruce commanded. “Run, Robin.”

(Dick’s voice was hoarse from how loudly he’s bellowing as he sprinted through the tower’s floors. He barely heard Tim at all, a cry, weak and frail as a baby bird’s, and then he was running again towards the sound.)

He was running through the hallways. He couldn’t remember getting up, all he could remember was—

(—blood on the wall. Blood on the floor. It was everywhere.

Good god, it was everywhere, and in the center of it all there was—)

“Tim!” Dick fell to his knees, gathering up the teen and pressing his hand to his bleeding neck.

Tim keened, tears and spilling crimson on his cheeks, his chin, his nose. He grasped helplessly at Dick’s arms, his feet pushing against the floor in a squirming mess as he tried to deal with the pain.

“It’s okay,” Dick repeated feverishly. He’s moving like a ghost, like a possessed man, like a puppet. “I’ve got you. Come on, we’re going to the med bay. Come on.”

He scooped Tim up and half-dragged him to the medical bay, and he’s digging through the drawers with one hand and—

(— he’s holding Tim’s bleeding throat with the other, and Tim kept trying to speak. He was gasping and floundering like his life depending on choking the words out, rather than actually living.

Dick kept shushing him. He’s razor-focused, he’s scatter-brained, his hands are doing a million things at once, he’s not moving fast enough. He packed the hemostatic gauze and—)

— he wrapped the injury with more cloth, and—

(—it’s hiding the red, it’s working, his little brother will be okay, Dick will make it okay and—)

—there’s so much blood, it was soaking through, and nothing was working. It wasn’t supposed to be this. This wasn’t supposed to happen. These weren’t the way the words were written. This wasn’t how the story was supposed to go.

“You’re—“ Tim gasped, the sound wretched and wet. “A murderer. A fraud. You…”

Dick made a panicked noise as he pressed more gauze, more cloth, more pressure, and the shock was starting to settle into Tim’s body. His eyes were going glassy. His face was so pale underneath the bruises and drying blood.

Tim gurgled, his hands going limp and falling to the side.

“Not another,” Dick shook. “Not— Not again.”

He reached out—

(—to take his mother’s hand—)

(—to call Bruce—)

(—to ruffle his brother’s hair—)

(—to keep pressure on the wound—)

—and his hand is caught by someone else’s.

It was akin to the exact moment a storm cleared, or taking a proper breath after a marathon. Atlas with a sudden bout of freedom, shoulders free of the world for one clear, distinct moment.

He exhaled, squeezing the hand in his in a strange desperation. He needed this to be real.

The hand squeezed back. Someone’s speaking to him in low, soothing tones.

The scene in front of him faded away into nothing, a cloak of darkness falling over his view. He felt tired enough to sink into the dark, enough to breathe now like it wouldn’t be his last breath.

Distantly he thought maybe his heart had finally given up, that this was the peace before his consciousness gave into oblivion. A pang sat in his throat, a heaviness at the thought that he would be leaving his family in need of him, but — but this couldn’t be stopped. Not anymore.

“Shh…” a callused hand gently graced his face. It’s warm and it’s safe, and he was so tired. His eyes shut, his body went lax at the abrupt crash of adrenaline. “It’s all better now. Just rest.”

In the end, it hardly felt like a choice at all.

He went to sleep.

Waking up properly was a slow, miserable process.

He kept getting flashes of awareness, fragments of scents, of sights, of sounds. Sometimes he panicked, and then there was that voice again, gruff and steady, telling him everything was going to be fine.

All the while, he dreamt.

In dreams, everything was just as fuzzy, so much so that it was hard to distinguish from reality until he would jerk back awake.

He was nine, carrying his things in a big black grocery bag he got from a social worker up the front steps of the manor. He’s thirteen and he’s broken his ankle on patrol. B won’t stop fretting and Dick won’t stop rolling his eyes.

He’s fifteen and he hated the world and he loved his dad. He’s seventeen and he wanted to come home now, really, he did.

He’s eighteen and he loved to sit next to his little brother and listen while he read books with words so big he couldn’t pronounce them out loud. He’s twenty-two and his little brother was dead and every morning he made two bowls of cereal for himself and a ghost.

He’s twenty-four and there’s a scrawny boy with messy dark hair and determined blue eyes on his doorstep and his brother’s voice was in ear telling him about “the importance of remembering history, Dickface.”

He’s twenty-five and Robin kept looking up to him with such hesitancy, and Dick hated himself because he couldn’t remember how to be who he needed to be. His smiles became more bright, the unfortunate but necessary byproduct of an artificial sun.

He’s twenty-six and everything was upside down. Damian was so angry, Tim was too confident, Jason wasn’t himself. For a moment Dick knew how Bruce felt. Maybe they were never cut out for loving people. He didn’t think it was supposed to hurt this much.

Now, Dick lazily blinked the sleep away from his eyes and swallowed the stagnant saliva in his mouth. He felt warm from what he assumed to be an IV drip, and dizzy from whatever drugs he had to be on.

“Dick.”

Dick glanced over to the chair beside him, where Bruce was still sitting. He had a neutral expression on his face, but his shoulders were tight, and he knew exhaustion when he saw it. He knew Bruce.

“Are you with me?” Bruce asked.

Dick exhaled carefully through his nose. Chances are that this wasn’t another hallucination— especially because he felt like an actual human being and not anxiety personified. “Depends. I thought you had a gala tonight.”

“I had a gala two nights ago.”

Dick sighed. He used his strength to push himself up into a sitting position. Bruce’s eyes never leave, tracking along each movement with quiet calculation. “I was out that long?”

Bruce grunted an affirmative.

This was the part of the mission where Dick would give his report, try and point out all his mistakes, inevitably fail, and listen to Bruce’s lecture about the most important thing he missed.

No reason to mess with tradition, he figured, so he let his head fall back on the pillow and went back to where it all went wrong.

“Damian and I were on patrol. I got dosed with toxin,” Dick recounted, closing his eyes. “I gave the order to get out of there. I told Damian to call backup after the hallucinations started feeling more real.”

A flying trapeze. The Red Hood. Tim. Dick sighed again, his cheeks going hot. “The hallucinations were unrealistic, I should have been more logical with my approach. It was the flashbacks that screwed me over, I think. It made everything… feel real.”

Bruce wasn’t saying anything, only watched him carefully. All this time and Dick still hated when he did that. He looked back at him and waited for the reproach, the promised lecture.

Bruce finally cleared his throat. “Fear toxin alters the mind,” he said. “Often the first thing to go is rationality and logic. I don’t blame you, Dick— you were strong, you and Damian made it out alive. Today, that’s what counts.”

Dick hesitated, watched the way Bruce’s eyes flickered, the way his jaw tensed minutely between certain words.

“Something happened when I was out,” he surmised. Bruce looked away, effectively confirming that he was right on the money. “What was it?”

“It proved… challenging,” Bruce struggled, “to get you en route to the cave. The footage is available, but I would avoid it this time. It was a close call.”

“Was I the only one hurt?” Dick asked, swallowing the lump in his throat. His mind flashed him pictures of Damian in his arms, of Tim on the ground. He hated fear toxin.

Bruce nodded once. “Nobody else sustained injuries.”

Dick sighed with instant relief. He let himself relax back into the cot. “Where is everyone, then? I figured at least Damian would be here.”

“I sent him to bed,” Bruce crossed his arms, a very tired amusement passing his face. “I stopped letting him argue back at hour forty-four. He hadn’t even changed out of his suit.”

Dick smiled. “How long ago?”

Bruce flicked his wrist out and glanced at his watch. “Six hours ago. It’s two in the morning.”

Not enough sleep for Dick to justify waking him up. He’ll wait for a few more hours, or until Damian wakes up to find him. Whichever came first.

“You should go to sleep,” Dick told him, because he could see the dark circles and knew Bruce probably had been too busy working on an antidote with Tim to rest. At Bruce’s visible hesitation, he rolled his eyes. “I’ll be alright here. I know you have me hooked up to monitors anyway. Seriously, get out of here.”

Bruce took a moment, and then relented with a heavy sigh. “If something comes up, you know what to do. Goodnight, Dick.”

Dick found the footage on the lenses of Robin’s mask.

He didn’t like watching himself on fear toxin, not that anybody did. The vulnerability is unsettling, sure, but watching himself behave like a wild animal never sat with him the right way. He couldn’t be like Bruce, who would watch his patrol footage and pick it apart mercilessly just to improve his technique.

Furthermore, it was weird to see himself from Damian’s eyes. Himself, crouched down so they’re eye-to-eye. In the footage, Dick was trembling. He flinched at nothing.

“The serum,” he had said, but his voice sounded distant, like his head wasn’t fully there. “It’s getting worse.”

Then, Damian. Sure-fire and defiant. “You can’t listen to it. It isn’t real. None of it is real.”

With Damian’s eyes, he watched himself look around the alleyway like a hunted dog. His chest stalling every few seconds and then his breath increasing in speed.

“Nightwing!” Damian reached for his arm and shook violently. “Focus!”

He made a wounded noise and didn’t move, hiding his face in his hands— he remembered this. He remembered this happening. This was when the first flashbacks kept catching him off guard.

“It’s not real,” Damian had tried. “Nightwing, snap out of it!”

This was where memory started to trail off from reality.

In reality, Damian was on his comms, his eyes locked on target to whatever Dick was doing, ready to catch him if he flew off. He was calling a code— Oracle sent everyone to pick up collateral. Hood, Red Robin, Spoiler, and Orphan. They went in teams.

Damian doesn’t leave his side. The footage clipped to a later timestamp.

He watched himself flounder in terror, looking around with choked gasps and half-mumbled words like he was caught in a nightmare.

“Damian. Dami.” Dick caught Damian’s arm, his eyes distant, his pupils shrunk small. He was whispering. “Damian. You’ll be okay.”

Damian froze. He quickly turned away as a motorcycle was heard behind.

Dick watched as Jason came into view, much like he did in the hallucinations, although here he moved forward more like he was approaching a feral animal.

“You called for an assist?” He tried to joke, his usual deadpan failing with the undercurrent of worry that pulsed through. (Neither of them did well with fear toxin. They hated it both equally.)

Dick watched himself react to the words like he’d just taken a bullet. The way he lurched away, the immediate hurt that followed on Jason’s face.

“It’s not you,” Damian said immediately, echoing the thoughts Dick had. “You know that, Todd.”

“I know,” Jason shrugged. He inched forward tentatively anyways.

“No,” Dick scraped out, gasping. He started to scrape at the ground with his hands, leaving them bloody. “No, no, no.”

“Fuck,” Jason said quickly, as both him and Damian rushed to stop him from shredding any more skin. Jason flinched as Dick let out another keening cry.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, his head lulling uselessly forward. His body shuddered violently. “He didn’t… tell me… Jason, please. Please, I’m so sorry...”

Jason made a frustrated sound, strangled at the back of his throat. “Fuck. I’m making it worse. Why didn’t you call Tim? He likes Tim.”

“You’re not making it worse,” Damian snapped. “Stay focused.”

“I’m focused,” Jason snapped back. “Let’s get him to the cave. You think you can keep up with me with your grapple?”

Damian marched forward, taking the hook from his belt. He exhaled stiffly through his nose. “Don’t ask stupid questions, Hood. We’re wasting time. I’ll see you there.”

The footage jumped again, rerouting to the security feed in the cave. It showed the medical bay at the forefront, the cot he was lying in, and the computer in the back. It was chaos.

Jason and Bruce argued loudly as they held down Dick’s arms and kept him pinned to the cot, as he seized and gasped. Alfred stood to the side holding an oxygen mask to Dick’s face, trying to get the two to stop shouting. Damian stood still at the foot of the bed, scowling while he overlooked vitals. His hands shook.

“His BPM is too high,” Damian growled over the noise. He spun around to where Tim had been pacing in the back. “Drake, his heart is going to inevitably fail if you don’t work faster.”

Tim, muttering to himself, moving around computers and flasks like a mad scientist, didn’t meet him with even a look. “I’m working as fast as I can,” he spat back. “Yelling at me won’t make a cure magically exist.”

“I’m just saying,” Jason insisted, “he got worse a hell of a lot faster after I showed up, and now with you here, he’s about to fucking die!”

“I didn’t ask you to just say,” Bruce cut sharply. “You know just as well as anybody else that the effects of Crane’s toxins are unpredictable, and–”

Dick managed to land a stray hit in all his panic, shoving Bruce away and sitting up from the cot. His eyes wild, his chest heaving; he pushed out of Jason and Alfred’s hands and tried to stumble off the cot.

“Fuck,” Jason swore. “Now look what you fucking did–”

Damian clenched his teeth. “You idiots– can’t you do one job correctly?!”

Tim swung around. He marched over, pushing Damian to the side, shoving past Jason and Bruce, and ignoring them all as they turned their attention. He leaned down beside Dick, who had fallen to his knees. He held a syringe in his hand.

“Tim,” Dick stammered, reaching forward. “You’re bleeding, you’re…”

Tim grabbed his arm and stuck the syringe into a vein, his jaw set in a firm line. Dick made a panicked noise and seemed to flounder back, but he had already finished injecting the antidote. It was done.

“It’ll set in an hour,” Tim said, looking around the stunned room of people. “He’ll probably sleep a lot, so someone should sit with him. And all of you should apologize to Alfred for the headache.”

After a beat of silence, it was Damian who spoke first.

“I’ll take the first shift.” He paused. “...Hopefully you did a considerable job, Drake.”

The footage ended.

Dick turned the device off with a shaking hand and closed his eyes for a long, long time. He breathed in. He breathed out. He did it again, and again, and again, until it didn’t feel like he was living it anymore.

He had barely been drifting when the door to the medical bay creaked open. When there was no following noise, Dick knew it was Damian. His footsteps were always too quiet to hear unless he wanted someone to hear them.

He opened his eyes, and Damian was scowling at him.

Dick smiled easily. “Hi, there.”

Damian scowled harder.

Dick’s smile faded, and he swallowed, letting himself go solemn. “I’m sorry, Dami. I know, I shouldn’t have let myself get hit. I endangered you, I could have hurt you, or worse—“

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Damian scoffed. He marched into the room, sitting down in the nearest chair with a huff.

His hair stuck up in all directions, he was still wearing his pyjamas. Dick noted with unrestrained glee that it was the joke Nightwing pair he bought last Christmas. He just looked like any normal kid who had been woken up too early, and Dick loved him more than words could express.

“Do you want to talk about anything?” Dick asked instead, tilting his head. “I know whenever B got hit with a fear toxin, I would get pretty freaked out.”

Damian watched him quietly for a long moment, his eyebrows furrowed as if he were considering this. He knew sometimes it took a moment for Damian to decide whether or not he was safe to engage in a particular conversation, and he respected that— so he went quiet and patiently waited.

“You spoke a lot,” Damian said finally, his expression easing. “Much of it was incoherent, but there were times where you would say something clear. I believe you were convinced I was in danger.”

Dick nodded. He kept his hands folded on his lap to prevent himself from fidgeting too much.

Damian then looked down. “I believe you lied to me. You told me it would be okay. Or, tried to.”

“I did,” Dick said slowly.

Damian’s jaw clenched, his eyes very focused on the floor. “You nearly died several times before Drake synthesized a working antidote. The fear was making your heart dangerously fast— anybody else not used to the stress would have died.”

Dick frowned, but remained quiet.

Damian looked back up, the scowl returning, albeit weak. It couldn’t hide his watery eyes. “It would not have been okay, Grayson.”

The youngest of all of them. Underneath all the violence and sharp words, it was hard to forget that Damian was still just a kid — a kid who had lost everything just like the rest of them.

“I’m sorry,” Dick said quietly. He hesitated. “You’re right, Damian. I’m sorry.”

“I do not wish to grieve you,” Damian warned, an imperceptible waver in his voice. “It would be inconvenient. Your life is–”

The words broke, and he quickly looked away, glaring harder at the floor.

He sniffled and his hand quickly swiped over his cheeks. He kept his shoulders tight, his body language full of fire and brimstone, spiked and thorned just like he’d been when he first arrived.

“If you die,” he said coldly, baring his teeth, “I’ll hate you forever.”

There are few things on this earth that meant as much to Dick as his family. After everything he’d lost, the things he gained only meant that much more. His little brothers; they all came from grief, born and bred.

Jason had crept through after Dick thought he had nothing left to fight for, when he instead fought everything as if it would repair the loss.

Robin replaced Robin. Dick learned to grow around the loss and gave it new life instead.

Tim was the one nobody thought to worry about, the anomaly, the one who bypassed the firewalls in the midst of the crisis. Broke down faulty systems, repaired them, forced his way through the cracks that Dick couldn’t find it in himself to caulk.

Robin replaced Robin. Dick learned to grieve the present and appreciate it at the same time.

But nobody had expected Damian. When he crash-landed in like a jet on fire, it was like the ground underneath them went uneven, and he continued to break their expectations with every step he took.

Robin replaced Robin. This time, Dick learned a lot of things. He learned what it was like to have a Robin.

He learned the weight of holding a sleeping kid on his chest, how he would do anything to keep him looking that peaceful. He learned to keep an ear out at night, to keep his door unlocked in case there was a nightmare, in case he was needed.

He learned how it felt to have a piece of his heart living outside of his body— and, like anybody, Dick didn’t like it when his heart was broken.

“Everybody dies, Damian,” Dick said carefully. “I really hope you won't hate me, when I do go.”

He exhaled, watching as Damian wiped away more of his angry tears.

“But,” he continued. “I’m not dying today, or hopefully anytime soon. I’m here, just like I said I’d be, and… I’d rather not spend the rest of my long life with someone that I love so much being angry at me.”

Damian shifted in his chair, like he was ready to bolt at any moment. Despite his best efforts, his bottom lip quivered and his scowl was starting to falter.

“I hope you can forgive me,” Dick said quietly, the words cracking at the end. He cleared his throat, ignoring the burning at his eyes. “I’m sorry that I scared you. Next time, I’ll—“

Damian stood up promptly and marched forward, his face properly scrunched up to avoid tears. He crossed the room in three steps, and by the third step his resolve had fully broken.

Watching Damian cry was like watching the world tear itself apart. He’s twelve years old and had the same rocky edges of the mountains he’d been forced to climb, had the same ferocity as the currents he’d been forced to swim against, had the same chill as the tundras he’d survived.

He held onto so much, so much; all before he’d barely started to carve out a spot in life big enough for him to stand in. It was hard work. It only ever got harder.

Dick would reshape the earth in his own hands if it meant the land would soothe the old aches and reset the broken bones. He’d take every hurt and every pain and he would do it smiling if it meant his little brothers never saw an inch of it.

But he couldn’t do that. Instead he had to be content with letting his arms open, and trusting that Damian would crawl up into them. That would be their peace.

Damian wept, broken little sounds choking their way through his tears. He buried his head into Dick’s abdomen and kept his arms curled up to his sides.

“Oh, Damian. Băiatul meu dulce,” Dick soothed, hushing his voice to a murmur. His heart was bleeding, a messy thing in the cage of his chest, and he quieted it down, too. “You’ve got me, Dami. I’m okay now. I’m okay.”

He pressed a kiss to his baby brother’s head and tried not to let himself lose the last semblance of emotional control he had as Damian’s cries racked through his small frame.

“This is your fault,” Damian stuttered through tears. “I’m still mad at you. Just... don’t leave.”

“I know.” He kept his hands busy by drawing circles over Damian’s back. He took deliberately slow breaths and rocked gently back and forth. “I’m right here, honey. You can be as mad as you want, I’m not going anywhere.”

And then words dwindled into nothing, because sometimes the silence was better. He pressed his nose into Damian’s hair, kept himself close. His hands worked their soft rhythm on his back, continuing even as Damian’s breathing slowed to a calmer pace.

His chest and upper stomach was soaked in salt and he didn’t give a damn about it.

After a few minutes of quiet sniffling and the sound of a hand smoothing down the wrinkles of a fleece shirt, Damian huffed. He kept his face hidden as he spoke.

“Emotions,” he said tentatively, drained of energy, “are exhausting, and embarrassing.”

Dick smiled shortly. A rush of relief passed over him, because talking was good. Talking meant he hadn’t truly ruined everything.

He passed his fingers past Damian’s forehead, carefully folding loose strands of hair away from his eyes. “Get some sleep then. It’s early, nobody will be up for a while.”

Damian was quiet for a few moments, considering. He exhaled. “You’ll wake me if—“

“You know I will,” Dick assured him softly. “Just your eyes, baby bat.”

Damian made an aggrieved noise, but made himself small while he settled into the cot.

His baby brother fell asleep in two short minutes— and a piece of Dick’s soul clicked back where it belonged.

Getting out of the medical bay was always a victory. His consistent visitors had been Damian and Alfred— while Batman and Red Robin had picked up slack on patrol, which was reasonable. Dick watched from cameras and would give occasional commentary through the comms with O.

(Jason, he hadn’t seen anywhere.)

Since the toxin, Dick had been trying to get himself back to normal. He wanted to let the memories wash away to the back of his mind where they usually were, instead of lingering on the forefront like a bad breakup.

For him, getting back to normal meant doing normal things— or, as normal as it could get. He sat on communications and bothered Bruce with his puns. He helped Alfred collect laundry. He watched animal documentaries with Damian. He practiced defense in the training room. He bothered Bruce some more.

He finally caught Tim in the kitchen, falling asleep into a bowl of cereal— bits of soggy cheerios stuck to his cheek and his hair saturated in almond milk.

Dick smiled to himself and then knocked his knuckles on the counter.

Tim lifted his head and looked up with an amount of unconcern that was almost impressive for someone who had almost drowned in their (12pm) breakfast.

“Dick,” he said, blinking a few times. “You’re out of the medbay?”

“Second day out,” Dick informed, giving a sympathetic smile. He yanked off a paper towel from the roll and wiped the milk and cereal off of Tim’s face.

“Oh.” Tim’s eyebrows furrowed, frowning imperceptibly. “…Nobody told me.”

Dick made a noise of disapproval and grabbed his own bowl from the cabinets. He sat down beside Tim and poured the cereal in. “I would have been in there a lot longer if you hadn’t figured out the antidote. So, thank you.”

“You would’ve been dead, actually,” Tim corrected, stirring soggy cereal around with his spoon. “And it’s fine. It’s what I’m here for.”

Dick frowned into his own bowl and poured in the milk. “Right. I actually wanted to talk to you about that, when you had a second. That must have been pretty stressful for you, I wanted to see if you were doing okay.”

“I see you’re at the getting-to-normal stage,” Tim observed, glancing over. “I know you probably already talked to B. Definitely talked to Demon Brat, because he’s less Demon than a few days ago. Jason’s next, right?”

Dick looked up to reply, and then paused.

Tim’s face was of its usual paleness, the normal dark purple shadows painted under his eyes. He knew about Tim’s bad working habits, his insomnia, but seriously— when was the last time this boy got any sleep?

“Why can’t you be next?” Dick asked instead.

Tim scoffed, his lip lifting up in a half-smile like something was amusing to him. He shook his head. “I think you could probably find Jason in—“

“I’m serious,” Dick interrupted. He set his spoon down in the bowl, letting it clink. “You’re my brother too, Tim.”

“Sure,” Tim said with a nod. “It’s just, you know. You have to add a ‘too’, don’t you? Implying there’s an original to be added to. Which is fine, seriously. I don’t know. I’m not offended or anything— you don’t have to lie to make me feel better about something that doesn’t affect me anymore.”

Dick stared, his jaw loosely hung open as he tried to fumble together the pieces of what Tim just splayed out.

“Tim, I—“ He shook his head, feeling slightly hysterical. “Explain that again?”

Tim huffed a laugh. He pushed his bowl away from him. “We don’t have to do this, Dick. Seriously. Whatever it is, I forgive you, we don’t have to make it this big thing.”

“Tim,” Dick said sharply. Tim straightened, his tired smile gone in an instant, his eyes alert, and Dick felt a wave of regret hit him. He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. I shouldn’t have. I just— I need you to explain. Please.”

Tim frowned and pushed his hair out of his face. “I don’t know how to explain this without you getting pissed at me. Or you.”

“Start from the beginning,” Dick said tightly, his eyes still shut. Images of blood on tile and a little boy at his doorstep kept fading in and out of view.

“My beginning, or yours?” Tim asked, a lilt of a joke on his tongue.

“When we met,” Dick answered, not understanding the question. When was the beginning not just the beginning?

“We met at—“ Tim paused. He looked over Dick with something calculative in his eyes, and his lips twitched before his entire body went still, eerily calm. “We met at your apartment. You remember. I knocked on your door until you let me in. My hands hurt.”

“And?” Dick asked painfully.

“And what? And you hated me,” Tim said, laughing grimly. “You hated that I asked you to come back to Gotham, and then you hated when I became a Robin.”

Both true, but the reasoning of it was all wrong. Dick’s face must have contorted in a truly horrifying way, because Tim quickly put his hands up.

“Hold on, I’m not saying you hate me now,” Tim explained. “I know that’s not true. Don’t worry. But I also know that we don’t have any kind of bond, right? You and Jason were special. You were the blueprint, Jason was the one to make the pattern… And I mean, he’s right, isn’t he? I was the replacement. You were even the one to decide when I wasn’t needed anymore, because then you gave the role to Damian, and he was your Robin.”

Tim finished, and slumped back in his chair with a shrug. “So, it’s fine. I know I’m important to you. I’m just not at the top of the list. I made my peace with that a long time ago, it’s not a big deal.”

He felt sick.

Dick got up from the counter and walked to the other side of the kitchen, bending over the sink, and just standing there. His hands gripped onto the porcelain edges. He kept his eyes trained on the water that dripped from the faucet.

“Dick?” Tim called out from behind him. “Shit. I’m sorry, I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. None of this is your fault, really—“

There were a lot of questions running through his head, and he felt dizzy from the guilt racking over him in waves. He turned the faucet on to its coldest setting and splashed the water on his face.

He turned around and Tim was behind him, his eyes intense with concern, his eyebrows furrowed, his shoulders up to his ears like he was ready for a war.

“Should I get Bruce? Alfred?” Tim asked carefully. “If you don’t answer, I’m getting them both, so choose wisely.”

Dick shook his head. He kept shaking his head. There was so much he needed to fix, he wasn’t sure where to even start.

“Can I hug you?”

Tim blinked. He looked him over quickly, like he was scanning for injuries. Seemingly satisfied, he gave him a very confused: “Yes?”

Dick pulled him in by the shoulders and hugged him as if it were the first time.

The more he thought about it, he actually couldn’t remember the last time that he hugged Tim. Tim always seemed to shy away from physical affection, seemed to stiffen up, so Dick had always tried to respect that.

But in the few seconds that Dick didn’t pull away, something different happened. The stiffness of Tim’s shoulders slowly eased away. He exhaled softly, and seemed to melt into touch. Hesitantly, his arms lifted to hug him back.

Dick tightened his hold and grieved every time he hadn’t been more patient, every time he hadn’t given Tim just a few seconds.

“You’re my little brother,” Dick said firmly. “No ‘too.’ I’ll make it up to you. All of it.”

“Why?” Tim mumbled.

“Because,” Dick laughed brokenly. “You thinking that you don’t mean everything to me, just like Jason and Damian do, kills me. I don’t know how I let it go on this long— but it’s done. It’s getting fixed.”

Tim was quiet for a long moment. “But I don’t know how to fix it,” he said anxiously. He pulled away, staring at Dick with those blue eyes.

The same blue eyes as before, the ones peering at him from across a dingy living room, the ones staring blearily from a blood-smeared hallway, both saying: I’m trying to pick up the pieces. There’s too many for me to hold.

His little brother: and it’s about time Dick acted like it.

“Tim.” Dick looked back at him seriously, his hands on Tim’s shoulders. “This one isn’t for you to fix, baby bird. This is my screw-up. And it looks like we’ve got a lot to talk about.”

Tim stared at him, nodded surely, and ducked back in for another hug. He’d never done that before.

Another piece of his soul moved. It wasn’t fixed, but it was healing from something he hadn’t known was broken— and he thought it would be okay.

A week, and he still couldn’t find Jason.

As it turned out, nobody had really looked. He’d been entirely radio silent since Dick’s encounter with fear toxin had been resolved with a synthesized antidote, and nobody had thought to bother him since.

Dick had been texting Babs consistently with questions of whether Jason was alright, and she’d always just sent him a simple message describing that he was safe and checking in with her on his patrol routes. Which meant he’d only been avoiding the family comms. Which meant something was wrong.

In the end, it was Alfred who had finally given him a tip. Polishing dishes with a fresh cloth, his lips pursed, he seemed to be contemplating a variety of decisions and their determined effects.

“I know he needs his space,” Dick explained, taking each plate as Alfred dried them to stack them away in the proper cabinet. “But I just have this terrible gut feeling that he’s overthinking something and that it’s my fault. Arguing is the last thing I want to do, I’m just…”

“Worried,” Alfred finished for him after a few helpless seconds. He sighed softly, setting the cloth down on the counter. “Yes. I figured as much. My hesitancy is not with your capacity to handle these things with care, Master Dick. I know you care for your brother a great deal.”

Dick frowned, leaning backwards. “What’s your hesitancy?”

Alfred met him with solemn eyes, effectively pinning him where he stood “My hesitancy is your unwavering willingness to fix things before you’re ready to fix them. You’ve been through a great deal this week, and I’m very familiar with how these particular experiences take a toll on you. Do you think you’re ready to speak with him?”

Whatever Dick had expected, this had been the last on the list. He floundered, taking in the words, and then looked down thoughtfully at his hands.

“I think,” he said after a moment, “letting this linger is hurting me more than talking about it will. I need to talk to him, Alfred. I need him to know how much this matters.”

It was apparently the right answer.

When Jason didn’t want to be found, there wasn’t much to be done about it. Crime Alley was only a small part of Gotham, but also the most dense in shadow– and if there was anything a bat could do, it would be to disappear where the light wasn’t.

With Alfred’s tip though, he found Jason in thirty minutes. The roof of a mom and pop ice-cream parlor, tucked into a city street corner between a laundromat and a piercing place. He’s a looming shadow against an air conditioning unit, and there’s a flickering glow of light coming from the cigarette between his fingertips.

Dick landed behind him, his feet soft on the asphalt. “Didn’t you quit?”

The shadow didn’t respond at first, exhaling a slow plume of smoke. “Only on good days.”

Dick walked up, standing beside his brother so they were shoulder to shoulder. Jason offered the box, and Dick silently shook his head. He put the box back in his pocket without so much as a shrug.

“The hell are you doing here, Dickface?” Jason asked. He sounded tired. “Figured the big man wouldn’t have let you leave the house in costume for another week.”

“Well, what B doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Jason grunted noncommittally.

Dick glanced at him through his peripheral, his mouth twisting in thoughtful complication. He thought up different ways to start a conversation. He discarded each one.

It didn’t use to be like this. Dick remembered. He remembered nudging his little brother to get him to talk, taking him out of the house– seeing his little brother’s stomping grounds, taking him to old restaurants and parks that Jason never wanted to ask Bruce about– as often as he could. Not often enough.

It used to be so easy, like it was part of him– and maybe it had been part of him. It just happened to be the part that had died with Jason.

Dick laughed bitterly, running a hand through his hair. “Shit, Jay. I used to be better at this, didn’t I?”

“If that’s what you want to believe,” Jason said bluntly.

Dick shoved their shoulders together. “Come on, I’m being serious. This wasn’t always so bad, was it?”

Maybe his voice was strained. Maybe his pleading was too obvious. Maybe he shouldn’t even be asking Jason this at all— it wasn’t his fault that Dick was so miserable at being the big brother. Jason shouldn’t have to comfort him about his failures.

It was just—

He just—

“No,” Jason said after a moment. “It wasn’t.”

The relief was painful. It was hard knowing, truly knowing, that there was something so important to improve upon. That somewhere along the way, he had fallen so far from his standard.

Dick rubbed a hand over his chest, right over his heart. He pressed deep into the muscle, hard enough to feel the bone underneath. His throat felt heavy. He opened his mouth to let out an apology, but—

“Sorry,” Jason said first, his voice gruff. He kept his eyes trained on the street. His fingers fiddled around the cigarette as it burned and cinders flicked to his boots.

Dick quickly looked up at him. “Sorry?”

“Yes,” Jason gritted out. “I know that’s not what you expected to hear because you don’t give a shit about yourself, but I’m sorry. I’ll stay in my own lane from now on, you don’t need to fake it anymore.”

Dick leaned back, furrowing his eyebrows as sudden bouts of defensiveness coursed through his head. Jason leaving was the last thing he wanted, for the rest of time.

“Jason, what the hell are you talking about?” Dick strangled himself for words. He started pacing across the rooftop, tugging at his hair again. “Fuck, do all of my baby brothers think I just want them gone?”

“That’s the thing, Dick,” Jason said back, his words sharper than his knives. “I don’t even think you realize it. I think you’re just so good at ignoring your own bullshit that you don’t see how much you’re still fucking terrified of me.”

Dick stalled. He slowly turned around, his hands falling from his hair.

“Is that what this is?” Dick asked, pressing forward. “You think I’m scared of you?”

“No need to get theatrical. I’m not blaming you,” Jason rolled his eyes, finally flicking the cigarette to the floor. “I’m violent, I don’t play nice. I nearly fucking killed Tim, that alone is enough to cement a piss-poor relationship. I’m not the little kid you used to take out for fuckin’ milkshakes anymore.”

Dick bit down on his tongue, watching the way Jason stumbled over his next few words. He crushed the cigarette under his boot and pulled out a new one from his pack, holding it unlit in his hands.

“I thought we’d resolved it,” Jason admitted finally. He looked up at Dick with his lips pulled into a tight smile. “Or that, at least, you didn’t totally fucking abhor me anymore? I don’t know. Whatever, it doesn’t matter. I fucked up. I’m still fucking up. I’m still atoning. I know that now. So, I say again, genuinely. I’m sorry.”

Dick stared at him for a long moment, feeling fire in his blood. An uncomfortable heat in his head that made him sick from pressure, a volcano that didn’t know where to burst from. He took a steadying breath and shut his eyes.

“Sit down,” he said.

Jason scoffed. “What?”

“Sit down,” Dick said again, and slumped next to him on the floor. He extended his legs out and leaned back on his palms. “Please.”

Jason slowly crouched down to join him. He leaned his back against the air conditioning unit again. There was a tenseness to him, his jaw set in a firm line. He wouldn't hesitate to start fighting again, if the conversation called for it.

They sat quietly while Dick put his thoughts in order, Jason fidgeting in an obvious discomfort.

“When I got hit with the toxin, I saw the circus,” Dick said. “Damian and I were on the trapeze.”

Dick had told him once, about the circus. Had showed him the pictures of his parents, had told him why Bruce really adopted him. Told him about Zucco. About Robin. About all of it. Jason knew what it all meant to him. He knew.

Jason’s gaze dropped to the floor, and he sighed heavily. “Shit. You don’t have to—“

“Damian fell. I caught him, but it wasn’t enough,” Dick continued, growing louder over Jason’s interruptions. “He was bleeding, he had a concussion, it was bad. That was when you showed up to help. And you took him, you asked what happened. You figured out I hadn’t saved him, and you said that—“

His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, determined to continue. “You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. That’s why it hurt so much.”

“You weren’t hurt. You were terrified, Dickie,” Jason said lowly, looking at him with haunted eyes. “What the hell could I have said to make you so fucking scared?”

Dick hesitated, letting a shiver run over him as he thought back to the hallucination. He made a complicated sound. “That's not the point, though, is it? You don’t really want to know that.”

“No,” Jason decided quietly. “No, I guess I don’t.”

“The point is,” Dick leaned forward, looking right at him. Making himself as clear as he could be. “I was never afraid of you.”

“You should be,” Jason croaked weakly. “I’m no good. I always have been.”

“No, Jay,” Dick shook his head vehemently and lightly nudged his side. “You’ve always been good. Always. More than good, even. Magic.”

Jason barked out a wet laugh, covering his eyes with his hand. “I said it one time. You’re such an asshole.”

“But it’s true,” Dick smiled, his eyes bleary. “From way back when you were all bony elbows and small enough for me to haul over my shoulder, you’ve been magic. You made me who I am, Jason. We have quite the big crew now, but you’ll always be the one who made me a big brother. Once upon a time it was just the two of us. That means something.”

“I ruined you,” Jason argued roughly, his voice cracking up faster than he can repair it. He swallowed. “You said it yourself, all this shit used to be easier before. I fucked it all up.”

Dick put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “You didn’t fuck it up. I can prove it too: we’re both still here, and against all odds, you’re by my side. That tells me more than anything that we can still salvage this.”

“Do you really want that?” Jason asked dryly.

“Jason, the years I didn’t have you next to me were the worst ones of my life,” Dick said, the humor leaving him completely. “I didn’t know what to do with myself. It felt like I was always a day away from giving up. Now that I have you back again…”

He trailed off, and they both fell into a silence. Words intoned. Words left unsaid. Jason nudged him with the toe of his boot, a nonverbal sign of acknowledgement. A physical sign that he was still there. Dick nodded once, and Jason looked away.

“You know,” Dick said after a moment. “I actually think I have something that can fix this.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” Jason sniffed, cocking his head to the side. His eyes red-rimmed, but focused. “D’you got emotional superglue in that fucking utility belt?”

“Close,” Dick said, and wiped his face of all tears. He pulled out his wallet, and held up a twenty dollar bill. “I have it on good authority that milkshakes fix everything.”

Jason let out a heavy sigh, staring at the money in hand. “Well, shit. When you put it like that…”

Dick wiggled his eyebrows, and Jason cracked an indulgent smile.

Just like that, it became easy again. A familiar song played on rusty strings. Their eyes still red, their voices still raw— they hauled themselves up by eachother’s arms and started again.

As they bump shoulders on their way through the front door, the last piece of his soul jostled into its rightful place.

"Little Wing, you know I love you, right?" Dick asked, stirring his milkshake aimlessly with a frosted metal straw.

Jason looked up the crummy diner table and stared for a long moment, before relenting.

"Yeah," he said easily. He had chocolate on the corners of his mouth, just like a little kid, like nothing had ever changed at all. "I know, Dickie."

Dick smiled and nodded to himself.

Yes, every piece of his soul where it should be. Even if cracked and dented in odd places, they were all there. Finally, he felt like the world was righted.

[enden-agolor]

you CANNOT just post that and not tell us the back story

Oh boy okay here we go

randy x andy lore 🙈

I'll just post the context of the comic with a bit of lore and backstory.

So I already stated that Andy and I have been friends since 6th grade. I think that's about 16 years of knowing each other now? Well, friendship was kind of a struggle for me because of uh.. my home situation. The thought of having people over was very frightening and embarrassing, but Andy never really judged me or let any of that stuff get in the way of us being friends, but regardless, I almost always spent the night at his place whenever we would hang out. I'd walk about three miles to his place almost every weekend because he was only a few neighborhoods away. Anyways, so we had a lot of sleepovers and most of the time I would sleep on the floor in his room which like. Cool. Not gay. Whatever.

Well. I recall a discussion we had when we were about 13 (I think this was in 2010 or 2011) on facebook where we were just talking about personal stuff and I confessed I'd never really experienced any positive physical affection before? Nothing of note came out of that conversation, but apparently Andy remembered that.

Next time I went to his place for a sleepover, it felt no different than any other time we'd hang out. Playing video games or watching youtube or just hanging out outside. Well come bed time I remember going with him to his room and.. In a random change of events, he told me to get in the bed. I remember being hella confused and hesitant but I did and ended up just laying there awkwardly, him kinda laughing and telling me to turn around and scoot over, again my dumbass was really awkward about it. He shut off the light and crawled into bed after me and without saying ANYTHING just wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. It's been well over a decade since this happened and I still remember the shock and confusion. I remember full body trembling and tensing and trying to control it because I just did not know how to react. And he'd asked if I was okay and I just responded with a stuttered "yeah." He ends up falling asleep like that and when I tell you I stayed up all night staring at the wall next to me and just. Experiencing that feeling of being held for the first time it was extraordinary.

It became a constant need after that but because I was afraid of being gay and uh. Also am just very shy in general. I would never ask for it and would instead just hope it would happen again which.. it did. And then my emotions kinda spiraled and it was very easy to fall for him.

But yeah Andy made me gay and I never dated anyone else before because I saved myself for him for many years after that happened. Just constantly cuddling as friends. I seriously can't ever imagine being with anyone else. He is kind of cool idk

[dootznbootz]

As someone who is also really uncomfortable with the Zeus/Odysseus art trend, I completely understand where your coming from!

People’s treatment of Odysseus’s assaults in general makes me really upset. Just the other day I saw a comment on a post saying that “Odysseus wasn’t loyal to his wife yet expects her to be loyal to him” and not once in the replies did I see someone mention that he was literally assaulted. It’s absolutely gross and makes me hesitant to go deeper into the fandom.

I remember being so frustrated when the snippets of “There are Other Ways” came out because so many people were making Hamilton jokes and talking about how he always talks about his wife yet cheated. When in the song it was so clear he was being coerced which is yknow, not a form of consent. I couldn’t even listen to it because it made me so uncomfortable, and even now with the full version out the fandoms reaction to it overall have soured me to it. Which sucks, because I do think it’s a great song.

Also I don’t even think Epic completely erases Calypso’s assault? At least, I think it’s left ambiguous enough during the time jump that people can come to their own conclusions. Specifically when Calypso says “Soon into bed we’ll climb and spend our time” just really gives me the impression that something else happened.

I suppose in the snippets we’ve seen of “I’m Not Sorry For Loving You” it seems like Odysseus and Calypso are on slightly friendlier terms, but I don’t think that negates the fact she could’ve assaulted him. And I’ve always took that song as pretty manipulative on Calypso’s side, with Odysseus more so trying to placate her. But that’s going into theory territory.

And even if he isn’t SA’d in Epic it’s pretty clear he doesn’t want to be there!! Same with Homer’s Odyssey. It’s so infuriating to see the cheating narrative be so widely spread when that is just not what happened.

Anyway’s sorry for the long rant, but I wanted to say that it’s nice to see you take Odysseus’s SA seriously. It’s not something the fandom does enough.

It's okay for the long rant. Sorry I took a bit to get to it but I wanted some "soft chatters" for a bit before I tackled this one :)

"Just the other day I saw a comment on a post saying that “Odysseus wasn’t loyal to his wife yet expects her to be loyal to him” and not once in the replies did I see someone mention that he was literally assaulted. It’s absolutely gross and makes me hesitant to go deeper into the fandom."

I completely understand you with this stuff. ;~; I used to go through Odyssey tags often as I LOVE possibly finding new people to follow and fun things but too many times I would see shit that pissed me off. ;~; I've honestly kind of just stuck to my mutuals that I trust tbh. And honestly, there's soooo much shit of people just straight up not understanding the context/culture/meaning/etc. of the Epics and just taking it at face value and not understanding the meanings. :/ I'm no expert, but I also have analyzed and researched quite a bit on my own to try and get the full picture. I think in order to truly enjoy the Odyssey, you need to just... really soak shit in, you know?

When Calypso, that lovely goddess,  tried                           to keep me with her in her hollow cave, longing for me to become her husband,                                  or when, in the same way, the cunning witch Aeaean Circe held me in her home filled with a keen desire I’d marry her, they never won the heart here in my chest.

(Book 9, Johnston)

Odysseus tells this to the Phaecians. They are strangers that he will likely never see again and who are isolationists. Therefore his story that he told probably won't be "spread" to others so he can probably say whatever. So he doesn't have to worry about "Penelope hearing a different story than the one he told to her" if people wanna argue about how "Oh well, he didn't tell Penelope about the 'affairs'"(He tells her everything as well btw.)

He could literally say "Oh yeah, I had the time of my life!" but he doesn't because that's not true. Odysseus has no listed concubines, I just literally don't see him as the type of guy who's really into that.

And while yes, he would be devastated if she didn't "stay loyal", he does sound like he'd be understanding. He asks his mother in the Underworld if Penelope had gotten remarried to "the finest of Achaeans". And we all know of Odysseus' words of "when Telemachus has a beard, feel free to remarry". Even when first "rejected" by Penelope in that she didn't hug him when he sat across from her, he was incredibly hurt but asked for a separate bed. He literally could have had it where Penelope takes a different bed and he takes their luxurious/fancy one because he has the rest of the household on his side.

But he DOESN'T!

Because he adores her for fuck's sake!

Funny enough? I have the weird reaction of like, weirdly searching out "Good" animatics as it was a weird reassurance of "yes, people see that it's wrong." as while holy fuck. so many stupid, awful jokes about "Say No to This" in the comments (I have learned to just stay the fuck away from youtube comments on Odysseus shit. :') ) but like, seeing and HEARING how yes, this was fucked, was weirdly really nice for me. yeah, it took a lot of digging but there's a few "There Are Other Ways" that I love. Literally, both are unfinished wips and they're still my favorites. If you can, please give these two a watch and some love for the creator.

This was back before we heard the full song and it's still very good. How he's on guard until she "magics" him and the colors change. After that he kind of moves like a "puppet" but he's still resisting as best he can.

This one is literally still sketches but it's my absolute favorite. Oh my word. The body language, PENELOPE FLASHBACKS!!! Showing cute bits of Penelope's character and how awful this is for him. (Penelope is so cute. She puffs up her cheeks to make him laugh!) How he really is scared that he'll have to go through with this in order to save his friends until all his past trauma floods back and he just can't. It's lovely.

And yeah Idk how to feel about "I'm Not Sorry For Loving You" :/ I don't know how it'll be yet, maybe there's something in another song that shows Odysseus' real feelings or whatever.

And with just the whole cheating thing, yeah, it's really upsetting to call what is blatant assault "cheating". As wild as it sounds, Odysseus' story has been more relatable for me than any other stories like this, even modern ones. I've spoken a bit about it before but yeh, victim blaming at its finest. I find him and his story and his love for Penelope slkdfj very relatable. It's honestly really nice to write about in a sense..

(I'm pasting this from an old post of mine but yeh)

I have never had a story that felt like how it actually FEELS. The "aftermath" and "regaining life". It's hopeful and feels really good. It's been years since "everything" but it just felt nice to see "Everybody has the chance to get better." Even Nestor, Helen, and Menelaus, while still dealing with their traumas, are doing a lot better now. And after literal hell, Odysseus got to be with his family and loved ones again. He can start living again. It's why I'm just...idk passionate about this? I'm not a murderer or a war veteran but I see myself in him. Hopefully, y'all see me as nicer though!😂(plus, let's be honest, the Odyssey is romantic af and OdyPen is right up my alley as well >:D )

I really hate the whole "he's a guy so therefore ____" whether it's used as a "Boys will be boys. they can't help themselves" usually aimed at female victims or a "Men always want sex. they cannot be victims.". It's fucked up and used against ALL of us. :( Doesn't matter if it was history. People, no matter the era, should never be put through "Are you Victim™ enough?". He is one.

Idk the Odyssey means a lot to me. I hope it's okay I take some liberties with my fanfics as it's nice healing through him :D I AM kind of using my own experiences and ideas and it feels nice. I don't think Homer necessarily meant for this but eh, anything that helps is good :D He's a war criminal that I relate to.

[crystallizsch]

really weird ramble but uhhh i’m really tempted to go somewhat multifandom with this blog ;;;

idk why i’m so hesitant since the other fandoms i wanna yell about seem to have some overlap with twst fans here and there 😭

i COULD do another side blog but that is too much work 😔

“post whatever you want it’s your blog” but >:[ …

anyways. posting this just a heads up in case i do randomly post anything other than twst one day