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le-amewzing · 2 years

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all hope is (not) lost

Considering very few things went the girls' way this ep, I decided to fix that. :3c *Note: This is set after s1e14, "Vials and Tribulations."

Fic: "all hope is (not) lost" [FFN] [AO3]

Pairings/Characters: pre?onesided?Amy Madden/Hartley, Amy & Jake Madden, with cameos from Eva Madden, Vic Madden, & Colby Madden

Rating: K

Words: ~2,920

Additional info: romance, friendship, 3rd person POV

Summary: Amy tries to recreate the concert vibes she and Hartley missed out on, with several (selfish and not) purposes in mind.

The moment she clicks "BUY NOW!" Amy is filled with a mixture of elation and resentment.

Elation, because her plan is one step closer to being real.

Resentment, because she's paid money for these tickets, when the villain in her screams that she ought to have stolen the tickets somehow…or nicked the money off Mr. Tennyson to pay for them. It would serve him right for ruining the girls' original plans in the first place.

But, Amy supposes as she exits the venue's website and pulls up her text history with a certain cheery Sunshine Club member, paying for concert tickets instead of stealing them is yet another way Hartley's rubbing off on her. …ugh, is Amy going soft? The mere idea makes her shudder. Nevertheless, her thumbs fly over her keyboard:

-Guess what?

Those annoying three dots appear while Hartley types. Then her reply pops up a moment later:

-You already finished tomorrow's English composition?

Cheeky. Nice. Good to see Amy's snark is finding a home with Hartley if Hartley insists on turning her into a respectable citizen. Amy smirks proudly and types back:

-We're going to see Fuchsia.

This time, no three dots appear. One minute passes, then two. Still nothing.

…huh. Well, that didn't go as planned. Hartley's one to get absorbed in her assignments, sure, but ignoring Amy's text? Ignoring a text about their favorite singer? Amy gives up after three minutes of silence, tossing her phone beside her on her comforter and flopping backwards on her bed. All that elation for nothing. Boredom threatens to interrupt her evening, making even her homework start to look like fun—

The sudden thunder of footsteps racing upstairs interrupts Amy's wallowing, though, and the footfall screeches to a halt outside her bedroom door long enough to pant (ew) and knock (how, ugh, polite).

Amy props herself up on her elbows and quirks one wary eyebrow at her door. "Hartley?" she calls out.

Her neighbor takes that as invitation and all but throws the door open. Hartley is, of course, out of breath, and she's got a sticky note adhered to her left shoulder. But her eyes are as gigantic as her smile. "Please tell me that wasn't autocorrect," she blurts, half laughing.

Amy smirks. "The only thing autocorrect did to my message was swap the s and the c in her name—I'll never spell it right on the first try to save my life."

Hartley squeals with joy—a piercing note, and Amy's supposed to be the one with vocal superpowers—and half dives across the room, jumping onto the free space beside Amy and resting on her haunches. Hartley lifts her shoulders in her excitement, notices and picks off the sticky note, and looks at Amy. "But—how the heck did you manage it? I thought Fuchsia wasn't going to be local again anytime soon on this tour. Not after the show Mr. Tennyson went to." Her face falls in her confusion, and her shoulders begin to droop.

But Amy sits up and grabs Hartley's nearer hand. "Look, it's not us going in-person to see her, because you're right."

Hartley furrows her brow.

"I got us virtual passes for the livestream of the next stop on her tour."

Hartley's mouth pops open in a large "O."

"I thought…next best thing, right?"

Those big, brown eyes impossibly widen.

Amy twists her lips around, at a loss as to what to do with this Hartley. This is like those three dots come to life. "Hart?"

The next thing she knows, all Amy sees is that big bush of dark ringlets, because Hartley throws her arms around the villain's neck and hugs her, tight. "Holy heck—that's amazing!"

It's cute that she doesn't swear, but Amy doesn't quite have the bravado to smirk right now, not with her best friend this close. She hugs her back, briefly, and then blinks away her stupor and pulls away. She gestures to where her laptop sits on her desk across the room. "Glad you think so. Because the livestream is this Saturday night, and I thought we'd make a night of it here."

"It's a date," Hartley chirps. No hesitation. No tripping over her words. (No hint of that bumbling behavior she has around that sketchy dude, Declan.)

But Amy nods and gives in to one of Hartley's pinky promises, her smirk replaced by a weak smile. "Yeah, yeah…it is."

Come Saturday, Amy catches her reflection in the mirror and chooses to wear anything but that weak smile. She will not let anything or anyone ruin tonight.

And that includes her very own family.

Amy decides to bring up her sleepover with Hartley at breakfast, when everyone aside from Jake is groggy and easy to strong-arm. "Listen up, people—I need you gone between the hours of eight and ten tonight."

Her mother snorts while her father scratches his head as if he missed something on the calendar. "Big plans tonight, then?"

Amy meets Eva's gaze head on and doesn't even blink. "Girls' night with Hartley," she fibs, downplaying tonight's importance, "and I don't want to be interrupted."

Eva shrugs. "Can't anyway. They've kept me at the Round-Up so far…and I best not jinx that," she adds begrudgingly, though she tacks on that last part with a withering look at Jake that's somehow grateful at the same time. Impressive.

But Amy zeroes in on Vic. "Dad? Plans?" she pushes.

"By 'gone,' you mean 'out of the house'?"

"Yep."

"And the secret lair isn't technically part of the house…" Vic raises his eyebrows like a kid wheedling a "yes" or "fine already" from his parent.

So Amy caves, because she knows her dad's really got no better place to be on a Saturday night. She rolls her eyes in response…but at least there's the backup option of locking him down there if she has to. Now there's an idea. Speaking of which—she glances at Colby next.

The poor kid sweats under the weight of her stare. "Uh. I will. Not be here?"

"As in, not present, Colby. Not just invisible and pretending you made yourself scarce."

Colby might have a bunch of powers and new ones keep cropping up every time they turn around, but there's still something to be said about the power of being the scary big sister. He nods twice and crams cereal into his mouth. "Gotcha," he says with his mouth full. Ew.

And last and certainly least, Amy faces Jake. But he's the only one smiling throughout this whole family meal. That throws her off-balance. "What?"

Jake shakes his head, chuckling to himself. "…nah, nothing. You know Mom's working, and so will I. So that's everyone."

"And, Colby," Eva pipes up, "if you're really good at staying invisible, you could come to the restaurant and I could toss you some scraps from the kitchen."

That catches Jake's attention. "Mom, no."

"Why not? It means less cleaning at the end of the day."

Conversation devolves further at that point, but Amy's mostly satisfied when she finishes her food and heads upstairs to start prepping her room. …the only problem is that she's got company on the stairwell. She turns on the second-floor landing and huffs at her older brother. "What, Jake?"

He shrugs but doesn't shoulder his way past her to reach his room. "I find it interesting, how adamant you were at breakfast just now."

"Yeah. So?"

"Months ago, you used to say you could only take Hartley in small doses. Now you actually call her your best friend. And you invited her to stay over?"

She almost blurts the truth—that it's a special occasion, for just the two of them—but she catches herself in time. Jake doesn't get to and doesn't need to know that Amy had high hopes for the previous concert…and he doesn't need to know that she's tempered her expectations for tonight either. But she'll still do everything in her (regular) power to make it a memorable night…hopefully for the better.

And maybe, just maybe, Jake understands a little or picks up on his sister's—fear? (no, Havoc doesn't get scared…so Amy Madden doesn't either)…hesitation and nods. He exhales and bumps shoulders with her as he passes by, but the gesture is oddly supportive. "Interesting," he says once more.

"It's just a concert," Amy blabs, immediately wanting to kick herself. But she continues when Jake glances back, "…for that singer she and I both like." Is it just her, or does her voice sound too quiet, like when they were little kids and their powers hadn't come in yet?

Jake genuinely smiles this time with his nod. "Good luck with watching it tonight, Amy," he says, as if he really means it.

And, though she'd never admit it, Amy smiles to herself, happy to take any luck or positive vibes she can get right now.

Whiling away the rest of Saturday with no one else around to torment while she waits for Hartley to arrive that evening is incredibly boring. But it gives Amy time enough to rearrange her room twice, to rummage through her closet more than a dozen times (enough to tire of the activity), to contemplate future interactions with Starling which she'll no doubt win (or at least where she'll have the last word), and to order early the pizzas the girls will be chowing down on throughout the night.

The pizzas arrive five minutes before Hartley does, which is fifteen minutes before the concert proper starts, while the opening artist gets Fuchsia's crowd warmed up. Hartley enters the Madden home unannounced, as if she and not her grandmother owns the place, and smiles when she meets Amy in the kitchen with the food. "Ohh, perfect! I'm starving."

Amy chuckles. "Then grab a box and we'll move this party upstairs."

Hartley all but prances behind her, but she calms down once they enter Amy's room. Hartley descends on the soda Amy brought up earlier and is halfway through her second slice before she unzips her hoodie to unveil her Fuchsia-branded shirt. "Are we celebrating this occasion properly?" she asks.

"Well, duh." Amy reaches for the t-shirt she left on her bed, to don after she's put away the pizza as well as any chance of getting red sauce on her. Plus—Amy hits the lights, and the string of fairy lights she has hanging over the corkboard behind her laptop glows a soft magenta. "And these arrived just in time, too," she finishes, digging out a pair of wand lights and passing one to Hartley before sitting back down on the floor with her friend to continue dinner.

Hartley laughs in utter amazement. "You really meant it when you called it the 'next best thing.'"

"Eh, can I deliver or can I deliver?"

They put away the first pizza and drain half the first liter of soda when the crowd begins to chant Fuchsia's name. That's Amy's and Hartley's signal to shove their trash out of the way, grab a wand light each, and get on their feet. Hartley, at the last second, produces a set of magenta-colored, heart-shaped doodle-boppers, but Amy quickly turns down the offer to wear them. Hartley shrugs and yanks the headband on, but the bouncing hearts are only emphasized by how she styled her hair in bubble tails tonight. The overall look is very Hartley.

The livestream does an excellent job of emphasizing the crowd's thirst for Fuchsia. The people present chant her name, and Amy and Hartley scream along with them, and Fuchsia claps to the two syllables, leading into the opening song of her first set. It's the title track of her most recent album, and Fuchsia's entire crowd, both virtual and live, have every last word memorized. Thank goodness for microphones and Fuchsia's windpipes—otherwise no one would be able to hear her over her fans.

Fuchsia launches into two more songs immediately after, turning this opening set into a vibrant medley, before pausing for water and asking how everyone's doing tonight.

Hartley squeals and all but jumps up and down beside Amy as the livestream drone camera zooms in on Fuchsia's face and she gives them a little wave, which is a nice, personal touch for anyone who splurged on these tickets.

Fuchsia's next song is one of her more somber pieces with darker, angrier lyrics. If it had an upped pace, it'd be a head-banger for sure, but the fans know the beat and the sea of wand lights moves in time with the songstress' vocals.

Amy's attention is caught by this song as it winds down—Fuchsia's lyrics here, "The time between us was too good to be true," hit a little too close to home, more than she'd like—but then she yanks her eyes to the glow of her desk clock on her nightstand off to the right side of the room. Has half an hour really passed already? Her face falls with the realization that this night could slip through her fingers like sand if she doesn't seize her chance.

"Amy?"

She tears her eyes away from the clock and faces Hartley. Hartley's brow is pinched in confusion, so Amy tries to smile. "Yeah?"

Still a bit confused, Hartley matches her smile nevertheless and links their arms as Fuchsia launches into a peppier tune. She doesn't let Amy go and even has them sort of half dancing in front of the laptop as the concert continues.

It's enough to remind Amy why she mainly did this. Of course she's a Fuchsia fan, but there's nothing like being a Fuchsia fan alongside Hartley and getting to see the singer with Hartley. So maybe there was an ounce of truth in what Jake said…the Amy of several months ago never would've imagined finding Hartley this endearing…but that's yesterday's truth. Today's truth?

Hartley beams up at her, her eyes crinkling and the glowing lights casting a soft warmth over those big brown eyes.

Today's truth is that…Amy imagined them going to that first concert without incident, just the two of them, with no one to complain about the noise and no one they had to kick out of the house. Today's truth is that Amy's got a lot of hope, some of which stems from the notion that Hartley hasn't mentioned Declan in a long while and has been focused only on Amy. Today's truth is that…well…this could be more than friendship, right?

Hartley's ecstatic tonight, sure, and she hums along with the next song to give her voice a rest. One of her bubble tails brushes Amy's shoulder as the girls sway along in time with the music, and she smiles, slowly facing Amy.

Amy blinks—once, twice. She's a villain; she knows an opportunity when she sees it, and this vibe between her and Hartley is good. Amy leans down half an inch and just starts to part her lips…

The roar of the crowd fills the room, snapping her back to her senses.

Amy swivels her head, desperate to focus on the screen even though the concert doesn't register with her right now. No, all she can think about is her failed attempt at a first kiss and getting cold feet at the last second.

Worse still, she wonders what she'd blurt right now if she were still under the effects of her dad's truth gas…and how Hartley would react.

Amy chews on her lower lip for the rest of the first half of the concert, focusing on Fuchsia's music and not on the arm linked with hers. When intermission comes, she breathes a sigh of relief when Hartley ducks out to the bathroom, because Amy knows she's got to get it together! So what that this night hasn't turned out as she hoped, either? At least the night isn't ruined…

…well, she tells herself that. But when she catches her reflection in her mirror when heading downstairs to grab more soda and dish up some ice-cream, Amy notes she's traded in her weak smile for a grumpy one, which is pretty hard to get rid of once it's arrived. Great, just great.

Back upstairs, Amy returns with two dishes and the other liter under her arm. Hartley takes the soda and pats the floor beside her, which at least makes Amy chuckle. "Oh? Done dancing for now?"

"Maybe for the night," Hartley admits. "I have to give Fuchsia credit—leaping around on the stage like that, in full costume and makeup, takes stamina I don't have."

Amy grins, thinking it could be that or the pizza they put away earlier, but she's happy to settle in for the rest of the concert and not be on her feet this way.

And, as it turns out, this livestream setup has its own benefits, too, because after they've finished their dessert, Hartley links her arm with Amy's again, as if she means to dance even while parked. Yet…she doesn't.

Amy sneaks a peek at her.

Hartley links their arms but snakes her hand down to reach for Amy's hand, threading the girls' fingers together. Then she snuggles close, content at Amy's side while her eyes are glued to the screen.

…oh. The night hasn't been ruined, and the night hasn't quite turned out as Amy planned, either, but…maybe this means there will be other opportunities, after all. And that's a thought that plasters a genuine, feel-good smile on Amy's lips for the rest of their weekend.

8D Y'OKAY. SO. This draft was…deffo unlike my others. XD Clearly it's my longest VoVV fic so far, but this one evolved a LOT from my original notes. I thought this might be a two-scene fic and I might do some art. …then I got to writing it and three scenes blossomed and angst threatened to creep in (I beat it back as best I could! X'D), and we have this final version you see before you. :D Granted, I'm still thinking of drawing at least part of this as a comic/comic page, but I gotta find the time for that, oof. But after Hartley did such a good job lying to Tennyson to protect the fam…i.e., her inner villain's starting to show…how could I not write a Hartmy Fuchsia date?? :'D And YOU BET Amy oughta have hope. UGH. Bby gays. Life rly be that tough, tho. TT-TT Also, the Madden fam brekkie scene was the unexpected scene, but it was fun finally getting to write everyone and having Amy intimidate everyone, telling them to scram. XD Eva using Colby as a trashcan, tho…! And Jake. I love Jake. He's empathetic and reads the Hartmy vibes from miles away, same as the rest of us, yo. AHHHH. I could scream all day long, but I just watched s1e16 and I'm still laughing at the perfection of it. :3c (I also have another draft burning a hole in my pocket and I WAS SO TEMPTED TO POST IT BEFORE THIS, but it's not Hartmy and I know most of y'all are thirsting, so yeah. XD) Final musings: Bubble tails on Hartley bc it's a cute style and v fun to draw and also two teens putting away two [implied to be large] pizzas on their own is accurate af. I speak from experience. XD

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

#vovv #villains of valley view #hartmy #amy madden #hartley (vovv)#fanfic #mew writes too much #jake madden #eva madden #vic madden #colby madden

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sarah-dipitous · 1 year

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Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 198

Sharp Teeth/Hide

“Sharp Teeth”

Plot Description: Garth is in the hospital after mutilating a cow and being hit by a car, but Garth runs away — with a dark secret in tow

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: look, if Garth is barely surviving running through the woods, getting shot at, and hit by a car…I don’t know if I have it in me

I forgot that they split up…

Sam…don’t. slap. Garth.

He was HANDCUFFED TO THE BED. HOW DID HE GET UP??

What is this episode??? Garth ran away, stripped down naked, and stole a car. What were you doinggggg???

Dean…why are you lying to Sam again???? You have photos of Garth (not naked…but just boxers. Wouldn’t have taken him for a boxers guy) oof. That’s probably the quickest one of their lies has been found out

Omgggg, Deeeeean stop with this whole “we can’t hunt together because I’m poison” thing. I hope to for that this doesn’t last too much longer

Excuse me?? Does….Garth’s a werewolf now?? And he has a werewolf girlfriend??

MARRIED?!?! He met this girl just after becoming a werewolf and within two months MARRIED HER? They’re…kind of grossly cute together

This is the least cool werewolf pack I’ve ever seen. No one’s even asking anyone where they’ve been, loca

Aww, they cooked the food for Dean. That’s nice

Noooooo, Garrrrrrth. I know you couldn’t know but…don’t bring up Kevinnnn, not to Dean

Wait…the cop is a werewolf TOO?? Uh oh…he’s part of the pack (or was….before Dean threw a silver knife into his chest)

I’m guessing there’s something fishy with Garth’s wife’s stepmother…I think she’s behind the whole dark underbelly of keeping the image of the pack squeaky clean (because this is supernatural and it’s pretty misogynistic)

Oh this is interesting…it’s not a pack, it’s a CULT trying to bring about Ragnarok and also eradicating human beings (whether feeding on or turning them)

Yeah. I knew it wasn’t the reverend who took over this weird group, he was bitten…it has to be his fourth generation werewolf wife whose father was the old reverend

Yeah, this was very predictable. Didn’t know she had a brother who was killed by hunters, but that would make the more recent interest in werewolf dominance more understandable

She really had to get her villain monologue out, ruining any chance she had at pulling off her scheme

Yes, Garth, don’t let Dean think he’s the only one who let Kevin down!! Take some of that weight off his shoulders

I do wish we had gotten just A Kevin and Garth episode (or a Kevin, Mrs Tran, and Garth episode, really)…Garth called Kevin his friend

Please stop pretending that you don’t miss each other.

Dean…I know that’s basically your catch phrase “we’re family” but like…you’ve now betrayed Sam’s trust…probably as badly as he did yours back in season 4

YES, Sam, set that boundary!

“Hide”

Plot Description: something haunts Caliburn House and the Doctor finds himself part of the ghost hunt

It took me just the tiniest bit too long to get the “I’m the doctor” “Doctor what” “if you like” joke

It’s kind of fun that he came here INTENTIONALLY to ghost hunt

Is this just an episode to parallel this ghost hunter dude and his assistant with the Doctor and Clara? Both pairs are flirting so awkwardly, it’s nauseating

I would like to carry a candelabra through an old mansion just ONCE…but no ghosts (my phone tried to autocorrect that to ‘no gojo’ or ‘no ghostfacers’. Brilliant)

You know, just as I was about to say that I was bored, things got interesting, and we’re REALLY digging into these other characters AND the ghost

Omgggg. I hate this. The girls are strictly talking romance while the guys are talking about war and death and guilt….

Oh, Clara. But like….I get where you’re coming from. It IS overwhelming to be able to see the whole life of Earth from the same spot in snippets. Yes, the TARDIS is amazing but…it has the potential to be such an easy way out, such a shortcut for the Doctor instead of taking time. He LITERALLY just takes and takes and takes time, and it feels like he doesn’t care

Well, that certainly isn’t terrifying. You don’t KNOW? You know the ghost you’ve been hunting is actually a time traveler stuck in a pocket dimension but you don’t know the thing she’s running from??

Sure. We’re just going to pop into pocket universes like it’s nothing, now…

I miss when this show was low budget :/

Oh no… he’s stuck there…

My bet’s on the thing being sympathetic. It’s HIDING from the Doctor

Another Clara?? Oh the TARDIS interface thingy. Man, the TARDIS REALLY hates Clara

Please don’t tell me he leaves and Clara gets stuck instead. You can’t do this twice

K. NOT sympathetic, just playing with him

This mansion and its grounds are gorgeous in the daylight

Oh, the monster IS sympathetic I guess?? It was looking for it’s lost love

This episode was really…….weird, and not in the normal cool way

#hellsite nostalgia tour 2023

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misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 4 years

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for @bend-me-shape-me 's SPN advent calendar 2020. prompt: phone calls and late night texts.

Cas isn't a serial texter.

And Dean's a-okay with it.

But for all that's worth, they sure seem to have a ridiculous amount of emotionally significant conversations via, or starting off as, texts. And most often, in the middle of the night.

>>> hello, dean. [12:07 am]

Dean jolts up at the sound, realizing he fell asleep still wearing his headphones, with the laptop on his lap (and a new episode of The Good Place playing) and rolls his eyes at himself, hitting pause before he can see what’s happening (because he has good reflexes, and because screw spoilers that’s why) and rummaging for his phone.

At this hour of the night, it has to be something important.

It doesn’t really strike him that Mechanical Engineering majors whose only other selfprofessed skill is air guitar aren't exactly the frontline warriors for midnight emergencies.

Cas's name shows up when he squints at the too-bright screen, and he sits up a little straighter.

<<< hey [12:09 am]

<<< you OK? [12:09 am]

The response is immediate.

>>> do you have peanut butter? [12:09 am]

And as if it's an afterthought, Cas adds.

>>> yes, I'm fine. how are you? [12:10 am]

Dean blinks.

<<< peachy. peanut butter? [12:10 am]

At least this time the response takes a while. Dean wonders if Cas realized it was midnight, and not exactly a time to run inventory on your best friend's stash of condiments.

>>> I ran out. [12:12 am]

Dean sighs, unable to help smiling.

It's not like he's a stranger to Cas's weird cravings when he's high. (There'd been this one time with pie and a traumatized Gas 'N Sip cashier that still sits heavy on Dean's conscience.) But he doesn't think Cas is supposed to be high right now — Dean's usually either invited or informed by an unspoken rule — which just means this is regular "jelly, not jam"-Cas, at his core a weird, persistently sleep-deprived economics major and astronomy nerd, that Dean may or may not have had a crush on for an embarrassingly long time, and who's also prone to grammatically perfect texting, deadpan, Disney references, and bluntness when the occasion calls for it.

<<< pretty sure i have some [12:14 am]

>>> :) [12:14 am]

>>> I'm coming over [12:14 am]

And weird as it may sound, that had turned out to be the night Cas told him he was gay. Said it had been a revelating moment, unprecedented and wholly unexpected — and apparently revelations come in pairs because it had been followed by an intense need for peanut butter, and the rest, he explained emphatically, was history.

Dean had just snorted, congratulated him, and brought out the fancier plates for sandwiches — shipped in from home instead of a sale at Target — all the while, repeating to himself in a loop, that this changed nothing between them, nothing at all, and Cas having the capacity to be attracted back to him didn't mean that he ever would be (or for hell's sake, he'd scoffed at his traitorous chick-flick-nonsense brain, is.)

The second time had been early — way, way too early and it was by pure chance that Dean was awake to respond at six friggin' am on a Sunday. Like, that’s practically nighttime.

Goddamn stupidly-fit running-freak.

Dean picks up his phone blearily, tongue in cheek as he clicks on it.

>>> I miss you [6:28 am]

>>> I'd* miss you [6:29 am]

Dean's stomach twists, and he's not sure if it's in a good way, or a bad way, or what-the-sincere-fuck-are-you-talking-about way.

<<< what [6:32 am]

<<< wtf are you talking about? [6:32 am]

Nothing.

<<< cas? [6:33 am]

<<< dude [6:34 am]

<<< cas???? [6:34 am]

Dean swears at his screen, more queasy than irritated. He can't stop fidgeting, so gives up on lying down altogether and hoists himself to his feet. Better to get his friggin' toothbrush since he's already up, and now definitely awake. Cas was so paying for this later.

He comes back, mouth mint-fresh in theory but still tasting awful and of fear and dread, and practically sags when he sees his screen blare with two messages from Cas.

>>> sorry, I had to make a call. [6:42 am]

>>> I'm not taking the job. [6:42 am]

And that's how Dean finds out about Michael (Cas's oldest brother, entitled asshole) inviting Cas to join his and Lucifer's (second oldest, bag of dicks) firm the year he graduates — invite, of course, being a loosely used word here for expecting it blindly (out of some crap he calls 'loyalty') and being readily willing to manipulate him into it.

And it's how he finds out that Cas turned them down.

"It's not who I am anymore." Cas had repeated, third time probably, and surer than before, and Dean had nodded earnestly before realizing Cas couldn't see him through the phone, and humming his affirmation instead. "And if I go back there, I'm never getting out again."

Dean'd swallowed.

"I don't want to." Cas had said, voice trembling. "I am — my own person here. It shouldn't be like this but this is the first time I have autonomy, Dean. Here is free will, and here are you. I don't — I can't. I'm not going to let them take it away."

"Good." He'd sounded shaky to even himself. "Don't."

"Yes." Cas had promised. "I'm not going."

And eventually they'd moved past the heavy talk into why-didn't-I-hear-about-this-before territory, Dean being righteously annoyed at his best friend for keeping something so huge from him, and Cas making lame (but probably valid) excuses in the name of not knowing how to explain the situation until he knew himself what he was going to do, because Dean may've been the first person he'd confided in about the insane fuckery that been his childhood and adolescence, but that still didn't mean he'd understand this, broken and convoluted.

And then Cas had nicely segued himself out of Dean's target of irritation and added, "They asked Gabriel too, by the way."

"And?" Dean didn't ever have much care for Gabriel (third oldest brother, cares about Cas, still a jerk) but Cas shared an apartment with him, so he had to face him plenty.

"He's running off to Miami."

And Dean had thrown his head back and laughed until Cas had smoothly added, "And I was wondering if you would consider moving in with me."

At which point, of course, he'd started coughing instead, because holy shit, it actually made sense (Sammy had left for Stanford two months back, and Dean lived alone in a space that had probably been two big even when there were two of them) and might actually happen, but Dean wasn't really sure how much longer he'd be able to hide his crush, sharing a friggin' kitchen with the guy.

The third time's after their first date.

(Because, well. It happened.

It happened with Dean leaning across the breakfast table to prove to Cas his bacon was superior (to cookie friggin' crunch, because goddamn is Cas a dork) and Cas taking a bite with their eyes fixed on each other's, and Dean turning red when Cas licked his lips and then, just like that, Cas swearing under his breath (definitely filed for later pondering, that bit), grabbing Dean, and kissing the living daylights out of him.

And Dean had kissed back with everything he had, hands cupping his face, and nearly melting in his arms - but then they'd separated for air and Cas had had an apologetic look on his face and when Dean had tried to lean in to kiss it away, he'd received half a smile and a shake of his head.

"Let's do it the way we're supposed to."

And Dean had known immediately what he'd meant. Let's not fuck this up by becoming best friends and roommates who sleep together. Let's...play safe.

"Okay. Uh," he'd rubbed the back of his neck. "Would you like to go on a date with me?"

"Thursday." Cas had promised with twinkling eyes, though Dean had already known he was going to say that since he knew Cas’s week at least as well as he knew his own, and two days and an anxious half of a thursday later, they went on their first date. Burgers and beer, and Led Zepp, and hands held in the Impala. Four hours later, they were back, and in their respective rooms, and Dean couldn't stop thinking about Cas.)

When his phone vibrates, Dean reaches for the bedside table.

It's at least midnight, it feels like he's been in bed for ages, and the only reason he isn't asleep is because all his brain seems to be capable of at the moment is thinking endlessly about the date. Fortunately, he's not the only one — although he's better at hiding it (practise, he'd say) because his heart is in his mouth the moment he reads Cas's text.

>>> I think I'm falling in love with you [11:43 pm]

>>> already. [11:43 pm]

Dean is very grateful for autocorrect as he types back with too-excited thumbs and a racing heart.

<<< so much for doing it the regular way cas mosby [11:44 pm]

>>> in my defense, it's been years. [11:44 pm]

<<< that part i get [11:44 pm]

<<< me too [11:44 pm]

<<< but youre supposed to wait three days before calling dumbass [11:45 pm]

Jesus, he'd never expected to blush cause of texts, but here they are.

>>> I'm texting. [11:46 pm]

And he guesses he'd never expected to giggle (he's alone there, sue him) cause of them either, but Cas apparently exists to prove him wrong about himself.

<<< good for you [11:46 pm]

He sends, biting his lip, and then lies in the silent darkness for a couple of minute, devoid of text notifications entirely, thinking uneasily — before he gives up.

They're idiots, sure, but nobody is this dumb.

<<< so when the fuck are you coming over then [11:50 pm]

>>> on my way <3 [11:50 pm]

And thinking about the lightening speed of that reply and the fucking heart emoji is enough to sustain him the entire one minute it takes Cas to get there, gently opening Dean's door, and climbing into bed — fitting in Dean's space like it's been made for him, and kissing him in greeting after leaving his phone on the table next to Dean's.

As it goes, with the confessions and the midnight cravings (and the grocery lists that keep getting piled onto through the day, and random pickup lines Cas decides are perfect to send Dean daily once he's found a website for puns, courtesy of Claire, and of course, pictures of Grease, which clog Dean's cloud in dozens whenever the ridiculously cute cat does something even slightly out of routine, god bless her lazy soul) Cas might just be a texter.

But Dean's pretty sure he's more than okay with it, so it doesn't really matter.

#spnadventcalendar2020 #destiel #destiel college au #casdean #dean is bi #texting fic #destiel fluff #best friends to lovers #+ roommates :))#deancas au #young dean winchester #young castiel #bluefirecas #rambleoncas #tearsofgrace #userpris #oh writing my writing #i had fun writing this :)#college aus almost feel like my roots at this point

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queenxxxsupreme · 4 years

Note

Hello!! I'm kinda embarrassed but could you do an uno reverse with the chubby Arthur fanfic but its with a chubby reader instead?? (your choice to make Arthur also chubby or not) Thank you!!

A/N: Don’t be embarassed (I spelled that wrong but autocorrect won’t work right now and I’m too dumb to know how to spell it off the top of my head lol) I absolutely love to write for Arthur! I feel like he doesn’t get enough attention anymore. Thank you for the ask!! I hope you like this! The ending got a little messy and not great cause I didn’t know how to end it but I hope you like it!

Warnings: mentions of poor body image and Micah being a fucking douche, but there’s fluff! Arthur makes things better

***

“Y/N!” Mary-Beth called your name.

You turned your head to look at her. Karen and Tilly stood with her by the wagon. John was hitching up a couple horses to the wagon with Lenny’s help.

“Hi, ladies.” You greeted them as you approached the tent.

“We’re gonna go into town. You wanna come with us?”

“What are you plannin’ on doing in town?”

“Oh you know, just the usual.” Mary-Beth answered with a little wave of her hand. “Seein’ what the folk around here are like.”

“And maybe robbin’ them.” Tilly giggled.

“But we aren’t gettin’ into too much trouble.” Karen added. “John won’t let us, will you John?”

“I hope not.” He sighed, buckling a strap on the horse.

“So what do you say, Y/N?” Tilly asked you.

Arthur watched from across camp as you declined the ladies’ offer to join them on their trip into town. His eyes stayed on you while you watched them leave in the back of the wagon John and Lenny were driving.

You began to pick at your nails, the furrow between your brows becoming more prominent. The picking at your nails was a bad habit of yours, one you only did when something was clouding your mind.

“Are ya even listening to me, Arthur?” Uncle asked him.

Arthur took the cigarette out of his mouth and tossed it into the fire as he stood up. You were going to your tent so that’s were he planned on going.

“Stopped listenin’ a while ago, Uncle. Thought you would’ve noticed.”

Uncle began to complain about Arthur’s inattentiveness but the outlaw was already leaving the table, making his way across camp to check on you.

Arthur ducked inside the tent he shared with you, taking his hat off.

“Hey, pumpkin.” He greeted you.

You turned to face him, offering him a little smile.

“Hi, Arthur.”

“What’re you up to?” He asked. Maybe you were too busy to go into town.

“Gonna go read out by the cliffside for a bit.” You picked up your book from the end table. “Do you want to come with me? Or are you busy?”

“I’m never too busy for you, pumpkin.” He flashed you a little smile as you moved towards him. He was expecting you to stop, even if only for a moment, to give him a kiss on the cheek or to brush your hand along his chest like you always did when you passed him by. But you simply walked by him without even looking at him.

Something was definitely wrong. This confirmed his worries.

“How was meetin’ up with Mary?”

“Went about as pleasant as you’d think. Wanted me to get her brother back from that religious group, the Chelonia.”

“That sounds like fun.”

“Depends on your definition of fun.” Arthur muttered.

You were thankful that no one was down by the edge of the cliff. You wanted to have some peace and quiet away from everyone.

You decided to sit beneath a tree, placing your book in your lap. Arthur grunted rather dramatically as he got down next to you.

“M’too old for this kinda shit.” He sat facing you. One of his legs was loosely crossed while the other was spread to cross over yours, though he didn’t put any weight on your legs.

“You don’t gotta follow me around, you know.” You giggled softly.

“I know. Just like spendin’ time with ya.” He took his hat off and put it in the grass beside him. “I, uh, I heard the girls were askin’ you to go to town with them.”

You nodded your head, opening the book in your lap so that you didn’t have to look at him.

“Why didn’t you go? Thought you were tellin’ me just last night you had some errands to run in town.”

“I can do them another time, Arthur. It wasn’t anything important.”

Arthur rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of what to say next.

“Mary-Beth sounded a little eager to have you go with them, don’t you think?”

“I guess you could say that.”

“She was just bein’ friendly though, wasn’t she? She’s a good kid.”

“Arthur, what are you getting at?” You looked up from your book, meeting his gaze.

“I don’t know.” He sighed heavily. He ran a hand over his face. “I-I saw that look on your face when you were watchin’ them go, pumpkin. You looked upset about somethin.’” He paused to gauge your reaction. “Did something happen with one of the girls?”

“No, Arthur.” You dropped your attention back to the book.

“Karen’s not bad unless you get her drunk.” Arthur thought out loud. “And Tilly’s a nice girl, least from what I’ve seen. Mary-Beth too. Abigail can be.... something else. Did she do something?”

“Arthur, please.” You closed the book firmly. “Just stop.”

“Pumpkin, I’m just concerned is all.” Arthur reached over to place his hand on yours. “I don’t like that look I saw on your face. It don’t belong there.”

“The girls didn’t do anything to me, Arthur.” You murmured quietly, feeling a scratchy sensation begin in the back of your throat. “It’s all okay, I promise.”

“You say that, but I don’t see it in your eyes.” He shook his head. Cerulean blue eyes gazed at you with such a softness that you could’ve melted right there, but the torment you felt in your chest and in your head were too much. It pushed that softness he was able to make you feel away and brought in a dark feeling.

“It doesn’t matter, Arthur.” You stood up, brushing off your skirt, and began to move back towards camp.

However you didn’t get very far. Arthur’s hand found your arm, bringing you to a stop.

You turned your head to look away from him, taking a steady deep breath through your nose in an attempt to make the tears go away. If you could calm yourself down, they would go away.

Arthur’s hand slid down from your bicep to your hand and his thumb began to trace small circles on the back of your hand. You turned your hand over so that you could lace your fingers together.

“You don’t gotta tell me, pumpkin, but I just hate to see you so upset and so quiet about it.” He stepped closer and leaned down to kiss the top of your head.

“I just…. I can’t stand some of these people, Arthur.” You tilted your head down, unable to look up at him. You focused your eyes on his boots. “Just can’t fucking stand them. They’re just….” You couldn’t find the words to accurately describe what you wanted to say.

“Who was it?” Arthur had a very short list of who would put you on the verge of tears. Possibilities and scenarios began to race through his mind.

“Micah just…. He was just being a bastard.” Your voice cracked. “He said you were going into town to see Mary Linton. I knew that’s where you had been earlier today. But he just…. He started saying that you were going to…. That you and her…. Because she’s-she’s thin and pretty and I’m as big as one of the pigs Pearson butchers.”

“He what?” Arthur had to pull his hand away from you as to not cause you any harm. His fingers automatically curled into tight fists and he felt the need to seek out Micah Bell to cause him serious damage.

His eyes left yours and he tilted his head up to search the camp behind you. Micah was sitting at a table with Bill, sharpening his knife.

“It doesn’t matter, Arthur.” You sniffled, looking down at the buttons on his shirt. “He wasn’t wrong. No use in sugar coatin’ it.”

Arthur stared at you for a few moments, his brain still trying to process the anger he felt. Then he took a breath and ran a hand over his face.

“Micah Bell is a miserable son of a bitch, Y/N. He ain’t right about nothin’. Not a damn thing.”

“But Arthur, I don’t-I don’t look like other girls, like Mary or like Karen.” You whispered, tears trailing down your cheeks. You crossed your arms over yourself, suddenly feel extremely self-conscious. “I-I didn’t go into town with them because every time we go into town, people stare at me.”

“Pumpkin, they stare at me too. They’re just a bunch of judgemental pricks.”

“That’s different, Arthur.” You shook your head. It was sweet of him to try to make you feel better, but they stared at him for different reasons than they stared at you. “It’s-It’s just not the same. You.... You’re a normal size. You just come across as intimidatin’ and sometimes folk don’t know how to take that. But me.... They see me and all they see is a pig in a dress.”

“Don’t you say that, Y/N.” He reached up to cup your face, calloused thumbs brushing away your tears. “You don’t look nothin’ like a pig.”

“Mary, she’s just…. She’s so different from me, Arthur.”

“Course she is, pumpkin.” Arthur leaned forward to kiss your forehead, then he placed his hands on your hips and pulled you in for a proper hug. His slipped around you, providing you with a sense of protection. “I don’t see nothin’ wrong with that. And I definitely don’t see nothin’ wrong with you. You’re absolutely gorgeous in my eyes, pumpkin. Wouldn’t change a damn thing about you.”

“But Arthur, I look like a cow.”

“Stop comparin’ yourself to farm animals, Y/N.” He kissed the side of your head. “It’s breakin’ my heart.”

You frowned, leaning your head against his shoulder. Arthur pressed his lips against your head.

“I know you’ve never had the best thoughts about yourself.” He murmured into your hair. “But I got plenty of good thoughts about you for the both of us. I’ll make sure to share them with you until you start thinkin’ about yourself differently. I need you to know that it don’t matter that you’re different from Mary or Karen or anyone else. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that. It’s who you are.”

“Thank you, Arthur.” You sniffled. “You’re too sweet to me.”

“Only ‘cause I love ya, pumpkin.”

***

Hosea caught sight of Arthur as the burly outlaw made his way across camp, a dark look in his eyes.

“Arthur-,”

“Not now, Hosea.” Arthur waved him off. His eyes were set on Micah who wasn’t even looking at him. His back was to Arthur. He sat at a table with Dutch talking about something Arthur didn’t care to listen to.

Arthur grabbed the back of Micah’s chair and tipped it back, knocking Micah out of his seat and on to the ground. In the same heartbeat, Arthur drew the revolver from his hip and cocked the hammer with his thumb.

He put his foot on Micah’s shoulder and aimed the gun at Micah’s chest, glaring down at the man.

“Whoa, cowpoke!”

“Arthur!” Dutch shouted. “Put that gun away!”

Arthur ignored Dutch. The anger bubbling and festering in his veins made him focus solely on Micah.

“It’d be in your best interests to leave Miss Y/L/N alone.” He spoke lowly.

“I was just havin’ a conversation with her while you were out with your old fling-,”

“What I do ain’t none of your goddamned business.” Arthur cut him off. “If I find out you’ve said anything out of line to Y/N again, Micah Bell, I’ll be puttin’ a hole through your goddamn chest.”

Micah said nothing, locking his jaw as he glared up at Arthur. Arthur lowered his gun and then removed his foot from Micah’s shoulder.

Hosea watched as Arthur moved towards his tent, holstering his weapon.

“You’re a funny guy, Arthur Morgan!” Micah stood up, angrily brushing off his clothes.

“And you’re a dumb bastard.” Hosea muttered, shaking his head as he walked away. “Surprised it’s taken this long.”

Taglists: @winterwolf @doggone-cowgirl @lauramb7 @caraqas @bluscryn @nonodino @krenee1drful @thefirelordm @sargeantsea @sokkasdarling @zodiacaldust @gabstaroc @cal-lifornication

If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x chubby!reader #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan oneshot #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fic #rdr2 oneshot #kacey answers

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tedturneriscrazy · 3 years

Text

Another Saturday, another episode! Let's take a look at Keeping Up A-fear-ances!

(Good lord I'm starting to make myself sound like some sort of content creator)

Oh, okay, we're just starting at that level of intensity, huh?

Chest gem origins

Gwendolyn not being satisfied with managing the curse and determined to cure it? I'm sure this won't be a real world allegory in the slightest.

Oh, so Eda literally just stumbles upon the portal? I could call that contrived, but honestly it's not dissimilar to how Dipper found Journal 3. For that matter, the entirety of Lord of the Rings is predicated on an accidental discovery like this and nobody gave Tolkien shit about it.

Was the eye on the portal cracked in previous episodes? I don't remember.

Seems like Gwen is the "well-meaning but ultimately misguided" flavor of mom.

As an aside, I am now quite curious about how Eda's first trip to the human realm went. Maybe a future episode will cover it? At any rate, I smell a new favorite fic prompt.

The screaming alarms in the Demon Realm will never not be funny to me.

Also, that is a worrying number of hearts. Eda is straight up murdering these poor creatures.

For some reason the gold fang being removable never occurred to me as a possibility, and now I feel like a kid who's discovered that Santa isn't real.

Oh hey, the new outfit! I'm also impressed how close to symmetrical that tearing was.

I need to get a screencap of Luz sleeping on that stack of books because she is adorable.

Also, staying up all night researching? This season seems determined to completely eradicate the notion of Luz being dumb, and I am here for it.

I have a feeling the Hexside mug will be making its way to The Mystery Shack in the near future.

Lilith's first experience with transformation and she seems understandably horrified.

The curse acting stronger when stressed? That seems...important.

Ah, so the dismemberment is from the curse! A surprisingly useful side effect from what we've seen so far.

Can I just say that I appreciate how Eda's reaction to Lilith's first taste of transformation is immediate remedy, explanation, and reassurance? And doesn't make any snarky comments along the lines of "now you know what it's like?" Whatever happened in that week and a half must have been cathartic as hell.

"Always. Always curious." Luz is the TOH fandom.

(Also, Eda, you know she is, considering how much she went on about your "mysterious past" at the Covention)

"Magic bird tornado?!" Luz has a way with words that's just *chef's kiss*.

"Gwendolyn." Eda is already just fucking done.

"MOM?!?!" Jeez, Lilith, you're just now hearing all this?

I was charmed by how motherly Gwen was acting toward Eda, but then she kinda just...dismissed Lilith, and now I'm somehwat less charmed.

(Sweet flea as a term of endearment is kinda cute, though might have some unfortunate implications depending on how you want to interpret it)

"Who knows what they put in those nasty concoctions?" OH WE GOING FOR THE ANTI-VAXXERS NOW YESSSS

Luz and Lilith's reaction to that whole exchange is priceless.

Everyone's perspective here makes perfect sense for who they are and what they've been through.

Poor Lilith. Her cursing Eda is beginning to make more sense.

Ah, thus begins the collaboration.

"We'll be consulting someone very special." Why does that seem so...ominous?

Is there anyone who watched this episode for the first time whose bullshit detector didn't go off immediately when Gwen mentioned finding someone who promised a cure?

Heh, Palm Stings.

Nonbelievers will be blinded by the power of the tome? I'm sure they will be, Wartlop.

I must say, as something of a scientist myself (okay that's not true, I'm a QA tech for a food manufacturer, but I do have a chemistry degree), I am 100% here for the swings being taken at faith healing/"miracle" cures/anti-vaxxers in this episode

Oh, we Wile E. Coyote now, huh?

Also, interesting how much apple blood is being played up in this episode.

Lilith please you're projecting your mommy issues on a literal child

OH WE REALLY JUST WILE E. COYOTE HUH?

You're right, Luz, Gwen's bicep game is goals.

(Somewhat disappointed the scars are from questing and not beastkeeping, but eh)

Why do I get the feeling there's gonna be a future episode where everybody stages an intervention for Eda's apple blood problem?

"Those feathers mean we're driving the beast out" Gwen no

Hooty is holding the brain cell? Oh no...

If that ice cream came from the Night Market it would explain why Lilith sounds drunk.

(Side note: I can't be the only one getting flashbacks to Mermista's ice cream binge, right? Different context, but still)

"Abomi-berry" "Franken fruit" "Key slime pie" These are A+ flavor names.

Oh, there's the transformation...

I must say that whole segment kinda rubbed me the wrong way. The way King's opinion on his dad was changed seemed...I don't know how to describe it. I get that they needed a trigger for Lilith's transformation, but honestly if any part of the episode is contrived it's this.

"¡It really is that good!" So that's what an accent slip in written form looks like. (The upside down exclamation point is used in Spanish, in case anyone didn't know)

I keep half expecting Eda to say "Beep! Beep!" at this point.

Luz is finally asking questions. Took long enough.

Ah, the classic "moving the goal posts to extract more money from a desparate family member" technique.

Luz channeling Scorpion, we love to see it.

There is an exquisite irony in Eda's mom being scammed, I must say.

Ah, so that's where the elixirs went. Dammit, Gwen.

Luz is definitely thinking "Are you fucking kidding me right now?!"

Beast!Lilith is massive.

"Sweet flea?" Gwen just realized she done goofed.

"I can see you still need a little time." God Luz is so fucking smart.

The con revealed.

OH DAMN SCARY MAMA

(Also I am terrified of bees/wasps, so extra scary mama in my book)

The scam is revealed, goblins, getting back into the Wartlop disguise is kinda pointless.

She joined the Beast Keeping coven entirely to cure the curse? That's dedication. A shame you couldn't have spared some of that for Lilith.

Still, I do like badass scary mama Gwen. I'd be down to see more of that.

Owl Beast fight!

I am slayed by the fact that the portraits are now officially a recurring gag 😂

Aw, here's The Moment™️

"My turn to drive" Does this imply cars are a thing on the Boiling Isles after all?

Lilith crying almost immediately💔 She was holding onto a lot of pain.

Yes, King, she was trying to do her best. I mean, road to hell or whatever, but at least Gwen got there in the end.

WHAT?! YOU'RE BREAKING UP LULU AND HOOTCIFER?!?!?!?

Terrace, that's just cruel. (Worthless brownie points for whoever understands that reference)

No, seriously, you can't just give me my favorite inter-character relationship in the series after Lumity and just...take it away like that, come on! 😭😭😭😭😭😭

I know I should remark on how Lilith told Gwen about the circumstances of the curse, how Gwen rightfully accepted responsibility for the whole situation, and how Luz finds the big hair aspirational, but...NOOOO DON'T END THE ADVENTURES OF LULU AND HOOTCIFER WHYYYYYYYYY💔😭💔😭💔😭

"BUT I CAN'T HOLD A PEN!"

I will never emotionally recover from this.

Okay, I think I got that out of my system. Anyway...

Not the only human, huh? Cue the "Belos is a human" theorists going into maximum overdrive.

That said, a tantalizing lore dump.

We certainly do have a lot of garbage. Some of it even holds office. HEY-O!

Setting up the next episode, too. Continuity!

Camp's over, huh? That means it's been three months.

Way to misdirect with Camila, guys. That said, we have now seen Camila cry and I HATE it. (In the right way, I think)

WHAT THE FUCK

HOLY SHIT

CREEPY LUZ IS REAL WHAT

OWJEIWHQGIWWOPQ

(It's hard to keysmash on a phone, even with autocorrect off)

That wraps it up! The flaws in this episode seem more pronounced than any others in the season so far, but the good stuff was really good! Overall a solid episode! I know everybody's looking forward to library Lumity in the next one (so am I), but I'm personally eager to see what they do with Gus. His part is the A plot, after all.

Anyway, I'll be back at this next week! Still hard to believe this is a thing, but that's life, I guess.

#the owl house #eda clawthorne #gwendolyn clawthorne #luz noceda #lilith clawthorne #king of demons #toh king #toh s2 spoilers #the owl house s2 spoilers #the owl house season 2 spoilers #toh spoilers #the owl house spoilers

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prettyboyjackhughes · 3 years

Text

-Boy Best Friends- [J. Hughes & T.Smith]

Literally no one asked for this but Kelly @prettyboycozens and I were talking about how much we love Jack and Ty's friendship, especially after the interview of Jack where Ty comes in and then came up with this idea and I had to write it so here we are! Hope you enjoy!

Jack and I had been close since we were little. We started out next door neighbors then he was the weird boy who I waited at the bus stop with, then he became the boy I had every class with in middle school. Around 6th grade is when we finally clicked and became best friends. He calls me ‘Ranch’ even though my name is Rachel, all because one time his phone autocorrected ‘Rach’ to ‘Ranch’ and he thinks it’s the funniest thing ever. He even changed my contact name to ‘Ranch’.

It’s been an interesting 8 years being friends with him and watching him grow up. The funny thing is, I’m pretty sure we’ve only spent a full year together one time during our whole friendship. He’s always been off doing all his hockey stuff while I’ve been home in Michigan. But then college rolled around. He got drafted the summer after my senior year, managing to watch me walk across the stage at graduation before flying up to Vancouver for his draft 2 days later. I watched him get drafted on TV and remember the thrill of hearing New Jersey picked him because coincidentally, the college I was planning on attending, Seton Hall, was about 20 minutes away from the arena he would be playing in. Knowing I would be getting to spend, hopefully, the next 4 years with my best friend within a short car ride’s distance away for the first time in 8 years was some of the best news I had gotten in a long time. The first year was rough but I managed to survive, mainly because of Jack. It took a while to figure out the dynamic of our friendship but we settled into a routine and a comfortable cycle. We went back to Michigan for the summer, spending it with our families. He trained most of the summer while I worked. But almost every evening was spent together. Then it came time for us to head back to Jersey and back to the chaos that waited for us.

“Why are you living in the dorm again next year? When Ty and I have a perfectly good room for you to stay in?” Jack asked, his face way too close to his phone. We had been on FaceTime for at least the last 2 hours, him distracting me as I attempted to do homework.

“Because I can? Why would I wanna live with you and Ty?” I shot back, smirking as he looked offended.

“Well that one hurts. Hey, I was just offering so you didn’t have to worry about getting stuck with a bad roommate, like freshman year.” I grimaced at the thought of my freshman year roommate. I had spent more time camped out in Jack’s apartment than at my own dorm.

“That is a good point. But who said you and Ty are good roommates? I know for one, you never pick up anything, your room was always a disaster when we were little and Ty sings in the shower so there’s two cons.” Jack rolls his eyes.

“My singing is lovely! You’re just jealous you can’t sing as well as me!” Ty yells from across the room as Jack turns the camera to show him.

“We’ll work on the singing. And I’ve gotten much better at cleaning up after myself. I even know how to do laundry now!” Jack says, excitedly. I laugh and put my pen down.

“This really isn’t convincing me to move in with you two. Just saying.” Jack rolls his eyes.

“Just give us a chance. It’ll be fun.” I shrug.

“Okay fine. But you do know that means Brady will be around the apartment, right?” Jack’s face screws up a little and I roll my eyes. Brady is my boyfriend that I met midway through my freshman year. He was a sophomore, majoring in business and just happened to be at the very first party I went to. He was older, in a fraternity and sweet-talked me. I fell head over heels for him almost instantly. But the issue was that Jack and Ty weren’t huge fans.

“Jack, he's not that bad.” This time it’s Jack’s turn to scoff.

“Yeah because having to go and pick your drunk boyfriend up from a party every 2 nights doesn’t make him that bad.” Ty appears next to him and starts talking.

“Rach, we’re just looking out for you. We don’t exactly love the guy.”

“Well that’s what’s gonna happen so get used to the idea.” Jack looks over at Ty.

“I think we can be civil. So you’re moving in?” I nod and Jack cheers. I roll my eyes and start to think about what I have to pack.

The next two weeks are a whirlwind of chaotic packing and moving. The boys were sweet enough to give me the biggest bedroom in the apartment, even though I had the least amount of stuff out of the 3 of us. Once I had moved in, the boys and I settled into a routine of me cooking, then cleaning up, them doing laundry and me folding; really just a lot of splitting up the housework and jobs around the house to get them done. Brady was around a lot, but Jack and Ty were civil and not complete jerks. I was proud of them. But then one night, while Jack, Ty and I were watching some movie Ty had been wanting to watch, I got yet another call from Brady asking me to come pick him up.

“Baby…I…need you to come get me…I-“ Brady’s drunk voice is drowned out by the yelling and music in the background and I can’t hear him anymore.

“Brady, where are you? I’ll come get you.” He mumbles something back but I can’t understand it so I just end the call.

“I have to go get Brady. He’s drunk at a party again.” I say, sighing as I get up off the couch. Jack and Ty exchange a look and then Jack gets up too.

“I’ll drive you. You’ll have to make sure he doesn’t puke in my car though.” I nod as Ty stands up too.

“Might as well come along for the ride.” I slip my shoes on and follow Jack out the door of the apartment, Ty closing the door behind us.

“Let me check his location and I’ll tell you where we’re going.” After enough times of being left sitting somewhere and having no idea where Brady was, he ended up agreeing to share his location with me. In times like these, it was his saving grace.

“He’s about half an hour away. The party must be somewhere in New York.” Jack doesn’t say anything, just starts driving. The ride there is silent, for the first time. Usually Jack and Ty won’t shut up when we’re in the car, constantly fighting about what music to listen to, whose turn it is to drive; everything under the sun is up for discussion when we’re in the car. I usually sit back and listen, occasionally injecting myself into the conversation when I feel necessary. I’ll also play mediator when they’re fighting over something stupid. But the fact that it was silent in the car right now, made everything so much worse. It feels like we’re driving to the end of the world.

“There’s the house.” I say, almost 45 minutes later. Jack manages to get the car parked and turns around to look at me.

“You want us to come with you to find him?” I shake my head, sliding out of the car and shutting the door behind me. This would be the 5th time I’ve had to pick Brady’s drunk ass up from a party in the last 2 weeks. I was getting pretty tired of it. But his explanation was that it was because he was in a fraternity. He said that it was apart of his “brotherhood” or something stupid like that. I didn’t buy any of it but I loved him so I let it go. And as I waded my way through ridiculously sweaty bodies all dancing to way too loud music, I remembered how much I didn’t like partying.

“Hey you’re Brady’s girlfriend right?” A girl asks, grabbing my arm and yelling over the music. I turn to her and nod, an eyebrow raised.

“I just saw him go into a room with some other girl. Top of the stairs on the left.” I gulped, hoping she was wrong.

“Thanks!” I yell back, hurrying over to the stairs and taking them two at a time. I wind through people going up and down the stairs and manage to get to the door. As my hand finds the handle, I take a deep breath, hoping and praying that the sight behind this door isn’t going to be what I think it is. I finally bite back the fear and push the door open. Sure enough, sprawled out across the bed with some girl’s hands all over his bare chest is my boyfriend.

“Baby? Hey I-“ He says, starting to sit up.

“Fuck you. Hope she’s worth it.” I spit out, glaring at him before turning around to rush out of the room. I stumbled down the stairs, bumping into people and blindly apologizing as I pushed through the crowd. Somehow I managed to make it out of the house and into the back seat of Jack’s car.

“Hey hey hey are you okay? Where’s Brady?” Jack asked, a concerned look plastered across his face.

“He-he cheated on me. Wi-with some girl at the p-party.” I stuttered, fighting the tears pressing against my eyes. He and Ty exchange a look and then both look at me.

“Just drive Jacky. Please.” I whisper as the tears finally start to slow a little. It’s silent again for most of the car ride. My phone kept buzzing with texts and calls from Brady but finally, after what seemed like the thousandth call, I put it on do not disturb and tossed onto the seat next to me.

“Well, I mean, there’s always the option of kicking his ass.” Ty says from the front seat, looking up into the rearview mirror at me.

“What do you say, Jacky boy?” I bury my face in my hands and finally let the tears fall.

“Shit Ty, she’s crying! You broke her!” Jack says, hitting Ty’s arm as he looks back at me.

“I didn’t break her! How is it my fault!” They continue to argue back and forth the rest of the ride home, which would usually make me smile and roll my eyes but not today. Not after what just happened.

As soon as we get back to the apartment, I rush inside and to my room, closing the door behind me. I heard Jack and Ty come in not long after me and whisper about something for a while. I hear the front door open and close again and then Jack tapping lightly on my door.

“Hey Ranch, you okay?” He asks, getting a tiny smile from me because of the nickname.

“I should’ve listened to you and Ty. You said he wasn’t good for me but I didn’t listen. I-I thought he loved me.” This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve cried to Jack about boys. I’ve had my share of boyfriends through the years and every single break up was cried out, usually over the phone with Jack.

“Ty went to go get you ice cream and I remembered how much you like bubble baths so I got one ready for you if you want…” He says, awkwardly picking at his thumb and looking at me.

“Seriously, how did I get so lucky to have you as my best friend? You and Ty?” He smiles a little as I sit up and walk over to where he’s standing in the doorway.

“You both are going to make some very lucky girls happy someday, you know that right?” He smiles and nods as I hug him.

“Now aren’t you glad you moved in here?” I smile and nod, looking up at him.

“Yeah. Yeah I am.”

#jack hughes #ty smith #best friends #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl hockey #jack hughes imagine #ty smith imagine #new jersey devils #the ty to my jack #crying buddies

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bloodbending222 · 4 years

Note

Could you maybe do a korra x reader where both of them are super obvious about the fact that they like each other, so literally everyone knows except them, then Bolin (haha that just autocorrected to bologna) convinces Korra to finally ask the reader out and it's very fluff? THANK YOOOOOOOUUUUUU.

B O L O G N A

✰ fandom: The Legend of Korra

✰ pairings: Korra x reader

✰ word count: 2k

✰ warning(s): alcohol consumption, tiny steaminess at the end, language

✰ author’s note: this was a lot of fun to do, i thought writing Korra would be a bit challenging for me, but i had a blast writing this! thank you for the request, anon! i really hope you like it :) ♡

please read my rules!!

The buzzer for your front door rang again as you fixed your hair in the mirror for the third time, your small apartment filling with its shrill sound. He was holding the button down this time. You hated to keep your friend waiting in the cold, but he was the one who opted to wait for you outside rather than coming in.

The same nervous phrase played in your mind again, Korra’s gonna be at the party.

Groaning, you walked over to your callbox and held down the talk button, “I’m getting my boots on!”

When you opened the front door to your apartment, you were greeted with a very cold gust of wind and a grumpy expression from Bolin. He was shivering, cradling the bottle of cactus juice he brought along as a party favor. He watched you walk out in front of him and started after you. Fluffy snowflakes floated around the two of you in the winter air.

“It’s so cold! How long does it take you to get ready for a party?!”

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t take a century to make yourself look good either, Mr. Hero of the South,” you teased as he caught up with you.

Bolin was quick to defend his fictional persona, puffing out his chest dramatically, “Hey, don’t bring Nuktuk into this. He’s only ever fashionably late for everything. You’re just late now because you know that Korra’s gonna be there.”

Bolin’s statement made your face flush bright red. You wound up your open palm and playfully smacked your friend in the arm, which made him laugh.

“Hey! It’s not my fault you make it so obvious, with the way the two of you are always sitting so close together. You think you’re slick when you stare at her while she’s not paying attention, too. It’s kind of adorable,” Bolin snickered, “But Asami, Mako, and I can see right through you, [Y/n].”

You looked down at your boots as they tamped down on the fallen snow with every step. You knew Bolin was right. You were infatuated with Korra from the beginning. You recalled the day that Bolin introduced you to each other. He’d introduced her as the Avatar, and she laughed and said, “Unlike Bolin here, I’m not one for formalities. Just call me Korra.”

Her smile was so warm. You felt enchanted by her presence, hesitating to shake her hand when she held it out to you. You remember looking at her and asking yourself, how could someone be so gorgeous?

“You would make a cute couple.”

Bolin’s remark snapped you back into the moment, “What? No way, she’s not into me.”

There was a pause between you two. Bolin gave you a look that said, You’re so full of shit and you know it.

“Besides,” You stuttered, “even if she did...she’s too busy for a relationship. She has more important things to worry about.”

The two of you rounded the corner and Bolin remarked as you came to a stop at Asami’s apartment building, “[Y/n], my friend, nothing’s more important than looove.”

You rolled your eyes and Bolin pressed the buzzer marked SATO.

“Who is it?” Asami’s voice inquired over the crackling speaker.

“Republic City Police,” Bolin said in a tough-guy voice, “If you don’t let us in, you’re under arrest.”

“Right away, officers,” Asami replied, and you heard Korra’s laughter in the background. You swore your heart skipped a beat.

The door buzzed and you let yourselves in, climbing the stairs up to Asami’s unit. She opened the door and was met with a bear-hug from Bolin. In the living room, you saw Korra turn around and beam at you. Mako waved at the two of you with a pleased, “Hey, guys,” as he sat on the couch.

Before you could take off your coat, Korra walked over and embraced you. You smiled and hugged her back, blushing at your newfound knowledge that your entire friend group somewhat knew about your feelings for her.

“I’m so happy that you’re here, [Y/n]. Asami made snacks, we’ve got games,” she pulled away from the hug and looked at you inquisitively, “How’ve you been? You look great.”

You got a little flustered at Korra’s compliment paired with the physical touch she was giving you so openly. She wasn’t wearing her normal attire; she had on dark jeans and a blue cardigan sweater with a white halter top underneath. When you looked at her eyes, you noticed she had mascara on.

Why do you have to be so pretty? You wanted to say.

“I should be saying that to you, Korra. I like your outfit.”

Not too obvious, [Y/n].

As the two of you finally broke from your hug, Bolin handed Asami the bottle he brought and joined Mako in the living room. Asami offered you a drink, and you accepted. She poured glasses for everyone and soon all five of you were huddled together around the coffee table in the living room, snacking and chatting amongst each other.

Korra sat down next to you on the floor, while Asami, Mako, and Bolin shared the couch. Asami set up a couple of games for you all to play, and Bolin insisted that you all have a Pai Sho tournament. His proposition made you roll your eyes at his predictability, knowing that he had a vendetta against Asami for being so much better than him.

As you watched your friends go back and forth, Korra went to scoot a little closer to you, making your shoulders touch. You felt the skin on your arm vibrate under the soft fabric of her sweater. You could smell the perfume she was wearing; subtle, but so pleasant. You caught yourself stealing glances at her a couple of times and remembered Bolin teasing you about it earlier in the night. You didn’t care if you would hear it from him again, though. You were just happy to be so close to her.

Asami crushed both Bolin and Mako at their rounds of Pai Sho. They had decided midway to make it a drinking game, Asami being closer to sober than anyone else in the room. Mako sunk into the couch and admitted his defeat, empty glass in hand. Bolin was comically shouting about how Asami had cheated in some far-off way. She reveled in her victory.

There was a beat of silence before Mako slowly looked at you and Korra, asking, “You two gonna play at all tonight?”

You and Korra both looked up at the same time, snapped back into the present moment. The both of you stuttered at the same time something to the effect of, “Oh, no, its okay,” and, “We just want to watch you guys play.”

Bolin couldn’t help but stifle a chuckle, and you shot a glare at him. He put his hands up innocently and gave you the same look that he did during your conversation earlier.

Korra suddenly stood up, smiling, “I’m gonna go to the bathroom. Why don’t we find a game to play that we’re all good at while I’m gone, okay?”

As she left, she brushed her hand against your shoulder blade, making you shiver. You wondered if it was on purpose.

Korra could hear the group talking outside of the bathroom. As she opened the door to return to the group, she jumped as Bolin was waiting right outside, leaning against the wall. He stared at her with a smirk across his lips.

“Jeez, you scared me. What’s that look for?”

“Oh, no reason,” Bolin said sarcastically, cracking his knuckles, “It’s just that you were taking such a long time in the bathroom, I wanted to check on my good ‘ole pal Korra.” He threw his arm around her and squeezed, “Hey, so you like [Y/n], right? Like, you wanna be their girlfriend?”

Korra gave him a poorly-faked look of shock, blushing, “What are you talking about?”

Bolin didn’t respond. He just stared blankly at her.

“I mean, I really like hanging out with them, and they’re really nice, and,” She stopped herself, stuttering now, “We’re just really good friends!”

“Yeah, okay, I believe you. Listen, you should ask them out.”

Korra was taken aback, “You really think they’re gonna--”

“Yes, Korra. I do,” Bolin pointed a thumb toward the open guest bedroom door next to him, “Now, I’m gonna call [Y/n] over and you can go confess your undying love for them in there, okay?”

“Bolin, I’m not--”

“[Y/n], Korra needs you for something!”

You perked up at the sound of Bolin calling you from down the hallway. Breaking your conversation with Mako and Asami, you walked over to see Korra standing in the doorway of the bathroom and Bolin wearing the same stupid smirk again. You looked at Korra and smiled.

“Hey, Korra, what’s up? Everything okay?”

Bolin laughed, “It’s about to be!”

You scoffed at him as he marched triumphantly back to the living room, cackling with pride the entire way.

He left you all alone. With Korra.

“What are we gonna do with him?” You asked, and Korra chuckled.

“I’ve been wondering that for years.”

The two of you shared a laugh, and then her eyes met yours. And there that feeling was again. With every look you shared with her, you felt like your heart was going to burst out of your chest.

But this time you realized that Korra was a little flustered too. Her cheeks grew pink and she broke eye contact, but only for a second before looking back at you and taking your hand.

“Um, want to just...sit and talk for a minute?”

Her hand was soft, which you were aware of already. You were obviously used to being a little touchy with each other, but when you got brave, sometimes you’d hold out your hand to her, palm up, and she’d take it in hers. You didn’t know exactly why you did it in the moment, but whenever you did, it just felt right. It felt so right to be holding her hand in yours.

All you could do was nod. She led you to the bedroom and turned on the lamp on the bedside table. The two of you sat down, Korra sitting cross-legged and facing you. She let out a long, deep sigh. You watched her as she searched her mind for the right words to say. She was so cute when she was concentrating.

She finally spoke, “I’m so happy that you came out tonight. There’s something that I really need to tell you.”

“Is everything alright?” You got a little self-conscious, “Was I being too touchy?”

“No, of course not!” Korra shook her head frantically and held both of your hands in hers, “You could never make me uncomfortable like that. I really love being around you, [Y/n].”

You smiled and adjusted yourself to come face-to-face with her, “I love spending time with you, too, Korra.”

She paused to find her words again. There was a beat between you two before she broke the silence.

“I really, really like you, [Y/n]. You make me feel so happy in a way that no one else has made me feel before...” She swallowed her fears and looked at you intently, “Do you want to go out with me?”

You felt fireworks go off in your chest. All of the anxieties you were feeling from earlier felt like they dissipated in that moment. You didn’t know how long you were waiting for this moment to come.

“Yes,” you said, leaving toward her almost on instinct, “Of course I do.”

Korra gave you the biggest smile you’d ever seen on her. She let go of your hands to wrap her arms around you and pull you close to her. You made eye contact again, but only for a moment before she leaned in and kissed you. You were in shock. You had waited for this moment to come for so long, and now it was finally happening. You returned the kiss to her and wrapped your arms around her shoulders. You felt like you could never be close enough to her.

You could really smell her perfume now. You reveled in the feeling of finally being able to kiss her like this, unafraid to conceal your feelings for her any longer. Her lips were soft against yours, and despite the countless times that you imagined this moment to happen, you never could have conceptualized just how euphoric it actually would be.

Eventually, the sound of your friend group’s laughter echoed into the guest bedroom, and you were broken from your trance.

We’re still at the party, you remembered.

Unaware of how much time had passed, you pulled away, realizing that Korra somehow ended up practically on top of you. Brought back to the present, the two of you slowly sat back up and gazed at one another.

“We should, uh, probably get back out there,” said Korra, breathless at the intensity of the moment you just shared.

You nodded in agreement and stood up with her. She took your hand in hers and squeezed as the both of you walked out together. She looked proud, and you felt so happy, so relieved.

As the two of you returned, Bolin threw his hands up and hollered, “Oh-ho, look which lucky couple decided to join us! How polite of you two!”

Asami laughed. You blushed, and Korra replied with gusto, “Oh, pardon me! Did we miss watching you lose another round of Pai Sho?”

“Alright, lovebirds,” said Mako, equally as entertained as his little brother, “Now that that’s taken care of, get your sorry asses over here. We have a tournament to finish.”

#korra #ask #anon #korra x reader #legend of korra x reader #tlok x reader #korra x you #tlok x you #legend of korra x you #tlok #the legend of korra #tlok fanfic #tlok reader insert

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f00tball-imagines · 3 years

Text

Clandestine Meetings - James Rodríguez

Player: James Rodríguez

Word count: 1.280

Prompt: “Hello, can the next swap sunday projects be another part of Illciit Affairs (for you) and a sequel to Mirrorball (for Laura)? ✨” (Request by Anon)

A/N: Another Swap Sunday, another angsty James piece! ✨💗 This story is a sequel to @alltoolewin’s Mad Woman-inspired imagine 🥰 If you’re new here, you should read my Illicit Affairs fic first, though! 💖

His name lights up on my phone screen. Which lights up my pitch black bedroom. James pink heartlet-purple heartlet-sparkly heartlet. Because a single red one would have been inappropriate. I know damn well that my name in his phone isn't even a name. Just my first initial. Not even a full stop after it. A lonesome letter. Because apparently, that's much less suspicious.

James pink heartlet-purple heartlet-sparkly heartlet wants to know whether I'm still awake at this ungodly hour. After not talking to me for two whole weeks. "Yes," I type into the message box. I'm a fucking fool for texting back. I hit send. I hit my head against the wall. I'm in love with a married man who's kicking a ball around for a living. Who possibly can't and won't love anything or anyone that isn't his daughter. I'm a fucking mess. Please, James, get a pair of glasses, another one, a better one. What do you even want from me? I can't drink from a can unless someone's asking the waiter for a straw. I can't ask waiters for straws because I'm goddamn shy. I can't. I just can't. So why can't James find himself someone better?

My phone vibrates twice. Three simple letters. A "W", a "Y" and a "D". And a lonely question mark. I don't know who's teaching him English slang, abbreviations, the cool stuff. I don't even know why he's pretending to be cool. As I said, the man kicks a ball around for a living. That's not cool. That's fucking weird, now that I'm thinking about it.

"Nothing." What would I be doing at three in the morning? I spend my nights staring at my ceiling unless we're having sex. He knows that. "You?" Did I ask out of common courtesy or do I really want to know what's keeping him awake tonight?

He replies right away. "I'm in bed, I just can't fall asleep."

"Try drinking some tea. That helps."

He sends me an emoji, the facepalming one. I have to laugh, I really cannot help it, but I do find it hilarious when grown-ass men unironically use anything more than just a normal smiley or the occasional thumbs up. James pink heartlet-purple heartlet-sparkly heartlet ups the ante then. "You're a pain in the ass, princesa."

"You're a pain in-" I stop in my tracks. In my fucking vagina. I delete what I've written so far, just to type it out again. "You're a pain in general, Jamesito." I find myself giggling into the darkness. "My aches are developing aches because of you." I add the one emoji with the bandaged head, then I hit send.

"Want me to kiss it better?" It should've been "you're a pain in my vagina". Definitely.

"James, you're being silly. It's half past three. Go to sleep."

"Told you I'm fucking restless. Talk to me." Pouty puppy-eyed emoji. Dude, please!

I sigh, putting the phone down for a second. Yeah, sure. All of a sudden, I'm interesting again. Because there isn't anything else to entertain him. Of course. I should've known. "What about?" My text immediately is marked as read, homeboy isn't even closing our chat in-between messages it seems. I should be flattered, but instead, I just feel like there's something weird about this. Like, why don't you talk to your wife? Why aren't you on video call with your daughter? It's barely nine in Medellín, I know that. Of course I know that, I've pinned Colombia's local time to my home screen.

"Can I call you?"

You have a fucking phone in your hand. You certainly can. "No. Come over." I hate myself for putting myself through that. I hope he's got somewhere to be in the morning. I can't help but wish for him to turn me down.

"Now?"

Now... Now it's my turn to send him a facepalming emoji. No. Next Christmas, dummy.

"Okay," he replies after a split second. Okay, I'm coming over? Okay, cool, a stupid little emoji? Okay, fuck off? Okay what? Another second passes. Buzz buzz. "I'll be there in ten."

"Drive safe," my fingers type out. Crash that fucking car. After running me over, of course. End our misery. Please and thank you. I roll out of bed to put on some pants. He can deal with my washed out tee, he's seen worse. My naked body, for example. I stumble into the bathroom to pile on mascara, to take the fluffy, pink scrunchie out of my hair, to wash the thin film of cold sweat off my forehead. I don't know nervousness when it comes to him. There's just... anxiety. Every time we have one of our little fall-outs, my amount of working braincells gets reduced by two.

I sit down on the toilet lid to catch my breath. I'm gonna get dicked down and then discarded. It's okay, I'm used to it. I'm a one-trick-pony. But I'm just so good at that one trick that James keeps on crawling back to me. The pinkish polish on my nails is starting to chip, so I decide to adorn my fingers with a few rings to distract from that. They look cheap, they were cheap, but I consider them cute, so it's alright.

I don't like texting after my autocorrect has dubbed him Hummus not once, not twice, but several times. He doesn't like calling as his stutter tends to get worse on the phone. So this is nice. The real thing is always nice. "I missed you," he rasps with his arms still wrapped around my torso. "I missed you, too," I whisper back. Lies. I spent a long, long time cursing his name, relatively sure that I would never be moaning it again, that we were over and done. "I still haven't said Happy New Year," he states the obvious. We haven't spoken since Christmas. "No," I confirm, shaking my head. It was the worst New Year's Eve of my life. I've seen the pictures Daniela had posted on her Instagram. At least James has had a great time, apparently.

"Sorry. I thought I should leave you alone." Yes. Because that's the easy way out. "But... Happy New Year. I guess."

"Thanks. To you, too." It truly feels like New Year's. Waiting for the big something, just to end up disappointed because the big something turns out to be some underwhelming bullshit. "Better late than never." There's still snow on the streets, so it's alright, I guess.

"Yes."

"You're fucking annoying, James."

"Oh. Why?" And fucking stupid as well.

"Did you really come over to stand around in my hallway and wish me a Happy New Year? What are you? A caroler?"

"You told me to come."

"I'm not used to you doing as you're told." I force a laugh. I'm not used to niceties and such. I'm used to... the bad stuff.

He just shrugs. He's so unbelievably apathetic, I hate it! "You have the place to yourself tonight?"

"No. You're here with me." I know quite well that he was referring to my roommate. Who, in fact, is staying with her boyfriend for the weekend. I know quite well that he only asked because he is the furthest thing from an exhibitionist I could imagine.

"Ah. Yes. True." So damn stupid! I wish I could get up and leave. But I'm already standing and there's no way to escape my own apartment. "Well?" I ask in an awful attempt to make conversation. Well, he's gonna fuck me. He's gonna break my heart once again and I'm gonna like that. We've been there before. And we're gonna be there time and time again.

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psychovigilantewrites · 5 years

Text

Don’t Call Me That Pt. 2

Wordcount: 10,129

A/N: I thought this part 2 would total up to 10k words, but when it hit 10k, I realised that I was only about 65 percent done. So based on the responses I got from tumblr, I decided to publish this first and then conclude the story later on!

TW: mentions of r*pe, mentions of torture, mentions of drugging someone (??) , mental breakdowns, vulnerability, descriptions of anxiety

Also, HERE’S MY FAV MEMES!! I’m so sorry that I can’t tag respective meme creators, because I saved them on my phone and some of them I forgot to include your usernames!! I’M SO SORRY!!! And honest to god is wear there were more but i must have lost them im so sorry im so incompetent lmao

memeesss

You glanced at your phone.

It had already been a week in Hawaii with your friends, and Jason still hadn’t texted you.

Well, you should have expected it, really. Jason was a traumatised, mentally ill man who had been locked away for two years.

Of course he wouldn’t text you first.

You had contemplated texting him over the past few days, typing in an array of messages ranging from a simple “hey” to a whole paragraph, and deleting all of it without hitting send. Did he even switch the phone on? Was he surfing the internet? Or was the phone still there on the shelf where you had left it.

It was driving you crazy.

“Do you have a boyfriend we don’t know about?” a voice called.

You looked up and squinted at the man who was standing up, looking down at you. You were sitting on the beach, a little further away from the ocean where your friends were.

“What are you talking about?” you asked as Alex plopped down next to you.

“You’ve been fidgety the whole time,” he pointed out, combing back his dark shoulder length hair with his fingers, getting sand in them. “We’re on a private beach, and you’ve been fussing over your phone. Who are you talking to?”

“No one,” you grumbled truthfully.

“The girls have been gossiping,” he gestured to the two other girls playing in the water. Your closest friends. It was four of you in that inseparable group.

“Of course they have,” you groaned, “Tell them to SAY IT TO MY FACE, COWARDS!”

You shouted at them, earning you grins and middle fingers from the distance.

“They’re saying you’re in love with someone,” he chuckled, “But they always say stupid shit like that without any evidence. But sometimes, a girl’s intuition is just right, ya know?”

“Stop beating around the bush, Alex,” you rolled your eyes at him despite knowing he couldn’t see past your sunglasses. “No, I’m not in love. I’m just waiting for a text that might never come.”

“Why don’t you text him first?”

“Because it’s not as simple as that!” you flailed your arms, “He’s… complicated. I can’t just text him anything.”

“Girl, unless he’s Mr. Nottingham, or related to you, then it really isn’t that complicated,” he joked.

“Ugh,” you groaned again, falling back onto the cloth you spread out. “Fine. I’ll text him.”

“Atta girl,” Alex grinned, “I’m gonna head back in the water. Join us after. Please?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved.

Opening the text window for what had to be the thirtieth time, you finally decided to text him.

You: Miss me yet?

Staring intently at the small ‘sent’ below your message bubble, you waited for it to turn to ‘delivered’.

“Yes!” you hissed. It meant that Jason had indeed switched on the phone.

But after twenty minutes you realised that it didn’t matter if Jason switched on the phone if he didn’t want to talk to you. Cursing to yourself, you decided to join your friends in the water, hoping it’ll distract you from checking your phone every five minutes for a text message that might never come.

After an hour of actually spending time with your friends, all four of you returned to the villa, your mood elevated. Checking your phone, you could have jumped for joy when you saw not one, but four consecutive texts in a row.

Jason: Duck off. Jason: What the duck Jason: WHY CANT I SAY DUCK Jason: I DUCKING HATE THIS

You couldn’t let out a string of giggles.

“Oooh, lover boy texted you back, huh?” Alex peeked over your shoulder. “Gimme, I wanna mess with him.”

He snatched your phone from your hands, surprisingly swift and smooth for a civilian, raising it way above his head so you couldn’t reach it and opened the camera.

“Alex-!”

He threw his other arm over your shoulder and pulled you into his bare chest, crushing you before you could tackle him down. He snapped a picture and sent it.

You froze in horror.

“Why the hell did you do that?!” you yelled.

“Relax, I was just messing around,” he gave your phone back to you.

“You don’t- you don’t understand, you fucking asshole!” you screamed.

“I- I’m sorry,” Alex stuttered, surprised by your reaction. “I was just-”

“Fuck off!” you snapped.

Panicking, you saw the little notification below the picture turning from Received to Read.

No. No, no, no, no.

This was bad.

You didn’t want to overwhelm Jason by sending him photos of your activities, thinking that he might react badly to the sudden surplus of familiarity and sense of being close to someone. Now you were worried that he might start to push you away in fear, reverting back to how he was before, and months of progress would have been all for nothing.

He would probably start swearing at you, or worse- switch off the phone and reject any form of communication completely. You hurriedly texted a reply.

You: I’m so sorry! I didn’t send that, my friend was just messing around.

Expecting the worst, you braced yourself for the inevitable. Instead, he sent you:

Jason: Who the hell is that guy?? Jason: Why are you in your underwear??

Your mouth hung open as you stared in shock at the screen. Because you took so long to recover from the shock, he sent you another message.

Jason: ???

Snapping out of it, you texted back.

You: That’s just my friend. Sorry about that! And I’m not in my underwear, it’s a bikini! I’m in Hawaii.

You waited for him to reply, but ten minutes of you sitting anxiously on the turquoise sofa in the middle of the villa listening to the waves of the beach outside from the open doors passed by, and he still hadn’t.

Perhaps he’s busy- wait. There’s no way Jason would be busy. You tried to coax him into a conversation.

You: You can turn off your autocorrect if you want to swear without hassle. Go to your Keyboard settings.

You plopped your phone on the empty seat next to you and dried your hair.

“Ugh, come on!” complained Natalie, fully clothed and washed, walking towards the open concept kitchen from her room. “You’re getting sand everywhere!”

“Woops, my bad,” you grinned.

“There’s a shower outside on the porch for a reason you know,” she flipped her blond beach waves at you, looking through the fridge.

Alex stood quietly at the kitchen island, now scared to say anything.

You rolled your eyes. “Just don’t do it again.”

“Okay, I promise!” he grinned.

Ding.

Jason: fuck. fuck. fucking fuck. Jason: found it. You: Proud of you, man.

You went to your room and showered, then dried off and put on fresh clothes while waiting for Jason to reply.

Of course, he never did.

Groaning, you had to remind yourself that he was not used to human interaction, and texting would come unnaturally to him. Which meant that you had to be the one to keep the conversation going.

You: Do anything interesting since I left?

You saw him typing almost immediately this time.

Jason: no.

Of course not.

You: Have you been eating properly? Jason: yeah.

God, it was so difficult. You were in the middle of typing something when he replied again.

Jason: yoire not my mom Jason: yoire Jason: YOIRE Jason: FUCK WHY CANR I TYPE

You felt guilty for laughing, but you did anyway.

You: Now that you switched off autocorrect, it won’t correct your typos and misspells anymore. Jason: i fucking knw that. Ive been gone for two yeard not twenty. You: Then why do you sound like a grandpa? Jason: BECAISE YOU GAVE ME A FUCKINF IPHONE!! I USED AN ANDROID!!

Now you were really laughing out loud, so you sent him a GIF of a woman rolling her eyes.

Jason: wtf you can send gifs throug text now?? You: Welcome to 2020, my dude. Jason: im not your fucking dude

Typing a reply, Jason interrupted you once again.

Jason: teach me how to do that

Smiling widely, you found that you couldn’t wait for the next week to pass by so you could go back and see him.

***

“How’s Jason?” you asked the minute you reached the Cave computers, panting from the run down.

“Wow, hello to you, too,” Dick chuckled, spinning towards you on the wheeled chair.

It was a Sunday afternoon, and Bruce and Dick were in front of the computers, discussing a case that had connections to Bludhaven Police Department.

Gone for two weeks, you had a lot to catch up on.

“According to Alfred, he’s doing well,” Bruce answered, “Even started to ask for seconds last week. Now Alfred has been making portions for two.”

“He asked? For seconds?” you gasped. “How?”

“He left a note on the tray two days after you left. He’s been making meal requests, too. Texts Alfred in the morning to let him know.”

“Texted?!”

“Alfred slipped his number on the tray in case Jason wanted anything specific.”

“I slipped mine as well, but he hasn’t texted me yet,” Dick pouted.

“When did he start texting?” you ignored Dick.

“Last Sunday.”

So the same day you started texting him, then.

“He hasn’t texted me,” Dick sighed, looking dejected like a kid who was told Disneyland blew up.

“He’ll come around, Dick,” you offered him a smile, “I mean- he’s already texting Alfred!”

“Yeah,” he lamented.

“Okaaay, nice talk. I’m gonna go see him now, bye.”

You ran to the box, but stopped right before you opened the internal door. After checking your hair with your phone camera, you tried to stifle the butterflies in your stomach.

Ugh, you were so fucked.

Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door.

“Yeah,” Jason’s muffled grunt answered you.

Pushing it open, your eyes immediately went to the bed only to find that he wasn’t lounging around reading a book like you expected. Instead, your mouth dropped open when you saw him on the floor, doing push ups.

Shirtless.

Jason had changed drastically during the two weeks you were gone. You noticed that he had definitely gained weight, as well as muscle mass.

“Uh, wh-what are you..?”

He stood up, and you swore your heart skipped a beat.

His muscles were much more prominent and defined now, and he looked like he was going to achieve Dick’s physique if he kept it up for another month or two.

“Welcome back,” he simply said before taking gulps from a water bottle you definitely had not seen before.

“Thanks,” you walked over and sat on his bed, “I’m glad to see that you decided to start taking care of yourself again.”

“What, this? This isn’t for me.”

“Huh?” you cocked your head in curiosity.

“I… I lost a lot of muscle mass. My body- it isn’t how it used to be,” he frowned, “And I can’t have you lusting over it when it’s not at its peak.”

“What- what do you-?” you stammered, suddenly getting hot.

Jason merely smirked and then continued his push ups.

You watched as his developing muscles rippled, a thin layer of sweat making his skin glisten in the light. It was amazing how he had progressed so much in such a short period of time. You guessed that he must have just been occupying his days by working out.

No wonder he’s been asking for seconds.

“Enjoying the view?” Jason breathed, pausing with his arms straightened, his head angled upwards towards you.

“No, shut up,” you looked away.

“Here, be useful,” he started, “Sit on my back.”

“What?”

“I’ve gotten used to my own body weight, I need extra resistance,�� he elaborated, “Come on, sit on my back.”

“But it’s all sweaty,” you whined, pretending to protest. Definitely pretending- for the sake of your own dignity.

You got up and went over towards him anyway.

Carefully, awkwardly, you sat on his back as you would a park bench. You rested your palms flat against his sticky skin to stabilise yourself. Suddenly, he dipped down without warning, earning a soft squeal from you.

“Fuck, you’re heavy,” he strained, but continued to do the push ups. He was shakier, struggling with the weight, and after twenty-five, he paused. “Okay, I think I’m done.”

But before you had the chance to get off him, he suddenly stood up, throwing you off his back to have you fall on the floor on your ass.

“Jason, you assho-” you clapped your hand over your mouth, realising what you had just said.

Oh, no. Oh, fuck.

He stood towering over you, his jaw clenching as he stared you down with his cold, blue eyes.

“I’m so sorry! I forgot! It was a reflex and-”

“Whatever. I don’t care anymore,” he rolled his eyes, reaching for his bottle.

You blinked. Then scrambled to your feet.

“You don’t care anymore?” you repeated slowly.

“I don’t care if you call me that,” he huffed.

That made your heart swell and melt at the same time.

“I got used to your voice,” he mumbled, expression changing as he looked away. He frowned, as if he was angrily staring at a distant object.

You had just guessed that he didn’t like to be called his name because of a sense of familiarity, but now you were thinking that there was much more to that than what you had originally thought.

“So, I can call you… Jason?” you tested.

“Yeah, call me whatever you want,” he sat on his bed, looking up at you.

You smiled, thankful that you had finally crossed that bridge. “You know, I could get some workout stuff for you? Weights, bands, that bar thing that you can put at your door frame for pull ups…”

“You’d like to see that, huh?” he smirked.

“You flatter yourself too much,” you scoffed.

“How was Hawaii?” he changed the subject all of a sudden.

“It was fun. Beach was great, locals were great, loved the vibe- what are you doing?”

Jason had stood back up and started to walk closer and closer to you, getting all up in your space like a predator finally cornering its prey. You kept on taking steps back until your ass hit the edge of the desk.

Nowhere else to run, your heart started hammering. He leaned in, his hands resting on the desk on either side of your body, trapping you against the table and himself. You looked up and gulped. You could almost feel the heat radiating from his bare skin.

“Are you afraid of me?” he muttered lowly.

“Why would I be afraid of you?” you whispered.

“You tell me,” he said.

“Well, I’m not afraid of you,” you stated.

“Oh really?” he raised an eyebrow. Then, you felt his hand grip your wrist tightly, pressing down on your skin with his fingers. “Your pulse is very fast for someone who’s not afraid of me.”

“It’s because you’re all up in my space!” you argued.

“Didn’t look like you mind when your friend,” he snarled the word, “was all up in your space.”

“My friend? What- oh,” you widen your eyes in realisation, “You mean Alex.”

“Is that his name?”

“Alex is just a friend, nothing more. He’s just someone I’m close to,” you reassured him.

Which then made you think about why you were reassuring him.

“Oh, you were definitely close to him,” Jason growled.

“Wait- are you… jealous?” a smile creeped your lips.

He scowled at you for a few moments, and you could see the little tics in his expression that said he was annoyed. The flared nostrils, the muscles of his jaw clenching and unclenching, the very slight twitches at the corner of his left eye.

“No,” he finally said, taking a step back from you. “I’m going to shower. Since you couldn’t stop staring at me, the invitation is still open for you to join.”

“You know, I’m starting to think that maybe I prefer it when you were broody instead of this. Please go back to your depressive mental state,” you sarcastically replied.

Jason barked out an actual laugh. Though his laugh was odd, like someone who’s only now discovering that humans were indeed capable of laughter, you found comfort in it. It was no longer hysterical and devoid of humor. He was getting better, learning to embrace a connection with someone, and it made you extremely happy.

“Maybe I should,” he answered with a cheeky glint in his eye, “Then that way you can give me more sponge baths.”

He left you alone in his room, flushed and at a loss for words.

***

“I find it very odd that people would yell ‘Batman!’ when they realise you’re there,” you rambled while climbing out of the Batmobile.

You were absolutely drenched from the downpour that had been going on all night. It was 4 am on a friday night and you had just returned from patrol.

Bruce took off his cowl immediately, revealing tired eyes despite the relatively slow night.

“It’s like they’re saying ‘Look at me! I’m here! Please knock me out or hang me upside down from the-’ Bruce?”

Bruce had stiffen, staring at something behind you. You turned around and was shocked to see Jason in the mid-distance, sitting on the ground outside the black box that was his room, leaning against the cool metal.

He himself was staring intently at Bruce, not even sparing you a glance.

You looked back and forth between the two men, sensing a high tension silent conversation.

Then, Bruce’s eyes relaxed and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards ever so slightly in that hardly-there-Bruce-smile.

He gave Jason one stiff nod of understanding, then walked away to the computers at the other end of the cave, leaving you alone with his son.

Jason relaxed as you walked over to him, wringing your hair to squeeze out all the excess water.

“Aw, you waited up for me,” you teased, standing in front of him with your hands on your hips, grinning away.

“Fuck off,” he snorted, “I was bored.”

You noticed him clenching his jaw as he looked at you from top to bottom, eyes lingering longer on the ‘R’ on your left breast.

Ah, it was his first time seeing you in your uniform.

His uniform.

Suddenly, you felt like an imposter in those colors and had the strong urge to rip the uniform off.

You wanted to say something, but Jason beat you to it.

“There were times in that shit hole where I wanted to burn that uniform off my skin,” he grit, “Kept on thinking to myself. I wish I never became Robin. I wish I never met Bruce Wayne.”

Your heart shattered at his confession. It was extremely rare for him to bring up anything related to his two year torture, and the previous times were never in such detail.

Realising you needed to say something, you opened your mouth. “I’m so-”

“Don’t,” he cut you off, “You don’t have to say anything.”

Yes, sometimes you knew that he just wanted you to listen.

You nodded silently and went to sit next to him on the floor.

“It… suits you,” he forced out.

“Hmm?”

“The uniform. It suits you. More than it ever suited me,” he grumbled.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I think your ass would look quite nice in green,” you joked, nudging his shoulder with your own.

He chuckled deeply, nudging you back even harder- hard enough for you to lose your balance and topple sideways, earning another breathy laugh from Jason.

***

Another month passed by, and you found yourself falling deeply for Jason- much to your dismay. You knew Jason wasn’t ready for any kind of intense emotions, and that it would take a very long time before he was.

So you swallowed your emotions down, stifling them and hoping it would go away.

The two of you had developed a pleasant friendship, often bickering and joking around, with Jason teasing you about your obvious physical attraction to him.

He also now occasionally waited outside his cube for you to come back after patrol, never really venturing too far from it, and still avoiding contact with both Bruce and Dick. Only you and Alfred had the privilege to speak to him.

Even then, sometimes you would visit his room but only getting a “I’m not feeling it today. Please leave.”

Understandingly, you would nod silently and leave him alone. You knew he still had his bad days, sometimes not eating his meals.

But mostly, he was getting better, both mentally and physically.

With nothing much to do the whole day, Jason was now obsessed with working out and bulking up. He now had a few simple equipment in his room- mostly weights.

You figured that it was a coping mechanism for him, a healthy outlet to channel all his rage and negative emotions into.

But come on. He was getting even hotter and it was making it extremely difficult for you to stop yourself from checking him out, fantasizing about him when he wasn’t around. Still, you couldn’t complain. Even though he hadn’t reached Dick’s size yet, he was very near to it, and his naturally bigger body frame and build made up for the still developing muscles.

Hell, he was now sporting a six pack.

But you knew that he was still not as well as you hoped he would be. The bloodshot eyes he had was proof that he doesn’t sleep well- and you soon found out why.

It was a little past midnight on your night off from patrol, and you were using your break in the best way you could think of- by sleeping. Something woke you up that night.

A soft knock on your door.

You frowned, eyes still closed, wondering who it was.

Bruce would usually knock twice. Strong, clear, and with purpose. Dick would start pounding rapidly on your door, annoying you intentionally. Alfred would give three soft knocks followed by a ‘Miss?’

Your eyes flew open. There was only one other person in the manor.

Throwing your covers aside, you jumped out of bed and rushed to the door to open it.

Jason stood outside your door in the dim lights of the hallway, frowning and running his fingers nervously through his messy dark hair. He was wearing a t-shirt with boxers, standing awkwardly.

“Jason?” you hated how your voice sounded so sleepy. You cleared your throat. “Are you okay? Would you like to come in?”

He nodded silently, and you made way for him to enter before closing the door behind you.

“Sit on the bed,” you told him while jumping back into yours, sitting up cross legged.

The bed dipped when he sat on it, copying your motion and crossed his legs.

You waited for him to say something, your eyes straining to catch his in the dark. But he just remained silent, staring into space and avoiding your eyes.

“How did you know this was my room?” you asked, starting with a light topic.

“Only one that was locked. I already know where everyone else sleeps,” he explained.

“That’s right,” you realised, “I tend to forget that you’re probably even more familiar with the manor than I am.”

“Did you know there’s an old dumbwaiter in Bruce’s room?” you saw him smirk from the shadows that was casted on his face, “I used to hide in there, waiting to catch him off guard.”

“What? Why?”

“Dick and I, we had a bet,” he recalled the memory, “Whoever gets to surprise Bruce first would owe the other a special favor. Only rule was that we had to have it on video as proof.”

You appreciated that moment, the first time he ever spoke about both Dick and Bruce as a fond memory.

“I won, by the way,” he continued, “But- I forgot to press record on my phone.”

“Oh, no,” you groaned for him.

“Yeah, and Dick refused to believe me,” he chuckled, “That old man didn’t want to admit it either. But I swear- the look on his face when I jumped out while he and some model were going at it- priceless.”

Your jaw dropped, and then you burst into a fit of laughter, tears filling your eyes.

“You- you- you jumped out on him while he was having sex?!” you squealed.

“Yeah,” he grinned, “I didn’t even care that it sort of scarred me, because I managed to catch Batman off guard.”

The both of you laughed, his deep voice mingling with your own on that quiet night.

“I’m glad you’re here, Jason,” you smiled warmly at him.

But then, his smile fell.

“I hate my name now.”

“I’m sorry,” you began, “You said it was okay to call you that, so I-”

“No, it’s fine,” he started running his fingers through his hair again, “It’s just- I don’t know.”

“You can tell me anything,” you reassured, “It won’t leave this room. I promise.”

He looked at you, worry in his eyes. “Okay. Fine. Yeah.”

You waited for him to begin.

He took a deep breath. “I’ve been having nightmares. Almost every night. It’s always the same one.”

“You want to tell me about it?” you prompted him after waiting for him to continue.

“I hate my name because he said it a lot. Joker,” he scowled, “After repeatedly burning my skin for my name, it’s like that’s all he said. In that annoying, high pitched, sing-song voice of his. Jason, Jason, Jason. It made me hate my name. It made me hate hearing it.”

“I- I didn’t know how much time passed when I was in there,” he continued, “But, fuck. It was- it was hell. And the worst part was that I kept on waiting for Bruce. Waiting and hoping for him to find me and save me. I was so desperate. You- I-”

He choked on his words. His eyes were squeezed shut and his lips tight.

You wanted to reach out to him, hug him, tell him that everything was okay now. But you didn’t. You waited for him to collect himself so he could finish telling you his story, just like how he wanted to.

“Anyway, I- despite all that,” he sighed, “That was the only thing that kept me sane. I kept on clinging onto the hope that he was out there, searching. And that helped for a while. Until- until that happened.”

He was breathing heavily now, fidgeting more. Jason was definitely getting increasingly agitated the deeper he went.

“Fuck,” he breathed, “Fuck.”

The moment you realised he was crying was when he let out a sniffle. You automatically took his hand in yours, squeezing it as a form of comfort.

“It’s okay,” you told him, “You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready.”

“No,” he shook his head, “I need to. I have to. I can’t take this anymore. Keeping everything in, I feel like I’m about to fucking explode.”

“Okay, then take it slow,” you said, “No rush. Anytime you’re ready.”

He nodded, eyes still closed, as if he was afraid of letting you see him cry.

“One night,” he began, “I think- I don’t know what was different- but I think something went wrong for him. Or right? That’s how it was. Tormenting me was fun, but it was also an outlet for him. But at the same time when he was happy, he also tortured me. He came to me, and- injected me with some sort of drug. That never happened before. He made sure that my head was clear whenever he hurt me so that I could feel everything he did.”

“But- he did- and- immediately, I felt weak,” he continued, “I mean, I was already weak. But my head. It was cloudy. I remember everything clearly, but it was like my brain couldn’t process it, couldn’t communicate with my body. I felt like I was looking out through a window that was my eyes- like I was in someone else’s body, experiencing someone else’s moments.”

“He released me,” Jason’s voice was now barely a whisper. “He released me from the ropes, and I fell to the floor. And then he- he- fuck.”

He let go of your hand and started pulling at his hair, rocking back and forth on your bed. He was sobbing now, his shoulders jerking up in sharp intakes of breaths. The only thing you could do was to stay silent and hold back your own tears.

You rested your hand on his knee, giving him a textile connection with reality so he doesn’t fall into his own thoughts.

“You- he- he- ruh- ruhp-”

Your heart sank to your stomach in horror as you realised what Jason was trying to say. It was as if you were plunged into icy water, chills running down your spine at the true revelation of what he had gone through in that cursed cell.

“Oh, no,” you breathed.

“He pushed me down,” he choked, “Pushed me down and climbed on top. I- I couldn’t even fight him. I was- I was conscious the whole time and I knew what was happening, but I couldn’t fucking do anything.”

Your tears were falling down now, both at the sight of Jason looking so vulnerable and fragile, and at his confession. Not being able to help yourself, you threw your arms over his neck and crashed into his hard body, burying your face in the crook of his shoulder.

His arms immediately wrapped around you, clutching you so hard it was painful as he buried his own face into your shoulder.

“And he kept on saying my name,” he said in muffled cries, “Jason, Jason, Jason. The whole fucking time. And- and I knew. He didn’t do it for pleasure. He did it to torment me. He- he didn’t even- he didn’t even finish.”

Jason sobbed into your skin for the next few minutes, his tears soaking through your night shirt. “But I did. Even though it was painful. Fuck, the pain was worse than anything he had ever done to me before. But- he- I- I fucking came.”

The both of you were sobbing now, his ragged breaths mingling together with your own on that quiet night.

His grip on you was tight, as if he thought that if he let go, you would disappear. So he clung onto you with all his might to keep you there with him as he recalled the horrific events.

“That's what broke me. I was so disgusted with myself. I hated myself. And he- he saw everything and- and laughed. He laughed so hard, I thought he was going to choke and die. I’ve never seen him laugh like that. And I remember every single fucking moment of being helpless on that fucking floor while he- fuck. Fuck.”

“And then he left. He left me on the floor bleeding and I never saw him again. And I went fucking insane. I tried to kill myself so many fucking times. So many times, I lost count. That’s what I dream about every night. His laughs, and his ‘Jason, Jason, Jason’.”

And that was that. That was the story.

The end of Jason Todd.

The both of you cried long and hard that night in each other’s arms. Eventually, you both lied down on the pillows together, underneath the covers.

“Please don’t tell Bruce,” he whispered to you.

Your head was on his chest, his big arms wrapped around your waist, your legs tangled with his.

You smiled at that. Even with the trauma, even with the sense of abandonment he felt, he still wanted to protect Bruce from knowing the truth.

Because the both of you knew that the truth would kill him.

“I promise,” you whispered back.

And then the both of you fell asleep together.

***

“Has Jason been sleeping in your room with you?” Bruce asked you on one fine Saturday morning at breakfast.

It had been about a week and a half since the first time Jason knocked on your door and poured out his feelings to you.

“He gets nightmares,” you tried to explain.

He thought that if he told you everything, the nightmares would stop. But it didn’t. But he then realised that the only thing that made it better was sleeping by your side, having someone there to wake him up from living his own hell in a loop.

“And do the two of you… Just sleep?” Bruce frowned.

“Yes!” you widen your eyes in horror at the insinuation. “Bruce! Come on!”

“I know you have feelings for him, and I’m sure he does for you as well. But I don’t think something like that is what Jason needs right now,” he stated.

“Yes, I know!” you groaned at the thought having that kind of conversation with him, “Jesus, Bruce. I know. I’m just there to wake him up or help him fall back asleep. Nothing more.”

Bruce nodded, deep in thought. “Has he… told you? About what happened?”

You pursed your lips. “Yes.”

“You’re not going to tell me?”

“No.”

“Hmm,” his frown went deeper. “I understand. He will tell me when he is ready.”

“Exactly,” you smiled, hiding the fact that Jason may never tell Bruce what happened. Never the full story.

“He still hasn’t left the manor?”

“No,” you sighed, “I asked him if he wanted some fresh air. Just outside the main door, not even going down the steps. But he refused. Told me to, and I quote, ‘Fuck off’.”

“Well, he’s only just left the cave, and it’s just to your room,” Bruce thought out loud, “It’s still progress. Especially since he’s been talking to you about the past.”

“He only spoke about it one time,” you said, “And then never again.”

“I see,” he hummed, “And you’re okay with him sleeping with you?”

“Next to me, Bruce, sleeping next to me,” you corrected.

“Yes, and you’re okay with that?”

“Yeah, it’s all good,” you assured him, “I can kick him out any time I want- but I don’t want to. He looks like a lost puppy sometimes.”

“An angry lost puppy.”

You chuckled at that and couldn’t agree more.

*** While Jason got the sleep he needed when he was next to you, it was counterproductive on your end. You had never been with anyone before, and definitely had not slept on the same bed with another man.

So to feel his body heat and breaths against your skin, his occasional light snores, it made your mind go on hyperdrive.

Most of the time, the two of you would just lie down, your back against his front, or your backs against each other, or both on your backs just staring at the ceiling- and talked. You would be the one talking the most, of course, about anything you could think of. You would tell him about your day, your patrols, something you read about online, or the current news.

But that one particular night during week three of him sleeping next to you, the two of you were silent. It wasn’t an awkward or uncomfortable silence, but the kind of silence that was pleasant and was better described as a peaceful quiet.

You had your back pressed against his front and his arm was lazily draped over your waist. It was a cold night, and you were wearing just a tank top and pyjama shorts, snuggling under the covers that went up all the way to your nose.

Shifting a bit while snuggling comfortably, you pressed yourself against Jason’s body to get more of his heat. But then, you were met with something poking against your lower back.

“Ngh, please ignore that,” Jason huffed.

Oh.

For some reason, you forgot that Jason was a physically healthy male who was capable of having sexual thoughts and feelings. All this while, you thought you were the only one.

“Are you- uh- is that- uh-” you stuttered, feeling your face flush with heat.

Feeling your body suddenly alert with excitement.

“Yes, it’s my fucking penis,” he grit almost angrily, “What, never heard of an erection before?”

“Of course I have!” you argued rather defensively, “It’s just- I’m surprised, that’s all.”

“Why?” he demanded, “You didn’t think I could get it up or something?”

“No, of course not!” you denied, “It just didn’t cross my mind, that’s all.”

A pause. Then-

“Well,” he sighed, “You wouldn’t have been wrong.”

Your mind blanked for a second.

“What do you mean?” you asked softly.

“It’s my- fuck- it’s my first time,” he confessed.

“Your first time getting an erection?” you gasped.

“No, you idiot,” he snapped, “It’s my first time getting hard since… since… then.”

Oh. Oh, you were an idiot.

“It’s just- after that- even when I was downstairs, alone and safe, I- I couldn’t,” he told you, “I kept on thinking back to that time and- and I couldn’t. I found it disgusting.”

And immediately, like someone doused you in cold water, any feeling of horniness you had when you first felt his erection against you disappeared. You just felt so sad for him, but also angry. Angry that he had to go through all of that, and angrier that there was nothing you could do about it.

“So, why do you think you’re getting it now?” you asked. Perhaps talking about it in an objective manner would help guide him through his thought process.

“Are you kidding me?” he scoffed, “You’re fucking pressing your ass against my dick, what did you think would happen?”

“Wait, what?” your eyes widen, “You’re hard because of me?”

“No shit,” he said, “You’re hardly wearing any clothes, too.”

You shouldn’t feel happy due to the circumstance and context, but there you were ecstatic that he found you attractive enough to pop a boner after so long.

“Fuck,” he sighed, suddenly pressing himself closer to you.

His hand that draped over your waist when to actually grip it. Then, then, he grinded his hard on against your ass.

“Mmm,” he rumbled deeply, “Feels good.”

There. That was it. You were once again flooded with the feeling of heat that pooled at your stomach, a tingling sensation started at your core. Feeling hot despite the low temperature of the night, you clenched your thighs together, needing the slight pressure.

“Yeah?” you whispered.

“Yeah,” he grinded on you again, and then unexpectedly let out a chuckle.

“What is it?” you smiled, loving it whenever you heard him laugh.

“I thought… For the longest time, I thought I was broken. That he broke me,” he revealed, “I thought I needed to get all Wingardium Leviosa on this little fucker.”

“Oh my God,” you laughed and groaned at the same time, “You’re so fucking embarassing.”

He laughed along with you and continued. “But now I’m hard and- and horny. You made me feel like I’m normal again. Like I’m sixteen again, and getting horny over everything.”

Sometimes, we take the normal things for granted. Food, shelter, clothes. In this case, it was a goddamned boner. In a way, Jason’s erection was symbolic- however funny it sounded. Getting your sexual appetite and need back after being so traumatised was a massive leap for many people who had experienced the same thing.

It meant that Jason was healing well.

“Does that make you happy?” you asked.

“Not particularly,” he admitted, “But I’m definitely not sad either.”

“That’s good enough for now, then,” you beamed.

“Yeah,” he breathed.

Another few moments of silence. You could feel it, his cock pushing into you. However tempted you were to push back and grind, you held yourself still.

“Uh, Jason?” you voiced.

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to like, take care of it?” you asked, “I mean. My bathroom is available. Or- there are many empty rooms.”

“No,” he simply stated.

“No?”

“No.”

“It’s kinda poking into me.”

“Just ignore it.”

“Ignore it?” you gaped, “How can I ignore it? You’re literally pressing it into my ass.”

“Well, then do you want to take care of it?” he teased.

You couldn’t argue back. “Fine, I’ll ignore it.”

He chuckled. “I’ll turn around.”

When he made the movement, you suddenly grabbed him by the wrist. “No, it’s fine. Stay here.”

You expected him to tease you like he usually would, make a crass comment, or even a ‘fuck off’.

Instead, he wrapped his arms around you again in silence, and the both of you drifted to sleep.

***

“Do you think this color suits me?” Natalie asked, holding up a floral red dress.

The four of you were at the mall in Diamond District. Now that high school was over, and everyone would be going off to separate colleges in a few months, you tried to spend time with each other as much as you could.

“Any color suits you, Nat,” you rolled your eyes, “You’re hot stuff.”

“Jesus, it’s like you’re shoving it in our faces at this point,” Sarah added, flipping her brunette hair to the side, tight curls flowing down.

“Aw, you guys,” Nat pretended to tear up, “I’m gonna miss you guys so much!”

“Not again,” Alex groaned, “We’ve been through this so many times.”

“I’m gonna be so miserable without you guys,” Natalie continued on, ignoring Alex’s interruption.

“I don’t know,” Sarah shrugged, “I think I’d enjoy New York. I can have pizza parties with the rats in my overpriced apartment.”

You chuckled at Sarah’s joke. Everyone was leaving Gotham except you. Deciding to continue with Robin, you opted for Gotham University- prestigious, old, and most importantly, close to home.

Your phone dinged in your pocket. You opened it to find texts from Dick.

Dick: OH MY GOD. Dick: I’m at the Manor. Dick: Was going to the Cave gym to work out. Dick: AND Dick: JASON IS HERE!!! WHAT DO I DO?!?!

That was new. Jason would usually just use whatever basic equipment he had in his room to work out. The fact that he was at the Cave’s sparring area where all the other fancier work out equipment were was out of the ordinary.

You: Just go. See if he reacts. If he suddenly stiffens and just stay there not doing anything, then leave. If he continues on, then it’s okay to stay- but don’t initiate anything! Dick: OKOKOK

You waited anxiously for Dick’s update. All four of you were now walking towards the food court, but you hardly listened to their bickering. Forty-five minutes passed before Dick texted you again.

Dick: OMG HE TALKED TO ME You: What did he say? Dick: He asked me to pass him his towel. You: That’s all he said? Dick: IT’S PROGRESS OKAY!!

Dick was right. It meant that Dick was now the third person Jason had spoken to. Adding another person to his list of contacts was definitely progress.

You were happy for him.

You:Is he still there? Dick: Nah he left Dick: But WOW he’s looking good. He must have been really going at it. I think he might get bigger than me soon You: All he does now is work out. He’s obsessed. Dick: Yeah I can tell

You decided to leave it at that for now and try to concentrate on your friends, but Dick sent another message.

Dick: ARE YOU TWO HAVING SEX?!?!

You spat out your drink, earning weird looks from everyone.

You: DICK!!!! WTF NO!!

Dick never replied.

***

“Can I ask you for a favor?” Jason asked, his voice breaking the silence of your dark room. The two of you were on your bed, lying down and staring at the ceiling.

“Of course,” you said. It didn’t matter to you what Jason asks for. He hardly ever asked for anything.

“Could you… Take me out tomorrow?” he requested, “If you’re not doing anything else, that is.”

“Uh, sure!” you nodded, surprised. “Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere,” he shrugged, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah, okay,” you hesitated, “But- are you sure? I mean, you don’t have to go so far so quickly. Maybe you should start with just going to the backyard?”

“No, I’ll be fine,” he insisted. “I’m not a kid.”

“Okay then,” you agreed. “Tomorrow.”

You kept on glancing anxiously at him the next day as he climbed into the passenger seat of your car. He was quiet, but looked perfectly fine.

Switching the engine on, you drove out of the garage and out the large automatic gates. Trees soon surrounded the lonely road on both sides as you descended downhill into town.

“So where are we going?” he asked.

“I thought Robinson Park would be nice,” you said. It was around three in the afternoon, yet Gotham was dark as though the day was ending. It was cloudy, skies grey and wind blowing.

“You’re taking me to a park?” he scoffed.

“It’s more quiet than anywhere else,” you reasoned with him, “Less people. Spacious. Lots of greenery.”

“Whatever.”

Reaching the parking space of the park, you noticed that there were a few cars. Mothers and nannies liked to bring children out to the park around that time. Joggers and teens, college students and retired elderly seeking a little escape from the high rise buildings of concrete and glass.

You turned the engine off and proceeded to open the door, only then noticing Jason stiffening. Looking over to him, you saw that his eyebrows were pulled down in a deep frown, his jaw clenched, his hands in fists on his knees.

You didn’t say anything or make any comment. Leaning back into your seat, you waited until Jason was ready.

About five minutes passed before he took a deep breath, gave you a nod, and then opened his door.

The two of you walked along a path at the park, going deeper inside and further away from your car. There were a few joggers around, some tourists, and some teens taking photos. You saw a group of kids in the distance playing frisbee, and the others were walking their dogs.

An empty bench stood in the middle of the park, overlooking a clearing. You headed there, Jason following closely behind.

“It’s a bit gloomy today,” you pouted, “As if Gotham could be anything other than that, of course.”

You looked at Jason.

He looked like a scared dog being brought out for the first time.

His jittery knees were bouncing rapidly, his wide eyes were darting at every movement, his forehead was covered with a thin layer of sweat, and his breathing was heavy.

“Woah, woah,” you reached out to him, putting an arm on his back. “It’s okay. I’m here. Just listen to me talk, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he gulped.

“Try to calm your breathing,” you instructed, “Deep breaths, Jason. In… out… In… Out… Yeah, see that’s great.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, now calmer. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you smiled warmly, “You’re doing just fine.”

“No, I’m not,” he strained, “I feel like everything is too big. Too vast. The fucking sky looks like it’s going to crash down on me and at the same time suck me up into a void.”

“And despite all you’re feeling right now, you’re not breaking down or anything, are you?” you tried, “You’re okay, Jason. This is progress.”

“I guess,” he sighed, “I’m just- I’m so used to having four walls and a ceiling. Now everything feels too big.”

“I understand,” you empathized, “Whenever you want to go back, just say the word. Or we can even just go and sit in the car. No problem.”

“Yeah, okay, let’s do that,” he stood up.

The walk back to the car was faster.

“Fuck, I’m so fucking pathetic,” he said, running his fingers through his hair.

“No, you’re not,” you reassured him, “That was great, Jason. Come on, it was your first time outside in two years and a half. Cut yourself some slack.”

“I’m so fucking broken,” he choked.

“Don’t say that,” you scolded, “You’re not broken. And you know what, even if you think you are, we can always fix it. Baby steps. Maybe we can do this once a week. We were out for like, ten minutes? Next week we’ll try fifteen. How’s that sound?”

“Twice a week,” he stated, “I just want to be normal again.”

“Okay, twice a week, then,” you agreed, “We’ll try again in a couple of days, okay?”

“Okay,” he paused, “Thank you.”

“No problemo,” you grinned, “Would you like to stay here a bit longer or shall we go back?”

“Let’s go back.”

“Wanna stop by the diner? You can wait in the car while I ask for a take-away?”

“...okay.”

***

Jason and you had gone out twice more. Once three days after the first time, and the other a week later. The second time he went out, he lasted twenty minutes, though you were sure he was being stubborn on his part. He looked like he was having a heart attack, but he insisted on staying until he hit the twenty minute mark.

The third time, he was much much better. Surprisingly so. The two of you sat down on that bench for half an hour, with you even leaving him alone for a few minutes to get two ice cream cones.

After that, you took him for a drive around the city. He seemed to be more comfortable in the car, so you went all the way from Robinson Park to Diamond District, and back to the manor.

Bruce seemed very pleased with your update, and you swore you could see him actually smile.

“Thank you,” he had told you. “You’ve done more than I could have ever asked of you.”

“It’s no problem, Bruce. Really,” you reassured him.

“I’m his father. He is my responsibility. It’s my fault he’s even in that state. I wish I could do more for him,” he said solemnly.

“The fact that you understand what he needs is more than helpful, Bruce,” you smiled, “Not many parents can do that. You understand and respect him. That’s enough for now.”

He simply nodded.

Ever since your scheduled outings, Jason had become more and more relaxed whenever he was in the manor. He now walked to the kitchen on occasion to mess with Alfred while he cooked meals for him, sometimes sitting in the living room lounging on the couch while reading. Most of the time, though, he was down at the sparring zone of the Cave, working out.

But at night, he would never fail to knock on your door.

And at that particular night, you found yourself in the same situation again while lying down on your side with your back to his front, for the fifth time.

“You officially have to stop calling yourself broken,” you grumbled, “Because that thing poking into my ass is definitely not broken.”

He chuckled lowly. “You complaining, sweetheart?”

Oh, and yes. Jason now had started calling you ‘sweetheart’. Why? You had no clue. It was just a thing that happened. The look on your face when he first slipped it in was probably a sight to behold.

“No shit, I’m complaining, Jason,” you groaned, “You haven’t jerked off, yet? Not even once?”

“Nope,” he popped the P, “I just… I don’t want to… I don’t want to come.”

You sighed, understanding the situation. He had been disgusted with himself because he had ejaculated when Joker… Well, that. You hated to even think about it, so you always shoved the thought away.

“But unfortunately for me, I still get super horny,” he rumbled deeply, pushing his hips into you even more, “So fucking horny.”

“And then I have to suffer,” you complained.

“I can assure you, blue balls are more painful than something poking into you,” he bickered.

“It��s not that…”

“Then?”

“I get horny too, come on man,” you whined, “I’m a hormonal teenage girl. What did you expect?”

“You get horny too?” he whispered after a pause.

“Uh, yeah,” you admitted nervously. Somehow, the mood shifted, and your heart started drumming against your chest.

“Because of me?” he asked.

“Not you specifically, I mean,” you tried to back track, “You’re… Your dick pressing up against me like that, I mean, come on, Jason.”

“Simple question sweetheart,” he told you, “You get horny because of me, yes or no?”

You gulped. “Yes.”

Fuck, why did you say yes? You could have lied. You could have not answered.

“Yeah?” he breathed. You noticed that his hand was now on your hip, right above the waistband of your sleeping shorts, drawing circles onto your skin with his thumb.

You were nervous. The butterflies in your tummy was not helping you calm down.

“Yeah,” you squeezed your eyes shut, as if to protect yourself from anything he had to say.

“Fuck,” he groaned, gripping your hips and grinding his hard on against your ass even more. And did it… Fuck, did it get even harder?

Afraid of saying the wrong thing, and also out of nervousness, you remained silent. Jason’s chest rose and fall against your back, his respiratory rate increasing. His pinky finger slid underneath the waistband, testing the waters before slowly slipping his hand into your pants.

He went in so slowly, as if waiting for you to tell him no, to rip his hand away, to wrench yourself away from him. But you never did, so he went in deeper, caressing the skin beneath your pelvic bone, his heat just burning into you.

“You’re not wearing any underwear,” he commented, voice suddenly husky.

“I don’t wear them to bed,” you informed him.

“You mean to tell me,” he growled, “That all this while I’ve been sleeping next to you and you never had your panties on?”

“It’s more comfortable that way,” you mumbled.

“Jesus Christ,” he cursed. “Thank God I never knew. Would have been torture, and trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”

“Jason,” you gasped.

“It’s true,” he said, “Damn, sweetheart.”

He went lower, closer to your center.

Your core was tingly, small pulses of electricity buzzed through your body as Jason came closer and closer and closer and-

He slipped his hands between your closed thighs and cupped you.

“Mmm,” he moaned softly, “Warm. Fuzzy.”

“Fuzzy?” you laughed, even though you felt like screaming on the inside. Screaming for more.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, burying his face into your nape, taking a deep breath. “You smell nice.”

Oh, shit. You totally forgot about Jason’s aversion to strong smells.

“I’m sorry!” you quickly apologised, “I can switch to an unscented shampoo as well so it wouldn’t be too strong for you.”

“It’s fine,” he said, “I like it on you.”

He ground his hand into your center harder.

“Mmpf, Jay,” you breathed, “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” he confessed, “I’ve never touched a girl like this before.”

“Really?” you widen your eyes in surprise.

“I was kept in a cell for two years, I couldn’t exactly talk, let alone touch, anyone can I?” he quipped.

“Right.”

“Teach me,” he said.

“What?” you whispered despite knowing what he meant.

A pause of silence. A deep intake of breath, a slow exhale.

“Teach me how to touch you,” he purred.

Fuck, you felt like exploding.

“Are you sure?” you asked.

“Yes. If you… If you want to.”

Your mind quickly tried to analyse the situation. Bruce had specifically said that Jason didn’t need any complicated matters in the relationship. It made sense. You didn’t want to overwhelm Jason with any confusion or uncertainty.

But at the same time, you’ve been figuring out how Jason thought, bit by bit. He’s told you many times that he just wanted to be normal again, to feel normal, to do normal things. And this was something that was normal, that he should do, that he wanted to do.

And you knew that he probably would take the rejection even worse.

“O-Okay,” you agreed.

Slowly, you separated your thighs, raising the one on top and hooking it over his legs behind you. Due to your shift in position, you felt the minute Jason’s fingers dip slightly into your folds.

“So, uh, this is my first time with a guy as well,” you squeaked, “But I’ll try to guide you.”

You licked your lips.

“Uhm, well, I guess you can start by running a finger up and down between my- oh! Yes, just like that.”

His middle finger slid down to your opening, and then up again slowly. His movements were uncertain, brushing only slightly against your clit unintentionally.

It was different, having someone else touch you. Somehow, despite the inexperience, it just felt better.

“Holy fuck,” he gasped, “You’re so fucking wet. Do you usually get this wet?”

You felt your cheeks heat up. “No? Yes? I don’t know! I can’t feel it.”

“Shit.”

You let him play with you some more, his fingers sliding up and down, sometimes pressing against your fleshy parts, sometimes circling and gathering your wetness, sometimes just parting your lips. Hell, he even tapped the tips of his fingers on you randomly or brushed into your delicate fuzz. You knew he was just exploring, feeling you for the first time.

And that thought made you smile and sigh.

“Teach me how to make you feel good,” he rasped.

“Uh, so your fingers are wet, right?”

“Yeah. Because you’re leaking all over them.”

“Okay, good. Now find my clit. It’s slightly above your finger, okay, to the left a bit. More. Okay, there! Yeah, right there,” you sighed, finally feeling that delicious pressure.

“Here?”

He tapped your clit.

“Ah!” you moaned, “Yes- but don’t just- nevermind, just gently circle it. Clockwise.”

He obeyed, and hell since when did Jason just obey?

He circled you gently, like you said. But he also went so, so slow.

“Faster, Jay,” you panted.

He went faster, making you groan in pleasure.

“Like this, sweetheart?” he muttered, his voice low and cracking, and sexy, and husky. You’ve never heard him sound like that before, and it drove you wild.

“Yeah,” you breathed, “Yeah, just like that. Fuck.”

“Feel good?”

“So good, Jay. Press a little harder now- fuck. Fuck. Yes, perfect. Just like that.”

The pressure built as his fingers did their magic.

“You- you’re surprisingly good at that,” you stuttered, “You sure- mmm- you sure you’ve never done this before?”

“Despite what you think,” he husked in your ear, warm breath tickling you. “I’m very good at following instructions.”

“I can see that.”

“But I’m also good at improvising.”

“Wha- oh. Oh. Fuck! Jason! Oh my fucking god!”

He started pressing even harder, and going even faster, throwing away the slow build you were going for and instead pushing you towards orgasm fast and hard, as if he was determined to prove something to you.

“Feel good, sweetheart?” he purred, “You gonna come soon?”

“Oh my- fuck, yes! Fuck, don’t stop!”

“You want to come for me?” his deep voice rumbled.

“Yes!”

What the hell? When did he learn how to talk like that?

Because with the mix of his heavy pants, his low voice coaxing you, his barrage of pleasure at your clit, you felt the familiar tightening of your core. You threw one hand back and found his hair. Running your fingers through them, you gripped them tight and pulled.

You pulled on his hair as he forced the orgasm onto you.

“Oh my God. Jason, I’m gonna- fuck- I’m- fuck- ah!”

You moaned loudly as you felt your walls flutter, clenching over nothing as you reached your high.

“O-okay, stop, fuck,” your hand went from his hair to his wrist, stilling him. He withdrew his hands from your pants, and went to grip you tight again by the waist.

“Fucking hell, sweetheart,” he groaned, grinding into you. You pushed your ass back, feeling his hardened length against your flesh in your post-orgasm bliss. “Jesus, that was so hot.”

“That was- yeah,” you giggled, “Fuck.”

His face was still buried in your neck. You could feel his lips on your skin.

“Uhm, I can, you know,” you sputtered, “Try to help you out?”

“It’s fine,” he breathed, body still tight against yours, “Just go to sleep.”

“Are you sure?” you asked again, feeling guilty that he didn’t get off. “I don’t mind.”

“I do,” he said, “It’s okay, sweetheart. That was great. I enjoyed that. I told you, I don’t want to come.”

“Okay,” you sighed.

“Go to bed.”

“Thank you, Jason.”

“Fuck, I’m so horny.”

“Jason,” you whined, “Really, I can help-”

“I’m kidding,” he chuckled, “Goodnight.”

You pursed your lips.

“Goodnight.”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood #robin #jason todd imagine #dont call me that

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andiinaraethtash · 3 years

Text

Chapter Twenty-Three is Up!

Here's the link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/35710339/chapters/93246667

And here's the chapter:

This Is Tragic (We’re All Phantoms)

Notes: TW: major disassociative episode (yes, I know I probably didn't spell that correctly, autocorrect isn't doing its job, don't @ me), discussion of self harm, suicide, and trauma. Boy, do they have lots of trauma (they'll start working through some of it soon). Chapter title from Tragic by Tommee Profit (See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Gem waits until she hears footsteps on the stairs headed up to Sausage’s bedroom before she enters the manor again. She’s really not in the mood to talk to Sausage right now, not in the mood to wrestle with the guilt that wells up every time she sees him.

It’s not just the fact that he nearly killed himself trying to enact a spell he got from one of her spell books, it’s also the fact that she left him out of the loop, and pushed him aside, and didn’t forgive him when she knew it wasn’t entirely his fault.

The key word there being ‘entirely.’ She’s right to blame him, she knows she is, but only for following Xornoth, not for the things he did while under his influence.

Still, she’s picked her battle, and she’s not backing down now. She needs to know he’s not going to hurt fWhip, not going to turn on them again, not going to abandon them for the promise of power. She’d never thought he’d be one swayed by that anyway, but now, now that he already has, it’s hard to trust him again.

fWhip is sitting in one of the two chairs facing the fire when she enters. He doesn’t look up when she enters, and she wonders if he even noticed her enter. She can’t see his face, just his back and shoulders, which, she now notices, are rising and falling at a rapid pace.

Immediately, she’s rushing around to kneel in front of him, and the moment she sees his face she hisses a curse. He’s staring into the fire with a haunted look in his eyes and while he’s breathing too fast, he looks like he isn’t even remotely present, like his mind is far and away and there’s nothing that can draw him back.

Still, she has to try. “fWhip?” She asks softly, then again, louder, “fWhip?”

No response. He’s so clearly gone that it scares her, because what if something’s wrong besides the obvious, what if she’s losing him all over again, whatifwhatifwhatif—

But she shakes those thoughts and goes to stand, wanting to grab one of the healers from upstairs but a hand clamps down around her arm and she almost yelps except that she knows that hand, has held it often enough in her life but especially in the last couple of months that she can recognize it in an instant.

It’s fWhip, clutching her tightly. His hand is shaking and he’s got tears in his eyes and he’s still not blinking, but he’s moved, he knows she’s here.

Don’t go, he seems to say, and she exhales slowly, sinking back down to her knees.

“Where’s your head at, fWhip?” She asks, and for a moment his eyes find hers and something like focus flits through them. That moment ends all too soon, though, and she finds herself trying not to sigh in disappointment as his eyes become lost in the middle distance again. He’s still holding her arm, so she can’t move, and she debates her next move.

He needs help, that much is obvious. But he’s so far away right now, and she doesn’t know how to help him. She’s good at magic, not at understanding people’s minds. She isn’t the one to ask.

But then, who is? She’s tried Katherine, she’s exhausted all of Scott’s knowledge, Pearl doesn’t have anything useful, she’s asked, and she doesn’t trust the vast majority of the Codfather alliance to know anything about this sort of thing… except Pix.

Deciding she’ll write to Pix later, maybe tonight, as it has already been a long day and it’s barely two-thirds over with, she sighs heavily, and eases fWhip forward, off the seat and into her arms, holding him tight as she can, like that alone can keep him from falling apart.

He’s shaking, still, and he doesn’t react to the change in position, but he’s still clutching her arm like a lifeline.

She sits like that, fWhip leaning against her, his face buried in her shoulder, for probably another half hour, before one of the healers comes down and starts when she sees Gem cradling fWhip like this.

Knowing she probably think something’s wrong, she tries for a smile and presses her finger to her lips, letting the healer know to be quiet. She nods, then Gem gestures her over and does her best to stand, still supporting fWhip’s weight. The healer immediately takes up fWhip’s other arm, looping it over her shoulder and winding her arm around his waist.

Now, Gem would love to say she was perfectly fine accepting this person’s help getting a catatonic fWhip somewhere marginally safer than in front of a roaring fire. But she really, really isn’t. This is one of Sausage’s people. The people of the one that betrayed her and her brother, who killed her brother and might as well have killed her for all the pain he caused her.

So if she tugs fWhip a little closer to her side, she thinks she can be excused. She’s wary, and jumpy from being in what her instincts are telling her is an unsafe environment, even though the main danger has been removed now that Sausage is upstairs.

“We need to get him somewhere he can rest,” Gem says after a long moment, and the healer nods.

“There’s some beds in the old library, just across the bridge,” the healer says, and Gem silently thanks her for understanding that she wasn’t comfortable in this house.

Together they make their way over to the old library, which, while no longer in use as a place of trade, is kept neat and clean anyway. It’s kind of hard to manage the door and holding fWhip up, as he‘s still staring into the middle distance unseeingly and barely moving his feet to help them get him across the distance, but she manages somehow. She’s gotten good at that.Managing somehow is all she’s been doing the last six months anyway.

After tackling the stairs, which nearly results in a bad fall, they get fWhip up to the second floor and lay him down on one of the beds that line the walls (a remnant of the times the place was used as a trading hall). As soon as he’s been laid down, Gem shuffles onto the bed, shifting his head so that it’s resting in her lap. She’s not going anywhere.

“If I may, My Lady,” the healer says tentatively, “How is he alive? We were told that he’d been killed months ago… and I feel we owe you an apology for that. We should have stood up to our king before he fell that far.”

Gem sighs and shakes her head, resting her hand on fWhip’s shoulder, reassuring herself with its solidness. “It’s not your fault. What were you going to do? As for fWhip… I’m sure Sir Carlos is planning to make a decree soon to make sure the whole kingdom knows, but he was brought back by the demon, just so he could… well, you can see the scars.”

She gestures with her free hand to fWhip’s hands, which the healer glances down at and pales. “The whole time?” She asks, and Gem nods.

“As near as we can figure. It’s just… in the scramble afterwards, Pearl and Scott, who were responsible for spreading the word, forgot to tell Sausage, who therefore couldn’t tell you.”

“And this led to the king trying to end his life out of guilt?”

“No,” Gem is quick to correct, “He was trying to use necromancy to bring fWhip back, though the spell wouldn’t have brought him back completely, he’d just have been a spirit.”

The healer blinks a few times, rapidly, as she digests that. “Oh.”

Gem sighs again. “I’m sorry. He wouldn’t be how he is now if we’d just told him… it’s our fault. Not yours. fWhip—and probably Sausage—would agree.”

The healer snorts. “Not likely. King Sausage is more likely to blame himself than anyone else. For something like this, anyway. Anything mischievous, he’d pin on the Count.”

Gem laughs a little at that, because that’s accurate, and she smooths fWhip’s hair back. His eyes have finally fallen shut, though he’s not asleep, not yet.

She looks up as the healer shifts towards them like she wants to look over fWhip, and Gem presses her lips together before deciding, “If you want to look him over, I’m not going to stop you. I’m not sure what’s wrong at the moment, I’m just hoping he’ll sleep it off.”

With a light scoff, the healer kneels next to the bed. “One does not simply ‘sleep off’ trauma, especially trauma that runs this deep. But—” she finishes her cursory examination of fWhip’s hands, which is as much as she can see at the moment “—he seems to be healing well, physically at least. My Lady, he needs mind healing, and soon. Otherwise, his mind is going to break under all the stress, especially in light of… recent events.”

That’s a nice way of saying, ‘in light of Sausage nearly killing himself just so he could talk to fWhip.’ Gem frowns slightly. She wonders what Sausage’s goal with that was. To apologize, most likely, but what if he was planning something else? What if he’d been trying to do something stupid, and dangerous, and likely to end both himself and fWhip in such a way that neither of them would have been able to be brought back?

She knows that’s unlikely, but knowing Sausage, he wouldn’t have been satisfied with apologizing, he’d probably have tried something stupid, like trading places with him or tying his spirit to an iron golem or something equally idiotic, and there was no way any of that would have turned out well.

She sighs. That’s assuming she knows Sausage at all. In light of slightly less recent events, namely Sausage betraying them for Xornoth, she’s not sure she really knows him at all. There’s no way the Sausage she grew up with would do what she had just been thinking, but then, she hadn’t thought that he could betray them, either, so now, anything is possible.

She’s just so tired of it all, she realizes. Tired of the betrayal, tired of the constant war and worry, tired of the fear for her life and the lives of those she cares about. She wants things to go back to normal, to how they were before the demon. She knows it’s impossible, she does, it’s just… those were the best years of her life, and she doesn’t want to let them go.

But of course there are several things in the way of things going back to normal, one of which has his head resting on her lap, and another is being tended to by a healer in his own manor.

It’s the latter that’s the bigger obstacle. fWhip wants things to go back to how they were, and she wants their relationship to go back to normal, too, but Sausage? She doesn’t trust Sausage as far as she can throw him, and that isn’t changing anytime soon, even with his near-suicide being taken into account.

fWhip does, though. And that could be a major problem if and when Sausage screws up again.

Because he’s going to screw up again, Gem can feel it in her gut. And that’s why she can’t trust him, because last time he’d screwed up, he’d killed her brother, making her lose the two people most important to her in one fell stroke.

And then when he’d tried to fix it, he’d not only stolen from her to do so, but he’d nearly killed himself trying to make it work. And if she lets him in again, she runs the risk of him screwing up, trying to fix it, and making things worse or tearing yet another hole in her heart when he inevitably gets himself hurt or killed.

And she wants so badly to let him in, she does, but, well, once bitten, twice shy, or so the saying goes. She can’t afford to make the same mistake she did last time. To lose fWhip again, especially because of Sausage, well… she’d probably would follow soon after. It had only been through the support and friendship of her closest remaining allies that she’d pulled through the first time.

The healer’s voice breaks her out of her thoughts. “What are you thinking about, My Lady?”

“Hm?” Gem has to yank her gaze back to the healer, and is mildly surprised to see a look of deep concern on the young woman’s face. “Oh, nothing.”

The healer raises a disbelieving eyebrow. “Pardon me if I don’t believe that, but you were frowning pretty deeply for someone who was thinking of ‘nothing.’”

Gem sighs yet again. She’s been doing that a lot lately, she realizes. She’s honestly not sure why. “It’s just… it’s complicated.”

“You’re not sure what to do about King Sausage,” the healer guesses, and Gem slumps.

“I want to keep him close, especially after what’s just happened, but keeping him close got fWhip killed last time, and we all thought he wasn’t coming back. The fact that he did is a miracle, and we can’t possibly hope for a second one. If Sausage messes up again… if he costs us another friend… I know I won’t be able to live with myself.”

“That’s a big ‘if,’ My Lady,” the healer says calmly, not looking the least bit perturbed that Gem really thinks that of her king. “Knowing him, even as little as I do, I doubt he’s going to make the same mistake twice. Oh, I have no doubt he’ll make mistakes, he’s only human after all, but he’s going to be vastly more careful about who they affect. You’re not the only one who lost someone dear to them, after all.”

She has a point, even if Gem doesn’t want to admit it. As much as she wallowed in her grief, she knew Sausage must have, too, only he had even more guilt to deal with than she did. He’d been the one to take the swing, after all. That must have been eating him alive. The fact that he’d nearly killed himself trying to bring fWhip back was proof enough of that.

So Gem nods in understanding. Whether she likes it or not, she understands where Sausage is coming from, and the moment she admits that to herself, she realizes that she might, maybe, be able to forgive him.

Eventually, at least. Provided he doesn’t intentionally get anyone else killed permanently.

With a weary smile, she turns back to the healer. “Thank you… I’m sorry, I never asked your name?”

The healer smiles. “Aislinn, My Lady. And there’s no need for thanks. I’m just trying to mend what was broken. That’s my job, after all.”

Notes: Aislinn showed up out of nowhere, and took over this chapter (her name is pronounce Ashlyn, btw, I just thought this spelling was a bit more Mythland-esque). It's not my favorite chapter (it gave me fits writing it) but it was necessary, and I'm happy with the end result. Hope you all enjoyed as well!

#empires smp #empiresblr #creative writing #fanfiction #roseblings #tw: dissociating #TW: discussions of self harm/suicide

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