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diremoone · 10 months

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all the good things | geto suguru.

someway, somehow, amidst all of the thoughts of chaos and spiraling ideals of a new “better” world, a light shines through to guide him to a path of true balance. that just so happens to be the second-year transfer from Kyoto, who’s more than happy to put him back on the right path..

warning(s): like 98% canon lmao, female reader, mentions of pregnant! reader towards the end, honestly just wrote and didn’t bother checking if this was coherent but here’s y’all a snack haha, also using new line dividers atm and they’re all all pretty, credits to the maker in the guidelines of my blog

note(s): as much as I wanted to wait I just can’t stand it so here’s this piece published earlier than I want lol. also I didn’t know who to tag for geto so I just went with these lovelies ☺️

You like the Tokyo school much better than the one in Kyoto.

By leaps and bounds actually, you muse.

Everything from the people down to the energy they give off was so much more different — more freeing.

Kyoto was just too much, too old school and too traditional, especially for you. The students there seemed to be more rigid, and the teachers seemed to sneer at you. More often than not for just being a female. That old way of thinking was most likely why they lost the Exchange Event almost every year.

Especially with sorcerers like Geto Suguru on their side.

You transferred to Tokyo during the last half of your first year, which wasn’t something commonplace. That time wasn’t exactly a pleasant time to transfer into. Geto and Gojo, your upperclassmen, had failed a mission protecting the Plasma Star Vessel, Riko Amanai. Yes, Gojo managed to take out the Sorcerer Killer, Fushiguro Toji (who was actually a Zen’in like Naoya) on the mission, but that was only after he had completed his mission — after they had failed to protect Riko.

Now you’re a second-year at Tokyo High, watching the third-year Geto Suguru fall into a spiral of chaos and warped ideals while his friends go their own personal paths and leave him to his own devices, completely unaware in their own worlds that they’ve left a storm brewing behind them, alone and lonely and more than ready to bring down its wrath upon anyone in its way.

You secretly wondered how much Gojo cared for the person who was supposed to be his best friend.

So why you decided to approach said storm to get a (very much well-needed) drink out at the machines while he was preoccupied with his own thoughts, you have no idea. Were you stupid? Yes. Did that matter right now? … Probably.

Your feet carried you to the vending machine, standing beside Geto. You weren’t bothering to look at him out of your peripheral vision, knowing that if you did, the universe would shit on you and he would look up and make eye contact.

Sounds like one of those romance animes or something, you think, nose crunching in distaste. Ew…

“It’s such a shame that you decided to withdraw from Kyoto, [Name]-chan.”

An even bigger problematic ‘ew’ came from behind you. You scowled and turned halfway on your heel, back facing your black-haired upperclassmen to stare at the smirking face of one of the two reasons you’d originally left Kyoto’s school.

You scoff, shaking your head to see Geto’s form standing tall, but still facing the vending machine to get something. That’s all right; you could handle your own battles anyway.

“You really have the audacity to come and talk to me like this? After what you put me through for the last two years? Ah, wait a second. It’s you. So I guess I shouldn’t be all that surprised.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” Naoya shrugged. “All I asked for was—”

“For you to leave her alone, Zen’in.”

Your eyes widen slightly at the sound of Geto’s voice cutting through the air, but it’s only Naoya that scowls and turns his head to face his Tokyo upperclassmen.

And to your absolute surprise, despite Naoya’s scowl deepening to a point where you thought he couldn’t get any uglier, the male pivoted on the ball of his foot and sauntered off.

“Are you alright?” came the instant inquiry.

Geto moving to get a closer look at you made you sweat even more. Just for a different reason.

“I’m fine, Senpai.”

The tall male looks between you and Naoya’s fading figure, eyes narrowing slightly in distaste up until he sees the Zen’in male finally disappear from sight. Even he knows that the Zen’in’s are trash; Naoya just really takes the cake.

“That’s good,” he says.

And when he looks at you with gentle eyes, you’re surprised (and desperately trying to hide it). How instantly his expression and mood changed from mere moments before Naoya showed up to at this moment caught you off guard.

“Did you need something from here? I can get it for you.”

His offer is so sincere, so polite. Such a stark contrast from earlier. Especially with the way the bright smile on his face that reaches his ears and makes the corners of his eyes begin to crinkle.

Instead of the same uncertainty from before your approach filling your stomach, this time feels different. This time, it’s an excited, happy feeling; as if butterflies are rapidly fluttering away in your belly in eager anticipation of something wonderful to come.

“Um, yes,” you squeak, looking to the machines, “I was going to get—”

>>>>

How long does it take for one to fall from grace?

From one who’s fingers touched the pure white clouds of heaven to becoming one who’s knees were stuck deep within the obsidian tar pits of hell, it seemed Geto Suguru was destined to struggle with himself — with his morals and ideals of the world of jujutsu sorcerers and the world of people that lived outside of it — for eternity.

Someone that was so bright, so revered, to fall into a pit of hopelessness?

It must be a lie, others would think.

Watching him sink into the pits of chaos and despair while his best friend rose to a place where he became untouchable to all sorcerers… made something terrible, something spiteful, stir within the depths of your stomach. How much did the white-haired teenager care about the one he called his equal?

But as Gojo became more and more powerful and left his friend behind, Geto too, grew in power in his own right.

And a lot of it was with you.

Weeks of meeting at the vending machines for snacks during training turned into months of sitting on benches and eating lunch together. Even that progressed farther, to him taking you to everything from restaurants to the book store (as much as he’d laugh at you buying manga, he was just as much of a hypocrite with Inuyasha under his arm) to even pretty lakes across Japan, soaring atop one of his flying curses.

Doing things that friends do. That people more than friends also do.

But at the same time, during those times after missions or simply while spending time together in either his or your room, you’d see that malicious darkness fester up. You’d see the way his brows would furrow when you mentioned saving someone or his lips pull down when there’d be a mention of the higher-ups about a mission you’d taken recently that went sour.

In times like these, you wondered if Gojo Satoru really did once know Geto Suguru the same way you knew him now.

“I can see the sweat on your forehead,” the black-haired male jokes. “You shouldn’t think so hard.”

Suguru doesn’t chuckle, but the joking smile of amusement is still there. It’s just a faint one. He’s become less and less of a jokester lately, swimming deeper into the darkness. But for you, you think he tries a little harder to keep the mood and air between you two as light and positive as possible.

(For you.)

“I’ll be sure to remember that,” you quip back, “for the next time I see sweat on your brow for thinking so much. Hypocrite.”

For the first time all day, he finally chuckles.

“Hypocrite?” He muses, placing his cheek on his fist. “Really?”

“Yes!” You toss your hands up in mock frustration. “You heard me, Mr. I-Wanna-Brood-At-Weird-Times-of-the-Day.”

“That’s an awfully long name.”

“It sure does fit though, yeah?”

“So you say.”

The air had been tense and thick since morning, but the two of you were striving to get past it. Well, you slightly more, but the more you tried, the more Geto — ah, Suguru. He already told you to call him that, didn’t he? — seemed to try and help you push for a happier tone.

But the mission Suguru was to be sent on soon had him shut down mentally, closed off from you for the last few days. And today was the day you’d tried to pick him back up out of his crappy mood.

“You sure you don’t want to talk about it?” you ask.

Suguru sighs, then nods his head. “It’s nothing. I’ll be back by the day after, if not sooner.”

You shrug, semi-happy with his response and accepting it. But the other half of you knows something — sees something — behind his pretty eyes that you wished you would have left alone.

But your heart loved to meddle when it wanted to meddle.

And in the future, you hoped Suguru would thank you for that meddling nature.

****

113 bodies were to be found five days after Geto arrived at the village he was assigned to.

But he hadn’t been alone the day he arrived.

Suguru just didn’t know that.

You’d stuck to him like glue. Well, as far back as glue could stretch in that regard. You’d silenced your cursed energy so much that you almost swore you didn’t even have any. And not once did the male turn around to bother to look around or check his surroundings, like he knew he was ever being followed.

Now, all you could do was watch as Suguru stepped into the house that the villagers brought him to. Supposedly, the house contained the reason why the villagers had been dying.

But that gnawing anxiousness in the pit of your stomach told you otherwise. It told you that something was about to go very, very wrong.

Very few people had been able to manage to near-fully suppress their cursed energy aura. It was a talent that could only be managed by a select few, one of which was probably Gojo Satoru himself. But when one successfully did it, all the stories told of how nauseous they felt; how overwhelming the sense of others cursed energy could be.

And it was all true.

Bile and your lunch nearly coated your shoes. Knees too had you let Suguru’s immense, Special Grade cursed energy make you sink to the ground.

It isn’t the same. It isn’t the same. It isn’t the same!

Eyes blown wide as saucers, you realized that something had indeed went very, very wrong inside that house. Because no longer was Suguru’s cursed energy driven by regular means like a regular jujutsu sorcerer.

No. All you could see from his cursed energy was pure malice and raw, unadulterated rage and anger.

Whatever these people said or have done to send him into such fury like this, you couldn’t move, only think. This is the day they die.

Out of the house comes two— No, three. Suguru being one of them. A man and a woman, both with ugly faces and ugly auras you didn’t like.

No wonder Suguru doesn’t like them.

A curse manifests from your friend’s fingertips, and you quickly realize what’s about to happen — the only thing that could happen.

But he can’t just kill them…

You step out of your hiding spot and shout his name. Shock enters Suguru’s eyes. Of course; he hadn’t expected you to be here. But then they glaze over with a mixture of emotions. Disappointment seems to be the most obvious.

Curse you, Yuki Tsukumo, for tipping him over the edge.

“Don’t even try it, Suguru.”

“You shouldn’t have come, [Name].” It sounded like a warning.

You scoff slightly. “And let you do something like this? I don’t think so.”

His eyes narrow. It’s an expression you don’t like.

“You need to leave.”

“So do you, apparently.”

“Don’t be like this, [Name]. Don’t make me hurt you.”

“You wouldn’t anyway. Why let one awful circumstance, one awful event, define the rest of your life?”

“Do you know what they’ve done?” he asks, and you clearly hear the intent of violence behind his tone. You see his jaw clench up and a dangerous fire ignite behind his eyes. “Do you know they have two girls locked up in there, ready to kill?”

“Of course not,” you say, “but you were about to do something that was going to impact your life… Forever.”

“I think I’m ready for that.”

“You’re ready to lose everything?”

“If I must.”

You almost bite your tongue. But you don’t, and speak anyway.

“Even me?”

The thick, black smokiness of one his curses dancing on his fingertips turns to wisps, almost vanishing. You see what the question does to him, so you press farther. Deeper into the unspoken part of you two’s relationship you’d both been afraid to touch on.

Then, he admits something, dipping first into waters that haven’t been treaded into.

“I’d like to think you’d come with me, be by my side.”

Your heart thumps faster. It’s a declaration of many things: loyalty, friendship, trust.

But all your ears hear is a declaration of love.

Because you don’t miss the way his eyes shine as he looks you up and down like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever seen. Like he wants you to actually follow him like he expected, to come with him and step in place next to him like an equal.

If not more than just an equal.

“I can’t do that,” you reply. “You know I can’t, Suguru. And neither can you.”

It’s written all over his face that he doesn’t like your answer.

“And why can’t I?”

“Because you’re better than this.”

…

Was he? What did that mean anyway: being better? After Riko, after his “talk” with Yuki, everything just seemed to collapse around him; everything he knew ripping apart at the seams faster than he could repair them.

Why? Why was he supposed to be better? How could he be better? Did he deserve to even become better?

“Don’t take the easy way,” you tell him. “There’ll never be a right answer, not right now at least.”

“Killing all non-sorcerers seems like a pretty good start,” he replies darkly.

“And how would you even manage that?” you retort. “If that’s the only thing you can stand on, that’s shallow.”

“Then what is the answer, [Name]? Do tell me, please,” he urges sarcastically, rolling his dark eyes. “Is killing every non-sorcerer not worth us jujutsu sorcerers having a chance to live?”

You answer as earnestly as he expects, “I have no idea, but at the moment, it sounds pretty stupid.”

Unfortunately, it takes him much longer than you want for him to put the monster at his fingertips away, for his cursed energy to dip down and go back to the way it was before it spiked in a rage you’d never anticipated to see from him.

The village is scathed with fire and terror: burned buildings with its inhabitants shaken to the core over the consequences of their actions — and what would happen if they tried to put more children in the cage Suguru found them in. It’s not ethical, and surely you’d hear about it from the higher-ups in jujutsu society.

But for the girls wrapped up in yours and Suguru’s arms, you heart and soul knew it was worth it.

Megumi doesn’t get along with Nanako too well. But you’re sure you know why, with his red cheeks and all.

“You think he’ll ever say anything?” you ask your husband.

“Doubtful,” Suguru chuckles, “considering he was raised by Satoru.”

It’s been a rough ten years raising the twins. There’s been a long list of issues, struggles over the last several years that have really put your relationship with your now-husband to the test. From the elders to Suguru’s own conflicting ideals; from his own coping mechanisms to making sure you and his girls are well taken care of, and those are just a few to list. But fixing Satoru and Suguru’s friendship was by far the most difficult thing.

Riko’s death really did change them in the most awful ways.

“Satoru has only gotten crazier over the years,” you hum, agreeing. “I still can’t believe Satoru brought Sukuna’s vessel here.”

“I think you mean stupid, darling,” Suguru chuckles. “And did you know he gave Itadori a second finger?”

“Disgusting! All in true Satoru taste, too.”

“Hey! I can hear you two, you know!” the white-haired male complains.

“Good!” you shout back.

And cue Satoru’s crocodile tears. “Suguru really did marry a witch!”

You feel the veins in your head twitch with irritation. You’d always hated that damn nickname.

You moved to stand up to go and whack the shit out of the manchild, but your husband’s hand settled on your knee. You looked at him curiously, sitting back down.

“Sit,” he says. “Getting worked up like that isn’t good for you right now. Shoko said to keep it minimal for now, remember?”

You snort. “You’ve drilled it into me, Sugu.”

“Good. I’ll be back in a moment.”

His hand rests on your belly for moment, presses a sweet kiss to your forehead, and then stands up to go and beat the shit out of his best friend to defend his wife’s honor.

And maybe to have some fun, too.

taglist: @vagabond-umlaut • @itzmeme • @dellalyra • @torusmochi

#geto suguru #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x you #geto x y/n #geto jjk #suguru geto #suguru x reader #jjk manga #jjk #jjk oneshot #jjk fluff #jjk imagines #geto imagines #geto drabbles #jjk geto #jjk geto suguru

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shinelikethunder · 2 years

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seriously though, it's incredible how much of my "maybe titties again?" goodwill tumblr torched in 30 seconds through obnoxious UX alone:

i am browsing around in the android app. i see a post about disabling some new content filter. this is the first I've heard of it, even though my version of the app does turn out to have it - they put it in place before adding any mechanism to let me know it's there. strike one.

i go to settings > dashboard, the place where all the settings about what you do and don't see are supposed to live. no sign of it.

i go back to the settings menu. squint at it. see an unremarkable entry near the bottom called "Content you see" that isn't highlighted or marked as new in any way (even though i can't even visit anyone's blog anymore without having to actively tap past an FYI tooltip that can't be turned off, every single time, shilling weeks-old gift features that I've already used)

...oh, that's where my custom tag and keyword filters went. no prior indication they'd even been moved!

i have a lot of filters set up. like. a LOT. i now have to scroll past every single one of them, tag AND keyword, uncollapsed and unabridged, just to see whether there's another setting hiding underneath. on mobile! even the desktop site is more polite than this, jesus

just to recap so far: the only reason i even know to look is that i saw a random post about new content settings, and i would never have bothered with all that scrolling if i weren't crusty and paranoid about sites that hide vital settings in the depths of Menu Hell. i mean, that'd be crazy, right? surely listing all those filters with no collapse is a signal there's nothing worthwhile underneath them.

oh no wait, there they are!

it's not just one toggle, it's FOUR new settings!

all of them are set to "hide everything and never even let me know it was there"

even though there is a "blur" option that would've let me know that stuff was being hidden from me without actually showing it

even though i have, in the past, gone into every iteration of the adult content settings that tumblr has ever rolled out and affirmatively ordered it to show me the titties

THEY ARE NOT TOGGLES. EACH ONE OPENS A SEPARATE MENU SCREEN. every single one of the FOUR new settings needs like 3+ taps in the android app just to put it back to normal.

does turning on the catchall "mature content" setting cause the three more specific ones to default to "show" and let me pick restrictions as needed like a goddamn adult? NOPE, i have to go into the stupid little menu for every single one

it's almost like you didn't want me to find them and, having found them, wanted to make me pay as high an annoyance tax as possible to opt out of being nannied

the dashboard banner that eventually shows up, btw, says nothing about having been voluntold for additional filtering, and also just dumps you out in the general settings menu and leaves you to fend for yourself, with no indication of where this shit is hidden or what "this shit" even is. and that's downright friendly next to the link in the announcement post that's apparently been kicking people out of the app and onto web.

this is not how you get a rightfully mistrustful userbase to be optimistic about putting scarlet letters on their own posts. this is not how you convince anyone that it's just a courtesy, not a scarlet letter, or that it won't be used to punish and stigmatize you the instant the wind shifts direction.

in the most practical here-and-now terms, this is also not how you get people to USE the new content warnings on their posts! artists, especially, are hardly gonna jump to flag anything as mature if it means every single one of their followers - regardless of age, previous adult content settings, or whether they're in Apple's walled garden or not - has just been silently opted out of ever knowing it was there. (this goes double if it requires more than one sentence to explain how to reverse it. which this new setting seems almost deliberately designed to do.)

look, i want the titties back, okay? i would be delighted if this turned out to be the first step towards bringing them back. i know Tumblr is under duress from Apple that affects how they can do whatever they're doing here. but the way it's being rolled out sucks needless ass, and if they wanted my hope and trust, well, those are easier to muster up when I'm not going in grouchy about the frustrating UX of an app that's just taken hostile action against my prior explicitly-affirmed preferences.

#hellsite (derogatory)

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saccharinesunsetretired · 5 months

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Wilbur Soot’s Guide to Side Hustles | camboy!Simpbur x camgirl!reader | Part One

My first ever series on this blog yayayayay! Also first time writing Simpbur. No fucking clue when the next chapter will be up though. Could be next week. Could be a month. Life contains many mysteries.

Summary: Wilbur has had a long line of obsessions in his time. In a desperate attempt to get the attention he craves, he starts making content online. When he encounters you at a party full of other creators...well, he's never been good at staying away from things that draw him in, and you may very well be his undoing.

Warnings/Tags: sub!Simpbur, dom!reader. Unrealistic sex/depictions of sex work (although I did try), smut, pegging, general simpbur creepiness, discussions of virignity/consent, low self-esteem and insecurity problems, unhealthy attitudes toward sex. Reader is AFAB and a woman

Word Count: 11.3k

MINORS DNI - BLOGS WITHOUT AN AGE INDICATOR GET BLOCKED, NO EXCEPTIONS

“Hey, creep.”

Wilbur blinked and looked up from his math textbook. Standing right in front of him was a girl from his English course, a girl he’d had a crush on for years. They had never actually spoken. Instead, he’d done what he did best—watched from afar and stayed out of it. For a moment, despite her harshness, he just stared, basking in her attention.

She laughed, and her friends laughed from a few desks away as they looked on. “Do you know how to speak?” she asked.

“Y-yeah,” he said. He could feel his cheeks burning. “What’s, um…what’s up?”

“‘What’s up’?” The girl laughed again. “I’ve seen you hovering near my locker, you fucking pervert.”

Wilbur froze. “I-I wasn’t—“

“Oh, you weren’t?” She leaned against a nearby desk. “Who’s been leaving me notes, then?”

Wilbur wanted nothing more than to curl up in a hole. He had been leaving notes. And admittedly, yes, some of them were creepier than others. The notes ranged from Good luck on midterms :) to You looked so hot in class today. And despite Wilbur’s general lack of self-awareness, he recognized how this looked. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, avoiding eye contact. “I’ll stop.”

“If you don’t, I’m reporting you,” she replied. “Stay the fuck away from me.”

“Got it.” Wilbur had never felt more embarrassed. The other students began to whisper. He could feel a million eyes on him—well, what felt like a million, at least. “I’m so, so sorry.” He stared at his desk as his eyes stung.

“Good.” The girl stood there for another few moments. “It’s a waste,” she said. “You could almost be cute, if you weren’t such a freak.”

Present Day

You could almost be cute if you weren’t such a freak.

Wilbur remembered that, because of course he did. It was the closest he ever got to someone returning his affections. Yes, he knew it was pathetic, but that shred of affirmation went a long way.

He started bettering himself. It started with better hygiene, not wearing clothes multiple days in a row, properly washing his hair. His parents had been bothering him to do that for ages, anyway. He dressed better, tried to socialize. That last point didn’t go too well. He got bullied to the point that he ended up switching schools and had to deal with the fact that at least a bit of it was warranted.

He never saw that crush of his ever again. He developed new ones, new fixations. He didn’t leave notes, though, or stalk anyone or do anything to arouse suspicion. He promised himself that he could be normal, that he would be normal.

Well, perhaps he’d intentionally switched classes a few times to “keep an eye on” some of the people he became fixated on. But was that such a big deal?

And then university came. Loans, what felt like a million dollars in debt. One night, the result of a drunken decision, he filmed himself getting off. On an even more questionable drunken decision, he posted it online to some internet forum he had only heard of in passing. The second he remembered it the next day (after recovering physically a bit from his previous drinking binge), he was absolutely mortified. And yet, to his immense surprise, people liked it. It wasn’t any sort of viral sensation, of course, but he had a decent number of comments when he woke up in the morning. At first, he was put off by the vulgarity of it, but then, he realized that this was how he could get the high that he’d always craved—attention.

He started working on it. Filming videos, uploading photos. Pretty soon, he had an OnlyFans account going. His content was mostly solo stuff, webcam livestreams and private chats with his more dedicated followers. To his surprise, he started making decent money. It was nice to have something to help relieve some of the university debt. Plus, the validation was nice, even if it was only in praise of his body.

Besides, he had long given up the idea of anybody loving him for anything other than that.

Online, his persona was more submissive. It was easier for him, not having to fake confidence that he didn’t have. Instead, he could let himself moan as loud as he wanted, let the microphone pick up every small gasp and whine as he got himself off either with his hands or one of the million toys that he’d purchased since starting the job. The needier he looked, the better.

Then, he found the confidence to do his first collaboration. The benefits of moving to a larger area for university were plenty, but one of the biggest benefits turned out to be the fact that he was far from the only sex worker in the city. He lost his virginity to a girl on a livestream, although she didn’t know it was his first time. At least, she pretended not to know. Wilbur got the feeling that she could tell. Either way, it had made good content. In fact, it had been so profitable that she had invited him to a small gathering of some other creators—sex workers of all types.

And that was how he ended up holding a can of cheap beer in the corner of a party. It was at someone’s apartment, someone he didn’t know and didn’t care to know. The music was far too loud, the conversation too overwhelming. For a moment, Wilbur was sixteen again, sitting at his desk and wanting to disappear.

At least, until you walked in. You, dressed to the nines for a simple house party. For a moment, he locked eyes with you, and he nearly forgot how to breathe. He looked away first, too intimidated, too afraid. However, he watched out of the corner of his eye as you walked into the kitchen to greet the host of the party and grab a drink.

When you reentered the living room, Wilbur’s eyes immediately went back to you. Suddenly, it was as if nobody else was there. He could feel it creeping up on him again, the beginning of an obsession.

Be normal, he reminded himself. Don’t be a creep.

He watched as you greeted almost everyone at the party, flawlessly interacting with the guests. Clearly, you knew your way around. Eventually, you made your way over to Wilbur. He took a sip of his beer to try and appear casual, only to choke slightly.

“Shit, didn’t mean to startle you,” you said, chuckling. “You alright?” You leaned against the wall right beside him, so close that he could smell your shampoo. Or maybe it was perfume. He couldn’t tell, and honestly didn’t care to discern the difference.

“Fine,” Wilbur replied. He laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry. You caught me mid-sip.”

“My bad, stranger.” You offered your hand. “I’m Y/N. And you’re Wilbur, right? Allison told me about you.”

Wilbur hesitantly shook your hand before pulling his own hand away suspiciously quick. “Right, yeah,” Wilbur replied. “We did a livestream earlier.”

“I heard. Apparently it was a hit.” You briefly glanced at your phone before tucking it back in your pocket. “And you’re new on the scene…?”

“Yeah, pretty new.” Wilbur shrugged, trying to play it cool and relax his nerves. “That was my first non-solo livestream.” And my first time having sex ever his mind reminded him. Because people only want you if they can profit.

He shook the thought away as you spoke again. “Damn. Pretty good for your first time, then.” You grinned at him. “Most people don’t get this kind of attention so quickly.”

“It’s…definitely been a surprise to me,” Wilbur agreed. A tense silence passed between you and Wilbur. “So…you also do the whole…camgirl thing?” He thought that he’d heard of you in passing, but before, he’d had no reason to look you up.

“Yeah! Two years and going. Still doing mostly solo stuff, but trying to branch out a little,” you replied. “It can be difficult to know who to trust in this industry, who genuinely has your best interests at heart and who is taking advantage.”

“I bet.” Wilbur set his beer aside. It wasn’t that good, anyway. “Do you like it?”

You shrugged. “Sometimes yes. Other times no. Depends on how creepy people are that day.”

Wilbur laughed, nodding in agreement. He watched you as you took a sip of your own drink, some sort of cocktail. “But you make good money?” he asked. His frenzied mind attempted to come up with some flirtatious lines, but nothing else left his mouth. Considering how cringy all the lines were, it was for the better.

“Decent money,” you replied. “And you?”

“Decent money.”

“Cool.” Wilbur felt slightly uneasy as you eyed him up and down. “Hand me your phone,” you said after a moment.

Wilbur blinked. “Why?” he asked. Despite his questioning, he unlocked his phone and handed it over without complaint.

“So I can give you my number,” you replied. You began entering your contact information. “Not to be too forward, but the main reason I came to this party was just to network. Like I said, I’m branching out, and it seems that you’re doing the same.” You handed his phone back. “Maybe we could collab.”

Wilbur felt his heart hammering in his chest. The room felt like it was spinning, and considering he’d only had half a beer, he definitely couldn’t blame it on alcohol. “Oh. Um…you sure?”

You smirked. “You seem harmless enough, Wil. Besides, we can talk a bit beforehand, get to know each other a little. I’d rather not fuck someone without knowing a bit about them.”

“Fair.” Wilbur very shakily tucked his phone back in the pocket of his jeans. He noticed you starting to leave. “We’ll be in touch, then?” he asked.

You winked. “You can count on it.” Only a moment later, you disappeared into the crowd.

Wilbur left the party immediately after. He saw no point in staying if he couldn’t talk with you more. Even after that sliver of conversation, everyone else at the party seemed even more dull than before. He got into the back of a taxi, trying (and failing) to make his brain go quiet.

All he could think about was your skin under the multicolored lights at the party, the sound of your laugh, the brightness of your smile. He checked his phone, and all he could think about was the fact that your hands had touched it less than fifteen minutes prior. And maybe, just maybe, if he played his cards right he would get to touch you for real.

He imagined your hands on him, fingers curled around his cock. Nobody had ever given him a handjob before, but he (for better or worse) had always had a vivid imagination. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the window of the cab as he imagined it, your fingers on him. He tried to imagine every detail, the texture of your fingertips, the tone of voice you would use as you praised him.

By the time the taxi dropped him off outside his apartment building, he was achingly hard. He made it to his studio apartment, took off his coat and shoes, and immediately sat on his bed. He opened his laptop and searched for your name.

Sure enough, he found your OnlyFans, as well as the few free teaser clips that you’d uploaded elsewhere. There you were, a vibrator on your clit in one clip, your fingers teasing your own nipples as you moaned for the camera.

He slammed the laptop shut. No, he told himself. No more obsessions. If you manage to make this work, all she’ll be to you is a colleague, a coworker.

Don’t be a creep.

He got out of bed and made it to the bathroom, where he stripped, tossed his clothes in the hamper, and turned on the shower. A cold shower would do the trick, he figured. Admittedly, he’d never actually tried the method, but it was the best he could think of. He could scrub away all thoughts of you, get rid of his hard-on, and call it a night.

He shivered as the cold water hit him. It felt fucking awful, cold water on his skin when all he wanted was warmth, but he toughed it out, waiting for his “problem” to resolve itself.

But it was no use. All he could think about was the sound of you moaning in that video, gorgeous lips parted, legs spread. He couldn’t help but wish he could hear you moan for real, not the fake sort of moans that are exaggerated for the camera.

He gave up after a while and got out, wrapping his lower body in a towel as he did a walk of shame back to his bed. He sat on the towel and reopened his laptop.

He found your OnlyFans page, and without thinking, he subscribed. He wasn’t sure if you could see his username if he used his official account, so he made another guest account. You were worth the inconvenience. He started to scroll. He saw a clip of you and Allison, you grinding against her thigh. Another clip showed you edging yourself into oblivion, cheeks flushed, eyes watering. That was the clip he finally settled on.

He edged himself along with the video, stopping whenever you stopped. If your hand stopped moving, so would his. In his mind, it felt almost like mutual masturbation, like you were really there doing this with him. He imagined you watching him, murmuring praise to him.

It wasn’t often that he got off without toys, not because he couldn’t, but because he was almost always filming his orgasms, and thus toys were usually involved. Despite not having any added vibration or stimulation, he came harder simply from touching himself while watching your videos than he had in months.

He laid there afterward, his own cum on his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut. You’re absolutely hopeless, he told himself.

And yet, he couldn’t stop now. Not when you were so close.

It took Wilbur three days to work up the courage to text you, and from then on, conversation flowed naturally. At first, it was small talk about the industry—which people did you know, how many parties had you been to, what sort of content were you interested in making, and on and on and on. Wilbur was honest, admitting his lack of experience in the world of sex work, although he didn’t admit his lack of sexual experience in general. If he did, he might scare you off or make you hesitant, and he didn’t want that.

Conversation then turned to more personal matters. Still surface level, yes, but less detached than talks of industry and networking. He learned that you were a camgirl on the side, using the funds to add to the money you made from waitressing as you saved up. He also learned your favorite restaurant in the city (which he offered to take you to sometime, delighted when you accepted the offer) as well as your favorite bands, books, movies…all the surface-level questions he could hope to get answers for.

To his dismay, two weeks of texts went by without you mentioning possibly meeting up to film together. Just when he thought that was off the table and this would only amount to friendship, his phone buzzed as he was working on an essay. He picked it up, assuming it would be either one of his parents or a spam call, and grinned when he saw your name. You were requesting a FaceTime call, so he quickly smoothed his hair before answering.

“Hey!” you said cheerfully. Wilbur was so relieved to see your face, not just on your OnlyFans, but you, you choosing for him to see you. You looked like you were fresh out of the shower, and he realized quickly that you weren’t wearing a shirt. He couldn’t see anything below your shoulders, but the realization still had him speechless for a moment before he regained his composure.

“Hi!” he said back with equal cheerfulness. “How’re you?” He flicked on another light in his apartment so that you could see him better.

“Good,” you replied. A moment of silence passed. “Listen, are you free Saturday?”

“Yeah, why?” The truth was, Wilbur wasn’t free Saturday. He was in a study group for an upcoming exam, but at that moment, he decided that he didn’t give a shit. He would happily flunk an exam if it meant getting to spend more time with you. He had only seen you in person once, and only for a tiny moment in time, and all he had thought about since then was getting more.

“I have a business idea,” you said. Wilbur watched as you sat down on a couch at what must be your apartment. He caught a glimpse of the top of a towel wrapped around your torso, and although this thought made him slightly disgusted with himself, he couldn’t help but be disappointed. Still, his disappointment only lasted a second once your words sunk in.

“A business idea?” He immediately perked up. “What is it?” His mind went wild with possibilities. A livestream? Some short clips? A whole homemade porn film?

“So…your online persona is more on the submissive side, right?” you asked.

Wilbur’s brows furrowed. “How did you know?” Although the two of you had talked about the industry, bonded over creeps on the internet and the like, the details of your content had gone mostly undiscussed.

He noticed the rather sheepish expression on your face. “I may have done some research,” you admitted. “Is that weird?”

His heart skipped a beat, and he had to fight to keep himself calm. You had done research on him? That meant you had definitely seen some of his content, and not only that, but seeing his content made you more interested. Usually, he wouldn’t have cared. If it were anybody else, he wouldn’t have cared, but you? You, the subject of his obsession (he’d finally admitted to himself that’s what it was), the person he thought of every night before going to bed, thought he was desirable? Maybe not desirable, but at least worthy of seeing, worthy of working with. That was enough.

“It’s not weird!” he reassured you. “I…I may have done the same.” He did not tell you that he had a whole folder on his laptop that was only clips of you, that he’d labeled each video, that he’d gotten himself off to every single one. He definitely didn’t tell you that while filming himself the day prior, he’d been thinking of you the entire time. No, that was too much. That was creepy, that was obsession…but based on your admission, he figured a bit of the truth couldn’t hurt.

Thankfully, you reacted positively. “Thank god,” you said, laughing softly. “I thought you’d think I was a pervert.”

“No! No, of course not,” he said quickly. “I would never.” He settled his back against the headboard of his bed. “So, anyway, what was the idea?”

“Well, as I was saying,” you continued, “your persona is more on the submissive side. I portray myself as more dominant. Very convenient for us, no?” Wilbur nodded along as you spoke. “I was wondering…” You trailed off. “I can be forward with you, yeah?”

“Honestly, I’d prefer it that way.”

“Great! How do you feel about getting pegged?” A moment of silence passed as Wilbur’s brain completely short-circuited. He didn’t realize how long he’d been quiet until you spoke again. “Okay, uh…maybe I was too blunt.” He heard your awkward laugh through the phone.

“No! No, not too blunt at all. I’m fine with it,” he replied. “Yeah, no, that sounds great.” He tried to hide the nervous undertone to his voice. Using toys on himself is one thing; being on the receiving end of someone else’s movements is another. “I’d be down for that.”

“Are you sure?” you asked. “You were quiet for a moment, there.”

“Yeah! Yes, I’m completely sure,” Wilbur replied. “You want to, um, livestream that? Or are we just filming…?”

“Just filming,” you replied. “Having sex live is way more complicated. This way, we can try a couple different angles to see what looks best on camera.”

“Right.” Wilbur took a deep breath. “That sounds good. You said Saturday?”

“Saturday, yeah,” you responded. “And I was thinking we do it at my place. No offense, I’m sure your setup is nice, but I’ve been in the game a bit longer. I’ve probably got nicer gear.”

“That’s great. Sounds good.” Wilbur’s nerves kicked up a few more notches. He was going to embarrass himself, he just knew it. He was going to walk in, immediately get hard just looking at your setup (which was already somewhat familiar to him) and look like a loser. He tried to shove that thought away.

Thankfully, it seemed that you sensed his discomfort. “Listen, uh…I know that you’ve only done something like this once,” you said. “If you ever change your mind, you can leave. I won’t judge you for that, even if we’re in the middle of filming. Consent rules don’t magically go away when there are cameras rolling.”

Wilbur’s heart thumped in his chest. You were smiling warmly at him over FaceTime, and he wanted nothing more than to be there with you. His thoughts weren’t sexual, at least not in the moment.

His mind wandered. When was the last time he’d been held by somebody? He’d never once been held by somebody who liked him romantically. He wasn’t sure that anyone outside his family had ever so much as hugged him. The thought made him dizzy. “Thank you,” he managed to say.

“Don’t thank me. It’s basic decency.” You continued smiling at him. “Oh, we don’t have a time set. Does one work?”

“One is fine,” Wilbur replied. “I’m totally cool with one.”

“Sounds good. Saturday at one, then,” you said. “Be ready to film.”

“I’ll be ready,” Wilbur promised. He just hoped that it was a promise he could keep.

He spent the rest of the week panicking. He shoved himself into schoolwork, studying, finishing up the essay that you had distracted him from. On Saturday morning, he woke up, shaved, took a shower, blow-dried his hair and got dressed. He knew that the clothes would be coming off, but he tried to dress somewhat nice anyway. He figured that even his nicest jeans and a button-up would be fine. He kept reminding himself that a business encounter was all this interaction would be.

Around noon, he got a text from you:

Hey ;) ready to film?

He quickly replied.

Born ready. Send your address?

The next message contained your address. He took a deep breath, brushed his teeth (for the third time that day) and set off. He left his apartment, got into his car, and started driving.

He put on a playlist on the way there, one he had made containing music from your favorite bands. He kept constantly checking himself in the mirror to the point where he realized he would hit something if he didn’t stop. He was an absolute wreck of nerves.

He pulled into the apartment parking lot and got out of his car. He walked into the building, took the elevator…

And there was your door. He stepped toward it and hesitantly knocked three times. The wait was agonizing. He stood outside the door for a minute before you opened it.

“Sorry!” you said. “I was in the middle of getting the lighting set up. Come in!”

“No worries.” He followed you inside. Your apartment was immaculately clean, with enough decorations to add character without being overwhelming. He followed you down the short hallway to your bedroom.

Sure enough, it took a lot to keep himself calm the second he stepped through the door. The whole place smelled like you, and it was enough to make him lightheaded. He looked at the setup, and it was honestly impressive. You had a professional-level camera setup, multiple lights, and cameras at various angles. “This is…wow,” he said. “You know your shit.”

“I’m a professional.” You winked at him as you adjusted the angle on one of the cameras. “Okay, so…a bit unconventional, but we’re going to do a test of sorts to make sure that the angles on the cameras are correct. Is that alright?”

Wilbur shrugged. “As you said, you’re the professional. I’ll let you call the shots.” He had no idea what a “test” would entail, but he wasn’t about to question it. He stood off to the side, watching you as you worked. Your white tank top left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

“Great.” You adjusted one of the lights, lowering it slightly. “What do you think? Too bright in here?”

Come to think of it, it was a little blinding. “Maybe a bit softer,” Wilbur suggested.

“Good idea.” You nodded in agreement and dimmed the lights. “Better?”

“Better.” Wilbur took a few deep breaths. “We good to go?”

“Good to go.” You sat on the bed, examining the angles from your sitting point, clearly trying to decide if they were any good. “Yeah, definitely good to go.”

“Okay, then.” Wilbur stood there awkwardly. “What, um, what do I do?”

“Like I said, I want to test the angles before we start actually filming.” Wilbur watched as you pressed record on all the cameras. “I figure we just experiment with a few positions, see how the camera captures it. You can stay dressed if you want—-like I said, this is just a test.”

“Alright,” Wilbur murmured. He sat on the bed and nearly froze when you cupped his cheek. His face was so close to yours that he could barely breathe.

“You still okay with this?” you asked, searching him for any sign of hesitation. He nodded. This was terrifying, but the thought of walking away was even scarier. “Good.” Mere seconds later, you pressed your lips to his.

It took him a second to kiss back, but once he started, he never wanted to stop. Your lips were soft against his, just testing the waters at first. He had no idea where to put his hands, but he didn’t have to think about it for long, as you quickly pushed him onto his back. He made a small noise as you got on top of him and continued kissing him.

Wilbur didn’t consider himself a good kisser. It wasn’t like he had much experience. The kisses became rushed and sloppy, and just as he started to settle into the rhythm, you were getting off of him and checking the camera footage. He sat there, dazed, as you made your way around the edge of the bed, checking what the cameras picked up. You were explaining something about the process, something about lighting and shadow and…whatever else, Wilbur wasn’t listening. He could still taste you, still feel your lips against his.

He only snapped back to reality when you approached the side of the bed again. “You still okay with the pegging thing?” you asked.

“Yes,” he breathed out. He could feel how hard he was, the slight friction against his jeans, but he didn’t have it in him to be embarrassed anymore. Who cared if this was just for work, just for content? He was about to have you, and having you in any capacity was better than not having you at all.

“Alright, then.” He watched as you opened a nearby dresser. “I have a couple things that you can choose from…” You pulled out a box and set it on the edge of the bed. He scooted closer as you opened it, his throat catching at the array of items. “These are all the toys I have that are compatible with the harness,” you explained. “I’d rather us not start filming until the main event, so to speak. We can get you all prepped before that.”

He nodded, breath catching in his throat. “Sounds good,” he choked out. He glanced over the collection of toys. Some of them were definitely too big for him, so he avoided them. His eyes finally landed on a pink dildo, just slightly bigger than the one he’d used in a recent clip. “That one, maybe?” He pointed.

“Good choice,” you said. “Just got this one.” You picked it out of the box and laid it on the bed. Wilbur’s eyes stayed on you as he watched you gather more stuff—-the strap-on harness, some lube, a buttplug. You went about it with the precision of a doctor gathering medical supplies. It was both hot and slightly unnerving.

“Do we have everything?” Wilbur asked. He shifted slightly, both to get comfortable and because it was difficult to sit still when he was so close to you.

“Yep! We’re set.” You sat back down on the bed close to him. He shuddered as you rested your hand on his thigh. “Still okay?”

“Still okay,” Wilbur confirmed. He closed his eyes as you leaned in to kiss him. He kissed you back, less sloppy this time, less desperate. He wanted to be able to contain himself, at least a little. He didn’t know what you’d think of him if he appeared too needy.

Your gentle hands pushed him backward, and he laid down on your soft mattress, eyes unfocused as he looked up at you. He pulled you in for another kiss, and whined as your tongue found his. The sound was pathetic in his mind, but it seemed to spur you on further. He gasped as you grinded against him. Even though it was only the tiniest bit of friction, it was one of the best things he’d ever felt. His hands wandered to your waist, sliding under your tank top. It was the boldest thing Wilbur had done so far, and he was more than pleased when you leaned further into his touch.

A moment later, your lips left his. He frowned for only a split second before realizing why. When he opened his eyes, your hands were brushing against his as you took off your tank top, leaving absolutely nothing underneath.

He stared. He couldn’t help it. He wanted so badly to touch all of it—-your stomach, your bare waist, your chest. It was almost too much. His cheeks went red as he heard you laugh softly. “Enjoying the view?” you teased.

“Oh! Um…sorry,” he said sheepishly. He forced his eyes upward, and when he did, he locked eyes with you. To his surprise, there was no sign of disgust or embarrassment on your face, only amusement. “You’re just gorgeous. Couldn’t help it.”

“Of course I am. How else would I have gotten this job?” You smirked down at him, and he managed to laugh despite his nerves. “In all seriousness,” you said, “thank you. You’re pretty good-looking yourself.”

It was one of the more tame comments he’d gotten in recent times, but it was by far the best. “Thank you,” he replied, his voice coming out as a squeak. Before he could apologize for that, you were kissing him again. Your hands found the buttons of his shirt, and he helped you take it off without hesitation. His mind went blank as your hands wandered his skin, tracing the lines of his abdomen and chest. He returned the favor, letting his hands wander a little. He held back, not squeezing or grasping, just lightly touching.

You slid out of your shorts, and Wilbur fumbled with the button of his jeans. Once he undid that, you got his zipper for him. You lifted yourself up for a moment so that Wilbur could remove his jeans. He shivered as his bare skin met the cool air of your room, then frowned as you got off of him. “We should get you ready,” you said. He nodded, finally removing his boxers.

He let them fall to the side of the bed, leaving him completely exposed. He could feel how hot his cheeks were, but you didn’t seem to be judging him for it. In fact, you were focused instead on putting lube on your fingers, occasionally glancing at Wilbur. He shivered, parted his legs without you asking. He laid there for a moment, staring at your ceiling, trying to calm himself. He only had a moment before you were back, settled down beside him. “You ready?” he heard you ask. He could only nod in response.

He felt a finger press inside of him, and he sighed. His eyes closed, his lips parted, and he let himself revel in the feeling. For once, he had someone else’s fingers, someone else’s touch. Of course, only one finger wasn’t nearly enough, but it was a perfect start. He moaned quietly as you moved your finger in and out, slowly, almost teasingly. He spread his legs further for you, and you scooted closer. At one point, your finger curled just enough that it brushed against his prostate, and the moan that he let out was downright desperate. He clasped his hand over his mouth, only for you to move it away. “Where’s the fun in that?” you murmured. He couldn’t even process your words before you brushed his prostate again, and he nearly moaned even louder.

“More?” he questioned. “Please?”

“Since you asked so nicely…” You slid in another finger and he whined. It was then that a thought occurred to him.

When he used his own fingers or his own toys, he never properly prepped himself. Not ever. It always hurt a little bit, since for him, he was always doing it just for the camera. It made him realize how much he neglected himself when it came to his job, never truly considering his own boundaries or what felt good to him. And yet, here you were, and it didn’t hurt with you at all. Even though this was just for work, just for content, you were being more considerate and gentle with him than he was with himself. He made a mental note to thank you later.

In the meantime, your fingers curled against his prostate, and he let himself moan and whine, gripping at the sheets and breathing heavily. He let his mind go empty, let himself fully relax, let himself be yours even if only for a moment in time. He felt it as you switched between brushing against his prostate and prepping his hole, gently stretching your fingers to spread him a little wider each time. “This feel okay?” you asked.

Wilbur nodded, unable to speak properly. You continued your movements, and Wilbur continued his moans. Your fingers were gone all too soon. Wilbur gasped a few times and forced his hazy vision to focus. “All good?” he asked, a little concerned. He watched as you wiped your hand off with a wet wipe before tossing the wipe in a bedside trash can.

“All good,” you replied. “You feeling ready? I grabbed a plug just in case you wanted to use that for more prep, but if you’re feeling good, I say we go for it.”

“I’m good to just go for it,” Wilbur said. To his surprise, his voice was a lot more steady than it had been. Something about your presence was calming, even in a situation like this that Wilbur had no experience with. He watched as you got the harness ready and strapped it on. Okay, maybe the dildo was a little bigger than he’d originally thought, but he would be fine. He hoped. “Thank you for, um, helping me get ready.”

“Why wouldn’t I help? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” you said. You finished putting on the harness before coating the strap in more lube than was probably necessary, just for good measure. “The nice thing about not working for some big porn company is that we get to do things in our own time. We’re not rushing to fit some director’s schedule.”

Wilbur nodded. “Right.” He’d heard varying things about being in professional pornos from various people in the industry. Experiences ranged from incredibly negative to incredibly positive, depending on the company, the director and any number of other factors. Wilbur was grateful to be making enough money on his own to make this venture worth his while. It was nice not having to risk mistreatment. “Still. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He watched as you pressed “record” on each of the cameras. You turned back to him, your expression focused, methodical. “Ready?”

Wilbur nodded. “Ready. Um…safeword?” He definitely didn’t plan on using it, but it was always better to be safe.

“Is the stoplight system good with you?” Wilbur nodded. He’d never used it, but he knew what it was. “Perfect,” you replied. “Let’s get this show on the road, then.” You smirked, and Wilbur grinned back. All the nerves were gone, replaced with excitement and focus. The cameras were rolling. Time to put on a show.

Wilbur wiggled his hips slightly, getting comfortable as well as a bit closer to you. He glanced at one of the cameras and shifted a little so that it would catch his facial expressions better. His eyes quickly went back to you. He felt your hands on his thighs. “You gonna be good for me?” you asked, your voice a little louder than it had been earlier. He figured it was just for the cameras.

“Y-yes,” Wilbur said, slightly exaggerating the tremble in his voice. From the look in your eyes, you approved. “I-I’ll be good for you. I’ll be a good boy, I promise.”

“Yeah?” Your hands ran up and down his thighs, causing him to tremble and shiver. “Then be a good boy, and tell me what you want.”

“I want…I want you to fuck me,” he said. He realized then that he was being too quiet for the cameras to pick up, but thankfully, you saved the scene.

“A little louder, sweetheart. I couldn’t hear you.”

“Fuck me,” Wilbur said, a little louder. “Please.” Despite the fact that it was just an act, he knew that the way you called him sweetheart would be playing on repeat in his head for weeks to come, if not months. His obsession was certainly deep enough for that.

“Good boy.” He felt the tip of the strap press into him, and he gasped. “Aw, already too much?” You asked teasingly.

He shook his head frantically. “No. Not—-not enough. Need more. Please…” He tried to scoot closer to you, to get more, but you shook your head.

“You only get what I give you. Understood?” He nodded. “Good boy.” You continued pressing the strap into him, painfully slow, giving him a chance to adjust to the size of it.

He whined, trying not to arch his back or move too much. Instead, his hands gripped at the sheets. He tilted his head to the side a little bit, right in the view of the camera to show off his face contorted with pleasure. His viewers always liked that; he figured that yours might as well. “Fuck,” he gasped out. “You’re so…so big…”

“Too much for you? Or are you gonna be good and take it?” You pushed the rest of the way in, and despite feeling fuller than he’d ever felt, not an ounce of pain came with it. Wilbur was grateful for that.

“I can be good,” Wilbur promised. “I can take it. I swear I can be good and take it.” He whined as you shifted your hips a little, and his hands went to grasp at your back. “Please. Please start moving. I need—-I need you.” Not even Wilbur could tell at this point where the genuinity ended and the act began.

You grinned. “You’ve been good so far. I feel like you’ve earned a reward.” You started shifting your hips, slow but deep thrusts that had him reeling. You weren’t quite getting his prostate, and he suspected that it was on purpose, you wanting to draw this out longer for the cameras.

Wilbur tilted his head back slightly. His eyes fell half-closed, and he peeked out at you from beneath his lashes. He let his lips remain parted. He suppressed his moans, opting instead for gasps and grunts. It would make better content, he figured, if he could start small and build up to it. It was taking a lot of effort to hold back.

“More?” he asked meekly, trying to make his voice loud enough for the cameras, yet quiet enough to keep up the submissive appearance. Although, he supposed it was more than an appearance. With some time, practice and confidence, maybe he’d be able to play a different role. For now, this is what it was. His body trembled slightly with the nerves and the sensations.

“Hm? What was that?” Your movements slowed down a little, much to Wilbur’s dismay. “Did you just ask something of me without saying please?” You leaned down, your face hovering inches from his. “You remember when I told you that you only get what I give you, right?”

“Y-yes,” Wilbur said. “I’m sorry. I’ll be good.” He sighed as you ruffled his hair, his brown eyes wide and gazing up at you full of desperation. “I promise.”

“Then say please,” you replied. “You can say please, can’t you, baby?”

Wilbur nods, a sharp, jerky movement. “C-can I please have more?” he asks.

“More what?” you asked innocently. Your hips continued rocking back and forth, so languidly that it was frustrating. “What do you want, sweetheart? Use your words.”

“I-I want it harder,” Wilbur replied. “F-faster. Please? Please, I need it.” With every passing moment, Wilbur became less and less aware of the cameras picking up his every move. If he focused hard enough, he could pretend that this wasn’t all an act. It was a dangerous game, pretending that way, but as time passed, he cared less and less.

“I guess I can give you what you want,” you said nonchalantly. “If you promise to be good.” Your movements picked up speed, hips thrusting slightly faster but just as shallowly. You weren’t thrusting all the way to the hilt, but Wilbur did his best to be patient despite wanting it desperately.

“I promise,” he panted out. “Please. I’ll be good.”

“Good boy,” you cooed. Wilbur felt a shiver go down his spine, and his shivers immediately turned to gasps as your thrusts got harder, faster, more forceful. He tried to tilt his hips a little, make you brush against his prostate, but you refused to comply, still avoiding the spot entirely. He let out a whine, high-pitched and needy. It was almost embarrassing, but based on the way you only smirked wider and picked up the pace, it was clear that you weren’t about to judge him for it.

Wilbur let himself get a little louder. He was tempted to cup your face, to run his fingers gently along your sides. He almost did before remembering that this wasn’t real. You didn’t love him. This was just sex. His second time ever, with someone he’d been crushing on obsessively, and none of it was even real. Despite how good he felt physically, he started to feel like shit mentally. The thoughts combined with your movements caused him to tear up a little bit, much to his embarrassment. He felt his eyes burn a little, and he glanced away from your face, trying to hide it.

It was no use. You saw. “Color?” you asked softly, too quiet for the cameras to pick up properly. Your eyes held a somewhat concerned expression. Immediately, Wilbur felt bad for upsetting you.

“Green,” he replied easily. “I’m okay. Promise.” He even managed a small smile.

You nodded, the worry slowly melting from your face. He moaned as your movements picked up speed again, and then whined as you finally, finally, hit his prostate. His moans got increasingly loud as you continued hitting that spot with every thrust of your hips, burying yourself inside of him to the hilt of your strap. He looked down between his legs as best he could, watching you move in and out of him. He could only look for a moment before having to tilt his head back and whine once again.

“Look at you,” you cooed. “So desperate for my cock, huh?”

“Y-yes.” Wilbur gripped the sheets with one hand and your shoulder with the other. “Please, please, please don’t stop.” His voice came out sounding whiny and pathetic, wobbling with every word.

“You’re doing so good,” you replied. “Taking me so well.” Wilbur moaned once more as you gripped his hips, using the hold as leverage to help you thrust harder.

He could feel himself getting close. He noticed how much pre-cum he was leaking, small drops of it dripping down his cock. “S-so close,” he whined. His hand subconsciously went to his length, but you quickly pulled his hand away.

“Not without my permission,” you chided him. He gasped as you continued your movements.

“Please,” he said desperately. “Please, I need…fuck, I need you to touch me. Please.”

You grinned and wrapped a hand around his cock, slowly pumping him up and down. He let out an embarrassingly loud moan. After just a few movements of your hand, his hips were twitching. He let out a series of swears and pleas, his words nearly incoherent as he finished, cum coating your hand and his stomach. You murmured soft words of praise, but he could barely register them.

His vision was hazy as you stopped moving. He gasped for air, panting. He felt numb and overstimulated all at once. His hand that was gripping the sheets slowly loosened its grip, and he let his hand fall from your side. “Thank you,” he murmured. His throat felt scratchy and dry.

“You were such a good boy,” you said, running a hand down his hip to his thigh. You pulled out, and he gasped at the feeling. You leaned in close to him, your faces inches apart. “We’ll have to do this again sometime, yeah?” He nodded eagerly before you pulled away.

He watched as you turned off the cameras, and he finally let himself relax, laying down fully on the bed. His gaze went from you to the ceiling before he closed his eyes. He needed a break, a few moments to collect himself, to come back to reality. His eyes still burned, and he let a few tears escape down his cheeks. How could something so pleasurable also be so painful?

He laid there for a few moments, taking deep breaths and trying to calm himself. He closed his eyes, trying to will the tears away. He couldn’t get over the thought that this wasn’t enough, that he needed more of you, and he needed it to be real. It was as if all his years of loneliness were catching up to him at once. Every night that he wished someone would hold him, every day that he’d spent pining after people who would never love him back…not to mention the constant self-loathing that came from the small amount of self awareness that he had, the awareness that he was a creep who nobody could ever love.

Wilbur heard you as you took off the harness before walking over to his side. “You alright?” you asked. Your voice was soft, concerned. “Was I too rough with you? Do you want some water, or maybe something to eat?”

Wilbur opened his eyes and sat up a bit. “Um…water would be good. And no, you weren’t too rough with me.” He wiped his tears off his cheeks and managed a smile. “You were a lot less rough with me than I am with myself, honestly.”

You grinned back at him. “Okay, I’ll get you some water. If you want to clean yourself up, the bathroom is to the right of the entrance to my room. There are washcloths in the drawer under the sink.”

“Thanks,” he said. Some warm water to help wipe the sweat off him sounded almost magical. “I’ll go do that.” He slowly got off the bed, feeling a little shaky. Your kindness and the sweet sound of your voice had taken away some of his pain, but the loneliness lingered in his mind like an ever-present itch that he couldn’t reach the source of.

“I’ll be here when you get back,” you called after him. He went into the bathroom and closed the door.

He used the bathroom, cleaned himself up, and was about to head back to your room when something caught his eye. You had a laundry hamper in the bathroom, and on top of the pile of laundry, nearly blended in with the surrounding fabric, was a pair of black underwear.

He immediately beat himself up for even thinking about taking it…but god, it was tempting. He would have something of you always, something you’d touched. More than just touched. He could keep it in his room, with his things, a little souvenir.

The only other souvenir he’d ever kept was from the girl he was obsessed with in high school. She had once torn out a page of notes and dropped them in the trash can, and he had fished it out and kept it. Of course, he’d thrown it out after she’d called him out for being a creep.

Never had he had something like this. But he quickly realized that, even if he wanted to, he couldn’t take it. He was naked, so it wasn’t like there was a pocket to hide it in.

He pushed away the disappointment and left the bathroom. It was better this way, better that he not have the opportunity to do what he wanted. Despite knowing that it was for the best, he couldn’t help but feel upset by it.

He re-entered your room, where you were sitting on the bed. You’d changed out the duvet, and there was a glass of water on the nightstand for him. You were dressed again in sweatpants and a t-shirt, and he felt more exposed than ever. You turned when you heard him enter, and immediately, he was given a smile. “Feeling better?”

Wilbur nodded and smiled back. “Much better, thanks.” He glanced around and saw his clothing on the floor. “I’m just gonna…”

Your eyes flitted to the pile of his clothes. “Right. Good idea.” You then glanced at the dresser in the corner of your room. “Hold on, I have something you can wear instead of that uncomfortable button-up you were wearing.”

Wilbur was about to protest and say that the button-up was fine (despite the fact that it was cheap and a little itchy in reality), but he quickly shut his mouth and worked on getting his jeans and boxers on. If you had something for him to wear, something that was yours, that would be a dream come true. He watched you as you shuffled through a drawer.

“Here it is,” you murmured, more to yourself than to him. He saw as you picked up a t-shirt, one that was definitely too big for you. “I have this extra shirt. I accidentally ordered a few sizes too big, so you can have it if you want.” You tossed it over to Wilbur, and he caught it.

It was a band t-shirt. Wilbur recognized the band as one of your favorites. “Are you sure?” he asked. The material was soft in his hands, and Wilbur swore that it smelled like you.

“Yeah, I’m never going to wear it. It’s yours.”

Wilbur held it like it was precious. He examined it before sliding it on. It fit him well, not too loose but not too tight. He looked over at you and immediately noticed that you were looking right back at him. “It fits really well,” Wilbur said. “Thank you. This is much better than my other shirt.”

“No kidding,” you replied. “That thing felt like it was awful to wear.” You paused. “Plus, you look good in it.”

Wilbur could hardly believe it. You had complimented his appearance twice. In one day. “Thanks,” he said, his voice slightly shaky. “I, um, appreciate it.” He reached for the glass of water on the bedside table and sat down in order to steady himself. He took a sip, immediately feeling refreshed. He hadn’t realized how dry his throat felt.

“Anytime.” You sat beside him on the bed. “Can I…ask you something serious?”

Wilbur put down the glass and turned his full attention to you. He saw the slight concern in your expression, and his small smile quickly faded. “Sure. What’s up?”

You tilted your head slightly as you looked at him. “Are you okay? I know that you said you were alright, but you seem a little shaken up still. I’m just a bit worried.”

He sighed, trying to figure out what to say. On the one hand, he could be honest. At least, a little bit honest. You didn’t need to know the full truth. On the other hand, he could insist that he was fine. He worked through the options in his mind, and settled on a half-truth.

“I, uh, have never been pegged before,” he said. “This was my first time. I think I just got a little overwhelmed is all.” He paused, and when he saw your expression grow more concerned, quickly added, “But I’m fine! Really, you were great. You didn’t do anything wrong, and it was a good first time. A great first time.” He could feel his cheeks get slightly hot, but he did his best to stay relaxed.

You looked surprised, your eyes slightly wide. “You…you got pegged for the first time, just now, on camera?” You shook your head, a barely noticeable movement. “That’s…brave. I’ve never done something for the first time on camera.”

“Yeah…yeah, I probably should’ve prepared beforehand,” Wilbur said. “But I just figured…it’s not like I’ve never done anything anal on my own. I figured it would be fine, and it was.”

“But you looked upset,” you said.

“Just overwhelmed,” Wilbur replied. “I promise it’s okay.” The last thing he wanted to do was deter you by making you feel bad. Besides, it really wasn’t your fault.

“Wilbur…” You looked away, pausing as if considering what to say. “Allison showed me a short clip the other day of that video you two filmed, and…and I don’t know if it was just an act, but I got the feeling that you were very new to what you were doing.” You looked back at him, and he felt the intense desire to disappear, to change the subject, because how could he admit how little experience he had without being intensely embarrassed? “Was that…did you ever have sex before that?”

Once again, Wilbur had the choice between honesty or a lie. Somewhere in his mind, he knew that he wanted to try for more with you—more than just friendship, and definitely more than business partners. The terrifying thing was this: if he wanted that, truly wanted that, then he would have to be honest with you at some point.

“...No,” Wilbur said, barely audible. He avoided eye contact. “I was, um, too nervous to tell her that it was my first time. I wanted to do a collab, so I just didn’t say anything.” He fidgeted with his fingers, trying to distract himself. “I…maybe I was wrong to do that. I don’t know. I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone, I just didn’t want to wait around for things to happen for real, because I need the money now, not later, and…and it didn’t seem like anything was going to happen anytime soon, so…” He shrugged, hoping that the explanation was enough.

“And…and was it good?” you asked. “Like, was it a good first time for you? Did you enjoy it?”

Wilbur thought back to it. Allison was nice, sure. She was amenable, very understanding when it came to the fact that Wilbur was new in the industry. And yeah, Wilbur had finished that first time with her, but when he really thought about it, he couldn’t say it was enjoyable. It wasn’t enjoyable, being with somebody he had no connection with. It wasn’t enjoyable knowing that this incredibly vulnerable moment of his life was being livestreamed in real time, and it definitely wasn’t enjoyable that his first time was done for profit rather than for the experience, for the fun.

“I mean, does anyone enjoy their first times?” Wilbur managed to dodge the question, but his eyes still didn’t meet yours.

“Yeah! Well…I don’t know. They’re generally not good in the sense of being physically pleasurable, but they don’t have to be awful,” you said. “I just…I can’t imagine doing that in front of a camera, streamed live like that. And it sounds to me like you did it because you didn’t feel like you had any other choice.”

Wilbur finally looked up at you, scared of a reprimand, scared of your judgment. But all he saw in your expression was worry and kindness. “I…I’ve just never really had the opportunity,” he said quietly. “I’ve never been in a proper relationship. I kissed a girl, like, once in high school, but that was it. And then not again until Allison. I just wanted to get it over with, to feel…I don’t know. Normal, I guess. Desirable. Like…like someone wanted me.”

The second the words came out, Wilbur was mortified. He’d never told anyone any of this, and the fact that he’d told you of all people, the second time he’d ever spoken to you in person, made him wish he could turn back time and erase this entire conversation.

He felt you gently take his hand. “I’m sorry,” you said, “that things didn’t turn out the way you would have liked.”

Wilbur looked down at his hand, gently wrapped in yours, and he gave it a small squeeze. “It’s okay,” he said. “It wasn’t awful.”

“Still,” you said. “It sucks.”

“It does suck.” He watched as you let go of his hand, hiding his disappointment. “Anyway, um…I’m sorry to unload all that on you,” he said, his self awareness returning to him.

“It’s fine, Wil. We’re friends, and I wouldn't have said what I said if I wasn’t prepared for a response,” you said. “Really, it’s okay.”

He could hear the softness in your voice, the hint of concern. It nearly made him cry again, just knowing that somebody cared about him at all. “Thank you,” he said. “I…I really appreciate it.” The words felt so tame in comparison to what he wanted to say, but all the words he could think of seemed too much. He couldn’t believe that you’d referred to him as a friend, that you wanted to continue associating with him. It seemed too good to be true.

One thing was certain: it would take a lot of willpower to make this obsession go away, and Wilbur wasn’t sure he had it in him to let you go.

To Wilbur’s absolute delight, his time with you didn’t end there. After filming, he stayed for dinner. He ate pizza with you on your couch, watching a cheesy 80s movie and making fun of the special effects. Admittedly, he watched you far more than he watched the film, and he felt shivers every time you looked his way.

Over the course of the next week, he messaged you every day. Sometimes, it was because he messaged first, and other times, you were the one to reach out. He forced himself to exercise some restraint, to not be too eager. You made it difficult. Many of the texts were about the video, you giving Wilbur updates on the editing progress. At the end of the week, it went live. Wilbur was notified by your message:

Done! Let’s see how this goes

Wilbur grinned, swallowing back all the anxiety that he felt. What if it was bad? What if people didn’t like it? What if his inexperience showed on camera?

He shoved it all down and sent a reply.

Sweet

After a moment, he was struck both by how boring his last message was and how great of an opportunity this presented him with.

Want to celebrate tonight? Drinks on me?

He waited anxiously for a reply. Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed with no response, until finally, your name appeared on his screen.

How about that bar a block from my place? You know the one?

Wilbur did, in fact, know the one. He’d passed it on the drive to your apartment.

I know it. Send the address and I’ll be there

Eight?

He smiled.

Eight sounds perfect :)

Once again, he couldn’t believe his luck. He took a shower, brushed his teeth, combed his hair. He left early to make sure that he was there in time and that you wouldn’t be stuck waiting for him. The cab ride to the bar felt like it took a million years, and when he got there, you were sitting at the bar waiting for him.

The bar was packed. There was music blasting over the speakers, some pop song that Wilbur couldn’t place, though he’d heard it over the radio a million times. He sat beside you at the bar. “Hey!” he said, perhaps a little too enthusiastically.

You greeted him with equal enthusiasm. “You made it!”

“Of course I made it,” he said, grinning. He could already feel his cheeks get warm, although whether it was from the crowded bar or his proximity to you, he couldn’t tell. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

“Only about five minutes,” you replied. “But I got here early. Still waiting for the bartender.”

“Perfect.” Wilbur glanced at his surroundings. The scene reminded him of when he’d first met you. It was hard to believe that it had been less than a month. “Is the video doing well?” It was too early to draw many conclusions, of course, but he was curious.

“Holy shit, you have no idea,” you said, grinning. “People love the video. Already, I’m getting messages asking for more of it.” You seemed proud of yourself, and Wilbur couldn’t blame you. You’d done most of the work, after all.

He could feel his heart pounding. People loved it, which meant that you would probably want to do it again. More time spent with you, more excuses to see you…it all sounded perfect. “So when is part two?” Wilbur asks. “If people love it, I mean…we should probably get to filming more material, right?”

Your smile faltered, and his heart immediately sank. Of course. Of course it was all too good to be true, too perfect to be real. He should have known better. When you finally spoke, Wilbur was already bracing himself for rejection. “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” you said. Before Wilbur could say anything, you continued. “Not because I don’t like you, okay? I…I won’t lie, it was fun. I’m just…”

“You can be honest,” Wilbur said, so quietly that he could barely be heard over the sounds of chatter and music. “If you don’t like me and don’t want to do it again, that’s okay. I get it.” He knew that he sounded pathetic and self-deprecating, but he had no clue what else to say.

“Wil, I just said that it wasn’t because I don’t like you,” you said. “Please take my word for it.” Wilbur nodded, slightly embarrassed. “The reason I don’t want to film more is because I’m a little worried about you.”

Oh. In a way, that was a relief to hear. It meant that you didn’t dislike him. On the other hand, he was terrified. Did you see him as pathetic? He wouldn’t blame you, but it was still a blow to his ego. “...Why?” he finally asked.

“I just…” You sighed. “You were literally crying, Wil. It was concerning. And I’m not saying that you did anything wrong, because you didn’t, I just think that…” You laughed, a short, nervous sound. “Fuck, I don’t know how to phrase this without sounding insensitive.”

Wilbur froze. You were going to call him a creep, pathetic, a loser. He just knew it. “Just say it,” he said, his voice trembling.

“You have some things to sort out,” you said finally. “This type of job can ruin you if you don’t have the self-esteem to handle it. I’ve seen it before. People go into it feeling like shit about themselves, and then all the validation they get is purely sexual, and it fucks with them when they don’t get that validation anymore. It can be hard to separate your sense of self from your sex appeal, you know? But you have to.”

Wilbur took a deep breath. That was somehow worse than anything he’d anticipated you saying. He wasn’t a creep in your eyes, maybe, but he was broken. He had low self-esteem. You saw him as something to be pitied, and that was a hard pill to swallow. He kept opening his mouth to speak, only to close it again. He finally gave up. “Okay,” he said finally. “Yeah. That’s fine.”

You went quiet. It was only until the bartender showed up that you spoke again, ordering some drink that Wilbur couldn’t make out the name of due to being lost in his own thoughts. When you asked him what he wanted, he replied with water. He didn’t feel like drinking anymore.

After the bartender left, Wilbur felt your eyes on him. “Yeah?” he questioned. “What?”

“Did you actually listen to what I said?”

“What? Yeah, of course I did.”

“Wilbur…”

“I get it,” Wilbur said quickly. “I know that I’m…that I’ve based my whole life around this, and I know that it’s concerning, and I get it. But what else am I supposed to do?”

“Take a break,” you suggested.

“I need the money.”

“Okay, well, go back to solo content for a bit. Because I think you need a moment to think things through.”

It didn’t sound so bad, actually, going back to doing things alone for a while. As long as he still had you in some capacity, maybe it would turn out okay. “Alright,” he said. “I could do that.”

“Good.” You thanked the bartender as he handed you your drink before turning back to Wilbur. “I think it would be good for you.”

“Probably,” he admitted. He sipped his water, trying to enjoy your presence despite the war of emotions he had going on. It took him a moment for him to ask the question that he wanted to ask. “...Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

“No,” you replied immediately. “I just think you need some time off.”

He accepted the answer, but there was one more thing he needed to ask. “I’m sorry if this is…weird,” he said carefully. “But I was wondering if you wanted to go on a date sometime. Like, a proper date, not…”

“An amateur porn filming session?”

“Right. That.” Wilbur felt his hands trembling. “Um…we could go out to dinner sometime. Wherever you want.” He felt dizzy, his breathing shallow and his heart pounding way too fast. “If you want to.”

You took an agonizingly slow sip of your drink. “I’d like that,” you said finally. You smiled at him, and it was like everything falling into place. Wilbur could breathe. You hadn’t rejected him.

And soon enough, he would have you, one way or another.

#wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot smut #wilbur soot x reader smut #simpbur #saccharine writes

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madlumqx · 2 years

Text

that's unexpected. | n. kento

synopsis | nanami kento was the most secretive person in your office, to find out one of his biggest secrets was something you never expected.

warnings | non-sorcerer!au, office!au, age gap (reader is in her early 20’s, nanami is in his late 20’s to early 30’s), nsfw (minors + ageless blogs dni!), bit of a slow burn, fem/afab!reader, camboy!nanami, dom!nanami, masturbation (f/m), using of pet names (angel, darling, & the likes), sir kink, fingering, oral (f receiving), overstimulation (f), dacryphilia, dirty talking, size kink, hand kink, degradation, praise kink, and unprotected sex (don’t do this irl for the love of god)

a/n | alright, who’s ready for this to go down? haha camboy!nanami will forever live in my head. also !! a big shout out and thanks to @l0serloki & @bunnyyamor for helping me gain confidence in writing this because i would have NEVER even thought abt posting it T___T credits to the original artist of the nanami fanart i have used in the banner.

word count: 5.4k (haha whoops got carried away)

nanami kento was the most secretive person in your office. no one really bothers him aside from gojo satoru from the finance department of the company that you work in.

the man was a total mystery for everyone since he tends to be more reserved than most. despite this however, he was a total heartthrob for everyone; tall, muscular, polite, and drop-dead gorgeous? yeah there’s no doubt that people would line up for his attention.

you, on the other hand, strayed away from him. not because you wanted to be different, you were just too intimidated by his presence. he was your senior in the company by eight years and the last thing you want is for anyone to have your head for being the new girl in the office trying to score with the hottest guy.

the work you do was draining enough already.

it was another day at work and you were just about to lose it. your team’s manager tasked you to photocopy a bunch of files needed for an emergency meeting to be held in the afternoon but the xerox machine decided to be a little bitch and jam mid-printing. the missed calls from your boss only adding pressure as your shaky hands try your best to fix the contraption.

“need help?” a voice mumbled from behind you, causing you to jump just a bit and turn to the source.

your eyes widened a bit to see nanami staring down at you with the same unreadable expression he sports every day. “o-oh! mr. nanami, i’m okay! just… having paper jam problems, is all.” you sputter out, mentally cursing yourself for being so obvious about your nerves with him.

he silently shrugs you off and shakes his head, a hand reaching over to place on your shoulders so he can go to the machine and pull out the jammed paper with ease. “you can call me kento, you know.” he mumbles softly. “you’ve been in the office for over a year now but i can’t recall having a conversation with you.”

he catches you off-guard at that statement, making you choke on air. luckily, the last paper you were photocopying was done and you grabbed it along with other copies stacked, “our… schedules never really collided! we can have a conversation soon, mr. na- kento!” you bid him a swift goodbye, bowing as you hurry off.

you were internally panicking, practically fighting with yourself as you walk away, pondering if it was better to just accept the earful from your manager with one missing copy just so the incident with kento never happened. him, on the other hand despite his emotionless exterior, was bewildered at how much you tried to avoid him.

and even if it wasn’t like him to pry into others but you caught his attention.

—

“satoru, do you know (y/n)?” nanami asks the white-haired man as they both exit the building. his run-up with you still unable to leave his mind. the nervous image of yours planted into his brain.

gojo looks at him in disbelief that he would finally ask about someone around the office. “you mean (y/n) (l/n)? yeah i know her! she’s really sweet and friendly, actually.” he answers truthfully, looking back at the time you and him were seatmates at a seminar for the whole company and how you catered his talkative ass the whole time and managed to still pay attention to the speaker in front. “she brings me the cookies she bakes from time to time. why’d you ask? have the hots for her?”

the blonde stares at the latter with unamusement. “just talked to her earlier, i don’t know but she seemed to avoid me. we’ve been working under the same department in administration but i’ve barely heard her voice.” he admits, actually curious why you’re so avoidant of him when you manage to befriend satoru.

unable to help his laugh, gojo pats his friend’s back and shrugs. “maybe it’s more of a you thing rather than her, (y/n)’s friendly.” he says and picks up his pace. “here’s my stop, have fun wondering why she avoids you, nanamin!”

—

you were drained, all you wanted to do was sprawl on your bed and wonder why you put up with the job that you’re in.

removing the tortuous heels you’ve been wanting to take off, you take a deep sigh of relief as your feet hit the solid floor. dragging your body towards your room and sprawling out on the comfort of your bed. you almost moaned at the contact of your aching back against the foam of your bed.

managing to slip off most of your clothes, you were left in just your button up and underwear; the only thing on your mind on right now to further release tension made you open your phone and searched for a website where you can get off to camboys, scrolling through different ones until you come across one that looks a tad bit too familiar.

sitting up a bit, you stare at the muscular body and the all too familiar voice and slacks that slapped your senses back into place. despite his face being hidden behind a mask, you knew it was nanami! the very person you actively tried to avoid was live… stroking himself for the whole of the internet to see.

your sensible side was begging for you to stop and scroll away, but you were a human with needs too. you could feel yourself slowly drip in arousal as you watch him hungrily paired with the guttural groans he slips off from time to time. it was definitely him.

“mhm, that’s right baby, stroke yourself for daddy.” the words he spoke hitting directly in between your legs. feeling his dominance, you just opted to follow and let your neediness take over.

sliding your hand south slowly, you moaned quietly at the slightest friction of your fingers as you slowly rubbed your clit. nanami’s voice was all that you could hear, matching his pace as your eyes focus on his digits, it seemed so big, so perfect to fill you up. you’ve noticed how big his hands were when he helped you just today, but never has a dirty thought crossed your mind until now.

unable to focus with just one hand, you let go of your phone and continue your ministrations, just hearing your co-worker’s breathy moans and small words of praise was enough to send you over the edge. “nngh, k-kento..” you needily say to no one, dipping your middle and ring finger inside, quietly whining as it fills you up; soon feeling the knot in your stomach slowly starting to tighten.

“mhm, gonna cum soon, baby? that’s my good doll, c’mon, make a mess.” nanami’s voice fills up the room, making you quietly cry out of pleasure as his voice sends you into oblivion.

your eyes looked back at the screen of your phone and you watched as nanami came himself, thick ropes of white coating the tip of his cock and stomach, it was a sight to behold. a godly sight, if anyone was to ask you. but not even the nbi can ever get that information out of you.

you had just fucked yourself to your co-worker’s camboy service; how were you supposed to face him at work tomorrow then?

—

you tried to be stealthy around the office, thankful that your work cubicle was on the literal opposite side of nanami’s, it was easy for you to avoid him and risk blowing your cover about knowing his secret. he was a well-respected man who has serviced the company longer than you and the last thing you want was the gossip to spread like wildfire amongst the hungry-for-him people that surrounded him daily.

the plan you had was simple, stay by your side and avoid him at all costs! it sounded easy in your head, even packing your own lunch this time so the only real opportunity for the two of you to clash was if you had to take a trip to the bathroom.

everything was going smooth until your lunch break, however.

you were confident! with just a few hours left of the work day, your plan would be deemed successful, until gojo satoru came waltzing over with nanami in tow. “oh (y/n)!” the boisterous man had greeted you with a wide grin. “why eat here? someone bothering ya?” he questions, raising an eyebrow at you and your food.

the man behind you, honestly. you thought to yourself but you could never say that out loud.

opting to avoid looking at his companion, you turn to gojo and smile at him. “toru! well, i just wanted to eat here. kind of a break from the noise, you know.” you say, internally cringing at how shit your excuse was. in attempt to save yourself, you also motion your computer which was displaying a plethora of files opened. “and i just want to revise on the letters and memorandums that the boss assigned to me, just want to keep things spick and span before i have to pass them by the end of the week.”

satoru suddenly lights up even more, glancing at nanami who just stared you down. clearing his throat, he pulled the blonde forward and patted his back. “nanamin, right here, would love to help! right?” he says, leaving the two of you in shock.

you immediately shake your head as the words gojo spoke finally sink in. “oh! there’s no need! i can manage and i’m pretty sure mr. nanami’s busy too.” you bow a few times as you decline, heart racing as you hope kento would do the same and wack some sense into his friend’s head but instead you were met with him shaking his head.

“it’s okay, (y/n). i have nothing to do anyways, i finished my work for the day already.” he says, grabbing the vacant chair next to you and places himself beside you, motioning you to continue on with your lunch as he takes your work laptop away so he can revise on the current one you’re doing.

you stare at gojo incredulously, unable to formulate words as the blue-eyed man shrugs and silently walk away, leaving you and nanami alone.

cue the awkward silence.

it was unbearable; knowing that if one of your female officemates saw you two together would cause gossip and the weight of being aware of his side job after office hours pestered your thoughts and inner demons to your limits. but considering you had no more say on the matter, you just let him work on what you were doing previously and eat your sandwich in ignorant bliss.

that’s until your eyes landed on the two fingers on the touchpad of your laptop scrolling through the file. the memories and thoughts that took over you last night were back, causing you to choke on your food, making nanami stop and look at you with concern.

“are you okay, (y/n)?” kento asks, placing your laptop back on the table as he pats your back and offers you the water bottle on your desk. his brows were furrowed with concern as you take the bottle and chug down the water, making you a deep gasp for air right after.

taking a few seconds to calm down, you nod. “mhm, just the food going down the wrong pipe.” you manage to crack to lighten the mood between the two of you. if he was doing this much to actually talk to you after yesterday’s photocopy small talk, you probably should make a conscious effort to talk to him too.

“kento? i… i apologize for like… you know avoiding you all the time.” you start off, voice quiet but you can feel the blonde’s intense stare on you. choosing you pick at your fingers rather than look up and meet his gaze. “i’m just intimidated by you, most of the time.” you continue to explain, having the courage to look up and see the corner of his lips upturned to the smallest smile.

“it’s okay, (y/n). i’m just glad it isn’t because of my appearance or something. really thought i did something for you to avoid me as much as you did yesterday.” he admits, placing the laptop back down and flexes his fingers, causing you to spare a quick glance at them again before placing your attention back on him. maybe striking up a conversation with him wasn’t a bad thing at all.

but unfortunately for you, however, nanami kento’s a very observant man and your glance onto his hands didn’t go unnoticed.

—

it was the end of another workday and you were more than glad to go back home and just pass out, but the morbid curiosity of checking to see if nanami was live plagued your mind. it was a bit later in the night as you had to go out and run a few errands of grocery shopping before heading home so the chances seemed lower.

after arriving home and washing up, you were back on your bed, thumb hovering over the browser of your phone to search up if he was active. you shouldn’t, (y/n)! he’s your officemate for fuck’s sake. but you did so well already with hiding it from him today, one more time wouldn’t hurt, right?

the next thing you knew, you were back on the website, heart racing to see if he was active— he definitely was. it seemed to be the start of the stream but he wasn’t wearing his usual slacks anymore, it was gray sweatpants that outlined his dick perfectly and hung low on his hips, exposing his defined abs and v-line.

but what actually caught your attention, was the silver rings that decorated his fingers. combined with the evident veins on his hands and arms, this was like a treat that fed your core. you couldn’t help but imagine how it would feel to have the cold metal kiss your skin as he touches you.

it was all too much, but you couldn’t help but greedily want more, want more of him.

—

a few work days go by and nanami seemed to be drawn to your presence, finding himself gravitating towards you as you treated him the same as you would with any person; unbeknownst to him about your knowledge on the things he does by the time office hours are done.

it’s a beneficial friendship for the both of you; he gets to be left alone by the people who usually pester him to eat with during lunch (with the exception of satoru) and you get to fulfill your dirtiest fantasies by watching him get off whenever you catch him live on stream.

—

it was finally saturday, almost two weeks since you first found out about kento’s secret. you felt proud of yourself for managing to keep it inside for you for this long (with the denying thought that you wanted to gatekeep this information to yourself for as long as you can)

you were making your way home when all of a sudden the rain started pouring, it was harsh and you were drenched in no time. having no other choice, you were forced to find shelter underneath one of the buildings, cursing yourself for not bringing the umbrella you had chosen to leave inside your house when you decided to go out for a walk.

“(y/n)?” someone calls out, and you turn over to see nanami dressed in just sweatpants and a fleece jacket that fit him snug. “what’re you doing here?” he asks, eyeing your figure.

you shot him a sheepish smile, “i wanted to go out and walk for a bit since i’ve been asleep all afternoon. might not be the brightest idea of mine to not bring an umbrella.” you explained, trying your best to keep yourself warm by hugging your arms to yourself.

nanami contemplated letting you into his home; not that he didn’t want you there, he just had business to attend to later into the evening. seeing your freezing frame, however, made him think otherwise. “how about you say here for a bit? i don’t think the rain would let up anytime soon.” he offers, motioning his head to the doors of the apartment complex.

you wanted to decline, you really did. but considering whether you should wait this is one out and probably face hypothermia, maybe accepting his offer was the wisest choice to make.

so you relent, nodding quietly as you walk closer to kento, following him inside the building and into the elevator. “have you invited anyone else from the office over here?” you asked him, genuinely curious to see if he has brought anyone else over.

to your surprise, he shook his head. “just you, (y/n). and satoru, but he’s an unstoppable force of a migraine so i have no other choice.” he says, sighing at the mention of his best friend's persistent and unannounced visits.

it somehow excited you, going inside his apartment and seeing where he would do his business, and it didn’t help that he admitted to not having anyone from the office over aside from gojo; it was like the cards of fate were on your side— even if the odds and chances of him ever opening up the topic were slim to none.

if there was a 0.1% chance it would happen, you would jump on it.

the elevator ride was silent, the awkwardness weighing on your head as you shift from one foot to another as your eyes steadied on both of your reflection against the doors of the lift. it wasn’t helping that you were still cold from being drenched in the rain. “this is us, (y/n).” nanami mumbles quietly as the doors open to his floor, motioning you to get out first.

“i’m not intruding by suddenly coming over, right?” you ask, nipping on your lower lip as you watch the muscles under his shirt flex as reaches for his keys.

he glances back at you before finding the key, shaking his head. “relax, (y/n). i invited you to come over. would’ve declined if i felt you were.” he truthfully says, opening the door and steps to the side, tilting his head to the side and wait for you to enter.

mumbling a soft thanks as you pass by him, you eye the apartment. it wasn’t /that/ fancy but you can definitely see that he was rich. anyone can also tell he liked reading from the multitude of books displayed on the shelf beside the tv. it was definitely an apartment of someone around his age.

“you can wash up in the bathroom, i’ll grab you some spare clothes in my room.” he speaks up, pointing to the door by the end of the hallway. “i’ll just knock when i have them ready.” he finishes, walking briskly into his bedroom.

you head off into the bathroom and wash up, stripping from your clothes to go into the shower and wash off the sticky feeling from being in the rain, sighing in satisfaction as the warmth of the water soothes down your shaking body.

right as you were done, you heard the knocking from the bathroom door. “(y/n)? here’s the clothes.” he calls out. wrapping yourself with the towel, you open up slightly to see him with his arm extended but his face was facing away. “just… find me in the living room after.” he mumbles and walks away as soon as he feels you grab the set of clothing.

briefly slipping into the boxers and the shirt he gave, you walked out and headed for the living room where you saw him sat by the couch, legs sprawled just enough for the dirty thoughts to come right back. his lap seemed so inviting but you had to keep yourself at bay. you were a sudden guest after all.

“would you like some coffee? tea?” nanami says, eyes shamelessly checking you out in his clothes; the way it looked on you causing his dick to stir in his jeans. he felt ridiculous, being turned on by the way you look in his clothes. then again, you didn’t seem to mind his blatant way of eyeing you up and down. nanami is a wise man, he knew and felt if the tension was thick and that was clearly evident with you.

nodding, you sat down by his side; the distance just enough for the two of you not to touch. “if it wouldn’t be such a bother, some coffee would be perfect.” you answer, smiling at him shyly as you get comfortable in the cushions.

feeling his weight lift off from the couch, he looks down at you with his same old stoic expression. “again, you’re my guest so it’s natural for me to try and be a good host. i’ll get us a cup of coffee.” he says, patting your head gently before disappearing into the kitchen.

and you were left alone. alone in nanami kento’s house.

if you were to tell yourself two weeks ago that you were in this current predicament, she would have never believed you. but here you are, eyes wondering around to observe the little trinkets, decor, and overall ambiance of the older man’s place. the curiosity of wanting to know where he films his live but you wanted to respect him and not blow your cover about being aware inside of his own home.

“i’ll find out soon enough, nanami…” you mumble softly as you stretch, unaware that the very owner of the name you just mentioned was just a few feet behind you.

“find you about what?” nanami’s voice startles you, sitting up straight as you turn your body to look at him with eyes as wide as saucers. c’mon get it together, (y/n)! you look like a deer caught in headlights! you cuss to yourself, unable to form any excuse for a few minutes.

kento looked unamused, raising an eyebrow to your direction as he places the two mugs of coffee down on the table. “asked you a question, (y/n). what are you going to find out?” he asks one more time, authority dripping in his tone which sends shivers down your spine. his dominant aura seeping out of him so naturally as he towers over you.

looks like you have no other choice than to come clean.

taking a deep sigh, you start to avoid his gaze, fingers toying with the edge of his shirt. “i… i know, kento.” you admit, voice shy and meek as your heart thrashes around in your chest at the reaction he could have. “i was curious about where you… do things.”

the moment the words left your lips, nanami knew exactly what you meant and honestly, he wasn’t even mad. you treated him the same despite bearing the heavy secret of his work outside of the office hours. you didn’t even gossip around the department about it! you were such a good girl for him that it honestly turned him on more so than feeling invaded.

“and you’ve kept it all this time?” his voice comes out lower than before, stepping closer as one of his digits hook around your chin to lift your face, making you have eye-contact with him. “why’d be so secretive about it, sweet thing?”

sweet thing. motherfucker knows he has you hooked around his finger and you couldn’t help but feel a tad bit frustrated at yourself for being so weak. “because… it felt nice to be the only one to know.” you say, nipping at your bottom lip as your vulnerability slowly shows in front of him.

his free hand snakes around your waist to pull you in, tilting his head lightly as his dark orb stares into yours. “such a good girl for me, yeah? keepin’ my secret and all” he says lowly, leaning in just enough for his lips to ghost the skin of your cheek, breath fanning over your ears. “should i reward you for being a good girl then?”

he hit the spot. he knew exactly what you wanted and you weren’t even ashamed about your body language, hands now gripping the side of his shirt tightly to keep him close to you. “y-yes sir, want you so bad.” you mumble quietly.

that’s everything that nanami needed to hear.

his lips were on yours in a flash, moving in such a slow and intimate way you can’t help but whine just the tiniest bit into the kiss. it drew a low groan from his end, sounding almost primal as he pulled you in tighter, feeling his hardening dick stir against your lower belly. his hands were already underneath your shirt, palming your breasts and pinching your pebbled nipples.

“gonna take you to the room, darlin’” he mumbles, stripping away your shirt before lifting you up with ease as he navigates through his apartment with such expertise. his lips never leave your skin, planting open-kisses to your neck, leaving little nibbles here and there that would probably leave light marks for you to see after all of this.

once reaching his room, you gently tosses you down on his bed, “take a look ‘round and see if this satisfies your curiosity.” he says, motioning to the familiar set up you took in as his background whenever he streams. “could easily open up that camera and fuck you for the whole internet to see, would you like that?” kento asks you, pointing to the camera that was directed at his bed. “as much as i would want that, wanna keep you as mine for tonight.”

the pure filth that was leaving his lips caused your brain to malfunction, unable to form any words from being so overwhelmed already, he shakes his head. “already a dumb baby? how will i fuck you stupid then, little slut?” he tsks, going down on his knees and tugs you to the end of the bed.

easily slipping off the boxers you were wearing, he groans at the sight of your sopping cunt. “such’a good fuckin’ girl for me.” he groans lightly, his big hand gripping at your thigh as his tongue took a teasing kitten lick at your folds, humming at how sweet you tasted for him. “so wet and i haven’t even done anything yet?”

“m-mhm, s’all for you, sir.” you respond, looking down to meet his gaze, your hand slowly reaching over to grip at his hair which earns another groan from him.

“gonna make sure you only know my name by the end of the night.” was the last thing he said before latching onto your clit, tongue swirling around your clit. his free hand ghosting against your hole, middle and ring finger gathering enough of your arousal before dipping in, filling you quite well.

your hips buck up as you feel his fingers enter, “t-too big, nami…” you sputter out, already losing it at the idea of his dick fucking you senseless later on.

kento was about to lose it; he was a man of self-control but something about the way you react has him wanting to see more of you, to gauge more reactions from the touches he gives you. nanami wanted it all.

“gonna have to prep you, sweet thing. needa make sure you’re ready for daddy.” he answers, fingers doing quick work of finding that one spot that made sure to have you writhing underneath him. seeing how your face contorted into one of pure bliss, he knew he had it.

with his tongue doing laps around your clit and his fingers fucking you so well, you could feel the tightness forming at the pit of your stomach. “g-gonna cum, nami…” you manage to say, your moans filling up his room as you struggle to control your movement against him.

you hear him hum, his ministrations never stopping until you feel yourself come undone, nanami’s fingers ride out your high before pulling away once you settle down. you’ve never cum that hard before and you want more.

whining lightly at the sudden loss of his fingers inside you, your eyes watch eagerly as he licks his fingers clean, his stare at you filled with lust. “w-want you in me, sir.” you beg, hand reaching up to palm him through his sweats, earning another groan from him. “please… need you so bad.”

and who was kento to decline? making quick work of his swears, your mouth watered at the sight of his cock, freed from the constraints of his pants with his tip smeared with his precum.

sitting yourself up, he stops you and shakes his head. “gonna pleasure you first baby, can do that some other time.” he says, positioning himself on top of you. the tip of his dick ghosting against your hole.

“don’t… don’t think it would fit.” you mumble softly, already whining at the feeling of his tip teasing you. “gonna have to make it fit then, princess.” he says, slowly sinking into you.

the both of you groan in satisfaction; the feeling of your tight walls wrap around him so well and the burn of his length enter you already causing so much euphoria

once he bottoms out, he stays just for you to adjust to his size. once you nod, he rocks his hips into a steady rhythm, his groaning music to your ears. “s-so fuckin’ tight baby. gonna make me cum so soon.” he grunts, voice a bit gruff as you let out another whine.

“go faster, nami, please. want it rough.” you beg, throwing your head back at how he fills you up so well, just wanting to feel every bit of him. “you sure, baby?” he asks, lifts his head to look at you, adoring your already fucked out expression.

“mhm, use me, please.” you beg.

with your verbal permission, nanami relents. his thrusts were sharp yet hit the exact same spot every time. with his free arm snaking down, his thumb does quick work to rub circles around your clit, overstimulating you even more.

his lips bite into your skin, leaving nasty lovebites as your fingertips drag along his skin, leaving red marks along his back. it was mixed with your light and airy moans, his low grunts and occasional curses and praises about how well you were taking him; t’was pure filth with the sound of skin slapping resonating in the room.

“k-kento, sir, i’m- i’m close!” you squeal, hips bucking up uncontrollably as tears form in your eyes; overwhelmed with pleasure from his fingers and cock.

kento’s drunk on the feeling of your pussy squeezing him right with your legs wrapped around your waist, he couldn’t get enough. “gonna cum in you, yeah? gonna make sure your pussy’s dripping with my cum.” he gruntles, his thrusts becoming sloppier as he starts to chase his own high. “look so fuckin’ pretty with those tears runnin’ down your face, angel.”

his words of praises sent you over the edge, nodding desperately as your grip around him tightens. you feel yourself cum for the second time tonight and nanami rides out your high, his own coming soon after, filling you up.

he thrusts in you one more time, causing you to react and shake your head, “t-too much, nami.” which he understands and slowly pulls out, watching as thick white beads drip from your cunt mixed with your own arousal.

kento leans in and presses a kiss to your lips, “gonna be back in a bit, sweet girl.” he mumbles and leaves, reappearing with a towel and a glass of water in his hands soon after. “here.” he says, giving you the glass and stars to clean you up gently, his hands light and makes sure to leave nothing.

putting the glass of water on the bedside table, you hold his wrist and tug on it. “please don’t leave, nami. just want you here.” you mumble, patting the space next to you.

the blonde obliges and lays down beside you, easily pulling you into his embrace and tightens his hold on you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “gonna be here by your side for as long as y’ want me to, sweet thing.” he says, shutting his eyes to relax himself.

“next time we do this, we’re fucking for everyone to see.”

peepeepoopoo camboy!nanami says to reblog, pretty please !! >__<

#haha i hate that i was shadowbanned #i hope this shows up now #please #i just want to write #jujutsu kaisen nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x y/n #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen nanami smut

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eff-plays · 7 months

Note

every time i remember that astarion has 4 extra hours of dialogue compared to wyll, i get so sad... before i got to the end of the game, i was like "ah. wyll must not be in any fandom posts i saw because of predictable reasons, but surely he still has cool scenes and an equivalent level of care in the canon writing!" RIP. he does not. it's like a self-sustaining vortex of the fandom and the writing team both being way more excited about the pale elf than any other character.

it's a shame because astarion is otherwise a well written and acted character, but it makes me dislike him on principle if i feel he's the authors' Favourite Little Boy, hah.

God YEAH. It's so fucking frustrating!

Like he's my favorite little boy! He fully is! But I would give up HOURS of his content if it meant the effort was equal across the board! Because that's good game design, that's good writing! That's what they should have done!

And it's so so fucking frustrating to see how Larian are basically leaving the other companions in the shitter just to cater to a small and annoying minority of rabid fangirs who shit themselves silly at the mere mention of him.

Y'all know that pretty post with all the companions' eyes? Well someone added some shit about how Astarion's eyes have micromovements that are faster than anyone else's because he's always looking for threats.

And I'm just sitting here like. This is the Dragon Age fandom again. Y'all are here overanalyzing insignificant shit just because it pertains to your favorite crusty white man. It's giving "let's pretend that BioWare's shitty canned animations are worth of deep frame-by-frame analysis". I think in general it's fine to analyze animations in the case of BG3, because there's mo-cap and actual acting involved, but c'mon, y'all. Derailing a beautiful gifset of EVERYONE'S eyes with some sappy addon about only Astarion?

I honestly HATE the fact that I like Astarion as much as I do, because it means sharing a fandom with the type of people who think Cullen is a gift to all women. Which, yeah, a lot of parallels there, in that he also got a hugely inflated role because of a minority of extremely horny idiots who saw a pretty white boy (though the pretty part is debatable in Cullen's case) and all other thoughts flew out the window. I literally initially didn't like Astarion because based on what I'd seen from the fandom, he'd be another unrepentant asshole that people woobiefied like they did Cullen, and to some extent, Solas. And I was right! I just ended up liking him in the actual canon enough to make my own judgment in the end.

It's also why I am filled with glee whenever another Astarion-centric blog blocks me, because the more of those guys I keep away from me, the less I want to shoot Astarion point-blank just by association.

So yeah. He's my little guy but I also fully 100% understand disliking him because of the hype. It's 100% justified and I fault nobody for doing so. His being so well-written as a result of poor management, crunch, and fandom pressure isn't something to celebrate. The ends do not justify the means here. Either extend dev time to give everyone the same amount of love, or don't fucking bother with extra content at all. It's that fucking simple.

Also the optics of admitting all of that in a Discord server just to satisfy a bunch of dipshits looking for a pat on the head for making the Canon Choices. Just ... bleh.

#bg3 critical #bg3 fandom critical #da fandom critical #also i've already lost two followers for talking about this lmao #bye!!

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jasntodds · 6 months

Text

Petrichor [12]

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

Words: 12,719

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, angst, blood, violence, canon violence, manipulation, gunshot wounds, mentions of drug use, drug use, reader is fed the fuck up, description of withdrawal (kind of??)

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

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

A/N: I really do just love angst so much lmao You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

The next day Jason is with Crane. Jason is still reeling from last night. Dick knows pretty much everything now and that wasn’t a part of the plan. Jason thinks it’s only a matter of time before Dick shows back up and destroys the entire thing. It’s only a matter of time before Dick ruins everything all over again. And he thinks about you and how mad and worried you were. It’s all growing a bit too heavy for him, even with the drug. But, he pushes Crane anyway.

The sooner they get this plan in action, the better. The sooner Jason can take care of Dick, the better. But, Crane isn’t having any of it. Crane wants to go through with his plan but he’s also not telling Jason a single thing about it. It’s like Jason is just a piece in his game, a pawn. Doing all of the bidding and only knowing what’s going on when he actually needs to in order to do Crane's bidding. But, Jason shakes that thought off because Crane cares about him. Crane wouldn’t be just using him. Right?

“I met that girl of yours.” Crane states, getting tired of Jason’s pestering about going after Dick.

“I heard.” Jason quips, his voice snippy and harsh.

“She is a handful, isn’t she?”

Jason knows what he’s doing and he won’t. He can be as high as Crane wants him to be but he still has a line. And that line is you. It is always you. Anyone but you.

“I can handle her.” Jason states.

“Can you? You can fight better than her. You've had the training. But, like Dick Grayson, she walked away from last night.” Crane lets out a wistful sigh. “And she threatened to kill me.” Crane looks to be hurt as the words leave his lips. Jason knows better than to think someone threatening Crane's life would hurt his feelings. “Doesn’t it bother you that her and Bruce didn’t kill the Joker for you?” Crane asks and Jason’s eyes land on the floor. “I mean,” Crane lets out another sigh. “That maniac killed you and they couldn’t be bothered to kill him for you. Sam is at least a killer now but not for you. I, though, I brought you back.” Crane gives Jason a sinister smile as he places a hand on his shoulder.

Jason hates it because Crane makes a point. Bruce couldn’t even bend his morals for him. Bruce said he was his son and he took him in, he let him be Robin. Bruce was supposed to protect him and everyone else. But, then he couldn’t even kill the Joker. He’s not asking him to kill Two-face or The Riddler or even Crane, but he should have killed the Joker for him. That’s the part that hurts. And you turn around and starts taking out lowlives but you didn’t even hit the Joker first. Not even for him and you've been wanting his blood on your hands since your mom died. But, somehow, that wasn’t enough for even you. Jason, though, does know someone killed him. And he knows what you said about what him dying did to you. He thinks that person just beat you to it. Bruce though, even Dick. Dick could have killed him, too and he didn’t. No one that claims to care about him at all killed the Joker for him and none of you brought him back. Jonathan Crane brought him back from the dead. Not the people who care bout him.

“This isn’t about her. It’s about Dick.” Jason shakes his head because you're still the line. Despite it all, you're the line he won’t cross.

Jason knows, under the haze of the drug, you would have brought him back from the dead if you knew how. And if it were something you knew he'd want. You would have fought and chewed into fate and the Reaper with nothing but your bare hands just to bring him back. You would have killed the Joker if someone didn't beat you to it. After everything going on, you're still the one person who hasn't given up on him.

You're the line.

“See, that’s your problem. It’s not just about Dick Grayson. It’s about all of Gotham and your girlfriend is a part of that.”

“Okay.” Jason states, unsure where else he could possibly be going with this.

“She’s going to be a problem, just like that older brother of yours.” Crane warns as he turns back around as he walks into the little office building. “She’ll come after me eventually and then I bet she’ll come after you, with Dick Grayson at her side.”

“She’s not a problem.” Jason defends.

You could have killed him last night. If the first knife would have missed, you would have had a second one already in the air on its way to his jugular. If you want someone dead with a knife, you're more than capable but instead, you didn’t. You've had opportunities to kill him and fight him at full force but you don’t. You aren’t the problem, no matter what Crane says.

“Isn’t she? She still wants you to join their side and turn me in, the person who has helped you the most. Haven’t you thought about her using you? Her fear drove her to you and now she’s lost. She doesn’t know who is without you because she got to try to fix you and distract herself from it. You got her to live in that fancy mansion.” Crane says and Jason, right about now, is pretty glad he left out more about you.

Crane pushes sometimes for more information but Jason deflects and pulls information about anyone else he can. Jason won’t let Crane target you. That’s not how this partnership is going to work. It doesn’t matter. Jason Todd doesn’t make very many promises, but he made a promise to you and he’s not breaking it. You don’t break your promises to him.

“She’s not using me. I can get her to join our side.” Jason states, his voice growing more annoyed.

“Then why haven’t you?”

“That wasn’t part of the plan.” Jason lies.

“If I told you to give her the drug and help us, would you?” Crane asks, his brows slightly furrowing with the question because he’s already pretty sure he knows the answer.

Crane doesn’t know you already took the drug. Crane also doesn’t know the real reason Jason burned down his lab. Jason told Crane he was just covering his tracks after Hank. He knew Dick would be digging deeper and he might find it. That isn’t actually a complete lie, that’s probably what would have happened if Dick didn’t already find it. But, the real reason was that he didn’t want you going back and making more of it and taking it. He feels the comedown and sure, while he’s high or when he’s desperate not to feel that way again, it feels worth it. In those moments it always feels worth it but you were always better with dealing with your shit than he was. He doesn’t want you involved with Crane and he doesn’t want you addicted to the drug. You deserve better.

He’d never give you the drug. He’d never ask you to work alongside Crane.

“Yeah, she would do it. She’s just as fucked up as I was.” Jason lies through his teeth, shifting his weight to his right foot.

Crane nods his head but he met you. You're not scared, not in the way Jason was. He can tell you have her own issues but you're not like Jason when Jason showed up at Arkham. “Maybe she’s not who you thought she was.” Crane sighs. “You should really be focused on taking care of her with Dick, if that’s your goal that is.”

“No.” Jason states firmly. “Not happening.” Jason scoffs. “She’s not a fucking problem. She fights with Dick all the damn time and she fought him last night with me. Nothing to worry about.” Jason shakes his head, still a little confused what that was even about.

“Oh, I’m not worried.” Crane states. “You are. If you don’t take care of her, you’ll always be stuck here. You’ll never be able to get to your full potential because you’re too worried about what she’ll do. Maybe what she’ll think of you. Though, I have to say, she is not pleased with you over that Hawk fellow.”

“And she still fought Dick for me.” Jason urges. “Clearly, she doesn’t have that big of a problem with it.”

“I’m just giving you my advice. You want to be fearless but you’re still scared of what she’ll do and what she thinks of you.” Crane tsks.

“I’m not taking care of her. I want to go after Dick. Look, we know the drug works. I’m exhibit one.” Jason states, trying to deflect from you. It can’t be you.

“You’ll see, my boy.” Crane states.

The night before rings through your head like a migraine you can't quit. You and Dick got back pretty later, or rather early in the morning. Dick was instant he could take care of the gunshot wound on his own. He'd done it before, apparently. So, that left you to your room alone and sleeping didn't come too easy.

You could have had both of them but Dick just wouldn't listen and Jason doesn't listen and you're too damn loyal to him. If it were anyone else, you could have thrown a knife to injure them and you would have had him and then could have gotten Crane. But, it's Jason and you don't want to hurt him even if hurting him could bring him back and end up being for his own good. You just won't take the risk. And it sucks. And then you almost got shot because Jason and Dick can't work out their problems like normal people with an actual conversation. You're stuck in the middle of the two of them and you don't even know how the hell that happened.

And then there's the way Jason looked at you when you asked him to come home.

The drug must have been wearing off because he looked scared and for the life of you, you don't know why he would be so scared to come home. Yes, he killed Hank and that's bad but everyone attacked Gar while possessed and moved on from that. Gar killed people when he was being controlled. Jason is killing people while he's manipulated and drugged. None of them have attempted to do anything about any of the people you've killed. Dick just let Bruce walk right out after killing the Joker. Jason shouldn't be scared to come home and you feel horrible he clearly does. Getting him back just got a lot more difficult it seems and you're starting to second guess where you should stand in all of it.

You walk into the Batcave where you find Gar and Kory, looking to be researching something on the Batcomputer. You're best guess is they're trying to track down Jason. That's the only thing anyone is doing these days anyway.

"There you are!" Gar yells with excitement and relief as he rushes to you.

Gar's been worried. You and Dick went off without an explanation and didn't come back last night. Neither of you could even be bothered to answer a phone or keep the phones on for that matter. Kory hadn't heard anything and neither did Connor. He's relieved to see you're okay, even if you're looking a little out of it.

"Oh, yeah, hey." You let out a sigh as Gar brings you in for a hug.

"Where were you last night?" Kory questions. "And where is Dick?"

"And what happened?" Gar asks as he pulls away.

You furrow your brows, looking between them as your heart misses a beat. "W-what do you mean?"

Have they really not seen Dick? You might not have slept long or well but Dick is still, somehow, usually always awake. At least here like maybe the manor is haunting him in its own way. But, Kory and Gar are watching you expectantly and you worry maybe something went wrong with the whole gunshot thing.

"I don't think it's some coincidence you and Dick disappeared yesterday and stopped answering your phones." Kory crosses her arms.

Your jaw opens and closes a few times. "Uh..I mean...yeah..." You offer a yikes expression, squinting your eye slightly.

"Explain, now." Kory states sternly.

"Well, uh, you see...you haven't seen Dick or...heard from him?" You ask slowly.

"No." Kory grows more annoyed by the second.

"Not since he dropped Dawn off." Gar offers, hoping you get to the point soon.

You suck in a breath as you tug your sleeves over your hands. "Uh, yeah...so Dick got, uh shot. But, he was fine."

"So, you just went to bed?!" Gar asks.

"And you didn't think to come get me? Or any of us?" Kory demands.

"He said he had it and he's been shot before. I wasn't gonna argue with him."

"Since when? You argue with him all the time." Gar shakes his head in disbelief. Of all times you aren't going to argue with Dick, it's when he's shot. He could be bleeding out somewhere.

"Yes, I was not in the mood last night." You defend your stance as regret starts to chew at your stomach.

Kory lets out a groan. "And where did you last see him?"

"In the living room? Before I went to bed." You state but before you start giving up more answers, the one and only finally makes his way into the Batcave. "Oh, thank fuck." You let out a breath of relief.

"What happened!?" Kory asks quickly, immediately rushing over to Dick who's a little unsteady on his feet.

You and Gar watch the two of them and you can't help the grin that comes to your lips. Rachel made jokes about the two of them and said she thought it was weird but they'd be cute together. You get it now. Kory ran to him in the same you would have if it were Jason. Dick is clearly the idiot between the two of them.

You eye Gar. "Bet you ten bucks it'll be Kory to close the deal when she gets tired of waiting for him to get his shit together."

"I'm not gonna bet on that." Gar whispers with a soft grimace.

"Because you'll lose?" You raise, offering him a smirk.

"Yes." Gar chuckles. "I don't know if Dick is capable of having that conversation unprovoked."

You nod, rolling your eyes. "Batboys." You let out a sigh. "Okay, I give Kory a month."

"Four, tops." Gar sticks out his hand and you shake it with a soft laugh before you and Gar follow Kory and Dick to the medbay.

Dick takes off his shirt and reveals a gunshot wound on the upper left side of his chest. You furrow your brows. It looks nasty and his entire chest is covered in blood, most of it dry but some of it still looks fresh. Kory shakes her head, grabbing the supplies to stitch up the wound. Gar and you watch for a few minutes, mostly grimacing at the sight of it.

"Dude, that looks horrible." Gar scrunches his nose.

"Five inches over and we'd be burying another body." Kory says as she starts addressing the wound.

"Dude, seriously?" You huff. "You said you'd take care of that." You roll your eyes. You wonder how he could be so dumb. And reckless. It's not like it's a cut or a scrape. It's a literal gunshot wound close to his heart.

Kory stops what she's doing to look at you, Gar nearly snapping his head at you. Dick just glares at you, looking more annoyed than usual.

"What?" You ask, looking between all of them with wide eyes. "What'd I do now?"

"Let him go to bed with a gunshot wound and not tell anyone." Gar mutters under his breath, making you snap your entire attention on him. That's uncharacteristic.

"I'm not gonna force someone to let me help clean up their wounds." You mutter right back, earning a glare of disbelief from Gar. "Okay, unless it's Jaon or you." You snip back. "Sorry." Your eyes widen, looking between the three of them.

Gar keeps his stare on you. You're supposed to be friends and you're not looping him to anything anymore. You and Dick go off to fuck knows where and Dick almost gets killed. They're trying to find Jason since he went dark and you two can't be bothered to work as a team with the team. It's ridiculous. You're supposed to be a family.

"Explain." Kory warms, looking between you and Dick.

"It's nothing." Dick states, watching Kory stitch the wound.

"Nothing?!" Kory yells. "You two went off last night without a word! We deserve an explanation."

Dick pauses and you're not about to be on Kory's bad side. If Dick wants to piss Kory off, that's all on him. You do not want to do that. Kory is usually very nice but you have a feeling being on her bad side could get ugly. Plus, it's Kory.

"Jason's working with Jonathan Crane so we kidnapped him and took him to the cabin to lure Jason there. Then Jason and Dick started fighting and I helped. And then a helicopter came and Dick got shot." You explain simply.

The room falls silent for a few seconds as everyone looks between you and Dick. Kory wants to know why everyone who manages to get involved with Bruce Wayne ends up being some of the most reckless people she's ever encountered. Gar is piecing together everything you've told him and now he's even more frustrated. You and Dick went after Scarecrow and decided you could take him on and Jason on your own without any issues. You both didn't even have a backup plan. And Gar is realizing you not only took Jason's drug, but if it's Scarecrow, it was probably something he designed. You took a drug Scarecrow designed and knew that. Then neglected to tell everyone that piece of information.

You both could have died last night and everyone is supposed to just be normal about that. After everything.

"Wow, thanks." Dick quips.

"I'm not gonna disobey Kory. That's all you." You shake your head as you cross your arms over your chest but you can feel Gar's eyes still boring into you.

"And whose side were you even on last night, by the way?" Dick questions.

"You two morons almost fucking shot me!" You yell. "I was on your side. Hello? Do you not remember that and then you got the first swing on him. I was with you guys until you two almost shot me."

"That was Jason." Dick argues. "He pulled the trigger, not me."

"Because you grabbed his arm! It was aimed at you originally, not me." You let out a scoff.

"Enough." Kory warns, growing tired of the back and forth. The specifics of the fight last night don't matter right now when she's trying to fix a bullet wound that could have been fatal. She is so sick of losing people. "Barbara's responsible for this?" Kory asks.

"One of her snipers is, yeah." Dick answers.

"On her orders, I'm sure." Kory states. "Maybe I should go and have a word with her."

"I think there's been enough bloodshed for today." Gar adds in. "That was way too close, man." Gar's voice is soft but drenched in worry.

"I almost had him." Dick defends.

"No, I had him." You protest. "I had a knife ready to go. He never would have done it. I could have gotten him just fine but then you had to take the damn gun and I almost got shot." You pause for a second and if Dick would have just trusted you, maybe you really could have gotten him back. "We almost had him."

"Neither of you are listening!" Kory yells, looking between the two of you. "You scared us. Going out on your own, getting shot. It's not okay."

"I didn't want to put you guys at risk." Dick says. "She was here when I got the call. She's the only one that ever got through to Jason before. That's the only reason she went." Dick states calmly while Gar looks back at you as if waiting for you to explain why you didn't at least tell him.

"I'm not dragging you into it." You look to Gar as you shrug your shoulders.

"Oh, bullshit, guys." Gar spits and he's sick of this.

"Excuse me?" Dick questions.

"Dude, Hank blew up!" Gar yells. "Dawn left us forever, and Jason went dark. You're killing people!" Gar looks at you. "This family is dying and you two go out alone and Dick gets shot?" Gar yells before he starts growling lowly, his entire face turning green while his teeth turn into fangs. "Do you even hear the words coming out of your mouths!?"

"Gar?" You question slowly as your eyes grow wide. You've never seen him this upset before.

"Gar!" Kory yells, trying to snap him out of it.

"Hey." You stand in front of him, putting your hands on his cheeks. "Hello?"

His eyes land on yours, refocusing his attention and the fire in his bones starts to calm. The green fades from his face as his fangs start to retract. He's so upset and hurt and terrified for the lives of the people he cares about most, he didn't even realize he was starting to transform and Gar doesn't lose control.

"What?" Gar asks, his eyes scanning your face.

"Take ten." Kory states and she also feels like they're starting to lose everyone.

"Come on." You offer your hand to him as you turn around to walk away. Gar joins his hand with yours. "Don't do anything fucking insane without looping me in." You look over your shoulder at Dick, sending him a glare before you turn back around. "You were turning green." You whisper to Gar as you walk hand-in-hand across the Batcave.

"Because you guys could have died last night! I'm sick of losing this family!" His voice is panicked this time.

Gar might wear his emotions on his sleeve, but he is also very good at controlling his emotions. He never just loses control but he is today and it has you feeling even more guilty than you already were. Dick has Kory and Babs. You have Gar and Molly. Conner didn't really know Hank and he doesn't really know Jason. Gar, though, he knew Hank and was friends with Hank. Jason is his best friend and yet everyone has someone besides him. Everything has been a mess and Gar is the one left trying to fix everyone and help everyone but who helps him?

"Come on." You tug him along with you until you reach the living room. You let go of his hand and take a seat on the couch. "Yell at me for it. Go for it. You're scared and mad at us, fine. I get it. So, yell about it. I'm not gonna tell you to take ten. Turn green, turn into a tiger, go for it." You say with ease while Gar just stands in front of you, growing confused.

"What...? But I...I don't know..."

"Look, if you need to yell, do it. I deserve it and Dick does, too. You let me bitch to you for months. So, yell about how you're scared. I'm not gonna be hurt or mad. If it'll make you feel even a little bit better, do it. You take care of all of us, all the time. Take care of you." You offer and it's true. If he needs to yell about it, he should. You're not worried about him turning into a tiger. Gar deserves to let everything off of his chest. He always lets everyone else vent to him.

Gar's eyes narrow slightly. "This feels like a trick."

"It's not. I'd yell at Jason sometimes. He just kind of let me and then he'd yell at me. It was never that we were really yelling at each other, but just yelling. Because we were scared or mad. It usually helped. So, go for it." You shrug softly. "I do deserve it though so ya know."

Gar lets out a breath and decides he'll take the opportunity. He is just scared for all of you. Losing Donna was really hard. And losing Jason was worse. He was close with Json and that sucks. And now he's back and he's dark, working with a maniac. Hank is gone, there's no getting him back. Gar just can't lose more people and he's pissed that you and Dick don't seem to care how any of them feel about it. You're supposed to look out for each other to make sure you don't get blown up or beaten to death but Dick and you just go off on your own without a word.

"I'm just mad at you guys and I'm scared you're gonna go out there and get yourselves killed." Gar groans. "We had no idea where you guys went. You guys left and didn't loop us in. We're supposed to be a team and I know you're between teams but we're at least supposed to be friends! Jason is my friend, too! I want to be on his side. But you guys aren't telling us anything! I don't want to lose any more people."

You're tired of everything and you're tired of keeping secrets especially when Gar is looking at you desperate for answers. He says you're between teams right now but what if you don't want to be anymore? Jason is going to do whatever Crane is putting him up to and Dick is going to off and do his own thing anyway. Nothing you're doing has been working anyway. Maybe you're tired of being the one in the middle.

"The call about Crane came in and we left. I was with Dick and I don't think he would have looped me in if I wasn't already there. You're my friend. You're right. And that's why I didn't tell you." You state. "It's just...I wanted to protect you, I guess. I, uh, I've been dodging Molly's calls and texts, too because of it. I'm with you, I'm sick of losing people. So, I didn't tell you."

"Okay and I get that but this is what we do." Gar urges. "We help each other and we help other people even when it's dangerous. It's dangerous but you and Dick still go out there alone. At least if we're all working as a team, we have a better shot of making it home."

You chew the inside of your cheek and you think your heart might stop beating soon. "I fought him, ya know? And I know what that was like because even though I was high, I'm sober now and I remember every detail. And it fucking sucks that happened. I didn't want that to happen to you. I don't want him to have a bigger reason to target you." You shake your head and you shrug slowly and weakly. "He's not your fight, Gar."

"Yeah, he is." Gar urges. "Why wouldn't he be? He's my best friend."

"Because I owe it to him." You nearly yell. "I owe it to him to fucking save him because he saved me more than once and I never fucking told him. I missed it. I will never forgive myself for it. I have to save him this time."

"You don't have to do it alone." Gar's voice nearly breaks and he desperately wishes that's something you would understand. You never have to do this stuff alone. That's part of being a team and a family. "He's our friend. He's our family. We weren't here and that sucks! But he's not just yours to save. What if you can't do it alone?" Gar asks. "You're up against a freaky drug, Jason who I don't think you could really fight if you had to, and Scarecrow!"

"I know." You nod your head. "I don't know, okay? I know I can't do it alone. I'm sorry. I really am." You suck in a breath. And you're realizing you do a lot of things alone. It's as if it's easier to do them alone and only disappoint yourself, risk your own life than drag other people in the middle of it. "Really, I'm sorry. I was...scared if I tell you then you have to tell Dick and what if that got Jason killed, ya know? I don't know. I'm sorry though."

"You can tell me." Gar says. "I know you're worried about him but you can tell me and I won't tell Dick." Gar stresses. "Not if there's a risk it'll get Jason killed again."

"I know." You nod. "I'll try harder. I'm really sorry, Gar." You let out a breath. "I'm, uh, I'm gonna stay out of it today and take a breather. Might head to Excellent Gotham later, just so you know." You offer a soft smile.

"It's okay." Gar nods his head and offers a soft smile back. "You're going to be able to do that?"

"Yeah, I think better when I take a step back and I need to find a way to not be in the middle." You let out a soft chuckle. "While not doing it alone. But, if something happens..."

"I'll let you know." Gar's eyes widen. "Thank you." Gar clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. "That did help a little actually."

"Told you." You laugh softly as you get to your feet. "Want some food now? Yelling really works up an appetite."

"Yeah okay." Gar chuckles as you get up. "Oh! I can tell you about Blackfire."

"Blackfire?" You quirk a brow.

"Kory's sister. She was kind of tapping into Kory's head and she attacked me yesterday so we went to find Blackfire. Some scientist was holding her captive." Gar states excitedly.

"Um..." You stutter. "Well, we already have so much in common." You laugh softly. "But yeah, no, please explain literally all of that." You say eagerly as the two of you make your way to the kitchen.

Jason and Crane are standing in the washing area of an operating room, watching as the surgeon and the nurses prep a kid for something. Jason isn't sure why Crane made him come here. He said he wanted to show Jason something. It's important he understands what's going on and Jason's part in all of this. If Jason were being honest, he thinks Crane is full of shit this time and he just wants to get out of here. This feels wrong.

Then it gets worse.

A woman comes in holding a sword and starts slicing up the surgeon and nurses. Jason's eyes grow wide as his breathing stops. Blood sprays over the walls and window right in front of Jason. A nurse backs against the window with her hands up and begs for her life only for the woman to slice her, too. This isn't right. Why would Crane do this? They're doctors. They're helping some kid live and Crane has this woman come in....and kill them. She takes something with her before looking at the window and offering Crane a nod. Jason questions if all of that bloodshed was for that one thing. She didn't have to kill them. But, she did.

"You are expendable. If you're not happy here, you are replaceable. Remember what I said." Crane says as he faces Jason and that's when Jason realizes this whole thing might be to help Crane, but the show was a threat.

Crane is withholding the drug from him today. Jason finished the inhaler and then Crane refused to give him more until they came here. He's withholding it on purpose, let Jason's fear kick in just enough to keep him in line and make him desperate. And it's working.

He's scared again.

He's scared he'll end up like the surgeons and nurses. He's scared Crane is the one who's going to turn on him. Red Hood is supposed to be the face of the whole plan. That was the point of creating that alter ego. Crane wants Jason to get rid of you and just do whatever he says, when he says it. He wants him to divert from the original plan while telling him nothing about what's actually going on. He can't do that. That is his line.

Crane can try all he wants but no amount of drugs or manipulation will get him to cross that line. He might believe Crane sometimes about you, maybe he has a point sometimes. But, he won't kill you. You could have killed him at any point but you don't. You could have pushed him off a roof but you didn't. When Jason gets desperate he thinks of that because you're the one that stood on that ledge with him despite your fear of heights. You're the one that talked him down that day no one else and he owes you something for that alone. He won't go after you. He doesn't fucking care what Crane has to say about it, he won't do it.

The more he thinks about it, the more mad he gets. Crane thinks he's expendable, just like Bruce. But he's not. Why does everyone think he's so fucking expendable and replaceable? Why is nothing he does enough? He turned on all of his friends for Crane. He killed Hank for Crane. That's not enough to prove he's not replaceable and expensable? It's infuriating. He'll prove Crane wrong. If Crane wants to get to you, he'll have to go through him first. If Crane wants to wait to distribute the drug, that's a Crane problem, not a Jsaon problem. And he knows exactly what he can do to prove Crane he's not expendable and he can be trusted.

Later that night, you find your way to Excellent Gotham. The other Titans have been busy trying to locate Crane and Jason. You kept yourself busy with a scrapbook page while they did their own thing. It's not really all that nice distancing yourself alone. You figure Excellent Gotham at least provides dinner and you can talk to Tim, someone who doesn't know everything that's going on and doesn't come with the feeling of guilt. If Tim wants to talk about who the Titans are and Batman and Robin, that's fine, too because it's what you always did. Before everything. It'll feel normal anyway. At least Excellent Gotham is a good distraction and lets you take the breather you need. If you're going to be any help, you need the step back. You're too close to it all.

So, you stand at the counter with Tim on the other side as a large smile consumes your face, a take-out counter resting open in front of you.

"Okay, okay, why Bruce Wayne? Like, okay if Dick were Robin, how does that make Bruce Batman?" You question as Tim leans against the counter.

There's a genuine smile splitting your face as you point at him with your fork before going in for another bite. You've been here a few hours, checking in with Gar every so often, a way to try and keep your word to him. And this is helping. You might be in a heated discussion about who everyone is but it feels normal. It doesn't feel heavy anymore. It's just a normal conversation with a friend and it doesn't feel fucking sad. It just feels warm.

You don't remember the last time you felt warm.

"He's rich." Tim scoffs, a grin plastered across his face. "And why else would he let Dick go out there?"

"Unless he doesn't know. Bruce is a busy man. Dick being Robin doesn't mean Bruce is Batman and that's if Dick is Robin." You argue with a laugh. "And that means you'd also be wrong about Jason."

"No, no, I know I'm right about Dick and Jason." Tim pauses, the smiling falling. "Is...is that okay to talk about? Jason?"

"Yeah." You nod with a soft smile. "I, uh, I like talking about him."

"Okay well," Tim picks right back with enthusiasm. You find it amusing how into this he is. Especially since he's right. "He has to be Robin. He has the same fighting style. He walks the same way, how do you explain that?" Tim raises. "And Robin 1.0 and Robin 2.0 share the same height difference as Jason and Dick." Tim states. "If they're the Robins, Bruce has to be Batman."

"Unless!" You yell with a laugh, flinging your fork around. "Dick recruited Jason because they're brothers! Like I said, Bruce is busy. What if Batman is just some guy? Like Kick-Ass. Doesn't have to be some rich guy and maybe he's recruiting kids." You argue and truly, you're only defending Bruce because you think it's funny. And Dick would kill you if you outed fucking Batman.

"Batman can be Batman because he's rich." Tim laughs. "Uh, where has Bruce Wayne been? Where has Batman been? They disappeared the same time!" Tim laughs.

"Bruce is on business! Maybe there's a Justice League thing!" Your laugh reverberates through the restaurant. This feels like home. "How the fuck would I know where Batman is?" You put your fork back in your food. "And that's still assuming Dick is Robin! He's not. Explain Dick having a stick up his ass. Robin is more free-spirited!"

"Sorry to interrupt this very important conversation." Mr. Drake states, walking back to the counter. "But Tim, where is Stephen? Get him on the damn phone and find out where he is. Or you're stuck here all night."

"Shit." Tim mutters, checking his phone to see Stephen's shift started an hour ago. "Okay, hold on." Tim says. "And we'll continue this." Tim laughs as he calls Stephen on FaceTime. "Where are you, man? Your shift started over an hour ago."

"Priorities. My girl's parents are out of town. I'll be there in a second." Stephen says through a grin.

"Seriously? I could have plans." Tim protests.

"What plans?" You snort. "You're here with me arguing about Batman."

"Whatever. Just hurry up." Tim says as he hangs up and three men walk into the restaurant.

Tim is about to start talking all over again with even more enthusiasm and proof but he gets a look at your face, eying the men as they walk further into the restaurant. Maybe you’re just paranoid but they look like they’re up to something. It’s that their walk is steady, determined, but careless. Their eyes don’t land on the menu or Tim or Mr. Drake. They’re pointed at the register. And that’s when you see the reflection of metal sticking out of the last guy’s waistband. He looks to you and then it starts.

The throbbing kicks in like a freight train. It’s an armed robbery and they plan to go out swinging. You’re quick, rushing to Tim as they pull out their guns. Gunfire surrounds and encompasses the restaurant as you tackle Tim to the floor behind one of the counters.

Tim leans against the counter, ducking his head with every echo of a gunshot. His eyes are on you as you take a breath, as if to be debating what you’re going to do. And Tim knows you knew this would happen. You were running to him before they had their guns pulled. And his thoughts are confirmed when you look back to him with fury in your eyes.

It’s been less than five seconds but it gives you enough time to gather yourself. It’s all you need. These people are not going to walk in here and murder the people you care about. They picked the wrong restaurant on the wrong night during one of the worst months of your life.

You lift your hoodie, pulling a knife from the belt around your waist before you pop up from behind the counter.

“Ya fucking missed, assholes!” You yell over at them as the knife leaves your fingers, connecting with one of the guys’ eyes, embedding itself deep into his skull as he drops to the ground.

The throbbing starts again from the side and you duck down just before a shot comes your way. You take another deep breath before grabbing another two knives and throwing one, hitting one of their jugulars. The last one still standing locks eyes with you, his gun pointed right at you. He has this…grin, one you almost swear you’ve seen before but you’ve never seen him before this. His breathing is steady and he actually looks relaxed while you have your arm ready and aimed with a knife, right at him.

His pupils are blown.

And then your heart sinks because Crane is free on the streets and these guys came in here completely fearless. This one finds the whole damn thing amusing. Maybe he’s just high on something else, or maybe you’re right and Jason and Crane have moved to disruption. Excellent Gotham wouldn’t just be a coincidence.

“Give me the money and it’ll be over.” He says so easily you nearly roll your eyes.

“Kiss my ass.” You throw the knife, hitting this one in the arm with the gun.

Then you throw another one, hitting him just below the eye. He drops to the ground in a hard thump, leaving the restaurant a glass and gun-shelled mess. The smell of gun metal seeps into the air while an eery and dense silence consumes the place.

Tim calls your name not ten seconds after the last man drops. There’s panic in his voice, a sense of dread. You rush right over to him where he’s against the food counter now, his dad leaning against the side of it. Blood seeps through Tim’s hands are he tries to hold pressure on the wound. You kneel down, seeing Mr. Drake breathing heavily. Your eyes scan over him, quickly running over the crash course Jason gave you in gunshot wounds once.

“He’s been shot!” Tim yells, desperation in his eyes as he looks to you, silently pleading for help. He knows you're Bluejay. He can only assume you've had some sort of training in this. More than he's had.

You can feel the lump in your throat grow and the spinning of your head. Blood never really bothered you and it didn't with Dick. But, it was mostly dry with him earlier and this, right now, is fresh and active. Your bones feel like they're going to vibrate through your skin and your teeth grind together, trying to push every thought out of your mind that isn't first aid.

You have to help.

“Okay, move.” You urge as Tim pulls his hands away. Your hands are shakey as you lift Mr. Drake’s shirt, seeing the wound oozing and you think you might prefer knife wounds instead of gaping holes. “It’s gonna take the ambulance ten to fifteen to get here,” You rush out. “So, we–”

“Is that…?” Tim asks, cutting you off as his eyes are on the window. He only even looked up to see if he saw someone for help or Stephen but instead of help, he just saw one person.

Jason Todd.

You look up just in time to catch a glimpse of him before he turns around. This cannot really be happening right now. Jason Todd is supposed to be dead. It was all over Gotham City News. Bruce's newest adoptive son was killed in a freak accident. This is going to be a lot harder to explain to Tim and you want to explode. If he's here, you're right.

Why the fuck would he be here and why the fuck would he target the place you frequent?

“Okay, keep pressure.” You look to the door, seeing Stephen rush in. “Stephen, call an ambulance and grab some towels!” You yell as you get to your feet. “Stay here, hold pressure with the towels. I’ll be right back.” Your words nearly slur together as they come out as fast as your mouth will let them.

You rush outside where you see Jason, his back facing the open windows of the restaurant. You can’t believe this. Of all the things he could do, of all the damn people in Gotham he could target, he really came for you. For your friend and his family. You can’t fucking do it anymore. This is insane. If he wants to go after Dick, fine. Sibling rivalry bullshit taken to an extreme. But this? This is targeting innocent fucking people.

“Jason!” You seethe as you approach him. “What. The. Fuck!?” You scream, nearly vibrating from the anger coursing through your veins.

But then Jason faces you.

The anger washes away as your mouth opens, looking for words. There are dark circles under his eyes, a hollowed expression of the charism that used to radiate off of him. Maybe it’s the dark lighting but you swear the green in his eyes is pale, his skin is pale. He looks like a shell of who he used to be. He’s been acting like it but now…he really looks the part and you’re getting the idea that something really bad is happening.

Jason’s eyes are wide, tired, and exhausted but wide as he sees you come to a dead stop a few feet away from him. Why are you here? You’re not supposed to be here. You should be with Dick and the other Titans. He didn’t see you inside of the restaurant. Not before the gunfire or after. How did he miss you? It can’t be you. He just wanted to show Crane he was right. He wanted to prove he could do this. He chose Excellent Gotham on purpose, a way to show Crane it’s a threat at you without being a real threat. He knows you went to Tim for help. You weren’t supposed to be here.

Jason questions your name, closing the rest of the distance between the two of you.

His hands immediately come to your face for just a second and they send a chill down your spine. His fingers are like icicles and they're clammy, completely different than how they usually are and it breaks your heart. He keeps his right hand on your cheek, while the other hand goes to your waist. His eyes scan you over quickly, desperate to make sure you weren’t hurt in the gunfire. He didn’t take the drug again yet, he was saving it for after. He’s scared. Panicked. Desperate and guilty. You have blood on your hands and on your clothes. Can’t be yours. Not you.

Please not you.

“Are you hurt?” Jason rushes but his voice is weak and fragile, echoed in pain.

You eye him and you’re stuck between wanting to punch him and wanting to kiss him in hopes to make it all better again. He’s slipping so far away from you and you’re scared how far he’s willing to fall. Crane is doing something to him. He has to because he didn’t look like this last night. He didn’t even seem like he cared this much last night. Right at this exact moment, he feels like the old Jason. And you nearly get sucked right back into his gravitational pull.

“What…” The venom is gone from your voice. “What is he doing to you?” You ask, your hand comes to to his face. Not him. Not again.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Jason’s voice breaks.

“You know I’m always here. I was hanging out with Tim. Jason…what the hell is he giving you?” You look him over and you notice him favoring his leg. You haven’t seen him much since he’s been back from the dead but this is the first time since that first day you’re noticing it. You always notice it.

“Are you hurt?” Jason asks again and he can feel his heartbeat in his throat. He wants to spit his own heart right onto the ground in hopes it’ll stop the pain in his chest.

“No. I’m fine. It’s not mine.” You urge, catching him glancing at your free hand. “Jason, what is Crane giving you?”

Jason shakes his head, dropping his other hand to your waist. He misses you. He’s been so damn high all the time, he’s been able to ignore the longing in his chest. The one who always swore was his heart searching for yours. He could ignore it with ease but Crane has been keeping the drug close to his chest and this batch isn’t very good. He can feel it more tonight. It’s wearing off quicker. He can feel the worry for you and the care and the fact he fucking misses you. And the guilt for everything that’s led you both here.

“Same shit.” Jason grits his teeth. “You took it, you know.” He hates the words leaving his lips because they sound bitter and angry but it’s not at you. He just wants you to be okay and he wants to get the fuck out of here.

“No.” You shake your head, your voice soft. “Are you sure it’s the same drug? Jason, you look…is he withholding it from you?” His skin is cold and clammy under your fingers and his hair is flatter than usual.

You’ve seen it, what withdrawal looks like. You saw it on the streets and that’s what Jason looks like. Why would Crane do that? He’s insane and he doesn’t actually give a shit about Jason but Jason has been doing all of his bidding. You figure Jason is here with the drug. That’s why he just stood here while Excellent Gotham was attacked, he probably gave it to them. Surely, that has to be part of the plan. But, if that’s the case, then why does Jason look like he’s been thrown headfirst into withdrawal? And why would Crane be doing this?

“Stay the fuck out of it. I have it. It’s the same shit. It’s fine.” Jason grits his teeth. He wants to break. He wants to lose it for the first time since that first day on the roof with you. It feels like it’s been months since and it’s only been a week. And you look at him with worry and fear and you have always had a way with getting Jason to breathe. But, he can’t afford that right now. Not you. “Please.”

"It's fine?" You spit. "You look terrible, Jason. It's not fucking fine."

"Yeah, it is." Jason removes his hand from your waist and digs in his coat pocket, pulling out a full inhaler. "Fine." He wiggles the inhaler for you to see, the liquid sloshing around in the clear canister.

After all of that, he's going to wave the drug around as if it's fucking easy. He's going to stand here and pretend like it's all fine and well when he almost got you and Tim shot? He's actually lost his damn mind now. If he's going to stick with Crane despite everything, fine. You've stuck by his side since day one all those months ago. Fine. If it's going to be like that, fine because you can't take it anymore. You love him more than anything on this planet but this is not fucking fine. He's not fine and he has got to realize that.

"Fine!?" You shake your head, eyes bugging out of your head in disbelief. "Get off me." You shove his hand off of you as you take a step back. It's not fine. None of this is fucking fine. He's not fine. That drug isn't fine. Working with Crane isn't fine. Doing what he just did isn't fucking fine. It doesn't matter what his reason is. "You...you just got Tim's dad shot. Do you know that? What have the Drakes ever done to you?" You look at him with disgust. "You could have gotten Tim shot, my friend. You could have gotten me shot!" Your voice cracks as you yell at him, your arm flying out to the side. You might be worried about him but you're not going to let him almost kill your friends because you're worried about him.

"That wasn't the plan!" Jason screams in desperation, his words clawing at the hope for you to believe him. "You went to Tim, didn't you!? I know you suck at figuring out codes! Tim is a genius. I just wanted to scare him!" Jason defends his stance, leaving out Crane wanting Jason to target you. If you knew this was a fake threat, maybe that'd be worse.

"Bullshit! Bull-fucking-shit! You gave them the drug! That's why you're here! You did this! You knew what would happen and you did it anyway!" You bark back. "You just wanted to scare him!? Then do it your damn fucking self, Jason! You just didn't want the blood on your damn hands so I couldn't blame you! But you did this!" You point a finger at him and Jason isn't sure he's seen you so mad and...disappointed.

"You weren't supposed to be here! I didn't think they'd shoot anyone!"

That's not a lie. He didn't think. He just did it. He knew they'd go in there and rob them. Maybe they'd have to close down for a little bit. For safety. He didn't think about anything else. Thanks to the drug Jason claims is helping him and curing him.

You don't fucking get it. It doesn't matter that you weren't supposed to be here. That's a load of shit anyway. You're always here. Tim and his family are innocent, regardless on if Tim helped you or not. He doesn't know anything, not for sure. Jason's reasoning is flawed and it's cruel. It fucking hurts.

"Tim is my fucking friend! I don't care I wasn't supposed to be here! You....fuck." You let out a desperate groan, tilting your head back. At some point, enough is enough and he isn't even taking responsibility for this. You just can't do this anymore. You look back to him, eyes turning glassy. "I was fucking fine with you being a crime lord or whatever, taking out those fucks hurting people. But this?" You point at the restaurant. "These are innocent people! Hank was innocent! Dick is innocent! I can't fucking stand here and watch you kill innocent fucking people! And innocent fucking people that I care about and that care about me!" You say it all so quickly, you barely register what it would mean.

No no no no no. He fucked it all up. Like he always does. He just ruined it all. Everything is gone. Everything is going to shit. It's all messed up. He did all of this. How did he even get here? You can't walk away from him. You always swore you wouldn't. Please, not you, too.

You're all he has left.

"What's that supposed to mean, huh?" Jason asks, jerking his up quickly as he tries to give the question some bite.

You let out a heartbroken laugh that's mixed with a cry as you look to the sky and hope a blackhole will open up just to swallow you whole. You have no choice.

You have thrown him life preserver after life preserver, and all he ever had to do was hold on and you'd reel him back to safety. But, all Jason has done is chew right through them and wonder why he's still drowning. You can't keep trying to save someone who doesn't want to be saved. He was always your lifeline but you were clearly, never his.

"You win, Jason." Your voice is defeated as Jason's brows furrow. The lump in your throat grows so large you can barely get the words out. "You win. I can't do it anymore. I'm done. I can't." You shake your head as a tear falls down your cheek. The words taste like blood-covered glass, killing you with every cut and slice.

If you're always on his side, then what he's doing can't be that bad. If you're always on his side, defending him, why would he ever stop? You've tried everything else to get him home and none of it is enough. And it is killing you, knowing this is it. There is one last option because something's gotta give. Maybe if he hits rock bottom, having no one, maybe it'll turn him around. It's the only thing left to do because begging him doesn't work, loving him doesn't work, fighting him doesn't work, arguing doesn't work. Nothing else works and you hate it because you don't mean it, not even a little bit but you have no other options and you're devasted by what he is right now.

So, you say the one thing you can't take back.

A last-ditch effort, knowing he may never forgive you.

"I'm giving up on you. You get what you always wanted. I can't do it. I have tried and tried, but I can't do it anymore." You give him a tired shrug as you dodge his eyes.

If you see the heartbreak in his eyes, you'll take it back and you can't do that. If Jason always has you on his side, why would he turn things around when he hasn't yet? You could have died two nights in a row. He is actively targeting the Titans. You can't meet his eyes because he is targeting innocent people. It might be under Crane's control but, until he gets clear of him and gets clean, this has to be on Jason. Jason has to be the one to deal with the consequences and you will never forgive yourself for it.

Jason's world stops. Not you. Not another person. Why does he always do this? How did he even get here? You were never supposed to be involved. He should have included you from the start. He almost rips the inhaler from his pocket and hits it, right in front of you, anything to get rid of this pain in his chest. It's as if his heart just exploded through his cage, shattering every bone on its way out. How are you doing this?

You're all he has left.

Jason shakes his head, fighting back tears of agony and anger. "You're just like everyone else." Jason's voice cracks.

You knew it was coming but something about it makes you want to burst into tears.

"No." You shrug because he should know how badly this hurts you, too. This is the last thing you want to say to him, ever. "I'm not. I am not like everyone else. Don't ever say that shit again. You have done this. You came after my friend. My innocent friend, Jay." Your voice cracks as you try desperately to hold back your sobs. "All you have done since coming back from the dead, is hurt me." You pause, taking a ragged breath and Jason's face falls. Is that true? "And I have done everything to protect you. To be by your side. And you have done nothing but hurt me. So, no. I am not like everyone else. You just gave me no choice, Jay." You're quick to wipe a few tears away as your voice is weak and soft, lacking all fire and bite it had just seconds earlier.

He can't do it. He could try to make up for this. He could try to explain. He could just quit. That would do the job just fine. But, he doesn't. The heartbreak kicks in with anger and he just wants to be spiteful just like he always is as if fighting the person is going to change their mind. He knows it won't change yours but he does it anyway because he's hurt and the hurt has nowhere to go besides the open and cold air of this soulless city.

"You swore you never would but look at you now!" A lump grows in Jason's throat. "You said you don't break promises. Crane was right about you." Jason sneers as he closes the distance between you, looking down at you but he's not threatening or intimidating. You see the heartbreak in his eyes. You will feel guilty about this in every life you live.

Jason Todd has always deserved better.

"Okay." You shake your head slowly. "Sure, Crane doesn't know me. But you do. You know me. And you know I'd never be giving up if you left me another option. But, sure, believe Crane. Fuck it, right?" You scoff and all you want to do is cry. Or break every bone in your body because maybe that would be less painful. "I'm sick of losing my family." Your voice is quiet, barely a whisper. "All I ever wanted was you. And you died." You shrug your shoulders, keeping your eyes on him. "And all I wanted was you." You say quietly and Jason wants to shatter, his breath catching in his throat as his vision starts to go blurry. "And still, all I want is you but...I don't know what else to do."

You can see your breaths mixing together in the winter air between you. Everything led you both here and all you both want to do is take it back. The winter air chisels at your face and hands, hacking away at every hope you could have had. Jason's eyes are locked on yours, dissolving into heartbreak and you think this is what hypothermia must feel like.

But, Jason is too scared of what will happen if he does take it all back. He's still under Crane's manipulation. He's too stubborn. And you're terrified what will happen if you back down. If you back out of it, who will he target next?

"So, that's just it? I didn't mean to hurt anyone in there. It's not my fault." Jason huffs and the anger starts to evaporate as the heartbreak comes in the form of agony and devastation.

"Sure." You nod and you don't want him to feel like he's trapped with Crane. You have to give up because that's your option. But, you can offer him someone else and maybe that'll be enough. This all boils to Dick anyway. "The same way your drug isn't Crane's fault. Look, I'm done. I can't do it. Dick though, he believes in you still. So, if you want to come home, call him. Don't contact me. If you get clean, then you can. Until then, don't call me. Don't text me. Nothing. And stay the fuck away from the Drakes, Molly, and Gar." You try to hide the quiver in your voice but Jason catches it.

"Please, don't walk away." Jason says softly and you nearly collapse into the ground. His words are like knives aiming right for your heart. How does he do that?

You rest a hand on his cheek. "I can't leave it like that so, I'll always love you, Jay but...I want the old you back." You nod as your hand falls from his cheek. You turn around, going to leave him but you hear Jason take a few slow steps after you before they stop.

Jason's voice cracks as he says your name, his version becoming so blurry he can't see. "I...I'm sorry." Jason says quietly, looking to the ground as a tear falls from his eyes. "Don't...please," He looks back up to you. "Don't give up on me. I have a plan and it's all gonna work out. This was just an accident."

You swear he's never going to forgive you for this. This is the hardest thing you've ever done. Even if he understands one day, he'll never forgive you and it's the hardest pill to swallow.

"Yeah, I'm sure it was." You nod softly. "I can't save you. You don't want to be saved, not yet. You have to save yourself, now, Jay. And for what it's worth, I..." You pause watching tears come to Jason's eyes. "I love you, Jay." You nod your head as you sniffle. "And I am so fucking sorry I couldn't save you. From Deathstroke, from the Titans, from the Joker...from Bruce. And from Crane. I'm sorry I was another person that let you down and I'm really fucking sorry I'm walking away." You shake your head as you lick your lips. "But I don't think you'll get it through your head if I'm in your corner. I've tried everything to stay." You suck in a breath as a few tears fall from your eyes. "I tried to stay for once because being with you was worth it to me. But I don't think it's helping you so...get clean and we can talk. The second you get clean, I'll be here." You nod once as the ambulance finally starts to arrive. "Those are for us. You should leave." You turn back around and head back inside of the building, leaving Jason in the cold.

How could he fuck up this bad? He just wanted to show Crane he was right. He just wanted to prove himself and instead, he's the one standing out here all alone. Guilt and shame gnawing at the last good parts of him. And he just can't do it anymore. The pain and the fear and guilt and everything about it. It's too much and too heavy and maybe he's a little spiteful. So, he puts the inhaler to his lips and takes a hit.

They said it was a skinny batch but he didn't realize it would feel like this. It's numbing a lot of everything but not enough and it all still feels too heavy. When things get heavy, he always went to you but he just fucked that up. It's his fault it's heavy. This is all his fault and you're supposed to be on his side but you're not. He's all alone again and all he has is Crane. It's not supposed to be like this. How the fuck did he even get here?

All he wanted was to be somebody to someone. To be enough.

Back in the restaurant, the paramedics are getting Mr. Drake into the ambulance, rushing him off to Gotham General. Tim watches with sad and hollowed eyes, his hands are covered in blood and his shirt is soaked. You squeeze your eyes shut, looking away before you shake it off. You can't lose it over Tim's dad. That's not fair.

"Do...do you need a ride?" You clear your throat as the ambulance drives away. "I have my bike. I can take you." You offer with a steady and firm nod.

"Uh...yeah," Tim looks at his hands, something lost in his voice. "That...that would be great. Thanks."

"Of course." You nod, reaching down for this hand. Your hands have been covered in blood enough times to almost seem normal. "Come on."

The two of you head outside to your bike and you wonder how you're supposed to explain this. Dick talked to you months ago, when you first came to the tower. It was all about vigilante life and what it entailed. It would be making hard decisions but knowing those hard decisions would be for the greater good. It's not killing people because enough people hurt and kill innocent people enough. Vigilantes, heroes, don't do that. It was about keeping the identities of everyone a secret to protect yourself and them. You've never had much of an issue keeping secrets.

You hold your own close to your chest, lock them away where even you forget they exist sometimes. But, those secrets aren't these. Those secrets only ever hurt you, only ever made you feel alone. These secrets that you're forced to keep hurt everyone you care about. They hurt Molly because you couldn't tell her about Bluejay or Robin or Jason or Red Hood. You and Jason would bail on her and you'd both would show up riddled with bruises and aches and pains. It hurt her because it worried her. It hurt her because Jason died and she never got to know him as Robin, the part of him that meant the world to him. She only got to know a portion of him.

But telling Molly meant telling her about Dick and Bruce and the other Titans. It wasn't your secret to tell because it would out all of them. And she still doesn't know he's alive because telling her means leaking something Jason wanted to keep a secret and that's going to hurt her even more.

This hurts Tim because his dad was just shot and he just saw Jason Todd who's supposed to be dead. Now, he's going to think his friend is lying to him about your boyfriend being dead. Lying about an alter ego is one thing, lying about someone dying is cruel. Even if you weren't close.

And it hurts Gar because Gar ends up in the crossfire of everything. He's the one up worrying when you and Dick don't come home. He's the one scared for what Jason is going to do because you couldn't tell him about the drug in order to protect Jason and keep his secrets for him. And then there's Jason.

You can't tell Jason what's going on with the Titans because of Crane. You can't tell him everything you want to desperately scream from the rooftops. That you're sorry and you don't mean it and it hurts you, too. You can't tell him you're scared Crane is going to snap and kill him. It'll drive the wedge further between you. All of these secrets are piling on top of each other, slowly building to the tallest building in Gotham and it's only a matter of time before the whole thing collapses. All it does is hurt everyone you care about. That doesn't seem very heroic.

"Here, take my helmet." You offer the helmet to him once you reach your bike.

"Uh, no it's okay." Tim shakes his head. You're driving.

"Put the helmet on." You say sternly as you mount your bike, sending a glare to Tim.

Something about the look you give him makes Tim grab the helmet. "Right, okay." Tim nods and puts the helmet on before he gets on the back.

"Hold on." You state before Tim holds onto your waist.

You drive to Gotham General, pulling up to one of the entrances without blocking the ambulance entrance. Tim gets off and takes off the helmet, handing it back to you. He knows you know something. And if he's being honest, he's annoyed you didn't tell him. You aren't that close but...his dad just got shot and Jason fucking Todd knew about it. It was a hit. He stood outside and did nothing. Why wouldn't his own girlfriend know he's alive and planning a hit? You have acid generation and combat clairvoyance while also being an excellent marksman. Tim swears it can't be some coincidence you were there tonight.

"I'm really sorry about your dad." You state softly, holding the helmet on your thigh.

"Thanks." Tim looks back at the hospital. "That was Jason Todd outside, wasn't it?"

You nod softly and you know you can't deny that. Tim saw him "Yeah."

"I thought he was dead." Tim questions as his voice holds hints of venom, something you haven't heard before.

"Yeah." You nod again and you hate yourself for tonight. For everything. "Don't, uh, don't tell anyone. It's a long story." You hang your head, dodging the look Tim is surely giving you.

"You knew?" Tim scoffs, looking at you with annoyance and disappointment. Why the hell would you let everyone believe he were dead? "He faked his death or?"

You look back to him and all this sucks. You're sick of lying and hiding secrets. It's tiring and lonely. It's so fucking lonely.

"No." You shake your head. "He, uh...he really, uh...he really died." You suck in a shakey breath before you shake your head quickly. "I-I can't tell you anything else." You let out a bitter scoff. "That's shit and I know that. I'm sorry."

"Did he target us because of you? Because of the Titans?" All Tim wants is some clarity. There had to be reason. Tim helped you with a code. That's what it was.

"Not a Titan." You sigh with exhaustion, lacking any and all fight you'd normally have with the statement. "I don't know why." You lie but you're sick of this. Keeping these secrets is making you out to be the bad guy with everyone and you're not. You're just trying to protect everyone you care about so, you're not going to tell him in so many words but you're not going to cover it up either. "Um...yeah...maybe it was because of me but uh...I, uh, I never...I never thought he'd figure it out or....or come after you. I should have left you out of it."

Tim nods bitterly and he wants to understand but his dad could have been killed. "That code, it wasn't a murder mystery thing, was it?" Tim asks and you just suck in a breath, not offering him anything else. Technically, you aren't lying and technically you aren't telling him anything. He already knows. You don't need to so he nods. "I saw what you did. You knew they were going to start shooting. I was right."

You shake your head, looking to the sky and it's gloomy as always but it looks like it might snow. You scoff looking back to Tim. "I saw the guns."

"Bullshit, you know," Tim gestures a hand to you. "You're supposed to be a hero, like Batman and Robin but..." Tim shakes his head.

"Fuck Batman." You mutter as your jaw clenches.

"You're supposed to help people." Tim says sternly.

The lump in your throat grows and you bite your cheek so hard the taste of iron floods your mouth. It's not supposed to be this hard. And why does helping people have to be so black and white? Good and bad? It's not. Whether anyone likes it or not, the guys you want to target and take out permanently and the guys Jason was going after, that was helping. Making sure they can't hurt anyone else ever again. That's helping. Dick thinks he can help all of the Titans and he fucks up sometimes which gets people hurt, but he still helps. Sometimes people get hurt and that sucks but does that really make everyone else irrelevant? Does that really make everything else wrong? Or the motive and reasoning?

Helping people shouldn't be black and white, good and bad, morally good and morally evil. There needs to be a grey area because you have people like the Joker who needed to be killed for the greater good of everyone in Gotham. And you have people like Jason who isn't in his right mind and is being manipulated but should still be helped. It sucks Tim's dad got shot and you will regret going to Tim for help forever, but you're helping him by not telling him anything, even if you want to and even if he doesn't see it that way.

"I am literally begging you to please go inside and leave this alone, Tim." You force the words through gritted teeth. "I can't fucking tell you anything else, okay? I want to. If it were up to me, I'd fucking tell you what's going on but I can't. It's not my shit to say." You look to the ground and then back up to Tim, rolling your shoulders softly. "So, I'm sorry." You shake your head, giving up and cluing him enough. Technically, you're not admitting to anything, just admitting that you know what's going on.

"You just confirmed it." Tim says softly. "I'm gonna figure out what's going on and--"

"Tim! Please, go be with your dad. Trust me." You practically beg him because if he digs into this, what's going to stop Jason from actually going after him? Tonight might have been a threat or whatever, but at this point, you don't know if he would actually go after someone like Tim. You need him to just take what you're saying and understand it.

"That's my dad."

"I know and I know it sucks. I get it which is why I'm telling you to go be with him." You say softly as your voice cracks.

Tim nods softly, understanding why you're saying it. "Thanks for the ride."

"Just...text me about your dad, okay?" You ask. "I'm really fucking sorry."

"I will." Tim nods because he's beginning to think maybe this isn't on you. He might know who you are but you aren't as cut and dry as Batman and Robin always were. You're more morally grey and maybe it is more complicated because it involves Jason. You look terrified. "Thanks for saving me."

You nod quickly. "Of course." You say softly. "Good luck." You suck in a breath, popping the helmet on and taking off.

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A/n: I still promise reader and Jason get a happy ending lmao This just had to happen lol but I do make up for it a little bit next chapter (pretty sure it's next chapter)

Tag list: @fairyofshampoo // @italiana-20 // @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @mayfieldss // @ghostkingblake // @im-done-with-this-im-out // @velvetskies // @lilylovelyxo // @cryinghotmess // @yesimwriting // @vivian-555 // @stainedstardom // @baebeepeach // @legend-o-zelda // @harleycao // @somehow-lovable-trash // @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx // @deyja-the-duck // @jasontoddslover // @captainmarvels-blog // @totallynotkaibiased // @scarlovesyou // @whydoyoucare866 // @littlemeowmeow1000 // @ginger24880 // @septixtrash // @kplatzman // @urmomsgayforme5

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #red hood fanfic #red hood fanfiction #titans fanfic #titans fanfiction #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction #petrichor

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sharedramblings · 1 year

Text

Don't Blame Me

Summary: She wasn't suppose to see it, but Larissa caught you having the performance of your life.

Warning: Second-hand embarrassment might be felt.

Author's note: This is the last fic I've worked on before deciding to create this blog! There's actually another version of this that's already written because I can't make up my mind. So, would anyone be interested to see it?

Edit: The other version

—-—-

Your day off was currently being spent reminiscing and smiling to yourself as you were busy looking through pictures upon pictures of you and Larissa, in various dates and scenery.

A lot of the images are solo pictures of her. Some she's aware of and is smiling at the camera, others you took without her knowledge. You equally cherish both. How the former allows you to see that sweet smile you so love any time, and the latter grants you different versions of her– how she observes and looks around, how she looks when she can barely contain herself, how she is when she's caught off guard– among many others.

Then there were pictures of the two of you, beaming at the camera, holding each other's hands, hugging, selfies, a few candid shots, shared kisses forever captured thanks to the photo, and a whole lot of standing on landmarks you've visited to commemorate that specific day.

A dreamy sigh escapes you, overpowered by the love you have for the woman. A love that runs so deep, ever growing and expanding.

The music you chose as you swipe through the pictures lingered in the air, and you let yourself zone out, the emotions you have for the principal still swirling actively inside you.

You're sure she's in her office, busy working and running the school. It's still hours from lunch so you can't exactly just go up and about to visit her. You don't want to bother her when she's working, especially since you know how important her job is for her. But you can barely contain your feelings for her. Looking through the photographs triggered such a drastic flow to your emotions. You needed an outlet, and no, it couldn't be the woman who got you feeling like a lovesick teenager because one, she's occupied, and two, your restraint and inherent shyness are still intact and firmly holding you.

That's when the song changed to another, Taylor Swift's voice ringing in the quiet space.

Don't blame me, love made me crazy

If it doesn't, you ain't doing it right

Lord, save me, my drug is my baby

I'll be usin' for the rest of my life

That's exactly what you feel right now. Your whole body is thrumming with adoration for her, and it's making you feel crazy and lightheaded. You look at the time, ensuring that you've got plenty of it before you go have lunch with the said gorgeous lady you happen to be with.

And so you've decided. You can't truly contain the emotions within you any longer. What better way to release it all than to sing it out with a song?

The next lines don't really connect with you. No, you haven't been in many relationships, let alone with guys. You have been in exactly two before Larissa. One when you were in university, and the other one is just an almost kind of thing, a mutual understanding of sorts. Despite that, you still sang along, restless in your feet as you feel the beat of the song.

For you, I would cross the line

I would waste my time

I would lose my mind

They say, "She's gone too far this time"

Thank heavens that Larissa's quarters– no that's not exactly right– your shared space were a bit far off the busy part of the academy. The thick walls also allowed for a great amount of privacy, one that you're more consciously aware and thankful for as you started growing loud in volume.

You gradually let the lyrics carry you, your movements free of your usual calm and collected demeanor.

Don't blame me, love made me crazy

If it doesn't, you ain't doing it right

Lord, save me, my drug is my baby

I'll be usin' for the rest of my life

You were so caught up on the song singing your heart out that you can't help but close your eyes, mind racing with thoughts of her. You were certain that you're about to lose your mind, and oh what a delightful reason that is– to lose your mind because of love. Because of her.

—

Larissa walks the path towards her quarters, quite lost in thought as she thinks back where she could have placed the missing folder. Maybe she forgot to take it with her after bringing it home last night. It won't hurt to check. The reason for her spontaneous trip back to your shared home was a hassle for her, but the prospect of surprising you makes her smile.

Once she's in front of the door, she did her best to stealthily open it, careful not to make any noise that could have given her presence away.

Her eyebrows shot up when she heard you singing loudly, the music only slightly heard in the background. She made her way towards the bedroom where she suspects she can find you, the excitement she felt for possibly surprising you turned into excitement of seeing you like this.

She stopped at the doorway, her heart immediately bursting at the sight of you. Your left hand serves as an impromptu microphone, while your right hand punctuates every word with their unrestricted movements.

She only seldom sees you so carefree, so full of energy, and so uninhibited, that moments like this are something she deeply treasure. You don't always burst with this kind of energy, but when you do, she loves to watch and indulge you. Nevertheless, she loves you either way. She loves you when you're quiet and reserved, and she loves you still when you're buzzing with excitement and has lots of mischief to do.

Hearing you sing aloud like this was a first. Sure, she's heard you sing. But it's more of humming a tune, whispering the lyrics, mumbling along when you're not that familiar with a song yet. This one's a lot different than that. She can hear you stress the words and feel it like it's yours.

I get so high, oh

Every time you're, every time you're lovin' me

You're lovin' me

She follows your every move to the rhythm, and all she wanted was to kiss you senseless but she held back. No matter how difficult it was. She'd rather hear you through the end of the song than interrupt you so abruptly.

Trip of my life, oh

Every time you're, every time you're touchin' me

You're touchin' me

You suddenly turned towards her, and she couldn't stop the sudden sharp intake of breath at being found out. Her body went rigid for a second, but relaxed once again as she saw your eyes were closed.

There was a beat of just the instrumental before you sang again.

Every time you're, every time you're lovin' me

God, it's taking every ounce of restraint to stop herself from running to you. She bites at her bottom lip, eyes shining with love and admiration.

You took a deep breath, preparing for what she feels is an intense part of the song.

Oh Lord, save me, my drug is my baby

I'll be usin' for the rest of my life

Usin' for the rest of my life, ohh-oh

You sang that last line as if your life depends on it, all your remaining emotions poured in. Your head was tilted upwards, right arm extended outward.

Don't blame me, love made me crazy

If it doesn't, you ain't doin' it right (doin' it right, no)

This was when you opened your eyes, immediately being made aware of the presence on the doorway. You visibly jumped, face heating up with embarrassment when you see Larissa beaming and grinning at you. You scrambled to pick up your phone and pause the song, but the hand that snatched your phone has other plans.

She was so close, and you feel like you're going to die out of the embarrassment of being watched. You were so caught up in your own world that you haven't noticed her presence like you normally would.

"That's a lovely performance" You bit your lip as you slightly pushed her away, your breathing uneven from the exerted effort in singing and from her sudden appearance.

She caught your arm before you could retract it, pulling you even closer. You didn't dare look at her, aware that her gaze is on you.

"How long have you been there?"

"Sadly not long enough for my taste." You groaned at her response, hiding yourself from her in the crook of her neck. You've already embarrassed yourself enough in front of her, you'd rather not give her the opportunity of seeing how flustered you are.

She chuckles and you circle your arms in her waist, her arms wrapping you in return. Her hands rub your back, and for a while you thought she'll let it go.

"Was that dedicated to me?" Her question made your eyebrows knit in confusion.

"Who else would it be?" you whispered, your breath skating over her skin.

"Hmm, just wanted to hear you say it." You thought that was the end of it. That the following seconds would be spent in a silent and warm embrace, but you're wrong. Because she's only started.

"Is this truly the trip of your life, darling?" You whined, feet stomping on the floor once you realized what she was referring to. You didn't think it was possible but your face heats up even more. She can feel how hot your face was and relishes at the feeling.

"I'm your drug?" she gasped as she felt you pinch her side but she was relentless. "Oh, and I'm your baby? Hmm, please tell me more" Her voice was so full of light teasing it's further digging the already deep bashfulness you're feeling.

"Stooop!" Your one-word reply was muffled in her skin and she giggled as she felt the second pinch. Oh, how quickly she can turn you into such a lovely mess.

"May I know when's the next one? I'd love to be earlier to watch from the beginning" You only shook your head, biting her neck lightly. She lets out a yelp, not expecting that bit to happen.

You lift your head in its hiding place, finally having built enough courage to look at her. "You weren't supposed to be here"

You busy your teeth with your bottom lip when she doesn't respond. She was just staring at you, lovingly, softly. And you can't and don't want to break the moment despite the lingering embarrassment you still feel.

"What are you doing here?" Now that you've calmed a whole lot, your mind has finally had the time to assess the situation.

She shakes her head, "Doesn't matter." The papers in her office says otherwise, but that's not important right now. Her hands went from being clasped around your back to cupping your cheeks.

"Can I kiss you, darling?" She didn't have to ask. She could just go for it and you'll allow her completely. So instead of answering, you decided to close the distance. She picked up on it and met you halfway, her lips seeking yours in a passionate kiss.

The emotions she felt as she watched you earlier were poured in that kiss. Long, passionate, and absolutely addicting. She kissed you with so much fervor that you're slightly dizzy when it ends.

"I love you" your heart melts with how soft she said it.

"I love you too, Larissa" you placed a kiss on the left of her chest where her heart lies. Something you always do when those three words are uttered. Like some sort of seal on the promise of what that love entails.

"I'll see you at lunch?"

"Of course." she replied. You smiled at her, only for it to be changed into a glare and a pout when she added, "Any chance of knowing the title of the song?"

You pushed her away and she laughed at your reaction.

"Darling, you know I won't stop unless you tell me"

You shook your head stubbornly. It's better for your sake if she doesn't know. You were certain you'll hear the song playing again and again if she got her hands on the title. But you were also sure that she meant it when she said that she won't stop.

"Alright. I'll just ask you again later. See you after..." she checks her watch, "two hours. I'll be in my office" You nodded and accompanied her to the door after she retrieved something, exchanging a sweet peck in the lips before bidding her bye again.

You close the door when her retreating form was no longer visible, leaning on the back of it with a sigh. You can't believe you were caught, but her charmed reaction almost makes up for it. But then again, the whole thing happened because of her so you decided it's quite alright.

You can vividly imagine now how lunch would go. It would include Larissa humming the tune of the song as best as she could remember, asking you how a certain line goes, repeatedly inquiring for the title of the song, bringing up something you did while you're singing that she simply can't get enough of, and you would be glaring and whining and smiling as your face flushed from her insistence. You shook your head fondly as you feel your heartbeat speed up. You can't wait for lunch despite how you imagine it going.

#larissa weems #larissa weems x reader

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night-market-if · 11 months

Text

Dev Blog 7/1/23

Hello my reader!

I'm here with a mini development blog for you all. So far I have added to the base game something like 40k more words. This is not including coding. I have also cleaned up some code errors that wouldn't let you get past the Deep, and negated a conversation with Hazel in the last chapter.

All I have left now is a clean up of some minor name codes and the editing of all the NSFW scenes. Then I can have a few people beta it and I can redo the UI of the game.

I would also like to say that the asexual route within the game is going to change a bit. The more I have learned about asexuality, the more it has come to my attention that there are a vast amount of ways that this can be represented. So, I have decided to address this by allowing an option to have a conversation about this with your RO before any NSFW scene. It can be that the MC doesn't like sex at all to the MC not opposed to it when it feels right. I know this is going to not satisfy some people but this is kind of what I feel comfortable writing. I feel like, at this point in my writing career, I just don't know how to approach it in the variation that asexuality actually is. That might change as I continue writing but for now, that's how I would like to keep it.

That being said, the sexuality code in general has also changed. You no longer have a code saying you are attracted to just men or just women. You can flirt with whoever you want without consequence. You can also deny anyone you want without consequence. Instead, I will just be coding in when you choose which RO you wish to explore the Night Market with. Polys will of course come after all of that. I felt this was also a fair representation. If you are someone who does not want to flirt with a certain gender, then don't chose the flirt options for it. It will then not open any of the flirtation scenes. Or, you know, tell Milo and Bella to just back off. :)

Now onto some personal stuff.

I am stressed. I mean, like really stressed. I thought I would have everything done by today and I am not done. Mainly, I feel bad for my Kickstarter backers. I have so much I owe them and everything is only in about the 70% done area. I am so sorry guys. I have been beating myself up over this for a while now when it became clear that this was far more work than I thought. It's crazy to me. I'm absent from Tumblr and Discord at this point and yet I have been busier with work than I've ever been.

I'm also terrified I'm just not doing enough to the base game. Things that I thought would fit great, ended up not fitting at all. Things that I thought would be an easy addition turned out to be way out of the realm of my capability. It's just all been a learning experience where I've felt like I'm letting you guys down.

And at the end of the day? I really just want to write Book 2.

I know I owe no one an explanation. I've just had this weird feeling I've had to battle the last few months where I am feeling like I have to choose between my family life and my work life. And I hate it. My husband took two weeks off work just so I could work like crazy and I am still not done which is bothering me. Which means weekends are sometimes spent not with my kids but instead working away again. And, because we are a split family, it isn't always like I can make up for this time mid week.

I'm not really looking for advice on this. I'm just kind of trying to be transparent. The stress is for sure getting to me and believe me, I am looking forward to this going up on Steam more than anyone at this point. And then I'm sure I'll spiral because I'll be certain somehow barely anyone will buy it. LOL! But hey, at least I just got two more cats to add to my life. They can purr away my stress that night.

That's everything guys. Thank you for being who you are and I promise you, I am taking care o myself. I'm just a stressed person by nature, I think.

I hope everyone else is having a good summer and you all are getting some wonderful reading time in. If you celebrate the 4th, here's to hoping you have lots of good food that day!

With love,

Zinnia

#dev blog #writing #interactive fiction #personal life #the night market

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kyra45 · 2 months

Note

Yeah I'm jerk if you're going to be a jerk. I call scammers beggars because that's basically what they do in my opinion. You've been asked nicely for help and you got very defensive and offended that they didn't research them. That person looked up to you by the way, was trying to help catching scammers since we have to deal with them on a regular basis on many platforms and in reality. Wanted your opinion but once again she lost trust to people and thinks that she did something wrong. Well have fun on Tumblr guys and I hope that you stop as many scammers as you can

Funny how your mood changed real quick after calling me sketchy. Scammers aren’t beggars, you wasn’t calling them beggars. You was saying everyone asking for help is a beggar:

“And no I'm not reading blogs of every single beggar out there.”

Secondly, I was offended that you didn’t look at the OP of the post you likely saw to figure out was my own account which only posts verified charities and you, as quoted, asked me if i was butthurt:

“Damn you seem really butt hurt don't you? “

Lastly, you asked me to check if someone was a scammer and I told you, very simply:

“Anon did you even try to contact the person before asking me or did you see them share the post from my own blog. Because I only got this ask when someone shared their reblog from my other account and I personally feel like your just assuming it’s a scammer right off the bat without bothering to look at the account the GoFundMe is posted from. Otherwise I’ve verified it’s a legitimate account. But you could have just asked them. Nicely.”

And your response to that was, as quoted:

“Do you expect me to nicely ask a potential scammer if they're scammer? The answer is obvious.”

And

“I will only trust someone by approving that the person they claim to be really exist, maybe through social media or other ways that can officially confirm them.”

Implying that you could have actually looked up the information yourself but you opted to ask me instead of asking the person who would have been able to tell you what you wanted to know better than I would have been able to elaborate.

Also:

“Your "instructions on how to spot a scammer" show some basic schemes which every dumbass can copy and paste. They do much more than that. Although most of them just like you get angry easily when confronted :D”

Scammers don’t change their tactics all that often and basic isn’t bad it just makes it easier to understand and I am not claiming I’m the best as making guides. I know what scammers do. Also you wasn’t confronting me. You just called by behavior sketchy just because I was annoyed. There’s a difference between a scammer being sketchy when confronted and someone being annoyed when people don’t do a simple task.

I wasn’t being a jerk. I called you one for how you was acting. The rudeness of saying ‘dumbasses’ can do this and that people who ask for mutual aid are all ‘beggar scammers’.

Scam busters are trying their best but it’s difficult when people don’t want to do their own stuff before asking someone else. If you had done what I said you would have know the account was legitimate but instead this mess happened.

It’s a shame you call yourself a scam buster and this is how you’re treating me. Just because you didn’t like my reply.

Also my fanbase? Going after you? Do you think I just sick my followers on anyone who pisses me off. No, I don’t. I specifically tell people don’t harass anyone I mention here and make it clear that anyone who does so are doing it themselves.

#kyra45 speaks #answer

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repo-net · 4 months

Text

OMORI Rank-up Tier List #1: Main Cast

Alright, I've recently finished OMORI and I've given myself a bit of time to sit on it, think about the characters and how everything panned out. And hey, it's a pretty writing-centric game, I'm running a pretty writing-centric blog, so why not start with a short two-part series of appreciation posts for the game in the form of a tier list?

I definitely have a lot less to say about the side characters, so I won't be bothering giving them their own post, I'll be clumping them with the next one which is going to be a review of the locations/boss fights throughout the game that I was able to experience.

I'll note right now for anyone that this is the opinions of someone who finished OMORI about a few days after he posted this and only finished the true ending route (because as much as I love it, I am not willing to put myself through the game again just to go through and see the content in other routes when I can just look it up on YouTube), so this may change sometime in the future. I know for a fact that I was battling like hell with myself when I was ranking these six... anyways.

Obviously, spoilers are inbound, so if you haven't played OMORI and want to check it out for yourself, come back to this post later once you've completed it. If you're ready to look at whatever take this brain of mine has, then here it is under the cut!

Oh, and a few more messages before we get to the meat of it all - I'm going to be clumping and judging the characters with a combination of their aspects from both the dream world and the real world. While I obviously think that the real-world versions of the characters are the 'complete' arcs of themselves and the dream world versions are just watered down versions of them created by Sunny/Omori in their liking, I think it's worth bringing them up anyways since they serve as the background for each character before the horrible tragedy that hit them.

I also think that every single character in the main cast is written fantastically and are all at least A-tier characters in my heart, except for a select few in the top 2 that I think are more than worthy of being put into the S-tier if I were actually putting them into tiers instead of just ranking them.

Alright - let's do this for real this time!

#6 - Mari

You know how much it sucks having to pick a least favorite among a selection of things that you all really like? It's like me having to choose which of my kids I want to put up for adoption, blegh. Unfortunately, someone had to take this and begrudgingly, I'll have to slide everyone's favorite older sister here. I really hope this one isn't controversial...

So, here's the thing about Mari, right? In the perspective of a writer, I think she absolutely has the most going for her in terms of the amount of content you can produce for her in comparison to the rest of the cast. I think the sheer magnitude of possibilities and scenarios that you can write using Mari is pretty much endless, whether it be fluffy alternative universes where she lives or angsty, gut-wrenching punches of how not so great her time with Sunny ended. And believe me, that's just scraping the surface of what you can do with her!

Mari's a constant presence throughout the entirety of the game, whether it be in the form of Something looking over Sunny and Omori, being the support for everyone in the friend group as you go through the dream world, or her unfortunate death being the reason everyone in the real world turned out the way they did. And as much as I want to like Mari more, she's a very charming character and I think her relationship with Hero is one of the highlights of the game, I constantly find myself appreciating it (as a writer who enjoys angst) from Hero's side more because of how he responds to it. There just... isn't much for me to look at, honestly? Her dream world self is a sweetheart, bless her - but when we talk about how fleshed out she really is, there's not much for me to say other than what's already been shown to you in the story.

The best parts of Mari are in the symbolism scattered throughout the game in Sunny's subconscious and the short scenes we get of her throughout the game. I think I can attribute this to one of the criticisms I have of Omori; I really, really think Mari's character would've benefited from having more scenes of her failings (the pressure to get the duet with Sunny right; her perfectionist attitude being the reason he snaps being the fatal flaw that causes her death) actually play out instead of being left up to interpretation and details in the flavor text of the game.

Shit stinks. I really wish we could've seen that more- ironically enough, the imperfect side of Mari. Because the way I interpreted it, Sunny's motivation for playing the violin was so he could spend more time with Mari regardless of how much stress it puts on him and how much time it takes away from getting to chill with his friends. And when even that stops being fun for Sunny because of the pressure he feels considering it was the day of the recital and he still wasn't playing it perfectly, he lashes out and breaks the violin. In comparison, Mari wanted to perfect it cause... uhh, I dunno? Would sure be nice if we got more context on why she acted like that, considering the stark contrast of what she's like in the dream world...

If you really want to be harsh about it, Mari just ended up being a plot device for Sunny's own story, unfortunately. There exists a personality in there in the form of her dream world self; but it's angelic, too much so (which we obviously know why, it's Sunny's interpretation of Mari, a person who could do no wrong). I wish there was more about how Mari really was - as a sibling, as a girlfriend, and just as a person than the stories we get from the other characters that we have to fill in the blanks ourselves.

But hey, that's what fanfics are for, yeah? You go, Mari enjoyers. I love all of y'all. (Has been in the fandom for like no more than a week)

#5 - Basil

You hate to see it. Sorry, I know a lot of the fandom adores this boyo (I know a friend of mine does and I apologize in advance to you) and I do too, but I think it speaks volumes of how much I love this cast when a character of the floral lad's level can land himself in a spot like this. Man, why'd I put the two sweetest and kindest characters in the main cast at the bottom? I'm horrible, lmfao.

Ahh, Basil. In fairness, I think he has my second favorite design in the game only behind Aubrey from the real world, and if there's a character I'd want to roleplay as - I think my mind would go to Basil too, actually. There's so much good I can say about Basil that it makes me wonder; how in the world did he end up all the way over here?

Is it because of the horrible shit he pulled (seriously, how does a 12 year old come up with that? oh wait, my blog is nagisa shingetsu themed. nevermind, it's totally reasonable.) that he ended up here? Nope, heck I think he's way more interesting of a character because of it; seeing just how badly he was willing to protect his best friend and save him, only to create a rift between the two that becomes the focal point of the entire plot. That's good fucking shit right there. Love when characters have good intentions in mind and it just ruins their life.

The striking thing about Basil is that he has a very complete personality that makes him easy to latch onto; Basil is a kind soul with a strong sense of empathy and understanding of others, he loves photography and flowers, going as far as to have descriptions of his best friends in the wake of said flowers. He's a little troubled, hates fighting, but he's trying his best in spite of that to keep a smile on his face. He's a good boy and I think if you showed a normal person who knows nothing about the game the main cast, I think most people would say Basil's either the most interesting or their favorite character just by how nicely wrapped his presentation is when you disregard all the spoilery stuff about him.

Where it stops for me though is this - for someone who plays such an important role in the story and how the main conflict in pretty much 75% of the game is centered around him, Basil sure enjoys being absent because unfortunately, said conflict is the fact that he's missing. I'm not going to use this as a diss on Basil's character because it isn't his fault that he's pretty much required to be shrouded in mystery, and I don't even know what suggestions I'd have to improve it because you can't be showing Basil off too much.

But we're at a crossroads here. I think we didn't see Basil enough in the story, but at the same time... what could you do in OMORI that fixes that issue while also not overexposing him at the same time? Another unlucky spot that Basil's put in is the fact that some of the scenes where he's present in the real-world are overshadowed by another character capturing me more (Aubrey). It's not that there's a lack of him, but it's... ugh. It's so hard to explain.

It's tough. Because Basil's struggles is just so incredibly heartbreaking and I really, really do feel for him and just want to give the guy a hug after all that he's been through. Being driven to the point where you and your best friends are fighting each other, even gouging out his fucking eye??? It's horrific. I don't think the first thought that came to Basil's mind during the incident was 'let's hide this evidence as fast as we can', but more of a 'oh god, i need to save my best friend'. He's got so much weighing down on him.

At the end of the day, I don't even think Basil's underutilized. It just feels like he is, and I can't shake it off enough to put him above all the other characters here. Sorry, flower boy. I get the feeling you'll grow on me more as time passes, though.

#4 - Sunny

Hey, it's the protagonist! I usually put guys like you a lot higher than this, especially considering just how much I was rooting for you... and you did! So happy for you, my man. I'll forever be grateful I stumbled upon the best possible ending for the gang on my first and only playthrough of the game. Oh right, we should be talking about him instead of me. Sorry about that.

While some people like to consider Omori and Sunny as separate entities and prefer to rank them exclusive of one another, I'm personally going to take the other route and do as I've been doing with everyone else here; collectively using both dream world and real-world versions to judge the character as a whole.

And that plays the biggest factor me when it comes to ranking Omori/Sunny. Because I don't think Omori is a separate person from who Sunny is - I think Omori is an aspect of Sunny that formed as a result of the trauma that the incident with Mari caused. Omori is Sunny's coping mechanism, less of a shield, more of a wall; but I think the best word to describe him is a bubble that keeps Sunny's most horrific memories from resurfacing.

When I first played this game, I immediately found myself pretty attached to Omori because he was just a dry, quiet little guy who hangs out with his friends and might have some sort of mental issue to him. Who could resist such allure? But damn, if it weren't for the real world segments and how it all culminates into the final battle between Sunny and Omori... I think he'd be in Mari's spot. A character too reliant on flavor text to showcase their character, not really leaving enough of an impact for me to immediately think about them when I hear about the game OMORI.

But Sunny... Sunny, my beautiful boy. This poor fucking kid. Sunny is such an incredibly human character and I always found myself feeling pity for the guy, he's been dealt with such a horrible hand in the short time he's been alive, and yet despite me never going anywhere near the Sunny that went through, and having a very different personality from him; I can attest, he's very relatable. Just remind yourself that this kid pretty much tortured and isolated him for four whole years all alone because he couldn't get over the guilt that accidentally killing Mari gave him.

Four years is the amount of time between the start of the pandemic and today. Imagine never leaving your house, having no friends to rely on or talk to, constantly living in a fantasy world where you can do no wrong to hide yourself and cope, and dealing with at a worst case scenario was daily nightmares of your most horrible memory. Sunny's immediate reactions to anything that causes him distress is to block it out, and so; Omori, being his bubble, will do whatever means it takes to protect Sunny regardless of how much better it'd actually be in the end for him to finally accept the reality of what happened four years ago.

I don't normally mess or enjoy silent protagonists much because they're inherently kind of dull and usually end up falling flat. But along with Kris from Deltarune, Sunny is wonderful. It's just a shame that everyone after him are people I ended up feeling more connected to.

#3 - Hero

I honestly can't believe this man managed to win me over so hard that he'd place in the top 3. I kept thinking to myself while I was ranking the main cast: 'I like this character more than him, right...?'. But almost every single time, I remember something this goofy charm of a man did and I just sigh and realize I didn't appreciate him enough until after my playthrough and looked back on how so many of the things I liked about this game involved him.

So, here we are. At third, is none other than the world's most handsome man himself - Hero. I'm still wondering what his real name is if Hero was apparently just a nickname. Henry? That's like the closest thing I can think of off the top of my head. But let's address the elephant in the room.

I'll get this out of the way already. I'm perfectly aware that in comparison to everyone else, Hero doesn't get as much screentime or focus, heck; in the real world, he only shows up at the end of the second day and his most memorable moment for me was Kel telling us about what became of Hero after Mari's death when you go to her at the cemetery during Three Days Left. Flavor text. The very thing I pointed out to be why everyone before Hero is ranked lower than him. So how come he's up here...?

More than anything else, it's personal attachment. Apologies again for making this about me (pretty much every character from here is going to involve a bit of my personal life), but I have no siblings at all. This was kind of my fault, since I was so attached to my parents' love and affection that I didn't want anyone else taking that away from me. At the same time, I had three older male cousins who were the closest things to a big brother that I ever had in my childhood. They weren't exactly the nicest to me... but I always figured that was admittedly because of how weird I was as a kid anyways, so I don't hold that against them. I just wish I could've connected with them more.

Hero not only feels a lot more 'real' as a person to me in comparison to characters like Basil and Mari, not only cause I know people who handled the loss of a family member like he did and managed to hold himself enough and not go to the deep end. They're some of the most admirable people I know, and I look up to them a lot. Hero constantly wonders what he did wrong that Mari felt the need to commit suicide, but in the end; it's because he didn't do anything wrong. It's why I've always thought Hero's perspective after the good ending is the most interesting one and the one I always look forward to when I see how the writer executes it.

Not only does Hero get significantly more screentime than the characters before him in the form of the dream world, and feel much more alive than all the other dream world versions of the main cast, but he's much more flexible and allows for more wholeness in what I want to feel from a character.

What I mean by that is that Hero's personality and character opens more opportunities (and capitalizes on it!) so he can make me laugh, he can make me feel for him, he can be someone I can relate and struggle with, he can be someone I want to root for, and he's someone I can attribute to things I hold dearly to in real life.

He might not be the most complex or tragic (and considering what he went through, it goes to show just how bad shit gets in this game) character out there in a cast full of really deep ones, nor does he really stand out in the cast to some people...

But to me, he's everything I want out of a character. The only things that stopped him from being higher is that I was more compelled and struck by the next two.

#2 - Aubrey

Honestly? I thought Sunny would be a lot higher; in the spots that this one and the one after her would be, but I took the time to think about it and after some careful thought, I realized - yeah, I think these two are just more gripping to me and characters that I genuinely felt astonished by.

The dream world versions of the characters are husks. They're the idealistic versions of Sunny's friends and are characters that are only truly completed and finished because their real persona is so... amazing. And Aubrey...?

Out of any other character in the game, I think Aubrey benefits from the arc her real world has more than anyone else in this game. Because good god, this girl... I would've thought I'd feel more bad about the other characters, but I found myself constantly worrying about Aubrey because the circumstances that surrounded her was nothing short of poignant.

Could you imagine being in her position? You lose someone who's basically your older sister in a friend group that's more family than your own blood; because they're all deadbeats and your home life is unpleasant, to put it lightly. All of them start to drift off, for one reason and another, and it feels like nobody is even there to comfort you or give you a shoulder to lean on. But wait, maybe you do! Your childhood friend Basil, who's kind of nervous and seems pretty broken, but at least he's still there, right...?

And yet, from Aubrey's perspective, Basil ruined what was essentially the only physical memories they had left of their Mari. Someone she loved so dearly, desecrated like that... that broke her. For Aubrey, it felt like there was no one there that could understand her. And then, after four long years - suddenly, one of your friends finally decides to show his face, and this obnoxious, overly positive and reality-denying guy tries to act like you didn't just lose four years of your life wondering what went wrong and why she lost everything so quickly.

Wouldn't it feel insulting?

I don't normally like 'bully' characters (mainly due to my own childhood experiences with them), because they usually hit too close to home to me. I hate that I even feel like categorizing Aubrey as that considering we know the circumstances around her life. To make matters worse, she was probably the one I least cared about until her arc in the real world started and she completely blew me away.

Aubrey, whom I love the real design of and think she looks great in the real world - Aubrey's arc and character is something you learn to appreciate. It's something that you can only really 'get' when you remember the lesson OMORI tries to teach you in the first place.

And well, if you've played the game, then I need not explain any further. Let's move on to the guy in first.

#1 - Kel

A dork, kind of a dunce, but a champion. He is the catalyst for the true ending and is the reason the path to it even opens up in the first place. I'll concede this; characters that are complex like Aubrey, Sunny, and Basil are normally the characters you'd see as my favorites because I tend to value them more or just like their presence more.

But in any game; I really, really don't think I've ever seen a character archetype in the way that Kel's in who manages to not only be full of that childish endearing aura to him, yet flawed and so very, very real and human; who you can understand why other characters would lash out and get irritated at him, but also support him knowing fully well that his intentions are always for the best...

Kel is amazing. From the first interaction with him in the dream world, I was immediately hooked because of his stupid and goofy little humor that brings me to reminiscences of a simpler, more fun and youthful time in my life. I was worried that I might grow tired of him since; let's face it, dream world Kel does have shades of being just a tad one-dimensional. I was genuinely considering putting Aubrey as my favorite character.

And then I remembered the graveyard scene with Kel talking about his and Hero's story.

No scene in the game solidified my love for a character and made me want to do everything for them more than that did with Kel. Hands down, that is my favorite scene in the entire game and not a lot of moments come close.

Kel's kind of bad at reading the room, I think he's self-aware enough to know that he's stubborn and there are times where he's stepping into territory that should just be left alone.

Despite that though, it's because of his persistence that he succeeds. Kel might just seem like a positive and happy go lucky goofball (he is, tbf), but he had to deal with his own shit too. In response to Mari's death, Kel put on a smile and did what he believed Mari would've wanted him to do - he healed himself and got back up by making new friends, taking the time to worry about others, and try to get the friend group back together.

No matter how many tries it took. I seriously, seriously wonder just how much time Kel spent knocking on doors, asking his old friends if they wanted to hang out, yet always falling on deaf ears. I think the reason he's able to smile in spite of it all is that he just hasn't had the chance to mourn on his own. There are moments where the smile breaks for a bit; times like when Hero is the one that immediately gets rushed to by his parents while he's just left there when the two of them fought, or after Hero saves Basil after Aubrey pushed him into the lake, and he starts wanting nothing more to do with Aubrey, thinking that she's really changed until Hero manages to convince him otherwise.

Or worst of all, in the neutral ending... where Basil lets himself go and Kel cries, finally breaking down and unable to hold back the tears this time. He asks Sunny; 'why does this keep happening to us?' in the most heartbreaking sprite in the game. He's human and has a limit, just like everyone else. And it's so cathartic when in the good ending, Kel's efforts pays off in the form of Sunny finally overcoming his demons.

Everything I said about Hero being flexible and whole? Kel is that, but cranked to 11. I absolutely adore this boy and I want him to be happy, because he deserves the world and more.

Kel is my favorite character in all of OMORI. And with that, here's the formal image of the final rankings of all these characters.

Whoo, that must've been a doozy. Sorry that got so long, and if any of my thoughts didn't make sense or are incoherent - I'm a lot better following up on things and adding to it rather than trying to formulate my own thoughts, because trying to think of stuff that people don't already say is pretty hard, eheh.

Anyways, that's my ranking of the main 6 characters from OMORI. Not ashamed to say how much I love all of them and this game, and I'm looking forward to the next time I find the energy to continue this series and divert the discussion from its core set of characters. Hope you enjoyed reading this!

Quick credit for the fanmade pic of real Mari: Some Mari portrait edits : OMORI (reddit.com)

#omori #omori sunny #omori basil #omori aubrey #omori kel #omori hero #omori mari #tier list

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redditreceipts · 4 months

Note

Hello, I'm an ftm person wondering if I am allowed here. I guess I'm technically considered truscum. I believe that trans women will always benefit from being born male. I've been getting fed up lately seeing trans women basically mansplain misogyny and act like they have it 10x worse than anyone born female. Like, they can literally detransition (if they even bothered trying looking like women) and go back to having 100% male privilege. I also hate that they're claiming that trans men have male privilege, we're fucking female.

hey :) yes, of course you're allowed on here!

the way I see it is that women (or people with female bodies) are oppressed under patriarchy because of their female bodies. some have gender dysphoria and for some of the people with gender dysphoria it is the best decision to transition. I wouldn't say that it literally changes their sex category, but there are interesting points to be made about the societal position of transsexual people who pass as the opposite sex. (as in for example: when is it most useful to consider a passing trans person as a member of the opposite sex for convenience reasons? what difficulties do passing trans women share with women? etc.)

also, being a feminist is not a religion. you don't have to agree with everything if you agree with one thing. and if you see something that you feel like I got wrong, please tell me! I actually think that trans men can be some of our best allies because they know the male entitlement these people show better than anyone else.

but the thing is that this is more of a catharsis blog to vent about one issue and make fun of homophobes and misogynists. so I'm probably going to misgender people and make fun of their opinions, so if that is upsetting to you, I would recommend you don't check out my blog if you're in a bad mood. :)

so yes, you are more than welcome here, and if you feel like I got something wrong, I'm happy to hear your opinion!

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rolkstone · 4 months

Text

"Would you tell your parents/coworkers/friends/etc you read x?!" antis scream as if it's a gotcha.

and yet that tells me even more about the anti state of mind. Fuck your privacy, fuck your boundaries. I don't tell people outside of my discord server or my blog what I'm into because it's not fucking relevant, and more importantly than that: they didn't fucking ask.

if someone asks me what I write about or jerk off to, that's one thing (though very strange for the latter). No, I'm not going to disrespect someone by volunteering the weird ass kinks/fetishes that I'm into that hurt NO ONE in the physical reality.

It's very fucking telling to me that antis see nothing wrong with bothering another person with your kinks or interests unprompted. Kind of like how they send death/rape threats to people they think are "degenerates" unprompted

At this point, I can't even tell what antis understand or know, because of the way they choose to act, but I can say this: know your fucking audience. Read the fucking room. That's one thing antis have proven themselves incapable of, and that is any form of subtlety or keeping your mouth shut sometimes

If some relative or boss or w/e found out what kind of porn I look up (as that's the "worst" thing I can imagine someone finding from my internet history) and they judged me for it, then that's their sad little problem. I'm not hurting anyone IRL, nor calling for anyone to be hurt. Therefore I stand by my internet history. However, I'm also a decent person and I wouldn't bombard uninterested parties about something as incredibly niche and personal and specific as my kinks

at this point, antis are just desperately digging around for anything they can use as a gotcha, aren't they? Because feeling superior is always better than actually treating people with kindness and understanding, right?

#anti anti #proship #anti logic #anti rhetoric #proshipper

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jasntodds · 1 year

Text

Caving In [3]

Pairing: Gar Logan x Fem!Powered!Reader, Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader

Words: 7,023

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, hurt/comfort, a nightmare, flirting, fluff, jason and reader trauma-bonding, talks of abuse (it’s not super detailed), mentions of food being withheld, gar feels like his trauma isn’t “enough” (unrelated to the trauma-bonding), mentions of death, mentions of drug addiction, mentions of bruises

Summary: ❝Tell me Atlas: What is heavier, The world or its people’s hearts?❞ You never expected your life to end up this way, turned upside down by an infamous Gotham villain. It’s been a living hell, every single day, until Dick Grayson brings you to Titans tower where you meet Gar Logan and Jason Todd.

A/N: So, this is the chapter where I decided to change who the fic was about because I mean hi lol so this chapter is Jason heavy 😂 I am easily motivated to post more often when I get feedback 😂 The first few chapters take place between season 2 episode 1 and season 2 episode 2. You can add yourself the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!!

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

The movie came to a close twenty minutes ago, Rachel already off to her room to get some sleep but Gar and Jason are still in the living room with you asleep. Gar doesn’t want to move you, he’s never been a big fan of waking people up when they’re asleep, especially when it’s obvious they haven’t slept very much. On top of that though, he’s not sure if waking you up would scare you and then you’d burn him or something. So, he figures it might be best to just let you sleep. Jason volunteered to hang out with him for a little bit anyway.

Jason looks over and his eyes just land on you. You look peaceful and kind of nice when you’re not being a snarky bitch to him. Though, he does kind of give as good as he gets not that he’d ever admit that of course. And maybe he likes that you actually have a bit of fire in your words when you talk to him. Gar and Rachel normally brush off his mean and sarcastic comments and Dick can never be bothered. You though, you play along and maybe he thinks it’s a little fun.

“Why are you staring at her, dude? It’s weird.” Gar looks away from his phone to look at Jason.

Jason shakes his head, grabbing his own phone to scroll through Twitter. “I wasn’t staring.” He mutters, his cheeks turning a bright red.

“Yeah, you were.” Gar insists. “Don’t make it weird, she’s nice and it’s cool to have someone new around.”

“I’m not making it fucking weird, man.” Jason sighs before he looks back over, glancing between Gar and you. “You gonna go for it though?” Jason raises his brows with the question, choosing to deflect.

Gar’s eyes narrow in disbelief. “I just said don’t make it weird.” Gar’s voice goes up an octave with his words. “She’s been here a day.”

Jason chuckles more to himself than at Gar. “I’m just trying to figure out the rules. You’re my friend and I don’t wanna overstep, man.” He has this grin that absolutely says he will overstep if not told otherwise.

Gar’s forehead wrinkles with Jason’s words and if it were anyone else, maybe he’d be surprised by how fast he wants this move but it’s Jason. The same guy who uses 420 and 69 (or both together) as passcodes so Gar can’t actually be too surprised. And Gar also knows that if he doesn’t answer Jason, Jason is going to do what he wants. He’s an asshole, sure, but he’s not a half-bad friend, actually.

“I don’t know.” Gar shakes his head, almost rolling his eyes. “I haven’t thought about it.”

Jason hums. “So, I can go for it then? If I want?” Jason asks and then quickly follows up with more. “Not that I do, I’m just asking.”

“Right.” Gar deadpans and you aren’t an article of clothing they’re swapping because it’s nice or something.

You’re a living breathing human being who has the right to make your own decisions. Of course, Gar knows that’s not what Jason is getting at during this or anything. He’s asking if he can flirt or try to actually get with you if you’re interested but it doesn’t make Gar feel any better. You’ve been here a day and maybe Gar just wants you to settle in before Jason jumps down your throat about it. And, to be completely fair, Gar does think you’re very pretty but he actually wants to take the time to get know you before he decides if he’d even be interested. He’s just here having fun learning to be a Titan.

“Maybe we just let her come to us if she’s interested.” Gar proposes, a partial way to get Jason to drop it. “After, she actually gets settled.”

“Hey,” Jason defends himself, but his voice is still quieter than it normally is. “It’s just a question, she seemed to be comfortable around you is all.” Jason glances to you once more before going back to his phone. “Obviously.”

“Can we drop this? She is right here.” Gar slightly shifts in his seat, not enough to wake up you.

“She’s asleep.” Jason scoffs before looking back at Gar who just looks annoyed. “Alright, damn chill out. I’ll leave her alone for a while.”

Gar nods, not having anything else to add on the topic and Jason drops it. The boys go back to their phones and have some conversation here and there about Twitter threads and TikToks they find. Nothing substantial really comes from any of it but both of them enjoy the time. Gar actually likes hanging out with Jason like this, he hasn’t had a best friend in a long time and this feels normal to him. Turning into a tiger usually makes him feel a little freakish, especially after spending so much time at Doom Manor where they were pretty much described as freaks. It was hurtful, he just wants to be normal and having movie nights with Jason and Rachel feels normal.

It doesn’t matter how much trauma any of them have when there’s a movie on and they’re just hanging out. It’s just them and when it’s him and Jason, that’s all there is. Normalcy. Even with you, a new girl, sleeping on him. In a way, it even feels a little comforting with you laying your head on him because he’s not a scary tiger. He’s just a boy.

After another half hour, Jason leaves Gar to head to the training room. Gar tried to convince him to go to bed but Jason doesn’t listen to anyone so now it’s just Gar and you. He’s getting tired himself and he’s heavily debating on waking you up so he can go in his own bed. But, the debate doesn’t last long because suddenly, you shoot off of his shoulder, heaving for air. You sit forward, eyes wide as Gar slightly jerks away from you as a reflex.

“Are…are you okay?” He asks, leaning back over and forward to get a look at your face.

You suck in a breath, your chest heaving with every breath and your heart pounding. You barely even comprehend you’re still in the living room when Gar asks you the question. All you can do is nod and try to breathe. This is really going to be your life now? Tortured in reality by a psychopath and now tortured in a dream state by the same fucking psychopath? How the fuck is that fair? You finally escaped only to be haunted by your dreams in a place you actually kind of, sort of, feel safe in.

“Nightmare?” Gar asks, not moving from his position.

You turn your head to the right to look over your shoulder back at Gar. “Y-yeah.” You nod softly before looking forward, shaking your head. “Sorry.”

Gar’s brows furrow. “For what?”

“Uh…” No one’s asked you what you’re sorry for before. You’re always supposed to be sorry for either getting angry or upset or having a smart-ass comment. There’s always something you’re supposed to apologize for. “Falling asleep, falling asleep on you….” You pause. “Nightmare.”

“You,” Gar leans forward some more, a little closer to you to try and offer you comfort in the only way he knows how. “You don’t have to be sorry for any of that. It’s okay.”

You glance over at him and the way he looks at you make you feel like porcelain. Fragile and weak. It’s not a feeling you like very much. But his eyes are warm and kind, so kind that they make you want to tell him your whole life story without ever coming up for a breath of fresh air. And it makes you feel warm.

“Do you wanna talk about it? Sometimes it helps.” Gar offers with a welcoming but small smile.

You look over to him again, your eyes dodging his this time. You can feel the flame in your belly flickering, it wants to go out so bad. It’s been wanting to go out the last few months, the last few months you were held. At the beginning, it was bonfire in your stomach. The second even a drop of gasoline were to land, it would all blow. But the gasoline never dripped or spilled. It sat in the corner and taunted you and the flame died down. And you’re so tired of it.

You want the fight back and maybe talking about it would help you feel better but you don’t want to feel better. You want to be pissed and angry and furious and you want the fucking fire back so you can hunt the bastard down yourself. But then you look at Gar again and he’s soft. It’s like you’re this tea light and he’s a glass lamp over you. Not burning out the flame but keeping it going just enough to function.

“Um…” You pause, leaning back against the couch. “It’s just….uh…i-it’s like I’m back there again.” You admit. “A-and he-he’s right there.” You stutter while Gar watches. “J-just f-fucking taunting me, k-knowing I-I can’t do anything. Fuck.” You swallow hard, not even realizing you were practically holding your breath.

Gar turns in his spot so he can better face you, never moving away from you. “What happened?” Gar asks calmly. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Gar adds on, never wanting you to feel pressured about it.

You hang your head, then shake it. He’s going to give you the look. The pitiful look you got when your mom died. It’s the same look everyone always gives, you’re guilty of giving the look, too but it makes you shift and it make you feel uneasy. You get it, feeling bad for people who experience trauma. It’s natural but you don’t find it comforting and maybe you would find it easier if he had something snarky to say. Make it easier with humor, it’s what you do anyway.

“W-what’s the worst thing you’ve heard someone go through?” You ask, pulling the sleeves of your hoodie over your hands.

Gar sighs, thinking about it but he didn’t think very long before he starts talking, thinking maybe if you know what he’s seen and heard, it’ll make you trust him enough to talk to him. “Rachel, probably.” He answers honestly. “Her mom, who wasn’t her real mom, was shot in front of her. Then, she was locked away,” Gar says. “Only for a few hours but locked away for her powers.” He adds in. “Then,” He pauses and your brows go up in surprise. “We found her real mom who convinced her to bring in her demon dad to save my life. He possessed all of our friends and then got them to almost beat me to death in front of her.” Gar lists, reliving all of it in quick images. “Trigon,” You look at him quizzically. “Demon dad.” Gar clarifies. “Killed her real mom and then Rachel killed him.”

You sit there for a second and you really thought you had it bad. Of course, what you went through was still terrible but you do not want to play trauma Olympics with Rachel that’s for damn sure. But, Rachel seems okay, weirdly enough. You aren’t sure how long ago all of that was but Rachel does seem okay and even happy which gives you the one thing you haven’t had in months. Hope.

“Well…okay.” You nod slowly, taking in the information.

“Oh!” Gar says, remembering to add more. “We were also being chased by people who were trying to kill her because of her powers.” Gar lets out a breath, his nonchalant add-in almost makes you laugh. What the fuck?

You blink a few times. “I….I don’t even know what to say to all of that.”

“Yeah,” Gar chuckles softly. “It was pretty crazy.”

“No fucking shit.” You laugh softly. “That’s fucked up.”

Gar nods. “Yeah, but she’s okay now.” Gar assures you.

“She seems to like it. This place help?” Your eyes glance to your hands and then back to Gar.

Gar nods once more. “Yeah,” He shrugs a shoulder. “I think it does.”

It’s helped him a little bit. But, he doesn’t think his trauma is worth talking about. It’s not as bad as Rachel’s or yours. It was a disease, sure his was different, but it was a disease and people get diseases all the time. Some people live and some people die because that’s how it works. He turns into a green tiger but is that really trauma? In the grand scheme of the conversation? Gar doesn't really think so. So, he keeps the idea of the Tower and the people helping him cope to himself.

“I-it was just…hell.” You suck in a breath, deciding to tell him a little bit. “I was there for a while and this,” You gesture over your face. “Was pretty normal.” You chew the inside of your cheek. “I-I, uh, I-I thought he was gonna…kill me for a while.” You swallow. “I think he wanted to.”

“I’m sorry.” Gar’s brows knit together with sympathy and there’s the look.

You can’t handle the look, not from him. Clearly, he’s seen and heard a lot but now maybe you don’t want to burden him with your shit. He’s been through his own and clearly knows Rachel’s, you can only assume he knows some of Jason’s shit, whatever it is. To you, Gar seems like the person everyone goes to with their problems and you don’t want to stick that burden on him. Not with eyes as caring and gentle as his. It breaks your heart to even be sitting here telling him anything. So, you quit.

“Um…” You shake your head “I’m sorry, I don’t wanna talk about it.” You shut down and Gar just nods.

“It’s okay.” Gar assures you as you get up from the couch.

“I’m…I’m gonna walk.” You fake a smile at him. “Clear my head. Thanks for letting me sleep, Gar.”

“If you need to talk, you can talk to me.” Gar stands up with you, worried he overstepped. “I didn’t mean to--”

“No.” You cut him off quickly. “You didn’t…it’s not like that. I….just. It’s so fucking fresh and you….” You suck your teeth, brows furrowing together as if you’re in pain. “You make me feel normal and I don’t wanna ruin that.” You divert your eyes to the floor. “I’m sorry…thank you.” You look back up at him before turning on your heels and head into the left hallway, disappearing into the shadows.

Gar watches you disappear, kicking himself. He thinks he made it worse. He’s just trying to be there for you but he’s slowly figuring out that that’s not something you want. Not in the talking about-it way, anyway. It’s like you just want to be distracted from it all which Gar can’t blame you for. He can only really imagine what happened from his and Jason’s little bit of research and what information you did give him. His heart aches for you but he’ll never push you to tell him anything. Instead, he goes to his room but he leaves the door cracked just in case you change your mind.

You find yourself wandering the halls until you reach the training room. There you find Jason back at the punching bag. You pull out the phone Dick gave you earlier today and it’s three in the morning. Suddenly, you feel even worse about falling asleep on Gar given how late it is. But, you choose not to focus on the guilt in your stomach and instead on Jason. You stand in the doorway, confused why he would train at this hour. Is he insane?

“Do you ever stop training?” You ask, arms crossed as you’re leaning against one of the sliding doors.

Jason jumps, spinning around quickly. “Fuck, how long have you been standing there?” Jason almost yells at you.

You snicker with a shrug. “Few seconds.”

“What do you want?” He asks and he’s as snarky as ever which makes you happy. It’s like he treats you normally. Not that the others don’t but you can tell it’s like they’re tip-toeing but Jason doesn’t.

You walk in just a few feet, looking around before looking back at Jason. “Was just walking around.”

“That’s fucking weird.”

Jason didn’t expect to see you for the rest of the night. He kind of figured if you woke up, you’d just go to your room, not walk around. Or maybe, you’d be with Gar but you’re here in the training room with him. And maybe despite the snarkiness, he wants you to stay. Maybe the comments will make you want to stay, for entertainment. You seem to like the challenge.

“You’re the one punching a bag at three in the fucking morning. You’re being weird, dude.” You snark with the raise of your brows and Jason deadpans before returning to the bag.

You watch him a little longer and this is your opportunity to ask him to help you. No one else is here and you can only assume Gar went to bed so it’s just you two. He’s clearly dedicated so maybe he’ll want to help anyway. If not, you figure you’ll just hold the little bet over his head.

You close the distance, walking over toward the punching bag. “You’re so….”

“Charming?” Jason glances at you as he punches the bag. “Amazing?” He punches again. “Hot?” He flashes a cocky grin and you sigh.

“I was gonna say snippy, actually.”

“You’re fucking annoying you know that?” Jason snarks.

“Mmm.” You click your tongue a grin pulling at your lips as you point a finger at him. “There it is.”

“Seriously, what do you want?” Jason stops, facing you with annoyance.

“Train me, Dick said I’m not ready.” You hold your head up, crossing your arms across your chest.

Jason pauses, the question catching him off guard. You don’t actually look like you’re in any condition to train, not that Jason really ever agrees with Dick. Bruce doesn’t think he should be Robin but Jason knows he’s ready to get back to it so in a way, Jason understands why you’re asking. Feeling ready, but the adults want to think they know what’s best. It’s shitty. But Jason likes a good fight.

“What happened to you?” The snarkiness leaves his voice as he nods his head up at you and you’re taken aback. Jason, not asking a snarky question? Now, that’s weird.

“Why do you wanna know?” Your voice is level, eyes slight narrowed.

Jason pauses. He’s actually just curious. He knows his motive for wanting to train harder and better and faster than everyone else but what’s yours? Unless yours is going after whoever did whatever it was to you. But now you have powers so you could just take them out with those. You don’t need the combat, really. Jason just wants to know and maybe he has a little more stake in it. He does care about it, even though he acts like he doesn’t. He’s not completely heartless. Plus, maybe it’ll give him bonus points.

“Curious.” Jason shrugs, eyes glancing from your socks to your face.

“You just wanna see all the trauma?” You raise and Jason shrugs, his brows raising quickly as if to be saying ‘why not’ and his nonchalant attitude with the mix of snark gives you enough reason to challenge him a little but take the risk in having to spill. You take a few steps towards him. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” You close the small distance between you standing just an inch away from him. Jason’s breath hitches in his throat for just a second as he looks to you. The look in your eyes sends a shiver down his spine and he’s ready to play the game.

“Asked you first.” Jason doesn’t move from his stance, instead he holds still, looking at you with his eyes locked on yours and he sees a grin coming to your face.

“Alright,” You take one step back. “But don’t make it all emotional or some shit.” You plop down on the floor in front of him, sitting with your legs crossed, Jason taking a breath finally.

He said he wouldn’t. He told Gar he’d leave you alone for a little while but what is he supposed to do when you initiate it? Jason is not gonna back down from that. And, he thinks it’s fun. You play the game and lean into the challenge instead of backing away. It’s only when Jason goes to play, too that you switch it up like a game of cat and mouse. It’s thrilling a little.

Jason chuckles but follows your lead. “You always sit on the floor?”

“You always in here?” You quip.

“Shut up.” Jason shakes his head but a smile still tugs at his lips. “So, spill your guts.”

“It’s not getting that deep, bud.” You scoff but match the smile.

This is what you were thinking when talking to Gar. Gar makes it feel vulnerable, talking about it. That’s not how you want to feel about it. You want to feel strong and fiery. It’s not Gar’s fault, you can tell it’s because he just really, truly cares and feels bad about whatever it is. But, Jason, it’s like he cares but only out of curiosity not because he’s trying to save you or help you.

“Mom was killed by the Joker,” You start, gauging Jason’s face as you talk. “Dad’s a meth addict, a great parental figure obviously.” You say sarcastically. “Went into foster care, Jerry.” You grimace with his name and you try to dodge the feeling of agony and fear when you say his name. “Was my foster dad if you can even call him that.” You scoff. “He wanted to make superhumans. He used me as a test subject, I think for himself to see if anything would work. I had so many things injected I lost count over the year. He kept me chained in a basement and because none of that was quite bad enough, the fucker decided to beat me, too when I didn’t show signs of powers. He’d withhold food, all that shit. I survived mostly off of chicken noodle soup. He beat me so bad, I guess he thought I was dead and dumped in an alley and now I’m here.” You keep your voice nonchalant and steady, listing off your past like some recap of a sitcom.

Jason keeps his eyes on you and he doesn’t know what to say. It’s rare to get him speechless but here he is, without a single word in his head. How is he even supposed to respond to that? It just sounds terrible and horrifying.

“How long did he keep you like that?” He settles on the question, knowing talking about the events in Gotham is a sore spot for him.

“A year, I think. Lost track a bit.” You answer with a shrug, silently begging him to have something snarky or sarcastic to say because now it’s all too real and you wish you could turn back the clock and not say anything.

“That’s fucked up. He’d just experiment on you and fucked you up cause he could?” Jason asks as if not really believe what he’s hearing. People are terrible.

“Mhm.” You hum.

“Fuck that guy, he’s a piece of fucking shit, alright?" There’s a fury in his voice this time and it makes you smile just a little bit. He’s not sorry, he just thinks Jerry is a shitty person.

“No shit.” You huff.

“It worked though, he gave you powers. Why the fuck wouldn’t you have used them?” Jason’s expression changes to confusion. “I’m not blaming you.” Jason defends his words, feeling like it might have come off a bit like victim blaming. “I’m just curious.”

“I was afraid he’d kill me knowing that it worked. I…uh, I learned how to stay calm when he’d come at me so I pissed him off really bad a few days ago. The calmer I was, the more angry he’d get.”

“You got him to do that to you on purpose?” Jason practically yells.

He’s not sure what he expected, really. He kind of just thought it got too bad one day. It lead you to that alley. He didn’t think you actually got someone to do that to you.

You nod, a feeling of shame taking over. “I couldn’t escape any other way. I knew if I could piss him off really really bad, he’d come at me like never before. I could pretend like he killed me or put me into a coma, caused a massive brain bleed, ya know? Something, he would dump me somewhere. It was that or he was gonna kill anyway.” You pause. “Backfired a little, he did come back and I guess thought throwing a few more punches would wake me up.”

“You just played dead the whole time?” There’s a pain in Jason’s voice and he thought this could turn into something of fun, quick-witted jokey conversation but he just feels like you kicked off a cliff.

“Oh, no, I was actually knocked unconscious most of the time while all of it was going on.” You nod casually.

“Fuck.” Jason lets out a breath before continuing. “That’s kind of badass though.” Jason states giving you a grin, you shaking your head and jerking backward in confusion. “You just took him beating the fuck outta you. That’s fucking crazy.”

You laugh softly. “Yeah, dude’s got a hell of an arm and a kick, a-fucking-parently.” Jason’s brows raise as if to be asking for context. “Found more bruises when I showed today, got a nice boot print on my back.” A scoff leaves the back of your throat.

“Fuck that guy, alright?” Jason says, growing angry at the conversation. Who does that to someone for no reason? He kicks ass every night in Gotham as Robin but those people deserve it. What did you ever do to this guy who was supposed to protect you and keep you safe? It’s not right. “He’s a piece of shit and you didn’t deserve that shit. I'll hunt the monster down for you if I have to.”

You furrow your brows. “That’s a kind offer.”

“I’m fucking Robin!” Jason tosses his hands out, gesturing into his chest and outward again. “It’s my job to hunt those dickweeds down!”

You let out a genuine laugh. He is pretty funny actually and he’s not the Robin that let the Joker kill your mom. You actually think Jason would kill the bad guys if he were allowed to. “Mhm.” You hum. “Which is why you’re the best Robin.”

“You think so?” Jason asks, the joy in his voice makes you giggle. “I know I am but Dick and Bruce...” He pauses for a second. “They don’t think so.”

“Well, Dick and Bruce don’t know shit.” You hold your head up high, and you truly think Jason is the better Robin. You’ve seen the YouTube videos.

“Thanks.” Jason offers a sincere smile. “That why you wanna train? Hunt him down yourself kind of deal?”

“Yeah, if I ever see the piece of shit I don’t wanna give him the satisfaction of knowing it worked. I wanna beat the fuck with my bare fucking hands like he did to me.” There it is, the fire you’ve been looking for. You want him to suffer at your own hands. No one else, just you and him and you want to watch everything he worked for crash around him. You want him to be bloody and bruised and beaten like you have been for a year.

“Good, he fucking deserves it. Dick will probably hunt him down if you tell him.” Jason informs you. “He used to be a detective and he worked a lot of cases with shitty parents. I think he went out as Robin and kicked their asses.”

You smile. “Good, people who beat kids deserve what’s coming.” You laugh softly, stretching your legs out beside Jason’s and leaning back on your hands. “Your turn.”

Jason nods, pulling the leg furthest from you up so his foot is on the floor and his knee is bent while he leans back on his hands. “Dad was killed by Two-Face, mom’s a smack addict, uncle drank himself to death.” Jason rambles off as if it were nothing and your eyes squint for just a second. You’re nonchalant because it’s easier that way. Is it easier for him to be like this, too? “Gotham, right?” Jason scoffs, looks down and away from you.

“Special kind of fucked up there.” You say, not looking away from him. “I’m really sorry.” You say, your heart aching for him, something you didn’t really expect given the banter between you. “How’d you get here then?” You ask, instead of asking for details about those he lost knowing you don’t like to talk about it and assuming he probably doesn’t either.

“Caught stealing the hubcaps off the Batmobile.” Jason chuckles, his cocky grin back on his face as he looks to you, clearly proud of himself. He expects you to be impressed with his courage to steal from Batman of all people. But that’s not what your face is telling him.

Your eyes narrow and then you look up before squeezing the bridge of your nose. “Hubcaps.” Your voice is exasperated, eyes closed before looking back at him. “Fuck.”

Jason laughs, knowing what the expression is now. “What? You robbing cars?” He shakes his head. “Nah, you gotta get the hubcaps, more likely to get money from that. Less likely to get caught, too.”

“Fuck you. You got caught, too!” You glare at him.

“Because it was the fucking Batmobile.” Jason tilts his head back with a laugh. “He didn’t wanna press charges, instead, he took me in.”

“Oh, to have been so lucky.” You snark with the roll of your eyes.

“Yeah…” Jason sucks in a breath. “Sorry.”

“Nah,” You scoff with a smile. “I wish I would have been smart enough to rob the Batmobile!”

“Everyone says it was dumb.” Jason scoffs.

Bruce said it was dumb, the cop said it was dumb, Dick, Gar, Alfred, everyone but every single one of them completely neglect the need to survive. Jason's been in and out of the system his entire life. He got lucky that he didn't end up like you in all of the time he was in the system. It was lucky. He lived on the streets, no job, no GED, no diploma, he had nothing. Stealing the hubcaps off cars was how he got money for food. The Batmobile? He knew he'd get more money for it. No one wants to talk about why he did it, just that it was "dumb".

“Well, you got to move in with Batman and even if you succeeded, you would have gotten money. That’s a win-win.” You give him a smile and a laugh because you really wish you would have done it. You get it, you’re the one who gets it.

“What I said!” Jason defends.

“So, that it? Parents and guardians suck?” You pause. “So…why're you here then? I think you're a great Robin, seems a bit weird you're here." You question because you want to know what he did. If stealing hubcaps wasn't Bruce's red flag, what was it?

Jason’s face grows something sad and you’re watching, not sure what he would be sad about. He seems so happy about being Robin. What is there to be sad about? Dick said Bruce wasn’t the best, but was it that bad? Is the guy who dresses up as Batman every night actually a horrible person? Is it all just a show?

“He’s making me take a break.” Jason looks to the ground, his face settling somewhere between annoyed and sad.

You nod. “Ah, what’d ya do?”

“Well,” Jason sighs, running a hand through his hair. “There was the joyrides in the Batmobile and then riding a motorcycle in the manor.”

“I-you…I don’t know what to unpack first. Batmobile or the motorcycle. Why? For both, I guess?” You question.

Why would he risk that? Getting thrown back to the streets or worse? You run the questions through your head but you don't need to ask him because you know. It's what he does. It's what you do. You’re asking Jason to go behind Dick's back, knowing that Dick doesn't have to let you stay. It's a risk and sometimes the risk is worth it. Maybe it's genetic, to be some sort of fuck up. Or, in this case, maybe it's just environmental.

Jason shrugs. “Seemed fun, I guess.”

“You know what I think.” You point a finger at him and Jason deadpans but gestures a hand out for you to proceed. “I think he doesn’t give you enough attention.”

“You a fucking shrink now?”

“Fuck no.” You chortle. “Just an observation. Seems like you like a lot of attention.”

"And why the fuck do you think that?"

"You're a smart-ass." You chuckle as if it should have been obvious. "The risks you take, the fact everyone has something to say about you tells me you intentionally start the shit so they do talk about you. Talking about you in any context is better than being forgotten." You explain and Jason just watches you growing annoyed. He thinks he's so hard to figure out but you have him pegged in five minutes.

"Fuck you." Jason huffs. He does not like being analyzed.

"No one wants to be forgotten." Your voice is quiet and the annoyance suddenly leaves Jason with your tone. You notice the way he looks at you, not with sympathy or pity but with a genuine understanding and you deflect. "And if you keep saying fuck you, I might take you up on it." You wiggle your brows at him and Jason's jaw opens slightly, feeling as if he's just gotten whiplash.

He can play this game. He won't let you get one over on him. This is Jason's game to play and win.

"Fuck. You." Jason taunts you, leaning forward slightly.

You think it's funny. You’re just messing with him but the way he doesn't even bat an eye at it, it energizes your blood in every way. Talking and messing with Jason makes you feel so normal. He doesn't do that little dance thing that Gar does, where he's so worried about stepping on your feelings. Jason just blurts shit out and calls your bluff. It's fun.

"Tell me how you really feel." You challenge him.

Jason wants to go there because he doesn't think you'll commit to it. Maybe you'll pull away or laugh but he'll have won because he didn't back down first. It's like this silent game you're playing and Jason can't tell who the ringmaster is. He swears up and down it's him, but you take the challenge and maybe he's a little worried you'll win.

You make him feel....not useless right now. He has felt useless since being sent here. Dick didn't want him to stick around and help but he kept Rachel and Gar around. He couldn't stop Trigon, he never even stood a chance. But, with you, you don't know any of that shit. It's just you two with no expectations of anything. It's the two of you and your trauma bonding and this little game. He wants it to be a long game though, drag it out and see who wins then.

"I don't think you like attention." Jason states, your brows furrowing and you didn't expect him to be the one to back down.

“What makes you say that?”

“You’re awake when no one else is. You choose Gar to hang out with. I'm guessing you did a lot of the crime at night and not just because it was easier. It's Gotham, day crime is also pretty fucking easy. Guessing you haven't told anyone else what happened because you don't want them to look at you.” Jason explains in the same way you did but this time, with a bit more bite in his voice.

You shake your head, a smile tugging at your lips. Maybe you’re also a bit transparent around him. “Mmm who’s the wanna-be shrink now?”

“Fuck off.” Jason chuckles. “Have you told anyone else? About what happened to you?”

You shake your head. “No, uh…” You furrow your brows, shaking your head once more. “I almost told Gar but….he makes it….too…”

“Real?”

“Yeah and vulnerable. Dick’s too serious about it and I haven’t talked much to Rachel. You always have a smartass comment though. Makes it feel more like a joke. And....we have Gotham in common, ya know?”

Jason nods with understanding. He doesn’t really like talking about any of it either. None of it really. It’s why he always says it so nonchalantly. It’s easier to brush it all off than boil in the feelings of sadness and regret. It’ll eat him alive if he thinks too much about it.

“Yeah, you make it easier, too.”

“Was that something nice you just said?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Jason groans. He nods his head up at you quickly. “How bad are the bruises?” You raise one brow at him. “I’m not a complete fucking asshole, alright? I don’t actually want you to get hurt.”

He’s thinking of caving. He gets you and you get him. Jason doesn’t have confidence about where this will go by any means but he’s confident he can trust you. If it were Jason, he’d never fucking quit if he were told he couldn’t train. He’d be training recklessly if he had to. You, at least had the brains to come and ask him for help. You’re not dumb, you’re desperate and Jason gets it. But he doesn’t want to contribute to your injuries if they’re that bad.

You think for a few seconds. They’re not great. Most of them are a deeper shades which means they’re further away from healing but you have a few older ones that have turned lighter in color. You know those aren’t the ones him and Dick are concerned about. And you could lie to him, it’s not like he’s going to pin you down and check for himself. But that doesn’t really feel right. Especially with him being nice to you and honest.

“What’s your definition of bad?” You ask, just trying to see how well you need to answer his question.

“Do they hurt?” Jason asks, not sure how to answer it.

“Well, yeah they’re bruises.”

“You know what I mean.” Jason groans.

“Yeah, they hurt. Like walking kind of hurts and bending certain ways hurts.”

“And you wanna fucking train and make it worse?”

“Do you ever rest? If you get hurt being Robin, do you rest or do you train?”

“Fine.” Jason groans, knowing he’s lost the battle. “But you know you’re not gonna run into the guy this week, right? The tower is secure so you don’t have shit to worry about.”

Jason caves. Training helps him deal with the bullshit. It makes him feel like he has a purpose. Being Robin is the one thing he does really well and it makes him feel like he belongs somewhere, something he’s never felt before. All the bullshit that happened before, it doesn’t matter when he’s Robin and when he’s training. He wants to give that to you.

“I know but I wanna be prepared. I wasn’t prepared last time.” You answer honestly. You will never let anyone do that to you again.

“You’re fucking crazy, ya know?” Jason chuckles softly.

“So are you, bud.” You get up. “Well, good talk. Lots of trauma bonding, but I’m gonna try to go tot bed.” You opt to end the conversation just in case he changes his mind but you’re a little disappointed. You do enjoy talking to him. Just like this.

Jason pauses for a second, looking up at you. You’re a human person and you have similarities in your traumas. It’s a little refreshing in a fucked up kind of way. No one else really gets it because it’s different, having a parent actively abandon you is different than dying. In a way, Jason thinks it’s worse. His mom picked drugs over him. He wasn’t good enough to love, by his own mother, and the only one who’d actually get that here is you. But, he knows that you might also benefit from actually talking about it with someone who can offer some actual support about it. It did help when he talked to Gar about it once.

“You should talk to Gar.” Jason says from the floor as you were on your way out.

“About?” You turn to look at him.

“What happened to you.” Jason gets up from the floor.

“Why?” You think it’s a bit weird to bring that up and now. You both just said it’s weird making it feel vulnerable and real.

Jason shrugs. “Might help, dealing with it.” He sucks in a breath as if it’s hard for him to even say. He hates talking about it but Gar will just listen. He’s the one person Jason has actually had a heart-to-heart to about it.

“Afraid I might…break him.” You laugh softly. “Ya know? Like he’s already seen some bad shit and he is…. unfathomably kind. I don’t wanna ruin him.”

Jason huffs but there’s a smile peaking onto his face. “He looks at the ligature marks on your wrists whenever you’re not tugging on your sleeves. Whatever he’s imagining happened to you is always going to be worse than what actually happened.” Jason says, his voice a bit flat and you can see this is a struggle for him to say and you wonder why.

“Like in horror movies. Choosing not to show the violence because what we imagine will always be scarier.”

“Yeah, I’m just saying, he’s a good listener if you just wanna be pissed about it.” Jason chuckles. “He’ll let you bitch about it.”

You smile at him and shake your head. Everyone here wants to talk so much shit about him which hey, maybe he deserves usually. But, you see through his bullshit because you do the same shit. It’s not cold-hearted, it’s a coping mechanism. A way to protect yourselves from getting hurt again. You get him, you get it and it makes you happy because he gets you, too.

“You’re not so bad, Jason Todd.” There's a genuine sweetness to your eyes as you say it and Jason doesn't believe it.

“I am the best.” He opens his arms, palms up, the arrogant smile beaming.

You roll your eyes, feeling bubbles and butterflies in your stomach. “Yeah, sure, goodnight, Jason.” You emphasis his name as you turn to leave and it sends Jason’s heart spinning.

“Goodnight, Y/n.” His voice is actually kind as he watches you leave.

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