#i sure do wish i could remember how i tagged things years ago | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

holybibly · 4 months

Text

IT'S YOU |Woosan x reader| Part II

Part I If you haven't read it

Genre: smut, from friends to lovers!au, college!au

Word Count: 9.4k

Summary: Sometimes drunken decisions lead to the most unexpected results and the most shocking confessions. Or, after your boyfriend cheats on you, you propose a threesome to your best friends and it might just be what they have always wanted.

WARNING: only!18+ unprotected sex, Dom!San, Dom!Wooyoung, Sub!Reader, fingering, choking, degrading, pet names, spit kink, manhandling, threesomes, dirty talk, explicit sexual content, explicit language, squirting, pussy slapping, overstimulation and more.

Tag list: @staytiny816 @woosmaid @jiminssluttyminx @liknws @pearltinyy @haebaragisworld @bts-iris @bleachpolaroid @wisejudgedragonhairdo @ginger-coffee-addict @pricessthings @rockstarsanie @lilmackiee @minaizum1 @shotahime @vixensss @meljoongiee @ivsjake4evr @love-me-a-little @seonghwaddict @onmykneesforateez @meeitany

A/N: Okay, we're here. I couldn't be more excited. Really, they've got a lot going on and I hope you're all ready because it's gonna be intense, hot and messy. Seriously, I really appreciate everyone's feedback and consideration for this series. It's become one of the most popular things I've written, but it put some pressure on me, because I'm worrying about whether the second part would please you. Well, I think we'll see.

Enjoy the chapter, even though it's practically nothing but smut.

The third and final part! takes us back to where it all began, but not without an emotional roller coaster ride. By the way, I wanted to point out that T/N doesn't remember what she promised them a year ago. So don't be surprised by the plot changes in this issue. In the finale, we're sure to get a hot threesome.

I'm still learning how to write smut, so please be gentle with me.

Besides, I can't help but talk about the results of the poll. The majority vote was for Alpha/Beta/Omega!au, and honestly, it's one of the ideas I'm most excited about, and I was hoping it would be the winner. I look forward to your comments. In general, feel free to write me about anything.

dividers by @cafekitsune

Much love, everyone.

Now. The morning after graduation.

It's a late, lazy morning when you wake from a deep and well-earned sleep. You blinked slowly, trying to adjust to the bright golden light flooding the room, which refracted through your bedroom's stained glass. It was beautiful and annoying at the same time, just as Hongjoong himself, who had inspired you to do this.

You should have shaded the windows last night before you went to sleep, but that was the last thing you thought of as lying in bed between the restless, wet San's and Wooyoung's bodies. You were more preoccupied with the touch of their rough hands on your heated body, the warmth of their breath on tender skin, and the sounds of their hoarse moaning right by your ear.

They were an absolute mess, slowly driving you crazy. Emotions raged in your stomach, making you feel guilty, embarrassed and… lustful. You practically dozed off at dawn, when the boys managed to calm down a bit and fall into a deep sleep.

The apartment is incredibly quiet; you can't hear a single sound, and only the soft sniffle on your neck, with the feeling of warm breath dancing across your bare skin, breaks this peaceful silence.

Wooyoung is still fast asleep, clutching you in his arms like a favorite teddy bear, his leg wrapped possessively around your thigh as it always has been. Even when he was asleep, he couldn't bring himself to let you go for a second.

You ran the palm of your hand over the sheet and felt nothing but the cold under your fingers. Sannie has been awake for a while now, and for a moment you're annoyed by this fact. You wish that he was still in bed with you, soft and gentle as he always was. So that the three of you could spend this special morning together. The graduation robes are scattered all over the room in a mess of things, and all you want to do is push them further and further into the wardrobe and forget about them forever. The dog days are finally over. You are now official free.

Sensual, full lips touch the sensitive spot on your neck, and the sensation sends shivers down your spine. The throat is suddenly dry, sweat begins to form on your neck from the abruptly increase in desire, and you close your eyes tightly, aware of every touch and breath coming from Wooyoung more clearly than before. It's as if your whole body is completely focused on him, reacting to every fleeting movement and every sound with even more eager devotion.

You're still too receptive from last night, and you need more space to try and keep all those dirty, depraved thoughts from taking over and you. You studiously ignore the slight shiver of excitement that is happily tickling your breasts and causing the muscles in your lower abdomen to ripple in a pleasant way. You bite your lip to keep yourself from groaning in frustration as the images and sensations of the night flash in front of your eyes. You need to stop right now. It's too bad, but it's too sweet.

You start to wriggle, trying to get away from Wooyoung, who is still sleeping, but he just pulls you closer to his chest, as if he wants to dissolve into your body completely, and you melt.

Wooyoung has always been so insatiable and greedy for any kind of physical contact that you can offer him, like an adorable little puppy, that you can just wag your finger at him and he'll come running to you. He always had "too much space between you"; it was important to him to hold you constantly, to touch soft skin with his fingertips, to leave butterfly kisses in every possible place, to knead your thighs and squeeze waist possessively, to pull you so close that there wasn't a centimetre between you. You were his darling, soft and sweet girl in all the right places, and he just couldn't help himself.

San used to tell him that he was being a bit greedy and that he needed to learn how to share you with others. After all, sharing meant caring, and you were also his chagi.

Yes, you wanted to be taken care of, and that frightened you to the depths of your most forbidden fantasies. You wanted to be nervous about them; you wanted them to use you as they pleased, to make you take everything they had to offer, even if it destroyed you completely.

Your desire for them was more than you should have as friends. And that feeling had only grown stronger over the past year.

But despite Wooyoung's obsession and possessiveness, his touch always soothed you. He gave you the comfort you needed whenever you felt the need. And in the end, his hands would always nudge you in the direction of San, so that he could have his own moment of sharing with you. You were their own personal cuddly toy, and that was fine with you, because there was no place in the world where you could feel more protected and cuddly than in their arms.

But at the moment, you wanted nothing more than to get away from his touch and calm down your excitement. You'd been so needy since last night, and Wooyoung had only added to your frustration.

He's shirtless, his skin warm and smooth, and you can be sure it's golden like caramel where the sun has licked it. Delicious. You can almost taste him on the tip of your tongue, and suddenly you're tempted to sink your teeth into him for a taste, but you just bite down harder on your lower lip and stifle a moan.

You need to stop being so intensely... aware of him.

Maybe you were still drunk from the last night; after all, you couldn't remember exactly how many shots of tequila you'd consumed before dragging Yunho into the ladies' room to start kissing passionately. And you found yourself in an even more suggestive position with Seonghwa after another round of colourful, unnamed cocktails.

From then on, every innocent act made you feel lustful and hungry for intimacy.

Was it karma or something? You weren't sure, but you were more inclined to think that it was the lack of passionate sex you hadn't been having for a year now. You hadn't been able to find anyone suitable for a long-term relationship after you'd broken up with Suho, and boys-toys hadn't given you any pleasure.

You wanted more than ten minutes of gasping under the covers with awkward fingers poking into the pussy. They were cum faster than you were able to get yourself aroused. Pathetic.

You needed to satisfy that hunger that was eating you from the inside out, that oppressive feeling of emptiness inside you that could only be filled by a big dick that you could choke on for the rest of your life. A thick and long one, with visibly bulging veins, that could really hit all the sensitive places inside you, causing you to have orgasm after orgasm. And having not one but two perfectly matched options handy hasn't made things any easier.

If you offered to suck them off, Wooyoung's dick would be in your mouth in no time. He was always a fireball, passionate, and impatient, and San…San liked to play with his food before getting down to business. You were in awe of how perfect their dynamic was with such different personalities.

You wanted to see how attractive they would be when a warm throat closed around their cocks, when their beautiful faces were contorted with intense pleasure, and when you heard them moan out your name.

Damn it.

It's moments like these that make you realize that moving in with Wooyoung and San was the best and worst decision you ever made. Unless you count buying a pair of designer jeans that make your butt a magnet for people's hands.

The time went by far too quickly for your liking. It was easy to get lost in the succession of school days, week after week, punctuated by movie nights, spontaneous outings and a seemingly endless stream of student parties. Everything in your life changes. From the big renovation of your apartment, which was Hongjoong's job - he was still over the loss of his favourite vintage sofa - to the move in of San and Wooyoung. Things started to move at an even faster pace the day the boys dragged their suitcases into the dark space of your ultra-modern living room, to a general "You should have done this a long time ago".

It was a spontaneous and hasty decision. But what could have gone wrong? It's always been the three of you, and you had no idea that sharing space would have any effect on your relationship. God, how wrong you were. They played cat and mouse with you, testing your mettle and your patience. The memory of that moment is still so vivid in your mind.

"Come on, chagi, try it; it's quite tasty." San brought a spoonful of the dark green liquid, which Wooyoung proudly called the best hangover soup in the world, to your lips.

Jung Wooyoung and his ego, of course.

"Go ahead, baby; be good and open your mouth. It'll make you feel good, I promise." That last sentence was full of innuendo, and it didn't take a genius to see it. In fact, everything that came out of Wooyoung's mouth was absolute filth.

He was practically purring in your ear, touching your delicate skin with every word, and you swear you could feel the touch of his tongue on your earlobe. Oh, fuck. His hands slid down your shoulders, deftly kneading the muscles that had gone stiff, his thumbs sliding up the vertebrae of your neck, and he dug a little bit into the hair at the back of your neck. In that moment, you were ready to do anything for him, whatever he asked.

"That's my Chagia, so docile and sweet." San would continue to feed you slowly with a spoon, smiling sweetly at you as if it were the most pleasant thing in the world to do. From time to time, he would wipe away the drops of liquid that ran down your lips with his thumb, as if in a romantic drama. You were perfectly capable of doing it yourself. But San's meaningful raised eyebrow made it clear that it was better to let him take care of you without resistance. San's language of love had always been to serve, and he took every opportunity to remind you of that.

The silence around you was nice and cozy—you'd even say relaxing—especially since you could still feel the humming bass of last night's music in your head. And all in all, you weren't feeling your best. Hell, that shit you drank last night was strong. This went on for a few more minutes until the plate in front of you was empty and Woo's face was pressed against your cheek in a cute puppy way.

"Woo, and I wanted to talk to you about something, Y/N," San began, his voice suddenly becoming so sweet. He took your hand gently, his thumb stroking your knuckles lazily. He obviously wanted something from you.

"Sure, I'm all ears."

"We'd like to move in with you, peach, what do you think?" Wooyoung was pecking at your cheek, acting like a real sweetheart, but you knew every one of his tactics to get what he wanted.

"You're not going to get it if Woo keeps licking my cheek."

"But, Peach…" He whined, pursing his puffy lips in a resentful manner. Okay, he was cute as hell, but you were never going to tell him that.

"Chagi." You turned your attention back to San, who looked like he was confessing his love to you: Are this hearts in his eyes? Or are you still drunk?

"Agreed, we are practically living here anyway; I even have my own toothbrush in the bathroom. It's just a formality." He was awfully proud of it, squaring his shoulders and imagining himself under your gaze.

"We want to take care of you, baby."

And this is where you should have told them to fuck off and forget the way to your apartment, change the locks, and give San his toothbrush back. But whether it was the soft and somehow loving look of San's cat eyes paired with deep, sweet dimples or Wooyoung's gentle hands that started to knead your shoulders again in a languidly seductive way, you nodded affirmatively.

They were right; you were all practically living together. The amount of their stuff in your flat was unreal—the T-shirts you slept in, the perfume bottles left everywhere, study notes, games, pajamas and scarves, Wooyoung's luxurious leather jackets, and San's books—you could start a collection, but their stuff was just as much yours. It was also the constant cause of your and Suho's fights; he was always jealous of you and them, completely unaware of the dynamic between the three of you. They'd been glued to your thigh for years, and the fact that you had a boyfriend wouldn't change that. Narrow-minded prick.

"I think you're right. Let's give it a go."

"My little darling." San gave a dazzling smile, showing off his dimples even more, and pressed your hand to his lips. God, Choi San was a real menace. It was hard to believe that this pretty cat in front of you was none other than the one who was caught many times having rough sex in the middle of the university library. Once, he was even caught in a threesome, but you didn't want to point the finger at Wooyoung for putting him up to it.

"Yeah, that's our girl." Wooyoung pressed his lips to your cheek once more, salivating as much as he could along the way.

"Jung Wooyoung!" You squealed, wiping the drool from your cheek in disgust, but Woo was already happily scurrying into the living room, laughing loudly.

"We'll look after you, chagi."

That was San's last sentence before he ran his tongue over your hand, licked his fingers like a cat, and ran after Woo with an evil giggle.

"Choi San, come back at once!"

You are going to have so much fun here. Too much fun for your own good.

"Mmm… Peach, you are already awake." The soft touch of plump lips on your shoulder means that Wooyoung has woken up and wants to have your full attention.

"It has been some time. But I don't want to go anywhere. How are you feeling? Last night, when we came home, you and San were really drunk.

Wooyoung hugs you even tighter, nestling his face between your shoulder blades and taking a deep breath of your scent. Your skin is tickled by the tips of his long hair. A light touch on your lower back sends a jolt up your spine, making you arch slightly in his arms. Wooyoung is always like this; his defiant and needy attitude shouldn't be anything unusual for you, so you should stop reacting to him like this.

"Thank you for looking after us, peach. You're always so nice. Sannie and I don't deserve you." He kisses your neck. This time the touch lingers a little longer, and a feeling of excitement rises in your chest. "We haven't caused you any trouble, have we, little girl?" He purrs as he rubs his nose up against your shoulder. You couldn't help but notice how San's habits have become Wooyoung's habits, and vice versa. Now you have to put up with all that twin feline energy.

You turn to face him, and even after a night of sleeping with his hair tousled and without his usual cheeky grin, Wooyoung still looks pretty damn good. He's comfortable, a little sleepy, but no less seductive than he ever was. Woo has always had this sensual aura about him. Underneath the overt sexuality and the bitchy attitude, there was something else—something dark and seductive. You want to kiss him right now, so badly. Your hand runs through his silky hair, letting it fall in soft waves on either side of his face. Dark strands that are long enough to be pulled through easily. The world's handsomest boy.

It's all too easy to fall in love with him.

He kisses your palm playfully and pokes his nose into it like a cat hungry for affection, and you don't mind his purring with pleasure.

You wonder what he's going to sound like when he cums, God, you need to help yourself.

"Let me think." You run your fingers through his hair, lightly massaging his scalp. It's a deceptively gentle gesture before you pull hard on the roots of his hair, causing him to cry out in surprise.

"Oh, babe, why?" He purses his lips in offense, hoping you'll fall for his cute look. But you've known Wooyoung for years, and judging by the mischievous gleam in his eyes, he knew exactly what he was getting at.

"Firstly, you robbed me of my chance for great sex with your whining and dragging me home. Secondly, you behaved horribly when I tried to persuade you to take a shower and you kept me awake until the morning by clinging to me and fidgeting on the bed. Today I demand the royal treatment because you really messed up last night. This was not part of my plan for the prom at all."

Woo smiles back wickedly, practically baring his teeth in a wolfish grin.

"Peaches, are you really such a needy girl? Well, what are we going to do about it? San and I will have to do our best to make it up to you." He suddenly turns you over so that you are lying on your back, sandwiched between the mattress and his lithe body. Wooyoung is hovering over you, his hair falling all over your face, and you can't help but notice how sexy he looks in this position, which is annoying the hell out of you. He doesn't even have to try very hard to send you over the edge.

Strong hands are resting on the sides of your head, letting you enjoy the sight of the seductively bulging veins that run down his forearms. Fuck, you've always had a weakness for his hands, and who wouldn't when they look like this? Woo leans his head towards you until your noses touch, like a predator cornering his prey.

"Baby, I have my doubts that you'll be satisfied with anyone, so don't sulk. And you know Sannie and I will have to approve of someone running their fingers down your knickers." He smiles broadly at you, clearly enjoying your annoyance when you roll your eyes at him.

"Jung Wooyoung, stop it!" Your hand leaves an angry red mark on the bare skin of his chest, and he grunts. It will take all the patience in the world not to beat him to death or kiss him. "I swear I'll wash your mouth out with soap someday." Or maybe you'll lick him from the inside out. "And stop sticking your pretty little nose where you shouldn't. You don't have to worry about who I'm gonna fuck."

"So what if it bothers me? What are you going to do with it, Peach?" He bites his lips in anticipation and raises an eyebrow in expectation, as if he were challenging you to go on.

The way that smug look is on his face makes you feel a little pissed off. You get a little cocky and decide to use the same tactic he did. Wrapping your hands around his face, you're pulling him even closer, resting him on your forearms and your lips nearly touch. He has siren eyes that are deep and mesmerising, and the intensity of his gaze causes your cheeks to flush and you to bite down on your lower lip. The gleam in his fox eyes is proof that he is enjoying every second of your little game.

"Seonghwa kisses you like he's fucking your mouth with his tongue, it's fucking heaven and you can do whatever you want with that fact, baby. I would have ridden him like a stallion in front of everyone last night if it wasn't for you and San's drunken arses". You push him off of you, and Wooyoung rolls over to the other side of the bed as you sit up.

There's something in the air, and you feel you've said something wrong, judging by the way Wooyoung's eyes are flashing with an emotion you can't quite describe. It's a weird mix between anger, envy, desire and something else. But whatever it is, it is making your pussy clench in anticipation of it.

Damn, when did you start thinking with what's between your legs instead of your brain?

He stares at you intently, as if he's trying to decide whether he's going to scold you or fuck you senseless. As lust flashes through his languid onyx eyes like a shooting star, fast but unmistakable, and his pink tongue flicks out to wet his swollen lips, Wooyoung knows exactly what he's going to do to you.

You reach out to stroke his shoulder, and just as you expected, his skin is the most delicious shade of caramel. You can't help but want to run your tongue all over it.

Oh, shit. Now would be a good time to remind yourself: He's your best friend.

"Where`s San?" He asks you.

The expression on his face is, for the most part, neutral, with just a slight hint of lust and anticipation. He slowly licks his delicious lips and looks at you with bedroom eyes. You feel the warm moisture building up between your thighs. If he keeps looking at you like that, you're going to make a puddle of lust where you're sitting right now. You squeeze your thighs tighter to keep the liquid from dripping shamefully onto the bed, praying to all the gods that Wooyoung won't notice.

"I don't know. He wasn't in the bed when I woke up."

"Good."

What the hell is 'GOOD'? You need to collect your thoughts and leave this stuffy room, but the way Wooyoung's eyes slide over your body before, and slowly sucking his lower lip tells you there's nowhere to run.

"Come to me, sweetheart; I want you in my arms." He is stroking himself on his thigh, the silk fabric of his pajamas leaving no room for imagination as it outlines the taut muscles of his gorgeous thighs. His legs are spread a little wider to draw your attention to where he wants you now, and you can clearly see the imprint of his thick dick through the fabric. Damn. It's completely hard, and you can't help but notice how big it is.

His actions send signals straight to the nerves that control your cunt. The wet heat is running between your legs and your arousal is increasing. A palpable shiver runs through all body as you squirm and writhe under the intensity of his gaze.

The rational part of you is literally beating in a hysterical frenzy. It's your hope that your stupid brain will realise the full implications of what's happening, and that you'll be able to put a stop to it. Even if the boundaries of your friendship were highly questionable, you were friends. While the evil voice in the back of your head was cheering you on: "C'mon, what's the bad that can happen?"

He was inviting you, and who were you to refuse? Not that you wanted to.

They'd go crazy if San and Wooyoung knew what thoughts and fantasies lived in your head every day. Huh. They had no idea their sweet chagia had such a dark and dirty mind. You take a deep breath.

Screw it.

You slowly crawl across the bed towards him. He watches you with a squinting, predatory look on his face until one of your legs has been thrown across his body and you're almost sitting on top of him. Almost, as your thighs struggle to keep you in that rigid position, but apparently Woo wasn't in the mood, and his broad palms force your hips down so you're sitting all the way in his lap. Before you realise what you're doing, you're pinned against his crotch, his hard cock touching your aching clit as you move against him, demanding physical stimulation. The contact was so good that it sent a shiver down your spine, and you almost moaned at the tiny moment of pleasure it gave you. Damn, it was massive—so thick you started salivating in your mouth. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You're up to your neck in shit.

"There you are, starlight, in my hands." His voice, once so high and soft, was now hoarse and deep. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you even closer to him, so that there was hardly any space between the two of you. "Baby girl, are you still upset about Seonghwa?" It's a nickname he rarely uses, and it sends an electric shock through your lower abdomen, triggering a feeling you're not sure you can control right now. He leans in close to you and presses his wet lips against the side of your ear. "Tell me what I can do to stop you being angry with me."

"Kiss me, make me feel good." The evil little voice in the back of your head chimes in with glee. "Blow my brains out until my head feels empty and light." It says.

A whole new sensation takes over. Your body starts to heat up in anticipation of what is to come. Then the room will seem to shrink and the air will fill with a tension and a desire.

"I don't know. You've really pissed me off." You look up at him through your impossibly thick lashes, your lips in a fake pout. You weren't the innocent one; you could have played just as badly as they did. "You'll have to try harder, pretty boy." You let your finger nails run down the length of his neck. Wooyoung tilts his head back to reveal a chin line that could have been carved from the finest marble.

As his hands lazily caress your thighs, lifting your T-shirt higher and higher, your skin burns under his palms. Damn, he's scalding you.

The wetness between your legs is becoming more and more intense as the conversation goes on and on. Your juices seep through the thin lace of your panties, dripping from your pussy, leaving little dark streaks on the silk of his trousers where they touch your thighs. The air between you crackles with tension and desire; you feel yourself sweating; you're so hot and needy; and Wooyoung is no help at all.

His aura is one of dominance, and you swallow in anticipation. A storm is about to break and you don't want to be safe.

"I'll do whatever you want me to do for you, Y/N."

You're done for.

"Then kiss me, stupid boy, make me feel good."

He growls back at you, embracing you on the back of the head and practically forcing your faces together. The palm of his hand clenches possessively on the back of your neck with palpable pain, and the sound that comes out of you is something between a sob and a moan. With the sudden movement, you feel yourself pressing even harder against his dick, and it sends a pleasurable pulse through your clit.

Wooyoung presses his forehead against yours and your lips are just a breath away from each other.

You stare back at him without blinking. His eyes are half closed as he watches you in silence, like a tiger stalking its prey, ready to pounce with its jaws clenched. It is in a low, dangerously calm tone that he speaks. "Are you sure this is what you want to do, baby girl? I'm biting." It's mixed with your sighing and seductive lips, and you can barely make out the words.

"P-please…"

His moan is loud, guttural, and mildly painful, and then…

O MY GOD.

Those soft lips are pressed hard against yours in an urgent, hungry kiss. His mouth is insistent and demanding, his thumb digging into the skin of your neck, turning the touch into a rough grip, and his tongue gliding along the bottom of your lip. Slowly, as he pulls your lips apart, he moves in quickly, and you shudder at the sensual sensation as he runs his tongue over the roof of your mouth and licks your teeth. It should have been dirty and rough, but instead you find yourself moaning with wanton need.

"Wooyoung..." The moan of his name was so desperate, so needy, so full of lust and desire.

"Goddamn, I love it when you say my name."

He kisses you with renewed ferocity, biting your lips almost to the point of bleeding. Wooyoung is too passionate; he licks your mouth with his tongue, and literally shoves it down your throat. He kisses you like he's dying of thirst and you're the only way to make him drink. Spittle runs down your chin, it's wet and dirty, but you can't stop, you don't want to stop. Wooyoung's tongue is practically fucking you in the mouth.

And God, you want more. It feels unreal, too extreme to be a reasonable response to a kiss, the heat between your legs, your clit throbbing with need, your nerves on fire.

Wooyoung lets go of you for a moment and you stare at him with your eyes wide open. Your heart is pounding wildly and your breathing is so ragged that you're practically choking to death. Licking away any remnants of the kiss you shared, his wet pink tongue pokes out from between his plump lips.

His hand slides down your face, cupping your chin and tilting your head slightly so that your eyes meet his, his gaze clouded with lust as if his fingers were digging deep inside you. You can't say a word as a wicked smile spreads across his sharp, enchanting face.

Now you have a better understanding of all those damsels who are ready to spread their legs at the flick of his fingers.

"Tell me you want more, baby. I have a feeling this apology isn't enough. I need to do more than that. I'm so desperate for forgiveness.

"Don't I need to be forgiven too, Woo? You shouldn't be so greedy. That voice, oh shit.

You turn sharply around and find yourself staring into San's beautiful cat eyes. He's so damn good-looking you swallow a groan. It must be illegal for someone to look this good in normal jeans and a plain black shirt. But San had a body worth dying over.

A real girl's dinner.

What the hell are you going to do now? How long had he stayed there?

"San-ah… how…" You find yourself stuttering. Your mouth dries up and you can't utter a word, but even if you could, your brain can't form coherent thoughts. You can't bring yourself to look away from him, and something deep inside you knows that he will punish you if you try.

"What is it, Gongjunim? Did the cat eat your tongue?" He raises an eyebrow at you, a shit-eating grin playing at the corners of his lips. As if in mockery, his soft, patronising tone of voice slides over your skin. San combines a sensual, gentle nature with a seductive one that makes you feel he's looking for a weakness before pouncing. His fucking duality. One moment he's a little sweetheart, the next he's a lecherous demon who wants to sink his teeth into your throat and devour you. "Come on, Chagia, I promise I won't disappoint you; I'm very good at excuses."

Responding to his sultry purr, your pussy clenches shamefacedly.

The excitement of it all makes your brain feel like mush and sets your skin on fire.

You start squirming in Wooyoung's arms, and now that San's here, you belatedly realise what you've gotten yourself into. Is it time for a change of scenery or something? No, you want to stay. Desperately.

You need them to blow your brains out, to make you dumb and submissive and a pretty little toy for them to play with. Sometimes you have to stop before you cross the line, but where is the line when you're literally sitting on your best friend's hard cock?

Hell, you don't know what you're supposed to do - run or beg - but you clearly know what they want to do to you, judging by Wooyoung's dick twitching between your thighs and San slowly licking his lips as he looks at your bare ass peeking out from under your shirt. His shirt.

There must be some kind of telepathic connection between Wooyoung and San. After a few seconds of intense eye contact, San pulls his T-shirt over his head, tosses it aside and slowly walks over to you. The grin on his face seems to have changed; it has become even darker than before. Hungrier.

And you don't think this is a good time to start drooling. But damn it, you want to lick him from head to toe.

Between the three of you, there's a chaos of emotion and desire. It's mixed with adrenaline and a distant fear of what's going to happen. There has to be an end to this game of predator and prey, and why not do it now? Sighing, you finally give in.

In the morning, you'll consider the consequences.

"Maybe you should kiss me too, San-ah, and I'll start thinking about forgiving.

Hot lips instantly press an open, wet kiss to your shoulder. The bed buckles under the weight of another man's body. San's strong arms are wrapped around your waist and his fingers clench your t-shirt into a fist. He's hot, warm and hard, and you can feel the hardness of his dick through your trousers as he presses down hard against you. His mouth is sucking, biting and licking your skin as if his life depended on it. Sharing an understanding look with Wooyoung, San slides his lips higher up your body.

"Sannie…" Before planting a hot kiss on your neck, you whimper as his teeth sink into your sensitive flesh.

The moan that comes from the back of your throat is so deep that for a moment you wonder if it's coming from you at all.

Pure pleasure shoots through you as you feel Woo's long tongue on the other side of your neck. He lets out the sexiest moan deep in his throat, as if he's having the time of his life, savouring every second of the way his lips explore the nape of your neck. You're distracted. Your eyes roll back in pleasure as he pulls the skin between his lips, leaving a purple hickey on the back of your neck.

"Oh, my God, boys."

"That's my darling, Chagia." His voice is sultry and seductive, and you can clearly hear the saturi again, as it tends to do at times when San is in a highly aroused state.

"You're so beautiful, my peach." Wooyoung whispers to you, and you just melt away completely.

You whimper as Woo begins to run his hands up and down your thighs and arse, squeezing and pulling. He mooed softly as you made little circular movements with your hips and rubbed his cock against you. Woo punishes you by slapping your bottom if you cuddle too hard. You'll need to be obedient as they play with you.

The sound fills the room along with the collective moaning of Wooyoung's and San's.

"What a dirty little girl you are. I think you need to be taught how to obey." Woo spanks you a few more times and you wiggle your hips in an impatient way.

It feels so good.

San pulls your t-shirt up to your breasts while all your attention is focused on Wooyoung. Your little thong is completely transparent and does nothing to hide your sex or the excitement building within you. They are practically digging into your needy pussy because of the position you are now in. A chorus of gasps and moans can be heard from your best friends as their eyes focus on that big, wet spot. San's greedy hands press you even closer to his body, so that you can feel his full erection on top of your plump, bare bum.

"You're so fucking wet." Wooyoung hisses. "Like a bitch leaking just thinking about our cocks in your tight little cunt. We'll destroy you, Peach."

Before you realise what's happening, Woo's hands slide down your back, your nipples tensing in the cool open air. The soft fabric of your t-shirt falls to the floor, and suddenly, hot wetness envelops your left nipple and he sucks hard on it, the pressure causing pain that turns to pleasure as his tongue touches the hard bud. Your head immediately falls back onto San's shoulder as you open the soft space of your throat to his insatiable mouth. You let out a long groan, and your hand rests on Wooyoung's head, tugging lightly at the soft lengths of his hair.

You feel like you could explode at any moment, even though they haven't done anything to you yet. You're burning, almost feverish, as the growing fire between your thighs reaches unbearable levels. You can't breathe; your skin is hypersensitive. Your head tilts to the side, and you whimper San's name in the most pathetic intonation possible. His hand slides lower and lower, past your waist and your stomach, to the place where you most want to feel him. It hasn't even come close to touching your pussy yet, but the thought of it is enough to make you squirm with excitement.

His hands move down low enough to touch the skin of your naked legs and up slowly, frantically, until he reaches where you are starting to get aroused. The palm of his hand encircles your pussy in a possessive way, the small mound of flesh lying so perfectly in the palm of his hand. You tremble a little at this, and try to spread your legs wider so that his fingers can rub against the moist slit, so that he can dive in between the warm folds until your pussy spreads out beautifully for him, so that he can rub your clit with ease.

"Mmm… what a wet little thing. I bet my Gongjunim has the most beautiful pussy I have ever seen in my life. Fleshy, shiny, and pink - just the way I like it. He gasps for breath. He puts his hands on your hips and rubs his hard cock against the curve of your ass a couple of times. "Do you feel that, Chagia? No one can make me as hard as you can." On your skin, his breath feels like fire. Hoping for a little more friction, you arch your backside. The gesture reveals a hiss from his side.

San's fingers, one tempting back and forth with a feathery touch, spread the excitement building in your slit beneath the thin material. Your pussy clenches around nothing at all in the most uncomfortable way, and you know that he can feel it.

"Do you like this chagi? Wooyoung's mouth on your full, pretty tits? My fingers on your sweet little snatch?" San's tone is almost mocking. His tongue is licking his lips; his fingers continue to stroke your clothed pussy in a leisurely manner; and he watches intently as Wooyoung literally chokes on your breasts. "We are gonna fuck you until you squeal like the slutty little bitch you are." He growls into your ear, and the sound of it makes you pull on Woo's hair with all your might.

And you always had the impression that Wooyoung's mouth was dirty.

A soft moan slips out of the brunette's swollen lips, which are now wrapped so tightly around your nipple that you're sure they're going to leave a mark on it. As he pulls back with an audible pop, you let out a small sound as you look at his ecstatic face. His eyes are half closed, his eyelids flutter slightly and a beautiful flush of colour has appeared on his cheeks. His plump lips are glistening with the saliva and the service he is giving to your tits.

"Are you feeling good, peach?" He chuckles weakly as he watches you fall apart in San's skilled hands, leaving you as beautiful as ever in his eyes. Woo gives your nipple a hard pinch, only to then let his tongue run over it. The sudden change in sensation causes your head to begin to spin, and you let out a loud moan of pleasure.

"Please… I need… more… Youngiee." You stammer out the words, your voice shaking and your body trembling.

"You look so pretty when you beg. But do you want to know something, сhagi? You'll look even more beautiful with your cunt stretched around my dick. I will ravage your tiny pussy, Gongjunim. I'm going to make you mine." San finally kisses you; though it's hard to call it a kiss, he dives into your lips like a hungry man, sucking them so deeply and passionately, with an insistence that you don't even think you'll ever understand.

His tongue is merciless as he explores every millimeter of the inside of your mouth. This kiss is heavenly, and with every second that passes, you find yourself wanting more, wanting him to spoil you in every way that he can. To have his way with you until you have no more patience. And it is these thoughts that make you wriggle in Wooyoung's arms. You try to rub your thighs together, hoping to relieve the unbearable heat inside you.

"The taste is so damn good."

You can feel Woo squeezing your breasts almost in sync, his warm tongue sliding over the plump flesh once more, licking at the aroused nipples, and his teeth scratching the sensitive skin with the lightest of touches. You savour the lightning bolts of pleasure that the two of them cause to bounce around your body. It's almost painful, but you know you're loving this.

Half gasping, half squealing at the sheer, blunt pressure of San's nimble, kneading fingers finding their way to your labia through the mesh of the thong. Your lower abdomen clenches in a reflexive spasm, and your hands are sticky with sweat as you grasp the wrist of his hand.

"Oh, your pussy is so sensitive, isn't it, Chagia?" San cooed with feigned tenderness, and with a strange sadism, he pressed his middle finger against your cunt, sliding it right over the spot where your clit was, causing your hips to shake. The lubrication of your arousal made it much more effective for him to stimulate you, and he would literally bring you to orgasm with minimal effort. He purred softly as you responded, like a big cat purring, and just when you thought he couldn't fuck with your sanity even more, he turned his head and spat on your lips, a glob of saliva dribbling into your open mouth and you choked out a moan.

It's so rough and dirty, but your body responds the best it can, arching into his arms and pressing your breasts even harder against Wooyoung's face.

The brunette moans in response and lifts his foxy eyes to you. You can see the corner of his lips curl into a smirk before he bites down hard on your nipple. Fuck, your life will never be the same. And they haven't even got around to fucking you properly yet. It's like heaven and hell at the same time.

"I want to hear you whimper, Gongjunim." San's hand grips the back of your neck very tightly, causing you to gasp for breath from the sudden lack of air. Your eyes begin to roll up at the possessive touch of his hand on your throat, and you begin to jerk your hips, your clit pressing against Wooyoung's cock, and he lets out a long, hard moan.

"Please, Sannie." You're breathing out.

"Look at her, San, our girl, slobbering like a brainless slut." Wooyoung wipes the viscous saliva from your parted lips, then pushes his fingers into your mouth with a sharp, deep thrust. For a second you choke and begin to gurgle around the long phalanges.

He hadn't removed the rings yesterday and now the heavy metal makes your tongue feel cold. "Think of the way my dick is fucking your little throat, starlight. Suck it hard." You wheeze and gurgle, your saliva bubbling at the corners of your lips, but you have done exactly as you have been told.

It was rough, it was horrible and it was so wet that it was almost disgusting to watch. But Woo enjoyed it; he literally raped your mouth with his fingers in a sort of sadistic sense. A few thick strands of saliva would stick to your swollen lips as he pulled his fingers out of your mouth.

"Look at you. Taking my fingers in your mouth like that. Such a good girl."

This whole game has been nothing more than a distraction from the main action. There's a short circuit in your body as a sharp sensation pierces every nerve in your body. San suddenly slaps you hard on your wet pussy, the contact sending sparks of pain and pleasure flying across your skin, and you let out a squeal.

"Oh my God. Oh, my God. I'm going to… I'm going to…" You go over the edge as you feel your juices pouring down your legs, your vaginal muscles contracting, forcing more fluid to pour out of you, the combination of their names coming weakly from your lips as your orgasm washes over your weakened limbs.

"Fuck, Peach is so hot… You're squirting." You belatedly realise that Wooyoung is also cumming as he throws his head back in pleasure, his eyes rolling up and his mouth opening in a long, whimpering moan.

You can hardly catch your breath when you feel San rest his chin on your shoulder, his grip tightening around you, whispering in your ear.

"One more gongjunim; give me one more orgasm and then I'll caress you."

"Ah, San." The searing sensation of his fingers roughly pinching your clit through the wet material of your thong causes you to cry out hoarsely in agony. The sound of your wet, sensitive cunt splashing was clear and vivid; the sensation was brutal, but so indescribable you were ready to faint from pleasure.

He's going to tear you apart.

"Cum for me, Chagia. I know you can do it. Sperm for us; make Youngie and me proud of you".

Your eyes rolled back in your head and you swore that your cunt was on fire, your whole body shuddering in electrifying spasms of pleasure that made your toes curl up and your thighs shake. San's hand was still firmly around your throat, holding your head upright as you had your orgasm.

It had shattered you so badly that the fall seemed dramatic, and you went completely limp as the orgasm dissipated, turning you into an inconsolable, whimpering, disorderly mass.

They had blown your brains out.

"There you are, Gongjunim, I got you. You did so well." San muttered, but your mind was too tired to admit it. Amused at how angry and lost you looked, you saw stars as Wooyoung's hand tilted your head to the side in a teasing way to look at your confused face.

"You're no longer angry with us, are you, Peach?"

San removes his hand from your throat and allows Wooyoung to pull your face up to his own. Gentle fingers caress your cheekbones and soft lips wipe away the tears rolling down your cheeks. At one point, you didn't even realise you were crying. It's such a contrast to his previous behaviour; here he is your usual adored Jung Wooyoung, a little clingy, a little annoying and with an unrealistic maternal instinct. Your best friend.

Fuck. Now it is time for you to start crying for the real time. You begin to sob, pushing Wooyoung away from you in a desperate attempt to get out of his arms. You can feel the wetness underneath you and it makes you feel worse and worse. You need to get out of here now. Your behaviour frightens them to death and San's hands are on your body again, squeezing your shoulders gently.

"Stop, stop for a second, Y/N. It's all right, Chagia. We have you."

You freeze at the sound of your name, like a deer caught in the headlights.

In anticipation of his next move, your whole body tenses like a string. Wooyoung's fingers intertwine with yours. It's a familiar gesture, so familiar to you, so ordinary, so perfected over the years of your friendship. San lets you go when he realises you're not going anywhere, and his face comes to rest next to Wooyoung's as you look at him.

He's handsome, too, to the point of madness, and trembles at the knees. His cheeks are flushed. There's still a lingering gleam of lust and excitement in his eyes, but with a touch of strange emotion. His plush lips are soft and swollen from all the kissing, and his body glistens with sweat. And the reason he looks like that is because of you. You look at Wooyoung and see that he looks exactly the same, but the emotion in his eyes is more obvious than ever.

You want to crawl off his lap and cower in shame in the corner of the room so you don't have to look at all that tenderness and loveliness in his foxy eyes. You can handle his cheeky, flirtatious backside with ease, but this kind of Wooyoung is new territory for you.

"We… shit. This shouldn't have happened. This is the first rational thought to come out of your mouth all day. And you should have said it a lot sooner, before your two best friends made you cum twice with a squirting orgasm.

"Chagia, I think there's something we need to talk about, but first let's get you back to your normal self."

You don't argue; just nod and realize that San is absolutely right. You look like a complete mess, covered in saliva and lubricant. You can feel Wooyoung's cum seeping through the fabric of his pajama bottoms and drying on the inside of your thigh.

You look fucked.

"Yes, I think we have a lot to talk about."

It sounds terribly stupid, but what else can you say? Can we forget it? Or can we fuck again?

All your years of sexual longing for them have turned into a resounding slap in your face.

"Go take a bath, Peach, and we'll talk. San and I will take care of the rest."

For some reason, this sentence gave you a vague feeling of déjà vu. But you pushed the thought out of your head as quickly as it had come.

"Okay."

You finally slide off Wooyoung's lap, ignoring their stares at your almost naked body, there's no point in covering up or acting like a shy maiden, San's fingertips were rubbing your pussy just five minutes ago, bringing you to some kind of crazy orgasm, and the entire lower half of Woo's body is drenched in your secretions. If you've ever wanted to imagine how your friendship would turn out, this is it.

You trudge to the bathroom on your tired legs, pulling off your disgustingly wet thong on the way and throwing it on the floor. You turn on the light, turn on the tap and the whole room is immediately filled with the warm steam of hot water. Outside the door you can hear the muffled voices of the boys, who seem to be having some sort of heated argument, judging by San's irritated moaning and Wooyoung's loud whining.

You don't want to go into details; you still have time to destroy yourself. Your eyes catch sight of your reflection in the mirror. Tomorrow has come much earlier for you, if the fucked-up look on your face is any indication. Dishevelled hair, hickey marks, bruises and swollen lips from biting. What a beautiful morning after graduation!

"Wooyoung, you should have waited for me." San's voice is much louder now.

"As if I'm the only one who fucked her. Don't try to tell me it's all my fault."

You still don't want to join the conversation.

A pink, glistening puddle of something that smells like candy spreads across the bathtub. Thanks to Mingi, you have a whole collection of these colourful bombs. He's always had a soft spot for all things cute and charming, and he's taken every opportunity to spoil you to death with them.

With a tired sigh, you take another look at yourself in the mirror. So, Peach, are you ready for the consequences?

Turning away from your reflection, you lock the door with a click.

854 notes · View notes

nyyrami · 29 days

Text

WHEN THEY HAVE A NIGHTMARE . . . synopsis. sleep was meant to be a break from the terrors of the normal day world. but even sleep is not escape for your lover and nightmares plague the crevices of their mind…

tags. satoru gojo x reader, nanami kento x reader, toji fushiguro x reader. angst. hurt/comfort. nightmares. mentions of wounds and battles.death duh.

a/n. i love this trope sm i genuinely don’t know why lol. if you enjoyed a like or reblog would greatly be appreciated ty <3 dk why gojos one is so long, sorry I got carried away with it… this is not proofread so don’t come for me sfter spelling errors this was rotting in my drafts.

GOJO SATORU was no stranger to nightmares. as much as he would like to say he was unaffected by his battles. he was human at the end of the day and like a human he would suffer trauma from it. it was only when he’d met you and he first slept in the same bed as you that the nightmares ceased. wrapped in your warm, soft arms. it was as if he were being protected by some unknown force and the horrid dreams were driven away. but they were never gone always and some days his mind would recollect what occurred during the day—or even what happened years ago…

‘‘—suguru, stop—wait.’’

satoru runs through the crowd pushing past mindless civilians. they all have the same look on their face. that they have somewhere to be, and that this pesky boy pushing them was dreadfully annoying. he wouldn’t have cared. only that suguru wore the same face as them. he doesn’t know why he ran after his criminal friend. maybe he wanted an answer? or a reason on why he would leave behind everything. leave him, Y/N, shoko. he couldn’t fathom a reason on why he would do such a heinous crime—

‘‘what satoru? what’s done is done, we can’t turn back time and change it. im done trying to.’’

the world fades to black like spilled ink on parchment, his dear friend with it but sugurus purple eyes remain. a stark light in the darkness he can only hope to hold on to. but like sand it slips through his fingers and away and he curses. at himself or suguru? he doesn’t know. only that he wishes he were so much stronger. he knows he will never be.

satoru is somewhere else again. this time a familiar alley. the sun is setting the distance casting a beautiful glow. satoru has grown. he is no longer the boy he was years ago. he’s a man now and he has a family. one he can call his own and cherish and love. but now looking at the person sitting infront of him, he doesn’t feel like a man.

suguru sits on the alley flaw, clutching his now lost arm. blood is everywhere. his robe is torn to shreds leaving his chest bare and exposed but satoru can care less about that now. now he’s focused on his dying friend who he wishes to say a million things to but he doesn’t know where to start.

should he tell him he’s now married? that he’s so happy now? that he misses him? that he wishes he could come back? satoru cant bring himself to say anything.

‘‘…at least curse me a little at the end..’’ his purple eyes are twinkling in the low light and satoru realises he’s never realised how beautiful sugurus eyes were until now. how ironic in that moment he remembers you commenting on them one summer evening. saying how they were prettier than even gojos blue eyes. how they speak a million things in no words. the world slips away and all turns white for a split moment and satoru is suspended in time. he is everywhere and nowhere.

he is seeing all his memories at once rushing past him like birds in flight. he wishes to hold onto the good ones but they escape his reach.

soon he is another place again. this time it is unfamiliar. he sees you. standing in a train station, your back is turned to him but satoru can sense something is wrong. he could sense your problems a mile away no matter how hard you try to hide them. he calls your name and you turn.

slowly but surely you look at him and your eyes widen, arm stretching out to touch him. to feel him. he walks toward you, like a magnet. a bang echoed a throughout the quiet hall and it takes him so long to realise the bang is from you.

it happens so quickly satoru doesn’t even react in time. he stand frozen in his step arms reaching out to touch your saying figure, but the light has gone out in your eyes for some reason and your looking at him but your aren’t.

you fall to the ground with a loud thud and you can’t help but remind satoru of a dead body. he hopes you aren’t one but the hole in the back of your head suggests otherwise. your fingers twitch for a second and satoru holds onto the hope that you may well still be alive but it dies with you too.

he cries out, screaming your name to no avail. shaking your shoulders in an attempt to wake you up from your sleep. ‘‘—‘toru.’’ satoru is blinded by grief, his blindfold off and his blue eyes out he takes in the world with hyper awareness but it does nothing but reaffirm that your—

‘‘satoru—’’

satoru is shooting up. the covers of his bed falling to his waist revealing his bare chest to the cold but he couldn’t care less. his body is trembling and for the first time in what seems to be forever, he’s scared—

‘‘satoru, darling—its okay, I’m here.’’ yes you are. you are untouched snd unhurt. satorus six eyes confirms but the lingering feeling of believing you were dead haunts him. your arms are around him in seconds, his head now laying on your chest.

for the next few minutes, for the first in time in what seems to be forever, satoru cries. his arms wrapping around your waist he digs his head deeper into your chest, his grip turning hard but you couldn’t care less. your attention was on your husband.

for a few minutes you sit there. satoru relying on your heartbeat to keep him calm, he slowly regains his composure but the dull tremble in his limbs is still there and no matter how much he tries to breathe in and out it remains. you rub soothing circles into his back and he looks up at you from where he lays, you finally see the whites of his eyeballs have gone red from crying and the blue seems to be shining even more than usual.

‘‘’toru. wanna talk about it?’’ he shakes his head. later. you would speak about it later when he was more comfortable but now he would rest. after what happened it seems the energy has finally left his body and he yawns. despite what had just happened you can’t help but find your lover cute. sliding back under the covers, he once again wraps his arms around you. this time entangling his legs with yours. his feet are dreadfully cold. ‘‘i love you, satoru.’’ you whisper into his hair. you can practically feel his smile through your shirt.

‘‘’m love you too.’’

NANAMI KENTO was a busy man. during his time as a normal working person he didn’t encounter things he would say were, traumatising. it was only when he returned to the jujutsu world that the nightmares returned. the last time he’d ever had them were following the death of his friend, haibara.

nanami walked through the streets of Tokyo. eyes roaming the many people and shops. nothing seemed out of the ordinary. everyone was on their way either to work, school or some place else. it was the perfect day. the sun was out and the cloud was littered with bright white clouds.

summer had always been the best season in his opinion. not for the great feeling it brought or even the great weather. but the fact that it reminded him of his long gone friend. haibara. he’d died back in his jujutsu days. hat’s why when nanami stopped in the middle of a bustling crowd, eyes hooking on a familiar figure, he couldn’t believe his eyes.

haibara stood a few feet away from him. in his usual jujutsu uniform he wore all those years ago. he looks unchanged. still the young boy at school. unawares of his fate. nanami swallows the lump in his throat away and he wants to say something.

say what exactly? he thinks, say that he was sorry? for not saving him? for not finding some way to save him? for not being strong enough? he knows what happened wasn’t his fault in the slightest but survivors guilt stands strong.

haibara speaks and his voice is surprisingly the same. the passage of time brighter dulling it not evolving it with growth. it’s a haunting reminder that in-fact he is dead. he always will be.

‘‘…why didn’t you save me, nanami?' you could’ve. you should’ve.'’ yes he should’ve. no, he couldn’t. but the guilt is a never ending well and nanami has fallen down it once again and he can’t find his way out. he runs to his friend but he can’t be stopped. he falls like water to the ground and the scene switches.

this time nanami is standing infront of haibaras body. or what’s left of it at least. his friend is cut in half, a thin trail of blood leaking out of his mouth and sliding down his chin. in another world he would’ve scolded him for his mess. in another world it would’ve been drool, but the bright red is obviously blood.

the pain is a dull throb this time. he has felt this pain already before, the feeling is nothing new.

the body changes and to his shock, it becomes you. your staring at the sky, eyes dull and unresponsive. you looked beautiful. with the way your hair spilled around your shoulders like pools or maybe it’s the slight upturn of your lips that hint a smile is coming.

what were you laughing about? he wouldn’t ever know. maybe that’s why he’s calling your same, begging for an answer. begging you not to leave him like haibara. he can’t afford to lose you too. the one who’s laid claim on his once broken heart. sown together the broken fabrics of his heart. with you he felt complete. the only person since haibara who ever elicited the feeling out of him. nanami opens his eyes and he is no longer looking at your dead body.

instead he is on his bed, in his home. throwing the covers off his sweating skin, he sits on the side. head in his hands in order to calm his breathing.

minutes pass before he hears the rustling of the duvet and your warm arms wrap around him from behind. he can tell you’d just woken up from your sluggish movements

‘‘—kento.’’

you take in his slightly trembling form and all sleep leaves you. you proceed to sit next to him quiet but a reassuring figure. you don’t ask him what caused him such distress but you can guess by the way his hands hover above the scars he gained all those years ago.

nanami finally relaxes. his heart calming, he lens into your touch. featherlight and soft. it doesn’t take him long before he’s in your arms, lying on your chest and sleeping once more.

TOJI FUSHIGURO had a hard job. one many would definitely die on but he was different. and as cliché as it sounded, he was built different. for all those years he lived with the zeni’in clan he acquired a cold heart of stone.

a defense mechanism to stop himself from getting hurt. that was until he met you of course. it seemed for the first time in his life he wasn’t living on his feet all the time. he relaxed in your presence. laughed and even cracked jokes.

he didn’t know how much of a lover man he was before he met you. he thought he wasn’t capable of such love. how you turned his life around, he didnt know.

hed just come back from a mission one he’d gained a few injuries in but nothing bad. you still fretted over him. making a hassle when you saw his blood soaked shirt. he wouldn’t deny it, he did love you hassling him about his safety, it was quite endearing. you’d went to sleep not long after, toji following suite.

toji stood in a familiar house of tradition Japanese architecture. everything screamed, money, wealth and power. something the zen’in clan prided themselves on. power brought you more money and wealth in the jujutsu world, toji was no stranger to it. ‘‘—you don’t even have any cursed energy, you mistake.''

toji had not seen the members of his clan in years. their faces now blurred in his memory’s so much he believed he had gotten over what they did to him, but now their voices always made little toji stiff backed and immediately sweating.

the man behind him had white hair and a pointed moustache but his face was a blur of colour. it seemed he’d forgotten what exactly they looked like but their voices were as clear as the day.

the harsh slap through toji off his feet and to the ground with a loud thud. a few specks off blood flying out of his now bruised lip. he’d also apparently forgotten that they beat him on the regular. ‘‘—you stupid monkey. look how weak you are—cant even fight back.’’ the man’s harsh words were followed with a brutal assault of kicks. toji cursed himself, he’d never be strong enough to fight back against these demons of the zen’in clan, no matter what he did so he took the abuse. the man kicked for what felt like hours, only stopping when he was breathless and toji was bruised all over.

‘‘you should’ve died in the womb.’’

he should’ve, he thought. he should’ve died as an infant rather than face the shame of having no cursed energy. he’d never amount to anything in there eyes other than a filthy monkey. suddenly, the man became enraged. he yanked toji up by the collar of his robe, bringing him close to his blur of a face.

‘‘your no son of mine—’’

the world faded to black and toji opened his eyes to a quiet room. he wasn’t in the zen’in estate. he wasn’t in the—

he shot up. arm reaching for the knife he kept in a daw on the bedside table. unbeknownst to him, the movement stirred you from your sleep. you awoke, groggy eyed and confused, the space where toji was once sleeping was empt, him now standing by the balcony of your apartment.

‘‘toji, what happened—’’

your words cut off when you saw the glint of something sharp in his hand. a knife. he was holding a weapons, but why— had someone come? questions flew around your brain score your eyes caught the glint of clear liquid on his cheek. you pieced two and two together and came to the conclusion he’d woken from a bad dream.

sliding out of bed. you walked up to toji, making sure not to startle the tensed man before you laid a warm hand on the expanse of his back. toji still didn’t turn, his face dutifully turned away from you. to hide what you already knew, you guessed.

trailing your hand down his arm, you hovered over his rock hard grip on the handle of the knife. coaxing him to let the weapon go. it didn’t take long before the muscles relaxed and he allowed you to take it away.

you didn’t speak for a few minutes before toji turned to fully face you. dried streaks of tears on his cheeks. he wasted no time in gathering you in his arms. his head hiding in the crook of your neck. you rubbed soothing circles into his bare back and before long you guided him back to bed whispering sweet nothing into his mop of dark hair.

©SATURVUE do not copy, repost or plagiarise my work. likes and reblog sre greatly appreciated <3

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo x reader #gojo satoru angst #nanami kento x reader #nanami angst #toji x reader #toji fushiguro #toji fushigro x reader #toji angst #honkai star rail #genshin impact

427 notes · View notes

hyewka · 10 months

Text

STRICTLY PLATONIC [teaser] | choi beomgyu

SUMMARY. fucking your best friend was supposed to be a one time thing in the hopes of relinquishing feelings for your ex, but a one time turned into a weekly and cuddles after sex are way too intimate for your liking. but beomgyu insists that he’d never catch feelings for you, that he’s experienced in these types of arrangements. he still saw you as his best friend! it was totally only platonic for you too… right?

GENRE. smut, fluff, angst, college au, a hyewka fic with plot and structure.. sort of

TEASER WARNINGS. nothing explicit just some marking lol

AUTHOR NOTE. the dream fwb fic ive been wanting to write for ages so thank you to the ask i recently replied to as it was the main motivator for this 😭 this is going to be a long one so we're going the traditional route with a teaser, im opening a tag list so if you wish to be added send an ask or comment!

You’ve never seen Choi Beomgyu in a different light. That’s what you liked about him, that everything was so… constant. Your life could crash and burn but hey, Beomgyu was still Beomgyu— your friendship was a variable in your life that stayed undeniably the exact same.

You know, until you allowed him to fuck your brains out.

Even the sole fact that you have given the thought of Beomgyu being a ‘sex symbol’ has you quivering out of sheer horror— Beomgyu… has never been a sex symbol. Sure, he fucked around, and has a reputation and yeah sure, he was crazy hot when he isn’t showing signs of extreme sleep deprivation …but you’ve just never seen him in that light.

And to have let it simmer in your thoughts for longer than a second, makes you just a tinge hesitant in letting the silly goof pull you into the dancing crowd. You whine, “I’m tired Beomgyu! My heels are killing me.”

He either doesn’t hear over the blasting music or isn’t going to give it up because he pulls you in anyway, crashing your head right into his chest and you let out an instinctual ouch at the hard surface. Your eyes are wide looking up at him, sputtering out an unbelievable sentence. “Have you—have you been working out?”

His grin widens, holding up your arm to guide at feeling out his biceps. “Every now and then.” He doesn’t mind the minute it takes you to actually feel every muscle through his shirt, in fact he’s relishing in your sudden pique of interest in his body.

Whether he’s flexing them or not doesn’t show in his face—he looks completely relaxed and you finally admit—Beomgyu is getting toned.

“Why? You hate working out.” You could barely muffle those words with the way he had you engulfed in his arms, leaning his head in your neck, swaying side to side as if the song blasting was off of Taylor Swift’s Lover and not a Lil Wayne remix.

And he hasn’t even gotten a drop of alcohol yet.

But it’s true, Beomgyu hated the gym. Like, even more than you did. Which is a testament in and of itself.

He pulls away from the crook of your neck, a pout on his lips. “Didn’t you say your type was muscular men? At Halloween weekend?”

Halloween weekend was a year ago, the first frat party you managed to get into with the help of Beomgyu’s friend, Jake. You barely remember anything from it. Other than the occasional retells of the nights by Yunjin’s words, which are always a different version of the same story... so a not very credible source. “I mean, I guess they are. But what does that have to do with anything?”

“I don’t know, just saying. Jaehyun was suuper muscly.” Okay, the random mention of your ex…maybe he had some drop of alcohol.

“Are you drunk?”

“You took too long to come back, lost at beer pong.”

“How many shots?” you interrogate.

“Two.” At your suspecting glare, he continues on, “Four…five…like, at most seven.”

Your eyes bulge out, huffing out a scoff. You guys always got wasted together! Noticing the furrow of your brows he holds you tighter whining, “I know I know, sorry, I tried telling Heeseung but he’s a savage cruel man, I was practically force fed that cup.”

You don’t doubt that he attempted to persuade Heeseung but you do doubt the force feeding, it only takes a couple nudges before getting Beomgyu to drink. “I’m just slightly tipsy, not drunk yet anyway. I pledged to never ever get trashed without you. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

You slap away the hand he puts up over his chest, incredulously, losing your control over the fits of giggles when he takes your flying hand in his, taking advantage by intertwining your fingers together. “What are you doing?” your cheeks probably hurt from all the smiling, you don’t know, you think your nerves are numb.

“Can’t a guy hold his twin flame, platonic best friend’s hand?”

Skinship was not an unfamiliar with Beomgyu—he was always a naturally clingy guy. You figured when the first ever official lunch hangout you’ve had with the boy and a few of your other friends, had included a lot of random footsie.

You didn’t even know him that well in high school. Who plays footsie with an acquaintance? Choi Beomgyu, that’s who. Yet even after some reluctance that day, you end up letting him have his childish, sort of endearing fun.

Though this was all but childish, the innocently mischievous twinkle of a scrawny teenage boy had been long gone, instead replaced by the most attractive man’s hungry, lust filled gaze. “Who told you to look so sexy today?”

The theme was Angel & Devil—to match with Beomgyu, you insisted on giving him the angel outfit, and you the costume of a devil. Matching was always the fun part of these parties. “Only today?” you drawl, making an exaggerated sultry trail with your finger on his chest.

“God, shut up, you know you’re always hot,” You don’t expect the seriousness of his tone, especially when you were just teasing, but he snakes his hand around your waist, pushing you further into his body, your tits suffocatingly pressed against his chest.

You do not expect the slight squeeze to your ass, your eyes shooting particularly wide, blood rushing up to trickle your cheeks. “But I like it when you’re a little devil, makes you so sexy and alluring.”

His face buried into your neck again, this time not missing the chance of taking a deep inhale. Beomgyu could stay like this forever, filling his lungs with you, and only you. “Still can’t believe I had my hands off you for so long little devil.” Your eyes flutter shut, taking quick breaths as he moves his soft lips to your neck, wet kisses with a slip of teeth nibbling just slightly to tease, planning on coloring you with all the pretty purple hues.

And you’re sure he was well on his way until you sober up at the abrupt change in the DJ’s track.

“Beomgyu, not—not now, we’re in public.” And surrounded by tons of people that you’re either friends with or know. That broke one of the most important pillars of your agreement—to keep the fuck buddies ‘thing’ a secret.

You don’t expect the speed of his instant pull away when processing your words, blinking his pretty lashes and the tipsiness away—his doe eyes are too much of a weakness, the little furrow of his brows something you desperately want to kiss and smoothen out. “Oh. Oh yeah. Sorry.” he scratches the back of his neck, genuinely apologetic.

And eats away at you. You know Beomgyu well—he hates keeping things secret, he’s the type of person to flaunt relationships all over his feed in that lovesick puppy way that most women could only dream of having—but you weren’t dating. And that was the boundary set.

You didn’t ask him to pull away completely though, but here you were, awkwardly as distanced as you could be in the middle of a rager with sweaty college students rubbing their bodies against each other. As gross as that was, you zero’d in on something less of a given: the fact that you’ve never felt this way with Beomgyu. Ever. It was like you were starring in the most awkward coming of age indie movie, y’know, without the crazy scenery and cinematography.

And more often than not, you find that these occurance of realisations, become more and more frequent. You feel things you’ve never felt a certain way with Beomgyu. Which only brought you to realize something else; Beomgyu was now a changing variable in your life and you’re not entirely sure how to handle that.

1K notes · View notes

ghostlytide · 17 days

Text

For Business Only | One

I hope you like it ^^

Vincent Renzi x Fem! Reader----1.6K

MASTERLIST -> Next

Synopsis:

After the whirlwind affair Vincent and you shared years ago, he was sure his goodbye was definitive. A fleeting memory filled with both regret and a peculiar ache that he can’t quite place. But life wishes to scorn him once again when his newest case obliges him to seek out your help. Though this case isn’t the only complicated thing in this strictly professional relationship—not with the way his heart seems to jump at your proximity, or the already familiar tune of your voice. For all the things that had changed, would this mean your story could have a different ending now?

General Tags: Second Chance/Exes to Lovers; Slow Burn; |They were Coworkers; Denial of Feelings; Pining & Longing; Idiots in Love; Eventual Friends (?) with Benefits (?); English isn't my first language so watch out for typos;

It was a late spring night when Vincent said his goodbye to you, so it was only fair that your reencounter would occur in another.

Life played both hommage and karma at him, remembering his words: You may forever hate me, but I promise you that you'll never see me ever again. I've bothered you enough.

That night, he had regained the common sense that had slipped out his grasp since you entered the law firm as an intern; eager to learn from whoever would spare you a glance for something more than to request their thousandth cup of coffee.

Of course, he did.

And how could he not to? When you were so bright and cheerful, all the opposite from those seniors who had seen the worst, to experience who knows how many times the balanced and blind justice's weight to tip at the wrong side. To have to face the client's hopeless expression.

Of course, you'd probably be sheltered from such a dark world at your station once you reached juniorship. But that wasn't the point right now.

Just as it wasn't the point to reminisce. He felt as ashamed as it could be possible while climbing the stairs of the skyscraper, which on the inside was decorated with pieces of steel, glass, and contemporary art that combined perfectly against the simple columns and the frescoes painted in the dome of the main hall.

Vincent shouldn't be overwhelmed by the sight, but he'd never been inside the Building of the Société Générale, white marble walls against a dark mosaic creating a cube to showcase the colorful paintings hung on the walls.

The secretary at the front desk showed him the way to the elevator behind the reception, polished black walls against the metal door as Vincent felt a pull in the pit of his stomach—either for the sudden upward movement or for nervousness, he didn't wish to dwell much on it.

Walking much faster than he wanted to, the secretary passed through an empty, quiet hallway in which Vincent could read a myriad of plaques varying from Accounting Department, all the way to Human Resources.

Finally, she stopped at a door labeled as Banking Associate: Cultural Department. Calling your name, she said: "Monsieur Favrè has sent his lawyer impromptu to meet you."

A muffled voice—your muffled voice echoed in the still hallway, stirring old memories inside of him he wasn't aware of keeping in the first place. "Alright. Let him come in."

A simple nod and the woman was gone. It was only the two of you now.

He took his time, a skipping beat. At the same time, you finished writing away at your keyboard. Then the door was closed with a gentle click.

"Monsieur Delaroux, what can I do for y—" A tentative pause, your bright, smart eyes locked into his. "Vincent?"

This hadn't been the deal planned out in his mind; he was almost hoping you'd ask, with a puzzled voice, who he was as if memory could morph at will rather than being one's source of torture.

So many years passed since he heard his name coming out of your soft lips, that if he remembered quite well, would taste like mocca and vanilla. But why was he remembering that now, from all times?

"Hello," he said, an awkward smile shining in the well-lit office. He put one of his hands inside the pocket of his dress pants, suppressing the childish urge to wave.

You blinked. "What… what are you doing here?"

"I know this isn't what we agreed on," he started, using small steps to get closer to the desk, as if you were a deer likely to run off, or a lion ready to pounce. Vincent had no idea which of the two could be worse. "But I need your assistance for a case. You're the most capable person I can think of, so I had to come and ask for your help."

Reclining from your seat, he let the words simmer into you, using the little time he had to look around your office, part of him was curious to see if he could still recognize a glimpse of the old you, and what he could learn from the present.

"How did you find me?" you asked, hands gesturing from him to sit in front of your desk.

"There are not many art lawyers with your name," he said, slightly flustered he had to admit about searching your name among colleagues, prying into your life when his promise was all the contrary. It wasn't the first time he felt like a fool, yet prideful because he was here for work.

And solely for work.

"I have a case linked with a small private art collection." His voice was plain, devoid of any emotion. He wasn't Vincent right now, the man that tried not to break your heart but failed terribly; he was Maître Renzi one of the talented lawyers from the before small law firm that now was rising like smoke after every case taken. "A murder. Probably linked to the growing art stock. I need an expert in the subject to conduct the required procedures."

"Since when do you take cases about private art collectors?" you hummed, eyes almost twinkling with amusement from all those times he had shit on the upper class and their slippery ways around the judicial system.

It was a good sign that you weren't bringing up his words last spoken, the past that at this moment felt too much aflush despite the time trying to bury it.

"This one is an exception." He couldn't help but get defensive, feeling like a stupid teenage boy being teased despite you being quite some years younger than him. "The owner of the law firm assigned me this case directly. We need to win so the firm can have an expansion." Which meant more law specialties, and more hired lawyers. And then it was… "They're even considering putting an Art Law department."

You could join, he almost said foolishly. Why would you like to be coworkers with him again, when that exact professional relationship prompted all the rest?

You seemed to be thinking the same. "It'll pay well," he added before you could say anything that derailed from his sketched conversation. "And it can help with your curriculum." Vincent signaled to the plaque in front of your computer, reading Junior Consultant. "It could be the case that turns you into a Senior."

There it was the ghost of you, biting your bottom lip in a pondering manner while your gaze was glued to the empty seat next to him.

"What makes you think you're going to win?"

"Have some faith in me, will you?" He chuckled, though deep inside he knew what you meant. It was a question that always lingered at the bottom of his mind, the one that stole his sleep some nights.

"Vincent—"

"Trust me. This is a high-profile case, very important for all people involved. I need your help. I know you're the only person that can help me." He couldn't make another empty promise. To never see you again? Vincent just broke it, and the opposite of that, to be partnered with you as colleagues didn't sound appropriate either. "You're the only one I can trust to remain on my side even if everything goes to shit," Vincent muttered after a while, blue eyes searching for yours as he tried to convince you with pity, even. Because you could never say no to him, and because this case was obliged to use all the desperate, creative measures he could think of.

Though Vincent wasn't lying about said statement. And you knew it.

You looked at him in a long, silent gaze that felt strangely, annoyingly charged inside the medium-sized office, silent so thick he heard the moment you chortled, a breathy, contained laugh that blessed him with the tiniest of smiles.

"Send me the generalities of the case so I can give it a glance tomorrow and write the protocol to follow."

"If tomorrow is one of your free days, we can discuss it over lunch," Vincent found himself saying before his brain could tell him to do better. "I'll give you a printed copy of everything so you can revise it easier. I apologize, but due to the nature of this case, I don't find myself comfortable with sharing this information via remote."

You put away the pencil you were playing with, settling it against the wooden desk with a thunk. "Breakfast. Tomorrow at 9 AM meet me at the Fontaine Saint-Sulpice. We can go to a nearby café once there." Looking from your computer to him, you arched an eyebrow. "Something else you need? You should go before the receptionist notices that you aren't Monsieur Favrè's lawyer."

He shrugged. "I showed her my card, she didn't say anything."

"Well, I'm not allowed to take private clients while on my shift."

"I'm not a client, we're colleagues."

You gestured away. "Wording. You know what I mean."

"You're a lawyer, Mademoiselle, wording matters."

"I write contracts and track art exhibits, Vincent," you told him in a familiar tone he recognized from when you two engaged in a well-needed, unwinding banter. "The one asked to give speeches is you, not me."

"Well, then you better prepare for an exception, because you will have to declare at court about your findings." Vincent heard your sigh and took in the sight of your angry pout, one you dedicated at him when it was time to get out of his office and help other junior lawyers while on your time as an intern. He was surprised to find it as charming as it once was. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

He stood up, torn between walking facing you or just striding toward the door. He did the last one, turning to smile at you while his hand tapped to feel the door's handle.

It was his time to call your name. "Thank you. Truly."

You nodded, one of the locks of your hair falling toward your brow, obscuring your view. "I'll see you tomorrow, Vincent."

#vincent renzi x reader #vincent renzi #vincent renzi fanfiction #anatomy of a fall fanfiction #swann arlaud x reader

96 notes · View notes

spacebarbarianweird · 6 months

Text

How dare you?!

Synopsis: years after Tav's death, Astarion manages to become mortal again. But sometimes good things happen too late. It was definetely inspired by this quote from "The Last Unicorn"

"I am here now," she said at last. Molly laughed with her lips flat. "And what good is it to me that you're here now? Where where you twenty years ago, ten years ago? How dare you, how dare you come to me now, when I am this?" With a flap of her hand she summed herself up: barren face, desert eyes, and yellowing heart. "I wish you had never come. Why did you come now?" The tears began to slide down the sides of her nose.

Tags: angst Since Tav is already dead, I decided to make them gender neutral (hope I didn't mess up the grammar). Astarion mentions them (of course) all the time. Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Drinking other people's blood feels like an utter betrayal.

The outlaw lunges at Astarion, a glinting knife in hand. The vampire responds with a sinister grin, savoring how terror swiftly supplants the bandit's initial rage.

"Vampire! Kill him, you idiots!"

But the bandit's final words dissolve into a chilling shriek as Astarion plunges his fangs into the man's throat, drawing a deep draught of human blood. It's a flavor reminiscent of cheap alcohol, perhaps a testament to the bandit's fondness for rum. The pungent odor and the taste of his sweat turn Astarion's stomach.

However, as the blood courses through the vampire's veins, its transformative power takes hold. The hunger begins to recede, replaced by a surge of strength. His senses sharpen, and Astarion can practically savor the impending wave of fear from the group of thugs at the cave entrance.

"Please," the man stammers weakly, his voice trembling and feeble with each passing moment, "Don't kill me —"

Astarion releases the wounded thug, and the man collapses to the cave floor. The vampire lowers himself in front of the man, idly toying with a dagger, his tongue touching the tips of the fangs.

"Tell your henchmen to flee," he purred. "Run, and don't ever dare to glance back."

Astarion straightens his posture and gazes toward the two thugs.

Dumb idiots, he thinks. They could quickly kill him. But they are so afraid of the undead creature they won't dare.

Astarion wipes his mouth as the wounded outlaw staggers away in retreat. Deep down, Astarion wants to vomit. He thinks he should return to sating the thirst with animal blood—bears, wolves, boars—anything but sentient beings.

He can't drink blood, which doesn't belong to Tav. Tav allowed him to feed on them for years. Whose blood tasted like heaven, whose touches were so sweet and caring. Years after they are gone, Astarion can still feel their gentle caress.

And the coldness of their body when life left it.

He cried, he begged, he cursed. It couldn't have been so soon, not like that. They were supposed to live at least a few decades more together. Astarion remembers the nights on the grave when he contemplated if he should stay there till sunrise and turn into ashes.

He didn't stay because he promised to keep living.

Living, he chuckles. It's not life. He is undead. He died many years ago at the age of thirty-nine. His heart doesn't beat. His skin is cold and pale. His eyes are red, and all the food tastes like paper and vinegar.

Tav believed there was a cure for vampirism. They thought Astarion's dead heart could beat again. Astarion didn't care. He was happy with his lover by his side. Living with them, sleeping, cuddling, having sex, drinking their blood. Talking, holding hands, reading books, helping people, fighting monsters. Astarion never cared what to do – if it involved Tav, he didn't need to be asked twice. He didn't need to be asked, but they never crossed boundaries, always making sure he was all right with their plans.

Can I kiss you? Can I hug you? Can I touch your pointy ears? Do you want to go and help these people? Can I help you with your wounds? What do you mean, "no"? Listen, I am not looking at you bleeding and suffering – sit!

Their voice is so real as they were still there, with him. He hates concentrating on these memories because he hears the sound of a broken spine when he does. And sees the loving eyes gliding over his face.

Astarion will never forget the moment when Tav's heart stopped beating.

Astarion's crimson eyes dart around, attempting to focus on the present moment, a challenge for a creature like him. He's aware that making friends or seeking a new lover is a distant dream, a notion that feels like blasphemy. There's no home, no sanctuary, only a nomadic existence along the nocturnal roads, finding refuge in caves and abandoned houses to evade the relentless sunlight.

As he ventures deeper into the cave, he stumbles upon the object of his quest—a chained older man in a wizard's robe.

"And who in hells are you?" the man inquires.

"I've been hired to save you from the thugs, and I expect a generous reward for my troubles," Astarion grins as he unlocks the handcuffs.

The wizard, now unshackled, examines Astarion curiously. "Are you a vampire? Gods, it's very unusual for your kind to play a hero."

"I am," Astarion responds. "And I don't."

The wizard muses, "I recognize good people when I see them. Good elf vampires, I suppose, in your case. Quite peculiar. How long have you been like this?"

Astarion shrugs. "A few centuries. Hurry up, old man. It's sunrise soon."

The wizard chuckles. "Old man? I'm only sixty, my friend. Let's make haste; my home isn't far from here."

"May I ask you some questions?" he inquires. "I've never had the opportunity to converse with someone of your kind."

"I'll answer if I find the questions agreeable," Astarion replies

Their conversation flows easily, delving into topics like feeding the transformation into vampirism. Engaging with a sentient being who listens is refreshing, and Astarion relishes the opportunity to share his experiences.

"You remind me of my friend, Gale of Waterdeep," Astarion finally says, looking at the horizon getting pink.

"You did know Gale of Waterdeep?"

Astarion nods. "I wonder where he is right now."

"He died twenty years ago, Astarion. Lived a very long life for a human," the wizard replies, his words sending a shiver down Astarion's spine. Another person he knows is gone. It's been so many years that he's lost count.

The two continue the journey in silence, eventually arriving at the wizard's house. The wizard ushers him inside.

"What are you waiting for? It's almost sunrise," he remarks.

Astarion hesitates for a moment. "I can't enter unless you invite me."

The wizard chuckles. "Oh, of course, I forgot. Come in. You are very welcome to stay until dark. Wait for me here. I will return soon."

Astarion steps over the threshold and watches as the first rays of sunlight wash over the fields and the surrounding forest, feeling a strange mix of longing and melancholy as he observes the world he can never fully embrace.

When Tav was alive, he often urged them to venture outside on such mornings. They would stand there, basking in the warm embrace of sunlight. Astarion couldn't tear his gaze away from Tav. After a few minutes, his lover would return inside, and Astarion would gently press his palms to their radiant skin, yearning to feel the sun's warmth that had touched them.

The ache is still there. Astarion misses Tav profoundly, a pain that persists no matter how many years have passed or how many more will come. They were the first and only person he truly loved. They were the first and only person who loved him.

He remembers how Tav would cup his face with their hands. "What are you looking at?" he sometimes would ask, and Tav would laugh in response. "I wonder what eye color you had. Blue? No, I don't think so. Hazel? Doubt. I know! They were green. They were green like a pair of emeralds." Then, Tav would kiss his forehead. "But I guess we will never know."

"Astarion, I want to reward you for saving me," the wizard declares as he returns to the dining room, holding a black magic scroll. "You sound like a good person, a really good person..."

"Just pay me, and we're even. I enjoyed talking to you."

The wizard, however, opened a black scroll and began reciting an incantation. Before Astarion can react, a dark wave crashes over him, hurling him to the floor and pinning him to the wooden boards.

"I'm sorry," the wizard says, his voice muffled as if behind a thick wall. "I fear this might be painful."

"What in hell have you done to me?!" Astarion attempts to shout, but an invisible grip tightens around his throat, choking the words.

His body withers and wraps. Astarion wants to scream, but his mouth stays shut. His body doesn't belong to him in this painful moment. It hurts. It hurts the same way centuries ago when he was lying in his coffin six feet deep under the ground.

The stomach turns inside out, and Astarion vomits the thug's blood he drank earlier. The lungs are rupturing, causing pain in the rib cage.

Then the skin starts burning. He scratches it with his nails as if trying to flay himself. He feels how his bones break and fuse. Or is it just his imagination? By this time, he can't say.

He was through so much torment and pain during the centuries of enslavement. He thought it couldn't be worse.

It absolutely could.

Astarion presses his hands to the chest. The dead heart weighs like a tombstone. He wants to rip it out.

Thump

The first heartbeat crashes through Astarion like a hammer blow in the Adamantine Forge, resounding loudly and painfully.

Astarion finds himself on his knees, utterly shocked. The wizard sits at the table, regarding him with a condescending gaze.

It's then that Astarion notices someone else in the room. He springs to his feet, prepared to confront this stranger, but the wizard laughs.

"It's just your reflection, my friend," the wizard says. "I think you've long forgotten how you look, hmm?"

Astarion stands upright and shifts his gaze to the mirror. There, he sees a young, silver-haired elf staring back at him.

"Shocked, aren't you?" the wizard chuckles.

Astarion approaches the mirror, studying the stranger. Silver curls, the attire of an adventurer, and scars from a vampire's bite on the left side of his neck. But it's the eyes that captivate him—the eyes are emerald green.

Just like Tav said.

He shifts his attention to his hands, noting that the skin is no longer pale. The feeling of a beating heart and an empty stomach churn within him. The fangs are gone, replaced by regular teeth.

"Congratulations, my friend," the wizard declares. "You are no longer a vampire. I wasn't entirely certain if the scroll would work, but here we are. You are mortal again. It's a small price for saving me."

Astarion's legs give way, and he collapses to the wooden floor again, tears streaming down his face, a maelstrom of emotions threatening to consume him.

"Where were you?!" he yells at the top of his lungs. "Where were you twenty years ago? Where were you thirty years ago? Where were you when I had hope?!" Astarion jumps on his feet and clutches the wizard's robe, making the old man stand as well. "How dare you, how dare you resurrect me now?!"

"I- I reversed your curse," the wizard stumbles, scared of the young elf.

"You reversed," Astarion laughs bitterly. "Of course you did! I wish I never agreed on rescuing you."

"But you are alive! You are a living creature, not an undead monster-"

"And what am I supposed to do?" Astarion's laughter takes on a manic tone. "Mortality—you can't even imagine how I dreamt of it. How Tav dreamt of it. But... they are gone," he sniffs. "I buried them with these hands. Where were you... Where were you when Tav was alive?"

The wizard, still taken aback, steps back, fearing another outburst.

"Then—then live. Enjoy your new life," the wizard stammers.

"I don't know how! I don't know how to live! You, cursed old man, what have you done?"

"Get out," the wizard mutters. "Get out, ungrateful bastard."

Astarion makes a short, bitter laugh. He feels lightheaded and dizzy. His chest is too cramped for the newly awakened heart, his skin burns, and the blood races through his veins too fast.

Stumbling like a drunkard, Astarion exits the house. The sunlight feels like the soft touch of cat fur on his fingertips.

Squinting, he gazes up at the sun, tears streaming down his face, and he doesn't bother to wipe them away.

Astarion's heart was beating fast, and he had no idea what to do.

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #bg3 #astarion romance #astarion fic #astarion x tav #astarion x gn!tav #astarion fics #astarion angst #ressurrected astarion #Sometimes good things happen too late #spacebarbarian fics

218 notes · View notes

chaoticbardlady99 · 5 months

Text

She’s My Religion (Part 2: She Needs This Love Just as Much as Me) Astarion x F! Reader

Author note- totally not sure how I feel about this, but here we go! I hope someone enjoys this lmao.

I’m really tired and so this has been edited once and I’ll add the link for part 1 later. If you asked to be on my tag list- I am going to be adding you tomorrow simply because I can barely keep my eyes open right now.

CW: Domestic violence, physical abuse, emotional abuse, mentions of torture, violence, angst.

Picture does not belong to me and is not mine. I cannot for the life of me remember where I got it so I apologize in advance.

“You’ve been doing WHAT!?”

Astarion sits staring at the forest with his head hung with guilt and shame. Shadowheart sounds furious with him and admittedly, Astarion is also raving mad at himself.

Astarion miscalculated terribly- his plan was completely, utterly doomed from the start. Shadowheart is pacing back and forth in front of him- reading him the right act.

Astarion is zoning out as Shadowheart goes on and on saying all the things he’s already said to himself- he begins to drift to the first time he had ever met you about three years ago.

Astarion had been in solitary confinement for what had felt like forever when Cazador let him out. It was probably the only time Cazador had looked somewhat close to nervous with some sick twisted affection behind his eyes. He simply told Astarion he was to accompany you around the grounds and that you needed to be treated with respect. Your step-father did not want you to be present after dinner.

“You are allowed to take her to do what she wants- within reason. Do not let her leave the mansion grounds and make sure she is content,” Cazador said stiffly, “I am trusting you, boy. You know the consequences if you step out of line.”

Later, before you had arrived, Dalyria had made him privy to you and your… temperaments. Astarion relished in knowing you made a fool out of Petras. Someone needed to give the prick a wake up call.

It was also, supposedly, no secret to anyone in your family that you are the one Cazador wishes to marry, but due to your lack of royal blood, it would ruin his alliance with the Von family entirely. So Cazador is stuck with a woman named Daisy Von (who he cannot stand) and Astarion felt like it was the perfect karma for Cazador- the one time he wants something or someone, he absolutely cannot have it.

You were (still are) wildly different from your obnoxious step-sisters and step-brothers.

“Wild.”

“Rebellious.”

“Boorish.”

“Trouble maker.”

It was all this annoying group of people could seem to talk about- how terrible and horrible you were. What a disappointment. What a nuisance.

Dalyria told him beforehand that this was the norm and that it really only gets more embarrassing for them every time. You were kind, headstrong, ambitious, and beautiful according to Dalyria- when she had stepped in for Petras that night at the last minute, you had treated her like a person. You had asked her about herself, engaged in her hobbies by asking questions, and you had made a point of showing her all the medical books in Bridril Von’s library (you even let her take one, Bridril never goes in the library). Astarion had just stared at her in disbelief- she had to be playing a trick on him.

You stood on the farthest end next to the youngest girl and Bridril had scowled so aggressively, Astarion thought his face may cave in on itself. You are far more captivating than any of Bridril’s children could ever wish to be. No wonder Cazador wants you so badly that he’s willing to do anything to make sure you come over with them or that you show up for dinner at your own home- undeterred by the inability to actually make a proposal for your hand.

You looked positively irritated everytime Daisy opened her mouth and he was too. The woman is dense and over-the-top. Dinner had been awkward and you had barely even touched your food, but drank three goblets of wine- every time Bridril leered at you for getting another glass, a sly smirk would cross your lips. Your own silent rebellion.

Your demeanor and attitude resembled that of a bird trapped in a cage- wings clipped and feathers plucked. It made Astarion feel bitter- in what world were you trapped? You get to live in a nice mansion and go to dinner parties in nice clothes- Astarion just woke up in a TOMB after being in there for WEEKS. How dare a pampered princess such as yourself pretend that you are provided with anything less than perfection.

His bitterness (and biases) hadn’t lasted very long- it lasted for about 5 parties. Your relationship started out with a lot of bickering and miscommunication. Both of your words towards each other were passively laced with venom, but you never complained so he kept being assigned to you. It was never an option really either. Cazador insisted you be a part of every dinner despite Bridril’s grumbling.

The 6th meeting had changed everything. You had not arrived for the party your step-father was throwing and Bridril told Cazador that you were sick before hurriedly rushing off to talk to a local Magistrate. Cazador, naturally, wasn’t satisfied with this explanation so he had sent Astarion to find you.

Astarion had found you sleeping- bloody, battered, and bruised in your bedroom. There was a thick black banded bruise on your neck. The walls were empty, there was only a bedroll in the corner, and the book you had been reading the last time he was there was destroyed and in tatters on the floor. You had woken up when he accidentally slammed the door out of rage and you had looked around disoriented, but skittish and alert all the same. Your eyes softened when you realized it was just him.

You told him you had lost a competition because you hadn’t been sleeping well- too many bad dreams. Bridril had been so embarrassed that he had beaten you for the last several hours before- completely forgetting the mass amount of guests that he had invited to his home that evening. You weren’t allowed to leave your room. Astarion had been wrong. You were a trapped bird in a cage.

It was the one and only time Astarion ever willingly went to Cazador and told him what he had witnessed. You never had a scratch on you again at any future gatherings, but you always looked more tired than the time before. Bridril would boast about all the competitions you had won over the last month- Archery, jousting, mock combats, javelin throwing, etc, etc, etc. The list went on and on- you looked closer and closer to vomiting or keeling over from exhaustion with every activity he named. Life returned to your eyes when you and Astarion went off to dick around.

Escorting you around the Crimson Palace or around the Mansion quickly became his favorite part of those stupid dinner parties or any of the events Cazador threw or went to. You are complex and didn’t grow up in nobility. You despised it, but you were stuck because Bridril had enchanted your mother. You told him she breaks sometimes, but you rarely recognize the woman that pretends to be her nowadays.

You admitted to Astarion you thought he was a pompous bastard when you first met, but he is pretty so you let it slide. Astarion told you that he thought you were a spoiled brat, but because YOU were pretty, he also let it slide.

You had smiled at him, “I guess we are both wrong.”

“But not about being pretty.”

“Oh most certainly not.”

One evening, the two of you had had ‘too much’ fun according to Cazador. You had snuck him into the library and you had sat reading for the entire 6 hour affair. You had asked if it was okay if you sat near him and that eventually led to you leaninging against each other. Astarion had felt like he had been physically, painfully ripped from you when it was time to go. You had kissed Astarion on the cheek before he left and he kissed your hand. Cazador had flayed Astarion for that one night.

Astarion had felt some guilt regarding his resentment toward you after the incident. He knew he wasn’t helping his own situation by giving into your whims and your touch.

If Astarion didn’t know any better, he would think Cazador loved you, but he learned quickly that Cazador’s “affection” for you comes from a place of obsession and possessiveness. You looked like a previous lover of his from a lifetime that Astarion knew very little about. You were different from this woman, but it was not unwelcome in Cazador’s eyes- he has always liked a challenge. He could make you submit.

Cazador had wanted to send someone else to be your escort after you had begun to show an interest in Astarion- this was quickly squashed when you looked like you were going to light Cazador and his entire world on fire if he dared to volunteer another person. He had brought Leon, Astarion, and Dalyria and when Cazador volunteered Leon- you simply said, “No, I want Astarion.”

Cazador was infuriated, but he wanted- no needed you to be happy and to like him. Cazador had told Pale Petras that if he could win your favor, he was sure you’d just willingly come to him and ask to be his consort. Daisy could be thrown out entirely and maybe he’ll have negotiating room. The thought had made Astarion’s stomach turn- he wouldn’t be able to bare watching you become a lifeless consort under Cazador.

However, he always pushed those thoughts away when he was around you so he could stay in a good mood. You would flirt back and forth with Astarion, talk about irrelevant bullshit from the week, the gossip around the mansion, and you both mimicked and complained about how pathetic it was to watch Daisy grovel at Cazador’s feet- a lamb to the slaughter. You referred to the slaughter as being marriage, he referred to the slaughter as Cazador.

It had been a wonderful year of Daisy entirely failing at keeping Cazador’s attention, but she was determined and Astarion admittedly hoped that you may remain a consistent part of his life- the tiniest ray of light to look forward to once or twice a month. And if Cazador marries Daisy? Well, Astarion may never have to be that far away from you permanently.

Then, one night at a party, he had been in the Von mansion’s dining room- Cazador had instructed him to find you. He eventually gave up after he couldn’t and figured you would come to him eventually. Astarion was right, but not in the way he had originally hoped.

You had snuck into the second floor dining area and you locked it behind you. Astarion had been relieved to be in your presence again, but the state you were in… His relief was swallowed up when he had seen how bruised and beaten up you looked. Astarion had surprised you by his presence and you surprised him with your plan. You were escaping and instead of stopping you like a very massive part wanted him too- in spite of Cazador’s command to keep you from leaving the property having been shoved down Astarion’s throat, Astarion helped you tie the rope to propel down the side of the building.

Astarion can still remember the earnest look you’d given him- the way you begged him to leave with you. Gods he wanted to. Astarion remembered all the days that followed after where he kicked himself for not being selfish, but for whatever reason, he didn’t want there to be any way for you to be caught. Astarion knew if he went with you, neither one of you would ever get to know what it means to be free. Cazador would be able to find you through Astarion.

Astarion had told you “no”, struggled to get you to understand between tears, but then you promised him that you would be back. You would kill Cazador and he would be free- you just need him to wait for you. You didn’t know Cazador was a Vampire Lord at the time, but he still believed you. You said give you at least four years- you need time to prepare. He agreed.

Astarion never forgot your promise, clinging to it like a divine wish. There were only 2 more years left- then the Mindflayers kidnapped him.

Astarion had never felt more angry or defeated in his whole life. Astarion would have been free, but now he’s going to turn into a Mindflayer of all things.

Except it had been the best stroke of luck he’d ever had. You were there! In front of him after two years! Your softer noble appearance has been replaced with a scar that shows you dodged just in time to not lose an eye, an Oath of Vengeance sigil plastered to your chest, piercings along your ears, and a large beholder tattoo on your neck. Still beautiful, just far more authentic.

Astarion knows his initial plan to seduce you, sleep with you, and manipulate your feelings was a fucked up one-especially because he knew having you in every way would destroy Cazador without thinking of how it would make you feel. Astarion also acknowledged that a part of him had been doing all this for his own selfish pleasure- no one was in the way of keeping you from getting closer and Astarion didn’t want to have to share your affections with others in camp. And besides, he had been there first.

Oh and Astarion took every advantage of having you to himself. Talking to you, making you laugh, kissing you, being entangled with you while you sleep, drinking from you- fucking you until you only smell of him, leaving bite marks to show you are Astarion’s only.

What Astarion hadn’t anticipated was how much he would also want to be yours. He had been pushing down the feeling for a long time and he always brushed off Shadowheart’s puppy love jokes. Astarion was not smitten with you- he merely knows you and that’s why it’s all so easy. You had shown him simple kindness and you had a history together- you were the obvious choice to go to for protection.

Then the fight with Yurgir happened and Astarion watched you die.

The battle had been hard- brutal even for Astarion’s standards- and the constant bombs being dropped wasn’t helping the situation.

You were up top with Karlach, facing Yurgir head on while Shadowheart and himself tried to pick off the other attackers going after you both.

It had felt like hours, but in reality, what happened next lasted mere seconds.

Yurgir had made you and Karlach lose your balance, but Yurgir was focused on you. Astarion watched in despair as you were flung into the wall, crashing to the ground with a pained scream, a sickening crack, then nothing but blood pouring out of your head. Suddenly, a bomb exploded above you, the rocks began to pour down from the ceiling, and buried you.

The screams that had erupted from Karlach and Shadowheart had snapped him into action. Astarion didn’t remember the rest of the battle, just that it had been a bloodthirsty blur and now he, Karlach, and Shadowheart were clearing the rubble. Astarion had been the one to find you and your face was a bit bruised, the back of your head still seeping with blood, but you looked so peaceful and your skin was so so cold.

When you were completely uncovered, it was evident that you were dead- that this was a job for Withers or a scroll of revivify. Your neck was snapped in half, your limbs were broken- some even shattered. Shadowheart was able to heal and reset your neck so that the whole ordeal was slightly less grotesque. After, he had cradled you in his arms until Karlach and Shadowheart were sure there were no enemies between themselves and the exit.

Astarion had refused to let Karlach take you, holding your broken form against him as his silent tears spilled onto your hushed expression.

You had thankfully not been beyond the point of no return, but Astarion had realized that he needed to have a conversation with you. You are more than an upper hand to him, more than someone fun to tumble around with in his tent- you have somehow become his reason for going forward. Astarion had resigned himself to dying if you weren’t able to be revived. The thought had surprised him after wanting to be free for so long, but would his freedom be worth having if he couldn’t spend it with you? Astarion would rather take his chances and hope you end up together in the same afterlife.

That is what has led him and Shadowheart to having this conversation. Astarion wants to ask you to be something real to each other. Shadowheart had initially been confused, stating that you had “always been real?”, then he told her everything.

Whenever you left Astarion behind, he’d pass the time getting drunk with Shadowheart (if she was left behind). The last time, she had to ask Astarion if his entire conversation catalog is just about you because you were brought up every other word- he had felt incredibly embarrassed, so much so that he had gotten up and hid in his tent.

“Astarion- you never shut up about her, you’ve been following her around like a lost dog since day one- Hells you looked halfway to smitten on the DAMN BEACH!” Shadowheart says with a shrill voice, “What do you mean the entire time up until yesterday that it was all a lie!?”

“It wasn't yesterday only, my favorite wine drunk Sharran” Astarion stated matter-of-factly, “I just… didn’t want to acknowledge that I wanted more. After I first met her, I didn’t see her again for two years- it was bearable, but that had come with the promise of her coming back. She almost didn’t yesterday and I realized that, even after this is all said and done, I don't ever want her to go away. In any capacity.”

Shadowheart shook her head at him, “She’s going to be furious. Heartbroken even.”

“I know,” Astarion says thickly, “but I’m hoping she will forgive me or at least let me prove to her that I’m serious about us.”

You weren’t due back for at least another hour so they had begun working on the speech immediately.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Whatever we are,” you are glaring at him, your voice coated in venom, “or whatever you were pretending I was to you- it’s over.”

No. No. No. NO!

Astarion didn’t think it was possible for his heart to feel like it’s been shattered since it barely beats at all.

It’s over?

It can’t be over! It’s barely begun and you only have half of the story. Astarion knows you’ll listen- you’ll see sense. You have to… right?

“Darling, pl-”

“No! I hate you so much!,” you sob into your hands, his whole body hurts looking at you, “I hate you more than I thought I could ever hate anyone- undead, dead, or alive! I trusted you and you used me for your own gain- so unkindly, go fuck yourself!”

Astarion wants to grab you as you turn around and walk away. He wants to get down on his knees and plead to you- pray to you until you don’t leave him- that you take it back. You’ll give him a chance, even if he loses privileges like getting to hold your hand, cuddle with you at night, or even kiss you for a while, that would be far more bearable than losing you altogether.

Astarion falls to his knees, ruptured and humbled.

“Astarion,” Shadowheart says softly, squatting down in front of him, “it will be okay. She’ll forgive you. She just needs a second, okay? You knew and I knew that this was a toss up to begin with.”

Astarion nodded numbly and got to his feet. Shadowheart gives him a squeeze on the shoulder before going into her own tent and Astarion briskly begins to walk back to his. He makes eye contact with you as Wyll enters your tent and the look on your face when you saw him makes this whole nightmare all too real.

Once he secures the tent flaps, Astarion crawls onto his bedroll and lets the sadness consume him while being surrounded by your scent. This may be one of the worst days he’s ever had in the last 200 years- at least from what he can remember.

If Astarion wasn’t so afraid for your safety, he would have packed up all of his things and headed back to Cazador with his tail between his legs, but he can’t because all that does is put you in danger.

Astarion slowly peels himself off the bed roll and hugs his knees to his chest. He lets himself stare off into nowhere as he lets himself be consumed with the agony and vexation- it’s not like there is any wildlife to go take out his pain on.

Astarion gets up and rolls his shoulders. As much as he wants you, you are done with him and he needs to respect that. Astarion decides he’ll leave you alone, but remain in the background. He’ll stay until you tell him to leave and never return. It will hurt so terribly to not be near you like he was, but he’ll just have to be grateful for the time he did have- the time he took for granted.

Astarion begins to get ready for the long night ahead of him when an open letter on one of his books catches his attention.

It’s addressed to you, torn open and stained with tears. Astarion opens the envelope. He reads the note so many times he feels like he may go on a homicidal rampage. Not only was your mother dead, likely at the hands of your step-father, you are officially considered engaged to be married to Cazador fucking Szarr.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Astarion had waited until morning to try to talk to you again-giving up on leaving you alone. He knows that you have a very long cool down period when your feelings are hurt (he has made this mistake less severely in the recent past). If there is any hope of you hearing Astarion out- it would be today.

Except you had already left with Karlach, Gale, and Lae’zel by the time he has finally built up the courage to leave his tent.

Astarion spent the day with Shadowheart and actually attempted to help with camp chores. Astarion bounced ideas off of her, but he didn’t tell her about the note. It felt like that was information for you to share if you wanted and you probably hadn’t intended on him learning about this information in the first place.

Shadowheart looks at him after awhile, a troubled look on her face. Shadowheart turns towards Wyll.

“Hey Wyll, they should have been back by now right?”

Wyll walks over to Shadowheart and Astarion with the same troubled expression.

“Yes, it was just a quick supply run to Last Light Inn before we take a day to recooperate,” Wyll says slowly, “I’m wondering what has held them up this long…”

Their pondering and questions were quickly interrupted by the sound of foot steps racing towards them.

“SHADOWHEART! HALSIN!”

You and Karlach were screaming their names in unison. Karlach is supporting Lae’zel and Gale is slack against you as you fight to keep him upright. The usually wonderful smell of your blood is now making him ill as you come closer to camp.

Across your sides were long, bloody scratch marks- in fact, there are claw marks all along your arms and your armor. One side of your face has a superficial scratch. Karlach appears to be in better shape, but just as scratched up nonetheless.

“We- we were ambushed by an Absolute Cultist,” Karlach exclaims breathily, “a Fist named Marcus. He was trying to bring Isobel back to Ketheric.”

Astarion watches as you help lay Gale down near Halsin and Shadowheart so they can begin to get to work, Lae’zel being laid down next to him. Shadowheart catches your wrist with her hand and gives you a Superior Healing Potion- the soft smile you offer her makes Astarion think he may have a chance.

Astarion walks back towards his tent and toys with the letter on the counter. Does he bring it up? Does he just bring it back to you and not acknowledge it? What would you even want him to do?

The noise outside had diminished as Lae’zel and Gale were recovered enough to be moved and healed in their individual tents- Shadowheart healing Gale and Halsin healing Lae’zel. It must be an early night for everyone. Astarion takes a deep breath and opens his tent flap, ready to confront you- but it looks like he didn’t have to travel very far to confront you.

There you are, cleaned up now, standing in front of Astarion’s tent looking nervous and heartbroken. In his shock, Astarion offers you his hand and gently pulls you inside, closing the flaps behind you.

“What did I do?” you blurt out, tears streaming down your face as fast as words are coming out of your mouth, “I can be useful again. I can do whatever you need me to- be whoever you need me to be.”

You take a jagged, heart wrenching inhale and he can hear you fighting the lump in your throat.

“I can’t do this alone- I just can’t,” you sob and look down at your feet, “I know what I said. I know I’m a fool for crawling back here begging you to keep pretending, but please. I can be what you need me to be, I promise. I’ll be- perfect for you. Please.”

Astarion bridges the gap between the two of you and puts your face between his hands, guiding your melancholy eyes to his.

“Darling, you have always been perfect. I have never needed you to be anything more or less than what you are. You are a Godsend.”

“Then why?” you whisper, “Why would you practice breaking up with me? What did I do?”

Astarion sits there and looks at you with bewilderment- practicing breaking up with you? He was practicing trying to ask to be with you!

He chuckles despite the tears that are slowly spilling from his eyes, “You insult me, my Love. I have no issues with breaking up with people- I think. Never really had the chance and I had no desire to end our relationship yesterday.”

You look at him with regret and guilt in your eyes. You go to move away from him- evidently worried about him rejecting you and hurting you. He moves with you, not letting you go anywhere and he kisses your forehead, one of his hands moving to the small of your back while the other remains on your cheek.

“What I was trying to tell you, my Dear,” Astarion softly whispers, “is that, regardless of my original intentions, my plan failed terribly.”

“How so?” you whisper in return.

“It was all so simple- seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me. It was easy- instinctive. 200 years of instinct had kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it and all I had to do was not fall for you.”

Astarion traces your bottom lip with his thumb, pulling you into him by pressing into the small of your back. You gasp gently at the contact.

“And that is where my nice simple plan fell apart,” he says woefully, “you’re incredible. You deserve something real. I want us to be something real.”

Your eyes search his face for any signs of ingenuity or deception.

“I do too, more than anything,” you say breathlessly, “but what about everything I said yesterday? Everything I said was terrible.”

“It was,” he ponders, then he says teasingly “if my feelings weren’t so hurt and if I wasn’t the one on the receiving end- I dare say I would have been proud of you.”

“Well I learned my dramatics from the best after all.”

“I didn’t know Wyll was such a great teacher- I’ll have to ask him for tips some time,” he quips.

Your laugh lifts the painful fog that has been smothering him in his tent for the last day. Astarion pulls you down with him into his bedroll, you curl up around him and he spreads the blanket out. You lay your head on his chest and he pulls you into him tightly- inhaling your scent and savoring the thrumming of your pulse underneath his finger nails.

“Those nights when we were together,” you ask, peering up at him with worry, “did they not mean anything to you then?”

Astarion freezes before he releases a deep sigh. This may be the part where you change your mind and he is mentally preparing for it- taking account of the way you feel against him just in case this is truly the last time.

“I don’t know what real looks like,” he confesses, “being close to anyone-any kind of intimacy- was something I performed to lure people back for him.”

He feels you flinch at the mention of Cazador.

“Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels… tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust and loathing. I don’t know how to be with someone- no matter how much I’d like to.”

“I care about you deeply- we can be together without having sex for however long you need,” you pause, “you are so much more to me than sex and I adore you for so much more than just your body.”

“Really?” the shock in his voice is blatant.

“Really,” you say with a smile before laying your head back on his chest.

“I don’t know what we’re doing,” he says giddily, running his hands through your hair, “ but I know that this, this is nice.”

You hum in agreement and he draws circles on your back. Astarion basks in your presence and sits in the relief that you are back in his arms again.

“Astarion,” you break the silence, “I have to tell you something- I got a letter. It’s not… good.”

“I know, Darling,” Astarion says tightly, “you left it in here. Unfortunately I let my noisiness get the best of me.”

You both sit in the heavy silence that fills the air.

“I’m to be married off to him, Astarion,” you choke out.

“I won’t let him have you, “Astarion snarls, his voice coming out much harsher than he intended.

“But what if there isn’t a choice? What if it would protect yo-”

“No.”

He is looming over you, you are now flat on your back staring up at him. Astarion feels like a coil ready to spring. If it’s ever between him and you regarding who goes to Cazador- he’d serve a thousand life sentences before he’d ever let that vile man so much as look in your direction.

“Astarion-”

“No,” he says between clenched teeth, “you will not sacrifice yourself for me. I don’t care if you marrying Cazador and being his consort would make me mortal again. You will not be his- he cannot have you.”

You look up at him with bleary, adoring eyes, “okay.”

Astarion kisses your trembling lips and he tastes the tears staining them. Astarion pulls away and strokes your cheek softly. He lays back down and you turn towards him, tangling your hands into his hair, gently detangling it. Astarion rests his hands on your hips, using his fingers to delicately adjust you until your legs are entangled in his.

“My mom is dead, Star,” you say remorsefully “she’s gone. She was all alone and probably so afraid. I never even said goodbye before I left her to her fate- I was a coward.”

The hurt in your voice is raw and bleeding- it breaks Astarion’s heart all over again.

“I am so incredibly sorry for your mother and your loss, Little Love, “Astarion says softly, “but you are not a coward. You did what you needed to do. You were always planning on coming back.”

“I was,” you whisper, “I was going to get her first and then you.”

“Foolishly enough,” Astarion chuckles, “I never lost faith in you. I felt like if anyone could do it, it would be you- the glimpse of sunlight amongst the secondhand embarrassment that is Daisy Von.”

You giggle and press your face into his chest- the vibrations fills his chest with warmth. Astarion is so incredibly happy you are back where you belong- here with him.

“I am hardly comparable to the sun,” you say, “I think I’m a candle. Ordinary, accessible, there when you need it.”

Astarion turns over your words in his head- he agrees with the statement but disagrees with the reasoning entirely.

“You are a candle,” he says slowly, “but a candle has always been a luxury to me. It allowed me to sew or read- to have a tiny piece of my humanity back. It was nice to have a break from the dark, huddled around the small flame.”

He pauses, “ I suppose that is why I am so drawn to you. You make me feel like a person again and you are a luxury I never thought I’d be lucky enough to afford outside of those monthly visits.”

“Well, then I promise I will remain here,” you say with adoration, “your humble candle- for as long as you need me.”

“Be careful what you promise, Little Love,” Astarion teases, “if you aren’t careful, you may be stuck with me for eternity.”

“Gods, I hope so!” you say with flourish, “everyone else is terribly boring and does not appreciate my predisposition for shenanigans.”

“How ungrateful!”

“Entirely ungrateful!” you agree.

Astarion pulls you in for another kiss, a grin forming as you gasp at the suddenness of his actions. Astarion kisses the tip of your nose, both of your cheeks, and your forehead. You settle into him and he strokes your hair- your breathing evens out and you are slack against him.

Astarion takes in your sleeping figure and feels another surge of protectiveness enveloping his body. He doesn’t know how accessible his thoughts are to Cazador, but he hopes Cazador hears this one.

You cannot have her- she is mine.

_________________________________________________

Author note- should I do a part three and four with the Cazador confrontation? I’m torn- let me know your thoughts pleaseeeeee

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x you #bg3 spoilers #astarion romance #astarion x tav #bg3 #karlach #astarion acunin #astarion x f! reader #astarion x female reader

157 notes · View notes

haddonfieldwhore · 6 months

Text

remember me? - dominik mysterio

dominik mysterio x gn! reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: language, angst, blurs kayfabe and real life, readers gender isn’t specified but they face rhea in a tag match, rhea x reader a tiny bit

you were sitting on couch in your dressing room backstage, scrolling through your phone, when a notification popped up. you clicked on it, and a memory from you photos app with the caption “3 years ago today” appeared on your screen.

it was a photo your best friend… if you could still call him that, had taken on your phone. you smiled sadly, remembering how inseparable the two of you were before he joined the judgement day. you and dominik had been attached at the hip since you met when you were 5 years old, and you had always thought that nothing would ever come between you. if you hadn’t been there to see it with your own two eyes, you would have never believed it if someone told you dominik would turn on his father and join rhea, damian, and finn. you had tried to talk to him, to get him to change his mind, but it had only ended with rhea attacking you in the ring, leading to a tag match between the teams of you and rey, against dom and rhea. with help from the rest of the judgment day, your opponents had got the upper hand and scored the victory.

seeing dominik change from the sweet, gentle guy you had grown up with into what he was now hurt you more than you could bare, and you requested to be moved to smackdown instead of raw to get away from him and the judgment day. your wish had been granted, and it had been months since you talked to dominik. rey had moved to smackdown as well, and you were glad he was away from them; seeing what dom was becoming was hard for you, you couldn’t imagine what it was like for rey. he was convinced that rhea was manipulating his son, and while you wanted to believe that, you worried that dominik had changed on his own. even if you could get through to him - you weren’t sure if you would recognize the man he had become.

you heard a knock at the door, and looked at the time, 8:39pm, which meant smackdown was almost over. you assumed it was zelina, who you traveled with most of the time, and if you had known who was really on the other side of the door, you wouldn’t have opened it.

dominik stood with his hands in his pockets, and you strongly considered slamming the door in his face, but you could still see the same sparkle in his eyes that had always been there as he smiled at you, and couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“hey,” he said softly. you raised an eyebrow, as if to ask what he wanted. “can i come in?” you didn’t say anything, your head and your heart fighting over how to answer. “please parajito,” he pleaded. ‘little bird’ had always been his nickname for you, and your heart ached hearing it again.

“you don’t get to call me that,” you finally spoke, standing your ground.

“i just want to talk to you,” he said, raising his hands to plead his innocence.

“i have nothing to say to you,” you said sadly.

“you don’t have to say anything. just listen, okay?” he gave his best puppy dog eyes, and you let him speak.

“okay, let’s hear it.”

“i want you to join the judgment day,” he said, and you laughed.

“goodbye, dominik,” you said, shaking your head as you went to shut the door, but he stopped it with his hand.

“wait! please, you said you would listen,” he insisted, and you sighed.

“fine,” you crossed your arms over your chest. “you have 2 minutes.”

“think about it, y/n. you and me working together, the judgment day by our side; we would be unstoppable. i talked with the others and they agree that you would be a great addition to the group. things could go back to how they were with us. i want my best friend back.”

“dominik - this isn’t you!” you said, pointing to the judgment day logo on his hoodie. “they’re manipulating you. because if they’re not i really don’t know who you are anymore.”

“you know me better than anyone,” he argued, and you shook your head.

“what you did to your dad, your mom, aalyah-“

“don’t pretend like they didn’t have it coming, you saw first hand. my dad was never there for me growing up.”

“dominik, i’m not going to argue with you about your family-“

“judgment day is my family now,” he interjected. “and i want you by my side out there. come back to raw, and be apart of my new familia,” he begged, taking your hands softly in his. you tried to pull away, but didn’t fight very hard as he held onto you. he dropped your one hand to pull something out of his pocket, and you sighed as he tied a purple bandana around your wrist. “think about it,” he repeated, and you pulled your hands from his grip.

“your two minutes is up,” you said, closing the door in his face.

“i’ll see you monday!” he called through the door, and you sighed, sitting down on the couch and pulling your knees up under you chin. you scrolled through more memories your phone had brought up. you looked down at your wrist, and closed your eyes, leaning your head back on the back of the couch.

you weren’t really even considering it; right? you thought, running your hands over your face.

you wanted more than anything to have your best friend back, but you weren’t sure if he was still in there somewhere, or if he had been corrupted to the point where he could no longer be saved.

•••

monday had rolled around, and you paced around your hotel room, still thinking about what dominik had said. was joining the judgment day what it would take to get dominik back? was it worth it to turn your back on all of your friends on smackdown; to side with the enemy?

you looked at the time, your eyes landing on the purple bandana on the dresser, before you read 6:41 pm on the clock. raw was starting soon, and you had to make your decision now. you grabbed you stuff and headed to you car to drive to the arena, hoping that whatever you decided, you were making the right choice.

•••

all four members of the judgement day were standing in the ring, arguing with kevin, sami, and cody when your music hit, and you made your way down to the ring. you got in the ring, cody holding the rope for you to step over, and you stood face to face with dominik. he had a worried look in his eyes as you currently stood on the side of the enemy, and rhea stepped between the two of you, nose to nose with you.

“y/n…” kevin started, but rhea shot him a glare.

“shut up,” rhea snapped, before locking eyes with you again. “well, do you have an answer for us?” she asked, and you took a step back, giving you enough room to remove your ring jacket. everyone in the ring prepared for a fight. only dom noticed the purple bandana around your wrist, and cody was shocked as you turned around and knocked him to the ground; you had chosen your side.

as rhea went after the fallen cody, damian and finn locked up with sami and kevin. dominiks arms wrapped around your waist from behind, as he pulled you into his arms and into the corner of the ring away from the fight. dominik turned you to face him, his hands on your shoulders.

“you’re with us?” he asked, and you nodded.

“i’m with you,” you agreed, and he threw his arms around you, hugging you tight to his chest. you laughed, a sinking feeling in your stomach as you realized exactly how much you had missed him. the rest of judgment day had chased their opponents out of the ring, leaving just the five of you standing.

“i missed you, parajito,” he spoke into your ear, and you held onto him even tighter. you finally separated and rhea looked at you, an unreadable expression on her face. she threw an arm around dom’s shoulders, and then to your surprise, the other around yours.

“welcome to the judgement day,” she grinned, and you smiled. you had to admit, you were shocked at how welcome you felt in the group. dominik had said they all wanted you to join, but you were worried that his relationship, whatever it was, with rhea, might complicate things. but rhea could tell how much dominik meant to you, and admittedly, she had taken a liking to you almost immediately. “you’re mine now,” rhea smirked, holding you and dom close as he laughed.

“relax, mami, no one’s gonna steal them from you,” he smiled. damian and finn joined the group hug, and you realized that dom was telling the truth, they really were a family.

the judgment day music stopped as adam pearce came down the ramp, microphone in hand.

“excuse me, this is all very touching. y/n as you are a member of the smackdown roster, you cannot join a faction belonging to the raw roster without yourself moving to monday nights - is that what you want.” rhea pulled you behind her, already protective of the new member of her group.

“that’s what i want,” you confirmed, and dom wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder.

“i will see what i can do,” adam sighed, and rhea hugged you again, and you had to admit you felt safe in her arms. you had made the decision to join the judgment day to get your best friend back, but perhaps in doing so you had gained three more. dom smiled at you, and you felt him lace his fingers with yours as rhea clung to your other side.

“what do you think, dom? can we share them?” she asked, and he laughed.

“that’s up to them,” he said, kissing the side of your head innocently. you had never imagined that after only a few minutes, you would feel such a connection to the group.

damian and finn held the ropes so you, dom, and rhea could exit the ring, and the five of you headed backstage together.

“i think mami likes you,” dom whispered in your ear, as rhea still hadn’t let go of you.

“i could get used to it,” you smiled, and she returned it.

“what do you say boys? should we show them how we celebrate in the judgment day?”

“you know it,” damian smirked, fist bumping dominik.

“welcome to the family, y/n,” finn said.

“thank you guys,” you smiled, looking at each of them before finally your eyes landed on dom.

“maybe now dom with shut up about missing you all the time,” damian teased.

“c’mon man,” he blushed, and you laughed, using your still intertwined hands to pull him into your side, and you all laughed.

“i missed you too.”

#dominik mysterio #dom mysterio #dominik mysterio fic #dominik mysterio x reader #dominik mysterio imagine #wwe #wwe x reader #wwe fic #rhea ripley #rhea ripley x reader #judgment day #the judgment day #judgment day x reader #wrestling imagine #wrestling imagines

266 notes · View notes

jinhyun · 2 years

Text

pairing: hwang hyunjin x reader

genre: fluff, established relationship, a very worried hyunjin who won't stop overthinking

word count: 2.1k

summary: when hyunjin forgets your birthday... but so do you.

a/n: helloo, this is a (belated) birthday present for one of my friends here, that i will not tag bc of her privacy ig lol. i know i'm one day late (although in my time zone it's only one hour past the 26th so... yeah) but i hope you enjoy regardless! thank you for being my frehn and letting me drag you down with me over whatever these idiots do<3 although you drag me down with you too but i'm not thanking you for that lmao off to the story now.

Please don't hate me, please don't hate me, please don't hate me.

Hyunjin kept repeating those words to himself like a mantra as he desperately stared out the car's window, losing it by the second over how slow it was going — even when he had already asked the driver to go faster two times before and he was sure there was no such thing as 'going faster' by this point.

He didn't know what had come over him for this to happen, especially when he had been planning your present for months in advance.

You were always the one to hype him up the most in every single aspect of his life, and when it came down to his art there was no doubt you were his biggest fan. He remembered the way tears had formed in your eyes when he showed you a painting he did of Kkami. Hyunjin had laughed quite hard back then, both blissfully and nervously, trying to hide just how shy your reaction had made him feel.

That's when he decided he wanted to give you a painting of the both of you. Only he didn't know it would be so hard to choose one picture out of all his favourite ones — which were pretty much all the pictures you had taken together throughout your relationship. And then he didn't think it would be so hard to capture the beauty of it.

He had started over more than three times, and had changed the picture another two. He had made progress, though, but he was only halfway done when Stray Kids started preparing for their next comeback. And just like that, in between all the song recording, the dance practices and the video shootings, not only had he forgotten about finishing your present, but about your birthday altogether.

The one day of the year he had wanted to make you feel the most special —even if he did that every single day he was with you—, he had forgotten about it.

He had gotten to his dorm at past 9pm in hopes of taking a shower and sleeping until the next day, only to be hit with realisation when he checked his calendar one last time before going to sleep. He didn't even think twice before he jumped out of bed and changed back into a pair of jeans and a grey hoodie, calling one of JYPE's drivers to go pick him up while he struggled to put on his shoes on his way out and a pretty worried Chan asked what the hell was going on.

He could've called you, he knew he could've. He could've come up with any excuse, or straight up told you he forgot and apologise for it, and he knew you would understand… but you deserved better. He was a better boyfriend than just to call at past nine in the night to wish you a happy birthday when he had not texted you the whole day.

He just wished he could make it to your place before midnight, so he could apologise before your birthday was done and somehow make it better.

With it being already 10:56pm and him being stuck in traffic, though, he could only start to lose hope.

Eyes fixing on his phone as he checked the time one more time —as if he hadn't done it just two minutes ago—, he sighed, not being able to stop himself from asking the driver once more to speed up and inevitably receiving a not-so-friendly look from the man over the rearview mirror, that let Hyunjin know he was indeed not speeding up anymore. He decided not to push it any further, after all, he had made him stop twice on the way to your place so he could get you your favourite cake and then your favourite chocolates. It would be better not to test his limits.

It would take thirty more minutes for him to get to your building, and another two for him to be in front of your door, as he didn't waste a single second before he rushed out of the car and ran all the way up to your floor. If the cake he had bought made it out intact, it would truly be a miracle.

Hyunjin had never been more anxious while waiting for you to open the door — having to knock on it for a second time, after a minute was enough to let his mind wander around all kinds of heartbreaking scenarios. What if you were mad? Like, really, really mad? What if you didn't want to talk to him? See him? Even worse, what if you wanted to break up?

"Hyun?" your sleepy voice from the other side of the door stopped him from overthinking any further.

Being too stunned to answer, he waited for you to open it for him. Longest four seconds of his life.

"I'm so sorry, I'm the worst boyfriend ever" he blurted out as soon as you were in front of him, ignoring the way you were tiredly rubbing your eyes and leaving everything he was carrying on the floor so he could wrap you tightly inside his arms. "I'm sorry, there's no excuse really, I've just been very busy and I forgot, which is shitty as hell but there's still half an hour left and I brought you your favourite cake so hopefully you can forgive me and—"

"Oh my God, baby, slow down" you laughed, pulling him slightly away from you and cupping his face in your hands. "What's going on?"

Hyunjin blinked in utter confusion. "W-What do you mean what's going on?"

"Yeah, why are you apologising? What did you forget?"

Hyunjin stayed silent, staring at you as he tried to figure out whether you were genuinely oblivious or you were trying to get him to admit he had forgotten about your birthday, so you could later lash out at him. He felt as if he was tiptoeing around you — whatever it was you were feeling right then, he did not want to make it worse.

"Baby?" you pushed it, gently caressing his cheeks. "What's wrong?"

"I—um," he cleared his throat, looking down before he reached down to pick up both the box of chocolates and the one containing the cake. "I brought you this…"

"Aww, these are my favourite," you gushed at the sight of the chocolates.

Pouting cutely over how cute and out of nowhere this small present of his was, you pressed a sweet kiss to his lips before your attention went to the bigger box he was holding.

"You brought a cake?" you raised your eyebrows in surprise.

"Mhm…" he nodded.

"You could've just brought me a piece, you know?" you laughed, taking the white box in your hands and finally inviting him in as the two of you made your way to the kitchen. "There is no way I'm finishing this on my own, you're taking half of it with you when you go back to the dorm".

A light laugh escaped Hyunjin's mouth, carefully testing the waters when you put the box down on the kitchen counter by coming up to you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder. When you didn't seem to tense up at the contact —if anything, feeling your muscles relax under his touch—, he wrapped his arms around your waist ever so tenderly, pulling you to his chest and placing a soft kiss to the crook of your neck.

"I'm sorry…" he pouted.

"I still don't know what you're sorry for" you pointed out.

Hyunjin bit his bottom lip. God, he wished he could tell whether you were playing with him or not.

"You might want to open that then" he motioned to the white box, which was wrapped up in a burgundy silk ribbon that came together at the top of it.

Turning your head to look at him for a moment, you frowned, then looking down to the box and slowly untying the ribbon so you could open it. And then, when you were met by a beautiful heart-shaped cake that read 'happy birthday' on it —and which was surprisingly not a mess after Hyunjin's solo race to your place—, everything suddenly made sense.

"It's my birthday?"

Definitely not the reaction Hyunjin had expected.

"What do you mean 'it's my birthday'? Of course it's your birthday!"

"You seem way too pressed over it for someone who forgot about it, too".

"Aish, baby—don't" he defeatedly let his forehead fall to your shoulder.

Letting out a loud laugh, you managed to turn around and cup his face in your hands for a second time that night. "So this is why you were so worried?"

"Don't laugh, I thought I would lose you over this" he pouted.

"You're so cute" you giggled, softly pressing your mouth to his. "You wouldn't lose me over something as meaningless as this".

"Don't say that, your birthday is not meaningless" he frowned.

"I had to go to work like any other day and so did you," you shrugged. "Nothing special".

"But I was supposed to make it special" he pointed out. "And you're only saying this because you forgot too, otherwise you would've been hurt, even if it was a little bit".

"Okay, maybe…" you agreed. "But I would've gone to bed a little bit sad and that would've been it".

"And as your boyfriend I can't let that happen" he shook his head, letting his hands travel down to your waist. "It won't happen again, I promise".

"It's okay," you smiled, leaning in to rest your face on his chest and letting out a contented sigh when he pulled you closer. "The cake and chocolates make up for it. Thank you, Jin-ie".

"I have another present for you, though…" he mumbled. "I just wasn't able to finish it".

You pulled away in excitement, staring up at him as you waited for an answer you were sure you would not get. "What is it?!"

"You'll have to wait and see" he smirked.

"Aw, come on" you whined. "I cannot wait now that you told me".

"Too bad".

"You wanted me to forgive you for forgetting my birthday?" you raised a daring eyebrow.

Hyunjin gasped over-dramatically. "I thought you already forgave me?"

"I can revoke my forgiveness if you don't tell me".

"You're mean" he called you out. "It's a painting, and that's as much as I'm telling".

"A painting of you?" you pushed it.

"Now why would I give you a painting of me" he snorted.

"Why not?" you shrugged. "You're my favourite sight to see".

"Ugh, so cheesy" he cringed, earning a laugh from you that he was soon to follow. "There's one sight that is so much better, though".

"Mine?" you guessed.

Hyunjin laughed under his breath, leaning in to steal a kiss from you. "Okay, two sights".

You giggled. "So me and…"

"And the sight of us together" he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, pressing his mouth to your smiling one once more.

"Narcissistic much?" you said in between kisses.

"Just telling the truth" he mumbled, smiling ever so sweetly when you were the one to pull him in for another kiss just as he was pulling away.

"Well, I do love the sight of us together" you admitted. "How come you forgot it was my birthday if you were literally making me a painting of us, though?"

"Because I'm an idiot" he sighed, feeling at ease when your laugh reached his ears. "And I got too caught up in work. But it's halfway done, I promise I'll finish it soon".

"Don't push yourself too hard, love. You can even give it to me next year if you want".

"No way, even if it's a belated present, you're getting it this year".

"Okay," you giggled, eyes travelling down to the cake next to you and then to the clock on the kitchen wall. "Well, there are still twenty minutes left of my birthday, so how about we just eat some cake and then go to bed?"

"That sounds nice," he smiled, cupping your face in his warm hands and pressing his lips to your forehead. "Happy birthday, my dummy who forgot her birthday".

"Thank you, dork who forgot my birthday" you smiled.

"Seriously, though," he laughed. "What kind of idiot forgets their own birthday?"

"At least I didn't forget yours".

His smile faltered. "You win".

2K notes · View notes

youchangedmedestiel · 2 months

Text

As promised I said I'll give you fic recs to celebrate the fact that I have more than 100 followers now. Again, thanks a lot! This makes me happy! :)

So now, here's my gift to you:

Every fucking fic by xylodemon

The writing is always perfect! I'm not kidding, this is my favorite writer so far! I've never been disappointed by their fics. NEVER! I haven't finish to read all of them but I certainly attend to.

Fics written by deancaskiss

If you like reading about Cas and Dean "just" kissing, then you should try reading those, if you haven't done it yet. I haven't read all of them yet, I read only around 10 fics for now, but same I'll attend to read more.

Then, more specifically:

Blackberries Wild by SaltyWords (agent4hire22) Angst, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Canon divergent after 13x12, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, brief mention of suicidal ideation - around 2500 words

This is so well written, the descriptions are everything, especially the ones for the kisses. It could totally happened like that. It's very true to their character if you ask me.

a kiss for every season (literally) by sobsicles and it is also available as a podfic here read by Scintillating Gatria (LadyLoralye) Canon typical level of violence, Canon Compliant, Brief Dean Winchester/Benny Lafitte - Freeform, Angst with a Happy Ending, Kisses, Smut - around 22000 words

The title says it all, a kiss between Cas and Dean happens every season and since there's never enough kisses between these two, that fic is therefore perfect.

People Who Are Good Like Pie by sobsicles Blowjob, NSFW, Castiel is a Little Shit, Dean is In Over His Head, Flustered Dean, Confused Dean, Creatively ties eating pie into sex, Sounds disgusting but it's really not I promise, it's hilarious, fluff and porn - around 1800 words

And it is indeed hilarious imo as well as very hot. It's short and easy to read, really different from the above. But it's human!cas and I'm weak for him in a sense that there is so much potential with him in a fic and that I love him.

You and I Know the Way by aishitara Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Series, Canon Compliant through 15x18, Fluff, a smidgen of angst, PWP, Porn with Feelings, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Mentions of Blood, Mild Hurt/Comfort - around 4300 words

There is human!cas in there too, so yeah I'm sold. Plus some amazing, beautiful, stunning art from winchester-reload is included in the fic so it's even more perfect. This is smut yes, but, BUT you can really see all the love there is between them and that fucks me up. That's the type of porn that makes me cry. I never thought I could say that about porn one day. But maybe it's because it isn't, this is just LOVE!

Humans Do It Better by Hatteress Episode: s06e10 Caged Heat (Supernatural), Excessive Drinking, Light Angst, First Kiss, Second more heated kiss, Kinda Funny.

I invented the tags here because it isn't on AO3. I need to mention this fic because it was like one of the first fics I read. It was more than a year ago and I still remember it. Maybe because I wished it had a next FUCKING chapter. I want to read more about it. I want to see what happened when they meet again later. I want to see what's going on in Dean's mind the next morning when he realized what he did, thinking about how he corrupted a fucking angel. Feeling guilty about it because it's Dean. I - I, maybe I'll fucking write this second chapter one day. But I don't know if it's a thing, you know, writing a sequel to someone else's fic.

Anyway, I hope you'll like reading those if it's not already done. I for sure have more fics to recommend but I have to save some for the 200 followers I guess lmao. One can dream.

BUT if you need specific fics, like from an episode in particular for example, you can still ask me because I sort them by episode tag too.

55 notes · View notes

luvhughes43 · 1 year

Text

nostalgia | trevor zegras x reader

suki waterhouse masterlist

part two

summary: y/n and trevor broke up as trevor had to leave her to play hockey in cali, since trevor did not want to do long distance. y/n thinks back to their relationship, the good and the bad, and thinks about how she wishes she could still be with trevor.

lyrics: "I talk about the past like i talk about you, i leave out every little thing that i dont like remembering" and "i miss you more than i say i do, you had to follow all your dreams, just wish that they included me"

word count: 0.8k

posted 3 years ago

y/nuser

liked by trevorzegras, jackhughes, and others

y/nuser z baby

it wasn't that uncommon for people to ask you about your relationship with trevor. You’d be out at a sports bar with a few friends when Z's picture, or a highlight of his, would come on to the screen. Didn’t you two used to date? What was it like dating a hockey player? Is he a good person? Were all questions thrown your way. You usually just nodded or pretended you couldn't hear them. When you did feel nostalgia, and felt the need to talk, usually after multiple drinks but who was keeping track? you always made sure to tell everyone the happiest stories, the funniest jokes. You didn't like remembering the breakup and heartache. It was a long night of questions.

You escaped to the bar, dark blue light hitting off your face as you waited for the bartender to pass over your drink. you felt somebody nudge your shoulder, and you turned to find a girl around your age smiling at you. “Hey so i heard that you and Trevor Zegras used to-”

You turned back to the bar just as the bartender took somebody else’s order a few spots away. Your drink was set in front of you and you were glad for the distraction, quickly downing it. “So like I was just wondering if you knew his type or… like had his number or something?” she continued on, clearly not getting the hint that you weren’t interested in the conversation.

“No i don't know him” you snapped as you pushed yourself up off your barstool and onto the crowded walkway. You shoved passed the blonde who scoffed loudly at you, and made your way to your friend.

“I’m going to head out” you shouted over the ESPN theme and the shouts of sports fans. Your friend turned her head towards you, she bit her lip, and you could sense the pity coming off her in waves. “Is this about trevor? Sweetie, I thought you said you guys had a great relationship? There’s nothing for you to be sad about” her voice was like honey as she trailed her hand from your shoulder down to your wrist. She held onto your hand for a second before dropping it.

You hadn’t told her how much you missed him, or the heartbreak you went through because of everything that happened.

You tried to give Vanessa a reassuring smile, “Vanessa, I'm fine it's just too crowded in here”

“Okay well I don't want you to become a hermit or anything” she turned towards the guy she was after and gave an obnoxious fake laugh. You chuckled just to satisfy Vanessa before you turned quickly on your heel and made it the hell out of the building.

Posted 2 year ago

y/nuser

Liked by trevorzegras, _alexturcotte, and others

y/nuser lake day🌞

tagged: trevorzegras

Baby! Come here! Trevor shouted down from the docks.

I'm coming, I'm coming! You giggled as you finished lathering yourself up with sunscreen.

Look, I'm gonna show you how to paddle board, it’s so easy. I'll take you for a ride he smiled at you as you practically ran down to the dock.

When you finally reached him, he grabbed you by your waist and spun you around. He set you down and he pressed his forehead against yours, I love you.

I love you! Trevor, please we can figure this out! You cried as he started packing up your things from his room.

y/n i've thought a lot about this, and i'm leaving. I’m going to play for Anaheim and you’re not coming with me. He said, and it shocked you how casual he sounded about it. Just this morning he had told you he had loved you, letting you believe you guys had a chance.

Baby please… I don't have to come with you, we can do long distance or… we can think of something just please! You put your hands on top of his, effectively stopping him taking your clothes out of his dresser.

I don't want to, he whispered and you swore it was a curse.

posted 1 years ago

trevorzegras

liked by jackhughes, jamie.drysdale, and others

trevorzegras a dream come true

Every time you saw him post, or saw a highlight or reel of him, your heart broke a little more. You couldn't help but miss him, even after how he broke things off with you.

If anyone asked, you swore things broke up amicably, with the two of you smiling and wishing each other off well. You never let anyone know the heartbreak he caused, because you felt so stupid about it. He blindsided you, and if people knew how much you actually missed him… it made you feel sick.

Despite it all you wished he could have seen you in his future. You could never be mad at him for having to follow his dreams, but the way he handled it… you hated that you still loved him so much.

#suki waterhouse fic list #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras blurb #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl blurb

354 notes · View notes

glitterypin · 3 months

Text

tagged by bestie @snugsunresplendence (sorry to arrive so late to the party but work has been an absolute whore)

1) were you named after anyone?

I grew up knowing I was named after one of my father's aunts (whom I loved very much as a kid - she died when I was 12). A lot later I found out that my grandmother wasn't my mother's biological mother and that my mother's biological mother also shared the same name, so there was some intent there, as well.

2) when was the last time you cried?

I teared up a bit after therapy today but the last proper cry with full sobs and snot was Saturday after work byecause work lately has been an absolute WHORE.

3) do you have kids?

No and I don't want them.

4) what sports do you/have you played?

I played volleyball when I was a kid. I'm not at all sporty and I'm also super fat and out of shape that even though I wish I could run or hike, my body just can't.

5) do you use sarcasm?

Quite a lot, since I was very young. Not in a cruel way anymore, though. Like, I'll be sarcastic like "such lovely weather we're having!" when the weather is very obviously shitty.

6) what's the first thing you notice about people?

I don't even know. The look on their faces, probably.

7) what's your eye color

Dark brown.

8) scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings, I don't believe in recreational fear.

9) any talents?

I'm very smart, good with words and I have a good instinct for narrative structure. Sadly, I am wasting all of this in discussing other people's writings instead of writing my own things, because I counterbalance my talents with an unhealthy level of laziness.

10) where were you born?

A hospital in Athens, Greece.

11) what are your hobbies?

I like watching films, reading, writing (small things, nothing that requires any level of effort or commitment), baking and also doing absolutely nothing, sometimes accompanied by music.

12) do you have any pets?

No. I'd like a cat but I don't feel ready for the responsibility of taking care of a living thing, yet. I got a pot of basil a few months ago and right now it's a pot of soil with two brown sticks sticking out that I still water every few days, pretending that it's just a phase and that I haven't actually killed the very dead thing.

13) how tall are you?

166cm, I think

14) favorite subject in school?

Chemistry, probably. I'm sure it wasn't the same every year but I was a lot into chemistry for a long time, I remember as much.

15) dream job

Well, screenwriter, I guess. Except I'd also need my dream personality to go with this dream job because the way I am now I just can't.

tagging! @gothic-goon @yourfluffiestnightmare @ivankaramazov07 @santacoppelia @lavend3r-mo0n

69 notes · View notes

jasntodds · 11 months

Text

Petrichor [1]

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

Words: 9,133

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, talks of drug addiction

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: It’s finally here!! I promise this book will be more fun than previous one and it stays mostly canon besides a few things, so have fun lol I really hope you guys like this!! If you want context from book 1, let me know and I’ll tell you!! 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

Being back in Gotham is almost surreal. When you were uprooted over a year ago, you weren’t sure if you’d ever make it back. Hell, you didn’t think you’d ever make it out of that basement, let alone back home. But, here you are. You’re back in Gotham and there’s a weight that is lifted from your shoulders.

You knew you missed it but you didn’t realize how much until now, standing outside of Wayne Manor. This isn’t even your home, the Manor, but it is a staple in Gotham. You thought maybe you would miss San Francisco and want to go back after a week or so, but right now, you’re positive that won’t be the case. This is home.

And then there’s Jason who’s standing confidently with a content smile pulling at his face. You have Jason here. You swears you’re happier around him, no matter where you are. He makes the world better, your world. You’ve only known each other a few months now but it feels like you’ve been friends your entire lives and you wouldn’t trade him for anything. You are so happy to be here with him.

“Want the tour?” Jason asks, carrying your bag for you and he’s got this sly grin, the one you’ve missed more than you thought possible.

“Of Wayne Manor, hell yeah, lead the way.” Your smile is so bright and Jason missed you, too.

This is his home. A part of him still isn’t exactly used to it. He’s not sure if he ever will be entirely, it’s not exactly him but it’s his home. And he’s welcoming you right into it because, despite his inhabitations and the paranoia that leaks into the brightest parts of his mind, he knows he can trust you with his home. With those parts of himself and he is just so happy to have you here with him. Just him.

Jason gestures an arm out forward, ushering you forward and the two of you walk inside. Jason leads you to your room first to set your bag down. He opens the door for you and allows you inside while he leans against the doorframe, sticking his hands in his front pockets. You walk in, looking around and taking the room in. He’s missed you.

It’s only been a month but it’s felt like the longest month of his life. Jason knew he missed you, that was undeniable. But, he didn’t realize just how much until he picked you up from Titans Tower. He saw you and the smile that split his face was uncontrollable. He remembers that day he left with Rose, how you wanted to convince him to stay but you didn’t because you didn’t want to be selfish. He gets it now because he wanted to ask you if you’d come back with him sooner, when he left with Bruce. That’s not fair to Gar and he knows that and he’d never ask you to pick between the two of them. But he wishes he would have anyway because a month away from you feels like an eternity.

“What do ya think?” Jason asks, his voice has this warmth to it that you’ve never heard before. You wonder if the warmth is because this is home and Titans Tower always felt like a hotel.

“It’s big.” You laugh. “Of course it is. And it’s dark and moody, very on brand for fucking Batman.” You roll your eyes, putting your bag down on the bed.

“Yeah, it’s his thing.” Jason chortles. “I’m right down the hall.” Jason jerks his head to the left.

“You’re always right down the hall. Can’t stand to be that far away from me, huh?” You give him a smirk with the wiggle of your brows.

Jason feels the blush creep across his face. “You came here with me, babe.” Jason quips and he’s missed this, too. You don’t play the game over text.

You rolls your eyes but your smile is starting to hurt your cheeks. “You gave me no choice, shithead.”

“You wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Yeah, okay.” You look down to your shoes and back to Jason before walking up to him. “Tour?”

“Come on.” Jason pushes himself off the doorframe and the two of you start the tour.

Jason leads you around the manor, showing you the living rooms and kitchens because of course, there’s more than one of both. He shows you the several bathrooms and an in-home gym and training room. Jason ends the tour though, with his favorite room of the house, the library. He opens the doors with confidence, walking right inside to allow you to follow him.

You look around, seeing large library shelves holding tons of books. There are windows against the wall facing you and a couch up against it with a small coffee table right in front of the window. The couch is the same as the ones in all the living rooms. Bruce definitely has a theme. Dark and moody. Jason’s smile is soft as he looks at you.

“You would end the tour here.” You state softly.

“You surprised?”

“Not even a little bit.” You smile softly at him because he didn’t need to show the room to you. You don’t like to read but he did anyway, because it’s his thing. “Favorite room?”

Jason nods. “Yeah, spend a lot of time in here or training.” Jason’s eyes look up with the last word.

“Of course.” You laugh softly. “It’s cool.”

Jason shrugs a shoulder. “Yeah, it is.”

He looks content, comfortable. There’s an easiness about him here. Back at the tower, he seemed on edge a lot, even before Deathstroke. He always had this wall that, everyone would argue wasn’t worth the effort to knock down, but you never had any issues. It was a wall though, a sturdy brick wall that was completely unmovable. But, here, right now, he looks so content and comfortable. No one would ever know the horrors he’s experienced by looking at him right now.

You walk up to him. “How are you?” You point a finger to your head. “Ya know?”

“I’m fine.” Jason shrugs the question off. He doesn’t wanna go there today. “How’re you?”

“You sure?” You ask and you’re just checking on him. “Happy to be back.” You answer so simply that Jason’s heart explodes in warmth.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Jason urges, the smile splits his face. “You look happy.” Jason chuckles softly.

It feels different. Getting on the plane and you telling him about some of the Titans stuff he's missed. It feels different but in a good way. It’s like with the tower, there was all this added pressure for the both of you. Expectations to be something more than what you both were dealt. And there were the feelings you had for Gar that Jason tried his best to tip-toe around. But right now, you get to exist together outside of those expectations. He is Robin and he gets to be Robin like he has been. You get to just exist in a home. It is comfortable, already and you have each other. It feels different but in a way Jason’s never quite felt before.

“Wanna get some food?” Jason asks.

“You hitting me on, Jay?” The corner of your mouth twitches into a teasing smirk.

It’s the game the two of you love so much. This time though, there isn’t anything standing in your way to actually play the game how Jason wants to. A little more contact, make the game a little more thrilling.

“Got a problem with it?” Jason smirks back, taking a step forward, closing the short distance between you.

You narrow your eyes and you’re surprised by the comment but you would never have a problem with it. “Well, if I’m gonna get good out of it, I guess not.”

Jason laughs. “Oh, so you’re using me for food, huh?”

“I do like food, Jay.”

“Wow.” Jason nods his head dramatically. “Didn’t think you’d use me. I’m so hurt.”

“Shut up.” You groan, rolling your eyes. “Where we going?”

“I’ll make burgers.” Jason holds a prideful grin.

“You can cook?” You quip.

“Hell yeah, I can cook.” Jason gestures his hands towards himself as if you should have always know. You’ve never seen him cook anything more than a breakfast sandwich and an omelet.

“Well, make me food!” You fake whine at him.

“Well, since you asked so fucking nicely.” Jason scoffs but his grin holds steady.

The two of you head to the kitchen that leads out into the back courtyard. That’s another thing you’re somehow surprised by. Of course, there’s a courtyard, but it’s shocking nonetheless. It’s so weird being here and being able to live here. You wonder how Jason ever adjusted because you’re not sure you can. But, you don’t say anything to Jason, instead, you watch him grab burgers from the fridge which were very clearly previously prepared and you think it’s sweet. Jason already had food prepped and there’s something so incredibly kind and thoughtful about it, it’s almost surprising. But, you still say nothing and instead just watch him fire up the grill once you both get outside.

“So,” You ask from your spot at the outdoor table. “How’s Gotham been?”

“Bruce is letting me be Robin some more.” Jason boasts, flipping one of the burgers.

“Really? That’s awesome, Jay. I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah, it’s been great.” Jason’s smile is warm and tender. “Went on Patrol last night.”

Jason wasn’t really sure if Bruce would let him after the whole Deathstroke fiasco. He thought maybe Bruce would want him to take some more time off and learn his lesson about going off on his own. But, Bruce let him right back out with him.

“How’d it go?”

“Great,” Jason holds his head with pride and he neglects to tell you it hasn’t been going that well every other night. “Took down some of Penguin’s men.”

“Oh, he’s still doing his Penguin thing?”

“Yeah.” Jason chortles. “Still making everyone else do the dirty work so his hands stay clean.”

“Gotta give it to him, smart.” You let out a laugh.

Jason looks over with a scrunched nose. “Siding with a bad guy now? You alright?” Jason can’t help but laugh because he agrees with you. It’s Penguin, sure he does some fucked up shit sometimes, but usually, he’s the least of their problems.

“No, I’m just saying. If more of the fucks did what Penguin does, they wouldn’t get caught.”

“We still catch Penguin.” Jason points the spatula at you.

“Yeah, but not nearly as often as guys like Mr. Freeze or even Scarecrow. Scarecrow got people to do his shit, too sure, but the whole Fear Gas really pinned him.” You point a finger at him to mock him but Jason’s brows furrow as he looks at you with confusion. “What?”

“Don’t like Batman but you sure know a lot of the bad guys, huh?” Jason teases.

“Fuck Batman.” You let out a laugh and you decide to throw him a bone, just to see him get all flustered. “I like Robin though.”

Jason feels the heat creep onto his cheeks again and he turns away in hopes you don’t notice. You do though and your stomach swarms. He’s cute when he’s flustered.

“Suit do it for ya?” Jason manages to get out as he flips the burgers.

“It’s the eye shadow and the cape.”

“Shut up!” Jason groans through a laugh, tilting his head back.

“Look at you, being a batboy again though.” You tease with the scrunch of your nose and maybe that’s why he seems like he’s in such a good mood. Robin means everything to him.

“Alright.” Jason shakes his head and you drive him crazy in the best way possible. “How was being a Titan?” He looks over at you.

“Pretty good.” You shrug. “We took down part of some illegal gun trading ring.”

“Yeah?” Jason perks up with the comment.

“Mhm, pretty cool. We didn’t get all of them, Dick was figuring out a plan to get all of them when I left but yeah, it was pretty cool.” You offer him a soft smile.

It was definitely cool being a Titan. You felt useful. You were going something good and helping people with your friends. It didn’t feel like you were wasting away anymore. It was as if you had some sort of purpose even if it also felt draining. Fighting and taking down these guys is fun, thrilling, and empowering. But, you aren’t sure that’s the best thing for you right now. The paranoia is still in the front of your mind, worried about it backfiring one day. You know it’s not best to be a Titan or a vigilante at all for right now. You want to feel normal for at least a little bit before getting back into it. You’re so certain you will be getting back into it, just after a little time.

“Use your powers?” Jason asks, plucking one of the burgers from the grill and putting it on a plate.

“Knives and fists, actually.” You hold your head up high.

“Why don’t you use your powers? You have them.” Jason continues to place the rest of the burgers onto the plate.

You shrug. “I dunno.” You let out a sigh. “I don’t like the acid.” You watch as Jason walks over to the table, placing the plate right in the middle amongst the condiments and buns. Jason hands you a plate. “Thanks.”

“Is it because of Jerry?” Jason asks, grabbing you a bun and handing it to you.

“Yeah, like…using it means he still won, ya know?” You use a pair of tongs to put a burger onto your bun while Jason gets his plate ready.

“He didn’t though, you beat the shit out of him and he’s locked up. You won.” Jason takes a seat with his food, right next to you rather than across the table.

“Yeah, I know but…” You pause, grabbing one of the condiments. “Using them just reminds me of everything he did to me and that it’s his fault. With the clairvoyance, I can’t help it. So, that’s fine and that protects me but the acid…I don’t have to use it.” You clear your throat. “There’s also that whole thing about getting kidnapped, ya know? Bit worried that might happen again if someone knows.”

The only people you know with powers are the Titans. But, it seems they’re the ones getting kidnapped for having powers. Rachel was basically being hunted for sport, Gar did get kidnapped, and Conner was made in a test tube then kidnapped because of it. You’re pretty content not using your powers if that’s the risk you’re taking. You do not want to be locked in another basement. Over your dead body. Then, there is Jerry. He won if you use them. He gave them to you against your will. He doesn’t get to win. You escaped him and nearly killed him. He gets to lose.

“Yeah,” Jason sucks in a breath. “Kidnapping shit is a good point.” Jason lets out a scoff.

You’ve been held captive twice in under two years. You have a point and Jason can’t say he blames you. And you witnessed that be the reason for Gar being kidnapped and tortured, and brainwashed. Jason knows enough about what Jerry did to you to understand your resistance and hesitance with using your powers. He does, however, wish you weren’t scared because they could protect you. But, he keeps that to himself because he can’t dispute your fear and that’s not his place to do so. He is, however, certain he’d go to the ends of the Earth to find you if ever happened again.

“Fuck that piece of shit though. If you ever want to use your powers, you should out of spite.” Jason states. “It’s like a fuck you to him. He gave you powers so he could have them and now he gets to rot the fuck away in prison.”

“Thank you, Jay.” You let out a soft laugh. “You’ve got a point.” You do like the idea of spite. There is no better fuel than spite sometimes.

“I always have a point.” Jason chuckles, adding mustard to his burger while you take a bite of your burger.

“Okay.” You swallow. “Why is this the best burger I’ve ever had?” Of all things Jason Todd can do, cooking seems to be the weirdest. Theater nerd, bookworm, chef?

“I told you I can cook.” Jason holds a triumphant smile.

“Seriously? How? How do you know how to cook?!”

There’s a sad smile that crosses his lips as he takes his own bite. “My mom.” Jason swallows. “I used to cook for us. She was always high out of her fucking mind so it was I cook or we both starve.” Jason shrugs his shoulders. “You get creative when you don’t have more than a handful of shit that’s actually edible.”

“You took care of her?” You ask, your voice gentle.

You never asked about his mom. It didn’t seem like a topic he’d ever want to discuss. You never want to talk about your dad. But, you’ve been through so much shit together, you don’t think any question could possibly be off limits between the two of you. And Jason taking care of his mom actually makes perfect sense. That explains a lot about him.

Jason nods softly. “Yeah,” He shrugs a shoulder. “She was my mom.”

“I kind of thought you hated her.” You state honestly, you hate your dad so you always figured Jason hated his mom. But it was different. While Jason’s mom was an addict, she at least didn’t abandon him.

“No.” Jason shakes his head. “I’m mad because fucking drugs, right? Why the fuck wasn’t I good enough for her? To quit, get help, or some shit. But, I don’t hate her. I always took care of her.”

No one really gets that part of him. To have no hatred for his mom, of all people. Every day, she’d pick drugs over him. She’d date her dealers who were always terrible people. A lot of them abused Jason and his mom either did not care because she got a discount on whatever her drug of choice was at the time or she was so far gone, she didn’t even notice. But, it was the two of them a lot and it was his job to take care of her, even if it never should have been. She was his mom.

“That’s nice of you and honestly, good for you. It never should have been your responsibility.”

“Yeah, but it was.” Jason scoffs. “How about you?” Jason jerks his head up towards you in a quick motion. His mom is still sore spot for him, though. “Like, do you ever…wish you knew your dad?”

Jason never asked about your dad because he does, hate his dad. Jason lived with his mom because his dad was down and out. A part of Jason didn’t blame him. Addicts aren’t easy to be with but Jason was a kid. He never should have been left alone to take care of his mom. And when he did see his dad, sometimes he’s get mad because Jason’s always had a smart mouth, always been a troublemaker, and his dad would snap sometimes. Jason doesn’t have a grudge against him, but he doesn’t like him either. So, he never asked.

Your brows furrow as you continue to eat your burger. “I don’t know. Not really. I only saw him once, he came to yell at my mom. It was something about her not letting him see me or something. He shoved her and he was high as fuck. Never showed up again. Like, I wish I knew him but he also picked drugs over me and I don’t want someone who’s gonna pick drugs over me in my life. Even if it’s to tell him to go fuck himself.” You shrug. “I think I just want to know why but not enough to look for him or even hear him out if he shows up. Not worth my time.”

Jason lets out a soft chuckle and that’s something he gets. He wanted to know why his dad was the way he was but it wasn’t worth it to ask. It wouldn’t have made the situation better. It wouldn’t have changed anything. It probably would have made things worse.

“Dads, right?” Jason lets out a scoff.

“Yeah.” You scoff and for a second, you think that at least he has Bruce. Bruce might not be the best by a long shot, but he at least cares about him. “Anyway,” You sigh. “This is seriously really good.” You smile at him. “I think you should cook for me all the time.” You beam.

“Oh, now you want me to be your personal chef?” Jason quips.

“You’re so good at it, Jay.” You lean in closer to him, batting your eyelashes and Jason’s heart stops in his chest. Maybe he misses that feeling, too.

“Kissing my ass?” Jason’s brows wave at you.

“Is it working?” Your smile turns cheeky.

“You could keep going.”

You let out a booming laugh, sitting back up in your chair. “I missed you so fucking much.”

“Yeah, I missed you, too.” Jason chuckles softly.

You make him feel so at ease with everything. He’s haunted and damaged and a little bit of a mess, but he doesn’t feel any of those things with you. He just feels like Jason Todd. And that is refreshing. And he misses your laugh and the way your eyes crinkle at the corners when you smiles at him. He missed the way his heart likes to do summersaults around you and the taunting smirks you give him. He missed the easiness you provide.

“Alright, how’re things, really?” Jason asks, sitting back in his chair, nudging your knee with his.

Your brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“Nightmares, training.” Jason answers as smoothly as he can.

Maybe he’s been asking about you. You don’t lie to him but you omit information and Jason’s not mad about it. He never could be. He does it, too but with him not being at the tower, maybe he’s asked Gar and Dick a few times how you've been. They tell him point blank. At the end of the day, Gar and Dick know the two of you are the only ones who could ever get through to each other. So, when Jason asks, they tell him.

You pause, looking at him and how does he know that? Jason shows he cares in different ways than most people. Like, for example, he doesn’t tell them. That’s too much, too real. Instead, he does things for them. But this, for him to know that, he’d have to be asking about you. Of course, he could have figured it out. If anyone knows you the best, it would be him but the way he said it, you’re positive that’s not it.

“You asking about me?”

Jason shrugs. “And what if I am?”

You want to combust. You both tiptoe around the inevitable conversation. It’s bound to happen one way or another. But it’s day one in Gotham and neither of you want to go there yet. So, you dodge the game, just for that question.

“Yeah, I, uh, I don’t know.” You shrug. “Most nights I wake up from a nightmare. I don’t really like to sleep anymore.” You chew the inside of your cheek.

Jason looks at you and he hates that for you. But he doesn’t really sleep either. Deathstroke has permanently destroyed parts of him and that includes the ability to get any real sleep. “You gotta find a way to sleep.”

“Yeah,” You scoff. “But then I can’t sleep anyway so I train instead. But clearly, you knew that.” You widen your eyes at him. “Clears my head. Sometimes I can sleep a little after.”

“Same nightmares as before?”

“With the added attack of the tower, Gar dying. Lots of me dying, lots of me being the one who kills you and Gar. I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry.” Jason apologizes and he wants to do something that’ll help but he doesn’t know what. Not anything outside the routine you had fallen into at the tower. “Hey, uh, as long as you try to fucking sleep, you can always come into my room when you have a nightmare. I can read to you like before.” Jason offers, going back to his food to intentionally avoid looking at you.

You adore him with every piece of you. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear the sun revolved around him. “Thanks, Jay. Might have to take you up on it.” You laugh softly. “How’re yours?”

“Who said I’m having nightmares?”

You shrug. “Just have a feeling.” You’ve had texts from him at all hours of the day and night. If he weren’t having nightmares, he’d be sleeping at some point.

Jason sucks in a breath. “Same shit. Deathstroke. Someone chasing me around the manor with a gun. They shoot me and I wake up before I die, I guess. Shit's fucked.” Jason lets out a scoff.

“I’m sorry.” You nudge his leg with her knee and a sense of worry comes over you. That’s a new nightmare and you wonder if it’s getting worse instead of better. “My room will always be open for you, too.” You offer a soft smile.

“Thanks.” Jason chuckles softly.

“You and me.” You go back to your food and Jason swears he only ever wants it to be him and you.

“You and me.” Jason repeats.

As you and Jason finish your conversation, Bruce comes home. He greets you with a kind smile and a hello. He asked how the flight was. You explain that it was good and you’re very thankful and appreciative that he is allowing you to stay at the Manor. You’re still pretty sure it’s just a favor to Jason and not just out of the kindness of his heart. But, you’ll definitely take what you can get. Gotham is home and this is allowing you to be home, with your best friend.

The rest of the day goes by and you find yourself exploring the Manor with Jason until Bruce Bruce needed Jason for something Batman-related. So, you got to occupy yourself for some of the day. You did text Gar and let him know you landed and everything was good. You promised you’d keep in touch. This is nice though. There’s something that feels so good about it and you actually feel a little more at ease. You felt at home enough in San Francisco, at the tower with everyone, but not like this. This feels like it will be home again in such a specific way. It makes you so happy.

Later that night, Jason finds you in the living room, scrolling through your phone. He’s just gotten back from patrol with Bruce and it didn’t go too well. And the only thing he wants to do is sit down with you, forget about it entirely. And you’re completely oblivious to him standing in the doorway. But, he has a soft smile daunting his face. He’s so happy to have you here. The world doesn’t feel so heavy with you here now.

“Hey.” Jason greets you, plopping down right beside you, nearly sitting on you.

“Excuse the fuck outta you.” You snap your head in his direction, but you don’t move away. You get a look at a purple bruise hugging his jaw and blues circling his right eye, kissing the skin.

“What’re you doing?” Jason questions, looking over at your phone.

You jerk your phone away, furrowing your brows at him. He’s so nosy. “Well, I was scrolling through Instagram until you sat on me.”

“I didn’t sit on you, I sat next to you.” Jason smirks at you.

“Your big ass thigh is literally on my leg.” You point to him barely on you. You poke his leg, hard, and he doesn’t move, just laughs. His leg is strong against yours, it nearly hurts your finger with the poke.

“Are you complaining?” His eyes darken and he’s giving you that troubled smirk of his that sets your entire body on fire.

“You’re heavy, yes.” You shove him with a laugh and Jason barely even moves.

“Seriously, you have got to do better than that, babe.”

“Fine.” You yank your leg from him with very little effort and swing both of your legs over him, leaning your back against the arm of the couch.

“That did so much.” Jason chortles. He rests his hands on your shins, tapping with his thumbs and you shake your head.

Jason’s been…touchy today. The two of you have always joked and played chicken with each other. You’re always the chicken. But, today, he’s very touchy. When walking around the Manor, he'd reach for your hand or put his hand on the small of your back to guide you through the courtyard. And you don’t mind but you’re wondering why that is. What changed in the month you’ve been a part that Jason is suddenly touchy? And Jason knows he’s doing it. A part of him is doing it because it’s just you. He doesn’t have to worry about overstepping his best friend anymore. You can play this game the way Jason likes to play. A little more contact, make the game of chicken a little more thrilling. And the other part of him, wants to see where it’ll actually go. For real this time, despite everything.

“But I have won because this is comfortable.” You give him a large toothy grin and Jason does that crooked smile, where he’s almost biting his bottom lip, like he’s thinking something mischievous. And you swear he’s the prettiest person you've ever met.

Jason leans forward, plucking the book off the coffee table in front of the two of you. You watch him carefully over your phone. Jason lifts his legs up, yours still on top of his, and rests his feet on the coffee table before opening the book where he has a piece of paper as a book mark. The bruise on his jaw shines against the low light, moving with his jaw as he swallows. You find yourself thinking you like the way the bruises always look on his skin. He looks perfect even with the blacks and blues and purples and reds. But, the other part of you, hates that he’s covered in bruises. He never should be.

You sit all the way up and move closer to him, placing your fingers on his jaw. Jason’s heart stutters in his chest but he lets you finish. You turn his face so you can get a look at the bruises that hug his jaw and paint his opposite eye. Your touch is so gentle and tender, Jason isn’t sure if he’d ever get used to it. It’s been so long since he’s felt this, he almost wants to jump right out of his skin. But, he doesn’t dare move because despite his better judgement, he likes when you’re like this. It’s a side of you no one else ever really get to see and it makes him feel wanted.

“What happened?” You ask softly.

Jason is like a graphite drawing, small details in colored pencil. Messy and decorated with shades of blues and purples. But beautiful and soft. Despite the messy smudges and the accidental hard edges and hand prints, he’s so beautiful. He is this beautiful graphite masterpiece that you think should be on display everywhere. There is an effortless about him and ease about him. He pays those purple and blue splotches no mind as the corner of his mouth quirks into his signature grin. He’s so unbothered and pretty. The graphite isn’t damaged or too messy, the smudges make him…him.

“Dickweed got a few lucky hits in.” Jason scoffs and there’s a tiny bit of arrogance that flashes across his eyes. “Got ‘em back though.” Jason wiggles his brows and you brush your thumb over the bruise on his jaw line before shaking your head.

“Of course you did.” You laugh softly, pulling your hand away and Jason just almost grabs your hand back.

You knew you missed him. That was obvious every single day. A coldness came over like the first cold front of the winter. Expected but disappointing anyway. You didn’t know you missed this much. You had no idea you gave him this part of yourself and he took it back to Gotham with him. You think of the Iron Giant, how when he blew up and parts of himself went everywhere, his parts echoed, finding home. You think that’s how your heart is with him. He has a part of it, maybe without even knowing, and your heart beats and aches until you’re with him. You never realized that’s what the pain was until now, now that’s it gone.

You, instead of going back to his face, wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into you. The hug catches him off guard, you hug him but there’s usually some bigger reason behind it. Deathstroke, almost dying twice, leaving, meeting again. There’s usually something bigger there but Jason doesn’t get the sense that’s what this hug is for. So, he reaches up and hugs you back.

You scare him. Jason Todd is not supposed to be scared of anything and lately fear has been taking over his life. And he’s scared of you, but not in that petrifying and paralyzing way that’ll get him killed one day. He’s scared because you’ve been here before and he backed out. He pushed and ran and then you ran. You’re runners and pushers, it’s embedded so tightly through your DNA, Jason doesn’t think anything would ever stop either of you. And he’s so scared to let himself exist with you in the way he so desperately wants to. He could never handle you leaving him and he couldn’t handle hurting you. So, he pulls away, not too far, but enough to look at you.

“What’s up?” Jason asks, his eyes darting over your face and his expression is careful, desperate not to give away the ache of his chest.

You shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek. “Can’t hug you?”

“Always got a reason.” The corner of his mouth twitches up but it’s sad. If someone hugs him, even you, there’s usually a reason.

”I just missed you.” You shrug your shoulders with ease.

Jason can feel the heat creeping onto his face. “You’ve said like six fucking times today.” Jason lets out this laugh that you swear is better than any sound you’ve ever heard before. “I knew you wanted me, but fuck.”

“Shut the fuck up.” You let out a groan but you can’t get the smile to fall from your face. “Want you.” You scoff. “You’re the one who wants me.”

The smirk dances across Jason’s face. “Babe, if I wanted you, I’d have you.”

“Yeah, okay.” You roll your eyes. “Like to see you fucking try, Jay.” You taunt and there’s nothing hold you back from it now. You aren’t a Titan right now. There’s no Gar or Rose. It’s literally just the two of you for the first time since you’ve known each other. And you see Jason pause and you’ve won. “Mhm, exactly. I win.” You hum triumphantly, leaning back against the arm of the couch and Jason doesn’t take losing gently.

If this is game you want to play, he’ll play ball. No one else is here anyway. Jason gets this darkness that crosses his eyes and you do is smile to yourself proudly, going back to looking at your phone. You’re positive, for once, he doesn’t have a come back. But, Jason sticks his finger in his book and stretches his right arm out, grabbing the collar of your hoodie and pulling you forward, bringing you an inch from his face.

Your eyes nearly bug out of your head, your breath catches in the very back of your throat. You swear you can taste your heartbeat in your mouth. Your stomach flips upside down, your bones feel like they’re turning to jell-o. How the fuck does he do that? His eyes are forest green in the low light of the living room and you swears it’s your favorite color now. That specific shade of green that should be named after Jason, himself.

Jason’s eyes dart between your eyes and your lips, he’s doing it on purpose. Jason does everything with intention. Impulsive? Yes. But, he has a purpose for everything that he does. He’s careful even when he’s impulsive.

“Mhm, exactly.” Jason’s voice is low, mocking you.

You finally let out a breath and look to his lips. For a split second, just a fraction of a second, you knows that if you close that distance, he loses. You’re picking up this game of chicken as if no time has passed and it feels like no time has passed. It feels like it did before Gar, before Rose, before Deathstroke. It feels like it did before shit hit the fan. And you know if you do something about it now, you’ll win. And you want to do it so badly, but you aren’t sure you want to be the one to do it this time. And, you like the cocky and arrogant smirk he gets when he wins.

“Fuck you.” You finally get the bitter words out of your mouth and Jason’s grin switches to cockiness, a triumphant win he doesn’t realize was handed to him.

Jason lets go of the collar of your hoodie, you falling back against the arm of the couch. “I win.”

“You’re so obnoxious.” You let out a whine and Jason sees the genuine smile pulling at the right side of your mouth.

“Just the way you like me.” Jason chortles, leaning back in his seat.

You almost tell him. But, you don’t think you actually have to. The both of you know. Neither of you are that obvious. You both already know there’s more here. Jason saw the way you were with Gar compared to how you are with him and he’s not so oblivious to not realize why even if it’s hard to believe. And you saw how he was with Rose, he’s different with you and Jason doesn’t let just anyone in. But you both do nothing about it because of fear and this is easier. The game you play, knowing something will happen sooner or later. This is easier than the conversations of risking the other breaking each other’s hearts. Taking those pieces of each other and the other tossing them into the river to drown. The risk is just a little too much for both of you right now and you don’t need the talk to know.

Jason looks down at his book before looking back to you. “Wanna watch something?”

Your brows furrow as you shake your head, as if to be doing a double-take of his words. “You? Wanna watch a movie?” You look up at him.

“Haven’t watched anything in a while.” Jason offers the softest of shrugs, trying to brush it off. He wants to watch something because that’s your thing.

“I always want to watch something.” You chew the inside of your cheek. “What’d ya have in mind?”

“You pick.” Jason chuckles, putting the piece of paperback in the book before tossing it onto the coffee table.

“I have suddenly forgotten every movie I have ever watched in my entire life.” You blink at him and Jason can’t help but laugh.

“Well, scroll.” Jason leans over you to grab the remote from the table beside the armrest.

He’s leaning over you, a little too close and your heart thunders. You can smell his soap on him and a hint of what you swear his in cologne he’d wear at the tower. A smile pulls at your lips, thinking that is a weird thing to put on after a shower at three in the morning. It’s such a Jason thing to do and you really do just adore him. Jason grabs the remote, hovering just above you with a wild grin and he did it on purpose.

“Here.” Jason states with ease, seeing the gentle expression of fluster across your face.

“Getting pretty close there, Jay.” You whisper, blinking at him and you take a page out of his book, actively glancing between his eyes and lips.

“You were in the way.” Jason doesn’t move and he can feel his stomach twist and turn.

“Right, could have asked me to grab the remote.” You put your hand on his, intentionally stalling as you grab the remote, keeping your eyes on him.

“Could have.” Jason shrugs a shoulder and he almost rests his forehead against yours because he can see your eyes darting across his face. But, it's you who do it first.

You can't help it. He gets close and it's the only thing you ever want, to keep him as close to you as long as possible. You feel warm when he's this close and the second he backs away, you’re cold again and you hate being cold. And Jason's entire brain is short-circuiting. Half of him is screaming 'do it' over and over again. It's screaming and banging at the inner walls of his mind, suffocating nearly every other reasonable thought he could possibly have. Then, there's the other part that thinks it's too soon even if he so desperately wants to cave to the voices in his head. And he is almost terrified of what would happen if he were the one to actually do it this time.

“Did you put on cologne?” You question him because one of you has to say something eventually and you decide, you'll do something if he has one of his usual quips. You pull away just enough to look at him and his eyes shoot wide open.

“No.” He scoffs, heat creeping up his neck as he finally back away. He didn’t think you’d notice.

You chuckle softly as you start to feel the cold creep over your bones. You were hoping he'd have a quip. “Okay, sure.” You shrug, looking at the TV and you can still feel your heart in your throat. “Smells good.” Jason gains a soft smile with your words as he watches you look at the TV.

You start scrolling through the home page, just in case anything sparks your interest. You look up in the corner to see if it says which profile it is. The picture is a picture of Jason, not smiling at the camera and the photo is simple but you think it’s cute. So, you scroll comfortably and naturally see one of the Saw movies recommended followed by Human Centipede and you cringe with the sight of the movie. The Walking Dead is under Jason’s continue watching, he’s on season 2 and you smile. Jason doesn’t watch TV but he’s watching one of your shows.

“Oh! Here.” You click a movie and look at Jason excitedly.

“Yeah…?” Jason chuckles softly and adoration bubbles in his stomach because he loves when you go on little movie rants.

“Happy Death Day.”

“Happy Death Day?” Jason nods. “Am I supposed to know what the fuck that is?”

“One of the best movies ever!” You yell excitedly and Jason loves when you get excited over movies. There’s an innocence about it. You’re anything but innocent so when you’re like this, Jason really likes it. “Groundhog Day?”

Jason shakes his head, looking at you with more confusion. “Which is?”

“Groundhog Day is a movie where the character repeats the same day over and over again.”

“Ugh.” Jason groans, tossing his head back against the back of the couch. “You like those movies?!”

“No! I don’t like Groundhog Day, that’s not my point. I like this movie.” You laugh. “She has to repeat the same day over and over until she finds her killer.”

“Oh, she just gets do-overs.”

“Yep, because Tree is a final girl and she’s a fun one, too.” You grin up at him. “Have I ever steered you wrong?” You offer him a pitiful pout and Jason nearly rolls his eyes into oblivion.

“No, you fucking haven’t.” Jason groans. You’re usually right but then he remembers something you did have him do once. “Actually, no that’s a lie. Remember that time you told me it was a good idea to use one of those smoke canons things on Dick while he made his coffee.” Jason reminds you and you nearly laugh yourself into a fit of tears.

“It was a good idea! He was pissed, he spilled coffee everywhere! There was blue dust covering the entire kitchen! He was blue for days! It was worth it.”

It was about three weeks after Dick had brought you back to the tower. Jason wanted to get Dick back for something stupid that happened in training. He had the bright idea to use one of the smoke canons they use for parties that are supposed to be non-toxic. He went to you, asking if it was a good idea or if he should think of something even better. You did not take long to tell him it was a great idea. You pictured Dick covered in blue smoke that would probably stain and he’d look like the guy from Big Fat Liar. That was enough for you to think it was a great idea.

Dick did not think so. Jason snuck into the kitchen, behind Dick and hid behind the counters before popping out and shooting one of the canons at Dick. Dick’s coffee mug hit the ground, shattering while coffee spilled everywhere. And he was covered in blue smoke. You were in the living, laughing so hard you started choking. Jason’s laugh bounced off of every wall and Dick wanted to yell because what the fuck? It was five in the morning. And this what he’s dealing with. Dick wasn’t actually mad though, not at first because it took a little bit of dedication for Jason to pull it off and for you to be awake at five in the morning. He stood there, completely silent as if to be questioning every life choice he’s made that lead him to that exact moment before finally muttering “I’m not cleaning this” and Jason immediately said he would through his fit of laughter.

It was after the shower that Dick was not happy. You were right, it did stain and he did look like the guy from Big Fat Liar. He still wasn’t that mad but he was going to dish out something because now he’s blue. Jason swore up and down it was worth it. And Gar and Rachel got a good laugh out of it, too. Rachel didn’t even want to think it was funny but Dick was in the training room trying to be so serious about something but none of you could take him seriously with a face as blue as Blue from Blue’s Clues.

“I got double chores for a week!” Jason yells.

“Well, it was a good idea for me. I got a good fucking laugh out of it and you had to pick up some my chores. So, I did not steer you wrong. I steered you exactly where I wanted you.”

All Jason can do is blink at you, he wants to laugh. You’re just as conniving as he is. You do it differently and he’ll definitely be getting you back for that.

“Yeah, don’t think you thought that far ahead.”

“Oh, didn’t I?” You wiggle your brows at him.

“No.” Jason states but his word is slightly unsure.

“Guess you’ll never know.” You shrug cheekily, looking back to the TV and you change the subject before Jason can dispute the discussion “Hey, Jay.”

“No, fuck you.” Jason scoffs, the corners of his mouth perking up.

“You should get me a blanket.” You offer a toothy, pleading smile.

“Do I look like a fucking maid to you?”

“I don’t think you want me to answer that.” You snicker to yourself and it takes everything in Jason not to start laughing and immediately get up to get you a blanket.

“Fuck you, no!” Jason huffs, you’ll be the death of him, he swears it.

“Please.” You lean forward, pouting your bottom lip. “It’s chilly.”

“It’s fucking July.” Jason’s voice booms as he finally lets the laugh slip.

“And three in the morning.” You bat your eyes at him.

“You’re so annoying.” Jason scoffs, moving your legs off him before he gets up.

“Maybe so, but you think it’s cute.”

“Do I?” Jason quips, you can see his canines through his fake scowl. He’s cute when he pretends to be mad. And Jason always thinks you’re cute, even when you’re not trying to be.

“Of course you do.” You hold your head up. “I think you’re cute.”

“Alright, shut up, pause the damn movie. What blanket you want?”

“Doesn’t matter, your pick.” Your smile turns soft and Jason nods his head slowly before turning around and heading down the hallway.

They say home is where the heart is. Jason thought that was a load of shit. His heart has belonged to several people, several places. His home, the library, his mom, his uncle, Bruce. He swore if home were a place, it would not just be the thing he loves. It would be a place he felt safe and comfortable, where he didn’t always have to look over his shoulder. It would be a place where he didn’t feel like he needed to hide a tire iron under his pillow or a baseball bat under his bed. He wouldn’t feel like he needs to hide food around the house, just to make sure he always has a stash, just in case. It would be a place of comfort and safety and peace. But, he’s walking to his room to grab a blanket for you and he thinks he feels more at home now than he ever has before. Jason pretends like he doesn’t know why that is, even if it’s chewing and biting and tugging the very center of his chest.

“Here’s your damn blanket.” Jason comes back, tossing it over your head.

“Hey!” You yell, pulling the blanket away. Jason lets out a soft laugh as he plops down beside you once more. “Rude.”

“I got the blanket.” Jason quips back. “You gonna share?”

“It’s JuLy.” You mock him while you swing your legs back over his. You spread the blanket over your legs, covering Jason, too.

Jason gains a grin looking back at you and you play the movie. The movie plays for a few minutes, before you break the silence and you think maybe Jason’s rubbed off on you because now you can’t shut up. You ignore the feeling that maybe it’s because you haven’t talked like this in a month. You ignore that maybe it’s just you missing him.

“You seem comfortable here.” You state, looking over him.

“Yeah,” Jason nods his head. “Gotham is fucking shitshow, but like you said, it’s home.” He shrugs a shoulder, a fond smile on his lips.

“Yeah.” You agree with him.

“You seem comfortable here, too. It’s your first day but you seem like you’ve been living here as long as I have.”

You offer him a kind smile. “Yeah…it feels nice. I like it here.” You think maybe you could feel comfortable anywhere as long as Jason is there.

He always offers a different type of comfort than Gar ever did. Gar offered comfort, it’s just different with Jason. He offers it with quips rather than tender words and kind touches. He offers it with sarcasm and fire in his bones. Gar offered it with softness and gentle words. Jason offers comfort in a way that makes you feel understood.

Jason moves his legs from under you and slide his on the couch, maneuvering himself to lean against the back of the couch, partially on you so he can lie down with his elbow holding his head up. The exhaustion of lack of sleep and patrol is finally catching up with him. He’s not sure if he could hold his head up much longer just sitting up. And you smile at him, a soft and loving smile.

“Tired?” You ask.

“I’m fine.” Jason answers and you think maybe it’s a reflex, to always say he’s fine. You hope he breaks the habit and chooses honesty one day.

“Mhm.” You roll your eyes. “Just lay down, I’m not gonna fucking bite you.”

“You do give biter vibes.” Jason huffs and you tap the top of his head. “Hey!” Jason lets out a laugh, looking up at you.

“I don’t bite people!” You glare at him before a flash of teasing comes across your eyes. “Well…not like this.”

Jason smirks. “Oh, that’s what you’re into? Yeah, that tracks.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Jay?”

Jason laughs loudly. “Nothing.” Jason continues to snicker.

“Maybe I will bite you.” You mutter.

“You can bite me in that context all you fuckin want, babe.”

Your words jumble in your mouth like they’re all rushing out once and caused a traffic jam. How does he always do that?

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” You quip and the response catches Jason off guard. He’s surprised you had a comeback.

“Wouldn’t be a threat.” Jason fires back.

“Lay down.” You roll your eyes and and stretch out your arms, welcoming him to lay with you. You think your smile might be stuck on your face like glue.

Jason smiles softly to himself and he does as told, scotting up closer to you, resting his head between your chest and stomach. You’re the only person he’s ever felt comfortable enough to lay like this with.

A kind warmth fills your stomach with the butterflies swarming around. He’s so soft. He’s so soft and he’s so good. He deserves everything good to happen to him. Jason being rough around the edges but soft around you. It makes you want to melt right into the floor. He’s fucking cute. And you lift your hand, tangling your fingers in his hair, spinning his curls around her finger. Jason hums and he doesn’t remember the last time someone played with his hair but it’s nice. It’s relaxing and you just keeps doing it while the movie plays, absentmindedly enjoying the closeness. The both of you could easily get used to this.

prev. chapter | next chapter

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

Tag list: @fairyofshampoo // @italiana-20 // @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @mayfieldss // @ghostkingblake // @im-done-with-this-im-out // @velvetskies // @lilylovelyxo // @cryinghotmess // @yesimwriting // @vivian-555 // @anthemabby // @baebeepeach // @legend-o-zelda // @harleycao // @somehow-lovable-trash // @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx // @deyja-the-duck // @jasontoddslover

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

199 notes · View notes