Moonlight
Moonlight
PAIRINGS:
Titans!Jason todd x reader
SUMMARY:
Bruce has taken in Jason Todd as his youngest son and the new robin some months ago, Bruce’s goddaughter also came back to Gotham after being away for a year.
Some months after meeting Jason she starts a friends with benefits relationship with him, suddenly Jason has to move to the Titans tower and two weeks later Bruce sends her too, but, why is Jason ignoring her and acting like he doesn’t know her and why does it get worse when Rose Wilson arrives to the tower??
A/N: in this story Dick and Jason will not have such a big age gap as they do in the show, Dick will be 23 while Jason will be 19, but for the sake of the plot it will, also ignore that there’s already a dc character called moonlight, also the powers I made up for her make no sense at all but we’ll have to deal with it.
TWS: slow burn, angst, blood, canon violence, mentions of death, anxiety, jealousy, friends to friends with benefits to enemies to lovers?, maybe death of a main character (haven’t decided yet) change of plot
Keep in mind that English is not my first language, I also know nothing about guns, human anatomy or fighting in the language so I'm sorry if I make a lot of mistakes
Story Masterlist / Main Masterlist
Superman by Eminem was playing as the car Bruce sent to get you from the airport approached the gothic styled manor you hadn't seen in a year or so, the way everything looked the same brought you a sense of comfort, you knew Dick wasn’t Robin anymore, you were really close to Dick and he had told you all about how Bruce was a bad father and how he didn’t want to become him, you understood him, although you couldn’t help but feel bad for Bruce, you knew he was trying his best and he may not have been the best father, but he was a great godfather, it probably was because he wasn’t 100% responsible of you, he didn’t have to teach you about emotions, life, problems, or shit like that, he just had to spoil you and talk to you, so it was probably easier for him.
As you grew closer to the manor you noticed that Bruce and Alfred were already waiting for you by the door with some guy, he looked a little bit younger than you, but not too much, you couldn’t see him very well from the distance, but he seemed to be in casual clothes so you assumed he lived here, he was probably another stray that Bruce took in after Dick left so you paid it no mind. Eventually you arrived to the mansion and you could cry, it had been a year since you had last seen Bruce and Alfred, it had been a year since your dad had died, he was the only parent you ever knew, your mom wasn’t a deadbeat who abandoned you or anything like that, but she wasn’t “normal” she had special abilities (which you also have) that you didn’t know were special until you showed them to a boy in kindergarten and made him cry out of fear, at that moment you didn’t get why the boy had cried when you just tried to show him how your hands could glow, you then got a long talk from your mom about how most people don’t have the same abilities as you, therefore you have to keep them a secret, otherwise people would be scared or even worse it would put you at risk because there were bad people who wanted those abilities for themselves. You learned to take the talk seriously when your mom got killed by some scientist who wanted to have her powers and it was all thanks to not hiding them too well, leaving your dad and yourself on your own.
The sound of the car’s door opening pulled you out of your thoughts, and you immediately started getting off the car, you started walking towards the entrance of the Manor and all of the memories came flooding back making you emotional, you approached Bruce and just crashed into him with a hug, he became stiff, but he tried to comfort you as you cried in his arms, you hadn’t seen him ever since your dad had died, you had ran away from your problems and went to Europe for a year thinking it would help, but it didn’t, you were completely alone at Europe, at least here in Gotham you had Bruce and Dick and Alfred, you weren’t completely alone, but over there you were, and it just made you realize how much you missed and appreciated them.
When you calmed down, you moved on to Alfred who looked just as neat as always and also hugged him tight, after all Alfred reminded you of a loving grandfather and always gave you comfort, Alfred pulled away and excused himself to bake your favorite desserts, just like he always did whenever you were sad, it all felt so familiar that you felt comfort for the first time in a year. After hugging Bruce and Alfred and breaking down you realized there was still a boy who probably didn’t know who you were and had to witness you being a mess as his first impression of you, poor boy probably would be really uncomfortable after seeing a stranger come into his house and break down while he just stood there, the thought of it made you feel embarrassed making the atmosphere really awkward as you just stood staring at each other not knowing what to do, or say, Bruce took on the tense atmosphere and started introducing you to each other in hopes that the tension would fade away. You learned that his name was Jason Todd and he had just gotten taken in a year ago, some months after you left for Europe, Bruce also told you about how he found him and how he was now the new Robin, Jason have you a short nod as his way of saying hi and then Bruce started telling him about you, he told Jason about your abilities and how you were the vigilante known as moonlight which made Jason look excited, Bruce seeing Jason’s reaction told you how he was a fan of Robin and Moonlight and it sparked a bit of pride inside of you, but then made you feel embarrassed as you realized you had probably disappointed the boy by showing him how weak you actually were.
After the introductions finished, Alfred came out telling you all to get inside and to let you go to your room and accommodate, which you thanked him, You loved Bruce and Jason seemed nice, but you were exhausted after flying and you just wanted to get some rest, Alfred guided you to your room as if you hadn’t bern there a thousand times and insisted on carrying your luggage for you even though you said you could handle it.
“Here we are Miss (Y/N), you already know where Master Bruce’s and my rooms are in case you need anything, and if you ever need Master Jason his room is the one that’s right in front of yours in Master Dick’s old room .”
You thanked Alfred who excused himself and went to the kitchen and you decided you were too tired to unpack and that you would do it tomorrow, so you took the book you were reading and your headphones out of your bag and laid down to read a bit, you were really tired and after some pages your eyes started to get really heavy and you felt yourself drifting off to sleep.
taglist:
@fairyeoll @singitoutgirl26
More Posts from Whydoyoucare866 and Others
First choice : Jason Todd x fem!reader
Summary: you don;t know what you have until it's (almost) gone.
A/N: this is lightly based on one particular scene from "little women". If you watched it, you'll know.
Warnings: usual Jason ones - swearing and a bit of angst. Apart from that fluff.
***
„Don’t leave with him.”
„I’m sorry?”
“Don’t. Leave. With. him.”
“And why exactly shouldn’t I?” Y/n crossed her arms over her chest, putting down the t-shirt she was folding before packing it into the suitcase. She was supposed to leave Gotham. Most probably – for good.
And she was not doing this alone.
She was about to go with Tom, the guy she met a couple months ago at work. At first, there was nothing but friendly feeling between them, but he clearly wanted more. So once he got a promotion and was posted to the branch of the company, he went as far as asking the CEO to second Y/N with him. And that got the girl slowly falling for Tom as well and convinced her to give him a chance. Since then, they have been on a couple dates and shared some innocent kisses but this acquaintance was promising. Finally Y/N found someone who would treat her right, who would give her peace, unlike the bats. Of course she loved all the Waynes , but it was a nervous lifestyle and it was slowly taking toll on her health.
And that’s how Y/N ended up picking up her clothes, getting ready to take off and leave everyone and everything behind.
Leaving Jason.
“Why Jace?” she repeated scanning his face “Tom likes me and I like him. Maybe we can work things out between us. Shit, I hope we work things out, cause he might be my only chance for getting in a good relationship.”
“That is bullshit!” Jason exclaimed “You know that! That fucker is doing nothing more than encircling you like a prey! You mean nothing to him.”
“How dare you?!” she took a few steps towards him raising hand, almost slapping him across the face but stopping in the last second. “Nah.” Her eyes flashed “that’s what you want, isn’t it? You play your games, you want to mess with my head. Well, it’s not gonna work.”
“You’re gonna die out of boredom with him. He doesn’t know a single thing about you. For your last birthday he bought you a ticket to the rap show! You hate rap! And one time he took to the restaurant with sea food, which you are allergic to! He’s ordinary! And you know you need thrill! You need night actions! You need working with Babs, with bats, with Red. That’s who you are. ” Before she could move away he grabbed her wrist in an iron clad grip. “
“Let go of me.” She hissed warningly
“No.”
“I said…. Let. Go. Of. Me.”
“And I said no.” their eyes met and this war of nerves and tensed gazes made them both shiver. It was like a lightning between them. The question was, who was going to give in first. “I can’t do that……” he whispered
“Why?!” she cried out “Why are you trying to destroy my only chance for happiness?!”
“Your …. Only chance? Fuck! Y/N are you serious!?”
“YES! For God’s sake, you do nothing but cause havoc! It’s been like that for our whole life!” she yanked free of his hold and moved a few steps back.
“You deserve someone better!”
“Huh. Really? Someone like you, Jason? Someone who will give my heart attacks every night? Someone who will make me worried and creating scenarios of getting hurt, injured, captured or killed? Someone who will ignore me, cut me out, won’t talk to me, keep me in the dark?”
“Princess.”
“Stop calling me that….” She sobbed and started punching his chest. “Why can’t you just let go?”
“You know why….”
“You are being mean. This is not fair!”
“How am I being unfair here?!” he shouted “ME? How can you even say that? I’ve spend half of my life loving you and yet, I’ve always been a second choice for you! How do you think that feels?!”
“What…..? But….?” She stuttered but now he was on the roll.
“Let me remind you. You were 20 when the first guy broke your heart and …..”
“You broke my heart first!”
“What…..?” now it was his turn to stutter
“I cried at your funeral, Jason! I mourned you after you got buried! I was in deep depression for months. Don’t you think that leaves a scar?!”
“But I came back. I came back to you!”
“It doesn’t mean anything! It’s in the past. It’s too late. And don’t say you care, cause you are just acting selfish, as always.”
‘No. No princess. This is not how this Is gonna go. If you need a memory refresher, here we go. When your first boyfriend broke your heart, who was it that hold you, hugged you and did not let go for the whole night you were crying on the couch? Who was there for you? Say it!”
“You were.”
“Yes. And then the next day you were just acting like nothing happened. You run back to him the second he called to apologize. Don’t you think that hurt me?”
“Jace….”
“And every other time when you were broken, scared, worried, shaking in fear or pain who was there for you? Who picked up the pieces? And even then you were always looking up to Dick! My freaking brother! Tell me something, Y/N” he came closer, and she had no way to run, cornered, “why am I always second best for you? Why?”
“Fuck!” she yelled and without any hesitation pushed herself into him locking his lips, letting all the anger, passion and craving for him out. At first he was taken aback, a bit, and the first thought that came to his mind was that he was going to end up alone and played by her again, but the way her body aligned with his, so damn close, so damn perfect got him crumbling. Out of instinct, he took a step forward, trapping her between the wall and his body, grasping her neck and tangling hand in her soft hair, the other gripping her hip pulling her closer. “you were never….” She gasped pulling for air “you were never second….. fuck, Jason.” Y/N fisted his jacket with a mix of anger and frustration.
“Don’t leave with him” he begged caressing her back, desperate to keep her with him, desperate enough to swallow his pride and get on his knees “I don’t want you to leave. Please Y/N. Stay. Stay with me.” He nudged her nose with his, mouth hanging open, brushing over hers, so damn close, wanting nothing but to kiss her again, but at the same time unable to.
‘I’m tired of playing games, Jace…..” she whispered closing her eyes.
“This is not a game, you know it….”
“Then say it. Say it to prove it to me.”
“I love you. I’ve always loved you. But I was so scared of this feeling. For so fucking long.”
“And now….?”
“Now I want you. If you’ll take me…’ he couldn’t hide that pleading tone in his voice. He was begging her to want him, to need him. So desperate to not be tossed away like a used cloth, to not be forgotten and abandoned, not again. He begged her to love him back.
“I will.” Tears started falling down her cheeks. “I…. I will….I love you too, Jace…..” She sobbed and her whole body shook because of that. “But….” She swallowed hard and took a sharp inhale “Promise me you won’t hurt me. Promise me you won’t break my heart. Promise me you’ll love me right and won’t hide things from me….. please….I don’t want to be hurt again…..”
“Oh, baby….” He wrapped his strong arms around her, engulfing her in his warmth, hiding his own tear-stained face in her hair, kissing her head repeatedly. Only now he realized that they were both equally broken, life in Gotham and their past making them so similar. They were both scared of being alone, unloved. Having that belief that all life would offer them was scraps. “I swear. I swear to you……” he struggled to say those words because of the lump in his throat. ”you are my first choice too….” Jason added and her arms tightened around his waist. “will you stay now?”
“Yes….” She pulled back and looked into his eyes, filled with hope, relief, love and care, just like hers. “I’ll deal with tom later, but now… can you just hold me like this more? I need this. I need you.”
“You have me, baby. I’m yours. And don’t worry about a thing. I’ll take care of the man who wanted to take you away from me…..”
“I seriously hope that’s not a death threat, Red.” She laughed lightly and it was the prettiest sound Jason ever heard.
“Can’t make any promises on that…..”
002-clinically insane
ex!suna rintarou x singer!reader
mt list
previous | next
more of this SMAU bc i have no social life WOO
so apparently according to my past self neither osamu nor atsumu have ever been in a relationship with a sane person
they just like their girls a little bit insane
y/n loves flirting with omi even if he never reciprocates, she does it to mess with his brother
atsumu is 100% against her dating his best friend after seeing how it turned out when she dated osamus best friend
y/n hasnt visited the twins apartment in a year because shes scared shell run into suna
im trying to make atsumu a lovable brother, because everyone always makes him annoying and i love atsumu :(
osamu changed the topic to his ex on purpose, he knew suna would get really sulky if they started talking about y/n in a serious way
y/n is a bit cray cray but its okay cause suna luvs it
taglist (OPEN):
@lvc-lv @renardiererin @3lectraheart @nyxlai
you’re so welcome <33
Emergency Contact
Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Reader
Leave me something - or let me out. I'm starving. Push me, pull me. Waiting for the start of:
Things that I want, this happily ever after. You choke on your words, but you swallow them faster. Just want you to be my Emergency Contact.
Summary:
After Jason miraculously comes home from his brush with Deathstroke, you're both feeling it in very different ways. You have an unexpected physical wound from the battle, and he has many (very expected) emotional wounds. You help each other heal. Even if it's very stubborn on both your parts.
Jason Todd x GN!Powered!Reader. Enemies/FWB to Lovers. Angst and Hurt/Comfort. (Slight Smut). Set during Season 2, Episode 5.
Word Count: 10,400
Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link
If you want to be notified whenever I post a new fic, make sure to follow my library blog @sundropslibrary and turn on notifications there.
List of detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.
Warnings: general emotional angst, Jason has a self deprecating inner dialogue, (kind of) enemies to lovers - more like annoyances to fuck buddies to lovers, friends with benefits to lovers, the reader and Jason have a bantering/argumentative nature to their relationship, the reader is meant to be 100% gender neutral (the reader is never referred to in the third person, so there is no need to use they/them pronouns, but the reader is not called she/her or he/him), Jason calls the reader ‘babe’ (imo, a completely gender neutral term and he would call anybody that), mentions of alcohol (Jason drinking a beer), the reader character has ice powers (not entirely relevant to the plot but I couldn’t help myself lmao).
sexual themes throughout, mentions of sexting (no detailed descriptions), mentions of sexting in public, mentions of the reader character sending nudes to Jason (no detailed descriptions of the photos), one scene with detailed smut (but it is not the primary focus of the fic), the reader’s genitals are not described in any specific way, some dirty talk, Jason is more dominant and the reader is more submissive, penetrative sex, Jason is annoying even during sex, Jason has a pain kink (even when he’s a dom, he’s a painslut, I don’t make the rules), scratching/marking (Jason receiving), slight humiliation kink.
mentions of canon level violence, mentions of kidnapping (in alignment with canon), mentions of Jason being beaten by Deathstroke, mentions of Jason’s near-death experience (being dropped off the building), gun violence, the reader is injured - has a bullet wound/bullet fragment in their stomach, mentions of blood, descriptions of first-aid, mentions of puss from an infected wound (theoretically, not something that happens in the fic). That should be everything.
A/N: The title for the fic comes from a song by Pierce the Veil of the same name. It's a newer song, and it's one that I absolutely went to when looking for a title for this fic. The concept of becoming someone's emergency contact is about upgrading the relationship from casual to much more serious, and just the whole song, and specific lyrics in it suit this fic so well. I highly recommend listening to it paired with this fic.
This was based on a request from my old blog, but obvi I don't have that ask anymore - the request was about Jason getting shot and having his wound attended to by the reader, but I changed it to the reader getting shot cause I thought that was more interesting and less common. If the person who made that request sees this and finds my new blog, I hope you enjoy it! And in general, I hope everyone who reads this enjoys it.
...
If asked, you would be hard pressed to explain your relationship with Jason Todd.
The best way you could describe it would probably be - friends with benefits?
But most of the time, the two of you weren’t even friends. You weren’t the type to hang out casually, or spend time alone together if it didn’t involve ripping each other’s clothes off.
If you ever exchanged secrets or those precious bits of your most raw selves, it was by mistake. It was through sarcasm, or coming off the tired lips of someone who had just been exhausted by a few orgasms. The two of you knew each other well, quite literally inside and out. But you always made a deep, concerted effort to hold each other at arm’s length. And maybe that’s part of what all the snark and harsh words were for.
It wasn’t all arguing. You were friendly. You could be civil, at the very least.
Right from the moment you had first met Jason, you had found him to be so damn annoying, a shitstain on the earth - yet, someone you couldn’t stay away from. The line between flirtatious banter and a truly grinding argument was always so thin with the two of you.
…
You hadn’t expected that your life would be truly changed when you walked into that safehouse in Chicago that day. You truly thought nothing of him when his eyes landed on you - in those moments, a completely anonymous stranger, raking his eyes over you like you were a piece of meat. It was a gaze that immediately made you feel naked, something that made you want to smack him. You told yourself it was because he was being a pervert, not because of the heat that curled in your gut at feeling so intensely desired by him.
He had been sitting on the couch sipping a beer like he owned the place, his thighs spread wide in a way you immediately decided was arrogant and annoying rather than hot - showing off his muscle tone as if it was trying to break through his jeans. Definitely annoying. Definitely the stance of a fuckboy trying to look bigger and badder than he was. He definitely was not attractive.
When Dick led you, Rachel, Gar, and Kory further into the condo that seemed far too conspicuous to be a safehouse, the stranger you would later come to know as Jason quickly spoke up.
“Who are your friends?” He asked.
As he rose from the couch, his eyes lingered on you. Though his words seemed more out of curiosity, you couldn’t help but feel that bite of something more salacious lingering in his voice.
It caused you to scoff and roll your eyes.
“Not important.” Dick declared, his voice snippy. He was clearly annoyed with this new guy, and you could tell that your perceptions of him were definitely not ill-informed.
“Who’s he?” Kory asked, going for the obvious question.
“Not important.” Dick parroted out the words again, sounding much shorter with his patience.
“Anybody want a brew?” Jason asked, motioning with the beer bottle in his hand.
“Brew?” You twisted your eyebrows with disgust, staring him down as you commented on his odd choice of slang.
He didn’t get to reply, as you were trampled over by Gar’s enthusiastic voice in your ear.
“I do!” He said, raising his hand with excitement.
“No, you don’t.” You quickly told him, reaching out to grab his hand and put it back down. “It’s disgusting.”
You had a grand suspicion that Gar had never drank beer before, and he had no idea what he was truly asking for. Rather, he was simply taking advantage of trying new things because Dick and Kory were incredibly slack parental figures and he was away from home for the first time.
“No, no one wants a brew.” Dick sighed, shaking his head. He threw Jason a small glare and you resisted the urge to laugh.
“That can’t be Adamson.” Kory said, motioning toward Jason.
This left you confused. But you didn’t question it.
“He’s not Adamson. Adamson’s in the bathroom. Unconscious.” Dick explained.
“Hi, I’m Rachel.” Rachel told Jason, offering him a sweet smile - being her usual sweet self.
“Jason.” He introduced himself, in that moment, finally giving you a name to that obnoxious face.
“I’m Gar!” Gar said with a grin, to which Jason nodded.
Jason caught you glaring at him, and looked you up and down again, as if trying to willfully tear off your clothes with his eyes. It made your skin itch with heat and you would forever deny that it was a feeling you liked.
“What can I call you, babe?” He asked, his voice entirely slimy, the kind of tone he would have used to recite cheesy lines to Tinder dates, you were entirely sure of.
Before you could come up with some clever reply, Dick sighed in frustration and started balking again.
“Okay, who we all are doesn’t matter right now.” He pressed, his neck so entirely tense that veins began to pop from the skin. “Can we just chill out, relax, sit on the couch and watch TV or something?”
It seemed that he wouldn’t get his wish.
Gar quickly charged around the table, finding something else to get strung up about.
“Yo, when did you get another one?” He asked, putting his hands on both of the expensive cases on the long dining table - a copy identical to the one you knew to be containing Dick’s Robin outfit.
It made you curious, and the answer that followed certainly surprised you.
“That one’s mine.” Jason said, his chest literally puffing out with pride as he stated the fact.
“No way.” You scoffed.
“Yes way.” He quickly argued back, the whole exchange sounding entirely juvenile.
“This one’s yours? Wait, you’re Robin too?” Gar quickly put the pieces together.
“I thought you were Robin?” Rachel commented, tilting her head toward Dick with curiosity.
“I am.” Dick said firmly.
“He was.” Jason corrected, a cocky smirk forming across his lips.
“Batman really lowered the height requirement, huh.” You said.
The words flew from your mouth before you could stop them, seeing as it was likely the only thing you could nitpick about Jason’s appearance. Between his stunning sharp jaw, his piercing blue eyes, his oddly appealing wild hair, his muscle tone being somehow visible beneath his baggy clothing - all of it made you equally frustrated and annoyed with him, and your baser urges couldn’t resist the low-hanging fruit.
You felt victory and a slight pang of guilt when Jason deflated because of your comment, shrinking back into himself at your words.
He didn’t have anything to say in return, he simply sipped his beer.
“Wait, how many Robins are there?” Gar said, beginning to excitedly ramble at the thought. “Are there a lot? Cause I would love to-”
“Okay, quiet.” Kory cut him off, clearly becoming annoyed with all of this dancing around the point as much as Dick was. “Sit.”
Her words were firm, and you couldn’t help but to listen. You found yourself collapsing to sit on the couch while Rachel and Gar took seats at the dining table. Jason continued to linger in the middle of the room, staring at Kory and Dick as their frustration filled the air.
“Bathroom.” Kory told Dick, and then they left to deal with whoever - or whatever - Adamson was.
Jason sighed and took a seat beside you. When his eyes fell on you, you set your jaw and glared at him. You didn’t give away a single ounce of the heat you were feeling as his eyes locked with yours.
“Even if I am the shorter Robin, I can assure you that everything else about me is… very long.” He lowered his voice and whispered those last words, crowding into your personal space as he did so.
It sent shivers down your spine, his silken voice making the words sound too tempting. Even if you twisted your face and said ‘gross!’ causing him to dissolve into laughter, you didn’t make an effort to move away from him or put any space between your two bodies on the very large couch. You told yourself it was because you were tired from a very long day of travel, not because you were enjoying the smell of his strangely expensive cologne from this close by.
His grin was still entirely smug, and you couldn’t stand it.
When he raised the beer bottle up to his mouth again, you reached over and put a hand on his forearm, forcefully dragging his arm down as you made a snide comment.
“That shit is disgusting, why the hell do you drink it?” You asked.
You found your face drifting toward his again and if asked, you would say it was a form of intimidation - not that you were being drawn in by an unconscious attraction to him.
“Because I can.” He replied, just as snide as he slipped your grip and sipped on the drink.
You mocked his words in an entirely childish voice, and then you raised a single finger up to it and skimmed along the neck of the bottle. It took only a single moment of concentration with your skilled powers to freeze the beer inside solid. He thought he felt an extra chill coming off his hand, but convinced himself that he imagined it. But when he kept it tilted and nothing came out to meet his lips, he shook it and then stuck an inquiring eye inside the bottle.
When he saw that it was completely frozen, he looked over and saw you grinning, and little did you know - that was the moment he became completely taken with you. You were one of the most annoying people he had ever met, and he found himself so intensely attracted to you.
Even if it was getting under your skin by arguing with you or fucking your brains out, he knew in that moment - he had to get inside you and drive you insane the same way that he knew you would for him.
…
When Dick left to go check on his old circus friend Clay, Jason winked at you and said ‘don’t miss me too much’. You made a show of putting a finger near your mouth and audibly gagging.
Later that night, when Jason didn’t return, you hated the curl of disappointment that panged in your stomach. You wanted to hit yourself for staring at the door, waiting for the second Robin to come in behind Dick.
You hated yourself even more for replying to Jason’s texts.
Apparently he had taken your phone out of your jacket pocket when you went to the bathroom (not to see Adamson - a different bathroom, to pee). And he had put himself in your contacts as ‘Hot Guy’. He had also sent himself a text from your phone that read ‘omg Jason you’re so hot, will you fuck me?’. And then replied to it from his own phone with a picture of his cock.
Unfortunately, the only thing you could mock about the picture was poor lighting.
When you told him as much, he quickly remedied that with several more pictures - ones with better lighting. He sent a video with very distinct audio. You would deny that you rushed to put your headphones in to listen to it while you sat on the train with Kory and Gar. You would deny that it drove a hard, hot pain between your thighs.
You dug through a folder and sent some pictures of your own. You told yourself it was to prove to him that you were too good for him - to show off something he could never actually have. To tease him.
You would deny that you loved the compliments he gave you, that you ate up the affection like a plant lovingly soaking up the sun.
When you were sexting him, you had no clue that you were ever going to see him again. It was almost mindless, something for a dopamine hit to distract yourself from all the chaos going on around you. You weren’t doing it because you actually liked Jason. You didn’t have any real attractions toward him, or any real plans to carry out all of the bold things you said in those messages.
You had no clue that you’d end up living together.
When you did find out that Dick would be taking Jason into the newly reopened Titans Tower along with you, Gar, and Rachel, you didn’t make a big deal of it in your mind. When Jason made flirtatious remarks toward you in person, you brushed him off. You put up a wall.
You told yourself that he was nothing more than a cocky, shallow guy who would use you for sex and then throw you away - something you could never actually build a proper relationship with. And if you were supposed to live together, be some kind of team like Dick expected you to be, then you couldn’t be messy. You couldn’t get emotional.
You had no clue that on one of those first nights living together, your self assured discipline not to give into your lust for him would break like a wafer cookie, and you would be in his bed faster than a sea turtle running into ocean.
…
“Fuck, babe, you feel so good on my cock.” Jason grunted, his face buried in your neck as he thrusted deep inside of you. The loud squelch of artificial wetness coming from between your thighs as he worked his hips, working you open with a needy, demanding pace. “Bet you love this cock, huh? Tell me how fuckin’ much you love it.”
“Shut up.”
The words came from your throat as a weak whimper, much less powerful than you had intended.
You didn’t want to give him any more power than he already held over you - he had you weak and willing on his cock, something you would have never admitted could be true until it was happening in these moments.
Though you would never admit it aloud, you loved the way he handled you. Having you pinned against the bed with his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, having you breathless and moaning as he fucked into you with fast, obviously skilled strokes. Your nails cut into the flesh of his back, and he let out a low rumble from his gut as the sharp sting sent a wave of pleasure through him.
You hated the twinge of lustful embarrassment that curled in your gut when he chuckled at your words.
“Oh, you want me to shut up?” He asked, slightly breathless from the act himself, moving one hand beside your head to raise himself up slightly to look in your eyes.
He was sweaty, disheveled, his hair a mess, his muscles taught with the effort as he continued to pound into you. You hated that you had imagined him much like this before, and that this outlived all of your fantasies.
“Yes.” You fired back. “Just shut up and fuck me.”
He bit his lip - something you didn’t know was him trying to hold back his orgasm, so utterly turned on by your bratty defiance, the twinge of a whimper in your voice as you said those words.
“You weren’t tellin’ me to shut up when I was texting you.”
He said, all hot breath fanning across your chin, his hips spearing forward in sharp, hard hits that made your skin smack loudly together. It made you work hard to suppress moans deep in your chest in a way that was painful, like venom inside your lungs. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of your sounds, of knowing just how good he was fucking you - even if he could see it written all over your pleasure twisted face.
“You only begged for more when I was tellin’ you how I was gonna lay you on my bed. Take you apart… make you scream my name.”
He reached his other hand from your hip to the point where you were joined. He began touching that tender place, making sharp, vicious strokes that were almost vengeful. Tears easily gathered in your eyes and he let out another chuckle when you choked on a deep, pleasurable wail.
“Tell me, how many times did you touch yourself reading what I wrote?”
He asked, leaning down to whisper the words right in your ear.
“How many times did you cum thinking about me?”
“I didn’t.” You choked out, digging your nails deeper into the skin of his back, causing him to grunt as the pain mixed with the pleasure flowing through him.
“Sure, babe.” He smirked down at you, turning that look into something absolutely pavlovian that would forever make you feel his cock deep inside of you when you saw it, rather than feeling annoyed.
Maybe from that point on, it was a bit of both.
In an effort to shut him up, you reached up and claimed his lips. It was supposed to be a kiss, but it was mostly teeth. When you bit down on his bottom lip, snarling, he tasted blood and the way he moaned at the pain was absolutely unmistakable. It was something you remembered and used against him many times after that.
…
You wouldn’t allow yourself any room for self hatred when it came to that break in your self control. When it became an ongoing thing, you spun it as positive in your mind.
It was just sexual release. You and Jason both needed it. It paired well with intense training and the heavy studying that Dick made you do. It lowered your stress levels a lot, and it helped you get through the day.
The more time you spent around Jason, the more you got to know him, and the more you came to realize that he was nowhere near shallow. You easily saw that he was caring, deep, complex, troubled. The more time passed, you found yourself falling for him and the more you deeply denied it. Because it was just sex.
Things were good between the two of you, and you knew that if you added anything else to the mix - any complicated, mushy feelings - you would fuck it up.
You were especially reminded of this - how important it was not to fuck things up - just a day or so before every other force aside from you railed Titans Tower and began royally fucking things up.
…
It was a morning just like any other at Titans Tower. It was delightfully quiet - even though Dick demanded that everyone get up at ungodly early hours to begin training, you had somehow managed to wake up before everyone else and you were enjoying the peace it brought you.
When you got up to see that Jason was already in the kitchen, standing at the counter as he munched on a bowl of cereal, you wanted to scorn the idea that your peace would be interrupted. But instead, you found yourself willfully suppressing a smile.
You yawned and walked over to the counter, grabbing a bowl from one of the cupboards, thinking that cereal was just the right idea on his part. A deep frown cut through your face when you poured out the rest of the cereal box he had left on the counter, and a very measly amount fell into your bowl.
“What kind of asshole only leaves three fucking cornflakes in the bottom of the box?” You scoffed, causing him to chuckle.
“Learn to count, babe.” He told you, speaking with his mouth half-full. “That’s more than three.”
You rolled your eyes. You were likely exaggerating - but still, it seemed rude to you to leave such a small portion, barely a handful, in the bottom of the box.
“Or did I make you cum so hard last night that I knocked the common sense out of your head?” He added on, throwing you that signature smirk that made heat bloom between your thighs.
You let out a sarcastic snort, giving him a purposefully disgusted grimace as you lifted the bowl up and dumped the remaining cereal into his portion instead.
“You might as well take these.” You told him. “And don’t flatter yourself, you’re not that good.”
You moved behind them, distracting yourself from the conversation by making a cup of coffee.
“Oh really?” He perked up, rising to his full height, pure mischief in his voice. “It didn’t sound like it last night.”
Much to your horror, he then began imitating your moans.
“‘Oh, Jason! Oh, fuck me! More!’”
It was a cartoonish, pornographic imitation, something he likely wouldn’t have done if the others were anywhere within earshot. Oddly enough, even though your relationship was casual, you still kept it guarded and private, as though it were some precious secret that needed to be kept from the others.
“‘Jason, please, your dick is the best! Oh, make me cum!’”
But that was the farthest thing from your mind as embarrassment curled in your stomach, the reaction he likely wanted to draw out of you. You hated that you didn’t truly know if it was accurate or not, because sometimes - yes, he did fuck your brains out and make you completely mindless on his cock.
But you would never admit that he was right.
“Shut up.” You sighed, causing him to dissolve into laughter, feeling as though he had won.
But you wouldn’t simply leave it at that.
Instead, as you pushed the button on the machine and your coffee began to drip, you turned around and gently placed your fingers on the side of his cereal bowl. You froze all the milk inside of it solid, making it into one large frozen chunk with the spoon stuck inside when he wasn’t looking - distracted, staring at your face, looking for any trace of the reaction that he had drawn out of you.
You just glared, and he smirked once more.
When he picked up the spoon again and went to take another bite, the entire bowl came with it. He sighed in defeat when he realized what you had done.
“You know, it’s so damn annoying when you do that.” He sighed.
“I know.” You grinned at him.
He couldn’t help the butterflies that fluttered in his stomach at this. He resisted the urge to grab you by the sides of your head and steal the grin of your mouth with his own. He told you that it was out of annoyance, and not affection. He told himself those lines were most definitely not blurred when it came to you.
…
Confessing your feelings to Jason would not have been your choice.
Given the choice, you would have let your feelings quietly live and die inside of you. You would have just kept Jason as a friend. You would have even dropped the amazing sex if it meant staying on good terms with him.
But the stakes rose pretty quickly, and things were taken out of your hands. The choice was stolen from you and Jason entirely against your will.
When you found out he was missing, supposedly kidnapped by Doctor Light on the heels of some misguided plan - something inside of you shattered. Up until that moment, if you thought it was just a stupid crush, or an infatuation inside of you that would easily fade with time - you quickly found out that you were wrong.
You went through the stages of grief like a rocket.
Denial. Staring at the door, waiting for him to walk inside at any moment. Just like you had back at the safehouse.
Anger. Being so pissed at Dick at the other older Titans that you could barely breathe. How had they let this happen to him? How could they make him feel so inadequate that he felt the need to go out on his own, half-cocked, clearly doing something in the name of looking for their approval?
Bargaining. You would have traded places with him. You would have been the one, alone and scared and stranded if it meant that he got to be at home safe. You would have gone with him to carry out the stupid plan if he had only asked. Why hadn’t he asked you?
Depression. You wept in your room, hands clasped over your face, letting out chest-shaking sobs as you thought of the possibility of him never returning home again. You realized the possibility of him dying was very real and it made your lungs burn.
And then finally - Acceptance. You finally accepted that your feelings for him were something bigger, and if it meant that you were the only person in the Tower who truly cared about him (probably aside from Gar) - the only person who didn’t just see him as a pawn to be used against Deathstroke - then you had to do something about it.
So you laid out your love for Jason. You put it all on the line for him. You accidentally confessed to him, showed your feelings in a gesture so quiet it screamed.
You knew that for someone who stepped up to become Robin, someone who scorned cops for pummeling down on the innocent when they were supposed to be protectors - stepping up to try and save his life meant a love bigger than anything else you could have done.
And he was terrified of it. There was a big justice in your love for him. And to him, there was an even bigger justice in giving you an out to escape it - to escape loving him.
…
Hectic.
That was easily how you would describe the last few days at Titans Tower.
Between the unexpected arrival of Rose - Dick taking on another stray because, like Rachel said, he couldn’t resist a bird with a broken wing. Finding out that she was related to one of the deadliest men on earth that the Titans apparently had previous history with. And then Jason going off on his own without telling you, some botched hostage trade, and the group picking up yet another stray - a strange boy who had saved Jason’s life. It was all a blur of hectic chaos that had you snapping your neck to keep up.
Sleep was scarce and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a proper meal.
But you weren’t truly worried about any of that.
Dust had been kicked up around your life, and you couldn’t wait for it to settle before you made your next important decision.
Even though the wounds were still tender, you knew that things were safe for now, and your number one concern was Jason.
The minute he had gotten in the door, even though he was slightly hobbled and clearly sore from whatever Deathstroke had done to him, he rushed out of your sight. He was clearly eager to get away from everyone like a wounded animal sulking away to lick his wounds in peace. And when you had chased him, ignoring a nagging pain in your own side from the fight, he had slammed his bedroom door in your face, entirely uncaring of the fact that you called out his name, concerned for him.
The rest of the group was distracted with Conner - not knowing what he had been shot with or how to fix it. You hated it, but in the eyes of the group, yet again, Jason and any of his problems fell to the back burner.
After you had taken a short shower and changed your clothes, you found yourself here. Standing in front of Jason’s closed bedroom door, hoping not to face another cold rejection.
You wondered if he would be sleeping, wondered if you should interrupt his peace. But you knew that sleep was unlikely after everything that had happened.
So you took the leap.
You raised a fist, once again pushing down that stinging pain coming from the right side of your stomach. You reasoned that it was probably nothing more than a bruise forming there. And you knocked on the door.
A few moments later, the door was jerked open, and Jason glared at you.
His eyes were dull and tired, and there was a large bruise forming on the side of his mouth. Probably one of many others that you couldn’t see, from the way he had been walking earlier. He likely hadn’t been sleeping, but you had disturbed him.
“What the hell do you want?” He grumbled out, his voice dull, lacking any true fight.
“I wanted to check on you.” You told him, entirely honest. “I know it might seem stupid, but I wanna see how you’re doing.”
Jason scoffed and rolled his eyes.
He wanted to agree that - yes, it was stupid. It should have been obvious how he was doing after being kidnapped, beaten, and dropped off a building. But he was an idiot who had gotten himself thrown headfirst into that mess, thinking he could handle it. And he didn’t need to go crying to you about how badly he had fucked up. He had made a poor choice and he deserved all of the consequences. It was a simple fact of life.
“I’m doing just fine, thanks.” Jason said, entirely snide and sarcastic. “Look, I don’t need your help, okay? So fuck off.”
It was a set of harsh, cutting words. But he thought getting distance from you would be best. This whole thing had woken him up from the sweet little fantasy the two of you had been participating in. He was a natural born fuck-up. And sure, he could have you for a while, play around a bit - but he could never truly make you happy. Eventually, he would fuck you up too. He was a harsh poison and it would be better if he got out of your life before you felt the full effects.
He moved to shove the door closed and upon instinct, you reached up and fought him on it. Unconsciously, you winced as a sharp pain came from the injury in your stomach, reaching for it with your free hand as you held the door open with the other. It should have been no big deal. With your meta abilities, you usually healed quicker. You weren’t even used to feeling it when you got hurt. You were probably just feeling it worse because you were tired.
You tried to ignore the pain. But in a moment, Jason’s eyes went wide with worry as his gaze darted from your face, knit with pain, to where your hand was nursing the injury. Any sense of smarmy discontent dropped from his features, immediately being replaced with a softness and worry for you.
“You’re hurt.” He said quietly.
He let the door fall open again, reaching for your hand to inspect the injury himself.
“I’m fine.” You played the card this time, exchanging his lie for your own.
It was an odd play. He had lied about not being so torn up inside, emotionally devastated as he was, and now you were lying about not being physically injured from the fight. The two of you made an odd, but perfectly matched pair.
Jason barreled right past your words, and you were easily pliant to his touch as he removed your hand from the injury. You certainly were not expecting for him to find anything incriminating under your hand. But he glared at you when he found bright red spread across your palm, a glossy wetness leaking through your shirt.
“You’re bleeding.” He grunted at you.
Clearly, he was disappointed in the fact that you had neglected to bring this injury to the group’s attention. Pissed off at the fact that you weren’t in the medbay with Conner receiving some treatment right now.
Maybe you could blame it on the chaos. Maybe you could blame it on the fact that with everyone so emotionally distraught, you didn’t want to be just another problem for everyone to fuss over.
“Whoops.” You breathed out sarcastically. “I didn’t even notice.”
That last part was honest. In all the adrenaline, all your worrying over whether or not Jason was going to live as you watched him dangle so high off the ground - you truly hadn’t paid any mind to the injury.
“You didn’t-?” Jason huffed out in anger, but didn’t bother finishing the sentence.
Perhaps he partially understood himself, knowing how the adrenaline from a fight could stamp out pain. Or perhaps he knew how truly stubborn you were and he didn’t want to waste his energy arguing with you.
“You need this treated.” He added on.
No matter how fucked in the head he was, he never wanted to see you hurt. That was something he would definitely waste his energy on - wearing down your stubbornness until you let him or someone else in the house take care of the injury properly.
“Conner is worse off than I am.” You shrugged. “He needs the attention more.”
“Then let me help you.” He said, an impatient nagging rising up in his throat. “Bruce gave me some first aid training. One thing that means I’m not totally useless.”
The words made your chest ache for him, a pain that easily competed with the bleeding wound.
“Jason-”
You wanted to argue with him. You wanted to tell him he had infinite worth to you.
But of course, he cut you off.
“Just go sit on the bed.” He told you, quiet, but a firm command that you couldn’t ignore.
He gently pushed past you, on a quest for some supplies to patch you up with. You then found yourself drifting into his room almost mindlessly, your hand clutching the wound again upon instinct. It was a place that you felt oddly at home. The nights you had spent in that bed since coming to Titans Tower, your head delightfully empty as he had fucked you hard and fast - they were by far your favourites.
You would say it was because of the sex, and not just because you got to be wrapped up in Jason’s arms. Maybe everything had changed. Maybe your answers were different now. Maybe you were raw and tender and Jason wasn’t prepared to chase you in that devotion.
But that was just the thing. With you and Jason, there was never any sense of devotion. You and Jason were always hard and fast. Teasing each other, verging on the edge of vengeful. It was a flame that burned intensely hot - but it was never anything soft. It was never anything that prompted you to knock on his door so late, wanting to check on his well being. It was nothing that prompted you to make chase to put your life on the line for him.
Even just knowing that he had the intent to attend to your injury, called himself useful because of it - the thought cradled you like a warm blanket. It had you balancing on the edge of a dam holding back a barrage of feelings that you had been quelling down since the moment you had first put your lips on his.
“I told you to sit.” Jason’s voice came from behind you.
He had raided the infirmary and now had a handful of supplies - luckily without anyone seeing him or questioning why. When you turned to him, he was closing the bedroom door behind him, sealing you both in with this newfound soft intensity, the tired lull of two people unwilling to hold back that softness anymore. It was entirely dangerous, and entirely life-saving at the same time; and neither of you realized it.
“Since when do you get to boss me around?” You told him, your voice low and lacking any true spirit or sarcasm.
It was in the same vein as the banter the two of you usually threw around - bickering about who was a bigger asshole, who was more stubborn, who was better in bed.
You expected some kind of sexual comment in return. You could almost hear it now - he was the boss of you because he made you melt on his cock, made you mindless and dumb with it.
But, no dice.
The longer you stared at him, catching bits of the fresh pain swimming through those gorgeous blue eyes, you wished so badly for the mischief and sarcasm and light to come back and bite you the way that it used to.
It only made your stomach churn harder at the whole situation. Things had officially changed between you and Jason. You had yet to find out if it was for the better, or for the painstakingly worse.
Jason sighed through his nose.
“You can be such an asshole sometimes.” He told you. Coming from him, and given the nature of your relationship, you knew it was almost a compliment. “Will you just sit down and let me help you?”
Even though you were utterly terrified of the swelling of emotions you felt, bound to come to a head - you did.
You sat on the edge of the bed and he placed the supplies beside you.
When he mumbled out a quiet ‘lay back’, and you did, his cool fingertips at the hem of your shirt pulling it upward felt strangely more intimate than any other time you had been in this same position. It wasn’t heady, you weren’t granted the distraction of his mouth on yours and his tongue shoved between your lips while a harsh throbbing nagged between your legs.
This was quiet, and calm, and gentle.
When you caught his eye above you as he wiped away the blood with some clean gauze, you saw nothing but pity and worry and sparkling affection for you. You almost dared to call it something as epic and dangerous as love, buried deep in his eyes. He worked with the most delicate touch, almost as if he was afraid to break you, before he glanced down and inspected the wound.
His brow furrowed with even more intense worry, guilt nipping at his insides when he got a good look at it.
“I think I see a bullet in here.” He told you, and then he moved around the bed and grabbed his phone, turning on the flashlight to have a better light to inspect it. You felt intensely naked, intensely caught when he began shining the light on your stomach with a harshly inquisitive look across his face. “Definitely something shiny. You got shot and you didn’t fucking tell anyone?”
It was only then that you realized when you had gotten the wound - the exact moment clicking into place in your mind.
“It was only a ricochet.” You argued quietly. “It’s not that bad.”
Jason scoffed and rolled his eyes, and began sorting out his supplies, preparing to pull out whatever was lodged inside of you.
…
Dick explicitly told you to stay put.
They only wanted the more experienced Titans, the Varsity squad on the case when dealing with Deathstroke. He blamed young naive incompetence as the reason Jason had gotten captured in the first place. You blamed him and Bruce pushing Jason out, making him feel like he needed so desperately to prove himself. But it was something Dick wasn’t ready to hear - an argument you weren’t going to have with the very stubborn team leader.
Instead, you went for the silent route. You trailed the rest of them out of Tower, and when Dick strayed away from the rest of the group, his head on a swivel as he glanced back and forth, seemingly wanting to assure that none of the others were following him - you followed your gut instincts and went after him.
You hid in the shadows and the moment that Deathstroke hit the button and those panels scrolled up, revealing Jason stranded on that scaffolding - you couldn’t help yourself.
“Jason!”
You screamed out his name, you leapt forward.
Dick didn’t have time to scold you, not before the gunfire started.
Kory came out of nowhere - seemingly, she had the same idea as you. Putting her life on the line for an emotionally repressed man that she hadn’t admitted her feelings for. But she was there because she was in love with the other Robin. (Or rather, a man who claimed over and over again that he wasn’t Robin.)
Things quickly became a blur - flashes of flame as Kory fought, battling with the muzzle flashes from Deathstroke’s guns, limbs flying as they fought each other. You didn’t see it, but Deathstroke raised and aimed at you as you rushed toward the window, blindly going after Jason. In response, Dick charged forward, redirecting the gun as he pulled the trigger. You heard the sharp ‘ping’ sound of metal on metal - what you couldn’t see was the bullet hitting one of the metal beams in the ceiling. But you certainly felt it when it sliced into your side.
At the time, it was nothing compared to the fear you felt for Jason.
His eyes were wide with terror, and you could only focus on getting him to safety. You had no idea that a large part of his panic came from seeing you in the building. He had hoped that Dick would keep you away from all of this. But there you were, standing a few feet away from a man with a gun who was shooting around wildly. Jason would have delighted in being dropped off the building to his death if he had to see you get fatally shot when he could do nothing but squirm on the other side of the glass.
You put two hands on the glass, banging on it - of course, it was no use. It was inches thick, meant to keep people from going through it at this height. Working entirely on instinct, you put your palms flat across it and began forming ice crystals over it, hoping to make it rigid and breakable if it was frozen.
Once there was enough ice, you quickly looked around and spotted a metal pipe there for the in-progress construction of the building, so you grabbed it and rushed to smash the glass with it. You felt victorious as it shattered, and Jason flinched away from the shards, putting you one step closer to freeing him.
Though the moment the glass was cleared, leaving the wind whipping around you, his first words of greeting to you were not celebratory.
“What the hell are you doing here?” He barked at you, clearly angry with you.
You felt a dull ache in your chest at this. You thought he might be relieved, happy, pleased. At the time, you couldn’t interpret his harsh reaction as worry for you possibly getting hurt.
Nonetheless, you ignored his harshness. You would save him, whether he wanted to be saved or not. You draped your body through the window, reaching out to him. You made an effort to keep most of your weight planted on the floor of the building, in case the scaffolding wasn’t stable enough to hold two people at once.
“What do you think?” You replied, pure sarcasm dripping through your voice as you reached behind Jason and began fiddling with the rope around his wrists.
The position put the two of you in intensely close proximity. Jason caught a whiff of your unique scent, the shower gel you used that mingled with your body’s natural oils; and he felt so painfully at home. For the first time that night, he held back tears. He couldn’t help but to lean his forehead on your shoulder, taking comfort in having you so near after being on edge and terrified for so many hours. You resisted the urge to run a hand through his hair, to cradle him and give him further comfort. You forced yourself to focus on the task at hand - getting him to safety.
Behind you, at the very back of the room, Dick and Deathstroke wrestled with the remote for the explosives attached to the scaffolding.
Just as you managed to get Jason’s wrists freed, Deathstroke hit the switch, and the bombs went off.
…
You winced loudly as Jason dabbed at the wound with disinfectant.
“I would say sorry… but, you’ll thank me later when this isn’t swollen and leaking puss.” He told you, throwing you a small smirk.
It was smug. It was the usual kind of humor that he gave you.
It was comforting to know that every trace of the Jason you knew hadn’t been stolen by Deathstroke.
You held your breath as he pressed down with the medicine-covered gauze again, drawing much less of a reaction out of you this time.
“Great mental image, Jay.” You replied, your voice dull. It lacked any of the true bite you wanted to deliver in response to him. “I’m sure it’s such a turn-on thinking about my puss.”
It was meant to be a joke. But even unconsciously, it was an acknowledgement of that dangerous line - the line between truly caring and just using someone for sex. The line between having someone in your life as a body to get off with, and being so… homely with them.
You and Jason were towing that line dangerously. It was a thread that you were balancing on, and it would either break, or you would cross to the other side and be forever bonded to him.
Jason shrugged. “Maybe I don’t have to be turned on by you all the time.”
There was more stuck in his throat. Another dangerous acknowledgement of that line.
‘Maybe I just have to care.’
Both of you lulled into silence because neither of you dared to say it.
After a few moments, Jason put down the gauze and hesitated to reach for the tweezers. He knew that pulling the bullet out would be painful, but inevitable. It was a lot like the state of your relationship with him. Break it off, and find happiness elsewhere, or acknowledge this big thing swelling to fruition between the two of you. Have Jason fuck it up eventually. Painful, but inevitable.
“You shouldn’t have to be hurt like this.” Jason said quietly. “You shouldn’t have gotten hurt for my sake.”
There it was again - words with a dangerous double meaning.
You looked up at him, pure pain knit across his face, and for a moment he looked from the tweezers to you and he could hardly stand holding your gaze.
‘It’s worth it.’ You wanted to say. ‘For you, I’d bear any pain.’
The words lived and died behind your eyes, and your tongue decided on something else entirely.
“It’s nothing.” You told him.
You downplayed the pain, pretending that the injury was only a minor inconvenience for you. And in the grand scheme of life, it was. With time, it would heal. Losing Jason would be something you’d never heal from.
Jason shook his head at this statement.
He forced himself to reach for the tweezers then. He handed you his phone, a silent agreement that you would hold the light as steady as you could. He knew you well, too well, and he knew that you needed something else to focus on to push away the pain. He put his free hand on the plush of your stomach, pulling back slightly to hold the wound open while you held the light on it.
When the sharp metal of the tweezers breached your wound, you wanted to swear. You wanted to call him an asshole as the pain shot through you. You wanted to scold him for leaving the Tower and being kidnapped in the first place. But you knew that even if it was playful or sarcastic, fueled by the bite of your pain, it was not what he needed to hear right now. So instead, you held your breath, and gripped his phone hard, keeping the light steady as you bared the sharp shocks of pain.
After a moment of digging around that felt like an eternity, he pulled out the fragment and held it up to show you as you collapsed back against the bed, panting with tears stinging the edges of your eyes.
“It’s not nothing.” He declared sharply.
You couldn’t conjure a response. You knew he was right. And you didn’t want to be forced to admit it.
Instead, you turned off the light from his phone and relaxed into the bed, closing your eyes as he walked around to the trashcan and threw out the bullet fragment. It fell into the bottom of the plastic wastebasket with a very small ‘ping’ - making you wonder how something so small could cause so much trouble.
Jason quickly returned to you, dabbing more disinfectant into the wound in a way that made you groan and flex away from the touch. Once again, he did not apologize.
There were a few moments of muddy silence with nothing but your slightly labored breathing, trying to contain your sounds of pain so as to not make him feel any further guilt about the whole incident.
Your mind churned, and you couldn’t help the next words that came from your mouth.
“I meant what I said.” You told him.
At the sound of this, his hands immediately stilled. You felt his eyes on you, and you forced yourself to open your own and look up at him once again. He stared you down with intense examination. He looked for any ounce of falsity, any sign that you were lying, even posturing to make him feel better after everything that had happened.
He didn’t find any.
You thought he might acknowledge you, that he might say something back to return your mighty words. Instead, he simply reached for more gauze, and began putting a final bandage on your wound.
…
The explosion caused a sharp rattle through your ears. It shocked you and made you dizzy and put the whole world off-kilter. The only thing you could perceive past the mind-numbing hum in your brain was the feeling of Jason’s rough glove gripping tightly onto your wrist, so you gripped back as hard as you could.
When you blinked open your eyes, you were half-hanging out of the open window, the edge of the floor cutting into your waist as you held onto Jason by nothing but his wrist. His whole body weight created a harsh burn, straining on the muscles in your shoulder as you watched him dangle hundreds of feet above the street.
Panic flooded you.
You scrambled to reach out with your other hand, and the moment you moved, your shirt slipped against the sleek, polished material of the floor and you began sliding out the window. You gasped and Jason stilled his panicked flailing immediately.
“Don’t move!” He shouted.
“Give me your other hand so I can pull you up!” You shouted back.
Beyond the unpleasant hum of your eardrums rattling, you still heard chaos behind you. Gunshots, the grunts of fighting, Kory and Dick’s voices yelling. They were busy with Deathstroke, they couldn’t help you or Jason.
Jason looked up at you with glassy eyes.
He knew that with all his gear weighing him down, even with the training you had been doing, you wouldn’t be able to pull him up. Not by yourself. And if you weren’t careful, his body weight would just pull you out of the window and cause you to go tumbling down to your death along with him.
When you saw that frown etch across his lips, that filthy look of dawning - you glared at him.
“Give me your other hand!” You screamed, your voice raking across your throat like hot coals. A hot boiling rage at the fact that he seemed almost determined to die.
There was one thing he was determined about. If he was going to die, he wasn’t going to take you down with him.
His gloved wrist started to slip from your nervous, sweaty palm, and you tried hard to hold on tight. You formed large shards of ice, hoping you could create some kind of bond there by freezing your hand to his. But it would only be temporary with gravity trying to tear the two of you apart.
“You have to drop me, Y/N.” He said, nothing but pure mourning on his lips. “I’m dead weight.”
You both knew it was a horrendous double meaning.
He thought he was a dead weight to your life.
“No!” You immediately defied this thought, that feral rage ripping at your throat once again. “I’m gonna pull you up. I’m gonna pull you up!”
You reached your other hand down and tightly wrapped both of your hands around his wrist, yanking upward. The harsh movement caused you to slide even further out the window. You were now dangling dangerously over San Francisco with only the thickness of your thighs giving you any real stability on the intensely high up floor. It made you dizzy, and the only thing you had to focus on were the wet wells of Jason’s eyes staring up at you.
“It’s no use!” Jason said tearfully.
You ignored him.
You cast your chin over your shoulder, and began shouting.
“Help me!” You screamed, trying desperately to get the attention of Dick or Kory. “Help me! Fuck!”
“You have to let go.”
Jason’s words immediately shifted your focus back to him.
But of course, you refused.
“I’m not letting go of you!” You declared sharply. “Not that easily.”
As he stared up at your tearful eyes, he knew that you meant it as more.
Unfortunately, it was the one thing he was terrified of.
He thought that you saw him as some shiny perfect thing, something good and worth having in your life. He thought that you were incapable of seeing the poison, the true fuck-up that he was. If you didn’t let go of him, sooner or later, just like everyone else in his life, you were going to get burned.
So Jason did what he had to do.
He began prying your fingers off his wrist, trying his best to keep you stable while he forced himself from your grip.
“No!” You shrieked. “No, no, no-”
You didn’t have much room to fight him about it without falling out of the window yourself.
You made a move to readjust, to get a tighter grip on him - and it was the one deadly move that caused him to slip out of your touch completely.
You were forced to watch on in chest clenching horror, blinking through heavy tears as he began hurtling toward the ground.
…
If not for Conner - a literal miracle - swooping in and saving Jason at the last second, then you would have spent the rest of your life regretting those moments, wondering what you could have done differently to save him.
When Jason finished taping down the bandages, making sure the wound was clean and secure, he laid his palm flat on top of it. It was a kind of ‘kissing it better’ that instantly spread warmth curling through your gut. It was a touch so incredibly tender - especially compared to the heated, aggressive groping you were used to from him - that it caused a whimper from the back of your throat.
You knew it was unlikely, but you hoped that he hadn’t heard it.
“All done.” He said quietly.
You instantly felt regret when he took his hand away and began tidying up the medical supplies. But you forced yourself to sit upright, now feeling only muscle soreness and a much duller pain coming from the area. You felt intensely thankful for his care as you pulled your shirt back down, righting your clothes back into place.
“You’re free to go now.” Jason told you, his voice still low, as though a single decibel would shatter the delicate peace between the two of you.
You felt your heart sink.
In an instant, you understood what it was - he was concerned about your physical wellbeing, but he didn’t actually want to have you around. Just like his reaction to you showing up at the hostage exchange - he didn’t want your presence there.
You heaved a sigh and got off the bed as Jason busied himself with gathering up the used gauze to throw it away. As you put your hand on the doorknob, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to leave.
It was something else.
It had to be something else.
Jason hadn’t let himself drop off a building in some desperate ploy just to get away from you. He had been trying to save you.
He was so utterly willing to give his life for yours.
And now he was trying to back down from that.
You turned and faced him, leaving the door closed. When he turned from ditching things in the wastebasket, he froze. He was entirely surprised that you were still there.
The two of you locked eyes, both staying still - like a predator and prey locked in a stalemate, wondering who would run first.
In this situation, you weren’t sure who was the prey.
You were both so vulnerable.
Jason thought it would be selfish to get caught up in all of this, to finally admit those dangerous feelings he had for you. When he cared for things, he usually ended up breaking them. Of course, it was never on purpose - he was an idiot. Everything he touched, he fucked up. He had made that more than evident with his last braindead plan, the outing to prove that he was worthy of being Robin. Something that had gotten you shot, probably could have gotten you killed.
If you stuck with him any longer, you probably would end up being killed. And he would never forgive himself for that.
He would be better off ripping himself from your hold, as much as it hurt. Giving you a dose of that heartbreak now so that you could get over him and go after better things.
As you stared at Jason, you could see all the pain boiling underneath his surface. You wondered what he was thinking, what the hell he was churning over in that intense brain of his - but you didn’t dare to ask.
You knew that he needed to be held right now - in every sense of the word. You knew that he needed to be cared for the way he had cared for your wound, pushing past the pain in order to heal. You wondered if he would lay down and bear it or if he would continue to fight you.
You were the one to bravely step forward. Though Jason was tempted to ask you to leave, that thing inside of him yearning to marinate in his isolation because he deserved it, he pushed it down. He let his hands naturally come to sit on the plush comfort of your waist as you put a gentle touch on both his shoulders, leaning into his body ever so slightly.
You laid your forehead on his cheek, right next to that ugly bruise that had been left on him, and he let out a contented sigh as he felt your warmth envelope him. For the first time since his feet had touched the ground, he felt calm. He felt safe.
You smoothed a hand across his shoulder, and raised your head, using your touch to gently tip his face toward yours. He quickly realized that your intention was to kiss him. And something ached in his heart - something painful and longing. He knew that it would not be needy and haste with the intention of pile-driving toward sex like your other kisses had been. He knew that it would be the metamorphosis of your relationship that he was not prepared to go through.
He nuzzled along your forehead, gently stopping you.
“Please don’t do this.” He murmured quietly into your skin.
He knew that it would break him.
He knew that this was the moment - like Gatsby reaching up toward the stars - this would be the moment that he was tied to you forever, damned by his love for you. Only, much different than Gatsby, he wasn’t destined for some grant fate if he didn’t have you. He was on a one way path to a messy death, and he was determined not to take you down with him.
Tears pricked the edges of his eyes at the thought.
You pulled back, just enough to properly look him in the eyes, and your own tears formed when you saw that pathetic puppy dog looking back at you.
“Why not?” You demanded, much sharper than you intended. You knew he was fragile and you didn’t want to upset him any further than he already was.
“You know why.” He replied, his voice barely scraping above a whisper as the emotion clutched at his throat.
Jason wanted to hold onto you forever, but he was also a realistic person. He expected that any minute now, you would rip away from his arms and charge out the door, entirely angry with him, and this would finally be over. You would finally be safe from him - safe from any nasty fate his life could conjure up for you.
You hated what he was asking of you - asking you not to care for him anymore. As if you could somehow switch it off. Impossible.
“I meant what I said.” You repeated yourself, still entirely firm in this conviction. “I’m not gonna let you go that easily.”
You leaned in, planting your lips on his in a light kiss. A pained sigh ripped through you when he didn’t make any moves to kiss you back.
“Jason, please.” You whimpered out desperately. “If you get to bandage my bullet wound, then I get to do this.”
Jason wanted to spell it all out for you, plain and dirty. He wanted to get angry, he wanted to scream. He wanted to rush along the inevitable. He wanted to tell you what a poison he was to the world, that he deserved to die and you deserved better things. But he had the utmost feeling that you wouldn’t listen.
“Please, stop pushing me away.” You whispered against his lips.
Instead, he listened to your plea. He let himself indulge in this selfish softness for once.
He reached up and grabbed your jaw, pulling you into a firmer kiss, declaring every ounce of passion and terror that he was feeling in those moments. You answered it all right back - digging your fingers into the shoulders of his shirt, letting out a hot huff against his cheek as you leaned into his body.
He would never be perfect - but he was yours.
...
Final note: yes, I used to be @/pinkchubbiebunnie. That is still my username on AO3, so if you saw this fic posted on there, it is my fic. Please do not accusing me of plagiarising fics if you see this, because this is my own fic. This is my new blog. Feel free to follow me if you’re interested in my fanfiction and thoughtful discussions of the media that I enjoy.
when i want fluff/angst fics and all i’m getting is smut
the struggle is real
Would you consider either doing a Dabi x childhood friend or Jason Todd x childhood friend?
YES TO BOTH OMG EJFBKDBSKS i love love love that idea anon!!
Ill post them as soon as possible YIPPIE
(ill probably finish season 6 and 7 of mha before posting the dabi one bc MY MAN DESERVES JUSTICE and i need to have every detail of his backstory FRESHHH)
i refuse to believe these are all the same man
this makes me sob every time i read it
Emergency Contact
Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Reader
Leave me something - or let me out. I'm starving. Push me, pull me. Waiting for the start of:
Things that I want, this happily ever after. You choke on your words, but you swallow them faster. Just want you to be my Emergency Contact.
Summary:
After Jason miraculously comes home from his brush with Deathstroke, you're both feeling it in very different ways. You have an unexpected physical wound from the battle, and he has many (very expected) emotional wounds. You help each other heal. Even if it's very stubborn on both your parts.
Jason Todd x GN!Powered!Reader. Enemies/FWB to Lovers. Angst and Hurt/Comfort. (Slight Smut). Set during Season 2, Episode 5.
Word Count: 10,400
Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link
If you want to be notified whenever I post a new fic, make sure to follow my library blog @sundropslibrary and turn on notifications there.
List of detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.
Warnings: general emotional angst, Jason has a self deprecating inner dialogue, (kind of) enemies to lovers - more like annoyances to fuck buddies to lovers, friends with benefits to lovers, the reader and Jason have a bantering/argumentative nature to their relationship, the reader is meant to be 100% gender neutral (the reader is never referred to in the third person, so there is no need to use they/them pronouns, but the reader is not called she/her or he/him), Jason calls the reader ‘babe’ (imo, a completely gender neutral term and he would call anybody that), mentions of alcohol (Jason drinking a beer), the reader character has ice powers (not entirely relevant to the plot but I couldn’t help myself lmao).
sexual themes throughout, mentions of sexting (no detailed descriptions), mentions of sexting in public, mentions of the reader character sending nudes to Jason (no detailed descriptions of the photos), one scene with detailed smut (but it is not the primary focus of the fic), the reader’s genitals are not described in any specific way, some dirty talk, Jason is more dominant and the reader is more submissive, penetrative sex, Jason is annoying even during sex, Jason has a pain kink (even when he’s a dom, he’s a painslut, I don’t make the rules), scratching/marking (Jason receiving), slight humiliation kink.
mentions of canon level violence, mentions of kidnapping (in alignment with canon), mentions of Jason being beaten by Deathstroke, mentions of Jason’s near-death experience (being dropped off the building), gun violence, the reader is injured - has a bullet wound/bullet fragment in their stomach, mentions of blood, descriptions of first-aid, mentions of puss from an infected wound (theoretically, not something that happens in the fic). That should be everything.
A/N: The title for the fic comes from a song by Pierce the Veil of the same name. It's a newer song, and it's one that I absolutely went to when looking for a title for this fic. The concept of becoming someone's emergency contact is about upgrading the relationship from casual to much more serious, and just the whole song, and specific lyrics in it suit this fic so well. I highly recommend listening to it paired with this fic.
This was based on a request from my old blog, but obvi I don't have that ask anymore - the request was about Jason getting shot and having his wound attended to by the reader, but I changed it to the reader getting shot cause I thought that was more interesting and less common. If the person who made that request sees this and finds my new blog, I hope you enjoy it! And in general, I hope everyone who reads this enjoys it.
...
If asked, you would be hard pressed to explain your relationship with Jason Todd.
The best way you could describe it would probably be - friends with benefits?
But most of the time, the two of you weren’t even friends. You weren’t the type to hang out casually, or spend time alone together if it didn’t involve ripping each other’s clothes off.
If you ever exchanged secrets or those precious bits of your most raw selves, it was by mistake. It was through sarcasm, or coming off the tired lips of someone who had just been exhausted by a few orgasms. The two of you knew each other well, quite literally inside and out. But you always made a deep, concerted effort to hold each other at arm’s length. And maybe that’s part of what all the snark and harsh words were for.
It wasn’t all arguing. You were friendly. You could be civil, at the very least.
Right from the moment you had first met Jason, you had found him to be so damn annoying, a shitstain on the earth - yet, someone you couldn’t stay away from. The line between flirtatious banter and a truly grinding argument was always so thin with the two of you.
…
You hadn’t expected that your life would be truly changed when you walked into that safehouse in Chicago that day. You truly thought nothing of him when his eyes landed on you - in those moments, a completely anonymous stranger, raking his eyes over you like you were a piece of meat. It was a gaze that immediately made you feel naked, something that made you want to smack him. You told yourself it was because he was being a pervert, not because of the heat that curled in your gut at feeling so intensely desired by him.
He had been sitting on the couch sipping a beer like he owned the place, his thighs spread wide in a way you immediately decided was arrogant and annoying rather than hot - showing off his muscle tone as if it was trying to break through his jeans. Definitely annoying. Definitely the stance of a fuckboy trying to look bigger and badder than he was. He definitely was not attractive.
When Dick led you, Rachel, Gar, and Kory further into the condo that seemed far too conspicuous to be a safehouse, the stranger you would later come to know as Jason quickly spoke up.
“Who are your friends?” He asked.
As he rose from the couch, his eyes lingered on you. Though his words seemed more out of curiosity, you couldn’t help but feel that bite of something more salacious lingering in his voice.
It caused you to scoff and roll your eyes.
“Not important.” Dick declared, his voice snippy. He was clearly annoyed with this new guy, and you could tell that your perceptions of him were definitely not ill-informed.
“Who’s he?” Kory asked, going for the obvious question.
“Not important.” Dick parroted out the words again, sounding much shorter with his patience.
“Anybody want a brew?” Jason asked, motioning with the beer bottle in his hand.
“Brew?” You twisted your eyebrows with disgust, staring him down as you commented on his odd choice of slang.
He didn’t get to reply, as you were trampled over by Gar’s enthusiastic voice in your ear.
“I do!” He said, raising his hand with excitement.
“No, you don’t.” You quickly told him, reaching out to grab his hand and put it back down. “It’s disgusting.”
You had a grand suspicion that Gar had never drank beer before, and he had no idea what he was truly asking for. Rather, he was simply taking advantage of trying new things because Dick and Kory were incredibly slack parental figures and he was away from home for the first time.
“No, no one wants a brew.” Dick sighed, shaking his head. He threw Jason a small glare and you resisted the urge to laugh.
“That can’t be Adamson.” Kory said, motioning toward Jason.
This left you confused. But you didn’t question it.
“He’s not Adamson. Adamson’s in the bathroom. Unconscious.” Dick explained.
“Hi, I’m Rachel.” Rachel told Jason, offering him a sweet smile - being her usual sweet self.
“Jason.” He introduced himself, in that moment, finally giving you a name to that obnoxious face.
“I’m Gar!” Gar said with a grin, to which Jason nodded.
Jason caught you glaring at him, and looked you up and down again, as if trying to willfully tear off your clothes with his eyes. It made your skin itch with heat and you would forever deny that it was a feeling you liked.
“What can I call you, babe?” He asked, his voice entirely slimy, the kind of tone he would have used to recite cheesy lines to Tinder dates, you were entirely sure of.
Before you could come up with some clever reply, Dick sighed in frustration and started balking again.
“Okay, who we all are doesn’t matter right now.” He pressed, his neck so entirely tense that veins began to pop from the skin. “Can we just chill out, relax, sit on the couch and watch TV or something?”
It seemed that he wouldn’t get his wish.
Gar quickly charged around the table, finding something else to get strung up about.
“Yo, when did you get another one?” He asked, putting his hands on both of the expensive cases on the long dining table - a copy identical to the one you knew to be containing Dick’s Robin outfit.
It made you curious, and the answer that followed certainly surprised you.
“That one’s mine.” Jason said, his chest literally puffing out with pride as he stated the fact.
“No way.” You scoffed.
“Yes way.” He quickly argued back, the whole exchange sounding entirely juvenile.
“This one’s yours? Wait, you’re Robin too?” Gar quickly put the pieces together.
“I thought you were Robin?” Rachel commented, tilting her head toward Dick with curiosity.
“I am.” Dick said firmly.
“He was.” Jason corrected, a cocky smirk forming across his lips.
“Batman really lowered the height requirement, huh.” You said.
The words flew from your mouth before you could stop them, seeing as it was likely the only thing you could nitpick about Jason’s appearance. Between his stunning sharp jaw, his piercing blue eyes, his oddly appealing wild hair, his muscle tone being somehow visible beneath his baggy clothing - all of it made you equally frustrated and annoyed with him, and your baser urges couldn’t resist the low-hanging fruit.
You felt victory and a slight pang of guilt when Jason deflated because of your comment, shrinking back into himself at your words.
He didn’t have anything to say in return, he simply sipped his beer.
“Wait, how many Robins are there?” Gar said, beginning to excitedly ramble at the thought. “Are there a lot? Cause I would love to-”
“Okay, quiet.” Kory cut him off, clearly becoming annoyed with all of this dancing around the point as much as Dick was. “Sit.”
Her words were firm, and you couldn’t help but to listen. You found yourself collapsing to sit on the couch while Rachel and Gar took seats at the dining table. Jason continued to linger in the middle of the room, staring at Kory and Dick as their frustration filled the air.
“Bathroom.” Kory told Dick, and then they left to deal with whoever - or whatever - Adamson was.
Jason sighed and took a seat beside you. When his eyes fell on you, you set your jaw and glared at him. You didn’t give away a single ounce of the heat you were feeling as his eyes locked with yours.
“Even if I am the shorter Robin, I can assure you that everything else about me is… very long.” He lowered his voice and whispered those last words, crowding into your personal space as he did so.
It sent shivers down your spine, his silken voice making the words sound too tempting. Even if you twisted your face and said ‘gross!’ causing him to dissolve into laughter, you didn’t make an effort to move away from him or put any space between your two bodies on the very large couch. You told yourself it was because you were tired from a very long day of travel, not because you were enjoying the smell of his strangely expensive cologne from this close by.
His grin was still entirely smug, and you couldn’t stand it.
When he raised the beer bottle up to his mouth again, you reached over and put a hand on his forearm, forcefully dragging his arm down as you made a snide comment.
“That shit is disgusting, why the hell do you drink it?” You asked.
You found your face drifting toward his again and if asked, you would say it was a form of intimidation - not that you were being drawn in by an unconscious attraction to him.
“Because I can.” He replied, just as snide as he slipped your grip and sipped on the drink.
You mocked his words in an entirely childish voice, and then you raised a single finger up to it and skimmed along the neck of the bottle. It took only a single moment of concentration with your skilled powers to freeze the beer inside solid. He thought he felt an extra chill coming off his hand, but convinced himself that he imagined it. But when he kept it tilted and nothing came out to meet his lips, he shook it and then stuck an inquiring eye inside the bottle.
When he saw that it was completely frozen, he looked over and saw you grinning, and little did you know - that was the moment he became completely taken with you. You were one of the most annoying people he had ever met, and he found himself so intensely attracted to you.
Even if it was getting under your skin by arguing with you or fucking your brains out, he knew in that moment - he had to get inside you and drive you insane the same way that he knew you would for him.
…
When Dick left to go check on his old circus friend Clay, Jason winked at you and said ‘don’t miss me too much’. You made a show of putting a finger near your mouth and audibly gagging.
Later that night, when Jason didn’t return, you hated the curl of disappointment that panged in your stomach. You wanted to hit yourself for staring at the door, waiting for the second Robin to come in behind Dick.
You hated yourself even more for replying to Jason’s texts.
Apparently he had taken your phone out of your jacket pocket when you went to the bathroom (not to see Adamson - a different bathroom, to pee). And he had put himself in your contacts as ‘Hot Guy’. He had also sent himself a text from your phone that read ‘omg Jason you’re so hot, will you fuck me?’. And then replied to it from his own phone with a picture of his cock.
Unfortunately, the only thing you could mock about the picture was poor lighting.
When you told him as much, he quickly remedied that with several more pictures - ones with better lighting. He sent a video with very distinct audio. You would deny that you rushed to put your headphones in to listen to it while you sat on the train with Kory and Gar. You would deny that it drove a hard, hot pain between your thighs.
You dug through a folder and sent some pictures of your own. You told yourself it was to prove to him that you were too good for him - to show off something he could never actually have. To tease him.
You would deny that you loved the compliments he gave you, that you ate up the affection like a plant lovingly soaking up the sun.
When you were sexting him, you had no clue that you were ever going to see him again. It was almost mindless, something for a dopamine hit to distract yourself from all the chaos going on around you. You weren’t doing it because you actually liked Jason. You didn’t have any real attractions toward him, or any real plans to carry out all of the bold things you said in those messages.
You had no clue that you’d end up living together.
When you did find out that Dick would be taking Jason into the newly reopened Titans Tower along with you, Gar, and Rachel, you didn’t make a big deal of it in your mind. When Jason made flirtatious remarks toward you in person, you brushed him off. You put up a wall.
You told yourself that he was nothing more than a cocky, shallow guy who would use you for sex and then throw you away - something you could never actually build a proper relationship with. And if you were supposed to live together, be some kind of team like Dick expected you to be, then you couldn’t be messy. You couldn’t get emotional.
You had no clue that on one of those first nights living together, your self assured discipline not to give into your lust for him would break like a wafer cookie, and you would be in his bed faster than a sea turtle running into ocean.
…
“Fuck, babe, you feel so good on my cock.” Jason grunted, his face buried in your neck as he thrusted deep inside of you. The loud squelch of artificial wetness coming from between your thighs as he worked his hips, working you open with a needy, demanding pace. “Bet you love this cock, huh? Tell me how fuckin’ much you love it.”
“Shut up.”
The words came from your throat as a weak whimper, much less powerful than you had intended.
You didn’t want to give him any more power than he already held over you - he had you weak and willing on his cock, something you would have never admitted could be true until it was happening in these moments.
Though you would never admit it aloud, you loved the way he handled you. Having you pinned against the bed with his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, having you breathless and moaning as he fucked into you with fast, obviously skilled strokes. Your nails cut into the flesh of his back, and he let out a low rumble from his gut as the sharp sting sent a wave of pleasure through him.
You hated the twinge of lustful embarrassment that curled in your gut when he chuckled at your words.
“Oh, you want me to shut up?” He asked, slightly breathless from the act himself, moving one hand beside your head to raise himself up slightly to look in your eyes.
He was sweaty, disheveled, his hair a mess, his muscles taught with the effort as he continued to pound into you. You hated that you had imagined him much like this before, and that this outlived all of your fantasies.
“Yes.” You fired back. “Just shut up and fuck me.”
He bit his lip - something you didn’t know was him trying to hold back his orgasm, so utterly turned on by your bratty defiance, the twinge of a whimper in your voice as you said those words.
“You weren’t tellin’ me to shut up when I was texting you.”
He said, all hot breath fanning across your chin, his hips spearing forward in sharp, hard hits that made your skin smack loudly together. It made you work hard to suppress moans deep in your chest in a way that was painful, like venom inside your lungs. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of your sounds, of knowing just how good he was fucking you - even if he could see it written all over your pleasure twisted face.
“You only begged for more when I was tellin’ you how I was gonna lay you on my bed. Take you apart… make you scream my name.”
He reached his other hand from your hip to the point where you were joined. He began touching that tender place, making sharp, vicious strokes that were almost vengeful. Tears easily gathered in your eyes and he let out another chuckle when you choked on a deep, pleasurable wail.
“Tell me, how many times did you touch yourself reading what I wrote?”
He asked, leaning down to whisper the words right in your ear.
“How many times did you cum thinking about me?”
“I didn’t.” You choked out, digging your nails deeper into the skin of his back, causing him to grunt as the pain mixed with the pleasure flowing through him.
“Sure, babe.” He smirked down at you, turning that look into something absolutely pavlovian that would forever make you feel his cock deep inside of you when you saw it, rather than feeling annoyed.
Maybe from that point on, it was a bit of both.
In an effort to shut him up, you reached up and claimed his lips. It was supposed to be a kiss, but it was mostly teeth. When you bit down on his bottom lip, snarling, he tasted blood and the way he moaned at the pain was absolutely unmistakable. It was something you remembered and used against him many times after that.
…
You wouldn’t allow yourself any room for self hatred when it came to that break in your self control. When it became an ongoing thing, you spun it as positive in your mind.
It was just sexual release. You and Jason both needed it. It paired well with intense training and the heavy studying that Dick made you do. It lowered your stress levels a lot, and it helped you get through the day.
The more time you spent around Jason, the more you got to know him, and the more you came to realize that he was nowhere near shallow. You easily saw that he was caring, deep, complex, troubled. The more time passed, you found yourself falling for him and the more you deeply denied it. Because it was just sex.
Things were good between the two of you, and you knew that if you added anything else to the mix - any complicated, mushy feelings - you would fuck it up.
You were especially reminded of this - how important it was not to fuck things up - just a day or so before every other force aside from you railed Titans Tower and began royally fucking things up.
…
It was a morning just like any other at Titans Tower. It was delightfully quiet - even though Dick demanded that everyone get up at ungodly early hours to begin training, you had somehow managed to wake up before everyone else and you were enjoying the peace it brought you.
When you got up to see that Jason was already in the kitchen, standing at the counter as he munched on a bowl of cereal, you wanted to scorn the idea that your peace would be interrupted. But instead, you found yourself willfully suppressing a smile.
You yawned and walked over to the counter, grabbing a bowl from one of the cupboards, thinking that cereal was just the right idea on his part. A deep frown cut through your face when you poured out the rest of the cereal box he had left on the counter, and a very measly amount fell into your bowl.
“What kind of asshole only leaves three fucking cornflakes in the bottom of the box?” You scoffed, causing him to chuckle.
“Learn to count, babe.” He told you, speaking with his mouth half-full. “That’s more than three.”
You rolled your eyes. You were likely exaggerating - but still, it seemed rude to you to leave such a small portion, barely a handful, in the bottom of the box.
“Or did I make you cum so hard last night that I knocked the common sense out of your head?” He added on, throwing you that signature smirk that made heat bloom between your thighs.
You let out a sarcastic snort, giving him a purposefully disgusted grimace as you lifted the bowl up and dumped the remaining cereal into his portion instead.
“You might as well take these.” You told him. “And don’t flatter yourself, you’re not that good.”
You moved behind them, distracting yourself from the conversation by making a cup of coffee.
“Oh really?” He perked up, rising to his full height, pure mischief in his voice. “It didn’t sound like it last night.”
Much to your horror, he then began imitating your moans.
“‘Oh, Jason! Oh, fuck me! More!’”
It was a cartoonish, pornographic imitation, something he likely wouldn’t have done if the others were anywhere within earshot. Oddly enough, even though your relationship was casual, you still kept it guarded and private, as though it were some precious secret that needed to be kept from the others.
“‘Jason, please, your dick is the best! Oh, make me cum!’”
But that was the farthest thing from your mind as embarrassment curled in your stomach, the reaction he likely wanted to draw out of you. You hated that you didn’t truly know if it was accurate or not, because sometimes - yes, he did fuck your brains out and make you completely mindless on his cock.
But you would never admit that he was right.
“Shut up.” You sighed, causing him to dissolve into laughter, feeling as though he had won.
But you wouldn’t simply leave it at that.
Instead, as you pushed the button on the machine and your coffee began to drip, you turned around and gently placed your fingers on the side of his cereal bowl. You froze all the milk inside of it solid, making it into one large frozen chunk with the spoon stuck inside when he wasn’t looking - distracted, staring at your face, looking for any trace of the reaction that he had drawn out of you.
You just glared, and he smirked once more.
When he picked up the spoon again and went to take another bite, the entire bowl came with it. He sighed in defeat when he realized what you had done.
“You know, it’s so damn annoying when you do that.” He sighed.
“I know.” You grinned at him.
He couldn’t help the butterflies that fluttered in his stomach at this. He resisted the urge to grab you by the sides of your head and steal the grin of your mouth with his own. He told you that it was out of annoyance, and not affection. He told himself those lines were most definitely not blurred when it came to you.
…
Confessing your feelings to Jason would not have been your choice.
Given the choice, you would have let your feelings quietly live and die inside of you. You would have just kept Jason as a friend. You would have even dropped the amazing sex if it meant staying on good terms with him.
But the stakes rose pretty quickly, and things were taken out of your hands. The choice was stolen from you and Jason entirely against your will.
When you found out he was missing, supposedly kidnapped by Doctor Light on the heels of some misguided plan - something inside of you shattered. Up until that moment, if you thought it was just a stupid crush, or an infatuation inside of you that would easily fade with time - you quickly found out that you were wrong.
You went through the stages of grief like a rocket.
Denial. Staring at the door, waiting for him to walk inside at any moment. Just like you had back at the safehouse.
Anger. Being so pissed at Dick at the other older Titans that you could barely breathe. How had they let this happen to him? How could they make him feel so inadequate that he felt the need to go out on his own, half-cocked, clearly doing something in the name of looking for their approval?
Bargaining. You would have traded places with him. You would have been the one, alone and scared and stranded if it meant that he got to be at home safe. You would have gone with him to carry out the stupid plan if he had only asked. Why hadn’t he asked you?
Depression. You wept in your room, hands clasped over your face, letting out chest-shaking sobs as you thought of the possibility of him never returning home again. You realized the possibility of him dying was very real and it made your lungs burn.
And then finally - Acceptance. You finally accepted that your feelings for him were something bigger, and if it meant that you were the only person in the Tower who truly cared about him (probably aside from Gar) - the only person who didn’t just see him as a pawn to be used against Deathstroke - then you had to do something about it.
So you laid out your love for Jason. You put it all on the line for him. You accidentally confessed to him, showed your feelings in a gesture so quiet it screamed.
You knew that for someone who stepped up to become Robin, someone who scorned cops for pummeling down on the innocent when they were supposed to be protectors - stepping up to try and save his life meant a love bigger than anything else you could have done.
And he was terrified of it. There was a big justice in your love for him. And to him, there was an even bigger justice in giving you an out to escape it - to escape loving him.
…
Hectic.
That was easily how you would describe the last few days at Titans Tower.
Between the unexpected arrival of Rose - Dick taking on another stray because, like Rachel said, he couldn’t resist a bird with a broken wing. Finding out that she was related to one of the deadliest men on earth that the Titans apparently had previous history with. And then Jason going off on his own without telling you, some botched hostage trade, and the group picking up yet another stray - a strange boy who had saved Jason’s life. It was all a blur of hectic chaos that had you snapping your neck to keep up.
Sleep was scarce and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a proper meal.
But you weren’t truly worried about any of that.
Dust had been kicked up around your life, and you couldn’t wait for it to settle before you made your next important decision.
Even though the wounds were still tender, you knew that things were safe for now, and your number one concern was Jason.
The minute he had gotten in the door, even though he was slightly hobbled and clearly sore from whatever Deathstroke had done to him, he rushed out of your sight. He was clearly eager to get away from everyone like a wounded animal sulking away to lick his wounds in peace. And when you had chased him, ignoring a nagging pain in your own side from the fight, he had slammed his bedroom door in your face, entirely uncaring of the fact that you called out his name, concerned for him.
The rest of the group was distracted with Conner - not knowing what he had been shot with or how to fix it. You hated it, but in the eyes of the group, yet again, Jason and any of his problems fell to the back burner.
After you had taken a short shower and changed your clothes, you found yourself here. Standing in front of Jason’s closed bedroom door, hoping not to face another cold rejection.
You wondered if he would be sleeping, wondered if you should interrupt his peace. But you knew that sleep was unlikely after everything that had happened.
So you took the leap.
You raised a fist, once again pushing down that stinging pain coming from the right side of your stomach. You reasoned that it was probably nothing more than a bruise forming there. And you knocked on the door.
A few moments later, the door was jerked open, and Jason glared at you.
His eyes were dull and tired, and there was a large bruise forming on the side of his mouth. Probably one of many others that you couldn’t see, from the way he had been walking earlier. He likely hadn’t been sleeping, but you had disturbed him.
“What the hell do you want?” He grumbled out, his voice dull, lacking any true fight.
“I wanted to check on you.” You told him, entirely honest. “I know it might seem stupid, but I wanna see how you’re doing.”
Jason scoffed and rolled his eyes.
He wanted to agree that - yes, it was stupid. It should have been obvious how he was doing after being kidnapped, beaten, and dropped off a building. But he was an idiot who had gotten himself thrown headfirst into that mess, thinking he could handle it. And he didn’t need to go crying to you about how badly he had fucked up. He had made a poor choice and he deserved all of the consequences. It was a simple fact of life.
“I’m doing just fine, thanks.” Jason said, entirely snide and sarcastic. “Look, I don’t need your help, okay? So fuck off.”
It was a set of harsh, cutting words. But he thought getting distance from you would be best. This whole thing had woken him up from the sweet little fantasy the two of you had been participating in. He was a natural born fuck-up. And sure, he could have you for a while, play around a bit - but he could never truly make you happy. Eventually, he would fuck you up too. He was a harsh poison and it would be better if he got out of your life before you felt the full effects.
He moved to shove the door closed and upon instinct, you reached up and fought him on it. Unconsciously, you winced as a sharp pain came from the injury in your stomach, reaching for it with your free hand as you held the door open with the other. It should have been no big deal. With your meta abilities, you usually healed quicker. You weren’t even used to feeling it when you got hurt. You were probably just feeling it worse because you were tired.
You tried to ignore the pain. But in a moment, Jason’s eyes went wide with worry as his gaze darted from your face, knit with pain, to where your hand was nursing the injury. Any sense of smarmy discontent dropped from his features, immediately being replaced with a softness and worry for you.
“You’re hurt.” He said quietly.
He let the door fall open again, reaching for your hand to inspect the injury himself.
“I’m fine.” You played the card this time, exchanging his lie for your own.
It was an odd play. He had lied about not being so torn up inside, emotionally devastated as he was, and now you were lying about not being physically injured from the fight. The two of you made an odd, but perfectly matched pair.
Jason barreled right past your words, and you were easily pliant to his touch as he removed your hand from the injury. You certainly were not expecting for him to find anything incriminating under your hand. But he glared at you when he found bright red spread across your palm, a glossy wetness leaking through your shirt.
“You’re bleeding.” He grunted at you.
Clearly, he was disappointed in the fact that you had neglected to bring this injury to the group’s attention. Pissed off at the fact that you weren’t in the medbay with Conner receiving some treatment right now.
Maybe you could blame it on the chaos. Maybe you could blame it on the fact that with everyone so emotionally distraught, you didn’t want to be just another problem for everyone to fuss over.
“Whoops.” You breathed out sarcastically. “I didn’t even notice.”
That last part was honest. In all the adrenaline, all your worrying over whether or not Jason was going to live as you watched him dangle so high off the ground - you truly hadn’t paid any mind to the injury.
“You didn’t-?” Jason huffed out in anger, but didn’t bother finishing the sentence.
Perhaps he partially understood himself, knowing how the adrenaline from a fight could stamp out pain. Or perhaps he knew how truly stubborn you were and he didn’t want to waste his energy arguing with you.
“You need this treated.” He added on.
No matter how fucked in the head he was, he never wanted to see you hurt. That was something he would definitely waste his energy on - wearing down your stubbornness until you let him or someone else in the house take care of the injury properly.
“Conner is worse off than I am.” You shrugged. “He needs the attention more.”
“Then let me help you.” He said, an impatient nagging rising up in his throat. “Bruce gave me some first aid training. One thing that means I’m not totally useless.”
The words made your chest ache for him, a pain that easily competed with the bleeding wound.
“Jason-”
You wanted to argue with him. You wanted to tell him he had infinite worth to you.
But of course, he cut you off.
“Just go sit on the bed.” He told you, quiet, but a firm command that you couldn’t ignore.
He gently pushed past you, on a quest for some supplies to patch you up with. You then found yourself drifting into his room almost mindlessly, your hand clutching the wound again upon instinct. It was a place that you felt oddly at home. The nights you had spent in that bed since coming to Titans Tower, your head delightfully empty as he had fucked you hard and fast - they were by far your favourites.
You would say it was because of the sex, and not just because you got to be wrapped up in Jason’s arms. Maybe everything had changed. Maybe your answers were different now. Maybe you were raw and tender and Jason wasn’t prepared to chase you in that devotion.
But that was just the thing. With you and Jason, there was never any sense of devotion. You and Jason were always hard and fast. Teasing each other, verging on the edge of vengeful. It was a flame that burned intensely hot - but it was never anything soft. It was never anything that prompted you to knock on his door so late, wanting to check on his well being. It was nothing that prompted you to make chase to put your life on the line for him.
Even just knowing that he had the intent to attend to your injury, called himself useful because of it - the thought cradled you like a warm blanket. It had you balancing on the edge of a dam holding back a barrage of feelings that you had been quelling down since the moment you had first put your lips on his.
“I told you to sit.” Jason’s voice came from behind you.
He had raided the infirmary and now had a handful of supplies - luckily without anyone seeing him or questioning why. When you turned to him, he was closing the bedroom door behind him, sealing you both in with this newfound soft intensity, the tired lull of two people unwilling to hold back that softness anymore. It was entirely dangerous, and entirely life-saving at the same time; and neither of you realized it.
“Since when do you get to boss me around?” You told him, your voice low and lacking any true spirit or sarcasm.
It was in the same vein as the banter the two of you usually threw around - bickering about who was a bigger asshole, who was more stubborn, who was better in bed.
You expected some kind of sexual comment in return. You could almost hear it now - he was the boss of you because he made you melt on his cock, made you mindless and dumb with it.
But, no dice.
The longer you stared at him, catching bits of the fresh pain swimming through those gorgeous blue eyes, you wished so badly for the mischief and sarcasm and light to come back and bite you the way that it used to.
It only made your stomach churn harder at the whole situation. Things had officially changed between you and Jason. You had yet to find out if it was for the better, or for the painstakingly worse.
Jason sighed through his nose.
“You can be such an asshole sometimes.” He told you. Coming from him, and given the nature of your relationship, you knew it was almost a compliment. “Will you just sit down and let me help you?”
Even though you were utterly terrified of the swelling of emotions you felt, bound to come to a head - you did.
You sat on the edge of the bed and he placed the supplies beside you.
When he mumbled out a quiet ‘lay back’, and you did, his cool fingertips at the hem of your shirt pulling it upward felt strangely more intimate than any other time you had been in this same position. It wasn’t heady, you weren’t granted the distraction of his mouth on yours and his tongue shoved between your lips while a harsh throbbing nagged between your legs.
This was quiet, and calm, and gentle.
When you caught his eye above you as he wiped away the blood with some clean gauze, you saw nothing but pity and worry and sparkling affection for you. You almost dared to call it something as epic and dangerous as love, buried deep in his eyes. He worked with the most delicate touch, almost as if he was afraid to break you, before he glanced down and inspected the wound.
His brow furrowed with even more intense worry, guilt nipping at his insides when he got a good look at it.
“I think I see a bullet in here.” He told you, and then he moved around the bed and grabbed his phone, turning on the flashlight to have a better light to inspect it. You felt intensely naked, intensely caught when he began shining the light on your stomach with a harshly inquisitive look across his face. “Definitely something shiny. You got shot and you didn’t fucking tell anyone?”
It was only then that you realized when you had gotten the wound - the exact moment clicking into place in your mind.
“It was only a ricochet.” You argued quietly. “It’s not that bad.”
Jason scoffed and rolled his eyes, and began sorting out his supplies, preparing to pull out whatever was lodged inside of you.
…
Dick explicitly told you to stay put.
They only wanted the more experienced Titans, the Varsity squad on the case when dealing with Deathstroke. He blamed young naive incompetence as the reason Jason had gotten captured in the first place. You blamed him and Bruce pushing Jason out, making him feel like he needed so desperately to prove himself. But it was something Dick wasn’t ready to hear - an argument you weren’t going to have with the very stubborn team leader.
Instead, you went for the silent route. You trailed the rest of them out of Tower, and when Dick strayed away from the rest of the group, his head on a swivel as he glanced back and forth, seemingly wanting to assure that none of the others were following him - you followed your gut instincts and went after him.
You hid in the shadows and the moment that Deathstroke hit the button and those panels scrolled up, revealing Jason stranded on that scaffolding - you couldn’t help yourself.
“Jason!”
You screamed out his name, you leapt forward.
Dick didn’t have time to scold you, not before the gunfire started.
Kory came out of nowhere - seemingly, she had the same idea as you. Putting her life on the line for an emotionally repressed man that she hadn’t admitted her feelings for. But she was there because she was in love with the other Robin. (Or rather, a man who claimed over and over again that he wasn’t Robin.)
Things quickly became a blur - flashes of flame as Kory fought, battling with the muzzle flashes from Deathstroke’s guns, limbs flying as they fought each other. You didn’t see it, but Deathstroke raised and aimed at you as you rushed toward the window, blindly going after Jason. In response, Dick charged forward, redirecting the gun as he pulled the trigger. You heard the sharp ‘ping’ sound of metal on metal - what you couldn’t see was the bullet hitting one of the metal beams in the ceiling. But you certainly felt it when it sliced into your side.
At the time, it was nothing compared to the fear you felt for Jason.
His eyes were wide with terror, and you could only focus on getting him to safety. You had no idea that a large part of his panic came from seeing you in the building. He had hoped that Dick would keep you away from all of this. But there you were, standing a few feet away from a man with a gun who was shooting around wildly. Jason would have delighted in being dropped off the building to his death if he had to see you get fatally shot when he could do nothing but squirm on the other side of the glass.
You put two hands on the glass, banging on it - of course, it was no use. It was inches thick, meant to keep people from going through it at this height. Working entirely on instinct, you put your palms flat across it and began forming ice crystals over it, hoping to make it rigid and breakable if it was frozen.
Once there was enough ice, you quickly looked around and spotted a metal pipe there for the in-progress construction of the building, so you grabbed it and rushed to smash the glass with it. You felt victorious as it shattered, and Jason flinched away from the shards, putting you one step closer to freeing him.
Though the moment the glass was cleared, leaving the wind whipping around you, his first words of greeting to you were not celebratory.
“What the hell are you doing here?” He barked at you, clearly angry with you.
You felt a dull ache in your chest at this. You thought he might be relieved, happy, pleased. At the time, you couldn’t interpret his harsh reaction as worry for you possibly getting hurt.
Nonetheless, you ignored his harshness. You would save him, whether he wanted to be saved or not. You draped your body through the window, reaching out to him. You made an effort to keep most of your weight planted on the floor of the building, in case the scaffolding wasn’t stable enough to hold two people at once.
“What do you think?” You replied, pure sarcasm dripping through your voice as you reached behind Jason and began fiddling with the rope around his wrists.
The position put the two of you in intensely close proximity. Jason caught a whiff of your unique scent, the shower gel you used that mingled with your body’s natural oils; and he felt so painfully at home. For the first time that night, he held back tears. He couldn’t help but to lean his forehead on your shoulder, taking comfort in having you so near after being on edge and terrified for so many hours. You resisted the urge to run a hand through his hair, to cradle him and give him further comfort. You forced yourself to focus on the task at hand - getting him to safety.
Behind you, at the very back of the room, Dick and Deathstroke wrestled with the remote for the explosives attached to the scaffolding.
Just as you managed to get Jason’s wrists freed, Deathstroke hit the switch, and the bombs went off.
…
You winced loudly as Jason dabbed at the wound with disinfectant.
“I would say sorry… but, you’ll thank me later when this isn’t swollen and leaking puss.” He told you, throwing you a small smirk.
It was smug. It was the usual kind of humor that he gave you.
It was comforting to know that every trace of the Jason you knew hadn’t been stolen by Deathstroke.
You held your breath as he pressed down with the medicine-covered gauze again, drawing much less of a reaction out of you this time.
“Great mental image, Jay.” You replied, your voice dull. It lacked any of the true bite you wanted to deliver in response to him. “I’m sure it’s such a turn-on thinking about my puss.”
It was meant to be a joke. But even unconsciously, it was an acknowledgement of that dangerous line - the line between truly caring and just using someone for sex. The line between having someone in your life as a body to get off with, and being so… homely with them.
You and Jason were towing that line dangerously. It was a thread that you were balancing on, and it would either break, or you would cross to the other side and be forever bonded to him.
Jason shrugged. “Maybe I don’t have to be turned on by you all the time.”
There was more stuck in his throat. Another dangerous acknowledgement of that line.
‘Maybe I just have to care.’
Both of you lulled into silence because neither of you dared to say it.
After a few moments, Jason put down the gauze and hesitated to reach for the tweezers. He knew that pulling the bullet out would be painful, but inevitable. It was a lot like the state of your relationship with him. Break it off, and find happiness elsewhere, or acknowledge this big thing swelling to fruition between the two of you. Have Jason fuck it up eventually. Painful, but inevitable.
“You shouldn’t have to be hurt like this.” Jason said quietly. “You shouldn’t have gotten hurt for my sake.”
There it was again - words with a dangerous double meaning.
You looked up at him, pure pain knit across his face, and for a moment he looked from the tweezers to you and he could hardly stand holding your gaze.
‘It’s worth it.’ You wanted to say. ‘For you, I’d bear any pain.’
The words lived and died behind your eyes, and your tongue decided on something else entirely.
“It’s nothing.” You told him.
You downplayed the pain, pretending that the injury was only a minor inconvenience for you. And in the grand scheme of life, it was. With time, it would heal. Losing Jason would be something you’d never heal from.
Jason shook his head at this statement.
He forced himself to reach for the tweezers then. He handed you his phone, a silent agreement that you would hold the light as steady as you could. He knew you well, too well, and he knew that you needed something else to focus on to push away the pain. He put his free hand on the plush of your stomach, pulling back slightly to hold the wound open while you held the light on it.
When the sharp metal of the tweezers breached your wound, you wanted to swear. You wanted to call him an asshole as the pain shot through you. You wanted to scold him for leaving the Tower and being kidnapped in the first place. But you knew that even if it was playful or sarcastic, fueled by the bite of your pain, it was not what he needed to hear right now. So instead, you held your breath, and gripped his phone hard, keeping the light steady as you bared the sharp shocks of pain.
After a moment of digging around that felt like an eternity, he pulled out the fragment and held it up to show you as you collapsed back against the bed, panting with tears stinging the edges of your eyes.
“It’s not nothing.” He declared sharply.
You couldn’t conjure a response. You knew he was right. And you didn’t want to be forced to admit it.
Instead, you turned off the light from his phone and relaxed into the bed, closing your eyes as he walked around to the trashcan and threw out the bullet fragment. It fell into the bottom of the plastic wastebasket with a very small ‘ping’ - making you wonder how something so small could cause so much trouble.
Jason quickly returned to you, dabbing more disinfectant into the wound in a way that made you groan and flex away from the touch. Once again, he did not apologize.
There were a few moments of muddy silence with nothing but your slightly labored breathing, trying to contain your sounds of pain so as to not make him feel any further guilt about the whole incident.
Your mind churned, and you couldn’t help the next words that came from your mouth.
“I meant what I said.” You told him.
At the sound of this, his hands immediately stilled. You felt his eyes on you, and you forced yourself to open your own and look up at him once again. He stared you down with intense examination. He looked for any ounce of falsity, any sign that you were lying, even posturing to make him feel better after everything that had happened.
He didn’t find any.
You thought he might acknowledge you, that he might say something back to return your mighty words. Instead, he simply reached for more gauze, and began putting a final bandage on your wound.
…
The explosion caused a sharp rattle through your ears. It shocked you and made you dizzy and put the whole world off-kilter. The only thing you could perceive past the mind-numbing hum in your brain was the feeling of Jason’s rough glove gripping tightly onto your wrist, so you gripped back as hard as you could.
When you blinked open your eyes, you were half-hanging out of the open window, the edge of the floor cutting into your waist as you held onto Jason by nothing but his wrist. His whole body weight created a harsh burn, straining on the muscles in your shoulder as you watched him dangle hundreds of feet above the street.
Panic flooded you.
You scrambled to reach out with your other hand, and the moment you moved, your shirt slipped against the sleek, polished material of the floor and you began sliding out the window. You gasped and Jason stilled his panicked flailing immediately.
“Don’t move!” He shouted.
“Give me your other hand so I can pull you up!” You shouted back.
Beyond the unpleasant hum of your eardrums rattling, you still heard chaos behind you. Gunshots, the grunts of fighting, Kory and Dick’s voices yelling. They were busy with Deathstroke, they couldn’t help you or Jason.
Jason looked up at you with glassy eyes.
He knew that with all his gear weighing him down, even with the training you had been doing, you wouldn’t be able to pull him up. Not by yourself. And if you weren’t careful, his body weight would just pull you out of the window and cause you to go tumbling down to your death along with him.
When you saw that frown etch across his lips, that filthy look of dawning - you glared at him.
“Give me your other hand!” You screamed, your voice raking across your throat like hot coals. A hot boiling rage at the fact that he seemed almost determined to die.
There was one thing he was determined about. If he was going to die, he wasn’t going to take you down with him.
His gloved wrist started to slip from your nervous, sweaty palm, and you tried hard to hold on tight. You formed large shards of ice, hoping you could create some kind of bond there by freezing your hand to his. But it would only be temporary with gravity trying to tear the two of you apart.
“You have to drop me, Y/N.” He said, nothing but pure mourning on his lips. “I’m dead weight.”
You both knew it was a horrendous double meaning.
He thought he was a dead weight to your life.
“No!” You immediately defied this thought, that feral rage ripping at your throat once again. “I’m gonna pull you up. I’m gonna pull you up!”
You reached your other hand down and tightly wrapped both of your hands around his wrist, yanking upward. The harsh movement caused you to slide even further out the window. You were now dangling dangerously over San Francisco with only the thickness of your thighs giving you any real stability on the intensely high up floor. It made you dizzy, and the only thing you had to focus on were the wet wells of Jason’s eyes staring up at you.
“It’s no use!” Jason said tearfully.
You ignored him.
You cast your chin over your shoulder, and began shouting.
“Help me!” You screamed, trying desperately to get the attention of Dick or Kory. “Help me! Fuck!”
“You have to let go.”
Jason’s words immediately shifted your focus back to him.
But of course, you refused.
“I’m not letting go of you!” You declared sharply. “Not that easily.”
As he stared up at your tearful eyes, he knew that you meant it as more.
Unfortunately, it was the one thing he was terrified of.
He thought that you saw him as some shiny perfect thing, something good and worth having in your life. He thought that you were incapable of seeing the poison, the true fuck-up that he was. If you didn’t let go of him, sooner or later, just like everyone else in his life, you were going to get burned.
So Jason did what he had to do.
He began prying your fingers off his wrist, trying his best to keep you stable while he forced himself from your grip.
“No!” You shrieked. “No, no, no-”
You didn’t have much room to fight him about it without falling out of the window yourself.
You made a move to readjust, to get a tighter grip on him - and it was the one deadly move that caused him to slip out of your touch completely.
You were forced to watch on in chest clenching horror, blinking through heavy tears as he began hurtling toward the ground.
…
If not for Conner - a literal miracle - swooping in and saving Jason at the last second, then you would have spent the rest of your life regretting those moments, wondering what you could have done differently to save him.
When Jason finished taping down the bandages, making sure the wound was clean and secure, he laid his palm flat on top of it. It was a kind of ‘kissing it better’ that instantly spread warmth curling through your gut. It was a touch so incredibly tender - especially compared to the heated, aggressive groping you were used to from him - that it caused a whimper from the back of your throat.
You knew it was unlikely, but you hoped that he hadn’t heard it.
“All done.” He said quietly.
You instantly felt regret when he took his hand away and began tidying up the medical supplies. But you forced yourself to sit upright, now feeling only muscle soreness and a much duller pain coming from the area. You felt intensely thankful for his care as you pulled your shirt back down, righting your clothes back into place.
“You’re free to go now.” Jason told you, his voice still low, as though a single decibel would shatter the delicate peace between the two of you.
You felt your heart sink.
In an instant, you understood what it was - he was concerned about your physical wellbeing, but he didn’t actually want to have you around. Just like his reaction to you showing up at the hostage exchange - he didn’t want your presence there.
You heaved a sigh and got off the bed as Jason busied himself with gathering up the used gauze to throw it away. As you put your hand on the doorknob, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to leave.
It was something else.
It had to be something else.
Jason hadn’t let himself drop off a building in some desperate ploy just to get away from you. He had been trying to save you.
He was so utterly willing to give his life for yours.
And now he was trying to back down from that.
You turned and faced him, leaving the door closed. When he turned from ditching things in the wastebasket, he froze. He was entirely surprised that you were still there.
The two of you locked eyes, both staying still - like a predator and prey locked in a stalemate, wondering who would run first.
In this situation, you weren’t sure who was the prey.
You were both so vulnerable.
Jason thought it would be selfish to get caught up in all of this, to finally admit those dangerous feelings he had for you. When he cared for things, he usually ended up breaking them. Of course, it was never on purpose - he was an idiot. Everything he touched, he fucked up. He had made that more than evident with his last braindead plan, the outing to prove that he was worthy of being Robin. Something that had gotten you shot, probably could have gotten you killed.
If you stuck with him any longer, you probably would end up being killed. And he would never forgive himself for that.
He would be better off ripping himself from your hold, as much as it hurt. Giving you a dose of that heartbreak now so that you could get over him and go after better things.
As you stared at Jason, you could see all the pain boiling underneath his surface. You wondered what he was thinking, what the hell he was churning over in that intense brain of his - but you didn’t dare to ask.
You knew that he needed to be held right now - in every sense of the word. You knew that he needed to be cared for the way he had cared for your wound, pushing past the pain in order to heal. You wondered if he would lay down and bear it or if he would continue to fight you.
You were the one to bravely step forward. Though Jason was tempted to ask you to leave, that thing inside of him yearning to marinate in his isolation because he deserved it, he pushed it down. He let his hands naturally come to sit on the plush comfort of your waist as you put a gentle touch on both his shoulders, leaning into his body ever so slightly.
You laid your forehead on his cheek, right next to that ugly bruise that had been left on him, and he let out a contented sigh as he felt your warmth envelope him. For the first time since his feet had touched the ground, he felt calm. He felt safe.
You smoothed a hand across his shoulder, and raised your head, using your touch to gently tip his face toward yours. He quickly realized that your intention was to kiss him. And something ached in his heart - something painful and longing. He knew that it would not be needy and haste with the intention of pile-driving toward sex like your other kisses had been. He knew that it would be the metamorphosis of your relationship that he was not prepared to go through.
He nuzzled along your forehead, gently stopping you.
“Please don’t do this.” He murmured quietly into your skin.
He knew that it would break him.
He knew that this was the moment - like Gatsby reaching up toward the stars - this would be the moment that he was tied to you forever, damned by his love for you. Only, much different than Gatsby, he wasn’t destined for some grant fate if he didn’t have you. He was on a one way path to a messy death, and he was determined not to take you down with him.
Tears pricked the edges of his eyes at the thought.
You pulled back, just enough to properly look him in the eyes, and your own tears formed when you saw that pathetic puppy dog looking back at you.
“Why not?” You demanded, much sharper than you intended. You knew he was fragile and you didn’t want to upset him any further than he already was.
“You know why.” He replied, his voice barely scraping above a whisper as the emotion clutched at his throat.
Jason wanted to hold onto you forever, but he was also a realistic person. He expected that any minute now, you would rip away from his arms and charge out the door, entirely angry with him, and this would finally be over. You would finally be safe from him - safe from any nasty fate his life could conjure up for you.
You hated what he was asking of you - asking you not to care for him anymore. As if you could somehow switch it off. Impossible.
“I meant what I said.” You repeated yourself, still entirely firm in this conviction. “I’m not gonna let you go that easily.”
You leaned in, planting your lips on his in a light kiss. A pained sigh ripped through you when he didn’t make any moves to kiss you back.
“Jason, please.” You whimpered out desperately. “If you get to bandage my bullet wound, then I get to do this.”
Jason wanted to spell it all out for you, plain and dirty. He wanted to get angry, he wanted to scream. He wanted to rush along the inevitable. He wanted to tell you what a poison he was to the world, that he deserved to die and you deserved better things. But he had the utmost feeling that you wouldn’t listen.
“Please, stop pushing me away.” You whispered against his lips.
Instead, he listened to your plea. He let himself indulge in this selfish softness for once.
He reached up and grabbed your jaw, pulling you into a firmer kiss, declaring every ounce of passion and terror that he was feeling in those moments. You answered it all right back - digging your fingers into the shoulders of his shirt, letting out a hot huff against his cheek as you leaned into his body.
He would never be perfect - but he was yours.
...
Final note: yes, I used to be @/pinkchubbiebunnie. That is still my username on AO3, so if you saw this fic posted on there, it is my fic. Please do not accusing me of plagiarising fics if you see this, because this is my own fic. This is my new blog. Feel free to follow me if you’re interested in my fanfiction and thoughtful discussions of the media that I enjoy.
Clingy
Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (BAU!reader)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
WC: 3.7k
Summary: You tended to be very expressive with your friends when showing your affection. Whether it showed in pet names or physical touch. Only thing is, Spencer thinks he’s falling in love with you, and all of your sweet affectionate actions are starting to take a toll on his unrequited heart. At least, he thinks it’s unrequited.
Tags: there’s a tiny bit of miscommunication but not too much that it will make your head explode like it does mine. Make out but nothing grown/spicy. Friends to lovers. A bit of hurt/comfort
A/N: Not beta read don’t kill me! yoooo spence is so in denial about her feelings in this but lol so real king. This is mostly from his POV but I had to cheat a few times. Hope i can live up to the hype that complimentary colors was. I low key don't like this one as much but had to execute it cause the idea was cute.
You were starting to drive him insane. Criminally insane. You could invade his thoughts at any waking moment of his day and take over his mind. Every affectionate pet name, every soft fleeting touch, hell every time you look at him, he would replay the moment in his mind like a broken record. If he was in a crowded room, his eyes would always fall on you.
After being with the BAU for a while you became good friends with your coworkers. And with that, came your habit of calling your friends sweet nicknames. Anything from sweetie, to honey, to babes, and the one that broke his heart the most, my love.
At first he didn’t understand why you were using terms of endearment that were typically used in a romantic relationship, but in a platonic way. At some point he caught on that you were similar to Garcia when it came to expressing your love for friends. Similar to her and the way she has her own sweet silly way of expressing how she cares.
Nevertheless, some small part of his heart still broke when you called him those names. He adored your sweet caring nature and the fact that you cared enough about him to call him terms of endearment. But every time a nickname fell from your lips, he was reminded you only meant it platonically.
It was his own personal torture to constantly be reminded he would never be your sweetie, your honey … your love. But the nicknames weren’t enough to drive him insane. While it drove him to the brink of insanity, he was able to keep his head somewhat still on his shoulders.
Not long after the heart warming but crushing nicknames, you showed your true love language. Physical touch. It showed in many forms. It could show when poking JJ in the shoulder and giving Emily a high five. Or nudging Morgan in his side with your elbow. You even managed to get a fist pump from Hotch and Rossi. And of course the welcome and goodbye hugs from Penelope.
You were a bit hesitant at first to express this love language of yours with Spencer due to his aversion to touch and germs. However, you observed that he would gratefully receive occasional touches. Whether it be a hug, high-five, or even the rare ruffle of his hair -which of course would be from Morgan. So you approached him and asked if he was comfortable with physical contact.
When it came to you, he was more than comfortable. You could take him in your arms and he would simply melt into a puddle on the floor. Except he didn’t say that and his reply was closer to a mix of stuttering and rambling about how you could never make him uncomfortable and how he just doesn’t like germs.
Now he’s not saying he regrets his choices. He wouldn’t ever take it back. He enjoys every single lingering touch between the two of you. Actually “enjoys” would be a severe understatement. Every single time you ruffle his hair, lean your head on his shoulder, or even just carefully touch his arm, it was as if a thousand volts of electricity were flowing through him. Like he could light up the city even. You were the best part of his days and the reason breath filled his lungs. You brought a light into his life that made him feel safe and warm.
He desperately wanted your affection, your attention, your touch, to mean something more than he knew it to be. But sooner or later, touch after touch, he started to go insane. Somewhere along the way he had daydreamed so deep he had lost his mind.
You had officially driven Spencer Reid insane.
He was promptly whisked away from his thoughts when he felt the tap of a folder on his shoulder and a light thump on his desk.
“Hotch wants to know your thoughts on the consultation from Colorado,” you started.
He blinked back into focus glancing at the papers on his desk.
“Hey, you alright?” You asked with concern. “You look like your head is in the clouds.”
“I’m fine, just lost in thought,” he answered with a small smile reassuring you.
“Don’t get too lost. Can’t have your genius brain short circuiting on us.” You chuckled as you took a small step closer to him and playfully ruffled his hair.
“I’ll try not to,” he grinned and pushed his hair back after you messed with it.
“Well I’ll be back soon, my love. Gotta go bother Penelope,” you joked before making your way out of the bullpen.
His gaze was lingering on you as you left. His thoughts started to drift to you again as his cheeks turned pink.
“I’ll be back soon, my love,” Morgan mimicked in a higher pitched voice with a grin as he approached Spencer's desk. In response Spencer turned his chair away from Morgan to hide his now red face.
“When are you two going to start dating? You guys already act like a couple.”
“We do not act like a couple,” Spencer argued. “She just sometimes calls me pet names, that's normal for her.”
“You don’t see it do you?” Morgan furrowed his eyebrows and was seconds away from chuckling. “She’s been giving you quite a bit of attention lately. Practically clinging onto you.”
“I mean I- I don’t think so. She does that with everyone, it's not just me. She just happens to be very affectionate with friends.” He answers as his voice almost cracked.
Morgan shook his head, “Oh no it’s more than that. Have you ever noticed that she calls you “my love” but she calls us “love”? Or when we’re on a long flight back home and you two are all cuddly on the jet. How she always seeks out your company and finds an excuse to talk to you or about you.”
Spencer couldn’t speak. He had so many words on the tip of his tongue but his voice wouldn’t make a sound. He sat frozen and mouth slightly agape as his brain started to go into overdrive.
Morgan's face softened at Spencer's reaction. “It’s different with you kid. Friends don’t act like that.”
“You and Garcia do.” Spencer countered, this time definitely with a voice crack. Morgan lightly chucked. He was well aware that his and Penelope’s friendship was a bit different than other male/female friendships.
“Okay you got me there, but you and Y/N aren’t me and Garcia. We may flirt with each other a lot but that’s our thing. You two have this care for each other like nothing I've ever seen.”
Spencer was left stunned once again and Morgan could practically see the gears in his head turning.
“You may not notice it now, or hell you may not let yourself notice it now, but it’s true.”
Those words rang in the back of Spencer's mind for days. Of course on a regular basis you would occupy his mind at any given moment. But now it wasn’t just thoughts about you. His mind was over analyzing almost every interaction between you and him, trying to find what Morgan had talked about. Some form of evidence that proved what you felt for him was beyond what he had initially thought.
He was recounting all the recent times you had approached him out of the members of your team. He recalled all the times you were either hanging out or on the jet and you found yourself tracing patterns on his arm. He was rethinking when you started to use nicknames around him and how it could be different with him than with others. It turned out Morgan might be right, as Spencer realized the numerous times you referred to Garcia or Emily as “love”, but in the rare instance you said “my love” it was only ever directed to him.
The idea of you liking him back had become an all consuming thought, but he was too terrified to ask you. What if Morgan was wrong? Profilers have been wrong before. He became petrified by the idea of asking you about it and possibly finding out his feelings were unrequited. But most of all, he was scared of losing you. Scared that if he brought it up he would make things awkward and ruin your friendship. He couldn’t lose you, not over something as trivial as his feelings.
Unfortunately the mental toll this was taking on his mind started to show. Not so obvious that the everyday person would notice, but you weren’t an everyday person. You grew to know him like the back of your hand. So of course you started to notice the little changes in his behavior. His ever so slight flinch when you would initially touch him. His eyes which used to linger on you and catch your eyes from across the room, now focused almost anywhere you weren’t. The way his body froze when you placed a hand on his shoulder. The way his eyes partially widened when you called him anything other than his name.
He tried to hide his worries from you, but you could tell something was bothering him.
Something about you.
His overall behavior didn’t reflect that he was avoiding you or distancing himself from you. He still talked to you and acted around you like normal. Instead it felt like he was holding himself back from receiving or truly appreciating your affection the way he used to.
~
Days had passed and the team was sent on a case. While this case was an emotional rollercoaster for everyone, it had affected you the most. The victims had reminded you of yourself and the unsub and all of his delusional reasoning for his actions had hit very close to home.
The team caught the unsub and closed the case quite late in the evening. Everyone was exhausted after the grueling past few days and decided to spend the night at the hotel to rest and leave in the morning. You however, still felt an ache in your stomach from all the anxiety felt throughout the day. You couldn’t seem to relax and let that weight off your shoulders. So you went to the one person who could help.
Spencer was getting ready to go to sleep, peacefully reading a book in bed when he got a knock on his door. He placed his book down and when he opened the door he was greeted by you in pajama pants and a zip up hoodie, clearly also winding down for the night.
“Hey,” you greeted.
“Hi, what’s up? Is everything okay?” he asked, a bit concerned as to why you showed up at his hotel so late at night. He opened the door wider signaling you were welcome inside. You entered the room and stuffed your hands in your pockets as he closed the door.
“I’m okay I just …” you cleared your throat. “I know this case has been a tough one but today’s been really hard for me. I’m still wired and awake, I can’t seem to relax enough to go to sleep,” You abruptly stopped your rambling to catch your breath.
“This might sound dumb but, I’m in desperate need of a hug right now,” you finally admitted quietly.
He hated seeing you so timid and closed off. How you made yourself smaller than you were, all because you were asking for your basic needs to be met.
“You don’t have to explain yourself.”
“Huh?”
“You don’t have to explain why you need a hug. You can just ask,” he said reassuringly.
“Oh.”
“Physical contact has been shown to increase levels of dopamine, serotonin, and even oxytocin; therefore, decreasing levels of stress and anxiety. Some people might even argue that physical touch is a fundamental element of being human and experiencing life.” His other way of trying to validate your feelings was of course rambling a string of facts and information from his fingertips.
You couldn’t help but smile. God he loved it when you smiled.
“So is that a yes?” you asked since you never exactly got an answer from your question in the first place. Even though you knew what his answer was.
The corners of his lips turned into a grin. “Come here,” he says with outstretched arms.
You practically ran into him at his offer. He wrapped his arms around you as you placed yours around his neck. He wished this moment could last forever. All while at the same time Morgan's previous statements were circling around in his head.
He tried his best to push them away. He tried to tell himself this was not you acting on any potential feelings for him. This was simply you reaching out to a friend in need.
He took note of the way you held onto him so tightly, almost as if he could leave at any second. It made his heart ache.
“You feel tired,” he almost whispered.
“I am,” you mumbled back, face buried in his neck.
“Do you wanna lie down?”
You lightly patted him on the back, “Don’t worry I’ll leave you be and go to sleep soon. I just need a minute
“I meant … I meant do you want to lie down here?” He stammered. “So you’re not alone. You seem like you need a friend right now.”
His own heart almost cracks when he says friend. But that’s what you need right now, a friend.
“I’d like that,” you said with a small smile.
You separate from him and he leads you to the bed holding your hand. He sits down against the headboard and waits for you to join him.
You awkwardly sit down on the bed, eyes darting in all directions of where he’s sitting. “I- what should I …”
“You could sit down the way you do on the jet,” he kindly offers.
You relax at his words and move to sit at his side. He wraps his arm around you as you rest your head against his shoulder. You both sat there in a moment of silence, enjoying eachothers company. He was getting lost in the sweet smell of your perfume; the small bit of it that still lingers from the long day you’ve had.
He started to recall all the times you two would be close like this. It didn’t happen very often. Sometimes on a long jet ride home from a long or stressful case. Or sometimes when the team went out for drinks and you would be tired from dancing. In the rare occasions you two were like this, you would tend to draw patterns on his arm or leg.
So he decided to finally return the favor. With the arm he had wrapped around you, he started to dance his fingertips over your upper arm.
He felt you practically melt into him at the action. If you could get any closer to him, you did.
He continued tracing your arm with an overwhelming amount of care. It made you consider his previous actions compared to how welcome you were now in his arms.
“Spencer, I’m gonna ask you something, and I need you to be completely honest with me,” you spoke with a hidden hesitation in your voice.
“Of course I’ll be honest to you. I always will be,” he furrowed his brows at the thought of you being scared of him lying to you.
You let out a small, almost shaky breath. “Am I clingy?” you murmured.
This made his hand on your arm stop. He shifted his sitting position so he could face you better but also didn’t want to let you out of his hold.
“No, never,” he told you with assurance. “Why would you think you’re clingy?”
He saw you hesitate once more before you gave him your reply. “I was just overthinking things. Worried I was taking the physical contact thing too far or that I’m a bit too affectionate at times.“
“Why would you be worried? You’d never take things too far. You’ve always been respectful of other people’s boundaries.”
You sighed with a shaky breath. He could practically see through you and see you considering your response.
“Because I thought I was making you uncomfortable.” you looked down to avoid his gaze.
He was quiet for a second, absolutely baffled as to how you would think you could ever make him uncomfortable. “Why?” His question was a barely audible whisper.
“You seemed different. All of a sudden you would freeze when I touched you. You became jumpy and skittish when I talked to you. I thought I was too much for you but you didn’t want to tell me about it.”
You shifted away to face him and his hand fell from your arm. You fidgeted with the sleeves of your hoodie as your face went blank.
“You could never be too much for me,” he spoke with a soft voice. He tried to reach his hand out to hold yours but your hand disappeared in your sleeve at his touch.
“Then why were you different all of a sudden?” You narrowed your eyes at him.
His cheeks started to turn pink, “I- I wasn’t.”
“Yes you were.”
“Y/N please,” he begged.
“Spencer,” you whispered as your eyes bore into his. “You said you’d be honest with me.”
He licked his lips and his face turned red. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He couldn’t find an escape route. He had no choice but to tell you. And once the flood gate opened, he would never be able to close it.
“I was freaking out,” he blurted.
“I was freaking out because Morgan implanted this idea in my head that you might possibly have feelings for me based on the way you act around me. I’ve been obsessed with that thought since he mentioned it. So I freaked out almost every time you touched me, talked to me, even looked at me,” he rambled on anxiously as he tried to explain himself. No holding back now.
“I tried not to let it change my behavior but I guess it did and I am so sorry for that. I never wanted to give you the impression that I was uncomfortable. To be honest I don’t think you could ever make me uncomfortable”
You were silent for a moment. He couldn’t read your reaction. Your eyebrows slightly raised with your lips parted. He could only see surprise, which was typical, he just didn’t know if this kind of surprise was good.
“Why were you so obsessed with the idea of me having feelings for you?”
He could’ve sworn his heart was going to beat out of his chest at any moment.
“Because I think I’m falling in love with you.”
Here we go. Flood gates.
“The idea you might like me back became an all consuming thought because I never before thought it was possible and I never wanted to get my hopes up. Actually, I pretty much think about you all the time so it wasn’t that far from normal. ”
“You’re falling in love with me?” you asked barely above a whisper.
“Yes,” he spoke softly with full confidence.
The only change to your appearance was your eyes widened a bit more. It made Spencer's heart sink to his stomach.
“Listen, I understand if this makes things weird between us and I am so sorry. I just couldn’t ..”
He couldn't finish his thought, you were too busy locking your lips with his. It was a sweet but cautious kiss, almost as if you were testing the waters in uncharted territory. You felt him freeze against you so you leaned away, breaking from the kiss.
Not even seconds later Spencer placed a hand on your face and was diving back into the kiss with fervor. You instantly reacted as your arms found their way around his neck and your hand was digging in his hair. The kiss was intoxicating. Both of you trying to get a taste of the other after what felt like eons of pinning.
He wrapped his arms around your waist while his one hand snuck up to the small of your back where your hoodie had exposed your skin. It sent a shiver up your spine while you let out a shaky breath against his lips. You tried shifting in your seat to somehow get closer to him. With his hands against your waist he helped guide you to sit in his lap straddling him.
When you finally break from the kiss your faces are red and Spencer rests his forehead against yours. You focus on the sound of his breath and the feeling of your heart practically beating in your ears.
Your hand moves to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. “I guess I didn’t do a very good job at showing I had feelings for you.”
The corners of his mouth lift up into a giddy smile. “No, you did. I’m just oblivious.”
“Sounded like you were in denial,” you lightly teased.
“That too,” he chuckles.
After a moment of enjoying each other's presence, you pull away from him just far enough to look him in the eyes.
“I know I call everyone pet names, but every time I used them with you, I wanted it to mean something more. Part of me would always hope you would one day call me those names back,”
Spencer swore his heart could give out at any second. He never expected to hear this from you and it made him lightheaded.
“This may sound childish but.. I never craved attention so badly, until you gave me yours,” you added.
He licked his lips and smiled. With his hands still on your waist he traced mindless patterns at your sides. “You have my complete and undivided attention, my love.”
His words made you giddy. You bit your lip to keep yourself from giggling. Although, he would never be opposed to hearing your beautiful laugh.
There were no words to describe the way that you felt. So without thinking, you leaned forward once more to capture his lips with yours.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tag Requests: @nomajdetective
-
up-l4te-4t-n1ght liked this · 1 month ago -
tvdismylife liked this · 2 months ago -
lunabumbum liked this · 2 months ago -
eicspossible liked this · 2 months ago -
claire-edwards-98 liked this · 2 months ago -
leshgoopitooo liked this · 2 months ago -
allmybattleships liked this · 2 months ago -
idontknow1123 liked this · 3 months ago -
the7dreadlysins liked this · 4 months ago -
igavenoidewhy liked this · 4 months ago -
daisydark liked this · 4 months ago -
veve-walton78 liked this · 4 months ago -
bunnygotgame liked this · 5 months ago -
truereligonbby liked this · 6 months ago -
adalia-jaycee liked this · 6 months ago -
pinkponyclub24 liked this · 6 months ago -
icerisekiss liked this · 6 months ago -
4everrangelsophie liked this · 6 months ago -
kiannavalencia1998 liked this · 6 months ago -
iloveoranges123 liked this · 6 months ago -
no-whatismygender liked this · 6 months ago -
fallenisdead0 liked this · 6 months ago -
dreamfyrescorner liked this · 7 months ago -
ittybittybaker123 liked this · 7 months ago -
artimoons liked this · 7 months ago -
natsukicookies liked this · 7 months ago -
lenalele liked this · 7 months ago -
aviannahudson liked this · 7 months ago -
elizawayne30 liked this · 7 months ago -
fuzzycookietacopeach liked this · 8 months ago
-
jfjfjfjdjdjdjd liked this · 8 months ago
-
xoxo-shy liked this · 8 months ago -
disnerd626 liked this · 8 months ago -
saewifepink liked this · 8 months ago -
sleepygirl-inc liked this · 9 months ago -
thoughtfulslimecashoperator liked this · 9 months ago -
kanashiiit liked this · 9 months ago -
shhh423 liked this · 9 months ago -
bru1ns4l1fe liked this · 9 months ago -
forever-mady liked this · 9 months ago -
rainbow-alilou liked this · 9 months ago -
gagafatale liked this · 9 months ago -
mindadarksight liked this · 10 months ago -
atadoddinnit liked this · 10 months ago -
hollybinnisonx liked this · 10 months ago -
nan-nie liked this · 10 months ago -
hyuneskkami liked this · 10 months ago -
st4rrstrukk liked this · 10 months ago
18!she/her, Mexican, taking requests!!@batmanssonsgf on instagram and tiktok
206 posts