IM SOBBING

The Hero's Mission

Request:  None

Requested By:  Nobody

Prompt: “You're the hero, huh? I guess that makes me the villain."

Pairing:  Tom Riddle x Gryffindor!OC/reader

Summary:  The death of The Boy Who Lived requires the need of the Time Turner to change Tom Riddle for the better, saving dozens in the process. A Gryffindor has a different plan in mind, however.

Warnings:  mentions of death and murder

A/N:  Sorry for the wordcount. Not sorry for the Tom Riddle.

Word Count:  13K+

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He really did it.

Voldemort killed Harry Potter.

The world seemed to have screeched to a halt, everyone staring in disbelief at the dead boy.

The Dark Lord cackled.  “I’ve done it!  I killed The Boy Who Lived!”

Red flooded my vision.  I pulled out my wand, marching forward.  Just as I raised it to cast a spell, my arm was grabbed and I was dragged back into the castle.  I fought against it, turning to point my wand at whoever had a hold of me.

My eyes widened and I stopped.  “Professor McGonagall,” I breathed out quietly.

“Albus only wanted this used if absolutely necessary, but I believe this is the only way,” she said, letting go of me and reaching into her robe.

I blinked at her in confusion.  “Professor?”

She pulled out a chain, a tiny sand-timer dangling from the bottom.  Looping it around my neck, she looked me in the eyes.  “This is a Time Turner, allowing you to travel back in time.  You’ll need to return to the year 1945,” she told me.  “There is a young man there by the name of Tom Riddle.”  She looked back to where the battle had taken place, the sound increasing.  “He will become Lord Voldemort.”  Her gaze turned back to me, holding a shine of sternness, as well as concern.  “You need to go back and change him for the better.  It will save many lives.”

“Professor, I can’t-”

“You must, Miss King.  There are no other options.”

“But why me, Professor?”

She regarded me for a few moments.  “You will know, dear.”  Her eyes dropped to the time turner.  “The protection charm around that has been taken off, allowing you to go back more than five hours.  Take it and turn it backwards fifty times.  That should take you back to the right year.”

The noise got louder.

The Headmistress turned to me.  “Hurry, dear.”

I nodded, grabbing the time turner.  I began to spin it, counting up to fifty.  Once done, I looked up, staring at the castle wall in front of me.

It was similar to the wall I had been in front of before, though this wall was intact and clearly newer.  It possessed less scratches and burn marks.

Students walked past me and I quickly realized I stood out like a sore thumb.

Muttering a quiet “multicorfors” I waved my wand over my garments, making them look appropriate to the time period.  I stuffed my wand back in my robe, looking around.

Where to start?

A group of students walked by me.

I quietly slipped into step a few paces behind them, looking around casually in an attempt to not seem like I was obviously following them.

They unknowingly led me into the Great Hall, sitting down at their tables.

I stopped in the doorway, looking around for the Gryffindor table.  Spotting students wearing red ties, I strode over, trying not to seem suspicious.  Sitting down, my gaze raked over the room.

The Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables were behind me, the Slytherin table in front.

I scanned the Slytherin table for anyone that looked suspicious or evil.

Finding nothing out of the ordinary, I frowned, about to pause my search to eat, when my eyes landed on a boy seated amongst the Slytherins.

He was sitting up straight, talking with the people around him.  He had a lean figure, dark hair that fell over his forehead on one side and features that looked- at least from where I was sitting- like the perfect blend of soft and hard.

I stared at the boy for a few moments, completely sucked into his demeanor and appearance.

He was talking to the people around him, looking at one of his housemates.  His expression shifted slightly and he lifted his eyes, his focus landing almost instantly on me.

“-looking at?”

I whipped my head to the side to face the girl sitting next to me, grateful for the interruption.  My cheeks coloured slightly, no matter how much I tried to fight it.  “Me?  Nothing, I was just-” my eyes, quite without me telling them to, drifted back to the Slytherin table for only a fraction of a second.

They didn’t even have enough time to focus on anything.

“I have an idea…” one of the girls, sitting across from the other, said.  She smirked as she stabbed something with her fork.

“What?”  I recoiled.  “I was just getting used to my surroundings,” I said.

It was technically half true.

“I thought I didn’t recognize you,” the other girl said.  “Are you new to Hogwarts?”

I paused.  “Yeah.”

“What year are you,” she questioned.

“Seventh year.”

“It is a bit unusual for someone to join Hogwarts so late in their schooling,” the other said.

I cleared my throat.  “Well, I was transferred from a different school…..” I trailed off before quickly introducing myself.

“Nice to meet you, King.  My name is Margaret,” the girl sitting diagonally from me spoke.  She nodded her head to the girl sitting next to me.  “This is Joan.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Joan greeted.

I nodded.  “The pleasure is mine.”

“Class will be starting soon…” Margaret informed.  “Do you have your books?”

I faltered.  “Uh…no, I-I don’t.”

“You can borrow ours,” Joan assured.  She nodded her head at the brunette across from her.  “Margaret and I always sit next to each other.  You could sit with one of us, if you wish.”

My eyebrows furrowed.  “How many students can sit at a desk?”

“Two.”

I turned my head to Margaret.

She went on.  “You can sit with Joan.  I will find another seat.”

“Oh!  No- I can’t.”  I lifted my hands.  “I would hate to split you two up.”  I shifted my gaze between them.  “Is there an empty desk behind you?”

“There is.”

“Then I’ll sit there.”  I shrugged.  “No worries.”

They gave me confused looks.

I frowned.  “What’s wrong?”

“You…” Margaret trailed off.

“You say things in a most unusual way, King,” Joan said.

I pursed my lips.

Oh yeah.

“I… apologize,” I said, though it sounded more like a question.

They smiled.

“Come.  Let’s head to class.”

I followed their lead, standing with them.

A lot of other students were rising to their feet as well, presumably also heading to their classes.

My gaze drifted once again to the Slytherin table, seeing the boy already standing, scanning the crowd.

His eyes met mine again.

I quickly snapped my head back towards my classmates, wincing slightly at the pain my neck had received for it.  Following their lead, I stubbornly kept my gaze intentional, only allowing it to drift to the halls of the school, so familiar and yet so strange.

“Our first class is Potions,” Margaret informed.

I grimaced behind her back, quickly wiping the expression away when Joan turned around to face me.

“It is taught by Professor Slughorn,” she added.

I nodded, taking in the information.

The girls pushed the door open, stepping through.

“We usually sit here,” Margaret informed, gesturing at a desk in the middle of the room.  She turned to me.  “Are you certain you would not prefer to sit with one of us?”

I nodded.  “Positive.  I’ll just sit behind you.”

“Here.”  Joan reached into her bag, pulling out a book and handing it to me.  “Use this.  Margaret and I will share.”

I accepted the thick book, making a mental note of the fact that Potions textbooks seemed to stay about the same size, even decades apart.  “Thank you.”  Sitting down behind them, I placed the book on the desk before leaning forward.  “What page are we on?”

“Three-hundred forty seven,” Margaret whispered back.

I thanked her, turning to the correct page, guessing that the book was probably close to seven hundred pages.  Looking up, I noted that this class period was shared with the Slytherin house.

Once everyone was seated, Slughorn started speaking.

“We are picking up from where we left off last time.”  His gaze raked across the classroom.  “Chapter-” he paused, his eyes landing on me.  A confused expression formed on his face.

I did my best to keep sitting tall, my leg bouncing anxiously.

“Do we have a new student?”

All eyes in the classroom turned to face me.

I held my head high, determined to not cower under the weight.  I kept my eyes locked onto the man at the front of the class.  “Yes, Professor.”

He hummed.  “Curious.  I was not informed we would be getting a new student.”

“A mere mistake I’m sure, Professor.”

“Most likely.  What is your name, then?”

I introduced myself, eyes unintentionally shifting downwards slightly towards the dark haired boy seated at the front of the class.

He, like everyone else, was already looking at me.

I quickly raised my eyes to Professor Slughorn again.

“-sit with Miss King for her first lesson?  In case she needs any help?”

The boy turned to his teacher.  “Of course, Professor.”

With abject horror, I watched as the boy collected his things, walked towards the back of the classroom, and sat next to me.

I looked back to the front of the class.  “Professor, this really isn’t necessary-”

“The Head Boy will willingly assist you if needed, Miss King,” Slughorn said.  “If you get along well on your own, should he so choose, he may return to his own seat.”

I held in a sigh.  “Yes, Professor.”

“Good.”  He turned his back to the class to look at the chalkboard behind him.  “As we were talking about in the last class…”

I ran a hand through my hair, reaching for my quill to start to take notes.  My hand closed around nothing and I lifted my eyes to look at where my quill was supposed to be, only to get a foul reminder.

I wasn’t where- or rather when- I was supposed to be.

I had no supplies.

Deciding I would rather try to memorize what Slughorn was saying instead of asking the boy next to me for anything, I folded my right arm on the desk in front of me, staring towards the front of the class.

“You might want these, Miss King.”

I turned to the soft noise on my right.

Merlin, even his voice was lovely.

At closer proximity, I could better make out his features, greedily noting that everything- his eyebrows, lips, nose- were perfect.

His dark green eyes were staring down at me, shifting between my own.

Before I stared too long I- with some effort- pulled my gaze away from him to look at the parchment and quill he had slid towards me.

My eyes widened slightly.

“It seems, Miss King…” he trailed off and I could hear the smirk in his voice, “it was good luck that I was sent to sit next to you.”

I lifted my head to look at him.

He was, indeed, smirking.  His green eyes shone with kindness and just a hint of mischief.

“Thank you,” I said, grasping the quill and beginning to write as I tried to focus on what Slughorn was saying.

Merlin, that didn’t stop my leg from bouncing, though.

~~~~~~~~~

Class ended and I stood, handing the quill back to the Head Boy.

He looked up at me, still sitting, his gaze dropping to the object.

“Thank you for allowing me to use your quill,” I said, holding my notes at my side.

The boy lifted his gaze to meet my eyes.  “You may keep it,” he said as he stood, forcing me to now look up at his tall frame in order to meet his eyes.  He slung his bag around his shoulder.  “I have more.”

I nodded once.  “Thank you.”

The corner of his mouth pulled upwards.  “You are welcome, Miss King.”

“Come on, King,” Joan said, grabbing my arm.  “Our next class is this way.”

I gave one last look at the Head Boy, nodding my head again to signal a ‘farewell’ and a ‘thank you’ before allowing myself to be led out of the classroom.

~~~~~~~~~~

“This is Transfiguration, taught by Professor Dumbledore.”

I faltered in my steps, stopping in the hallway.

Professor Dumbledore.

It had been so long-

“...you alright, King?”

I blinked back into reality, looking over at Margaret and Joan’s concerned faces.  “Uh, sorry.”  I offered them a crooked grin.  “Go on; what were you saying?”

They talked, but I didn’t listen.  As we strode into Transfiguration class, my eyes instantly made their way to the front of the room.

A man was sitting behind a desk.  He had long white hair and a very welcome face.

“Professor Dumbledore,” I breathed out, relieved to see someone familiar.

To see the man that had been killed.

“Yes, that’s him,” Joan said.

“Here is the book for this class.”  Margaret handed me a textbook, which I accepted, though not really paying attention.

“Thanks,” I managed to get out before sitting in the only open seat; next to a Ravenclaw.  My eyes stayed locked onto the Professor as he began teaching.

~~~~~~~~~~

“And this is the Common Room,” Margaret said, leading me through the portrait of the Fat Lady.

I smiled slightly at the familiar face before being pulled in.

The room, though possessing some similarities to the Common Room in my own time, had notable differences.

The arrangements of the furniture were different, the furniture having a far older style than what I was used to.

“It’s very nice,” I said, observing the room.

“Our rooms are up these stairs,” Joan said, gesturing.  “Do not attempt to go up the stairs to the boys’ dormitories.  They are charmed.”

I nodded.  “It was the same way at…” I paused, “my other school.”

Margaret turned to face me.  “Where were you before you transferred?”

“Uhh…it was very similar to this, but it was a small school,” I bluffed.  “You probably wouldn’t have even heard of it.”

They nodded, satisfied.

I let out a small breath of relief as they began to move around the room, introducing me to my other housemates.  I greeted them all, smiling.

“Follow us,” Joan said, walking towards the stairs.  “We will see if we can find your room.”

“Did Headmaster Dippet say which dormitory was yours,” Margaret asked.

I froze, eyes wide.  “No…no, he didn’t.”

“Oh dear.  This may be a problem.”

“I can go ask him,” I said, realizing that I had yet to officially announce my…transference, anyway.

“We will go with you.”

“No!”  I shot my hand out before quickly retracting it and lowering my voice.  “No, it’s okay.  It’s getting late, and I don’t want you out past curfew.”

“But do you know the way,” Margaret questioned.

Assuming Dippet’s office was in the same location Dumbledore’s was, I nodded.  “I’m sure I’ll find it.”  I began backing up towards the door.  “If I’m not back before you girls go to bed, have a goodnight!”

“You as well,” they said, waving.

I turned, exiting the Common Room.

Alright.  Time to find Dippet’s office.

I began walking through the castle, making mental notes of the differences and similarities between this Hogwarts and mine.  As the duration of my walk lengthened, I began to wonder why I was even doing this.

I didn’t need to sign in to Hogwarts.  I didn’t need to take notes in class.  And I certainly didn’t need to start forming attachments to young men.

I didn’t have time to be distracted, no matter how gorgeous that distraction happened to be.

I had one job to do.

I had to find Tom Riddle.

I had to kill him.

“Miss King.”

I jumped at the sound of the voice, whipping around.  I couldn’t make out who was approaching me, since the castle was getting dark as evening came upon it.  Pulling out my wand, I held it out in front of me.  “Lumos.”

A light shone at the end of my wand, illuminating the boy that stopped in front of me.

My eyes widened.  “Merlin,” I breathed out.

It would be him.

The Head Boy raised an eyebrow, cocking his head.  “Curfew has begun, Miss King.  I do not wish to take points away from you on your first day, but-”

“I’m sorry,” I interrupted.

He closed his mouth, looking over at me.

I could see a flicker of surprise, and possibly annoyance, in his eyes at being cut off.  “I was just on my way to see Headmaster Dippet,” I explained.

The Head Boy’s expression shifted, becoming more curious.  “Oh?”

“I realized he never told me which dorm was mine,” I said.

The boy didn’t need to know that I hadn’t actually been accepted into Hogwarts yet.

That would have been very suspicious.

“I see.”

A beat of silence passed between us.

“Then let me escort you.  If any other Prefects find you alone, you likely will lose points.”

I nodded.  “Thank you.”

The Head Boy pulled out his wand and flicked his wrist slightly, a light appearing on the end of it.

My eyes widened.  I hadn’t heard him cast ‘lumos’.

The boy gestured and began walking.

I fell into place beside him, increasing the speed of my steps to keep up with his longer strides.

We walked in silence for a few minutes before the boy broke it.

“Why have you transferred to Hogwarts so late in your wizarding career,” he questioned.

“I have a job to do,” I replied without thinking.  My eyes widened as soon as the words were out of my mouth.

He turned to look down at me, regarding me curiously.  “What is the nature of your job?”

I floundered for a realistic response.  “My parents just thought that the school I was previously at wasn’t preparing me well enough for a career.”

“A career?”  The boy was silent for a moment.  “Most witches your age hope for marriage out of school.  There are few who wish to work.”

“Well…” I pursed my lips.  “I guess I’m one of the few.”

The boy hummed.  “We’re here,” he said.  He turned to look at the gargoyle.  “Strawberries.”

The gargoyle spun, revealing the staircase.

I looked over at the Slytherin.  “Thank you.”

“I’ll wait until you’re done.”

“That’s really not necessary-”

He smirked.  “So you keep saying.  But as I said, if you want to avoid losing points, I will need to accompany you.”

I looked at him for a few moments before nodding, heading up the stairs.  Once at the top I looked around, noting that the office was very similar to Dumbledore’s.  “Headmaster Dippet,” I called out.

A man with long white hair and a short white beard and mustache emerged from behind a pile of books.  His eyebrows furrowed.  “Yes?”

“My name is King, sir,” I said.  “I was transferred to Hogwarts today.”

The Headmaster sat down at his desk.  “It is very late in the day to be transferring, Miss King.”

I swallowed nervously.  “It was a late decision, sir.”

He raised an eyebrow.  “Very well.”  Pulling out a quill and parchment, he asked “what are your parents’ names, dear?”

I froze, trying to remember the names of my great grandparents.  “Edward and Dorothy King, sir.”

He nodded, writing the names down.  “What school did you transfer from?”

I listed the first school that came to mind.  “Beauxbatons, sir.”

He nodded again, writing some more.  “That’s a good school.  Why did you transfer?”

I fisted my robe sleeves as my leg began to bounce.  “My parents thought I would be more suited here.”

He looked up at me, saying nothing.

I pursed my lips.  “Professor?”

Reaching into his desk, he pulled out more papers.  “I see you have already been sorted into Gryffindor…”

“Professor Dumbledore, sir,” I said.  “He saw me earlier…”

The headmaster hummed.  “He made no mention of it to me.”

“Probably just an oversight, sir,” I said quickly, beginning to sweat.

Merlin, who knew trying not to be caught in time travel would be so difficult?

“Probably.  Very well, Miss King.”  He reached over his desk, handing me a piece of paper.  “This is your dormitory room.”  He stepped around the desk, leading me back down the stairs.  “I will show you to the Common Room-”

“There’s no need for that, Headmaster.”

We both turned to the voice, seeing the Head Boy standing right where I had left him: in the middle of the hallway.

“I already volunteered to take Miss King back.”

“Ah, Mister Riddle,” Dippet said, clearly pleased.  “Excellent.”

My eyes widened and I nearly choked on my own saliva.  All the blood drained from my face and my heart began to beat erratically in my chest.

Dippet placed his hand on my back and shoved me gently towards the tall boy.

I simply stared up at him, at a complete loss for words.

There was no way-

“Hurry along, Mister Riddle,” Dippet encouraged.  “I’m sure Miss King would like to go to bed at a reasonable hour,” he said, smiling before turning back towards his office.

“Goodnight, Headmaster,” the boy- Riddle- said.

“Goodnight, children.”

Once the gargoyle closed, the boy looked down to meet my gaze.

I didn’t think I had moved in the last two minutes.

Let alone breathed.

“Are you ready, Miss King?”

I finally blinked.  “Riddle?”

He stared at me, his eyebrows furrowing slightly.  “Yes.”

I opened my mouth again, my voice wavering.  “Tom Riddle?”

His eyebrows furrowed further.  “Yes.”  He looked at me curiously.  “Why?”

“I…” I trailed off.

What was there to say?

The silence stretched on and he narrowed his eyes at me.

I blinked at him.

His eyes widened and he leaned back slightly, standing up taller than he had been before.  “You’re the hero, huh?  I guess that makes me the villain.”  He lowered his head, stepping further into my space.

I took an instinctive step backwards.  “You should already know you’re the villain,” I muttered, amazed that I was able to speak, let alone say something so bold in my current state.

“You’ve come to kill me,” he whispered.  “Tell me…where…exactly…are you from?”

I took another step back.

“If you don’t tell me, I can still get the information,” he insisted darkly.

“Stay out of my head,” I warned, with more strength than I felt.

“Everything alright here?”

Tom and I turned towards the voice, seeing two Prefects standing in the hallway.

Tom turned his body mostly towards them, moving away from my space and returning to his full height.  “I was escorting Miss King back to her Common Room.  She just got her dormitory direction from Headmaster Dippet,” he explained casually.

My eyes widened in horror at the speed in which he effortlessly swapped personalities.

“Very well,” one of the Prefects said.

“Enjoy your trip,” the other said with a wave as they walked away to continue their routes.

When they were out of sight I broke into a full sprint down the hallway.

I had no plan.  My body was moving purely on instinct.

Where could I go that would be safe?

I didn’t have time to think.

He could easily catch up.

Running through the halls, I turned a corner and was promptly whipped backwards.  I fell into a chest, trying to rip my arm free of the hand that held it.

Tom’s long fingers and firm hold were making it difficult to break his grip.

“Let go of me!”

Tom lowered his head.  “Be quiet.”

“No!”  I went to reach for my wand, but Tom’s other hand shot forward, fingers wrapping around my wrist and keeping both of my arms in his hold.  I struggled against him, but it was no use.

“Why are you here to kill me,” Tom demanded.

I continued pulling against him.

“Answer me, witch!”  His eyes flashed red, his face contorting into one of anger.

I froze, chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath.  My wrists hurt and my body was tired from fighting against his hold.  “Because you’re a monster,” I spat.  “Because in my time you’ve killed countless people,” I panted, glaring up at him.  “Because I have to stop you.”

Tom said nothing for several moments, studying me closely.

I defiantly met his eyes, knowing he could use Legilimency if he wished.  He already knew half of it, anyway.

“Am I the most powerful wizard in your time?”

I glared.  “No.”

“Who is,” he demanded, his hold on my wrists tightening.

I lifted my chin, looking at him proudly.  “Dumbledore.”

Rage flashed across Tom’s face.  “Impossible.”

“It isn’t.”  I stared at him, unwavering, even though I felt like my heart was being squeezed.  “You’re going to lose…Voldemort.”

He stared at me, his chest rising and falling harder and faster than it had been.

Then he smirked, an aura of confidence washing over him.

“If I am truly going to lose, why did you come back in time to stop me?”

“To try to reduce the number of deaths,” I half-bluffed.  “Just because you get defeated in my time doesn’t mean we should let you get away with all those murders.”  I glared at him.  “I know I’m too late to prevent the deaths of Myrtle, some of the other students around here, and even others, but what I can try to stop, I will.”

“So you’ve come to kill me.”  Tom raised an eyebrow.  “Did you really think you would be able to?”

“That wasn’t my mission.”  My eyes narrowed at him.  “It was just the one I chose.”  Reeling my leg back, I swung it forward, kicking him in the shin.

He doubled over.

I kneed him in the nose.

He let out a yell as blood began to run down to his chin, his hands loosening enough in surprise that I managed to wiggle one of mine free.

Grabbing my wand as fast as possible, I aimed it at him.  “Stupefy!”

He shot backwards, back colliding with the castle wall before he hit the ground.

Walking over and rolling him onto his back, I held my wand as his throat.  I looked at him, his unconscious body laying on the floor.

Kill him.  Do it.

My grip on my wand tightened.  Foolishly, my eyes raked across his softened features.

Even as blood trickled from his nose, I couldn’t help but think the annoying thought that he was breathtaking.

The two sides of my brain fought each other.

Now’s your chance!  It would be such a pity to destroy something so beautiful.  Avenge all he’s done!

I ground my teeth together, hand shaking as I pointed my wand at him.

Save the world!  Save your friends!

Don’t destroy him!  Do what you were told to do!

End it!

Do the right thing!

Ending him is the right thing!  Stop him from causing harm to others!

Murder is never right!  Change him to become a better person!

You can’t change him!  He’s too far gone!

You don’t know that!

I let out a yell, jerking my arm towards the wall alongside Riddle.

A flash of light emerged from my wand and struck the stone.

Parts of it crumbled, falling alongside the unconscious boy.

I stared down at him for a few moments, heaving breaths.

I had to go.

He could wake up at any moment.

Giving him one final glance I ran towards the Common Room and didn’t look back.

Announcing the password I rushed in, sprinting up to my dorm.  Opening the door as quietly as I could, I sped in, hurrying onto my bed.  I sat on it, hugging my knees to my chest as I stared at the door.

I couldn’t afford to sleep.

He might come for me.

~~~~~~~~

I shakily made my way to breakfast the next morning, creeping around every corner to make sure Tom wasn’t there.  I sat down at the Gryffindor table, only a few students in the Great Hall this early.  Having had no sleep, I decided I would at least get something to eat and try to work through my thoughts.

Now that I hadn’t killed Riddle, what was my next plan?

Should I try again to kill him?  He would definitely be watching me, now.  He knew that I knew.

Should I try to convert him?  Easier said than done.  He’s already committed crimes, and I already attacked him.

Merlin, what did I get myself into?  Why didn’t I just kill him when I had the chance?

No, I scolded myself.  You did the right thing.

Even if it was for selfish, and admittedly, stupid reasons.

Alright.  Tom Riddle was alive.  I allowed Voldemort to live.

I could only hope I wouldn’t come to regret it.

In my time, the situation couldn’t get much worse anyway, so what the heck?  Might as well see where this takes me.

I pushed the eggs on my plate around with my fork, being hungry and yet not possessing an appetite.

“Miss King.”

My head shot up, gaze locking onto a pair of green eyes.

“Riddle,” I greeted coldly, my throat tight.  “How’s your nose?”

He glared as he sat down across from me.  Ignoring my question, a smirk formed on his face as his gaze scanned me.  “Did you sleep in your uniform, King?”

I frowned, mentally cursing myself for forgetting to cast a glamor charm.  My clothes were quite wrinkled.  “I didn’t sleep, actually.”

“Is that so?”  A crooked grin formed on his face.  “And why is that?”

I lifted my gaze to meet his eyes.  “You’ve killed for less.”  I left it at that, knowing he understood the subtext.

He hummed.

I raised an eyebrow.  “Why are you here?”

“For information.”

I let go of my fork, letting it clatter slightly as it connected with my plate, and crossed my arms.  “About what?”

“My future.”  He inclined his head towards me slightly.  “You.”

“There’s not much to tell.”

“Oh, I think there is.”  He leaned forward, lowering his voice.  “If you came to kill me, why did you not do so last night?  I was unconscious…” he trailed off, sitting more upright.  “You had the opportunity.”

I regarded him silently.

What was the best way to respond?

I was never very good at figuring out what to say in delicate matters like this.

It was made even worse by the fact that what I said could drastically impact the lives of countless people, myself included.

“I couldn’t,” I finally said.

Tom raised an inquisitive eyebrow and sat up even straighter.

He clearly had not been expecting that.

“And why not?”

I looked towards the doors of the Great Hall to avoid him using Legilimency on me again.

I did not want him using anything to his advantage.

“I somehow managed to convince myself that you were capable of saving.”  I allowed myself to look back at him.  “That you were worth saving.”

He stared at me silently, keeping his expression very guarded.

“You’re a very bright wizard, Tom,” I said.  “Powerful, too.  In the right place, you could do great things.”

“I will do great things,” he insisted.

“You will do impressive things,” I corrected.  “But they will be evil.”  I sat up straighter.  “For your own selfish end.”

His eyes briefly flashed red and I saw his face twitch as he tried to control his expression.  “It’s natural for me to look out for my own interest,” he said, voice slightly tense.

“At the cost of everyone else?”  I rolled my eyes.  “How typically Slytherin.”

His eyes narrowed.  “And I suppose it’s very Gryffindor to run headfirst into something without actually planning it out.”  He scoffed.  “Is it also a Gryffindor trait to retreat out of their task so foolishly when their opponent was helpless before them?”

I felt my anger boiling up.  “I spared your life!”  I whisper-yelled, conscious enough of the few other students in the room.  “The noble thing to do.”

“Because you are so focused on being noble, aren’t you?”

“I don’t send giant snakes to do my killing for me, you miserable boy,” I hissed.

“They weren’t worth my time.”

I slammed my hands on the table, pushing myself to my feet in a hurry as I glared daggers down at him.  “I should have done the job!”

Riddle stood as well, towering over me as he snarled back.  “If you had any brains, you would have!”

The room fell completely silent.

My chest took in air at an irregular rate, and I noticed Riddle’s breathing was also unusual.

We refused to look away from each other.

“Your ‘perfect boy’ image is slipping, Riddle,” I whispered, raising my eyebrow challengingly.  “Tread lightly.”

“I was about to give you the same warning.”  His eyes narrowed and he leaned closer.  “You do not want to make an enemy of me, King.”

I met his eyes, a determination and fury flowing through me.  “You were my enemy before I got here.”

Tom’s jaw clenched.  

The doors to the Great Hall opened, students beginning to flood in.

Riddle cast me one last glance before turning and making his way over to the Slytherin table.

I let out a relieved breath, plopping back down on the bench.  I watched Tom as he sat down, being joined by his housemates.

They all talked animatedly around him, but Tom seemed…distracted.

“Hello, King.”

I turned, seeing Margaret and Joan.  “Good morning.”  The words sounded tense, bordering on rude, to my own ears.

Margaret followed my previous line of sight.  “Looking at the Head Boy again?”  A teasing smile formed on her face.

I crossed my arms, scowling.  “I resent that.”

“Hopefully she’s studying the enemy.”  Joan turned to me.  “You had better be coming up with ways to win the House Cup this year,” she remarked.  “Slytherin’s won the past several years because of that boy,” she said, nodding towards Tom.  “Everyone loves him.”

I looked back over towards the dark haired boy.  “How... lovely,” I sneered.

The girls shared a look.

“Did you manage to find your dormitory alright,” Margaret asked.  “We never saw you.”

The blood began draining from my face as the memories from last night came back.  “Yeah.  It’s not with you two, though.  By the time I got back from Headmaster Dippet’s office, everyone was already in bed, and I got up early.”

At the sound of a few claps I turned my head to the right to see the Headmaster trying to get everyone’s attention.

I thanked Merlin for the distraction.

“Good morning, students,” he greeted.  “Normally I don’t want to interrupt your breakfast, but I believe some point adjustments need to be made.”

My eyebrows furrowed.

“Last night one of the Prefects found Tom Riddle with some injuries,” he began.

All of the color drained from my face and my blood ran cold.

“Our Head Boy was walking back our newest student,” he gestured at me, announcing my name.

I felt faint as all eyes turned to me.

“Riddle has brought it to my attention that when he was walking Miss King back to her Common Room, a troll attacked them, injuring Tom and breaking the wall.”

I was certain the astonishment on my face was evident.  Eyes wide and eyebrows to my hairline, I stared at the Headmaster in bewilderment.

“The Head Boy is certain that Miss King chased the troll out of the school while he was indisposed, saving everyone.”  Dippet smiled.  “For her bravery on her first evening at Hogwarts, saving the Head Boy and the rest of the school, I award Miss King with fifty points.”  He began clapping, everyone else following his lead.

I whipped my head around to look at Riddle, the only one besides myself not clapping, meeting his eyes in confusion.

“I needed to give them some reason for my state you so rudely put me in,” a voice in my head said.

The voice was proper, smooth, yet stern, and so clearly Riddle’s.

I ignored the clapping, keeping my focus on the Slytherin.  Why didn’t you tell them the truth?

“If I had told them the truth, I would have had to tell them why you attacked me, wouldn’t I?  I could have lied, saying you simply lost your temper or felt that I threatened you, but questions about me would arise, wondering what I would have done to warrant such a response from you.”  Tom sat up straighter in his seat, arching an eyebrow as he kept his eyes locked onto mine.  “You pose no threat to me.  You can’t tell anyone what you know without sounding like a deranged lunatic, especially after being here for only a day.”

I struggled to think of an appropriate response.

A hand on my back and a voice right by my ear had my head turning to my left, seeing Joan and Margaret smiling at me.

The connection between Riddle was broken, a sharp twinge in my head causing me to wince slightly.

“Why did you not tell us?”  Margaret asked excitedly.

“I…” I trailed off.  Looking down at my plate I hesitantly lifted a forkful of eggs into my mouth to buy me some time while I thought.  I forced down a gag at the unwanted food.  “I didn’t think it was important information,” I offered weakly with a shrug.

“It’s most definitely important,” Margaret insisted.  “You saved the Head Boy.”

I grimaced at the thought, looking back down at my plate.

“The entire school,” Joan corrected, eyeing her friend.

Margaret looked over to the dark haired girl.  “Well, obviously, but the Head Boy was more immediate.”

I lifted my gaze, keeping my head down, to look at the Slytherin table.

Tom was staring in silence at his own plate.  Unlike my shuffling of the food on mine, he simply looked down at his, his arms crossed and resting on the table.

What was he thinking about?

Was he thinking of killing me?  Would he decide to kill Dumbledore, since I told him that he was the most powerful wizard in my time?  Was he plotting a murder of someone else?  Was he actually thinking of changing?

I put my elbow on the table, holding my forehead in my hand.

Merlin, this was too much.

“Are you well, King?”

I turned to the girls.  “Just a headache,” I excused.

Technically, one was beginning to form at the number of questions and stress of it all.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Margaret said.

“Hopefully it goes away soon,” Joan remarked.  “Potions will be starting in only a little while.”

I groaned.  Here I was, supposed to save the Wizarding World, needing to attend class.

As if I needed more problems in my life right now.

Rubbing my forehead, I sat back up and ate a little more.

Did I want it?  No.

Was I going to regret not eating?  Yes.

Managing to get through half of my breakfast, I stood with everyone, making our way to Potions.  As I took my seat, accepting Joan’s book, I made a mental note to buy some textbooks since, apparently, I would be here for a while.  Flipping to the page we left on last time, I went to pull out some paper to take notes on, but paused.

I mentally added parchment to my shopping list.

The noise in the room got louder as more students filed in, taking their seats.

At the sense of someone sitting beside me, I turned, eyes widening at the figure there.

Oh, yeah.

I had been so concerned about avoiding Tom Riddle’s possibly murderous intentions I had forgotten that he sat next to me in Potions.

Though, I did recall that he didn’t have to.

“Miss King,” he greeted, passing me more parchment as he kept his eyes toward the front of the class.  His gaze remained there, even as he asked “do you still have the quill I gave you?”  He finally turned to look at me.

I nodded.

He turned his attention to Professor Slughorn as the man began writing on the board.

My eyebrows furrowed.  I leaned towards him slightly.  “What are you doing?”

He glanced at me.  “Preparing for class.”

I rolled my eyes.  “I meant sitting here.”

He smirked.  “Only to keep up pretenses, Miss King,” he insisted quietly.  “It casts a good image for the Head Boy to assist the newest student.”

I scoffed, sitting upright again and turning back to my own book.  My eyes roamed the page, pretending to be interested in the words.  “Everything’s all about pretenses with you,” I mumbled.

I didn’t bother looking at his reaction.

~~~~~~~~~

I made my way into Hogsmeade, treading the streets slowly.

Merlin, I really had no idea where I was.

The shops all looked so different from my time.

My heart tugged slightly and I frowned.

My time.

How long was I going to be in this cursed place?

However long it takes to do something about Voldemort, I reasoned with myself.

Letting out a huff, I kept walking, peeking my head into shops to see what they were.

“Looking for something, hero?”

I turned at the sound of the voice, seeing a blond standing on the sidewalk.

Tom Riddle stood slightly in front of him, towering above the boy.

The blond smirked at me.

My eyebrows furrowed, my questioning gaze unintentionally shifting towards Riddle.

Tom nodded his head towards the boy.  “This is Avery.  He’s one of my friends.”

I gave him a disbelieving look, cocking an eyebrow.

Tom lifted his head slightly, tilting his chin up a little in defiance.

I turned to look at Avery.  “I’m not a hero.”  I crossed my arms.  “Whatever Riddle said, it’s not true.”

Avery raised an eyebrow at the accusation.

Tom’s expression remained stoic, but I could see his features harden slightly.

I sighed.  “Look, could you just tell me where to purchase some parchment and textbooks?”

“You don’t know,” Avery asked incredulously.

“I’m not exactly from around here.”  My eyes drifted to Tom before turning back to the blond.

Avery chuckled darkly.  “You could just look around and find out for yourself.  Get more acquainted, you know.”

“That’s what I was doing before you interrupted,” I retorted.

Tom nodded his head towards a store, clasping his hands behind his back.  “I believe you’ll find your desired things in there, Miss King.”

“My desired things, huh?”  I scoffed, beginning to walk towards the building.  “I doubt it.”

~~~~~~~~~

I sat in the library, scratching my head as I stared down at my Transfiguration textbook.  I wasn’t focusing on the words, though.

I was trying to figure out how to get through to Riddle.

I didn’t want to seek him out, but I had to do something.  I couldn’t just wait around for things to happen on their own.

But how does one get through to a psychopathic murderer?

“You’ve been staring at that same page for ages.”

It took a few moments for me to realize that I was the one being spoken to.  Looking up, I locked eyes with my guest.  My stomach caught in my throat.  “I don’t see how that’s any of your business, Riddle,” I muttered, looking back down at my book.

He sat down across from me.  “I understand; Professor Dumbledore is such a dull teacher.”

I lifted my head to look at him, a glare crossing my features.  “Professor Dumbledore is an excellent teacher.  He’s an excellent mentor and an excellent man.”

Tom sneered.  “I would have sooner compared him to a vulture.  He’s always watching me.”

“Gee,” I deadpanned at him, “I wonder why that is.”

His eyebrow twitched upwards; in challenge or annoyance, I couldn’t tell.  “There’s no evidence of anything I’ve done.”

“Maybe you just seem evil to him.”  I crossed my arms.  “He’s a good judge of character.”

Tom smirked at me.  “Unlike yourself.”

I looked at him in silence for a few moments.  “I can judge someone’s character.”

“Perhaps, but you must not be very good at it.”  He pulled out a book, flipping to a random page to feign studying.  “You left the Dark Lord alive, remember?”

A pang of guilt and rage rushed through me.  “I told you why.”

“But I don’t believe it.”  He lifted his head to look at me.  “Gryffindors are noble, but they’re also headstrong.  If they make up their mind to do something, it takes a lot to get them to change their mind.  And what could be more noble than avenging the deaths of so many?”  He leaned forward.  “So.  What made you change your mind?”

“You’re so smart.”  I leaned forward in my own seat, narrowing my eyes at him.  “Figure it out.”

Tom stared at me for a few moments before letting out an incredulous chuckle and sitting upright.  “Surely you wouldn’t let something as mundane as physical attraction sway you.”

My face broke into a harsh heat and I leaned back in my seat.  Having no response, I simply scoffed and averted my attention to another student searching the shelves for a book.

Tom continued to stare at me in silence.

I could feel my face getting warmer at the attention.

The awkward prolonged quiet wasn’t helping, either.

I took a deep breath, trying to fight off the sweat that had formed a thin layer over my skin.  I practically willed my cheeks to lose some of their red color.

Merlin, they rivaled a Weasley’s hair.

Turning my glare towards the Slytherin sitting across from me, I crossed my arms.  “You didn’t kill me, either.”  I nodded my chin towards him.  “I know your secret.  I’m a threat to your cause.  I could expose you for what you really are.”

“You can’t expose me, remember?  No one would believe you.”

“Dumbledore would.”

His confident smirk was replaced by a frown, his eyebrows pulling together.  His form tensed, sitting more rigid than before.  He looked to the side.  “Dumbledore is a fool.”  He met my eyes again.  “He can’t do anything to me.”

“So you keep saying.  But I’m not convinced.”

Tom’s eyes narrowed at me.  “Are you trying to get me to kill you?”

“No.”  I shrugged one shoulder.  “Just trying to figure you out.  You said you were keeping me alive for information.”

“A true statement.”

I leaned forward.  “Then use Legilimency.  Read my mind and find out all you want to know.  Then you would have no reason to keep me alive,” I challenged.

Tom’s eyes shifted between my own.  “It’s too easy.”

I rolled my eyes, sitting upright again.  “Sorry, I didn’t know that taking over the world was a sport to you.”

He regarded me silently.

When the silence stretched on, I looked back down at my textbook.  “What are you doing here, anyway?  Are you following me or something?”

“Don’t be absurd.”

I glanced up at him before returning my attention to the page in front of me.  After rereading the same sentence eight times I huffed, closing the book and staring in annoyance at the cover.

Transfiguration: Third edition.

I chewed on my lip before stuffing the book in my bag and standing, marching out of the library.

~~~~~~~~~

I steeled myself, knocking on the door.

“Come in,” a voice from inside called.

Pushing open the wooden door, I stepped into the office.  “Professor Dumbledore?”

“Ah, Miss King.”  A small smile appeared on the man’s face.

Merlin, I almost cried at the sight of it.

“Please,” he gestured, “have a seat.”

“Thank you, Professor.”  I sat down in the chair facing his desk.

“What can I do for you?”

“Professor, I was wondering…”  My leg began to bounce.  “I was wondering what you could tell me about… about Tom Riddle.”

Dumbledore’s eyebrows rose.  “What would you like to know about Tom?”

“Anything useful.”

Dumbledore cocked an eyebrow at me.

My leg bouncing increased speed.  Surely, I could tell Dumbledore what was going on?  In my time he was dead anyway, so it wouldn’t have an impact later?

It was flimsy logic, but it was all I had.

I huffed.  “Professor, I’m from the future.  I was sent back from the year 1998.”  Reaching into my robe, I pulled out the time turner to show him.

His expression remained mostly impassive as he simply looked at the object before lifting his gaze to me.  “All but two time turners in the world only take the wearer back at a maximum of five hours.”

“This one was altered by the person who sent me back,” I explained, trying to be as vague as possible.

He didn’t need to know everything.

I fisted my altered uniform roughly, twisting the fabric in my hands.  “Professor, I was sent here to change the past.  To save everyone that Riddle kills.  But I’m not a hero.”  I let out a humorless chuckle.  “I’m starting to wonder if I’m even a Gryffindor.”

“Why would you not belong in Gryffindor?”

I lifted my eyes to meet his.  “I had the opportunity to kill Tom Riddle, before his acts got too carried away…but I didn’t.  I cowered out of it.”

Dumbledore hummed.  “Oftentimes, killing is the easy solution.  Especially if Tom becomes as bad as you say.  It is simple to end someone that would cause so much harm.”  He looked at me meaningfully, with a warm smile and a kind look in his eyes.  “Sometimes it takes more bravery to spare a life.”

I bit back tears and nodded.  I cleared my throat.  “What should I do, Professor?  How do I change a killer?”  I moved in my seat, sitting on the edge of the chair.  “How can I get through to him?”

“I do not know everything about Mister Riddle,” Dumbledore informed.  “He grew up in an orphanage.  His mother died when he was very young.  His father abandoned him.”  Dumbledore clasped his hands, resting them on the desk.  “There must be a reason that you specifically were sent here, Miss King.  Use your judgment.  Find your own way.”

I sighed, looking down and nodded.  “Thank you, Professor.”  I stood and exited the office.

My own way, huh?

~~~~~~~~~

What the frick was my way?

I briefly considered the option of holding my wand to his throat, demanding he fix his mistakes or I’d kill him, but I quickly reasoned that wouldn’t work.

No matter how much I wished it did.

I had been in 1945 for a few weeks, but it felt like I had been here for a number of months.

And I was making no progress.

My grades weren’t even very good, since I had other things on my mind.  I had never been a good multitasker.

Merlin, I was seriously doubting Professor McGonagall’s choice in sending me back.

I had no idea what I was doing.

Alright, then.  I’d wing it.

I stood from the chair in the Common Room, making my way to the door.

“Curfew starts soon, King,” Joan warned, looking up from her book.

“I know.”  Without looking back, I pushed the portrait open and closed it behind me, making my way to the dungeon.

I never liked the dark, and this part of the castle seemed to soak it all up.  Thankfully, I could still see.  Reaching the door to the Slytherin Common Room I paused.

I didn’t know the password.

And with curfew starting soon, Riddle might not have even been in the Common Room.

I chewed my lip.

Thankfully, the door swung open on its own.

I froze as a figure walked out, not sure if I should be relieved or not.  “Avery,” I greeted.

The blond looked up at me, his steps halting.  “Hero?”  He raised a judgmental eyebrow.  “What are you doing at the Slytherin Common Room?”

“Looking for Riddle.”

Avery watched me for a few moments.  “He’s inside.  He’ll be starting to patrol soon.”

“Can you get him?  I need to talk to him.”

Avery thought for a few moments before retreating into his Common Room.  He emerged shortly after, Riddle in tow.

Avery walked down the hallway, doing whatever it was he was going to do before he saw me.

Tom closed the door behind him, looking down at me in a manner similar to Avery’s.

It was different, though.

Tom was studying me.  Trying to figure me out.

He raised a silent, questioning eyebrow at me.

I suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable in my own skin.

I cleared my throat.  “Can we talk?”

His other eyebrow rose in surprise.  “I’m going to begin my rounds soon-”

“I know; Avery told me.”  I looked up at him.  “But I need to either sort this out or go home.”

Tom’s expression shifted ever so slightly.  “You would go home?  Even if your goal was unaccomplished?”

I shrugged one shoulder.  “If I can’t do what I was sent to do, there’s no point in hanging around a time that isn’t mine, is there?”

Tom regarded me silently for a few moments.  “No.  No, I suppose not.”

I gestured at him.  “Especially with you graduating soon, I’m going to lose a lot of contact with you.”  I cracked a small smile.  “Unless I apply for a job at the same place.”  I tilted my head, my smile growing.  “But I kind of doubt I’d get it, since I would only have about two months of proof of my existence, so…”

The corners of Tom’s mouth raised slightly.  He nodded, looking down the hallway.  His gaze drifted back to meet my eyes.  “Walk with me.”

I fell into step beside him, needing to jog a little initially to catch up to his long paces.  Once I settled into a rhythm that would keep me next to him, I relaxed, turning to look up at his side profile.  “Do you like being the Head Boy?”

He turned his head to look at me, a confused expression overtaking his features.  “What?”

“You heard me.”

He raised an eyebrow, looking forward again as he turned corners without much thought.

I figured he must have memorized his paths at this point.

“It gives me power, but also responsibility.”

“So, yes and no?”

He looked down at me.  “Did you come to talk to me about something as dull as this?”

I shrugged, turning my attention forward as we rounded another corner.  “I just wanted to talk to you about anything.”

He kept his expression guarded.  “Trying to discover my weaknesses?”

I frowned as I thought for a moment.  “Not really.”  I looked up at him.  “I don’t think your feelings on your Head Boy duties are particularly useful insights into the darkest parts of your mind,” I admitted.

His eyes flickered down to me very briefly before looking ahead again.  “Was there anything else?”

I pursed my lips.  “I didn’t really have anything in mind.”  I looked back towards him.  “Just…tell me about yourself.”

A skeptical look overtook Tom’s features as he continued to stare ahead, resolutely not looking at me.  “You’re trying to get me to reveal something.”

I could see it behind his eyes, though.

Vulnerability.

“Tom…” I sighed, looking up at him.

He finally looked down at me.

I frowned.  “You’re far too cynical.  Is it so hard to believe I just want to get to know you?”

Tom raised an eyebrow.  “You did try to kill me.”

“And I haven’t for almost a month now,” I reminded.

Tom’s eyes shifted to the floor for a few beats before he looked forward again.  “I still don’t trust you.”

“Nor I, you.”

~~~~~~~~~

I tugged at my hair, looking down at my Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook.

“Is something wrong, King?”

I looked up, seeing Tom sit across from me.  “My grades are slipping because I’ve been a little…preoccupied.”  Pursing my lips, I let out a small huff.  “And Defense Against the Dark Arts was never one of my strong suits,” I remarked, gaze returning to my book.

“Well, fortunately it’s my best subject.”  Tom stood, moving around the table to sit next to me.

I felt heat creep up my neck at the proximity.

He placed his hands on the table, his robe sleeve brushing mine, looking over at the pages I had flipped open.  “What have you been struggling with?”

Merlin, how was anyone supposed to think with Tom that close, let alone focus.

“Uhhh.”

Tom looked down at me, his green eyes peering into mine.

My breathing picked up, chest rising and falling at a faster rate.  I studied his face for a few moments, gaze dropping briefly to his lips before quickly averting my eyes to stare down at the textbook.

King, what do you think you’re doing!?  Pull yourself together!

I forcibly cleared my throat.  “Uhhh,” I repeated, my voice even weaker than it had been.  I let out a strained chuckle, holding my head in my hand.  “Merlin, Tom.”

“Are you alright, King?”

I looked over at him, only to turn even redder at seeing the smirk on his face.

“Should I take you to the healer?”  His eyebrows quirked upward almost mockingly.  His features shifted, feigning concern.  “I don’t believe that shade of red is normal.  Or healthy.”

I glared, the expression holding no actual anger, and swatted him in the arm, looking back to my book.  “I hate you.”

He let out a breathy chuckle before pulling the textbook closer to him so he could see it better.  Gesturing at it, he looked back at me.  “What’s confusing you?”

An affectionate smile graced my features.

I didn’t even have the thought to gasp in horror at the action.

~~~~~~~~

“No, that’s purely a defensive spell.”

I furrowed my eyebrows, scratching down a note as I took a bite of toast.

Tom sat next to me, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice.

“I think some of these spells should be more versatile,” I muttered, finishing writing and sitting upright.

“Unfortunately, we cannot decide.”

I looked up at Tom.  “Bummer, really.”  I huffed out a sigh.  “I guess we just have to focus on what we can control.”

Tom’s gaze dropped slightly.

I could practically see the gears turning in his head.

“Indeed,” he said.

I blinked at him for a few moments before pointing at a sentence in my book.  “But, does-”

The sound of the doors in the Great Hall opening brought my attention to them.

I sighed as students flowed in.  Looking back to Tom, I frowned.  “I wish there was somewhere private we could meet.  We aren’t in the same house, so we can’t even both be in the same Common Room.”

Tom hummed.  “The library is only available for certain hours, as well.”

I nodded, pursing my lips.  “I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”  Closing my book, I looked back at Tom as I put the textbook back in my bag.  “Thanks for all your help.”

Tom chuckled briefly.  “It’s a wonder you made it to seventh year in your time.”  He stood from the Gryffindor table, looking down at me.  “I can only assume that magic has gotten even more complex in future decades.”

“The style of writing is different.”  I sent him a crooked grin.  “Less pompous, if you ask me.”

He scoffed.  “Less professional, you mean.”  He turned around, returning to the Slytherin table.

I smiled at his back for a few moments before returning to my breakfast.

“How are you, King?”

I looked up, seeing Margaret sit across from me.  “I’m doing well, how about you?”

She smiled.  “I’m ready for the day.  Our finals are in only a few weeks, but I feel prepared.”

Groaning, I put my head in my hand.  “Don’t remind me.  This Defense Against the Dark Arts stuff is killing me.”

“You seem to be doing better in class,” she remarked, pouring herself a cup of pumpkin juice.

I smiled softly, the image of Tom Riddle appearing in my head.  Clearing my throat, I looked up at the Gryffindor.  “It’s a miracle, Margaret.”

~~~~~~~~~

“I’m ready to go to sleep,” Joan remarked, heading back to the Common Room for the evening.

“It has been a long day,” Margaret agreed, readjusting her grip on the books she held to her chest.

“I’ll probably be up for a little bit,” I admitted, running a hand through my hair with a huff.  “I need to do more studying.”

“Miss King.”

The three of us turned to the voice.

I involuntarily smiled at the sight of the Slytherin.  Nodding in greeting, I managed to wipe most of the smile away.  “Mister Riddle.”

My housemates were looking between us suspiciously.

Tom turned to the two girls.  “May I borrow her?”

They exchanged glances before nodding at the Head Boy.

Tom smiled.  “Wonderful.”

I looked at the girls and waved.  “I’ll catch up with you later.”

They waved back before continuing to head towards the Common Room.

I turned back to Tom, raising an eyebrow and smirking slightly.  “Borrow me?”

He smirked back.  “It worked, didn’t it?”

I shook my head, chuckling.  “What did you need?”

“I wanted to show you something.”  He gestured for me to follow him, which I swiftly did.

I didn’t even realize I no longer had trouble trying to match his pace.

“I found somewhere I think we could meet,” he said just quietly enough so that no one but me could hear.  “I had read something about it and began to research.”  He turned a corner, stopping in front of a wall.  He stared up at it.  “It’s called ‘The Room of Requirement’.”

My eyes widened.

Of course!

“Brilliant, Tom.”  I turned, seeing the familiar door begin forming on the once-blank wall.

Once the door had fully appeared, I walked forward, opening the door and stepping inside.

I paused, looking around.

“Is something wrong?”

My gaze raked the room.  “It’s just different from my time.”  I chuckled, observing the couch and two chairs surrounding a small table.

A fireplace sat a few paces away, filling the room with warmth.  A red rug covered the floor, a bookshelf in the corner of the room.

I chewed on my lip.  “I suppose it’s for a different use, though.”

“What do you use the room for in your time?”

The voice was so close I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

I looked over my shoulder, seeing Tom standing behind me.  My gaze raked his features.  I forced my voice to remain steady.  “Practicing spells.”  I drew my gaze from him to look around the room again.  “It’s usually much more open than this.”

Tom hummed before moving from behind me to stand by the small table.  “I thought this would be a good place for us to study,” he remarked casually, running his hand along the back of a chair.

I watched the action before lifting my gaze to meet his eyes.

He met mine at the same time.

“It’s very cozy in here.”  I walked towards him, sitting down on the couch.  “I might do more sleeping in here than studying.”

Tom sat down next to me.  “I will not let you sleep.”  He looked over at me.  “Not with the end of the semester so close.”

I huffed.  “Right.”  Sighing, I pulled my school bag off my shoulder, dropping it on the floor next to me as I pulled out my DADA book and set it on the table, turning to the right page.  “Now… where were we?”

~~~~~~~~

“Correct.”

I sighed out in relief, leaning back against the familiar couch, running my hands along my face.

“You really are doing quite well,” Tom said from beside me.

I let out a short chuckle.  “Only thanks to you.”  I dropped my hands to my lap, looking over at the Slytherin.  “There’s only one week left until exams.”  I scooched forward on the couch so I could better reach the table, looking down at my textbook.  “With all of this new information, my brain may explode.”

“I think that is unlikely.”

I chuckled as I turned to look at Tom, only to freeze, my breath catching in my throat.

He was looking down at me, a warm glint in his eyes.  A beautiful glow was being cast on part of his face from the fire, contrasting the dim lighting of the rest of the room.

The sounds of the crackling embers filled my ears.  The smell of wood flooded my nose.

A warmth overtook me as I looked between Tom’s green eyes.

My heart twinged.

I gasped slightly, looking away.  My eyes wide, I held my head in my hands as I tried to calm my breathing.

This can’t be happening.

“King?”

I felt the couch shift as Tom leaned closer to me.

“Are you alright?”

I looked over at him, meeting his concerned eyes.  I let out a tiny quiet, albeit strained, laugh.  “I’m alright, Tom.”  My gaze dropped to his lips, lingering there for far longer than I had intended, getting caught up in mentally tracing their shape.

I briefly wondered how they’d feel.

I groaned, falling sideways on the couch, my hair splayed out on the cushion.  I hid my face in my hands.

What in Merlin’s name was wrong with me?

Sighing, I turned, lying on my back as I stared up at the ceiling.

He’s the Dark Lord, he’s the Dark Lord, he’s the Dark Lord, he-

I closed my eyes.

The Dark Lord would never help the woman sent back to kill him with her homework.

My eyes opened, seeing Tom looking down at me.

His face was contorted into one of confusion as his gaze raked my form before meeting my eyes again.  He quirked an eyebrow.

I chuckled, sitting up again.

“Is everything okay?”

I smiled at the Slytherin.  “Yeah.”  My gaze drifted between his curious eyes.  “It is.”  Slowly, I reached my right hand up.

His gaze went to it, watching for a few moments, before his eyes returned to mine.

I carefully placed my hand on the side of his face.

He took in a sharp inhale, eyebrows pulling together and eyelids fluttering.

I gently rubbed my thumb over his cheek, reaching my left hand up and placing it on his shoulder.

He stared into my eyes with so much emotion I could barely stand it.

I leaned forward slowly, watching him intently for any indication of rejection.

He swallowed hard as I got closer.

When I was just a few inches from him, I met his eyes.

They were large, looking alarmed, but I didn’t find any dislike.

I slowly closed the gap, my eyes fluttering closed unintentionally the moment our lips met.

Merlin, his lips felt so perfect against mine.

My hand on his shoulder shifted, dragging across his back to cradle the back of his head.  My fingers threaded through the hair, loving the softness.

A tug on my waist brought my attention to the weight of his hands on my hips.

I broke the kiss slowly, desperately needing air, and rested my forehead against his.  I continued to play with his hair as I panted for breath, my eyes still closed, afraid that if I opened them the moment would be gone.

For the first time in a long while I could finally hear Tom’s breathing, nearly as ragged as mine.

I felt a gentle nudge against my lips and kissed back, my right hand taking place at the back of Tom’s head to replace my left hand, which had traveled down to Tom’s left shoulder.  My arm laid completely across the back of his neck and shoulders, pulling him towards me with such force I fell backwards onto the couch, Tom following.

I opened my eyes as I pulled away, looking up at him.

He panted from above me, eyes drifting between my own.

Shifting my right hand, I brushed some of his fallen hair out of his eyes.  “I think I love you,” I whispered.

His eyes widened and he froze, his breathing seeming to stop altogether.

But perhaps it did.

As much as my head screamed at me that this was Voldemort, the Dark Lord, the killer of dozens, it didn’t feel true.

I could never feel this way about Voldemort.

Tom Riddle was a different person.  He shared the same anger issues, hurts, wishes for something better for himself, but he wasn’t so malicious.

“It’s okay,” I whispered, cradling his jaw again.  “You don’t need to say it back if you don’t want to.”

Tom’s wide eyes searched my own, as if in disbelief of what he’d heard.

I chuckled, reaching both arms around his back and pulled him down, laying him on top of me.

He tried to use his forearms to support his weight, but I forced his entire body onto me, enjoying the fullness of his presence.

Letting out a content sigh, I wrapped my arms around him, rubbing his back.  I turned my head, placing a kiss on his temple before we stilled, just listening to the sounds of our own breathing and the fire, feeling nothing but each other.

~~~~~~~~

Tom hadn’t spoken to me since yesterday.

While he normally would spend some time eating breakfast at my table before most of the students came in, he marched straight to the Slytherin table, an expression on his face that I had never seen on him before.

He didn’t look quite confused or angry, but he didn’t look happy or sad either.

The best guess I had was that he was trying to figure out what to do after our last…interaction.

To be fair, hearing those three dangerous words from someone not from your own time sent to kill you would probably send me for a loop.

I slowly ate supper, doing some thinking of my own.

I had caught him looking at me multiple times today, but that was hardly surprising, or even helpful in finding out what was going through his brain.

It was doing little to calm the anxiety that had seemed to settle in my stomach and reside there all day.

“King?”

I looked up, seeing Margaret and Joan looking at me expectantly.  “Sorry, what?”

“What are your plans after you graduate?”

I let out a small chuckle at the irony, looking back down at the food on my plate.  “I’m not sure.”  My gaze lifted to find the Head Boy.  “I guess that depends.”

Margaret caught it and she gasped, clasping her hands together.  “Are you going to marry Tom Riddle!?”

My fork slipped out of my hand, clattering against the plate as my eyes widened.  “Shhh!”  I narrowed my eyes at her.  “Merlin, Margaret, people can hear you.”

She grinned sheepishly.  “Sorry.”

After a beat of silence, Joan looked over at me.  “Well?  Are you?”

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose.  “I don’t know.”  My leg began to bounce and I brought my hand down, placing it on top of my knee in an effort to stop its movements.  “I don’t know what we are.”  I looked over at him.  “I don’t know if we can.”

Can you marry someone from the past?

“We didn’t think you and Tom were that close,” Joan admitted carefully.  “I know that you would often disappear, but we didn’t know why.”

“He’s helping me study for the upcoming exams,” I said, gaze dropping back to my plate.

“Is that all?”

I glanced over at Margaret.  “I don’t know.”  Putting my hands on the table, I stood.  “I’m going for a walk.  I’ll see you both later.”  Stepping away from the table, I marched out of the Great Hall, not once looking back.

~~~~~~~~

I simply had to ask him.

Two days had gone by without anything from the famous Slytherin.

I sat at breakfast, trying to figure out when the best time to approach him was.

He didn’t even come into the Great Hall early like he usually did, instead coming in surrounded by his followers amongst the flood of other students.

“Attention, students,” Headmaster Dippet spoke.  “Your final exams begin today and last throughout the week.  To avoid cheating, only one house at a time will take their exams so that everyone can have their own desk.”  His gaze raked across the tables.  “Your schedules are posted on the classroom doors.  Now,” he gestured, “enjoy your breakfast.  And good luck.”

I ran a hand through my hair as he sat back down.

Alright.  Approaching Tom before our exams was out of the question.

Maybe I could catch him in the hallway.

I then had the thought that talking to the most famous boy in school about our love life in the middle of a likely-busy hallway was not my best idea.

After class, perhaps?

He might have Head Boy duties, or something.  He’d probably run off to his Common Room as soon as he could, anyway.

Merlin, this was giving me a headache.

Sighing in temporary defeat, I pulled out my textbook to begin studying for my first test.

Maybe focusing on something else would clear my head.

~~~~~~~~

By Friday I was determined to track this man down, even if it meant breaking into the Slytherin Common Room.

It had been a whole week since we had spent that evening in the Common Room.

Merlin, it just was my luck that the first person I broke down walls for, confessed my feelings to and was intimate with would be from fifty years ago, and it just would be Lord Voldemort- the man that I had been sent to kill- and of course he would avoid me at any possible cost afterwards.

You couldn’t write this stuff.

As soon as I handed in my test for grading- briefly noting that there was no way I did as well as I would have liked given my mental state- I sprinted out of the classroom as quickly as I could, making a beeline for the Slytherin Common Room.

If I had to wait there for hours, I would see Tom Riddle.

He couldn’t run forever.

And so, I waited.

Because it was Friday, the last day before graduation, there was only one exam today in order to give the teachers enough time to grade everything.

Tom wouldn’t be long.

I waited outside their door for two hours, at some point sitting down because my feet were beginning to hurt from standing on the stone floor.  At the sound of voices, I looked up, rising to stand.

Tom, naturally, led the pack; taking up the front.

He looked away from one of his followers, eyes landing on their door before his gaze drifted to me.

I don’t think I had ever seen Tom Riddle look nervous before.

“King,” he addressed in a false sense of calm.

I could hear the slight waver in his voice.

Cocking an eyebrow, I resisted the urge to cross my arms.  “Riddle,” I replied in a cold tone.

He let out a harsh, silent breath, glancing away briefly before meeting my eyes again.  “What are you doing here?”

“Hunting for snakes.”  I allowed my arms to cross.  “They tend to hide when they get scared.”  I tilted my head, narrowing my eyes.  “You haven’t seen any, have you?”

Whispers broke out amongst the Slytherins behind Tom.

He looked over his shoulder, wordlessly silencing them with only an expression.  Turning back to me, he faltered for a moment.

I had clearly caught him off guard.

He was getting sloppy.

I mentally patted myself on the back.

Surely if Tom was going to end up as Voldemort he would have kept alert, right?

At his prolonged silence I raised an expectant eyebrow.

“What’s the wait for?!”  Someone from the back yelled.

I looked towards the back of the group before meeting Tom’s gaze again.

He huffed, rolling his eyes slightly.  Looking back to me, he finally found his voice.  “We were going to celebrate the end of the year…” he trailed off, hoping I would get the message.

If he thought I was going to succumb to his not-so-subtle hint to leave, he had another thing coming.

I scoffed.  “You’re not.”

“We’re not?”

“You’re not.”  I nodded my head towards the group behind the Head Boy.  “They can do what they please.”  I looked back to Tom.  “But you owe me a conversation and some time.”

He watched me for a few moments.

I refused to back down.

Tom sighed, nodding.  He gestured for the rest of his housemates to go in, quietly announcing the password.

When we were finally alone I remained silent, wanting him to crumble a little under the dread of what would come out of my mouth.

Frankly, I didn’t even know what I was going to say.

After a few moments he cleared his throat, drawing his shoulders back and holding his head high to stand to his full height.  He looked at me, raising an eyebrow, but I could see the flicker of fear behind his eyes.

I waited a few beats before asking the first question.  “Do you realize how horrible this week has been for me?”  I scoffed.  “Merlin, Tom, we graduate tomorrow- I worried I would never see you again.”

His gaze dropped to the floor.

I crossed my arms, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious.  “Look, if you regret it- if you regret me- then you should have just come out and say it.”  I looked to the wall, terrified of meeting his eyes.

Silence stretched between us, feeling so suffocating I considered leaving to get some fresh air.

But I couldn’t.  Not now.  Not when I finally had him.

“I don’t.”

It was so quiet I barely heard him.  I finally turned my head to face him, meeting his gaze.  I eyed him, trying to find any indication of a lie.  Finding none, I continued.  “Why are you avoiding me?”

“I needed some time to think.”

I tried to swallow the lump that formed in my throat, but was unsuccessful.  “And?”  I managed to croak out.

He grew silent again.

If I didn’t know any better, I would say he was toying with me intentionally.

My eyebrows pulled together as I searched his eyes.  “Tom?”

He took a deep breath.  “I want you to stay.”  He straightened his posture again.  “I want you to stay with me.”

I swore my heart stopped.

Time seemed to halt around me.

I opened my mouth, trying to respond, but I found I had no idea what to say.

Did I want to stay with him?  Could I stay in a time that wasn’t my own?  Was he completely cured of his evil endeavors?

I blinked away my thoughts, squaring my shoulders.  “And your…plans for the future?”

He went silent, though he held my gaze.  “I never had anyone love me before,” he finally settled on saying.  “I didn’t think I was capable of the feeling, myself.”  He took in a large, shaky breath, but kept his eyes on mine.  “I’m willing to give up my aspirations for you.”  His eyebrows quirked up in vulnerability.  “If you’ll have me.”

I was rendered completely and utterly speechless.  All thoughts of an appropriate response fled my brain.  I looked down, trying to think, when I caught sight of his hands at his sides.  I lifted my head to meet his gaze.  “And the Horcruxes?”

He grimaced.  “I haven’t destroyed them, yet.”  He lifted his hand to look at the ring that hugged his finger.  “I’m not looking forward to it.”

“It’s going to hurt,” I confirmed, walking towards him to look at the ring.  Reaching my hand out, I stroked the gem, making a mental note that he let me.  I lifted my gaze to meet his eyes.  “That’s what happens when you split your soul apart.”

He sighed, nodding.

I clapped my hand on his chest good-naturedly.  “Be glad I caught you when you’ve only made two.  I imagine it hurts worse with each split.”

Having nothing to say, he simply nodded again.

I chuckled, holding his large hand between both of mine.  “So…” I grinned up at him, “you’ll get a good job because you’re so smart, I’ll get the best job I can, being in a different time and everything, and we’ll go from there.”  I gently patted the top of his hand.  “How does that sound?”

He smiled.  “It’s a start.”

I chuckled, stepping completely into him and wrapping my arms around him.

His arms came around me, settling on my low back.

I let out a small laugh.  “How on earth did I do this?”

Tom pulled away slightly to look down at me.  “Do what?”

“Tame the Dark Lord.”  I chuckled.  “I still don’t know what Professor McGonagall was thinking.  I have no idea how this worked.”

Tom thought for a moment.  “By being yourself, I suppose.”

I hummed.  “Sounds flimsy.”

Tom huffed a chuckle and I grinned, looking up at him.

Reaching my right hand up, I once again cradled the side of his face.

He closed his eyes, leaning into it, before he opened them to look down at me.

We both leaned forward, meeting in the middle, and our lips connected, slotting into place.

My heart danced in my chest as I ran my hand through his hair before pulling away to look up at him.  “I love you.”

He smiled down at me.  “I love you, too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n: Holy moly, this is so long.  54 pages.

This was actually really hard to write.  Trying to make Tom Riddle redeemable is easier said than done.  I got stuck multiple times when writing this, trying to figure out how to best progress in a way that was realistic and moved the story and their relationship forward in a believable way.  He's also so nuanced that I reworked a fair number of his lines to try to sound as much like him as possible.

I went back and edited some things multiple times because I noticed that I was writing King coming at the problem from a Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff way, so I had to try to adjust it to make her more firmly Gryffindor.  She still has moments of traits from other houses, but that's normal, so.

There's a couple things in the story that I didn't outright say, but wanted to share anyway:

-Tom WAS following King (in Hogsmeade, the library, etc.) to keep an eye on her, because she DID defeat him and could have killed him if she wanted.  While he never admitted it, he did view her as a threat.

-Dippet's password being "strawberries" I made up/guessed, because Dumbledore had started a rumor that Dippet had planted strawberries on the castle grounds, likely meaning the Headmaster was fond of them.

-Doing some research, I found that Abraxas didn't actually go to school with Tom, but Avery was one of the few Death Eaters that were confirmed to.

-Tom reacting so strongly to physical affection just made sense to me.  Especially growing up in an orphanage, that boy is definitely touch-starved.

-Tom avoiding King to think also seemed fitting, since he was new to love and he had to battle between a woman and all of the plans he had been crafting for years.  I think it's realistic that he would have tried to give himself space and time to weigh his options, and even not wanting to seek her out to tell her.

-Tom didn't see an issue announcing the password to the Slytherin Common Room in front of King because it was the last school day, so she couldn't use it after they graduated, anyway.

Anywho.  That was a lot. Hope you enjoyed.  Make sure to let me know what you thought!  I'm curious if you thought I did our dear Tom Riddle justice.

take the edge off. [suna rintarou x f!reader] chapter three.

>>You struggle with your weight and body image, but Suna extensively and thoroughly undoes all the damage done by other guys.

or

You haven't gotten laid in over a year, and your best friend takes it upon himself to fix that for you.<<

series status: [complete]

previous. || masterlist. || next.

a/n: we are now entering yn's suna-obsessed arc aewfafawef theyre just so horrendously down bad for each other i swear

[feel free to buy me a cup of coffee!]

---------------------------------------

Suna’s decided lack of caution comes with the discovery of two pieces of rather dangerous information. 

The first is that you very quickly become used to the feeling of sharing a bed with someone, to the point of relying on it. In the days after that fateful weekend, you fall asleep with Suna’s head on your chest and wake up with his arm draped across your waist, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You aren’t sure how you’d never once learned in passing that he’s the type of man to pull you closer and hold tight when you try to move away, but that knowledge is bad for you. 

It’s bad for you to find out, despite your subtle hints that he doesn’t need to do this every night, that he’s adamant about it. That even on the nights where nothing happens between you, he still drives you home from work with the unspoken expectation that he won’t be leaving. That those nights are the worst, truthfully, because he spends them pressing lingering kisses into your skin, his body laid between your thighs only so he can bury his face into the side of your neck and whisper that you look ‘ extra pretty ’ lounging in his t-shirt on your bed. 

And when you call him out for it, asking, between warm kisses on flushed skin, why he’s pushing this entirely separate boundary with you when the agreement was strictly sex, it’s bad for you that all he does is smile against you and whisper, in a voice that betrays a warning, ‘ I told you I was done being careful ’. 

It seems you’d been woefully unprepared for what he’d meant when he’d said he would fix things. 

The second bit of knowledge, equally – if not more – dangerous, is that Suna Rintarou is beautiful in a way that’s forbidden when he blushes. That getting him nervous enough to trigger that flush of embarrassment is easier than you’d thought it would be. That all it takes is for you to treat him the way he treats you, soft and sweet and quiet.

A whisper against his skin, the words ‘ you’re so pretty ’ after you kiss him perfectly sufficient in making his ears warm.

A smile, golden and warm, coupled with the admission of ‘ I missed you’ when he picks you up at work all it really takes to make him scratch at his brow with a shaky laugh, his face a little redder than before.

A question, in the middle of kissing him on his couch, his hands anchored to your waist as you sit comfortably in his lap. 

“ Will you tell me what you thought about? ” 

“Mm?” He responds, fingers dancing up to the clasp of your bra and tugging curiously. 

You breathe your consent, whole and eager, and shiver when he unhooks it. “In college.”

His hand twitches against your skin, and you almost smile, because he’s pulling away with wide eyes.

“In college…?” He blinks, and heat starts to spread across his cheeks. You watch it go, entranced, and nod.

“Please?” 

When he swallows nervously and flicks his eyes between yours before looking away, you know you would do anything to see that exact face again and again, as long as he’ll let you.

“Uh-” He smiles, shaking his head. “No, I don’t…” He pauses, thinking, and then shakes his head more forcefully. “No, definitely not.”

You pout, watching how his eyes come back to you just to track it. “Why not?”

“Because it’s fucking embarrassing,” He laughs. “Because I was a horny college kid.”

You tilt your head at him with a smile, combing your fingers through the hair at the base of his neck. “Just how horny are we talking here?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“I do,” You press. “That’s why I’m asking.”

“No,” He groans, and you’re certain that whatever he’s thinking must be bad, because his whole face is radiating warmth. “It’s… I don’t know how you’ll take it-”

“Alright,” You concede, shifting comfortably on his lap and smiling when he clamps onto your hips to still you, something warm pressing between your thighs. “Can I just get some detail? A crumb or two?” You laugh weakly. “It’s been on my mind all week.” 

He sighs, running a hand through his hair with a pained smile. “…what d’you wanna know?” 

“How many times? And when?” You start, launching into questions with a bright smile. “What did I do to make it happen? What did you think about-“ 

“O- kay ,” He interrupts with a laugh. “I’m not answering that one-“ When you pout again, he shrugs. “You want crumbs or not?” 

He laughs when you dejectedly mumble, ‘ I like crumbs ’, and then there’s a moment of silence, one where he eyes you and clearly weighs all his options. You wait as patiently as you can, scanning his face for clues. 

Finally, he sighs. 

“So, the first time-”

“Out of how many?” 

He blinks, and you watch his ears grow red as he scratches at his brow. “How am I s’posed to remember that…?” 

Your face splits in a wide grin. “You lost count.” 

He scowls, embarrassed. “Four of those times were completely on you.”

“Four! Why four?”

“You gonna let me talk?” 

You smile unconvincingly.

“The first one was the accident.” He meets your eyes and then looks away quickly. “You texted me, I was close. That’s it.”

“That’s what you said last time,” You argue. “Give me more than that.”

He groans. “We’d just hung out, and you sent the pictures we took together.“ He shakes his head, going quiet for a minute. “I dunno, I always thought you had a pretty smile, I guess. And I was already close…” 

You stare.

“My smile made you come?” 

Suna shuts his eyes, smiling wryly. “Said your name and everything.” 

It’s your turn to flush, his admission making your nerves tingle. “I like it when you say my name.” 

He peeks up at you, starting to smile and bringing your face close to his slowly. “I know you do.” He kisses you carefully, the push of his lips gentle. “But, at the time, I really just wanted to throw myself out a window.” 

You grin, kissing him again before asking, “And then? The second time?” 

He knocks his forehead softly against yours. “There was that heatwave, before third year.” 

Of course it would have been during the heatwave. “Was it the lack of clothes, Suna? Too much skin?” You tease, your smile growing when he laughs. 

“It was the dress. ” He shakes his head. “ Fucking summer dress .” 

You blink, vaguely remembering a yellow summer dress that you’d been forced to wear. It was the only thing that hadn’t made you want to tear your hair out in that heat.

More importantly, you remember that being the first day you’d ever wondered if Suna was angry with you, because he’d spent the entire afternoon sitting on the couch with his arms crossed and refusing to look at you, his knee bouncing in agitation.

“What about the summer dress?” You ask, immensely interested in this wonderful new insight.

“Not answering that.” 

“But-” 

“No.” He cuts you off with a smack of a kiss. “The third time was when we went to the beach, and the twins made you sit in my lap in the car.” 

You’re surprised by that, because you remember that day quite clearly – Aran and Kita piled into the backseat with Suna, everyone talking over each other and bickering about nothing. You remember being nervous about sitting between Suna’s legs on the bumpy ride there, because it was weird to sit so intimately with him. And because he’d put his hands on your thighs and kept them there the whole time, keeping you from flying around. You remember worrying that your thighs were too big, that they were big but not plush in the way boys like, and that Suna would be the first to find this out about you.

“Really? You seemed totally fine.”

“You had your ass pressed against me the entire time,” He jokes. 

“I know, I was there,” You argue, flushing. “But you were so calm about it.” 

“Yeah, probably because I was listing volleyball stats in my head to keep sane, and you were not making it better at all with how you kept shifting and moving and being very annoyingly soft in my arms.” 

You bark out a laugh. “You kept squeezing my thighs to keep me steady! It was nerve-wracking!” 

He blinks, brow furrowed, and a full beat passes.

And then he runs a hand over his face with a groan. “Oh, my God.”

You smack him playfully on the chest, smiling. “What!” 

He starts to laugh, hiding behind his hand. “I was probably feeling you up.” 

“Feeling me…“ You balk. “No way were you feeling me up.” 

“No?” He sets his hands right on your thighs and starts to squeeze, kneading and pulling and dragging his blunt nails lightly down your skin. You shiver visibly and watch him move, taking in how he spreads the pads of his fingers across your thighs and presses you down into his lap. “No way at all?” 

He slides his hands up to your waist and drags you flush against him, his lips brushing yours when you put your hands on his chest. “I was being a terrible friend, thinking about doing things to you in front of all our other friends, and you thought I was just keeping you steady ?” He smiles, and you feel it in places you shouldn’t. “That’s so sweet of you.” 

“ Tell me ,” You breathe, leaning toward him, your nerves screaming for him. “Tell me what you were thinking about.” 

He just tilts his head, green eyes flashing as he watches your mouth come close to his. “ Never .” 

You whine, and he cuts it short with a heated push of his lips against yours. 

“Please, Rin,” You try, and you feel him tense under your hands.

“You’re funny,” He laughs. “Using my name like that.” 

“I want you to tell me.”

“You’ll have to be more convincing than that,” He settles, smiling at you in a wicked, beautiful way. “But, for now, no.” He kisses you once, breathing it into your mouth. “ Don’t ask me again .” 

You sigh, pressing your forehead to his and feeling somewhere between annoyed that he’d said no and incredibly aroused that he’d spoken to you like that. “Then tell me about the fourth time.” 

That flash of embarrassment comes back, and the warm flush that heats your skin, too. He looks like he’s going to resist, so you dip your head and push your mouth against his. 

“Tell me.” 

“You-” He laughs, smiling weakly. “-were tying your shoes.” 

You blink, pulling away. “Huh?”

“It’s so stupid.” He groans, shaking his head. “You came over to my desk – in that random elective we took together – while I was packing my shit. You literally just bent down in front of me to tie your shoes, that was it.” His laugh turns delirious, as though retelling the story is enough to make him lose his mind. “You were talking about the assignment and tying your shoes in front of my desk, and then you looked up at me-” He drops his head to your shoulder, sighing. “ God, when you looked up at me… ” 

You blink rapidly, feeling your face warm as you listen to how he talks about you. 

“That’s when I knew I was fucked,” He breathes against your skin, and you feel when he shakes his head lightly against you.

Your heart races just next to where he has his face pressed into your skin. “You thought about me blowing you, didn’t you?” You tease, your body humming under his touch. 

He sighs, tightening his hold on you. “That’s not how I would have put it,” He admits, whispering like he doesn’t want you to hear it.

You swallow, your limbs starting to go a bit numb. “It’s not?”

He shakes his head slowly. “It’s too…” He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close and burying his face in your neck. You slide your fingers into his hair and scratch your nails against him gently, feeling when he shivers. “...nice.” 

Your stomach drops, and you pull away enough to look down at him. “What does that mean?”

He purses his lips, unable to meet your eyes. You watch his face redden.

“This is why I didn’t want you to know,” He complains, his voice strained, and his knee starts to bounce nervously, jostling you in his lap. “I never really cared with other girls, but I don’t want to turn you off.”

There’s a piece of you that burns with jealousy that there are girls in the world – in this city , even – that know something about Suna Rintarou that you don’t. But a bigger part of you is desperate to hear what he has to say.

“You won’t,” You assure him. “I promise you won’t.”

He scratches his neck, thinking. “You mentioned that first night that you like things… well, rough.” He swallows. “But I don’t know how rough you meant, so I didn’t want to push it-”

Your lips part while you stare down at him.

“Tell me,” You whisper to him, grabbing his face when he starts to shake his head. “Tell me,” You repeat. “You want me to beg? I will.” 

He breathes out a laugh, but you feel him harden slightly against your inner thigh, so you push.

“You said you wanted me to have everything I want, that you were mad that I haven’t yet,” You say, feeling his hands tighten on your waist. 

“I did,” He breathes, voice tight. “But-”

“Well, I want this,” You lean forward, pressing your lips against his. His hand cups the back of your head, and he kisses you softly. You pull away just enough to look into his eyes, so green and so close to giving you what you want. 

“ I want you to give me this, Rin .” 

Your stomach flips and your body fills with that fluttery feeling you’re starting to get around him, because you can pinpoint the exact moment you convince him, his hesitant eyes hardening into something that almost makes you nervous.

That night, when he presses your face into his mattress and makes you scream his name, his fingers are tangled brutally in your hair and your hands are clinging uselessly to his bed frame. When you come around him, your back tight against his chest, he’s got one hand wrapped around your throat and the other pressing thumbprint bruises into your hip with how tight he’s holding you. 

When he mumbles the word ‘ mine’ against the shell of your ear just before moaning your name and spilling into you, you know things with Suna Rintarou have changed.

–

In the week that follows, the change in your relationship manifests in ways you hadn’t expected.

On Monday, he tells you he has to go out of town in a week.

“There’s an art convention happening in Tokyo,” He says, circling you in the kitchen to make coffee. “They invited me to speak at a panel, something about art styles and careers.”

“That’s amazing!” You turn at the stove, beaming up at him. When he just shrugs, you nudge him. “That’s really cool, Rin. You should be more excited.”

He flushes and shakes his head with a laugh, and you realize just a moment too late that you’d called him Rin. 

You clear your throat, turning back to make sure your food doesn’t burn. He’s refused breakfast every day for the past week, but you’ve learned that if you set a simple piece of toast next to his coffee cup, it mysteriously disappears when you’re not looking.

Still, cooking for just yourself in his apartment is a new habit, one that he encourages by restocking his fridge every few days with foods you know he doesn’t like. 

“How long will you be gone?” You ask, plating your breakfast and following him to the couch.

“A week.” He pulls his laptop out from under the coffee table, kicking his feet up. “You should stay,” He says without looking up.

You blink, still processing the fact that it had felt like a punch in the gut to learn that he’d be gone an entire week. “Stay where?”

“Here.” 

“Here?”

He purses his lips, glancing at you playfully. “Yes, here .” 

You roll your eyes. “I have an apartment, Suna.”

If he thinks anything of the name change, he doesn’t say it. He just goes back to his laptop, and you see that he’s booking flights. “I’m aware. But if you stay here, then you can make everything smell like you.”

You stare, wondering if he realizes what he’s saying. That he wants you to live here while he’s gone, that he wants you to leave traces of yourself for him to find later.

“Uh,” You warm, staring down at your breakfast with unseeing eyes. “Okay, I’ll think about it.”

You can see the question in his eyes when they flick to you quickly. “Alright. Well, regardless,” He sighs, nodding toward the little key bowl in his entryway while typing away. “Take the car. I don’t want you on the train after work.”

You have nothing to say to that, your ears thrumming with your heartbeat as you remind yourself that Suna’s just a friend.

–

On Tuesday, Osamu kicks you out of the shop, piling your arms high with containers of baked goods. They’re new recipes for Suna to sample and give his brutally honest opinion on, but the twin had only kicked you out in the middle of the working day because you wouldn’t stop asking him about his date with Yachi. You’d prodded about everything – what he’d wore, what they’d ordered to eat, what they’d talked about – and he’d given you every single detail with only a little embarrassment.

But the second you’d suggested he walk down the road to her shop to say hello, he’d all but put his foot on your ass and launched you out of the store.

“Don’t come back until closing,” He warns, shutting the jingling door in your face.

When you walk into Suna’s shop thirty minutes later, juggling boxes full of cakes and pastries, he’s finishing up with a client that should be on the cover of a magazine.

“Oh,” He says in surprise, eyes widening when he sees you. “Hey.” 

You stand there, feeling painfully out of place while the woman looks you over. He’d tattooed her ribcage, and she’s got one hand on his shoulder to keep her arm lifted while he wraps the finished piece.

“Samu kicked me out,” You say dumbly, jostling the boxes with an awkward laugh. That hand she’s got on him is making your blood pressure rise. “I can just leave these in your office and go.” 

Suna doesn’t see the woman look between you, too busy narrowing his eyes at you. “I’ll be done in a sec,” He says carefully, nodding toward his office. “Wanna wait for me?” 

“You seem busy.”

It’s cold enough to draw his eyebrows up high on his forehead, and the woman’s lips lift in the ghost of a smirk. You want to curl up and die.

“I’m not,” He says cleanly, finally seeming to realize that you’re not looking at him but over his shoulder at the girl who’s eyeing you like you’re less than her. “Give me two minutes, and then I’m all yours.”

His smile is knowing when your gaze flicks back to him, and you catch a tinge of annoyance coloring the woman’s smile. 

You say nothing, turning to head to the back and trying to stop the twinge of pleasure that comes when you hear him call out to his assistant.

“ Block my schedule, Suki, will you?”

“You got it – for Y/n?”

“Who else?” 

When he joins you in his office, you’re rolling your eyes. “That was cheesy.”

“Incredibly,” He smiles, dropping down on the couch next to you. “But you were acting jealous, so, obviously, the situation was dire.” 

“I was not-” You scoff. “I was not jealous .” 

“No, no, of course not.” He reaches to unstack the boxes you’d left on the table, opening one. There’s a set of muffins inside, all different flavors. “Just looked like you wanted to stab her with one of my tattoo needles, that’s all.” 

“ She had her hand on your shoulder ,” You grumble, breaking a piece off of the muffin that you’re certain is blueberry lemon. You hand him the rest, ignoring the smile he’s giving you. 

“Okay. I’m sorry.” He takes a bite, and you do the same. It’s a little too sweet, and the way Suna’s face pinches tells you he feels the same. You make a note of it for Osamu. “It won’t happen again,” He continues, setting the pastry down.

“No,” You sigh, feeling guilty. “You don’t have to accommodate me. I’m just being bratty, it’s fine.” Your exes had never liked your insecure streak, claiming it made you look childish.

But Suna displays no sign of feeling the same, just shrugging as he reaches for another muffin. “It upset you, right?” When you say nothing, he glances at you with a small smile. “Okay, so it won’t happen again. Simple.” 

There’s a knock on the door, one you barely hear while trying to understand how that conversation had been so easy. He stands, pulling the door open.

“Oh. What’s up?” He says, a bit confused. 

You glance up, finding his client there smiling up at him beautifully. Her eyes meet yours, and a brow lifts curiously. You look down at yourself, finding muffin crumbs all over your shirt, and you brush them off with an embarrassed flush. 

“I just wanted to give you your tip in person,” The woman says, her voice dripping in honey. She presses a wad of cash into his palm and then lays a perfectly manicured hand on his bicep. “You were really good. Can I come see you again?”

You swallow, ears burning. But Suna just calmly pulls away from her, stepping back to hand the cash to you while her hand flops uselessly at her side. You take the money with wide eyes.

“Guess dinner’s on me tonight,” He smiles down at you and ignores the girl briefly, and you see there’s a hint of irritation in his expression. “I was starting to feel guilty with you cooking every night.” 

The woman watches the money pass from Suna’s hand to yours, and you swear she’s imagining several ways to kill you and get away with it. 

He turns back to her and smiles politely. “I’d definitely be down to work with you again, but you can just make appointments and leave payment with Suki in the future. I suck at keeping track of it all.” 

You almost feel bad for how hard he shuts her down, but you’re too busy wondering what alternate universe you’ve walked into. Suki’s voice in the hall only adds to the chaos.

“ You’re still here?”

Suna laughs, because she’s adding ‘ I swear, I go to the bathroom for two minutes and you get ambushed. ’ 

The girl fumbles, her composure falling when she looks back at Suki. “I-”

“ And you can’t come back here like this ,” Suki interrupts, and you wish so badly that you could see her sassy little face. “ This is a private area .” 

You busy yourself with opening cake boxes so your pleased grin is hidden behind your hair. You don’t see how the moment ends, but Suna’s closing the door soon and coming back to the couch with a sigh.

“How was that?” He asks, reaching for a plastic fork so he can dig into the layer cake you’re presenting him with. He hums when he tastes it, nodding. “‘s good.”

You nod, putting it down. “You were horrible and I enjoyed every second.” 

“Perfect, then,” He says, reaching for another open cake box. “What do you want for dinner?”

You’re quiet, remembering how his client had looked down on you, you with your clothes that don’t fit right and the muffin crumbs on your shirt. Your stomach turns with the distantly familiar and always unpleasant urge to be hard on yourself.

It slips out, despite years of learning how to coach yourself out of it.

“I’m not too hungry today,” You start, brushing lint from your pants. “The cake is filling me u- mm- ” 

Your face squishes between his fingers, cutting you short and forcing you to look up at him. He stares back and squeezes your face hard.

“I don’t like where your head just went,” He says plainly, and you take it as a warning. 

“ Suna- ”

“I’m buying us dinner. You’re going to eat it, right?” He lifts a brow.

You swallow, mumbling through his hold. “ Right. ”

“Good,” He smiles. “Curry sound good?”

You blink rapidly when he forces you to nod, because he’s only allowing one answer. “ I like curry. ”

“Yeah.” He finally lets you go, but you stay close, breathing him in while he holds eye contact. “You do.” He holds his fork between you, eyes flicking to the cake he’d just tasted. “Try it. It’s good.”

You take it and move almost mechanically to spear into the dessert. Only when you lift the bite to your mouth does he stop watching you.

Wordlessly, he pulls his phone from his pocket and leans back against the couch, opening his delivery apps to look for curry. You watch him scroll away, hit again with that strange realization that you’ll miss him desperately next week.

–

On Wednesday, he starts making jokes about your relationship.

A text lights up your phone just as you’re explaining the many tea options in your shop to a young girl who looks wonderfully excited to try something new. You ignore the text for a moment, finishing up with her and then leaving her to talk with her parents. 

You reach for your phone, refusing to acknowledge that you’d hoped it’d be him.

[12:56 PM]

Sunarin : i have to go to the bank to take out cash for my trip

Sunarin : go with me?

You smile, a bit warmed by him asking you to do something so domestic with him. Sleeping semi-permanently in his bed and drinking your coffee together in the morning is arguably far more domestic than this, but there’s something different about being in public with him. The idea of your dynamic stretching into places where other people can see it makes your nerves light up.

You : scared to face the bank tellers yourself?

Sunarin : terrified

Sunarin : go with me, ill buy you a sweet treat after

You : you need to put the internet down for a few days

You : all those tiktoks about gfs and their sweet treats are not about us

Sunarin : yes they are

Sunarin : go with me

You stare down at nothing, dissociating as you process what he’d just said. You hear the girl deciding at the counter that she wants to try the french vanilla earl grey that you’d said was popular, so you type out a quick response and throw your phone on the counter.

You : smh fine

You come back after ringing the family up for their drinks, Haru tearing the order from the printer beside you.

Sunarin : see? youre just a sweet treat gf

When he picks you up after work, your face burns and your stomach flutters the entire way to the bank. He slides his hand over your thigh halfway there, and you hide your face in your hands.

He doesn’t ask what’s making you nervous, and you don’t ask what he’d meant. You have the distinct feeling that you don’t need to.

At the bank, the teller mistakenly calls you his girlfriend while making small talk, and he doesn’t correct her. 

When he pulls you into his lap that night, you’re overheating and trembling just a little bit as you start to really wonder what you are to him. There’s a piece of you that foolishly thinks that him being rough in bed will remind you that you aren’t anything, really. That your friends with benefits arrangement is as it was before.

But he doesn’t fuck you the way you expect him to. He just buries his fingers in your hair and breathes the words ‘Stop overthinking this’ into your ear. You relax against him, and then he fucks you slow, rewarding you for listening and talking you over the edge with him in a way that makes you want more.

You want more with him.

–

Thursday is uneventful – or, at least you think it is, because you have no time in the day to think or process anything that’s happening with you and Suna. The Black Jackals are playing, so your shop has a line out the door and around the corner. You and Haru play a game he likes to call ‘Dodge or Die’, where you have to be perfect at avoiding each other or risk spilling someone’s drink all over the other’s head. 

Suna texts you a few times throughout the day, but you don’t get a chance to look at them until it’s nearly closing time. When you check, you see that there’s just a couple memes and a separate reminder to eat and drink water, because he knows exactly what kind of day you’re having. 

He doesn’t make another joke about you being his girlfriend, and – although you weren’t expecting a high frequency of that, considering it’s been less than 24 hours – you wonder if maybe you’d overdone it last night. You wonder if you’d betrayed your feelings too much, if he’d seen that you’d taken it as more than a joke and now he’s laying off.

You sit in your office, staring at the wall as those thoughts spin circles around your head, and you dread having to text him back.

He calls before you have time to figure out what to say, your phone lighting up on your desk.

Your heart drops.

“Hello?”

“ Done with work? ”

His voice makes your palms sweat, and you recognize that that’s a terrible sign for you keeping your feelings in check.

“Yeah,” You sigh. “It was exhausting, but a busy day’s always good.”

“ And we have celebration drinks tomorrow .”

You vaguely recall Atsumu texting your group chat after the game, declaring a get-together with the Black Jackals at some bar downtown tomorrow night.

“Oh, yeah… That’ll be fun.” You cringe, hearing how awkward you sound. There’s a pause, one where you think he must be deciding what to say.

“ Do you want me to come pick you up? Or do you want space? ”

You drop your head to your hand, tears pricking behind your eyes. The fact that he’s asking means he’d noticed – because he always notices – that something’s different with you now. You’re terrified to find out what that means on his end.

“Uhm,” Your voice wavers, and you want to throw your phone in the trash. “Maybe space…?”

It’s better. It’s best there’s space. Maybe space would fix things – force your head back onto your shoulders. Bring you back down to reality, the one where Suna is entirely out of your league and you’re better off not becoming delusional about your relationship with him.

“ Okay ,” He says, and then there’s quiet. “ Do you want me to ask you again? ” 

He makes you feel safe in a way that scares you.

“... Yes ,” You whisper, because you’re certain your voice would crack otherwise.

“ Do you want me to pick you up? ”

“Yes.” 

You were right. Your voice does crack.

“ Give me ten minutes to close up? And then I’ll head over. ”

“Okay.” 

Later, when he leads you by the hand to his couch and sits you down, it’s between his legs, his arms belted tight around your middle and holding your back against his chest. You watch TV in silence, and then – when you finally gather the courage to face him – you turn in place, climbing into his lap and burying your face in his neck. He hugs you tight, waiting.

“ ‘m sorry ,” You mumble, heartbeat thrumming in your veins. He presses his head to your shoulder, arms warm around you. 

“For what?”

“Running.”

You feel him smile. 

“Does that mean you’ll stop running?”

“I can try,” You laugh weakly.

“If I ask you to,” He starts, sighing into your skin. “Will you?”

You tighten your hold on him and nod, pressing a hesitant kiss to his pulse point. “I’ll do my best.”

“ Promise ?” He wraps his fingers in your hair. “Promise you’ll stay?”

Your face burns, but you nod again. “Promise.”

“ That’s my girl ,” He whispers.

You desperately want him to mean that.

–

On Friday morning, you wake to Suna’s lips on your throat. You feel him climbing between your thighs, and it takes several seconds to gain your bearings. You blink rapidly, feeling his hands sliding under your shirt, palms hot on your skin.

“ Mm ?” You ask, fingers carding into his hair on instinct.

“ Sorry ,” He murmurs. “ Woke up a little needy .” He kisses down the length of your throat, hands wandering, unseen. “ You look really good in my shirt. ” 

You shiver, glancing at the clock on his bedside table. It’s almost 9. “We don’t have time-”

“I know,” He says quickly, warm hands cupping your breasts. “But, can we?” He kisses you, lips full and tempting. “I just… I’m not gonna see you all day, and, when I do see you, it’s gonna be at the bar with other people, and after last night, I just want-” He buries his face in your neck, letting out an unhinged laugh. “ Fuck .” 

“What?” You breathe, already lifting your hips by the time he cautiously hooks his fingers into your panties. You find, unsurprisingly, that you like it most when he blushes the way he is now. “What is it?”

“‘ s embarrassing ,” He mumbles, preoccupying himself with watching how your underwear looks sliding down your thighs. 

You laugh quietly. “I think we’re past that.”

“I dunno how to say it.”

“Try.” 

He groans, and you use your grip on his hair to force him to look at you. You kiss him, mumbling ‘ Try ’ against his lips. 

He hides in your neck again, pushing his boxers down to his knees blindly. He slides his cock between your folds, sighing heatedly when you shiver and whisper his name. 

“I want to-” He rocks against you, a quiet moan falling past his lips when he feels how wet you’re getting. You feel more than hear when he, in a voice that wavers just enough to warm you, finally says what’s on his mind. “ Wanna come inside you .”

Your heart jumps. “You do that every time,” You say, knowing full well that that’s not what he’s saying.

He shakes his head anyway, swallowing after a moment. “ Wanna ruin you .”

There it is. What he really wants.

Your head explodes in white noise, your fingers going numb where you hold tight to him.

The head of his cock nudges against your entrance, and he’s lifting his head to kiss you once, both your lips parting in silent moans when he slips just inside.

“Yes,” You breathe, nodding your consent. Your heart is racing everywhere in your body, his admission ringing in your ears. “ Please do .” 

His eyes roll slightly back as he pushes fully into you, his sigh shaky as he whispers ‘ Fuck ’ against your mouth.

The pace he finds is one that has your lungs crying for air. 

You dig your nails into his back, stomach lurching when he moans in response and throws his arm out to grip the headboard. 

“ Feel so good ,” He whispers. “Always so good. Better than I’d imagined.”

A memory of him admitting that he’d lost track of the times he’d thought about you flies through your head.

You breathe his name, stumbling over your words.

“I-Is this what you thought about in college? Fuck …Fucking me like this?”

He groans, head hanging over you as he nods. “Yes– fuck –yes-” He slams his hips against yours, again and again, his pace uneven and desperate. “Thought about you all the time. Hated myself, but I couldn’t-” He shakes his head, laughing slightly. “ I was obsessed with you. ”

You clench around him, throwing your head back and moaning his name. His lips brush against your ear, his voice tight. 

“ I think I still am. ”

The coil in your navel lurches, yanking tight and pulling you close. You stutter over it, clinging tight to him. “ Rin , I’m-”

He shudders, and you feel him twitch inside of you. “This is mine,” He breathes when your walls start to flutter around him. “I need this– I want you to need this.” He tangles his fingers in your hair, pulling taut and keeping his mouth pressed to your ear. “ You belong right here, wrapped around me just like this- ”

You think he might be the first one to go tumbling over the edge, his hips stilling when he spills into you with a groan of your name, but you follow so close behind that you can’t say for certain who went first.

After you come down, you find that he’s kissing you, lips moving lazily against yours. You wind your arms around his neck and kiss him for a while just like that – him still buried between your thighs and your hearts still racing against each other.

“Thank you for not letting me run,” You whisper eventually, kissing him earnestly and feeling when he smiles into it. 

“Your avoidant anxiety is going to be the thing that kills me. You know that, right?”

You don’t let him go for another hour, and Osamu’s incredibly unimpressed when you walk into work two hours late. 

–

You go home on your own after work, Suna texting to let you know he’s got a late client and will just meet you at the bar. 

Your brain still tingles every time you think about the events of the morning, his admission of being obsessed with you keeping you light on your toes all day. You sort through your closet, humming, and feel a kind of confidence that’s entirely foreign to you. 

Thinking back, you realize how silly it is that you’d retreated so far into yourself after Wednesday. He’d admitted, in vulnerable detail, all the things he thought of you in college, and then he’d asked you to stay at his house while he’s on his trip. He’d taken you seriously when you’d gotten insecure in his office, and he’d told you on more than one occasion to stop overthinking so much. To just follow him and see where things go.

He’d admitted he was obsessed with you. 

How could you possibly disrespect that by ignoring every sign he’s given you from the start? You don’t have to worry with him – you just have to stop thinking.

Your hand passes over a dress, pushing it down the clothesline, and then you’re stalling and bringing it back. A yellow summer dress, the only one you own. You glance out the window in thought. It’s warm enough for this to be admissible, but will it fit? You haven’t worn this in years.

You throw it on, examining yourself in the mirror. You normally wouldn’t be comfortable with it, sensing how tight it gets around the tummy before it hangs loosely around your thighs, and it’s a bit short. But it’s also nearly summer, and you’re going to a bar with your friends.

It should be fine, right?

You weigh the idea, turning back and forth and looking yourself over. 

The memory of Suna whispering ‘ Wanna ruin you ’ in your ear makes goosebumps break out all over your skin. 

“Alright, fuck it,” You tell yourself, swiping your phone off the vanity and leaving your room before you can change your mind.

When you get to the bar, you realize that you’d taken so long to get ready that Suna’s already there. The entirety of the Black Jackals is piled up in a corner, rowdy and excited around a few tables as they throw back a round of shots. 

You squeeze past a group of girls, finding Suna talking to Atsumu off to the side. You try to head toward him, but there’s an absolute mountain of a man cutting you short.

“ Y/n! You look so pretty! ” Bokuto yells, your eardrums screaming for mercy. You look up at him, laughing awkwardly.

“Jesus, Bo-” You catch movement over his shoulder, and you look, seeing that Suna’s turning in your direction, since Bokuto had announced your arrival.

He’s mid-sip when he turns, but the moment he lays eyes on you, they’re going wide. He chokes, spraying his drink all over Atsumu’s face. The blond just stands there covered in Suna’s ejected drink, deadpan, and you spot Sakusa in the back, bent at the waist and pounding a fist on the table as he laughs into his hand. Osamu’s not far away, shaking his head with an amused grin but more preoccupied with keeping his attention on Yachi, who looks impossibly pretty beside him.

Bokuto sees nothing, going in for a crushing hug. “If I’d known you’d dress up like this for us whenever we win, we’d be unstoppable!” 

It’s only the hand Hinata sets on Bokuto’s arm that frees you, the ginger peeling his senior off of you. “You’re killing her, Bokuto,” He laughs, hugging you quickly when you wheeze out a quiet ‘ Thanks, Shou’ and rub at your arms.

“Here to break hearts again?” He asks cutely, eyeing you appreciatively. “Looks like it to me.” 

“Just one heart,” You say shyly, glancing at where Suna is patting napkins against Atsumu’s wet skin with a sheepish smile. He meets your eyes briefly, and you watch him scan the length of your body. There’s a suspicious pink tint coloring his ears, but he just shakes his head and turns back to Atsumu. 

Hinata follows your gaze, nodding with a quiet ‘ Ah’. “Seems like you’ve already done it, then,” He laughs, referencing the way Suna keeps glancing back at you with an increasingly redder face. You smile, squeezing Hinata’s arm before pointing at the bar. 

“I think I’ve got a bit of catching up to do-” You gesture at Sakusa, who’s still howling with laughter in a way that’s unlike him, his glowing face telling you he’s close to plastered.

Hinata lets you go, and you make your way to the bar. The girl working is nice enough, but you can see her looking you over while she makes you a vodka cranberry. The way her eyebrows lift after she assesses you makes it clear that she’s not going to compliment your outfit anytime soon.

“Y/n!”

You jump, turning to find Yachi all but running to join you. She bumps you with her shoulder, beaming up at you. 

“You look so freaking good,” She says, wrapping her arms tight around you. “This new style you’re trying is killer. I didn’t realize how hot you were until the party at Atsumu’s,” She giggles, and you laugh as you hug her back. She’s a little drunk, but her compliments warm you and make you adore her more than ever. 

“You haven’t seen yourself, little miss Hitoka,” You tease. “Samu looks like he’s going to curl up in a ball any minute now.” 

She blushes, pressing her hands to her cheeks. “He’s so sweet,” She says, smiling to herself before looking up at you. “He told me you were always pushing him to make a move. I’m so happy he did.” 

You glance back, catching the way Osamu’s looking at her. He sees you watching and meets your eyes, smiling knowingly and then gesturing to your dress. You get a thumbs-up of approval, one that helps your confidence in ways he probably will never realize, especially since you can still feel the bartender watching you.

You turn back to Yachi with a bright smile. “You two look really good together. I’m probably breaking a million rules by telling you this, but,” You lean forward conspiratorily, and she comes close with wide eyes so you can whisper to her. “ He really likes you .”

She hides her face right away, her happy giggles making you love her just a little bit. She smacks you playfully on the arm, shaking her head.

“You’re one to talk – you didn’t see Suna ruin Atsumu’s night earlier?” 

You laugh, sipping your drink. “He’s so stupid.”

It’s lovesick, even to your ears.

Yachi hums in disbelief. “That man likes you , Y/n. You can’t tell me you don’t see that.”

The words ‘ I was obsessed with you ’ ring in your ears.

“That-” You laugh, staring down at your drink with a warm face. “-would be something, huh?” 

You talk to her at the bar for a while, and then she’s glancing over your shoulder curiously.

“I better leave you now,” She says with a smile. When you just tilt your head, she lifts a shoulder in a shrug, turning away from you. “I’m gonna pretend Samu just called my name from across the bar.” 

And then she’s gone, leaving you with an empty drink and no idea what’s just happened. 

You wave the bartender down, ordering another vodka cranberry. She’s just as almost-nice as before, her eyes judgmental when she scans you again. She leaves you feeling a bit out of place, but there’s a body pressing against yours before you can fall into it.

“ What in the ever-loving fuck did I do to deserve this? ”

You tense, Suna’s voice in your ear making your heart jump. You turn, seeing how close he is as he leans his elbows on the bar. He lifts his brows, waiting. 

“What?” You laugh, shaking your head. “I just thought it’d be nice to dress up for the celebration.” 

“Celebration, my ass,” He grumbles, looking you over. “You haven’t worn that since college.”

“Oh, really? Interesting that you noticed,” You say, looking down at yourself and pretending not to see the way his eye twitches.

“ Y/n ,” He breathes, and you feel the impatience in his tone. “You’re killing me. Miya already threatened to charge me for his dry-cleaning-”

“What can I get you?” 

You both turn, finding the bartender standing there. She slides you your drink but keeps her eyes firmly on Suna, her gaze trailing over his inked arms and piercings. 

He pretends not to see it, just glancing at the wall of hard liquor behind her. “A Jack and Coke is good, thanks.” And then he turns back to you, leaning close. “What did Hinata say to you when you came in?”

You smile, about to tease him for acting jealous, but the bartender’s interrupting again.

“I’ve never seen you in here before,” She says, smiling flirtily at him. 

Suna blinks slowly at her, and you watch disinterest glaze over his eyes. “Just here to celebrate with some friends.”

“Oh, yeah, I saw them-” She nods to where Atsumu and Sakusa are bickering and laughing at each other. “Those are the Black Jackals, right? Crazy that you know them.” She looks at him again. “Could you introduce me?” 

“You could just introduce yourself when they come order their drinks,” He suggests, standing to his full height and crossing his arms. 

You sigh, because you know that he’s trying to warn her off, but he only makes things worse – his tattoos and piercings on top of his height are guaranteed to make her want him more.

Sure enough, her eyes light with interest when she realizes how tall he is, and she starts to push harder while she makes his drink. You reach into your pocket for some cash while she talks, just wanting to pay her for your drink and get the hell away from her. There’s another bartender further down the room – you can just go to him for your drinks tonight. 

“Maybe I could,” The woman says, smiling and sliding his drink across the bar to him. “I should probably start with you, huh?” 

“You could certainly try,” He smiles back, but you see that it’s mocking.

She takes it as encouragement, leaning over to hold a hand out to him. “Kaori. Sure would be a shame for you to leave here alone tonight.” 

He stares down at it, and you’re smacked with the memory of every time he’d left one of your exes hanging. The unimpressed flick of his eyes to yours drives the nostalgia home. 

“What makes you think I’m alone?” 

You twirl the folded cash between your fingers, waiting with growing irritation. This woman had interrupted your conversation – clearly personal – more than once, and she shows no sign of letting up, even though you’re still here beside him.

The twinge of irritation twists into cold anger when she just pulls her hand back and glances over his shoulder, examining the table full of your friends. The only other girl there is Yachi, and it’s obvious who she’s with.

“Well, it doesn’t look like you’re with anyone.”

“You sure about that?” You snap.

Her eyes fly to you, and you see Suna’s head turn just the same. Your face burns, but you’re too angry to feel embarrassed. You lay a set of bills on the bar that should cover both your drinks and then meet her eyes.

“Because it looks to me like he’s taken.”

You hold eye contact with her for just a moment longer before lifting your eyes to Suna’s.

He’s looking at you like he never has before. His face is flushed and his smile is shy, and it makes your nerves flip to think that’s because of you, but it’s his eyes that catch you – bright and full of pride, he looks at you like you’ve given him something he thought might never come.

Veins humming with affection for this man in front of you, you swipe your drink off the bar and turn, walking away. He appears at your side in an instant, a hand pressing against your lower back.

“What was that?” He asks, voice betraying the laugh he’s suppressing.

“Next time, try not to make it clear just how attractive you are, please,” You mutter, rolling your eyes and letting him walk you to a couple seats in the back.

“I was just minding my business,” He teases, smiling as he leans his elbows on the table and meets your eye. You mirror him, leaning close.

“Well, she was minding mine .”

You leave him there, sitting at the table with his face buried in his hands and his ears red under the dim bar lights. You make your way back to Hinata, sitting with him and Bokuto and watching with a smile as they recount the previous day’s match in unrealistic detail. Your phone buzzes in your purse, and you make a point of barely glancing at it, because you can feel his eyes on you.

[7:17 PM]

Sunarin : possessive looks really fucking good on you

–

You manage to avoid him for the better part of the night, dancing around his every attempt to join you while you mingle with the MSBY boys. You can tell that the bartender must think you two are fighting because of her – she does her best to catch Suna’s eye whenever he asks the other bartender for a drink. It makes you smile, because he stands there every time, oblivious to her desperate act as he types furiously on his phone.

It just so happens that your phone buzzes repeatedly in your purse around that time, too, text after text keeping him from even realizing there’s another woman in the room vying for his attention.

[8:01 PM]

Sunarin : you never told me what hinata ended up telling you

Sunarin : he was checking you out though

[8:28 PM]

Sunarin : why arent you letting me sit next to you

Sunarin : y/n 

Sunarin : sit next to me damn it

[9:15 PM]

Sunarin : woman if you dont stop leaning over to talk to bokuto across the table

Sunarin : your ASS is OUT

[9:57 PM]

Sunarin : fucking hell what do you want from me

Sunarin : why are you torturing me

You laugh at that, unable to stop your smile after so many drinks and so many attempts on his end to get your attention. Another text comes in almost immediately.

Sunarin : i fucking SAW THAT

Sunarin : tell me what you want 

Sunarin : i will do literally anything

Your head swims from the alcohol, and you type back exactly what’s on your mind.

You : youre cute when youre obsessed

When he doesn’t respond, you look up, finding that he’s staring right at you with knowing eyes, the glow of his phone lighting up his face. He lifts a brow, typing a response without looking away.

Sunarin : so thats what this is ab

You swallow, suddenly nervous with the way he’s staring at you. You phone buzzes, and you break eye contact to read it.

Sunarin : you been thinking ab that all day, baby girl?

Mother of all fuck. 

You breathe a shaky sigh and turn away from him while you think.

Sunarin : aw, did i make you nervous?

You groan, rubbing at your brow.

You : youre funny

Sunarin : and youre lying

You blink rapidly, unsure what to do with that. And then you lock your phone quickly, because there’s a body bumping into yours.

It’s Sakusa, looking like he’s on another dimension of drunk.

“ Y/n, ” He slurs, draping his arms around you and leaning his cheek on top of your head.

“Hi, Kiyoomi,” You laugh, wrapping an arm around his waist, careful not to put your actual hands on him, because even trashed, he’s holding his own away from your body. 

“ You know something? ” He asks, and you struggle to hear him over the noise of the bar. Your phone buzzes, and you glance at it.

Sunarin : whats wrong y/n

Sunarin : dont want sakusa to know youre thinking ab how i fucked you this morning?

You turn the screen away from the man hugging you, lowering your brightness in a panic.

“I get the feeling you’ll tell me,” You joke, wincing when Sakusa tightens his hold. Are all these guys unaware of their strength? They’re professional athletes, for fuck’s sake.

“ Tsumu really loves you, Y/n,” He says, swaying. “ He loves you so much – he just wants you to be happy .”

Your heart swells, and you’re glancing over at Atsumu, who’s dancing like an idiot with Meian. You can only imagine how much he has to talk about you for Sakusa to be saying this right now.

“ I love you, too, now, ” Sakusa presses a drunken kiss into your hair. “ Tsumu’s made me love you, Y/n – we want you to be happy. ” 

You press your face against his chest, hoping he can feel how much that sentiment warms you.

Your phone buzzes.

Sunarin : did he just kiss you

You : suna hes shitfaced

Sunarin : try again

You sigh, squeezed tight in Sakusa’s oblivious hold.

You : rin, please

Sunarin : cute

Sunarin : so fucking cute

You struggle to glance behind you, but you see that Suna’s at the table, smile amused.

Sunarin : do you want to find out how obsessed i am with you?

You : dont do anything stupid

You : hes not even on the same plane of existence as us rn

Sunarin : oh i wont

Sunarin : but i wouldnt mind if he watched me explain to you how many times ive thought about fucking you in that dress

Your eyes widen, and you’re pressing the screen to your chest and glancing up at Sakusa. He’s still swaying, eyes closed a little bit.

“I-I love him, too, Kiyoomi,” You start. “You make him really happy, and that makes me happy.”

“ Yeah ?” He grins shyly, and you catch the little lovesick look you know you get with Suna. “ He makes me happy, too. Should I ask him to make it official? ”

You stare up at him, your soul warm. This man really cares about Atsumu, you realize. You’d seen it before, but this is entirely separate. He’s confessing to you, when every guard he has is down, just how much Atsumu means to him.

Movement catches your eye, and you see that Atsumu’s standing just past Sakusa’s shoulder, staring at the back of his head with wide eyes. He meets your eyes, and you know he’d heard it, too. 

You keep eye contact with him while you hug Sakusa, nodding carefully. “Yeah, Kiyoomi. I think you should ask him.”

Atsumu flushes, and he starts to smile nervously, gaze hopeful as he steps up to you and presses a hand to Sakusa’s back. The germaphobe flinches away from the touch, turning with alarm.

And then you watch as he realizes it’s Atsumu and relaxes completely under his hand. 

Your phone buzzes, and you’re distinctly aware of how terrible it is for Suna to be sexting you while Atsumu’s in the middle of falling in love.

“ Tsumu, ” Sakusa says, pleased, and releases you. You glance down in the seconds before Atsumu can be in sight of your screen.

Sunarin : do you think if i bent you over the bar and fucked you right here, that bartender might finally get the hint?

Atsumu’s side presses against yours, but his attention’s on Sakusa, so you type fast.

You : rin, come on

You : we’re in public

Sunarin : never stopped me from thinking ab it before

Sunarin : that day in the car

Sunarin : on the way to the beach

Sunarin : do you wanna know what i was thinking ab?

You stare down at your phone, waiting, but he doesn’t tell you.

Sunarin : im waiting, y/n.

You want to scream.

You : yes, rin

You : of course i want to fucking know

You : youre killing me

Sunarin : mouthy

Sunarin : should i stuff my fingers in your mouth to shut you up?

The floor falls out from under you, your brain going blank. Any care you have for who’s next to you or who could see your phone leaves you. All you can do is wait.

Sunarin : thats what i thought about that day

“ Got somethin’ to ask me, Omi-kun? ” You hear Atsumu ask, his voice shy. Sakusa laughs quietly beside him.

“Later, Tsumu. I want it to be special. ”

Sunarin : in that car full of all our friends

“ Okay. Not gonna forget, are ya? ”

“ Never. I’ve been wanting to ask for a while. ”

“ Yeah? ”

“ Yeah. ”

“ Okay ,” Atsumu laughs, finally dropping it. You feel him nudge you then, trying to get your attention, but you forget to give it to him.

Sunarin : i thought about burying two fingers in your pretty little cunt and using my other hand to keep you quiet

Sunarin : thought about it for weeks after

Sunarin : thinkin about it now

“Y/n, I think I’mma head out soon- what the fuck- ” 

Your head whips up, and you find Atsumu with one hand over his eyes. 

“ Christ , Y/n, I didn’ need all that.”

You just stare up at him with wide, unseeing eyes, Suna’s text playing on repeat in your head. You start to giggle, worsened when your phone buzzes again.

Sunarin : whoops

You laugh louder, smacking Atsumu on the chest. He groans, digging the heel of his hand into his eye. 

“You two are gonna fuckin’ kill me one day, I swear,” He complains. “First the drink, now this?”

You fist his shirt in your hand and drag him down, planting a giddy kiss on his cheek. 

“I love you, too, Tsumu.” You look to Sakusa, who has no idea what’s just traumatized his future boyfriend. “And you, Kiyoomi. I love you, too.”

The man beams cutely down at you before grabbing Atsumu and pulling him toward the door. The blond goes with him, and you hear a whiny ‘ Never goin’ to the beach with them again, Omi-kun ’. 

You turn back to Suna, eyebrows raised. You’re glad to see that his pleased grin is a bit embarrassed.

When you reach him, he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close.

“Well done,” You say, nodding very seriously. “He’s going to need therapy.”

“That’s not new,” He jokes, throwing his phone on the table so he can card his fingers through your hair. “Wanna get outta here?” 

“Why?” You tease, letting him pull your face close to his. “So you can keep telling me all about the depraved things you wanted to do to me in front of our friends?”

“No.” He brushes his lips over yours, eyes trained on your mouth before he lifts them to meet yours. “So I can show you what I meant when I said that you blowing me was the nice way to put it.” 

You moan quietly, clinging to him and thanking every higher power that exists that no one’s back here in this corner with you. “Rin…”

“You wanna leave?”

You nod furiously. He just smiles.

“Then go say bye to everyone.” When you nod again and start to pull away, he yanks you back, pushing his lips to yours heatedly. “ Wipe that look off your face, or they’re going to know that I’m thinking about fucking your mouth in the backseat of my car. ”

Your legs wobble a little bit when you walk away. 

You’re entirely uncertain that you manage to say bye to everyone there, and when Osamu hugs you tight and kisses the top of your head, he mumbles to you quietly.

“Whatever you get up to tonight, I don’t want to hear about it tomorrow.”

“What?” You laugh, your face warm with nerves when you spot Suna near the door. “Why?”

“Because in no life do I want to know what that look in your eye is about.” Osamu releases you, and you wave at Yachi, smiling sheepishly when Osamu calls out a teasing ‘ Have fun ’. 

You all but run over to Suna, your heart leaping when he reaches a hand out to you. You take it, leaning up against him and breathing out an embarrassed admission.

“I don’t think I was good at wiping the look off my face.”

He purses his lips, trying not to smile as he walks you out to the parking lot. “Then I guess you’ll just have to wait ‘til we get home.”

“No,” You whine. “Really?”

He smiles wide then. “Yes, really. I can’t have anyone catching us, can I?” He helps you into his car, buckling you in while you stare up at him, heartbroken. “Then they’ll know how good my girl is, and that’s supposed to be between us, right?”

You swallow, pressing your thighs together and nodding. “Yeah. Between us.” 

He glances down at your thighs with a smirk and then closes the passenger door, coming around to the driver’s side.

“Can you keep your hands to yourself until we get back?” He asks, starting the car.

You watch his ringed hand settle comfortably on the gear shift, the bracelet you’d gifted him hanging loosely from his wrist. You very urgently need that bracelet pressed between your thighs, like it had been that first night.

“Not sure.”

He laughs. “Do your best, baby. We’ll be home soon.”

He’s true to his word, his apartment complex appearing after only ten minutes, but by that point, you’re squirming in the seat beside him. Suna pretends to laugh, but you can see his hand flex on the gear shift and the flick of his gaze to your thighs as he’s pulling into the parking lot. He carts you up to his apartment with an urgency you’ve only seen in situations just like this, where he’s all but dragging you into the elevator. 

And when he shoves you to your knees at the foot of his bed, you know you’re in for quite the night. 

You look up at him, hands on his thighs, and wait.

He tilts your chin up, keeping your eyes on his, and smiles.

“Pretty.” 

You smile back nervously. “Yeah?” 

His fingers curl into your hair and cup the back of your head. It starts off gentle, but you feel the tension of his hold on your head, and you realize you’re being restrained.

“Want me to show you how pretty?” 

You try to nod, but his grip is tight. “Yes, please.”

Suna pulls his lip ring between his teeth, tugging as he stares down at you. He laughs almost nervously, despite showing no sign of loosening his grip.

“God, I really am a bad friend for imagining this so much.” 

You shift, your panties uncomfortably wet. “You’re only a bad friend for not telling me anything until now.” You reach for his belt, undoing it. “Making me wait all this time is unfair.”

He sighs when you tug on the zipper of his jeans and pull them down to his thighs, freeing him. You take his cock in your hand, stroking him slowly. 

He groans, tightening his grip in your hair. “You’re right,” He says breathlessly. “I coulda had you this whole time.” 

You squirm, sliding your palm against him and feeling when he grows harder. “You have me now.”

He guides his cock to your mouth, resting the head of it on your bottom lip. His eyes flick between your mouth and your eyes, his fingers painfully tight in your hair. He breathes out a question just as you’re parting your lips. 

“ Do I? ” 

You let your jaw drop open in response, your tongue passing along the underside of him. He shudders, and his cock twitches on your tongue. You feel his grip on your hair loosen in his distracted state, and you use the chance to dip your head, taking him into your mouth. 

Suna moans, his head falling back when you bob your head down onto him. You wrap your hands around the part of him you can’t fit in your mouth, and the swears start to fall from his mouth.

“ Fuck ,” He breathes, followed by a groan when the tip of his cock touches the back of your throat. “Fuck, that feels good.” 

He looks down at you, his fingers finding your hair again. 

“You’re so sweet. You’re so good and sweet and perfect. You take me so well.”

You moan around him, feeling when he shivers but ignoring it in favor of dragging your tongue along the underside of his cock and then suckling on the head of it. He whispers your name, his grip tightening.

“Shit.” He swallows audibly. “Is it alright if I-?” 

You do your best to nod, stomach swooping when his fingers twist your hair into a makeshift ponytail. His bracelet knocks gently against the back of your ear, and you feel yourself start to get desperate for him.

“You ever done this before?” When you shake your head, he swears under his breath weakly. “Dig your nails into my leg if something doesn’t feel right, okay? Make sure you breathe through your nose.”

You nod, and he stares down at you for a moment. And then his grip tightens. 

The sudden push of your head down on his cock has you moaning loudly around him. He swears over you, and then he pulls you off completely to look at you.

“Good?”

You whine at the loss, wrapping your hands around him and leaning forward again. He yanks you back, forcing your eyes up to his.

“Gotta answer me first, baby.”

“Yes,” You breathe quickly. “Yes, good. All good- can I-?” You slide your fingers over the head of his cock, and he groans quietly.

When he lowers you down onto him, you get the sense he’s struggling to keep his self-control. The hand on your head is tightening to the point of pain, but you only moan through it, the tip of his cock bumping against the back of your throat once, and then again. The third is rough, his hips canting forward as his hand brings you down. 

But when you choke audibly, Suna moans your name, loud and echoing off his walls, and you resolve yourself to dragging that sound out of him every chance you get. 

You try to sink down on him yourself, but a harsh tug pulls you back.

“Whatcha doin’?” He asks, eyes hazy and breath short. “‘s my job.” 

You whimper, whispering a quiet apology and waiting.

He twists more of your hair around his fingers, holding you steady in front of him. You open your mouth and let him slide in, moaning softly when he brushes against the back of your throat.

“Promise not to move?” He asks, gaze adoring. You nod shallowly, and he smiles. “That’s my girl.”

He snaps his hips forward, and you think he sees it when your eyes roll into the back of your head.

The pace he sets reminds you of the way he’d fucked you this morning, but, as you watch him through the tears building in your eyes, you realize that this must be something he’d thought he’d never have. His eyes are squeezed shut, and your name is falling in broken whispers from his lips every time he bumps against the back of your throat. You watch him as he acts on something he’d spent a long time thinking about, and you want to give him anything he wants. 

Not too long goes by before you feel him twitch in your mouth, his cock heavier and his hips stuttering briefly when you moan around him. 

“ Fuck ,” He breathes. “I’m gonna- I should-” He starts to pull you off of him, but you scramble forward, sliding your hand up to press against his stomach. You fist his shirt in your hold, eyes pleading when you look up at him. He moans at the eye contact, grip loosening. You push down on his cock, going as far as you can, and he cups the back of your head carefully. 

“God, you’re so pretty,” He says. You suck gently on him, using your hands to coax him over the edge. “Thought about this so much. Shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t help it…” He sighs, watching you work and shivering every time your tongue drags over him. “I wanted to do something about it, wanted to make a move-”

Your eyes fly up to his, wide. His face warms under your surprise. 

“ Didn’t wanna fuck things up ,” He mumbles, fingers carding lightly into your hair. He moans quietly when you bob your head, and you feel how close he is. “ Couldn’t risk losing you. ”

Your heart sings in your chest, nerves buzzing loudly, and you use your free hand to search for his. When you find it, you intertwine your fingers with his, squeezing warmly. 

You’re distinctly aware that that’s what sends him over the edge.

His hips push forward weakly, and you hear your name being choked on as he fills your mouth. You swallow as much as you can, using your hand to stroke him until he’s done. 

After a moment, he sighs shakily.

“Shit.”

You pull off of him slowly, helping him back into his boxers. He crouches in front of you, forcing you to look at him. 

You smile sleepily, your throat a bit achy as you whisper to him. “ Hi. ”

He leans forward, kissing you hard. “ Thank you for letting me do that ,” He whispers back, mouth warm on yours.

“ Thank you for doing that. ” You giggle when he wraps his arms around you and hoists you up. You cling, face buried in his shirt, as he moves you both onto his bed, your dress riding up and bunching around your waist.

Suna all but rips your panties off of you, spreading your thighs and kissing the inside of your knee.

“I really wanna fuck you while you’re wearing this-” He nips at the soft flesh of your thigh, kissing each thigh and making his way slowly toward your core. “But I wanna do this more right now.” His eyes flick to yours. “You’ll wear this again, though, right?” 

You warm, nervous. “Maybe?”

“No ‘ maybe ’.” He sucks a mark into your inner thigh. “You’ll wear it again.” 

“Okay.”

“Good,” He smiles, examining the bruise he’s leaving on your skin. “Then – for now – this is what I want.” 

You shudder, stomach fluttering with anxiety when you see where he’s headed. “No one’s ever…” 

He meets your eyes again, smile dropping a bit. “What?”

You just look away, tugging your dress down a little. “No one wanted to.”

“...You asked them to?”

“Only the first couple times.” You shrug, embarrassed. “Wasn’t worth it after that.”

The silence that stretches between you reminds you of the day you asked to kiss him. His hold on your thighs tightens, and you can see he’s a bit annoyed. “Ask me.” 

Your heart skips, and you’re squirming under him. “I dunno-”

There’s a hand on your face, and you realize you’ve grown quite fond of him squeezing you like this.

“Ask me.” He lifts a brow, daring you not to.

You look away, murmuring through his hold. “ Will you go down on me? ” 

He releases you, staring with warmth. 

There’s something in it that looks like more than you’ve allowed yourself to hope for. 

“I would be honored.” 

You laugh when he pushes his face against your thigh, breathing you in and biting softly on your skin. “You’re so fucking corny.” 

“You deserve at least that much,” He says plainly, biting and nipping and sucking spots into your thighs, his tongue soothing each one along the way. “That’s the only time you’ll ever have to ask me.” 

You smile and card your fingers through his hair, shivering when his breath fans out over your core. “What did you mean earlier?” When he glances up at you through his eyelashes, your stomach lurches in anticipation. “When you talked about making a move.”

Suna presses a kiss to your navel and then to the crease of your hips, his hands keeping your legs open for him. “Didn’t want to scare you off and fuck everything up.”

“But you seemed completely fine with us doing this a few weeks ago. When I said I didn’t want to ruin us.”

“A few weeks ago-” He kisses the very edges of your inner thighs, and you know he can already feel how wet you are. “-the only way things could change was if you fell for me, or if you found someone else and we went back to being friends.”

He lifts his gaze as he hooks your thighs over his shoulders, speaking clearly when he looks you in the eye.

“At the time, I was okay with that second option.”

Your nerves burst under your skin, his words flying around your head and making it entirely impossible for you to notice when he drops his head and presses the flat of his tongue to your core.

Your back arches, a gasp ripped out of you as your hands fly to his hair. “ Rin -”

He drags his tongue along your folds, searing hot when it slides against your clit. “I was okay with this ending,” He mumbles, the vibration of his words making you squirm. “I thought I was over you, like an idiot.”

He laughs, and you hide your face in one of your hands. It’s cruel to make you go through this right now . To make you helpless and desperate for him in a million different ways, only to drop this bomb of an admission on you.

How are you supposed to not fall for him when he says and does everything that makes you think it’s okay?

Suna nips gently into your skin, his tongue wildly distracting while you try to process.

“I thought I was over you, but I was so fucking okay with you falling for me,” He breathes the words onto your burning skin, laughing quietly when you squirm. “It was so obvious, and I didn’t notice.”

“Rin,” You whine, pushing your hips up carefully and moaning when he grips you tight and pulls you against his mouth. “Please don’t tease me. I won’t be able to let you go.”

“Baby,” He says it so naturally and with a lilt of humor, like he thinks you’re not listening to him, that your breath comes out sharp and whiny. “Haven’t you been listening? I was only okay with breaking things off when we first started. Don’t you know how long it’s been since then?”

He dips his head and drags his tongue over your clit, latching on afterward and suckling gently. You cry his name and squeeze your thighs. He holds onto them and buries his face deeper, moaning against your core. You barely hear when he speaks, your ears ringing.

“I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you.” 

You find yourself gasping for air, your heart pounding almost painfully in your throat.

“ Rin- ”

“ Tell me you’re mine. ” 

Electricity flies down your spine, but Suna keeps you held down when your body bows off of his mattress.

“‘m yours-”

“Again.” He tortures you like that, bullying you to the edge while making you work for it, your pleas desperate.

“‘m yours, ‘m yours – please, Rin, please-”

“ Again. ”

“ I’m yours, Rin, I’m yours -” You all but scream it, your words echoing long after you say it.

He rewards you now, sucking hard on your clit and then dragging his tongue over it.

You fall, and you know that it’s permanent. 

When you eventually come down – seconds or minutes or hours later, you don’t know – you almost miss when Suna pushes his lips against your inner thigh and breathes a response.

“ And I’m yours. ”

shhh baby, mommy’s cooking on docs

---

HELLO😭😭😭 WHAT IS THIS OMG IM CRYING

Camp Rock x Criminal Minds

THIS SCENE HAS NEVER FAILED TO MAKE ME LAUGH VIEHIFIOFV I CANNOT

Petrichor [6]

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

Words: 17,546 (next chapter is at most 10k i promise lol) 

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, angst, canon violence, blood, bruises, mentions of nightmares, ptsd, jason is a little bit of an asshole, mentions of being tortured, mentions of the roof scene, mentions of being kidnapped, yes i did put an utrh reference in here, i eventually fix things with bruce later

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

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

A/N: I tried to cut out some scenes from this chapter so I'm sorry lol but everything comes back at some point so it's important. I'm super excited for next chapter lol Also idk if you guys look at my chapter titles but sometimes, 2 chapter titles go together and this is one of those cases and I am so sorry lol It's from the song Destroy Me by PALESKIN if you were curious lol I hope you guys like it!! If you want context from book 1, let me know and I’ll tell you!! You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

By the time the next day comes, Jason and you are nearly as happy as you’ve ever been with each other. Finally, after everything that’s happened and after all these months, you have both the confirmation in your feelings. You have each other, wholly and solely. You are each other's and neither of you could possibly be happier. And for the first time, you're both doing your absolute best to ignore the anxiety that comes with that. For each other.

You both try to ignore the fear of one of you dying, or dying for each other. The fear of one of you leaving or giving up or pushing or running. For the first time, you both are finding it in yourselves to ignore those feelings because you are with the person you both trust the absolute most. And you both know, the other person deserves for you to suck up the fear and the anxiety and make a solid effort in not freaking out. Despite everything you’ve both ever known and been taught, you’re choosing each other and choosing to trust each other to always be by your sides. And you both are so happy. It’s practically euphoric.

“Good luck, Jay.” You offer Jason a sweet and gentle smile as you stand outside of Bruce’s car in front of a large house.

He is not thrilled about this. He’s done it before, several times. It’s exhausting seeing a new shrink, again, and having to tell the same damn stories over and over again. He gets the same diagnoses and that's the end of it. It never really helps. He’s left with another person knowing more about him than he would ever really like. It’s exhausting but it’s this or he’s not Robin anymore. Jason doesn’t give up that easily.

“Yeah.” Jason scoffs, looking to his shoes and back to you. “Thanks.”

“You’ll be fine and it’ll help.” Your smile grows as you pick his hand up in yours.

“We’ll see.” Jason chuckles softly. “Be here when I’m done?” Jason asks with the raise of his brows, hopeful.

In all honesty, you're masking this a bit more tolerable. You promised you’d always come with to drop him off and pick him up. Bruce doesn’t exactly trust you to drop him off. He thinks maybe you’ll ditch the appointments. So, you promise to come with and if you have to spend an hour with Bruce, you’ll do it for him. And he can then bitch to you all he wants about how the shrink doesn’t know shit and Bruce is ridiculous for making him do it. As long as he goes, you’ll be there. Before and after.

“Of course.” You chime, closing the distance between you and capturing his lips in a tender kiss.

“Would rather keep doing this.” Jason mutters against your lips as he snakes his hands onto your waist.

“Too bad.” You kiss him again. “Your mental state comes first, Jaybird.”

Jason chuckles against your lips. “Yeah, alright, princess.”

You laugh softly. “Okay, get in there before you’re late.” You pull away and your smile is gentle. “I love you.” You beam, smiling with full teeth and your eyes are brighter than Jason has ever seen before.

“Love you, too.” Jason chuckles as the fluttering of his heart nearly sends him into cardiac arrest.

You watch Jason walk up the driveway and to the front door before he knocks. You watch and wait until a woman greets him and allows him into her home. A part of you thought maybe he’d try to bail out of it. Actually make a solid effort to anyway. You almost expected him to walk up the driveway and then sprint behind the house and take off, leaving you and Bruce to chase after him. But there he is, going into a therapist’s house on his own and you're happy for him. Relieved.

You don’t always think therapy will help but nothing else is helping him and at the end of the day, he needs help even if he wants to insist he’s fine. Everyone else around him knows he’s not. The limp isn’t because he’s still hurt. You know Bruce well enough to know he would have Jason checked out by a doctor to verify he was fine. It’s in his head which makes it all feel the same as if there were something physically wrong with him. He needs help. And he thinks no one notices his hands and the terrified expression after a nightmare. He can’t work through all his problems alone and he never should have had to. And you're proud of him for doing it even if he’s only doing it so he can be Robin. The point is that he’s going.

“What do we do now?” You ask Bruce as you get back into the front seat.

Bruce almost laughs. You and Jason have been beating around the damn bush since you showed up and you're finally doing something about it. Of course, never mentioning what that thing is to him and he finds the whole exchange a little amusing. Bruce has never told anyone, but Jason has always reminded him a little bit of himself. But, Jason is his son and you clearly make him happy.

“We could grab lunch while we wait.” Bruce offers.

“That’s fine.” You offer Bruce a soft smile.

Your issues remain with him. A part of you thinks Jason’s problem is still Bruce. Bruce was a lot of Dick’s issue. Had Bruce gotten Dick into therapy instead of giving him a mask and a cape, maybe Jericho wouldn’t have died because Dick would have been able to handle his problems better. Or, at the very least, maybe Dick could have handled that entire situation better and it wouldn’t have led Jason and you after Dr, Light. Maybe it wouldn’t have led Jason to the roof that day. Dick is an adult who can handle his own problems, but he was just a kid who was never taught how and you think the same is said for Jason.

Jason’s case is a little different. He wasn’t thirteen when Bruce took him in. But, maybe Bruce still could have done better. You do, however, admire the fact he’s trying now and maybe that’s what matters. He’s here now and trying and doing the one thing that might actually help. Forcing him to get help before he’s Robin again. You will never admit that to anyone though. So, you just go along with him for lunch and try your best.

After lunch, Bruce and you head back to pick up Jason. He’s not feeling great after the therapy session. He was never one that liked it very much. He was tossed around between therapists and psychiatrists while he was in the system. It was always repeating the same story over and over again, none of them offering anything that ever really helped. It was always more a state requirement and not because anyone actually gave a shit where his mental health stood. This therapist seems different than the others but like with everyone, Jason isn’t sure he trusts her. He gave her the same spiel about his parents and asked about her because that seemed easier than the same old boring story. But, she at least communicated with him and that part was at least nice.

“So, how did it go?” You ask once you're back at the manor in your room and away from Bruce. “You don’t have to tell me what you talked about or anything. Just asking how it went.” You shrug with ease.

“Fine, I guess.” Jason shrugs his shoulders as he stands near your fireplace. “Still not fucking happy about it.” A chuckle leaves his lips.

“Figured.” You match the chuckle, leaning back onto your hands, the bed soft under your palms. “When do you go again?”

“Next week.” Jason scoffs.

“Well, I’ll be there for you.” You smile softly at him and Jason thinks that’s the only upside. At least you’ll be there before and after.

“Yeah, thanks.” Jason lets out a breath. “Okay, well fuck that shit.” He approaches you, his eyes narrowing slightly as a smirk splits his lips. “Get ready. We’ve got a date to have.” He leans down, resting his hands on either side of you.

He’s tired of talking. He doesn’t want to talk about it. He’s going to do everything in his power to avoid it today. It’s too heavy and he wants today to be perfect. It’s your first date. Officially, as a couple.

“Oh, we’re going soon?” You perk up as your stomach swirls. This is real. It’s happening.

“Hell yeah. Got a whole fucking night planned, babe.” His voice is low and the way he smiles like this, the light hits his canines just right and it looks like he has small fangs. He’s so endearing.

“What are we doing?” You beam with excitement as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“You’ll see. Go get ready.” Jason urges, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Okay, Jay.” You peck his lips before Jason pulls up and lets you out of his grasp.

You get up and go to get ready. And Jason starts to feel nervous.

Technically, him and Rose never went on an official date. They mostly ran around Gotham, doing busts and then spent more of their time hiding out in someone’s house. There were no official dates. And come to think of it, Jason doesn’t think he’s ever done this before and he’s thinking maybe he went a little overboard with what he has planned. But he knows you better than anyone and he knows what you like. But then he comes back to realizing maybe he doesn’t know what you would like in forms of a date, it might be different than your usual thing. He’s just hoping he doesn’t royally fuck this up like he tends to have a habit of doing.

You meet Jason back in his room. You don't do much with your hair or your makeup, keeping both mostly the same as usual but you wear one of your nicer jackets. And even then, he swears you look beautiful. He smiles softly at you. He’s so in love with you and he really hopes you like the date.

He walks up to you and takes your hand in his. He hopes you don’t notice his hands are cold and clammy. You do but you think it’s cute. Jason nervous is not something that happens very often but the idea of him being nervous for your date, makes your head swim and your bones vibrate. He’s so cute.

The two of you head off on Jason’s bike, arriving at a movie theater in the city. Jason takes you to see a movie you mentioned wanting to see. It’s simple but it’s something he knows you really like movies. And he’s not one for big fancy dates. This is simple and it’s you. You find the gesture adorable because you don’t like the idea of a fancy restaurant either. This is kind of your thing. You’d go with a group sometimes, sure, but it’s your way of showing him how much you care. Showing him your things and movies is one of those things. And you adore him for it.

After the movie, you head back to the manor where Jason has insisted the date isn’t over yet. While he’s not one for something fancy, he is one for making an effort. Words are hard, they always have been and he knows sometimes he’s never going to be able to tell you exactly what you mean to him. But, for your first date, he can make as big of an effort as he can to show it. Even though you don’t need him to. You already know.

“Okay, keep your eyes closed.” Jason states as you both stand in the main living room, his hand intertwined with yours.

“If you walk me into a door, Jason--”

“I won’t!” Jason laughs. “Do you trust me?” He asks and it’s a little sarcastic and cocky.

“Yes.” You mock, keeping your eyes closed but you want to roll your eyes at him.

“Okay, so trust me.” Jason states as he leads you through the kitchen and into the courtyard.

He looks around, letting out a breath and he definitely owes Molly and Bruce for this one. Though, he thinks they’ll be giving him enough shit that maybe he won’t have to.

“Okay, you can open.” Jason nearly holds his breath as you open your eyes to see the backyard.

There’s a projection screen in the grass with a projector on one of the outdoor tables. Blankets and pillows cover the grass in front of the screen. The tables are lined with a variety of snacks, all of them being your favorite. And there are fairy lights decorating the rest of the courtyard.

Jason remembers what you said about that scene in Tangled, with the lanterns. Fairy lights aren’t lanterns, but they give somewhat of the same effect. So, he took inspiration from it. Because maybe, Jason’s a little bit of a hopeless romantic underneath the trauma. And he’d do anything for you. Cliche and cheesy and all.

“You--how?” You look over at him, eyes wide and a smile tugging at your lips. A lump forms in your throat as your entire chest nearly combusts into flames.

“I asked Molly and Bruce for help while we saw the movie.” Jason grins at you. “You didn’t really think we were just watching a movie for our first date, did you?” Jason quips, hiding his nervousness under his cocky grin.

“You asked for help?” You ask and you're not sure what’s more surprising. The courtyard or Jason asking for help. “I actually knew we’d go see a movie but this? Wow.” You look around, your voice soft and tender.

“Yeah.” Jason scoffs. “Look, you deserve it and you liked that scene in Tangled so. I needed some help while I distracted you.”

You swear it’s perfect because at the end of the night, it’s just him and you. It’s him and you in the courtyard watching your favorite movies. It’s him and you when it matters. He’s thoughtful and caring and kind and loving. Jason has only ever known pain and neglect but when it comes to you, he manages to show love and tenderness. You don’t really understand how he manages it but you're eternally grateful for this boy with dark hair and green eyes.

“It’s beautiful.” You say softly. “Thanks, Jay.”

“You like it?” Jason asks, stuffing his hands into his front pockets, something you've picked up he does when he’s nervous.

“Yes, of course!” You beam. You let go of his hand and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him for a deep kiss. His hands meet your hips as if on instinct, giving a light squeeze.“What’re we watching?” You ask against his lips.

Jason pulls away and there’s a grin of pride and confidence this time. “I’ve got Ready Or Not lined up since we didn’t get a chance to see it before it left theaters and Little Women. I read the book and the trailer seemed good. I think you’ll like it.” Jason states as he squeezes your hips again.

“Do you really remember everything I tell you? And I did want to see Little Women, just didn’t think you’d be into it.” You chuckle softly.

“Yeah,” Jason’s chuckle is gentle this time, bashful even. “It’s important to you.” He rolls his shoulders. “See, I know you.” Jason grins at you, wiggling his brows.

“Yeah, you do.” You scrunch your nose before pressing another kiss to his lips and dropping your arms from him. You head over to the snacks. “This is really nice, Jay.” Your smile is gentle and you love him with every fiber of your existence. “Thank you.”

“You deserve it.” Jason holds his head with pride, joining you to grab snacks.

“I get to plan the next date.” You offer him a devious smirk.

“Now, that’s unsettling.” Jason teases. “But fine.”

The two of you grab your snacks and head off to the blankets and pillows that are laid out for you before Jason starts the first movie. The two of you cuddle up with each other, attention mixing between the movie and each other. Your legs are rested over him as his arm is behind you and you just exist together.

To love, wholly and honestly, is terrifying because of the pain that seems to be intertwined with love. To love is to be brave and honest and optimistic. To love is something powerful but, to be loved back, that’s the greatest feeling in the world.

It’s the acceptance and understanding that comes with being loved back. It’s being loved for every broken piece and every bad, ugly, and terrible moment that comes. It’s knowing there will be bad days and hard days where the world seems to want to destroy every happy and peaceful moment, but choosing that person anyway. Falling in love is accidental, but staying in love is done on purpose. And that is why it’s so indescribable and remarkable and powerful. It is choosing to love and be loved back, risking the pain. And at the end, it’s worth it.

For Jason. And for you.

Over the next few days, everyone gets the news you and Jason have finally made things official. Gar and Kory actually kind of figured you were together. It was more of an inside joke with the Titans back in San Francisco. How long it was going to be before the two of you realized you were actually dating. Gar won. Dick wasn’t in on it (mostly because he thought you were friends this whole time who were just too oblivious and stubborn to say anything). So, they’re all happy to see the two of you happy together. Even Conner who didn’t really get a chance to know Jason and who only knew you for a short time.

Molly is your biggest fan though. She’s the best friend of the two of you. Her best friends are dating each other and she knows you’re both stubborn as hell with minimal self-preservation unless it comes to your hearts. You’ve both always been so guarded and she swears up and down, you’re supposed to be together. You’re the most guarded people she’s ever met and yet, the two of you manage to open up to each other. She swears you’re meant for each other. 

Today, Jason goes out with Molly while you hang back at the manor to have a training session with Bruce and a marathon with Gar afterward. The training session is fine but it's definitely not as fun without Jason. So, you're relieved when you can just sit down and have your marathon with Gar, filling him in a little bit on you and Jason. He's really happy for you both and it means a lot to you. He's your best friend.

But, with the marathon underway, it’s interrupted as Bruce walks into the living room.

“Excuse me.” Bruce calls from the doorway, pulling your attention away from the show and Gar.

“Is that Bruce Wayne?” Gar beams.

“Yes.” You furrow your brows at the screen before looking back at Bruce. “Oh, did you need the living room? I can move to my room.”

“No, no.” Bruce shakes his head. “You're fine in here. I was wondering if I could speak to you, however.”

“Uh…” You look back to your screen. “We’re…we’re kind of watching something, can we talk later or do you need to talk now?” You don’t know why he didn’t just talk to you earlier.

“I would like to talk now before Jason gets home.” Bruce states.

“Oh…” You widen your eyes before looking at the screen. “Pause it and I’ll call you back when we’re done?”

“Yeah, yeah of course. Hey, Bruce.” Gar chimes.

“Hello, Garfield.” Bruce chuckles slightly as he walks further into the living room.

“Okay, I’ll call you soon. Don’t continue without me.” You warn with a fake glare that turns into a cheeky smile before you end the call.

Bruce takes a seat at the armchair beside the couch and you watch him cautiously. It’s weird. You don’t really talk one-on-one and if you were being honest, you prefer it that way. You're growing to like Bruce, slowly. He doesn’t seem so bad. It’s just, every time you have that thought, you can hear Dick in the back of your head warning you. And Jason telling you about Dick taking out one of the trackers he knew about and how he shouldn’t do that because Bruce is looking out for them. And you catch yourself keeping your distance. So, you don’t normally talk like this unless you have to and it’s sending off alarms in your head.

“What’s up?” You ask slowly.

“How are you?”

You raise a brow at him. It’s weird because Bruce definitely doesn’t seem the type to be asking someone how they are. “Uh…fine. Yeah, I’m fine.” You nod at him, giving him a soft smile. “Why?” Your eyes narrow with suspicion.

“You have been through a lot. I wanted to make sure you were okay with everything that has happened.”

“Uh…yeah? Still fine, just the usual, I guess.” This is fucking weird. Even for Bruce Wayne. “Why didn’t you ask earlier?”

“We were training. I didn’t want to distract you.” Bruce sucks in a deep breath.

“Um…okay. Well, I’m fine. I’m just trying to watch some stuff with Gar.” You nod your head and he said he wants to talk before Jason gets home which means there is something about Jason he wants to talk about. “Bruce, I appreciate you checking up on me but if I’m being honest, I think you know I’m fine or that I will be and I am getting better because I know Dick and Jason filled you in. So, I think you’re asking how I am so you can ask about Jason.”

“I do want to know how you are.” Bruce defends in his usual stoic way that's somehow a little unsettling.

“Yeah, no, I mean I’m sure you care and everything. But, if what you really want to know is about Jason, you can just ask.” You let out a sigh and you can’t understand why these bird boys have to beat around the damn bush so much. “If you wanted to ask about me, it wouldn’t matter if Jason were home.” You nod your head as you scrunch your nose.

Bruce lets out something you think might be a chuckle. “Is he okay?”

You blink at him because you can’t believe he’s asking you that. Surely, he knows. That’s why he’s going to therapy because he’s not. Seriously what is it with the batboys that they can’t just talk?

“You sent him to a shrink?” You question.

“I mean,” Bruce clarifies. “Since going. He hasn’t said much to me. I want to make sure he’s okay.”

Truthfully, if Bruce actually wanted to be honest, that isn’t really why he’s asking. He sees a lot of himself in Jason. That is the problem. He doesn’t want Jason running himself into the ground over being Robin. Bruce has done that to himself too many times. He’s been thinking about it and what Jason means to him as a son. He’s worried about him, even with the therapy. Bruce knows you care about him. He hopes that’s enough for you to give him some insight

“Why?” You ask slowly as you narrow your eyes.

“He’s my son and I’m worried about him.” Bruce answers candidly.

“Yeah, no, I mean why are you asking me?” You shake your head, a snip your voice. It’s not your job to communicate for the two of them. They’re adults.

“I thought you might know.” Bruce nods.

“Of course, I know, I know everything about him. But you should know if he’s okay.” You widen your eyes as you furrow your brows. “He’s your son.”

Bruce lets out a sigh of defeat but you keep talking.

You have more to say. It’s not your job to communicate between the two of them but it’s clear someone needs to. You don’t care much for Bruce but Jason does. And that’s important. And he’s not okay. You think seeing Leslie will help him but, maybe telling Bruce isn’t such a bad idea. Jason needs the help and that means telling Bruce.

“Bruce, I think Jason Todd has never been okay a single day in his life.” Your voice is quiet and normally you wouldn’t be saying anything but it’s gotten to the point where you're really worried about him.

You being officially together over the last week has been absolutely incredible. You both are certainly the happiest you’ve both ever been with each other. But, Jason is derailing anyway and you always knew it would happen. Your validation for him is not what he needs. It will never be the thing that he needs because you're not Bruce and you're not Dick and that’s fine. It is never about your validation when it comes to him. His issues lie with the two of them, not you. So, Bruce making him see a therapist, is driving him a little bit insane. It’s only been a week though, so you hold out hope maybe it’ll help in the long run. But, you tell Bruce anyway because he should know. He always should have known.

Bruce nods with understanding. “He has not had an easy life.”

“Yeah, no shit.” You let out a scoff. “I think saying he hasn’t had an easy life is putting it lightly.” There’s a snark and a bite to your voice because you can just hear Dick in the back of your head.

Not to trust him. It doesn't matter that Bruce and Dick sorted out their shit. A part of him doesn’t trust Bruce and every time you think maybe, just maybe, Bruce has changed enough where Dick is wrong, he says something or does something where you know he hasn’t. This is one of those things. He shouldn’t be asking you if Jason is okay or saying he hasn’t had an easy life. It’s his literal job to know if Jason is okay and how to help him. It shouldn’t be up to you to tell him.

Bruce nods. “It’s been rough for him.”

“Ya know, it’s just….I don’t think Jason has ever felt….protected, safe, cared for….or loved in….at least most of his life. He felt, at least, most of that here and as Robin but all of that is gone and Deathstroke changed a lot of that. Bruce, he’s not okay and I am only even telling you this because I’m worried.”

Being happy in a relationship doesn’t make the pain of everything traumatic that’s happened just go away. It doesn’t work like that. It doesn’t suddenly fix and mend and cure mental illness. You wish it did but it doesn’t. Being happy and traumatized can co-exist. He is happy with you and you know that, but in the last week, he’s still waking up screaming from nightmares and he’s still limping after training. He’s still terrified. And you're endlessly worried about him.

“He can’t be Robin again, not yet. I made mistakes with Dick and I don’t want to repeat them with Jason. That’s why I want him to see Leslie.”

It’s not that you agree or disagree with it. But you do want to know why Bruce treats Jason and Dick the same way. They’re wildly different people. Maybe taking Robin from Dick and sending him to therapy would have worked, simple as that. But Jason isn’t Dick. Robin means everything to him. Why can’t he be Robin and see Leslie? Why does he have to be benched entirely instead of half the week even? It’s just not very fair to Jason, in your opinion.

“Okay, I get that, but you know Jason. He’s gonna prove to you he can be Robin.” You shake your head. “He’s going along with it for right now and maybe it’ll help. I hope it does, but what if it doesn’t?” You raise.

“We’ll have to have that conversation if we get there.”

“Okay yeah, and what you want him to just see a shrink for the next year with his fingers crossed he’s not permanently benched from the most important thing in his life? Only for something to happen and you rip it away from him entirely?”

“You believe he should be Robin at this point? You just said yourself he is not okay. It’s not safe for him to be out there. Do you think it would be safe to send him out there if he is deemed not well enough?”

It's not that. It's that you know, firsthand, that Jason will absolutely go out of his way to prove himself. You both do it. Jason isn't going to be able to stay benched for months on end. He's just not going to. And you know that. The fact Bruce doesn't when he knows why Jason wanted to go after Dr. Light, is infuriating. And it scares the hell out of you.

He's going to prove himself if Bruce doesn't give him Robin back eventually. One day, Jason is gonna think he's had enough and he just needs to prove himself and he'll try. The last time that happened, you both were kidnapped, tortured, and dropped from a skyscraper. And that is lucky. Somehow, that was actually lucky because you both made it out alive. What happens if he doesn't get so lucky next time?

“Whatever I think about him being Robin is completely irrelevant. It’s not my place to have an opinion. It is yours but…I’m just saying, he’s gonna prove to you he can be Robin eventually. He’ll get bored and tired of waiting.” You state. “He did in San Francisco.” You shake your head. “He’s gonna get himself killed one day if he does that, to prove you wrong.”

With Robin off the table, the training sessions have gotten…a little nuts. He’s rougher than usual and you can handle it just fine, he's not out of control. But he’s more relentless. He’s training himself into the ground again. He just wants to prove to Bruce that not only is he capable, but he’s better than Dick ever could be. Without even realizing it, Bruce doing this and the way he treated Dick, he’s pitting them against each other. And Jason is set on proving to Bruce he’s fine. No matter the cost.

“He won’t do that. He knows the rules. If I tell him not to go—“

“Dude, seriously? We knew the rules in San Francisco, too and then we went anyway. Jason is your responsibility and you have to do something, I can do everything I can but it’s not gonna be enough.” You stress because even when you have hope that therapy is gonna help over time, you aren’t sure if Jason is actually going to put in the time to let it work. And you're worried what will happen if he quits.

“I can’t let him be Robin and let him get killed out there. You said yourself, he will get killed out there. I made mistakes in the past, I cannot repeat them.”

A part of you want to blow. You were always right about him. He wouldn’t have to worry so damn much if he would stop recruiting kids to be fucking Robin. He wouldn’t have to worry so much if he would stop weaponizing their grief. He turned Jason and Dick into weapons and he’s, somehow, the one paying the consequences of that. You think the whole thing is ridiculous. It’s like he doesn’t see what he’s done to either of them and how fucked up this whole thing is. But, that’s not your place to tell him off about him recruiting people. For Jason’s sake. So, you decide you're gonna fall back on your usual reasoning for having a distaste towards him.

“Okay, you know what, you wouldn’t have to worry so fucking much if you’d just kill those fucks. Like, you know that right?” You snip.

“We do not kill people.” Bruce’s jaw squares just slightly. “We talked about this. Once you kill one person, it gets easier to kill the next until the lines blur. We cannot be the ones deciding who lives and who dies.”

You let out a scoff followed by a hollowed laugh. “And at what point is that not good enough?” You grit your teeth. “How many times have you captured the Joker?”

Bruce knows the number but he won’t say. “Several. I always catch him.”

“And every time Joker escapes, he kills at least one person. So, if over the last 10 years, you got more than 10 people killed by letting the Joker roam around and one of those people were my mom.” A lump forms in your throat with the mention of your mom. It’s some sick joke him and the Joker like to play almost. It’s like a damn game of chicken in the worst fucking way. “You let the Joker kill my mom. I’m not talking about Penguin or Scarecrow, I’m talking about killing the Joker. He puts bombs in buildings for fun. He’s killed thousands of people since I’ve been alive. You could have saved those innocent people if you would have just killed the Joker.” You shake your head. “And he’s the main one you’re worried about, right? He just escaped Arkham again, right?”

You shake your head and this whole thing is insane. It’s not even that you expect Bruce to toss his morals out the window. But you think it’s something he should consider if he's so damn worried about it. Deathstroke was different. He was the best mercenary in the world. You and Jason never stood a chance but the fuckeads here? Bruce’s usuals, they aren’t much concern besides one. And you know it. That’s why you’re having this talk right now.

“It’s the Joker. We literally laughed in Penguin’s face. Mr. Freeze, Bane, Scarecrow, and Mad Hatter are all locked up. Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy aren’t even a concern. The Riddler doesn’t kill people. I know you are not worried about fucking Condiment Man or Kite Man. I can keep going. But it always comes back to the Joker being the main concern, if Jason fucks up out there with him, that's it. Right?”

Bruce gains a scowl. He doesn’t appreciate you calling him out. You aren’t right but you aren’t wrong either. “It is not just about the Joker. And I cannot cross that line.” Bruce states firmly. “You should know that. You cannot cross that line either. The Joker is still a person and I will not determine if he gets to live or die. That is not how this works.”

“And what are you gonna do when he kills Jason? Or Dick? Or the next Robin? It’s gonna happen, it will. He’ll kill one of them eventually and then it’ll be too late.”

“I will not kill him for a what if situation.” Bruce lets out a sigh and this is not where he thought this conversation was going to go. A part of him thinks there’s a chance you're doing this on purpose to avoid telling him more about Jason. You're good at deflecting and not just when it’s about yourself. “That is not justice.”

“Then the guilt will eat you alive when it happens and then I’ll find a way, myself, to kill whoever kills him. Joker’s death is inevitable regardless and you could prevent the death of your sons.” You shake your head and get up from your spot, grabbing the tablet from the table. “I respect what you try to do as Batman and taking in Dick and Jason. I think that’s admirable. But, I think everyone has morals and sometimes you have to toss your morals aside for the greater good.”

“Even if that means someone has to die?”

“The Joker is a homicidal psychopathic sadist…so yeah. I don’t narc, I don’t tell anyone what happens with me and Jason, ever. But I’m telling you that he is not okay. Putting my morals aside because I care about him. I know you do, too, but you need to figure out how to get that through his thick skull or let him be Robin. It’s that simple. Always has been. Always will be.” You end the conversation, heading back to your room because that conversation was going nowhere and it never will.

You feel your blood boil and there is just something about Bruce sometimes. You don’t see it. You don’t see why Jason looks up to him so much. Maybe it’s just because Bruce saved him. Maybe some part of Jason is so hung up on that that he can’t see through Bruce’s other bullshit. But it irks you anyway, even when Bruce is genuinely trying to be better with him.

You just find the whole thing real rich. If he didn’t want to watch his kids die, he shouldn’t have offered them the vigilante lifestyle from the beginning. Maybe they both would have ended up here anyway. They both like to help people and that can’t be just a Bruce thing. But, maybe it would have been safer.

Maybe had Bruce offered therapy from the start, it would have been better or if he could just have a damn conversation with them. Literally, anything could work besides what he’s doing now. Training them to be brainwashed, taking them out to the cabin, training their bodies into a world of pain. Manipulating them with the idea of being invincible because of a mask and a cape. Anything has to be better than that.

And you feel like you can’t even tell Jason about it because he’ll get mad and annoyed further with Bruce. He’ll be annoyed he went to you to talk. And you know him, you just know he’ll think it’s because Bruce doesn’t think he’s good enough and you can’t let him think that about himself. And it is not your place to complain about his adoptive father. So, you keep it to yourself as you grind your teeth and call Gar back.

You pretend everything is fine as you and Gar continue your marathon until Jason gets home a few hours later.

“Hello, beautiful.” Jason chimes as he stands in the doorway of your room.

You look over with burning cheeks. He looks happy right now. So, you smile back, pretend like you aren’t still annoyed with Bruce. The call with Gar helped but then he had to go and the annoyance flooded you once more.

“Jaybird.” You say with ease as Jason walks into your room, tossing his jacket onto the end of your bed.

“How’s Gar?” He presses a kiss to your forehead before sitting down beside you.

“Good.” You answer simply as you suck in a breath. “He, uh, he misses us and Rachel but he said he’s good. He really likes being a Titan, you know Gar.” You laugh softly.

“He could come visit.” Jason chuckles softly.

He misses him, too. They lived down the hall from each other for four months and went through some crazy shit together. They’re best friends. Jason thinks it’d be cool to have Gar come. He could show him the Batcave.

“That’s what I said.” You widen your eyes. “He said he’d ask Dick about it.”

“Cool.” Jason laughs softly.

“Yeah.” You let out a breath as you look back to the tablet.

Jason watches you carefully and he knows you. Something’s off. You usually have more to say. You usually ask about Molly or whatever Jason is up to when he comes back home. You didn’t this time and you look like you're not really here with him. Your eyes are distant. The corners don’t crinkle when you laugh. Your jaw is clenching and you didn’t even mention what you and Gar watched.

“You going out tonight?” He asks and his words are a little flat.

He doesn’t mean for them to be. But, it’s sore. You still go out with Bruce. You asked him what you should do because you didn’t want to overstep. Going out on patrol with Bruce is Jason’s thing. But, you don’t really want to give it up either. You love patrolling and the more you do it, the more you understand why Robin has become Jason’s entire world. But, if Jason asked you not to go with Bruce, you wouldn’t. You’d go on your own if you had to. But, Jason assured you it was fine even if it hurts, even if he wants to tell you to not to do it. Even if feels like you're overstepping.

You shake your head and furrow your brows, bringing your attention back to him. “No, I just wanna stay here with you tonight.” You scrunch your nose, trying not to set off Jason’s alarm bells.

You don’t want to be around Bruce. The only thing you want to do is be with Jason tonight. You love patrolling but not tonight. Not tonight when you're reminded of the cruelty you face every day and the life-or-death stakes that exist outside of this manor. Outside of this safe bubble. The conversation, knowing the Joker is out there and likely who Bruce will be trailing tonight, reminds you of what could happen out there. You know. You already know but sometimes conversations take place and it becomes real. Patrolling and fighting, that’s fun and it’s easy to forget the stakes. And while you're terrified of Jason dying, he’s not the one going out there right now. You are. What would he do if you didn’t come home?

You just want to stay here with him tonight. It’s too heavy tonight.

“What’s wrong?” Jason asks, searching your face for any indicators.

“Nothing.” You lie. “Can’t want to stay in for a night with my boyfriend?” You say it like that on purpose but Jason sees through it.

You aren’t as insistent on patrol as he is. But you haven’t missed a single night since you got the suit. You're turning it down and he doesn’t get why. There’s something wrong and he knows it. He always knows.

“I know your fucking obsessed with me,” Jason starts with a chuckle, earning himself an eye roll. “But, I know when something’s going on with you.”

“It’s nothing, Jay.” You sigh. “I just want to stay in.”

“What happened?” Jason pushes, gritting his teeth because now he’s thinking someone did something. To you.

He thinks of the conversation with Molly, how she thinks you'll run. She told him she's worried that you're gonna be the one to fuck it up, not him. And that if you do, Jason should just not let you, even if he wants to push. It's what you both do, push and run. Molly is right. It’s what you do but if you both don't want to hurt each other, you both need to find a way not to do that. So, he tries.

“Can you drop it, please? I’m fine.” You rest a hand on his cheek, offering a tender smile. “Thank you.”

“Worried about you.” Jason states.

“How the tables have turned.” You widen your eyes, dropping your hand.

“I’m fucking serious.” Jason doesn’t so much as grin at you.

He can’t lose you. He is so certain of that. He can’t lose you in any capacity. So, he pushes just as you do with him. There’s something wrong and if someone did something, to scare you out of going on patrol, he doesn’t care what Bruce says. He’ll go back out there.

“I….Bruce he talked to me about something and I just…” You grit your teeth. “I don’t want to go out tonight.” You shrug your shoulders, voice laced in annoyance.

“What did he do?” There’s a mix of anger and confusion in his voice. Jason trusts Bruce but he knows as much as you fake it, he knows you don’t.

“Nothing.” You shake your head. “Just, uh…Joker was brought up and you know. Shit sucks. So I just don’t want to go out tonight.” You bite your tongue with every worry you have because you can’t burden him with it.

You can't put worried thoughts into his head. He has enough going on. And you know that he does worry, in his own way, when you're out there. He's more subtle than you are and he's not nearly as paranoid but he loves you and wants you to be safe. It's a natural thing. You don't want to add to that burden by saying you're worried about what he'd do if you died. On top of the rest of the conversation with Bruce, it's just too much and you don't want him to deal with it. Not right now.

“Your mom?” Jason asks.

“Yeah.”

“You know you can tell me, right?” Jason questions, getting the feeling it’s more than that. When it involves your mom, you're sad and you tell him. You seem annoyed today.

“I know.” You offer a weak smile. Guilt feeling heavy in your chest. “It’s just….it’s heavy today and I’m tired of it being heavy. I’m fine though, Jaybird. Can you just…..read to me when Bruce leaves, please?”

Jason nods softly, moving closer to you. “Yeah, of course. Did you want to talk about it?” He asks before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Thanks, Jay.” You smile softly. “No, I’m okay.”

“You and me.” Jason smiles softly and he’s worried about you, too.

You rest your forehead against his shoulder. “I’m sorry, it’s just one of those days, ya know? Where it just…”

“Feels worse again.” Jason finishes.

“Yeah.” You pick your head up.

He wants to help and Bruce doesn’t leave for a few more hours. So, his solution is training. It always helps you, too anyway. He just doesn’t want you to feel the heaviness of it and if he doesn’t have to carry the weight alone, neither do you. It’s like he told you, you can put it on him. He’ll carry it for you.

“I get it.” Jason stands up abruptly. “Wanna train about it?” Jason wiggles his brows, offering you his hand.

You roll your eyes but there’s a smile tugging on your lips. He always gets it. “Yeah, I almost won yesterday.” You put your hand in his, getting to your feet.

“Maybe I let you win one round, think of that?” Jason teases.

“You wouldn’t let me win anything.” You scrunch your nose. “You’re too competitive.” You beam at him as Jason lets out a laugh and swings his arm over your shoulders.

“Guess that’s true.” He says as the two of you make your way to train.

You know you’ll tell him your concerns later and tell him about Bruce because while it might not be fair to tell him, it’s also not fair for you to hide it. He trusts you and he’s doing better about telling you everything that bothers him. You owe him the same. But right now, it's just too heavy to deal with and you just want to sit with him and forget about everything for a while.

Jason is really good about helping you forget and letting you relax so it’s easier to tell him. It's one of the many reasons you adore him and wholeheartedly love him more than anything on this planet.

After a few rounds of sparring, you having lost because Jason really can’t let you win, you move to the targets. When Jason runs out on his end, he takes a break, sitting a few feet behind you and to the right, having a drink of Gatorade.

He watches you when you train. There’s something enthralling about it. You throw the knives at the target with so little effort, Jason can’t help but stare. He remembers how bad you were at combat all those months ago. He never told you, but you were not good. It was obvious you never wanted to throw a punch, like you never hit someone before and you hadn’t. Maybe a part of him thought you might be hopeless. Even when you fought Jerry, Jason is pretty sure you only got as far as you did because he was surprised and you had a hit of adrenaline hit your system from the anger. You never stood a chance otherwise. But now, you make Jason actually put up a fight in training.

He puts in effort to make sure you don’t pin him now. You never miss a target. You're even getting over your fear of heights with having to grapple from building to building and with being on so many rooftops. You're so good at all of this now and his entire chest warms because he knows a part of that is because of him. But the other part, wants to completely shatter.

On the one hand, you never wanted to be violent. You told him that, more than once. You never wanted to be this way and now you are. It’s not his fault. He didn’t make you that way. That was Jerry, that was the Joker. But he looks at what you've become and he feels guilty anyway because he doesn’t stop you from being violent. He encourages it. And he thinks of how he was before Robin.

It wasn’t that Jason was violent. That was never it. He could pick a fight just as good as the next person. But it was out of survival. It wasn’t because he liked the bloody and bruised knuckles. Or coming back with his body covered in shades of navy and maroon and the pain that went along with it. It was how he had to survive. Fight or die. Fight or let people take advantage of him.

He was small. He got lucky he grew taller as he got older but he was a small kid. It was either learn to fight and take what he could or get taken advantage of or die trying. It was learn to fight and hold his own or deal with whatever his dad would dish out or the new guy his mom brought home that didn’t really like kids. It was never that he wanted to be violent.

He was just angry with the world. Robin gives him the outlet. Robin lets him be violent in a way that’s productive. Robin lets him choose violence. Robin lets him pick fights that matter. Robin lets him let the anger and the violent side of him be a good thing instead of something that hinders him and something people find to be annoying and a nuisance. Robin has given him so fucking much including that outlet and he can’t lose it. And he just gets so fucking mad when he thinks about it. He’s mad about it being taken away and mad at Bruce and a little mad at you for getting to use his outlet as your own, even when he knows that’s not fair.

It’s the anger that always got the best of him. Not the violence.

“Where’s your head, Jay?” You ask, looking over your shoulder from the targets as Jason sits on the floor behind you.

Jason snaps away from his thoughts, looking over to you. “What?” He furrows his brows up at you.

“You’re quiet and you’re never quiet unless something is bothering you.”

It’s only been two weeks but you know him better than anyone. It’s been rough for him not having Robin. He wasn’t Robin, technically, in San Francisco. He wasn’t supposed to be anyway. He was supposed to be taking a break but that didn’t seem to bother him as much as it does now. You’re not entirely sure what the difference is this time but whatever it is, you’ve got this feeling that there’s something more going on. Something’s poking at his head.

Jason shakes his head. “Want to get back out there.” Jason scoffs.

You nod. “Yeah…” You suck in a breath, looking at your target full of knives before you move to sit in front of him. You match his position, stretching your legs out right beside his with your hands on the floor behind you to hold your weight. “You sure it doesn’t bug you I go out?” You ask.

Of course, it bothers him. That’s his thing. But, it’s yours, too. Maybe it wouldn’t sting as much if you weren’t going out with Bruce. But, there’s nothing he can do about it and it would be wrong for him to even try. So, he bites his tongue about it.

“It’s fine, it’s your thing, too.”

You shake your head. “Yeah, but if it bothers you, I can wait until you get Robin back or I can just go out on my own.” You offer.

The first night Jason was benched, Bruce asked if you’d still join I’m for patrol. Jason assured you it was fine. So, you went and you talked later about it. He swore up and down it would be fine. You like to go out on patrol. You like to help people and who is he to try and take that away from you? You’d never do that to him.

“You think Bruce will be okay with that? You going out on your own?” Jason quips.

You grin before you let out a laugh. “Well, probably not anymore.”

Jason furrows his brows, his eyes scanning over your face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You bounce around how to tell him about your conversation with Bruce earlier without including the stuff about him. It’s hard because on the one hand, you respect Bruce but on the other, he can be a little insufferable. And Jason looks up to him for reasons you don’t really think you’ll entirely understand. It’s not your place to speak poorly of him to Jason. So, you tell him but you hope he doesn’t ask what sparked the conversation in the first place.

“We, uh, we had a moral disagreement today.” You chew the inside of your cheek as you raise your brows.

“Ah,” Jason nods his head. “That why you don’t wanna go out tonight?” The moral disagreement doesn’t surprise him. He knows how you feel about all of it but he is a little surprised you even brought up to Bruce.

“Amongst a few other things but yeah. I think he might think I’ll kill people now.” You roll your eyes.

Jason lets out a snort. “What the hell did you even say to make him think that?” Jason shakes his head. “Wait, let me guess.”

“I’m listening.” You gesture a hand for him to continue.

Jason clears his throat. “You should kill the Joker. He’s a piece of shit maniac clown who kills people for fun. He should be dead.” Jason grins at you. “Sound about right?”

“Shut the fuck up.” You groan through a laugh as you tilt your head back. “No.” You shake your head at him. “I said he was a homicidal, psychotic, sadist.” You state. “And that he should die, yes.” You mutter softly while Jason lets out a booming laugh.

He is certain you’ll never let it go which he doesn’t blame you for. He gets it. He doesn’t like his dad but a part of him still wanted to go after Two-Face. Dick went after Zucco. Parents are killed and their kids want to take revenge. But, he also knows you and he doesn’t think you’d ever actually try to kill anyone, but especially the Joker. You have more self-preservation than that.

“And he said something about we don’t cross that line or whatever?”

“Yep.” Your eyes widen as you nod your head. “Him and Dick think it’s ridiculous as if Dick didn’t feel that same way, ya know? But it’s the Joker. So, uh, I might have said his death is inevitable.” You scrunch your nose and maybe that was the wrong choice of words.

Jason eyes you carefully and there is something going on with you, too. It’s one thing to have the moral disagreement with Bruce but to actually say anyone’s death in inevitable seems a little off. Jason’s so wrapped in his own anger, he’s started to wonder if he’s missing anything with you.

“Okay seriously, what the fuck is going on?” Jason nudges your leg with his.

“Nothing. I don’t think I really meant it or anything but I kind of wonder if Bruce thinks I’m serious and thinks I’m like a ticking time bomb or something.” You roll your eyes.

“Did he take the shit from you? The suit or anything?” Jason questions and he is getting increasingly more curious what even started that whole conversation and got you mad enough to say anything to Bruce.

“No. Why?”

“Then he doesn’t think you’re gonna out and kill people.” Jason chuckles. “He’d take it away and send you to Leslie if he thought you were serious.”

“Oh, well that’s a relief.” You chuckle softly. “Still don’t wanna go out tonight though.” You shake your head.

Jason pulls his legs to his chest, resting his forearms over his knees. “What started the whole conversation anyway? Did something happen?”

You pause and you hate lying to him. It’s the one thing you really don’t do with him. But, telling him why Bruce even talked to you, that just doesn’t seem fair. You worry he might take Bruce’s concern the wrong way. Maybe it’ll send him spiraling even further. Maybe it’s best if you just keep that to yourself.

“Nothing.” You shake your head. “It’s nothing, really.” You assure him before you suck in a breath. “Seriously though, if you have a problem with me going out, you can tell me.”

The switch back the topic at hand does not go unnoticed and that’s also uncharacteristic of you lately. You tell him everything that bothers you and what leads to it bothering you.

“I said it’s fine.” Jason states. “If something’s going on with you, you’d tell me, right?” Jason questions.

You nod your head. “Of course. Nothing’s, uh, nothing’s going on. You need to stop worrying.” You offer him a cheeky grin and he knows you’re lying. “Look, Jay, if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t stand a chance out there. I know it’s hard being benched and I don’t wanna make it harder for you.”

“You said yourself, you like going out there.” Jason bites his tongue.

“Yeah, but if it weren’t for you, I’d never stand a chance. I know it’s hard for you to be benched and I go out. I don’t wanna make it harder for you.”

He knows you’re lying but he can’t figure out why you would lie to him about something like that. It doesn’t seem important or serious enough to need a lie. Maybe a part of him is even hurt you won’t tell him. But, he knows it’s not fair to push because you don’t push him when he’s adamant about not tellin you. He hopes you’ll tell him later when it’s not so fresh.

Jason scoots closer to you, resting a hand on your thigh. “I’m fine, alright? Go out kick and some ass, with or without Bruce.” Jason grins at you. “Stop worrying so much.”

“I’ll always worry, I love you.” You smile wildly at him.

“Yeah, I love you, too.” Jason chuckles softly. “I'm fine, I’ll be back out there in no time.”

“Good, miss you out there with me.”

“I got you, babe.” Jason presses a kiss to your lips. “Spar again, then dinner?”

“Yeah, okay.”

The next day, Jason and you head off the coffee shop to meet up with Molly. It’s colder than it has been. The air is crisp as you walk inside, hands in your jackets. It seems to fit the mood. Your hearts are heavy in your chests, matching your sleep-deprived eyes. Last night was bad.

And Molly is sat at your usual table with a smile.

You think this is good. Maybe hanging out with Molly, the three of you will be a good distraction for him. It’s been only been two weeks, but you know he’s already going stir-crazy. The more you think about it, you're surprised it took him three months in San Francisco to finally break the rules and go out.

“Hey.” You chime.

“Sorry, we’re late, Molly.” Jason takes his jacket off, throwing it over the back of his chair before he sits beside you.

“It’s cool, I ordered for you guys.” Molly states with ease, barely looking up from her laptop. When she does, she has a look at the two of you, Jason specifically. She glances to you before going back to Jason.

He looks more tired than usual lately. But today, he looks exhausted. The bags under his eyes are thick and his grin seems lazier than usual. And she knows you've been more tired lately, too. When you hang out, you nod off and completely space out mid-conversation. You look extra tired today as you lean your head on Jason’s shoulder.

“You look…tired. Are you sleeping?” Molly keeps her eyes on Jason.

You glance to Jason with a heavy heart, last night was rough. He woke up screaming at the top of his lungs. He got you in the face with his elbow. He sputtered apology after apology, nearly throwing himself into a guilt-ridden panic attack over it. It was fine, it was an accident. He was having a nightmare.

You eventually got him to calm down and fall back asleep but that only lasted about two hours before he woke up screaming again. This went on all night. It was bad. No, he’s not sleeping.

“Don’t worry so much.” Jason brushes it off with a smile.

It’s one thing for you to know but he doesn’t want Molly to know even if it’s written on his face that he isn’t sleeping. He still feels guilty and tired and annoyed and angry and frustrated. He swears taking Robin away has made the nightmare worse. Everything feels worse.

“We just had a late movie night.” You state.

“And what about you? You look tired, too.”

“I’m sleeping fine. Jason’s right, don’t worry so much.” You lift your head from Jason’s shoulder.

“What’re you working on?” Jason changes the subject as you lean forward, fully engaging with the topic change.

Molly let’s it rest. It seems weird but it’s the two to you. It’s always a little weird. Your sleep schedules are a mess anyway.

Molly turns the laptop around so Jason and you can see. The screen has a large picture, a missing person's flyer. The sidebar contains others with other missing kids.

“Diego from the shelter went missing.” Molly states, her voice annoyed “Rumor is, The Joker’s got a dude on the streets taking in strays. Diego’s poor and brown so you know the cops don’t give a shit.” Molly shakes her head with a scoff, taking the laptop back.

You feel your blood boiling. That’s the shit you want to do. You want to target those terrible people who are bringing in kids. Kids are innocent. The three of you at this very table were once innocent and you should have been able to stay that way. It was ripped from you and you never want another kid to deal with any of that. That dickhead, has got to fucking go. And who the hell works with the Joker anyway?

“Batman will take care of him.” Jason states, crossing his arms on the table as he leans forward slightly.

You snap your attention at him, narrowing your eyes. “Right.” You nod your head, getting a confused look from Jason.

“Batman protects rich people.” Molly closes the laptop, resting it on the seat beside her. “Be careful, Jason, living in that fake house got you slipping.” Molly crosses her arms. “Should’ve stayed in San Francisco.” There’s a slight bite to Molly’s words.

“Fuck Sam Fransciso.” Jason states. “That whole thing was a mistake. Gotham’s where I need to be.”

“You’ve been different since you’ve been back.” Molly leans forward, she glances to you who raise a brow in confusion

Jason leans back in his seat, brows knitting together. “Different how?”

“I don’t know. Like something happened over it here.” Molly looks to you.

“Nothing happened.” Jason brushes it off coolly. “I was bored, so I left.” You think that’s one way to put it.

“It was boring as shit there. It was nice, but it’s not Gotham.” You back Jason up. This whole thing would be easier if Molly knew the truth. You want to know how everyone can keep up with all the lies.

“Okay.” Molly lets out a breath, not believing either of you. Something definitely happened over there. “Look, if you don’t want to talk about it—“

Jason leans forward, not wanting to deal with the integration. “Where’s this guy who’s picking up the street kids?” There’s a grin that tugs on his lips and you know he’s about to go track the guy down. And you for one, are completely on board.

Molly looks to you who now also looks extremely engaged. She has a bad feeling but she does know. “I heard he’s hanging near a shelter on Dunsmuir.”

“Show us.” Jason states.

He’s not Robin but he still has the same abilities without the suit. He is itching to be out there doing something and Molly has a point. Bruce does look out for the rich. Kids like Diego can get left behind. This is a chance for him to do something. To prove to himself he can do it, even without the Robin suit. He can deal with a lowlife picking up street kids. He could do it in his sleep.

“Yeah, take us.” You match the grin Jason has and Molly finds the whole thing a bit unsettling.

Molly lets out a scoff as she deadpans. “Right. Cause you’re cops now.”

“I’m serious.” Jason urges. “Let’s just go see if he’s there.” Jason's grin is wild and dangerous as he looks to you.

“Come on, let’s go.” You jump in. “It won’t be so bad or anything. Especially if he’s recruiting kids.”

You're worried about Jason but you’ll be together. He’s one lowlife working for the Joker. That’s easy. Jason can just threaten him, get a picture, call it good. Neither of you can sit by and let him do this. Plus, you think Jason might need the pick-me-up.

“And then what?” Molly can’t believe the two of you. You are both completely insane.

“Take some photos. Show them to the cops. It’s worth trying.” Jason states and he’s so convincing.

“It’s better than sitting here talking about it.” You offer. “It’ll be quick anyway.”

Molly glances between the two of you and she can’t help but find some part of this amusing, you share a similar grin. Ones that got her into trouble, ones she knows means you’re both up to no good. Ones she knows she’ll regret listening to. And she knows it’s such a bad idea. You aren’t cops. You have no business finding this guy. But, she knows Diego stands no chance if you don’t at least try.

“Fine.” Molly agrees reluctantly.

You and Jason share a triumphant grin between the two of you. Jason swears this won’t be like Deathstroke. He’ll be on better alert in case there is a team this time and he knows you will, too. You’re going to find a lowlife, not a supervillain. And besides, with Molly there, him and you won’t do anything too reckless to make sure she doesn’t get caught in the crossfire. This will be fine.

The three of you make the walk toward the shelter. Small flurries fall from the sky on your walk. You look around at the snow with a soft smile. You haven’t seen snow in a year and maybe a small part of you missed it. Maybe it feels like home in a weird way.

“How’s Sheila?” You ask, walking between the two of them, your right hand tangled with Jason’s.

“Yeah, no.” Molly scoffs. “She was the wrong one. Might even date boys again.” Molly states.

You let out a laugh. “Seriously that bad? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You're going through some shit.” Molly shrugs. You and Jason have asked about her and Sheila but Molly is the observant friend. The two of you always seem like you have real shit going on. She didn’t want to bother either of you with her relationship problems when, for once, you and Jason seem happy in one. “Broke up yesterday, you didn’t miss much besides screaming and her throwing things.”

“That’s also a lovely breakup.” You give a large nod with the roll of your eyes. You never cared much for Sheila. Sheila was the jealous type.

“Yeah.” Molly scoffs. “It’s cool though.” Molly shrugs.

“Yeah, you deserve someone better anyway. Didn’t she lose her shit on you for being home like five minutes late?” Jason asks, glancing over to her.

“That should have been one of my red flags.” Molly lets out a dry laugh.

“Yeah, maybe.” You agree.

The three of you reach an alley where you see an older man sitting on the hood of his car with a girl standing in front of him who looks way too young to be around him. She has a bottle in a brown paper bag and he looks like he’s a little too friendly with her. You can’t help the way your hand squeezes Jason's as you feel the anger start to bubble in the pit of your stomach. Jason glances to you, squeezing back.

“Over there.” Molly states. “Gotta be him.”

Jason lets go of your hand and pulls out his phone, taking a picture and using the software on his phone to do a check on him. The software runs facial recognition through the system, pulling up his extensive rap sheet. You peek over at the screen, making out a few of the charges and this is the shit that pisses you off.

Why do they keep letting him out? He is very clearly a danger to the public and yet he gets to roam around free, hurting more kids. Now, he gets to work with the damn Joker of all people. He’s got to go.

“Got him?” Molly asks.

“Hold on.” Jason says as it finishes loading. “Name’s Pete Hawkins. Piece of shit’s been in and out of Blackgate. Hooked up with the Joker last year.” Jason explains.

“Another piece of shit they refuse to keep locked up because they don’t actually give a fuck about the general public.” You let out a bitter scoff, stuffing your hands in your pockets.

“How do you know that?” Molly asks, looking between the two of you.

“Told you. I’m still me.” Jason smiles cheekily at her.

“Right. That’s one of those things that sounds real cool, but doesn’t actually mean anything.”

“Means he’s got it covered and he’s good at it.” You smile softly with the shrug of your shoulders.

Jason nudges you with his shoulder. “Let’s go introduce ourselves.” Jason suggests and you knew this was gonna happen. “Just a conversation. That’s all, come on.” Jason takes a step forward as Molly looks to you for help.

“It’ll be fine,” You step forward with Jason. “We’re just gonna talk and that’ll be it. Don’t worry.” You offer a soft smile and you’ve been here before.

You're confident, similar to Jason, this won’t be Deathstroke. This isn’t Dr. Light. This is just some guy. This is your home. This is your city. It won’t be like last time. You swear it won’t be and it can’t be because you have Molly with you. You swear it but you feel the fear creep into your stomach anyway.

The three of you make your way down the alley until you reach this guy. The closer you get, you can hear some of the conversation. He gave her alcohol. And he compliments her smile and tells her he can introduce her to someone that can make her smile. You nearly gag. He doesn’t deserve to be here.

“It never works out like that.” Jason states as the three of you stand in front of them.

“Yeah, it’s all sweet talk until you’re in too deep then it’s anything but sweet.” You add in, your hands warm in your pockets.

There’s a silence that consumes all of you for a few seconds. The man eyes the three of you, not quite confused but annoyed. The girl though, she looks uneasy. She looked uneasy before you approached anyway. And this guy is just gonna let her feel that way. He was going to use it against her.

“Give us a second.” Pete states to the girl. “Keep the drink.” The girl nods her head and walks away, glancing back at all of you on her way down the alley. “We have a problem?” He asks.

“A little young for you isn’t she, hoss?” Jason questions.

Jason also can't stand people like this guy. He was a kid once. He remembers it all. No one was there to protect him and he can protect himself but what about the other kids? That's supposed to be the point of Batman and Robin. To protect those who can't protect themselves. He doesn't need the suit to threaten this guy and try to find out where, at least, Diego is.

“She’s old enough to make her own choices,” He states back.

“Yeah? And exactly how old is old enough then?” You quip back. “Cause, uh, she didn’t look old enough.”

“Do I know you?” He questions, the annoyance soaking his words.

“I’m fuck,” Jason starts. “She's off.” Jason gestures to you. “We hate clowns.”

“Clowns?” Pete asks but there’s a seriousness in his voice.

“You know the type.” You state.

Molly watches the two of you and she’s getting the idea you’ve done this before. That seems a little weird and somehow not even close to surprising. But, she can’t figure out why you would do this? In your free time. Do you and Jason just go around Gotham interrogating people?

“Maybe you ran across a kid?” Jason asks. “Diego.”

“Martinez.” Molly finishes.

Pete shifts just slightly and Jason takes that opportunity to close the distance between them, getting in his face. You watch the two of them carefully, waiting for any quick movements, waiting for the throbbing to start, so you move to stand in front of Molly. You knew it was never going to be just talking and that’s fine with you. That girl was lucky you showed up and he should know he can’t get away with what he’s doing and what he wants to do.

“You know him?” Jason asks.

“You must have me confused with someone else.” Pete says but there’s almost a mocking tone in his voice. Jason stares him down and it goes eerily silent for a few seconds. Pete doesn’t like the look and you're getting the feeling this is going to go south.“You haven’t done enough time to look at me like that.”

“You have no idea who I am.” Jason's voice is low and unwavering, despite the fear pushing at his chest and vibrating his blood like a relentless and agonizing earthquake.

Molly gets the idea this going to turn violent. He’s done time and she knows Jason can fight but maybe not him. So, she moves past you and walks forward, touching Jason’s arm to grab his attention.

“Jason, let’s get out of here.” Molly says as Jason looks at her and as soon he does, a gun cocks.

It’s fast, happening in just a second. The gun is cocked as Jason looks back to Pete who puts the gun right under his chin. He was just waiting for his opportunity. You swear under your breath because for some reason, you thought he’d be fine. He knows better.

“Where’s your swag, cowboy?” Pete asks as you quickly move to Molly, yanking her back and behind you.

Jason freezes, flashes of Deathstroke cross his eyes. The beatings, the pain in his leg is agonizing. It throbs and if he didn’t know better, he’d swear it were bleeding right here, right now. He falls again and again and again. Everything that happened flashes his eyes and he can’t breathe and he can’t move. Why can’t he move? He has no time to react before Pete smacks him across the face with the gun, sending Jason to the ground.

“Jason!” Molly screams, trying to push you to the side.

“You shut your mouth, bitch!” Pete threatens as he aims the gun at her, you keep her blocked, locking eyes with Pete with your mouth in a hard line.

Jason tries to get up but Pete kicks him in the face. Jason starts coughing up blood onto the ground. He’s weak. Why is he weak? He’s fought men three times the size with ease. But Pete kicks him and kicks him and kicks him over and over. In the stomach and the side, over and over again. Jason tries to back away but he’s on the ground and useless.

He was never like this. He was never afraid of everything. It never caused him harm before. If anything, fear managed to protect him. It has always kept him on high alert. It made sure he could be physically and emotionally safe from anyone that would hurt him. But, now, all it's doing is getting him beaten up. It's traumatizing reliving the same damn fear every single day. He's so damn tired of it. He's so sick of being weak. And scared.

Jason rolls on his side where Pete kicks him again and you've had enough. You tried to give Jason a little bit of time to get it together, hoping he'd be able to. But, you can't stand by and hope anymore. You push Molly to the side and move towards Pete.

“Hey, dickhead!” You get his attention, taking a solid swing to his face and then another. “You wanna fucking fight, let’s fucking go.” You have a wild look in your eyes as he points the gun at you, Molly rushing to check on Jason. “Aw, cute! You think I’m scared?” You taunt him, the throbbing in your head intensifies and you move out of the way just as he fires the gun. “Missed me, fuckface.”

You swore you'd never be unprepared again and you pull out a knife from your belt hidden under your coat. In a swift motion, you nail him in the leg. He yells out and shoots again, you already out of the way by the time he fires.

Jason hears the gunshots through the ringing of his ears and he'll never forgive himself if you get shot because he couldn't even get a single punch in. You shouldn't be taking him on, by yourself, just because he couldn't. Because he started it. You're here again. Jason's idea. You in the middle of it.

“What the fuck.” Pete grits his teeth as he pulls the knife out.

“I got more if that’s not enough for you.” You pull out another knife, tossing it between your fingers. “Bet I can nail your jugular in a single shot. Wanna find out?” You question. “If your gun is fully loaded, you have fourteen more shots. So, we can go fourteen more rounds if you want and then I can hit your jugular. I do love target practice.”

Pete grits his teeth, holding the wound and he’s missed two shots already. Whatever you have going on, isn't worth his time right now.

“I’ll see you around.” Pete threatens you before he walks off.

You let out a breath of relief as you rush over to the two on the ground. Jason is still coughing and trying to gain his breath. Molly’s hand is on his shoulder. You can see the bloody gash near his temple and he should have had this. Maybe it’s worse than even you thought it was.

You and Molly help him to his feet, Jason brushing the both of you off. He struggles to gain his footing, the pain in his leg is as bad as it was when Deathstroke cut out the tracker. His entire body is aching with every breath. He’s embarrassed and pissed.

“Look, you’re hurt, we need to get you to a hospital—“ Molly starts once Jason is on his feet.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” Jason says, keeping his voice level. It’s not her fault.

“Jay.” You state.

He can't. He can't do it and he doesn't want to.

“Just tell me what I can to help—“ Molly starts.

“Get the fuck away from me, okay?” Jason screams, gesturing his arm in the other direction.

He doesn’t want help. He’s tired of people offering to help. He doesn’t fucking want it. It doesn’t fucking help. Nothing is helping. It’s been months and he’s still paralyzed with fear. Every single time, it seems to be getting better, it just gets worse. He relives it over and over and over. It’s drowning him even when he knows how to swim.

Molly stands for a second, her heart aching being yelled at. Jason doesn’t yell at her. Jason never yells at her. Tears brim in her eyes. She’s just worried about him. He just had a gun pulled at him and got the shit beat out of him. It was terrifying.

You let out a breath and you can tell Molly’s never seen him like this. Of course, she hasn't because she doesn't know. She doesn't know about Robin or Deathstroke. It's one of those times you wish desperately that she did because she'd understand. But, she doesn't and she's going to be the one left confused and hurt.

“It’s okay.” You turn to Molly walking her towards the alley. “It’s fine, okay? I got him.” You nod your head with a weak smile

Molly stares at you in disbelief. You can’t be serious because you were just shot at. How is this fucking fine? Neither of you are fine and Molly is sick of you both trying to fool yourselves and her.

“What the hell was that? With you? He almost shot you!” Molly panics, looking you over just to make sure he missed.

“I’ve been shot at before, it’s fine. Just something I picked up.” Your voice shakes and that’s new.

Your hands are vibrating at your sides and you're realizing, it’s getting a little hard to breathe. But it’s the realization that you have been shot at before. You were left for dead, twice. It all comes back in a wave but you have to push through it. Molly can’t know and Jason needs you. You need to check on him. You can’t panic over it. It happened months ago. And you weren’t the one tortured and kidnapped by CADMUS. It’s not your trauma to process.

“You were what!?”

“Molly, it’s fine. He’ll be fine. Just go home.” You keep your voice calm and pleading.

“He’s hurt.” Molly urges with tears in her eyes.

“He’s fine, okay? I’ll look him over—“

“You’re not a doctor.” Molly grits her teeth.

“I know. I’ll get him to go, okay? Just, head home and I’ll call you. It’s fine. I promise.” You pull her in for a hug before walking back off to Jason who’s pacing and fuming.

Molly pauses for a second before she decides to listen. Jason and you aren’t gonna listen to her anyway.

“You, too!” Jason screams at you.

He doesn’t want your help either. He doesn’t deserve it. The cruel voices are back, louder than ever and echoing through the deepest parts of his chest. They scream and cackle, telling him over and over that he's not good enough. Anyone could have beaten that guy up. Anyone could have taken him and anyone would know he had a gun. Of course, he had a gun. But, Jason's terrified of everything. He's too scared. He's weak and useless and hopeless. 

“No!” You yell back. “I’m not fucking leaving you here like this.”

“Get away!” Jason’s voice cracks as he stands in front of you.

“No! Molly’s right. You’re hurt. We need to get back.” You urge him as you reach for his shoulders.

He can't go back. Bruce is going to be home and he's going to have questions. What if this gets him benched permanently? What if this proves Bruce right? What if Bruce gives up on him entirely?

“No fuck that shit!” Jason brushes you off and he’s so fucking sick of this shit. “Leave me alone!”

“Jason.” You grit your teeth. “What the hell is going on?” You move forward anyway and cup his face, minding the blood.

“Just leave me alone, please.” Jason pleads with you as a lump grows in his throat. He’s so fucking sick of this. He’s so exhausted from feeling this way.

“You know I won’t, Jay.” Your eyes soften as your heart breaks for him.

Jason takes your hands in his. “You fucking should. I’m fucked up. You deserve better anyway. Go the fuck home.”

He’s pushing. Your heart breaks and you're gonna keep fighting. You have a lot of regrets and one of those is not fighting for him sooner. You always should have. You're not gonna repeat that regret. So, you're gonna fight and if he wants to push, he’ll have to try a lot harder than that.

“Jason, don’t do this.” You beg him. “Come home with me, please.”

He shakes his head and he can’t. He’ll pay for it later. He knows he will. He’s gonna push as hard as he possibly can to get you away from him. He doesn’t want you near him. He’s fucked up. He’s useless and weak and a mess. You don’t deserve him. He doesn’t want you coming to his rescue. It’s not your job and it never should be. Jason has always been able to take care of himself alone. This is no different. He doesn’t want your damn help. He doesn’t want it. It’s embarrassing. Humiliating. He loves you but he's in so much pain right now he has to do the one thing he’s always been best at. Pushing.

He’ll regret it.

“No.” Jason huffs. “I’m not going fucking home!” He yells. “Get the fuck out of here. I don’t need you bailing me out! I could have fucking handled it!”

“Why are you doing this?” You ask, your voice cracking. You tug your sleeves down, Jason catching the action.

You haven’t done that in a month around him. He crumbles with the act. He knows pushing hurts you and that’s not fair just because he’s hurt. You don’t deserve it and maybe he’s right. Maybe you really do deserve better. He can’t take it back. He didn’t mean to hurt you. Not on purpose. He can’t take it back and he can’t deal with it all. He can’t deal with more guilt and pain and disappointment.

“Just leave me the fuck alone, alright?” Jason scoffs and he walks past you, knowing you’ll never leave. You don’t have it in you to walk away. So, he does.

He knows you’ll get him to break if he stays. You've always been good at getting him to calm down and be reasonable. But that’s not what he wants to be right now. He almost wants to be angry about it. He just wants to be alone, away from every person he’s disappointed and that includes you.

You watch him walk away as tears brim your eyes. You were making progress and now you’re back here. What is so different than before? You've had to bail him out before this and it wasn’t this bad. He didn’t push like this. And you realize the difference is Robin, the difference is always Robin.

At least when he was Robin, he had that to fall back on. He could chalk up his freezing to still being able to be Robin later. He’d have a second shot at it. He’d get a third shot. He was still Robin but Bruce benched him and now he’s getting his ass kicked by some nobody trafficking kids to the Joker. He has nothing left to fall back on. Every horrible thought he ever had about himself has become true today. He is useless. He is weak. He is not good enough. And you hate that he even feels that way.

But you can’t follow him because then you’ll just fight and that’s not something you want to do. He doesn’t need to feel worse over an argument with you. So, you let him walk away and you make your way down the alley.

You head back to the cafe where your bike is parked and you decide to hang out for half an hour, hoping Jason will come back. You can go back to the manor together and make sure he’s actually okay but as the time ticks by, there’s no sign of him and he’s not answering his phone. Jason is really good at pushing.

Jason looks at his phone and it's cold. It's snowing. You should just go home but he knows you're definitely still waiting for him. But, he's not even close to being ready to talk or cool down.

Jason: go home be back later I’m fine

Jason looks at his phone, watching the bubble show up. He’s still so angry with himself for all of it. He can’t even look you in the eyes right now. He doesn’t want to do anything. He just wants to be alone. But you worry. It’s been half an hour and at the very least, he can text you that he’s fine.

Y/n 😍: I don’t want to go back without you

Jason’s heart sinks as he reads the text. He hesitates over the keyboard. He almost types out “too bad” but he can't bring himself to type it out. It'll be even worse if it does.

Jason: you have to get ready for patrol tonight anyway stop worrying

Jason shuts his phone off as soon as the text sends. He simply can't. He knows he just fucked up your whole relationship. It’s been two weeks and he just fucked it all up. He’s not good enough anyway. It doesn’t matter. And yet it breaks his heart in two.

All he wants is to be Robin and be good enough again. He doesn't want to be so tired anymore. He's tired of it all. The nightmares and shaking hands. He's tired of the leg pain and the headaches and the nausea and racing heartbeat that makes him feel like he's going to pass out. He's tired of disappointing everyone and letting them down and not being good enough. He's tired of being weak. 

You let out a sigh, texting him back saying you don't have to go but the read receipt doesn't come through. You want to give him some more time to come around before you head back. So, you get on your bike and decide to head to Excellent Gotham. You always like it there anyway and it’ll be warm. And Jason knows that. If he wants to come around, he'll know where to find you.

You open the take-out container of your food once you're seated at your favorite table against the back wall. You try to eat while you scroll on your phone. Gar posted a new picture of him with Conner and Krypto at a park. Dick and Kory are seated at a picnic table behind them. A smile tugs at your lips as you double-tap the picture and pull up the comments.

You: @dickgrayson @koriandr look real cozy in the background 👀

You send the comment, mostly to harass Dick. You can’t do it in person, but you can do it through social media. It is something that can cheer you up usually. And you smile softly, remembering when Kory told you and Gar how Donna was the one that showed her how to work Instagram and helped her set up her account. You miss all of them.

@dickgrayson: we were talking?

You: wE wErE tAlKiNg 🥴

@garlogan: they’re always “talking”

You:“talking” is the first stage @dickgrayson “don’t do anything…graphic”

@garlogan: 😂🤮

@dickgrayson: NOT FUNNY

@garlogan: yes it is

You: you said it first 😂 sorry @koriandr ily 💕

You laugh softly to yourself. You'll never miss an opportunity to bug him. You scroll through a few more photos until your attention is pulled from your phone when someone sits down in front of you.

“Hey.” Tim chimes. “You here alone?”

“Uh…yeah.” You shake your head. “Why?”

Every time you come here and Tim is here, you have a conversation about anything, really. This isn’t too weird of an exchange but you find it odd anyway for him to ask.

“You never come here alone anymore. Jason and Molly are always with you.” Tim gestures with his hand. “Everything okay?”

Tim is observant. He notices and remembers everything about everything and everybody. Before you left, you’d come in alone but since you started showing up again, you're always with Molly or Jason. Tim hasn’t seen you alone at all since. He notices you tugging your sleeves down when you order and the fact you always sit with your back up against a wall, looking out over the entire restaurant, something he doesn’t ever remember you doing. You’ve had enough conversations over the years that he considers you friends, friends enough to ask anyway.

“All good.” You shrug your shoulders, brushing it off.

Tim sighs. “My dad said you seemed down.” It’s not a lie. Mr. Drake did say that but Tim noticed anyway.

You laugh softly, nodding your head. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“You sure? You can tell me if you want. I know we don’t know each other that well, but might help. Then I don’t have to run a delivery.” Tim chuckles.

He’s always so warm. You don’t think you've ever seen Tim seem down, annoyed but not down. He’s always excited to talk about whatever new thing has been picking at his mind. He was one of the people that told you he suspected there was a new Robin. Batman and the crazy maniacs of Gotham were a topic of discussion on occasion. And boy could he ramble about it. But, you always felt like you could trust him.

He doesn’t really know Jason. He kind of knows Molly but it was you and Tim that had the most conversation. He doesn’t know everything. He doesn’t know what happened to you or where you were and what happened. He doesn’t know any of it. And you find that a bit comforting. You trust him enough to at least talk a little bit because having to not tell anyone anything because everyone you know knows Jason is really difficult sometimes.

“Just, uh, some shit is going on and I, uh, can’t tell anyone about most of it.” You shake your head. “Me and Jason got into a fight and uh, I don’t know. He pushes sometimes. It’s fine, ya know? I get it but it, uh, it sucks anyway.” You chew the inside of your cheek.

Tim furrows his brows. “So, he gets mad and pushes you away? That’s not fair to you.” He lazily points a finger at you.

“Yeah, but he has shit going on.” You defend.

“That’s not an excuse.” Tim scoffs. “He seems cool. I don’t know him. I’m just saying, no one deserves to be pushed just because someone’s going through shit.”

“Well, he’s not an asshole to me. And I do the same shit so, ya know?”

“Well, I still think he shouldn’t do it." Tim states casually. "Why’s he do it anyway?“ Tim asks and you raise a brow at him. "I'm just saying, you're together so why's he still pushing you away?"

“I’m so serious, if you ever bring this up, I’ll kill you.” You threaten softly and Tim nods, gesturing for you to contiue. “Everyone gives up on him and I just…don’t? I’m like the only person who hasn’t and I’m not going to. I don’t even know why people do. He’s an ass sometimes and he’s all bark and bite. But, I don’t get it anyway, right? Because when you give a fuck about someone you don’t just give up cause shit gets hard. Or they fuck up. But it’s like he’s so damn used to it that when I simply don’t give up, he freaks out a little more when shit, like today, happens.” You state, keeping it a bit vague on the actual events.

Tim nods his head and he agrees. He believes in second chances. He doesn’t think people should just give up on people. He’s fucked up several times and his parents don’t give up on him. They were not happy about him dropping out but they’re not giving up on him. He doesn’t know what happened and he highly doubts you're gonna be less vague if he asks. But, he also knows some things you definitely don’t know he knows.

Tim knows. He knows Jason is Robin. Dick was Robin. Bruce is Batman. He knows you're Bluejay, a vigilante name the Gothamites have given you all because of your blue suit and you patrol with Batman. You do not talk about the irony in it. At least it's a little better than Acid Fingers. But, Tim is very observant. With a photographic memory.

Dick is one of two people in the world who can perform a specific flip and Robin 1.0 and Nightwing can also perform that trick which means Bruce Wayne is Batman. Jason was adopted by Bruce after Robin 1.0 left which means Jason has to be Robin 2.0, on top of the fact Tim remembers seeing videos and him and Robin 2.0 walk the same way. They share the same stride and confidence. And that’s how he figured out you're Bluejay.

The way you walk, how you hold yourself. You're living with Bruce Wayne, dating Jason Todd. It’s all pretty obvious to him in all fairness. So, he is kind of guessing whatever is going on has something to do with the vigilante life and that’s not something he can so much help with. But, he can try.

“Do you want my advice?” Tim asks.

“Sure?” You question.

“You said he pushes so, have you tried…letting him?”

“The point is that I don’t? So, I’m not like everyone else and I don't give up on people very much.”

“Yeah, but, you not letting him doesn’t work with whatever is going on, right?”

“I guess?”

“So, let him. And he’ll come back, right? Be there when he comes back. You said, it’s what he does. So, maybe you,” Tim gestures towards you as he leans back in his seat. “Being there all the time is suffocating him.” Tim states casually. “You could give him the space and when he comes around, be there like you normally would. Maybe he just needs the space, right?”

“I--” You pause and that’s kind of a good point you haven’t thought of. “I…yeah, actually that kind of makes sense. I just…worry about him. If you knew, you’d know why, ya know?”

“So, tell him you’ll give him space or whatever but he has to check in and tell you he’s fine so you’re not worried.”

You groan, putting your head on the table for a second before picking it back up again. “That’s actually a good idea. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“It’s easier from the outside sometimes.” Tim chuckles awkwardly.

“Thanks, Tim. I will try that.” You nod softly.

“You're welcome.” Tim smiles warmly. "So, you decided to just come here because you had a fight and wait for him to come around?"

“Oh, you really don’t want to work. Don’t you have like schoolwork to do or something?” You quip with a grin tugging at your lips.

“I dropped out.” Tim shifts in his seat slightly.

“Why? Aren’t you like a genius?”

Tim shrugs casually. “I mean not...”

“He does our books.” Mr. Drake calls from the counter making you laugh.

“Genius.” You state with a nod.

“Kind of.” Tim rolls his shoulders.

“I just, uh, I always liked it here. Your family is always here, and always felt real warm. And, uh, ya know? Been a while since I felt that so. Like, whole family dynamic thing.” You nod your head.

“Oh, well, in that case, you can run my deliveries. Really feel the warmth of a family then.” Tim nods twice with a toothy grin, glancing to his dad.

“No, I’m good.” You laugh. “That’s all you, Timmy.” You scrunch your nose. “Thanks, though, seriously.”

“Hey, we’re friends, right?” Tim shrugs casually.

“Yeah, I guess.” You shake your head. “Coming in here enough over the years, I guess so.” You smile softly. “Seriously, thank you. And also, I’m serious, don’t tell anyone. We don’t normally like when people know our shit.”

“I won’t tell anyone, don’t worry.” Tim chuckles.

“Well, I’m gonna head back to the manor. Give him space like you said. I’ll be back probably tomorrow.” You laugh as you get up.

“Oh, well, I’ll be here.” Tim states with wide eyes. “They won’t let me leave.” He whispers.

“So, go to school.” You mock him as Tim groans.

“Yeah, alright, be safe.” Tim chuckles.

“Yeah, too. All those delivers and such.” You offer him a thumbs-up before you head out of the restaurant.

The night goes by and you don’t go on patrol. You want to be here when Jason gets home and being out with Bruce just seems like it’ll make you more annoyed tonight. It’s his fault today happened anyway. So, you stay home and listen to Tim, giving Jason some space for the night.

Jason texts you here and there saying he’s still fine because he’s not throwing in the towel. The later the night gets, the more texts come through from him. He’s calmer as the night goes on and his anger is fading away. He apologizes a few more times and he wonders how he’s ever going to come back from what he said to you and Molly. Neither of you deserve it. You were just worried about him.

At some point, Jason stopped receiving texts from you and figured that was his cue to head back home. It’s two in the morning and he has to guess you fell asleep. He thinks it’s safe to go home and get to bed. He won’t have to talk about it when he gets home. He can just try to get at least some sleep.

When he gets home, Bruce is still out on patrol. The manor is completely quiet and he goes right to your room, just to check on you before he heads to his own bed. But, when he looks into your room, the bed is still made and you aren’t there. His heart plummets because he thinks he really blew it. He’s so sure you left. Maybe you're staying with Molly. Maybe you're just waiting for him to calm down before you break it off entirely. You're done and it’s all his fault.

Maybe you were only texting him back so you wouldn’t feel guilty if he did something stupid. He’s not sure, but he really thinks he messed things up with you this time.

Jason feels tears brim his eyes as he shuts the door. His head hangs as the lump grows further into his throat as he walks to his room. He did what he always does, push until someone gives up. He really, in the pit of his stomach, didn’t think you ever would. And he doesn’t even blame you. He just feels guilty and hurt for everything in the first place. He just keeps fucking it all up.

When he reaches the door of his room, his arm is weak as it creaks open but his attention snaps to the TV that’s on. There isn’t anything playing, it’s just the screensaver but it’s on and there’s an automatic shut off which means he didn’t leave it on. He looks in the opposite direction towards his bed where you're sleeping.

Jason sucks in a breath of relief at the sight of you. You didn’t give up. You didn’t leave. You waited for him in his room because you knew he would be avoiding talking and probably you when he got back if you were awake. And his heart swells. He doesn’t deserve you. But, he walks closer to the bed anyway and strips to his boxers before crawling into bed with you and wrapping his arms around you. He presses a kiss to your shoulder.

You hum from in front of him, your back pressed against his chest. “Jay?” Your voice is groggy as you tiredly look over your shoulder.

“Yeah.” Jason whispers softly. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’okay.” You smile softly, rolling around his arms to face him, your eyes barely open as you look up at him. The bruise from the day is hidden against the pillow and the low light of the bedroom. “Glad you’re home.”

“I’m so fucking sorry.” Jason states and you barely make out the guilt across his face.

“It’s okay, we’ll talk in the morning.” You snuggle against his chest. Truthfully, you're just glad he's home and he's safe. One bad day doesn't destroy everything you've built. “Not mad, just tired. Get some sleep, Jay. It’s just you and me.” You press a kiss to his chest, feeling Jason relax against you.

“I love you.” Jason mutters against the top of your head.

“I love you, too.” You smile softly against him.

Jason squeezes you softly against him and he doesn’t know why he’s still lucky to have you. His life is shit besides you and you pick him anyway. You should leave him and he knows you should. He was wrong for speaking to you that way and for pushing so damn hard. But you don’t. You're here anyway for reasons he’ll never understand. But he is immensely thankful you're still here. With him.

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reblogging so late, but i really dont want to lose this one, i loved it too much

Somebody To Love - Severus Snape

A/N: okay, honestly I am not even going to apologize for this because I loved it too much and I just hope you do to :D and it brought me out of my writers block so… enjoy xD

Warnings: mmmm so this is not smut, but there is heavy sex talk; it is a friends with benefits situation and it is a bit more descriptive than my usual works so I just rather be safe so not 18+ but maybe yes 16+; also reader smokes, Severus being an asshole (at first) and Malfoy and his friends making crude and crass comments about the reader so please don’t read if that will make you uncomfortable and let me know if I missed anything; also use of mudblood

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter :D and this beautiful gif isn’t mine :) 

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Somebody To Love

Can anybody find me somebody to love? Find Me somebody to love Somebody find me somebody to love

You had no idea how this happened. No. That was a lie. You knew exactly how it happened. For years you had considered Severus Snape to be your nemesis. You didn’t know exactly what it was. You had never gotten along with him. It didn’t help that you were in Gryffindor and he was in Slytherin. The two of you were always bickering and trying to defeat each other when it came to your courses. He was better at Potions, obviously. But you were better at Charms. He was better at Defense Against the Dark Arts but you were better at Herbology. No matter what it was, the two of you were constantly competing against each other. However, deep down… deep, deep down, you had always found him bewitching. There was something about him. You would never let anybody know, of course, since he was your sworn enemy, but you couldn’t help to feel drawn to him. You had been doing a marvelous job at hiding it, until one day…

“I can’t believe you got us detention!” he complained for about the hundredth time as the two of you cleaned the cauldrons in the Dungeons without magic.

“For the last time, Snape, I did not get us detention! This was your fault!”

“How was this my fault?!”

“I told you that you needed to brew the bloody potion the other way around but did you listen? Of course not, because you think nobody but you knows how to brew a bloody potion!”

“I could have made that stupid potion in my sleep if I wanted to! But you had to come with your stupid Gryffindor complex and make it all about yourself making the potion explode!”

“Oh, Merlin! Are you honestly so bloody pretentious that you can’t even admit the one time you might be wrong?!” you yelled, walking closer to him.

“I would admit if I was wrong, but I wasn’t!” he said, getting closer to you as well.

“No? Then why did our bloody potion explode?!”

“It was your fault!” he snapped, making you walk back into a wall.

“How? How was it my fault?!”

“Because you distracted me!” he blurted out.

“I distracted you?”

“Yes!”

“How did I distract you?”

“The same way you always do! You can never shut up! And you wore your stupid hair differently today! And you drenched yourself in your bloody perfume and the way you fucking bite your lip all the time!” he yelled and he was breathing heavily when he finished.

You had no idea if you were imagining this but you couldn’t dare to move. Severus had never been this close to you. And he had never talked to you that way. You were certain he felt the same way you did, and if he didn’t, you didn’t care anymore. You had to go for it. You grabbed the collar of his shirt and you brought him down to your lips. Severus widened his eyes in surprise for a mere moment before he closed them and wrapped his arms around your waist bringing you closer. There was no going back now.

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hi idc if this was posted three years ago, this is the most beautiful thing i’ve ever read

Till Kingdom Come (Jason Todd x Reader)

Part 1

Thank you so much to everyone who left a nice comment for me! They made my day and I’m so happy you guys like this fic as much as I do! Without further ado, here is part 2 to For the Kingdom! 

Warnings: Various spoilers for Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, To Kill a Mockingbird, and The Outsiders

Word Count: 5,000

Tags: @idkmanicantenglish @jaybirdxarsenal @palefiregiver @because-icanhide @nakedszn

Jason didn’t talk to you like he told Dick he would. He was scared to face you after causing so much pain during something that is supposed to bring pleasure. Why would you want to see him? Besides, Jason would end up saying something stupid and making you cry.

As he walks by the library, Jason pauses, backtracking and staring into the huge room. When he first tried giving gifts, he tried guessing what you were interested in and failed. So, instead of trying to guess what you might like, what if Jason shows you things about him and hopefully gives you a reason to not be scared of him?

… 

The next morning, you receive another gift from Jason. You open the box, expecting to find clothing or jewelry, but instead, you find a book with a note: I’m sorry about last night. I don’t want our marriage to be built on fear. I’m willing to try and make this work if you are. 

You smile sadly at the note then look down at the book: Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

Keep reading

---

𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐍 . . anakin skywalker

🎬//

teaser:

BUT I JUST MISS YOU,

AND I JUST WISH YOU

WEREEE A BETTER MAN...

ᶜ ʰ ᵃ ʳ ᵃ ᶜ ᵗ ᵉ ʳ ˢ : modern! anakin x fem! reader

warnings! :

swearing ,, angst

SUMMARY: the last person you expect at your door is your unofficial ex boyfriend of 3 months, in need of a favor... in need of a date.

based off this request (hope you like it ❤️)

〰️

the microwaved mac and cheese, laying pulled apart on your plate, was left completely uneaten. you weren't necessarily hungry, and you knew it even while making it, too. but maybe you did so just to grasp onto the semblance of a routine you still had. the incandescent, dim glow of your overhead light normally cast your small, cramped dining room into somewhat of a cozy aroma, but now, it brought shadows of hollowness along with it, much like your empty stomach.

watching the metal of your fork dig lazily into the small noodles, you leaned back in your chair, free hand on your thigh, and heaved an elongated and heavy exhale. your pinned up hair might've been collecting dust considering how long you had been sitting there, staring. night was slowly luring your town into its cave and pinching the wick of its candle until the flame kneeled and gave up.

biting your lip, you finally stood, pushing the chair from your legs, grabbing your mac and cheese and fork and walking the short distance to your kitchen. you emptied the contents of your plate into the pullout trashcan and turned on the sink, giving the water a moment to heat up before running the glass and metal beneath. when your house murmured with the shrill tune of the doorbell, you nearly rolled your eyes in disgruntlement, then straightened in confusion. who on earth was at your door on a random tuesday at 7 pm? setting the plate and fork onto the bottom of the sink, you shut off the water and shook your hands semi-dry, walking the hallway to your front door.

you patted your palms onto your jeans before you unlocked the entrance, turned the knob, and pulled the wood open. remembrance in a coat stood on the other side. almost immediately, your heart seized in your chest, the weight of memory hitting you in the all the wrong places. him. him. sweat collected in your palms, and a feeling of slight horror followed behind the shock. what was he doing here? what was your unofficial ex boyfriend doing here? when was the last time you even saw him? how many months ago was it that you had given up and packed your bags, leaving his empty house without so much as a goodbye. thinking so foolishly that maybe, if you fled, he'd chase after you. he'd care again. but no. you hadn't talked since. you didn't need to. prior to your undeclared breakup, there had been so much incessant fighting, that he must've known it was over the second he came back to his completely vacant house. no closure was needed, either. he didn't go after you, even if you wanted him to. that was that.

and yet, there he was. standing in front of you. staring. it was quiet a moment. he looked more shocked that he was there than you were. in fact, you didn't look shocked at all. your face was void of any emotion. the only giveaway that you were surprised was the slight raise of your eyebrows. and he... he was just as you recalled him to be. dark, blue eyes, framed by long lashes and low-set brows. soft curls that fell in waves over his forehead. the face you recalled late in the night. in your dreams. when you'd wondered why you had left in the first place, when you considered so thoroughly, just going back. going back to him. even if it meant the first thing you'd be doing in his vicinity would be screaming.

rain pattered on the roof. he did look a bit damp. "y/n," were the first words spoken in 3 months. it wasn't a question. and it certainly wasn't said in that desperate, breathy tone the men in movies laced into their words, proof that they'd spent hours dreaming of the holding of a hand or a kiss on the cheek. it was a statement.

"anakin," was your first response back. his name on your tongue seemed to snap the sense back into him. he shifted on his feet for the first time since you'd opened the door, and finally, anakin seemed to register just what was happening. you pursed your lips, gripping the knob until your knuckles turned white. "why— why are you here, anakin." not a question, either.

"i need—" his chest stuttered, "—a favor."

---

"no." your eighth word to anakin. no. what a powerful word. a simple, one syllable, two letter word that had the power to completely rip apart a whole spiel of pleas, a paragraph or two of asking. by saying just that one word, you killed a whole night's worth of planning and courage-building. but you weren't thinking much about that fact, then. no.

anakin stared incredulously at you. because he was definitely feeling the weight and wrath of that one word. he felt it like a nuisance. it was the silence that followed and the look of vacancy on your face. finally, he inhaled through his mouth, looked away. an annoyed expression enveloped his face, which was honestly laughable. "look—"

"no." 9th word. next, just to rub salt in the wound you'd formed with that one word, you bit out a humorless, horrible laugh, shaking your head and looking away. you didn't even know why you'd let your unofficial ex boyfriend into your house, sat him down at the table, and let him explain this "favor" of his. "you should leave, anakin. please."

his face hardened, shifting with your movements as you stood, expecting him to follow after. he did indeed, but stopped in front of you instead. "if this is about what happened—"

"i don't want to talk about what happened. ever. i thought you got the memo." rubbing a hand over your brows, you squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head again.

"okay, fine. i won't bring it up. not once. after it's over, in fact, i'll leave you alone and never talk to you again, because that's what you want, right?"

it was mockery. anakin was mocking you. you stopped shifting, looking up at him with your mouth slightly agape and your eyes boring into his as if he was just joking. "y'know, you have some real nerve, coming to my house and expecting me to accommodate to your needs—which are some really stupid fucking needs—even after what happened. some real nerve. get out, anaki—!"

"i know! i know i do!" his hands flew out at either side of him, hovering, and thick brows knitted together, casting his face into madness. he was mad. he had the audacity to be mad. you were reminded again of why you left in the first place. you couldn't go 30 minutes without bickering. "do you think i'd be here if this situation wasn't drastic?! my mother will stab me in the eye if i show up to this dinner without you. literally stab me—!"

"your problems stopped being mine 3 fucking months ago. get out, anakin, or do i have to start screaming bloody murder until my neighbors call the cops?"

he shifted on his feet in that way that angry mothers did in movies, as if unbelieving of what was happening. even though he had brought it upon himself. "i know you hate me, y/n, for... for— what happened. and i know you blame me too. i understand it, but i have reason to hate you just as much. you might despise me, and i might despise you, but you need to understand just how important this is to beru. to my family. so can we please just— just..." the anger in his eyes shifted. so did something in your chest.

"i do. and i'm telling you no." you turned on your heel, walking down the hallway, opening the front door, and motioning him outside. he still stood at that spot in your kitchen. you inhaled deeply, your chest rising. "i don't care about you or your shit anymore, okay? i stopped fucking caring because you didn't fucking care. get out." he did not budge. groaning, you abandoned the door and walked back down, leaving it open. "you're still as egotistical as you were 3 months ago."

"and you're still as stubborn as you were 3 months ago."

"you're the one who refuses to get out of a woman's house."

"fine, you hold grudges just the same as you did 3 months ago."

"text me the fucking information and get out!" you snapped, and he didn't so much as flinch. because anakin knew what he was doing, wearing you down until you gave way.

relief washed over his face. you wanted to rip it clean off. what you didn't want was to give him the satisfaction. maybe it was petty. not maybe. it really was. standing here, in the same room as him, was like torture all over again. it brought back memories of days you thought you'd buried. but at the same time, what happened happened, and you couldn't make it go away by making him the villain. he was right. you hated to admit it, but it wasn't solely his fault after all. maybe it was meant to happen. and plus, how many times had he saved your ass when you asked for it? you owed it to him. you owed it all. so why was it so hard to say yes? cause you liked knowing he was desperate and you liked the way it felt, to turn down a desperate man just because of a past that was not solely his fault?

"maybe not as stubb—" you raised a hand as if to hit him and it was what sent him into a quick thank you and departure.

---

and so, because you blurted a hasty and angered approval with little to no actual thought behind your words, you sat at your small vanity and pinned your hair into an updo a week later, on an airy, wednesday afternoon. much too pretty an afternoon to be worrying over things like celebratory dinners. you didn’t even want to think of what would happen in the following hours, surrounded by a family you still knew every fault and strength of. next to a man you, of course, still loved. you also didn’t want to think about what you’d have to do to keep up this… act of dating with him in front of his sister and parents. there were too many things you didn’t want to think about.

the skin of your neck still whined about the burn you had acquired trying to curl your hair, which you were embarrassingly horrible at despite being good at styling hair otherwise. already you were annoyed and none of the actually annoying parts of the night had commenced yet. you'd given yourself an hour to get ready and with the curling iron incident and the trouble to pick out an outfit, you were just barely on time when you rushed out the door and drove off.

"thanks for showing up," were anakin's first words, leaned against the wall a few feet off from the entrance of the restaurant. but it wasn't a thank you. it was sarcasm. he stifled the butt of the cigarette between his fingers on the brick beside him and flicked it to the ground.

"you're welcome, and also very lucky," came your reply, gripping your black leather handbag in front of you and nervously looking around. even in your navy blue, satin gown, you felt poorly dressed. it was the best part of town and the restaurant not 3 feet from where you stood had only received good word and input.

"oh, yes. you've absolutely graced me with your presence." anakin pulled a hand from the bag and lifted it to his mouth, but you lightly—unfortunately—swatted at his face before he could kiss it.

"i'm actually hoping to un-grace you as soon as possible. let's get on with it, please and thank you." your eyes flew to the opening door, and the extravagantly-dressed couple that walked out laughing together, hand in hand, the sound of soft jazz and chattering words stumbling out after them. rich patchouli rode the air, and you breathed a handful of it in.

when you looked back, a bit confused as to why anakin hadn't answered with his own, snarky remark, you almost immediately got your answer. he was staring at the mark on your neck. fuck. you forgot to cover up the burn. his eyes were driven over with starkness, looking almost black instead of their usual blue. "curling iron." your free hand insecurely prodded at the burn, eliciting a sharp wince from your throat. "and stop staring at me, you creep. get on with it." your fingers fell and instead motioned to the door, telling him to lead the way in silence. anakin snapped out of whatever spiral he fell into and cleared his throat.

he turned fast enough to miss the prickle of redness that coated your cheeks.

---

the dinner went as expected.

beru's stomach bulged from under her overcoat, and she touched it almost every second. her eyes wore the tired and worn stare of a soon-to-be mother, and yet, she seemed ecstatic. you could tell she had not acquired much rest, and the same went for her boyfriend, owen. you'd met him maybe once or twice, and he seemed worthy enough of your almost-sister, though, in truth, you felt no one was worthy enough.

shmi was as she was three months ago. her hands still held their gentleness and her smile was just as soft and delicate. cliegg was no different, either. no one was different, in fact. so similar you felt you'd completely dreamt your breakup with anakin, that this was just another day, in love with him.

it appeared not.

"so, how are you two?" forks clanked against plates. bubbles of champagne popped and crackled in their cardigan of glass. your steak scraped your throat as you swallowed and met your unwelcoming stomach, your appetite gone. depleting further when the question was asked. "it's been so long since we last had a dinner like this." shmi's supple fingers rested atop cliegg's arm, her expression lightening as she looked to her husband and back to you. the two of you.

"it's been a long time in general," beru chimed. anakin leaned back from his plate, clearing his throat.

"yes. it has," he agreed. you straightened, pushing back your shoulders and nodding once.

"we've—" you looked to him for a second, the tender glance of a lover, as if you couldn't keep your eyes off of him for one moment. when he faked a smile, you did too. "we've been good. all the same, in the least."

shmi nodded her head, and beside her, cliegg leaned over the table, both arms on either side of his plate. "you talked about that orchestra last time we met, did you not?" the woman asked, cocking her head. "how's that going for you?"

"oh, it's all good." you never tried out.

"you'll get in," beru reassured.

"i'm sure she will." anakin reclined forward, meeting your eyes and smiling softly. you resisted the urge to scowl, resisted the urge to run away screaming, and in your haste, responded stupidly.

"don't jinx it." to your fortune, shmi laughed, and then beru, and then, everyone else.

"and anakin doesn't bother you too much, yes?" cliegg chimed in, eyes on yours. you shrugged, conjuring up an actually-thought-through answer.

"i'm still here, right?" more laughter. you chuckled yourself, delicately taking your champagne glass from the table and closing your still-smiling lips around the rim. you smiled as the bubbles clambered and fought for space in your mouth, and you smiled as they did the same all the way down your throat, the tangy citrus tasting more of poison on your tongue.

when you leaned back in your chair, you slyly spoke to the man beside you, "ice cream."

he looked to you then, confused, and you rolled your eyes, exhaling sharply. "my favor. you owe me ice cream. i don't know when, but you owe me ice cream."

anakin grinned then, and it made your empty stomach twist. "i thought you'd ask for a second life or my soul. maybe a genie lamp, knowing you. something undoable."

"lets not forget that i have the power to tell your whole family that your pathetic ass turned up at my door after we broke up 3 months ago, asking me to fake date you. i would watch your tone if i were you. something undoable." he shut his mouth, and your pride was short-lived upon realizing beru was staring strangely at you. quickly, you turned and captured his lips with your own. just a peck. you made sure to smile when you pulled away, and pinched him when the only thing on his face was surprise.

"nice going dumbass. you're blowing our cover," you said through a tender smile.

"since when have you cared about covers," he countered through his own.

"since ice cream was on the line."

---

soon, it became all unbearable.

anakin's presence beside you was the log in your throat and the death that loitered too often. everywhere. it was worse that you had to kiss him and hug him and love him like nothing but happiness was what your relationship was built off of. his lips were the nausea in your stomach and the worry in your brow, each bite of your steak like consuming toxin and tightening the noose around your throat further. you'd lost your appetite just by breathing his air.

"s'cuse me." you turned to him, lightly touching his arm and pulling him from his conversing, though you left before you could see the curiosity that combed through his blue eyes.

your time in the bathroom was spent fanning yourself off—it was, for whatever reason, sweltering hot in the restaurant—and staring at your reflection in the mirror. not to any surprise, even the bathroom was extremely expensive-looking, yet no one but a few, equally expensive-looking woman sauntered in and out while you were there. you earned looks, of course, but you also didn't care much. you needed a break and a cigarette horribly.

you were maybe 6 minutes into your isolation when the door opened and heels clicked. leaned over the sink, you watched the entrance and the woman step in through the mirror, but she was not just any woman.

"y/n?" beru's curious eyes met yours, and she quickly walked fully in and let the door close shut by itself behind her. you straightened, turning and clearing your throat.

"beru, hi," you breathed out. she cocked her head, brows pinning together.

"everyone's wondering where you are. you've been in here the whole time?"

"yea, sorry. just... period cramps." your eyes followed her stout figure as she knowingly nodded and reached into her purse, rummaging through the contents.

"i think i might have so advil in here," she mumbled more to herself than to you. "i never leave the house without it. y'know how it is." quickly, you paced the distance between you and her and rested a hand on her searching arm, stopping her. beru's gaze strayed to yours, having to crane her neck a bit, and she gave you a confused look.

"no, that's fine. i dont— i'm fine." more skepticism than confusion now. she eyed you down for a moment before retreating her hands and resting them beside her.

"alright..." a moment of staring. you awkwardly rubbed your hands down your lap, turning and pretending to fix a loose strand of hair in the mirror. silence passed. finally, her hand on your shoulder. you looked to her in the mirror, her gaze fixated on your reflection.

"are you okay?" it caught you off guard.

"yea— of course. why— why do you... uh— ask?" you sputtered, squirming.

beru pursed her lips, looking straight into your eyes in a way that made your body alert. "i don't know. there's tension, i've noticed." she stared a moment longer before walking to the sink beside you and leaning into the glass, fixing her makeup. "i thought you guys would be the next, y'know." her eyes flickered to her stomach. you gulped. "i guess... you know he loves you, right? i can tell." your stomach twisted, something you wished so badly wasn't tears pricking your eyes. the words hurt more than anything, because they made you think. they plunged you into that feeling, actually, forced thoughts you had worked to leave behind right back into your mind, erasing all those nights you turned away from that turmoil.

"if you need to talk, i'm always free." she turned her head to you, then walked over, squeezing your arm. you opened your mouth, searching for words you knew you wouldn't turn up with. "you're my friend. my sister. it doesn't matter if you aren't yet. you know i love you. you know everyone in that room loves you. but i've never seen someone love as much as anakin does you. it's something i can't fathom. sometimes, i think he might not deserve you, but then i see the way he looks at you. with hope. with emotions i thought could only be grasped in books and plays. he does love you, in case you ever doubt it."

those same tears threatened to slip down your cheeks as she leaned in and kissed your cheek. you thought. you thought so much, so distantly. so distantly you did not bother anakin the rest of the dinner. so distantly you almost forgot to say goodbye to shmi and cliegg. so distantly no one questioned it.

---

"fuck!" your shoulders slumped inward, every single emotion physically leaving your body except for lingering anger, which intensified and intensified and intensified. it quickly switched into worry.

the streets were not empty, of course. you could call an uber, but then you'd have to sit out here for a while, where it was cold and brisk and much too unwelcoming. you cursed towing companies and their stupidity, and cursed yourself for being late and not noticing you'd parked in a restricted area of the street. no car. no way home.

you turned away, surveying the roads across and exhaling deeply. "damn it. fuck. of course this happens to me." and so began the long walk back down to the restaurant, in hopes you'd find a taxi there, where it was much more populated. soon, your feet were throbbing in your heels and your handbag might as well have weighed 100 pounds.

"just a bit more," you spoke to no one but yourself and the loitering darkness, whispering and murmuring all around you. "a little longer—" headlights. a car turned on the road and clambered up the street, and was that... anakin. you stopped, and it stopped, and the engines noisily protested, but still, he rolled the window down and gave you a curious look.

"my car got towed," you explained, borderline panting. anakin raised his brows, and you half expected easy quips and a car driving off, but no.

"get in."

you paused, wondering if what had come out of his mouth had actually come out of his mouth. just to be snarky, you looked around a moment, then back at him, pointing to yourself. "a— are you talking to me— or do you do just casually drive up to women on the road and tell them to get in your car every night?"

"the latter. get in." rolling your eyes, you near-stomped up to the car and opened the door, slinking into the familiar seats. the smell of pine and rich bark filled your nose, and it brought back memories of so many things, that the scent seemed more foul than sweet.

"how unoriginal," you nodded to the tree-like car refresher hanging from the rearview mirror that was the whole reason it smelled this way.

"really, 'cause i remember you picking this out for me. said something along the lines of, 'now your car will smell good'."

you shut your mouth and looked out the window as he hit the pedal and started driving away from the street. in fact, you shut your mouth the whole ride to what you assumed was your house—unless he was planning to axe murder you, of course—and only opened it when you actually thought he was planning to. instead of keeping straight, he turned onto your town's main road and started through the many shops and stores.

"this is not the way dumbass."

"you think i forgot? it's only been three months. and you never told me to bring you home," anakin countered, looking to you for a second before focusing back on the road.

"well i doubt you're any good at kidnapping, so where are you bringing me?" you studied the lines of his face, the way the shadows carved his cheeks and jaw and the stop lights brightened his eyes. your stomach twisted, and beru's words came rushing back. you wondered if you still looked at him in that way. hopefully. lovingly. stupidly.

"ice cream, dumbass.'

"i don't want ice cream anymore, dumbass."

"well too bad, 'cause i want it, dumbass."

---

"get me a—"

"i know!"

---

despite your earlier claims, you devoured your chocolate ice cream like it was the last thing you'd ever eat on earth, unknowing of just how hungry you were now that you didn't have any food to eat. the rich delicacy coated your tongue and bit into your throat, chilled and soft and so so lovely. you held anakin's pecan ice cream in your other hand as you walked out the small yet cozy shop and opened the car door—not without a struggle—slinking inside. you were a bit damp, as it was slightly drizzling out, but the rain was not what you cared for.

"how'd you remember my order?" anakin asked indifferently, his voice laced with easiness as you handed him the cup between your rapid licks.

"it's only been three months," you quoted him in a mocking tone, but was too fixated on the sweet treat in your hands to catch the look of annoyance he gave you. "shit. i don't think i don't even remember the last time i had ice cream. i forgot how good—" a lick, "—it is."

anakin chuckled. "it's not gonna run away. slow down."

"dessert waits for no one," you countered in a smart-ass tone, finally pausing to look his way. he stared incredulously at you, his lips parting and even more laughter gracing your ears and filling the chocolate-and-pecan tainted air. "what?" you pursed your lips, and his fingers came to his own, pointing.

"you uh—" laughter, "have something... everywhere."

"yea, thanks for the details, jackass. have something where," you mused with a slight smile.

anakin only laughed, trailing his mouth with his finger and watching you wipe at your face.

"there. is it gone?" you found yourself speaking in between your giggles.

"ice cream can never be that good," he teased, watching you finally pull down the mirror and inspect your lips. you gawked. it was everywhere. truly. even on your nose.

"yea, you're a great help, anakin."

"anakin?" he cocked his head, and you briefly looked to him, raising a brow. "i don't think i've heard you call me that yet. dickswab, yes, maybe shit-face."

"i hate you," you laughed, shaking your head and turning back to the mirror. "and if you don't eat that soon, i will." you gestured to the pecan ice cream in his hand that you'd only seen him manage two spoons of in your chocolate frenzy.

his eyes trailed your figure as you wiped and wiped and wiped, that perfect smile seemingly stuck to his lips. how long had it been since you last saw it, anyways? too long, you decided, as you turned and pushed away the mirror, meeting those stupidly blue irises with your own. yes. much too long.

"and you're the one who said you didn't want any," he quipped one last time before taking the spoon and digging it in, coming up with pecan-littered smoothness. his lips wrapped around the plastic, and your smile died as you watched him. silence fell. you stared and stared for what seemed like hours. "you're drooling."

"over the ice cream, duh," came your half-thought reply. but ice cream was a long-forgotten thing. he chuckled, eyes straying from the bowl, to your own. you gulped. again, quiet. it fell so easily. too easily. too calmly. but silence wasn't calm at all. it was s wild, unruly thing, and you could feel its chaos leeching the worry from you. feel it everywhere. the way he looked at you. hopefully. like in the books. beru's words came rushing back to you, and suddenly, the silence was not a good thing. it was horrible. it was death. you swallowed down thickness and lingering chocolate, your heart twisting in your chest as you thought back on what she said, and turned away.

"i— i'm tired." the mood immediately changed. "can you just bring me home now?"

his throat bobbed. "sure.." anakin must've felt the shift too, too, because a moment's stare at you longer and he was dropping the bowl into the cup holder and turning on the car, backing out and away from whatever had conspired in that moment.

as the stores hid behind the bend he turned on to your house, the unease that gripped your throat morphed into something bigger. something greater. anger. he had let you leave. no person who loved you as much as beru said he did would just let you leave without a fight. why hadn't he fought, anyways? he didn't love you. maybe at some point, but not nearing the end of your relationship. and maybe you were the one that left in the end, but it was never because you wanted to. it was because you wanted him. you wanted him back. you thought maybe, if you left, he'd see the impact you had on his life. he'd leave his differences behind, just to get you back. you thought he'd change. how stupid. how ironic. you almost laughed at it, too. because he would never. the whole reason you fought was because of his tendency to push you away. to isolate himself. to torture his mind with his thoughts. it drove you crazy, and it was what led to your relationships' demise.

"are you okay?"

"yea." you shrugged, staring out the window and tucking your hands between your closed thighs. but your tone was harsh and rude. he knew something was up, and to his credit, didn't question any further.

when, finally, he pulled into your driveway, tears were pricking your eyes. ones of anger, firstly, but sorrow for what could've been secondly.

"i'll walk you to your door," anakin offered as you unbuckled your seatbelt, doing the same.

"it's fine," was your only reply as you harshly opened the door and stepped out, squeezing your handbag like a lifeline. rain pattered against your skin, but you didn't seem to care. not as your hair soaked through and your dress clung to your body. you roughly shut it behind you and started walking the length up to your entrance, heels clicking on the concrete, when the loud thud of his own door shutting sounded beside you. you ignored him, even as his footsteps drew nearer underneath the sound of the rain.

"can you hold on for one moment?" anakin's voice called, then, his hand on your arm. you shoved him off of you, not even looking him in the eye.

"leave me alone." water slid down your face, and you were glad for it. glad the tears streaking your cheeks looked more like the precipitation than your feelings unraveled.

"what is your problem?!" he hissed, hair clinging to his forehead and liquid dripping off his lashes. "what did i even do?!" a demand.

you stopped, whirled around, and conjured up the nastiest look known to man on your face. "not what you did, anakin. what you did was hurt me, what you did was shut me out, what you did was pretend your own damn girlfriend didn't exist. but maybe that would've been excusable. it's what you didn't fucking do."

he shut his mouth, shriveled. you hadn't talked about it, and right now, you were. it was like an unspoken rule. don't speak of the breakup. but now... he stared into your hurt eyes.

"what you didn't fucking do, was go after me. how can you say that you love me, and then let me leave you?! do you think i wanted to go in the first place?! do you think for one second that i'd just leave you like that because of some stupid fucking fights?!" you cried over the rain. your sobbing was evident now. the rise and fall of your chest, the plea in your voice, hidden by anger, your face, twisted in frustration and pain. "answer me, anakin!" you hit his chest, and hit it again, your bag falling to the ground. "do you think for one fucking second, that i meant it when i said i hated you?! do you think i would just abandon you after 3 years of loving you because you turned away?! you selfish bastard!" you hit, and hit, and hit, and still, he did not budge. it infuriated you more.

your fists collided with his chest over and over again, and anakin just stared down at you, his face crumbling but still upright. you wanted it to fall. so badly. "you broke me! you fucked me up, asshole. i thought you'd go after me, i thought you'd care again, and you didn't! you didn't give two shits. and i don't hate you, but i hate you for what you didn't do for me. i hate you for not fighting, and i hate you for thinking that i wouldn't fight!" with each punch, you became slower. your arms became heavier. rain claimed you in its grasp, but you didn't care.

"say something, anakin," you begged, sobbing and stopping your fighting altogether. you stumbled back and your arms circled around your middle. he did not answer your plea. did not say anything at all. just studied you. finally, you bent and grabbed your slippery bag in your hands, staring at him a moment more and willing him to speak, before turning, heart heavy, to your door.

your hand was on the knob when his voice sounded. "i wanted you to leave." you bristled, and everything within you stopped. sadness, and then... "because i did not deserve you, and it hurt to know. it hurt to watch you linger around me, when i knew you could've done much greater things with your life. it hurt to know i was the one holding you back, that it was my fault you were in such pain. i couldn't... i couldn't handle it. i couldn't handle knowing you deserved a better man. someone who would hold you but not hold you back, someone who would care but not be overly careful. i was hurting you, and it hurt me. i wanted you to leave, not because i didn't want you, but because i knew you shouldn't have wanted me."

the words struck you like a bullet to the chest. your back was still to him, but your surprise was evident in the way your shoulders tensed, just as your heart did beneath the safety of your ribs. you stared at a crack in the wood and thought. the tears stopped, but rain still pattered across your face.

"and i know it is selfish. i know i'm a selfish bastard for hurting you in the way i did and deeming it for your own good, but it was killing me, too. loving you was killing me, because i loved you too much, but i knew no matter how much i did, i'd never deserve your love in return. and i should've told you, and i'm so sorry that i didn't, y/n, and i'm so sorry that i hurt you like this, and i know it's too late—"

"it's only been three months," you quoted. he had not noticed you turn around, looking so intently at anything but you, but now, his eyes were fixed on yours, and you were staring, and he was staring. and for a moment or two, rain was the only sound, his blue eyes were the only sight, and an eternity and a half later, he was kissing you.

back against the door, soaked hands in soaked hair, and the taste of weather on his lips. it was a kiss for three months lost, and it was everything. soft, then fervent, fervent, then soft, as if to make up for time long gone, and it really did. you felt every inch of him part against every part of you, and pressing, and pressing, and pressing. when you parted, you pulled a few inches away from him.

"there is no better man. there's only you, anakin." you whispered. "you're selfish and stupid, but only because you can't realize that. you can't not deserve someone who loves you, because it doesn't make sense. they chose you, so obviously you're worthy. and i hate you for not telling me, too, but i hate a lot of things." you shrugged. "so.. it's okay. i forgive you, and... i guess i'm sorry for hitting you... or whatever, but you deserved it for being stupid."

he laughed, and with red eyes you now knew were from crying, stared back into yours. "i hate you too, and i guess i'm sorry for not realizing it sooner." anakin's head cocked to one side, inspecting your wide smile. "and i see why you like the chocolate. it tastes good." he tasted it the rest of the night.

.

RED = TAYLOR REFERENCE AND I'LL BE PUTTING THEM IN ALL MY WORKS FROM NOW ON 🤭🤭

thanks for reading!! ik its a bit lengthy but i was grinding the shit out of this fic soooo

anyways, hope requester liked it! requests are always open ❤️❤️

@blairwaldrfsworld

lorenzo zurzolo the man that you are🙈

On mission

Y/N: *taking out a knife* every room can become a panic room if you give me just a fucking minute...

Roy: I'm scared Jay... Jay?

Jason: I'm horny.