i'd catch some stars for you and just for you

love | 18+ dark content blog | follows from loveledmetoyou

[catchingfallingstars]

call me love! ♡ they/them ♡ 20s ♡ dead dove connoisseur ♡ 18+ sideblog.

current fandoms: jjk + lads + dc.

ABOUT ME ♡ BYF ♡ TAG SYSTEM ♡ REQS CLOSED ♡ KINKTOBER M.LIST

RECENTS

♡ Touch Yourself After Hours | Dick Grayson x Best-Friend!Reader (One-Shot) ♡ The First Taste | Caleb x Sister!Reader (One-Shot) ♡ Twisted Desire | Itadori Yuuji x Sister!Reader (One-Shot)

[catchingfallingstars]

(SECOND) ROMANCE | SENPAI!NANAMI KENTO X KOUHAI!READER ♥︎

♡ CHAPTER TWO: cómo

♡ SYNOPSIS: Graduating brings you new opportunities and realizations, ones you cling to in the wake of your best friend's death.

♡ WORD COUNT: 5.5k

♡ WARNINGS: 18+, mentions of grief, depression, alcohol abuse, and implied bigotry.

♡ A.N: Sorry for the long wait for this chapter! The bag that my notebook, where I outlined this fic, was stolen a little after I posted the first chapter and lost interest, but I decided to soldier through and outlined it once more! This chapter took way longer to write than I’d like to admit, and I’m not fully satisfied, but I’m glad it’s done, so we can get to important things (Nanami Kento!!!). That said this is the obligatory timeskip chapter so be ready for that!

PREVIOUS ♡ AO3 ♡ M.LIST/TAGLIST ♡ NEXT

Sunlight streams through the blinds of the window. Its delicate rays awaken you from your surprisingly peaceful slumber. You’re alone, but you feel impossibly warm with the memory—or perhaps fantasy—of an imprint of a kiss upon your forehead. 

Kento is long gone, and greedy you can’t help but wish he wasn’t. It’s for the best, though; had he stayed past dawn, you would have done something you would forever regret. He made himself clear when he left, and to go against his wishes would ruin any remaining chance of a reunion. 

He’d run away again, only he’d never stop. 

Perhaps it’s naive to think he’d ever return to sorcery because that is the only way your possible reunion will work out. You just can’t imagine a future where you’re not a sorceress; there is no other life for you. Maybe you’ll take sabbaticals, but you’ll always return, at least until the job kills you. It’s an inevitable fate, but it’s the one you chose and will continue to choose.

You’re good at this job; you enjoy it—the rush of endorphins during the heat of battle, the helplessness of your targets when they’re unable to escape because of what they’ve freely given, the power and pleasure surging through you as you cleanse more filth from the world. 

Maybe when the higher-ups decide you’re off the hook from your previous association with multiple curse users, you’d be let on higher-ranking missions, not just the purposefully misranked ones—the ones that end in unjust deaths, and for what? Why is it that sorcerers' lives are deemed as disposable?

Sometimes you think that he had it right, wishing to rid the world of the source, but you’re able to acknowledge that genocide on such a global scale is impossible, and that this is just the way the world works. People die all the time; it’s just that sorcerers tend to drop like flies because of how small the population of them is. 

It’s just another high-hazard profession—terrible work that must be done, but at least you excel at it. Kento could have too—and he did—with his efficient mindset, but if he felt even a fraction of how you do now when his partner died, you can understand his desire to depart before more tragedy befell him. 

However, this is where the two of you differ: you cling, and he leaves.

…

You need to stop thinking about him; it only ruins your mood.

Today is your graduation, and while no one will be beside you as you receive your diploma, your gaggle of senpai will be there to cheer you on. 

It is enough; it will be enough. 

Having had enough of your own brooding, you sit up and head to the bathroom to begin your morning. For someone who imbibed too much hours before, you’re suspiciously sober and without nausea and a raging headache. That mystery is solved quickly when you notice a sticky note on your door on your way out. 

Decided to check up on you when I noticed my missing bottles and saw they were all drained dry. You’re welcome for not having to deal with a hangover during your graduation 

— Your Favorite Senpai ♡ 

P.S. You’ll get your card back later.  

You snort.

How presumptuous of her, but you wouldn’t have her any other way. 

Now that you’re up and moving, you realize it’s the first night you haven’t woken from a nightmare, your only dreamless rest, and you forget how refreshing it is to not wake with a scream caught in your chest and sticky with sweat. 

The ceremony isn’t until noon, so you have a few hours to decompress, which you do without any interruptions. 

It only takes two hours to get ready, which includes taking a shower, drying and styling your hair, and applying enough makeup to hide your exhaustion. You spend the rest of the time cleaning your room and packing up the remaining items. 

You leave your photos for last, delicately removing them as you reminisce over your four years as a student at this school. If you were honest, they’ve been the best years of your life. You think they always will be, specifically your first year, when everyone you cared about was in one place—well, mostly. 

How inane nostalgia is; you find yourself missing even your long-dead classmates, the ones you did your best not to get attached to. 

You separate the pile of photos based on who’s in them and aren’t surprised when two stand out as the largest. You put those away in different envelopes quickly, along with the rest, barring a few that you had successfully managed to hide away when you ran away. 

The twins are so little in your pictures, and your heart aches to know how much they must have grown since you were away. You miss them and all their silly antics, how they’d sneak away from their lessons to watch your dance and attempt to copy your movements. You’d always invite them in to teach them the proper footwork, fan motions, and timing, and they’d always perform the short routine you taught them before a small audience, dressing them in miniature versions of what you wore, attaching bells to their hair, and arming them with mai-ogi as opposed to your tessen. You can’t help but wonder if they hate you now, and the mere thought brings tears to your eyes. 

You put their pictures away, leaving you with the two you copied from his personal collection. One was taken by one of the girls, and it captures the first moment you were able to catch him off guard by twirling one of your tessen up into the sky, capturing his attention for a split second, long enough to get in close to strike. His eyes are wide as he realizes what’s happened, but like every other person, he can’t escape your hold. You’re halfway through a laugh, looking happier and wilder than ever. It’s one of your favorites. The other depicts you in full ceremonial attire as you stand behind him during a so-called service. You’re staring at each other from the corner of your eyes, commiserating with congenial smiles to distract from your shared irritation at dealing with monk—non-sorcerers. You almost can’t recognize the girl you were, but you know you can never escape her shadow— even if you wanted to, which you don’t. 

Your family set you free, and for that, they will always be a part of your heart. It doesn’t matter that your ideals no longer match. Should they beckon you, you’ll come, but they won’t. You’re unsure if it's kindness or indifference that stays their hand; both purport a different type of anguish.

You tuck the photos away in their separate envelope and place all of them, carefully sealed and organized, into one of your suitcases. 

Just like that, you’ve packed away four years of your life. 

You leave your room and go to the courtyard.

Iori-senpai, Ieiri-senpai, Mei Mei, and Ui Ui are gathered in the shade on seats that were probably taken from one of the classrooms. 

Ieiri-senpai is the first to notice you, waving at you with an unlit cigarette in hand as she says, “Look who decided to finally show up. You lost me 3,000 yen, you know.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “You still have my card, don’t you?” 

She smiles with all her teeth, and you’re curious how much damage she intends to do—or already has done and just what the bet she lost entailed. You don't ask, though.

Iori-senpai’s head whips in your direction, and she immediately skips to you, hugging you and swinging you around in her embrace. You accept it easily, patting her back once you’ve had enough. She lets you down as you wave at Mei Mei and her brother, who return your greeting. Ui Ui has gotten bigger since you last saw him, something that only stands to remind you of how many milestones you’ve missed from the girls’ lives.

You turn back to Iori-senpai, who is brimming with excitement. You wish you could share her enthusiasm.

“You’re graduating today. Isn’t that exciting?”

You lift your hand and wave it in a ‘so-so’ motion. 

She groans. “You’re no fun. Well, I’m excited for you.”

“It’s just a piece of paper,” you remind her gently.

Iori-senpai harrumphs. “A piece of paper that very few earn!” 

“I suppose you’re right,” you concede easily, not wanting to rile her up further. 

“Of course, I’m right.” She pauses. “Are you really not excited?”

“I’m excited for the benefits that this degree will grant me. I guess I’m also proud that I managed to survive this long to get it.”

Her shoulders drop, and she lets out a sigh. “You’re such a pessimist.”

“I’m a realist,” you disagree. “Like all sorcerers should strive to be.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Yaga's coming,” Ieiri-senpai interrupts, like the angel she is. You don’t want to get into it with Iori-senpai, not when you usually keep your opinions to yourself; today is just an off day. 

She nods towards you, so you look back, and sure enough, Yaga-gakucho is exiting one of the buildings, a single diploma in one of his hands. 

There should be two of them, and Shizuka should be standing next to you, but that simply isn’t in the cards anymore. You close your eyes, and a familiar, delicate hand rests upon your shoulder. 

“It’s time,” Mei Mei declares, her voice light enough to pull you out of your spiral. You don’t know what to do with pity, something Mei Mei knows well. You dip your head in silent thanks, and she squeezes your shoulder gently before pushing you forward. 

As suspected, your graduation ceremony is darkened by the shadows of your fallen classmates, but specifically Shizuka’s. It’s still too fresh, but Yaga-gakucho has enough tact not to reference any of that during his little speech. You suspect that he’s had plenty of practice over the years; students die all the time, and he’s been working at this school for longer than a decade. 

Still, you can imagine how Shizuka would have one arm wrapped around your neck as she cheered at his congratulations, diploma in hand, buzzing with exhilaration over a rare accomplishment. Instead, it is only the little crowd that has gathered solely for you that claps and cheers once the piece of paper granting you freedom is in your hands. They’re smiling for you, and here you are, longing for an impossibility. 

Ieiri has a camera in hand, capturing a moment you wish to forget, and so you play the part of the girl you had been only weeks ago. You grin and bow dramatically to her and Iori-senpai’s encouraging jeers. You blow kisses towards your senpai and to little Ui Ui, who blushes and turns his head the other way when you wink at him. He's such a darling child. It's a shame Mei Mei keeps him tucked away at her side so often. You'd spoil him if she'd let you. Alas, you know she'd never let you, so Ui Ui would never have divided loyalties.

As you straighten from your last bow, you think, for a moment, that you see Kento near the entrance gate, but then sakura blossoms sweep across your vision, and he’s gone. Nothing more than a chimerical fantasy. 

Instead, you’re left standing alone with a diploma in your hand, while Shizuka haunts your every step. Her perfume wafts in your nose as the breeze of freshly bloomed blossoms reaches you. Her steady, warm breath tickles your ear. Her silken hair brushes against your neck from where she hangs onto you. You shiver at the sudden pervasive cold that spreads through you. Digging your nails into your palm hard enough to draw blood causes warmth to flood you as the weight is lifted from your shoulders.

You are alone once more.

You can't continue to live like this.

“Hey, Iori-senpai,” you begin hesitantly, uncertain if this is what you want. She tilts her head with a small smile, an encouraging motion if you’ve ever seen one. You let out a breath and decide to take the plunge. “Do you think you’d be willing to help me get settled in Kyoto?”

You watch as her face lights up in real time. “Yes! I’d love nothing more!” She closes the distance between you, embracing you in a fierce hug, which you hesitantly return. She continues to keep you close by holding onto your shoulders when she finally pulls away with a bright smile as she asks, “How come you didn't tell me you were thinking about moving?” 

You shrug. “I remember you saying you were lonely out there by yourself, but I didn’t want to get your hopes up. I wasn’t sure if it’s what I wanted, but I think…” You pause, clearing your throat to remove the tightness from it. “I think some new scenery will do me good.” 

Her face softens. “If that’s what you want, then of course, I’ll help you.”

“You know what this means, right?” 

You blink, feeling oddly like you’ve been caught in a trap. “… No.” 

Iori-senpai is grinning ear to ear now, looking much like the cat who got the canary. “You have to call me Utahime!” 

You blanch and look off to the side. “Must I?” 

She nods sagely. “Finally! I’ve been waiting years to hear you call me by my given name. You don’t have the excuse of seniority separating us now that you’re a fully-fledged sorceress. We’re friends.” 

She closes the distance between you, embracing you in a fierce hug, which you hesitantly return. She smells like hinoki incense and feels real against your body, nothing like the phantom feelings you've been experiencing. This could be good—it will be good.

Ieiri-senpai's voice cuts through your thoughts. "Does that mean I also get given name privileges?"

Your senpai—Utahime-senpai, you correct—lets you go and nods at her friend.

You suppose it's only fair. "Of course… Shoko."

It feels unnatural, and you crinkle your nose at the discomfort that fills you. It's just a name, so you don't know why you react this way. Shoko-senpai laughs at the look on your face but settles on a soft smile.

Mei Mei links her arm with yours, leading you to the stairs that almost did you in the night before, as she says, "Not that this isn't a fun development, but I promised my dear kouhai a meal after graduation."

"With your own money?" Utahime-senpai asks incredulously.

"It's a special occasion," Mei Mei huffs, and you chuckle.

"Aw, I didn't know you cared so much, Mei Mei," Shoko-senpai croons as she takes you by your other arm, as Utahime takes her free one. It's nice being so close to them, almost like you're actually friends and not coworkers. Maybe you can be close to them now—they're not foolish like Shizuka was.

It'd be nice to have friends, you think wistfully.

"Contractually, she has to," you reply absentmindedly as you walk down the steps as an official sorceress. It doesn't feel any different than it has every time before, further solidifying your belief that your diploma was just a piece of paper, a useful one, but still something flimsy. It's not like you've accomplished anything worthwhile, only managed to survive as long as you did.

"Not anymore," Mei Mei replies rather blithely, as though she hasn't just stopped your heart with her words. "As of today, you are no longer under my supervision. The council has deemed you to be no longer a threat to jujutsu society. Congratulations."

"Oh," you say, taken aback. "Thank you, Mei Mei."

Your immediate reaction to her proclamation is resignation. Mei Mei is no longer being paid to be your minder anymore. She'll disappear from your life now that she isn't directly responsible for you. Sure, she'll keep an eye on you, but that's only because she's invested too much of her time and experience in you to let you drift away so easily. Then, you realize that Mei Mei wouldn't be beside you if that were the case, which means that maybe, just maybe, she does consider you more than an asset. She certainly wouldn't have brought Ui Ui if that were the case—or have prepared to take you to a lunch that she's paying for.

You are helpless to the giddy smile that grows on your face as that revelation washes over you.

"Oh, congrats," Shoko-senpai says. "However, I wasn't aware you were still on probation after your first year."

"Neither was I," Utahime says, perplexed.

You can understand their confusion, even if you don't want to explain. You will, though.

During your first year, you were always shadowed by Kento on missions and training, but by your second year, you had shown enough loyalty and kept your mouth shut well enough that you only needed to check in with Mei Mei a few times a week. Eventually, that became once a week, then biweekly, and finally, monthly. Now, you won't ever have to subject yourself to demeaning yourself in reports again.

"Ah, well, Mei Mei was always responsible for me, but during my first year, she was too busy to shadow me, so the council appointed somebody else to, who then reported back to Mei Mei about me."

"Busy with what?" Shoko-senpai asks. You pretend not to be grateful for her sticking to questions about Mei Mei. You don't like to be reminded of how flayed you felt after your reports before the council.

"My darling brother, of course," Mei Mei replies.

"A worthy reason as any," Utahime-senpai concludes, and you very consciously don't let out a sigh of relief, especially when the conversation doesn't continue.

Waiting at the end of your destination is a vehicle that will fit the six of you and more, a limo. You wonder if there will be champagne inside, and your stomach roils with aversion. You always overdo it these days. It's for the best if you stay away from alcohol for a while. Who knows what your loose lips may spill if you don't?

Ui Ui, the little gentleman that he is, holds open the door for everybody as they enter. He looks so dapper in his button-up shirt, suspenders, and perfectly creased shorts. You resist the urge to place a kiss upon his forehead, the way you had done for the twins. It's been years, yet this habit of mindless affection still persists. You suspect it always will.

By the time you're sitting down, Shoko-senpai has already popped open the complimentary bottle of champagne and poured herself a flute. She tilts her head your way, and you shake your head. She nods and busies herself with pouring one for Utahime-senpai, who has a hand out in wait.

You turn to Mei Mei, who is staring intently back at you. She smiles at you, not the sharp, inviting kind, but the one she usually directs at Ui Ui. Unbidden, you feel tears spring from your eyes. She grabs a handkerchief she pulls from her clutch and gently dabs at your eyes so as not to disturb your makeup further.

"Don't cry," Mei Mei hushes the same way she had when she first met you, coming upon the scene you had made.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me," you tell her softly, only a little choked. You only have eyes for her, so you're unsure how the others are reacting, but you hope they have the tact to at least give you a semblance of privacy.

"It's been a long four years, hasn't it?"

You nod slowly, uncertain of where she could be going with that non-sequitur.

"It'll be an even longer lifetime that you and I share," Mei Mei says confidently, and your heart skips in your chest. This is all you ever wanted from Mei Mei—confirmation that you're more than a paycheck to her. "Do be sure not to make me a liar."

"Of course, Mei Mei. You have my word," you swear. It's enough for your cursed energy to wrap around Mei Mei in a solemn vow. Her smile deepens at what you've given her, freely at that, but you've always lived for someone, and ever since Shizuka's death, you've felt unmoored. Mei Mei, though, has just tethered you back to reality, and you made it official.

You turn to look at the other girls, who are doing a good enough job at pretending they're discussing something else. It's not like you care whether or not they know how high you regard Mei Mei, especially since they're unlikely to report this development to the council members or one of their lackeys.

"So, where are we going?" Shoko-senpai asks once the lapse of silence goes on for too long. "If it's fine dining, I hope you're ready to pay for all of us."

Utahime-senpai scratches the back of her neck, cheeks red, as she agrees, "I don't make much either."

Mei Mei huffs. "I'm not made of money."

"Yes, you are," Shoko-senpai deadpans.

"Didn't I give you a piggy bank a few years ago? Have you not been saving?" Mei Mei asks rather cattily.

"Why should I have been when I've got a walking and talking one, and it's right in front of me?" Shoko-senpai bats her eyelashes before saying, "Oink Oink, Mei Mei."

"Sho, let's not antagonize her," Utahime-senpai says, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Oh?"

"It's a good thing you still have my card," you interject before Mei Mei can respond to Shoko-senpai's baiting, and you see her eyes light up in delight.

"And that's why you're my favorite rich person," Shoko-senpai praises.

"Leech," Mei Mei scoffs.

"Innovative," Shoko-senpai corrects, and it draws a laugh from you and Utahime-senpai.

Yes, you think fondly as they go back and forth, this will work out.

-

(2014, March)

Kyoto is different. 

You can’t yet decide if you like it. It doesn’t feel like home to you, but that was the purpose of this move. Nothing is familiar here; you can make new memories without the reminder of old ones. Only, you miss the bustling city you grew up in, the cafes you used to frequent, the gardens you used to stroll in, and the boutiques and high-end stores you used to shop at.

However, Kyoto brings you a sense of peace that Tokyo never allowed, and for the first time in years, you don't go out to party every weekend. You only drink occasionally now, usually only when you're out with your friends—and how nice it is actually to be friends with your seniors—which is about once a month, given how chaotic everyone's schedules are.

You miss Shizuka like a limb, always aware of what you've lost, but it no longer affects you every hour of the day. You don't feel like an open wound all the time anymore, only sometimes, and even then, it's not so bad. You used to pick your scabs when you were younger, prodding them even as they healed, and thinking of your dead best friend reminds you of that. It may always hurt to think of her, but you're no longer bitter.

To live with such a heavy emotion is a burden you can no longer carry. You only hope Shizuka forgives your initial anger when you eventually meet her again—if you meet her. You choose to believe you will, though, because it is otherwise too depressing a reality.

Utahime, throughout all of this, has been a balm upon your broken heart. It is thanks to her that you haven't fallen into a self-destructive spiral. She keeps you in check with nothing but a stern but caring demeanor. She reminds you a bit of your old senpai, and maybe that's why you so easily gravitate towards her.

Of course, another benefit to living here is that you're much closer to one of your patron goddess's shrines, not that you never took the trip before. It's just a much shorter one, so you visit at the start of every month. You always feel more settled after praying before her.

In another life, you think you could have been a miko—could have been content with the simple lifestyle, but this is not that lifetime. You prefer this one, anyway, despite all that you've had to endure.

It isn't—wasn't all bad; the good exists.

Sometimes it's hard to remember that, even when experiencing it.

Tragedy has befallen you time and time again, but without each, you doubt you would have ever known the joy and pleasure you did and currently do.

It's worth the pain and the misery.

You wouldn't give up jujutsu if it meant your life could be easy—you wouldn't be a sorceress if you wanted easy. You love being one—love the strength it gives you, the friends you've made, and ridding the world of scum.

Nothing could ever be more fulfilling.

-

"So, I've been wondering," Shoko starts, a few drinks in, which can't lead to anything good. She's a blunt woman, so that she's been holding a thought back doesn't mean anything good. "Why haven't you given Kusakabe a chance? You seemed to like him that one time he bumped into us."

Utahime bobs her head excitedly. "And he definitely likes you."

You resist the urge to groan, even though Mei Mei isn't here to scold you for it. You were right in assuming Shoko was going to ask a hard question. You don't want to be dishonest, but there are some things meant just for you.

"I'm just not looking for anything serious right now."

Utahime waggles her eyebrows, a little bit of her cocktail splashing as she leans in to whisper drunkenly, "Who said it had to be serious? He's not my type, but even I can admit he's handsome."

"Seconding that," Shoko says, taking a sip from her third mug of beer.

Even after a year of being their friend, you still find that their frankness flusters you. It's not like you're some blushing virgin, but these are still your senpai—which is hypocritical considering…

"Eh, I'd rather not risk our current relationship becoming awkward. Finding a decent sparring partner is harder than you'd think," you reply, neatly sidestepping the real answer. "Besides, I'm happy with sticking to non-sorcerers for a night or two."

"If you say so," Utahime trails off.

Shoko's eyes narrow at you, and you try not to flinch under her imposing stare. She has a surprisingly good poker face. You can never read her as well as you do others.

"You're not hung up on anyone, are you… Maiko?"

At that familiar name, you startle. Shoko has never called you that before. You hadn't even known she knew it.

A smirk curls on her face, which means that whatever is on your face must give you away.

Shoko stays quiet for the rest of that night, but she knows that you know she knows about your attachment to Nanami Kento.

When it's time to go your different ways, Shoko pulls you aside and says, "You should let him go."

You give her a small smile. "If only it were that easy."

-

(2014, September)

Missions, as always, are consistent. You rarely get a mission that goes above your current grade, and you're uncertain whether that's a good thing or not. On one hand, it means that you haven't done anything to garner the council's wrath, but on the other, they could be lulling you into a false sense of security. Either one is insulting when you know it's because the elders wish to keep you confined to a lower social circle. Perhaps it would be best to accept this with your head down, lest you lose it as Shizuka did, but it continues to grate on you.

Had you been a male, your past trespasses would have been forgiven by now, but you're not.

Sometimes, when it's necessary to report to them, you fantasize about slaughtering every single elder who condemns you as they criticize your every choice.

Shizuka was the only one you could share these thoughts with, and she's gone. You have nothing left of her, just your memories and photos. It's not enough—not when she's meant to be by your side.

Her birthday is coming up soon, and like the previous year, you grow more melancholic the closer it gets. Your days pass in an unyielding haze, as you daydream about how different your life would be had she survived. You request a string of missions so you can keep busy—be exhausted enough to stay dreamless.

It's for that reason, after a long day of exorcising nests of lower-grade spirits, that you completely miss the Innate Domain you step into, and when you do realize, you've already drawn the cursed spirit's attention. This close, it's obvious that it's either a grade one or a Special Grade on the weaker side.

Despite knowing it's futile, you attempt to escape, but you find yourself running in circles.

Your inner monologue is just a running stream of fucks as a dark, amorphous spirit creeps down the corner of the hallway you're in.

"Come… join… me," it beckons.

You don't let it make the first attack and whip out your tessen from their holsters and direct a blast of pure cursed energy at it. The spirit doesn't budge and continues to edge towards you, so you activate your innate technique, dancing in long, sweeping movements. It stops its approach, swaying to the rhythm of the bells attached to your tessen's tassels. Loading a higher amount of cursed energy into your tessen, you flick it towards the spirit and watch as it takes a chunk from its abdomen.

However, now that the moment of enchantment is over, the cursed spirit realizes that you've hurt it and screeches in pain as it approaches you. Each blast of cursed energy you fling at it with your tessen barely affects it. You’re not cut out for this, especially as exhausted as you are.

There's no running away, let alone keeping it at a long-range distance. 

You must fight, or you'll die.

You wonder if Shizuka had this realization of whether her death had been instantaneous.

A sudden calm sweeps over you as you contemplate death, and the tinkling of bells and merry laughter echoes in the back of your mind.

An invisible force guides your hands to spread out with your thumbs and index fingers touching in a diamond shape.

Your mouth forms a phrase you've never uttered before.

"Heavenly Mirth."

Your surroundings transform immediately.

Before and all around you is a never-ending shore, gentle, glittering waves lapping at it. You sink into the sand as you adjust. A breeze carries the scent of salt and fresh air to your nose.

The sun is barely beginning to rise, bathing everything in soft oranges and pinks.

In the distance, where the sky is still dark, you think you see the shape of a boat.

The light of the dawn drowns the darkness, revealing the horrendous-looking cursed spirit bare to your eyes for the first time. It appears to be mostly human in form, with long swathes of patchy, dark hair falling from its grotesque, open head. It has too many eyes and mouths, and its limbs are in the wrong areas. The rest of its anatomy is what is usual for a cursed spirit—that is to say, completely unnatural.

Something compels you to dance, then, and you don't fight it, watching as the cursed spirit becomes mesmerized by your movements. Again, you feel a direction being aimed at you, and so you open your mouth and speak a final decree.

"Burn," you order.

Light begins to exit its extremities as it screeches once more, clawing at its own flesh, before it pops in a burst of flame.

You fall to the ground as you drop your domain, drained of nearly all of your cursed energy.

Your eyelids feel heavy, but you still dial Mei Mei's number. She'll know what to do. 

Something claps slowly, and you open your eyes to see Gojo Satoru.

"Aren't you an interesting one?" He says cheerily.

You've reached the hallucination stage of cursed energy depletion if you're imagining him of all people.

You look back down at your phone as it continues to ring, ignoring the hallucination. 

Mei Mei will be so angry if you die prematurely.

She picks up with her usual flair at this time of night. "What is it?"

You smile helplessly and manage to utter, "Help." 

I hope she forgives me if I die, you think as you succumb to darkness.

Briefly, you think someone lifts you into their arms, but that can't be right.

TAGLIST: @sosole @cherryblom @burningexpertjudgemug @piam69 @totallygyomeiswife @jades-bullshit @theetherealalchemist @sunflowers-body @oikawaheart @unknownfrrr @jimeg629 @callme-naomi @silkelysees @tenderstrike @anxiousyutsuki @blackityblackwoman @kwaters101 @cal-me-hoodious @lolidelrey7 @spicytteokbokki @deyokawaii-blog @that-salty-h0e @stubbornomega

[mournfulroses]

Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Leonard Woolf, featured in The Selected Letters of Virginia Woolf

[catchingfallingstars]

AN ANGEL IS NEAR M.LIST

♡ PAIRING: Jason Todd x Batsis!Reader

For all that your father preaches about never killing, you’ve never been particularly attached to the rule, though you did follow it religiously. However, when the Joker kills Jason, all bets are off. Of course, the consequences of cold-blooded murder mean that you’ve been forcibly retired, your family cannot stand to look at you, and most importantly, you have been put under lock and key, or as close as you can get to that in the modern age, especially when you're a beloved, local celebrity. You can live with that if it means your brother is rightfully avenged, but what are you to do when, a few years later, you gain a heart-achingly familiar stalker? You’d believe him a hallucination if he hadn’t swept you away from the only place you’ve called home.

♡ WARNINGS: (18+, minors dni) pseudo-incest, codependency, stalking, kidnapping, incest kink, identity issues, dubcon.

♡ STATUS: 1/5

♡ CHAPTERS:

♡ ONE

♡ TAGLIST: Interact with this post (like, comment, reblog) to be added!

[catchingfallingstars]

AN ANGEL IS NEAR | JASON TODD X READER ♥︎

♡ CHAPTER ONE: year two and three (year one and two)

♡ SYNOPSIS: When your dad summons you to meet the newest child he’s brought into your home, you accept it with grace. You don't expect to welcome him with open arms, but you do, and eventually, you welcome him into your heart as the brother you always wished for and welcome him by your side as the partner you never knew you wanted.

♡ WORD COUNT: 7K

♡ WARNINGS: eventual 18+, psuedo-incest, codependency, implied past rape.

♡ A.N: i've been working on this behemoth of a fic for longer than i'd like to admit, but i am so glad to finally share it, even if i'm only posting the first chapter. chapter two is twice this length, while three and four are around 10k, and the final chapter is currently 18k, but it's yet to be edited. we'll see when i post the next chapter, but hopefully it will be within a month but no promises. i play around a lot with canon in this fic, so don't expect there to be a specific timeline/canon i'm following. there will also be many literary references in this, so prepare to be sick of that, too. kudos to those who spot them all, be they obvious or not. also since i doubt i explicitly state it, reader is roughly one year younger than jason and has been out under batgirl's wing as cardinal for around a year at the beginning of this chapter. okay, i'm done now. i hope you enjoy!

AO3 ♡ M.LIST/TAGLIST ♡ NEXT

When your dad summons you to meet the newest child he’s brought into your home, you accept it with grace. The first time it happened with Dick was a complete nightmare—well, your reaction had been. You had not taken it well, especially when it became apparent that the boy had joined your dad’s nightly escapades. Now, though, you are much more level-headed and old enough to possess some degree of emotional maturity, so you merely stare at the boy who stares right back at you. You size each other up silently, circling one another like prey. 

He has the look of a street kid, scruffy and underfed despite having been newly clean. He's dressed in some of Dickie’s old clothes. He’s closer to your age than Dick’s, even though he appears younger, likely due to severe malnutrition. You wonder if he’s been offered anything to eat or drink yet. He looks like he could use it.

What must he glean from you as you currently are? There's no doubt in your mind that he knows who you are; everyone in Gotham knows who you are. Bruce Wayne's bastard was all everyone could talk about for months when you first entered your dad's care, but that was to be expected with how public your change in guardianship was. However, you don't look like that girl right now. It's just before breakfast, and so you're dressed in Wonder Woman pajamas and Superman socks, still halfway asleep. You're at ease while he… is not.

The boy—and you should really get his name—hunches further in on himself the longer you inspect him, and it hits you suddenly that it must feel like judgment—the kind he wouldn't want or deserve.

You introduce yourself quickly, holding your hand out, and he stares at you like you're an idiot.

"I know," he deadpans. Your eye twitches at his reply, and you drop your hand and cross your arms.

"This is the part where you introduce yourself, you know."

"I was under the assumption you already knew who I was," the boy remarks, his accent lending itself to the East End of Gotham. Given his appearance, it's not so surprising. His eyes slide to the side, and you follow their path to meet your dad's guilty gaze.

"Ah, sweetheart, this is Jason Todd, the boy I told you about," Dad says, his fingers slowly making the sign he created for go along.

"Oh, yes. Jason Todd, of course. How silly of me to forget," you respond dryly, and your dad sort of wilts. At least he knows you're a little irritated with him, but you won't take it out on the boy.

You turn to Jason Todd, apparently. Amusement colors his features, and there's a slight uptick to the corner of his mouth. For some strange reason, you want to see it become a full-blown smile, and you realize that you're already attached. It wasn't this easy with Dick, but there's something about Jason that speaks to you. Maybe it's just that you're missing the brother who suddenly abandoned you, and your dad has brought you a new one, but you think you'd be attached to him regardless of the circumstances.

You offer your arm out to Jason and ask, "It's nice to meet you, Jason. Say, are you hungry? Alfred is certain to have enough food for the two of us."

Tentatively, Jason nods and loops his arm through yours. He's significantly colder than you, so you tug him a little closer. He only flinches a little but accepts your touch. It makes your heart ache to imagine his life before now, but your dad brought him here, which can only mean one thing.

Jason is a Wayne now, your brother, and this time around, the boy your dad has brought home to you will have the name, too. You won't let him make the same mistake he did with Dick. Besides, Jason doesn't have the Grayson name to fall back upon as Dick did. You doubt there's anything for him to fall back on, so he must be given the Wayne name. You're more than willing to share it with Jason, even though you've just met him.

You march out of the room with him, turning back right before you exit and throwing your dad a nasty glare. He wilts some more. Good.

"You're the worst for springing this on us like this, but since you've brought him home, I'm keeping him. No take-backsies."

"No take-backsies," he repeats resignedly.

You nod swiftly. He understands your unspoken words. It's simply not the time for this conversation, and you're already not looking forward to how he'll attempt to weasel his way out of it. For now, though, you have your new brother to get to know.

Jason's ears are pink when you look at him, and it makes you smile. He averts his gaze suddenly and looks ahead as you guide him to the dining room, making note of what you'll say about the manor during the tour you'll give him later. A duty you'll be stealing from your dad and Alfred, both, the secret keepers they are.

"I meant what I said," you tell him quietly, voice barely above a whisper, but it rings through the hall. "You're here to stay, Jason."

He stiffens, halting in his steps. "You don't even know me."

You face him, observing the tick to his jaw and his almost glassy eyes. You want to hug him—Dick's habits are rubbing off on you—even though Jason would probably dodge your advances.

"I'd like to," you reply earnestly.

Jason flushes all over this time and looks ahead, so you take this as a sign to continue on your way to your destination.

"My favorite color is red," Jason blurts out a few moments later. "Cardinal red."

A smile creeps up on your face. "What a coincidence. So is mine."

Yes, Jason isn't going anywhere. Not if you have anything to say about it.

-

Months later, Jason Todd becomes Jason Todd-Wayne.

He also becomes Robin, but that's a story for another time.

What you take away from the entire situation is that he's known you were Cardinal since that very first meeting, which must mean that you're his favorite.

When you confront him about it during a spar, he turns that same bright red but admits that his words were both a nod to his knowledge of your secret identity and a way to say you were, indeed, his favorite. You preen a little at his confession.

There are so many others to pick, but he chose you; it's only fair you do the same, which is unequivocally true after all the months you've had to get to know him.

A grin spreads on your face as you launch yourself at him. He barely catches you in time, but you still both tumble onto the training mats. You end up on top of him and whisper in his ear, "Don't worry, Boy Wonder. You're my favorite, too."

If your words fluster him enough for you to disarm him, you don't mention it again… Well, only a little. It's cute how shy he gets when you tell him how much he means to you, but it's true, and he deserves to hear it. God only knows he never hears it enough, but that's what you're here for—one of many things, actually, but reassuring Jason that he has a place in your family is an important duty. In a short span of time, and possibly without your permission, Jason has become the most important person in your life.

The only other people who come close are Dickie and Barbie.

Barbara will always have your utmost regard for taking you under her wing, accepting you as her protege and little sister. Since Batgirl first appeared on Batman's radar, you've admired her. It took guts to do what she did with no support, and you thought her the coolest, much to Batman and Robin's consternation. You still do. She very well could have ignored your request the first time you approached her, but she didn't. It feels like a dream come true to fly the streets of Gotham with your idol, even now after years of knowing and working with her. There will always be some form of hero-worship in your heart for her, despite the mistakes she has made with you.

As for Dick, he will always be your brother, someone you can always rely on during your darkest hours. He is the first person who wasn't related to you that you let into your heart, and he doesn't take that lightly. You love him dearly, but he's always been out of reach, even when he lived at home full-time. You forgive him that and more; you are more than familiar with your dad's overbearingness.

As for Jason, it's different with him, given your close ages. He's as much your best friend as he is your brother, something nobody else can claim.

You're partners in (defeating) crime.

Hmm… now there's an idea. Unfortunately, it's much too early to leave your respective mentors. Dick didn't fly the coop until he was seventeen, but he had waited until he was nineteen to become Nightwing. Besides, both you and Jason have aspirations to complete college, unlike your wayward older brother, but there's no doubt in your mind that you both will return to Gotham in the end.

You're a near solo act, as you don't match any others' theme, so Cardinal you'll stay, but you'd like to be a duo. Jason won't be Robin forever, so he'll need a new identity. Something that goes well with red and stays consistent with the bird theme you've got going on.

It comes to you almost immediately, and it feels a bit on the nose, but Cardinal and Bluejay have a nice ring to it.

When you're older, you'll pitch it to Jason, whom you have no doubt will accept your proposal.

For now, it will remain a beckoning future that sings so sweetly in the back of your mind.

-

Despite crime-fighting taking up most of your free time, you are consistent with another extracurricular activity.

When you first arrived at the manor, you liked to explore its many rooms, and eventually, you found yourself in a ballroom with a grand piano. You had never played one before, but you liked the sound the keys made when you pressed them. It hadn't taken long for you to play a wonky version of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star by ear after playing with the keys for a while, which was when Alfred had found you.

You had immediately put your hands into your lap and apologized, but he had merely smiled and walked to sit beside you as he said, "It has been many years since someone has played in this home, Young Miss. Did you ever play while you were with your mother?"

You shook your head, and he had hummed. "I do believe you have a talent for it if this is your first time playing. Would you like to learn more?"

Reluctantly, you had nodded, and he had proceeded to teach you the piano's layout.

You've never looked back.

It is easily your favorite thing in the world, even if sometimes you're treated like a show pony at galas and other such events. You're Brucie Wayne's prodigal piano-playing daughter, after all. As much as you love the piano, it becomes tedious playing for a crowd who wouldn't know the difference between Chopin's Nocturne in C-Sharp Minor and Liszt's Un Suspiro. However, you enjoy it nonetheless because playing the piano has always brought you profound joy, especially when you don't make a mistake and the piece you've chosen sounds as beautiful as it is meant to be.

You've finished your lesson for the day, your tutor long escorted out by Alfred, but you continue to play. It is nothing difficult, just a song from an animated movie you recently watched with your brother. Like with most pieces, you play for simple enjoyment, you do it by ear. It sounds incomplete with just the piano, so you harmonize with a quiet hum in place of the strings and woodwinds that are meant to go with it.

"Is that from the Ghibli movie we watched the other night?" Your brother suddenly asks, and you nearly jump out of your seat. You have a bad habit of not paying attention to your surroundings when playing, something Jason knows well and uses to his advantage, as his little smirk suggests.

"Yes," you answer, lifting your fingers from the keys and placing them in your lap, turning to look at him fully, heart racing with delayed fright perhaps.

"You know," Jason says, lifting the novel in his hand, "the book is nothing like the movie. It's much more fleshed out, Sophie in particular. I think you'd like it."

"Is that so? Well, hand it here," you reply, putting your hand out. Jason places it in your palm as he slides right next to you, resting his head on your shoulder. He's grown much in his days at the Manor, but not enough to reach your height. You hope he never does. It's nice not to be the smallest one of the family, age notwithstanding.

"You've been practicing those finger exercises that I taught you, right?" He nods. "How about your scales?" He hesitates too long, and you groan. "I know it may seem like a waste of time, but it's important in the long run. It will help your technique, yes, but most importantly, it will grant you a better understanding of music."

"You're so lucky I like you," Jason mutters, sitting up properly and situating himself with his side of the piano.

"Yes, I am very fortuitous, indeed, to have a brother who wishes to play alongside me," you respond dryly as you flip the book over to read the synopsis to determine the differences between the adaptations. You do your best to hide the sincerity behind your words, but Jason hears it anyway because he smiles, crinkled eyes leaving the keys to meet your own for a brief, loaded moment. Your heart swells with fondness for him.

Jason plays through the major scales with near-perfect accuracy, stuttering a few times, even if his pace slows because of his mistakes, before he asks, "Not going to read it aloud for me?"

"Shouldn't you be focused on your practice?"

"I can multitask."

You open your closed eyes to glance at him from the corner of your eye. "Let's see if that's true."

Cracking open the novel, you begin to narrate as Jason picks up where he left off.

It is routine at this point.

You play, and he reads. He plays, and you read.

This is your shared respite from everything else.

Nothing exists but the words on the page and the keys being played.

Nothing but Jason and you.

-

Dick doesn't come home anymore, so it's up to you to visit him. It's not that he forgets about you, per se, just that you're too connected to your dad for him to want to spend time with you.

Anything to do with Bruce Wayne has been blocked from his mind, which includes you.

You won't lie.

It hurts—a lot.

You know it's nothing personal or against you, but it certainly feels like it. You miss your big brother, even when he's being a complete and total dick. It's bad enough that he's taking it out on you, but on Jason? You can understand the initial anger, but ultimately, it was Bruce who decided that Jason take on the Robin mantle. You had informed Dick as soon as it happened, hoping to lessen the hurt of someone assuming his previous mantle, but you might have made the situation worse.

Things are… okay between the two of them now, but only if you're there to mediate. It can be exhausting, especially when you know the two of them can get along—and well at that!

Half the time, you're tempted to lock the two of them in a closet to sort out their issues, but if that hadn't worked with Dick and your dad—and you had tried—then it likely wouldn't work with Dick and Jason.

Luckily, it's not just Dick you and Jason have to interact with when you visit him. There's the rest of the Titans, too, and though they're a little cold to Jason at first, out of loyalty to Dick, no doubt, they eventually warm up to him by the end of his first visit. If your cold shoulder hastens it, Jason doesn't notice, and that is what matters most.

Thankfully, Donna, wonderful, kind Donna, believes in his abilities from the start, even if she does compare him to Dick a little too much for your liking. Roy is kind to him from the beginning, too, and it doesn't escape your notice how Jason flushes around the older hero, just as it doesn't escape his notice how you do the same around Donna.

It's something both of you lament over during the mission and your short stay with the Titans afterwards, especially since they're both in committed relationships, Donna especially, no matter how hopeless your chances are. It's nice to talk about it with someone who understands and who won't judge, even if you both carefully tiptoe around the elephant in the room.

When it's time to leave, you're a little sad, even if you do miss Barbara, Alfred, and your dad. Being a part of a team where everyone is expected to pull their own weight is nice. Not that Batman and Batgirl don't do that, but at times, it feels like you're being treated with kid gloves, which grates. You're skilled and experienced, something the Titans respect, Dick especially. He's been in your place before, so he knows best.

Unbeknownst to you, Dick and Jason seem to have reached an understanding, and their jests are just that and no longer pointed jabs. It's a relief, a burden lifted from your shoulders, and you're maybe a little misty-eyed when Dick pulls you aside to apologize for his behavior. You forgive him, of course. You missed him too much not to, but you're usually the one who facilitates these conversations; it's a nice change of pace.

As you leave, you notice a girl with white hair staring at you from one of the windows. You'll have to ask Dick who the new probationary member is before you return.

-

Batman is working a case with Batgirl tonight, so you’re partnered up with Robin. You're giddy with excitement at the notion. Your mood only improves the more you work together.

Working with Robin feels like a taste of what's to come, a future you keep close to your chest.

It’s a calm night, only a few crimes to stop and fewer to let slip by. Once, you may have equated all crime as bad, but that’s just your privilege speaking. Just as you've taught Jason plenty of things, he's done the same for you. You can afford to turn a blind eye to the children with nimble fingers.

What you can't do the same for is the sudden sound of a gunshot after hearing the pleas to stop, and skin slapping against skin echoing in an alleyway too far to reach in time.

When you arrive, you check whether the victim requires aid, while Robin checks on the perpetrator's status. It's not a fatal shot, so you reassure the girl—and it is a girl; she's too young to be a woman—that she won't be in trouble for this, but not before collecting the smoking gun from her hands and wrapping your cape around her to preserve her modesty. At the same time, Robin calls the police to pick up the rapist.

If he roughs him up some more, you certainly don't notice.

If it had been you in his position, well—but it wasn't, and that's what mattered.

The girl is unresponsive when you ask her if she has somewhere to go, so you move her away from the much older man. She starts to weep, kneeling on the ground with her head bowed down to you as she thanks you profusely while simultaneously begging for forgiveness. Your stomach twists with something you cannot name.

You kneel to her level, taking her hands into your own, and say, "You're safe now, and you did nothing wrong. You were protecting yourself in the only way you could. Don't apologize for that."

Your words seem to snap the girl out of her spiral, and she looks up at you with wide, teary eyes.

"But I… I shot him. I'm a horrible person, aren't I?"

You shake your head. "You aren't. You're a survivor, but if you fear being a horrible person because you believe you shot that man, don't. He was not a good man, and you merely protected yourself from further harm. You were so brave; you did the right thing."

A fresh wave of tears begins anew, and she throws herself into your arms.

"Thank you, Miss Cardinal. Thank you. Thank you."

"You're welcome, sweetheart," you whisper as you hold her gently. She is smaller than you, and tears sting your eyes, but you will them away. You can cry about this when you're home. Right now, this little girl needs you to be strong.

"Sweetheart—"

"Diana. My name is Diana," the girl—Diana interrupts quietly.

"Diana, then," you correct gently. "Did you know that Diana is also the name of the Roman goddess of the moon?"

She shakes her head, but her eyes belie her interest in the topic. You're glad to have distracted her from the horror she just endured.

"She was known to be a fierce huntress, and many viewed her as a figure of strength—just like you were tonight. She'd be as proud of you as I am."

"Really?" Diana asks, and if you could, you'd share Wonder Woman's name with her—if only because it's more relevant.

"Really."

She sniffles, "I want to go home now, Miss Cardinal."

"Okay, Diana. Do you know your address?"

She recites it, and it's only a few minutes away. It makes you wonder what she was doing out so late, but it doesn't matter. You only hope she doesn't go out alone this late again.

"Will you allow me to carry you home?"

She nods and says, "Yes, please. I want my sisters."

When you lift her, she is as light as a feather, and your heart breaks a little more. She wraps her arms around your neck, tucking her head into the crook of your neck. You inform Robin of your intentions through your comms, and he acknowledges it. You hear sirens in the background as you flit away.

You deliver her to a run-down apartment, and a door swings open to reveal two worried women you recognize as working girls. They're wide-eyed as they stare at the girl in your arms. It only takes a moment of realization for one of them to frantically yet gently take the girl.

"Diana!" One of them shouts, taking her in, while the other one leans towards you with horror written all over her face. "Was she—"

You grimace. "I got there as soon as I could, but I arrived too late. My partner is… taking care of the rapist. Diana won't need to testify to put him away."

Her lips wobble as tears gather in her eyes, but she nods firmly. "Thank you, Cardinal. We've got it from here." She pauses, hesitating before she closes the door on you. "Do you want your cape back?"

You shake your head and reply, "She can keep it."

By the time you exit the building, Robin is waiting for you on a nearby rooftop, feet dangling over the edge, a cigarette held loosely between two of his fingers. His face is grim, but he smiles halfheartedly at the sight of you. You return it as best you can and join him, choosing not to berate his bad habit like Batman would, leaning your head on his shoulder as you stare over Crime Alley.

Diana won't be punished for her actions, but she shouldn't have even been in a position where that was necessary. No one should be, but especially not children.

It's nights like these when you remember why you took up a cape.

Robin takes a drag from his cigarette, and you watch as the smoke he exhales drifts up and away from you. He's considerate like that.

"You good?"

"Yeah," Robin responds. After a beat, he continues, "Thanks for letting me take point on this one."

"No problem."

The moment feels charged, and you notice that Robin's hands are trembling. You take his free one and put it in your own, clasping it firmly. He looks at you, then, and whatever he sees makes his face tighten.

"Don't—I don't want to talk about it," he says tersely. "Ever."

"Okay," you agree softly, merely gripping his gloved palm tighter in support.

You sit in silence for a while after that before you choose to break it.

"Hey, do you want to do something fun?"

Robin perks up a little, making the hand motion to go on.

"Nightwing and I used to play a game called chase before we turned in for the night. The chaser had five minutes to catch the other before they became the chased. If you won before time ran out, you'd get a reward of your choosing from the other."

Robin grins. "Sounds fun. Is there a head start?"

You shake your head, and before you realize it, Robin is up and swinging away, his grapple latched onto a nearby roof.

"Catch me if you can," Robin taunts, turning back to waggle his fingers in a condescending wave.

"It's so on!" You reply as you chase after that yellow cape, a shining beacon in the dark.

As you suspected, Robin lasts the entire five minutes. It's his territory, after all, but it had been very close at times. Robin only won due to home advantage. As you climb the fire escape to where he's smugly grinning down at you, you wonder what would have happened if Jason had been that much quicker when Batman found him. You're glad you'll never have to know.

"So, I can choose anything? Even a favor?" Robin asks once you've reached him, rocking on his heels with hands clasped behind his back, practically vibrating with pride and excitement. It's not often he beats you at anything.

"Within reason, Robin," you reply, eyes narrowing at his seemingly innocent look.

"Hmm, I think I'll cash it in at a later date," Robins declares after a few moments of deliberation.

You groan, knowing this will likely come back to bite you in the ass later, but a deal is a deal.

"Fine, but remember—"

"Within reason. Yes, I know," Robin finishes.

He smiles wide enough to display his dimples, and something flutters in your chest. Delight, likely, since it wasn't too long ago that it was rare that you put a smile on his face so easily.

Suddenly, Batman's voice is in your ear.

"Cardinal and Robin, Batgirl and I have completed our task earlier than expected, so I will be coming to get both of you sooner than planned. Stay in your current general vicinity in the meantime."

"Copy that, Boss," Robin responds as you say, "Message received, B-Man."

Batman grunts in affirmation, and then he's gone.

"Damn," Robin sighs. "I was hoping we'd have more time to go visit the kids."

"Next time," you promise. "I'm sure they won't mind too much if we take a detour next patrol."

Robin extends his pinky towards you. "Pinky swear?"

"Pinky swear," you say as you intertwine your own with his own.

There are many things you have been ignorant of, but Robin has brought them to the forefront of your mind since his entrance into your life. He has a way of opening your eyes in a way nothing else has before. Simply put, he makes you a better person. You've known Park Row and the East End in general have been in dire straits for a while, but you never used to think of what could be done to improve it. Now, you've been brainstorming ways to use the Wayne fortune to do so.

The Martha Wayne Foundation does a lot of good work already, but it can always do more. You always assumed you'd take the CEO mantle from your dad when it became apparent Dick wasn't suited for it, but it never felt right. Instead, your passion lies in your dad's philanthropic work, something you share with Jason. Something Jason inspired in you. You've yet to inform your dad, but you suspect that he already knows. Still, you continue to show interest in his day-to-day work because Wayne Industries must stay within the family.

If your dad can do both, then so can you. Eventually.

There will be time to learn how he manages it all. The burden will be lessened with Jason taking the brunt of charity work, but you will assist him as much as possible. Hopefully, Dick can continue being the air-headed Richie the media knows and loves. He can take on the Brucie mantle. You can only take so much of that act before it wears on you, and you hide behind your performances half of the time. Jason, or Jay as the media knows him, is a mix between the two of you, but it comes to him more naturally than you. You are not nearly as charming as either of your brothers, but then, you'll be a woman in a male-dominated field, so perhaps it would be best to be the serious one in the group.

Of course, that is all in the distant future, but it's not wrong to make plans, even if they need to be improved upon when the time comes. It's better to be prepared than not. You've yet to instill that motto in Jason, but in reality, his brilliance shines in his quick decision-making and improvisation when necessary. It's what makes both of you such a good duo, in and out of costume.

One day, it will become a permanent arrangement. You can't wait for the day when it'll be you and Jason side by side every night. He'll be someone new, something he chose for himself, as you did at the very beginning.

Cardinal was always meant to go solo, to step out of the shadows of bats and take flight alone, but you didn't know then what you know now. You couldn't have possibly foreseen the impact Jason would have on your life when you first met him. You can't imagine a life without him anymore.

Everything revolves around him, and you know that that may be a foolish decision, but you can't let go. He wouldn't want you to, and you doubt you'd even be capable of setting him free. You've given him your name, your home, and your heart in the year or so you've known him. Sometimes, it even feels like you've given him your soul, or maybe he's just found a way to live there. You're content with either option, so long as he stays by your side.

There will come a time when he leaves, but he'll come back. You know it as sure as the sun sets each night and rises in the morning. You only hope he knows it's the same for you. He must, though.

Right?

The Batmobile appears in all its sleek glory before you can speak up. It blends into the damp, dark alleyway, and only the gleam of its clean surface gives it away. Right now, it's silent, but for specific chases, the roar of its engine can be heard to set the mood. How funny that even the cars contain multitudes.

When you're both in, Batman asks, "How was patrol tonight?"

"Mostly quiet. You'll read all about it in our reports later," you answer before Robin can. "Is it safe to assume that all went well with Batgirl?"

Batman nods. "We were able to determine the source and location of the upcoming shipment."

"Good work, B," Robin says in unison with you.

"Thanks, kids," Batman responds warmly, and the rest of the ride is spent in comfortable silence.

Robin leans his head on your shoulder once it becomes obvious that nothing is left to be said, taking your hand and squeezing it. You can't quite feel it, but you sense the warmth of the gesture.

Yes, you think, of course, Jason knows.

-

As music is your passion, theater is Jason's.

It had taken some convincing to get him to take the elective rather than something useful like a language, and even more so to audition for the school's autumn play when you found out just how much Jason enjoyed acting. He memorizes lines at the drop of a hat and seamlessly transforms into the characters he's depicting with the ease of a seasoned actor.

Jason is a triple threat, to top it off, a smooth, resonant tenor voice and impeccable control over his body that only training under someone as disciplined as Batman could provide, something that translates well to learning and embodying dance routines. With the lessons that your dad happily pays for and provides once you ask on your brother's behalf, Jason is a cut above the rest.

He is a star on the stage, and you are helpless to bask in the light he unknowingly exudes.

In your unbiased opinion, he is a generational talent, and you know that if he chooses to pursue this as a career, he'll be beyond successful, even discounting the fact that the Wayne name will undoubtedly boost him into fame and notoriety. You puff up with pride at the thought.

Everyone deserves to know how radiant Jason is, even if that means sharing him with the world.

As it is, Jason has shone as one of Brucie Wayne's children. He makes as many headlines as you do. Sometimes, your name is beside his on them. If you clip those for later use, alongside his accomplishments as both Jason Wayne and Robin, that's your business alone. However, it's one thing to share him with the East Coast; if he continues, his name and face will spread even further.

Then again, Jason is enamored with literature. He devours a dozen novels every week, and it seems like he never stops. He enjoys all kinds of books, from classics to contemporary, from horror to comedy, and from fiction to non-fiction. If it interests him, and many things do, he'll read it. Even if he ends up disliking it halfway through, he'll see it through. Though that's not to say he doesn't have his favorites; Jason is partial to Romance, capital R.

It is a rather endearing trait of his, and you say so one day as you practice the third movement of Beethoven's Hammerklavier as he reads—or rather, rereads Mary Shelley's Frankenstein.

Jason flushes, the tips of his ears and the apple of his cheeks turning a becoming red. He is expressive in a way your other family members aren't. Sure, Dick can be approachable, but it's always a performance with your eldest brother and always a matter of control with your dad, and that's not to mention Alfred, who is a master of composure. Jason, though, wears his heart on his sleeve. It's another thing you find endearing about him, but then, there are many aspects of Jason you find sweet.

"Why do you like it so much?"

Jason doesn't hesitate to reply to your question.

"It's an emotionally driven genre, which I find to be more interesting than the rationalistic movement that came before it, and well, everything after it too. Not that there's anything wrong with everything else, but when I read these novels, I can easily put myself in the characters' shoes and experience their anguish and euphoria with them, as it is often the extremes characters are put through in this genre."

It is a succinct answer, but you suspect there's more to share, so you stare at him blankly. He groans and puts his face in his hands and sighs, "I enjoy the supernatural elements, too, and how everyone is almost always miserable."

You grin. "There's the brother I know and love. Should you ever publish a novel, I know exactly what to expect of it."

He brings his head up and looks between the gaps of his fingers as he murmurs, "You think I could?"

"Definitely. You certainly have the creativity and imagination to write something eye-catching, and you know I'll support your every endeavor."

Jason removes his hands from his face and shoots you a smile. It's crooked but charismatically so. It won't be long before the masses deem it to be alluring, especially with his dimples so pronounced. Soon, you and your dad will be beating off the boys and girls with sticks to keep them away from Jason. Your brother is sensitive at heart and doesn't deserve to have his heart broken by a fling looking to attach themselves to the Wayne name. You could only do so much for Dick at your young age, but you're older now, and much more intimidating.

"Thanks," he chirps before reluctantly asking, "Do you think Dad feels the same?"

You snort, "Of course he does. I actually think he's secretly hoping you become one so you don't travel far from home." He tilts his head in confusion, so you elaborate, "Well, if you choose to become an actor, you'll be traveling all over, or at the very least, you'll be in New York City, which is too far for Dad's taste. You know how he is with Dick, and Dick only lives over there half the time, while the other half, he's in Blud, which is, again, still too far for Dad."

"Yeah, that sounds right," Jason laughs before he turns serious again. "I really don't know what I want to do. I like theater, but I also like reading and writing." You note his slip-up in the back of your mind because that means he does have something down. His shoulders droop as he shares, "I wish I were more like you. You seem to know exactly what it is that you want and how you're going to get it."

Standing up from your bench, you walk to the chaise Jason's resting on and sit beside him, knocking your knee against him as you slip your palm into his own.

"I have had many years to decide what I want to do and plan for it, while you've really only had a year and some change, Jay, and there's nothing wrong with not knowing." He gives you a look at that, and you can't help but chuckle. "Okay, well, I don't like knowing because I inherited Dad's particular neuroses, but that's just me. And him. Maybe Dick, too." You shake your head, realizing your current train of thought isn't helping. "I'm getting off track, but what I was trying to get at is that you have time to make a decision, and unlike before, you have something to fall back on and keep you afloat. Besides, who says you can't pursue both? And more, if you like."

Jason smiles softly once you've finished speaking and leans up to hug you; you return it eagerly. He isn't as touch-starved as he was when he first arrived, but moments like these, when he reaches out, you will always reach back.

"I really needed to hear that. I've been spiraling about it for a while now. You always seem to know the right things to calm me down, so thank you."

"Always, Jason."

Just like that, the conversation topic is shelved for a later date. Your brother can only take so much of being confronted with his new wealth and what that entails before he shuts down. He'll understand one day, and you'll be ready to help him when that happens.

"So, do you wanna read to me?" You ask as you situate yourself on top of him, resting your head on his chest, curling towards him on your side. It's a tighter fit than the first time you did this, and you find yourself a little sad that it'll be too small once you reach your next growth spurt.

"Are you sure you don't want to practice more before patrol?" He asks, and you nod, closing your eyes. It's not like what you're learning is for a recital; it's more of a test of your current skill level and a challenge to boot. "Do you want me to start from the beginning?"

"No, start where you left off. I'm well acquainted with the story by now, so I won't be lost."

"If you say so…"

Your brother clears his throat and begins, "He called out, 'Be calm! I beg you to hear me before you give way to your hatred. Have I not suffered enough already? Life, although it may only be an accumulation of suffering, is dear to me, and I will defend it. Remember, you have made me more powerful than yourself. I am taller than you—and stronger. I will not be tempted to fight with you. I am your creature, and I will be kind and affectionate to you if you will also perform your part…"

You fall asleep to your brother's evocative storytelling and dream that you are the creature's maker, accepting him in all his monstrous glory.

He is your creation, after all.

[princessofnecro-deactivated2025]

would you fuck me on my autopsy table or do you hate me

[catchingfallingstars]

can you write some jason or dick x batmom with groping because jason or dick wants to piss bruce off? thank u so much

this is not exactly the prompt but this remains in the same vein!

[catchingfallingstars]

now that i’ve written about being dick’s mom, i can now write about being his little sister. dick deserves to be a siscon. in my mind he’s caleb-adjacent in that sense.

[catchingfallingstars]

THIS LOVE I HAVE | DICK GRAYSON X READER ♥︎

♡ SYNOPSIS: Bruce is terrible with his words, so it's up to you to reassure your son that he is loved.

♡ WORD COUNT: 1.5k

♡ WARNINGS: 18+, pseudo-incest, poly batfam, pussyjob, voyeurism, implied brujaydickreader.

♡ A.N: I wrote this in like two hours bc I drank 2 bottles of wine and got horny about being Dick’s mom.

AO3 ♡ WRITING TAG ♡ REQUEST ME

Someone slips into bed with you quietly, and at first, you think it's your husband, but then, you feel the weight of them drape against your back. Bruce is too large to feel so slight, and Jason is too slender to be that tall, so it must be Dick. He tucks his chin on your shoulder, breathing deeply into the crook of your neck. You shiver when he presses a kiss there.

"Something wrong, sweetheart?" You mumble, eyes still closed, not quite willing to wake up if the situation can be handled after you've gotten a few hours of sleep.

"Can't it be that I just missed you?" He murmurs against your pulse, mouthing there as he presses his bulge against you. You're surprised he's even wearing anything. He sleeps in the nude, and he came here with a motive, one you easily deduce.

"It could be, but I know you, Dick," you reply, grabbing the hand he had snaked around your waist and bringing it to your mouth, kissing his scraped knuckles one by one. He melts into your touch, gluing himself to your back. "However, I will say that I missed you, too, sweetie. It's been too long since you've been home."

"Well at least someone missed me," your son says petulantly. You feel his lips shape into a pout. You'd turn over to kiss it away if he'd let you, but then, you'd be fully awake.

Ah, you think as his words register in your mind, of course, Bruce is being an ass.

"You know how terrible your father is with words, Dick. Believe me when I say that he did miss you while you were away. Besides, you know Alfred and Jason missed you, too."

Dick's other hand curls under you to play with your hip, stroking it softly, his fingers playing with the band of your panties every so often. Heat spreads from your belly down to your cunt. You're not slick yet, but if he keeps teasing you, you will be.

"Well, Alfred actually tells me these things, and Jason doesn't count. He always misses me," Dick responds, as if he doesn't encourage his brother's infatuation with him. He bites over the near-faded marks Bruce gave you the other night, replacing them with his own, like the possessive boy-now-man you know and love. The hand at your waist travels up towards your chest, roughly groping your breast, his thumb and forefinger playing with your nipple.

You squirm at the sensation, letting out quick puffs of breath, and his other hand goes for the remaining breast.

You sigh softly when he lets up on the intensity of his attention, his touch becoming tender once more.

"Mm, I won't apologize for him since he's a big boy, but I suppose I can comfort you. That's what you're looking for, right, sweetheart? A little love from Mama?"

You turn your head back to look at him, and he nods, whining when you grab him by his curls to kiss him. It's sloppy and wet, but it's perfect. Dick is always so eager to kiss you, something Jason picked up from him.

Resigning yourself to not catching any more sleep, you flip over and straddle your baby's hips, and his cock twitches from their confines. You rectify that immediately by pulling them down to free his hard, leaking cock. It's far prettier than your husband's, something you both acknowledge, but not nearly as thick. You place one hand on his firm chest to steady yourself, and his hands instinctively grip your hips. His cock drags against your clothed cunt, an obstacle you forget about, but Dick, the problem-solver he is, merely lets go of you and rips the lace panties apart like a piece of paper. So much for high-end durability, but then again, your boy is quite strong.

You tsk. "Those were for the ones you got me for my birthday this year. I really liked them."

"I'll replace them. I always do." Dick grins, the handsome, infuriating one that sends butterflies fluttering throughout your stomach. How lucky you are that no matter how many times he leaves, he always comes back to you. He latches his hands back on your hips.

You love him dearly. You say so, the declaration comes out easily, and Dick returns it just as quickly and just as fondly. How Bruce is unable to speak three measly words when he feels the emotion behind them so deeply will never cease to amaze you.

You cup your son's cheek, and he rushes up to meet you, expectedly, kissing you enthusiastically. At the same time, you begin to rock your hips against Dick's cock. He moans obscenely into your mouth, and you're no better, doing the same as the tip of his cock slides against your clit.

It continues like this for what feels like an eternity, mouth against mouth and hips to hips as you both relish in the warmth and pleasure the other brings.

When Dick's hips begin to stutter, you know your son won't last much longer. He knows it too because he suddenly whines, "Mama, I'm so close. Please, can I—ah—Mom, please!"

"Just a little bit longer, baby," you reply hoarsely, back arching as the familiar feeling of an impending orgasm rushes through you.

You lean back to ride him in earnest. Your pace quickens into something clumsy, then, and Dick cries beneath you, his nails digging into your hips, and it hurts, but it's the good kind. The pain is enough to send you over the edge with a cry of his name on your lips. He keeps you upright as you ride the waves of pleasure that crash into you, and you're trembling a little when you come back to reality, to Dick sloppily rutting up into your wet folds.

"Oh, baby, you're doing so good for Mama. You're such a good boy—my good boy," you coo, and Dick keens at the praise, and you can recognize how close he is to unraveling

"Mom—Mama, I can't—I'm gonna—"

Before he can disobey you, you order, "Cum for me, baby."

Dick tenses beneath you, cock throbbing against your cunt, and suddenly, hot, thick ropes of cum splatter on your cunt and lower abdomen until eventually they peter out into droplets dripping down his length. He makes a mess, one you'll leave for the morning. Sleep is still within reach, after all, especially after such a great orgasm.

You rub against him, spreading his cum further on both of you, as you press kisses all over his face until he's back with you. It's only when he responds to a kiss you press to his lips that you open your eyes again.

Your boy smiles lazily, eyes drooping as he stares up at you lovingly, and he murmurs, "What a nice welcome home. Thanks, Mom."

"Anytime, sweetheart," you reply quietly, rolling off him to lie beside him. He doesn't move, and you realize that he'll be sleeping with you for the night. Not that you'd ever kick him out, but lately, Dick has been keeping Jason company when he's over, and before that, he thought himself too old for such things. Tonight, Bruce can take over that duty because you're not letting go of Dick tonight. His breaths become deeper as you rearrange him so that his head rests on your chest. It's as you do so that you see your husband leaning against the bathroom doorframe. He's dark-eyed and visibly hard. An aroused shiver goes through you at the sight of him.

"Creeper," you accuse, playing with Dick's hair mindlessly as he pretends to sleep. "You been there long?"

"Long enough," Bruce replies.

"Well, I hope you have some words for your son in the morning," you say pointedly, gently kissing the crown of your son's head. He smells like your shampoo. "Our actions can only do so much in the absence of words."

He begins, "I know, but he—"

"Ah-ah-ah, I don't want to hear about your nighttime life, Bruce. Talk about it with Dick in the morning. I have no quarrel with our son, just as you don't either. You can't just be Batman with him, like I've told you time and time before."

Bruce nods, and you know that a reconciliation will occur in the morning. Unfortunately, it won't be long before your two oldest boys butt heads again. Oh well. At least, Jason doesn't cause problems. He's such a sweet boy, which only means he's going to do something even more drastic than leaving home to form his own team of superheroes when he starts to act out.

"Goodnight, Bruce. Go keep Jason company," you mumble, closing your eyes and snuggling further into Dick.

"I love you," your husband says as he leaves.

"Love you, too. Tell Jason, too."

"I will."

The bedroom door closes, and as you expected, Dick whispers, "Love you, Mom."

"And I love you the most."

[catchingfallingstars]

your jayroy x reader ideas are both so good and ik you’ve said that you prefer to write dark content in the past but i feel like the romcom in your style would go SO hard

honestly, you are so right. as much as i love dark content, i deserve something light and fluffy every once in a while which is what the jayroy x reader romcom would be. i can see it so clearly in my mind. maybe once i’ve finished a good portion of my many, many wips…. oh who am i kidding? i’ll probably write a good chunk soon and then leave it for a rainy day LMAO

[catchingfallingstars]

i need dick finger fucking you with your bf in the other room yes PLWASE

this inspired me so much i changed my most recent fic to fit this ask so i can write a part two that is specifically this concept skfjksksksksjs

[catchingfallingstars]

hiii, not a question but i read about your chemo and i hope youre feeling better! i cannot imagine what going through that is like but i hope nothing but good things happen! on another note, i just read your losing dogs posts and im so devastatingly in love with it i really hope you continue losing dogs, it is so hauntingly beautiful and your writing style is amazing!

omg thank you so much. you’re so kind and sweet. i am doing a lot better these days especially now that i am officially in remission! i also got some good news last week, so my life is pretty awesome rn!

as for losing dogs, again, thank you. it’s such a precious fic to me, and i’m so glad that i’m able to put to words the emotions and relationships i wish to convey. it’s not a light story at all, and that it’s treated with gravitas means the world to me. and i am still writing it. i’m almost done with the next three chapters so by then, i’ll hopefully pull off a biweekly schedule since the rest are halfway complete. i have some time off next month so we’ll see how that goes!

[catchingfallingstars]

ohh love i LOVE your dick and jason things and thoughts aaa please anytime you have something in mind just drop it because it's perfect

THANK YOUUUUU!!! they are everything to me… i wanna be their sister so bad and do wicked things to them ❤️

[catchingfallingstars]

woahhhh i came back to 400 followers!!!! welcome fellow freaks!! i got lost in the brujay and dickjay sauce for a bit, but i am back to my x reader ways <3

[catchingfallingstars]

TOUCH YOURSELF AFTER HOURS | DICK GRAYSON X READER ♥︎

♡ SYNOPSIS: Everyone knows that an open window is an invitation, so it’s really not Dick’s fault when he sees something he shouldn’t when he checks up on you after a patrol.

♡ WORD COUNT: 3.7K

♡ WARNINGS: 18+, non-consensual voyeurism, semi-public masturbation, dubious consent, emotional infidelity.

♡ A.N: Haha, long time no see... It's been a while huh, and although this is a million years later, here this finally is! I've been working on my other supposedly Kinktober fics, too, but I got sucked back into characterxcharacter hell so xreaders went on the backburner. Never fear because I am back in the groove again! This just happened to be the one I finished first while writing the longer ones (like why is one at 30k UGHHHHH). Anyway, Dick is kinda the worst yet best in this one, a mess one might say. I hope you enjoy !

AO3 ♡ KINKTOBER M.LIST

Everyone knows that an open window is an invitation, so it’s really not Dick’s fault when he hears something he shouldn’t when he checks up on you after a patrol.

It's not like he's unwelcome in your home, even if you have adjusted your boundaries now that you have a boyfriend. It's both for your privacy and his protection because you don't want him to happen upon anything untoward, and so that your boyfriend doesn't happen upon Nightwing. It's sweet, but that there are times when he is barred from you inexplicably grates at him, especially since the reason is for some boy you've only known for a year.

Dick should be the priority; you've been best friends for more than a decade now. He's been number one in your life for so long that playing second fiddle all of a sudden feels like a grave insult. He knows that what he's feeling is irrational, yet it does nothing to stop the resentment bubbling beneath his skin.

It's not as though you've changed how you interact with him. If anything, you've gone out of your way to show that you still appreciate him, something that bothers your boyfriend. He's accidentally walked in on a few arguments about how you treat him and how he believes Dick is in love with you, which is just untrue. He loves you, true, but only as best friends do. Your boyfriend just doesn't understand the bond you share with him. He could never comprehend the way your lives have been entwined, and selfishly, Dick wishes he never will.

Maybe that makes Dick a terrible best friend, but he's only looking out for you. He already knows that this boyfriend won't last much longer. You can only tolerate so much possessiveness coming from a place of insecurity, and this latest boyfriend of yours has swathes of it. It won't be long before you drop him, even if you do actually like this one, for some peculiar reason.

"He makes me laugh," you explained one night with a fond smile on your face, one usually reserved for him, when he asked as if the act was something special, when Dick made you laugh all the time. It was infuriating—how low your standards were. The bar was on the floor, one that Dick could easily vault without breaking a sweat, and one your boyfriend would quite literally stumble on. Alas, Dick isn't the type to but into your affairs, not anymore. You've both learned that lesson early on and thoroughly.

Dick is getting off track, though. He should stop thinking about the two of you when he should only be thinking about you. He knows for a fact that your boyfriend is out of town for the weekend, off to visit his brother and his wife, from what Dick managed to glean from some logical deduction, which means you're undoubtedly alone. It's been too long since the two of you had a movie night, and well, he's missed you. It feels like he never sees you anymore, despite how you never fail to meet up at his favorite coffee shop every morning; it's not enough.

So, yes, Dick is currently on your fire escape, lurking right out your open window. Your curtains are haphazardly drawn closed, which is to say they don't conceal your bedroom whatsoever. He can see your bed through their gap, which is to say he can see you perfectly.

Water droplets cling to the surface of your skin. He is helplessly drawn to the few on your neck that travel down and past the warped collar of your shirt, which is, unfortunately, obscuring their final destination from him, but it brings his attention to just what it is you have on.

You're wearing one of his shirts, purposefully oversized for when he injures himself. He knows that it only just reaches the tops of your thighs. It's decorated with his emblem, and it definitely does not do anything to his psyche to see you in his colors. You probably just grabbed the first shirt you saw, something he's seen you do plenty of times.

There's absolutely no reason for Dick to look deeper into the reasoning for your choice when there's not one. He could probably be successful in doing so if it weren't for what he sees when he looks further down your body.

Your legs are spread wide open, leaving nothing to the imagination. He's gotten glimpses of your bare body before, as all best friends eventually do. It's also a hazard of his chosen nightly profession. You've seen him naked more than he's seen you naked, but never in circumstances like this.

What lies between your thighs is mostly hidden by a bright blue rabbit vibrator—more of his color, Dick can't help but note—that you rub against your clit in purposeful, drawn-out strokes. Even in the dim light, he sees the sheen of your slick on the toy and on your folds, suggesting that you've been at this for some time. Your head is thrown to the side against your pillow, face scrunched in pleasure as teeth dig into your bottom lip, and flushed so prettily all over.

Dick stands outside your window like a creep, in a stupor at the scene before him. He blinks, and nothing changes. You're still teasing yourself, unabashed and unaware of his presence. Nothing could have ever prepared him for this. Objectively, it makes sense for you to masturbate—everyone does it—but Dick has never thought of you as a sexual being.

Sure, he's seen you in provocative outfits, but he's worn less—or nothing at all in some cases. He knows that you've had a few partners over the years—has had the distinct displeasure of meeting them—so obviously, at some point, you must have had some experience. Hell, just recently, he's seen evidence in the form of hickies on your neck and glimpsed some beneath your collar.

All of that doesn't change the fact that you've always been in the off-limits category, unlike some of his other best friends. You came before all of them, his first friend after Bruce took him in, but not once did he look to you in a sexual or romantic sense when he grew a little older. Why would he have when he had a plethora of others who shared his burden to turn to? You were a civilian first in his eyes back then, which he knows is cruel, but it was just the way he was. It's different now that you know his secret, but that doesn't mean he ever changed the way he thought of you in this way.

For a long time, you've been slotted as a hybrid of sibling and best friend in his mind, but with the way his mouth has suddenly dried up and how his protective cup is more uncomfortable than it should be, Dick knows that that isn't true anymore.

He won't be able to not think of this whenever he sees you from now on.

You moan quietly, and it brings him out of his thoughts, not that he had ever looked away since he first laid his eyes on you. Your dominant hand picks up speed as the other hand goes under your shirt to play with your soft chest.

"Haah, c'mon," you whine breathlessly in a way he's never heard before, voice still quiet but thunderous to Dick's ears. He wants to hear more—until your noises are ingrained in the grooves of his brain. He knows that your huffy little puffs of breath will echo in his mind the next time he touches himself. As soon as he gets to his apartment, he'll probably shuck off his suit in a hurry and wrap a hand around his length as he imagines your cute little moans, your flexing thighs, the glimmering curls around your slit. He'll never forget this moment.

Dick is intimately familiar with the way a person looks when they're close, and you're almost there. Your body is stiff and tense as it prepares for an orgasm, toes curled and thighs trembling minutely.

"Yes, yes, yes," you chant beneath your breath, and Dick should leave. It's bad enough he's seen you in the throes of passion, but witnessing you climax is definitely taking it too far. He loosens his grip on your windowsill, taking a step back with every intention to go back to his apartment, when you fling the hand— and subsequently, the rabbit vibe—pleasuring yourself away, and you let out a frustrated, "Fuck!"

Your entire body arches, hips jerking forward as if to chase the sensation you've denied yourself. You bring the toy back, sliding it between your folds and bumping it against your clit just as quickly as you stopped, only this time you're rougher and move your hips in tandem with your strokes. A few seconds later, you're gasping, eyes staring at the ceiling, and then you stop once more.

Letting out a shaky breath, your body sags back into your bed as you catch your breath.

You blink a few times, then close your eyes again and click a button on the toy. It begins to vibrate, and you press the toy's head against your hole. You give a full-body shiver, but that doesn't stop you from pushing it inside of you.

"Oh, God. Fuck," you whimper, your free hand clenched in your sheets as the other slowly shoves the toy deeper within you. "'s too much."

Even though your toy is no longer unobstructed, Dick can still hear the vibration of it. It just sounds a little quieter, more bass-like, from how far it is in. He can't even blame the sound on the two little prongs that make this particular vibrator a rabbit one. It only gets louder when your thumb presses its button, upping the ante even as it has you flinch and hiss painfully in overstimulation. You begin to thrust it in and out of you, and he is assaulted with obscene, slick noises produced solely thanks to how wet you are.

Dick becomes aware of his deathly-tight grip on your windowsill, and he very carefully lets go of it. He also becomes aware of just how uncomfortably his cup is when he's really raring to go. At this stage, he would have already stripped himself of his clothes, but Dick could still be seen by anyone, lurking outside a random citizen's window like a creep, so he doesn't do anything about it. Well, kind of. He presses one of his—now free—hands over his bulge and bites back the groan that threatens to escape him over the arousal that little touch gave him.

He knows that he should be gone—that he's seen far more than what is appropriate or what you would have wanted him to. While you may not be as vigilant as he is, it's only a matter of time before you feel eyes on you. It doesn't matter that you're currently consumed by your need to edge yourself endlessly; you'll eventually look up and see Dick right outside your window. He's invading your privacy in a way he never has before as he continues to watch.

He should feel terrible about his actions, about being a complete and utter voyeur to your late-night activities, but he can't bring himself to care. Not when it allows him to witness you in a new and inviting light. He doesn't want to brush this aside, but if you catch him like this, he's not sure how you'll react. Dick has done a lot of fucked up shit to you over the years, things you have forgiven him for, but this may just be your single, most significant boundary, and here he is, trampling carelessly over it.

"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck," you cry, drawing his attention back to the way you're fucking yourself with wild abandon. The little ears bump against your clit with each roll of your hips. Your head is thrown back against your pillow, displaying the unmarked column of your neck. The water droplets from earlier have all dried, but there's a slight sheen to you, a thin layer of sweat from your little performance. You've never looked better, but he knows that can change; he just needs to join you—

Except he can't because you have a stupid fucking boyfriend that makes you laugh; what a joke.

You have a boyfriend who's lasted longer than all the others before him; not so much a joke, but a miracle because you're so damned picky—yet somehow, you still ended up with some loser. Sure, his expiration date is coming up soon, but not soon enough.

Oh, fuck, Dick thinks, repeating your whine in his mind, as he finally reaches the reason for his perverse behavior—the reason he thinks none of your partners have ever been enough for you.

Dick is gone on you.

In hindsight, it's so glaringly obvious. He's been jealous of your partner for taking you away from him and possessive of you, as if you belong to him, which is certainly a thought. One that appeals to his animal hindbrain, the one that keeps his eyes focused on you as you reach for a crescendo that you'll deny yourself of once again.

Well, Dick is good at rolling with punches, and this quiet revelation is akin to a punch to the throat or the crotch, in that it's taken his breath away and left him wanting to fall to his knees. He can't, though, not without alerting you, something he definitely shouldn't do, or he'll do something foolish. Who knows how you'll react to his presence? Dick knows how he wants you to respond, but it's unlikely you will.

A noise escapes you, high, needy, and louder than all the others, and Dick's attention is snapped right back to the present. Your body is taut, your wrist working the toy in and out of you hurriedly. You're at the precipice again, and he's unsure of whether or not you'll finally grant yourself the release you so wretchedly want. You've already denied yourself six times since he began to watch, so surely, you're nearing your limit. He should do something about his achingly hard cock, palm it some more, if not take himself into hand, but he only wants to cum when you do. It feels more fair that way, not that any of what he's doing can be categorised as fair. No, Dick can admit he's pulling a—hah—dick move.

He can feel himself straining uncomfortably against his suit, and maybe it is a little foolish to follow the lead of his other head, but he can't help himself. Rather, he won't help himself. Or at least not logically. He slips his hand into his bottom, stroking himself from base to tip. He barely suppresses his moan as your shirt—his shirt—skirts up your stomach as you jerk around helplessly in anticipation, and even more of your body is bare to his eyes.

It's really a shame he disabled his domino camera for the night when he first arrived, and doing so would only further violate your privacy, which he has done enough. His memory will have to do for now until he can have you in person and not through fantasy and stolen moments like this.

Dick swipes his tongue across his teeth. It's not enough to simply look. He wants to taste and touch, to feel and be connected with you. He wants his body pressed so close against yours so that there's no space between you both. He wants to roam his hands all over your body, to discover your most sensitive areas, ones that not even you have found. He wants to kiss you all over, starting from your mouth, languidly exploring the soft, warm cavern, swallowing down your spit, and nipping at your luscious lips, and working his way down. He wants to press deep inside you, forever altering your body to be molded perfectly to the shape of his cock. He wants to leave his mark on you and have you leave your mark in return.

"Oh, oh, oh," you meekly whimper. It seems like all the fight has left you, and he thinks that this must finally be it—the moment he's been waiting for all along.

Your mouth is slightly ajar, eyes closed lightly, chest heaving with puffs of breath, unusually quiet in your pleasure, which is why Dick is certain that this is the time you'll allow yourself release. He wishes you weren't, but your hushed hedonism is just as precious as your unfettered pleasure.

"Please, gimme more," you beg, Dick your sole audience. He could help you—could bring you to new heights—if only you just let him.

Your toes curl into the mattress, eyes screwed shut as you keep your head faced towards the ceiling, and Dick watches, matching your desperate strokes.

Suddenly, you keen, and Dick's vision blacks out because he hears an anguished, needy, "Dick," fall from your lips.

Like a coward, he chances a glance at you, and you're not looking at him at all. Your legs are twitching as if unsure whether they should close or spread wider as you up the speed on the toy once more.

"Dick, please," you moan, breathless, little ah-ah-ahs escaping you as your hole twitches around the rabbit vibe. You gasp, "Dickie," as you finally cum on your seventh round of near-orgasms.

Dickie, you moaned, something you only call him at your most emotional, your most vulnerable. So, of course, it's unsurprising that this is what causes his orgasm. It crashes over him suddenly, as unexpectedly as the way his name fell from your lips in place of your boyfriend's. He's made a mess of his suit, but better his suit than your fire-escape and your window. Bruce taught him better than to be careless with his DNA, after all.

Dick slumps against the wall with one forearm while his other hand stays down his pants, still eagle-eyed as he watches your thighs and hips shake from the aftershocks. In the haze of his own climax, it seems you have turned off the vibration, but despite that, your cunt throbs relentlessly around the toy, making up for every denial. Slick drips from your cunt onto the sheets beneath, covering the electric blue toy with a glossy finish.

It's a beautiful sight, your heaving chest as you ride out the waves of pleasure, your flushed face, your gleaming cunt, your lips as they shape his name over and over again—

And, oh, fuck.

You want him in return. You must, if it's his name you call for as you fuck yourself. It's him you imagine as you tease yourself, his hand touching you, pleasing you, ruining you—

You want him.

How long, he can't help but wonder like the masochist he is, longing to torture himself with the knowledge that you've desired him for longer than Dick has—not that that is saying much considering that he only realised his feelings for you the moment he saw you bare in a sexual setting. He's the worst for that, and he knows once he's had longer to sit on this, he's going to feel even worse as he dissects past interactions for the moment your feelings changed for him.

It doesn't matter in the long run, though, because Dick knows now. He can do something about this. Perhaps not now, no matter how tempting you currently are, but soon. It won't be hard to get rid of the obstacle that's in the way of your everlasting affection.

A shrill ringtone interrupts his thoughts. Your eyes shoot open, still trained to the ceiling as you exhale a quiet fuck. Dick ducks down to the ground silently before you can catch a glimpse of him. He hears you fumble to grab your phone off the nightstand, and this is his chance to slip away, but he doesn't.

What's one more stolen moment of privacy?

"Hey, I'm good, yeah. Just getting ready for bed," you say, tone nothing like the breathy, needy one from just minutes before. You hum, like you're agreeing to whatever your boyfriend is saying. He grinds his teeth in annoyance at the reminder that you can't immediately be his. "I'll be there. Don't worry. Now, get some sleep." You laugh at whatever he replies with, a genuine one he pulls so easily from you, just like you said he did.

"Yeah, yeah, I love you, too. Goodnight."

Dick has known you for years, knows your tells and each inflection of your voice to determine that you're being genuine when you say you love him. It shouldn't feel like a betrayal, but it does. It's unfair of him, but Dick has always been a terribly selfish man.

You were his first, just as he was yours. He staked his claim early on, so why does it feel like he's losing it? You called his name, but it's not him your declarations of love belong to. It's not Dick you give your smiles and laughter to in the early mornings and late nights. He's an inconsiderate fool for not onsidering you earlier, but you've always been there—his one constant, his North star.

How could he not have seen it sooner? Had he, and he had ignored it?

Did he take you for granted?

Your bed creaks as you most likely sit up.

So slight that Dick barely picks it up, you let out a choked, "I'm so fucked."

A hysterical laugh escapes you, and Dick's chest burns as it evolves into soft cries.

He wants to comfort you, but he's a part of the problem. He'd only make it worse by pretending to appear by chance. It'd make him feel even more like a scumbag than he already does.

Dick slips away unnoticed, a plan to make things right forming in the back of his mind, very resolutely disregarding how devastated you sounded when he left.

♡ Taglist: @allybabyvera @poopooindamouf @blorbofrommyshow @jademwahh @bhyancinth @tiredhoeoclock @bnghvn @cctoma @koga-aya @yursadreamer @spicyscorpioo @darcishaven @ginnyxauthor @yuki-off @b4bydo1l @0velvet-verse0 @beguiling7 @jazzy-wazzy-snazzy @the-maladaptive-daydreamers @mochien0tfound @goggined @bbatzvil @pennamebowie @miuangel @edszn @daiyanomochi @pur-ple-moon-light-blog @yay1031 @suckmytoes12 @hxrryst @bunniesbunz @toxicvoidsstuff @stargirrlmel @poisenedghosts @meixiulee @roar2-0 @tough-kookies-blog

[catchingfallingstars]

your brujay au for an angel is near is driving me insane. the incest goes hard. just know that i will be your number one supporter if you do decide to work on it 🧎🏽‍♀️

the incest really does go hard in that au especially because in that specific one, brujay was a thing that actually happened before his death. i shan’t elaborate more bc like if i do, it’ll become one of my white whales, much like my high school sweethearts to lovers jason x reader that is probably never reaching the light of day 😭

[catchingfallingstars]

do you have specific playlists for all your fics???

not for all of them, just the long ones! however, i also have character playlists that i listen to as i write one-offs.