Jay’s Little Sanctuary

| Asexual | 20 | She/her | Feel free to chat with me about whatever. Everyone is welcome :333 (If you’re a sweet person who watched sitcoms like F.R.I.E.N.D.S, Brooklyn Nine-Nine, and How I met your mother, and have a good sense of humor, don’t be shy to send a message :))

[debonairprincesposts]

Sup bitches! I’m back! And now with a new hyper fixation! Yay me! Wanna guess what it is?

It’s Jason Todd!

(Sorry guys. No more Hazbin Hotel)

I don’t even know how I got into it. I don’t even read the comics. Just watched “Batman: Under The Red Hood” and just instantly fell in love. Also the amount of fanfiction I’ve been consuming is unhealthy. So-

I’ve got like a ton of ideas that I put through Ai for this (I was bored and in desperate need for Jason content) so I just made it myself (kinda).

So imma post most of them here for shits n giggles. And ones that I’ve written myself as well.

If y’all got any ideas that you want turned into a oneshot please be sure to send a request. And I’ll do my best! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Have fun!!!

Master Post

[peachesandfictionalmen]

Jason Todd x best friend!paramedic!reader- gn

You always supposed you and Jason had become so close simply because your schedules synced.

You both occupied so much of the night you were bound to run into each other eventually. Sharing burgers and stories on rooftops with this man who is so gentle yet domineering to most helped to break up the graveyard shifts.

Your shared laughter broke the silence of lonely nights between calls and crimes.

The Red Hood quickly became a familiar face when he had helped you up to a rooftop or carry a patient and saved your life a dozen or so times. But you only got so close after you had to save him, hiding your identity becomes considerably harder when you’ve got a gunshot wound and a nasty concussion.

After that Jason sought out your company freely, and it started a rooftop routine that quickly turned into a friendship. Eventually Jason was cooking meals in your kitchen because he says leftovers are better than ramen every night, and having karaoke dancing parties in your living room. Spontaneous movie nights (more accurately mornings) that have your legs draped across Jason’s lap, him massaging your calves with his restless hands.

At some point Jason started being there all the time, he filled your nights and joined you the mornings that your friends couldn’t make brunch or when you both just needed the company. He became a constant comfort, the man your friends teased you about, a presence you craved when he was gone, and even though his smirk could make your stomach flip, neither of you wanted to risk your friendship to turn it into more.

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

It was one of those nights were you trudge up to your apartment at the end of a draining shift and fall straight into bed, assuming you make it that far. Swinging your front door open after fumbling with the key in the lock, the first thing you notice is the breeze that flows through the apartment. A chill going down your spine as the air hits you, you notice the open living room window. You carefully put down your work duffel, scanning the apartment with the flashlight off your belt, you find the answer to the open window.

A pair of familiar black boots, the same ones that normally end up next to your shoes at the door, give way to the rest of the familiar man, Jason, slumped over your coffee table in his currently disheveled Red Hood suit.

"hey doc" Jason lets out a grumble as he tries to move, the cuts across his body becoming more obvious as he clamors.

"careful, careful" You move to turn on the coffee table lamp before helping him get to the couch "sit, i'll grab my kit" sighing as your body wakes up from its groggy state.

Coming back to the couch you kneel in front of Jason to start with the wounds on his legs after making sure he didn't have any major injuries. "you gonna tell me what happened?" He was fine a couple of hours ago, when he'd brought you coffee between calls.

"Just a few scuffs s' all, i'm okay" He shifts on the couch at the sting of antiseptic.

"it looks like more than a few scuffs to me-" You continue to dab antiseptic into the wounds, noticing that a few might need to be stitched since their open and weeping.

"the guy was fond of knives" Jason shifts again, stiffly reaching over to push the hair out of your face. He hooks his finger behind your ear, lingering longer than necessary before leaning back. "thanks doc, i apologize for the intrusion."

You scoff lightly "Jay, you damn near live here, your hardly intruding." You finish one leg and start carefully looking over the other.

"I love you" He whispers it as casually as if he'd been asking what you wanted for dinner.

You glance up at him, startled, because you've never heard those words come from him, he's never used the word love towards anything. "love you too Jay", you try not to sound too nervous or desperate as your voice warbles with the unfamiliar phase, hands continuing to dab antiseptic at dried blood.

"no", suddenly your being hoisted up from your crouched position and into Jason's wide lap, his gun holsters digging into the side of your thighs. His calloused fingertips incline your chin so you're meeting his eyes. "i mean, I. Love. You." He punctuates each word and you're sure you've never heard him sound so scared.

Your hand settles against his chest and you feel every breath he takes. The familiar scent of leather, cologne and night air envelops you and you blink, finally responding. "I love you too"

His lips meet yours softly, like he's afraid you'll crumble. His grip on you tightens as you respond to the kiss and when your lips part from each other he lays his forehead against yours, repeating himself like the beginning of a mantra, "I love you".

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[peachesandfictionalmen]

Best friends to lovers with Jason Todd is so swoon worthy.

Like getting close to this man that hardly trusts anyone? Jason is so friends to lovers coded it's crazy.

This bitch is the type to cook you meals while you sit on the counter, doesn't matter who's apartment your in.

Finding him curled up on your couch because he was distressed after patrol and when he got there you were already asleep. Him staying anyway because your smell comforts him? I'm fucking deceased.

Falling asleep casually draped over each other while watching a movie. Him massaging the leg you have draped over his lap because he needs something to do with his hands.

This man is so awkward when it comes to crushing too. Like sure he can be smooth with the ladies, but being around someone he's in love with? Please. I swear he'd go as far as practically acting like your boyfriend. He'd be bringing you your favorite snacks, taking you on bike rides, helping you clean your apartment, going out to eat with you, all the while trying to act like he doesn't blush when you smile at him, because there's no way you'd like him back, right?

He'd be so confused if you started trying to drop hints too, like oh, your just wearing his jacket because your cold. His favorite hoodie is definitely not at your place. You just like rubbing his shoulders because you know how tight his muscles get and feel bad for him, no other reason. You only keep his favorite tea at your place because it's convenient, right?

I think you could wave a sign at this man that says 'I LOVE YOU, PLEASE KISS ME' and he'd suddenly become illiterate.

There'd be so many awkward, blushing, almost severely intimate moments too. The cuddles and brushes in the kitchen, hanging on too tight when he takes a turn on his bike, him brushing the hair out of your face, him watching as you put on makeup or are focused on something.

One day, while he's cooking and your sitting on the counter talking, you just get fed up with dropping hints and when he turns and is standing next to your spot on the counter, you just grab him. You just grasp his cheek gently and pull him in for a kiss, he's so stunned he doesn't respond right away. You pull away, half panicking, thinking you actually read him wrong and he finally blinks, cupping your cheeks in his hands and pulling you in to kiss you for real because, finally.

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[peachesandfictionalmen]

Masterlist

Jason Todd.

Best Friends to lovers!

Best Friend Paramedic!Reader-GN

Paramedic!Neighbor!Reader

Headcannons (PT.1?)

Bucky Barnes.

Cuddles

Jacob Black

The Natural Path

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[debonairprincesposts]

My little girl asks me if she can have another piece of bread. How painful it is when a small piece of bread turns into a dream, and an innocent child's desire turns into an unbearable burden. I see my daughters losing a lot of weight. My 12-year-old daughter weighs 22 kg, and the other is 7 years old and weighs 15 kg. My heart is heavy with sadness, searching for a way out of an ordeal that only good people can see. Please donate to save my daughters. Unfortunately, donations during this time are very few, and I am frustrated.

….

[debonairprincesposts]

Worst Day

Summary: Jason is having a very bad day. Luckily for him, you’re there to make it better.

Warning: Blood, cannon typical violence, cussing.

Words: 1.6k

Jason is having the worst day- no, the worst month of his life. Day of his death excluded.

He had gone off the grid for a month on an undercover mission to snuff out some trafficking ring, and it could not have gone any worse.

First, his position got exposed. It's like they already knew that he was coming. There's a rat among his men, and he plans on making them regret the day that they decided to cross him.

Second, his comms were down. So even if he wanted to call for back-up, he couldn't. Thankfully, he got off mostly unscathed. A bullet wound to the shoulder and a sprained wrist, but he'll survive. He has had worse after all.

And third, when he finally came home, hoping for some cuddles and careful tending, you weren't there. You would always welcome him home with a smile and a kiss on the cheek then lead him to the bathroom to fuss over his wounds. He never really liked anyone fussing over him, it made him feel weak. Like he was nothing but a reckless child who was dumb enough to get himself blown up. But he had gotten used to you. Your touches, your presence, your love. He felt empty without your presence. It was why he tried to finish the mission as soon as possible. He would have made it home sooner if his plans weren't derailed.

Thanks so much, rat.

First thing he did was go to the kitchen. He would have called out, but his throat hurt from being choked earlier that day, bastards were pretty crafty.

There was a note on the fridge written in your handwriting. You always sent him texts and wrote him notes just in case he lost his phone and made it home when you weren't there so he wouldn't mindlessly panic at your absence. He finds it sweet that you always have him in mind.

Went for groceries, Brb!

                                 ~ Your Chipmunk :)

He smiled briefly at your note before wincing. His face was pretty bruised. His helmet had been sacrificed for the greater good of blowing up his enemies. So, he took a few blows to the face, it just meant more affection from you. He finds it a worthy sacrifice.

You'll be home soon. Might as well try to look presentable so you don't panic over his bloodied and disheveled appearance. He would call to let you know he was home, but his phone got blown to kingdom come.

And now he's sitting on your couch, trying to pull a bullet out of his shoulder with a sprained wrist. He's alone, miserable, and in pain. His day could not get any worse than this.

"Christ on a stick." Jason curses to himself. He just lodged the bullet even deeper in his shoulder. His wrist feels like it's on fire, he should probably put a brace on it before it gets even worse.

He sighs as he drops the tweezers. He grabs the wet paper towel he got from the kitchen to staunch the bleeding. He can't get anything done like this.

While he was rethinking his life choices, he heard the front door click before a voice announces "I'm home!".

Another thing he found sweet. You always announced yourself whenever you came home just in case he was there and so you don't startle him. You're so considerate, he almost feels bad that you're dating someone like him.

Almost.

You hadn't spent months showering him with love and affirmations just so he could go back to his old self who thinks he's undeserving of your love and acceptance. He does still think that way, just not as much as before. He honestly doesn't know what would have become of him if he hadn't met you.

A gasp startles him out of his thoughts. His head snapped up so fast that his vision started dotting around the edges for a second before settling.

Oh.

Oh, shit.

He thought he had more time to make himself look presentable, but he overestimated his ability to function with a nearly broken wrist. The pain was nothing new, he just couldn’t get his fingers steady enough to actually get the task done. He almost wanted to sigh. He really didn’t want to stress you out any more than you already were. Especially with upcoming deadline for your current work project. He’s been trying his best to stay out of your way, help when he can to make the pressure seem less daunting.

He can see all his efforts go down the drain from the expression you’re now wearing on your face at the sight of him. This time, he couldn’t stop the sigh from escaping his lips.

So, with a crooked grin that borders on a grimace, his voice rough, he said, “Welcome home, sweetheart. Had a good day, I take it?”

You instantly dropped the groceries and made your way to him, your face laced with mild panic, “Jay! Holy shit! What happened?!”

Your reaction was completely mild compared to what he had in mind. But, if you consider the fact that this wasn’t the first time that you had seen him like this, it would make sense that you wouldn’t panic as much since you got experience in how to handle the situation.

The first time you saw him bleeding out in your shared apartment, you instantly started panicking and crying. You genuinely thought that Jason was going to die. In your defense, from your perspective, it looked like the majority of the blood was supposed to be in him had been all over your floor. So, you couldn’t be blamed. After that night though, after an emotional and mentally taxing conversation, Jason had already informed you of what to do when that happens again.

““When”?! What do you mean “When”?!”

“It’s my job, chipmunk. I’m bound to get hurt at some point.”

After the initial panic, you had simmered down to your current state. You still worry, just not as frantic as your initial reaction. Which, thank goodness, he can’t handle to try to comfort you right now. His brain feels like it’s going to leak out from his ears.

Your hand takes over his in covering his bleeding shoulder. You’re looking at him like you’re expecting a response.

Oh, right. He hasn’t responded yet. He’s not sure what he can say to reassure you. To let you know that he’s fine and that it’s “just a scratch”.

His zoning out is starting to worry you even more. You snapping your fingers next to his ear brings him back to the present. When he focuses his vision, your worried face greets him.

When did you get this close? He should start paying attention to what you’re saying lest he makes you worry yourself into a panic.

“Hey, Jaybird. You with me?”

He takes a breath, shuddering at the softness of your voice, before he nods, “Yeah.” He swallows the accumulated saliva. Why is it getting harder to talk? “Yeah, ‘m still with you.”

You don’t seem all that convinced, but your more pressing concern is the hole in his shoulder. “Are there any other injuries I should know about?”

He nods after a few seconds of thought, “My wrist is sprained. And the bullet is still in my shoulder. You might need to take it out.”

You just nod and get to work. After washing your hands, you sterilize the tweezers he used earlier, since he threw them on the coffee table in a fit of frustration, and dig out the bullet in his shoulder. You’ll never get over the fact that he doesn’t even flinch when you’re sticking a piece of metal into his flesh. How much pain did he have to go through for him to think “this isn’t the worst I’ve had”. There’s definitely more to his story compared to what he shared, but you’ll wait for him to talk about it in his own time. You won’t bring it up if he doesn’t. As long as they’re not an immediate danger to him, he can keep his secrets.

After dealing with the wound on his shoulder, cleaning it, stitching it, bandaging it up, you move on to his wrist. You get up to fetch a wrist brace you kept around for this purpose and gently wrap his hand with it. Your touch is so soft, treating him with more gentleness than he deserves, that he wants to cry.

His silence is unusual. He’s usually cursing up a storm when a mission goes bad.

And Jason knows this. He knows that you’re going to overthink all sorts of things. So, all he does is grab your hand with his uninjured one and bring it up to his face to kiss your palm. You take the chance to cup his face with that hand before you lean in to kiss his bruised forehead.

From his position on the couch, and you standing between his legs, all his body could allow him to do is pull you a bit closer. Thankfully, you manage to take the hint and bring him into your embrace. He rests his head on your chest, your heartbeat a grounding sound. He only has one arm wrapped around you, the other too painful to move from his shot shoulder.

He sighs as he inhales your scent. If he gets to end up in your warm and gentle embrace every time he comes back from a mission, he doesn’t mind being all battered and bruised.

Just as he was about to relax into your hold, with your hand in his hair, an uninvited thought invaded him mind.

Ugh…

Bruce is gonna give him so much shit for the stunt he pulled.

Currently, he can’t bring himself to care. That’s future him’s problem.

“Welcome home, baby,” You whisper into his hair.

He hums, “Good to be home.” His arm tightens around your back a tad bit. “Missed you.”

You let out a breath. This man is gonna be the death of you. “Missed you too, Jaybean.”

Bruce can go shove it. He’s staying where he is. He’s taking a well deserved vacation. He’ll deal with the rat after.

[debonairprincesposts]

I’ve been going through my drafts for shits and giggles and found this five year old master piece. I found it hilarious and I wanted to share. The writing is kind of all over the place, it’s more of a summary of events that an actual story (more like just jotting down the idea before it could flee), but there are moments of dialogue that make it worth while.

Hope you enjoy it as much as I did while reading this.

This is a Kaeya x Oc fic.

Genre: Comedy, Drama, lighthearted, friends to lovers.

Word count: 2k or so words

Friends To Lovers

Name: Jingyu

Nickname: Jay

Weapon: Spear

Vision: Hydro

Real name: Nicolette belle (oc)

Back story: used to live in liyue but moved to mondstadt when she was 16 cuz overbearing mother, bossy spoiled older sister, and deadbeat father. She's an adventurer. She made a friend in Mond named Danielle. They were in Angel share with 2 other friends. Jay was feeling left out so she excused herself to leave. Went to the bar to pay for her drinks and that's how Jay met kaeya. Jay was 18 and Kaeya was 20. Friendship with Dannielle broke off when Jay was 20. Danielle had to move to Snezhnaya for business cuz of her dad. After that, they (Jay and Kaeya) became friends, and by extension Diluc as well. Now it's a common occurrence for Jay to meet up with kaeya at Angel's share. Her and Kaeya are absolute besties. He told her about how he's a spy as a joke while drunk, but she said she didn't care either way, "As long you have no intention to hurt anyone, I don't care what you are." Kaeya didn't expect her to take it seriously, but he then started to loosen up around her, and maybe developed a bit of a crush. This happened when Kaeya was 21 and Jay was 19.

Her and kaeya were out having lunch at good hunter (as friends) when a guy who knew her when she was younger (from liyue) came over to her table. He was there for business cuz he took over his family's business or whatever. He was shocked because of how hot Jay became and such. Jay was a bit chubby when she was younger. Guy wanted her to get with him cuz she was hot now and stuff while being all super close and touchy. Jay got mad then broke his toe with her heel (her boots have metal heels and tip). Bro obviously became a coward and stuff and started calling her a psycho. Then Jay threatened to cripple him if he ever got near her or her friends. That's how she got her vision. It materialized on the ground near her but she didn't notice it cuz she was too mad as she stormed off to Angel's Share. Kaeya picked it off the ground, rushed after her and gave it to her. She was all shocked n shit but accepted it. After witnessing that, Kaeya vowed to himself to never make her angry, ever.

After that, a life changing event took place. A new domain popped up. Turns out it was a time loop of sorts.

Jay went in with Diluc and Kaeya. Diluc got stuck in the time loop for 97 days. Jay got stuck for 3 years. So she decided to be a good sport about it and hone her hydro vision abilities. Kaeya, fortunately for him, wasnt included in the time loop experience. The domain was very picky it seems.

When Jay got out, the next day, Kaeya decided that life was too short so he was gonna confess before he's too late. So, the next day (right after leaving the domain), Jay has all this energy so she spent the entire day doing commissions, fighting ruin machines and all that as if on a sugar high. So kaeya didn't get the chance for that. So, next day, kaeya goes over to her house cuz he was concerned cuz he didn't see her outside at the normal time she normally would be. He knocks on her door, she tells him to come in, he then finds her in her room doing push-ups on the ground. She asks him to sit on her back for more weight distribution so he does.

Then they talk. He was concerned cuz she was in a time loop for 3 years and she seems to be completely chill regardless of that fact. She instead seems pretty happy about it. Cuz she became closer and bonded with Diluc more the first 97 days he was in there. He stopped remembering he was in a time loop by the 98th day so Jay figured he managed to get out. Each day she decided to spar with either Diluc or Kaeya (the ones from the time loop. Not the real ones). So she basically memorized their fighting style to the point she can fight both at the same time. She basically spent three years fighting them so it's not far fetched to say that she'd become stronger and better and be able to defeat them. She was basically able to get stronger overnight in the real world. Even if it didn't feel that way. So as she was done exercising, she cleans herself with her hydro vision then leads Kaeya to the kitchen for breakfast. They talk some more before he confessed.

"What would you do if I told you that I have feelings for you?" Asked Kaeya.

"Go out with you of course. Unless you only wanted to let me know and move on with it." Said Jay, while heating up the water to make coffee.

"I see," Said Kaeya with a smile. "Well, then would you do me the honor of going out with this humble knight?" He asked playfully with a dramatic bow.

Jay looked at him with slight shock then she smirked, "As long you don't mind dealing with all sort of mental issues, then you got me for life." She said as she passed him his coffee.

"I don't mind at all. We can help each other that way." Said Kaeya as he sipped his coffee.

Jay chuckled, "Sounds festive." She looks at him questioningly as she asked, "Have you dated anyone before?"

Kaeya shook his head, "No. Have you?"

"Nope," Jay said, popping the 'p'. "Noice! We both never dated before. High five!" Said Jay while raised her hand above the table for Kaeya.

Kaeya chuckled as he high fived her. 'Cute.' He thought.

And that is how they got together. Jay is 20 here, Kaeya is 22. Also the start of cannon. Cannon started like a few months after.

After liyue goes to shit and gets saved by the traveler, Jay gets a wedding invitation from her mother. Her and Kaeya go. Tho she told him not to dress up as a major "fuck you" and neither did she. She was only going for the food. They go to the wedding, her mother comes over to her after the 'I do's' and stuff and starts talking n shit.

"Oh darling! You look stunning! If I'd known you would look this good after running away, I would've sent you out long ago!"

Kaeya's eyebrows furrow slightly. Jay rolls her eyes. Kaeya can't believe his ears. This is Jay's mother?

"Good to know you haven't changed. Still care about your image more than your family, I see."

"And you're still as rebellious as ever. Y'know dear, it's not as charming when you're already a grown adult. Running away was already a terrible decision on your part. Best you snap out of it now."

Jay arched an eyebrow and looked at Kaeya as if to say 'see?'. Kaeya was now starting to see why Jay left.

"So you think me leaving was just an act of rebellion?" Jay asked.

"Why of course! What else could it be?"

Kaeya looked at Jay and whispered, "Maybe if you tell her why you left she would understand? Give her a chance."

Jay sighed and turned to her mother, "I left because you were completely overbearing and restricted my freedom. I was scorned by you for liking things that "weren't fit for nobles" or whatever. You laughed at me when I said I wanted to become an adventurer then said it wasn't "ladylike". You were anything but supportive. Do you still think that I acted out cuz I was being "rebellious"?"

Kaeya looked proud as Jay spoke.

"Still acting rebellious I see. It's really not a good look on you, dear."

Jay just shook her head in disappointment. She shrugged as she looked at Kaeya. "She's a lost cause." She mumbled, but Kaeya heard her perfectly fine.

She continued talking with her mother, who was basically insulting all of Jay's life choices.

"Stop it! Cease this act of rebellion this instant! You are an absolute disgrace to this family!"

Kaeya was just witnessing this with a shocked expression. Blinking in shock. How could a mother say that to her child. He was about to make a retort when Jay beat him to it.

"And that's why your ex husband left you," came Jay's instant response.

A grin threatened to cross kaeya's face. He almost choked on his spit. He but his tongue to keep silent.

Jay elbowed him as she saw how he was incredibly entertained. He was barely keeping himself together.

"Y-You! The audacity you have! I will not let you ruin my day! I suggest you get out of my sight! Humph!"

"Alright. But don't come crying to me asking for money when your conman of a husband steals all of yours."

"How dare you!"

Her older sister comes over and starts talking shit. After looking Kaeya up and down she said, "No way you scored someone that good looking. He must be dating you out of pity."

"And your "fiancé" is dating you for your money. At least mine actually likes me."

Dramatic and offended gasps ensue. Kaeya covers his mouth to hide the grin on his face. He was glad he came. This was unbelievably entertaining. He was ready to defend Jay at a moments notice. But it seemed like she didn't need his help after all. Wait... Did Jay indirectly call him her fiancé?

"Now if you'll excuse me, imma go eat your food and then leave."

Her mother tells her to wait and has a servant give her a letter.

"Consider this me officially disowning you." Her mother said with scorn.

"No need. I already disowned myself when I left years ago." Said Jay with a lazy grin. She snatched the letter, walked over to the food table stuffing a couple of stuff in her mouth then grabbed Kaeya's arm and dragged him out.

Fast forward, Kaeya and Jay are at Angel's Share with Diluc manning the bar that evening. Jay had the letter on the bar table while staring at it intensely. Kaeya was sitting on a stool next to her, "You'll burn holes into it if you keep staring at it like that, y'know."

Jay's eyes snap up at Kaeya, he flinched a bit in surprise but settled back into his chair.

"Let's make a bet," said Jay, "If what's in this envelope gives me an identity and or an existential crisis, you owe me a drink. If it doesn't, I owe you a drink. Deal?" Jay brings her hand out for a shake.

Kaeya shook her hand hesitantly. He's never wanted to win a bet this much before. He really hoped that Jay doesn't get a crisis of any sort. "For the sake of your sanity, I really hope you lose this bet."

Meanwhile Diluc was just looking at them like they were crazy. How much did he miss while those two were in liyue. And why are they just casually discussing these kinds of topics like they're nothing.

Jay opens the letter and it basically said how she was from Fontaine and her name isn't Jingliu, its actually Nicolette Belle and that she was dropped off as a baby in liyue and payed her new "family" to care for her until she was old enough to care for herself.

After reading Jay turn to Kaeya with a big grin on her face, "Ha! I was right! You owe me a drink!"

Diluc dropped a glass he was polishing in shock while Kaeya choked on his drink.

"W-What?" Kaeya coughed out as he turned to her.

Jay hands him the letter as she casually kicks her feet from her place on the stool.

"Sooo-.... Turns out my name is not Jingliu. I am not from Liyue. And my whole life was a lie! What fun!" Jay takes an obnoxious sip of her drink. "It's honestly starting to sound like a cliche really. So yay! I'm a Fontainian!"

Diluc and Kaeya share a concerned look. Any normal person would freak out about this but Jay seemed to be handling it pretty well. Matter of fact, she seemed to enjoy this?

"Hey, Jay?" Kaeya asked, brows slightly furrowed in concern.

"Sup?" Said Jay.

Kaeya hesitated for a bit before he asked, "How are you feeling about this?"

Jay snorted, "You shouldn't be so concerned. Something like this doesn't bother me. If anything, I'm just curious as to who my "parents" really are. That's all. Promise!" She reassured him with a smile.

Kaeya was still not convinced, but he accepted her answer anyway. Diluc on the other hand might be having a mild freak out in Jay's stead. When he woke up that morning this wasn't how he thought his day would go. This evening was getting even more absurd the more time goes by.

"So! I'll be going to Fonataine!"

Diluc broke the second glass of the evening. Kaeya almost fell out of his chair.

"Let's calm down now! No need to be impulsive. Why don't we think about this for a bit!" Kaeya tried to reason. He's usually the one encouraging others to make absurd choices. This is the first time he's ever tried or needed to talk down someone from making an impulsive decision before. It was all fun and games until the one making these decisions was his lover.

"What's there to think about? I wanna know who they are, and sitting here isn't gonna help me find out. So I'm gonna plan a trip to Fontaine! You're both more than welcome to join me!"

A bead of sweat dropped from Kaeya's forehead in slight exasperation. He sighed in resignation. Guess he's going to Fontaine. The things love makes people do. Diluc sent Kaeya a look of sympathy.

Good luck, brother.

Kaeya recognized that look. Looks like he's going alone. He sighed again. This was going to be a long trip.

[mo-shamiaa]

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[debonairprincesposts]

I just wanted to say that I read victorian glow recently and I got obsessed!! your story is so beautiful and sweet!! 🤍🤍

Tysm!!! Happy that you enjoyed it :333

[eng-fayez-1]

We’re still starving… Please don’t look away.

This is not just a photo. This is Gaza. This is our reality.

The girl in this image is one of thousands of children in Gaza suffering from severe malnutrition. Her fragile body is a silent scream — a reflection of the hunger, fear, and pain that haunt every corner of our lives.

She could be my daughter. She could be yours.

My name is Fayez, a father of three beautiful children. I live in Gaza, under the unrelenting siege and devastation of war.

Every day, we wake up not knowing if we’ll have food — not even bread or clean water.

The fear of bombs has been replaced by a greater fear: starvation.

I am not afraid to die from the airstrikes anymore. But I am terrified to watch my children die slowly from hunger. To hear them cry at night from empty stomachs, and have nothing to give them — that is a pain no parent should ever bear.

Please, I am begging you — if you are reading this, help me feed my children. Help save their lives. Any donation, no matter how small, can mean a meal, a lifeline, a moment of hope.

Please Donate now:👇👇 👇

Donate to In the Face of War: We Need Your Help to Survive, organized by Elham Abdelrahim

Hello everyone, my name is Elham' Abdelrahim I live in Los Angeles, … Elham Abdelrahim needs your support for In the Face of War: We Need Yo

.

Yes, I Will Donate 😭💔

Yes, I Will Reblog 😭💔

Voting ended onMay 29, 2025

💔 Don’t look away. Help us survive.

[debonairprincesposts]

OMGGG I love your writing so much!! Can't believe we are mutuals now!!<33

OMG girl same!!! :333

[debonairprincesposts]

Soft Tummy

Appreciation

Summary: Reader is insecure about their tummy. Jason notices.

Warning(s): Body insecurities. Don’t let anybody (especially yourself) tell you that you need to look a certain way for any reason. You’re beautiful just the way you are. And screw anybody who says otherwise.

Words: 896

The movie was some old, cheesy sci-fi flick you had insisted on watching. Jason usually hated this kind of stuff, but tonight, nestled on the couch with you curled up against his side, even laser battles and rubber-suited aliens couldn't ruin the mood. He had his arm wrapped around you, his hand resting comfortably on your hip, just enjoying the simple act of being close to you.

That's when he felt it.

You shifted slightly, a subtle movement that he almost missed. But then you did it again, pulling the hem of your oversized hoodie down, as if trying to cover something. He frowned slightly, his senses immediately on alert. Were you cold? Uncomfortable?

He glanced down at you, his eyes scanning your face. You were still watching the movie, your expression seemingly neutral, but he knew you too well. He could see the subtle tension in your jaw, the slight furrow in your brow. Something was bothering you.

He gently squeezed your hip, a silent question. "You okay, Chipmunk?" he murmured, his voice low so as not to disturb the movie.

You stiffened slightly, then forced a smile. "Yeah, fine. Just...a little warm, maybe."

He didn't believe you for a second. He knew that tone, that forced casualness. You were hiding something.

He decided to press, but gently. He shifted his position slightly, turning towards you so he could look you in the eye. "You sure? You seem a little...tense."

You avoided his gaze, focusing intently on the screen. "It's nothing, Jay. Really."

He knew better. He knew that you were insecure about your body, about the little bit of extra weight you carried around your middle. You'd mentioned it a few times, always in a self-deprecating way, always with a hint of sadness in your voice. He hated that you felt that way. He thought you were perfect, exactly as you were.

He decided to try a different approach. He gently lifted your hoodie, his fingers brushing against your skin. You flinched, your eyes widening in surprise.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice laced with concern. "What's this all about?"

You blushed, a deep crimson blush that spread across your cheeks. "Nothing," you mumbled, pulling the hoodie back down. "Just...leave it, okay?"

He wasn't going to leave it. He couldn't. He hated seeing you like this, so self-conscious, so unhappy with yourself. He knew how much you struggled with your body image, how much you compared yourself to the impossibly perfect images you saw in magazines and on TV. He wanted to tell you that those images were fake, that they were airbrushed and Photoshopped to within an inch of their lives, that they weren't real. But he knew that words weren't enough. He needed to show you, to make you understand how beautiful you were, exactly as you were.

He gently reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. He brought your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. "Baby," he said, his voice low and sincere. "You know I think you're beautiful, right? Exactly the way you are."

You looked at him, your eyes filled with disbelief. "You don't have to say that, Jay. I know I'm not...perfect."

He frowned. "Who said anything about perfect? Perfect is boring. You're way better than perfect. You're...you. And you're amazing."

He paused, searching for the right words. "Look," he said, "I love everything about you, sweetheart. Your laugh, your smile, your crazy ideas, your big heart. And yeah, I love your body too. Every curve, every bump, every little imperfection. It's all part of what makes you...you. And I wouldn't change a thing."

He gently squeezed your hand. "And besides," he added with a playful smirk, "I happen to be a big fan of soft tummies. They're perfect for cuddling."

You chuckled, a soft, hesitant sound, but it was a start. He could see the tension slowly begin to ease from your face.

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Seriously, doll. You're beautiful. Inside and out. Don't ever let anyone – especially yourself – tell you otherwise."

He kissed you then, a slow, tender kiss that conveyed all the love and affection he felt for you. He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. "Do you believe me?"

You nodded, a small, hesitant nod, but it was enough. He knew that you still had your doubts, that you still struggled with your insecurities. But he also knew that he had made a dent, that he had planted a seed of self-acceptance in your heart.

He wrapped his arms around you again, pulling you close. He rested his chin on top of your head, inhaling the scent of your hair. He didn't say anything, just held you tight, letting you know that he was there, that he loved you, that he would always be there for you, no matter what.

He knew that it would take time, that you wouldn't suddenly wake up tomorrow and love your body unconditionally. But he was patient. He would keep reminding you, keep showing you, keep loving you, until you finally believed it for yourself. Because that's what you did for the people you loved. You helped them see themselves the way you saw them – as beautiful, as amazing, as perfectly imperfect.

[debonairprincesposts]

Victorian Gloom

Summary: Jason is feeling down. You do your best to cheer him up.

Warning(s): None? Just Jason being depresso and reader being quirky.

Words: 1.4K

The weight of Gotham's perpetual darkness seemed to press particularly heavily upon Jason's shoulders that evening as he sat on the worn leather couch in the apartment he shared with you. His fingers absently traced the frayed edges of a bullet hole in his brown leather jacket currently in his hands (he's out of his suit), a tangible reminder of another night where death had danced too close for comfort. The flickering streetlight outside cast irregular shadows through the partially drawn curtains, matching the turbulent thoughts that churned within his mind.

Jason's broad shoulders hunched forward, his usual commanding presence diminished by the demons that chose this quiet moment to rear their ugly heads. The night's patrol had been rough – not because of any particular violence or danger, but because of the haunting similarities between a young boy he'd saved and his own past self. The child's frightened eyes, the bruises that told stories of abuse, the stubborn determination to survive – it had all hit too close to home, stirring up memories he preferred to keep buried beneath layers of anger and sarcasm.

He didn't immediately notice your presence, too lost in his own thoughts to register the soft padding of your feet across your apartment's wooden floors. It wasn't until you cleared your throat with an unusually theatrical flair that his teal eyes lifted from their fixed stare at the floor. The sight that greeted him momentarily shocked his system out of its downward spiral.

You stood before him with perfect posture, one hand placed delicately upon your chest while the other was raised in an elegant gesture that would have looked more at home in a Shakespeare play. The transformation in your bearing was so sudden and complete that Jason found himself blinking rapidly, wondering if his dark thoughts had somehow transported him into an alternate reality.

"Dearest sir," you began, your voice taking on an affected accent that wavered somewhere between Victorian propriety and fantasy realm nobility, "methinks thou art bearing a burden most grievous upon thy noble shoulders this eve."

Despite himself, Jason felt the corner of his mouth twitch upward. "Baby, what are you-"

"Hush, good sir!" you interrupted with an elaborate wave of your hand. "I shall not stand idly by while my beloved knight drowns in melancholy most foul." You glided forward – actually glided, somehow making your movement appear as though you were floating across the floor in an invisible ball gown rather than wearing sweatpants and one of his old t-shirts.

The absurdity of the situation began to crack through Jason's dark mood like sunshine through storm clouds. He watched, fascinated, as you continued your performance, your eyes sparkling with both mischief and genuine concern. His heart, which had felt leaden in his chest moments ago, began to lighten at your ridiculous yet endearing display.

"Prithee, allow me to speak of truths most evident to all but thyself," you continued, kneeling before him with all the grace of a court person addressing their champion. "Thou art a warrior most valiant, a protector of the innocent, and a hero to those who have none." Your hand reached up to cup his cheek, and though your voice maintained its affected accent, the warmth in your touch was entirely genuine.

Jason leaned into your touch, unable to help himself. The warmth of your palm against his skin served as an anchor, drawing him back from the edge of his darker thoughts. "Baby, you don't have to-"

"Silence, my gallant defender!" You pressed a finger to his lips, your expression comically serious. "For too long have the naysayers and doubters cast their shadows upon thy heart. But hear me well, good sir – they can kindly fuck off to the darkest depths of whatever realm spawned their miserable souls."

The unexpected profanity delivered in such proper tones startled a laugh out of Jason, the sound rough and genuine. The tension in his shoulders began to ease as you continued your elaborate performance, each grandiose gesture and overwrought phrase carefully calculated to draw him out of his head.

"Now, noble sir," you declared, rising to your feet with a flourish, "I shall prepare for thee a feast most comforting, but first..." You disappeared momentarily into your shared bedroom, returning with your favorite blanket – the soft, well-worn one that always carried your scent, a mixture of vanilla and something uniquely you that Jason could never quite define but always found soothing.

With exaggerated ceremony, you draped it around his shoulders like a royal cloak. The familiar scent enveloped him, and Jason found himself pulling it closer, letting the comfort of it seep into his bones. The blanket had become something of a talisman for him over time, its presence alone capable of calming the storm of his thoughts.

"Come forth to thy throne, my knight," You proclaimed, gesturing toward one of your kitchen chairs with a sweeping bow. "For while I prepare sustenance most divine, I would have thee near, that thy presence might grace my humble efforts."

Jason rose, the blanket trailing behind him like a cape, and followed you into your small kitchen. The chair scraped quietly against the linoleum as he pulled it out, settling into it with the blanket still wrapped securely around his shoulders. From this vantage point, he could watch you as you moved about the kitchen, your Victorian persona gradually melding with your natural movements as you began gathering ingredients.

He observed you, feeling the last vestiges of his earlier darkness receding in the face of your unwavering love and ridiculous yet touching attempt to lift his spirits. His head laid on his crossed arms on the counter. The way you would occasionally throw in a "forsooth" or "verily" while measuring flour or cracking eggs made something warm and tender unfurl in his chest.

"You know," he said softly, his voice rough with emotion, eyes glassy with that pretty shade of teal, "I love you more than I know how to handle sometimes."

You turned from where you were stirring something on the stove, your affected accent dropping for just a moment as you smiled at him – that special smile that you seemed to reserve just for him, the one that made him feel like maybe he deserved all the good things you insisted on giving him. Then, with a playful glint returning to your eye, you curtsied deeply.

"And I, dear sir, find my heart most thoroughly and irrevocably consumed with affection for thy person," you declared grandly, before adding in your normal voice, "Even when you're being a brooding dumbass."

Jason laughed again, the sound fuller and more relaxed than before. He watched as you returned to your cooking, occasionally breaking into elaborate monologues about the noble art of comfort food preparation, and felt the last of his earlier anxiety melt away. The weight of Gotham's darkness seemed lighter somehow, filtered through the lens of your love and your willingness to be absolutely ridiculous just to make him smile.

The kitchen, with its flickering fluorescent light and cramped quarters, transformed into something magical through your performance – not because of any physical change, but because you had filled it with such abundant love and care that it couldn't help but feel like somewhere special. Jason sank deeper into the warmth of your blanket, letting its familiar scent mingle with the growing aroma of whatever you were cooking, and felt truly at peace for the first time that evening.

In that moment, watching you dramatically narrate your cooking process while occasionally breaking into what you clearly thought was Shakespearean English, Jason Todd – the Red Hood, the black sheep of the Bat-family, the man who had crawled his way out of his own grave – felt something very close to perfect happiness. And if anyone had told him years ago that he'd find such comfort in something so simple, he would have laughed in their face. But now, wrapped in a blanket that smelled like home and watching the love of his life intentionally make a fool of themselves just to make him feel better, he couldn't imagine wanting to be anywhere else.

The night's earlier demons retreated to their corners, unable to maintain their hold in the face of such unconditional love and acceptance. And while Jason knew they would probably return another day – because that's just how life worked – he also knew that he had this to come back to: this safe harbor, this love that asked nothing of him except that he allow himself to be loved in return. It wasn't a cure for all his darkness, but it was a light to guide him home when the shadows grew too deep, and really, that was all he needed.

[debonairprincesposts]

Hi!! I loved your fic with reader wearing jason’s hoodie and jason worrying for them, and I was just wondering if I could get a hurt/comfort (or just comfort) of there actually being scars under the hoodie sleeves and Jason comforting them. it would mean so much to me, but I understand if not. Thank you!!

I do not mind at all anon! ∠(ᐛ 」∠) It would be my honor to write something that you find comfort in.

Anyway, here we go! An alternate ending to “Loving Concern”.

Loving Concern

(Alternate Ending)

Summary: You like to wear hoodies. Always. Jason is concerned that you might be hiding something underneath.

Warning(s): involves topics like self harm. If there’s anyone suffering from this, talking to a friend or professionals might offer some assistance. I’m not exactly familiar with this topic itself. So excuse anything wrong in this fic and correct me if I’m wrong.

Words: 1k

Jason watched you across the dimly lit living room of his safehouse. His Angel, his sweetheart. You were curled up on the worn leather couch, a book open in your lap, but he doubted you were reading. Your eyes were distant, unfocused. As always, you were swallowed by one of your oversized hoodies, this one a faded black with the hood pulled low, obscuring most of your face. "Baby," he murmured, the endearment feeling both natural and like a desperate plea.

You glanced up, a soft smile gracing your lips. "Hey, Jay."

He hated this. Hated the way his chest tightened every time he saw you draped in those concealing clothes. He knew it was irrational, knew you had a whole wardrobe of these things, but the darkness clung to him like a second skin. He'd seen too much darkness, carried too much himself. He'd clawed his way out of the pit, both literally and figuratively, and the scars, both visible and invisible, were a constant reminder of how close he'd come to being consumed.

He knew your past wasn't sunshine and roses. You'd hinted at things, shadows lurking just beyond the edge of your words. And those damn hoodies... they were a shield, a barrier. What were you hiding?

He forced himself to breathe, to unclench his fists. He couldn't let his own demons poison your relationship. He had to trust you. But the fear, the gnawing, insidious fear, wouldn't let him.

He stood, the floorboards creaking softly under his weight. He walked over to the couch and knelt in front of you, taking your hands in his. Your skin was soft, warm, a stark contrast to the cold dread that had settled in his gut. "Sweetheart," he said, his voice rough, "can we talk?"

Your brow furrowed slightly. "Of course, Jay. What's wrong?"

He hesitated, searching your eyes for any sign of... what? Pain? Deceit? He didn't know. "It's... it's nothing, really. Just being stupid." He hated himself for the evasion, but the words felt like lead in his mouth.

You squeezed his hands. "You can tell me anything, you know that."

He took a deep breath. "It's just... you always wear these hoodies, baby. And I worry." He hated how weak he sounded, how vulnerable.

Your expression shifted from concern to confusion. "Worry? About what?"

He swallowed hard. "I just... I worry that you're hiding something. That you're... hurting." The word hung in the air, heavy and accusing.

Your eyes widened, and for a moment, he thought he saw a flicker of hurt. But it was quickly replaced by something else, vague understanding. "Hurting? Jay, what are you talking about?"

He gestured vaguely at your arms, hidden beneath the fabric. "Underneath... your sleeves."

You stared at him for a long, silent moment, and then a soft sigh escaped your lips. "You think I'm... self-harming?"

He flinched at the bluntness of your words. "I... I don't know. I just worry, okay? I care about you."

You reached out and gently cupped his face, your thumbs tracing the lines of his jaw. "I know you do, baby. And I appreciate it. But there's nothing to worry about anymore."

Anymore.

His heart cracked.

He searched your eyes, desperate to believe you. "Can you... can you show me?" The words were barely a whisper, laced with shame.

You sighed in a quiet understanding. "Okay, Jay," you said softly. "I can show you."

With a slow, deliberate movement, you pushed up the sleeves of the hoodie. His breath hitched. There, on the soft skin of your forearms, were faint, silvery lines. Scars. Faded, but undeniably there. Some were thin and short, others longer and more jagged. A roadmap of past pain etched onto your skin.

The relief he'd anticipated never came. Instead, a cold wave of guilt washed over him, so intense it made him feel sick. He'd been right to worry, but the confirmation was a punch to the gut. He'd invaded your privacy, forced you to reveal something deeply personal, and all because of his own insecurities.

He reached out, his fingers trembling, and gently traced one of the scars. "Oh, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Your eyes met his, filled with a mixture of sadness and resignation. "It was a long time ago, Jay. I was in a bad place. I don't... I don't do that anymore."

"But you still hide them," he said, his voice barely audible. "That's why you wear the hoodies."

You nodded, your gaze dropping to your lap. "Yeah. I guess so. They're a reminder. And not one I particularly like to share."

He cupped your face in his hands, lifting your chin so you were looking at him again. "Hey," he said softly. "Look at me. It's okay. You don't have to hide them from me. I’m sorry that you felt that you had to hide from me at all."

He kissed each of your scars, one by one, his lips lingering on each imperfection. "These don't scare me. Just like how my scars don't scare you," he murmured against your skin. "They tell a story. Your story. And I want to know all of it."

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you leaned into his touch. "Thank you, Jay," you whispered. "Thank you for understanding."

He sat next to you on the couch, pulled you close, holding you tightly against him, his nose burrowing in your hair. "I may not understand exactly what you went through," he said, "but I'm here for you now. Always. I promise."

He knew this was just the beginning. There would be more conversations, more tears, more healing. But as he held you in his arms, he knew they could face it together. Your scars were a part of you, a reminder of the battles you had fought and won. And he would be there, by your side, to help you carry them, to love you, scars and all.

You interrupt the silence with, "And for the record, I think your scars are cool."

Jason snorts. Only you would say something like that after a heartfelt conversation. He hugs you tighter.

[debonairprincesposts]

Boneless Whimsy

Summary: Jason comes home from patrol to find you delirious from exhaustion, flopped on the couch like a limp sack of potatoes. He takes care of you while trying to stifle his amusement. He fails miserably.

Warning(s): Crack? Curse words. Read at your own risk.

Words: 1.2k

Jason Todd knew something was different the moment he climbed through the window of your shared home after his evening patrol. The usual warm welcome he received – whether it was your bright smile or your playful commentary about his dramatic entrances – was notably absent. Instead, he found you sprawled across the couch in what could only be described as the most boneless position he'd ever witnessed on a living person.

Your limbs were arranged in that particular way that suggested you hadn't so much chosen to lie down as you had simply surrendered to gravity's insistent pull. One arm dangled off the edge of the couch, fingers barely brushing the hardwood floor, while the other was flung dramatically across your face. Your legs were a study in comfortable chaos – one hooked over the back of the couch, the other stretched out along its length.

"Baby?" he called softly, removing his helmet and setting it aside. When your only response was a vague sound that might have been meant to be words but came out more like "mrrghphf," his lips twitched into an amused smile.

As he approached, he noticed more details that painted a clear picture of absolute exhaustion. You were still wearing your work clothes, though they were thoroughly rumpled now. Your shoes lay haphazardly by the couch, as if you'd kicked them off with your last remaining energy before collapsing. Your hair, usually neat even at the end of a long day, was a wild tangle that suggested you'd been running your hands through it repeatedly.

"Long day?" he asked, crouching beside the couch near your head.

You made another indistinct noise, this one slightly more vowel-heavy than the last, and managed to shift your arm just enough to peer at him with one tired eye. "Everything is effort," You mumbled, your voice carrying the particular quality of someone who had completely run out of fucks to give. "Breathing is effort. Existing is effort. I have become one with the couch. The couch and I are now a single entity."

Jason couldn't help but chuckle, reaching out to brush some wayward strands of hair from your face. "That bad, huh?"

"Jason," You said with all the gravity of someone imparting great wisdom, though the effect was somewhat undermined by how you could barely keep your eyes open, "I had to think thoughts today. So many thoughts. All the thoughts. My brain is now soup."

"Brain soup, huh?" He gently ran his fingers through your hair, working out some of the tangles. The way you immediately leaned into his touch, like a tired cat seeking affection, made something warm and protective surge in his chest.

"Mmmhmm," You hummed, eyes fully closing now. "Soup. Tired soup. With extra... tired... in it." Your words were starting to slur slightly, exhaustion clearly winning its battle against coherence.

Jason observed you for a moment, taking in the dark circles under your eyes and the way every muscle in your body seemed to have declared independence from any form of tension. He made a decision.

"Alright, sweets, let's get you somewhere more comfortable." He moved to scoop you up, but your protest was immediate and remarkably articulate given your current state.

"Nooo," You whined, making no actual effort to resist but managing to convey profound disagreement through tone alone. "Moving requires muscles. Muscles are on strike. They've formed a union. They're demanding better working conditions and more naps."

Jason couldn't suppress his laugh this time. Even completely exhausted, you managed to be ridiculously entertaining. "Come on, sweetheart. Bed's more comfortable than the couch."

"The couch is my friend now," You declared with surprising passion for someone who couldn't even open their eyes. "We've bonded. Breaking us apart would be cruel. Inhumane. A tragedy of... of... something tragic."

"The couch will understand," Jason assured you solemnly, though his eyes danced with amusement. He slid one arm under your knees and the other behind your shoulders, lifting you as carefully as if you were made of glass.

You immediately turned your face into his chest, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like "my hero" but could just as easily have been "warm pillow." Your body was completely limp in his arms, trusting him entirely to keep you safe even in your exhausted state. The implicit trust in that surrender made his heart clench with emotion.

As he carried you to your shared bedroom, you nuzzled closer, one hand weakly grasping at his jacket. "You smell like leather and gunpowder and crime-fighting," You murmured against his chest. "S'nice."

"Pretty sure crime-fighting doesn't have a smell, baby," he responded softly, maneuvering through the doorway with practiced ease.

"Does too. Smells like justice. And leather. Lots of leather." Your words were becoming more spaced out, sleep clearly pulling at your consciousness.

Jason gently laid you on your bed, immediately moving to help you out of your work clothes and into something more comfortable for sleep. You attempted to help but mostly just managed to flop your arms around in what you probably thought was a helpful manner.

"Evil buttons," You declared as he worked on your blouse. "They're conspiring against me. Have been all day. You show 'em, Jay."

"I'll protect you from the evil buttons," he choked back a laugh as he promised with faux seriousness, unable to keep the fondness out of his voice as he helped you into one of his old t-shirts – your preferred sleeping attire.

Once he had you changed and tucked under the covers, he quickly stripped out of his own gear and joined you. You immediately gravitated toward him like a heat-seeking missile, though a very slow and uncoordinated one. You ended up half-sprawled across his chest, face pressed into his neck.

"My hero," You mumbled again, more distinctly this time. "Saving me from buttons and couches and... and thinking thoughts."

"Get some sleep, Angel," he said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"Already sleepin’," You protested weakly. "This’s all jus’ ... sleep talkin’. I'm actually... alr’dy..." Your words trailed off into steady, deep breathing, your body somehow managing to become even more relaxed against his.

Jason lay there in the quiet darkness, one hand absently stroking your hair while the other rested protectively across your back. He thought about how you could be so vibrant and dramatic when you wanted to cheer him up, trusted him enough to let him see you at your most vulnerable and exhausted. How you didn't feel the need to maintain any pretenses with him, comfortable enough to just be completely and utterly yourself.

As your warm weight pressed against him and your steady breathing tickled his neck, Jason felt that familiar surge of protective love that you always inspired in him. He tightened his arms around you slightly, earning a contented little sigh from your sleeping form.

"Sweet dreams, baby," he whispered into your hair, letting himself be lulled toward sleep by your peaceful presence and the knowledge that, at least for tonight, he could keep you safe and comfortable while you recharged.

The last thought that crossed his mind before sleep claimed him was that he'd never seen anything quite as endearing as your complete surrender to exhaustion, buttons conspiracy and all.

[debonairprincesposts]

Loving Concern

Summary: You like to wear hoodies. Always. Jason is concerned that you might be hiding something underneath.

Warning(s): Involves topics like self-harm. Proceed at your own risk.

Words: 833.

Jason watched you across the dimly lit living room of his safehouse. His Angel, his sweetheart. You were curled up on the worn leather couch, a book open in your lap, but he doubted you were reading. Your eyes were distant, unfocused. As always, you were swallowed by one of your oversized hoodies, this one a faded black with the hood pulled low, obscuring most of your face. "Baby," he murmured, the endearment feeling both natural and like a desperate plea.

You glanced up, a soft smile gracing your lips. "Hey, Jay."

He hated this. Hated the way his chest tightened every time he saw you draped in those concealing clothes. He knew it was irrational, knew you had a whole wardrobe of these things, but the darkness clung to him like a second skin. He'd seen too much darkness, carried too much himself. He'd clawed his way out of the pit, both literally and figuratively, and the scars, both visible and invisible, were a constant reminder of how close he'd come to being consumed.

He knew your past wasn't sunshine and roses. You'd hinted at things, shadows lurking just beyond the edge of your words. And those damn hoodies... they were a shield, a barrier. What were you hiding?

He forced himself to breathe, to unclench his fists. He couldn't let his own demons poison your relationship. He had to trust you. But the fear, the gnawing, insidious fear, wouldn't let him.

He stood, the floorboards creaking softly under his weight. He walked over to the couch and knelt in front of you, taking your hands in his. Your skin was soft, warm, a stark contrast to the cold dread that had settled in his gut. "Sweetheart," he said, his voice rough, "can we talk?"

Your brow furrowed slightly. "Of course, Jay. What's wrong?"

He hesitated, searching your eyes for any sign of... what? Pain? Deceit? He didn't know. "It's... it's nothing, really. Just being stupid." He hated himself for the evasion, but the words felt like lead in his mouth.

You squeezed his hands. "You can tell me anything, you know that."

He took a deep breath. "It's just... you always wear these hoodies, Angel. And I worry." He hated how weak he sounded, how vulnerable.

Your expression shifted from concern to confusion. "Worry? About what?"

He swallowed hard. "I just... I worry that you're hiding something. That you're... hurting." The word hung in the air, heavy and accusing.

Your eyes widened, and for a moment, he thought he saw a flicker of hurt. But it was quickly replaced by something else, something that looked suspiciously like amusement. "Hurting? Jay, what are you talking about?"

He gestured vaguely at your arms, hidden beneath the fabric. "Underneath... your sleeves."

You stared at him for a long, silent moment, and then a soft laugh escaped your lips. "You think I'm... self-harming?"

He flinched at the bluntness of your words. "I... I don't know. I just worry, okay? I care about you."

You reached out and gently cupped his face, your thumbs tracing the lines of his jaw. "I know you do, baby. And I appreciate it. But there's nothing to worry about."

He searched your eyes, desperate to believe you. "Can you... can you show me?" The words were barely a whisper, laced with shame.

You didn't hesitate. You pushed up the sleeves of the hoodie, revealing your forearms. Smooth, unmarked skin. A few faint scratches, undoubtedly from your beloved cats, were the only imperfections. No angry red lines, no faded white scars. Nothing.

Relief washed over him in a tidal wave, so potent it almost knocked him off balance. He hadn't realized how tightly wound he'd been until the tension began to bleed out of him.

"See? Nothing to worry about," you said, your voice gentle. "I just like hoodies. They're comfortable. And they keep my neck warm." You tugged at the collar, a small, almost shy gesture. "I get cold easily."

He took your hands again, turning them over in his. He kissed your palms, his heart overflowing with a mixture of gratitude and self-reproach. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I shouldn't have doubted you."

You smiled, a genuine, radiant smile that chased away the shadows in his mind. "It's okay, Jay. I understand. But trust me, if something was wrong, I'd tell you."

He knew you would. He had to trust you. He pulled you close, burying his face in your hair, inhaling the familiar scent of your shampoo. "I love you," he whispered, the words a promise, a vow.

You hugged him tightly. "I love you too, Jay."

He still didn't completely understand your obsession with hoodies, but in that moment, it didn't matter. All that mattered was that you were safe, that you were okay. And that he had you, his sweetheart, his Angel, right here in his arms. He would fight every demon, every fear, to keep you safe. Even if those demons were his own.

[mosabsdr]

💬 Just a Small Update, and a Big Thank You

Dear friends, kind hearts, and everyone who has stood with us,

When I first opened my heart to the world and shared our story, I never imagined the amount of love and solidarity we would receive. Thanks to your incredible support, we’ve now reached $12,837—a milestone that brings real light to some very dark days.

From the deepest corners of my heart, thank you.

💔 A Journey of Loss, but Also of Strength

As many of you know, I’ve lost 25 of my loved ones during this devastating war. That grief lives with me every single day. It’s in the silence that once held laughter, in the empty spaces where we once gathered as a family.

But through your help, I’ve also felt something else: hope. And that hope is priceless.

“21/Oct/2023 Before It Reached Us: The Day Our Neighbor’s House Was Destroyed” A quiet moment of fear, filmed just before everything changed.

“22/Oct/2023 The Morning After: Our Family Home in Ruins” This is what was left behind after the bombing of our home.

🌿 What Life Looks Like for Us Now

Despite everything, we’re still here. Still surviving. Still hoping.

But things have only gotten harder.

The war has returned, more brutal than before—and for over a month now, Gaza has been completely sealed off. No food is coming in. No medical supplies. No aid. No trade. No one is allowed to leave, and no one is allowed to enter.

We’re trapped.

🏚 We live with the fear of tomorrow, every single day. Airstrikes, drones, and the uncertainty of what might happen next. 👨‍👩‍👧 Our family is forever changed—we haven’t just lost people; we’ve lost pieces of ourselves. 📉 Basic needs go unmet—even clean water feels like a luxury now. Medicines, if they exist at all, are unreachable.

And yet…

Your support reminds us that we’re not forgotten. It reminds us that someone, somewhere, is still listening. That someone still cares. That we’re not completely alone in this.

Every message. Every share. Every dollar. It tells us: You’re walking this road with us. And that gives us the strength to keep going.

💖 What You Can Do

If you’ve already donated—thank you beyond words. If you can share our story again, it could reach someone who can help.

Even $5 means warmth, comfort, and a chance to breathe a little easier.

Donate to Help Mosab saving who's left of his family

My name is Mosab Elderawi, and I am a survivor of the war in Gaza. Life as I knew it has been completely destroyed. I have lost my home, my

✨ Why It All Matters

This isn’t just about reaching a fundraising goal. It’s about surviving war with dignity. It’s about believing in tomorrow. It’s about making sure my daughter grows up knowing that the world did not look away.

Thank you for your kindness, patience, and belief in our humanity. You’ve helped me find my voice—and I will use it to keep hope alive.

🙏 From the Heart: A Quiet Apology

There’s something I need to say—something that’s been on my heart for some time.

When I first began sharing our story, I didn’t know what the right way was. I was scared, grieving, and trying to protect my family in any way I could. I reached out to many people, hoping someone, anyone, would see us. In that process, I now realize I may have overstepped, and I might have made some feel overwhelmed.

If that happened, I am truly sorry.

Please believe me when I say it was never out of disregard or pushiness. It came from a place of fear—fear of being forgotten, fear of not being able to keep my family safe, fear of watching everything I love slip away in silence.

I’m learning as I go. I’ve slowed down. I’m more mindful now, trying to share our journey in a way that feels respectful of the space and hearts of those listening.

If my words ever came at the wrong time, or in the wrong way, I hope you can understand where they came from—and I hope you can forgive me.

Thank you for seeing past my mistakes. Thank you for still being here. It means more than I can ever explain.

With love and endless gratitude, Mosab and family ♥️