Just your average Jason Todd (feat batfam and other DC characters) blog!! Starting to add more random stuff as well. Warning I post spoilers!!!!!! Masterlist
Loving Yūji comes with a package deal you don't necessarily know how to deal with. Granted, you've loved him first before this whole ordeal even happened — it still is a matter of when and never an if, per se, when it comes to his special situation.
"So tight, baby," Yūji says between sucking his breath. He's not quite sure whether to ram and go at a harsher pace or let you adjust to his girth first. His control is being tested too much right now. "Even after all that."
You moan his name in praise before you lock your legs around his waist and pull yourself closer to him, effectively shutting him up from keeping things slow. You've always wanted things rougher, something that Yūji loves about you (but even then, he still wishes to take his time).
"Oh s-shit, baby!" Yūji would've let his eyes roll back if he wasn't focused on keeping his entire weight off of you. "F-Fuck!"
"H-Harder, Yūji," you beg him, "please."
Yūji doesn't need to be told twice. He grabs hold of your thighs roughly and pounds into you like an animal in heat. You arch your back further for more, and he gives in.
"So good, baby," Yūji drools, "so, so good. Oh my — fuck!"
Just as you are coming down with your first orgasm, another voice pierces through the solidity of the air and breaks it easily as if he had done this countless times before.
"Enchain."
Suddenly you are flipped on your hands and knees. Your hair has been forcibly fisted and yanked until your head is pulled back enough to see your lover covered in tattoos, and a vitriol laugh teases your ears.
"Y-Yū —"
"Brat's not here," Sukuna's voice deeply rumbles against your skin.
This is the first time he's ever made his presence known to you. You've heard stories of how Sukuna would pop on Yūji's cheek or his hands whenever he's got something to say (especially towards your sensei and Megumi), but not once has he ever manifested and broken through Yūji's control — and right in the middle of fucking, too.
"Heh," he yanks you further until you can see his eyes gazing heatedly at yours, "my own vessel lost control. Let's see if you do live up to that expectation."
Then he slams your head against the pillow and fucks you senseless. It's wrong . . . to even feel how fucking good it is to be brutally pounded.
Yet, here you are in the mercy of a sadistic curse, cackling like a bastard that he is.
Sukuna had you spread out for him, as he continues to ram his cock up inside of you. One of his hands kneads your ass mockingly before he slaps each cheek hard.
Your teeth bite into the soft fabric of the pillow, muffling your screams lest you want Megumi to hear you from the other side of the room. At this point, Sukuna slapping you might've really been a dead giveaway.
"Y-Yūji —"
"My name, brat —"
"—Y-Yūji, Y-Yū—"
"— I said my name." He slaps your sloppily wet clit.
You arch your back unknowingly to the sensation, and before you could have thought twice about it, your body yields and your mouth muddles the name, "S-Sukuna!"
"Good." He mutters darkly, "Good girl."
He fondles your breasts next. Then his tongue laps to the outline of your spine and back up to your neck, where he marks you. His canines have sunk into your skin so deeply, he can taste your blood, and that further fuels him into a mess of moans and praise as if he's drunk on an aphrodisiac.
"Again." He orders you. "My name. Only."
"Sukuna," you say. "Sukuna! Sukuna! Sukuna! F-Fuck, I —"
"That's it."
The first of your orgasms comes to you like a torrent. It's harsh and unforgiving, much like how Sukuna doesn't even stop fucking you even as you try your best to squirm away.
When you feel that he's finally slowed down, when his hands have released the hold against your body, and you allow yourself to breathe a little better, there's a sudden shift between you and the King of Curses. You realize that it's because you've been flipped back and your legs are locked around his waist again.
"S-Sukuna?"
"No," Yūji breathlessly says. He leans his face closer until his lips brush yours. "I-It's me, baby. It's me. I'm sorry. I-I lost control. Are you hurt?"
You shake your head with a smile. "N-No, I'm fine. I'm more than fine."
"Yeah?" Yūji perks up. You notice that his cock has hardened once more and he's repositioning himself to your abused cunt.
"Yeah, baby." You laugh dumbly. "That was . . . quite exhilarating."
Yūji bumps his nose against yours. The heat in his eyes is visible, but it is nowhere near as intense as the other pair you were forced to look at prior.
"That was hot," Yūji admits. "Watching you . . . like that."
"It was," you breathe out.
When you peer below Yūji's eyes, you swear you've seen the glints of red and black squinting back at you as if to tell you that he's heard about your little honesty.
Well, it really can't be helped sometimes. After all, loving Yūji does come with a deal.
summary: jason thought you didn’t know he was red hood. he preferred to keep it that way for now. you knew that jason was red hood. you just figured he didn’t like to talk about it all that much.
word count: 2k
warnings: none
Jason was being as quiet as he possibly could be, which wasn’t easy when geared up from head to toe in his heavy Red Hood suit.
From his steel toed boots- that he could not figure out how to tiptoe in to save his life. Which was pointed out by his brothers, who made fun of him relentlessly whenever he failed to sneak up on someone in the field. To even the way his trusty leather jacket creaks over his chest plate agonizingly loud in the otherwise silent apartment.
His one goal: to not wake you up from whatever peaceful slumber you had fallen into since he left you last.
You had been dating for a few months now and as much as he loved you- god, did Jason love you- he didn’t exactly know how to broach the whole… vilgilante topic.
It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you to keep it a secret, he did, his only fear was that you looked at him differently once you knew that he was the feared Red Hood of Crime Alley. He was worried beyond belief that you would view the relationship that you built together- the one he treasured more than anything in this world- as one built on lies.
And while that couldn’t be further from the truth, he still couldn’t stop the way his lungs seized and practically collapsed in on themselves whenever he even thought about letting you in his nightlife secret.
How would he even start that conversation? ‘Oh, hey, babe. You know that Red Hood guy? The one that everyone fears- the one that kills people? Yeah? Well, that’s me! Plus, and my dad is Batman! Anyway, what do you want for dinner?’
Yeah, fat chance.
Jason grumbled inaudibly under his breath as he attempted to shed himself of his gun holster, that appeared to pick that specific time to get slightly tangled and stuck, and therefore inconvenience the man who wanted nothing more than to slip into bed discreetly beside you.
Just as he went to pass the kitchen and make his way to the bathroom to rid himself of the rest of his ensemble, however, a soft clattering had him freezing directly in his steps.
The man swore his heart stopped beating all together in his chest as he slowly turned his head- still with his red helmet over it- to face you, standing innocently with your back towards him, clad in nothing but one of your boyfriends old sleep shirts as you filled up a glass of water at the sink.
Before the vigilante could even attempt to move out of your line of sight- his fight or flight instincts all of a sudden completely nonexistent, apparently- you shut off the tap and turned to him calmly, sipping gingerly on your drink.
“Hi, baby,” You greeted quietly, giving the man a small smile as you padded forwards against the hardwood floors.
It was pathetic, really, how every thought completely vanished from the man’s mind right then and there. As if the mere sight of you had stolen away any ounce of common sense he may have had clanging around in his head.
Jason was rendered completely useless, frozen with his mouth hanging open and pupils blown wide as he stared directly at you. You continued to approach him, undeterred by his whole getup.
You stood on your tiptoes, placing a quick, chaste kiss to the side of his helmet, “Come to bed soon, I missed you.” Is all you said before taking your glass of water and disappear back into your room as if you had just had the most normal exchange in the world.
As if this were just an average night for you.
“Uhh…” Jason stuttered out into the empty space, breaths coming out as nothing more than practically a wheeze at this point, “What?”
He had to have been hallucinating. He must’ve been, right? After all, there was no way you had just acted as if you knew the Red Hood, had just kissed him on the cheek as if he were Jason.
Which, to your knowledge, he wasn’t.
Sleepwalking. You had to have been sleepwalking. That was the only way possible he could even begin to explain what the hell had just taken place.
You had slept-walked into the kitchen to pour yourself a late night glass of water and in your hazed mind, had seen a man in your apartment that you could only assume to be your boyfriend, and then went on your merry way back to bed.
Todd quickly shook his head, ridding himself of all thoughts of anything other than the possibility of you having just been sleepwalking in front of him. True, you had never done so before, but there was a first time for everything, wasn’t there?
Quickly slipping out of the rest of his suit and into nothing but a pair of low hanging sweatpants, Jason timidly made his way to your bedroom, peering inside as if fully expecting a bomb to be chucked directly in his face if he stepped in too fast.
“Hey, Jay.” You greeted softly, causing the man’s green eyed gaze to snap directly to you, where you sat propped up against the headboard, smiling welcomingly at the man.
You, who was very much awake, and very much not sleepwalking.
The cup you had fetched now sat discarded on your bedside table, and you held your open arms out to your boyfriend, a silent invitation if Jason had ever seen one.
He shuffled into the room awkwardly, hand coming up to tug slightly at the back of his dark hair as he eyed you wearily, “Hi, sweetheart,” He mumbled back, almost as though he were testing the waters as he approached you, “Havin’ a good night?” He asked when he came to a stop in front of the mattress, gulping.
Humming in response, you reached over and gently but firmly tugged your boyfriend down onto the bed beside you, making yourself comfortable snuggled against his chest without further delay, “Very. It was nice and relaxing. How about you, baby?” You asked, tracing idle shapes against his bare chest while you allowed your eyes to flutter shut.
Jason swallowed harshly once more as his arm came to wrap itself around you unconsciously, unsure of how exactly to bring up what had just gone down in the kitchen. How you had seen him in his vigilante getup and hadn’t even batted an eye.
“So, about what you just saw-” He started, unsure of what else he could even say, but you swiftly cut him off as your head popped up and your serious gaze met his.
Whatever lingering sleepiness that had been clinging to your expression vanished in and instant, a sense of alertness coming over you.
“Oh, Jay, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” A small frown was pulling at your lips as you spoke.
He blinked down at you once. Twice. “I-what?” He tripped over his words, a jumble of syllables falling out in turn.
You sighed, dropping your chin against his pec so you could still gaze up at him with a soft pout now adorning your features, “I know you don’t like to talk about the whole Red Hood thing, so I’m sorry if I made you upset by talking to you while you were still- what? In costume? Suited up?” You shook your head softly, “Sorry, baby, I don’t know the correct term.”
The words rolled off your tongue so casually, as if you were merely discussing the weather. Not the possibility of your boyfriend of a few months being a vigilante.
Jason practically leapt to his feet, though he was careful to gently move you off of him before he did so, “I- you knew?” He spat out, complete and utter bewilderment overtaking his features.
He didn’t know what was happening. Everything was so confusing and he felt as though the walls of your bedroom were spinning around him suddenly, trying to knock him off kilter.
You rose to your knees on the mattress in front of your boyfriend, confusion mirroring his own spreading throughout your face, “Knew about what, Jay?” You asked as gently as you could manage at exactly 4:24 in the morning.
Pacing commenced before your very eyes as Jason ran his hands repeatedly through his hair, “Red Hood! You- you knew about Red Hood?” It sounded more as though he were speaking to himself, trying to wrap his mind around such possibilities that seemed so far fetched from him a mere twenty minutes prior.
“About… you being Red Hood?” You asked so slowly, eyebrows furrowing as what he was questioning you about finally processed in your head, “Of course I knew, I’ve known since the second week of us dating.” You said it slowly, gently, as if speaking to an unstable toddler.
Jason froze for what felt like the tenth time that night, “What?” He asked, completely horrified, “You- knew?”
You shook your head back and forth, “Of course I knew. I thought you… knew that I knew?” The more you talked, the less certain on the topic you seemed, “I mean, you’re not exactly slick about it.”
If it was even possible, his eyes had just been blown wider than they had been, “What- what’s that supposed to mean?” He sputtered out.
“I mean how you leave your vigilante suit in the closet.” You explained slowly.
“In a duffle bag!” He defended, mind reeling as he went over any single moment that he could’ve tripped up on the whole ‘secret identity’ thing in the last few months of you dating.
“That you often leave not only opened, but flipped upside down.” You continued, “I swear it spends more time across the closet floor than it actually does on you at night. And speaking of, you keep very odd hours, Jay. Even by Gotham standards. There’s only so much detective work that could possibly go into figuring something like that out.”
Jason dropped his head into his hands, “I thought I was careful.” He all but groaned, words becoming muffled through his fingers.
Gently, you reached out and took his hands into your own, pulling them away so he would look you in the eyes as you soothingly ran your thumbs across his wrists, “Not to mention the fact that I saw you changing into your suit on our second week of dating. I think you thought I was asleep so you were trying to be quiet, but you actually bumped into the dresser pretty loudly and started cursing like a sailor.” You giggled slightly under your breath at the thought, “It was kinda hard to miss.”
He swallowed thickly, eyes now taking in every inch of your face, scanning for those signs of fear and regret he had dreaded looking upon the moment you knew about his Red Hood life, “So… you knew all along?”
Nodding gently, you squeezed his hands once, “Well, I kind of assumed you knew that I knew and just didn’t like to talk about it.” You shrugged almost bashfully now, as if realizing that you very poorly misread the situation, “I always just thought you liked to keep that life and this life with the two of us separate. I thought I was respecting your wishes by never bringing it up.”
“And you’re not…” He searched for the right words, “Scared of me- of Red Hood?”
Your eyebrows shot up at the suggestion, as if it were the most unhinged and improbable thing he could’ve possibly asked you in that moment, “Scared of you? Of course not, Jay, you keep me- and so many other people safe- each and every night. I have nothing to be scared of from you.”
Jason had not realized until that moment just how much he had needed to hear those exact words fall from your lips. He all but deflated as what felt like the weight of a thousand burdens lifted from his shoulders and were obliterated before his very eyes.
“Oh, sweetheart,” He sighed, somewhat dreamily, sweeping a piece of hair away from your eyes, “All this time, I saw so worried about you knowing and… and looking at me differently. When, in reality, you knew all along.”
You leaned into the man’s touch without thinking twice, eyes fluttering shut as you planted a soft kiss to the inside of his hand that gingerly cupped your cheek now, “Nothing you could do could ever make me look at you differently, Jason.” You assured him, “Now, get in bed, it’s late and I’m tired.” You teased, tugging him down alongside you once more.
He allowed you to do as such to him and he stayed still for a moment, with you curled up at his side and letting out a content hum when he began moving his fingers through your hair.
“Sweetheart?” Jason asked after a few moments of silence, “…I can be subtle right?”
𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: pnv, slight choking, fingering, sex in the kitchen
𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒕: Jason Todd x female reader, Jason visits your house later at night after patrol.
𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 1,611
[ 𝑹𝑬𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑺𝑻𝑺 𝑶𝑷𝑬𝑵 ]
-𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒂𝒊𝒅, 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒖𝒕-
Jason slips in the window. Home at last, at least what feels most like home because this is where you live, still up for some reason? Insomnia's a bitch isn't it, poor girl. Maybe he can give you a reason to be tired, that is if you're up for it. He hasn't told a single person in the family about you, not because he's ashamed of you or he doesn't wanna hear yet another conversation about the importance of "hiding identities" from Bruce, but because for right now it's simple; it's just you and him, and simple for once feels good.
"Babygirl, It's just me." Saying the same line he says nightly to let you know it's him and not some lunatic. I mean, you live on the eleventh story, but weirder things have happened; it's Gotham for God's sake; all it takes is one Drophead higher than the moon to scale the fire escape like some sorta Left 4 Dead zombie or some shit.
"In the kitchen, J!" You shout as you lean over the counter to turn the music down just a little on the speaker you have your phone Bluetoothed to, your shirt riding up a bit as you do so, oversized shirt and...no panties. Jason's eyebrow and his lips curve with surprise and sheer hunger. He takes his helmet off, setting it on the kitchen counter with a soft metallic clink.
"Now, I know that wasn't an accident." He makes his way over to where you're still bent over; you don't even have time to pretend you haven't been up all night, unable to sleep until you felt him between your thighs somehow. Jason places his hand over your stomach to pull you to the front of him, taking a glove off his other hand with his teeth before slipping it down between you both, between your lovely thighs, to check how wet you are.
"And I haven't even had to do anything. Poor girl, you miss me that much?" He kisses your throat as he speaks in a low register, the tone only you and a few Gotham thugs get to hear when he's chastizing them in such a cocky way, like he's superior.
A groan leaves your lips; you have been thinking about him all night. Your fingers didn't work; of course they didn't. They're not nearly as long and as thick as his, and the vibrator's nowhere to be found. Jason probably purposefully hid it somewhere just so he'd have an excuse to ask just why you need it when you have him. So considering that you opted for sitting in the kitchen to wait til your knight in red came home and could fuck you properly, the ball of your foot pressed deep into your aching heat. Thank god he got home; it's getting unbearable.
You're broken from your thoughts as his gloved hand makes its way down between the counter and your naked hips, pressing his leathet covered middle finger to your clit as he bites down on your neck just enough to feel it, soothing the ache with his tongue. A soft groan leaves your lips, whispering his name like a breathless prayer as your head tilts to the side so he has even a bigger canvas to paint such beautiful purple pictures along.
"So fucking beautiful and so fucking pliant. You wanted this, didn't you? Welcoming me home....mmmm, so polite." His hips grind against your bare backside as his middle finger makes deep yet gentle circles on your clit.
"I wasn't." You lie straight through your teeth; the both of you know it, but you're willing to spice things up just a little. Biting your lip as soon as he growls into your neck, causing your own throat to vibrate at his own frequency. He knows you're lying, knows you probably can't sleep til he's properly worn you out, smacking your ass just enough to hear the sound reverberate around the room. A whine leaves your lips as you feel the soft sting his hands left behind, punishing you for lying just the way you wanted.
"You sure about that, Angel? Don't lie to me, you know how I get." He still keeps his finger pressed against your clit, the other behind you just barely stroking your wet slit. He knows this game, the way you'll lie like no other if it's just to get him to punish you. Such a contradiction to how you actually are, so sweet, so generous, loyal, and truthful. He smirks again, loving the way you play into these games.
"I didn't wait up for you. I'm just not wearing panties cause it's comfortable."
"Comfortable, is that it? Is this comfortable?" He slips two fingers in quickly but not roughly, his "punishment." Jason's fingers curl up into your warm pussy with a smirk you can't currently see, his cock straining against his cargo pants. When did these pants get so tight? He groans into your throat as he keeps himself from dry humping your ass, scissoring his fingers out to stretch your cunt out for him.
"You keep condoms in that utility belt, Mr. Red Hood?" You tease before he again growls into the corner of your neck, moving his hand off your clit to check that he did indeed have one in his utility belt. Normally he'd be teasing back, but right now he just wants to be inside you. He steps back, removing his slick fingers from inside you, much to your displeasure. His lips thin out and curl into yet another smirk, boosting his already massive ego as he hears the needy sound you let out.
Jason strips off his utility belt, letting it clash with the tile floor, prompting you to attempt to turn around and watch him, whistling as you see him stripping. "If you don't take that fuckin shirt off, I'm gonna rip it in half." He speaks with an even lower tone than earlier; he means what he says, and considering you like this shirt, it very promptly finds a home with his now growing pile of clothes on the floor.
He carefully rips the foil over, skillfully but quickly rolling the condom over his aching cock, even the friction of the condom making him want to moan, but he doesn't. Jason ambushes you a little quicker than he'd meant to, grabbing you by your thighs and putting you on top of the kitchen counter, reaching down to push his hard, aching dick inside you. You'd made a soft squeal of surprise, almost scared at the sudden nature of the way he grabbed you.
"Fuck, Baby. I'm sorry, Angel." He apologizes, carefully grabbing your face to let you know he didn't mean to be so rough, even if you both are playing into it. "You good?" Asking before he even remotely does anything else like a proper gentleman.
"Uh huh, yeah." Tilting your face down so he can capture your lips, one of your hands finding his cheek, the other softly gripping his shoulder. Feeling him move as soon as he gets the okay, he goes back to being rough but in the same considerate way you both enjoy. He cock so wonderfully pounding away between your thighs, just how you wanted all night.
"Nnngh, fuck...fucking amazing." He grumbles against your lips, not really kissing fully but not technically not. His hot breath finds your lips just to be pushed back by your own. Jason keeps the pace going; occasionally, his eyes look for yours to make sure that you're getting just as fulfilled as he is.
He can feel you're close and keeps the pace even if he needs it just a little rougher to get himself to that point, reaching a hand up from your thigh to your throat, squeezing just a little to push you over. Sweet praises leaving your lips as he feels your walls shudder around him, fucking you through the entire high at the same pace that caused you to cum in the first place. Making sure you're taken care of, he pushes in you a just bit harder, soft grunts leaving his lips, his hips shudder to a stop, groaning into your mouth as he spills himself inside the condom so lovely, protecting the both of you from reproduction.
"Fuck- Fuck you, fuck you. You're fuckin' perfection." He laughs and smiles as he comes down from his high, pulling you even closer by your throat and a hand in your hair, only pulling back once your lower lip is between his teeth.
"I lied." You face flushed with the content and happiness he's come to learn after every time he's made you come. Jason chuckles just slightly, shaking his head.
"Thank god for fuckin liars then." He carefully slips out from between your thighs, pushing you back just a little to keep you steady on the kitchen counter. He slips the condom off of him, making sure not to make a mess in your kitchen before putting it in the trash. For a second, you admire his attention to detail, making sure not to dirty your kitchen; that is before he grabs the newly washed hand towel from the rack and wipes between your thighs.
"I just washed that! Babe!" A shocked expression on your face, even as he carefully wipes the slick arousal from between your thighs with a gentle and steady hand.
"Too bad, wash it again." Pecking your cheek before he wipes himself off as well, throwing the hand towel in the laundry bin.
Arguing with Jason is always something so heartbreaking. Mdni
Contrary to what many believe you and Jason do argue a lot, way more than a healthy couple should, but not in a toxic-relationship kind of way. Jason has had a fucked up life and thus has become extremly paranoid and very, very, very protective over you. It has gotten to a point where he starts becoming too overbearing over you and you feel like you can‘t breathe anymore without him trying to breathe in the air before you do to make sure it‘s safe. But one thing about Jason is that no matter how many times you argue he will never let you leave the apartment, or leave it himself. Gotham is cruel on a good day, and he knows exactly what waits beyond the apartment door. No matter how angry he is, he'll never let you leave while emotions are running high. If anyone is going to walk away, it's him usually to sit in the bathroom or lean against the kitchen counter until his heartbeat settles. Other times Jason goes with a more intimate way of reconciling what you two have.
Whenever you two finish arguing Jason often just stands and looks at you. You, with your chest heathing from how hard you are trying to control yourself from saying something you know you will regret. You with your eyes that flit between his burning with…hatred?
It‘s always the same dance with you two.
He will let you go to the Bedroom and sit on the edge of the bed while you are still frustrated with your hands running all over your face. He will follow behind you like a puppy and drop down onto the floor infront of you. Warm hands caressing your thighs, still not saying one singular word. You would take a deep breath and one of your hand will find the side of his face to cradle it. He will nuzzle against it while pressing soft kisses into your palm before dropping to kiss your thighs up and down all the while he mutters apologies into your skin as though he could tattoo them into you.
Soon enough he will have you on your back moaning and withering beneath his hands as he licks and kisses you. The slurp noises he was making were obscene and mixed in-between the apologizes and his love confessions that he would mumble against you. After some time your hand finds his hair and you grip at it to pull him up for air and to give yourself a break from his restlessness and he will sit there grasping for it. He will sit there grasping for you.
Head tilted to the side beneath your hand, and his lips that were plump, swollen, and wet with your cum are parted as his eyebrows furrow. Still panting for air his eyes flick between yours;
,,I love you, y‘know that yeah?“
Even if you didn‘t, he will make sure you do by morning.
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: roy calls you at 2 am, apparently jason is drunk and needs you
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 1.1k words, none, fluff, CRACK, sort of part 2 for this, roy is there too, 1 sexual comment, not edited just proof-read 🚬
<𝟑: art creds to @quezartt
You’re currently wearing one of Jason’s Gotham U hoodies (you suspect it’s not actually Jason’s) that reaches down to your legs, along with your winter boots. Aside from that, you’re wearing your pyjamas and nothing else.
You’re absolutely freezing your ass off, and by the time you barge into the club Roy sent you the address to, you swear you’re on the verge of hypothermia.
You would’ve told him to fuck off because it’s literally two a.m. But he called with Jason’s phone, and told you to come right now.
You need to come. It’s Jason.
Your heart absolutely stopped for a second. What? You can’t even hear your own voice.
He laughs. Nothing serious. He’s just worried you’re hungry.
Huh? Your voice is still raspy from sleep.
Just come.
So now you’re here, climbing the stairs to the VIP lounge. And it’s just your luck that someone is guarding the door.
He scans you up and down, then shuffles a bit closer to block the entrance.
"Hi, um, my friends are inside waiting for me."
He raises a brow. "Sure.”
"Yeah," you insist. "Roy and Jason—"
His face falls. "You’re Jason’s girl?"
"Sorry?" You blink twice. "What do you mean—"
But you’re interrupted for a second time. You frown and check your phone again, to see if there are any missed calls. There’s not.
The man turns around and taps his earpiece. A moment later, he spins back to you, smiling brightly. "You can absolutely come in." He opens the door for you. "Jason’s girl."
You mumble a thanks, still very weirded out by the whole experience.
The second you step inside, all eyes snap to you. Granted, there are only five other people besides Roy and Jason, but it’s still very weird for everyone to be tracking your movements and whispering to each other.
You ignore the stares and make your way to the boys’ table in the corner of the room. Just where Jay would’ve chosen it— away from any potential threats.
"Roy! Jason!" you call.
Jason is rambling to Roy, waving his hands around and smiling brightly. But the second he hears you, his whole body freezes. Even his hands stop mid-gesture. His pretty green eyes immediately start scanning the room until they land on you.
And then he waddles. He waddles toward you. His movements are clumsy as he tries to grab you, nearly walking straight into a decorative plant.
"Baby!"
You catch him just as he’s about to collapse on top of you. Struggling to support his weight, you try to steady him.
He lets you. Then he picks you up.
He kisses you on the nose, and all you can do is blink in confusion before he throws you over his shoulder.
"Jason?" you whisper-yell. "Put me down right now."
"Nuh-uh." He sounds smug. "Can’t."
The world flips again as he plops you down beside him on the velvet couch. Now you’re sandwiched between the two of them.
You look at Roy, raising a brow. "What did you even give him?"
He smirks, raising his hands innocently. "He said he could handle it."
Jason is playing with your hair. He tugs on a strand before curling it around his index finger.
"Why is everyone looking at us?"
Roy laughs, bright and loud. "Jason couldn’t stop telling everyone about you. The cocktail guy, the—"
"Bouncer?"
He snaps his fingers. "Yeah." Roy grins. "You know, I thought he'd eventually run out of facts."
You blink. "Facts?"
"Oh, yeah." He starts counting on his fingers. "You brush your teeth for ten minutes— you’re a psycho for that, by the way. You like your toast overly done. You cry at movies, even if they’re not sad. He’s dissected the meaning of all of your favourite songs...”
You’re too dumbfounded to properly answer. Roy continues.
"You apparently have the prettiest smile in the tri-state area."
Jason nods solemnly. "It's true."
Roy whistles. "He's got it bad."
Jason is still playing with your hair. "You’re so pretty."
You turn to him with a smile, brushing his cheek softly. He immediately nuzzles into your touch. "Not as much as you."
He shakes his head. "No, no. You’re ridiculously pretty. Sometimes"— he drops his voice, as if you’re sharing some great secret—"when you smile, I forget how to think. Or when you do anything, really."
He wraps an arm around your waist until there isn’t even an inch of space between you. You can feel every line of his body, the hard muscle beneath his clothes. "My pretty, pretty girl."
You place a soft kiss on his lips. "I love you, Jay."
"And you also make me really hard."
Roy’s laughter is impossible to ignore. He slams a hand on the table, wheezing as he mumbles something between fits of laughter. You see him fumble for his phone out of the corner of your eye.
"Yesterday, for example, when you—"
"Jason," you say sternly.
His face falls. "Don’t be mad at me." He’s frowning now, his big green eyes glossy and wide.
You cup his face. "I’m not angry, baby."
"Oh, okay." He nods slowly. "I’m sorry I told Roy you snore."
"I do not—"
Roy nudges your shoulder. "According to Jason, you do."
Jason nods matter-of-factly. "When I can’t sleep, I listen to you breathe. So yeah. You snore."
Your heart pounds in your chest, steady and hard. You want to kiss him. Not just his lips. Everywhere.
Because who decided kisses on the lips were the most intimate? You’d kiss every scar, every freckle, every crook of his beautiful body. You want to worship him with kisses.
"And you make me soup," Jason continues, completely oblivious to the look of pure love on your face.
Roy blinks. "Okay?"
Jason sighs dramatically. "Not canned soup. Actual homemade soup she spends time and effort making."
"Congratulations.”
He rolls his eyes. "You don’t get it." Then his eyes find yours, unwavering. "But you do. You get me, and you love me."
"Of course I do, Jay.” You smile softly.
Jason smiles before resting his head in the crook of your neck. His eyes flutter shut as you run your fingers through his hair. "You’re my definition of an angel."
The next morning, Jason wakes up with a killer hangover and his entire body wrapped around you.
Then he bumps into Roy in the kitchen. He dies of embarrassment the second Roy holds up his phone to show him something.
The video shows nothing but the club ceiling, dim lighting, and red velvet. The audio, however, is crystal clear.
What if she’s hungry?
Jason physically cringes at the sound of his own whiny, worried voice. He’s never drinking again. Roy is barely holding in his laughter, the phone slightly shaking.
She’s an adult, man.
She forgets to eat. There’s a frustrated grumble. I can’t unlock my phone. Stupid numbers. A brief shuffle. The password is her birthday. You call her.
Jason wants to crawl into the Lazaurs Pit and disappear.
Hey! I love your works! Could I request Jason x reader with platonic Damian? For the scene I imagine reader taking Damian to do normal kid stuff and Jason tagging along realizing his brother IS still just a kid.
Thank you!
I love Damian like a son sometimes. He needs to be a kid and whimsical and fun. Anyways, thank you for this lovely request. I hope you like it!
Kandy's Writing Challenge
---------------
“The swingset?” Jason asks you incredulously. Damian kicks a rock on the sidewalk beside you.
You nod eagerly, “Yeah, just for a little bit. You can sit and read while Damian and I go play.”
“While you and Damian play?” his brows raise even higher.
You shove Jason’s shoulder at his tone as you laugh, “Yes, Jason Todd. I am going to steal your baby brother so that someone will swing with me.”
He huffs softly, “I’d swing with you.”
“I don’t want to swing with you,” you tease, “I want to swing with Damian.”
“Jeez,” He huffs before kissing you on the cheek, “I’ll sit and read then.”
“Great!” you cheer before your hand presses lightly to Damain’s shoulder so you can steer him towards the playground. Jason watches in curiosity as you both walk. He thought Damian would be dragging his feet a lot more.
He finally moves over to one of the benches on the walk near the playground, splitting his book open as he listens to you laugh at the swings. He shakes his head, smiling at your joy as he settles.
Five minutes in, Jason pauses in reading, not lifting his head, just listening. A cackle echoes across the playground. Kids were playing, and it could be any of them. However, Jason knows that cackle and the crackle is followed by your own laughter as you shout Higher babe!
Jason finally looks up to spot you and Damain. You're not in a swing yourself, but Damian is, to Jason's surprise, and swinging very high. You cheer as he swings forward, and when he comes back down, you're there to push him higher. Jason watches as the chains of the swing go lax at Damian's height, his laughter following before his swing back.
The book is shut and forgotten as he watches Damian, Robin, scream with laughter on the swingset. Damian laughs with each height of the swing. Jason supposes it's like the grapples when they’re on patrol, the brief moment where the line is loose and nothing is holding you up. It was usually followed by a tough landing, a roll or kick to some crook's stomach. The swingset held no such faults, just the moment of weightlessness.
You hand hooks on one of the chains, pulling slightly before releasing, slowing Damian slightly. Drag your feet, you instruct Damian, and soon his swing slows to a standstill. You're both grinning like fools as you leave the swings, giving them to the next few kids waiting.
“I think ice cream for dinner,” Jason hears you say as you both walk back over to him, “We won’t tell Bruce if you won't.”
“Todd,” Damian smiles, smiles at Jason, “Why did you never tell me how fun swings were?”
“Didn’t think you cared,” Jason admits guiltily because Damian was the heir to the demon head, son of Batman. He stares at him for a minute, and it’s almost like a gut punch. Damian was also a kid. It was something you always told Jason when he was being a little harsh. Jason clears his throat, “Ice cream?”
Your hand wiggles, and Jason takes it, standing up, “I saw a truck on our walk in. We can hit it on the way back to the car. You know what skipping is, Dami?”
Damian gives you a disgruntled look, but it doesn’t have the same heat as normal. “Yes, I know what skipping is.”
“Okayyy, do you know how to skip?” you reword.
Damian frowns a moment before he grumbles, “No.”
You seem far too excited as you let go of Jason's hand. “Let me teach you, bub.”
So Jason watches you teach Damian how to skip, something Jason learned in grade school. He silently beats himself up. The kid who leaped off of rooftops every night, the one who saved lives and complained about everyone being idiots, was being taught how to skip.
Jason looks at you with newfound gratitude. You always saw more than he thought, and he's not sure Damian would get the childhood he deserved from a family of vigilantes with beat pasts. No, your whimsical civilian ideas were much better
home advantage
soccer player!jason todd x fem!reader
summary: watching your boyfriend score the winning goal makes you incredibly proud but also unbearably horny.
tags: athlete au, early but established relationship, reader tries to care about soccer but keeps getting distracted, teasing, fluff, post-game smut (fingering, protected piv, multiple orgasms), soft!jason but he's a tiny bit cocky
wc: 2.3k
before jason, you never would’ve chosen to spend a saturday night watching soccer. now, only a few months into dating him, you’ve already spent several of them in the stands watching him play for gotham.
you’re still not a huge fan of the sport, exactly, but you really like jason, and that’s been enough to make you pick up more than you expected. you don't understand what makes one formation better than another and probably couldn't explain half the rules without jason filling in the gaps, but you're starting to recognize when his team is playing well and when he's definitely going to complain about the referee afterward.
tonight’s an away game, but only about an hour outside the city. you would’ve gone if your shift hadn’t ended too close to kickoff for you to make the drive. before he left, jason told you that you could watch from his apartment if you wanted. “i’ll come straight home after,” he added, trying not to sound too hopeful.
you agreed before you could pretend to think about it, which is how you end up curled into the corner of his couch a few minutes before kickoff, one of his spare jerseys hanging loose over your pajama shorts. the fabric smells faintly of his detergent and cologne, tempting you to pull the collar closer every so often just to breathe it in.
jason appears on-screen during the starting lineup, already slightly flushed from warming up. he shakes out his arms, rolls his neck, and glances toward one of his teammates with an easy smile. then the whistle blows, and it vanishes.
throughout the game, the camera keeps cutting back to jason. he’s shoulder to shoulder with another player one moment and sprinting after the ball the next, waving his teammates forward and shouting things you can’t make out over the crowd. his expression stays focused through all of it, and by halftime, his hair is plastered to his forehead.
you try to follow what's happening—there are passes and penalties and several moments where the commentators become very excited for reasons that escape you—but mostly, you watch jason. you watch the muscles in his legs flex when he sprints and the sweat shining along his throat whenever the camera catches him breathing hard. you watch another player slam into him and stumble sideways from the impact while he barely breaks stride.
at one point, jason lifts the bottom of his jersey to wipe the sweat from his face, exposing his stomach and the dark trail of hair disappearing beneath the waistband of his shorts. the camera cuts away way too quickly, and you glare at the wide shot of the field in disbelief.
“oh, come on,” you mutter at the television, offended that the broadcast apparently has no sense of priorities.
the camera finally finds him again with only a few minutes left and the score still tied. a second later, jason sends the ball into the back of the net. you’re on your feet before you even realize it, grinning as the stadium erupts around him. his teammates swarm him, grabbing at his shoulders and shouting into his face while he laughs beneath the stadium lights.
pride swells warm in your chest. you’ve come to know how quickly he starts picking apart his own performance, and you love seeing him celebrate before he can overthink everything he could’ve done better.
when his teammates finally let him go, jason drags both hands through his damp hair and tips his head back, his chest still heaving beneath the jersey clinging to his skin. the sight goes straight between your legs. you shift against the cushions and press your thighs together, but the friction only makes it worse.
the last few minutes of the game barely register after that. gotham holds the lead until the final whistle, making jason’s goal the one that wins them the game. by then, though, you’re mostly wondering how long it’ll take him to get home.
✮⋆˙
the lock turns sometime after midnight, and you’re halfway across the room by the time jason steps inside.
he’s changed out of his uniform into dark athletic shorts and a black v-neck t-shirt, his duffel hanging from one shoulder. a bruise is beginning to darken just above his knee, and exhaustion sits heavily around his eyes, though neither makes him any less attractive.
“hey,” he starts, then his eyes drop to the jersey you're wearing. “is that mine?”
you glance down at it, smoothing a hand over the number as if you need to check. “maybe.”
“i like seeing you wear my number.” his gaze lingers for another second. “looks better on you anyway.”
you answer by wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him, his bag hitting the floor as his hands find your waist. his hair’s still a little wet from the shower, and he smells like soap, but you can’t stop thinking about the way he looked during the game: sweat-soaked and running on adrenaline, his jersey plastered to his stomach tightly enough to show every line of muscle beneath it.
“congratulations,” you tell him when you pull away. “i’m really happy for you.”
a boyish smile crosses his face. “you watched all of it?”
“of course.” your hand slides down his arm, lingering over the thick curve of his bicep before you give it a small squeeze.
he kisses you again, softer this time, then leads you toward the couch. once you’re settled beside him, he stretches one arm along the back behind you. “so, what’d you think about the game?”
you look at him, meaning to give him a real answer, but your eyes drift to the chest hair peeking just above the neckline of his shirt, then lower, where the cotton pulls tight across his chest. by the time you meet his eyes again, you have no idea what you were about to say.
“i thought you...” your eyes dip again. “you looked good.”
jason blinks, amusement creeping into his expression. “you watched the whole game, and that’s all you got?”
“well, you did.”
his smile turns smug. “even all sweaty?”
especially then, you think, and your expression must give you away because jason tilts his head, studying you like he already knows the answer. heat floods your cheeks, and you narrow your eyes at him.
“you’re being annoying,” you mutter.
“that’s not a no.” he leans closer, one hand settling at your waist.
you kiss him before he can tease you again, drawing a low sound from his throat as his grip tightens. when you move closer, he pulls you onto his lap, your knees coming to rest on either side of his hips, hands bracing against his shoulders.
one of his hands slides up your back while the other rests on your thigh, thumb tracing absent circles over your bare skin until goosebumps rise beneath his touch. his lips move to your neck as he adjusts you on his lap, bringing one thigh between yours. when you rock against him, the loose fabric of your pajama shorts slips aside, leaving the damp cotton of your underwear pressed against his leg.
he laughs quietly into the crook of your neck. “you’re already this worked up?”
“since the game,” you admit, a little breathless.
he pulls back just enough to look at you. “seriously?”
you arch an eyebrow. “you thought i was lying when i said you looked good?”
his eyes darken at that, and the hand on your thigh slides higher, stopping right at the line of your panties. “can i?”
"please," you say, guiding his hand the rest of the way. his fingers slip past the fabric, and his breath hitches against your neck.
"oh, fuck," he groans before pressing one finger inside you, then another once you've adjusted. jason curls them slowly, the heel of his palm dragging over your clit with each movement. you grind against his hand, chasing each stroke of his fingers. when he presses even deeper, your next breath breaks into a low moan that he catches in another kiss before his mouth trails back to the hollow of your throat, open-mouthed and messier this time.
your fingers slide into his hair and tug, and his teeth graze your pulse. "jay—"
"i've got you," he murmurs against your skin.
the next curl of his fingers sends you over. you come with a sharp cry, your thighs closing around his wrist as your body trembles against him. he works you through it, slowing only when your hold on his hair begins to loosen.
when he finally draws his fingers from you, he tastes them with a quiet hum. your legs are still shaking, but the sight of him has your hands reaching for the hem of his shirt. "i want this off."
jason leans back without argument, letting you drag it over his head. your hands are on him immediately, palms flat against his chest before sliding down his stomach. every muscle tightens beneath your touch.
you kiss him again and let your hand drift even lower, palming him through his shorts. he stills beneath you for a second before pressing into your touch, one hand slipping beneath his jersey to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple until neither of you has much patience left.
“i’m taking you to bed,” he says, his voice rough. “i want more room.”
you nod, and jason rises from the couch with you still wrapped around him. one hand grips beneath your thigh while the other presses flat against your lower back as he carries you down the hallway.
he kicks the bedroom door open and sets you near the edge of the mattress, kissing you until you fall back against it. the jersey comes off first, followed by your shorts and underwear, all of it left somewhere near the foot of the bed.
jason pauses between your knees, his hands resting on your thighs as his gaze drags slowly over you until you can feel it like a touch. you hook your fingers into the waistband of his shorts, and he helps you tug them down before kicking them aside. his cock slips free, the weight of it settling against his stomach.
your teeth catch your bottom lip as your legs fall open wider, and before you can reach for him, he dips down and presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh. "hang on," he murmurs, reaching into the nightstand for a condom.
once he’s rolled it on, he settles between your legs and braces one hand beside you. the other wraps around himself, dragging his head through the slick between your thighs. you’re still sensitive from his fingers, and the contact makes your hips jerk beneath him.
his eyes meet yours as he lines himself up at your entrance. you curl a hand around the back of his neck and draw him down into a kiss as he pushes inside. the stretch draws a shaky breath from you, your hands sliding to his shoulders, nails digging in as he fills you. once his hips meet yours, he pauses, his mouth brushing the corner of yours.
“tell me you’re okay,” he whispers.
“i am.” you wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him close. “keep going.”
he draws almost all the way out before easing back inside, slow enough to let you feel every inch. the initial tightness begins to ease as he moves again, replaced by warmth spreading through you with each thrust. your hands travel down his back, fingertips tracing the raised scars scattered there before gripping his ass and pulling him closer.
jason groans and picks up the pace, each movement harder than the last, his breathing ragged in your ear. his free hand grips your hip and tilts you upward, and the change in angle makes your heels press harder into his back.
“right there,” you gasp, your head falling back against the pillow.
jason keeps the angle and drives into you, hitting the same spot with every roll of his hips. his chest presses heavy against yours as you bury your face in his neck, the pleasure building again. he kisses your temple and doesn't let up, each movement pushing you closer.
you come again with his name spilling from your lips, clenching hard around him. jason curses under his breath, his rhythm faltering, hips stuttering as he follows you over the edge.
he buries himself fully inside you, shuddering against you as his weight settles carefully over your body. his breathing gradually slows against your shoulder while your fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck.
eventually, jason shifts just enough to meet your eyes. he looks spent, his expression softer than usual. "this might be the best part," he murmurs.
you cup his cheek. "better than winning?"
“yeah.” his arms tighten around you. “i could get used to coming home to you.”
he pauses after saying it, like the thought slipped out before he could stop it. before he can take it back, you pull him down into a slow, sleepy kiss and feel him smile against your mouth.
he doesn't move for a while after that. just stays pressed against you, his heartbeat steady against yours until he nudges his nose against your cheek. "c'mon, let's clean up."
when he starts to get up, you catch his arm. "wait."
he turns to you. "what?"
you press your teeth gently into his bicep. he looks down at his arm, then back at you, and the confusion on his face melts into a tired, helpless laugh. "did you just bite me?"
"i've been thinking about doing that all night too."
he shakes his head, still laughing as he leans down to kiss your forehead. "yeah. definitely the best part of my night."
a/n: watched two world cup games and immediately had to make it about jason todd bc i'm annoying <3 also if any of the soccer stuff is wrong... no it isn't!
Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Fem!Reader (No use of y/n)
Summary: Zoro has no idea how to explain to you that his sword has feelings for you. At least, not without explaining that he himself has feelings for you. He's opted instead for keeping Kitetsu separated from you- a decision the cursed blade is not happy about. When Zoro falls asleep, it finds a way to call to you- and get back in your hands again.
CW: Minor Mentions of Violence- nothing detailed
Word Count: 1.8k
Part One: Swords & Sweethearts
One Piece Masterlist
Zoro Masterlist
➽──────────────❥
Zoro had been right.
Kitetsu began to cause problems. Well, more problems than usual.
Kitetsu had always been a ‘troublemaker’- as you liked to call it. Always trying to force his hand to fight. Always urging him to make the deeper cuts. Always insatiable for blood and carnage. It was considered cursed for a reason and every day it has proven itself worthy of the title.
Zoro had succeeded subjugating Kitetsu through all the time he’s spent training and fighting with it these past couple years- proving to the blade there was no one better than him to satiate its thirst. But, this is an entirely new kind of trouble that Zoro still wasn’t sure how to get a handle on.
For some unfathomable reason, the cursed sword has become quite attached to- and protective of- you.
Constantly, it is responding to you- to your voice, your presence. Kitetsu had always been his most active blade. But, over the past few weeks it has become far more… lively. And far more demanding.
When Zoro is separated from you, he can feel Kitetsu trying to force him towards your direction. It gets agitated when you’re not nearby and downright territorial when your attention is stolen away by any random stranger that feels entitled to it. Particularly, other men.
Zoro hasn’t exactly figured out why a sword would bother with that sort of distinction, but it probably has something to do with the jealousy that sometimes simmers in his own gut at the sight of it.
Because the most difficult part of navigating this new problem is separating his own feelings from Kitetsu’s. When it comes to you, he’s not entirely sure where his own urges end and Kitetsu’s begins. Or if they’re one and the same. Which, he realizes, is quite a real possibility.
Zoro has always recognized his blades as an extension of himself. While they have their own spirits, his is also irrevocably twined into each of them. And it seems the piece of him that has been so long carrying that torch for you burns particularly bright in Kitetsu. Which, the cursed blade seems to have greedily subsumed into itself.
Though, honestly, he can’t truly say for certain. It wasn’t something he exactly expected or something he’d ever learned about. Not from his first master, not from the old sword smith of his dojo, and not from Mihawk- who more intimately understood the relationship between swordsman and sword than anyone else he’d ever met.
Regardless, it doesn’t particularly matter why or how. He just needs to figure out how to deal with it now. Before it gets further out of hand than it already has. Zoro hasn’t told you about it- he’s not quite sure how to explain that his sword has feelings for you. Especially without explaining that he himself has feelings for you. He’s been keeping Kitetsu out of your reach as much as possible, thinking the distance would force it to stand down, but it seems to have had the exact opposite effect.
Kitetsu fights him at nearly every turn, expressing its dissatisfaction any way it possibly can. A few times it’s managed to lash out enough to catch your attention- a confused little frown as you watch it rattle in its own sheath, calling out to you. “Everything okay?” you asked, but Zoro just held Kitetsu in a vice grip and gritted out that everything was fine.
When he fights, if you’re present, Kitetsu is extremely compliant. Lending all its strength to Zoro and yielding eagerly to his wield. Working with Zoro to make every cut flawless and true- completely obliterating any threat in your vicinity.
After he defended you from a monstrous reptile on some unnamed island you hugged Zoro and he thought he would shoot straight into the moon. When you turned to the sword in his hand with a, “thank you too, Kitetsu!” the blade lit up with your praise. That was when it clicked for Zoro that it was showing off for you.
That was when it clicked that maybe he was too.
When he fights, if you’re not present, Kitetsu becomes extremely irate. Viciously bloodthirsty, lending itself to rending anything in its path until its done. Completely impatient to get back to you. Just like Zoro himself.
If Zoro intercepts a moment it seems Kitetsu might actually gain some of your attention, it becomes murderous. Taking it out on Zoro through the following fights in which he’d wield it. Fighting him on every single cut. “You know,” he finally snapped, “if you get me killed you’re not going to get any closer to her. She’ll leave you on my grave and you’ll rust right along with me.” His grin sharpened as he held Kitetsu up to his face, “and when I crawl back out of hell, I’ll leave you there while I go off to find her.” After that, Kitetsu begrudgingly submitted. Still giving him trouble, but no longer trying to send him off to an early grave.
Zoro lounges in the shade of the tree on the main deck, back against the trunk, eye closed. Leaned over the railing of the second story, you watch the way the sun leaves golden patterns across his skin through the leaves- the breeze gently blowing his hair over his forehead. Your heart squeezes, the way it always does when you look at him.
Particularly, the way you look at him in secret stolen moments like this.
You had always found him handsome. Had always been drawn to him, had always admired him and liked the way you felt in his presence. Not that he knew that, you’d never been willing to put that kind of strain on your friendship. You didn’t think he was interested in you like that and you didn’t want to burden your relationship with that kind of confession. It would make life way too difficult as nakama and crew.
So you settle for moments like this instead. Drinking in what you can of him from a safer distance. Dropping your head to your arms, you sigh with the breeze, soft cotton skirt caressing your knees. In your mind, you imagine descending the stairs and taking the place next to him, dropping your head onto his shoulder instead and closing your eyes to nap with him in the sun.
The light flares and the glint of it reflects off his swords at his side. All three laid out next to him. You blink as the light reflects on the exposed silver gleam of a blade. Blinking away the shine, you look to see Kitetsu slipped a bit from his sheath, a few inches of him exposed to the salty air. You’ve learned enough from Zoro to know that’s no good- he must have fallen asleep before he realized it.
Knowing Zoro probably won’t wake up before dinner, you move from your position and slowly head down the stairs. Surely, it’d be no problem for you to fix it. Nestle Kitetsu right back into his proper home and leave them there to the peaceful afternoon.
Quietly, you drop to your knees on the soft grass under the shady tree. Slowly, you move, not wanting to wake Zoro from his needed rest. He worked hard- trained hard- you don’t want to disturb him.
As one hand wraps delicately around the sheath and the other around the hilt, you move to slide Kitetsu back in- when you suddenly still.
Fingers around the sword, there’s a strange- but pleasant- warmth that seeps through your fingers and trails up your arms. There’s a soft touch that moves against your skin that stutters your breath and pebbles your flesh. Like breeze given form, fingers whisper slowly over your hands and up your arms- following the spreading warmth that blooms across your cheeks.
“What are you doing?”
You gasp, eyes snapping up to see Zoro looking at you through his cracked eye, still lounging back lazily. Your blush deepens, feeling like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t have, “I- I was- just-“ your voice stutters embarrassedly. Realistically, you didn’t think you were doing anything wrong, you were just trying to help. But, your heart hammers in your chest regardless. A surprised little gasp falls from your lips when you feel the ghostly touch brush across your neck.
Zoro snaps awake, eye darting to Kitetsu in your hands, touching it again for the first time since that day on the deck. “Drop it,” he snaps.
You freeze at his harsh tone, “I’m sorry,” you respond instantly, fingers tightening instinctively around the sword. Zoro’s eye goes back to your face and he bites his tongue. It wasn’t you he meant to scold, but he can see in your eyes you took the brunt of it. “I was just…” your eyes go down to Kitetsu and you quiet for a moment- before shaking your head and breaking the spell you’ve slipped into. Quickly, you slide him home and place him quickly back onto the ground. “His sheath slipped,” you mutter your excuse, eyes downcast. “Sorry-”
“Why do you say that?” Zoro interjects, voice softening with curiosity.
“I saw it from the upper deck," you explain, “I know you said it’s important to keep the swords protected from the elements, so I thought I would fix it while you were asleep.” Your fingers clasp together in your lap, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have touched-“
Zoro sits up, leaning forward- his own heart sinking as he realizes he’s made you feel like you committed an offense against him. “No, that’s okay,” he assurers. “You’re right, it should have been completely sheathed,” he looks pointedly down at Kitetsu, knowing it had been before he dozed off. “I meant…” you look back up at him, his brows coming together, “why do you say ‘he’ ?” Confusions begins to slide over your face and you tilt your head. “You always call Kitetsu ‘he’ ,” Zoro presses, “why do you do that?”
Your lip snags between your teeth as you let the question sink in. “I…” that adorable little crease forms between your eyes, “I don’t know.” You look down at the sword, head tilting, “I never really thought about it…”
Zoro simply grunts in response. “Thanks,” he says, eye not meeting yours, “for looking out… I appreciate it.” His words are stiffer than he wants them to be, but he hopes you can tell he means it.
You give him a small smile, “yeah, don’t mention it.” You rise from the grass, dusting off your skirt. Zoro’s heart skips a beat as it flutters around your hips, face heating as he looks up at you- so gorgeous standing over him. “Well, I’ll let you get back to your nap.” He can’t stop watching you even as you turn away from him. All the he wants to do in that moment is grab your hand and pull you down, curl you into himself and sleep with you pressed against his body.
But, instead he silently watches you walk across the deck, heart trailing after you.
There’s a rattle on the ground where Kitetsu shivers in his sheath- as if his was too.
He’s not smooth at all. Compliments come out like: “You’re strong. I like that.” and honestly… that’s the closest thing to poetry you’ll get from him.
Sparring matches are basically your dates. He’ll push you to your limits because he believes you’re capable of more. If you actually manage to knock him down once? He’ll be ridiculously proud.
Or rather… him getting lost and dragging you with him. You could be walking five minutes to the kitchen and somehow end up on the wrong side of the ship. The rest of the crew just sighs because this happens every day.
The second someone threatens you, the air changes. Roronoa Zoro doesn’t even need to raise his voice, people just know they’ve made a mistake.
You’ll spend a lot of time sitting together in silence. Watching the ocean. Him sharpening his swords while you relax nearby.
Sharing sake late at night. The conversations get deeper the longer the bottle lasts.
Zoro falls asleep everywhere. Sometimes that means leaning against you without realizing it. If someone points it out later he’ll just glare and deny everything.
He’ll stand guard while you sleep. Carry heavy things for you without making a big deal about it. Quietly making sure you’re safe.
Nami and Sanji absolutely notice the tension first. Sanji is dramatic about it. Nami just smirks every time Zoro sits next to you.
Once Roronoa Zoro decides you’re his person, that’s it. You’re part of his world now. And nothing on the Grand Line could make him abandon you.
but could I request a Jason Todd x reader where Jason has always been kind of rude or distant from the reader(cause he loves them) which causes an argument between the two.
So the reader decides to leave him while it starts pouring, ending the story as a love confession in the rain hehe(the reader is in love with him too that why they're upset and so on and so forth )
I suggest listening to 'Can't stop loving you' by Artemas, I feel like it matches the vibe
From, Cheese 🫶
FEEL GOOD
Masterlist
Word count: 1.7k
Pairing: Jason Todd x Vigilante!gn!Reader
Synopsis: Good news: Jason Todd has a crush on you. Bad news: He’s scared of his feelings. When this leads to avoidant behaviour and an argument, he finally spills how he actually feels.
A/N: Oh my god Cheese I can’t get over how nice this request was to get when I was on a drought of motivation. Thank you so much!! You’re so kind :> (For anyone else reading this she also writes fanfiction, I definitely recommend)
Gotham City is a place trapped by its own narrative. Caught in the grasp of an endless cycle of poverty, corruption and villainy, the city always has a storm brewing above it. It paints the sky in a mix of greys and dark blues, hiding the sun until it becomes impossible to tell where the skyscrapers end and freedom begins.
Still, sometimes it’s difficult for Jason to believe there is any true freedom in the first place.
Perhaps it’s a higher deity, puppeteering every aspect of his life; maybe his own, cruel past has more of a hold on him than he’d like to confront. Something makes him hold back, something won’t let him get close to you.
Now, he curses it more than ever.
Crossing Gotham’s skyline, it’s impossible to see further than a few blocks ahead through the torrential rain that batters the night. It’s heavy and cold and only the headlights of a few cars trundling along the streets below cut through the darkness. Yet, your figure is unmistakable where you march ahead of him.
Even wearing your vigilante suit with your back to him, he can see the tension emanating from your frame; the rigidity in your shoulders, the impulsiveness that you leap between buildings with, the way you ignore the shivers wracking your body and keep walking. Jason would hazard a guess that there’s a scowl plastered on your face right now too.
Perhaps if it were anyone else, he might not be so bothered. He might’ve left, given them space and allowed them to come up with angry perceptions of him until he goes to apologise. But this is you… and while he won’t admit how that changes things, it’s different.
Watching you bound over another gap between buildings, he follows with ease as he calls out to you. “Stop walking. What I said came out wrong.”
You grant him no response, continuing to storm away from him as the real thunder claps in the distance.
Jason can’t help but huff under his breath. Still, the selfish part of him that can’t let go of things keeps him following after you. “Come on. I don’t want to leave what happened like this.” He yells over the weather. “Just hear me out here.”
Rain lashes obnoxiously loud against a water tank as you speed past it, him quickly in tow. Though, he’s quickly distracted from the noise by the snobbishly neon billboard you stop beside, its vibrant colours illuminating your frame when you finally glance over your shoulder at him.
“I don’t think there’s anything to hear out, Jason.” You call back, voice calm even when the look in your eyes is not. “I understand perfectly clear what you think of me.”
“Then your idea of that is almost definitely wrong.” He protests, his shoulders tensing when you turn away from him again to seemingly walk away. “I’m just trying to explain myself here.”
Even over the rain, he hears your scoff loud and clear when you swivel around to glare at him once more. “Explain what?! Your dismissiveness? You avoiding me? The way you snapped at me literally 20 minutes ago? There is nothing to explain!”
“It’s just in your best interests!” Jason exclaims. “Your skills aren’t fit for this mission. If you go, you could get hurt!”
“Right. Like you said with the mission before this one, and then the one before that and the one before that. Am I fit for any mission in your eyes?”
“Well, yeah. You’re intelligent, strategic, strong.” The more Jason talks, the more he begins to stammer over his words. “You’re capable, but–”
“But what?” You finally snap, your hands gesturing just as wildly as they had been 20 minutes ago when you’d argued with him. “But you don’t want to be around me, that’s it.”
“I never–”
“You never said that. I know. That’s the issue here.” You interrupt him. “I don’t know why; I don’t even know if I want to know why. But for the past couple months you’ve been doing anything to get away from me and it’s becoming clearer and clearer.”
Momentarily stunned into silence, Jason can only stare at you, now entirely distracted from the lightning that crackles overhead.
“You rarely say anything when I’m going to do something with Tim or with Cass. It’s only missions with you that I’m suddenly not fit for it.” You continue ranting, stepping closer to him in your anger. “Not even just in missions either. I thought we were friends but you’ve entirely disappeared from my life out of work. It’s like you never liked me at all!”
“Okay, that’s not true.” Jason finally responds, his voice firmer. “I don’t hate you, I never have and I don’t think I ever could. Don’t act like I do.”
“Well, what else am I supposed to think? That this kind of behaviour is normal in friendships? Because I know it’s not, not even in the vigilante world.”
“I know. It’s just–” He cuts himself off with a long sigh that’s audible through his mask. The tension slowly deflates from his shoulders, his resolve seemingly faltering as he reaches up to pull off his helmet, letting it hang in his hand by his side. He doesn’t look at you when he finally speaks up again. “I worry that if I’m around you too much, then I’ll mess something up.”
“What?” You murmur, your eyebrows furrowing.
Jason’s free hand clenches at his side as if he’s struggling to even speak right now. “I worry that if I’m around you too much, then I’ll mess something up.”
“No, I heard you, Jason.” You reassure, the anger in your voice quietening to something softer. “But why?”
“Well,” His eyes glance at you before he looks down to the floor. “I sometimes can’t control how I act around you.” He swallows thickly. “I stumble over my words, I lose focus on things, I falter, I soften–”
When his eyes properly meet yours and he sees the myriad of emotions playing over your face, he clears his throat and tries to get on track again. “I can’t be on missions with you because I’d mess everything up. That’s why.”
The words hang in the air for a long moment. The billboard buzzes beside you, the rain continues to pour, you’re both drenched yet too emotional to care.
“But that’s not it.” You conclude.
Jason doesn’t respond initially, his gaze remaining on yours even when the thunder crackles behind him.
“Why do you feel that way, Jason?”
His expression softens as he stares at you, his eyes shifting all across your face as his body relaxes from what must be him giving up his pride. “Because I like you, Y/N.” He admits, his voice quiet yet booming through your head. “Not in the way I like everyone else. I like you.”
Somehow, the word love permeates in the air, an unspoken emotion that manages to radiate behind everything Jason says even when it’s too early for him to say it aloud.
“And…” He trails off for a few seconds, his eyes squeezing shut as if this is conjuring all of his courage. “… it scares me.” He finally opens his eyes to look at you again. “It scares me so I started pushing you away so I wouldn’t have to confront why.”
“Really?” Is all you can muster.
“Yes.” He mumbles. “I’m sorry. I’d understand if it’s ruined things or what you think of me. I wouldn’t blame you. But it’s the truth.”
It takes a few seconds–that feel more like eternity–for you to mentally process his words. His gaze somehow manages to stay on yours. Hopeful? Nervous? Has he given it up to fate?
You shift awkwardly on the spot before you finally respond. “Did you ever wonder why I hadn’t snapped before today? Why I let you dismiss me like that?”
“Yes.” He admits shyly, scratching the back of his neck with his free hand. “I convinced myself it was the benefit of the doubt… because we were friends.”
“That’s not it, Jay.” The familiar nickname falls back into place so easily it almost throws Jason off guard, having not heard it from you since he began distancing himself. “I didn’t disagree earlier because I didn’t want you to dislike me.”
Jason scoffs this time. “Why would you care about that? Of me out of everyone?”
“Because I like you too!” You blurt out before you can stop yourself. Your nerves build the longer the words hang in the air until you’re ranting. “I like you too. In the same way. But I thought you might’ve been acting like that because of something I did. So I assumed that if I tried to brush past it, maybe you would still like me back rather than have me push you over the edge.”
Jason blinks at you, his stare full of much more than you can unpack through appearance alone. “Hang on… You like me too?”
A shaky breath falls from your lips. “Yes. I guess I was trying to hold onto what we had before, but I would’ve never guessed tha–”
Before you can even process what’s happening, you’re interrupted by Jason placing a hand on the back of your neck, gently but deliberately pulling your face to his. Your lips meet as eagerly as the lightning that crashes through the sky above you, yet all of the rain, the buzzing, the cold is immediately drowned out by him.
You instantly throw your arms around his neck, his other arm snaking around your waist until there’s no space between you anymore. You can only feel the kiss, filled with the vibrant colours of the billboard beside you and the dark familiarity of Gotham, yet defined by the love hidden inbetween.
It’s only after a long minute that you finally pull back just enough to catch some air. His breath brushes against your lips, his hair sticks slightly to your forehead from the proximity while his nose brushes affectionately against yours. His warmth is everywhere while, for once, Gotham’s sadness retreats away.
“Glad that’s settled.” He whispers against your lips, smirking to himself.
Smiling too, you press closer as you murmur playfully. “I’m not exaggerating when I say that might be the most romantic experience I’ve ever had.”
His hand is rubbing gentle circles on your side as his lips brush against yours again. “Then you wouldn’t mind another kiss, right?”
“Of course not.”
Title’s song: Feel Good Inc by Gorillaz and De La Soul
Synopsis: Jason have one weakness. He's so ticklish it's crazy.
Pairing: Jason Todd x reader
Words: ~900
Saw someone say that since Jason never felt any kind of touch, he's so sensitive that he's super ticklish and I couldn't stop thinking about it :>
The writing is ass but it's okay lol. Hope you will enjoy it <3
It was rare for the two of you to have nights like this. No patrol, no work tomorrow that has you go to bed early. Just the two of you, on your small couch in your even smaller apartment. But it was yours and a good excuse to be squished against Jason's side.
And you were currently doing that, the TV long forgotten in front of you as you were just talking about what happened today, exchanging small kisses when one of you was feeling like it.
"And then I went to the bakery with Damian after school because I wanted to spend time with him." You continued to explain your day to your boyfriend, cheek squished against his chest.
"You spend more time with my brother than me." Jason chuckled, the sound warming up your heart.
"That's because he likes me better."
"Can't blame him." You heard him muttered, his fingers squeezing your arm before going up and down in a soothing motion.
"I heard you, Jay." A big smile came onto your face before you hugged him tighter, your fingers brushing his side.
But the moment they did, you felt him tense, his body straightening at the mere contact of your fingertips against his covered skin.
"Baby?" You asked, a concerned look on your face. Weren't you aware of some kind of injuries he had.
Your boyfriend just shook his head, lacing his fingers with yours. "Nothing, don't worry about it. Just... uh. Sensitive, I guess." He tried to shrugged it off but the way his earsa were turning pink and his gaze wouldn't meet yours told you enough about the situation.
A big grin took place on your face as you broke free of his tight hold on your hand. "Sensitive?" You asked, feigning innocence as both of your hands were creeping up to rest on his side.
"Don't even think about it, I swear to God."
But it was too late, because just a second after those words left him, you were starting to tickle him, fingers gentle against his skin.
Jason was starting to squirm at your touch, a shaky laugh leaving his pretty pink lips.
"Baby, s-stop." He tried to say between laughs, his hands coming to grip your hips to have something to anchor himself with. And certainly a reason just to touch you.
You went to kiss his cheek, your fingers stopping their torturous tickles. "Didn't know you were that ticklish. " You hummed, a big smile on your face at that news.
Jason just sighed, his forehead coming to rest on your shoulders, his ears a shade redder than before.
"Shut up. I'm just... not used to that." He tried to shrug it off, pulling you closer so you were sitting on his lap.
"Used to what?"
"Being touched." His voice was a soft whisper, like he was embarrassed to even say the reason out loud. Like saying it and admitting something so fragile could make you think less of him.
But you were happy he was getting comfortable with you to share those small things with you, showing how trusting he was and how much better he got at those relationship things that could be hard after what he went through.
"Does that make you uncomfortable?" Your voice was soft as you asked him that, letting him know that it was a safe place to talk about whatever was going on in his mind.
You felt his head shake against your neck, lips brushing your bare skin with the movement. "No. Never. I'm just more sensitive since... you know. Never really felt that before."
You kissed the top of his head before cupping his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. "You're so brave to tell me that, baby. So so brave." You cooed at him, your smile getting bigger at the sight of his red cheeks.
"M'not a baby, stop talking like that." Jason looked away, his skin feeling warm under your fingertips.
Your lips met his in a soft kiss that he quickly reciprocated, hands creeping up to wrap softly around your neck, his thumb stroking lightly the side.
His tongue teased your bottom lips, asking for permission to deepen the kiss that you happily gave.
The kiss was starting to get heated, tongues brushing and teeth clanking together. You were starting to pant into each other's mouths, hands holding any part that they could reach.
But without thinking, your hands just went down to his side, brushing lightly his side, earning a shaky breath.
"Don't." You heard Jason's voice say the word muffled against your lips.
"What? Can't tickle my boyfriend anymore?" You asked with a big teasing grin on your swollen lips.
"Not when we're making out."
"Too late." And those were your famous last words before you started to tickle him mercilessly, earning a lot of giggles coming from him.
Hearing him laugh and seeing him so comfortable always made you the happiest because you were able to make him experience those little things he missed during the childhood he unfortunately didn't get.
And it was the prettiest sight ever to see a big smile on Jason's face.
an. thank you sm for the request. hope you enjoy beloved <33!
he doesn’t say anything about it. that moment in the bar. he just gets quiet in that specific way he does, helmet off, sitting on the edge of your bed with his elbows on his knees and his jaw tight, staring at the floor like it owes him something.
you’d watched the whole thing earlier. some guy at the bar, just talking to you, harmless flirting, and you’d watched jason watch it from across the room and seen the exact moment something in him went small and sad underneath all that armor.
you don’t make him say it. you already know and making him say it would be cruel.
you just cross the room and stand between his knees and he doesn’t look up at first, just tips forward and presses his face into your stomach like he’s hoping you won’t notice. you notice. your hands find his hair immediately, carding through it slow, and you feel him exhale against you, shoulders dropping a fraction.
“you know that meant nothing,” you say softly.
his hands come up to the backs of your thighs and grip there.
“jason.”
“i know,” he mumbles into your stomach. he doesn’t sound like he knows.
“hey.” you tug his hair gently until he tips his face up, and there it is, the raw lost look he saves for no one, or maybe just for you. “there’s nothing to be jealous of. there’s nothing. you know that right?”
his jaw works. “i’m not jealous.”
“okay,” you say, very gently. “you know that right?”
something in his face crumples just slightly. he nods once, small, and turns his face back into your stomach and you let him, hands moving soft through his hair until you feel the tension leaving him piece by piece.
you kiss him after, slow and sure, and he makes a sound against your mouth that breaks your heart a little. it’s a mix of desperate and relieved all at once, hands sliding from your thighs to your waist and pulling you in like he’s been thinking about it all night. which he has.
you ease him back onto the bed and he goes willingly, taking you with him, hands restless and a little clumsy in a way he never is otherwise, touching you everywhere like he needs to remind himself you’re here and you’re his even if neither of you have said that out loud yet. when you finally sink down onto him he goes completely still, breath punching out, eyes finding yours in the dark and staying there. you move slow and he lets you set the pace, jaw loose, one hand spread warm at your hip and the other coming up to touch your face like he can’t help it. “you’re so pretty,” he says, barely a breath, not really to you, more like something he’s telling himself. you smile softly, your cheeks turned a smidge darker from his compliment.
you take care of him until he’s got nothing left to be sad or jealous about, until he’s spread out underneath you with his eyes glassy and his chest heaving and that tight jaw finally, finally loose. and when it’s over he pulls you down against his chest and locks both arms around you and says nothing, just holds on with the quiet desperation of someone who doesn’t know how to ask for what he wants and is so relieved you already knew.
“i really wasn’t jealous,” he says eventually, into your hair.
bestfriend!yuji who thinks that he has no chance with you (he definitely does)
fluff
it was getting entirely out of hand, to the point where megumi’s left eye had developed a microscopic, rhythmic twitch whenever all of you were in the same room.
there was a distinct difference between being a good friend and whatever it was that yuji was doing. yuji wasn’t operating on normal human frequencies anymore; he was a highly concentrated wave of devotion that required him to subconsciously monitor your exact coordinates, comfort levels, and nutritional needs at all times. the truly agonizing part of this whole situation was that yuji honestly, genuinely believed he was pining from a tragic, unrequited distance.
“man,” yuji sighed, his chin resting heavily on his arms as he slumped over the small wooden table in the break room. he looked like a golden retriever that had been left out in the rain, despite the fact that he was perfectly dry and had eaten three bowls of rice an hour ago. “i just... i don’t know how guys like gojo-sensei do it. how do you even get someone like that to notice you? she’s so cool. fushiguro, be honest, do you think she likes guys who can cook? i could learn how to bake those fancy little french pastries. the ones with the layers. do you think she’d like that?”
megumi didn’t look up from his book. he simply turned the page, his knuckles whitening slightly against the paper. “itadori. you made her bento this morning. it was shaped like a bear.”
“that was just a nutritional baseline!” yuji defended instantly, sitting up with a look of pure, desperate longing in his eyes. “a person needs a balanced breakfast! that doesn’t mean she wants to hold my hand during a movie! i’m practically invisible to her, man. i’m just the guy who hangs around and breathes her oxygen. if i asked her out, she’d probably laugh and think i was pulling a prank. my heart would literally disintegrate into ash. like a cursed spirit, fushiguro. gone.”
megumi finally closed his book with a soft, ominous thud. he stared at his friend, trying to calculate how much brain damage yuji had sustained in his life to arrive at this specific level of dense. “yesterday, she said she was slightly warm, and you constructed a makeshift fan out of cardboard within four seconds. you didn’t even use cursed energy. you just moved your hands really fast.”
“that’s just basic manners!”
“you carried her up three flights of stairs because her shoelaces were untied and you didn’t want her to trip,” megumi countered, his voice dangerously level.
“the stairs were slippery!” yuji wailed, burying his face in his hands. “you don’t get it. she’s like... a masterpiece. and i’m just a guy who knows how to do a kickflip. i have no chance. zero. negative numbers.”
before megumi could commit a felony, the sliding door opened, and you walked in alongside nobara. the second your shoes crossed the threshold, yuji’s entire posture changed. it was an instantaneous shift; his spine straightened, his ears practically perked up, and his eyes locked onto you with a degree of focus usually reserved for high-stakes exorcisms.
“hey,” you said, offering a small, tired smile as you dropped into the empty chair next to yuji. “the training grounds are freezing today. i think the wind is coming straight from the mountains.”
yuji didn’t say a word. he didn’t even look at his own hands as they moved with the practiced efficiency of a surgeon. within three seconds, he had took off his oversized, fleece-lined red hoodie, shrugged it off himself, and gently helped you put it on. he tucked the soft fabric around you, his fingers lingering for just a fraction of a second against your collarbone to make sure the chill was sealed out, before pulling his hands back and shoving them into his uniform pockets.
“thanks,” you mumbled, instantly buried in his warmth and the faint, comforting scent of laundry detergent and whatever body wash he used. you pulled the sleeves over your hands, sinking into the collar.
“yeah, of course,” yuji said, his voice dropping into a soft, casual register that completely contradicted the fact that his internal organs were currently performing backflips. “can’t have you catching a cold. you’ve got that exam tomorrow, right? need your brain working at a hundred percent.”
nobara paused, her hand hovering over the back of a chair as she watched this sequence of events play out. she looked at yuji, then at you buried in his giant hoodie, then over at megumi, whose jaw was clenched so tightly he looked like a gargoyle.
“hey, yuji,” you said, reaching into your pocket and pulling out a slightly bruised mandarin orange you’d grabbed from the cafeteria. “do you have a knife? the skin on this one is really thick.”
“i got it,” he said immediately.
he took the orange from your hand. yuji didn’t use a knife. he used his thumbs, peeling the rind away in one seamless, removing the little white strings so you wouldn’t have to deal with the mess. his fingers were steady, careful, and incredibly gentle as he split the fruit into perfect, individual segments. he laid them out neatly on a clean napkin he’d pulled from literally nowhere, pushing the finished product toward you with a small, encouraging nod.
“there you go. the sweet ones are usually the smaller pieces,” he murmured, his eyes tracking your expression to ensure you were satisfied.
“you’re a lifesaver,” you said, popping a segment into your mouth.
yuji’s face remained entirely neutral, but megumi could see the way the boy’s legs were practically vibrating under the table from the sheer rush of being praised. it was pathetic. it was magnificent. it was driving megumi to the brink of insanity.
“so,” nobara started, leaning against the counter and crossing her arms. her eyes narrowed as she watched yuji reach over, pick up your heavy leather canvas bag from the floor, and settle it comfortably over his own knee so it wouldn’t get dirty. “itadori. can i ask you a question?”
“hmm?” yuji looked up, his hand still resting protectively near your side of the table. “what’s up, kugisaki?”
“what did you do an hour ago?”
“i went to the convenience store down the street,” he said, blinking innocently.
“and what did you buy?”
“oh! i got that specific chocolate drink with the milk and two pumps of vanilla. the one with the extra meringue sprinkled on top.” yuji reached down into his bag and pulled out the plastic cup, which was perfectly chilled, sweating slightly against his palm. he placed it right next to your napkin of oranges, straw already unwrapped and inserted. “here. they finally had the good meringue back in stock.”
you blinked, looking up from your fruit. “wait, really? they told me yesterday they were out until next week.”
“i asked the guy to check the back crates,” yuji said, giving you a bright, close-eyed grin that could have easily powered a small metropolitan area. “told him it was an emergency. he found a whole tin of it.”
megumi made a sound in the back of his throat that sounded like a dying bird.
nobara stared. she stared at the chocolate drink, then at the peeled oranges, then at the enormous red hoodie currently engulfing your torso. she looked at yuji’s face, which was full of nothing but pure, desperate desire to please you, completely devoid of any realization that he was acting like a husband of ten years.
slowly, with the deliberate precision of a predator stalking its prey, nobara walked around the table. she didn’t say a word until she was standing directly behind yuji. then, with a sudden, violent burst of movement, she reached down, grabbed a fistful of his inner uniform collar, and yanked him backward out of his chair.
“woah! kugisaki—choking! choking!” yuji gasped, his hands flying to his throat as she dragged him a few feet away from the table.
“shut up,” nobara hissed, her voice a terrifying whisper as she pointed a manicured finger directly at you, who was currently taking a sip of the perfectly customized latte. “look at that. look at her.”
“i’m looking!” yuji squeaked, his cheeks flushing a violent, immediate pink. “she looks great! the hoodie suits her, right? do you think i should buy her one for her birthday? or is that too forward? maybe a scarf? a scarf is safer—”
“yuji,” nobara interrupted, her voice dropping into a range that promised physical violence. “what the hell? i thought you guys were dating?”
yuji froze. his entire body went rigid, his eyes widening to the size of dinner plates as his brain completely stalled out, the gears grinding to a screeching halt. “w-what?” he whispered, the syllable popping out of him like a deflating balloon. “dating? us? no! no way! we’re not—i mean, i wish, but no! why would you say that? don’t say that out loud, she’ll hear you and get weirded out and then i’ll have to move to a different country!”
“are you sharing a single brain cell with the curses you fight?” nobara demanded, shaking him by his collar until his pink hair flew in every direction. “you peeled her fruit! you gave her your clothes! you went into the back storage room of a convenience store for a specific topping because she mentioned it once days ago!”
“that’s just being neighborly!” yuji yelled back in a panicked whisper, his hands flailing. “if fushiguro wanted an orange, i’d peel it for him too!”
“if you touch my food, i will sever your fingers,” megumi said from the table, not looking up.
“see? fushiguro’s just picky!” yuji argued, turning back to nobara with a look of absolute, soul-crushing earnestness. “i’m not dating her, kugisaki. i’m just... trying really hard to be a good friend so she keeps letting me sit next to her. if i told her how i actually feel, she’d realize i’m just a big dummy who follows her around like a stray dog.”
nobara let go of his collar so abruptly that yuji stumbled backward, hitting the wall with a soft *thud*. she stared at him, her expression a mix of profound disgust and deep, spiritual exhaustion. “you.. are a medical marvel,” she muttered, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “i genuinely don’t know how you survive on a daily basis.”
“hey, yuji?” your voice cut through the tension, clear and soft from across the room.
yuji was back at the table before nobara could even blink, his entire demeanor resetting into that attentive, hovering stance. “yeah! what’s up? is the drink bad? is it too sweet? i can go back—”
“no, it’s perfect,” you said, looking up at him through your eyelashes, your fingers curling around the warm ceramic of your hands inside his large sleeves. a very real, very noticeable shy smile had crept it’s way to your pretty face. “i was just wondering... if you weren’t busy tonight, maybe you could help me study? and... i don’t know. we could get dinner after? just the two of us?”
yuji stopped. the entire world seemed to drop away around him. his heart gave a massive, violent thud against his ribs, his chest tightening in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with training or stamina. he looked at the shy smile on your face, the way your fingers were twisting the hem of his hoodie, and something in his chest completely melted into puddle of warm, gooey mush. he knew damn well he didn’t know shit about math.
“yeah,” yuji said, his voice softer than usual, a genuine, completely unforced smile breaking across his face as he leaned down slightly, bringing himself to your eye level. “i’d love to. i’ll make sure you pass that test, okay? whatever you want to eat, it’s on me.”
from the corner of the room, nobara let out a loud, dramatic groan, throwing her hands in the air as she turned toward the exit. “i can’t do this anymore. fushiguro, we’re leaving before the sheer density of his skull creates a black hole and swallows the school.”
“agreed,” megumi said, already standing up and slipping his book into his pocket, passing yuji with a look that said you owe me your life.
as the door slid shut behind them, yuji didn’t even notice. he was already pulling up another chair, drawing himself right next to you, his shoulder brushing against yours as he reached out to slide the rest of the oranges closer to your hand.
Burnt to the Core ♨ Chapter 3 | reader(f) x Firelord Zuko
synopsis: you are firelord zuko's direct attendant. zuko has long reformed the fire nation after ozai's takedown and zuko's assuming of power. but now you had a challenge of your own: your feelings for the firelord. what was just a simple crush turned out to be more trouble than you would have imagined. but it may have been worth it.
word count: 5085
warnings: no spoilers of the movie (besides using this gif here + how gaang now looks as adults). this is mature (MDNI + trigger warning), as a lot of violence/sexual topics will be brought up. For this chapter: SA tw
authors note: ahh im so sorry for such a late post! but thank you all for your patience. i hope this does not trigger anyone, as the topic is sensitive. ik i put a warning, but nonetheless.
TAGLIST CLOSED
***ONLY PUBLISHED ON TUMBLR***
The nerves were catching onto Lord Zuko, and a bit too quickly.
There he sat, not feeling so high and mighty, in his throne while being presented with the scene before him. A large table was set in the room, a foreign object in his usual place of study and work. But, considering his opposition to the War Chamber, this was Lord Zuko meeting halfway. And, ornate around the room were several Ladies in Waiting, who were setting the table, dusting the pillars, and preparing the chafing tables.
Lord Zuko looks to the side, studying the chafing table carefully. Several, large plates were also being brought and set on each burner of the chafing table. It always impressed him how the workers of the palace operated so efficiently, and in tune with one another. As he watched the set up unfold before him, his amber eyes continued to glance back at the entrance. He would never admit it, but someone else already caught onto his anticipation.
Master Iroh, who had a seat fixed beside Lord Zuko, had a smile of mischief on his face. He promised his grandson that he’d never let him do these meetings alone, considering Master Iroh has taken up the responsibility of guiding him. But, despite Lord Zuko developing his cold and authoritarian face, Master Iroh can always look past it. Lord Zuko was waiting to see you, and it was a little too obvious.
And, almost like Lord Zuko wished it into reality, you slipped into the room. But, his eyes widened at the very sight of you. Your hair, which was usually fixed in a high bun, was loose and dancing with the air produced by your stride. Your hands were occupied with the handle of a gueridon. On it were all the tools you needed to offer tea to all the lords and nobility you’d be serving today.
Lord Zuko’s anxiety waned, and was replaced with something unbeknownst to him: attraction. You were always beautiful in his eyes, but seeing your hair out did something to his mental function. He watched as you set the gueridon beside the chafing table where the food will maintain its warmth and be served at. A few of your fellow ladies speak to you, with words Lord Zuko could not make out.
But, his eyes remained fixed on you, and he had been taken aback by your next actions. You go down the line of the burners, illuminating them with flames drawn by your own hand. Then, you had him at the edge of his seat: you put your hand in one of the flames before promptly retracting it. Fire benders are not foreign to getting burnt, and that should have definitely hurt you. It was almost as if you were testing to see if the flame you produced was truly hot. But, there you were, taking in ‘thank you’ by the handful as you quickly prepared your tea station.
Lord Zuko didn’t realize it or notice it himself, but his breathing became heavy. Not by nerves, but by this alluringness that he could not resist. You were working swiftly, with a much larger kettle taking the most space of your work station. Another fire bursts out from your hand, its flames dancing with streaks of blue. As the flames worked their warmth into the kettle, you quickly couch down, your hair flying upward in the process. You retrieve a sizable box from one of its compartments and quickly make your way to the long meeting table.
As the other ladies had set the plates, utensils, and cups, you opened the box and started from the closest side of the entrance. Lord Zuko curiously watches as you place some sort of bulbous item into each tea cup. But, he was patient and knew that you would eventually have to come up to the throne to prepare his and his uncle's cup. And, as anticipated, you look over at him and start making your way over.
You felt shy, but this feeling was not sudden. No, as soon as you went into the kitchen earlier, with devious looks from the other girls' faces, you knew your fate. During meetings like this, all the ladies took the opportunity to spruce up their looks. You had no intention in partaking, as those efforts are for ladies who seek marriage from a potentially single nobleman. You were not applicable to such dreams, thus you kept it as such. But, those girls were always ever so daring and still wanted you to join their makeover session.
Perhaps not a nobleman, but maybe a certain ruler? One girls’ teasing words danced in your mind, but you dismissed it. It doesn’t matter if you could even captivate someone with so much power like Firelord Zuko. In the end, you have nothing to offer. You were a tea maker, daughter of tea sommeliers, from a small village. Why in the world would someone of such high stature choose someone like you?
But there Lord Zuko was, ever so excited at your arrival, without you knowing it. You first went up to Master Iroh, bowing respectfully. “Good evening, Master Iroh. Please allow me to prepare your tea for you.” Master Iroh nods, giving you permission as you quickly reach back into your box to reveal a flower.
Before Lord Zuko could get a word in, Master Iroh quickly leans in, staring directly at the flower in your hand. “May I ask what this is?” Master Iroh’s voice was low, but gentle and curious enough that made you smile widely.
“This is a globe amaranth,” you hum quietly. You gently place it into his cup, making sure it remains upright. “It’s a delicious tea, but its beauty is in the process of making it. You will see what I mean when I pour the hot water later.”
“I look forward to trying it,” Master Iroh’s genuine tone had always made your time at the palace more easy. He reminds you that not only were you invited here on a needs basis, but you were also wanted here.
You then approach Lord Zuko, who leans back into his chair, partially from the sudden overwhelming feeling of being in your presence. You giggle before taking a bow before him, “good evening, Lord– Firelord Zuko.” You mentally hit your forehead from the mistake, earning a wide smile from the Firelord before you.
“Good evening, y/n,” he hums warmly, sitting up straighter in the hopes that you’d push on into his personal space. Of course, with everyone around, he knew you wouldn’t. But, a man could dream, right? “I finally get to see tonight's surprise tea.”
“I think you’re going to like it very much,” you excitedly mention. You look into your box, searching for the one flower you saved just for Lord Zuko. It was the most intact, and promised a beautiful bloom once poured with hot, steaming water. You gently place it in his tea cup, ensuring it was straightened and aligned to perfection. “It’s nothing you’ve ever seen before.”
“I look forward to it,” he engages with your enthusiasm. Lord Zuko felt like putty hearing your excitement for something as simple as tea. It was always comforting to see you so content in your craft, and those dazzling eyes whenever you spoke so confidently and excitedly about the teas you were preparing. “Speaking of,” he begins, his tongue hesitant but honest, “I’ve never seen you like this… as in, your hair.”
You immediately let out a tired sigh, “I apologize for my sudden change in appearance, Firelord Zuko. My fellow ladies have decided that my looks were a significant part of my job tonight.” You notice Lord Zuko eyes a strand that went stray and hung right in the middle of your face. His temptation to tuck it himself was high, but you had already quickly done it yourself. Not that he could even do it himself initially, but again, one could dream.
“It looks nice,” Lord Zuko utters, careful not to directly compliment your beauty with more intense words. You were one of the few ladies who put in effort into your looks, as you were there to serve your job. Not that you did not want to, but would rather save the extra hour in the morning to sleep in. “You look different.”
To save yourself from the tension slowly arising, you quickly point at Lord Zuko’s bangs, “and you look like you’ve been touching your hair.” You didn’t mean to scold him, but you put quite a lot of effort in doing his hair, despite how sopping wet he left it for you. “I’m gonna have to keep a comb handy around you, Firelord Zuko.”
He takes his chance, “I know I messed it up, but do you mind fixing it again?”
“You needn’t ever ask, my Lord.” You put down your box and carefully adjust those dark locks again, which to your surprise, was completely dried. You make yourself quick, as the meeting quickly approaches. Additionally, you would hate for Chamberlain to be up at the throne, touching on the Firelords hair.
Of course, Lord Zuko was relishing in your touch. May the meeting be damned if it meant living in your care for a minute longer. But, he had a duty to fulfill, not just for himself but for the Fire Nation as a whole. “Thank you very much, y/n. I appreciate you greatly.”
You pull your hand back, satisfied with your work and offer another bow, “of course, my Lord.”
The meeting finally started, and it was nothing short of weighty.
Noblemen from all Fire Nation clans came, taking their respective seats and contributing to the seriousness of the room. You made sure to keep your mind focused, ensuring everything goes well on your end. It felt like a play, with everything performing their role and waiting their turn. You were on first, which really didn’t help with your nerves.
When Chamberlain Minji gives you a look, you nod and quickly take hold of the large kettle. Unfortunately, its weight was something you did not consider when utilizing it. It was such a beautiful, light blue porcelain, and it would be a shame not to use it, especially for a meeting with many respectable noblemen as guests at the palace. But, it refused your hands, the weight too unbearable for your arms to handle.
Fortunately, Lord Zuko was swift and subtle, only using a finger to point at the closest guard to you, then gesturing to the kettle. The guard made haste, taking the kettle gently in his hold and awaiting your instruction. But, Lord Zuko would be lying if he wasn’t just a twinge bothered by the guards hands brushing against your own when taking a hold of the kettle as instructed.
Nonetheless, everything seemed to be going well. The tea was being distributed actively, with you taking head and teaching the guard the art of gentle pouring. He, and the lords were astonished, looking into their cups as they watched the tea bloom open, and ascend from the bottom. You couldn’t help but giggle just a bit, relishing in the foreseen excitement.
Lord Zuko and Master Iroh even shared in this excitement, the two in awe at the tea's bloom. You were quite proud of yourself for Lord Zuko’s reaction as you had given him the perfect flower for his tea. It bloomed, its green petals stemming outward slowly to reveal this almost ruby-like bud in its center. He had to keep himself from grinning too widely, considering the audience he was sitting in front of. But, he gifted you a wink from his scarred eye, confirming that he was very content with the surprise you had teased about earlier that day.
The meeting continued well. As you stood to the side, you kept your head down and listened intently to his words. You weren’t exactly paying attention to the content of his words, but rather the confidence and commanding nature of his tone. You listen to the way his tone shifts, whenever the topic becomes a little more serious than the one prior. Concurring sounds ensue with every topic he touches on.
Then, you’re back in the show.
“Sai,” you hear your name from that usual, cold voice. The Chamberlain gestures for you and all the Ladies in Waiting to go to the table where the remaining food sat. “Start reheating these. Some of the men may want additional portions.”
You nod, distributing your flame gently with your hands. You did your job calmly, the pressures of hosting now long gone. Everything had been going so smoothly, especially with everyone's collaboration. Lord Zuko seemed satisfied, so there was no need to be so concerned. And then, it finally happened.
“A-ah!” You hear Rin grimace loudly, having your neck crack to find her. She was at one end of the table, attempting to pick up a tray of piping hot potatoes with her bare hands. Fire benders are not immune to fire and intense heat. When you rush to her and grab her wrists, her fingers and palms were already this shiny, pink hue. She had burned herself.
“What happened to the mits?” You whisper quietly, recalling the mittens she had earlier that evening.
“I-I just thought it wasn’t too hot, s-so I just…” Rin stammered, doing her best not to shed a tear and make a bigger scene. You quickly operated, insisted on other ladies to take her away and to a doctor while you took care of the rest. Your hands take hold of the tray, and you start making your rounds around the table, making sure to ease your grip a bit so the metal does not push the boundaries of your resistance.
With a ladle, you carefully added the requested portions on many of the noblemen' s plates. Your enthusiasm was short lived, replaced with anything but honest feelings when approaching Lord Indra. “Lord Indra,” you begin quietly, a smile forced by the spirits. “Would you like more potatoes?”
“I would love some, beautiful,” he murmured, his eyes first scanning your face before lowering to your hands. You add the potatoes as requested, ensuring it did not touch anything else on his plate. It wasn’t to his preference, but for your OCD tendencies. “I see heat doesn’t seem to phase you much.”
You look at him, surprised at his sudden comment, “yes, my body seems to take heat very well.” What a wrong choice of words. Though, you could not be blamed for the sort of man that Lord Indra was.
“Is that right?” He quietly lets his words trail off. As you adjusted the tray in your hand (though the satisfaction of the mess on Lord Indra would have been endless), Lord Indra shifted in his seat. You suddenly felt something pull at your robe, before feeling a grab on your rear. You jumped, but you made sure to be silent, considerate not to interrupt the meeting, and Lord Zuko’s words.
But, the feeling of disgust swept your body completely, as you were terrorized by the foreign touch. You were still unable to react because you truly couldn’t. And, almost on purpose, Lord Indra abused the knowledge he just collected and you felt something close to a sear against the same place of your rear. He quickly retracts his hand, but there was a sting that broke your focus for the moment.
The meeting was interrupted anyway, and Lord Zuko met your eyes. Concern cloaked those wonderful amber eyes, and something else broke in you. For his sake, you mustn't cry. For his sake, you mustn't do a single thing. A smile was carved along your lips, and you continued to the next noble, forced sweetness coated in every word of your offering for seconds.
To the untrained eyes, it would appear that nothing happened. But, it’s very difficult to trick the eyes of someone like Master Iroh.
He had seen it all, understanding the unfortunate situation you were forced to experience. But, he held his tongue. He had no intention to ruin his grandson’s meeting, in which he was leading quite marvelously. There was an immense pride to see how much he has grown. However, Master Iroh is not one to tolerate abuse of power, considering the sort of monster his brother was during his reign.
Clean-up was quickly enacted, as you and the ladies quickly assisted in bringing the dirty plates and used utensils to the kitchen. The table in the throne room was wiped down while the floors were swept, then mopped. Your tea kettle and kit were being put away, and garbage was being collected for easy tossing.
You were numb. You divided yourself from your body, knowing your mind would keep you still otherwise. It was an out of body experience almost, watching yourself dutifully work while your mind was forced out, knowing it would let your physical form down. Nobody deserved to experience what you did. But simultaneously, you were glad it was you, and not your fellow ladies.
It’s not to say that you were less vulnerable or “stronger” than your peers. It was exactly that, with your position working so closely to the Firelord, you could not afford to break down. He needs you, and you will be damned to ever let him down.
But, it hurts.
To be abused in such a way. It hurts. For your body to be tampered and tainted, by a touch unasked for. Unwarranted. It hurts. Despite your uncertainty of marriage, you could not enter such a tie in purity. It all just hurts.
Then, a hand patted your shoulder. You immediately shuttered, briskly turning to meet eyes with Madam Minji, “you may go attend to Lord Zuko now. We can finish the rest of the clean up.” You nod, giving her a bow before sauntering between the noblemen that remained. They stood in clique-like groups, catching up with one another while discussing topics of the meeting.
You quickly find Lord Indra, and do your best to avoid him in your stride. Even your ears blocked out sound, disregarding whatever potential voices were calling to you as you made your way up to the throne. Going up to Lord Zuko, you felt somewhat liberated from meeting his gaze. His smile was contagious, and you were suddenly smiling back.
“Lady Sai,” Lord Zuko hummed, containing his excitement over the meeting going well, and getting to interact with you once more.
You bow, “Firelord Zuko.” You both stand there for a moment, finding solace in one another's presence. But you forgot you had a job to do and quickly cleaned up his dishes, as well as Master Iroh’s. This allowed the opportunity for Master Iroh to speak to you.
“Sai, the tea was phenomenal,” Master Iroh praised you.
You bow quickly, plates and utensils in hand, your face shying away from sight. “I’m so glad you enjoyed it. I knew it would be a pleasant surprise for you both.” Master Iroh takes note of your flush face, smiling at such sincerity.
“Zuko, go on and mingle,” Master Iroh ushers, his chin gesturing at the noblemen. There was a buzz in their conversations, the chit chats becoming louder with laughter sprinkled in every now and then. “It’s a good opportunity to get to know the other lords, and see how their clans are faring.”
His eyes screamed reluctance. Lord Zuko, despite his title, was still quite shy and unsure of himself. And, truth be told, he was looking forward to being normal again and discussing the meeting and unimportant matters with you. But, his uncle was right, and his wisdom is the reason why he has gotten this far.
Clearing his throat, he nods, “pardon me, then.” With lingering eyes latched to yours, Lord Zuko quickly meanders away, and finds his first group to talk with. Another Lady in Waiting rushes up to the throne to collect the dirty dishes from you, having you mouth a ‘thank you’ to her as she gives you a happy smile. You both watch as she zooms away, joining the other ladies in their new path towards the kitchen.
Then, the opportunity became open for Master Iroh.
“y/n, I need to speak to you about something,” the old man began quietly. His smile diminished, and you were met with a very serious aura, which was new in comparison to all the interactions you’ve had with this man. “And I’d like you to be able to confide in me. Your words are safest with me.”
You look at him curiously and nod, “what is it, Master Iroh?”
“When you were distributing another round of food to the noblemen,” Master Iroh begins, making your stomach already sink. He noticed, you thought anxiously. “I saw you react to something.”
You immediately shook your head, “it was just my muscles, Master Iroh. I think it might have pulled a little as I was serving.” You already regretted the quick lie you concocted.
“Right, right,” Master Iroh hums, believing not a single word. “Lying would be easier with anyone else, but I am not someone who can be lied to so easily. Especially when I smell the burning of clothing from you.”
You were caught. You bow sheepishly, “I apologize, Master Iroh. I… did not intend to lie to you.” You bring your hands together, anxiously rubbing your thumb against one of your palms. Dirt and skin follicles begin to accumulate at the motion, your palm going hot in the process. “I do not want to cause trouble.”
Master Iroh pats your shoulder, giving you a relieving smile. “You trouble no one ever, y/n. But you must understand that Lord Indra’s actions are unacceptable.”
You quickly freeze, your body swarming with goosebumps. It wasn’t that you weren’t capable of confrontation; you just have no power here. You are an attendant, not a lord’s lady, nor honorably titled. What rights or safety did you possess to start trouble with a lord from a long, highly respected clan? “Please, I am not harmed in any way. I do not want to bring trouble to you or Firelord Zuko.”
Master Iroh takes a seat, offering for you to sit on the floor beside him. You reluctantly follow suit, crossing your legs on the ground with your back straightened, and your mind alert. “You must understand, it is not just about finding you justice,” Master Iroh explains quietly. “Firelord Zuko intends to change the ways of the Fire Nation completely. That includes such violent and crude acts.”
“But he is a Lord,” you emphasize, “to ruin this evening by addressing this matter would be in bad taste, and I would forever feel regretful.”
Master Iroh quickly offers his hand, “do not worry. We will resolve this matter subtly.”
You place your hand in his, but in pure reticence and anxiety. You did not want to bring about trouble, but trouble came to you first. Master Iroh felt your nerves drive your body, your hand shaky and cold in his hand. He puts his other hand on it, stilling it in the process. You suppose you must do as he says.
There was nothing worse in the world than seeing Lord Zuko’s face at that moment.
Master Iroh asked for Lord Indra to hang back, his smile still wide, his eyes filled with anticipation. It was as if he was being held back for something important; perhaps delusioning himself into receiving good news. It disgusted you.
You stood by the door, wishing all the men goodnight as the poured out of the room. All the Ladies in Waiting bowed at their exit, and began leaving themselves. They wished you a good night, and you all wiggled at each other's fingers, silently appreciating one another for todays job well done.
Chamberlain Minji was last to leave. Master Iroh had informed her that you were to hang back for a ‘final important task.’ You watched her bow before making her way to you. Her eyes seemed skeptical, as if you were plotting something. “Make sure you do as Firelord Zuko requests. Do not go to bed until he is satisfied.”
What a sentence, “of course, Madam Minji. Have a goodnight,” you hummed. She wishes you a goodnight, her cold tone unrelenting. Before she left, she stood by the doorway and looked back at you all. She cut her eyes at you before truly leaving.
Strike two. Just adding more fuel to a fire you wanted to extinguish.
Now having privacy, you stay close by the door, keeping your distance from Lord Indra, who was well far and at the bottom of the steps. Lord Zuko took a seat on his throne, completely confused by the situation. All he knew was that his uncle requested he hang back. And his uncle has never led him astray; not back then, not now, and he trusted never in the future. He curiously stares down at Lord Indra as well, wondering if anything happened.
Master Iroh meets your eyes, and gestures you over. So much for keeping distance, you thought to yourself. You slowly make your way forward, with Lord Indra now staring you down. His eyes felt just as burning as what he did. And you wished nothing more than to run out of there and take a neverending bath to attempt to remove the feeling.
“Lord Indra, I don’t think I have to mention what you did this evening,” Master Iroh starts hot, his face discontent. For a fire bender who has shown immense power and control over the many years never looked so strong than in this moment, despite how the years have aged him. “And I do not believe I need to push this matter further than it has to be. Please, apologize to Lady Sai.”
Lord Zuko’s eyes widened, those amber orbs studying you in a different nature. He scanned you, seeing that though you appeared unharmed, your face was not quite normal. There was a sort of lack of shine, a dullness in your expression. Your earlier happiness seemed to have been stinted by the sort of nerves not as simple as performance anxiety.
“Apologize? For what exactly?” Lord Indra said simply, feigning innocence.
Master Iroh did not look pleased. “Lord Indra, you know that I am a patient and willing man,” Master Iroh’s voice was hush, but approaching a tone a bit more sinister than what you were used to with him. “And I’d like to give you another chance to do as I requested. Should you tread incorrectly again, I am not sure what your future will hold.”
Lord Zuko narrows down on Lord Indra, those amber eyes going dark. “Lord Indra,” Lord Zuko addressed him, his tone low, but steady. All his happiness from the successful meeting was quickly drained from his tongue, and replaced with the very tone you did not want to hear. “What did you do?”
His tongue was replaced by a snake, a venomous hiss taking over his words. The rumors had always gone around, but after meeting and getting to know Lord Zuko personally, you never believed them. When he was a prince, he was an angry child, constantly yelling and never satisfied until he recovered his honor. He was angry because he was weak, or so people said. Others said his scar was a testament to such dishonor, supplementing enough reason to be the mad child he was.
Lord Indra, initially, kept his cool. He put his arms out, in such a way where he believed it was friendly. “Firelord Zuko, I believe age is catching up a bit with your uncle. I accidentally touched Lady Sai here as she served food; no harm no foul. Master Iroh might have had too much tea.” He proceeds with a laugh, but Lord Zuko was nowhere near humored.
“Uncle,” Lord Zuko begins, his eyes still very much fixed on Lord Indra. It was as if he was waiting for him to move, to give him a reason. He did not need to ask, for Master Iroh already knew what he wanted. He moves closer to his nephew, halting for a moment before giving Lord Indra one last chance. He lends him a gaze, waiting for him to make a decision.
But, Lord Indra stands firm, meeting Master Iroh’s eyes with silence.
Master Iroh goes to Lord Zuko’s ear, forcing him to move his hair, the hair you had carefully done for him. As he explains the situation in his ear, the color in Lord Zuko’s face vanishes. The warmth, the joy, the accomplished aura had been replaced with something a bit… dimming.
It was hard to pin point, as you have no reference. You had never seen Lord Zuko in anything outside of his gentle nature or stern turn when he attended to his obligations as a leader. But, when Master Iroh pulls away from him, you see it clearly. Those beautiful amber eyes were desolate, his lips firmly pressed together.
It looks like something– a seal, something that held him– had broken.
“...Kai,” Lord Zuko began hush, his words practically untraceable. Not even you could catch it.
Lord Indra was bold to ask, “could you repeat yourself, Firelord Zuko?”
“Was I not clear enough for you?” A voice, almost unhumanly, calmly left Lord Zuko’s lips. You watched as he sat still on his throne. One of his hands, just hovering in front of his torso, had a low flame sitting there. As the silence ensued, the flame only grew bigger. Surrounding it were small slivers of light that your eyes could not make out. But from the sound of the whirring and crackling in his flame, you soon realized that it was miniature bursts of lightning.
Quite a sight for someone known to only redirect lightning, not control it.
“I said,” Lord Zuko begins, his voice fuller, his tone challenging. “Agni Kai.”
you rolled your eyes hard. "i know how to handle a blade, jay, relax."
"jus' making sure," jason smirked.
it was a friday night and neither of you had plans. so when you noticed the stubble shadowing your boyfriends jaw, naturally you took it as your opportunity to kill some time. your offer led to him skeptically handing you his razor and letting you perch on his lap as he sat on a stool in the bathroom. he gazed up at you with amusement and exasperation both as you gently dragged the blades edge across his cheek, scraping the shaving foam off.
large hands travelled slowly up your thighs and settled on your hips. you bit your lip in concentration, barely noticing jasons thumbs caressing your sides. slow strokes of the razor down his jaw left behind clear skin. you pressed your hips to his as you moved closer. a low grunt left his lips.
"don't tempt me while you have a blade to my neck."
you suppressed the urge to grin. "one track mind, huh?" you teased, shifting more deliberately just to tease him, earning a half-hearted glare.
"brat."
"hush, let me concentrate."
minutes passed in comfortable silence, save for the buzz of led lights and the occasional scratch as you continued to shave. at some point, jason's eyes began to close. his head rested against the bathroom wall, exposing his neck for you. a small smile pulled his lips, completely content with you in his arms.
getting the last bits of hair off, you grabbed a pair of wipes and cleaned his face with a bit of aftershave. jason peeked through a half lidded eye as you inspected your work. satisfied, you pressed a kiss to his jaw and moved to get off his lap. "all done."
"hold on," jason dragged you back easily to straddle him again. "i haven't paid you for your service yet."
you raised an eyebrow playfully, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. "yeah?"
"yeah," he murmured, his stare dropping to your mouth. "you did such a good job, baby, i gotta show you my appreciation."
"i'm also gonna need a tip, you know," you brushed your lips against his, just close enough but still too far. he narrowed his eyes and fully kissed you, firm. you hummed, pleased, clutching him tighter.
"oh, i'll give you more than just the tip," he replied in between, half serious, pulling your waist to him. you laughed out loud.
"you're so corny," you giggled. a yelp stumbled out of you as he abruptly stood up with you still clinging to him. his hands gripped your thighs as he walked to the bedroom while you continued to laugh. the sound made his gaze soften. he let out an amused huff despite himself and simply held on to you closer.
✧.* a/n: if i had a nickel for everytime i ended a fic with reader being carried/picked up, id have more than one nickel. also idk how to end this :p fade to black ig ✧.*
.✦ ݁˖ pregnant!fem!reader, established relationship, other than that just fluff;
zuko had picked you up a thousand times before.
over his shoulder. in his arms. into his lap during slow, lazy afternoons when you were both half-asleep, mumbling nonsense, but still refusing to let go of each other's warmth.
but this time was different.
this time, you were carrying his child.
your child.
"zuko, seriously," you laughed as he still held onto you anyway, stubborn as ever. "i can walk."
"i know you can walk," he muttered, his large hands adjusting carefully around your waist and back, brushing against your robes as if he was recalculating every possible way to hold you safely. "i just—"
he lifted you anyway.
—and immediately let out a strained little grunt.
then the room went completely silent.
the birds outside stopped chirping.
the wind didn't seem to blow anymore.
you blinked slowly.
zuko blinked right back.
for a moment, neither of you said anything.
then his expression dropped.
it was subtle at first — just a flicker of realization — but it quickly turned into full-blown horror, like he had just witnessed the collapse of his entire legacy before his eyes.
"...did you just grunt?" you ask finally, breaking the silence. your tone is calm, but your face gives nothing away.
"no...?" he replies immediately, too fast.
"you absolutely did," you say at once, not letting him escape it.
"i didn't," he snaps, a little sharper now, shifting his grip slightly like he's trying to prove a point. "i adjusted my stance."
you keep staring at him.
he refuses to meet your eyes.
your hands slowly rise, gently cradling his face so he has no choice but to look at you. his jaw is tense, his ears faintly red, his entire composure hanging by a thread.
despite his obvious distress, you smile softly.
"are you calling me heavy?"
his shoulders drop a little.
he exhales, trying to recover.
okay. maybe he was overreacting.
it was just a grunt, you smiled. maybe it wasn't that big of a deal. maybe you had nothing to be upset about.
yeah.
"no, love," he says, forcing a small smile.
then your fingers press into his cheeks, squishing them together as you study him very seriously.
"then put me down and pick me up again," you say, tone flat, deadpan. "without the grunt."
his eyes widen slightly.
he fakes a cough, trying to hide the sound of his fast heartbeating, as if you can hear it.
"yes, love," he answers, voice already wavering as he quickly clears his throat like that might fix everything.
Jason Todd Is Life @jason-todd-rh - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
