A/N: i had a random moment of inspo ?? so this is based on my unpublished story >:)
You called him 'dove.' Even in the beginning.
But at some point, 'dove' had lost its razor's edge and melted into something gentler. Something accompanied by a meaningful sideways look, a soft hum, a buried smile.
Sometimes it came with more: a graceful, sweeping touch, the world warmed by the thrum of your soul, and the echoed words of someone who cared. For him.
You cared for him. More than you should—more than was acceptable.
He couldn't believe less than that, even when your teeth sharpened to vicious points. Even when you laid a palm against his cheek, eyes piercing his, your words a command that eviscerated his free will.
You might call him 'dove,' but Jason knew you'd clip your own wings before the razor was ever set to his.
