I’ve Been Writing For 3 Years Now, And Even If You Just Started I Just Wanted To Say You’re Doing

I’ve been writing for 3 years now, and even if you just started I just wanted to say you’re doing amazing!! Keep going (::

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Take My Hand | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Part Two to I Stayed There

Inspired by “Right Where You Left Me” by Taylor Swift

Summary: In which almost a decade later unlikely paths cross again, with little time to make big decisions. What once was broken can be mended, and the past can be forgiven. Frozen hearts can be reignited and destined souls can become one again. But only if given the chance.

Cross posted on Wattpad and AO3 and here is my masterlist!

wc: 10.3k

warnings: a lot of angst, pining, men begging on their knees, emotional turmoil

a/n: howdy folks, back at it again with part two. I want to thank everyone for the overwhelming support on part one, and I really hope part two lives up to your expectations. It got a little lengthy, but I hope you all enjoy it. And as always, thank you so very much for taking the time to read my stories, I appreciate each and every one of you.

"I knew if I told you that there was someone else that you wouldn't push the issue. I knew you loved me too much to interfere with my happiness. I used your own love against you and I am so sorry." He sniffles and pushes tears from his eyes.

His words feel like someone has punched you square in the stomach. Spencer had never found anyone else, he just wanted to protect you. He loved you too much to let you be harmed. Realizing his actions were done out of pure love, and not betrayal, a sob bubbles up from your chest.

Years upon years you had spent every night in envy of the other woman who was receiving Spencer's love. Months had been dedicated to wondering what you could've done differently to keep him from leaving. Countless weeks spent in agonizing misery, mourning and yearning for the love of your life.

Eight years, eleven months, and twenty-eight days. That's how much time has passed since Spencer had walked out, and every day that passes and another day is added to the count, his heart grows heavier.

Sure, he's able to get up in the mornings and do his job thoroughly, but the joy life once had has faded. He's become jaded, and everyone has noticed. They've all just accepted that it's who he is now. He no longer tries to go out of his way to inquire about his teammates and their lives, he stopped practicing his magic tricks when there was downtime. Instead, he keeps to himself for the most part. The only time the team really hears from him is when there's an active case.

The first year or so the team had given him some grace, they understood how badly the break up had affected him; they assumed he'd bounce back eventually, but more and more time passed with no indication of returning to his former self.

And after a while they stopped trying to set him up with dates, they quit teasing him about being disinterested in getting back out there. Spencer had never told them exactly what happened, but after they stopped, he suspected Derek filled in the blanks for them.

Truthfully, the rest of the team had taken pity on him; they understood all too well why he had initiated the breakup. But even with their knowledge and insight, they are still saddened by what Spencer has become, and they wish every day that his old personality will resurface. But until that day comes, if it ever does, they will remain supportive from a distance with which he is comfortable with.

"You ready for the next case?" Derek asks Spencer as he stirs the sugar into his coffee. Spencer stares at the rising steam before answering.

"Yeah, I'm ready." He replies and grabs the cup, following Derek to the briefing room where JJ and the rest are awaiting them.

Spencer takes his usual spot and listens to JJ explain the case. It's a local case, a wife gone missing in the middle of the day yesterday. From the photos, it looks like it could've been a burglary gone bad. Spencer zones out a little while JJ is explaining, instead focusing on his coffee, which he wishes he would've put more sugar into. After JJ has completed the brief, the team heads out to start working, and like usual, Spencer is tasked with the geographical profile.

Derek works alongside him under the order of Hotch while the rest go explore leads. The two of them work silently and efficiently, singling out places of interest to investigate and narrowing down a perimeter for officers to search.

"What do you think about it?" Derek breaks the silence, earning a sigh from Spencer. He steps away from the board and crosses his arms, studying what they have so far.

"I think it's weird that nothing of value was really missing, just the wife. You'd think if it were a burglary gone bad the unsub would've taken something else." Spencer's eyes dance across the crime scene photos, mind working a hundred miles a minute to make sense of this.

"Well maybe it wasn't a burglary." Derek says, eyes trained on a photo of the husband who reported his wife missing.

"Maybe not." Spencer agrees, and the two of them delve back into the work.

-----

You stir your tea around in your cup, settling on the couch for some morning television before you start your day. There's a laundry list of things you need to get done, only you lack the necessary motivation to get started on it all. Your hand finds the remote and turns the volume up, the woman on the screen piquing your interest and distracting you from your responsibilities.

"Mrs. Greene was reported missing late last night by her husband. At this time, her whereabouts are still unknown, and the authorities urge you to contact them if you have any information." The news reporter speaks with clarity and urgency. A photo of the missing woman pops onto the screen, but you don't recognize her. You hope they find her alive, but you know cases like this usually don't end well.

Thinking about what might have happened to the woman, your mind drifts to Spencer, and you wonder how he would approach the case. Would he immediately suspect the husband? Or would he hold off on judgment until he got the facts straight? Running your hand over his blanket, you wish he was here to talk about it.

Though it's been almost nine years at this point, there isn't a day that goes by that you don't think of him. You hope he's doing well, you hope he's found happiness. And at this point, you even think he might have a family of his own. But you try not to dwell on that thought too long, for it still makes you sick to your stomach to imagine him having a family with anyone other than you.

Of course, you could always ask Derek, but you think that a part of you would prefer not to know. Because if you don't know for sure, then there's always a chance that you're wrong. In order to stay functional you need the plausible deniability. While you want him to be happy, and you want him to live his life to the fullest, his absence is still very prominent and noticeable to you.

After you finish your tea, you place your cup on the white tablecloth adorning the dining room table, red stain having faded to pink from time and wear. And while the stain may fade, you know for a fact your memory about that morning will always be in your mind. And if the stain wasn't enough of a reminder, the scars on the bottoms of your feet are. It still hurts to step a certain way after all this time, the glass had embedded itself deeply into your skin, causing lasting damage.

Once you get ready for the day, you embark on the errands you have to run. A small part inside of you is excited about this new journey; it'll be like a fresh start and you think that's exactly what you need. You don't really want to move away, you love this city, but it houses memories that will forever hold you prisoner if you let them; and you've let them for the past nine years. The other part of you, the part that still clings to Spencer, is suffering and it makes this decision ten times harder. The guilt slowly, but surely, eats away at you with each step you take down the street but you try to convince yourself that this is the right move to be making.

Ignoring your emotional turmoil, you walk into the leasing agent's building and find her office easily, having already been here once last week to start the process of relisting the apartment. She welcomes you in and explains the paperwork as you sit across from her. The agent tells you where to sign and when you will need to be out of the apartment once you've submitted the paperwork. She said that since Spencer had taken his name off the lease years ago, that this process is a hundred times easier since there's no permission needed from him anymore. It's a bittersweet statement you realize.

You take the papers from the agent's office and tell her that you'll be back soon with everything signed. She had wanted you to fill everything out right there, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it. After all, this apartment holds so much sentimental value and the thought of it being someone else's makes your heart ache. You'll have to build yourself up to sign them, once you've fully convinced yourself that this is the right thing to do. And you know that once you sign those papers, the tiny part of Spencer you still have, will be yours no longer.

After the leasing agent's office, you take a trip to a moving company to get a quote on how much it would cost to move your things from Virginia to Colorado. The price they gave you was a little steeper than you had hoped for, but you thank them nonetheless and try to figure out how to foot that bill while also finding a new place to live. There are a few places in your sights, but you had yet to decide on one.

You return to your apartment after you had completed the last few errands on your list, dropping the stack of papers onto the dining table and unloading the groceries you had picked up on your way back home. The sun had started to set and so you turned on a few lamps and lit a candle, wanting to try to soothe your anxieties after today and have a relaxing evening.

A glass of wine finds its way into your hand after dinner, you kick your feet up on the coffee table and sip while staring at the screen in front of you. They're running another story on the missing woman, but it seems they have more details. Intrigued, you turn the volume up.

"Authorities are now saying that the scene looks like it could have been a robbery gone bad. Informants on the scene noted that there were signs of a struggle inside the residence. If you noticed any suspicious activity, contact the sheriff's office immediately." The reporter switches to a different story, and you change the channel, wanting to know more about the missing woman. And you know there's always one channel that seems to be ahead of the news.

The reporter is a fiery blonde-haired lady who makes her opinions well-known to the public. And you know her persona is probably partially to generate views and interest value, but you can't deny that she's able to get insider information quicker than the traditional news channels. Sure enough, the woman's face is on the center of the screen, and she's going on about Mrs. Greene's disappearance in a very animated manner.

"You're telling me that a husband reports his wife missing hours after he was aware of her absence? He knew that she was gone since at least the afternoon, and he didn't report it to police until almost the next day? Not only that, but there's been a disturbance in the house! From the photos I've seen so far, the ottoman in the living room was knocked over, the coffee table was shattered, and the dining room chairs were all sorts of disheveled. And to top it all off, I've got someone on the scene there, and they just told us that police are reporting a positive luminol test. There was blood on the scene that's been cleaned up. Now I'm no expert, but I think that certainly casts suspicion on Mr. Greene." Her voice drones on and on about her theory that Mr. Greene was most definitely involved in the disappearance of his wife, but something about the details is oddly familiar, you just can't quite put your finger on it.

You go to bed that night trying to recall why those details sound so familiar. Tossing and turning, you struggle to pinpoint where you've heard something like that before and it's beginning to drive you insane. The plots of movies and shows run through your mind, trying to piece things together, but to no avail. You eventually drift off to sleep, and for the first night in nine years, your dreams are full of something other than Spencer; your mind finally has something compelling enough to mull over to distract you from the cold, empty spot beside you.

The morning comes and your hand ghosts over the spot next to you, like it does every morning. You had hoped that by now your unconscious would understand that he's not here to hold close in the morning anymore, but you wake up the same way every day; full of sorrow and longing. With a sigh, you push yourself out of bed, the air feeling crisp against your skin. What you wouldn't give for five minutes of Spencer's warmth.

Your morning routine comes and goes, and you find yourself staring at a stack of cardboard boxes, waiting to be filled. Hands on your hips, you look around at everything that needs to be packed. Things are either coming with you, or they're being returned to their rightful owner. You still had no idea how you're going to get everything back to Spencer, but you figure you'll work it out when the time comes. For now, you'll start boxing things up.

With a box beside you, your heart constricts as you reach for a stack of Spencer's books to be put away indefinitely. The empty shelf is reflective of the emptiness in your soul, and you're not sure if it'll ever fill back in. Truthfully, you don't know what could possibly mend the brokenness as your heart only has one desire.

You pack up two bookcases before you're unable to handle it anymore. With each empty shelf the reality sets in more and more; he's not coming back here. Your Spencer isn't going to knock on the door and come back to you. You turn your head to look at the door, not sure what you're expecting, but your eyes land on his coat that still hangs from the rack. It lost its signature Spencer scent about three years ago, but you don't have it in you to take it down, not yet at least.

You're keenly aware that eventually you'll have to pack up the stained tablecloth, Spencer's clothes that remain in the dressers, his favorite blanket, and give them away forever, never to be seen or touched by you again. Then all you'll have left of him are the memories, and after all this time some of them have already faded entirely. You're no longer able to remember many of the small moments shared together, you can't recall how his lips felt against your forehead as he bid you goodbye in the mornings before work. You fear that in another nine years you won't remember anything except his name and the moment he walked out of the door.

You fold the top of the box down and slide it across the room to join the others. When you return to the shelf to assess what size box you need next, your eyes land on a very specific book. It's one you had recommended to Spencer. You told him it was a compelling story and though it's not a literary classic, he should give it a try and broaden his horizons. Of course, it took you a week to finish it and it took him a casual afternoon.

The details of the book flood your mind and you realize why the disappearance of Mrs. Greene seemed so familiar. Your hands open the book and flip through the pages, finding exactly what you were looking for. In a frenzy, your eyes scan over the words and they grow wide with realization. Either this is one of the biggest delusions you've convinced yourself of, or you might just be onto something.

You reread the words over and over again, wrestling with yourself about whether this is worthy of submitting a tip. From the perspective of an investigator, it may seem absolutely ridiculous. I mean after all, you're using a piece of fiction to explain a real-life situation. But a small voice in the back of your head reminds you of something Spencer had said several times,

"Sometimes what seems like an insignificant detail ends up cracking the case."

Youwrestle with what to do, placing the book on the coffee table and pacing around, the television providing low background noise as your mind goes through different reasonings. You stop pacing around once you see a familiar blonde-haired woman on the screen, her FBI credentials hanging from her blazer pocket.

Sitting on the edge of the couch, you turn the volume up and listen to her intently. She announces that the BAU is actively working the case and that they hope to find Mrs. Greene soon. She also implores the public for any information. Your phone on the dining room table seems to call your name, and before you can think through what you're doing, the phone is ringing.

"What's up sweet thing?" Derek's voice greets you through the phone. You trust that even if your speculation is wildly ridiculous that he won't make fun of you. You explain to him your theory but he cuts you off in the middle of your sentence.

"Come by the office in the morning and explain it to the team. It might just be something." He asks, and you sigh.

"Derek I don't-" You begin making your excuse of why you can't go to their office, but he cuts you off for a second time.

"He won't be there, just come on by." Before you can get another word in, he hangs the phone up. It seems you have no choice, really.

Anxiety blooms within you, you haven't been to the BAU office in a decade. And the last time you were there was under much better and happier circumstances. But if Derek promised Spencer wouldn't be there, you figure it's worth going if your theory can help find Mrs. Greene. You just hope that the others don't bring him up in any capacity; you don't think you could handle hearing how happy he is with her while you suffer every single day without him.

-----

Nine years. It's been nine years today since Spencer left you. He stares up at the ceiling when his eyes open in the morning, heavy with sleep. There's an uncomfortable emptiness within him, fueled by his thoughts of what today signifies. He's sure the only thing he'll be able to do is replay that fateful night over and over again in his mind today, he's not sure how he's going to stay focused on the case.

Eventually, he gets himself out of bed and begins his morning routine. He buttons his shirt, puts a tie on, and shrugs a sweater overtop. Spencer stares at himself in the mirror, his reflection showing him the grim reality that is the dark circles under his eyes and his unkempt hair. His eyes trail down to see that his tie is crooked, and his fingers fix it; but he can never fix it like you used to.

Breakfasts don't seem to be as tasty as the ones you made, heading off to work without a goodbye kiss gives him no ambition for the day, and there's nothing to look forward to after he's off the clock for you aren't eagerly awaiting his return with a smile on your face. In the nine years that have passed, the vibrant world has devolved into grayscale.

The clock on the wall tells him he still has two hours before he's supposed to be in. Derek told him to take a few hours this morning, he knows how hard today was bound to be for Spencer, and he was right. But Spencer is restless, he knows if he stays in this apartment for another hour and a half that he's going to let his mind take him to sorrowful places; and that's sure to affect the team dynamic.

After three years, Derek had confronted Spencer. He said that while he understands the pain, that Spencer can't let it affect his job performance. And that if he did, there's a chance he'd have to be let go. So after that day, Spencer made an effort to keep up his appearances and performance. He couldn't bear to lose you and the job. If he lost the job then it means he left you for nothing. It had to be for something, for something good and meaningful.

Spencer ties his shoelaces and finds his messenger bag, slinging it over his shoulder. The team isn't expecting him for a while, but he's got nothing better to do and he doesn't want to be left alone with his thoughts any longer than he has to. And surely the team won't mind him coming in sooner than scheduled, besides there's just something about this case that seems so oddly familiar to him.

-----

The elevator door dings and you find yourself in front of familiar doors, the FBI logo cleanly shining on the glass doors into the BAU's office space. Readjusting the bag on your shoulder, you go to open the doors to find lots of agents buzzing about, carrying folders and talking to others. You're really just looking for one agent in particular, but you can't seem to find him. Feeling anxious about being here, you contemplate just turning around and going back home. As you go to make your quick escape, you hear Derek's voice behind you.

"There she is!" He says and you swear you can hear the smile on his face. His arm wraps around your shoulders, bringing you in for a brief hug. So much for your escape plan. You plaster the best smile that you can manage on your face and return his hug, his embrace is familiar and warm.

"Here I am." You say, nerves twisting your stomach around. Derek leads you through the craziness of the bullpen into a smaller room, where people are already waiting. You recognize the blonde from the TV, and you remember Garcia and Hotch, but you don't know who the dark haired lady is, nor the older man. But you're thankful that there's one missing agent from the table. Feeling like you're under heavy scrutiny, you give everyone a polite smile and wait for Derek to take the lead like you know he will.

After a few moments of silence, Derek claps his hands together to gain everyone's attention and then introduces you to the team. Once again, you give your politest smile and listen to Derek explain why you're here. The team all looks to you with interest, and you pull the book from the bag on your shoulder.

"So, I know this may sound silly, but I couldn't help but notice all the similarities, just from what I've gathered from the news. If you look where I put the bookmarks, you'll see what I mean." You tell them in rushed words, anxious to see their reactions, expecting ridicule.

"Gone Girl, huh?" The older man Derek introduced as Rossi questions, leaning in closer to the book to read the marked pages. You nod, chewing on your bottom lip as their eyes scan the pages.

"It is oddly similar. The picture frames on the mantle, the ottoman, the blood in the kitchen. I wonder if there are more similarities that we just haven't noticed." The dark-haired woman, Emily, speaks up first. Her words of interest makes it feel like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders, they're not going to ridicule you after all. In fact, it seems like they may be entertaining the idea.

While you're engrossed in the team's blooming discussion about what this might mean, you hadn't heard the door to the room open, and you hadn't noticed who stepped through that door. No, your attention is solely on the lively debate about what the team's next step should be. Emily thinks that this might be a path worth pursuing, but Rossi urges her to keep an open mind. It's not until the discussion has died down, and the team all thanks you for coming in, do you turn to leave. Immediately your eyes land on his tall frame, standing right in the doorway.

Spencer is standing right in front of you.

It feels like the air has been kicked out of your lungs, your limbs feel like they've turned to jelly. The blood in your veins turns to ice and you're frozen to the floor. Ringing sounds off in your ears, unable to hear anything around you. The only thing you can focus on is his honeyed eyes staring right back into yours. It's like the rest of the world has dissolved, and he is the only thing that remains.

In his eyes you can see your Spencer, you remember so clearly the first time his eyes met yours, and how you were enamored from the very beginning. The first time you laid eyes on him you felt your heart race and you just knew you had to go up to him and say something, or else you'd regret it. You remember how soft spoken and polite he was, and how he stumbled over his words when he asked you on your first date. His hazel eyes dazzled under the warm lights that night and you knew you were hooked. His eyes hold so many precious memories, and they all flash right after another in your mind, even the memories that had faded with time come back.

Derek's hand on your elbow knocks you out of your trance and you realize then that the whole team is staring at the two of you, but you don't care. You come back to your senses and look over Spencer, taking note of how his hair is longer, curlier, and how his tie is still crooked. He's even grown out his facial hair a little. He looks so much like the Spencer you knew but nothing alike at the same time. This Spencer looks tired, worn down, and just plainly miserable. It deeply pains you to see him in such a condition.

He licks his lips and opens his mouth to say something, but he stays silent. You see his hands clench beside him and your face flushes with heat, your eyes begin to sting, and you feel like it's becoming harder to breathe.

"Come on, I'll walk you out." Derek says into your ear and he gently tugs you towards the door, where your eyes stay locked onto Spencer as you follow Derek. Spencer takes a step to the side to let you and Derek out of the room, and your arm just barely brushes against his, sending a tingling feeling throughout your body. You feel a tear drip down your cheek, and you swear you can see tears in his eyes too.

Derek gets you down to the parking lot where your car awaits you and he opens the door for you and helps you in. He can tell that you're going through something. You haven't said a word, you have a far away look in your eye, and you're crying without bothering to wipe away the tears. It's almost like you're in shock, and in a way, you are.

"He wasn't supposed to be here for another hour, I'm sorry. If I had known I would've just come over or something." Derek apologizes, but you shake your head, slowly coming back to reality.

"It's not your fault, Derek. Maybe this was the universe's way of letting me say goodbye, get some closure." You speak, voice hoarse. Derek's eyebrows furrow together,

"What do you mean?" He asks, not understanding what your words imply. He'll never admit it to you, but he's concerned about how you're going to handle this run-in. From experience, he knows that you're likely to spiral after this, and that's the last thing he wants for you. After all the progress you've made lately and your personality finally beginning to come back, he fears this may cause a relapse of sorts.

"I'm moving to Colorado." You tell him for the first time. His mouth falls agape in surprise.

-----

After Derek comes back into the office from seeing you out, he can tell that the atmosphere has changed in the room. Glances are being thrown Spencer's way, and Spencer looks more pale than usual, like he had just seen a ghost. He's lost in his own mind, oblivious to the looks everyone is giving him.

"Let's head to the scene one more time to see if this theory holds up. Morgan, Reid, you can meet us there." Hotch announces and stands from the table, the rest of the team following closely behind. Once everyone has dispersed, Derek sits across from Spencer.

"You okay?" He asks, not knowing where Spencer is at mentally. His watery eyes glance from the tabletop to Derek, and he swallows hard.

"Today is the nine year anniversary of when I left." He says, and Derek's heart breaks for the two of you. Sure, it would've been hard on any given day for the two of you to see each other, but on a day with so much significance? It has to be gut wrenching. And to put the cherry on top, Derek knows the news he has to break to Spencer.

"Listen man. She told me something before she left and I think you should know." Derek's hand finds its way to Spencer's shoulder.

"What is it?" Spencer's mind is running through dozens of scenarios, trying to predict what you possibly could've said. Derek lips his lips and sighs,

"She told me she's moving to Colorado." Spencer feels as if the entire world has stopped spinning.

"What? When?" His voice is breathy and desperate. He has to know where you're going, when you're going, and why. He can't stand the thought of you being out there alone without being able to make sure you're okay. Derek's hand squeezes Spencer's shoulder, trying to comfort him.

"She said within the next few weeks, but she's got some loose ends to tie up here first." Spencer nods, understanding he still has some time to figure out how to approach this situation. He can't see anything clearly right now, for his mind is self-destructing from the thought of losing you for good.

"Maybe I can find a way to delay her trip somehow, or find out where she's going and set up some sort of periodic welfare check. Or maybe I set up a fake social media profile to follow her and make sure she's still okay." Spencer begins rattling off different ways he can make sure that you'll be okay if he can't be there. And he's well aware that his suggestions sound like borderline stalking, but he doesn't care, his love for you knows no boundaries and he would go to the ends of the Earth to make sure you're okay.

He needs to know that you are okay, no matter how many miles are put between the two of you. If he can't know that you're okay then he doesn't know what he's going to do; he even considers relocating to a field office out in Colorado just in case you need help.

"I've watched the two of you destroy yourselves over the past nine years. Neither of you have actually been able to recover, and you know it. She still thinks that you're with another woman. You're still in love with her, and now it's time to make your decision on whether you can let her go or not." Derek's voice speaks reason into Spencer's racing mind and he realizes that Derek is right. He's got a decision to make, and he has to make it soon.

-----

Rain patters against the window, providing some white noise for you while you tape the top of a box down. At this point, you've managed to pack up all of Spencer's books and every bookcase now sits barren. You swear the absence of his books causes the apartment to drop a few degrees, it feels empty and lifeless. You told the leasing agent that you would be by in the morning to drop off the paperwork, finally gaining the courage to sign them last night.

It had taken you about ten days after seeing Spencer before you could push yourself to sign them. A tiny part of you was still clinging to hope that he would come by. But he didn't. And he's not going to, you have to remind yourself. Constantly you have to remind yourself that you were able to see him one last time, and that's going to have to be enough closure, for it's all you're going to receive. But still, you can't help but feel the hole in your soul ache with desire for him.

Standing in the middle of an almost barren apartment, you're haunted by memories of happier days. You can remember the first time you and Spencer had walked through the front door, excited for your future together. Little by little, the two of you decorated and furnished the apartment to make it your own private haven where the two of you could seek refuge in each other.

Your hands find Spencer's blanket draped over the back of the couch, and you hold it close one last time, trying to commit the feeling to memory. It lost Spencer's scent long, long ago, but you still cherish it. After you've made peace with it, you fold it and place it in the bottom of a box, and go to the bedroom. Pulling out drawers of the dresser, Spencer's clothes are still neatly folded, just as he had left them. His clothes find their place on top of the blanket, and soon enough, the drawers are empty and more boxes are taped shut.

Evening comes around and you zip up a familiar dress, ready to spend one last night in a familiar restaurant. Today would've been your twelfth anniversary. Just like every year, you had made a very specific reservation, only this year will be the last. Applying mascara to your eyelashes, you give yourself one last look in the mirror. You can still see the young woman you once were in your reflection.

Your phone buzzing on the counter tears your gaze away from the mirror. You see that Derek is trying to call you, and so you pick up without a second thought.

"Hey sweet thing, what are you doing tonight? How about you come over and we have a farewell drink?" He offers and you smile at his generosity, knowing that any other day you would've taken him up on it.

"Sorry Derek, I can't tonight. I've got a reservation." You tell him, knowing that he will understand what you mean. He doesn't keep track of the days like you do, but he's familiar with your annual tradition.

"Okay, another night then, enjoy yourself." His voice is warm as he hangs up the phone. You're grateful that Derek has been a reliable friend throughout the years, and you know you're going to miss him when you move. Of course you'll make the effort to stay in contact, it just won't be the same as having him nearby.

The waitress shows you to your seat and you order the same wine you get every year. It doesn't matter if your tastes have changed, that's not the point. By now the rain is coming down harder, and you can't help but wonder if the Earth is mourning the end of things like you are. Your lipstick leaves faint marks around the rim of the glass and you stare at the empty chair in front of you.

Each year, you try your best to remember what it was like when Spencer was here, but each year your memory becomes more and more hazy on the details. Until one year you couldn't even remember what color tie he was wearing. Instead, all you can recall is the way he made you feel. You intend to drag this dinner out as long as you possibly can, knowing once you leave here that it's just one more piece of Spencer you've had to say farewell to for the final time.

There's a couple sitting at the table next to you, sharing smiles and clinking their glasses together. You try not to stare, but they remind you so much of who you used to be. The woman's eyes have a hopeful spark in them, hopelessly in love with the man who sits across from her who is obviously just as in love with her. When the waitress comes around to ask if you need anything else, you ask if you can pay for their tab.

An hour later, you're swirling around the remnants of wine in your glass. You had finished dinner and consumed enough wine for the night, so now you're just stalling. You can't yet pry yourself up from this spot, still clinging dearly to this part of Spencer you still have. Once you stand up, it'll make this reality all too real, and you can't face it quite yet. So you give yourself a few more minutes to mourn the way you need to and to make your peace here.

You hear the front door open, but your sights are set outside the window, watching the rain pelt the sidewalk. There's some sort of rushed conversation happening by the hostess' stand, but you can't make out the words, not that you're trying to anyways. The couple that you paid for gets up and leaves the restaurant, and that gains your attention. You offer them a weak smile as they giddily exit the restaurant; their happiness only emphasizes your sorrows.

Before you can turn back to resume watching the rain, someone stands in front of you. Your eyes trail up the person's body, only to find Spencer in front of you, hair wet from the rain, hands occupied with a bouquet of pastel-colored tulips. Your heart drops into your stomach and you have to blink a few times to make sure that he's actually real and standing right in front of you.

"Spencer." His name falls from your mouth effortlessly and breathily, shocked to see him here. He licks his lips and looks over you once before meeting your eyes, a familiar look within them.

-----

Spencer paces around his apartment, hair disheveled from raking nervous fingers through it. His mind has been consumed with nothing except for you since he saw you at the BAU. Derek's words keep repeating themselves in his head,

"She still thinks that you're with another woman...make your decision on whether you can let her go or not."

He knows his time is running out and yet he's conflicted as to what is the right thing to do. The logical and rational part of him is quick to remind himself that he left for a reason, for your safety. The photographs in the unsub's room flash before his eyes, vividly reminding him of what kind of danger his presence puts you in.

But the aching in his chest yearns for your touch, to hear your laugh. For years he's been able to make sure that you're taken care of from a distance. Some years he would anonymously send tulips to your apartment, and other times he would pay the leasing agent half of your rent so it would be one less thing for you to worry about. Of course, it had taken some convincing to ensure the agent would keep his donations a secret, and as far as he knows the agent kept good on the agreement.

Nervously, Spencer bites the skin around his nails, a battle of reason and emotion waging itself inside his mind. He turns to pace again, but this time his eyes catch a picture that sits on a side table. It's a small photo, taken in the early days of your relationship. Spencer picks up the picture that he's committed to memory, seeing the bright smile on your face, your eyes wrinkles at the sides from happiness, his lips pressed to your cheek and his arms around your waist.

His mind morphs his own body into another man. And now he's seeing that man's arms around your waist, another man's lips on your cheek, and it's almost enough to bring Spencer to his knees. Abandoning the photo, he moves quickly to put his shoes on with newfound purpose.

He's made his decision.

With rushed movements, Spencer makes his way to the florist he frequents for your flowers. It's a race against the clock, he only has five minutes to spare and he hopes that the florist is still there. The rain makes it hard to see the road, it slows traffic and the anxiety bubbles up in his chest.

With one minute to spare, Spencer enters the florist to see the sweet older lady packing up for the day. His entrance startles her, and she jumps.

"Spencer?" She questions, knowing he's not due back for another month at least. He nods his head frantically,

"Yes ma'am, sorry to come by like this but I'm hoping you can help me." He swallows hard, heart pounding in his chest from the adrenaline flowing in his veins. The woman sees his distraught demeanor and gives him a small smile. Of course she'll help him. After all, Spencer is one of her favorite customers; he always leaves her generous tips.

After fifteen minutes, the florist has constructed a beautiful arrangement with all of your favorite colors, tied up with a bow around the stems.

"Good luck." The florist gives him a knowing smile, and he thanks her before rushing over to your apartment. Spencer's fingers tap anxiously on the steering wheel and his chest heaves with nervousness.

He parks his car along the curb and hops out, practically running into the building. There's a small line for the elevators, and he doesn't have time for that. Not when a lifetime with you is at stake. He takes the stairs at record speed and takes a moment to compose himself once he stands at the door.

With a rush of courage, he knocks on the door and waits to hear your footsteps. But instead he's met with silence. He knocks again, a little harder this time and waits. He's met with silence again. Fearing the worst, he digs his phone out of his pocket and calls Derek, who answers on the third ring.

"Listen she isn't here. I'm at the apartment and she's gone. Did she leave already?" Spencer's voice cracks as he asks the dreaded question, but he needs to know. If Derek tells him that you've left, he won't hesitate to take the first flight to Colorado to find you.

"No, she didn't move yet. I called her earlier, she has a reservation. Remember the restaurant you two went to for your first date?" Spencer rushes out a thank you before hanging up, knowing exactly the restaurant. How could he forget?

You were wearing the most beautiful dress that complimented your body well, your hair was loose around your shoulders, and your eyes held the depths of your love. He knew from that exact moment that he would never find a love like yours again.

He parks and haphazardly shoves his keys into his pockets, instead taking care to handle your flowers with the utmost care. His heart thumps heavily in his chest with each step he takes towards the front door.

He runs a hand through his hair as he approaches the hostess stand, and his words come out very rushed. He asks if there's a woman here matching your description, but the hostess is hesitant to answer. He begs her to tell him, insisting that you'll be here waiting for him. The hostess glances between him and the flowers in his hand before nodding and pointing to where you are.

Spencer swallows hard and thanks her, eyes scanning the dimly lit restaurant for you. A couple laughing gains his attention and he can't help but look. And he's thankful he did, for you're sitting right across from them, a sad smile on your face and sorrow in your eyes.

His feet carry him over to you before he can process what he's doing. As if time moves in slow motion, he watches your eyes move up his body before landing on his face. Your eyes grow wide, your jaw goes slack.

He only hopes that you'll listen to what he has to say.

-----

"What are you doing here?" You ask, eyeballing the flowers in his hand; they're oddly reminiscent of the ones you receive on your doorstep every few months.

Of course, he's probably here to meet his girlfriend, or fiancée, or perhaps even wife. A mixture of nausea and confusion hit you like a brick wall but you try your best to maintain your composure while you feel like your insides are melting. Spencer takes a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours and he finally speaks to you.

"Without you and your love, your touch, your warmth, life is entirely meaningless. Ever since I made the biggest mistake of my life, every day has been like walking through hell. There hasn't been a single day that's gone by that I didn't wish to have you back in my arms or to spend just one more evening with you. And I know this doesn't make up for any of it and I am undeserving of your forgiveness. But, I couldn't let you go without letting you know that I've never stopped loving you." His voice cracks with his confession, and a lone tear rolls down his cheek.

His words sends chills down your spine. What he said just doesn't make any sense. Hadn't he left for someone else? Or perhaps he did and he left her as well, or maybe they're still together and he's just doing this to break your heart one last time. You're conflicted with what you should be thinking and feeling. You had waited for this day for nine years, and now that it's here it doesn't make sense.

"But what about her?" You finally muster up the courage to ask, knowing very well that his answer could break your heart. Spencer shakes his head,

"There was never anyone else." His words sting. Had he left because he fell out of love? Or perhaps he grew bored of you and used a newfound love as an excuse for an easy departure.

The more he speaks, the less you understand. Your eyebrows draw close together in pure confusion, your head shakes and your eyes move from him to the flowers in his hand, another mystery about this situation.

"But you said that you had fallen in love with someone else." You point out, desperately needing some explanation to all of this. Spencer nods his head with a solemn expression.

Instead of answering, he digs some cash out of his pocket and throws it on the table before extending his hand to you, to help you from your seat. The gesture sends your heart soaring, having missed the simplest of touches from him. And no matter how confused you are, you've missed him too much to pass this up. He helps you out of the seat and guides you to the front door with a hand on the small of your back.

A familiar fire within you blooms, one that could only be ignited by Spencer's touch. And with just the slightest contact with him, you feel your frozen heart begin to warm.

Thankfully it appears the rain has stopped, for now at least. The two of you walk slowly beside one another towards the parking lot, something that was once so familiar seems so foreign now. After a few steps you hear Spencer suck in a breath,

"I owe you an explanation." His voice is even, but you can hear his apprehension. You swallow your nerves and agree, wanting to hear every last word he has to say.

-----

By the time you both arrive at the apartment, the sun has fully set and the wind carries a bitter chill with it, piercing through the fabric of your dress. The tension is palpable between the two of you on the elevator ride up, your arms brushing against each other with every little movement.

Your hands tremble as you unlock the door, nervous about being so close to him and what he may tell you. The two of you step through the door and for the first time you see how empty it is, boxes stacked on top of each other throughout the apartment.

Turning around, you watch as Spencer takes in the scene of what his former home now is. Guilt washes over you, but you stay quiet, unsure of what to say. Once he's taken in the apartment, his full attention turns back towards you, his eyes flickering between you and the flowers.

"These are for you." His voice is soft as he hands the flowers to you. You take them, fingers brushing against his as you do.

"Did you- were you the one sending me flowers?" You see the familiar color combinations and arrangement style as the ones you've received off and on for nine years. You had never expected Spencer was the one sending these to you, you had always assumed it was Derek trying to brighten your day. And you had always wondered how Derek knew what your favorite flowers were, but you chalked it up to his profiling skills.

A smile small appears on Spencer's face and he nods. Your heart swells with emotion as it hits you that maybe some of what he said is true, maybe he never has stopped loving you. Not prepared to face all of that just yet, you turn and find a vase to put the flowers in, thankful you hadn't packed them up yet and let them decorate the kitchen counter.

Silence washes over the two of you, but it's short lived as Spencer clears his throat and pulls out a chair at the dining room table. You join him and your blood runs cold as you realize you're sitting in the same places as that day he left. Spencer starts picking at the skin around his nails, opening and closing his mouth as if he can't find the words he's looking for. But you've waited nine years so what's a few more minutes?

"The case I came back from was one of the worst we've ever seen, even to this day." He starts and you nod, leaning forward to soak in every word.

"The unsub had printed out pictures of you hanging from his walls along with the rest of the team. He had a plan to torture each and every one of us, and he was going to use you to hurt me. He had plans to torture you to death." He continues, voice wavering towards the end. Your eyes are glued to Spencer's face as he speaks, never having heard the details of that last case. Derek would never tell you.

"Oh, Spencer." You whisper, wanting so desperately to reach out and comfort him but respecting that he might not want your touch. His eyes glance up to yours, and you see his jaw tense.

"I knew then that my job puts you in too much danger. It was clear that while you were with me that you could be a target for anyone who wanted to get back at us. I couldn't let that happen, I couldn't let someone hurt you because of me." Tears spill down his face and he bites his bottom lip to try and keep his composure. You feel your own lip start to quiver, but you hold it together.

"And I knew if I told you that there was someone else that you wouldn't push the issue. I knew you loved me too much to interfere with my happiness. I used your own love against you and I am so sorry." He sniffles and pushes tears from his eyes.

The two of you cry together, and while you want to be angry because he had lied, you only find yourself feeling overjoyed that he's back; that he wants you back and never fell in love with another. And now knowing that he was still showing his love for you by sending you flowers solidifies that what he's telling you is factual. You only wonder what else he's done that you're unaware of.

Spencer's love runs deep, that much you do know. You're keenly aware that if he went through the trouble of sending you flowers that he was also likely up to other things. But you're okay not knowing, as far as you're concerned, you're just happy he's here.

"I'm so sorry." He cries out again, moving out of his chair and getting on his knees in front of you. You wipe tears from your eyes so you can see him clearly, his glistening eyes beautifully reflecting the light as he envelopes your hands in his.

"I will spend every second of every day earning your love back if that's what it takes. I cannot bear to live this life without you any more, I will do whatever it takes. I love you with every fiber of my being, and I will love you for as many days as there are stars in the sky. As long as the sun rises in the morning and sets every night I will continue to love you. You're the one that completes my soul, you're the one who my heart beats for." Spencer pours his heart out to you as he grips your hands tightly and looks into the depths of your eyes. Your lip trembles as tears continue to stream down your face, unable to contain your overflowing love for the man who kneels in front of you.

Taking your hands back from his, your fingertips graze the soft skin of his cheeks. The familiar warmth brings a smile to your face, one that you never would have thought would come back. You hold the sides of his face, so that you can look at him, really look at him.

His parted lips are wet from tears, his face blushed from crying. Even while he cries on the floor in front of you, he's still the most beautiful man you've ever seen. Unable to hold yourself back, you bring his face to yours and your lips reunite.

It's like the two of you were made for each other, and feeling his lips on yours is like falling back into a familiar rhythm. Spencer stands from the floor and brings you up from your seat, one of his hands wrapping around your waist while the other holds your cheek, bringing you impossibly closer to him.

Your frozen heart warms with a heat long forgotten, and when your lungs burn for air, you pull away and rest your forehead against his. The two of you catch your breath, each unable to keep your hands off of one another. Your eyes meet and you can see the love he holds for you plainly.

This is your Spencer, and he finally came back home. After all these years he finally came back to the place where he left you, the place you had stayed.

-----

"Is that the last one?" You ask, placing books neatly on a shelf. It was a no-brainer that after Spencer came back that you weren't going to move. With him here, there's no place you'd rather be. And so after you had halted your plans, you and Spencer began repiecing your life together.

Turns out, a lot happens in nine years and the two of you spend every moment possible catching up on lost time together. He tells you about some of the most memorable cases, and you tell him about how you made it through in one piece. You both agreed not to spare each other any details, and have agreed to work through whatever issues arise one step at a time and with honesty. And you made Spencer promise that no matter what happens at work, that the two of you will talk and plan together; there's no more running, except for towards each other.

"I think there's one more." He says, showing you the book in his hand before he slides it in the open spot on the shelf. It's the copy of Gone Girl that you had brought into the BAU. Spencer had told you that your theory ended up being right. They found Mrs. Greene as she was staging her alleged kidnapping getaway. And while it wasn't your favorite book, it has a special place in your heart now; without it there's a chance you and Spencer never would have crossed paths again.

You feel Spencer's hands wrap around your waist from behind as he comes back from the shelf, and he hugs you tightly against him, burying his head in the curve of your neck and gently kissing you. Showing affection at every given opportunity has been Spencer's modus operandi. After having lived so long without you, he never wants to stop touching you, or kissing you, or showing you love in any way that he can.

Your eyes flutter shut, soaking in all the love he gives you, placing your hands atop of his and just letting yourself be held by him. Even the smallest moments are cherished now, for you understand their true value.

"I love you." He whispers into your ear before letting you go, and a smile makes its way onto your face while your cheeks heat. Even after nine years he's still able to make you blush like a highschooler with a crush.

"And I love you more." You say, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before moving to pack up the empty boxes that are scattered everywhere.

The two of you stand in the front doorway of your apartment, looking at how everything has come together. Spencer's books are back on their shelves, his blanket is draped over the back of the couch, his clothes back in the dresser, and he's right beside of you. Like it should have always been. Your eyes find one last thing to get rid of alongside the boxes.

Walking over to the dining room table, you rip the stained tablecloth off and crumple it in your hands. This tablecloth holds too many bad, heartbreaking memories to keep it in the place where you two are rebuilding your lives together. Without a second thought, you toss the tablecloth into the trash and you're relieved. Only a short time ago you dreaded the thought of getting rid of it, but now you can't stand the thought of keeping it.

Now it's as if a new light and a fresh breath of life has been given to the apartment. For so long it was representative of all that you had lost, but now it shows you how much you've gained and how far you've come, both of you. Rays of bright sunshine filter in through the sheer curtains, and you take in a deep breath, soul full, content, and at peace.

"We really did it." You breathe out quietly.

"There's only one more thing I can think of that would really make this all come together." Spencer speaks up, and you scrunch your eyebrows together, not seeing anything that you two had forgotten. As you turn to him, you see him kneeling down in front of you on one knee, a small velvet box in his hand.

Your mouth falls open as he opens the box, revealing the most perfect ring you've ever seen. Spencer has a wide smile on his face and a hopeful glint in his eyes.

"My life will never be complete without you by my side, there's nobody on this Earth that can even begin to compare. When I look inside my heart, I can only see you. May I have the honor to take your hand in marriage, will you make me the luckiest man in the world and marry me?" He asks and you nod your head enthusiastically before he can finish the question. Rushing up from the ground, Spencer envelopes you in a hug, lifting your feet off the ground and spinning you around.

As your feet make contact with the ground again, he takes your hand and slides the ring onto your finger. It's a perfect fit. Tears of elation well up in your eyes, and you pull Spencer in for a kiss that's full of love, desire, and passion for him. You both smile into the kiss and only break away to confess your undying love for each other.

"Spencer Reid, you are the love of my life." You say with tears of happiness rolling down your cheek, a wide smile on your face.

"And future Mrs. Reid, you are the reason I wake up every morning, you are the breath in my lungs, and you are the love of my life." He brings you in for another kiss, and you know that you're going to spend every day for the rest of your lives together. No force of man, nor nature, can drive you apart for the love shared between you two runs deep, your souls intertwined with one another for the rest of eternity.

Looking down at the shiny gemstone on your finger, you feel the once fragmented pieces of your heart tie themselves back together, the million pieces seemingly repairable after all. With a smile on your face, you can't wait to marry your soulmate and you're hopeful and grateful for the life you will share together.

- -

Taglist: @spenciesprincess @reedmurdock

405 notes View Post

whydoyoucare866

1 year ago

spencer reid my pookie...they could never make me hate you

17 notes View Post

whydoyoucare866

11 months ago

[11:16 PM] Sakusa Kiyoomi

It's been a while since I last posted about Omi-Omi. Happy (belated) Valentine's Day!

Warning: mild angst but reconciled and happy smut (18+)

Kiyoomi set his gym bag in the usual spot of his apartment. Tonight, his home felt unusually cold and empty.

Switching the lights on, he is met with two floating balloons and a bag with red and pink hearts printed all over it.

He let out a chuckle and grabbed the bag, pulling out the tissue paper that was stuffed inside. He found all sorts of chocolate inside, his favorite chocolates.

Happy Valentine’s Day, jerk.

Y/n

Kiyoomi released a deep sigh. He and Y/n had gotten into an argument two nights ago, he couldn’t even remember what it was about. But it was 48 hours of silence from Y/n, 48 hours of emptiness.

The phone line rang repeatedly until it went to her voicemail.

He’s sent her three texts and they were left unread.

“C’mon…” he whispered, pacing around his place. “Pick up, please…”

A click came from the other line and he exhaled, “Y/n, thank goodness, where – “

“Hi, this isn’t Y/n but I’m her coworker!”

Kiyoomi frowned, and growled, “where is Y/n?”

“We are at a company dinner and she’s here… a little intoxicated…”

Kiyoomi could hear mumblings in the background, “… who is it…”

“Where are you guys?” he asked, heading to the shoe rack to put his shoes on.

He heard muffling but couldn’t hear clearly.

“… don’t tell him where I am…”

“… he’s mean and I don’t – I don’t wanna see him right now…”

His heart dropped.

“Hi, hello? Are you still there? Omi? Is this Omi with a white heart emoji next to your name? The Omi that is mean?”

“Yes,” Kiyoomi answered defeatedly, “this is Omi.”

“Look,” whoever this person on the other line whispered, “she keeps saying you are mean and she doesn’t want to see you but I secretly know she does, women to women, she wants to see you… we’re… we’re at the XXXX restaurant.” She paused before whispering loudly, “come get your girl!”

Kiyoomi’s strides were only half their usual length, and he inserted a two-second pause between each step. Y/n, with a gloomy mood, followed four feet behind him.

Arriving at the restaurant, he discovered her sitting sadly at the end of the table, all alone. Her colleagues were accompanied by their partners, but Y/n was left by herself. Kiyoomi felt a lump of guilt in his throat; he should have been there with her.

Their most recent argument stemmed from this issue. Y/n had requested him to cut short his training if possible for one night, but he declined, emphasizing the priority of his training.

“I’m simply asking if you could leave an hour earlier, or even thirty minutes early to make it to dinner, if it’s feasible. Can you not even manage that?” Her voice was tinged with angst.

“No, you understand how important my training is. I can’t simply leave early for something like this.”

Something like this…

Now, he felt the full weight of guilt engulfing him.

He halted and glanced back, noticing that Y/n had also come to a stop, gazing into the distance. Following her gaze, he spotted a small shop with claw and capsule machines.

He is reminded of his snarky comment about her liking such stupid things.

Walking up to her, he waited until she looked at him. “Let’s go,” he said jerking his head towards the shop.

Her cheeks were still rosy from the alcohol, her eyes weren’t as lively as they should be. “No,” she grumbles, looking away with a pout. “It’s just stupid stuff,” she attempted to walk around him when he caught her wrist and began tugging her towards the store. “What are you doing?”

He ignores her question and tugs her gently along until they get to the change machine. Stuffing a few bills inside to exchange for tokens. “What would you like?”

She looked at the handful of tokens and then his eyes, and with a weary tone she asked, “why are you doing this?”

“Because you like it and it makes you happy,” his tone is gentle and careful, “and I want to see you happy.” He puts a handful of tokens in her palm. “Go, show me what makes you happy.”

Still pouty, she closed her fingers around the token and walked around him.

Kiyoomi smiled to himself, knowing deep down she was excited.

“Are you satisfied with your wins?” He stared at the bag full of plushies and capsule toys.

Y/n nodded, restraining a bright smile on her lips. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Seizing the opportunity, Kiyoomi extended his left hand, asking, “can you hold my hand?” He let out a quite breath when she placed her palm in his. They walked side by side in silence.

“Where are we going?” she asked quietly.

“Let’s go grab some junk food at 7/11 and... my place?” He prayed she would come over but instead, she looked at him as if he had two heads. Chuckling, he knew why she was looking at him weirdly. He was completely against eating any junk food, let alone anything from a convenience store. “A little junk food won’t kill me.”

“It might make you sick though?”

“Shh, don’t jinx me like that.”

Sure enough, it did make him feel sick.

All he ate was a cup of instant ramen, and within less than an hour, he started experiencing stomach churning.

“I told you,” Y/n scolded, yet concern was written all over her face. She quickly ushered him to lie down on the couch.

If it meant for Y/n to nurse him and show him affection again, the stomach ache was worth it.

He groaned, “it hurts…”

Digging through her purse, she tried to look for her pill box. “Here, take this medication. It’ll help with the tummy ache.”

He accepted the small pill and popped it into his mouth, taking it down with water. He grabbed her hand, “rub my tummy like you did that one time.”

Y/n hesitated, staring at him suspiciously before reaching to push his shirt up to reveal his abdomen. She ignored the ripples of muscles and put pressure on a certain area of his body.

Kiyoomi groaned, feeling instant relief.

She reached for his hand and placed it with hers, “when you have a tummy ache, always press this pressure point.”

She was about to stand up when he stopped her. Panicking he asked, “wait, where are you going?”

“I’m just going to make you some rice soup.”

He still pouted, watching her walk away to his kitchen.

A few minutes later, she returned with a bowl of steaming contents. “Bland, just the way you like it,” she mentioned, taking a seat on the edge of the couch. “How is your stomach feeling?”

“It’ll feel a lot better if you do it…”

Y/n scoffed and slapped his hand away, “you’re such a baby.”

“Correction, I’m your baby…”

Y/n narrowed her eyes at him, “who are you and what have you done to Kiyoomi?”

Kiyoomi’s lips turned downwards. “Omi…” he corrected quietly. When she doesn’t respond he bites his lips nervously. “I’m sorry.”

Her brow raised, and she looked at him as if she didn’t comprehend what he was saying.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, louder this time. “I have been a jerk and insensitive to you… I have not been compromising and mean to you and I’m sorry,” he bowed his head. “I don’t want you to be mad at me anymore. I’ll do better, I promise. Please don’t leave me.” His voice cracked at his last part of his sentence.

“Leave you? Who said I was leaving you?”

“But you didn’t want to see me?”

Y/n frowned, confused. “When did I say that?”

“Earlier on the phone, I heard you telling your coworker that you didn’t want to see me…” very quietly he added, “that hurt my feelings.” He felt childish but he wanted to be honest.

“I didn’t want to see you is very different from I’m leaving you,” Y/n clarified. She sighed, running a hand through her hair before reaching for the bowl of soup. She blew to cool the spoonful of soup before bringing it to his mouth. “I said that I didn’t want to see you because I knew I would give in and forgive you.”

He swallows the soup before asking, “please forgive me?”

“I saw your face so I already forgave you.”

He couldn’t ignore the cheering in his mind. “Do you really mean it? You forgive me for being a jerk?”

“Yes, you jerk.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“But you called yourself that too?” Y/n countered, shoving a spoonful of soup into his mouth. “Eat and feel better.”

Kiyoomi smiles, “… kiss me, that would really make me feel better.”

The corner of her lips tugged upward, “you sly jerk…”

He sits up, bringing his face close to hers. “Please, a kiss?”

She pecks his lips.

He pouted, “that’s not a kiss.”

“Yes it is, my lips touched yours.”

He blinked and then frowned, “that was hardly a kiss…”

Y/n raised a brow, challenging him, “then what’s a kiss to you then?”

And he showed her.

He cupped her face, tilting it before pressing his lips against hers. As soon as she gasped, he slipped his tongue in, meeting hers in a tango.

“Omi…” Y/n breathed, pushing him away to catch a breath.

His lips continued to her jaw and down her neck. “Please Y/n…” he begged, tugging at her tucked-in dress shirt. He pulls away and looks at her with dark pupils, waiting for her consent.

She launched at him, knocking him onto his back once more. Her mouth moved hungrily against his as she tugged at his clothes.

“I’m not going anywhere…” he chuckled.

“You will be if you don’t take help take our clothes off…”

Their clothes lay carelessly on the ground seconds later.

Y/n raised herself and straddled his lap. She rocked her hips, gliding her pussy along the length of his cock.

Kiyoomi hissed loudly as his hands gripped her hip tightly, nails digging into her hip bone. “Don’t –“ he choked, “don’t tease me…” He didn’t miss the smirk on her lips.

Having enough of not being inside of her already, Kiyoomi flipped them and shifted her underneath him. His hand found one of hers and threaded their fingers together, clasping tightly. He searched her eyes and she answered by lifting her hips.

“Haa, you’re going to be the death of me,” he sank his cock into her sweet pussy.

He waited a few seconds, savoring the intimate bond. Kiyoomi peers down at her before pressing his forehead against hers and without breaking eye contact, he whispers, “I love you.”

He doesn’t express those three words as frequently as he ought to, but he can observe the way her eyes illuminate when he does. “I love you, Y/n…” he repeated, rocking his hips slowly but deeply. “I know I don’t say it often enough for you but you are my everything… and I never want to be without you again…”

Y/n released a soft whimper and cupped his face, connecting their lips. “I love you too, Omi…”

It was soft lovemaking.

Each rock of his hips was gentle with care, with love.

“Let’s cum together?”

Y/n nodded, tightening her arms around his shoulders and soon their bodies trembled in release.

Kiyoomi pulls Y/n up and they sit down, still connected very intimately. He reached for the bag of chocolate, took a piece, and unwrapped it before placing it into her mouth. Then, he helped himself to a piece as well.

“Thank you for the chocolate,” he murmurs.

Pressing a kiss to his cheek, she whispered, “Happy Valentine’s Day, Omi.”

. . .

E/n: Going back to Teo now...

>>> @queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy

909 notes View Post

whydoyoucare866

10 months ago

TSUMU PLS COME HOME THE KIDS MISS YOU😖😖😣😣😫😫

2K notes View Post

whydoyoucare866

1 year ago

Petrichor [6]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader (little bit of fwb)

Words: 17,546 (next chapter is at most 10k i promise lol)

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, angst, canon violence, blood, bruises, mentions of nightmares, ptsd, jason is a little bit of an asshole, mentions of being tortured, mentions of the roof scene, mentions of being kidnapped, yes i did put an utrh reference in here, i eventually fix things with bruce later

Summary:❝Pylades: I’ll take care of you. Orestes: It’s rotten work. Pylades: Not to me. Not if it’s you.❞

Gotham is home, not just for Jason but for you, too. And now that you’re both finally back home, together, you’re ready to see where this next chapter brings the two of you. He’s your best friend and you’re his. And you both might want a little something more with being back home, the place you both feel most comfortable. Surely, nothing could possibly go wrong now.

A/N: I tried to cut out some scenes from this chapter so I'm sorry lol but everything comes back at some point so it's important. I'm super excited for next chapter lol Also idk if you guys look at my chapter titles but sometimes, 2 chapter titles go together and this is one of those cases and I am so sorry lol It's from the song Destroy Me by PALESKIN if you were curious lol I hope you guys like it!! If you want context from book 1, let me know and I’ll tell you!! You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

By the time the next day comes, Jason and you are nearly as happy as you’ve ever been with each other. Finally, after everything that’s happened and after all these months, you have both the confirmation in your feelings. You have each other, wholly and solely. You are each other's and neither of you could possibly be happier. And for the first time, you're both doing your absolute best to ignore the anxiety that comes with that. For each other.

You both try to ignore the fear of one of you dying, or dying for each other. The fear of one of you leaving or giving up or pushing or running. For the first time, you both are finding it in yourselves to ignore those feelings because you are with the person you both trust the absolute most. And you both know, the other person deserves for you to suck up the fear and the anxiety and make a solid effort in not freaking out. Despite everything you’ve both ever known and been taught, you’re choosing each other and choosing to trust each other to always be by your sides. And you both are so happy. It’s practically euphoric.

“Good luck, Jay.” You offer Jason a sweet and gentle smile as you stand outside of Bruce’s car in front of a large house.

He is not thrilled about this. He’s done it before, several times. It’s exhausting seeing a new shrink, again, and having to tell the same damn stories over and over again. He gets the same diagnoses and that's the end of it. It never really helps. He’s left with another person knowing more about him than he would ever really like. It’s exhausting but it’s this or he’s not Robin anymore. Jason doesn’t give up that easily.

“Yeah.” Jason scoffs, looking to his shoes and back to you. “Thanks.”

“You’ll be fine and it’ll help.” Your smile grows as you pick his hand up in yours.

“We’ll see.” Jason chuckles softly. “Be here when I’m done?” Jason asks with the raise of his brows, hopeful.

In all honesty, you're masking this a bit more tolerable. You promised you’d always come with to drop him off and pick him up. Bruce doesn’t exactly trust you to drop him off. He thinks maybe you’ll ditch the appointments. So, you promise to come with and if you have to spend an hour with Bruce, you’ll do it for him. And he can then bitch to you all he wants about how the shrink doesn’t know shit and Bruce is ridiculous for making him do it. As long as he goes, you’ll be there. Before and after.

“Of course.” You chime, closing the distance between you and capturing his lips in a tender kiss.

“Would rather keep doing this.” Jason mutters against your lips as he snakes his hands onto your waist.

“Too bad.” You kiss him again. “Your mental state comes first, Jaybird.”

Jason chuckles against your lips. “Yeah, alright, princess.”

You laugh softly. “Okay, get in there before you’re late.” You pull away and your smile is gentle. “I love you.” You beam, smiling with full teeth and your eyes are brighter than Jason has ever seen before.

“Love you, too.” Jason chuckles as the fluttering of his heart nearly sends him into cardiac arrest.

You watch Jason walk up the driveway and to the front door before he knocks. You watch and wait until a woman greets him and allows him into her home. A part of you thought maybe he’d try to bail out of it. Actually make a solid effort to anyway. You almost expected him to walk up the driveway and then sprint behind the house and take off, leaving you and Bruce to chase after him. But there he is, going into a therapist’s house on his own and you're happy for him. Relieved.

You don’t always think therapy will help but nothing else is helping him and at the end of the day, he needs help even if he wants to insist he’s fine. Everyone else around him knows he’s not. The limp isn’t because he’s still hurt. You know Bruce well enough to know he would have Jason checked out by a doctor to verify he was fine. It’s in his head which makes it all feel the same as if there were something physically wrong with him. He needs help. And he thinks no one notices his hands and the terrified expression after a nightmare. He can’t work through all his problems alone and he never should have had to. And you're proud of him for doing it even if he’s only doing it so he can be Robin. The point is that he’s going.

“What do we do now?” You ask Bruce as you get back into the front seat.

Bruce almost laughs. You and Jason have been beating around the damn bush since you showed up and you're finally doing something about it. Of course, never mentioning what that thing is to him and he finds the whole exchange a little amusing. Bruce has never told anyone, but Jason has always reminded him a little bit of himself. But, Jason is his son and you clearly make him happy.

“We could grab lunch while we wait.” Bruce offers.

“That’s fine.” You offer Bruce a soft smile.

Your issues remain with him. A part of you thinks Jason’s problem is still Bruce. Bruce was a lot of Dick’s issue. Had Bruce gotten Dick into therapy instead of giving him a mask and a cape, maybe Jericho wouldn’t have died because Dick would have been able to handle his problems better. Or, at the very least, maybe Dick could have handled that entire situation better and it wouldn’t have led Jason and you after Dr, Light. Maybe it wouldn’t have led Jason to the roof that day. Dick is an adult who can handle his own problems, but he was just a kid who was never taught how and you think the same is said for Jason.

Jason’s case is a little different. He wasn’t thirteen when Bruce took him in. But, maybe Bruce still could have done better. You do, however, admire the fact he’s trying now and maybe that’s what matters. He’s here now and trying and doing the one thing that might actually help. Forcing him to get help before he’s Robin again. You will never admit that to anyone though. So, you just go along with him for lunch and try your best.

After lunch, Bruce and you head back to pick up Jason. He’s not feeling great after the therapy session. He was never one that liked it very much. He was tossed around between therapists and psychiatrists while he was in the system. It was always repeating the same story over and over again, none of them offering anything that ever really helped. It was always more a state requirement and not because anyone actually gave a shit where his mental health stood. This therapist seems different than the others but like with everyone, Jason isn’t sure he trusts her. He gave her the same spiel about his parents and asked about her because that seemed easier than the same old boring story. But, she at least communicated with him and that part was at least nice.

“So, how did it go?” You ask once you're back at the manor in your room and away from Bruce. “You don’t have to tell me what you talked about or anything. Just asking how it went.” You shrug with ease.

“Fine, I guess.” Jason shrugs his shoulders as he stands near your fireplace. “Still not fucking happy about it.” A chuckle leaves his lips.

“Figured.” You match the chuckle, leaning back onto your hands, the bed soft under your palms. “When do you go again?”

“Next week.” Jason scoffs.

“Well, I’ll be there for you.” You smile softly at him and Jason thinks that’s the only upside. At least you’ll be there before and after.

“Yeah, thanks.” Jason lets out a breath. “Okay, well fuck that shit.” He approaches you, his eyes narrowing slightly as a smirk splits his lips. “Get ready. We’ve got a date to have.” He leans down, resting his hands on either side of you.

He’s tired of talking. He doesn’t want to talk about it. He’s going to do everything in his power to avoid it today. It’s too heavy and he wants today to be perfect. It’s your first date. Officially, as a couple.

“Oh, we’re going soon?” You perk up as your stomach swirls. This is real. It’s happening.

“Hell yeah. Got a whole fucking night planned, babe.” His voice is low and the way he smiles like this, the light hits his canines just right and it looks like he has small fangs. He’s so endearing.

“What are we doing?” You beam with excitement as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“You’ll see. Go get ready.” Jason urges, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Okay, Jay.” You peck his lips before Jason pulls up and lets you out of his grasp.

You get up and go to get ready. And Jason starts to feel nervous.

Technically, him and Rose never went on an official date. They mostly ran around Gotham, doing busts and then spent more of their time hiding out in someone’s house. There were no official dates. And come to think of it, Jason doesn’t think he’s ever done this before and he’s thinking maybe he went a little overboard with what he has planned. But he knows you better than anyone and he knows what you like. But then he comes back to realizing maybe he doesn’t know what you would like in forms of a date, it might be different than your usual thing. He’s just hoping he doesn’t royally fuck this up like he tends to have a habit of doing.

You meet Jason back in his room. You don't do much with your hair or your makeup, keeping both mostly the same as usual but you wear one of your nicer jackets. And even then, he swears you look beautiful. He smiles softly at you. He’s so in love with you and he really hopes you like the date.

He walks up to you and takes your hand in his. He hopes you don’t notice his hands are cold and clammy. You do but you think it’s cute. Jason nervous is not something that happens very often but the idea of him being nervous for your date, makes your head swim and your bones vibrate. He’s so cute.

The two of you head off on Jason’s bike, arriving at a movie theater in the city. Jason takes you to see a movie you mentioned wanting to see. It’s simple but it’s something he knows you really like movies. And he’s not one for big fancy dates. This is simple and it’s you. You find the gesture adorable because you don’t like the idea of a fancy restaurant either. This is kind of your thing. You’d go with a group sometimes, sure, but it’s your way of showing him how much you care. Showing him your things and movies is one of those things. And you adore him for it.

After the movie, you head back to the manor where Jason has insisted the date isn’t over yet. While he’s not one for something fancy, he is one for making an effort. Words are hard, they always have been and he knows sometimes he’s never going to be able to tell you exactly what you mean to him. But, for your first date, he can make as big of an effort as he can to show it. Even though you don’t need him to. You already know.

“Okay, keep your eyes closed.” Jason states as you both stand in the main living room, his hand intertwined with yours.

“If you walk me into a door, Jason--”

“I won’t!” Jason laughs. “Do you trust me?” He asks and it’s a little sarcastic and cocky.

“Yes.” You mock, keeping your eyes closed but you want to roll your eyes at him.

“Okay, so trust me.” Jason states as he leads you through the kitchen and into the courtyard.

He looks around, letting out a breath and he definitely owes Molly and Bruce for this one. Though, he thinks they’ll be giving him enough shit that maybe he won’t have to.

“Okay, you can open.” Jason nearly holds his breath as you open your eyes to see the backyard.

There’s a projection screen in the grass with a projector on one of the outdoor tables. Blankets and pillows cover the grass in front of the screen. The tables are lined with a variety of snacks, all of them being your favorite. And there are fairy lights decorating the rest of the courtyard.

Jason remembers what you said about that scene in Tangled, with the lanterns. Fairy lights aren’t lanterns, but they give somewhat of the same effect. So, he took inspiration from it. Because maybe, Jason’s a little bit of a hopeless romantic underneath the trauma. And he’d do anything for you. Cliche and cheesy and all.

“You--how?” You look over at him, eyes wide and a smile tugging at your lips. A lump forms in your throat as your entire chest nearly combusts into flames.

“I asked Molly and Bruce for help while we saw the movie.” Jason grins at you. “You didn’t really think we were just watching a movie for our first date, did you?” Jason quips, hiding his nervousness under his cocky grin.

“You asked for help?” You ask and you're not sure what’s more surprising. The courtyard or Jason asking for help. “I actually knew we’d go see a movie but this? Wow.” You look around, your voice soft and tender.

“Yeah.” Jason scoffs. “Look, you deserve it and you liked that scene in Tangled so. I needed some help while I distracted you.”

You swear it’s perfect because at the end of the night, it’s just him and you. It’s him and you in the courtyard watching your favorite movies. It’s him and you when it matters. He’s thoughtful and caring and kind and loving. Jason has only ever known pain and neglect but when it comes to you, he manages to show love and tenderness. You don’t really understand how he manages it but you're eternally grateful for this boy with dark hair and green eyes.

“It’s beautiful.” You say softly. “Thanks, Jay.”

“You like it?” Jason asks, stuffing his hands into his front pockets, something you've picked up he does when he’s nervous.

“Yes, of course!” You beam. You let go of his hand and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him for a deep kiss. His hands meet your hips as if on instinct, giving a light squeeze.“What’re we watching?” You ask against his lips.

Jason pulls away and there’s a grin of pride and confidence this time. “I’ve got Ready Or Not lined up since we didn’t get a chance to see it before it left theaters and Little Women. I read the book and the trailer seemed good. I think you’ll like it.” Jason states as he squeezes your hips again.

“Do you really remember everything I tell you? And I did want to see Little Women, just didn’t think you’d be into it.” You chuckle softly.

“Yeah,” Jason’s chuckle is gentle this time, bashful even. “It’s important to you.” He rolls his shoulders. “See, I know you.” Jason grins at you, wiggling his brows.

“Yeah, you do.” You scrunch your nose before pressing another kiss to his lips and dropping your arms from him. You head over to the snacks. “This is really nice, Jay.” Your smile is gentle and you love him with every fiber of your existence. “Thank you.”

“You deserve it.” Jason holds his head with pride, joining you to grab snacks.

“I get to plan the next date.” You offer him a devious smirk.

“Now, that’s unsettling.” Jason teases. “But fine.”

The two of you grab your snacks and head off to the blankets and pillows that are laid out for you before Jason starts the first movie. The two of you cuddle up with each other, attention mixing between the movie and each other. Your legs are rested over him as his arm is behind you and you just exist together.

To love, wholly and honestly, is terrifying because of the pain that seems to be intertwined with love. To love is to be brave and honest and optimistic. To love is something powerful but, to be loved back, that’s the greatest feeling in the world.

It’s the acceptance and understanding that comes with being loved back. It’s being loved for every broken piece and every bad, ugly, and terrible moment that comes. It’s knowing there will be bad days and hard days where the world seems to want to destroy every happy and peaceful moment, but choosing that person anyway. Falling in love is accidental, but staying in love is done on purpose. And that is why it’s so indescribable and remarkable and powerful. It is choosing to love and be loved back, risking the pain. And at the end, it’s worth it.

For Jason. And for you.

Over the next few days, everyone gets the news you and Jason have finally made things official. Gar and Kory actually kind of figured you were together. It was more of an inside joke with the Titans back in San Francisco. How long it was going to be before the two of you realized you were actually dating. Gar won. Dick wasn’t in on it (mostly because he thought you were friends this whole time who were just too oblivious and stubborn to say anything). So, they’re all happy to see the two of you happy together. Even Conner who didn’t really get a chance to know Jason and who only knew you for a short time.

Molly is your biggest fan though. She’s the best friend of the two of you. Her best friends are dating each other and she knows you’re both stubborn as hell with minimal self-preservation unless it comes to your hearts. You’ve both always been so guarded and she swears up and down, you’re supposed to be together. You’re the most guarded people she’s ever met and yet, the two of you manage to open up to each other. She swears you’re meant for each other.

Today, Jason goes out with Molly while you hang back at the manor to have a training session with Bruce and a marathon with Gar afterward. The training session is fine but it's definitely not as fun without Jason. So, you're relieved when you can just sit down and have your marathon with Gar, filling him in a little bit on you and Jason. He's really happy for you both and it means a lot to you. He's your best friend.

But, with the marathon underway, it’s interrupted as Bruce walks into the living room.

“Excuse me.” Bruce calls from the doorway, pulling your attention away from the show and Gar.

“Is that Bruce Wayne?” Gar beams.

“Yes.” You furrow your brows at the screen before looking back at Bruce. “Oh, did you need the living room? I can move to my room.”

“No, no.” Bruce shakes his head. “You're fine in here. I was wondering if I could speak to you, however.”

“Uh…” You look back to your screen. “We’re…we’re kind of watching something, can we talk later or do you need to talk now?” You don’t know why he didn’t just talk to you earlier.

“I would like to talk now before Jason gets home.” Bruce states.

“Oh…” You widen your eyes before looking at the screen. “Pause it and I’ll call you back when we’re done?”

“Yeah, yeah of course. Hey, Bruce.” Gar chimes.

“Hello, Garfield.” Bruce chuckles slightly as he walks further into the living room.

“Okay, I’ll call you soon. Don’t continue without me.” You warn with a fake glare that turns into a cheeky smile before you end the call.

Bruce takes a seat at the armchair beside the couch and you watch him cautiously. It’s weird. You don’t really talk one-on-one and if you were being honest, you prefer it that way. You're growing to like Bruce, slowly. He doesn’t seem so bad. It’s just, every time you have that thought, you can hear Dick in the back of your head warning you. And Jason telling you about Dick taking out one of the trackers he knew about and how he shouldn’t do that because Bruce is looking out for them. And you catch yourself keeping your distance. So, you don’t normally talk like this unless you have to and it’s sending off alarms in your head.

“What’s up?” You ask slowly.

“How are you?”

You raise a brow at him. It’s weird because Bruce definitely doesn’t seem the type to be asking someone how they are. “Uh…fine. Yeah, I’m fine.” You nod at him, giving him a soft smile. “Why?” Your eyes narrow with suspicion.

“You have been through a lot. I wanted to make sure you were okay with everything that has happened.”

“Uh…yeah? Still fine, just the usual, I guess.” This is fucking weird. Even for Bruce Wayne. “Why didn’t you ask earlier?”

“We were training. I didn’t want to distract you.” Bruce sucks in a deep breath.

“Um…okay. Well, I’m fine. I’m just trying to watch some stuff with Gar.” You nod your head and he said he wants to talk before Jason gets home which means there is something about Jason he wants to talk about. “Bruce, I appreciate you checking up on me but if I’m being honest, I think you know I’m fine or that I will be and I am getting better because I know Dick and Jason filled you in. So, I think you’re asking how I am so you can ask about Jason.”

“I do want to know how you are.” Bruce defends in his usual stoic way that's somehow a little unsettling.

“Yeah, no, I mean I’m sure you care and everything. But, if what you really want to know is about Jason, you can just ask.” You let out a sigh and you can’t understand why these bird boys have to beat around the damn bush so much. “If you wanted to ask about me, it wouldn’t matter if Jason were home.” You nod your head as you scrunch your nose.

Bruce lets out something you think might be a chuckle. “Is he okay?”

You blink at him because you can’t believe he’s asking you that. Surely, he knows. That’s why he’s going to therapy because he’s not. Seriously what is it with the batboys that they can’t just talk?

“You sent him to a shrink?” You question.

“I mean,” Bruce clarifies. “Since going. He hasn’t said much to me. I want to make sure he’s okay.”

Truthfully, if Bruce actually wanted to be honest, that isn’t really why he’s asking. He sees a lot of himself in Jason. That is the problem. He doesn’t want Jason running himself into the ground over being Robin. Bruce has done that to himself too many times. He’s been thinking about it and what Jason means to him as a son. He’s worried about him, even with the therapy. Bruce knows you care about him. He hopes that’s enough for you to give him some insight

“Why?” You ask slowly as you narrow your eyes.

“He’s my son and I’m worried about him.” Bruce answers candidly.

“Yeah, no, I mean why are you asking me?” You shake your head, a snip your voice. It’s not your job to communicate for the two of them. They’re adults.

“I thought you might know.” Bruce nods.

“Of course, I know, I know everything about him. But you should know if he’s okay.” You widen your eyes as you furrow your brows. “He’s your son.”

Bruce lets out a sigh of defeat but you keep talking.

You have more to say. It’s not your job to communicate between the two of them but it’s clear someone needs to. You don’t care much for Bruce but Jason does. And that’s important. And he’s not okay. You think seeing Leslie will help him but, maybe telling Bruce isn’t such a bad idea. Jason needs the help and that means telling Bruce.

“Bruce, I think Jason Todd has never been okay a single day in his life.” Your voice is quiet and normally you wouldn’t be saying anything but it’s gotten to the point where you're really worried about him.

You being officially together over the last week has been absolutely incredible. You both are certainly the happiest you’ve both ever been with each other. But, Jason is derailing anyway and you always knew it would happen. Your validation for him is not what he needs. It will never be the thing that he needs because you're not Bruce and you're not Dick and that’s fine. It is never about your validation when it comes to him. His issues lie with the two of them, not you. So, Bruce making him see a therapist, is driving him a little bit insane. It’s only been a week though, so you hold out hope maybe it’ll help in the long run. But, you tell Bruce anyway because he should know. He always should have known.

Bruce nods with understanding. “He has not had an easy life.”

“Yeah, no shit.” You let out a scoff. “I think saying he hasn’t had an easy life is putting it lightly.” There’s a snark and a bite to your voice because you can just hear Dick in the back of your head.

Not to trust him. It doesn't matter that Bruce and Dick sorted out their shit. A part of him doesn’t trust Bruce and every time you think maybe, just maybe, Bruce has changed enough where Dick is wrong, he says something or does something where you know he hasn’t. This is one of those things. He shouldn’t be asking you if Jason is okay or saying he hasn’t had an easy life. It’s his literal job to know if Jason is okay and how to help him. It shouldn’t be up to you to tell him.

Bruce nods. “It’s been rough for him.”

“Ya know, it’s just….I don’t think Jason has ever felt….protected, safe, cared for….or loved in….at least most of his life. He felt, at least, most of that here and as Robin but all of that is gone and Deathstroke changed a lot of that. Bruce, he’s not okay and I am only even telling you this because I’m worried.”

Being happy in a relationship doesn’t make the pain of everything traumatic that’s happened just go away. It doesn’t work like that. It doesn’t suddenly fix and mend and cure mental illness. You wish it did but it doesn’t. Being happy and traumatized can co-exist. He is happy with you and you know that, but in the last week, he’s still waking up screaming from nightmares and he’s still limping after training. He’s still terrified. And you're endlessly worried about him.

“He can’t be Robin again, not yet. I made mistakes with Dick and I don’t want to repeat them with Jason. That’s why I want him to see Leslie.”

It’s not that you agree or disagree with it. But you do want to know why Bruce treats Jason and Dick the same way. They’re wildly different people. Maybe taking Robin from Dick and sending him to therapy would have worked, simple as that. But Jason isn’t Dick. Robin means everything to him. Why can’t he be Robin and see Leslie? Why does he have to be benched entirely instead of half the week even? It’s just not very fair to Jason, in your opinion.

“Okay, I get that, but you know Jason. He’s gonna prove to you he can be Robin.” You shake your head. “He’s going along with it for right now and maybe it’ll help. I hope it does, but what if it doesn’t?” You raise.

“We’ll have to have that conversation if we get there.”

“Okay yeah, and what you want him to just see a shrink for the next year with his fingers crossed he’s not permanently benched from the most important thing in his life? Only for something to happen and you rip it away from him entirely?”

“You believe he should be Robin at this point? You just said yourself he is not okay. It’s not safe for him to be out there. Do you think it would be safe to send him out there if he is deemed not well enough?”

It's not that. It's that you know, firsthand, that Jason will absolutely go out of his way to prove himself. You both do it. Jason isn't going to be able to stay benched for months on end. He's just not going to. And you know that. The fact Bruce doesn't when he knows why Jason wanted to go after Dr. Light, is infuriating. And it scares the hell out of you.

He's going to prove himself if Bruce doesn't give him Robin back eventually. One day, Jason is gonna think he's had enough and he just needs to prove himself and he'll try. The last time that happened, you both were kidnapped, tortured, and dropped from a skyscraper. And that is lucky. Somehow, that was actually lucky because you both made it out alive. What happens if he doesn't get so lucky next time?

“Whatever I think about him being Robin is completely irrelevant. It’s not my place to have an opinion. It is yours but…I’m just saying, he’s gonna prove to you he can be Robin eventually. He’ll get bored and tired of waiting.” You state. “He did in San Francisco.” You shake your head. “He’s gonna get himself killed one day if he does that, to prove you wrong.”

With Robin off the table, the training sessions have gotten…a little nuts. He’s rougher than usual and you can handle it just fine, he's not out of control. But he’s more relentless. He’s training himself into the ground again. He just wants to prove to Bruce that not only is he capable, but he’s better than Dick ever could be. Without even realizing it, Bruce doing this and the way he treated Dick, he’s pitting them against each other. And Jason is set on proving to Bruce he’s fine. No matter the cost.

“He won’t do that. He knows the rules. If I tell him not to go—“

“Dude, seriously? We knew the rules in San Francisco, too and then we went anyway. Jason is your responsibility and you have to do something, I can do everything I can but it’s not gonna be enough.” You stress because even when you have hope that therapy is gonna help over time, you aren’t sure if Jason is actually going to put in the time to let it work. And you're worried what will happen if he quits.

“I can’t let him be Robin and let him get killed out there. You said yourself, he will get killed out there. I made mistakes in the past, I cannot repeat them.”

A part of you want to blow. You were always right about him. He wouldn’t have to worry so damn much if he would stop recruiting kids to be fucking Robin. He wouldn’t have to worry so much if he would stop weaponizing their grief. He turned Jason and Dick into weapons and he’s, somehow, the one paying the consequences of that. You think the whole thing is ridiculous. It’s like he doesn’t see what he’s done to either of them and how fucked up this whole thing is. But, that’s not your place to tell him off about him recruiting people. For Jason’s sake. So, you decide you're gonna fall back on your usual reasoning for having a distaste towards him.

“Okay, you know what, you wouldn’t have to worry so fucking much if you’d just kill those fucks. Like, you know that right?” You snip.

“We do not kill people.” Bruce’s jaw squares just slightly. “We talked about this. Once you kill one person, it gets easier to kill the next until the lines blur. We cannot be the ones deciding who lives and who dies.”

You let out a scoff followed by a hollowed laugh. “And at what point is that not good enough?” You grit your teeth. “How many times have you captured the Joker?”

Bruce knows the number but he won’t say. “Several. I always catch him.”

“And every time Joker escapes, he kills at least one person. So, if over the last 10 years, you got more than 10 people killed by letting the Joker roam around and one of those people were my mom.” A lump forms in your throat with the mention of your mom. It’s some sick joke him and the Joker like to play almost. It’s like a damn game of chicken in the worst fucking way. “You let the Joker kill my mom. I’m not talking about Penguin or Scarecrow, I’m talking about killing the Joker. He puts bombs in buildings for fun. He’s killed thousands of people since I’ve been alive. You could have saved those innocent people if you would have just killed the Joker.” You shake your head. “And he’s the main one you’re worried about, right? He just escaped Arkham again, right?”

You shake your head and this whole thing is insane. It’s not even that you expect Bruce to toss his morals out the window. But you think it’s something he should consider if he's so damn worried about it. Deathstroke was different. He was the best mercenary in the world. You and Jason never stood a chance but the fuckeads here? Bruce’s usuals, they aren’t much concern besides one. And you know it. That’s why you’re having this talk right now.

“It’s the Joker. We literally laughed in Penguin’s face. Mr. Freeze, Bane, Scarecrow, and Mad Hatter are all locked up. Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy aren’t even a concern. The Riddler doesn’t kill people. I know you are not worried about fucking Condiment Man or Kite Man. I can keep going. But it always comes back to the Joker being the main concern, if Jason fucks up out there with him, that's it. Right?”

Bruce gains a scowl. He doesn’t appreciate you calling him out. You aren’t right but you aren’t wrong either. “It is not just about the Joker. And I cannot cross that line.” Bruce states firmly. “You should know that. You cannot cross that line either. The Joker is still a person and I will not determine if he gets to live or die. That is not how this works.”

“And what are you gonna do when he kills Jason? Or Dick? Or the next Robin? It’s gonna happen, it will. He’ll kill one of them eventually and then it’ll be too late.”

“I will not kill him for a what if situation.” Bruce lets out a sigh and this is not where he thought this conversation was going to go. A part of him thinks there’s a chance you're doing this on purpose to avoid telling him more about Jason. You're good at deflecting and not just when it’s about yourself. “That is not justice.”

“Then the guilt will eat you alive when it happens and then I’ll find a way, myself, to kill whoever kills him. Joker’s death is inevitable regardless and you could prevent the death of your sons.” You shake your head and get up from your spot, grabbing the tablet from the table. “I respect what you try to do as Batman and taking in Dick and Jason. I think that’s admirable. But, I think everyone has morals and sometimes you have to toss your morals aside for the greater good.”

“Even if that means someone has to die?”

“The Joker is a homicidal psychopathic sadist…so yeah. I don’t narc, I don’t tell anyone what happens with me and Jason, ever. But I’m telling you that he is not okay. Putting my morals aside because I care about him. I know you do, too, but you need to figure out how to get that through his thick skull or let him be Robin. It’s that simple. Always has been. Always will be.” You end the conversation, heading back to your room because that conversation was going nowhere and it never will.

You feel your blood boil and there is just something about Bruce sometimes. You don’t see it. You don’t see why Jason looks up to him so much. Maybe it’s just because Bruce saved him. Maybe some part of Jason is so hung up on that that he can’t see through Bruce’s other bullshit. But it irks you anyway, even when Bruce is genuinely trying to be better with him.

You just find the whole thing real rich. If he didn’t want to watch his kids die, he shouldn’t have offered them the vigilante lifestyle from the beginning. Maybe they both would have ended up here anyway. They both like to help people and that can’t be just a Bruce thing. But, maybe it would have been safer.

Maybe had Bruce offered therapy from the start, it would have been better or if he could just have a damn conversation with them. Literally, anything could work besides what he’s doing now. Training them to be brainwashed, taking them out to the cabin, training their bodies into a world of pain. Manipulating them with the idea of being invincible because of a mask and a cape. Anything has to be better than that.

And you feel like you can’t even tell Jason about it because he’ll get mad and annoyed further with Bruce. He’ll be annoyed he went to you to talk. And you know him, you just know he’ll think it’s because Bruce doesn’t think he’s good enough and you can’t let him think that about himself. And it is not your place to complain about his adoptive father. So, you keep it to yourself as you grind your teeth and call Gar back.

You pretend everything is fine as you and Gar continue your marathon until Jason gets home a few hours later.

“Hello, beautiful.” Jason chimes as he stands in the doorway of your room.

You look over with burning cheeks. He looks happy right now. So, you smile back, pretend like you aren’t still annoyed with Bruce. The call with Gar helped but then he had to go and the annoyance flooded you once more.

“Jaybird.” You say with ease as Jason walks into your room, tossing his jacket onto the end of your bed.

“How’s Gar?” He presses a kiss to your forehead before sitting down beside you.

“Good.” You answer simply as you suck in a breath. “He, uh, he misses us and Rachel but he said he’s good. He really likes being a Titan, you know Gar.” You laugh softly.

“He could come visit.” Jason chuckles softly.

He misses him, too. They lived down the hall from each other for four months and went through some crazy shit together. They’re best friends. Jason thinks it’d be cool to have Gar come. He could show him the Batcave.

“That’s what I said.” You widen your eyes. “He said he’d ask Dick about it.”

“Cool.” Jason laughs softly.

“Yeah.” You let out a breath as you look back to the tablet.

Jason watches you carefully and he knows you. Something’s off. You usually have more to say. You usually ask about Molly or whatever Jason is up to when he comes back home. You didn’t this time and you look like you're not really here with him. Your eyes are distant. The corners don’t crinkle when you laugh. Your jaw is clenching and you didn’t even mention what you and Gar watched.

“You going out tonight?” He asks and his words are a little flat.

He doesn’t mean for them to be. But, it’s sore. You still go out with Bruce. You asked him what you should do because you didn’t want to overstep. Going out on patrol with Bruce is Jason’s thing. But, you don’t really want to give it up either. You love patrolling and the more you do it, the more you understand why Robin has become Jason’s entire world. But, if Jason asked you not to go with Bruce, you wouldn’t. You’d go on your own if you had to. But, Jason assured you it was fine even if it hurts, even if he wants to tell you to not to do it. Even if feels like you're overstepping.

You shake your head and furrow your brows, bringing your attention back to him. “No, I just wanna stay here with you tonight.” You scrunch your nose, trying not to set off Jason’s alarm bells.

You don’t want to be around Bruce. The only thing you want to do is be with Jason tonight. You love patrolling but not tonight. Not tonight when you're reminded of the cruelty you face every day and the life-or-death stakes that exist outside of this manor. Outside of this safe bubble. The conversation, knowing the Joker is out there and likely who Bruce will be trailing tonight, reminds you of what could happen out there. You know. You already know but sometimes conversations take place and it becomes real. Patrolling and fighting, that’s fun and it’s easy to forget the stakes. And while you're terrified of Jason dying, he’s not the one going out there right now. You are. What would he do if you didn’t come home?

You just want to stay here with him tonight. It’s too heavy tonight.

“What’s wrong?” Jason asks, searching your face for any indicators.

“Nothing.” You lie. “Can’t want to stay in for a night with my boyfriend?” You say it like that on purpose but Jason sees through it.

You aren’t as insistent on patrol as he is. But you haven’t missed a single night since you got the suit. You're turning it down and he doesn’t get why. There’s something wrong and he knows it. He always knows.

“I know your fucking obsessed with me,” Jason starts with a chuckle, earning himself an eye roll. “But, I know when something’s going on with you.”

“It’s nothing, Jay.” You sigh. “I just want to stay in.”

“What happened?” Jason pushes, gritting his teeth because now he’s thinking someone did something. To you.

He thinks of the conversation with Molly, how she thinks you'll run. She told him she's worried that you're gonna be the one to fuck it up, not him. And that if you do, Jason should just not let you, even if he wants to push. It's what you both do, push and run. Molly is right. It’s what you do but if you both don't want to hurt each other, you both need to find a way not to do that. So, he tries.

“Can you drop it, please? I’m fine.” You rest a hand on his cheek, offering a tender smile. “Thank you.”

“Worried about you.” Jason states.

“How the tables have turned.” You widen your eyes, dropping your hand.

“I’m fucking serious.” Jason doesn’t so much as grin at you.

He can’t lose you. He is so certain of that. He can’t lose you in any capacity. So, he pushes just as you do with him. There’s something wrong and if someone did something, to scare you out of going on patrol, he doesn’t care what Bruce says. He’ll go back out there.

“I….Bruce he talked to me about something and I just…” You grit your teeth. “I don’t want to go out tonight.” You shrug your shoulders, voice laced in annoyance.

“What did he do?” There’s a mix of anger and confusion in his voice. Jason trusts Bruce but he knows as much as you fake it, he knows you don’t.

“Nothing.” You shake your head. “Just, uh…Joker was brought up and you know. Shit sucks. So I just don’t want to go out tonight.” You bite your tongue with every worry you have because you can’t burden him with it.

You can't put worried thoughts into his head. He has enough going on. And you know that he does worry, in his own way, when you're out there. He's more subtle than you are and he's not nearly as paranoid but he loves you and wants you to be safe. It's a natural thing. You don't want to add to that burden by saying you're worried about what he'd do if you died. On top of the rest of the conversation with Bruce, it's just too much and you don't want him to deal with it. Not right now.

“Your mom?” Jason asks.

“Yeah.”

“You know you can tell me, right?” Jason questions, getting the feeling it’s more than that. When it involves your mom, you're sad and you tell him. You seem annoyed today.

“I know.” You offer a weak smile. Guilt feeling heavy in your chest. “It’s just….it’s heavy today and I’m tired of it being heavy. I’m fine though, Jaybird. Can you just…..read to me when Bruce leaves, please?”

Jason nods softly, moving closer to you. “Yeah, of course. Did you want to talk about it?” He asks before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Thanks, Jay.” You smile softly. “No, I’m okay.”

“You and me.” Jason smiles softly and he’s worried about you, too.

You rest your forehead against his shoulder. “I’m sorry, it’s just one of those days, ya know? Where it just…”

“Feels worse again.” Jason finishes.

“Yeah.” You pick your head up.

He wants to help and Bruce doesn’t leave for a few more hours. So, his solution is training. It always helps you, too anyway. He just doesn’t want you to feel the heaviness of it and if he doesn’t have to carry the weight alone, neither do you. It’s like he told you, you can put it on him. He’ll carry it for you.

“I get it.” Jason stands up abruptly. “Wanna train about it?” Jason wiggles his brows, offering you his hand.

You roll your eyes but there’s a smile tugging on your lips. He always gets it. “Yeah, I almost won yesterday.” You put your hand in his, getting to your feet.

“Maybe I let you win one round, think of that?” Jason teases.

“You wouldn’t let me win anything.” You scrunch your nose. “You’re too competitive.” You beam at him as Jason lets out a laugh and swings his arm over your shoulders.

“Guess that’s true.” He says as the two of you make your way to train.

You know you’ll tell him your concerns later and tell him about Bruce because while it might not be fair to tell him, it’s also not fair for you to hide it. He trusts you and he’s doing better about telling you everything that bothers him. You owe him the same. But right now, it's just too heavy to deal with and you just want to sit with him and forget about everything for a while.

Jason is really good about helping you forget and letting you relax so it’s easier to tell him. It's one of the many reasons you adore him and wholeheartedly love him more than anything on this planet.

After a few rounds of sparring, you having lost because Jason really can’t let you win, you move to the targets. When Jason runs out on his end, he takes a break, sitting a few feet behind you and to the right, having a drink of Gatorade.

He watches you when you train. There’s something enthralling about it. You throw the knives at the target with so little effort, Jason can’t help but stare. He remembers how bad you were at combat all those months ago. He never told you, but you were not good. It was obvious you never wanted to throw a punch, like you never hit someone before and you hadn’t. Maybe a part of him thought you might be hopeless. Even when you fought Jerry, Jason is pretty sure you only got as far as you did because he was surprised and you had a hit of adrenaline hit your system from the anger. You never stood a chance otherwise. But now, you make Jason actually put up a fight in training.

He puts in effort to make sure you don’t pin him now. You never miss a target. You're even getting over your fear of heights with having to grapple from building to building and with being on so many rooftops. You're so good at all of this now and his entire chest warms because he knows a part of that is because of him. But the other part, wants to completely shatter.

On the one hand, you never wanted to be violent. You told him that, more than once. You never wanted to be this way and now you are. It’s not his fault. He didn’t make you that way. That was Jerry, that was the Joker. But he looks at what you've become and he feels guilty anyway because he doesn’t stop you from being violent. He encourages it. And he thinks of how he was before Robin.

It wasn’t that Jason was violent. That was never it. He could pick a fight just as good as the next person. But it was out of survival. It wasn’t because he liked the bloody and bruised knuckles. Or coming back with his body covered in shades of navy and maroon and the pain that went along with it. It was how he had to survive. Fight or die. Fight or let people take advantage of him.

He was small. He got lucky he grew taller as he got older but he was a small kid. It was either learn to fight and take what he could or get taken advantage of or die trying. It was learn to fight and hold his own or deal with whatever his dad would dish out or the new guy his mom brought home that didn’t really like kids. It was never that he wanted to be violent.

He was just angry with the world. Robin gives him the outlet. Robin lets him be violent in a way that’s productive. Robin lets him choose violence. Robin lets him pick fights that matter. Robin lets him let the anger and the violent side of him be a good thing instead of something that hinders him and something people find to be annoying and a nuisance. Robin has given him so fucking much including that outlet and he can’t lose it. And he just gets so fucking mad when he thinks about it. He’s mad about it being taken away and mad at Bruce and a little mad at you for getting to use his outlet as your own, even when he knows that’s not fair.

It’s the anger that always got the best of him. Not the violence.

“Where’s your head, Jay?” You ask, looking over your shoulder from the targets as Jason sits on the floor behind you.

Jason snaps away from his thoughts, looking over to you. “What?” He furrows his brows up at you.

“You’re quiet and you’re never quiet unless something is bothering you.”

It’s only been two weeks but you know him better than anyone. It’s been rough for him not having Robin. He wasn’t Robin, technically, in San Francisco. He wasn’t supposed to be anyway. He was supposed to be taking a break but that didn’t seem to bother him as much as it does now. You’re not entirely sure what the difference is this time but whatever it is, you’ve got this feeling that there’s something more going on. Something’s poking at his head.

Jason shakes his head. “Want to get back out there.” Jason scoffs.

You nod. “Yeah…” You suck in a breath, looking at your target full of knives before you move to sit in front of him. You match his position, stretching your legs out right beside his with your hands on the floor behind you to hold your weight. “You sure it doesn’t bug you I go out?” You ask.

Of course, it bothers him. That’s his thing. But, it’s yours, too. Maybe it wouldn’t sting as much if you weren’t going out with Bruce. But, there’s nothing he can do about it and it would be wrong for him to even try. So, he bites his tongue about it.

“It’s fine, it’s your thing, too.”

You shake your head. “Yeah, but if it bothers you, I can wait until you get Robin back or I can just go out on my own.” You offer.

The first night Jason was benched, Bruce asked if you’d still join I’m for patrol. Jason assured you it was fine. So, you went and you talked later about it. He swore up and down it would be fine. You like to go out on patrol. You like to help people and who is he to try and take that away from you? You’d never do that to him.

“You think Bruce will be okay with that? You going out on your own?” Jason quips.

You grin before you let out a laugh. “Well, probably not anymore.”

Jason furrows his brows, his eyes scanning over your face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You bounce around how to tell him about your conversation with Bruce earlier without including the stuff about him. It’s hard because on the one hand, you respect Bruce but on the other, he can be a little insufferable. And Jason looks up to him for reasons you don’t really think you’ll entirely understand. It’s not your place to speak poorly of him to Jason. So, you tell him but you hope he doesn’t ask what sparked the conversation in the first place.

“We, uh, we had a moral disagreement today.” You chew the inside of your cheek as you raise your brows.

“Ah,” Jason nods his head. “That why you don’t wanna go out tonight?” The moral disagreement doesn’t surprise him. He knows how you feel about all of it but he is a little surprised you even brought up to Bruce.

“Amongst a few other things but yeah. I think he might think I’ll kill people now.” You roll your eyes.

Jason lets out a snort. “What the hell did you even say to make him think that?” Jason shakes his head. “Wait, let me guess.”

“I’m listening.” You gesture a hand for him to continue.

Jason clears his throat. “You should kill the Joker. He’s a piece of shit maniac clown who kills people for fun. He should be dead.” Jason grins at you. “Sound about right?”

“Shut the fuck up.” You groan through a laugh as you tilt your head back. “No.” You shake your head at him. “I said he was a homicidal, psychotic, sadist.” You state. “And that he should die, yes.” You mutter softly while Jason lets out a booming laugh.

He is certain you’ll never let it go which he doesn’t blame you for. He gets it. He doesn’t like his dad but a part of him still wanted to go after Two-Face. Dick went after Zucco. Parents are killed and their kids want to take revenge. But, he also knows you and he doesn’t think you’d ever actually try to kill anyone, but especially the Joker. You have more self-preservation than that.

“And he said something about we don’t cross that line or whatever?”

“Yep.” Your eyes widen as you nod your head. “Him and Dick think it’s ridiculous as if Dick didn’t feel that same way, ya know? But it’s the Joker. So, uh, I might have said his death is inevitable.” You scrunch your nose and maybe that was the wrong choice of words.

Jason eyes you carefully and there is something going on with you, too. It’s one thing to have the moral disagreement with Bruce but to actually say anyone’s death in inevitable seems a little off. Jason’s so wrapped in his own anger, he’s started to wonder if he’s missing anything with you.

“Okay seriously, what the fuck is going on?” Jason nudges your leg with his.

“Nothing. I don’t think I really meant it or anything but I kind of wonder if Bruce thinks I’m serious and thinks I’m like a ticking time bomb or something.” You roll your eyes.

“Did he take the shit from you? The suit or anything?” Jason questions and he is getting increasingly more curious what even started that whole conversation and got you mad enough to say anything to Bruce.

“No. Why?”

“Then he doesn’t think you’re gonna out and kill people.” Jason chuckles. “He’d take it away and send you to Leslie if he thought you were serious.”

“Oh, well that’s a relief.” You chuckle softly. “Still don’t wanna go out tonight though.” You shake your head.

Jason pulls his legs to his chest, resting his forearms over his knees. “What started the whole conversation anyway? Did something happen?”

You pause and you hate lying to him. It’s the one thing you really don’t do with him. But, telling him why Bruce even talked to you, that just doesn’t seem fair. You worry he might take Bruce’s concern the wrong way. Maybe it’ll send him spiraling even further. Maybe it’s best if you just keep that to yourself.

“Nothing.” You shake your head. “It’s nothing, really.” You assure him before you suck in a breath. “Seriously though, if you have a problem with me going out, you can tell me.”

The switch back the topic at hand does not go unnoticed and that’s also uncharacteristic of you lately. You tell him everything that bothers you and what leads to it bothering you.

“I said it’s fine.” Jason states. “If something’s going on with you, you’d tell me, right?” Jason questions.

You nod your head. “Of course. Nothing’s, uh, nothing’s going on. You need to stop worrying.” You offer him a cheeky grin and he knows you’re lying. “Look, Jay, if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t stand a chance out there. I know it’s hard being benched and I don’t wanna make it harder for you.”

“You said yourself, you like going out there.” Jason bites his tongue.

“Yeah, but if it weren’t for you, I’d never stand a chance. I know it’s hard for you to be benched and I go out. I don’t wanna make it harder for you.”

He knows you’re lying but he can’t figure out why you would lie to him about something like that. It doesn’t seem important or serious enough to need a lie. Maybe a part of him is even hurt you won’t tell him. But, he knows it’s not fair to push because you don’t push him when he’s adamant about not tellin you. He hopes you’ll tell him later when it’s not so fresh.

Jason scoots closer to you, resting a hand on your thigh. “I’m fine, alright? Go out kick and some ass, with or without Bruce.” Jason grins at you. “Stop worrying so much.”

“I’ll always worry, I love you.” You smile wildly at him.

“Yeah, I love you, too.” Jason chuckles softly. “I'm fine, I’ll be back out there in no time.”

“Good, miss you out there with me.”

“I got you, babe.” Jason presses a kiss to your lips. “Spar again, then dinner?”

“Yeah, okay.”

The next day, Jason and you head off the coffee shop to meet up with Molly. It’s colder than it has been. The air is crisp as you walk inside, hands in your jackets. It seems to fit the mood. Your hearts are heavy in your chests, matching your sleep-deprived eyes. Last night was bad.

And Molly is sat at your usual table with a smile.

You think this is good. Maybe hanging out with Molly, the three of you will be a good distraction for him. It’s been only been two weeks, but you know he’s already going stir-crazy. The more you think about it, you're surprised it took him three months in San Francisco to finally break the rules and go out.

“Hey.” You chime.

“Sorry, we’re late, Molly.” Jason takes his jacket off, throwing it over the back of his chair before he sits beside you.

“It’s cool, I ordered for you guys.” Molly states with ease, barely looking up from her laptop. When she does, she has a look at the two of you, Jason specifically. She glances to you before going back to Jason.

He looks more tired than usual lately. But today, he looks exhausted. The bags under his eyes are thick and his grin seems lazier than usual. And she knows you've been more tired lately, too. When you hang out, you nod off and completely space out mid-conversation. You look extra tired today as you lean your head on Jason’s shoulder.

“You look…tired. Are you sleeping?” Molly keeps her eyes on Jason.

You glance to Jason with a heavy heart, last night was rough. He woke up screaming at the top of his lungs. He got you in the face with his elbow. He sputtered apology after apology, nearly throwing himself into a guilt-ridden panic attack over it. It was fine, it was an accident. He was having a nightmare.

You eventually got him to calm down and fall back asleep but that only lasted about two hours before he woke up screaming again. This went on all night. It was bad. No, he’s not sleeping.

“Don’t worry so much.” Jason brushes it off with a smile.

It’s one thing for you to know but he doesn’t want Molly to know even if it’s written on his face that he isn’t sleeping. He still feels guilty and tired and annoyed and angry and frustrated. He swears taking Robin away has made the nightmare worse. Everything feels worse.

“We just had a late movie night.” You state.

“And what about you? You look tired, too.”

“I’m sleeping fine. Jason’s right, don’t worry so much.” You lift your head from Jason’s shoulder.

“What’re you working on?” Jason changes the subject as you lean forward, fully engaging with the topic change.

Molly let’s it rest. It seems weird but it’s the two to you. It’s always a little weird. Your sleep schedules are a mess anyway.

Molly turns the laptop around so Jason and you can see. The screen has a large picture, a missing person's flyer. The sidebar contains others with other missing kids.

“Diego from the shelter went missing.” Molly states, her voice annoyed “Rumor is, The Joker’s got a dude on the streets taking in strays. Diego’s poor and brown so you know the cops don’t give a shit.” Molly shakes her head with a scoff, taking the laptop back.

You feel your blood boiling. That’s the shit you want to do. You want to target those terrible people who are bringing in kids. Kids are innocent. The three of you at this very table were once innocent and you should have been able to stay that way. It was ripped from you and you never want another kid to deal with any of that. That dickhead, has got to fucking go. And who the hell works with the Joker anyway?

“Batman will take care of him.” Jason states, crossing his arms on the table as he leans forward slightly.

You snap your attention at him, narrowing your eyes. “Right.” You nod your head, getting a confused look from Jason.

“Batman protects rich people.” Molly closes the laptop, resting it on the seat beside her. “Be careful, Jason, living in that fake house got you slipping.” Molly crosses her arms. “Should’ve stayed in San Francisco.” There’s a slight bite to Molly’s words.

“Fuck Sam Fransciso.” Jason states. “That whole thing was a mistake. Gotham’s where I need to be.”

“You’ve been different since you’ve been back.” Molly leans forward, she glances to you who raise a brow in confusion

Jason leans back in his seat, brows knitting together. “Different how?”

“I don’t know. Like something happened over it here.” Molly looks to you.

“Nothing happened.” Jason brushes it off coolly. “I was bored, so I left.” You think that’s one way to put it.

“It was boring as shit there. It was nice, but it’s not Gotham.” You back Jason up. This whole thing would be easier if Molly knew the truth. You want to know how everyone can keep up with all the lies.

“Okay.” Molly lets out a breath, not believing either of you. Something definitely happened over there. “Look, if you don’t want to talk about it—“

Jason leans forward, not wanting to deal with the integration. “Where’s this guy who’s picking up the street kids?” There’s a grin that tugs on his lips and you know he’s about to go track the guy down. And you for one, are completely on board.

Molly looks to you who now also looks extremely engaged. She has a bad feeling but she does know. “I heard he’s hanging near a shelter on Dunsmuir.”

“Show us.” Jason states.

He’s not Robin but he still has the same abilities without the suit. He is itching to be out there doing something and Molly has a point. Bruce does look out for the rich. Kids like Diego can get left behind. This is a chance for him to do something. To prove to himself he can do it, even without the Robin suit. He can deal with a lowlife picking up street kids. He could do it in his sleep.

“Yeah, take us.” You match the grin Jason has and Molly finds the whole thing a bit unsettling.

Molly lets out a scoff as she deadpans. “Right. Cause you’re cops now.”

“I’m serious.” Jason urges. “Let’s just go see if he’s there.” Jason's grin is wild and dangerous as he looks to you.

“Come on, let’s go.” You jump in. “It won’t be so bad or anything. Especially if he’s recruiting kids.”

You're worried about Jason but you’ll be together. He’s one lowlife working for the Joker. That’s easy. Jason can just threaten him, get a picture, call it good. Neither of you can sit by and let him do this. Plus, you think Jason might need the pick-me-up.

“And then what?” Molly can’t believe the two of you. You are both completely insane.

“Take some photos. Show them to the cops. It’s worth trying.” Jason states and he’s so convincing.

“It’s better than sitting here talking about it.” You offer. “It’ll be quick anyway.”

Molly glances between the two of you and she can’t help but find some part of this amusing, you share a similar grin. Ones that got her into trouble, ones she knows means you’re both up to no good. Ones she knows she’ll regret listening to. And she knows it’s such a bad idea. You aren’t cops. You have no business finding this guy. But, she knows Diego stands no chance if you don’t at least try.

“Fine.” Molly agrees reluctantly.

You and Jason share a triumphant grin between the two of you. Jason swears this won’t be like Deathstroke. He’ll be on better alert in case there is a team this time and he knows you will, too. You’re going to find a lowlife, not a supervillain. And besides, with Molly there, him and you won’t do anything too reckless to make sure she doesn’t get caught in the crossfire. This will be fine.

The three of you make the walk toward the shelter. Small flurries fall from the sky on your walk. You look around at the snow with a soft smile. You haven’t seen snow in a year and maybe a small part of you missed it. Maybe it feels like home in a weird way.

“How’s Sheila?” You ask, walking between the two of them, your right hand tangled with Jason’s.

“Yeah, no.” Molly scoffs. “She was the wrong one. Might even date boys again.” Molly states.

You let out a laugh. “Seriously that bad? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You're going through some shit.” Molly shrugs. You and Jason have asked about her and Sheila but Molly is the observant friend. The two of you always seem like you have real shit going on. She didn’t want to bother either of you with her relationship problems when, for once, you and Jason seem happy in one. “Broke up yesterday, you didn’t miss much besides screaming and her throwing things.”

“That’s also a lovely breakup.” You give a large nod with the roll of your eyes. You never cared much for Sheila. Sheila was the jealous type.

“Yeah.” Molly scoffs. “It’s cool though.” Molly shrugs.

“Yeah, you deserve someone better anyway. Didn’t she lose her shit on you for being home like five minutes late?” Jason asks, glancing over to her.

“That should have been one of my red flags.” Molly lets out a dry laugh.

“Yeah, maybe.” You agree.

The three of you reach an alley where you see an older man sitting on the hood of his car with a girl standing in front of him who looks way too young to be around him. She has a bottle in a brown paper bag and he looks like he’s a little too friendly with her. You can’t help the way your hand squeezes Jason's as you feel the anger start to bubble in the pit of your stomach. Jason glances to you, squeezing back.

“Over there.” Molly states. “Gotta be him.”

Jason lets go of your hand and pulls out his phone, taking a picture and using the software on his phone to do a check on him. The software runs facial recognition through the system, pulling up his extensive rap sheet. You peek over at the screen, making out a few of the charges and this is the shit that pisses you off.

Why do they keep letting him out? He is very clearly a danger to the public and yet he gets to roam around free, hurting more kids. Now, he gets to work with the damn Joker of all people. He’s got to go.

“Got him?” Molly asks.

“Hold on.” Jason says as it finishes loading. “Name’s Pete Hawkins. Piece of shit’s been in and out of Blackgate. Hooked up with the Joker last year.” Jason explains.

“Another piece of shit they refuse to keep locked up because they don’t actually give a fuck about the general public.” You let out a bitter scoff, stuffing your hands in your pockets.

“How do you know that?” Molly asks, looking between the two of you.

“Told you. I’m still me.” Jason smiles cheekily at her.

“Right. That’s one of those things that sounds real cool, but doesn’t actually mean anything.”

“Means he’s got it covered and he’s good at it.” You smile softly with the shrug of your shoulders.

Jason nudges you with his shoulder. “Let’s go introduce ourselves.” Jason suggests and you knew this was gonna happen. “Just a conversation. That’s all, come on.” Jason takes a step forward as Molly looks to you for help.

“It’ll be fine,” You step forward with Jason. “We’re just gonna talk and that’ll be it. Don’t worry.” You offer a soft smile and you’ve been here before.

You're confident, similar to Jason, this won’t be Deathstroke. This isn’t Dr. Light. This is just some guy. This is your home. This is your city. It won’t be like last time. You swear it won’t be and it can’t be because you have Molly with you. You swear it but you feel the fear creep into your stomach anyway.

The three of you make your way down the alley until you reach this guy. The closer you get, you can hear some of the conversation. He gave her alcohol. And he compliments her smile and tells her he can introduce her to someone that can make her smile. You nearly gag. He doesn’t deserve to be here.

“It never works out like that.” Jason states as the three of you stand in front of them.

“Yeah, it’s all sweet talk until you’re in too deep then it’s anything but sweet.” You add in, your hands warm in your pockets.

There’s a silence that consumes all of you for a few seconds. The man eyes the three of you, not quite confused but annoyed. The girl though, she looks uneasy. She looked uneasy before you approached anyway. And this guy is just gonna let her feel that way. He was going to use it against her.

“Give us a second.” Pete states to the girl. “Keep the drink.” The girl nods her head and walks away, glancing back at all of you on her way down the alley. “We have a problem?” He asks.

“A little young for you isn’t she, hoss?” Jason questions.

Jason also can't stand people like this guy. He was a kid once. He remembers it all. No one was there to protect him and he can protect himself but what about the other kids? That's supposed to be the point of Batman and Robin. To protect those who can't protect themselves. He doesn't need the suit to threaten this guy and try to find out where, at least, Diego is.

“She’s old enough to make her own choices,” He states back.

“Yeah? And exactly how old is old enough then?” You quip back. “Cause, uh, she didn’t look old enough.”

“Do I know you?” He questions, the annoyance soaking his words.

“I’m fuck,” Jason starts. “She's off.” Jason gestures to you. “We hate clowns.”

“Clowns?” Pete asks but there’s a seriousness in his voice.

“You know the type.” You state.

Molly watches the two of you and she’s getting the idea you’ve done this before. That seems a little weird and somehow not even close to surprising. But, she can’t figure out why you would do this? In your free time. Do you and Jason just go around Gotham interrogating people?

“Maybe you ran across a kid?” Jason asks. “Diego.”

“Martinez.” Molly finishes.

Pete shifts just slightly and Jason takes that opportunity to close the distance between them, getting in his face. You watch the two of them carefully, waiting for any quick movements, waiting for the throbbing to start, so you move to stand in front of Molly. You knew it was never going to be just talking and that’s fine with you. That girl was lucky you showed up and he should know he can’t get away with what he’s doing and what he wants to do.

“You know him?” Jason asks.

“You must have me confused with someone else.” Pete says but there’s almost a mocking tone in his voice. Jason stares him down and it goes eerily silent for a few seconds. Pete doesn’t like the look and you're getting the feeling this is going to go south.“You haven’t done enough time to look at me like that.”

“You have no idea who I am.” Jason's voice is low and unwavering, despite the fear pushing at his chest and vibrating his blood like a relentless and agonizing earthquake.

Molly gets the idea this going to turn violent. He’s done time and she knows Jason can fight but maybe not him. So, she moves past you and walks forward, touching Jason’s arm to grab his attention.

“Jason, let’s get out of here.” Molly says as Jason looks at her and as soon he does, a gun cocks.

It’s fast, happening in just a second. The gun is cocked as Jason looks back to Pete who puts the gun right under his chin. He was just waiting for his opportunity. You swear under your breath because for some reason, you thought he’d be fine. He knows better.

“Where’s your swag, cowboy?” Pete asks as you quickly move to Molly, yanking her back and behind you.

Jason freezes, flashes of Deathstroke cross his eyes. The beatings, the pain in his leg is agonizing. It throbs and if he didn’t know better, he’d swear it were bleeding right here, right now. He falls again and again and again. Everything that happened flashes his eyes and he can’t breathe and he can’t move. Why can’t he move? He has no time to react before Pete smacks him across the face with the gun, sending Jason to the ground.

“Jason!” Molly screams, trying to push you to the side.

“You shut your mouth, bitch!” Pete threatens as he aims the gun at her, you keep her blocked, locking eyes with Pete with your mouth in a hard line.

Jason tries to get up but Pete kicks him in the face. Jason starts coughing up blood onto the ground. He’s weak. Why is he weak? He’s fought men three times the size with ease. But Pete kicks him and kicks him and kicks him over and over. In the stomach and the side, over and over again. Jason tries to back away but he’s on the ground and useless.

He was never like this. He was never afraid of everything. It never caused him harm before. If anything, fear managed to protect him. It has always kept him on high alert. It made sure he could be physically and emotionally safe from anyone that would hurt him. But, now, all it's doing is getting him beaten up. It's traumatizing reliving the same damn fear every single day. He's so damn tired of it. He's so sick of being weak. And scared.

Jason rolls on his side where Pete kicks him again and you've had enough. You tried to give Jason a little bit of time to get it together, hoping he'd be able to. But, you can't stand by and hope anymore. You push Molly to the side and move towards Pete.

“Hey, dickhead!” You get his attention, taking a solid swing to his face and then another. “You wanna fucking fight, let’s fucking go.” You have a wild look in your eyes as he points the gun at you, Molly rushing to check on Jason. “Aw, cute! You think I’m scared?” You taunt him, the throbbing in your head intensifies and you move out of the way just as he fires the gun. “Missed me, fuckface.”

You swore you'd never be unprepared again and you pull out a knife from your belt hidden under your coat. In a swift motion, you nail him in the leg. He yells out and shoots again, you already out of the way by the time he fires.

Jason hears the gunshots through the ringing of his ears and he'll never forgive himself if you get shot because he couldn't even get a single punch in. You shouldn't be taking him on, by yourself, just because he couldn't. Because he started it. You're here again. Jason's idea. You in the middle of it.

“What the fuck.” Pete grits his teeth as he pulls the knife out.

“I got more if that’s not enough for you.” You pull out another knife, tossing it between your fingers. “Bet I can nail your jugular in a single shot. Wanna find out?” You question. “If your gun is fully loaded, you have fourteen more shots. So, we can go fourteen more rounds if you want and then I can hit your jugular. I do love target practice.”

Pete grits his teeth, holding the wound and he’s missed two shots already. Whatever you have going on, isn't worth his time right now.

“I’ll see you around.” Pete threatens you before he walks off.

You let out a breath of relief as you rush over to the two on the ground. Jason is still coughing and trying to gain his breath. Molly’s hand is on his shoulder. You can see the bloody gash near his temple and he should have had this. Maybe it’s worse than even you thought it was.

You and Molly help him to his feet, Jason brushing the both of you off. He struggles to gain his footing, the pain in his leg is as bad as it was when Deathstroke cut out the tracker. His entire body is aching with every breath. He’s embarrassed and pissed.

“Look, you’re hurt, we need to get you to a hospital—“ Molly starts once Jason is on his feet.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” Jason says, keeping his voice level. It’s not her fault.

“Jay.” You state.

He can't. He can't do it and he doesn't want to.

“Just tell me what I can to help—“ Molly starts.

“Get the fuck away from me, okay?” Jason screams, gesturing his arm in the other direction.

He doesn’t want help. He’s tired of people offering to help. He doesn’t fucking want it. It doesn’t fucking help. Nothing is helping. It’s been months and he’s still paralyzed with fear. Every single time, it seems to be getting better, it just gets worse. He relives it over and over and over. It’s drowning him even when he knows how to swim.

Molly stands for a second, her heart aching being yelled at. Jason doesn’t yell at her. Jason never yells at her. Tears brim in her eyes. She’s just worried about him. He just had a gun pulled at him and got the shit beat out of him. It was terrifying.

You let out a breath and you can tell Molly’s never seen him like this. Of course, she hasn't because she doesn't know. She doesn't know about Robin or Deathstroke. It's one of those times you wish desperately that she did because she'd understand. But, she doesn't and she's going to be the one left confused and hurt.

“It’s okay.” You turn to Molly walking her towards the alley. “It’s fine, okay? I got him.” You nod your head with a weak smile

Molly stares at you in disbelief. You can’t be serious because you were just shot at. How is this fucking fine? Neither of you are fine and Molly is sick of you both trying to fool yourselves and her.

“What the hell was that? With you? He almost shot you!” Molly panics, looking you over just to make sure he missed.

“I’ve been shot at before, it’s fine. Just something I picked up.” Your voice shakes and that’s new.

Your hands are vibrating at your sides and you're realizing, it’s getting a little hard to breathe. But it’s the realization that you have been shot at before. You were left for dead, twice. It all comes back in a wave but you have to push through it. Molly can’t know and Jason needs you. You need to check on him. You can’t panic over it. It happened months ago. And you weren’t the one tortured and kidnapped by CADMUS. It’s not your trauma to process.

“You were what!?”

“Molly, it’s fine. He’ll be fine. Just go home.” You keep your voice calm and pleading.

“He’s hurt.” Molly urges with tears in her eyes.

“He’s fine, okay? I’ll look him over—“

“You’re not a doctor.” Molly grits her teeth.

“I know. I’ll get him to go, okay? Just, head home and I’ll call you. It’s fine. I promise.” You pull her in for a hug before walking back off to Jason who’s pacing and fuming.

Molly pauses for a second before she decides to listen. Jason and you aren’t gonna listen to her anyway.

“You, too!” Jason screams at you.

He doesn’t want your help either. He doesn’t deserve it. The cruel voices are back, louder than ever and echoing through the deepest parts of his chest. They scream and cackle, telling him over and over that he's not good enough. Anyone could have beaten that guy up. Anyone could have taken him and anyone would know he had a gun. Of course, he had a gun. But, Jason's terrified of everything. He's too scared. He's weak and useless and hopeless.

“No!” You yell back. “I’m not fucking leaving you here like this.”

“Get away!” Jason’s voice cracks as he stands in front of you.

“No! Molly’s right. You’re hurt. We need to get back.” You urge him as you reach for his shoulders.

He can't go back. Bruce is going to be home and he's going to have questions. What if this gets him benched permanently? What if this proves Bruce right? What if Bruce gives up on him entirely?

“No fuck that shit!” Jason brushes you off and he’s so fucking sick of this shit. “Leave me alone!”

“Jason.” You grit your teeth. “What the hell is going on?” You move forward anyway and cup his face, minding the blood.

“Just leave me alone, please.” Jason pleads with you as a lump grows in his throat. He’s so fucking sick of this. He’s so exhausted from feeling this way.

“You know I won’t, Jay.” Your eyes soften as your heart breaks for him.

Jason takes your hands in his. “You fucking should. I’m fucked up. You deserve better anyway. Go the fuck home.”

He’s pushing. Your heart breaks and you're gonna keep fighting. You have a lot of regrets and one of those is not fighting for him sooner. You always should have. You're not gonna repeat that regret. So, you're gonna fight and if he wants to push, he’ll have to try a lot harder than that.

“Jason, don’t do this.” You beg him. “Come home with me, please.”

He shakes his head and he can’t. He’ll pay for it later. He knows he will. He’s gonna push as hard as he possibly can to get you away from him. He doesn’t want you near him. He’s fucked up. He’s useless and weak and a mess. You don’t deserve him. He doesn’t want you coming to his rescue. It’s not your job and it never should be. Jason has always been able to take care of himself alone. This is no different. He doesn’t want your damn help. He doesn’t want it. It’s embarrassing. Humiliating. He loves you but he's in so much pain right now he has to do the one thing he’s always been best at. Pushing.

He’ll regret it.

“No.” Jason huffs. “I’m not going fucking home!” He yells. “Get the fuck out of here. I don’t need you bailing me out! I could have fucking handled it!”

“Why are you doing this?” You ask, your voice cracking. You tug your sleeves down, Jason catching the action.

You haven’t done that in a month around him. He crumbles with the act. He knows pushing hurts you and that’s not fair just because he’s hurt. You don’t deserve it and maybe he’s right. Maybe you really do deserve better. He can’t take it back. He didn’t mean to hurt you. Not on purpose. He can’t take it back and he can’t deal with it all. He can’t deal with more guilt and pain and disappointment.

“Just leave me the fuck alone, alright?” Jason scoffs and he walks past you, knowing you’ll never leave. You don’t have it in you to walk away. So, he does.

He knows you’ll get him to break if he stays. You've always been good at getting him to calm down and be reasonable. But that’s not what he wants to be right now. He almost wants to be angry about it. He just wants to be alone, away from every person he’s disappointed and that includes you.

You watch him walk away as tears brim your eyes. You were making progress and now you’re back here. What is so different than before? You've had to bail him out before this and it wasn’t this bad. He didn’t push like this. And you realize the difference is Robin, the difference is always Robin.

At least when he was Robin, he had that to fall back on. He could chalk up his freezing to still being able to be Robin later. He’d have a second shot at it. He’d get a third shot. He was still Robin but Bruce benched him and now he’s getting his ass kicked by some nobody trafficking kids to the Joker. He has nothing left to fall back on. Every horrible thought he ever had about himself has become true today. He is useless. He is weak. He is not good enough. And you hate that he even feels that way.

But you can’t follow him because then you’ll just fight and that’s not something you want to do. He doesn’t need to feel worse over an argument with you. So, you let him walk away and you make your way down the alley.

You head back to the cafe where your bike is parked and you decide to hang out for half an hour, hoping Jason will come back. You can go back to the manor together and make sure he’s actually okay but as the time ticks by, there’s no sign of him and he’s not answering his phone. Jason is really good at pushing.

Jason looks at his phone and it's cold. It's snowing. You should just go home but he knows you're definitely still waiting for him. But, he's not even close to being ready to talk or cool down.

Jason: go home be back later I’m fine

Jason looks at his phone, watching the bubble show up. He’s still so angry with himself for all of it. He can’t even look you in the eyes right now. He doesn’t want to do anything. He just wants to be alone. But you worry. It’s been half an hour and at the very least, he can text you that he’s fine.

Y/n 😍: I don’t want to go back without you

Jason’s heart sinks as he reads the text. He hesitates over the keyboard. He almost types out “too bad” but he can't bring himself to type it out. It'll be even worse if it does.

Jason: you have to get ready for patrol tonight anyway stop worrying

Jason shuts his phone off as soon as the text sends. He simply can't. He knows he just fucked up your whole relationship. It’s been two weeks and he just fucked it all up. He’s not good enough anyway. It doesn’t matter. And yet it breaks his heart in two.

All he wants is to be Robin and be good enough again. He doesn't want to be so tired anymore. He's tired of it all. The nightmares and shaking hands. He's tired of the leg pain and the headaches and the nausea and racing heartbeat that makes him feel like he's going to pass out. He's tired of disappointing everyone and letting them down and not being good enough. He's tired of being weak.

You let out a sigh, texting him back saying you don't have to go but the read receipt doesn't come through. You want to give him some more time to come around before you head back. So, you get on your bike and decide to head to Excellent Gotham. You always like it there anyway and it’ll be warm. And Jason knows that. If he wants to come around, he'll know where to find you.

You open the take-out container of your food once you're seated at your favorite table against the back wall. You try to eat while you scroll on your phone. Gar posted a new picture of him with Conner and Krypto at a park. Dick and Kory are seated at a picnic table behind them. A smile tugs at your lips as you double-tap the picture and pull up the comments.

You: @dickgrayson @koriandr look real cozy in the background 👀

You send the comment, mostly to harass Dick. You can’t do it in person, but you can do it through social media. It is something that can cheer you up usually. And you smile softly, remembering when Kory told you and Gar how Donna was the one that showed her how to work Instagram and helped her set up her account. You miss all of them.

@dickgrayson: we were talking?

You: wE wErE tAlKiNg 🥴

@garlogan: they’re always “talking”

You:“talking” is the first stage @dickgrayson “don’t do anything…graphic”

@garlogan: 😂🤮

@dickgrayson: NOT FUNNY

@garlogan: yes it is

You: you said it first 😂 sorry @koriandr ily 💕

You laugh softly to yourself. You'll never miss an opportunity to bug him. You scroll through a few more photos until your attention is pulled from your phone when someone sits down in front of you.

“Hey.” Tim chimes. “You here alone?”

“Uh…yeah.” You shake your head. “Why?”

Every time you come here and Tim is here, you have a conversation about anything, really. This isn’t too weird of an exchange but you find it odd anyway for him to ask.

“You never come here alone anymore. Jason and Molly are always with you.” Tim gestures with his hand. “Everything okay?”

Tim is observant. He notices and remembers everything about everything and everybody. Before you left, you’d come in alone but since you started showing up again, you're always with Molly or Jason. Tim hasn’t seen you alone at all since. He notices you tugging your sleeves down when you order and the fact you always sit with your back up against a wall, looking out over the entire restaurant, something he doesn’t ever remember you doing. You’ve had enough conversations over the years that he considers you friends, friends enough to ask anyway.

“All good.” You shrug your shoulders, brushing it off.

Tim sighs. “My dad said you seemed down.” It’s not a lie. Mr. Drake did say that but Tim noticed anyway.

You laugh softly, nodding your head. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“You sure? You can tell me if you want. I know we don’t know each other that well, but might help. Then I don’t have to run a delivery.” Tim chuckles.

He’s always so warm. You don’t think you've ever seen Tim seem down, annoyed but not down. He’s always excited to talk about whatever new thing has been picking at his mind. He was one of the people that told you he suspected there was a new Robin. Batman and the crazy maniacs of Gotham were a topic of discussion on occasion. And boy could he ramble about it. But, you always felt like you could trust him.

He doesn’t really know Jason. He kind of knows Molly but it was you and Tim that had the most conversation. He doesn’t know everything. He doesn’t know what happened to you or where you were and what happened. He doesn’t know any of it. And you find that a bit comforting. You trust him enough to at least talk a little bit because having to not tell anyone anything because everyone you know knows Jason is really difficult sometimes.

“Just, uh, some shit is going on and I, uh, can’t tell anyone about most of it.” You shake your head. “Me and Jason got into a fight and uh, I don’t know. He pushes sometimes. It’s fine, ya know? I get it but it, uh, it sucks anyway.” You chew the inside of your cheek.

Tim furrows his brows. “So, he gets mad and pushes you away? That’s not fair to you.” He lazily points a finger at you.

“Yeah, but he has shit going on.” You defend.

“That’s not an excuse.” Tim scoffs. “He seems cool. I don’t know him. I’m just saying, no one deserves to be pushed just because someone’s going through shit.”

“Well, he’s not an asshole to me. And I do the same shit so, ya know?”

“Well, I still think he shouldn’t do it." Tim states casually. "Why’s he do it anyway?“ Tim asks and you raise a brow at him. "I'm just saying, you're together so why's he still pushing you away?"

“I’m so serious, if you ever bring this up, I’ll kill you.” You threaten softly and Tim nods, gesturing for you to contiue. “Everyone gives up on him and I just…don’t? I’m like the only person who hasn’t and I’m not going to. I don’t even know why people do. He’s an ass sometimes and he’s all bark and bite. But, I don’t get it anyway, right? Because when you give a fuck about someone you don’t just give up cause shit gets hard. Or they fuck up. But it’s like he’s so damn used to it that when I simply don’t give up, he freaks out a little more when shit, like today, happens.” You state, keeping it a bit vague on the actual events.

Tim nods his head and he agrees. He believes in second chances. He doesn’t think people should just give up on people. He’s fucked up several times and his parents don’t give up on him. They were not happy about him dropping out but they’re not giving up on him. He doesn’t know what happened and he highly doubts you're gonna be less vague if he asks. But, he also knows some things you definitely don’t know he knows.

Tim knows. He knows Jason is Robin. Dick was Robin. Bruce is Batman. He knows you're Bluejay, a vigilante name the Gothamites have given you all because of your blue suit and you patrol with Batman. You do not talk about the irony in it. At least it's a little better than Acid Fingers. But, Tim is very observant. With a photographic memory.

Dick is one of two people in the world who can perform a specific flip and Robin 1.0 and Nightwing can also perform that trick which means Bruce Wayne is Batman. Jason was adopted by Bruce after Robin 1.0 left which means Jason has to be Robin 2.0, on top of the fact Tim remembers seeing videos and him and Robin 2.0 walk the same way. They share the same stride and confidence. And that’s how he figured out you're Bluejay.

The way you walk, how you hold yourself. You're living with Bruce Wayne, dating Jason Todd. It’s all pretty obvious to him in all fairness. So, he is kind of guessing whatever is going on has something to do with the vigilante life and that’s not something he can so much help with. But, he can try.

“Do you want my advice?” Tim asks.

“Sure?” You question.

“You said he pushes so, have you tried…letting him?”

“The point is that I don’t? So, I’m not like everyone else and I don't give up on people very much.”

“Yeah, but, you not letting him doesn’t work with whatever is going on, right?”

“I guess?”

“So, let him. And he’ll come back, right? Be there when he comes back. You said, it’s what he does. So, maybe you,” Tim gestures towards you as he leans back in his seat. “Being there all the time is suffocating him.” Tim states casually. “You could give him the space and when he comes around, be there like you normally would. Maybe he just needs the space, right?”

“I--” You pause and that’s kind of a good point you haven’t thought of. “I…yeah, actually that kind of makes sense. I just…worry about him. If you knew, you’d know why, ya know?”

“So, tell him you’ll give him space or whatever but he has to check in and tell you he’s fine so you’re not worried.”

You groan, putting your head on the table for a second before picking it back up again. “That’s actually a good idea. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“It’s easier from the outside sometimes.” Tim chuckles awkwardly.

“Thanks, Tim. I will try that.” You nod softly.

“You're welcome.” Tim smiles warmly. "So, you decided to just come here because you had a fight and wait for him to come around?"

“Oh, you really don’t want to work. Don’t you have like schoolwork to do or something?” You quip with a grin tugging at your lips.

“I dropped out.” Tim shifts in his seat slightly.

“Why? Aren’t you like a genius?”

Tim shrugs casually. “I mean not...”

“He does our books.” Mr. Drake calls from the counter making you laugh.

“Genius.” You state with a nod.

“Kind of.” Tim rolls his shoulders.

“I just, uh, I always liked it here. Your family is always here, and always felt real warm. And, uh, ya know? Been a while since I felt that so. Like, whole family dynamic thing.” You nod your head.

“Oh, well, in that case, you can run my deliveries. Really feel the warmth of a family then.” Tim nods twice with a toothy grin, glancing to his dad.

“No, I’m good.” You laugh. “That’s all you, Timmy.” You scrunch your nose. “Thanks, though, seriously.”

“Hey, we’re friends, right?” Tim shrugs casually.

“Yeah, I guess.” You shake your head. “Coming in here enough over the years, I guess so.” You smile softly. “Seriously, thank you. And also, I’m serious, don’t tell anyone. We don’t normally like when people know our shit.”

“I won’t tell anyone, don’t worry.” Tim chuckles.

“Well, I’m gonna head back to the manor. Give him space like you said. I’ll be back probably tomorrow.” You laugh as you get up.

“Oh, well, I’ll be here.” Tim states with wide eyes. “They won’t let me leave.” He whispers.

“So, go to school.” You mock him as Tim groans.

“Yeah, alright, be safe.” Tim chuckles.

“Yeah, too. All those delivers and such.” You offer him a thumbs-up before you head out of the restaurant.

The night goes by and you don’t go on patrol. You want to be here when Jason gets home and being out with Bruce just seems like it’ll make you more annoyed tonight. It’s his fault today happened anyway. So, you stay home and listen to Tim, giving Jason some space for the night.

Jason texts you here and there saying he’s still fine because he’s not throwing in the towel. The later the night gets, the more texts come through from him. He’s calmer as the night goes on and his anger is fading away. He apologizes a few more times and he wonders how he’s ever going to come back from what he said to you and Molly. Neither of you deserve it. You were just worried about him.

At some point, Jason stopped receiving texts from you and figured that was his cue to head back home. It’s two in the morning and he has to guess you fell asleep. He thinks it’s safe to go home and get to bed. He won’t have to talk about it when he gets home. He can just try to get at least some sleep.

When he gets home, Bruce is still out on patrol. The manor is completely quiet and he goes right to your room, just to check on you before he heads to his own bed. But, when he looks into your room, the bed is still made and you aren’t there. His heart plummets because he thinks he really blew it. He’s so sure you left. Maybe you're staying with Molly. Maybe you're just waiting for him to calm down before you break it off entirely. You're done and it’s all his fault.

Maybe you were only texting him back so you wouldn’t feel guilty if he did something stupid. He’s not sure, but he really thinks he messed things up with you this time.

Jason feels tears brim his eyes as he shuts the door. His head hangs as the lump grows further into his throat as he walks to his room. He did what he always does, push until someone gives up. He really, in the pit of his stomach, didn’t think you ever would. And he doesn’t even blame you. He just feels guilty and hurt for everything in the first place. He just keeps fucking it all up.

When he reaches the door of his room, his arm is weak as it creaks open but his attention snaps to the TV that’s on. There isn’t anything playing, it’s just the screensaver but it’s on and there’s an automatic shut off which means he didn’t leave it on. He looks in the opposite direction towards his bed where you're sleeping.

Jason sucks in a breath of relief at the sight of you. You didn’t give up. You didn’t leave. You waited for him in his room because you knew he would be avoiding talking and probably you when he got back if you were awake. And his heart swells. He doesn’t deserve you. But, he walks closer to the bed anyway and strips to his boxers before crawling into bed with you and wrapping his arms around you. He presses a kiss to your shoulder.

You hum from in front of him, your back pressed against his chest. “Jay?” Your voice is groggy as you tiredly look over your shoulder.

“Yeah.” Jason whispers softly. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’okay.” You smile softly, rolling around his arms to face him, your eyes barely open as you look up at him. The bruise from the day is hidden against the pillow and the low light of the bedroom. “Glad you’re home.”

“I’m so fucking sorry.” Jason states and you barely make out the guilt across his face.

“It’s okay, we’ll talk in the morning.” You snuggle against his chest. Truthfully, you're just glad he's home and he's safe. One bad day doesn't destroy everything you've built. “Not mad, just tired. Get some sleep, Jay. It’s just you and me.” You press a kiss to his chest, feeling Jason relax against you.

“I love you.” Jason mutters against the top of your head.

“I love you, too.” You smile softly against him.

Jason squeezes you softly against him and he doesn’t know why he’s still lucky to have you. His life is shit besides you and you pick him anyway. You should leave him and he knows you should. He was wrong for speaking to you that way and for pushing so damn hard. But you don’t. You're here anyway for reasons he’ll never understand. But he is immensely thankful you're still here. With him.

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Tag list: @fairyofshampoo // @italiana-20 // @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @mayfieldss // @ghostkingblake // @im-done-with-this-im-out // @velvetskies // @lilylovelyxo // @cryinghotmess // @yesimwriting // @vivian-555 // @stainedstardom // @baebeepeach // @legend-o-zelda // @harleycao // @somehow-lovable-trash // @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx // @deyja-the-duck // @jasontoddslover // @captainmarvels-blog // @totallynotkaibiased // @scarlovesyou // @whydoyoucare866 // @littlemeowmeow1000

109 notes View Post

whydoyoucare866

1 year ago

29 notes View Post

whydoyoucare866

1 year ago

please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please

167 notes View Post

whydoyoucare866

11 months ago

As requested, I have examined my fondness for terrible characters, and I have concluded that I like them because they're terrible and I'm not sorry.

12K notes View Post

whydoyoucare866

1 year ago

hey so i just watched never have i ever and i fell in love with ethan and i’m so sad that there are not many fics of him, so i decided I will add him to the list of characters i will write for

I’ve Been Writing For 3 Years Now, And Even If You Just Started I Just Wanted To Say You’re Doing

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