Tiredofthehumanlife

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It started with Jason. Damian had just rolled out of bed, headed for the kitchen, when Jason piped up from the breakfast table. 

 “Baby Bat.” He greeted. Already irritating, as Damian had made it incredibly clear he hated that nickname. Damian grunted, turning to face Jason. Jason turned his tablet around, showing an incredibly enlarged picture of Robin. Robin holding a woman tightly against him. If Damian didn’t experience it himself, he might think Robin was into this woman. She was staring up at him with wide eyes and holding on tightly to his upper arms. Damian furrowed his brows. That picture was out of context. Jason raised a brow. 

 “Is this true?” Jason asked. Damian reeled back. How dare he assume Damian would ever do that to you? Damian glared at him. 

 “Obviously not,” Damian stated. Jason nodded, flipping the tablet back towards himself. 

 “Just had to check,” Jason grumbled. Damian didn’t appreciate that. He shouldn’t have to check; he should know. Damian would never ever in a million lifetimes cheat. And especially not on you. The fact Jason was even insinuating he’d do such a thing, and had to check just to make sure it wasn’t true, made him sick to his stomach. 

 As the day went on, all he could think of was how that paparazzi purposely made him look like some scoundrel. And now his face was plastered all over Gotham as a freak who picked up victims of street crime. Foul. Then his dumbass brother dared to believe it? Was his character that questionable? The cheating itself was disgusting as it was, but to think Damian would hit on someone moments after a horrific, traumatizing event for them. He could hardly stomach it. He was starting to feel guilty over something he didn’t do because clearly some part of him seemed capable of it. Which part of him? 

 Then after his morning workout, he headed for his bedroom to get his extra clothes for his shower. In the process, he walked in on Tim going through his sketchbook while lounging across his bed. Tim looked up when he entered the room, giving him a knowing grin. 

 “Do you draw anything other than your partner?” Tim mocked. Damian lunged forward, yanking it from his hold. 

“Give me that,” Damian grumbled. He closed the book, pressing it to his stomach so Tim couldn’t take it from him. Tim hummed. He pressed his hands under his head, kicking back on Damian’s clean sheets. Damian glared at him. He moved towards his dresser, pausing when he saw Tim’s disgusting boots on his bed. Damian froze, feeling his heart stall. 

“Get out,” Damian muttered under his breath. Tim snorted. 

“Jeez, Damian, you’re a bit touchy over the drawings. They’re good. I just thought it was silly that was all you drew. Page after page, it's a bit pathetic.” Tim scoffed like Damian was the most dramatic person on the planet. Damian felt his anger seethe. He clenched his jaw, begging for the strength to keep himself moderately calm. 

“Get out,” Damian repeated, his tone harder and louder. Tim paused, looking up at Damian. He nodded, pulling himself off Damian’s bed. Tim ducked out into the hall. Damian took a deep breath, closing his eyes to try and focus. He felt his anger receding. He reached out and wiped away the dirt Tim caused on his sheets. He was able to get most of it off; if it had been mud, Damian would’ve had to hide himself from his weapons. For the sake of Tim. 

Damian settled onto the edge of his bed, peeling open his sketchbook. Your face stared at him as he swept through the pages, making sure Tim didn’t vandalize any of them. He froze when he saw a ripped page. The tear only went up halfway. The fuzzy edge of the paper slashed through your eye and down your cheek. It split through your smile. Your face was cut in a wavy line. It must’ve torn when he yanked it from Tim. He must’ve torn it. If he had been just a little more gentle when he took it from Tim, you would still be smiling at him perfectly. He felt tears clogging his throat and warming the back of his eyes. Damian frowned, sliding down onto his side. He pressed the sketch to his chest. He burrowed his face in his sheets as he cried. He hoped somehow when he looked back down at the sketch, your tear would be healed. 

His shower was slow, like his hands were weighed down by his bad attitude. Damian really just needed everyone to not speak to him all day. He scrubbed his hair with a towel once he was done. He pulled his clean clothes on and looked up into the mirror. His eyes were still puffy, but his cheeks were dry now. He really didn’t like that he’d have to walk around all day with the evidence that he had cried. He wondered how Jon wore eyeliner during those two odd years. Especially since he was such a crybaby. 

Damian swung open the bathroom door, carrying his wet towel. The second he stepped out of the bathroom, sweaty arms wrapped around his head. Damian was startled, coughing at the disgusting smell of Dick immediately after his run. Dick laughed as he pressed his armpit towards Damian’s face. Damian shot his hand out, knocking Dick in the stomach. Dick jumped back, clutching his stomach. 

“Dude, I was just playing,” Dick complained, looking Damian up and down. Damian glared at him. Of course Dick would do this. Just when he got out of the shower. He just washed his hair. And he was a disgusting pervert according to the news; Tim put his nasty shoes on his feet, and your face was torn. Dick stared at Damian in shocked confusion, his mouth hanging open. 

“You’re almost 40; stop acting like you’re fucking 14!” Damian shouted. Dick reeled back. 

“I’m 33. I was just joking around, jeez you’re sensitive today.” Sensitive? Like when Tim invaded his personal space and went through his private drawings? That’s sensitive? Jason walked up behind Dick, interested in the fight. If he had to restrain someone, he might. 

“You’re fucking disgusting.”  Damian snapped. Jason furrowed his brows. 

“Didn’t realize you knew those words,” Jason mumbled. Damian could throw Jason off a building. 

“I’m not a baby. Quit treating me like one.” Damian glared at Jason. Dick stared at Damian’s face, finally placing what looked different. 

“Whoa, everyone, settle. Have you been crying?” Dick asked, tilting his head in concern. Dick reached out, trying to pull Damian into a hug by his shoulders. Damian smacked Dick's hands away, storming down the stairs. He flung his wet towel at the nearest piece of furniture. He ignored Dick as he called out to him. He pulled his shoes on, snatched his keys, and left the house. As he reached his car’s handle, Bruce’s voice came from behind him. 

“Where are you going?” He asked. Damian didn’t bother looking behind him. 

“Out.” He grumbled before settling into the driver’s seat. He pulled out of the driveway and headed straight for your apartment. All he wanted to do was settle into your arms and pretend the day started with him wrapped in your bedsheets. 

It had started when you found your coffee empty. Which only starts your day on a bad foot. 

Then just as you were finally getting through your work, your coworker sent you an email. 

Robin is flirting with girls. I think he’s getting a girlfriend soon??? 

You opened the article they sent you, raising a brow. You stared at the picture they had plastered over the top of the article. Robin’s hands were pressing into this woman’s back as she clung onto him. They were staring into each other’s eyes, her mouth parted. It looked like love. Lust if you were being an ass about it. But the problem was you knew who was under the mask. 

 Despite you knowing there was no way Damian was cheating on you, the image of his hands pressing into her flashed in your mind. Every time you tried to calm yourself down, you thought about the woman’s eyes staring wide into his. It was growing into a severe case of jealousy. Why was he all over her last night, but today he hadn’t even messaged you? You didn’t want to think about it. You tried to push it away and focus on your work. Every time you thought you were safe, someone else had to bring it up. It was all people could think about talking about. Every mutter of Robin had you pushing down your anger and clenching your teeth. 

You finally settled down as you dropped into your car. The closer you got to your home, the less anger you felt. Just as you finally felt like you were in an okay mood, some douchebag in a raised truck pulled out right in front of you. You slammed on your brakes, making the car behind you honk. He blared his horn as he sped past you. What a fucking dick! What the hell is his problem? Just loud and wrong for what reason? It was your right of way. And that alone sent you straight back into your bad mood. 

The final straw was that as you were opening your front door, your sweater snagged on the handle. You didn’t notice until you were a step past it and heard a loud rip. You gasped, carefully pulling the fabric from the handle. You cradled it in your hands like a wounded bird, looking at the tear. It was totally ruined. It was a knit, which meant it was dead. That thread holding it together was ripped. The hole had doubled by the time you pulled it off. You flung it at the wall, feeling your anger burn harder. 

It’s ridiculous. Your coffee is empty, and it was probably Damian who used it last. He was all over some girl last night. He doesn’t message you at all. 

That asshole truck pulls out in front of you, and then your favorite sweater is ruined. You flopped backwards onto the couch, resting your hands against your stomach and staring at the ceiling. 

The door to your apartment opened, Damian stepping in. He glanced around the room for your face. You sat up on your elbow, looking at him over the edge of the couch. 

“Did you drink all my coffee?” You asked, irritation clear. Damian scoffed. 

“What?” 

“Well, this morning I went to drink coffee, and it was empty. And I’m thinking you used it last and put the empty box back like a dick.” You explained, your mouth curling into a snarl. Damian glared at you. 

“You’re just assuming it was me? What is your problem?” Damian snapped, slamming the door shut. You stood from the couch. 

“What’s your fucking problem? You're all over girls on your patrol? You’re plastered all over the news with you pressing her all up against you! What’s that about?” You hissed. Damian snarled. 

“I would never cheat! What makes you think that? Why is everyone accusing me of cheating?” He barked. You stormed past him, scoffing at his face. Damian followed after you. 

“I didn’t say you cheated. I’m saying you’re a bit all over her. And if everyone is accusing you of cheating, what do you think that says about you?” You pointed your finger at his chest. Damian pulled back from you, looking you up and down. 

“I’m not a cheater,” He seethed. “I bet the media didn’t tell you she leaned over and vomited all over my shoes right after that. Why are you assuming the worst about me? First this stupid coffee and now all of a sudden I’m a cheater!”  Damian gestured in the direction of your coffee cabinet. You dropped your head back, rolling your eyes. 

“Oh please! I didn’t call you a cheater. You’re being so-” You cut yourself off, throwing your hands up. Damian snapped his head at you. 

“I’m being what? What am I being? Sensitive? Is that what you’re going to say?” Damian demanded. You scoffed, jerking your chin towards him. 

“If the fucking shoe fits, Damian. You’re being a pain in the ass.” You threw your arms out to your sides. Damian pressed his lips tightly together, frowning deeply at you. You bent down, yanking your sweater from the floor. You swerved around Damian, harshly throwing the sweater into the trashcan. 

“I’m being a pain in the ass? Me? Are you kidding? I just came home; you’re tearing into me about your goddamn coffee. You’re being ridiculous.” Damian said, spinning around to face you. His eyes caught on your sweater. He raised a brow, pointing at it. 

“What are you doing? I bought you that.” You threw your arms up, turning your back on him. 

“Who gives a shit? It’s none of your business what I do!” You yelled, storming towards the bedroom. Damian yanked the sweater from the trash can. 

“Don’t throw my gifts away. It is absolutely my business what you do!” Damian fumed, chasing after you. You spun around, grabbing hold of the bedroom door. 

“Go fuck yourself, Damian. I can’t fucking stand your emotionally stunted ass. You’re not a fucking baby, quit acting like one.” You hissed, slamming the door. Damian took a startled step back. He huffed. 

“Fine! I’m not fucking talking to you if you’re going to be an ass!” Damian yelled. He stared at the door, waiting. Open the door. Beg for his forgiveness. Kiss his cheeks and tell him you’re so sorry and you won’t let it happen again. 

“Fine! Go!” You yelled back. Damian groaned loudly, storming straight out of your apartment. 

He sat in the driveway to the manor for twenty minutes. He stared at the sweater bundled up in his lap. Damian wanted to drive back to your apartment and curl in your lap. He really just wanted you to pull your fingers through his hair and tell him you love him. He sighed. He couldn’t even smell your sweater and pretend he was with you. It smelled like your trash can. And what made everything worse was that now that he was thinking back on it, he absolutely used the last of your coffee and forgot to toss it. He had made such a big stink about it with you, and it was genuinely his fault. Damian wanted to turn back time, and once you ask him, ‘Was it you?’ he can say, ‘I’m so sorry’. Instead he’s sat alone in his car, staring at the fabric of your sweater. 

He thought it would be best to let you both settle down and apologize in the morning. So he tried to focus on everything else. He found the hole in your sweater. He handed it off to Alfred with many pleas that he try to fix it. Alfred promised to have it done by tonight. He was sent on patrol with Dick. The first part was tolerable. Dick tried to crack jokes, which only earned him grunts from Damian. They had to take down a whole group of muggers, which was entertaining. About halfway through, rain started pouring, soaking them both down to the bone. But it was tolerable; it at least gave him puddles to entertain himself with. Then just as Damian decided he was going to make it through this night, they hit a lull. The city went quiet; no criminal activity was found. There wasn’t even a lost kid to find the parents of. They were just going roof by roof, looking over the streets. And of course Nightwing couldn’t stand a second of silence. 

“So what happened today?” He asked, flipping over onto his hands. He stood in a handstand on the edge of the rooftop. Damian glared at him, though he didn’t see it. 

“Nothing.” Damian mumbled. Dick groaned. 

“Don’t tell me you’re slipping back into your ‘nonchalant’ facade.” Dick pulled an arm back, balancing on just one hand. 

“Do you have to do that?” Damian snapped. Dick set both his hands down, flipping back onto his feet. 

“I’m entertaining myself. It’s incredibly boring tonight.” Dick grumbled. He crossed his arms over his chest, pouting like a petulant child. Damian felt an eye twitch starting to spark. 

“I had a bad day,” Damian answered. Dick furrowed his brows. 

“That much was obvious. What actually happened?” Dick glared at Damian. Damian really wished he didn’t like Dick as much as he did. He would’ve taken a finger by now. He wouldn’t kill him. But maiming was okay. 

“Jason was a dick. Tim went through my sketchbook. You put your armpit on me. I got into a huge fight with my partner. Now I’m on patrol with you, which is how I imagine hell to look like.” Damian ranted. Dick sighed through his nose. He kicked his leg out, pointing his toes to stretch it. 

“What was the fight about?” Dick asked, rolling his ankle. Damien groaned, sitting down on the edge of the roof. He stared at the cars driving down the roads. 

“Everything and nothing,” Damian answered. Dick dropped his head back, letting out a loud, annoying groan. 

“I can’t help you if you’re going to be vague,” Dick complained. 

“Maybe I don’t want your help!” Damian snapped. He scoffed, pressing his lips into a tight line. 

“Sorry.” He muttered under his breath. He wasn’t repeating it, even if Dick asked. 

“Well, it helps to talk it out, you know,” Dick grumbled. Damian sighed loudly, amping up his annoyance just to irate Dick a little more. 

“I drank the last of their coffee. They didn’t like that picture the media has thrown up everywhere. I said I didn’t like them calling me a cheater. They said they weren’t, but if everyone is calling me a cheater, what does that say about me? They said I was overreacting. And they threw the sweater I bought them last year in the trash. In front of me. And they said I was emotionally stunted and acting like a baby.” Damian sighed as he ranted, feeling more and more like an asshole the more he talked. Dick grimaced. He settled down next to Damian on the roof. His hand started to gently rub Damian’s back. It was tentative, like he thought Damian might swing back and bite him. The more Dick comforted him, the closer he felt to tears.

“And I accidentally tore a sketch I made of them,” Damian mumbled. His voice broke, his resolve cracking into a pathetic mess. 

“And I think I messed us up as much as I messed that up.” Damian pushed out his words in a broken voice. His confession fell into sobs, his tears swarming his face. Damian fell into Dick’s arms. Dick wrapped Damian in a hug, gently rocking him back and forth. Damian held onto Dick’s back, letting himself be cradled. Damian didn’t stop the tears from flowing, just letting himself wallow in his self-pity. He let himself rock with the crashes of his sobs. 

When he finally caught his breath again, Dick pulled him back. Dick cradled his face, holding onto his cheeks. He wiped at the tears trailing over the edge of his mask. He shook his head. 

“Fights happen. It’s okay; it doesn’t mean it’s over. Me and Kori fight-” 

“Really?” Damian whimpered. He felt embarrassment creep up behind him at his tone. He frowned and hid in Dick’s arms again. 

“Oh yeah. We fight. It’s okay though, all you have to do is apologize and work to change. Especially since it’s over something small. You just have to talk, that’s all.” Dick whispered, rubbing at Damian’s shoulder. Damian paused, his eyes opening. He could get to the manor in ten. He could get to your apartment from the manor in fifteen. He could get to your window. He could beg for your forgiveness before dawn even broke. He really wasn’t sure how long he could let this fester; he needed you to be happy now. Damian pulled from Dick, wiping at his face. 

“Can you manage on your own?” Damian asked, standing up. Dick scoffed at him. 

“I’m friggin Nightwing, dude.” Dick raised his arms, flexing. Damian rolled his eyes, pulling at the grappling hook on his belt. 

“Great. I have to take care of something tonight.” Damian took a running start off the building, swinging over the street to the next rooftop. 

“You’ve got this, Baby Bat!” Dick screamed in encouragement. Damian ignored him, focusing on his way towards the manor. 

Once he finally got there, he started whipping through the rooms. He yelled for Alfred every chance he got. Bruce appeared next to him. Damian jumped as he turned around. 

“Hello, father.” Damian greeted, squeezing past him. Bruce followed him as Damian searched. 

“You are assigned to patrol. What has happened?” Bruce asked, clearly worried at the frazzled state his son was in. Damian glanced back, giving him hardly any attention. 

“I have to take care of something. I called Todd on the way over. He’s covering me.” Damian explained. He poked his head through the dining room door. Alfred stood in the dark, staring at Damian. Damian’s shoulders slumped in relief. 

“Alfred. I wanted to know if the sweater was ready?” Damian asked. Alfred opened his mouth to answer. 

“What sweater?” Bruce cut off. Damian stared at Alfred, begging silently that he would just answer. Alfred pulled his hands from behind his back. He was holding your sweater out towards him. 

“All fixed, Master Wayne,” Alfred stated. Damian surged forward, taking the sweater from his hands. 

“Thank you, Alfred. Sorry about tracking in the rain.” Damian muttered, spinning around and rushing for the front door. Bruce chased after him. 

“Where are you going?” He asked, watching him in concern. Damian waved him off. 

“To take care of business,” Damian grumbled as he sprinted out of the house and towards you. 

Your bedroom window was attached to a fire escape. Which was something Damian was incredibly grateful for. The rain had seemed to double, making the painted metal more slippery than he liked. Your lights were off, and your curtains were closed. He hoped you weren’t asleep. He didn’t want to wake you. He shook his head, letting water droplets fly from his hair. Your sweater was soaked. He did try to cover it with his cape, but that didn’t seem to help. 

Damian reached forward, knocking against the glass. He waited a minute, his heart pounding against his chest. Your light did not turn on. Damian knocked again, this time harder. No movement at all. Damian huffed, pressing his forehead to the cold glass. Please. Please. He knocked again, still pressing his head to the glass. Light flickered behind his eyelids. Damian snapped his eyes open, finding your light on. He started up, pressing his hand to your window. You pulled the curtains open, jumping at the sight of him. Your mouth fell open. You mouthed his name, making a sad smile spread on his face. You threw open the window, staring at him in shock. 

“Hey,” he breathed. It was nice to see you with something on your face that wasn’t anger. You sputtered. 

“What are you doing? It’s raining!” You yelled over the rush of the water droplets. Damian nodded. He brought his hand to his mouth, wiping at the rain there. 

“Did you mean it?” Damian asked. His eyes were peeking out from under the mask. The green was surrounded by red. You sighed, your body slumping. You shook your head, reaching out the window for him. You held onto his cheek. 

“Not a word.” You whispered. Damian sighed, leaning into your hand. 

“I am so sorry. I just had a terrible day, and I blew up. You shouldn’t have to take that from me.” Damian rambled. His eyes shot around the fire escape. “ I should’ve said something. I should’ve just apologized. I started a fight, and I didn’t mean-” Your mouth against his cut him off. You were leaning out the window, holding his face against yours. Damian sighed, tossing his arm over your back. He held onto you as your pajamas started to soak through. This is what he needed. He could feel his shitty day slipping away as you moved your lips against his. He cradled you against him as he turned you, pulling you further out the window. Your legs, knee down, were in your apartment. Your back was held in Damian’s lap, his shoulders shielding you from the rain. Your thighs were getting wet, but you didn’t care. You ran your hand across his cheek, holding onto the back of his neck. 

You pulled away. You didn’t slip back into your apartment; you just stared at him. You pulled at the small hairs at the base of his neck. 

“I’m sorry.” You said, your eyes shining in the rain. Damian shook his head, licking his lips. He couldn’t imagine a day going by when he didn’t kiss you. 

“Don’t be,” Damian stated, gazing down at you. You were stunning even against the material of his suit. He had to die before you. He wouldn’t be able to live if you weren’t there to look at him like this. 

“A towel would be nice,” Damian added. You laughed, pulling yourself off his lap. You slipped into your apartment, Damian following after you. 

Damian hated that he was dripping onto your floor. You grinned at him over your shoulder as you pulled a towel from your bathroom. He felt his worries fly away. He couldn’t care less about your floor; you were looking at him like he was the only person in the universe. He took the towel from your hands, rubbing it through his hair. He held out your sweater. 

“Alfred fixed it,” Damian said. You looked down at it, your mouth parting. You gently took it from him, holding it in your arms as if it were pure gold. You held it up, water dripping off the bottom edge. Damian felt an embarrassed frown pull at his mouth. 

“It’s wet.” You muttered. Damian nodded, spinning around towards the curtains. He yanked them closed. He turned back to you, pulling at his soaked suit. 

“It’s raining.” He answered. You lifted a glare at him, running your hand over the patch where the hole used to be. 

“You can’t even tell.” You whispered. Damian set his mask on your dresser, dropping his pile of a suit on the floor. He stared at you while he stood in front of you, down to just his underwear. Your hair was sticking to your face. Your pajamas were glued to your skin, but you didn’t seem to care. 

“Alfred is talented,” Damian said. You pressed the sweater to your chest, looking up at him. Your face fell into a smile, your eyes watering. 

“You hate it.” Damian sighed, his shoulders dropping. You shook your head, holding an arm at him. Damian tipped forward, falling into your hug. You pushed your head over his shoulder, kissing his bare skin. He wrapped his arms around your back. He tried his hardest not to cringe at the feeling of your soaked sweater pressing against him. He pressed his nose against your shoulder, so glad he was finally home. 

“I love it.” You whispered. 

Bruce was a little startled when Jason settled down next to him in the morning. They both had their own coffee. Bruce was reading his newspaper. Jason was scrolling through the news on his tablet. Bruce looked up when Jason gasped. 

“What is it?” Bruce asked. Jason started to let out a little evil giggle. 

“I’ve got to send this to Damian.” He tapped at his tablet loudly. Bruce tried to peer over his shoulder. 

“What is it?”Bruce repeated. 

“You’re getting FOMO, old man,” Jason grumbled, flipping the screen around. Bruce glared at him before dropping his eyes to the tablet.  A picture of Robin was blasted across the screen. He was kissing someone, sitting on a fire escape as they hung out their window. The picture was horrible quality, and Robin’s hand was pressed to their face so it wasn’t possible to identify the person. Jason swiped at the screen, showing off a new picture. The back of Robin was facing the camera now, his head hung as he stared down at his lap. Two legs were hanging from the window. It was clear as day that whoever he was kissing before was now cradled in his lap. Next to Robin was a bundled ball of fabric. One Bruce recognized. 

“Is this the business he had to take care of last night?” Bruce asked. Jason shrugged, flipping his tablet back to him. 

“No clue. He only told me I had to cover because he had to handle something.” Jason grumbled. Bruce pulled at his phone, opening the contacts immediately. The phone only rang twice before he picked up. 

“Dick.” Bruce started. Dick sighed on the other side. 

“I see you’ve read the news today,” Dick mumbled. 

You rolled over in your empty bed, groaning at the absence of Damian. You stumbled out of the room, finding him in the kitchen. He was leaning against the counter, with a coffee mug next to him. 

“I bought you more coffee,” Damian stated, pushing the mug closer to you. You gratefully took it. You pressed it to your lips, taking a sip. He turned his phone around, showing you a picture that was definitely you kissing him in his Robin suit. 

“Quality is too poor to make out your face. I’m definitely going to be seen a certain way by Gotham.” Damian grumbled. Your eyes shot to the top of the screen. A small box holding ‘Father’ and ‘Incoming Call’ popped up. Your brows shot up, making Damian flip the phone around. He answered it, pressing it to his ear. 

“Hello, Father,” Damian answered. He pulled the phone from his ear, covering the speaker with his palm. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours. You hummed, kissing him back. Damian pulled back, rolling his lips together to taste your coffee. He pressed the phone back to his ear. 

“Of course, I’m listening, Father.” Damian scoffed. 

Dick could run significantly faster than you, but he never did. He always matched your pace on your Sunday runs. He’d rest with you when you needed to. You’d drop against a park bench and he’d suddenly need to show you one of his new acrobatic moves. You hardly ever paid attention to him, grumbling praises like a parent coddling their child. When he slipped and fell he knew it made you laugh. He lost his footing around you more than anyone else. 

He was exceptional with his mouth. In a multitude of ways. On your runs Dick was always next to you, praising you and encouraging every move. You sometimes scolded him once you got home about how other people could definitely hear him. He didn’t seem to care. Dick ran next to you as you were both turning the corner onto your street. 

“Come on, Baby. You’re almost there.” Dick huffed out, his breath perfectly trained for this bullshit. You shot him a glare as you started recognizing the houses. Dick grinned at you, proud of himself for irritating you. But if you got home still irritated he’d totally be in the dog house. You might not even let him share your shower. Dick’s face fell. He looked away from your body as he tried to calculate a scheme. Dick turned around to face you as he ran, skipping a few steps ahead of you. 

“Race you.” He said, watching your face in utter joy. Your mouth dropped open. 

“Dick! That’s so unfair!” You complained, your mouth puffering into a pout. You’re doing this on purpose. You have to be. You had to know what your pout did his resolve. He felt his heart skip a beat, his feet slowed just slightly. Dick realized his fuck up the second the corner of your lips tilted up. Dick closed his eyes in mourning. 

“For you.” You added, picking up your speed. Dick’s feet froze. He watched you as you sped away from him. He grinned at you, shocked he got to have any moment of normalcy with you. He loved you so deeply, he was certain you were engraved on his bones. But you were going to lose if it was the last thing he did.

Dick chased after you, his feet silent after all his training. You glanced over your shoulder at him, shocked laughter rumbling out of you at how close he was. You squeaked, rushing up the front stairs of your apartment building. Dick reached you, his hands finding your waist. He tugged you backwards. Your back bumped into him, a huff pushing out of your mouth. Dick tilted his head, pressing a kiss to your cheek before rushing past you.

You scoffed at him as he raced you to the elevator. You ignored the questioning stare coming from the desk clerk as you reached Dick. You grabbed the back of his shirt, yanking him backwards. Dick groaned, his arms flying out as he tried to catch his balance. You raced past him, entering the elevator first. 

You pressed at the close-door button, rapidly slamming it. The doors started to close, a sigh passing from you. You leaned against the railing, glad your victory was coming to fruition. You startled at the sight of Dick’s hand pressing against the door. The metal slowly bounced back from his hand, finally letting him in. Dick stepped into the elevator. 

“What floor?” You asked, mimicking the casual conversation had with a stranger. Dick looked up, catching onto your riff immediately. 

“Uh, five, please.” He said. You leaned forward, pressing the already lit button. Dick chuckled. 

“Oh, look at that! We’re floor twins.” He joked. You let out an awkward laugh, sighing afterward. Jeez you were good. You both heaved for air as the doors slowly closed. You stared forward. Dick followed your lead, waiting as the doors finally gave you both seclusion. He glanced up at the corners of the elevator, finding the one and only camera hanging by a wire. Broken.

He turned towards you, finding you peeling your eyes from the same thing. You surged forward, yanking him by his sweaty shirt. Dick caught your lips. He rocked into you, pushing you against him. You tilted your head, licking at his lips. His hand found the back of your neck, pressing your tongue into his mouth. He listened to the beeps of the elevator while you slowly raised up the floors. 

One. He grunted into you as you tilted your head back, rewarding him with your bare skin. If he was in your shared apartment, he’d press his hands into your thighs and carry you wrapped around his waist to your bedroom. 

Two. The world hated him. That had to be it. This was torture, only being able to kiss you. Even for a few minutes this was hell. You sighed at the feeling of him sucking at your neck. You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck. You tugged him closer, pressing your cheek to his wet hair. You couldn’t even be bothered to care about the sweat. As you said before, he’s exceptional with his mouth. 

Three. Don’t make him do this, his heart can’t handle it. He has to pull away from you. Dick pulled his mouth from your skin, tipping forward to press a kiss to your cheek. Dick separated from you, taking a step back. You let out a small whine that if he wasn’t completely obsessed with you, he wouldn’t have heard. You straightened up, staring ahead again. Dick followed your lead, pretending you were strangers again.

“Nice weather, huh?” You mumbled. Dick grinned, lord did he want every part of you. If only the elevator broke down and he could strip down with you here and now. Dick nodded. 

“Nice breeze too, which helps. ‘Cause you know-” Dick started, tilting his head to the side. You smirked as you caught on. 

“Not the heat that kills you-” You nodded as you said it, overjoyed to be on the same page. 

“It’s the humidity.” You both said in unison. You giggled before sighing. 

“Yes, exactly.” Dick mumbled as the elevator finally dinged again. You straightened up as the doors started to peel open. You stepped closer to the door, saddling up next to him. Oh, so that’s how you’ll play it? That’s fine Dick can play too. Just as the doors spread open, you sprinted past him. Dick chased after you, gaining on you quickly. Dick’s hand found your hip, matching your pace. You laughed as you collided with your apartment door. You turned around onto your back to stare at Dick. He pressed you into the door, capturing your lips. He dug into his short’s skintight pocket, dragging out his keys. You hummed against his mouth, tilting your head back to drop it against the door. Dick fumbled with his keys, already hating that he’d have to pull away from you. He broke the kiss. Dick panted, covering your burning skin with his breath. He stared down at the keys in his hands, finally pressing the one he needed into the door. 

Dick pushed the door open, snaking an arm around you. He walked you backward into the apartment, leaning forward every few seconds to lightly kiss you. He kicked the door shut, his hand stumbling behind his back to lock it. He pulled from the kiss at the sound of Haley’s tags jingiling. 

Haley jumped from her bed, running towards the both of you. Her tail swished as she did, her whole bottom half shaking with it. Dick leaned down, scratching behind her ears and cooing at her. You made kissy noises at her. You ran your hand down her back as you mumbled about how you lover her. You pulled away, Dick’s focus still locked on Haley’s excited face. You patted his back. 

“Okay. I’m taking a shower.” You declared, walking past him towards the bathroom. Dick shot up at that, staring at you as you walked away. 

“Alone?” He asked begged. You slowly turned around, raising a brow. Dick frowned, pooling his eyes. Please let the puppy eyes work. The corner of your lips ticked down. You sighed loudly. Victory rushed through his veins. He was taking that shower with you. 

“Fine.” You groaned, stepping into the bathroom. Dick followed after you, already pulling at the hem of your shirt. You ducked as he pulled it over your head. It really did something to him when you both moved in sync. When you caught each other’s jokes and expected the next move. It sent blood rushing through him. You were so intelligent and funny he just couldn’t possibly imagine anyone else being able to match him so perfectly. He had to get you naked now. He had to touch your skin before that water slobbed all over you. 

Dick dug his fingers into the band of your shorts. He slowly dropped down onto his knees, taking the shorts with him. You wigged out of them, stepping away from him. You ducked your head into the shower to crank the water on. Dick watched every move, tracing every inch of your bare skin. He dropped your shorts next to him. He stretched his arms out, finding the curve of your calves. You glanced back, raising a brow at him. He carefully tugged on your legs. You stepped forward. You faced him, meeting him in the center of the bathroom. Dick stared up at you, pressing his chin into your stomach. You dropped your hands to his hair, pulling through the sweat. He sighed, his mouth dropping open. His hands trailed up the back of your legs, digging into your thighs. Dick turned his head, pressing his open mouth into your stomach. 

“God, please.” He begged. He pressed a kiss to your stomach, closing his eyes in bliss. You scoffed out a laugh. 

“You’re such a pathetic slut, Dick. Can’t even get naked around you without you salivating.” You mocked, rolling your eyes. Dick nodded against you. 

“You’re making it worse.” Dick grumbled, furrowing his brows. He pressed his mouth to the space under your belly button. He swiped his tongue up the line of hair, making you jump. You pulled from his hold, making him whine. 

“Dick,” You scolded. Dick kept his eyes closed, reminiscing on the times he had you in his arms. Like three seconds ago. He leaned forward onto his hands, crawling towards you. You smacked your hand on the top of his head, forcing him to stay away from you. 

“I miss you.” Dick groaned. 

“Are you getting in the shower or not?” You grumbled. Dick sat back on his heels, watching your form disappear behind the curtain. That water was touching all over you in there and he was out here. All alone. 

“Yeah hold on.” Dick mumbled, yanking at his shirt.

When you went into the grocery store, the sun was barely slipping past the horizon. As you stepped out of the sliding doors with your three bags, you sighed out. Being stuck in concrete walls with all those people, only for a few minutes, really killed you. People rarely talked about how exhausting grocery stores were. A small child in overalls chased after his mother pushing their cart. You felt a small grin pull at your lips. The kid’s foot caught on a rock and stumbled right into the pavement. You grimaced, quickly walking in the direction of your car so you wouldn’t hear the cries. The sun was completely down now. You missed it already. 

You finally reached the trunk of your car, popping it open. You should be getting home soon, Gotham was the worst place ever. Just as you set your third bag into your trunk, glass shattering startled you. The roof of your car was caved in, wrapping around a ball of red and black. Robin was splayed across the roof of your car, one of his boots hanging off the edge. You slowly started to realize it was entirely possible you had a dead Robin on your car. Batman was going to fucking kill you. Oh. Batman was going to fucking beat your ass. You stepped away from your car, pressing your hands to your mouth. A woman on the other side of the parking row paused in her packing up her groceries. 

“What the fuck?” She asked, more confused than startled. Which you admired. You were more shocked than anything else. Scared was also a prominent feeling. She took a careful step forward. 

“Is he dead? If he is you need to take pics you’ll get big bucks from newspapers.” She advised, widening her eyes at the mention of big. You shrugged. 

“I don’t know.” You muttered. How were you to get home? What are you supposed to do with Robin’s dead body? Do you take him to the batcave and lay him at Batman’s feet? Here’s your sidekick, I swear it wasn’t me. Maybe you need to bury him. Hide him, he’ll disappear. One call to your best friend and Robin is gone. 

A low groan floated from your broken car. 

“Oh stars.” You sighed, dropping your hands onto your knees. You hung your head, catching your breath. You didn’t have a dead Robin on your car, just a maimed one. Batman was not going to beat your ass. The woman behind you sighed disappointedly. 

“Damn shame, you could’ve paid your rent for months.” She grumbled as she went back to her groceries. You wanted to call her greedy and unempathetic, but you were aware of the third man syndrome so you were still uncertain she wasn’t your subconscious. You heard another groan, this time louder. You straighten up, staring at Robin. He slowly peeled himself off your car, groaning for every inch he moved. He sat forward, flopping his arms between his legs. He stared over the back of your car. He caught your eyes. Robin glanced around himself, assessing his situation. 

“Is this your car?” He asked, his voice scratchy like the crash broke his voice box too. You frowned.

“Yes.” You answered. Robin pressed a gloved hand to his eyebrow. He slowly stood up, straightening his back into a scarily straight posture. He stared down from the top of your car, making you crane your neck back to look at him. Robin hummed. 

“Apologies. I will replace it at a later date.” Robin declared. He turned his head from you. He started looking around the sky like he was plotting his way out. 

“Well, now wait a minute.” You scoffed. Robin turned his head. The top edge of his mask curved with his eyebrow. 

“You can’t just total my car and ditch me in a parking lot. How am I supposed to get home safely? You of all people should know how dangerous Gotham is.” You crossed your arms as you watched him. You obviously had a lot of respect for the vigilantes of Gotham. And many of  the ones in other cities. Robin here was practically throwing you to the wolves. 

“Of course. You make a good argument.” Robin said. He jumped down from the roof of your car, landing hard on the pavement next to you. He straightened up, staring into your eyes as he did it. What. A. Freak. 

“Are there any belongings within your car you wish to take with you?” He asked. You leaned over the trunk of your car, pulling the bags out again. 

“Do you always talk like a robot?” You joked, grinning at yourself. You slammed your trunk shut. You hoped your car was left alone. It was bad enough it was practically shattered. The windshield was busted and a giant could use your roof as a cereal bowl. Just give your poor baby some grace for one night. Robin gave you a small look of disapproval. 

“I prefer proper grammar.” Robin stated. You hummed. 

“Dork,” You mumbled. You looked back to him, squaring your shoulders. Time for the longest walk of your life. 

“Let’s get this hike going.” You chuckled, pointing your hand over his shoulder. Robin tilted his head to the side. 

“Hike?” He repeated. You nodded. 

“Well, yes. Did you plan to fly to my house? Where’s the BatJet?” You quipped, already giggling at your own joke. 

“We refer to it as Building Swinging but I suppose flying could be accurate.” Robin grumbled, pulling his grappling hook from his utility belt. You took a step back, shaking your head. 

“I am not jumping over rooftops with you. I thought you were walking me home.” You stared at the hook in his hand in shock. Robin groaned. 

“I beg of you not to make this difficult. This is a perfectly safe form of travel. You will not get hurt.” Robin insisted. You glared at him. 

“If it’s so safe, why are you falling onto my car?” You rebutted. Robin paused. He glanced up at the sky. 

“Unrelated.” He finished. You scoffed. 

“How so?” 

“Vigilante business unfit for citizen mind.” Your mouth parted at his brashness. He reached his hand out, motioning you forward. 

“You are wasting time.” He glared at you as he said it. You huffed at him. 

“You are incredibly blunt.” You complained. You stepped forward, entering back into his sphere. He pulled you closer by your waist, pressing your tightly against him. 

“Thank you.” Robin muttered. 

You screamed more than you would admit, as he swung you both through the city skyline. You held tightly onto your groceries and his shoulders. You squeezed your eyes shut for most the trip, which made you suddenly dropping through the air incredibly terrifying. Halfway through it, you finally caught the pattern of it. You swung through the air like the ocean waves. Up and down. Once you got the hang of it, you peeled open your eyes. You hooted in joy more than you would admit. 

Robin finally landed in front of your apartment, his arm slowly slipping away from your body. You were slightly wobbly on your legs as you finally reintroduced yourself to the ground again. He watched you carefully as you stepped away from him, almost like he was searching for injuries. He dragged his eyes up the length of your apartment building, craning his neck back to catch the roof. 

“What’s your apartment number?” He asked. You glanced back at him, raising a brow. 

“You know, I think Batman himself visited my elementary school telling us not to give our addresses to strangers.” You turned away from him, stepping towards the glass door of your apartment building. 

“You are incredibly irritating. I have to know where to send the money for your car.” Robin grumbled. You shook your head. You gave him a mocking frown. 

“Nope, if you want to make that wrong right you’ll have to wait out here to give it to me.” You declared before pulling open your apartment building door. 

Two days later a thick fucking envelope arrived in your mail. It was addressed with your full name in stunning cursive letters. The return address was blank except for an R. You furrowed your brows, tearing open the envelope. Your mouth dropped open at the number of crisp 100 dollar bills staring up at you. The only not green thing was a small folded piece of paper. You pulled it out, unfolding it. 

Found your address through the BatComputer. If you need more we have a private tipline online. 

-R

You had more than 800 dollars left over after all the repairs to your car. The Mechanics fixing it back up had a real giggle about your Robin story. You felt guilty for having the extra money. You loved money as much as the next guy but you felt you needed to return it. So you typed up a quick message to the tip line. 

This message is for Robin specifically. 

How do I get the leftover money back to you? This is far too much to keep. 

Tim had a bit of a conniption when he found said message deep into the tip line. He read it out to Damian, expecting some kind of embarrassment. Maybe even anger at being vulnerable. Instead Damian just hummed and turned away from Tim. 

A letter turned up pressed between two pieces of junk mail. The return address was just R again. There wasn't a letter inside, only a square piece of paper. 

Keep it. 

-R

From there a friendship sparked. You sent him messages through the tip line. He sent you letters, each one signed with only R. You grew used to it, looking forward to the swirly cursive showing up in your mail. You sent so many messages you started addressing it to just R not even bothering to write out Robin. 

Damian was scolded for using the professional tip line for personal business. So he sent you his personal phone number. From there, you grow even closer. 

He was a slow texter but you gave him grace seeing as he was Robin. Before you knew it you were spending hours on call with him. He was Robin for a very long time before he finally revealed his face to you. The pieces clicked together when he told you he was Damian Wayne. Of course he has no problem paying to fix your car. He was a friggin billionaire. 

He grew from Robin, to your friend, to Damian, and then to your partner. You couldn't be happier he crashed into your car. He started spending nights in your apartment. He even had his own toothbrush now. Typically he would wake up long before you even considered peeking an eye open. He would make himself breakfast and sit down at your table to eat it. He’d even shoot you a confused look when you grumbled about it. 

Damian appreciated your looks every part of his day. He liked when you grinned at him before you cracked a particularly bad joke. He liked when your eyes would widen when he peeled his shirt off. He liked when you jokingly frowned at him when he mumbled. But Damien had a very large soft spot for when you glared at him. Especially in the morning. 

You stumbled out of your bedroom. You rubbed at your closed eyes, swerving around each piece of furniture. Damian raised his eyes from your small table. He tracked every move. You were tightly wrapped in your robe, far too tired to pick out actual clothes. You finally peeled your eyes open. You slipped behind the kitchen counter. You kicked at the counter, pushing your slipper back up your foot. You raised a brow at Damian before pulling open one of the cabinets. You pulled down your coffee, pressing it into the machine. 

“Freak.” You muttered. Damian hummed in disapproval. You pulled your favorite mug from the cabinet. You finally pressed the brew button, letting the hot liquid drip into your cup. You left the coffee behind, approaching Damian. You slipped your hands around his shoulders. Damian pulled himself from his breakfast, wrapping his arms around you. He pressed his chin into your chest, staring up at you. You pet the top of his head. His hair stuck up in loud spikes. The sunlight peeking out from the curtains caught in your hair. You gave him a small smile, your eyes brightening. Damian wanted to frame this moment in his mind and let the smell of your robe and  the smile on your face be a permanent fixture. 

“Habibi.” He whispered to your chest. He hoped the word pressed through your skin and past your ribs. Damian hoped it swirled around your heart like it did to his. He wanted you to melt into him and whine about how sweet it was. Unlucky for him, it was early in the morning and you didn’t know Arabic. Your face twisted into confusion. You looked away from him, looking around the ceiling. 

“We have bees?” You asked. You looked back down at him. Now your eyes were jumping over his skin, searching for a bee sting. How did bees even get inside your apartment? Damian groaned. He pulled his arms from you, returning to his breakfast. 

“It’s Arabic.” He explained. His tone was flat like you not being trilingual was a personal failure. He really got quite cocky about his language talents. He’d make you sit and watch movies with him. The only problem was the actors would be speaking Arabic with Mandarin subtitles. You couldn’t catch a lick of it. You had a suspicion he did it on purpose so he could take on the role of translator. 

“Oh, sorry darling.” You mumbled, rubbing at the back of his neck. When you first used the baby nickname he had taken incredible offense against it. You were trying to work him into comfort with it but he was rather hard headed. Darling was good choice, he liked it. That was plenty. 

“It’s a nickname.” Damian grumbled. You paused, your heart swelling. You had a million nicknames for him. He only ever referred to you by your name, like every date was a business meeting. You thought it’d be years before you got a nickname. 30 years at least for maybe a shorting of your name. You pressed your hands to your heart. 

“You gave me a nickname?” You cooed, pulling him back to your chest. Damian nodded against you. 

“What’s it mean?” You asked, tilting your head down. Damian paused, his eyes flickering away from you. He thought through his options. A, Tell you what it means and in the process tell you he loves you (scary). B, lie and end up lying to you which was heavily frowned on for whatever reason. C, make a distraction and hope you forget about it. B seemed good to him. 

“Pain in the ass.” Damian stated, looking back to you. You groaned, pushing him away. 

“I’ve told you to stop muttering.” You glared at him as you returned to your coffee. Damian felt his heart swarm. He pushed his grin down, looking back to his breakfast before you could spark a heart attack. Within a few minutes you were sitting down across the small table with your coffee. Just as you set it down, Damian picked it up. He brought it to his lips, taking a sip. You watched him knowingly as his face twisted up in disgust. You nodded as you took the mug from his hands. He coughed, patting his chest. 

“That is foul. Coffee is meant to be black.” Damian gagged. You rolled your eyes, bringing your coffee to your mouth. 

“Then make your own coffee.” You rebutted. Damian scoffed before pulling your mug from your hands and taking another drink. 

“I have to make sure you don’t poison yourself.” Damian set your coffee down, returning to his plate. 

You grew comfortable with the Wayne family. There were a lot of names you had to memorize. At first, you couldn’t visit the manor without Damian or you’d get lost. Everytime you had to pee he had to walk you to the bathroom and wait outside the door to walk you back. He showed you to each of his pets, giving you every name. You had to take notes and when you got home you added pictures next to the names. 

Eventually you were perfectly fine spending nights in their theater room with Damian’s brothers. It was a routine to spend Friday nights with a movie and Damian’s family. Bruce typically sat in his armchair, with all four of his sons on the couch pressed next to it. Tim started spending the movie nights on the ground. He usually rolled around throught the movie, almost never finding a comfortable seat. You usually ended up between Dick and Damian. Dick held the popcorn so you were fine with it. 

“Habibi, I would appreciate a drink from the kitchen.” Damian called to you as he dug through the large pile of DVDs with Jason. Dick had flung himself across the couch, his arms resting along the back. You groaned, titling your head back in irritation. 

“Please.” Damian added as a second thought. You nodded, moving to stand. 

“Habibi?” Dick repeated, his brows furrowing. You hummed. 

“It’s a nickname.” You explained. Jason glanced up, looking between you and Damian. 

“Cute.” He mumbled, still burying his hands in the DVDs. 

“It means pain in the ass, so not as cute.” You revealed. Dick paused, tilting his head to the side. You stood from the couch, making your way out of the movie room. 

“I thought habib meant-” Dick started. 

“Shut up, Grayson. White man telling me what words mean in my own damn language.” Damian grumbled. Dick quickly sat up, pointing an accusatory finger at Damian. 

“Hey! We already had a conversation about me being Romani!” Dick barked. Damian kept his eyes on the movies as he scoffed. 

“Whatever, Richard.” Damian mocked. You minded your own business as you left for the kitchen. 

When you finally returned with a soda, Dick and Damian were still arguing. You stepped between the two of them, holding out his glass to him. Damian gently took it from your hands. He caught onto your fingers with his free hand. He tilted his head down, pressing a soft kiss to your hand. You patted his shoulder before you settled back onto the sofa next to Dick. 

“Jason, come on, back me up here.” Dick groaned. Jason shook his head. 

“I’m not crossing Damian. I have Saturday plans.” Jason mumbled. Damian nodded in approval. Dick’s mood shifted quickly, leaning forward onto his knees in interest. 

“Yeah? With who?” Dick asked. You raised a brow in question, just as intrigued. Jason grinned evily, looking up at Dick from the floor. 

“Your mom.” Jason joked. Dick groaned, fowning at him. 

“That shit’s not funny, Jason. My mom is dead and you know that’s a sensitive topic for me.” Dick grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. Jason scoffed. 

“I don’t think anyone’s parents aren’t a sore subject here.” Jason muttered. The whole house has daddy issues. Damian looked up, finally lifting his head from the pile of DVD’s. 

“Not me. My mother loves me.” Damian pointed out. Jason glared at him. 

“I love everyone here.” Bruce’s deep voice boomed behind you. You jumped, turning on the couch to see Bruce and Tim carrying multiple bowls of popcorn. 

Damian was incredibly grateful that you left the window to your apartment open. Though in the morning he was likely to scold you for it. He pulled at the mask off his face, dropping it onto the table. He stepped forward, pulling at the cape attached to his suit. He kept moving across the apartment to your bedroom as he pulled at his costume. He gently set his sword on your couch, before yanking his boots off. Damian sighed as he finally shed down to his underwear. He stepped past the open door of your bedroom, glancing back at the trail of his clothes he was leaving behind. 

You were wrapped in your blankets, your cheek pressed into your pillow. You left a space for him on the other side of the bed. Damian grinned, quickly joining you under the covers. You sucked in a deep breath, turning around in the blankets. Damian dug through the blankets as he searched for your body. He wrapped his arm around your torso. 

“I did not mean to wake you.” Damian whispered. You opened your eyes, shaking your head. 

“I wasn’t asleep.” You replied, sitting up on your elbow to stare down at him. Damian sighed as he traced your features. He hoped he had the time and memory to sketch this out later. You raised your hand, rubbing your thumb over his cheek. Damian closed his eyes. He tried to memorized the path of it. He felt his muscles finally relax through his entire body. He hadn’t realized how uptight he’d been all night until right now. 

“Damian.” You whispered. Your tone was too sad, like just saying his name was a confession of a horrific crime. He opened his eyes. He waited patiently as you stared at him. Your mouth parted before you gently closed it again. Damian wished he could read your mind, that would make it extremely easier for you. You wouldn’t have to worry about the words getting caught in your mouth. 

“I love you.” You breathed. Damian felt his stomach drop in fear. He could barely cough the words out to Dick. He couldn’t even start with his other brothers. Heaven forbid he wanted to tell Bruce. It was almost like his mouth was broken. He knew he felt love. He knew he loved and was loved. But saying it, felt like he was signing someone’s death wish. Like every moment after he says it had him waiting for the other shoe to drop. He felt his eyes fog over as he thought of all the ways you could be taken and abused by the plethora of villains waiting in the darkness of Gotham. You nodded. You leaned forward, pressing your lips to his. Your kiss was gentle, only meant as a way to soothe him. A quiet promise that you didn’t mind. 

“Don’t say anything. I just wanted you to know.” You smiled softly as you stared at him. Your thumb rubbing against his cheek to pull him back to the present. Damian closed his mouth, pressing his lips into a line. He pulled his head from his pillow, returning your kiss. You hummed in approval. You pulled from him, laying back down. Just as you settled against his chest, he felt his words return to him. 

“Habibi means ‘my love’.” He confessed, staring at the ceiling. You froze, your eyes shooting open. For months now you thought you were being called a pain in the ass. The whole time you were his love? Every time you grumbled about the nickname being mean he was grinning at you like that because of this. You didn’t think twice about it. 

“Oh.” You muttered. You should say something extravagant and ask why a million times. But you didn’t really care. You were his love. His one and only for months. He was telling you every day multiple times over how much he loved you and you had no idea. You whined. You sat up, grinning down at him. 

“Oo you love me.” You sang, a teasing smile pulling at your lips. You poked his chest. Damian’s face split into a massive grin. He groaned in fake annoyance. He turned his face away from you, pretending you were irritating him so bad he couldn’t stand to look at you. You knew he was embarrassed and pretending. His hand found the back of your head, pushing you back onto his chest. 

“Rest now.” Damian grumbled. You chuckled as you settled against him, squeezing him closer. Damian pressed his nose to your hair, his hand running over your arm. 

“Uhibbuk.” He whispered into the smell of your shampoo. You grinned into his chest. 

“What does that mean?” You asked. You knew. 

“Pain in the ass.” Damian answered. He knew you knew. 

“Or, wǒ fēicháng àinǐ. Pain in the ass in Mandarin.” Damian added. You felt your cheeks starting to burn with the wattage you were smiling. 

“Again.” You demanded. Damian huffed. 

“Ana maghrim bik jiddan lidarajat annani la astati' altafkir fi ay shay' akhar” He slowly dragged through his words, making sure you heard every syllable. You felt like the ocean was trying to tell you something, but you couldn’t hear the whispers over the crashing of the waves. 

“That’s not what you said before.” You pointed out. Damian hummed in agreement. 

“It means, you are the biggest pain in my ass. No one can compare-” His voice fell. Damian sucked in a breath, pressing his cheek to the top of your head. 

“No one else compares to how much you irritate me.” He sighed lovingly. You cooed, pressing your nose into his skin. 

“You’re being very sweet.” You mumbled. Damian huffed out a chuckle. 

“Yes, I am horrendously sweet.” Damian snarked. You sighed against him, happier than ever. And in the morning when he called you Habibi you grinned wider than he ever saw you. He decided that look eclipsed your glare.

You were unsure if Jason was a paranoid freak or an incredibly intelligent yet scarred person. On your third date, he started muttering about self-defense tips. He was hot enough that you ignored it, waving him off. By the time you were together, he was adamant about you taking his advice. He taught you how to shoot a gun and helped you pick out your own handgun. Before you got your license, he bought you a taser and told you to keep it on you. You understood Gotham was a dangerous city, but he was a bit overprotective. 

 When you finally moved in together, Jason spent the first hour showing you where he would be hiding every weapon imaginable. You were starting to worry that he was obsessive. He kept a gun in the drawer under his sex toy drawer. It’s a bit sadistic. He made it clear that you would not touch these areas unless you thought you were in danger. How kind. Baseball bat next to the front door, knives in the bathroom, and his gun in the bedroom. You remembered he mentioned hiding something in one of his potted plants, but you couldn’t remember what it was. 

 You didn’t picture yourself ever actually having to rely on them, until today. 

 You locked the door behind yourself as you dropped your keys into the bowl. They clattered against something else. Jason had dropped his keys in the bowl; he must be home. You took your shoes off, hobbling off the last one. 

 “Jason!” You called, not bothering to look around as you went directly to the bedroom. You could hear the shower running on the other side of the apartment. He usually took showers after you got home, but it wasn’t far from unusual. You yanked your uniform off, tossing it into a pile on the floor. You yanked open one of the dresser drawers, unfolding a T-shirt. You heard the water in the bathroom shut off. You dug into the drawer for pants as you hung your head over the edge of the doorway. 

 “Jay?” You asked. You heard him drop a soap bottle in the bathroom. It clattered rather loudly before he cursed. You snorted as you stepped into the pants. You jumped into them as you walked into the living room. You readjusted the string, tying it into bunny ears. 

 “You won’t believe who I ran into getting coffee this morning!” You laughed, giddy to see Jason again. From morning to evening was far too long a wait. You trudged to the bathroom, glaring at the open window. You told him plenty of times how hypocritical it was to be so far up your ass about being safe just to leave the windows open. Jason always had something to say about him being the thing people should be scared of in the night. You always had something to say about him being a cringelord.    “I’ll give you three guesses.” You called as you pushed open the bathroom door. You were expecting your boyfriend leaned over the edge of the sink. Your stomach dropped when a stranger was standing in the middle of your bathroom with your robe wrapped around him. You let out a startled yelp. He was ripped to hell and back, with black curls dripping onto his forehead. He glanced up at you, his eyebrows furrowing. In his hand was your shampoo. He had striking blue eyes. 

 Ice pulsed through your bloodstreams, making your heart skip a beat. An unknown man was in your house. You quickly slammed the door, rushing back into the bedroom. You pulled open the bedside drawer, grumbling as you lifted Jason’s gun. Oh, of course, he got it especially made with red swirls on the sides. Why on earth did you ever entertain the idea of dating him? You saw a flash of his arms in your head and rolled your eyes at your own subconscious. Jason was totally getting torn to shreds by you when he got home. Of course, his dumbass left the window open, and the one time he's not at home, a stranger breaks in. 

 You stood in the bedroom doorway, pointing the gun ahead of you at the bathroom. The man slipped out of the room, still wrapped in your robe, holding your shampoo. He kept his eyes on the floor as he stepped out. 

 “Who are you?” You asked, your tone hard. Just like Jason told you. Take up space, hold your ground. The man looked up, letting out a scream at the sight of the gun in your hands. He flung his hands up towards his head. 

 “Jesus fucking Christ!” He yelled, taking a step away from you until he was pressed to the wall. 

 “Doesn’t sound like your name.” You mumbled. “Sounds rather familiar.” The man’s mouth dropped open. 

 “My name?” The man squeaked, pressing the back of his hands to the wall. “Just put the gun down.” He begged. You shook your head. 

 “You’re in my home. In my robe. In my bathroom. Using my shampoo. And you expect me to put my gun down?” It was a rhetorical question. You expected far too much of him to understand that, apparently. 

 “Well, I personally believe all guns are unsafe. I think murder, even if used on bad people, is wrong. I don’t think the death penalty is very-” 

 “Shut up.” You said. He didn’t seem to care what you told him. 

 “And I thought this robe was Jason’s. We must’ve popped into the wrong apartment-” The man grumbled, still keeping his hands by his face. You narrowed your eyes at him. 

 “Jason?” You repeated. This man knew your boyfriend? You’ve already met everyone Jason knows. You. Case closed. The man raised a brow at you. 

 “Yeah, Jason Todd. You’ve met?” He seemed just as shocked as you that Jason knew other people. 

 “We’ve fucked so yes, I’ve ran into him a couple of times.” You snarked, snarling at him. His eyebrows shot up before he frowned. 

 “He doesn’t keep me updated on his relationships. I never know if he’s dating or not. How long have you been together?” He asked. You were unsure if you should tell him. Would Jason? No. 

 “Who are you?” You repeated. The man started up, giggling at himself. 

 “Where are my manners? Hi, I’m Dick, I’m Jason’s older brother.” He moved to walk across the room, holding his hand out for a handshake. You pressed your finger into the safety, the click bringing his attention back to the gun in your hands. He startled away from you, sucking in a gasp. 

 “Fucking hell.” He grumbled,  stepping away from you again. He turned around as he walked further from you. You hummed disapprovingly. Jason had a conniption every time you were practicing and turned your back on him. Absolutely never turn your back on someone dangerous. 

 “Your name is not Dick.” You glared. He turned back around, facing you again. 

 “It is. Dick, short for Richard.” You scoffed. 

 “Richie didn’t stand out to you? You had to go by your personality?” You quipped. He held up a finger, smirking at you. 

 “You’re not awful at word play, you’d be fun in a fight.” He giggled. You pressed your brows together. 

 “Are you aware of how a gun works?” You asked, uncertain if this man was an alien from Mars. Gun pointed at his chest, and this is his best behavior?

 “Yes, pull the trigger, I’m dead,” Richard grumbled. You hummed. 

 “Then I suggest you put on your best behavior. You need to leave my home now.” You stated. Richard pointed at the window. 

 “Jason’s right out the window. I’ll get him. He’ll tell you, I’m his brother.” Richard pleaded. You shook your head. You kept your eyes on him. 

 “Jay doesn’t have a brother. You dick. Well-” You groaned. “What’s your real name?” You asked. Richard frowned at you. 

 “Dick and Jason has multiple brothers,” Richard grumbled. You huffed. 

 “How many does he have then, Balls?” You asked, keeping your eye on your aim. You shouldn’t be entertaining these delusions. Jason told you not to. He also said the best way to make a criminal talk was to aim a gun at them and wait. Richard gave you a sad look. 

 “My name is Dick, not balls-” 

 “Well, you want to be named after a penis, so I’ll oblige your wishes.” You mocked. Richard glared at you. 

 “Give me a second, I have to count.” Richard lifted his head to the ceiling, his eyes flicking back and forth. You stayed silent as he mumbled. 

 “There’s me, and Tim…” He dropped his head down, meeting your eyes again. “Four, including Duke. Unless we are counting Damien’s pets, then we’ll be here awhile.” Richard said. You glared at him. 

 “I think I’d know if my boyfriend was a son of five.” Richard’s eyebrows shot up again, his mouth curving into a wholesome grin. He cupped his hands to his heart, tilting his head to the side like you were a baby animal taking their first steps. 

 “Boyfriend? That is so sweet. I know you’re holding a gun at me, but it is really a pleasure to meet you.” Richard said, cooing at you. You narrowed your eyes, really wishing you had enough reason to shoot him. Your morals were weary, but at the very least, you thought this Balls guy had to do something a little more egregious than lie to your face and break into your home to deserve death. 

 “Do you ever shut up, Balls?” You taunted. Richard tilted his head back and forth. 

 “Not really, and my name is Dick. I’d appreciate-” 

 “It is not Dick.” You grumbled.    “It is Dick.” Richard glared. You huffed. '

 “Why on earth would anyone name their son Dick?” You asked, feeling like Richard might be edging up close to you finally pulling the trigger. Richard broke into a wild grin like you just fell into his trap. 

 “‘Cause everyone loves dick.” Richard cheesed. You smirked. 

 “I’m sure you do.” You snarked. Richard brightened. 

 “I do-” Your eyes shot to the boots pushing through your window. Jason pulled himself through your window, straightening up. His red mask was still on, his hood pulled over his head. He tilted his head at you. 

 “Red Hood!” Richard shouted. You scoffed at him. Balls here is supposed to be Jason’s brother, but he doesn’t know who Red Hood is? Jason pulled at the hood before tugging his mask off. Richard slumped, huffing. Jason glanced over at Richard with his hands up in surrender. Jason grimaced. 

 “Hey, baby. I see you met Dick.” Jason said, approaching you like you holding a gun in your living room was casual. You stared at him. 

 “You know him?” You mumbled in shock. It was rhetorical, and Jason seemed to catch onto that. He reached for the gun in your hands, gently peeling it away from you. He turned the safety back on, setting it down on the coffee table. 

 “His name is really Dick?” You asked, making Richard scoff. Jason nodded, pulling your hands to his mouth and peaking the backs. 

 “Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson.” Jason clarified. Your mouth parted. Jason nodded more at your look. 

 “I know.” 

 “That’s- I mean- That’s so…” Your words failed you. Jason hummed in agreement, petting your arm. He must be antsy to hold you, but worried about the audience. Usually, when you got home, he’d pounce on you and hold onto you for hours. 

 “Crass.” You finished, shaking your head in astonishment. Dick glared at you. 

 “So when I say it over a million times, you call me Balls. When Jason says it, you believe him instantly?” Dick grumbled. Jason lifted his head, staring at Dick. He grinned, looking back at you. 

 “You called him Balls?” Jason’s voice was strained, like he was holding back absurd laughter. You yanked your hands from his, crossing your arms over your chest. 

 “You lied about your family! Dick and Balls here says you have four brothers!” You snapped. Jason pulled back from you. 

 “In my defense, when you asked, I was ostracized by my family. I only recently started talking to Dick.” Jason defended. You glanced at Dick resting on your couch his eyes ping ponging between the two of you. 

 “He’s wearing my robe!” You blurted, storming into the bedroom. Jason leaned down, taking the gun off the coffee table. Jason followed after you, shutting the door behind himself. 

 “You lied to me.” You sighed, turning your face from him. Jason sighed. 

 “I know.” 

 “You’re supposed to tell me things. We open up to each other and work through our issues together. I told you about my past. You trusted me enough to tell me you died and came back. I believed that, despite how insane it was! You told me you were fucking Red Hood. That was a tough pill, but I believed you. You didn’t bother to tell me you had brothers.” You rambled, shaking your hands back and forth. Jason listened as he returned the gun to its home. You really wanted to tear him a new one. Was there anything you could trust out of his mouth?    “What else have you lied  to me about?” You asked, finding his face again. Jason shook his head. 

 “Nothing. Nothing, I swear. I just didn’t think I’d ever see them again. I thought they were through with me.” Jason mumbled. His voice floated on a soft line, wavering when he met your eyes. You pressed your lips into a thin line. Jason held his hands out. 

 “And for what it’s worth, I thought I only had three. I know Dick, Tim, and Duke. I don’t know who this fourth one is. Unless we’re counting Dick twice or something.” Jason defended. You hummed. 

 “Dick mentioned a Damien.” You breathed, itching at your cheek. Jason furrowed his brows, staring at the ceiling. He shook his head, pointing his lips down. 

 “Nope. Never heard of him.” Jason stated. You sighed deeply. You stepped across the bedroom, slinking your arms around Jason’s waist. He wrapped his arms around you. You pressed your nose to his suit, inhaling the smell of him. Dirt, his cologne, a hint of blood. 

 “You need a shower.” You murmured into him. Jason hummed in agreement. You settled into comfortable silence. You felt your shoulders resting after finally getting the worries out in the world. 

 “My dad is Bruce Wayne,” Jason whispered. You paused, opening your eyes. Bruce Wayne? You startled away from Jason. 

 “Bruce Wayne! Millionaire Bruce Wayne? Sits in a castle on a hill at the top of Gotham, Bruce Wayne?” You stared at him with your jaw dropped. Jason grimaced, his face pinching. 

 “Billionaire Bruce Wayne. And he’s adoptive.” Jason offered. You pressed your palms to your cheeks. You stepped away from him, staring at the wall in disbelief. 

 “My life is a lie.” You mumbled to yourself. Jason sucked in a breath.    “Also, I lied about not being a virgin when we met. But I swear that’s all I lied about.” Jason said, sweeping his hands out in a line. You glanced at him. 

 “I already knew that.” Jason frowned at you. 

 “How? I didn’t tell you?” Jason asked. You grimaced, staring at him with a knowing look. Jason made a face, glaring at you. 

 “Okay. Enough.” You rolled your eyes at him. Jason held his hand out for yours. You grumbled at him as you dropped your hand into his. Jason tugged you closer, making your hips bump into him. 

 “Dick probably wants to stay for dinner,” Jason whispered, quickly jutting forward to press his lips to yours. You pulled from his kiss. You slipped from his hold, stepping into the living room. Dick was still sitting on the couch, only now he was awkwardly sitting on the edge. 

 “Were you eavesdropping?" You asked. Dick quickly shook his head.    “I would never!” Dick exclaimed. You glared as Jason joined your side. 

 “Damien is Bruce’s biological son. He’s about 12. His birthday is next month, you might consider getting him a dagger or something; he’ll tolerate you after that.” Dick said, looking to Jason. You snarled. 

 “You’re such a filthy liar, Balls.” You mumbled. Dick growled at you. You grimaced at him. 

 “You’re untrusting.” Dick countered. You nodded. 

 “Obviously. The world is psycho.” You glared at Dick as you walked past him to the kitchen. Dick glared back before looking to Jason. 

 “You two are a match made in hell,” Dick whispered. He held his hand up to hide his mouth from you. 

 “I heard that!” You yelled from the kitchen counter. Dick looked over his shoulder. 

 “You were supposed to!” Dick yelled back. Jason sighed, feeling a headache coming on. 

 “This is my own personal hell,” Jason muttered to himself, moving to join you in the kitchen. Dick kicked his feet onto your coffee table. 

 “I used all your shampoo, by the way,” Dick shouted to you, pulling the remote control for the TV off the table. You turned to face Jason. 

 “Jay, Love of my life, wind beneath my wings?” Jason looked up, slipping his arms around you. He hummed in response. 

 “If you want your brother to leave this apartment alive, you need to rehide all the weapons in this home.” You stated that you were feeling an eye twitch coming on. Jason pressed a kiss to your jaw. 

 “You know, I think we’re really going to grow fond of each other.” Dick sighed happily from the couch. You pressed your eyes tightly closed. You let out a shaky breath. Jason pressed his nose to your cheek. 

 “Really going to grow fond of tearing you from limb to limb.” You muttered under your breath. 

College dorms were expensive. An underrated solution is obviously renting an apartment near the college. Although apartments are also very expensive. The summer before your freshman year at your university, you found an apartment that came preinstalled with a roommate. You were not a prude, so you obviously started by telling him he can bring people back, just let you know before, so you can leave or turn up your music. Your roommate actually was going to a different university on the other side of town. Despite being in different schools, you both had very similar complaints. 

 Your friendship with Shinso had started tentatively. You weren’t sure if he’d even want to be friends or if he just wanted you to do your dishes, pay your rent, and ignore him. It started with offering to get him something when you ordered food. He usually said yes and was particularly precise with what he wanted. You knew he was going to University to become a Pro Hero, so you understood he was likely on a strict diet. However, it was hard to remember all the details sometimes, so you usually ended up just handing him your phone. 

Then you started to pause the movie you were watching when he got home and asked what he wanted to watch. Shinso initially had told you he didn’t want to interrupt your movie but would relinquish under very little pressure. This is how a roommate movie night every week had started. 

 In a few months, you and Shinso were proper friends. You ate together and talked through just about everything with each other. You knew about his family back home. He even showed pictures of his little sister, who was just so adorable. He told you about his friends at college, some of whom he’d known since High School. He told you about how he couldn’t picture his life without becoming a hero. He didn’t ever give you specifics on his quirk. You didn’t really care, truthfully. 

 What you cared about were the clothes. 

 You wanted to be a designer, specifically for Pros. Shinso, while being your friend, was a beautiful opportunity for you. You've got to learn about all his bothersome pet peeves with his equipment. You learned from his mouth all the things he needed in a costume. He just didn’t know it. You wished you did know his quirk so you could design more specifically for him, but details didn’t stop you. You had so many versions of the same costume, all highlighting the silhouette of your roommate’s body. 

 You weren’t weird, in the perverted sense of the word; your entire career was based around bodies and fabric. If you didn’t notice the way your roommate was absolutely beautiful jacked, then you weren’t good at your job. You also might’ve enjoyed looking at him for more perverted reasons, too, but you doubted there was someone on this planet who would call you crazy for it. 

 Shinso became Hitoshi as your friendship blossomed. With the first two years of college under your belt,  you genuinely couldn’t imagine where you would be without him. You exhaled as the extraordinarily flexible woman told you to on the screen, muttered about Cat-Cow being good for the heart, something something. 

 “10 sets of doggy backshots,” you mocked her voice, jumping at the sound of Hitoshi’s running shoes. You startled out of position, sitting with your knees pulled up and arms crossed. You face the door of your apartment, watching him set his shoes on the rack. He looked at you with an amused smile. 

 “Hello, Hitoshi. I was just sitting on the floor, nothing else.” You tried to be nonchalant, faking a yawn. Hitoshi rolled his eyes, walking towards you. There was still a sheen of sweat across his face. His shirt had darkened under his arms and down his back. He squatted in front of you, looking at the screen. 

 “I’ve done yoga. You don’t need to be weird. It’s good for you, keeps you limber. They recommend it at my school.” Hitoshi replied, reaching out to sympathetically rub your knee. You flicked your leg up, jokingly trying to kick him. Hotshi’s hand flew out before you could get close to jabbing him, catching your bare ankle. You both paused. Your mouth parted, looking to his face. He dropped your foot, giving you an almost embarrassed smile. 

 “I guess they do teach you something at hero school. I assumed you all just sat around talking about your favorite boring salad.” You joked, trying to lighten the mood. Hitoshi’s smile transformed from embarrassed to actual amusement. 

 “They do have Salad 101. I took it in high school, though.” Hitoshi replied blankly. You raised a brow, sitting forward. 

 “Wait, seriously?” Hitoshi grinned, making you sigh. You fell too easily into his dry humor. 

 “No. There’s no Salad 101.” He muttered, giggling to himself as he stood up. Hitoshi walked into his bedroom, leaving the door open. You followed after him, leaning against the frame. 

 “I have a date later, at six.” You said, watching his hands fumble through his dresser. Hitoshi glanced up, looking at you through his sweaty purple hair. 

 “Okay. You plan on bringing them back?” He asked, pulling out a black shirt. He pushed his drawer closed, opening up the one under it. You scoffed, rolling your eyes. 

 “I wouldn’t tell you about it if I didn’t plan on it.” You answered. Hitoshi stood up, giving you the same amused look he had when he walked into the apartment. 

 “What!” He shook his head. 

 “Now I know why you were doing yoga,” Hitoshi said, stepping past you towards your shared bathroom. He closed the door behind himself, leaving you in his bedroom with your mouth hanging open. You rolled your eyes, closing your mouth. You left the doorway, leaning close to the bathroom door. 

 “Okay, well, you better be out of the apartment by seven! Cause he really likes it when I do yoga!” You yelled through the wooden door. You could hear Hitoshi chuckling. He cracked the door, poking his eyes over the edge. 

 “Okay.” He closed the door, and the water to the shower started running a few minutes later. You clenched your jaw, spinning to head towards your own bedroom. You need to start slapping him; he was too attractive for his own good. 

 Your date sucked. Point blank period. 

 He wasn’t funny. He was in college, yet still refused to try for anything. He told you to your face that he was paying other people to do his work for him. Which you didn’t understand at all because now he was paying for college twice? He even told you he didn’t really like the way you dressed. And who asked him? Honestly. The only saving grace you were holding for him was that he was hot. Just one night with this man and you’d never speak to him again. Yes, you took him home. Of course, Hitoshi was sitting on the couch watching TV in the tightest shirt known to mankind. You led your boytoy into the kitchen, showing him where he could leave his leftovers for the next hour. Hitoshi paused his show, joining you two in the kitchen. He leaned against the kitchen counter, crossing his arms over his chest. He definitely wasn’t flexing at all. The wink he sent you was completely normal. 

 “Hitoshi, it’s 7.” You said. 

 “Oh. Is it? I lost track of time.” Hitoshi muttered, moving his eyes to the man you brought home. He was currently reading the back of your cereal box, licking cereal out of his hand. You grimaced, choosing to ignore it. The man lifted his eyes from the box, freezing when he saw Hitoshi. You swear his eyes almost bulged out. 

 “Dude! You’re huge! You’re jacked to hell, who is this guy?” You stared at him, wishing you owned duct tape so you could just cover his mouth. Fuck it, what does he need his hands for? As a matter of fact, you only wanted him here for one thing anyway; gagging his mouth wouldn’t be too bad at all. He waved a hand in front of your face, dissipating your fantasy.

 “My roommate. He’s training to be a Pro, so yeah, he’s-” You glanced down at Hitoshi’s stomach, finding his shirt practically sprayed onto each ab. You sucked in a deep breath, rubbing your arm to comfort yourself. “Massive. Anyway, he was supposed to be gone by now, but- He’s bad at listening.” You finished, tearing your eyes from Hitoshi. With his image more recent in your mind, this guy looked like a wet noodle. You sometimes forgot the genuine massiveness of him; you watched him grow from built to jacked over two years, so it was a very gradual change to watch. 

 “I’m leaving soon, I just forgot. I wanted to be introduced, I wouldn’t want my friend’s boy toy to not meet their roommate. How’d you meet? At university?” Hitoshi asked, uncrossing his arms to press his hands into the kitchen counter edge. The man’s brain seemed to be too small to notice the word boytoy. Yours wasn’t, a glare following Hitoshi. 

 “University? Oh, you’re fancy! I thought you were at community college.” He said, turning to look at you as he dropped another handful of cereal into his mouth. You furrowed your brows. 

 “I told you I was at a fine arts school in town.” You replied, annoyance lacing your tone. The man shrugged. 

 “I just thought that was fancy talk for community college.” 

 “What do you think I’m studying?” You asked, knowing you had told him very explicitly your career path over dinner. The man shrugged. 

 “Like arts, dude. You’re at an art school?” He replied as if you were an idiot for even asking such a question. You pulled the cereal box from his hands, closing it and putting it back in its place. 

 “Get out of my house, now.” You said, gracing him with a much more gentle tone than you wanted to give him. The man paused, looking between you and Hitoshi. Hitoshi jutted his head towards the door. The man quickly turned away, speed walking out of your apartment. You sighed when the door slammed shut. 

 “You suck.” You muttered. Hitoshi scoffed. 

 “He was stupid. You need better.” Hitoshi replied, pulling an apple from the wire bowl next to him. You glared at him, pulling open the fridge. 

 “I wasn’t going to keep him; I already knew he was stupid during the date. I just wanted a little fun. Forgive me.” You snatched the man’s leftovers, tossing them in the trash can. Hitoshi sank his teeth into the apple’s flesh, crunching as he talked with his mouth full. 

 “Forgiven. Why do you always hang out with losers? What do you see in them?” You rolled your eyes, leaning against the sink across from him. The kitchen was small enough that with you both leaning and your legs stretched, you had to share foot space. You caged one of his house shoes between your bare feet, watching him take another bite. 

 “A hook-up, Hitoshi. While we’re on the topic, why don’t you bring anyone home?” You asked, rolling your eyes at him. Hitoshi paused, swallowing his bite. He looked up from his apple, staring at your face. 

 “I brought Denki home. You like him, he’s cool.” Hitoshi offered, looking back at his apple. You frowned. 

 “Did you have sex with him?” You further raised a brow at him. Hitoshi froze, dropping his hand with the apple to his side. 

 “No, why? What did he tell you?” You bugged your eyes out, a moment of pure silence passing between the two of you. 

“Whoa, okay. We need to unpack that answer.” You stared at Hitoshi. He rolled his eyes, shifting in his leaning position. 

“Once-” 

“I knew it!” You yelled, jabbing your finger at him. “You guys had a vibe about you, but everyone said I was crazy. I knew-” Hitoshi leaned forward, getting closer to your face. 

“If you would let me finish!” He yelled back, making you stop talking and lean back against the counter again. 

 “Once, right before freshman year of college, we slept together. However, afterwards we agreed that we didn’t really want to be together, so we stayed friends. It was more for science than anything else.” Hitoshi muttered, bringing his apple to his mouth again. You scoffed. 

“Was that before or after I moved in?” 

“Before,” Hitoshi stated immediately. You nodded. 

“You haven’t brought anyone home to hook up. Or even a date.” You reached forward, taking the apple from his hands. You sank your teeth into it, taking a bite before handing it back. Hitoshi paused for a moment, staring at the apple to think. 

“I don’t-” He sighed through his nose. “I don’t work the way you do. I don’t want to fuck strangers. I only feel that way towards people I know.” You hummed, chewing through the flesh of the apple. 

“Demi.” 

“Yeah. I have to know them well to even really feel attracted to them like that. Now romantically? I’m a whore. Attraction that way is like-” 

“Immediate?” Hitoshi hummed in agreement. You both nodded, understanding passing between you two. He held the apple out, passing it off to your hand. Like two people sharing a smoke in an alleyway. 

“What is it that you do want? If not a loser, that is.” Hitoshi asked as you handed the apple off to him. You shrugged. 

“It’s hard to explain.” You started, pinching your lips into a tight line. 

“Try me.” 

“It’s really weird and specific.” You tried again. 

“Just tell me.” You sighed through your nose. 

“Whatever. I want-” You paused, shifting your eyes to the floor to stare at the peel-and-stick pattern you both laid down. It was crooked, but you remembered the loud and genuine laugh Hitoshi let out when he realized. 

“I want someone to tell me what to do. I don’t want to decide what I’m eating for dinner. I want someone to decide what I’m doing on the weekend and what I’m wearing. With my obvious creative desires fulfilled, as my life is clothes, but I digress. I want someone to tell me what we’re trying that night and when. I want someone who tells me when I’m being too loud or too weird. I want someone who-” You slammed your mouth shut, realizing you almost told your roommate far too much information about your sexual fantasies. “Never mind.” 

Hitoshi set the finished apple core on the kitchen counter, glaring at you. 

“Finish.” You shook your head. 

“It’s sexual, you don’t want to know that.” You replied, laughing through your words with embarrassment. Hitoshi scoffed at you. 

“Who told you that?” You quieted, staring at Hitoshi curiously. 

“Me.” Hitoshi pointed, see. 

“Just say it,” Hitoshi whispered, jutting his chin to his shoulder like it was the color of your socks you were discussing. 

“I have to take the lead a lot when I hook up with people-” You started. 

“Yeah, you sleep with idiots. That’s a side effect.” Hitoshi stated blankly. You closed your mouth, turning your head away from him. You stared at the wall, shaking your head. 

“Okay, I’m done. Continue, please.” Hitoshi said, sounding genuine. You looked back at him, opening your mouth to speak again. 

“I have to ask them out. I plan the date. I plan the hookup. I tell them what to do. I dominate them because it’s so much easier to get what I want when I just tell them. I don’t want a relationship like that. I want someone who pursues me. Someone who just likes me. I want someone who takes over sex, and I don’t have to tell them what I want; they know. And they give it to me. I want someone who plans the date, picks out my outfit, takes me home, and doesn’t even let me think in bed. I don’t have to think through anything; I can just enjoy my night. That’s what I want.” You finished, feeling your shoulders lighten. It really did feel nice to get it off your chest. 

“You want someone to control you?” Hitoshi asked, a snarl hiking up his top lip. “You’re far too brilliant to let someone else control you day in day out.” You shook your head, squishing your lips to the side. 

“I don’t really want them to control me all the time. I want someone who knows me so well that I don’t need to make decisions because they can make them for me. I want someone who still sees me as a respected partner, but I don’t have to tell them what I want all the time. As for sex, control in the sense I don’t want to overthink it. I want to just enjoy myself and have them decide for me. Obviously, I get to veto what’s happening if I want, but I just don’t want to make decisions constantly.” You explained, hoping he finally understood. Hitoshi nodded, his eyes falling to the floor. 

“I understand.” You hummed, feeling a bit awkward now. 

“What do you want?” You returned the question, making Hitoshi lift his head. 

“Don’t know. Unrelated, do you know what my quirk is?” He tilted his head to the side, making you sputter in confusion. 

“No, you never told me.” You answer. Stupid fucking question, Hitoshi. He made a face at you, mocking your answer. 

“They write articles about me, maybe you read one.” He tried to explain his question. You shook your head. No, still stupid. 

“I can literally just talk to you. Why would I care about a random journalist talking about you?” You asked. Hitoshi glared at you. 

“Whatever. It’s very invasive, and people like to talk about it a lot. Kids were bullies, people were scared of me, blah blah, it’s all very boring background stuff.” Hitoshi said, sighing as if just talking about it bored him. 

“Oh fuck off, boring background stuff.” You rolled your eyes. “What is it?” He paused, thinking through whether he really wanted to tell you. 

“Mind control.” Your eyebrows shot up. You hummed. 

“That is, absolutely crazy. I didn’t even know that was a thing. How does it work?” You tilted your head to the side, staring at him with furrowed brows. He grumbled, standing up straight and crossing his arms over his chest. 

“If I ask someone a question after they answer, it grants me access into their mind, and I can make them do anything.” He explained, dropping his eyes. You glanced at the wall, thinking through any other lingering questions you might have. 

“Have you used it on me?” You asked. Hitoshi shook his head almost immediately. 

“No. I only use it during hero stuff. It’s invasive. I wouldn't use it on someone out of work.” You pushed yourself off the kitchen counter, standing in the living room area. 

“Have you ever thought about using it on me?” You stared at him with the kitchen bar between you both. He leaned over the countertop, intertwining his fingers together. 

“Yes. I wouldn’t without- I wouldn’t.” You squinted at him. 

“When did you want to use it?” 

“Which time?” You paused at Hitoshi’s words. You felt like your legs were going to fail under you. This was a lot of information to take in all at once.

“How many-” 

“I’ve lost track. It's usually just wanting to know how you think of me.” Hitoshi said, tacking on his explanation quickly after seeing the look on your face. 

“You don’t know?” Hitoshi slowly shook his head, his eyes flickering away from you. 

“I do, I just- have worries sometimes. Maybe I’m weirding you out. Maybe I’m reading things wrong. Maybe I’m scaring you-” 

“Hitoshi.” You stated, silencing him. He hung his head, staring at the pattern of the kitchen countertop. You walked back into the kitchen, running your hand up his arm to his shoulder. You buried your hand in his hair, pulling his head back. You made him look at you properly. 

“I love you. You’ve been my best friend for years. You’re not going to weird me out or scare me. Don’t worry about that.” You punctuated your sentence with a light rub on his back. He nodded. He didn’t return the comment, but you knew him well enough. It wasn’t an insult; his mouth just turned dry sometimes. You both sat in silence as your hand rubbed back and forth on his back.

You weren’t sure what he was thinking about, but you knew what you were. Mind control. Fascinating. How could you possibly let him tell you that's his quirk and not make him tell you more? You wanted to know the inner workings so bad. What were his limits? How many people? For how long? Can he change memories too? Has he ever used it in a kinky way? Why would you ask yourself that question about your roommate? Because he’s hot, duh. Right. 

“Would you use it on me?” You blurted out, making him raise a brow. 

“Are you asking hypothetically, or are you asking me to?” Hitoshi was calm. Of course he was. This wasn’t the first time he thought about using it on you. 

“Hypothetically.” 

“Not unless you asked me to.” 

“I’m asking you to.” Hitoshi’s eyebrows shot up at your answer, startled at the speed and bluntness with which you replied. 

“Are you sure?” He asked. You nodded, already getting a giddy feeling spurring in your chest. Hitoshi shook his head, pushing himself off the kitchen counter. He leaned into your face, pressing his thumb under your bottom lip. He pulled down, opening your mouth. 

“Are you sure?” He repeated. You felt a small grin pull at your lips. 

“Yes.” A warm fog washed over your mind. It quieted the constant train of thought that chugged and the odd song that kept repeating for a week straight. You felt like there was hot water dripping down your body, the fog reaching down to your fingers and legs. Your mind was quiet like drizzling rain on a water lily pond. You were calm, but not empty. You still felt your heart beating and still felt your brain thinking. It was soft, though, unlike usual. Your thoughts were gentle, and it wasn’t the usual rushing spiral. You raised your eyes to Hitoshi, feeling a delicate smile spread across your lips. You could hear his voice in your head. Your eyes dipped to his mouth, only to find it sealed shut. As you turned away from him, you understood. He told you to sit on the couch, but your body was moving on its own. You settled into the couch, turning your head towards him. He was still standing at the kitchen counter, watching you. Slowly, the warmth left you. It almost felt hesitant, like he was scared of what would happen afterwards. You let out a breath, glancing around at your position again. Hitoshi walked away from the kitchen, standing closer to you. 

“That was nice.” You muttered, still a little astonished. Hitoshi squinted at you. 

“That I didn’t force you to kill someone? Or something else villain-like?” He asked. You made a face, stupid question again. 

“The feeling. I liked it. I don’t know.” You clarified, feeling like you were a babbling idiot halfway through. Hitoshi snorted, walking around the coffee table to slump into the couch next to you. You stared at the show he left paused, ignoring the words and pictures. You mind was elsewhere. 

You wanted more. You wanted him to do it again. You wanted more of him. You probably did for a long time, but you knew for certain you wanted it now. You turned on the couch, sitting sideways and pulling your legs underneath you. Hitoshi startled at your sudden move, turning his head. 

“Toshi…” You whispered, feeling your attraction make you forget the sentence you had planned. Hitoshi sat up straight, shaking his head. 

“No, don’t Toshi me. I can’t handle it. Don’t say it, whatever it is.” Hitoshi said, closing his eyes so you couldn’t give him puppy eyes. You reached forward, turning his head to face you. 

“Toshi.” You repeated, solid this time. Hitoshi opened his eyes, staring at you. 

“What?” He said, pathetically. He knew he lost. Whatever you wanted, you were getting. You leaned forward, knocking your nose into his cheek. Hitoshi let out a small gasp, finally catching up. You nodded against him, lips hovering over his. Hitoshi tilted his chin up, brushing his lips against yours. It was hardly a kiss, more of an accidental tap. You couldn’t care less. You lurched forward, pulling him into a proper kiss. His hand found the back of your head, pushing you deeper into his mouth. A scattered moan left your chest. You broke the kiss just barely, a breath huffing out of Hitoshi’s mouth. 

“Toshi.” You whispered against his lips. He shook his head, meeting your lips again. He was gentle but needy. He was an odd combination of rushed and slow. He pushed your head against him roughly, his fingers pressing into your scalp. Yet his lips were soft and slow against yours. He was taking his time to savor it, but he couldn’t stand the idea of you pulling away. You threw your arm over the back of his neck, pulling him closer. You leaned backward, pulling him down with you. His other hand found the center of your shoulders, slowly easing you down onto the couch. He pulled himself between your legs. His hand slipped from your back, catching under your knee. Hitoshi tugged you closer by your leg, making you break the kiss with a moan. He pulled away, huffing and opening his eyes. He searched your face, taking in every centimeter. 

“Do it again.” You said. Hitoshi grinned, his teeth flashing in the light of the TV. 

“Why?” He muttered. 

“I want you to.” You answered. The familiar warmth washed over you, and your eyes rolled back. Your brain quieted, his fog taking over all the stresses and worries that plague every move you make. He pressed a slow kiss under your jaw as his control slowly spread throughout your entire body. Hitoshi pulled away from your kiss, giving you space to breathe. You watched him with lazy eyes, the only attraction floating behind your eyes. 

‘Take me to your room.’ His voice echoed in your head, mouth sealed. You pulled yourself off the couch, your hand sticking out for Hitoshi. He took it, following as you led him to your room. He sat on the edge of your bed, making you stop and stand in front of him. Your hands moved from your sides to the buttons running down your shirt. Your heart stuttered at the movement. His warmth slipped from your mind instantly. You groaned, hating how cold it was after every time he did that.  You lifted your eyes from your buttons, the fog clearing behind them. You glared at Hitoshi. 

“Is this what you want?” Hitoshi muttered, dipping his gaze to your barely unbuttoned shirt. You thought for a moment, thinking through your current feelings. You grinned, pushing another button out of its hole. Hitoshi sucked in a deep breath as your hands made quick work of your shirt buttons. 

“You’re quick,” Hitoshi muttered in astonishment. You dropped the ironed material from your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. You took a step closer to Hitoshi, his knees knocking into your hips. He spread his legs for you without comment. His hands found the sides of your thighs, rubbing them through the material of your pants. You held the back of his neck, tilting his head back to look up at you. 

“Ask me a question, Toshi.” You stated, making him simper. Hitoshi shook his head knowingly, giving you shit for liking it. You sighed impatiently, reaching for the button of your pants. Hitoshi tutted, pulling your hands away. 

“Is this what you want?” Hitoshi breathed. You leaned forward, lightly pressing your lips against his. Hitoshi chased after your lips as you pulled away, keeping his eyes slammed shut. 

“Yes.” The calm rain tapping the water lily petals was back. You smirked as his control made you take a step back from him. Your hands found the button of your pants again, pulling the zipper down. You kept your eyes on him as your hands pulled them down, moving on their own. Hitoshi closed his eyes. Your hands glided up your thighs. They ran up your abdomen to your chest, fingers gently finding your nipples. Hitoshi raised his lashes, gazing at you with such lust you felt your heart stutter. Your legs moved before your brain could follow the plan. Hitoshi spread his knees for you again, pulling you closer to him. He wrapped his arms around your hips, pressing his fingertips into the flesh of your ass. Your head tilted down, breath hovering over Hitoshi’s lips. You felt his control slip just slightly. His fog still coated you, but you felt your body return to your own power. You wasted no time in meeting his lips. He moaned at your ferocity. You pulled at his hair, tilting his head back. 

His fog washed over you again, taking complete control of you. He slowed your kiss, making your lips move with gentleness. You hummed in approval, enjoying whatever he wanted from you. His hands slipped from your hips, hooking underneath both your knees.  He pulled you from the floor, laying you on the bed next to him. Your mouth parted with a gasp at the speed at which he moved you. He refused to break your kiss, recapturing your lips. You huffed, too far past caring to be ashamed. Hitoshi pulled back, focusing on your body. You moved onto your stomach, crawling up the bed to your pillows. Hitoshi made you roll onto your back, staring at him. He stood at the bottom of the bed, pulling at the hem of his shirt. He pulled it over his head, flinging it to the floor. 

‘He’s massive. What the hell. How is it possible there’s still muscle hiding underneath his tight ass shirt?’ You thought, glancing up at his eyes. Hitoshi pressed his knee into the mattress, hovering over you on the bed. 

“You think I’m massive?” Hitoshi whispered, smiling knowingly at you. You felt your face warm, embarrassment making you turn your head away from him. Hitoshi clicked his tongue, your head turning back without him touching you. 

“Answer.” You felt your tongue in your mouth fall from his control, your speech regifted. 

“Maybe.” Hitoshi tilted his head, demanding a better answer. 

“Do you?” 

“Yes.” You answered, rolling your eyes. Hitoshi dipped his head under your chin, kissing your neck. You sighed heavenly, rolling your head against your soft pillows. Hitoshi’s control took over your hips, peeling them from the mattress. His fingers slipped under the band of your underwear, tugging them down. With your hips lifted, your underwear was discarded in seconds. 

When he returned to you in bed, his pants were off. His legs were just as fascinatingly built as his arms, but you had other plans. He pulled you into his lap, your ankles crossing behind his back with his control. He kissed you roughly, you both messily moaning into it. He licked at your mouth, your tongue meeting his through the fog in your mind. You tilted your head, deepening the kiss. 

Hitoshi pressed his hands under your thighs, pulling your hips up. He broke the kiss, letting you rest your head against his shoulder. He hung his head as he focused between your legs. He lined himself up with you, lifting his head again. The calm warmth washed away from you entirely. You whined, feeling like you might freeze now. You tugged him closer to you by his neck, trying to gain any friction you could. Hitoshi groaned, tilting his head from your hold. 

“You okay?” Hitoshi whispered against the shell of your ear. You huffed, pulling away from his shoulder. 

“Yes. Please, just-” You paused, glaring at Hitoshi. He rolled his eyes, pouting at your look. “Please, keep going.” Hitoshi nodded, a chill running up your spine followed. His voice echoed in your mind as your body slowly lowered onto his dick. You moaned, making him pause halfway through. His control flickered like he couldn’t hold onto it. You reached forward, digging your fingers into his shoulders. You tugged him closer and pressed your cheek into his hair. Hitoshi ran his hands up your back, sending a trail of goosebumps against your skin. He pressed his nose to your shoulder, breathing heavy against you. You lowered yourself further down onto him. Hitoshi squirmed, his hair brushing against your chin. You huffed as you finally welcomed his full length inside of you. Hitoshi whined against your chest. You felt full with him pressed to you. 

He wasn’t the first dick you ever had, but you’d be at peace if he was the last. Initially, you thought maybe this was a one-time thing, but you were unsure if you could give him up. He fit so perfectly inside of you, you were sure he was a cosmic gift. You slid your hand across the line of his shoulder, finding the back of his neck. You dug your hands into the hair there. You had to hold onto something to make sure this wasn’t heaven. Hitoshi tilted his head back, staring at you with his mouth parted. His eyes were blown so wide you were sure you could see stars. 

“Ready?” His voice huffed out. His fingers dug into your back.

“Yes.” You groaned, pulling on his hair as some kind of retaliation. It seemed to backfire on you, as he only moaned. His presence flooded your body again, coating every part of your brain. Hitoshi pressed his hands into your back as your hips moved on their own. He was tentative initially, making you drag your way up and then back down slowly. His tip ran down the sides of your warmth. Just as you felt him pull almost entirely from you, he pushed back into you. His length hit every part of you that always ended up untouched by your hookups. 

Your brain tended to run from you, especially during sex. You had to consider every possible problem in your life. You had to think about the levels of laundry in your hamper as a man slid through your folds. You had to think about your grocery list as someone lapped at your nipples. There was just something about the intimacy that made your mind pull up any mundane thought. It constantly pulled you from the moment. You’d end up staring blankly at the person hovering over you as you considered what Hitoshi would want for dinner. 

But with him covering every part of you, all you could feel was the pleasure that was rocking over you. You didn’t focus on the number of thrusts or what song the pattern reminded you of. All you felt was Hitoshi moaning against your shoulder and the squeezing warmth pulling between your legs. Hitoshi stared at you as your head turned from his voice in your brain. You looked down at him, watching his face as he pushed in and out of you. 

He looked heavenly. You wanted this to be your view forever. His hair was pulled in odd directions, your hands and his sweat doing irreparable damage. His mouth was parted as he gasped over and over again every time you fully enveloped him again. His eyes were shining with unearthly pleasure, with his eyebrows pushed together. You doubted you looked anything more than blissed out. Your brain felt so perfectly quiet. Hitoshi’s hand drifted from your back, softly traveling over your side and down your stomach. His hand dipped between your legs, circling your clit. 

You gasped at the contact. You could feel his cock dragging your heartbeat closer together. His circles woke up a new part of your body, teaching you what it felt like to really crest heaven. You arched into him, tugging his head closer to your heart. You could feel your pleasure in some sort of physical form. You could feel it rolling out from your center and twirling around your legs. You were certain it was pressing Hitoshi closer to you. He pressed his mouth to your collar, wetly licking at it. Your hips were rolling together faster. Hitoshi pulled your skin into his mouth, sucking hard. 

You felt your muscles pulling in towards your center. Your legs wrapped around Hitoshi’s back, pulling him closer. You felt the precipice building up, your fingers digging into Hitoshi’s skin. This was typically where your brain went haywire, leading you down unneeded paths. Hitoshi pulled himself from your shoulder, looking at your eyes again. His hips were moving rapidly, chasing both your highs. 

“Toshi, please.” You whined. Hitoshi squeezed his eyes shut, his head dropping down. He watched the way you so easily took his full length, disappearing and reappearing so quickly. Hitoshi’s fingers started sloppily running over your clit, begging for your release. You finally felt your release crash into you. You dropped your head back, your spine arching into Hitoshi. His hands pressed into your back, supporting you as you moaned. Your legs squeeze around Hitoshi, like your body knows he’s the only person who could ever make you feel this way. Hitoshi pulls himself from you, your release pushing him to his limit. His cum spurts from his dick, coating your stomach. You don’t move from your arched position as you come down from your high. 

An outrageously loud knock against your front door pulls you both from the heat thick between you two. It makes Hitoshi jump so bad that his control slips from you. The cold room meets you again, coating your burning skin in ice. You whine and slide yourself closer to Hitoshi. His cock presses against your stomach as you hide your face in his neck. 

“Toshi.” You groan, so incredibly annoyed you didn’t even get to fully ride out your orgasm before he was pulling his heaven-sent quirk from you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders. Hitoshi rubbed your back in small circles. 

“Oh, I know, baby. ‘M sorry.” Hitoshi whispered back. He was cooing at you, gently pulling your head back. He stared at your face, brushing away a drop of sweat at your temple. You grinned at him, tipping forward to press your lips to his. 

Another loud knock made you groan. Hitoshi pulled away from your kiss, staring over your shoulder. How badly did he want to answer? 

“Hey, It’s Bryce! I think I left my leftovers in there!” Yelled the unforgettable voice of your boytoy. Hitoshi pulled back, staring at you with a questioning look. 

“Bryce?” You shrugged. 

“I didn’t even listen when he said his name.” You admitted, shaking your head. Hitoshi hummed. 

“Can you get it? Please.” You whined, puckering your lip out. Hitoshi shook his head. 

“It’s your boy toy, not mine.” He countered. You tilted your head to the side. Oh no. 

“Toshi, please.” You whispered, pressing into him. Hitoshi scoffed. He could see your look of pleasure as you whispered out his name again. You quirked a brow at the feeling of his dick waking up again against your stomach. The nickname already had so much power over him before you ever hooked up. You were never losing an argument after this again. Hitoshi glared at your look. He cradled the back of your head. Hitoshi turned, gently pressing you into the mattress. He reached behind himself, unhooking your legs from him. 

“I’ll just pop in and out!” Brad yelled from the door. Was it Brad? Hitoshi pressed a kiss to your cheek as he pulled away from you. You made a whiny noise, dragging your hand down his arm as he left the room. Hitoshi could see himself spending a week straight pulling orgasm after orgasm from you. How long had it been since someone made you feel the way he did? How much time did he have to make up for? 

“I’ll be quick!” Brent’s voice said, muffled by the locked door. Hitoshi tucked his hips behind the door as he peeled it open. He poked his head out and pressed his arm on the edge of the door frame. He did it for balance, definitely not to remind Blake how much muscle Hitoshi had over him. Boytoy grinned as the door opened. His smile fell as he saw Hitoshi poke his head out. 

“Oh, hey, man. I left my food in the fridge. Can I grab it?” He asked, pointing over Hitoshi’s mountainous shoulder. Hitoshi grimaced. 

“Yeah, we tossed that out.” He said, frowning at the man. He wasn’t really sad. Yet he didn’t want to be too much of an asshole to this guy. It wasn’t really his fault he was so stupid. 

“Oh, well, can I say bye or-” Hitoshi kissed his teeth. He bent his arm, scratching at his hair. He flexed before he dropped his hand back. Blane’s eyes dropped to the bulging muscle before they flicked back to Hitoshi’s face. 

“Sorry, we’re a little busy,” Hitoshi muttered before closing the door and relocking it. He didn’t waste time getting back to you. You had sat up and crossed your legs while he was gone. Hitoshi joined you on the bed, kissing the hickey he left. 

“You didn’t have to tell him we were busy. You could’ve said I went to bed. I think he got the message when you answered the door naked.” You grumbled. Hitoshi shook his head. He leaned closer to you, his nose brushing your cheek. 

“I think I did.” He muttered before meeting your lips. You sighed into his kiss, your hand coming up to hold onto the side of his face. Hitoshi regretfully pulled back just barely, a breath between the two of you. 

“Round 2?” He asked. You grinned against his mouth. 

“Yes.” The quiet rain washed over you, your brain going quiet. 

In two days, Hitoshi woke up early for his classes. When he went into the kitchen to make his morning smoothie, he found a Pro Hero suit design with his name on it hung on the fridge. Hitoshi grinned at it as he pulled out his strawberries. 

key

Fluff

Angst

Mature

Porn

Charlie Dalton

Ridgeway High wasn’t nearly as bad as it seemed. There was plenty of ongoing drama that made people’s jaws drop and you had plenty of fun learning about it. Often there was overlap with Welton Academy. Many of Ridgeway students knew Welton students. They mingled with each other frequently. The students went to the activities put on by the other schools. Welton showed up for Ridgeway sports, and Ridgeway showed up for Welton theater shows. 

You started dating Charlie Dalton after he ran into you as you were leaving Ridgeway High. He was chasing after Knox but once he saw you, he knew he was exactly where he was supposed to be. You two clicked immediately. His friends were introduced to you. It was you and Charlie that was the dream they all wished for. Was it a love like the one between you two? You sent him letters frequently and he wasn’t ashamed to show that the words meant a lot to him. Sometimes you tried your hand at poetry after he sent you plenty of the ones he wrote. You didn’t know it, but he usually read them in the cave, so all the boys knew you had a silver tongue. 

That all came to a halt, like all good things from Welton Academy did, with Neil’s death. Charlie’s expulsion came almost immediately after. He knew his parents were on their way. A new school had likely already been picked out, if not he knew his aunt’s house three states over was waiting for him. He wouldn’t see Welton again. He wouldn’t see this town again. His parents moved faster than gossip it seemed. He wasn’t going anywhere without saying goodbye to you. It was likely you hadn’t even heard about Neil yet. He glanced around the school parking lot. Charlie’s feet started moving before he decided he needed to. 

You spent the morning like usual, shower breakfast simple hobbies, and a lunch with your friends over for a study group. You had wished your two friends safe travels in the snow an hour ago, finally resting on the couch alone. You peeled open the book in your lap, scanning over the words. You jolted at the rash knock on your door. You stood, slowly making your way to the door. The knock roughly sounded on your door again. You groaned. You swung the door open, staring at the sight of Charlie. He was a complete mess. 

His hair was misplaced, his chest was heaving, his eyes were rimmed with red. You furrowed your brows. Charlie slipped past you, standing behind you as you closed the door. 

"Do you know?” Charlie asked, huffing. You chuckled at the absurdity, rolling your eyes. 

“The muffin man?” You cracked, your laughter falling at Charlie’s scolding look. 

“Neil,” Charlie stated, his voice breaking before he could finish the sentence. 

"What about him?” You asked, tilting your head. Charlie stepped forward, cupping your cheeks. 

“Last night, he shot himself. He’s dead. I’m being expelled. I won’t see you again.” Charlie rushed like the cops were at your fence. Your heart sank. You furrowed your brows, staring at him in disbelief. 

“What!” 

“It’s not the first time I’ve been in trouble; my parents already have a plan for when I get into something like this. They knew it would happen eventually. They’re taking me to my aunt. She lives hours and hours away. She’s got a ten-foot stick up her ass. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t be able to see you.” You shook your head. 

“No, Charlie. Neil, he’s fine. I mean we saw him just yesterday.” You muttered. Charlie nodded. He pulled you forward pressing a kiss to your forehead. You wished you were back in your bed before any of this ever happened. 

“I promise you, no matter how far I am, it’s you. Do you understand?” Charlie asked, pulling back to stare into your tearful eyes. You nodded. 

“It’s you, I swear.” He repeated. The engine of a car rumbled outside. The door squeaked on its hinges before a loud bang sounded at the front door of your house. You glanced over at it, staring at it in horror. That was Charlie’s parents certainly. They knew you were together. They knew if he wasn’t at school he was here. Charlie pressed his finger into your cheek, making you look at him again. He gently pressed his lips to yours, ignoring the salty taste of your tears. He was desperate to be anywhere else. Charlie wasn’t even sure if he would ever see you again or ever get over you. Another loud knock thundered next to you. You buried your hands into the button-up of his school uniform. 

Charlie slowly pulled away, licking his lips like he was savoring the last bit of his dinner. He wiped at your tears, taking one step back. You stayed frozen in your spot, staring at him as he walked towards the door. His steps were slow like the bottoms of his shoes were coated in tar. Charlie moved with his eyes stuck to you. He pulled open the front door, finally breaking his look. His father stood at the door. You watched Charlie as he deftly walked to the car, slipping into the backseat. 

Years on years have passed. As unfortunate as it is, Charlie’s image slipped from your mind. He was remembered as much as an old jacket was. You sometimes saw the outline of a stranger's face and thought back to the nights in the cave you spent tracing the features of Charlie’s face. Even though you dated a short list of others, something was still missing. You suppose you just weren’t totally the person who enjoyed dating. You found much more enjoyment in your work than in strangers' mouths. 

Sleep was still stealing your focus from the menu hanging above the barista’s head. You yawned and shook your head in disappointment. You muttered an apology before finally relaying your order to her. She gave you a brief smile as you handed over the cash. As you turned away from the counter and towards the seating area, someone called out your name. It was too often for your happiness that a coworker caught you before you even got to work. You plastered on a customer service smile and turned around. Your eyes didn’t find a coworker but instead found a face that was lightly pulling at recognition. Your mouth dropped open when the bell finally rang. 

“Charlie?” You asked, taking a step forward. He pulled his hands from his coat pockets and smiled. 

”The one and only. It’s been forever.” Charlie muttered, dropping his eyes to the floor to take one full sweep up and down of you. You gave him a knowing look. 

“Still a lustful bastard I see.” You jabbed, leaning against a nearby empty table. Charlie paused in his look, frowning at you. 

“How long has it been?” Charlie asked. You stared at the ceiling as you did the math. 

“14 years.” Charlie let out a low whistle. You nodded in agreement. 

“Long time. Where have you been? What do you do for work now?” You asked. You knew his parents had plans for him but you hoped anything other than banking would come out of his mouth right now. Charlie’s smile lost a bit of its color. 

“I’m an accounting manager. It’s actually a pretty high position, especially considering my age but-“ 

“It’s what your parents wanted.” You finished. Charlie let out a sigh through his nose. 

“I learned to live with it. And I do a little volunteer work at community theaters. Simple things, budgets, advertising, things like that.” Charlie said. A flash of pain squeezed at your heart. You knew exactly why Charlie wanted to volunteer at theaters and not anywhere else. Neil.

Silence passed between the two of you. You lifted your eyes from the floor, staring at Charlie with a billion questions swarming under your eyes. Charlie still had a smile on his face, only it was small and simple. Not the usual bright dazzling one he had. 

“I’ve learned to live with it. He’s not here. It’s okay. I see a hundred young faces like his walk through the theater doors every day. I make sure they all have the money for a costume and a set. It’s what I can do now to ease the pain of the past; help the future.” Charlie said with a tone as strong as a brick wall. You nodded, a joke in your mind making you snort before you even said it. 

“All those nights in the cave sure did silver your tongue a bit, Mr. Dalton.” You whispered. Charlie grinned, huffing a laugh. You watched him as he unbuttoned his coat. The warmth of the coffee shop was finally getting to him. You hated that your eyes dropped to his left hand immediately. You hated the relief that followed the absence of a ring even more. 

“So, did your parents finally get you together with that girl they lined up for you all those years ago?” You asked. Of course, it was to know more about him but really you wanted to know if you had a slim chance or no chance. Charlie snorted. 

“Right to the point, as always.” You glared at Charlie. 

“As I recall, you loved my bluntness in high school.” You countered. Charlie tilted his head to the side. 

“I didn’t need much foreplay in high school, your bluntness usually worked in my favor.” The wrinkly old man behind Charlie glared at him as he walked past. Charlie looked over his shoulder, startled and stepping away from the old man. He leaned on the table next to you, lowering his voice. 

“A bit judgmental for 7 am.” 

“I don’t think it’s exactly proper to mention foreplay in a public coffee shop before 9 am” You whispered back. Charlie sighed. 

“Well, clearly some people don’t know how to party.” You rolled your eyes. 

“But to finally answer your question, no Diane pretty much was out of the question after Neil. Specifically, after I decided to rebel against the school and my parents. I ignored my mother’s persistent requests for grandkids by focusing on my work. Though I will say, very few days went by when I wasn’t thinking about you. Especially in my early years.” Charlie finally replied. 

“Really?” 

“I made a promise to you 14 years ago. At the time I planned to keep it. As time went by I thought I was waiting for a day that wouldn’t come. No matter who I dated something was wrong with the relationship. I had too much to catch them up on. Even if I did it was like I was missing a part of me. I don’t think I’ve been happy in a relationship since you. Not a single part of me wishes to go back to that time, I could never relive going to bed ignorant that night and waking up in horror. However, a relationship with you, that’s something I’d give a second shot to.” 

“Charlie-“ 

“That’s why I’m town. I was staring at my clock in my office and I realized. Carpe Diem. What the hell am I doing sitting in my office daydreaming about a possible day when I could buy the damn plane ticket? Hours later in a very uncomfortable plane seat, fifteen minutes in a friend’s car, and I’m standing with you now.” You stared at him as he caught his breath. You felt a playful smile pull on your lips. It was an old look that you haven’t felt in years. Charlie’s eyes left yours to dip down to your lips. 

“Charlie, I don’t think you’ve changed a lick since Welton.” You said, watching as chuckle left his chest. He rolled his eyes, inching his hand towards yours on the table. 

“You still smile the same as you did before you tore me to shreds,” Charlie whispered. The old man seemed to find a fascinating dissatisfaction with you two. He glanced over again with pure disgust. 

“You liked it.” 

“Obviously. Praying mantises were my favorite insect as a child.” Charlie paused, sucking in a tight breath. He pulled at the strip of buttons down the front of his shirt. 

“Jeez it’s hot in here, do you feel hot?” Charlie asked, waving at his face. 

“Not real-“ 

“Do you maybe want to get out of here? So you’re less hot, of course.” Charlie finished. You swallowed down a grin, clicking your tongue. You’ve been had. 

“That was good. You caught me while my guard was down. There won’t be a second time.” You pulled your eyes from Charlie as the Barista called your name. You walked to the counter and took your drink, meeting Charlie again. He seemed disappointed, you seemed to have no intention of leaving. 

“So your hotel or my place?” You asked. Charlie grinned, stepping away from the table. He slung his arm around your shoulders, puffing his chest out. 

“Your place, I haven’t gotten a hotel room quite yet,” Charlie said. You nodded. 

“Maybe hold off on that. I think I’ll want you all to myself for a few days.” Your words made Charlie raise a brow. 

“I might’ve been wrong about not needing much foreplay in the past. I think it’s just with you.” 

Key

Fluff

Angst

Mature

Porn

Carmen

You were not popular in high school. You hardly talked to many people. You had a set number of people you grew close to. You were praised for your writing. Frequently. It was something Carmen noticed.

He noticed a lot about you. He sat behind you in your Senior English class. He sat at the table behind yours in Sophomore Chemistry. His back was towards yours in that class, but he memorized your laugh. You both shared an art class in Senior year, too. Carmen knew who you were long before you knew who he was. You greeted him as if you had never seen him before in your art class. He had to remind you that he had been sharing classes with you for years.

Carmen started the year hating you. You were too cocky. You giggled when people insulted your art. Its tone was screaming, ‘No, you’re just too stupid to understand it.’ You shrugged when your shared English teacher bowed their head down to your desk. You had this knowing grin before they even talked, like you knew they were going to say your writing was stunning. Your essay was outstanding. You thought about the offered passage in a way the rest of their students didn’t. All that was pushed away with your grin.

When you stood up for presentations, people laughed when you spoke. You’d chuckle with them. Then your eyes would shift around the room like you were looking for why they laughed. You were so funny, you didn’t even know it. You always had the perfect clothes. He could tell every morning you woke up and put effort in, enough to make yourself look complete.

Then, on the 14th of December, you stopped him on his way into art. You said you were mad at him because he didn’t wave back. How dare he? You greeted him. Carmen laughed it off and was astonished that you were even talking to him.

Damn you. Damn you for giving him that small morsel of attention and sparking his foul consuming desire for you. You were all he could think about for months. All he wanted was to catch your eyes again. To grab your attention. For you to just look at him and think he was the only one in the room.

His crush on you ebbed and flowed. It was like once you were out of his sight, he didn’t feel anything for you. Over Winter and Spring Break, he lost it. You slipped from his mind as the days passed. You’d only coat his mind once or twice a day by the end of the break. Then by the time he was back in class, any glance at you and it came right back. It washed completely over him, eating up every other part of his brain. It was astonishing how quickly you could become everything again when he really didn’t like you before you stopped him in art.

He thought for sure you’d be going to a prestigious school he had never heard of. Somewhere you’d go, and all those little giggles and chuckles of your self-assuredness would pay off. Some professors would teach you every word you needed to know, and you’d fall in love with the English language all over again. You’d write something so magnificent your professor would cry in your arms. You’d go to Magic-Land, and he’d stay right here in your shared hometown.

Your desk had been spun around to face his by the teacher. Group projects and all that. The desks were pushed together into groups of four. You didn’t really talk to him, just whispering with your friend next to you. Until the classmate next to him brought up college. You asked him before you said where you were going. He was certain you’d say a name so astonishing he wouldn’t even recognize it. He whispered the name of the local community college because he knew he wanted something bigger. He wanted to say the name and impress you. You lifted your eyes from the page in front of you. You smiled and nodded.

“Yeah, me too.” And he knew his life was over.

If you were going to the same college as him, he would never escape you. You would have this power over him until the day he dies. In fifty years, he’d bump into you, and he’d be consumed by you all over again. There was a line of hope, though, maybe your paths wouldn’t cross. You could have totally different classes from him.

He walked into his first class and saw you. You were sitting in the third row from the front, halfway down a page in your book. Then you showed up in another class of his, and he knew he was officially fucked.

You found him on the way out of class, and suddenly you were talking to him. You sat together and ate lunch after your classes. You laid in his dorm and tossed your legs over his. You tapped his arm when he made you laugh. You giggled in the way you did when people insulted your art when he asked you questions about the reading assignment. Like you were saying, ‘Carmen, you stupid, stupid little boy.’ It made his stomach swirl with something in between hatred and desire. Like he hated you so much it twisted back around into a severe urge to reach out and grab the back of your neck. You chuckled when he said he liked your essay. You knew he would, you just wanted to hear him say it. He knew that's what you wanted, but he still gave it to you. You both were so weird. Those years he spent around you, he never asked anyone out and rejected anyone who asked him. It was like he wanted to stay loyal to you even though he wasn’t anything to you. He knew that. He wasn’t anything. That was okay. He could be whatever you wanted. If he was a friend today, that’s fine. How many friends do you wink at like that? Whatever you want. Whatever you want.

You finished your basics and transferred. You never gave him your number. You never told him what school you were going to. All he knew was that you wanted to write. There wasn’t a breakup because you weren’t together ever. You just told him goodbye one day after you sat next to him for hours in the library, and it was the last time he saw you.

Until right now. Six years later, in a god damn gas station. He just wanted ramen. When he went down that aisle, he saw you walking past the end of it, straight to the drinks. Carmen froze, his heart dropping straight to the floor. There was no way he was getting to the seeing ghosts part of his age. It just can’t be happening. He had to have mistaken it. Carmen slowly made it down the aisle. He might lose his mind if he turns this corner and you’re not there. He thinks he’ll also lose it if you are.

There you were, pulling down a tea and turning away from the refrigerated section. You paused when you saw him, a grin pulling at your lips. He felt like you were about to laugh at him and say he hadn't changed a day over 19. You would be the person to make all that effort trying to change the harmful parts of his behavior seem pointless. You'd pull him right back into that obsession, and he'd be hopeless all over again.

“Carmen.” You sighed, with a high tilt like you were ecstatic to see him. Carmen tilted his head down to stare at the floor. He tried to wipe the grin off his face, but he couldn't. The Hate-Desire came rushing back.

You sat across from him in the under-cleaned vinyl booth. The gas station had a chain pizza restaurant attached for tired travelers to get a lunch that wasn't just chips. You seemed different. Not enough to make him not want you, but enough for him to wonder if you regretted him. You couldn't stop grinning. It was tiny, but it was all he could think about.

You had a book on the way to publishing. You wrote news articles for an online magazine now. It had nothing to do with food, and he was thankful to talk about something else. You had lived four states over for a while, but you missed home. You had an apartment now next to a rinky-dink restaurant he'd never heard of before. The dial for your hot water in your shower didn't work unless you hit it first, but you loved the place. You had a plant. Her name is Lee. And you still giggled the same as you did all those years ago.

He told you about himself. Carmen gave you a moderately realistic representation. Dead brother. Anger problems. Smoking habit. Restaurant. He got a haircut last week. That was all he could think of. Then the conversation went quiet, and all the questions he had thought of before going to bed for the past six years finally had a place to come out.

“Did you hang out with me because you pitied me? Back in college?” Carmen muttered. The clearly exhausted teen behind the pizza counter finally put her phone down. She might've decided that this conversation was much more interesting. Carmen had a feeling that his personal conversation would be rehashed to an Instagram group chat later tonight. You lifted your eyes from the table and furrowed your brows.

“No. I liked you, Carmen. You were funny and talented, and I didn't have to think when we talked. Being with you was easy.” You answered, your voice fragile like you were going to crack if he said something mean about himself again. Carmen nodded.

“I mean, yeah. I never dated when we were friends. I felt so weird about it, like I was cheating. Even though I know we weren't anything.” Carmen chuckled at his own words. It was so preposterous to even say out loud. There wasn't a single universe where you and him would be something. Especially not college. Your mouth parted, and you stared at him like he had reached across the table and smacked you. Your eyes darted away from him, staring at the stained table.

“You were something to me.” Your voice was so quiet he wondered if you had even meant to say it at all. Your head was pointed down, hiding your face from the shitty fluorescents. Carmen felt ice run through his body. Oh God, what had he said? Had he meant that, or did he just say it? It was like his mouth always ran away from him. He can't catch up to it and sit it down. Carmen shot forward in his seat.

“No. I didn't mean, I felt like- No, I really liked you, but I thought you didn't like me- when I said we weren't anything, Oh, I don't know.” Carmen deflated, flopping back against the booth. You lifted your head, and he felt like he could breathe again. You weren't crying, which was a good sign. Your lips had tilted up again.

“I understand. I never told you because I thought you wouldn't like me. I guess we probably should've just said something.” You mumbled, a laugh tickling the back of your words. Carmen hummed in agreement. Silence passed over you again. The only sound was the constant buzzing of the gas station and the heat lamps for the pizza. The teen cashier sniffed once like she was impatient for your conversation to start again.

“To speak or to die,” Carmen muttered.

“Yeah.” Eloquently put.

Carmen waited for you to speak as he stared at you. He wanted you to say that you had actually been in love with him since second grade. The whole time, his feelings were reciprocated. Even if it were true, the look in your eye told him you'd pick death.

“Did you ever write about me?” Carmen whispered. You tucked your lips into your mouth. Your eyelashes fluttered, and your chin jutted down just barely. You didn't nod because that would be too overwhelming. You'd have to confess to something you held as a secret for so long. Carmen pulled some kind of power over you because you couldn't stomach not giving him an answer. He wanted to know how much you wrote and what you said. How did you describe him? How did you think about him? Or fantasize? Carmen pressed his knuckles to his mouth and stared out the window.

“More than I should’ve.” You grinned, leaning closer to him across the table. Carmen raised a brow in question.

“Yeah?” You hummed a yes.

“My hands got cramps from all the time I spent typing. I actually ran through an entire pen’s worth of ink from all the poems I wrote in my journal. I spent so much time thinking about you, all my writing ended up being about you. Even the little parts. Every love interest knew how to cook and had tattoos. And, when I finally transferred, every man needed to be you. I needed them to be stoic and mysterious.” You whipped your head back and forth, dragging out your last S. Carmen snickered, looking down at his lap to hide the fact that his face was starting to burn. You chuckled as you sat back in your booth.

“Anyone who wasn’t Sexy Carmen Berzatto disappointed me. I was extremely picky there for a minute. I only ended up dating one guy, but he was lame.” You said, shaking your head in disgust. Carmen tilted his chin up.

“What made him lame?” Carmen asked. He hoped you said something he knew he had in the bag. He couldn’t make you an omelet. He didn’t know your favorite color. He didn’t know what your high school best friend was like. He didn’t understand your writing. All of those he won easily. He could emotionally regulate? Oh, Carmen’s at a net negative. You tucked your lips into your mouth and held your hand up. You pointed one finger down to your lap. Carmen widened his eyebrows, pinching his two fingers into a small space. You shook your head.

“No. He had plenty of size, but he couldn’t use it.” You sighed. Carmen squinted at you.

“So you never-”

“Not once.” You stated. Carmen leaned closer, raising a brow.

“How long-”

“Seven inches.” You didn’t blink as you spit it out. Carmen paused, parting his mouth.

“…were you together?” He finished. You started up, nodding.

“Oh! Um…” You squinted your eyes, staring at the ceiling. Carmen waited patiently as you did your math. Now, was that seven inches flaccid or hard? It would change his opinion on the man quite a bit, actually.

“Eight months,” You finished. Well, no, you hadn’t. At least not during those months.

“Not once? For eight months?” Carmen asked, staring at you with wide eyes.

“I did, it was just usually once he left the room.” You clarified. Carmen sighed, staring out the window again.

“He must’ve been really funny,” Carmen muttered. You followed his eyes, watching the parking lot.

“He wasn’t.” You were quiet, like you knew you were going to regret saying it. Carmen pinched his brows.

“Was he rich?” You shook your head.

“Kind?” You gave him a half-shoulder shrug.

“Not particularly.”

“What made you stay?” Carmen asked. You paused, your eyes still glued to the cars outside. You pressed your lips into a line. You didn’t meet his eyes as you opened your mouth.

“He looked like you.” You answered. Carmen could feel his resolve falling apart. You were everything he fantasized about for years since high school. Someone so far out of his reach he would never ever ever get a chance with you.

And now you’re sitting across from him, telling him you wanted him so bad you stayed with some lame ass boyfriend for eight months because he looked like Carmen. You wrote about him. You thought he was sexy. You thought he was Sexy.

Carmen sighed, lifting his hips to readjust. He shook his head, staring at the table. He felt like he needed a smoke. He couldn’t meet your eyes right now. If he did, he’d be climbing across the table. He had to hold himself together for the overworked teen. He’d make sure to tip well before he left. So that she might be just a little kinder when rehashing how pathetic Carmen was to her group chat.

“Carmen?” You asked, trying to pull his attention back to you. Carmen shook his head, clawing at his face with his hands.

“Oh, I’m really struggling right now,” Carmen whispered. You shuffled, but he couldn’t look at you. He kept his eyes squeezed shut.

“With what? You know, I get it if you don’t like me anymore. Things change. You can tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable. I know I can get a little…” You trailed off before kissing your teeth.

“Much.” You finished. Carmen dropped his hands, peeling his eyes open. He met your look, shaking his head.

“You’re not too much. I’m just trying really hard not to lunge over this table.” Carmen whispered, hoping you were the only person who heard him. You tilted your head to the side, a grin breaking out across your face.

“Yeah?” Carmen nodded. You smiled so wide he was sure you were going to burst. Carmen scooted closer to the table, leaning closer to you. He could feel your exhale from your nose on his cheek.

“I can be better than him,” Carmen murmured. You turned your head to the side, staring at him from the corner of your eye.

“You think so?” You asked, wanting to chuckle at Carmen’s brazenness. He wasn’t like this in high school or even college.

“I know.” You raised your brows at Carmen, glancing down at the table.

“He couldn’t feed you like I can. He couldn’t make you laugh like I can. He couldn’t put you at ease like I can. He couldn’t inspire you like I can.” You turned your head, hiding your eyes from him. Carmen tilted his head, following your eyes. You couldn’t run away from his eye contact. You sighed through your nose, making his face warm.

“Like I have. He couldn’t give you what you wanted like I can. He couldn’t make you finish like I can. He couldn’t. I can.” Carmen ranted, keeping his voice low. You poked your tongue out between your lips, wetting them. You stared at him in silence. You wanted to tell him he changed. You wanted to tell him he was psycho. You wanted to reach forward and shove his shoulders. You wanted to grab hold of his arm and drag him back to your apartment. You wanted him to take you to his apartment and make you dinner. You wanted him to sit down with you and your journal. You wanted him to read every poem you wrote about him and tell you what made him flush. You wanted to reach across the table and kiss him for the first time.

“I’m free Saturday.” You said, instead of the insults you wanted. Carmen nodded. He kept his eyes on you.

“I’ll make Saturday happen,” Carmen stated. His tone was so steady you didn’t question him at all. You had a date on Saturday. You couldn’t be happier that he ran into you. Carmen ran his finger over his bottom lip.

“I need a smoke.” He whispered. It pulled you both from your movement. You sucked in a breath as you sat back in your seat. You patted your hands on the table top. Carmen sat back, digging into his coat pocket.

“I need to get home, I have an article I need to finish,” you mumbled. Carmen held his phone out to you. You smiled at him before typing in your number. You handed him his phone back. You slid out of the booth, waltzing off to your car. He watched you as you pulled out of the parking lot. When your car was down the road, he finally bought his noodle cup and slipped the cashier 20 bucks.

You slowly pulled your pillow closer to your face, your movements weighed down by your slumber. As much as you hated it, you had grown used to falling asleep alone. Jason was often out at night during his nightly routine of blowing things up and shooting at terrible people. As much as you loved him, you didn’t have the patience to wait for him. He had his key. He knew the time you wanted him home by. You didn’t worry about him until after 4 AM.

There was only one night he came home past 4, and it was the day you used the scary parts of your first aid kit. You hated thinking back on it. That whole night, or early morning, left you sick to your stomach. You hated the feeling of his blood on your hands and the way his skin pulled and sagged. You left that night in the dark hole far in the back of your mind.

Your mind skipped from its dream when the front door shut with a bang. Your brows furrowed in your rest as your brain tried to pull your focus back towards another dream. Your ears perked at boots dropping next to the front door. You slowly woke up as you listened to the familiar sounds of Jason returning home. The door to your shared bedroom slowly creaked open as his feet padded into the room. You lifted your head, squinting at the large shadow staring over you. He watched you start to stir as he pulled his shirt off. He sighed as his pants dropped to his ankles, finally down to his underwear and ready for bed.

Jason stumbled over the edge of the bed, ungracefully falling on top of the blankets next to you. He reached out, tugging you closer. You hummed, telling him you were awake. He finally pulled his helmet off, tossing it off the edge of the bed. It thumped against his pile of clothes. He leaned his head down and pressed his nose to your neck. Jason sucked in a deep breath as he slowly dragged his nose down your neck. He gently pressed his lips against the curve of your shoulder. His hands pulled the blanket around you, fumbling around until he was tucked in too.

“What time is it?” you whispered, trying to turn back to look at the clock on the nightstand. Jason's hand shot out, slamming the clock down on its face. Jason cooed as he turned back to you. He peppered your back with kisses, hoping it was enough to convince you.

“It's only three. Go back to sleep, baby,” Jason coddled. You huffed and lowered your head back into your pillow. His hand traveled up your back, cradling the back of your neck. Jason kissed your shoulder.

“Are you sure?” You asked skeptically. Jason hummed, pressing his cheek to your shoulder.

“Positive. 3:15 on the dot.” Jason stated. He raised a brow at you, challenging you to question him. You turned towards the clock, reaching to pull its face from the nightstand. Jason pressed his hand over the back, pressing it into the wood. Jason clicked his tongue, shaking his head. He tilted forward, pressing kisses to your neck.

“Focus on me, not the clock,” Jason mumbled against your skin. The vibrations from his voice made you sigh. You turned away from the clock, rolling into him. Jason grinned against you. He pulled his hand from the nightstand and pressed his palms to your back. He wrapped his arm around the back of your neck. He caged your face between his bicep and his fingertips, digging into your cheek. You puckered your lips for him. Jason granted you your request. He tipped forward, meeting your lips. He tilted his hand down on your cheek, pressing his pointer finger into your chin. He gently pried open your mouth by pressing down on your chin.

You graciously welcomed his tongue into your mouth. You pulled your arm pressed to the mattress up, tossing it over his shoulder. Jason rolled his hips forward, making your brows jump in surprise. His kisses started to travel, passing over the edge of your jaw. Jason buried his face in your neck. He mouthed wet kisses to your bare skin. You buried your fingertips into his hair, keeping him pressed to you. You stretched your other arm out. Jason felt pride fill his chest at you squirming under him. He nipped at your neck, making you gasp.

“Jason!” You grumbled in irritation. You were so easy to work up. Jason smirked against your neck, pressing a gentle kiss to the bruise he left. Jason slowly lifted his head, cocky all the way up.

“Oh, baby. There’s no need to-” Jason froze. You were pressing the side of the alarm clock to your cheek. You were giving him a knowing look. Jason glared at the evil 4:52 blinking at him in that viscous red color. Jason frowned as it might convince you.

“You’re late.” You chided. Jason shook his head. He reached for the clock. Jason pulled the evil thing from your hand before setting it back on the nightstand.

“That clock’s wrong.” Jason fibbed. You glared at him. Jason leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“That clock isn’t real. It’s a facade. This is a dream.” Jason mumbled. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“What held you up? You know how much I hate you staying past 4.” You reminded. Jason pressed himself closer to you. He whined at the pitiful look on your face. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, feeling at the raised scars. Jason shook his head, nipping at your puckered bottom lip. You tucked it back in, pulling the soft skin from his teeth.

“Dick being a dumbass. Nothing to worry about, I promise.” He explained, gently holding onto your elbow. You rolled your eyes.

“I think I need to have a chat with Dick about keeping you out past your bedtime.” You grumbled, rolling away from the clock. Jason followed your lead, tugging you closer to him.

“I hope you never have to be subjected to a conversation with Dick,” Jason whispered. He turned his head to the side and pecked a kiss on your temple. You huffed at that, pressing your cheek into his chest.