Window Pains | Jason Todd

window pains | jason todd

Summary: He's got a habit of coming in through the window. You want him to start staying... and using the door.

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings/tags: injured Jason Todd (he's okay dw), angst, pining, mentions of Jason's death.

A/N: sooo.... i guess i'm a dc girlie now. just a reminder that every character i write will always be 18+!!! this is probably canon divergent but we make our own canon.

If you like this fic and want to see more, please let me know through reblogs ♡

the divider

"Can't you enter my apartment like a normal person?"

"You know who you're talking to, right?"

"You're getting blood on my carpet, Todd."

It doesn't really matter. He'll come back and scrub it out as soon as his ribs are whole. And fuck if he's not good at getting blood out of surfaces. Jason Todd ought to start a housekeeping column.

You catch his limp as he climbs over the windowsill. It almost topples him, but he gets to the couch before it does. He doesn't make a sound.

That had freaked you out the first few times he'd stumbled through your window. Once, he came with part of a windshield wiper impaled in his shoulder. He'd lain on your couch so still and so quiet, you'd thought Red Hood had croaked in your apartment. Which would not have been a good look for you. Or maybe it would. Depends on who you ask.

Sometimes you want to tell him to make sounds. To hiss and grunt and complain. To grab your wrist so you'll slow down as you pull thread through flesh.

But it's not your place to request such a thing. You don't know where you reside in Jason Todd's life, but it's not somewhere where you can request to hear him hurt.

Outwardly, his injuries aren't bad-looking. He takes off his helmet and tosses it somewhere under the coffee table. You offer a hand to help him lie down on the couch—he doesn't take it.

"Jesus Christ, Jay." You suck in a sharp breath and peel back his bloody suit. "What'd you do?"

"Took a midnight stroll in the Botanical Gardens. Why, what'd you do?"

You frown, eyebrows pinching in the center of your forehead. Jason's stomach is mottled with purple and red bruises. There's a sticky gash right above his hip. A knife. Or a sword, maybe. Apparently, swords are commonplace in Gotham.

"How'd they get you?" you ask.

It's a rule-break. Jason's number one policy: don't ask questions.

You always do. Even when it was new, this… thing between you two, you'd ask. Who were they? Why did they hurt you? Did you hurt them back?

The last one, you always know the answer to.

"There were, like, ten of them," he says. "Cut me some slack, will ya?"

He has a cut across his lips. A ringed finger that caught on his skin, you guess. You wonder if he'd wince if you kissed him. If he'd wince at the pain or the kiss itself. If you'd know the difference.

Rage suddenly cuts through you. It makes your hands careless, cruel; you pull the bandage around his waist too tight. Jason coils up slightly.

"Jesus—ever heard of bedside manner?" he asks, looking at you through his lashes.

"Ever heard of not breaking into someone's apartment and making them patch you up?"

"I don't make you," Jason says easily. "You wouldn't do it if you didn't want to."

That only increases your rage. Because he's right. You wouldn't be here if you didn't want to be. You'd have kicked him out four first aid kits ago if you minded.

You yank down his shirt and pack up the kit. Jason shifts on the couch. A sliver of skin above his waistband is still exposed. You have to turn your head to force your gaze away.

"No bandaids?" he asks. "All my cuts'll be exposed to the elements."

"You can put them on yourself."

His cheek could use one. And his eyebrow. You're not in the mood.

Jason doesn't say anything in response to that. You get up to put the kit back under the sink.

"Can I crash here?"

"Do what you want," you say, suddenly exhausted. Like it's you who just went six rounds with Gotham's scumbags.

You peek over the kitchen counter when you hear rustling and the couch springs squeak. Jason leans heavily on the arm of the couch, reaching for the window. You walk over and stand in front of him.

"What're you doing?" you ask.

"You want me to go," he says flatly. "So I'm going."

"I didn't say that, I said—"

"I can read between the lines."

"If you could read between the lines as well as you think you can, we wouldn't be in this situation," you say.

"What situation?"

You turn your head. "Nothing."

Jason steps towards the window. You block him again.

"What is the matter with you?" you ask. "You're injured. Lie down."

"I'm not your responsibility," he says, glaring. "I'm leaving."

"No, you're not. And since you're allergic to using the door, you don't have a choice."

Jason's eyebrow rises. "Are you saying you'd physically prevent me from leaving?"

You lift your chin. "If that's what it takes."

"Hm. Can't tell if your confidence is stupid or brave."

"Lie the fuck down, Todd."

His lip curls. "I don't stay where I'm not welcome."

Sometimes you forget how young he is. Not that you're not also young, but, well… you don't feel your youth as acutely as other people your age might. It's something you two have in common.

Here, in the gritty glow of Gotham, you are reminded that Jason Todd died once. Before he finished school. Before he fell in love.

Your stomach churns every time you see that Y-shaped scar on his torso, strapped over him like a chain.

"I didn't say that you're not welcome," you say.

"Yeah, well, you didn't have to."

He sags against the couch and it occurs to you that he's as exhausted as you feel.

"Can you just—" You touch his bicep. He winces even though there's no injury there. "Can you just lie down?"

You stare at each other for another minute. Slowly, Jason lays down. His eyes are alert instead of heavy with sleep. Instantly, you feel guilty for making him think he has to be cautious around you. His hand curls protectively over his stomach.

"Do you want a blanket?" you ask.

He squints. "It's August."

"I know, I… I thought maybe the blood loss made you cold."

"'M fine. Perks of being risen from the dead."

You watch him get settled for a minute. He shifts his weight to his uninjured side and meets your gaze. His eyes are gray in the weak light.

"You're tired of me," he says.

Your head snaps up. "No, I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm not tired of you, Jay."

You see it. The fear. He thinks this is the last time you'll let him in. He doesn't know you can't lock him out. You won't.

You get up and go to get the kit from the sink again. Jason follows your movement the whole time. His face scrunches in confusion when you sit in front of the couch and unzip the kit.

You pull out the tiny red bandaids. You'd bought them as a joke, initially. It had made Jason laugh and that had been reason enough to keep buying them. And then he let you actually put them on.

You peel the adhesive off of one and gently stick it on his cheek. He blinks at you, thick, dark lashes kissing the corners of his eyes.

"I'm not tired of you," you say softly.

"I'd be tired of me."

"You keep this city safe. How could I be tired of Gotham's defender?"

Jason scowls and turns his head into the cushion before you can put the second bandaid.

"I'm not its defender. The others protect this city a hundred times better. Nightwing does it with a smile on his face."

"I like that you go out there even when it's hard, Jay," you say.

He doesn't respond. You lean in, so close that you can count the freckles on his neck.

"Can I finish putting the bandaids on?" you ask.

"I don't need 'em."

"You do. You need another on your forehead."

"It'll heal fine without it."

Your shoulders bunch like a cat on defense. You grab his cheek (gently, always gently) and his head whips to yours in surprise.

"Jason Todd, I am not tired of you. I'm tired of the fact that you only come by when you need fixing."

He scowls. "I never asked you to fix me. If you want me to leave, I'll leave."

"I don't want you to leave, I want you to stay!" you burst.

Jason scoffs. "No, you don’t. I'll overstay my welcome real fast."

"Maybe I care about you on purpose!" you say, voice rising. "Maybe I didn't stumble through a window; maybe I walked through the door and bought the bandaids and learned how to stitch wounds because I wanted to."

He suddenly looks overcome by grief. The agony in his face startles you.

"I don't know how to use the door anymore," he says quietly. "All I do is stumble through windows."

Your hand slips off of his cheek. Jason closes his eyes; they fly open when you stick the second bandaid above his eyebrow.

"You can come in any way you want to," you say, face an inch away from his. "As long as you come back to me."

His gaze darts to your mouth. You don't kiss him hard. He breaks anyway.

You avoid the right side of his mouth entirely, not wanting to pull at his cut. Jason shudders into your mouth. You cup his pulse through his neck and it quickens.

His eyes are wet when you pull away. His chest heaves like he's been swinging through the city.

"I wanna try to use the door," he says.

You touch the bandaid on his cheek, humming.

"Then I'll leave it unlocked."

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— Just Thought About Sharing These Here Because Why Not? I'm Not TikTok Famous So Maybe It Could Blow

— just thought about sharing these here because why not? I'm not TikTok famous so maybe it could blow up here right.

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hinakamiya

2 months ago

So, we all know Jason Todd would spoil the hell out of you, right? He'd know every detail, remember every important date, always do anything to make you feel special and wanted. The compliments would never stop, the random gifts always showed up, the physical affection never dwindled.

You loved it and he loved that you loved it.

But it was so normal (not to say it went unappreciated) that you almost didn't realize how lacking your own gestures were. Jason doesn't notice either, obviously.

However, he certainly starts to when instead of blowing a kiss to him from the couch when he leaves or comes home, you start getting up and draping your arms around him, kissing his cheek and lips. He'd never fault you for falling asleep when he's out on patrol in the middle of the night but feels a sense of warmth wash over him when you start leaving notes on his side of the bed telling him you missed him, or hope he was safe.

(+Bonus points if you told him his favorite food was waiting in the kitchen if he was hungry.)

You always match his energy when it comes to physical affection, holding him right back when he wraps his arms around you from behind or wrapping your legs around him while he holds you during the night, but realizing you almost never initiate it makes you reevaluate.

He notices, obviously, when you start asking him to join you in the shower or begin tugging him into your lap until his head is resting on your thighs and you can play with his hair. When you start smoothing out the few wrinkles on his shirt for him, or kissing his shoulder from behind while he works, sliding him a snack and telling him to eat.

It eventually all comes to a head when he's reading and you randomly start massaging his shoulders out of nowhere. Not that it doesn't feel good, because he always loves your soft hands on him, but he starts asking why you've been so affectionate lately you have no choice but to admit that you feel like you've been taking advantage of him.

"I never seem to give you the same kind of attention you give me," you confess, your hands softly kneading at the knots in his neck as he reads.

His head turns, one of his hands covering yours to get you to stop. "Is that what you think?" He asks, his voice much quieter, almost disappointed when you nod. He sets his book down on the table, dragging you around the chair and into his lap. "I give you attention because I like to," he explains, stroking your hair. "I don't need you to fawn over my every move."

You were his partner, not his parent. He didn't need to be watched over or fed and worried about to the extent you'd started leaning into. He needed your love, your support, your respect. Your honesty, kindness, compassion. Your smile, your laugh, your kisses. You, as you. His best friend and the love of his life.

Your lips pull into a tight line, arms wrapping around his neck. "You don't feel neglected?"

He almost laughs, shaking his head. "No," he states. "Never. I feel grateful as hell that you love me despite my past." He fusses with your hair for another moment before cupping your face. "I like showing you how much you mean to me."

You press your forehead against his. "I just don't ever want you to think you don't mean the same to me," you tell him, your voice barely above a whisper. You had always had a similar problem to him, struggling to accept love, let alone show it. He knew that.

His lips pull into a small smile. "I know. Believe me I know," he replies. "You don't need to follow me to the door every day or rub my shoulders for me to know you love me." He pauses for a moment, his voice getting a bit more playful. "But if you want to keep inviting me into the shower I won't complain."

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hinakamiya

5 months ago

Jason Todd aches to be loved.

It’s quite literally akin to a hot poker in his stomach, a grueling knife that cuts him open and empties him of all he’s got, first it guts him, butterflies becoming nothing but blades that cut away at his seams, slowly shreding his soul, because he’s alone, because he isn’t the boy he was, because he’s never been loved unconditionally. But he’s a romantic.

There is not an inch of his body without gruesome scar tissue; his young and athletic but lean body suddenly monstruos, huge, bigger than the closest thing to a father he ever had. If he can no longer hide away inside his father’s the bat’s cape, how can he search for the crumbs of love he used to devour? He has known hunger since the day he was born. He has taught himself to make a feast off of crumbs, to trick his senses into feeling full, to take a pat on his shoulder, the crinkle of someone’s eyes, as an ultimate show of love.

More than he thought he’d ever get. And it used to irk at him once. Didn’t he deserve better? Didn’t he deserve unconditional?

Now he’s sure of it. He doesn’t.

He died someone’s son and was remembered as nothing but a good soldier, leaving a post to be replaced. He came back a zombie and was forged into a double edged sword, to wound and to hurt, to maim and break. Not just others.

How can he be loved? He’s all rugged edges and scars. Insecurities and self loathing that run deeper than his blood. He is not the boy wonder anymore, the mantle has been passed like he was nothing but a stand by until something better, someone better, came along.

His father replaced him. His brother- the brother whose love Jason fought so hard to even sniff the hint of- gave his heart freely to Jason’s replacement. His murderer was free and about with no one doing a thing about it.

People he once believed loved him the only way their battered would knew how, people that gave him crumbs but it was okay, it was perfect, because Jason though that was all they had to give and he was honored it was to him that they gave it to; now showered his replacement with all the love his soul still rips itself apart for.

And then they knew he was back, he had expected the guilt, the fear, their realization of how they had wronged him when the red hood came off. He hadn’t expected revulsion. He hadn’t expected his dad Batman to keep punching him, (like every son he had not expected his father’s wrath at being reunited again). He had never seen him hit the clown that hard.

So how? How can he accept your sweet smiles and words of affection when he knows how it ends?

How can he believe anyone can love him if his of father, his maker -because while he did not beget Jason, he did make him into all that he is, he loved him like only a father can, and he broke him like only a father can- cannot?

Jason Todd would set himself ablaze to feel the warmth of someone’s love, but he would not trust it. He can’t. He has been wounded, broken and torn apart one too many times to ever think this will last forever.

Jason believes that for him to be loved he has to turn himself inside out and cut the rot away, cut away everything that stops him from being worth loving, but his body was dead for so very long that now, the rot is all he is, what will remain if he cuts it? Perhaps nothing. Perhaps that is exactly what is worth loving of him.

The greatest tragedy of Jason Todd is that he does not know how many people love him that know him just as he is. How many people feel unconditional love for him in a different world. His greatest tragedy is to never feel the warmth of that love.

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hinakamiya

7 months ago

Taking anti-depressant pills?? Seeing a therapist??? Journaling???? No need babe, my fav writer just dropped another x reader fic.

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hinakamiya

1 year ago

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hinakamiya

6 months ago

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick Appreciation Recs

why? because i said so. the fact that he's the least appreciated is a fucking crime and we need to fix that😐

Miss Sunshine - @sofasoap - the fluff- THE FLUFF😭😭😭😭 this legit had me giggling and kicking my feet in the middle of the night, i swear❤️

White Flag - @writeforfandoms - i want to be saved by this man so fucking bad🥴 okay, stressful situation aside, this was so cute❤️

Gaz + comfort sex - @sprout-fics - right in the fucking feels😭😭😭 this makes me just so so so weeaakkk. please just say you wanted me dead because that's what i am rn😭🔥

State Of My Head - @writeforfandoms - THIS. FIC. IS. EVERYTHING TO ME❤️ from the moment kitty met Gaz and he was just so gentle and respectful when handling her AND HE SMELLED GOOD, he's just had me in a chokehold😭 *distant choking sobbing noises*

Wrong Room - @mangowafflesss - there's just something about college!Gaz that makes me so weak, okay?🥴 and you did it beautifully with this one. i love this fic so much😭😭😭

Gaz prompt - @mangowafflesss - he's such a bumbling little cutie, i love him so much. thank you for this🔥❤️

Where The Petals Fall - @deadbranch - i swear you are just amazing, alright? this fic is absolutely top tier and it had me in tears🔥🔥🔥

Gaz has baby-fever - @konigsblog - fucking. hell🥵 just kill me. kill me right now. that's what you want, isn't it? ISN'T IT??😭

Breeding Kink with Gaz - @konigsblog - same with this one! you are an absolute menace for this one🥵

Cult of Vagabonds - @halcyone-of-the-sea - listen, i know i added your fic to the July picklejar rec list, but can you blame me for adding you to this one? can you? no, i didn't think so❤️

shameless self-advertisement by @groguspicklejar

(because obviously i couldn't find enough Gaz fics out there and people can't seem to find the reblog button🙄 so i find other ways to show my work🙃)

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick really soft hc that nobody asked for

Kyle picks you up from work

Kyle Garrick on boys night

Two Peas In A Pod

fanarts

Kyle checking you out - @temeyes - if Gaz looked at me like this, i-i would do anything he asks of me🥴

gaz. need i say more? -@skyspats - nope. nothing else needs to be said🌹

Rizz Master Gaz - @ramvur - HE HAS TOO MUCH POWER!!! but he uses it accordingly👌🏼✨💯

Charming Gaz - @munyon - you know what the first thing i said upon seeing this? it was "oh fuck🥵" because yes, that's what i would like this man to do to me. thanks.

Garden Knome 141 - @grimmzee - quick question: was Gaz hanging upside down a callback to the helicopter scene? because it feels oddly reminiscent😉 in a cute way, of course✨

Little British Guy - @tanukigobrrr - you have no idea how much i love this, it's so so cute🌻🌻🌻

Amsterdam Outfit - @minkei - THE AMSTERDAM FIT WAS SO ICONIC, I'M SO GLAD YOU RECREATED IT😭✨🔥

Gaz Sketch - @chocolatestrawberry-poptart - the little heart on his hat is everything❤️❤️❤️

Gaz Angst - @reds-skull - GAZ ANGST IS TOP TIER AND YOU'RE RIGHT, THERE SHOULD BE MORE!!! this is so amazing and it deserves an award for putting tears in my eyes👌🏼✨💯

Gazzz - @loneghostwolf - i guess this doesn't technically classify as fanart but i wanted to save it here so i can revisit it because he just looks so good😭❤️

Boop! - @temeyes - SO. FUCKING. CUTE✨💯 Soap is a fucking menace, btw, but I'm not gonna lie and say i wouldn't have done the same, okay? okay bye❤️

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hinakamiya

1 month ago

Sharing a new interactive Tsukishima Kei x Reader fanfic, where you play as Reader! It works just like a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure.

Title: Strawberry Shortcakes

Description: You're going to karasuno, and a fateful meeting with one particular tall blond has changed the course of your life's boat…

Author credit: Kanan

Link to play: https://glimmerfics.com/stories/d885cd2c-strawberry-shortcakes

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hinakamiya

1 month ago

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆ red marks

a/n: this is entirely self-indulgent. I won’t lie about that LMAO, I don’t know if this happens to other skin tones, so I am terribly sorry it won’t be as inclusive as I want it to be (I try and make my writing as inclusive as possible for anyone!!). I am white and my skin is very sensitive when I scratch it, so this is very common for me, so I apologise for those who are looking for inclusive skin tone stuff :(

pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader in mind, though Jaybin does use “ma” because even if I’m agender, I have a soft spot for him saying that

genre: fluff, kind of slice of life

words: 1k -- should be okay but tell me if there's any mistakes I missed!!

summary: Jason spots red marks on your skin, gets super worried, and won’t stop asking if you’re okay.

art on the right is by @/ciricearts & dividers by @/saradika-graphics!!

You stood in your kitchen, scratching your upper arm for what would be now for the better part of 5 minutes. The noise of sharp yet shorter nails running against skin filled the room, or more so your ears, as you waited for that faint ding of your microwave. The milk filled mug turning in circles as you absentmindedly waited for the timer to hit zero, your fingers running over your skin without you realising. Hot chocolate was always nice company while you waited for Jason to come home. Your brain was starting to blank out more and more while the soft electronic hum of the microwave mixed in with the sound of nails against skin, your eyes slowly losing focus on the dark wooden floor. Maybe you could—

Ding!

Your hand stops its constant up and down motion on your arm, your nails scratching the skin for one last time before you moved off of the counter to retrieve your mug. Your mind blanked once more between the time you got the cocoa and sugar, and the time you were already sipping on your finished drink. And then Jason was back.

He’s tired. He’s tired and he wants to be in your arms more than anything. But at least he’s home soon. At least he’s only tired and not badly hurt. And as soon as he’s held safely in your arms, he’ll be home.

Now, Jason just wanted to go back to your apartment, change and shower, and have the best sleep next to you. But then, of course, some stuff had to go a bit sideways (he’s being a bit dramatic).

What he comes back to instead is your gorgeous self in the kitchen, mug in hand, with big, red, extremely red, marks on your arm. It was worrying. Your skin flaked off a bit, and was red. And his mind went off.

“Sweetheart?” His voice came out a bit cracked as he hurriedly took his helmet off and placed on your table. He was quick to be by your side, your arm gently held by his hands, as if you were a precious jewel he was trying everything in his power to not damage.

You, mind still somewhat blank, shook awake out of your trance. A smile came up on your face as you set the mug down.

“Hi Jayjay,” you spoke softly, your voice portraying perfectly your tiredness. “How was patrol? Are you hurt?” A small worry took over your face, but you knew he’d be acting worse if he was badly hurt.

“Sweets, sweetheart, it doesn’t matter if I’m hurt,” his voice was pure worry, his eyes and body the same. “You’re hurt, what happened to your arm? Does it hurt a lot? We should put ice and cream on it. How’d you get it? Did someone do that? I swear to everything if someone did—” He’d started rambling, moving around the kitchen as his hurried words matched his hurried movements. He’s looking around cabinets and drawers, looking for that cream he’d mentioned, though it never resided in the kitchen to begin with. You just stared at him in confusion, unsure of what he was rambling about. Once his anger came out, showing that side of him that would about hurt anyone for you, you cut him off with a soft sweet laugh. He stopped dead in his tracks, and turned to look at you.

“I’m serious ma, did someone hurt you?” He asked again, a pout on his lips, though his demeanour had softened because of your laugh.

“Jay, hun, I have no idea what you’re on about,” a small sheepish smile formed on your face, as he frowned again. “Your arm, ma.”

You looked down at your arms, finding one significantly more red than the other, accompanied with some scratch marks. You were stunned, because when did that get here? You stared down at it for a moment, all the while Jason’s worry was worsening.

“Are you sure it doesn’t hurt ma?” He asked once more, before jumping back into action. “I need to find you that cream.” He hurriedly started looking through the drawers with a determination to not see you hurting anymore.

You kept staring at your arms as the puzzle pieces clicked together in your mind. And when the picture was done, you couldn’t help yourself but laugh.

You tried calling out to him through your laughs, though he wouldn’t listen.

“No, no! You’re hurt ma, can’t let you be hurt.”

“Jay— Jay, please look at me,” you said between giggles. “Jason.”

Hearing his full name made him stop and turn to you with a pout. You’d so rarely use his full name, it was always a nickname, a pet name, anything different. You’d only use it when he had to listen to you.

“Yeah?” He mumbled quietly, looking at you with that sad pout on his face, his voice so full of worry and care. His boyishness always came out in moments like this.

“Oh hun,” you chuckled, taking a step towards him to cradle his face in your hands. He leaned in on instinct. “I was just scratching my arm, see?” You smiled sweetly, demonstrating it by running your nails against your forearm. Few seconds after, and red-ish scratch marks appeared on your skin, following the path your nails took. Your hands found his cheeks again, as you pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose. “I’m okay, baby.”

Jason gently gripped your forearms as he leaned in closer to you. He gently turned your arm around to examine the marks, who were already disappearing, the big splotch of red on your upper arm already almost entirely faded, to a much lighter colour. Only then did he let out a big breath, wrapped his big arms around your waist, and buried his head deep in the crook of your neck, now breathing you in. Your arms wrapped around his neck, a hand slowly racking through his hair.

You both stayed like that for a while, holding each other, breathing them in.

…

“Can’t believe you got scared because I had an itch.”

“Shut uppppppppppp”

A long playfully annoyed groan merged with laughter in the quietness of the apartment.

again, this is entirely self-indulgent lmao, this happens to me way too much, I'll barely scratch my skin and then there's red marks on my skin for a good MINUTE, it's annoyinggggggg

I hope you guys enjoyed it, even if it isn't as inclusiv as it could be (which I am again sorry for)

I've been gone for a short minute, real sorry, I've been super busy with school and I essentially shouldn't even have been writting this in the first place considering I'm in exam season but I couldn't help myselfffffff

also!! I'm finally going to be properly setting up my blog soon, so that's going to be fun!! stay tuned for that I guess, and more stories because I wrote this in a day which is considerably really short for me :P

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hinakamiya

6 months ago

「scowls to smiles」 : ̗̀➛ you drive them crazier in love...

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ sfw, gn reader (mentions of makeup [kyle]), unedited, mdni !!

john price

"you're definitely the only person i would do this for..."

john grumbles, his arms crossed and his body slumped in the seat. you roll your eyes at him, snatching the remote next to him from behind the couch to change the television channel. the boisterous cheers get cut off, switching from your boyfriend's weekly football channel to the horror documentaries you oh-so love. you walk around to slide next to john, leaning into the arm he reaches out to you. it wraps around you out of instinct, pulling you in closer.

"you promised me we could watch tonight's episode," you remind him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, "besides, you know kyle's recording it for you tomorrow.."

a deep sigh (closer to a groan, really) escapes his lips, knowing garrick and the other two are out together watching the game at their local pub. still, he settles in, pressing a kiss to your temple, trying to ignore the spam of texts he's getting from the others about who scored what.

simon riley

the bedframe creaks aggressively at the way you're shaking simon's burly body, echoing throughout your shared loft. he's usually so good at waking up without a second thought back at base -- his body sensing the slightest movement meters away. but now? now his body's facing away from you, snoring loudly, almost as if he's mocking you.

oh, bring it on.

you are so going to get noise complaints for the wrong ideas, but you don't care at the moment. you're wide awake, and he's not.

it's so pretty outside, you nearly fell out of bed once you saw the slightest bit of golden light peeking into the room, glowing on the walls. looking past the curtains, the sky is painted in soft lavenders and ceruleans -- the sun just barely peeping out from behind the layers of old buildings.

"simon- wake up!! the sunrise is so pretty today, and the whole city's all pretty and there's no people out and its nice 'n cool so we can go out and get coffee and tea and breakfast-!!"

you yelp as he rolls over, nearly knocking you back. he's now laying on his back, eyes still shut, hair poking out and around in tufts, one big hand lazily grasping onto yours.

"y'know what else is pretty, love? sleep."

he tugs you slightly towards him, you legs knocking into the mattress. you let out a loud huff.

"no way, si'. i want a cute morning date with you, and if you're not up in the next 5 seconds i'm so going by mysel-"

a loud groan interrupts you, the bear of a man beneath you slowly rising to sit, rubbing at his eyes before sending a teasing glare your way.

"go grab my hoodie."

kyle garrick

kyle wakes up with a groan, stretching his stiff limbs out from the couch. the sun was still beaming through the cracks of the shades, illuminating the living room. he remembers falling asleep while waiting for you to finish your digital meeting in the other room, your muffled voice luring him into sleep. swinging his legs over the cushion to stand, he lets out a satisfied hum as his knees pop, before heading to the bathroom.

just before he could make it to the toilet, his head snaps back to the mirror. your giggles echo from behind kyle, as he tiredly rubs a hand down his face.

his perfectly contoured, flushed, powder-set face.

"really, love?"

"i dunno, kyle, this is a reallllly good look on you..."

you peek over his shoulder, a wide grin stretching your face. his eyes (outlined and enamored in glittery eyeshadow, keep in mind) glared at you through the mirror, letting out a deep sigh as you walk past him to take out the hidden cosmetics from the cabinet, showing them off to him. you rambled about how hard to was to find his exact shade so you bought 5 different foundations just in case (with his money...), that he kept twitching his eyes and messing up the eyeliner, how he almost woke up because the tutorial video blasted an ad midway through-

"you're so annoying, good god... i love you so much, c'mere-"

he was quick to turn around and cup your face with both hands, cutting off your squeals with a sticky kiss. one on the mouth, then the apples of your cheeks, then your chin, until your entire face was covered in cherry red silhouettes of his lips.

you wore his marks with beaming pride for the rest of the day.

john mactavish

johnny comes out of the kitchen with his eyebrows knit together and a frown creasing his lips. he swore up and down he saw it in the cabinets last, maybe it was in his bag? the bedroom? hell, he even checked the pockets of his jeans sitting in the laundry.

he rounds the corner of the hallway to where you were. you probably knew best, always the one to reorganize the shelves and put away the groceries. he grins as he sees you, lazing on the couch, watching the television,

"birdie, where's mah-"

and apparently snacking on the chocolate bar he's been searching for.

"...chocolate."

you two stare at each other, the voiceover from the luminous screen taking up the silence. johnny watches you chew very slowly, as if he wouldn't notice so long as you did it carefully enough. you look so cute like this, he thinks, looking up at him so innocently, seeming so happy with your treat. a perfectly disguised criminal he would've dismissed without a second thought. with an agonizingly slow swallow, you cleared your throat before speaking up,

"sorry, babe.."

oh, how could he ever be mad at you?

he lets out an amused huff, pushing himself off the wall to walk over to you. expecting some sort of punishment, you squeeze your eyes shut.

instead, you feel a firm kiss press on your chocolate-stained lips. with a surprised gasp, you invite him in to prod his tongue past your teeth. and after an awfully messy few seconds, he peels back, a satisfied smirk on his lips. another peck is delivered to your lips, before he settles into the couch beside you.

you may be a wanted criminal, but he's already had his heart stolen by you. and he's too damn smitten to turn you in.

@ tacticoal do not repost !!

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