#Robin keeps a list of people that try to kill her through her by nut allergy

[artiststarme]

Robin has a nut allergy

Just a little snippet of Robin being allergic to nuts with some Steddie on the side. I hope you guys like it and please leave your thoughts in the comments!

~*~*~*~

It’s a well known fact within the Party that Robin is allergic to nuts. Whether it be because of genetics or her lesbianism that had her allergic to even being in the vicinity of nuts, male or otherwise, she was deathly allergic. And ever since an incident involving carrot cake, walnuts, and an ambulance ride to the ER, everyone knew it. 

She didn’t have an Epipen herself (they were too expensive and she’d rather die before spending $600 on something that might save her life) but Hopper now had three of them on his person at any given time. And Steve had stolen one of his emergency pens to put in the Beemer in case of emergencies. 

Either way, it had been a long time since she’s needed one and a long time since she had any sort of allergic reaction. Robin felt secure with her friends. With them, she didn’t have to check all of the ingredients on food containers or worry about one of them trying to murder her with concealed tree nuts, unlike her parents. Or so she thought. 

Because when she stepped into the Hopper-Byers’ house one afternoon on what was supposed to be her introduction to her first DnD campaign, her throat swelled shut. Within seconds she was choking, her face turning red and her eyes watering. She couldn’t breathe. 

She clawed at her throat in an effort to get air in. She vaguely felt Steve pulling her out of the doorway of his house and distantly heard him yelling at Eddie to grab something from his glove box. Meanwhile, Robin was panicking. She couldn’t get enough air in and her muscles were starting to weaken. She could feel her body fighting itself as it responded to the airborne molecules of nuts in the air. 

Her vision was tunneling and her breaths were labored by the time she felt a sharp stab in her right thigh. Immediately, the swelling in her throat started to lessen and her vision began to clear. Her chest heaved for the air it was deprived of and her ears tuned back into her surroundings. 

“C’mon Eddie, help me pick her up. We have to get her to the hospital. Let’s go!”

“Hey Stevie, calm down. She’s fine now. We’ll get her to the hospital and she’ll be okay. I’ll drive, you just hold onto Robin.”

“What even happened? She was having an allergic reaction?” She thinks that was Jonathan but she couldn’t be sure with her eyes still closed. 

“She’s allergic to nuts. Especially pecans and walnuts,” that darling voice was Will’s. She’s recognize his soft tone anywhere. 

“Oh my god! I was making pecan pie, I forgot! I feel horrible!” That was Joyce, no one else could sound so hysteric. 

The rest of the conversation escaped her as Steve and Eddie set her in the Beemer and took off towards the hospital. She nodded off in Steve’s arms in the back of the car and Eddie drive like a bat out of hell to get her help. 

When she woke up, she was resting on a hospital bed with IVs in her hands and a blanket pulled up to her chest. Night had fallen and Steve and Eddie were still by her bedside, curled up on a single chair with their limbs wrapped around each other. 

Knowing she was safe in the presence of her best friends, she let her eyes slip closed and went back to sleep. There would be apologies made in the morning and hysterical promises made but for now, she would rest in the presence of her capital P platonic soulmate and his boyfriend, her other best friend. Everything else could be dealt with later.

Permanent tag list: @doubleb11 @nburkhardt @zerokrox-blog @newtstabber @i-less-than-three-you @carlyv @pyrohonk @straight4joekeery @trippypancakes @conversesweetheart @estrellami-1 @suddenlyinlove @yikes-a-bee @swimmingbirdrunningrock @perseus-notjackson @anaibis @merricatty @maya-custodios-dionach @grtwdsmwhr @manda-panda-monium @lumoschild @goodolefashionedloverboi @mentallyundone @awkwardgravity1

[forlornmelody]

Three Robins Rose Has Kissed And The One Who Kissed Back

Rating: Explicit (there’s smut, and lots of swearing, and some implied drug use.)

Fandom(s): DC Comics

Ship: JayRose (Jason Todd/Rose Wilson)

AO3 Link: Here

Summary: Rose Wilson has a type and it is former protégés of Batman.

Note:  For the sake of this story, I'm assuming both the events of the Crisis continuity, and the New 52, happened. (But we're just gonna pretend DC didn't nerf Rose for daddy-fodder, kay? Kay.)

-*-*-

“Rose.” Nightwing stares down at her, narrowing his eyes, but his grin betrays him. “Something tells me you’re doing this on purpose.”

“What makes you say that?” The mat presses up against Rose’s back.

“That’s the third time today I’ve swept you off your feet.” Dick’s got her in a full nelson, one of his escrima sticks pointed at her throat. He’s not actually going to bust her, though. Nightwing, the former Boy Wonder, is too good for that sort of thing. It frustrates her to no end. 

“Maybe I need more practice.” Rose can’t help the playful lilt creeping into her voice. The blue and black look good on him--better because they hug his body in all the right places. All she has to do is tilt her hips--there. One flip and Rose leans over him, pressing both his wrists against the mat. 

“You? You’re better than this.” Somehow it sounds like Dick is commenting on more than her training room flirting tactics, and the smile slips from her face. Like he hasn’t hit on half his opponents already. Hypocrite. She’ll show him. 

Time slows as Rose closes in, so close she can hear Dick’s heart speeding up. Just as her lips are about to brush against his--Dick turns his head and her kiss lands on his cheek. “Oh come on.” Just like that--Dick’s on his feet, launching Rose off him.

“Focus, Rose.” 

Their sparring session continues, and Dick never once brings up the kiss. He drives her crazy, in more ways than one, but she seems to have him off-balance for now. Rose presses her advantage, and she pins Dick face-first against the Robin costume on display. Freezing, Dick sucks in a breath. Before Rose can ask what’s wrong, he shoves his elbow into her sternum, pushing her away. 

“Dick?” 

“Not now.” He doesn’t even look at her as he slams the door behind him. 

What’s his hang-up with his old costume, anyway? 

-----

Rose’s only on this team because of Dick, because even though he doesn’t lead the Titans anymore, what he says goes. Even when the Titans hate his decision. Even when they hate their newest member with a passion. Even though she tried to kill them before. 

But Rose knows more than just martial arts. And she knows just how to get under Tim’s skin. Or on top of it, rather. 

Click. Tim’s got her pressed face-first against the mattress and her hands cuffed behind her back. Somehow Rose suspects this isn’t a bondage thing. Too bad. She really liked the feel of Tim’s lips against hers. 

“Hot damn.” Eddie stares at them through the open door and Rose can literally see steam coming out of his ears. That might be normal for him. Rose hasn’t been paying attention, at least not before now. 

“It’s not what it looks like,” Tim says quickly.

“Yes it is,” Rose says even quicker. Sometimes Rose’s visions don’t help much. People’s choices determine the future and people can be oh so finicky. It drives her nuts. Fights are one thing--people either want to kill her or they don’t--the rest they have ingrained through practice or the lack thereof. Knowing whether someone wanted to get in her pants--well. Apparently, she hasn’t quite figured that one out. 

Tim pulls her cuffs off, extracting himself from the bed and putting some distance between them. “Put some clothes on.” Damn. She’s 0-2.

But with the way Eddie’s eyes linger on her as she slides her armor on? Maybe it’s not a total loss. 

----

First Stephanie giggles, and Rose can hear it echo across Gotham’s rooftops. “What are you doing?” Then her smile slips, and the silence is deafening. 

Rose leans in closer, both their asses teetering on the edge. “You and Tim are on a break, right?” Her lips part, and she can smell the lavender in Spoiler’s shampoo. Their breaths intermingle and she’s so close to--

“Rose, I’m straight.”

“Seriously??”

----

Honestly, Rose had given up trying at this point. Jason Todd--Gotham’s best, or perhaps worst bad boy--should have been an easy target. Except he wasn’t Rose’s target, not this time. Her employer wanted Roy Harper out of the picture--Jason was just in her way. And he rarely left his best friend out of his sight. And Rose thought Koriand’r would’ve been more of a problem. And with her out of town--possibly out of planet--this should have been a piece of cake. Just get off The Red Hood’s radar by getting into his pants. How hard could it be?

Way harder than Rose ever imagined. 

But the price on Roy’s head? Too high to pass up. With that kind of money, Rose would be set for life. No more relying on her dear dad to help with bills every so often. Or his car. Or his safehouses. She could even get her brother the care and protection money to keep him away from all those bent government agencies and mad scientists who wanted to dissect his brain, or worse, use him for their own ends. 

So, Rose stayed. Even after Jason turned her down, more than once. 

The first time, it’s on a mission in Hong Kong, where Rose just so happens to be going after the same target. The Jade Dragon--Kingpin and Slum Lord who owned half the Indian Ocean. Roy waits for them on the roof with their getaway ride, and Rose joins Jason in the elevator. Halfway up it just so happens to stall. She really outdoes herself. 

Jason’s blue eyes stare not at her, but at the emergency hatch. The back-up lights cast a soft glow on his skin as Rose closes in. “It’s probably a power failure. No way they don’t have backup generators in this place.”

“Yeah. But they don’t run the elevator when the power goes out--in case of a fire.”

Jason swears under his breath, eyeballing the distance from his feet to the ceiling. “So what. We’ve got about ten, maybe twenty minutes before they fix it?”

“Something like that.” Rose touches his shoulder. “Relax. Where’s your slumlord going to go? The roof?” The stairs don’t go to his penthouse. She checked. Something about a security risk. Rich wackos like him like to be airlifted out in case of emergency. 

Pressing his lips together, Jason lets out the breath he’s being holding for two minutes. “You’re right.” He slumps against the back of the elevator, staring at buttons like they’ve personally wronged him. “I just hate waiting.”

Rose slouches next to him, not quite touching him, but close enough to where they can feel each other’s heat. “I know how we can pass the time.”

Jason blinks, finally giving Rose more than a passing glance. “...You’re kidding, right?” He laughs softly, and it’s the softest she’s ever seen his expression. “We just met.”

The batkid who got hired for jacking the Batmobile’s hubcaps, who had a reputation of going just a little too far when beating up bad guys, who actually killed more than one villain who got under his skin. Jason Todd--the guy on ten international watch lists--a prude. Who knew? 

----

Except Jason isn’t really a prude, now is he? Nah. Rose’s caught him stealing glances at Kori more than once--always looking the other way when Kori’s boytoy Roy stands nearby. Hell, the way Jason and Roy fool around sometimes—Rose’s not completely convinced of the joke. She’s even found some saucy text messages in his phone, and more than one picture of a gorgeous flight attendant. An old flame--Rose guesses. 

But he doesn’t spare her a second glance. 

And it’s not like Rose doesn’t know what she’s doing. Infiltration isn’t her favorite--she’d much rather blow up The Starfire with a heavy payload. Simple. Quick. A big, beautiful explosion to light some fire in her eyes. But the fucking employer wants Roy’s head as proof. Says he and his friends tend to walk away from this sort of thing. Her employer seemingly has all the time and money in the world--so long as Rose completes the job. She’s starting to wonder what Roy did to piss him off. But she knows how to get under a guy’s skin--the right clothes, the right words, simple gestures to lure him in. 

The second time it’s after the mission, when they’re celebrating with drinks--with sparkling cider instead of alcohol (what is it with these guys?) Rose dons a bikini with his favorite colors--red and black and lounges on the deck chair next to Jason. Roy and Kori have the right idea--already having forgotten their bubbly beverages--drinking instead from each other’s lips. And Jason’s staring up at the stars. 

 Rose kind of envies him in that moment, floating on the water with nothing but wonder on his face. She swan dives at the opposite end, swimming her way toward him. The splash does stir his floaty, and Jason turns over to glance her way. Maybe, just maybe she has a chance. 

“Nice moves out there today. You dad teach you that?”

Rose shrugs. “My mom taught me a few things, too.” Mostly how to draw in close without her mark noticing. But nothing seems to slip Jason’s attention. 

Jason eyes her as her arms brace themselves on his thigh. “You really want me, don’t you.”

“Can’t fault a girl for trying.” And damn her, he’s gorgeous, and cut like a rock. Was it all his years in the batcave or his time with the All-Caste? 

But that’s not want hooks Rose the most. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not like that.” It’s the softness in his eyes. She’s only seen it a couple of times in the past few days, but each time he looks at his friends like that Rose swears she’s being let in on a big secret. 

“Do not tell me you’re gay.”

Jason laughs, laughs, and Rose immediately knows she’s in too deep. “Gay? Straight? Labels. Who needs ‘em?” He stretches out on the pool mattress, and he lets the leg Rose’s leaning on slip into the water. “They’re just more rules.” 

“Then why…?” Rose doesn’t say it. Doesn’t voice the rejection sinking into her brain. Admitting it out loud would mean admitting failure, and Rose Wilson does not fail. 

Shrugging, Jason murmurs. “Don’t know you well enough, yet.”

----

Rose should’ve given up at this point. Gone for the easier kill, damn the consequences. Just snapped Roy’s neck while Kori was in the shower. And why hasn’t she? She hasn’t the foggiest idea. But if she’s honest with herself--Rose knows exactly why. 

Roy is Jason’s best friend. 

Jason would never forgive her if he found out. 

And why does it matter if Jason hates her? 

Damnit, Rose. 

This was exactly the kind of fucked up shit her dad warned her about. Don’t stick around too long. Don’t make friends. Don’t let your mark get under your skin. And what did Rose do? Exactly that.

Her employer doesn’t care if she seduces Jason Todd or not, so why does Rose? 

Damn it all to fucking hell. 

Rose beats the hell out of the punching bag, shaking the chain it hangs from with every strike. Each punch she lands inspires a new idea. Slip some arsenic in his drink. Stab him from behind. Throw him off the roof of the ship. Press a pillow into his face. Snap his neck. Snap his fucking--

“Rose?”

Her fist freezes midair, and she pants, not bothering to turn around. “Yeah?”

“It’s Roy. Something’s happened.”

Fuck. “Is he dead?”

Jason’s eyes tighten as he shakes his head. “We need to find him. Fast.”

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

----

Rose should be happy. Roy did all her hard work for her. Someone found him while he was on a bender, tied him up, and has been carving up his skin as if the answers themselves will bleed right out. 

Amateurs. A professional knows only to interrogate a sober target. Establish a baseline of what the hostage knows and then break them down with intoxication if need be. Break them slowly, only as much as needed. Dead hostages can’t answer questions. 

“Arsenal?” Jason whispers, tilting up Roy’s chin. He doesn’t respond, and his head flops down, heavy against his chest. 

Kory shoots the nearest window, a low growl escaping from her throat as glass shards rain down the side of the building. Rose jumps a little, despite herself. She doesn’t want to imagine being on the receiving end of one of those star bolts. 

“C’mon, Roy. Answer me.” Rose never thought she’d hear Jason beg, not like that. She can’t stand it. 

Walking over, Rose check’s Roy’s pulse and sighs in relief. It’s sluggish, almost too faint to feel. Rose could put him out of his misery right here and now and his friends would have no idea who killed him. Just slip her knife in to hit his artery and bam. Problem solved. Her fingers slip toward the knife on her belt, but Jason’s pleading gaze stops her cold. 

“Is he…?” Oh fuck. Jason has tears welling in his eyes. 

“Alive.” Rose can just see the barrel of the gun her employer will use to tie up loose ends. “Not for long, though.”

Between the three of them, Jason, Rose, and Kory carry Roy back to the ship where they can apply first aid, and the ship’s alien technology can perform a synthetic blood transfusion. Roy’s pulse slowly returns to something recognizable, and Rose sinks in her seat. She’s deciding between her safe houses when Jason’s fingers graze her jaw. 

Rose jumps out of her seat, using everything in her power not to deck him in the face. “The fuck…?”

“Hey.” Oh. Jason’s nose is so close to hers that she can feel his breath on her face. She can smell the mint he just put in his mouth. Never once did Rose imagine Jason could be such a sap. The heat of his fingers sears her skin, but she doesn’t pull away. Rose dares a glance down his lips and when she looks back up Jason’s already tilting his head to meet hers. 

His kiss is softer than she expects, lightly brushing his lips over hers, holding her jaw just enough so she can slip away if she wants to. Rose freezes, never expecting this after all this time, all those refusals. Jason starts to pull back before her brain finally stops dividing by zero, and she grabs the back of his neck, crushing her lips against his. Swearing softly, Jason meets her tit for tat, and they stumble out of the med bay and into the hall. 

Rose presses him against the wall, slipping her hands inside the opening of his favorite jacket, feeling the heat rising off his chest and the rush of his heartbeat. Part of her still expect to wake up from this dream in her bed alone, heart hammering, skin flushed, thighs damp with need. She mouths a silent prayer into his lips, to the god she never bothers to answer to, pleading to make the dream real, just this once. 

Jason’s hands wander across her shoulders, down her arms, and around her hips to her back. Rose steps between his legs, pushing his jacket off his shoulders. Breaking for air, Jason’s words come out ragged. “We...we should pick a room. Yours or mine?”

Instead of answering him with words, Rose guides him to his door and shoves him inside, tossing his jacket to the floor. Jason stares at her breathlessly, and she hesitates. “Too much?”

“Never.” His fingers wind in her hair, pulling her back into another kiss.

Rose drinks him in like she’s parched for thirst, scratching the edge of his hairline from the tips of his ears to the base of his skull. Jason sucks in a breath and Rose grins into his mouth. She tastes him, gasping softly as his fingers twist in her curls, pulling at her hair just enough. HIs other hand wanders just south of her waist and he freezes. Stepping back, Rose loosens her hold, looking him over from head to toe. 

Jason pants, taking her in too. “...Are we…?”

Leaning against the closed door, Rose folds her arms. “Are we what, Jason?”

“Is this a onetime thing or…” Jason’s eyes trail back in the direction of the hospital room and suddenly the tension between him and the other Outlaws make a lot more sense. 

Damnit. “I’m a merc, Jason.” Really, she should be happy with the kiss, more than the kiss, but this--former Robin proves hard to let go of. “I’ve stayed here too long as it is.”

Jason’s eyes narrow ever so slightly and Rose plasters on her poker face, hoping he hasn’t found her out tonight of all nights. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Push me away.” His voice wavers as he speaks, and Rose’s heart plummets to her stomach. Damn him. 

“What do you want from me?” And damn her too, that waver is apparently contagious. 

Jason steps closer, sliding his hand in to cup her jaw, the edge of his thumb grazing the bottom of her cheek. “I don’t want to just fuck, Rose.” His eyes close, and he brushes his nose against hers. “I want to--” He clamps his mouth shut, trembling slightly in his touch. 

The word teeters on the edge of his tongue, but it doesn’t come out, so Rose pulls it out with a snarl. “Loving me will get you killed, Jason.”

A sloppy grin forms on his face, and Jason nods at her. “Death isn’t as final as you think.”

“So what. You’re immortal now?” She’s grinning too, and she knows she’s fallen too far to get back up.

Jason brushes his lips against hers. “I sure feel like I am when I’m around you.” His next kiss probes deeper, and one hand tugs on her elbow. “Stay. After this is over.”

Her answer is right there, just inside her mouth, but Rose says something else instead. “Oh? You’re that sure I’m a good fuck?”

His lips smack against hers. “I’m not here to fuck you.”

“Jason--”

He silences her with a finger, and then he traces the edge of her lips with his fingertip. Rose resists the urge to pull it into her mouth and suck on it. She’s doomed. “I’m here to make love to you.”

Rose swallows, freezing on the spot. “I can’t promise you anything.”

His smile slips, and she desperately wants to put it back on his face. Rose doesn’t want to break his heart, not anymore. “Rose--”

“No one can.” Tracing the space where his heart hammers in his chest, Rose whispers softly. “Someone could break in ten minutes from now and shoot me in the head.” Standing up on her tiptoes, she kisses his forehead. “Nothing’s guaranteed.” Then she kisses the back of his hand. “Doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy it while it lasts.”

Jason watches her, his face inscrutable as ever. 

Shit. Did I make things worse? Rose opens her mouth to murmur another apology but Jason kisses her before she can say a word. He pulls her close, his hands seemingly everywhere at once, and yet she craves more of him. Daring to slide her hand up Jason’s shirt, she grins into his lips as he leans heavily into her touch, a groan escaping from his lips despite himself. She grazes the lines of his abdomen with her nails. “Oh,” Rose says softly. 

Jason Todd. Blushing. As he watches her. “Like what you see?” he says just as soft. 

“I haven’t seen anything yet.” She ducks down, pushing up his shirt and following its path with her mouth. 

“Fuck.” One of his wandering hands finds its way back to her hair, holding her head as she breathes against his stomach. “Rose.”

Rose stands up, grinning against his collarbone. “Getting there.” She finds the hollow where his neck meets his shoulder and lavishes her attention there, charged by the tightening of his grip. 

Jason pushes her to arm’s length, taking a ragged breath. He drags down the zipper of her jacket, taking in the sight of her skin inch by inch. Rose presses into his touch, admittedly reddening a bit herself. His lips part with hunger, but it's the wonder in his eyes that stops her in place—like he sees the stars flickering across her skin.  With his fingers he traces the scar on her shoulder and the ones that line her arms. Sucking in a breath, he circles the mark of a bullet on her chest. “That must’ve hurt.”

“Like hell.” Rose mutters, only to gasp when Jason presses his lips against it. “Jason.”

“Shh,” he says softly, breathing in her scent as he edges his fingers beneath her bra and the plastron it holds. He traces a path up her neck and across her throat until he makes it to her ear. “Let me take care of you.”

Why does the thought of him being gentle make her heart beat faster?  Part of her wants him to have his way, and take his time exploring her body. Another, much louder part wants to rile him until he takes her fast and hard. Rose grabs the edge of his shirt, looking up at Jason. He nods, and she bites her lips as she pulls it over his head. 

Holy shit. 

Rose thought she had a lot of scars. Jason has so many she doesn’t even know where to start. There are the bullet marks, the punctures, the rhythmic signs of torture, the line going up the side of his neck and into his hairline where a crowbar must’ve bashed his head in. It’s not until Jason tilts her chin up that Rose realizes she’s been holding her breath. “I’m still here,” he whispers, pulling her into another kiss. She wonders how many times he’s kissed Death on the lips, only to pull back when it wanted him most. 

“Soon, you’ll in bed.” She grins against his lips, finding the latch on his belt. “Booby traps? Really?”

He laughs once, running a hand down her breast, feeling the softness of her skin there. “Safety first.” When he gets to the lines of her abdomen, he swallows, drawing a grin from Rose’s mouth. 

Stepping back, Rose eyes the latch, her brain already processing the potential catastrophes, and the configurations that would enable them. “Gotcha.” The belt clicks open, without a single explosion or poison released. 

Jason blinks at her as she sets the belt aside. “I can’t decide if that’s hot or terrifying.”

Rose stands up on her tiptoes, whispering in his ear. “Why not both?” She punctuates her question with a bite on his ear lobe. The rumble of his groan stirs her chest, sending shockwaves between her legs. Hooking her thumbs in his belt loops, Rose pulls him closer, grinding up against him. 

“Rose--” He says, in pleading or in warning, Rose isn’t quite sure.

“What do you want, Jay?” She runs the tip of her tongue up the ridge, shivering at the way his ragged breaths stir her hair. 

“Bed,” he says hoarsely, “now.” He pulls her with him, and they tumble into the sheets, boots still on. 

It’s a race, then, to see who can get the other’s off the fastest. Four thunks, laughs, and tangled sheets later, Rose climbs up his body, guiding his hands to her belt. Jason’s removed plenty of belts, that Rose is sure, but it’s like he deliberately fumbles his hands against her skin, just so he has an excuse to graze his knuckles there. And damn him, her skin jumps every time. Fine. She’ll make him lose track for real. Rose plants a wet kiss against his lips, running her hands down his shoulders and his arms, guiding his fingers until her belt clangs against his bookshelf before sliding to the floor. “Better,” she murmurs. 

Jason runs his fingertips along the edge of her jeans, drawing his touch up and down her spine. “I could stare at you for hours, you know that?”

Rose snorts. “I can think of better ways to spend your time.”

Tilting his chin in challenge, Jason sits back. “Oh? Like what?”

Biting her bottom lip, Rose catches his wandering hand, and takes it to the button of her jeans. “Lemme show you.”

Jason holds his breath, unbuttoning her jeans and drawing the zipper down. He’s so quiet Rose starts to doubt what her late-night visions have been telling her for months. Maybe they weren’t her precognition talking. Maybe they’re just the wet dreams so many guys and girls have had ever since Jason donned a mask. Searching his eyes, Rose says, “We can stop--”

Holding her gaze, Jason replies, “I don’t want to.” HIs fingers follow hers inside her jeans and inside her underwear, and he sucks in a breath. “Shit, you’re wet.”

Rose blushes, despite herself. “You really all that surprised?” She presses his fingers in slow, small circles, holding onto the headboard behind him for balance. Then she moves his touch faster, harder, gasping against his shoulder. “Nn, fuck.” 

“Breathe.” Jason chuckles softly, pressing a kiss into her shoulder. He moves his fingers more independently now while she’s distracted. And Rose breathes him in, awash in gunpowder and amber, and that salty scent he bears after a fight. Always so uniquely Jason Todd that the smell of it sends Rose right over the edge. He shakes them both with his laughter. “And our pants aren’t even off yet.”

“Shut up.” Rose pulls back to look at him.

He smirks. “Make me.”

Jason doesn’t need to say it twice. Rose assaults his lips with hers, pushing him down into the mattress. Making quick work of his jeans, she pulls them down as he shimmies out of them. Boxers briefs, huh? They’re just a simple grey with a black waist band--for some reason she’d expected some sort of smart-alecy words printed on them.  Sliding down, she runs the tip of her nose up the line of his bulge, grinning as he writhes beneath her. While she sits up, Rose edges her fingers inside, feeling along his length, breathing in Jason’s unsteady gasps. Always so coy and cocky, and now he can’t form a single word. “Cat got your tongue?” she murmurs against his ear. 

Jason turns his head, kissing her long and deep, rolling them over. Rose lifts her hips so he can get her jeans off, and he kisses just south of her belly button. “Mm.” Glancing up at her, Jason grins, kissing harder against that spot, lavishing his tongue until she squirms beneath him. But she doesn’t beg, not yet. The lines in his back are coiled tight, so tight his body might burst at the seams, but Jason takes his time, kissing down her hips, her thighs, her calves. Swallowing her whine, Rose reaches for his shoulder, but Jason takes her hands, placing them back at her sides. 

“Patience, Rose.” He silences her protests with a kiss, diving back between her legs, edging them apart so that he has room. His lips find her ankle, the back of her knee, and Rose heart pounds as he gets closer and closer to her underwear. There’s no hiding her need for him now, with the way it soaks the front of her boyshorts. Jason samples the taste of her through the fabric, giving her one long lick. 

“Oh fuck.” Rose gasps and twists, and Jason has to hold her down with one arm slung across her abs. He peels her underwear off, testing her with different pressures and strokes. Every so often, she catches him looking up at her, assuring himself he’d doing it just the way she likes. Her insides clench, and she twists in bliss, but Jason doesn’t stop, only pausing briefly to come up for air. Even then, his fingers fill in while he wipes his mouth.

“Shh.” He whispers against her mouth, reaching over into his bedside drawer for a condom. Did she say something? 

“Yeah?” Rose asks, and her voice comes out hoarse. Fuck, she must’ve been screaming. While he slides on the condom, she’s reaching over for a bottle of water, downing half of it without giving a fuck to whom drank from it last.

Jason returns to her, surprisingly shy when they’re so close to merging their bodies. He gives her one chaste kiss, then another, letting her lead the pace. She winds one hand around the back of his neck, scratching the skin at the base of his skull. The other she uses to thumb the scar next to his eyebrow, the sharp line of his jaw, the sheen of sweat running down his neck to his collarbone, and that delicious line that runs down to the thatch between his legs. Guiding him inside her, Rose closes her eyes, letting his groan wash over her shoulder. 

Rose traces circles across his back as he thrusts in and out, only to grip his shoulder when he picks up the pace. Jason grins against her mouth, sliding his hand between them, and Rose jolts, clinging to him as she whimpers into his neck. “It’s okay,” he murmurs against her mouth. “You can let go.” His tone meanders between loving and teasing, and maybe for Jason there is no line between them. 

She doesn’t want to, not again before he does. But then Jason has to fucking whisper sweet nothings in her ear. 

“You’re so beautiful when you let go,” he says softly, and her world flashes white, much like it does on the cusp of a vision. Her body coils like a spring, and Rose hooks her ankles around his hips, drawing him deeper inside as she clenches around him. 

Jason’s eyes pinch shut as he loses his tightly held control, and Rose rolls her hips until he falls to her side. “Holy hell,” he gasps softly, muffled by his pillow. 

“Yeah.” Rose shouldn’t, but she can’t help but kiss his left temple, tucking them in and tossing the spent condom aside. 

She spends the night committing every line of his body to memory. And it helps soothe her in the weeks, months, and years ahead. 

---

The next morning, Rose rolls to get closer to him, only to find his side of the bed empty. In his place, Jason left a small, folded piece of paper, and Rose takes her time undoing all the creases. 

Rose,

You’ve no idea how amazing you are. I hope last night isn’t the end of it, but I understand if it is.

--Jason.

Beneath his name, Jason’s inscribed his number, and though Rose memorizes it within seconds, she always keeps the note close, in her utility belt or between her bra and her plastron, next to her beating heart. 

[business-as-usual-bats]

Tim's First Christmas as Robin

Tim walked through the hallways of his school with a smile because he officially had the best life ever.

Why? Because Tim Drake was Robin. He helped people. He saved lives. He worked with literal superheroes. It was hard work, exhausting in every way, it took up all his time, and he still had a lot to learn, but at the end of the day he made a difference in the world.

Batman had begun to warm up to him, too, trusting him more with patrolling certain areas alone and handling common thieves and muggers. Batman even complimented him yesterday!! After Tim solved a mystery about Penguin's disappearing shipments in Gotham Harbor, Bruce said, "Good job" and kinda gave a smile!! According to Dick, that's, like, practically the equivalent of a hug!

And since Dick is coming back to Wayne Manor for the holidays, Batman said Tim doesn't have to go patrolling on Christmas, so he can be with his family.

Tim's parents! That's the best part! His parents were finally coming home after being gone half the year. They were supposed to be home months ago... for the first day of the school year... Halloween... Thanksgiving... but they kept getting held up at their jobs. But this time they promised they'd be there on Christmas Eve! Tim went ahead and put up Christmas lights and a tree in preparation. He had it all planned out. He even got ingredients to make gingerbread cookies. Never before had Tim felt so... festive. A few times he caught himself humming along to the overplayed Christmas jingles on the radio.

So, now was the last day of school before winter break. His last class was Algebra and he took his usual seat by the windows. Everyone was goofing off, the teacher didn't even bother to try to actually teach anything by this point. The class comedian of his peers was talking to everyone,

"Nah, I'm just sayin' it's true! Whenever you're watching a movie and sex scene comes up then -BAM- your parents are right there outta nowhere."

Everyone is laughing, including Tim. God, that'd be embarrassing. Does this really happen that often to other people?

"Yeah, your mom be ignoring you all damn day and then she's suddenly all about your life when people start making out. Like how does she know? It's gotta be like the same magic Santa uses to sense who's naughty or who's nice."

"Shit, man. My dad could be gone for 8 years but as soon as that scene comes up he's right there behind me sayin, 'Hey, son. Watcha watchin'?'"

The jokes are silly and dumb and it makes time pass by quickly. Thr bell signaling the end of the day rings and Tim sets off for Wayne Manor.

Patrol goes well, too. It was all business as normal until the Dynamic Duo got back to the cave and who should be there but

"Dick!" Tim yelled, getting swept up in a classic Grayson hug. "Put me down!"

"Merry Christmas, Tiny Tim!"

"It's not Christmas yet."

"It's Christmas every day if you carry love in your heart." Dick grinned and plopped him on the floor. "I got you the coolest and totally-not-a-robin-motorcycle gift ever!"

"A what?" Tim squeaked. "Motorcycle?? But I don't have anything nearly as cool to give you-"

"Now, now, I specifically said it wasn't a motorcycle. But if it were, then I'd tell you it's fine and not to worry about it! It's Christmas!"

"Dick-"

"I'm gonna hug you again-"

"Don't you dare!"

"Pfft. Fine. But hey, I heard your parents are coming home?"

"YEAH!" And Tim didn't mean to shout but the words starting pouring, "They're gonna be home in time for Christmas and I put up the stockings I made, and I have a list of all of dad's favorite Christmas songs, and I'm gonna make gingerbread cookies cuz I found this awesome recipe online, and I got them the perfect gifts because you see last year my mom was complaining on how she didn't have any earrings that matched my dad's favorite tie that he wears all the time which I think was her way of telling him to get rid of the tie but instead I got him a new tie that's the same color and got matching earrings and-"

"Woah! But you'll still stop by the Manor to say hi, right?"

"Duh! I'm not about to miss out on Alfred's homemade Christmas cookies you guys brag about all the time."

"Good! How was patrol?" And they chatted away until Tim decided it was late and he should go home.

The days dragged on until finally finally it was the morning of December 24th. His parents would be home any second! He waited, looking out the window now and again, watching the clock tick by...

And he waited

And waited

They were late.

He called his mom twice, and she answered the second time.

"Yes? Tim, honey?"

"Mom? Um... are you guys almost here or...?"

"What? Oh no, I thought we told you. We aren't going to make it in time for Christmas. You see-" and she explained how an artifact they'd found was accused of being a fake and how much of a legal mess they were in... and... more excuses... "I'm sorry, honey. You know if we could we'd much rather spend Christmas with you. We sent your present in the mail."

"I... I know, Mom." Tim sighed, "I'm not mad. I understand."

"You're such a kind boy, Timothy. We love you so much. We never stop thinking of you."

"I love you, too." And she hung up.

Tim stared ahead blankly, the phone still in his hand. He wasn't sure how long he just stood there, but suddenly his phone rang again

"Hello?" Tim answered. His voice sounded distant to him, like he wasn't even the one talking.

"Tim!" It was Dick, "Hey, so I know we should probably know this but, um, are you allergic to any nuts or spices? Like, even just a small allergy to something?"

"No."

"Sweet! Thanks! Hey... are you alright?"

"Yeah."

"You seem... off."

"I'm fine. I'm just... distracted with my family. They... aren't as excited as I am to be home."

"Oh, that sucks. But they made it home, right? They're there with you now?"

"Yeah, no. They made it here okay." Tim didn't know why he was lying... Was he ashamed? And at who? His parents? Himself? "I should go."

"Well, alright. See you later!"

"Yeah." Tim sighed and threw the phone away from him in disgust.

His eyes stung, he quickly wiped away the beginnings of tears. This was stupid to cry about. Not worth it. Why cry? Just because his parents broke another promise? Because they say they love him but they keep leaving? Why don't they stay? Did he do something wrong? Is he that horrible that they don't want to be around him? Why isn't he good enough for them? Why don't they like him? What can he do better?

Tim started crying and immediately hated himself for it, but he couldn't stop. It all seemed so unfair. It hurt. And the hurt made him want to be comforted, and he wanted his mom here to comfort him. But she's not. She can't be. And somehow, Tim knew it was his fault.

He looked at the Christmas tree blurred through his tears and thought briefly about pushing it down. But that wouldn't fix anything, would it? No. It wouldn't bring his parents home. There was nothing to do about it.

He curled up on the couch facing the Christmas tree and let the tears fall until he could sleep.

The next day was Christmas. Yay.

Tim didn't feel like celebrating. Or moving in general. He managed to slink over to the living room and turn on the TV. Maybe he could watch something to distract him from Christmas.

Or every channel could be focused on the importance of family during Christmas time. Literally. Every. Channel. Christmas and love. Christmas and love. Fuck Christmas. It's was just a stupid commercialized waste of time! Why's he even doing this Christmas shit? He's pretty sure his mom is Jewish anyway! Ugh!

But then he clicked the channel and woah- that's more skin showing than he expected. Suddenly, he remembered:

"Whenever you're watching a movie and a sex scene comes up then -BAM- your parents are right there!"

What if...

He changed to one of the more "mature" channels debuting their Christmas specials. It was sappy romance stuff, which isn't the worst, but he was more of a scifi kind of guy.

It was a typical plotline. A lady is scheduled to marry a prince but she's in love with a commoner guy. Lazy writing. It's been done before. But maybe...

Is it too childish to hope for a miracle on Christmas?

He sat with rapt attention through the whole ordeal. At one point the lady runs away to meet her forbidden true love (even though it's totally going to get her caught and in trouble and might even get the lover killed). They start kissing and taking off their clothes, but Tim isn't paying much attention now because this is the moment! He listened for the doorbell, for a knock, for a car, for a voice... But no parents came running. No one was there at the door. Why did he even hope...

Tim glared angrily at the two naked people on screen, "Is it too much to wish for my family to be here on Christmas??"

Then a *ding dong* came from the front of the house. Tim paused the TV. Wait. Could it be?

One second he was in the living room, the next he was swinging the front door open without any hesitation,

"Mom?? Dad??" Tim called excitedly before realizing who was there, "Oh... Hey, Dick. Uh, come on in." He tried not to look disappointed.

"I thought you were going to visit the Manor?" Dick pouted, walking in. Only then did Tim notice Alfred was following him.

"I lost track of time." Tim said honestly, "I'm sorry." Oh God, what if Bruce was upset with him? What if Bruce hates him now?? What if he ends up leaving Tim for months at a time and lies about being home for Christmas??

"Where are your parents?" Dick asked, but it was more rhetorical than anything. He could no doubt see the puffy eyes of someone who spent the night crying. Tim answered anyway.

"Africa."

"Still, on Christmas?" Alfred raised both his eyebrows in disapproval.

"It's not their fault! It's... work stuff. They don't... they said they'd rather be here with me but... It's not a big deal."

"Well, as that may be, Master Timothy, I insist you join us today and tonight at Wayne Manor."

"Yeah!" Dick chirped. "Alfred made a ton of food, like, all of your favorites! Didn't you, Al?"

"Indeed, I did, sir."

"But, Bruce-"

"Is the one that asked us to come and make sure you're okay." Dick smiled, "He's waiting for us. Actually, I think he really missed you on patrol last night."

"Really?"

"If I may," Alfred whispered, "Master Bruce also specifically requested I hang up a stocking with your name on it."

No way. But... Alfred wouldn't lie about that would he... Bruce really... Wow

"...Right. I'll visit him as scheduled and then leave." By the glint in Dick's eye though, Tim had a feeling he'd be staying in the Manor longer than planned. And honestly? That sounded a lot better than staying in this house alone.

"Great! I'll get your coat." Dick walked around the corner to the living room. "It's this way, right? Oh. Huh. I remember this movie."

Oh.

"TURN IT OFF IT'S NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE-"

The end.

[sanjisock]

Fuck, Marry, Kill (or, how Usopp becomes the best matchmaker of the sea without really trying)

ao3

1.

It’s a classic , Usopp said. Any pirate worth their salt would play this at least once , he said.

Sanji would say he’s around eighty-percent sure Usopp just made this game up, but Sanji is always eighty-percent sure Usopp made something up just by principle alone. It certainly doesn’t help Usopp’s case that Nami is grinning wide beside him, notepad and quill in hands.

“So,” Nami echoes Usopp’s earlier question cheerfully, and her smile is way too beautiful and magnificent for the words that come out of her mouth next: “fuck, marry, kill. Who’s your pick?”

+

2.

There are rules to this stupid game. Actual fucking rules . Not even the world government kind, the ones they break on a daily basis anyways because, hey, pirates. These rules are the kind that forces you to pay Nami a hefty amount of Berries if you break them, which, on the deck of Sunny, means nothing short of Serious Business.

Nami had taken to the game with surprising interest as soon as Usopp told her about it, but then again, she talked about it with the same tone she uses when she’s going to swindle a lot of money from an unsuspecting poor fellow (read: Zoro), so maybe this isn’t much of a surprise at all.

The rules, pinned next to the spice cupboard and right under the dishwashing duty roster, are as follows:

A crew member must be picked whenever possible.

Only one name is to be given for each category.

If, and only if, one has come up with a legitimate reason not to pick a crew member, it has to be someone they’ve met, known, or at the very least, heard.

Choices are based on pure objective reasoning and any FUCK/MARRY shall not be interpreted as anything resembling interest or, worse, intention to pursue. This means you, Sanji.

The same applies to KILL. This means you, Zoro.

Individual answers are confidential and worth B500,000/answer, or 10% of your last loot, whichever is higher.*

*) Payments are to be made in cash to Nami.

Really, it shouldn’t have been a surprise at all. Sanji thinks he saw her eyes turn Berries-shaped. He personally thinks she still looks beautiful, and tells her as much.

She tells him this doesn’t excuse him from the game, and expects his answer by the end of the week.

+

3.

Sanji is the first victim by elimination — Chopper is out of the game because he is young, innocent and, ultimately, not human, Zoro is sleeping like the oaf he is, Luffy doesn’t seem to have figured out that the thing below his belt is useful for something other than peeing, and the others have left the ship to explore the newest island they’ve just docked at.

Sanji silently wishes the marines would start attacking them just so they could distract Nami and Usopp from the shitty game.

It’s not that Sanji wants to ruin what is — Nami’s expensive fine notwithstanding — ultimately some harmless fun. Sanji has never had problems going along with the crew’s antics, and between declaring war on the World Government and punching a royalty so hard they call a marine admiral after you, this one is far from outrageous by any means. He doesn’t think it’s physically possible for him to give Nami a no for an answer, either.

It’s just that... he doesn’t actually have an answer.

He’s a romantic person by nature. He likes to make everyone happy, and when that doesn’t work out, he likes to make everyone he gives a shit about happy. He does preen from the more... feminine attention, but between the bustling customers of Baratie, entering and leaving as they please, he never learned how to pick favorites.

Nami points at rule number two.

Usopp suggests he should just pick Zoro for MARRY, because they already fight like an old married couple anyways.

Sanji threatens to put Usopp under KILL and break the fifth rule, exactly in that order. Usopp has enough self preservation instinct to shut up really fast after that.

+

Brook has never heard of the game, which gives more credibility to the Usopp-Made-This-Game-Up Theory, but it’s not like there’s stopping them at this point, so Sanji fumes and glares, but in silence. Usopp smartly stays quiet.

Brook asks if Nami would show him her panties if he puts her under MARRY. Nami clocks him in the skull.

He settles on Zoro for MARRY.

“What,” Sanji says, stunned.

“Well, Zoro-san is a disciplined, reputable swordsman,” Brook explains, “and any decent swordsman would make a responsible husband.”

That...probably makes sense in Swordsman-Speak, or whatever language people like Zoro, who substitutes normal greeting with stabbing and slashing, speak in. Whatever. Sanji is civilized , and will not bother to even try to understand.

Brook can’t name anyone under KILL. He is, however, curious if anyone wants to pick him, considering he’s already dead, yohoho, skull joke!

Nami groans and hits his skull, again.

+

Franky has heard of the game, but he can’t pinpoint where he’s exactly heard it from, and Sanji suspects it’s from Usopp.

Franky also puts Zoro under MARRY. Franky is so not on Sanji’s list of favorite people today.

“Not you too,” Sanji groans, scandalized, because Brook is approximately a billion years old and therefore would understandably consider Zoro’s neanderthal values desirable, but Franky is, like, the future . Cyborgs are essentially sentient robots.

Franky shrugs. “He’s a super dude, his fights make great shanties, he can help me carry the ship materials —”

“ I can help you carry the ship materials,” Sanji interrupts, and wonders how his life has gotten to a point where he’s trying to compete with Zoro for Franky’s hand in marriage.

“ And ,” Franky presses, “he won’t chew me out for burping on the table after dinner.”

Sanji’s eyes twitch at that. Well. In sickness and health, sure, but that? That’s just barbaric.

“He’s a great dude who breaks the Sunny’s railings once a week,” Sanji points out, switching his strategy. If he can’t win, at least Zoro should lose, too.

His strategy backfires as Franky raises his eyebrow at him and asks, “Speaking of, didn’t you break the front railing yesterday?”

Franky puts Sanji on KILL for that.

Sanji considers smashing his feet through the railing again, just because he can.

+

Robin immediately picks Zoro for MARRY, because blah yadda blah bushido code, something something gentlemanly, yeah, yeah. Sanji mentally apologizes for tuning her out, but if he has to listen to beautiful Robin-chan talking about Zoro being a good husband, Sanji won’t be able to resist arguing, and that just won’t do. He isn’t about to question a lady’s decision, however irrational. Nobody’s perfect after all — not even Robin.

She also puts Zoro under KILL for ruining her flower bed last week when he accidentally dropped his oversized training weight (which is unnecessarily huge and totally an overcompensation for something ), and he falls for her all over again. Robin really is perfect.

She then tries to clarify whether normal Franky and Cyborg Franky count as one.

“Uh,” Nami says, confused, “would it even make a difference?”

“Nami,” Robin says as she leans forward, chin in hand and a mysterious smile playing on her lips, “the hands make all the difference.”

Robin puts Cyborg Franky under FUCK. Sanji blinks.

Usopp grimaces.

Nami has a distant look on her face, the kind of expression that guys wear when they witness other guys get hit in the nuts.

They pointedly don’t ask , and back away from the room slowly.

+

4.

The final tally is:

Sanji gets one flattering FUCK (he hasn’t found out from whom, and honestly, considering the available options of Usopp, Luffy and Nami, doesn’t want to take his chances), Robin gets two (Nami shiftily avoids everyone’s eyes for this one), Cyborg Franky gets one (Franky opens his mouth to question the specificity, turns beet red by his own realization, and promptly closes it), and Zoro gets one ( ew , is what Sanji would like to say, but Sanji is man enough to admit that Zoro can get it, considering those abs and deltoids he keeps flashing due to his unexplainable aversions to clothing. Fucking caveman).

Zoro gets a whopping five for MARRY.

That’s literally all the strawhats, minus Luffy (who probably doesn’t even know what marriage is), Chopper, Zoro himself, and Sanji.

What the actual fuck .

+

5.

Sanji succumbs to curiosity and pays Nami his ten percent.

Zoro put Sanji under KILL, he finds out.

It’s not a surprise. Hell, it’s the most predictable thing coming out of this game—the sky is blue, water is wet, and Zoro puts Sanji under KILL. Whatever. Sanji still hasn’t decided on his list quite yet, but he is certain he’d put Zoro under KILL, too.

Nami asks him if he wants to know what Zoro’s FUCK and MARRY are, and Sanji politely declines because he just doesn’t care which random chick Zoro wants to do the deed with and not because the way his stomach clenches oddly at the thought, really . It’s probably that beautiful marine lady that always tags along with Smoker — Tashigi-chan or something. Zoro always acts funny around her, even when the others never noticed. He’s an open book to Sanji like that.

Sanji walks away and doesn’t give it a second thought.

Bastard.

+

6.

He gave it a second thought.

And a third. And a fourth. And damn his shitty traitorous brain to hell, a fifth.

By the time lunch rolls around Zoro and Tashigi are married with a quaint little dojo at the foot of a mountain and blessed with three bespectacled, green-haired children Sanji can’t even bring himself to hate because they’d smile just so when their Uncle Sanji makes their favorite apple pie.

Not that there’s anything to hate. About Zoro and Tashigi-chan, that is. Well, there’s always something to hate about Zoro because he’s Zoro , and Sanji would probably nag him a little for receiving the affections from such a beautiful lady like Tashigi, but there’s absolutely nothing deplorable about the idea in general. They’d get along swimmingly anyways, probably spending hours and hours just talking about shitty swords and other sharp, pointy things as their three children play in their backyard overlooking a beautiful deep blue sea, the setting sun painting a warm backdrop on the wooden walls of their dojo.

He blinks as his train of thought crashes and derails into a nearby mental chasm.

He blinks again, just for good measure.

Holy fucking shit, he has a problem .

+

7.

“Marines!” Usopp yells from the crow’s nest, and Sanji wakes up, eyes still bleary, to three marine ships surrounding Sunny, cannons loaded and aimed towards the deck.

Be careful what you wish for, he feels like telling his past self.

He rushes to the deck to get a clearer view on their enemies, and hell , he’s convinced the universe finds pleasure in finding new ways to fuck him over because he sees Smoker on the helm of the largest marine ship.

And if there’s Smoker, there’s —

“Shit,” Zoro mutters from beside him, and Sanji only needs to follow his gaze to see Tashigi walk up towards the helm to stand beside Smoker. Because of course Zoro would notice her immediately. There are roughly a thousand marines on three of these galleons and she’s the first person Zoro sees. Great. Awesome. That would make a romantic story to tell their three green-haired children.

God damn it. His brain really needs to stop with the children already. He considers going for a check up with Chopper just for this.

A thousand bloodthirsty marines prove to be a good enough distraction from Zoro and Tashigi’s imaginary children, and soon Sanji is lost in the rhythm of the fight, almost enjoying it. He kicks a marine on the back of the head, does a spinning kick to immobilize another ten, and jumps aside to avoid a gunshot —

Only to find himself face to face with Tashigi.

“Black Leg —” Tashigi says, immediately taking a fighting stance, but Sanji is faster.

Before he knows it, he finds himself kicking the two guys guarding her, lifts and drives his right leg on her sword and into the cabin wall right beside her head, effectively pinning her to the wall. Sanji doesn’t kick women, would never harm a woman, but anything around her is fair game and he feels almost guilty for trying to wrestle a loophole in his own principle.

He needs to do this, though. He has to. She’s a marine, his enemy, a threat. And… there’s something he needs to know.

He blurts without thinking, “fuck, marry, kill. Who would you pick?”

Tashigi starts. “What?”

He thinks he’s blushing, but he figures if he wants to avoid embarrassment the ship has sailed a long time ago so he says, “out of the strawhats. If you had to choose, who would you fuck, marry and kill?”

Tashigi narrows her eyes and pulls harder on her sword. “Are you joking, pirate?!”

Sanji is stronger, though. He pushes her sword deeper into the wall. “I’m sorry, mademoiselle, but I don’t joke about this.”

Tashigi wears the expression of someone who wonders what kind of life decisions she’s made that has led her into this situation, which is something Sanji can relate with. “Well, fuck you , pirate. I’d kill you .”

That’s fair, Sanji supposes. “And marry?”

She opens her mouth, stops herself from saying at least three other different curses before turning an interesting shade of red.

She mumbles her answer.

“Yes, Tashigi-chan?”

“Don’t call me Tashigi- chan ,” she snarls, much louder, before muttering again, though Sanji can hear it this time, a low, shy, “well, that swordsman of yours did save my life back in Punk Hazard.”

Tashigi blushes brighter, and Sanji knows a lost cause when he sees one.

Zoro and Tashigi have four children this time in his head, three girls and one boy, and it sucks, so fucking unfair that everyone wants to marry Zoro, with his stupid hair and stupid face and stupid everything. What’s so good about him anyways? The moron doesn’t even have depth perception . He doesn’t deserve all these beautiful girls, wouldn’t even be able to cherish them and treat them with love like Sanji would.

Who’s to say that they would know him either? Zoro’s a moron , after all, and he probably only has, like, three sets of expressions. Sure, Sanji can read his tics, knows the way Zoro clenches and unclenches his left hand when he sees a potentially strong opponents, the way Zoro would rub the back of his neck when he’s embarrassed — but these girls don’t know that. He doesn’t think anyone knows that, and without knowing the real Zoro, how could they make him happy? Would they know how to find him when he gets lost? Would they cook him his favorite food every day? Would they love him as much Sanji does —

Wait.

Sanji pauses.

And.

Breathes.

Tashigi has started protesting now, demanding her swords to be returned now that she’s gone along with his ridiculous demands, but it all sounds so distant now, because.

He loves. Zoro.

Sanji inhales. Then exhales.

He loves Zoro .

He sees it again, the dojo at the foot of a hill overlooking the beautiful blue sea, but this time the dojo belongs to Zoro and him , and two of the four children have blonde hair, and the sea outside is All Blue. The imagination seems so vivid because somewhere along the line that has become his dream , a future he envisioned as clearly as finding All Blue and witnessing Luffy become a Pirate King.

Fuck, he’s in love with Zoro.

“Shit,” he says heartily. “I’m in love with Zoro.”

“What?” Tashigi says, perplexed. Sanji hopes it’s because she can’t hear him amidst the cacophony of gunfire, swords, and bodies hitting the floor.

He lowers his leg and steps back, still in shock by the revelation.

Tashigi is looking at him in confusion, or at least he assumes she does, because he’s no longer paying much attention to his surroundings. How could he, when he’s just come to such a huge revelation about himself, holy fucking hell he’s in love with Zoro —

A passing marine takes the chance and stabs a sword through his lungs.

+

8.

The last thing he remembers is choking on air, mentally laughing at the fucked up irony of living on a ship surrounded by endless seas just to meet his end by drowning on dry land. He thinks he saw flashes of metal, of Zoro’s stupid green hair and stupider face, torn apart between anger and concern, Sanji’s name for once stumbled out of his lips — but Sanji is pretty sure he imagined this last part up. He is a romantic fool like that.

He blinks himself awake to the familiar smell of Chopper’s infirmary, the oddly soothing mix of medicine and sweets. He tries to sit up as far as his bandaged torso would allow, and when he catches the orange of Nami’s hair his heart warms but doesn’t flutter. It hasn’t been, he realizes, for quite some time.

He really is in love with Zoro. God damn it.

“Sanji?” Nami says when their eyes finally meet, and she hurriedly stands up, “oh my god, you’re awake, I need to wake Chopper up, Chopper —”

“Don’t worry, Nami-san,” he says, catching her wrist just in time before she rushes out of his reach, “I’m fine. Let our doctor sleep for some time.”

“But,” she says, but it’s a token resistance at best, as she’s already sitting down again. She tugs his grip lightly at that — a small, playful movement — but he feels the pull reverberate through his arm and to his chest, jarring him into a coughing fit.

He thinks he’s coughed up both of his lungs before a glass of water touches his lips. It takes him a few gulps and a couple more deep breaths before he realizes Nami is rambling a guilty “oh my god, Sanji-kun, oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

He clears his throat and tries to give her his best smile, “please don’t apologize, Nami-san! A beautiful face like yours shall not be marred with unnecessary worries.”

Nami sighs, but it’s fond. “You were unconscious for a whole week,” she says, squeezing his shoulder, “let me fuss over you for a while.”

Sanji whips his head towards her in shock, mouth hanging open

“A week,” he echoes. No wonder he feels so sluggish. He thought it might have been the medicine, but apparently he danced far too near to the grim reaper than he was comfortable with.

His gaze drifts to take in more of the infirmary, afraid that he’s missed more important details like not remembering an entire week of his life . For the most part everything seems to be in place, large shelves filled with Chopper’s neatly-arranged medical books beside his work table, with complicated looking medical appliances situated more at the corner of the room, near the door. His gaze eventually falls on the small bedside table and he does a double take.

Zoro’s katanas — all three of them — are leaning against the foot of the table. Sanji frowns; it’s rare to see them without their owner, and rarer still to see them being parted with so voluntarily, away from the swordsman's sight.

“Yeah, Zoro was here,” Nami answers the unvoiced question as she notices what he’s been staring at, “been by your bedside all week, actually. We had a roster, just in case you —” Nami pauses at that, looks away and — did her voice waver at the end there? “You know. Anyway, didn’t even need the whole roster thing in the end because Zoro just wouldn’t leave. Stubborn man. Just his luck you woke up when he took a bathroom break; serves him right for growling at me when I offered him to switch on the first day. He looked like he was ready to gouge his remaining eye out and leave it in the infirmary if it meant keeping an eye on you, science be damned.”

Sanji blinks, again, at the story. There’s a weird tug at this chest. He lifts his hand up to touch it, and it feels warm, from the inside.

“It’s frankly kind of cute, how he’s been acting like a mother hen,” Nami continues, and her smile gains a mischievous edge as she adds, “or, you know, like a worried husband.”

Sanji wants to say something to that, but Chopper probably gave him some strong stuff because his tongue feels heavy and he can feel the strong pull of sleep dragging him back to unconsciousness.

He sees darkness at the edges of his vision, and doesn’t think at all as he says, “yeah, he would make a good husband,” and eyes already closed, he sees the house at the foot of the hill and mumbles, “I’d marry him.”

Chopper’s medicine really is strong.

+

9.

The next time Sanji opens his eyes, there’s a cottony rasp on the inside of his mouth and dread looming at the back of his mind. It’s reminiscent of days when they partied too hard and he drank one too many glasses of liquor, but worse , because he remembers every single word he said to Nami.

He considers asking Chopper on his stance on euthanasia.

It doesn’t help that the person sitting beside his bed is not the ever-beautiful, ever-wonderful Nami, but the last person he’d rather see after his accidental confession. He has no doubt that Nami has told Zoro everything — has told everyone everything — and while his body has mostly recovered from the injuries, he’s pretty sure he could still die from embarrassment.

He sits up on the bed, scrambling for an excuse, “Zoro —”

“You almost died,” Zoro interrupts before Sanji could even finish his sentence, and takes Sanji’s hand in his. “Don’t you dare do that again, Shit Cook.”

Sanji stares at their hands, and wonders if Chopper’s medicine is even stronger than he thought. “What does it mean to you?”

Zoro shrugs. “You know what,” he answers vaguely.

Sanji doesn’t , though. Zoro shifts in his seat, looking away, seemingly embarrassed by his own words, and Sanji is left wondering what the fuck is happening. Zoro is the type of person who gives brutally honest and oftentimes insensitive answers. He doesn’t give cryptic, vague answers — that’s more of Sanji’s department. “What?”

Zoro pulls his hand away, and Sanji hates how his own hand feels very cold all of a sudden. “You know. Our answers for Usopp’s stupid game.”

Sanji would rather take another sword to the chest than to continue with this conversation, so he does the cowardly thing and practically leaps out of the bed. “I’m not in the mood to talk about that.”

Zoro is faster, though — Sanji is blaming all the medicines in his bloodstream for his slow reaction — and manages to catch Sanji by the wrist. “Where are you going?”

“Away. Out.” He pats his pockets with his free hand, but doesn’t find his cigarettes, unsurprisingly. Fuck, he needs a smoke. “In case you forgot, I haven’t been out for a week from this shitty room.”

“Seriously?” Zoro growls in reply, tightening his grip. “That’s all you got to say? Didn’t you pay for my answers? Nami told me you — if that sea witch is lying again —”

“I told you not to call Nami-san like that,” he replies, almost instinctively, feeling more and more agitated by the turn of the conversation. “What the fuck are you talking about, brainless mosshead.”

Zoro glowers at him, face oddly serious. “Did you or did you not get my answers for the stupid game?”

Sanji is going to lose it. Is Zoro seriously trying to rub this whole thing in his face? The fact that Sanji wants to marry him, even after knowing Zoro only puts him under kill? Knowing that Zoro doesn’t find him desirable in any way, that he’d prefer having three wonderful well-mannered kids with a beautiful marine lady?

“You put me under KILL!” He yells, unable to stop himself. “If this is your way of telling me you want to kill me, drop it. Way too roundabout for your style, Marimo. And just in case you’re wondering, no, I didn’t bother to find out who you want to fuck. Or marry.” He looks away, trying not to choke on his own heart. “Happy?”

Zoro’s eyes widen comically at that, and he loosens his grip on Sanj’s wrist in surprise; Sanji doesn’t miss the chance and kicks him on the chest.

Zoro flies out of the infirmary through the door with a satisfying bang , and Sanji relishes his victory for a moment before growing reluctantly concerned as Zoro doesn’t get up from that. Surely he didn’t kick him that hard, did he? He jogs towards the dust-covered body on the deck, and finds Zoro with his head in his hand, mouth twisting into a hysterical laughter.

“Stupid cook,” Zoro says as soon as Sanji’s close enough to hear him, “are you jealous?”

Sanji growls, and pointedly doesn’t blush. “I’m going to kill you.”

When Zoro drops his hand and looks up, he doesn’t look like he’s making fun of Sanji, though. He looks surprised, and even almost… hopeful? “You are jealous.”

Sanji has about a thousand retorts to that, but all of them die in his lips as Zoro tugs him down by the hand, pulling him to crouch right in front of Zoro. Their faces are really close like this, and Sanji can’t look away.

“Cook,” Zoro says when Sanji doesn’t say anything, “Nami said you put me under your MARRY. Is that true?”

Sanji refuses to answer, but the way he looks away and blushes like a fourteen-year-old is probably a good enough answer for Zoro. Zoro laughs, tightens his grip on Sanji’s wrist and pulls him into a kiss.

Sanji’s life needs to have fewer twists before he dies from heart attack at the tender age of twenty-one.

When they part, Zoro doesn’t lean away; presses their foreheads together instead, his hand large and warm on the nape of Sanji’s neck. There’s a big grin plastered across Zoro’s flushed face, the kind that Sanji only sees whenever the swordsman comes across an alcohol he likes, or wins a particularly hard fight, or — as Sanji begins to understand, heart hammering in his chest like it’s trying to escape — whenever Zoro is really, really happy, apparently. And to think that Sanji is the one who puts that smile on Zoro’s face —

“I put you under MARRY, you dumbass,” Zoro says, though his insult doesn’t carry much weight, considering the stupid grin still wouldn’t leave his face. “Put you under everything , Cook. Kill, fuck, marry — the whole deal. Because that’s how far you’ve messed me up — you idiot, stupid, annoying, oblivious Shit Cook,” he presses another kiss, chaste and light and all too quick, leaving tingling sensations on Sanji’s lips. “I am in love with you.”

The words rattle against Sanji’s ribcage, his heart threatening to burst from his chest. His face feels warm all over, and he’d look away, except for the fact that Zoro’s hands are gently cupping his face, thumb rubbing absentmindedly against Sanji’s cheek.

“You’d make the shittiest husband ever,” Sanji tells him, because Zoro might be the love of his life — and ain’t that a thought that could make his heart miss a couple of beats — but he still wouldn’t miss a chance to tease Zoro.

“Yeah.” Zoro simply agrees at that, laughing softly. “I’d be your shittiest husband, though.”

Sanji doesn’t find a reason to argue with that, heart jackrabbiting against his chest, and simply leans for another kiss.

+

10.

By unanimous decision, and with some heavy censorship by replacing FUCK with SLEEP, they decided that Chopper is at least old and human enough to know what’s going on with the game.

“I’m not happy at all that you decided to finally include me in the game, bastard!” Chopper said with a happy wiggle, his hooves clapping together excitedly.

He puts Zoro under SLEEP. Literally. Chopper thinks Zoro makes a great pillow, and a great sleeping partner because he doesn’t move around.

Chopper purses his lips at MARRY.

“The idea of human marriage is still foreign to me,” he says, explaining his silence, “there are too many factors involved in human marriage. For us reindeers, all we look for in a mate is one who can provide us food.”

As if on cue, Zoro throws a large fish onto the deck. There are three large slashes on its belly, crossing through its gills.

Chopper picks Zoro for MARRY.

Sanji resists the urge to bash his head repeatedly on the ship mast, and doesn’t go through with it only because Zoro leans in and steals a kiss from him, effectively blocking his path.

Bastard. Shittiest husband ever .

[marshmallow-the-vampire-slayer]

MTVS Epic Rewatch #198

BTVS 7x14 First Date

Stray thoughts

1) I really don’t think Snyder would’ve gotten such a huge… oh, wait. Inferiority complex. Yep. He totally would.

2) I really don’t understand why Giles is so upset about Buffy having Spike’s chip removed? Like, he worked alongside Angel when he had a soul and not once did he show concern about Angel attacking them or going on a killing spree. Moreover, the chip had proven to be useless if Spike was under the influence of The First, so whether he had it or not was kind of a moot point at the moment.

Oh. I think maybe Giles was upset that Buffy didn’t check with him first. Like, how dare she make such an important decision without asking for my opinion?

3) Chao-Ahn is hands down my favorite potential. There’s no contest, really.

4) How convenient…

GILES I have to ask—why on Earth did you make that decision?

BUFFY Guess it was instinct, like you were talking about.

GILES I made that up!

5) It’s ironic that Giles accuses Buffy of letting her feelings cloud her judgment because I think that’s exactly what he was doing. Giles despised Spike, and I don’t blame him, he had reason to. But he was letting his hatred of Spike get in the way of seeing the bigger picture: if the First wanted Spike dead, then they should guard him at all costs because he might be a key player in defeating The First – as he rather obviously turned out to be…

GILES Buffy, I want more for you. Your feelings for him are coloring your judgment. I can hear it in your voice.

I’m not saying that Buffy’s feelings for Spike weren’t influencing her decision-making because they obviously were. But… Buffy’s emotions had always been her strength, her emotions are what drive her instinct, and the fact that she didn’t voice a logical reason to explain her choices doesn’t mean that they were wrong.

6) This is so me as a teacher...

PRINCIPAL WOOD Um, what're you doing tonight?

BUFFY Preparing for tomorrow's counseling sessions.

PRINCIPAL WOOD No, really.

BUFFY Watching a reality show about a millionaire.

7) Why would he keep his knife collection at the school, though? Doesn’t make any sense!

8) ICONIC!!

BUFFY You know, it's not even that he's acting that suspicious. It's just—there he is. On the hell mouth. All day, every day. That's got to be like being showered with evil. Only from underneath.

WILLOW Not really a shower.

9) That’s a clumsy way of admitting you once were…

WILLOW Right. Help you move on.

BUFFY Why does everybody in this house think I'm still in love with Spike?

10) I genuinely had to stop watching to laugh for a solid minute after this…

GILES Yes, and the language barrier is formidable. I was concerned that my Mandarin is a little thin, but as it turns out, she speaks Cantonese, which is thinner. But we muddled through, and, as I suspected, ice cream is a universal language.

BUFFY What'd she say?

GILES She's grateful to be in the land of plenty. 

11) Oh, the double standards…

ANDREW  Um, I follow Buffy's orders now. I'm redeeming myself for... killing you... I mean, for... killing Jonathan.

JONATHAN/FIRST Really, why? So you can earn a spot on her little pep squad? You think she'll ever let you in? You're a murderer.

ANDREW Confidentially, a lot of her people are murderers. Anya and Willow and Spike.

JONATHAN/FIRST Interesting. And you're the only one she makes seek redemption. Does that seem fair to you?

You forgot Giles on that list, Andrew.

12) I love the little callback to Conversations with Dead People…

BUFFY Well, it is unclear. That's why I chose a top that says, you know, I'm comfortable in a stodgy office or a swinging casual setting—or killing you, you know, if you're a demon.

ANYA It also says I sometimes get blood on my shoulder. Or it might be pizza. I don't think I can fix it.

13) Such a great delivery on Emma’s part here…

ANYA And I wasn't talking about your date anyway. I was talking about this sham date of Xander's. I think it's part of a plan to make me jealous.

BUFFY Well, it's not working.

ANYA Are you nuts? Of course it's working. Observe my bitter ranting. Hear the shrill edge of hysteria in my voice!

14) Oh, but he does care…

SPIKE Heard you got a date.

BUFFY Well, it's unclear. I mean, I have this whole theory about a promotion. Or he's evil.

SPIKE Buffy, I'm all right.

BUFFY You don't have to—

SPIKE What? Be noble? I'm not. Really, I'm all right. Think I still dream of a crypt for two with a white picket fence? My eyes are clear.

15) Oh, Xander, you’re still the same awkward dork you were seven seasons ago…

XANDER I'm just glad you're here. You're gonna love the coffee. Got myself a redeye—it's black coffee with a shot of espresso. It's kinda rough if you're not used to that sort of thing—

LISSA It's hot cocoa.

XANDER Well, sometimes I don't sleep too good.

16) ICONIC! So glad to see Giles’s gory doodles back, I fucking love them.

ANYA Giles made them for Chao-Ahn, and now she's locked herself in the bathroom. There’re other girls upstairs, and they're starting to complain.

GILES Those are flashcards. I made them to facilitate her training. Chao-Ahn never had a watcher. The language problem...

WILLOW You showed her these?

GILES I wanted her to understand the seriousness of her situation.

DAWN Holy crap!

17) Well, excuse you, Giles, but if I knew the world was going to end, I’d like to get laid. And seeing your flashcards is all the more reason to.

GILES For God's sake! How can anyone think about their social life? We are about to fight the original primal evil. These girls are in mortal danger. Didn't you see the flashcards? This isn't right.

18) I wonder why Xander doesn’t quite disclose exactly what was that he did to Anya… could it be that he knows is way worse than “bad” and he doesn’t want to seem like a douche in front of the girl he’s flirting with? I’ve said it before, I don’t necessarily disagree with Xander’s decision not to get married – although he truly picked the second to worst possible moment to do it. That being said, if you did the deed, own up to it, call it for what it was – you left your girlfriend at the altar.

19) It’s nice to hear Robin’s “origin” story, so to speak, but I felt the scene was lacking emotion and gravity. This was kind of a big revelation as far as the Slayer lore goes, you know? But it’s a scene that just goes under the radar.

Anyway, I also feel it would be very unlikely for Robin not to know Spike was the vampire that killed his mother before coming to Sunnydale. He says he was raised by a watcher, and we know there were written records about the Fanged Four. Plus, we know how Spike loved to brag, so if he truly tried to track him down, he would’ve found him.

20)

21) I still don’t see why they would take ANYTHING the First said at face value! Like, Giles hears this…

SPIKE Why did it appear to this one, then? I thought it was supposed to be pulling my strings.

ANDREW It said it wasn't time for you yet.

…and you can see that he’s thinking: “I’m right, he’s a danger to us all, we have to get rid of him immediately!”

But why would The First disclose its real intentions to any of them, especially the ones it’s trying to manipulate?

It’s just so dumb that they couldn’t read the First’s intentions properly, especially Giles of all people, it annoys me.

22) I find this moment really funny, but when exactly did Xander manage to send the bat signal? Or did he send the “I just got lucky” signal and thankfully they interpreted it wrong?

WILLOW No, it's a text message. Oh, it's from Xander. It's one of our signals.

AMANDA Signals?

WILLOW Yeah, the system we set up a while back. Like codes. Uh, this one's either "I just got lucky, don't call me for a while" or "my date's a demon who's trying to kill me."

KENNEDY You don't remember which?

WILLOW It was a long time ago.

DAWN Well, if we play the percentages...

GILES Something's eating Xander's head.

23) #awkward

24) And how annoying is it that Robin keeps LOOKING at Spike in the rear-view mirror? You’re not supposed to see anything in the mirror because he’s a vampire, ya mook! And if you happen to look in the mirror and not see someone who should be there, don’t you think you’d go “ooh”?

(btw, before anyone suggests this, he's not pretending he doesn’t know because later on when they’re fighting, Spike turns, and he goes: “you’re a vampire” all surprised!)

25) All you need to know about this scene, you’ll find it here.

26) This scene is glorious!

27) This is probably one of my favorite whole-gang dialogues in the show.

WILLOW What happened?

XANDER What do you think happened? Another demon woman was attracted to me. I'm going gay. I've decided I'm turning gay. Willow, gay me up. Come on, let's gay.

WILLOW What?

XANDER You heard me. Just tell me what to do. I'm mentally undressing Scott Bakula right now. That's a start, isn't it?

ANDREW Captain Archer...

XANDER Come on, let's get this gay show on the gay road. Help me out here.

BUFFY What if you just start attracting male demons?

DAWN Clem always liked you.

ANYA It would serve you right.

GILES Children, enough.

XANDER I'd need some stylish new clothes.

28) I think Giles’ speech would’ve resonated better if he hadn’t picked up the flashcards again, I mean, come on…

But in all seriousness, I get that he wants them to focus and he might have a good point that they seem to be distracted with trifles. But… don’t you think they needed that? Don’t you think amidst all the death and danger and apocalypses they’d want to have at least some crumbs of normalcy? Don’t you think that’s what has kept them sane and helped them plow through it all?

But let’s keep this reaction in mind for future episodes, okay? Let’s try and remember how Giles’s speech might have affected Buffy and the way she handled herself as a leader moving forward, okay?

29) I’m just going to leave this here…

SPIKE It, uh, it talked to the little boy. Said it wasn't time for me yet. I should move out. Leave town before it is time for me.

BUFFY No, you have to stay.

SPIKE You've got another demon fighter now.

BUFFY That's not why I need you here.

SPIKE Is that right? Why's that then?

BUFFY 'Cause I'm not ready for you to not be here.

30) This woman is just… stunningly beautiful.

31) Again, why would you believe whatever the ultimate evil has to tell you? I mean, this time, it was the truth, but Robin had no way of knowing that, and he immediately believes it? Everyone’s so dumb, it makes me angry.

32) I should probably re-read my recaps and figure out exactly when I started to get so pissed because I think I’m becoming angrier and angrier at the characters with each episode that I rewatch and I’m not even on Empty Places yet. I dread that moment.

33) If you’ve got this far, thank you for reading! If you enjoy my recaps and my blog, please consider supporting it on ko-fi. Thanks!

[kassandra-lorelei]

ROBIN MICHAEL JARED STEPHANIE

THANK YOU MY DUDE

Sorry this took so long - we left for the theatre earlier than I expected. 

Let’s see. I’ll start with Robin, because she’s really themain protagonist (kinda the way Selina Meyer is in Veep) and go through thelist from there

Full Name: Robin Ruth Carter (in the pilot her last name isCarter, but she soon goes back to her maiden name of Jenney)Gender and Sexuality: Cis female, heterosexualPronouns: She/HerEthnicity/Species: White AmericanBirthplace and Birthdate: A small town in Texas, some timein the 60s. She refuses to specify when she was born, but at time of writingshe’d be in her mid to late 50s.Guilty Pleasures: She rarely feels guilty about anything shedoes, the woman has little to no shame.Phobias: Aging, in some respects. She knows that as anactress her time on stage or on the screen is limited to how good she looks,and thinks that her career is all she has. She’s also not really a fan ofspiders or insects.What They Would Be Famous For: Her ideal method of gettingfamous (again) would be to make a return to the limelight. She’d more likely bein the headlines for storming a theatre stage and punching the lead actor, orsomething.What They Would Get Arrested For: She’s actually arrested inthe pilot for fighting her husband and his mistress.OC You Ship Them With: Her best friend, Michael. They had anaffair before the start of the show and there’s a lot of unresolved tension. Myideal end of the show is the two of them getting together properly.OC Most Likely To Murder Them: Probably their Broadwayproducer friend, Harry, who becomes her boss in the pilot. Or her ex-husband’sgirlfriend, Sabrina.Favorite Movie/Book Genre: She loves action thrillers andromance novels. But only the good romance novels, none of that sappyover-the-top crap.Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: When the guy in themovie/book grabs a girl to kiss her after she was mad at him, and suddenlyeverything’s all better. It pisses her off no-end, because she’d personallykick a guy in the nuts if they tried that on her.Talents and/or Powers: Acting is really all she knows how todo because she’s spent so long doing it.Why Someone Might Love Them: Because she’s strong, and smart(if a little over-dramatic sometimes), and when it comes right down to it sheadores the people who are closest to her.Why Someone Might Hate Them: Because she’s spiteful,bad-mouthed, and often bad-tempered too.How They Change: She goes from only really wanting fame andusing the people she loves to actually including them in her plans and trulyappreciating them. She also learns that their successes are not her failures, and that she can be a great actress in her own right.Why You Love Them: Because she’s an arsehole, but it’sbecause she’s been hurt and she’s trying not to be. When she opens up, she’sfun and kind of takes Stephanie under her wing because Stephanie’s actualmother is a huge disappointment of a person. I love the found-family dynamic.

Full Name: Michael Robert HenningGender and Sexuality: Cis male, heterosexualPronouns: He/HimEthnicity/Species: White AmericanBirthplace and Birthdate: Brooklyn New York, NY, January 5, 1958Guilty Pleasures: He really likes letting Robin loose on people who deserve it, even if what she says is devastating and he knows he should feel bad about it.Phobias: He isn’t crazy about flying, though he puts up with it when he absolutely has to.What They Would Be Famous For: Probably for being Robin Jenney’s other half, or for helping her out of some scrape she’s gotten herself into. He’s more of a behind-the-scenes kind of guy.What They Would Get Arrested For: Probably for helping Robin in something which he knows is illegal but he can’t stop her from doing it so he rolls his eyes and goes along with it. Though he’s more likely to be the person that she calls to bail her out of jail, like in the pilot.OC You Ship Them With: Robin, the two really just bounce off each other nicely.OC Most Likely To Murder Them: No one, really. He’s a decent person, apart from the whole affair he and Robin had. And Jerry, Robin’s ex-husband, wouldn’t try to get revenge that way.Favorite Movie/Book Genre: He likes crime dramas and detective novels. Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: The whole “dashing hero” cliche from romance and high dramas. That’s why he prefers grittier stories - the protagonists are less annoying to him.Talents and/or Powers: He’s good at organising things, and at managing people. That’s what makes him a good acting agent.Why Someone Might Love Them: He’s a nice person, and he’s there for other people when they need him.Why Someone Might Hate Them: He doesn’t always put up with other people’s shit, and has a penchant for doing the right thing even if it makes him unpopular.How They Change: He realises just how much he cares about Robin, and how much he enjoys spending time with her, no matter what that entails. Why You Love Them: Because he puts up with Robin, but also doesn’t put up with Robin if she goes too far. He protects her when he can, and is in many ways her moral compass, and the two really do need each other in a lot of ways.

Full Name: Jared Martin Desmond WrightGender and Sexuality: Cis male, bisexualPronouns: He/HimEthnicity/Species: Black BritishBirthplace and Birthdate: London Borough of Ealing, 12th November, 1994Guilty Pleasures: He will eat an entire tub of ice cream by himself and then deny it. Living with two other people, he gets in trouble over all the empty cartons a lot. The worst part is that he can do it and stay in shape.Phobias: He hates clowns, they give him the creeps.What They Would Be Famous For: If not for acting, then for being a model.What They Would Get Arrested For: Probably something he either didn’t mean to do, or something he was pushed into by Stephanie and Robin. He’s a bit like Michael in some ways, so the two of them can bond over how ridiculous the situations they find themselves in are.OC You Ship Them With: None. I’ve figured that he’ll have relationships over the course of the series, but I haven’t quite worked out who he’ll end up with.OC Most Likely To Murder Them: Robin would come closest to hurting him (even if she wouldn’t kill him), because she’s jealous of the fact that he and Stephanie are young so their looks are getting them parts.Favorite Movie/Book Genre: He doesn’t read a lot (other than scripts) because his work keeps him busy, but he loves superhero movies at the end of a long day when he wants to relax.Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: How the hero’s gun in movies never seems to run out of bullets. He thinks it’s good for tension if they do.Talents and/or Powers: He is extremely talented as an actor, and it gets him a lot of jobs. He’s also a good cook, and takes care of it a lot in the apartment.Why Someone Might Love Them: Because he’s funny, even if unintentionally. It makes him rather adorable sometimes.Why Someone Might Hate Them: He tries to control everything a lot, because he thinks he knows what might be best in that particular situation.How They Change: He learns to let go and relax a little bit more. He’s helped along his way throughout the series as he becomes better friends with Robin and Michael.Why You Love Them: Because in a lot of ways he’s like me, lol. He can’t handle not having things in his own control, and when he feels awkward he tries to remove himself from the situation.

Full Name: Stephanie Brianna MarcusGender and Sexuality: Cis female, haven’t decided on sexuality but I can see her quite strongly as asexual and focused more on her friendships than on relationships.Pronouns: She/HerEthnicity/Species: Her father is Black American, her mother is White American.Birthplace and Birthdate: Manhattan New York, NY, 3rd March 1995.Guilty Pleasures: Taking long baths that use up the hot water, and that mean Jared and Robin have to wait to use the bathroom. And she really does feel bad about it afterwards, so she tries to make it up to them.Phobias: She’s a little claustrophobic, but doesn’t really have many actual fears.What They Would Be Famous For: If not for acting, then probably for being the Most Cheerful Woman in America.What They Would Get Arrested For: The same thing that she pushed Jared into doing, because she thought that maybe there could be a way of spinning it into something good.OC You Ship Them With: Again, no one. She has a boyfriend at one part of the series, but they break up. She much prefers being friends with people, and she adores her friends.OC Most Likely To Murder Them: No one, she is Actual Sunshine.Favorite Movie/Book Genre: All kinds of romance novels and soaps. Robin gets her into the old Douglas Sirk melodramas and the Howard Hawks comedies, too.Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: She’s actually kind of a sucker for cliches.Talents and/or Powers: Apart from acting, she loves to bake and to garden. She’s also the only one in the apartment who loves to sing and dance, and will often host one-woman renditions of her favourite musicals around the place when no one else is at home.Why Someone Might Love Them: Why wouldn’t you love her? She’s a delight.Why Someone Might Hate Them: Her cheerfulness gets on some people’s nerves, and she crumbles underneath her very dominant mother.How They Change: She learns to stand up for herself more against her mother, and to live her own life the way she truly wants it.Why You Love Them: Because she is perhaps the nicest person I’ve ever wrote. She’s adorable, and impossible not to love, even if some of the things she says can be a little naive sometimes.