#and also making a joke out of his victims and their families too

[souredvalentine]

actually ykw dni if you watched the dahmer shit on netflix or if you are in any way supporting, romanticising, or sensationalising a fucking killer

[star-ocean-peahen]

After watching Cinderella (the original animated movie, which was my favorite as a child), it strikes me how it solves many common problems people have with this fairy tale. Like:

Why did they try to identify the mystery girl using her shoe size? Because the bullheaded king's only clue to her identity was the shoe the Grand Duke picked up off the steps.

Why didn't the prince recognize her by her face? Because his father wouldn't involve him in the process at all, and wasn't the one going around trying to find her.

Why did the prince want to marry a lady he only met that night? Because his father was going to force him to marry someone, and he genuinely liked this woman.

Why did Cinderella want to marry a man she only met that night? Because marriage was her best and most secure way to freedom. Fucked up, but you can't say it's unrealistic for the setting of a fairy tale. She also genuinely liked him.

If they're using the slipper to find her, wouldn't it be more sensible to search for the person with the other slipper? Yes. The King is purposefully nonsensical and the Duke is purposefully terrified enough of him to carry out his orders to the letter. Furthermore, they end up doing that in the end anyway, because the Duke's glass slipper is shattered, and Cinderella brings out the one she has to prove her identity.

Why didn't the stepmother and stepsisters recognize Cinderella at the ball? Because they were dancing too far away, and then left the party to dance in private, which was possible because the King wanted very badly for his son to hit it off with someone and tried to arrange the best conditions for that to happen.

Why didn't Cinderella save herself? Because in real life, abuse victims should not have to shoulder that responsibility, and usually can't. In real life, you need and deserve an external support system. Asking for help, in this kind of situation, is very important. She is saved by others because she is loved. Because she is not alone. Because she has friends who love her, and want her to be happy and safe and free. Because in real life, people who want to help someone who is suffering are like the mice. We can't pull out miracle solutions, but we can provide companionship and if we're in the right place at the right time, we can help the person find a better life.

Why didn't the fairy godmother save Cinderella from her abusive household, or try to help her sooner? Because she's magic, and magic can't solve your problems. Quote: "Like all dreams, well, I'm afraid it can't last forever." This (and Cinderella's dream of going to the ball) is a metaphor for pleasurable things in bad circumstances. An ice cream won't get rid of your depression, but it will provide you with momentary happiness to bolster you, as well as the reminder that happiness in general is still possible for you. Cinderella doesn't want to go to the ball so she can get away from her stepmother and stepsisters, or so she can meet someone to marry and leave with. She wants to go to the ball to remind herself that she can still have things she wants. That her desires matter. This is important because the movie does a very good job of illustrating Lady Tremaine's subtle abuse tactics, all of which invisibly press the message that Cinderella doesn't matter. While going to the ball and fulfilling her dreams may not be a victory in the material sense, it is still a victory against Lady Tremaine's efforts.

Why is Cinderella's choice to be kind and obedient framed as a good thing, when you are not obligated to be kind to your abuser? This one walks a very fine line, but I think the movie still makes it make sense. Lady Tremaine never acknowledges her cruelty. She always frames her punishments of Cinderella as Cinderella's fault. Cinderella is interrupting, Cinderella is shirking her duties, Cinderella is playing vicious practical jokes. Cinderella is still a member of the family, of course she can go to the ball, provided she meet these impossible conditions. Lady Tremaine's tactics are designed to make Cinderella feel like she must always be in the wrong and her stepmother must always be in the right. If Cinderella calls her stepmother out on her cruelty, or attempts to fight back, Lady Tremaine can frame that as Cinderella being ungrateful, cruel, broken, evil, etc. If Cinderella responds to her stepmother's cruelty defiantly (in the way she's justified to), she's not taking control out of Lady Tremaine's hands. Disobedience can be spun back into her stepmother's control. She wants Cinderella to be angry and sad and show how much she's hurting. So since Cinderella is adapting to her situation, she chooses to be kind. Not only because she naturally wants to be and it's part of her personality, but because it is a form of defiance in its own way, and it allows her to keep a reminder of her agency and value. Her choice to be kind is her chance to keep her own narrative alive: she is not obeying because her stepmother wants her to and she has to do what her stepmother does, but because she wants to. It's a small distinction, but one that makes all the difference in terms of keeping her hope and identity. (Fuck, I wrote a whole paragraph about how this doesn't mean you can't be angry at people who hurt you or that you need to be kind to deserve help, and then deleted it by accident. Uh. Try again.) Expressing anger and pain is an important part of regaining autonomy and healing. Although it is commendable to be kind while you are suffering, it is NOT required for you to get help or be worthy of help. If Cinderella's recovery was explored beyond "happily ever after" she would need to let herself be angry and sad to heal. Cinderella is not only kind because it comes naturally to her, but because it's her defense against the abuse she's suffering. Everyone's story and experiences are different, and one does not invalidate the other.

Bonus round for answers that aren't part of the movie:

Why didn't Cinderella run away? Where would she go? Genuinely, in hundreds-of-years-ago France, where would she go if she snuck out of the window with a change of clothes? With her step-family, she's miserable and abused, but she's fed, clothed, and in no danger of dying or being taken advantage of by anyone other than her stepmother and stepsisters. Even if she escapes and manages to find financial security, her stepmother might be able to find her and get her back.

Why didn't Cinderella burn the house down with them inside it/slit their throats in the night/poison their food/etc.? Because that's a revenge fantasy, and this story is a fantasy about being saved. There's nothing wrong with making Cinderella into a revenge fantasy. That's perfectly fine, as long as you acknowledge that the other type of fantasy is also a valid interpretation. (I mean, the original fairy tale features the stepsisters getting their feet mutilated and all three of them getting their eyes pecked out, so go for it.)

Why isn't Cinderella more proactive in general? Because she's a child who has been abused for the back half of her life, who has had to be focused on survival because. you know. she's an abused kid.

How did she dance in glass slippers? Gotta agree with you there man, that's weird.

[the-daily-dreamer]

So a lot of people have talked about the weird sexual punishment and embarrassment utilized against team green and I wanted to weigh in because I think it’s the perfect example of the hypocrisy of this show’s messaging.

Because on the surface, HOTD takes a very sex positive stance. They champion Rhaenyra for being very open with her sexuality and for being sexually liberated in a very conservative society. They act as if she is an impressive beacon of feminism for this. And that would be great…if it weren’t for the fact that this sex positive outlook lives and dies with Rhaenyra’s and team black’s sexual experiences only.

Outside of Rhaenyra’s perspective, sex scenes are often degrading, predatory, abusive, and meant to embarrass the character to others in universe and/or the audience.

Criston is seen saying no and trying to leave when being coerced into sex with Rhaenyra which she promptly ignores by kissing him and blocking the door. Then that sex he consistently has with Rhaenyra is used as a joke for how pathetic he is for not accepting her offer to be nothing more than a personal “whore”. And his consensual sex with Alicent is seen as hypocrisy but also interrupted by Helaena after blood and cheese so that he can be blamed for this atrocity because of his “immorality”.

Aemond is seen cuddling in the lap like a young child of the woman who raped him when he was young, then being served milk, and then walking out of the brothel naked. With the whole scene being painted uncomfortable and rather degenerate.

Aegon has a scene of him being a rapist to ensure he is known as a bad and evil man. And then he has a scene where he explicitly states how his genitalia have been damaged. As if his disability from his attack is embarrassing and disgusting.

Larys one of the few disabled characters in the show, has a fetish that surrounds his disability that he uses to degrade Alicent. Thereby making him seem disgusting and pathetic.

And of course. Alicent. Her first sexual encounter we see her have is her looking dead inside while being raped by her pedophilic husband, a scene that seems to have the connotation of deserved assault because “she asked for this” by “seducing” Viserys. She is fetishized for information and thus makes her seem degraded and gross. Her sex with Criston is interrupted by Helaena after blood and cheese so that she, too, is blamed for the atrocity of the murder of her grandchild because she was “immoral” for…having consensual sex with someone after her rapist husband finally dies.

Every scene that any team green character experiences is painted in a way that portrays them as disgusting, perverted, and immoral; or is painted in a way that is meant to humiliate these characters to others in and out of universe.

How is this sexually positive? How is this an appropriate way to portray your “villains”, by painting them negatively and embarrassing them through their sexual encounters?

-

The worst part is that they’ve used these sexually degrading scenes specifically to “humble” a rape victim and child bride. Humbling her because they believe that she is power hungry and desperate for the throne and so she uses and betrays Viserys and Rhaenyra. And aside from that being a major mischaracterization (Alicent didn’t want the throne as a teenage girl forced to marry the king, and she doesn’t betray Viserys and Rhaenyra out of personal ambition but protection for her family), you know who that description fits? DAEMON TARGARYEN.

Daemon wanted the throne more than anything. Groomed his teenage niece to have a chance to marry her to get closer to the title of king. Betrayed, humiliated, and hurt his brother and niece wife to make himself a better candidate as heir. Choked his niece wife when she didn’t listen to him. And consistently asserted himself as king, a position to be viewed as higher than his wife the queen.

And similar to Alicent, he was “humbled” this season. But how was he humbled? By having private visions that are unknown to (almost) everyone. And these visions are mostly just him being shown the people he hurt in the process of seeking his power. Except for the one with his mother, which is sexually inclined, but not presented in the same depraved and humiliating way that the scenes with Alicent or any of team green are.

-

This whole show just has such a gross way of depicting the people they see as villains. And it shows how hypocritical their messaging is. HOTD is not a feminist, sex positive show. It’s far too obsessed with sexual violence and humiliation against people they dislike to be one. This show believes that sexual positivity and liberty is good. But only for those who deserve it. That it’s not a right but rather a privilege. And anyone they deem as immoral, evil, bad, or “unfeminist” doesn’t deserve it. They deserve to be ridiculed, humiliated, and humbled by their failures as people. And I can’t stand it.

This show isn’t sex positive and feminist. It’s Rhaenyra positive. That’s it.

[baby-tini]

Bully Dabi🥵 he messes with you your whole life ever since you moved in the neighborhood. He makes sure you don't have any meaningful connections with friends from school so no one bothers you. It wasn't till University that it got kicked up a notch. He wasn't shoving into you or saying mean things anymore it was more sexual now. He grabs you around the corner of a classroom and makes you grind on him. While doing that he says the nastiest things in your ear. 'You always wanted this' 'wanted to ruin you for so long' 'wait till you see my cock you'll drool over it like the little cock slut you are' 'my cock slut' 'can't wait to see this tummy buldge from my cock'

TW- NONCON, victim blaming, sexual assault, bullying, verbal and physical abuse You had moved into the neighborhood when you were about eight years old, your dad had gotten a new job that payed way better then his old one. Being an only child, you never really had people to play with so, when your dad told you that there was a family across the street with kids your age, you were ecstatic. The kids were really nice to you, well, except the oldest, Touya or as all his friends called him, Dabi. He was always so mean to you. Tripping you, pulling your hair, spilling juice on your pretty clothes, you never liked Touya, he never gave you a reason too. So, you did your best to avoid him, you only came over to play with Fuyumi anyway, so, you would just be in her room playing dolls and having fun, until you had to go home. Now the bullying wasn't too bad as kids, it was more like an inconvenience for you. But in high school? That's when it started to get worse, the tripping turned into Dabi- as he now forced you to call him- pushing you into lockers and laughing when he sees the bruises on your shoulders and thighs. The hair pulling turned into him yanking you up by your hair as he called you mean names. You wanted to tell someone, you truly did but all the girls loved Dabi, that was apparent when he had a new one hanging off him everyday. Plus you didn't want your parents to move you to a different school, you had a lot of friends here. You especially didn't want to tell Fuyumi, knowing she'd tell everyone, it would be in good faith coming from her but, she really couldn't keep a secret to save her life.

Dabi being older then you by a couple years means he graduated and went to college first, giving you two years of peace, you didn't have to look over your shoulder or wear jackets all the time in order to cover the bruises he inflicted. You could have fun and joke around with friends without him staring you down from across the hall. It was the best two years of school you've had in your life, plus, Dabi moved into a dorm on campus with his friends Keigo and Tomura. So, you rarely saw Dabi around the neighborhood, except when he came home occasionally on weekends. But even then, you'd rather five- rarely seven- days of peace then none at all. It also meant you could talk to guys without Dabi threatening them or in most cases, beating them black and blue. It's the worst in college though, the years of peace in high school gone all too quickly as you start uni. Although, you don't have any classes with Dabi, so you rarely see him. After classes is a different story though, he's trailing after you, holding you hostage in empty classroom and calling you mean names as his bullying gets bolder.. more.. sexual. He's pinning you against the wall now, leaving hickeys and bruises on your neck, shoving his tongue in your mouth and probably the worst is when he pushes you on top of the desk to spread your legs and hump your cunt over your clothes. Then there was the time that Dabi had dragged you you into an empty classroom, calling you a slut because your skirt was too short for his liking as he laid you on the empty teacher desk and proceeded to pull your skirt up and take his cock out. He had you lay there as he rubbed the head of his dick over your clit, through your panties, making you beg for him to play with your pussy. "Feels good, doesn't it slut?" Forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist, he grinds into your cunt. Slapping your hands away when you try to hide your face and laughing when you start to cry. Pumping his cock a couple times, he runs it over your panties, making sure his tip catches your clit. Trying to look away from him doesn't work 'cause he'll just pull your upper body off the desk and make you watch him fuck your clit, his slit leaking beads of pre-cum, wetting the sensitive nub, his piercing catching on it so nicely. He'll switch from that, to pulling your underwear to the side so that he can slap at the little bundle of nerves and rolling it with his pointer and thumb.

"I don't know why you're covering your face, you were asking for it, wearing all the slutty clothes that you do." Dabi says the meanest things when he has you like this, he's never been soft while he touches you. Always bending you over the railing in the stairwell so that he can lift your skirt to rub your pussy with two fingers then he'll pull your thong tightly against your pussy, so that your lips peak out and he can grind against you. Or when you're leaving the building he'll pull you with him behind the school so that he can give 'daily hole checks,' as he calls them. He says he does them to make sure you're not whoring yourself out, seeing how tight you are by making you suck on his fingers so he can push them inside you. "Bend over bitch, I won't ask again, gotta make sure this pussy is just how I left it." If you're too slow doing as he asks, he'll push against the wall and pulling your ass towards him. From there, he'll pull your panties down, letting them drop to your ankles as he spreads your pussy open and literally stares at your pussy for minutes, pulling lips apart and pushing tip of his thumb inside, spitting on your clit and using his palm to spread it all over your cunt, getting spit on your thighs as he does so. If he deems that your pussy isn't how he left, whether his cum is no longer in you or you feel "looser" then he'll punish you. He makes you hold up your skirt from behind with your face squished against the dirty brick wall as he slaps your ass, hitting you so hard your eyes burn from the salty tears running down your cheeks. Telling you mean things as he carries out his brutal assault on your ass. "Don't start crying now bitch, if you weren't such a slut, I wouldn't have to hit you." or, "Did you really wipe my cum out of you? You ungrateful little whore." and, "Move away from me again and see what happens, I'll hit a lot fucking harder, try me." and of course, "You really think anyone'll believe you? Those bitches you hang out with would kill to be in your position, would beg to have my cock stretching them so full it bulges from their fucking stomach.

[verosikastrikerstellaexcuser]

Okay. So the new ep. I was so mad about this line from Stolas I can't lie: "I didn't realize you think so low of me"

Oh really? What reasons have you given him to think highly of you Stolas? You:

A) Gave Blitz a choice between his career or having sex with you (Blitz's career also supports his daughter and the other IMP employees, their well being was on the line too). And to boot, this proposition took place while Blitz was in a high pressure scenario being hunted down by a crazy serial murderer human trying to kill him. Which Stolas was aware of and watching. He chose that moment to make his proposition and laud the grimoire over Blitz's head.

B) Constantly make weird fetishy remarks about Blitz's species/race, calling him an impish little plaything and "itty bitty". Also while being weird towards other imps too, using your butler as a stress toy and calling Moxxie, Millie and other random imps "little ones" all the time.

C) After the power imbalance of controlling his business was set up by you, you proceeded to constantly toy with Blitz despite how much he resisted and showed he clearly doesn't like it. You give him an annoying demeaning pet name he didn't ask for with the "Blitzie" shit. You make crude sexual remarks that make him uncomfortable and make them in front of others too, humiliating him in front of both strangers and people he is close to. You grab at his face condescendingly. You idly use him as an ash tray. You treat him with a completely disrespectful degrading demeanor and there is nothing he can do or say about it that will make you stop - in Loo Loo land when Blitz expresses that he does not want you to attempt to solicit sex that day from him you respond "You are so cute when you are serious" like its funny hes mad about that. All of this unwanted sexual attention is to the point Blitz has a panic button for when YOU specifically show up at his office like what else is there to say really.

D) You also treat your daughter like shit. You chase Blitz instead of focusing on her even though shes clearly very mentally ill and struggling. You make weird sexual remarks about Blitz, the guy who you're cheating on your wife with which is causing chaotic familial breakdown in the home Octavia has to live in (and Octavia KNOWS its Blitz specifically that you're cheating with she is very aware). She is clearly constantly uncomfortable and yet you put her through that several times Stolas.

Then you try to do the right thing and free Blitz. Good, great, a step in the right direction. But when hes so unused to you respecting him and thinks you must be lying you have a whiny little breakdown and storm off about it.

BUT NO WONDER BLITZ THOUGHT IT WAS SOME KIND OF FUCKING JOKE AND THEN WAS LIKE WTF YOU STUPID FUCK. Look at everything you've done holy shit! I felt Blitz's "What the fuck" in my soul. What is with this shows attempts since S2 at a weird perversion of the truth. What is with this pathetic poor me I'm just a poor widdle victim! Act from Stolas. Its just so gross its disgusting.

Stolas was born with his wealth. He was born with immense wealth, connections, authority, and physical power. He never has had to comprehend making the kinds of choices Blitz has had to in order to make rent. And Stolas actively exploited Blitz's class. He actively exploited it along with Blitz's obligations to his employees and daughter, those he loves, to get sex out of him. And then when Blitz sees him for what he is he is a self victimizing baby over it. How slimy can you get?

[sweetiecutie]

🖤Fuck or die🖤

Paring: slasher! König x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, dead dove do not eat, non-con so rape, cuckolding, unwilling cheating, oral, facefuck, dick piercing bc I know y’all like it, unprotected sex, blood, murder, gore in the end. This is only fiction, don’t take any of this too seriously! If you feel triggered by any of these tags - just scroll past!

Word count: 4k, holy fucking shit

A/n: not me writing this in one day, jesus fucking christ😮‍💨 It’s first time I wrote something so violent, but I think I did pretty good! Originally planned to post it on halloween night but I’m too eager to share!! Also, I tried my best to fix all mistakes by proofreading it 4 times, I really did, but I’m pretty sure that I left out some still

It’s been very uneasy in a small town where you lived - series of blatant murders shook up all inhabitants with their brutality. Cruelly butchered corpses gave a hint of culprit’s strength, so cops guessed it was a man. And the most terrifying thing about this whole situation was that this maniac was still on loose - he never left any evidences, not a damn thing - nothing that could give a clue of who he was. The only trace he’s ever left wasn’t an accident or his mistake, but a well-planned thing - after appearing nameless in numerous news reports and articles he finally decided to introduce himself, writing KÖNIG with his victim’s blood on white flooring, said victim’s two bloody teeth serving as umlaut.

And his motives behind picking out victims were just as unclear - there was nothing in common between all these people: he didn’t have any preferences in victim’s sex or age, their profession nor appearance - as long as they lived in one family house, to avoid anyone hearing their screams, you figured. It seemed that he simply loved killing, who that was - didn’t matter.

You can’t say how exactly it all happened. It was another evening that you were spending at your boyfriend’s place - Paul’s parents were out of town for a few days for anniversary of their wedding, leaving a huge house for their only son. You felt uneasy - there weren’t any new murders in over a month, people were scared that maniac will go “haunting” very soon, which meant that no one was safe.

Paul only cooed at you soothingly when you shared your worries with him, promising to “protect you from all weirdos out there”, placing a comforting kiss on your forehead. So to distract yourselves you decided to throw a movie night - stacking up with snacks and beer, Netflix window opened on a large tv-screen, ready to serve its purpose as you made last preparations.

Cuddled up on the comfy couch, your boyfriend’s comforting warmth slowly seeped into your tense muscles, you watched some corny comedy, groaning in tandem at poorly-made jokes. When suddenly a sound of shattered glass jolted you both up, staring tensely at each other.

- I’ll go check it, - Paul said, getting up and heading to the living room from where the noise came. Everything was quiet for a few long minutes, your fingers fiddled with loose string on the corner of fluffy blanket as you heard some crashing and your boyfriend’s angry shouting:

- Y/n, get out of here!

Then everything was as if in a blur; tall figure clad in all black stepped into the living room, white scream mask contrasting starkly, huge knife covered in thin layer of blood was shining in blue tv-light. Your heart dropped to your stomach as you stared at the man in front of you - sticky feeling of fear seemed to fill every muscle in your body with heavy lead, making it impossibly hard to move even an inch. And then something in your head snapped, you threw yourself off the couch and towards the door opposite from killer, but he was way quicker - huge hands gripped you by your shoulders, rising you off your feet easily and dragging you back towards living room, your struggling and screaming did nothing to help.

You were now kneeling in front of this psycho, hands tied up tightly with coarse rope that dug painfully into your soft skin, surely leaving deep indents and dark bruises. Your boyfriend was laying on his side a few meters afar - bound by his wrists and ankles with same rope, crimson blood oozed out of deep stabbing wound in his stomach, nose obviously broken and bleeding - all these a result of his grapple with intruder, which obviously didn’t end in Paul’s favour.

- Please, - you weeped, tears and snot covered all of your face, whole body trembled with fear and adrenaline. - Please, I’ll do anything you want, just don’t kill me, - you managed to choke out, silent cries tore through your chest, their intensity made it hard for you to breathe - you were hysterical.

- Oh, I know you will, sweetheart, - mechanical voice said in mock sympathy. One huge glowed hand came up to cup your chin, causing you to jolt violently upon feeling the contact; murderer tilted your head upwards, your insides churning upon laying your eyes on white plastic of his mask.

His thumb rubbed soft circles on your wet cheek - it was almost ridiculous how gently he touched you. This made you sob even more, but you didn’t dare to turn away, too scared to anger him.

- That would be a shame to kill such a pretty little thing, after all, - maniac said, glove-clad pad of his thumb swiped over your trembling bottom lip, soft cotton absorbing the mixture of your tears and saliva glazing it. - I may have an idea. Wanna hear it?

Silence set in for a few long gut-wrenching seconds which was interrupted only by your quiet sobbing and sounds of your boyfriend struggling against tight ropes. Quiet squeal tore through your chest as huge hand squeezed your cheeks harshly, yanking your face upward, forcing you to look up at König. Your bleary from tears eyes fixed upon two black holes in his mask, where man’s eyes supposedly were.

- I said “wanna hear it”? - slasher gritted out, his tone harsh as he put heavy emphasis on every syllable he uttered, making you shrink even further into yourself. You nodded your head hastily, not wanting to try out your luck any more.

- Y-yes, - you stammered, your voice giving out making your response sound more like a kitten’s squealing rather than human speech. König stared at you for a few long silent seconds, your knees beginning to tremble from both fear and painful exposure to hard flooring, which soon irradiated onto the whole of your body.

- I’ve been watching you guys, you know? For a few weeks now, - he said nonchalantly, his grip on your face loosened, long fingers tracing intricate shapes on your cheeks and temples, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ears, getting it out of your eyes. A wave of hysterical cries threatened to tear through your throat upon hearing his words, but you tried to suppress them as much as you physically could, staying still before him.

- Yes, - his voice sounded delicate - as if one of those passionate lovers who proclaimed their tender feelings. - Seen you guys do stuff… kiss, cuddle, fuck. A pathetic view, to be honest, - as he said so, his fingers came to tangle in your messy hair, massaging your scalp with soft movements. You felt sick. This man with a dagger bigger than your forearm clasped tightly in one hand, was caressing you so tenderly with another one - his unpredictable behaviour was making your guts churn.

He turned toward your boyfriend who was still thrashing harshly, struggling with all his might against secure confines of tight rope. Your gaze shifted towards your lover as well - the sight made your heart ache - his blood - some already caked and some fresh and shiny - covered the whole bottom of Paul’s face, a makeshift gag out of piece of some fabric was tied skilfully around his head - by the looks of it not to be untied by itself. His eyes met murderer’s, you could make out his muffled promises of killing the bastard, threats to not touch you and to get the fuck out of here. Murderer didn’t look impressed at all, staring silently at your man lying at his feet.

- Look at this pathetic scumbag - I tied your hands loosely, hoped for a bit of a fight, - harsh noise came from the speaker behind the mask, which you figured to be a sigh. König then turned back towards you, his head tilting to the side slightly, you could practically feel his intense gaze prickling on your skin. - Why are you even wasting your time on this piece of shit? He can’t even fuck you right, and you expected this piece of shit to actually protect you from danger? Provide for you?

Hot tears rushed down your cheeks at his words, as you stayed silent, not knowing what to say. König sighed again, rolling his shoulders to rid himself of the tension in sore muscles, his neck popping loudly, making you jolt at the sound.

- Now, my plan is - how about I show you what a real man is like? Set the bar high for you, hm? - he said, a cool glimmer of blood-stained blade caught your eye as König twirled his knife skilfully in between thick fingers barely twenty centimetres away from your face. He noticed your attention shifting from him to his little tool, softly nudging your chin up to look back at him. - Oh, don’t worry darling. If you’re being a good girl that thing won’t touch you, deal?

You nodded your head frantically, swallowing a thick lump in your throat. - Anything, - you choked out, voice hoarse and barely audible but it was enough for him to hear.

- I like the eagerness, - murderer chuckled, straightening his back from semi-crouching position to stand to his full height. His hand left your face with a small pinch on your tear-stained cheek, tossing his knife from one hand to another as if he was juggling; finally gripping the handle tight König pointed the tip of sharp blade towards your boyfriend: - I want you to watch. You dare closing your eyes and she’s dead.

Your eyes widened in panic, staring fearfully at Paul, mouthing silent “please” at him. Maniac shifted his attention back to you; he put his knife into its holster which was attached to his thigh with tight leather straps, you noted that he didn’t secure the handle, making it easier to pull the knife out in one move if needed.

You watched as if in slow motion how his hands came to the waistband of his black jeans, undoing the button and tugging zipper down, pulling front pants pieces apart. Your gaze darted up towards his mask-covered face, confusion mixed with terror written on your face - your insides dropped as you finally realised what he actually meant.

- What? Doll, I promised to show you what a real man is like, - one big hand came to rest on the crown of your head, not pushing nor pulling, just staying there securely. - Now I warn you, you dare using your teeth - I’ll pluck every single one of them before gutting you like a fucking pig, you get it?

Your breath stopped upon hearing his words, shoulders started shaking as strong bout of adrenaline rushed through your veins, making your poor heart pound crazily, threatening to break your ribs from the inside. You nodded your head vigorously, all of a sudden extremely aware of the tight rope binding your wrists together, how your fingers prickled from constricted blood flow, how much your shoulders ached from being pulled back for so long.

- Good girl. Now, go on, - König said, lightly pushing your head towards his clothed crotch. You had to crane your head up painfully because of the height difference between you two in order to even reach König’s private parts. You gazed up at him, unsure of what exactly he wanted you to do, but he just stared down at you silently, not offering any instructions nor comments.

You darted your tongue out, licking a noticeable bulge showing through his boxers, soaking black fabric in your spit. You did it again, and again, fear and adrenaline subduing feelings of humiliation and shame, you could hear your boyfriend’s muffled “get your fucking hands off her”, but König didn’t seem to pay slightest attention to the other male. You tilted your head to the side, pressing your opened mouth to the thick shaft that was trapped between man’s v-line and his tight underwear, sucking on it softly. That made slasher heave a deep sigh, hand on your head tangled deeper in your hair, holding you firmly in place, indicating for you to keep going.

- Now pull my boxers down, - psycho ordered a few seconds later; his voice, though contorted by voice changer, now sounded deeper. You looked frightfully up at him, your hands still bound tightly behind your back.

- But… how? - you asked, a spark of hope igniting in your chest as thought of him untying your hands popped up in your head. But it was extinguished just as quickly as it appeared with his next words:

- Well, think about it, - he shrugged his broad shoulders ever so slightly, your mind racing at the speed of light as you tried to figure out the problem.

You opened your mouth, moving as slowly as you could to indicate that you didn’t mean to do anything reckless - baring your teeth and gently hooking the elastic of his boxers, your canines grazing slightly against warm skin of murderer’s lower stomach. Once you secured your hold on elastic you pulled down on it, managing to slide it down slightly. König’s hard cock sprung right out, standing tall and thick against his clothed stomach - tip was concealed by brownish foreskin, and your eyes widened at the sheer size of him. Your attention was caught by two symmetrical rows of shiny silver balls running along mighty shaft, glistening coldly is white light of living room’s chandelier.

- Now, doll, that’s what a real good cock looks like, - man said, his free hand came to wrap around thick shaft, pumping it a few times to reveal pink head, a shiny bead of precum sitting in the middle of it. - Open wide, princess. And mind your teeth.

You let your mouth fall open, sticking your tongue out; his cock was standing too high for you to reach it in your kneeling position so König had to guide his length down to your lips, your mouth managing to only take his tip and a little bit more inside.

With your mouth full of other man’s cock your eyes wandered in the direction of your boyfriend; thrashing around seemed to finally exhaust him, crimson blood oozed out of the wound in his stomach. His chest was heaving in tandem with his wheezing breath, angry tears streamed down his temples as he stared with fierce anger at your abuser, the sight made your throat clench, causing you to gag on killer’s hefty length.

- Aw, poor girl is not used to a decent cock, huh? Tell me, did the even reach down to your throat? Lemme guess - he was cumming a few minutes after shoving his pathetic ten centimetres in this precious mouth, wasn’t he? - König chuckled darkly, suddenly pushing down onto your head, forcing you to take half his length down your tight throat, keeping you in place as you choked around his thickness, metal balls were rubbing painfully against the softness of your tongue, irritating sensitive buds of it.

Murderer’s free hand joined the one resting on your nape, gathering your hair in a makeshift ponytail, fixating your head in one position. Tears of pain and humiliation rushed down your reddened cheeks as man fucked his massive cock into your tight throat; his pace was erratic, without certain rhythm, making it hard for you to synchronise your breathing with his irregular thrusts. Your lungs burned with lack of air, dainty kneecaps ached from standing for so long on hard flooring, surely bruising your tender skin.

He let go of you only when you actually started to choke, your whole face reddening with exertion; thick strings of spit mixed with precum connected your swollen lips to glistening pink tip, fat tears rolled down your cheeks, dripping down your chin onto the floor below. A choked cry tore through your chest as massive hands manhandled you around, forcing your head down so that your wet cheek was pressed against cold hardwood facing your boyfriend, your back arched and ass up high in the air. König kneeled down behind you, backs of your thighs were touching coarse denim sitting snugly around his legs, cold metal rivets of his holster contrasting brutally with warmth of your skin. Broad palms kneaded on soft pudge of your ass, delivering a strong smack to the swell of your buttcheek, impact softened slightly by the fabric of your shorts and his glove.

Your boyfriend started thrashing as hard as ever, grunting and screaming as much as he could as König pulled your shorts along with your underwear down to your knees, huge hands resting on the bottom part of your ass, thumbs spreading your pussy open. Silent tears ran down from your eyes, gathering in a small puddle on the floor; you heard maniac tut behind your back, a pad of thumb swiped up and down your slit, making you jolt from sudden contact.

- What a shame, - he heaved a deep sigh, straightening his shoulders and looking up at your boyfriend. - She’s wet, dude.

A few small sobs left you upon his words. Paul tried talking back, but a horrible bubbling sound came out of his throat - gag in his mouth was completely red with absorbed blood, some of it oozed down the corners of his mouth, adding to the bloody mess on his face. You sobbed at the sight, squeezing your eyes shut to avoid looking at horrible picture.

- Turns out our little slut likes it rough, yeah? - König mocked, leaning over your frail form, one meaty forearm rested next to your head, huge chest pressed tightly against your back, overstimulating your thus on age senses. Terrifying mask was barely a few centimetres afar from your face as man whispered right next to your ear: - Did he ever fuck you rough?

His heavy gaze was fixed expectantly upon you, huge hand that still rested on your ass squeezed your flesh painfully, causing you to cringe. - No, - you mouthed, but that was more than enough for him. Slasher hummed in acknowledgment, straightening back into his kneeling position.

- Don’t worry love, I’ll give this pretty pussy what she needs, - psycho said, fisting his leaking cock a few times before aligning swollen tip against your tight entrance. With slow but persistent push of his hips König forced one third of his length inside your poor cunt, fresh dose of hot tears rushed from your eyes, pain of penetration adding to the ache all over your body.

With a sharp snap of his massive hips man forced as much of his cock as it’d go into you. Loud yelp tore through your throat, scratching it painfully; stretch of his girthy cock was too much for your pussy to take, ladder of piercings adding to unpleasant feeling. Tender walls fought against his thick length, such sudden stretch caused your muscles to reflexively constrict around him more, drawing a throaty groan to tumbling out of killer’s broad chest.

- There there, dearie. Poor pussy so used to pathetic cocks, can’t even take me whole, - König said in fake compassion, you felt his length throb within you, twitching a few times. Strong hands held you in place tightly, preventing you from moving your hips even for a millimetre.

Murderer generously allowed you a minute or so for your poor cunny to accommodate to his size before beginning to move his hips in shallow but quick thrusts. Soon enough König was full on fucking into you on rapid pace, your whole body jolting forward with intensity of his mighty thrusts, strong arms yanking you back in place every so often.

One of his deadly hands slithered around your ridiculously smaller form, index and middle fingers danced across your spread around his dick folds, causing your stomach to tense at sudden contact. Free hand yanked you up by the rope binding your wrists, urging you to raise your torso; your shoulder blades were pressed tightly against his heaving chest, warmth emitted off him like a fucking radiator.

Clothed fingertips rubbed tight relentless circles on your clit, causing thick pleasure to rush up and down your spine and your back arch uncontrollably. Your teeth clenched to suppress all the small sounds threatening to spill out of your lips; you felt König’s massive form shift behind you, cold plastic of horrendous mask pressed against the side of your face - he was whispering right into your ear, soft voice real and unchanged:

- I’m gonna slit your fucking throat if you’re not using it, - that caused a shiver to rush down your spine, arising goosebumps in its wake. You moaned out, doing as the murderer wanted, letting all the small sighs and moans flow freely from your lips, your voice lower than usual from all the crying and throatfucking.

Your breathing became shallow; your head just wasn’t working anymore - emotional shock along with physical abuse drained you out of all strength - you were a mere rug doll in psycho’s tight grip, and he could do whatever he pleased with you, you were too exhausted to fight back anyway.

Consciousness started to slip out of your grasp, vision blurred out with tears, dark spots appearing in the corners; König’s throbbing dick pounded your poor pussy mercilessly, thick cockhead nudged against all the sweet spots inside of you, his piercings stimulating you even further as if in spite of all your attempts to resist pleasure psycho was forcing onto you. A tight coil curled in the pit of your stomach, threatening to explode with every harsh snap of mighty hips against your reddened ass. Soaked with your slick fabric of König’s gloves felt overbearing against your clit, his fingers never once stopping to rub your sensitive nub.

A few moments later something deep within you snapped, like a rubber band stretched to its limit - suddenly the world around you turned white, ringing noise filled your ears as you had the most painful orgasm of your life being wrung out of you; your body quivered and thrashed in serial killer’s strong grip, unintelligible sounds and words poured out of your lips, barely louder than a whisper. And then everything became quiet. Soft velvet of darkness enveloped your bruised and exhausted body; you were drowning in warm waves of sleep, not finding it in yourself to try and fight them off. You gave in happily, trusting yourself in welcoming hands of darkness and quiet, afar from horrible reality, afar from fear and danger.

It felt as if your head was splitting in two - horrible ache settled somewhere deep inside of your brain, pain irradiated from within to the outsides of both hemispheres, causing you to groan in agony quietly in. Your whole body hurt, eyelids felt swollen and heavy even as they were closed; and then suddenly your eyes snapped open.

You were lying on cold hardwood flooring in your boyfriend’s living room, shorts and underwear still pulled down to your knees, but your hands now free from rope. You pulled your bottoms back up, hot tears pooling in your eyes as you let out a choked sob. You felt wretched, disgusting, dirty.

- Paul? - you called out to your boyfriend, the sound of your own voice startling you - hoarse and scratchy, total opposite from your usual octave.

As you turned around your breath got caught up in your chest, bitter ball of bile got stuck in your throat - you felt like you were about to throw up.

Here lay Paul - pale and lifeless, dull eyes staring blankly into nothingness, gag still fixed tightly around his head, now brown with dried out blood. Some of his insides spilled out of the gaping cut across his stomach, lying on the floor in a small heap right next to him, huge puddle of blood spread out on the floor, getting into all small cracks and gapes in wooden flooring.

And on the wall behind, in strange brownish color that looked all too similar to the caked blood on your boyfriend’s face, in sprawling handwriting were words:

SEE YOU SOON ♡

Slasher! König Masterlist

Another a/n: I’m planning on making it a series - let me know what you guys think<3 Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Give writes some love - we live off feedback<3

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

"concrete" - hotch x fem!bau!reader

your crush on your boss is so nearly at its breaking point; based on the request found here

cw: canonical violence, mutual pining, mild miscommunication, not a happy ending but not an unhappy ending lmao sorry luv ya

word count: 1.4k

------

You’ve been crushing on your boss for exactly ten months and nine days. You’ve known him for close to a year, but when you think about it, that two month difference in time is just about what it takes to warm up to Aaron Hotchner. 

He was a statue when you first met him. Unwavering, stoic, and maybe even a little strict (definitely very strict). He didn’t crack a smile around you until the first case you ever worked with the BAU was wrapped up, and he definitely didn’t make any jokes until much later on. You discovered underneath the stalwart, brick wall you met was the same man, only softer. Like one of those hard-shell candies with a jelly center. He was incredibly kind, patient, observant, and honorable. 

And he would do anything for anyone on his team at the drop of a hat. 

You also got to see the more playful side of him as you got to know him, as your caseload with the BAU only grew. Sure, he was a stickler for paperwork and procedure, but was he though? 

You once saw him take over a report JJ was supposed to finish so she could make it to Henry’s t-ball game. You definitely witnessed him reassuring Penelope that it was okay that she hacked into the Interpol database for info on an UnSub, and when Derek needed help tracking down his cousin in Chicago, Hotch had the whole team pitch in, which was certainly some kind of ethics violation. 

Little did you know that Aaron was crushing on you, too. He didn’t word it that way in his head, of course, but the second he watched you stride into the conference room to consult on a case, he knew he was in trouble. He expedited the transfer paperwork himself, even followed Strauss in the elevator on her way out one night to make her sign it. 

He grew fond of you quickly, of your insights, your compassion with victims’ families, your quick wit. You always bring homemade cookies or cupcakes for the entire team when it’s someone’s birthday, and you always have a different perspective to offer on cases. He especially loves when you are clearly thinking hard about something, so you cross your ankles - sitting or standing, he’s noticed - and tap your toes against the floor. 

Aaron’s ways of showing affection were not lost on you. He brought you coffee on more than one occasion, but he also brought coffee to the rest of the team. He straddles the invisible line between Caring Boss and More Than That so well. You’re not exactly sure what his actions mean.

Like today, for example. The team is in a small town in Kentucky, and you’re deep into a case - a spree, four murders in four days. You have been awake for about twenty straight hours, give or take, and the world around you has turned hazy. 

You are combing through a suspect’s letters with Spencer, your eyes growing heavier by the second. Your chin is propped up by your arm, and you finally close your eyes, just for one second of respite. Your arm gives out and your head whacks against the table, a wake-up call no amount of espresso could ever provide. 

“Shit, Y/N. Are you okay?” Spencer’s out of his chair in an instant as you lift your head, rubbing the already-formed welt on your forehead. 

The spot is tender and red and you’re dizzy, the wheels on your chair not helping matters. Why are there three Reids hovering over you? They meld back into one Reid after you blink a few times, and as you’re nodding to reassure Spencer you’re okay, you hear Hotch walk in. “I heard a thud. What happened?” 

The conference room in the police precinct is teeny and already cramped, so Spencer has to move out of the way for Hotch to get to you. 

“She smacked her head on the table,” Spencer explains hurriedly. “I’ll get you an ice pack,” he scurries off, likely to ask one of the local officers, leaving you alone with Hotch. 

You’re still reeling and a bit disoriented from the contact with the solid oak table. Hotch takes the rolling desk chair beside yours, previously occupied by Spencer, and is hunching to meet your eye line. “You should really go back to the hotel and sleep for a little bit,” he says.

“Nobody else is,” you protest just as Hotch squares up to you to examine the welt on your forehead. You see him visibly grimace, his lips pressing deep into his face.

His thumb is suddenly on your forehead, padding around the bruise. It’s tender, and you know it would hurt if he touched you even a centimeter to the left, but he’s hitting it at just the right spot. You can see the lines on his palm.

“Yeah, well, no one else just concussed themselves,” he points out. You can tell just by looking at him that he’s tired, too. His eyes are heavy, the bags under them puffier than usual. 

“If I’m concussed, then I really shouldn’t go to sleep,” you point out, and Hotch’s expression tightens. 

“What day is it today?” He asks, retracting his hand and pulling back into his own space. 

“Wednesday,” you reply, then your eyes dart to the clock on the wall. 12:17 AM. “Thursday,” you correct. 

Hotch releases a pressure-cooker sigh and narrows his eyes at you scrupulously. You lean forward in your chair in a challenge. “I’m fine,” you insist. 

“I just wish you’d take care of yourself so I wouldn’t have to.” 

This catches you off guard. Your brows furrow and you frown at Hotchner, crossing your arms over your chest. “Excuse me?” you ask, feeling offended. What the hell was that supposed to mean? “You don’t think I take care of myself?”

Hotch’s mouth is hanging open just slightly, and he’s shaking his head. “No, Y/N, that’s not what I-” 

“You and I both know you would tell me if my performance was inadequate,” you decide in that moment - maybe it’s the potential concussion, or maybe it’s the exhaustion - to rip into him. “I don’t need a babysitter, Aaron.” 

Hotchner shakes his head again. “I know you don’t need a babysitter,” he says calmly. Irritatingly calmly. “I just meant that there are many other things I’d rather be doing…” 

Your mouth goes dry. Obnoxiously, with the cadence of a confused basset hound, you say, “huh?” 

Aaron’s cheeks are pink now, and he swallows hard. “I’d better go check on Reid and that ice pack,” he murmurs, but before he can roll away, you grab the arm of his chair.  

“Aaron,” you breathe out, and suddenly he’s looking at you like you’re the only person in the world, like there’s a spotlight shining down on you from the ceiling of a little police precinct in Middle of Nowhere, Kentucky. 

His brown eyes are so soft at this moment. His eyebrows have softened from their usual piercing, investigative furrow. He knees press into yours, and you want so badly to bridge that gap between his face and yours. His mouth is hanging open, only slightly, and you watch with bated breath as his tongue juts out - just barely - to moisten his lips. 

The door flies open at that moment, and Spencer’s shifting three different ice packs among his hands. “I’ve got gel, I’ve got water-based, and they also had one of those beaded eye masks that people put in the freezer for self-care at home,” he laughs at this, stopping at the head of the table when he realizes he very clearly interrupted something. “Should… should I go?” 

You’re rolling back from Hotch, crossing your ankles and shaking your head. “No, you’re fine, Spence,” you say hurriedly and squeakily, just as Hotch clears his throat and rises from his seat. He lingers in the door on his way out. As you’re taking the gel ice pack from Spencer and placing it gingerly against your forehead, your gaze meets Hotch’s. 

He’s boring into you with those beautiful molten chocolate eyes, and he purses his lips pensively for one fleeting moment, as if to say, to be continued. 

“What was all that about?” Spencer asks as he sits back down. You shake your head. 

“Nothing,” you feel concrete tension in your jaw that radiates all the way down to your toes. You grab the next pile of letters and open one. The fact that you have to pretend like nothing just happened, like you didn’t just share an absurd amount of tension with your boss? It feels like your entire body is on pins and needles. “Let’s just keep going.”

[campkillyrself]

Hi. I'm angry. I have been wronged and no right has been made from it. Please read, please reblog, please share, please do fucking anything.

This is a detailing of my experience with Jaye @raccoonsaloonboy, previously @trashbanditc00n.

tw for abuse and sexual assault, grooming, and pedophilia.

In 2022 I started dating Jaye Black, tumblr user @raccoonsaloonboy, previously @trashbanditc00n. 

I was 15 and he was 18. In the six month period of us being together, he groomed me to the point of me accepting sex no matter how much I didn’t want it. He sexually assaulted me countless times purely because I was too scared to say no. Scared that he would leave me, because i was his dog. He made me think he was my only friend and that it was best for me to cut off my family and move to his town. He ruined my sense of self in a way I still have not recovered from, and then hid from the consequences for a year.

I don’t have anything else to say other than more and more graphic descriptions of his abuse, so here is proof of his behavior.

these screenshots are in regards to me making a joke about us making a glaze for brownies out of cum and him not getting it. so i just said nvm and dropped it, then he got upset at me.

^ this specifically is so funny. Man i was the bigger person up until you blocked me

context for the next screenshots: martha is a character we made out of a stock photo model seen in the itch.io game “The Open House”. I started making art of martha and referring to him however i wanted because he was our creation. then he had this to say.

martha saga over.

weird fucking thing to say when your 15 year old abuse victim gets mad at you, and then turn the previous argument into your 15 year old abuse victim talking you down.

These are the only screenshots i can fit due to the image limit, but the more damning ones can be found on this blog.

Here is the post in which i detail our conversation in july 2024, a little over a year since he blocked me out of nowhere. also included in the post are my DMs with his ex to corroborate my claims.

Since then, he has *not* stopped using the account like he said he would, which makes it very obvious that he was bullshitting an excuse to not make a statement.

I am currently trying to get a hold of his father to verify if he *does* know about his kid's actions.

I don't know what I expect from this. I don't think this will be closure. His fake apology and refusal to admit wrongdoing was not closure, so I do not think anything will be. I just ask that you share this and spread the word of how fucking vile this man is. I am going to tag this post with the various fandoms he is in to let it be known.

If you wish to reach out, please do so at @jayeblackcallout, not this blog. I will be handling all matters related to this there.

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

Which One Piece Characters Are Coming to the Cookout?

tags: headcanons, black!reader, gn!reader

notes. i'm not accepting critiques because i'm not wrong in any of my assessments. we all know these people would be there. i was up late for no reason thinking about this and decided to make it tumblr's problem. keeping it light for my first one piece hc post but i'll be making more

usopp

this nigga's one of us, this is a no question. this is his birthright

you don't see us questioning piccolo and the namekians at the black history month dinner, we don't question shit with usopp

bro belongs here

is most popular with all the younger cousins because of all of his stories

your older cousins are asking sniper king what his wash day routine is because his hair is amazing and we all know it

ace, sabo, luffy

ace and luffy were raised by dadan so these niggas are culturally black. sabo may have been raised by her to a lesser extent than his brothers, but he still was in that house so he gets to come too

the only problem luffy's ass would encounter is that he eat too damn much and he'll steal off someone's plate, so keep an eye on your man and he'll be fine

luffy also knows how to party. it's a challenge when one of the uncles go "you don't know nothin' bout this right here, young buck"

it's the same for ace. he grew up hearing dadan play mary j blige and roberta flack when she cleaned sunday morning so he's getting up the moment he hears someone playing word up

sabo and his top hat would get some eyebrow raises when he shows up but when he shows he knows something about some turkey necks and collard greens, they will be revoking their sneaky ass comments

ace and sabo would be particularly popular with your relatives who want you to hurry up and tie the knot. they help with your wash days, are polite and are very handsome. you will be a hearing a "if it don't work between y'all please give me a call" or two

all three of them will probably keep you at the function longer than you expected for various reasons from 'saying goodbye' and staying an additional 40 minutes to 'okay we gotta stay for cameo, they're playing get down on it!'

sanji

this white boy can cook much to the surprise of your extended family, so hell yeah he gets to come

your family gave you the side eye when you told them sanji would be bringing a dish thinking it was going to be potato salad with raisins and a dash of paprika but bro came with a huge ass bowl of banana pudding and the pudding was made from scratch

he's solidified his place in ensuring he is always invited to a function your family throws

your aunts love that he helps during your wash days, something you bragged about endlessly before you brought him to meet everyone

sadly sanji, like the asl brothers, will continuously fall victim to the "alright we leavin' y'all" but then you end up staying an extra hour because he's too busy yapping it up with all your aunties

you practically have to drag him back to the car

law

you already know your cousins are going to be all over this man based on the energy he exudes alone

"oh he a doctor? so he got money" someone's gonna say it at least once

he mostly sits to himself, more content to watch your family have a good time than interact exceedingly with everyone which may make him come off as standoffish but he really is just happy seeing everyone around him be happy

losing his family at a young age, he's happy to be pulled into yours even if his rbf may make others think otherwise

but all the mysterious aura goes out the window when someone jokes he probably can't play ball and suddenly your family is seeing a different side of him that is childish, competitive and amusing

jinbe/any fishman

automatic invitations by virtue of birthright. it's the same shit with the namekians, they're one of us so they get to come. they are with us on juneteenth

if anything, jinbe IS the uncle going "you don't know nothin' 'bout this right here" the moment the spinners, carl carlton or george duke comes on

[lizdive]

I propose reader being a big brother figure who's responsible and reliable for the astral express trio (March 7th, trailblazer, Dan Heng) since Welt is the grandpa/father figure while himeko is the mother figure

i do 💍 /j this is such a cute idea i love the astral express crew found family trope it’s so cute <33 i don’t think i did this too well concept wise i’m sorry,,, but thank you for requesting <3 If you’re not satisfied then just tell me and i’ll redo it !! <33

notes 𐙚 male! reader — "you" + "he/him" + "big brother" used to refer to the reader ,, reader as an older brother figure ,, platonic relationships ,, trailblazer is not specific — can be seen as stelle or caelus ,, not proofread so excuse typos auhm ,,,,,,,

⭑ Whether you joined first or last, your closeness to the express does not differ. You’ll always be the one MARCH runs to when she wants to try out new outfits and needs an opinion, or when DAN HENG needs help with the archives, or when the TRAILBLAZER wants to go dumpster diving.

⭑ If you joined before DAN HENG, you probably had the role of Astral Express Guard and handled the archives. You left the most of the archive work to DAN HENG when he joined so he could freely enjoy the archives, but whether you give up your role as Astral Express Guard or still hold it alongside DAN HENG is up to you.

⭑ HIMEKO and WELT are very thankful for your responsibility and reliability, and HIMEKO will praise you for it with a pat on the head or the back. While DAN HENG is responsible and reliable, too, it’s nice for someone to relieve the stress of the TRAILBLAZER and MARCH from his shoulders while looking after him, too.

⭑ Also, while DAN HENG is a victim of the TRAILBLAZER and MARCH’s shenanigans, you’re always there to put a stop to them before they get too out of hand. Sometimes whenever you four are on a mission and your separated from the group, the moment you all meet back up DAN HENG will snitch on MARCH and the TRAILBLAZER. They’ll convince you to not snitch to HIMEKO and WELT after you scold them.

⭑ You’re the unofficial official chaperone for those three so good luck.

⭑ During crew group photos you’ll always be in the middle between WELT and HIMEKO. Doesn’t matter if you’re on the shorter side or the taller side.

⭑ After the Xianxhou arc, DAN HENG will find solace in your presence. Whether it’s just in silence or you comforting him verbally, he appreciates it. If you stay with him on the express during Penacony, he may feel a tear being shed from how touched he is.

⭑ The TRAILBLAZER will call you 'big brother' and depending on how you view / play them, it can be seen as either teasing or genuine. MARCH does it, too, but it’s joking.

⭑ WELT always feels himself relaxing more when you join him on missions because he knows you’ll be able to handle yourself and enemies as well as keep up with negotiations and pitch in ideas should there be any. He’ll make sure you don’t push yourself, of course, but he will appreciate you fighting diligently.

⭑ With HIMEKO it just feels like you’re babysitting the crew while she deals with the important things. It’s like when a mother is talking with a teacher and the oldest is trying to keep his siblings in check so they don’t do anything stupid.

⭑ The trio would follow big brother! reader like ducklings and if anyone calls them out on it, they’ll deny it. Maybe TRAILBLAZER wouldn’t and would crack a joke, but DAN HENG and MARCH will definitely deny it, DAN HENG being better at doing so than MARCH. big brother! reader just laughs and says he’s fine with it and doesn’t mind.

⭑ Good heart health is most likely non-existent. Poor heart will be at risk of stopping permanently with all the shit those three get into. HIMEKO and WELT will start taking your place in missions because you’ll need 5–12 stress and anxiety-free rest days after every few missions.

⭑ If anything during a mission is going downhill you’re the first person the trio will think to call. Big brother to the rescue!

[castiwls]

unexplained cases

Paring; dean x reader

Requested; @walkinthefairygarden

Synopsis; working as an FBI agent means you were more than used to the unusual but even some things drew the line as to strange for you. Little did you know two brothers were also on the case, and this would lead you down a whole new rabbit hole.

Notes; this is the longest thing I've written for tumblr holy. this idea is lowkey so fun tho!! requests are open!

Masterlist

You were used to strange. You’d spent the last few years of your life dealing with any and all cases which were deemed slightly too abnormal for a normal investigation. You’d seen things most of your colleagues could never imagine, hell even you couldn't have imagined some of the things you’d seen. 

Your time working with the FBI had taught you one thing. People were cruel. Sometimes the worst monsters weren't the ones who lived in the pages of an old Brothers Grimm story, sometimes they were your neighbour or sometimes they were your own family.

It wasn’t abnormal for you to be placed on a case which involved situations where people would go out, have fun, get slightly too drunk and disappear off into the night just to be found the next day in an alleyway by an innocent passerby. More often than not if you found yourself receiving the call that the body that had been found was most likely mutilated in a way that would give most people lifelong trauma.

More often than not after looking around for a little and doing some research into past disappearances you would find a pattern in the victims. They were all young blondes or they were all young men between the ages of 19 and 23. That usually led you to the door of the town's new resident killer who got some sick kick out of killing innocent people and mutilating them to ‘leave their mark’.

But in this case. This was different. It had started out normal enough. Victims in alleyways after nights out. They were all mutilated in some way which led you to the belief that yet again, you had a small-town killer trying to make a name for themselves. 

Yet when the bodies began to be autopsided that was when you began to grow confused and…slightly concerned. Nearly all the victims after death had been drained of more the half of their blood and they all had small hole marks on their necks. 

The corner had laughed joking. “Seem’s we have a town vampire.” And you laughed along while staring confused down at the marks. They were nothing you’d seen before. Maybe you simply had a killer with a creative streak but the killings still left an uneasy feeling in your stomach.

✧.*

“Another one?” You let a sigh fall from your lips as you mindlessly chewed on your nail. “That's the fifth one this week.” You frowned slightly sitting back further into your seat. The police chief continued to fill you in on the latest victim as you stared down at your laptop. None of this made any sense. 

You had a killer. You were sure. But who the hell was draining their victims of more the half of their blood? And where the hell was this blood going? “I’ll be there in an hour.” You nodded to yourself before ending the call and pocketing your phone.

Luckily it didn’t take you long to get down to the bar where the victims all seemed to disappear from. The police chief waved you down as you approached, he passed you a file which detailed the latest victim. “I didn’t know you had a partner agent?” He crossed his arms as spoke.

Your eyes paused on the page as you registered his words. “I don’t,” You said looking up from the file. You started at him confused for a moment. “I’m the only one on this case.” The chief stared back at you his eyes narrowing. “Two other agents came around just before you got here. They said they’d been put on the case after the most recent killing.” He waved a hand at you. “They knew who you were…well claiming to.”

“What were their names?” You racked your mind for a minute trying to think of anyone who could have been placed on this case alongside you but your mind came up empty. Plus if anyone was assigned to help you with this you would have been informed.

“Osburne and Butler.” You looked back down to the file in your hand nodding slowly. You’d never heard of agents with those names before. “Are they still here?” You looked around for a moment before looking back to the chief who nodded before pointing to a black car parked a little down the road. 

Thanking him you began to make your way over to the car. Clearing your throat you came to a stop just before the car. The two men quickly turned, clearly shocked by your appearance. Tilting your head you narrowed your eyes. You’d never seen these men in your life. “Osburne and Butler I take it.” 

They both exchanged a quick look before the taller of the two nodded. “Uh. Yes. Is-is everything okay?” His tone was masked as concern but you could sense his slight nervousness from the way he shifted. “Yes everything is fine,” You crossed your arms over your chest. “I’m just wondering why you two think it's funny to pose as FBI agents and walk right onto a crime scene.” You hardened your gaze, watching in slight amusement as the one who had just spoken swallowed looking at his friend for help.

The other man scoffed rolling his eyes at you. “Listen here sweetheart, I don’t know who you think you are but we're not faking anything.” He gestured between him and his friend. “We got put on this case today, you can call our supervisor if you're so bothered.”

You frowned turning your attention to him. “You can’t have been put on this case.” You reached into your pocket pulling out your ID. “Because it’s my case. And in all my time working with the FBI I have never heard of any agents called Osbourne and Butler,” You placed your ID back in your pocket. “And last time I checked they were both pretty old.” 

You watched as the smaller man’s eyes widened at your words. You knew Black Sabbath? 

They both stared at you for a moment before the taller one smiled grabbing onto his partner's arm. “Excuse us for a minute.” You nodded, a quiet huff falling from your lips.

This was the last thing you needed right now. You watched unimpressed as the two seemed to go back and forth for a minute before the taller one turned back to you. He sent you another smile as he came to stand before you. “We’ll talk to our supervisor and find out what happened.” You nodded, looking back at the other man who was currently leaning back against the car. “Alright,” You nodded. 

You bid the two goodbye before walking back towards the bar where you could see the forensic officers beginning to move the body. You frowned to yourself as you looked back down at the file. 

Something about the two ‘agents’ seemed off to you. There was no way you wouldn’t have been informed. You watched as the body was taken away no doubt to the morgue which would be your next stop, though your mind was still stuck on the two men you’d just met.

You were 90% sure they were not agents, but before you acted on your suspicions you had to be sure. There was a low chance they maybe were who they claimed to be and somehow another division had caught wind of the cases and had decided to butt their head in but still never in your career had you seen that happen.

Pulling your phone from your pocket you quickly checked the time. You had more than enough time left to go check the morgue before doing some digging.

✧.*

Your fist banged against the door again for what felt like the hundredth time. It hadn’t taken you long to figure out that there had never been any agents with the names Osbourne and Butler. It also hadn’t taken you long to find a case from a few years ago that involved another strange span of killings which had ended with the killer supposedly dead. 

Just as you raised your fist again the door suddenly swung open. The man’s eyes widened slightly as he stared at you. He opened his mouth but you quickly cut him off raising a finger. “Dean Winchester. Right?” You smiled sweetly at the man who simply gapped at you for a moment.

He stared at you for a moment before shaking his head. “No. Like we said yesterday, we got put on this case just like you did alright? Now I’d appreciate it if you didn’t show up unannounced.” He sent you a small smirk. “If you really have an issue take it up with your supervisor.” 

You pursed your lips nodding. “Really?” You held up a file watching his face drop slightly. “Because this says, different Dean.” 

You pushed the file you’d been holding into his hands, crossing your arms over your chest. “According to this, you died a few years back. Yet. You look pretty alive to me.” 

Dean looked down at the file before looking back up at you. “This.” He waved the file. “Was a misunderstanding.” He glanced down the hallway seemingly relieved seeing that you were alone. “How did you find us.” He asked crossing his arms over his chest.

You could tell by his body language that he didn’t trust you. The way he glared at you was enough to tell you that he was less than friendly. Though you couldn’t deny the slight pull you felt towards him. 

You’d noticed him back at the bar but had kept a professional facade knowing that you had bigger problems. Though now being closer to him you finally were able to get a good look at the man and it only confirmed your thoughts from before. He was very attractive.

“That doesn’t matter. I’m more concerned about why you and your brother are pretending to work for the FBI.” You tilted your head as you questioned him. Dean rolled his eyes moving to lean against the doorway. “Well. Like you sweetheart, we were also doing our job.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. You narrowed your eyes thinking for a moment. “Your job?” 

He nodded a small smirk growing on his lips. “What job could you possibly have which would require breaking the law.” Just as he opened his mouth to respond the trill of a phone ringing. Reaching into your pocket you pulled out your phone a small sigh leaving your lips as you noticed the caller's ID. “Again.” You mumbled exasperated before sliding your finger across the screen. 

Taking a step back from the doorway you watched as Dean’s gaze softened slightly. He stepped to the side before gesturing for you to come into the room. Furrowing your brows you stood for a moment, listening as the police chief began talking about yet another kill. 

Deciding he seemed relatively harmless you took his offer. When you’d first come you’d been under the opinion that Dean Winchester may have been your killer, and his hostile attitude upon seeing you had only furthered that belief. Yet getting another phone call while he was standing before you made you begin to rethink your original suspicions. 

Taking a seat on one of the beds you sighed. “Two victims,” Dean closed the door before moving to stand a few feet from you. “Alright. I’ll be there in an hour.” You ended the call before groaning. Two victims completely threw your pattern off. 

You looked around the room for a moment as you spoke before a thought hit you. Dean hadn’t been alone yesterday and you’d read on his file that he had a brother. “Where’s your brother?” You looked back over to the man who was watching you from his spot.

“He’s getting food.” Dean shrugged. “So two more victims huh.” He pushed. You nodded. “Yea. Why do you care anyway? What are you some kind of true crime fanatic.” He laughed quietly shaking his head.

“Oh no. It’s a bit more complicated.” He came to sit beside you, passing the file back. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention the whole me not being dead to your boss.” You pursed your lips. “Why would I do that?” 

Dean Winchester being alive was very strange to you, but it wasn’t your issue. “Because we can help each other.” 

Dean gestured between you both. You stared at him confused for a moment. You needed to solve this case, and soon. Too many people were dying and you still had little to no leads on who it could possibly be that was committing these crimes. You thought it over for a moment. You were breaking so many rules even being here. You should have reported this to your supervisor straight away but you’d been curious. 

“Me and my brother, we deal with stuff like this all the time. We can help but I need you to promise not to try and shoot me if I tell you what we actually do for a living, alright?” 

✧.*

Working with the Winchesters was… interesting. 

You really hadn’t thought your life could get any stranger, yet here you were staring down at the bodies of three men. Turns out Sam and Dean Winchester had actually not been FBI agents and instead they spent their time traversing around the country killing ‘monsters.’

You initially laughed in Dean’s face calling him crazy before attempting to leave but he’d been quick to stop you. He’d then sat you down and pretty much showed you every piece of evidence they had to suggest that these killings were far from normal.

“A vampire?” You stared at him astounded as he simply nodded. “Yes. And most likely a werewolf. The killings line up.”

You’d not want to believe him but part of you after looking at the evidence knew he had a point. And so that had sent you down a spiral over the last week where you’d learnt of things that you’d only ever known about in your nightmares.

After that, the three of you quickly began comparing notes on the case. In doing this you’d quickly come to find at least three possible culprits. Each of the men had been seen in the club the night of the killings and they were always seen leaving with someone.

You’d surprisingly found yourself beginning to enjoy the company of the two. You normally worked alone during your cases and had always found that you’d worked better alone but during the last few days, you’d found that you actually enjoyed working with others.

Over the last two days, you’d always found yourself steadily growing closer and closer to the older of the two men. Dean Winchester was someone who you’d originally planned to keep at an arm's distance, but that plan quickly fell away.

You’d found yourself spending most of your time interviewing witnesses with him while Sam had stayed back going over your notes.

“Thank you, we’ll be in touch.” You smiled at the older woman as she said her own goodbyes before closing the door. Dean let out a breath as you walked down the porch steps towards his car. 

“You still think it could be her son?” You stopped beside the car to face him. Dean crossed his arms nodding slowly. “Yeah. Vamps don’t have to be born. The guy could have been bitten she’d be none the wiser.” 

You nodded pulling your lip between your teeth. “Okay. We got our guy.” A wave of relief ran through you as you stood there. For the first time in the case, it seemed like you finally had a strong lead who you were all sure was the killer.

Everything lined up. Now all you had to do was catch the guy. Dean reached into his pocket pulling his keys out. “We should go get Sam before heading to the bar. If he follows his pattern our guy should be there.” 

✧.*

“So. Case closed I guess.” You mumbled looking down at the body. Sam nodded from his spot opposite you. “Yeah.” You reached into your pocket pulling out your phone. You looked between the two.

“I’m gonna need to call this in, you two should probably disappear before the cops get here.” You smiled at the two. Sam nodded before looking over to his brother who was still looking down at the body. “How are you gonna explain this?” He asked pushing a hand into his pocket. 

“Suicide.” You gestured to the body. “Guy went mad, killed people and then couldn’t live with himself.” You shrugged. “It's more common than you’d think.” 

“Thank you. I don’t think I would have been able to do this without your help.” You rubbed a hand behind your neck before turning to Dean. “I’ll make sure your file disappears, just try and not get framed for another murder.” You teased slightly making the two men chuckle.

“I’ll try.” Dean grinned, his gaze settling on you. Over the last few days, you’d noticed the way he looked at you had changed. At first, he’d been hesitant, he’d always looked at you with a sceptical eye as if he was ready for you to flip on them at any moment but over time he’d realised that maybe you actually did want their help.

Maybe you really weren't going to lead him into a trap. And with that realisation, the way he looked at you had softened. He’d let himself become more comfortable in your presence. The way he looked at you now was different again. There was no lie that you felt something towards him. 

You’d resigned yourself to the fact that he was just another one of your passing crushes. You’d finish the case and he’d move on. Yet looking at him now you could swear he looked slightly disappointed.

“I’m gonna go wait in the car. I’ll see you there.” Sam nodded at his brother before sending you another smile and walking away. You both watched him go for a moment before you turned to Dean.

Dean didn’t say anything as he turned back to face you. He swallowed before raising a hand. “I guess I better let you call this in before someone sees us.” He rubbed a hand against the back of his neck before he turned and began walking away.

You stood for a moment before beginning to follow him “Dean. Wait.” At your voice, he paused turning to face you. You stopped a few feet from him before taking a breath. You slowly stepped closer until your chests were practically touching. 

You heard his breath hitch as he stared down at you, his lips parting slightly. Pushing yourself up you connected your lips with his. His hand wrapped around your waist as your own went to his head. 

His thumb rubbed circles against your waist as he slowly pulled back. A slight blush covered your cheeks as you panted softly. “Hey. Why don’t you come with us?” Dean whispered moving a hand to brush against your cheek.

“What?” You gasped, furrowing your brows as you looked at him. His eyes had lit up slightly at the idea and he smiled resting his forehead against yours. “Think about it alright. We’ll stick around for two more days and if you decide you wanna come with…you know where we’ll be.” He pressed his lips against yours again for a moment before pulling back. 

You frowned slightly watching him disappear around the corner before your attention turned back to the body. Pulling out your phone you found the chief's number before pressing call. As it rang you found yourself nervously chewing on your nail.

You felt stuck between a rock and a hard place. Stay here and continue working for the FBI and leave behind a man who you were very much falling in love with or take his offer and discover a whole new world.

[nathaslosthershit]

Team USA (AA23)

(Part of the Blind Items Series [can be read on its own])

Summary: Blind items is back with a new victim, Alex Albon and his American Mclaren race engineer of a girlfriend. With the news comes a very interesting Team Torque episode.

Logan laughed when he saw the tweet. He had been making fun of Alex for his newfound patriotism. Since Alex had started having feelings for this girl, he had been asking Logan for help trying to ‘woo’ her, as if Logan hasn’t actually lived in the US since he was twelve. But his teammate helped him, happy that Alex was not teasing him about America anymore. 

Team Torque:

“Hello everyone, this is Team Torque with Alex and Logan. We are here with our very own special guest! She is a race engineer for McLaren”

“And you girlfriend.” Logan quickly adds.

“And my girlfriend. Thanks for the help Logan.” Alex says, sarcastically. “As usual, this podcast is a mess and will probably not be getting better so apologies for that.”

“We aren’t the best hosts.” Logan adds.

“No we are not. Moving on, would you like to introduce yourself?” Alex asks.

“Yes! Thank you boys. As they said, I am a race engineer for Mclaren.”

“And my girlfriend.” Alex interrupts, copying Logan's previous remark.

“And Alex’s girlfriend.”

“And a fellow American.” Logan adds. 

“Would you boys like to introduce me instead? You seem to be so enthusiastic about it.” She jokes.

Alex had been begging for a while to have her on Team Torque. The team had said if they wanted a race engineer they should have one of their own but both him and Logan were insistent that she join them. After the rumors came out, Williams decided it was best if they brought her to gain control of the narrative again. It helped that she was already well loved by the Williams crew. While she would never help them, as that would be traitorous to her beloved team, she had made friends with a few of the other engineers and had jokingly been offered a job by James Vowles a few times. 

“Sorry honey, we are just excited.” Alex said.

“Yeah! Team America back together.” Logan enthusiastically added. The two had become close since they met, giving Alex a taste of his own medicine by making fun of his ‘Britishness’. He wasn’t too happy at their joint effort to make fun of him but he supposed that it was a good thing they got along so well. 

“Anyway, go on, say a bit about yourself.”

“Okay, as mentioned I am from the US. I was born and raised in New York.”

“Yuck” Logan teased.

“Don’t even start Florida man. I worked for Arrow McLaren’s IndyCar team in the same position, shoutout to my IndyCar family, I love you all lots. Then eventually Zak Brown asked me to come to F1 and I happily joined. Through working for them I met Lando who introduced me to Alex and a few years later we now both live in Monaco together.”

“How was the switch to F1 from IndyCar?” Logan asked.

“Rough at first. IndyCar has a much different sort of atmosphere than Formula 1 as well as fanbase. Plus moving out of the US for the first time was difficult. But it has also been such an amazing opportunity that I can’t complain too much. I am so happy where I am now.” Alex hadn’t known her when she had first gotten to Formula 1 but he had heard stories about how difficult it was. She had shared a lot with him but he also knew it was hard as he hadn't had to do the same. His experiences being a Thai and British driver had helped him understand some, but women were still such a rarity in F1, even if they preached gender equality in the sport, they didn't actually do as much as they could to make it a safe space for women to work. He also realized why she and Logan got along so well. Even if they hadn’t grown up close to each other, their shared identity of being an American in a primarily European sport had brought them together. 

The interviewing portion stopped after there, as Alex and Logan were terrible interviewers, but the conversations were still entertaining and it had become viral once it was uploaded. Viewers were excited to see Alex and his girlfriend, as well as Team USA.

mclaren

mclaren  williamsracing we will keep her if you don’t mind 

alex_albon Idk you might want to keep an eye on her

williamsracing may the best team win ;)

logansargeant Team USA can't be stopped

[isa-ghost]

Can we please keep in mind that given what we know, there's a strong chance plenty of Wilbur's friends were blindsided by this, and could very well be grieving that someone so close to them turned out to be this horrific?

Given we KNOW Wilbur meticulously kept up a facade socially and publicly, there's a strong chance they had little to no idea he was that way unless they personally witnessed the behaviors. That's horrifying.

I personally know what it's like to have someone you talked to and hung out with near-daily for YEARS to turn out to be a disgusting, lying, fake and awful person. You feel betrayed, sick, angry, confused, devastated. You need time to emotionally process that. ESPECIALLY before doing something like making a public statement about "your stance" on the matter. Some of the people we know felt like family to Wilbur, genuinely, even despite all the jokes that got old so fast within the community. And they could've gone the whole time not knowing all this.

That's not something you get over instantly. That's not something you can think clearly through right away. Anyone demanding a nuanced and well-thought out statement rejecting and condemning Wilbur ASAP for their own satisfaction are stupid as hell. You don't care about the situation, you're fishing for internet points by being ready to pull the trigger on anyone who doesn't say something the moment you expect them to. You care more about Looking like you have humanity by attacking abusers and abuse apologists, instead of Actually having humanity in realizing this has a real impact on real people with real emotions.

They're fucking grieving. And we've seen from plenty of them who thought of him as a friend that Have said something already that they are also ANGRY.

Those who have yet to speak up are likely still processing their emotions. Or processing what they want to say. Or perhaps are even personally affected by the situation as victims of abuse themselves, and therefore NEED to step back before they say anything, if they say anything at all.

They could also be saying something where we can't see. They don't owe the public shit, anything they'd say wouldn't be for us. We aren't entitled to their thoughts or their explicit rejection of Wilbur. Which is Also why anyone demanding instant statements from anyone is a fucking moron. They don't need to "prove" to us that they don't support Wilbur anymore. That's not what anything to do with this situation is about. That's not what matters here.

What matters is they've personally given Shelby their support; which is 10x more meaningful given directly to her rather than in public where it's also largely to please anyone scrutinizing them. What matters is they've stopped engaging with Wilbur, removed his presence from their personal content (ex: Phil removed his point redemption audios that had Wilbur in them), etc. Actions speak louder than words.

Some of you are just fucking lazy and don't want to look deeper, you want convenient and perfectly crafted statements for your satisfaction and comfort right away.

TLDR: think fucking harder before you open your mouth about any cc's reaction to Wilbur or his statement. These people were friends with him (many are also friends with Shelby!), trusted him, etc. There's nuance to situations like these whether you like it or not, and ccs saying anything where you can see it at the exact moment you want them to is not something any of us are owed.

Fuck Wilbur. Fuck his garbage statement. But if you're more focused on hounding every cc who ever knew him publicly to cater to you for one reason or another the second you want them to, fuck you too.

[baby-tini]

Yandere ADA!Dazai alphabet plase? You don't have too do them all, just D, A, Z and I

TW- Physical Abuse, Psychological Abuse, Stockholm Syndrome, Manipulation, Controlling Behavior, Victim Blaming, Threat With A Gun, Love-Bombing, Talk Of Murder, Isolation, Implied Murder, Implied Torture

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get? Dazai is very intense when it comes to affection, he's very clingy and you are very rarely away from him, but even when you aren't with him, he'll call and text you a lot, constantly checking up on you and he would even bug your phone with a tracking device or at the very least, he'll hack it too find you. But he does really well with playing it off as if he's being playful or that he's just concerned for you, afterall, he's a detective, he knows the uglies of the world.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling? He's willing too get messy, very messy and he's more then willing too kill for you. But what he's willing too do and what he can do is very different, especially while he's in the agency. He won't kill if he can't get away with it. But also, he doesn't need too kill, especially with his level of intelligence, if there's someone that he doesn't like that's flirting with you, he'll just frame them for a crime. Because who's the police gonna believe? A detective in the ADA, someone who's helped them with cases before, or a suspected criminal who all the evidence points back to?

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them? ADA!Dazai wouldn't abduct you, simply because he can't. Mainly because of his job, especially if you also work for the agency and you go missing, the agency are going too look for you and Dazai knows this. So, he would mostly stick to isolation and not letting you go out too much, or, he'll make up excuses as too why you can't go somewhere or hang-out with someone, which will then cause you too lose all of your family and friends. I do think he would mock you, but only when you're pissing him off, he'll talk about how you have no friends, no family and he'll even threaten too leave you, when you go against him, because then you'll have absolutely nothing and he knows that.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will? He would. Absolutely he would, because what you want doesn't really matter to him. Now, I don't think ADA!Dazai would go as far as too noncon you, but I do think he would give you forced affection. Whether you want too be touched in an affectionate way or not, doesn't matter to him, if he's in the mood too just lay and cuddle with you, you're going too lay and cuddle. So, basically, you have no say in pretty much anything, ever. If he wants something, he's going too have it, it doesn't matter if he has too force it.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling? Not much honestly, even if he is obsessed with you, he still keeps his secrets. He doesn't want you too ever feel comfortable enough too make you think that you can exploit him in anyway. Now, sure, he'll have his vulnerable moments, he is still human after all, but he's really good at playing it off as if it was a joke and he wasn't very serious.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back? He'd be quite amused actually, he'd find your whole show quite the entertainment. But also in perfect Dazai fashion, he'd make you feel like you're doing too much, as if you're getting so worked up for no reason. If you ever did get so angry to the point where you attempt too get physical with him though, he wouldn't be so amused.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape? Yes and no. Yes simply because that's who he is, he likes too play mind games with literally everyone and he takes an immense amount of pleasure in fucking with peoples head. But also no because he does have a genuine interest in you, whatever that may be and he doesn't want you too think that he doesn't care for you at all. As for escaping, there's no real escaping simply because he's not holding you hostage but he does hate when he doesn't know where you are, so no, he doesn't.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them? The worst experience you ever had with Dazai is when you tried too break up with him. It was when the two of you had a really bad argument, and again, he was trying too minimize the situation and that pissed you off even more and the words just came out. That's when you saw his eyes just go dark and become empty as he stepped towards you, the air noticeably becoming thicker as he stared you down. You found out just why Dazai was a torture specialist in the mafia that night.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling? Dazai just wants too be happy and not constantly worry about you leaving or getting hurt, his ideal future would just be you being with him. He wants a happy life, he doesn't want too constantly dwell on the negatives of his life; if it's with you, he doesn't mind what kind of future.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope? Jealousy isn't really a big thing for Dazai, he's a very confident person. Now, playfully he'll act jealous and become all clingy if your attention is directed at someone else. But, if he were too become genuinely jealous, well then... things would get very ugly as he stares the person down, his eyes lacking all emotion as he pulls you away with him. If he's angry enough though, you might just see a news story about them, reporting his mysterious death.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling? He's very loving with you, very touchy and sweet overall. You guys look ideal out in public, it's just behind closed doors when things can get a little ugly. He does have a reputation out in public so he makes sure too keep himself in check when there are people around, but when you get home, he does a complete 180, especially if you were, in his words, misbehaving in public. But, besides that, he's a pretty good boyfriend.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling? Love-bombing. He's very affectionate, very quickly, never leaving you alone, at all. He's constantly showering you in compliments and giving you gifts, telling you about how you're the first woman he's ever felt this way about, which is true, but he said that the first week of being with you. How the love of his life and he quickly engulfs your life and he gets you too move in with him very soon after being with him, everything happens so fast that it's overwhelming for you, but again, he makes everything feel like it's natural and that's he's just so in love with you that you don't really question him.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else? Yes, they are extremely different. Dazai is very two-faced and puts up a lot of facades. When you met him, he was so sweet and loving and intelligent.. but then his true colors came to the surface and things turned ugly. He started too become controlling and very psychologically abusive. But, that's just how he is in general, he's a manipulator and a very good one at that.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling? You're already in a constant punishment with how much he keeps you isolated, but, he doesn't punish you very often, surprisingly. Simply because anytime you're pissy with him, he won't take you very seriously and he'd much rather cuddle with you then dish out punishments, he's lazy. But when he does, they're very calculated and impactful, he's more focused on breaking you down mentally then actually putting his hands on you, but he'll still spank your ass or give your hair a nice harsh little tug when he needs too.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling? A lot, if not all of them. He becomes quite the controlling boyfriend, he's always asking you where you are and who you're with. He checks your phone constantly, you have no privacy whatsoever, he is in control of your whole life. He tells you what you can and can't where, he talks for you, he orders food for you, he'll bathe you. You will have sense of independence in this relationship, he doesn't even let toy think for yourself, anytime you have an idea he'll shut you down and tell you what he thinks you should do instead.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling? Dazai is a very patient person and it takes a lot for him too actually get to the point of being genuinely pissed off. He can tell when you're purposely trying too piss him off, he knows what you're doing. Sometimes he'll playfully feed into it and pretend too be upset, but again, he can tell what you're doing so he won't feed into all the time.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on? First off, there is no leaving or escaping him, there's no where that you could go and him not find you. He is quite literally a detective, his whole job is finding people, you are no different, he will find you. If you do die though, it would break him quite a bit and he'd drink even more then he already does. It would actually frequent his suicide attempts and they wouldn't be like something like, jumping in the river, no, he'd desperately want too die and be with you.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go? Again, he wouldn't abduct you, he can't. Now, if he over did it with his little mind games and you were genuinely mentally exhausted, he may feel guilt and comfort you. But, usually he doesn't feel guilt because he sees it as something that needs too be done. Letting you go though? No. He would not, he doesn't care about how much you beg and plead for him too let you just be by yourself, and let you go out. Because it's not gonna happen.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)? Loss really. Dazai has lost a lot of people in his life and he's tired of it. So if he has too become a little controlling too keep you safe, so be it. He only wants too keep you safe and he doesn't care what he has too do in order for that too happen. You'll understand one day that he's doing all of this for you.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves? It depends on the reason why you're doing all that, because you'll get a couple different reactions from Dazai. If you're crying because of a punishment, he'll just shrug you off, and tell you that's what you get for misbehaving. If you're screaming because you're frustrated with him because he never listens to you or lets you do things for yourself, he will minimize the problem and make you feel like you're acting over-dramatic. Isolating yourself though, that will not work, if you for example, lock yourself in a room, that's not gonna do anything for you, because he can pick locks and he's quite skilled at it.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere? Sort of, since we're talking about ADA!Dazai, he won't kidnap you. Mainly because he can't, because of his job, especially if you also work for the agency and you go missing, the agency are going too look for you and Dazai knows this. So, he would mostly stick to isolation and not letting you go out too much or he'll make up excuses as too why you can't go somewhere or hang-out with someone.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape? None really. I would say physically, but even then, Dazai can fight, he was in the mafia. No his martial arts aren't as good as that of someone like Chuuyas, but he can still take care of himself in a physical fight. Also, baby he has a gun, and he's shown time and time again that not only does he know how too use said gun but also that he's not afraid too use it. Mentally though, there's no winning there obviously. He is far too intelligent too be thrown off by some meaningless little comment.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling? Yes, he would. I do think he would mainly be psychologically abusive instead of physically abusive. Now I say mainly because, I do think he would still hit you, but Dazais whole thing is mind games, plus people can't see psychological scars like they can with physical scars. Also psychological trauma lasts longer then physical trauma, because scars and bruises will heal. Being psychologically broken down will be much harder too bounce back from, and Dazai understands that.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over? Too win you over, he's pulling out all of the stops, cranking up his charm by tenfold. He'll take you to all these cute places and get you little gifts too charm you. Worshipping you though? If Dazai is in deep enough, he'd see you as like a landline of sorts, and would make sure that you're safe. Probably not to the point where you're a reason for him living, but to the point where he actually starts too enjoy life, because he gets too be with you.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap? Pretty long actually, like I said, he's a very patient man and he can wait. It's a pretty slow thing, especially with all the love-bombing that he uses. He knows you won't just automatically cling to him and go out with him, so he's willing too work for it, but even he can get impatient, especially if you reject him. He will snap and he will become very confrontational, to the point you become scared of him and are only with him out of fear.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling? Not really, and also not fully, it would be more like him getting rid of things that he doesn't like about your behavior because he would find no pleasure in you being a broken shell of your former self. He'd actually find it quite boring in all honesty. If it was something like you constantly challenging him, which would piss him off, he'd correct that behavior. But he wouldn't break you completely because there's a reason that he likes you and once that reason goes away he'd get bored.

[photmath]

Another Round? | Trent Alexander-Arnold

Pairing: Trent Alexander-Arnold x Female Reader

Summary: One conversation about your sexual desires leads you bent sideways with the last person you expected.

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: SUGGESTIVE CONTENT (18+), minors DNI, partying, mention of fwb content

Note: Kind of a bit rushed and ahhh, I may end up doing some edits later.

You weren’t supposed to be in this position: head resting on his bare chest while his arm skimmed your waist. It all happened too fast. You knew the saying, “one thing leads to another,” but you never expected to find yourself a victim to those words. You thought it was a fluke, that if you ever found yourself in that position you would resist it.

But here you were nonetheless. Having slept with the man no one—least of all, you—expected.

“I’m so glad you could make it!” Brie screamed, drawing you in for a hug. She was hosting a last-minute party as the summer holiday was slowly coming to a break. Her and your close friends were invited to come to her beach house for the weekend, although you weren’t entirely sure how long you were planning on staying.

It was the first time most of you were together after university had let out. Although many of you were close enough for shared vacations and had been on some together already, it was hard to get the entire friend group together, dates often overlapping with other events.

You gave Brie a smile while scoping out the set up. Brie’s family owned a private area of the beach, the sand and water only a few steps off of her backyard deck. She had already laid logs in a circle around the soon-to-be bonfire.

Hearing raucous, you turn towards the noise and see a car pulling in. Brie chuckles, “That must be Jude and Trent.”

You didn’t share many classes with either of them, but they were in the friend group, always loud and present. Jude was the newest addition, a teammate of Trent’s that he would drag to parties. Jude was much younger than the rest of you all, you often joked about his age while he would just roll his eyes.

Trent on the other hand, was much more private. He could be rowdy with the group sometimes but also very reserved to himself. The two of you were never super close like he was with others. Only friends with two entirely different lifestyles who made small talk. Trent lived for parties and football while you would be locked up in the studio working on a new canvas. The only parties you went to were the ones Brie and the others hosted.

“Hey!” Jude yells, gaining your attention. You expected to see Trent coming out of the driver’s side but it’s Jude.

You beam, “Long time no see, strangers.”

Trent wears dark, circled shades so you can’t make out if he’s looking at you when he looks in your direction. A small smile tugs to his lips as the gold necklace around his neck shines above his black button-up. Jude, on the other hand, wore bright red swimming trunks and a black tank that hugged him tight.

“Nice to see you again,” he pulls you close to him briefly, then turns around and tosses Trent the car keys.

Breaking the ice, you force out a chuckle in Trent’s direction as he gives you a one-armed hug, “You let him drive?”

“He needed the practice,” Trent shrugs, his arm sliding off of your shoulders once you remove yours from his waist. “He may not have a license, but I don’t have a car right now.”

You furrow your brows, suddenly confused, “Where’s yours?”

“I sold it.”

“But you promised you would let me drive it!” you exclaim. It was true, he had a Lamborghini that he was ‘borrowing’ from his uncle, but then later admitted it was his car. He had let a couple of his friends drive it and once it was supposed to be your turn, he said it was getting too late and that he should head home.

Trent only smiles, “You can drive the next car.”

“Is it a Lambo?”

“No,” he says, walking towards the house.

You let out a small sound of defeat, not at all that entirely upset, but you would’ve loved to be behind the wheel of that car. Following Trent silently, you get a whiff of his cologne. The smell intoxicates your senses and somehow also relieves the tension in your shoulders. Once you two make it further into the kitchen of the house, Jude comes by and slings his arm over you, handing you an alcoholic can.

“Oh I’m not drinking tonight,” you refuse, laughing as he takes a gulp. You raise a brow, “Aren’t you too young?”

He rolls his eyes, “You know I’m not.” He tucks the other can into his armpit, taking another gulp, “I’m planning on getting fucked up.”

“So you’re staying the night?”

He nods, “Mm-hmm, just tonight. I can’t stay tomorrow night—family stuff.”

“You’re taking Trent back then?”

He shrugs, “Don’t know. He wants to stay all three days, but I told him I can’t take him home so we’ll see.”

“Okay, try not to get wasted before the party starts,” you smirk, pulling away from him. Jude gives you a boyish grin as you walk away to help out Brie. Trent leans against the kitchen island, peeking through the tins of food. He catches you walking past, sending you a soft smile. His shades now abandoned, hanging against the buttons of his shirt.

---

As more and more people arrived—university and childhood friends alike—the looser you became. You were still sipping on a soda as you swayed to the music, you all moving closer to the beach. Not everyone was expected to stay the night, and the ones that were, seemed to be the most buzzed. Jude had to be hauled out of the beach multiple times and be kept under the supervision of you all.

You had lost track of Trent, in all honesty, not even looking for him but once you noticed he was missing, you were curious. He had never crossed your mind before, but now that he wasn’t in your line of sight, suddenly you were—what? Making sure he hadn’t left? Hadn’t taken off without telling you his goodbyes?

Usually, if he were to leave the room, you weren’t immediately thinking of him like you were now.

The beach was only lit from the bonfire and the lights that showcased through the windows of the house. The deck and pool were also illuminated as you walked towards the house. You wanted a new soda anyway.

As you mingled with a couple of friends on your way there, you spotted Trent on the edge of the deck near the ice chests. Of course. You make your way towards him, tossing the empty can into a bin and then giving him a timid smile once he turns your way.

“Have you seen Jude?” he asks, bending down to open the cooler for you. You pick another drink and then stand up, cracking it open.

“Last I saw him, he was puking by the fire.”

Trent shakes his head with disapproval, “That kid.”

“What? Are you on babysitting duty?”

He chuckles, “No. I have his keys anyway.”

You watch as he swings his soda in his hand, staring around at the crowd. He seemed a mixture of uninterested and very nonchalant as he looked all around you. You give him a meek smile although he doesn’t catch it, “Are you going to go by the bonfire?”

“No.”

You nod slowly, pointing towards it, “Well I’m going to go.”

“Have fun,” he voices aloof.

Asshole.

That was the kind of Trent you were more used to. Few words towards you. Either lively or withering, never in between. Feeling embarrassed for evening caring, you pull out your phone and text someone you swore to let go of months ago, but you needed an outlet for a few minutes.

A couple of hours pass as you find yourself in the pool with Brie and Jude, his eyes are brimmed red while he sings loudly in your ear. He keeps swaying side to side, making water slap against your cheek.

“Jude,” you scold.

“Sorry, love,” he slurs, giggling and then turning towards Brie to serenade her.

You laugh, scrolling through Brie’s phone to queue the next song. Your own phone is in your other hand, dangerously filled with water droplets. It buzzes and you squint to make out the blurry text:

Sorry, not making it tonight.

You groan, Jude suddenly turning towards you but you are quick to lock your phone. You hand Brie back her phone, “Think I’m going to go take a walk.”

“Okay, stay close to the house.”

“Will do,” you smile, wading through the water to get to the other end. You dry yourself with a towel and then slide your cover up back on before rolling your eyes as you reread the text message. Making your way to the boardwalk, you don’t notice Trent leaning against the wooden frame until he’s a step in front of you.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing,” you grumble. You walk past him, slipping your phone into your pocket. The bottom of his shoes scrape against the wood as he follows you.

“Who texted?”

“No one.”

Trent chuckles, “You seem upset.”

“I’m not,” you grit your teeth. The boardwalk led up to the small lot reserved for cars, your own car being one of them. You hadn’t necessarily meant to walk towards them, but you were suddenly thankful that you had left your car keys in the pocket of your cover up.

“Are you leaving?”

“No.”

“But your car is—”

“I’m not leaving, Trent.” Trent’s skin glows dimly from the fire off in the distance although the both of you are too far to be seen from the house and beach. You lean against your car door and fold your arms, “I needed some space.”

The muscles of his arms grow as he folds them, shifting his weight to one leg. A smirk crawls onto his face as he swipes his bottom lip with his thumb, “Ah, I know what you were up to.”

You roll your eyes, still somewhat annoyed that he was still here pestering you—especially after you had left him alone when he was practically begging for silence earlier. “What was I up to then?”

“You were on your way to see someone.”

“No I wasn’t.”

“Yes you were,” he repeats. “You’re disappointed because they said no.”

You want to roll your eyes but don’t want to give him the satisfaction of being right because that’s exactly what you did. They were supposed to be at the party anyway, but didn’t feel like making the hour-long drive towards the beach at the last minute. As if the drive was so long anyway.

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Since you seem to know the answer to your question, why ask then?” you ask in vexation. Trent was loving it, pleased to have pressed your buttons and guess correctly, though it was never a competition in his eyes.

The smirk he wears slowly fades as a moment of silence passes. He makes a noise with his lips before he speaks, “I don’t know…was wondering what they had that wasn’t already here.”

You shake your head, “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“What conversation?”

“You’re doing a lot right now,” you wave him off, grabbing a hold of the keys in your pocket and unlocking the car.

“Oh come on,” he deflates. “I’m kidding around, I’m sorry.” Opening the door, you hop in while he steps forward, “Wait—I really didn’t mean it, Y/N.”

You chew on your bottom lip as he keeps the door pried open, his hand wrapped on top of it. He’s staring down at you, waiting for your response.

“Get in the damn car then.”

“Are you serious?” he hesitates.

“If you ask me another question, Trent, I seriously think I’m going to lose it,” you warn. He only lets out a snort, shutting your door and walking around to the other end. His black shirt flaps open as he walks across the front, him sporting the same blank tank as Jude underneath.

He hops into the passenger seat, flashing you a nervous look as you turn on your car, “Don’t kill me now.”

“You willingly drove with Jude,” you retorted, letting out a smile to lose some of the tension you were having. You didn’t want the entire drive to be uncomfortable for the both of you. You start the car and then pull out, Trent looking around eagerly. “Do you want ice cream?”

He makes a face, “Not really…”

“Well that sucks,” you look at him and he turns towards you. His eyes are quick as they scan the features of your face, subtle but noticeable. “I was only asking nicely because I want ice cream.”

Trent lets out a strained laugh, “Uh—I guess I can do ice cream if you’re paying.”

“Woah, I never said that.”

“But you asked!”

“To take your order, not to pay.”

“It’ll only be a few.”

“Fine,” you concede, waving him off. He chuckles, settling in his seat as you come to the street. You don’t need directions to make it to the beachside stores that were ten minutes away from the house, having always picked up ice cream from the parlor late at night.

Parking the car, you turn it off and hop out, Trent immediately by your side as he looks around the stores. “They never sleep, hmm?”

You shake your head, “Not with the abundance of drunk tourists.”

“I’ve always driven past here but never stopped.”

“We can walk around if you’d like, I don’t mind.”

“Sure,” he smiles, pulling the door handle of the parlor and letting you walk in first. You beam at the worker, immediately ordering a two-scoop ice cream cone while Trent orders pralines and cream in a cone. He ends up paying for the cones, making a deal with you because you put up with him teasing you.

As the two of you walk down the boardwalk, you point at items you find interesting or what he finds ludicrous. He stops at a bench that looks on towards the moon and dark horizon of the water and sits down, “So just to calm down my curiosity, are you ever going to tell me what made you upset? I know it’s not my business but I am curious.”

You sit down next to him, muttering, “You were right.”

Trent’s eyebrows shoot up as he stares at you, his jaw gaping wide, “No way.”

“Yes,” you nod, finally biting onto the waffle cone.

“You were going to leave the party to hook up with someone?”

You nod again, cheeks burning slightly while you were acknowledging your escapades with Trent of all people. Neither of you had ever exchanged these kinds of intimate details despite knowing that the both of you were having sex with other people around the university. For Trent especially, it wasn’t uncommon for your friends to tease him about a fresh, new hickey on him at times.

“I can’t believe it,” he murmurs. “That I was right about that.”

“Don’t act surprised as if you wouldn’t do it yourself.”

“I would probably do it with someone at the party, not drive to them,” he exasperates. “I would never drive.”

“I know, that’s why the girl always has to drive and it’s annoying,” you lean up against the bench, folding one of your legs on top of the other. “Then you guys think we’re the desperate ones, but the truth is you all are lazy.”

He shakes his head, “No no, not entirely true. I’ve driven to them before, but I mean there were a bunch of people at the party, Y/N! Why couldn’t you have just had sex with someone there?”

You shrug, you hadn’t thought of it. You had a small fear of getting caught, but then you also wondered where exactly you would have sex with someone at. It didn’t help that you knew almost everyone at that party in some kind of way, so it wasn’t the first idea you thought of.

“How far was the drive?” he grills.

“Still with the questions, Trent,” you tease. “A little under an hour.”

“Oh my!” he exclaims. “You were going to drive all the way over there for what?”

“It’s just easier when you already know the person,” you defend. “Have you never had casual sex?”

“I have,” he turns your way, “I’m just shocked, I can’t lie.”

You have heard this story before. No one ever expected you to be having sex with men regularly, making it seem like you had so many partners when you didn’t.

You try to bite your tongue but fail, “And then that’s another thing. Everyone sees me as some innocent girl who has no idea what she’s doing when I do. It’s like they’re intrigued with corrupting me and trying to ‘break me,’ and then when they figure out that I do know what I’m doing, they get all butt hurt.”

Trent’s eyes grow wide, the cone almost slipping out of his grip as he listens to you.

“Men have the worst egos, getting so upset that they don’t last long, so I can never have my way, and always have to let them be in control,” you rant. “They’re so fragile! I mean it’s not a bad thing you can’t last for a couple of minutes if the other person knows what they’re doing—it’s the reaction you guys have afterward.”

Trent puts his hand up in the air to slow you down, “Wait, is this about the guy you were going to meet up with?”

You groan, “Him and others.”

“Then why were you going to go back if you know what to expect?” Although there’s a decent amount of space between the two of you, Trent still outstretches his arm on top of the bench as he angles his body towards yours. “Because you know him?”

“That, and I mean sometimes he lets me have his way.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

You give him an all-knowing look and he shrugs. You sputter out an awkward laugh, “I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”

Trent was all for it, enjoying the gossip from an outsider point of you. He chuckles, “I won’t tell anyone. Come on, now tell me what absolutely kills girls having sex with us.”

“You better not, Trent, this is only now slightly embarrassing.”

He raises his arms up, “You have my word.”

It was unwise to trust him so quickly but you did it anyway. You sigh, “He would never let me get on top, it’d always be him doing the work, and then the second I wanted to take control he wasn’t having it.”

Trent frowns, “He never wanted you to get on top?”

“A couple of times, but then he would be pulling me off.”

“Let me guess, he lasted only two seconds?”

You facepalm, groaning, “Yes!”

Trent lets out a loud laugh, “Oh god.”

“It’s happened to me before, almost as if they like the idea of me doing the work until it actually happens,” you complain. “Then other little pet peeves of course—when they come first and just leave you hanging there, but that’s a common one that girls complain about.”

Trent nods, his face scrunched up, “I’ve heard that before—not about me though.”

You roll your eyes, “Whatever, I’m sure she has faked it before.”

Trent blows out a whisk of air, shaking his head adamantly, “No, no, let’s finish talking about you before we start with me.”

You laugh. Trent had long gone finished his cone while listening to you, but you never really had the chance to eat yours while ranting. Trent notices the subtle frown beginning to form on your face, “I can buy you another after this, or when I tell you my stories.”

“No, it’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Hmm,” you debate, reconsidering as a kind smile forms on his face. Well, since he asked so nicely. “Let me think about it.”

“You want me to toss it for you?”

“Sure, thank you, Trent.” You hand him the melted mess of the cone wrapped inside the napkin. He had always been thoughtful, attentive to his friends and certain facial expressions that he was a master at reading. Especially when you all were out in public, he protected the group and made sure everyone made it home safely.

He comes back to the bench, sitting a little closer than before and turns towards you. “Go on,” he smirks.

“Sometimes when men talk too much mid-act,” you go on.

Trent snorts, “Not a fan?”

You shrug, “Sometimes. I just wish men could read the room better, that there’s a time and place for it and sometimes we aren’t feeling it. But nooo, they keep on doing their thing, disregarding the other entirely.”

Trent can’t help but to watch your face contort as you talk, enamored by the way you weren’t embarrassed to share this with him. “Maybe you have had bad partners. You haven’t found the right person. Do you want a relationship at all with them?”

“Not him,” you cringe, earning a laugh from Trent.

“Are you looking for a relationship?”

You shrug, “If it happens, it happens.”

“So, just sex?”

“Not with every guy I see.”

He scoffs, “Obviously, I’m not judging here.”

“I only want to try out different things, is that too hard to ask for?” you sigh. You wished you had some kind of shame sounding like a horny teenager but you were fed up. It had been months since you had more-than-decent sex, one in which you didn’t feel obliged to follow their lead. You didn’t mind when they took control, but you didn’t want the same thing over and over again. Now, you were comfortable admitting what you did and didn’t want.

Trent snickers, “I mean personally, I don’t mind when they take the lead. Yeah, I like doing my own thing but—” he shrugs “—it’s not the end of the world. Do I come faster when she’s on top? Sometimes, yes, but that just means another round and some more foreplay.”

You almost hated the way the little light in your brain suddenly piqued with interest when he first mentioned that he didn’t mind giving up the lead. You couldn’t see Trent that way. He wasn’t someone who you ever considered sleeping with, especially when the two of you had never bonded like the others. He wasn’t someone you hung out regularly with, and so the two of you suddenly being closer would raise some suspicions. And goodness, why were you thinking this deeply about him?

It was never going to happen.

You nod, trying to remember Trent’s words, “Foreplay. Always important.”

“And aftercare.”

You stifle a laugh, “That too.”

Trent takes a moment before his next response, letting the sound of the waves lapping over each other fill the silence. Trent lets out an airy sigh, “Do you still want your ice cream? I reckon it’s getting quite late.”

“No, thank you for the offer though,” you smile. He stands up, holding his hand out for you to take. You grab a hold of it, impressed with the warmth and then let it go as the two of you make it back to the car. It was a much lighter walk, perhaps because of the two of you sharing a few more-than-personal details between each other.

He bumps into your shoulder, whispering, “Wait, so does this mean you rarely gave this man head?”

You laugh, “I mean, unless we weren’t planning on having sex afterward, then yes. Once he came, he was done for the day.”

Trent gawks, holding in his laughter, “Oh man. And you still wanted to drive to him!”

“Shut up,” you push him away. “He was my only option.”

Trent sputters out a laugh, “I mean, I wouldn’t say only option.”

And you knew the look he gave you, it was almost universal. The suggestive eyes accompanied with a small smirk. The two of you didn’t exchange another word as you got to the car, but the feeling was mutual and thick. The profound silence didn’t help either. You avoided his gaze like a hawk the entire drive, hoping that the party would still be at its peak when you arrived.

But it only took one look as you turned off the car at the lot, the party still in full effect. It was a quick glance in his direction, but Trent was already looking at you through a hooded gaze. If you held no composure, you would have jumped on him in a second.

“Fuck,” you mutter.

“What?” he asks lowly, voice full of sultry. He takes off his seatbelt and does nothing else.

“I knew this was going to happen.”

Trent looks around in the car, his hand raising, “Nothing is happening.”

“I knew that as soon as I started talking about sex you would see it as an invitation. I’m not having sex with you.”

He shakes his head, “I never said that. I didn’t think of that either.”

“Then fix your face.”

“It’s fixed.”

You raise a brow while staring at him. The both of you were having a standoff, seeing who would fold first. You could lie and say you didn’t want this, but Trent’s cologne, his exposed chest, his hands—they were all drawing you in. They’d been drawing you in since the night started, only now were you finally realizing it.

Trent’s lips curl up, “I wasn’t trying to have sex with you. Get your head out of the gutter.”

“Oh shut up,” you retort.

“You talked about guys having bad egos,” he smiles, his teeth flashing in your direction. He was teasing now, enjoying the way you had suddenly gone quiet.

“I stand by it.”

His low laugh echoes throughout the car, and the sound of you unclicking your seatbelt is even louder. Trent’s gaze follows the seatbelt sliding back into its spot. He wasn’t going to make the first move, you knew that.

Groaning, you hide your smile with your hand, “Agh, you’re such an ass.”

His sneer only widens as he looks down at his own thighs. Your car was tall enough for you to hop on top of him hypothetically, but did you really want to have sex with him in the parking lot? Somehow, the idea of the two of you getting caught only intrigued you more.

“There’s more space in the back,” you suggest. “If—you know—something were to…”

Trent leans in slowly, his fingertips grazing across your jaw, stopping at your chin, “Ah, I thought you wanted to be in control, are you getting shy, love?”

Your face was the warmest it had been the entire night, not even when you were standing directly in front of the bonfire were you this hot. His delicate fingers press against your cheek and chin, teasing you the entire time.

You gulp, your breath hitching as his hand falls towards your neck, “Trent—”

“Tell me what you want.”

“Get in the backseat.” His fingers trail upward again as you feel his exhale land on your face.

“And?”

“I don’t know if I can go on top.”

He smirks, eyes snapping right back to yours, “Why is that?”

“I—”

“You got shy?”

“A little,” you roll your eyes. Trent only chuckles, caressing your cheek with his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he assures. “Do you want to do this or not?”

Glancing down at his lips, you nod, “Yes.”

“I’m all yours then.”

Trent waited until you initiated the kiss. He didn’t want to smash his lips onto yours until you at least made the slightest of movements. And that’s what it was: teeth clashed, mouths hungrily attacked the other, while your hands searched for any ounce of skin they could find. Trent’s touch was still a bit hesitant, but once he felt how much you pushed against him, no longer did he restrain himself.

He palmed your breast, eliciting a gasp as the other hand of his removed your cover up.

“Backseats?” he groaned, feeling the growing tightness of his shorts. He only wanted to pull you on top of him, and finally let you have your way with him like you craved.

“Mm-hmm,” you moan. You detached from him and immediately the both of you jumped out of the front seats and went into the back. Because of all the talking you had done previously, the windows were foggy. And as the night continued, it would get more humid and hot.

Trent met you in the middle, gripping onto your jaw to deeply kiss you. The car was too dark to make out his neck and below, so you had to trace against the ridges of his abs through his shirt in order to find his bulge. He groaned as you made contact, buckling his hips into your palms.

That was all you needed for you to change your mind. You peeled out of his grip while his head fell against the headrest as you squeezed him through his trunks.

His hands were lost in your hair as you tugged his shorts down, he expressed a loud moan once you drew him into your mouth. Even as you continued, he wasn’t quieting down, letting you do whatever you wanted. A small light from the fire landed on his cheek, and it made watching him more serene as he contorted with each suck and brush of your tongue.

“Fuck, I won’t last this round, but I will the next one,” he pants.

You chuckle, feeling his hands go stiff beside you and his hips jolt. His stomach deflates as he spills right into your mouth, watching you try to catch every speckle of him.

As more clothes were discarded throughout the night, he made sure to kiss you in every spot he could, taking his time until he got you to hold him in a whimpering mess. Going back and forth between gentle and rough, increasing his thrusts whenever he knew you were close. He let you ride him for the last round, you bubbling with eagerness once you finally had his thighs underneath yours. Trent’s lips were attached to the skin of your collarbone throughout, his palms kneaded and squeezed the flesh of your butt.

He kept his word and lasted for those two rounds, just now finally pulling out to come in between you two. The car was sticky, the windows dripping with condensation as he pulled you closer to him. Your panting chest rested against his bruised shoulders—love marks and crescent-shaped indents from your nails that nearly drew blood littered his body. Your chest was nearly the same mosaic as his.

Trent planted gentle kisses on your chest and neck, his hands soothing along your thighs and waist. He rested his head against the headrest breathing heavily, you sitting on top of him with a lousy smirk.

That had topped all of your previous sex sessions, Trent was so in tune with what caused a reaction out of you versus what didn’t. He didn’t waste time in trying to find one, only moving on to a different area to kiss, tease, or suck.

“That was really good,” Trent praises.

“Are you surprised?”

“I’m impressed.”

You laugh, kissing his cheek, “I guess you can say I’ve had some practice.”

“Why not practice on me from now on?” he asks.

You narrow your eyes, a smirk forming as your hands rest on the nape of his sweaty neck. Neither of you had dared to move, still needing to somehow clean the mess that ran down the both of you. “What do you mean?”

“We have sex together.”

“Exclusively?”

“Yes.”

Your cheeks flushed, “Are you being serious?”

“Yes. If you’d like.”

You gape, Trent sending a teasing smile as he stared back at your shock. You weren’t opposed, not when your legs were still numb and feeling the aftershocks of what had transpired. “Friends with benefits?”

He nods, holding out his pinky finger, “Friends with benefits.”

“Don’t fall in love with me,” you tease.

“Going to be hard when you have me in a mess like that,” he chuckles, puckering out his lips for a kiss. You give him a peck and then rub your hands against his shoulders. You moving your thighs make the both of you groan at the throbbing feeling.

“Round four?” you joke, but once you look up at him, his eyes already gleam with a darkened haze.

Jokes were on you.

---

Returning to the beach house wasn’t as difficult as you thought it would be, although you did lose your cover up in the process. It was sacrificed to wipe off the mess of you two since you didn’t have a spare towel in the car. Trent’s shirt was black, so you definitely didn’t want that to be stained.

Your legs felt like jello as you made your way to the upstairs, every muscle was sore. Trent was some meters behind, lagging behind and trying to blend in. Your room was the farthest out of everyone’s, per Brie’s request since you were her best friend.

Sneaking Trent inside to the room seemed to be the challenging part. Glancing down from the upstairs balcony, you could see Jude immediately attach to him, asking him where he had gone. Trent shrugs and makes up a lie of grabbing his bag from the car, handing Jude his bag as well.

Once Trent makes it to the bedroom, the two of you share a shower. There isn’t another round of sex, just the two of you giggling with some afterthought shock. His grip never fell from you as the two of you slept that night.

The most unlikely pair.

So when you are the one offering to take Trent back home, everyone looks your way.

“He’s out of your way though.”

“Are you sure?”

You shrug, “It’s fine, I don’t mind it. I know you guys want to get home and all, so yeah it’s okay.”

Perhaps you were trying to convince them a little too much, but they backed down soon after. Trent sent you an appreciative smile from the other end of the kitchen.

Brie wraps her arm around you, “Thank you for doing that.”

What commenced afterward still surprises you. Trent and you continued sneaking around throughout the summer. It was easy hiding it from your friends when they weren’t around, but it was difficult once your university classes started. Study sessions in the library were full of stolen glances, making excuses to leave early only for Trent to follow you afterward.

Anytime the two of you found yourselves sitting next to one another, his hands would be teasing your thigh. You did the same to stir a reaction from him, but he was better at being stoic. Stolen blowjobs, fingering, kissing, and quick sex sessions were common in between hang outs, but it was not only that.

Being with him switched from strictly sex and friendship to something much more than the two of you had yet to acknowledge. There were dates, days he had taken care of you because you felt sick, days you called him over because you wanted cuddles.

He often showed up to your apartment to ask about your day, wanting to spend time with you between his classes and training. You even showed more interest in going to football games that Brie had questioned you about because you seldomly did prior.

It was hard trying to keep the deal to not fall in love with him when he had made many advances. He was still very attentive to you and your concerns.

So when you finally told him about your feelings, you were nervous, expecting him to tease you about losing first but he was taken aback.

“I was getting worried,” he admitted, “I knew I had already fallen and I was waiting for you to let me down easy.” You were wearing his hoodie, a hoodie that you often slept in on the days he didn’t spend the night at your apartment. He was holding you in his lap, eyes full of admiration, “I think I fell in love with you the day at the boardwalk. I know we were only talking about sex, but something about hearing you talk to me without a care of judgment, it made me see you differently. Made me want to hold you and never let you go. You trusted me.”

You wiped the few tears that had fallen and he kissed your tear-stained cheeks when you told him you loved him. That night, making love to him felt so much more meaningful, more exposing than ever before. He had seen all the sides of you the past six months and never dared to run.

Despite officially now being in a relationship, the two of you still kept it lowkey without intending to do so. The two of you had been so used to sneaking glances and small smiles from far, and subtle head nods to signal the want of leaving, that it was difficult transitioning out of.

Still, one day it was going to come to the limelight, you just hadn’t expected it to be on your birthday.

“Oh my god!” Brie screeches. “You’re fucking Trent, aren’t you?”

You choke on the water you had previously chugged, coughing abruptly. Four of your other friends, plus Jude and Trent, stare at you and Brie in the kitchen. They’re only some strides away, lounging on the living room couches. Brie was not at all quiet.

“There’s no way,” one of them comments.

Your cheeks are burning as you resist the urge to look over at Trent to gauge his reaction. They all seemed to be stunned in silence. You wipe your mouth, “What?”

Brie clamps her hand over her mouth and pulls you from your wrist into your own bedroom. Once she shuts the door, she apologizes, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to expose the two of you in front of everyone. I couldn’t hold in my shock.”

“It’s okay,” you reason. It was going to come out anyway. “We weren’t trying to hide it.”

She raises her brows, “Not trying to? We never heard a peep, especially me.”

“We weren’t trying to hide it anymore,” you say sheepishly. “How did you find out?”

“I saw a text from you on his phone the other day when we were studying,” she explains. “I didn’t think much of it and didn’t mean to look, but then…I kind of started to notice the way the two of you would look at each other. It was clear something happened and erm, the both of you came to the table with a hickey when it wasn’t there before you both left one day.”

You snort, “I’m really bad at covering those, aren’t I?”

Brie lets out a nervous laugh, “But Trent? How can that be?”

You shrug, “Your summer party, it works wonders.”

“Aww,” she gushes. “He’s a great guy too. I’m glad the two of you finally got closer together. I knew that the two of you would have clicked!”

Brie musters out a laugh as the two of you hug and leave the room to meet the others. Jude and Trent’s figures fall through the door, having had their ears pressed up to the door to listen. You roll your eyes, sending Trent a smirk before standing to the balls of your feet and pulling him in for a kiss.

As the others gawk, you wave them off. Trent’s arms are firm around your waist, not daring to let go. He loved every second of this.

------

[antebunny]

Babysitter from Hell

Jason changes his mind on never associating with any of the Bats ever again because of one Stephanie Brown. She had absolutely no intention of changing his mind about anything, she just showed up and started talking until Jason begrudgingly accepted his fate as the “I’ll kill for you” member of a “live for me” family. 

(That’s a lie. He’s gotten over 10% of anything that’s ever happened to him in his eventful albeit painfully short life. But he’s working on it, okay?)  

Before Jason knew any better, Steph reminded him of Dick. A cheerful, upbeat personality, a flagrant and equally cheerful disregard for Batman’s orders, an overconsumption of sugary breakfast items, a love for bright colors, and an annoying distaste for brutality, considering both are (technically) violent criminals. 

Really, the main difference he saw was that Steph fucking hates his guts. 

Jason is still sure that Dick will, eventually, after Titan’s Tower. He put his plan to give his Replacement a beat-down on hold after the Bats discovered his identity. It’s hard to maintain his level of hatred for the Bats when they keep soft-speaking at him like he’s some sort of victim they’re rescuing. That’s also why he keeps avoiding Dick. The guy treats all of Jason’s threats against the Replacement like one big joke. Who would’ve thought that the “getting pissed on the Replacement’s behalf” job would fall to his ex-girlfriend?

In summary, Jason thought Steph was a purple-clad, blond-haired female version of Dick with no emotional attachment to the second Robin, and a personal relationship with the third Robin. An enemy, in other words. Someone with every reason to be ideologically opposed to Jason for the rest of time. 

Still, she’s a kid. Jason has promised himself to be nice to all vigilantes, no matter how sanctimonious or annoying, so long as they’re only fifteen years old. So when he finds her perched on a rooftop corner, doing recon on a case that he is working on, he mutters a curse to himself and doubles back to find a good spot to grapple to her rooftop without anyone noticing. He doesn’t want to get in a fight with a kid, but he doesn’t want anyone to think they’re on friendly terms, either. Better that no one knows.

Spoiler notices him coming at the last second and rolls to her feet. Too late if he was actually trying to kill her, and she’s also giving up her position. How sloppy. Jason can’t believe Batman’s letting her out like this. 

“Go run home to daddy,” he growls. “Before I make you.”

That should be enough. Jason has a gun. (A lot of them). She can’t have more than two years of training. She clearly has been instructed not to engage with him, if the way she quietly mutters O, it’s Hood, yes I’m leaving immediately pinky promise means anything. Which is why Jason is utterly floored when she snaps back at him.

“My dad’s in jail, where he belongs,” Spoiler retorts.

“What.”

That’s all Jason can manage when Jason_Todd.exe stops functioning. Several rebooting attempts fail as they run into Bruce is in jail??? then no, obviously not Bruce then I don’t even care if Bruce is in jail then who is Spoiler, anyway? If Jason casts his mind back to who he thought Spoiler was before all this happened, he would’ve said roughly middle class, most likely orphaned, and probably had a parent that was the head of Gotham’s social services before being brutally murdered by some Rogue who hated anyone being nice to orphans. It would’ve been on par for the course, at least. Bruce’s parents were good up until they were good and dead. Same with Dick. Barbara’s dad, despite being the chief of police, was somehow the one non-corrupt cop in all of Gotham. Jason was the only unlucky one.

Or so he thought.

“So unless you’re gonna put me in jail,” Spoiler prompts. “Which would be pretty hypocritical of you, considering–”

“What the fuck is he locked up for?”

Okay, he could’ve said that nicer. And he said he would be nice to kids. But consider: Jason is just not very good at keeping his promises.

Spoiler stares at him blankly in a way only someone wearing white-out lenses and a lower face mask can. “For…being a knockoff Riddler? Ever heard of Cluemaster? I guess it’s understandable for your average citizen to not but like, this is your job, dude. How can you not–”

“Cluemaster?” Jason interrupts again, even harsher than before. He vaguely recognizes the name from the long list of minor villains that came and went while Jason was away. “Arthur Brown?”

“Yep!” Spoiler springs forward and extends a hand. Belatedly he realizes that he hasn’t lowered his gun. “Stephanie Brown, nice ta meet ‘cha!”

And that’s how Jason learns Steph’s name. 

Jason finally does lower the gun, only so that he can bat her hand away and look frantically around the rooftop for anyone who might’ve overheard. “You can’t just tell me your secret identity!” He shouts, careful to not repeat her name even when he’s losing control over his volume. “That–what the fuck! That’s Vigilantism 101!” 

Spoiler–Stephanie–picks up his hand and shakes it vigorously.

“What the fuck,” Jason repeats blankly while his hand–or more accurately, blood-stained glove–is shaken by an overeager fifteen-year-old idiot. “What the fuck. I’m a–a Rogue. I’m your enemy. How the fuck did B let you out in a mask.”

“Okay, first of all, B didn’t let me do anything,” Stephanie corrects, affronted about all the wrong things. “I was the one running around trying to stop my dad’s–Cluemaster, in case you already forgot–plans. Second of all, I know who you are, I’m not an idiot. B got a hell of a lecture on how it’s very not pogchamp to keep important secrets from us. I wouldn’t just tell anyone. Third, I thought you already knew? Aren’t you obsessed with Robin? How come you didn’t already know?”

Jason steps away from her, mind reeling with memories of two-bit criminal Willis Todd and his reign of terror in that shitty, one-bedroom apartment deep in Park Row. He would bet his (second) life that long before Arthur Brown took to the streets, he took whatever it is that’s so fucked up inside him out on those closest to him. His family, the people that needed and trusted him the most, the people that could not just walk away. 

How many times has Jason thought of Willis Todd and burned with resentment whenever the Bats preached about all criminals getting second chances? They wouldn’t get it, he’d told himself; a hollow comfort, clearly, when Stephanie is standing right in front of him, as bright and cheerful as ever, happy to be working with the Bats even while she spits on her father’s memory. 

(Not memory. His name. He’s alive, albeit rotting in prison. Just one more abuser that Batman refused to kill for someone he l–someone under his protection). 

“I know now,” Jason drawls. “Should’ve listened to their lectures on secret identities. Now leave, little girl.”

And maybe it’s the insult, or O (whoever that is, because Jason does not, in fact, know) telling her to go, but Spoiler gives him one more affronted look and leaves.

It’s not the last he hears of Spoiler, of course. Though someone clearly gives her the mother of all lectures afterwards, because she avoids him for a couple weeks. That gives him the time to do his own research. 

Stephanie Brown lives in the Narrows with her mother, a mere hop and skip from where Jason grew up. She went to public school up until last academic year, whereupon she got a scholarship from Wayne Foundation. She attends Gotham Academy, like the Replacement, like Barbara, like Dick (like Jason before that too was stolen from him).

She’s surprisingly similar to Jason. (He swears he’s not just drawing comparison for his own ego). Her mother is still alive, so she received a scholarship instead of being adopted by Bruce. But both fathers were a joke to the very idea of fatherhood. (Both mothers failed to protect them from the father). Both grew up in poor, dangerous neighborhoods with violent, criminal fathers. 

The thing is–and Jason surprises himself with the revelation–he wants to mentor her. Jason is very sure that he understands, better than any of the Bats, what she has gone through. The same soft streak which hates to see kids on the streets wants to take her under his wing.

I don’t understand, Little Wing. What did he do to you?

It’s impossible for so many reasons that it doesn’t bother stating. Jason isn’t a Bat (anymore), and the lack of trust is mutual even if the hate is not. Really, the most important reason should be the fact that Steph hates his guts, except–

“And I know he means well, but he’s just so…overbearing sometimes, y’know?”

Jason slaps another pancake down on her plate. “Tell me ‘bout it.”

They’re a farce, the two of them. Eating pancakes at midnight on the only clean kitchen counter (the other is littered with disassembled guns) while Jason is half-dressed in military-grade gear. Steph, meanwhile, speaks with her mouth stuffed full. Maple syrup drips onto her fluffy white crop top (Jason didn’t know they made fluffy crop tops), and she brushes crumbs off her purple sweatpants. 

It feels like a joke. The remorseless murderer, glowering at his mixing bowl and the teenage vigilante, resembling nothing so much as a chipmunk. (It feels a bit like having a family again).

“Like, it’s like he’s showing off how many friends he has,” Steph continues, oblivious to Jason’s inner monologue. “Which I know he’s not, but seriously. He’s been doing this so much longer than any of us, and then he gets so excited by someone new and tries to introduce them to everyone and it’s like–he’s friends with Starfire, and all the original Titans, and half the Justice League and half of Gotham’s Rogue gallery, and goddamn Superman. And he has B wrapped around his little finger and doesn’t even know it!”

Jason’s pancake suddenly tastes bland and weirdly mushy. “Yeah. Sucks ass but kinda funny.”

Somehow Jason’s attempts to look after Steph on patrol, to make sure she isn’t too injured, turned into this. Steph bursts into one of his apartments of safehouses at random hours of the day, raids his pantry, and complains a mile a minutes about anyone and everything.

“You gonna answers his calls?” Steph side-eyes him. “I know he keeps getting your number somehow and you know he really misses you.”

Which is not to say that all Steph does is complain and talk about herself. She’s all too happy to prod Jason about his (nonexistent) personal life.

“No,” Jason answers shortly, and throws another pancake on her plate. “Eat or get out.”

Steph shrugs and attacks her new pancake with gusto. She doesn’t push or pry, unlike some people Jason could mention, though she always asks. A Bat who is capable of just letting it go. Jason thought he’d never see the day.

If Jason were an “asks question” type of person instead of a “bottle everything up until you choke on it” kind of person, maybe he’d ask about her father. About what really happened with Black Mask, not just what news reports speculate. (Ask how she can stand to love the Bats when they’ve failed her so terribly, when her abuser draws breath, when her murderer walks free, when the Bats sleep easily knowing both of those facts and have no intention of changing either fact even though they claim to l–)

Jason isn’t an “asks question” type of person.

“Hey, can I bring Tim next time?” Steph asks, just shy of casual. “He’d–”

The wooden mixing spoon cracks in Jason’s hand. “Unless you wanna get him a couple’a broken bones,” he says evenly, “I’d suggest keepin’ that little parasite far away from me.”

Steph scowls, suddenly remembering that she doesn’t like Jason. “I don’t get why you hate him.”

Why wouldn’t he. The Replacement represents everything Jason loathes. It’s almost too perfect, how hateable he is.

“I don’t get how you dated him,” Jason retorts, which is maybe a little beneath him. Whatever. 

“Oh, we are not talking about my dating history,” Steph hisses. She shoves her stool back as she stands, fork clattering to the counter. “Bros before hoes. You’re the hoe. Tim’s my bro.” 

Jason is trying to decide whether or not to take offense while she produces a takeout box out of nowhere. For her next trick, she disappears all the remaining pancakes on her plate into the box, seals it smartly, and disappears the box. 

“Thanks for the food. Asshole.” Steph scowls, upset at her own manners and upset at Jason for not simpering for the little leech who wormed himself into Jason’s f–the group of people Jason would’ve once called family. 

Jason is no expert, but when someone makes pancakes for you at midnight, it’s an act of love. Or something. He could never say it out loud, but Steph gets it. She knows what going on here, beneath Jason’s harsh words (and threats, and firearms, and–you get the point). 

It almost feels like having a little sister, or a weird little cousin. Steph isn’t remotely scared of him. She inexplicably wants to spend time with Jason, as rough and unpleasant as he is. Jason doesn’t believe for one second that the other Bats don’t know about her visits, so somehow, they’re fine with it too. The only thing chasing Steph away and flaring Jason’s temper, is, once again, the fucking Replacement.

The next Bat to successfully land a standing invitation to Jason’s (nonexistent) dinner table is also one of the first. Barbara Gordon rolls up to his doorstep one night, armed only with whatever rocket launchers she has installed in her wheelchair (which probably doesn’t sound like “only” to anyone but Jason). The arched frown she levels at him from over her glasses is so familiar, so lovingly judgemental, that Jason tears up a little.

He slams his front door closed and starts dumping his gear, back to Barbara, so he can hide his face until the wetness around his eyes goes away. When he turns around, Barbara is a little closer and a little further to his left, by the kitchen counter stools.

“Hey Babs,” says Jason, at a loss for what else to do. “What the fuck happen’a you?”

“Nice to see you too, Jason,” Barbara replies dryly. “Or should I say long time no see. Since it’s been years.”

Jason meanders toward the kitchen counter, noting a few new visible scars on Barbara’s face and arms. When she leverages herself out of her wheelchair and into one of the kitchen chairs, he realizes just how much taller than her he is now. In his last vivid memory of her, he looks up to her free-flowing red hair, her smirk. Now he cants his chin, staring her down as she laces her fingers together and raises an extremely judgemental eyebrow.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were alive,” Barbara demands. 

Jason shrugs. “Well, I wasn’t. ‘N’ then I was and you didn’t care, so.”

Barbara scowls, an action so perfectly familiar that Jason tears up again. What is up with him tonight? Just seeing someone that he knew years ago is enough to make him lose it. Jason busies himself with the cupboards, once again hiding his face from her.

“That’s not even remotely funny, Jason.” 

Somewhere underneath the lecturing is genuine hurt. Shame she can’t admit to it, maybe then their conversation would be easier to swallow. (Shame Jason can’t, either).

“How would you feel if you grieved someone you cared about only to find out years later that they were alive and never bothered to tell you? I don’t think I’ve seen Dick smile once since w–”

Jason slams a half-drunk can of soda down on the counter. He’d meant to find something better in the fridge, but right now he can’t even remember taking anything from it. 

“‘Course this is about fucking Dick.” Jason loses sight of Barbara’s scowl as his vision swims in radioactive green. “You never gave a damn ab–”

“Just because I love him doesn’t mean I don’t care about you!” 

Barbara’s interruption is the sort of truth that couldn’t be tortured out of Jason. Despite everything, he smiles. Just a quick tug at the right corner of his mouth, but a smile nonetheless.

“You tell him that?”

“Shut up.” At least Barbara sounds exasperated, not mad. “His ego’s big enough as it is. Don’t try and change the subject. I don’t get what sort of game you’re playing, letting Steph stay over while running Dick and Bruce and ragged, and avoiding me and Alfred, and threatening Ti–”

Just half-mentioning the Replacement’s name floods Jason’s head with violent green rage. The can of soda crumples in his hands. Whatever soda was left spurts onto the marble countertop, fizzing sadly. 

“How can you even pretend to care,” Jason challenges, “when the Joker is still alive?”

When Jason’s vision clears fully, Barbara is watching him knowingly from across the counter, over the plastic frame of her glasses. It’s almost pitying, but Jason knows her just a little too well to believe that. 

“Why do you think,” Barbara asks, “I haven’t killed the Joker? For what he did to me. It wasn’t even about me. It was all about getting to Bruce.”

For the first time since Jason came back to Gotham, he falters. There’s so many right answers to that question, but none of them feel like Barbara’s answer. Life-changing injuries, for vigilantes, strip away their identity, their sense of worth. How do you remake yourself in the aftermath? How did Barbara do it without ever seeking revenge? Jason genuinely has no idea.

“You didn’t die,” Jason answers gruffly, feeling every ounce of asshole he is.

“There were times I wish he’d killed me,” Barbara counters calmly. 

Biting, helpless fear that Jason has not known since he saw his mom’s last needle billows in his lungs. Not Barbara Gordon. Never. She means too much to too many people. She’s survived too much to just give up.

“Fuck that.” Jason grabs two cans of soda from the fridge and slides one over the counter to her. “Don’t let that sack of shit win.”

Barbara cracks open her can, then lifts it to hide a tired smile. “You know that’d be what Bruce killing the Joker would do. Letting him win.”

“Fuck that.” Jason places both palms flat on the counter so he won’t spill this soda. He breathes deeply as the green surges. “They’re not fuckin’ comparable. What Joker’s done and just killing the Joker are not the same. That’s not sinkin’ to his level or whatever bullshit, that’s doing this damn city a favor.”

“Let me ask you a question.” Barbara rubs one hand underneath her glasses, scrubbing a loose eyelash off her face. “I’ll probably never fight again. There’ll be experimental technology holding together my spine for the rest of my life. Do you think he should kill the Joker for that?”

“I’d kill him for you,” Jason answers unthinkingly.

(The thought, if Jason had taken the time to think it, is this: Jason can never say I care about you out loud. Todd men love expressing love through acts of violence. Wayne men love unflinching righteousness and devastating justice. Jason is a little too much of both). It’s the truth, though. There aren’t many people he wouldn’t kill if they’d hurt someone he cares about and if said person would appreciate it. He has a short mental list of people to kill for Dick if he ever thinks it would make Dick feel safer and wouldn't make him feel guilty. He’ll kill all of them before returning a single one of Dick’s calls. 

“So. Yes.” Barbara taps a finger against her soda can. “So he should die for causing someone Bruce cares about severe injuries. Then he should kill his old friend Harvey Dent, for what he did to Dick. And Black Mask, for what he did to Steph.” Her gaze drops to the red bat defiantly splayed across Jason’s chest. “The Joker, for you. And then he’d kill you, for what you’re planning to do to Tim. And then himself, for killing you.”

He’d kill you for the Replacement. 

Time stands still in that little apartment. Gunpowder, Febreze and sticky sweetness emanates from the sweat-slick surfaces. Jason struggles to breathe, but for once, he doesn’t see green. For the first time, he regrets telling them his ruined plan to teach the Replacement a lesson. It made them change the security of Titan’s Tower, for starters. And it makes him sound like a monster. 

“It goes nowhere.” Barbara spreads her hands. “It never ends. Please, Jason. Stop hurting yourself. Stop hurting all of us.”

You know he really misses you.

Please, Little Wing. Come home.

Please, Jason. Stop hurting yourself.

Finally, Jason raises his soda can. “To not letting that sack of shit win.”

“To not letting that sack of shit win.” Barbara quirks a crooked smile and raises her own soda in reply.

They throw back their heads and start chugging in unison. Barbara immediately doubles forward, coughing and choking on soda. She slams the can down on the counter and wipes her mouth clean with the back of her free hand.

“Where’d you find this, the League of Assassins? This tastes like ass.”

“Fuck you! It’s a delicacy!”

So maybe Jason can accept his fate as the “I’d kill for you” member of a “live for me” family. It’s more bearable than the alternative: being alone while they worry over him from afar. He’ll even put his plans for the Replacement on indefinite hold.

Steph continues crashing his midnight angst sessions. Barbara adds him to the system she has set up and makes him swear to call for backup if he needs it. (He agrees, but need is a strong word). Jason doesn’t apologize for not telling them he was alive–he doesn’t know how–but he makes up for it by visiting Dick out in Blüdhaven. He even agrees to meet with Alfred in a popular cafe and returns with his head ringing and an armful of teas and snacks.

Best of all is the (unintentional) chokehold he has on Bruce. All he has to do his bat his eyelashes and say something wistful about never graduating high school and Bruce is falling over himself to make him fake identities. The others are all too willing to keep Bruce out of his business. It’s the perfect set up. Jason never would have guessed, when he first came back, that there was family–new family–waiting for him in Gotham. But between the comforting steadiness of Barbara, her willingness to ream him out, his begrudging fondness for his new hellion little sister, and his tumultuous relationship with a brother he loves, Jason thinks he just might stay. 

Sometimes Jason even thinks he might forgive Bruce for not killing the Joker. Maybe not soon, and not for many other flaws that Bruce has yet to sort out, but maybe. All his recent musing on Willis Todd and whether that man ever loved anyone has forced Jason to reconsider his stance on love as violence that he didn’t even know he had. 

Maybe he and this crazy family idea will be alright. Maybe he’ll forgive his dad. Forgiveness or lack thereof aside, they’ll always be some kind of father and son, for better or worse. 

But the one person who Jason will absolutely not forgive is the Replacement. 

Jason still has to deal with the Replacement occasionally. By ‘deal’ he means, of course, that he went to the Replacement’s ugly-ass manor house just to mess with him. Being on good-ish terms with Dick, Steph and Barbara doesn’t mean Jason can’t have some fun. He won’t go through with something like Titans’ Tower, not anymore, but he still can’t stand that arrogant, selfish, entitled little rich brat that wriggled his way into Jason’s family, alright? So he’s going to see for himself just how self-deluded that jumped-up Replacement of his is, sue him. 

No matter how entitled, the Replacement still has school. He goes to Gotham Academy, the school Jason died attending, and he’s in the grade Jason never got to finish. It’s not until about 4 pm that the Replacement actually gets home, so Jason shows up at 6 pm, expecting to find the Drakes having dinner. Instead, the parents are absent, and the Replacement is eating takeout in one of the many living rooms, while in the middle of a game of cards.

“Ooh! Burn a card! Burn a card!” The Replacement taunts his opponent, a girl Jason just barely recognizes as Bruce’s newest adopted kid. 

The girl–Cassandra, Jason thinks, though he hasn’t learned what her traumatic backstory is yet–scowls and slides a card from the bottom of her hand to the bottom of the pile on the rug.

“Your turn,” the Replacement adds.

Cass plays her top card without looking–an eight of spades–and Tim places a ten of diamonds. Then the game accelerates to a pace Jason struggles to understand. There’s a lot of slapping involved. Mostly it looks like they’re just playing cards one after another, until Cass slams her hand down on top of the pile.

“Wait, what?” The Replacement pushes her hand away and checks the top cards. A three of hearts and a three of spades. “Damn, you’re right. Double.”

This time Cass smirks as she scoops up the whole pile. Jason should probably stop spying from the doorway now. He only came to harrass the Replacement a little, not meet Bruce’s new kid. But then she turns her head and stares directly at him, so Jason shrugs mentally and saunters into the living room. He dumps his gun (one of them) on a comfy looking armchair as a sign of peace. 

“So. Bruce’s new kid, huh?”

Cass nods once.

Jason plonks himself down on the coffee table. Legs sprawled, his shoe almost touches their playing cards. He ignores the Replacement staring at him in something akin to awe. It’s in turns enraging, confusing and uncomfortable. 

“Lemme guess. Dad was an ax murderer, Mom died when you were young?” When Cass just stares at Jason blankly, the faintest hint of embarrassment creeps up on him. He tries again. “How’d you end up with this band of lunatics?”

Cass shrugs. She looks at the Replacement.

“Her bio dad is David Cain,” the Replacement explains, having the audacity to look something akin to sternly at Jason. “Her bio mom is Lady Shiva and she gave her away at birth, but after she escaped Cain–”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jason snaps, through the roaring green the Replacement’s stern look conjures. “What are you, her social worker? She can tell her own story.”

“Right,” says the Replacement, looking satisfyingly ashamed. “Yeah, of course.”

After a beat of silence, with both boys staring at her, Cass raises her hands. It takes Jason a beat too long to realize she’s explaining her story in ASL. Though explaining is a strong word. She makes the sign that Barbara came up with all those years ago, a combination of the sign for bird and the sign for bat, to mean broadly the Gotham vigilantes. Batman, Robin, all the bats and birds who call Gotham home and each other family. Then she makes the sign for good. 

Bats good, Cass says. Then she gives Jason this dead-eyed stare that feels like it’s poking around his soul and seeing all his cringe-fail moments, and asks: Why are you so–? But Jason doesn’t recognize the actual adjective. 

“She’s asking why you’re so angry,” the Replacement supplies, since he apparently knows more ASL than Jason does. A fact that Jason definitely does not care about at all. 

“I’m not angry,” Jason says, you know, like a liar.