#hope the emotions came across - i feel like i have a tendency to just go cold and clinical when emotions happen

[hailsatanacab]

For the prompt ask game!

9. Sleep deprivation and/or 37. Secret Relationship and/or 40. Identity reveal/major secret reveal

(I selected a few so you can chose the one that resonates the most.)

For any DPxDC characters. <3

*emerges from a google docs, covered in blood and panting* i did it... it is done.

thank you for the prompt!! because i love a challenge, or because i can't stop myself, i went and did all of them!! for everyone!! everyone is sleep deprived and everyone is revealing secrets ^^'

Danny/Tim, mentioned Jazz/Jason

(๑•́ ₃ •̀๑) enjoy!! prompt ask game

kid napping

“Red Robin, sound off. Status?”

“All good here, Oracle. Everything okay?”

It’s been a slow night, never a good sign. Pent up energy itches under his skin and he stretches when he stands, preparing for whatever Oracle is going to throw his way. It’s going to be something, he can tell.

“Good.” Relief briefly colours her voice answers, before she becomes serious again, keys clacking away in the background. “There’s been a report from Agent A. It appears that one Timothy Drake has been kidnapped and is being ransomed for five million dollars and a helicopter. I’m tracing the call now.”

“A helicopter, too? Kidnappers these days, used to be they just wanted their money and that would be the end of it… a fucking helicopter, wow.” Red Hood scoffs, and Red Robin can’t help but join in the laughter over the comms.

“Doesn’t exactly sound like these are the brightest tools in the shed now, does it, Hood? Wonder what poor schmuck they’ve got instead.” Nightwing says, slightly out of breath. 

The smile slips off Red Robin’s face and clammy, cold dread shivers down his spine. A stone settles in his stomach. He wets his lips and clears his throat. “Oracle, can you pull up the CCTV on my apartment near WE? Any closer to tracing the call?”

“Still on the trace, they’re using a jammer. Agent A is cooperating so they should phone back soon, which will help.” she reports, falling into silence as he finds the video feed.

“You know who it is?”

“I hope not.”

It’s tense, he taps his feet on the rooftop, fingers tightening over his grapple as he fights the urge to fly off the roof and check for himself. It better not be him. Please, dear God, don’t let it not be him.

“What are you thinking, Red Robin?” Batman growls through the comms. Red Robin can hear the wind under his words, whipping fast as he no doubt makes his way over to his position.

“I had a, uh, a friend coming over tonight. From behind, he… he could be mistaken for Tim Drake.”

The jokes fall silent, the comms growing serious as they pick up on his tone.

“Well, fuck.” 

“Eloquent as always, Hood.”

“Shut up, bat-brat.”

“You were right, Red Robin, it looks like it was your… friend they caught, instead. About two hours before the call came in. I’m following their van now, I should have the destination soon. In the meantime, it looks like they’re heading towards the docks.”

Red Robin throws himself off the building, shooting his grapple as low as he dares to get the fastest swing he can. 

They have Danny. 

Worry gnaws at his gut even as gravity pulls it into his throat with another swing.

Danny is… And Red Robin means this in the nicest way possible, but Danny is fragile. They haven’t talked about it, but RR knows that Danny has health problems. Something plaguing him since he was young, that’s landed him in the hospital more than once. A weak heart, far too slow to be normal, possibly chronic fatigue—he’s always so tired, falling asleep anywhere he can.

Sometimes, he doesn’t even need to put his head down. Once, when they had gone to the corner store to get some popcorn to enjoy their movie (which Danny had explicitly and repeatedly promised he wouldn’t snore through this time), Danny had rested his head on Tim’s shoulder while they were waiting and he’d just… gone. On his feet, asleep, just like that.

He’d laughed, when Tim woke him up. Apologised. Said Tim made him feel safe enough to fall asleep just about anywhere and—

Red Robin grits his teeth and corrects his course as Oracle updates them with more precise coordinates.

Tim had carried him home that night, piggy-back for four blocks, but by the end of it, he wasn’t tired at all. And that’s another thing, Danny’s just so light. It’s concerning.

They never did watch that movie, but it’s a night that Tim can’t help remembering fondly all the same. They’d ended up rewatching some old sitcom that Danny’s seen countless times but Tim’s never really bothered with, Danny drifting off to sleep again and Tim eventually following him, because… sleep is easy with Danny.

It’s the same for him, he thinks. He can’t explain it, but he feels safe enough to sleep with Danny, too.

He needs to be alright.

“So… Is this friend just a friend? Or a friend friend?” 

“A friend, Nightwing. Now hurry up.”

He’s not in the mood to play these games, not now. There’s a reason why none of them know about Danny, and this is one of them. His family, as much as he loves them, are just too damn nosey for their own good.

“You know that doesn’t answer my question at all.”

“Then why don’t you ask something intelligible, rather than continue with your childish antics?” Robin snarks, and for once, Red Robin has to agree with him. Or, rather, he’s grateful for the distraction that it gives him.

Tim has secrets. He’s sure that Danny does, too, and so far—aside from the standard background check he always runs on new friends and friend friends alike—he’s done very well to respect them. He just can’t say that his family would do the same.

They can be overwhelming, to say the least, and Tim has tried his best to protect Danny from that.

Only to fail to protect him in every other way that it counts.

“How long have you guys been ‘friends’?”

“Nightwing, save it, please.”

“What’s his name?”

He ignores him.

Red Robin lands on the building first, thank goodness. He wastes no time in finding a skylight that can be pried open fairly quietly, slipping inside without a second thought.

“Wait for backup, Red Robin, that is an order!” Batman says, when he lets them know he’s in.

“Negative, Batman. I’m getting him back.”

“Red Robin!”

He weaves silently through the desks on the second floor of the warehouse, always moving, always keeping a trained eye on the shadows around him.

When he reaches the stairs, he hears voices.

“Looks like three of them, armed. The-the hostage is tied to a chair in the middle of the room, he…” Red Robin takes a steadying breath. The person has a burlap sack over their head is slumped to the side, from where he is, Red Robin can’t see if his chest is moving. There’s blood on the floor. “He needs medical assistance. Another two on the northside entrance.”

The comms explode in admonitions, everyone pleading with him to stay where he is, to wait for help, but fuck that. With a tap, he switches them off and he can finally, just about make out the words of the kidnappers as he creeps down the first few steps.

“—shouldn’t he have woken up by now?”

“I don’t know, man, you’re the one that hit him! Do you think he’s—”

“No! I didn’t even hit him that hard, I swear!” the man cries, holding his hands up in surrender. “I just couldn’t take any more of his stupid jokes!”

If there was any doubt in Red Robin’s mind that they picked up Danny by mistake, it’s gone now. Yeah. If you get Danny, you get his stupid jokes, too.

He creeps closer. 

There’s some storage crates between him and Danny, if he can get behind there without being seen then that leaves him in a good position for when whoever’s next in takes out the guys at the front. He can’t do anything without them gone first, not without risking them taking shots inside and endangering Danny.

The man that hit Danny circles round behind him and grabs at his hands.

“What are you even doing, Pat? Who gives a shit, leave him alone.”

“I’m just checking! I just gotta see!”

“Fuck’s sake, guys, who cares? We just gotta get our money, that’s it—”

“And our helicopter!”

“And our—”

“Shit, I can’t find a pulse! Shit, Frank, I killed him, I—”

Jason told him once that when the Pits overtook him, he used to see green. Instead of blacking out, he’d be swimming in that putrid Lazarus colour and he’d slip into that rage and bad things would happen.

He’s heard of people seeing red, too, but really, he thinks that’s more of a literary device.

Tim doesn’t see anything aside from his targets.

A barrage of birdarangs take the guns from the guys at the front, the three around Danny startling badly enough that the guy that kil—that’s behind Danny—stumbles, losing his footing.

Only one of them shoots.

Amateurs. 

There’s a round of curses on the comms as the shots come through. Oracle must have turned them back on.

“Fucking hell—Nightwing and I are at the front, Red Robin, don’t worry about them.”

Red Robin’s barely listening.

He spins, kicking the largest guy in the stomach hard enough so that he doubles over, wheezing. Following through the movement, another kick lands on the side of his head and he’s down. 

The second one, Frank, gets his wits about him and raises his gun, spraying wildly. He’s a shit shot, going wide in panic, and Red Robin simply ducks and rushes forward, keeping low. Tackling the guy, he grabs the gun off of him and uses it to smash him across the face, once, twice, three times, before he stops moving.

“Oracle, get police and paramedics on scene, now.” Batman says, the displeasure in his voice evident. “Red Robin, Robin and I are coming in from the top.”

Pat hasn’t even made it up off the floor yet, scrambling backwards, fear plain on his face. 

Red Robin stands, breathing heavily, gun still in hand.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to do it! Please—please, don’t, please!”

Red Robin doesn’t kill.

Well, no, Red Robin doesn’t normally kill.

No, that’s not quite right, either.

Red Robin has killed. Red Robin will more than likely kill again. Red Robin sees no problem with killing.

The gun is up, pointing towards the guy without any real thought about it.

Footsteps rush behind him, the familiar heavy footfalls of Batman and Robin, so he doesn’t bother turning around. The gun follows the guy as he keeps pulling himself backwards, snot and tears mingling down his face.

“Red Robin,” Batman says, softly.

It’s always weird hearing Batman’s voice like that. It’s not the first time, obviously—Batman can’t use his scary intimidating voice on victims or children, after all—but having it used on him is weird. 

“Breathe.”

“He’s dead. They killed him.”

If hearing Batman’s voice was weird, Red Robin can’t even recognise his own.

Distantly, he realises he’s dissociating. There’s a tightness in his chest, it’s hard to breathe, a growing buzz drowns out any noise in his ears and he can’t think, he can’t—

A heavy hand squeezes his shoulder, jolting him out of his thoughts. Batman reaches around and gently removes the gun from his grip, and Tim feels the instant loss of it. He should have done it, why hadn’t he done it?

Robin takes care of the last man, his crying cut off by a swift kick to the head. Nightwing and Red Hood join them, zip-tying the men on the floor and starting to drag them back to the entrance of the warehouse one by one.

No one says a word.

Shrugging off Batman’s hand, Tim moves towards the chair.

Shaking, he takes a deep breath and removes the sack. The small part of him that was left hoping it wasn’t him, it couldn’t be him, please dear God let it not be him, shatters.

Even dead, he looks peaceful.

Tim’s seen death. He’s no stranger to it, he’s seen what it can do to a person. There’s some blood coagulating over his eyebrows, but otherwise, he looks peaceful. Is that comforting? That he didn’t suffer?

Danny’s head lolls to the side as the sack comes completely away, his hair flopping over his eyes. Tim’s been on at him to get a haircut lately, he thinks it’ll be nice tidied up a bit, just on the sides. It’ll get rid of that permanent bedhead. Help him with job interviews, he’s got to be thinking about that now that he’s in his last year of college.

It’s about the only thing that’ll hold him back, Tim thinks. Danny’s brilliant. Any employer would be a fool to turn him down because of his shaggy hair, but employers are stupid so it makes sense to put your best foot forward and—

Tim falls to his knees.

Fuck.

He’s dead, he’s really—Danny’s skin is horribly pale, cold to the touch. Gone is his bright, cheerful smile. 

“Danny, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, I—” 

He stops himself with a deep, shuddering breath. He can’t break down here, he can’t, he can’t, he can’t.

Instead, he tips forward to rest his head in Danny’s lap, arms curling around himself. They were too late. They got here as fast as they could and they were too late.

 “Danny, I’m so sorry…” he whispers. “I… I love you, I love you, I’m sorry.”

Dimly, he can feel the others standing around them. Someone crouches down beside him, resting a comforting arm over his back, but he doesn’t turn his head to see who it is. He squeezes his grip on Danny’s legs tighter.

“Come on, baby bird. Let’s—”

They’re interrupted by a huge, honking snore as Danny jerks himself awake.

Tim’s head snaps up, staring at Danny with wide eyes.

“You were asleep?” Red Robin springs up, several different emotions rapidly flip flopping through him.

“Wha… What?” Danny heaves a yawn, blinking blearily down at him. “Sorry, I’m just… they were shit kidnappers, man, really boring. Honestly, worst abduction yet.”

“You were asleep? I thought you were dead!”

“Not mutually exlusive, you know.” Danny says through another yawn. He rolls his neck around with an almighty crack and glances at everyone. “Didn’t think I’d warrant the whole Bat brigade, though…”

“The kidnappers thought they had Tim Drake.” Batman supplies, while Red Robin tries to work through the emotional whiplash.

“Ah, makes sense… wait.” Danny sits up suddenly, squinting at Red Robin. “Did you say you loved me?”

“No, of course not, why would I—”

“Tim? Is that—are you—are you Red Robin?”

“Everyone, hold the fuck up!” Red Hood shouts from the other side of the warehouse, having finished securing the perps to a streetlight outside. “Double R is dating Danny fucking Nightingale?”

Well, there goes his identity… Oh, who’s he kidding, Danny’s smart. There’s no way he could have salvaged that. This was not how he thought the night was going to go.

“Cranberry, is that you?” Danny twists in his chair, somehow delighted to see Red Hood rescuing him, too. “I thought I smelled you lurking about!”

“Shut it, you little shit. Since when were you dating this dweeb?”

“I’m sorry,” Red Robin pleads, hands in the air to try and slow down the onslaught of information and insults, “you two know each other?”

“Cranberry?” Nightwing echoes, looking as lost as Red Robin feels.

“Yeah, Cranberry—The Cranberries—zombie, zombie, zombie-ie-ie. Obviously. Also he’s wearing a big, fuck off red helmet.”

“Yeah, sure, makes sense.”

It’s about the only thing that does.

“And please don’t call my boyfriend a dweeb, Cranberry. Especially when he just said he loves me for the first time.”

“He only said it because he thought you were dead.”

“I am dead, so it counts.”

“Only half, so I’d say that puts you at a solid ‘like’. Tim’s—and savour this, Tim, because I’m only going to say it once—Tim’s intelligent, so I’m sure he’ll come to his senses soon.”

Danny just throws Red Hood such a shit-eating grin. A level of feral that Tim’s only seen before in Damian. 

“That’s what I used to say about Jazz, too.”

Hood scoffs in offence, and to be honest, Tim’s not sure where he should go from here. What the hell is happening, how do they know each other?

“Come on, is anyone going to untie me or am I really meeting your family mafia-style?”

“Do it yourself, Slimer.” Red Hood laughs, crossing his arms.

“Ugh, you suck so much. I’ll fucking slime you, just you wait. Can’t believe Jazz even likes you, I preferred it when she was dating Johnny.”

And then, without Danny doing anything other than muttering obscenities at Red Hood, the ropes fall to the ground. In one swift motion, Danny stands up and stretches himself to his full height of 5’6.

“All of you need to explain, now.” commands Batman, and honestly, Red Robin’s very much on his side of it.

“I can’t believe it… Jason and Timmy are both in secret relationships? That’s… How come no one told me?” Poor Nightwing sounds the most shocked out of all of them. He turns to Damian and clasps onto both of his shoulders. “You’re not secretly dating, are you, D? Please tell me you’re not, please tell me you’re single, please?”

Of course, Robin just clicks his tongue and pushes his hands away. Really, Red Robin doesn’t think that Nightwing’s in any danger of that happening, he’d be surprised if anyone could stand Robin enough to actually date him.

He shakes his head and turns to Danny, who’s staring right back at him, worry clear on his face.

Fuck, he... He's alive. He's really alive.

Tim pulls him into a bone-crushing hug, fingers buried deep in his NASA shirt. Tucking his face into the crook of Danny's shoulder, he laughs wetly with the joy of it. He's alive. He hasn't lost him. He's safe.

“I’m sorry I haven’t told you before now, starshine, but…” Danny breaks the hug and softly pulls away from him to rise on his tiptoes to place a kiss his cheek. The skin burns cold where his lips touch. “I love you, too. Also, you’re gonna wanna sit down. This is going to be a lot.”

[dsireland86]

I Fucked Up

Had a quick idea about the picture above. I've seen this photo so many times, and it always leaves a sad impression on me. Hopefully now it won't. ☺️

Tags: @foliosgirl @xxkittenkissesxx @thefallennightmare @lma1986 @philomenie @concreteemo @reyadawn

It was just a fight, right? You'd be back once the dust settled, and you had cooled down some. You always did.

Folio stood there in the glow of the red exit light, eyes still glued to the door after it had slammed shut moments ago. You walked out, finally finished with the lame ass justifications and excuses he'd been giving you since last night. It was just a party, you told her. It was just a fan. There were no feelings attached at all, but that only seemed to make the situation worse. She said she saw enough, heard enough, and now.... finally felt enough.

It's not like he slept with the girl. Didn't even come close to it. It's just that between the weed, the alcohol, and the mood, Folio allowed the girl, who'd been overly friendly since she and her friends showed up at the after show party, to do a little more than he expected her to do.

Noah and Jolly always told him he was a little naive when it came to women. But that's why you loved him, why the two of you connected the moment you met. She wasn't like all the other girls, and you weren't like all the other guys.

Folio fucked up. Bad. Panic rose in his chest, and his mouth suddenly went dry. His hands that still held his drum sticks shook with fear over the idea of losing you. What he did last night with that girl as she sat comfortably on his lap; the kissing, the thigh grabbing, the way she ran her hand over the one and only thing that belonged to you, squeezing and massaging it in hopes to achieve the result from him that she wanted, but couldn't... because it wasn't you. Only you knew how to make him cum in your hand.

Folio was losing you. Fast, and he couldn't function properly to figure out what to do next. Tears welled in his eyes at the thought of not having you as his. You were his world, his stability, the love of his life.

Pulling the little black box out of his pocket, Folio wiped the escaped tear away, staring hard at the box as if would tell him what he should do, but he heard only silence. That's when the emotional anger took over. Balling his hand into a tight fist, Folio threw a hard punch at the wall, putting a large dent with a small hole in it. "Fuck!" He looked down at his knuckles already bleeding.

"You know, that's coming out of your paycheck."

Folio turned around to see Matt standing behind him, arms folded across his chest as he leaned against the wall.

"Fuck! I'm sorry, Matt. I shouldn't have done that." Folio apologized, running his good hand through his wet hair to get it out of his eyes.

Matt shrugged, moving away from the wall towards Folio. "Yeah, whatever. The guy running this place is a fucking dick anyway." He grabbed a napkin off the snack table on his way over, taking Folio's hand and applying it to his bloody knuckles.

"I fucked up, Matt. I fucked up so bad. There's no way she'll marry me now if she feels like she can't trust me." Matt could hear the panic and fear in Folio’s voice. Honestly, even he was a little surprised by Nick's behavior last night, but was willing to believe his friend's admission more than she was at this point.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that, Folio. She has a tendency of surprising people. Remember when she first started hanging out with us, and Nicholas accidentally dropped his entire cup of coffee all over her brand new white leggings because of the cat he saw that was about to get hit. Dude, Noah and I thought she was going to freak the hell out, but instead, she took off running with Nicholas after that damn cat. In the end, they were laughing hysterically."

Folio laughed at the memory. It was the same day he asked her out on their first date. He'd walked into the bathroom while she changed, but instead of yelling at him to leave, she told him to stay since he'd already seen her underwear. That's when he kissed her for the first time.

"What about when we went bowling, and Stephen dropped the 11 lb bowling ball on her foot?" Folio wrinkled his nose remembering how bruised her foot got after that. "A few moments of choice words under breath and two shots of spiced rum later, she made sure that Stephen didn't feel bad about it and eventually the two of them were so drunk, they were singing their own karaoke versions of Bad Omens songs." "Holy shit, that was so horrible."

Matt and Folio shared a few moments of a good laugh. Folio found himself a little more hopeful that maybe this could turn out better than he thought. Maybe.

Matt patted Nick on the shoulder and removed the napkin from his knuckles. The bleeding had mostly stopped, but slight bruising was already starting to show.

"That's going to definitely make playing a lot harder." Folio shrugged. "My punishment." Matt raised an eyebrow. "Your ass is grass if it fucks up my front of house." Folio chuckled. "Anyway, Noah’s with her. He took her to the roof of the bus and is just sitting with her." Folio sighed, but the tension returned.

Noah hopped down the ladder, his long legs reaching the ground a lot sooner than Folio’s would have. "What the hell happened to you?" Folio looked down at his knuckles. "The wall and I had a fight," he answered pathetically. Noah scoffed. "Who won?" Folio held up his hand, showing Noah the bruising and partially dried blood. "Apparently, the wall." Noah chuckled.

"She's hurt, man. Her heart," Noah shook his head. "She's really trying to understand what happened and not be upset with you. She loves you more than anything else, and she knows you love her too. That's why none of it makes sense to her." Folio nodded, indicating he understood. "What do I do, Noah? How do I fix this?" Noah took a deep breath, sighing. "If I were you, I'd be completely transparent. Tell her exactly how you feel, whether you think it's important or not. Right now, she's in protective mode. Her guard is up, and it's going to take a lot of talking and understanding to help her get past this. But," and Noah laid his hand on Folio's shoulder, "she's vulnerable and is willing to do whatever it takes to keep you, Nick. You're her world. You mean everything to her. That's why this whole thing hurts her so badly. She just needs to know she's safe." Folio nodded again as Noah patted him on the back.

She looked like a shadow sitting all alone up there in the dark. The soft breeze of the night ripped through her hair, causing some of it to flutter in her face. Folio couldn't see it, but he already knew how beautiful she looked. "Now, that's a view," he said, sitting down next to her in the spot where Noah just was. He looked out into the darkness, at the bright lights of the city that lit up the night like the sun. She didn't respond to him in any way, just continued to sit there in silence. From the lights of the city, Folio could now vaguely see the outline of her face, those same features that he would gaze at often while laying next to her in their bed. Her button nose, her pouty pink lips, her soft cheeks, they made his heart flutter, and he wanted nothing more than to lean over and kiss each one. But Folio knew better. She needed her space.

They sat in silence for some time. Folio placed his hands alongside him, stretching out his legs. The slight breeze brought a chill, and he saw her shiver. "Are you cold?" he asked, not expecting her to answer, but she slowly nodded. His heart began to race. "Do you want my hoodie? I know you," "Yes, please," she said quickly, cutting him off. Folio almost slipped off the bus from shock. Regaining his balance, he quickly removed his hoodie and slipped it over her, hearing a satisfying sigh. "Better?" "Better," she whispered.

Feeling overwhelmed with fear, Folio knew he had to address the situation head-on before it was too late. "I fucked up. I know I did, and I'm sorry. I never, ever meant to hurt you. I never meant to hurt us. I was just caught up in the fucking moment and I, shit, I just wasn't thinking. I'm sorry, baby. I'm so fucking sorry for hurting you, for breaking your trust in me, for making think or feel the wrong things.... fuck, I'm sorry." Folio hung his head, placing both hands on either side of his head. He couldn't hold back the little bit of tears that escaped and dripped onto his black jeans. His shoulders shook from the pain he was feeling inside, knowing that nothing he said or did was going to fix what was broken. It was over, and he knew it.

She sat quietly, listening to Folio pour out his heart to her. His apology after apology hit her heart each time like an arrow, piercing the thin layer of anger and pride that had already begun to grow. She knew, without a doubt, that Nick was sorry for what happened, and if she was being completely honest with herself, she was blowing the whole thing a little bit out of proportion. Folio had managed to stop it before it went too far, even though Noah had to step in and help a little. He never touched the girl inappropriately even though she'd managed to run her grubby paws over the one and only thing that could make her weak as fuck and bring out the porn star side of her. Just the thought of someone else trying to stake a claim on what belonged to her infuriated her. Truth was, she wasn't as mad and upset at Folio anymore now that he'd been honest with her and admitted he'd messed up. She guessed maybe that was the only thing her heart needed; to hear Folio apologize and admit he was wrong.

"Thank you." Folio stilled at her words. "What?" he asked, raising his head and staring at her, confused. "Thank you," she repeated, this time turning her head to look at him. His heart fell to the pit of his stomach at just the sight of her beautiful face. God, he was so fucking lucky. "Thank you? For what?" Folio sniffed, sitting up straight as she climbed into his lap. What the hell was happening? She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, placing her hands on either side of his face. Folio kissed the pads of her thumbs as she ran the back and forth over his lips. "I'm so confused, baby. What are," but his words were cut off by the pressure of her lips against his. The hunger and need Nick felt in just that one kiss was enough to set his world on fire and his nerves ablaze. He fucking wanted her, needed her like the air he breathed. She grinded against him slowly, up and down with her pussy centered right on top of his cock. Whatever was happening, Folio wasn't about to stop it.

"I just have one question, and then we're never talking about it again." The seriousness in her eyes was paralyzing. "Alright. What is it?" Folio asked, swallowing hard. "Would you have fucked her?" "No!" "Why not?" Folio grabbed her hips and pulled her closer into him, loving the slight whimper of a cry he heard in response. "Because she wasn't you, sweetheart, and you're the only one my dick belongs to." His eyes darted between hers, long and hard, until finally she smiled, and after one look at his lips, she kissed him again. Folio allowed her to take full control, using him for whatever she needed him for, because no matter what, he knew she loved him. Her fingers unhurriedly found his belt buckle, and he helped her undo it the second he felt her tug on it. She undid his jeans and pulled them along with his boxers down, lifting his ass up just enough for her to get them to his ankles, where he was able to toss them off.

"Mine," she said, taking Folio’s semi-hard cock into her hands. She wrapped her hand tightly around him and began her magical work of bringing him to the edge of sanity with just the use of her hand. "Oh, my god baby," Folio moaned, leaning back on his hands and throwing his head back, sighing at the feeling. Her fingers pinched his fully hard tip while her thumb spread the pre-cum that seeped from the tiny hole it worked open. This was his Achilles heel. Whether she was using her fingers or her mouth, only she knew it was the quickest and fastest way to make him cum. But that thought was ripped away the moment she removed her hand from him. The sudden loss made him whimper.

Innocently, she stared at him, searching his eyes for something. "What, sweetheart, what are you looking for?" He used a hand to caress the side of her face. She didn't answer, just continued to stare as she pushed her shorts and panties to the side. Holding two fingers up to Folio’s mouth, she told him to spit, to which he willingly obeyed. Using his spit as lubricant, which utterly wrecked Folio, making him wonder how in the fuck he deserved a woman like the one that was about fuck him on the roof of his bands tour bus, she aligned his hard cock against her heated aching pussy and slide herself onto him, biting her bottom lip as he pushed himself in, stretching her like it was first time, again.

"Goddamn, sweetheart, holy fuck!" She never broke eye contact with Folio, even as her pace quickened a little. "Fuck, ughh god baby you feel fucking amazing," he moaned quietly, holding her tightly against him so he could feel every inch of her soaking wet walls. "You're so wet, baby," he panted, already feeling the effects of her tight pussy clenched around his throbbing dick as she continued grinding, nice and slow, on him. "You're hiding something from me. What?" Her question startled him, but it didn't surprise him. Folio knew she could always read him like a book. She stilled with him still buried inside her. "Reach inside the pocket," he told her, eyeing his hoodie she was still wearing. She did as she was told but froze the moment her hand hit the box. "Pull it out." Her gaze was heavily laced with apprehension. "It's okay, just pull it out," Folio encouraged her. She did. The little black box sat perfectly in the palm of her hand.

"Nick," she gulped, her voice trembling. "Open it." Tears filled her eyes, but she bravely opened the box and gasped at the small yet stunning silver diamond ring. "Marry me, please." Folio licked his lips nervously, unable to keep his own tears away. The way she gazed at him made Folio think she was about to say no. She looked from him, to the ring, and then back to Nick. "Okay." Folio swallowed, clenching his jaw. " You will?" He was afraid he didn't hear her right." But she nodded her head. "Yes! I'll marry you, Nick." Without realizing it, Folio released the breath he'd been holding. Taking the small ring from out of the box, he slipped it on the ring finger of her left hand, bringing it to his lips where he kissed it, then placed it against his chest. Without another word, she began moving against him again, this time harder and faster, pulling Folio towards the edge quickly.

"God you fuck me so good baby." Folio whispered the harder she grinded her pussy against him. "That sweet little pussy belongs to this dick, doesn't it?" She nodded quickly. "Holy shit baby, yeah, right there, don't stop. Oh fuck." Folio squeezed his eyes shut, his entire face twisting in a mixture of pleasure and pain as the pressure of release became strong. "Fuck me harder baby girl, you're gonna make me cum!" He clenched her hips tightly, moving her back and forth on him to get her a little deeper. Her lips found his, devouring him as she tasted and the inside of his mouth with her tongue. He pulled her top lip between his and sucked right before pressing his tongue against hers and fighting for dominance. "Fuck yeah baby, right there, shit!" She grabbed his face between her hands and locked him in a deep dark stare. "Cum for me, baby. Cum inside me." Her soft tone and warm whispers was all Folio needed. "Ughh, god- fuck!" Folio bit down on one of his good knuckles, spilling his release inside her and coating her inner walls with his seed. They were both out of breath, panting and hearts racing. She stared at the ring on her finger, unable to stop smiling. "You like it?" Folio asked, finally catching his breath. She looked up at him with a smile. "I love it," she replied, looking back down. Folio could tell she was fighting more tears. " Hey, come here, sweetheart." He pulled her into his chest, wrapping her up tightly with his arms; the place where she always felt the safest. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I hurt you." She looked up at him and smiled. "Thank you. I love you, and I forgive you. It's over now. Let's move on." Folio agreed as she laid back into him, still looking at the ring.

"I owe you," Folio said, catching her as she jumped down off the ladder. She grinned, thinking about what Folio did whenever he owed her. He always made up for it in more ways than one. "You bet your ass you do," softly slapping him in the chest. "I might have a few ideas that I know will please my fiancé." Her face lit up with the word. "Fiancé!" Jolly's voice rang out. Folio held up her left hand to show him. "About fucking time, dude!" Jolly exclaimed, giving Folio a hand slap with a hug. "Happy for you, man." "Thanks, Jolly." Folio focused his eyes on her, smiling at the happiness that graced her face. He never thought his fuck up would've led to this, but it did. And now he was the happiest he'd ever been with the only girl he loved.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Hii!! Can I request something based of a scene from season 3 of obx? So basically JJ and reader have been dating for a while and reader finally tells him that she loves him and he replies with ‘thanks’ because he doesn’t know how to act with being loved and reader feels hurt and leaves him alone. They ignore each other for a couple days but both feel bad and it ends with JJ telling reader that he loves her too ?? Hope this make sense 🥹

Request: Hii! Could I request a jj x fem reader with prompts 6 "don't push me away" and 8 "you can't love me". Basically a lot of angst that leads to fluff with jj not feeling like he deserves you.

I think these requests got sent when season 3 came out...I'm so sorry anons

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Late night cuddles were part of your and JJ’s night routine. It didn’t matter if you were outside in the hammock, the pull-out or in Big John’s old bedroom, he needed those cuddles to fall asleep. 

 Fingers entwined in his tousled hair, you playfully twirled a few strands around your fingers as his head rested on your chest. ‘’How do you fall asleep when I’m not here?’’ you mused softly, curiosity tinging your voice.

JJ's eyelids gently fluttered closed, his face painted with contentment as your touch traced soothing patterns. ‘’I smoke,’’ he explained, a sigh of relaxation accompanying his words as if the mere thought of your touch had already begun to lull him into a serene state. ‘’It takes me out like a light.’’ 

It wasn’t true. Nights at the chateau were fine. Your scent lingered in the sheets and on the pillow — and on the shirt you always used to sleep in. On nights where JJ had to go home — home with his father —, these nights were not so great. JJ would lay in his bed and, depending if his father had too much to drink or not, he would get a few hours of sleep or wipe the blood from wherever his fist had landed.

A comfortable silence fell in the room, joined by the occasional singing of crickets outside the window. You found them annoying at first, but you were used to it by now. It was part of the ‘sleeping over at the chateau’ experience. 

Along with the blinding morning sun. 

‘’We should go to the beach tomorrow, catch some waves.’’

JJ hummed. ‘’My board is still at my dad’s though…’’ 

‘’We could pick it up after he goes to work? He works on Wednesdays, right?’’ 

‘’Yeah,’’ he replied, snuggling deeper into your chest as sleep began to claim him. ‘’Let’s do that.’’ 

‘’JJ?’’ He hummed again. ‘’I love you.’’

You felt him stiffen on your chest as the three words left your lips, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.

‘’Eh...thanks.’’

When JJ fell into a deep sleep, you gently slipped from under him and searched for your pants and shoes. You felt bad for leaving in the middle of the night, but you couldn't wake by his side after he hurt your feelings so deeply. You weren't mad at him for not saying ‘I love you’ back. You understood if he wasn’t ready to say it back, everyone had their own pace, but his response had left a bittersweet taste in your mouth.

It was no news for anyone that JJ was an idiot and he had the tendency of blurting out something dumb when his brain goes into panic, which was probably what happened when you said the three big words. That’s why he always plays clown when things get emotional. 

Guilt filled his guts when he woke up alone in the morning. 

Truth was, JJ didn’t know how to act with being loved. No one ever told him they loved him before. No one ever made him feel like he was worthy of being loved. So he didn’t know how to react to someone telling him they love him…even when the person was the most important in his life. 

A few days later, you were walking down a street when you saw John B. and JJ coming out of the gas station. His blond hair was pushed back under a snapback, just the way you loved. He laughed at something John B. said, then his eyes crossed yours across the street. JJ completely froze. 

Your feet walked before you made the decision and you crossed the street. John B. saw you coming and eclipsed himself, going inside the store to pay for the gas, leaving you and JJ to talk. The latter tried to offer to go instead, but John B. didn’t let him. 

‘’What’s up?’’ 

‘’Really, JJ? We haven’t spoken to each other in five days, that’s all you have to say?’’ 

He looked toward the store and shrugged. 

‘’We have to talk about the other night,’’ you said, bringing up exactly what he didn’t want to talk about.

The words hung in the air for a few seconds until JJ said something. 

‘’I have no idea what you’re talking about. Like you said, it’s been five days since we saw each other.’’ 

You should have known he would play fool, but it won’t get him out of this conversation.

‘’JJ,’’ you said sternly. ‘’I know you hate talking about feelings, but we have—’’ 

‘’You can’t love me,’’ he interrupted, his voice laced with self-doubt, and his eyes filled with disbelief. ‘’I’m just some loser. I don’t deserve you or your love.’’ 

His words hurt like a knife to your heart. 

‘’Don’t say that.’’ You shook your head, reaching for him, but he stepped back. ‘’You’re not a loser, JJ. Whoever said that clearly doesn’t know you. I know you, the real you, and I love you.’’ 

‘’I don’t want you to love me.’’ 

It was at this moment John B. chose to return, forcing your and JJ’s conversation to end. You wanted to glare at the brunet, but your back was to him. Couldn’t he have stayed longer inside the store? 

‘’John B. is back. I’m gonna go.’’ JJ nodded at the twinkie, impatient to get in and drive off. 

You grabbed his arm with pleading eyes. ‘’Don't push me away.’’

‘’We really gotta go.’’ 

‘’JJ!’’

After that encounter, you decided to not go to the chateau for a while. It was more his home than yours, so you didn’t want to be in his space. If he didn’t want to talk to you, fine. No, it wasn’t fine, but what else was there to do? 

Sarah and Kiara were sad to not have you around for cookouts and boat days. They invited you for Pope’s birthday ‘party’, but you saw JJ smiling and having fun in John B.’s backyard and went back home.  

It wasn’t until the annual end of summer bonfire that you saw him again. He was talking with Kiara and Pope, probably telling them some dumb story by the way Kiara was shaking her head in disbelief. Now that you weren’t there, she was the one who had to deal with him. 

A little later into the night, you went to get a refill and bumped into JJ at the kegger. He kindly offered to fill your cup, then asked to talk to you. You followed him down the beach where the waves were crashing on the rocks, the music and voices from the party-ers fading into white noise. 

‘’I want to say I’m sorry. For pushing you away and for being a jerk to you.’’ He kicked his foot in the sand, a fidgeting habit when he’s nervous. ‘’No one ever told me they loved me before and I just— I flipped. You know how I be.’’

You hummed. No one knows him like you do. 

‘’I wasn’t mad because you didn’t say it back.’’

‘’No?’’ JJ raised his eyes to you. 

You shook your head. ‘’I could never be mad at you for that.’’ 

‘’Then why did you leave?’’  

‘’No one says ‘thanks’ after you tell them you love them!’’ 

‘’What was I supposed to say?’’

Truthfully, you didn’t know. 

A more serious expression settled on JJ’s face as he reached for your hand. ‘’I can see how that didn't land right. I’m sorry,’’ he said again. ‘’I'm a fucking idiot for not saying it back.’’

—

OBX taglist: @moralina @eudximoniakr @toylewestinnyc @rottenstyx  @sweeterheartxamerica  @jordierama @viridwityy @izzy-laufeyson @kenzi-woycehoski @lilaconner @Katsukis1Wife  @hawkegfs @mommyruuetrue  @acornacreacure @snownjune @nmedina8611 @slvtherinseeker  @slvtherinseeker @poppet05 @1stevelacyfan @illf4iry @withbeautyandrage  @maybankslover @sunflowerziva @laylasbunbunny @Honey-marvel15 @leoluvsur-pappy @slytherhoes @kcskye123 @outerbanksacc  @pedrosprincess  @mikaelsonsstuff  @skyesthebomb  @a1mzcruml3y @iluurmom  @popeheywardssecretgf  @madelynie  @loverofdrewstarkey  @radiant-whore  @outsider-at-hogwarts @luci1fer @bbycowboi @rafecameronsbadussy @urbfsbitchlol @nomorespahgetti @bloodyhw @Veescorneroftheworld  @papayaboyluvr @slytherinambitious @darylscvmdumpster @tommysaxes @johannelis2302nely @lynbubble  @straberryshortcake143 @beth-gallagher22 @doestalker @rubyliquor @theflcwer @angelxxrose @sierraluvzz @cruzgrecia @evelestrange @sunnysunny133696  @under-seasoned-pasta @hoeforsirius

All and more taglist:  @kenqki  @hawkegfs  @gillybear17   @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade   @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3   @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs  @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634  @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis  @katherinejess  @rafesgirlstuff  @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity

[monkeydluffy19920]

“I’m swimming in the smoke,  Of bridges I have burned,  So don’t apologize, I’m losing what I don’t deserve”

This  project was originally planned as a draft for the SaNami week 2021 (although the prompts were not even revealed yet back then *laughs* but then time came across and this was left to the drafts).  Later I happened to open this unfinished project after a long while and decided it should be done and frankly spoken it was left again to the drafts as a half finished “test” version because I thought it was missing something (like subtitles but my old and crusty editing program was not co-operating :d) but now I decided it’s meant to be like this *laughs*

One of the reasons to pick this certain Linkin Park’s song was because its one of my all time favorites plus these lyrics seem to fit so well especially for the Sanji vs Luffy fight and it’s aftermath. Although the focus is on Sanji, this also became a little mixed version of both SaNami and LuSan (since WCI arc offered a lot for both from shipping’s perspective).

The chorus resonates very well with Sanji’s inner struggle of mixed feelings during the Tea Party he was dragged into. Gladly, this arc offered a huge opportunity for Sanji to have character improvement that he indeed needed.

As seen from the clips, this amv has the focus on the chapters 844 and 851 which are pretty much the turning points of the Totto Land arc plotwise and places for Sanji’s character developments. As fans have pondered before, this ac greatly highlighted Sanji’s tendency of putting everyone else before him. Sanji sincerly believed for a long time that by sacrificing himself he could spare his crew (just like Robin did back in Enies Lobby tried to save Straw Hats by putting her head on the place).

Although it was heartbreaking to see Sanji being betrayed by the one he thought he could rely on this arc (Pudding who was also pretty much tricked into this mess) it really was necessary for him to realize it was all a vicious plan built by Judge Vinsmoke and Big Mom and that Sanji was just a pawn in all that. He also forgot that his captain is the most stubborn one in the whole universe but honestly all Sanji needed in this arc was this wake up call and a kick from a butt from Luffy to remind that he is much more worthy than he thinks.

The “reversed video”-effect  that was is Nobody it was easy (Luffy vs Sanji) amv made a little comeback and also I tried to draw focus some symbolism that Oda-sensei used as well in this arc i.e how the rain turned into a lightning storm and how he struggled to light his cigarette during his deepest moment of frustration (where he would’ve needed comfort the most) and in the end the rain ruins the fire and he realizes he hit the rock bottom and probably really thinks that “doesn’t deserve his nakamas”.

Gladly he did though and although this arc was great, it felt like it could stretch to have even more potential (i.e Oda-sensei could have given Nami and Sanji a proper reconciliation where they could have share their thoughts and explain each other). Shipwise this arc was very interesting from the beginning to the end and like in many reviews and posts, I think Oda-sensei did great work in general.

Not only by making Nami the badass fighter she deserves to be but also he did give Sanji and Nami potential to get their moments and even topped it up first with this dramatic emotional slap and later he made them reconcile by making Nami hug Sanji with teary eyes.

Shipwise Nami and Sanji have had a steady and balanced development throughout the series but the Whole Cake Island arc did give the vibe that although Oda-sensei wants to put the focus on nakamaship and chasing dreams, he does indeed tease fans with canon ship-material.

Anyway, shortly said, here you go, a new video. Hope you like it :)

[thegamingcatmom]

If you had to choose between...

human!momma:

OR

demon!momma:

Which would it be?

tw: kidnapping, emotional manipulation (kinda), general madness

In case you´re worried about any drawbacks when it comes to the extend of madness, worry not. For both are as bonkers (about you) as they come, each in their own unique way.

Had a bad day? Say no more - Momma(s) will be there to cheer you up. Strong arms coming to wrap around you, scooping you up, squeezing just a tad bit too tight and cooing at you oh so sweetly as you whine and lament, because-

"-air!"

...Not her fault you´re such a delicate little thing.

(She wouldn´t have it any other way.)

...What was that?

Some random fool is responsible for putting her sweet girl in such a sour mood?

Well, consider it done.

*Human!Momma sharpening the soon to be murder weapon.*

(And yes, she will be wearing those glasses later, too. Momma wants to witness every little twitch, after all.)

How about something not quite as extreme, though? Some everyday stuff? Something sane? Surely things aren´t gonna escalate this time. Right?

...Right?

Something on your way to that hellhole the apartment spiked your interest, and you mentioned it kinda off-handed. Just trying to make pleasant conversation. Yknow, normal things.

Waking up from a rather refreshing nap, you did not expect to be met with not just one (1) redhead, but two (2) - your roommate wearing a grin rivaling Cheshire's, while the much smaller version, clutched tightly by big hands, trembled like a leaf. The poor thing-

Come to think of it, the kid seemed familiar. And not just because she was the spitting image of your fiery roommate (minus the blood and guts, if we´re dealing with Maggot Momma). You swear you´d seen her before-

...

Watching your companion's face fall as you patiently explained to her why kidnapping someone wasn't exactly in either of your best interests shouldn't have been nearly as gut-wrenching.

"-you can´t just go out there and snatch someone up like they´re a stray cat! Especially not a child!"

Oh...so it´s her fault, now?

"You were the one gushing about my mini-me earlier!", Momma no longer understood the world. This was what you wanted, wasn´t it?? "You looked so happy, imagining what it would be like..."

Strong hands wrapped around your upper arms then, slowly stroking up and down. "Don´t you think this would be absolutely perfect? You were right...look at her, she was meant for us!"

Oh boy. Here we go again.

"What if her parents come looking for her? Someone will notice if she won't show up at school anymore-"

"We're her parents now", said with a most serene look. If you hadn't been living with that exact attitude for well over a year now, you'd have felt chilled to the bone.

"You can´t just-", you stop yourself there, realizing you sounded like a broken record by now. This was not a battle won by logic.

Deep breaths.

Alright-

"...She´s not the one." you concluded, trying your best to look the part. It was something that came rather easy to you by now, as you had been given plenty of opportunities to master your poker face.

Your roommate was looking at you like you were the one who´s lost it.

"But...earlier you said-"

"I lied", you silently applauded yourself for remaining steadfest at the sheer disappointment slowly spreading across your partner´s face.

You didn´t particularly enjoy being the "party pooper", but more often than not, you felt like this was the only thing keeping the redhead´s tendencies somewhat in check. So you took that role very seriously.

"I guess I was just...blinded by this idea of another you, so perfect. How could it not be when you´re so...you?", you couldn´t have sounded more sappy, and you knew it. But that was the point.

It always worked.

So you continue, tears starting to form in your eyes-

"I´m sorry for getting your hopes up...so stupid! I should´ve known better - I was looking for an excuse to justify making her ours, but I knew she wasn´t the one, all along. I could feel it!", you started lightly hitting your head then, turning things up a notch and adding to the dramatics of it all.

And then-

"Oh...honey-"

You had her.

"Stop, stop...stop!", your hands were grasped, preventing you from further doing your head in. Good. That shit started to actually hurt. "Stop hurting yourself...and stop worrying that pretty head of yours. I understand."

"...You do?"

"Mhm..."

You were pulled into a smothering hug, her cheek coming to rest on your head, swaying the two of you slowly from side to side. "I know what it feels like...to be overcome by your thoughts and feelings. Like a deep-rooted instinct, overshadowing everything else. You get this tunnel vision where nothing else matters...nothing except yourself and that moment. I know it because...it´s what I feel every time I look at you."

And, just like that, you were reminded why you put up with all of this in the first place.

You reciprocated the hug just as fiercely, finally allowing yourself to relax, now that the crisis had been averted. Nobody was dying or getting dismembered, the apartment was still standing, you had no authorities nearly kicking your door in, demanding you to-

"LAPD, open this door!"

...

Momma, reconsidering some of her life choices (she´s really not) as you throw her a look that clearly says "Told you so".

...

WELL-

What do you think? Who will be your unhinged partner in crime, now and forever more because you belong together, were meant for each other-

Make your choice.

In fact-

Can´t wait to see those results...

.

.

.

Bonus:

[katieskarlette]

Long time, no ramble

I read The Calling, the new short story about Anduin. It was heart wrenching, emotional and poignant...but I couldn't stop thinking about how much I disliked the plot that sent him on this trajectory.

No matter how well Anduin's PTSD and guilt are handled, I can't forget that they stem from the train wreck of Shadowlands. He should never have been put in this position in the first place.

Just as Anduin was literally yoinked into the sky by the Jailer's minions to start the expansion, he was also yoinked out of his plot arc. He was starting to come into his own as a king, moving beyond his father's shadow bit by bit, finding the balance between his own peace-loving tendencies and the grim necessity of some violence in a world such as Azeroth. There were hints that he was struggling with the balance of Light and Shadow, as well. All of that character development came to a screeching halt when he got kidnapped and turned into Zovaal's puppet.

What made pre-Shadowlands Anduin unique was his stubborn insistence on empathy in a world full of bloodthirsty warmongers. The siege of Undercity at the start of BFA was the perfect microcosm of that: he set down Shalamayne and used the Light to heal/rez his soldiers instead. He was finding ways to lead that were effective but which allowed him to be true to his ideals.

There was nothing wrong with the way Varian led his people (or at least nothing that I want to get into right now), but that doesn't mean his style is the right choice for Anduin. I've always had a soft spot for characters who are like, "Yeah, I know the world is a cruel place. I'm not naïve. But that's all the more reason to spread hope and kindness."

I would have been fine with a plot where Anduin struggles to find a happy medium between "We must strive for peace" and "We need to mercilessly obliterate our enemies to protect innocent lives," and errs too much on the side of violence. He could feel the same remorse and lack of trust in himself as he does in the current canon, feel unworthy of the Light, think back on how Varian atoned for some of his misdeeds, and grow as a person. It would mean more if he was actually making choices and working through the consequences.

As it stands, Anduin is beating himself up over something that isn't his fault, even a little bit. I sympathize with him up to a point, but by the end of the short story I was frustrated and even a little annoyed with his stubborn self-hatred. He's not stupid, and it's not like being controlled by evil forces is a new concept for an Azerothian. He comes across as obtuse when he insists that he's indelibly tainted by what happened to him, when he personally knows people who have been in similar situations and did not become pariahs.

(Yes, I know trauma responses aren't logical. Irrational guilt and survivor's guilt exist. But realism doesn't necessarily translate into a satisfying narrative. And yes, characters need to change and face challenges, but when those challenges were born from atrocious writing it leaves a bad taste in the audience's mouth.)

Is there dramatic irony in the kind, altruistic character not being able to extend the same grace to himself? Of course. But is Blizzard's storytelling capable of that level of nuance? Forgive me for being skeptical. I'm sure he will find himself again and heal through the coming expansions, but, again, I'm not optimistic that it will be handled well.

I'm probably judging the story too harshly because my patience for WoW's story ran out during Shadowlands and I'm still bitter. If they had to try to salvage a halfway decent character arc from the bullshit of that expansion, this is probably the best way to go about it.

The new short story was well-written and tugged at the heartstrings. It just didn't win me back. I didn't expect it to, though. Instead I continue to mourn a franchise that captivated me for many years before its trip to the realm of Death meant the demise of my devotion. :(

Disclaimer: I didn't hate everything about Shadowlands. Sire Denathrius can read off a list of my sins anytime. Aww yeah. The rest can be retconned to oblivion, though. ;)

[jankandjonch]

Reasons for Waiting, Part Two

probably my most requested piece. gather your tissues. read part one before reading this. word count: 2.7k

*

“You said you would wait for me, that was the loudest lie I’ve ever been told.”

“Okay, drama queen, just take your turn already,” Jake rolled his eyes at his older brother. 

“Oh, guess who I ran into today,” Josh spoke slowly as he moved his Monopoly piece across the board, his eyes lulling to stare at Danny. Subtlety has never been in his genes.

“Who’s that?,” Danny spoke around the beer bottle raised to his lips.

“Y/N.”

A splatter of the liquid landed on the corner of Josh’s mouth, making him chuckle as he reached to wipe it. Sam reaching for a napkin to clean up the rest of the beer that had been spat out of Danny’s mouth.

“Like from home? Where the fuck did you see her? Is she here? In town? Where did you see her? What did you- what did she say?”

“I’d love to tell you all of the details, if you’d shut the fuck up, my beloved Daniel,” Josh laughed along with his brothers at the shock the simple confession had put Danny in. “I ran into her at Publix. She said she’s doing great, she’s in town visiting her fiancé. She’s still doing photography. She’s got purple hair. Lots of tattoos. This really cute nose ring,” Josh rambled on, waving his hands about.

Fiancé. Danny’s heart was sitting in his lap. He didn’t hear any of the other words Josh’s mouth was spewing out at him. Staring at his lips as he continued talking, all Daniel could hear was blood rushing in his head and the hammering of his heart. His body moved faster than his mind, scooting his chair back a little too aggressively as it slammed into the wall behind him. His legs carried him out the door, he leaned over the banister of Jake’s back patio, feeling lightheaded and nauseous. 

What the fuck is wrong with me? I haven’t seen her in six years. I haven’t spoken to her in five years. Why do I care? Who the fuck is she engaged to? Did she have an engagement party? Did she think about inviting me? Will I be invited to the wedding? Holy fuck. A wedding. She’s going to get married. It won’t be me.

“Babe? What are you doing out here?,” her voice was shrill and it went ran a shiver down his spine. “Are you alright, what happened?” Her hands felt like flames against his skin, burning straight through his shirt.

“I don’t want to be with you.”

“Excuse me?,” her touch turning icy cold. “Like, you need some air, some space?”

He laughed, tearful and gruff, at how hopeful she sounded.

“No. Like I do not want to date you. It’s over, it’s done. I’m in love with someone else,” his voice was stern, even while it wavered as tears streaked his cheeks.

He let out a breath of relief when she left without another word. He didn’t have the strength to argue right now. A rush of wind blew through, Danny closed his eyes, leaning into it. The breeze drying his tears as the moonlight washed over him. He could picture it so vividly in his mind, your presence next to him. 

------------------------------------------

He’s 18, it’s his last round of golf on the high school team. He’s oddly emotional, feeling stupid as his eyes begin to water. One glance over at the crowd and his eyes find you, your hand waving him toward you, the other reaching into your bag to get his sunglasses out. He jogs over, so grateful for your over packing tendencies. Slides the oversized glasses on, hiding his reddening eyes from the other players. A kiss to the back of your hand, and he’s back on the fairway. 

He’s 16, his dad is behind him in the mirror, teaching him how to tie his tie. Dan is smiling at his son, his little boy is growing up. Junior prom came in the blink of an eye. Danny’s hands were shaking, growing more and more nervous as the minutes ticked by. He was awaiting your arrival with bated breath, knowing you would look the most beautiful in your dress. His heart stopped, his jaw dropped, his stomach hurt. The rose gold gown you wore caught the setting sunlight in the most glorious way. “Aphrodite,” he called you for the entire evening.

He’s 12, feeling what he could only explain as his first ‘real’ heartbreak. The girl he finally worked up the courage to ask to be his girlfriend had told everyone she only said yes as a joke. He hid in the gymnasium, skipping three classes in a row. The door swung open and he dropped between the bleachers, hoping it wasn’t a teacher and if it was, that they hadn’t seen him. “Daniel, come out of there,” his cheeks glowed red when he heard your voice. Lifting himself out of the bleachers, he saw you approaching him with the worried look of a mother on your face. “You can’t run away from all of your problems, you know?” He didn’t need to, just this one. You understood, and held him in your arms while he cried of how embarrassed he was. You skipped the rest of your classes for the day, walking home with him after the final school bell rang. You made sure he had a glass of water by his bed before you left him as he fell into his bed. His mother gave you a hug before you left, whispering in your ear “you will be such a good wife some day.” 

He’s 7, sat huffing on the side walk with two skinned knees. Unsure if he’s crying because he’s angry, or angry because he’s crying. That stupid jerk from the 9th grade had pushed him while he was trying to skateboard, stealing his board and leaving him bloody and humiliated. He didn’t want to walk home, knowing his mom would give him the fifth degree for losing the board she didn’t even want to buy him in the first place. “I thought you were doing a good job before,” you muttered as you plopped yourself down next to him. “You’re better than that idiot, that’s probably why he took your board. So he could practice some more. He’s a loser.” He stared at you in confusion. “I’m Y/N, by the way,” he stared at your hand outstretched to him. “I’m Daniel. You can call me Danny, though.” He shook your hand.

He’s 24, understanding just how big of a mistake he had made with his life.

------------------------------------------

“Did she say where she was staying?,” Danny was panting, out of breath from crying harder as he ran back inside to find Josh again.

“Uh, not specifically. Just said her fiancé lived near the river. I’d guess those apartments by- hey, Dan, wait, don’t-“ Josh couldn’t finish his thought as Danny was sprinting out of the front door, jumping into his car. 

He drove to the river, looking at GPS on his phone, seeing all of the apartment buildings in the area, all of the houses and condos, he felt his shoulders deflate with defeat and his eyes fill with tears once again.

A knock on his window startled him, his head springing up to look at the passenger side of his car. 

“Daniel?”

“Holy fuck.”

“Hi, Daniel,” you laughed, mostly in disbelief as he scrambled out of his car.

“I missed you so fucking much,” he crushed you against his chest, fingers not able to sit still — squeezing into your sides, tangling into your hair, grasping at the back of your sweatshirt, like he thought you’d vanish if he let you break away from him.

“Yeah, I missed you too, Dan,” you did, that was true. The bitterness that you sat with for a while had vanished long ago. “It’s been so crazy to watch your career. I am so fucking proud of you,” you pushed him away from you to look into his eyes, showing him you really meant it.

“You have purple hair,” his eyes were roaming over your appearance, he’s taking so much in at once and he’s overwhelmed.

“Indeed I do, thanks for observing,” you laughed, pushing him further away from you. “Would you like to come in?” You waved your hand in the general direction of the apartment complex across the street.

Hm. Even with no address, no idea of where he was going or what he was looking for, he had found you. He felt proud of that, universal pull or intuition or soulmate attraction or something.

“I’d love to but- I don’t want to- Josh told me-” he didn’t want to say the words again.

“Josh told you that I’m engaged? What a fucking rat. Um, yeah, so, this is actually his apartment but he’s out of town so. Yeah, no worries about running into him or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He simply nodded, letting you lead the way. 

“What were you doing in this area anyway? Josh said you live all the way on the other side of town,” you left him to get comfy on the couch as you grabbed some drinks from the kitchen.

“You asked him about me?,” he stared at the tattoo on your wrist as you handed him a beer. The letters scrolled honey across your skin.

“Okay, I know a lot of time has passed but I think I still know you pretty well and I know this conversation will go absolutely nowhere because your brain is scattered right now. So, ask what you want to ask. Say what you want to say. Get the elephant out of the room, okay?,” you could hardly look into his eyes, knowing he had been crying, wondering if you were the reason why his face was red and puffy.

“You’re engaged? Who is he?,” Danny was quick to spit it out, the question fucking killing him since he heard Josh utter the word.

“His name is Jason, he’s a wonderful guy. Everything you always told me I deserved. Here,” you scooted the photo album that lay on the coffee table closer to him. He realized he hadn’t even taken in his surroundings, snatching up the book and flipping it open so he could see who this man was.

“I didn’t tell Josh where I was staying,” you mumbled. He left that unanswered as he thumbed through the photo book quickly, absorbing as much of these memories as he could, seeing so much of your life that he had missed out on.

“When did you guys meet?,” he needed to know how long this had been happening, somehow he thought that might ease the ache that was spreading in his chest.

“2018. He worked at the tattoo shop that I started going to, and he sat with me in the parking lot one night after a tattoo and we talked for hours. He wanted to know why I was in such a rush to change myself, asked about the word I had him put on my wrist,” your thumb mindlessly brushed over the area as you spoke. “I told him all about you.”

Danny’s eyes snapped up to meet yours, breaking away from watching the motion of your fingers. “What?”

“Well, it was you, after all,” you laughed. “God, I loved you so much Daniel. I really, truly thought it was going to be us. The day you told me you were leaving, I knew. I would never be enough. You were going to have this huge, spectacular life, and I’ve just been happy to see it from the sidelines. I really am proud of you,” you reached over to wipe his tears before you wiped your own, forever putting him before yourself.

“It is us, honey. I swear it is. That’s why I found you tonight,” a sob fell out of his mouth, “I love you. I love you so much and I always have and I’m so fucking sorry I let you go. I should have never sent that last message, it wasn’t what I wanted but I thought it was best and now I’m a fucking wreck because you’re engaged and I can’t watch you marry someone that isn’t me.”

The silence the two of you sat in was full of pain, yearning, regret, and worst of all - disconnect.

“Daniel, I’m in love with Jason. I haven’t been in love with you in a long time. You coming here and making these statements isn’t going to change that, honey.” 

“Can I come?,” his voice was weak, he sounded like a child just shot down from getting his favorite treat.

“To the wedding? You don’t want that, Daniel,” your voice was still full of intent, getting your point across, but shaking as you let your emotions take root.

“You think you aren’t enough for me?”

“What?,” you let out a light laugh at his not so subtle questioning. His mind truly is everywhere and nowhere tonight.

“That’s what you said, a minute ago. You said you knew you would never be enough. You’re wrong. So fucking wrong it’s despicable. You’re everything. You were too good for me, always were too good for me. From the first day we met and you cared more than my own mother about my banged up knees and making sure I wasn’t upset about what that dick Greg O’Connell said to me- you cared about me. Far more than I ever deserved, honestly. Far more than I ever showed you how much I cared. I did, though, I do. I always will care so much about you. I’ll always find you, GPS be damned. Your soul rests with mine and that is something no one can ever take from me. He can take you, marry you, make a family with you. But your soul will always be for me. We’ll find each other again. Maybe the next trip around the Sun. I want to go to the wedding, I want to know and feel that pain, let it hurt enough that I remember it the next time. In the next life, I’ll remember that knife in my fucking chest and I’ll never be selfish enough to let you go again.”

------------------------------------------

As much as everyone, yourself included, agreed it was a bad idea, the following summer you invited Danny and the guys to the wedding. They sat third row from the back on your side, they cheered the loudest when you kissed your husband for the first time. Never able to mistake Josh’s loud whoops or Jake’s wolf whistle for anyone else. As you walked down the aisle to your future, you locked eyes with Daniel. The smile on his face was genuine. So were the tears rolling down his face. You scrunched your nose at him, he returned it immediately. A signal through the years of silently saying I love you, and in this case a thank you for all of the years passed and growth done.

Three weeks later, you sat on the floor of your living room watching a shuffling playlist of music videos on YouTube, sifting through and opening gifts that were left for you and your husband at your wedding. A stack of blank thank you cards sat on the coffee table, writing a personalized one for every person. Opening a sky blue gift bag, pulling out the white stuffing paper, your eyes landed on a white card envelope first. Only your name scrolled across the front, you opened it to begin reading- interrupted by a quick glance toward the TV where ‘Light My Love’ by Greta Van Fleet just begun to play.

Beneath it, encased still in the original plastic box, the boutonniere that he donned the night of Junior prom. A pink rose, dusted with gold, now dried and partially crumbled. You hugged it to your chest, rising from your spot on the floor and wandering to the bookshelves across the room. Ever so gently, as not to jostle it anymore, you reached up on your tip toes to place the gift on the shelf. Right next to the framed photo of yourself and Daniel at graduation.

[hikikomoriaesthetic]

hi :))

would you say that exposure to yandere content heightened your yandere tendencies/behaviour? like, do you think you'd be any different, or your mindset wouldn't be the same as it is right now, had you not been exposed to those content?

sorry if this ask makes you uncomfortable, i'm just genuinely curious. wishing you all the best🤍

hello! no need to fret- it doesn’t make me uncomfortable at all! i am half asleep but i will try my best to answer like a normal human being ahah!!

i would definitely say yes! but i think for the better. i grew up with a constant mental struggle and never got the help i needed, so i only got worse as i got older. as such i began feeling empty, numb and tired. it felt like a void growing inside me as i aged, a hole i never thought could be filled and i gave up on trying.

through years of isolation and shutting myself away when my social anxiety exploded and i gave up on the world i came across anime and the yandere concept and i was enthralled. the idea that a person could act so loving to one person for eternity and never leave them was so very lovely. but i thought it was just a fictional term so i just hyper fixated on the characters.

it wasn’t until this year? i think! that i started reusing this tumblr and came across the irl yandere tag and accounts like mine that just used it to vent. i never felt more at peace. the doctors would give me pity looks but the yandere’s on here would understand. this account definitely saved me. it allowed me to figure out who i was, understand that i was a yandere and that there were other yandere’s on here who can understand the emotional insanity i go through daily.

we aren’t the sanest but that’s fine. a crazy home is better than no home. it is annoying how many fake yandere’s are on here and the people who clearly only want to date a yandere, but after awhile they are so easy to pick out from the rest. people tend to use the phrase ‘insane’ so carelessly these days, until they realise that real yandere’s aren’t characters and have been through trauma to the point their mind literally shatters and their perception of love is ‘love to the death’.

hope my answer was satisfactory! feel free to ask more questions if you wish! =^·ω·^=

[anlian-aishang]

Hii love i'd like to submit a priority request if possible!

So my finals start next monday and i have my physics exam on tuesday. I've trying to get myself to start studying for it for a week now but i just can't get myself to mainly bcz i've messed up my last few physics test which has really put me down, like i literally would rather stare at the ceiling for hours on end than study. I have the tendency to kind of hate a subject if i get bad grades in it which is frustrating and also stressing.

So i was wondering if you could please write a ff where the reader is going through a similar experience and Levi is trying to cheer her up (yes please preferably she/her pronouns) and kind of help her get back on track.

Sorry if this was long, i love you and thank you ♡!

I can absolutely relate to what you are feeling, I hope this helps a little. <3 Good luck, pal, you can do this!

// Tags: levi x reader, angst turned fluff, modern AU, hurt-comfort, self-doubt, food mention, fem!reader // Word Count: 1200

What the hell is wrong with you? Or was it something wrong with finals week itself? You remembered walking out of your last class, determined to study hard and ace the test, because you needed it. Instead, you had done everything but prepare for the exam. By this point, you felt you could count the number of divots on your ceiling, could name each of the threads of your socks. You had been staring into space for days now, studying anything but what you should have been. 

In your peripheral vision, your black backpack glared neon. It was as though it was a living being fueled by the dusty textbooks and notes inside. Eyes met yours in an stare down. Its voice mocked you from across the room. Harmonized by the ticking clock on your wall, the digital one at the bottom of your monitor, and the lock screen of your phone which you had checked a few hundred too many times. 

Levi should be coming home soon, with the take-out he promised to bring on his way home. Lips twitched downward as you pondered your emotions, both anticipating and dreading his return. Text messages had been sparse during this exam period, as he had been completely buried in his own preparation, but every night he reminded you of his plans: a night of fun after his last final - and that was tonight.

Elbows on your desk, face in your hands, you cursed to yourself. No chance you could afford to enjoy tonight, no matter how badly you wanted to. Tears started to brim when you realized: not only were you letting yourself down, but him too. 

// // //

Even just the way he came home, you could read his mood. The key jammed in the lock swiftly, his shoes toed off with a spring more energy. His knapsack landed with an uncharacteristically carefree thud. A loose, contended sigh as he shouldered off his coat and tossed it on the rack. From this full-time semester, freedom! 

Around the corner, he held onto your frame and spun himself in, “Hey, I’m -” His spark was short-lived, though. Peering into your room and seeing your state downed his flight. Three mugs of tea - dry and dirty. Your carpet was covered in a snowfall of crumpled looseleaf. A tired shake in your leg: an anxious fidget you must have been indulging all day.

Arms crossed on your desk, face buried inside them. You turned your head just enough for a side-eye, “Hey, Levi.”

Levi’s lips parted, but he knew better than to ask, for it took only a handful of seconds for him to recognize what was wrong. 

“I don’t think I can…” you sniffled, but it was fruitless to stop the trampling of your voice. Humiliated as your words tumbled with whimpers, “- don’t think I can… about tonight...” 

With each tear that fell down your face, his heart sank with it. “Hey, come on,” Levi reached his hand beneath your chin, fingers pinched and lifted your gaze to meet his, “don’t worry about that.” 

In his eyes ever still, you caught a wavering worry. In yours, he saw a silent pain and plea for help. He took a deep breath and exhaled silently - an effort not to stress you more. “You just keep working hard, and I’ll bring you some dinner.”  

He started to turn towards the kitchen, but with a tinge of panic, you clutched his arm and held him back, drawing a rare startle from your partner. You cried, “That’s the problem, I haven’t been working hard! I’ve just been sitting here, doing nothing, I can’t…” you swallowed and sobbed, “I can’t do it!!”

Levi opened his mouth, but your frenzy interrupted his calm, “I - I totally bombed the last two exams, and I studied for those ones. This one, I haven’t, so what do you think is going to happen?!”

He tilted his head, you did have a tendency to let things spiral, and in that mix, your frustrations were often misdirected. Luckily for you, you had found a boyfriend that was stronger than strong, not just smart, but wise. Calloused hands sandwiched yours. Voice as sturdy as his hold on you, as diligent as his eye contact met through black bangs, “You’re going to kill it, that’s what I think.”

Huh? Sturdy in the face of your disheartened confusion, Levi continued, “You didn’t bomb those exams, you just didn’t get what you hoped, but no one did. Don’t you remember how low the average was?”

Yes, you did, a habit after every grade release: talking the results through with him. When you closed your eyes, you could still see the distribution curve. Levi cupped the back of your head in his hand, wiped tears with his thumb, “So knock it off with the can’t do it, cause you’re smarter than that, and we both know that’s bullshit.”

There was something about his crass way of talking that kept you oddly grounded. Confidence and convention dripped from every syllable, impossible to disagree with. If Levi says I’m capable, I must be. You nuzzled your cheek into his hand and hummed, “You got me.” 

He could not see it, but he felt it - the smile that warmed across your face. In its wake, he allowed himself a smirk - slightly proud, mostly relieved. Arm reached around your back and pulled you to his chest, “Feel better?”

Beneath your ear, his heart beat steadily. Flexed forearm at the back of your neck. Cologne clung to his clothes, you clung to them. Against his middle, you laughed, “I’d feel better with some dinner.”

Levi rolled his eyes playfully and kissed the top of your head. “Consider me your hero, then.”

You already did.

// // //

Maybe this was a night of fun, after all. 

Both of you had changed into fresh new outfits, although they were pajamas. Dinner over candles, though it was at your desk. Holding color-coded flashcards, Levi quizzed you with fill-in-the-blanks. As soon as he finished reading the question, you would feed him a bite. He braided your hair as you reviewed your notes and massaged your shoulders when you hunched over too far. 

It was nearing 2 AM when he went to wash the dishes and came back to find you slumped and asleep in your chair. It was just after the hour when he gave you his shoulder and walked you to your proper bed. And it was when he guided your head to the pillow and pulled the covers to your chin that you stirred, “Le-Levi…?”

He brushed your strands aside, “Hm?”

“I - I was just… taking a nap.” A yawn with perfect, comedic timing. You struggled to sit up, “I need to … get back to work.”

Levi sighed, a soft press of his hand to your breast stopped you - gentle yet deliberate. “Relax. Get some rest, brat. We’ll do it again tomorrow.”

// masterlist //

[my-castles-crumbling]

Hi Cas! I’m, as you kindly dubbed, smiley anon 😊 I’m back!!! 

So I had the conversation. Thank you so much for your help. My partner knows I have good intentions but sometimes i get stressed talking about things- and mess up- and then they (ooooh- pronouns) freak out too.

There was one time, back when, where they used they/them pronouns (and experimented with style) and were SO euphoric. I took a bunch of pictures. So I sat down with them (with emotional support snacks and a film we love- if we have an argument that we think is out of love and wanting to help, we sit together in annoyed silence with a movie on. It’s our rule to stop us escalating arguments) and brought up the day and the photos. 

I planned out a bit of what I wanted to say (and what I wanted to not accidentally say) and I explained that they seemed happier when they were using they/them pronouns, at least from my view, but they were obviously free to pick whatever pronouns. 

Then I said that if they ever wanted to experiment more, switching it up, i’m super happy to help, but also, if this (he/him) is definitely what they want, then i’ll be happy to carry on. 

(I do possibly have a tendency to bring his family up. Mine were very unhelpful when I was discover my queerness so I like to point that out when other families do it- but thanks to your reminder I refrained- and that definitely prevented an argument). 

They said they’d enjoyed that day (with the photos) the most as well. Maybe we could try it again? So we did. And then again.

Currently me, and our three closest friends have gone to using they/them mostly with a little bit of he/him - as that was his preference (I haven’t used he/him here much as to not confuse you- but I am using the pronouns he wants) 

I’ve been careful to still use he/him sometimes, and I think they’re starting to shift stronger to they/them.

Yesterday they brought up their parents. It was like 3 months ago that the original switch from they/them to he/him at the parents house happened. 

They obviously want to see their parents again, and they want me to use he/him the whole time, which i’ve agreed to. 

They then asked me to try and slip talk about non-binary people into conversation… yep 

We have this rule that (with permission each time) we can use each other as scapegoats with our family. For missing awful events, or seeing old family members that’ve been shunned. Eg. “No, I don’t want to see your ex, my partner does, they were friends” - to my sister. Ex husband. They have a kid together so I wanted to stay in contact, since my sister was kinda the problem anyway. But that’s a story for another time. 

So we sat down together and came up with 3 ways (not that I have to use them all) I could casually bring up non-binary people, and then we’d both try and explain and defend them. Also their sister is kind of an ally, so we’re hoping to get her on our side or something. 

I’m aware this can go sideways, but hey, i’m happy that they’re trying to bring it all up to their family. Honestly I think they’re been more mature than I was when my family were dicks. 

(And aside from this, they’re parents are lovely people. Just not educated about non-binary people). 

Plus they do like me. So, you know, maybe they’ll listen to me. They call me “woke” and such as, but they don’t mind if I ramble about rights so it could be worse.

I’m a bit nervous. I trust my partner not to freak out or turn on me or get mad. But I do worry about his parents not reacting great to me trying to explain non-binary people, and then scaring them a little. Back to he/him. 

But most importantly, thank you Cas. 

I’m very aware I can come across as pushy and i’m quite blunt. I mean, i’ll be nice and all, but I don’t like to sugarcoat things. 

I often worry my partner will feel like i’m forcing them to come out faster, figure themselves out faster. Where as I just want them to have space from what I view as negative influences.

But, I have to remind myself that their relationship with their family is not the same as mine with mine.

Also, I decided to go with something fun to encourage them to get creative. Not to brag but I know my partner very well and they love colour and fun. 

So now you get a list of ways I tried to encourage experimenting. 

I bought stickers with a BUNCH of different pronoun variants on them. 

We work from home so I figured if they just put whatever sticker (or stickers) they felt like they wanted for pronouns that day- they wouldn’t feel weird about asking (also I wanted to be careful not to force only one set of pronouns- or leave them feeling unable to change their pronouns whenever)

2. I got badges. More generic. with different flags, pronouns and labels.

I wasn’t sure whether they’d want to say it outside or not. But in case they do, it can be affirming for a stranger to use your preferred pronouns for you (according to my friends). 

3. found an old, silly, little banner that says “Put your needs first” and hung it by our door.

And another that says “It’s okay to spend forever figuring yourself out”. (They made these FOR ME, back like 8 years ago, when we were just friends, and i was trying to put my internalised homophobia behind me so i could be queer and happy. i thought reminding them that they helped me would make them more comfortable to let me help them).

4. I made a list of all the thrift (+charity) shops nearby that me and our queer friends go to, so that they can look for new clothing.

We moved recently(ish) so we haven’t totally explored the whole area. 

They’ve been getting worried about spending money on this. I also nabbed some clothing from some of our friends, not permanently, but to help them figure out what they prefer. 

5. I LEARNT MAKEUP! I can do my normal makeup, but i’m terrible at detailed makeup. 

But i figured makeup is a big part of feeling like yourself, cause you can look more masculine or feminine of a good mix of both. I found some creators and learnt some tricks and now i’m like- not that bad! 

They’re enjoying my attempts at makeup A LOT.

They’ve seemed to really like everything i’ve done so far. I was subtle about it though, if they realise i’m actively doing things for them, they’ll freak out and say i’m too nice (which is dumb cause i’m not nice to many people- just them- and then like a few other ppl I deem acceptable). 

So anyway, we’re vibing with they/them most of the time and the occasional he/him. And we have dinner with their parents soon… where i’ll be trying to subtly teach them about non-binary people. 

SO. READY FOR THE PLOT TWIST? 

I want to meddle. I won’t and I expect you’ll tell me not to meddle and to just tell my partner but I have the meddling desire so i’m gonna say it. Ready? 

They should just tell their parents. My partners parents DO NOT CARE about problems in the world or anything really.

They only learnt about queer people for their child when they found out that they were queer, and they only learnt about the black lives matter protests back in lockdown when my partner‘s sister got engaged to a person of colour.

Don’t get me wrong, they’re very invested in the social injustices facing queer people and people of colour now. But they don’t care to learn unless it’s something their kids are actively involved in. 

So basically they only the put the effort in if they think their kids are involved. And they’re not quite smart enough to realise their kid might be non-binary.

The way I see it, the only way to get through to them, is if my partners honest.

BUT I will NEVER force them out and I don’t think they’re ready yet. So… I’m going to bring up non-binary people, their parents aren’t going to care at ALL (or worse, they’re gonna say something ignorant and upset my partner unknowingly) and then we’re all going to fall into awkward silence. 

So yeah. The conversation went well and we’re well but there’s some hiccups in the system 😊

(And, you know, if you have any advice for navigating this, feel free to dish it out. Thanks).

Also, LOVING Taylor’s album!!!!!!!!! There’s nothing like screaming I Can Do It With A Broken Heart, with my partner :)

Hi! <3

I just want to say, the things you have done for your partner are absolutely heartwarming. I'm sitting here like almost tearing up because it is so unbelievably clear how much you two love each other.

I think it's also clear that you both have great communication, and even though you WANT to do things a certain way, your partner has made their desires clear. And I have no doubts you'll respect them, because you respect THEM so much. And honestly, it is so cool to hear about how open and honest your relationship is.

You don't need my advice, hon, you're already doing everything right. Keep communicating, respecting your partner, and encouraging them. You're doing great <3

(YAS TTPD is AMAZING)

[winteranc156]

Hi! I'm the same person as the last, just not anon anymore because I really wanted to send pictures of my favourite quotes from some of your works.

I think my absolute favourite would be, and remain for a very long time, Disremembering Your Name. I don't know why it hit as hard as it did, but you sketched out Miranda so well, her resistance and Andy's persistence.

Miranda's relationship with her mother and how she deals with her emotions is linked so well, I love how she isn't immediately happy in the face of love — she understands that the love that exists for her comes with its own hurdles for both of them, and she tries so hard to repel and turn Andrea away.

"I wasn't made for Runway, but I was made for you."

When I tell you this line brought me actual, physical damage. I felt it in my bones when I read it. Hit me like a train, man.

"And her chaos begins to order itself with Andrea as it's gravitational center."

😭😭 Oh man, the inevitability of slowly slipping towards the person you're meant to be with...

"She's come home after wandering aimlessly for forty-nine years. In a lavish room in Paris, in the arms of the woman who's name is written on her heart, Miranda learns to silence her mother's voice."

To develop, to build over old hurt and pain and learn that you deserve companionship and love and joy is so hard, and she learnt to, for the one meant for her. 😭😭😭 .

"Because all things being equal, one day you'll have to live without me."

I'm glad you brought it up in the fic, because I feel too many people ignore the elephant in the room that is their age difference, that Miranda has already spent half her life living a love that wasn't half as strong as the one she is offered now. But it won't stay, and it will go away, if not for her, for Andy, because one day Andy will have to live without Miranda. I've read many fics where Mirandy practically becomes happy-go-lucky after she falls for Andy, and cuts out all her bad habits and tendencies just because "she doesn't want to lose this one". I think Miranda is a person that just naturally has a tendency towards sadness, and with Andy, it just makes it better. She's normal with Andy, sometimes happy, but not always. Sometimes happy.

"Miranda learns that alone is a badly made choice but it is never anyone's destiny."

Miranda, i sincerely hope you live the best 30-40 years of your life. I hope you have the best time that anyone could. I hope they make it through the ups and downs of being with each other, and without. I hope they make it through.

I hope I didn't write too much 😭 I just really liked your fic, and i would love to talk about some others as well if you don't mind. Have a great day! Thank you once again :"-)

It's never too much! It's incredibly flattering when people not only love what I've written but when it genuinely emotionally touches them. That's the highest compliment to me as a writer. I love that those words hit and hurt in the best of ways!

And I LOVED writing Disremembering Your Name. I remember each of the sections you've quoted and I remember how I felt when I was writing them. All my writing is a labor of love in some way, but this story truly was something that just came to me and flowed out of me. I have a whole world and backstory for how it all even works in that world of soulmates that never made it into the fic.

I really love that Miranda came across to you like she did. Because I agree. Miranda is sad and resistant to the offer of happiness when she can't control it. (And in no iteration of the worlds I've created has Miranda ever been able to control Andy.)

Thank you for this lovely, lovely feedback.

(Feel free to drop me a note in messages. We can discuss more in-depth there.)

[mediaevalmusereads]

Alone With You in the Ether. By Olivie Blake. Bramble, 2020.

Rating: 3.5/5 stars

Genre: literary fiction

Series: N/A

Summary: Two people meet in the Art Institute by chance. Prior to their encounter, he is a doctoral student who manages his destructive thoughts with compulsive calculations about time travel; she is a bipolar counterfeit artist, undergoing court-ordered psychotherapy. By the end of the story, these things will still be true. But this is not a story about endings.

For Regan, people are predictable and tedious, including and perhaps especially herself. She copes with the dreariness of existence by living impulsively, imagining a new, alternate timeline being created in the wake of every rash decision.

To Aldo, the world feels disturbingly chaotic. He gets through his days by erecting a wall of routine: a backbeat of rules and formulas that keep him going. Without them, the entire framework of his existence would collapse.

For Regan and Aldo, life has been a matter of resigning themselves to the blueprints of inevitability—until the two meet. Could six conversations with a stranger be the variable that shakes up the entire simulation?

***Full review below.***

CONTENT WARNINGS: drug use, blood, mild sexual content

OVERVIEW: I don't quite remember how I came across this book, but I decided to give it a chance despite it not being one of my go-to genres. I was intrigued by the role the setting might have played in the story as well as how two very different people might come together. By the end of the book, I wasn't sure how to feel. On the one hand, there were some lovely moments, accentuated by Blake's lyrical prose. There were also some interesting meditations on time and some good character work. On the other, I wasn't quite sure what this story was trying to do. It's not quite a romance, though it is a love story, and it's sort of about coping with mental illness, but in a way I'd consider unhealthy. Maybe it's supposed to be messy that way, so I'm rating this book 3.5 stars; in some respects, this might be just the book readers are looking for, but I can understand how it might leave some feeling empty or confused.

WRITING: Blake's prose is interesting in that it's not afraid to follow threads of scattered thought and revel in the merging of the theoretical and actual. I really liked the way it explored the concept of time and connected that to the relationship between Aldo and Regan, having characters replay scenes in their mind and imagine different realities. Some of the imagery that went with these explorations is also very compelling, and it felt like Blake was playing with philosophy or metaphysics.

I do think, however, that the pace had a tendency to slow down a bit too much. This isn't a dramatic book and the development of the characters is very slow and deliberate; but even so, there were points when I felt like we were treading some of the same roads or standing still in a way that felt unproductive.

PLOT: The plot of this book follows two strangers, Aldo and Regan, who meet at the Art Institute of Chicago and decide to get to know one another. They agree to have six conversations, after which they find they are falling in live and must decide how to proceed.

If you're looking for a romance novel, you won't quite find it here. The vibe I get from this book is less romance and more romantic literary fiction. This isn't a bad thing: just a warning to those thinking of picking it up for the love story.

There were some aspects to this plot that I liked. I liked that it was incredibly character-focused and got into the nitty gritty of what made up a person: their fears, their hopes, what gave them life and pleasure. In that sense, I felt like the protagonists developed a real emotional intimacy.

The story lost me a bit towards the end, however. At about the 60% mark, the relationship started to feel somewhat off to me, and I'm not sure if it was on purpose. I think it was - Blake explores what it means to love another person as well as what it means to have wants versus needs (cravings versus compulsions). But I still think things fell apart somewhat abruptly and came back together in a way that didn't feel entirely genuine. That's just my personal take though, and it's possible I just straight up missed something.

CHARACTERS: Aldo, our male protagonist, is a grad student in theoretical mathematics at the University of Chicago. He is obsessed with the idea of time and "solving" the problem of time travel, and math seems to give his life a kind of structure that feels comforting. At first, I thought Aldo might have been coded as neurodivergent, but I'm not sure; other reviewers will have better interpretations than I can provide. I do think, however, that his reliance on ritual was understandable, and he was likable for how generous he was regarding Regan.

Regan, our female protagonist, was a little more chaotic; when she meets Aldo, she's volunteering at the AI, living with her boyfriend Marc, and attending court-mandated therapy sessions following an arrest. While I appreciated the skill it took to depict Regan's messiness, there were things about her that just didn't click with me. She always seemed to crave new things and defaulted to sex, and while fine, it did start to irritate me when she seemed to demand a lot from other people without giving much in return. Mayne she's flawed in this way, which I can also appreciate, but it doesn't make me like her much.

I do very much respect how Blake developed these two characters and depicted the ups and downs of their relationship. I went back and forth between thinking they were good for one another and thinking they were each other's unhealthy obsessions, which I guess might have been the point. This isn't a fluffy, romantic story in that it portrays two people falling in love and overcoming obstacles; in some respects, the obstacles remain, but their love story is really about learning to see each other and cope with their respective flaws.

Still, there were some things I wish had been handled differently. For one, mental health treatment and medication is portrayed negatively in this book, though from the author's note, it's clear that Blake was writing a character and not trying to make a statement about medication. Still, it felt a little strange to portray someone as only being able to be artistic and feel at peace while not being treated, which seems like a weird point to make. For two, Blake doesn't exactly explore the effect race and class have on these two characters. Both protagonists are mixed race, but their ethnicities and cultures seem to have little bearing on how they moved through the world or affect how their personalities and troubles develop. The same is true for class; Regan is a trust fund kid who doesn't need to worry about working and Aldo comes from a working class background but attends an elite college without thinking much about it. To be fair, Regan does have a moment when she realizes that her art project matters to her because she put in the work herself and didn't have her family throw money at something, but that's about as deep as it gets. There's no reflection on how her wealth might have enabled her to act without consequences or some such.

TL;DR: Alone With You in the Ether is memorable for its strong character work, free-flowing prose, and focus on the concept of time. Whether or not you enjoy this book, however, will depend on your reaction to the messiness of the characters and their relationship.

[sentmail]

𝙏𝙃𝙍𝙊𝙐𝙂𝙃 𝙄𝙏 𝘼𝙇𝙇, 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙒𝙀𝙍𝙀 𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃 𝙈𝙀.

In a bid to remind myself why I write in the first place, I give you this: a celebration piece to bring to light some of the many scenes that still linger in my mind across the nearly 10 years now that I've been writing Kunsel.

Through everything that I've gone through, both in my personal life and on here wretched platform, what kept me going were the people that choose to give me a chance and believe in me, and took to writing with me with a care and attention that is hard to find — being the first to write with me seriously, remembering small character details, challenging me as a writer, entertaining the silliest of concepts, telling me you're happy to see me back whenever I crawl out of one of my hiatuses, it is a myriad of small things that mean the world to me.

I genuinely think neither my take on Kunsel, or myself really, would be the same without you guys. I wish I could form the words necessary to get my feelings across, but well, you'll have to contend yourselves with this sappy mess as I don't usually deal with emotions very well.

@meteor-shots — Zack, I know you're not really around anymore and we don't talk as much, having both moved onto different ventures & fandoms, but that just makes the times that we do cross paths (or you take the time to log on just to poke me) mean all the much more. Zackarías Fair will forever have a special place within Kunsel's heart, having been the first Zack to accept Kunsel as his best friend, if not more. You've also met me at my most uncertain, stuck between names and not really knowing where and who I'd turn out to be, and I thank you for letting me have the space to figure it out.

@backwaterheroics — Rowen, you are a menace and so is your Cloud. We share our tendency to appear and disappear at random, and so fall in the habit of not crossing paths. And yet, whenever we do meet, it's like no time has passed at all, and we're back to chatting and plotting and putting our two assholes through the wringer just for fun. I appreciate your Cloud deeply for letting me explore Kunsel's more antagonistic, grudge holding and jealous tendencies, as they are still a facet that lingers within him.

@pseudodead — Do I really even have to explain why you're here? Our of everyone I've written with, I feel like you're one of the people that are most invested in my portrayals, characters and world-building, and even as you move onto other fandoms and blogs, you still offer me some way to bother your muses or at the very least, push me to explore my concepts and challenge me to grow as a writer. Also sorry about the message spam you'll be getting when you eventually log on bestieeee.

@churchflower — Blue we're already back to chatting on Discord so I've made my feelings clear on how happy it makes me that we happened to reconnect, and it made me so giddy to hear you say you came back just for Kunsel. Having met you in the same era as Zack, you've seen my portrayal of him grow through the years, and I feel like I can attribute part of it to the fateful day you decided to entertain the thought of Kunsel & Aerith as a ship. Now look what happened to us. We're in ruin.

@fourthclone — DON'T THINK YOU'RE GETTING OUT OF THIS. We've already gone over the "I'm so happy you're back" business but!!! Again, I am so happy to see you back! And it meant so much to me to hear that you were hoping I'd come back - it was your pushing that got me fully back on board with this whole thing, and I have many thanks to give you and your Roche. We share the turbulent boat of kind of niche, disregarded characters, and it pleases a stubborn part of me that we're both still here after everything we've been through. Here's to us hurting our feelings with our blorbos for years to come.

Memories.

-----

Before he could come up with an answer, though, Kunsel was hugging him. At first, it surprised him, though he didn't know why. Maybe just because the last five years had been completely devoid of positive touch like this. Maybe it was because he hadn't quite expected it. But either way, it was needed, and Zack felt himself sink into the hug almost immediately, wrapping his arms tightly around his friend and burying his face in the other's shoulder.

Am I lost? You're not lost, you know this place. See how you know this place? That's not right—

His panicked breath halts and the world shifts under his feet. Against the cracking ache and the fogged haze, he lifts his head and blinks into the shine of mako gold eyes. When did you get here? Kunsel has information and he sends it to you often. Leave, he's not important.

"Lost? Me?" His toothy grin sends a flare of pain behind his eyes. When have we met? You know him, like you know this place. "Kunsel, man, you know I've run around underplate a thousand times! Stop worryin'! I'll see you later, ok? Things to do, pretty girls to see—"

Kunsel Zantos showed promise. That much had been obvious from day one of his formal recruitment; questionable background and motivations aside (that which, perhaps, had begun Tseng's careful monitoring in the first place). But in truth, the Turk had not expected him to last long. Bets placed against him for all manners of reasons/excuses, foolish enough to go poking his head in places they didn't belong.

And yet, here he was, stubbornly persistent despite it all.

The last time he had to deal with a SOLDIER directly like this? All those years ago. Alongside Zack. A case which had been pulled from its archival home to live under the watchful gaze of the leader of the Turks because of the very reckless idiot he was now working with.

There was a comfort in physical contact that Aerith couldn't explain. It was always how she had been. But she bottled that for the sake of being heartbroken. The more Kunsel came around, the more that heartbreak lifted. The more she felt herself. The more she punched and pushed, teased and tapped. Invaded his space with those big green eyes and smiled at him as wide as she could...

She was happy.

"...you're the only one that's left— you— you KNOW everything, and I know you have to live with that just as much as I do, but you've come back after all this time, and that's all you can say to me? 'Life isn't a game, Roche— life isn't a stage!' Then what am I supposed to make of it, huh? Play the loyal little hound like you? Bow down and kiss some Shinra ass while I'm at it? Abandon who I am; what my heart tells me to do? You're no better than those goddamn Turks."

-----

Thank you for the commission! 💜

[pickledpascal]

Secret Weapon

Chapter Four: The Thrill

Warnings: Gore, shootings, guns, violence.

Word Count: 3.7k

Secret Weapon Masterlist

Previous Chapter  |  Next Chapter

Seeing Silva in the flesh… It was unsettling. It had to be that blond hair. It was way too light, making him stand out. Ezra had to admit, for a villain Silva wasn’t the most discreet in the way he portrayed himself. Half the people Ezra went up against didn’t always have that… quality about them. There could be aspects about them that made them recognizable but none as stand-outish as Silva. 

Ezra and James stood in the cell with a guard, awaiting for M to appear. Sure enough, the sliding doors off to the side of them opened up to reveal M with Tanner behind her. The man of the hour was encased in a glass box, illuminated brightly from the lights inside. Silva sat in the cell, clad in a nicely pressed prison suit. While MI6 had quite the reputation of taking down some of the worst criminals in history, sometimes they liked to treat them nicely. A little too nicely if Ezra had anything to say about it. 

M took a breath, stopping as soon as Silva’s eyes caught hers. It was like she saw a ghost. Someone who came back from the dead. Ezra and James share a look before fixing their gaze on the man in the cell. It’s a little too quiet, only sounds in the room being their light breaths and the far off buzzing of the lights. 

“You’re smaller than I remember.” Silva spoke first. His voice came through from a speaker, his disembodied voice echoed throughout the small chamber they were in. An enclosure Ezra knew he would despise being in if he were in Silva’s position but Ezra wasn’t the man trying to kill the head of MI6…

M cut back, voice clipped. “Whereas I barely remember you at all.” Oh, no. Ezra could tell she did. Perhaps she remembered him a little too well.

“Strange.” Silva hummed. “For me, it feels just like yesterday.” Then, a smile made its way to the edges of his lips. A creepy one. Perhaps a bit excited for his situation. “Are you surprised?”

“Not particularly. But then, you always were a slippery one.” M admitted, eyes trained on Silva to catch every last move he made. She hadn’t been in the field in a while but her observational skills never suffered.

Silva let out a huff, a laugh. “Maybe that’s why you liked me so much.”

“You flatter yourself.” M hissed.

Silva nodded slightly, tilting his head to look at the pair of agents off to the side of M. “Right. Because they’re your favorites now, aren’t they? Hm? Especially that tall one. I can imagine why.” His eyes raked across Ezra’s form, a dangerously flirtatious glint in his eyes as he stared. It made the agent uncomfortable but he didn’t let it show. James’ gaze hardened at Silva. Being built to kill only enhanced his protective tendencies. “... They kept me for five months in a room with no air. They tortured me, and I protected your secrets, I protected you. But they made me suffer… and suffer… and suffer.” Ezra cocked an eyebrow. Been there, done that. “Until I realized it was you who betrayed me. You betrayed me. So, I had only one thing left: my cyanide capsule. In my back left molar. You remember, right?” MI6 didn’t do things like that anymore. If an agent was killed, then he was killed. There weren’t many cases of kidnapping agents for information anymore. “So I broke the tooth and bit into the capsule. It burned all my insides. But I didn’t die.” He let out a light laugh, shaking his head. “Life clung to me like a disease… And then I understood why I had survived… I needed to look in your eyes one last time.”

M tried her best to not show any emotion. Even if Ezra could tell there was a storm brewing inside her. “Well, I hope it was worth it.” She said simply before she continued, “Mr. Silva, you are going to be transferred to Belmarsh prison where you’ll be remanded in custody until the Crown Prosecution Service deem you fit to stand trial for–”

“Say my name.” Silva interrupted, the sudden change in his emotion surprised M but she quickly composed herself. “Say it. My real name. I know you remember it.”

M narrowed her eyes momentarily. “Your name is on the memorial wall of the very building you attacked. I will have it struck off. Soon, your past will be as nonexistent as your future. I’ll never see you again.” She turned to leave and almost did until…

“Do you know what it does to you? Hydrogen Cyanide?” Silva narrowed his eyes, raising his voice to catch M’s attention. With a glare, he reached into the depths of his own mouth and with a loud, scraping crack, he removed his upper palate. A prosthetic implant that showed the disgusting row of broken, spiked teeth and burned tissue on his face. With a grin, he looked at M. “Look upon your work, mother.”

M watched. The only part of her that showed the horror she was feeling were her eyes. Silva could tell as he looked into them. M quickly turned on her heels and left the room, the agents and Tanner followed her. They walked back to the main corridor of the bunker, M turned all business-like.

“Let me know what you recover from his computer. Has he transmitted the list? If so, to whom? I want this resolved.” M said as they walked, glancing from Tanner to James.

James nodded passively, “Yes, ma’am.” 

Tanner is about to leave with M before she stops him, turning to the two agents. “His name is Tiago Rodriguez. He was a brilliant agent but he started operating beyond his brief, hacking the Chinese. The hand-over was coming up and they were on to him so I gave him up. I got six agents back in return and a peaceful transition.” There’s not much more to say. A reasonable act, even if it possibly cost the life of another. 

“We should go, ma’am. Board of Inquiry begins in thirty minutes.” Tanner reminded M, a slightly concerned look in his eyes. His entire job was being the assistant to the head of MI6.

M nodded, looking at Bond and Wayne again. “I want to know what’s on that computer.” She said again before she followed Tanner out of the bunker. 

The pair watch her for a moment. Ezra then turned to James and pursed his lips, “Time to see if that brain still works, eh?” He joked softly. 

They were a bit tense after James was saved from Silva’s island. The man did reveal the reason Ezra was there. Not exactly to be James’ partner but to watch over him, make sure he didn’t die. James didn’t take well to being watched like a hawk. Never did. That’s why he barely had any partners on missions and usually M would respect his choice. Not this time, it seemed… Ezra and James walk to Q’s new headquarters. Alix could feel the tension as soon as they entered the room but they had a feeling the agents would work it out. 

“I don’t blame you. Not really.” James admitted in a murmur, looking up at Ezra. His words surprised the dark-haired man. “You’re quite the agent. I just think you didn’t… have to be pulled back into all this because of me.”

Ezra tilted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes as a light smile formed on his face. “You’re blaming yourself. Not a good look, 007.” He playfully nudged James with his shoulder. He understood, though. Agents had a complex. They were confident and charming until it came to someone they loved. Then, they blamed themselves. “You haven’t forced me to do anything I didn’t want. Quite the opposite really.” He hummed with a wink. 

James bit the inside of his cheek, refraining himself from smiling. It was hard not to. 

“Quit the flirting, will you?” Q shook his head as he looked down at his computer. Alix was typing away as well as a whole team that was trying to get through Silva’s computer. They sat near Q. Apparently Alix was almost on the same level as Q, just not as included with agents besides their father. 

“Now, looking at Silva’s computer, it seems to me he’s done a number of slightly unusual things… he’s established fail-safe protocols to wipe the memory if there’s any attempt to access certain files.” Alix explained, adjusting their glasses as they looked at their computer.

Q nodded with an affectionate smile as he listened to Alix. Perhaps there was another reason they were up there with him. If only Alix could see Q where Ezra was standing. “Only about six people in the world could program safeguards like that.” He continued for Alix. 

“Of course there are.” James hummed, watching Q carefully attaching cables and wires from Silva’s laptop to the MI6 computer systems. “Can you get past them?”

Q chuckled, “I invented them.” As soon as he’s done attaching the cables, the big screen in the middle of the room lit up and filled with data. “Right then… Let’s see what you’ve got for us, Mr. Silva.” The screen looked like it was filled with a spider-web, data entangled in all sorts of ways. Ezra knew he wasn’t cut out for the Q-Branch. Unlike Alix.

“Sir, what do you make of this?” Alix asked, glancing up at the big screen as the maze of data got even more confusing. 

“It’s his Omega site, most encrypted level he has… looks like obfuscated code to conceal it;s true purpose: security through obscurity.” Q narrowed his eyes for a second, hands clicking on his keyboard as he tried his best to decrypt it. 

James stared at the images. It certainly screamed Silva. Chaos with all the different lines and arrows and codes. His island was practically a big supercomputer with servers all over the place just to power it. Then the images change, rapidly with each try Q typed. 

Q’s tone became irritated. “He’s using a polymorphic engine to mutate the code… Whenever I try to gain access it changes. It’s like solving a Rubix cube that’s fighting back.” 

As numbers roll across the screen, Bond’s eyes catch onto something. “Stop.” He quickly said. It was calm but piqued the interest of Ezra and Q. The web stopped mutating now that Q wasn’t trying to get in. A tiny word is visible as James stared. “Granborough… Granborough Road. That’s an old tube stop on the Metropolitan line. Been closed for years. Use that as a key.”

Tapping a few keys, it finally orientated the images. It’s clear to see what it was meant to be. Other words and symbols are legible. “Oh, it’s a map…” Q realized.

“Subterranean London…” Ezra hummed. Then he blinked. Fuck him. 

A few clicks rang out, hatches in the floor unlocked and slowly flipped open. It confused the rest but it seemed Ezra and James had the same thing on their minds. “What’s going on? Why are the doors open?” Q asked just before the agents bolt from their positions.

“Silva…” Alix realized, eyes fixed on the place the agents once were.

Ezra and James ran to the corridor, stopping at the observation chamber when they realized the two guards at the chamber were down. Both necks broken. “Q, he’s gone.” James quickly said into his earpiece as he caught sight of a grate in the floor that was pulled aside. Silva’s escape plan. “Wayne, I need you to warn M. Go to her meeting if you have to.” He said, slightly out of breath before he started to climb down.

Seemed Ezra didn’t have much of a choice so he simply nodded. He ran back up the corridor. “Got both of us yet, Q?” He asked into his comm. He needed to get out. Perhaps get a car.

Q answered clearly, “Got both of your locations. Easier since you’re still in the bunker.” He joked softly.

“Glad to know you’re not panicking, Q.” Ezra sighed as he pushed past a few doors. Aggressively since he was still running. Agents and other operatives stared at him. Should they have been following him? Probably but it was 009. Whatever it was, he should have been able to get through it.

“Oh, I am. Jokes are just part of my coping mechanism.” Q admitted.

As Ezra made his way to the surface, he heard Q and James banter yet again. Something about the tube. He let out a small laugh, shaking his head. Ezra can’t have a car, not yet. Running would work but that meant he had to run halfway across London just to get to M. He hoped he’d get there in time. He’d feel guilty, having M’s death on his hands. 

So he ran. Ezra pushed his legs as hard as they could go, feet were sore after just a few minutes of running through the crowded city of London. They stared, not that Ezra had much time to look. 009 was back on the job and he would be damned if he wasn’t going to finish it. After all, he had a life to live. One that didn’t include London falling or his child out of a job. What kind of father would be if he let that happen? 

Desperation only made Ezra more furious. More motivated. To kill. 

Ezra arrived at the Whitehall Office, just a few moments after Silva it seemed. The security guards inside were freshly dead. The agent grabbed his gun, time to open fire. He quickly went down the hall, shooting stay goons as he arrived at the Board of Inquiry. Such a strange thing to see panic in a usually calm room. 

Silva quickly caught sight of Ezra, turning his fire on him but the agent quickly ducked behind one of the desks. The courtroom was a mess, shots getting fired in all directions. As discreetly as possible, Ezra made his way around the room only getting shot at twice. Silva missed both times. 

He wasn’t the best shot.

James burst in, adding to the line of fire from the cover of a doorway. 007 took a survey of the room as quickly as possible, looking for a distraction of some sort to get M out of there. He glanced at Ezra, winking at him. It took a moment for Ezra to register it but he quickly nodded. The pair pick a fire extinguisher to shoot and do so immediately–steaming white powder obscures their vision of Silva.

But it also obscures Silva’s sight of them.

Eve and Ezra make their way to the middle of the room for some cover fire, letting Tanner guide M out of the building. It seemed Silva had a similar idea because moments later, the offensive fire died down causing James to try and chase after him. Ezra did the same. 

As soon as the pair burst out of the building, they’re too late. Silva was in a police vehicle and drove away. But then… there’s another vehicle off to the side of the building. The agents share a simple look. 

Seemed they had the same idea.

Soon, M and Tanner emerge from the building. Tanner helped M into the car, trying to climb into the other door before the car shot off. He’s confused before he recognized the driver as James.

“007, 009, what the hell are we doing?” M demanded. Ezra looked at M through the rearview mirror. Neither of them answered. “Are you kidnapping me?”

Ezra tried, jokingly, “That would be one way of looking at it.”

Slightly skeptical, M looked out the window at all the chaos happening outside. EMTs were driving, screaming in the opposite direction. Toward the building. It wasn’t exactly hard to put together what the agents were doing. Smart, really.

“Too many people are dying because of me.” M sighed, parts of her walls were coming down. Though, not fully. They never would.

Bond looked at her in the rearview mirror. Their eyes met after a while. “If he wants you, he’s going to have to come and get you. We’ve been one step behind Silva from the start. It’s time to get out in front. Change the game.” The plan was slowly starting to form in his mind.

“And I’m to be the bait?” M simply asked. The pair nodded, surprised when she agreed. “Alright. Just us. No one else.” She wouldn’t have it any other way. The two agents she trusted most with her life.

It couldn’t go wrong. Could it?

Then Ezra pressed a button on the dash of the car. A comms system. “Q… We need help.” The man said, glancing at the man next to him. 

“I’m tracking the car, where are you going?” Oh, Q. He was always the voice of logic. Well, they didn’t exactly need to tell him that at the moment. He’d see.

James spoke up next. “We got M. We’re about to disappear.”

“What?” Two voices this time. Ezra could tell who the second one was. Alix. God, they were so clueless sometimes. They probably got it from him, to be honest.

Slightly amused by the inclusion of Alix, James let out a chuckle. “I need you to lay a trail of breadcrumbs impossible to follow for anyone except Silva. Think you can do it?” Right, back to business. 

“I’m guessing this isn’t strictly official?” Alix asked over the comms, quieter.

Ezra admitted softly, “Not even remotely.”

“So much for my promising career in espionage…” Q’s voice was farther away. Ezra could imagine his disappointed expression already.

—--

M, James, and Ezra stand at a series of different storage units, the car behind them. Ezra looked around at the different units, he had one here too…. The agent walked around to try and remember where it was. M watched as James fiddled with a lock on one of the doors. “Well, I’m not hiding in there if that’s your plan.” She said with a light scoff.

“We’re changing vehicles. Trouble with company cars is they have trackers.” Bond said matter-of-factly as he pulled the door up. It revealed a 1964 Aston Martin DB-5 in a light gray, almost silver color. His favorite gadget.

M let out a light laugh, “Oh and I suppose that’s completely inconspicuous.” 

“Where’s Ezra?” James changed the subject, looking around outside the unit until the agent appeared seemingly out of nowhere with a few guns in hand. 

Ezra went to the DB-5’s trunk. “Wherever we’re going, I have a feeling we’re going to need to stock up, hm?” He popped the trunk open, throwing the guns in the trunk. 

James smiled. He liked the way Ezra thought. Preparedness was not Bond’s forte. With a kiss to his cheek, Bond ran over to Ezra’s storage unit. He took a few more bigger guns before he pulled the door down. The trunk was filled with quite a few guns and other gadgets once Ezra closed the trunk. The pair got in, M sat in the back as the DB-5 roared to life out of the lock up.

They’re on the outskirts of London already and Ezra leans into the passenger seat. Might as well try to get comfortable, he could tell they’d be there for a while.

“It’s not very comfortable, is it?” M hummed as he looked around inside the car. One would have thought she would feel at home in the car, it was about as old as she was. 

James flicked up the cover on the stick shift to reveal three buttons. Ejector seats. One for the driver, another for the passenger, and the last for the backseats. “Are you going to complain the whole way?” He’s slightly irritated but there’s a light affectionate glint in his eyes.

“Oh, go on then. Eject me. See if I care.” M crossed her arms, her shawl moving with her.

Soon, they’re not in London anymore. City was far behind them, only the rolling hills of the countryside started to fill their vision. 

M spoke up again, “So where are we going?”

“Back in time. Somewhere we’ll have the advantage.” James answered. Surprisingly cryptic for someone who liked straight-forward things.

Suddenly it clicked for Ezra. James hadn’t had much of a life before MI6. But there was one thing. Skyfall. His home. 

They were going home. 

Hours later, it was midnight and M was fast asleep in the back seat. Ezra turned his head to focus on the road, then he glanced at James. “Are you sure about this?” There wasn’t much going back now, even if James wanted to. “I can handle it from here.” Ezra whispered.

Adjusting his grip on the steering wheel, James shook his head. He knew Ezra could handle this alone. Far more gracefully than he ever could. But he needed to prove to himself that he could do this again. Be the tool that kills the machine. “I know, darling. But I need to see it through. For my own sake.” James admitted softly. 

Admitting his own faults to Ezra came easy to him. Far too easy than he thought it would ever be with anyone… Besides Vesper. 

He never thought love would come to him again. Not like this. There wasn’t a day that went by where he didn’t think of her. Until Ezra Wayne inserted himself into his life. At the beginning, Vesper was on his mind all the time but then she was slowly washed away like the waves outside his windows. Bond didn’t forget her. No. But existing with the guilt of her death became easier when the dark-haired man would smile or laugh or if James would get the rare chance to see him shirtless.

Well, the only time James did see Ezra was purposeful. The taller man had left his bathroom door open by accident and James took a peek inside. Ezra was preparing for a shower, steam covered the mirror in front of him and he turned slightly. Two adjacent scars stood underneath Ezra’s pectorals among lines of different tattoo lines running down his arms and torso. 

James just hoped he could live another day to see the rest of his body.

[cherrysha]

Interrupted Monologue

Pairing: Zhongli x Reader

A/N: im trying to get back into the swing of writing and came up with this today,,, its not edited since i didnt want to spend too much time on it, and im working on my tendency to over explain concepts in my fics and this was a practice on that. i hope yall enjoy!!!

Word Count: 700

Warnings: yandere!Zhongli, asphyxiation, slight mindbreak(?)

Zhongli is the type of yandere to accidentally injure his darling, not because he forgets his own strength, but because he genuinely forgets just how fragile humans are.

It’s hard to remember when he’s witnessed everything they’ve accomplished in Liyue. How intelligent, how cunning, and accomplished they are. He’s watched humanity grow since the very beginning, watched its development in wonder. Has fought side by side with humans and has seen their resilience firsthand. 

So what’s a little bit of choking? He knows the correct way to do it, focusing on cutting off the blood supply by pinching the arteries on the side of your neck with his fingers. If he meant to hurt you he could easily crush your windpipe and deprive you of oxygen, but hurting you was never his intent.

So when you go limp in his lap, eyes fluttering shut after they had been wide eyed, hand desperately clawing at his own around your throat, it confuses him.

He’s not sure what else to do besides removing the pressure from your neck.

For a man with so much knowledge, he can’t seem to remember what to do in a situation like this. Can’t remember if he was ever in a situation like this. It only takes a few seconds after the blood supply is renewed to your brain before you wake up again, but in that time Zhongli feels his heart in his throat. Keenly aware of your heartbeat, of your breathing, aware enough to realize that you’re okay but still not quite understanding it.

You look up at him, his mouth slightly open and brows furrowed, and he looks… insulted. You haven’t been with him long enough to completely understand his emotions, how they play across his face. It doesn’t occur to you that you’ve read him wrong until he’s caressing your head with the same hand he choked you with, whispering apologies and excuses. 

“My head hurts” is all you manage to say in response. 

The hand that’s tangled in your hair stills. Of course it does. Zhongli relaxes at the sound of your voice, at such a frivolous statement that betrays your state of mind. Your soft voice looking for comfort from the man who caused your pain. A kind smile morphs Zhongli’s face as he stares back down at you. 

“Understandably so.” He whispers.

More gentle than he’s ever been, which you’d think would be hard to achieve since he’s already so soft with you normally, he’s picking you up as he rises from his seat.

“Let’s get you into bed then.”

Zhongli didn’t intend to hurt you, but as he makes his way through the empty corridors he finds peace in knowing that an incident such as this one was inevitable. Yes, humans could be resilient. They could be formidable allies and opponents if afforded the chance, even without a Vision. But wars and fighting were only a small sliver of life. He’d become acquainted with those facets of humanity a long, long time ago. He was embracing a human life for himself now, and the complexities of his choice only grew more enigmatic with each passing day. 

He used to believe that the fragility of humans was a blinding weakness. Even now, looking down at how you’ve curled yourself into his chest, eyes closed as you patiently wait to reach your destination, he can’t bring himself to see anything but your weakness. And he thinks about it for much longer than he should, his mind having been made as soon as your body went limp from his tiny display of power. But that was his nature, to think long and hard until the path forward was crystal clear.

When he places you into bed, you slowly slide yourself under the duvet. It’s obvious that you’re exhausted, whether it be from your brief stint of unconsciousness or the argument that preceded the incident, Zhongli isn’t sure. 

What he is sure of, however, is that you have taught him an invaluable lesson, one much more interesting than all of the dangers he’s prevailed over in his long life. And it’s one that he won’t soon forget.

[psychovigilantewrites]

Stay Away

Pairing: Reader/Jason Todd

Genre: Smut

TW: AGE GAP!! PSEUDO-INCEST! PLEASE READ SUMMARY, IVE RECEIVED LOTS OF CRITICISMS FOR THIS FIC SOOOO 

Summary: THIS IS A REPOST SINCE TUMBLR TOOK IT DOWN DUE TO POSSIBLE REPORTS LOLOL 

This fic is about a young Robin!Reader with a much older Jason. Mentions of past sexual abuse. This started out as a drabble lol, I got carried away. Anyway, Hope you enjoy! I love reading comments, so don't be shy!

Edit: Due to this fic being my only controversial one, I’d like to update the warnings by giving a brief description of what happens. Reader is adopted by Bruce at 14, she has a small innocent crush on Jason that isn’t explored until she is older (Jason has ZERO feelings for her at this stage because SHE IS JUST A KID HERE). At 16, she becomes more aggressive in flirting with Jason. At 17 (Gotham’s legal age of consent- I based this on New York’s age of consent), she has oral sex with Jason. At 18, they have sex (Jason is 27).

I wrote this a while back, and now that I’ve learned a few things along the way, I realise that a sexual relationship between a 27 year old and an 18 year old is still highly problematic- even though legal. I do not condone these actions in real life, and I doubt Jason would as well. This is purely fictional, an outlet for my fantasies when I was younger. I still do not believe in creative censorship and I want people to enjoy this fic even if it has no place in the real world. We are all allowed to escape into fiction and our own fantasy and enjoy them privately without guilt. 

“And this is Jason,” Bruce introduced you to him.

Another one?, Jason thought, though he felt slightly guilty for thinking it. He had many problems with Bruce, but deep down he knew that Bruce adopted all of them out of kindness and good intentions.

“Hey,” he grunted, holding out his hand.

You just looked at him with big, frightful eyes, still sticking close to Bruce’s side. You looked young. You couldn’t have been older than fourteen. Your hair was cropped messily short, and it made you look almost like a young boy.

Jason raised an eyebrow and dropped his hand when you didn’t take it.

“Who’s he?” you whispered to Bruce with a soft voice that the average person wouldn’t have been able to hear.

“He, well,” Bruce hesitated, “He’s Red Hood.”

Jason’s eyebrows shot up.

“I decided to tell her everything,” Bruce explained to Jason, “So she can make an informed choice since young.”

“When you’re that young,” Jason glanced at you then back to Bruce, “Anything would sound cool. Even something dangerous that will rob you of your childhood. It’s not an informed choice, you’re basically dangling a cookie in front of her.”

“I’m not young,” you squeaked, “You’re just old.”

Jason scoffed at that.

Though you had voiced out your comeback, you were still shaking in nervousness, refusing to meet his eye.

Jason couldn’t blame you for that. He knew how his eyes looked.

“All of you were younger than her when you chose this life,” Bruce said softly.

“Did we really choose, Bruce?” he argued back.

“I’m not encouraging her,” he defended, “In fact, I’m doing the exact opposite. This time, I’m telling her the truth and nothing but the truth. The good, and the ugly.”

Jason saw how you didn’t like the way the conversation was going, talking about you as if you weren’t there. You had a deep frown on your face that made you look older than you were, but also, paradoxically, a cute pout that brought out the child in you.

“Whatever,” he finally shrugged, “Your kid. As if any of us had a say in anything anyway. If this was the only reason why you asked me to come here, I’ll be leaving.”

He turned to leave the manor, to go back to his safe house.

“Good riddance, old man!” you called out after him in a shaky voice.

Jason looked back and raised an eyebrow. You immediately blushed and avoided his eyes. In the back of his head, he thought about how he could recognize your accent anywhere.

***

The next time Jason visited the manor, which was about two months after the initial introduction, he found Bruce training you basic self-defense in the Cave.

Your hair had grown slightly, and you probably fixed the cut to suit your features better.

“What happened to being discouraging?” he said out loud.

You jumped at his voice, but Bruce looked at Jason knowingly.

“It’s just self-defense,” Bruce explained, “Useful regardless of Robin or not. She’s a fast learner.”

Jason saw how your face lit up at his praise.

Great, he thought. You weren’t even Robin yet and you already got that Robin complex every one of them seemed to have had.

The constant need for praise and emotional connection from Bruce, as well as a sense of delusional idolization of the man who adopted all of you.

“Where’s Grayson?” he huffed.

“Right here, Jay,” Dick’s warm and bright voice came from behind. Jason resisted the urge to jump just like you did.

Dick was already in his Nightwing costume, and walked towards you.

“Hey little sis!” he greeted, arms open. You flung yourself at him for a hug.

Jason rolled his eyes.

“Don’t the two of you live here?” he scoffed.

“Just because you’re emotionally constipated doesn’t mean the rest of us are,” you shot at him.

Jason smirked. You were feisty, yet still wary of him.

He found that adorable.

“She’s right,” Dick chuckled, “You wanted to see me, Jay?”

“Later,” he mumbled, and changed into his alter ego.

Once Jason and Dick were alone on patrol, he brought it up.

“Don’t you disagree with this?”

“With what?”

“Her,” he said, “Or more specifically, him bringing her into all of this.”

“I did at first,” Dick frowned, “But you’ve only met her once, Jay. You don’t live with her. She’s been through a lot, and her being Robin, well, I think it’d be good for her.”

Jason felt his chest tightening. Bruce had always used the excuse that he made all of them into Robin to help channel their emotions into doing good, to prevent them from falling into darkness.

Yet, Jason still did. And he fell right into an abyssal void that he was still trying to get out of.

“Maybe,” Dick continued, “You should get to know her. You’ll see what I’m talking about, and what Bruce sees in her. Tim disagreed at first as well, but after a while, even he warmed up to the idea.”

He frowned at Dick, and then looked away, sighing.

“Whatever.”

***

A month later, Jason had agreed to meet Dick and Tim at a diner.

The food wasn’t that good, and the service average, but it held many memories for him. Dick used to take him there after patrol when he was still Robin. When he went rogue, Dick had brought Tim there. Post-rogue, all three of them would meet up.

He was early, because he was closer. He waited about ten minutes before he saw Tim walking through the door, with Dick behind him. Following Dick, he saw you.

He frowned.

He supposed that he had to get used to you being around, since you were already in the picture.

He didn’t know why he felt like distancing himself from you. With Tim, he had a good reason. A personal reason that he had moved on from.

But you? He had no reason to push you away. Though, Jason had the tendency to push everyone away.

Dick took a seat next to Jason at the booth, and across from him were Tim and you. You were dressed simply in an oversized hoodie he recognized belonged to Dick. It made you seem smaller and younger than you really were. Your hair was in a short bob now. So you were growing it out after all.

Fine. He decided to give you a chance. He had been unfair to you, after all.

“Isn’t a bit too late for you to be out, kid?” he poked at you, “Don’t you have school tomorrow?”

“Fuck you, you colossal freak of nature,” you cussed at him.

Jason was taken aback.

And then he started laughing out loud.

You weren’t so bad after all. The shyness and wariness that you displayed the earlier times almost all gone, and then there was that familiar accent that he somehow felt at ease listening to.

Dick let out a loud groan.

“You owe me twenty,” Tim suddenly said to Dick.

“Come on,” Dick addressed you, “I had faith in you! What happened?”

“It’s just in my nature, okay?” you pouted, “I can’t help it.”

Dick fished out a twenty and threw it at Tim.

“What is happening?” Jason asked, confused.

“I bet ten that the first thing she says to you would be an insult, twenty if she threw in the word ‘fuck’,” Tim grinned.

“And I,” Dick enunciated dramatically, “Thought that she would at least hold it in until after we finished eating.”

“What, you a potty mouth or something?” Jason smirked at you.

“Unless Alfred or Bruce is around,” you grinned.

It was the first time you smiled at him.

“Coward,” he shook his head, “I used to say all sorts of shit even in front of Bruce and Alfred. You gotta step up your game, kid.”

“And Alfred got you bankrupt, didn’t he?” Dick reminded, “You had to put so much of your allowance in the swear jar.”

“I believe in freedom of expression, alright?” Jason huffed, “I had to stand by my principles.”

“Principles?” Tim scoffed, “You?”

“Yes, me, Timbers,” Jason reiterated, “I’m a man of my word. If I’m gonna swear, I’m gonna go all the way.”

“You’re an old man of your word,” Jason heard you mumble.

“I’m only twenty-three, sweetheart,” he responded, “Dick’s the old man here.”

“Am not!” Dick protested.

“Yeah, Dick’s not,” you agreed.

“How does that make any sense?” Jason challenged.

“Because Dick doesn’t treat me like I’m a kid,” you shrugged, “He brings me up to his level, so I don’t see him as an old man. You on the other hand…”

“But you are a kid!” Jason argued back, “What are you, twelve?”

“You know for a fact that I’m fourteen!” you growled.

Jason grinned at you, and expected you to continue defending yourself. But for some reason, you just remained silent, and he saw a blush of red settling on your cheeks.

“Whatever you say, kid.”

***

The time that passed between that night and the next time he came back was shorter. He watched you train with Dick, and saw that you had already improved a lot.

He went back, and came back again, three weeks later. Your moves were faster, cleaner, more efficient.

He went back, and came back again, a week later. You landed a blow on Tim.

Soon, he realised that he was looking forward to his visits, because he wanted to see how much you progressed during the short time he was gone- and you never disappointed.

“She must be training nonstop,” he casually said to Tim one night on patrol. Bruce still didn’t allow you out with them yet, because you were still too new.

“Dude, she wakes up at four every morning to train for two hours before going to school,” Tim told him, “After she gets back, she does her homework and studies for a bit, and then trains again for another three hours before going to bed. She’s borderline crazy.”

Jason frowned to himself.

He knew that pattern. Training relentlessly to lose himself in the physical exertion, to feel like he had some sort of power every time he landed a punch, to regain some sort of control.

You were either running away from something, or towards something.

“I never asked,” he started, “But how did he end up adopting her?”

“Uh,” Tim rubbed the back of his head in hesitation, “I don’t know if I should be the one to tell you. You should ask her yourself.”

“Oh, come on,” he groaned, “You mean to tell me that you asked her yourself? Dick or Bruce didn’t tell you?”

“Of course!” Tim grumbled, “We’re friends, Jason. We hang out. We talk. You’re the only one missing from the circle.”

“Fucking whatever.”

***

He really wanted to ask, he really did.

If not out of care, then out of curiosity.

But honestly, a heart to heart talk with another human being? That wasn’t him.

Yet, he really wanted to know.

He had tried to sit down next to you when you were just watching TV alone in the living room, he had tried to knock on your door while you were blasting shitty music out loud. He had even tried to call you up and see if you wanted to meet him for dinner somewhere.

But he never got to it.

In the end, a year had passed since he first met you, and it was your big night. It was your first debut as Robin.

“Stick to at least one of us,” Jason overheard Bruce instruct you in the Cave, “Don’t go off on your own, don’t act first, and always listen to orders.”

“Yes, sir,” you rolled your eyes, then put on your domino mask.

Jason smirked at your attitude. You had come out of your shell and he learned that you were really a feisty, sassy, annoying little brat.

He thought the Robin uniform suited you. It was more modern than his was- the colors more muted- and he saw that you probably had demanded Bruce to include designs of your own. Like how your black cape sort of shimmered in the light, and how there was fucking lace at the lateral sides of your legs.

Your hair was long now.

All of you split up during patrol, and Jason had found himself panting on a roof after taking down a dozen guys who thought it was a good idea to seek revenge for the time he pissed on them from the edge of a building while they were doing a drug exchange.

It had been pretty funny, the way they were so furiously humiliated.

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a movement. He turned to look at the building from across the street, and saw that you were sitting there on the edge, legs dangling, overlooking the alley below.

He grappled to where you were and silently approached you from behind.

“I thought he told you to stick to someone,” he said.

“Jesus, fuck,” you jumped, “Stop doing that, you asshole.”

“Think of it as training for your ears,” he chuckled, and sat down next to you.

“I was with Bruce, then Dick, then Tim, then I ran away from Tim to find you,” you explained, “Looks like you found me first, though.”

“Why did you want to find me?”

“Dunno,” you shrugged, “It’s my first night. Just wanted to see everyone in action.”

“Well, you missed one big fight,” he said, “Took out a dozen guys in under five minutes.”

“Not bad,” you smirked, “Wish I could have seen it.”

“You will eventually,” he hummed, “It’s not a big deal.”

“Yes, because you obviously have done worse,” you poked.

“Is that why you were so afraid of me in the beginning?” Jason wondered, “Because you knew I killed people?”

“I was never afraid of you,” you frowned, “What gave you that idea?”

“You couldn’t stop shaking the first time I met you,” he reminded.

“Fine,” you conceded, “You looked pretty big and scary. And when Bruce said that you were Red Hood, that shook me up a bit. But it wasn’t because you killed people.”

“That’s a first,” he scoffed.

“But now I know that you’re just a massive prick who pretends to be badass to cover up the fact that you’re just a sad, fragile being- well, it’s hard to be scared.”

“Oh, we’re throwing shade now are we?” he snickered, “What about you and your obsession with training just to compensate for the fact that you feel small and weak inside with no control over your life?”

He had expected you to retort, but you just frowned and looked down towards the alley.

Shit.

Jason always had that problem where he didn’t know when to shut up, or what not say to people. Granted, most of the time he didn’t care if the other party got offended or not.

But he didn’t want to hurt you.

He was just going to open his mouth to apologize until-

“I’ve been here before,” you started, “This alley. A long time ago. My big brother- he dragged me here away from my dad so he could beat me up.”

Jason remained silent in shock.

“Not that my dad was any better,” you added, “I guess my brother was like that to me because my dad was like that to him.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that. Was he supposed to comfort you? Or tell you something funny to distract you from the sadness?

Instead, he asked, “What about your mom?”

Jason’s mom had been there, yet not fully there. But when she was, he was grateful at least, to know the warmth of a hug in a run down apartment with no heater during the winter.

“Died giving birth to me,” you explained, “Dad always blamed me for it. He’d tell me that he wished I was never born- that he wished he wore a condom when he fucked mom, that at least if she was alive, he didn’t need to fuck whores.”

“And fuck whores, he did,” you continued bitterly, “But they weren’t enough, I guess. He- he even- I-”

You never finished your sentence, but you didn’t need to. Jason was smart enough to put two and two together.

He felt his blood boil, his rage seeping in. It was like he was that Red Hood again. And for the first time since he came back to Bruce, he didn’t try to push that memory away.

He could go rogue again. Just one more time.

“Where is he- they- where are they now?” Jason managed to grit, tasting blood in his mouth.

“Dead,” you snorted, “Thanks to you.”

“What?”

That took him out of his burning anger.

“Turns out dad was working with Black Mask,” you elaborated, “He dragged my brother with him as well. It’s how he managed to afford all those prostitutes and heroin, I guess. I think they were at one of those shipments you crashed or something back then. You left twenty dead.”

Fuck, he remembered.

Black Mask was at the docks, waiting for a shipment of weapons, drugs, and girls. He remembered feeling frustrated that Black Mask slipped away before he got to him, so he took out his anger on everyone else working with Black Mask.

“Lived in the streets after that,” you continued, “Fend for myself. Cut my hair short so people would think I was a boy. I had to stay tough, you know? When Bruce found me, I was doing an odd job for one of the local gangs. Small one. Was supposed to recruit people my age. Start them young, he said. I guess Bruce had been following me for a bit. He approached me and that scared the shit out of me.”

You paused to smile sadly at the memory.

“But he just asked me for my name, and age,” you stared into space, “And he told me that I could do better than that. That I had potential. He asked me if I wanted to help people rather than drag them into dangerous stuff. And how could I say no? Especially after wishing for so long that someone would come and help me when I was with my dad and brother living in a run down apartment with a leaking roof near Crime Alley.”

You finally looked at him.

Jason was glad that he was wearing a helmet, because he wanted to hide from the stabbing guilt he felt. He didn’t want you to see him that way.

“So you’re right,” your blank white lenses pierced his own, “I train because I want to feel strong, because I’ve felt weak my whole life. I train to feel as if I have control over my own body, my own movements. Hell, even the fact that I grew my hair long gave me a sense of control.”

“I’m sorry,” Jason finally managed to croak, “I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine,” you dismissed, “Plus, you did me a favour before. I kind of owe you one.”

“Favour?”

“You got rid of my dad for me,” you stood up, “Thanks.”

And for the first time, looking up at you as you were looking down, smiling at him, he didn’t see you as a kid.

“Sure thing, kid.”

***

Jason started dropping by once every two weeks. Sometimes he would even come around twice in a week.

He had warmed up to you after you told him your story, though he was kind of frustrated that Dick, Tim, and Bruce were all right, and he was the wrong one all along because he didn’t know you.

But then, you also started warming up to him.

And that became the major issue.

Since you donned the Robin uniform, your ego had spiked up. Your confidence and arrogance came with every progress you made. A year into Robin, Jason couldn’t see a semblance of that frightened little girl with the short hair, voice shaking as she tried to insult him.

No, now you were just so fucking annoying.

And for some reason, you started to be more aware of your sexuality as your confidence grew.

At the age of 16, you had started coming onto Jason strong.

“Jason,” you pouted at him, “Why don’t you come stay at the Manor anymore?”

“Because you’re there, kid,” he joked, staring at Gotham’s skyline from the rooftop where you, him, and Batman would occasionally stop to catch a breath.

“Jasooon,” you whined, high pitched and long, “I miss spending time with you.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, because you were touching his arm, squeezing his biceps. Not that you could see his face, given the helmet he wore. He kind of missed how you were back then. All you had were insults and swear words for him, and you definitely didn��t whine.

“Don’t you have Tim to annoy?”

“He’s always busy,” you huffed, “And when he’s not busy, he’s sleepy. Tim’s boring. You’re more fun, in an assholey cocknose dickweed kind of way.”

Ah, there it was, your colorful language. He had to admit, your creativity impressed him.

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” he chuckled.

“So why don’t you come over some time and we can have some fun?” you purred seductively.

Jason was taken aback.

He wasn’t sure whether you meant it innocently, or whether you had hidden motives. He glanced at Bruce who was minding his own business, ignoring the two of you.

He didn’t think you would flirt with him in front of Bruce, so he dismissed it and blamed himself for thinking lewd things.

“My idea of fun involves a bottle of whiskey and B-Grade horror movies, kid,” he patted you on the head, “And you’re too young to drink.”

“Hmph,” you slapped his hand away, “That’s not what I was talking about, but whatever.”

You strutted away.

It wasn’t that he didn’t find you attractive, it was that he shouldn’t find you attractive. What was a 16 year old doing flirting with someone his age? Weren’t you supposed to have crushes on the quarterbacks in your school?

Hell, even if you wanted someone who knew of your nighttime activities, there always were the Teen Titans, whom you regularly joined. That Aqualad wasn't a bad kid, but for some reason he didn't like the thought of you dating just yet.

But still, you had no business with someone like Jason. Age wise, or personality wise.

*** Two weeks later, he dropped by again for movie night.

When he walked into the living room, the only person who quirked up when they saw him was you, probably because the rest had already heard him coming.

“Jay!” you squealed, and ran to him, flinging your arms around his neck in a hug.

“Hey- oomph,” he slightly stumbled. It was the first time you hugged him.

And now that you were so close, he was hyper aware of you. You were wearing shorts and a tank top- with no bra. He could smell your vanilla lotion and your chocolate spice shampoo.

He could feel your strong arms, your heavy weight, your burning heat against him.

And for the first time, he actually got turned on by you.

Fuck, he thought. He shouldn’t be thinking of you like that. As if the age difference wasn’t vast already, you were still underaged.

He awkwardly patted you on the back, in an attempt to respond to the hug. He could make out Tim and Dick snickering at him at his obvious discomfort.

“You’ve gained weight,” he gruffed, trying to break the hug because he was dangerously close to popping a boner.

As expected, you let go of him.

“Yeah, I did!” you grinned happily, “I’ve gained about five pounds of muscle mass!”

You started flexing your toned biceps comically.

“Maybe you can gain five pounds of brain mass next time, kid,” he smirked and ruffled your hair.

“I’m pretty sure that’s a medical condition, you twatwaffle arsebadger,” you shot back at him.

“Jar,” a chorus of lazy mumbles from everyone else rose.

You grumbled and walked towards a coffee table, where a clear mason jar almost filled to the brim with folded notes sat. You shoved in five dollars.

Jason took off his jacket and sat next to Dick on the long sofa. You then hopped towards him and started snuggling next to him.

Jason looked at Dick in question.

Dick merely shrugged.

Jason had a hard time concentrating on the movie that night, because you leaning your head on his chest, and playing with the denim of his jeans absentmindedly.

He wasn’t used to it.

Human contact.

And he knew how you were. You were probably the same with Dick and Tim. You just chose him that night to snuggle up to.

But then you made a comment about how hot the guy in the movie was. Jason didn’t think much of it until you leaned up to press your mouth on his ear and whispered, “Not as hot as you, though.”

That made him jump out of his seat in panic.

Everyone else looked at him suspiciously, but you were just looking at him with a knowing smirk.

“Toilet,” he mumbled, and left.

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,” he paced in small circles in a washroom down the hall.

He looked at his reflection only to see how red he was at his ears. He gripped the edges of the sink and took deep breaths, trying to play it cool.

Now, it was obvious that you were flirting with him. There was no denying it.

But why on God’s planet were you?

Jason groaned quietly to himself.

Whatever. He thought that you’d probably just drop it eventually.

***

Half a year later, and it didn’t.

And it got bad. Real bad.

Jason still kept visiting regularly, and every single time he did, he would get almost sexually harassed by you.

He was just sitting down in an armchair in the living room, reading a book, when you came along, and with the most arrogant, most entitled smirk, sat on his lap.

“Get off,” he grit, eyes never leaving his book. He was scared of what you were wearing this time.

“But you’re so warm,” you hummed, swinging up your legs across his lap, so that you were being cradled by him and the armchair.

“The fire’s right there,” he pointed to the fireplace, “If you need help, I can throw you in it.”

“I’d rather you throw me in bed,” you purred.

He snapped his book shut and squeezed the bridge of his nose.

“Just. Get. Off,” he growled.

It was dangerous. Your smell was intoxicating, and you were shifting and shuffling against his front. His mind started to wander, and he hadn’t even looked at you yet.

“But Jasooon,” you whined, “You’re nice and soft.”

He glared at you.

And regretted it.

You were wearing an almost see-through white loose t-shirt that exposed your shoulders. The thin fabric clung onto the curves of your breasts which were- thankfully- covered by a pink bra. You had a pair of satin booty shorts on which hardly covered your ass, which was sitting on top of his crotch.

“Actually, no let me take that back,” you pretended to wonder, “You’re pretty hard.”

And you gave him a wicked grin.

His eyes widen in panic and he stood up suddenly, causing you to fall flat on the floor.

“Fuck!” you cursed, “What's the big deal, jizzcock?”

He left the room and rushed to the toilet. He looked down, and found his penis was normal, flaccid, non-erect, unfilled.

That bitch fucking tricked me, he thought.

And he fell for it.

He went to look for Bruce who was in the cave, in front of the computers.

He took a wheeled chair and sat behind him.

“Bruce,” he started, “I need to talk to you.”

“What is it?” Bruce asked without sparing a glance at him.

That ticked him off a bit.

“It’s about your daughter.”

Jason saw Bruce pause, and then turned around to finally face him. “What about her?”

“She’s been flirting with me,” he grumbled.

Bruce raised an amused eyebrow.

“She’s sixteen, and she’s flirting with a twenty-five year old man!” he complained, “If she’s doing this to me, God knows who else she’s been doing this to!”

“And?” Bruce questioned.

“And? And?” Jason repeated, “And aren’t you worried?”

“She can take care of herself,” Bruce stated, “She’s mature. She won’t let herself be taken advantage of.

“Look, Bruce,” Jason squeezed his temples, “It’s great that you trust her and all that, but don’t you think it’s kind of fucked up? Christ, she’s sixteen!”

“And she’s well aware of that,” he said, “What would you have me do? Do you want me to talk to her?”

“Forget it,” he gave in, and left for his safehouse without saying goodbye to you.

Because that night he laid on his bed in the dark, guiltily thinking about your ass on his dick earlier. But thankfully unlike earlier, he had allowed his cock to fill up.

He knew he shouldn’t, but he thought of that time when you and him went jogging around the manor. You wore just a sports bra that showed off your cleavage, and sports shorts that rode up your ass. He couldn’t resist looking at the way your tits bounce with every step, and when you ran in front of him, his eyes darted down to check out your ass before he realised what he was doing and excused himself.

Excuse himself because he needed to stop looking, to stop thinking.

But now, he let his thoughts free.

He thought about how that one drop of sweat trickled down between the valleys of your breasts, how your muscular back glistened in the sun, how flushed your cheeks were.

He glanced down at his cock, which was already hard and leaking precum onto his stomach, twitching in need of attention.

“Don’t touch it, don’t touch it,” he muttered.

He couldn’t stop his mind from wandering, but he could try to resist from touching himself.

He owed you that at the very least.

He gulped loudly.

It really wasn’t fair. You didn’t look sixteen, or act sixteen. You were far mature even at a younger age.

But you were still sixteen.

And it wasn’t fair how you could tease him and get away with it.

“Fuck,” he groaned in frustration.

The way you swore sort of turned him on as well, oddly. He loved your use of language, and how dirty your mouth was.

How even dirtier your mouth would be if he shoved his cock in-

“No,” he whined, and he touched his cock.

He stroked it once, twice, three times, and then he came hard, long ribbons splashing onto his chest.

“I am a jizzcock,” he whispered to himself in shame, and then cleaned himself up.

***

Three months later, Jason had just come back from a mission in Mexico. Throughout his trip, he’d been bombarded with texts from you.

The topics spanned from the usual banter about training, Dick, and how you’ve been annoying Alfred with “ok, boomer” memes, to you sending him mirror selfies of yourself in fitting rooms trying out clothes that made Jason almost drool and you attempting to flirt with him.

Jason responded normally to the former, but sent short uninterested texts to the latter.

But when he came back to his safe house, he found his spare handgun on his bed- which was not where he last put it. On it, was a sticky note with a written message:

Try not to lick. R.

“What the fuck?” he muttered. R must have stood for Robin, and then suddenly Jason gulped, wondering what the fuck you had done to his gun.

He opened his phone to check his conversation with you, only to find that you had sent him a ten-minute length video.

His thumbs were shaking when he clicked play.

The video started with a closeup of your face in an awkward position, setting what Jason presumed to be your phone, on a surface with an angle you had in mind. Jason looked behind him and saw that his chair had been placed right in front of his bed, where you must have put the phone on.

“Fuck,” Jason realised. He did not like where this was going.

Or did he?

In the video, you then strolled to his bed, fingers touching his sheets. You were wearing nothing but a white flowy sundress that Jason thought made your skin look absolutely radiant. But instead of sitting on his bed, you had gone out of the frame, and then came back with the gun.

He swallowed hard.

You sat on the edge of the bed with a naughty glint in your eye. And then, you started to caress yourself sensually, squeezing your breasts as you made your way down to between your legs.

Jason realised he had started sweating and panting, getting aroused as his cock slowly started to fill out.

You spread your legs and dipped your hand beneath your dress, but Jason still couldn’t see anything because you had taken the fabric and hid what was going on under. He saw your mouth fall open and you let out a long, loud moan.

“Jason.”

Jason’s breath stuttered. His cock was aching in his jeans, begging to be touched.

Your hands were working underneath the fabric, teasing Jason with only an idea of what you were doing.

“I’m so wet, Jay,” you purred at the camera.

And then, your other hand went to take the gun.

You brought it up to your lips and flattened your tongue against the gun and licked all the way to the muzzle. Even in the low quality, he could see your saliva wetting his gun. Then, you gave him a wink and brought the gun to where your other hand was, between your legs.

Jason stopped the video then and squeezed his eyes shut, breathing hard through his nose at an attempt to calm himself down. Once he did have a semblance of control, which took almost five minutes of just trying to steady his breathing, he opened his eyes and dialled your number.

“Hey, Jay,” you picked up.

“What the fuck?!” he roared, “How the fuck did you get into my safehouse? Hell, how did you even know where it was?!”

“Oh, Jason, please,” he could hear you roll yours eyes, “You’re overreacting.”

“Over-?” he growled, “Overreacting?! You came into my house and then started to- started to-”

“Fuck myself with your gun?” you giggled.

His dick twitched.

“You need to stop this, kid,” he tried to bring his rage in, “Stop it, before you regret it.”

“Or what?” you teased, “What would you do to me, Jason? Spank me?”

He couldn’t. Jason just couldn’t with you. So he ended the call and threw his phone across the room.

He sat down at the edge of the bed and buried his face in his palms. His cock was still aching, and he was dying to touch it.

He glanced at the gun next to him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, and then unbuttoned his jeans, letting out a hiss of relief when he could finally take it out.

He started to furiously stroke his cock, just staring at the gun laying there. He wanted to smell it. He wanted to lick it. He wanted to see if he could still taste you on the metal.

“God fucking dammit,” he cursed, and then he came in pulses.

*** “What’s up, fucktrumpet?” you poked.

Jason let out a long and heavy breath from his nose, the sound becoming static as it went through the voice scrambler of his helmet.

It was a week later, and Jason had joined patrol with you, Bruce and Tim.

“Fuck off, kid,” he walked away from you, pretending to be looking out for something from the ledge of the roof.

“Oh, come on,” you whined, coming closer to him anyway. “You enjoyed it.”

“Tim,” Jason turned away to approach the younger man, “How’s things?”

“Don’t ignore me!” you ran after him.

“Leave me out of whatever this is,” Tim sighed. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Pfft, you’re always in the mood for me, Timbers,” Jason nudged his side with his elbow.

“No, she’s always in the mood for you,” he pointed to you, “For some reason.”

“Well, I’m not in the mood for her,” he grit.

“Meanie,” you pouted, “All I’ve ever been is nice to you, Jay. And what do you do? Act like an absolute thundercunt.”

He wanted to laugh at that, but he couldn’t. He had to keep up his appearances.

“Listen here, you brat,” Jason finally turned to you and poked your shoulder hard with his finger, making you wince. “You stay the fuck away from me.”

“Hey, Jay,” Tim suddenly interrupted, “You don’t need to do that, man.”

“This little bitch broke into my house and started defiling my things, Tim,” he growled, “Yes, I need to do that.”

“Defiling your things?” Tim repeated.

You let out a soft giggle.

“Forget it,” Jason threw his hands up in the air. “I’ll patrol alone.”

Jason saw the slight disappointment in your eyes when he left which made him feel a little guilty, but he ignored it.

Whatever, you were basically just asking for it.

***

Another half a year went by, and Jason found himself at the Manor for Dick’s barbecue and pool party. He was already dreading it, because he knew you would be up to no fucking good, especially when you had the excuse to wear a bikini in front of him.

He had contemplated about not going, but Roy was going to be there, and Roy was making him go.

The first person Jason looked out for was you, because he had to be on his guard. He was standing at the glass sliding door of the manor that opened to the pool to survey the crowd. He spotted you in the pool, laughing at who he assumed was Aqualad- Jason didn't bother to learn his name- wearing a dark red bikini top that fixated behind your neck.

“Jaybird! You made it!” Roy’s voice boomed all the way from the other side of the pool and came running to where Jason was standing awkwardly.

He knew many of Dick's friends, but he was never particularly close to any of them besides Roy and Kori. Now that Kori was gone, Roy was all he had left.

“Don't call me that,” he grumbled back.

“Aw, come on,” Roy groaned, “You came to a pool party in a t-shirt and jeans? Seriously?”

“I wasn't planning on swimming,” he shrugged.

Roy was sporting a horrible bright yellow swimming shorts with green palm leaves.

“Well, I was, so I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

“Yeah,” Jason nodded and decided to head to the pool chairs and put on his sunglasses. He even brought a book to bury his nose into to avoid social interaction.

He heard a splash of water and from the corner of his eye, saw you coming towards him.

“Don’t even,” he snapped at you before you could get a word out.

“I wasn't even going to do anything, fucking dipshit,” you shot back.

Jason forced his eyes back to his book to avoid getting caught looking at how the water trickled down your glistening skin that looked oh so soft-

“What do you want then?” he huffed, turning a page.

“Well,” you began, taking a seat on the pool chair where Jason's feet were, “I was going to ask you about Roy.”

Jason glared at you, peeking from the top of his book.

“What about Roy?”

“You guys are close, right?” you hummed.

“I guess so.”

“Like, best friends?”

“What are we, twelve?” he scoffed, “Why are you asking me so many questions?”

“Well, since you're close to Roy,” you started, “I was wondering if you knew his type.”

“His type?”

“Yeah, like what kind of girls does he like?” you grinned.

“Ones who aren't underaged,” Jason growled.

“Jason I'm already seventeen,” you reminded, “Which is the legal age of consent in Gotham.”

“It doesn't matter,” he grumbled, “He's older than me, which makes him way too old for you. Forget it.”

You pouted, and then stood up. He had to redirect his gaze back to his book.

“It’s like you don't even know me, Jaybird,” you snickered, and with a flip of your wet hair which splashed droplets of water onto him, you strutted away.

He was gritting his jaw so hard he could feel his teeth ache.

Fuck, why can't you just stop?

“I need a fucking drink,” he muttered to himself and left for the kitchen where he rummaged through the refrigerator to find a stout.

He popped open the bottle cap on the marble edge of the kitchen island.

“Alfred would kill you if he saw you do that,” a voice laughed.

Jason rolled his eyes at Dick, who was sipping on a can of beer behind him. “I’ve gotten in trouble for worse.”

“God, I forget how similar you guys are,” he leaned against the counter.

“Who?”

“You know who. Her,” he pointed out.

“We’re not the same,” he denied, heading back outside.

“No, she deals with her issues better than you did,” Dick followed him, “As a matter of fact, you're still dealing.”

“Get to the point, Grayson,” he snapped.

“The point is, she’s not a kid, Jason,” Dick told him, “Why don't you give her a chance?”

Jason stopped in his tracks, standing still before exiting through the glass door. It was quieter inside the manor.

“A chance for what?” he grit.

“To prove herself to you,” Dick explained, “I've noticed how you treat her, Jay. Tim as well. It's like you're trying to push her away. Why? You don't think she's good enough?”

“Holy shit,” Jason started laughing humourlessly, “You think this is about me simply not liking her? You guys think I'm just being angsty?”

“Isn't it?” Dick cocked his head to the side.

“She's been fucking flirting with me, Grayson,” Jason said.

“Okay, I get that, but she sort of flirts with everyone,” he shrugged.

“She comes and sit on my lap, whispers stupid shit in my ear, sends me pictures of herself trying on revealing clothes, makes vulgar motions with her hands, fucking tries to seduce me,” he listed down, “Don't tell me she does that with everyone.”

“Okay, maybe not,” the older man frowned.

“Let me tell you, then,” Jason walked closer to Dick, “She broke into my fucking house, sat on my fucking bed, and started recording herself on her phone, and then sent the video to me.”

“Wait, what?” Dick sputtered, “Recording herself doing what?”

“You fucking know what,” he stated.

“Oh, Jesus,” Dick ran a finger through his hair, “Wow, she's ballsy.”

“That's your reaction?” Jason scoffed, “She's ballsy?”

“I mean-”

“She's sexually harassing me, Grayson!” he argued.

“But,” Dick began, “What did you really think about it? I mean, really?”

“What do you mean?” he hissed.

“Did you watch it?” Dick persisted. “The video?”

“What- I- no, I just-” Jason spluttered, caught off guard.

“You can't lie to me, Jason,” Dick gave him a mischievous smile, “You like her, too. That's why you're pushing her away. Because you don't think you're good enough for her.”

Fuck Dick and his fucking superior detective skills.

“She's too young for me,” Jason simply stated.

“Well, apparently not too young for Roy,” Dick smirked.

“What-” Jason turned around and looked outside.

You were in the pool, standing in the corner. You had a hand on Roy’s chest, looking up at him and laughing. He had a hand on your waist, and was whispering something into your ear.

Jason went into a fit of rage when he saw Roy touching you.

“Mother fucker,” Jason swore, and without thinking, went straight to where you were. He stood there at the edge of the pool, arms crossed, and looking down at the two of you who were both unaware of his presence.

“Roy,” Jason growled.

Roy jumped and looked at Jason in panic, and as if you electrocuted him, immediately jumped away from your touch.

“H-hey, Jaybird,” he awkwardly laughed, “I was just- I was- uh- I was telling her about what a great friend you were.”

“Oh, really?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah!” he nodded vigorously, “Jason here is super good with his aim as well. Could even rival mine.”

Jason ignored Roy, and glared at you, who was looking up at him with obviously fake innocent eyes.

“Out,” he commanded.

“What?”

“I said out,” he repeated. “Out of the pool. I need to talk to you.”

“Oh, come on, Jason,” you started to whine, but then stopped when you saw his expression.

You climbed out of the pool, and again, Jason had to avert his eyes. Without sparing a glance at you, he gripped you by the arm and pulled you to go inside.

“Ow! Jason, let go, fucking cocksucker!” you cried.

He snatched a towel from Tim’s grip as he walked, ignoring Tim’s protests and stares from others, and then threw it on top of your head.

“Ugh- Jason!” you complained. He continued to lead you inside the manor, up the stairs, and to his old room.

He slammed the door shut behind him.

“What's the big deal, you shitpouch?! Who do you fucking think you are? Fucking cumwipe, pisswizard, cuntpuddle...”

That wasn't the end of your swearing. You went on for another good minute of words that could make Batman blush, before stopping.

You were fuming. Your face red, your expression twisted into a scowl, water dripping all over the wooden floors, the fluffy towel around your neck that you hadn't used.

God, you were so hot when you were angry.

“You done?” he deadpanned. He sensed that you were going to go into another stream of name calling, so he cut you off.

“I told you to forget Roy,” he grit.

“And since when have I ever done what you told me to do?” you shot at him

You had a point.

“Look, kid-”

“I'm not a fucking kid, Jason!” you yelled at him for the first time, “I haven't been a kid since my dad- since I was twelve!”

Jason suddenly felt pain in his chest.

“I know you've been through shit,” Jason acknowledged, “What happened with your dad and your brother- I’m fucking glad I killed them. And even if I hadn’t back then, I would have broken every single rule and hunt them down and make them suffer before ending their lives after finding out what they did to you. Hell, before you told me that they were dead, I was already ready to turn every single rock to find them.”

Your expression softened at that.

“And I know you had to grow up fast,” he continued, “All of us who lived there did. But you're out of that now. You don't have to fucking try so hard to act older than you are anymore.”

Your eyes shone with anger once more.

“That's the thing you never got, Jason,” you spat, “I'm not trying. I never did. This is who I am.”

You were looking at him with such fierce intensity that Jason almost forgot how to breathe.

Because you were right. He had gone through the same process where he was made to grow up fast, where he couldn’t afford to act like a kid.

He looked at you, trying not to show much emotion on his face.

Somehow in the heat of the argument and you yelling cusses at him, the two of you had gotten closer to each other, and Jason could even see the tears brimming in your eyes that were threatening to spill.

He immediately felt like a piece of shit, like every word you called him. He never wanted to hurt you.

“Whatever,” Jason huffed, looking away to avoid your glare, “Just stay away from Roy.”

“Why, you two dating or something?” you smirked.

He simply glared at you. You obviously had recovered from your anger and was now back to your usual snarky self.

“Or,” you began, “You were jealous.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Jason objected, “Why would I be jealous?”

“Because,” you drawled, walking closer to him, “You like me.”

Jason had backed up each time you walked to him, and before he knew it his back was hitting the door.

Fuck, he hated how much you affected him. You had him backed up against the fucking door, for fuck’s sake.

To get a semblance of power back, he stared at you straight in the eye, unblinking, and leaned closer to you.

“You wish,” he said coldly.

He noticed that your breath stuttered, and a blush creeped up your cheeks.

Then, he leaned back and smirked.

“Oh, no you don't,” you shook your head, “You think you can win this game, Todd?”

“Unlike you, I'm not playing a game.”

“But yes you are, Jay,” you placed your palms flat on his chest, “You’ve been playing hard to get with me.”

“Playing hard to get is only used when the other person actually wants you,” he scoffed.

He didn't know why, but he was sweating. His respiratory rate had gone up, and shit.

Shit.

He could feel his dick getting filled up.

Maybe it was how close you were to him, maybe it was the fact that you were half naked in front of him with all the privacy he could have asked for.

Maybe it was the fact that it was you who had him in a corner instead of the other way round.

“I'm not a fucking idiot, Jay. Batman trained me, too. I've seen how you look at me and I’ve seen how you tried not to.”

Fuck.

“Your pupils dilate, your breathing gets faster, you start to sweat,” you went on, “And then suddenly you excuse yourself. You run away.”

Your hands went up to his shoulders, and your body was now against his, getting his clothes wet. He could smell the chlorine on you when you leaned into his ear and whispered.

“You fucking coward,” you breathed.

Jason's breath hitched and he had to squeeze his eyes shut. He pressed his palms against the door behind him to restrain himself from touching you, grabbing you, squeezing you, slapping you.

Jason knew he was fully hard now, because it was getting painful.

Suddenly, the pressure and heat of your body against his own disappeared. He opened his eyes.

But sucked in a breath when he saw that you were on your knees in front of him, eye level to his crotch, the tent in his pants mere inches away from your lips.

“What the fuck are you- mmpf,” he threw his head back, hitting the door.

You had gripped his shaft hard, sending a pulse of pleasure through his body.

No. Jason had to stop this. He couldn't go through with this. He shouldn't.

“You want me to suck your cock, Jay?” You purred.

Jason swallowed hard, just trying his best to restrain himself.

He remained silent for a beat. And then-

“Do whatever you want,” he managed to choke out.

You showed him a winning grin, and then unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, pulling down his jeans.

You started to mouth his length through the fabric of his boxers, getting it translucent with your spit. He had never been so horny in his entire life.

As much as Jason’s head was screaming at him, telling him to stop you, telling him how inappropriate it was, he didn’t have the strength to voice it out.

He wanted to tell you to stop teasing him, to hurry up and put your mouth around his cock already, but again, it was like he had lost his voice.

He was utterly conflicted, so he opt to just stay silent.

You hooked your fingers in the waistband of his briefs and then pulled it down, revealing his cock to you. He hissed slightly at the relief.

Jason wanted to remember your expression the minute you saw his cock forever, he wanted to burn it in his brain and immortalize it. Your eyes had gone rounder, your mouth popped open with a gasp, and your excitement grew.

“It’s everything that I’ve dreamed about and more,” you fluttered your eyes dramatically before gripping his shaft and licking one long, steady stripe from the base to his tip.

Jason bit his lip to muffle his groan.

You licked him again, and again, and then started to swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, tracing your tongue around the sulcus underneath his head.

Fuck, you were so fucking good at teasing him, and making him squirm.

He looked down at you, and you were looking up through your long lashes, eyes almost innocent. And then, you took him in his mouth, going all the way down.

“Fuck,” Jason gasped.

You immediately built a rhythm, the most perfect rhythm that he liked. It was suspicious how you knew his preference, and at the back of his head he made a mental reminder to check his room for hidden cameras.

You provided him with the right amount of tongue, the right amount of suction, the right amount of teeth gently grazing him from time to time that he swore could have drove him insane.

Your mouth was soft, and warm, and wet, and before he knew it, he was ready to fucking explode.

As if you were familiar with his expressions, you picked up the pace and started sucking even harder each time you bobbed your head. Jason felt his balls tighten, the heat spreading to his toes and making them tingle.

“Fuck- I’m gonna- I’m gonna-” he rasped.

And then he released with sudden explosion into your mouth, going through a sensory overdrive because as he was releasing, he could still feel you sucking him dry and swallowing.

When he was done, you released his cock with a pop and a grin.

Jason had to catch his breath for a while, because it was the best head he had ever received in his entire life, and he had managed to keep his hands off you the entire time.

“You made me jealous on purpose,” he panted.

“Duh,” you stood up after politely zipping him back up, putting your hands on your waist so fucking proudly, like a power stance.

“Where the hell did you learn how to suck cock that good?” he interrogated.

“You’ve lived in Titans Tower before,” you winked, “You should know.”

He didn’t like that. He didn’t like that statement and implication one bit.

“This can’t,” he started, “We can’t-”

“This can’t happen again?” you finished for him, rolling your eyes. “Typical. Just get over yourself already, Jason. It gets tiring.”

“I’m no good for you,” he avoided your eyes.

“You say that right after coming into my mouth,” you scoffed, “Sure.”

He clenched his jaw. You were right. He was trash for doing that to you, defiling you like that.

Jason must have let his emotions leak, because you suddenly added, “What I meant was, we’ve already crossed that line. We don’t have to go back to how it was before. I like you, Jason. And I know you like me, too.”

“That doesn’t matter,” he muttered, “This was a mistake. We can’t do this again. I’m sorry. Just stay away from me.”

He left.

***

He had avoided you for a long time after that.

Months went by, and he ignored your texts and your calls. Even the knockings outside his door. He had made sure to upgrade his security, with both Tim and Roy’s help so you couldn’t break in again.

When he went on patrols with everyone else, he made sure you couldn’t catch him alone, so he arrived at the very latest, and left at the very soonest, never exchanging more than a few words with you.

And every time, it killed him. He saw the hurt flash in your eyes every time he left quickly, he noticed that you had texted him less and less as the months went on, and eventually came to a complete stop.

You had even stopped calling him those weird, creative swear names that he loved so much.

Jason finally won. He had managed to get you to give up on him.

But hell did it make him feel like absolute shit.

Eight months had passed by, and he was getting ready for the event he had absolutely been dreading. It was your 18th birthday party that Bruce had used as an excuse to host a charity gala at the manor.

Jason thought it was a dick move for him to take advantage of your birthday for the sake of his own gain, but apparently you had been more than supportive over it, understanding Bruce’s position as one of Gotham’s elite.

He didn’t want to go. He couldn’t bear to face you again where you could pull him somewhere private to talk to him. But Dick and Tim had convinced him.

It was your birthday after all.

When he arrived, everyone was staring at him.

Well, he was wearing just a leather jacket over a black shirt and a pair of dark denim jeans after all.

“You couldn’t have dressed for the occasion, Jason?” he heard Tim approach him from behind.

Tim was sporting a suit, just like everyone else.

“Couldn’t be bothered,” he shrugged, “What’s the agenda?”

“Mingling, dinner, speeches, more mingling,” Tim listed down, “Typical charity ball. The others are at the tents. We should get going.”

“I’m the dead son, remember?” he pointed out, “I don’t need to sit with you guys.”

“We’ll introduce you as Dick’s boyfriend or something, come on,” Tim gestured.

“Oh, the media would love that,” Jason muttered under his breath and went along.

The banquet area was set outside in the backyard of the Manor, where tents with clear plastic canopies were propped up, decorated with fairy lights. Since it was spring, the weather was cool enough for suits and warm enough for strapless dresses.

The main tent had a stage where a band was playing classical music- typical tunes you would hear at any other fucking gala.

Each table seated ten, and Tim had brought Jason to a table closest to the stage where he saw Dick, Bruce, and you were already seated with four others. He recognized the Mayor, the Commissioner, Lucius Fox, and a middle aged woman with greying hair he didn’t recognize with who Jason presumed was her husband.

Jason avoided looking at you, but he knew that you were staring right at him. Tim took a seat, and Jason cursed softly when he realised that the only other seat available was in between you and Dick.

Looking straight ahead, he calmly sat down. From the corner of his eye and from a portion of what he could make out, he saw that you were wearing a midnight blue dress, and a silver bracelet around your wrist which you rested on the table.

Bruce had started to converse with the guests, and Dick and Tim were having a banter amongst themselves.

“Hey,” he heard your voice.

“Happy birthday,” he mumbled.

“Thanks,” you replied.

And that was that. The two of you remained silent, with Jason occasionally checking his phone and still avoiding looking at you.

“It’s time for our speech,” Jason heard Bruce whisper to you.

He heard you get up and shuffled to the stage. He was hardly paying attention during Bruce’s welcome speech.

“...and then, the woman of the hour, my lovely daughter,” Bruce introduced you. The audience broke out in applause. Jason still hadn’t turned your way.

“Hello, everyone,” he heard your uncharacteristically nervous and shy voice over the sound system. He took a sip of wine. “T-thank coming for you all- uh- I mean-”

The audience laughed, but not in mockery. Jason couldn’t help but look at you now.

He accidentally inhaled his wine, and ended up trying to cover his coughing fits.

Up on stage, where the spotlight was on you, he had noticed your midnight blue dress had small sparkling stars on them, making you seem like you were wearing the clear night sky. Your hair was done in a simple graceful updo, which exposed your neck that he noticed was flushed, a blush creeping up to your cheeks at your own embarrassment.

Your eyes were wide in panic, and you kept on playing with your thumbs subconsciously.

His breath stuttered, because he thought you were the most beautiful creature he had ever laid his eyes on.

You were usually so snarky, so full of confidence, and wit with a mouth that could make a sailor blush- but there you were spluttering all over the microphone, a blushing mess. And hell, did that make Jason’s chest tighten in yearning for you.

“I’m sorry, I’m not used to crowds like my father is,” you tried to laugh it off, “Here, let’s try again.”

Despite your fumbles, you had a certain charm on stage that made everyone just like you.

“Thank you all for coming to my eighteenth birthday party,” you started, “I must admit, at first I wanted my party to be small and intimate. But I realised that this celebration could be used for something good instead.”

Another round of claps.

“I come from a very… humbling area in Gotham. I’m sure we’re all familiar with Crime Alley,” you stated, confidence growing as you got used to being on stage, “It was hard, living as a child in the streets. But I got lucky. Bruce Wayne found me.”

“Being the daughter of Bruce Wayne has taught me a lot about understanding and acknowledging my own privilege and using it to help others. Growing up there, myself and many other children were faced with the harsh reality of poverty and abandonment. Therefore, I would like to announce that I have started a foundation called Wayne’s Foundation for Children of Hope, where all proceeds will go to the development of Crime Alley.”

You paused and smiled at the flashing cameras of the media and waited for the applause to die down.

“Our first initiative is to build a home for lost children aged eighteen and under, to provide shelter, basic healthcare, food, and education. The primary goal of these shelters is to help kids find a place where they belong, and to help set them back on the right track. These kids also have the option to maintain anonymity for cases that involve abusive environments.”

Jason was looking at you in awe. You were standing proudly at the podium, graceful in your posture, a fierce intensity in your eyes- all previous nervousness completely gone.

Next to him, Dick leaned in and whispered, “It was all her idea, you know. Every single plan for this foundation, even the future plans she hadn’t mentioned. All hers.”

Jason remained silent and watched as you continued your speech.

“But the truth is,” you smiled sadly, “It’s still not enough. The situation in a lot of areas in Gotham is painfully swept under the rug. But hopefully with this, people like us can make things a little better for them. If you’d like to donate to the foundation, it would mean a lot to me, and to the other kids who had to grow up too fast.”

You made eye contact with Jason at that last statement, causing his heart to suddenly drum faster.

The crowd broke in a loud applause and you thanked them graciously, waving as you stepped down from the podium to take your seat.

This time, Jason didn’t take his eyes off you.

“That was great!” Tim gave you a thumbs up, “You did great!”

“Well done,” Dick grinned.

Jason took your hand and gave it a little squeeze, just smiling at you in silence. You looked at him with obvious shock, and then grinned back.

“Beautiful, Ms. Wayne,” the Mayor sitting across from you beamed, “You’ve taken after your father’s charms.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mayor,” you nodded, “But I’d like to think that my charms are my own.”

Jason had to bite back a laugh when he saw the man turn red.

He was somehow more relaxed now, even sparing occasional glances at you as you conversed with others. The dance floor was now open, and the guests had left their seats to mingle with others. The MC also announced that the bar was open.

“That’s my cue,” Jason winked at you, and then went straight to the bar to get himself something strong. From there, he just leaned back and watched how the disgustingly rich people made themselves feel better about themselves by donating the occasional couple of million dollars. Soon enough, he got sick of the pearls and diamond earrings, the solid gold watches.

He checked his own battered and scratched Swiss Army watch he had lifted from a drug lord many years ago. He should be going back soon. It wasn’t like he was needed there anyway. He had already wished you and made peace.

“What do you think?” he heard your voice approach him.

He turned and saw you come up next to him.

“Too fancy for my taste,” he started, “Looks like it took you a whole hour just to get into the damn thing. And those shoes? Looks like the crowbar was less painful than walking around in that.”

It took you a couple of seconds before realising that he was talking about your outfit.

“I meant the foundation, you fucknugget,” you hissed.

“Be careful there, sweetheart,” he raised an eyebrow, “Don’t want these people hearing you speak like that. You’ll lose your charm.”

“I don’t know how Bruce does it,” you shook your head, “It’s so exhausting.”

Jason hummed back at you as a comfortable silence fell. The two of you leaning back against the bar and just watching the crowd.

“I think it’s a great idea,” he finally said.

“Thanks,” you pursed your lips, “I kept on thinking of you, you know? When we were coming up with the plans. Was wondering what you would think of it.”

“You’re making it sound like I’m the only one from there.”

“Well, you’re the only one who would understand,” you explained, “The others, of course they empathized. But they wouldn’t understand. Not like how you and I do.”

And Jason realised that it was that factor that probably drew you close to him when you first came to them, the fact that Jason understood at more than just a superficial level how shit your life was before coming to the manor. It was a painful past that only the two of you shared, and only the two of you could talk about.

Silence fell again.

“I’m sorry,” you suddenly brought up.

“For what?” he frowned.

“For making you uncomfortable for so long,” you whispered, “I don’t know why I did it. I guess I liked your reactions. And I guess I just wanted your attention. And during that pool party- I- I thought-”

Jason waited for you to finish your sentence.

“Nevermind,” you looked away, “Forget it. I just wanted to say sorry. I crossed the line. After you stopped talking to me, I just. I don’t want that. So I’ll stop, okay? You don’t have to avoid me anymore.”

He turned around to face you.

“I stopped talking to you not because I was mad at you,” he told you, “I stopped talking to you because I was mad at myself.”

You faced him with curious eyes.

“I thought- well- fuck,” it was Jason’s turn to splutter. He took a deep breath and started again. “I thought that it was a real shit move for me to do what I did to you.”

“Wait, what?” you questioned, “What you did to me?”

“Yeah,” he grumbled, “You know. That.”

“Jason, I was the one who practically jumped you,” you scoffed, “I basically forced it on you. Why are you blaming yourself?”

“Force me? Pfftsh, you couldn’t force me to do anything.”

“Jason.”

“I liked it, okay?” he threw his arms up, “I didn’t stop you because I liked it, and I shouldn’t have liked it. I was taking advantage of you. It was wrong of me to do so.”

“God, you’re so fucking stupid,” you laughed, “I’ve been pining over you since Bruce told me you were… You know who.”

You lowered your voice.

“Want to talk inside?” he offered.

“Good idea,” you agreed.

The two of you made your way past the garden and into the manor.

“Is it okay for the birthday girl to disappear from her own party?” he smirked when he closed the door to Bruce’s study, which was the nearest room that offered privacy.

“Oh, please,” you waved your hand and sat on Bruce’s desk, “The whole party was never about me. I’m just another excuse for those cuntflaps to show off their new diamonds.”

He chuckled. “Anyway, you were saying? Something about Bruce telling me I was Red Hood?”

“Yeah,” you bit your lip in nervousness, “I’ve had a crush on you since then.”

“Really?”

Jason knew that you obviously had a crush on him, especially because of the neverending teasing and seductions, but he didn’t know it stemmed from that long ago.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I remember thinking to myself, like wow. This is the guy who killed them. And you know what? You looked exactly like how I thought you would.”

“What? How so?”

“Huge,” you started, “Scars everywhere. Grouchy as hell.”

“I’m not as grouchy as Bruce,” he defended himself.

“Still,” you chuckled, “You looked exactly like how I imagined my hero to look.”

“Super hot, sexy, and good looking?” he joked.

He had expected you to roll your eyes and throw an insult at him, but you just tightened your lips and looked away.

“Look, k- sweetheart,” he stopped himself from calling you a kid. From what he saw on the stage earlier, you were already so much better than he was. “I’m going to be honest, alright? And you better damn well appreciate it, because I’m never honest.”

You giggled softly. He walked to stand in front of you at the desk.

“I think you’re great,” he stated, “And I think you’re beautiful, and sexy. And…”

He hesitated, thinking of whether or not to continue.

Fuck it. He might as well.

“And I like you,” he forced out, “More than you know. Fuck, I like you. I like you so much it fucking hurts sometimes.”

You looked up at him with hopeful, glistening eyes.

“But I’m no good for you,” he repeated what he said all those months ago, “I can never do what you just did. Start a fucking charity on your birthday and announce it to the world as if it was nothing. Fuck, I don’t think I should even be seen walking around next to you when you look like that. I’m a fucking mess, sweetie. You don’t want that.”

He saw as you digest what he had just said. Then, you looked up at him and asked, “What do you think I want?”

“What do I think?” he repeated.

You nodded.

“I think you should be with someone who’s closer to your age, for one,” he rolled his eyes, “And someone who doesn’t have scars all over their face. Someone who isn’t grouchy. Someone charming who can stand next to you on stage wearing a proper suit and tie.”

“You’re right,” you nodded, “I should be with someone like that.”

Jason felt a pang in his chest at your agreement.

“But I don’t want to be with someone like that,” you continued, “I want to be with someone who was ready to hunt down and hurt the people who terrorized me for years. I want to be with someone whose face is littered with scars as proof that they went through just as much shit as I did and survived.”

You hopped from the desk and stood up straight, stretching your hand up to cup Jason’s face. He leaned into the warmth of your caress, his breath hitching at the close contact. His hands automatically went to rest on your waist, still respectfully high.

“I want you, Jason,” you whispered, pulling him down to your lips, “I want someone who can handle my bites.”

To demonstrate, you sucked in his lower lip, eliciting a low moan from him.

And then you bit down hard.

He gasped at the stinging pain, and then sighed when you massaged his lip with yours. Heat suddenly spread throughout his body, particularly at his member which was growing hard fast. He could smell the wine on your breath that you must have snuck a few sips from, the vanilla lotion you always wore, and a new particularly enticing perfume that you must have gotten for the occasion.

“I want someone who can call me a little bitch straight to my face,” Jason felt you grin against his lips.

The two of you were kissing now, harsh and forceful, as if deprived of touch. Fuck, he loved how you were nipping at his lips and his tongue, tugging his hair lightly.

Both of you gasped for air, and just stood there foreheads against each other, his erection pressed against your stomach, your hands around his neck.

“I want someone who is resourceful enough to enhance his home security to make sure I don’t break in and fuck myself with his weapons again,” you chuckled.

“Was it…” he started, “Was it loaded?”

“You bet it was,” you smiled.

“Fuck,” he swore and then crashed his lips against yours again. He lifted you up to sit on the desk, and then stood in between your open thighs. At the slightly elevated level, he could properly grind his erection against your pussy, still covered by your dress.

“You liked that?” you giggled, “I thought you weren’t into that. I got a bit worried.”

“Hell yeah, I liked that,” he rasped, “What kind of sane man wouldn’t?”

He started to nibble on the skin on your neck, sucking and biting and licking

“I’m pretty sure not everyone is into the thought of fucking a loaded gun into a pussy,” you laughed, “Which proves my point. You and me? We’re perfect, Jay- fuck, don’t leave any marks, dumbass.”

“Point taken, baby.”

“Mmm, call me that again,” you moaned.

He stopped nibbling on your neck, brought his eyes to yours, and with a defiant smirk, he said, “No.”

It was like Jason saw the switch in you flick on, because you suddenly pushed him away aggressively. He stumbled, not expecting it.

“Oh, you think you’re in control, Todd?” you purred, twisting your fists in his leather jacket. You were shorter than him, and your frame much smaller. But Jason just loved the authority that radiated from you.

“You think you’re the one who has power over me?” you drawled, pulling him to the side where Bruce had set up a leather sofa and a coffee table.

“When all this while, I’m the one who had you wrapped around my finger?” you snarled, and then pushed him down on the sofa.

Before Jason could even register what was happening, you were already on top of him, straddling him. He looked up at you, the pressure of your weight on his crotch making him pant with want.

“So are you going to call me baby again?” you asked sweetly, tugging at his jacket to remove it.

“Maybe in due time,” he gasped when you bit the flesh that connected his neck and shoulder hard.

Fuck, he was throbbing in his pants.

You took off his shirt and ran your hand down his body. Jason smirked when he saw you bite your lip as you took in his figure.

He still had a bit of fight left in him, and he wasn’t going to beg.

Yet.

“Why must you be so stubborn, Todd?” you breathed, teeth catching at his earlobe and biting. You were rocking your hips against his erection, and he swore that if you didn’t take it out, he was going to rip a hole in his pants with it.

“H-hey, you’ve always been the pushy one,” he stuttered.

“That’s because I like to get what I want,” you pinched his nipples hard.

“Fuck!” he yelped at the sudden pain, and then glared at you as you just grinned cheekily. “I don’t know why I never took you for a sadist before this.”

“Because you’re an idiot, Jay,” you teased, “All I did was torture you.”

“Yes, you did,” he rested his hands on your hips, motioning for you to grind on him harder, “You made me so fucking hard on purpose, and then I had to go back and jerk off to you, which made it worse because I felt so fucking guilty after.”

“That was your own fault,” you frowned. You were finally, finally unbuckling his belt. “You saw me as a kid when I wasn’t.”

“You were still underaged, you brat,” he laughed, “It didn’t matter if you were wise beyond your years- ah, fuck yeah.”

You had finally unzipped him, releasing him from the constraints of his denim.

“Take everything off for me, Jay,” you demanded, sitting up on your knees to give him room to do so.

He listened to you happily, glad to be rid of his clothes. His cock slapped against his lower abdomen, already leaking so much precum.

“Why am I the only one naked?” he voiced out his displeasure.

“Because it took me twenty minutes to get into this dress, and I’m not undressing for anyone before the night is over,” you announced.

“But, baby,” he pouted, rejoicing at how he made your breath hitch, and rested his chin between your breasts, “I want to see your tits.”

You frowned and bit your lip as you looked down at him, considering his plea. He made a mental reminder that you must like dirty talk.

“Then make sure you don’t go home so early tonight,” you managed to choke out.

Jason thought that you also must have liked to be the submissive one, as well.

You leaned into him and kissed him again, this time less rough. He moaned into your mouth, slipping his tongue in as he grabbed your hips and tried to rub his cock against your pussy, underneath your dress. He gasped when he felt that you were already bare, and leaking.

“What happened to your- your panties?” he rasped.

“Long gone,” you winked.

“Fuck, you fucking nymph,” he chuckled, and then groaned when you started to slide the head of his cock between your wet lips.

“Jason, I’ve wanted your cock so bad,” you muttered into his ear as you rubbed your slick all over his length, “You’ve no idea how many times I’ve fucked myself with- with whatever I could find, pretending it was you.”

“Fuck, baby,” he whined, throwing his head back against the couch. Your dirty mouth was doing so many things to him, he was worried that he was going to come right there and then.

“After that time I sucked you off?” you continued, “All I wanted was to choke on it, Jay. I just want your dick in my throat.”

You lifted your hips and sank down onto him. Both of you groaned lowly in pleasure. Fuck, you were so tight, and warm, and wet, and oh so soft.

“Ah! Jason!” you cried out when he bottomed out, “Fuck, I’m going to feel you for fucking days.”

“Shit, baby,” he choked, “Baby, please. Please, move.”

“You want me to move?” you teased.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“How would you like me to move, Jay?” you smiled.

“Any- I don’t care-”

“Nice, and slow like this?” you lifted your hips up, and Jason could feel the torturously slow drag of your walls against his shaft, even as you sanked back down you were slow.

“Hnng- fuck-” Jason mewled, lost for words. “Please.”

It was all he could say.

“Or hard and fast like this?” you slammed your hips down, and started bouncing on his cock at a brutal pace that knocked his breath out.

“Fuck!” he yelled, “Fuck, baby, fuck!”

You weren’t being any softer as well. Through tear-filled hazy eyes, Jason saw your eyes fluttered close in pleasure, your mouth falling open as you cried out wanton moans, and gasped, and groaned for him.

“Jason! Fuck, Jay, fuck!”

He couldn’t take it anymore.

He gripped your hips hard, and then started to fuck himself up into you, matching your pace, making you fucking scream.

He could feel your walls tighten around his cock, the same time you started whining, “Jason, Jason, I’m gonna- I’m gonna-”

“Me too, sweetheart, me too,” he gasped.

“Come inside me, Jason, please!” you sobbed.

“But-”

“Just- just- please, please, please,” you squeezed your eyes shut and threw your head back.

Jason felt your pussy clench tight onto him, triggering his own orgasm. He released inside you while still fucking you hard, trying to prolong both of your highs.

Soon, he was oversensitive, the feeling of your walls almost painful. You calmed down, still panting above him, and he just couldn’t help but stare at you in amazement.

“Holy shit,” you giggled above him, “Holy shit, that was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“Uh- I,” he panicked, “I came inside of you, fuck!”

“I’m on the pill, don’t worry,” you smiled, “Fuck, I just. I just wanted to walk around after this with my panties soaked in your cum.”

“How the fuck are you eighteen and already so fucking kinky,” he groaned.

You only laughed and slowly lifted yourself off of him. He hissed at the movement, feeling hypersensitive at every touch.

You went to look for your panties, which Jason noticed were a lacy black, and then put them on under your dress.

He was still sprawled out on the sofa naked, sweaty, and well spent.

“I also didn’t want any of your spunk to get on my dress,” you told him.

“S’pretty dress,” he mumbled back to you.

“You should get dressed, Jay,” you walked towards him, hands on your hips.

“Do I need to get back out there?” he complained, “Can’t I just wait in your room?”

“If you get dressed and attend the party, I’ll let you fuck me with one of your guns,” you promised.

“Really?” his eyes widen, and then he jumped back up to put on his clothes.

“I gotta tell you something, though,” you started.

“What is it?” he hummed, tucking his black shirt into his jeans.

“The safety was on,” you said, “On the gun, I mean. It was loaded, but the safety was on.”

“Oh, baby,” he looked at you seriously, “If you told me the safety was off, I would have shot you myself for being so stupid.”

You giggled.

He gave you his arm. “Shall we?”

“Yes, we shall,” you took it. “By the way.”

“What?”

“Are you going to switch back to a more lax security?”

“And have you breaking in again? You wish, kid.”