#time has escaped us so much and there’s a lot emotionally going on that. dressing up for Halloween was not something my brain could account

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Project R AU where Danny is a clone created from the DNA of all the Robins past and present by the drs Fenton when they were teenagers.

Upon realizing the child they had made was going to be used as a weapon for evil they quickly and quietly packed up thier family and belongings and jumped ship to a new dimention with the kid after putting him in stasis so he was essentially frozen in time.

Later on little Jazz finds the baby in the tank and assumes the stork had made a delivery and flips the switch to release him from stasis so he can finish growing. A week later the pod beeps and she brings him out of the storage room as a chubby healthy baby and her parents loose thier minds for a bit.

Danny grows up normally...well not really but you get what I mean. Maddie makes sure Danny knows how to fight and wouldn't take no for an answer. No matter how much Danny complained that he wanted to play video games, go to the park with his friends or that Jazz didn't have to fight, she would never relent. Maddie knows she's nowhere near the level of a fully trained assasin but she wanted to give Danny every leg up she could.

She knew he would need it. Call it a mothers intuition.

Well, crap happens. Vlad outs Danny as Phantom and it ends very poorly for the wannabe vampire. Danny escapes into the GZ but just barely and is forced to leave his old life behind but not before Jazz tells him about what she had recently learned about Project: R.

The portals are destroyed and Danny flees to his home dimension in search of his fathers. Unfortunately when he gets there he learns most of his fathers are dead, only Damian Al Ghul and Jason Todd remaining, both having very strained relationships with thier own father Bruce Wayne and everything has gone to crap.

Theres an evil dictator in red and blue ruling the world and they're the reason two of his dads are dead. So he decides to rip the symbol off his chest, put on a mask and make his big debut as Phantom.

How you may ask?

By killing the evil Superman and his cronies on live television and announcing that he's the child of Project: R and what that means.

Damian finds Phantom in Bludhaven looking for him and asking him to take him in only to get refused. Damian fears that Bruce might try to turn Danny against him so is hesitant to get close emotionally.

Jason has no such concerns and scoops him up before Bruce can dress him like a traffic light. They then have the superhero talk and Phantom says he wants to be a anti-hero not a superhero. He already tried that one and it sucked so much. Jason definitely didn't like the fact his kid had been a superhero at any point but finding out pretty much all the adults in Dannys life had failed him so hard made Jay fly into a rage.

Bruce tries to go for custody but fails. Dannys doesn't like how the Titans treat Damian so he steals all the ABBA cds from the tower and makes off like a thief in the night. When they discover this they flip out because those were Dicks and they became practically sacred after he died.

Danny decided to cause problems on purpose. Such acts include:

1. Turning all the furniture in the common rooms of the Titans Tower into hyper realistic cake so when they sat on it/tried to turn on the TV, ect they'd be in for a suprise.

2. Stealing all the tires off of every vehicle Bruce owned and giving them to Jason/whoever was down on thier luck and couldn't afford to change thier tires. Danny says he has "a legacy to uphold" while balancing on the top of on of the tires as he runs it across Gotham

3. Torments Black Mask and Slade. Somehow all thier homes and safe houses are filled with beans. Yes, beans. Whenever they are in Gotham they get beaned in the face with a pickle. (This is worse for BM cause ya'know)

They have no idea whos doing this or why.

Ras Al Ghul is not amused by the pickleing but does not get beanified cause Danny doesn't know where most of his places are so he gets A LOT of pickles thrown at him every chance Danny gets.

4. Danny decides Damian requires lots of snuggles and just turns intangible whenever Damian tries to pry him off. Multiple people keep comparing him to Dick and its starting to get on Dannys nerves. He has three other dads to compare him to and Dick isn't even the only dead one! What about Tim??? He wants to learn about Tim! He demands his fathers tell him about themselves and Tim

[no-psi-nan]

Vampire Akechi AU

Akechi x Aiura + Saiki & all of his friends (shenanigans), inspired by convo w/ @oatmealcrisp-freak, thank u!!)

Aiura notices that when she's getting her blood drawn, the cute lil friendly blond phlebotomist takes two vials of blood when she knows she's only getting tested for one thing. Since he found her vein easily and is incredibly chatty, she lets it go.

However, the next time she needs blood drawn, Akechi takes her into his room almost as soon as she signs in even though she's early for her appointment. He's friendly and chatty again, and when she asks why he pulled her in right away, he says that he remembers her cute face and tricky veins, and fears that the other less-competent staff might get distracted and miss the vein.

Aiura is mollified and forgets to check the tubes until the end of the appointment, when she sees the two tubes in the holder again. Instead of leaving the room, she shuts the door behind her and asks Akechi why there's an extra vial.

Akechi immediately starts to sweat, or whatever the vampire equivalent is. Aiura can see his bright aura and can't imagine him being evil. Akechi apologizes for his greed - normally he only takes a little extra blood in the syringe from each patient instead of a whole vial, but Aiura's blood is so delicious and the pickings have been slimmer ever since the lab administration stopped accepting walk-ins and changed some of their offerings.

Another patient starts to enter the room, and they startle. Akechi hands Aiura one of his personal calling cards (for his private detective side-hustle) and says she can call him anytime after hours for more discussion. She already knows where he works, after all.

Afterwards, when Aiura does call him, she asks if he drank that second vial of blood. He admits that he did, reasoning that he couldn't very well return it, and there was no need for the extra blood for her medical tests, so he drank it. He can't help but enthuse about how much more delicious her blood was this time with the extra iron, and thanks her profusely for the meal.

Curious, Aiura asks if he'd meet her at a café. He agrees and suggests lunch. She's surprised he can go out during the day, and he reminds her that they met at the lab during the day. He just dresses formally to cover as much skin as possible, then uses his own custom sunscreen and sunglasses and a hat when he's outside. He still can't be out in the sun for too long, but it's enough for him to get from his car to inside a building and back. If the sunscreen has worn off, he retreats to a bathroom to apply more before heading out.

Akechi ends up ordering a latte and Aiura is surprised to see him actually drinking it. He explains that he can drink any liquid and that whole milk is actually a really good supplement to blood since it includes lots of fat and protein in it, but blood is what he can digest the best, and the less blood he drinks, the more corpse-like he becomes. No blood for long enough and he'll be unable to go out in the day at all, and he'll be super low on energy and brainpower.

Akechi tries to only take blood as ethically as he can, and at the smallest amount for him to be comfortable. If he were to properly fill up on blood, he could use the full gamut of vampire powers. As it is, he can only perform hypnosis on a single person if he really concentrates, and he can turn into his small bat form to escape a situation.

Aiura is curious about the other vampire powers but Akechi shrugs and says that the other powers are most useful for combat. He's not in the business of fighting anyone, so drinking more blood would only make him feel physically full and more comfortable, but also feel poorly emotionally if it wasn't ethically sourced. Should another vampire that was less careful about consumption enter Akechi's territory, then he would consider fueling up to get rid of the other one. But even then, in that case it would be a better tactical choice to let Saiki fill up on that blood to go on the offense.

Aiura's surprised that there are other vampires, though she supposes she shouldn't be. Akechi tells her that Saiki is the one who turned him. Aiura wonders if Saiki has power over Akechi due to turning him, and Akechi laughs. Saiki had never been able to control Akechi before, and that hasn't changed after death.

Saiki's the kind of vampire that was born that way and whose aging slows to a stop over time. He was probably born like 20 years before Akechi but their development synced up really well at once point and they became best friends.

At first, Akechi would beg to be turned into a vampire, but Saiki would refuse, not wanting him to suffer as he does. Eventually as Akechi gets older, he accepts his mortality and his ability to feed Saiki with his blood, and stops asking to be turned. However, in his early 30s Akechi is diagnosed with a terminal illness, and Saiki is consumed with grief at the thought of losing his only friend. When Akechi is unconscious on the hospital bed, close to death, Saiki loses control and turns him into a vampire.

Saiki considers this the height of selfishness, but Akechi is very happy to be practically alive and very well. He adjusts quickly to vampirism and soon figures out easy and ethical ways to get blood.

However, Saiki really tries to not drink blood so that he 1) doesn't hurt anyone and 2) doesn't get all his powers flooding back. Akechi cajoles him into having some blood whenever he thinks Saiki is too low on it, but Saiki still spends a lot of his time motionless in the dark.

Until Nendo breaks into Saiki's house and decides this spooky vampire mansion is free real estate. The sheer indignity has Saiki so mad that he bites Nendo without thinking and has his first proper sip in a long long time. This doesn't seem to bother Nendo at all, and he happily moves in to the mansion. Saiki will never admit it, but he does actually enjoy how Nendo livens up the place, and logically, having a free blood source is a good idea. Maybe he can even share with Akechi and repay some of his imagined debt.

Then Nendo starts inviting in pretty much everyone who he overhears having trouble with housing or family, and Saiki ends up with a mansion full of new friends.

At this point, the hypothetical chapters would alternate between Aiura x Akechi dates (milkshakes, smoothies, romantic walks under the stars, cuddling at home, silly tiny bat times, maybe a sippy or two) and Saiki encountering yet another random human in his home.

Kuboyasu is a 35yo freshly divorced dilf with no clue what to do with his life now. Kaido's a 28yo who tried to stay in college forever but was forced to graduate and doesn't know what to do with his life. Toritsuka, a 40yo deadbeat, came to "exorcise" the mansion in an attempt to gain fame, discovered Saiki, and decides to move in and try to cajole Saiki into giving him epic vampire powers. Hairo is a 60yo who won't stop the hashtag grind even though his joints are definitely feeling it. Teruhashi is an 18yo runaway and Saiki has to deal with her extremely unfortunate crush because he would feel terrible kicking a baby like her out to the wolves. Yumehara is 23 and tries to be a friend and role model to Teruhashi with mixed success. Mera, 50, just wants to save on rent. Saiko, 40yo, is also there escaping his family, much to Saiki's chagrin. Why does a millionaire need to squat in HIS house??

Since Akechi masquerades pretty efficiently as a human, he has his own apartment near his job (difficult to commute inconspicuously from the famously huge and haunted mansion at the edge of town), and generally visits Saiki at night as a bat, if he's not doing a little investigation for a client. He's very pleased to see Saiki looking healthy and happy for the first time ever, as much as he complains about his growing zoo. When Akechi introduces Aiura to Saiki, Aiura actually recognizes him from several dreams she's had, though Saiki looks wayyyy more hydrated and pink now than in the visions she had seen.

Conveniently the visions Aiura had are about the plot. Kusuke is still alive, and though he should be 70+, he figured out how to slow his own aging via science and studying Kusuo. He's angry that Kusuo prefers to starve than to reach his full potential, and that Kusuo chose to spend his immortal life with Akechi instead of him. Finding out that now Kusuo is keeping the company of like 10 human failures is the final straw for Kusuke.

Kusuke injects Kusuo with a chemical that fools his body into thinking it's empty of nutrients, which triggers a vampire 𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 𝖒𝖆𝖉𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖘 and overrides Kusuo's better judgement. Kusuo actually being full of blood works in Kusuke's favor, because he has the full gamut of his powers too while going on a wild rampage as a monstrous giant bat. Akechi, Aiura, and all the mansion residents have to work together to stop Kusuo from trashing the place and escaping to feed on the local populace, all while fighting off Kusuke's army of brainless undead zombies.

With everyone's combined efforts, they manage to get Saiki into the basement, which is the strongest part of the house, and get him pretty calm. Then Kusuke shows up in person, hoping to rile Kusuo up into turning him. Kusuo doesn't attack him like Kusuke expected, so Kusuke starts shooting at his human friends to get him to react. Kusuo protects them all with his own body instead, and struggles to think of a way to stop Kusuke without killing him.

Then Akechi slips out under his massive wing in his own tiny bat form, swooping onto Kusuke's face and grabbing his head. He lines up his eyes with Kusuke's and with the extra power from Aiura's blood, is able to hypnotize him into putting the weapons down and make him fall asleep.

When Kusuke comes to, he's chained up (with Aiura's hot pink and fluffy BDSM gear for lack of better equipment), and his brother is regarding him with disappointment. Kusuke promises not to do that again, but Kusuo doesn't really believe him. Kusuke pleads that he just wants his brother back, and Nendo pops in and invites him to just move in. Kusuke initially scoffs at the idea of living with dirty lesser humans, but Kusuo smiles at the idea, and Kusuke changes his mind.

Kusuke moves in and has his remaining zombies help patch up the mansion. True to his word, he doesn't try to rile up Kusuo again, nor take over the world, though he naturally still continues his sussy experiments. He actually ends up becoming good friends with Akechi too, and they & Kusuo often play competitive games together.

And Aiura and Akechi become an official couple and share a wing of the mansion, and Aiura asked to get turned after a while. They find a baby vampire that's similar to Kusuo (in that it will age for a while and then stop) and raise them as their child, and Saiki's home remains a safe haven for any humans that are open-minded and in need of community. <3

[burdened-android]

A VERY DESCRIPTIVE PROFILE OF YOUR MUSE. Repost with the information of your muse, including headcanons, etc. if you fail to achieve some of the facts, add some other of your own!

NAME: Arma Marie Isdera (chosen) / Vantage (original name) PLSR8020L7QV828472082 (serial number) / Esperanza (temporary alias)

NICKNAME: n/a

TITLE(S): n/a

AGE: 26

SPECIES: human, android

SEX: Female

NATIONALITY: born in the united states, made to resemble someone from southern Europe (i.e. southern regions of Italy)

INTERESTS: Arma writes to an obsessive degree, chronicling many of her thoughts with a fountain pen. Depending on verse, her writing is either eloquent journal entries, or unhinged scribbling that only makes sense to her. "Black Trees" is her noise music project; the mild-mannered Arma loves shrieking into a microphone.

PROFESSION: What Arma enjoys the most is her work at Serapis, an organization that hosts people to take trips to other dimensions. She is a Leif, a sort of tour guide, that helps people navigate through these experiences. In other words, Arma is a professional trip sitter. In reality, Serapis is a front for the government, who is using the visitors as test subjects for a Project MKUltra-esque experiment. Arma is, of course, oblivious to this; she likes that her position hires more androids than other places.

There have been other scenes in which Arma is a barista at the Khamsin Inn, a small coffee shop near the walls of Neo-LA. I kinda thought it would be a fun joke to have Arma appear doing the most random jobs imaginable, like working at the DMV or operating construction equipment.

BODY TYPE: Very svelte, like someone who does a lot of cardio and aerobics. Arma's beauty lies not in the size of her features, but in her proportions.

EYES: entirely black (this makes her sensitive to bright light)

HAIR: Jet black, almost looking blue or purple in some lights. Arma doesn't really put her hair up unless she's going for a specific style; the people who made her were able to patch "long hair can be annoying" out of her DNA. She has thick eyebrows.

SKIN: Pale, stone gray, owing to genetic reasons, and her having black blood. Arma has permanent black lip gloss that doesn't come off.

POSTURE: Arma's sense of balance is extremely good, owing to the slightly mechanical nature of her. She usually wears stilettos, and can run in them at almost full speed. All of her movements are very measured and precise, almost to a robotic degree. She can also spend a much longer time upside down than normal people, without becoming uncomfortable. Arma can't swim.

HEIGHT: 5’9”

VOICE: It's deep, raspy, and androgynous. It's like she's whispering, but instead of getting louder, she gets closer to your ear. This can be disconcerting, because she can be talking to you from across the room, but it will sound like she's whispering in your ear. Everything Arma says is slow, and deliberate.

SIGNATURE OUTFIT: She has a fake fur coat she always wears, it's gray, very soft, and is meant to resemble chinchilla. Under that she usually wears some kind of turtleneck, crop top, or a more plain blouse, and black leggings. Alternates would be a cocktail dress, or a short skirt with fishnets. Arma has very sensitive eyes, so basically any time outside is spent with very dark sunglasses on. These have gold frames, to match a thin bracelet on her wrist. Charlemagne made her a necklace consisting of a black metal star, which she wears every day to honor him. Her aesthetic is basically "vampire that loves Trader Joe's."

Her appearance is one of the few exceptions to her otherwise austere lifestyle. In short, Arma is always slaying, even if the occasion doesn't call for it. Tabby is your girl if you want messy buns and oversized hoodies.

SIGNIFICANT OTHER: Arma is in a difficult spot emotionally. Her only relationship, both platonic and romantic, was with Charlemagne, her boyfriend who she escaped from New York with. In this timeline, she is just beginning to open up to new people after losing him on the journey to Neo Los Angeles.

COMPANIONS: Noelle, Pari, Spoons, and recently Kira. She drags Tabby out of the house, and relies on Limbo to help her with her car, and house repairs. Arma does not know that Limbo is a criminal.

ANTAGONISTS: Other than the police, and associated android hunters, Arma does not have any opps in the RPC. She is like a capybara, she survives by getting along with everyone. Arma likes, but is scared of Aura.

STRENGTHS: Resilience - Arma's body is unusually resilient, as she can shrug of things that would hospitalize a typical person. She is not completely impervious to everything, but, like, getting hit by a car would probably just stun her for a few seconds. She's very adaptive, and cunning - Arma is always open to learn knew things in order to both expand her frame of reference and to achieve what she desires. She can be a very out-of-the-box thinker. I've mentioned this before, but Arma is basically just a nice lady who wants to have a good time.

WEAKNESSES: As stated above, Arma's emotional state is not the greatest. She can be very emotionally dependent on her friends, and isn't the best with boundaries. Arma is a people pleaser, and puts the opinions of people she looks up to on a pedestal. Honestly, she's also kind of gullible, and too trusting of others.

FRUITS: Fruit? Fruit is a canvas, waiting to be painted (with chocolate.)

DRINKS: Arma is a true water enjoyer, preferring to chug it at room temperature. If not that, she loves hot drinks, especially hot chocolate and mocha lattes.

ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES: espresso martinis, and the reddest of red wine. Arma will swirl it menacingly as she lounges on her couch.

SMOKES: Has indulged in a cigarette once or twice.

DRUGS: No.

DRIVER'S LICENSE: Yes. Arma's income isn't always the most steady, and she drives a very tired Geo Metro that's filled with Squishmallows.

tagged by @chronicparagon

tagging @songofsilentechoes @smokes-and-bullets @cosmic-gemstone honestly my brain is mac n cheese rn so if u wanna do this go ahead ;)

[autisticsociologymajor]

Male-Written Female Characters vs Female-Written Female Characters

Intro: Men write female characters according to their perception of women. Women write female characters according to their experiences being one & being around other women. Obviously that’s not a fact. But the way a character is written says a lot about the writer and their perceptions. So I’m going to do a comparison to show the difference using Jodi Mills from supernatural & Hannah Wells from designated survivor.

A/N: I actually have no clue who wrote these characters. This is just an example. In no way am I bashing the characters or writers. Just observing.

Jodi Mills is humanized.

Hannah Wells is a machine.

Jodi’s story began as a cop with a family. She was married with a kid. Hannah’s story began as an FBI agent tasked with solving the reason behind an attack. Jodi’s whole family died, and someone Hannah presumably had an intimate relationship with died in her story too. Both women were tasked with solving the case and getting answers for themselves and for others.

Hannah became obsessive. How dare she allow herself to get too close to someone like that. She’d never ever do it again. Hannah doesn’t cry. She has no emotional weaknesses because she doesn’t have time to be weak. She won’t allow herself to get too close or to let others know too much about her. She’s a fighter. She can single handedly take down entire t3rrorist organizations, fight alongside experienced soldiers overseas, she speaks multiple languages, and has survived numerous attempts on her life due to her physical strength/agility and her above average intelligence. In every way except physically, she is a heteronormative masculine character. She has no depth— her life is her work. And her work is in spite of her father (and every other male apparently). Physically, she’s the most hyper-sexual feminine character. She wears tight t-shirts and heels to work (yes, even when she’s trying to escape captivity), she’s slim and fit, and has an amazing figure. She wears minimal makeup and puts her hair up only when necessary.

Jodi Mills is humanized in the way that she didn’t become entirely obsessive and machine-like. She was traumatized by the loss of her family, as anyone would be. She processed this, processed the existence of the supernatural, and she acted accordingly. She stayed being a cop but does pitch in with the supernatural when she can, and she takes kids in as her own when they have nowhere to go in order to help them while also helping herself emotionally. This is a pretty normal response to trauma. Despite her past, she still allows people to get close to her and she’s able to open up emotionally. She’s both a fighter and a nurturer. She’s capable of being a mother and a cop, a lover and a fighter, etc etc. She’s human and has a work/life balance. She cries and experiences pain & emotion despite her above average intelligence and physical strength/ability. She dresses accordingly. Instead of wearing tight shirts, long hair, and heels into a fight, she wears her uniform, comes prepared with weaponry, and wears her hair short. She has an average body for her career and age.

In other words. Hannah Wells has the personality of a man, but still has the body of an idealized woman. Hannah appeals to the male audience by acting masculine while appearing feminine. In no way is her character grounded in any form of true reality.

Jodi Mills has the personality of a real-life woman, and the body of a real-life woman. Jodi appeals to the female audience and any other realistic audience member. She acts and appears like a real person any one of us could meet on the street someday.

I learned one thing in school. Heteronormative masculinity is grounded in 3 things — strength/usefulness, status, and denunciation of femininity. Heteronormative men NEED to be strong, wealthy, popular, dating an attractive woman, and all while denouncing anything that is “feminine.”

Hannah Wells is the epitome of that. She’s strong, she’s useful, she’s popular because of her status as an agent, dependent on nobody but herself, she’s an attractive woman but in no way does she act feminine at all.

Jodi Mills isn’t, because she’s human. She’s strong and useful. Yet she isn’t popular because of it. She’s both independent and dependent on others for certain things. She’s an average woman — not idealized yet not unattractive. She’s masculine in some ways and feminine in others. Aka. She’s human.

That’s all folks.

[doofnoof]

THIS IS A FIRST DRAFT FOR HOMIE EYES ONLY. ONCE IT'S FINISHED I'LL EDIT AND TURN REBLOGS ON. IF YOU'RE NOT @'D DON'T LOOK

@turboclown

Warning for Sleuth Jesters Spoilers!!! Too chicken to put this in Naff's asks but by god I'm gonna rant on my own damn blog!!!!

You Know What The Do To Guys Like Us In Prison by My Chemical Romance reminds me of Sleuth Jesters, and I just wanted to give Naff kudos for making a fic that absolutely refuses to un-stick from my brain.

The themes of freedom and imprisonment and how there's more to it than just physically being imprisoned, there's a mental and emotional aspect to it too! Especially since Eclipse took Y/N's freedom mentally (can't figure out how to beat him) emotionally (can't play their games with Sun and Moon anymore because Eclipse made them feel as if they had to hide their past from the boys in order to keep them; a past that had imprisoned them, that they'd burnt to the ground to escape from) and physically, by keeping them in a room, destroying their sense of time, and eventually burning their safehouses to a crisp. Y/N was even imprisoned in their own skin, because of how Eclipse had dressed them and marked them with bruises top to bottom, making Y/N sore and uncomfortable. Y/N became the vigilante because of their desire to free people who are imprisoned by poverty and greed (mostly because of the crime families paying off the people meant to protect the normal folks, like the police or the Mayor) because they were in a similar situation when the Afton Family got a hold of them. They were a homeless, starving child scooped off of the streets and delievered right into Afton's hands by hospital staff and a police officer for a stack of cash, both people having promised to keep Y/N safe. Eclipse wants to imprison those same people (impoverished and those in power alike) with debts and favors so he would retain his own freedom, one hard fought for since robots had only recently been given rights. My favorite thing about Y/N is that even when faced with their own death, backed into a wall, they'd still throw themselves whole-heartedly at the harder-to-escape, more grim option than sacrifice the life of someone they swore they'd protect. They would put up with killing an animal, or someone that was already gunning for their life, but once they realized that Gregory was a human child they chose the option they assumed they could never go back from; they decided to save him even though it meant Eclipse was going to destroy the freedom they'd fought for. Eclipse also tried to control Sun and Moon, by paying their way into the Detective Agency, and then a second time by trying to control Y/N (who Sun and Moon were clearly heads-over-heels for.) I imagine he figured he'd have more control over Sun and Moon if he kept Y/N under his wing, imperiled, but his major character flaw is his arrogance, in assuming that Y/N could be controlled, and his assumption that Sun and Moon had rejected him on a whim and wouldn't have been ready (and downright thrilled!) to take him back if he gave up on the violence and cruelty. He assumed Y/N was just like him and only needed a push to become the dog they were during their Afton days again, and his wrongful assumption cost him his life. Probably not making much sense here but I love how everyone has a specific theme. Sun and Moon's seem to be forgiveness (they forgive an awful lot, and they're guilty they didn't take care of Eclipse sooner because they'd hoped he'd change his ways, at which point he'd be Forgiven, how Y/N is afraid of losing them because they'd done something Unforgivable in the past, Moon forgives Sun for lying to him, how they seemed to expect Freddy to forgive Y/N for what they'd done because they'd saved Gregory, etc.), Eclipse seems to be driven by an arrogant need for control (so he wouldn't be alone, so that Y/N could never leave him the way Sun and Moon had) and Y/N's theme is freedom (their whole Thing™ is that they're impossible to catch, Eclipse couldn't control them, and they killed the one person who ever did find a way to keep them in check.) It's an incredibly well done fanfic and I can't wait to re-read it and see if I can pick up any more little tidbits I hadn't noticed before.

This part is just the animatic in my head goin nuts, feel free to skip, altho I certainly had fun putting it together. Y/N is Pink, Sun is Yellow, Moon is Blue, and Eclipse is Red. The Aftons (William and Vanny) are Purple.

In the middle of a gunfight, In the center of a restaurant, They say, "Come with your arms raised high"

Well, they're never gonna get me Like a bullet through a flock of doves

This represents the first time Sun and Moon actually meet Y/N, as they escape into traffic and show off how hard it is to catch them, their game Begins; it also circles back to their last gun fight where Eclipse corners them and they shoot him in the eye

To wage this war against your faith in me

Your life will never be the same, On your mother's eyes, say a prayer

This part is when Y/N realizes Sun and Moon trust them and they're not playing a game anymore, the mother's eyes lyric being about Vanny and William

Now, but I can't, and I don't know How we're just two men as God had made us Well, I can't, well, I can, Too much, too late

Or just not enough of this Pain in my heart for your dying wish I'll kiss your lips again

Sun and Moon talking about their guilt about how they got where they are (Eclipse's Money) and Y/N talking to Sun as they agree to find a Celestial Wire for Moon as he metaphorically bleeds our on the operating table. They know what they're gonna do is the wrong choice but they wanna kiss Moon again one more time even if he never forgives them

They all cheat at cards and the checkers are lost

My cellmate's a killer, they make me do push-ups in drag

But nobody cares if you're losing yourself Am losing myself?

Eclipse keeping Y/N in his room and manipulating them with food and comfort items, the push ups in drag thing about Eclipse putting them in a burgundy shirt, dressing them up as the Afton's Dog, not who they really are. They lose a piece of their identity as they strap their knife to their thigh and break into Freddy's house

Well, I miss my mom

Gregory and Y/N lock eyes and they see He's Been Through Some Shit the way they had when they were his age, both of them Orphans

Will they give me the chair?

Or lethal injection, or swing from a rope, if you dare?

Nobody knows all the trouble I've seen

They wonder what Sun and Moon will do when they find out who they really are and what they'd done (the scene where they bury the little girl they'd brought to Afton)

This part is backwards!!!

Now, but I can't, and I don't know How we're just two men as God had made us Well, I can't, well, I can, Too much, too late

Or just not enough of this Pain in my heart for your dying wish I'll kiss your lips again

Y/N going into the fire to kill Eclipse to give his Celestial Wire to Sun

To your room

What they ask of you will make you want to say, "So long"

Well, I don't remember

Why remember you?

Y/N flees from Fazbear's office when he brings up their past

Do you have the keys to the hotel? Cause l'm gonna string this motherfucker on fire, Fire!

Y/N and Eclipse duking it out in their room

Life is but a dream for the dead And well, I won't go down by myself But I'll go down with my friends Now, (I can't explain) (l can't complain) Now yeah

Y/N sees their room in Sun and Moon's apartment after Moon tries to explain what happened to Sun, who Already Knows and is hurting but knows Eclipse needed to die, Y/N puts their chains around Sun and Moon's wrists

[urlocalnonbinarybastardwrites]

Heyyy 👋 I’m literally copy and pasting this from my Google doc because I wanna make this as detailed as possible, lmao. Sorry in advance for the venting.

Alright, to start off - My name is Emerson. I identify as genderqueer with exclusively they/them pronouns, and I’m also on the aromantic spectrum with a preference towards men/masc- presenting people. To clarify, I can feel romantic attraction, it just takes a lot of time for me to fully open up and be emotionally vulnerable enough for that connection to start.

My appearance is pretty plain, I think. When I was younger, I used to wears lots of dresses and skirts and cutesy clothing, but now I’ve settled on the same five sweatpants and three sweaters to wear interchangeably throughout the week. I wouldn’t say I have a certain ‘aesthetic’ or ‘style’, I just wear whatever’s comfortable and convenient. I’m Chinese, so my hair and eyes are both dark. I’ve been growing my hair out since I was a kid, so it goes down to my butt. My skin tone is fair, and I also wear square thin-frame glasses.

As much as I’d like to say I’m a friendly person, I can’t truly guarantee it. I tend to go stiff and quiet when someone is paying attention to me, which I’m sure has made lots of my classmates feel wary of me. When I know someone is looking and listening, I go through a series of conversation starters and responses like a video game catalogue, and I zone out while I do so because I’m desperately trying to figure out what persona I should put on in order to make the best impression. I’ve been like this since childhood, and my therapist says it’s likely due to my autism - I’m perceptive to the point where I physically can’t help being empathetic to anyone and everyone, and I hate the feeling of disappointing/discomforting people due to my intense desire to keep things calm and peaceful. Since I grew up as a middle child of divorced parents, I was ‘The Fixer’. When my baby sibling needed to be looked after, I watched him. When my mom was upset by something my dad did, I took care of the chores so she could have a break. When my dad got upset after an argument with my relatives, I hugged him and silently listened as he told me I’m his favorite. It used to make me happy to hear him say that, but now it’s like rotten fruit on my tongue. If I’m completely honest, most of my personality directly stems from my trauma. I’m attentive because I seek validation through being reliable. I’m observant because I never want to miss a sign that could mean somebody is feeling upset. I’m randomly enthusiastic because I need to boost the room’s spirit when nobody else will. But when I’m on my own or zoned out, I’m as quiet as a mouse. A dead one, in fact. Sometimes I actually forget to breathe because I’m so fixated on controlling my body language

On the upside, I’m really loyal?? The downside to that is I can be obsessive, so..

Even my hobbies kinda reflect my sad life style, lmao. I’m a huge shut-in who hates going out, and I’m constantly on my phone. Whether it’s to listen to music, play games or read fanfics, I’m always finding a way to escape reality. I hardly do anything else, but I enjoy a good true crime podcast while I’m drawing.

Some fun facts about me

I have a sad-looking RBF, according to my dad

I have a cow plushie that my older sibling got me for my 13th birthday (I still cuddle with it every night)

My favorite book genres are fantasy, adventure, drama

I’ve had several girlfriends before I realized I’m gay as shit

My usual playlist is as follows;

Monster by YAOSOBI

Racing Into The Night by YAOSOBI

Ghost City Tokyo by yama

a.m.3:21 by yama

Haru no tsugeru by yama

YELLOW by Yoh Kamiyama

Hong Yeon (Red Ties) by Raon

Darling by Raon

Overdose by Raon

The Vampire by DECO*27

Lost Umbrella by inabakumori

Lagtrain by inabakumori

Aishite Aishite Aishite by Kikuo

Love Ka by Ado

Loveit by bizxZERA

—————

I would like the Texas Chainsaw Masscre, Scream or Outsiders fandom. I really enjoy your writing, so any one of them is fine. Hope you have a good weekend (where I am, it’s Saturday)

(Also you wrote a lot so I’m giving you an analysis, and you are so self aware bro, PS sorry this took sooo long!)

Your Fandom Ship: Darry Curtis

Explanation: just start off with your looks I think that number one you would be insanely attracted to Darry if you’re into more masculine or presenting people because I think he’s like the most masculine I mean, I know people say that supposed to be Winston but I honestly see dairy is the most masculine of the group and I think that you guys would make well for each other with that as for your appearance I think that he’s a traditional guy so I think that you would definitely shocking at first I mean with you you know being gender fluid at all and I think that you would definitely catch his eye and that’s probably how he initially met. You is whenever you were probably walking around the street and he was like whoa I have never seen anyone look like that and then he probably like, wanted to talk to you, but be scared to offend you or anything. I also think that you would work out really well because I can’t really see him being the type of person that would be attracted to someone in the moment that he meets them. I feel like he would need to be like best friends with a person for a very long time before he actually became you know attracted slowly to them. I definitely don’t think he’s the type of guy that would see a person on a street and You know be instantly attracted to them wether sexual or romantic. I’ve always kind of headcanon him as being the type of guy to really need to get to know someone before being attracted to them because he just feels like the relationship is more empty and fake if he doesn’t really know someone before diving into something. I think he would definitely love the way you look and he put similar efforts into his style also known as relatively no effort because you know he’s always tired. He has work. He hast to take care of his kid brothers. He doesn’t want to put that much effort into way he dresses so he totally understands if you don’t either and I don’t feel like he would be someone to judge or patronize you for that and I also think that he loves your long hair he would love if you let him play with it if you weren’t into that sort of thing, he would respect it, but he would be a little bit angry about. I’m mostly kidding, but part of me is not because I think that he would love your hair and he thinks your glasses are pretty adorable. I also have this minor head canon that pony boy needed glasses whenever he was a kid, but they couldn’t afford them, so he’s a little bit blind sometimes but anyway, I think he would find years adorable and think that they really suit your face. I think he would also audibly gasp whenever you take them off for night because he’s always so used to seeing you with them on. I don’t think he would mind your lack of friendly gestures whenever you first meet because he definitely understands that it can be hard to do that especially whenever you’re being overwhelmed by someone new that you don’t understand an art familiar with yet and I think that his loudness would contrast perfectly with your quietness and I’m not saying that he’s a particularly loud person but I’m saying he’s so loud. He’s loud enough that your dynamic could actually work well. I also think that he would be one of the few people to observe the fact that he can tell that you’re doing slightly auto pilot responses to whatever he asked to say he was able to tell that you weren’t fully invested in the conversation, he noticed the subtle things like whenever your eyes get a little bit clouded whenever you’re looking at him because you aren’t really Looking at him sure you’re not focused on him and I feel like he would be one of the few people that would try to pull you out of that and say I’m real. I’m here. Don’t try to be who you think I’ll like. Be yourself. I don’t think a lot of the other greeters would make an effort to do that or even notice and I think that he’s one of the few that would, he’s used to taking care of others that he does really tiny things like that and if you wanted to, he would try to help you and if he didn’t, he would trust you to try and improve it upon yourself.

I also think he would understand your people pleasing tendencies because soda pop is a similar way to be familiar with behavior. You’re not disappointing me you’re not disappointment. You’re good enough for me. You’re good enough in general and I’m really proud of you for the effort that you made. nurturing instinct I guess because he’s been so used to that he would notice these small things and I think he would also see kind of bits and pieces of you and his brothers and vice versa and it makes it a lot easier for him to take care of you because he can kind of understand you through them if that makes some sort of sense. another thing I feel like would pair you guys really well together is the fact that you were the middle child having to take care of everyone and he’s the older sibling having to take care of everyone he understands the duties and he understands adults, abusing the fact that they think you’re different and you can handle everything when you really can’t because you’re just a person just like them you can’t handle the weight of the entire family. It’s really really hard to work and work constantly and never feel like you’re good enough and I feel like that’s a feeling only few of us can understand that he would be able to understand and connect with you about, while I don’t feel like he’s the greatest to talking about his feelings or his past childhood trauma with you. I feel like he would be able to find that connection with you if that makes sense like you guys kind of understand it just by looking in each other in the eyes as cheesy as that sounds without even having to talk about it in detail. I think he would also find your loyalist endearing and I don’t think he would ever really be bothered by your obsessiveness unless it goes too far but I think you guys establish boundaries pretty early into the relationship so you know what’s too far and what’s not. But I really think down to the core. You guys have a great dynamic together because you’re so similar yet so different and you bounce each other out in a great way you guys kind of are gravitated towards one another because you’ve had similar experiences and feel the similar pressures that no one else can really understand and yet you guys are different in the aspects of him being more people pleaser being less people pleaser you have differences and similarities and overall, I think you would make a very, very good couple. I feel like he is more of an introvert himself like he can go out, but I feel like that’s not what he prefers so you guys would definitely have the cutest little indoor dates of just chilling, watching movies and things like that and if you went into obsessive rants over a movie or anything like that he would be fascinated and definitely try to add onto the conversation and it would just be the most adorable little thing ever and I have a feeling he probably insisted on reading one of your fanfiction one time and you cringed so hard when he started reading it out loud. He also really loves your drawings and I feel like true crime podcast with freak him out a little bit and he would definitely be like how the hell do you listen to that shit? But if you were listening while you were probably too distracted to pay attention because he would definitely be an Uplifter of your art and always be complementing it even if it’s not your best work he would actually like it is and I think he would really really admire you to the core and he would be sure to definitely always show it off to the gang unless you didn’t want him to. Also, when you first met, he thought that you’re resting bitch face was pretty funny and he definitely asked you why you were sad and then you looked up at him and we’re really confused. 💚💚💚

I am so so so so so so so sorry for taking this long to complete this. I have been in a mess of events and I’ve kind of gotten burnt out after doing so many of these requests but I really wanted to do yours justice because of how much detail and effort you put into your ask. Not that many people go to those lakes to be that open and vulnerable about their childhood traumas and insecurities and you just do into it you, you understood the assignment just really thank you for letting me do this for you. Also excuse any grammatical errors I do use voice type to do these because I mean, I am not writing all that shit man but yeah so if anything sounds a little weird just try and put two and two together in your head.

[fucking-feelings-man]

Mental Health and Physical Illness

It’s the beginning of Suicide Prevention Awareness Month. It has hit me particularly hard this year. I am very open about my physical health and tend to be a lot more closed off about my mental health. I am slowly trying to change that as I work on accepting that my mental illness are also a part of my health journey. I think we still have a long way to go on education around mental illnesses. Hopefully, in the future, it will be easier for people to open up about their struggles with their mental health. 

There is a reason why I don’t share my mental health struggles. It is so easy for it to be weaponized against you. My mental illnesses have been used against me in my long journey to find my physical health diagnoses. And it prevented me from getting certain treatment options due to the stigma and poor educational training on mental illnesses in medicine. TW/CW, below, for talk of suicidal ideation, suicide, intrusive thoughts, anxiety attacks, etc. I am taking this as an opportunity to speak a bit more openly about my mental illnesses. Please, look after your own mental health right now. If this post is too much for you to engage with, that is ok.

I have dealt with suicidal ideation since I was 14. I initially received a diagnosis of OCD and 3 anxiety disorders. At the beginning, my suicidal ideation started due to untreated OCD and not knowing why I was having horrific intrusive thoughts. My compulsions were taking up most of my waking hours and I was emotionally, physically, and mentally exhausted. I wasn’t able to enter a classroom for 2 years. I was the weird mentally ill kid with a desk in the hallway. I would have panic attacks if I even set foot in a classroom. I thought that if someone looked at me during class, my loved ones would die. Or if someone heard my tummy rumble, it would be the end of the world. This lead to extreme anxiety responses and thinking ending my life was the only way to escape this torment. 

I started therapy after a particularly bad incident in high school that left me unable to even enter the school property for weeks. This was my first bout of active suicidal ideation. I was extremely lucky and found a psychologist that I clicked with and worked my but off for 2 years on ERP & CBT. By my graduating year I was back in the classroom (but always had to be seated by the door or on the end of a row). I was known by almost all of the teachers because I was allowed to exit during classes to go hang out in the hallway to do my work. But, I like to think by the end of it I had a better understanding of myself and my tolerance for in-class work got a heck of a lot better. 

That carried into university and I remember having to tell most of my professors that I needed a reserved seat on the end of a row, and/or a seat right near the exit. I remember having horrific panic attacks if I walked into class and my usual seat was taken. Those were usually the only times I missed lectures. I still can’t quite shake that and it’s ok because it’s a heck of a lot better than it used to be. However, the exam/test anxiety never really vanished so I would dress obnoxiously nice. If I looked put-together on the outside, it kind of tricked my brain into being semi put-together on the inside. That, or I was able to take exams in another location, which was 10x’s easier. 

I was doing pretty ok. My suicidal ideation was only reserved for those fleeting intrusive thoughts. I had gotten used to living with OCD at this point. My general anxiety levels were decent and I was coping pretty well. I was thriving in school and working so many odd jobs, looking back I can’t believe how I was doing it all. I was functioning at a level I never had before. I felt optimistic for the first time in my life.

Then the physical illnesses took over and my world started to shrink. The levels of chronic pain I was dealing with were unacceptable. The nausea/vomiting was debilitating. The fear of passing out every time I stood up consumed every waking moment. And it was all brushed off as anxiety. I was just stressed out. If I did some meditation it would be ok. 

Now, for someone that had been dealing with mental illnesses for 6 years at this point, I was so confused. I knew my anxiety triggers. I came to learn to live with my intrusive thoughts. The hours I spent on compulsions dwindled. And then to be told by health professionals these physical symptoms were just anxiety? I was left lost. How could my mind be doing these things to my body? I thought I knew what my brain was capable of. 

So, I tried to keep pushing. I dragged myself out of bed to make it to classes at the end of my undergrad and beginning of grad school. I tried to “mind over matter” the fuck out of everything. But I kept getting sicker and sicker. I started reaching out to my psychologist again because I felt so confused and defeated. I was then diagnosed with depression but my psychologist made sure to reiterate that this depression was secondary to a physical health condition. I was depressed because I was in pain and not receiving help. My anxiety was increasing because I was in pain and nobody was listening to me. 

Doctors continued to brush my symptoms off as anxiety because my mental health history was long. This left me angry and sad and I felt like giving up. This is when the suicidal ideation kicked back in. And it was severe this time. I went into my first case of active suicidal ideation in 6 years and I had to work really hard on returning to my safety plan and finding distractions. But, my body was so sick that most distractions took too much out of me. I was left in a sick and dying body and my brain latched onto that and figured it would be easier to end the suffering all together. 

I quite honestly don’t know how I made it through 2019/2020. I think it was guilt and spite that kept me going in my darkest moments. And the fact I had an amazing psychologist and a kick ass mum. And I still had forced connections through school to remind me that I wasn’t alone and that people cared about me. But, I kept returning to the thought of “is my brain so sick that it’s causing me to slowly starve to death and allowing my nervous system to shut down?”. Something just didn’t feel right about that and so with my psychologists help we pushed back. 

I had countless letters written detailing that if medical doctors continued to use my mental health history against me and didn’t follow through on more testing, my death would be on their hands. It quite literally was stated that way. I was at severe risk for suicide and my psychologist didn’t hold back. It was at this point that MAiD was introduced as a possibility for me. I didn’t know what to do with that information so for a brief time period I started looking into MAiD as a serious option. If I couldn’t find a diagnosis, I was set on making the decision to pursue MAiD. 

I held on for another year and that’s when I found the miracle doctor team who figured out why I was sick and gave me my diagnoses. The relief I felt was impossible to describe. I then spent the last year fighting as hard as I could to get the rest of my diagnoses and start the process of finding treatments and symptom management. I had come out on the other side and now have tools in place to treat some of my symptoms. 

However, in the past month, the realization that most of my conditions don’t have cures and don’t have treatments has hit me very hard. I am exhausted. I don’t want to fight anymore. Those dark moments came rushing back and I have spent the last few weeks returning to my safety plan. I have had to have almost round-the-clock supervision. I want to share this as having an incurable disease that rips every shred of your identity away from you is fucking terrifying. The only thing that has kept me going has been fleeting interactions with people. I haven’t been able to properly leave bed in 2 weeks. I have made it outside 3 times to see people and one of those times was to get sedatives to try and control the panic attacks that have riddled most of my days. 

Why am I sharing this? I guess the weight of suicide prevention awareness month really hit me as I realized it was September. I realized 2 more months have slipped away from me as I am in a haze of recovery from my hospital stay. I had to make some really hard decisions recently for my health that have hit me hard mentally. And when I get into these crash cycles where more things are ripped away, that’s when my suicidal ideation becomes active again. And it’s so exhausting to have to fight physically and mentally to survive. 

I also share because I am always told I seem so happy all of the time and have that bubbly energy. So, I am not the face of what you would assume to be someone at high risk of suicide. I always say that I try to make the most out of every situation I have because most of the time I feel like it could be one of the last. And now that I am physically sick, those fleeting moments mean even more to me. I want people to feel a little safer in sharing their stories and reaching out for help. 

I still am not able to directly reach out to people for help. I make vague posts because the thought of putting all of this onto someone else makes me feel even worse. I am lucky to have a support system and people who understand complex mental and physical illnesses. But, we have such a long way to go in ensuring people with mental illnesses are treated fairly in our health system and in our communities. Suicide sometimes feels like the only logical option to deal with the level of suffering we experience. And that is fucking grim because we shouldn’t feel like burdens or like we are drowning. We should have adequate access to resources and practical help. All the therapy in the world isn’t going to do much for me until we find treatments for some of my conditions. 

I have reached the end of the mental health resource line. I am still brainstorming with my psychologist but it’s terrifying that I have already exhausted every avenue that psychology can offer me. And I have had horrific side effects from medication due to my comorbid physical health conditions. I am running out of options to keep myself alive. The only things I have left to hold onto are guilt and spite and that is a terrifying place to be. 

I just hope that in my lifetime we are able to make things better for the next generation of people with post-infectious illnesses and mental illnesses. It’s not ok that people like me are left to die or are pushed towards MAiD. I always say that my life would be a lot easier if our healthcare system was in better shape and if our social systems were revamped so I never had to worry about how I’m going to afford my next round of experimental medications or have to fight with insurance to get mobility devices that will improve my quality of life. It shouldn’t be easier for me to access and be approved for MAiD than access resources and treatments to keep me alive. 

All of this to stay, check in on that friend that always seems really happy and put together. Check in on that person who has mental illnesses but you haven’t heard from in a while. Check in on your sick and disabled friends because I promise you we are not ok. It’s hard to exist in a world that constantly tells you it would be so much easier if you were just dead. And I am fighting so hard to just hold on an extra day. I keep reminding myself that no matter how horrible the day has been, it always ends the same. I get to go to bed. I get to let sleep take over, even if it’s only for a few minutes at a time. I get to experience a tiny reprieve from the hell it is to exist in this world as a mentally ill and physically ill person. And I am so grateful to be able to crawl back into my bed when things get tough. Because chances are, this won’t last forever. 

So, what can you do to prevent suicide? Support workers rights in your local community. Support local mental health networks and collectives that are doing the work to make mental health supports accessible. Support the push to keep our healthcare system public. Support local shelters. Support organizations that are fighting for universal basic income and a living wage. Support mutual aid projects. Support local disability coalitions. And speak up about the failings of our government and hold politicians accountable. Reach out to someone you haven’t heard from in a while. Talk about suicide. Learn a bit more about suicide and mental illnesses. And always check-in on that person that seems to be holding it together. We shouldn’t have to be resilient. We shouldn’t have to be strong.

[clubsmarties]

Off the top of his head he thought of a few. "Husbands who don't love them enough?" Giving a shrug he smiled. "Library one won't be cocktail attire. More comfort casual. Don't take this the wrong way but you look beautiful." He didn't mean it because she had such a dress or because her legs looked killer but he meant her. "That's because you hardly listen to me when I yap." A joke clearly as lived to tease her. "Probably forgot to mention it. The last few weeks cases have taken over our fun banter. Library event is at the library park. Free to people so it's kind of like a book fair but more fun. The charity aspect of it is that big names drop loads of money to fund public libraries and stock classrooms. This is the good side of wealth." Her nose wrinkle held him captivated on how cute she looked and laughed. "No. Not the same people. These are literate and can carry a conversation further than I've got four yachts and eat caviar. He mimicked their voices and gave an eye roll.

"Funnily enough, these parties or more specifically, the yacht parties. He's also retired so time is all he has. People like that marry for money not love. I've never been to one but have heard about them. I worked a case on one of them. Women went missing without a trace. Actually, it's the case I told you about with stilleoutte heel marks on the walls. Still a cold case." He involuntarily winced at one night of fun. The dark, dark side of wealth were people who thought anything and anyone were disposable and there for their taking and amusement. Taking a quick glance at Liz, scanning her features for a brief moment, he didn't say anything just sighed. His features showed a pained look if only it flickered momentarily. "You deserve much more than what they'll even be able to provide." He finally said as his eyes went back to the road. Safety for one and the comfort of being home for another. Smiling he let out a breath through his nose and couldn't help himself. "You barely tolerate me." The makings of a smile showed as his dimple made a quick appearance. "I do actually enjoy your company. Did I thank you for coming yet, princess?" Since she seemed to like it he figured he'd use it.

"I don't want to go anywhere. I mean it." Wally smiled as he gave a quick glance over to her. "All I want from you if you're thinking I want something," his smile grew knowing where her head might go. "Is for you to take the compliment and believe it. You glow maybe even brighter than the stars."

Another little sigh escaped him. "Before it got ran over with these assholes, my mom built it from the ground up. This, believe it or not, was different back when. It meant something. Now I come because mom still wants to let people know her charities are still being ran by the same person with the same heart. I hate this one specifically," it was the night the family fight erupted. "I have to watch out for my father's sisters." He laughed and shook his head, "I wish. That'd be a cooler story. Although you're onto something there. If I do, want to be my partner in crime?"

Curious eyes glanced at her and the water bottle. Momentarily understanding what could have possibly had her look like that. Then it clicked and before he could reach over to take the bottle to drink from it to show her it was safe, she'd taken a sip. Softly smiling at her and silently thanking her for trusting he wasn't the type he dropped his gaze. "Again, you're too good for them. They are trash humans whod fumble someone like you immediately not knowing how to take care of you. Emotionally I mean." There were a lot of truths that had come from his mouth and if Liz was paying attention, he'd basically told her a lot in a few words.

Having his wrist watch up on the wheel he decided to ring his sister. Call the dork brigade. Heading East and I need help. Left or right? I'd say not as bad but might need to soak up a bit of the alcohol so the hangover isn't terrible tomorrow. Uh I don't know might be. Would you just pick one. The one near the pebbled beach? Well, okay. Yes, after I get her food, I'll swing by and bring you guys take out. Yeah, yeah. You're welcome. Thank you. Turning to face Elizabeth again he smiled and let her in on the conversation he had just had with one of his sisters. "Heading to a burger joint called the Halibut. It's greasy and delicious. They serve curly fries and sweet potato ones though those I don't recommend since they're not as good as when they're fresh. Called my sister to have her pick. I'm indecisive and would have taken you to all four places. She asked how bad you are and I said not too bad. Just needed good food to absorb the alcohol. I'm taking them food afterwards so don't let me forget." He smiled softly as he swiftly made a turn while his hand was still on the gear shift. Having just spoken to his sister in French he didn't know if Liz could even understand it but regardless didn't hide what he'd said from her. In a way didn't want her to think he wouldn't still be honest with her. "She picked pebbled beach because it feels like you're walking on jellies."

"What kind of husbands would say no?" Elizabeth laughed at the thought. "That's kinda the point of the dress. Though I wish I wore something else that I could've worn flats in now. this is a legs dress, so heels are needed." That was a lie, she loved dressing up. Missed it. It was just strange being herself and not someone else for once. "Library event?" He had her full attention. "I don't remember you mentioning a library." But then her nose wrinkled. " Will it be the same people?"

Listening intently, she began to commit everything he said to memory. "Princess, I like the sound of that." She didn't really know why, she chalked it up to knowing more about the man who had become a friend now. The way he talked about some of them, especially his aunts was not lost on her, slipping slowly into the old habits she used now in different ways. "Glow?" She laughed. "I'm pretty sure it's the alcohol. And compliments will get you no where, Elias."

Free will. It felt funny to hear from someone like him but she understood the sentiment all the same. His mom sounded....like a mom and a small ache broke inside of her. "Then why do it at all? If they made such a big deal about your sister, why not just stop attending? Stop feeding the beast, so to say." Quirking an eyebrow, hazel eyes filled with a sense of adventure. "Is this where you tell me that you've been a double agent this whole time and ready to overthrow a government somewhere? I knew it. I just knew it. " It was a tease.

Taking the bottle, she thought it over for a moment. Old memories rose telling her to not accept it. To not drink from it. Then she remembered who handed it to her. She didn't know exactly when but she trusted him. Not wholly, not completely, but she did trust that this was just a bottle of water. With a mouth full of water, she choked back the water as she laughed. "Well, they would be sorely disappointed. They're not my thing." Orion had been an exception the moment he entered her life. "Even if they wanted me as a wife they would be disappointed all around with all the things I can't provide." That and probably a lot poorer by the time she left them.

"Boo, no class. I should've known by now that money doesn't buy class but it's always a surprise when it comes up." Eyebrow quirked. "Fourth? How does he find the time?" But she knew all too well how they all did, had been the one in the floppy hat plenty of times. "Well," she secured her seat belt. " I feel offended. Did you think I found that" thumb pointed out the window. "Attractive? And what does it matter if I did? It would just be one night of fun anyway. I can barely stomach anyone more than that. But you did call me princess, so how little you think of me forgiven."

There was a flip in her stomach at the sight of him, tie loosened and buttons undone. One hand on the gear. God, she had drunk more than she should've. Clearing her throat, she turned her attention out of her window. "So where are we going anyway?" The topic of food was a safe one.

[takeitallinonyourstride]

jan 3 2023

i think i should start blogging again.

i haven’t been doing well lately. i lost my cat suddenly back in early december, i miss him so much. it feels like my fault. he stopped eating normally and was being picky, i waited to take him to the vet. what if i took him sooner?

one of my best friend’s is punishing me, squashing my spirit. i miss him, i miss our friendship, and he’s been purposely so distant, and mad at me for trying to fill those gaps. i don’t know what to do. logically, i know i don’t deserve to be mistreated, but him doing it to me makes me feel like i do.

i’ve been a bad pet parent recently. i have no energy, i cry all the time, and the thought of taking my dog for a walk feels so daunting. i feel bad for him, but i can’t stop crying long enough to leave the house. just putting on shoes feels like a chore.

i’ve been drinking a lot, using it to cope. i know it’s bad, but it’s one of the only things that helps. i haven’t told my therapist yet. i’m not ready to stop.

doing small things is difficult. getting dressed to go to the store, taking a shower, doing the dishes. feeding my pets. all of it feels like a mountain to climb. 

someone hit my mailbox while i was away over the holidays, so i had to spend money to get a new one. it was actually kind of fun buying a new mailbox and painting it- i painted it purple. i bought stickers with my house number and street name, then installed it myself. doing it made me feel a bit better, i’m trying to hold onto that feeling.

i spent $48 for the mailbox, plastic attachment, reflective stickers, and can of spraypaint. i have $35 left to my name until i get paid. i am afraid to spend it. i’m out of groceries, i have no gas. i had to cancel my nutritionist appt today because i didn’t have fuel to get there. i lied and said i was having car trouble, it’s so embarassing to be so broke. 

obviously, money is very tight. i am barely making enough to live. my boss, who’s family is wealthy and has never known this struggle, doesn’t understand and is very difficult to talk to about my pay. it’s also difficult because he is a friend, not just a boss. and the company i work for isn’t making a profit, they aren’t doing well. i’m worried and feel sick at the thought of having to find something new. 

sudden topic change, here we go: back in nov, a friend i met the year prior told me she didn’t want to be my friend anymore. she said i was overbearing, emotionally draining, and didn’t seem like i cared about her life. a few of my (actual) friends told me this isn’t the case for them, and this one seemed like a bad egg if that’s how she’s going to end a friendship. i didn’t even get a chance to defend myself or talk to her about it, she said she didn’t feel like it was worth it.

i’ve learned that talking to friends about your mental health isn’t always a good idea. it has to be done in moderation. if you sit there and tell them everything that’s bothering you, it just pushes them away. you can’t really rely on someone.

i’m trying to be grateful, i’m trying to look at the good sides of life. there is a lot of good. i’m just so sad. i feel so alone. i feel so tired and hopeless and stuck. it’s been this way for so long, everything i’ve done in effort to make it better hasn’t worked. i think about the end a lot. how it feels like an easy escape. how painful it would be for those who care about me. 

i wish i were closer to my friends overseas. i wish i could see them more often. i wish i could travel and be free from the burdens of my life. i wish i could just enjoy life and not be so sad. 

[h20]

hallowed be thy ween

[bratz-kitten]

blockages that the placements need to work through 

here are some things i’ve been working on ft. the astrological placements that i believe they’re revelant to, in case anyone else needs this 

sun aspecting venus, harsh aspects to the ascendant - saying no. it’s not so much like... a need to say yes to please other people, but a fear of saying no and facing the repercussions of it. lately i’ve been trying to simply say no to things that make me uncomfortable because turns out i do have a great difficulty setting boundaries lmfao. when my male friends make a sexual comment about me, i just say “stop, don’t talk about me like that” and when people invite me to hangouts that i don’t have the energy to go to i simply say “i won’t go, but thank you for inviting me”. the most difficult part is dealing with the guilt that comes with refusing others, and i’m telling myself that it’s okay to piss people off if it’s to maintain my feeling of safety 

moon in capricorn, moon harshly aspecting saturn - letting myself depend on others. i’m coming to terms with the fact that i’m not as big of a lone wolf as i believe myself to be lmfao. like, it’s okay that i depend on my emotional bonds sometimes! it’s okay to allow myself to love with no restrictions, with no “but i can’t let them see me vulnerable”, with no “what do i get out of this connection?”, no “oh i have to be nonchalant about how much i care for them or else they’re gonna know they have power over me and abandon me” no. i’m letting myself write the dumb sappy texts, to make the effort, to show how much i care, to open up to others. i’m easing with my calculating instincts. i don’t have to drown in my loneliness and i refuse to spend a lifetime avoiding getting close to others in fear of them hurting me. i’m working on seeing my strength, like... it’s ok if they hurt me because i will survive 

saturn in gemini, mars in the 12th house, mars harshly aspecting neptune - taking action when i need to. especially in real life, i have a lot of difficulty with taking action. like, if i’m in an argument with someone, or if someone is actively pissing me off, my first instinct is to end the conversation and escape so that it won’t escalate. theoretically, that’s smart... in practice, it makes me gulp down a lot of situations in favor of keeping the peace, and it makes me live an entirely different life in my mind vs. in reality. like, in my mind, when something happens i’ll fantasize about being assertive and talking back to the person, about standing my ground. but in real life i just... quietly move to a different room. plus it’s difficult for me to feel things in the moment, like something will happen and i won’t register it but days later i will think back on it and be practically fuming in anger. these past few weeks i’ve been working on just, saying what i want to say. even if i’m aware the situation can escalate, at least i won’t have any regrets, and it’s made me realize that people aren’t as easy to anger as i thought them to be, and that i’m stronger than i believed myself to be 

moon harshly aspecting jupiter - allowing myself to break down. my moon opposite jupiter is at a 0º orb, and when i tell you i feel every ounce of it, i really do. like, my emotions are extremely disregulated. on one hour i will be at the highest of the highs, and then the next hour i’ll be crying on the floor telling myself i’m the worst person alive. which just... causes me to feel even more guilty about how i speak to myself, and about how volatile my emotions are, and then i’m just a mess of guilt and self-criticism and “stop acting like a baby”; i feel easily overwhelmed and like i’m doing way too much, overreacting to every possible situation. and then, an hour later, im just like.... emotionally numb. anyways, instead of making it worse by blaming myself for my emotions, i’ve been just. allowing myself to feel. no guilt, no shame, just allowing myself to feel bad because of the innate belief that i’ll get over this, i’ll move forward, it’ll get better 

venus harshly aspecting the ascendant - dealing with a poor self-image. i have a lot of issues with my body image. so, instead of analyzing my body from every single angle and blaming myself for it, i’ll just. not look in the mirror. like, you know when you’re a kid, you’re barely aware that you have a body - it’s there, it functions, it helps you play and eat and grab things, but you don’t really spend time thinking about it’s shape and appearance because it doesn’t matter. that’s the mentality i’m trying to work with right now, that my body is there: it deserves food, exercise, to be washed and dressed in comfortable clothing, and that’s that. i’m releasing myself of the judgment that comes with my poor self-image 

natal saturn retrogade - stop buying things just to watch them sit there. like, i buy things that i don’t even use. or i buy things that i plan to use, but then i end up not using them out of guilt of having bought them, or lack of energy to use them, or fear of using them and messing up. so, what i’m doing is grabbing all the things i don’t use, and if i truly don’t want to use them, i’ll simply discard of them, and if i do want to use them, then i’m making plans to do so. no letting them sit in my room and feeling guilty every time i look at them 

mars dominance, mars aspecting personal planets, mercury aspecting pluto, debilitated moon (in capricorn or scorpio) - stop verbally insulting others in discussions. the point of having a discussion is to explain both perspectives and come to an agreement/compromise, not to try to win. unfortunately, this is something i’ve always had great difficulty understanding lmfao. as soon as i’m in a discussion the point stops being to shed light on the situation but to use the words i know will hurt the person the most so that they’ll feel the pain that i feel. when someone is not understanding me, part of me just wants to make them go through what i went through so that they’ll get it - especially if i have an emotional attachment to the person (for example, them being my family or romantic interest). this is extremely toxic and it’s giving me when your parents say “when i was younger i had it much more worse than you, and i’m going to somehow make this your problem”. so, i’ve been thinking twice about what i say to people. is what i’m about to say to this person relevant to this discussion, or do i just want my words to sting them so i can watch them crumble? i ask myself this question, and i try to show others the empathy that i want them to show me. 

planets in the 12th house, lilith in the 12th house - developing a better sleep schedule. i don’t remember the last time that i went to sleep before 5am, and this has greatly impacted my mental and physical health in general. like, i’ll go to bed extremely late, and then i wake up late and it takes me hours to find the strength to get out of bed because i just feel so shitty. the reason why i avoid sleeping early is because i struggle a lot with nightmares, because of my own paranoid thoughts and fears, and because it’s my “peaceful” time. like, during the day i have to deal with my parents being awake and... well, just existing in general, and i have to deal with my responsibilities and my family, but at night i get to just exist for myself and do whatever. but also, i struggle a lot with intrusive/paranoid thoughts that keep me from falling asleep. this is due to my anxiety and mental health problems, and to be honest i still don’t really know what to do to deal with this. like... the thing that’s helped me the most so far is to turn off my phone/computer since i get headaches easily, petting my cat until i feel calm enough to at least try to sleep, and to avoid taking naps throughout the day since that’ll just leave me with way too much energy at night 

[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.”

[winter-soldier-vibes]

Hey darling ❤️ love your writing 3000 :) can u do one with Bucky x reader (they’re together) where he overhears the reader on the phone with her parents that are emotionally & verbally abusive towards her (they always have been) and the reader has to explain it all to him afterwards even tho she’s having a panic attack (bc she’s afraid bucky will leave her since she has no one else to go to ??) and bucky comforts her and reassures her that he’s gonna be there for her and like comfort fluff? I live in an emotionally abusive and manipulative household rn and I tell you your fics are like an escape for me. Even if u don’t do this thank you from the bottom of my heart :)

Hey there, I love you 3000 ❤ I am so so sorry to hear about your situation, and while I'm glad to hear that my writing is an escape for you, I want you to know that I'm here for you. No one should have to go through what you described. I hope that this can bring you some comfort but please, I encourage you to reach out to someone who can help you. My DM's are open as well, you shouldn't face this alone. I'm here for you!!!

You owe them nothing

Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 3200 (ish)

Warnings: emotional abuse/gaslighting, manipulation, parent issues, tears, angst, breakdown, fluff.

---------

You really tried to keep it hidden. It wasn’t something that everyone needed to know about.

Your parents loved you, at least that’s what they had said. But it was one of those things where you felt like it was for show - the kindness that they showed when you were around others faded away once you were alone with them.

You remember once they had said “of course I love you, I’m your parent!”

But that made you wonder how they would treat you if you weren’t theirs.

They were horrible to you for as long as you could remember. Gaslighting you and making you feel like you owed them something even though they were the ones who should have taken care of you.

They were around but never…there. They would be there for family dinners but they were always riddled with criticisms of grades and who you were talking to and how you dressed. All of your hobbies were seen as a waste of time, something you should only do when you had nothing else to do. School came first, naturally, but there was always something they told you you had to do before you could do anything for yourself.

Yet when you would complain about being depressed, they told you to get a hobby because you never do anything.

Tired meant lazy, energetic and passionate meant loud and annoying. When you were quiet they thought you had nothing to say, yet when you expressed your opinions you were told to shut up.

You couldn’t win.

You could never make them happy, there was always something you were doing wrong.

They thought it was their right to monitor who you talked to and saw, what you did outside of school, what sports you could join. When you would say no to the school dances or parties you would make up an excuse about not wanting to go or having work to do. Your friends would call you a buzz kill. Little did they know you would give anything to go.

Whenever you would do something wrong (or anything, period,), your parents would yell at you. They would curse you out, make you cry, only to yell at you for crying like a little bitch.

The older you got, the worse it was.

You thought when you moved out it would be better. But you had all these years of being told you were worthless and having them be your providers. When you got your own place you didn’t really have any friends, nor did you really know how to make friends. You had a job to help you get by, you could support yourself. That wasn’t the issue. You could support yourself, you always had to.

It was that you were so lonely.

You wanted friends but you were so afraid of the criticism you would get. You were afraid to make yourself known, because you were always taught that being told what to do and taught what to think was much more appealing than having your opinion.

But this was an opinionated world.

You were good at what you did, so good that you had gotten a job at S.H.I.E.L.D. You thought that would make you happy, more importantly that it would make your parents happy, but no such luck.

“I got a really great job, guys.”

“Fantastic. I guess you’re just doing so great without us,” they had snapped.

“What? I mean… this is what you wanted right? For me to get a good job?” you had said, confused.

You heard a loud sigh on the other end of the line. “Of course we do, what are you crazy about? Of course we wanted you to get a good job but you just deserted us like we were trash. Have we done nothing for you?”

You felt your heart sink in your stomach. ‘Of course you guys have, I love -”

“Don’t say what you don’t mean. If you really cared about us you’d be helping us out. You got a great job and probably have a huge paycheck that you hoard and you left us here to struggle to make ends meet.”

You took the phone away from your face temporarily to take a shaky breath. Of course they would go there with the salary, why wouldn’t they? All of your paychecks had gone to them, since it was their house and they were feeding you, leaving you with barely enough money for your car and gas and phone bills, only for them to suggest longer hours when you complained.

“I can help you guys out if you need,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

You heard an exasperated sigh on the other line again. “You really should be more grateful, you know? We raised you your entire life and then you leave us alone? You never even call us? You’re so fucking selfish.”

Then the line went dead.

You shook your head and felt tears in your eyes as you spoke to yourself. “Well maybe I would call you if it didn’t always yell at me.”

Of course, you would never say that.

See, it wasn’t so bad. You never said anything because they were only ever mean to you, which would make you uncomfortable. There were people out there that would get hit or who would have to raise themselves from a young age. Once you grew thick skin it wasn’t so bad, you were just being dramatic.

Right?

Your new job was fairly successful, you were fantastic at what you did. You did a lot of behind the scenes work, weapon repair and plans of action with missions. Not that they needed much help with that. Still, they took you in as their friends.

Well, as close as you would let them get to as friends.

It took a while before you warmed up to them. Everyone tended to keep to themselves, but not as much as you. You kept the parts of you hidden away - you were there for a job, you did it, and you did it well. You knew how to do your job but interacting with the team, making friends - you didn’t want to get emotionally attached.

Not like you knew how to make friends to begin with.

Naturally you were drawn to the quieter side of the team, once you were able to open up. They were all nice but sometimes the parties and the jokes were a bit much. You just didn’t want to say or do the wrong thing that would make you the punchline.

No one needed to know about you, or how you would spend your free time being yelled at through a phone with you trying to make it better. That wasn’t part of the job, so you shouldn’t bring it up.

It wasn’t like anyone would want to help. You were just a nuisance to everyone around you.

Right?

No one talked about their life before the team much. Not many people on the team had a great life before the Avengers first came together. Natasha or Wanda had once spoken about how this team was a family. And as much as you wanted to believe it, you helped the team. You weren’t a part of the team. So even if that were true, it didn’t include you.

At least, that was your point of view.

The team viewed you as a part of the team as much as any of them. You didn’t fight with them but you made sure everything would go as smoothly. You were kind and great at what you did, but they wished you would open up more. Of course, being a team of people who had trouble opening up, they understood.

Bucky was one of the ones who took a liking to you, mostly because he saw a lot of himself in you. He could tell there was something that you were trying to get past but weren’t quite able to yet. That there was something bothering but you wouldn’t dare say it for fear of bothering someone. You threw yourself into projects and distractions and from the way you carried yourself, he guessed you were avoiding something that you weren’t ready to work through. At least, not yet.

He knew that feeling too well.

The ex-assassin was one of the easiest for you to open up to because he didn’t expect much from interactions. Both of you were quiet and kept to yourselves that there wasn’t much pressure to share anything or say anything. You knew his past but would never bring it up unless he wanted to. Which eventually, he did. You could tell he felt pressure to be who he was before HYDRA took him, and while Steve was surprised he opened up to you first, you weren’t. Steve knew Bucky before everything, and you didn’t have that bias. He was whoever he was today regardless of who he was yesterday.

And Bucky found comfort in that.

You think you would’ve too, if you thought you deserved it enough to do the same.

See, you were worried that you were making everything worse than it really was. You worried that maybe you were being too sensitive or that what you had grown up with was normal. With everything that everyone on the team went through, a few insults from your parents was hardly anything. You were being dramatic.

There was nothing to be sad or angry about. You just had to get over yourself.

Right?

You were getting by until one night when your parents called, as they did on occasion. You were in the middle of working, so you ignored it. The phone went to voicemail before it started ringing again, and you ignored it, again. The third time you sighed and picked up your phone, turning away from your work.

You took a deep breath before you answered. “Hello?”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

You closed your eyes and brought a hand to rub your head. “Well I’m doing fine, thank you, how are you?”

“Don’t give me that attitude. What the fuck are you doing? You’ve been ignoring our calls.”

You stood up to pace the floor slightly, dreading the conversation that was coming. Is it the ‘family is most important’ or the ‘where’s my money?’ speech today? “I’ve been working.”

“What, so work is more important than family now? Is that what this is? You don’t care about us?”

Family speech it is.

“Dad -”

“What if one of us was dying? Huh? Would that be important?”

“Stop it. No one is dying, and I was working. And I have more work to do, so I really have to go.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, I’m your father.”

Gaining confidence you gritted your teeth and snapped, “You know what? I’m an adult now so you can’t tell me what to do.”

There was silence on the other end of the line and you could practically hear the steam coming out of your father’s ears.

At some point Bucky had come down to your working space to check on you, seeing as it was nearly morning. He stopped in the doorway, and seeing you were busy on the phone he thought he would stop by later to give you some privacy. But he stopped when he heard you snap.

You never snap.

“Who do you think you’re talking to you ungrateful little bitch?”

“I’m talking to the people who treated me like shit my entire life and ask me for money when you wouldn’t give me the time of day for 18 fucking years.”

Even you couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth. But god did it feel good to say them.

“Are you fucking serious right now? We did nothing for you? What do you think we’ve been doing your whole life? We’ve done everything we did to help you be the best person you could be. You have that job now because of us and you have no right to speak to me that way.”

You chuckled darkly as you looked up at the ceiling, unaware of Bucky’s presence behind you. “My entire life all I’ve ever wanted to do was make you guys proud of me. But you know what? I’m fucking done. You hated me, gaslighted me, and made me hate myself almost as much if not more than you seemed to hate me.”

“I did no such thing you ungrateful -”

“You were supposed to love me and care for me, and all you did was take advantage of me. I’m not your child, I’m a paycheck. I don’t owe you anything because you gave me nothing. So you know what? FUCK. YOU.”

You hung up the phone and tossed it across the room, adrenaline taking over your body as you tried to stop shaking. Because a small part of you felt bad.

But fuck did that feel amazing.

You heard a throat clear behind you and you turned around to see Bucky, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“You okay?”

You nodded nervously, rubbing the sides of your arms. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you said, unconvincingly. “How much, uh...how much did you -

“Enough,” he said, pushing himself off of the door frame as he crossed over to you. “Who was that?”

“Bucky, don’t, it’s really fine. I just got a little worked up.”

“Y/n,” he started, looking at you with concern. “Who were you talking to?”

“No one.”

“You don’t get upset like that at no one,” he took your hands in his. “Y/n, you're shaking.”

It was then that you realized your hands were still shaking, trying to keep the anxiety of what happened at bay.

It’s going to be so much worse now.

I can never talk to them again.

Is that a good thing? Didn’t I want that?

Bucky could sense you getting lost in your head. “Sweetheart, tell me what happened, please. I want to help you.”

You pulled your hands away from his and crossed your arms. “You can’t help me because there’s nothing wrong, okay? I handled it, it’s over. Done. nothing to worry about.”

“Y/n -”

“No really, there’s nothing you can do, okay?”

“Will you at least let me try?”

You looked at him, adrenaline starting to drain from your system. This was Bucky, your Bucky, who had never done anything but love and support you. He had never done anything to hurt you.

But what if he left you too?

You took in a sharp breath and curled in on yourself, a scared look on your face. Bucky crossed back over to you, seeing a scared look on your face.

“Hey, hey, y/n? Can you look at me?”

You brought your eyes up to meet his, feeling your chest constricting as you tried to keep your breathing even. It wasn’t working.

“I - I’m sorry, you shouldn’t… I’m fine really I’m sorry, I’m so sorry”

“Hey, it’s alright, it’s okay, you have nothing to apologize for,” he pulled you in for a hug and kissed the top of your head. “Let’s go sit down, okay?’

He led you over to your bed and you leaned forward, hands on your knees and head in your hands. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s happening, this - I’m sorry, it’s so stupid, I’m so stupid.”

Bucky rubbed a hand up and down your back, hushing you. “It’s not stupid. If it’s bothering you, it’s not stupid.” Bucky took a small breath. “Do you remember all of those times after nightmares and all those panic attacks you would walk me through? How I thought I was being stupid?”

“You weren’t being stupid”

“And neither are you.”

You took some more shaky breaths as tears kept falling down your face. “You’re okay. It’s alright, I’m right here.”

Bucky let you calm down, knowing you would talk about it if you wanted to. He wanted you to talk about it so he could help you (and hurt whoever upset you) but he wouldn’t force you into telling him anything you didn’t want to.

The two of you sat in the silence, Bucky looking at you with soft eyes as you kept your face hidden.

“I haven’t told you a goddamn thing about me. You ever wonder why?”

You looked over at Bucky, eyebrows creased with slight confusion.

“They said blood was supposed to be thicker than water. That family comes first, right? I spent my whole life listening to them and following them and being the perfect kid. I made myself into everything they wanted me to be. And it still wasn’t enough for them.”

Bucky tilted his head slightly. He hadn’t known his parents much before they died but he had always wanted to have more time. But he wasn’t oblivious to the fact that not everyone had good parents.

“You know, I remember thinking that once I made it they would be happy. That if I worked hard enough or went onto do great things that they would be proud of me. That’s all I ever wanted, you know?” you said, voice wavering as you let out a bitter laugh. “But it’s not, you know? Never is, never was, never will be. All they do is take and take and no matter how good I am they’re always gonna hate me because I can’t be perfect.”

“No one’s perfect, y/n.”

“Well that’s what they want me to be. I know I can’t be perfect so I know they’ll never be happy. That they’ll call me ungrateful and selfish for succeeding and for leaving them when they never wanted me to be there to begin with.” You felt tears spill over as you wiped them away. “And I’m ust so fucking done with being a disappointment to them and to everyone else.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“I don’t know,” you said softly, not really wanting to be more vulnerable.

Bucky, sensing this was a time he could push you, challenged you. “I think you do.”

You shook your head. “I didn’t want anyone to see me the way they did. I thought what they said wasn’t true but...I just thought that maybe I was overreacting. Other people have it worse you know - some people have no parents or some have it so much worse. Mine just yell at me you know? Tell me everything’s my fault and that they wish they’d never had me. That I’m ungrateful for not being with them and that I owe them. I just...I heard that for the first 18 years of my life. I didn’t need any more of it.”

“y/n, that’s…” he swallowed, trying to contain his anger. “That’s not normal. No one should have to go through that. You can’t possibly think you're a bad person.”

Your shrug was enough to tell him that you did.

“Y/n, I don’t know who your parents think they are but you don’t owe them a damn thing. You may be related to them but you have no obligation to love your parents if they treat you like that. You have every right to be angry or to hate them. It doesn’t make you a bad person to be angry with someone who hurt you.”

“But they’re my family.”

“Well they didn’t treat you like it. You have us now, you don’t need them anymore. We’re your family. And we’re not gonna leave you.”

“They didn’t leave me Bucky, I left them.”

“You can’t leave someone who was never there for you.”

----------

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[notlycheesden]

Rearview Mirror

Heyyo ✌🏻 this is my first written piece for Endeavor , as a gift for my friend @kogo for the evil exchange. so I hope you like it my dude 👍🏻. A piece I will def be coming back to write more for sure.

⤍ Endeavour x reader

⤍ 3.6k

⤍ TW.incest, TW.dubcon, TW.father/daughter

⤍ Summary:

Enji was trying to be a better father, a better man.

And you never lied to him.

Guess it was a time for a lot of firsts.

Everything was always red between the both of you.

It's past four when his phone rings.

He was awake. even on his day off -those becoming more frequent now- years of routine were still strong. His body alert and aware way before the break of dawn for hours of training before patrol, and later to go to his own agency, the literal empire that wouldn't run itself.

He was pretending to be asleep, unmovable laying on his stomach, face buried on his pillow. Deep breaths in and out in a rhythmic pattern. His massive frame takes most of his king-size bed that for more than a decade he slept right in the middle, no reason to let the right side of it unoccupied.

It was almost meditation-like. There in the quiet and calm of his bedroom between his sheets, he could organize -or at least try- his thoughts. A time in his day where he gets lost in self-reflection. The things he would have to do that day, what work in his agency he would have to supervise, and even stubbornly he would do a little steaming out, analyzing his “actions and emotions”, passing commentary from the resident agency therapist threw his way.

“A strict but good man, if not for some, mishaps, from your intense and fiery nature.” was his professional opinion about Endeavor. The man really lived to throw things his way.

It used to help calm his turbulent mind. But lately there was nothing in his head but turmoil.

It was something he would do until 6 AM, when he couldn't take any longer and had to get up, body and muscles aching from staying in bed for too long, the sun already rising on the horizon, painting the sky with yellows, pinks, and reds.

The silence of his room is broken by the ring of his phone. Instead of the familiar tone of the morning alarm, it was his normal ringtone. When he opens his eyes, the room was not bright as he expects, still shrouded by darkness. Endeavor sits on his bed at once, alert.

Getting it from the bedside table quickly, his posture falls when he catches the time and the already saved contact of who was calling him: Natsuo.

Enji picks up, but before he could question the call, the time, or even say hello, Natsuo speaks, voice grave and serious.

“You need to pick up your daughter right now.”

It’s a punch to the gut. One that makes all the air from his lungs escape at once. In a second, he feels like he is thrown into a rollercoaster.

The only thing he can muster in his shock is a guttural and deep bark of incredulity “What?”

Natsuo cuts Enji off immediately. His tone triggering him into snapping, memories hushing in -not the time for this- “She just called. She was a crying mess, begged me to come for her but I live two hours away-Shouto is on patrol and not picking up and Fuyumi is with her fiance's family at the onsen-”

Enji inhales sharply. Dread takes hold of him while he can't even see straight with the sudden rush of adrenaline, sirens blasting off in his head.

“She was supposed to be with fuyumi at the onsen.” His voice echoes back at him in his bedroom walls, he doesn't realize he is shouting.

“Look, this is really not the time. She has no money and her phone’s dead. I was able to get her to tell me an address before the call dropped. she's all alone there. Are you gonna pick her up?”

Natsuo calms his own breaths now after snapping and shouting back, and he can hear shuffling noises on his father’s side of the line. The older man was up in a second, not really seeing anything, rushing through his stuff picking his keys and wallet. He hates the way his father could make him snap so easily.

Enji was completely distraught.“She said she was going to be with fuyumi…” He mutters under his breath while running through the corridors, even forgetting the phone by his ear, his son still on the line.

But Natsuo hates even more the blatant difference in the way his father treated all of them and you in comparison. Always. Like he could fix his mistakes. Hide his sins.

“Well. Think your little princess lied to you old man.”

Enji didn't even register the venom in his son's words, nor when he hangs up on him.

He’s out of the house in a blink. He tries not to rip the door out of its hinges on his way out.

——

He drives fast, almost no other car in the streets making it easier to speed up in his nervous state. The GPS voice droning about the directions, a forty-minute drive that he would make in twenty.

you said you were going to spend the weekend with your sister.

You lied to him.

Enji’s heart hammers in his chest and his flames burst multiple times on his face out of control. His grip on the wheel tightens to ground his shaking hands, his jaw set with such force that he could feel a headache already forming.

Thoughts were flying through his mind a mile a second. Where are you? What happened to you? Who were you with? Were you safe? Why were you crying?

Why did you lie to him?

It was like his heart was being squeezed by dread and being broken at the same time.

You were his youngest. After he realized what he did to his children as a father, he tried his best to do better; connect, communicate, but he was emotionally and socially stunted -Thanks doc.- and by the time he tried to reach out, it was just a little too late.

Fuyumi was the pillar of the household, replacing their mother too much young and having to fit in a mould not meant to be hers, barely holding the treads of the family and house together. Natsuo was out of the front door as soon as he finished high school and got into med school, choosing to live in the dorms and work part-time rather than stay at the manor. Shoto was another history in itself.

And there was you, a couple of years younger than your now up-in-the-ranks pro hero brother, at the time just a pipsqueak. Too young to remember Rei, remember the worst of Endeavor.

And when he tried to connect, you were there. As if just waiting. Wanting your father to look at you. Frail and innocent and just in want of care, of attention, of love. You welcomed him into your life with open arms and heart.

Enji did try to make it right by you. And for some time things were progressing, even his other children were starting to turn their heads around his direction.

Until Touya’s incident.

The media cracked down on him and his family with a vengeance, almost nothing was left unturned or whole.

Natsuo was the first to cut ties. Shouto threw himself into his hero work, completely closing himself off. Even Fuyumi decided that she was done, took the next step, and went to live with her now fiance, completely ignoring whatever Enji tried to shout about costumes or honor.

Then it was just the two of you.

He tried to be a good father.

He was a quiet man in his private life, strict and with a violent nature, but he reached out for outside help to make it right. An older and trustworthy housekeeper to not chain his daughter down at the manor, guidance from therapist to help him become a better father, a better man, anything to do right this time.

Call it atonement, call it his redemption, call it hypocrisy, he didn't care.

He only cares that at the end of the day, you were there at his side, happy.

This morning he saw the note on the fridge.

Going to onee-san family trip,

Be back on Sunday.

You never had lied to him before.

Guess it was a time for a lot of firsts.

——-

The music blasting through the night tipped him off even before his car's GPS tells him he arrived at the destined location.

He parks way down the street and assesses the place inside the darkness of his car.

Enji’s way out of the city now and inside the industrial district, the building seems old and falling to pieces, people are lingering all around the street, but it’s thicker there. At surface level the building was empty, but the music was definitely coming from there.

He dreads the worst.

Getting out of the car still in his sleeping sweatpants and tee, he throws the hood of his workout jacket over his hair to conceal himself. He’s going for discretion, get you and get out, no need to make this a public affair. Not with this, not with you, not right now.

He searches around but still can't find you. Half an hour has passed since Natsuo called. He's in a frenzy. Endeavor forces himself to calm down and think.

His son didn't mention music. He looks far into the street and he can see the entrance of an alleyway, he hushes there.

His stomach tied in knots when he sees in the dark your small figure crouched down beside a dumpster. your shoulders ate shaking with silent sobs holding your dead phone for dear life, trying to make yourself smaller than you already were, head down.

Enji barks your name and your head snaps to the entrance of the alleyway in shock, your body trembling and fat tears running down your smudged makeup.

“Daddy!”

In a second you were up and running, throwing your body against him and hugging his middle. He doesn't know what to do first, but he opts for following his instincts. Enji hugs your shaking form, shushing you lightly while petting your head. He doesn't know if it's him or you who's shaking more.

He doesn't remember how, but he manages to walk both of you to his car without being seen, his hulking form covering your smaller one.

He's shaking. When Enji puts you in the passenger seat and the car lights momentarily shine everything in an amber glow, rage fills his chest. You are in a dress he has never seen before, he knows it was not yours. He would never allow a thing like that or let you use it in public. Your makeup that before being ruined by your smudging and crying, was heavy and meant to seduce.

He closes your door and gets in the car.

He's shaking.

——

Enji can only control himself enough to not rip the wheel or step on the gas right through the flooring for only three blocks. and thank the gods again for the hour, because he could not quite see the streets in front of him. If they weren't deserted while he drives double the velocity permitted, it would be likely that the fears of his family being again under the cruel and ravenous judgment of the public eye would become reality, although for a completely different reason from the ones he has been dreading until this point.

When he reaches the fourth block, he makes a sudden stop, turning and parking harshly with the front of the car almost all the way over the curb, the tires skidding loudly into the quiet of the night and scaring you out of your still shell shock state. your small sniffles stop when you let out a muted yelp of surprise.

Enji quickly pries his hands that have a death grip on the wheel and smash the roof of the car to turn the lights on in such a way that later he’s impressed he didn't send the entire ceiling flying. As fast as he did that and the darkness of the car is now cast in warm gold, his hands are on your small frame like a striking snake, a big calloused one gripping your face between meaty fingers, squeezing your wet cheeks and the other one in your far shoulder, turning you in his direction with a barely controlled yank. Enji wasn't sure if the shaking was coming from your body or his.

He's frantic, hectic, eyes going up and down your body trying to find anything, something. “Are you hurt? tell me,” His voice is harsh, too loud into the small space. You jump startled, but his grip locks you in place, he doesn't notice.

Why did you come to a party? Why are you dressed like this? Why did you do this?

“Are you?? Someone did something? Gave you something, touched you?” He barks again louder, bending and twisting to be in your face now, eyes scanning all over your body. But again and again, they would be drawn to the too short hem of your dress, from your ruined tearstained makeup and down again to your soft and creamy thighs, trying to find a mark, a scratch, a stain. Anything, something.

“Fucking answer me!”

“Dad please!”

Enji lets you go as if you just slap him in the face. He blinks.

You are shaking. Looking at him in fear, silent tears running down your cheeks. Your jaw is set as you try to hold your whimpers back, his fingers make red marks bloom on your face and arm under his digits.

Memories come back rushing. Phantoms scourging in blue flames.

He releases you as if you burn him.

His hands hover in place, and he doesn't dare to move, still crowding you. Both of you staring at each other in fear and confusion as if something would break.

He slowly backs away, and you keep still. He turns the light off and stares at the road.

Enji couldn't take more things between both of you breaking.

He takes a deep breath. Starts the car again to drive back home.

——

Friday nights are your nights.

Enji doesn't really remember when it started. But he knows it wasn't something that was spoken of or agreed beforehand. It happened once, then twice, then his job got in the way, then thrice, and when he noticed, it was a routine between him and his daughter.

Like most things between both of you, it just… fell into place. And it just felt right.

Endeavor would arrange his schedule in a way so that his Fridays would be empty, any emergency at the agency could be easily solved that way, patrols and hero work set on the weekends so he could come home at a sensible hour, just by dinnertime.

He would be just taking his blazer and shoes off at the entrance when Enji would hear your running steps from the kitchen, your pinky apron-clad figure hushing to meet him with a bright smile, eyes shining.

you would get a hold of his tie and gently tug down for him to bend at the waist to your level, your arms were thrown in a warm hug on his neck and a sweet and lengthy kiss on his cheek after he steps through the threshold. you would giggle against his face from the tickles you got from his stubble while warmly welcoming him, the food still hot on the table.

It was one of your multiple habits together, just the two of you. And it felt right.

It was routine. And it felt so domestic, warm and right.

Friday nights are your nights. After he gets home, you guys have dinner, something you cooked by yourself, sending the older housemaid away earlier.

Sometimes it is a new recipe, sometimes something you already tried before. But it's always good, and when Enji compliments your cooking skills and how much he enjoys it, your cheeks blush red. You daintly try to hide your smile as you thank him, bashful behavior so alluring even when he knows is just a little act, playing coy. There's warmth in his chest.

The lights in the dining room cast everything in this whimsical warm glow and maybe it's the beer, but Enji thinks it reflects lovely on you and the color of your blouse today. He says so.

“Looking so pretty tonight, princess.”

The red on your cheeks grow stronger. From across the table, he hides his smirk behind his can at seeing how you fidget in place, trying to contain your coquettish smile while biting your plush bottom lip. The warmth spreads lower.

Only later it dawns on him. Enji was flirting with his own daughter. And it was a habit.

It was routine.

Enji is sprawled on the big sofa comfortably, already showered and in his sleeping clothes after dinner, the second movie of the night halfway through.

It was a period drama and he tries to pay attention to the main points for your quiz about it the next day, but he was mostly checked out, lulled by the comfy dark of the living room, the buzz of the beers he drank, sleep and your warm body draped over his.

He doesn't really remember when it started, but he knows it was gradually. One day in your Friday movie nights, he notices you were glued on his side, and on the next one you had an arm draped over his torso while both of you were laying on the reclining couch, and since then, you were always over him, arms and thighs and breasts glued to his body, but most of the time cutely laying on his chest.

That night was no different. You are laying on his broad chest, using your arm as leverage to look down and back at the tv in front of the sofa, and for you to not slip he has one big palm over your waist and the other in a secure hook on the slope of your knee, propping your bent leg higher across his stomach. Your breathing matches his, and if not by your little grunts and noises of surprise, the redhead would have thought you had fallen asleep on him. It would not be the first time.

The clothes you are using are small and had hiked up a long time ago, a loose tank top and booty shorts, both of them old and worn out, sleep clothes.

From where he was, he could see all your body over his. From the crown of your head to the slope of your waist as it dipped under his scarred hand. His gaze follows the curve of your thigh draped over his waist to the fat of your ass pointing high. He muses in a daze that he could see the inside of your tank top, the soft swell of a breast making an appearance. He leers.

You move a little, and this time, he can make out the shade of a nipple. It’s pert and small and pretty, and blood rushes to his clothed cock, but is late, and he's tired and buzzed out. It doesn’t connect in his mind.

You move. you are getting yourself higher on his chest. Enji feels small hands wandering under his shirt. Presses of lips on his neck. Wet kisses on the stubble on his jaw.

The soft touches pull him deeper. There's a young and wanton body over his. It’s been so long since he truly touched another, let himself be touched. Smooth lips and an uncertain tongue were kissing him, and he wants to devour them. It’s hot and burns and makes his insides coil, his cock hard and heavy inside his pants. A warm slit humping it.

Could have been the tiredness, the beer, the comfort of the situation, anything really.

Enji kisses you like a man starved. Head moving and ravaging your much smaller mouth with his tongue. His hand yanks your tank top down exposing your breasts, and now he’s pulling and pinching the sweet nipples in a way that makes you moan against his tongue with a voice he couldn't recognize.

His other hand was down at your ass, guiding your movements back and forth on his erection with vigor, the friction against your slit makes you weak, but he keeps you moving, his calloused hand encompassing most of your behind. At each needy thrust his fingers would slide down between the cleft of your ass more and more.

His meaty fingers push the bottons of your shorts aside with a flick of his wrist, and now he's touching directly your puffy lips that are messy and wet all over. Enji growls in your mouth as you moan louder when he starts playing with your pussy, a pitched whine as he flicks your clit up and down, a strong hold on your breast.

A loud bang from the TV is what snaps him back to reality.

It was his daughter.

His daughter was over him. It was his daughter that was humping his cock, that he was sucking her small tongue and tweaking her nipples until he made her squeal.

He jumps to his feet and throws you across the couch.

Different from him, you look wide awake. Flushed face and startled eyes stares up at him, exposed breasts still heaving. Nipples rosy and hard. Between your legs, a glistening trail of where his fingers dragged when he ripped them off of you. Your shorts are drenched.

There's a moment of silence.

Enji snaps. He sprints to his bedroom, leaving you alone in the living room.

He locks his door, drops to the floor, and whips his hard and heavy cock out. in three pumps, thick ropes of cum cover his hand and clothed middle.

Taking big gulps of air trying to calm his breathing, his eyes glancing everywhere in a panic state, he looks down, and spot the wet patch on his clothed thigh. Yours juices that leaked on him. Its still in his other hand, fingers wet.

Enji wants to cry.

He tried to be a good father.

He ruined it again.

[problematicfavesareproblematic]

NSFW with Chuck Grant

~ ~ ~

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

 Charles Grant is a walking example of “acts like a badass, is actually a softie” bc BOY, IS HE HARD (lol) TO GET A READ ON. 

When you first start fucking, he doesn’t really have the instinct to stick around after and soak up the afterglow- mostly bc that’s not the dynamic that any of his previous relationships operated under, but also bc he’s like Lieb and doesn’t feel comfortable being vulnerable and potentially having you reject him. He only confidently leaves the first time, and then he judges whether to stay or not on how you look at him as he makes to get dressed after the second time you boink. If you want your space, he’ll go and be back the next day as long as you let him, but if you look even a little bit offended or hurt, he’s getting his ass back in that bed and doing whatever he can to get that sad look out of your eyes.

When he does stay, he’s down to give you whatever he can manage. 

He’s all for slowly kissing you while trailing his fingertips up and down your side, but if you just want to sleep beside him he is more than cool with it (he’ll probably still pet you a lil bit after you fall asleep bc he’s soft for you but shh shh shh don’t tell anyone). The only thing he isn’t very good at doing is pillow talk, especially right after sex. He’s too worried about saying the wrong thing and fucking up what he’s managed to establish with you. 

It isn’t until after he’s shot that he realizes how nice it feels to have someone else take care of him, and when you do so after sex it solidifies the fact that you don’t see him as a burden- you want him and you want to stay. Thank god, too. He doesn’t think he could recover without you (again, not that he’d ever tell you that)

 B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

 Your AhhhhhhHSSSSssssSSSSSs!!!!!!

Oh wow, look at you- owner of the cutest butt he’s ever seen. Can he put his hands on it? Can he squeeze it? Please please puh-lease can you let him watch it jiggle as he fucks you? If you’ve answered yes to any of these questions, then you’ve made each and every single one of his dreams come true. 

He doesn’t discriminate in his love for butts- he’s an equal-opportunity appreciator of the Majesty of the Female Ass™. If it changes size throughout your relationship, he’ll love it even more. Absolutely shameless.

On himself? He likes his legs- especially his thighs. 

He likes how strong they are, despite how much he hates Sobel for getting them to their current strength re: Currahee. But he gets over it quickly bc oh wow is he happy with their endurance while trying to keep up with you, both sexually and otherwise. The day he realized you could ride yourself to orgasm on them was the day he died and went to heaven and was sent back to sin again.

 C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

 He likes cumming on your pubic mound and then watching it slide down your pussy, thank you very much. If you guys are trying for kids or in a position where you don’t have to worry about not having kids, he’ll cum inside of you happily but oh wow he likes watching it slide down your lower lips. BONUS POINTS if he gets to catch it on his thumb and either stick it in your mouth OR circle your clit with it in order to get you off one more time.

Also, you asking him where he wants to cum on you gets him hot under the proverbial collar. 

 D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

 He’d do literally anything for you if you’d let him put his finger in your ass. He will genuinely kill an individual of your choice if you let him put his cock there instead. What a perv (jk it takes a lot of vulnerability for some people to convey their wants and desires to their partners plz remember that this has been a PSA).

The one thing he’ll never actually tell you about... EVER is that for a little while after meeting you for the first time in Georgia, he started hooking up with a girl who he didn’t realize (until much later) bore a striking resemblance to you. He’d had to end the relationship when he straight-up called out your name when he came (he was a lil drunk, just tipsy enough to slip up) and full-on booked it out of there bc not only had he pissed the girl off, but his shout had woken up her family- namely her very angry father- and barely escaped with his life.

 E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

 He’s had two lovers before you, but one of them was really experienced and patient and bless that woman. All he really has to do is learn what you like and he’ll commit it to memory. 

And you better be damn sure that he’ll use that knowledge against you/for his benefit. 

 F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

 Doggy style for all the reasons mentioned before. Or reverse cowgirl. Or normal cowgirl. His hands + your butt= dream combo.

 G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

 He can be goofy, but more than anything else he likes it when you’re goofy. Chuck can get a little too in his own head at times, which can lead to frustration/self-doubt- ESPECIALLY while recovering from his brain injury. You reminding him that sex is meant to be fun does him a huge favor, bc poor lamb will forget that every so often.

So please, nibble at his earlobe in that way that tickles him. Make a quip at the expense of one of your friends. Mock the silly sound of the moan you just let slip out.

 H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

 He’s not going to groom unless you tell him to, but he also doesn’t feel like you need to groom for him, either. Chuck’s not afraid to admit how much his personal hygiene has improved since meeting you. 

I can promise you that if you’re heavily invested in skin/hair care, he’ll probably be just as into building his own routine. 

 I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

 You always have Chuck’s full and undivided attention during sex, but he won’t necessarily show it unless he gets the guy feeling/you tell him that you want him to be. He’s going to whisper sexy things into your ear, call you a good girl (if not his good girl), and do everything in his power (at the time, at least (he can get a little distracted if you’re doing something particularly sexy)) to make sure you feel just how appreciated you are. He gets more and more confident in his PDA as your relationship progresses, but when it’s just you two? You’ll never meet a bigger sweetheart.

 J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

 Ok, so I’m deciding for you that mutual masturbation is a thing that you’re both into, m’kay? 

I'm also making the executive decision that you really enjoy watching him get himself off. You walked in on him one time, before you’d had sex, and were so stunned that you just watched in rapt attention until awkwardly backing out of the room and slamming the door shut. He’d nearly cum right then and there, and it got you extremely aroused. 

The next time you see each other, at some Georgia bar while on a pass, you offhandedly mention that you wish you hadn’t left and FROM THAT DAY ON he always lets you know when he’s feeling the urge and how you’re more than welcome to watch.

And when you do? It’s always a much shorter experience than he intends bc wow how hot are you?

 K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

 Frottage! Dry Humping! Grinding!

Allow me to explain:

In the months following D-Day, it was quickly understood that being on the frontlines meant having traditional forms of sex were no longer on the table (hehe) for you two. You’d experimented with rucking your trousers down your thighs, his thighs, both of your thighs, and each time it was a disaster (with one of the worst times ending up falling onto Tab after he’d inadvertently opened a door that Chuck had been fucking you against. Chuck had nearly thrown fists when Tab refused to look aware from your bare ass.)

So yall started grinding- quickly finding out that the bunches of fabric separating your bodies not only led to new forms of stimulation, but it also meant that you both started to utilize dirty talk. There’s something about your trembling lips at his ear, your warm whispers of ‘so good’ and ‘is this really all you need, Chuck? Me, writhing on you like this? What does that say about you, you desperate boy??’

Boy’s bought a one-way ticket to Boner City, USA.

PLUS! What a way to keep warm during Bastogne? Everyone is so jealous that they don’t have a super foxy megahot babe like you to grind upon.

 L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

 Hmm…..is saying anywhere a cop-out? Because he’s down for anywhere, he’ll follow your lead and rise to the occasion. Such a perv i s2g.

 M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

 ♫ YOOOUUUUUUUU!!!!!! ♫

You have this one eyebrow quirk you do when you’re in the mood, and it just so happens to be similar to the brow raise you give someone trying to outsmart you (which is another turn on for him- you putting some overly-confident sonofabitch back in their place after allowing them to mansplain at you for a little bit. First boner he ever got (since meeting you, obviously) came after witnessing you telling Joe Liebgott to stfu in cutting German after he’d made some off-color comment about your ass.) 

So, more often than not, he'll get a little turned on when you argue with people. Maybe even when you argue with him- who knows? not me. (i totally do, and he totally is)

 N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

 Any sort of pain play, on either of you. 

After being in genuine agony for so long while recovering from all of the surgeries, the idea of seeking any more pain out just doesn’t make sense. Chuck also doesn’t want to see you in pain- even if you’re asking him to make you feel it. You’d both suffered through the pain of hunger, frostbite, insect bites, sunburn, and just war in general (all of which had emotionally taken a toll on him bc he felt completely helpless and hated that he couldn’t do anything to take your hurt away). 

Sex and pain just doesn’t go together for him. Sorry not sorry 

 O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

 He loves having you go down on him, adores the way your eyes look up at him as if you’re challenging him to withstand your beautiful ministrations. 

He also is a big fan of going down on you, but PLEASE PLEASE PUH-LEASE ride his face. Good lord. 

He’s a sucker (teehee) for it- something about you using him like it’s all you keep him around for gets him hot. You also get this certain snarl on your lips when you are getting close that makes him lose his goddamn mind bc WOW YOU ARE SO ATTRACTIVE and HOLY SHIT YOU CHOSE HIM OF ALL PEOPLE? WOWOWOW.

 P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

 He’ll follow your lead/body language in terms of pace. Most sex sessions shift between both slow and deep as well as fast and hard anyway, so he is a fan of both. 

 Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

 A necessary evil, as far as Chuck is concerned. He’ll do them, and he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy the spontaneity of them, but he would prefer not to be rushed when he’s with you.

 R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

 He was riskier until that one time Tab caught you guys, after which he chilled out. Which you are thankful for, bc you’ve spoken with Lieb’s wife and BOY have those two gotten into some embarrassing situations bc of how risky that kid is. 

 S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

 The longest he's gone is 4 rounds (it was celebratory sex on VE day, with both of you in the best shape you'd ever been in and too high on relief to listen to your bodies. Ya'll were sore and dehydrated afterward but LORD was it worth it.

 T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

 He’d be very open to the idea of toys! On you, he’s automatically cool with it, but it does take him a little bit to get his head around the idea of using toys himself. Again, 40s/50s= somewhat repressed discussion about deviations from the traditional male sexuality- but Chuck is more willing and ready to challenge the societal norms than most. Very sexy of him.

 U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

 He always intends to tease you, but more often than not he gets so turned on that he can’t follow that intention through. You are aware of this and ABSOLUTELY weaponize this knowledge. Get it, fam. 

During day-to-day conversation, however, you both tease each other constantly. It’s been like that since you’ve met each other- always making innuendos and one-upping the other and for some reason that never even went away.

When Chuck woke up and the doctors brought you in to see him, the first thing he told you was that you looked terrible. When you’d replied with a sniff, a smile and a “guess the doc’s were full of shit when they said there was no change in your vision, huh?”- Chuck had smiled so hard it hurt.

 V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

 He’s a choked moan kind of guy. His face gets all scrunched up and his body shakes and he curses quietly under his breath (it’s vv cute and hot, FYI). he doesn’t even try and be quiet on purpose, he just seems to lose the ability to be vocal, tbh. If he’s drinking or if it’s been a hot minute since yall have gotten to do the do, he’ll probably be a bit louder. Like, maybe one loud cry of your name (see: the letter D)

It doesn’t bother him if you make sounds at all, just so you know. If anything, he likes that he’s a quiet cummer bc then he can hear any and all of your sounds.

 W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

 biting your ass while eating you out from behind is *bang* *bang* *bang* *click* *cash register noise*.

Especially if you squeal and smack at him after he does it.

 X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

 Average in all respects but OH MAN does he know how to work it to his advantage. Get ready for a wild ride, my dude. 

 Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

 Higher post-war, tbh. Chuck had had to be on bed rest for so long that he thought he may never get the chance to have sex again, so he totally makes a point to indulge in you every chance that he can get (but he’s cool if you say no, too).

But, as I mentioned in ‘risk’, he’s not going to be humping your leg in public or anything (ok but imagine if you were a dom to his sub and you made him do that holy fuck)

 Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

 He does not sleep very well, poor bb. He will be asleep but his mind will be working through all kinds of things ranging from PTSD to what shoes he wanted to wear to dinner with your parents that weekend. Good thing there’s a remedy to this ailment- your pussy sex with you!

While he can’t konk out immediately, he is able to relax. He will allow himself to get lost in the rhythm of your breathing, the weight of your hand on his arm or your arm wrapped around his middle. He will sometimes nuzzle into you as you’re drifting off to sleep, and when you press a kiss to his forehead he finally feels safe.

~ ~ ~

taglist: @sunsetmando​ @televisionboy​ @now-im-a-belieber​ @tvserie-s-world​ @holdingforgeneralhugs​ @mrseasycompany​ @itswormtrain​ @mrsalwayswrite​ @happyveday​ 

[the1northlanderprincess]

Love or obsession? An Anthology of Armony so far

It seems to be a consensus amongst the majority of us that Arman is in love with Thony. However, what makes us think this; that it’s not just an infatuation, or strong liking? I want to take an objective view on things, and I’ll do the best I can while looking at some key moments. I’d like to hear your objective thoughts as well!

Let’s begin with the very first moment Arman met Thony. He was physically attracted to her right from the get-go, going so far as saying, “anyone who doesn’t see you is blind”, i.e. she is memorably beautiful. It’s subtle, but not subtle. Later on he straight up tells her he likes her. Throughout the episode, he’s already looking at her like she’s a tall drink of water in a desert. It’s purely surface-based.

Fast-forward to episode 3 to when he saves her from Tarik’s assault. Arman tries to comfort Thony by touching her. After she backs off from him twice, he immediately gets angry. This could be seen as the ugly side of obsession rearing its head. Heck, Arman looks absolutely crazed as he watches Thony leave. When an object of obsession is taken away, the person obsessing will lash out. However, it could be seen as Arman starting to become confused with how he sees Thony. Earlier on, he received a drawing from her son, which clearly moved him. But his expression, though a half-smile, lacked a little enthusiasm; he was seemingly brushing it off when he excused himself. So, in this episode, it could be a mixture of both.

In episodes 4 and 5, we begin to see Arman starting to take a more personal interest in Thony and her life. He can tell when she’s troubled. We see him become concerned about Luca’s health and wellbeing. He also is impressed by her actions, and he slides into a more easygoing relationship with her. When he finds out about the FBI, he attempts to try to control himself for her sake but fails. A tear manages to escape, and when she suggests they work together, he loses that hold on his emotions. Again, we see his confusion as to what his relationship with Thony really is. When he calls to meet with her, then, I believe he realizes that she is a person and cares about how she feels. He sees her more than just a worker and a pretty object to look at. Thus begins the shift from infatuation to like.

So, we’re now at episode 6. A lot of things go on for Arman emotionally in this episode. We see him hesitate to do things because he is concerned over her safety. But he agrees to go along with it because he knows it’s what Thony needs to do for Luca. Later on, when she is upset, Arman comforts her, and gradually he is feeling and sharing in her pain, even crying silent tears. He hates seeing her hurt like this. Empathy is so pivotal in building and sustaining a successful relationship, and Arman is displaying it wonderfully. He’s making it all about her, not him, even letting her decide if she wants to kiss him. When Thony tears out of the room after the kiss, you can see the moment where Arman discovers that the attraction is more than skin-deep. Yes, they finally surrendered to the lust between them, but the kiss was initially borne out of strong emotions. 

Episode 7 has a few of the same actions we’ve seen before, which I’m not going to get into detail, since I meta’d that recently. One new thing that we do find out is Arman’s excuse for why he’s doing what he’s doing for Thony and Luca. He’s not exactly professing his love outright, but he’s admitting to being in deep; deep in the situation, deep in his feelings. There’s no going back. We also see for the first time Arman daydreaming about Thony. One could argue that him envisioning her in such a way, singing those words about him being her protector, it is selfish and dangerously obsessive. However, knowing that Thony in the present chose that song to sing, it’s safe to assume that she’s thinking of him in that way. And the lyric about adding initials to a monogram? Straight up marriage. He sees her in the dress he liked so much on her, and her exact hair style. Obviously, that dress made an impression on him. But to me, it’s more significant than that. I remember a moment from the show Moonlight’s series finale when Mick tells Beth that he remembers what she was wearing the day he first saw her on a case. She asks how he knows that, and he replies, “because I love you!” I’m unsure of the passage of time in The Cleaning Lady. It’s a stretch, but I’m juuuust saying.... 

Another peculiarity is Arman’s decision to let Thony leave after Luca’s health improves. He claims her debt to him will be paid after his big deal goes through. Now, if this were any other mobster, there’s no way she would be freed from this kind of situation. But Mr. “Once you’re in, you’re in” has changed his tune. He knows things will change once Luca gets better; Thony will have no need to stay in America. It’s another important step in Arman’s growth. He’s no longer obsessed in keeping her around. He loves her enough to let her live her life.

Finally, we come upon episode 8. Here, we see an incredibly lively Arman. He’s happier than we’ve ever seen him. Thony had given him an in to not only take them to Mexico, but to stay while they’re there. He’s given the chance to have a normal day in the life; be a family man. And I think he enjoyed it. Arman, in the weeks following the first kiss, has gained more confidence in what he feels for Thony and has subtly shown her as such while still respecting her marriage. But, now that there’s a possibility their time together could be coming to an end, he requests a song, in his native language no less, that describes how he feels about her. If he can only have this one night with her, he’s going to go all out. 

In episode 9 Arman is going to be hallucinating about Thony again. The vision says to come back for her. It’s another thing that could be labeled as infatuation. However, in the song, there’s a line that says “she’s the star that lights my being, and without her love, I am nothing”. I believe that Arman thinks that Thony’s reaction to the dance, the following kiss, and her beseeching expression before he leaves the clinic, is a sign that she feels the same way, even just a little. So seeing her as he’s clinging to life tells me that she’s his reason to live.

So, is Arman in love with Thony? After laying out all the facts, I can objectively say that, yes, he is. She makes him a better man, and he wants to change his ways. Nadia says as much. She throws the word love in his face when talking about how Thony see him as a hero. The writers could have used another word, but they went with love. Everything in TV writing is purposeful. Yeah, no getting around that.

As I was thinking about what to put in this meta, it suddenly occurred to me how The Cleaning Lady really is a modern retelling of Beauty and the Beast. I mean, here you have a working-class lady offering her services to a wealthy, powerful, dangerous man in order to stay alive and save her family’s lives. Their dynamic, at first, is a bit on the rough side, but as time goes on, they slip into a friendship. It gets to a point where he falls in love, and realizes he needs to set her free because he believes it’s best for her to be with her family with no obligation to him. He doesn’t care about his happiness; only hers. Even if it means he’ll lose his chance at humanity again. I can only hope that in next week’s finale, Arman will give Thony something to “look back and remember” him by. Then next season she’ll surprise him by returning, because she loves him, too.