#but once i did realise .. a lot of my tendencies started to make sense and i started to be able to identify shit abt myself better and know

[banglatown]

.

#in reality - on the relationship front anyway #i’m not ready for a relationship and i don’t think i ever have been #i’m incredibly emotional and immature and so i attract emotionally unavailable ppl … bc i myself am also emotionally unavailable … dude tht #was a tough pill to swallow i’ll tell you tht for free .. #but once i did realise .. a lot of my tendencies started to make sense and i started to be able to identify shit abt myself better and know #what i need and want #like trauma is horrible but like it doesn’t make any of us bad ppl … but we all need to stop ppl who trigger our abandonment or attachment #issues .. DEAD IN THEIR TRACKS #now you can be wondering ‘beebs .. how dyek they’re doing tht xyz’ #okay .. do they make you feel anxious? like not just 🦋 but like … ANXIOUS #like do you find yourself become unhinged so if they reply to you #… tht’s it … tht’s literally it #and how you stop them is … literally just remove them off of everything .. bloque bloque bloque #as far as they’re concerned you’re a fucking phantom (one of the few times i’ll excuse ghosting) #DO NOT EVER ACCEPT THT SHIT FROM NO ONE #bc none of our days r over and yk what … i do believe our persons are out there … i do 🪽🪽🪽 #but we need to be patient for them #n i do think the universe is on our sides yk #like i think it makes these ppl tht IT KNOWSSS are bad for us hurt us to push them away from us … bc we don’t need them bad vibrations #i leave you w this oscar wilde quote i love: #‘never love anyone who treats you like you’re ordinary’ #you’ve got this i’ve got this we’ve all got this 🧿 love n light #beebs.txt

[ra-scheln]

OC Meme

Tagged by @messiahzzz – thank you! I don’t think I’ve ever really talked about Tynera on my blog, but I did promise myself I would share more of my creations in 2024, soooo...

A quick rundown – she’s a seldarine drow who turned her back on Lolth when she found her way to the cult of Lathander, and subsequently became a cleric of his.

In BG3, she chooses to see the tadpole as a test to show that she can persevere through adversity and bring light and new beginning to the darkness, as Lathander teaches. She made generally “good” choices and romanced Lae’zel. As of the epilogue, the two of them are living together close to where Shadowheart made her cottage, raising Xan as their son and supporting the liberation of the Githyanki people from afar.

Basics

- Full name: Tynera Maerret

- Gender: cis female

- Sexuality: bisexual with a strong tendency towards women

- Pronouns: She/her

Other

- Family: House Maerret – a minor noble drow house I created

Father: Kinastyrr Osviir

Mother: Laraea Maerret

Grandmother/main childhood attachment figure: Neerlinva Maerret

Birthplace: Maerimydra

- Job: Cleric of Lathander – I imagine that she’s pretty far down any hierarchy, as she hasn’t been a cleric very long yet.   

- Phobias: if any, a light case of agoraphobia

- Guilty pleasures: spending days on end in luxury baths, expensive jewellery. Also whatever the Faerûnian equivalent of violent slasher movies is.

- Hobbies: dancing, singing, poetry performance – she doesn’t really write herself, but she enjoys reciting poetry with friends

Morals

- Alignment: Lawful Good

 - Sins: Pride, Greed, Gluttony

- Virtues: Determination, Idealism, Compassion, Courage

This or That

- Introvert / Extrovert

- Organized / Disorganized

- Close-minded / Open-minded

- Calm / Anxious / Restless

- Disagreeable / Agreeable / In between

 - Cautious / Reckless / In between

- Patient / Impatient / In between

- Outspoken / Reserved / In between

- Leader / Follower / Flexible

- Empathetic / Unempathetic / In between

- Optimist / Pessimist / Realist

- Traditional / Modern / In between

- Hard-working / Lazy

Relationships

- OTP: Lae’zel/Tynera — it started as a fling, but honestly neither of them is made for casual arrangements. Tynera fell very quickly for Lae’zel’s resilience and devotion. It takes longer for Lae’zel to allow herself to recognise her feelings, but once she does, she melts into Tynera's warmth like a cat basking in a ray of sunshine.

Lae’zel calls Tynera, as in canon, “zhak vo'nfynh duj” – my joy. Tynera calls Lae’zel “sussun ussta” – my light.

- Acceptable Ships: none.  

- OT3: see above – Tynera would probably be open to having sex with others, but she respects Lae’zel’s wishes for exclusivity. On an emotional level, she is also monogamous.

- Brotp: Yes ->

-  Gale/Tynera— they are both fairly passionate in their respective fields and are glad that they don’t have to hold back in the other’s presence. Gale’s more relaxed level-headedness helps Tynera shed some of her more impulsive and judgemental tendencies. Likewise, Gale basks in Tynera’s unwavering support and affection.

- Shadowheart/Tynera — In the beginning, they butt heads a lot, since their gods are explicit enemies. Over the course of the game, they start to realise that they have much more in common than sets them apart. Shadowheart helps Tynera find ways to incorporate her faith in their daily lives, when they are in the shadow-cursed lands, where it’s difficult to perform sun-related rituals. They also share a taste for the macabre.

- Notp: none, she gets along with almost anyone. Though, now that I’ve finished her PT, I don’t think it makes sense for her to end up with anyone of the companions but Lae’zel.

Tagging: @faerielli, @zerfindung, @kaldurcalm, @lewdisescariot, @ghastlytofu, @athousandcowboys and whoever also wants to do this!

#no pressure of course! #this was so fun #I'm so looking forward to reading about everyone else's blorbos <3 #bg3 #OCs #OC: tynera #OC meme #edit: had to go back and fix typos. grr #OTP: light and joy

[demonzoro]

For character questions: zoro 2 3 7 and 8. And then doflamingo 25 🥺

HIIIII STEPH <3 TACKLES YOU TO THE GROUND

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

you know i have lots and lots of 'It Is That Deep' meta for zoro, but my favorite canon thing? he looks like moss and has three swords. simultaneously the goofiest and COOLEST guy around.

3. Least favorite canon thing about this character?

once again oda's misogynistic projections i.e. not fighting women (kuina beat his ass) and that one panel in skypiea when he says 'she's a woman' after enel fries robin (kuina beat his ass). there's truly another ridiculous level of 'WHY would you do that' when zoro's backstory and entire ambition revolves around keeping his promise to his best friend to be the best swordsmasters in the world, regardless of gender. anyways i know him personally and he would NOT fucking say that

7. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you like?

there's a very specific beat where people portray zoro's sense of protectiveness/devotion/care where it comes across that he's not the best equipped to articulate it, but it's a state in which he lives and breathes it. i think that's EXACTLY where he's at his best. it's just such an interesting thread to articulate for him as the author/artist, and one of the rare occasions where i don't mind that feeling of "i see the maker's hand in this. i see what you did there".

8. What's something the fandom does when it comes to this character that you despise?

conflating his battlelust for bloodlust. everyone STOP getting it twisted 📣📣📣 he likes the blood and pain BECAUSE he likes the challenge and risk of putting his skills and life on the line. he gets his rocks off on the idea he'll be a better swordsman by the end of every battle. i'm not a huge fan of people portraying zoro with serial killer tendencies just because they want him to be edgier. i don't think the act of killing is fun for him; he wants a good fight, and only with people that pick it/are in the business for it. 'make him edgier' he has three swords hasn't his pussy popped enough.

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

AND FROM OUTTA NOWHERE- DOFLAMINGOOOO!!! my first impression was that he was the perfect villain to hate. it was a relentless campaign in my head of "i hope he crashes and burns". i really enjoyed the dimension in that we really saw... everything from his backstory to ascent, golden era, and then catastrophic fall. REALLY ENJOYABLE TO HATE.

now, you have absolutely ruined it because BEFORE he was comfortably opaque to me and your fics have made him so utterly transparent. seeing the convoluted knots he ties himself in while knowing how he started and how he ends... really hooks something in my brain. it's not sympathy so much as... finally seeing the gears of some awful contraption and realising it's all melted in there. whatever. your writing once again changing my brain chemistry

*

send me a character + a number from 1-26!

#did you send in 25 so i cld gush abt doffy #uno reverse card im gushing abt YOU !!!!! #thank you for sending in so many zoro q's also... #u know me so well aw shucks #answered #slydiddledeedee #long post

[cabezadeperro]

Hi! Not sure if this counts as a prompt or not, but I was wondering if you could share some of your Fox headcanons? In the ask game you said you had a lot of opinions on his character that aren’t shared by the fandom at large. Only if you want too, of course 😊

lol no it's not a prompt, dw! and i love talking about my blorbos, so

first let's get out of the way the fact that i am by nature a pretty contrary person who likes doing things their own way, and that i don't always have thoughts and opinions about stuff, but when i do,,,, oh boy.

back when i started outlining the falling man i realised i didn't quite know who My fox was. there were a couple of relatively widespread characterisations, and back then i already was starting to not enjoy that particular interpretation too much.

so i started thinking about him and trying to figure out what kind of character he could be, because let's be real: like cody, he doesn't actually have like an actual personality in the show. he's a plot device, like most minor characters in the clone wars cartoon.

and i have to confess something else: i don't like the whole inhibitor chips thing too much. i know why it exists and i think it works within the context of the show, and it's absolutely horrifying, but i like my characters messy and complicated and doing awful shit in full possession of their will and thoughts, and i don't like how the chips basically robs the clones of their agency, so.

i think most of the more popular fanon characterizations hinge on the idea that fox wasn't himself when he shot fives. however, the way i write him is built on the idea that he knew what he was doing and did it anyway. i explained it to my friends as "ned stark meets classic noir detective" iirc.

i do think there is a tendency to woobify him in fandom, and while i do not like that very much (i'm allergic to woobies in general lol), i think he's someone who's been living in survival mode for a very long time.

i think he was chosen specifically for the coruscant guard because he's clever and cunning and competent but lacks a certain. hm. he knows the system's fucked and how to thrive in it but he still can't see a way beyond its limits. he has married his sense of self to the things he can do for other people and to the way other people perceive him. he doesn't believe in the system and he doesn't trust it, he only trusts his brothers, but he will work and work and work for the system because that's who he is and what he does. and he knows that by doing this he's actively harming his brothers and isolating himself and making everyone miserable, but he is like a rat in a cage, and he just can't see a way out.

i like thinking about him as cody's opposite, in a way, and that's also one of the reasons why i ship them. cody's priority is his duty to his brothers; fox's priority is his duty, and then his brothers.

i think he's very lonely and very depressed in that functional way some of us get. i also think he is by nature very kind and very selfless and very brave and very. honourable, in a way? he has a moral code and he sticks to it as much as he can. he's also an adrenaline junkie and can be very um. casually, viciously brutal in a very workman-like way? and i also think that he's very easy to like and love once he allows himself to take off his bucket, and one of the most infuriating people in existence. he doesn't say shit, ever, and expects you to guess what he thinks and feels and why he does the things he does.

i have headcanons for his relationships with some of the clones, but this is long enough lmao. sorry!!!!!!

#commander fox #uh oh. sorry anon. this got Long #maríadont #lo de los clones #uhhh how do i tag this #sw headcanons

[missnight0wl]

So, I talked quite a bit about Peregrine lately, and… You guessed it, I’m gonna talk about him some more. Because there’s one thing in the recent chapter (Y7Ch40) that really made me think, especially after reading the newest datamines (so spoilers for that as well).

Also, this is kind of written in reference to this post by @indigobackfire​. She talked there about two ideas: Peregrine impersonating our real father or selling the siblings to R. And while she talked more about the second possibility, I’m gonna focus on the first one.

Finally, disclaimer for this whole post: I still do not trust vault!Jacob. I will actually talk about it a bit more in another post because there’s the ask about it waiting in my inbox. However, for the sake of this discussion, let’s assume Jacob is genuine and innocent.

Alright, so in Y7Ch40, we have this part when MC and Jacob talk about what they remember about Peregrine:

Their conversation is basically summarised with this sentiment:

And at first, I was like: “Yeah, well, it makes sense because they were so young when Peregrine left”. But then I realised that to have memories even like this, MC would probably have to be like… three or four years old? Which means that Jacob would be about ten. And in that case… shouldn’t he have some more solid memories? I mean, a ten-year-old is not that young. Sure, it’s still a child, and yes, it was said that Peregrine travelled a lot, so he was often absent. But on the other hand, it seems that he was a somewhat decent father once he was there. So, why Jacob’s memories are so hazy?

Well… what if it’s a hint that those memories are not real?

I mean, I have the whole theory about Peregrine controlling Rakepick through false memories. And even if I’m not right about this one, Y7Ch44 basically confirms that Olivia’s memories were tampered with to hide the truth about Duncan’s death. One way or another, there is something going on with memories. It’s also interesting how Peregrine insists on reminiscing while he’s alone with MC:

Again, it’s somewhat understandable, considering that it’s literally all he has, but… maybe he wants to make sure that MC explores properly the memories he planted?

In other words, Peregrine wouldn’t even have to impersonate our real father. He’d simply need to create the right memories. Funnily enough, it’d explain why those memories were never mentioned by MC before. They simply didn’t exist yet. And their real father? Perhaps he died shortly after MC was born or something.

By the way, I really recommend in this place to check the HP wiki page about The Toadstool Tales. Because the part “Reaction by wizarding children” says:

The Toadstool Tales were universally loathed by wizarding children, and were eventually banned, presumably by the Ministry of Magic because they had a tendency to induce uncontrollable retching in the children who read them, as well as an "immediate demand to have the book taken from them and mashed into pulp".

I don’t know if Jam City simply didn’t do their homework while they chose this book instead of The Tales of Beedle the Bard (which is both more popular in-universe and recognisable for players), but… If JC did check information about The Toadstool Tales, and chose it anyway, it’s a little bit odd. And maybe suspicious. Just sayin’.

Of course, we kind of have a problem with Dumbledore here. Because when he talks with Peregrine, he doesn’t even question that he’s our father. However, there are two things to consider. First of all, I suspect that Dumbledore pretends to be oblivious to gain an advantage over Peregrine (more about this idea in this post). And why would Peregrine believe that Dumbledore believes him? I mean, think about it. It turns out that Peregrine and the Mother met while still at Hogwarts. It’s quite possible that they also started dating back then as it seems to be a trend in the wizarding world. So, why wouldn’t Dumbledore assume that they eventually got married and got kids? I imagine that a Headmaster doesn’t necessarily follow the private lives of his former students – or at least that’s what Peregrine could think. And notice that Dumbledore technically talks about him only as a student. I believe we didn’t interact so far with anyone who would actually know Peregrine as our father (before our introduction, at least). 

Also, we can make it extra creepy! Because we can all agree that the siblings are super important for some reason, right? But what if they’re special not because they’re related to Peregrine, but because they’re related to the Mother? What if there’s some prophecy or something that the Mother will bear extraordinary children one day? Peregrine learnt about it somehow as a student already, and that’s why he tried to get together with her. It didn’t work out for some reason, so now, he’s trying to take us by force. Isn’t it delightfully creepy?

I know I’m getting totally carried away, but I’m kind of having fun.

Seriously though, even if Peregrine is our biological father after all… I still feel like we can expect some more memory tampering when it comes to him and MC.

#long post #hogwarts mystery #hphm #hphm spoilers #hphm datamine #hphm mc #hphm jacob #hphm peregrine #jacob's family #albus dumbledore #theory #hphm theory

[lizasayspsychology]

why can't I have a happy relationship?

Do you want to know why you are attracted to certain type of people? or why you have certain problems in your relationships again and again?

The attachment theory can help you find answers to these questions.

According to this theory, attachment style is developed during childhood. So basically our attachment style is a type of attachment we had towards our parents as children, which later influences our romantic relationships.

There are 4 styles of attachment:

Secure attachment style

People with this attachment style tend to have more happy relationship with their partners, family members and friends. It comes from the fact that these people felt safe, understood and valued while communicating with their parents or caregivers. As a result these people feel that they’re worthy of love and don’t need constant external reassurance.

People with secure attachment style usually tend to:

-easily trust others;

-set clear boundaries;

-feel comfortable both: being alone and being in close relationship;

-regulate their emotions;

-be capable of accepting rejection.

Anxious attachment style

People with this attachment style are most likely to get in unhealthy or abusive relationships. As kids they usually have unpredictable interaction with their caregivers, who could sometimes pay a lot of attention to the child while other times be very distant and emotionally unavailable. As a result this person can develop a sense of responsibility for caregiver’s emotional state and mood, and make an extraordinary efforts to “make them happy” or get love in return.

Adults with such attachment style usually have signs of codependency (a way of behaving in relationships where one person is dependent on moods and emotions of their partner and usually tend to prioritize them in a relationship).

People with anxious attachment style usually tend to:

-constantly worry if their partner loves them;

-have intense fear of rejection and abandonment;

-seek approval from others;

-have jealous tendencies;

-have difficulty being alone.

Avoidant attachment style

People with this attachment style are extremely independent and uncomfortable with intimacy. They are usually looking for a reason to leave the relationship. It may be caused by strict or emotionally unavailable caregivers. For example they could be very busy with work or not being able to identify even their own emotions and feelings.

People with avoidant attachment style usually tend to:

-avoid emotional or physical intimacy;

-feel a strong sense of independence;

-feel uncomfortable expressing their feelings;

-have a hard time trusting people;

-believe they don’t need others in their life;

-scared of being controlled.

Anxious-avoidant attachment style

This attachment style contains the most difficult traits of both anxious and avoidant attachment styles. Anxious-avoidant people usually spend much of their time alone or in abusive or dysfunctional relationships. As kids this people could experience neglect, physical or emotional abuse. As children they did not feel safe in communication with their parents or other caregivers.

People with anxious-avoidant attachment style usually tend to have:

-inability to regulate emotions;

-difficulty trusting others;

-high level of anxiety;

-hard time trusting people;

-unpredictable and confusing behavior;

-signs of both avoidant and anxious attachment styles;

-mood or substance abuse disorders.

The good news is that it's possible to change your attachment style if you start working on it.

I personally used to live with anxious-avoidant attachment style without even realising it. But once I started working on myself, studying psychology and implementing gained knowledge in my daily life, I managed to get much closer to having a secure attachment style.

You can do it as well!

I hope you learned something new about yourself today.

Thank you for your time reading this :)

#anxious attachment #attachement #attachment issues #unhealthy attachments

[of-nyon]

just gonna fuckin

just gonna pick up some of my blorbos and sprinkle them on to the Lost Light to see what happens, don't mind me

------

Having had however many decades to settle did not make the scene any less grisly.

The facility security feed showed them some idea of what to prepare for, but the gory sprawl of limbs and bodies, illuminated by the soft blue glow from the life-pod, made Rodimus wrinkle his nose nonetheless.

“Gross,” he said, gingerly poking with his foot at one of the metallic bodies. These guys weren't human, but they did do a very good job of passing off as humans in power armour. Humanity had died out on this version of Earth long ago, leaving a technological marvel of a race behind that were slightly hampered by, from what records had been dug up, the unfortunate tendency to go into insane berserker mode and start slaughtering everything in sight.

When the Lost Light had arrived, the one and only life-signal on the entire planet that wasn't non-sentient wildlife detected was in this room, centered at the back in the glowing blue pod, upright and still with its charge intact.

There was a sea of bodies between the blue-armoured mech in the pod and Rodimus, and the once-Prime sent a quick ping to the main channel before he began to pick his way through.

[found our guy, just where the cameras said he would be. Gonna see if I can-]

[Rodimus, no!] Ratchet immediately scolded, but Rodimus was barely listening, his holoform's eyes fixed on the life-pod and all the soft promises it offered, blocking out the carnage of its surroundings.

[Any of those pipsqueaks alive?] Whirl hailed. [I thought that red guy was cool.]

The feed had cut out mid-brawl, but to outside observers, at least, it looked like their target had defenders. Four against – against a lot.

His foot clanged against something, and against common sense, he looked down. A helmet lolled to the side, its owners body still clutching a massive gatling gun that had left a huge spray of bullet holes in one wall and a mangled trail of destruction in its wake.

“Oh, shit,” he said out loud, “This i-”

“Rodimus!” A cacophony of voices and movement destroyed the silence the scene had rested in, “Do not touch anything...! Drift-!”

“Here, I'm here!” His amica's voice echoed after Ratchet's, and soon a slim hand gently enclosed Rodimus's. “C'mon, babe,” Drift said, trying to steer him away, back. “Let the clean-up crew-”

“We shouldn't leave them,” Rodimus suddenly blurted, turning to Drift with wide, Matrix-blue eyes – the same shade of blue, Drift would later realise, as the quietly unassuming life-pod. “The – this is Purple Guy. We should bring the others back.”

“All right,” Drift agreed easily, trying to tug him back, but Rodimus was unmoving. He turned back to the life-pod, as if in a trance, and began moving again. Drift cursed, unwilling to let go, and was pulled along.

More mechs poured into the room, Ratchet at the forefront, huffing angrily as he took in the scene and hurried forward before their Co-Captain jeopardised the one reason they'd come down here in the first place.

“Rodimus!” He bellowed, but the target of his ire didn't seem to hear Ratchet, still stepping unerringly forward.

“Ratchet, see if you can get the other four from the security footage,” Drift offered, turning his head over his shoulder with an apologetic look. “I'll stop him doing anything stupid.”

“So you say,” Ratchet said, hands on his hips, but he stopped to look around.

One was easy to spot, bright cyan armour only somewhat dulled from the passage of time and the smearing of various viscera and fluids. Ratchet put his trust in Drift and picked his way over to the far corner, where it looked like the blue mech had huddled over something, facing the wall with its back exposed to the battle.

Ratchet bent down on only slightly creaky knees and moved to pull at a blue shoulder.

He blinked at the sight before him as the mech rolled away – revealing a blue visor disturbingly like Jazz's – to reveal another, huddled in the arms of its protector.

The smallest of the four mechs who'd defended the room and its precious contents from a veritable army of attackers. Dark navy, with spiky auburn hair poking out from the back of a red helmet.

He didn't need to scan to know what the results would be, but he did so anyway. The only non-Cybertronian positive pinged from the pod a few feet away, where Rodimus had sank to his knees in front of it, bringing Drift with him – but, thankfully, not about to do anything ill-advised.

[We found Red Guy,] Drift commed him with a grim set to his tone.

“Let's get the ones Rodimus wants out, then we'll decide what to do with the main one,” Megatron's voice announced. He, along with the others at the back, had heard their Co-Captain's request to Drift.

Thank Primus for practical mechs, Ratchet thought, then grimaced that he'd thought that about Megatron, then chided himself that these were different times.

“I've got two over here,” Ratchet called. “They're locked together, I think. No life-signals, but they're otherwise in remarkably good shape.”

“'Cept they're dead,” Whirl said cheerfully, tromping past with Cyclonus in his wake to help with the heavy lifting. “Aww, they're cute, ain't they?”

“Whirl,” Cyclonus admonished lightly.

“Well they are! Tailgate's taller'n em, probably!”

“Come on, let's get them out of here,” Ratchet said, turning to watch Megatron make his way into the room. The ex-warlord paused at the centre, watching the huddled forms of Rodimus and Drift.

“Rodimus?” Megatron's voice was careful. “Are you all right?”

Wordlessly, Rodimus stood up. Something slipped out of his arms – a body of one of the attackers – and it fell to the floor with a series of clangs, unheeded.

“Ratchet.” He turned around, holding a red frame in his arms that was minibot-sized to a regular Cybertronian, but in the hands of his holoform was tall and lanky, big oversized feet awkwardly hanging down. A long waterfall of spun-gold hair spilled out from the back of the helm of the fallen bot, nearly brushing against the floor and haloed from the blue light. “Can you-?”

“We should bring the life-pod with us,” Megatron said, bending down to hoist the purple gatling-gun wielder with somewhat less reverence than Rodimus held his pile of broken metal. “If we can extract the living mech successfully, perhaps it can do repair work on these ones later.”

“You think?” Rodimus's eyes brightened, losing their troubling blank look. He looked hopefully from Megatron to Ratchet, who shrugged.

“Worth a shot,” the medic said. “Can't promise anything, though,” he warned as Whirl walked past with the smaller mech from the corner slung undignified over his shoulder. “Not with alien tech.” Cyclonus followed with a somewhat more respectful bridal carry for the cyan mech.

Rodimus blinked, and seemed to come back to himself. “Great,” he said. “Get the science team in here to get the pod out, then. Probably don't wanna wake the poor guy up in here if we can help it.”

Ratchet made a noise of general agreement, turning away before he could see Drift's relieved expression as the swordsmech came to gently put a hand on Rodimus's shoulder.

“We're fine,” Rodimus said, looking uncertainly down at the lifeless metal he was holding and trying not to panic as his hands and arms became increasingly slick with oil and coolant and who-knew-what-else from whatever wounds the red mech had sustained before going down one final time, with his last enemy. “Uh, slag, this one needs patching up, he's bleeding out-”

“Here.” Ratchet hurried over, cursing as he nearly tripped over a body, already pulling gauze out from his subspace and brandishing a welder. “Lights, get me some proper lighting-”

Drift pulled out a flashlight, the beam catching motes in the air as it threw the red mech into stark relief. One dangling hand was clutching to some small object in a death-grip, but that was for later. Of far more concern was the hole in his chest. A Cybertronian spark would have guttered out long ago, but these – strange near-human mechs perhaps, perhaps, could be salvaged, if Megatron's idea of using the life-pod worked.

Ratchet directed his two temporary nurses and got to work, settling into a familiar rhythmn as he welded sliced fuel-line equivalents and closed off ruptures. Aside from the lack of a spark chamber, the internal make-up didn't seem that dissimilar to what Ratchet was used to, finishing in near-record time. As he worked, Brainstorm, Perceptor and Nautica entered the room, Nautica offering a sympathetic nod before the three came to stand before the blue glow and discuss in low, subdued voices the best course of action.

“This one goes in the pod first,” Ratchet announced as he finished up, accounting for the first time in his life he'd rescued a dead mech from bleeding out. “Barring any internal injuries, the others looked okay.”

“Okay,” Rodimus repeated, that small, treacherous note of hope reverberating. “All right, let's – let's get him back.”

“Could be a femme,” Drift noted. “All that hair. And that chest-?”

“Pah,” Rodimus waved him off. “If we're going by chests, then Shockwave's a femme.”

No-one had much of an argument against that.

---

SYSTEM REBOOT ENGAGED

IN PROGRESS...

DEFRAGMENTING....

DEFRAGMENTATION COMPLETE.

THANK YOU FOR USING WEIL INDUSTRIES MEDI-STASIS MODEL '21-86'!

SYSTEM REBOOT COMPLETE.

HAVE A NICE DAY.

Light flickered against the outside of his eyelids as a small, pleasant jingle sounded to herald the end of a stay in a stasis-tank. X scrunched his face shut against the sudden onslaught of colour, noise, and – ugh, scent. The sickly sterilised-medbay smell only brought bad memories associated with it, so he supposed he ought to go about seeing how he could leave as soon as possible. He felt well enough, after all.

“He's waking up!” An unfamiliar voice exclaimed, excited, and was then hushed by someone else, also unknown, and X's body tensed up at the sudden thought that this could not be Hunter HQ. That it was all gone, and -

He opened his eyes. Two people were in his immediate vicinity, both looking at him – a young red-haired man, leaning in close with an eager expression, and an older, grey-haired man in doctor's scrubs.

X blinked. Threat assessment pinged back: non-violent, but the rest didn't make any sense. They were – they looked identical to humans in a way Reploids had never really managed, even newgens, but they certainly weren't, couldn't be, if any of these readings were to make sense.

Non-violent. No weapons visible. Non-hostile body language. X made himself relax, despite the strange, near dream-like world he'd woken up in.

“Hello,” he said, reaching to disengage himself fully from the stasis-tank.

“Oh – let me–” the doctor stepped forward, but X was quick and efficient. He'd done it lots of times for himself, plus he was required – if physically possible – to be there whenever Zero came out of any kind of medical stasis – it had taken far too many injured medical personnel to get that written into Zero's patient chart. In short, X knew a thing or two about the practicalities of getting out of these things.

“My name is X,” he greeted, palms up, to show he was friendly. “It's nice to meet you.”

#I AM VIBING I AM LIVING #YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW LONG I'VE WANTED TO DO SOMETHING LIKE THIS #my fic #transformers #megaman x #Absolutely No Canon Allowed Zone #also #xzero #this is me we are talking about #they are Going To Be In Love #will probably go on ao3 eventually but right now this is pure vibes #anyway here's what i did today #me: I don't like how MMZ invalidates the events of MMX because the world ends up fucked anyway #also me:

[kaliboudica]

CW mental health talk

I think a lot of why I'm Like This is because I fundamentally see myself as a tragic loser. Like a lot of geeky autistic queer people I have had a lot of traumatising formative experiences with exclusion, starting from very early on in life, earlier than bullying typically starts for most people.

So I've grown up with this innate sense that I have been designated as Less Worthy. Of what? Well, basically anything I can think of. I have this deep-seated usually unconscious belief that the universe is out to make me specifically have a worse life than the people around me. This is where a lot of my outward anger and some of my worst behaviours come from.

"why does everyone else get to have things I wish I could have but I don't? Why do you get to have this and I don't? I'm just like you, I'm just as worthy, you're denying me something I'm entitled to"

But of course, the universe isn't out to get me, I may have some narcissistic tendencies but I'm at least humble enough to eventually recognise that I'm not the main character of life. But at the same time, it's true that there are a lot of things about my life that sucks and that I feel real frustration with.

So this realisation that I'm not a special victim didn't immediately result in personal growth, instead what that did first is turn that outward facing anger inwards towards myself.

The realisation that some of your problems and shortcomings are your own fault is supposed to be a reminder that you have agency in the world, but in the mindset I was in, this didn't help, in the short term it made me worse.

"If some of my problems are my fault, if my failure to find the things I want is my own fault, that means the reason I can't have things I want in life is because I really am the fucked up loser the universe designated me as, as proven by my own incompetence"

And so this results in really vicious self-punishing self-hatred. I have physically harmed myself a lot while in this mindset. I'm talking my face covered in bruises from punching myself level of self-harm. I'm convinced if a clone had appeared next to me then I would have badly hurt them. In fact, it's that next realisation that helped me snap out of it. I once imagined somebody else describing themselves thinking like this, who had experienced a lot of disappointment in life, *and I found myself really wanting to hurt that other person* and that deeply frightened me.

I found that I had internalised my own narrative so such an extent that I was applying it to other people. I had started applying my deep-rooted belief in my fundamental loserishness to other people too.

The basic message is: "people who are unfulfilled in life, who have been hurt and who hold themselves back, who are shy and lack confidence, are deeply scornful people who are worthy of being looked down on, mocked, and hated. That is the correct analysis of personal failings"

I can't bring myself to keep thinking like that. I don't want to. It's a miserable way to live. But a big part of changing that message is to come to a new understanding of myself, my life experiences, my past behaviour, my appearance, basically everything about who I am. And I don't yet know how to do that.

I realise that I have agency in this world, and I can change my approach to life and other people, but I feel stuck. I think about what kind of person I would like to be, and that person has a fundamentally different experience of life than what I have had. It's an impossible goal. I can't become someone who hasn't had the experiences I have had, I can't become someone who hasn't done the things I've done, including some deeply shameful behaviours that have hurt others, as some of you are well aware.

So now I just kind of don't know where to go. I'm seriously struggling to accept myself, all of myself, including my shortcomings and the harm I have caused. I know I need to do that to be better.

But it's like, I'd rather be someone better, but better people don't have this kind of history, do they? Fundamentally Good People who are kind and confident and intelligent haven't lived the kind of life I have. That's why I feel trapped, I feel trapped by my past and I'd really rather just start life over from the beginning but that isn't an option, so what now?

Obviously there are people in my life who like me and care about me, and when I'm not in the pits I'm really grateful for that. I haven't always been good at being grateful, it's led to a lot of misery for myself and others. But even knowing that logically, part of me just doesn't get it. I wish I could see myself through your eyes. I'm at the point of knowing I can't see myself as primarily a tragic loser any more, and I know that there are other people who don't look at me like that, but I can't get it to compute.

[staringdownabarrel]

Anyway, last night, I posted about having just finished Mistress of the Empire by Raymond E. Feist and Janny Wurts. Given that this was the third book in the Empire trilogy, I thought I'd give my overall thoughts on that trilogy here. This ended up being a lot longer than I intended it to be, so the rest is gonna be under the cut.

I feel like the slavery issue was mishandled. This is genuinely my biggest gripe with the trilogy overall.

The thing with Mara is that while she is progressive by Tsurani standards, her progressive tendencies aren't initially based on empathy. They're based on pragmatism.

Early on, she's bringing in grey warriors because House Acoma needs them to survive and wouldn't be able to survive otherwise, for example. While she did later grow to see some of her early cohorts as her closest allies, this doesn't really change the fact that her initial decision to bring them in was very much based around a pragmatic need to survive, not out of a desire to raise people above their station.

Later on in Daughter of the Empire, her deal with the cho-ja queen was inspired partially because her ignorance of their culture caused her to act in a non-traditional way, and partially because she wanted to sweeten her deal over a competing family. This wasn't something she'd actually planned from the start. It was a pragmatic need to keep the money coming in and to have the extra military security a cho-ja hive could provide, and everything else she did that day was just how it worked out.

Towards the start of Servant of the Empire, it's also established that she hadn't really considered how her marriage to Bunto may have affected her servants until years after he'd died.

All of this suggests that while Mara is capable of empathy and she will act in empathetic ways, it's not always her primary motivation. It's also something she has to build up to; not something that always comes automatically to her.

Because of that, I think her evolution into an abolitionist, while a natural evolution, also isn't handled correctly. I don't think she would have pursued Kevin the way she did (and quite frankly, I don't think he ever should have warmed to her the way he did, given the dynamic). I think it would have been a more natural evolution for her to always consider Kevin a bit of a nuisance up until years after his return to Midkemia.

Really, the sequence of her becoming an abolitionist should have gone the other way. Instead of her first becoming an abolitionist when it came to human slavery and then cho-ja slavery, she should have been a cho-ja slavery abolitionist first.

This would have made more sense given that when Mara first started dealing with the cho-ja, it was in a situation where she had to deal with them as equals. Her contact with them afterwards was also much more regular than it was with the human slaves that she had on her properties. This would have allowed her to see these very alien creatures as individuals with a very different culture rather than just as servants as she might have otherwise.

I think this would have played into some of Mara's more pragmatic tendencies. Because a lot of her empathy stems from decisions she initially made for pragmatic reasons, it probably would have been easier for to make that leap with someone like a cho-ja queen she'd chosen to bring on rather than with human slaves she'd had other people buy for her.

Once that happened, I think she would have had an easier time with wanting to be a total abolitionist. It easily could have been an internal monologue for her where she came to the realisation that slavery in all forms is evil--a huge jump for someone in her society.

That being said, the slavery issue and the Mara/Kevin dynamic (something I've previously complained about in my post about Servant of the Empire extensively, so I won't rehash it here) are the biggest issues I have with this trilogy.

I think this trilogy generally did do a good job at conceptualising a very stagnant, very backwards political culture. This is especially the case given that for the most part, Raymond E. Feist tends to avoid being purposefully political in his books. (Yes, there's a lot of things in his books that can be read through a political lens and I'd encourage people to do so, but it's usually not an intended aspect of them.) For the most part, he's an escapist author writing escapist fiction.

I'm assuming this could be mostly Janny Wurts' influence, but as I've mentioned in previous posts, this series is the only interactions I've had with her writing. Really, the big things that I'm completely convinced were her influence were Mara being one of, if not the, best developed female characters in any of Feist's books, and that most of the romances are a bit better developed than what appear in his other books.

The thing with the political aspects of this book is that I really wish that the mainline Riftwar books had have been as critical of the Kingdom of the Isles as this trilogy was of the Empire of Tsuranuanni. While there's definitely degrees of awful and I don't think the Kingdom's issues are as pronounced as the Empire's (usually), I also think it needed a lot more explicit criticism in the mainline books than it actually got.

I think the political aspects were the ones I enjoyed the most here. When I first read this trilogy as a teenager, I wasn't really as into it because I wasn't as politically aware at the time, but I've enjoyed it more now that I am. Maybe if I reread this trilogy again in ten or fifteen years, I'll have a radically different view again, as I'll probably be even more politically aware at that point in time.

I still feel like a lot of the politics in this book boil down to "...this is our evil government who's evil, and these are our heroes who are good and heroic" that a lot of fantasy falls into. However, I can also see what this trilogy could have been if someone who was a bit more explicitly political in general had have written it.

This is really one of the big reasons why it's a shame that Feist isn't really fond of fan fiction of his books being written, and why for a long time a lot of fan fic sites wouldn't allow fan fics of his work to be uploaded to them. This is one of the prime examples of where I think a fan fic of his work probably could go a long way to fixing some of the stuff I take issue with.

The other part of this trilogy I like is that it manages to avoid a lot of the major issues that a lot of interquels have. While this trilogy more or less takes place concurrently with the first Riftwar trilogy (Magician, Silverthorn, and A Darkness at Sethanon), it doesn't really interact with that storyline too much. Yes, Pug shows up a few times, and yes, there are times where stuff that happens in that trilogy impacts what happens here, but it's not just a retelling of that story from a different perspective. It's its own story that happens to be in the same setting and around the same time.

This is honestly the best direction this trilogy could have gone in. I think one of the bigger issues I had with the mainline series (back when I last read it, ~10 years ago) was that it sorta treats Pug as the great man of history sometimes. This book generally avoids that for the most part, though it does acknowledge he was an important part of Kelewan's history.

Anyway, that's all I've got for now. I might have more later.

#raymond e. feist #janny wurts #riftwar #books #rant

[yr2-sem2-billie]

Reflections [10/5 Exercise]

Overall I am quite pleased with the result of our project an with the way our team worked together. The fact that we were very collaborative and looser in our assignment of roles and responsibilities was a little anxiety inducing at first but I soon realised that I think it helped us work better. My concern from the beginning in terms of group dynamics was that I have a tendency to get slightly impatient. I think a lot of that is to do with the age gap between myself and my peers. I have spent a bit of time working in areas and with people for whom time is money and you are expected to speak your mind. I was anxious to make sure I didn’t take over and become a taskmaster or dictatorial, especially after the fruit personality test in which I came out as an apple. I have taken many personality tests in different contexts throughout my life and I philosophical object to them. I understand and appreciate that it can be useful to bring self-awareness to your personality traits etc but I find that they are reductive and confirm a lot of your own biases about yourself and others. So I was a little disheartened by that experience. I think it meant that I actually didn’t play into my strengths as a motivator and organiser soon enough as I was too nervous about coming off a certain way. Once the time pressure started to build up I decided to lean into what I know I’m good at which is project managing and communicating what needs to be done, synthesising our direction and articulating it, like a producer. I do think that helped us meet our deadline. That being said I think in terms of the actual design aesthetic and choices I think we were all able to voice our opinions very freely and come to a unaninomous consensus on most things which was great. I am concious that in terms of designing I can learn a lot from my peers and a lot of them have more experience and visual and technical literacy than I do. I like the overal aesthetic of our BLAD. I’m glad we got the chance to try out a few more out there ideas instead of sticking really faithfully to our strict grid system. If we had more time I think it would have been good to keep ideating and pushing ourselves further.

In terms of feedback and the presentation it was a little frustrating that we didn’t properly articulate our central idea around the visual pun of the X frame. Luckily Mark and Aakifa had already heard it but I’m not sure it as very obvious through our presentation what our design direction was. Having said that, the work should be able to speak for itself without explanation so I wonder if maybe that idea just wasn’t strong enough. One thing I definitely wanted to hange earlier and probably should have spoken up about was that I did feel the presentation slide design shouldn’t have been in the same system as our publication. To me that never really made sense in terms of the brief and what we were being asked to do with the presenation. I didn’t speak up at the time because I thought we should prioritise other things given the time crunch. I helped Preeyal with the slide writing and so I had the opportunity to change the slides at the time or at least voice my concerns but I had a bit of a ‘pick your battles’ moment. Ultimatelu the slides looked really beautiful so I let it go but it was interesting that Mark and David both said to everyone that they should have been neutral and taken a back seat. I think having a really simple system for our slides would have also made Preeyal’s job a lot easier but it was all too late by the time I thought if it and I didn’t want to dictate extra work to her. 

Where I’m going to go with the individual aspect. I think I’m going to push the idea of visual puns, playfulness, post-modernism and anti-design further. I’m not 100% sure yet how but I want to really push things outside of the minimalist clean look.

#studio #602

[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.”

[dameronology]

you have my number {bucky barnes x reader}

summary: bucky barnes' memory is a little selective, thanks to all the brainwashing - but one thing he'll never forget is his love for you, even if you're a complete & utter pain in the ass. his ass. (based on deja vu by olivia rodigro)

^even tho this fic refers to bucky as having a new gf, the reader is still g.n :)

this is spoiler free! enjoyyy

- jazz xx

Your relationship with Bucky Barnes had been nothing short of a train wreck.

And frankly, that was putting it nicely.

It had been a short & passionate affair; intense and sweet and filled with so much emotion in such high concentrations that you'd both almost drowned in it. For every euphoric moment, there had been one so low that you'd scraped your knees on the ground. Climbing a ladder to heaven whilst simultaneously digging your own graves had taken its toll on you both, and eventually, you had no choice but to go your separate ways. It had been for your own sanity, really.

So there he was, tucked away in a neat little box in your brain, labelled don't touch, ever. Even when you were completely wasted, surrounded by your friends and their respective lovers, you never dared to venture back down that particular memory lane. Forgetting all the bad parts and selectively remembering the good parts was easy enough to do, but you had the common sense to remember why you'd broken up in the first place. Because Bucky Barnes, despite being easy on the eyes and having a charming sense of humour, was a pain in your fucking ass. He managed to press every one of your buttons without even trying and his ability to bring out the best in you was completely and entirely wiped out by his tendency to bring out the worst. That wasn't even getting started on his emotional hold-ups; a can of worms neither of you had dared to open until it became the very reason for your demise.

Six months had passed, and you'd managed to expertly avoid him. You worked different missions and Sam Wilson, god bless his sweet soul, went the extra mile to ensure your paths never crossed in a professional sense. On a personal level, however? That was a little more difficult. New York City felt a lot smaller after your break up. You found yourself occasionally ducking under your hood when you saw him on the F-train, or rushing to cross the road when you saw him coming towards you on the street.

That was when you had the whole city to lose yourself in; streets and shops and little food carts to distract yourself with should you need to. Being confined to the same room for a work party was a different story entirely, and one you didn't want to read. Yet, thanks to some insistence from your boss and a little grovelling from your colleagues, you found yourself rocking up to the former Avengers tower on a Friday night.

"So you do exist outside of your work uniform?" Sam Wilson greeted you with a quirked eyebrow.

"Yeah, yeah - nice to see you too, Wilson."

Despite your initial attempts to elbow him in the rips, he wrestled you off of him and pulled you into a tight hug. Sam was one of your favourite colleagues and oldest friends - he'd witnessed the rise and fall of your relationship with Bucky, and been there for you both during the break-up. That had been an exhausting few days, running between your respective apartments in an attempt to offer emotional support to you both.

"D'you want some champagne?" He asked.

"I'm good, but thank-"

You froze, eyes widening at the sight of James Barnes across the room. He looked quintessentially the same, bar for the fact his hair was a little longer and he had a fresh, pink scar under his left eye. Having ditched his usual attire for a black blazer, he looked good. Annoyingly so, in fact. It made you secretly grateful that you'd chosen to dress up a little more than usual too.

"- on second thoughts." You took the flute of champagne from Sam, also grabbing a shot of vodka from the same trey. It was gone in seconds.

"Need I ask?" Sam gave you a playful frown. His brown eyes followed your gaze over his shoulder, landing on the man you'd been staring at. "Ah. I need not."

"Sorry." You murmured. "We haven't actually spoken since, y'know."

"Since you had a break-up that made Ross and Rachel look good?"

"I don't think Bucky has ever seen Friends." You quipped.

"His loss." Sam shrugged. "You should talk to him."

"Nope." You snorted. "Absolutely not. I don't even know if he's moved on."

"Judging by the pretty blonde on his arm, I think he has," Sam replied. "Would you look at that! They're headed right for us."

That was a lot of information to process at once. You would have needed a week alone for your poor, tired brain to deal with the fact that Bucky had someone else on his arm, and a further three days to big yourself up enough to talk to him. Alas, that was not the case tonight. Instead, you had about five seconds between Sam finishing his sentence and your ex-boyfriend reaching you. It was just as well you found the energy within that timeframe to down your champagne.

You could see the woman on his arm clearer now. To give credit where credit was due, she stunning. She looked like the sort of girl who smelt of strawberries and Chanel, and grew her own vegetables on the fire escape. The kind of person you swore to be with every New Year that came, but quickly ditched after a week, returning to drinking coffee from the Starbucks under your apartment rather than going to the organic, vegan place a few blocks over. There was an ethereal glow about her and fuck. You were mad.

"Sam!" Bucky called out to his friend - for a minute, you thought he was ignoring you, before you realised he genuinely didn't recognise you. Your name rolled off his tongue with a tone of uncertainty, as though he was learning a new language and still learning how to pronounce things. "Wow. You look...different."

"So do you." You shot back. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Katie." He awkwardly smiled. "My...my girlfriend."

"It's nice to meet you." You forced an equally pained grin, taking her hand in a shake.

"How do you and Bucky know each other?" She asked.

"Work." Bucky quickly said. You thinned your eyes at him, almost in disbelief.

"So you're an Avenger like these two?" Katie asked, clearly not picking up on the tension. "That's so cool."

"Not in an official capacity." You replied. "But they'd be fucked without me."

--

The night only got longer from there, really.

There wasn't enough champagne in the world to help the void in your soul. It was a gaping wound that Bucky Barnes had both filled and widened - and tonight, he was doing the latter. It sounded as though him and Katie were having a grand ol' time of it. From the parts of the conversation that you'd actually bothered to listen to, you'd gathered that she'd arrived in New York from London just over three months ago. That meant she had a fucking accent. Of course she did. It made everything she said a thousand times more interesting.

"We were in Paris, in this little cafe. What was it called, babe? Maison de vie?"

"Maison de l'amour, doll." Bucky corrected her. It had only sounded right when he was calling you that.

Your eyes shot up from your drink, immediately staring daggers at them both. The slimy bastard. You had been the one to show him that place. You'd been in Paris for a mission, and after realising it was your four-month anniversary, you'd taken him there for pancakes. It had been a slow morning, filled with hazy eyes and pink skies, and it had ended with him dropping the L-bomb for the first time. The photo you'd taken of Bucky, sat beside a pile of pancakes the same size of him and with whipped cream on his chin, had been your phone background until the day you broke up.

"I've been there." You didn't break away from his gaze, holding cold blue eyes in a trance that he found to be almost suffocating.

"Oh, nice!" Katie beamed. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Yeah." You sniffed. "The company was shit, though."

"Oh, man." She replied. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's not your fault." You gave her a sweet smile - to Bucky, it was a look of venom. "So, tell me more about your trip to Paris."

He quickly cleared his throat. "We didn't do much. Just a weekend getaway-"

"- are you forgetting that we saw Billy Joel?" Katie cut him off with a laugh. "The Billy Joel!"

"Right." It looked as though his mouth had gone completely dry.

"He told me he loved me for the first time to Uptown Girl-"

"-excuse me for a moment." You shoved your glass in her hand, before backing away from your little huddle.

Your brain was focused on getting away and only on getting away. The room suddenly felt a thousand times hotter, and a thousand times smaller too, as though the walls were closing in on you. Maybe that wouldn't have been so bad if they'd just collapsed around you and swallowed you fucking whole. Anything to get away from this situation.

Making a beeline for the balcony doors, you elbowed them open and stepped outside. The cold air of the rooftop gardens was a welcome contrast to the stuffy indoors, biting, night air hitting your face like an icy hug. The sounds of the city rung below you - sirens and yells and tourists - and tangled into the faint sound of the music, all parts of a world that your brain was working overtime to block out.

You focused on the city instead, using the bright lights of the surrounding buildings to anchor you to reality. None of it really even made sense - you were over Bucky. Had been for a long time. It was just the thought of him doing all the things that he'd done with you, with someone else. It made you feel a little bad for Katie, too.

"I was going to tell you about Billy Joel."

You glanced over your shoulder, giving a derivative snort. "Piss off, Bucky."

"I'm serious." He ignored your demand, cautiously approaching you.

"I brought you those tickets!" You turned around to face him. "We were meant to go together. Billy Joel was our thing."

"We broke up!' He reminded you. "Like I said, I was going to tell you that we went together-"

"- I don't care." You cut him off. "I genuinely don't care."

"That was a lot of storming off for someone who doesn't care."

"Okay, maybe I care a little bit." You huffed, taking a seat on a bench. "It's not even that you're with someone else, it's that you're doing all the things we did. The nicknames, the pancake place, the concert."

"I..." Bucky took a seat beside you, pondering for a moment.

"And declaring your love for someone to Uptown Girl is fucking weird." You muttered.

"Do you have a better suggestion?"

"Vienna, obviously."

"You're such a pain in the ass." Bucky replied. "But for what it's worth, I wasn't thinking of Katie in that moment."

You glanced up at him, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"D'you remember that morning when we were in New Orleans?" He asked. "And we had a few hours to kill before our flight, so you started dancing around the hotel room to Uptown Girl?"

"I remember." You softly smiled.

"That was when I realised I loved you." He admitted. "I was replaying that in my head at the concert, and it just kinda came out, and Katie heard."

"Damn." You muttered. "Sucks to be her, huh?"

"I like Katie." He said. "Truth be told, doll, I'm still stuck in the past a little bit. With you, and with what we had."

"We fucking hated each other by the end, Buck."

"I know, but I mean all the stuff before that." He explained. "You were the first person who saw me for who I am and not what I've done. The first person that actually made me feel loved and worthy."

"I do try."

He lightly elbowed you "I'm serious. I think I'm just projecting my longing for what we had onto my current relationship."

"You're being painfully honest tonight." You observed. "It's fucking weird."

"Who taught me to be painfully honest?"

"Right." You rolled your eyes. "So this is how Frankenstein felt when he created his monster."

"You're the worst," Bucky muttered. "I genuinely am sorry, though. I shouldn't be recycling our memories. I should make new ones.'

Dusting off your trousers, you stood up. "You're right."

"Thank you, though."

"For what?"

"For finding me first," He replied, "and for teaching me what love is."

"Well, if you ever need to be reminded? You have my number."

#why am i low key in love with katie? #i want a tall woman who smells of strawberries :( #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x gn!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers fluff #avengers angst #avengers imagines #avengers imagine #marvel imagines #marvel imagine

[vicxy]

Pick a Card Reading: Choose a Code Geass Character ☕️

Hello everyone! Welcome back to my latest PAC! In this one, I would like to help you guys know more about your spirit guides, so the topic of this PAC will be: What are some traits of your spirit guide(s) and what do they wish to help you with? Before we start, I would like to thank the people who leave feedback in the replies, it really helps me understand my own intuition better and gives me motivation to make more! Thank you :) (this is also to celebrate 1k followers lol)

Choose the pile(s) you are drawn to, happy reading!

☾ Pile 1: Lelouch vi Britannia

Hello pile one! I saw a beachball and perfume for this pile so maybe you guys can take that as an indicator. Zodiac energies here: A lot of Fire, Cancer, Moon, and Mars energy here. For this pile, I see that some of you have spirit guides who are very driven and hardworking, they might be very encouraging toward your work (even if you don't feel it) They might have slight motherly energy as well, they could worry over you a lot. Some of you could also have spirit guides who are more toward the fiery and passionate side, they could like to help you with your goals and ambitions. I also think they could be quite friendly with you, if you communicate with them. They could also be here to help some of you realise your self worth, they might especially like to make you / see you happy. Lastly, they could have a good sense of humour, they might send you messages through comical methods, and they could be cheerful and bubbly. What they're here to help you with: Some of you could be overthinkers and worry a lot, perhaps escapists as well. Your spirit guides are here to help you face your problems directly. For some of you, I think you have some problems at home perhaps? Maybe disharmony of your life of some sort and they are here to help you with that. Maybe you are in separation with a close one? Lastly, for some of you, they will help you with your spiritual abilities, especially your intuition.

☾ Pile 2: C2

Hello pile 2! Zodiac energies here: Water, Venus, Cancer, Moon, Fire, Sagittarius, Sun, and Leo energy. For some of you here, your spirit guide might have more feminine energy, and might be more "earthy" as well. They're probably quite grounded, and they were a hard worker. Now they are independent and I get the feeling you can rely on them a lot. They take care of you a lot too. They could also create opportunities for you? Some of you guys don't see it though. Lastly, they could be good at solving conflicts and finding balance in things. What they want to help you with: Some of you here can be very stubborn and might have controlling tendencies. They want to help you unlearn that. Just like pile 1, the spirit guides in this path also wish to help you in spirituality, maybe some of you are tarot readers etc. Lastly, they want to help you align your goals, some of you here might have been unmotivated and just wandering around recently.

☾ Pile 3: Cornelia Li Britannia

Hello pile 3! Zodiac energies here: Water, Pisces, Saturn, Aries, Fire, Venus, Sun energy. For a lot of you your spirit guide is very wise, they are very knowledgeable and introspective. Perhaps a little sensitive and motherly as well. For some of you your spirit guide could be very affectionate and warm, they could be very positive and try to make you feel better if you're upset. Lastly, they are good listeners and might be very creative. They are also nurturing and will always look out for whether you are taking care of yourself. Gentle as well. What they want to help you with: For this pile I am seeing that some of you are holding on to something, unable to let go and it is causing you a lot of pain and anguish. Spirit wants to help you let go and focus on other areas of life so you can move on. Some of you could be very artistic and once had some form of art as a hobby? Maybe you dropped it (or you didn't) but spirit is saying to let your creative juices flow. Maybe some of you can even make a business out of your art. Lastly, some of you are putting other's needs above your own and neglecting yourself. Shouldering other's burdens is fine to a certain extent but what about your own? Spirit wants you go be mindful of your own needs and love yourself more.

Alright that's all I have for today, I hope you guys enjoyed reading! Lmk if it resonated, I'm worried about this one because I did it when I was like half asleep. Thank you to all who read, good day! 💗🌼🌻✨

#tarotcommunity #tarotblr #tarotdaily #astro notes #astrology #astrology observations #astro observations #thank you #astrology notes #astro community #pick a pile #pick a card

[jazziergin]

Re @coffeeorderwrites

Hey all. I said I would post once Sal had her baby and had time to settle in a bit so this is that post. She's had a beautiful baby girl and had the following message for anyone interested.

Hi friends! It took a minute to get my brain together enough for a message and in the meantime Darren has quite stolen my thunder. I've also had a daughter with a colour as part of her name. At least it's a colour if you're French. Or just fancy. I think my little girl is possibly even more beautiful than their's though, just one mother's opinion 😜

Anyway. Why am I writing a message when I did the equivalent of mysteriously disappearing into the fog never to be seen again? Jas told me that several people got in touch with her about my deactivation and all the nice messages people left which is just so... touching and lovely and overwhelming in a good way. I'm really not used to people caring all that much about what I do and it's just wild to think I affected people in some way even in passing. I am full of love.

The other side of that though was realising that I'd left a certain level of confusion and upset behind and that is quite literally the last thing I want. The love I have for the people in this fandom is enormous and if you're thinking 'she doesn't mean me', I do. I mean you reading this right now.

I wanted to step away for several reasons but imma try and keep this short.

First. I knew even before my daughter was born she was going to need some extra care and attention and, while there are always options, my only option is to be there to help her live the best most amazing life. I dedicated a lot of love and time and energy to fandom and while the love is still there the time and energy is not and probably won't be for the foreseeable future.

Second. I do have a tendency to put my all into everything I do and that puts me on the fast train to burn out. I had so many unanswered asks and undone requests and unfinished wips and unfulfilled promised that I was just starting to feel buried by it. I haven't been unable to write properly for a while and even my ability to create was very impeded by the end.

I did a game that asked what My Thing was and someone said my Thing was not finishing what I start and. Yes they were just being needlessly unpleasant but they also weren't wrong? I feel like I just have nothing left to give to you all and Tumblr was starting to feel like a weight hanging on me rather than something fun to do. I knew that if I just tried to step away the temptation to look at what was happening would always be there. It just not being there any more sounded the best option for me personally and ultimately you gotta look after yourself first my loves, I hope you know that too.

I've left my fics in place because I know one of them was a source of comfort for people that I would never want to take away. I just don't want any more notifications about it I suppose. It seems dramatic in hindsight but to me this is what makes the most sense.

I said I would keep it short so those are the bare essentials. The reason I didn't say goodbye is because I just didn't want any fanfair. I used to joke about it a lot but I truly am allergic to attention. But I am really sorry to anyone that was hurt. My only regret is acting in a way that caused alarm or upset because I met so many special people in this fandom.

If you were my mutual I adore you, if we ever interacted even in tags that goes double. I have so much love for the people here and had a ton of fun with you all and I wish you all well. Hopefully this message can serve as the goodbye I should have given beforehand and if you ever think of me you think of me fondly.

So until we meet again, take it sleazy 💖💖💖

Tagging some people she mentioned may be interested, feel free to ignore though ( her words). Also one of them just said Cat Wife so let me know if you know who that is!

@hippohead @1908jmd @hopefulobjectmiracle @jedthesecretdreamer @backslashdelta @hummels-turn @make-it-klaine @itstruthtime @razzberryhairgel

#coffeeorderwrites #yes i could ask her who cat wife is but like #i just want to leave her be now #this has all been a lot

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing v.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 2, 435

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

a glimpse into the past

“Yes. I’ve literally just stepped foot into my apartment.” Jungkook huffs with his phone between his ears and his shoulders as he attempts to multitask, hands moving a box of the dining table.

But Jimin is persistent and he’s yapping his ear off, something about dropping by in a few but Jungkook is barely paying attention, not when the existential crisis of no longer being a high school student that could hide under an institution with a false sense of security. College was different. He was on his own, even with the presence of his friends; and Jungkook was both terrified and excited.

He’d always dream of the start of his college life. Jungkook was a bit of a dreamer, and he aimed to live out the best life possible; all while trying to juggle his academics and do some extracurriculars on the side. When he told Taehyung about his ambitions, his friend just blinked and him and offered a snort; with an almost taunting pat on his shoulder.

You’ll see.

Jungkook didn’t know what he meant then, and he can only wait to find out.

“Do you need help moving in? Tae and I just finished a lecture and we’ve got the rest of the day off.” Jimin asks over the phone, and while Jungkook wants to start off his journey being independent; there were boxes of his belongings that looked way too unappealing to deal with alone.

“You’d to that?” Jungkook sighs, eyebrows furrowing when he searches for the box that goes into his bedroom.

“Come on, Kook.” Jimin whines, “You think your own hyungs won’t help you out?” His jibe is lighthearted, which only makes Jungkook roll his eyes at his friends' words.

“I know.” Jungkook affirms, “Just college life, you know? Thought you’d be busy having your third existential crisis of the week to help out.”

Jimin snorts over the line, “Try this day, kid.”

Jungkook chuckles, and mumbles something under his breath before puffing; grabbing his phone with his hand as he thinks of a question he’s meant to ask for a while, ever since he stepped foot onto campus and his accommodation.

“Is ____ with you?” Jungkook asks.

Jungkook did so some growing in the time after you’d graduated, and he supposes that he relied a little too much on you as well as Jimin and Taehyung growing up in high school. Because once the three of you graduated, Jungkook was essentially left to fend for himself when you no longer were able to pick him up with a call away or help him out with difficult math problems when you had college to worry about.

It was horrible at first, purely because Jungkook missed you and your kindness. Sure, phone calls and texts worked—but your presence was always more than what words could ever offer, and Jungkook found himself searching for other methods to survive the next two years in high school without you there looking over him.

His football teammates had always been just his football teammates until he was forced to fraternise with them on a deeper level, and he realised that they weren’t too bad. They were fun and full of life, definitely the type of people that he found himself having fun with. He’s always been surrounded with people that were older than him, you, Jimin and Taehyung for example—and having peers his age to hang out with was a pandora box he never knew he’d ever get used to.

Take Eunwoo for example. Jungkook was petrified of him because there was no way a sixteen-year-old could look that could, and if he looked like that before puberty finished its course—then what the hell was he going to look like after?

But he was a nice guy, a fun person to hang out with and he definitely taught Jungkook some things he’d never dare ask Jimin or Taehyung. Things about women and men; the interrelationships that could be navigated with enough practice.

And enter Yuna, the first girl he’s ever had the ability to get to know in his life besides you. It was the typical cheerleader-meets-footballer trope that Jungkook would always scoff at, but according to Eunwoo “it’s only right that the same type of people minded together.”

Jungkook furrowed his brows when Eunwoo clasped him on his back when he told him that with a wink, suggestive eyes when he exposed a not-so-secret that Yuna had on Jungkook after one of their football games during his senior year.

But Jungkook thought otherwise, probably because he remembered you telling him that people were fundamentally different and social interactions with different walks of life only made life more beautiful and worth living. Seeing the diversity in cultures and experiences opens up our hearts to a world that doesn’t exist for us—it keeps us humble.

Jungkook blindly agreed then, likely entranced with you in general to consider the weight of your words. But Eunwoo was like a constant reminder, and he was older then—a little more subdued enough to pay attention to the words of his friend.

And when Jungkook continued his high school life, it seemed like more and more people seemed to pay attention to him. It wasn’t like he was unpopular before, he definitely caught the eyes of many—but it was different then. It was like Jungkook was his own person and people thought he was cool enough to approach.

So when Yuna shyly asked him out for a date, Jungkook said yes even though he still thought of you.

And when Eunwoo slapped a pack of condoms into his palm while his other football teammates hollered, Jungkook took the leap of faith and lost his virginity the same night.

So, yeah. Jungkook did some growing up—and he hopes that it’ll be enough for you to see him as a man.

“—she’s always doing so much that she barely has time for us and I get that she’s always been an overachiever but we miss her, you know?” Jimin complains, and Jungkook just about returns back from his flashback.

“Sorry, what did you say?” Jungkook says sheepishly.

“Were you not listening to me rant for the past five minutes?” Jimin exasperates and Jungkook hears some shuffling and a chuckle, possibly coming from Taehyung, on the other end of the line.

“You do have the tendency to go off tangent, Jimin,” Jungkook mutters.

Jimin scoffs, “It’s called paying attention to the details you brat. But anyway, to sum it up for you since you wanna be annoying—_____ isn’t with us. She’s got this student council thing and a meeting with a bunch of ambassadors visiting the campus in the evening.”

Jungkook blinks, taking a moment to process the information. He smiles fondly to himself, realising that you always did fine on your own—and he supposes it’s always been that way. You were quiet and never imposing, but you still did your best.

“Oh.” Jungkook says, “Will I be able to see her soon?”

Jimin snorts on the other end.

“Why are you asking me? You have her number right?” Jimin retorts, “Though it may be difficult reaching her cause she takes like five business days to reply if you aren’t work-related.”

Jungkook chuckles while he fiddles with his thumb. He can see you working hard, eyebrows furrowed as you type out emails and organise events like the efficient woman you were.

He’s seen pictures of you on social media, courtesy of Jimin and Taehyung who’d post stories of your pouts when they’d drag you out for some social time, according to their captions. And God, did you grow up even more beautiful than you were in high school.

Jungkook saw you as the girl he admired in high school and it was mostly his puppy-loved up brain thinking of you like this super smart and out of his reach senior that he wanted to respect. But now that Jungkook was … older. He still thinks you’re admirable and smart, but he can’t lie and say he didn’t notice other things.

Like how certain tops flatter your collarbones so nicely that he wonders what it’s like to sink his teeth into them. Or how you’ve experimented with tennis skirts that look like easy access for a territory Jungkook’s used as one of many of his spank bank materials. Even the way your eyes innocently glance up in pictures makes Jungkook’s brain hazy.

Jungkook was older, and so were you. The two of you were in college and it was different. You weren’t just his high school senior and he wasn’t just the little kid that worshipped you. It was free game and Jungkook wanted to make to most out of it.

“I will.” Jungkook nods with a declaration and a sense of determination in his chest. “What time does she finish?”

A brief moment of silence until Jimin responds, snorting to himself.

“She usually gets off her meetings at—10 pm?” Jimin ponders out loud. “You’re really going to wait for her?”

Jungkook wants to add he’s been doing that all this while, but keeps it to himself.

“Just can’t wait to see her.” He shrugs casually.

“You still have that schoolboy crush on her?” Jimin teases. But Jungkook doesn’t flush this time. He’s had his handful of experiences to navigate his way with feelings and desire.

“Not a crush.” Jungkook rolls his eyes. But he wasn’t going to admit that to Jimin or Taehyung just yet. “Is it bad to want to see an old friend?”

“Whatever you say, Jungkook.” Jimin sing-songs. “But I will warn you; _____ isn’t the type.”

At this, Jungkook furrows his eyebrows.

“What?”

Jimin sighs, “Whatever it is you’re thinking … stop.” And his words oddly set off an uneasy feeling in Jungkook’s chest that he doesn’t like. “You know _____. She’s not the kind of person that dates or fucks around. I don’t think she’s even looked at any guy on campus ever since we were enrolled two years ago.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, feeling slightly ashamed that he’s been caught so early on. But along with growing up, Jungkook’s grown quite a bit of an ego too.

“What makes you think I want to fuck her? What if I really just miss her?” Jungkook snaps.

“Kook, I love you and you’re my best friend but I’ve seen your Instagram stories and escapades. I have no problem with you being sexually active or whatever—you do you, as long as it’s consensual and within respectable boundaries. I know you think college is like this unobstructed territory where you can just fuck around with people but _____ really isn’t like that. I’ve been there and I’m telling you to drop it.”

Jungkook clenches his jaw, “You’ve wanted to fuck her?” Jungkook accuses.

He can practically hear and feel Jimin’s eye roll over the phone.

“No, you idiot.” Jimin sighs, “I’ve had the same intentions as you with other women. While they may be receiving and comfortable with that, _____ won’t be. I hear and recognise your tone and I’m warning you against it.”

Jungkook purses his lips, wanting to defend himself further. But he realises, who is Jimin to tell him what to do with his life? He isn’t a kid anymore.

“You’re reaching.” Jungkook tells Jimin, “You don’t have to worry okay? I just miss ____ and I want to see her before orientation on Friday. Is that a crime?”

“Again, I don’t know what you really want so I won’t project anymore. But I’m telling you, ______ is _____. You don’t think dudes have tried with her before?”

Somehow the revelation of the fact that you did have two years to mingle around with other people and potentially get with men (or women) that weren’t him causes a different type of dread to fill his stomach, an ugly emotion of jealousy. One that he’s never felt before and he doesn’t like it at all.

“God, I haven’t even seen you yet and you’re already micromanaging my entire life.” Jungkook scowls.

“The double standard is real.” Jimin scoffs, “You used to follow _____ around like a lost puppy when we knew each other first? I feel betrayed, man.” Jimin is joking but the reminder makes Jungkook still.

"That's ... different." Jungkook protests.

Jimin snorts as if he doesn't believe his friend.

"Oh, it is different all right. You, my friend, are whipped." He snickers, "Too bad the two of you are basically polar opposites, huh?"

Jungkook freezes on the other end when Jimin casually lets it slip the thought that somewhat plagues his mind, too.

"We're not that different." Jungkook defends himself.

"Says you Mr Athlete all throughout high school. I bet you ten bucks that you were already recruited by one of the football dudes here."

Jungkook scowls because Jimin was spot on.

"Okay. I do sports and she doesn't. That's it." Jungkook snaps.

Jimin clicks his tongue, "You're all for the attention, dude. _____ always keeps it on the down-low while you do your best when people are cheering you on. It's like the spotlight follows you wherever you go and she does her best avoiding it."

Jimin clenches his jaw because while Jimin's words were lighthearted, and he knew better than to ever put you down because the three of you were all good friends—the fact that someone as close to the two of you as Jimin; was laying out the obvious makes Jungkook doubt himself a lot more.

"Oh, and you're the best at psychoanalysing people right?" Jungkook sneers.

Jimin snickers on the other end but Jungkook can't find it in himself to laugh.

"Relax. I'm joking, all right?" Jimin reassures his friend. "You don't even like her that way, right? That's what you said anyway."

Right. He didn't. That's what he told Jimin.

"Right," Jungkook says stiffly.

"If the two of you ever ended up together, though ..." It's as if Jimin was the one dead-set on pushing for it as Jungkook wishes for him to drop it. "Nah. It wouldn't happen. It probably wouldn't work out either."

Jungkook forces a dry chuckle before muttering a lame excuse and hanging up.

He loved Jimin, the guy was a good friend on an average day and an absolute sweetheart on better ones. And Jungkook knew that Jimin meant no malice when he spoke of the potential relationship between you and Jungkook because, well ... Jungkook has always been the younger guy. And that would be weird, wouldn't it?

But Jungkook knows he's done some growing up. And he'll prove it—in whatever way possible.

Jimin doesn’t need to know.

#bts fic #bts imagine #bts fics #bts imagines #bts smut #bts x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #jungkook angst #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #bts angst #bts fanfic #bts jungkook

[honeymilkk00]

Haikyuu Boys: You Flinch

yooooo so my first post on tumblr,,, kinda scary but here goes nothing. if the characters are too ooc i apologise but it’s because this is my first time writing a haikyuu one shot. also i’m fucking obsessed with angst to comfort hmu with some good ones (hopefully i haven’t read them). also pleaseeeee this isn’t an attack on the reader, you all are so fucking gorgeous. i’m trying to write this angst with my personal insecurities in mind so it can be more realistic. remember to drink water and eat 3 meals a day.

characters:

-tanaka

-ushijima

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

Tanaka

Recently, you had noticed a strain in your and Tanaka’s relationship. Of course, you were always pretty self-conscious in the relationship- he always hung out with Kiyoko when he went to practise and spoke about her like she was a goddess.

That didn’t mean you didn’t like Kiyoko. In fact, you looked up to her a lot, heeding her advice every time she spoke to you. But, who wouldn’t be insecure? Kiyoko was everything you were not. She was smart, she was pretty, she was organised, and she had a great personality to go with it. Sometimes, you’d sit thinking that maybe Tanaka would be happier with her. 

And today was one of those days. It was lunch and, as usual, Tanaka was at practise. You didn’t mind and grew pretty accustomed to it, often sitting to the side of the sports hall, watching and cheering. You were happy that your boyfriend had such a deep interest in something. 

As you sat next to the coach, taking small bites out of an apple, you noticed Tanaka’s wondering gaze. Following his eyes, you frowned slightly when you noticed him staring at Kiyoko with a small blush on his face. An uneasy feeling in your gut made you stop eating, just watching. When Tanaka walked over to her and tucked her hair behind her ear after helping her pick up spare balls, you felt bile rise in your throat. Suffocating. It felt like suffocating as you watched your boyfriend touch and blush around your friend whilst right in front of you. 

Biting your lip nervously, you packed away your lunch and stood up. There was still 10 minutes left of lunch. If Tanaka asked, you could’ve dismissed it as simply wanting to get to class early. Nodding to Coach Ukai and Daichi, you swiftly exited the sports hall and walked to your next lesson.

_

Somehow, you had avoided Tanaka for the rest of the day. You knew you were probably overreacting, but the way he looked at her with such a loving gaze made you feel sick. He didn’t even look at you with that much compassion, and you were his girlfriend. 

So, you slung your backpack over your shoulders and made your way home. Normally, you would walk with your boyfriend, but not today. It was silent without Tanaka making small comments here and there and laughing. Insecure thoughts filled your mind, and, with no one to distract you from them, you listened.

You listened to every single thought that crossed your mind.

Why were you not pretty enough?

Why did Tanaka love Kiyoko more than he loved you?

Why were you so petty?

Why were you running away instead of talking to him?

Why were you not good enough?

You swallowed the bile that slowly rose in your throat and looked down at your hands that clenched together.

Just get over it. You can’t be better than her. 

A hand placed on your shoulder, snapping you out of your thoughts. Swiftly, you head diverted to look at whoever touched you right in the eyes. 

Shit.

“Hey, you’ve been ignoring me since lunch. Did something happen? Why are you walking home without me?” Tanaka let go of your shoulder and raised a curious brow at you.

You weren’t ready to talk to him yet.

Forcing a smile, you looked down at your hands instead of his gaze-his piercing gaze that left you weak and helpless. “Nothing is wrong,” you started, pausing for a second to recollect your thoughts. “I just wanted to get to class quickly after lunch... And I was walking home by myself because I have a lot of homework to do.” You lied smoothly, but of course, Tanaka saw through it.

Narrowing his eyes slightly, Tanaka sighed and tilted his head, “are you going to tell your boyfriend the truth or continue to lie straight to my face? We’re partners- a team- you’re meant to trust me and communicate. Wasn’t it you who said that was important?” His voice gradually got louder with every sentence, his patience wearing thin. 

You looked back at him and opened your mouth, before closing it. Of course, trust and communication is key in relationships but... Your eyes glanced up at Tanaka. Opening your mouth again, you spoke, “It’s just...” You started and licked your lips, taking a deep breath, “You seem to be close with Kiyoko. Very close..” You whispered the last bit, but he still caught it. 

Clenching his fists, Tanaka frowned, “well excuse me, but she’s been my friend longer than I’ve dated you. I don’t see why it’s an issues now.” His voice was firm and loud, making you shrink into yourself.

“I get that, I do. But you can’t just get all close like blushing and tucking her hair behind her ear when you’re in a relationship.” You tried to reason with him. Yes, you know they were friends longer than you and Tanaka had been in a relationship and you respected that. That was why you never mentioned anything before. 

Tanaka made a ‘tch’ sound and took in a deep breath, glaring down at you. Like this, he looked like an alpha- strong, in charge, dominant. In normal circumstances, you might’ve blushed or even squirmed, but in this situation, all you felt was your fight or flight impulse going crazy. “Well I’m sorry, but just because you’re insecure about yourself doesn’t mean you can be a selfish bitch! Grow up (Y/n)!”

That was what made you snap.

“Excuse me!? Tanaka, you told me to communicate and so I did, but when I do my opinions and feelings are immediately shut down!? I’m not saying you can’t be friends with Kiyoko! You can! Just please don’t keep touching her intimately because it makes me think you’d rather be with her!” You shouted back.

Letting out a deep growl, Tanaka leaned over you with a menacing glare and quickly lifted his hand, which made you flinch violently and close your eyes tightly, lifting you arms to shield yourself. 

Snapping out of his rage, Tanaka’s eyes widened.

You flinched. You flinched at him.

Did you seriously think he was going to hit you? 

Taking a shaky breath, he gently placed a hand on your cheek, which made you flinch more and slowly open your eyes to look into his. Your eyes held nothing but pure fear. You couldn’t help it- Tanaka was big, strong and intimidating. Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes.

“Please don’t look at me like that, baby.. I’m sorry.. I’ll never hit you.” Tanaka whispered softly and pulled you in for a gentle hug. “I’m so sorry I scared you like that..” He murmured lightly.

Shakily, you took a breath, letting your tears slip down your cheeks. “Ngh.. ‘M sorry I annoyed you Tana...” You whispered softly, crying into his shoulder. “’M just... Scared. Kiyoko is beautiful and has the best personality and I’m just... Me.” You admitted, finally calming down when you realised that Tanaka would never ever hurt you, no matter how much you angered him.

Tanaka’s eyes softened and he gently stroke your hair. “Exactly. You’re you. That’s why I love you, baby.” He whispered gently and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. 

Slowly, you leaned into his touch more, “Okay...”

Tanaka sighed gently, “I didn’t realise I was being too touchy with her, but I’ll stop for you baby. I love you.”

“I love you too.” You smiled weakly back.

“Icecream?” He asked.

“Please.”

__________________________________

Ushijima

You always knew volleyball was his passion. It was his everything, and you respected that. 

Still though, when you became his girlfriend, you thought that maybe you’d at least tie with volleyball in importance. However, you soon realised three months into the relationship that what you believed didn’t seem to be the case. In fact, it seemed as if you were more of a chore for Ushijima than something he enjoyed spending his time on. 

Eventually, it all got too much.

You watched him practise from the side-lines, frowning since he barely even glanced at you, let alone said hello. Of course, you didn’t mind. He was focused on practising, so it would make sense if he didn’t acknowledge you.

Ushijima paused his practise to get a small drink and you took this opportunity to encourage him and drop off his lunch since he had a tendency to forget his. “Ushi, you’re doing so-” You started, but was soon cut off by your blunt lover.

“(Y/N), can’t you see I’m focusing right now? I’ll talk later, but right now volleyball is all that matters. You’re irrelevant right now.” He retorted swiftly, before shrugging you off and going back to practise his spikes. 

Biting your lip slightly, you swallowed thickly and looked down at your feet in shame. Those words hurt, even if they weren’t the most aggressive. Maybe he did only see you as a burden. The thought made you shiver and deepen your frown. The last thing you wanted was to hold your boyfriend back, even if it hurt you. Taking one last glance at Ushijima, you set his lunch down by his bottle and turned away, hiding the tears in your eyes by looking at the ground. 

It felt as if someone was squeezing your heart in your chest, and a lump soon formed in your throat. You choked on a sob and headed home, turning off your phone completely. 

Once you had reached the comfort of your house, you collapsed on your bed and sobbed silently into a pillow, curling tightly into a small ball. 

_

You were unsure as to how long you had been crying for, but you soon awoke from a slumber when you felt the bed dip and a large arm wrap around your waist. Biting your lip, you turned your head to come face to face with Ushiwaka. “Ushi...” You whispered quietly.

“My love, you have been crying. Your eyes are red and puffy.” He stated and frowned lightly. “What happened?” The male gently brushed his thumb against your hip, caressing it tenderly.

Tensing up, you sat up and pushed his hand away lightly. “Ushijima..” You started and looked down, clenching your fists together. “Is volleyball really that important to you..?” You whispered out, barely loud enough for him to hear.

The brute frowned and also sat up, narrowing his eyes slightly, “(Y/N), why are you so annoyed over my passion?” He asked and let out a scoff. “What, are you jealous of a ball? Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?” Ushijima’s voice raised slightly, but he soon shut up when he noticed you flinch and sink deeper into the bed. 

You avoided eye contact from your lover and gripped the sheets tightly in your hand, “’M sorry..” You whispered out as tears filled your vision. “Maybe I am being ridiculous.. I just think that...” You choked on a sob. “That you’d be better off with someone else. All I seem to do is hold you back from doing what you love. ‘M just a pain..” Hurt filled your voice and you swallowed thickly.

Ushijima’s eyes widened slightly and he frowned, gently taking your hands into his large ones. “Darling... You are all I want. I am sorry if those comments I said earlier made you feel insecure, but I truly do care for you. You are the only person I want in my life.” Gently, he placed his forehead on yours and kissed away your tears. “You are anything but a pain, my love.”

Looking into your boyfriend’s eyes, you smiled lightly and pressed your lips against his delicately. “You’re forgiven, Ushi..”

#haikyu #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #haikyuu angst #angst #haikyuuangst #tanaka angst #ushiwaka angst #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima angst #requestsopen #haikyuu comfort #tanaka ryuunosuke