#do i even need to list all of the things her now former boytoy did...as we say in my country:

[marciliedonato]

No bc I literally don't understand what the actual FUCK paramore were thinking joining the biggest tour in the world as an OPENER as a replacement for an EU tour that fans gave been asking for for the longest time *AFTER* the presale period for said tour tickets (that cost an arm, a leg, your first born child, a blood sacrifice and your kidney on the black market excluding accommodation and transport 🙂) has already ended a MONTH ago and somehow thinking fans would actually be happy abt this. Like I seriously cannot understand their train of thought behind this. Literally who signed off on this. Who genuinely thought this was a good idea and not a massive "fuck you" to EU fans, some of which (like us here, hi, remember us? It's been 12 years this week...) have been waiting for TEN+ years wishing and hoping and holding out hope we would have our special moment seeing everyone else get to have theirs and just have so much fun and awesome experiences while we sit and watch and tell ourselves someday, somehow, it will be us.... And then whenever it is time for shows to happen (bc pmore is not a touring band, there's only one shot and it's when there's an album out - so it's been at least 6 years for everyone here) we either get ignored or.. whatever the hell this is.

Like I don't think you understand so ill say it again... THEY ANNOUNCED THEIR EU TOUR IS AS AN OPENER FOR THE BIGGEST ARTIST IN THE WORLD WHEN YOU CAN'T EVEN GET TICKETS ANYMORE AND *BASICALLY* CALLED IT THEIR EU TOUR BC THEY HAVENT SAID ANYTHING ABT ACTUALLY DOING ONE OF THEIR OWN.... yeah.

And don't even get me started on the ppl trying to gaslight EU fans into feeling bad or make us the bad guy here for not being happy with this shitty arrangement... Yes, this is big for them. Yes, they're gonna make a shit ton of money and yes, h and t are friends so they're literally chilling with friends for months (extra fun for them) but bands are literally nothing without the fans and we're being told to just smile and suck it up and be happy for them bc somehow money and fame matter more than the people who got you where you are and are just asking you for something as basic as respect bc they're literally being treated below everyone else... That's all it is abt, right? The money and selling out arenas (bc 'tHeY cOuLdnT dO iT oN ThEiR oWn tHiS iS mAssIvE jUsT ShUt uP anD bE hAppY fOr tHeM')....as long as u can make a shit ton of money it's a free for all, fuck the fans and their feelings right lol 🤪🤪🫠 like 'omg ur upset one of ur fave bands is treating u like ass/lesser than?? omg grow upppp they dont owe u anythinggg 😒😐'

Anyway I'm still pissed and I do hope they will do the right thing and like, at least try to have their own shows between her gigs or smth and can fix this for everyone specially considering how many people are giving them pushback for this bc this is absolutely atrocious and a diservice to EU pmore fans and our right to be upset is valid and I will not be told to calm down by Americans (et al but mostly americans) who are used to everything being handed out to them on a silver plate telling us to be happy abt them making bank and that we're overreacting fuck that noise lol

[forlornmelody]

Three Robins Rose Has Kissed And The One Who Kissed Back

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

Fandom(s): DC Comics

Ship: JayRose (Jason Todd/Rose Wilson)

AO3 Link: Here

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

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

-*-*-

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Focus, Rose.” 

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

“Dick?” 

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----

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

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

“Rose, I’m straight.”

“Seriously??”

----

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

Way harder than Rose ever imagined. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

----

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

But he doesn’t spare her a second glance. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do not tell me you’re gay.”

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

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

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

----

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

Roy is Jason’s best friend. 

Jason would never forgive her if he found out. 

And why does it matter if Jason hates her? 

Damnit, Rose. 

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

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

Damn it all to fucking hell. 

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

“Rose?”

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

“It’s Roy. Something’s happened.”

Fuck. “Is he dead?”

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

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jason--”

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

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

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

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

Jason watches her, his face inscrutable as ever. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Holy shit. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smirks. “Make me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

Rose,

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

--Jason.

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

[doctorcolubra]

This is a day late for International Women’s Day but under the cut, please enjoy me telling my wife about two Byzantine empresses (sisters!) who hated each other but hated men and/or the world even more: Zoe and Theodora Porphyrogenita. Pretend it’s a transcript from your favourite podcast hosts!

(That’s Zoe on the right, pictured with her very good friend Jesus and one of her useless husbands)

Tal: so the sisters are Zoe (the hot one) and Theodora (the ugly one), and their dad keeps trying to marry them off to other rulers but nothing's working out, and he eventually just gives up and leaves them to rot in the women's quarters together for like, most of their adult life Tal: no one really knows why but they started to haaaaaaate each other Tal: Dad dies, and the two sisters are the only heirs to the dynasty, so now the whole court is trying to marry them off to local Byzantine aristocrats Clare: "NO FUCK YOU" Tal: the mayor of Constantinople is the big pick, but Theo is like "a) he's already married and b) he's my third cousin, so no" and Zoe says "yeah whatever I'll marry him" Tal: the mayor (Romanos Argyros) has his wife have an "accident" and he's free Clare: oh fuckin what Clare: this clown over here like "idk what happened, she just slipped and fell down forty-seven flights of my steps that are inset with jewels" Tal: Zoe now accuses Theo of conspiring against her, and has her dragged off into a monastery against her will Clare: WAIT A MONASTERY FOR A WOMAN WHAT Tal: but Zoe is like, almost 50, and she's trying to conceive but she CAN'T, she's trying potions and charms and shit, OH YEAH monastery is the term for both men and women in the East, a lot of the time Tal: Byzantines loooved to force people into taking vows Clare: OKAY CONTINUE Clare: (I know next to nothing about the Byzantine Empire actually so this is great) Tal: so Zoe can't get pregnant and Romanos is tired of her, so she's furious and starts fucking a servant, really flagrantly in front of everybody Clare: ride 'em cowboy Tal: Romanos goes "k" and takes his own mistress Clare: well at least he didn't "accident" Zoe I guess (YET) Tal: but then people start saying (correctly) that Zoe and her new boytoy want to kill him, and he is "concerned" but doesn't really do anything about it, he's kind of a weak dude Clare: he sounds like a real champ from what you've said, defs Tal: so Zoe and her lover drown him in the bathtub Clare: YESSSS Clare: GET SOME ZOE Tal: NOW plot twist, the servant loverboy's eunuch brother is the chamberlain of the palace, and he's this Machiavellian character, John Orphanotrophos Tal: with his brother fucking the empress, John is like OH BOY HERE'S MY CHANCE Tal: so as soon as his brother (Michael) is married to Zoe, John's like "okay uh let's...put her somewhere, she is not the most reliable lady" Clare: in a monastery Tal: NOT YET Michael puts her back in the women's quarters for now, where she conspires against the dudes in vain Clare: Michael u dum Tal: BUT Michael is epileptic and pretty soon his health is failing, John's basically running the empire from behind the scenes Clare: jesus christ Tal: his brother's dying, so John gets his nephew lined up to be the next emperor, and when Zoe protests, boom, monastery Clare: (WHERE IS THEO IN ALL THIS) Tal: THEO'S COMIN Tal: so Zoe's been sworn in at the monastery on an island, but the people of Constantinople decide they don't care for that, and they fuckin RIOT Clare: YEAAAAHHHHHH Tal: the mob dethrones John's relative and demands ZOE AND THEODORA BACK IN TOWN Clare: i just wanna imagine all of them screaming like frat dudes, YEAAAAHHHHHHH Tal: Zoe tries to make it all about her and send Theo back to HER monastery Tal: but the people ain't having it Clare: EXCUSE YOU LADY YOU JUST GOT A REPRIEVE HDU Tal: Theo demands that the emperor be blinded (Byzantines loooved to blind people) and have HIM sent to a monastery, and I think at the same time they also get rid of John by blinding him and castrating all his male relatives Clare: I KNEW THE BLINDING THING WEIRDLY ENOUGH Clare: that shit made it into [Mormon] scripture someplace or something, I knew that one BUT JESUS Y'ALL ARE SO SAVAGE Tal: HELLA so the Orthodox have a rule that you can only marry twice, you can't be a black widow for too long over there Tal: Zoe and Theo need husbands for heirs and they don't want to fuck it up this time Clare: oh god I'm so afraid Tal: Zoe wants this one dude who she had a broken engagement with yeeeeears ago, but then she meets him again and she's like "you know what I DON'T LIKE YOUR TONE" and scratches him off the list Tal: she tries another former fling, but he gets mysteriously poisoned by his wife, like "NOT GONNA DIVORCE ME FOR THE EMPRESS, BITCH" Clare: and then Zoe marries that wife Clare: because they would rule Clare: ...sorry I just made that up GO ON Tal: she finally finds a guy who's supposed to have been "handsome and urbane", and at this point I want to mention that all three of these men were named Constantine Clare: JESUS ZOE Clare: BRANCH OUT Tal: she marries him, he becomes Emperor, Zoe is still Empress but also so is Theo, and there are already court factions breaking out between them Clare: also she over 50, whh Clare: how is babby formed Tal: right, like girl IT AIN'T HAPPENING Tal: HOWEVER Constantine #3 wants to bring a fourth into their polycule Clare: k ya big weirdo Tal: he has a long-standing mistress named Maria and he demands that she be allowed to go everywhere with them and have a title of her own and all this shit Clare: "this isn't enough drama I WANT MORE OF IT MORE OF THE DRAMA" Tal: "The 64-year-old Zoë did not object to sharing her bed and her throne with Maria Skleraina." Clare: the 64-year-old Zoe had a li'l boner for Maria Skleraina neh Tal: so idk maybe she was cool with it but the public thought it was kinda weird, so now there are rumours that Maria wants to poison BOTH Zoe and Theo Tal: so there is another riot Tal: Constantinople does not take shit lying down Clare: that's what we do in our spare time btw, all of us women with husbands and no jobs Clare: we think about poisoning Clare: everything Clare: everyone Tal: I mean I get it Clare: (poisoning someone is the bitchiest move in history and I love it every time GO ON) Tal: that was basically it for Zoe, she let her husband have the power and she focused herself on developing a line of beauty products Clare: ....you're fucking with me Tal: “Zoë recognised her own beauty and its use as a tool of statecraft. Attempting to maximise and prolong its effect she had a variety of creams and treatments prepared in the gynaeceum, and was said to have carried out experiments attempting to improve their efficacy. She operated a cosmetics laboratory in her rooms in the palace, where perfumes and unguents were constantly being prepared. Psellus reports that her face looked youthful into her sixties.” Clare: YOU WERE NOT FUCKING WITH ME Clare: I'M SCREAMING Tal: RIGHT Tal: now after Zoe died, Theo wasn't done yet Clare: you know what I want tho, you know what I want Clare: I want Theo to be poisoned by one of Zoe's neck creams Tal: IT DID NOT HAPPEN, ALAS Clare: just standing over her as she dies like THIS IS THE LONG CON, SISTER MINE Tal: Zoe died first (of presumably natural causes) and Theo basically made the dudes recognise her not as empress but as EMPEROR Clare: oh gosh I like her Tal: she got the senate and the imperial guard on her side Clare: oh I like her so much Tal: and then SHE PURGED Clare: that is such a power move that is such a Cersei Lannister move oh my god Tal: all the officials she didn't trust, all the guys that were being suggested for her position instead of her, DISMISSED AND EXILED Clare: BOOOOOM Tal: she was 76 but she gathered all the power in her own hands as much as she could, she showed up in the senate every day and judged cases herself, she was not here to play Clare: that is fucking fantastic Clare: I wanna marry her Tal: she did finally die but she refused to get married and refused to even name an heir because she knew THAT'S HOW THEY GET YOU, and only on her deathbed did she kind of nod like "I guess" to appoint some civil servant as emperor Tal: who nobody liked but they thought he was easy to control Clare: BOSS ASS BITCH Tal: YUP Clare: aaaaaaamazing Tal: and that is the story of Zoe and Theo, the end Clare: I LOVE THEM

[lusciousvertigo]

As One Door Closes

… another one opens or so my Mother had always said but she’d also said that drinking several litres of Absolut would ensure that you forgot your failings and the loneliness after the waste of space my Dad was had fucked off and left her with a six month old squalling me. Those doors however? Seemed to stay permanently closed unless I worked myself into an early grave to achieve exactly what I want for me. The Kessler name had once been one to be respected at one point; my Dad had served in the military from the age of seventeen, honoring those who had served before on both sides of my family going back to the time of the Civil War and he had risen swiftly through the ranks becoming a Lieutenant General which apparently is really high and Mom still had a photograph of him in her room in his fancy uniform. SHe cries over it regularly and gets really pissed off when I tell her that maybe she would feel better if she wasn’t looking at the bastard who left us every day. Turns out that my Mom has a really vicious backhand when talking about dear ol’ Dad and I’ve learnt to keep my mouth shut over it all and embrace my distaste over them both by getting rid of my golden blonde curls with a bottle of dye and refusing to go lie out in the sunshine like the bitches of Hemery High School… Ah the place that spawn opinionated bitches out to be Valley girls who spent every waking moment looking perfect for their rich Father-figure boyfriends to marry. Just like my Mom had done… after all she got herself knocked up by a man twice her age and wondered why he did a fast one the moment he could so that he wasn’t shackled to a bimbo and a brat. His loss… my Mom may well drink herself into an early grave now? But there was a time when she was the epitome of a 1950s housewife ensuring I was well-fed and cared for (by well-fed read extremely strict diet so that I would be able to be a cheerleader and make her dreams come true so that I could become head cheerleader and come home with trophies galore…) I can now clarify that I despise protein shakes and the strict regimes she had me on that had me become a stick insect before I was thirteen. Hemery had been Hell ninety per cent of the time, as I became a misfit. Not because I was in a household made up of my Mom and I but because she was an addict and it got around the school within minutes thanks to.. Guess who? The cheerleaders and the jocks. I swore there and then that I wouldn’t end up like my Mom and worked hard through school earning good grades and pushing myself in the dance studio.. I had a dream and it was one that went against the look I had grown to love and embrace fully as my own now as Ariana Keller - child of drunk and a now deceased Dad. (Trust me, if I go there - I won’t stop and the irony of it is I found out before Mom did when I saw his photo in the obituaries section of the paper} I lost myself to music and the poise and grace found in the art of ballet. My Mom had been furious with me declaring that I was letting her down and had abandoned all her hopes and dreams.. But I had been training for years now, been offered a place in The Juilliard School - yes, the place to go if you had a true passion and talent for Dance, Drama, and/or Music.. It was there that I found peace and quiet because I was out the clutches of my Mother thanks to her decision that I was too much like my Dad and that meant I was to be cast aside and forgotten. Which had meant the last five years of my life had been relatively quiet and that of course meant I was in for a returning of the dead and that would ensure that the peace I had known would end. I’d earned my BFA with a diploma (Bachelor of Fine Arts) a year ago and had found work in various theatres throughout New York and had high hopes for what would happen.. My life was indeed in my own hands and I wanted to make the most of it before everything went wrong with the arrival of one Jennifer Mayfield also known as ‘Mom’... I mean life couldn’t be good forever right? Making my way to my apartment in the Village, I trolled through the fifty or so messages she had left each and everyone filled with what had to be the ravings of a mad woman. She swore that there were monsters in the Valley; I wonder if she’d switched vodka to something a little more interesting and illegal in the form of Charlie until I remembered just why I had learnt to admire the former cheerleader turned freak in Elizabeth ‘Buffy’ Summers and her rebel boytoy Oliver Pike.. the two of them had burnt down the gym of Hemery High to kill these freaks or what was it they had been accused of being? Oh that was it ‘an attack by a gang on PCP.’ Whoever came up with that excuse clearly hadn’t actually witnessed what a gang on PCP actually looked like and they certainly didn’t have faces that resembled wax masks under the sun.. But I didn’t believe in monsters either - not that kind anyway. Monsters were child molesters, absentee parents, abusers of the elderly. There’s a fucking long list let me tell you but not one of them came from an episode of Supernatural otherwise there would be a mass hunt throughout the country for the Winchesters to ‘assist’. Also known as women (and men) wanting to drag Sam and Dean under the sack to make mini-hunters. My internal thoughts are going to have me burning in the fiery pits because if my Mom was right, swearing was sinful as was me abandoning her (despite losing my sanity when I stayed there) and I would burn. Catholics… worse than any prison guard I tell ya. But if my Mom didn’t get a call back from me; given as there were ten missed calls within the last hour? She would presume I was dead and I had already had two cases of the police contacting me as my Mom believed I was missing presumed DOA in the nearest hospital. That had been embarrassing and on the last time the police had arrived at my apartment? I had sat with them and shared my dinner with them as they took their report down … and asked me if I was concerned that my Mom had mental issues or had been assessed for depression or other such conditions. I had wanted to disappear into the ground right there and then. But that was then and this is now and clearly my Mom was concerned and I had to become the adult dealing with a child. I would get her to talk to me and then try to persuade her to put her crutch down - the vodka treble she will have no doubt poured a few of so that she would go to bed and sleep it off. I just had to hope I wouldn’t have to go to the coach station and travel from Manhattan to LA because that would screw me up in my rehearsals for my part as Ophelia in the ballet performance of Hamlet at the Zeigfeld. I couldn’t promise I wouldn’t throttle her if that occurred. Again. Perhaps it was the stress of my life and need to be the best at my classes that I would find some way to unburden the weight of fear and failure. I would visit clubs pretty much nightly to drink and forget the pain of my various pairs of dance shoes. It would be on a crowded dance floor that I would embrace the feeling of feeling truly alone when music would flow through me like the very blood in my veins. I paid little attention to the dangers I was in; or rather refused to allowed my already beleaguered mind to process the several outcomes my behaviour could of perhaps more accurately; would induce. I saw dangers and discarded them both in the form of writhing bodies in a smoky and dark club; or along the sidewalks where any old vehicle to plough me down in the blink of an eye causing my Mother to finally lose control of the few marbles she still possessed. I was alone in the crowd; but there was always a sensation akin to the hairs on the back of my neck rising. I never spoke of it; never mentioned it to the few friends at Juilliard I had lest they think nights spent in a padded room with lovely white blinding lights would aid my recovery. After all; saying someone was watching you; even when you were undressing for bed was something that could be deemed as far-fetched. Even by those I entrusted my deepest secrets. And yet.. I swore I saw the same bleached white hair in each and every bar or club I frequented.. and then it would sneak up on me when I secured the curtains to my bedroom. Someone was indeed out there; I just had no way of proving it; or knowing just why someone would do such a thing without malignant intent for my person.. He was protecting me; I escaped muggings and threats to my life only for them to disappear once I was ordered to the room. He installed fear and yet security info my mindset and I was interlude lost wondering the simplest of questions? Why me?