#leave my pixel husband alone

[tadpolejourney]

Gale is not canonically autistic, nor was he canonically groomed

Really bugs me how so many people on tumblr diagnose Gale with autism (spoiler: they're not doctors because doctors have ethics). Identifying with a character personally is one thing, armchair diagnosing anyone (yes, even a fictional character) is another. It is harmful and unethical, and I'm happy to explain why I think so to anyone who's interested. Just let me know.

EDIT: This whole next part is a SEPARATE thought that has nothing to do with autism. I think autistic people are great and I'm definitely not trying to spread ableism in tags... or anywhere else for that matter. I suppose I should also say that my opinion is not wild or out of left field outside of tumblr. I know Forgotten Realms lore and D&D very well, which seems rather atypical for tumblr.

I've made a lot of edits to this post, hoping that by clarifying the language and articulating my points better rather than just venting, my message comes across more clearly.

What bugs me the most is when people talk about Mystra grooming him as canon. If you think it happened when he was a child, that simply was not possible as Mystra was dead. If you think it happened to him as an adult, that's absurd.

In order to be groomed as an adult, you have to be incapable of consent. Only vulnerable adults can be groomed. I will leave 'vulnerable' broad, but the definition of grooming can be found on Wikipedia. Before you come at me sideways, find the section on grooming adults, read it, and get back to me.

Gale is fully capable of consent, and makes no indication that he cannot consent. He'll consent to a relationship with you as the pc, after all. He was also not vulnerable. He was an archmage. That's the most power you can have as a mortal, and one of the most prestigious positions as well. Gale is very knowledgeable about Mystra, her ways, and the Weave. Gale is a confident man of sound mind with hubris galore. If you think he was groomed, you completely misunderstand his character arc (snarky edit: again I say, hubris). When he meets Mystra he's well into adulthood with a job, a wizard's tower, sexual experience, has been in relationships, etc. He knows who Mystra is, what she is capable of, and what she offers him as a chosen/lover.

He walks into their relationship willingly, and makes no indication whatsoever that he was harassed, manipulated, or coerced into his relationship with her. Furthermore, Mystra could not do anything directly to him on the mortal plane, nor could she take away his power or access to the Weave, without reason or consequence. In fact, if you are at all familiar with Forgotten Realms lore, their relationship does not seem so abnormal. While Mystra isn't known for sleeping with many of her chosen, the idea itself (a mortal and a god/goddess being lovers) is not unheard of. More to the point, the FR pantheon is simply not all-powerful. Not a one of them is, including Mystra. They have many restrictions on what they can and cannot do, especially involving the mortal realms.

It seems some people are completely unable to accept that Gale made terrible choices and has flaws, which is odd because he admits that freely and openly to the pc. There is so much more nuance to his character arc that you throw away when you ignore his flaws, especially his hubris. That is literally the whole point of his arc. It would be a totally different story if it were actually written as if he were groomed. Not to mention making that canon with the story as it is nonsensically divests him of the power and agency he clearly had.

Rewrite the story and HC all you want, but don't put that shit out there like it's actual canon.

[finallymothman]

Somebody praise me for the character growth that I’ve shown by NOT dragging someone by the hair for having zero media literacy.

As someone with autism, it grinds my gears when people get upset that the fandom headcanons Gale as autistic.

There was one particular post that was talking about how it’s ableist to think Gale’s autistic because “he’s not a naive idiot, and Mystra didn’t actually groom him”

(Which how is hcing him as autistic calling him a naive idiot? And you think hcing him as autistic is ableist?)

Also, in their 900 hours of play, OP managed to miss Minsc said how people had to hide little boys from Mystra when they started showing signs of being good at magic. But sure, she’s not capable of grooming.

But aside from that characterization of Mystra, she literally did groom him. Like, I don’t know what OP thinks grooming is, but this video details the dynamic better than I could sum up in a tumblr post.

“LeAvE mY PiXeL hUsBaNd aLoNe”

GIVE ME A BREEEAAAAK, the weave is his special interest, Mystra’s a bitch who, at best, use her power and influence with gross irresponsibility. I’m so sorry you don’t know what autism looks like when not paired with an intellectual disability. Argue with the wall.

[dagdasoneandonly]

Happy 10 years together Augustine~

Before we begin it is PARAMOUNT to state that I am not a "fangirl/simp/whatever y'all are calling it these days" of dear Augustine Sycamore.

He is my FO (Forever One/ husband in laymans terms) and I consider him to be a real person just like the words I'm typing on this keyboard.

Any comments that are irrelevant to this post will be deleted and the user blocked.

I take my relationship with him very seriously, if this is "odd" or "weird" to you then kindly walk on by.

10 years ago I was welcomed back into the world of Pokemon after a few years break due to personal things I had going on, and video games were the last thing on my mind.

But as they say fate and destiny always have other plans.

Pokemon XY was the last golden age of Pokemon, it was a different world, it felt like I was welcome there. I still maintain onto my hope and innocence because of this beautiful world known as Kalos, a world that greeted me with open arms and a warm hug that enveloped my soul like Xerneas's Fairy Aura.

It was the beginning of something entirely new for me... and I didn't even know it.

2013 wasn't a good year for me, so I was pretty happy when my dad surprised me with a 3Ds and asked me what game I wanted: I was an edgy little shit back then so I asked for Pokemon Y... even though I really wanted X. Deer were always beautiful to me.

I had broken off with an FO that I just felt I wasn't good enough for and became rather desolate, I was lost and alone. And I had to drop out of college for mental health reasons.

Sure enough, my solace came to me in the 2D world yet again.

One cozy October evening my copy of Pokemon Y came through, I was excited and fired the game up right away, back then you could play games right away without downloads or waiting for patches and mutliple DLCs! XY had one patch but it was just to fix that Lumioise City bug. Thankfully my copy was safe.

As you can see, my copy of Pokemon XY is infact a physical copy, I've taken very good care of it. (Ft. my cute Sylveon plushie, Fionn)

Not having anyone to trade with didn't matter, because the Wonder Trade function was a bloody miracle. I got so many Pokemon. I couldn't transfer my older Pokemon as I had no access to Bank or any of that stuff, my other games I had to leave at home.

It was time when Gamefreak actually thought about their fans who didn't have access to Gamestop, Toys R Us or couldn't afford constant trips to New York, Japan, Mars, Etc for one tiny ass pixel.

So I was sorely missing my old Pokemon, I wish I could bring them into this 3D world and pet them and shower them with affection like they deserved to be. But I realized I could make new memories with new friends in this new world, and who knows? Maybe we would reunite again.

Kalos took me on a journey, a journey of love, self discovery and gave me a home. I was whisked away to Fairy land and fairy types became my new favorite, I liked that they were strong against Dragon - types, the bane of my existence at how powerful they always were!

But.. the one who grabbed me by the hand was none other than Professor Augustine Sycamore. I had seen his image before on a leak, and couldn't help but think he was kind of handsome, a friend who had already played through Pokemon X told me:

"Hey you might like Professor Sycamore, he's this dreamboat that shows you the world and stuff and I KEEP SWOONING whenever he shows up on screen"

Sure enough when I opened up Pokemon X for the first time, I was greeted by his handsome face, I thought nothing of it of course since I was more interested in the Pokemon.

I was especially looking forward to Trainer customization and giving myself green eyes and brown hair. I will never forget the time I chose my Fennekin and started to pet him, my heart melted.

I could finally show my Pokemon love and affection, for all their hard work in battles and feed them cupcakes and play with them! I was also intrigued by this thing called "Mega Evolution".

As I continued throughout the game, I explored every nook and cranny, I felt like a kid again. I was truly lost to the world for HOURS after I got it. It was a beautiful game. The 3D over-world was amazing.

The "friends" you had were annoying but I like to pretend they don't exist. When I finally reached Lumoise City I already had a big party of Pokemon, and the event Torchic.

I loved how friendly the Pokemon in Kalos were, I caught many eevees and evolved one into a Sylveon, she became a massive Team Player. I even managed to find some familar faces along the way: A Raichu named Napalm, and an Espeon named Solar who remains as an MVP in my teams to this day.

I was having so much fun just running around, getting haircuts, dressing up, looking pretty for Professor Sycamore AND catching Pokemon, I would completely be lost in this beautiful new world, that felt so much like home to me and still is.

Professor Sycamore was the beginning of my healing. As I continued to learn about him, there was more to him than just the eye candy, he had a past. I loved it whenever he showed up to offer me an encouraging word or two in the game, saying how this was my journey to explore, that being the best trainer was defined by what I thought. He never imposed anything on me, I was starting to feel the flutters and shit in my heart and liver again.. And my god it felt good.

I desperately needed to feel something like this.. something like true, unconditional love.

Around this time I was heavily suffering from perfectionism, it was killing me on the inside, I was 19 when this game came out and already people had high expectations of me.

I was determined to graduate, get a job and have my own house- all before I reached 21. But life seldom goes your way, I was suffering from many un-diagnosed mental disorders that had been neglected my entire life.

I am ashamed to say I spent almost all of 2013 being obsessively deep in competitive and breeding the perfect Pokémon. Perfectionism had leaked into my past - time and hobbies, I realized that if I couldn't be perfect I could at least have this outlet in games, little did I know it was sucking the soul out of me.

I was often punished as a child for being less than perfect, I took it out on my poor Pokemon. Things like this don't magically go away, not everyone has a backbone, sometimes backbones take time to build.

It wasn't until yet again - I got help from a rather unexpected source: Professor Sycamore himself, another testament to have wonderful 2D beings are.

As I progressed through the game and reached the Tower of Mastery.

I was surprised to learn that Professor Sycamore was there to study Mega Evolution but left because he didn't have what it takes, essentially dropping out- kind of a parallel to my own life, except real life seldom has happy endings.

But it gave me hope, because even if Sycamore didn't master Mega Evolution he still became the professor of Kalos and if you look into professorship- it's.. actually not easy to get. If Sycamore could fail and succeed in the future, maybe I could too.

One night..

I had a dream of Sycamore. He held me close and said that he could tell something was bothering me, I was hurting deep down. We in the fairy forest together, just relaxing in a field of flowers as the Flabebe floated around us in the gentle spring breeze..I told him everything, I spilled my heart and soul to him.

I told him that life wasn't worth it to live.

He was heart-wrenched that I felt like that, he embraced me tightly in his arms and told me

"Your life is your own, no one gets to decide it's worth except you. Even if you're behind, you don't have to go at everyone else's pace, if life was easy then no one would feel sadness. I love you no matter what or who you choose to be, always remember that," Those words I still carry in my heart.

The biggest surprise I got had to be in Couriway Town. I found Professor Sycamore's "treasure" from the past Sycamore to the future Sycamore. I actually began to cry, it felt like it was addressing me, that even if I don't know what I want to be yet, I'm not a failure. I still have time.

In another dream I confessed that I loved him, he embraced and kissed me fully on the mouth. I felt like I was on cloud nine.

Diverging from the narrative a bit, I want to talk about Lysandre, I felt his anger sometimes, the frustration of helping your friends and them not wanting to do any better no matter how much time you invested in them. Of course Lysandre ,uh took a different path. But Sycamore still cared about him.

And I realized.. even if I'm a horrible person apparently according to some people over shit I can't control, Sycamore can still love me too.

Professor Sycamore is a relic of a bygone era when 2D beings set out to inspire others, and to most importantly - love you and you alone.

Augustine gave me not just love-- but a home to come back to, a safe haven that will always be mine, no matter what. I will always love him, when I look into his beautiful gray - blue eyes, I see love.

He gave me hope that life can get better, and most importantly I deserve happiness, not just other people.

And.. today I'm marrying this wonderful man after 10 years. He met me when I was freshly 18 and saw me grow into who I am today, and he's proud of me. I'm happy I lived to see 10 more years.

Thank you for everything, Augustine. Thank you for teaching me to love again.

[nikatyler]

✨ Ross Goes to Baldur's Gate ✨

Well we're off to a great start

I don't call him my idiot son for no reason

OOOOH YES??? sounds dope i'm in

jfc why am I going all 😊😊😊 again what is this pixel man doing to me

oh leave me alone 😭

stealthyyyy

yknow what, I reloaded and left it to an expert 😅 love the rogue option

aaaa look who we run into again! the girl who still doesn't know what no means!

welp

Also idk if I've said this before, but I love how this game is sometimes subtle and sometimes not so subtle about the importance of consent. ♥

Awww 🥺 I killed her husband and now she can have a cat! a win

Safe to say Halsin loves the new underwear 🤭

This will never get boring

Original thread.

[coffeestripes]

"Them? Oh nothing, just my three basically husbands and i doing some hell-like creatures hunting. Yes that is supposed to be a yautja, long story"

"Ya' know day-to-day things around here since Moon left the horrors. Maybe we could do stuff with his bones once his head is off... Sis?"

I still don't have a name for her but she's been with the maniac (Conguran) since they were on the lower ("rebel") colonies since early adolescence. They are actually cousins but they treat the other as a sibling

Extra: close up of a very pixelated yah'taod struggling

Extra 2: Working on the two ladies and the little terror. The human is an animal caretaker but likes lots astronomy too... She just found... The thing around her lands and well whatever she hadn't the heart to leave it alone, even if that meant being bitten almost every time

[broodygaming]

.

Juuust venting.

Idk. I don't even expect ppl to read this, it's okay, I'm fine literally just typing it out for the sake of typing it out cuz I don't have anyone I can chat about it with.

But I'm 30 years old, disabled and living with my mom and things have gone from weird to bad to worse and idk what to do about it. I can't get a job, I can't work, I can't seem to qualify for disability. I can't seem to do anything.

My mom is a good kind person in so many things. But idk. I think she really genuinely didn't think that me moving in with her would be permanent. I think she just assumed I'd get it together and get a job and leave again. I was always the most self sufficient kid. I moved away! I was doing good! So it seemed from a distance anyways.

Now it's like, every day she's just MAD that I just can't do things. She gets mad that I'm forgetful or that my spoons are like 0 all the time. She gets mad that I'm not magically clearing the entire property by myself or I'm not building all these things or doing all these things. She just gets mad mad mad that I don't function. I think it just confuses her? Or scares her? Idk. And she'll weaponize my disability in this really weird way. She'll say things like "well if you're really THAT disabled maybe I should hire a baby sitter for you because you can't be trusted to be alone." Literally. And when I say no, that's weird I don't need that - it OF COURSE means I must just be lying about how bad everything else is!

I don't have anywhere else to go. I have one single friend in the universe and things are always kinda tense with her too. She's offered to let me come stay in her shed, haha. Her husbands a contractor so that's not as bad as it sounds. He'd make it nice and functional. But it would ruin our relationship.

It's not sustainable to just couch hop, I can feel kind people thinking of typing out an offer - but lbr, that's just not sustainable. I'm not going to magically get better. I'm not temporarily out of work. It's not just for until I get things "figured out". I need a permanent solution.

So I'm genuinely thinking of just refurbishing my truck and putting a mattress in the back and buying a recharable solar battery and a fancy bucket and going on the road. It's an old truck (almost 300K miles!! YES you read that right!! Old ass work truck!! but it runs really well and is stupid sturdy). And maybe just living off the cash assistance I get from the government and camping? I like to camp, I like being outside. And maybe I just sleep in my truck in parking lots and then for a few nights of the week stay at a campsite to freshen up?

Lots of people do it, so I know it's doable. It'd be hard to give up creature comforts like plumbing and really (I know this is dumb but) my computer. I like video games haha, it's one of my fav past times. I know my bigger hold ups should be like, security and warmth and shit. But still. I have so much time and energy put into these stupid pixels it's hard to imagine giving that up.

And my animals! I'd have to sell my goats, probably just give my chickens to my neighbors. And even though it's literally so so irresponsible, I'm taking my fucking dog. I've had to give up one dog previously because I was temporarily homeless and couldn't find a rentable space that was pet friendly. And I swore I'd never do it again. Plus - even though it's irresponsible and her food costs easily 80 bucks a month - I actually think I'd be a lot safer with her with me. And less alone. I think she'd love it, tbh. I don't think this would permanently burn bridges with my mom. She'd be mad, but if I called her and said Dahlia's sick I need money for a vet she'd give it to me. And if she wouldn't, my friend would and they have money to spare. So I actually think, out of everything that's not that big of a gamble. I have a safety net for her. And I'm good at doing yearly shots myself etc. So it's just emergencies, food and 3 year rabies shots I can't do myself.

Another reason I'm spitballing all this here is it's not for sure. Hopefully it doesn't come to this. But my mom and I have been fighting relentlessly and there's no end in sight. She's like, mad that I'm here. And comes home mad that I'm here. It's exhausting and it's not going to get magically better. She bought this property and is now throwing it in my face like I'm the one who forced her to do it. She's terrified she won't be able to retire and is blaming me for it. I don't want to be a burden and she clearly doesn't want me to be one anymore either and idk who else I can ask. Who else can I INFLICT my existence on to? This is why disabled people end up in abusive relationships and then stay. What are the fucking options? I'm so grateful I have my physical health and am able to even think of taking such a physically demanding option.

So it's like a 30% chance it comes to this. I'll try and just adjust and put up with things being weird and toxic because that's better than shitting in a bucket in the walmart parking lot. For now.

[penig]

Turpitudia’s origin story goes as follows:

I have in my downloads folder for my full game four devices, three mattresses and a shower, that enable various types of casual woohoo, complete with suitable (and suitably pixelly, if you haven’t modded out the pixels) animations and, in the case of the shower, custom memories. After a couple of tests I could see that they wouldn’t do for my regular playstyle, but it seemed to me that they could have storytelling uses all the same so I didn’t get rid of them.

My game was crashing with increasing frequency and I was running out of things to troubleshoot, not to mention out of the patience needed for good troubleshooting.

I have a heel spur, and my doctor couldn’t read an x-ray or take into account factors like “people in agony are crabby” (not my doctor anymore), my husband has a Mysterious Ailment that’s had him in the hospital overnight multiple times this year, our car’s parts seem to have all hit the planned obsolescence date at once, our house had a Mysterious Leak that could only be solved by opening up a wall and part of a ceiling, meaning we had to do it without an estimate of cost in hand, and I wanted to sim but was out of energy to write up the storytelling album at the end of each household’s session, which meant if I wanted to document them I’d have to update it at time of posting. I was so tired and the damn game kept crashing so it was hard to remember what had and hadn’t happened.

And I got into a weird mood.

And my husband went into the hospital for most of a week, leaving me alone with three very upset cats.

So I created Turpitudia, made it Spring-Summer-Summer-Spring, added Bluewater Village, which is full of sims I’ve only really played before in their genderswapped versions and in whom therefore I have no invested character concepts, sold all the businesses, moved them into new houses in Turpitudia, made them new businesses, and started building community lots and playing with a handful of rules, to whit:

All unowned community lots must have at least one casual woohoo device and at least one place to get pregnant on it, no matter what it’s primary purpose.

All playable sims get Romance secondaries, all available aspiration-related Freetime perks, anti-jealousy potions, and as much attraction to both genders as the gender preference kite will assign in one go.

Nobody gets a career. They either freelance or own a business or live with someone who does. Whether or not someone does something to make money depends on what wants they roll and how badly they need money.

Absolutely no one gets pregnant without a want.

Nobody goes to university, no matter how much they want to.  No matter how tempted I am.

I can’t help doing rotation play, but I don’t have to stick to any sequence. I play who I feel like playing. I don’t try to synch ages, I don’t maintain a storyline. No, not even once I start hearing their voices.

Nothing matters. (Yeah, like that trick ever worked.)

[utterlyinevitable]

becca lao, penelope featherington, drake walker + anthony bridgerton <3

My own child??!!!???? Mal how could you!!

will i get dragged by the grey face brigade for saying that Becca/MC works best as part of a dynamic? whether it’s the friend group or their romance it’s nearly her entire personality.  she is a product of the people around her.

I tried to do emojis for everyone but It required way too much dedication that I do not have for editing on mobile lol

I love this woman. I would die for this woman. I wish I was this woman. I cannot wait for her season. I am salivating just thinking about the character growth and the layers and the whole potential of what Shonda could do!!! as you know I am only consumed by this pairing and the juiciness that could ensue ESPECIALLY with the true romance of the series between Eloise and Penelope. Trying to repair their friendship the entire season my heart cannot handle it 💔

Drake was a literally the first pixelated character I fell in love with. He is the reason I continue to play Choices books. I miss my little ranch husband who goes along with my shit and treats me like an NFL player.

In my hc him and Anya got together that night after the billiards scene (after almost fucking on the pool table) he followed her back to her train car and they got freaky. Even though he didn’t want to deep down, he was an ass hat and left in the middle of the night while she was asleep so she woke up alone to Maxwell knocking on the door and girl thought it was drake she was so sad mad heartbroken and she kind of didn’t talk to him for an entire day which felt like 1800 months. somewhere in the whole hoopla of everything (bc I don’t remember most of the events of trr) Drake manages to talk to hanna of all people about what to do about his vague situation and eventually he does not take her sound advice and instead leaves the tour. Bby girl goes after him and that’s all folks.

(Yes his Sprite leaves much to be desired. At least the boys got bants)

Must I explain Anthony? He’s a precious bean with a smokin hot wife. I wanna be in a Lord and Lady Bridgerton sexwich.

***

if this was fmkk the answers would be fuck anthony (they don’t call him Capital R rake for nothing), marry drake (who needs a viscountcy when this i-only-want-you-to-be-happy man exists), kiss ms becca (cuz it’ll be the time of my life. this woman could rock my world with just one wink), and kill Penelope (soz girl. but you’ll be in a better place. Maybe Colin’s there too).

[unbridgeabledistances]

okayyy so i had something heavier/hurt-comforty in the works as a gapfiller about mickey processing (bc we all need that!!!) but this fluffy little 3+1 about ian and mickey singing to each other happened instead— i hope u enjoy💞

a 3+1 of 3 times ian sang to mickey, and one time mickey sang to ian (to give context to the absolutely wild 11x09 serenade)

also the biggest shoutout to @southside-forever’s 80s gallavich playlist which has SO many bops and inspired bits of this😌

--

1.

Mickey didn’t really know when it all started— Ian was always fucking humming these days, always whistling or singing some tune under his breath when he came out of the shower. He was more buoyant recently, lighter— the security gig was going well, and these days it felt like something looming and heavy had lifted, releasing the crooked hunch out of Ian’s shoulders that had taken root the sour morning weeks before as he shoveled Fruit Loops and Jameson into his mouth. Since then, it felt like he and Ian were finally on the same goddamn page for once— like they had a purpose, like they were moving forward.

Or at least, moving forward on the weekdays— but today was a slow, lazy Saturday, and Mickey was still laying in bed in a tank top and boxers, sweaty and entangled in the crumpled sheets, laying back with his head on the pillow and playing some overly-gory sharpshooter game on his phone. He’d been trying to beat this fucking level a million times, but his thumb couldn’t move quickly enough at the pivotal moment when he had to shoot a bunch of enemy forces— he’d been at the game for a good half hour, since when Ian had sleepily stumbled off of the mattress sporting a full bedhead to go take a shower, and Mickey was starting to get a tinny, sharp headache from staring at his phone screen for too long. He was just starting to consider getting up, to peel off his sweaty tank top and head downstairs to grab some coffee— when Ian came into the room from his shower, a fraying towel wrapped around his lower half and his torso slick with excess water droplets. Mickey flickered his eyes up from his game for a moment, taking an… appreciative glance, and then quickly focused his attention back on his pixelated mission as Ian stood in front of the dresser in the cramped bedroom, and started to rustle through the drawers for a t-shirt.

Mickey maneuvered his buff video game avatar through a minefield, biting his lip in concentration— when his sharp focus was suddenly infiltrated by Ian, singing under his breath in an airy tone.

“Ooooooh we’re halfway there.”

Mickey gritted his teeth slightly and tried to pour all his attention into the pivotal moment of the level, but half of his mind was being pulled to listen to Ian’s gravelly voice, continuing to softly murmur to himself in a tone that was ridiculously off-key.

“She says we’ve gotta hoooold on, to what we’ve got—”

Mickey’s phone screen flickered. GAME OVER.

Mickey wanted to throw his phone at the fucking wall. He inhaled, then pressed “Start Game” again, one last time— and again, his focus was disrupted by Ian, singing under his breath as he pulled on his jeans and gently pattered his hands in a rhythm on the top of the dresser— which was endearing and sappy as fuck, sure, but it was not helping Mickey with the task at hand. Mickey puffed out a sharp, frustrated breath, keeping his eyes on his phone screen.

“The fuck are you singing for right now?”

Ian suddenly gave a sheepish smile over his shoulder as he rifled through their sock drawer, like he’d been caught in the middle of doing something wrong.

“Don’t know. Song was just stuck in my head I guess.”

Mickey glared at Ian, pressing his thumb to the screen to pause his game. “Cut that shit out.”

Ian rolled his eyes fondly, sitting on the edge of the mattress to pull on his socks. “You should be thanking me for serenading you with your fucking eighties dad music. I could be singing Carly Rae Jepson right now, or some other pop bullshit that you hate.”

Mickey felt an involuntary, amused smirk split onto his face, and he tried to turn it into a scowl. Fucking adorable motherfucker.

“Okay, tough guy. If anything you should be thanking me for cleansing your ears from the techno garbage that you used to listen to.”

Ian gave a soft smile, shoulders turning fully towards Mickey now that he’d finished pulling on his socks— and then he turned and clambered into the bed, hovering above Mickey and causing Mickey’s fingers to go slack around his phone case. Mickey could smell the warm, freshly-showered scent of him, all cheap bar soap and Old Spice deodorant, and felt the soft press of his t-shirt through Mickey’s thin tank top— an overly worn t-shirt, one of Mickey’s, that stretched just a little too tight over Ian’s torso.

Ian looked down at Mickey, fucking beaming for some reason, his eyes light. He swooped down, pressing a soft, quick kiss above Mickey’s eyebrow. And then—

“Take my haaaand, we’ll make it I sweeear”

Mickey felt an involuntary, uncomfortable chuckle bubble up out of his ribcage. Was Ian fucking… singing? To him? It definitely seemed like it. And as much as he didn’t want it to, because this was fucking sappy and ridiculous and… well, gay— Mickey couldn’t help the fact that his husband leaning over him, breathily singing the tune of one of their goddamn wedding songs in his husky tone-deaf voice, made Mickey’s blood run a little bit hotter; which was bullshit, because absolutely nothing about this should be hot, and it was probably the most disgustingly married thing that Mickey could think of— but apparently everything about Ian, every dorky and fucking god-awful cringey thing that he did, was a turn-on, or at least according to Mickey’s thudding heartbeat and sweaty palms right now.

Ian’s face was still hovering centimeters above his, his eyebrows raised triumphantly and sporting a sappy fucking grin, like he knew how affected Mickey was by this, no matter how much Mickey grumbled and complained and tried to hide it.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “You’re fucking soft, Gallagher.”

Ian just leaned down again, kissing up the slope of Mickey’s neck and biting at his earlobe—and, okay, maybe Mickey could get behind Ian’s singing after all.

 2.

Ian’s singing was starting to get fucking ridiculous— and as much as it made something deep inside Mickey feel a light pang of relief, to see Ian being his old bubbly self again in the rhythms of routine and held by the safety net of financial stability because of the security gig that made the air between them less stale, it also meant that they were also around each other pretty much 24/7, and Ian’s serenades were starting to get relentless.

While they pretty much had a common ground in liking nostalgic 80s music, they would still inevitably argue about what music to play in the ambulance every morning— and whatever shitty album they eventually chose to put on, whether it was Ian’s pop garbage of Mickey’s mellower 80s tunes, Ian’s brain would apparently absorb all the songs like a fucking sponge and he’d start singing them all day long—in the kitchen, in the shower, even when they were just laying in bed on their phones and Ian would constantly hum absentmindedly.

Today they were driving to some bougie dispensary in Glencoe, near a bunch of ridiculous mansions on the very outskirts of the city, and it was Ian’s turn to pick the music— Mickey usually elected one of the well-loved CDs that he’d jammed into the glove compartment as they were refurbishing the ambulance, CDs that he’d kept since he was a kid when he piled them high in the corner of his grimy room next to a half-broken boombox— but as much as they were Mickey’s comfort CDs, Ian could only listen to Bon Jovi so many times before he started to slander 80s music as a collective genre.

“Can we just listen to something by someone who isn’t older than us, just this once?”

“Easy for you to say, Gallagher. At least the music that I like has fucking words.”

When it was Ian’s turn to pick the music, he usually picked more modern stuff with heavy beats and a thrumming bass (though more often than not he also appeased Mickey’s tastes with some “80s throwback” playlist he’d found on Spotify that he’d noticed Mickey would bob his head along to)—but on longer drives, like this one, it was easy to butt heads about the soundtrack. Ian had allowed Mickey to play through one of his Queen CDs that morning, and then Ian had put on some whiny indie bullshit from a playlist on his phone for the other half of the drive— now they were heading home after a long day, with the stereo turned low to a local radio station.

They’d settled into a comfortable silence, as they often did at the end of the day when their energy faded— Ian had stopped pattering his hands on the steering wheel like he usually did when he was amped up and buzzing with energy in the mornings, and Mickey could tell they were both ready to collapse onto the couch the second they set foot in the door.

Mickey blew out a deflated breath and reached to turn up the radio, tuning in to some middle-aged host with a cheery voice chattering about the heat wave in Chicago that upcoming weekend—and then the airwaves went silent, and there was the overdramatic sound of a slamming door and a gospel choir.

Ian’s ears nearly fucking perked up at the sound as the opening chords began.

“Life is a mystery… Everyone must stand alone…”

Ian immediately raised his voice to join in, the tired slouch leaving his shoulders.

“I hear you call my naaaame”

He turned to Mickey and pointed overdramatically, causing Mickey to shove his arm away but unable to quell the overly fond grin that he knew was blooming on his face.

“And it feels like… home.”

The beat dropped, rolling into the chorus, and Ian energetically drummed his hands against the steering wheel once more.

“C’mon, Mick!” Ian laughed, throwing his head back dramatically as he sang while still trying to keep his eyes on the road.

“When you call my name, it’s like a little prayer, I’m down on my knees, I wanna take you there.” Ian’s pitchiness clashed with the melody, but he was too focused on singing and bopping side to side in this seat to really care.

Mickey rolled his eyes, his lips still turned upwards at the corners while he watched his absolute dork of a husband jamming to Madonna. “Isn’t this song about giving someone a blowjob or some shit?”

Ian gave an easygoing laugh. “Technically, yes. And it’s also definitionally a gay anthem, which means you have to sing with me.”

Mickey scoffed and flipped Ian off. “Fuck off.”

Ian raised a playful eyebrow, and continued to sing with relentless eye contact:

“It’s like a dreeeeam, no end and no beginning”

Mickey felt heat rise into his cheeks against his will. No fucking way was he going to sing a Madonna song about a blowjob stone-cold sober at 2pm on a Tuesday while driving home from work with his fucking husband—which, wow, that was probably the gayest sentence that had ever crossed Mickey’s mind in his 26 years of existence (which was definitely saying a lot).

This wasn’t ever a place Mickey thought he’d be in— sitting beside Ian so comfortably, singing fucking songs while they drove home from their daily commute; getting to soak up all the warmth, all the brightness that had always radiated out of Ian so intensely that it nearly blinded him, a warmth that he’d always wanted to lean in closer to even when they were just scrawny kids in a shitty neighborhood still figuring everything out.

Maybe, just maybe— it was okay to lean in a little more.

By the time the chorus rolled around the third time, Mickey was begrudgingly humming along, like he usually did whenever the songs that Ian was singing on and endless loop got stuck in his own head and popped up while he was brushing his teeth or making toast for breakfast— by the time the final rhythmic chorus faded to silence on the radio waves, Mickey glanced over at Ian, singing at the top of his lungs, face slightly flushed and grinning ear to ear.

“Just like a prayer, your voice can take me there.”

3.

Ian and Mickey were walking down the moonlit sidewalk, veering back home after an evening at Lip’s— the night had honestly been weirdly enjoyable, which was definitely a welcome reprieve from all of Lip and Debbie’s intense back-and-forths about the house over the past few weeks. Tami and Lip had needed to go over to Brad and Cami’s for some bullshit crisis management about the stolen bikes, and Ian had readily agreed to watch Freddie— which meant that whether he liked it or not, Mickey had spent his Friday evening at Lip’s half-packed apartment watching Ian coo over a one-year-old, which was… not a totally unwelcome sight.

Trying to keep his shit together, Mickey had snapped a picture to send to the Gallagher family group chat, and everyone had immediately given them shit about being so eager to babysit and get their hands on a toddler like a couple of baby-crazed newlyweds—which had caused Mickey to start overzealously complaining in the groupchat to compensate while Ian occupied Freddie. Kev had noticed the texts and swung by Lip and Tami’s house after closing the Alibi to keep the two of them company, bringing by a pack of beers—and now he and Ian were warm and happily buzzed, relieved of their babysitting duties and walking the chilly city streets back towards the Gallagher house.

Halfway through the walk Ian had interlaced their fingers, and now their arms were swinging slightly as they turned the final corner to walk down the last stretch of pavement towards the chain-link fence—when suddenly, Ian stopped cold a few houses away from the Gallagher front porch. He looked down at Mickey, raising their entangled hands and pressing a kiss to the inside of Mickey’s wrist.

Mickey raised an eyebrow in confusion, and Ian just looked back at him—his cheeks glowing pink from the few beers, his eyes light and unguarded under the streetlamps.

“This spot reminded me of something.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. Of fucking course it did. Ian was a sappy motherfucker on the best of days, but with a couple of beers in him he was practically uncontrollable.

“What?”

All of a sudden Ian let go of his hand, punching into the air dramatically.

“Cause love is a battlefiiiield”

Mickey laughed, feeling warm hot blood rush to his cheeks in delight—and fuck, he loved his husband so goddamn much. And just this once, mostly because of the own alcohol running thick in his bloodstream, Mickey made the lurching decision to join in, stepping closer towards Ian and raising his hands equally as dramatically.

“No promises, no demands”

“Woooooah”

Ian had practically doubled over with laughter, tears welling in the corner of his eyes—and Mickey let himself get lost in it, the warm feeling buzzing through his body, of love and joy and fuck knows what else, getting to sing on a fucking street corner with his husband a decade after everything had gone so gut-wrenchingly wrong, leaving him bleeding on this same pavement.

They stumbled over their own feet up the stairs, fumbling out of their clothes and collapsing into bed—and later, just as Mickey was on the brink of fading into unconsciousness, Ian mumbled the same refrain into the crook of Mickey’s neck in a sleepy voice, like the song was still stuck in his head and he just couldn’t help it.

“Love is a battlefield.”

4.

It was late— it was one of those slow, tender nights when the past was hanging heavy over them, laying pressed together in bed as thin streams of moonlight poured in through the blinds, pressing whispers into each other’s skin about all of the hurt and the doubt that had been seeped up and healed with time.

Ian was sprawled back on the bed and Mickey was laying with his head resting on his chest, feeling his ribcage expand and contract each time he took a breath. They’d absorbed so much the past few weeks— the sick, twisted blows of a loss that felt all the more jagged and painful because of how muddled the grief for Terry was—but after a few days had passed they’d found a place to settle, in the comforting press of the silence in their bedroom.

Mickey was mindlessly playing with Ian’s fingers, listening to his steady breathing—and without thinking, he ran a finger over the cool silver of Ian’s wedding band, letting out a breathy chuckle.

“I still can’t believe we’re married sometimes, man.”

Mickey could feel Ian’s lips curve upward into a smile from where his mouth was pressed against the top of Mickey’s head.

“Yeah, me either.”

And Mickey felt something bubbling, something welling— and he didn’t ever fucking sing, not unless Ian made him, but Ian was always fucking dropping song lines into sappy moments like this.

So he took a breath, and, half-singing but mostly talking, in a way that sounded almost mocking if it wasn’t so soft around the edges, he let out into the dark silence of the room:

“At last….”

He wasn’t even singing, not really—he was just sort of… saying the words in a singsongy way, but he knew that Ian could tell what he was doing, what he was trying to do. He was trying to be as fucking sweet and soft and pliant as Ian was, as Ian always was in moments like this, in a way that sometimes made Mickey feel brittle and hard in comparison. This time, Mickey wanted to breathe out the love he had for him into this moment, the love that made his ribcage feel like it was going to fucking burst— a love that he felt erupting outwards when Ian had played this song for him for the first time a few weeks before the wedding, and had asked with a shy smile, “D’you think it’d be okay if you walked down the aisle to this song?”

Ian’s chest shook with laughter, and he carded a hand through Mickey’s hair. And then, in his gentle, sleep-soft voice, in a breathy tone that tickled the shell of Mickey’s ear:

“My looove has come along”

Mickey rolled his eyes fondly, just to prove something to himself, even though he knew Ian couldn’t see him—and then he reached a hand upward and leaned back, drawing Ian’s chin forward to press his lips to his for a brief, lingering moment.

Mickey settled back against Ian’s chest again, and felt Ian press a kiss to the top of his head. He smiled contentedly, closing his heavy eyelids.

Maybe being a couple of sappy motherfuckers wasn’t so bad.

[marvel-and-mischief]

His Saving Grace - Part III

Title: His Saving Grace - Maxwell Lord x F!Reader  Words: 2700 Warnings: Swearing, a conversation about a domestic abuse case but nothing graphic Synopsis: Maxwell finds out what you’ve been hiding and confronts you about it

Part I  -  Part II

It was like the floor had been wiped out from under Maxwell’s feet, the wind knocked from his lungs. Had he seriously made a mistake again? Was his judgement really that skewed that once more he had done what he thought was right and it was turning out to be wrong? You had been so unassuming, the first to be truly kind to Maxwell when you could have been like everybody else. There had to be more to the story, surely?

It hadn’t taken Maxwell long to find your old place of work in the telephone directory. He had spent the morning finding law firms specialising in family law, and rang them one by one asking whether they had previously employed you and had hit the correct one on the sixth try.

Myles and Cooper were a family law firm in the centre of Washington D.C. The secretary who spoke to Maxwell had given him the spiel on when it had been established and what they could offer potential clients but he hadn’t really been listening. And as soon as he had mentioned your name the sickly sweet old woman had quickly turned sour. 

“Look, we’ve put out all the press statements we have, you’re not getting any more on the story.”

Maxwell frowned. Press statements? He knew there had been more to the story you were refusing to tell him, but the hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end and the feeling of being left in the dark was beginning to frustrate him. 

“I’m no journalist. I have recently employed your former colleague-“

“Oh you haven’t, have you? Dear me, do you not read the local newspapers?”

Maxwell bit his tongue at being interrupted, tapping impatiently on the arm of the couch he sat on. 

“I’ve been a little busy lately, would you mind telling me what happened?”

The woman on the other end gave an exasperated sigh.

“Will you be requiring any services from Myles and Cooper?” 

“What? No-“

“Then go to your local library and you’ll find out.” And with that the connection was cut off.

Maxwell took a second to stare at the handset before slamming down the phone and making a mental note to never employ that particular law firm in the future.

But that was how he came to be hidden in the shadowy back corner of his local library, a table to himself with various newspapers dating from 25th April, all the way up to the last article he could find with your name in it on 10th July. 

Maxwell knew how the media worked, the sensationalist headlines, the hyperbolic language, even the pictures they used of you, it was all contrived to make you into someone you weren’t. Usually someone worse, and he was ashamed to say it was working.

Shameful Lawyer Wins Case in Favor of Unfit Mother

Maxwell re-read the headline on the front of the earliest newspaper. It was tame compared to some of the later articles that unnecessarily picked apart your personal life and painted you as a heartless witch who hated children. In the short time he had met you Maxwell couldn’t believe any of that was true. 

Or maybe that was exactly who you were and Maxwell had been fooled. He had been desperate when he called you up, was practically begging for anyone to help him. Was this just an elaborate way of making him pay for all he’d done? Get close enough to him to give him false hope then tear him down even further? And he had fallen hook, line and sinker.

“I’m being paranoid, you can’t be as bad as this,” Maxwell mumbled to himself, eyes flicking over the pictures of you shielding from the flashing lights of the cameras, hiding behind your purse, head in your hands in coffee shops and even one picture of you sticking up a pixelated middle finger to the press. 

Maxwell had been scared before, anxious at times especially in recent weeks, but he wasn’t going to add ‘paranoid’ to his growing list of problems. Pulling up the hood of his coat, Maxwell knew he had to get your side of the story.

-

You hadn’t expected to meet Maxwell again so soon, but he had been insistent on the phone, demanding to see you that evening over an ‘urgent matter’ that he had to talk to you about in person. You had left his apartment the day before on such good terms that you weren’t worried. 

That was until you reached his door. He hadn’t been waiting for you like the first time so you had to knock and wait. When he opened the door he did so slowly, features emotionless, eyes not able to meet yours as he indicated to you to follow him inside. 

He didn’t say a word when you entered the apartment and headed towards the couch. 

“Has something happened?” You enquired, matching Maxwell’s stance when he stayed standing in the middle of the living room. His arms were crossed, hair slightly out of place as though he didn’t take the time to do much more than comb through it this morning. Something was on his mind and you hoped it wasn’t what you feared.

“I want to hear you say it. I want to know what your truth is.” Maxwell’s voice was stern but not unfair, you imagined it was his ‘dad’ voice whenever Alistair had done something naughty. It made you feel so small, pathetic even, that of all the people to be talking down to you it was Public Enemy Number One. 

You knew then that he had found out. And he saw that recognition in your eyes when you guiltily slumped down onto the arm of the couch, making yourself physically smaller under his intense scrutiny. Maxwell chuckled humorlessly and that made you sit up, a look of defiance taking over. Who was this man to judge you? When he didn’t know the full story, when he knew perfectly well what it was like to have the world against you? 

“It’s not what the papers say,” you stressed, swallowing down the lump in your throat before continuing, “I took on a case that had been passed on and on and that should have been the first indication that it wasn’t what it seemed.”

You couldn’t bare to look into Maxwell’s penetrating stare, but you saw his shoulders relax as you started to talk, encouraging you to keep going. 

“The case was a woman with three children, she’d already divorced her husband and wanted full custody of them. She claimed her ex was abusive, an alcoholic, that she was terrified of what he would do to the children if he was left alone with them. It was all lies. I didn’t realise this until it was too late.”

Maxwell quietly sat on the other end of the couch whilst you spoke, listening intently as you tried to keep your emotions under control and the shake out of your voice. 

“I only saw the ex-husband for the first time on day one of court. But I knew immediately she had been lying. Whilst she spent most of the time applying her make-up to look good for the judge, he was a complete mess. He couldn’t look away from his children. I felt terrible in that courtroom. But I had a job to do. I couldn’t have backed out of it if I tried.”

You shook your head, reliving the memories of that case like it was happening all over again. You dared to look up, to see disgust in Maxwell’s face but all you saw was understanding. 

“But you won the case?” Maxwell asked. You nodded.

“I had good evidence. Pictures of bruises on her arms, property damage in their shared home. Even character witnesses that painted her as the perfect wife. She was very good at playing a character. It was all lies to get her own way. I mean, who wasn’t going to believe her?”

“The press.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, moving to sit beside Maxwell when the arm became too uncomfortable, “there were a couple of journalists in particular, I can’t remember their names. They had tried to get in touch with me during the case but I ignored them, which made it look like I knew the truth and didn’t care what they had to say. As soon as the case was won, they were out for my head. They had evidence of their own, you see, that showed exactly what she was like. Paparazzi shots, secret recordings, stuff like that.”

“But you didn’t know, how was any of that your fault?”

���I won the case, everyone said I must have known. And honestly? I just didn’t bother to correct them. I felt like such a fucking idiot, Max. I should have known! So I hid myself away afterwards. My life was invaded, my career was in ruins so I hid.”

It wasn’t lost on either of you that this was the exact reaction Maxwell had to his own life being turned upside down. You shared a knowing glance, to which Maxwell reached over to place his warm hand on top of yours in comfort.

“I am sorry that happened to you,” Maxwell whispered, patting your hand before removing it, “but…” You watched as Maxwell bit his lip.

“What is it?” You frowned, not liking where this was going.Maxwell turned and offered you a sympathetic smile.

“I am sorry for what you’ve been through, truly, but how will it look if it gets out of all the people helping me… it’s you?”

You immediately felt your walls go back up, involuntarily shifting away from Maxwell on the couch.

“No one else is going to help you, are they?” It was more of a statement than a question, defensive in the face of Maxwell’s question. You felt anger rising as Maxwell continued to bite his lip and ponder what to do about the situation. You weren’t going to beg him to keep employing you, your pride wouldn’t allow that, but you weren’t going to leave without a fight either.

“You understand my predicament-“

“I understand you asked me here to listen to my side of the story, what more do you want?”

“I need somebody on my side that I can trust.”

“You can trust me!”

“I need somebody reliable, somebody who is good at their job.”

“I was brilliant at my job, it was one mistake-“

“That cost you everything!” 

Maxwell’s outburst made you leap from the couch away from him in frustration. You didn’t need to hear what you’d already told yourself hundreds of times. You knew you’d messed up, and you were here to put things right, to move on with your life. You took Maxwell’s case to help him as well as yourself, and here he was throwing it back in your face. 

“We are both in the same situation,” you replied calmly, hoping to quell the heated atmosphere, “we both need each other to pick the other up from where we’ve put ourselves. Nobody else will help you Maxwell because nobody else understands what you’re going through better than me.”

Maxwell, still seated on the far side of the couch, leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes to the floor as he listened to your reasoning. He couldn’t disagree, but he was also scared. All he saw when he closed his eyes was the face of his boy looking up to him, he was so scared of letting him down. 

It was so long before either of you made a noise that you decided leaving would be the best thing to do. Let Maxwell calm down and come to you when he was ready. You didn’t want to push your luck too much with him. 

As you turned to leave you passed a pile of unopened letters on a table near the front door. You hadn’t meant to look, it was a quick glance whilst you took your time to leave his apartment (a small part of you hoped he would call out your name to stop you before you reached the door). You recognised the solicitors mark on the front of the envelope and the name above it, Spencer and Brown, a family law firm that were close rivals to Myles and Cooper. 

There was only one reason a family law firm would be in contact with Maxwell, his son.

You could have left it, Maxwell didn’t trust you and you doubted he wanted you poking into his personal business, especially when it came to Alistair. But you wanted to help him. Not out of pity, or even to prove that you could, it definitely wasn’t out of desperation for employment anymore either. 

You liked Maxwell. 

It really hit you as you stood in his entryway, heart heavy with disappointment at Maxwell’s shunning of you, head aching from your argument and the prospect of going home sad and alone. It wasn’t as shocking as you thought it should be, after all what was there to like about the man who nearly destroyed the world? 

It wasn’t that Maxwell that you liked though. It was this version of him, who had been kind to you when he hadn’t known your secret. The man who loved his son and wanted to be a better role model for him. The Maxwell who could be charming but not ashamed to be vulnerable in front of you. And because it was that man you were stupidly falling for, you knew you had to at least try to persuade him to let you help him.

“Maxwell,” you called, picking up the letter and walking back to the living room where Maxwell was pouring himself a glass out of a decanter. 

“You need to go,” he didn’t sound convincing though so you held up the letter to get his attention. He raised an eyebrow, curious as to what you thought you were doing with his mail.

“I can help you,” you urged, head held high and ready to stand your ground, “I might be a terrible person but I was really brilliant at my job.”

“You’re not-“ Maxwell began, before sighing in defeat before the battle had even begun. Maxwell swallowed his drink in one go and took the letter out of your hand. You watched as he opened it and read through it half-heartedly, though you saw a spark of sadness in his eyes.

“Is it Alistair’s mother?” You asked impatiently.

“Yes. She wants full custody.”

“Okay, well considering this is very special circumstances,” Maxwell frowned, silently asking what you meant, “I don’t think anyone has fought a case on the basis of ‘my ex-husband failed on his quest for world domination’, so you can use that to your advantage.”

“Listen, I know you’re trying to help me but you can’t win this for me.” 

You ignored him and asked, “When was the last time you spoke to her?”

Maxwell paused, mulling it over before shaking his head, already knowing what you were going to suggest.

“Weeks ago, she won’t talk to me unless it’s through her lawyer.”

“Then we need to arrange a meeting. We need to show her that you’re serious about turning over a new leaf for Alistair. We can’t do that without sitting down with her.”

Maxwell didn’t look convinced, his frown creating creases on his face that made you want to smooth them away. Clearing your throat you stepped away from Maxwell, feigning deep thought. You needed to keep this professional, you reminded yourself. Otherwise you would only get your heart broken. 

“You’ll help me?” You almost didn’t hear him he spoke so quietly. You nodded, a meek smile on your lips and offered him your hand to shake, just as you had the first time you met. Maxwell huffed in amusement and took your hand, allowing his to linger in yours a little longer than necessary.

Permanent tag list: @autumnleaves1991-blog @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @galactic-rhi @phoenixhalliwell @thewayofthemandalorian @computeringturtle 

[lipstickbisous]

dear theodosia

notes: DRABBLE. DRABBLE DRABBLE DRABBLE DRABBLE. it’s just a very short and fluffy thing i wrote. also i wATCHED HAMILTON and fell in love with this song so i just had to write it for din. but has NOTHING to do with the plot of the mandalorian, it’s literally an au.

again, thank you jordan ( @gummiishark ) because u give me ALL my ideas like half of this was u.

my mando’a is PROBABLY NOT RIGHT. i had to use a mando’a translator so. some words i had to simply make up.

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x reader

summary: din falls in love with every second he has with his little girl.

warnings: well, it really is just fluff fluff fluff, heartwrenching, bare-chested din

word count: 1k

⊱ ���───── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

when you came into this world, you cried, and it broke my heart.

sorgan’s green forests always had a slight breeze blowing through them, and for din, it had been nice to feel it against his naked skin. the sun was peeking through the small cracks of the wooden straw constructing the nursing hut, projecting perfect little golden circles of light onto the floor and your sleeping body.

he could remember the screams--stars, he could remember the screams and how much he had wanted to stop all of your pain right there and then. but you had been so close, so close, and then with only a few minutes in passing, the high-pitched cry had rung throughout the small village, catching each and everyone’s attention. farmers ignored their crops, fishers left the krill in their ponds, and children had stopped their playing. they had huddled around to see the child that had been the fuss for the past few days.

now, the village folk had been under strict instructions to leave the husband and wife alone--mainly because the latter needed her rest--but also because now, after so much time, din would be showing his face to someone other than you. the blinds had been rolled down, the door was closed shut, and while your body rested, din looked down to the baby in his arms.

his thumb traced over the round of her head, feeling the small fuzz. “mesh’la,” he whispered and watched as her lips gently parted with every breath she took and gave. “ner mesh’la ad.” my beautiful daughter.

you drew a deep breath and his eyes instantly looked to you for any signs of distress, but you continued to sleep. din couldn’t even think of what you had gone through the night before. “gar buir did bid pirusti.” your mother did so well. he had flown you to sorgan a week before you were due--not that it had been easy to tell. with full knowledge that a regular hospital would be better for you, the dangers of his--the mandalorian’s wife--showing herself and her child in public were far too high. “ratiin cuyir kind at caysh.” always be kind to her.

din caressed how soft her cheeks were, similar to yours, and the way her nose rounded just at the tip, just like yours. “gar orjorer,” he rasped. you cried. because he had been so used to covering himself in layers of fabric and armor, his bare chest had felt so cold, but with his child in his arms, bundled in blankets, he felt only warmth. “bic shuk’la ni.” it broke me.

seeing this world without the assistance of a blurry and pixelated visor had been a whole new experience for din when you had first removed his helmet; it had been long overdue and both of you had cried. but now, sitting in the afternoon sunlight, his child in his arms, he sobbed. “gar’re bid kun’yl.” you’re so perfect. din’s voice began to crack and he was afraid that a noise too loud and he would wake you and the baby he held. “n’eparavu takisit, ni betnal orjorer,” i’m sorry, i shouldn’t cry. his daughter’s eye stirred under your heavy eyelids and his voice turned hush again. “ni ganar parer bid munit at haa’taylir gar.” i have waited so long to see you.

he thought to when he had returned the child to his family, whispering a soft goodbye underneath his helmet. the child, with glossy eyes and a confused expression, only watched as din’s figure became smaller and smaller in the distance. “ni kiler,” i will. to how your arms embraced him when you had waited in the ship because it had been too hard to say goodbye. “ratiin,” always. you had removed his armor and clothing, soon listening to the hiss and thud of his helmet on the floor. “cabuor gar,” protect you. your stomach had already been half-way swollen--the child had found it fascinating--and you cried when you bathed him that night and he returned the favor. “ci cyare.” my beloved. 

“ne kelir muun’bajir gar anay-lare,” he whispered, watching as her tongue smacked against her lips. i will teach you everything. he could hear the whispers and murmurs from outside. din and you had been the talk of the village for the past few days, and now that this baby had finally been born, it was all anyone wanted to see. “val’re an ke’pare par gar,” they’re all waiting for you. “ad’ika, gar’re an ni’ve copad.” omera had waited outside, winta to her right, with blankets in her arms as she listened to the feared mandalorian whisper to his child. little one, you’re all i want. and as your eyes opened with your back facing him, you could hear him as well. “gedet’ye ne shab vurel drashaar.” please don’t ever grow. “ogir kelir cuyir adate toin’ad copad at kadala gar.” his heart ached with every word he spoke. din couldn’t bare to think about how one day, his little girl he held in his arms would be grown and on her own. there will be people who want to hurt you.

your lips curved into the slightest smile as you pulled your pillow to your face in the golden sunlight. “urmankalar ni,” he rose his child to eye level and pressed his forehead and against hers. believe me. “ni ru’kel ash’amaur volant val liser kadala gar.” the same promise din had made to you once he revealed himself completely to you; the same words he whispered every night before bed, passing it down to his daughter. i will die before they can hurt you. 

din looked over to your body and noticed how your muscles had tightened with your awakening. he smiled before whispering, “ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner mesh’la,” and watched as you turned in your bed, facing him with open eyes. i love you, my beautiful. he looked down to the baby in his hands, the fuzz on the top of her head, how her eyelids were just barely peeking open until he saw the dark brown orbs. and his heart clenched. “bal ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika.” and i love you, my darling.

tags: @javierpenaspinkshirt @gummiishark @cyarikaaa @pedropasscals @zeldasayer @wakalas @honeyedspace @absurdthirst @agent-whiskeys-sweetheart @otherthingsinhead @talesfromtheguild @pascalisthepunkest @thewaythisis @forever-rogue

[magnoliapip]

Ranked: Mother of the Year (Choices) Main Characters

I can’t sleep so that means I need to make another list that I’m not going to proofread before I post, right? Of course it does. But before we start, please remember this is my opinion on who I liked best. Not who impacted the story the most, not who was the best written fictional character of all time, yada yada. This is my personal opinion of the characters I liked best.

Spoilers WILL be featured below. You have been warned.

#13 -- Tallulah Copeland

Tallulah is a parent to a child at Bernhardt Academy, a friend of Vanessa Blackwood, and an active member of the PTA. Hugo is her partner.

This woman. I would flat forget this woman existed until she would show up again just to wreak havoc on MC’s day, usually at someone else’s urging. Every single time she spoke, I just wanted it to be over and she is just an awful, AWFUL person. She’s also the only awful person in this book who never pretends to be nice and/or never apologizes for her actions. Just an all around nasty person.

#12 -- Hugo

Hugo is a parent of a child at Bernhardt Academy and an active member of the PTA. Tallulah is his significant other.

If you’re actually reading these little blurbs, you have to be wondering “MagnoliaPip? How in the hell is Hugo ranked lower than two other unmentionables in this story?”

Thank you for asking, no one ever.

Put frankly, Hugo just annoyed the crap out of me. I know that’s supposed to be part of his character, but it went above and beyond the scope of acceptable annoyance. I grew to hate every second he was speaking. He never really contributed anything to the plot other than some irritating drivel. He wasn’t an antagonist, but he also wasn’t a pleasing good guy. He’s also the reason I’m considering not re-reading this book again right away like I want to.

#11 -- Guy Ledford

This man. This. Man. THIS MAN!

This part is going to include major spoilers, y’all, so if you haven’t read it and are still intending to, skip away now!! Again, major spoilers from here on out kids.

Guy Ledford is your main character’s ex-husband who has been absent for four years since the start of the book and wants to reconnect with his daughter. He is also a CEO of a snack food company/app, Nomme. He is the main antagonist of the book.

The reason I didn’t rank him lower is he genuinely adds something to the plot. He IS the plot. He’s the reason this book exists. However, he is such a scumbag he deserves nothing. He feels like a trope for quite a lot of the time, but at least he’s not physically abusive like a true trope could have been (at least, I never noticed him being physically abusive). Just, you know, a gaslighting, manipulative, arrogant, rude, selfish son of a-

I also love that they named him “Guy”. I’ve only ever met one man named this in my life, so it’s funny to me that they named this jerk “Guy” so it’s not only the most generic sounding name (did his parents also get a dog named “Dog” and a cat named “Kitty”?), but also one that a lot of men won’t likely have so they don’t have to get name checked in relation to him.

I like that you can get a good outcome (Guy ends up with joint custody with visitations  every weekend and having to back pay) without spending diamonds in this game as long as you make the right choices, but for those who DID spend all of the diamonds, I would have liked to have seen Guy end up with worse. I would have liked to see, if you made most of the right choices and bought all of the diamond stuff, him ending up with every other weekend or maybe just visitation. I know he’s trying to be a good dad (but still an absolutely terrible human being), but every weekend seems like so much when your daughter is in school.

#10 -- Augustus Blackwood

August Blackwood is one of Vanessa Blackwood’s sons and is a student at Bernhardt Academy.

I’m not going to spend a lot of time on this one. But he hurt my daughter and that’s enough. I would have liked to have seen him fleshed out a little bit more beyond being basically just a schoolyard bully. His motivations for his actions are hinted on, but nothing is really ever done and he’s mostly just a prop for something to hurt your daughter.

#9 -- Vanessa Blackwood

Vanessa Blackwood is the president of the PTA, a single mom, and a lawyer and becomes an antagonist to your character.

I’m probably going to get hate for this, but I want to like Vanessa. Obviously, she’s hateful and offensive, in some very, very unredeemable ways, but there’s something about characters like that which makes me want to forgive them and teach them how to be better. How to rehabilitate their bitterness. I felt it with Olivia Nevrakis, I felt it with Victoria Fontaine, and I know certain people in the fandom felt it with Becca Davenport and Poppy Min-Sinclair. 

**DISCLAIMER** Keep in mind, I’m not trying to excuse homophobia and racism here. They are both despicable things and should be accounted for. However, after having grown up in a homophobic and racist home and learning to leave that shit in the dust by the time I was eighteen and SLOWLY teaching my family to do the same over the course of the last 10 years, I believe people can change if you give them room and help to. Not everyone will, not many people will, but I believe in giving the chance. We need to force people to take responsibility and learn from their mistakes. Should the book have been approved as a series rather than a stand alone, I think this might have been a very real option within book 2.

#8 -- Ajax “AJ” Blackwood

Ajax Blackwood is one of Vanessa Blackwood’s sons and a student at Bernhardt Academy.

AJ is the quieter of the Blackwood boys, AJ is a shy kid who hates that his brother is mean just as much as your daughter does. He finally has enough within the book and stands up to him, which was more than a little satisfying and he does seem to have a genuinely good heart. I think it would be so cute for him, your daughter, and Luz to be their own adorable trio of friends. 

#7 -- Levi Schuler

Levi Schuler is your neighbor who helps save the day for MC early on in the book and becomes a friend to both her and your daughter. He is also one of your love interests.

And if this list is going to invoke hate from the masses, it will be this entry that does it. I know how loved Levi is. And I love him too! I just find him, and his musician plot, to be a bit tiring. He’s a wonderfully supportive friend/love interest, just about one of the nicest people, and he’s great with your daughter. I swear, all of the love interests in this book would be god tier in any book. It’s truly unfair to the others that we got three amazing ones here along with a great cast of characters. However, since that did happen, Levi will sit here at #7. He can have a consolatory rugelach while I continue on.

#6 -- Faye Devore

Faye Devore is your ex-husband’s new girlfriend, a younger social media influencer.

I loved Faye. Right from the start, I loved Faye. I prayed they weren’t going to make this into one of those books where we were supposed to hate the “other woman” because those plots are old, outdated, and overused. Thankfully, MOTY lets us skirt right around it and we end up with a wonderful character like Faye, who is the human definition of having the best intentions.

She gets on well with your daughter, even pointing out to MC at one point that she thinks of her like a little sister, and goes above and beyond to make her happy. She is genuinely upset about going against MC’s wishes about your daughter appearing on social media and doesn’t appear to want to cause any harm or hard feelings with MC at any point during the book. In fact, she wants to be friends. 

I would have loved for this and for it to be fleshed out more, again, if we had ever gotten a book 2. I’m also that jerk who would have totally romanced her in a replay and would have emptied my wallet to get a scene in that hypothetical book 2 where Guy finds out. Take that homophobe!

#5 -- Dr. Eiko Matsunaga

Dr. Eiko Matsunaga is a science teacher who teaches at the private school your daughter goes to and becomes friendly with MC because of your daughter. She is also one of your love interests.

If I would have had a teacher like Dr. Matsunaga when I was in school, maybe I would have cared about science at any point during my childhood. Eiko is so incredibly smart but has a heart of gold. She could be off teaching at colleges or writing published journals, but she’s teaching elementary science at a private school and honestly enjoying herself! She wants to see children succeed and will give any child who wants to do so, like your daughter, all of the help they need.

I want to romance her. I want to be her friend. I want it all because I’m selfish even when I don’t because I could never possibly be worthy of the supremacy that is Eiko. Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

#4 -- Your Daughter / Zoey

Your daughter is 9 years old at the start of the book and desperately wants to be an astronaut. She is a science whiz and moves from public school to Bernhardt Academy at the beginning of the book to kickstart her education.

It makes me so sad that I will never actually have this child. “Zoey” is just so smart and funny and sweet and I love her so much. I spent so many diamonds on her. She’s a pixelated little bundle of amazing and I would die for her. That’s it.

#3 -- Alma Velasco

Alma Velasco is your neighbor, best friend, and (for part of the time) co-worker.

What did our character do to deserve such an amazing ride-or-die friend like Alma? She never disbelieves MC, is forever supportive as a shoulder to cry on and a supplier of good wine, and also helps MC out of more than one pinch. Seriously an amazing friend, and I wish we could have done something equally amazing for her to reciprocate.

#2 -- Thomas Mendez

Thomas Mendez is a lawyer and a single dad who becomes friends with MC very early on in the book. He is also one of your three love interests.

A big reason for why Thomas is at #2 is because of who #1 is but we’ll get there in a second.

There’s also something about Thomas that speaks to me as a person. It’s more than just being interested as a love interest or as a friend. There’s something about who he is. His awkwardness, his humor, his kindness and his generosity all make him someone I envy as much as I admire.

He takes on MC’s case pro bono when he doesn’t have to. He shrugs it off like it’s no big deal, but stepping back and looking at the it, by all accounts he was walking into a handily losing situation. He was also super busy at this time being a single parent himself and working on his class action lawsuit. That’s not even saying anything about him still grieving for Soledad.

However, the biggest reason I love Mr. Mendez is...

#1 -- Luz Mendez

Luz Mendez is a student at Bernhardt Academy who becomes best friends with your daughter early in the book. She is a soccer and art fan.

This little girl is the best thing I have ever read in my entire life. She made the entire book. Every character that came before her pales in comparison to her majesty. She is a goddamn queen and deserves everything.

Every scene with her is gold and I wish we had more. This little girl was completely willing to curb stomp someone with her cleats at the courthouse if something would have happened to your daughter. She is so aggressively herself and it is a joy to see. The relationship between her and her father is what really kept me going through the book’s more difficult spots. There is such true love and acceptance there, as well as the drive and desire to do better for the other than I just...There is really no way for me to properly explain the perfection that is Luz Mendez so I guess you’ll just have to read it yourself.

---

I’m not sure why it took me so long to start reading Mother of the Year (MOTY), but I’m so glad I did. In 3 days flat I binged the entire book, wasted so many accumulated diamonds, and had the time of my life. The cast of characters in MOTY is perfect and I wanted to rank them according to my opinion on which ones were the best. I ranked all of the characters I found to be profound enough to matter to the storyline or that MC or “Daughter” had enough interactions with to matter. As a result, there are several characters who didn’t make this list. 

Sound off below if you wish.

[hpfluff-fest]

HP Fluff Fest Masterlist

We would like to thank everybody who has made this fest such a success, whether as a prompter, creator, or reader! Both of us hope the featured fics and art have brought you happiness and warm fuzzy feelings. Now, without further ado, may we proudly present the HP Fluff Fest 2020 Masterlist. 

Albus Severus Potter/Scorpius Malfoy

ART

🌻god, you're beautiful by lov-lyness || @lov-lyness, Traditional Art (G)

Scorpius and Albus are by a lake, Scorpius's soulmark is showing.

FIC

🌻Sticky Love by motherofmercury || @motherofmercury, 1.3k, (G)

Scorpius always leaves encouraging notes and reminders around their flat for Albus to find.  Albus realises he's a messy person to live with.  Cleaning and the discovery of Albus' romantic side ensues.

 Bartemius Crouch Jr./Harry Potter FIC 

🌻Coming Home Late by Firebull || @swampwitchkaterina, 525 words (G)

It had become a bit of a routine to them.

 Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

ART

🌻K is for Kiss by Pinkelephant42 || @pinkelephant42, Digital Art (G)

Harry escapes the spotlight to teach young magical kids. Draco is charmed by his son's new teacher.

🌻Moving in together - shopping for laughs. by digthewriter || @digtheshipper, Digital Art (G)

Trying out mattresses w/ your partner leads to giggles in the furniture showroom. 

🌻The Case for Borrowed Underwear and Morning-After Pancakes by toutcequonveut || @cequonveut, Digital Art (Comic) (T)

Harry and Draco have just Done the Deed™️ for the first time. After a truly fantastic night, Harry wakes up alone in bed and wonders where Draco has wandered off to..

FIC

🌻Age is just a number by gnarf || @gnarf, 1.5k (T)

Married for decades, their life is perfect. Until Harry gets a call and hears the following words: "Mr Potter, we caught your husband stealing ten large packs of King Sized condoms."

🌻And They Say Romance is Dead by static_abyss || @static-abyss, 9.7k (E)

Harry is in love with Draco Malfoy. This is, quite possible, the worst thing that could have ever happened to him. Not because he doesn't want to love Draco but because now that Harry knows, he doesn't know how he's supposed to tell him.

Or, five times Harry tried to tell Draco he loved him and one time he succeeded.

🌻Chasing Coffee by Yesimawriter || @foularcadebanana, 5.6k (T)

Harry's service dog, Coffee, is obsessed with a certain Slytherin prat, and Harry cannot figure out why. It can't be because Harry wants to spend more time with him, right?

🌻darling, your kisses are sweeter than honey by unicorninthelibrary || @unicorn-in-the-library, 1k (T)

No matter how many years have passed, waking up next to Draco is Harry’s favorite thing in life. 

  🌻Dear (For Want of a Better Idea) Diary by tigersilver || @stripedsilverfeline, 12.3k (M)

Draco likes his life; there’s not much not to like. He’s got himself a family of rescued kneazles and nosy Weasleys plus two fun jobs to keep him busy, which is more than he ever expected, post-Voldemort.  But he’ll have a bash at keeping a journal, just as his boss George suggested. Who knows? It might even help him sort out what’s up with Potter, right? 

  🌻Disastrously Perfect by savant (teii) || @teii, 8.3k (T) 

Neville figured that whatever was going on between Harry and Draco, he could quietly keep out of the way and observe from a safe distance. Luna, however, has other plans.

🌻 Duck And Cover by Drarrymadhatter || @drarrymadhatterstuff, k (T)

Draco is struggling with eighth year, until he’s forced to adopt a flock of ducklings. Harry, convinced his old nemesis is up to his old tricks, decided to find out what he’s up to. When he discovers his fluffy secret, he decides to have some fun with it. However, along the way, he starts to realise how much Malfoy has changed.

  🌻Ferret Support Services by CoCo (cportera) || @cportera, 4k (G)

Harry discovers a ferret while hiding away from his friends. He adopts the furry animal telling him secrets, never knowing the ferret might have secrets of his own.

🌻If This is Happiness, I Don't Mind Having This by Orpheous87, 6.2k (G)

Eighth Year isn't going too well for Draco. He's isolated and ignored by his classmates. Then he stumbles across a flock of tiny ducklings that need a helping hand. What Draco doesn't expect is someone to offer him a helping hand.

🌻I Knew I Loved You Before I Met You by Ladderofyears || @clemandben, 20.7k (E)

All Draco ever wanted was to carry his beloved husband's baby. It had been a journey of years, of tearful nights and smiling while he was breaking inside. It was finally happening though. They've tried for so long. They're having a child.

  🌻Just Like Potions by vivi1138 || @penguinanimagus, 2.3k (E)

Kreacher is on holidays. Draco thinks he can cook because he's so good at Potions. Hint: he can't.

  🌻Let Your Heart Hold Fast by MoonlitMarauder || @moonlitmaruader, 7.1k (E)

After three years together you'd think Harry would have learned to let Draco keep his secrets, but Draco is up to something. He just knows it. Or  That time when Ron had to give Harry advice on his love life.

🌻Love In Ikea by kai_blxck || @im-kaifused, 30.6k (T)

In all the trips Harry had made to Ikea, Harry never expected to bump into the love of his life? 

Draco never thought Wizards could exist but here he is, falling in love with one. 

  🌻Misunderstandings are as easy as A-B-C by VeelaWings || @veelawings, 3.4k (T)

A slow blink and Potter seemed to catch himself, clearing his throat and nodding, his smile friendly and bright when directed at Scorpius and Draco. “Hey Mal—”

“Mr Potter,” Draco spoke up rudely, but necessary. “This is my son, Scorpius Black. He’ll be one of your students this year.” 

Potter looked completely wrongfooted for a few seconds before his mind appeared to latch onto the most likely conclusion. His expression cleared up as Scorpius took a step forward and offered a tiny hand. 

“Hello, Mr Potter. It’s nice to meet you,” Scorpius said, enunciation steady and practiced.

  🌻Seeking: pet carer for Bartholomew (four-year old rescue greyhound, no special needs)  by GallifreyisBurning || @gallifrey1sburning, 14.7k (E)

When Draco’s boyfriend ends their relationship rather abruptly (and, frankly, extremely rudely), he leaves Draco with full-time responsibility for their rescue greyhound, Bartholomew. Draco loves his dog with all his heart, but the long hours he works at his law firm mean that he can’t possibly be home as much as Bartholomew needs. Enter Sirius Pet Care, an app designed to solve this very problem! When Draco books Harry, he’s relieved at how quickly the man and his dog bond. He’s less relieved by how unexpectedly, distractingly attractive Harry turns out to be… and how Draco’s afternoon meetings keep being “mysteriously” cancelled, meaning that he JUST HAPPENS to be home when Harry comes by. After all, it’s not appropriate to ogle one’s employees… right?

  🌻sign me up for that full-time by M0stlyVoid || @bonesliketambourines, 4k (T)

Harry should have learned by now to never trust anything the Weasley twins try to pass off as a thoughtful holiday gift, no matter how innocuous it might appear.

🌻Soft & Hard by DragonGirl87 || @drgngrl87​, 8k (T)

In which Draco is forced to grudgingly admit that Harry does have some taste and Harry learns more about mattresses than any sane person should ever know.

🌻Some Assembly Required by peachpety || @peachpety, 6.5k (E)

A relationship must occasionally endure a test of strength, be it confronting an ex, or meeting the inlaws. Sometimes, however, an inanimate object can make or break a couple. Harry and Draco's relationship is put to the test when they attempt to assemble a piece of IKEA furniture.

🌻They were Once Young by acupforslytherin || @acupforslytherin, 6.4k (T)

Draco nervously expected for the worst when Harry invited him to Godric’s Hollow for the summer holidays. Little did he know, he was in for a delightful French dinner, two generations of embarrassing Potters, and a fascinating story of how Harry’s parents got together.

  🌻Too Many Legs by vivi1138 || @penguinanimagus, 4.4k (T)

Draco is thrilled when his son produces a powerful bout of accidental magic. But unlike most children his age, Scorpius doesn't stop there, and soon Draco is overwhelmed. Harry just finds it funny. 

  🌻Too precious to share by slowroad || @slowroad, 1.6k (M)

Harry and Draco are several months into their eighth year at Hogwarts. They've been in a relationship for a while now, but no one knows about them yet and they like it that way.

🌻Whiskers and Kisses by MotherBooker || @motherbookerao3​, 1.5k (G)

When rabbits trust and care about a person, they can be very loving and affectionate creatures.

  🌻With a Bite and A Hiss (and Some Curry On Top) by Zandra Gorin || @zandragorin, 4.7k (T)

Draco keeps bringing animals home and keeps cooking curry for Harry. Harry is of the opinion that it has got to stop. Well, not the cooking curry part.  

Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter/Neville Longbottom ART

🌻Home is where the Bloody Plants are by Thunder_of_Dragons || @thunder-of-dragons, Digital Animated Pixel Art (G)

When Harry invited Neville and Draco to move into Grimmauld Place with him, his one condition was that they help him remove all of the old Pureblood artefacts. Draco was more than happy to agree, but he's determined not to let their drawing room become overrun by Neville's plants.

 Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger

FIC 

🌻Crookshanks and the Worst Weekend by Aneiria || @aneiria-writes, 2.1k (T)

In which Crookshanks' perfect weekend is ruined by the arrival of a tiny, annoying, infuriating kneazle kitten who follows him home, and the wizard who comes looking for it.

🌻Stranded Apart by In_Dreams || @indreamsink, 10.5k (T)

Lost in the wilderness without their wands, Hermione and Draco will need to learn to work together if they want to make it out in one piece.

🌻The Art of Seating Etiquette by inadaze22 || @inadaze22, 9.7k (E)

Hermione believes that every problem has a solution, and that solution can be found in a book. That is, until Draco starts sitting to her right every Friday. She has no answers until help comes in the form of an unlikely source: Ron Weasley.

🌻The Heart of Healing by niffizzle || @niffizzle, 5.1k (T)

Spending her Saturday volunteering at St. Mungo's was Hermione Granger’s favourite part of the week. Nothing would ruin that, not even Draco Malfoy showing up to complete his community service hours.

🌻The Importance of Being Honest  by floorcoaster || @floorcoaster, 9k (T)

In the pursuit of the truth, sometimes nature lends a hand.

 Draco Malfoy/Neville Longbottom

ART

🌻A Tattoo to Match by Pinkelephant42 || @pinkelephant42, Digital Art (G)

Tattoo Artist Draco Malfoy and Florist Neville Longbottom work next to each other, flirt a lot, and get matching tattoos.

 Dudley Dursley/Gregory Goyle FIC 

🌻Stranger in the bakery by toutcequonveut || @cequonveut, 3.6k (M) 

The people of the town are confused. Dudley is confused, but then he isn't. Greg is confused, but he's in love and that's more important. Harry is very confused, but just goes with it.

Or: a glimpse into the morning after Dudley and Greg's first time, featuring bakery buns and other buns

 Gen 

FIC

🌻it seems to come down to us by porcelainsalt (bluedreaming) || @porcelainsalt, 1.1k (G)

Minerva takes matters into her own hands.

Ginny Weasley/Luna Lovegood

FIC 

🌻Bluebells and Asters by goldenzingy46 || @goldenzingy46, 826 (G)

Luna braids Ginny's hair. Ginny complains about boys. Softness (and a little kissing) ensues.

🌻Morning Eggs by PhenomenalAsterisk || @phenomenalasterisk, 842 words (G)

Luna began her mornings with tea. Ginny began her mornings with Luna. With the first stirrings of consciousness, Ginny found herself snuggling into her beloved — Luna’s neck, her hair, her belly, wherever Ginny could reach, really, was free game for the morning ritual. Ginny would cling like a barnacle to Luna until she was lucid enough to function on her own.

🌻Sleepy Smiles by PhenomenalAsterisk || @phenomenalasterisk, 554 (G)

Luna’s eyes are still shut, though the corners of her thin lips are just barely quirked into a smile. “You missed the movie, love.” Ginny says quietly, pressing her lips against her hair in a brief kiss. 

Luna tucks her head further into Ginny’s neck and murmurs back, “I woke up for the best part.” Ginny smiles. It’s not unusual for Luna to enjoy her wife’s strength, in the bedroom and otherwise, though she has never asked for something as indulgent as being carried to bed. 

OR Ginny carries Luna to bed. Soft, sweet, and short bit of domestic fluff.

Ginny Weasley/Pansy Parkinson

FIC 

🌻get off on whiplash by cjmasim || @lesbianlilyevans​, 6k (T)

THE QUIBBLER'S 5TH ANNUAL HOLIDAY DRAWING

TWO LUCKY ENTRANTS WILL WIN AN ALL-EXPENSES-PAID WEEK-LONG TRIP TO PORTOFINO, ITALY

TO ENTER, RETURN THE FORM BELOW VIA OWL NO LATER THAN APRIL 17, 2004

Ginny manages to convince herself that entering the drawing was nothing other than a way to help a friend out by getting the numbers for The Quibbler's entries higher.

Naturally, she wins the drawing. 

 Harry Potter/Severus Snape

FIC 

🌻How to See Without a Camera by RoonilWazlibMalfoy  || @evenmyzefronposter, 11.7k (E)

Having returned to Hogwarts after his training to take over for Madam Pomfrey, Harry was just happy to be back home. He didn't even mind it when he realized he'd have to work closely with Severus Snape.  One Kiss Cam incident at a Quidditch Match, however, left him wondering just how close he could get to the man. 

🌻Quite The Perfect Sunday by HogwartsToAlexandria || @dwell-on-dreams​, 751 words (E)

Spending all day in bed, every Sunday they could, had been on of Harry and Severus's traditions almost from the start. It was a moment just for them, which they cherished and made the most of every time.

Hermione Granger/Luna Lovegood

ART 

🌻Picking Daisies by dragontamerdrarry || @dragontamerdame, Digital Art (G)

Luna Lovegood has a terrace garden filled with Xenophilius Lovegood approved yellow flowers. Today, Luna’s picked some yellow daisies and is enjoying spending some quality time with her girlfriend (who has her nose buried in the hottest new Magizoology text in town!)

Hermione Granger/Narcissa Malfoy

FIC 🌻Life Is Good by Houseofmalfoy || @malfoylestrange​, 1.2k (G)

Narcissa surprises herself with the number of times she thinks that little sentence, surprises herself with how genuinely happy she is with the way her life turned out, even if she’s no longer surprised at all by the person who gave it to her.

She’s happy.  

Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson

FIC

🌻A Million Worlds Apart by SiriuslyThatBitch || @siriuslythatbitch, 13.6k (E)

After spending the bulk of her childhood fighting a dark wizard, Hermione was looking forward to a relaxing year. Too bad fate always has something else planned, including ancient spells, sarcastic roommates, and a suffocating amount of sexual tension.

🌻Exodus by cdav || @cdav, 6.6k (T)

After the war, Hermione finds herself drawn to Pansy Parkinson for reasons she can't quite explain. Parkinson is adamant that they won't work out. Hermione's determined to prove otherwise.

Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley

FIC

🌻The Perfect Moment by DameinToyland || @dameintoyland, 1.8k (G)

Hermione gets home late from work and witnesses story time with Ron and the kids. Ron is nostalgic, Hugo is excited, and Rose isn’t having any of it.

  James Sirius Potter/Teddy Lupin

FIC

🌻The Waiting (Is The Hardest Part) by Ladderofyears || @clemandben, 1.1k (E)

Teddy is waiting to give Jamie a performance.

Remus Lupin/Sirius Black

FIC

🌻A Purrfect Match by captainegg || @im-captain-egg, 1.7k (G)

When Remus walked into the shelter that day, he expected to leave with a new furry companion and not meet the love of his life.

🌻Here comes the sun by PollyDarton || @polly-darton, 5.5k (M)

Honestly, screw the sun. For all I care the world revolves around you.

  🌻Moonlit Reflections by MoonCat457 || @mooncat457writing, 6.4k (T) 

Sirius has been pining for Remus for far too long and James is sick of it. So, when it’s James’ turn to go on a late-night scouting mission with Remus on the grounds to work on the Marauder’s Map, he sends Sirius instead with instructions to finally just admit his feelings.

[mystic-oneshots]

Morning Video Call

This little one-shot was originally for Jumin week but I wasn’t able to finish it on time but I still wanted to post it! Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 1415

(Fluff)

I wait eagerly for Jumin's call. He's away from the city on a business trip and the only way to hear his voice right now is through a call. It has become a habit of ours that each morning we will wake up and wait for the other to video call so we can have a morning drink together, much like how we would do if he was home with me.

My legs fumble in anticipation under the dining table as I look at the screen of my laptop. My hands mildly shaking in excitement as they grasp the hot mug in front of me. I don't want to wait any longer. A smile grows on my face with every thought related to being able to talk with my husband in just a short moment.

Just as expected, at 8:30 on the dot, a call comes through. Jumin's name pops up on the screen and I instantly click the accept button as if my life depended on it. And there I see his face!

"Good morning, my angel." His warm voice greets coming through the speakers. He's already dressed for the day. His hair all brushed and shiny, a fresh and clean-shaven face, and his suit constructed perfectly to form around his body. The professional manner of this man is extraordinary I admit. It makes me look lazy compared to him, with my hair thrown up carelessly and still in my dressing gown

"Good morning! I miss you so much!" My expression softens, the longing feeling of wanting him home slowly filling me up to the brim.

"No words can describe how much I want to be home with you right now, darling. Only one more night and I'll be by your side again." His words melt my heart. I cannot wait much longer. The penthouse is far too empty without him here, even though I have Elizabeth for some company.

I take a sip from my cup, taking a moment to process the flavor of the steamy beverage. A milky Earl grey with a spoonful of sugar to sweeten the bitterness of the black tea. A common brew Jumin would usually enjoy whilst at home. It helps to make it feel like he's here with me.

"What have you got this morning?" I ask in intrigue as I gesture to the camera at my own mug. Jumin smiles as he sips from his own. A satisfied sigh escapes as he parts his lips from the cup's edge.

"Americano today. I need that little bit of extra energy to get through today's endeavors. Of course, I'm guessing you have the usual?" He responds. I hold my cup up confidently and nod my head towards the screen. I take another sip.

"I accidentally made more than I should of! I guess it was out of habit like I was making you a cup too!" I fiddle with the handle of the ceramic and let out a subtle laugh at my mistake. Reflecting on the small incident makes me wish for him to be home right now even more!

Jumin chuckles and comments on what I said. He reassures me of his schedule for tomorrow, how he'll be leaving early in the morning to get the fastest flight back to the city to meet his father in time for lunch. Secretly I was hoping he'd offer for me to join him but I'm guessing that his father would only want to meet with his son to discuss his trip. After lunch, he explains that he'd have the rest of the day off to spend time at home with me! I don't think my smile could get any bigger!

"Is there anything you want to do when I get back? Maybe go out for dinner or go shopping?" He asks before taking the last sip of his coffee. I sit there for a moment, my head perched on my hand as I tap my lips with my fingers. Many thoughts run through my head. Anything with Jumin would be a pleasure so I have a wide variety of choices. One thought constantly reoccurs, however. I just want him to be home!

"I honestly just want you here at home! I don't need to go out, not for a meal or spontaneous shopping sprees. The only place I want to be is in your arms, maybe sharing tea?" I imagine. "What if we used that old teapot we got as a wedding gift? We could have a tea party!"

"Aren't we a little old for tea parties, MC?" Jumin chuckles at the thought, his cheeks a blurry shade of pink on the laptop's display.

"You can never be too old for a tea party!"

A knock on the door comes from the other end of the line and I watch Jumin's head turn to look in the direction of the noise. He gestures for me to wait as he gets up from his seat to answer. The picture is too pixelated for me to see clearly who was there but I can just about make out the audio. Does it seem like someone had given Jumin something or maybe a few things? It's very hard to tell.

"I apologize for that, my love. It was one of the assistants here giving me the paperwork for my morning meeting today. Oh, and another coffee!" He relays back to me as he returns to his seat, placing the new cup down in front of him. A small stack of paperwork lays within Jumin's clutches. His delicate fingers flick through the individual pieces of paper to check that everything is there before placing them down on the table in front of him as well.  He then drinks some coffee.

"Go easy on the caffeine, yeah? Too much won't do any good for you!" I say with a hint of concern in my tone. My husband's expression softens and his face gets closer to the camera.

"Please don't worry, darling! I'll take it easy. This will be the last one I promise. I just need a little boost to help me throughout this busy day today." The paperwork finds his hands again and he begins to read the first page.

I lean back in my chair, holding tightly to my own mug as I observe him through the screen. I know that once he's finished that drink he'll have to go. I wish I could find a way to make him stay longer but then I'd make him late for his meeting and he'd be in trouble. Being separated from your loved ones is always difficult, especially if it's your soulmate! I should be used to this by now with the number of business trips he's been on but it's a feeling that I don't enjoy.

I watch the expression on my husband's face change as he studies the paperwork. It shifts from frustration to boredom all within a matter of seconds. It's possible the subject matter of his meeting isn't to his liking which would be a reasonable explanation for how he looks. IT's also fairly obvious that he's stressed too. Oh, how I wish I could help him out!

With every sip of coffee, Jumin gets more and more agitated. Is there something wrong with what he's been provided? Or could it purely be because he knows that this will all be over tomorrow and he can't wait for it all to finish?

I look down into my own mug. I've barely reached halfway through my tea. It must be getting cold by now. Maybe I could convince him to stay until I've finished my drink? No, that's too selfish!

"Is there something wrong, darling?" Jumin grabs my attention. "You've gone quiet..."

"No, I'm fine. I was just thinking that's all!" I reply with a weak smile. "Thinking of ways to make the day go quickly so you can come home sooner!"

He chuckles. A toothy grin plants itself across his expression.

"I'll be home before you know it! In the meantime, enjoy your day for me!" I blush at his words.

He's right. I should try and enjoy the day. If I sit around being all sad and bored, then time will only go slower. I must make the most of the time I have on my own as it's only a matter of time before he is here with me again. I think that thought alone will keep me going!

[hazbincalifornia]

She wasn’t old enough to participate in the Games yet- fourteen was the lower limit, although particularly buff imps who had hit puberty early could sometimes squeeze in. It was only one more year, though, and she could cheer Dad on in the meantime as he ran through the course and yanked some poor sucker into the dirt. Even from up in the box, she could tell from from a mile away, with his horns and scars and gleeful laughter that rang throughout the entire Wrath Ring.

“He’s wonderful, isn’t he?” Papa said with a dreamy sigh, and she nudged him with a grin, her amethyst cape shifting on the seat with the movement.

“Yeah, he is. They don’t really expect you to be an impartial judge, do they?”

“It’s not my fault he’s so good!” He curled a fist over his chest, wounded that his own daughter would imply he’d stoop so low as to unfairly award his husband the win. “Someone else won last year, after all!”

“And the year before that?”

“That one was a tie, I will have you know.” He ruffled her hair. “As long as he comes out on top, I’m simply following the rules as they’re stated!” 

Dad yanked hard enough to dislocate an arm, and the pinned imp let out a pitiful whine like air being let out of a balloon, and beside her, Papa stood up. 

“That’s our cue, dear.”

She’d heard him give the speech onstage a dozen times before. This time, Dad was seated in a chair next to her, ruffling her hair with hands still smeared with mud.

“Did you see how I kicked that guy’s ass?”

“Of course I did! I can’t believe you still even can, old man.”

“Old man?” He growled at her before his playful hair mussing turned into a full-on noogie. “You’ll pay for that, prince-”

“Princess?” Papa turned to her. “Would you like to help, this year?”

She slid off her chair, trying to quickly squeeze some of the mud off before reaching for the book. His hands settled hers on the right spot, and she spoke in cadence with him, the words already memorized.

As the sky broke open and he smiled down at her, the edges of the spell crackled, pixel glitches, and she blinked.

No, not yet. Not yet.

Sorry, kid, that’s as far as I can go. Memories are hard to fabricate from.

The figures froze before melting down pixel by pixel, dissolving into dust around her, and her hand clenched into a fist as her cape and fancy clothes flickered away, leaving her in pajamas and alone in the holographic simulator room at Twix’s house.

This is the third time. You gonna tell Twix you’re just using her for her toys or should I?

“I’m not just using her,” Stella muttered, staring up at the ceiling. It vaulted up what seemed to be hundreds of feet, but it did reach an end, closing her in and off from the stars that had been there mere moments ago.

She was underground. They hadn’t been real. None of it had. The Harvest Moon Festival had been weeks ago, and she’d been in the audience with Millie and Moxxie. 

“It’s just... nice to pretend for a little while, that’s all.”

[psychovigilantewrites]

Chapter 13 - Alone Again

Word Count: 15,835

TW:  mentions of child r*pe, mentions of p*dophilia, mentions of self-harm, mentions of trauma, unconsensual biting, unprotected sex, mentions of mental breakdown.

A/N: Hey guys! I felt very bad for updating so slowly, so here it is early! Happy Valentine’s! Special thanks to those who has sent me fanart and kofis!! I appreciate them all, honestly, it’s really amazing. 

Masterlist

Kofi

The ding of his phone woke Jason up from sleep. Even during the grogginess of slowly regaining consciousness, Jason knew who it was.

He blinked his eyes a few times to get used to waking up, and cleared his dry throat. He laid there in bed for a few moments, staring at the tin roof of the safe house he was so proud of. He wondered whether the text would be business or pleasure.

He liked it when you were there with him at night.

But you were too fucking stubborn, and was still hesitating to continue seeing him. It had been a month since the first time you joined him, and since then you went out with him a couple more times, only to investigate the elite pedophile ring that plagued Jason’s mind ever since he found out that it existed, and that Bruce had kept it from him.

Your dilemma meant that you weren’t with him all the time and got upset every time he killed someone.

Jason wasn’t a patient person, but the two of you still texted and called. Discussions, or banter. It was as if you were his friend.

As if everything wasn’t as fucked up as it was.

And however hard he tried to separate his feelings from his goals, to keep you at a distance, to wall himself off, he had obviously failed.

Because now he was smiling to himself at the thought of waking up to your texts.

He had freaked out at first, confused as to why he had started to hate you less and less over time, but now he realised that it didn’t matter how he felt anymore.

As long as he could snatch you away from Bruce.

The fact that you made him feel like he wasn’t alone anymore was only a bonus.

***

To say that it was troublesome to have Dick around would be an understatement.

He had originally mentioned that he was only going to stay for a week, but one week became two, and a month later, he. Was. Still. Fucking. Here.

The fact that you were living under the same roof as Batman meant that you were almost constantly on your feet, but now Nightwing was added to the equation, it felt suffocating.

At least Bruce didn’t like to poke into your personal life as much. Dick Grayson on the other hand, loved to play the doting older brother. You weren’t fooled, though. You knew he was still suspicious of you, and was using his caring nature to his advantage, touching the line between concern and straight up paranoia.

You sighed out loud.

Michelle Myers turned her head to glare at you. You stuck up your middle finger to her, earning an audible gasp.

Shit, you hadn’t meant to do that. You forgot where you were for a second.

School was one of the ways to escape the prying and ever analytical eyes of your older brother, and a way to run from the feelings of growing distance you felt between you and your family.

It was all Jason’s fault.

You had let him get into your head ever since he told you that Bruce had kept a disgustingly huge and important piece of information regarding Gotham’s elite society- the society that you were a part of.

You felt as though there was an invisible line that separated you and Bruce now.

It wasn’t a nice feeling.

“What the hell was that?” Michelle came up to your desk as you were packing to leave.

“I’m sorry?” you feigned innocence.

“You bitch!” she hissed, “You know what you did!”

“Hey, hey, what’s going on?” Rob interjected.

“I have no idea?” you lied.

“Michelle?” Rob turned to her.

“She- she- she showed me the middle finger!” Michelle fumed.

“What?” Robert asked, “No way. That’s not something she would do. Would you?”

He turned to you.

You wondered if his parents were part of this human trafficking ring. You wondered if Michelle’s parents were.

“Of course not!” you defended yourself, “That would be unbecoming of me!”

“Michelle, it’s not nice to make up stories,” Rob rolled his eyes.

Rob’s father was the CEO of Gotham’s number one cybersecurity company, his mother inherited generations worth of wealth. Her lineage meant that she had an iron grip on Gotham and was often Bruce’s rival when it came to influence. If she were a man and didn’t take her husband’s surname, Bruce would probably have lost to her on countless occasions. The possibility of one or both of them secretly running an organized crime was high.

“I’m not!” Michelle snapped, “I’m telling the truth.”

Michelle’s mother was Gotham’s famous socialite in the 80s, her father a nobleman from England. Both very rich, but Mrs. Myers was new rich, and Mr. Myers wasn’t born and raised in Gotham. The chances were there, but probably not as high.

“Even if you were, and she did show you the middle finger, what’s the big deal? Stop being so uptight, Michelle,” Rob scolded her.

Michelle looked like she was about to pop a vein in her temple.

“Thanks Rob,” you said, “But really, it’s okay. I think Michelle might have made an honest mistake, that’s all. I’m sorry too, Michelle. Maybe I was brushing my hair aside and might have accidentally made a vulgar gesture.”

“There,” Rob smiled warmly at you, “Just a mistake. You going back now?”

“Yes, I think Alfred should be here already,” you nodded, “I’ll see you guys next week?”

“Good luck studying!” Rob wished you, “Though mocks would probably be a breeze for you.”

“I doubt it, but thank you Rob,” you made your way to leave. You turned your head to Michelle and gave her a knowing wink you knew would make her lose her mind, and walked away.

“Dick?” you called out to your older brother, who was attracting a lot of attention on the sidewalk. He had parallel parked his car on the side, and was leaning against it with his sunglasses on. He waved at you once he saw you approach him.

“What are you doing here?” you asked.

“Picking you up,” he shrugged.

“Where’s Alfred?”

“Home,” he simply said.

“And why did you come to pick me up?”

“Because why not?” he grinned, opening the passenger door for you to enter.

You narrowed your eyes at him and entered the car.

Dick had always made you feel comfortable, and you naturally felt at ease when you were with him, but lately, it was different.

You felt stiff, alert, and on guard when Dick was around because it felt like he was just waiting silently for you to fuck up, to let something slip. You hated it.

You hated how your family felt so far away from you because you had betrayed them.

“Hey, Dick?” you asked after five minutes of unusual silence.

“What’s up?”

“What does Bruce do when he’s on patrol alone?” you brought up.

Did Dick know about this elite pedophile ring? Was Dick keeping secrets from you as well?

“He patrols, I guess?” Dick answered.

“No, I meant during the nights when he tells me that he doesn’t need me around,” you explained, “What does he do then?”

You saw Dick frown.

“I don’t know,” he stated.

“Did he ever do that to you? Tell you he doesn’t need you and go off alone?” you probed.

“All the time,” he sighed.

“And you never found out what he was doing?”

“I- well- look, what’s this about?” Dick turned the question back at you, “Did something happen? Did you find something?”

“What am I supposed to find?” you interrogated.

“I don’t know!” he answered exasperatedly, “Sure, I wondered a lot back then, but that’s- that’s just how he is! He keeps secrets and leaves us out of a lot of things. Like Jason being alive for fuck’s sake. If he can keep something like that a secret for so long, God knows what he’s up to when he’s alone.”

“Didn’t you ever stop to question it?” you argued.

“Didn’t you?” Dick retaliated, “All these years as Robin, why are you only bringing this up now?”

You fell silent.

“Did something happen?” he repeated again.

“Nothing happened,” you insisted, looking at the cars zooming by outside the passenger window.

Silence again. And then-

“Jason used to question it all the time,” Dick sighed, calming down. “Even followed Bruce out. That was hilarious. Imaging trying to tail Batman.”

“He asked the right questions, then,” you grumbled.

“He did,” Dick admitted, “Didn’t get him anywhere, though.”

“Except six feet under,” you muttered bitterly.

Dick never replied to that.

***

“We still don’t know her identity, she pops in and out seemingly randomly, has mediocre tech, mediocre skills… I don’t know, Bruce. What kind of purpose does Jason have for her?” Dick stated.

You tried not to clench your jaw upon hearing that.

The three of you were in the Cave, discussing your next step for tracking Red Hood down. Bruce had suggested going after V instead and hoped that she would lead you to him. You were treading dangerous waters, and remained silent most of the time.

“The fact that she has still remained elusive shows some form of skill,” Bruce argued.

It was hard not to defend your alter-alter-ego. But, you were relieved. You had tried your best to ensure they wouldn’t suspect you, even changing your fighting style to something you weren’t too familiar with.

“Still doesn’t explain why she’s with him,” Dick shrugged, “Nothing on the traffic cams?”

Your heart skipped a beat.

You had also made sure to avoid all cameras, even parking and changing blocks away before meeting with Jason. Jason, on the other hand, drove the same fucking car, or the same fucking bike, though he frequently changed plate numbers.

Still, this was Batman and Nightwing you were talking about.

“Only one thing,” Batman replied, before pulling up a security camera footage.

Fuck.

“This was taken along Jackson Avenue in Old Gotham,” Bruce continued and played the footage.

It showed a very low quality pixelated video of you wearing a black hoodie and a black cap covering your head. You had a surgical mask on to blend in better with the crowd instead of a black mask that would automatically made you suspicious. Your face was unidentifiable.

You walked into an alleyway and never came back out.

“How are you sure this is her?” Dick asked, “She wasn’t seen in Old Gotham.”

“Height and body type are a match,” Bruce justified, “That backpack could be carrying her weapons and clothes.”

You hid that backpack in an unused dumbwaiter of a guestroom all the way on the other wing of the manor that Alfred did not bother to dust.

“Or it could be carrying textbooks,” Dick scoffed.

“There is also this-”

Bruce pulled up another traffic footage. It was of you in the same clothes, with Jason next to you on a nearly empty sidewalk with shops already closed. Jason was also wearing a hoodie that covered his head, and the camera was far away. The two of you were walking away from the camera.

“This was three hours later on Schnappe Avenue, three blocks away from Caprice, where they were last seen together a week ago.”

You had followed Jason to Caprice, a bar that hosted many criminals, and was owned by the Italian mob. Red Who was simply there to take his profits and ask a few questions regarding their connections to certain politicians in Gotham.

Rendezvous with Jason was complicated, as you both had to protect your identities. You would leave the manor two hours early, park somewhere very far away, then walk or take a taxi to a location maybe 3 kilometres away from where you would meet Jason, duck into a dark alley to change into your gear, and then grappled to where Jason parked. From there, the two of you would grapple to your location. Once you were done, you would go to his car where you stashed your bag. You would then reverse your steps and go home.

That night however, Jason, the fucking dickhead, got hungry and insisted that you followed him to a diner, which was why the both of you were in casual clothes walking together in the streets. Good thing that by fucking sheer luck, no security cameras picked you up at the restaurant.

“There were no cameras to follow them after that,” Bruce grit, “They must have strategically chosen the route.”

No, Jason was just hungry.

Dick remained silent, so you turned to look at him. You frowned at his expression. Dick’s eyes were glassy and soft.

“Is- is that really him?” he whispered.

“High possibility. It’s too coincidental to dismiss.”

“Wow,” Dick breathed, “He looks- he looks different.”

Ah, it was Dick’s first time seeing new Jason without his helmet on.

“Yes,” Bruce nodded stiffly.

“How different?” you spoke up for the first time.

You were curious.

“Well, he’s much bigger,” Dick chuckled, “And taller. Good for him. He always complained about his height. Used to bet with me that he’d grow taller. Can’t see his face, though. He used to whine about how I was stealing all the girls too. Pretty sure he had a crush on Barbara.”

Dick gave a sad smile, and you saw Bruce had turned to face away.

“Anyway,” Dick cleared his throat, “How do you suggest we go about this V girl?”

“Uh,” you started, “Why not interrogate the guy they were meeting?”

Fat chance Elio Bianchi would spill anything with what Red Hood threatened him with.

“Already did last week,” Bruce answered.

You didn’t patrol last week. Bruce suddenly extended your “grounding”, but you suspected that he wanted to keep you away from Jason.

“And?”

“Refuses to speak. Red Hood must have something on him.”

Yes, the age, location, and photos of all three of his daughters.

“So what next?” you wondered.

“We wait for his next move,” Bruce sighed, “He doesn’t seem to be doing anything too rash lately since making Elena Ciobanu shoot Victor Ibenescu. He is waiting for something.”

“Or maybe he’s finally got control?” you suggested, “Over everyone? I mean- the reason why he did all those violent things were all gang-related, wasn’t it? Maybe now he’s made his point, so everyone is following his rules?”

“Maybe,” Bruce hummed, “But this wasn’t about taking control. Now we know who he is and what his motives are.”

“He did kidnap you,” Dick added, “It’s more likely that he’s planning to do something like that again.”

“Which is why,” Bruce continued, “I don’t think you should be out with us for now.”

“Oh, come on, Bruce,” you complained, “You already grounded me for an extra week!”

“It’s not about punishment. It’s about keeping you safe.”

“I wasn’t even in uniform the last time he kidnapped me!” you debated, “I’m the safest with you.”

“In the event that we do find him, I would need to talk to him,” Bruce insisted, “Having you there might trigger something in him. It’s best if you stayed away.”

“Dick!” you turned to your older brother for help.

“Sorry kid, but I’m with him on this one,” he gave you an apologetic look.

“He could kidnap me in the middle of the day!” you ranted, “He could blow up the school, the train, hell, even the library again!”

Both Dick and Bruce frowned.

“Again?” Dick repeated.

Fuck.

Fuck.

“Yeah, I already lost one library, he could very well just find out where I am and blow it up or something,” you covered.

Bruce remained silent, just looking at you with intensity. You tried your absolute best not to recoil, not to give away that your heart was beating so violently against your chest that you could hear it in your ears.

“How important is your exam?” Bruce spoke.

“It’s my mocks, Bruce,” you grumbled, “Scholarships are waiting for mocks results. I’m not letting a delusional psycho with daddy issues get in the way of my future, no matter who he is.”

You intentionally aimed those words at the both of them. Jason was Bruce’s son, and Dick’s brother, and you wanted them to feel it.

“Then you’re only to go to and from school,” Bruce directed, “No staying back, either, and Alfred will wait outside the whole time.”

“Seriously?” you pinched the bridge of your nose, “Fine! Fine. I just- I just wanted to test myself. Whatever.”

“Test yourself?” Dick asked.

You looked at Dick straight in the eye and said, “I wanted to see if I could face him after he kidnapped and sexually assaulted me.”

With that, you stormed off after manipulating the people closest to you to make sure you throw them off of any suspicions of you.

You locked yourself in your room and collapsed on the bed with a frustrated huff. You took out your phone to send Jason a text.

You: What are you doing tonight?

Five minutes later, your phone dinged.

Sexy Hunk From Library: Usual. You coming? You: You have any leads? Sexy Hunk From Library: Possibly.

You stared at your phone, assessing the risks if you were to go out with him that night. Then, your phone dinged again.

Sexy Hunk From Library: Kill time with me?

The corners of your lips twitched upwards.

You: Miss me that much?

You saw that he was typing, then stopped, then typed again. Until finally-

Sexy Hunk From Library: Are you coming or not?

It was funny how you could still chuckle to yourself despite how fucked you were. You were fucked because you betrayed your family, you were fucked because your family was suspicious of you, and you were fucked because for the past couple weeks of occasionally seeing and texting him, you realised that you had begun to like him more and more.

The dangerous and violent parts of him still made you wary, but despite all that, you couldn’t help but want to be by his side. It confused the hell out of you, because sometimes he didn’t act like how you would expect him to act at all.

Sometimes he was actually nice.

For instance, he had treated you to that burger when he insisted that you went with him to the diner.

Or the time when he argued with you over pineapple on pizza, as if you were friends who didn’t hate each other.

And even when you almost got punched in the face by a massive brute who had been dealing to kids. The punch never landed because Red Hood stopped him, beat him half to death, and then shot him in the kneecaps, before turning to you and asking if you were okay.

You thought that was sort of nice of him.

Fuck, you wanted to see him.

You texted him back.

You: Time and location?

***

Jason waited impatiently for you to arrive.

He was tapping his fingers rapidly against the steering wheel. Somehow he felt like he was going to be sick.

Despite the gentle drizzle that fell against the glass windows and the cold wind blowing outside, Jason felt hot and stuffy.

He looked at his reflection in the rear view mirror, coming into contact with his tired, sunken, blue eyes. He tried to fix his hair, combing it to the side with his fingers then groaning before ruffling it up again.

Fuck, what was he doing?

He spent the next minute trying and failing to fix his hair, that he didn’t notice you approached the vehicle until your rapped your knuckles against the window. He jumped at the sudden sound, earning a raised eyebrow from you. He unlocked the door and you climbed inside.

“You’re late,” he grumbled, aware of his hoarse voice. It was the first time he had spoken to anyone in two days.

“Only by five minutes,” you pouted.

“Late is late,” he snapped.

“You’re okay with killing people, but will bitch if I’m slightly late?” you scoffed.

“Just be on time next time,” he grit.

“Fine, I’m sorry I’m late,” you rolled your eyes. “Now can we get to it?”

Jason gave you a glare, his jaw clenching in frustration. He took a few moments to calm down.

“You know Maria and Joseph Powers?”

“Of the Powers Group?” you frowned, “Powers Hotel? Sure, I know them.”

“I have reason to believe that they’re one of the people involved in this child trafficking business,” Jason revealed.

“W-what?” you gasped, “Do you have evidence?”

“Some,” Jason replied, “They’ve been investigated before. I guess Batman played a part in that, but everything seems to have been dropped. Document trails, eye witness statements, physical evidence- all disappeared.”

He saw that you were struggling to keep up, mouth gaping and eyes wide.

“What’s wrong?” he frowned, “Get a hold of yourself.”

“Bruce knew?” you whispered.

“What doesn’t he know?” Jason scoffed.

“I sat on the same fucking table as them last Christmas ball,” you growled, “I went to their kid’s fifth birthday party. Bruce shook hands and smiled at them and then invited them over for drinks.”

Jason resisted a smirk. He finally got you to understand. Your arms were crossed, and your face in a scowl, obviously pissed.

Bruce probably did all of that to keep them close so he could keep an eye on them, maybe even find some more details. But Jason wasn’t going to tell you that.

You still had a lot to learn, but Jason was willing to be the one to teach you.

“Where will he be tonight?” he asked.

“I… I’m not too sure,” you said quietly.

Jason raised an eyebrow at you.

“What’s this? He didn’t tell his beloved Robin his plans? Again?”

You remained silent, looking straight ahead.

“I was wondering about that,” he continued, “Friday night and you’re here with me instead. Something happened?”

This time, Jason waited patiently for you to respond, enjoying the way you were obviously uncomfortable with his interrogation.

“He…” you started slowly, “He won’t let me out with him.”

“You got into trouble again?” he smirked.

“No, it’s because of you,” you shot him a sharp glare.

If only looks could kill.

“He knows you have it out for me, so for my safety,” you spat, “He won’t let me out.”

Jason blinked at you once, twice, then let out a booming laugh.

“Oh, man. Oh, sweetheart,” he pretended to wipe away tears, “Look at you, all angry at me.”

He reached across towards you and booped you on the nose. You swatted his hand away violently.

Jason loved teasing you. It made his heart all warm.

You were looking away again, and had the mask covering half your face, but even in the dark alley, he could make out your long lashes, clumped together because of the rain, and the way your shiny hair framed your face, also damp.

Your smell was intoxicating, filling his car with a pleasant scent of vanilla and strawberries. The longer Jason spent time with you, the more he felt himself getting pulled deeper and deeper in-

“He’s investigating me,” you interrupted his trance. “Well, not me specifically, but V. He’s got footage of us walking to that stupid diner-”

You paused to shoot daggers at him.

“-good thing I kept the hoodie and mask on, and thank the fucking stars that there were no cameras after that leading to to the diner. We can’t be reckless like that again, Jason.”

Jason rolled his eyes at your lecture

“So now what? You gonna kill the Powers’? How did you find out about them anyway?” you asked.

“Through the Ibenescu problem,” he explained, “Whenever they trafficked girls, I’ve always found a few kids. Always not more than ten at a time. Didn’t add up. All this while I’ve made sure there were no kids involved, be it local or foreign. And after going to each and every single fucking brothel and threatening every single pimp in Gotham-”

Jaon let out a tired sigh at the memory of going all over Gotham to turn over every rock, paying and threatening people for information. He allowed sex work as long as they kept to his standards, and as long as they weren’t trafficked. He made sure all the girls were well taken care of, and he made it very clear as to what would happen to the pimps if they weren’t.

The girls all loved him.

“- no sign of kids. Which meant that Gotham was being used as a proxy and they were being transported outside of Gotham, or there were other powers at play. So I dug in deeper. Hacked into GCPD records, looked at the political scandals and allegations that got dropped and was never brought to court. The Powers and some others came up a few times, but not too heavy. Tax evasion and stuff like that. Until I hacked into the FBI.”

“The FBI?” you gasped.

He smirked to himself. You were paying careful attention. It made him feel like he was some sort of mentor.

“It’s really not that difficult when you know people,” he scoffed, “Anyway, the Powers’ were originally under investigation for money laundering because the Powers’ Group Executive Accountant, who mysteriously died of a suicide, reported large sums of money that didn’t belong there. Then they got an external auditor, who is also deceased, reported inconsistencies with signatures and accounts.”

Jason reached to the back seats of his car and passed you a thick file that contained the FBI investigation.

“After that, they checked emails. Nothing. Then they wiretapped them, and recorded conversations regarding child sex trafficking from all over the world, for other politicians and rich pigs in this goddamned country- whose names are redacted in the files. However, they didn’t keep the audio evidence. Everything’s been terminated.”

“Wait, this can’t be right,” you frowned, flipping through the pages. “This case is almost twenty years old and… dropped? In 2012!”

“Exactly,” Jason grit.

“How long have you been investigating this?”

“Over the last two months.”

“So you already knew the Powers’ were involved,” you looked at him in suspicion, “Why haven’t you killed them yet?”

Ah, you caught on quick. Not bad.

“Because of tonight, sweetheart,” he answered, “I wiretapped them myself. There’s a shipment tonight, and one of the Powers’ need to confirm it half an hour before docking, or else they won’t dock, and it’ll be a bitch to track down again.”

“Then this is great,” your eyes widen, “We catch them red handed at the docks, take photos, spread them online, make it go viral. They won’t be able to cover it up when there’s a public outcry.”

Jason started chuckling.

“What?” you demanded.

“Look through the files. Do you see any pictures? Videos?”

You frowned.

“Do you really think they would be stupid enough to physically be there, where the authorities can, and I quote, catch them red handed?”

You shook your head slowly.

“Even if they were there, pictures can be easily faked these days. Hell, even videos. Audios, easiest of the two. They would just claim that someone was slandering them, then move on. If the feds don’t want to charge them, do you really think the cops could? And what happens if they were brought to court anyway? They can easily pay off judges and jurors.”

Jason liked this. Educating you.

Just face it, baby girl,” he added, “The system is fucked. Batman’s been trying for over a decade, and the Powers’ are still having Christmas balls.”

You let out a sad sigh.

“Let’s just get to the docks, then.”

Jason put on his mask and helmet, and drove away.

***

You were sick and tired of Dixon Docks, but criminals just couldn’t stop choosing that location for smuggling. There was also Port Adams, but the port was located near Blackgate Isle, so the marine security was tighter.

Any normal city, a place like Dixon Docks would have much tighter security after countless cases of illegal smuggling, but this was Gotham.

The security that GCPD put out on patrol with what little resources they could spare were easily bribed. The dock security company themselves were probably owned and bought over by a crime lord, not unlike the one beside you right now.

“They’re here,” Jason pointed out. The both of you were on the rooftop of a warehouse on the docks.

You squinted in the distance and saw a ship coming nearer. You missed Batman’s tech whenever you went out with Jason. Your lack of state of the art domino mask made it harder to see faraway objects and in the dark.

The docks were quiet, except for the sound of the water currents and sea breeze, and the twenty or so hired guns grumbling about the weather. You theorized that this operation was usually similar in the past, where it went smoothly without much obstacles, judging from the lack of hired security. Jason also mentioned that the kids were usually brought in along with older trafficked victims from other operations to help cover up, but since his harsh crackdown on human trafficking, they were forced to operate alone.

You waited until the industrial ship dock amongst the other unoccupied ships, and then heard some voices yelling in the distance. From the ship came out 4 girls and 3 boys in tattered clothes, malnourished and with frightful eyes. Their ages ranged from about 12-15 years old.

Accompanying them were three armed men, shoving the children to walk faster. Your blood started boiling at the sight.

“This should be easy,”Jason stretched, getting ready to make a move.

“We shouldn’t underestimate them,” you advised, “We should think of a strategy to-”

Jason leapt from the age of the rooftop without warning.

“Wait! Red Hood! Fuck!” you whispered angrily, and followed suit.

Red Hood ran ahead of you with inhuman speed towards the children, guns out and firing at the men.

You heard the children scream, the men shouting, and more guns firing.

It all happened so fast, that by the time you reached there, Red Hood was standing tall and proud over more than a dozen dead bodies.

“What the fuck?!” you shoved Red Hood as hard as you could. He didn’t budge. “Are you fucking crazy?”

“What?”

“You opened fire when there are children right in the middle of everything!” you yelled.

“I’ve got an excellent aim and I caught them off guard,” he defended, “They couldn’t even respond on time.”

“The kids could have caught a stray bullet, you fucking dickhead!” you shoved him again.

This time, he growled at you and gripped your wrists tight, pulling you harshly to him.

“If you do that again, I’ll make sure you regret it,” he threatened you with a low voice that sounded even more hostile through the voice scrambler.

You wanted to say more, but then you heard a cry from one of the children. You wrenched your hand away from his grip and walked towards them.

They were kneeling on the ground, gripping each other tight by the clothes and arms. They were Asian. You guessed maybe South or South East.

“Hey,” you gently called out, slowly kneeling to their level. They recoiled at your approach.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you,” you said, putting your arms up in surrender to convince them. “See? No guns.”

Their expressions didn’t change. You were just another threat to them.

“Don’t any of you speak English?” Red Hood grunted.

You glared at him.

“What? It’d help,” he shrugged.

“Even if they did, do you really think they’d speak to you?” you snapped.

You turned to them again, and despite the risk, pulled down your mask and hoped that there weren’t any cameras nearby.

“Hey, we’re here to help okay?” you maintained a slow, low voice.

Two girls then looked at each other, and one of them spoke up.

“I- I can speak English,” she said in a shaky voice.

“That’s great,” you smiled sweetly, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Magdeline,” she whispered.

“Nice to meet you, Magdeline. I’m V,” you pointed at Jason, “And that grumpy tomato head there is Red Hood.”

You saw Magdeline and two others share a smile. They must have understood you.

“We’re not going to hurt you, okay? We just want to help.”

“Are you going to take us home?” another girl squeaked.

“No,” you winced, “But, we’re going to take you to the police, and they will help, okay?”

They nodded, wiping tears from their eyes.

“So what we’re going to do is that we’re going to call-”

You stopped mid sentence.

Suddenly, you felt a chill down your spine, as if someone dropped an ice cube down your shirt. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, and you hurriedly put on your mask again.

“What’s wrong?” Red Hood sensed. You stood up straight, your heart beating fast.

“We need to go,” you told him, hearing the blood rush to your ears, your eyes darting quick to every shadow, to detect any movements from the darkness.

“What?”

“He’s here,” you whispered.

Red Hood looked at you for a moment, and then-

“Fuck. Come on.”

“Please don’t leave us,” Magdeline fisted your clothes, “Please.”

She looked like she was going to cry again.

“It’s okay,” you told her, “Someone’s here to help you.”

“No! Please! I want you!” she wailed.

“Shh,” you tried to calm her down.

“V, we don’t have time,” Red Hood growled.

“He’s a hero,” you ignored him, “He may look big and scary at first, but he’s a hero, okay? I promise.”

She continued to wail. You forced her off you and stepped back.

At the corner of your eye, you saw a shadow in the sky, and felt your heart drop to your stomach.

So this is what it felt like to be hunted by Batman.

“Come on,” you told Red Hood, and the two of you ran in the direction of Jason’s car, swerving between shipment containers for more cover.

Then, in the distance, you heard a loud familiar boom.

“JASON!”

The man in question who was running ahead of you started chuckling, then raided two middle fingers up in the air.

You looked behind you, but Batman was nowhere to be seen. Not in the sky, not on the roofs, not on the shipment containers, not even in the shadows.

Perhaps he saw the children and stopped-

You ran into Red Hood’s hard back. He had come to a sudden stop.

Fuck.

You peeked from behind him, and was relieved when you only saw Nightwing standing about ten feet away from you.

“Jason,” he called out, “Hey, buddy.”

“Quit your Golden Boy act, Grayson,” Red Hood snarled, “You’re almost as guilty as he is.”

He took out a handgun and aimed it at Nightwing.

“Come on, Jay,” Nightwing tried, “You’re not gonna shoot me.”

“You wanna bet?” he growled and cocked it.

You remained behind Jason for cover in fear of being recognized. Half your face was covered and you were wearing contact lenses that hid your true eye color, but you couldn’t be too careful.

“Who’s your friend, Jason?” you felt Dick’s eyes on you, “We can helo her too.”

Jason responded with a dark chuckle.

“Hey, sweetheart, what’s your name?” Nightwing stepped closer in your direction.

“Stay the fuck away from her,” Jason fumed.

Dick stopped in his tracks and raised his arms back up in surrender.

“Okay,” he nodded slowly, “It’s fine. Let’s just talk.”

***

Jason felt a punch in his gut when he saw his older brother appear in front of him.

Grayson had aged slightly, his hair longer, face more defined. It was guilt that Jason was feeling. Grayson had always been there for him. Training him, teaching him, giving him advise on girls and on being a teen.

Yet, even at that time, he had felt immense anger towards him, jealous that he was constantly in Grayson’s shadow no matter how hard he tried to be his own man.

And now? Grayson didn’t do jackshit to Joker either, the person who took the life of his supposed younger brother whom he said he always loved and cared for. No, Grayson was the same as everyone else.

Once Jason was out of the picture, they all gladly moved on and replaced him with you.

So fuck talking.

“No,” Jason tried as hard as he could to not let the tightness he felt in his chest affect him. “Move. I won’t repeat it again.”

“We miss you, Jason,” Dick pleaded, “You have no idea how happy I was when I found out you were alive.”

His throat was constricting, his breath shallow. No, Grayson was lying.

“Alfred spent the whole night crying,” Dick chuckled.

Stop it. Don’t talk about Alfred.

He felt his eyes stinging with tears.

“He was saying that he couldn’t wait to make your favourite-”

BANG!

“Fuck!” Dick screamed out in pain, collapsing to his knees and clutching his left thigh.

Jason heard you gasp behind him, and he grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you to run with him to his car.

“You shot him,” you quietly whispered.

Jason was speeding away, the docks long behind him.

“He’s had a lot worse,” he grunted at you.

“You didn’t have to shoot him.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he snapped, “Would you rather he caught the both of us? Unveil your identity? Show him how you were with me all along?”

“We could have taken him down together,” you muttered.

Jason let out a bark of laughter.

“You’re fucking stupid if you think the both of us can take down Grayson with just hand-to-hand,” he sneered, “Even if we could, let’s waste time and wait for Batman to catch up, right? Was that what you wanted?”

You remained silent.

“Didn’t think so.”

Jason gripped the steering wheel tight while he drove to the rendezvous point, selected carefully based on the absence of cameras in the area.

“I need to get back quick before they do,” you spoke up, “With Dick injured, they’re probably rushing back as well.”

“How do you plan on sneaking back in?” Jason asked out of curiosity.

“I deactivated the motion sensors.”

Jason frowned. Interesting.

“And I rented a motorbike a while back specifically for this. I park it outside the gate, hide it in some bushes so I don’t need to make noise opening and closing the gates every time I go in or out,” you explained, “I either play music in my room or play recorded noises of me doing things.”

“You’ve truly mastered the art of sneaking out now,” Jason teased, a small hint of pride swelling in his chest.

He made a turn into the same alleyway as before and switched off his engine.

“I need to go,” you moved to leave.

Without thinking, as if on reflex, Jason reached out and grabbed you by the wrists. You looked at him in question, an eyebrow raised, waiting for him to say something.

Jason looked back at you, the nauseous feeling returning again.

“Nothing,” he let go of you, “Sorry.”

You hesitated, as if you wanted to say something. In the end you nodded stiffly and left.

Jason took off his helmet and let out the breath he didn’t realise he was holding. He leaned forward to rest his forehead on the steering wheel, coming to terms with the realisation that the nausea he felt was actually butterflies.

***

You tripped over your chair as you were climbing into your room from the window, causing some things on your desk to fall to the floor with a loud thud.

“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself.

You hurriedly took off your shoes and changed into your pyjamas, kicking the backpack full of your gear under your bed to be hidden in your secret place later. You ruffled your hair and then looked into your mirror, realising that you hadn’t taken off your contact lenses yet.

You heard footsteps approaching.

“Fuck, fuck, ow!” you accidentally poked yourself in the eye.

The moment you put in the last contact lens in its case, you heard a knock on your door.

“It’s me.”

You took a deep breath to calm yourself down, then went to open the door.

“Yeah?”

Bruce looked at you with serious, tired eyes, still in his Batsuit sans the cowl.

“Dick got shot,” he stated.

“W-what?” you widened your eyes in shock, just as practiced. “Is he okay?”

You rushed out the room and hurried to the Manor’s infirmary where all of you went if there was a serious accident besides scrapes and cuts. Rushing out in panic would cover any body language that could reveal anything.

“He’s fine,” Bruce followed you from behind, “Lost a bit of blood, that’s all.”

You opened the doors to the infirmary to see Dick in a t-shirt and boxers on a bed, hooked to an IV bag. His left thigh was already bandaged. Alfred was adjusting the flow of the IV.

“Dick!” you rushed to his side, “What happened?”

“I’m fine,” he rolled his eyes, “I’ve had worse.”

“What happened?” you repeated, sitting on the side of the bed.

Dick exchanged a look with Bruce.

“We were patrolling near the docks, then we heard gunshots,” Dick explained, “Turns out it was… Red Hood.”

“He… shot you?” you whispered.

“Yeah,” he groaned, “I really didn’t think he would.”

“You have to stop thinking that this is the Jason you used to know,” you scolded, and then turned to Bruce with angry eyes, “Both of you. Don’t you think your judgement’s been clouded? That’s why it’s better if I’m with you. I never knew him, I’d be more objective and-”

“No,” Bruce said sternly, “End of discussion.”

You scowled. “What was he doing there anyway?”

Dick glanced at Bruce again.

“Weapons exchange,” Bruce answered, “He was hijacking a weapons exchange.”

If you weren’t there, you would have believed Bruce without a doubt. You clenched your jaw, making sure you don’t reveal anything.

“Why did he shoot at you?” you turned to Dick.

“He was probably being protective,” he said.

“Protective?”

“Yeah, the girl was there,” Dick recounted, “You should have seen him with her. It was like he was protecting her from me. His body language, stance and everything made it seem like she was precious cargo.”

You frowned.

“If I had to guess, she’s probably someone he cares about,” Dick smiled softly. “I’m sort of happy, you know?”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s… going through a lot,” Dick went on, “I’m glad there’s someone with him.”

Your mouth was dry. You turned and saw that Bruce was long gone.

“You don’t think she’s his prisoner or something?” you tried, “Maybe she’s being blackmailed or forced into staying with him.”

“No, I don’t think so,” he shook his head, “She looked like she was depending on him to protect her.”

Your left eye twitched in annoyance.

“Really,” you grit.

“Yeah, I mean,” Dick elaborated, “She looked scared. I guess I can’t blame her. It’s Batman.”

You remained silent to recollect your thoughts. Then-

“What are you going to do once you catch him?” you pursed your lips.

“Help him,” Dick replied like it was the most obvious thing.

“What if he doesn’t want help?” you pressed on, “Are you going to lock him away?”

“Only as a last resort,” Dick said, “But maybe being with family will make him see sense. Hopefully.”

“I guess you and Batman defy your own system too, huh?” you scoffed, standing up.

“What do you mean?”

“If Red Hood wasn’t Jason,” you argued, “If he was just some random guy who wanted to take matters in his own hands using violence and murder, you and Bruce would just lock him up either in Arkham or Blackgate depending on whether or not he pleads insanity. But because you know Jason personally…”

“You’re saying we should just lock him up instead of helping?” Dick asked perplexed.

“No, I’m just saying it’s kind of hypocritical that just because you know him, you’re giving him an out that you wouldn’t give anyone else,” you shrugged.

“We don’t just know him, he’s family,” Dick reminded you, “We don’t abandon family.”

You remained silent.

“Look,” Dick sighed and looked at you sympathetically, “I know what he did to you was wrong, and trust me, Bruce will make sure he atones for that. I’m not suggesting that he automatically come back and live here, especially because, well, you won’t be okay with it. Which is fine. You don’t have to put up with him. And we’re not making up excuses for him either. Like I said, Bruce was… very upset when he found out what happened to you. And that’s putting it lightly.”

You tried not to roll your eyes. You really didn’t care much about all of that. You had since then voluntarily asked him to do more to you than just suck hickies on your neck.

“But, this isn’t Jason,” Dick went on, “I mean, yes it is, but, he’s not rational. He’s angry and lashing out, and needs help. I’m not siding with him for what he did to you and we’re not dismissing it. I just wanted you to know that.”

“Yeah, I know,” you smiled, “Get some rest. Text me if you need anything.”

At least Jason’s sense of righteousness was simple and straightforward. You harmed innocents? You get his gun. There weren’t loopholes and justifications and complicated principles.

Plain and simple eye for an eye.

You turned to leave, unsatisfied with the lies and hypocrisy.

*** From the first crack of lightning you saw in the dark sky, you should have used it as a warning to stay home that Saturday night. But somehow you couldn’t help but go out to see Jason, knowing what he was planning to do.

You could have been in your bed, studying for your mocks with a mug of warm green tea in your hands and a plate of cookies on your desk, but instead, you were clutching the leather of Red Hood’s jacket, slippery and glistening from the downpour as he zoomed on his motorbike, you seated behind him.

Unlike the Robin uniform, though it wasn’t waterproof, the clothing you wore on nights with Jason was not state of the art. At least your Robin uniform didn’t get heavy when wet, and at least it wasn’t as absorbent. The rain made the zylon even heavier, making it difficult for you to move around.

The sound of rain pounding hard on your helmet was almost as loud as the wind. Jason didn’t care that the ground was slippery, he was still going recklessly as fast as he usually would.

He made a sharp turn into a lonely, dark road, with nothing but trees surrounding it. The road was going uphill, away from the city centre. You were approaching a mansion- modern style with glass walls.

Right before the trees cleared up, Red Hood swerved the bike into the bushes without warning, and then stopped once the both of you were deep enough within the cover of the trees. He cut off the engine, and you hurriedly climbed off.

Red Hood followed suit then, and you tried your best to not let your eyes linger on the way the water trickled down his chest, past the the red bat symbol, and down again, dipping into his-

“Fucking Gotham,” he grunted, voice crackling through the scrambler.

“At least you have a jacket,” you grit, teeth clenched as to not let them clatter.

He turned to look at you for a moment, and then started removing his leather jacket.

“N-no, it’s fine,” you refused, “It’s too big and it’ll be hard for me to move in. It’ll just be a hazard.”

Inside, your heart fluttered at the rare display of kindness.

“Whatever,” he shrugged it back on. “You remember the plan?”

“Plan?” you scoffed, “You mean sneak in, look for the master bedroom, then kill the Powers’?“

“You’re not going to stop me, are you?” he came closer to you, “If you’re going to mess it up, I’d rather tie you to the tree.”

“My, Red Hood,” you smirked, knowing that he couldn’t see it underneath your mask, “I didn’t know you were so kinky.”

“I’m serious,” he growled, “If you try to stop me, I will make you pay for it.”

“Whatever, let’s just get inside,” you turned away, “I’m fucking freezing.”

It would have been tough for anyone to sneak past all the security, cameras, bypassing alarm systems and into the mansion. But you and Red Hood weren’t just anyone. Both being trained by Batman, plus whatever it was that Jason gained over the years he wasn’t with Batman, it was only trickier than average.

Once you were in, you had to admit that you always thought the Powers’ had good taste. The interior was minimalistic, with furniture that were all neutral tones that went with the glass walls and with marble tops of exquisite design placement. You glanced at the exit to the backyard, which was a glass sliding door that spanned all the way from the ceiling to the floor.

It had only been one year since you were last there for their daughter’s birthday, ignorant of what was going on.

What the hell were you doing there?

“Split up,” Red Hood whispered from behind you, “Look for the master bedroom. Let me know when you find it.”

He gripped your hand and forced an earpiece in it.

Both you and Jason went up the marble staircase and stopped at the top. The hallway stretched from one end to the other, nothing in the way but a few potted plants.

He went right, and you took it as an instruction to go left.

Fuck, what were you doing? Were you going to stop him?

But the Powers’ deserved it. There was no other way, or else Bruce would have done something already.

Still, were you just going to stand by and watch while he murdered people?

You peeked into the first room, and saw that the bed with pink sheets was occupied by a small figure, wrapped in the covers like a cute little burrito.

Carrie Powers. Sleeping soundly while her parents were about to be killed.

Oh, God.

But how could they do this? Traffick other children when they had one of their own?

“Down the hall, first door on the left,” Jason’s hushed voice appeared in your ear.

Fuck, you had to stop him.

You closed the door quietly, and went to the room Jason had mentioned. It was opened by a crack, and you pushed it softly.

The view you saw made your heart skip a beat.

Red Hood had taken off his jacket and dumped it on the white setee in the middle of the very large master bedroom. He was standing by the super king sized bed, pointing an oddly shaped dagger at Maria Powers, who was fast asleep.

The power he so obviously exerted as he was standing over her, muscles taut with anticipation, contemplating which angle was best to slit her throat- it made your breath hitch.

“What do you think, V?” he said out loud, “How should I do it?”

His voice stirred the Powers awake, but before they could react, he grabbed Maria by the neck and lifted her so she sat upright, immediately pressing the knife against her cheek.

“Any of you scream, I’ll carve a smile into her face,” Red Hood threatened.

Joseph Powers, who finally snapped out of his groggy state, scrambled to his feet.

“W-what? Who are you?” he panicked, “What do you want?”

“No sudden movements,” Red Hood ordered, “I’m thinking whether or not I should make this quick and easy, or have some fun first.”

“We have money,” Joseph started, “Please. We’ll give you anything. Just don’t hurt us.”

“Oh, it’s not money I want,” Red Hood said cooly, “No. I want names.”

“What? What names?” Joseph asked, perplexed.

“Names of every politician, judge, CEO, or beat cop who is in on this little operation of yours.”

“I- I don’t understand,” the man stammered, “I think you’ve got it all wrong. We don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh?” Jason played along, “Maybe I’ll give you a little reminder.”

Red Hood snapped his head towards you, his red helmet glowing ominously in the dark.

“Bring the girl.” Despite being soaking wet in a weather that would usually make your bones clatter, hearing Red Hood say those words in a calm voice made a chill run down your spine for the first time that night

“No,” Maria whimpered, but silenced herself when her captor tightened his grip.

“What?” you gasped.

“The kid,” he growled, “Bring her here.”

“We’re not involving the kid,” you stood your ground.

“V,” he warned, “Don’t make me repeat myself. You better-”

“Mommy?” you heard a small squeak at the door and turned to see little Carrie, with her big chocolate eyes wearing her purple butterfly print pyjamas.

“Carrie, go back to your room,” Joseph ordered, “Please. She’s innocent.”

“And the kids you have kidnapped, shipped, and raped aren’t?” Red Hood fumed.

You saw the microsecond momentary realisation in both the Powers’ eyes, before they tried to cover it up again.

“Daddy? Mommy?” Carrie called in a shaky voice, “What’s going on?”

“Go back to your room, Carrie!”

“Carrie, do you want to help mommy?” Red Hood drawled.

“Yes,” she nodded.

“Come closer, Carrie,” Red Hood persuaded.

“Red Hood,” you protested.

“If you’re not going to help, then shut the fuck up,” he snarled.

Carrie entered the room but stood quietly behind you.

Her father looked at you with desperation in his eyes, “Please help us.”

“You’re filth to me,” you snapped at him, enjoying the way he cringed.

Joseph was usually a proud man, handsome for his age, with a fit body and perfect salt and pepper hair. The man you saw then was pathetic. DIsgusting,

Filth.

“But I won’t hurt your kid,” you added.

You expected to see relief printed on his face, and clenched your jaw when you didn’t.

“I can’t promise he wouldn’t, though,” you nodded at Red Hood, feeling like shit for using his daughter as leverage, “So you’d better give us names.”

Joseph looked like his brain was about to explode, his eyes quickly darting back and forth from his wife, to his kid, to you. He was running his hands through his hair in obvious distress.

“You don’t understand,” he admitted, “If we give you names, we’re as good as dead.”

“Joseph!” Maria yelled.

She was furious at him- and you thought at first it would be because he wouldn’t compromise to save her. After observing the way he took a small step back and the way she was holding him by the eyes, you realised that she was warning him not to confess.

She was obviously the one calling the shots.

“If you don’t give us names, you’re good as dead,” Red Hood told him, “Or would you rather me convince you in other ways?”

He nodded at Carrie. You felt a little protective of her, standing up straighter to defend her from Red Hood.

Joseph and Maria ignored the threat and was looking at each other intensely, trying their best to communicate without words.

Then, Joseph calmed down. He straightened up into the proud man you always saw him to be, a smirk playing on his arrogant features.

“I’m sorry, but this is business,” he sneered, “And we swore our clients’ secrecy.”

Red Hood paused.

Then-

“We’ll see about that.”

He grabbed a fistful of Maria’s cropped blond hair and pulled her to the dressing table. You heard that Carrie had started to sob behind you.

“Put your right hand flat on the table,” he demanded.

“Red Hood-” you tried.

“Now!” he barked.

She raised her shaking hand and rested it on the table hesitantly.

The first thing you heard was Maria’s cry- muffled by Red Hood’s large gloved hand- before you registered what had happened.

In an instant, Red Hood had cut off her pinky finger, and then raised the dagger, which you now saw had a blade that was wavy from the bottom to the tip, glistening a sticky, sickly dark red.

“Mommy!” Carrie screamed.

With all the commotion, you wondered why the security still hadn’t heard you yet. Then you realised that the glass walls were probably shatter and bullet proof, making it thick enough to be almost sound proof.

That shook Joseph slightly, his smirk had been wiped off clean and his forehead had beads of sweat.

“I can do this another nine times,” Red Hood snarled.

You had to stop this before it went too far. Slowly, you approached him.

“Red Hood,” you cautioned, “Let’s continue this another time, when the kid isn’t around.”

“Stay out of my way,” he turned to you.

“Let’s think rationally here,” you went closer, trying to speak over Maria’s wails, “There’s no way we have the time to torture for information when there’s a dozen armed men outside who might notice that something is off.”

“That’s why you’re here,” he scoffed, “So you can deal with them.”

“Do you really want to deal with them in front of the girl?” you tried again, “She’s five. She shouldn’t have to go through this.”

“They were going to wait a few years before selling her off anyway,” he seethed, “I’m doing her a favor.”

“No!” Joseph denied, “Not her. Never her.”

“How sweet.” Red Hood hissed sarcastically.

“Red Hood, come on,” you persuaded, “We can pick this up again another time.”

“And what?” he yelled, “Wait for them to run to the other side of the world? Where I have to hunt them down all over again? I do not have the time or the patience to- what the fuck did you just do?!”

Red Hood shouted at Joseph, who had moved quickly to the bedside table. His eyes widened in panic, and so did yours when you saw he had pressed a button on the underside of the table.

“Fuck!” Red Hood swore, “This is your fucking fault!”

He brandished the blade at you. “Fine,” he pulled Maria up again, “Looks like playtime’s over.”

Without warning, you saw him raise the dagger to Maria’s neck, and as if in slow motion, you just looked on by as he carved a big red smile across her throat.

The next thing you felt was a gush of warmth spray all over your face and torso. The blood that had gushed out of Maria was like a pulsating fountain of red.

“Maria!” Joseph screamed, “You fucking bastard!”

Red Hood leapt across the bed and pushed the man violently against the glass wall.

“Names!” he growled, taking Joseph’s head and thrusting it against the glass, leaving a smear of dark red.

Yet you were there, just frozen and blinking on the spot as you stared at Maria’s lifeless body on the grey carpeted floor, blood still splashing from her throat in the rhythm of her slowly dying heart.

Everything was red, and smelled like metal, and tasted like metal. Ew, did some get in your mouth? But you were wearing a mask. Why was there so much of it?

Did humans have this much blood in them? It seemed endless. Are we all just bags of blood in the end?

Carrie’s wails snapped you back to reality.

You rushed to her and kneeled down.

“Hey sweetheart, listen to me,” you tried to get through to her, “You have to go hide in that closet over there, okay?”

You picked her up. She was light, her body fragile and weak, and you opened the closet to reveal a walk-in.

You set her down on the floor and tried to comfort her again, “I want you to close your eyes, and close your ears, and then sing a song, okay? Don’t stop singing until the police comes. Can you do that?”

All she did was cry.

Fuck, she wasn’t going to listen to you.

So you just closed the closet door.

Red Hood was still smashing Joseph’s head against the wall. You noticed that he was now missing an ear.

Then you heard footsteps approaching you fast. Lots of them.

You took out your escrima sticks and got ready to fight a dozen armed men while Red Hood tortured Joseph Powers for information.

***

“Did you even get any names?” you monotoned.

The both of you were at the rendezvous, with Red Hood leaning against his beautiful black superbike and you standing awkwardly, holding your arms.

The smell and sight and taste of blood still consumed you. You hoped that the rain would have washed it away, but against all your luck, the moment you escaped the mansion, the rain had stopped.

Red Hood and you left behind a crying kid in the closet, a woman with a slashed throat in a pool of her own blood, a man beaten to death so bloody that he didn’t have any recognizable human features left, five unconscious and seventeen dead men in that house.

Red Hood simply looked away from you and took off his helmet and mask. He looked clean, because even in the midst of everything, he had managed to take his jacket from the settee.

“No?” you smirked, “So all of that for nothing?”

He gave you a glare, cold blue eyes piercing yours.

“Can I just ask you one thing?” you sighed, taking off your mask as well. It was soaked in blood.

“What?”

“Were you really going to hurt the kid?”

You saw his jaw clench.

“I don’t hurt innocents,” he looked away from you again.

You felt a wave of relief alongside your nausea, but however relieved you were, it still didn’t get the image of him slitting a woman’s throat out of your head.

If the circumstances were different, maybe you would have been turned on by that, as fucked up as it was. By the power he exhibited, the precision, the danger - you knew that you had a thing for that.

But he killed her in front of her own daughter, who shouldn’t have had to see that. Hell, who shouldn’t have had to be there in the first place.

It made you question him even more than before.

“Nope, you just traumatize them for the rest of their life,” you scoffed.

In a flash, his hands were around your throat.

“Don’t fucking talk to me that way,” he growled, “I haven’t forgotten how you fucked things up for me.”

“Fucked things up for you?” you repeated.

“You distracted me,” he told you, “And that prick went and sounded the alarm.”

“Oh, I’m sorry for trying to convince you not to murder a mother in front of her daughter!”

“Sweetheart,” he said in a low voice, “You’re playing with fire.”

Jason’s pupils had started to dilate, as if it was a black hole that was eating away at the blue. Your eyes fluttered towards his lips, which were slightly parted.

And then he smirked.

“I guess I have to punish you for disobeying me,” he drawled.

You gulped loudly, trying hard to not let the warmth in your stomach spark for the man in front of you.

“You know,” he whispered, his other hand snaking around your waist and pulling you flushed against his chest, “I’ve always imagined what you would look like covered in blood.”

Oh, fuck.

So did you. You had imagined what he looked like when he was beating a person half to death, how the muscles in his back would ripple with every blow.

You were so fucked up.

“And what do you think?” you bit your lip, squeezing your thighs together.

You were just upset at him a moment ago, and now you were turned on? You pieced together that you had a dangerous coping mechanism.

The fingers that were around your throat were caressing your cheek now, his thumb brushing against your lips.

“Better than I imagined,” he grinned, dipping down to kiss you.

He pushed his wet tongue into your mouth without hesitation, fucking it while he grabbed your ass and squeezed hard, almost painfully. He would bite and nip at your lips before licking them.

“Fuuuck,” he groaned, “You taste like blood.”

You felt him grind on you, though you knew the hardness was from the protective cup he was wearing. You still couldn’t feel much either, due to the soaked body armor.

“Bend over the bike,” he commanded.

“Wait, what?” you gasped.

“You heard me.”

You felt the blood rush to your cheeks as you slowly approached the vehicle. When you were at its side, you glanced behind you. Jason had the most arrogant smirk ever while his arms were crossed.

After taking a deep breath, you tiptoed and winced in embarrassment when you positioned yourself bent over the seat, your ass jutting out.

Warm hands started rubbing your waist, going down to your ass and thighs.

“How do I take this off,” you heard him complain.

Your bottom was only latex tights.

When Jason finally figured it out, he pulled down hard, exposing your ass to the cool air.

“Fuck,” he cursed, his hand roaming to massage it.

“Jason, we’re in public,” you reminded him.

“So?” he responded, “It’s 2am, and it’s Gotham, baby. Public indecency is the least of everyone’s worries.”

You felt him shift behind you, and gasped when you felt a long, wet strip from your clitoris to your hole.

“Taste so good,” he groaned.

His tongue felt good.

He continued to tease you by licking your wet opening but never dipping inside, just making you wet with your own juices and his saliva. But suddenly you felt a sharp, piercing pain on your pussy flesh.

“Fuck!” you screamed and turned to look back at him grinning at you, “Did you just fucking bite me?”

“What did you think I was going to do when I said you needed punishment?”

“I don’t know, spank me or some shit?” you breathed, “Not fucking bite me!”

“Oh, but you would like to be spanked,” he told you, “And that wouldn’t be much of a punishment would it?”

He bit you again, but this time soothed the pain by licking you after.

Still, it didn’t stop the jolts of electricity that stung you every time he did.

“Fuck!” you gasped again, “Stop it- oh, fuck.”

He had slid a finger inside you- you noticed it was ungloved.

And then he started a barrage of confusing sensations, biting and nipping at your pussy to cause you pain, and then licking it away while pumping his finger inside of you to spark pleasure.

It didn’t take you long until you were moaning and panting and fucking sweating in the post-rain weather.

The warmth was building and building as he kept licking and biting and finger fucking you, twisting inside of you and touching your most pleasurable spots. You felt yourself start to tighten around his finger as the now familiar sensation of approaching orgasm started.

And then it was all gone.

Jason removed his finger and stopped licking. You turned around furiously to see him smirking at you with dark hooded eyes.

Oh, now you understood. The punishment wasn’t the biting at all.

He wouldn’t let you come.

You spent the next minute glaring angrily at him, refusing to say a word while he just stared back with intense eyes, breathing almost as heavily as you were.

And then he dove back in.

“Fucking hell,” you moaned as the pleasure built and built and built again.

And then stopped.

You wanted to fucking yell at him, but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction.

He continued again, this time even harder with the licks and bites, harder with the way he fucked your cunt, even inserting a second finger that drew the most vulgar sound from your lips. You felt yourself building again, but when you expected him to stop, he didn’t.

This time, he kept you going higher and higher, your knees growing weaker, until you reached and were just dangling on the edge of-

And it was all gone.

“Jason!” you yelled, “Come the fuck on!”

You heard him chuckle behind you. And then you felt him grind against your ass, rough and heavy and desperate.

Probably because he was still wearing a protective cup, which meant that he wouldn’t be able to feel much. You wanted him to take his cock out already, so he could start fucking you senseless as you were bent over his bike.

But then, he stopped. And he pulled up your pants to cover you up, even giving you a small smack on the butt.

“What?” you straightened and turned around.

“What?” he pretended to be clueless, even though you saw the obvious lust that was etched on his handsome yet tired face.

“You- I- why don’t- fuck!” you stuttered, squeezing your thighs together. You were so wet that you felt yourself soaking through the tights despite it already being wet from the earlier rain.

“Oh, did you want to come?” he asked innocently, “Sorry, but girls who disobey my orders don’t get what they want.”

“You’re torturing yourself as well,” you grit, and to prove a point grabbed his crotch, earning yourself a hiss from him.

He grabbed your wrists to pull you closer, “We’re in public. Remember?”

Then he took a step back and gave you a shit eating grin.

“Whatever,” you sighed frustratedly, “I’m fucking covered in blood anyway. Fuck, I need to get PEP tomorrow. You should, too.”

“What?” he frowned.

“Post-exposure prophylaxis,” you explained, “We’re covered in blood, Jason, ever heard of HIV?”

He blinked once at you, and then broke into a fit of laughter.

“It’s not funny!” you defended, “It’s just for a just in case!”

“I’m pretty sure Maria fucking Powers does not have HIV,” he teased.

The mention of Maria brought the image to your mind again. The Jason in front of you had a twinkle in his eye, his expression soft after laughing at your logic. It was hard to imagine that under an hour ago, he had slit a woman’s throat.

In front of her own daughter.

Jason must have noticed your expression change, because he became serious again.

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly, concern in his eyes as he held you by the waist.

Was he actually concerned? Or was he still playing mind games with you?

Why would anyone want a dirty whore like you?

And, there it was. Mother was back again.

“Nothing,” you looked away. “I just need to get all this blood off me.”

“We’re done here,” Jason informed you, “You can go back any time.”

“Well,” you started hesitantly, “I don’t think I can go back like this. All this blood- it’s too hard to cover up. My clothes, my shoes, everything is just covered in blood. Why is there so much fucking blood-”

“Hey, hey,” he stopped you, “Calm down. It’s fine. You can come back with me.”

“W-what?” you looked up at him. He seemed so genuine. Was it a trap?

He must have noticed as well, because his face immediately turned into a scowl, “I trust that you won’t tell Batman. After tonight, you’d be fucked along with me if it ever got to him. Take it or leave it, I’m not offering again.”

He let go of you and climbed on his bike, turning on the engine.

He looked back at you, who was still stunned on the spot.

“You coming or what?”

Oh, you were so fucked.

***

Your jaw dropped when you saw the interior of his safe house.

From the outside, it looked just like an abandoned shipment container amongst many other abandoned shipment containers in an abandoned shipping dock. You had expected it to be just a mattress, some pillows, with his weapons dumped messily on the floor.

No, his safe house looked like an actual safe house.

His bed was an actual Queen sized bed with matching bed sheets and pillowcases. His weapons were arranged in a glass cabinet display neatly against the freshly painted cream colored walls- the walls weren’t even the tin walls of the shipment container. He must have added another layer of plywood, with some sort of insulator in between which kept the room warm.

You noticed a beautiful katana resting on its stand. He had a wooden dining table with a fucking oriental tea set on it.

“The shower’s through there,” he pointed at the far corner of the room, which was separated by a wall. “Take off your clothes and just dump it in front of the washing machine.”

A fucking washing machine.

You nodded silently and followed his directions, turning into the corner. His bathroom was simple, yet still elegantly placed with tile flooring.

He had the time to put fucking tiles in his fucking toilet.

The white porcelain of his toilet and sink shined brightly in the warm lights of the bathroom. Next to the toilet was the shower, the segment separated by a curtain. The only thing that was out of placed in his entire makeshift home was the mirror over the sink.

It was cracked. You only saw glimpses of yourself in the pieces that were big enough to catch your reflection- a pair of tired eyes and skin that was covered in dried blood that had long ago oxidized and turned dark brown.

You stripped off your clothes, struggling to peel them off your skin, and then dumped them on the floor in front of the washing machine and stepped into the shower.

You turned it on.

The bastard even had hot running water.

You moaned at the relief and looked down on the floor, watching as the water turned brown, washing away the blood and sweat and filth on your skin. You reached for his shampoo and couldn’t help but giggle at his choice.

It was pomegranate scented with red packaging and labelled Long Term Relationship.

Well, it smelled divine. He had great taste in scents.

Look at you. So desperate to smell like him. Pathetic.

“Him and hundreds of other women, probably,” you muttered.

Once you were done, you stepped on the floor mat and saw a neatly folded towel and clothes on top of the toilet seat. You dried yourself off and put on his t-shirt.

It was too big on you, the sleeves went down to your elbows and the hem went down to your mid-thighs. You saw that he also set aside a pair of shorts, but there was no way you were going to be able to wear that without them sliding down.

You breathed in.

The combination of the shampoo, and the smell of his t-shirt made you smile. It was familiar, but you never really noticed it besides the fabric softener.

Yet, it was unmistakably him. Now all you needed to do was rub gun-powder all over yourself and voila.

You stepped outside to see he had shrugged off his jacket, and was sitting at the dining table, wiping his helmet down with hand sanitizer.

“Shower’s free,” you approached him, passing him your wet towel and his shorts, “Thanks for the shirt, but the shorts are too big.”

His jaw clenched when he looked up at you. You saw the way his eyes darted from your own and down to your body.

He snatched the items from your hand and got up. “Don’t touch anything.”

You heard the shower turn on.

And then you were alone, standing awkwardly in the middle of his safe house.

Everything seemed so normal.

There weren’t many personal things lying around aside from clothes and a few books that he had arranged on a bookshelf, but it didn’t scream ‘Go away’ or ‘Psychopath’. It was simple, homey, warm.

Until you noticed a pinboard that hung in front of his bed.

The nearer you got, you saw familiar faces. Mainly yours.

A blurred photo of you as Robin with Batman. A few articles regarding Batman handing Joker over to the authorities, a couple about Bruce Wayne adopting you following your parents’ deaths, and photocopied police statements about the investigation of your parents.

You frowned.

You knew he had done extensive research on you, you knew that he had shimmied his way into your life and manipulated you for his gain, you knew all that. But seeing everything out in the open made your heart ache.

A whole portion of the board had many of your pictures on it, as well. Stalker photos, as you liked to call it. Zoomed in from far away, candid shots of you in your uniform, swimming, smiling and waving at your classmates, walking in the mall, studying in the library.

“Like my photography skills?”

You jumped at his voice. He was so silent whenever he approached you. You should have noticed that much earlier on.

“You’re a fucking psychopath,” you shook your head, still looking at the photos, “But I have to say, I didn’t know I looked this good in my uniform.”

“Oh, baby girl, if only you knew,” he chuckled.

“Please, I-”

You finally turned and choked on whatever words you were going to say.

Jason was standing at the foot of his bed behind you with only a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair wet and dripping droplets of water down onto his bare chest, his arms crossed and accentuating even more the size of his biceps. He looked so clean.

So normal.

Well, his hotness was hardly normal, but he didn’t seem like some trigger happy crime lord.

He raised a knowing eyebrow at your expression. You didn’t realise your mouth was open.

“I should burn this fucking place down for what you did to my library,” you shot at him.

“It’s been months, get over it,” he rolled his eyes, and sat on the bed, back resting against propped pillows.

“Aren’t you going to get dressed?”

“Why would I? I’m in my own bed.”

You gulped.

“Bruce- Dick- Everyone-” you stammered, “They’ve probably figured out that I’m not in my room. It’s three thirty in the morning and the music is still playing loudly in my room, I mean, someone has probably knocked and didn’t get an answer so-”

“Your clothes will only be ready in two hours,” Jason interrupted you, “Or would you rather go back home in just my shirt with no bra and panties?”

“I can actually think of an excuse if I did,” you chuckled nervously, “Dick thinks I’ve been sleeping with a guy named Carter.”

“Who’s Carter?” Jason demanded, his expression changing into one that was furious.

“No one,” you quickly explained, “He saw your stupid texts, so I told him your name was Carter and that we were going out.”

He relaxed at your explanation.

Wait a minute.

Was he jealous?

You smiled to yourself, entertaining the possibility.

“And I do actually have a change of clothes in my backpack,” you said, “Which is in your bike.”

“You’re not leaving me with the laundry, princess,” he scoffed, “Stay. Once your clothes are done I’ll even fold them for you.”

“How hospitable,” you snickered.

You stood there awkwardly again, not knowing where you’d be welcomed.

“The bed won’t slit your throat, you know,” he teased, “You can lie down and sleep until you need to go.”

You pursed your lips and played with the edges of the shirt. You knew what was going to happen in that bed.

You went to the opposite side of bed and sat down nervously. You put your feet up and stretched it, just like Jason’s .

The bed was comfy, the pillows fluffy and warm. You could finally feel yourself relaxing into it-

Jason grabbed your waist and pulled you closer to him, your back flushed against his front. And finally, finally you could feel the hardness of his cock pressed against your ass.

“I’ve been hard ever since you came out of the shower,” he breathed into your ear, grinding against you.

You wanted to moan at the feeling of his heavy length on you, you wanted to grind back onto him and turn him on even more, but mother started screaming.

ARE YOU A LADY OR A WHORE?

“Shut up,” you muttered.

“What?” Jason asked.

“Nothing,” you turned to him. “Kiss me.”

He granted your request and gave you a searing kiss.

Rolling in bed with a dirty criminal.

“Shut up!” you screamed.

“What the fuck?” Jason yelled, “I didn’t say anything!” “No,” you shook your head, “Sorry. Not you. I wasn’t talking to you.”

He looked at you suspiciously.

“I- I hear my mother sometimes,” you admitted.

You waited for him to call you crazy, but he never did. Instead, he looked at you seriously.

“Tell me more.”

“Not physically,” you started, “But I imagine what she would have said to me if she were watching me- which is why I never kissed a boy before this. Or masturbated. She stops me from doing anything filthy.”

“Filthy?”

“By her standards,” you elaborated, “Filthy or vulgar or inappropriate, she controls my actions.”

“How long,” he asked.

“Ever since they died,” you sighed.

“But you were fine all those other times,” he inquired, “Why now?”

“It gradually became less and less frequent,” you explained, “Like, when we did those things through video call, I felt comfortable and it just- it felt right. And it stopped completely during my first time with you.”

“So you saying it doesn’t feel right, right now?” he clenched his jaw.

“It’s not you!” you added quickly, “It’s me. No matter how much I want to, I just can’t help it. She’s there.”

“Look, I get it,” he sighed, leaning onto the propped pillows, “Fuck, I get it.”

“You do?” you looked at him with hopeful eyes.

“What? You think getting beaten to a pulp with a crowbar, getting exploded, and having to crawl out of your own grave wouldn’t fuck you up?” he growled, “You’re not special. Get over it.”

Even though he said it in a way that was harsh and definitely not conventional, he basically told you what you needed to hear- that you weren’t the only one that was fucked up, and if there was any comfort at all, it’d be the fact that you were fucked up together.

You smiled when you saw him, his arms crossed, eyebrows stitched together in a frown, his lower lip jutting out in a pout.

“Well, I really wanted to,” you paused, “You know.” Jason looked over to you then. “You said she screams in your ear, right?”

“Yeah?”

He smirked, then came closer to you again, caressing your cheek and tucking a wet strand of hair behind your ear, where he leaned in to whisper.

“Then that just means we need to be louder.”

He gripped your thigh and forced your legs open, cupping your sex with his hands.

He’s defiling you.

“I hated you,” he slipped a finger between your folds and gently ran it up and down, gathering your slick, “But now I just can’t seem to keep on hating you anymore.”

Your heart fluttered at his confession.

He teased your clit, giving only light brushes on it, barely even touching you.

But everyone else will hate you.

“Talk to me, baby,” he instructed, “Tell me you don’t hate me anymore.”

“I-” you panted, “I don’t hate you anymore.”

A filthy man for a filthy girl.

“Mmm, good girl,” he purred, now adding pressure to your clit, making you squirm.

The praise did wonders to you. You felt your cheeks heating up, your heartbeat going faster and faster.

I raised you to act like a lady, not like a bitch in heat.

His other hand slipped underneath the shirt, trailing up from your waist to cup your breast and gave it a squeeze.

You moaned out loud when he started pinching them.

Vulgar sounds will only get you dirty men.

“You’re so fucking sexy, you know that,” he rasped against your skin, hot breath sending goosebumps all over. “I want you to moan for me, beg for me, scream for me.”

“Jason,” you sighed.

He started properly rubbing on your clit now, sending tingles right to your toes. “Fuck, baby. You’re so wet. It makes your pussy look so fucking pretty,” he praised.

At least prostitutes get money when they sleep with other men, and you’re doing this for free.

It was so confusing. On one hand, you had your mother’s voice ringing in your head. On the other, Jason’s dirty, sexy mouth made you think you could actually die from sheer horniness.

He finally slipped a finger inside of you, eliciting a long moan.

You’re going to be loose before you hit-

“Mmm, you like that, baby?” he husked, “You always like it when I put my finger in, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you gasped.

No one will want you after-

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded.

Ruined goods-

“Please,” you whined as you spread your legs further apart.

YOU BELONG IN THE-

“Please what, sweetheart?” he teased.

You could only mewl.

LISTEN HERE-

“Please stop?” he added a second finger, and started pumping in and out excruciatingly slow.

STOP IT-

“Please make me come?” he increased his pace.

HORRIBLE-

“Or just… please? .”

He suddenly switched into a brutally fast pace, causing you to scream.

“Jason! Fuck, Jason please just put your cock inside of me and make me come, fuck!” you begged.

He stopped finger fucking you and chuckled out loud. He was hovering over you, his towel long gone, aligning the tip of his dick at the entrance of your cunt.

“That’s my girl,” he grinned, and then pushed inside in a swift motion.

“Fuck!” you cried.

“So fucking wet for me,” he panted, pounding into you. “So tight.”

“Jason,” you could only say.

He dipped down to push his tongue into your mouth, fucking your mouth the same rhythm he was fucking your pussy. You were in a state of desperation and euphoria, hazy to reality.

The only thing you were hearing at that moment was the wet sound of flesh on flesh and Jason’s loud grunts into your mouth.

The combination of his cock repeatedly pressing onto the spot within you and his tongue in your mouth made your pussy tighten in no time, closer and closer to orgasm.

“You wanna come, baby girl?” he whispered against your lips.

You nodded hysterically.

“Come for me then, come all over my cock,” he commanded, fucking you faster.

The tight coil in your core exploded, and you felt yourself pulsating all over his length which was still moving.

Jason didn’t give you time to rest.

“Get up on your knees and face the wall,” he growled.

You immediately obeyed, afraid that he would start biting you again if you didn’t. Jason pushed aside his pillows and you placed your hands on the headboard.

He took off the oversized shirt and his hands started roaming your body from behind, squeezing your breasts, running them up and down your thighs, all the while he was kissing your back.

He pushed his cock inside you again without warning, and in the post-orgasm sensitivity, you accidentally gave out and collapsed backwards against him.

“Woah there, baby,” he laughed, gripping you tightly by the waist to stabilize you. “I want to make you come again.”

“Please,” you rasped.

“Yeah?” he started moving slowly behind you, “You want to come again, baby?”

You nodded weakly.

“Tell me, baby girl,” he nipped your earlobe, “Tell me.”

“I want you to make me come again.”

“What a fucking good girl,” he licked your ear.

You could only whimper in response.

He hammered his hips into you hard and fast, all the while gripping your tits with one hand and your waist with other, fucking himself up into you.

And because you were so sensitive from the first orgasm, the fact that he was fucking you again soon after meant that you were already fast approaching your second one.

“Hold out for me just a bit more, sweetheart,” he breathed in your neck, “Please?”

That ‘please’ sort of made your heart melt.

“Anything, Jason,” you replied, trying your best to maintain a level head while he fucked you.

“Ah. fuck, baby,” he stuttered, his hips stuttered, his pace stuttered. “Okay, come with me. Come with me, fuck, fuck.”

The heat you felt before started spreading again, and this time you allowed it and let go. You reached behind you to hold Jason’s head, running your hands in his hair and gripped on it tightly for leverage as you came loud and long.

He withdrew from you so fast that it almost hurt, but then you felt warm splashes on your lower back, dripping down to the globes of your ass and to your thighs.

Your whole body gave out, and you fell down on your front, crashing into the soft bed.

You heard Jason chuckle, and then felt him get up. He returned with his towel and wiped your back, and then joined you on the bed next to you.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Better than okay,” you smiled.

“Mother quiet?” he frowned.

“Surprisingly so,” you yawned.

“Good,” he nodded.

The two of you just stared at each other, and soon enough you got lost in his face. His tired eyes, his crooked nose, his scarred skin. He gave you an odd expression. It wasn’t anger, or hate- hell he was hardly frowning.

He just looked… content.

You guess killing someone would take the energy out of you.

***

When Jason stirred awake, the first thing he felt was the warm body next to him.

For the first time in his entire life, he didn’t wake up alone.

He blinked his eyes open, and nearly laughed out loud when he saw your face next to him. You weren’t a graceful sleeper. Your hair was messy, your mouth hanging open with a little drool on dribbling at the corner.

Yet, he couldn’t help thinking about how absolutely gorgeous you looked.

He felt his chest tighten.

He shifted to the side to look at the clock on his bedside table. It was already 6am. Your clothes were long dry already in the dryer.

“Mmm,” he heard your voice, probably waking up because of his movements.

He turned back to you and saw that you were indeed already awake, facing tummy down with his blanket covering you up to your waist so he had a view of your beautiful, smooth back.

“What time is it,” you asked, voice still heavy with sleep.

“Six,” he answered, “Your clothes are probably dry.”

“Fuck,” you swore. He loved it when you swore. “I’m going to get into so much trouble.”

“You’re a teenager with a so-called boyfriend,” he snorted, “Make something up.”

“That’s the plan,” you grinned.

You pulled the covers up to your chest and laid on your back.

“I should go,” you sighed sadly, and then sat up.

“Wait,” he grabbed your arm.

Fuck, what was he doing?

“Don’t go,” he whispered, “Stay.”

“I guess I’m already fucked anyways, right?” you smirked.

“No, I meant-” Jason paused, his words catching in his throat. “Stay with me forever. Leave them.”

He saw the many phases of your thoughts written clearly on your face. You blinked with realisation, stopped yourself from smiling, but finally settled with a deep troubled frown.

Fuck.

“I can’t,” you croaked, “I’m sorry, Jason. I can’t do that.”

He felt like taking the keris and ripping out his heart.

“Fine,” he clipped, “Whatever. You want me to send you back, or what?”

“No, it’s fine, I’ll find my way back,” you got up and walked to the dryer to change into your gear. Jason reached for the shorts that you didn’t wear.

He walked you to the door silently, awkwardly. He had given you your backpack from the compartment in his motorbike.

“Jason,” you suddenly turned to him, the frown still evidently clear, “I can’t do this anymore.”

“What?” he grit, his heart dropping to his stomach.

“This thing with you,” you explained, “I can’t see you again. The next time I see you, I’ll be on Batman’s side.”

He felt like someone was throttling him, squeezing every ounce of sanity he had left out. He felt his nails digging into his palms, fists closed, still refraining from doing something he knew he would regret.

“I’m sorry, Jason,” you said, “I won’t tell them about you. If they find you, it will be completely because of them, not me. Okay?”

He didn’t want to look at you. He didn’t want you to see through him.

“Just go,” he managed to choke.

You pursed your lips and then nodded, turning away from him.

He slammed the door shut, and then rushed to his room.

“FUCK!” he roared, grabbing the bed and flipping it over.

“FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!”

He went to the dining table and swiped the tea set off, hearing it crash into tiny pieces on his floor before proceeding to flip over the table as well.

“YOU FUCKING BITCH!” he cried, aware that his cheeks were wet with his tears.

He couldn’t breathe.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He crumpled to the floor and picked up a broken piece of china, closing his fists around it and feeling the stinging pain as it cut into his flesh.

He was losing his mind.

He didn’t know what was up, or down, or what was real or wasn’t.

He wanted it to be all just a long, shitty fucking dream.

He wanted to just wake up back in his room in the Manor, fifteen years old, with the sound of Alfred knocking on his door, asking if he was alright.

It was a different kind of pain that he felt as compared to the one Joker had inflicted on him. It was the same hurt, the same stabbing feeling in his chest when he found out that Bruce had replaced him with you.

The same feeling when he found his mother on the floor with foam in her mouth.

In the midst of pulling his hair, and contemplating on whether he should really use the keris to carve his heart out or slit his own throat, he eventually calmed down after an hour of broken sobs and choking on air.

He sat there on his floor, the blood on his hands now sticky and brown, listening to the deafening silence of his room.

He was alone again.