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mjolnir-steve · 3 years

Text

Foolish

Frank Adler x fem!Reader

Word count: 5027 (oop)

Warnings: light drinking, very brief mention of suicide, some cursing, smut (18+ ONLY!!!), unprotected sex (m/f) ... Please let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Hi, y’all! Here’s my entry for @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817’s Shameless Hoes for Chris Challenge!!!! I haven’t written smut in a LONG time, so please be gentle with me LOL. Here’s what I got:

Frank Adler

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

Breeding / mutual pining 🥴

I’d like to dedicate this to @rodrikstark for always sharing the Frank Adler feels and @sparkledfirecracker for bullying me (with love) into finishing this. ❤️

If you like this fic, please comment and reblog!!! I hope you enjoy. :)

Fridays never seemed to come soon enough. You looked forward to the beginning of the weekend as much as the next person, but over the last few months, Friday nights took on new meaning for you. You moved to the trailer park a little less than a year ago, wanting to buy a small place of your own and start making a home for yourself. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t expensive, and it was only a ten-minute drive from your office where you’d just secured a promotion. Roberta, the manager, helped you make it feel like home right away, insisting on going with you to pick out paint samples and providing copies of menus for the best take-out in the area.

Before long, Roberta introduced you to the trailer park’s resident certified genius, Mary Adler. Mary and Roberta spent Saturday mornings with you when you were free, which unfortunately, was pretty much all the time. You played games, sang karaoke, and even let Mary’s one-eyed cat Fred come over. He took a liking to your swinging chair in the living room, and if Mary couldn’t find him at home, odds were he somehow squeezed through your window and ended up in that chair.

Another two months had passed, though, before you met Mary’s uncle and guardian, Frank. You came to learn that Mary stayed with Roberta every Friday night because “Frank needs time to be an adult” and she was not allowed to come back to the house until noon on Saturdays. This information made you feel like Frank must be some kind of sad, perpetual fuckboy. You were right about the sad part, not so much about the latter. One morning while Mary played with your watercolors, Roberta let slip - ironically over a cup of tea - that Frank did have the occasional hookup, but usually, he drank himself sleepy on Friday nights and just needed the time to himself. He worked himself to the bone as a boat mechanic, often late into the night because it was too hot to do some jobs during the day. Frank took Mary in when she was just a baby after his sister, her mother, tragically committed suicide. He spent the majority of his scarce free time with Mary, so when Mary was still a toddler, Roberta offered the Friday night deal. Frank countered that he would do any repairs in the trailer park for free, but she refused to let him do that work without pay, saying he deserved to have a life, too.

She also informed you that Frank was a former philosophy professor, single, and very attractive, especially if you were into the rugged thing. You rolled your eyes with an amused exhale and took another sip of your tea. You’d be lying if you said your interest wasn’t piqued. Mary then shouted over her shoulder, confirming that she’d been listening to your entire conversation, “Frank is great, but he’s a grump. Good luck cracking that egg.” You snorted, nearly spitting out your tea, and she went back to reading your color theory book to Fred.

With that, you heard a sharp rap at the door. You set your tea down on the kitchen table, curious who your visitor might be. You didn’t know anyone else in the trailer park, or in town, really. You opened the door, taking in the sight of possibly - no, definitely - the most handsome man you’d ever seen. You quickly guessed it was Frank, judging by the grease smeared on his quite large hands. His eyes, though tired, had the same bright look as Mary’s, and he had the most perfectly imperfect fluffy hair and overgrown stubble.

“Good morning,” he said with a sweet, closed-mouthed smile. “Is Mary here?”

You had to remind yourself to breathe. Stammering, you opened the door wider, gesturing inside. “Hi, y-yes. She is!” Why am I like this? “She’s just painting with Fred. Please, come in.” You moved aside so he could fit his broad shoulders through the doorframe and then held out your hand. “You must be Frank. I’m Y/N. Mary is just wonderful.” You smiled at him, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks.

He took your hand in both of his, gentler than you’d expected. “I’m sorry. Yes, I’m Frank. It’s great to meet you, finally.” He smiled wide for the first time and you were certain you’d pass out. Who LOOKS like this? “And thank you, she really is wonderful. I couldn’t do it without Roberta. She’s family.” He smiled and waved at Roberta, who was looking at you over the lip of her mug.

Mary didn’t even bother to turn around and face Frank. “What are you doing here, Frank? It’s only 11. I have a whole ‘nother hour with my friends.” You tried to keep your laugh quiet, covering your mouth with your hand and shaking your head.

“Well, excuse me for thinking you might like to go out on the boat with me this morning. I guess I’ll go by myself.”

Mary jumped up from the floor, scrambling to clean up your paints and books. “Can Y/N and Roberta come?”

Frank crouched down to meet Mary’s eyes. “Of course they can, if they’d like.” He looked back at you over his shoulder, trying to gauge your interest, then turning back to his niece. “But do you remember what I told you?”

You could see that Mary was making a conscious effort not to roll her eyes. “You told me that my adult friends have adult lives that include adult responsibilities, and they might not always be available to spend time with me.”

“And?” he looked at her expectantly.

“And I need to invite them to do things without assuming they will do them.” She couldn’t hold back her eye roll any longer, but she made sure not to let Frank see. “Roberta, Y/N, would you both like to join us on the boat today?”

You were amazed by the exchange taking place in front of you, able to see where some of Mary’s brains and tenacity came from. The conversation between the two flowed so easily, playful yet intelligent. It was clear that Frank treated Mary not as a child, but as a person, and you chided yourself internally for thinking that was kinda hot.

Shaking yourself out of your mildly inappropriate thoughts, you responded. “I’d love to come, Mary.” You smiled at her, bending over to help her pick up the last of the paints from the floor. “Roberta?”

Roberta gave you a look and you just knew she planned this somehow. “I actually do have some of those adult responsibilities to handle today, but thank you for inviting me.” You sent a glare in her direction, quick but no less scathing. “Maybe next time.” She winked at you before washing out her mug and saying her goodbyes.

You spent the whole rest of the day and night with Frank and Mary, doing everything from building sandcastles to cooking dinner together. Mary eventually fell asleep in your lap as you were watching Oliver & Company, Frank’s favorite Disney film that had become Mary’s, too. “An underrated classic,” they told you in unison.

You helped Frank put Mary to bed, a task made easier after such a tiring day. “I guess I should get going.” You stood awkwardly in the small kitchen, unsure of yourself and painfully aware of how close your hand was to Frank’s resting on the counter.

“Yeah, I have a job early in the morning.” He looked down at his shoes, unable to look you in the eye, and you wondered if he hadn’t found your company as enjoyable as you’d found his.

“Listen, I don’t know if you’ve been to Ferg’s? The little bar down the road? I go every Friday night just to relax and have a few beers. Maybe you’d like to come with me next weekend?”

Is he asking me on a date? You could feel your heartbeat racing. The look on your face must not have matched the excitement you felt at the prospect of spending time alone with the dreamy, kind, sarcastic man in front of you.

He felt like an idiot when you hesitated to answer. He clearly read everything wrong. He had to fix this. “It’s a good place to meet people, you know? I know you’re fairly new to the area, so if you’re looking for more local friends, it’s a good place to start.” He winced, hoping you couldn’t sense his embarrassment at thinking that you would want to go on a date with him.

You swallowed, trying not to let your disappointment show outwardly. Of course he’s not interested in me. Stupid. “Oh, yeah! That would be great, Frank. What time?”

Frank let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, relieved that you didn’t seem offended by his offer. “How’s 7? I’ll pick you up? We can walk over together.”

And that’s how Fridays came to mean so much to you. Almost every Friday for the last six months, Frank met you at your door and you walked to Ferg’s together. Frank told you it would be a good place to make new friends, but you paid no mind to the other patrons. You only had eyes for each other, yet neither of you could see it, even though Roberta pointed out (repeatedly) that neither of you had taken anyone else home in all that time.

The more time you spent with Frank, the more certain you were that God was real and your life was His favorite trainwreck reality TV series. Even if you could have customized a dream man Build-A-Bear style, Frank still would blow your creation out of the water. He was smart and funny, not to mention an adoring parent to Mary, to whom you grew more attached each day. He was kind and thoughtful, talented and hard-working. Although he was a grouch, as Mary would say, he always was sweet to you. He took a genuine interest in anything you had to say, whether you were venting about work or filling him on the latest episode of whatever show you were binging. He was ridiculously sexy without even trying. All those hours he spent doing manual labor in the sun did wonders for his physique. You’d only seen him completely shirtless on one occasion, and the image of him with sweat dripping down his chest was burned into your memory, fueling your late-night thots and causing you to break out your vibrator on what was now a regular basis.

Six months had come and gone in the blink of an eye, and you’d begun to accept that Frank didn’t want to be anything more than friends with you. You decided tonight was as good a night as any to talk to someone new, to start letting go of your unrequited feelings.

You swapped out your usual jeans for a sundress, t-shirt bra for a push-up, and lip balm for lipstick. Putting your phone and some cash in a wristlet, you considered wearing your new strappy sandals. The walk to Ferg’s was about five minutes each way down a sandy road, though, and memories of the sticky floor inside aided your preferred pair of Converse in their victory for the night.

Just as you finished tying your shoes, you heard a knock at the door. You adjusted your cleavage and fluffed your hair a final time with one last look in the mirror. Here goes.

Frank felt like he had the wind knocked out of him in the best possible way. He suddenly felt entirely underdressed in his aloha shirt, even though it was his go-to for nights out of the house. He’d never seen you dressed so nicely when you weren’t going to work.

You were the kind of beautiful that didn’t require makeup. Your natural hair always framed your face perfectly, even if you didn’t think so. He thought you were adorable when you were concentrating on something, blowing your hair out of your face with a huff. Visions of your soft curves made their way into Frank’s dreams on more than one occasion. He had seen you in your swimsuit several times, sunbathing with Roberta and swimming with Mary at the beach. It wasn’t even all that revealing, but it accentuated your figure in ways that forced Frank into needing a cold shower or two. Above all, though, he admired your heart. You’d allowed Mary into your life without hesitation, spending time with her because you wanted to and allowing her to ask all those questions that Frank just wouldn’t be able to answer. It killed him that you didn’t see him the way he saw you, a perfect partner for him and a worthy maternal figure for Mary.

“Frank? You okay?” Your concerned voice shook him out of his thoughts, prompting him to close his mouth which apparently had opened wide in astonishment when you stood in the doorway.

“Yeah, um... You look…” He looked a little confused, his brow furrowed and lips pursed. “Why are you all dolled up? It’s only Ferg’s.” He wished he could’ve kicked himself in the teeth when your face fell at his question. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Shit. Let me try that again,” he nearly begged, running up to you to stop you from going back inside. “You look really nice, honey.” He ran his calloused hand up your forearm, but quickly returned it to his side when he realized what he’d done. “Is it a special occasion, though? Should I change?”

You gave him a watery smile, given that you were three seconds from slamming the door in his face and crying. “That’s better. Thank you.” You lightly pushed at his shoulder, trying and failing to ignore the electricity you felt at the contact. “No occasion, though. Just thought maybe it was about time I actually introduced myself to someone new.”

You couldn’t quite read his reaction. Little did you know he was certain he just felt his heart physically crack in his chest. “What do you mean?”

The two of you started walking, the tension between you thickening the very air you breathed. “Well, when you first invited me to Ferg’s, you said maybe I’d get to know some other people in the area, right? But we’re always with each other. I’m sure you’re itching to talk to someone other than me. I don’t want to hold you back.”

“Ah. Gotcha.” Frank abruptly reverted to the quiet, distant state he usually occupied before he met you. He sped up a bit, walking ahead of you and desperately attempting to school his features before you caught up with him.

Frank practically ran to the restroom, not slowing down even to hold the door open for you. You took a deep breath and rolled your shoulders, relaxing before entering the bar. Normally, whoever made it first would order drinks for you both, but Frank made it painfully clear that he had no desire to be in your company tonight. You ordered your usual, an Angry Orchard with a shot of Fireball in a tall glass. The combination tasted like apple cider, but the burn in your throat was caused by liquor rather than heat. It was strong enough to get you buzzed, but not so strong that you’d be stumbling home. You swallowed half the glass in one gulp, wanting to feel the warmth in your veins boosting your confidence as quickly as possible.

“Y/N? How are you?” You turned around, eyes meeting those of Jamie, your coworker. He leaned in for a hug and you accepted somewhat reluctantly, having interacted with him only in passing.

“Hey! I’m all right. What’s up?” You smiled at him, taking another sip of your drink. Jamie was not very subtly staring at your chest. You weren’t crazy about him, but the attention felt nice, so you allowed it.

“Not much. Just happy it’s Friday, ya know?” He looked around for a moment before returning his attention to you. “You’re usually here with that mechanic dude, right?”

You stifled a laugh thinking about how Frank would react if he heard himself referred to as “dude” by this prick. “Yeah, he’s around somewhere. We’re just-“

“-Just friends?” he finished for you with a hopeful look.

You nodded in response, looking him up and down. He was no Frank, but you couldn’t deny he was handsome. It had been so long since you’d even been kissed, and though you hated to admit it, you were touch-starved. One night couldn’t hurt, could it?

Meanwhile, Frank was splashing his face with cool water. He couldn’t believe he’d fucked up so royally. He was sure you didn’t want him how he wanted you, and now he was sure it was too late to tell you how he really felt.

He knew from the moment he saw you that he’d never get you out of his head. Roberta had been talking you up to Frank for weeks, but he wanted no part of it, mumbling something about there being “a reason why no one used matchmakers anymore.” He had no choice but to make your acquaintance when he was looking for Mary, and he’d never been so happy that Roberta could say she told him so.

Later that day at the beach, Mary approached him while you were dozing on a towel in the sand. She sat on his lap and reached for his face, using her pointer fingers to turn the straight line of his mouth up into a smile. “Roberta says you have a ‘charming’ smile, Frank. We think you should use it more.” He chuckled quietly, careful not to disturb you, and pulled Mary in close, planting a wet kiss on her cheek. She grimaced at the feeling, dramatically wiping at her face until he let her go back to reading with Fred.

The sound of the jukebox starting up cut short his reverie. He had to get out there and explain himself. Frank dried his face and hands with a paper towel before smacking his cheeks and stretching his neck back and forth to each shoulder.

Frank exited the restroom only to find some douchebag staring at your ass as you leaned over toward the bar. He saw red when the piece of shit held out his hand behind his back while his friend slipped a twenty-dollar bill into it, seemingly winning some sort of bet.

Jamie didn’t stand a chance when Frank stormed in between the two of you. “That’s IT,” he yelled, so intense he borderline bellowed. He threw whatever cash he had in his pocket on the bar to pay for your drinks before he pulled you outside, almost getting to your door while you fought against his grip. He only stopped when you spun your body around like something out of Dancing with the Stars and jumped in front of him, forcing him to catch you.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, what are y-”

“-What are YOU doing, Frank? What the fuck was that?” You put your feet back down on the ground but remained facing him, arms crossed over your chest.

He groaned in frustration, suddenly realizing he actually had no clue how to respond. “Fuck.”

You looked at him, tapping your foot in anticipation.

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.” He rubbed at his temples in the way he did when he felt a headache coming on.

“And how was he looking at me, Frank? What does it matter to you?”

“He was looking at you like you were a piece of meat and I… FUCK!”

You both turned when your neighbor opened his window. “Can you kids keep it down out here?”

You waved bashfully at the old man. “Sorry, Mr. Parker,” you said in unison.

“Come inside, Frankie.” The nickname that typically made him roll his eyes at you never had sounded sweeter, now that its use confirmed you didn’t hate him for the scene he made. You both toed off your shoes at the door before you made your way into the living room, motioning for him to sit next to you on the couch when he tried to sit in the armchair across the room.

You leaned forward, pinching his chin between your thumb and forefinger. “Now what’s going on in that sun-damaged brain of yours?”

He let out a laugh so soft you almost missed it, but you were glad you didn’t. Sitting back against the arm of the couch, you pulled a pillow into your lap and hugged it, giving Frank your full attention.

Frank cleared his throat, doing his best to accept that it was now or never. “That guy was leering at you, and it pissed me off. You deserve better, Y/N.” He pried your fingers from where they were locked around the pillow to hold your hands in his.

“If you want to meet new people, that’s great. If you don’t want to be with me, that’s a little less great, but I’d understand. He didn’t even pay for your drinks. And I th-”

You covered his mouth with one of your hands, and he knitted his brows in confusion. “You’re making it sound like it’s an option to be with you.” You were in disbelief, side-eyeing him, waiting for Ashton Kutcher to announce that you were, in fact, being Punk’d.

The corners of his mouth lifted into the soft smile he reserved for you. It was the same one he gave you whether you were on a tangent about how “Obsessed” by Mariah Carey is “the single greatest diss track of all time” or you were helping Mary put a harness and leash on Fred “just to see how he’d do” on a walk.

“For a distinguished professor, you’re kind of a dummy, Frank.” You took his face in your hands, thrilled to be feeling his stubble against your palms. Before he could talk back to you, you kissed him, unsure how you denied yourselves such a simple yet extraordinary pleasure for so long. It only took a moment for him to relax into it, his hands removing the pillow between you before finding your waist and pulling you almost into his lap.

You deepened the kiss, threading your fingers through his hair. He pulled away first, pressing his forehead to yours. “Seems like we’re both dummies, huh?”

You were going to ask why pulled away until you looked down to see a considerable tent forming in the front of his jeans. You laughed as he pulled you into a tight hug, one arm wrapped around you while the other hand held your face against his neck.

You kissed the side of his neck softly before leaning back to look at him. “All this time? I thought you didn’t see me this way.” You held his face, stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. “You asked me to go to Ferg’s and then said I could meet other people, so I thought that was it, you know?”

He covered your hands with his and pecked your lips softly. “Honey, I thought it was the other way around. I was trying to ask you out and you looked like you’d seen a ghost.” You giggled, spluttering a bit because tears had started falling at some point. He wiped your tears away before swiping his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down a bit. “We’re fools, aren’t we?”

You nodded slowly and Frank saw something wicked flash in your eyes before you took his thumb in your mouth, sucking lightly. “Jesus, honey.” His length hardened underneath you and you could feel the wetness beginning to pool in your panties, prompting you to grind down into his lap.

You released his thumb from your mouth, pressing your chest into his before kissing him again. “I think we’re only fools if we don’t take advantage of the rest of your adult time.” You removed your dress easily, returning your hands to Frank’s shoulders to push off his shirt.

He surged forward to kiss you again, working magic with his tongue against yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he picked you up, walking you into the bedroom. Placing you on the bed carefully, he removed your bra and panties before pulling off his boxers and jeans in one go. You thought you wanted him before, but now that you could see everything he’d been hiding under his baggy clothes, you didn’t see how you could ever let him leave your bedroom.

The next few minutes were spent exploring each other’s mouths while Frank stretched you with his fingers. You didn’t think you’d ever been so wet in your life and thought you might pass out if you didn’t feel him inside you immediately. You gave his cock a few strokes before sliding his head through your folds, coating him in your slick.

“Waitwaitwait, honey. Do you have a condom?”

“You don’t need one if you don’t want one. It’s okay.”

He looked like you just gave him tomorrow’s winning lotto numbers, taking a deep breath to steady himself before he looked at you again. “Oh, God. Are you sure?”

“Mhm. I wanna feel you. Make me yours?”

“Anything you want, honey, but if you change your mind, just tell me, okay?” He lined himself up, seconds shy of entering you for the first time.

“I figured if you were gonna be possessive of me tonight, you might as well take it the whole nine, Frankie.” You laughed as he let out an exasperated sigh. “Seriously, though, I’m clean, I’m on the pill, and I’ve wanted you for a long time.” You reached up to scratch lightly through his chest hair.

“The only thing I wanna hear right now is you moaning for me.” He drove into you harshly, but waited a moment for you to adjust once he was seated to the hilt. “So damn wet and tight for me, honey. You’re so perfect, so beautiful.” He kissed you again before he began to move, slowly but surely making you lose your mind.

He dipped his head down to take one nipple in his mouth, then the other, effectively shutting you up and emptying all thoughts from your head. He nipped at the swell of your breast, soothing the bite with his tongue. “Fuck, Frank, please!”

“Please what, honey?” He picked up his pace, fucking into you so vigorously you moved up the bed. “Tell me what you need.”

“Make me cum, Frank. Please, baby, I need it. Need you,” you cried, leaning up to bite into his shoulder, stifling your moans.

“I wanna hear you, Y/N. I wanna hear those pretty moans while I’m making this perfect pussy cum for me.” The combination of his filthy words and the sight of him sucking on his own fingers before rubbing at your clit sent you over the edge, making you scream his name over and over again for what felt like forever and not long enough.

You could tell he was close, his hips stuttering and losing their rhythm. He began to pull out, unsure if you were willing to let him finish inside you, but knowing he was too close to wait for an answer.

You hooked your legs around his waist and pulled him close, pushing him back into you. “Fill me up, Frank. I wanna feel all of you. Please give it to me,” you whimpered. His release triggered another for you, chanting each other’s names surely loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

He stayed inside you as you both came down from your shared high, gingerly flipping you over so he laid on his back with you on his chest. He kissed the top of your head, fingers fluttering up and down your sides.

“What’s on your mind now, Frankie?” You looked up at him through your lashes, mildly terrified of the answer.

He looked down at you with the most adoration you’d ever seen, lifting your chin so your eyes met his in the moonlight. “That wasn’t too soon, was it? You mean so much to me and to Mary. I don’t wanna mess this up. I don’t ever wanna hurt you. You’re the best thing in my life besides Mary, you know that?”

You kissed his chest before looking back up at him, smiling. “First of all, I would argue that wasn’t soon enough.” He hissed as you clenched around his still softening cock inside you.

“You’re evil.”

Winking at him, you continued tracing patterns on his chest with your fingers. “Second, that all kinda sounds like you might be in love with me, Frank Adler.”

His hands stopped moving for a second before he responded. “Would you run away if I said I am?”

“Well, I wouldn’t run away. This is my house.” You thought your heart might explode in your chest.

“I didn’t even say it, but I take it back,” he huffed, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“What if I told you I felt the same way?”

He grinned, sitting up to kiss you feverishly on your cheeks, the tip of your nose, and finally your lips. You could feel him starting to harden again inside you, leading to round two of… well, you lost count.

You ate breakfast and showered together in time for Frank to return home before Mary did, agreeing to talk more later and to hold out on Roberta for a while.

Frank stood on your doorstep, leaning in to kiss you once more. All of a sudden, you heard a familiar meow and thanked God you were dressed and not in your robe.

“Frank, what are you doing here? I thought I’d come see Y/N since I’m not supposed to come home until noon.”

You bit your tongue to keep from cackling. Frank ran a hand over his face, his blissful bubble burst. He was getting you a hotel room next weekend.

#shamelesshoesforchris2021 #maggie's writing #frank adler #frank adler x fem!reader #frank adler fluff #frank adler smut

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psychovigilantewrites · 3 years

Text

Stay Away

Pairing: Reader/Jason Todd

Genre: Smut

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jason’s eyebrows shot up.

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

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

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

Jason scoffed at that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

Jason saw how your face lit up at his praise.

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

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

“Where’s Grayson?” he huffed.

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

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

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

Jason rolled his eyes.

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

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

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

He found that adorable.

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

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

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

“Don’t you disagree with this?”

“With what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatever.”

***

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

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

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

He frowned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jason was taken aback.

And then he started laughing out loud.

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

Dick let out a loud groan.

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

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

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

Dick fished out a twenty and threw it at Tim.

“What is happening?” Jason asked, confused.

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

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

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

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

It was the first time you smiled at him.

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

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

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

“Principles?” Tim scoffed, “You?”

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

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

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

“Am not!” Dick protested.

“Yeah, Dick’s not,” you agreed.

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

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

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

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

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

“Whatever you say, kid.”

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jason frowned to himself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fucking whatever.”

***

He really wanted to ask, he really did.

If not out of care, then out of curiosity.

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

Yet, he really wanted to know.

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

But he never got to it.

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

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

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

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

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

Your hair was long now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why did you want to find me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s a first,” he scoffed.

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

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

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

Shit.

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

But he didn’t want to hurt you.

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

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

Jason remained silent in shock.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He could go rogue again. Just one more time.

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

“Dead,” you snorted, “Thanks to you.”

“What?”

That took him out of his burning anger.

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

Fuck, he remembered.

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

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

You paused to smile sadly at the memory.

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

You finally looked at him.

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

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

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

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

“Favour?”

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

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

“Sure thing, kid.”

***

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

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

But then, you also started warming up to him.

And that became the major issue.

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

No, now you were just so fucking annoying.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t you have Tim to annoy?”

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

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

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

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

Jason was taken aback.

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

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

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

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

You strutted away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As expected, you let go of him.

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

You started flexing your toned biceps comically.

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

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

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

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

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

Jason looked at Dick in question.

Dick merely shrugged.

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

He wasn’t used to it.

Human contact.

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

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

That made him jump out of his seat in panic.

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

“Toilet,” he mumbled, and left.

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

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

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

But why on God’s planet were you?

Jason groaned quietly to himself.

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

***

Half a year later, and it didn’t.

And it got bad. Real bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just. Get. Off,” he growled.

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

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

He glared at you.

And regretted it.

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

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

And you gave him a wicked grin.

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

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

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

That bitch fucking tricked me, he thought.

And he fell for it.

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

He took a wheeled chair and sat behind him.

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

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

That ticked him off a bit.

“It’s about your daughter.”

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

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

Bruce raised an amused eyebrow.

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

“And?” Bruce questioned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But now, he let his thoughts free.

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

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

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

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

He owed you that at the very least.

He gulped loudly.

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

But you were still sixteen.

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

“Fuck,” he groaned in frustration.

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

Try not to lick. R.

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

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

His thumbs were shaking when he clicked play.

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

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

Or did he?

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

He swallowed hard.

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

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

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

“Jason.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Jay,” you picked up.

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

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

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

“Fuck myself with your gun?” you giggled.

His dick twitched.

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

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

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

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

He glanced at the gun next to him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t ignore me!” you ran after him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This little bitch broke into my house and started defiling my things, Tim,” he growled, “Yes, I need to do that.”

“Defiling your things?” Tim repeated.

You let out a soft giggle.

“Forget it,” Jason threw his hands up in the air. “I’ll patrol alone.”

Jason saw the slight disappointment in your eyes when he left which made him feel a little guilty, but he ignored it.

Whatever, you were basically just asking for it.

***

Another half a year went by, and Jason found himself at the Manor for Dick’s barbecue and pool party. He was already dreading it, because he knew you would be up to no fucking good, especially when you had the excuse to wear a bikini in front of him.

He had contemplated about not going, but Roy was going to be there, and Roy was making him go.

The first person Jason looked out for was you, because he had to be on his guard. He was standing at the glass sliding door of the manor that opened to the pool to survey the crowd. He spotted you in the pool, laughing at who he assumed was Aqualad- Jason didn't bother to learn his name- wearing a dark red bikini top that fixated behind your neck.

“Jaybird! You made it!” Roy’s voice boomed all the way from the other side of the pool and came running to where Jason was standing awkwardly.

He knew many of Dick's friends, but he was never particularly close to any of them besides Roy and Kori. Now that Kori was gone, Roy was all he had left.

“Don't call me that,” he grumbled back.

“Aw, come on,” Roy groaned, “You came to a pool party in a t-shirt and jeans? Seriously?”

“I wasn't planning on swimming,” he shrugged.

Roy was sporting a horrible bright yellow swimming shorts with green palm leaves.

“Well, I was, so I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

“Yeah,” Jason nodded and decided to head to the pool chairs and put on his sunglasses. He even brought a book to bury his nose into to avoid social interaction.

He heard a splash of water and from the corner of his eye, saw you coming towards him.

“Don’t even,” he snapped at you before you could get a word out.

“I wasn't even going to do anything, fucking dipshit,” you shot back.

Jason forced his eyes back to his book to avoid getting caught looking at how the water trickled down your glistening skin that looked oh so soft-

“What do you want then?” he huffed, turning a page.

“Well,” you began, taking a seat on the pool chair where Jason's feet were, “I was going to ask you about Roy.”

Jason glared at you, peeking from the top of his book.

“What about Roy?”

“You guys are close, right?” you hummed.

“I guess so.”

“Like, best friends?”

“What are we, twelve?” he scoffed, “Why are you asking me so many questions?”

“Well, since you're close to Roy,” you started, “I was wondering if you knew his type.”

“His type?”

“Yeah, like what kind of girls does he like?” you grinned.

“Ones who aren't underaged,” Jason growled.

“Jason I'm already seventeen,” you reminded, “Which is the legal age of consent in Gotham.”

“It doesn't matter,” he grumbled, “He's older than me, which makes him way too old for you. Forget it.”

You pouted, and then stood up. He had to redirect his gaze back to his book.

“It’s like you don't even know me, Jaybird,” you snickered, and with a flip of your wet hair which splashed droplets of water onto him, you strutted away.

He was gritting his jaw so hard he could feel his teeth ache.

Fuck, why can't you just stop?

“I need a fucking drink,” he muttered to himself and left for the kitchen where he rummaged through the refrigerator to find a stout.

He popped open the bottle cap on the marble edge of the kitchen island.

“Alfred would kill you if he saw you do that,” a voice laughed.

Jason rolled his eyes at Dick, who was sipping on a can of beer behind him. “I’ve gotten in trouble for worse.”

“God, I forget how similar you guys are,” he leaned against the counter.

“Who?”

“You know who. Her,” he pointed out.

“We’re not the same,” he denied, heading back outside.

“No, she deals with her issues better than you did,” Dick followed him, “As a matter of fact, you're still dealing.”

“Get to the point, Grayson,” he snapped.

“The point is, she’s not a kid, Jason,” Dick told him, “Why don't you give her a chance?”

Jason stopped in his tracks, standing still before exiting through the glass door. It was quieter inside the manor.

“A chance for what?” he grit.

“To prove herself to you,” Dick explained, “I've noticed how you treat her, Jay. Tim as well. It's like you're trying to push her away. Why? You don't think she's good enough?”

“Holy shit,” Jason started laughing humourlessly, “You think this is about me simply not liking her? You guys think I'm just being angsty?”

“Isn't it?” Dick cocked his head to the side.

“She's been fucking flirting with me, Grayson,” Jason said.

“Okay, I get that, but she sort of flirts with everyone,” he shrugged.

“She comes and sit on my lap, whispers stupid shit in my ear, sends me pictures of herself trying on revealing clothes, makes vulgar motions with her hands, fucking tries to seduce me,” he listed down, “Don't tell me she does that with everyone.”

“Okay, maybe not,” the older man frowned.

“Let me tell you, then,” Jason walked closer to Dick, “She broke into my fucking house, sat on my fucking bed, and started recording herself on her phone, and then sent the video to me.”

“Wait, what?” Dick sputtered, “Recording herself doing what?”

“You fucking know what,” he stated.

“Oh, Jesus,” Dick ran a finger through his hair, “Wow, she's ballsy.”

“That's your reaction?” Jason scoffed, “She's ballsy?”

“I mean-”

“She's sexually harassing me, Grayson!” he argued.

“But,” Dick began, “What did you really think about it? I mean, really?”

“What do you mean?” he hissed.

“Did you watch it?” Dick persisted. “The video?”

“What- I- no, I just-” Jason spluttered, caught off guard.

“You can't lie to me, Jason,” Dick gave him a mischievous smile, “You like her, too. That's why you're pushing her away. Because you don't think you're good enough for her.”

Fuck Dick and his fucking superior detective skills.

“She's too young for me,” Jason simply stated.

“Well, apparently not too young for Roy,” Dick smirked.

“What-” Jason turned around and looked outside.

You were in the pool, standing in the corner. You had a hand on Roy’s chest, looking up at him and laughing. He had a hand on your waist, and was whispering something into your ear.

Jason went into a fit of rage when he saw Roy touching you.

“Mother fucker,” Jason swore, and without thinking, went straight to where you were. He stood there at the edge of the pool, arms crossed, and looking down at the two of you who were both unaware of his presence.

“Roy,” Jason growled.

Roy jumped and looked at Jason in panic, and as if you electrocuted him, immediately jumped away from your touch.

“H-hey, Jaybird,” he awkwardly laughed, “I was just- I was- uh- I was telling her about what a great friend you were.”

“Oh, really?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah!” he nodded vigorously, “Jason here is super good with his aim as well. Could even rival mine.”

Jason ignored Roy, and glared at you, who was looking up at him with obviously fake innocent eyes.

“Out,” he commanded.

“What?”

“I said out,” he repeated. “Out of the pool. I need to talk to you.”

“Oh, come on, Jason,” you started to whine, but then stopped when you saw his expression.

You climbed out of the pool, and again, Jason had to avert his eyes. Without sparing a glance at you, he gripped you by the arm and pulled you to go inside.

“Ow! Jason, let go, fucking cocksucker!” you cried.

He snatched a towel from Tim’s grip as he walked, ignoring Tim’s protests and stares from others, and then threw it on top of your head.

“Ugh- Jason!” you complained. He continued to lead you inside the manor, up the stairs, and to his old room.

He slammed the door shut behind him.

“What's the big deal, you shitpouch?! Who do you fucking think you are? Fucking cumwipe, pisswizard, cuntpuddle...”

That wasn't the end of your swearing. You went on for another good minute of words that could make Batman blush, before stopping.

You were fuming. Your face red, your expression twisted into a scowl, water dripping all over the wooden floors, the fluffy towel around your neck that you hadn't used.

God, you were so hot when you were angry.

“You done?” he deadpanned. He sensed that you were going to go into another stream of name calling, so he cut you off.

“I told you to forget Roy,” he grit.

“And since when have I ever done what you told me to do?” you shot at him

You had a point.

“Look, kid-”

“I'm not a fucking kid, Jason!” you yelled at him for the first time, “I haven't been a kid since my dad- since I was twelve!”

Jason suddenly felt pain in his chest.

“I know you've been through shit,” Jason acknowledged, “What happened with your dad and your brother- I’m fucking glad I killed them. And even if I hadn’t back then, I would have broken every single rule and hunt them down and make them suffer before ending their lives after finding out what they did to you. Hell, before you told me that they were dead, I was already ready to turn every single rock to find them.”

Your expression softened at that.

“And I know you had to grow up fast,” he continued, “All of us who lived there did. But you're out of that now. You don't have to fucking try so hard to act older than you are anymore.”

Your eyes shone with anger once more.

“That's the thing you never got, Jason,” you spat, “I'm not trying. I never did. This is who I am.”

You were looking at him with such fierce intensity that Jason almost forgot how to breathe.

Because you were right. He had gone through the same process where he was made to grow up fast, where he couldn’t afford to act like a kid.

He looked at you, trying not to show much emotion on his face.

Somehow in the heat of the argument and you yelling cusses at him, the two of you had gotten closer to each other, and Jason could even see the tears brimming in your eyes that were threatening to spill.

He immediately felt like a piece of shit, like every word you called him. He never wanted to hurt you.

“Whatever,” Jason huffed, looking away to avoid your glare, “Just stay away from Roy.”

“Why, you two dating or something?” you smirked.

He simply glared at you. You obviously had recovered from your anger and was now back to your usual snarky self.

“Or,” you began, “You were jealous.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Jason objected, “Why would I be jealous?”

“Because,” you drawled, walking closer to him, “You like me.”

Jason had backed up each time you walked to him, and before he knew it his back was hitting the door.

Fuck, he hated how much you affected him. You had him backed up against the fucking door, for fuck’s sake.

To get a semblance of power back, he stared at you straight in the eye, unblinking, and leaned closer to you.

“You wish,” he said coldly.

He noticed that your breath stuttered, and a blush creeped up your cheeks.

Then, he leaned back and smirked.

“Oh, no you don't,” you shook your head, “You think you can win this game, Todd?”

“Unlike you, I'm not playing a game.”

“But yes you are, Jay,” you placed your palms flat on his chest, “You’ve been playing hard to get with me.”

“Playing hard to get is only used when the other person actually wants you,” he scoffed.

He didn't know why, but he was sweating. His respiratory rate had gone up, and shit.

Shit.

He could feel his dick getting filled up.

Maybe it was how close you were to him, maybe it was the fact that you were half naked in front of him with all the privacy he could have asked for.

Maybe it was the fact that it was you who had him in a corner instead of the other way round.

“I'm not a fucking idiot, Jay. Batman trained me, too. I've seen how you look at me and I’ve seen how you tried not to.”

Fuck.

“Your pupils dilate, your breathing gets faster, you start to sweat,” you went on, “And then suddenly you excuse yourself. You run away.”

Your hands went up to his shoulders, and your body was now against his, getting his clothes wet. He could smell the chlorine on you when you leaned into his ear and whispered.

“You fucking coward,” you breathed.

Jason's breath hitched and he had to squeeze his eyes shut. He pressed his palms against the door behind him to restrain himself from touching you, grabbing you, squeezing you, slapping you.

Jason knew he was fully hard now, because it was getting painful.

Suddenly, the pressure and heat of your body against his own disappeared. He opened his eyes.

But sucked in a breath when he saw that you were on your knees in front of him, eye level to his crotch, the tent in his pants mere inches away from your lips.

“What the fuck are you- mmpf,” he threw his head back, hitting the door.

You had gripped his shaft hard, sending a pulse of pleasure through his body.

No. Jason had to stop this. He couldn't go through with this. He shouldn't.

“You want me to suck your cock, Jay?” You purred.

Jason swallowed hard, just trying his best to restrain himself.

He remained silent for a beat. And then-

“Do whatever you want,” he managed to choke out.

You showed him a winning grin, and then unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, pulling down his jeans.

You started to mouth his length through the fabric of his boxers, getting it translucent with your spit. He had never been so horny in his entire life.

As much as Jason’s head was screaming at him, telling him to stop you, telling him how inappropriate it was, he didn’t have the strength to voice it out.

He wanted to tell you to stop teasing him, to hurry up and put your mouth around his cock already, but again, it was like he had lost his voice.

He was utterly conflicted, so he opt to just stay silent.

You hooked your fingers in the waistband of his briefs and then pulled it down, revealing his cock to you. He hissed slightly at the relief.

Jason wanted to remember your expression the minute you saw his cock forever, he wanted to burn it in his brain and immortalize it. Your eyes had gone rounder, your mouth popped open with a gasp, and your excitement grew.

“It’s everything that I’ve dreamed about and more,” you fluttered your eyes dramatically before gripping his shaft and licking one long, steady stripe from the base to his tip.

Jason bit his lip to muffle his groan.

You licked him again, and again, and then started to swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, tracing your tongue around the sulcus underneath his head.

Fuck, you were so fucking good at teasing him, and making him squirm.

He looked down at you, and you were looking up through your long lashes, eyes almost innocent. And then, you took him in his mouth, going all the way down.

“Fuck,” Jason gasped.

You immediately built a rhythm, the most perfect rhythm that he liked. It was suspicious how you knew his preference, and at the back of his head he made a mental reminder to check his room for hidden cameras.

You provided him with the right amount of tongue, the right amount of suction, the right amount of teeth gently grazing him from time to time that he swore could have drove him insane.

Your mouth was soft, and warm, and wet, and before he knew it, he was ready to fucking explode.

As if you were familiar with his expressions, you picked up the pace and started sucking even harder each time you bobbed your head. Jason felt his balls tighten, the heat spreading to his toes and making them tingle.

“Fuck- I’m gonna- I’m gonna-” he rasped.

And then he released with sudden explosion into your mouth, going through a sensory overdrive because as he was releasing, he could still feel you sucking him dry and swallowing.

When he was done, you released his cock with a pop and a grin.

Jason had to catch his breath for a while, because it was the best head he had ever received in his entire life, and he had managed to keep his hands off you the entire time.

“You made me jealous on purpose,” he panted.

“Duh,” you stood up after politely zipping him back up, putting your hands on your waist so fucking proudly, like a power stance.

“Where the hell did you learn how to suck cock that good?” he interrogated.

“You’ve lived in Titans Tower before,” you winked, “You should know.”

He didn’t like that. He didn’t like that statement and implication one bit.

“This can’t,” he started, “We can’t-”

“This can’t happen again?” you finished for him, rolling your eyes. “Typical. Just get over yourself already, Jason. It gets tiring.”

“I’m no good for you,” he avoided your eyes.

“You say that right after coming into my mouth,” you scoffed, “Sure.”

He clenched his jaw. You were right. He was trash for doing that to you, defiling you like that.

Jason must have let his emotions leak, because you suddenly added, “What I meant was, we’ve already crossed that line. We don’t have to go back to how it was before. I like you, Jason. And I know you like me, too.”

“That doesn’t matter,” he muttered, “This was a mistake. We can’t do this again. I’m sorry. Just stay away from me.”

He left.

***

He had avoided you for a long time after that.

Months went by, and he ignored your texts and your calls. Even the knockings outside his door. He had made sure to upgrade his security, with both Tim and Roy’s help so you couldn’t break in again.

When he went on patrols with everyone else, he made sure you couldn’t catch him alone, so he arrived at the very latest, and left at the very soonest, never exchanging more than a few words with you.

And every time, it killed him. He saw the hurt flash in your eyes every time he left quickly, he noticed that you had texted him less and less as the months went on, and eventually came to a complete stop.

You had even stopped calling him those weird, creative swear names that he loved so much.

Jason finally won. He had managed to get you to give up on him.

But hell did it make him feel like absolute shit.

Eight months had passed by, and he was getting ready for the event he had absolutely been dreading. It was your 18th birthday party that Bruce had used as an excuse to host a charity gala at the manor.

Jason thought it was a dick move for him to take advantage of your birthday for the sake of his own gain, but apparently you had been more than supportive over it, understanding Bruce’s position as one of Gotham’s elite.

He didn’t want to go. He couldn’t bear to face you again where you could pull him somewhere private to talk to him. But Dick and Tim had convinced him.

It was your birthday after all.

When he arrived, everyone was staring at him.

Well, he was wearing just a leather jacket over a black shirt and a pair of dark denim jeans after all.

“You couldn’t have dressed for the occasion, Jason?” he heard Tim approach him from behind.

Tim was sporting a suit, just like everyone else.

“Couldn’t be bothered,” he shrugged, “What’s the agenda?”

“Mingling, dinner, speeches, more mingling,” Tim listed down, “Typical charity ball. The others are at the tents. We should get going.”

“I’m the dead son, remember?” he pointed out, “I don’t need to sit with you guys.”

“We’ll introduce you as Dick’s boyfriend or something, come on,” Tim gestured.

“Oh, the media would love that,” Jason muttered under his breath and went along.

The banquet area was set outside in the backyard of the Manor, where tents with clear plastic canopies were propped up, decorated with fairy lights. Since it was spring, the weather was cool enough for suits and warm enough for strapless dresses.

The main tent had a stage where a band was playing classical music- typical tunes you would hear at any other fucking gala.

Each table seated ten, and Tim had brought Jason to a table closest to the stage where he saw Dick, Bruce, and you were already seated with four others. He recognized the Mayor, the Commissioner, Lucius Fox, and a middle aged woman with greying hair he didn’t recognize with who Jason presumed was her husband.

Jason avoided looking at you, but he knew that you were staring right at him. Tim took a seat, and Jason cursed softly when he realised that the only other seat available was in between you and Dick.

Looking straight ahead, he calmly sat down. From the corner of his eye and from a portion of what he could make out, he saw that you were wearing a midnight blue dress, and a silver bracelet around your wrist which you rested on the table.

Bruce had started to converse with the guests, and Dick and Tim were having a banter amongst themselves.

“Hey,” he heard your voice.

“Happy birthday,” he mumbled.

“Thanks,” you replied.

And that was that. The two of you remained silent, with Jason occasionally checking his phone and still avoiding looking at you.

“It’s time for our speech,” Jason heard Bruce whisper to you.

He heard you get up and shuffled to the stage. He was hardly paying attention during Bruce’s welcome speech.

“...and then, the woman of the hour, my lovely daughter,” Bruce introduced you. The audience broke out in applause. Jason still hadn’t turned your way.

“Hello, everyone,” he heard your uncharacteristically nervous and shy voice over the sound system. He took a sip of wine. “T-thank coming for you all- uh- I mean-”

The audience laughed, but not in mockery. Jason couldn’t help but look at you now.

He accidentally inhaled his wine, and ended up trying to cover his coughing fits.

Up on stage, where the spotlight was on you, he had noticed your midnight blue dress had small sparkling stars on them, making you seem like you were wearing the clear night sky. Your hair was done in a simple graceful updo, which exposed your neck that he noticed was flushed, a blush creeping up to your cheeks at your own embarrassment.

Your eyes were wide in panic, and you kept on playing with your thumbs subconsciously.

His breath stuttered, because he thought you were the most beautiful creature he had ever laid his eyes on.

You were usually so snarky, so full of confidence, and wit with a mouth that could make a sailor blush- but there you were spluttering all over the microphone, a blushing mess. And hell, did that make Jason’s chest tighten in yearning for you.

“I’m sorry, I’m not used to crowds like my father is,” you tried to laugh it off, “Here, let’s try again.”

Despite your fumbles, you had a certain charm on stage that made everyone just like you.

“Thank you all for coming to my eighteenth birthday party,” you started, “I must admit, at first I wanted my party to be small and intimate. But I realised that this celebration could be used for something good instead.”

Another round of claps.

“I come from a very… humbling area in Gotham. I’m sure we’re all familiar with Crime Alley,” you stated, confidence growing as you got used to being on stage, “It was hard, living as a child in the streets. But I got lucky. Bruce Wayne found me.”

“Being the daughter of Bruce Wayne has taught me a lot about understanding and acknowledging my own privilege and using it to help others. Growing up there, myself and many other children were faced with the harsh reality of poverty and abandonment. Therefore, I would like to announce that I have started a foundation called Wayne’s Foundation for Children of Hope, where all proceeds will go to the development of Crime Alley.”

You paused and smiled at the flashing cameras of the media and waited for the applause to die down.

“Our first initiative is to build a home for lost children aged eighteen and under, to provide shelter, basic healthcare, food, and education. The primary goal of these shelters is to help kids find a place where they belong, and to help set them back on the right track. These kids also have the option to maintain anonymity for cases that involve abusive environments.”

Jason was looking at you in awe. You were standing proudly at the podium, graceful in your posture, a fierce intensity in your eyes- all previous nervousness completely gone.

Next to him, Dick leaned in and whispered, “It was all her idea, you know. Every single plan for this foundation, even the future plans she hadn’t mentioned. All hers.”

Jason remained silent and watched as you continued your speech.

“But the truth is,” you smiled sadly, “It’s still not enough. The situation in a lot of areas in Gotham is painfully swept under the rug. But hopefully with this, people like us can make things a little better for them. If you’d like to donate to the foundation, it would mean a lot to me, and to the other kids who had to grow up too fast.”

You made eye contact with Jason at that last statement, causing his heart to suddenly drum faster.

The crowd broke in a loud applause and you thanked them graciously, waving as you stepped down from the podium to take your seat.

This time, Jason didn’t take his eyes off you.

“That was great!” Tim gave you a thumbs up, “You did great!”

“Well done,” Dick grinned.

Jason took your hand and gave it a little squeeze, just smiling at you in silence. You looked at him with obvious shock, and then grinned back.

“Beautiful, Ms. Wayne,” the Mayor sitting across from you beamed, “You’ve taken after your father’s charms.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mayor,” you nodded, “But I’d like to think that my charms are my own.”

Jason had to bite back a laugh when he saw the man turn red.

He was somehow more relaxed now, even sparing occasional glances at you as you conversed with others. The dance floor was now open, and the guests had left their seats to mingle with others. The MC also announced that the bar was open.

“That’s my cue,” Jason winked at you, and then went straight to the bar to get himself something strong. From there, he just leaned back and watched how the disgustingly rich people made themselves feel better about themselves by donating the occasional couple of million dollars. Soon enough, he got sick of the pearls and diamond earrings, the solid gold watches.

He checked his own battered and scratched Swiss Army watch he had lifted from a drug lord many years ago. He should be going back soon. It wasn’t like he was needed there anyway. He had already wished you and made peace.

“What do you think?” he heard your voice approach him.

He turned and saw you come up next to him.

“Too fancy for my taste,” he started, “Looks like it took you a whole hour just to get into the damn thing. And those shoes? Looks like the crowbar was less painful than walking around in that.”

It took you a couple of seconds before realising that he was talking about your outfit.

“I meant the foundation, you fucknugget,” you hissed.

“Be careful there, sweetheart,” he raised an eyebrow, “Don’t want these people hearing you speak like that. You’ll lose your charm.”

“I don’t know how Bruce does it,” you shook your head, “It’s so exhausting.”

Jason hummed back at you as a comfortable silence fell. The two of you leaning back against the bar and just watching the crowd.

“I think it’s a great idea,” he finally said.

“Thanks,” you pursed your lips, “I kept on thinking of you, you know? When we were coming up with the plans. Was wondering what you would think of it.”

“You’re making it sound like I’m the only one from there.”

“Well, you’re the only one who would understand,” you explained, “The others, of course they empathized. But they wouldn’t understand. Not like how you and I do.”

And Jason realised that it was that factor that probably drew you close to him when you first came to them, the fact that Jason understood at more than just a superficial level how shit your life was before coming to the manor. It was a painful past that only the two of you shared, and only the two of you could talk about.

Silence fell again.

“I’m sorry,” you suddenly brought up.

“For what?” he frowned.

“For making you uncomfortable for so long,” you whispered, “I don’t know why I did it. I guess I liked your reactions. And I guess I just wanted your attention. And during that pool party- I- I thought-”

Jason waited for you to finish your sentence.

“Nevermind,” you looked away, “Forget it. I just wanted to say sorry. I crossed the line. After you stopped talking to me, I just. I don’t want that. So I’ll stop, okay? You don’t have to avoid me anymore.”

He turned around to face you.

“I stopped talking to you not because I was mad at you,” he told you, “I stopped talking to you because I was mad at myself.”

You faced him with curious eyes.

“I thought- well- fuck,” it was Jason’s turn to splutter. He took a deep breath and started again. “I thought that it was a real shit move for me to do what I did to you.”

“Wait, what?” you questioned, “What you did to me?”

“Yeah,” he grumbled, “You know. That.”

“Jason, I was the one who practically jumped you,” you scoffed, “I basically forced it on you. Why are you blaming yourself?”

“Force me? Pfftsh, you couldn’t force me to do anything.”

“Jason.”

“I liked it, okay?” he threw his arms up, “I didn’t stop you because I liked it, and I shouldn’t have liked it. I was taking advantage of you. It was wrong of me to do so.”

“God, you’re so fucking stupid,” you laughed, “I’ve been pining over you since Bruce told me you were… You know who.”

You lowered your voice.

“Want to talk inside?” he offered.

“Good idea,” you agreed.

The two of you made your way past the garden and into the manor.

“Is it okay for the birthday girl to disappear from her own party?” he smirked when he closed the door to Bruce’s study, which was the nearest room that offered privacy.

“Oh, please,” you waved your hand and sat on Bruce’s desk, “The whole party was never about me. I’m just another excuse for those cuntflaps to show off their new diamonds.”

He chuckled. “Anyway, you were saying? Something about Bruce telling me I was Red Hood?”

“Yeah,” you bit your lip in nervousness, “I’ve had a crush on you since then.”

“Really?”

Jason knew that you obviously had a crush on him, especially because of the neverending teasing and seductions, but he didn’t know it stemmed from that long ago.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I remember thinking to myself, like wow. This is the guy who killed them. And you know what? You looked exactly like how I thought you would.”

“What? How so?”

“Huge,” you started, “Scars everywhere. Grouchy as hell.”

“I’m not as grouchy as Bruce,” he defended himself.

“Still,” you chuckled, “You looked exactly like how I imagined my hero to look.”

“Super hot, sexy, and good looking?” he joked.

He had expected you to roll your eyes and throw an insult at him, but you just tightened your lips and looked away.

“Look, k- sweetheart,” he stopped himself from calling you a kid. From what he saw on the stage earlier, you were already so much better than he was. “I’m going to be honest, alright? And you better damn well appreciate it, because I’m never honest.”

You giggled softly. He walked to stand in front of you at the desk.

“I think you’re great,” he stated, “And I think you’re beautiful, and sexy. And…”

He hesitated, thinking of whether or not to continue.

Fuck it. He might as well.

“And I like you,” he forced out, “More than you know. Fuck, I like you. I like you so much it fucking hurts sometimes.”

You looked up at him with hopeful, glistening eyes.

“But I’m no good for you,” he repeated what he said all those months ago, “I can never do what you just did. Start a fucking charity on your birthday and announce it to the world as if it was nothing. Fuck, I don’t think I should even be seen walking around next to you when you look like that. I’m a fucking mess, sweetie. You don’t want that.”

He saw as you digest what he had just said. Then, you looked up at him and asked, “What do you think I want?”

“What do I think?” he repeated.

You nodded.

“I think you should be with someone who’s closer to your age, for one,” he rolled his eyes, “And someone who doesn’t have scars all over their face. Someone who isn’t grouchy. Someone charming who can stand next to you on stage wearing a proper suit and tie.”

“You’re right,” you nodded, “I should be with someone like that.”

Jason felt a pang in his chest at your agreement.

“But I don’t want to be with someone like that,” you continued, “I want to be with someone who was ready to hunt down and hurt the people who terrorized me for years. I want to be with someone whose face is littered with scars as proof that they went through just as much shit as I did and survived.”

You hopped from the desk and stood up straight, stretching your hand up to cup Jason’s face. He leaned into the warmth of your caress, his breath hitching at the close contact. His hands automatically went to rest on your waist, still respectfully high.

“I want you, Jason,” you whispered, pulling him down to your lips, “I want someone who can handle my bites.”

To demonstrate, you sucked in his lower lip, eliciting a low moan from him.

And then you bit down hard.

He gasped at the stinging pain, and then sighed when you massaged his lip with yours. Heat suddenly spread throughout his body, particularly at his member which was growing hard fast. He could smell the wine on your breath that you must have snuck a few sips from, the vanilla lotion you always wore, and a new particularly enticing perfume that you must have gotten for the occasion.

“I want someone who can call me a little bitch straight to my face,” Jason felt you grin against his lips.

The two of you were kissing now, harsh and forceful, as if deprived of touch. Fuck, he loved how you were nipping at his lips and his tongue, tugging his hair lightly.

Both of you gasped for air, and just stood there foreheads against each other, his erection pressed against your stomach, your hands around his neck.

“I want someone who is resourceful enough to enhance his home security to make sure I don’t break in and fuck myself with his weapons again,” you chuckled.

“Was it…” he started, “Was it loaded?”

“You bet it was,” you smiled.

“Fuck,” he swore and then crashed his lips against yours again. He lifted you up to sit on the desk, and then stood in between your open thighs. At the slightly elevated level, he could properly grind his erection against your pussy, still covered by your dress.

“You liked that?” you giggled, “I thought you weren’t into that. I got a bit worried.”

“Hell yeah, I liked that,” he rasped, “What kind of sane man wouldn’t?”

He started to nibble on the skin on your neck, sucking and biting and licking

“I’m pretty sure not everyone is into the thought of fucking a loaded gun into a pussy,” you laughed, “Which proves my point. You and me? We’re perfect, Jay- fuck, don’t leave any marks, dumbass.”

“Point taken, baby.”

“Mmm, call me that again,” you moaned.

He stopped nibbling on your neck, brought his eyes to yours, and with a defiant smirk, he said, “No.”

It was like Jason saw the switch in you flick on, because you suddenly pushed him away aggressively. He stumbled, not expecting it.

“Oh, you think you’re in control, Todd?” you purred, twisting your fists in his leather jacket. You were shorter than him, and your frame much smaller. But Jason just loved the authority that radiated from you.

“You think you’re the one who has power over me?” you drawled, pulling him to the side where Bruce had set up a leather sofa and a coffee table.

“When all this while, I’m the one who had you wrapped around my finger?” you snarled, and then pushed him down on the sofa.

Before Jason could even register what was happening, you were already on top of him, straddling him. He looked up at you, the pressure of your weight on his crotch making him pant with want.

“So are you going to call me baby again?” you asked sweetly, tugging at his jacket to remove it.

“Maybe in due time,” he gasped when you bit the flesh that connected his neck and shoulder hard.

Fuck, he was throbbing in his pants.

You took off his shirt and ran your hand down his body. Jason smirked when he saw you bite your lip as you took in his figure.

He still had a bit of fight left in him, and he wasn’t going to beg.

Yet.

“Why must you be so stubborn, Todd?” you breathed, teeth catching at his earlobe and biting. You were rocking your hips against his erection, and he swore that if you didn’t take it out, he was going to rip a hole in his pants with it.

“H-hey, you’ve always been the pushy one,” he stuttered.

“That’s because I like to get what I want,” you pinched his nipples hard.

“Fuck!” he yelped at the sudden pain, and then glared at you as you just grinned cheekily. “I don’t know why I never took you for a sadist before this.”

“Because you’re an idiot, Jay,” you teased, “All I did was torture you.”

“Yes, you did,” he rested his hands on your hips, motioning for you to grind on him harder, “You made me so fucking hard on purpose, and then I had to go back and jerk off to you, which made it worse because I felt so fucking guilty after.”

“That was your own fault,” you frowned. You were finally, finally unbuckling his belt. “You saw me as a kid when I wasn’t.”

“You were still underaged, you brat,” he laughed, “It didn’t matter if you were wise beyond your years- ah, fuck yeah.”

You had finally unzipped him, releasing him from the constraints of his denim.

“Take everything off for me, Jay,” you demanded, sitting up on your knees to give him room to do so.

He listened to you happily, glad to be rid of his clothes. His cock slapped against his lower abdomen, already leaking so much precum.

“Why am I the only one naked?” he voiced out his displeasure.

“Because it took me twenty minutes to get into this dress, and I’m not undressing for anyone before the night is over,” you announced.

“But, baby,” he pouted, rejoicing at how he made your breath hitch, and rested his chin between your breasts, “I want to see your tits.”

You frowned and bit your lip as you looked down at him, considering his plea. He made a mental reminder that you must like dirty talk.

“Then make sure you don’t go home so early tonight,” you managed to choke out.

Jason thought that you also must have liked to be the submissive one, as well.

You leaned into him and kissed him again, this time less rough. He moaned into your mouth, slipping his tongue in as he grabbed your hips and tried to rub his cock against your pussy, underneath your dress. He gasped when he felt that you were already bare, and leaking.

“What happened to your- your panties?” he rasped.

“Long gone,” you winked.

“Fuck, you fucking nymph,” he chuckled, and then groaned when you started to slide the head of his cock between your wet lips.

“Jason, I’ve wanted your cock so bad,” you muttered into his ear as you rubbed your slick all over his length, “You’ve no idea how many times I’ve fucked myself with- with whatever I could find, pretending it was you.”

“Fuck, baby,” he whined, throwing his head back against the couch. Your dirty mouth was doing so many things to him, he was worried that he was going to come right there and then.

“After that time I sucked you off?” you continued, “All I wanted was to choke on it, Jay. I just want your dick in my throat.”

You lifted your hips and sank down onto him. Both of you groaned lowly in pleasure. Fuck, you were so tight, and warm, and wet, and oh so soft.

“Ah! Jason!” you cried out when he bottomed out, “Fuck, I’m going to feel you for fucking days.”

“Shit, baby,” he choked, “Baby, please. Please, move.”

“You want me to move?” you teased.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“How would you like me to move, Jay?” you smiled.

“Any- I don’t care-”

“Nice, and slow like this?” you lifted your hips up, and Jason could feel the torturously slow drag of your walls against his shaft, even as you sanked back down you were slow.

“Hnng- fuck-” Jason mewled, lost for words. “Please.”

It was all he could say.

“Or hard and fast like this?” you slammed your hips down, and started bouncing on his cock at a brutal pace that knocked his breath out.

“Fuck!” he yelled, “Fuck, baby, fuck!”

You weren’t being any softer as well. Through tear-filled hazy eyes, Jason saw your eyes fluttered close in pleasure, your mouth falling open as you cried out wanton moans, and gasped, and groaned for him.

“Jason! Fuck, Jay, fuck!”

He couldn’t take it anymore.

He gripped your hips hard, and then started to fuck himself up into you, matching your pace, making you fucking scream.

He could feel your walls tighten around his cock, the same time you started whining, “Jason, Jason, I’m gonna- I’m gonna-”

“Me too, sweetheart, me too,” he gasped.

“Come inside me, Jason, please!” you sobbed.

“But-”

“Just- just- please, please, please,” you squeezed your eyes shut and threw your head back.

Jason felt your pussy clench tight onto him, triggering his own orgasm. He released inside you while still fucking you hard, trying to prolong both of your highs.

Soon, he was oversensitive, the feeling of your walls almost painful. You calmed down, still panting above him, and he just couldn’t help but stare at you in amazement.

“Holy shit,” you giggled above him, “Holy shit, that was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“Uh- I,” he panicked, “I came inside of you, fuck!”

“I’m on the pill, don’t worry,” you smiled, “Fuck, I just. I just wanted to walk around after this with my panties soaked in your cum.”

“How the fuck are you eighteen and already so fucking kinky,” he groaned.

You only laughed and slowly lifted yourself off of him. He hissed at the movement, feeling hypersensitive at every touch.

You went to look for your panties, which Jason noticed were a lacy black, and then put them on under your dress.

He was still sprawled out on the sofa naked, sweaty, and well spent.

“I also didn’t want any of your spunk to get on my dress,” you told him.

“S’pretty dress,” he mumbled back to you.

“You should get dressed, Jay,” you walked towards him, hands on your hips.

“Do I need to get back out there?” he complained, “Can’t I just wait in your room?”

“If you get dressed and attend the party, I’ll let you fuck me with one of your guns,” you promised.

“Really?” his eyes widen, and then he jumped back up to put on his clothes.

“I gotta tell you something, though,” you started.

“What is it?” he hummed, tucking his black shirt into his jeans.

“The safety was on,” you said, “On the gun, I mean. It was loaded, but the safety was on.”

“Oh, baby,” he looked at you seriously, “If you told me the safety was off, I would have shot you myself for being so stupid.”

You giggled.

He gave you his arm. “Shall we?”

“Yes, we shall,” you took it. “By the way.”

“What?”

“Are you going to switch back to a more lax security?”

“And have you breaking in again? You wish, kid.”

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grimae · 2 years

Note

I follow you, for a while, for your original fantasy art (incredible stuff by the way) and just because you answered that anon about your tag that I've come to know the weird overlap in our experiences, I also have been writing/daydreaming about my own fantasy world since I was ten and I also have a google doc filled with lore. Being your own lore master is so hard sometimes, but I've found organization is the key for me, do you have any methods that make it easier for you to find/remember stuff?

Sup! Thank you so much first of all! For the greatest part in my life I kept literally everything stashed away in my brain. Only in late 2018, early 2019, I started actually writing things down. Can't remember anymore how it started, but I made a world-building discord server with a dear friend and just dropped everything in there that had some kind of relevancy, also actually starting to write down my thoughts about my characters. At one point I realized that it had become way too much so I copy pasted everything into a google doc file just to see how much. That specific google doc is now my exposition dump doc, it's where I throw in every single thought only to have it securely stashed away. I then later started writing individual docs on things I needed to have sorted. How dragons work, Sacrosanct creatures, vampire lore, alchemy, magic, some general world-building thoughts, etc etc. There was an honest desperate need for that too, because with the current five-trillion pages, the doc needs literal ages to load, lags and slows down my PC like hell. I made a list of all my characters with some basic and more or less important information, such as how many languages they speak, when their birthdays are, their heights and physical ages, if vampire. And to accompany that, a big damn relationship sheet that is a mess to look through because it doesn't take in account that literally over 1600 years happen between all these characters, so I don't share it unless I know people have a general gist of the lore and can fill that temporal hole themself.

Later I made my own discord server, with only me, for general safekeeping of all kinds of informations.

That is how I sort things in there. I still throw everything important into the old one with my friend though, it's just that I got kinda self-conscious about how much I jump from point A to C with no coherence for anyone but me and wanted to start sorting things first to make it understandable, lol. The skindarimian-exposition-dump channel is here where I write down every single thought, then I drop it into the google doc every end of the month. Discord has this little perfect trait that I can very easily access it from all my devices. Can't tell you how often I woke up at 2 am and my first grab was for my phone because I had a thought I needed to write down. So yeah I guess my way of keeping track is a very thorough amount of google docs, a discord server (or two), and backups of all that saved on my PC. It's honestly so much more messy than I want it to be but for the last three years, almost four, this mess has been well lived in.

Btw, the daily channel used to be a challenge where in 2021 I wrote down a little thing every day. A try at a poem, a short story, etc. 2021 was successfully finished with only a few days skipped. I wanted to drag it into this year as well but around February my brain got too clouded for another thing I had to do daily so I stopped. The google-docs channel is just links to all the docs. Rewrites is me noting down things I have to rewrite or thoughts on how to organize. Bots is Book of the Sun relating stuff.

#ask #anonymous

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telli1206 · 3 years

Note

I’m pretty sure I haven’t asked yet but if I did then ignore this lol😂

1, 5, 16, 19, 20, 23, 28, 36, 45

-ShiroxKeith

Nope, this is the first ask I've seen from you, @shiroxkeith! Thanks, these should be fun 😁

By the way, I'm assuming Jaylos here, but let me know if I'm wrong and I need to do these again 😂

-----

1. Who is the early bird/ Who is the night owl?

Carlos is the night owl. He loves studying late into the night, when the school is quietest and it's the easiest for him to focus. He'll often stay in the library until it closes, and then finish his work huddled under his desk lamp in his room so as not to disturb Jay sleeping.

Jay is definitely the early bird, especially on the weekends when he likes to go for long runs. He's always done and showered and clean before Carlos even stirs. But he never eats without Carlos, a habit he picked up on the Isle when he was always making sure the boy had enough food, since he knew his mother never did. So he likes to crawl back into bed even though he's dressed and ready to go, cuddling up to Carlos and enoying the extra snuggles before they have to get up and start their day.

5. Who usually has nightmares?

Carlos. Jay had it tough on the Isle, but Cruella was much more mentally traumatizing than Jafar. Carlos' fear that he might have to go back to her, or even worse, that she'd come for him, haunted him constantly for the first few months in Auradon. It was so bad that Ben ended up getting the doctors to prescribe Carlos a sleep aide to help him. But even that wasn't enough unless Jay wasn't there to hold him close and reassure him that he was safe and Cruella wasn't coming. Ever.

16. Who is scared of thunderstorms?

Jay. Carlos is more used to the sound of thunderstorms from his nights spent in his treehouse on the Isle hiding from his mother. But loud thunderstorms always manage to rattle Jay and rip him out of the deepest sleep. The only thing soothing enough to help him relax through a storm is having Carlos lay behind him and constantly drag his fingers through Jay's hair so he can easily fall back asleep each time he's woken.

19. Who loves to call the other one cute names?

Jay. Cutesy little nicknames spoken in public always manage to fluster Carlos, and a flustered Carlos is Jay's favorite thing. It's a challenge every day to him to see how red he can make Carlos get. Carlos is very used to and comfortable with Pup and Baby now, so Jay doesn't use them as often as he used to, instead choosing to try new and different names each time to shock and surprise Carlos. But he got such a great reaction the first time he called Carlos Sweet Cheeks (Carlos turned beet fucking red and ended up having to bury his face in Jay's shoulder all through lunch to fight down the blush) that almost ALL of his nicknames tend to be ass-related now.

20. Who is dominant/ Who is submissive?

Jay is naturally the dominant one, and in almost every situation Carlos is more than happy to submit to Jay and let him take control. But every once in a while, when Carlos feels particularly insecure, Jay likes to let him take control, so Carlos can see and be reassured that Jay loves him and is willing to let Carlos be in control whenever he wants to be.

23. Who asks who out on the first date?

Carlos tried to once on the Isle, but he failed spectacularly. Jay didn't understand at all what Carlos was asking, since dating really isn't a normal thing on the Isle. Evie had to finally take Jay aside and explain what happened as sweetly as possible when Carlos got upset and ran off. It took a while for him to finally understand why Jay didn't get what he had asked and accept Jay's apology. Still, Jay didn't quite get the whole dating thing, and they didn't have a proper date until they got to Auradon and Jay was finally able to see what the hype was about. It was then that Jay showed up at their dorm one day with a handful of red roses (after Evie snatched away the yellow ones Jay had grabbed, groaning something about "friendship" and insisting only red was the right color to use) and a formal ask that Carlos accepted that they were able to go on their first date.

28. Who is the book worm?

Carlos. Most definitely. And he's not ashamed of it at all. The selection of books on the Isle was slim and all of the decent ones from Auradon were extremely damaged and difficult to decipher. He was completely and utterly obsessed with the library from the moment he saw it, and he's still excited every day to get as many books as possible every visit and read as much as he can handle late into the night, every single night.

36. Who is the social media addict?

Jay. He's a tourney star, so he's more than happy to oblige all of his classmates, fans and friends that want to see everything that happens in his life. With his own filter, of course, so that everything he posts looks perfect and wonderful. Enter Carlos, who eventually decides that the world needs to see the real Jay (which he thinks is amazing, by the way), so he creates an "exposing the real Jay" social media account that gives a behind the scenes look at all of the prep and preparation that goes into each of Jay's posts. Jay's definitely a little pissed at first when he sees what Carlos has done, but eventually he sees how fun it is to comment and duet Carlos' posts so they can banter and joke back and forth about it.

45. Who is more likely to get drunk?

Jay gets drunk more often, because he's always enjoyed drinking socially. Carlos only gets drunk once in a while, but it's usually because he doesn't understand his own tolerance as well as Jay does. Drunk Carlos is impossibly adorable though, so Jay usually has no problem when that happens. Carlos is a very affectionate, cuddly drunk, and Jay is always happy to take as much of that as he can get. He just needs to watch out for the stumbling clumsiness that comes along with drunk Carlos, too. Or his ability to blindly follow puppies and kittens everywhere, that only gets worse with every single drink Carlos has.

#jaylos #jay son of jafar #carlos de vil #jay x carlos #descendants #ask prompt #jaylos headcanons #writing prompts #my writing

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late-to-the-party-81 · 3 years

Text

La Luna (2)

AN: Hi all. I would apologise for leaving you with that cliff-hanger, but I'm not sorry.

Again, thanks to @lookiamtrying for the beta and @firefly-graphics for the divider.

The mood board is by me (still, lol) and credits to those who took the pictures.

As in part one, the dialogue prompt that makes this part of the #AllNew22 challenge by me and @yarnforbrains is in bold.

Please check out my master list

Note - dialogue in italics indicates characters are talking in French. Dialogue in normal font is in English. Other italicised words are to show emphasis.

Word count: 3k

Pairing: Pre-Serum Artist! Steve/ Pre-Serum Writer Bucky.

CW: Age gap (Bucky early-mid 20's, Steve late 20's/early 30's), love at first sight, fast burn, implied sexual content, idiots in love.

MINORS DNI

It had been the beginning of October when Bucky had fled Marseille, fled from Steve’s love, scared of what it all meant. Steve hadn’t said it outright, but as soon as the idea had been placed in Bucky’s mind it had been easy to identify how Steve had felt. It was obvious in how he cared for Bucky, how he made love to him. How he had drawn and painted him. Steve had made him laugh, made him feel safe. Bucky had felt like he belonged.

He’d never believed in love at first sight before. He’d seen too many failed relationships, from his parents to his peers for that to have faith in that fairy-tale. But Steve had changed all that. From the moment they had bumped into each other on the seafront Bucky had known this was more than simple physical attraction, but hadn’t been able to fathom it.

It was December now, the year drawing to a close. Two months had passed, with Bucky having fled along the coast, ending up in Monaco, before travelling over northern Italy; Genoa, Turin and Milan. From Milan he’d taken the train into Switzerland, with a short stay in Liechtenstein. He was now back in Geneva, standing at the train station and facing a choice.

It hadn’t taken Bucky long to realise that leaving had been a huge mistake. He loved Steve. And he believed that Steve loved him. He should have stayed. Should have said something. Should have taken a risk. Now he had to decide what to do. He could travel northwest, back to Paris and Charles de Gaulle, finish his trip where he had started, and be back home, in Brooklyn, for Christmas. Or, he could follow what his heart was telling him, head south, back to Marseille. Apologise to Steve for leaving him like that, and hope that the older man would forgive him.

He worried at his lower lip with his teeth. He’d been doing that often lately that the flesh was sore and inflamed, making anyone who saw him think that he had been thoroughly kissed, which couldn’t have been further from the truth.

The departure boards updated on the screen in front of him, lessening the time in which he had to make a decision. Head or heart? Heart or head? His hand went to his back pocket, and drew out a folded piece of paper, dog-eared and delicate from having been flattened out and re-folded multiple times. He opened it up and looked at the marks upon it. Then, having returned it to his pocket, Bucky hitched his backpack higher up onto his shoulder and made a decision.

Four and a half hours later the train pulled into the station. The sky was cold and grey, so different to that clear night three months ago. Had he made the right decision, returning to Marseille? Bucky shook his head, trying to order his thoughts. It had to be. When he thought of home, he thought more of Steve’s tiny apartment than his mother’s eminently more spacious one in Brooklyn. The full moon was trying desperately to break through the cloud cover and he turned his face towards it, as if it’s beams could soothe him.

His feet led him the route through the small winding streets to the door to the apartments. He stood, staring at the peeling paintwork on the wood as he took in a deep breath and let it out. Once. Twice. His finger shook as he pressed it against the buzzer for Steve’s apartment. He waited for a minute, and then pressed it again. There was still no answer. It was 2pm, and it was unlikely Steve had gone out for lunch. Bucky looked at the buzzer and noticed that the slip of paper, that had once displayed Rogers, was no longer in the slot for the apartment. He felt panic start to take hold in his chest as he pressed the buzzer a third time, holding it down. Nothing. He didn’t want to believe it. Steve couldn’t have left, could he?

Spinning on his heel, Bucky made his way towards the café. The pavements were quiet, but he was relieved to see the lights on inside the familiar building. There were only a few patrons inside, and as he walked through the doorway Marie spotted him straight away.

“Bucky, oh my god!”

She rushed forward and drew him tightly into her embrace, before pushing him back slightly and taking his face in her hands, studying him.

“It’s really you! You’re back!”

Bucky gave her a weak smile and she dragged him over to one of the free tables, pressing him into the seat.

“Where have you been?”

“Italy, Switzerland. I…fuck…I had to get away.”

Marie glared as she pushed a glass of white wine towards him.

“You broke his heart, Bucky. He came down here, banging on the back door at 7am, asking if we knew where you were. And his face when he realised we didn’t. I don’t know how he didn’t just collapse.”

“I feel like such an ass.”

“Good! You acted like one!”

Bucky sighed, his finger tracing patterns in the pool of condensation on the wood.

“I was scared. I realised you were right and that he loved me. He painted me, Marie. And it was so much more than the sketch I showed you. It all felt too much too soon.”

“And?”

“And I realised I loved him too. That’s what scared me the most. I’m 24, 25 in a couple of months. What have I experienced of life compared to him?”

“And you couldn’t experience it with him? See where this would take you both? Pah! Americans! Always running away from the passions that drive you! You two are as bad as each other.”

“What happened Marie? Where has he gone?”

“He moped around for a month. Mainly shut up at home, but everyday, he’d come and sit outside here for an hour, just in case you returned I guess. Splattered in paint, staring out at the sea. Then, about three weeks ago, he comes in, tells us he’s leaving Marseille, and the next day he was gone.”

“He didn’t say where he was going?”

“No, I’m afraid not.”

“Well that’s it then. I made a mistake. Maybe the biggest mistake of my life. What am I gonna do Marie?”

“You’re going to put those bags down, take off that jacket and get yourself back to that sink and apologise to Michel for leaving him in the lurch. And then, when we’ve done for the night you can sleep on our sofa and start the day afresh tomorrow.”

Bucky pulled her into his arms, desperately trying to hold back tears as all his emotions started to overwhelm him.

“Thank you Marie, thank you”

The older woman patted him on the back affectionately.

“Put me down, child, and get to work”

Bucky had made it back to Brooklyn in mid December. He’d stayed with Michel and Marie for a week, trying to compose himself and saying goodbye to a place that’d he’d never forget. He had stood by the harbour wall, looking out towards Les Îles, and said everything that was in his heart to Steve, as if he were standing next him. Trying not to weep, he’d made his way to the station, and then direct back to Paris and the first flight back to New York.

His mother and sister had welcomed him back with open arms, and he’d tried his best to be jovial. He showed them pictures of his travels, but wasn’t able to get out of giving them some explanation as to why he had stayed so long in the south of France. He spun it as part holiday romance, part love for the actual place itself. Just an experience whilst on his adventure. His mother may have been satisfied with that explanation, but he could tell that his sister Becca was not. So on Christmas Eve, he’d snuck into her room, and they’d curled up on the bed together, as they had done as children, and he’d told her his sorry tale of love and fear and mistakes, and she’d held him as he cried.

The festive period passed and as January began Bucky had to bite the bullet and find a job. He had a few ideas rattling around for a story, but he needed to build himself up a bit of a buffer, and he wanted to get his own place. As much as he loved his mother, he’d had a taste of independent living, and wanted it back as soon as he could. He took a job at a small coffee shop, not far from Columbus Park. His experience at the café with Michel and Marie had elevated him in the eyes of the manager, and was given as many shifts as he wanted, and at a higher rate of pay if he took on the deputy manager duties. Bucky gladly accepted. It kept him occupied, and it meant that he would be able to save up quicker.

The days passed in a flurry of flat whites, cappuccinos and skinny decaff lattes. He went home so tired that he barely had time to think about Steve and how he had managed to mess his life up, before he was drifting into deep sleep. But some nights, Steve invaded his dreams. Kissed him sweetly, told him how much he loved him, and made love to him, leaving Bucky to awaken, aching and alone.

As the end of the month drew closer, Bucky started to notice something rather odd. Customers were starting to give him strange looks. He caught one or two staring at him, before they quickly turned away. He kept checking his reflection on any surface he could. Did he have a zit? Food caught between his teeth? Was his hair sticking up in a comedy fashion? He couldn’t work out what was going on.

Friday evening, four pm and it was dark outside, but there were still a few hours to go before he and his two co-workers could finish up for the night. The sidewalk outside was starting to fill up as people began to finish work for the day, and despite the time of year, there were still tourists, this was New York after all. He was tired, and grumpy and still feeling self-conscious when a young woman, probably late teens, came up to him, twisting the cuffs of her oversized sweater in her hands whilst her friends watched her, eagle-eyed from their table by the window. Bucky put on his best ‘customer’ smile as she approached.

“What can I get you, miss?”

“Erm, um, I, er, we, yeah, we wanted to know…areyouamodel?”

The question came out all in a rush.

“Pardon?”

“Are you a model?”

“Erm, no. Why do you ask?”

“Well, so we were down at the art gallery, we’re art majors at NYU, and there’s like this new exhibition from this great painter and lots of his paintings have a guy in, who looks just like you. And I told my friends it couldn’t be you, as these paintings were done in France, although the artist is from here and…”

Bucky didn’t hear the rest. He whirled away from the counter, snatching his apron over his head and throwing it and the shop keys at his closest colleague.

“Sorry, gotta go, emergency. You lock up, yeah?”

He grabbed his coat from the staff area and bolted out the door as they all looked at him in surprise. He ran down the sidewalk, dodging past people in the ever-thickening crowd, all of whom appeared to be going in the opposite direction as him.

“C’mon, c’mon!” He didn’t care if his muttering came out too loud as he wove in and out of the flow. Then he was there, pulling himself up to a stop, staring at the sign outside the art gallery.

Memories of Marseille: An Exhibition by S.G.Rogers

Next to the words was a small image of one of the paintings. Bucky, sat on the bed, book in hand, bare chested.

Bucky grabbed the railing for support, head spinning as he struggled to draw breath into his lungs. He made his way up the steps on wobbly legs, barely noticing the staff who looked at him with wide eyes, turning back and forth between him and the pamphlets that contained information about the paintings.

There he was, leaning against the wall at Fort de Ratonneau, then here, a view of his back as he leant over the harbour wall, the rest of the image made up of boats bobbing on the water. Next, a close up study of a man’s back, sheets draped across his buttocks and tangling around his legs. And there, on the main wall, that painting, of Bucky smiling coyly as he relaxed with his book, painted with love and reverence.

Bucky felt tears gather in his eyes and he took a step backwards, jostling into someone.

“I’m so sorry, I…”

“You know, you really ought to start looking where you are going.”

He spun, jaw dropping, before he pulled the smaller man into his arms.

“Steve! It’s really you! It’s really you!”

“It’s really me Buck.”

He buried his head into Steve’s neck, no longer able to hold back his tears.

“I’m so sorry, I was so stupid and immature and scared and…”

He felt Steve stroking his hair.

“It’s okay doll, it’s okay.”

“I came back and you’d gone and I realised I’d fucked up.”

“Shhh, shhh, let’s get out of here, okay? We’re causing quite a scene.”

Bucky lifted his head, wiping the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand, and going bright red as he noticed the eyes of the staff and patrons alike staring at the pair of them. Steve intertwined their fingers together, bringing Bucky’s hand up to his mouth and placing a kiss on his knuckles, and led him out into the cold January air. He quickly hailed a cab, bundling Bucky inside it, holding the younger man to his chest the whole journey, as if to ensure he wouldn’t disappear into the ether.

“Missed you, Buck. Missed you so goddamn much. I couldn’t believe it when I woke up that morning and you just weren’t there. What did I do? Did I hurt you in some way?”

“Oh god Steve, nothing like that! I…I worked out how you felt and…and it terrified me.”

Steve let out one of deep chuckles.

“My love terrified you? I’m that scary?”

“No, you punk. I was terrified because we hadn’t known each other long, because I’m so much younger than you and…and because I didn’t want to admit that I loved...love…you too. It felt too much, too fast, and I was an idiot for running instead of talking to you.”

Steve pressed a chaste kiss to Bucky’s lips before they both settled back into silence as the cabbie negotiated the Friday rush traffic, Steve running his fingers through Bucky’s hair. The car pulled up outside a brownstone and they got out, Steve thrusting over a handful of bills. He took Bucky’s hand again, and led him up the steps, and, like their first time together, stopped on the top step, bringing himself level with Bucky, before taking his face in his hands and kissing him sweetly. Bucky held on, opening his mouth to let Steve in and poured his love into the kiss.

They continued to kiss as Steve opened the door, and led them up more stairs on the inside. They shed their coats and tumbled down onto the bed together, arms and legs tangled, holding each other tight.

“I couldn’t get you out of my head, Bucky. Each image of you begged to be painted. If I couldn’t tell you that I loved you, I could tell the rest of the world. And I suppose that part of me hoped that you’d come home to Brooklyn, or would eventually, and that if I put my exhibition here you’d find out. That you’d find me again.”

“Well it worked. I’ve had people staring at me at work for days. Now I know why.”

Steve smiled, and pressed kisses to Bucky’s jaw.

“Ok, new rule, from now on, you won’t ever leave like that again. If you get worried, or scared you’ll talk to me, yes?”

“I promise Steve. I promise I’m not going anywhere. Now, please, make love to me.”

The only further words spoken were soft ones of love and praise and encouragement.

The full moon came out from behind a cloud, shone through the window and bathed them in it’s light.

Fin

Taglist:@christywantspizza@jobean12-blog@tinnedowl@bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky@tuiccim@beelicious-barnes@sidepartskinnyjeans@maladaptivexxdaydreaming@krissy25

#stucky #marvel #pre serum steve #pre-serum bucky #pre-serum stucky #stucky fluff #stucky smut #stucky angst #late writes #late to the party 81 #allnew22

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swan-of-sunrise · 3 years

Text

Spellbinding (Chapter Fourteen)

Summary: While dealing with a surprising new development in their relationship, Loki and (Y/N) are stuck in the middle of an explosive feud between Steve and Tony.

Pairing: Loki X Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: I’d call this a filler chapter but I absolutely love writing about the Avengers as a whole! I also thought we needed a little break from the plot for some team bonding before things get too crazy lol I hope that you enjoy!

Chapter Fourteen November 22nd, 2015 Avengers Tower, New York City (Previous Chapter)

“You read this book when you were how old?”

(Y/N) smiled mischievously and turned her attention back to reorganizing her closet. “I was seven. I checked it out from the library without telling my Aunt Evelyn and read it late at night; I couldn’t sleep without my nightlight on for months afterwards but I’m glad I read it, since it’s a literary classic and everything.”

Loki let out a half-laugh and turned the page of his book. “Well, if we’re ever blessed with children, I think we should wait until they’re at least twelve to introduce them to Dracula. Perhaps even fourteen.”

“Children?”

In an instant, Loki froze and it dawned on him what he’d accidentally said. (Y/N) was also frozen, her arm still extended to grab a hangar from inside the closet. “I-I…I just meant…I’d like to…” Loki cleared his unusually tight throat. “I, ah, wouldn’t mind having…you know, children. Someday. With…with you.” Dammit, I’ve made a mess of things again, Loki inwardly groaned.

They’d only been together for a little over four months and it was much, much too early in their relationship to bring about the subject of children. But after he acknowledged his love for (Y/N), it was challenging for Loki to envision a future without her in it and lately, the idea of a more permanent future with the woman he loved was all he could think about. He knew that his girlfriend liked children; back when she still worked at the New York Public Library, he’d fondly watch her helping them with their homework or reading to them and since officially becoming the Cosmic Sorceress, she’d visited the children’s ward at the nearby hospital once a week to cheer up the young patients. And despite what others might believe, Loki also liked children and the thought of being a father one day – while admittedly a little nerve-wracking – was not an unwelcome one.

Just as (Y/N), with her (Y/E/C) eyes widened in shock, opened her mouth to reply, there came the sounds of voices shouting angrily from the common room down the hall. In an instant, Loki and (Y/N) summoned their magic into the palms of their hands before sprinting out of her suite and down the hallway.

Steve and Tony stood on either sides of the common room and were fully engaged in a blazing argument by the time Loki and (Y/N) arrived. Skidding to a stop beside (Y/N), Loki’s first thought was that he’d never seen either man as angry as they were now, even during the Battle of New York.

“Because you flat-out refused to listen when I said to wait, three S.H.I.E.L.D. agents are at the hospital in critical condition!” Tony yelled.

Steve stepped closer and shouted back, “And if I hadn’t acted when I did, an entire apartment complex would’ve been demolished anyway and dozens of people would be dead! Those agents would be fine right now if you hadn’t hesitated to use your scanners!”

“You mean, if I hadn’t stopped to think the situation through?!”

“You’re acting like a civilian, Stark, not a soldier! Our job is to make the tough decisions as quickly as we can for the benefit of the whole, we don’t have the luxury of holding committees for every choice we make!”

“Bullshit, it’s better to weigh options instead of barreling in without a plan; that’s what you’re best at, though, isn’t it? If you hadn’t made the dumb-ass decision to crash that plane in ‘45, you and Carter-”

Before Tony could finish his sentence, Steve landed a punch on his jaw that sent him staggering backwards. Tony quickly surged forward to retaliate, but Loki used his magic to halt his movement while (Y/N) used hers to stop Steve. “Enough!” They dissolved their magic and with matching looks of contempt, both Steve and Tony turned and stormed away, leaving Loki and (Y/N) to gape at each other in shock.

“Yeah, that was a continuation of what happened on the Quinjet.” They turned and watched Bruce step out of the elevator with a weary expression on his face. “I’ll explain everything to you both, but can we do it in private? The rest of the team’s at each other’s throats and I don’t want all the fighting to accidentally trigger the Big Guy…”

After leading the scientist into (Y/N)’s suite and subtly lighting one of her calming lavender-scented candles, Loki sat beside his girlfriend on the sofa and listened as Bruce talked. “This arms dealer was holding an entire apartment building in Luxembourg hostage, said he’d blow the place up if his demands for more guns weren’t met. Fury sent Steve, Tony, Bucky and Clint this morning; the plan was to surround the building and find a way in before going after the guy, but he decided he didn’t want to wait any longer and turned an automatic timer on for the explosives. Cap sent the other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents in to clear the building and Tony said to wait for the agents to give word before ordering Bucky to take the shot, but Steve didn’t listen. Bucky took the shot, got the guy, but the explosives still went off.” Loki and (Y/N) exchanged looks of confusion, and Bruce continued. “There was a pressure timer hidden in his hand, they call it a dead man’s switch; Tony scanned and saw it at the last second, but Steve was already giving the order to Bucky.” Bruce started pacing as he ran a hand through his hair. “It’s like a civil war; Clint and Nat are taking Tony’s side, they think Steve could’ve waited a little longer, and Sam and Bucky are on Cap’s side.” He snorted in derision. “Thanksgiving dinner should be a blast this year.”

(Y/N) nodded, a saddened expression on her face, but Loki furrowed his brow. “Thanksgiving? You host a dinner of thanks on Midgard?”

“I’ll explain it to you later.” She flashed him a brief smile before returning her concerned gaze to Bruce. “Is there anything we can do?”

“You both should probably just stay out of it; they might come around faster if they see that you’re neutral in all this.” The scientist walked to the door. “I’d better go down and talk to Fury, so I’ll see you guys later.”

Once Bruce closed the door behind him, (Y/N) threw herself back against the cushions of the couch and sighed. “How could something like this have even happened? We’ve been such a strong team these past few months and now…”

“They’re both strong-willed men and stubborn in their own right, you know that. Each holds steadfast to their beliefs no matter the consequences; this is a trait of theirs I’ve both admired and admonished in all the time I’ve known them.” Loki admitted. “But Banner is correct, any attempt of ours to help may only worsen the situation for everyone.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Taking in (Y/N)’s troubled frown, Loki decided to try distracting her from their fighting teammates, laying down and resting his head in her lap so that he was staring up at her. “So, a feast of thanks sounds…quaint.”

As he’d hoped, she relaxed as she gave him a look of amusement and began running her fingers through his hair. “It’s more than that, silly. In America, it’s a day where we give thanks for our lives and the people in them. We sit around a table for dinner and let our loved ones know just what they mean to us, that we cherish and appreciate them, no matter any differences…we might…we might have…” (Y/N) trailed off, pausing a moment before gasping in excitement. “Loki, I think I may have either a brilliant plan or an insane one!”

“I know just what you have in mind, darling. Let’s go!” They both hurried to the living room closet and tugged on their coats and scarves; they had a long, long day of shopping ahead of them.

Although he’d acclimated fairly well to Midgard in the months since his arrival, one of the things Loki still utterly despised about the realm were its ‘grocery stores.’ They were crowded, lit by horrendous fluorescent lights and stocked to the brim with inedible, overpriced food; whenever he’d been asked to accompany one of his fellow Avengers on their shopping trips, he would come up with every excuse under the sun to decline their invitation. But he decided to put aside his displeasure for the benefit of his girlfriend and teammates, resigning himself to pushing the rickety metal shopping cart up and down the aisles as (Y/N) read off her hastily-written list.

Their shopping trip had gone far better than he’d imagined and in no time, they were carrying their bags into the lobby of the Avengers Tower.

“You know, we’re going to need an extra pair of hands to help us with the cooking on Thursday.” (Y/N) pointed out as they stepped into their team’s private elevator. “I’m not very good in the kitchen, as you already know, but I’ve always been able to bake pretty decent pies.”

Loki nodded. “All right, so who did you have in mind to help?”

At that moment, the elevator stopped and the doors opened to reveal the smiling face of his golden-haired brother. “Ah, there you are! The J.A.R.V.I.S. just informed me you had returned from your outing, was it productive?”

“…You could call it that.”

The tone of his girlfriend’s voice prompted Loki to glance over at her; she was looking from Thor to him, her eyebrows raised and a triumphant smile spreading across her face. Finally understanding her words, Loki’s smile morphed into a look of absolute horror. “Oh no, no, no, not him…!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Wait, you guys cooked all this? Without burning the kitchen down?”

Loki couldn’t help but give Bruce a pained look. “Believe me when I say that it was not for lack of trying, Doctor Banner.”

Since they wanted dinner to be a surprise, they’d prepared each dish in one of the kitchens used by the new S.H.I.E.L.D. organization; unfortunately, in their attempt to be secretive they were forced into cramped quarters with rather primitive kitchen appliances at their disposal. And to add to Loki’s growing list of responsibilities, he was forced to babysit the love of his life and his brother in order to prevent the dishes from being ruined by their absolute lack of culinary skills. More than once, he had to use his magic to protect the food he’d cooked from (Y/N)’s over-zealousness with the spices and at one point, he was forced to quickly talk Thor out of using his lightning to rapidly cook the turkey. Hopefully it’ll all have been worth it, Loki tiredly thought to himself.

As if in-tuned with Loki’s inner monologue, Bruce nervously adjusted the sleeves of his coat and replied, “Well, I hope this works and doesn’t just end up making everything worse.”

“You and I both, Doctor.” His eyes were drawn to the elevator as its doors opened, revealing (Y/N) and a cart filled with the feast they’d cooked, and he hurried over to meet her. “Everything’s going to plan so far, they think that it’s only the seven of us for dinner.”

With the help of Bruce, they went about setting the enormous table. “I just sent Thor to fetch Team Cap, so they should be here any minute.” Once they finished, (Y/N) removed her apron and smoothed out her skirt, her anxious expression softening a fraction as she turned to the two men. “Now we see if our brilliantly-insane plan will work.”

Loki had just enough time to lean down and press a reassuring kiss to his girlfriend’s forehead before the elevator doors once again slid open.

“Mmm, smells good in here!” Tony grinned, walking up to (Y/N) and handing her a bottle of wine. “I had Pepper ship one of my best labels over from Malibu for the occasion.”

Natasha did little to hide her amusement at his words. “You just couldn’t resist, could you? And you,” She turned to shoot Clint a glare. “If you don’t stop fidgeting, Barton, we’re going to have a problem.”

“I can’t help it, this stupid suit’s uncomfortable!” Clint grumbled; once Natasha returned her attention to the others, the archer rolled his eyes and whispered to Loki, “Damn straight jacket. (Y/N) forced you into one too, huh?”

“Yes, I-” The sight of Steve, Sam and Bucky entering the room behind Thor caused Loki’s words to die in his throat and as the others caught sight of them, he surreptitiously summoned his magic into his hands in case a fight broke out. Out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted Thor and Bruce exchanging weary looks.

Steve’s face was a mask as he stepped forward. “Stark.”

“Asshat.”

All Hel broke loose; Steve and Tony lunged towards one another, their struggling forms barely held back by Bucky and Clint. A cacophony of shouting quickly filled the room as both sides began arguing with each other, but just as Loki raised his arms to use his magic, (Y/N) calmly stepped forward and walked in between the warring groups. The shouting and struggling instantly stopped as they gawked at (Y/N), but she merely smiled warmly at them as she spoke. “Thank you all for coming to our Thanksgiving dinner, Loki and I are glad you were able to make it. Bruce mentioned that you usually don’t celebrate together, but this is my first Thanksgiving with you all and I wanted to mark the occasion with my new family…all of it.” Her words seemed to have their desired intent, as both Steve and Tony relaxed their stances and the others backed away from them. “Now, we should start eating before everything gets cold!”

Needless to say, dinner was a tense affair. Where there was usually the sounds of deafening chatter and laughter, there was quiet murmuring and stoic looks. Loki watched (Y/N) with equal amounts of admiration and sympathy as she tried her hardest to engage their teammates in conversation with one another and with each failed attempt, he could see a little more of her heart breaking. After learning the difficult truth about her parents and having lived so long without a family, (Y/N) deserved to have a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner with her friends. They all did, really. This has gone on long enough, Loki thought to himself as (Y/N) silently stared down at her plate; after a slight moment of hesitation, Loki got to his feet.

“I’ve done a fair amount of reading about this country’s Day of Thanks, and the custom of expressing what one is thankful for whilst surrounded by their loved ones piqued my interest. So, let’s begin.” Loki swallowed thickly, looking around the table at his teammates’ confused faces before settling on (Y/N)’s. “I’m thankful for you, darling. You came into my life at a time when I believed I could never be deserving of love and you showed me not only was I deserving, but that loving you would make me a better man. You’re the love of my life, and believe me when I say that all our lives have been blessed since meeting you.” Loki and (Y/N) shared a smile and as he turned back to address the others, he felt her take hold of his hand and squeeze. “And I know you may find this difficult to believe, but I am also thankful for all of you. When I first joined the Avengers, I was bitter and filled with resentment at the prospect of serving out my sentence on a planet I despised with people I despised even more. But after a short while, once we’d come to understand one another, you accepted me as your teammate and friend. Well, some of you more than others.” His eyes flicked to Tony, who hid his small smile behind his hand, and to Clint, who gave him a small shrug. “I value our kinship above all else and on this Day of Thanks, I implore you all to remember our bonds with one another. Severing those bonds on account of a petty disagreement is something you all will come to regret in the future; take it from me, I have firsthand experience in that particular department.” He and Thor shared a knowing look as he took a seat; although he wasn’t comfortable expressing his emotions so openly, the look of pride in his brother’s eyes had made it worth it.

The table was quiet for several moments, until Steve cleared his throat. “Well, I’m, ah…I’m thankful that after coming out of the ice to an unrecognizable world I was able to find such great friends and teammates in you all.” His azure eyes flicked hesitantly over to Tony. “We may not get along all the time or agree on everything, but that doesn’t mean we should allow ourselves to become divided.”

Tony’s face remained unchanged throughout Steve’s speech and when he got to his feet, Loki could practically hear the others’ sharp intakes of breath. The billionaire held Steve’s gaze for a heartbeat before offering him his hand over the table with his trademark smirk on his face. “Couldn’t have said it better myself, ‘Roid Rage.” The two men shook hands and the room almost instantly relaxed; Loki exchanged looks of triumph with his co-conspirators as dinner continued, satisfied that their plan had been successfully implemented.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Dinner was delicious, by the way.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, darling, though I’m not sure what the others thought of it.”

“Well, they were a little too distracted to hand out compliments on food, wouldn’t you say?”

The pair had decided to spend the night catching up on their reading but instead of utilizing the library, they had made themselves comfortable in Loki’s bed with their books and plenty of blankets. Loki sat up against the headboard, his legs stretched out across the mattress and his ankles crossed, and (Y/N) was leaning against his side, her head resting comfortable in the crook of his neck and her free arm holding Loki’s around her waist. They sat in comfortable silence as they read their own books, occasionally permeating the tranquil atmosphere with light conversation.

“Um, Loki?”

“Hmm?” Loki could feel (Y/N) shifting beside him, so he tore his eyes away from his book and watched as she marked her page and set her book down on the bedside table. Setting his own book aside, Loki adjusted himself so he could see her face better. “What is it?”

(Y/N) bit her lip and played with the sleeve of her sweatshirt before answering. “We’ve been so busy planning Thanksgiving dinner and trying to get the team back together that we haven’t had a chance to talk about what you said the other day.” Loki’s brow furrowed in confusion, and the corner of (Y/N)’s mouth twitched. “About wanting to, um, have children. With me.”

“Oh.” Loki felt himself pale; he’d completely forgotten about his slip-up and being reminded of it caused panic to flare in his chest. “I-It was stupid, (Y/N), I just…we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, I only meant-”

His explanation was abruptly cut off by (Y/N), who had covered his mouth with her hand and was shaking with suppressed laughter. “I always love those rare moments when you’re the one to get flustered; a little line always forms in between your eyebrows.” She leaned forward and pressed a brief kiss on the spot before moving her hand from his mouth to cup his cheek. “I was surprised by what you said the other day because I didn’t realize that you’ve imagined the same future that I have.” (Y/N) shyly looked down but she reached for his free hand and intertwined their fingers together. “I may not have much experience with relationships, Loki, but I love you with all my heart and if there’s anyone I want to share that wonderful future with someday…well, it’s you.”

A grin slowly formed on Loki’s face; removing one of his hands from hers, he gently took hold of her chin and coaxed her to look at him. “Really?”

She nodded, her (Y/E/C) eyes sparkling with happiness. “Really.”

Surging forward, Loki held her face in his hands and smashed his lips against hers. (Y/N) made a sound of surprise before wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing back with equal vigor; Loki eventually found himself lying flat on his back while (Y/N) straddled his waist, one hand clutching her hip while the other traveled up and down her spine as they kissed. (Y/N) pulled her lips away from his and just as his throat made a noise of protest, she began kissing along his jawline and down his neck; needless to say, his annoyance quickly morphed to groans of satisfaction. Only when her soft lips brushed against a particularly sensitive patch of skin near his collarbone did Loki lose all restraint; he flipped them over so that (Y/N) was pressed against the mattress and after grabbing her hands and threading their fingers together, he held them over her head and hungrily attacked her eager lips with his own until an unfortunate lack of air forced them to break apart.

“I said I’d like children with you someday, Loki, not today!” (Y/N) exclaimed breathlessly, a dazed sort of smile illuminating her face as she looked up at him.

Loki let out a laugh before kissing her forehead and rolling off to lay on his back beside her; try as he might, he couldn’t keep the broad grin off his face. “Apologies, my love, but you’re entirely irresistible. If I’d known there were kisses like that in store for me, I’d have told you all that ages ago…”

Later that evening, (Y/N) was fast asleep against his chest and the sounds of her quiet snores filled the room as he stretched out on the bed in contentment. I suppose there’s only one thing left to do, Loki thought tiredly, pulling (Y/N) closer and glancing over at the bedside table that hid the engagement ring before sleep finally claimed him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Wow, that was a lot of fluff! Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wx8TZwpDN0l33tES3W3Nk

Chapter Fifteen

Spellbinding Masterlist

Tagging: @nexiva @ravenclawbitch426 @cminr @confusedfandomwriter @momc95 @nickkie1129 @austynparksandpizza @brooke0297 @destructivebliss @outoftheregular @itscomplicatedx @0-artemis @vivloki

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cheyla-v · 3 years

Text

February Round-Up

I was going to post this last weekend, but then I figured that it would make more sense to wait until the end of the month because I missed three of the four weeks already. Oops?

All in all, February was a very productive month. I think I’ve got my insomnia to thank for that, because I was awake during what are apparently my peak writing hours. So, here goes.

Writing

My original monthly goal was 15k and I wrote over 21k, so yay! Then again, I really shouldn’t be surprised because there were several days that I was awake between 1am and 5am and was cranking out to 2-3k in that time period.

My main focus of the month was to finish my YOI Big Bang project, since submissions are due in March for that. I’m close, y’all! Close! 9k currently (it’s going to definitely be over my 10k estimation though...)

Soul’s Scream updates - Chapter 18 is at 5.5k right now, so progress! I also wrote a scene that’s currently 1.5k (and will probably end up a lot longer, because Gheyos!) for one of the Friday/Introduction day chapters, as well as a 4k scene that’ll take place at some point in the fic introducing Kai and some of Brishen’s backstory.

I wrote 3 fics for the YOI Olympics - Beijing 2022 event. I was going to write more, and I actually started a 4th fic, but then Olympic figure skating just became so emotionally draining. It’s gotten to the point where I don’t want to work on anything YOI related, unfortunately, which really sucks, because that fandom was what broke my 3-year writing hiatus and saved me during the pandemic and my last year of law school.

I also wrote 3 drabbles for the February Ficlet Challenge. I wanted to write more because there were some great prompts, I just didn’t have the right muse at the time. I might do some late additions for when muse does strike if I can.

Because my normal muse and WIP list isn’t enough, I signed up for the HP Next Gen Fest. 😅Super excited for the prompt though! Also considering joining another fest, but that’s currently TBD right now, since the prompts haven’t been released yet. Prompts are out in a few days, so I’ll know fairly soon.

Reading

I needed fluffy and I needed funny during this month, and luckily I found plenty of both. I think I’m officially a MXTX fan now as well, considering for three of the four books I read by her, I didn’t go to bed until 2 or 3am and for two of the three series, I promptly watched the animated series that same day or the following day (it would have been all three, but watching The Untamed and Mo Dao Zu Shi is what got me started down this path in the first place 😂).

Finished:

At First Bloom by Chera Carmichael

Call to Water by Chera Carmichael

Under the Water by Chera Carmichael

Mo Dao Zu Shi/Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, Vol. 1 by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu

Tian Guan Ci Fu/Heaven Official’s Blessing, Vol. 1 by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu

Tian Guan Ci Fu/Heaven Official’s Blessing Vol. 2 by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu

Ren Zha Fanpai Zijiu Xitong/The Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu

(Also Idan and Minh are totally not loosely based on the personalities of Xie Lian and Hua Cheng or Lan Wanji and Wei Wuxian... 😅)

Other Projects

Here’s the long awaited photo of what I was working on in January! I got it done in time to qualify as a late Christmas/early birthday gift. Book colors of course, because I’d never live it down if I used movie colors, lol.

It took a few weeks, but I’ve decided what my next big project is going to be and I took a trip to the craft store for yarn. Since this next project will be something for personal use, I can actually post progress photos. I’m five rows in currently and oh my stars, there’s so much yarn switching. I can’t tell if I’m weaving or crocheting half the time.

I’m proud to say that I also FINALLY bought a coffee table. It only took ... six months? 😅But I’m happy, because it means I can unpack a few more boxes, can use my lap desk for its actual purpose again, and my cats are happy because a) it gives them a new surface to explore/lay on and b) they’re no longer getting squirted by the spray bottle for climbing on the boxes I was using as a makeshift coffee table these past few months (one was a very determined little bugger when it came to doing that and it was a whole hour-long morning ritual for several weeks, which didn’t help the whole insomnia thing...). I also bought and built a bookcase this week, so my arms and wrists are currently hating me and my tendinitis is flaring up... Next on my list of furniture to get are a nest-couch and side tables. Might take another six months for me to get them though, lol.

#weekly roundup #just to keep the tag consistent #crochet #writing things #Soul's Scream

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knightofameris · 4 years

Text

hot chai tea — kita shinsuke

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛: neutral 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜: reader has a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 1.3𝚔 𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚜' 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜: okay I was trying to not include any notes for these but I had to for this! After writing (well, partially into writing it) this I found that I enjoyed it enough that I wanted to submit it for @agaassi‘s 4k celebration 🥺 It’s not a cafe AU, but I call it the “cafe au but make it boba” I’ll include a bit more of some notes at the end so uhmmm catch ya in a bit!

𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍: hot chai tea 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 ChaTime 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔!

⇽ 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 ◜𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚜' 𝚋𝚘𝚋𝚊 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚙 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚞◞

Everything that could go wrong, went wrong.

First you woke up late, you didn’t even have time to eat, the campus bus left you as you were running towards it which made you late to your last 8AM (with an attendance policy) class of the semester. Then, you realized you brought the wrong notebook for your 8AM class for the review session since finals was next week and you forgot your laptop so you resorted to taking notes on your goddamn phone. Ah, but then your phone died and you forgot to bring a charger and a portable. Because of that, you lost track of time while studying that you were late to work.

You only made it into work 10 minutes late but it was in the midst of a rush and you messed up the first three orders terribly. So badly that your coworkers and manager just put you in the back to sort some things instead.

That’s how you found yourself scowling as you carried boxes back and forth, organizing cups and food items in the fridge. This is it, this was your villain origin story. Forced to the back after a shitty day and—

A strict, yet soft, voice called out to you.

You felt a shiver run down your spine, stopping you in your tracks, and slowly turned towards the voice of your manager.

Kita Shinsuke.

Honestly, you weren’t usually scared of him. He’s a nice guy, kinda robotic at times, but he has an aura that commandeers respect. He says it like it is, but he cares a lot. Always on time, always working efficiently, always able to handle the Miya twins when needed.

It’s just that... He’s never had a reason to use that voice on you.

“Ah, Kita-san, what’s up?” You asked, trying to put on a smile.

His intense eyes stared straight into yours and you immediately looked away, feeling a bit too vulnerable under his gaze.

“Is there some reason why you’re not performing like you usually do?”

Right, Kita was always someone who could do his job no matter what happens. Performing anxiety was nonexistent to him. Or any anxiety for that matter.

“I, uh,” you debated between telling him a lie but you had a feeling he’d read right through you. Maybe being honest was the better choice here. “Just had a bad day.”

Kita doesn’t say anything. Instead, choosing to wait. So you set down the box with a sigh and began explaining everything that happened. And he listens, fully and wholeheartedly. He doesn’t say anything, nor is he thinking of what to say until you finish. By the time you’re done going over the events that transpired that eventful day you find that you’re choking back tears.

“I want you to take a deep breath,” he instructed. He walked up to you as you did so and set his hands on your shoulders. “With finals next week, you should go home and rest so it doesn’t impact your exams. Your immune system is weakest when you’re stressed and you should take care of your body-”

“Wait, Kita-san—” It’s already too late, he had you turned around and began pushing you towards the exit in the back.

“-Eat some dinner and sleep early tonight. Then make sure to get plenty of breaks as you study.”

“Wait, but Kita, I need to work,” you pleaded, dropping the honorific. Although, that caused you more of a fright than himself as you scampered to try to fix your mistake but Kita just holds up a hand. He didn’t really mind the fact that you dropped it.

“Do you need the money?”

You blinked then stare down at your feet with a soft murmur of ‘yes’ and begin to explain, “I work the exact hour of shifts needed to pay for rent before the end of the month. Financial aid only covers tuition and just enough for groceries so...”

Kita’s quiet for a few moments before he lets out a sigh, “You should still go home.”

“Wha-? But-!”

“If you need to work an extra shift, I can work one in for you. After finals which is before the end of the month and before your next paycheck.” You frown, weighing your options and as you do so, Kita leaves to go towards the front. Which was confusing as you’re left standing there in the back. You were surprised that none of your coworkers came by but you suppose it’s because they didn’t want to fall under Kita’s wrath with poor word choices.

It wasn’t until a few moments later that his figure comes into view and in his hand was the standard ChaTime cup that always held warm drinks. Kita holds out the drink towards you and you hesitantly grabbed it.

“It’s chai tea, not too caffeinated so you’ll be able to rest easy tonight but just enough energy to get you back home,” he told you. You can’t help the few tears that escape your eyes but Kita’s face doesn’t change, no pity and no anger. Just a softness you couldn’t place. It makes your cheeks heat up. You hope you can blame it on you crying, even if it wasn’t much.

“Thank you, Kita-san,” you hesitantly take the cup out of his hands after wiping away the stray tears. “I’ll be sure to rest up tonight.”

He gives you a curt nod and you’re already on your way to clock out and on the train back to your apartment. You finish the drink by the time you get back to your apartment and do everything that would make Kita proud. Eat dinner, drink water, and rest for the rest of the night. Maybe do a little face mask and watch a bit of Sailor Moon.

For the first time that day, you were content.

***

The next time you walk into work is long after finals week finished. There was a bit of a dance in each step you had as you strolled through the boba shop for the morning shift. But that soon came to a halt when you heard someone clear their voice.

“Oh, Kita-san,” you laughed sheepishly. You could’ve sworn there was a slight smile on his face but that was the least of your worries once you noticed he had two cups in his hand.

“Here, I hope your finals went well,” he handed you the warm drink and you immediately knew it was chai tea.

You stared at Kita as he drank his own drink, maneuvering through the shop. You noticed that for this shift, it was just the two of you working. You also noticed that Kita must have been here for a while, the floors were mopped, the teas and toppings were all prepped and ready, monitors had all the drinks, and he prepped both of you a drink.

He must have gone out of his way to make your shift a little easier. As you drank your tea, the corners of your lips turned upwards ever so slightly. Kita may definitely seem cold at times, blunt even, but he truly looked out for others.

“Hey, Kita-san,” you called out, walking towards the front where he was standing. He looked up, staring at you as he waited. “You wouldn’t happen to know why my landlord said I could pay my rent late with no fees, would you?”

Kita hummed, returning his gaze out the window where people were walking and took a sip of his drink.

“No,” he replied. An uncharastic smirk made its way onto his face that you barely noticed as he took another sip.

You chuckled, shaking your head. Staring down at the cup in your hands, your fingers playing with the cup sleeve, you struggled to find the right words only to resort for something simple.

“Thank you.”

Kita’s brown eyes glanced towards your figure, happy that you seem more well rested. He takes another sip from his cup before speaking up.

“You’re welcome.”

𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚢, 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗!

𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚜' 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜: okay hi again lmao. I guess this kinda exposes which anon i am and which college i go to WHOOPS LOL and iykyk lol (to anyone else reading that’s not ae ra). I was going to submit my atsumu one for the 4k writing challenge but I’ve gotta admit, I do not have a plot for his fic yet (as of the moment I’m writing this). And like I said before, I really enjoyed writing Kita’s sm that I wanted to use this one to submit for the writing challenge plus as i started i already had begun to write this in mind for the challenge. (i was also debating submitting Akaashi’s but then I realized I had posted that one already askdhkjf) 🥺🥺 though, this was definitely me being a bit more “risky” (?) since this is the first i’ve written for kita so I’m still trying to understand his character hnng. but i hope you enjoyed reading it! 👉👈

I haven’t been able to write many things that are over like 3k lately so hopefully this short little fic suffices 🥺🥺 And I’ve only recently been motivated/inspired to write these boba fics, otherwise I would’ve done something else entirely! But it’s been a hot minute since I’ve done a writing challenge and I wanted to celebrate yours and i love love love writing challenges.

Anywyayyayay, I’ve always enjoyed your writing but I really hope you’re taking your time to take care of yourself! Remember to write for you, get your sleep, eat and drink water (please don’t drink just milk tea omg), study hard, and uhhhhhhhhh make sure to relax!!

#kita shinsuke x reader #kita shinsuke x male!reader #kita shinsuke x neutral!reader #kita shinsuke x you #kita shinsuke x y/n #kita shinsuke imagines #male!reader #neutral!reader #haikyuu x reader #kita shinsuke fluff #haikyuu fluff #ameris' boba shop #agaasi 4k wp #a.writes #a.bobashop #💜.kita

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thequibblah · 3 years

Note

⭐

anon: omg hi I think I sent in a ~free choice~ directors cut a while back but if you can't think of anything you wanna talk about I would LOVE to hear more about the way you write the Snape/Lily relationship and and the way it breaks apart, and even specific scenes related to it because in this house we are Anti S/nily

i hope this person was you but if not HAHA i will take this opportunity to answer their prompt as a "free choice" if you don't mind!

so. good old.... severus. ahhh.

writing interactions between snape and lily is like, one of the most rewarding challenges of this fic. now.... pitchforks away, my lovelies.... it's such an interesting emotional space to explore on her end, to me. personally i've never had a friendship end over something big and irrevocable, so it's really brand-new water to tread.

what makes it even more fascinating is that because of the setup of CT — starting after the lake incident — snape is less a presence in her life and more an absence she's working around. if i can get boring and pretentious for a sec, this was something i worked on a lot in college creative writing classes — writing about a thing in the past by avoiding it, or touching upon it and flinching away, or approaching it sideways.

now. we none of us have the patience of serious literary fiction readers in our fic HAHAHHA so this is a lot more dialled-back (dialled-forward??). but that was basically the approach to begin with, with these two. and then it was a matter of exploring the trajectory of it — how when the wound is rawest, lily is actually most forgiving and generous towards him, as she's had less time and space away from him/their friendship, and is busy making excuses for him.

(aside: i didn't realise until actually confronted by it that so much of her attitude towards him comes from her attitude towards petunia, a relationship in which she got used to receiving barbs before she gave them back, but the blood tie keeps her from a clean break. with snape there's no blood relation, obviously, but there's a shared sense of history, of childhood, that kind of lives in the same part of lily's brain/heart. so... really, two people who loathe each other overlap quite significantly in lily's emotional landscape.)

re: lily's excuse-making — it doesn't help that the only person who pushes her on snape is james. (her friends all have learned to avoid the subject, as you do when your friend is friends with someone you don't like but you can't say anything until after they're finished, and then you're like omg thank GOD i hated them from the start!!! but of course in this case they couldn't go overboard with that sentiment, lest it come off as "you should've known better/we knew better and you didn't") thanks to the circumstances of the lake incident, some of those messy feelings towards snape are entangled in messy feelings towards james (early on in the story especially), so the resulting conflict is.... bad....

She half-stumbled backwards, as if she’d been slapped. “I don’t need you to remind me,” she hissed. To her embarrassment, tears of frustration sprang to her eyes. But if she’d thought that would make him back off, she was wrong. “Yeah, except you do need the reminder,” said James. “Because you don’t get it yet. He chose them. Not you.” Lily was shaking. “I believe in second chances,” she said, fighting to keep her voice level. “But you really, really test my faith, James.” And without waiting for him to answer, she stormed up the girls’ staircase, wiping at her cheeks.

bad.

lily's true blind spot is, of course, that she's more willing to forgive snape's missteps with her. and of course james has to go and point that out :/

“Let me put it this way. If Sni — if Snape were Mary’s friend and he’d said that to her, wouldn’t you tell Mary she ought to never speak to him again?” Lily shifted uneasily. “Well, sure, but I’ve known him since—” “—you were children, whatever. Say Mary did too. Would that change anything for her?”

so the first time lily is like wait actually fuck this!!! it's because he reminds her, in an argument, about how callous he can be — a callousness which i think she's never liked, but it's easier to forgive sharpness when it's your friend poking fun at people you don't like, and less easy when...

“Yes, do let’s talk about Potter,” she said, dangerously calm now. “Let’s talk about how your mate Mulciber used an Unforgivable Curse on him—” To her absolute shock, Severus scoffed. “It was three bloody seconds—” “Shut up,” Lily said, too stunned to think of something better to say. “Shut up, you don’t seriously think that — that because the two of you have a childish rivalry, he deserves torture?” “That’s not what I said,” he replied, looking mutinous. “I just meant, everyone’s acting like he’s some big survivor — always playing for attention—”

...well, when that.

best/worst impulses aside, lily knows that the true measure of someone is how they treat the people they dislike, not their friends, and in a sense his attitude towards james (and generally other people) in this scene makes her realise what she'd read as inconsideration or insensitivity is in fact...

"...You’re weak-willed and pathetic and you’re — you’re not a good person.”

...so there's that.

as anyone who's read lily's current petunia drama will know, she's got a bit of a problem with letting go. but after her mother's death (and the attached stick to your sister she's all you've got), she manages a weirdly good break from cokeworth — because a lot of her childhood was wrapped up in hogwarts, and in snape (whom she hasn't spent vacation time with in over a year at that point). with neither at hand, she hardly has time to process it/feel homesickness.

but note this, at the start of 7th year:

“Was last year nothing to you?” Her voice had sharpened. “I wasn’t freezing you out to punish you, Severus. I was treating you how I plan on treating you from now on.”

of course lily's just making a point here, but when i wrote that i was like wow she (and i lol) are kind of onto something — snape totally does think this is like, a temporary purgatory period after which she really will come around. and through months of her getting visibly closer to his nemesis, he holds onto that belief — despite what she says. (funnily enough, childhood rose-tinted glasses make them both see what they want to see in each other, in very different ways)

that's why when he hears her say what she says to una in that hogsmeade trip, he immediately comes to his own conclusions. that was another important, interesting thing for me — for other slytherins, "loose ends" are opportunities for cruelty, for punishment, to finish what they've started. (not so for regulus, who's grown up with sadism and is frankly repulsed by the idea of pain for a flimsy cause — best believe there was absolutely a point to him orchestrating an attack on the teacher getting close to his brother. but that's another story.)

not for severus either — his loose end, in his own mind, will always be lily. he senses that something's broken, but he has absolutely no self-awareness about what it is, and his extending an olive branch was more about her coming to his level than him going to hers (aka the way apologies ought to work). he realises, over a year out, that it's up to him to fix it, but it's too late — lily's quite moved on at that point, and her residual emotions towards him are indifference and pity.

if only snape had known to leave it there!

looping full circle back to the lake incident, then, the argument in 41 is once again very personal — but rather than him pushing her away, it's him trying to get her close again. and now, stressed about all the bs in the world but also with all the petunia-related learn-to-let-go stuff fresh in her mind, lily is absolutely in the right state of mind to recognise when she's wrongly judged someone. this calls for scorched earth, she realises, or she'll never be able to shake him and move on for good.

and so what started with severus telling her that she's special, that there's a place in a new world for her, ends sort of the same way.... and the break that began with his casual, almost unintentional cruelty, ends with her very deliberate cruelty. as a bonus, she's ready now to use the one thing he's always wielded like a shield in their arguments — james, how the marauders are, etc. etc. — against him, and genuinely mean it.

(she might regret that soon. but not the way you'd think!)

#i don't know if this is even an answer or me just talking #thedoctorsayswho #ask me #director's cuts

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klaus-is-the-real-number-1 · 4 years

Text

The day we caught the train (Slytherin!Five x Hufflepuff!Reader)

missvifdor said: It would be for Five Slytherins with a Hufflepuff reader 🤗 they are very opposite in personality but they complement each other. I love Harry Potter and the umbrella academy, so i'm glad you write about both 😄 thank you,

A/N: this was like kinda vauge so i made up like a story line i guess?? Its kinda a mess and really long?? hope this is ok!! I really like these because i used to be obsessed with HP, in this i imagine Five would be from the really posh part of london where, the reader being opposites to him would be from a northern town and theyre both in sixth year which is age 16-17, i had to do so much research for this lol

Words: 2711

Footsteps echoed through the long empty halls as curfew rolled around, the sounds of students rushing to get back to their dormitories after a long night of studying and hushed whispering of passwords was not an unfamiliar sound at this time of night. Pictures were left empty as their residents wandered away out of frame and the castle slowly went to sleep, except for the prefects. As the sun went down, the prefects got up to do nightly patrols to make sure no students were up past curfew, each house prefect patrolled their own areas around their relative commonrooms to catch any wrong doers, not that they were many.

Tonight was your turn, patrolling the basement level and the kitchen corridor around the Hufflepuff dorm room, waiting for anything exciting to happen yet you knew it never would. Hufflepuffs always had a strong moral code and a clear right from wrong, every single patrol you carried out during Fifth year when you were appointed prefect you never caught a single person, now part way into sixth year still not once incident had occurred.

Yet, for some reason, every patrol you had ended up with a certain Slytherin prefect following you around, Five. Five was unusual to say the least, he was a well respected and slightly feared student, cunning and determined, he had a close knit clique of fellow pure blood slytherins, yet for some reason out of everyone in the whole of the castle, he had a soft spot for you. Even though he’d never show it in front of others, during the light of the day he’d sneak in side glances and small smiles, especially in the first few years making sure no comments came your way about your muggle parents or your upbringing.

Exactly on queue, a familiar sound of footsteps echoed down the staircase leading to you corridor only to stop short at the last step. A small ‘lumos’ echoed throughout the quiet hallway before Fives head pops into view, checking it was actually you there before a large smile breaking on his face as he walked into view. “Hey.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be on patrol?” You smile to him as he got closer, crossing your arms over your chest.

“They know it’s me on, no one would dare try anything.” He smirks knowing he was right, striking fear into everybody, except you. His eyes soften and his tone became gentle when he was speaking with you. He’d always been like that, from your first journey on the Hogwarts express, talking the entire train journey up, secret library meeting when you both realised things weren’t as simple as just being friends. Things got difficult when blood ‘purity’ came into play, when suddenly you couldn’t be friends, which hurt.

The dimly lit hallways excentrated his features, his sharp jaw and high cheekbones cast shadows on his face and neck, yet his dimples still shone through when he smiles and breaks up the harsh exterior that he puts on. Stepping closer, you lifted your hand to run it through his hair, watching his face break out into a smile and wrap his hand around your waist. Small displays of affection weren’t uncommon between the two of you, only increasing through the years of being at Hogwarts. “I’m so glad you stopped gelling your hair back.”

“Don’t remind me.” He rolled his eyes, remembering his poor style choices of his past. You move your hand and run it down the side of his face and across his jaw, taking a second to admire him before dropping your hand.

“I’ve gotta go, my shifts nearly over.” A sad looking smile broke over his face as he slowly lowered his hand from your waist. “I’ll see you tomorrow though.” You say as you lock eyes with him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He repeated back to you. He smiled and started walking towards the stairs, just before his foot touched the first step he turned back to you. “Goodnight, y/n.”

Dueling was always one of the most exciting parts of Hogwarts, it was a welcome break from the immense workload that sixth years had to deal with. In sixth year you were expected to be able to cast non-verbal spells, a mentally challenging task where some were better than others. Over the past month your defence class had been working tirelessly on being able to cast successful non-verbal spells with the promise of having a period where you would be duelling, which was exciting for everyone involved, a chance to show your abilities and represent your house.

“I’m going to be pairing you up today,” Your teacher spoke to you all as he was stood on the dueling table, met with a grumble from the students. “With student of the same ability.” He continued, seemingly unaffected by the disappointed sounds of the sixth years. “When I call you out, both of you will come to the stage.”

Cheers and boo’s echoes throughout the room as students from different houses duled, light flying from wands as students desperately tried to conjure spells without speaking, some pulling through well where others barely being able to produce anything at all. Tension rose throughout the room as more people slowly got paired off, everyone wondering who would be the next pair.

“Y/n and Five.”

Smiling, you walk up to the stage and face Five, seeing a small smile emerge from his stern expression. Wands at the ready, you wait for the call to start from the teacher, already knowing your strategy. The air turned heavy and the room turned quite as everyone was ready to watch the duel, you were both the highest achieving students in the class and people were eager to see who would be the best.

Then it started, Five casting the first spell only to have you deflect it, causing a gasp to echo through the room. You knew it would be a risky move to cast a spell that hadn’t been taught, a spell that wasn’t even in the curriculum. It was the only way you had ever found deflecting a spell without having the spell hit your opponent, Five was stunned for a second before hitting back with another spell, only for you to deflect it again and again and again. Waiting for a hesitation from Five to strike and then you got it, a gap in his relentless spell casting when he took a second too long to think about his next spell.

Before he could blink, he was thrown to the floor with his wand flying out of his hand as you hit him with expelliarmus. Cheers erupted from students interspersed with nasty comments from the Slytherin students, you walk over to Five who was winded from his fall on the floor. Offering your hand he goes to take it before hesitating, under the watchful eyes of his Slytherin clique he lowered his hand and picked himself up, brushing down his robes.

“Right!” Your teacher stood up on the stage with you and Five. “Class is dismissed, remember to keep practicing these non-verbal spells.” Your eyes never left Five as your teacher spoke, you felt a stinging sensation wash over your eyes accompanied by a throbbing in your chest at his actions. You shook your head and turned away, unable to keep looking at him without bursting into tears.

“I need you to stay behind.” He turned to you, giving you a stern look only to soften when he saw you in near tears. Slowly, everyone left the room, either going to the library or commonrooms to await their next lesson due to the early finish. Closing your eyes, you gently tapping the lids with your fingertips to try and ease the stinging feeling, you take a deep breath before re-opening your eyes.

“Am I in trouble?” You say as you sit on the side of the duelling stage, legs swinging as you play with your hands.

“Not exactly,” He sighs, sitting in a chair facing you. “Where did you learn that?”

So you start to explain, lying as you went, as you explained you started to immediately regret even casting the spell in the first place. In fourth year you were spending a late night in the library, trying to find any books to help you excel in your classes, you had piles of books in front of you and then one book you opened had sheets of parchment paper interspersed with the other pages filled with spells that weren’t on the curriculum. It was filled with defence spells, jinxes, curses and more, it had been your guide ever since you found it. This, however, was not what you explained to him, simply saying you were doing some reading and found it and were unable to find the book again.

You could tell he didn’t believe you, but sensed that he wouldn’t delve too far into your story. “You can’t pull anything like that again,” He looked at you for a response so you just nodded. “I won’t go any further with this, you can go.”

The rest of the day went slowly, doing everything in your might to avoid Five, you had been patient with him all these years and him not even wanting to let you pull him up because of his little gang looking at him hurt, it stung. You know he’s loyal to his house but after 6 years of always hiding and sneaking around you just couldn’t bare it anymore, couldn’t bare the fact that Five had let this wizarding class war consume him.

Post day was always fun, hundreds of owls flying into the great hall and dropping off post from friends and family at home, some received letters while others got large packages sent in. Bruce was your barn owl, he was large, brown and robust, he would usually reside on your parents farm, being well loved and looked after by your whole family whilst you were away but always knew when you needed him in the castle.

In he came, swooping down with a letter tied to him and landing elegantly in front of you. Petting him with one hand while the other unties the letter, excited chatter filled the room as most other people were doing the exact same thing, wondering what their loved ones had sent them. Carefully opening the letter, trying not to tear the envelope, your eyes scan over the hand-written letter, smiling at all the information that was written in great detail.

At the very bottom they’d attached a photograph of them all together smiling, along with your dog and a few other animals they all looked after. As you were smiling and showing your friends you felt it get pulled out of your hand; turning around, you were met with one of Fives Slytherin friends waving your photo around, calling on his friends.

“Ere’ give it back.” Getting up, you try and swipe it from his hands only for him to hold it higher, scrunching it as he did.

“What are you going to do about it, mudblood-” Before he could finish his sentence the photo was snatched out of his hand by Five, lightly tapping it with his wand and the photo returned to pristine condition before handing it back to you with a small smile.

“Behave.” Five said to him, pulling him away from your table and back to theirs. A smile snuck onto your face as you sat back down, Five had never done anything like that outside the darkness of the library or the nightly patrols, let alone in front of his friends.

Then, very slowly, he started to actively integrate himself into your life, talking to you in class, helping each other with homework after classes and even sitting with you at lunch on a regular basis. Building up your trust for him again, building up your friendship publically even with all the snide comments other people gave him, he ignored them all for you.

As winter rolled round, snow dusted the castle and surrounding areas as if it was a cake getting doused in icing sugar about to be presented for a meal. Cold nipped at your noses as you made the trek into Hogsmeade, students rushing to buy last minute presents for loved ones before christmas break as well as a stream of students flocking to the Three Broomsticks to get their last sips of butterbeer before the train journey home.

The Three Broomsticks was so full that students were being turned away, it was bursting at the brim with some students even even sharing chairs. The atmosphere was buzzing with excited students, conversations so loud that you couldn’t even hear yourself think. Five and yourself had been lucky, opting to come to the pub first thing then doing your christmas shopping, finding a small booth hid in the corner.

“So are you excited to go home?” He was wrapped up in a hoodie and jacket, a discarded hat and scarf lying on the table, leaving him with flushed cheeks and tousled hair.

“I ain’t going home,” You say, taking a sip of butterbeer. “I never have, I’d have to get the muggle train back north, costs around 100 quid each way.” You tap your fingers against the half empty glass. “Canny afford it.”

“You’ve never gone home for christmas?” Sadness was present in his eyes as he locked them with yours but you just shrugged.

“It’s not that bad, it’s like, my sixth year staying so everyone is just used to me now, I get to phone home and they basically give me access to the kitchen and all the teachers who stay put on interest lessons and such.” A breeze caused you to shiver, wrapping you jacket tighter around you. “I also help with the animals.”

Upon seeing you shiver Five leant over the table to wrap his scarf around your neck before gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear; the small display of public affection causing you to blush. Once you’d finished your drinks you head into town, looking down the alleys for all the little shops you could find, looking for the perfect gifts for your family, asking a slightly unenthusiastic Five for a second opinion and just receiving a series of raised eyebrows or nods of his head.

Taking your time to walk back to the campus, Fives hand had found its way into yours, swinging your entwined fingers as you went. As the large castle came into view a bittersweet feeling washed over you, knowing that Five and everyone else would be leaving for the holidays tomorrow while you stayed at the castle. Even if the empty hallways felt like home there was always a pang in your chest on christmas morning, even if it did ease off during the day whilst sat round with friends and teachers, it still made your chest throb.

Joy was evident in the great hall, everyone talking loudly and laughing with their friends knowing they won’t be seen for the next two weeks, an exchange of gifts and cards being passed around. Slowly, everyone faded out to the dining hall, getting ready to get on the Hogwarts express home, you passed around hugs and goodbyes as your friends left the common room, all of them leaving cards and parcels by your bed and made you swear not to open them until christmas day.

All morning you were looking around for Five but were never able to see him and as everyone left for the station you were convinced he had gone. Defeated, you walk through the empty hallways to the great hall for the regular meeting where the staff discuss the rules with the rest of you who had stayed behind. You heard a voice call your name behind you, quickly turning around, you see him. “Five?”

“They needed a male prefect to stay on campus,” He says as he gets closer, grin covering his face. “So I volunteered.” Instead of answering you just throw yourself at him, embracing him in your arms. His arms instantly wrap around your figure, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“Thank you, Five.”

#number 5 #number 5 x reader #number 5 fluff #number 5 imagine #number five #number five x reader #number five fluff #number five imagine #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves imagine #five hargreeves fluff

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whentherewerebicycles · 3 years

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hi! i wanted to say i love reading your reflections on teaching, and in general i really look up to/am inspired by your thoughts regarding education and academia. if it's not too much to ask (completely understandable if it is, in that case please disregard!) i would love to get your advice on college related things?

i had pretty significant academic struggles throughout grade school, and ended up dropping out of college after a year. i would've graduated this may, so lately i've been considering going back and finishing my bachelor's. but i've been waffling on this decision because of 1) anxiety about having to drop out again, and 2) some confusion about what i actually want to study. i guess i'm wondering, is it worth it to start from scratch? my struggles were mostly about mental health stuff & difficulty keeping up with coursework—i loved being in the classroom, working with professors, learning from other students. i like being challenged intellectually, but if i have issues with followthrough, is there a way to work on that??? i know these are Big Questions, lol--whether they are answerable or not, cheers and thank you and i hope you are doing well these days. <3

hey! happy to give my thoughts, for what they're worth. you know your situation better than i do so the specifics may or may not be relevant, but i can give some advice just based on seeing lots of students pass through four-year programs!

i've worked with a number of students who took time away from college and came back to finish later. i took a year off myself in the middle of college for mental health reasons, though my school allowed you to take a two-semester leave of absence for any reason (so i always had the safety net of knowing i could come back without having to reapply or start over). in my experience, time away is almost always a good thing. sometimes people just really need that break from the stressors of the college environment! but more importantly, i think people benefit from having a few years' experience living and working in the world.

even though it can be intimidating to come back to college as an older student, i think older students or nontraditional students who took time off and came back tend to underestimate how much more confident and assured in themselves they'll be once they're back in the classroom. working out in the world for a while, even if it's not a job that you especially love or feel is relevant to your long-term goals, tends to help you build more trust in your own ability to get stuff done, manage responsibilities, and be an adult person in the world. in your time away, you've probably grown more than you think, and you may find that some of the things you struggled with at 18 just don't feel as daunting anymore. or they might feel daunting, but you also have more experience talking and working with other people, and you may feel more confident in seeking out & using your college's various academic success resources.

have you considered a two-year college as a possible next step? one of my advisees this year was an adult student who went to college for a year, dropped out, served in the military for four years, came back to do an associate's degree, and decided he liked school enough that he wanted to transfer to our university and finish his degree. (now he's going on to do a phd next fall!!!!) he's one of the most passionate advocates for community colleges i've ever met, and he's stayed actively involved in our local CC community & now mentors recent transfer students at our university. he's talked at length about how CCs are this amazing way for students to explore their interests without having to take on the huge price tag of a four-year degree, within a learning community that's much warmer, more responsive to student needs, and more accepting of the diverse paths that lead people to & through higher education. i wonder if you might consider taking a semester or a year of courses at your local CC, to dip your toes back in and see if you're still feeling energized by the experience.

you might find that some of the courses aren't intellectually challenging enough, but this might also be a wonderful opportunity to create the kind of learning experience you want to have. i was a full-time community college student for a year during my year away from yale, and while i'm sure i was just INSUFFERABLE in many ways, i had a prof in my Western Civ course who was really generous with his time/energy and met with me outside of class to help me figure out how to make the papers into something that i found really exciting and challenging to write. so the class kind of became what i made of it, and i got to read some stuff (dostoevsky!!!) that sent me down all kinds of interesting unexpected rabbitholes. the former CC grad i mentioned above was an extraordinarily bright student who would always go to office hours and ask his profs for more recommended readings, and he ended up becoming a TA for one of his courses and helped them redesign basically their entire intro humanities curriculum as a student advisor. so your CC experience can absolutely be what you make of it. and even if your profs can't give you that kind of support, you could practice doing it for yourself, setting little challenges for yourself either focused on the intellectual aspects ('I'm going to read and cite two scholarly sources in this paper, even though it's not required') or on developing strategies for effectively managing the workload ('I'm going to schedule a writing center appointment on Thurs, so I have to finish this paper two days before the deadline—and then I can devote my weekend study time to practicing for my Spanish test').

CC would be a slightly lower stakes environment for you to try out college again— lower-stakes both in the sense that it's cheaper (so if you decide you don't want to continue, you're not out as much money / don't feel compelled to go on to justify the debt you've taken on) and in the sense that the workload might be more manageable for you as you readjust to academic life and build systems & structures that work for you. as you probably have gathered from this blog, i am a HUGE believer in doing lower-stakes things many times over to build your own confidence and your trust in yourself, and then gradually scaling up the difficulty. by the time you reach the hard thing, you've already built up this strong image of yourself as a person who can handle challenges (and you've also had the chance to identify areas where you struggle & experiment with developing workable solutions).

if a two-year college isn't something you're especially interested in, i think it's definitely possible to start a four-year degree again. if that's the path you choose, i would strongly recommend reaching out to students in some of the degree programs you're tentatively interested in. people are almost always happy to share their ~wisdom~ (see: this ask response, lol) and most people love being asked for their thoughts on the pros and cons of something they know well. so you could get an honest sense from students of what the program is like, what the workload is like, and how useful or engaging people find the required courses for the degree. but also know that it's pretty normal to take courses all over in your first year or two (you have the advantage of having done a freshman year before, so you probably know this!), so you might just want to plan to try out a bunch of different things, with the goal of narrowing your focus by the end of your first year, or midway through your second.

i would also HIGHLY recommend spending lots of time familiarizing yourself with the resources your university has to offer. learn everything you can about the kind of mental health counseling and support they offer to students, and see if there are things you can set up in advance for yourself before you even step foot on campus. for instance, our university offers individual counseling, but they also have free groups that meet every week or two around different topics (coping with stress, students in recovery, etc) that are led by a counselor. check out your university's writing center or peer tutoring centers, too, and set up a standing appointment once a month or once a week or whatever, to bring in something you're working on—so that you know that every week, you're going to talk with someone about what's going well and what you're struggling with in your assignments.

you might also want to look into your university's services for students with disabilities office, as they can help you figure out if you are eligible for various kinds of accommodations or additional support (extra time on exams, notetaking services, recorded lectures, etc). i know you mentioned that you've dealt with academic struggles in grade school, too. if you think it's possible that there may be underlying learning differences that are affecting your academic work, it might be worth seeing if they can help you find lower-cost testing, so you can get a diagnosis that qualifies you for additional accommodations and university support.

many schools, esp large public universities, also have resource centers and mentoring programs for students from specific demographics who may benefit from additional structure and support in their early years of college. my university has a variety of resource centers and programs for students from low-income backgrounds, first-gen students, students who transferred from community college, etc. you don't have to take advantage of ALL of these resources, but proactively establishing a support network long before you need it is a really good way to set yourself up for success. and even just doing the research will probably help you feel more confident in your capacity to 'follow through', since you'll know that you're going into this with your eyes wide open AND with a detailed plan for what to do if you run into some of the same obstacles you encountered the first time around.

speaking of detailed plans: i find it helpful sometimes to do IF-THEN exercises with students when they're stressed about something on the horizon or unsure about whether they can handle some new challenge. IF-THEN is just what it sounds like: 'IF this thing I'm nervous about happens, THEN I'm going to do X, Y, or Z.' what i like about this exercise (i use it with myself too aha) is that it acknowledges that sometimes the thing you're dreading DOES happen. sometimes the professor you emailed for an extension says no. sometimes the TA doesn't understand why you're confused about the assignment. sometimes you don't have time to finish the reading before class. sometimes you overschedule yourself and you have to pull an all-nighter to finish two papers on the same night. scary things, confidence-shaking things, happen all the time, but they are rarely fatal! and there can be something really powerful about acknowledging and naming the thing you're concerned about, and then generating a few next steps you could take, should the thing you're dreading come to pass. i could see you doing something like this as you start thinking about the things that tripped you up last time, or made it difficult for you to balance the workload. if X happens, then what could you try next? giving yourself a few options means that you already have backup plans, too, which can make the whole situation less terrifying. if this happens, i might have to try this, or this, or this, and those things might not be the most fun or the easiest to do or the 'best' thing academically, but they'll get me through this difficult moment mostly in one piece, and once i'm through it i can look back on it and learn from it, or adjust the structures i've built for myself moving forward, to reduce the chance that X happens again.

PHEW!!! sorry this got so long but that is just the RISK YOU TAKE when sending me anons 😅 i hope that some of this is helpful to you, or at least sparks some useful thinking for you, even if it's not all directly applicable to your situation. i would say that if you love learning and find being in the classroom exhilarating, then you should absolutely go back to college! but that doesn't mean you have to go back right away, or that you have to go back and do it exactly the same way you did the first time. there are lots of possible paths to higher ed, and there's no particular rush—college will always be there, if it's something you decide you want now or at some future point in your life. i would also just reiterate again one of the core Themes of This Blog, which is that the brain is NEUROPLASTIC, and that humans have a truly astounding amazing capacity to change, grow, and learn new things (including new ways of getting around old obstacles or working through old challenges). just because you struggled the first time doesn't mean you are doomed to repeat that pattern. if you can spend some time thoughtfully reflecting on what you found most difficult to manage the first time through, you are better equipped to make plans, design new structures for yourself, and build the support networks that will help you thrive in college.

#long post #mw #teaching #(kind of)

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charincharge · 4 years

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“You’ve been giving me bedroom eyes for the past half an hour - time to show me what, exactly, was on your mind.” For Nessian 🥰 a very spicy prompt for a very spicy couple 👀 (ps I feel like all the prompts I request are nessian but that’s just bc I just love them so much 😂)

I changed the prompt a litttle. But. I think it’s okay since this is essentially 3k words of porn with a tinyyy bit of plot. I also combined it with my other Nessian prompt: “Come back to me.” I also didn’t tag anyone because I don’t have an ACOTAR tag list? Whoops. Oh well. Hope this eventually finds someone... lol.

Nesta hates being late. She thinks it’s the rudest thing someone can be. It’s a simple request, to ask that someone show up on time. It shows that you value them. It’s respectful.

Which is why Nesta shows up to check-in a full three hours early to the Summer International Ballroom Invitational. It’s the biggest competition weekend of the year, and she and her partner, Tarquin, have spent the last six months training their asses off for it.

After checking in, Nesta finds a perch at the hotel bar with a good vantage point of check-in. She wants to scope out the competition from afar. She’s familiar with most of the participants, having danced with them for nearly the last decade.

At six PM, the entrants start coming in droves, and a long line forms behind the check in table. Perfect. Nesta sips at her glass of sauvignon blanc and takes note. She first spots the twins, Ianthe and Tamlin, the gloriously blonde and creepily incestuous partners halfway down the line. No competition there. The pair have notably sloppy footwork, despite their obvious flare for the dramatic.

Next, she finds Amren and Varian. Nesta’s brow furrows. She’s a little concerned about them. Amren might be small, but her stage presence is huge. And because of her small stature, the pair always includes incredibly difficult lifts which garner them extra points, unlike Nesta’s tall, willowy frame, which makes lifts an astonishing challenge.

Further back, she spots her little sister and her boyfriend. She would usually drive to competition with Feyre and Rhysand, but… she can’t bear to be in the same room with them anymore.

Nesta takes another sip of her wine. Her life is very different than it was six months ago.

The hours grow later, but Nesta remains in her spot, her eyes glued to check-in. She should be in bed. Her wake up call is at five AM for hair and makeup, but she can’t bring herself to leave. And she knows why. She’s pathetic.

She hears his boisterous laugh before she sees him. She’d recognize that sound anywhere. Her skin prickles with anticipation as she drains the last of her wine. She looks at her phone. It’s almost eleven PM. Five hours late. But then again, Cassian never cared about respecting anyone’s time. She tugs at the neck of her dress uncomfortably, suddenly wishing she’d gone to bed with everyone else.

She watches as he tosses his head back and slings his arm over his new partner’s shoulders, amused by something she’s said. Everything Nesta knows about the new girl she has learned against her will. She’s brunette and slim and all angles, just like Nesta. Only where Nesta is pale and grey and cold, she’s tanned and brown and warm. Her name is Emerie, and Nesta loathes her.

Nesta orders another drink as Cassian and Emerie head up to their rooms. Or room. Gods, she hopes it’s rooms. She sips it quietly until the bar empties out. At midnight, Nesta finally decides to retire for the night. But first, she checks the ballroom where tomorrow’s competition will be held. She always does it for good luck. It’s a stupid superstition, but she’s done it before every competition. She runs through her dances on the floor the last thing before going to bed.

Her pulse jumps when she realizes that her former partner has beaten her to it. It makes sense. After all, it was both of their tradition.

Cassian struts across the dance floor, his hips swaying to the imaginary music in his head as he practices his rumba.

Nesta leans against the doorway and admires his form. His carriage is perfect, and his footwork is divine. The dance is slow and flirtatious, and Nesta can’t help but remember herself partnered up with him, spinning under his strong arms, braced against his muscular chest. The way he pulled her across the dancefloor was an intimacy she’s never shared with anyone else. Nesta watches him run through his samba and salsa next. He attacks both with precision and presence, and Nesta knows she’s in deep trouble. She can only hope she and Tarquin can place next to him.

Nesta’s about to give up on her run through and call it a night when Cassian’s voice breaks through the silence. “The floor’s all yours, sweetheart.”

He looks up at her, locking his hazel eyes with hers, making her heart stutter.

She strides forward into the light and onto the floor. “Thank you,” she says, attempting to sound as unaffected as possible. As she begins her first dance, she expects Cassian to leave, but instead he sits atop the judges table on the side of the floor to watch her.

Nesta’s blood boils under his watchful gaze. She uses him as a spot for her turns and performs to him – her audience of one. His eyes darken as she continues, and as Nesta does her highest kick, he even bites his lip. Nesta has missed those looks. She feels as if she’s about to combust under his intense scrutiny.

She’s so flustered that halfway through her dance she misses a turn. She never misses a turn. Nesta glares at Cassian, who still sits, staring at her.

“Did the perfect Nesta Archeron just mess up?” he asks, absolutely pleased with himself. Nesta growls and repeats the step. Her ankle buckles and trips over her other foot.

She glares at Cassian. “Can you fucking leave? You’ve been giving me bedroom eyes for the last half an hour, and it’s incredibly distracting.”

Cassian smirks and stands. “As if you weren’t giving them right back, sweetheart.” He approaches her slowly, quirking an eyebrow as he grins. “Wanna show me exactly what was on your mind?”

“No,” Nesta snaps.

“Liar.”

Cassian licks his lips, and Nesta’s gaze unwittingly lowers to it. She’s spellbound by his movements.

He finally reaches her and places his hands on her waist.

“Try it again.”

His hands guide her hips, and she’s able to do the spin easily. He spins her again, and she crashes into his chest. His arms wrap around her waist, holding her steady, and Nesta breathes heavily as she looks into his eyes, laden with desire. After a torturous minute, he finally leans down and captures her mouth in a heated kiss.

Nesta wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him closer. He grabs at her thigh, hitching it over his waist, and Nesta moans into his mouth. She can feel him hard against her center through his loose dance pants, and she’s aching with need for him. Has been aching with need for him for months.

As she wraps her other leg around his waist, he hoists her up against him, his hands kneading into her ass. Her hands grab at his long hair and pull. It must sting, because he pulls away with a hiss and then bites down on her neck, absolutely leaving a mark.

Her back hits a cloth covered table as Cassian drops her across it, tugging her hips so she’s perched on the edge, right against him.

He laps at her collarbone, heated lips dragging across her skin and leaving a wet trail in their wake. She shivers and pulls him closer, rubbing his scruff against her smooth skin.

“Tell me to stop,” he pants into her neck.

“Never,” she whispers.

He doesn’t need more confirmation. He tugs up the skirt of her dress and lowers himself between her thighs. Her legs fall over his shoulders as he kneels to the ground. His tongue teases her through her underwear, slowly licking and nipping at her until she’s a squirming mess.

She lifts her hips up, trying to get closer, needing more friction, but Cassian is just out of reach. He knows exactly how to torture her. Always has. It seems he takes pleasure in it. Her hands move up her dress and grab at her breasts, pinching them, trying to relieve the building tension. Nesta likes to be grabbed and pinched and pulled. This gentle teasing is killing her.

Cassian pulls away, pausing momentarily, and Nesta props herself up to look at him. “Why’d you stop?” she pants, her hands still tugging at her chest.

“I want to see you,” he says, his eyes impossibly dark.

“Oh,” Nesta breathes.

“Take it off,” he commands. “Take it off and show me what you’re doing.”

Nesta nods rapidly. She loves when Cassian starts throwing down commands. She lies back down and lifts her hips first, moving the dress to her waist, and then shimmies the fabric over her head, tossing it to the ground unceremoniously. Her hands immediately return to their spot on her breasts, pinching and pulling them until they just barely hurt.

Cassian lowers his mouth to her stomach and bites at it while his hands pull her underwear down to her ankles. Constrained by the waistband, Nesta can barely spread her legs enough for Cassian to lower his hand to her folds and play with them.

“Yes,” she moans, so grateful to have his hand on her bare skin. Two fingers plunge into her without warning, and Nesta yelps. She grabs at Cassian’s hair, knotting her fingers in it and tugging as hard as she can. He lifts his eyes and grins at her while his fingers pump in and out.

“You like that, sweetheart?”

“Fuck,” Nesta whimpers. “You know I do.”

She writhes beneath him as his fingers keep up a relentless pace inside her. He laces his free hand with hers, which is still pinching at her breast. He replaces her hand with his mouth. Wet heat surrounds her, and she screams when he sucks her nipple between his teeth. Her orgasm overtakes her as she pulses around his curling fingers.

As soon as she’s finished riding it out, Cassian grabs at her hips and flips her over. Her face slams onto the table.

“Shit,” Cassian fumbles with her and lifts her torso back up. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she assures him, propping herself up on her elbows. He kisses her softly on her cheek, so starkly different from the manhandling she’s been receiving. She looks over her shoulder as he pulls down his pants and strokes his erection. She’s missed that thing most of all. Her hips lift in anticipation, her ass out as she’s splayed across the table.

He moves his cock between her folds, and Nesta lowers her arms, relaxing into the table. But he sheaths himself inside her with a forceful thrust, Cassian grabs her ponytail and pulls. Hard. She arches her back up and moans loudly as he wraps her hair around his hand, tugging at her hair with each push of his hips. She knows this is going to be fast. For both of them.

“Fuck, Nes,” he pants. “Gods, baby, I missed you so much.” His free hand claws at her hip, helping her ride him.

Her eyes flutter shut as she pushes back harder against his cock, thick and perfect, moving inside her.

“I missed you, too,” she admits over the sound of their slapping skin.

He tugs on her hair harder, lifting her chest off the table, and she can feel his lips press between her shoulder blades. His mouth hovers there, puffing breaths of hot air onto her sweaty skin, and his pace starts to increase.

His hand finally releases her hair but moves to her neck. She gasps at the feeling, a surge of arousal shooting through her, and he groans loudly. She reaches back and moves his hand from her hip to wrap around her front and rub between her legs.

“Almost,” she breathes. “Almost.”

He pounds into her from behind, and her hips crash against the side of the table as his fingers rub circles into her wet clit. His fingers slip, around and around, until she can’t fight it anymore. She screams out his name as she comes onto his cock, clenching down until her body is completely spent.

Cassian picks up his pace, moving faster and faster until he suddenly pulls out of her. She can hear his hand working his cock behind her, and she wants to move and help him, she really does, but she thinks if she tries to stand, her legs might give out. She hears Cassian grunt loudly as drops of wetness hit her back.

She hears him shuffling around, she assumes to clean her off, but instead she hears the click of a photo being taken. She snorts.

“Did you just photograph my naked ass with your cum on my back?”

“No…?” he says, and she glares at him over her shoulder.

“Cassian, delete that right now.”

“In a minute,” he says, and she sighs and lowers herself to the table again. He grabs the edge of the tablecloth and wipes her down, and finally helps her stand.

She reaches for her dress and pulls it over her head as Cassian pulls up his pants. They stand there staring at each other, breathing heavily, wondering what happens next.

“I really do miss you, Nes,” he says, and Nesta nods.

“You were the one who left,” Nesta snaps, annoyed that he can so easily revert to how they were.

Cassian’s eyes are sad when he admits, “I thought you’d come, too.”

“And leave my family for yours?”

“You are my family,” Cassian says. “Come back to me.”

Nesta’s heart pangs. She should have followed Cassian when he moved back to Illyria. And staring at him, she’s starting to be unable to remember any of the reasons why she didn’t.

“It’s late, and we have a competition in the morning,” she says instead. “Let’s sleep on it.”

He wraps his arm around her waist and smiles. “Together?”

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t dispute it. She leads him back up to her room where they spend the rest of the night with their limbs tangled together. Nesta wakes with her heart on his chest and knows that after this weekend, she won’t be letting him out of her sight again.

#nessian #nesta x cassian #acotar #ballroom au #prompts #charincharge writes #smut #pwp #cassian #nesta

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simplyshelbs16xoxo · 4 years

Text

WIP Challenge

tagged by @sherlollyandspoilers and @writingwife-83 thanks!!

Give the titles of all the WIPs you are currently working on and a little about each one.

Sherlolly

I have a ton of WIPs for this ship, but only one that’s currently being worked on, but I’ll list the next one I want to finish too.

Wreck My Plans - S3 AU full of mutual pining and angst and romance. It’s one of my best! After their day of solving crimes, Molly Hooper has a lot to think about. Grappling with her love for Sherlock and her determination to keep the life she built with Tom whilst the detective was gone, she knows she's going to have to make a tough decision. Sherlock Holmes, heartbroken and unsure of what to do struggles to keep his distance when all he wants is to have her close.

Cornelia Street - Not posted yet. A fic I started early last year and put on the back burner due to personal reasons. It’s the next one I plan to finish and post if things go well. Can’t say much about it other than it’s based off the Taylor Swift song lol

To Love Like Fools - 3 Months after the phone call, Sherlock and Molly are inseparable best friends. But, lately, Sherlock has been giving mixed signals, giving Molly emotional whiplash. Silliness and romance ensues. Plus, Mary's alive and kickin'!

I took a break from writing it because I was tired of writing wedding scenes and this fic had one coming up, but then I never went back to it lol! It’s really good and funny and it honestly started off loosely inspired by the episode of Lucifer called ‘Vegas with Some Radish.’ It has 19 chapters up!

Kim Possible

A World of Fragile Things - The 3rd and final installment in my Center Will Not Hold series. An evil plot executed by Ron's nemesis, Fukushima, puts the lives of everyone he loves in danger. Kim, Ron, and Yori team up with an unlikely duo to save the world from the hands of yet another hellbent villain. I lost motivation for it, but I do want to finish it eventually. Reviews are scarce on it, so I’m not losing sleep on not posting for it in a while.

Doctor Who

Timeless - A fic I can’t divulge too much about because it’s not posted. It’s my first Doctor Who fic and even though the Timeless Child thing ruined my theory, I’m still gonna go with it cause I hate the timeless child thing lol plus ROSE TYLER AND JACK HARKNESS!

Syfy Alice

Mad as a Hatter (working title) - Not posted but chapter 1 was written. It was actually based off of this post I made that features an aesthetic (x)

#sherlolly #kim possible #doctor who #syfy alice #tag games

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karajaynetoday · 4 years

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ours, for the rest of forever | ashton irwin

Hello friends! Here is a godparent!Ash one shot, based on this blurb about being godparents with Ashton and also inspired in part by that scene in Season 5 of One Tree Hill when Brooke is randomly looking after a baby but has to also finish fashion sketches so Lucas comes to her rescue with babysitting and it is overall very soft and cute. You know the one! Lol.

A very big thank you to Jex @sadistmichael , Anna @cheekysos , Jae @jae-writes-fanfiction and Hailey @talkfastromance4 for proof-reading and providing feedback on this when it was in its draft stages. You’re all absolute gems!

Anyway, enjoy the softness and as always, please let me know what you think! I’ve got some thoughts for a potential part 2, so we’ll wait and see how part 1 goes :)

(This is a fem reader insert)

Word count: 3.3k words

Warnings: none

More writing here | send feedback/thoughts/suggestions here

When your best friend Alice told you she was having a baby, you were over the moon. She was honestly one of the most kind-hearted people you knew, and the amount of love in her heart for others would only bloom more for a little baby to hold and cherish. Her partner James had been by Alice’s side since your university days, and their relationship was one that was literally #goals. They’d moved over to Los Angeles because James had an opportunity to work at an indie creative agency working with music artists, and when you followed a year or so later to pursue a consulting job, they’d welcomed you with open arms into the little community they’d formed of Australian ex-pats, LA creatives and generally good quality, salt of the earth people.

In the early days, there were lots of late nights (that became early mornings) running amok in West Hollywood, going from one house party to the next, but as you grew older, it became more likely to be a quiet Sunday sesh in someone’s backyard, with a barbeque cooking and someone playing their favourite tunes on a portable speaker while you floated in the swimming pool or lounged about on the grass with everyone’s various pets in attendance. When you met Ashton, he was drumming shirtless at his own house party, and then doing shots with James and their friend Calum. You were more than a little intimidated, although he had a kind face and welcoming nature, Ashton was forthcoming his opinions. On the other hand, you were always more reserved, and it took you time to feel like you belonged with their crazy crew of friends. One night, you and Ashton ended up alone in the kitchen sharing some chicken nuggets and potato gems tater tots after a wild night on the house part dancefloor, and from there you could feel a solid friendship starting to take hold.

A few months after Alice and James told you they were expecting, they’d invited you and Ashton out to brunch at one of your favourite spots. It was a little hole-in-the-wall café in Studio City that you’d first come to after Ashton wouldn’t stop raving about how good their iced coffees were. You all ordered your favourites (avocado smash with a side of smoked salmon and a hash brown for you, raspberry hotcakes for Alice, a breakfast burger for James, and pulled pork eggs benedict with a side of halloumi for Ashton) and were chatting away about your weeks at work when Alice reached down and pulled two envelopes out of her tote bag and handed on to you and one to Ashton. You took them, looking confusedly at Alice and James, who had big goofy smiles on their faces.

“Well, go on! Open them!” Alice half-shouted excitedly, squeezing James’ hand on top of the table. You and Ashton glanced at each other, perplexed, before tearing open the envelopes and finding a card inside. Yours read, “Will you be my godmother?” in gold writing on the front, and inside was an ultrasound photo with a handwritten note from Alice that made you tear up when you started reading it. You could see in your peripheral vision that Ash had a corresponding card in his envelope too, and he was standing up to give James and Alice a hug with an enthusiastic “Fuck YES! Of course I will!” that garnered some disapproving looks from the middle-aged women sitting near you. You held it together just enough to stand up and exchange hugs and choke out a “Y-y-yes” to Alice and James, before basically bursting into full blown tears of happiness and apologising profusely as your brunch was delivered to the table. As you wiped away your tears and managed to begin eating your avocado smash, you felt Ashton squeeze your hand reassuringly under the table, and when you glanced towards him he was grinning at you with a smile that was as bright as a thousand suns.

It was a normal June day at the office a few months later when your phone pinged with a text from Alice in your group chat with her, James and Ashton that

read “It’s go-time. We’ll keep you updated!”. You replied with lots of exclamation points and crying emojis, and for Alice and James to let you know if they needed anything, and a few minutes later Ashton had penned a full paragraph about the beauty of the creation of life, how he knew that Alice and James would be incredible parents, and that he couldn’t wait to meet the little one once they made their way into the world. Ashton was frustratingly eloquent sometimes. Later that night, you received a photo message of a small, pink baby snuggled up on Alice’s chest, with James’ arm thrown around her shoulders, and the caption “Charlie Rose, ten fingers, ten toes. Come visit tomorrow, she can’t wait to meet you x” and you could barely sleep from the anticipation of meeting your darling goddaughter for the first time.

Ashton insisted on meeting you at the hospital so you could visit Alice, James and Charlie together (“Dude, we’re a godparent team here! A package deal! A dynamic duo! Can’t have you getting in there as the favourite from day one!”) and you’d never seen him more gentle or smitten than when the small, wriggly bundle of blankets that was Charlie Rose was placed in his arms. Ashton rocked her gently, kissing her head, and whispering to her about how incredible she was and how excited he was to see her grow. James was snapping away with his camera, and he asked you and Ash to stand together for a photo holding Charlie, which would later be stuck on your fridge for years to come (and possibly be your phone lockscreen, but no need to mention that to Ashton).

Charlie was a tricky baby at first, resisting sleep and struggling with colic, but Alice and James were incredible and persistent and by the time she was 6 months old, they basically had the hang of this parenting thing. They didn’t want to christen Charlie in a church, but instead decided to hold one of your cherished backyard barbeques as a naming celebration for her. All of your nearest and dearest were there, and Alice’s mum had even flown in from Australia to meet her newest granddaughter. Despite it being an incredibly informal affair, Ashton insisted on making a speech about how he felt to be in Charlie’s life, to love and support her through every milestone and challenge she might encounter along the way. Charlie was happily gurgling in Ashton’s arms as he spoke, and she reached up to grab at his cheeks when he told her he loved her. Alice’s mum insisted on getting photos of everyone, including you and Ashton holding Charlie, and you tried to ignore the butterflies you felt when Ash slid his arm around your waist and pulled you into his side for a cosy photo pose. Were you actually starting to fall for him, or was it just the baby fever talking? Because damn, that man looked good with a baby in his arms.

When Charlie was almost 12 months old, Alice decided that she wanted to go back to work a few days a week. Charlie would be in childcare for most of the days, but you’d recently adopted a flexible working arrangement with your own office, and you insisted that you would love to look after Charlie for one day a week. The older Charlie got, the more adventurous she became, so what you’d originally envisioned as nice, quiet days of baking and craft activities and napping soon became full of visits to the playground and the beach and the zoo. Once Ashton heard about your regular babysitting day, he insisted on clearing his schedule as best he could, and joined the outings you and Charlie went on. It’s so much easier to cope with her boundless energy (and occasional temper tantrums) when you and Ash are together, and you have to admit it’s just as nice on the quieter days as well, when you snuggle in on your couch to watch a Disney movie, or do some puzzles with Charlie on the lounge room floor.

When Ashton was back out on tour, he’d insist on FaceTiming with you and Charlie on your babysitting day so he didn’t miss out on all the fun. Sometimes he’d read her a story or sing her a lullaby before naptime, and sometimes the timezones wouldn’t work out and he’d end up calling during naptime, so the two of you just spent a little time catching up on each other’s lives from your opposite sides of the country or the planet. Ashton also loved collecting little souvenirs for Charlie on his touring travels, and your group chat with Alice and James was regularly filled with photos of snow globes or little soft mascot toys he’d found in one city or the next. It was so cute how excited Ashton got when he found a new souvenir for Charlie, and you couldn’t help but imagine how adorable he’d be when he had his own children and carried on little traditions like this for them too.

One particular weekend, Alice and James were going away overnight to attend a friend’s wedding nearby, and despite their anxiety and nerves (and admittedly, your own), they decided to leave Charlie with you for the night as your house is the main one besides their own that she spends time in. They dropped Charlie off just after lunchtime, and after a teary goodbye, she’s soon happily playing with her toy cars and trains on the lounge room carpet (including making broom-broom noises, what a cutie) when you get an unexpected call from your boss. They’re rambling about a client needing an urgent rewrite on something that you’d submitted the previous day, a pretty sizeable project, and you could feel yourself starting to fill with dread at the idea of having to rework the entire thing while also keeping Charlie happy and entertained. After managing to jot down the gist of the rewrite on the back of a colouring in page you found on your coffee table and ending the call with your boss, you took a deep, calming breath before looking over to where Charlie was still playing on the floor. Sure, she looked content and adorable now, but nap time was fast approaching, and then dinner, and then eventually bedtime, and there was nothing Charlie liked more than stomping her feet and putting up a fight where sleep was involved. It was time to call for help, and your fingers found Ashton’s contact in your phone and hit “call” before you realised what you were doing.

“Hey, how’s it going with my favourite girl?” Ashton answered cheerily, and your heart stopped beating for a moment before you mentally face-palmed when you realised that he was talking about Charlie, not you, being his favourite girl.

“Hey Ash! All good so far, but um… I think I’m going to need some help. My boss is having a crisis, so I need to smash out some edits and new content in the next three hours, but Charlie’s due to go for a nap and you know that she -” You could feel yourself starting to sound more panicked with each word that you spoke, but Ashton quickly cut you off with his soothing voice.

“That she likes to pick a fight at nap time, yes. A truly assertive future world leader on our hands, I reckon. I’m just finishing up a demo, but I’ll be there in 20 minutes. I’ll sort dinner as well, spaghetti sound okay?” He mused, sounding as calm as ever.

“That… would be amazing. Thank you. You’re actually the best human to exist, you know that?” You gushed, feeling some of your anxiety immediately begin to disappear.

Within half an hour, Ash was in your lounge room handling Charlie’s nap time negotiations while you were furiously typing away at your laptop at the kitchen counter and fielding more frantic phone calls from your boss. Another 20 minutes passed before Ash proclaimed victory as Charlie lost her battle against sleep, and he came to see you in the kitchen and make a start on dinner. You were so lost in your task that you didn’t hear him come in, and you jumped a mile out of your seat in fright when he gently touched your shoulder in greeting.

“Jesus christ, Ash! Don’t sneak up on me like that!” You huffed, taking your glasses off and rubbing your eyes in exhaustion.

Ashton leaned on the counter opposite you and raised his eyebrows in concern. “Sorry love, didn’t realise you didn’t hear me come in. You good?”

Damn it, why was he always so nice to you these days? Remember the days when you were scared of him because he used to argue with you about politics and the state of the world? Why did those seem somehow easier because fear was more natural to you than whatever this other feeling was that you were starting to have whenever Ashton was around you.

You sighed and put your glasses back on, frowning briefly at the screen before hitting save one more time (just in case your bad luck took a turn and fucked you over with lost documents).

“Yep. Sorry. It’s just been a bit of a day. Did Charlie go down okay?” You forced a smile as you glanced up at Ashton over the top of your laptop screen.

“Yeah, she gave in once I offered another bedtime singalong. And maybe, juuuust maybe, I might have mentioned something about some sweets after dinner…” Ash looked at you guiltily, licking his lips nervously. You rolled your eyes and shook your head at him, but you couldn’t keep the small smile off your face.

Ashton got started on making spaghetti while you tapped away at your computer, and soon enough you heard Charlie calling out for Ashton in her little sing-song voice on the baby monitor you had set up on the kitchen counter (“Asht-aaaaa! Where are youuuuu! Asht-aaaaa!”). The spaghetti smelled incredible, and when Ashton brought Charlie into the kitchen from her nap and she’d had a little while to play a bit more, you settled at the kitchen table to tuck into some dinner. Well, Charlie was more interested in playing with her food than actually eating it, but yours was delicious and for the third or fourth time that day, you thanked Ash profusely for being such a gem (to which he just gave you one of those dazzling smiles in response).

After dinner, Ashton took Charlie for a bath and read her a bedtime story while you powered through the final part of the project edits you needed to finish before your boss burst a blood vessel. You could hear Ashton reading to Charlie on the baby monitor, doing all of the different character voices, and her little giggles in response were both breaking and warming your heart. Warming it with the cuteness and how much you loved that little girl and her cheeky soul, and breaking it with the guilt about how it was supposed to be you snuggled up reading to her, but instead you were frantically typing about key messages, marketing strategies and budget lines. You were doing your last section of re-writes when Ash came back into the kitchen, and this time you didn’t jump when he gently placed his hands on your shoulders. In fact, you leaned into his touch, and moaned quietly in relief as his thumbs began to work into the tension in your muscles.

“How’s it going?” Ashton asked quietly, continuing to press his hands into your back and shoulders.

“Almost there. Mostly just proof-reading now, and then I can send it and not fucking think about it for another second until at least Monday. Ash, I’m so sorry again, I know this isn’t what you had in mind for your Friday night and I should’ve been more organised but I just didn’t think that -” You began to ramble, feeling the guilt wash over you.

“Hey, hey. Stop. It’s fine. We’re a team, remember? The dynamic duo? Gotta stick together. We’ve got a whole lifetime of dealing with Charlie meltdowns and milestones ahead of us, love. It’s our job and our blessing, for the rest of forever. Don’t feel guilty over one night.” Ashton said softly, squeezing your shoulders and pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. There were those butterflies again, and your skin was almost burning from where his hands had touched you. You simply nodded at his words, before returning to your laptop and the task at hand. Ashton stepped away and quietly began washing the dishes (honestly, is there anything this man didn’t do?) as you began typing again.

Finally, about twenty minutes later, you hit send on the email to your boss with the completed rewrites, and shut your laptop with a deep sense satisfaction, letting out a triumphant whisper-yell, mindful of the sleeping child down the hallway from you. Ash looked up from where he was sat on the couch, scrolling on his phone, and rushed over to high-five you when he realised that you’d shut your laptop.

“Right. You go shower and I’ll put the kettle on, then it’s one episode of Sons of Anarchy and then off to bed with you.” Ash began, tugging you out of your seat and pushing you towards your bedroom before you could protest.

“Wait… how did you know I was watching Sons of Anarchy?!” You turned and asked, with one hand on the door to your bedroom.

“I was stalking through your Netflix earlier when you were lost in editing land. Plus, I know you can’t resist a charming male lead who has a killer smile and looks damn good in a leather jacket.” Ash chuckled, shooting you a wink and one of those goddamn smiles.

You hated to admit it, but you felt so much better after your shower, and having Ash pull your feet up over his lap and absentmindedly run his hands softly across your legs from time to time wasn’t exactly bad either. You stuck to your promise of only one episode of Sons of Anarchy, and after pulling your groaning self up off the couch and jokingly half-carrying you to your bedroom door, Ashton bid you goodnight with a hug and a kiss to the forehead before disappearing into your guest room.

As you settled into your own bed, alone, and pulled the blankets up over you, you couldn’t help but think how nice it was to have Ash so present with you and with Charlie, and how sweet it would be in the morning to wake up together in the same house and go for breakfast at your favourite little brunch spot down the street, before waiting for James and Alice to return in the early afternoon. It was all your own little family unit, and as you felt yourself being lulled into sleep, you also felt a deep sense of content in your heart about the loved ones in your life. And then also there were those butterflies, just slowly but surely making their presence known, and getting a little bigger every time you thought of Ashton, and how much he loved Charlie, and how much she loved him and you, and how much you loved them both.

Shit. Did you actually love him? Were you falling in love with Ashton Irwin? Before you could panic too much, the need for sleep won out, and you slept peacefully knowing two of your favourite people were also sleeping calmly in the rooms either side of you.

More writing here | send feedback/thoughts/suggestions here

#my writing #ashton irwin #ashton irwin one shot #ashton irwin imagine #ashton irwin blurb #ashton irwin fanfiction #5sos imagine #5sos writing #there's going to be a part two #charlie rose ten fingers ten toes #soft AF up in here on a saturday morning #also i fucking miss going to brunch with my pals that I based alice and james on

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