#RYE MESS UP YOUR HAIR

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

Rye Whiskey

♢ Summary: Celebrating Sean's return to camp includes a drunk Arthur, which allows you to discover this whole new side of him. ♢Words: 2057 ♢Warnings: None except for the whole alcohol/drinking theme, basically it's just a one-shot of a fluff idea I had watching the video of drunk Arthur saying nonsense to Saddie. ♢a/n: I recommend reading it with the mindset that Arthur is in the same state as in "A Quiet Time" and listening to Rye Whiskey to put you in the mood! Wrote a little sequel for this! Read it here. ♢Credits: These gorgeous dividers are from @cafekitsune!

♪ "O Mollie O Mollie, it's for your sake alone,

That I leave my old parents, my house and my home!" ♪

Even if one didn't know Sean had returned to the gang, they could have noticed it right away hearing his cheerful singing, his thick Irish accent rolling the words even more musically. As the main entertainer of the gang, he was absolutely delighted to have a party thrown for him, and honestly, his big toothless smile made your heart feel warmer. Tonight, in the fresh air of New Hanover, it was only laughter, guitar notes, and drunken sounds that were echoing through the camp, everyone finally having a real good time since they had settled at Horseshoe Overlook after such a long period hidden in the ruthless cold of the Grizzlies.

You were sitting around one of the campfires, with Javier, Sean, Uncle, and John. Karen had also joined, gladly sitting on Sean's lap with a bottle in her hand; you were sure there was something between them, and the poor man probably deserved some sweet time after what he had been through. Talking about bottles, the floor was flooded with a large amount of them around your little singing group, almost like a big pond of green shining glass you all fed every few minutes when someone would empty one.

You had your fair share of drinks already, a slight blush burning your cheeks, the alcohol keeping you warm under the night's cold breeze and happy despite the gang's precarious situation. Funny, how whiskey would make everything easier and more entertaining, no matter who or where you were looking at.

Alright, you had to admit it, maybe you were a bit tipsy, but so were John, Javier, Sean, and Karen, their happy faces softly lit by the golden flames. But Arthur, -Oh Lord, Arthur was far beyond drunk, he was wrecked. Looking at him from where you were sitting and singing along, you could see just how much of a mess he was; at least three of his shirt's buttons were undone, said shirt opened messily; his hair scattered under his hat and looking a bit sticky, almost as if he had put his whole head into a barrel of beer; he had a constant smile on his face, and his body was swaying slightly as if he was an unstable bottle being tossed around by the waves of a tormented sea. You chuckled to yourself; he was quite a sight to see, and you wondered if you actually had ever seen him that drunk. A few weeks back, Lenny had told you about the wild night he and Arthur had at Valentine's saloon, but the man in question had slept in jail and came back to camp completely sober, which made you unable to see his incredibly drunken state and made you wonder what the hell he must have done to end up in said jail.

♪ "If the Oceans were whiskey, and I were a duck, -Quack quack !-

I'd dive to the bottom, and get one sweet sup !" ♫

You chuckled at how Arthur had added the quacking part, finding it quite endearing. It was almost as if it was a whole new side of him, and you couldn't stop watching. His deep voice sounded surprisingly good as he was singing with the others, and you caught yourself liking hearing it. After all, you always had a sweet spot for him, so you wouldn't complain about having the opportunity to look at him as much as you wanted without him noticing it (or at least, being too drunk to understand what exactly was happening). His bright blue eyes, sparkling with the orange ashes of the fire, along with his light brown hair and stubble, his black opened shirt, his thin lips curled into this big stupid smile... It was all making your heart melt more and more. You almost lost it when he started drinking again, roughly grabbing a nearby bottle, probably without even knowing what it was containing, and bringing it to his mouth, the golden liquid sliding in his throat, making his Adam's apple bob, some glistening drops of it flowing from the bottle all the way down his scarred chin, then his throat, ending up lost in the dark hairs of his chest.

You're suddenly pulled out of your starring trance by his loud voice cutting through the song's lyrics: "Lenny, mah boy! Come and sing with us."

"Arthur... You had too many drinks again..." Lenny answered with an amused giggle as he was passing behind him, catching his inebriated eldest as he had got up to greet him, but ended up stumbling on the way and almost tripped on him, it only made Arthur laugh at himself.

There was no need to specify that Lenny had trouble holding him upright, Arthur being under normal circumstances quite a weight to carry, and even more so when he was in such a state not making any effort to prevent his face from kissing the ground. Quickly, you got up yourself, and took a few steps towards the men, helping Lenny on his difficult task.

"Look who it is... Miss Y/L/N !" Arthur greeted you with foggy eyes and a wide grin as if you two hadn't seen each other for years when you had talked only a few hours ago. He instantly put one of his arms above your shoulders and the other around Lenny's. "C-come ooon, let's dance !"

Lenny sighed before laughing a bit, letting Arthur bring him into his drunken enthusiasm; you chuckled along with him, not complaining about being so close to the handsome cowboy you had your heart and eye on for a while, even if he was barely able to register what he was actually doing and with whom. As Javier started playing a lively song, Arthur, Lenny and you were throwing your legs up in the air; you laughed some more noticing how your favorite cowboy had a hard time actually following the rhythm. You couldn't believe just how euphoric he was tonight, almost as if the bottles had turned on a switch in his mind, making him go completely wild without any of his usual gruff restraints. Maybe that was what the alcohol did to everyone. Maybe that was what it was doing to you right now but you couldn't be sure if it was, precisely because you were happily drunk and carefree.

The night continued and you blushed realizing Arthur hadn't let you go, his arms always ended up around your shoulders or on it as he was sometimes leaning against you. His manly scent, a sweet mix of smoky tones brought by tobacco and gunpowder, and woody ones, supported by pine and leather traces. Your head was starting to feel dizzy just by smelling it, your mind even more intoxicated by it than the alcohol you had been drinking all night.

"Maybe..."

You brush away your thoughts, he was really drunk, and he could have been like that with anyone. You spent the rest of the night having fun, drinking some more, laughing, singing, the whole gang having more and more fun as everyone had loosened up thanks to the booze. However at some point, the main man of the party, Sean, disappeared with Karen, and people started going to bed. After all, it was almost morning already, the stars of the night not as bright anymore as they were around the middle of the night, subtle sun rays making their presence known behind the outlines of the mountains, but not appearing just yet.

It was now only you, John, and Arthur left around the campfire, the dark-haired man looking down at his brother at heart, an amused grin on his face. Arthur was half asleep at you and John's feet, bottle in one hand, his other arm curled up around your leg. With all the proximity and physical contact he had given you through the whole night, your heart and body had gotten warmer, and you had to make enormous efforts to keep your thoughts in line, not wanting to have any false hope about him and his behavior.

"He's so goddamn drunk... " John sighed.

"Clearly."

"Come on, let's carry him to bed." John said to you, getting up with difficulty from the log you both were sitting on.

"Aah, you guys are no f-fun!" Arthur protested, his voice even hoarser than usual due to his intoxicated self. "Come on, one more drink!"

"Nope, you're going to bed." John's own croaky tone answered his partner. He then looked at you while bending down, expecting you to help him lift Arthur's poor body.

You leaned over, helping John. Arthur was barely able to walk, leaning heavily on you and John, one of his arms above John's shoulder just as earlier with Lenny, but his other one around your waist. Your cheeks burned. Even if it was just drunken attention... You liked it.

The three of you started to walk to Arthur's tent, as fast as you could considering his feet were more brushing the ground than actually stepping on it. You just weren't capable of having any coherent thoughts at this point, your whole being living for the warm sensation of his big palm on your waist, feeling how his fingers were gently rubbing against your clothes.

"You two... Are the b-best..." Arthur slurred out in a rough voice when you had reached his tent. As gently as you both could, John and you were trying to lay him in his cot.

"Yeah, yeah. Goodnight, Arthur." John answered with an amused chuckle, placing one of his legs in its rightful place on his bed.

"Y/N, you're beautiful..." Arthur added in an almost unintelligible rumble, as you were pulling back from him. "I l-love you."

Your jaw dropped. What did he say? Did you hear that right? You froze, eyes glued to the outlaw, who was already turning around to sleep on his stomach, lips parted, a light snore emerging from his noose; he had instantly fallen asleep as if he had permission to now that he was in his cot.

John looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

"Don't take it seriously, Y/N." He advised you. "He already told that to Abigail and Karen before, even Saddie if I reckon right."

"Oh, erm... Alright, I won't." You answered your friend. Honestly, you probably would have slept better not knowing that; a sharp little sliver of disappointment subtly piercing through your heart. "Goodnight then, John."

"Goodnight, Y/N, thanks for the help." The scarred man greeted you before heading to his own tent. It was so late, you were sure Abigail would reprimand him for that tomorrow morning.

But that was John's problem, and you already had one yourself.

You took a last look at your sleepy cowboy before walking off to your own tent. He looked cute like this, hair messy, clothes completely disheveled; even his snoring was pretty endearing to you. You reluctantly turned your back to him, resisting the urge to actually lay with him in his cot. After all, he wouldn't have complained, wouldn't he? He probably wouldn't even have noticed... These thoughts got stuck in your brain as you lay in your own cot, pretty tired yourself after partying all night, your spirit slowly drifting away in the realm of dreams, sleep troubled by blurry visions of what had happened during the night, a beautiful, charming, stupid smile keeping on reappearing from time to time in your slumber.

Arthur opened his eyes. "It hurts"; were the first words that came to his mind. His back, his neck, his goddamn head, everything was hurting him. Getting old was definitely not a piece of cake. He rubbed his eyes, which felt dry and burnt, just like his thorny throat, even if a slight string of saliva had slid from his mouth. Getting that drunk was definitely too frequent for him lately, the other night with Lenny still engraved in his memory and his tired body, fed up with his poor drinking decisions. He slowly got up, rubbing his face, carefully avoiding his gaze from looking at the sun, its light way too powerful for him in this hungover state.

Looking around the camp, he smiled internally seeing Karen emerging from Sean's tent. Little bastard had gotten himself a good time last night. While thinking back about what happened, he had a hard time remembering all of it, as often when he was that drunk. Maybe it was better that way, considering his impressive capacity to get in trouble and make a fool of himself in those kinds of situations. However this time, something was lingering in the back of his mind.

You.

Your delicate smell, how the soft fabric of your clothes felt under his fingers, how your voice sounded into his ears, how smooth and mellow your leg was. How the hell did he knew about all that? He focused, frowning, trying so hard to remember what had happened, but all he had was these sensations, those pleasant, haunting sensations. He couldn't help but feel flustered all by himself, sat on his bed, cheeks getting slightly flushed, just imagining the reasons why he suddenly knew so much about the grain of your skin and the warmth of your body against his;

He prayed deeply he didn't do anything stupid with you; Lord knows how important you were to him. Hell, he had thought about you a lot already, thought about offering you flowers or maybe a nice jewel, something that would be as pretty as you even if to him, no physical object could ever compete with your astonishing beauty and your adorable, sweet, sunny personality.

But before all that, he needed to have a few words about last night with you. Probably would stumble on his words, look like an idiot again, but at least he would be able to be close to you, just like in those sweet lingering memories in his head.

Sequel here.

a/n : Alright so... Here it is! My first one-shot ever. Please, if you notice anything, any mistakes, or a weird-sounding sentence: let me know! English isn't my first language and I'm actually anxious as hell to publish this! Anyway, thanks for reading this until the end and take care <3

[ch6sos]

a/n: this is mainly for black gender neutral readers or those with coily/curly hair but anyone can read :)

Whenever Kento wants to learn something new, he devotes his entire time to it. No, seriously. People around him often ask how he manages to master so many skills, or they gape in awe when they see him in action, because it always looks like he’s a natural. But the truth is, Kento practices—endlessly.

Take cooking, for example. He wasn’t always good at it. His parents were the first to teach him about the importance of basic household skills—especially cooking. They told him, "If you want to survive in the real world, you need to know how to take care of yourself, and cooking is essential."

But his first attempts weren’t smooth at all. He didn’t master stegt flæsk on the first try, nor could he bake the perfect rye bread, or make udon from scratch. In fact, when he first attempted cooking, even the boxed mac and cheese stuck to the pan.

Frustrated but determined, Kento began watching his family closely. He'd observe his mother in the kitchen, occasionally passing her ingredients or awkwardly chopping vegetables. He read cookbooks, borrowed recipes from his grandmother—learning both Japanese and Danish dishes, and followed each step carefully—getting the right ingredients, measurements, and temperatures just right.

That’s how Kento approached every skill he became interested in—whether it was fencing, archery, learning to play the violin, or pottery. He would buy all the necessary equipment, immerse himself in content about it, and fixate on it until he was satisfied with his skill level—like a Sim locked into a single task.

So, when Kento started dating someone with coily hair, he applied the same method.

He noticed how much time they spent on their hair—the hours dedicated to braiding, curling, and washing. He wasn’t the type of partner to just sit back and watch, especially when they were feeling tired.

He went into research mode: watching videos, reading articles, and practicing. Whenever he had time off from work, he’d be on his couch, blue light glasses perched on his nose, eyes glued to YouTube tutorials explaining how to care for coily hair—the products to use, the best protective hairstyles, and the time required for proper maintenance.

He’d search on his Samsung, scrolling through article after article written by people with coily hair, trying to understand how he could help make their routine a bit easier.

One day, his partner caught him with a mannequin head in his lap, his legs crossed on the couch, glasses slipping down his nose, fingers moving as he tried to braid from the scalp down. His brows were furrowed in concentration, teeth gnawing on his bottom lip.

“Kento, what are you doing?” they chuckled, glancing at the mannequin on his lap.

He let out a small huff, not annoyed but a little sheepish. “I’m trying to learn how to braid, or at least take care of hair.”

They laughed softly, seeing his frustration as he undid yet another braid that wasn’t quite right. “Why don’t you practice on me?”

“I don’t want to ruin your hair,” he replied, frowning as he started over again, still a bit clumsy but improving.

“I’ll teach you,” they offered, amusement in their voice, touched by how much he wanted to get it right.

Kento’s eyes lit up in excitement, as if he’d forgotten that watching them take care of their own hair was the best lesson he could get. "That’d be great," he said with a lazy grin, pushing his glasses up.

For the next few weeks, they taught him everything—how they followed their daily hair routine, how they carefully braided and styled their hair, and how long it took to recreate certain looks. Kento watched intently, always hesitating before touching their hair, afraid he might mess something up. But with gentle encouragement, he grew more confident.

Eventually, he learned enough to help out. On days when they were tired, Kento would sit them down, placing pillows beneath them, and take over. He’d part their hair with a comb, splitting it into neat sections, his hands gentle as he worked, always mindful not to tug too hard. They’d both watch a silly reality show on TV while he braided or styled their hair.

He even learned how to wash it delicately, stepping into the shower with them to help massage their scalp and rinse out the conditioner. He bought the right products, ensuring they always had what they needed. Sometimes, he’d try new hairstyles on them—ones even they hadn’t thought of—just to keep things interesting.

For Kento, it wasn’t just about learning a new skill. He loved spending that quality time together, knowing that every effort he made to help them made a difference. And in those quiet, intimate moments, he felt truly happy.

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

One For The Road [1]

Cecil Dennis x AFAB!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals• masterlist • ao3• want to be tagged? • request info • ko-fi •

Series Masterlist

Summary: Cecil forgets he invited you over.

A/N: The biggest thank you to @thexsanctuaryx for beta reading this and fixing some of my British-isms <3 I owe you my life!

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, mentions of weed, weed use, fleshlights, Cecil talking about 'Catcher In The Rye', fingering, Cecil coming in his pants, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 3404

You Sit and Talk to Me on the Floor

You lean back against the sofa, getting comfortable as your high pleasantly buzzes in the back of your head.

You’d been pretty pissed when you’d got here and Harry was nowhere to be found. (You, him and Cecil and Harry’s new girlfriend Mary-Ann, who you hadn’t met yet, had plans to hang out and watch a film. Or at least that’s what Cecil had told you.) He’d grinned when he’d opened the door, “What are you doing here?”

Turns out he’d been high (unsurprising) when he’d messaged and asked you. And had promptly forgotten all about it without letting Harry or Mary-Ann know. 

And now Harry was ‘working’. Or something. Cecil wasn’t exactly clear. 

Ever since he’d been dumped by his girlfriend Cecil had been staying with his cousin to ‘get back on his feet’, or more correctly, ‘make a mess, panic, tidy the house in a crazy rush to a standard that would put a professional kitchen to shame and then repeat���. 

He’d apologised for a good fifteen minutes when he realised his mistake, and had offered you a brownie as he ushered you inside. 

“Is there weed in this?” 

He stared at you like you’d grown an extra head. “It’s a brownie.”

“You know pot isn’t a standard ingredient, right?”

He’d pulled a face that made you laugh. “What’s the point in that?” 

.

Cecil sits on the floor, leaning against the sofa and lolling his head back as he talks to you, “I’m really glad you came actually, sorry again,” he smiles shyly, “I was kinda lonely.”

“You can hire people for that.” You tease and he snorts.

“No, that’s not what I mean. Besides,” he shrugs, “I’m broke.” 

You giggle, finding it far funnier than you normally would. 

He grins and takes a swig of his beer before another hit from his bong. 

“How many brownies did you have?” You ask, interested, you’d only had one. 

“Two… and a half.” 

“And you’re smoking too?” 

“Yeah? I mean,” he puffs up his chest proudly, “I got a high tolerance.”

“If there were an olympics in getting high you’d probably get a gold.” 

“I definitely would get a gold, I bet they used to have that, weed consuming, in the olympics I mean. They used to have poetry and people competing naked and everything, and then it got ruined.” 

“With clothes or lack of poems?” You smile.

“Both.” He nods confidently. “Though maybe some clothes is a good idea…” He ponders for a moment, “I bet if you run and you got no pants on your dick just,” he flops his hand around like crazy and you giggle, “I mean, that would hurt. And boobs!”

“Boobs?” You wheeze out. 

“Yeah, I bet some boobs would hurt too, you need those high impact bras and all that.”

“How do you know about that?” You run your hand through his hair absentmindedly, he always did have such soft, rich curls. 

“I’m a guy of knowledge, you know. I know many things.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

“Like what then?” 

He leans a little into your touch, smiling as you stroke his hair. “Erm, I know that this,” he taps the part of the sofa he’s leaning against, “is called a sofa skirt.” 

“Is not.”

“Is too.” He grins at you when you poke out your tongue. “I know the sky’s blue because of Rayleigh scattering-”

“What’s Rayleigh scattering?” 

“Why the sky is blue.”

“Cecil…” You roll your eyes playfully and he giggles. 

“Okay, okay, it’s to do with light particles and how they,” he waves his hand to the side making a buzzing noise, “move about when they’re in a wavelength.”

“How do you know that?”

He shrugs, “I dunno. Just do. Something stuck once I guess.”

You nod, “Pretty impressive skill.”

“Nah,” he shakes his head, “I don’t control what sticks, I’ve literally read every single math book I ever could on how to do algebra when I was in high school and nothing.” He pauses and then smiles, “I can quote Catcher in the Rye to you though.” 

“What?” You shift a little, leaning closer. “Like the whole thing?”

“Mostly,” he shrugs again but he puffs his chest out, obviously pleased at your interest. “But I guess I could just be making it up if you don’t know it word for word and don’t have a copy in front of you.” 

“I trust you.” You say kindly and he beams. 

“Well, okay, look, first paragraph, because it’s easy,” he swallows and clears his throat. 

“If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth.” He puts on a voice as he speaks, at first it’s jokey as he tries to poke a little fun at himself, but as he continues it relaxes, becomes more like he’s inhabiting the voice of the character. 

“That’s very, very cool.” You grin and he smiles shyly, looking down at his hands before taking another hit. “Yeah, well, doesn’t help much.”

“You like Catcher in the Rye?” 

He nods. “Got an A+ on that report.” He grins, “I always thought it was sad, you know? The story I mean. Just a kid trying to be an adult because that’s what society implies, when really he just wants to be… you know… enjoy his childhood.” He nods a little. “I like that his little sister is more mature than him, that he has this innocence to him. That even though the story is about a loss of that, in the end, I dunno, I don’t think it fully happened.” 

You incline your head, staying quiet so he’ll continue.

“I mean, I think he’s still innocent. Still playing at being an adult. Like everyone is.” He shrugs, shaking his head. “But whatever.” 

You give his shoulder a light shove, “But whatever? Cec,” you lean forward, your hand still in his hair, “that’s so good, like insightful.” You say sincerely. 

He gives you a bashful smile, his eyelashes fluttering a little as you compliment him. “Yeah, you know, thanks.” There’s the smallest flush to his cheeks. “You’re so smart and everything so that means a lot.” 

“Cec,” you say softly, shaking your head, “you gotta think better of yourself.”

He nods halfheartedly.

“Really, you got to, you…” You pause, trailing off as something catches the light and inadvertently, your eye. It’s shoved to the side, on the floor between the right hand side of the sofa and the wall. 

Cecil looks around to where you’re staring, mildly interested for a moment before his eyes widen. “Oh, shit, sorry!” He goes to push it further under the couch and out of sight but doesn’t reach far enough and ends up falling onto his side and flailing about. 

“Is that what I think it is?” You giggle, unable to stop yourself. 

“Erm…” He looks up at you, trying his best to give you a winning smile from the floor. “That depends on what you think it is?” His voice is hopeful. 

“A flesh light?” 

He groans and puts his hand dramatically over his face. 

You laugh harder. 

“Ugh.”

“It is?” You ask excitedly, unsure why this is amusing you quite so much. 

“Mhmmm.” 

“Yours?” 

“Yes.” 

“Oh my goooooood,” you lean down and ruffle his hair until he has to take his hand off his face to bat you away and starts laughing, “Cecil getting it on in the living rooooooom.” 

“No!” He lies.

“Ohhhhh, is that what you were doing before I got here?” The glee in your voice is palpable. “Is that why it took you so long to answer the door?” 

“Stop.” He tries to pout but keeps laughing. “I hadn’t got that far yet.”

“Yet?” 

“You came over! That’s more important than jacking off.” 

You snort loudly. “I’m honoured.” 

He pulls a playful face and lightly smacks your calf. 

“I wouldn’t have stopped having a wank just because you came over.” You joke and Cecil bursts into hysterics. 

He manages to calm down long enough to spit out his next words, “I wouldn’t ask you to stop.” 

“What?” 

“If you wanted to get down and whatever, that’s fine, I’d just hang in the kitchen.” 

It’s your turn to have a laughing fit. “Oh, you’re so slimy.” You tease, adjusting your skirt as you move.

“No, no,” he sits up, still giggling, his cheeks flush. “I wouldn’t watch or listen, I’m not being a perv.” 

“Sure, sure.” 

“Hey! I don’t need to spy on people, I can, you know.”

“What?” You grin.

“See it on the TV whenever.” 

You start laughing again. You had been expecting a bit of macho, ‘I can pick up willing partners whenever I want to’, not ‘I’ll watch some porn’. 

“Yeah?” You prod him in the arm playfully. 

“Yeah.” He nods, “that’s what I was doing before you came over.” 

“Oh, good to know.” You chuckle. Part of you knows it’s the weed that’s making you a little less guarded than you usually were, but you can’t help yourself. “What were you watching then?”

“Well, I hadn’t decided yet.” He shrugs, but he’s grinning, obviously quite happy to talk with you about this. “I was having a look.” 

“On what?” 

“PornHub,” he shuffles towards the TV on his knees and grabs the remote and then his phone. “I cast it, see,” the screen mirrors his phone as he scrolls through. “I was just browsing.” 

“You say that so casually.” You goad him playfully. 

“Yeah, well, I mean why not? Most people look at porn.” 

You nod.

“Don’t you?” He asks, quite innocently as he cocks his head to the side. 

Heat rushes under your skin. “Well, erm, yeah, I mean.” 

He grins, but not in a gloating way, more pleased that you’re both sharing something. 

“What, erm,” you squirm a little, feeling foolish and trying to push the focus back to him. “What do you normally watch?” 

“Like porn wise?” 

“Mmhmmm.” 

He grins, “lots actually, my tastes are very varied.” He says like he’s talking about wine. “Sometimes two girls, sometimes a guy and a girl, sometimes two guys, sometimes a group. Sometimes just someone by themselves.” He shrugs and looks up at you, when he sees you’re still listening he swallows and continues, “I got a favourite.” 

You nod, your mouth dry. 

“It’s two girls, erm, it’s not even like, that,” he waves his hands, “it’s just, it’s quieter, I guess? They sound more… natural. Like it’s not being put on for show, and they got like, these suits. It’s not like latex or anything, not that there’s a problem with that, it’s sort of like body suits, skin tight, but hands are free, and boobs, and,” he motions to his crotch, “down there, and… they sort of… like just…” his face reddens a little more. “They, rub together in like missionary and come and… and it just sounds so nice. They look like they’re really enjoying it.” 

He looks up at you again and fidgets, his eyes dark. 

The nervous expression, the flush to his cheeks shouldn’t be endearing, shouldn’t make you feel a twist of heat in your stomach. 

“I could… show you?” He says quietly, like he’s trying to tiptoe around something else. 

You find yourself nodding once, saying, “Okay.” before you even realise it. 

He finds it quickly on his phone and sits down next to you on the sofa, a hands width away. 

You stare at the TV while looking at him from the corner of your eye. 

“This reminds me of high school.” He says quietly, biting his lips together. “A group of us used to, when porn was harder to get hold of, used to like, watch it together and smoke.” 

You nod, a quick reply simply not coming. 

The video starts, the two women posing for the camera before they make their way to the bed.

“I used to worry,” he continues, “because sometimes weed makes me really horny.” He shrugs, flinching inwardly at why he said that. 

“I get that.” You swallow. 

One woman climbs on top of the other. 

“You do?” He asks. 

“Yeah,” why are you speaking, why can’t you just shut up? “The horny thing.” 

“From smoking or watching porn?” He asks innocently. 

“Both, I guess.” 

He hums, nodding. “Me too.” 

You both continue to watch for a moment in an odd silence, the air is thick with an oppressive weight. You want to look at him again, want to see his soft eyes and plump lips. 

Cecil shifts a little, fidgeting once before he pushes the heel of his hand against his leg and… wait… not his leg. 

His erection is straining against his jeans.

You can’t help but look, going over the shape and outline and- You freeze. He’s looking right at you.

“Sorry.” He gives you a sheepish smile as if he was the one that had been caught perving. “Guess it’s a bit more obvious on me.” He jokes, but the tips of his ears still flush. 

“No, yeah, I mean…” you stumble over your words, trying to fill the gaps as the moans from the TV grow louder and… they did sound like they were having fun. “I mean,” you swallow and start again, “I, if I had a dick, you’d see it,” you motion your hand upright. 

“Yeah?”

You nod. 

“Not just saying that to make me feel better?” He asks, gently nudging you in the shoulder.

“No… I would.” 

He gives you a sweet look, but it’s still disbelieving. 

“Cecil, I’m not lying.” 

“I don’t know…” 

“Why would I lie?”

“You’re too nice all the time, it’s not lying it’s ‘sparing my feelings’.” He motions with his hands.

“Well, I’m not,” you fold your arms. “I’m being truthful.”

“Okay.”

“Cecil.”

“I said okay,” he teases. “I’m agreeing with you.”

“But you don’t believe me.” 

He nods. “That’s true.”

You huff air through your nose, exasperated. “I’m not lying.”

“Sure.”

“There’s no point to me lying.” Your voice raises a little at the end, which only makes it sound more like you are lying. 

“Okay.” 

“Oh, fuck you.” 

He laughs, “just because you’re a dirty and bad liar, doesn’t mean-”

You don’t know why you do it, but you grab a hold of his hand and press it forcefully between your legs. “See?” Your voice sounds sure of itself, like a gloat. But your mind is just only catching up with your actions. And the sensation of Cecil’s warm, thick fingers against your core. 

You’re wearing a skirt, the only thing separating your skin from his is the thin material of your panties which are undoubtedly damp. 

“Oh,” he breathes, his cock twitches. “Yeah, you’re…” 

You freeze, still holding his hand against you. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. 

His fingers brush a little against the cotton. The action takes you by surprise and much to your dismay a weak gasp leaves your lips.

He glances up to your face as you keep your eyes closed, screwing them shut to avoid his gaze. But seemingly he finds what he was looking for. 

He moves his fingers again, a little firmer this time, tracing a soft circle against your clit and you shudder. 

There’s a pause, a fraction of a second as he waits for you to stop him, to tell him no. 

You don’t. 

So he does it again, and again, and again until you’re squirming. Your breath is coming out fast as your hips shallowly move in time with his fingers. 

He inches closer to you, pressing his chest against your shoulder and resting his forehead on your temple. 

Cecil moans softly in your ear as you whine, your lip between your bottom teeth as you watch the two women fuck on screen without really seeing. 

He slowly presses on the damp patch, rubs along your core before he slips your underwear to the side and touches you lightly. 

You jolt, gasping, turning your head to press your forehead to his. 

He groans as he traces his forefinger along your slit, marvelling at the slick that coats the tip of his finger before he lightly pinches your clit. 

“Cecil,” you breathe. 

“It’s okay,” he mutters, kissing your cheek and then your lips gently, “it’s okay, it’s just a friend helping another one out. Just helping…” He drapes his free arm around your shoulders, his fingers mirroring the pattern of his other hand on your arm. 

He kisses you again, soft and sweet as he lightly teases you with the tip of his tongue. 

The second you part your lips he inhales deeply, angling his hand and pushing two fingers deep inside while flicking your clit with his thumb. 

You gasp, your moans music to his ears as he kisses you wantonly as he curls and strokes your walls. 

“Oh, god, you’re really wet,” he bites his lip, grunting as he presses closer, curls deeper until you’re bucking and practically sobbing. “Really tight, mmm, feel so nice inside.” He mumbles, not really registering what he’s saying as he pants in your ear. “Thank you for letting me, oh,” he shivers as you whine, grabbing hold of any part of him you can reach and clinging on, silently begging him to continue.

“Is that good? Is that where it’s nice?” He swallows, stroking the same spongy spot again and groaning when your thighs quiver. 

You nod rapidly and he coos, “oh good, good, mmm,” he kisses your neck, breathing deeply to fill his lungs with your scent. “God, so nice and warm, bet you got the cutest little pussy? Fuck.” He groans, moving so he can rub his crotch against your thigh, “you’ll let me look sometime? I would love to see it, bet it’s so sweet.” 

Your eyes roll back, your muscles tensing as he keeps moving, keeps pulling you closer to that edge. Your moans are overshadowing the sounds of the TV, the squelch of his fingers fucking you relentlessly bouncing around the room. 

You can hardly think, hardly form words, your mind obsessed with the reaction that all consuming pleasure that is so, so near. 

“Bet it’s the prettiest pussy I’ll ever see,” he groans, the friction of his jeans burning deliciously against his cock as he rubs himself over your thigh, making him lightheaded. Being near you is making him lightheaded. The fact that you’ve let him touch you, and be in you is dizzying and those sounds you’re making are enough to make him come on the spot. Right now, so close. Just a tiny little more friction and-

You clench around his fingers, crying out as your orgasm is pulled expertly from you. Cecil whines, keeps moving his thick fingers in that blinding pattern and pressure, as he follows you instantly. Your blissed out expression driving him clean over the edge. 

You shiver, your thighs shaking as you come, as the pleasure seems to stretch onwards and as Cecil moans softly in your ear. 

You both breathe, Cecil’s fingers still inside you as you stroke a hand through his hair. A wet patch starts to bleed into his boxers, but he doesn’t care. Not when you’re so close and he feels so happy.

He opens his mouth to speak and-

There’s a key in the lock, and the front door opens. You both jump, moving away from each other to the opposite ends of the sofa as Harry comes back. 

You feel oddly empty without his touch, without his fingers buried inside. 

Harry pokes his head around before he comes into the room, he looks at the bong and beer and porn still playing on the TV. “You guys started the party without me?” He kids. 

You laugh, not entirely convincing. 

“Cecil, man, what’re you doing showing off your porn playlist huh?” Harry jokes and Cecil shrugs. 

He’s using his forearm to cover any signs of his softening erection and wet patch, while he dangles his other hand off the arm of the sofa, out of Harry’s sight. Where his cousin can’t see how he rubs his slick covered fingers together.

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh

@romanarose @strangerhands @saturn-rings-writes @lonelyisamyw-0love @queerponcho

@steven-grants-world  @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @lunar-ghoulie

@silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin @apesarecuul @reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom

@alwaysmicado @mangoslushcrush @marc-spectorr @soft-girl-musings  @spxctorsslxt

@novarosewood @pygmi-cygni

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

[jobesbabe]

Summer Baby/ Dominik Szoboszlai Part 2

It’s July, 2024. A few of the Liverpool boys are looking for a getaway before and between the summer series and stumble upon your mom’s vacation home in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. There, they spend their time enjoying the sun and one in particular, enjoying the company. You find yourself falling for a charming Hungarian- Domi.

a/n- Heyy, if you haven’t read part 1, go do that now, but if you’re returning to read, THANK U SM!! pls reblog and comment to lmk u want more! ty!

PART 2

warnings- Fluff for this part, maybe more to come in the next 😉

“Liverpool fc?” Your mom asked from the other side of her door. “The red ones with the bird as the logo? They're the boys who are staying here?

You nodded your head. “They're awfully nice too. Super polite, all of them. Even Harvey and Curtis!” You told her.

Though you two lived at your vacation home, it was separated from where the boys themselves stayed. The house from the outside was one massive house, but on the inside it was basically half of a house, sharing the back porch and entrance to the beach.

Your mom was getting ready to spend some time at her boyfriend’s place further north at the beach and she decided it was best for you to stay here with the crew of them. Curtis, Harvey, Caoimhin, Dominik, Conor and Bobby.

You didn’t mind, you liked the bunch of them, especially Dominik. He was so effortless in everything he did and still made it look sexy.

After your walk the night prior, he had given you his personal number.

“So the two of us can know each other better,” he had said, causing you to smile like a little kid, and you knew it.

Now, you were snapped out of your thoughts by your mother.

“Y/n, honey, don’t you think you should check if the guests want breakfast?” She asked in a rhetorical way, telling you to get your butt moving for the boys on the other side of the door.

Opening it, you slinked into a calm and peaceful time you knew was only because the boys were all sleeping. It was 9 am and you expected at least one person to be awake and getting ready for the day.

Going into the kitchen, you reached for the stocked fridge’s handle and took out eggs, bacon, cheddar cheese, rye bread and butter.

You got out a bowl and started scrambling some eggs when you felt a tap on your right shoulder.

You turned to be met by Dominik, with fluffy messed up morning hair and no shirt in sight. Eyes lingering on his pecs for a moment too long you look up.

He’s smirking, clearly seeing the effect he has over you and using it to his advantage.

“Good morning, Domi,” You said to him emphasizing the nickname he had encouraged you to call him.

“morning y/n,” His accent a bit thicker because of the morning grogginess in his voice. He rubbed his eyes. “So, what- what’re you making?” Dominik asked.

“A proper American breakfast of eggs, toast, bacon,” You told him.

“mmm,” He said, getting closer to look over you and grabbing your waist with one hand in the process. You gasp a bit before smiling again and hoping he doesn’t notice.

You turn your head to the man towering over you, breathing in his natural scent for a moment before returning your attention to the eggs. He chuckles under his breath and you can feel his chest vibrating for a second. He was well aware of the effect he had on you.

“How do you like your eggs?” You ask Domi.

“hm, I love a good scrambled egg,” He says to you in his accent and then he gets even closer than he is already to whisper in your ear, “but a fried egg sounds like heaven.”

You close your eyes in the moment, nodding for a moment before your alone time is interrupted.

“S’up guys,” Harvey says in his loud voice, followed by Bobby and Conor. You expect Caoimhin & Curtis to be close behind.

Dominik takes a few steps back from your body and removes his hand from your waist.

You turn to the three newly awaken boys, “Breakfast, How’d you like your eggs?”

“I suppose scrambled is fine for me,” Bobby starts.

“I second that,” Harvey says.

“Me too,” Conor says.

Walking in, Curtis groans out, “whatever it is I agree,”

With that, you pour the lot of them coffee, with the exceptions being Curtis and Dominik who requested espresso shots. You began brewing them from your espresso machine and placing them in small cups in front of the two men, who downed them like water.

Preparing the plates, you put toast and bacon on all the settings, but scrambled on the four that agreed to it and sunny side up on Caoimhin’s since thats what he requested fresh out of bed. Lastly, you placed Domi’s fried egg on the plate and began bringing them out.

“Scrambled for these guys, Sunny side up for Caoimh, and a fried egg for Domi,” You said, slightly proud of yourself.

The round table had an extra setting you hadn’t remembered putting out, complete with a plate and silverware.

Domi grabbed your hand before you could slink back to the kitchen.

“Thank you y/n, but we were thinking you’d join us for breakfast.” He told you.

You nodded, aware of the side eye you were receiving from Curtis, who definitely was not a morning person.

“I’d like that,” You said.

An hour later, you were all still at that table laughing your heads off as Curtis told you a story of Harvey back when he was fresh out of Fullham’s academy and had made a terrible hair choice.

“Man, that’s gotta be like in photos somewhere, right?” You asked between chuckles.

“No! no, no, no, no, there’s definitely no photos of me from then,” Harvey exclaimed, even though there were probably hundreds, on Curtis’ phone alone.

You all laughed again.

“Well, it’s nearly 10:45, I should get to cleaning this up,” You told the boys, pushing out your chair and getting up.

“I can help you, if you’d like,” Domi offered as you shook your head no.

“no, please that’s not necessary,” You said grabbing four plates, and despite your efforts, Domi followed you with the other three.

The rest of the players rolled their eyes at the obviously infatuated Hungarian man who was acting like a lovestruck boy or a lost little puppy.

You had to admit, that he was cute. Cuter than any guy who had ever laid his eyes on you. You smiled as he pushed you out of the way to get to the sink, grabbing the sponge and the soap.

“Domi, please let me do it,” You told him.

“No édesem, we can do it together,” He told you.

Your heart fluttered and he stepped out of the way for a moment before both of his tattooed arms surrounded you and took control of the dish washing.

You giggled as he splashed water at your face and you did it back to him.

“édesem, what does that mean?” you asked Dominik in a flirty tone, already knowing the answer.

“It means honey, like how people would say darling in english,” he nods to prove his point.

“I like it,” You say smiling.

As you finish the dishes, he hugs you from the back.

“Beach walk later?” he asks you like its already your routine.

“deal,” you tell him.

He smirks.

——————————

a/n - Ahh, thats it for now, lmk if you like it!!

[calicheer-cove]

Helper

Summary: Billy has detention and is ordered to spend it at the school’s library. He notices Chrissy, she notices him, and she accidentally drops a cart full of books; he offers to help her.

TW - Mentions of past and current abuse and ED

Short fic

Billy spoke back to Mrs. O’Donnell and earned himself a week’s worth of detention. The usual detention class required maintenance work this week, so he had to go to the library to serve his time. Predictably he’s bored out of his mind, having nothing to do except work on his assignments. A head of strawberry blonde hair catches his eyes. Chrissy was assisting the librarian, minding her own business as she pushed the cart of returned books. She kept to herself knowing that Billy is watching her. Sensing his pacific blue eyes following her every step, making sure to zip up her jacket to the very top. Was she being paranoid? There was no way that the California bad boy had the likes of her on his radar. Still a part of her did wonder if maybe he did indeed look her way. Maybe just a quick peek.

Her eyes met his as she walked by. How strange. She felt an unusual sense of warmth flood her soul when their eyes met. Almost light on her feet as if she were walking upon a cloud. Well clearly gravity had a different plan in mind as the book cart tumbled down the very short flight of stairs. How is it that three steps could create such a major crash was beyond her.

Chrissy quickly got into fix it mode, trying not to let the eyes of other students bother her. Oh how she hated being the center of attention, a rather unfortunate irony to befall Hawkins’ cheer captain. She collected as many copies of Catcher in the Rye and assorted classic novels as she could. As she placed them back into a neat pile, she was greeted by the sight of Billy walking towards.

“Oh god! Please no!” Her brain screamed.

He picked up the old cart with ease and placed it back up, a good distance away from the top step. He turned around and got down on his knees as well. He wasn’t an avid reader, but he recognized a few familiar titles: Robin Hood, Treasure Island, and Oliver Twist. His mom used to read these stories to him when she was still there. Hearing those tales would help him forget about life even if it was for a chapter or two.

“Need some help there?” He whispered.

Chrissy blinked, that’s the last thing she would have expected from him, “Um- yes please.”

Lithe fingers and strong fingers grasped and carried the supplies back onto the cart. It didn’t matter if the books were out of order, she was just glad knowing that the mess was nearly gone. Chrissy wasn’t sure what compelled her, but she couldn’t help but stare at him. Billy’s body was bent, his broad back pressed up and motioning against the material of his white tank top. She could see the way his muscles flexed and relaxed as he stood up and brought over another stack.

“Thank you Billy, I really appreciate your help,” Chrissy said as she placed a copy of Wuthering Heights next to Carrie.

“No problem,” he stated nonchalantly.

There were only a few selections left to collect, that’s when it happened. One pair of hands, pale like snow and the other warm like the sun had met in the middle. The moment was brief, definitely accidental, yet it seemed to go on forever. His nails looked so pretty, cut to a short length. Hers shined beneath the light several feet above them, rosy pink to match her scrunchie and pink pearl earrings. Despite his rough exterior, his hand felt soft on top of hers. He noticed the way her golden bracelet dangled from her wrist, the gentle curvature of her fingers seemed so lovely to look at.

Billy’s grin did little to ease her racing heart. Chrissy quickly grabbed the book, and stood up; meekly thanking him before returning to her cart.

“Did you need help with anything, Billy?”

He had a few answers in mind, but those would have to wait for another time, “I might need a little help finding a book. But if you’re too busy-”

“Oh no, I can help you. Just follow me.”

Her bubbly nature certainly shined through despite her heart beat going a mile a minute. Her brain reminded her to breathe, trying not at all to think about the Goliath right behind her. Aside from her heart, she also experienced the uncomfortable sensation of her stomach berating her with growls.

“Hungry?” He asked, well teased.

“No.”

That was a big lie, the next series of growls made that very clear. A part of Billy wanted to continue with his playfully mean antics, but the strained look on her face said otherwise. One hand clutched her belly and the other grasped onto the shelf.

“Billy, I…”

He got to her eye level, “Are you okay, Chrissy?”

Hunger rippled throughout her body, all she had was a grapefruit for breakfast and some gum in fourth period French class. She didn’t want to follow the strict diet that her mother forced on her, but she had no choice in the matter. He caught her before she lost her footing, easing her gently to the carpet.

“Woah, woah, easy there. Hold on, I’ll be right back.”

He offered her a granola bar and a bag of chips.

“Oh Billy, I couldn’t take your food. I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

He’d gladly take the blame, “I don’t care, just eat it.”

The bar did smell good, a combo of honey and nuts. Perhaps just a little will do, it was better than the terrible feeling that had fallen upon her. Maybe another bite may suffice. Before she knew it, she had finished off the crumbling snack.

Despite her weak smile, her eyes sparkled, “Thank you, Billy. I really appreciate it.”

He had no idea how much she struggled, no one knew. She was grateful that she could have a little bit of strength to sustain her until it was time to go home soon.

“Yeah, no problem. How do you feel?”

She gave him an honest answer, “I’m tired.”

“Well, why don’t you just go home?”

Her eyes widened, looking away as she cradled her knees to her chest. Something wasn’t right and he had an inkling, even as they sat together in silence. He wouldn’t dare pry, after all she had her life and he had his. Why should he care what some popular, preppy cheerleader does outside of school? Why should she care what the beach boy’s home life is like as well? If only they knew.

She hardly spoke above a whisper, “I can’t… I still have a lot to do.”

He sighed, “You know I… I could help you, if you want.”

She feigned a convincing smile, “Oh Billy, it’s okay-”

A voice as sharp as a knife sliced through, “What is going on here?!”

Chrissy gulped, hurrying back to her feet, “Mrs. O’Donnell?”

Billy’s eye roll was right on cue, keeping a barrier between her and the teacher. Where on earth she came from was a mystery. She was like a shadow that was unfortunately granted the power to appear and vanish. Despite her hushed volume, her tone was like a bee’s stinger.

“Mr. Hargrove, you are supposed to be in detention, young man.”

He shrugged, a clever smirk soon followed, “I needed a little stretch break.”

She snatched the unopened chip bag, “Mrs. Cunningham, are you eating in the library?”

Chrissy’s heart sank, her knees began to quiver. Oh god, please don’t call her mother. The cheerleader would rather faint than endure her mother’s wrath.

“I- I- I-”

Billy grabbed it right back, “I’ll take that back, thank you.”

“Mr. Hargrove, am I to understand that you gave Mrs. Cunningham food?”

His nonchalant demeanor caused a vein to appear on her forehead, he was enjoying this, “Sharing is caring. Isn’t that what they teach us in kindergarten?”

Her gaudy ringed finger waggled before him, “Don’t use that tone at me, young man!”

Chrissy couldn’t believe that anyone would stand up to the likes of O’Donnell. She was impressed and afraid. She wanted to speak up, but then again this whole ordeal seemed amusing; albeit embarrassing as more eyes and ears focused on the scene.

“You’re getting one more week of detention added!”

Billy snorted, “Someone’s grumpy, here, have some chips.”

“Two weeks!”

Chrissy took a stand, “No, please Mrs. O’Donnell.”

“You want detention too?!”

Jesus, her shrill voice was enough to break glass. At least Chrissy’s tone was easy on everyone’s ears.

“Billy was just helping me put the books away. I dropped the cart on accident and we worked together to clean the mess. He really is helpful.”

Why did those words awaken such a swarm of butterflies in his stomach?

She did her best to diffuse, “I think he would be a great help here in the library. I mean it’s a lot for me and Ms. Austen to do by ourselves; we could use the extra help.”

The older authoritarian glared at him, contemplating other possible ways to make him pay. Well another time and place, but this would have to suffice; for now, “Fine. But if he screws up one time-”

Her feet stood firm as she stood tall, matching the teacher’s contemptuous stare, “He won’t! Billy’s going to do a great job!”

The kind and elderly face of Ms. Austin peaked around the corner, “My goodness, what is all the yelling about?”

O’Donnell turned to her fellow colleague, sarcastically stating, “Looks like you’ll be getting a new addition to your team.”

She adjusted her spectacles, “I will?”

Chrissy smiled, “Yes Ms. Austen, Billy is going to be helping us out.”

Ms. Austin affectionately clasped her old hands, “Oh how splendid! Please come with me, William.”

Billy followed her, looking over his shoulder at Chrissy once more. He overheard his teacher’s warning.

“Keep that boy on a short leash, Cunningham.”

The dictator stormed off, reminding the students to get back to work. Chrissy set her mind on finishing her task, unable to understand how anyone so callous was allowed around teenagers. Then again, this treatment was no different compared to what she received at home; Chrissy didn’t have it in her to stand up to her own mother. O’Donnell gave Hargrove one last contemptuous look before she made her way out. As soon as she was out of sight, the rumor mill began to circulate amongst the students. No one addressed the accused and the defender, relishing on what sort of antics could be happening between the bad boy and the good girl. Despite his terrible attempts at trying to ease the matter, his level of rage had predictably risen. Detention and he needs to be a library helper? How the hell was he supposed to explain this shit to his folks, especially to his own personal monster at home? Well, it was better than two extra weeks of detention.

Billy returned with a short stack of encyclopedias, “Hey, where do you want me to put these?”

Chrissy turned around and smiled at him, “Just up here.”

How interesting that his anger had slowly dissipated when he gazed down at her grinning face. Her smile was sweet, warm, and considerate. She was glad knowing that he was here. Billy didn’t have much to say, other than a whispered thank you to her.

The so called Queen of Hawkins High wasn’t quite what he imagined her to be. Maybe this punishment won’t be so bad after all.

[ms-nesbit]

Sugar and Spice

a jason todd x reader fanfic

Rating: 18+ (minors dni)

word count: 5.4k

warnings/notes: mention of trauma and abuse, Jason Todd isn't Red Hood, explicit content, smut, panic attack

summary: jason is a baker with cake, and y/n a horticulturist with a chance to sow her wild oats.

AO3

“And would you like that for here or to go?”

The streets of Gotham buzzed with citizens despite the imminent crime, visitors entering and leaving famous Zia’s, a bakery home to Gotham’s finest breads and pastry sweets. Inside the confined space displayed an array of baked goods, its floor littered with customers clutching their tong and red plastic tray.

In a rouge apron dusted with crumbs and splotches of icing and egg, Jason tended to the confectionery inventory, carrying a large metal pan holding marranitos (Mexican cookies baked in the shape of a pig) on one hand, and a smaller metal pan containing sourdough bread on his other. The dark, robust waft of molasses and ginger filled the air, catching the attention of some of Zia’s more loyal patrons.

“That fresh?!” one blurted.

Jason vaguely smiled behind him before attending to replacing the pan on its designated shelf. “Always.”

As much as Zia’s advertised its pastries, certain Gothamites - single ones with more time than they should have been allotted - spread merry news of eye candy in the shop, drawing more attention than Zia’s owner, Aurelio, expected.

One, a man named Ed, passed a whisper to y/n, who worked nearby at the Gotham Nursery as a horticulturist: “You know, y/n, if you’re ever looking for a snack for your sweet tooth, you could just stop by.”

His expression faltered, as if he was holding something back, but y/n disregarded it as she loaded his plants onto the trunk of his 4x4, and sent him on his way with a brief, “I’ll be sure. As always, thank you for coming, Eddie.”

She hadn’t given the recommendation much thought until on her lunch, when she stopped by Zia’s and stepped into the bumbling bluster of business. Then, as Jason emerged from the kitchen of the bakery with hands full of crumbly tricolor polvorones and loaves of rye bread, his bottom lip tucked in between his teeth in concentration and tee shirt sleeves rising up just enough for all to see his toned biceps, y/n understood Ed’s undertones.

“Excuse me.” a voice from behind snapped y/n’s attention, causing her to turn around to a stern, tight-lipped woman blinking at her. “Would you mind moving over so I could go in there?” she pointed to the shelves y/n blocked, her question seeming more of a kind demand rather than an inquiry.

Nodding feverishly as she stepped aside, y/n bumped into a sturdy tall figure, a string of apologies leaving her lips before her eyes met a pair of hazel, a mix of greens and grays swimming in his irises.

“I’m-I’m so, so, sorry.” y/n was captivated, distracted by the baker’s face shape as he stared down at her with an understanding grin.

“It’s okay, it happens all the time.” the man swiped loose sugar granules from his apron, prompting y/n to take her gaze away from his face and onto the mess of cinnamon sugar on the floor.

“Oh, jeez, do you need me to—”

The man waved a hand in y/n’s direction to calm her down. “Again, it happens a lot. Are you new here?” He used his free arm to catch Aurelio’s attention, who passed him a broom and dustpan to begin cleaning the faint piles of sugar.

Y/n shook her head. “Yeah, I’m not used to this kind of foot traffic.” She squatted on the ground and helped collect particles off the ground with her hands.

Brushing her pile into the maroon dustpan, he glanced at her work uniform. “I didn’t know that Gotham had a botanical garden.” He looked at y/n, his thick, pearl strands of hair falling from his hair net. Y/n felt the stare, and had to bow her head to hide the passing blush tickling her skin.

“You should stop by sometime.” Y/n shrugged when she and the man stood on their feet, disregarding the crowd staggering impatiently around them. “I could analyze your soil’s pH, or even recommend some plants depending on your living situation.”

Y/n watched the man’s adam’s apple bob before he spoke. “And what about a five-hundred square feet flat?”

“There are ways to accommodate the situation if you’re willing. It just takes the right pair of hands and mindset.” y/n gave the man a smile, to which he reciprocated, his soft skin forming ripples from it.

She swallowed the warmth she felt in her stomach, an unfamiliar sensation she whisked away as she followed the man to the checkout counter. His back turned to her, y/n was able to take in his other features: his broad shoulders, appearing almost heavy on his torso, and the merlot tee shirt lazily tucked under the waistband of his washed jeans, which were partially ripped along parts of his left knee and right ankle. Y/n blinked away her urge to follow the natural curvature of his legs up to his ass, though she would admit that her id was pleased with the crumbs of image it viewed.

“Do you think you could show me what I could do? Doc has told me that I need to, uh, spruce up my space.” The man rested his hands on the counter, marginally leaning over it to inch closer to y/n in flirtation.

Y/n couldn’t meet his hazel eyes, unwilling to be enchanted by whatever undertones he was trying to communicate; though, to her dismay, he did attract her, even with the hair net clumping his seemingly soft hair in place, and the poorly executed pun. So she obliged, just a bit. “I work today till six, if you’re able.” one of her shoulders bounced, as if she felt apathetic about his advances.

But he, unbeknownst to y/n, was stubborn. “I can manage.” he wrinkled his nose playfully at her, eyes flickering between her blank stare and her suppressed grin. “My name is Jason, by the way.”

Jason. Like the killer. “Nice to meet you. Here’s the address.” y/n slid a business card across the counter in Jason’s direction, back beginning to turn. “I’ll see you there.”

“Wait, I didn’t catch your name.” Jason called out across the store to her, unbothered by the several customers stopping to look for y/n.

With a hand to the door handle, pushing the heavy door open, y/n looked over her shoulder, said flatly, “I guess you’ll have to find out.” and left with a few strides, disappeared from Jason’s sight.

“I’m gonna find out alright.” Jason murmured, a corner of his lips turning into a grin.

—

The Gotham Nursery began winding down in visitors, employees cloaking its temperature-sensitive annuals with thick tarp as they prepared for the chilly night ahead. Y/n checked her watch, then the nursery’s entrance, a habit she built as the day passed. Was I too passive? She thought as she hauled mulch across the store lot. Did he forget about me? She mused as she jotted down plant observations in the greenhouse.

Y/n indulged the information about her encounter with Jason to her coworker, Xoe, who was more than enthused about it. Each passing hour, Xoe would cross paths with y/n, bugging her about whether or not she had seen Jason.

It wasn’t until five minutes until closing when Jason arrived, parking his sleek, rumbling motorcycle in a compact spot. A couple of the employees noticed him, and rolled their eyes in frustration, mistakenly thinking that he was a customer, not y/n’s visitor.

Y/n locked herself in the nursery’s greenhouse with her choi sum mustard leaves, using a dainty stick to lift the heavy leaves of the plant. She wrote down the subtle changes in the plant’s behavior, noting the thickness of the leaves after incorporating iron-rich soil.

“Y/n?” Xoe asked, peeking through the polycarbonate door, evoking y/n to look up from her work. “Someone named Jared is here to see you.” Xoe then gave y/n a wink, intentionally mistaking Jason’s name.

“Sure, he can come in. Thanks, Xoe.”

“No problem.” Xoe said, opening the door fully for Jason to allow entry, before throwing y/n a suggestive look and shutting the door.

Distracted by the array of plants both on the ground and overhead, Jason tread carefully through the path of the greenhouse. He raked his fingers through his hair as he stopped to observe the vine dangling from a hanging planter, avoiding touching it in fear that he would somehow kill the plant. Y/n gawped at his actions, amused by the conscientiousness of his every move in spite of his tall, muscular frame.

Jason, appearing diverted, used his peripherals to glance at y/n, who sat on a wooden chair on the other side of the greenhouse. Her attire was similar to their first encounter, except she rolled up the sleeves of her forest long-sleeved top, and wore patterned leather gardening gloves. He admired the contrast of her head to the overhead vines coming down around her, the hearty heart-shaped leaves forming a convex halo. She was breathtaking in her relaxed state, and it was clear to him that the greenhouse was a sanctuary, a treehouse she escaped to when she sought solace. 

“Didn’t think you’d make it, Jason.” y/n held her notebook and pen in her hands as she spoke, still working at her scientific examination notes. 

“Uh, yeah,” Jason mumbled, peering at a distant crimson flower in bloom. “I had to clean up after close. This is where you work?” He looked up at the opaque ceiling of the greenhouse, in awe of the varieties of plants with which he surrounded himself.

Y/n nodded. “Most of the time, yeah. It’s my job to basically make sure the plants are at an optimal growing point so that we could use the info to pass on to customers or vendors.”

Jason sensed the formality in her tone, humbling his ego before he returned, “And you like it?”

Y/n crossed her arms at the question, obviously peeved. “Of course. I don’t know why I would be here, or go through all the schooling, if I didn’t.”

Jason pressed his lips together, remorseful of the offense she took at his inquiry. “Sorry, I should have figured.”

“No, I…I get it all the time, honestly. People are so surprised when I tell them I like it, as if it’s some boring thing.” Y/n rambled, full of thought as she flipped through vague memories of conversations she had with others. “I’ve always loved nature, but not aesthetically, if that makes sense. It’s a science to keep these plants alive and thriving after all the damage we’ve done, and I don’t think I have to keep justifying it.” she clicked her tongue at the end of her statement, eyes looking off to the side in vexation.

Jason rubbed the back of his neck in discomfort. “I get the same comments about my baking. I mean, don’t get me wrong - it’s not nearly as lengthy as the schooling you went through - but I find happiness punching the fuck out of air bubbles in the dough.”

The joke emitted a chuckle from y/n, breaking the tension in the space that could have been otherwise excused by the high humidity. Humor was a strength of Jason’s, and he used it to his advantage in times like these when he found his foot in his mouth, or his tongue in a knot. He wanted to start over, rerun his words smoothly through his head so he could properly express himself without offending y/n again.

Instead, he offered baguettes. “I brought something we could both have in here, if we can have it.” he pointed to the backpack strap on his shoulder, and began to maneuver his backpack to his hands so he could unveil the crispy logs of cooked dough. He handed one baguette to y/n, who removed her gloves to accept the gift, before he took a bite out of one himself.

“You make these?” y/n asked, chewing on a piece. Mouth full of bread, Jason simply nodded. “I have to say, as much as I like plants, I think I would gain a lot of weight if I could bake this well.”

The compliment made Jason beam, squirreling chewed bread in his mouth causing his cheeks to round. After he swallowed, he responded, “Yeah, I get that a lot. Though I don’t think you’d look any bit different with more.” his eyes scanned y/n’s body evocatively.

Y/n’s cheeks tinted, covering her mouth respectfully as she spoke. “It’s really fresh for stale bread.” she gestured to an empty seat beside her. “You wanna sit here?”

Jason shook his head, plopping himself down on the seat before he turned his body to face her. “Oh, I made it before I left.” Jason remarked nonchalantly, taking another bite out of the bread.

Y/n stared at Jason as he ate his workmanship, giggling at him. He gave her a doe-eyed expression, confused by her mirth. “What?” 

“Nothing, I’ve just never seen someone so passionate about eating bread.” Her eyes gleamed at him, smile radiant as she spoke. Jason’s chest burned when she passed him the look, mesmerized by her appearance. He grew accustomed to the constant comments about his looks from Gothamites - and the unfortunate harassment or assault that would take place by a select few - but he followed his instinct when he felt something different about y/n; whether it was the way she presented herself, or the way her eyes shaped into crescents as she smiled, he was absolutely enamored by her, and wanted to explore all that made her content so he could replicate it for her.

They sat together, knee to knee, gazing at each other. Y/n placed her bread on the table and her hands on her lap, drawing Jason’s attention away from her face. His eyes snapped up, though, unwilling to be perceived as perverted, or his intentions impure. Y/n suppressed her temptation to cave in to him, fingernails digging into the skin of her thighs as she desperately tried to keep them to herself.

But his skin was as firm as his voice, five o’clock shadow scattered across his cheeks and jawline; his skin creased as he grinned, even the slightest, a wrinkle forming along the edges of his mouth. Y/n wondered what his lips tasted like - were they as tender as they appeared? Or were his kisses all-encompassing, conveying what words couldn’t describe?

Y/n wanted to find out, but she hesitated: she didn’t want to hurt again; she didn’t want to wither at her roots like the neglected plants she studied, slumping over in her seat as she felt the remaining cells in her body seize. Had the encounter with Jason been years ago, y/n would have already been all over him, straddling his lap - she was much more daring then, naive of the darkness that could ensue.

Instead, she glued her hands to herself. Jason noticed her stare plummet from joyous to cold, her eyes glossy as she blinked away what dark thoughts laid behind them. He placed a hand over hers, thumb stroking the underside of her palm in an attempt to bring her back to the present.

“Sorry.” her voice sobered up, ignoring the display of affection Jason committed.

Shaking his head once, he responded, “Am I doing something wrong? I’ll scoot my chair back and keep my hand away if you want—”

“No, no.” y/n hastily said, unaware of what she presented with her response. “It’s not you, don’t worry.”

“Is it okay if I kiss you?”

The question caused y/n’s heart to rise, excited by the thought. She nodded and leaned forward, cupping his neck as they closed the gap between them and pressed their lips together softly, y/n’s nose filling with a mixture of the leather of his jacket and clean yeast from the bread. Jason instinctively brought his hands to y/n’s face, holding it as he sharply inhaled into the kiss. He was pleasantly surprised by the action, parting his lips as he wanted to deepen the kiss.

But y/n pulled away, and then turned her body from Jason, attempting to conceal the blush creeping up her neck.

Initially worried about crossing a boundary with y/n, Jason noticed the tint in her skin, and grinned, cupping her chin and turning her head to look at him. “You don’t need to hide from me, hun. I don’t know what you went through, but I won’t hurt you like that.” he assured y/n, tone warm and disarming. His thumb brushed her cheek, eyes distracted by her beauty.

“It’s y/n.” she informed him distractedly. “Sorry, I forgot to tell you.”

“Y/n.” he repeated, captivated by her eyes as she grinned softly at him. “I can make you a pinky promise that I won’t be a threat, but I’m not sure if a ten year-old’s logic resonates with you.”

It did. Y/n held her pinky out in between them. “I need something to ground me.”

Jason linked their pinkies, pulling them to his chest. “Y/n: I swear I won’t hurt you. Pinky promise.” y/n’s eyes searched for his other hand, which laid on his knee. No crossed fingers. Good.

 “Can we go back to kissing please?” her brows furrowed, slightly embarrassed by her request. It was Jason’s turn to answer with a kiss, this time heated and impatient. His lips nibbled on hers before dragging a tongue along her bottom lip, evoking a moan from y/n. Jason’s hand held y/n’s as they deepened their kiss, mouths opening in an attempt for Jason to draw another moan from her. He used his free hand to tangle in y/n’s hair, pulling her closer than she already was.

When y/n mimicked his actions, she tugged lightly at his hair, causing him to groan and shiver. She tore her lips from Jason’s, noticing how his were already swollen despite the little contact she had with them. “You like that?” She quirked a brow.

“A little more than I should.” Jason smirked back, biting his bottom lip. He hissed when y/n tugged at his hair again, this time harder and deliberate. “Keep that up, doll, and I’ll have you bent over on this table.”

Y/n chuckled, allowing her id to take over. “Oh really? And what else would I have to do to be blessed with that opportunity?”

“I don’t think you want to know.” Jason pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, biting down hard. His eyes ran over y/n’s body slowly, taking in the view as y/n uncrossed her legs. He wondered if he should just take her here - an image of y/n in pleasure, her brows knitted and mouth agape, clouded Jason’s attention, blood rushing to his dick. It took a moment for him to notice that y/n’s hand was trembling in his hair, and when he did acknowledge it, the corrupt thoughts disappeared completely. “Are you okay?”

Y/n stopped herself, pulling her hand away from his hair and chewing on her lip. “Yeah, sorry. Dunno what got into me.” she laughed humorlessly.

“You know,” Jason started, hand rushing back to her cheek, “we could just go to my place and talk. We don’t need to do anything sexual, if you’re not up to that.”

The proposition nearly brought tears to y/n’s eyes. It was eons since someone considered her that much - she usually had to hold her ground herself. All she could release from her clogged throat was a faltered affirmation, and she rose to her feet, collecting her work and returning them to their designated area.

Extending an elbow for her to take, Jason guided them through the greenhouse and back outside, holding the door open for y/n as she strolled through. His eyes were glued to her, watching her reaction to all of the plant life around them; he was in awe of how much knowledge she had of them, informing him of pieces of trivia about random plants they passed.

When they reached his motorcycle parked in the lot, his shoulders slouched. “Sorry, I forgot to tell you that I ride.” Ride, y/n thought to herself, eyes examining the vehicle. “Do you still want me to take you, or do you want to take your car, or…”

Y/n wriggled her lips in apathy. “I take the bus, so I think this would be the more logical option.”

Without skipping a beat, Jason offered y/n his helmet, lifting a leg over the bike seat to straddle it and waiting for her to secure her helmet before seating behind him. She snaked her arms around his waist, locking her fingers together over his navel, the touch producing heat on Jason’s stomach. He looked back, waiting for a response from y/n; when she gave him a simple thumbs-up, he turned the key to the ignition and shifted into neutral, manually backing out of the parking space with his legs before taking off from the lot with a thunderous roll, the reverberation heard from miles away.

Although it was y/n’s first ride as a passenger on a motorcycle, she was tranquil, snug behind Jason with her fingers barely tracing what she assumed to be muscle lines along his abdomen; although it wasn’t Jason’s first time having a passenger on his bike, he was particularly cautious, downshifting early and even stalling his engine trying to do so.

Once they arrived at y/n’s apartment - with directions from y/n - Jason parked the bike on the street adjacent to the complex. He helped y/n off of her seat, and held her hand as she led them to her space on the second floor.

“And this is it.” y/n announced half-heartedly when she opened the door, entering into the kitchen of the grand apartment. Jason was silent as he inspected the decor, stopping occasionally at framed anatomical prints of plants. As he wandered into the living room, he spotted a wooden tube radio resting on the nightstand beside the couch. He observed its specifications, murmuring incoherently as he studied the device.

“You like it?” Y/n asked, handing Jason a can of sparkling water before she sat down on the leather couch.

Jason nodded. “I haven’t seen one of these in forever. Makes me feel kind of nostalgic, to be honest.”

Y/n tucked her legs under her knees, taking a sip from her can. “That’s why I bought it. M’not much of an audiophile, but I like the crisp sound of these. Plus, usually when guys are over, they think I’m some old lady, and eventually leave me alone.” Her final comment made her chuckle, and Jason grin.

“I guess we’re both old.” he added, winking back at her. Y/n patted the empty space beside her, offering him to sit. “Do you listen to a lot of music on here, or just the AM talk shows?”

Y/n’s smile widened. “A bit of both. If I have the free time, I prefer podcasts or audiobooks, which I can project through there, but y’know.”

“But what?” Seated next to y/n, Jason nudged her playfully.

She shrugged. “I dunno. Kinda gets busy sometimes.” her response was sad, as if she had no control over the time she spent, but Jason understood that it was relatively normal for an adult.

He dropped his grin in response, acclimating to the shift in tone. “I’m like that too. Though I don’t remember a time when I didn’t have a lot to take care of.”

Y/n’s forehead creased in worry. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Jason breathed deeply, contemplating whether or not he should elaborate. “I didn’t really have the parents of the year growing up, and once I was adopted, I still had a bunch of responsibilities. When I think back to it, it feels like I missed out on a lot.”

Y/n nodded in agreement. “I get that. I…something happened, and I basically had to grow up quicker than some other people my age. I can’t really…” her voice trailed off, drowning in emotion. “It’s hard for me to feel normal.”

Hands beginning to tremble, y/n balled them into fists. Jason placed his hands over hers, squeezing them lightly to draw attention away from her thoughts. “Hey, I’m here. It’s okay.” he uttered, lavender softness in his voice. “Is it okay if I held you?” he asked, to which y/n nodded. Jason wrapped his long arms around her, pulling her tight to his chest. There, y/n felt guarded, safe, as if his arms were hardy tree branches that couldn’t be easily torn; she detached his heartbeat, steady but firm. Each of his features soothed her, rocked her back to the present, as he’d hoped.

He kissed her head, watering her otherwise malnourished body; Jason’s face focused on her, a tall, broad sunflower in need of nutrients facing the sun. She replenished him somehow, something neither of them could quite pinpoint, but enjoyed nonetheless. 

Fingertips following the veins along Jason’s arm, y/n discerned a wanting similar to what she experienced at the greenhouse. She looked up at Jason, who was already gazing down at her, and gave him a look: please kiss me.

And for all that he could, Jason enthusiastically obliged, dipping his head to crash his lips to y/n’s. They both breathed into the kiss, hands fumbling to secure themselves in their embrace as their kiss rushed, tongues meeting briefly before disappearing again. Jason was the first to moan into the kiss this time, almost a whimper of desolate desire. 

Y/n’s fingers spread, palms flat against Jason’s chest as she pushed him down onto the couch, readjusting to straddle his lap without breaking the kiss. His hands slipped underneath y/n’s top, nails grazing against her skin. He pushed the top up to her chest, breaking the kiss to allow her to pull it overhead and toss it aside.

Before returning to the kiss, Jason gawked at y/n’s chest, surprised by her bare breasts. “Holy shit.” he whined, licking his lips. He tilted forward to flick his tongue on her sensitive nub before kneading her breasts with his hands, occasionally leaning in to suck and lick her nipples. Y/n relaxed her shoulders and let out a soft moan and grind her hips against his, causing Jason to buck his up instinctively.

Their movements were restricted by their clothing though, and y/n knew that as she hopped off Jason to shimmy her pants off, panties down with it, and shook Jason’s jeans off as well before returning back to her stance on him. “Condom?” she murmured nervously.

Jason pointed to his jeans. “Here, lemme put em on.” he reached over to his pockets, pulling one out and tearing open the wrapper. Y/n watched, eyes dark with wanton, as he rolled the condom onto his thick, hard erection.

Y/n repositioned herself on his lap, lowering herself on him. She hissed at the contact, unfamiliar with the girth stretching her walls. When her hips were flush with his, y/n remained still, acclimating to the sensation; Jason, however, tremored underneath y/n, using all of his strength to restrain himself from thrusting up into y/n. He craved the noises she emitted, and anything that would drive her to ecstasy, but had to wait. His hands moved to her thighs, grasping at them and awaiting her signal for him to move.

Instead, y/n’s hips rose and fell, rocking slowly. They both moaned at the motion, unsatisfied by the gradualness of her hips. One of Jason’s hands moved to her ass, guiding her hips to angle itself perfectly.

“Oh, god.” Y/n gasped, the different angle granting Jason’s cock to brush against the base of her cervix. Jason’s grip on her thigh and ass tightened, letting out a guttural moan.

“Can I…?” Jason asked between pants, self-control wavering. Y/n nodded feverishly, barely containing herself as she steadied herself on Jason’s chest. He began thrusting up into her in the same angle, both hands gripping her hips as his pace quickened.

“Fuck, you’re so good.” Jason whimpered, eyes laser-focused on y/n. The sounds of skin-on-skin slapping, along with pants and intermittent, pornographic moans, escaped them and into the room. Jason wanted more, more, more as he continued to pistol his hips up, quickly popping a thumb into his mouth to moisten it before rubbing it on y/n’s clit in hasty yet intricate circles.

The motion evoked y/n’s orgasm, her core hot as she let out a silent scream. Her nails dug into the fabric of Jason’s shirt, sharp enough to leave marks on his bare chest, as he guided her through her high. Before she could calm down though, Jason picked up his pace, this time chasing his own high as he relentlessly thrusted up into her pussy. In moments, y/n was thrown into another orgasm, body tingling as she whined loudly into the air.

Her walls, like velvety petals, tightened around Jason’s cock, which was already begging for release. Every moan and word barely leaving her lips was as gospel to him, bringing him closer, higher, until-

“Y/n, I’m gonna come, fuck.” Jason sobbed, neck red and forehead covered in beads of sweat. His hair stuck to his head, stray strands bouncing with his thrusts as they grew sloppy, desperate, frantic for him. “Y/n, y/n,” he repeated as hell broke loose, his vision blurring as he sharply thrusted up into y/n, coming with a loud cry. His hips stuttered, grip on her hips loosening.

Y/n rode the high with him, watching as his brows furrowed, eyes fluttered shut, and swollen pink lips form into an ‘o’ shape. Each profanity that left his lips were a secret he could no longer hold, and she was so happy to indulge in them.

Minutes passed before Jason picked y/n up, laying her on the couch as he stood up. “Do you know where the bathroom is?” he asked innocently, cheeks azalea. After y/n pointed to the nearest ajar door in the hall, Jason disappeared for a moment before returning, towel in hand and condom disposed of.

He kneeled beside the couch, gingerly patting the towel on y/n’s thighs, cleaning up any residual juices that were released. The sight of her wet pussy made his cock twitch again, but he knew better than to entertain the thought, gently wiping away the wetness on the crevices along her ass and thighs. Y/n glanced down at him, heart warm as he finished cleaning up. “Is there anything I can get you, hun?” Jason smiled, eyes glistening. If her legs weren’t tired, y/n would have sat up and smooched him right there.

But she shook her head. “I think I’m okay. Thank you.”

Jason took her hand in his, holding it up to his lips before he placed a tender kiss to her knuckle. “Of course, Princess. You’re a flower, too, y’know.”

The compliment made y/n blush, skin rising with goosebumps. She hadn’t been pampered like this…ever. It was foreign, and the realization triggered a sympathetic nervous response.

Y/n sat up in worry, drawing her hand quickly from Jason. He frowned at her, apprehensive that he caused any offense. “I’m sorry - do you need some space? I can get going, if you need to.”

First waiting for a response, Jason noticed y/n’s eyes darting from side to side, spiraling into the dark trench. He scooted closer, pulling y/n’s head to his, their foreheads pressed together. “Deep breath, doll.” he cooed, “I’ve got you.”

And he did. His hands held y/n’s delicately, thumb brushing her skin as they breathed together in the apartment, his voice shining light onto her focus like a spring sunrise after a seemingly interminable winter.

The words pollinated her soul, bringing her to life in ways she hadn’t felt before. Jason’s skin was calloused, wrinkled, with scarring near the knuckle and palms, but y/n felt comforted by them. And she emerged from the dark trench, opening her eyes to find the sunflower staring back at her with a soft expression and a softer grin to welcome her.

And y/n finally felt like she found home.

[misskittyhart]

CHAPTER 1: Crescent City Where The Jazz Is Gritty

It was a rainy afternoon in New Orleans, the year 1924. The city changed from a sleepy town to a loud, wild night. The cacophonous sound of jazz blared into the streets of the French quarter. The music was hot and blaring crashing down around any one who passed by it’s warm lit streets. Consuming you with the promise of a good time.

The rain had caught up many who were on the way to their jobs at the French Quarter, a gaggle of people huddled under an awning of a local business hoping for a break in this down pour. One of the faces in this crowd was a stunning milky skinned woman with auburn hair and the most stunning emerald green eyes. Her hair was partially pulled back in finger waves, a bright crystal encrusted magnolia adoring her red locks. She had a black fur coat pulled tight around her trying desperately to keep her beautiful dark sapphire beaded dress from getting wet. The dress was shin length, and was accompanied by fine black hosiery and dark blue heels that seemed to glimmer in the street light.

Her name was Kitty, she was a marvelous jazz singer at one of the largest jazz clubs in the quarter, The Silver Magnolia. She was looking at her delicate watch on her wrist wondering if she should risk the down pour as she would be late. People whispered around her, realizing who she was. She was new to the scene, only singing for a year now but she was the head lining act, especially on a Saturday where the joint was so packed it sucked the air from the room. Hot, loud and heavy music filled that room, a room you could lose yourself completely with the sweet taste of rye, you could forget everything. She was terribly worried if the rain didn’t let up soon she would be late for sound check.

A voice startled her suddenly, “you look like you could use an umbrella. You seem to be in a hurry to get somewhere, darling.” A sultry honeyed tone spoke from her side. She turned her face to the stranger to see who was talking to her. He was tall, slender and striking. He wore a bright grin on his handsome features, that made his light brown skin glow. His hazel eyes stared through small round glasses frames as he looked upon her. He was wearing a loud but dashing dark red suit fit with a charming dark red bow tie. He held the umbrella up over her. “I wouldn’t suppose you’d offer me the pleasure of walking you to your destination and allow me to keep you out of this mess.” He said in a very charming tone.

“Oh, yes. That would be very kind, mister?” She said wondering who this man was. Though he seemed very kind, there was an air of pride and arrogance about him.

“Ahhah! You can call me Alastor.” He said offering her his hand in a graceful manner.

“I’m kitty.” She said taking his hand. Which he so smoothly brought to his lips giving her knuckles a chaste kiss. His amber eyes keeping contact with her. He was extremely charming, She thought to her self.

“Well Miss Kitty it is a pleasure to run into such a stunning young woman like yourself!” That smile still on his face. He offered her his arm to take so he could walk her to her destination. She took it after a pause, and began walking along side him. “Tell me pretty one~ where are you headed? It would be my delight to make sure you arrive dry and safe~”

She looked up at him curiously. Alastor. He wouldn’t happen to be the famous radio host would he? She wondered. His question stopped her thoughts. “Oh I’m headed to the Silver Magnolia” she said simply, “I really appreciate your kindness I thought I might be late for sound check”

His eyes glistened with interest now. His smile widening as he looked down at her, almost towering over her smaller stature. “My, my! You wouldn’t happen to be a singer would you?” He asked interested in her.

“I would. I’m the star of the club you could say. At least that’s what they say in the posters and flyers.” She said walking in stride with him. She could feel rain splashing her feet slightly as they walked the water logged sidewalks arm in arm.

“My! That is so wonderful! You must be an amazing singer, I know the magnolia is a very popular jazz club. I may have to come and listen sometime. I’ve been known to cut a rug~” he said looking down at her studying her face, putting it to memory.

“We would love to have you some time.” She said looking at him, “I’m on in an hour if you have nothing to do.”

He grinned wider, “my if I couldn’t say any better, are you asking me out Miss Kitty?”

Kitty let out a silvery airy laugh at his words. “Oh heavens no darling~ I was just offering since you are providing such a service to me and the club.” She really felt like she heard his voice before. “Say…Mr. Alastor, you wouldn’t happen to be the Alastor, the radio host?” She asked him

His grin sparkled and his eyes lit up at being recognized so suddenly. “Why yes my darling! Have you listened to my broadcasts?” He asked now intrigued.

“Oh yes! I catch it quite regularly. You are very entertaining.” She said smiling warmly

“Ah how kind of you my dear! Well if you insist I have time to spare today before my broadcast late tonight. I would love to hear you sing” he offered. What a charming young woman she was, and quite the stunner. He could feel the jealous glances of men in the street and it made him swell with pride.

“I would be delighted to treat you to a stiff drink as a thanks, as well.” She said patting his arm lightly.

He grinned down at her his eyes studying her, “well my darling that would be a treat! I appreciate the offer. I suppose I can take you up on that, it would be rude to leave such a gorgeous creature to drink alone.”

Kitty laughed again “you certainly have a way with words darling~ I’m sure you have women wrapped around your pinky.” She teased him.

He grinned wide eyes focused on her.

Before much longer they arrived at a stunning bright white building with golden filigree on the outside. The bright street lights sparkled down on the name “The Silver Magnolia” It was a bright beacon in the dreary twilight downpour.

Kitty opened the doors walking in with him out of the rain. She sighed taking her coat off and draping it over her arm. Her dress was a stunning off the shoulder number that hugged in all the right ways and showed off her beautiful creamy white bosom. She was wearing a glittering crystal necklace that sat around her collar bone, and her earrings matched perfectly. He couldn’t help but give her a cheeky look over.

“My you are just stunning, darling~” he said teasing her with that tone dripping with honey. He was certainly the charmer.

Kitty laughed softly “why aren’t you just the charmer~” she teased.

“Kitty cat!” A male voice called out. It was a large man behind the bar with striking features and slicked back blonde hair.

“Hey Mike!” She said waving towards him

Mike looked over curiously at Alastor. “Oh? Who’s this? It’s rare for you to bring anyone around.” He smirked.

“Oh this is Alastor, you know the famous radio host. Fate would have it he showed up with an umbrella to keep me out of the mess out there.” She said smiling at him.

“Wow a local celebrity! Well welcome Alastor!” He smiled warmly.

Alastor offered him a grin. His pride swelling in his chest as his ego was stroked by the bar tender. “It’s a pleasure to be in this lovely establishment~ and a treat to have walked Miss Kitty here on my arm.”

Kitty shook her head at him. He sure was a silver tongued talker. His words dripped with confidence. “Would you pour us a drink before I sound check?” She asked walking to the bar and having a seat.

“Oh I’d be honored!” Mike grinned, “two fingers of rye as always?” He asked her

“You know me so well~” she said leaning her chin on her elegant hand.

“And for you mister Alastor?” Mike asked looking at him.

He sat down next to Kitty on the stool, “I’ll have what the lady is having~”

Mike nodded and turned to pour two glasses of rye. He slid them to each of them respectively.

Kitty took the glass in her hand swirling the brown liquid in her cup admiring it before taking a sip. She closed her eyes sighing enjoying the burn in her throat. Ah what a feeling.

Alastor watched her curiously, before taking a sip himself. “Ah~ that is some deliciously high quality whiskey.” He grinned, “you certainly have great taste, Miss Kitty~”

She laughed, “I suppose I do.”

His eyes were transfixed on the diva. His eyes had a glint of danger in them, but she seemed to not notice as she finished her whiskey. His ears pricked as he heard the sound of the band suddenly tuning their instruments. The faint tickle of piano keys got his attention, he turned looking over his shoulder at the stage. The lights now up as a jazz band collecting in front of the dark green velvet curtains. He raised a brow in interest.

Kitty set her glass down, it now drained of its contents. “That’s my queue” she said sliding off her stool. Show time was soon.

Alastor watched her walk toward the stage looking in her element.

“My dear Kitty!” A boisterous voice called.

Kitty looked over at the stage. “Glen!” She smiled brightly. Alastor paid close attention to how everyone seemed to light up when seeing her. It seem she brought starlight to the room when she entered. He raised a brow, what a charming woman indeed. He grinned.

“Who’s that young man over there? Is he your new boyfriend?” Glen asked taking his cigar from his mouth, “you better treat my little Kitty with care young man!”

Kitty flushed “Glen! That is not it at all, Mr. Alastor was kind enough to sheild me with his umbrella from the weather.”

Glen laughed softly, “I was wondering. I’ve never seen you bring a man here before.”

Kitty rolled her eyes. They’re relationship almost seemed like father and daughter, but he was the manager of the club.

Alastor laughed at the comment “I would be too lucky to have such a lovely creature on my arm~” he said with that charming honey dipped tone.

Kitty looked at him with contempt in her eyes. Men! She thought. “Time for the show.” She said climbing the stairs onto the stage. Her demeanor changed. She commanded that stage with great grace and power. Alastor admired the way she went about talking with the band going over notes, and there was an air of pride about her. Interesting~

She did a few warm ups into the mic as they tested sound. The band played a few small snippets of a song to make sure everything was good to go. Before they knew it the house was packed. Alastor was sat at a side table close to the stage where he could study all the action there. Kitty looked marvelous up there, like she belonged in that lime light. Her beads sparkled like stars in the night sky, her skin glowed like moon light. She certainly was a stunning creature. He rested his chin on his hands studying her intensely.

Kitty grabbed the mic like she would a lover. Cradling it with her delicate fingers, caressing the sparkling brace tenderly. When she sang and the music swelled she commanded every eye in that room. She was powerful. Her husky, sultry tones filled the room. He smiled brightly enjoying her command of the stage. A very interesting woman indeed. His eyes narrowed with intrigue. It wasn’t every day you ran into a dame like this. What a fun game this could be~

The music was coming down as she came to her final song. Her skin was glistening like diamonds in the hot stage light, as sweat trickling down her skin. She was pouring her heart and soul into her performance and it had the room holding its breath.

The trumpets whined, and the trombones roared, the piano tinkled their ivory keys, the drums pounding and the sound of the bass were crescendoing in anticipation to lead her voice to explode into the room.

She cupped the mic tenderly her red lips so close to the mic, ghosting against it as if it was her lover. Alastor watched hungrily and his eyes flickered with danger. When her husky voice erupted into song he felt a sense of desire swell in his chest.

To be or not to be~

That is not the question!

I decided long ago to be!

With me, it’s what to be~

Now, make me some suggestions~

Good or baaad

Which is the best for me?

When you’re after fun and laughter, oh this aggravates you~

Some reformers say a warmer climate awaits you~

If it’s naughty to your lips~

Shake your shoulders and shake your hips~

Let a lady convince, oh I want to be bad~

If it’s naughty to vamp the men~

Sleep each morning til after 10~

Then the answer is yes, I want to be baaad~

The thing is being a good little goodie is all very well~

What can you do when you’re loaded with plenty of health and vigor~

When you’re learning what lips are for~

And it’s naughty to ask for more ~

Let a lady confess~

I

Want

To

Be

Baaaaaad~

Her song ended on that loud sultry high note. The band culled the music down until the room stilled to silence. The room exploded into thunderous applause and whistling. Kitty graciously took her bow as the curtains closed before her. She panted softly dabbing her face free of sweat with her handkerchief. She felt pride and the high of preforming buzzing in her body.

Alastor clapped so hard his hands hurt. She was so very stunning. Her voice commanded all attention in that room, it was thrilling. She looked like a goddess on that stage. Powerful and prideful. The way her lips grazed the microphone was so alluring. What a flirtatious and delicious creature she was. He couldn’t take his eyes from her.

Oh yes this little game of cat and mouse would be so fun~

He had a new fascination to occupy his time.

“Just lovely, darling~” he said watching her disappear behind the curtain.

His lips twisted into a wicked grin.

To be continued!

[abarbaricyalp]

Written for the @samsseptember prompt Riley // Rated G // CW: death, grief // title from the Laura Gilpin poem "Life After Death"

A Dead Tree Casts a Shadow

"Hey, Rye," Sam greeted as he dropped a backpack full of food to the ground and shook out the blanket under his arm. He laid it on the ground, tamped down the sun dried grass underneath it, and then sat and began to distribute the food.

"I just happened to be passing by and you know I've always gotta stop. I didn't mean to come this way, but I've been following a lead and he's dragging me all over the place."

Sam propped a beer and a Dr. Pepper against the gravestone. The screw top caught on the engraved letters that spelled out Beloved Friend, which was fitting enough. Really, it could have just stopped at Beloved.

"This is a crazy story," he admitted in half a chuckle, even if there was something a little darker, a little more bitter behind his voice. "This guy I'm kinda seeing--you may have heard of him, Steve Rogers, right?--dragged me into this mess. His best friend came back from the dead. Can you imagine? Hey, are you planning on doing that to me?" He reached over to rap on the stone and then smoothed his hand over the ground in front of it.

"Kinda wish you would," Sam admitted. "Even if you came back as much of a pain in the ass as this guy. Hey, you were into Captain America. Who the hell is Bucky Barnes? What kind of name is that? I know he was the handsome one in the photos. The one that died, obviously. I've been trying to do research on him but it would be so much easier if you just info-dumped on me. I know you know useless shit like his favorite record. Come on. Come back just long enough to tell me."

The ground did not part like some great, giving maw and Riley didn't pull himself out, bitching about dirt in his hair and 'why the hell did they bury me in black? I said blue.' Sam still watched for too long and then sighed.

"I guess it's only fair. Barnes didn't actually die. Rogers couldn't go down after him to bring home a body. I had you. I carried you."

The memory had been warped every which way to Sunday. Most of the time, he was saved from the true terror of it. In his memory, that old thing protecting him after all these years, Riley was just a little smokey and dusty, a little bloodied. Just dead enough that Sam couldn't argue about it, even as he begged Riley to wake up. In the nightmares, there was almost nothing left of him. Splatters of blood and uniform. Or a crawling, screaming zombie of bits and pieces. Really, it had been messy and horrifying. Sam hadn't really seen much of anything. Truly couldn't recall the exact state of Riley's body as he carried him away. He'd just known his best friend was dead and there was nothing that he could do to change it.

Nothing evil Nazis could do either.

"I miss you, man," he said softly. He rubbed the lip of his own bottle along the top of the gravestone and listened to the glass catch on the rock. "I'd almost convinced myself I was okay without you, but having friends again just makes it that much more obvious that you're not alone. I almost tried to text you the other day, y'know.

"Hey, you know it took your momma almost a year and a half to pull your number outta service? She kept saying it was the same price just to leave you on. You know how she is about that kind of thing. But I think she was calling you even more than me. Leaving all these voicemails just in case you might ever come back and need to be caught up thirty seconds at a time."

Sam bracketed his knees on either side of the gravestone and laid back in the blanket to watch the sky. There were two birds doing acrobatics on the breeze and, all of a sudden, hot tears sprang to Sam's eyes and choked him down the throat.

"I miss you so bad, man. I'm in the wings again. I kind of stole them back. And I love it. I love it just as much as the first time we strapped them on. And I hate myself for loving it. You're supposed to be here. It's not a solo operation. I look for you before every jump. I think about you every time I see a bird. And you're not here. You're never here. There's a whole empty section on my vital menus where yours are supposed to be.

"How am I supposed to do this, Rye? I'm one of a pair. And Steve, he's great, but he's not my other half. Not when I'm in the air."

He hadn't realized he was sobbing until he had to turn onto his side to avoid choking. The sky left his field of vision, replaced instead by a tranquil cemetery. Well, a blurry cemetery at any rate. There was no one else around, so Sam let himself curl up in the fetal position, squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to pretend him and Riley were twin commas in a huge bed. He hadn't done anything like this in months and months and months but he couldn't help it now. Even if he knew it wasn't going to work. He'd forced himself to stop picturing Riley next to him and now he couldn't make himself do it even under duress.

Of all the emotions he'd thought he'd have to deal with by tagging up with Steve Rogers, this bone deep ache for the things he'd lost hadn't been high on the list. If anyone had asked two months ago, he'd say he had friends. That he missed Riley but life had to go on and Riley wouldn't want him to mope. He hated moping. But evidently none of those friendships elicited the same kind of response that Riley had. Sam had barely known Steve before he started to fall back into old habits. Throw in a dead best friend come back to life and Sam was in further over his head than he anticipated.

There was no way Barnes could have known to drag Sam out here. After the program was grounded, all of Riley's information went behind walls of black marker. And Barnes would only have looked into it if he thought this was a good way to lose Sam's tail, which would imply he'd gleaned some amount of privy into Sam and Riley's relationship. All of it was impossible. Just a horrible coincidence. Or maybe a really good coincidence.

Sam had needed this. He could pretend that holing himself up in DC was actually steps in the right direction, that ignoring the ghost of Riley's presence, always right in his periphery, was the best course of action, that fiddling away time with mindless relationships was healthy, but he knew all of that was a lie. He couldn't just pretend this was fine. That he was fine. He clearly was not.

Man, he'd just jumped feet first into taking down a century old Nazi cult. And now he was hunting down an undead assassin who may or may not still be brainwashed. An assassin who had tried to plummet him to his death.

"He was rude about it too," Sam told Riley. He figured whatever Riley was doing, he could probably read Sam's mind. No need to fill him in. He turned over onto his back again. "He had this grappling hook thing that he shot at me. Why? That's not important. Point is, one second he was down on the ground doing these acrobatic jumps to avoid bullets--the dude can jump out of the way of bullets--and the next he'd yanked me out of the sky. Ripped the wing clean out of the pack. And then the motherfucker kicked me off the landing deck of a huge airship.

"You would've loved this thing, dude. It was like one of those navy jet ships you're so obsessed with, but in the sky. Man, I don't think I could've gotten you back off of it. You would have moved in and never left."

The birds had disappeared, following the current the way Sam and Riley would on the quiet days.

"You remember the first time the wings malfunctioned on us? When we were actually in the air? A whole system malfunction. We both lost control. Had to pull the parachutes for the first time. We pulled them so late. You probably broke your ankle but kept lying to the medical team. God, we were giddy when we landed. That freefall was unlike anything I've ever felt. I mean, it was horrifying, but wasn't there that moment where you just let yourself fall? Just felt the air and your stomach rushing by. The world was so far away."

Until it hadn't been.

"It felt like that again. I remembered to pull my parachute this time. You weren't around for me to fuss over, so I had more time to actually think. But it felt the same just for a second. I was less giddy on the landing. You weren't there to limp over to me on the ground, and I had someone to be mad at this time. But still. There was that flying-falling feeling that I only got with you."

The words ran out then, as quick as they came. There were a million other things he wanted to tell Riley, but nothing was sticking in his mouth. So he just sat up and parsed out the gas station picnic he'd brought. A whole extra meal for a man who couldn't eat it. But Sam would leave it out and maybe a different kind of shadow would take advantage of it before a billion bugs did.

He ate the sandwich and half the bag of chips in silence and had started to sort out a bag of M&Ms by color before he spoke again.

"I think I'm happy. Like, actually happy this time. I mean, I'm exhausted. This superhero thing is no joke. And weirdly lonely? I mean, Steve and me are together most of the time but I haven't met, like, Iron Man or Thor. I hang out with Black Widow though. You never stood a chance by the way. You would literally be like a cute puppy to her. But she's great. She's teaching me a lot. She's hilarious. But she's busier than Steve is. Has a real job in this organization, I guess.

"I forgot how good it could feel to be tired. Full days and new experiences. Chasing this other asshole all around. But, I mean, I'm getting that travel vacation I always wanted. Went to the coolest natural history museum. It was, like, a literal cave. And rock climbing. I had to do some crazy rock climbing. God, I just wish I could be doing this with you."

He laid out all of the yellow M&Ms across Riley's headstone and then leaned over to kiss the stone itself. "I'll see you later, man. Won't stay away for so long this time. Tell my mama and dad I said hi for me and I'll stop by and see your mama, alright? Be good."

He let himself trace Riley's name one more time before he stood up and collected his trash and blanket. He shoved it all back into his bag before casting one more look around. There was no one. No best-friends-come-back, no shadows, no other picnic-ers. Up in the sky, the birds had come back, circling around each other and tumbling down and then soaring back up with joyful little calls.

Sam smiled at them as his heart squeezed in his chest again. "Yeah, I see you, Riley," he said. "I'm right there too."

[minetasreplacement]

Chapter 1

However Alia THOUGHT her day would go, made her in for a adrenaline filled awakening.

Alia awoke with a yawn, stretching what she had of her purple wings before the rest of her feathers rejoiced to the ones that clung to her back. She sat in bed looking at herself in her light surrounded mirror. Gods, her hair was a mess. She needed it cut, her bangs had gone straight again when she was meant to have curtains and the rest of her hair’s layers were barely visible. She stood, grabbing a purple hairbrush that was on her dresser and started brushing her dirty blonde locks. 

The longer she took to get ready, the more it set in that finals for eighth grade were nearing, the progressive thinking about it only lead her in one direction. Realizing she had to start applying for high-school entrance exams. 

She knew she wanted to be a hero. Ever since she was little and could start learning history properly, she heard stories about the amazing heroes that took down the greatest obstacle the world had ever met. All for One. She wanted to be part of that protection, to keep the people she cared about safe, her friends, her family, the world. She knew her quirk would be useful for it too, fierce wings. It's the same quirk that her (2nd place) idol has, Hawks. He was a fighter in the final battle against AFO, his strategies were something Alia had studied over, knowing it’d help her progress with her own.

She was done getting ready, a nice pair of flared jeans, a white top and her regular maroon red zip up. Of course, not without her silver jewelry- layered chains and a few rings. She nearly never left without them. She took her phone off the charger and looked at the time wide eyed- 6:58. She had to be at the bus stop by 7:02- she had to hurry, get her shoes on- oh get her computer off her bed… and pack her bag. Alia practically scrambled to get out of the house, kissing her mom goodbye and slinging her backpack over her right shoulder. By a miracle, she managed to make it in time, not without panting and apologizing to Ms. G while getting on though. She received a glare while getting on, three seats from the front. She groaned.

“Kelley…” she mumbled, walking past her and sitting in the seat behind her, noticing it was the only nearby empty one. 

“Thalia.” She responded in a sly, mocking tone.

Alia scoffed and attempted to return her breathing to normal from running the long distance. She rolled her eyes and took her earbuds out of her pocket, putting them in and listening to some music. She hummed along to “If - by, Janet Jackson” while she thought about the interaction. Liv was never a pleasant one to see, they used to be best friends but once she dropped Alia in fifth grade before crawling back to her two months later, there was always a doubt in their friendship, so Alia decided to give it up completely in the early spring of that year, finally acknowledging the toxicity of it. 

Before Alia could even think back to their other old friend groups, they arrived at school and were being dismissed off the buses. Everyone started scrambling to their lockers or breakfast, Alia buying juice and heading off to her locker. She wasn't the “lock type.” Sure, the school would originally put a zip tie on your locker if you didn't have one but it was easy to work around that so they gave up early in the school year knowing most people already had locks.

“Thalia!” said a familiar voice. Alia quickly whipped her head to see one of her bestfriends walking towards her from Seniora Wisa’s homeroom class. 

Alia’s standard, normally pissy expression immediately became warm as she smiled and gave a wave before tending back to gathering her things.

“What's up Rye?” Alia grinned as her friend came up next to her locker. She held her things and her locker slammed shut behind her making her flinch.

“I told you to tell me when you’d do that!” Alia yelped as her feathers puffed out.

“Oh- Sorry… I forgo-” Rylee started an apology before getting cut off.

“Watch it, Tabatha.” Jake said, shoving into Alia, neither of them realizing the slam of the locker had ended up with her in the near middle of the hallway. Sebastian glared at her with a snicker, setting off fire in his hand as their group walked off.

Alia sighed at the nickname, “Let's just go, I want to look at applications.” She gestured towards the stairs with her wings, hands full with school supplies.

“Right- well-” she stuttered “I know your quirk is useful for hero work but are you sure you want to look into that..? Can't we all just stay on our path into our district’s highschool..?”

Alia and Rylee made their way down the stairs. “I’ve been talking about this week’s applications for months. I really want this Rylee… Besides, your parents are always moving with your- what, six siblings?”

“Six?? Where’d you get that from?! It's three. Not counting my older sister”

“Right, four, but you’ll probably be gone by Junior year.” Alia mumbled the last part in sadness, not wanting to think too much about the fact that she won't see her best friend if they move.

Rylee huffed, but immediately gained her happy smile right back once she caught a glimpse of their other best friends, Rory and Meri.

Rory was her normal self, jumper, jean shorts, messy thin blonde aligning nearly perfectly with her emitter quirk she let roam behind her in a stylish fashion, “seamstress.” Meri was wearing black leggings and a beautiful blouse with her gold jewelry aligning her elven-like ears. But… she looked mad, which was weird, she was never mad..? None of them ever were. With the exception of Alia when she rambled about her younger sister.

“Hey- oh- is it that thing about Renity?” Rylee asked cautiously as she approached.

“YES! I don't understand how she thinks she can just completely ignore me now?!” She yelled, slamming her locker while putting her school things in a tote bag at her side. 

As much as Alia was intrigued and wanted to know more about her ignorant ex friend– who left the group so she could pay more attention to her psychiatrist and an attempt to get better mentally– she needed to focus, the most she could. She knew she was eligible for an abroad application with a rare quirk like hers. The only reason she got it was because of a passed male dominant gene on her mom’s side from her great great great grandfather. Which even then, it was a miracle that he got it from- actually, that's too long of a chain and she needed to keep her eyes on the prize.

She entered room two-hundred and six to see a line of sorted sheets on the lectern. Her eyes lit up as she went to her seat and fiddled with a feather she let fall from her wings.

“Ah! Thalia, I need to talk to you after class.” Miss. Tusk requested, giving her a proud and knowing grin. 

Alia’s brows furrowed and she nodded, fiddling with the feather even more. Her mind was wild, wondering if she had been lucky enough to have a school want her, if there was an agency wondering if she could train there first year into highschool. So many thoughts popped into her head that hadn't even occurred to her once, and it was stressing her out.

The class went through the motions of looking over schools in New York before Miss. Tusk showed and reviewed how to use a website that guided each student over good schools in other states. 

“And if you get a good school recommendation from another country, you’ll receive a letter from the school board.” Miss. Tusk smiled and took a glance at Alia, who was zoned out, mumbling at her laptop. “The school admission requests are due by the end of next week, and if you fail to turn one in, you will be put into our district's highschool. Which, as you know, is not a hero course school.” Miss. Tusk peeks at the clock to her left and sighs. “You may use these last five minutes to review schools before the bell rings.”

Alia went blurry eyed after that sentence, she scrolled through schools from across the states, finding none that interested her. None of her favorite heroes went to big and flashy schools, which- she didn’t need to either but none of the smaller ones really stood out to her either.

The bell blared and happy chatter erupted her mumbling, she shut her laptop, stacking her things and turning to see a towering Miss. Tusk.

“Oh- hi Miss. Tusk, sorry, I nearly forgot. What did you want to talk to me about?” Alia looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re needed in the office, the school emailed the best hero training school in the world, recommending you go. A few teachers pitched in to express their joy of having you as a student.” Miss. Tusk started, Alia’s jaw dropping. “It’s a school in Japan, called U.A.? I’m sure you’ve learnt about it in History.” Miss. Tusk smirked, handing Alia an envelope.

“U.A.?! Are you kidding?! Holy shit! Deku, Dynamite and Shoto all went there!” Alia screamed, her feathers puffing out and spreading out to their full length.

“Uh- who?” Miss. Tusk barely got out before seeing the pure sparkles in Alia’s eyes, deciding not to worry about it.

Alia was in a fit of giggles but paused when she backtracked “Wait- did other people get these?”

“Well, the school also submitted a recommendation form on your behalf and one other girl- uh- Rylee Storm? And four people got recommended for the entrance exam.” Miss. Tusk was about to list the request names but before she could, Alia squealed and grabbed her stuff.

“Thank you so much Miss. Tusk! Oh my gods thank you!” Alia yelled her way out the door, making her way to Seniora Wisa’s room.

“RYLEE” she screamed as she bursted through the door.

“You got it too?!” she said, turning from the Spanish teacher to see Alia dropping her things on a random desk and running to her.

Rye pulled Alia into a tight embrace while Seniora Wisa watched, proud of the two before interrupting.

“You know, you two are the only kids the district has ever put recommendations up for. Your other two friends only got requests to take the entrance exam.” the teacher said in a soothing voice as she floated a clipboard towards her with her telekinetic quirk. “You guys will probably get in just from the recomm-”

“WHAT?!” Alia and Rylee screamed in sync and looked at Wisa in shock. “Which of our friends?!” Alia asked in a seemingly constant state of shock.

“Uhh…” She scanned the clipboard with her finger, stopping at assuming a name or two. “Rory Spiral and Meraki Dale- Oh! And that Jane Smith, you guys are friends with her too right?”

Rylee and Alia radiated pure joy. They toothily smiled at each other, Alia’s wings flapping, causing a few papers to swirl, to which her feathers neatly put them back.

“Thank you, Thalia. You two and your friends have been given the option because of these offers to leave after the start of third period.” Seniora Wisa spoke hesitantly, “As I said, you need to go to the office for this period, you guys getting in on recommendations is serious. Especially with your discipline record Thalia.”

In that moment, Rylee and Seniora could see the stars of happiness in Alia’s eyes crack and shatter. Her smile faded nearly instantly. Dread filled her head and all she could think about was her suspension from last year.

“Surely that doesn’t carry into highschool- right..?” Rylee questioned her teacher. “Especially not abroad– right?”’

Seniora went silent, a stack of sticky notes and a pen floating over to her.

“Truely, I’m not sure, it's just something I thought you should think about.” She said, writing a pass on a sticky note and handing it to Rylee. “You two should go to the office now.” She said with obvious pity in her voice.

The two walked out, Alia letting all her feathers loose and under her control, making them carry her supplies and Rylee’s with the exception of their envelopes and the pass. Alia had a clenched fist as she turned in the direction of her locker, opening it, allowing her feathers to stuff her laptop and folders in her bag. 

“Let's go to the office.” Alia said in the calmest voice she could manage.

Rylee nodded, understanding her unintentional mumble, then walking from the third floor to the first.

“It’ll be fine Thalia- I’m sure the recommendation will play a part in erasing it too-” Rylee stopped talking when she realized Alia didn't even want to respond.

Alia took a deep breath as they approached the main office door, opening it with a smile and Rylee trailing behind her.

“Mr. Willow, they’re here!” a random office worker called for the vice principal in a sweet tone.

The talk was very long, he himself wasn't sure if the suspension would be erased from her record or not, but it was “very likely.” They received little plaques, congratulating them on being the first two to receive recommendations from the school to good hero courses and agencies. He was an annoying go-lucky guy, but because of Thalia’s pissy mood, it only made him less tolerable. She hated his office, whenever she entered it, she felt like she did something wrong, which most of the time was the case, but none of her friends had ever been in there and yet the office workers knew her appearance and her name as if they were told to be careful.

It was tiring and made her want to leave as soon as she heard that damn bell. So, she did.

Future Heros - AspenDemon (Wattpad, coming to Ao3 soon.)

[butlerettes]

The Bookstore

Chapter 1

It was a gorgeous day.  The sun was high above the sub-neighborhood of Los Feliz.  You had just gotten your lunch and had a few minutes to kill.  The only place that drew your attention was Skylight Books.  An indie bookstore on Vermont Ave.  You had rode your bike to soak in the rays of the sun.  Plus, you wanted to ride off some of the calories.  

Entering the bookstore, you took in the smell, the musk, the paper and the print. The way new books felt under fingers, how the print would smear.  And the sheer joy it brought you.  Walking over to your favorite section you find one of the books you have been looking for.   “The Catcher in the Rye” has a plain red cover.  This is one of your favorite books.  You don’t have this cover.  Moving your hand down the spines of the books you are almost transitioned to another realm until your hand lands on an interesting spine.  “If he had been with me”.  You pull it out.  Just as you were adjusting your books, a tall man, with dirty blonde hair, messy, looked like he was also in a hury came down the same aisle.  He was not paying any attention to you at all. So you ignore him. Because he is standing in the middle of the aisle you move around him.  You pick another book, one you had heard about but never read, “Where the crawdads sing”.  The movie was coming out, why not give it a read. 

Adjusting your books yet again, you start the trek to the checkout counter.  Not noticing the tall man had left, you turn the corner, running smack dab into the tall, blonde man.  Books get flung down, flying into the air his books get knocked into you.You both lean down reaching for the respective books as both of you hit your foreheads together.  You got a whiff of his cologne; it was inebriating.  He grabbed your “Catcher in the Rye”, “This is my all-time favorite book,” He says.  Looking into each other's souls.  His eyes are very close to yours.  So blue and near perfect.  His seems brighter than yours.  He starts to gather the rest of the books.  He hands you, yours.  “It’s not my favorite, but it’s up there,” giving him an answer.  “which one is your favorite?" You pause, then nod, “I think it would be the Outsiders.”  “That’s a good one.”  You brush yourself off.  You exchange apologies and you both walk to check out.

“Austin,” he mentions holding his empty hand out.  You grab it and shake, “Y/N”, reciprocating.  He smiles, “Nice to… uh meet you.”  Giggling, you respond with, “You as well.”  You were next in line.  Putting your books on the counter, Austin offered to pay for your books but you declined.  Thanking him, you went to unlock your bike.  As you were getting on your bike you heard a husky voice saying, "Thanks again."  He doesn't look your way.  You both leave opposite directions.

You head back to work to finish the rest of your day reading a new author.  You liked her work, but had to get it published.  You work for Legacy Launch Pad Publishing.  From the bookstore it is a 13 minute bike ride.  You pedal fast to see if you can get there quicker.  Starting the timer, you actually arrive in ten minutes.  Parking your bike around the back, you head to your office.   

Your office is small, but quaint.  You have your desk with your computer.  It's a mess.  Mauscripts are covering it.  You have sticky notes all over.  There are two chairs facing your desk.  Four book shelves adorn your back wall, filled with books, and a few knick knacks.  You have a window and carpet on the floor.  Your office is a little messy,  you will clean it someday, but for now back to work.

You start to pack up from your workday, when you get a call.  "Hello, this is Y/N with Legacy Launch Pad Publishing, how can I help you?" You answer.  "Gross, everytime you do that it makes me want to hurl," y/frn says disgusted.  "I have to answer the phone that way, you know this." You reply.  "We are going out to eat tonight, want to come?".  "Sure, where?" You ask.   "Messhall Kitchen." She responds.  "Around 6."

After dropping your bike off, you head to dinner.   Waiting for you are your four best friends.  You have been friends with Y/frN since elementary and the other three college years.  Sitting at the table you discuss how everyone's day went.  When it came time for your turn.  You explain how your day went, "I also ran into a man.  He's tall, sandy blonde hair, he smelled heavenly, and even offered to pay for my books." "Did you get a name?" quizzed Y/frN.  "He said his name was Austin," you reply.  She squints her eyes and scrunches her nose, "what is his last name?" "I don't know what it is, he never said."  Your friend sitting across from you nearly spits her drink out, "You said he was tall, blonde, and smelled good.  “Did he have messy hair?"  "Yeah, I guess."  Three of your friends' mouths open in unison.  Looking at each other, the other friend says, "Babe, you met Austin Butler."   Feeling like a total ass for not knowing who that was, you ask softly, "Who is that?"  All of them started to talk at once.  You finally hear one of them say, "Are you serious? You really don't know who he is?"  "No, should I?" "Girl, he played Elvis in the movie."  You should have watched that movie, but you just haven't had the time.  Reacting, "Oh, It's on my watch list."  "Please tell me it is at the top of your list."  "Hey, was this the guy?" Showing a picture of Austin.  "Yup, that's him." 

[queen-rainy-love]

Hi hope im not bothering you!!

Can you do a scenario of Gumball stealing Mint Choco’s violin? And Cherry says that he’s taking this “rivalry” too far (hc of mine lmao). He says its fine, and that its better than exploding his stage. Pancake agrees with Cherry and tells him that Avocado will get mad at him, and says he has seen Mint Choco being stressed out too much if he doesn’t have his violin. Gumball thinks about it, but shrugs it off and tells them he think MC can do fine without his “precious little violin.”

Annnd…then we see Mint Choco having an entire meltdown about his missing violin. He’s hitting his head with his hands and walking around in circles with his eyes closed, not responding to his friends (going nonverbal). Vampire, Herb, and Sparkling are trying to calm him down. Herb holds Mint’s hands and reassures him that Rye, CC, and Almond are finding his violin. Mint Choco cries and shakes his head trying to tell him “No they’re never gonna find my violin” but Vampire tells them they will. Sparkling also says that whoever took it will face the consequences.

Almond and Rye eventually finds Gumball with the violin. Clotted Cream demands Gumball to come with them. They all go to MC and Gumball sees Mint Choco’s hair disorganized, tear stains, and he looks a bit sweaty. Almond pushes Gumball gently towards MC, and Rye tells him what he wants to say to MC. He tells him sorry for messing with him and for stealing his violin, and gives him it back. Mint Choco stares at him but simply “Hmph!” And stomps away from him, of course harshly getting his violin back.

Vampire tells Gumball he’ll probably accept his apology but also says this: “You really should’ve done that, he’s autistic and he gets extremely overwhelmed.” Gumball asked him what does autistic mean. Everyone just sighs in disappointment, and CC and Herb explain it to him. Gumball says: “Oh…I really messed up, didn’t I?” Sparkling tells him that he did but says maybe this will teach you not to mess with anyone else. Almond also punishes him by making do community service for a week.

(fun fact: this happened to me in 3rd grade before I got diagnosed with autism 💀👍. Sorry for projecting my experience. Sorry for also bothering you—)

(Also this is a 1/2. Part 2 soon.)

Hello! This doesn't bother me! I don't mind writing this. Also, this will be the first time I've written a character with autism, so please let me know if I did anything wrong.

Let's go!

*The scene is set in the Parfait District of the Cookie Kingdom. We follow Gumball, Cherry, and Pancake sneaking around Sparkling's outdoor bar. Sitting right on the bar was a green violin case.*

Cherry: *concern* Are you sure this is a good idea? Don't you think this rivalry thing is going too far? Won't we get in trouble?

Gumball: Don't worry, cuz. It'll be fine. And besides, this is better than exploding his stage with paint. I'm not dealing with Aunt Avocado again.

Pancake: I agree with big sister Cherry. Mom will get mad at you if you do this. Plus...I've seen Mint Choco stressed out whenever he's away from his violin. I don't think you should do this prank.

*Gumball thought about his prank a bit more. But he brushes it off and grabs the violin case. He then runs off, with Cherry and Pancake running after him.*

Gumball: (I'm sure Mint Choco will be fine without his precious little violin.)

*Three minutes later, the scene changes to Mint Choco having a meltdown. He hits his head with his hands while walking in circles and his eyes closed to keep tears from falling. Vampire, Herb, and Sparkling tried to calm him down, trying to get a response from him, only to find out that Mint Choco has gone nonverbal.*

Herb: Mint Choco. *gently grabs Mint Choco's hands* Everything is going to be okay. Rye, Clotted Cream, and Almond are looking for whoever took your violin. Let's sit down and-

Mint Choco: N-no! *starts shaking his head* No! They're not gonna find it! Never gonna find it!

Vampire: Hey...it's okay. They will find it. They're the best searchers in the kingdom.

Sparkling: And those thieves will face consequences once they're caught. I'm sure of it.

Herb: Let's get you to sit down and we can get you something to drink. Would that be okay? *Mint Choco nods* Alright.

Sparkling: I'll get you some grape soda to drink.

*Meanwhile, Almond, Rye, and Clotted Cream were still searching for Mint Choco's violin. They looked around to find the green violin case.*

Clotted Cream: Where could it be?

Almond: It should be around here...*notices Gumball holding something familiar.* Hey Rye...

Rye: I see him. Oi! Boy! *Gumball flinches and turns his head around* Whatcha got there?

Gumball: N-nothing!

Almond: Really? Because I don't remember your cannon being that small and green.

Gumball: Um...

Clotted Cream: Save it. We already know. Go give Mint Choco his violin back. Now.

Gumball: And if I don't?

Clotted Cream: We'll tell Avocado about this prank.

Gumball:...Fine...

*The group walked all the way back to Sparkling's outdoor bar. Occupying there was Mint Choco, Vampire, Herb, and Sparkling, three of each were keeping an eye on Mint Choco and making sure he was alright. Gumball was shocked by what he saw. Mint Choco looked nothing like he usually looks like: his hair was disorganized, his face had tear stains running down his face, and sweat was dripping off his face.*

Almond: Go on. *gently nudges Gumball toward Mint Choco*

Rye: You better tell him you're sorry for all that you did.

*Gumball walked up to the older Cookie. He took a deep breath before speaking up.*

Gumball: Um...Mint Choco? *Mint Choco looks up and his eyes widen as Gumball hands over his violin case* I...I'm sorry for taking your violin. I was just pulling a prank. I didn't think it would go this far. I'm sorry.

*Mint Choco looks at his violin case, then at Gumball. Before Gumball could say anything else, Mint Choco harshly yanks the violin case away from Gumball.*

Mint Choco: Hmph! *stomps away*

*As everyone watches Mint Choco stomps away, Vampire flicks Gumball's forehead.*

Gumball: Ow!! I apologized! But he didn't accepted it!

Vampire: Oh don't get him wrong. He'll probably accept your apology but you really shouldn't have done that.

Gumball: How was I suppose to know that he'll react to like that?!

Vampire: Well, he's autistic! He gets extremely overwhelmed!

Gumball: ...What? Autistic? What is that?

*Everyone sighs, leaving Gumball feeling a bit dumb.*

Herb: You are a child...but you should still know about this. You see...Autism, and I'm simplifying this a lot, is where a Cookie has difficulty in social and communication skills.

Clotted Cream: Now, not every Cookie has the same symptoms for autism but there are some similarities that do contribute. Like a delay of spoken language, a.k.a. going nonverbal or being sensitive to loud sounds.

Herb: And Mint Choco will have his anxiety heightened if he gets triggered.

Gumball: Oh...I really messed up, didn't I?

Sparkling: You did, but hopefully, this will teach you to not cross a line with other Cookies. Pranks are only funny when everyone finds it funny, not just you.

Almond: That's a good lesson and I think you should also have a punishment to really let the lesson sink in. Community service for a week.

Gumball: ...That's fair.

[dandelionlovesyou]

If THG's characters are a fanfic writers/readers, what do you feel would be their AO3/ffn account name and icon?

Also, what would be their preferred read (example : rating = K, T, G, M, E; type = canon, canon-divergent, modern AU etc.) and what kind of comments would they leave on a fic?

You can include as many characters as you can or want.

Thank you so much 😊

@curiousnonny

Hi @curiousnonny!

Thank you for sending this ask to the fandom world =) I super enjoyed everyone's answers. Here is my take =D

Katniss - I’d say she’s mostly a reader of Prim’s and Madge’s fics. She didn’t even make her account, Madge made it for her at the library with her phone using the school’s free WiFi. Madge named her account ineedAwarmaHug0508 and Katniss was totally mad about it, but she didn’t know how to edit or delete the account so she just scowled at Madge the whole week. One day, Madge showed her a black and white fanart sketch of her OTP made by Whatsyourfavoritecolor314 and she decided to subscribe to it. She didn’t know the whirlwind she was in for because this account updated regularly and posted impeccable works. At night, she would end up reading the fanfics that Whatsyourfavouritecolor314 made the fanart for. Rating limit: M. But writers often rate their stories lower so …

Prim - Writes mostly fluffy stories. Those with cats and dogs, warm hugs, flowers, and the meadows. Loves modern AU and travel fics. She lets her ship kiss in the third chapter because she can’t stand slow burn. Madge always tells her to wait and to build things up even more but she doesn’t like it. If they’re meant to be then they’re meant to be. Her OTP likes holding hands, smiling at each other with the biggest and goofiest smiles, and making chicken soup and hot tea when one is sick. They always get married at the end. Toastbabies are a must in every epilogue. Her account would be lifeisbeautiful. Her icon would be a yellow flower.

Peeta - Of course a fan artist! But he also dabbles in writing because he is very good with words. He’s Whatsyourfavoritecolor314 and he supports all kinds of fan artists out there. He would leave a lengthy comment that you would reserve reading last because you want to take your time savoring his praise and replying to his comment. His writing is mostly dark and he writes every time he has a nightmare. It helps him sort out what’s real and what’s not real. His writing account is under a different name: nobodyneedsme. Finnick and Rye are the only two people who know his writing account. He often gets fic recs from people in the fandom.

Johanna - Definitely a chili pepper in her writing. She loves writing threesomes, narrating all the bodily fluids that get released and sucked by whoever in the tangled mess of limbs and hair. Invents words for body parts that leave everyone wet and blushing. She uses languages from her heritage and loves making things spicy hot (hot! hot! hot! ) Only writes angst, and canon-typical violence, and there is no assurance of a HEA. Read at your own risk. You don’t like it? Don’t read. Never skip the trigger warnings in her fics. She couldn’t care less about hits and subscribers. She has a gazillion followers though, because of her smutty fics, and she rolls out drabbles faster than you can send an ask. Account name: JoMason07

Rue - besties with Prim. They do a lot of collab during the weekends and have an actual notebook where they write their ideas. They switch between chapters and plot the whole story together while giggling like crazy for their OTP. Rue makes a playlist for all of their fic and they listen to it while they write for inspo. Account name: ihavewings. Writes K to T, but she and Prim are thinking of writing up to M after they graduate from high school.

Effie - fandom mom. Organizes writing sprints, book rereads, and challenges. Checks up on everybody. Runs an impressive archive and posts like clockwork. She invests in setting up prizes for challenge writers, fan artists, and readers. Reads all fics. M are her faves. 

Haymitch - reader of historical AUs. Leaves drunk comments which Plutarch Heavensbee has to rationalize. His icon would be his goose.

Gale - reader. And he only reads because he found out from Prim and Rory that Katniss reads fanfiction. He loves historical AUs and multi-chapter dark fics. He leaves comments that create an uproar and he gets into a heated exchange every time. His icon would be a black and white wolf with piercing eyes. Account name: SilentHunter

Annie - ships extraordinary ships. Super loyal to her extraordinary ship, writing stories that go up to 70+ chapters. She writes until her characters are senior citizens, living peacefully and loving each other just like when they were teenagers. Icon: a lady with her back to the camera, staring peacefully at the horizon by the beach. Name: lovingstories

Finnick - loves dragon fics and fairy tale/ Greek/Roman-inspired fics. He doesn’t write but leaves lengthy comments that give writers ideas to research and integrate into their stories. Name: anysecretsworthmytime. Icon: A photo taken from behind of him hugging Annie during their afternoon walks by the beach. 

Cinna - reader, gif, and fic aesthetic maker. He helps you leave an impression. Icon: eye with gold eyeliner. Name: eyeforbeauty

I suppose that’s it. This was fun and hard at the same time. Lol.

Take care, @curiousnonny

[harryglass]

#WrongRhymes29

Can you un-muddle this mess?

The fox is smart and very dry The mountain top is very shy He turned his hair pink using rye Your clothes are wet, but they will fly Bread is made from wheat and dye The toddler hid and went all sly Give me wings and I will sigh She gave up with a heavy high

[wolverteen]

baked grace

cw nothing but fluff, maybe a little angst if you squint

sum slightly avoiding home, you're baking with peeta and rye.

pair peeta mellark + victor!reader

a/n baking lemon glazed loaf with peet and rye ughh he’s just so..they’re both so…sue me.

your hands ran through his hair and puffs of flour chalked his golden locks, which he shook out almost immediately. peeta’s hands worked on the half-kneaded dough you prepared the night before. it rose perfectly as the two of you slept and held each other the entire night, leaving little warmth to imagination. “is rye almost here?” he asks you.

usually, when you or his older brother, rye, knead dough, it’s not without grunts of strength, but peeta’s strong arms and capable hands never failed to transport wheat sacks.

“he should be here any minute! i did say six, didn’t i?” you look towards the door and following your words, rye bursts through the doors holding a small bag smeared in white powder from no covering and a pitcher of clear water. “don’t underestimate me, sweetheart,” the older mellark speaks as he sets away the ingredients.

his job was to glaze the soon-to-be-baked bread; the loaf was to be lemon-y and you picked a handful of lemons to make sure the flavor dug in through the abundance of wheat. two fruits were left over for rye to flavor the sugary topping with zest. you smirk and hop on the other counter, away from the subtle white clouds and your loving boyfriend.

he glanced at you briefly as you just watched him, rye occasionally moving between the two of you. “what?” he asks with a smile, “wanna come help?”

“nah, you do it well. i’m here if you need a support kiss, though,” you say, bringing a blush to his cheeks. he curved the dough evenly and sets it down in the spread of flour before walking over to you and bringing his lips to yours. peeta’s lips raise and before you could pull away, he places his messy hands on each side of your head, getting flour on your temples and into your hair.

your mouth drops agape, but you didn’t resist the smile of disbelief. “contamination,” he whispers to you, giving another small kiss, but on your cheek. you scoffed, “since when did district twelve care about contamination?”

his strong arms carried you off the countertop and your shoes met the floor; it didn’t bother you to help, but you didn’t have as much experience as the baker’s sons. peeta followed behind you as your stepped to the sink and ran the water along your hands, using the small lye-derived soap bar along your palms. peeta guided you over to the main counter and nodded towards the dough, waiting for your actions. it’s not that you didn’t know what to do, but you just didn’t want to mess up. a few kneading motions later, peeta wiped his hands and grabbed a loaf pan.

you transferred the dough and set it in the oven, which had been given a new batch of coals early in the morning, and shrugged humbly as peeta gave slow claps at the simple task.

“scoot,” rye mumbles as he pushes past the two of you with the bag he held before and two plump lemons. his hands were fresh from a wash and so were the fruits; you handed him a knife to split them and he squeezed them with his other hand underneath to catch seeds, all over a ready bowl. rye uses a large spoon to scoop the powdered sugar into the bowl.

“peeta, the whisk?” he requests in a sharper tone, but he gets it in his hand quick. you shoot the younger brother raised brows with a small smile. rye was particular about glazes and his dark eyes reflected that concentration.

as he whisked, rye tutted down and added more of the sugar. you enjoyed smaller moments like this. being with peeta and not needing a declaration of love to show you that he loves when you’re around and with his family.

yours resided in victor’s village where you wanted them away from questions about the games and capitol by any means. it’s been almost four years since your “victory” and the only people to bring it up since were rye and peeta, but with your consent.

the older mellark only ever expressed curiosity and sympathies when peeta was away and you needed objective advice on how to deal. you couldn’t with peeta, he was always on your side. you’ve come to terms with your actions and you did earn respect throughout the district and districts alike for such.

peeta’s hand brushed yours, “thinking?” he asked. you shook your head and gave a brief flash of teeth. you would save slices of the zesty loaf for your family, but the village was safer and they got comfortable quick. you? you couldn’t not come back. the smell of fresh bread and the comfort of your lover was more than enough to draw you back and make you stay nights in his bed.

“rye, you close to done?” you tapped him and he turned his head and nodded, “mhm.”

the taller brunet soon turned completely and held the bowl close to him and tapped the whisk against the rim. he held the bowl close to you and the whisk to you lips, letting you lick the sweetness off of it before he set it away in the sink. “mmm,” you nodded and smiled, satisfied with his creation. your eyes lit up and peeta moved his hand to your waist from behind, “let me know when you’re done, yeah?” he spoke sarcastically.

rye rolled his eyes. the three of you spent time cleaning up around the kitchen and restocking whatever was delivered at the door. once the loaf finished baking, peeta gathered his oven mitts and took it out, setting it down on the counter to cool. “gonna be good,” he says.

you smell the steam from the bread, a faint lemon scent with a wave of warmth approaching your face. before the loaf could cool completely, it was taken out the pan and set in a cutting board. rye dripped the glaze along the top, tilting the additive to the sides for extra flavor.

rye steps back and discards the materials into the sink, “so..middle piece?” “is mine,” peeta says, leaning on the counter. you already had a knife out and set next to the dessert.

[katnissmellarkkk]

Hiiii, y’all! I got drabble requests — that I love and appreciate and will be writing v soon — but somehow this is the concept that my brain wanted to write tonight. I was reading a fic and I got suddenly inspired and this extremely angsty, canon compliant oneshot was born. I’ve never written in Peeta’s point of view before though so go easy on me 🥺😘😅.

Trigger Warning : As it centers around Peeta’s childhood, it contains strong mentions of maternal abuse.

Summary : Peeta confronts his regretful mother the night the Quarter Quell is announced.

“Did you ever love me at all?”

I stare at her, the woman who used to hit me with a belt, who turned my face black and blue with her open palm, who put angry red lines across my back, who chased me down the upstairs hallway until I was cornered and trapped, until I was at her mercy. The woman who singlehandedly became the motivation behind Rye’s wrestling career and subsequently mine too.

She’s a mess now. Her blonde hair tied up in a disastrous bun, the small amount of makeup she can afford — and cherishes like gold — smeared all around her eyes, her knuckles bright red, like she’d banged her fist into the wall with all the force in her body.

She’s not a big lady. She’s nowhere near as large as she seemed when I was a kid. Back when I was small and naive and all I wanted was her attention. All I wanted was for her to care about me.

I’m twice her size now. I’m as tall as Rye and barely two inches shorter than Rueben. Our father still has all three of us beat in size but I sense my eldest brother will surpass him any day now.

I’m twice her size and she can’t hurt me now even if she tried and yet, when I stand before her, one on one, I still feel like the little boy who asked her to kiss better the mark that came from inside her own fist.

“Mama,” I murmur quietly, alerting her suddenly to my presence.

Her head flies up from her desk at once, staring at me in shock. “Peeta?”

“Hi,” I whisper, my vocal cords giving out when I need them most. I try to swallow the lump building in my throat — the lump I always feel when in her presence — and instead I make it worse.

“What’re you doing here?” She asks and there’s no malice in her tone but I flinch just the same. Because I don’t know. I don’t know what to tell her. I don’t know why I came here.

Because you’re my mother and you were my first home and I miss you even though I spent every day of my life wishing to escape from you?

Because I’m headed back into an arena once again, this time for certain death of my own accord, and I feel like if I don’t do this now I never will.

Because Katniss turned to Gale in her hour of need and I can’t fault her, I can’t blame her for loving him, but it stings. It stings so bad. It stings and it hurts and it throbs to the point where I think I might explode and when I’m in pain, all I can think about is you. All I can think about is you and your rage and your rejection and my being a constant disappointment to you. All I can think about is how much pain you inflicted on me when I was only a child. What did I do to deserve that?

“Peeta?” She inquires again when I don’t reply, squinting at me through the darkness of the night. We have to be quiet or else we’ll wake my father, sleeping only twenty feet away in the next room.

I can smell her breath from here. It mildly surprises me, to sniff alcohol so blatantly on her. Typically it’s my father who drinks away his sorrows. Typically it’s him who passes out drunk and one of us boys are dispatched to bring him home and put him to bed before he can disgrace his wife beyond repair.

“Why were you drinking?” I ask, avoiding the question in her baby blue eyes. The same eyes she gave to me. I don’t even know why people claim I look like my father. I stare at my mother like I’m staring into a mirror. I have her upturned blue eyes and matching nose. I have her downturned mouth and rounded chin. I have her exact shade of white blonde hair and the barely visible eyelashes too. I have her mannerisms when upset and sometimes when I close my eyes, I swear I can hear her berating me like not a day has passed since I lived under her thumb.

She looks down at the empty glass bottle by her feet, as if her inebriation is news to even her. I see a flare of defensive anger flash across her face — she has so many different kinds of anger. I wonder if it’s normal to be able to identify them all in under a second. I wonder if it’s normal to feel a knot twist in your stomach when your mother reaches for your hand — but she composes herself. She composes herself and reaches for my hand and I pull away on instinct because the only times she ever showed me affection was after she’d hurt me real bad.

She has the good sense now to look down at the ground, at least. Finally, she is feeling a tinge of the rejection she drowned me in my whole entire life.

“How did you get in here?” She asks quietly, standing up from her chair, straightening her spine and meeting my gaze. Transforming into someone else again.

Rejection has always made her change shape.

“Dad left the backdoor unlocked. I came up through the side stairwell,” I tell her evenly, but we both know that’s not the answer she’s looking for.

“Why are you here?” Once again, there’s nothing but plain, quiet curiosity in her tone but I still feel my chest ache at the question.

And I can’t drag this out any longer. “Did you ever love me?” I murmur, feeling as pathetic as I know she thinks I am. “Even when I was little? Or when I was born? Did you ever love me at all?”

“You stupid creature!”

“Can you do just one thing right?”

“You think I wanted this life? You think I wanted to be your mother?”

“Of course I did,” she says, maybe for the first time ever, but it barely registers to me. Maybe it’s because after a lifetime of waiting to hear it, the sentiment falls short to the fantasy my mind created. Or maybe it’s because I don’t believe it. Too much has happened. You can’t wipe a chalkboard clean in one night. Especially if the writing on the board is seventeen years old.

Somehow that revelation is the most painful of all and I turn quickly to go before she can clock the liquid quickly building up behind my lids.

“I loved you,” she exclaims abruptly, catching me off-guard. Her outburst paralyzes me into place. “I loved you more than anything,” she proclaims now, and I hear the tears in her voice and the most insane urge to console her wells up deep inside my chest. But I force it down. You can’t make up for seventeen years in one night. “You were my baby. You are, Peeta. You are-“

“Don’t say that,” I hiss, but my mouth feels disconnected from my brain and my head is spinning. I’ve never heard these words before. Not from her. Not ever from her lips. Fury bubbles up inside me as I turn to face her. “Don’t you dare tell me that now. You told me you hated me. So many times.”

“I never said that.”

“You never had to actually say it. I could see it!” I have to make a conscious effort to lower my voice. The last thing I want is to have my father join in on our happy moment right here. “I could see it, Mama. In everything. Every time you looked at me, you acted like I was a disturbance to you. You could barely tolerate being around me-“

But it’s her turn to interrupt me. “It wasn’t you I couldn’t tolerate, Peeta. It was me. You reminded me so much of myself. In ways you can’t even begin to understand. You were so much like me. And I hated being me.”

Her words are earnest, there seems to be an element of truth behind her tone, her tears appear to be real. And what she’s saying tracks. Years ago, my father used to tell me the same thing.

“She doesn’t hate you, Peeta. Sometimes you just remind your mother of the parts of herself she doesn’t like so much.”

“It’s not about you, son. It’s never been about you.”

“She loves you. She loves you, she just can’t express it. She can only see the bad parts of herself. And sometimes that makes her only see the bad parts of her inside you.”

But somehow hearing over and over again that I’m just like the woman who once hit me in the face so hard I told my friends I fell off the bakery roof and they believed me doesn’t give me much comfort at all.

“That’s too bad,” I whisper, realizing we’ve stood in silence for too long. Realizing that my coming to see her tonight was pointless and to come here of all places, after seeing the person I love most in the world in the arms of the one she loves, means I’m nothing more than a glutton for punishment.

I am nothing. Just like my mother always said.

And evidently she’s not even done yet. No, for some reason she’s rambling on, twisting her hands the way she used to in the aftermath of her maltreatment. “You were stubborn. When you were young, you were the most stubborn boy there ever was. And sarcastic. And too hopeful. You believed in fantasies. You always believed you could be more than this district would let you be.”

“What?” I snap, exasperation rising up and decimating the lump in my throat. “You’re not making any sense.”

“I’m telling you all the ways you were like me. All the bad qualities I passed down to you.” She sniffles loudly and wipes her nose in the same way she smacked my hand once with a wooden spoon for doing. “I was trying, Peeta. I was trying to protect you,” she admits desperately. “I thought if I was hard on you, it would prepare you better for life in the long run. I thought that if I could rid you of all my qualities, you would end up happier than me. I was trying to give you what you needed.”

I feel my chest heave involuntarily and I have to look away, ashamed to be crying in her presence. “What I needed was a mother who loved me,” I say through gritted teeth, fighting to keep it together even a little. “If you cared about me at all, that’s what you should have given me. Not bruises and bloody noses because you thought it necessary to beat the qualities you couldn’t stand out of me.”

“I did love you,” she pleads, her eyes — the same eyes as mine — flashing to the empty liquor bottle on the ground. “I do love you, Peeta. So much. After that announcement tonight, I was beside myself. I can’t stand the idea of you heading back into that place-“

But I can’t stand the idea of letting her finish that sentence. “Is that why you told me last year that Katniss was District Twelve’s big winner? That she’s a survivor?”

And in an instant, she’s casting her gaze down towards her shoes, the remorse splayed plainly across her features. Almost inaudibly, she still attempts to explain. “I was always most motivated when trying to prove someone wrong. I didn’t mean-“

“The last time you may ever see me and you thought to give me some kind of reverse psychology?” I exclaim, still seeing bright red.

Which apparently is another quality I get from her. My ire. As evidenced by her quick tonal shift as well.

“I thought it would make it easier if you didn’t come home again!”

We both fall silent at that. There’s nothing left for me to say. I have all the answers I’ll ever get and there’s nothing she could say that’ll make me feel better. There’s nothing that can erase the past or change my childhood or alter my memory. There’s nothing that can make me forget the way she treated me growing up.

But she’s not done yet. She starts walking towards me and I’m about to leave before this scene gets any more dramatic and my father gets involved, but she grasps my arm before I reach the doorway. She grasps my arm in a gentle hold, so different from the hand that used to stain me purple without remorse.

“I’m sorry, Peeta,” she whispers, begging me to hear her. Begging me to hear her sincerity and remorse. “I’m so sorry for what I did. I’m so sorry for how I treated you. For how I hurt you.”

I shake my head though, the tears I tried so hard to repress flowing freely now. “Stop,” I rasp but she pretends not to hear me.

“You were always a good boy. It was me who was bad. I was the disappointment,” she insists, her voice considerably firm for the amount of salt water coursing down her face. “I was wrong. Not you, honey. Me. I was wrong.”

But you can’t erase seventeen years in one night and I try to break away again, but I’m just too overcome with emotion to refuse any longer.

And then she pulls out a weapon strong enough to cut me to my knees in an instant.

“It wasn’t your fault, Peeta. What I did to you and your brothers wasn’t any of your faults.”

“Stop talking,” I urge desperately, my jaw locked tight and my teeth biting into the soft flesh of my tongue. “Just stop it. Please.”

But her arms are slowly coming around me and she’s close to sobs and she begins to whisper the painful sentiment all over again. “It wasn’t your fault that I hurt you. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that I let you go so long without hearing that. But I don’t want you to die without knowing that I was the one in the wrong. And I would take it all back in a second if I could-“

And I can’t stand it anymore. I give into her hug, collapsing against her with such a force it knocks us both down to our knees. I’m not a little boy anymore, I’m not the child she could so easily hurt, I’m not the kid who was too afraid to stand up for himself or his brothers, but he still exists inside of me. It’s him that wants my mother’s embrace, who wants the apology for the wounds he didn’t understand, for the words that kept him awake at night, that caused him to fall asleep with a damp pillow.

And I know she may just be drunk or that she could take it all back when tomorrow comes. I know that this is merely her guilt speaking and my probable death is hanging heavy over her head. But there was a time when these words were all I ever wanted to hear and I choose to take that for what it’s worth.

It doesn’t mean to me now what it might have years ago. But it still means something.

It still means something.

[13uswntimagines]

Big Nerves For Little Meetings (Krashlyn x Reader)

Request: ashlyn Harris and Ali x reader imagine where the 3 is together but the reader also has a child from a previous relationship and wants ash and Ali to meet the child for the 1st and they both are nervous about it?

Author’s Note: Special thanks to @whatisthiswritingthing, @mp0625 and @kristiemewisstan

It took a lot to shake two of the key players in Orlando’s (and the USWNTs) department of defense, but Ali and Ashlyn were absolutely terrified. Hell, they had faced many challenges and opponents head-on, completely fearless. But they had never faced anything quite like this. 

How was one supposed to prepare for meeting the love of your life’s two-year-old daughter? It didn’t come with an instruction manual and Google hadn’t been helpful at all. If Carter didn’t like them, then they were sure your relationship would be over. 

You were a single mom, something you had been very upfront about when you joined the national team and started dating them, and you were very protective over your daughter (rightfully so). You never wanted her to meet people you were seeing unless you knew they were serious. 

You were sure about Ali and Ash, and so that meant they had to meet the most important person in your life. Orlando was playing against Portland in Portland and it seemed like the perfect opportunity. 

And Ali and Ashlyn agreed that it was a good idea, but now waiting in the locker room, they were beginning to think that maybe it wasn’t. 

“Alright, you’ve gotta stop pacing. You’re starting to make me dizzy,” Alex said from her place on the bench, rubbing her eyes. 

Ali stopped her pacing, and settled down next to Alex, while Ashlyn continued to walk the length of the locker room. 

“What if y/n isn’t ready for this,” Ali asked softly, looking at Alex with vulnerability she rarely showed. 

The forward nodded and brought a hand up to rub the defender’s back. “You two know she doesn’t do anything she doesn’t want to, especially when it comes to that little girl,” she said softly. 

Ali let out a snort. They all knew how true that was. You were stubborn and once your mind was made up, no one could change it. You went toe to toe with Jill when she said you couldn’t have so much as a phone call during the World Cup because it would “break your concentration”. They would never forget you calmly telling her you would walk if she didn’t pull her head out of her ass. In the end, you got your nightly call with your daughter. 

“What if she doesn’t like us?” Ashlyn asked softly, finally sitting down on Alex’s other side, and running an anxious hand through her hair. 

The forward rolled her eyes dramatically. “Psh, I think that’s entirely impossible. Tobin said she’s literally the sweetest thing on the planet,”

Carter was practically attached to Tobin’s hip, and more often than not could be found in the forward’s art room making a mess with her favorite aunt than your own apartment. 

“I still don’t like that she met you guys before us,” Ashlyn grumbled, and Ali nodded along, earning another eye roll from the forward. 

“Y/n lives right next door to Tobin and Chris and I are always hanging out with her. Plus she trains with the Thorns every day. It’s not like she had a choice,” 

Ashlyn huffed and crossed her arms, reminding Alex very much of a toddler. “Still not fair,” 

“We just don’t want to mess this up,” Ali added. 

They knew that you had told Carter about them, and from the drawings, your little girl sent with you to camp to give them, but what if she changed her little mind when she actually came face to face with them. 

“I don’t think you two can. Y/n is crazy about you, and Carter is a little replica of her. It’ll be fine,” Alex said with a rye smile. 

Carter was a splitting image of you, sassy personality and all. Krashlyn were definitely going to have their hands full when your little one let her full personality out. 

“But what are we supposed to say?” Ashlyn asked, desperate for ideas. Sure she was great with Cassius and Roux, but neither of them held the key to keeping one of the women she was in love with. They couldn’t bear to lose you. 

“She’s a two-year-old who loves Mickey. I’m sure you guys can handle it,” Alex laughed, patting their knees before standing and heading to the field. They had a game to win before anything. 

Ali and Ashlyn shared a look, they loved you and they could do this. 

*****

You couldn’t help but smile as you watched your teammates fawn over your tiny human. The sight of Morgan Weaver, Sophia Smith, Tobin, and Lindsey gently tapping a soccer ball with Mickey's face plastered on the side to your daughter (and helping her pass it back) was almost too cute for you to handle. 

It was a sight that you were very slowly becoming accustomed to, and one you could appreciate more than anyone would ever understand. 

For the longest time soccer was your entire world, but then Carter was born. Everything shifted the second you heard her tiny cries. You were prepared to give up everything for her, and you would have if your mom and coaching staff hadn’t shown you that you could have both. 

To actually see your two worlds interacting was something completely different, something you hoped would only get better tonight. 

You laughed lightly when a few purple jerseys joined in the group's little passing game, and Tobin assisted your daughter in nutmegging one Alex Morgan. The women cheered loudly, and Carter flashed them her bright smile in return. 

You knew you were lucky that everyone was so good with her (two days in North Carolina had almost derailed your career entirely, but that was a story for another time), but you noticed that two very important players weren’t amongst the group vying for your little one's attention. 

You looked away from your daughter, searching for your girlfriends, and finding them not too far away, staring anxiously at the tiny human. 

You shook your head as you made your way over to them. 

“Fancy meeting you two here,” You said as you approached the pair. The women finally turned their gaze towards you, large grins breaking across their faces. 

“Hey baby girl,” Ashlyn said, pulling you into a warm hug. 

Ali pressed herself to your other side, completing the hug. “You did amazing out there,” 

“Hmm, thanks, but I’m sorry I ruined your cheat sheet,” You hummed, pulling back to smirk at your favorite keeper. 

She rolled her eyes at you, “I think you did a little more than ruin it,” she said, leaning in and placing a light kiss on your lips. 

“You annihilated it,” Ali added, kissing just behind your ear. 

It was true. Between you, Tobin, and Lindsey the Orlando defense couldn’t keep up. The three of you had scored 6 collective times (a number that would have been much higher if Ashlyn wasn’t such a good keeper). 

You pulled away from the keeper and turned so you could give Ali a kiss of her own. “Don’t sell yourself short babe, you two were the reason our lead wasn’t in the double digits,” 

They squeezed you tightly, laughing a little in your ear. Just as you were about to lean in for another kiss, you felt a little presence approaching you, and you pulled away from your girlfriends completely, kneeling so you could catch the tiny human crashing in your direction. 

“Hey ducky, you having fun with your aunts?” You asked, scooping your daughter up and blowing a raspberry under her chin. 

She squealed and wiggled excitedly in your arms. “Yeah mama, I meg Toby and scored on Sonny,” 

“You did?” You asked excitedly, bouncing Carter up and down as she nodded, puffing her little chest out. 

“Goal!!!!” She cheered, throwing her arms up in celebration, causing both you and all the women around you to burst into laughter. 

The toddler beamed in your arms, and you leaned down to blow another raspberry on her cheek.

“Can I introduce you to some people?” You asked after a few minutes, drawing Carter’s attention from where Tobin was doing juggling tricks. 

She tapped her chin thoughtfully (she reminded you of yourself so much sometimes that it was scary). “Hmm,” she hummed with a nod. 

You set her back on the ground and kneeled in front of her. She always had an easier time focusing when her feet were in the ground and this was a serious conversation to be had. 

“Remember how Mama told you about the most amazing defender and Keeper in all the land?” 

Carter nodded, her tone trying to match the serious one you were using. “Awlly and Ash,” 

“You’re so smart. They’re very excited to meet you, wanna say hi?” You bit your lip as she contemplated the question. This was a very important moment. If it didn’t go well, then that didn’t bode well for your relationship. You didn’t want to have to choose between your world and the women you had fallen for. 

Carter only took another second before she let out a very small, shy sounding “Yeah Mama,” 

You rubbed her back comfortingly, leaning down to whisper a little “Be gentle, they’re nervous,” in her ear as you stood. 

She nodded solemnly at you, before turning her attention to the backbone of the Orlando department of defense. 

The two women kneeled down to greet the toddler, who stared at them with an (adorable) appraising gaze. Mama was important to her, and she wanted to make sure that you didn’t get hurt. 

“Hellwo, I Carter,”  

Ali sent her a very indulgent smile, and gently took the hand your daughter extended her way, “Hey Carter, I’m Ali and this is Ashlyn,” 

“You pway with Mama an Toby?” Carter asked, trying to do your famous eyebrow raise. 

“Yeah we do,” Ashlyn nodded, also shaking Carter’s hand. The toddler laughed when the hand shake went on way longer than a normal one, and the shakes got very wild. 

You rolled your eyes at Ashlyn’s impish grin. She was definitely going to be the pushover. 

“You wove mama?” Carter Asked after she finally got her hand back, looking at the woman with the most serious expression she could muster. 

Ali and Ashlyn sobered very quickly, and the sound on the pitch seemed to freeze like your daughter's question had pushed the pause button on a CD player. 

Both women shuffled closer to the toddler, each one taking one of her hands.“We love her so so so much,” Ashlyn said, keeping eye contact with the girl. 

 “and if you give us the chance, we wanna love you too,” Ali added. 

Carter gave them another serious nod, before turing in your direction “Good hugs?” She asked, tilting her head to the side much like a puppy would. 

“Why don’t you go find out kiddo,” You shrugged, your dimples beginning to show. You knew your kid was cute, but watching her tuck herself into Ashlyn’s warm chest and pulling Ali to create a Carter sandwich was the most adorable thing you had ever seen. 

The women behind you awed at the heartwarming sight, and you heard several clicks indicating that they were capturing this moment. The moment where all of your loves met, and your worlds could intertwine. 

Ali and Ashlyn had been worried for no reason, but it was sweet nonetheless.