#assistant jason

[genderflu1dwh0r]

ChanDean - Boss x Assistant au

Heather is the new boss of her father's company ever since he retired, she now holds way more power than she should and is extremely rich. Jason ended up working for his father's construction company, he didn't really want to, but it was the best he could get. One day Jason was working down the street from where the Chandler headquarters was. He was on break and was smoking as he watched the guys get prepared to take the building that they were assigned down.

Heather was walking by; she was planning on going to lunch with one of her assistants when she saw Jason. She furrowed her brows, knowing that she knew him from somewhere, but couldn't figure out who he was. She walked over to him and stared at his face, remembering who he was. When it clicked, Jason was staring back, continuing to smoke his cigarette. They talk, Heather gave him her number to talk more later. She leaves to get lunch.

Later, when Jason gets off of work, he goes back to his shitty apartment and stares at the paper with Heather's number on it. He sets it on his nightstand and goes to sleep. A week goes by, and he still hasn't called, too nervous. When he's getting ready for work, someone knocks at his door. He's only wearing underwear and has his toothbrush in his mouth, but still answers the door. Heather is standing there, her face turns to disgust as she sees him. She is all dressed up with a fur coat, and Jason is just standing there all disheveled.

Eventually she explains that he hasn't called, so she called his father and found out where Jason lived. Jason raises his eyebrows but isn't surprised. He lets her in, she refuses to sit anywhere, tightly gripping her purse. Jason doesn't care, telling her that he is confused on why Heather, out of all people would come visit and spend time with him. She dismisses him and tells him that she has a job opening for him and will get paid way more than what his father pays him. Jason is skeptical but listens.

Heather tells him to think about it and leaves. Jason does in fact think about it, and after the day is over, he goes back to his apartment and calls Heather, telling her that he wants to check out the job. She tells him to come in at 8AM the next morning. 8:45AM, he strolls in, one of Heather's assistants help him into Heather's office. Heather is clearly not amused and tells him to sit down. They talk for a bit before Heather gets up and shows him around the building. She tells him that she has buildings all around America, that he could work anywhere.

Eventually he accepts the job and tells his father that he's quitting and working for The Chandler's. He and his father get into a fight, and it ended with Jason leaving the house with a bloody nose and black eye while his father was inside, drunk and angry. Jason goes back to his apartment and sleeps it off. The next day he is woken up at 6:30AM by a knock on the door. He answers in in his underwear again and is all groggy, Heather is there and tells him to get ready and that he has a big day ahead of him. She puts some bags in his hands, they're filled with new clothes to wear.

Jason groans and goes to get ready, Heather checks out his apartment and laughs when she finds weird shit, like little dinosaur figures and a Barbie with its head ripped off and a bear's head placed on it instead. Jason comes out all dressed, he tells her that he feels like a dork all dressed up and would prefer to wear a tshirt and jeans. Heather tells him that he looks fine(she's lying, she finds him hot) and that he has to do his hair. Once he's all ready, she walks out with him. They separate, him going to his motorcycle and her going to her car. She has a chauffeur, which Jason rolls his eyes at.

(I'll add more later.. maybe lol)

[demonic0angel]

Assistant Jazz AU (click for clarity)

Part 2

Where Jazz makes a deal with Jason in order to further both of their goals. They both work together, but since Jazz’s goal is more long-term, she decides to stick around Jason bc she’s bored.

Thus, she becomes Wolf, assistant and secretary to the Red Hood. She mainly works as an extra bodyguard and assistant to him, including going with him to events as a plus one. Eventually, he confesses to her and they date, but until then, all of the Red Hood’s goons just stare at their boss with thinly veiled disbelief and bafflement as he flounders after Jazz as she completely reforms his gang with ruthless efficiency and an iron fist.

(In reality, I just wanted to draw Jazz’s “hero” costume, Jason’s costume with the muzzle, and her on Jason’s lap. It’s Kinktober let me live orz

There will definitely be more of this AU)

[nelkcats]

The Medium and his assistant

Amity Park was a roller coaster, but after eliminating the GIW, talking to the Fentons, and getting some sort of alliance with the ghosts, Danny felt like he didn't have much else to do. He took Ellie's advice to travel a bit, but tried to make it a little more exciting.

Although the money he had been given could last forever (and longer with Vlad's card in his pocket), he wanted to earn his own money. So he made his trip a fun job, turning part of his vehicle into a trailer. Thus was born his career as a medium and fortune teller, traveling around the world, listening to the dead, advising people, etc.

Technically, thanks to Clockwork Danny could see the future, but he doesn't need it, or at least not always. And talking to the dead was practically his day-to-day, so he thought he had chosen well.

During one of his trips, when he passed through Gotham he found a zombie (which turned out to be a halfa!), the poor thing was lost, and wandering, so he helped him and did the most sensible thing possible: he offered him a job. Jason, who hadn't been back for a long time and his memories were scrambled, decided that he needed a vacation anyway, for his own sanity (not seeing the Joker's face was a bonus) and accepted the offer. Of course, he covered his face in case someone recognized him as the son of a millionaire, Danny approved.

Both traveled around the world, offering their services and bothering a certain Constantine who complained every time they had the same client (Danny replied that it really wasn't his fault, but the British man was still upset). A year later they returned to Gotham.

The Batfam assumed that Danny's business was a scam. But Bruce was desperate, he wanted to talk with Jason, to hear about him, even if it was a scam, so he visited them. When Danny asked who he wanted to contact, Bruce replied "Jason Todd."

Danny, who knew full well the identity of his employee, raised an eyebrow and glanced surreptitiously at his assistant, who was avoiding his gaze. He sighed before continuing his 'work', glancing at Jay from time to time.

A few days later, Dick Grayson showed up with the same request, and Danny made sure to kick Jason as soon as he left.

[ky-landfill]

Insp

[ijustthinkhesneat]

Imagine the external speculation on Each of the kids inheritance. Like trash tabloids are all gossiping about how much each kid gets when Bruce croaks meanwhile behind the scenes they are all playing a very complex game of Batnopoly, Yahtzee, connect 4, poker and capture the flag to find out who gets the Batmobile, little do they know Bruce is leaving everything to Batcow, Titus and the bats that populate the cave.

The true truth that no one knows is that everything is actually in Alfred’s name and when he dies he’s leaving it all to Clark because none of the Wayne’s can be trusted.

Very silly, very mindful, Very Knives Out

[coolcoolcoolbutwtf]

When asked why he doesn't display the same level of power as he did against Trigon, Shego Danny says the more power he brings forth, the closer he gets to being dead. It's true from a certain point of view

Shego was't surprised at the teens dumbfounded expressions. It truly filled him with such glee as their faces twisted with the donning realisation.

Ever since it got out that ''Shego used to be a hero'' the comments about him " joining the good side again" had ramped up!

'"Oh Shego join us and use your powers for the good"' or a remixed version of "'you have such power but you use it for evil"'. Danny had heard it all and it got tiring fast.

So yes Shego would enjoy the horror stricken Faces of the kidi-heros. Because they would. Not. Shut. Up. About. It!

The older heroes had eventually slowed down but not these little twerps. Was it because he held back too much? Should he start hitting them harder so they learned to concentrate on the God damn fight in front of them!?

It had worked great for him so it must be an effective solution!

(He thought he heard a face slap suspiciously sounding like Jazz's echo in the back of his mind.) A quiet swish followed by humming started up, right on que!

"Well brats I gotta go my ride is here and I don't want any of your twerpyness getting on me!" The kids were hit with whiplash by shego's words still and slight guilt.

Aww look at the little baby Heros feeling guilty. Constantly having forced Shego into annoying situations and forcing him into using his powers. How cute they are thinking about what they did.

He still wouldn't forget it and he sure as hell doesn't forgive them but they really are just kids. Isn't it practically teenagers' job to be annoying to adults anyway? Ah to be young again. But speaking about annoying.

"Oi, Shego stop standing around and hop on already!" His boss's filtered voice cracked to life in his com and had him flipping backwards in a rather Nightwing-esk maneuver (not that Nightwing existed quite yet in this dimension) and gave the kiddos a final wave goodbye before jumping on the revving motorcycle his boss drove. Robin looked even more shocked as the bike shot off.

Danny sighed slightly, apparently his boss still loved a flashy exit! The red helm should really have tipped him off about his dramatic nature or the heads in the duffle bag thing a while back. Or maybe future, that was the thing with interdimensional hopping!

Now what he really wanted to know was how much Red hood was going to pay him in compensation for helping out. Because the annoyances Shego would get for "helping" were going to cost Red hood dearly. Mark his words.

"Oh stop being pissy Shego."

"Fuck off Hood you aren't the one that will have to deal with the hero's and their savior complex constantly now." The laugh Danny got in return just cemented his hatred for his boss. :D

Wip of Shego Danny fighting his boss before he became his boss:b Boss was still fresh free from the LOA.

[zepskies]

Miss Professor

Pairing: Jason Teague x F. Reader

(Love triangle: Jason T. x Lana Lang)

Summary: Jason has to make a decision. You, or Lana Lang.

AN: Here’s the sequel to “Assistant Hottie.” Hope you enjoy!

Song Inspo: “Look at You” by Screaming Trees

Word Count: 5,200 Tags/Warnings: Angst, love triangle, hurt/comfort, fluff and a tinge of spice.~

Jason finds you in the bowels of the university library.

Out of four giant floors of books and computer labs at Central Kansas A&M (CKM), they just had to put the Writing Center in the non-proverbial basement. There you have to wear at least two layers at all times, despite the late-spring swelter outside.

Like now, when he enters the Writing Center lobby and finds you at your desk, tapping your red pen on your lip as you work on revising an essay. Jason smiles at the sight of your fuzzy red and green sweater over your jeans and ankle boots.

“You know, Christmas came and went, like, five months ago,” he teases.

You glance up at him as he steals a chair from your coworker’s desk. She’s conveniently been on break…for two hours now. Leaving you with a mildly enormous stack of essays to edit and leave feedback on.

“Yeah well, I’m running out of winterwear. It’s almost summer, for God’s sake,” you grouse. And yet, you shiver when another pass of the AC vent above your head hits your back.

Jason smiles, but he also shrugs off his jacket and drapes it around your frame. It’s lighter than what you’re wearing, but he hopes the added layer helps. You can’t help smiling up at him, though your brows end up furrowing.

“Oh, don’t do that, you’re gonna be freezing,” you protest. You try to take off the jacket, but Jason stops you by wrapping it snugly around your shoulders.

“It’s okay, I don’t plan on being here that long,” he replies.

You raise a brow. “Oh really?”

Jason grins. “You’ve got my British Lit. paper, right?”

You narrow your eyes at him, with a light grumble. “Some friendship this is. You only come to see me when you want something.”

Jason mock frowns at that accusation, but he plies you with raised brows and waggling “gimme” fingers until you relent. You reach back into your files with a sigh and hand him his ten-page essay, complete with your revisions and suggestions for the final draft.

“Here you go, freeloader,” you quip.

“Many thanks, Miss Professor,” Jason rejoins.

The nickname always manages to make your face warm a bit, no matter how you try to stamp down the butterflies in your stomach. It doesn’t help when he smiles at you like that.

His glinting green eyes soon dim, however, as he takes in the sheer amount of red marking up the pages of his essay. All 10 pages.

“Damn, woman. Was it that bad?” he asks.

“You’re actually getting better,” you say with a smile. “I’m seeing signs of improvement.”

Jason continues to flip through with a frown. “Right.”

Though when he actually starts reading your revisions, the familiar slopes of your handwriting, his disappointment begins to relent. You’ve made corrections here and there, but you’ve also written a lot of encouragements in the margins, like, “Good use of the word ‘solidarity.’”

And, “This whole paragraph perfectly explains your point. Just add a transition into the next section and you’re golden.”

Not to mention his personal favorite: correcting his typo on eggzagerate, and drawing a doodle of a fried egg above it. He doesn’t think you do that for all your customers. 

It makes him smile.

Though he looks up when he hears you yawn. You try to stifle it, but he can see clearly now that you’re tired. It’s almost 9 p.m.

“How long have you been working?” he asks.

“Since I got out of my last class at 5,” you admit. Finally, you spot your coworker coming back from her break (and she’s still on the phone, chatting away to her boyfriend).

“Have you even eaten dinner?” Jason asks.

You shake your head, with a pointed glare at your coworker. “No time. I’ve been chained to this place all night.”

The girl gives you a fake smile when she returns to her desk and grabs one of the thinnest essays from the pile. After shooting her one last narrowed look, you give Jason your full attention. He’s trying to temper his smirk.

“Come on,” he says, nudging your arm. “Let me treat you to the Central Kansas delicacy of Chicken Finger Friday.”

You laugh at that; the university food court leaves much to be desired. You still have plenty of work to do, but you’re willing to push it off until tomorrow and take him up on his offer, if it means a hot meal and spending some time with your friend. It’s been a few weeks since it’s been just the two of you, hanging out.

After grabbing your backpack and clocking out for the night, you and Jason walk together across campus. The evening air is warm. It begins to defrost you as you two venture down the sidewalk. You smile to yourself and playfully bump into his side.

Jason shoots you a grin and bumps you back, though he grabs your arm when the heel of your boot catches on the edge of the sidewalk. You both fumble a bit and laugh.

You tuck a wily strand of hair behind your ear. Part of you wants to ask what he’s doing this weekend. Maybe he’d want to go to the lake with you, hang out on the dock, or go for a swim…

But of course, that’s when his phone buzzes. He fishes it out of his pocket and his brows raise. The text is from Lana, asking him if he can come to the Talon.

I really need your help with something.

Jason lets out a breath and looks up at you apologetically.

You know that look.

“Your girlfriend?” you ask, trying not to sound too disappointed.

Jason nods. “I hate to do this to you, but we’ve both been so busy, I haven’t seen her all week.”

And this is the first time this week that Lana has reached out to him first, wanting to see him… Well, she’s also asking for a favor, but she wants to see him.

“You know, one of these days I’d love to meet this mysterious girl,” you remark, lightly shoving his arm.

Jason smiles, but inside he’s clamming up. For obvious reasons, he hasn’t told you that he’s dating Lana Lang. Though it doesn’t make it easy to keep it from you, to lie to you. Over the course of the school year, you’ve become one of his closest friends here in Smallville.

You encourage him to explore his interests and keep focused in school, and you’ve often been a listening ear whenever juggling his classes and helping to coach the Smallville High football team stress him out.

And he’s done the same for you. With your time split between being a teacher's aid at Smallville High and working in the Writing Center to make ends meet between classes, you've done your share of venting, sometimes through frustrated tears. Jason's been more than willing to provide a strong shoulder to lean on.

Now, you don’t know that dating Lana is part of his stress, but he just…can’t afford to tell you.

It doesn’t matter that Lana’s 18, and he met her months before he took this coaching job. This is a small town, and he knows how people will talk if word gets out that he’s dating a high school senior. Not to mention, he’d get very fired.

“I’m sorry,” he says to you. “This seems important.”

Again, you have to hide your disappointment when you smile at him. “It’s okay. I should probably get back to work anyway—”

“Uh-uh. No,” Jason says, grabbing your arm when you start to turn in the direction of the Writing Center. "You’re done for the night. I wanna see you marching full-speed for those dry-ass chicken tenders.”

He nods toward the campus food court, making you expel a sigh.

“If I must,” you lament.

“And you’d better not keep working on your laptop,” he warns. “If you so much as crack open that Mac, I’ll know.”

He levels a finger at you as he walks away. You roll your eyes and head to the food court, with the promise of food just beyond the glass doors. 

After a moment, you chance looking back at Jason. He catches your gaze, and he points two fingers from his eyes to your face in stern warning. 

You giggle and shake your head at him, but you keep walking toward the food court. 

Jason smirks in satisfaction. He continues on to the parking lot, and to his car.

When Jason gets to the Talon, he crosses paths with Clark, who’s just walking out. 

“Hey, man,” Jason greets, with a jovial pat on the younger man’s shoulder. Though he can’t help but wonder why the guy is here at this time of night. “Little late for a coffee fix, huh?”

“Hey, Coach T,” Clark smiles. “Could say the same about you.”

Jason blinks at that. He cards a hand through his short hair and laughs it off. “Yeah, I was in the mood for a slice of your mom’s coffee cake. Any left?”

Martha Kent supplied the Talon with its baked goods, and they were most certainly worth driving across town for. It’s a pretty good excuse, if he says so himself.

Clark nods. “Yeah, should be.”

“All right. G'night,” Jason says. Clark nods and waves goodbye before he heads to his red truck in the parking lot. 

Jason shakes his head and steps into the coffee shop, where he finds Lana alone. She’s cleaning up a large takeout bag from Gino’s, the Italian restaurant across the street. He silently takes note of it, but doesn’t yet comment when he kisses his girlfriend in greeting.

“Why’d you send up the Bat Signal on this fine Friday night?” he asks, wrapping her in his arms.

Lana smiles up at him. “Well, I’m probably going to be slammed all weekend with the shop, but I’ve got this huge speech for class on Monday and was hoping you’d help me practice.”

She pulls those doe-like hazel eyes on him, and Jason’s almost captured by them. This time, he lets out a small sigh.

“You know I’m always down to help you out. Always. But you know, we haven’t just hung out in a while now,” he points out.

Lana concedes to that with an incline of her head, but she still eases out of his arms to finish cleaning up.

“Yeah, I’ve just been really busy,” she says.

“I have too,” Jason replies. “But even with my crazy schedule, going back and forth from campus, don't I still make time for you?”

Case in point, he was willing to come out to her on the drop of a hat, late at night, and on the crunch week before his final exams. But he would be hard-pressed to remember a time when Lana went out of her way to see him.

Lana pauses, casting him a frown. "I'm trying my best, Jason. You know I'm graduating in a few weeks. Everything's ramped up to 11 this year."

Yeah, I know the feeling, Jason thinks, but after a moment, he caves with a nod, even though his gaze lingers on the Gino's bag.

“Have you eaten?” he tests. “Let me get us some takeout.”

He almost said, Let me take you out, somewhere nice. But he hadn’t been able to do that since before he got to Smallville. He’s beginning to wonder if he ever will again.

“Oh,” Lana says. Her eyes avert from his as she wipes down a table. “I already ate.”

Jason draws closer to her and dips his chin in order to catch her gaze. Eventually, she pauses and glances up at him.

“With Clark?” he asks.

Lana tightens up, just as he predicted. “Why would you say that?”

“I saw him when I came in,” Jason replies. He tilts his head at Lana, who never used to be a good liar. But ever since they had to start hiding their relationship, he’s noticed how good she also hides her thoughts and feelings around other people…maybe even to herself.

“Yeah,” she breathes. “He was here. But we were studying for finals, and we got hungry. That’s it.”

Jason shakes his head, but she grabs his hand with both of hers. He looks down at her tan, slender hands, and can’t help but be drawn back to her beautiful face.

“It’s not a big deal,” she says, as if that can dismiss the churning in his gut.

“Listen,” he says, rubbing at his face. “I know I’ve asked you this before, and I’m sorry but…do you still have feelings for him?”

“No,” she refutes, “I’m with you, Jason. How many times do I have to prove that this is what I want?”

She seems so annoyed and vehement that Jason has to believe her. He wants to, so badly.

Maybe too much.

The last straw comes just two weeks before the end of spring semester—with the coming of senior prom. Jason knows he can’t ask Lana, but she assured him that she wasn’t going. 

He has a late class that night, but afterwards, he promised to pick her up and get dinner together in Metropolis. A nice date, a long-ass way out of town, so they’re unlikely to be recognized.

On the Friday evening, just hours before a high school dance, you and Jason sit together in the one class you have together: Introduction to Mass Media. 

It only meets once a week, for three hours. Technically it’s an elective for both of you, but you’d told Jason to pick any class outside of his major that he was interested in. Anything to broaden his horizons, and you promised to join him. For some reason, he chose this one. 

He thought it would be easy. Just a study of pop. culture stuff, with a mix of social media, maybe a dash of sports, if he was lucky. He’d actually been surprised with how much he was enjoying the segments on videography and broadcast journalism. 

Right now, however, he's distracted. You can certainly tell, the way he keeps checking his phone.

“What’s wrong?” you lean over and ask in a whisper. He knows how anal Professor Jones is about cell phones in class. The man had a “contraband bucket” to collect them in, if he caught a student using one.

“Just letting my girlfriend know I’m gonna be a bit late,” Jason grumbles, though he’s looking at the screen. “Jones is droning on past the eternity mark, as usual.”

A man clears his throat above you and Jason. You both look up and meet the flat gaze of Professor Jones. He shakes the bucket in his hand with an arched brow. Already there's about three contraband phones inside.

Jason gives a wan smile. “Come on, Professor. We were supposed to be outta here 20 minutes ago anyway.”

The lines in Professor Jones’s face betrays one simple truth: he doesn’t give a shit.

“Bucket, Mr. Teague,” he says.

Jason’s lips press in irritation, but he’s forced to drop his phone into the waiting bucket. He doesn’t see two mixed text messages from his girlfriend.

You lay a comforting hand on Jason’s arm. “I’m sure she’ll understand.”

By the time Jason gets to the Talon, the lights are dark and Lana’s not home. Suspicion creeps in, making him feel a little crazy. 

He decides to get back into his car and drive down to Smallville High. There the gym is decked out to the nines in some kind of underwater theme. It reminds him of his own senior prom a couple of years ago, complete with the punch bowl and cheesy snacks. 

But soon enough, the nostalgia comes to a screeching halt.

A familiar ballad croons from the band on the stage.

"And how can I stand here with you, and not be moved by you? ...Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?"

He sees Lana on the dance floor, wearing one of the most beautiful dresses he’s ever seen. And she’s in the arms of one Clark Kent. 

Jason's never hated Lifehouse so much.

On Saturday morning, before the Talon even opens, Lana opens the door to Jason while still wearing her robe.

“Hey!” she says, with wide eyes, though she lets him in.

“You seem real surprised,” Jason notes.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s early for you on a Saturday,” Lana remarks with a short laugh. But she still leans up to kiss him. She only manages to get his cheek, since he doesn’t bend down to meet her like he usually would.

She frowns. “Is something wrong?”

Jason doesn’t answer at first. The words are stuck in his throat. He gestures for them to move away from the glass doors, where anyone can peek in. So they travel up to her bedroom and close the door.

It’s not the first time he’s been in her room, though not much has ever happened on her bed. He’s waited completely on her signals for that one. Though now, he’s actually kind of grateful that their relationship has never progressed that far. It makes what he’s about to do easier.

“Where were you last night?” he asks. He figures they’d better start there.

“I tried calling you,” he adds, when Lana doesn’t immediately offer a reply.

“Well, I didn’t hear from you. I figured you were busy with your classes, so…I went to prom by myself,” she says.

Jason sighs. “You didn’t seem all that lonely.”

Her eyes widen. “What?”

Her confusion looks so real. A perfect face, and a damn near perfect lie.

“Look, I saw you and Clark on that dance floor,” Jason finally says. “Wasn't that just the perfect Hallmark moment?”

“Jason…” Lana finally starts to break. She doesn’t want to admit what’s broken, her gaze falling to the floor.

“No, let me say this,” he says. “Lana, I really put my all into this. I did whatever I could to be with you. To love you, to protect you. But in your heart, I think somewhere down the line you decided you don’t want that to be me.”

Lana’s eyes flood with tears, but she doesn’t deny it. 

“I think it’s time to really call it quits this time,” Jason says, “for both our sakes.”

He can’t help but reach out to her. His thumb brushes her cheek. Lana’s watery gaze meets his as her lower lip wobbles. She grabs his hand.

“I’m so sorry, Jason,” she confesses.

He won’t say it’s okay, but he accepts that with a nod, and he kisses her cheek. 

It’s a goodbye that’s meant to last.

Once he’s back in the relative safety of his car, Jason lets out a deep breath. He grabs his phone from his pocket on some unspoken urge; in that moment, he needs something. Someone.

He needs you.

You answer on the third ring, sounding sleepy on your day off.

“You’d better be on fire,” you say. Jason smiles at the sound of your grumpy voice.

“Hey,” he laughs a little, though he's surprised that it comes so easily. “You doing anything right now?”

“Besides sleeping?” you toss back. “…No. Not really. My life is boring.”

“Boring sounds nice right about now,” Jason says, more seriously than he meant to. “Wanna take a drive or something?”

You hesitate, just for a moment. Then your voice greets him again.

“Let’s go.”

When Jason arrives at your house, you come out to meet him. He gets out of his car, and already he looks wrong. He looks drained of all energy.

“What’s wrong?” you ask in concern, grabbing his arm when you’re close enough. His eyes find yours.

“We broke up,” he says.

It takes your brain a second or two to compute. (You’ve just finished your first cup of coffee, after all.) But then, you’re moving to wrap your arms around his neck in the tightest, warmest hug you can give.

He holds you back for a while, and you relish in the feeling of his hands smoothing around your back and pulling you in close. His chin tucks on your shoulder, and you rub his back.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly.

He hums in response. Sometimes, what is just is.

He lets you drive him out to the lake near your house, in your beat up Volvo. This lake is your favorite place in the world, you tell him, as you two sit side-by-side on the dock. Your sneaker-clad feet dangle over the edge, next to his longer legs.

“So far,” he corrects. “There’s a whole lot of world out there.”

You smile. “Yeah, you gonna show me? Got a magic carpet tucked in your dorm somewhere?”

Jason laughs, and you’re grateful to see his smile so soon.

“Yeah, along with a dusty-ass lamp,” he says.

You smile, but you tilt your head at him. “Are you okay?”

Jason’s grin slips a little. “Yeah, I think so…is that bad?”

You bite your lip. “Depends. What was her name? I don’t think you even told me.”

Jason turns to you, and he sighs deeply. It takes him a moment, but he eventually answers while looking you in the eyes.

“Lana Lang,” he says.

The name rings a bell…and as it comes to you, it blares like a foghorn. Your eyes widen and your mouth falls open in shock.

“J-Jason…she’s a student,” you stammer. “Not like, us students. Like—”

“I know. We met before I got the coaching job,” Jason explains quickly, before you can blow up at him. 

He can see you’re freaking out, trying to contain your reaction with a hand over your mouth. But the more he explains, the more you withdraw into a simmering silence. He can tell, however, that you don’t know how to feel about it. 

“Do you regret it?” you ask.

It’s not the first thing he thought you would say, but it’s very you all the same.

“Well, being outmaneuvered by my own quarterback stings like a bitch, but I still think I’m better looking,” Jason jokes. Because that’s what he does when he’s uncomfortable.

Too bad that was the wrong answer.

You roll your eyes with a disgusted huff, and you pull yourself up onto your feet. You start to leave him there at the dock, but Jason hops up as well and grabs your hand.

“Hey, wait,” he implores. “Look, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It was just…easier.”

“Why, because you didn’t trust me?” you challenge. “Or because you felt guilty about what you were doing?”

The truth is, Jason doesn’t feel guilty. Not for his relationship.

“I was trying to protect her reputation,” he says. “I know how smalltown people think. She’d be the talk of the damn town. And for what? Because we’re two years apart?”

“And I’m smalltown, is that it? I’m sorry I’m not as evolved as you, Mr. Metropolis,” you snark. “Forgive me for being a lowly country bumpkin with some morals.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Jason says with an angry frown, throwing up his hands in frustration.

You shake your head at him and start booking it towards your car.

Jason follows. “You know you can’t leave me out here, right?”

“Just get in the car, before I change my mind!”

He obliges you, and it’s a painful ride back to your house. He really can’t believe you’re being like this. It’s the first real argument he’s ever had with you. He knew you might get upset, but he did think you’d be a little more understanding…

“Look, we met in Paris last summer,” he admits. And a hint more vulnerable, “I just…couldn’t help but fall for her.”

“I get it, Jason,” you reply. Your voice is flat. 

“Just please don’t tell anyone,” he asks. “We’re done. She’s about to graduate.”

As mad as you are at him for lying to you, you begrudgingly see his point. You can also start to understand why he didn’t tell you. 

But, regardless of how you feel, you don’t want him to lose his job. You know it’s the only way he can afford college.

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” you say, before you can reign yourself in.

Jason turns to you with a hint of a smile. “Thank you.”

It’s still awkward when you two get to your house. He turns to you, like he wants to say something that’ll most likely soften you. 

You’re not ready for that. 

So you kill the engine and get out of the car without looking at him. Jason takes the hint; he doesn’t say another word to you when he gets into his car and peels away.

The next weeks that follow are hard for Jason. As a member of the staff, he’s forced to go to Smallville High’s graduating ceremony.

He watches Clark and Lana graduate together with the rest of their friends. The two of them hug after she gets off stage, looking at one another with a moment of blushing smiles. It’s an inevitable look.

It makes Jason feel sick. He leaves as soon as he can, going back to languish in his dorm room. He lays on his bed over the covers with his hands folded over his stomach and his eyes closed.

He thinks about you. 

He can see you in his mind’s eye, with a pen balanced between your teeth and your hair falling over to brush the pages you pour over.

He sees your fuzzy green sweater. Your smile. The shade of your hair, your eyes, your laugh, your furrowed look when you’re concentrating hard on revising a sentence.

The more he sees, the more he wants to call you. To hear your voice, even if you're just going to yell at him. 

Jason sighs. He sits up in bed and has a thought that soon takes hold of his body, and has him swinging his legs over the edge of his bed and pulling his backpack closer.

He pulls out a folder for one of his classes and finds an essay you revised. His eyes scan over the encouragements you’ve left in the margins, along with the stray doodles. They still make him smile.

And it reminds him of the first note you ever gave him, which he keeps tucked in a small drawer in his desk. He tosses the folder onto his bed and goes to that drawer, where he finds your hastily written haiku.

Assistant Hottie

You flatter me, see through me

Smarter than he thinks.

You don’t know that those words have kept his head above water in times where he’s wanted to quit school.

Or even worse, in those times when he’s wanted to go to his father, tail between his legs, to ask for money and a job doing anything easy.

So now, Jason realizes that he needs to make another decision.

He gets out of bed, and he goes to see you.

Jason travels down to the basement of the CKM library, to the Writing Center, where you’re sitting at your desk as always on a Thursday night. You have a pile of essays stacked high next to you, and your forehead is wrinkled while you read a problematic passage.

The smell of coffee makes you look up first, before you realize who brought it. Your eyes widen at seeing Jason, along with his small smile and peace offering.

“Hey,” he says.

His voice washes over you, his eyes that always manage to disarm you, even now.

Despite your better judgment, you take the coffee from him and revel at its warmth. It has to be 60 degrees in this damn room (you’re one step shy of bringing your winter gloves next time).

You sip at the coffee and hum in delight at the taste of caramel and cinnamon—a combination that only your family, and Jason, would know you loved.

Your gaze flits up to his, more begrudging as you sigh.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Teague?” you ask.

Jason grins and takes your coworker’s empty chair to sit across from you.

“I’ve got a little haiku for you,” he says, handing you a folded piece of paper. You eye him in confusion, but you set down the coffee on your desk and take his second offering. You unfold it and read something that genuinely takes you by surprise.

Hey, Miss Professor

I’ve got a question for you…

Want to get dinner?

You can’t help but laugh. It’s most definitely not a haiku, but you also know that it’s his best shot. His smile is sheepish, making yours deepen. 

“So, what’s your answer?” he asks. 

You glance down at the page, then back at him. You bite your lip, and your heart clenches. Is this it? you wonder. Is he asking you out, for real? You can’t quite tell what he’s thinking. 

“What kind of dinner?” you ask.

Jason’s grin fades. “What do you mean?”

“Is this our normal kind, where we roll out like we’re Thelma and Louise?” you ask, making him snort. “Or is this the kind where I need to change out of my dirty sneakers and brush my hair?”

He shrugs; his amused grin is back. “I mean, however I get you is all right by me.”

You nearly utter another sigh, but Jason surprises you yet again—by grabbing your hand. 

“But, uh…I’d like this to be the kind of dinner where we try something new,” he says, licking his dry lips. He looks a bit uncertain, you think, hiding the fear of rejection. “Maybe you’ll let me do my Cary Grant impression and get you some flowers. Box of chocolates.”

The corner of your mouth twitches. “Chocolates?”

“Whatever it takes,” he says. His tone is joking, but he seems serious. You know him well enough by now to spot the difference.

“Whatever it takes, huh?” you ask.

Jason’s hand tightens on yours, but his eyes never leave you. He really is serious, and it makes your heart stutter and trill with warmth. It feels a lot like hope.

He leans in, his head bowing towards yours…but you lay a hand against his chest.

It stops him, until your fingers curl into his shirt.

Your gaze slowly meets his.

When he reaches for your cheek, this time you let him pull you in. 

His kiss is sudden, but it’s still a gentle test. You take in a deep breath through your nose as your eyes fall closed. You press your lips against his, answering him. His fingers slide into your hair and drag down the back of your neck. It makes you shudder and tug him even closer by his shirt. 

Jason’s solution is gathering you into his lap, where you take his face with both hands and kiss him with unfettered passion. The locked doors of your heart are swinging open, and it’s a sweet relief to be honest with each swipe of your tongue against his. 

He’s gripping your hip, his fingers pressing into your thigh, while the other hand supports your lower back and presses you flush against him. As the kiss slows, so does your hand in his hair, more soothing now than gripping. 

When your lips eventually draw apart from his, it’s with panting breaths. You stare into his eyes, as yours brim with relieved tears. You touch his cheek.

“I better not be a rebound,” you warn him. “I can’t take that, Jase.”

Jason shakes his head, holding you a fraction tighter. “No, believe me. That's the last thing you are."

You bite your lip, and he encourages you to release it with his thumb brushing across your lower lip. You've been on his mind longer than he can readily admit. Since the first day he met you.

"I know I haven't made it easy, but will you trust me on this?” he asks. "I really wanna do this right with you."

It takes you a moment to decide, but you do. You trust him.

So you nod and brush your fingers along the apple of his cheek. 

“Okay,” you concede. "Let's do this."

Jason grins. “Oh, thank God.”

You giggle softly and hide your face in his neck. His chest shakes with a chuckle as he holds you back. It feels very right to hold you, he thinks.

Just as it's a relief for you to finally be in his arms.

“Where d’you wanna go for dinner?” he asks.

You laugh, a bit giddy as you cling to him and thread your fingers in his golden hair.  

“I don’t give a damn.”

AN: Haha, I hope you liked this! ❤️ These one-shots are kind of AU, in that I don't get into the Stones of Power arc of S4 just for simplicity's sake.

I do have one more one-shot idea rolling around in my head for these two...the reader meeting Jason's infamous mother lol (Genevieve Teague, played by the fabulous Jane Seymour)!

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[noblessyousforgiacomo]

Tumblr Hall of Fame post about how daddy issues make you a people pleaser but mommy issues make you a sociopath is so Dick Grayson and Jason Todd coded.

[oocdpfics]

[manygeese]

the lost trio as magicians. abracadabra. reference under the cut

(top to bottom: Leo, Piper, Jason)

Wooooo

[genderflu1dwh0r]

ChanDean - Boss x Assistant au

Warnings: slight nsfw talk

"Steven, send Jason up." Heather said into the microphone, she sat back in her chair and put her cigarette to her lips. "Yes, Ma'am." Steven's voice came through the speaker. Heather looked out her window, watching over the city. She was at the top floor and loved it, she loved heights and feeling like she was towering over everyone. She loved how big her office was, she loved how she had couches to lay on and games to play. She was basically a kid but with big responsibilities.

Heather looked towards the door when someone knocked. "Jason is here, Ms. Chandler." He spoke. Heather blew out smoke before answering. "Let him in." She said setting her cigarette down in her ashtray. Jason walked in, he was pulling at his collar and complaining about how he hated wearing these clothes. Heather stood up, rolling her sleeves up. She was wearing a white button up with black and white pants with matching heels.

Jason sat down in the chair, sighing. Heather walked around her desk and behind the chair Jason was sitting in. She put her hands on the back of the chair and leaned down to his ear. "Stop complaining or I'll bend you over this fucking desk and make you bleed." She growled lowly, she then licked up his jaw and stood back up, going over to her golf clubs. Just like her father, she loved to golf. They had matching sets and would often go out together and golf. Heather took a putter and went over to her little golf set up.

Heather set one of the balls down on the tee and got prepared to swing. Jason liked being threatened with a good time, he stood up and walked over, taking Heather's club and smirking. "What if I want to complain?" He asked, knowing it would piss of Heather. Heather stood up straight, she had at least a few inches on him, plus with her heels she was a decent amount taller than him. She snatched her club back and hit the end of the grip into Jason's stomach, making him yelp and fall back.

Heather stood over him, pressing the clubhead against Jason's throat. "I told you what would happen, now, get on your knees and pray for forgiveness." She said taking the pressure away from his neck and stepping away. Jason loved it, he slowly got up, slightly in pain and got on his knees. He clasped his hands together and stared at Heather. Heather got in position again and swung, making the ball move across the small green pathway. The ball fell into the hole, and she looked at Jason. "Close your eyes."

[demonic0angel]

Delusion (click for clarity)

Part of this AU where Jazz is Jason’s assistant.

I was legit giggling to myself when I drew this. I think Jason should be so besotted and in love with Jazz that it’s genuinely embarrassing for everyone.

He hasn’t even seen her face yet 😔

Inspired by the Lego Movie scene where Emmett is being completely delusional about Wyldstyle lmaooo

Image description below:

Panel 1 has Jazz covered up in a helmet and leather bodysuit. She’s looking at a piece of paper and reading off of it.

Jazz: So on the agenda today, we have a new shipment coming in tonight…

Panel 2 has Jason looking at her in his Red Hood costume, hand on his chin as he nods. Jazz is still talking off screen.

Jason: Mhm.

Jazz: … and at 1, we have a meeting with…

Panel 3, 4, 5 can be summarized as Jazz, now seen from Jason’s POV, is acting cute and sexy. The background is pink and there are hearts and flowers around her. This is only Jason’s delusions.

Jazz: *as per Jason’s daydreaming* Blah, blah, blah… Proper name. Place name. Logistics stuff…

Panel 6 has Jason, immersed in his fantasies, blushing as he nods even more.

Jason: … mhmm…

Panel 7 has everyone in chibi form, with people surrounding Jazz and Jason at a table, clearly still in a meeting, all staring at each other in various degrees of awkwardness, confusion, and disgust. Jazz looks exasperated while still speaking and Jason is still having fantasies, hearts all around him.

There are two captions: 1) the boss, completely distracted (while pointing to Jason) and 2) The subordinates, aware of his daze, but can’t stop him (while pointing to Jazz and the other people).

Jazz: *sweating* We also have a meeting with…

[nelkcats]

Hood assistant

Next

Contrary to popular belief, Red Hood wasn't actually a bad boss, Danny could attest to that. After all, thanks to a guy named Bill, he had gotten a job with the Crime Lord, and although he initially feared being assigned to kill or do "shady" activities, his boss actually reassigned him to his assistant.

So yes, Danny now worked directly under Hood's personal assistant, a very attractive man by the name of Jason, but the other goons warned him that it was very likely that he was dating Hood, with the amount of time they spent together so he didn't have to much hope with his crush.

In summary: Danny fell in love with Jason, but he thinks that Jason is dating Red Hood because of comments from the goons and he doesn't want to be "the third wheel" or for Jason to cheat on the crime lord with him, on the other hand Red Hood started flirting with him too and it's getting incredibly frustrating how unfaithful this couple is.

Meanwhile, Jason just wishes the guy would understand his signals, maybe the flowers aren't enough, he doesn't realize he's sending signals like Red Hood too.

[puppiesandnightlock]

Link: Why Bruce Should Not Have The Title of World's Greatest Detective Anymore, a presentation by Tim Drake

Summary: Bruce didn't know the Super Sons were dating somehow, and Tim compiled a list of evidence of a bunch of moment here he should have caught on, but did not.

Featuring Confused and Tired Dad Bruce, PowerPoint master Tim, Traumatized Dick, and an embarrassed Damian.

Super Sons Week Bonus Day: Family and Legacy (this one won by a landslide on the tumblr poll)

In Bruce’s defense, he was a father of six officially and about twelve emotionally. He had long ago resigned his title of World’s Greatest Detective to Tim, so honestly, could you blame him for not noticing that his youngest son had had company around more often? And come on, it was Jonathan Samuel Kent, the two were practically glued to each other even before recent developments. 

How recent, he wasn't sure. 

And now he had to sit through a folder Tim had given him, evidence compiled in an attempt to clear things up in his head. He plugged in the USB that fell out of it and it opened to a powerpoint.

Of course.

Angels and Demons, or otherwise known as B, how the fuck did you not know?

A presentation by Tim Drake 

Evidence #1: “Wrestling.”

The slide played a clip of surveillance feed from inside of the manor. Damian had Jon pinned to the ground, both panting and flushed. 

“What’s going on here?” Bruce turned the doorknob, poking his head through the door.

Damian scrambled off of the taller boy, schooling his features to a mask of indifference. 

Jon made no such efforts, choosing to starfish across the carpeted floor, a blank look on his face as he stared at the ceiling.

“Nothing, Father, we decided to make use of our time and spar. Jonathan needs practice.” 

Bruce eyed them suspiciously, pausing to take in the scene. Damian’s usual gel slicked hair was ruffled, and Jon’s curls were splayed out on the floor, some in his face.

Then again, his hair was always a bit unruly.

Their faces were flushed, and they had been breathing heavily when he came in.

The quick once over seemingly revealed nothing to him, although one could clearly see the still blown pupils of an expressionless Jon, and both boys’ kiss-bitten lips.

“Next time, spar in the cave, that’s what it's there for.” He walked out, shutting the door behind him.

The video feed played for a bit longer, Damian putting his face in his hands, a very un-Damian-like thing to do, and groaning.

“I cannot believe that actually worked.”

Tim had left a little note on the side of the video after it stopped playing. You have six kids, and one of them is one Richard John Grayson, how on earth did you fall for that?

Evidence #2: Dates

This opened to a video from a phone, someone walking into Damian’s room and filming his fussing with his appearance in the mirror.

“Whatcha doin’, baby bat?” Tim’s voice came from the other side of the camera.

“Fixing my hair, what does it look like, Drake?”

“Whoa, whoa, chill. I’m just curious, I haven't seen you put this much interest into your appearance since you had picture day.”

Damian scowled, more out of admittance that he was right then spite.

“Say what you will, Timothy.” He hesitated. “How do I look?”

“You’ll blow his socks off, Dames.” Tim said softly, a hand reaching out from behind the phone to straighten his jacket.

Damian inhaled deeply and carefully walked down the stairs. The doorbell rang, and as if filming a reality show, Tim followed dutifully behind. Jon stood, looking as nervous as he was, holding a small bunch of wild flowers that he immediately thrust into Damian’s face. 

“Oh my god-” was whispered from Tim as the camera zoomed in on Damian, a pink flush becoming slightly visible.

“I’m so sending this to Dick.”

Damian handed off the flowers to the nearest person, but not before threading a few into Jon’s curls.

“Where are you going?” Bruce came out from the dining room, files in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

Tim switched the camera over to him, zooming in on his tired appearance, then zooming out so he could see everyone.

“The movies, s-sir.” Jon stuttered.

Burce raised an eyebrow. “Jon, you’ve known me for years, you can drop the formalities.”

An undignified squeak came from the boy and Damian sighed, albeit affectionately.

“We will be going, Father.”

“Have a good time.” He waved them off, disappearing into the labyrinth that is Wayne Manor.

“That’s it?” Tim was heard screeching off screen. “He gave ME hell, gave my dates HELL, broke out the KRYPTONITE when Kon even LOOKED at me, and all you get is HAVE A GOOD TIME?”

“Sucks to suck.” Damian jeered, taking Jon by the hand and dragging him out the door.

Followed by it was several screenshots from a chat titled “Rockin’ Robins”, all of them sharing stories until someone pointed out that maybe Bruce didn't even know it was a date, which was accurate.

This note said There were flowers. Flowers.

Evidence #3: They were in A FUCKING CLOSET.

Bruce spat his coffee out at that, massaging his temples. This was getting to be way too much. He did not at all need to know about what had happened in the closet, especially because he remembered this particular one and frankly? It was embarrassing that he didn’t catch on then.

Bruce was walking down the hallway when he suddenly heard noises coming from the third floor janitor's closet.

Tentatively, he opened the door. The last thing he expected was for Jon and Damian to stumble out of it, school uniforms slightly unbuttoned and very rumpled. Jon’s glasses were crooked, and Damian’s tie was missing.

“F-Father!” Damian stuttered, attempting to smooth out his ruffled appearance. Jon silently handed him his tie, both boys flushing furiously under Bruce’s rather confused gaze.

“What were you doing in there? Aren’t you supposed to be on that field trip? Your class is still on the first floor.” 

“W-We were…uh-” Jon fidgeted with the buttons on his shirt, nudging Damian for help.

Suddenly, his gaze caught on something reflecting green in his son’s back pocket. His eyes narrowed and his face set into a firm expression.

“We will be talking about this at home. I’m disappointed in both of you, I thought we’d gone over this.” 

Damian’s face paled, before morphing into one of confusion. “What exactly are you talking about, Father?”

“Sneaking out for hero work.”

Both teens inwardly sobbed in relief as Damian said stiffly, “Yes, Father.”and Jon with a quaking “Sorry, Uncle Bruce.”

Satisfied in his parenting skills, Bruce continued towards his office.

If he watched the video Tim had put in from the surveillance feed of Wayne Enterprises, he could almost guarantee they would have both been sporting some rather suspicious brusings. 

Bruce stood up, he was going to need a drink to get through the rest of this. 

Unbeknownst to him, most of his kids were perched in the living room, wheezing at their father’s reactions.

Damian was rather displeased at all that was being shown, and his face was flushed red.

“Looks like baby bat isn’t so innocent.” Jason cackled.

“My precious sweet little boy, this is OBSCENE, they are BABIES!”

“Richard, I am nineteen years old.”

“BABIES.”

Tim closed the laptop as Bruce left the cave, leaning back. “It was sad, honestly, to compile all this information and realize Bruce didn't get any of it. I mean, how long has it been?”

“Three years.” Damian muttered.

“Three fucking years. It’s sad to see him go.” Duke said solemnly.

There was a moment of silence as they mourned the loss of their once perceptive father.

Then promptly burst into laughter.

@super-sons-week-2023

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Hi! I hope you’re well!

Only if you are in the mood- can we get anything you can cook up for assistant verse? Anything you want! I love your writing! 💗

"Mr. Wayne, your 3 o'clock is here," you announce.

"Thank you Miss Y/N, please send them in."

"Yes, Mr. Wayne."

You show them in and Lex looked around, "You make your girlfriend address you as-"

"Work is work," Bruce said shrugging, smiling. "She's good at her job. It would be stupid to replace her just because I'm dating her."

"Will that be all, Mr. Wayne?" you ask.

"Coffee Lex?" Bruce asked. "Something else?"

"Coffee would be fine, thank you," he said.

"Coffee, please, Miss Y/N. And quickly."

"Yes, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce watched your face and the tiny twitch in your eyebrow. Telling you quickly was probably a bit much. You understood and respected a good powerplay.

But. That didn't mean he wouldn't be paying for it later. And it was probably going to be expensive. It was worth every penny though to watch Lex's eyebrows shoot up. What Lex thought he would find was known only to Lex. Probably Bruce off his game and acting cutesy.

Clark's identity was on the line though. And he had ground work to lay. Whatever Pricey mani-pedi or make up you bought on your company card was well worth it.

Especially when you brought back coffee, clacking along the marble floor efficiently. Lex's eyes tracked you everywhere you went. Bruce was willing to bet you'd have a job offer in your inbox by 9am tomorrow.

[zepskies]

Assistant Hottie

Pairing: Jason Teague x F. Reader (implied Jason T. x Lana Lang)

Summary: Jason Teague, Assistant Football Coach, meets you in the faculty break lounge at Smallville High. He tries to kick you out, thinking you’re a student. Technically, you are. Turns out, you both go to the same university. 

AN: So I know it’s about 20 years late, but I’ve been wanting to write some Jason Teague for a while now. There’s a very dated reference to iPods (remember this show was circa early 2000s).

Word Count: 2,600 Tags/Warnings: Implied love triangle (quadrangle?), fluff, tinge of angst, and a meet cute.

“Hey, Coach T!”

Jason turns his head, shooting Clark Kent a smile that’s just a little bit forced. He slows down in the busy hallway so the younger man can catch up.

Clark’s friends, Chloe Sullivan and Lana Lang keep walking, though the brunette glances his way. Her hazel eyes catch his.

But Jason focuses on Clark, who’s coming at him with all six feet and three inches of farm boy earnestness.

Jason has City Boy Charm in his arsenal.

“What’s up, man?”

Clark smiles. “Real quick, just wanted to ask you about the drills we’re running today…”

Eighth period is about to start, meaning just another hour until school ends, and another day of practice begins on the football field. Clark takes all five minutes between classes to ask his questions about how he can better move the ball, his throwing technique, how to better communicate on plays with the rest of the guys.

As always, Jason gives Clark the best advice he has to offer. Even a few months into this job, he’s still feeling a bit of imposter syndrome. He’s only a couple of years older than the guys he’s coaching, and Clark is looking at him like he’s got all the answers.

Newsflash, champ. I don’t. Jason smiles though. 

Because Clark is something else. He’s a starting quarterback of a game he’s never played before in his life. Head Coach Quigley thought it was steroids at first, but Jason had a gut feeling about the guy.

“He’s not a cheater,” he’d told Quigley. The other man had scoffed, rubbing his chin.

“Okay, Teague. If you think so,” he said. “…Make him piss in a cup anyway.”

Since then, Clark hasn’t given Jason a reason to doubt him, at least on the field.

No, his reasons for still being wary of Clark are more…personal.

“All right, we’ll workshop the rest later on the field,” Jason says, as the starting bell rings. “You’re gonna be late for class.”

“Okay, see ya later.” Clark nods and holds up a hand in goodbye. To tell the truth, Jason is a little relieved to see him go.

Instead of heading to his office, he makes a pitstop at the faculty break lounge for a cup of coffee. He could use a little pick-me-up, even if it is from a watery K-cup.

When he pushes open the door, he’s greeted by the familiar smell of stale roasted hazelnut and microwaved fish. Along with the wall-to-wall countertop and refrigerator down the end, there’s a small round table fitted with just three chairs.

Uh oh, he thinks.

You’re sitting there with a pair of earbuds in, nodding to your music while you make notes with a red pen. The contents of your messenger bag are half-strewn across the table, displaying a couple of notebooks and binders, different colored highlighters, pens, and a post-it pad.

Your back is facing him, so he has to walk around the table to get your attention. He hesitates, before he taps your shoulder. He’s never had to do this before, and he’s actually a bit nervous.

“Hey there,” he says. His lips quirk when you jolt a little. You stare up at him with wide eyes and the top of your pen resting against your lower lip. 

“Uh…” You remove your ear buds and hit pause on your iPod.

“Did you get lost on the way to study hall, or you just here for the coffee?” Jason gestures to the Keurig machine on the counter. “Hate to break it to you, but that stuff’s not exactly quality joe.”

You blinked at him. “What? Um…I mean yeah, the coffee’s ass. But it is free, I guess.”

Jason tries to reign in his smile. He cards a hand through his blonde hair and taps his free hand on the table.

“Uh, are you ditching class or something?” he asks. “If it’s history, I get it. Snooze fest.”

He makes a flatlining motion with his hand. Your brows knit together in confusion…but then you brighten.

“Oh, I’m not a student,” you laugh. “But good on you for trying to lay down the law, Coach Teague.”

Now it’s Jason’s turn to be confused. “How did you know—”

You point with your red pen, over to the yellow patch emblazoned on his red polo that says: Crows Football and Assistant Coach.

“Pretty sure you’re the one the cheerleaders are calling Assistant Hottie,” you say. Your gaze is wry and a hint playful.

He lets himself smile, albeit with some embarrassment. He points at you.

“And you’re…”

“Part-time teacher’s aid,” you reply. Your hands make a frame around the stack of papers in front of you, that Jason now realizes you’re grading.

Great. His face warms a bit.

“Sorry,” he chuckles, and points to the coffee maker. “Let me just mind my business.”

He doesn’t know it, but you subtly watch him with a small smile while he goes about said business. The Keurig eventually spits out more roasted hazelnut into his Styrofoam cup.

With his prize in hand, he means to leave you in peace to head for his office, but your voice stops him.

“You can sit if you want. I need a break anyway.”

Jason can admit, at least to himself, that he’s curious. (About you.) He goes over to the table and sits down across from you. His eyes unconsciously dart over the splayed contents of your bag, and you don’t miss it.

“Sorry,” you say, as you try to reign in the mess and corral things back into your bag. “I’m kind of an organized chaos kind of girl.”

“No worries. I dabble in that philosophy myself,” he says with a grin. “I’m Jason, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” you reply, giving him your name in return.

You like his smile. His long fingers are wrapped around the steaming cup. Meanwhile, the afternoon sun is pouring in from the windows behind him. It shines golden on his hair and broad shoulders, and makes his green eyes look warm.

Those eyes glance down and focus on a familiar badge sticking out of your bag. His brows furrow.

“No way. You go to Kansas A&M?” he asks. “So do I.”

You blink at him. “What, you’re still in college?”

He laughs and leans back in his chair, blowing out a breath.

“Okay, wow! A bit rude," he says. "Just how old do you think I am?”

You bite your lip in embarrassment.

“Second thought, don’t answer that,” he quips.

“I’m sorry,” you say, through a bit of laughter. “I guess we’re both reading each other wrong today.”

Jason shakes his head and crosses his arms.

“No, no. It’s fine,” he says airily. “Lest I be any more presumptuous, can I ask what year you’re in? Major?”

You concede with a nod, but you’re still smiling too hard.

“Secondary Education. Junior year,” you say. Jason’s brows raise with his grin still in place.

“Okay, a future teacher on our hands.” He leans forward. “As it turns out, I’m actually a sophomore.”

A year below you. You bury your reddened face in your hands, though a giggle still bubbles up.

He doesn’t let you stew in your misery for long though.

“Eh, it’s okay. Don’t feel too bad,” he says. You hear the smile in his voice, and you peek out at him from between your fingers. “I’m technically a year behind. Transferred from another school so I could take this job.”

Once again, your eyes widen as your hands fall away from your face.

“Oh, yeah? I assume you play football, but I’ve never seen you on the team…”

Jason’s smile turns playfully cocky.

“I don’t play anymore, but I’ll have you know, I was on track for the NFL.”

Yeah, for about a minute, comes a dull reminder in his brain.

You rest your chin in your hand as you meet his smile. “Okay. You definitely have the face of a guy who almost went pro.”

Your voice lowers at the end there, impersonating every “dude bro” you’ve ever met who thought he could throw a ball across a field.

“I’m serious.” Jason laughs, but then his eyes dim a bit. “I played for Metropolis U. Tore my rotator cuff, and uh…that’s it. Scrubbed. Had to start over.”

You dim along with him. “That sucks ass. I’m sorry.”

He snorts, almost spilling his coffee. “You’ve certainly got a way with words.”

“But you feel better for me calling you old, don’t you?” Your pen taps on your lip, and his eyes are drawn to the gesture.

He also notices your eyes, the shape of your face, the shade of your hair, the black Fleetwood Mac shirt (with a ripped V hinting at cleavage). It doesn’t exactly scream T.A., but you’re pretty.

Beautiful, really.

He tries not to notice that too much.

“Maybe a little,” he allows. He smiles behind a sip of his drink. It’s getting cold, as he forgets to actually drink it.

“My parents sent me to college to be a lawyer,” you confess. It perks his interest with raised brows. “Like my mom, and my uncle, and his father before him, and so on.”

Jason’s smile is back. You consider that a small triumph.

“I sat in one class. Intro to Business Law.” You shudder at the memory. “Jason, I wanted to bludgeon myself with the textbook. And it wouldn’t have taken long. That thing was the size of a Dostoyevsky novel.”

Jason laughs, even though he doesn’t know who Dostoyevsky is. It does unearth a distant memory of his 12th grade English class (he barely passed that one).

“So, I decided to disappoint them,” you say ruefully.

That, he understands all too well. He raises a finger at you. “Hey, a teacher’s respectable. But I happen to be an expert at disappointed parents, so you’re in good company.”

You smile, small but genuine. Jason counts that as a win.

“What’s your major now?” you ask.

“Sports medicine,” he replies, but you both hear the lack of enthusiasm in his voice.

Your head tilts, and your eyes soften. Not with pity, he thinks. Maybe with understanding.

“You could find something else you’re actually passionate about,” you say.

Jason bites the inside of his lip, sets his cup back on the table.

“Sure,” he says.

His lackluster answer is telling, and he can’t even think of a joke to inject into this moment to lighten the mood. (He even disappoints himself there.)

“Look, I get it,” you say at last. “You probably ate, slept, breathed that game. Like that’s what you were put on this earth to do. And I know you must’ve been good. Because the fact that this school hired you while you’re still in college is amazing.”

He meets your gaze steadily. 

Your smile brightens. “But I’m sure football’s not all there is to you.” 

That touches him. Warms him even, though he’s reluctant to let it. 

“We just met, and you’re already sure about that?” he remarks. 

You shrug, gesturing at his cup. “Well, I’m sure that you probably have crappy taste in coffee. I’m broke as hell, and even I don’t drink from a Keurig.” 

Jason laughs. If you only knew that he’d spent his summer in Paris, sampling some of the best restaurants and cafés in the world without even looking at the bill…until his dad cut him off. Needless to say, he’s had to refine his tastes.

“What kind of teacher do you want to be?” he asks, instead of getting to all that.

Your brow arches. “You mean what subject?”

“Yeah. What, like physics or something?”

“Ew. God, no!” 

“What’s wrong with physics?”

“Too much math. I’m shit at that shit,” you reply. 

“Okay. No to the sciences.” He laughs and rubs his chin, squinting at you. “Let me see if I can guess.”

You gesture widely. Go ahead.

“Not economics, I’m thinking. Too close to business,” he teases.

“Business law,” you correct. “But you’re actually right about that.”

“Hmm, history?”

“It's interesting, but it’s also rigged,” you say. “Only the victors in society get to dictate what gets remembered. Just look at Columbus Day. What a sham that is.”

Jason allows that with a nod and a smile. “All right, what then? Algebra? Geometry?”

“That’s math, remember?” you reply, with furrowed brows. “Besides, I don’t like mixing letters and numbers. It’s not sanitary.” 

He chortles at that. You’re a little ridiculous, but he kind of likes that.

“Okay, how about English?” he says.

Your gaze flicks up to his. A small, growing smile. 

“What makes you say that?” you ask. 

“Process of elimination?” he says. His smile curves. He saw your little reaction. “But I don’t know. I get the feeling you’re a hell of a lot smarter than me. The way you’re talking, all quick as a whip… Like I said, you’ve got a way with words.”

You laugh a little. “Oh, do I?” 

Jason’s brows raise expectantly as he leans back in his seat again.

Well, then? that move says. “Am I right?”

Your head tilts, and you answer the unspoken challenge in his eyes. You raise a finger and pull out one of your notebooks and you take up your red pen. You tap the top of it on your lip, in what seems to be your habit, and you begin to write on a clean piece of paper.

Your hand moves with purpose on each word. Jason watches you in curiosity. Though when you realize he’s staring hard at your paper, your free hand forms a wall against his probing eyes.

“No cheating,” you reproach.

He scoffs, but he waits for you to finish.

Finally, you tear off the piece of notebook paper, fold it up neatly, and you slide it over to him.

“What, are we passing notes now?” Jason can’t help but joke, even as he opens the little gift. “I thought we weren’t in class, Professor.”

You shake your head. “Just read it.”

He starts to, and his smile grows. He glances back up at you. “You wrote me a poem?”

“Just a little haiku.” You gesture at him to keep reading while you start to pack up your things. The alarm bell just tolled for the end of class, and you have another job to get to.

Jason’s eyes lower back down to the looping scrawl of your handwriting. His smile deepens into a smirk.

Assistant Hottie

You flatter me, see through me

Smarter than he thinks.

He stares at your words for a while. He rereads the last line a few times.

By the time he looks back up, your bag is packed and you’re standing, ready to go. You smile at him.

“See you on campus,” you say. “I also work at the Writing Center, if you ever need a spruce up on your essays.”

“Can I get you to rewrite my history paper?” he teases.

“Make an appointment,” you counter, still with that smile. “And we’ll see.”

You leave the faculty lounge, and Jason feels a suspicious jolt in his heart.

Something he immediately feels guilty about. 

Because the real reason he came back to Kansas is to continue his summer fling with Lana Lang, a senior at Smallville High. 

Well, to him, it’s not a fling. He used to think it was as close to love as he’s ever been. Recently though, he’s been getting the sense that she’s still hung up on her not quite ex, Clark Kent.

That’s not even the most complicated part.

She’s 18, and Jason’s barely 20, but their relationship could still one day be the reason he loses his job…

And maybe, any chance he might have of being friends with someone like you.

AN: Lol no shade to my sciences, history, and math people! Just creating a character. Let me know what you think! 😉

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