#i guess i’ll just add this to my notes and let my doc know

[jasntodds]

Petrichor [4]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader (little bit of fwb)

Words: 20,748

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, smut (wrap it before ya tap it!), a little bit of angst, mentions of scars, blood, bruises, reader gets a suit but the fit of it isn’t described just the colors (yes, it’s like Steph’s suit because it’s my favorite of the bats)

Summary: ❝Pylades: I’ll take care of you. Orestes: It’s rotten work. Pylades: Not to me. Not if it’s you.❞

Gotham is home, not just for Jason but for you, too. And now that you’re both finally back home, together, you’re ready to see where this next chapter brings the two of you. He’s your best friend and you’re his. And you both might want a little something more with being back home, the place you both feel most comfortable. Surely, nothing could possibly go wrong now.

A/N: So, I combined chapters 4 and 5 and this was over 25k words. Google Docs was lagging so hard I couldn’t finish editing on mobile. It was an ordeal lmao I’m so sorry. I hope you guys like it!! If you want context from book 1, let me know and I’ll tell you!! You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary​ and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

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Over the next week, you and Jason continue your new dynamic. It’s fun for the both of you and it feels safe. Neither of you feel too much pressure with each other and you’re both really happy. It always starts with your game and then one of you makes the move. That’s usually who wins and it’s fun. 

Now, you’re sitting in the kitchen on one of the laptops reading through a Reddit thread about the Titans. Steam is practically coming out of you ears as Jason walks in.

“You good?” Jason chuckles, seeing you look like you want to chuck the laptop out a window.

“Look at this!” You yell, pointing at the laptop screen that shows a Reddit that’s discussing the vigilante names of the Titans.

“What the fuck am I looking at?” Jason chuckles, his hand resting on the back of your chair and the other hand on the counter as he leans in.

“Acid Fingers!” You fume, pointing dramatically at the screen.

Jason bursts into a fit of laughter. “That you?” He glances at you and he knows this is going to be fun.

“I guess!” You yell, your hands flying above your head.

Jason shakes his head, looking through more of the names and they just keep more ridiculous. He’s taking a mental note of every name to call you the next time you make fun of him being Robin.

“Melty Hands?” Jason continues to chuckle, this is ridiculous.

“Glow girl!” You get more dramatic. “Who the fuck is Freddy Freeman and how can I kill him?!”

Jason looks at you and you’re so mad but he swears you’re endearing. “I think it’s great.” Jason lets his laugh subside.

You snap your neck at him, eyes wide, steam nearly coming out of your ears. “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN YOU THINK IT’S GREAT?!?!?! YOU GOT BEASTBOY, SUPERBOY, NIGHTWING, STARFIRE, AND FUCKING ACID FINGERS?!?!?!?!!? WHAT THE FUCK.”

He thinks it’s funny how annoyed you are by it. It’s not even a big deal given you’re not actually a Titan at this current point in time and he has a vivid memory of you saying you don’t even like vigilante names from last week. And the only thing he wants to do is kiss the scowl off your face.

“Acid Fingers is a great one.” Jason tilts his head back, unable to control his laughing.

“I’m gonna hunt this little shit down. Acid Fingers.” You let out a scoff.

“I like it.” Jason says through a laugh. “I’m calling you that, now.”

“Don't you fucking dare, Jason Todd!”

Jason’s voice drops, his face coming closer to yours as he goes to taunt you. “What are you gonna do about it, Acid Fingers?”

You look back at him and the annoyance of the whole thing almost melts away because he looks at you like that, eyes darting to your lips and soft and nothing else even matters. But then he would win.

“You’re named after a fucking bird. And you don’t even look like a robin! You look more like a parrot.” 

Jason’s brows furrow but he keeps his stance close to you. “A parrot?” Jason chortles.

“Red, green, black, yellow. Parrot. Robins are not that colorful.” You snark and Jason can see you trying desperately not to let a smirk come to your lips.

“Still better than, acid fingers. Could have called you Sulfar, Nitric, Bombardier, Scorpian!” Jason says enthusiastically. “Cobra could work, I guess, but that doesn’t fit, I don’t think.” He nods his head just once, his brows are just slightly knitted together.

You blink at him. “I’m actually gonna kill you.” Your words are softer this time, holding no venom with the hollow threat.

“You can try, Acid Fingers.”

“Jason Todd, so fucking help me.” You let out a groan and you knows he will never let this go.

“What’re you gonna do about it, babe?”

“You’re such a brat.” You state softly.

Jason’s laugh bellows through the kitchen as he leans up with the laugh. Bruce peaks in to see what the yelling is about but he just sees Jason laughing hysterically, happier than Bruce has ever seen him before. You look like you’re about to actually commit mass murder but Bruce catches the hint of smile on your face as you watch Jason laugh. Bruce smiles to himself before walking off and leaving the two of you to yourselves.

“I’m gonna tell this little shit--” You start, turning back to the laptop.

“Okay,” Jason cuts you off, yanking your laptop away from you and closing it. “He’s probably like twelve.” Jason laughs. “And you don’t even like the name thing so, Acid Fingers, get a grip.”

“It’s so stupid.” You whine before it turns into a laugh. “It’s so dumb!”

“Hey, I’m a bird and Dick still fucking chose Nightwing, kept the bird thing going. All of the bat stuff is called bat-something.” Jason chortles and he’s got a devious smirk.

“It’s all so dumb.” You get tears from laughing.

“I think Dick actually named most of the stuff. He named the batcomputer.” Jason explains.

“OH, but I call you guys Batsons and I don’t even get a laugh.” You roll your eyes.

“You called us Batsons?”

“Yeah! Are you not the sons of Batman?”

“I guess.” Jason mocks you.

“Shut the fuck up, Jaybird.” You groan, tilting your head back.

Jason can’t stop the laugh that escapes his mouth with the nickname. “Better than shithead, brat, and Acid Fingers.” Jason gives you a wild grin and all you can do is groan. “Come on, get up.” Jason offers you his free hand while you reach for the laptop. “No, enough internet for you today, fucking nerd. I want you to meet someone today.”

“You have friends?” You quip and Jason’s jaw drops as he narrows his eyes at you. “And don’t say me or Gar.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Jason laughs. “I have more friends than you do!” You go to open your mouth but Jason goes first. “Don’t say me or Gar.”

“Don’t say me or Gar.” You mutter under your breath, mocking him. “Okay, Krypto.”

“Krypto is a dog, he doesn’t fucking count!” Jason’s eyes widen and that’s something he really likes about you. Considering Krypto as a friend.

“I’m telling him you said that. You’re gonna hurt his feelings, you’re a monster!” You yell dramatically, placing your hand over your heart.

“You're so dramatic!” Jason doesn’t remember a time he laughed this much with anyone.

“You wear a cape and put black eye shadow around your entire eye socket.” You deadpan, blinking at him.

“You were a cape and put black eye shadow around your entire eye socket.” Jason makes a face, mocking you as he mutters under his breath. You let out a laugh and you adore him. “Come on, Acid Fingers.”

“See, dramatic.” You point a finger at him, a cocky smile on your lips.

There are bubbles exploding through his veins as you look at him with big eyes and that smile that could set the world on fire. He doesn’t know what that feeling is but he wants to chase it as fast and as long as he can.

“Come on, seriously. I think you’ll like her.”

“Her?” You raise a brow at him and you hate the way you find your stomach twist at the thought. You’re his friend, too and look where you are right now.

“Jealous?” Jason quips and maybe he's hoping you will be.

You almost say yes but if you’re both just messing around, that’s not very fair. But, he’s taunting you again and he always does that. You spend nearly all your time together so you take another route.

“Should I be?” You quip with confidence and you’re so sure that he’s yours even if your stomach fills with the warmth of green at the mention of a friend that’s a girl.

Jason shrugs because it’s the easiest answer in the world. “Nope.”

“Fine.” You take his hand in yours, getting to your feet. “Where we going?”

“For coffee in the city. Trust me, I think you’ll like her and you need more friends.”

“Aw, but this is so fun.” You scrunch your nose. “I’m kind of an asshole.”

“Have you met me?” Jason gestures to himself with the arm holding the laptop. “She won’t care. If she can tolerate my shit, she can tolerate yours.” Jason rests the laptop on the counter, you going to grab it but Jason yanks you back, pulling you against him. “Seriously?”

“No.” You shake your head, getting a grin before sliding your free hand up to his neck. “Knew you’d do that.” You pull him into you and kiss him deeply. You can feel Jason relax under your touch as you nip at his bottom, Jason groaning against you. When you pull away, his smile is soft and you’ve got that grin that makes Jason’s head spin. “See, I can plan ahead.”

“Alright.” Jason’s voice is breathless as he recovers. “Fuck off.”

“Taking the bike?”

“Always.” Jason chuckles. “Come on.” Jason pulls you along with him, his hand tangled with yours. “We’ll be back.” Jason peaks into the living room, giving Bruce a nod.

“Bye, Bruce!” You smile softly at him.

“Be careful,” Bruce states as the two of you head off.

"Okay, trust me, I think you'll like her." Jason beams, hands in the pockets of his pants as you walk the short distance to the door of a local coffee shop.

He's been friends with Molly for almost two years. Similar to you, Molly doesn't really take his shit but she lets him do his thing, she lets him be. She doesn't know everything but she's always been a good friend to him. Molly was the first person Jason even really considered a close friend. And introducing you to Molly, sure, is so you can have another friend because he believes wholeheartedly you'll get along. But, it's also another introduction to things that are his. Into his world. He doesn't have many friends, but he has Molly.

"Dunno, last girl I tried to be friends with, I punched her in the face." You chortle, watching as Jason grabs the handle of the door.

"Aren't you two good now?" He shakes his head in confusion,

"Yeah," You laugh and you can feel the nerves trickling into your throat. Meeting new people isn't always the most comfortable thing in the world. "I'm just saying though, that happened."

"Well, don't punch this one in the face, alright? She's cool, I swear." Jason assures you. "She also doesn't know about the whole Robin and Batman and Titans shit so don't say shit about that." Jason warns quietly, whispering in your ear before he opens the door.

"Yeah, figured that." You nod softly.

Jason holds the door open for you as you walk inside and he follows right behind you. You look around the coffee shop as Jason joins you at your side and then your eyes land on someone familiar sitting at a table alone near the windows. Your eyes widen as your stomach drops because it's Gotham sure but Gotham is a big enough city. Hell, you and Jason did have some overlap being homeless and you never crossed paths. But, this still seems so bizarre and you find it hard to believe.

The girl looks up from her phone, spotting Jason first and offers him a wide smile. But, then her eyes land on you beside him and her eyes go wide, the smile falling. Jason glances between the two of you, growing more confused by the second.

"Molly?" You nearly yell as you ignore Jason beside you.

“Y/n?” Molly gets up and starts the walk over to the both of you.

You meet Molly in the middle, your steps slow and you can't believe it's Molly. Your heart thunders in your ears as your eyes start to water. Molly pulls you into a hug as you meet in the middle and it's a piece home back in place for you. A part of you thought, maybe, you’d never see her again. Maybe you'd make the effort to never be seen again because that would easier than explaining everything but Molly hugs you and that would have been a bad decision.

"You know each other?" Jason questions as the two of you pull away.

"You know Jason?!" You and Molly question at the same time, looking to the boy who looks more confused than he has ever looked in his life.

"You first." You say.

"One of the shelters. My mom died not long after you took off. How about you?" Molly asks as she glances between the two of you, silently putting a few pieces together.

"Uhhh..." You look to Jason, realizing that explaining your story to someone you actually know makes the whole lying thing a little more difficult. Molly knows your tells. "It's a long story but San Francisco. He got Bruce to let me stay with them."

"Well, okay." Molly laughs, her eyes landing on you. "I've missed you." Molly's eyes grow teary.

You nod, the feeling in your chest growing heavy. "Me too. I'm....I'm so sorry about your mom. I-I should--"

"No, no, it's okay. You were processing yourself, it's okay. I tried to find you."

The guilt comes back, gnawing at your bones because you actively chose to be alone. It was your decision and you never had to leave Molly. Maybe had you just stuck it out, maybe you could have stayed. Her mom was like a second mom and maybe you and Molly could have worked something out. Then Molly wouldn't have been alone. You should have known. Social media is a thing.

"And you found Jason instead." You glance to him. "I am so sorry." You laugh.

"Fuck you." Jason groans but it turns into more of a laugh. "So, this is the friend you talked about in San Francisco?" Jason asks.

"Yeah." You nod.

"And she’s the friend that ran away?" Jason pieces everything together and he doesn't know how he didn't figure that out.

"Are you surprised?" Molly quips, looking back at you.

Jason lets out a laugh but his attention is only on you. "No, she does run."

"So do you." Your eyes widen as you snap your attention to Jason.

"Well, I got us a table." Molly gestures back to her spot.

The three of you make your way to Molly's table. Jason and you sit side by side while Molly sits across from you. It does not go unnoticed the way Jason pulled out your chair and the way you watched him until he sat down, almost subconsciously.

Molly raises a brow at the two of you. "Are you two...like?"

Both of you look like deer in headlights with the question. That question was a lot easier to answer a week ago but today it feels a little more complicated. Despite your agreement to keep this whole friends with benefits thing between the two of you, you both do not want to say no. But, you aren't together and you are friends so saying anything other than no, would be a lie.

"No." Jason lets out a breath, and he hates the bitter taste of the word. "She's just using me for a roof." Jason finds himself able to quip and he intentionally keeps his attention on Molly.

It stings, just a little but not because it's not true. But because you want to explain what you are to Molly. You want to brag about him.

"You literally offered. I was gonna just live on the streets." You quip back, holding your head high.

"Well, I wasn't gonna let you." Jason scoffs.

"No, we're friends. I just like to fuck with him." You look back to Molly and Molly swears there's something there. But, she brushes it off because she hasn't seen you in a long time and maybe that's all it is.

"Oh, so that hasn't changed." Molly laughs softly.

Molly and you get talking, catching up. You mostly ask about Molly to avoid talking about yourself. But, Molly has always been the mom friend. The caretaker of the two of you. You’ve never been one to want to talk about yourself, but you’re quieter than normal. You were living in San Francisco. There's a story there and you seem happy yet you aren't saying much. Maybe you’ve changed more than Molly thinks you have but it seems weird.

"Okay, that's enough about me. Tell me about you." Molly takes a sip of her coffee and you nearly stiffen in your seat. "What happened?"

Your voice sticks in the back of your throat and Jason actively sees your eyes go distant. Talking about the stuff with him is easy, he didn't know you before. There's no worry of disappointing him. None of this was your fault, but a part of you thinks telling Molly, will make Molly disappointed. Gar reminded you of Molly. Too kind for the world. Gives that look when something bad happens that you hate so much. And you tug down the sleeves of your hoodie. Jason rests a hand on your knee under the table, you looking back at him as if it snaps you out of your haunting thoughts. He offers you a grin and then a subtle shrug.

"Uh..." You shake your head. "I was, uh, I-I was living with this guy, foster care, and he moved us to San Francisco." You nod your head, trying to find a way to lie. "Uh, he was kind of down and out. He had something wrong with him." You roll your eyes, knowing that's an easy way to put it and then you come up with the lie. "He wasn't in any place to, uh, to care for anyone. I guess, so he called this guy he knew which was Dick and that's how I ended up meeting Jason. Dick already took him in so, ya know, that's kind of it, I guess."

Molly nods her head and she always knows when you’re lying. You have a bad poker face. And Jason can see Molly wanting to ask more questions, so he interjects, squeezing your knee before placing his hand on the table.

"Yeah, Dick wasn't so bad. If foster parents or shit got overwhelmed or financial shit came up, he'd offer a place. Wasn't all bad." Jason shakes his head and you swear he's the best person you’ve ever met. He's also a better liar.

Molly's brows furrow and she can't tell when Jason lies. He's better at it. "So, Bruce sent you to live with him and then you happened to get sent there, too?"

"Yeah, Dick was adopted by Bruce." Jason states. "So, kind of fit. Dick picked her up like a month later."

"Yeah, he just brought me back and Jason has been up my ass ever since." You send him a smirk before offering him a thankful nod and a nudge with your knee.

"He get you into trouble, too?" Molly asks, a teasing smile coming to her face.

"I didn't get you into that much trouble." Jason defends with a laugh.

"How many times were we chased by the cops?" Molly quips.

"Oh, there's a story there, share." You beam.

"He was teaching me how to get the hubcaps off cars." Molly's eyes widen slightly as if to be taunting Jason.

"Fucking hubcaps." You grit your teeth as you let out a sigh.

Jason lets out a booming laugh. "And she didn't get fucking caught, did you, Molly?"

"You got caught robbing cars?" Molly asks.

"Look, I tripped and the pavement was wet, okay? It's the city's fault!" You laugh.

"The city's fault," Molly repeats with the shake of her head.

"And hey, she got me into trouble." Jason lets out a huff and you glare at him. "You told me to turn Dick blue! Or that time we were eavesdropping but I was doing it to make fun of you and Rachel was giving me a death glare for fucking two days when she caught us. That time you got me to try and sneak out after Dick enforced a curfew just so we could go to a midnight premiere of a movie!" Jason shrugs his arm over the back of his chair as he faces you.

You beam as you laugh because getting him in trouble with Dick is one of your favorite pastimes. He makes it so easy. "Okay and what about the Nerf war you started and Dick nailed all of us later that night? Or that time you said it would be funny to change all of the passcodes to fucking 42069 or when it was your idea to bookmark the weirdest out-of-context shit we could think of on all the shared electronics? And turning Dick blue, was technically your idea, I just told you to do it."

"What...what did you bookmark?" Molly asks hesitantly.

Jason gains a smirk, snickering it himself. "Use your imagination."

"It was not porn." You assure her. "We just wanted Dick to have some serious questions and boy did he."

"See, it was fun." Jason defends his stance.

"You ever do that to Bruce?" You questions.

"Oh, I did bookmark porn." Jason cackles while Molly groans and you let out a scoff.

"Of course you did." Molly nods her head.

The conversation continues, Jason and you bouncing back and forth with stories, almost all of them about harassing Dick. But you both tell stories about Gar and Rachel, too. Movie nights and video games. Molly is attentive and the entire time, she grows more confused about your dynamic. Molly's known Jason long enough now and she deems them fairly close but she's never seen him like this before. Not with anyone. And Molly remembers how you were and this is new, too. She isn't going to badger either of you but she definitely takes notice in how Jason's hand keeps dodging under the table every so often and you look at him every single time.

"Here." Molly hands over her phone over to you. "Put in your number."

You take the phone with gentle hands, typing away and then Molly gets a glimpse at the fading ligature scars as your sleeves fall down. Molly looks directly at Jason and he just shakes his head quickly, silently pleading with her not to bring it up. You're having a good time. If Molly brings it up, Jason knows you will shut down as you fumble for another lie. He doesn't want this exchange to go that way. You're long-lost friends and you will tell her in your own time but now is clearly not when you want to discuss any of it. And Molly accepts the plea.

"Here.” You smile softly, handing the phone back to Molly.

"I’ll text you." Molly nods softly and she swallows her questions.

"Well, we should probably head out. Bruce has a thing for us later." Jason clears his throat, standing from his seat.

You look at your phone and know it's because Jason will want to get a sparring session in before he goes on patrol. "Forgot about that." You stand with Jason while Molly follows suit.

The two of you hug quickly, saying your goodbyes before Jason and you head for the door.

He didn't know Molly was your friend. You went through your social media and archived those posts before Jason followed you. It was easier that way, you told yourself. It's why you also soft-blocked her because while you wanted to reach out, the idea of doing so and her knowing you were alive somewhere was terrifying. You were terrified she'd be mad, never forgive you for it. That's not Molly but it was scary anyway. So, Jason didn't know. But, you find yourself eternally grateful anyway. And you think he's the only one who would have noticed your apprehension about talking.

Jason and you get to the bike. Jason gets on first while you stand off to the side. Jason is ready to go but you’re still watching him, your helmet on your hip. You’re looking at him and sometimes, you give him this stare where Jason thinks you might be able to see through him. Like, maybe you can see every thought that passes through his head. It almost makes him want to push. Just almost because he can never decipher exactly what the look means.

"What? Not getting on?" Jason asks, securing his helmet on his head.

"Thank you." You let out a breath. "You didn't have to cover for me."

Jason shrugs his shoulders and he knows the look isn't one of thanks because you don't get it every time he does something for you. That's not it either. "'Know you don't like talking about that shit. And you clearly didn't want to."

He wishes he had someone that would cover for him because sometimes, giving the same damn spiel about his mom and dad and uncle just gets a little tiring. That's why he always handles it nonchalantly. Not having to air out dirty laundry and baggage is a privilege and Jason thinks you should have that privilege, even if it's just for today.

"Yeah, but thanks. I don't think anyone would have been as quick as you were about it."

Jason nods his head. "Hey, look, I'm just glad you got your friend back." He'll always cover for you if you want him to.

"Yeah, now I have you, Gar, Molly, and Krypto." Your smile is so bright Jason thinks it could light up all of Gotham.

"He's still a dog." Jason quips back.

"He's still the bestest boy out of all of you." You hold your head up high, popping your helmet on your head.

"If you fucking call me the bestest boy, I will stop fucking talking to you."

"Awwww, you seem the type to have a praise kink though." You quip, getting on the back as Jason lets out a scoff, his words nearly lodging in his throat.

"Not according to my notes from last night." Jason chuckles. "That'd be you." He turns his head to look back at you and he's thankful for the helmet hiding the burning of his cheeks.

You slide your face shield down. "Oh, so you're taking notes?"

Jason nearly chokes on his own laugh. "Fuck off. You ready?"

"I guess." You mock him, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist.

Back at Wayne Manor, the two of you change into athletic wear and meet in the training room. You spar as per usual. Jason beats you every time. But you’re getting better. Every time you spar, Jason finds himself impressed because you pick up a lot on what he does and then mimic it. It's not helping you in sparring him, but he's completely confident it will help you in any real fight with anyone else. It's smart.

After your showers, Jason starts food for the both of them. You help as much as Jason will let you. This is his element and you find it endearing. You watch him and listen when he tells the story of how Alfred taught him. He's so airy about it, enthusiastic, and a little sad. He didn't know Alfred very long before he died but he clearly meant a lot to Jason. And you think you could listen to him all night if he'll keep talking.

Once dinner is done, you, Jason, and Bruce eat together. You and Jason mostly talk about meeting up with Molly and Jason learning from Alfred because he decided to bake cookies at four in the morning and woke him up. It's actually the first time you’re seeing Bruce in this light and for the first time, you kind of understand Jason's view of him. Just kind of. He doesn't seem so bad.

After dinner, you and Jason do the dishes. Jason washes while you dry. Jason glances over to you every so often and some of this almost makes him feel uneasy. It's easy with you and it feels normal but easy and normal aren't things he normally gets to experience. He's a vigilante superhero. That's not normal or easy but this feels that way with you. Cooking dinner, doing the dishes. He wonders if this will always be like this. Just him and you doing the dishes before patrol. And he gets this small hint of a smile at the thought of it because he almost has a feeling of security in thinking about the future with you.

And then you snap him from his thoughts, picking up your leg and bending your knee to kick him in the butt. Your laugh reverberates against the walls and Jason's heart skips at the sound. And he has to laugh with you, splashing the soapy water at you.

"Fuck you." Jason chortles, his nose scrunching.

"Time and place, Jay." You beam up at him and Jason gains his signature smirk, licking his lips.

"Got time before patrol." Jason states.

"Don't wanna wear you out." You quip as Jason hands you the last plate.

"Like to see you try, babe.” Jason wiggles his brows while your cheeks start to burn. “Hey," Jason shakes his head. "You wanna see if you can come out with us tonight?" Jason asks.

He's been wanting to ask all week. You’ve seemed to be enjoying your break away from being a vigilante and Jason doesn't really understand that part of you. But you did say you'd want to get back out there. He figures maybe tonight could be the night.

"Why? You want me to come?" You flash him a grin as he dries his hands and tosses the towel to the side.

Jason looks up with his eyes, a smirk dancing over his lips. "Maybe."

You shake your head, resting the dry plate to the side as you turn around, leaning your back against the counter. "Maybe another time, bring it up to Bruce." You smirk at him and you are wanting to get back out there. It's only been a few weeks but you miss it. That night with Jason, last week was so fun, sure, Bruce will be there. But it's something and you get can back to feeling useful if Bruce will let you.

"Yeah?" Jason's heart jumps to his throat and wants to reach and grab your waist.

"Yeah, kicking ass with you is fun." You give him a wild smile and he thinks he's going to combust.

"Alright, I'll ask." Jason nods his head and you get the sight a sheepish but accomplished smile on his lips. He's just so damn cute. "Wanna check out the Batcave before we have to get ready?"

"Uh, yeah." You state quickly. "Finally."

Jason takes your hand in his and leads you to the grandfather clock in the living room. Jason changes the time on the clock making the grandfather clock slide across the floor, leading into a stone hallway. You find that to be a weird point of access but it is hidden and kind of cool. You'll give Bruce that.

On the walk through the cave, going deeper under the house, Jason gives you a rundown of the rules. No joyrides in the Batmobile, don't tell anyone or show anyone. Simple rules that you already figured but Jason was told to make sure to go over them even though Jason knows Bruce will later anyway.

"This is it." Jason stretches his arms out as you enter the Batcave, passing by some tech and a hallway where you can see the Batmobile sitting.

It really is a cave. You aren't sure exactly what you expected, but you didn't think the cave thing was literal. And yet. Here you are, standing in a massive cave under Wayne Manor. There are things from the Riddler, Scarecrow, Mr. Freeze, and several other of Gotham's most notorious almost on display throughout the cave. You spot a dinosaur off to the side and you almost ask. You almost ask what the fuck but decide it's probably better you don't know why Bruce has a T-rex in the Batcave.

"It's literally a cave under his house." You state in awe as you reach one of the display cases that holds the Robin suit.

"Yeah." Jason chuckles, looking to his shoes and back to you. "Bats and caves go hand in hand."

"I guess." You laugh softly as you eye the Robin suit. "Your suit always like this?"

"Yeah." Jason nods his head. "Only comes out when we're out or when I'm traveling. Bruce's in another case hidden away." Jason explains.

"Interesting." You nod your head. It's weird seeing it on display but now you get the display room back at the tower. It was a Bruce thing. "And the batcomputer?" You ask, turning around to see a giant computer sitting in the middle of the room.

"Yeah, that's where a lot of it goes down. Researching, tracking those freaks down." Jason boasts and he does love this gig.

You think he's cute when he talks about it. His entire face lights up every single time. It means the entire world to him. And you wonder why, if it's more than just him wanting to be helpful and wanting to feel useful. But, you decide maybe she won't ask.

"This is so sick," You beam back at him. "Batman whatever, but this shit is cool." You’re amazed, looking around. You never thought you'd be in the actual Batcave at any point in your life.

"Right?" Jason agrees, leaning his lower back against the desk under the computer screens.

You walk up to him and stand right in front of him, Jason eying you carefully. It's as if every day, he shows you something new and you like him that much more. You see parts of him no one else is ever allowed to and you’re seeing the Batcave which might be Bruce's but it's Jason's, too. And you like that this is how it is. You like where you are and how you are. You like him, all of him. But you look at him with a satisfied and happy grin as you look around the Batcave and the dangers of it all settle into the marrow of your bones.

You all lost Donna. You know already. But seeing the Batcave is another reminder of what he does as Robin. No powers. Just human doing his best out there to help people. And that part scares you. Worried he won't come home one day. So, you close the distance between you and swear you won't ever tell him that.

You smirk, instead, Jason's eyes darting you up and down. "What's up?" Jason nods his head, his hands still gripping the desk under him.

You shrug, cupping his face before you press your lips to his. It sucks the breath right out of him and he doesn't miss a beat, bringing his hands to your hips and yanking you as close to him as possible. Your mouths intertwine into one and Jason lives for this. It's the not talking shit that you do. It’s the way you can kiss him now and know that's it.

You kiss and then sometimes more happens, or sometimes this is all it is. And that works for him because he's allowed to like you from this distance. He's allowed to let his heart and his blood adjust to the idea of it. To the idea of trusting another person like this. It allows him time to be careful with himself and with you. He can be sure you won't hurt each other like this. And he loves the way your mouth moves with his.

You pull away, your hands lightly gliding over his shoulders. "Don't do anything fucking stupid tonight, Jay." There's a flicker of worry that crosses your eyes, for just a split second and Jason can see it.

Jason squeezes your hips, a sign of reassurance. "Of course not." Jason chuckles. "Got a plan."

"Mhm." You hum. "Always got a plan."

"Always, babe." Jason furrows his brows, letting a smirk come to his lips. "Don't worry so much.".

You shrug a shoulder. "Someone has to."

Jason laughs softly, squeezing your hips again. "I'll be fine." Jason moves his hand to your chin moving your face closer to his again. "I got it." His voice goes a little graveled before he kisses you again.

Jason and Bruce get ready to leave not long after Jason and you come back from the Batcave. This leaves you alone in the Manor again. You don't mind it much, but it gives you a little bit more space to think and you were never a huge fan of thinking.

Your mind goes back to the tower that night it was attacked. And you wonder what would happen if someone figured out Bruce was Batman and then attacked the manor. What if it happens when they're not home? What if it's people like CADMUS? Where there's a lot of them and they're strong and you’re outnumbered? What if they want metahumans? The panic starts to set in so you go to your room and lock the door, grabbing a few of your knives.

You place one of the switchblades under your pillow, making sure it's locked before doing so. And then you place another in both of your nightstands, making sure there's always one around. Then you hide one on top of the fireplace in the middle of the room, just in case. When you’re done, you sit down with a knife in hand and pull out your phone.

You call Gar who, naturally answers after only a few rings. You talk every day still so you calling didn't send up any red flags. You kick off the conversation by asking how things are going and what he's up to. Gar asks the same back and you just say you’re kind of freaked yourself out a little and you’re trying to be honest about it. You know you’re just being paranoid but you’re freaked out anyway. So, Gar offers to stay on the phone with you until the Titans have to leave.

You keep in touch with the Titans regularly. Dick and Kory check in with you every so often to make sure everything is going okay. It's kind of nice actually. Being across the entire country and still having them on your side. You didn't really expect it but it is nice and you appreciate it. And talking with Gar is helping a little. So, when Gar says he has to go, you finds yourself getting up and grabbing your scrapbooking things before sitting back on the bed and turning on a movie.

It's after three by the time Jason and Bruce get home. You can hear them come in so you get up to unlock and up open your door, assuming Jason will find his way to you once he's changed and showered.

It's less than fifteen later when Jason appears in your doorway. Jason gets a look at you sitting cross-legged on your bed, your scrapbook stuff scattered about your entire bed and a knife sitting just off to the side. His brow quirks at it but he thinks maybe you needed it for something. And he goes back to thinking about you being beautiful and content like this. In your element with a movie on, in pajamas. And he can't help but smile softly.

"Hey." Jason says, keeping his stance. But his voice is a little groggy and he hates the way it sounds.

"How'd it go?" You ask, barely glancing at him to not seem too eager to see him.

But there's silence that follows. Seeing you, it brought him a sense of relief and comfort. A stark contrast to what he's actually feeling right about now. Patrol did not go well. And he can't lie because you'll look over at him fully eventually and call his bluff. So, instead, he hangs his head and lets the silence swallow him hole.

You look over, not liking the silence and your entire face falls at the sight of him You quickly get up from the bed and close the distance between you. It's hard. You've been injured together and you see him with bruises all the time, but it's hard. He's in pain, taking hits and getting hurt. And it hurts to see him beat up and feeling beat up. At least most nights when he comes home with a bruise, he's got that cocky grin and some story about kicking someone's ass. But, that's not the look he's giving you right now and it hurts.

"What the hell happend?" You ask, looking over his face, your hand lightly coming up to cup his jaw.

There's a light red bruise hugging his opposite jaw, a purple bruise starting right under his eye, and, blood is still dripping down the side of his face and his lip. There's a cut on his neck and Bruce was there. How did he even manage to get hurt?

Jason shrugs, a dullness in his usually vibrant eyes. "Did not go to plan." He looks exhausted.

You know he hasn't been sleeping much but this is bad. He looks defeated and you don't understand how he's managing to get so beat up when Bruce is supposed to be beside him. It doesn't make any sense.

"Fucks sake, Jay." You shake your head. "Come on." You reach down for his hand and drag him to the bathroom that sits between your rooms.

Jason takes a seat on the counter directing you to one of the cabinets that has all of the first aid supplies.

Jason's hands are shaking as he tries to calm down, resting them in his lap as he waits. A part of him doesn't even want your help right now. He wants to fight this. Fight everything and everyone around him, it should have been fine tonight. He's done this a million times but then he gets so fucking lost in his head, he loses it. It's not fair. And he's terrified Bruce is gonna catch on and take Robin away. How is he supposed to be Robin if he can't fight crime without getting hurt?

"Are you okay?" You ask, grabbing an alcohol pad to start cleaning the cut on his forehead.

"I'm fine." Jason grits his teeth.

"What happened?" You clean up the blood softly before moving up the cut, Jason barely even flinching with the sting.

"Just some fucking bullshit." The worst part is, he doesn't even know what actually happened. He just knows he paused again and all he can feel through his entire bloodstream is shame.

"That's descriptive," You state, glancing to his face and searching for any sign of anything other than exhaustion but you come up empty.

"It doesn't fucking matter, I fucked up again." Jason's scoff is bitter while you grab another alcohol pad and start cleaning the cut on his neck. Jason hisses in return, scrunching his nose.

"Did you?" You ask, looking to his eyes and then back to the cut.

"Clearly."

"Just because you got hurt doesn't mean you fucked up, Jay." You keep your voice level and calm, knowing this side of him all too well.

"Bruce said I did." Jason mutters and you pull away, tossing the alcohol pad in the trash.

"What do you mean?" Your brows furrow as you grab a gauze pad, lightly holding it to his head to stop the bleeding.

"Didn't listen, went off on this guy before Bruce was ready."

"Okay, so what happened?" You press.

You don't get it. Why would he do that? He's capable but why wouldn't he just listen to Bruce? It's not like this is new to either of them. It doesn't make any sense.

"Doesn't fucking matter." His voice is snippy but defeated and you get a glimpse at his shaky hands.

"Jay, hey, look, I'm worried about you, okay?" You eye him carefully deciding not to ask why he would do that. He's beating himself enough without you badgering him about his decision-making. "Your hands are still shaking." You offer a subtle nod, placing your free hand on top of his.

"Just an adrenaline dump." Jason brushes it off. He doesn't need you disappointed and worrying too much.

"Are you sure?" You aren't buying it. His hands shook like this after Deathstroke.

"Yeah, I'm fucking fine, alright? It's just bullshit, should have had him and I don't know. I don't know what happened."

It's not you. It'll never be you that's the problem but he can't stand the way he can't do anything anymore without being paralyzed with fear. And he hates how he can feel the burning in the back of his eyes because it's like he's losing his ability to be good at the one thing he always felt good enough for. Robin. And who he is if he can't do that anymore? And he’s just so damn mad at himself.

You nod softly. "Okay, well, if you're not, you can tell me. I won't tell Bruce." You try your best to reason with him.

You’re worried. And when he looks like this, every part of you wants to fight the entire universe for him. All you want is to make it all go away for him. And you just want him to be okay again.

Jason thinks about telling you. You won't judge him or be mad like Bruce. You'll nod and tell him it's not his fault. But he can't do that to you because he knows you worry about him. You’ve never kissed him before patrol before. He's not that dense.

"I'm fine, I don't know what happened, really." Jason urges and he gains a smile, placing his hand over yours that's holding the gauze. "Don't worry so fucking much."

"I'm always gonna worry about you, Jay," You roll your eyes and grab the butterfly stitches. And you pause for a second, sucking in a breath and decide to bite down your question. But Jason can see it picking at you as you go to place the stitches.

"What?" Jason questions, looking up at you.

You shake your head and you want to ask him if he's ever thought about taking a break to take care of himself but you think maybe he'll take it the wrong way right now. He's beating himself up enough and asking that now is going to make it worse. But, you help but can't worry about him and there's something off. You can see it across his face.

"I want to ask you something but I think you're gonna take it the wrong way and push me away." You state, keeping your stare on the cut.

He's looking up at you, watching as his heart stops in his chest. He doesn't want to push you away but if it's a question you’re worried about, he knows he's not going to like it. Maybe he will push. And that's not very fair to you.

"I won't." Jason states, letting a breath fall harshly into the air.

"Promise? Because I don't mean anything by it." You tread lightly and you know him. You’re going to ask and he's going to get mad.

"Okay." Jason’s voice is flat.

You place the final stitch before you make eye contact with him and place your hand over his in his lap. They're cold and Jason's hands are never cold.

"Have....have you thought...about taking a break from Robin?"

Jason feels his stomach fall a hundred stories. His heart stutters and everything feels cold. How could you possibly ask him that? Just because a break works for you, doesn't mean it'll work for him. You know how much Robin means to him and you’re asking him anyway. How can you ask that of him?

"You don't want me to be Robin?!" Jason barks, his brows pulling into a harsh line and you knew he'd take it the wrong way.

"No." You shake your head. "That's not what I'm saying. I'm just--"

"What?! Bruce thought I needed a fucking break!" Jason pulls his hands from yours and you take a step back. "Dick wouldn't fucking let me and look where that lead us! Taking a fucking break doesn't do fucking shit!"

"Hey, no, that's not what I'm saying, Jay. They forced a break onto you!" You yell back. "I mean you, have you thought about taking a break for you? On your own terms. Not for them. Fuck them. You know damn well I am on your side 100% of the time."

"But you're asking! You don't think I'm good enough for--"

"Shut up." You cut him off. "Don't put that shit on me because I didn't say anything. I asked you a question. Don't try and read between lines that aren't there. I am asking you because I am worried and I know you don't like it but that's just too damn bad, Jay. You ARE good enough. I'm taking a break and what? Do you think I'm not good enough for it?"

Jason pauses. "No...you are." Jason scoffs. "But I didn't fucking ask you to!"

"I know! And I'm not asking you to." You shake your head. "I don't even know if I think you need a break, but if I did, I still would never ask you to take a break. It's not my place to ask that of you. I--" You feel your heart skip and you are terrified of losing him. That's what this whole thing boils down to. You can't lose him. "I just..."

"What?" Jason asks but this time, he lacks some of the venom, getting the sense something's going on.

"I...I just..." You stutter because you have so much to say and none of the words will come out. They stick to your vocal cords as if it's a lifeline to everything you’ve come to adore over the last few months. "You....you go out every night with Bruce and...." The lump grows in your throat as your brows furrow and Jason feels the guilt seep into his blood. Maybe your question wasn't about him. "I don't know." You shake your head. "You're human, ya know? No powers and...I know that, obviously. Deathstroke and shit but uh...I don't know."

"What?" Jason pushes and there's a fear that creeps into his voice.

You almost tell him you’re worried about him not coming home. You almost tell him that if he goes out one night and doesn't come home, you'd lose it entirely. You almost tell him he's it for you. But, none of those words make their way to the surface because what you two are is fun and what you are isn't too pressured and what you are allows you both to exist in a simple bubble. What you are allows you both a safe distance from pain.

Jason thinks this is gonna be it. This is gonna be where you finally say the words and it changes everything. He's not ready to commit to it. It still scares the ever-living shit out of him and he also knows that turning you down again would be miserable. To go back to being just friends? Nothing else? That is agonizing. So, he sits nearly paralyzed, waiting to see where this going.

"I'm just worried about you, Jay." You stick to your usual form of concern and Jason can't figure out why his heart just fell into the pit of his stomach.

Jason lets out a breath that’s almost painful. He needs a way to reassure you that he’s fine. But, he swears that’s going to be harder than it should be. You see through every piece of bullshit he’s thrown at you. But, he has to try anyway because Jason has to believe he’ll be fine and that he’s just a little off. It’ll all be fine in the end. He just needs a little more time.

"Don't worry so much." Jason states and extends his arm out for you. You close the distance between you, standing between his legs. "I'm fine, alright? You don't have shit to worry about. I'm just a little off my game. It's not a thing."

You rest your forehead against his and Jason lets out a relieved breath. "I, um...." You pause for a second. "Just really care about you. Not sure what I would do if I lost you, ya know?"

He has never had anyone so afraid of losing him before. It's foreign. He doesn't know how to process it or what to do with it. He can't stop being a vigilante and deep down, he knows you would never ask him to stop and he doesn't even really believe you want him to. But, you make valid points and he also knows that if it were you coming like he does, he'd be worried, too.

Jason pulls away, cupping your face with is hands. "You're not gonna lose me, alright?" Jason gets a cheeky grin. "I'm fine."

He wants to push and run and flee. He wants to get the hell away from this conversation. It's the exposure of being a little vulnerable. Before, he could get used to it but now you both have that added layer of benefits and you’re saying you’re terrified of him dying and he feels so exposed.

Sun exposure can lead to skin cancer. Smoke exposure can lead to lung cancer, COPD, and smoke inhalation, all of which are deadly. Exposure to elements while being unprepared is also deadly. Exposure is deadly and he feels that fear knocking and pounding at the back of his head and against his rib cage. 

And yet he finds himself wondering how someone who also hates being so exposed, just like him, is finding it in yourself to expose that part of you. You don't stutter much around him anymore but you just did, a lot, which means you were nervous. Exposed but you did it anyway for him and he doesn't fucking get it. It might as well be rocket science at this point.

And if he weren't so damn terrified of exposure and commitment and everything around him, he'd tell you he's afraid of losing you, too.

So, instead of running or pushing like he so desperately wants to do, he rests his forehead back against yours while your eyes close. Your thumbs run over his thighs and you fall into a silence as if knowing there should be more said in this conversation. But neither one of you are willing to say it.

Jason's heart is beating against his ribs and he thinks his heart is directly beating in search for yours. Maybe it's always been beating for a place to call home and it longs for yours because you’re the closest thing to home he's ever felt. And he wishes he could just tell you that.

But where words fail, actions can speak.

He pulls away, and lifts your chin, kissing your lips gently and softly. He can feel you smile against him and it brings him a sense of ease. The night still weighs heavy on his chest and in his stomach but you kiss him back, just as gently, and it makes the night seem a little easier to swallow. The way you kiss him, makes it a little easier for him to swallow the words he wishes he could say.

"What was that for?" You ask softly because he's never kissed you like that before.

"Thanks for giving a shit about me." Jason lets out a breath.

You let out a laugh, your nose scrunching. "Always." You suck in a breath and you want to understand every part of him. Jason isn’t all that hard to figure out but there are some things you realize you’ve never asked. And all you ever want to do is to be there for him and understand him, just as he does for you. "Can I ask you something?" You ask, pulling away to finish tending to the cut on his neck.

"Sure." Jason tilts his head so you can have better access to the cut.

"Why does Robin mean so much to you?" You glance to him, seeing his brows pull together in a harsh line. "I'm just wondering. I never asked before."

Jason lets out a breath. "I get to help people." Jason states. "Get to kickass with Batman every night, it's the sickest gig in the world." Jason chortles and his laugh makes your heart warm.

"That it? Get to kick some ass helping people?" You ask but the corner of your mouth is tugged up.

"I'm good at it." Jason states as you finishes placing the gauze pad.

His entire life, he's never felt good enough but he's always had this heart of gold. He's always just wanted to help and be helpful. That's it. And Robin lets him do that in such a big way. He doesn't even have the right words to describe it and a part of him doesn't even want to because he thinks it might sound lame out loud. But, he can see you offering him a soft smile.

"Yeah, you are the better Robin." You laugh softly.

"Yeah, thanks." Jason chuckles softly and he plays a big game but it's hard filling in Dick's shoes sometimes. "Just feel fucking important I guess. Like what I do matters."

You pause, your brows furrowing and you’re making it your mission to always make sure he feels important. You place your hands on his thighs while Jason's hands come to your hips. "I am not Robin but, uh, you're important to me, too, ya know? Even without Robin."

Heat rises to Jason's cheeks and he never really knows what to say when you say something like that. "Thanks." He clears his throat because he's worried this might go to a talk of sorts with the comment and he doesn't want it to go there. It can't go there. "What were you working on?"

"Scrapbook." You state and you decide to let him switch the conversation.

"What's it about?"

"It's a secret," You tease him, looking back at him before you grab a wet rag and start cleaning the cut on his lip.

"Come on," Jason groans, smirking under your touch. "Can't even tell me?"

"Nope." You pop the p and your mouth is tugged into a grin.

"Wow, thought there were no secrets between us." The sarcasm drips from his words.

You pull away and grin at him. "Oh, that are plenty of secrets, Jason Todd."

"Oh yeah, like what?" Jason's voice drops and he knows what you’re doing.

"They wouldn't be secrets if I told you." Your eyes widen at him.

He wants to hear all of your secrets. All the good, the bad, and the ugly. Jason holds many secrets close to his chest and you do, too but he wants to know yours. He'd be willing to sit and tell you more of his if you can do the same. You’re the only one he's ever felt that way with. He wants to know every detail.

"Tell me one." His voice goes soft, catching you off guard.

You rest the rag in the sink, placing your hands back on his thighs. "Then you have to tell me one." Your eyes narrow slightly, a smirk dancing over your lips.

Jason gets a smirk, his eyes darting between your eyes and lips. "Deal."

You think all of your secrets are about him. He knows everything else. You’ve told him it all whether he knows it or not. The only ones you have left are the ones about him and those are the ones most guarded. They are yours. They stay locked behind your ribcage to keep you and Jason like this. Flirt and fun and no strings attached. But, he's got these big green eyes that make your secrets want to spill out carelessly.

"Okay, are we having a discussion about these secrets or not?" You ask bluntly and you want to know what's safe to tell him now. You don't want the talk yet. What you're doing is fun and easy. You don't want to complicate it just yet.

Jason shakes his head. "Nope." He doesn't want the talk either. This is comfortable. He wants to be comfortable a little bit longer with you.

"It was always you." Your voice is so quiet Jason almost doesn't hear you and Jason just eyes you as your eyes divert to your hands slightly gripping his thighs.

If things didn't get complicated with Rose and the attack on the tower, and if he wouldn't have pushed you away and if you wouldn't have run, you would have told him. You would have just said the words but all of those things happened. And while you don't want that conversation right now because things would change too much too soon, you do want him to know. He beats himself up when things go wrong and Jason thinks he's not worthy of being cared for or important to other people. He deserves to know.

His heart nearly stops in his chest. He racks his brain, trying to figure out exactly what that means because it cannot mean what he thinks it means. But he's almost positive there can't be anything else you mean by that. He remembers every conversation you’ve ever had and you wouldn't tell him something he wouldn't remember. The only thing that comes to his head is him and Gar. And that thought is banging and pounding against his ribcage, trying to thrash its way out into the open air and ask. To verify that's true. But, he can't. His ribcage stays closed and locked and guarded.

"Don't dig into it." You state as you finally look back at him and see the gears in his head start to move. "Your turn."

Jason bounces too many secrets around on his head. He could tell her so many. He's thought about kissing you since that day in the training room where you told him what happened to you. He wishes he would have kissed you both of those nights in the bathroom. He should have asked you to leave with him. But all of those seem too heavy and he knows you will want to dig into them. That's not fair to you. He won't do that. And that’s why he doesn’t tell you it should have been you, it’s always been you. You deserve to know, too but you’ll dig and he knows you will. That’s not fair. So, he picks something else that's still honest, but not something that'll bother you.

"I like when you help me like this. Never liked when Bruce or Alfred would offer." Jason’s voice is soft but a little hesitant.

You offer him a gentle smile and you actually expected him to say something less serious, something more of a joke. You were okay with that. So, this is surprising.

"I'll always clean you up." You laugh softly.

Jason isn't gonna talk about it. Not even that, it's too much tonight so instead, he pulls you closer to him before sliding his hands up to your face and bringing your lips to his.

Over the next few weeks, things continue as normal. You and Jason continue your new arrangement and it's going well. You've managed to keep it between the two of you, not even realizing Bruce and Molly have definitely figured something was going on. You're existing in your own bubble together. Bruce upped your training so he knows what you’re capable of. He's happy to have you along on patrol but he's going to make sure you’re safe just as he did with Jason and Dick.

Training with Bruce is different than Dick and Jason. Dick was defensive, Jason is offensive, and Bruce is a mix of both as well as observing. But, you follow along with him just fine and Bruce has you fitted for a suit because if someone is going on patrol with him, they need extra protection. And you’ve felt comfortable enough on the bike, with Jason's teaching, that you applied for a motorcycle license and are just waiting for the all-clear. Jason assures you that they approve most people and you don't need a standard license to even apply. So, you’re not worried.

Now though, you’re hanging out with Molly at Molly's apartment in Crime Alley. You've been hanging out a lot more and you feel so happy. You were best friends your entire lives and you missed her. It's why you never mentioned her by name. Keeping her name out of your mouth, kept the ache of missing her at a distance. But you're back together and Molly missed you, too. She always worried you found yourself dead somewhere. She's relieved you were just across the country.

"I missed this place." You let a sigh, opening the take-out box.

"I swear, we'd eat there every weekend. I haven't had this is forever." Molly laughs softly. It was your favorite place, eating there hurt.

"Really? This was the first place I wanted to hit when I got back. Jason and me went the very next day I was here." You beam.

"Oh, you took Jason to your favorite take-out place?" Molly asks with a grin, her sitting down and opening her own take-out back.

"Yeah! He needs to experience it, too." You defend. "Why?"

"Just funny." Molly laughs softly. "Seems nothing has changed though. Getting the same order."

"And the place looks the exact same." You gesture your fork at Molly. "Tim still helping out, just as a full-time employee now."

"Yeah, instead him running orders in between doing his homework," Molly laughs and Tim is the son of the owners of the restaurant.

The three of you aren't friends by any means but you've had your fair share of conversations over the years. Tim was always in the restaurant when you and Molly would pop in and the natural order of things would be to talk to people around the same age.

"Feels so homey." You smile softly.

Your phone vibrates and Molly has noticed your face lights up when you check it. You start typing and there's this smile on your lips that warms Molly's heart. You’ve always been a little cynical, just a little. But you were also happy. It's just, Molly hasn't seen you like this and you’ve been different. In some ways a good different and in others, not so much.

"How are you? It's been a few weeks and I haven't asked in a while. I wanted to give you some space." Molly’s voice is kind as she starts on her food.

"I'm really good, actually." You answer honestly.

You’re still having nightmares and you look over your shoulder still. But, you don't feel nearly as paranoid. The nightmares are slowing down. You’re getting a little more sleep. And then there's Jason. He makes you feel so at ease with everything.

"Good, you look happy." Molly’s smile is gentle and warm.

"Yeah..." You let out a soft sigh. You aren't sure you’ve ever been this happy as you type away as at a text which is of course just Jason asking what you and Molly are up to.

"So...you and Jason...?" Molly raises a brow at you.

"What about us?" You answer slowly, resting your phone on the table.

"You like him." Molly teases softly.

"Do I?" You quip.

"Yes. You have never been more obvious about something in your life." Molly laughs.

"What do you mean?" You snort with the shake of your head.

It's not so much that you care that Molly knows. It's that you know Molly and you know Molly is going to have a whole lot of questions as to why you haven't told him yet. In order for you to answer that honestly, you would have to tell Molly about Deathstroke which means Robin and you can't do that.

"Well, no one calls him Jay so there's that. You two are always touching each other in some way which is very uncharacteristic of the both of you. The way you guys joke with each other. You talk about him a lot. You talk about the other people but not like you talk about Jason. Then there's the way you look at—"

"Okay." You cut your off, getting the point. You didn't realize you made it so obvious. "I get it."

"So?" Molly presses.

"Yeah, he just...." You pause and a sad smile comes to your lips. "I really, really like him and he's such a brat, ya know? But...I don't know. He's...good. I don't know, he gets me and I get him. It's like we don't even have to talk to get it, I guess." Your brows furrow. "I don't know."

"He likes you, too you know?" Molly pokes at her food.

"How do you figure?" You chuckle and you’re always hoping he does but you highly doubt that’s a detail Jason told Molly.

"He watches you. Like, always. When he says something he thinks is funny, he immediately looks at you to see if you laugh which, by the way, you always do and Jason isn't that funny." Molly teases and it gets a laugh out of you. "He's really protective of you, I mean, he is with most but it's different with you, remember when we saw that move last week?"

"Yes?" You question and you’re not entirely sure what that has to do with anything.

It went as it always does when you go to see a movie. You tease Jason about how few movies he’s seen and he calls you a nerd and tells you to get out more. As far as you remember, it went as it always does.

"There was a guy eyeing you and you were oblivious to it because you were too busy watching Jason but Jason was staring that guy down so hard, I thought Jason was going to walk over and hit him, the guy left. If looks could kill, that guy would have been dead. Also, don't tell him I told you this, okay?"

"Okay?"

"When he came back, he told me about this girl and I've never heard him talk like that about someone before. He said she drove him insane but was also one of the coolest people he's ever met. And he missed her. I kind of thought he was talking about Rose. Like he wasn't over her because he said he was excited this girl was coming to Gotham but then you walked into the coffee shop that day and I knew he was talking about you not Rose. So, for what it's worth, he likes you."

Jason looped Molly in about Rose when he got back. He didn't tell her much but he did tell her. So, when Jason was also talking about this other girl, Molly kind of figured it'd be Rose because Jason, as long as Molly has known him at least, hasn't been with many people. It's not all that shocking with his inability to let people in so Molly always thought it was Rose. But, she watches Jason and you and realizes all those good things she's heard, were always about you. Not Rose. And Molly, for one, thinks the two of you would be good together.

A soft, sheepish smile tugs at your lips as your heart burns in your chest. "I didn't realize he talked about me."

It's a little surprising since it's Jason. But, your heart warms with the idea of him telling anyone about you. And him being excited for you to be in Gotham with him.

"You know Jason, super open and great at communication." Molly laughs softly. "So, have you told him?"

You shake your head. "No..." You mutter as you take a drink of your drink.

"Why not!? You always tell people and he likes you, too." Molly groans and Jason, she completely understands not saying anything but you? Not so much.

"It's complicated." You let out a sigh knowing complicated is an easy way to put it.

"Life is too short and you like him, he likes you. What's so complicated?"

You run every reason through your head. Deathstroke, almost dying, Gar, Rose, not wanting to get hurt again. Not wanting to Jason to die for you and Jason not wanting you to die for him. The whole idea of a relationship is terrifying. You’re both a little bit of mess at this exact point in time. The endless trauma that seems to follow you both around. And friends with benefits is fun. There are several reasons why this is complicated but most of those you can’t tell her. But, you can tell her one reason.

"I....okay...I can't tell you everything and I'm asking you to not ask about everything, okay? It's not my shit to tell. I can't tell you without telling you everyone else's shit and that's not fair."

"Okay?" Molly nods her head slowly, her brows furrowing together, unsure what you could possibly mean by any of that.

"So, uh....you just have to take what I tell you and don't ask questions and do not dig, I know you love to dig into things, so please don't."

"Okay, but you're freaking me out." Molly forces a small laugh.

"It's fine. But, look, something happened and uh....we got hurt. And I kissed him." You cut out every other important detail, knowing that likely makes very little sense.

"You did?!"

"Yeah, and I uh, I don't know. We went back home and we helping each other out and he told me he couldn't. He had his reasons and I...I agreed with him enough, I guess. And he said, that I was into Gar and he was into Rose anyway it wouldn't work with us. And that was the end of it." You poke your food with a fork because maybe that conversation still stings a little bit.

"You did it again." Molly groans as she she shakes her head.

"Yep." You nod your head. "I know, I realized that later. I should have fought but I did like Gar and he liked Rose. Those were facts we both knew. So, I Iet him push and I ran. And now, I'm....worried if I tell him, he won't pick me again and that'll suck. I know I put Gar in that shitty situation and that's not fair but I don't want him to push again. It just sucked."

You’re not a pick-me person but it hurt anyway. And you know that the odds of Jason pushing again, after everything and with where you stand right now, are probably pretty slim. But, there is that chance because he kissed you back that night, too. He never said he didn’t like you. But, that’s also a very, very small reason for not telling him. You think you could suck up the fear of it if it weren’t for everything else but you can’t tell Molly that. You can just give her this one, miniscule reason. 

"Right, but you let him. And I'm telling you he likes you. What's the worst that can happen if you tell him?" Molly shrugs her shoulders.

"We'd have to talk about it and neither of us want to." You chortle.

"So don't? You tell him and then he tells you and that can be the end of it, you don't need to have this whole contract discussed and signed about it."

"Yeah..." You let out a sigh. "There is more to it but that's what I can tell you."

"We'll, regardless, you should tell him. You would be good together." Molly shrugs softly, a cheeky smile pulling at her lips.

"I will, I swear. But, we're just having fun right now and I think we're both comfortable here for now." You take a bite of your food with the shrug of your shoulders. "What about you?" You ask changing it back to Molly. "Seeing anyone?"

Molly laughs softly, getting the hint to switch subjects. "Kind of. There's a girl, Sheila."

“Oh, Sheila?” Your eyes widen. “Go on.” You urge with a wide smile.

When you get back of the Manor, you go looking for Jason. While things are getting better for you, they almost seemed to have stalled for Jason. He feels happy. That's not the issue. The issue is patrolling as Robin and then the lack of sleep. His nightmares are several times a week and he can't bring himself to sleep some nights. He lays with you and you fall asleep. He never expects you or wants you to stay up and suffer with him. Everything is just hard. And he's so angry about it.

He's scared of everything that moves sideways and he never used to be like that. He couldn't afford to be like that. All he does is feel weak and every time he fucks up on patrol, it gets worse. He feels that much more like a failure and disappointment to Bruce. Every time a nightmare hits, he feels worse. And he hates that his leg still hurts. It's not fair and he's fine, usually. He deals with it. But, there are some days, like today, when the world feels a little heavier.

"Hey." You greet him quietly as you walk into the library, Jason seated on the couch against the windows with a book open.

He looks over the book and he smiles, almost subconsciously. "Hey, how's Molly?"

"Good, we got food from that place I like." You smile softly as you walk further into the room. He's reading Frankenstein again and you think the bags under his eyes are darker today. "Reading, huh?" You tilt your head slightly to the right.

"Yeah," Jason answers plainly.

You sleep together nearly every night and Jason doesn't know, but you feel him awake sometimes. And when you try not to sleep in each other's rooms, usually one of you wakes up from a nightmare anyway and wanders into the other's room. More often than not, it's Jason coming into your room. And sometimes, you’re the one that goes into his room to wake him up because he's screaming so loud, it wakes you up in your own room. The only reason you aren't completely freaking out is because he's getting better about talking about his nightmares with you. But, it's clear it bothers him. You wish more than anything you knew how to help him.

"Loud?" You ask and that's one thing he adores and appreciates about you. You’re never afraid to ask him about it. And you never really have to. You know. He never has to tell you. No one knows him like you do.

"Yeah."

"Wanna talk about it?"

Jason shakes his head, a gentle smirk on his lips. "Nope."

"Okay." You smile at him. "I'll be right back." You spin on your heels and dart out of the room, leaving Jason a little confused.

He goes back to reading his book until you walk in, carrying your scrapbook supplies in both arms, you have a warm but wide smile tugging at your lips. You sit on the floor at the table in front of Jason. Jason watches you get your supplies spread across the table and that's another thing about you. You just join him. You accept him not talking about everything because he will. He always tells you what's going on with him eventually. But until he's ready, you just sit with him so he's never alone.

"I'll just do my thing and you can talk if you want to or read." You smile widely at him as you look over your shoulder.

Jason lets out a soft chuckle. "Can read out loud if you want."

"I think you just like to hear yourself talk." You chuckle, looking back at the table.

"And you don't?" Jason chortles.

"I didn't say I didn't," You laugh softly and you could listen to him read an instruction manual and still be entertained.

"Yeah, alright. Did you want context?"

"No, you can just read." You answer softly, leaning over the table to open to the page in scrapbook you were last working on. And Jason starts reading.

Jason continues to read out loud and you work on putting your page together. Jason looks over his book after every paragraph, not even realizing he's doing it so often. But he can see some of what you’re doing and you’re working a page that looks to be all of the Titans. He can see a picture of Dick and Gar laid out while there's another one of Rachel on the actual page. And he smiles softly. He just likes you so much and he is so aware of it. You’re in your own little bubble with him reading to you and he thinks this is how it should be because it's peaceful.

Jason has never known peace. Between how he grew up and the streets and Robin, peace isn't exactly in his life. He didn't even think he knew a life could have peace. But then he meets you and somewhere between the chaos of your lives and falling into comfort with you, he realizes he's at peace when you’re around.

He wakes up from a nightmare and there you are looking at him with soft eyes and a look of worry across your face. But one that wreaks of kindness and adoration. And the nightmares don't seem so scary anymore. And then when things feel too heavy, you walk in and hold the world up with him. When he wants to absolutely lose it because patrol didn't go well and Bruce lectures him, you give him a smirk and it quiets the thoughts. When he thinks he's not worthy of anything good, you kiss him and he swears you are good. And maybe, just maybe, there is a part of him that can be deserving of you. When Jason doesn't think he knows what peace is, you walk in and decides to be his peace for him.

"Are you ever gonna show me?" Jason asks, looking up from his book and leaning slightly over the couch to get a better look.

You shove your book away from him. "You're so nosy." You give him a fake whine. "Maybe."

"Just maybe?" Jason leans all the way up, trying to get a look at the other side and you move it away.

"It's not done!" You turn to give him the fakest scowl he's ever seen.

"Sneak peak?" Jason gives you a cheeky smile.

"While that is cute of you, no."

Jason puts his finger in his book and swings his legs to the floor, planting his feet down. He leans over to you, closing most of the distance between you. His grin is wicked and wild like a rogue wave and you want to drown right into him.

"You're just gonna make me wait?" Jason's voice drops.

"Patience is a virtue, Jay." You lick your lips as you look to his.

"I'm not a patient person."

"Oh, I know." You laugh softly as Jason gets closer to you, his nose brushing over yours and you swear you'll never get used to it. You can feel him leaning over you though and you pull away, moving the book over. "Nice try."

Jason leans back with a booming laugh. "Worth a shot."

"Gotta be quicker than that, Jay."

"But you'll show me, right? When it's done?"

"Yes, of course." You roll your eyes. "It's just a book about you guys so I'll give that. You get to know what it's about." Your entire chest burns with his interest in your thing.

"The whole book?" Jason raises a brow.

"Mhm. You all get a dedicated page. But that's it, you don't get any more than that."

Jason's voice catches in his throat because if they all get a dedicated page, that means he does, too. "Oh, I get a page, huh?"

"Yes." You chew the inside of your cheek. "If you stop being so nosy, maybe you'll get two."

Jason wants to crack his rips wide open and let you take his heart right out of its place. He thinks maybe he was born with a broken heart, maybe it was supposed to be permanently damaged. And as he grew up, people took more pieces of his broken heart leaving him with this shell of something that doesn't even resemble a heart. Because it's guarded by so much barbed wire and latches, it's nearly impossible to access. But he wants to take all of that away and let you take what's left of it. He wants to give you every damaged piece of him he has left and maybe, just maybe, you'll offer a piece of yours for him. And his heart won't be permanently broken after all. Maybe. Just maybe, he's been wrong his entire life and he doesn't have to be broken forever.

Maybe he was born with a broken heart but maybe his heart wasn't destined to be permanently damaged.

"I'll take that." Jason beams at you and he wants to be involved in all of your hobbies.

He's not sentimental, but he wants to take all the pictures he possibly can in case you ever want them for a scrapbook. And he wants to go to your silly hobby stores and help you pick up more supplies. He wants to learn about how you choose a topic and how you plan your pages. He wants to know all of it.

"Can you show me how you do your scrapbooks sometime?"

Your brows furrow. "Um...yeah, of course. Didn't think you'd be into it."

"You like it." Jason states and you’re so head over heels for him.

"Can you teach me how to cook some of your favorites then?" You ask. "You like it." You state with ease.

Jason's smile is soft and loving. "Yeah, of course. Don't wanna learn your favorites?"

You shrug. "Yeah I do but...then I can make yours. You always make stuff for me."

"Alright." Jason chuckles softly and the both of you wonder how long you'll do this for. That was not a friendly thing either of you just offered and you both know it. "I'll teach you something tomorrow."

"Then I'll teach you tomorrow, too." You beam at him. "Think of a topic you want to do and find some pictures."

"Yes, ma'am." Sarcasm fills his words but he's so excited to learn about your thing. Jason leans in closer once more, almost kissing you before your attention is pulled to the doors by Bruce clearing his throat.

"Sorry to interrupt." Bruce states, eyeing the two of you and he finds this whole thing amusing. You both actually think he has no idea what's going on.

Jason leans back a little in his seat, cheeks shooting a fire engine red while you keep your attention on Bruce. Why do the older bats keep interrupting and how the hell do they always know? Jason though, can see that Bruce doesn't look mad or annoyed. He actually looks happy.

"Why are you so happy?" Jason questions.

"That's him being happy?" You whisper as you turn around to look at him and Jason chuckles quietly.

"Your suit has arrived." Bruce offers you a soft smile.

In all honesty, you thought that it would take longer but you can't be too surprised. This is Bruce Wayne.

"No shit?" You question and while you like to tease Jason about his suit, you do actually think it's kind of cool and you’ve been excited waiting for this day to come. That also means, you should be able to finally join them on patrol.

Jason moves to the edge of his seat because while this is your suit, he's just as excited. He remembers the first day he got to put on the Robin suit and he still deems that the best day of his life. He doesn't think it'll be like that for you but he's excited for you anyway.

"Would you like to see it?" Bruce asks.

"Hell yeah." You close your scrapbook and get to your feet, Jason immediately joining you.

The two of you follow Bruce down to the Batcave. Bruce hands you a suitcase, one similar to the one Jason has for the Robin suit. You head off to the bathroom/changing area and get changed. You look in the mirror and you beam with a sense of pride.

It's so lame and it's impractical to have to change but you really like it. In a way, it's as if it solidifies your role as a vigilante. You wear a mask and that's fine but this is different. This actually hides your identity better than just a mask does and you feel as if this is what you’re meant to do. The suit is the symbol of vigilantism and you feel so proud of it. It does not define you but you hold your head up high anyway. It just fits perfectly and it's yours. So, you walk out with your head high, a pep in your step.

Jason's eyes widen as he smiles widely, getting up from his seat at the batcomputer when you come into view. The suit is black but it has Pacific blue accents. The tactical belt is Pacific blue and the cape, that naturally has a hood, is also Pacific blue. There are two vertical stripes of blue fabric down your sides, the gloves that go almost to your elbow are blue as are your boots. The holsters hugging your thighs are even blue. Instead of a domino mask like Jason and Dick, you have a mask on the lower half of your face, covering your mouth. The mask is also blue. And Jason thinks you look absolutely amazing.

"Holy shit." Jason gawks.

"It's so cool, right?!!" You beam, nearly jumping.

Jason can't help but laugh. Of all people, he didn't think you would actually think the suit thing was cool. You’ve made fun of him a hand full of times about the Robin suit, mostly about the mask and cape. But, he finds it amusing anyway because you’re beaming at him and you’re he one that asked for the cape.

"I thought you said it was lame." Jason smirks at you.

"It is but it's so fucking cool!" You’re so excited and Jason can see the smile in your eyes. "Is my cape fireproof and bulletproof?" You look at Bruce who has a sense of pride. You’re not his vigilante in the same way Jason and Dick are and were but he thinks you'll do just fine.

"Yes, of course. All of your knives and tools fit in your belt and in the holsters." Bruce explains.

"This is so fucking cool, Bruce." You think you might vibrate right out of the suit from being too excited. "Thank you, seriously."

"You're very welcome."

"So, I can go on patrol now?" You look between the two of them.

"We go tonight." Bruce offers you a nod.

"You're a bat now." Jason quips, earning a fake glare from you.

"Guess, it's worth it. I mean, my cape is cooler than yours." You state as you pull the hood over your head. "I got a hood."

Jason lets out a heart-filled laugh. "Yeah, but yours was modeled after mine." Jason quips.

"Still it's so cool." You can't even fire back because this is just the coolest thing ever. "Gar is gonna lose his mind."

"He's gonna have a fuck ton of questions about it." Jason lets out a laugh.

"I know! But he'll think it's cool!"

"You're gonna hang out in that all day, aren't you?" Jason leans back against the desk to the batcomputer, a cocky and knowing grin on his lips.

"It is tempting." You let out a laugh as you look down over the suit.

"You'll be able to wear it plenty." Bruce chuckles and you remind him of Dick and Jason when they first put on their Robin suits.

Jason even said it was the best day of his life. It's like the suit makes it all real. It makes what you all do a reality, a sense of purpose. A sense of hope and that's why Bruce does it, recruits Robins. To help them and offer them a sense of purpose and hope. Even if things don't always go to plan.

"Thank you, again." You say genuinely.

"You're welcome."

"Can...can I show Gar? And the Titans?" You ask.

You’re not exactly sure where the line is on telling people. You know you can't just go out telling any random person, or friend that's not in your line of work. But it's the Titans, all of which know about Bruce.

"Yes." Bruce chuckles softly. "Just put it in the case when you're done." Bruce states before he exits the cave.

You pull out your phone and take a selfie, your eyes smiling for you and Jason shakes his head. You’re so pretty and funny and cute. Jason doesn't think he has enough words or even the proper words to describe how he feels about you. You walk up to Jason and hand him the phone.

"Wanna take one for me?" You ask.

"Sure." Jason chuckles softly and you stand in front of him, your hands on your hips with your head held proudly, the hood and the mask concealing most of your face and Jason has to give it to you. The hood was smart. "Here." Jason hands you the phone back as you look at the picture and you can't believe this is happening. Your entire life Batman and Robin have been the vigilantes of Gotham and now you’re one of them. It's insane. "It looks really good on you." Jason states softly.

"You think so?" You ask with hopeful eyes.

Jason nods, his eyes looking you up and down. "Yeah, it's fucking hot."

"Oh?" You question, pulling down your hood. "You think so?" Jason can't see it, but you’re giving him a teasing grin.

"Hell yeah." Jason closes some of the distance between you and he wonders if you see him like this in the Robin suit. You make fun of him sure, but now you’re the one in a suit and cape.

"Robin suit is pretty hot, too, ya know?" You shrug your shoulders lazily.

"You think so?" Jason's voice drops and he goes to look at your lips, realizing he can't so his eyes come back to yours and he swears he wants to drown in them. "Always making fun of me."

"Hell yeah." You pull the mask off and close the distance between you. "You're just easy to make fun of."

"Guess we just make a good team, huh?" Jason asks, his voice so low you can barely hear him and now he's freely glancing to your lips.

His hands rest on your hips, just above the tackle belt and he's never felt the fabric like this before, on someone else. There's a sturdiness to it. It's thick and textured under his callused palms. And a part of him, while he wants you to come on patrol, was a little nervous about it. With your whole ability to get kidnapped and held captive, or almost, it worries him just a little bit. But, you’re wearing this suit and he knows first hand that his suit protects him from so much every night and he doesn't feel so nervous about it anymore.

"Guess so." You lay your hands on his sides, lightly holding his t-shirt.

Jason grins before putting a finger under your chin and bringing your face to his, kissing you gently.

That night, you go out on patrol with Jason and Bruce for the first time. Going out with the Titans was always fun and riveting. It's one of the reasons you missed it but you were a big group. But, going out with just Bruce and Jason, it's just the three of you. And there's something about it you think you kind of prefer over the larger group. Even if that means working with Bruce. But, it's fun and you have a great time and patrol goes well. Nothing eventful really happened, just the usual small petty crimes but went well anyway.

The next day comes around Jason teaches you how to cook pot roast. It is his favorite meal after all. There's a lot of laughter and stolen glances. Jason's never taught anyone how to cook anything. It's always been him and then Alfred taught him some things. But that's all it ever was. And now he's here with you, teaching you and you’re like a sponge, absorbing everything he's telling you. You keep notes on your tablet and Jason thinks it's the cutest thing in the world. You do all of it for him. And for a second, Jason catches him thinking that friends don't do that. Again.

You're friends, that's been established whenever Molly asks. Or Bruce gives either of you one of his looks that somehow say everything and nothing all at once but they wreak of suspicion. When you first started this, you asked if it were friends with benefits and Jason said it'd be fun. It is. It is a lot of fun. But, he does find that maybe you're crossing that line more often than not now where it's not really friends anymore.

You reach for his hand during movies and TV shows so you can play with his fingers and he rubs your back and plays with your hair. You kiss a lot more than when you're joking or sparring or more. You’re dedicated to learning his favorite meals and he's dedicated to learning your hobbies. You sleep together more often than not. You are almost always together or texting when you're not. He always makes sure you’re tucked in when he wakes up first. And he swears friends don't do this and a part of him wants to freak out about it. Push you away and call this whole thing quits but he looks over at you as you beams with pure and unfiltered joy, and he knows he won't do that.

He decides, he wants this. Whatever the fuck this is going to be, he wants it forever. With you. He wants you today, tomorrow, and every day after that. Jason wants you to give him all of your broken pieces and let him mend them back together or replace them with every whole piece he has left. He swears up and down he doesn't deserve it and he doesn't deserve you. But, right now, in this moment watching you learn his favorite meal with the happiest smile he's ever seen, he can try to be someone who does deserve you. He'll try to be someone you deserve. So, he smiles back at you and walk up to you, wrapping you in his arms before kissing you.

And you teach him stuff about scrapbooking. You went to the store before dinner and you’re positive you were probably annoying because while Jason is interested, he also is a huge dork. He really enjoyed the googly eyes and insisted he would need them. For what? You don't know but sure. He was just interested in everything and you watched him with stars in your eyes because Molly is the only one who ever showed interest in your things. Molly is the only one who let you go on movie rants but Jason does, too. Jason does with enthusiasm and then it's like he keeps a mental note of everything you have ever said. You don't know why he does it or how but it makes you feel important in a way you’ve never felt before.

As the week goes by, you think patrolling with Bruce is so bizarre. He's been Batman for your entire life and now you’re....sitting on rooftops which is an entirely other situation, with him. It's weird as shit. But, you are enjoying it. You like helping innocent people stay safe. And you get to spend some more time with Jason, you get to watch Jason in his favorite element. Kicking ass. And he's hot while he does it, too.

Now, you're back at the Manor and you’re the first one to shower this time. Showering after patrol is actually the best type of shower. Even if you don't do anything, something about it feels refreshing. For you, it's kind of like you come home and then you don't have to be a hero. You can exist. You step into the shower and that part of yourself gets to wash away with the water. You think it might be better that way because you think Jason's issue is that Robin has become so embedded in every part of him, he doesn't know how to fully separate himself from it. And while you adore him, you don't want that.

You watch him and you listen to him scream in the middle of the night. He doesn't deserve it and you don't want that either. So, you separate yourself from it and when you’re here, during the day and after patrol, you are not a hero. You’re you.

Jason has found himself in the bathroom with you. It's a routine you’ve gotten into. One of you showers while the other one brushes your teeth and gets mostly ready for bed. Neither of you are even entirely sure how it started but there's a sense of comfort in it. It feels normal and safe this way. Even though the Manor is probably the safest place in all of Gotham.

And Jason can see you through the frosted glass and he adores you. You’re pretty and smart as hell, you’re dramatic and funny in all the right ways. You get his sense of humor which is a feat in itself. You get him and Jason likes to be close to you. You take care of him in ways no one has ever done. He didn't think he deserved it but you do. You clean up his cuts and scrapes and never even flinch. You give him a look sometimes with the roll of your eyes and all he can do is smirk because he knows you worry but you support him anyway because it's his thing. And you rub his back and you always know when his leg hurts.

Jason thinks maybe you don't know he notices when you notice but he does because you’re always extra cautious around him. You take care of him and he's thinking it should be the other way around.

"Hey, can I come in?" Jason asks, hiding the hesitance in his voice.

Your brows furrow but you’re not about to tell him no. "Um...sure?" Jason hears you laugh and his body erupts with goosebumps.

He strips down and pulls the door open just enough to get in the shower with you.

You turn around, feeling the cool breeze on your skin. "What're you doing?" You ask through a laugh. He's never joined you for a shower before, not that you mind.

"Thought I'd help." Jason offers you a smirk.

Your brows raise. "With?"

"You wash your hair yet?" Jason questions and you’re watching his expression carefully and sometimes, he's really, really good at hiding exactly what he's feeling and thinking. And this is one of those times.

"Yes." You state, your eyes slightly narrowing at him.

"Anything else?"

"No." You can't help but laugh and Jason loves the way it echoes on the title walls.

"I'll wash your back for you." Jason holds his head up high and you offer him a shrug, turning around.

Jason grabs his own soap and pours some in his hands. Once his hands are lathered, he gently runs his hands over your shoulders and your entire body erupts with goosebumps, static settling into the marrow of your bones. Jason is always gentle with you, even when he's not. He's careful and tender. But, this is different. You aren't laying down together or laughing about something stupid. And he's doing this just because. And it's just so nice of him and sweet and tender. All words you think no one else would ever use to describe him. But you do.

Jason rinses his hands once he's finished rubbing the soap in and he uses his hands to start washing it away. He's careful over the scars, not wanting to put too much pressure on them but he allows himself to trace over them. He wishes you didn't have them, not because he doesn't like them, but because you shouldn't have been put through that. He'd go to hell and back to prevent it from ever happening again. If anyone deserves better in this world, it's you. It's always you.

Jason presses a kiss to the top of your shoulder and you turn your head to look at him. Your eyes are soft, brows slightly knitted together. You love how his hair sticks to his forehead when it's wet and the way his skin glistens with the waterdrops. You feel your heart start to race in your chest as he moves up your neck and you have never wanted anyone more than you want him. You think he's ruined you for anyone that could have possibly come after him. And every part of you couldn't be happier about it.

"You didn't use my soap." You whisper as Jason kisses your neck, you tilting your head to give him better access.

"Nope." Jason mutters against your skin before nipping at the base of your neck.

"Why's that?" You question, your eyes closing and you think you might suffocate under his touch. You feel him smirk against your skin, setting your entire body on fire.

"Because." Jason answers before he starts sucking a spot into your neck and he definitely does it on purpose. He likes when you smell like him.

Jason nips at the skin once more, pulling away to see the mark on your skin. And he smiles proudly to himself, before kissing the area and then kissing back to your shoulder again. You aren't sure what he's doing but you swear he could do this all night and you'd feel lucky.

Lucky is not how you have felt, ever. There have been moments where you’ve realized what you had before, with your mom, was lucky. And you realize Dick finding you was also lucky. Finding these friends was lucky. Finding Jason was lucky. But, you’ve never considered yourself a lucky person. Disaster and heartbreak seem to follow you around like a magnetic tornado. But, Jason is here and he's kissing you softly and gently and he's taking care of you and for the first time, you think you might be lucky.

Lucky to have him and deserve someone like him. You’re lucky to be here with him today and for the first time, you don't let the paranoia of something bad coming, ruin this moment. Whenever something good happens to you, something bad follows but right now, with Jason, you don't have a single thought like that. Because even with you not together, you’re lucky to have him. And you know it.

You turn around, looking up at him and Jason loves your eyes. "Let me." You whisper softly, grabbing your soap from the shelf and Jason chuckles softly, turning around.

You get some soap on your hands and start massaging it into his shoulders. Jason dips his head and he really could just evaporate into oblivion under your touch. It does something so special to him that he doesn't think he can explain. But he feels wanted and cared for. You’re careful, minding the scar on his back like he did with you and you trace over it, just like he did. And you massage some of the muscle as you rub the soap in because Jason's always too tense and his back is always filled with knots.

Jason lets out a soft groan as you work out a knot under the warm water and he doesn't know how you know to do it. He doesn't know why you do it and normally that would bother him. To not have the why. But, it's you and he doesn't need to know. Because he trusts you.

You kiss his back as you wash the soap away and Jason feels exposed again but in a way, he thinks he could live like this forever. Exposed to only you. It's not so scary when it's with you. And you can feel him relax under your touch as you smile against his skin. You can always get him to relax. And you always notice.

He'll be tense, maybe he doesn't even realize it, but then you take his hand in yours or you kiss him anywhere or you put your legs on top of his and suddenly, you see him let out a breath as if he's never been able to breathe properly in his life. And his shoulders move forward just a little and he gains this half-cocked grin, every single time.

When you started this whole thing, you knew. You knew how you felt about him because you’ve always known. And you knew he did, too. You hate conversations about feelings because it's exposing yourselves to being left bleeding wide open. It exposes you to the elements of heartache and being alone. It leaves you exposed to allowing someone else to hold the hammer that could finally shatter the last remaining pieces of your hearts. And you do enough bleeding and breaking for yourselves. But, you don't need to have the conversation because you’ve always known. Even when you want to deny it because that sometimes still seems easier than allowing each other to hold the hammer.

You slide your hands up his chest and rest your cheek against his back, hugging him softly. You feel Jason vibrate as a chuckle pulls through his lungs. He rests his hands on top of yours before picking one of them up and kissing the top of it. Jason turns around and places his hands on your hips, squeezing softly and he loves how your skin is soft compared to his hands. You offer him a gentle smile as you rest your hands on his shoulders and you love the way his shoulders feel on your hands, warm and sturdy.

"You didn't use my soap." Jason states with so much warmth you swear you'll never be cold again.

"Nope." You smile up at him.

"Why's that?" Jason dips his head closer to you.

He holds your hips like they're a lifeline to hope and happiness. And he wants to hold on forever because sometimes he needs a reason to keep holding onto hope. And you, in the middle of the chaos, offer him that hope. And he wants you, he wants this, late nights in the shower with you after patrol, cooking dinner with you, doing dishes, reading and hanging out in the library with you, today, tomorrow, and every day after that.

"Because." You whisper softly, brushing your nose against his.

Jason rests his forehead against yours and closes his eyes for just a second. There's this feeling in his chest, something he doesn't think he's ever felt before. It's in his chest and his stomach and seeping into every crevice of his brain. It's in his blood and bones and knees. It's warm like a campfire and thrilling. It's like lightning struck his entire body and this vibrating, burning feeling is the aftermath. He feels so happy. And instead of butterflies in his stomach, it's more like lightning bugs coming out during the first warm day of the year. Flickering with light and warmth, glowing. A reminder that the cold days are only temporary and it will be warm again. It's easy and subtle and calming. And scary and thrilling and exciting and happy. It's everything all at once. He doesn't know exactly what that feeling is, what the vibrating in his bones is or the weakness in his knees is, but he knows it feels like home with you.

You press your lips to his and it's gentle and soft. The kiss is sweet as honey and Jason pulls you impossibly close to him, your chests touching. And he wants to devour you.

You snake your hands into his wet hair, giving a light tug and Jason's hands trail to your ass, giving you a squeeze. You squeal against him and Jason chuckles against your lips. And you feel his length growing between you.

You take him into your hand, pumping him slowly and eagerly while Jason bites your bottom lip. The heat grows between your thighs as the kiss grows sloppy. Jason is heaving softly against you and his right hand snakes between the two of you, teasing your hole with a single finger. Your knees weaken with the touch and you let out a soft whimper, feelings your body desperate for more.

"Eager?" Jason chuckles hoarsely against your lips.

"So are you." You quip back, pumping just the tip as you feel precum leak onto your hand, mixing with the water. Jason lets out a groan, jerking his hips forward. "You're perfect, Jay." You whisper against his lips.

Jason’s heart booms against his ribcage as his head swims with praise. His cock twitches in your hand and the only thing he wants to do is pin you against the wall and drown right into you.

"Shit." Jason mutters as you pump him quicker, squeezing more at the tip before going back down the shaft.

Jason slides a second finger into you, you letting out another moan. His palm brushes over your clit with every pump and it’s like a bolt of electricity every single time. Your breath hitches as you feel Jason smirk against your lips. His fingers curl into you further, gaining an eclectic moan from you and he loves the way your moans sound reverberating against the walls.

"C'mere." Jason mutters pulling his hand away as you let out a whimper from the lack of contact. 

Jason grabs your hips and turns you around so you’re facing the wall. Jason lines himself up with her gaping hole as you place your hands on the wall for security. Jason slides in with ease thanks to your wetness and the water spraying down on you. Jason starts pumping into you softly and then firmly. Your moans grow louder. Jason grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling you up to him.

"Shh, don't want Bruce to hear." Jason's voice is graveled and you whimper, eyes rolling back.

"Jay." You let a quiet whine. "More."

There’s a snicker that falls from Jason’s throat and it’s rough and warm against your skin. Jason is nothing if not a tease in more ways than one.

Jason particularly likes these situations where he can get you to nearly beg him to fuck you. It sends his entire body into a lust-filled frenzy, taking all of his self-control not to completely lose it.

"What was that?" Jason asks, a snicker lingering in his voice.

Your voice catches in your throat, a whine falling from your lips as Jason's thrusts stall. You buck your hips back, trying to get more contact, trying desperately fill every part of you. Jason lets your hair go, gripping your hips tighter so you can’t move.

 "I didn't quite hear you." He teases and you want to bite the smirk off his lips you knows he's wearing right now.

"More, Jay." You get out through gritted teeth. “Please.”

Jason chuckles, pulling out and slamming into you. "Anything for you, princess."

Jason pumps harder, fast, and deeper into your gaping hole and you can feel yourself about to unravel. Jason can feel it with the way your pussy clenches around his cock with every thrust. He reaches his hand down to circle your clit.

You let out quiet gasp before it turns into a near pornographic moan. Tears brim your eyes as the pit in your stomach grows thicker and heavier. Your body feels like it’s on fire while your hands almost try to grip the slick tile wall. Jason moves his free hand to your mouth, him still pumping eagerly into you.

“C’mon, babe,” Jason’s voice is low and raspy, hot and lust-filled. “Wanna feel you cum on my cock.” Jason nips your neck.

You mutter against his hand as your eyes roll back in your head, bolts of electricity ripping through your body. Your knees shake as your teeth sink into Jason’s hand. Jason lets outa  hiss as his thrusts become sloppy and erratic.

He feels himself nearing his own orgasm and he quickly pulls out, spraying into the shower and down the drain. His chest heaves as he hangs his head, the high lingering around him as you turn around. You offer him a lazy and lust-blown smile. Your breathing is ragged but you do adore him with every piece of you.

Jason’s pupils nearly cover every piece of green in his eyes but there’s a delighted and tender smile on his lips. You watch his chest rise quickly, the water highlighting every raised and toned muscle on his torso. His hair sticks slick to his forehead and there’s just something about him that makes you feel alive.

"Can I wash your hair?" You ask bluntly and Jason lets out a booming laugh.

He looks back at you, brows raised. "Really?"

You shrug. "Yeah, of course. I like your hair." There’s a wide, toothy smile on your face as your eyes are hopeful and lively.

Jason shrugs one shoulder, a delicate smile pulling his lips up. "Sure." He chuckles before washing his hands under the water.

The next morning rolls around and you make sure you’re up earlier than usual, before Jason. It's his birthday today. You wanted to make sure you could grab his presents and be back in his room before he wakes up. So, you’re quiet and careful getting up and heading to your room.

You grab the wrapped presents you have hidden under your bed and then you head back to Jason's room. When you get back, he's stirring awake so you hide the presents behind your back before getting back on the bed, sitting on your knees.

"Morning," Jason says groggily but he's got this lazy and tired smile that makes you melt.

He's so confused. You’re smiling and the morning sun peaking in through the curtains is kissing your skin in just the right ways. You look so beautiful. But you are never up before he is, not when it's not because of a nightmare. Yet, here you are, smiling and beaming and he can't even imagine why.

"Good morning, happy birthday, Jay." You bounce slightly on your knees and Jason lets out a tired laugh.

"Thank you." He shakes his head, grabbing his phone from the charger and checking the time. "You woke up early for that?"

"Yes." You nod your head once and you feel the nervousness flood your veins. "It's your birthday, of course, I did."

"It's not a big deal." Jason lets out a scoff and his birthday has never been a big deal. He was lucky if anyone even remembered besides himself.

"Yeah, it is." You state confidently. "I got you some stuff." You safe softly as Jason sits up.

"You fucking got me something?" Jason questions, trying to figure out when you would have done that and how.

You give him a shy smile, reaching behind you and grabbing one of the presents. "Of course, I did." You hand it to him and it's wrapped in metallic red wrapping paper and Jason can't help but think it matches his suit. You did it on purpose.

He takes the gift softly from you and you watch him nervously, waiting to see if he likes it. Jason's heart stops as he opens a first-edition Frankenstein that's in a clear display case box. He looks to you with wide eyes and he never expected this. He doesn't own first editions. He's never asked because he's so worried he'll ruin them but you wrapped it in a box for a display. How the hell did you even know that? And he's only read it to you once and you knew it was one of his favorites.

"A first edition?" There's a softness in his voice as if he's unsure how to react.

You nod softly. "I asked Bruce for help but yeah." You reach behind you and grab the other one. "Here."

After dinner a few weeks ago, you followed Bruce into the living room to ask for help in getting Jason a few things for his birthday. You hate even having to ask but you knew nothing about getting first editions of books or money to get those first editions. But, Bruce was really nice and actually seemed happy to help.

"You didn't have to." Jason shakes his head, his grip on the case light, careful not to smudge it.

"I know but I wanted to." You shrug your shoulders softly and you think he deserves the entire world.

Jason shakes his head and opens the next present. This time, it's a first edition of Pride and Prejudice wrapped the exact same way and he just doesn't know how you knew that. How you knew these two books and also to put them into display cases. No one's ever paid such close attention to the things he likes, besides Bruce.

"Another one!?"

"I know you really like those books. You're a fast reader but I see you with Frankenstein and Pride and Prejudice often enough to know you really like them. And they're two of the books you have two copies of." You point to the corner of his room where he has his bookshelf. "Also...uh....there's more." You say with hesitance and you reach behind yourself, grabbing two thick sheets of paper and you hand them to him with shaking hands. "I made those for you."

Jason's entire face softens as he looks over the first one. It's like a scrapbook page, like what you showed him to do. But this one has what looks like torn pages from Frankenstein, his favorite exerts and quotes. There are pictures from the movie and Jason just blinks at you before moving the second one. This one is the same but for Pride and Prejudice and he is so confused but he feels so important and he can't even begin to understand it. He just doesn't know how you knew all of that about him without him ever having to tell you.

"How the fuck did you even know?" Jason's voice is breathy. "My favorite lines and shit?"

"When I saw you had two copies, I looked in them and saw you annotate one like a fucking nerd," You give him a smirk. "So, uh, I did not destroy a book. I just used Photoshop and made the book page images using your quotes and stuff you had underlined and had notes next to.” You explain, the nervousness growing in your stomach because you can't tell if he likes them or not.

"Why would you do all this?" His brows are pulled in a tight line, no smirk or grin across his face and you’re thinking maybe you overstepped.

You know you both cross the friend boundary all the time. A part of you wants to stop saying you're just friends when someone asks at this point. But, you are and you’re wondering if this was too much. But, he means the world to you and he struggles with himself. You just want him to know he's important to you, everyday.

"Because you're my favorite person." You suck in a breath. "And this is the day the earth was blessed with your insane presence." You laugh softly. "You deserve it."

"Thank you." Jason looks back to the pages and he thinks this must have taken a lot of time and planning.

He thinks this must have been something important to you to make because you don't show anyone your scrapbook stuff. But, you made this for him. He's not sentimental, but he swears he'll hold onto this for the rest of his life.

"Do you like—"

"Yeah! I fucking love it, thank you, I'm serious. I'm gonna frame these ya know?" Jason lets out a soft laugh, giving you a teasing grin.

You feel heat running over your cheeks. "I'm glad you like them, Jay."

Jason scoots closer to you and puts his hand under your chin. "Thank you." His voice is soft before he presses a kiss to your lips and you want to live here forever. His birthday might be your favorite day of the year.

"How do you remember all of this shit?" Jason pulls away, scanning your face.

"Because it's important to you." You state so casually and Jason is so shocked he can't find any words. It's as if it were the easiest sentence you ever said. "It matters to you so it matters to me."

That feeling in his chest is back. It’s coming at him in full force like a wrecking ball. Banging and pounding against every bone in his body. He’s sitting down but he swears his knees are weak and his head is foggy. His chest is on fucking fire but the only thing he feels right now is a tender and comforting type of warmth.

"Thank you." Jason pulls you into him and kisses you again and he thinks this is the only thing he wants to do for the rest of his life. With you.

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series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

A/n: I promise I’m getting to the angst lol But because I know what I wrote for that and what I have planned, I’m giving you guys a lot of fluff on purpose lol but I’m excited to get there which is why I’m combining chapters lol

Tag list: @fairyofshampoo // @italiana-20 // @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai  // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @mayfieldss  // @ghostkingblake // @im-done-with-this-im-out // @velvetskies // @lilylovelyxo // @cryinghotmess // @yesimwriting // @vivian-555 // @anthemabby // @baebeepeach // @legend-o-zelda // @harleycao // @somehow-lovable-trash  // @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx // @deyja-the-duck // @jasontoddslover //  @captainmarvels-blog // @totallynotkaibiased // @scarlovesyou​

#jason todd x reader #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #titans fanfic #titans fanfiction #jason todd x yn #petrichor #jason todd smut

[ashes-writing]

burnin for you pt two | stranger things ; g.emerson

A/N ; So uh... I swear, this is not the chapter I intended to write when I sat down earlier but... I really wanted to give Gareth a moment or two to shine. And I personally feel like he definitely gets mean/mouthy and has anger issues, hates to see people being picked on. So... I guess this chapter stemmed from that. So if you wanna see a grumpy drummer get protective over a 'princess' type.. That is this.

ALSO OMG Y'ALL HAVE ME CRYING RN HAPPY TEARS BC LIKE... i did not think anybody would even look at this when I posted it. The fact that people did and they actually seemed to want to see more, like.. fuck, I'm blown away. emotions, man. Thank you thank you thank you so much you don't know how much it means to me. The feedback and stuff really does help and you don't know how much it inspires me.

Pairing ; Gareth Emerson x Sweet!girly!rich reader.

Timeline / Other Stuff to Note ; 

pt one - two - three - four found by clicking since tumblr can't be trusted to show my shit in the tags and it's hit or miss..

set in season four but none of the unholy terrors of the upside down will be happening here. eddie will not be dying. huuuuge note here. Gareth's actions within stem from my own personal headcanons about him having anger issues. And being v.v protective -especially when he's close to someone. Reader, i'll remind you is sweet!girly!rich fem reader. With soooo much insecurity, i s2g. There are reasons for this that are hinted at -will be hinted at. This is gonna be a bit of a slow burn with heaps of sexual tension starting from the next chapter, most likely. Not an intense slow burn but it's not racing towards the finish line either. A jog. that's what this is.

Tag List ; @musichealsscars @aries-arcade @allelitesmut @hcloangcls @krys-orion @rampagewriting --absolutely ignore if you prefer bb and @scoobiessnacks are the only ones I have to tag bc they're on my taglist. if you'd like to be added to my taglists for anything including Stranger things, please let me know or add yourself -> here.

Warnings ; the jocks. they are the warning. there is a confrontation. There is a fight. There is the teeniest mention of blood/injury. There is a v.v. insecure reader. more internal pining on both sides but no real... romantic type stuff... yet.

Other Stuff ; tag list doc || my rules - fandoms and some characters I write for || requests are open (pls.. pls... send me things) but they're limited to headcanon asks + filth/fluff alphabet letters -> send me things.

I do not consent to my work being reposted elsewhere or copied/reworked/rewritten and reposted here or elsewhere. You don't own this, I do. So like... don't steal my shit.

“You.” your nose wrinkles with disgust as you tilt your head slightly and shield your eyes from harsh sunshine above. Mason Allen is standing there, but he’s not alone. No, he’s got two of his idiot friends with him because apparently, stupidity and being an actual creep are  spreading diseases. You swallow hard as the three of them step closer. Surrounding you.

“Relax.” Mason’s voice is quiet. His eyes drag over you longer than necessary. Long enough that you pass over from discomfort to real fear. He steps closer to you. Gently guides your chin up to make you look at him and he’s giving you that plastic fake grin when he does it and you just feel so sick… You shove his hand away with disgust and this only makes him step even closer. There’s an angry gleam in his eyes. It’s scary as hell.

“I’ll scream…” you trail off, eyes darting around yet again and finding no one, “ I bite.” you mumble quietly.

And you will. You do. But you’re hoping to fuck that whatever this is, it doesn’t come to that.

Your stomach does a lazy flip.

“You’ve been hanging all over that fuckin little freak like a bitch in heat since you got here. It’s disgusting. I just wanna know what he has that I don’t, sweetheart.”

You rub the bridge of your nose. Now there’s annoyance mixing in with your fear and neither of those are emotions you handle well at all. They both tend to make you mouthy as all hell. And this is not a good time for that to crop up.

This could go very,very badly if you get mouthy.

Before you even have a second to stop and think about it, your eyes are scanning the parking lot a third time, searching for anybody who looks even a little familiar, a little safe.

You’re mainly hoping to find Gareth but you’re pretty sure he was gone the second the bell rang. He doesn’t usually hang around after school for no reason. Except on Hellfire night and that wasn’t tonight. And given that you don’t know for sure what he drives just yet, you can’t tell if you’re right or not.

“C’mon, doll. Answer the guy. We’re just curious. Y’know Carver beat his ass once, right? Last year, actually.” Mason rubs his chin thoughtfully, gazing at you. That stupid fucking pervy gleam in his eyes the entire time. “You really want a pussy like that, doll?”

Carver. That prick. The one who gave you an entire ten minute lecture on those ‘satanists and their fucking cult’. The one who seems to be something of a wannabe cult leader himself. He pretends to be one of those white knight types but there’s something about him that just makes you a little afraid of the guy. The only jock that you’ve met lately that you’re not afraid of at all is the kid Lucas, you babysit for his mother regularly.

But then you stop and think about it, you’re afraid of a lot of things. Insecure as hell. 

“Why would you want that when you can have this, hm?” Mason gestures to yourself. And you’re trying so,so hard to bite your tongue, to keep the sarcasm in check so this doesn’t go off the rails somehow.

“ He’s not an asshole who likes to gang up on somebody and scare the living shit out of them, for starters?” you list it off. But you’re in full blown panic mode, so naturally, you don’t stop there. Between the anger and the fear, your mouth is about to land you in serious shit.

Or so you think.

“You’ve been with him almost two weeks. You gotta be gettin tired of the freaks by now. How do you know you don’t like me, hm?  You never really gave yourself a chance. You were under him from the word go.”

“Better him than you.” you mumble.

“What the fuck did you just say?” he asks, clenching his fist.

“You’re ugly,deaf and stupid? Damn. Somebody really pissed in your gene pool, didn’t they?” you retort and somehow, while you’re feeling feisty enough to do it, you shove him out of your way and you’re running.

Your only goal is to put as much distance as you can between you and Mason Allen. In the process of running away, you collide with Gareth, who was coming around the side of the building from the shop class on the back side. 

“You know I’m right, buddy. You know it, Gare.” Jeff insists. He catches sight of you in a full on blind run and he’s about to nudge Gareth. “Case in point… Do you really think she’d keep seeking you out if she didn’t like you at least a little?”

“We both know what’s going to happen.” Gareth insists, still totally unaware of you, approaching at break-neck speed. He’s looking down at writing covered sneakers. “Just leave it alone, damn it.” he snaps calmly.

“Yeah, I know what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna keep being weird around her til she just leaves you alone. Look, she’s not exactly the most confident… Kinda like somebody else I know.”

And then, it happens.

Gareth glances up to look around, see if he can spot you in the parking lot anywhere and he sees you alright, you’re running straight for him, full-throttle like you’ve got the hounds of hell right behind you.

You collide with him and before he can brace himself and keep you upright, you’re on top of him and his back is against the ground. And he bites back a groan because this is… Not going to help him and the situation he’s in with his little dumb crush on you and he knows it. The way you fell straddling his hips is going to haunt his memory for a long time. Even after you’ve come to your senses and abandoned him and the guys for a chance to be popular.

“C’mon. Run, now.” you’re stumbling over your words as you scramble to pull yourself off of him and trying to pull him off the ground too. Gareth is looking at you with a brow raised, taking in the way you were just running like your life depended on it, the widened panic deer-in-the headlights look on your face, all of it. And he just knows.

Somewhere at the bottom of it all, Mason Allen is involved. The guy’s been sniffing around since your first day. Popping up. Watching you. It’s creepy as hell, it never fails to piss Gareth off and his rants and tangents since this all began and Mason developed his odd fixation on you are nothing short of legendary. It’s just a matter of time until no amount of telling himself this is not his business won’t be enough anymore.

Gareth has been diligently  telling himself that this is not his problem and sooner or later, you will wind up among the popular kids and hell, you might even date Mason at some point, pretty girls always go for his type, don’t they?

But seeing you so freaked out. The shake he felt as it raced through your body when you ran into him, nearly knocked him down just now, it starts to sink in.

You’re actually terrified of the guy. Of a lot of people in general, come to think of it. You disguise it with disdain, disgust and sarcasm but the fact remains. 

And the anger he’s been telling himself he  doesn’t have a right to feel because you’re not his girl, that all comes rushing to the surface real quick.

When this happens, he pretty much decides to hell with running. If the guy scares you this fucking bad, maybe it’s time to put a stop to the him.

Drumsticks and Gareth’s notebooks are shoved at Jeff in haste. “Keep her over here, alright?”

“Gare, wait. There’s fucking three of them, idiot.” Jeff tries to reason but Gareth isn’t listening. He’s probably hit that black out level, the one where he’s not thinking, he’s just angry.

“Keep her over here.” his voice is deathly calm when he turns around to look back at Jeff. 

It hasn’t been this calm since way back in sixth grade, right before he completely messed Jason Carver’s face up. What’s surprising is that everyone seems to have forgotten just how scary an angry Gareth Emerson can actually be since then. He’s calmed down a lot since. He tries so hard to avoid fights. Even to a point where he just let Jason beat him up last year.

Jeff sees you about to make a run for it and go after Gareth but he swings his arm out in front of you. “Oh hell no. You’re not going back over there, alright?”

His tone is firm. You swallow hard and nod.

Eddie makes his way out of the back of the school and as soon as he sees what’s about to go down, he rubs his hand over his face. When he spots Dustin, he whistles to signal him over.

“There’s three of ‘em. Me and Jeff need to go help Gare, alright? Gare told Jeff to keep her,” he glances at you, “over here. You’re gonna do that, alright, Henderson?”

“O-okay.” Dustin nods, a little worried because he doesn’t know what the hell is going on. His gaze settles on you and you’re biting the edge of your thumb, you look freaked out. “What happened?”

“Stupid fuckin Mason. Again. I… I collided into Gareth and tried to get him to run but he stormed over there.”

Dustin grins to himself. 

The way Gareth protests to anyone who will listen in Hellfire about the two of you not being a thing, this is only proving everyone else right.

“I need to go over there. This is my fault. And like.. He’s the only friend I..” you’re upset, you’re scared and you’re disgusted with yourself because this is completely your fault. There is no mistake. You’re about to lose the only friend you really have, all because you were too pathetic to stand up for yourself.

,, This is precisely why no one ever stick around.” the thought comes and it doesn’t help. Not a bit.

“It’s not your fault. I mean if you were egging it on, I’d say I agree but you’re not. Also, he’s not your only friend, okay? I’m your friend too.” Dustin answers quietly.

“It is my fault. If I would have just been brave enough to deck the guy in the first place..” you glance over just in time to see Gareth put his entire body into Mason’s which sends him sprawling back and doesn’t stop Gareth. Not even a little.

Gareth is straddling him now, he’s got him pinned. “You’re gonna leave her alone… Right, Mason?” he asks, snarling the words as he holds onto the front of the other guy’s shirt. Mason is about to flip him but Gareth uses the fact that he’s actually got muscular legs and more strength in them than anyone really seems to realize to his advantage and he grips Mason’s sides, keeping him from flipping them. “You’re always talkin about us… You guys are the creeps. Not us.” he spits when he says it. “Pickin on somebody who can’t do anything because that’s so manly, right?” he lets go of Mason’s shirt and lets him hit the dirt of the schoolyard.

Jeff and Eddie went over to help out, but so far, Gareth has kept the upper hand. Ducking punches thrown, coming up with his own harder ones, a stray punch or two landing with him but he doesn’t seem to notice. 

They’re shocked because the last time Gareth got this angry was all the way back in middle school and it took years for any of the jocks to even consider pissing him off again. Some of them who haven’t forgotten the whole thing still keep a pretty wide berth when it comes to Gareth.

Two of Mason’s buddies act as if they’re going to go help and triple team Gareth but Jeff and Eddie grab hold of them and hold them off with a smirk. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, hm?” Jeff asks, smirking at the one he’s got hold of. Eddie chuckles. “No, no no.. Three on one, that’s not fair, right? You’re gonna stay right here, buddy.” he tells the one he’s grabbed and holding back. “This is gonna happen, bud. Just accept it.”

Gareth happens to look up just as you come running over to try and stop it from getting out of hand and this is what kind of calms him down a little and brings him back to reality. The angry haze begins to clear out and he pulls himself up off of Mason, wiping the back of his hand across his bloodied mouth. “Don’t even look her way again.” is the last thing he tells Mason Allen and Mason waves his hands defensively when he doesn’t answer quick enough and Gareth looks like he’s going to punch him one more time because of it. “Okay, alright. Fuck. I won’t even look at her.” he insists, but at this point it’s as if he’s pleading more than anything, there’s a slight shake to the jock’s voice that has Eddie snickering and Jeff chuckling quietly with amusement.

With the potential that the fight was seen, the jocks scatter away, retreating to the gym. Gareth’s taking deep breaths to calm down. “Dude, you want your emergency inhaler?” Jeff asks when he sees Gareth trying to catch his breath. “Just to be safe, man. I’ll go get it.”

“Yeah.” Gareth answers, panting, digging down into his jeans. He tosses the keys in Jeff’s general direction and Jeff bends down to scoop them up then he takes off towards the truck Gareth drives. You make your way over, wincing and grimacing as you catch sight of the busted lip and the bruise on his cheek.

And you’re conflicted because seeing him get that angry was scary, but on the other hand, if you’d been braver, if you’d stood up for yourself to begin with back around the third day when Mason made this a pattern, it wouldn’t have happened.

You’re worried about him. He could have gotten seriously injured if things had gone just a little differently.

“You didn’t have to do that.” you mumble softly. “I should’ve.. I should’ve done something.”

Gareth shrugs. He really doesn’t say anything. Neither do you.

But you have to do something. You untie the pink silk scarf tied into your ponytail and you step up to him cautiously, holding it out. You wince and you gingerly press the fabric against his mouth. It’s not ice, but it’ll get some of the blood off. 

“Dustin?” you motion the younger boy over.

“Yeah?”

You nod to your own bag discarded on the lawn because it was too heavy and you needed to run fast and get the hell out of dodge minutes ago. “There’s a dollar in the pocket. Go get me something cold out of the vending machine, please?”

“On it.” Dustin makes his way over to the dropped bag and picks it up, finding the money. Then he takes off for the gym.

Gareth’s breathing is back to normal and he’s calming down, but he’s kind of thrown for a loop because you didn’t see everything you just saw and run like hell. Or decide that maybe giving in and just hanging out with them was the better idea.

As it sinks in for him, he’s staring up at you. 

“I can go if you want.” you mumble quietly, your stomach twisting as you say it.

This has to be too much for him. It has to be.

“No. It’s fine.” he mutters quietly.

You nod. Dustin comes running back over with a cold drink and you hold it against Gareth’s lip. “You shouldn’t have done that. I..I should have done something about it myself.”

“Do what, exactly? He would’ve had his friends waiting. That’s how those assholes operate.” Gareth answers quietly. Hissing at the cold against the heat in his busted lip. Trying to cringe away a little because of it, only to have you step a little closer, just enough that he’s slightly towered over you and your body’s just barely grazing his. The cotton candy scent of your perfume gives him something to focus on and he breathes in and out slowly.

“I know, just..” you take a deep breath. “It’s my fault.”

“But it’s not. You didn’t ask the guy to be a fucking creep.” Gareth states quietly.

You shrug. But you don’t say anything because you don’t know what to say. You only know what you feel and  you feel like this is all your fault somehow.

“He didn’t… do anything, right?” Gareth asks, tensing up.

“No, no. No. I ran.” you reassure him. You back the cold drink away from his mouth and grimace, shaking your head.

“Good.” he takes a deep breath or two, relieved. Wincing because his lip is throbbing and he feels like shit after the adrenaline has started to wear down. He’s eyeing the aluminum can in your hand and you pop the tab, holding it out to him. “H-here.”

When he takes it, his fingers brush your hand and for the millionth time, it feels like someone’s just dragged a live wire over him. He takes a sip of the drink and holds it out to you.

You don’t realize how big this is yet. Gareth’s not the one who shares everything easily. The fact that he’s sharing a Dr. Pepper with you right now is definitely a bigger deal than he makes it seem or that you even realize it is just yet.

“Did you drive here?” he asks quietly. You shake your head. “Uh uh. Walked.”

“Do you uh… Do you want a ride home?” he asks quietly.

You nod. If he takes you home, you can at least get him cleaned up a little better.

“Yeah. Only if you don’t mind and it’s no trouble, though.” you stumble over your words. You’re relieved because you know at least two of the jocks happen to live out near the same area as you and you always see them driving past when you’re walking.

Gareth steps closer because something else is starting to sink in. You’re never outright asking for anything nor will you say yes to anything without tacking on “Only if I’m not bothering you” or some variation of it at the end. And he’s starting to realize that really, really bothers him too. Makes him want to find anybody who ever made you feel like you have to make yourself small or whatever it is you’re trying to do and show them how it feels.

And he realizes finally that he can’t just continue on keeping you at an arms length. And he really doesn’t want to, either. Even if all he ever gets is friendship, it’s better than nothing, right?

He decides then and there that yes… yes, it is.

“Hey, Emerson.. We’re going ahead to Grants. Just come by when you get her home.” Jeff calls out and as says it, he nudges Eddie. “Doesn’t have a crush on her my ass, right?”

Eddie laughs, nodding. “Cmon. I gotta stop by Reefer’s on the way.”

– ( an hour later )

“You’re sure this is okay… Right?” you ask him for the third time and Gareth chuckles quietly as he nods. He brings the truck to a stop behind Eddie’s van at the curb of Grant’s house. You’d cleaned out his lip and fussed over the bruise. More than once during the amount of time he was in the house you live in, he got the feeling that you were alone there a lot.

When he asked you about it, you told him your parents were always away with your dad’s work. You acted like it wasn’t a big deal at all but he could tell it bothered you. So, he’d asked again if you wanted to come with him and watch the band practice in Grant’s basement. He’d had to really convince you that it would be fine, that he wasn’t angry about everything that happened in the schoolyard, that no one was, but he managed to and you’d agreed to come back with him. 

After changing of course. And if he thought the little soft sundresses in their varying pastel hues were something of a distraction, he had not prepared himself at all for the sight of you in a pair of shorts and a soft pink sweater that hung off of one shoulder with the sleeves hanging over your hands slightly.

Because he’d damn near forgotten to breathe when he saw you.

Your hair was out of it’s usual ponytail and bow and it was loose, a little wild.

He was still trying to decide which way he liked you better.

Distracted as hell and nearly turned down the wrong damn street when he got to the part of town Grant lived in just because you were sitting in his passenger seat. 

“I’m telling you, it’s fine. C’mon.” he chuckles quietly and you nod. He gets out and makes his way around to help you out of the truck. The two of you make your way into Grant’s basement via the door on the side of the house and Grant’s immediate response is to grin and high five him and say that he wished he hadn’t missed the whole fight.

Gareth shrugs it off.

Eddie smirks and nods to you. “Decided to come with you finally?”

“Yeah.” he answered, glancing back at you where you’re sitting on an old sofa in the corner. He drags his hand through soft,curly hair and shuffles his feet. “Don’t start shit.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Gare.” Eddie laughs, giving the shorter boy a friendly shove. “C’mon. Let’s play.” he tells the others as he picks up his guitar. You watch as Gareth takes a seat on his stool behind his old drum kit. Scooting forward on the sofa a little more as they cue up a song you haven’t ever heard before, but it’s a little catchy. 

You’re bouncing your foot with the music and smiling.

You feel a little more relaxed for once. Hopeful.

Maybe if nothing else, you can finally make friends again…

But there’s that nagging doubt in your mind too… What if you push him away too somehow? What if he’s not what you’ve got yourself thinking he is and the same shit that happened to you before, in your old school, happens again?

All you can do is see where everything goes. Carefully.

#gareth emerson #gareth the great #gareth emerson imagine #gareth emerson fanfiction #gareth emerson fanfic #gareth emerson x reader #gareth emerson x fem!reader #gareth emerson x fem!reader imagine #gareth emerson x fem!reader fanfiction #// all i can say is.. i uh.. have no clue where this came from + say that this is my own personal interpretation of the character so... yep #// fight #// jocks being jerks #// jocks being creeps #// protective!gareth #// goddamn it my boy deserved his moment to shine so here we are.

[docholligay]

Buy my Fine Wares So I Can Be a Ship's Barnacle on My Mom's Trip!

Hello! Are you looking to enhance your October? Boy, do I have a deal for you, or maybe two! here with what you'll be helping me get for my trip so that I can hopefully have a lovely time with my mother and maybe even pay for something myself! (The Patreon will be paused in December)

This is where you come in! I have nice things below that you may want to buy, things that come up in limited quantities when available and that I have moved my schedule around to accommodate.

For everything:

First come, first served! First in my inbox, first to claim. If you’re second, I will keep you on hold in case person one does not pay. (I’ll tell you of course)

I do NOT have to like the item. If we want me to read something and do a positive only review…I mean I guess it’s not OFF the table, but the price would be highly variable and that would be something we’d want to discuss privately before any money changed hands. Not relevant to this moment.

Talk to me before you pay! Terms are different depending on our long-term working relationship.

Book review, delivered in October: $85 SOLD, includes full reading of any book up to 500 pages (longer than that isn’t off limits, just come talk to me) and a 2,000 word at least review of the book. You are absolutely allowed and encouraged to send me questions you’d like me address in the review, or themes you’d like me to touch on. Not a requirement though!

I have the right to veto a book and refund you, but, I’m actually not sure what that would be, in fairness. I just want to put out there I have the right to do it.

Must be available in physical form. 

What will I be getting with this? A Davek mini umbrella, because it's going to rain, cold rain, for 80% of the time I'm there and I want to drink my mulled wine dry as possible. (the extra $20 is going to my "buying wool socks" fund)

Book review, delivered in November: $85, and also everything I said above, just scroll up. I could copy/paste, but why make the post longer?

What will I be getting with this?

A letter sweater to replace the one I lost last time I was in fucking England.

Y'all, I loved this early 60s sweater. It was my first vintage piece. I am so angry at myself, I hate myself so much every time I think about leaving it on that fucking train, because I was trying to make the changeover in Peterborough and I'd never done a train change. I am so sad about it. i am sad right now

But there comes a time when we have to move on with it, with or not we're getting over it, and continuing to punish myself by not letting myself buy a nice women's letter sweater to replace it is not, I regret to say, actually accomplishing anything. I'm going to buy it, I'm going to take it the UK, and I'm NOT going to lose it. (Watch, I find it for sale in the vintage clothing section of Portobello road and damn near cause an international incident ahahah) (Jesus christ Doc do they really cost that much?? Babygirl this is the price of me buying an imperfect one and doing some cleaning and mending on it. You see why I hate myself over this)

A weekend of liveblog SOLD: $230, This is exactly what it sounds like, two days in a row of four hours of liveblog! A great idea if you want to do a whole opening episode of an anime or continue something that I’ve done in the past!

I am open to doing almost anything, but as with everything, I have the right to veto the show you would like to do. If you have something you think might be a little odd, you can always talk to me! I don’t get mad about saying no, as long as you’re fine with knowing it’s a possibility. I MAY LIVE TO REGRET THIS, BUT HOLLIGAY HATES CAN BE PURCHASED FOR A $40 ADD ON, AND NOTED ENGLISH SCHOLAR DOC FOR $60*

What is this buying?

I wish this were more fun, but this is my drinks wallet! I mean, i think that's very fun, but I know it lacks the excitement of a new dress or something. If it sweetens the pot at all, I'm giving my mother a tour of at least two of the pubs that I think of as being Lena/her family's style on the East End, and definitely am not hiding it under the guise of my mother's desire to find a pub she liked as much as the old Angel and Crown, which is now sadly defunct.

*Those of you who signed up on the interest poll to receive notifications receive $20 off the add-on, because that's the price I quoted you!

#help me out and get cool things in the process!

[star-going-supernova]

please Star endow us with your college knowledge

Perhaps, uh,,, plot construction? Advice for plot in general? Anything that comes to your mind, really. It makes me so happy to listen to people who are really passionate about something 🌟

I’m happy to impart some college knowledge! 🌟 As always, there are a lot of opinions and preferences in this world when it comes to advice, and this is merely mine! Here are some general points re: plot that I like to keep in mind/live by, lol.

Bullet point outlines! If anyone ever tells you that you need a detailed outline of your plot to start writing a story, ignore them. Half the time, I’ve got just a mess of bullet points that are primarily to help me keep details, timelines, and events straight in my head. There’s random chunks of dialogue thrown in, silly comments reeking of excitement aimed toward myself, and big bolded notes about things I seriously need to remember. 

These are to help you, so add everything you need to it, like ages, years, character details, single sentence plot points, etc. Sometimes, I go chapter by chapter with a couple lines of the major things that need to happen in each; sometimes, I just have a bullet list of things that happen and I decide as I go where the chapter breaks happen.

All that being said, there’s nothing wrong with not having a plan either. I don’t have a plan for half of my current WIPs, lol. It’s totally okay to just start a story and see where it goes. Maybe a plot will emerge, like it did in we fall apart (but dad puts us back together), or maybe you’ll start each new chapter like “All righty, what’s gonna happen this time?” Letting the characters lead the story is fine—in fact, it can be a lot of fun! 

Don’t be afraid to rewrite scenes! I know it can feel discouraging or like you’ve messed up if you think you should start over, but I promise rewrites are a totally natural part of the process. There are a lot of times when I’m in the middle of a scene and I decide the tone feels off, or the story’s going in the wrong direction, or even sometimes I just plain don’t like how it feels. At the same time, though, this is supposed to be fun! Perfection isn’t necessary! A lot of my stories only go through one draft, and that’s totally okay! Not rewriting doesn’t mean you’re a bad author.

Heavily related to the above point: keep the old stuff! Don’t go deleting entire paragraphs or pages of work, not even if you decide to do a rewrite! I often keep a “discards” part of documents at the very end where I copy/paste the original version of something to, or I’ll just start over in a new doc. You never know if you’ll decide you liked a certain part of the original or if you later think of a way to tweak it so it works. I did a ton of rewriting and editing on a one-shot a few weeks ago, and after all sorts of discarded paragraphs and working on a copied document to preserve the original, guess what? I ended up going back to the original and simply incorporating some of the new bits I’d come up with since deciding on a rewrite. Keep your work!! 

If you have a specific series of events and A Big Moment as a climactic scene, everything prior to that moment should ultimately be leading up to it. That doesn’t mean you have to constantly be go-go-go toward the goal, but just be aware that diverging too far from your Big Moment can muddle the plot or make the Big Moment seem less important. Like in Miracles (And Those Who Make Them), from the very beginning, we’re working toward creating Audrey. But we’re not tunnel-visioned in on that. We still see casual scenes and interactions between characters. We take our time getting there, but even the interlude is still ultimately part of that progression: we see Joey’s doubt and insecurity, which he frequently battles against before she’s created. 

Slower scenes like that (that some might consider filler, but I have my own issues with that) are very necessary—they give the reader a breather, a chance to relax after some tension or anticipation, and they’re also good breaks for the characters. We need quiet/happy/peaceful/relaxed scenes to break up the heavier plot-focused ones to avoid overloads of information/action and to reset the readers in terms of attention and tension. It’s the oldest comparison in the book, but think rollercoaster. You need ups and downs and track that isn’t necessarily exciting in order to create an overall balanced and fun experience.

#i answered a thing #anonymous #rambling about writing #life and times of star

[simplymurdock]

Hey! I’d love to request an eleventh doctor x reader where the doctor is completely dependent on and in love with the reader - she’s his anchor - but he doesn’t tell her cause you know… he’s the doctor. The reader is oblivious to those feelings and one day something happens - you choose what - and he might lose the reader. What will he do when he might possibly lose his anchor?

Her Doctor

summary: What happens when the Doctor’s anchor slowly loses herself in the asylum of the Daleks.

pairing: eleventh doctor x fem!reader

warnings: cruising, mentions of losing someone and death, some angst but I make it up with some fluff in the end and sprinkled about. (that’s all i could think of but if i missed anything let me know and i’ll add it <3)

word count: 4,154 words

authors note: this hands down the longest thing i’ve written on here and it took forever. this lovely request came from @okay-j-hannah who you can blame for allowing me to write some sad shit (i’m 100% being sarcastic here lol). but in all seriousness thank you so much for requesting i really hope you enjoy this <3 (my requests are open so please make sure you read the rules before making a request!)

(y/n) stared at her hands wrapped around Amy’s wrist. The only sound to be heard was the howling wind above them and pounding coming front the half-skeleton-half-daleks behind the silver door. The bright blue light shining through either side of your fingers as she was still trying to process what she just did.

She saw the bright blue light in the grasp of the skeleton as the door slid shut. It was a reflex, at least she thought it was. Quickly sliding her thick band off her’s and slipping it on Amy once she saw the light going.

“One of these. But where did they get…it?” The Doctor answered after looking away from the screen where the skeleton creature where looking. His expression dropped, his whole body stood still as he stared at her hands. “What happened? What did you do?” He asked finally looking up at (y/n) with eyes full of a mixture of fear and sadness and hopelessness.

She didn’t reply, still in a state of shock of what just happened.

“(y/n),”

She looked up at him, she knew that tone. It was soft and sweet and comforting, something she needed right now. “The skeleton one’s is Amy’s, now she has mine. Technically her’s now I guess.” She said expressionless, ending it with a dry laugh. “I wasn’t thinking I-I-I just…”

He held her wrist, staring at it, in disbelief. “Doc, what’s gunna happen to me?” She was worried. He could only look at her, wanting to tell her everything was going to be alright. That he could fix this, that he could save her. But he couldn’t. He didn’t know how. The one person in the entire universe he wanted to always save…and he couldn’t. 

+°✮*. · ∘ .

“Can someone please tell me what’s gunna happen to me? And don’t sugar coat it cause you’re both below me.” (y/n) reminded, climbing down the rope ladder. 

Amy looked down at the Doctor, this had been the fourth time she had asked this. 

“The air all around is full of micro-machines, robots the size of molecules. Nanogenes.” He started to explain, finally reaching the bottom. “I know what those are, I’ve been with you for a while now.” She replied in a ‘duh’ tone, making him smile lightly for the fourth time. Amy soon stood next to the Doctor at the bottom, giving him a concerned look before the two watched (y/n) climb down the last few rails.

 “Well, now that you’re unprotected, you’re being…” The Doctor held the ladder still as (y/n) stood on the other side, jumping past the last three and looking at him. “Rebuilt,”

Her eyes softened, but her face stayed the same not wanting to show any sign of fear. “So how long do you saw we have till I get an eye-shish kabob sticking out of my forehead?” She said sarcastically.

“Physical changes come later.” 

“And what comes first?”

He looked down the hall, holding his hand out for her to take it. She did, interlocking their fingers like always. Amy smiled softly, happy to see she did forget the small things her and the Doctor did. He looked over to make sure Amy was on his other side before starting down the hallway. “With your mind. Your feelings, your memories. And I’m sorry love, but it’s started already.”

Her face fell and a sad frown formed as her head tilted, “What do you mean?”

“Because we’ve had this conversation four times.” Amy told her, beating the Doctor to the punch. Knowing it hurt her to have this conversation again which she could only imagine what he was going through right now.

She stopped making him stop as she kept her eyes glued on their hands. In her mind the climb was silent, but now she was told it wasn’t and that frightened her. It wasn’t her expression that told him she was scared. He knew her too well to know to go off her look, but her eyes. The pain and fear clouded them. Gently holding either side of her face, “Hang on to scared. Scared isn’t Dalek.” Kissing her forehead as the metal clanking started as the door in front of them pulled upwards.

Slowly walking into the room seeing a dusty old room. Small lights placed on the walls demily lit the space showing wires hanging from ceilings while chains laid scattered across the ground. “What’s that?” Amy questioned as robot dalek shouting was heard distantly.

The mental sound was heard as the two stepped back, (y/n) having to be pulled a bit, as the door descended down. 

“Keep a lookout, don’t open this door.” The Doctor told Amy as she nodded.  “Stay here. Right here, please.” He  told (y/n) holding his hands in front of the two before turning back to the screen. Exhaling anxitionly before getting to work. Amy looked between the two, knowing he was stressed out and scared for (y/n) but was clearly trying to keep his cool.

“Okay…” (y/n) breathed out scared out of her mind. 

It wasn’t the fear of turning into a Dalek… okay that was a lie, she was terrified out of her mind to have a Dalek eye-thing break out of her skull. The fear was of losing who she was. Who she remembered. If she remembered any of her friends… If she remembered her Doctor. It was also the fear of hurting people.

Turning around towards the ladder they had climbed down. Her head tilted in confusion as she saw him. Her Doctor…but not her current one. No, it was the face of the ninth regeneration. In all his fantastic glory. Walking towards the ladder gesturing his head for her to follow. She did and neither one noticed her wandering off. Reaching the small space seeing no one, no doctor in sight. Turning back down the straight, dimly lit, eerie hallway. 

And there he was once again. Except it was now the face of his tenth regeneration, hands in his pockets. Gesturing for her to follow as he disappeared, again, into the unfamiliar room. 

Walking down it as her face only lit up more and more. Not realizing just how much she missed those familiar faces. It wasn’t that she didn’t like his current look, she loved it, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t miss his previous faces.

Reaching the dusty room, and gasping happily. Seeing all her old friends, Rose, Donna, Maratha, both of her doctors, and Jack. Evenly spaced and all looking at her with their comforting smiles. Not realizing how much she missed her friends. At this moment she didn’t remember anything, not knowing she was in the Dalek asylum, not with Amy, not with the newer Doctor. Just wanting to be in the moment. 

“How do I get past them? (y/n)!”

“(y/n)!”

She turned back seeing the shouting two with wide happy eyes and a smile. “It’s okay. It’s okay, it’s only friends. It’s our friends.” She slurred in a hushed tone holding her pointer finger at the two keeping her back facing them.

“(y/n), it’s the nanocloud. It’s altering your perception.” He told her urgently, making her look back at them. “Look again, look again. Those aren’t people.”

She did so, quickly wishing she hadn’t. That she had stayed in her little make believe bubble. In the previous places her friends were Dalekss. Old, dusty, run-down Daleks all turning towards the three. “But…they were–”

“Love,” He said in the sweet calm tone trying not to freak her more than she already was. “Just take my hand and come on. (y/n), come on.” She slowly backed up still in disbelief about what was happening. “Run, run, run now, run!” The Doctor already pushed Amy to go before grabbing (y/n)’s hand as the two started to run down the hall.

Amy was stopping in looking up at the rope ladder they had just climbed down, “Wait, they’re climbing down!”

“Ah! Ah, yes, they are.” Quickly turning on his heel seeing (y/n) staring down a Dalek in horror.

“Intruder,”

“Back.” He ordered pulling the two women into the small space. Amy and the Doctor panting trying to find a way out. While (y/n) stared wide eyed at the wall, maybe this was how she died. She wouldn’t be stuck in an infinite-memory-loss-loop where she wouldn’t even remember a simple conversation. At least now she wouldn’t have to worry about the eye-shish kabob thing cracking and springing its way out to kill people. At least now she would be able to die with her memories intact.

The squeaking Daleks' wheels slowed down as its speech followed, “Intruder…” It said weakly as it powered itself down all together.

“Is it?” Amy questioned, unsure of what was fully happening.

“I’m not entirely sure.”

“It’s damaged.” He breathed out, as Amy sandwiched (y/n) between the two not wanting something to happen to her. “Okay. But what do we do?” She questioned. “Identify me, access your files. Come on. Come on!” He told it getting antsy staring down its blue eye. “Who’s your daddy?”

“You are the Predator.” It croked out.

“How did it get Predator from daddy?” (y/n) raised her brow looking over the hunk of metal as Amy scoffed quickly covering her mouth.

“Access your standing orders concerning the Predator.” He ordered ignoring the two. “The Predator must be destroyed!” It shouted as (y/n) watched it’s ever move. “And how are you going to do that? Dalek without a gun? You’re a tricycle with a roof. How are you going to destroy me?” He challenged as Amy stood next to the Doctor while (y/n) walked to the side of the robot alien.

A loud alarm started to beep from it, “Self-destruct initiated.”

“What’s it doing?” Amy questioned watching the Doctor try to use his sonic on it, but getting nothing. “It’s going to blow itself up and I’m with it. Only weapon it's got left.” 

“Self-destruction cannot be countermanded!”

“I’m not looking for a countermand, dear.” He remarked letting the Daleks head slink down. “I’m looking for the reverse.” And just like that the Dalek was zooming backwards, “Forwards! Forwards! Forwards! Forwards!” It shouted over and over again.

Amy quickly backed up trying to get the farest away. The Doctor followed but (y/n) didn’t, only being able to watch as the other Daleks were meeting it shouting ‘Intruder!’. 

Only seeing a flash before the explosion knocked her back. Her body getting thrown to the ground and then sliding stopping at the Doctor's feet unconscious. 

Once he realized what was happening he crouched down checking her over, making sure she was hurt. “Is that Rory?” Amy asked slowly, walking up as her eyes widened seeing the Doctor holding an unconscious (y/n). “Is she okay?”

“Yes. Now go see if Rory is. And please be careful.” He told her only seeing her walk past them as he went back down to the unconscious women in his arms.

Truth be told he didn’t know what to do. For once he was stumped, in a way that physical hurt, that hurt his chest. Seeing her hurt and unconscious and beforehand scared out of her mind what was about to happen. He was scared to lose her, to lose one of the only person in the world he cared for. The thought of losing her had always floated about in his mind with his life style who wouldn’t. But now that it was actually happening he was a wreck.

Even though he was happy what she did, proud even for it being a reflex. He slightly wished it didn’t happen, that it wasn’t a reflex. As bad as it might sound he wouldn’t be as much of a disaster as he is right now if it was Amy instead of her.

“Now, I’m not sure if you can actually hear me, but I need you to stay with me. I need you to fight against anything that changes you. Holding onto everything that makes you…well you. Your wonderfully, selfless, sweet, kind self. The exact same woman I fell in love with. Because… because if you, (y/n) (y/ln), leave I don’t–I don't know what will happen.” He admitted feeling a mixture of emotions. Glad he finally admitted it, admitted his feelings, the ones he had been bottling up for ages.At the sametime disappointed he told her while she was unconscious and unable to actually hear him.

He looked between his arm and her gray sweater sleeve one. Finally slipping his thick black bracelet off and placing it where her’s previously was. Staring at the flashing blue light for a blink before rolling the sleeve back down. He wasn’t internally sure if this would save her. If she wasn’t too far gone, or if this could help fix the changes that already happened. Not even thinking for a moment about what would happen to him. That he could possibly turn into one of the creatures he hated the most. It terrified him more that she would turn into one of them. And if this was a way for him to save her even if it was something he wasn’t completely sure on. Swiping her up into his arms hearing the Pound’s starting to call for them. 

Both turning to see the Doctor carrying (y/n) out in his arms. Still uncounis as her head was leaned back while one of her dangled while the other, the one with the new bracelet, curled up on her stomach.

+°✮*. · ∘ .

Gently laying (y/n) down on the lit up circle as the three of them surrounded her. “Will sleeping help her? Will it slow down the process?” Rory asked, bawling up his jacket and placing it under her head, separating it from the cold dirty metal.

“You better hope so.” Oswin said over the intercom getting all their attention. “Because pretty soon she’s going to try and kill you.”

“Already threatened them enough.” (y/n) groaned out slowly raising up, The Doctor gently holding her hand helping her up as his other was placed her back baking her. “(y/n),”

“Ow.”

“(y/n), you still with us?” The Doctor asked as she groaned squeezing his hand as pain shot through her body. “Sadly, I’m still here.”

“(y/n) are you okay? Do you still remember me?” Rory questioned as (y/n) lightly hit Amy’s thigh as she slapped Rory’s arm for her. “Right, stupid question.”

“Same old (y/n).” The Doctor remarked with a smirk. 

“Do you know how you make someone into a Dalek? Subtract love, add anger. Doesn’t she seem a bit too angry to you?”

“Well, if you can make souffle’s you can get a dictionary and look up the words 'sarcasm’ and ‘tough love’.” She remarked before wincing once again. “No one here is a chiropractor. My bones feel like they’re gunna snape if I move in the wrong direction.” She groaned out nodding her head, “Yup, fuck this, I’m going back down.” And she did, laying back down as the Doctor helped ease her back down.

“What about you though, Oswin? How come you’re okay? Why hasn’t the nanocloud converted you?” The Doctor asked, looking at the small blue camera.

“I mentioned the genius thing, yeah? Shielded in here.”

“Hmm. Clever of you.” He looked over at (y/n) who nodded knowing he wanted to physically express his thinking of how to get out of the asylum. “Now, this place. The Dalkes said it was fully automated. But look at it, it’s a wreck.”

“Well, I’ve had nearly a year to mess with them. And…not a lot else to do.”

“A junior entertainment manager hiding out in a wrecked ship, hacking the security systems of the most advanced warrior race the universe has ever seen. But you know what really gets me about you, Oswin?” The Doctor started to ramble pacing around the small rundown room. “The souffles,” (y/n) groaned out as the Doctor said the same thing. “The souffles. Where do you get milk for the souffles? Seriously, is no one else wondering about that?” He questioned looking back at the few before (y/n)’s hand raised up, “Me, not only do I not see a Dalek cow but a Dalek chicken…maybe I am losing my mind.”

“No! Frankly, no. Twice.” Rory protested knowing the two would go back and forth on the matter. 

“So, Doctor.” Oswin inquired about changing the topic. “I've been looking you up. You’re all over the database. Why do the Daleks call you the Predator?” 

“I’m not a predator. I’m just a man with a plan.”

“You’ve got a plan?” Both Oswin and (y/n) questioned. “We’re all ears.” Rory remarked clearly under distress. “There’s a nose joke going if someone wants to pick that one off.” Amy added.

“In no particular order, we need to neutralize all the Daleks in this asylum, rescue Oswin from the wreckage, escape from this planet and fix Amy’s and Rory’s marriage.” He explained as uncomfortable silences fill the space. “Okay, I’m counting three lost causes, anyone else?” Amy quickly broke it. “I’m number four.” (y/n) ‘s hand raised  back up again.

“Oswin, there’s a Dalek ship in orbit.” The Doctor said, trying to change the topic. “Yeah, got it on the sensors.” She answered as (y/n) finally sat herself completely upright looking down at her wrist feeling the unknown weight and quickly realizing seeing the faint blue light through the cotton. “The asylum has a force field. The Daleks upstairs are waiting for me to turn it off. As soon as I do, they’ll burn this whole world and us with it. So, Oswin, my question is this, how fast can you drop the force field?” The Pounds looked at eachother with the same confused look while (y/n) eyes never left the Doctor’s body. Trying to understand the plan he was making but couldn’t get over the bump that was the bracelet.

“Pretty fast…But why would I?”

“Because this is a teleport, am I right, Oswin?” The Doctor asked, already knowing he was. “Yeah! Internal use only.” She confirmed as it clicked for (y/n), the Doctor always was good at teleports.

He snapped his fingers and pointed at her, smiling widely before turning on his heels back to the three. Walking back to the circle as him and Rory, who had paced off, joined the two women. “I can boost the power, you know, once the force field is down. And we can use this to beam us right off this planet.” He explained using his screwdriver over the glass showing the bundle of wires and lights.

“But you said when the force field is down, the Daleks will blow us up.” Was the last thing (y/n) heard before her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she passed out. 

“Doctor!” Amy shouted as Rory started feeling for her pulse on her neck. The doctor was quick to turn around, “What happened to her?”

“I don’t know, she just passed out.” Rory quickly explained as he adjusted the bawled up jacket under her head. “Everything seems normal.”

“Will it slow down the effects?” She asked not wanting to say the actual words. “I don’t know, honestly.” He shrugged as The Doctor stayed silent thinking this had to be something the bracelet was doing to level her out.

+°✮*. · ∘ .

(y/n) leaned against the wall, at the top of the stairs watching the Doctor twirl around the counsel room smiling widely and repeating ‘Doctor Who’. Her Doctor. Her laugh was what caught his attention, making his smile only grow wider. “I thought you were still resting?”

“Feeling better. Much more like myself.” She held onto the railing as she made her way to his side. “Thanks to you of course.” He smiled at her, his eyes trailing towards the heart of the counsel before his expression dropped a little. The question came up, the same question, the only question he wanted to ask her. “Spit it out. I know that look.” 

“What look?” He challenged raising his brow.

“The question you keep biting your tongue about.”

It was a few seconds, he kept going back and forth on the matter but ended up biting the bullet. “When you walked into the room full of Daleks you said it was our friends?” Her eyes trailed down to the floor, crossing her arms and leaning against the railing. Swiping her tongue across her sudden dried bottom lip. “Our friends.” She repeated after sighing lightly. “All the ones we lost and your previous regenerations.”

It hurt.

It hurt his feelings, thinking that she would’ve wanted his previous faces. It had been one of his fears ever since he changed. Thinking she would take one look at him and leave, but she didn’t. Thinking once he showed his new personality she would leave, and yet she still didn’t. But it still was one of those fears that crupit up on him. The thought of her leaving him. Rathering that be of her own free will or not. “Oh…”

“I think my mind was trying to make the situation less scary.” She told him truthfully. She had thought about it nonstop. Confused on why her subconscious would show her these specific people. “But no amount of comfort could match when I saw you…after getting thrown down the hall.”

His head snapped up, “You were awake the whole time?”

“Not at first,” She admitted in an unsure tone. “I mean, I can’t fully remember when I was first like ‘oh shit!’. But I remember hearing your voice and thinking this was it, your voice comforting me as something else takes over…” She rambled off feeling the anxious pit in her stomach start again. The butterfly type feeling she felt around him but continued on, “And then my vision came back, blurry, but it was back…and I saw you. And then I blacked out again and well, you were there for the rest of it.” She nervously smiled at him feeling like she was making an idiot out of herself.

“I thought I lost you,” He admitted in an almost whisper, barely being audible over the engine of the tardis. 

Her head slowly tilted up at him as her eyes trailed behind, her soft sweet smile only growing. “You can never lose me.” She matched his tone only her voice was louder, more confident. And there that feeling was. It was as if they were in their own little world, nothing, no one, no being could bring it. Technically sometimes it was actually true since certain planets have any life. Which makes a nice day-off.

But her head tilted at the realization.

The feelings she felt for him never changed, evolved to match the new personality, but never actually changed. Only grew with each passing second she was with him. That safe, calming, yet exciting, and happy mixture that filled every vein in her body. Small bits of electricity ran through her nerves when she stood by him. The feeling she hadn’t felt when she was around the fake doctor’s. “Okay, now you have your thinking face on.” He acknowledged in his more brighter tone.

“Really and what does this face look like?”

“Your brows sorta go inwards and you get this tiny wrinkle in your forehead.” He lightly touched the small wrinkle as she quickly swatted his hand away, scoffing. Getting lost in one another's eyes feeling her cheeks starting to hurt from smiling. “So!” She turned and stood next to him resting her palms on the rim of the consel. “Where off to next?” He pressed his lips together, seeing you still right by his side. “I’m glad you asked,” He beamed before starting to pull and turn different knobs making the Tardis whaling start.

#doctor who #eleventh doctor #doctor who eleventh #doctor #imagine #who #11 #11 doctor #happy eleventh doctor #doctor who x reader #eleventh doctor who #eleventh #eleventh doctor x reader #eleven doctor x you #doctor who x you #simplymurdock

[championofelysium]

Last night I found my doc detailing various parallels between Achilles/Patroclus and Theseus/Asterius! I thought I would post the information from it here cuz it’s fun to talk about. Even though it’s been awhile since it came out, I guess there’s a general warning for spoilers if you’ve not finished the game yet!

The Obvious Similarities:

The distinct combination of emotional self-loathing blonde and their far more calm and rational brunette partner... Achilles and Theseus both fall into the category of “impulsive risk taker” as well, though Achilles has become somewhat calmer in his death (at least when around Zagreus).

Matching outfits. Pat and Achilles have a tragic reason for their clothing and armor to be mostly the same. Theseus and Asterius are just gay, on the other hand.

The rational calm dark haired ones both died in fairly tragic ways, though Pat’s death was at least honorable. Asterius down in the labyrinth absolutely miserable.

(A fun fact: Theseus tends to refer to him and Asterius' past fight as if the two of them had always been on equal terms and had always been friends. The only time he doesn't do this as far as I know is when presented with the yarn of Ariadne.)

The Less Obvious Similarities:

Both of the blondes signed some sort of contract with Hades in order to get their partner into Elysium. This leads to Achilles training Zagreus. And while the terms of Theseus' arrangement aren't as Explicitly laid out, it seems to be implied that it requires he battle Zagreus at Elysium's exit gates as its protector, alongside Asterius.

[Achilles: I signed a pact, lad. Felt the terms were good enough. He could live there, while I’d live here, at least for now. Such deals are most uncommon, and their confidentiality must be upheld. But, let’s speak no more of this for now, all right? Some other time.]

[Zagreus: How long have you been waiting to use that line, Father? Wouldn’t put it past you to have sent the Bull of Minos to Elysium entirely so we could have this conversation now.]

[Hades: You give me too much credit, boy. The Minotaur resides where he resides because of an entirely different arrangement.]

Part of why these contracts exist is because both Asterius and Patroclus were initially somewhere other than Elysium. Asterius had been within Erebus, and Achilles openly states that Patroclus was not initially sent to Elysium. Note: I had a screenshot of this line but I can’t seem to find it...? I’ll add it later if I do. [Achilles: You must safeguard the details of it, lad. Although it’s not as bad as you make out. I ensured Patroclus is provided for. We wouldn’t have been together anyway. Initially he wasn’t sent into Elysium, you see.]

[Asterius: King Theseus slew me in life, and saved me in death. I was cast into Erebus. A monster. He found me when he died. And used his influence to bring me here, with him.] Achilles also states that Pat is the only person he felt Whole with, and this is in part because Patroclus was one of the only people who didn't see him as a threat:

"[Patroclus] was... one of the only men I knew who did not look upon me as a threat. He saw something in me I never knew was there."

This could be seen as a parallel with how Theseus saw worth in Asterius despite his “monstrous” form, to the point he now decides to fight by his side for eternity.

Relationship Drama I think the Theseus/Asterius drama is a very silly and simplified version of the Patrochilles drama in the game. It's like Shakespeare and his two gay clowns that always mimic the main plot.

Achilles: Convinced Patroclus would not forgive him for his actions in life! He had genuine reasons to believe this, but the reluctance stays even after he's assured otherwise. He believes his own thoughts over Patroclus' words at that moment.

Theseus: Becomes convinced Asterius is going to leave him! He never says this Out Loud, but he seems to believe himself undeserving of Asterius, and it makes him insecure in their relationship. He's terrified of being left alone. Theseus only thinks this cuz his own thoughts tend to reverberb inside his head until they're all he hears, despite Asterius' reassurances otherwise. The concept of risk taking applies to both as well. Achilles mentions in his codex that Theseus likely risked his station in Elysium for Asterius, Achilles himself Risks It All for Patroclus 😭 fellas is it gay to take risks for the one you love 

Less relevant (but still interesting!) things: Note: T*mblr won’t let me add any more images so there’s only transcripts of the text from here on out </3 Patroclus comments on Achilles having a strong sense of justice, and how this is something that drew him to him. Theseus, too, has a really strong sense of justice, too, and has clearly impressed it upon Asterius. [Patroclus: Hah. How to describe what somebody was like? Everyone who saw him on the battlefield agreed he was magnificent, stranger. His allies and enemies alike. But, there was more to him, I think. A certain outlook. A sense of justice. I knew him before he was a warrior. Only reason I suppose I liked him.] [Asterius, to Zagreus: You come from the bowels of hell. This is not your place.] Re: Patroclus not seeing Achilles as a threat, Theseus was also one of the first people to view Aserius as something other than a monster. [Asterius: … No; we’re not. And I will fight for [Theseus], and alongside him, for eternity. As recompense for helping me to understand exactly who I am.] Pat himself straight up Acknowledges these similarities. But he also hates Theseus/doesn't wanna think about it for longer than he has to so he's also like "maybe Asterius just has bad taste in men idk". I love him he's so funny. [Zagreus: You know, for such a loudmouth obnoxious braggart, Theseus does seem to have formed a strong kinship with the Bull of Minos, hasn’t he. Are they truly as inseparable as they seem? I feel bad for the Bull.] [Patroclus: Sometimes it’s our differences that make us drawn to one another, no? And, at other times, there’s no accounting for taste. I often don’t know which is which, and they can have each other, far as I’m concerned.] I don’t have screenshots of it on me at the moment, but lest we forget Achilles also gaydar diagnoses Theseus and Asterius in his codex. Zag says that Asterius is friend to Theseus in the way Enkidu is friend to Gilgamesh in. Gilgamesh and Enkidu's relationship within the Epic of Gilgamesh is often viewed as romantic in scholarly material, and they too are sometimes compared to Achilles and Patroclus. 

[Zagreus: The Bull of Minos led me to another hidden aspect, Achilles! A beastly form of the Twin Fists, belonging to an ancient god-king known as Gilgamesh. You ever hear that name? He had a half-beast friend, apparently. Like how Asterius is friend to Theseus.] [Zagreus: …Oh, he is. He’s loyal through and through to Theseus, and never holds back when we fight. But he seems to be the respect-for-his-opponent type. Unlike his companion.] And as my final piece of evidence… partners. [The narration is as follows: “Buried deep within the archives, holding many binding pacts between Lord Hades and the dead, resides an old agreement; an exchange for services from an extraordinary warrior, for eternity within Elysium for his dear partner.] [A random ass shade within the House of Hades: That champion and his partner had it coming…]

#hope talks #thesterius #patrochilles #hades game #i swear to god if tumblr has an error while uploading...........

[thexanwillshine]

a;lskfjdk

Author: thexanwillshine (twitter, ao3) Pairings: Levi x Hange Cross-Postings: AO3 Notes: made for Day 2: Confessions of Levihan Week 2021

“But Levi,” Hange whines as she slumps her head on the back of her sofa and closes her eyes. “Kissing scenes are so tricky to write.”

Perhaps it’s the fact that it’s almost 5:30 in the morning. It could also be because he's tired from lack of sleep. Whatever the case, Levi Ackerman’s filter completely disappears when he asks, “Do you need a demonstration?”

Levi Ackerman can argue that every writer he’s met is always a little bit more eccentric than the average person, but no one proves his theory more than Hange Zoë.

Hange wakes him up in the middle of the night, voice screeching on the phone in her excitement. He responds groggily—as one does when their sleep is disturbed at an ungodly hour by an overly-excited author who acts as if they’ve just found out the answers to the universe—and tries to keep himself sober enough to understand what in the goddamn fuck Hange was talking about this time.

“Levaaiiii,” she says, drawling out his name in a manner that was both annoying and endearing, “I’ve figured it out!”

He can almost imagine the look on her face: starry-eyed in her joy, mouth stretched wide into a grin, fingers shaking as she bounces in glee, shifting her weight from the heels of her feet to the tips of her toes . . .

And Levi exhales in both relief and the tiniest hint of delight, because this is exactly how he wants Hange to be: happy .

Nevertheless, he replies “Figured what out?” snarkily.

Hange’s response comes out quickly, as if she needed to say everything that had to be said in the span of five seconds or less. “So you know how I’ve been trying to write a fiction novel because I wanted to get out of my comfort zone?”

Levi hums in acknowledgement as he fixes the covers over his legs before turning on his bedside lamp. He leans back on the bed frame and closes his eyes to listen to her ramble.

“So I was thinking, I wanted to write a romance novel, because you know how people fall in love and stuff?”

“No Hange, I’ve never heard of that concept in my entire life,” Levi says in a deadpan voice.

Hange laughs, because of course she would know that’s his pathetic attempt at lighthearted conversation. Levi is glad that she knows him better than most people, and it is this sense of familiarity that made him feel particularly comfortable when graced with her presence.

“Just because you’ve never fallen in love before doesn’t mean it’s not real, Levi!” Hange tells him in jest.

Wrong, Levi thinks.

“After all, you’ve probably never wanted to kiss someone your entire life!”

Wrong, Levi thinks.

“Sure, Hange.”

He rolls his eyes at her teasing, because yes, Levi has fallen in love—and maybe, just maybe, he’s still on the road to understanding what it meant to treasure someone far more than just a regular friend.

He shakes off such thoughts before maneuvering Hange back to the initial reason why she had called. “So, what did you want to tell me?”

“I finished,” she proclaims on the phone, her voice proud, “I finished writing the first ten chapters.”

Levi blinks in confusion before sitting straight up, the information processing in his mind that was still a bit drunk with sleep. “You what?” “I couldn’t stop writing,” Hange told him sheepishly, detecting the slightest hint of concern in her editor’s voice, “I’ve been writing for the past 24 or so hours. Maybe more.”

Levi grunts in annoyance, pulling the covers away from his body and jumping out of his unmade bed. He runs a hand through his dark locks, sighing. “Four-eyes, you need to get some sleep.”

“But Levi,” Hange says in protest, “I need you to read my draft. There are some parts I just don’t think are super natural.”

“And I was sleeping like a regular human being,” Levi retorted as he shrugged off his shorts. After that, he put on jeans that he had recently washed before patting down the shirt he was wearing in a pathetic attempt to get rid of the wrinkles that had accumulated while he tossed and turned in bed.

“Oh my gosh, Levi, I didn’t realize the time!” Hange replies, and he can almost feel her guilt starting to set in. “You should go back to sleep,” she immediately adds. “Take care of yourself!”

Levi slips on his rubber shoes and grabs his umbrella before answering. “Coming from you? Not that credible.”

Hange laughs light-heartedly, and his heart flutters just a tiny bit. Levi pushes the feeling away almost as quickly as it had come.

“Have you eaten?” he asks, almost dreading the reply.

There was none.

“Hange,” he calls, but there’s still no response. “Hange. Answer me,” he says firmly, prodding her on. “Have you eaten?”

The laughter that comes out from the other end is nervous. “Woops.”

Levi sighs. He opens his car door and slips inside smoothly, grabbing his keys from his pocket and starting the engine. “Hange, you’re supposed to eat.”

“Sorry,” she tells him honestly. “I really didn’t want to ruin my momentum. I can’t believe I forgot.” She mumbles her second sentence, sounding almost deep in thought. “I’ll go find food now! Want me to email you the working draft? You can look at it in the morning when you wake up.”

“No need,” Levi tells her, placing his phone on his dashboard and accelerating his car. “I’m on the way.”

“Levi!” Hange exclaimed excitedly as she heard her doorbell ring at around four in the morning.

She rushes to the door in delight, opening it to reveal Levi standing in front of her, a paper bag in his hand and a jacket half-heartedly slung over his shoulder.

“Hi,” he greets calmly, before walking inside and letting himself in.

Inwardly, Hange thanks whatever god is out there for her foresight. Her unit was relatively clean since she hadn’t really done anything since Levi’s last visit. The place seemed to pass Levi’s health protocols, since he sat on her couch and placed the paper bag on the table right across from him.

“Eat,” he tells her, crossing his arms over his chest.

Hange grins, before plopping down beside him and opening the paper bag. “What did you get me?”

“You’ll see.”

She raises an eyebrow at his ambiguity, before taking a glimpse inside the paper bag.

The smell of quesadillas immediately fills the room, and Hange lets out a soft squeal, taking out the food from the bag quickly.

“Oh my gosh,” Hange says as she nudges him on the shoulder. “You also got me onion rings! You know me too well, Levi.”

“Unfortunately,” Levi responds sarcastically, and Hange laughs almost automatically.

As Hange hums in glee, picking apart the paper wrapped around the food items, Levi maintains his silence. They stay like that as Hange eats. Every so often, she would comment about how the amount of cheese was perfect and how the onion rings just about melted in her mouth. Levi alternates between watching her eat and scrolls through his phone placidly.

Soon, he chooses to break the silence. “So where’s your draft?”

Hange is munching on her last piece of quesadilla when she glances in his direction. “Oh, it’s on my laptop! I can’t believe I forgot to tell you, this food was just so good.”

Levi stands up and heads on over to Hange’s room, gently pushing the door open and scanning the area for her laptop. On top of her unmade bed was a half open Macbook Pro, which he gently took before returning to his seat beside Hange.

Without hesitation, Levi opens the laptop and inputs the password. For some reason, Hange made it his birthday—1225—because she claimed that no one would guess such a random date. He is greeted with a blaring Google Docs document entitled “a;lskfjdk.”

“Nice title you got there,” he comments, and Hange chuckles.

“I didn’t want to think of a title yet, okay!” Hange pouts, and Levi nudges her foot gently in an attempt to comfort her from his own teasing.

He scans the document first before reading it. Hange is a good writer, but fiction is an entirely new genre for her. Immediately, he notices common habits from writing research papers leak into her new work: overexplaining, using words that are too formal for her target audience, sentences a little bit void from emotion.

He takes note of these comments on her notes app before going over her draft again, this time more meticulously than he had done previously. During this time, Hange finishes eating, wraps her trash and tosses them all inside the paper bag before standing up and dumping the entire thing inside her garbage bin.

“Levi,” she calls as she washes her hands through the sink faucet. Levi gives her the smallest hint that he’s listening by raising his eyebrow, but he doesn’t take his gaze away from her laptop. “I’m going to take a shower,” she announces, and he waves his hand dismissively.

Hange smiles to herself. Levi is always nagging her whenever she would accidentally hyperfixate on her writing, but he acts the same way when reading her works.

When Hange stepped inside the shower, Levi was already conducting a deep dive in her third chapter. The gears in his head slowly begin to turn as he begins to analyze her work.

The story revolved around the tales of the people who went to the clinic. The first chapter was a brief introduction on who the main characters were: There’s Janelle, a bright-eyed psychologist whose passion influenced the people around her. Together with El and Bea, her trusted assistants studying under her guidance, they would aid the people who went to the Hopiatria Clinic seeking care.

Meanwhile, the second chapter featured a child who felt as if she was being blamed for the death of her mother by her father. Her mother had died in a plane crash shortly after the young girl wished that her mom could go home on her sixth birthday. Janelle talks to the child gently while El and Bea provide emotional support, offering the child toys and biscuits whenever the need arises.

The third chapter was trickier, and it was there that Levi noticed a twist in Hange’s writing. The story revolved around a boy busy getting her doctorate, and a young girl who had been in love with him ever since they were in college. It’s the young girl who comes to Janelle’s office, and she relays the tale of her unrequited childhood romance to the psychologist.

The young girl is passionate, and wanted to take a step forward in order to guide her towards falling out of love with her best friend. Janelle presents two suggestions: (1) confession, while being fully-open to the possibility of rejection, and (2) accepting rejection without confession. The young girl decides to go with the first option, but to her surprise, the boy returns her feelings.

Everything seemed well-written up until the end of the chapter, where Hange had written,

And then they kissed.

Levi scrolled down the page, tilting his head to the side in slight confusion. That’s it? He thought, trying to find the rest.

Everything had been so well-described; from the girl’s internal turmoil—caused by her fear of destroying their friendship and the pain that came with unrequited love—to the boy confessing his own emotions for her.

The ending was anticlimactic, to say the least.

As he blinked at the google document in confusion, already typing out his comment on her notes app, Hange emerged from the bathroom. Her hair was loose on her shoulders, wet from her shower. Wrapped around her waist is his bathrobe, which she had borrowed from him long ago and never bothered to return it.

Levi scoffs as he glances in her direction. Here she was, parading with the cloth on and rubbing that specific fact in his face.

“Hey,” Hange greeted, smiling as she ran a hand through her brown locks, “How’s the reading going?”

“It was okay until the third chapter,” Levi says honestly, pointing the laptop screen in her direction. “The ending’s anticlimactic.”

Hange hummed, pursing her lips together. “Yeah. I didn’t really know how to end it,” she tells him as she opens her cabinet and grabs a few pieces of clothing. “Give me a bit, I’m going to change.”

She disappears into her room and Levi focuses on her story, trying to think of a way to spur Hange on and perhaps actively improve the ending’s writing.

Hange emerges in a loose t-shirt (which was, once again, his) and shorts. She sits down right beside him, leaning over his shoulder to glance at her laptop and read the specific line that particularly irked Levi.

“It’s that one, right?” Hange asks, pointing at the last sentence. “And then they kissed.”

“Yeah,” Levi responds, shaking his head. “Everything was so well-written up ‘till that point. You were able to describe the emotions perfectly, and the narration’s not that bad . . save for a few paragraphs that maybe should’ve stayed in your research papers.”

Hange chuckles. “Old habits die hard,” she responds, before taking her Macbook from his lap and transferring it to hers. “So what should I write?”

Levi shrugs. “I’m just your editor. You’re the writer.”

Hange pouts. “Yeah, but I don’t know how to make this better.”

“Maybe describe the scene more,” Levi suggests. “Everything ended so abruptly. Every emotion you’ve created and built disappeared in that one line.”

She nods in agreement. “But Levi,” Hange whines as she slumps her head on the back of her sofa and closes her eyes. “Kissing scenes are so tricky to write.”

Perhaps it’s the fact that it’s almost 5:30 in the morning. It could also be because he's tired from lack of sleep. Whatever the case, Levi Ackerman’s filter completely disappears when he asks, “Do you need a demonstration?”

Hange’s eyes shoot open immediately, and Levi’s face turns red just as quickly.

“F-Forget it,” he says, interrupting her just when he saw Hange open her mouth to speak. Any semblance of calm in his body disappears immediately, and his heart starts pounding against his chest in a rhythm that reminds him too much of a beating drum.

Hange, however, looks elated.

“You want to kiss me?” she tells him in excitement, blinking at him. “I’d like that. It could help me write this scene, you know.”

Levi looks away. “It was just a spur of the moment question.”

“So, you’re not going to kiss me?”

He actively avoids her gaze because he can already see from his peripheral vision that she looks sad, disappointed even. He grunts in response, closing his eyes and focusing his attention on a random spot on the wall.

“Oh,” Hange replies, “Well, I thought it was a good idea.”

Contrary to popular belief, Levi does want to kiss Hange. More than anything.

There were many reasons why: Because she looks so handsome and beautiful at the same time, and her very smile could light up any room she’d walk into. Because she says his name in the most endearing way. Because she understands his flaws. Because she has one of the kindest hearts he’s ever seen. Because she welcomes him with open arms, not a single thread of hesitation in her mind.

Most of all, it was simply because she was Hange.

He steals a glance in her direction, and she’s slightly fiddling with the hem of his shirt, her head downcast. Her sad expression tugs at hi

Levi thinks he’s already in this too deep, so he decides to speak.

“Did you want me to kiss you?”

From his periphery, he sees her look up at him so quickly he thought her neck would break. “What would you do if I said yes?”

He doesn’t dare turn his head in her direction when he replies quietly, “What do you think?”

“Would you kiss me?” Hange asks inquisitively, tilting her head to the side.

Levi’s heart skips a beat.

“Maybe,” he says in a voice barely above a whisper. “If you’d let me.”

Hange is silent for a moment, and Levi thinks this is it, I’m going to be rejected, but he feels a gentle finger touch his chin and turn his head in Hange’s direction.

He is met with her brown orbs, shining just a bit in what seemed like hidden glee. He cocks an eyebrow at her then, confused.

“I’m letting you,” Hange says, laughing. “Kiss me, I mean.” Her face is already slowly nearing his, and he can almost see the way her thick lashes brushed against her skin.

Slowly, Levi raises his head just a tiny bit and responds against her lips, “Okay.”

Hange smiles and closes the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his neck as he does the same around her waist. She tastes like the peppermint of her toothpaste, smells like his shampoo (which he had kept in her apartment since he always found himself staying over), and felt warm as her skin made contact with his. Hange's lips are gentle, slow, and a little shy—so different from how she usually is. Levi knows it’s because she doesn’t want to scare him off, so he makes the first move and nips at her lower lip, taking it between his teeth and sucking it gently.

She lets out a moan, and Levi takes this as a sign to continue. He slides his hand over her back, and she shudders and deepens the kiss at the same time. Her tongue meets his, and they battle for dominance. Hange’s hand sweeps over his undercut and pushes him towards him, and it is then that he lets out a sound that vaguely resembles pleasure.

After a few minutes, Hange whispers “Levi,” as her lips make contact with his. He hums in response, pulling his lips away from her and connecting his forehead with hers.

“Hange,” he says, breathless.

“Is this you telling me you like me?” Hange asks, closing her eyes.

He doesn’t form a reply through words, but he nods and closes his eyes as well.

“Great,” Hange tells him, pecking his lips with her own. “Because I like you too. Ever since I met you, I’ve liked you. Even though you were so rude to me on the first day of college.”

He chuckles silently in relief, pulling her closer to him before placing his chin on her shoulder. “Think you’ll be able to write the ending now that you know what a kiss feels like?”

Hange laughs, and it vibrates against his shoulder as she hugs him tighter. “It’s exhilarating. I probably wouldn’t be able to put into words how good I feel that you like me back.”

“Try,” Levi teases.

“Well . . . you know that alternative title I wrote for the fictional novel?”

Levi’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “The keyboard smash?”

Hange nods. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I feel like right now.”

a;lskfjdk.

#levihan #levi x hange #levihanweek 2021 #LHW 2021 #LHWeek Day 2

[feathersandfoxtails]

I'll Keep You Warm

Pairing: Alvie/reader, gender neutral reader Rating: Teen (swearing, implied sex) Words: 5K

Summary: A chance encounter brings Alvie into your life right before Christmas.

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Notes: This was originally written for Beezie's Christmas Countdown. Originally I posted 200 words per day based on daily prompts. This is the compilation of the 25 days. also please enjoy my terrible photoshops.

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also on AO3

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Why you decided to take that big, dumb dog with you shopping that morning, you’ll never know. But you’re certainly glad that you did. You had been cooped up with your sister’s dog while she was out of town and figured he could use a walk. Since you wanted to go to the open air markets, you didn’t think it would be a problem for him to come with.

But as you’re waiting for your coffee order, he pulls the leash out of your hand. You turn and watch him tackle a man in a red hoodie. “Reginald!” you scream after him and rush over. When you pull the giant dog off the man, you see the bagel in the dog’s mouth. “Bad dog!” You try to take the bagel away, but Reginald refuses to relinquish it. Hearing a groan, you look back at the man and find him clutching his wrist.

“Shit! Are you okay? Oh fuck, your wrist is swelling! I’ll get a cab to take you to the hospital.”

“No, no, it’s fine! I—” He winces in pain.

“I’ll pay for everything; don’t worry about it.” You flag down a cab and help him into it.

🎄

After you drop the dog off at home, you catch a cab to the hospital. Realizing you didn’t ask the man’s name, it takes a while to track him down through the emergency room. When you find him, he’s in an exam room with a bandage on his wrist.

“I’m sorry that my dog tackled you for your bagel—I swear I feed them. Anyway, I got you a balloon from the hospital gift shop.” Awkwardly, you hold out the cheery mylar balloon with Get Well Soon!imprinted on it.

He takes it. “Thanks. And it’s cool, really.”

“How’s your wrist?”

“Sprained. Doc said it’ll be fine in like a week.”

“Again, I am so sorry. I mean it—I’ll pay for everything. It’s not even my dog—he’s my sister’s.”

“He looked cute. Can’t blame him for wanting that bagel—it was a really good one.”

“There’s a bagel shop around the corner. They have these seasonal gingerbread bagels. Can I take you there once you get released?”

He gives you a wide, goofy grin and you’re struck with the thought that he’s certainly cute.

“Yeah. Totally.”

You tell him your name.

“Juan Alvarez, but everybody calls me Alvie.”

🎄

You and Alvie walk to a bench near the Christmas market, his balloon tied to his wrist.

“Wow, this is even better than the bagel your dog stole! You should save a bite for him.”

You laugh. “No way! After he injured you, Reggie doesn’t deserve a treat.”

Alvie waves his hand. “I don’t blame him. Dogs do their thing. Plus, I got to meet you, so that’s nice. Because you’re really nice.”

“Thanks, I think you’re nice, too.” You can feel your cheeks heating up and you take a bite of your bagel to hide it.

“I love just watching people go by, don’t you? And this time of year people seem happier than normal. Though I guess some of them are kinda stressed.”

“Yeah, the holidays can be hard for some people. Do you have family around?”

“Nah, just me. My mom died when I was little and my dad split before that. You have a sister?”

You nod. “Haley. And my nephew, Theo. He’s seven.”

He bounces up. “Look at these! Would he like a stuffie?” He holds one out to you.

You gasp. “I love penguins! They’re just so round and cute.”

“Then this one’s yours.”

🎄

“I still don’t think that dog deserves anything after spraining your wrist!”

“Of course Reginald needs a present, too—don’t be ridiculous!” Alvie holds up the stocking filled with dog toys and treats.

You smile and add it to the pile of gifts you’ve bought for your sister and nephew.

“Oh, this would be perfect for Three Kings Day!” You turn around and see Alvie wearing an ornate crown. When he strikes a pose, you laugh and almost drop the presents.

“Let me help you carry those.”

“You’ve only got one good arm!” Finding yourself not wanting your time with Alvie to end, you say, “But if you’re up for it, I could use help wrapping these…”

“That would be fun! I just gotta grab my stuff quick—I can’t leave it there all day.”

You follow him to a nearby building where you wait as he goes inside. It takes you a minute to realize this is a homeless shelter.

When Alvie returns with a duffel bag and sees the look on your face, he seems embarrassed. “I’m just kinda between places right now.”

“Oh.” You’re not sure what to say, so you just lead him to your apartment.

🎄

Though Alvie is enthusiastic about wrapping, his skills leave something to be desired. So you let him curate the holiday music because you’re really enjoying watching him sing and dance around your studio apartment.

"Christmas music just makes me happy, you know?"

You look down at the gift you're working on.

"You don't like Christmas music? We can listen to something else—"

"No, I do like it. It's just that Christmas sometimes makes me a little sad because my parents aren't around anymore. I—I have depression."

He crouches beside you. "I get that feeling sometimes, too. But I’m manic so hey—we can even each other out!”

You can’t help but laugh with him.

“You on meds? They’ve helped me a lot.”

“Yeah, I am.” You bite your lip. “Is that why you stay at the shelter?”

“I been in and out of the hospital, so it’s tough to find a job.”

The idea pops into your head and out of your mouth, “Stay with me.”

“No way, I don’t wanna ruin your holidays. That’s not what you want for Christmas.”

"I don't want anything else; I want you to be here."

“Really?” You smile and nod. “Okay.”

🎄

.

When you come home from work, Alvie bounds in front of you, wrapped in a blanket. “I got you a present!”

He holds out a paper bag. Inside you find a sweater with a penguin on it. “It’s so cute!” you squeal.

He throws off his blanket, revealing his matching one. You laugh and change into yours.

“Thank you—I love it! But you don’t have to buy anything for me.”

“I didn’t. I just want to say thanks for letting me stay with you.”

“You didn’t… buy them?”

He bites his lip. “I thought it would make you happy.”

“Alvie, I appreciate the thought, really. But don’t steal things, okay? If you need money you can ask me.”

“I’m going to earn my own money.”

“Okay.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“No, it’s okay.”

Abruptly he lunges to hug you, holding you tightly. You smile, your chin on his shoulder.

When he lets go, you say, “Hey, I had an idea—wanna go look at all the Christmas lights?”

Alvie claps his hands. “Yes! That would be awesome!”

Walking around your neighborhood, the lights are beautiful. But not as beautiful as Alvie’s face as he takes them all in.

🎄

While you are watching a movie with Alvie, everything suddenly goes dark. You yelp and reach for Alvie’s hand.

He asks, “What happened?”

“Shit—the power must have gone out. That happens sometimes, but usually not in the winter!”

Alvie helps you gather candles and strategically place them around the apartment. “It’s kinda pretty in here.” He looks at your apprehensive face. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I know; I’m just worried about it being too cold tonight.”

“I’ll be fine; I’m used to it.” Your heart breaks a little at this comment. “We’ll pile all the blankets on top of you.”

“I don’t want you to be cold, either.” You look at the couch where he normally sleeps. “If you want—just for tonight—you could sleep in my bed. So we both stay warm enough.”

He smiles. “That sounds nice. As long as you’re all right with it.”

“Well, I suggested it,” you laugh.

Alvie brings the extra blankets and snuggles in with you. Your bodies fit together easily and you quickly drift off. When the lights come on hours later, you turn them off and return to bed. Alvie sighs contentedly and pulls you in close again.

🎄

Alvie is rolling around on the floor with your nephew, Theo, and the dog, Reginald. You stand in the kitchen with your sister, Haley, and watch the chaos.

“Okay, so you told me how you met, but how did he end up staying with you?”

“Well your dog almost broke his wrist and he didn’t have anywhere to stay…”

“Reggie is a menace, but I don’t want you to be taken advantage of.”

“I’m not, really.”

She sips her coffee and gives you a dubious look. When there is a lull in the noise, she asks, “Alvie what do you do?”

“I freestyle!”

“What’s that?”

Alvie stands up.

This dog tackled me

But I don’t blame him

Cos we both agree

That bagel was the best

In this whole damn city

Theo giggles, but your sister stares blankly.

“Damn, tough crowd.” He shrugs and joins the melee on the floor again.

“Well, he does seem to be good with kids,” Haley says.

“It’s been nice having him stay with me. He helps me around the apartment.”

“You don’t need help in that tiny place.”

“Well, then… he’s been good for my mental health.”

She takes your hand. “Just be careful.”

🎄

When you come home from work, you find Alvie hiding under a mound of blankets on the couch.

“Alvie, what’s up?” You approach slowly and sit on the couch.

“Too much paperwork.”

“What do you mean?”

An arm extends from the blankets and points to the coffee table. There are several pieces of paper and you see they’re job applications.

“Alvie, that’s great that you’re applying for jobs! Can I help you?”

The tip of his nose appears. “No, I’m giving up.”

You take one of the papers. “It looks like you got pretty far on this one.”

“Doesn’t matter; nobody wants to hire me, anyway.”

“Hey, I’m sure that’s not true.” After putting the paper back down, you wrap your arms around the Alvie-shaped blanket pile. “Come on, let’s finish these together and I can do practice interviews with you.”

Finally his face fully emerges. “Yeah?”

You nod. “Here, let’s start where you left off on this one…”

“I don’t have an address.”

“Yes, you do—you’re living here, aren’t you? Now, let’s figure out which of your past jobs are relevant to each of these.”

At last he smiles and presses his forehead against your shoulder. “Thank you.”

🎄

To celebrate dropping off Alvie's job applications, you take him to the local park that hosts winter activities every evening.

"Do you want some hot apple cider?" You point to the sign from a local brewery.

"Only if they have alcohol-free; I'm not supposed to drink with my meds."

They do, so you get two cups, watching the steam rise from them as Alvie sniffs his.

“You didn’t need to get yours without booze.”

You shrug. “I don’t need to drink to have fun.”

As you drink your cider, you watch some kids playing in the snow. Then Alvie exclaims, "Oooo, they have free ice skating!" He grabs your hand and pulls you over to the rink.

After you get skates in both your sizes, you step on the ice together. "Do you know how to skate?" you ask.

"A little. You?"

You vigorously shake your head. "Ice skating is a ridiculous thing to do-- no, do NOT let go of my hand!" You cling to Alvie to stay upright. He laughs and assures you it will be fine.

After a while you get the hang of it and glide around the rink together, Alvie never letting go of you.

🎄

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You normally didn't have a Christmas tree in your little apartment, but Alvie seems so excited about the prospect that you give in. After paying a ridiculous amount of money to a nearby tree lot, he helps you get it home. Haley gives you some old ornaments and you pick up a few shiny baubles from the store.

As you wrestle with the lights, Alvie dances around to Feliz Navidad.

"Not this fucking song again!" You screech.

"But it's so good to dance to! I thought you liked it?" He pouts.

"I liked it the first couple times you played it but now it's getting old. Put on something else!"

Alvie huffs, but changes the music. You finally plug the lights in and see Alvie's brown eyes sparkle at the sight. Together you hang the ornaments all over the branches. When you finish, you make cocoa with marshmallows and sit on the couch with Alvie.

He puts his arm around you. "Looks pretty great, doesn't it?"

“Yeah, it does. But you don’t have much room in here now.” You stretch out your foot and touch a branch, the ornament on it bobbing.

“I’ll trade space for Christmas cheer any day.”

🎄

Both of you are feeling cooped up in the tiny apartment, so you go out for dinner. Knowing Alvie can't drink, you pick a family place instead of a microbrewery like you normally would.

The place is loud, but the food is good. You both order pasta and laugh at each other when you invariably get marinara on your shirts.

As you're waiting for the check, Alvie spots a claw machine in the corner. "Oooo, I'm pretty good at those!"

He runs over and fishes some crumpled bills out of his pants. After you pay the check, you join him as he's in the process of trying to catch a cute bear with a bow on it. But as soon as the claw grabs it, it drops back down.

Alvie bangs his palm against the plexiglass. “If I don’t get this teddy bear right now, I will die.”

"That's a little too dramatic for this situation."

“Whatever.” He stalks back to the table you were at, but it’s already being cleared. He looks at you. “You paid?”

You nod.

“Let me pay you back…” His pockets are empty. “Fucking claw machine.”

He stomps out of the restaurant and you follow.

🎄

You catch up to Alvie on the sidewalk. “Are you okay?”

He keeps walking and doesn’t say anything.

“Alvie…”

When he stops you move in front of him and see the tears streaming down his cheeks. He turns his face away and wipes at his nose with the back of his hand. “I’m not your charity case; I don’t want your pity.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t want you to have to pay for everything, but I’m broke and useless! I can’t do anything right. I couldn’t even win a stupid teddy bear for you.” He covers his face with his palms. “Why do you even want me around?”

“Hey, I want you around because I like you.” You take his hands in yours. “You didn’t see me before—I was sad all the time and never left my apartment except to go to work. And I took so many days off because I couldn’t think of a reason to get out of bed. We’re helping each other, okay?”

He sniffs and nods. “I really need a hug.”

Wrapping your arms around him, you hold him as tightly as you can and he does the same for you.

🎄

As you're walking home, you hear someone shouting your name and see Alvie running down the sidewalk towards you.

"I got a job!!" he shouts.

"Seriously? That's awesome!" You grab his hands and swing each other around. "Which one?"

"Wrapping shipments at the candle store. It's just for the holidays, but they said they might need someone after that, so if I do well it could be longer..."

"I'm sure you'll be great at it. I'm so proud of you."

He beams and lets out a whoop before jumping on the nearby lamppost. He tries to swing on it, but he immediately loses his grip, falling into the street. You yelp and run after him as a car narrowly misses him and honks its horn.

Pulling him back onto the sidewalk, you tell him, "That was really dangerous— you're an idiot!"

He rubs his shoulder. “I know, I just got so excited. I wanted to do like a Gene Kelly move.”

“Singin’ in the Rain?”

“It used to play in the hospital all the time. Oh, I got you this. To say thanks.” He pulls a candy cane from his pocket, the hook broken. He gives you a crooked smile.

🎄

At your office Christmas party, most of your coworkers are drinking too much on top of eating a massive amount of rum cake. Why this is still a Corporate America tradition, you will never know. You brought Alvie along, both to have backup and because you never bring anyone to these parties. Everyone always gets decked out in holiday attire, so you and Alvie are wearing matching reindeer antler headbands.

“Your boyfriend’s pretty entertaining,” Linda tells you.

“Oh, he’s just my friend.”

“Of course,” she replies, but winks at you.

You find Alvie across the room, nursing a can of coke. “How are you doing?”

He smiles. “It’s all good—your coworkers are really nice.”

“They are, but I want to get out of here before they get even drunker.”

“Copy that!” He takes one last chug of his soda, then goes to find your coats.

You say goodbye, telling everyone Alvie has to work early the next day.

Outside, you take Alvie’s arm. “Thanks for being my out; parties are sometimes too much for me.”

“Any time. I had fun.”

As you walk, Alvie points out different decorations and you marvel at how his eyes sparkle in the lights.

🎄

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You’ve gotten into a routine where Alvie assists you with dinner every night and it’s become your favorite part of the day.

He stares into the pot and takes a big whiff. “Wow, that smells good. I don’t even like soup… unless you make it.”

Your cheeks heat up. “So you’re liking the job?”

“Totally! Everybody there is super nice and I just get to box up candles all day long and listen to music.” He wiggles his fingers in the air. “I always do best when my hands stay busy.”

You laugh and continue stirring the soup.

“And if they keep me after the holidays, I can save up for my own place and get out of your hair.”

“Oh.” Suddenly your chest feels tight. “You can stay as long as you need to—I like having you here.”

“I know, I just don’t want to outstay my welcome.”

“You could never.”

He hugs you and you hold on longer than you normally would, taking in the feeling of his stubble against your cheek and the way he smells like wax and cinnamon. But no matter how long you hold on, Alvie always hugs you back a second longer.

🎄

Taking a nighttime walk together, you see kids having a snowball fight in the park.

“I’d totally own you in a snowball fight.”

“Oh, you think so?” Alvie scoops up some snow from the ground.

“DON’T YOU DARE.”

He just shrugs and drops the snow, wiping his wet hands on his pants.

You shiver and pull your hat further down over your ears. Alvie does the same with his.

The sidewalks are so slippery you resort to trying to slide your feet instead of taking steps. Alvie grabs your arm as he almost falls.

You shriek, “Don’t take me down with you!”

“Don’t worry—I’ll break your fall!”

You both just break down in giggles, which makes you both slip more. So now you’re clinging to each other, trying to stay upright. Soon you recover and you find yourself staring into his deep brown eyes. He gives you that beautiful lop-sided smile of his and all other thoughts leave your head. All of a sudden you’re feeling much warmer all over.

“Think we can make it home?” he whispers.

“Only if we help each other.”

You proceed to slide in time together, holding onto the other’s arm for dear life.

🎄

“Don’t you think it’s about time for a love confession?”

You nearly spit out your cocoa. “What do you mean?”

Your sister raises one eyebrow and looks towards the living room, where Alvie is helping Theo put together one of his new toys. You’re celebrating Christmas with Haley early as Theo will be spending the week with his father.

“He’s just my friend,” you say.

“More of a roommate at this point.”

Alvie and Theo are making up a Christmas rap together, and you smile at them.

“See? I see the way you look at him.”

“What? They’re being cute.”

“Alvie’s cute.”

You take another sip and don’t look at her.

“Say it. Say Alvie’s cute.”

Knowing she won’t let up, you mumble, “Alvie’s cute.”

“Hmpf. Knew it.” She looks proud of herself.

“Mom, come listen to the rap we made!” Theo calls.

Settled in the living room by the fireplace, you watch as Alvie beatboxes for Theo's rap. When they finish, you clap and holler while Theo high-fives Alvie. Then Theo jumps on his mom for a hug while Alvie sits next to you.

“That was great!”

“Thanks!” He puts his arm around your shoulders.

Haley winks at you.

🎄

“What are you making?” All sorts of craft supplies are strewn atop the coffee table. Alvie is holding a paintbrush and has a little dab of green paint on his cheek.

“Ornaments!” He holds one up that’s shaped like a bone. “This one’s for Reginald.”

“I still don’t understand why you love that dog so much.”

“He’s my buddy! Plus he basically introduced us, so I owe him.”

You laugh, but also feel warmth spread through your chest. “Who else are you making ornaments for?”

“This one’s for my old roomie, House. I have one for my cousin and one for Haley. I’m making you one, too, but you can’t see yours yet!”

“That’s fair.” You cough and blow your nose.

“Are you getting sick?” Alvie asks.

“Oh, no. I think it’s the dry air making me cough and I just came in from outside, which always makes my nose run.”

Alvie gives you a concerned look. “Well, take it easy just in case.”

“Alvie, I’m fine, really!” You cough again. “I just need some water.”

“I’ll get you some.” He goes to the kitchen.

Under some supplies you see a heart-shaped ornament and find yourself hoping it’s for you.

🎄

Alvie lifts the thermometer. “Yeah, that seems high.”

“I run hot—it’s fine.”

“Just stay here on the couch and I’ll bring you whatever you need.”

“No, I gotta get ready for work—”

“You are sick and I’m taking care of you—end of discussion. Now call work and tell them you’re not coming in.”

You can see there’s no arguing with him and your head really doesn’t feel right, so you follow his instructions.

“Do you wanna get some sleep?”

“No, let’s watch a movie. Something Christmas-y.”

“You’re the sickie, so you get to pick.”

Looking through the options, you say, “Oooo, Gremlins!”

Alvie scoffs. “That is not a Christmas movie.”

“It is so! The part where the woman opens her door and the gremlins are caroling? Christmas classic.”

“Fine. But I’m only agreeing because you’re sick.”

As the movie starts, he moves closer to you and puts a blanket over the both of you.

“Maybe keep your distance; I don’t want you to get sick, too.”

“Nah, cuddles are always nice, but especially when you’re sick.” He puts his arm around you and kisses the side of your head.

You can’t concentrate on the movie after that.

🎄

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Haley brings over a bunch of festive ribbons from her craft stash for Alvie to use as ornament hangers.

“These are great; thank you so much!”

“No problem.”

Alvie bounces off to the living room.

“How are you feeling?”

You shrug. “A lot better. Thankfully it was a short cold.”

“Did your nurse make you all better?” she says suggestively.

You smack her arm and look to see if Alvie heard, but he’s engrossed in tying ribbons on his ornaments.

“Gotta run!” Haley waves and leaves.

“Which ribbon looks better with this one?” Alvie holds them up and walks towards you.

You step closer. “The blue one.”

“What’s that?” Alvie is looking above your head.

Looking up, you see mistletoe directly above you. Haley must have hung it while you were distracted.

“Uh… mistletoe?”

He looks right in your eyes and you already feel yourself melting.

“Rules are rules.” He leans in and kisses you. His lips are incredibly soft; his goatee tickles your skin. He holds his lips against yours longer than just a friendly peck.

Then he jumps up, tearing down the mistletoe. “I’m gonna hide this somewhere and surprise you.”

Running after him, you scream, “Alvie! No!”

🎄

Once you put the last batch of cookies in the oven, you head over to the couch where Alvie is curled under the blanket. He lifts it for you and you quickly jump under it. Cookies seemed like a great idea because it is so cold today that the inside of your windows have frost on them. The oven is helping keep you warm even though the heat is cranked all the way up.

“Sorry my apartment sucks so much.”

“It’s great.” Alvie glomps onto you, his arms and legs wrapped over you. You feel warmth everywhere and look up at him. “Warmer?” he asks.

You just nod, lost in those beautiful eyes. He smiles at you and nudges his nose against yours. You can hear both of your breathing change as he tilts his head and leans in closer, lips parted.

The oven timer beeps loudly and you jump up. “The cookies!” You run into the kitchen and take the cookies out, willing your heart to slow down.

As you finish putting the cookies on the cooling rack, Alvie wordlessly wraps the blanket and himself around you from behind. Leaving the oven on, you stand and eat cookies together.

🎄

After you get home from work, you plop on the couch next to Alvie. “Whoo, holiday break time!”

“What are you doing for Christmas Eve tomorrow? Are you hanging out with Haley?”

You shrug. “We talked about maybe doing lunch on Christmas Day, but that’s it. We already did our gift exchange with Theo. The years he’s at his dad’s are usually pretty low-key.”

“I haven’t given her my ornament yet.”

“Well, you can do it on Christmas Day; that will be nice.”

He fidgets. “I don’t want to be a bother to you; I can find someplace else to be for the holidays.”

“Alvie, what are you talking about?”

"You should be with who you love on Christmas. I don’t want to get in the way—"

"Maybe you're the one that I love."

Alvie’s eyes widen and you clamp your hand over your mouth.

Alvie says your name, a confused look on his face, mouth hanging open. That’s all the response you need.

You shake your head and run into your bedroom, shutting the door. A few moments later Alvie knocks, but you don’t say anything. Burying your head in your pillow, you cry until you fall asleep.

🎄

You avoid Alvie all day, only returning home when all the shops close early for Christmas Eve.

When he sees you, Alvie jumps up. “Where were you? I was worried!” He takes your hands and then looks up.

Following his eyes, you see the mistletoe. “I thought we threw that away…”

“I dug it out.” He kisses you and this time there is no mistaking it for only friendly.

Breathlessly, he asks, “Did you mean it?”

You don’t have to ask what he’s referring to. Cautiously, you nod.

His smile is the biggest and brightest you have ever seen. He kisses you again, pulling you against him.

“I was too surprised to say anything yesterday. I didn’t think there was any chance you felt the same way I did.”

Tears spring to your eyes. “Of course I do!” You take his lovely face in your hands and lose yourself in his lips.

Soon you lead him to the bedroom. You’re both tentative yet tender, learning each other’s touch and how to make one another cry out with joy.

Later as you’re falling asleep in his arms, he kisses the top of your head. “I love you,” he whispers. “Merry Christmas.”

🎄

When Haley comes over on Christmas Day, you don’t need to say anything. She knows the minute she sees both your faces.

“HA! I KNEW IT!” She does a triumphant dance while you shake your head. “Also I’m really, really happy for you two. But also I fucking called it!”

Alvie gives the ornaments he made to you and Haley. Yours is heart-shaped, with yours and Alvie’s names on it and the year. “But you made this like a week ago…”

He shrugs. “I had high hopes, I guess.”

You kiss him and your sister says, “Awww, let me take a picture of you two.”

Alvie puts his arm around your shoulders and you smile as Haley captures this moment.

“Our first picture together,” he says.

“First of many,” you reply.

Alvie opens your gift—a new keychain tucked inside a winter beanie.

When he holds up the keychain, you say, “Because you’re not going anywhere.”

In the evening, after Haley leaves, you’re snuggling on the couch with Alvie. He nuzzles your neck. “This is my best Christmas ever.”

“Mine, too.”

He sighs contentedly. “This feels like home.”

“The apartment?”

“Yes. But mostly you. Wherever you are is my home.”

🎄

#juan alvarez #alvie #alvie x reader #alvie x you #house md #fanfiction #fic #house md fic #lin-manuel miranda #lin-manuel miranda fic #gender neutral #christmas fic #reader insert #gender neutral reader

[everlarkficexchange]

Clubbing 101

Written by @alliswell21

Prompt 144: She has a night of fun before the start of the semester. She meets this guy, they hit it off that they sleep together. But when she shows up to her class the next day, she sees the guy again. But he’s her professor and he’s way older than she originally thought. #olderPeeta [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Rating: Explicit. NSFW. 

Tags and Warnings: Canon Divergence; College!AU; Age gap, older man/younger woman; The opposite to slow burn? Smut; Unprotected sex; technically impaired consent since alcohol, but their both into each other while sober too 🤷🏻‍♀️; Ethical dilemmas; Teacher/Student relationship (sort of); One Shot, with an ambiguous open ending? Almost 10K words. Unbetaed. 

Notes: Thank you to the moderators once more for putting up with us, procrastinating writers. You gals are saints! Thank you to @animekpopxx for her amazing prompts that never fail to snag my attention and give me the best ideas ever! You rock! I projected this story to be a smutty short thing, but it sprouted words and a background out of nowhere and I had to forced myself to stop adding to it, to get back to my other submissions waiting in my docs. Hopefully, it’s a good read for the ones who take the chance with it. 

Thank you all! 

KPKPKPKPKP

It starts with a harmless ranting. 

“I’m not outgoing, or fun. I’m not even ‘cool’… hell, I don’t care what my sister says, I’m too old for this place!” I tell the handsome, bearded, guy sitting in the barstool next to me, “She’s a med student, you know, but she insists that partying is part of the college experience, especially when one’s career is so demanding… plus, is the last weekend of summer break, which apparently means you’re contractually obligated to party extra hard,” I roll my eyes, “I never saw the appeal personally, but I let her drag me out here so I can keep an eye on her. Is not like I’m gonna let her piss away her future for a night of clubbing,” I scoff, taking a long pull of my beer.

The guy chuckles, but I’m not done just yet. 

I slam down my bottle and continue listing my grievances, “The thing that grinds my gears, is that she begged for a ‘girls’ night out’, and instead of drinking with me and people watch, she goes off with the first fucker that asks her to dance! I mean… did it ever occur to her, I may want to dance with her on OUR girls’ night out?!” I scowl and gulp another mouthful of beer, “then, to add insult to injury, thirty minutes later I get a text from her, saying to go on home without her ‘cause she found a ride, followed by that cursed eggplant emoji, like I needed an illustration of what kind of ride she’s getting,” I mock gag, rearranging the strap of my tiny purse across my chest. 

 “I guess she’s young, and beautiful, and does work very hard, but if you invite me to go clubbing with you, don’t abandon me within the first 15 minutes of arriving!”

My companion winces before sipping his drink, and smiling ruefully, “That’s harsh… sorry you’re having a shitty night,”

“Meh… little sisters, right?!” I shrug. 

The guy smiles crookedly at me, and I find myself enjoying his smile, “I wouldn’t know about that. I’m the baby of three brothers, and the only thing I got away with was learning how to wrestle and spring awesome comebacks on the fly… the brutes kept me on my toes,” he chuckles. 

“Three boys? Sounds chaotic. Your poor mother!” 

“Yeah… life’s chaotic.” He averts his eyes for a second, his smile goes away. I’m afraid I’ve said something wrong, but he suddenly looks back at me, and confesses, “I’m not into clubbing either.” His eyes sparkle, despite the awful, dim, blue lights bathing the place. 

I smile, “Look at us wallflowers, bonding over drinks and sibling shenanigans,” we clink our drinks together and sip. I’m chatty and relaxed, so unlike myself; I guess the two beers I’ve had are starting to get to me. “I’m Katniss, by the way.”

“That’s pretty,” he says, shyly; makes my chest warm up. “Nice to meet you, Katniss. I’m Peeta.”

I arch my eyebrows, “Peter?” I repeat, because I’m pretty sure I miss-heard him over the obnoxiously loud music. 

The guy shakes his head, “Pee-ta… like the bread?” He chuckles. Then adds, “Family name. Everyone on my dad’s side are bakers.” 

I snort-laugh, “Punny!” I say, taking another sip. Yup, beer’s getting to me, I’m not this cleverly funny. “My dad was into survivalism and botany… I’m named after a plant also known as Duck Potato, so I win the weird name competition!” 

“Hey, it’s something else to bond over,”

“Cheers to that!” We clink our drinks again, and partake in our booze. 

He orders another whiskey neat when he’s out… sounds both snooty and distinguished at the same time. Goes well with his put together image, though: nicely trimmed beard, nicely combed hair, nice polo shirt with what I believe is a tiny loaf of bread embroidered on the chest, and dark-wash jeans… I think. It’s hard to tell under the black lights of the club. 

He offers to get me another drink, and I order an appletini.

“J.D. from Scrubs always drank one,” I explain, swirling the coctel in my hand, “I’ve always been curious to try, but didn’t wanna spend my own money experimenting on a drink I could potentially hate.” 

“Makes sense,” Peeta says, “So… what’s the verdict?” 

“Is pretty good, actually. But I think I’ll stick with my Miller Light,” 

Peeta nods, “I honestly don’t enjoy alcohol that much.”

I giggle. “Then, what brings you to this fine establishment tonight, sir, if you’re not much for clubbing, or drinking?” I watch him out of the corner of my eye. 

I like that when he smiles, his eyes crinkle in the corners.

“I lost a bet against a colleague.”

“Oh,” I’m suddenly self conscious and a little uncomfortable. I give the guy a scrutinizing look, and ask suspiciously, “what was the punishment exactly?” 

The man rolls his eyes. “I have to spend one whole hour in the club, without criticizing anything, like the bitter old man I am,” he grins, “My friend’s words. Not mine!” He raises both hands, claiming innocence. 

I laugh at the face he pulls, “Well, you’ve just defaulted on that punishment,”

“How so?” He beams. 

“With the look in your face! It spoke volumes!” 

“Am I that transparent?” 

“You read like a preschooler’s board book, pal!” 

We both laugh, I drink my beer, and he throws back his whiskey neat. 

“So…” he makes a show of looking at his watch, “I still have 33 minutes to kill before I’m allowed to run out of this place… I know I’m not a Med student, co-Ed, sister of yours, but… would you, um, like to dance with me?” He sounds adorably hopeful. 

I glance at the man sideways, toying with my bottle. 

He smirks, mischievously, “I promise, spirits make me more coordinated on the dance floor. I become this amazing dancer when I have a couple of drinks on… or so my brain believes. I probably look like an idiot, but I’m too goofy to know the difference. You’re welcome to be the judge it for yourself,”

I take my sweet time finishing the last dregs of my beer, and wrinkle my nose, “You sure you wanna dance to this shit, kids call music nowadays?” I smirk, pointing a finger up, motioning wide circles into the ether. 

Peeta gives a full belly laugh.

I really do like his laugh! 

“Isn’t it our only choice?” He ventures. 

Not if you follow me home, my thirsty brain supplies; my lips on the other hand, just let through a hint of a smile, because I’m buzzed, but not drunk enough to proposition a total stranger. I’ve never been one to sleep around anyway.

“Okay,” I say, too enthused. “As long as we both agree that this isn’t music,”

“Oh no, this just barely passes as noise!” Peeta agrees readily. 

He guides me to the packed dance floor, and we start moving to the booming, deafening tunes playing overhead. 

I’m not sure if one could call this dancing. Everywhere I look people are writhing against each other, like a pack of zombies without grace or rhyme. 

I’m not sure Peeta will get an accurate assessment of his dancing skills, compared to what I’m seeing, he’ll probably look like a professional; plus, it’s too dark and busy in here to really appreciate anything, really, but after a few minutes of just shifting in place, robotically, I snatch two bottle beers from a waitress walking by, offering one to my partner, hoping that’s enough to get us loosen up. The waitress stares at me until I rummage on my crossbody mini purse and toss a crumple ten on her tray. 

The liquid boost works. Before I know it, I’m grinding my hips against his. Peeta’s just the right height for his thigh to fit between my legs and brush against my front. I get tired of undulating my arms in the air, so I drop them around his shoulders, and feel just how firm and broad he is under my touch. 

Our chests are tightly pressed together, and I’m at the right angle to just stare at his plush-looking lips. I turn around before I do something brash, like kiss him in the mouth. Peeta doesn’t question it, he just places his hands on my hips, and starts moving to the music’s beat. 

I bring the beer to my lips, but the bottle’s empty… oops! It doesn’t matter, I’m having the time of my life! 

Peeta’s swaying guides me. I basically drape my back over his front, and bump my ass into his groin. I feel the hint of a bulge there, and press my rear into it  again, just to confirm if I felt what I hope I felt. 

Peeta’s fingers tighten on my hip, emboldening me to keep going until I’m practically twerking into him, and his slight bulge morphs into a full blown hard-on. 

I twist in his arms to face him, my lust idled brain barely thinking rationally, “Are your 33 minutes done yet?” I yell into his ear, so he can hear me over the noise. 

He doesn’t even look at his watch, “To hell with time! I‘ll stay here all night, if you want me to,” He answers loudly. 

“Come on, then!” I push off his chest, and snatch up his hand before he can reply. 

Leaving the dance floor is surprisingly easily, considering the crowd bouncing in place together. 

I make no conscious plan on where we’re going; I’m arguably familiar with the layout of this place from my many visits since Prim turned 21; I’m only mildly surprised when we navigate across the club, all the way to the restrooms. It’s like my clit is making all the decisions tonight… good for it! 

There’s a line of disgruntled women waiting to get inside the Ladies Room, but the Men’s Room is available, and Peeta lets me guide him into it, like one of those pull toys children have. 

“It stinks in here,” I comment blandly, but make a beeline for the last stall with a door. 

There’s one guy at the urinal, but he doesn’t even look up from his pants, so I just shrug it off and yank Peeta into the stall with me. 

The space is tight, but once inside the stall, I push Peeta into the door, and attack his mouth. 

He makes a startled noise at the back of his throat, but his hands and arms immediately press me into his body more fully. My own hands trek down to his belt, where I fiddle with the buckle until it’s undone, and I can access his pants’ button and fly. 

He hisses when my fingers graze his warm erection, and bucks into my knuckles. I’m in the process of sticking my hand inside his boxers, when Peeta growls, sucking my lower lip into his mouth, and letting it go with a wet pop.

“Switch places,” he pants against my mouth, and hoists me up, until my back hits the door and his hands grab my hips possessively, jutting my pelvis forward, “I’m hungry, would you mind if I eat you out?” 

“Okay,” I gasp.

Thank you for forcing me to wear your tiny, clubbing dress, Prim! 

“You’ll allow it?” He asks, incredulous, rubbing circles on my hips with his thumbs. 

“Yes… I’ll allow it!”

His smile is sexy, his stare is hypnotic. Damned my drunken ass! I can’t believe I’m willing to do this in a smelly bathroom stall!

Peeta sits on the toilet and licks his lips while staring up at me. His hands disappear under the stretchy material of my skirt, bumping my purse out of his way. He skims his fingers under the elastic of my panties, and I bite my lip, nodding eagerly.

Slowly, Peeta slides my underwear down my legs, the tips of his fingers follow, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced!

Once he brings my panties to my knees, his hands rush back up my thighs, pushing the flimsy skirt around my waist. My underwear drops to my ankles on their own. 

Peeta’s level eye with my crotch, and I squirm restlessly. “Beautiful… absolutely soaked,” he whispers in a daze, he inhales pulling me closer, “You smell divine!” He descends, nose first, into the thatch of dark curls between my thighs, making me moan. He ruts his face against me, and suddenly drops to his knees, grabbing my calf to pull my leg up. 

But the movement gets prevented by my stupid underwear, tangled in my ankles. Without missing a beat, I toe my panties off, so Peeta can maneuver my body however he wants. 

He drapes my leg over his shoulder, opening me up to his ravenous mouth. He grunts, burying his face into my core, and finally, FINALLY, his tongue swipes between my folds.

“Fuck!” I squeak. 

My hands fly to tangle into his soft, perfectly coiffed hair. I nearly smother him, holding his face to my pussy, but he’s doing wicked things to me with his tongue: lapping, sucking, and nipping at my labia; drawing number eight figures around my clit with the tip of his tongue, to then sinking it deep inside my core. I can’t stop bucking into his mouth over and over.

When was the last time I was given head? Fuck if I know! Darius probably, he was decent, but didn’t do it often. And Thom was so boring at it, I actually preferred he didn’t do it. But this guy is amazing! A real expert in the matter! 

“I’m so close! Please… I’m so close,” I wail like a cat in heat, writhing against the door. 

Peeta looks up, and despite the horrendous lighting in the room, I realize he’s got the deepest blue eyes I’ve ever seen… too bad I can’t hold his gaze too long, because he starts rubbing my clit with his thumb, while fucking my hole with his tongue, and is all I can do not shout and scalp him in my delirium.

He doesn’t stop drinking my juices while I convulse above him. On the contrary, he retrieves his thumb, but keeps his mouth busy, lapping away all the slick I give him.

It’s too much.

I tug on his hair to pull him off of my sensitive privates. 

Peeta takes one last lick with the flat of his tongue and looks up at me, smiling wolfishly, “Was that good?” His beard’s dripping with me, he wipes some of it off on his sleeve. 

I snort, unsexy and definitely rude. “You made me cum so hard I saw stars… yeah, it was good. Better than good, really!” I smile down at him, and try to pull him off from the floor. 

All the gel holding his curls in place is gone now, rubbed off on my palms. His hair is sticking up on the top and towards the back of his head. I reach up to try and smooth it back, “I’m sorry, I seem to have made a mess of your hair,” I giggle. It’s adorable, but I feel bad that I ruined it. 

“You can mess my hair any time you want, Katniss.” He says, almost shyly, he places his hands on my waist, over the bunched up dress. 

It’s a big turn on to me, how his words are so flirty, but he delivers them so sweetly and awed. Is unexpected and endearing… which is odd, because I don’t usually find people endearing at all!

We both chuckle. 

He licks his lips, and I feel heat pool in my lower belly again. 

“Come’ere!” I wrap my hand around his nape, and pull his lips to mine. 

He responds immediately, licking the seam of my mouth. I suck on his tongue when he slides it against mine. 

He moans. 

“Fuck me, Peeta,” I rasp into the kiss, palming his dick through his jeans. 

He groans, “Are you sure?” He barely holds back another groan when I squeeze his clothed erection.

“Cock. In me. Now!” I command through gritted teeth, trying to pull his cock out of his pants with one hand, while taking his hand, and splaying it on my boob. 

“Okay… shit… this is… surreal! This has never happened to me before!” He kneads my tit, gently.

I’m not sure I was supposed to hear that, so I pretend I didn’t and turn, facing the door to wiggle my ass, in an attempt to convince him. 

Peeta makes a noise in his throat, quickly followed by the sound of shifting clothes, and a metallic thump from his belt buckle hitting the toilet. 

I whine when Peeta’s warm, heavy cock caressed my bare ass cheek. “Please don’t tease me,” I beg.

“Fuck, Katniss… do you really want this?”

“Yes, Peeta… put your cock inside my cunt, and fuck me all the way to next week! Now!” 

His warm body cocoons mine, “Anything you want, sweetheart,” he whispers into my ear, and I feel the blunt head of his cock parting my folds, coating himself with my natural lubricants.

He finds my entrance, pushing inside just the tip. He gasps, “Fuck!” One big hand wraps around my hip to keep me steady, bracing his other arm on the door, above my head. 

“Peeta… Please!” I wiggle my ass, making him sink another inch deep. 

“Hold still,” He hisses, “I’m trying to hold back… not ramming in too roughly… embarrassing myself, cumming too fast,” His hot breath warms my nape. “You feel like heaven!” He growls, tightening his hold on me. 

I’m torn, wishing he’d drill into me without mercy already, while another part of me is grateful he’s trying to stay under control… I don’t know which I want more… 

When was the last time I had sex? 

As if reading my thoughts, Peeta shares haltingly, “It’s been such a long time for me. I want it to last, but I’m

Not sure if I can,” 

I don’t have time to second guess myself, because Peeta’s moving, and he’s massive! 

“Don’t hold back!” I bleat, “I want it rough… I want it fast!” I gasp, clenching down on him. I paw at the door for purchase, trying not to face-plant on the cold, hard surface, while Peeta’s fat prick stretches me to the brink of pain! I can’t stay put for him any longer; I buck into him.

“I said to hold still!” He slaps my ass, hard. It stings, but it’s a welcomed feeling. 

I moan and melt, finally relaxing enough for him to penetrate me all the way to the hilt. He stays there a moment, breathing harshly into my neck, squeezing my hip on and off. 

“You’re so tight. So warm. So wet, Katniss.” He nuzzles my ear, “I’m gonna move now, I apologize beforehand in case this ends too soon for you…” He drags himself slowly out of me, just to plunge right back in with a swift, hard thrust. 

I squeak; he grunts.. 

Peeta holds me by the waist,  “You’re so pretty and sexy, Katniss. I can’t decide if you’re real, or the most vivid wet dream I’ve ever had…” he’s fucking me like a jackrabbit in rut.

I’m speechless, vaguely wondering if I didn’t dream him instead?

His cock head hits a spot deep inside me I’ve never reached before. I start babbling nonsense— mostly praising his cock and his strength— I don’t really know what I’m saying, but he seems to be enjoying it thoroughly by the increase in his speed and the volume of his grunts. 

I’m joisted up and down his shaft like a rag doll; I wish I’d thought of hanging my stupid little purse somewhere before we started, because now it’s bumping on my thighs, distracting me from the great ducking I’m getting; it’s no matter… I can feel my orgasm building in my belly.

“I’m gonna cum, sweetheart… I want you to cum too,” He nibbles on my earlobe. 

“Yes, Peeta! Please make me cum, I’m so close!”

One of his hands slides around my waist to play with my clit, while his other tweaks my nipples over my dress and bra. That, added to the sensation of my g-spot being prodded repeatedly, sends me spinning over the edge.

I must’ve screamed or something, because he clamps his hand over my mouth, and then he’s grunting, digging his forehead between my shoulder blades, and pulling me back against his unyielding body. 

“Fuck…” he gasps and shivers behind me. I feel his dick pulsing, his rhythm faltering, and then he goes still. 

Peeta sags a little, wedging his shoulder into the door to keep from falling. I’m surprised he still has the strength to hold me up too; I have to be dead weight at this point, since my legs feel like overcooked noodles and my arms gave out a minute ago.

We both try to catch our breaths, too spent and weak for much more, at least for a few minutes.

Peeta stirs. “Are you okay?” He breathes out, ruffling the loose wisps of my hair with his breath. 

I chuckle, leaning my sweaty temple on the cool door. “I can’t feel my toes… which is excellent!”

“Good,” he sighs. 

Three heart beats later, he straightens up and pulls out of me. An indecent amount of spend flows down my legs as soon as his cock dislodges from my pussy, but Peeta shoves something soft between my thighs quickly, before I have time to freak out about the mess.

I look down mildly curious, staring at an embroidery of a tiny loaf of bread. Vaguely, I wonder if that’s his uniform? He said he was a baker, right? At least he’s named after bread or something. I giggle. “Is this your shirt?” I ask, widening my stance to gracelessly wipe myself clean. 

“Yeah,” 

“Thank you,” I say, dazedly, turning sideways to smile at him gratefully. 

He’s wearing a simple, white, cotton t-shirt when I return the polo to him, now spoiled with cum and slick. I’m caught off guard by how broad shoulder he is, and by how nice he smells… cinnamon and sweat. Weird combination, but pleasant. I wonder if he baked any bread today? 

“Um… would you… would you like to put these back on?” He asks awkwardly, leaning down to pick up my discarded panties from besides the foot of the toilet bowl.

I wrinkle my nose, “Not really,” I mumble. “Who knows when was the last time that floor got cleaned. Gross.” 

Peeta smiles and shakes his head, “Here,” he grabs his polo, covered in our juices, and wraps my underwear in it. “Now it’s hidden.”

My body is finally catching up with the advanced hour, the beers and the two amazing orgasms. I’m starting to feel sore everywhere, and my eyelids are getting heavy. “Wow… think I’m officially all partied out,” I chuckle weakly.

“Ditto,” Peeta agrees, his smile is shy. “So… there’s this little dinner about two blocks from here,” he starts, eyes downcast; the space seems to shrink around us, now that the frenzy of our physical activities is done with. “Would you like to grab a pancake or som—“

My phone rings, startling us both into silence. I frown, but scramble to find it in my purse, to check who could be calling me… apparently at 2 a.m.!

My frown deepens. Prim’s smiling face flashes on the screen. She was supposed to be getting some herself! “It’s my sister,” I whisper, tamping down my rising panic. I don’t ask if it’s okay to answer, I just do it. “Prim?” 

“Where the hell are you?!” I have to pull the phone off, or risk eardrum rupture by my sister’s screeching. “I’ve been texting and calling you! I’ve been worried sick!”

I scowl at the wall, confused and little annoyed, “Prim… Prim, are you okay? Are you hurt? Do you need me to come get you somewhere?” I try to ask.

“What?! No. I’m home! But you aren’t, and I’ve been scared shitless trying to find you!”

I give Peeta an apologetic grimace, and blindly feel around for the lock to get out of the stall. “Um… why are you home so early? Last time I heard from you, you were getting a ride,” I’m trying to sound unaffected; It’s all I can think to say in my mortification.

“Never mind that! Why aren’t you home already? I thought you had to work in the morning and then go to sch—” 

While Prim rages at me, I place a hand on the phone and turn to Peeta, still in the stall, awkwardly facing the wall, I assume to grant me some privacy. I’m sure he can hear my sister’s frantic chastisement from where he’s standing. “I’m sorry… you’d think I was a teenager instead of a grown ass adult,” I roll my eyes.

Peeta waves me off good naturedly. “It’s okay. I’m sorry for keeping you so late,”

I’m about to say something else, but Prim yells loudly, something about calling the police and checking the hospitals for me, which truly prompts a reaction from me, “Calm down! I’m still at the club, exactly where you left me!” I cover the phone with my palm again, and turn to him. “I’m… I’m gonna go? Before she threatens to send the marines in,” I try to joke, but our situation takes all the levity out of it, and my attempt dies off, lamely. 

Peeta nods, smiling softly; somehow I can tell it’s not genuine. 

“Little sisters, right?” I offer halfheartedly, twisting my lips. 

“Can I… walk you out at least?” He asks quietly; Prim hasn’t stopped nagging this whole time. 

“I… it’s not necessary, but thank you…” 

Peeta nods again, looking disappointed. 

I don’t get to tell him a proper goodbye, because two dude-bros come in the bathroom, letting the noise from the club filter in; one of the idiots elbows the other, and both start making some lewd comments about me, but Peeta steps in, eyes wild with anger, and tells the guys to knock it off. Prim hears the whole thing of course, and goes nuts herself asking what’s going on?

Peeta looks at me, and motions his head towards the door. 

Message received, I step outside the bathroom and book it out of the club, “I’ll be home in a bit. I’m gonna call and Uber,”

“Call me as soon as you’re in it!” Prim demands.

“Fine! Now stop nagging me, will you?!”

I don’t realize I never looked back at Peeta to wave my goodbyes until I’m in the car, heading home. Regret truly is a bitch. I can’t help feeling like I just lost something important, but I have no idea what it is. 

>>—————> * <————<<

It’s been a very long Monday. I’m mainly running on caffeine at the moment, and can’t wait to get home and pass out in my fluffy bed, to see if I can catch up on last nights lost hours of sleep. 

I enter my last class of the day and find a seat in the middle of the third row. I pull my laptop, a writing pad and my mechanical pencil out of my bag, and watch as my classmates start filtering in one by one, greeting each other and finding their places, lazily. 

I’m the oldest student in this class, which is not surprising. I’ve only just come back from my extended— 5 year— sabbatical; and did it only after I was completely sure I could handle my workload and the financial strain of both me and Prim going to college at the same time, without giving myself an early grave. 

It’s been hard, but I’m glad I came back to finish my schooling, I only need a handful of credits to graduate, which is great!

I check my watch. We still have a few minutes to kill before class starts. The professor— Dr. Mellark, according to the copy of my schedule— is not here yet, so I pull up the banking app on my phone to give it another glance. The balance is still the same as the last two times I’ve seen it, but it doesn’t hurt to be extra careful when one is on a tight budget. I scheduled payments for the power, gas and rent to go out in the next few days, and I want to make sure there’s enough money in the bank to cover them. We’re looking fine for the month, financially speaking. 

The door to the classroom swishes open, and I start signing off my app.

“Good afternoon ladies and germs; I’m doctor Mellark, and provided you’re in this room for an English class, I’ll like to welcome you to the amazing world of Classic Literature!” Says a deep, male voice I find oddly familiar. “By the way, don’t any of you dare to disagree with me on the awesomeness of classic lit… I’m a doctor, I know what I’m talking about… unless you ask me about medicine, then please be free to disregard everything I say, because I’m not ‘that’ kind of doctor!” 

A murmure of little chuckles fills the room; even I smile, silencing my phone and putting it away, before looking up at the professor.

I choke on a strangled gasp when I finally set eyes on the man I assume is the teacher, dumping a worn, leather, messenger bag on the desk near the podium. He’s the last person I would’ve expected to have as a professor.  

Oblivious to my predicament, Doctor Mellark— or as I know him: Peeta!— keeps introducing himself. 

“I’ve been teaching this course for 14th years, but I’m always pleasantly surprised to hear the different points of views my students bring to our discussions on the classics we study, which in a nutshell, is the beauty of this class.” He pulls a ream of paper out of his bag, and gives it to a student in the front, “Please take a syllabus, and pass the rest to the next person, and so on… thank you!” 

My face is burning. I think I’m gonna faint. 

“But enough about me,” his voice booms, making my whole body shiver. “I don’t normally do roll calls or care about attendance, as long as you’re not missing assignments, and are here during discussions, so this is the first and last time I’ll be reading this list,” he rises a piece of paper above his head, I surmise has the students names on it, and he instructs, before reading, “I’ll call your names, and you’ll introduce yourself, briefly, that way we can all get acquainted with each other, yes?” 

Ugh! 

He can scratch my name off that list right now! We’re more than acquainted with each other.

Bile rises to my throat. An intrusive, bitter thought pesters me: how many of his students has he gotten ‘that’ familiar with? 

But the thought dies off quickly. An even worse, more worrisome thought springs front and center in my mind: Did we use protection?!

Panic rises in my chest, a nervous queasiness settles in my belly; a distant memory of warm goo sliding down my legs comes to mind… Oh shit! 

Oh shit, oh shit! We didn’t use a freaking condom? Who does that?! 

Oh shit! 

Would a Plan B still be effective right now? It’s been less than 24 hours… 

Peeta’s reading names. People stand from their seats and talk about themselves. I haven’t heard one word they’ve said, but I’ve been watching how some of the female students bat their eyelashes and speak all breathily, smiling coyly at him… Peeta seems oblivious to the flirting, but I still feel a cocktail of unpleasant feelings in the pit of my stomach. 

I realize, I’m jealous!

My ass is frozen in my sit, I’m not even breathing. I don’t think Peeta’s seen me yet, but… what will he do or say once my name comes up? I send a quick prayer to heaven, he won’t recognize me since I look nothing like I did last night at the club, with my hair down and my face all made-up. Right now and plain ol’ me… the rub is gonna be my name. Darn my dad and his awful naming whims! 

Soon enough, he reads a name that makes him stutter, “Kat…Katniss? Everdeen?” He does a double take, “Katniss Everdeen…” his eyes are the size of saucers when he scans the lecture hall, swiftly. When he finds me, he looks back down at his paper, and says the name out loud again, unsure, “Katniss Everdeen?” Like he doesn’t believe what he’s reading. 

I stand up woodenly, my voice cracks a little, “I’m—I’m Katniss Everdeen… hi!” 

I’m about to drop back into my chair, but Peeta kinda mumbles, “You know, Arrowhead, or Katniss is a water plant? The root is edible… like a swamp potato?”

There are quiet little giggles all over the place. 

Peeta clears his throat, his eyes flit away; his face’s blank of emotion, but his cheeks seem pinker than a second earlier, “I just read that online, believe it or not. Interesting facts about local flora, people. Reading is knowledge, but so is learning from one another… what can you tell us about yourself, Miss Everdeen, besides that you have a very unique first name?”

“I…” I harrumph, avoiding eye contact with Peeta at all costs, “I’m a part time student. Majoring in Botany. I took this class to fulfill my last English credits requirement for graduation. I do love books and classic literature, in particular.” 

“Thank you… Miss Everdeen,” he rasps. 

I sit down, clumsily, hoping this horrible, horrible moment is just a nightmare and that I’ll wake up any second now, drooling on my desk, with indentations of my notepad on my cheek, because anything would be less embarrassing than what I’m going through at this point.

Mercifully, Peeta calls a different name, and then another, and then another. I don’t look up from my notepad once.

Peeta for his part, sounds stiff and monotonous— or so I’d like to think— no more jokes or clever sayings. Maybe he’s not as affected as I am about this ordeal, and I’m just making it a bigger deal than it really is? Maybe he does have experience sleeping with students— I mean, it’s not unheard off, right?— Not that either of us had any idea we were engaging in a teacher-student affair last night… 

Although, calling it an affair is generous; it was a measly one night stand. A chance encounter. Two people letting off steam before a busy week ahead. 

I’m getting increasingly angry with all this thinking… and the class seems to drag on. It feels like an eternity, and my mind keeps churning up all kinds of questions: Why would he not say he was a teacher at this particular college? Did he lie about being a baker? Is his name even Peeta? 

I scoffed at the thought.

To my horror, I hear him ask, “Anything to say, Miss Everdeen?” 

Looking up at him requires a great deal of bravery and self admonishment, but I do my best and face him— he’s wearing glasses now, which makes my belly tightened for inexplicable reasons— “No, Doctor Mellark, nothing of consequence anyway,” I retort as venemosly as possible, without alerting anyone else there’s something weird going on between me and the professor. 

Peeta grimaces slightly. Then looks away, “Very well, as I was saying, we will start with the basics: The Iliad and Moby Dick, since those are High school level works, I expect your reports to be sufficiently well researched, and your personal ideas on the text somewhat fleshed out. It doesn’t have to be in-depth. I’m just looking to determine everyone’s style and needs for the semester ahead…” he continues his spiel, and I feel free to go back to my stewing and my musings. 

Before I know it, Peeta’s dismissing the class, wishing everyone a good rest of their evening. 

I jump into action, packing my stuff with my head bowed, but then I hear him again.

“Miss Everdeen, a private word, please?” It’s much too quiet to have been said from his podium. I still startled when I look up and find him standing right against the first row of desks, directly in front of me. 

His face is not quite stern, but he’s definitely less smiley than when we met. 

I force down a gasp, because under the better lighting of the lecture hall, and close up, I can see a plethora of details I missed at the club; like the arresting blue of his eyes, the slight reddish of his neatly trimmed beard, peppered with silver whiskers all over, while his perfectly combed hair is almost all silver on the temples, and ashy blonde on the top. His shoulders are even broader than I remember. 

He’s overall stockier than I originally thought, and just a smidge shorter, which is fine, he’s still the most handsome man I’ve ever met, and I wouldn’t mind climbing him like a tree—

I shake my head off the intrusive, lecheros thoughts. I’m literally lusting after my teacher, for goodness sakes! This is beyond a silly schoolgirl crush!

Peeta arches one dark blonde eyebrow at me, expectantly. 

I nod curtly, because my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth, and gesture for him to lead the way.

I shove my laptop into my bag, and hastily shoulder the straps, hugging my writing pad to my chest, following my professor like a chastened little girl. 

My stupid eyes find his ass, and I blink twice, at the exquisite sight in front of me. I groan internally. 

He grabs his own bag, takes off his spectacles and slides them into his shirt pocket. 

How old is this man?! He said he’s been teaching this class for 14 years, when do professors start their teaching careers? How did I never see him before now roaming campus? Is his age the reason he ate pussy like a master? 

I shake my head, cursing my horny brain. 

Peeta opens a door I have no idea how we came across, and then stands aside, gesturing for me to go in first. 

I duck my head and step into a warmly decorated office, with a small desk and two chairs in the middle of the room. Bookshelves full of tomes line the office. A handful of pictures and framed diplomas hang from the only available wall space in the room, but I don’t get to study them before he catches my undivided attention. 

“Let me start by apologizing,” Peeta stars, closing the door behind himself, “I assure you, it wasn’t my intention to cause you any stress, or embarrassment out there.” He pauses, “Would you like to sit?” He offers, wincing. He doesn’t wait and steps around me, to pace on the other side of his desk, “I… um, never been in this position before,” he scowls, “I’m not sure what assurances I can offer at the moment, except, that I will start the process to recuse myself from this class immediately, to not interfere with your academic—“

“Recuse yourself?” I cut him off, “what do you mean?” 

Peeta squirms a little, and sits down heavily on his chair. My bag slides off my shoulder, and I just dump it in the empty chair I was offered a moment ago. 

“Well, Miss Everdeen, it’s the right thing to do, given our circumstances. We’ve breached the appropriate boundaries of our pupil and teacher positions, and staying in the same class together will put you at a disadvantage… is a power imbalance situation, that calls for action.”

“Can you stop calling me ‘Miss Everdeen’? It’s weird…”

“I’m just trying to maintain an acceptable level of decorum between us,” he says sheepishly. 

“That ship has already sailed,” I say tiredly.

“Perhaps, but it’s my responsibility to still try,” he rubs his forehead. “Anyway, I’ll call my department and see what is next. Stepping down myself is the only fair solution I see so far… it would be terribly unfair to ask you to switch classes. Simply disrespectful, but we both can agree this uncomfortable situation needs to be nipped in the bud, for both our sakes, Miss Everdeen.”

“This is bullshit!” I snap, “What happened in that club, isn’t that terrible of a problem! What we really need to do is stop acting so stiffly and guilty. By the way, you sound like a walking thesaurus!” I accuse, looking him in the eyes for the first time since he called my name at the lecture hall. “Stop it!” 

Peeta inhales deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Miss Everdeen, our actions last night may have been honest, and even innocent in nature, but they still carry consequences… unexpected ones, especially in light of the facts. And the facts are, that it would be unethical for me to remain in a position of authority over you. In any case… if you feel the need to report me to the school administration, for… harassment or inappropriate behavior or anything else, I won’t dispute any claims. I promise to distance myself from you and give you space so you can continue with your education without interference, in a safe environment.”

I grunt, “I’m not going to report you, because you didn’t do anything wrong. Sure, I thought you were a baker… I mean your story about your name, and that little loaf of bread embroidered into your shirt, I thought it was your uniform,” I shrug one shoulder. 

“Sorry about that… I never meant to mislead you,” he says bashful. 

I ignore him, “Either way, I was the one pulling you into that bathroom. I threw myself at you. I begged you to do things to me, and you just granted me my wishes…” like a sexy gentleman, “The sex is on me. I’m 26 years old, I’m not some bumbling teenager who hasn’t learned to take responsibility for her actions, so, please… stop trying to shield me, or protect me, or whatever it is you’re doing,” my arms flap around in frustration. I finally push my bag off the chair, and sink into it. “Look, Peeta—“

“Professor…” he corrects, frowning a little.

I roll my eyes, if he knew he’s just making it sound kinkier than it already is, he wouldn’t be so adamant about the freaking titles. 

“Fine… Doctor Mellark,” I enunciate, pettily. “I specifically chose your class as my last English elective for two reasons. One: it’s exactly the amount of credits I need to graduate at the end of the semester. And two: it fits my schedule to a T, which is important, since I do have a full time job when I’m not a college student. So, I’m sure we can both be adults about this unfortunate situation, and simply forge on. There’s no need for you to recuse from teaching this class, and I have absolutely no intention of switching. We both can wear our big people britches, and pretend last night was a… what did you call it?” I wave my hands, as if the answer will materialize from thin air, “A vivid wet dream? And leave it at that!”

Peeta glares at me, looking aggravated for the first time since I met him. “It’ll be unethical to continue like everything is normal, Miss Everdeen.” Peeta argues, stubbornly. 

“Nobody has to know about last night,” I say, exasperated, then a horrifying thought flashes in my mind, “Unless you bragged about it already!”

“No!” He straightens in his chair, looking offended, “I would never do something so vile,” He looks indignant, “plus, the fact still remains that something did happen last night, and I know about it! I can’t, in good faith, be your teacher.”

“Are you planning on showing me favoritism because you know what my pussy tastes like, Peeta?” I deadpan, “Or are you gonna blackmail me into doing it again?” 

“Stop calling me Peeta!” He growls through his teeth, his very thick fingers clenching into fists on his armrests. 

I blink at his reaction owlishly, realizing I’m truly pushing it this time. 

“I’ve always prided myself on keeping my nose clean. Being a decent man and tutor. Never in 17 years of teaching have I slept with a co-ed, let alone a student in my own class.” He breathes deeply, then pins me to my chair, with those arresting blue eyes of his, burning with controlled anger, “I would never extort you or anyone for sexual favors, Katniss. While I don’t really want to lose my tenure or face other disciplinary actions from the school authorities, the one thing I truly don’t want to damage are my personal standards, and my self image.

“Katniss, I’m already biased when it comes to you. Being your professor won’t be exactly fair to anyone. I’m not saying I would give you A’s willy-nilly, nor that I would grade your papers any differently than I’d do your peers or that I’d be less critical of your work,” 

“That’s reassuring,” I roll my eyes. “You’re telling me that if I bring you a shit essay, you might not be persuaded to let me redo it?” 

He sighs, “I don’t know…” he scratches the back of his neck, “I’ll most likely hover over your desk a disproportionate amount of time compared to your classmates. There’s also a chance I’ll call on your name more often than the rest of them?”

“I still don’t hear one unscrupulous, wrong reason, why you can’t do your job, and teach this class.”

We sit there, staring at each other, at an impasse. 

“Why are you so set on keeping me in that room, Miss Everdeen?” He asks, softly. 

Finally, I relent, relaxing my tense shoulders, and exhaling tiredly. I raise my hands in defeat. “I don’t know, Peeta. Because I want to protect you, the same way you’re trying to protect me. But… recuse yourself if you have to. I still believe you’re a better man than your urges.” 

Peeta relaxes in his chair too, “Thank you, Katniss.You didn’t have to say that, specially because you don’t know me. It still means a lot.”

I chew the inside of my lip, calculating stuff in my head. “You’re right, I don’t know you, but I consider myself an okay judge of character.” He opened this door, it’s time for me to walk through it, “Can I ask you some stuff?” I ask innocently.

Peeta arches his eyebrows. “Shoot,” he says. 

“How old are you?” 

“45. I’m sorry. I knew you were young last night… I just didn’t quite grasp just how young,” his eyes shift downwards, sheepish and uncomfortable. 

“I’m an adult. I’ve been the head of my family for years. At this point, age is irrelevant for me.” I state, dismissively.

“What about your family?” He asks, tilting his head sideways.

It takes me a minute to answer. I cross my arms over my stomach, and exhale, “It’s been only Primrose and I for five years now. My mother had cancer. My father passed when I was eleven.” I rock in my chair, slightly, “That’s why my sister was being such a clingy bitch last night. She can’t bear to lose anyone else. Neither can I for that matter.”

Peeta leans forward on his desk. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Katniss.”

I sit back, feeling like a huge weight just got lifted off my shoulders. “It’s okay, really. I’m back in school, about to finish my last semester, Prim is doing great in university, the only debt we have right now is Prim’s car and my Target card… we are actually okay,” I smile, meekly at him. 

“That’s… that’s good, Katniss. Admirable, really.”

“Peeta?” I start cautiously, “Would you really remove yourself from the class because of me?” 

He looks me right in the eye, sincerity emanating fro his eyes. “Absolutely. Without hesitation. As soon as you leave, I’ll email my Head of Department, explaining my situation. Don’t worry, I won’t mention any names or details—“

I shake my head, vehemently. 

Peeta squints, studying me cautiously, measuring me. 

“Please… stay with me…” 

Something in my tone catches his attention, and he eyes me curiously. “I’ve already told you why I can’t,” he says, almost soothingly. 

I stand up. Go around my chair, and drop back down into it. I start shaking my leg nervously. “I had this feeling in my gut since last night. Like I lost something precious, I just couldn’t put a finger on it… I still can’t, to be honest. All I know, in my loins, is that I can’t let you step down from your position, and I sure as hell won’t walk away on you without figuring out what this…” I wiggle my fingers, pointing to the mouth of my stomach, “feeling is about.”

He stares at me. 

I stand up again, and this time I just pace, to the wall with the pictures, and stare at a bunch of faces, too similar to Peeta’s not to be related to him somehow. 

“I know I’m not making sense, but I just needed to say that.”

He watches me for a long beat, weighing his options no doubt, before answering, “I can’t be your teacher, Katniss…” he sighs, and rubs his forehead, “because I’m afraid seeing you every week, without being able to touch you will be absolute torture.”

“Really?” I bite my lip, giving him an open once over, not feeling one iota self conscious about. “How come?” 

Peeta huffs, avoiding my eyes. “I’d be wondering what your breasts look like the whole time.” He confesses, flatly. “I didn’t get a chance to see them last night, and it kept me awake an indecent amount of time.” He twists his lips, “I’m gonna be pinning the whole semester, whether you’re in the classroom or not, craving the taste of your juices in my tongue, and worse of all, I’ll probably embarrass myself, giving me involuntary hard on’s just fantasizing about you.”

I practically prowl towards him. “You poor thing,” I coo, pouting. “Would you go home to masturbate on the soiled pair of panties I left behind on that dirty, bathroom floor?” I ask… more like, purr, really. 

Peeta chuffs out an incredulous laugh, covering his face with both hands. He grunts, “Aw, fuck! That sounds so… it’s probably exactly what could happen. I’d try to stay professional in the classroom, but in the privacy of my home…” he chuckles weakly, shaking his head.

“What kind of fantasies are we entertaining here?” I ask, invested, and sit on the corner of his desk. 

Peeta thins out his mouth, “Katniss… that’s a slippery slope you’re trying to climb,” he warns.

“Humor me?” I cajole. 

He takes a stuttering breath. “I’ll bring you into this office, same way I did today, except I’ll rip your clothes off, throw you on the desk and take you hard and fast. From behind.” 

I can’t stop a small sound at the back of my throat, nor the need to rub my thighs together. 

I clear my throat, “I expect you’d want to fuck me on every surface in this office?”

Peeta pulls on the collar of his shirt, his face turning crimson, “And probably the lecture hall as well,” he adds conversationally. 

I nod, scooting closer to where he sits. “I’m curious too you know. I didn’t get to see ‘any’ part of you naked. But my muscles still are deliciously sore from last night. A girl has to wonder… just how big a dick has to be to cause so much wreckage?” 

It doesn’t take much effort at all to work him up. Peeta’s pants are tented in what looks like the most uncomfortable erection ever; he shifts in his chair to try and hide the effect my words have on him, yet, his hands remain folded on his lap, white knuckled with the effort of keeping himself in check. He’s really committed not to touch me while I’m still his student, but he rasps a question, full of concern. 

“Did I hurt you?” His eyes search me, earnestly. “I’m sorry I was too rough, really,”

My heart gives a little somersault. “No, Peeta. You were pure perfection. I loved how you handled me.”

His lips twitch, and I’m amazed at how expressive his face is, even partially hidden under his near facial hair. “You said you were hungry last night before you got on your knees…” I murmur, “I think, next time I’ll return the favor,”

“Next time?”

I slide closer to him, but we both keep our hands to ourselves.

I lick my lips, resisting the urge to drop on my knees between his legs and gobble up his cock. I didn’t lie about wanting to see him in all his naked glory, but I can show the same level of restraint he does; I respect him for trying to keep a moral and ethical compass.

I smirk at him, slyly. “Are you sure you wanna abandon your post as my professor, now that my education is on the balance? We can wait a handful of months, Doctor Mellark… I promise not to tease you,” With that, I mean, I promise not to aggravate what could potentially be the worst case of blue balls in the history of slow burns.

Peeta hisses a mirthless chuckle, “You’re too much of a temptation, even if you don’t actively try teasing me, Katniss,”

I start playing with the end of my braided, dark hair. “You know what I’m most really looking forward to, from when I’m no longer your student?” I pose, shyly, “Going to that dinner you mentioned last night.” I shrug one shoulder. “I’ll let you buy me a stack of pancakes to celebrate my graduation. I’ll probably introduce you to my sister, Primrose… and we’d go from there… if you wanted to…”

Peeta smiles, disarmingly. “I’d love that too, Miss Everdeen.” He says quietly.

I let go of my braid, and hug myself, “Stay in the class?” I practically beg one last time. “We can do it, I know we can. We can have a platonic, completely innocent teacher-student relationship until I’m done with college,”

Peeta shakes his head. “We’ll see after I talk to my head of department. Who knows, maybe all the schedules are already locked in place, and I have no other choice but to stay put. There’s no guarantee a replacement is available for me.”

“We’ll make it work!” I say enthusiastically. 

“Maybe…” he sighs, not entirely convinced. 

I pull my phone out of my pocket to check the time. Time is running out, I gotta get to the pharmacy before my window of opportunity closes. 

“Hey, Peeta… um, invasive, weird question?” 

I wait for him to nod.

“Have you by any chance, have gotten a vasectomy at any point?” 

“Mmm no, never had. Why?”

Aw shit! 

I bite the inside of my cheek. “Hopefully no reason.” I say quickly, too nonchalant for my own good, and he catches on it, I can see the gears turning in his brain, “Okay,” I make a big show of yawning and stretching my arms, “I have to run some errands before going home and crashing for the night.”

Peeta cringes, “Are you… okay? Really, okay? You said you were sore?” His eyes rove over my face full of concern. 

“I’m fine,” I smile, “nothing a long soaking in Epsom salts can’t cure.”

“Okay,” he says, unsure. “I don’t want to overstep any worse than I already have, but… I’ve been anxious, wondering if you were alright, if you got home fine to your sister since you left the club. Which, obviously you did… but, I wanted to kick myself for not asking your number, just to be able to check on you… and this is frown upon, a d completely unethical, but—“

“I’ll email you,” I say quickly. “Nothing explicit. But I’ll let you know I’m home and okay.” I’ve spoken to people in code before, this shouldn’t be a problem, and really, sending my professor an email with a time stamp and some innocuous question about the syllabus doesn’t have to be nefarious at all. 

“Alright… Just let me know if there’s anything wrong, okay? I swear this won’t become a routine thing or anything, just this time, to give me peace of mind, and because it is late… and well, yesterday…”

“It’s fine, professor. I don’t mind. And… everything will work out,” I say shouldering my bag and pocketing my phone, “everything will work out, even if my Plan B doesn’t,” I smile and scurry out the door, before the puzzlement in his face has time to settle. 

After all, a semester is only 15 weeks long, give or take… that’s plenty of time to figure things out. 

#alliswell21 #animekpopxx #prompt 144 #Springtime Edition 2021 #submission

[eternally-writing]

chain reaction 02 | jjk

genre: fluff and angst 

rating: PG 

pairing: Jungkook x reader

theme: college!au , enemies to lovers, series 

word count: 4.6k

warnings: light swearing

synopsis: A semester with your mortal enemy, Jeon Jungkook, as your lab partner was bound to be an experience to remember. 

banner by me!

read part 1 here! 

 If you want to be tagged in future parts, send me an ask! 

--♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡--

When you had imagined what Jeon Jungkook’s apartment would look like, you had definitely thought it would look something like an evil lair (except messy, because Jungkook definitely struck you as the messy type). 

However, upon stepping into his surprisingly well-finished apartment, you found the exact opposite case. Before this, you had planned to make a ton of jokes based on whatever you would find in Jungkook’s apartment. And the truth was, you still could. 

Jeon Jungkook was an absolute neat freak. You watched the way he subtly shuddered as a fleck of dirt from your shoes travelled off of his doormat and you took note of how his kitchen counter was so clean you could probably eat directly off of it (which was especially rare from someone in college). If he had a roommate, there was no trace of him right now, as the apartment pretty much looked like a showhome.

“I didn’t know you were such a clean freak, Jeon,” you said with a smirk.

For the first time, you saw Jeon Jungkook look the slightest bit timid. 

“I like to keep things tidy, I guess,” he said while rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand. 

He gestured for you to enter his quaint but somehow spacious living room as he sped to the kitchen to grab you a glass of water (he may not like you, but he’d be damned by his mother if she found out he let a guest into his place without giving them a beverage).

You had a very clear game plan when it came to entering Jeon Jungkook’s apartment: Enter. Talk about the project (and nothing else). Grab the chemistry notes from the class you missed on Monday. Leave. 

It definitely seemed like an easy peasy 4 step plan  -  except that all seemed to flow out the window once you saw the photo Jungkook kept on his coffee table. From what you could decipher, it looked like a high school aged Jungkook in a music studio, right in front of the mic, with some of his friends around him. You had never seen Jungkook smile as big as he was in that picture, and it even managed to pull at your heartstrings.

Before you could open your mouth to ask about it, Jungkook had already come over to you and slammed the picture to be face down on the table, leaving smiley high school Jungkook out of sight. 

“An invitation into my apartment isn’t an invitation into my private life, Y/N. Don’t get it twisted.” he said coldly, dropping the glass of water hashly onto a coaster by the picture frame. 

To be fair, you kind of deserved that (and looking into Jungkook’s personal life definitely wasn’t part of your 4 step plan to seeing him today), but he didn’t have to be that mean.  As a peace offering you moved as far away from the photo frame as you could.

“Let’s just get this over with, Jeon. I have a pilates class in an hour on the other side of campus.”

Now Jungkook couldn't pass up that opportunity to make a joke. 

“Pilates, mmm.”  He let out an overexaggerated moan to make his point. 

“ Think you can slip my number to the hot girls there Y/N,” said Jungkook with a smirk. 

“In your dreams Jeon. You’re lucky if any girls will still want your number if you fail organic chemistry, which is what you’re going to do if we don’t work on this project.”

“I think you’re forgetting Y/N.” he said as he bent down, bringing his lips to your ear - “if I go down I’m taking you with me sunshine”. 

Ignoring how his close proximity to you was making your heart race (it was probably due to anger, right??), you jumped away from him and pulled out your macbook.

“Our group contract is due tomorrow so let’s just finish that up and then I’ll be out of your hair okay?” you said with an air of desperation and potentially sexual frustration.

For the most part, you and Jungkook worked in silence besides the occasional sound of you typing or clearing your throat. Looking at the live google doc in front of you and the progress you both were making, you were starting to think that working with Jungkook might not be the worst thing in the world. 

Jeon Jungkook and Y/N L/N : CHEM 251 LAB PRESENTATION CONTRACT

Topic - Green Chemistry 

1. Answer all communication from your partner (emails, messages) within 24 hours

2. Complete all portions of assignments at least 1 day before it is due. 

3. Any changes to your availability should be communicated to your partner. 

4. Y/N will handle the background literature and introduction of the presentation. 

5. Jungkook will look for future applications of Green Chemistry and direct applications of course material in the field of Green Chemistry. 

6. Don’t fall in love with your partner. 

As soon as you saw Jungkook type the last point on the document, you glared at him beside you on the couch. 

“Seriously Jeon? I forgot you have the mindset of a 13 year old boy,” you muttered as he looked at you cockily. 

You took a deep breath as your internal monologue started to run: 

Okay, Y/N. you’re not here to let Jeon Jungkook mess with you. 3 strikes and you’re out of here - there’s no reason to need to keep up with his bullshit (especially since at least the first part of your project was over).

Jungkook had then had to add more rules to your group contract. 

7. Y/N will give out Jungkook’s number to any hot girl at her pilates class. 

You groaned and hastily deleted off the document. 

That was strike 1 for Jungkook. 3 strikes and he’s out. 

Jungkook was still relentless in his attacks. 

“Seriously though Y/N, do you really not think I’m attractive at all? You really don’t want a piece of this?,” he said as he wiggled his eyebrows and gestured to his body all too suggestively. 

“Cut it out Jeon, I’m not dealing with your shit today,” you hissed, your eyes shooting metaphorical lasers into Jungkook. 

Strike 2: He’s getting close. 

“C’mon Y/N, what’s the chance that you’ll ever be able to bag someone as hot as me. I mean, look at me and look at you!”

Strike 3: you were DONE  with Jeon Jungkook today.

Not even stopping to put on your shoes fully, you took one last glance back at him before you walked out the door. 

“Fuck you, Jeon Jungkook.”

The glass of water he got you sat untouched on his coffee table, drops of water spilling onto the photo frame beside it due to his apartment shaking from you slamming his door.

Mirroring the new droplets on his coffee table, you found tears starting to drop across your face as well. 

--♡--

Even though you loved your chemistry lecture, you’re not sure why chemistry labs had such a bad vibe to you. The most obvious explanation for this would be having Jeon Jungkook as a lab partner (especially after your last meeting, the situation speaks for itself). But what could be is probably at least part of the reason is because of what happened in your first year 8AM chem lab. After getting through a grueling 3 hour titration (that you messed up and got no results for in the end), you walked back to your dorm to find your (now ex) boyfriend Jimin in bed with your roommate, Soomi. 

Needless to stay you left that day with one less friend, no boyfriend (and you had also gotten 16/30 on that lab… yikes), so chemistry labs did leave a little bit of a bad taste in your mouth. 

It had been months since that incident, but even after getting a new lease and cutting any ties you remotely had to Jimin, you still carried the insecurity that Jimin instilled in you by cheating on you with someone who you thought of as a sister. 

You had yet to run into Jimin against post-breakup, and had managed to successfully avoid him, until now.

“Y/N?” 

You knew that voice all too well. Turning around, you were met with the sight of your ex, Jimin. As if that wasn’t bad enough, as you looked him over you noticed your old roommate, Soomi, hanging off of his arm. You had no clue that they were still together (you had lost all contact with anyone remotely related to Jimin), and somehow seeing them together hurt you even more. 

Jimin looked even prettier than you had last remembered him; his prince-like hair shone in the afternoon sun, his charming smile seemed even brighter. Knowing Jimin was still with Soomi made you feel that he didn’t even feel a pang of regret for cheating on you, like he didn’t need to take some time by himself to reflect (like you definitely did) or stop to grieve your relationship. From your point of view, it seemed like you never even mattered to Jimin. 

You suddenly felt self conscious of everything under the judgmental gazes of Jimin and Soomi. Those baby hairs that you didn’t bother to pin down with a bobby pin this morning now felt like they were sticking straight out of your head and the pimple that was poking through your concealer on your forehead suddenly felt like a volcano. In your mind, compared to Soomi, you looked like a hot mess.

Your brain was on autopilot for all the small-talk you made with the two of them, and you didn’t snap out of your trance until you heard these words from Jimin. 

“I only wish the best for you Y/N”

You internally scoffed at this statement. Who the fuck was Park Jimin to say that he “wishes the best for you”. You took months to get over him and the hurtful words he said to you. Every mean comment and snarky comparisons he made to you felt like it was tattooed onto your skin and stuck with you forever. But now he was standing in front of you like nothing was wrong?

In a different world, you probably would’ve slapped Jimin across the face. But instead you rose above like your mom taught you to. 

“You as well Jimin.” you said courtly with a nod, trying to stop the tears that were pricking at your eyes from escaping your tear ducts. 

After receiving a small nod from Jimin as a response, you turned around as if you had somewhere to be (in reality, you didn’t have class for another 2 hours).

Getting as far away from Jimin was all you could think about at the moment, and you moved as far as your legs could take you in whatever direction you thought would take you out of your college’s quad, even as the tears falling from your eyes blurred your vision.

You didn’t know how to feel. You had imagined what seeing Jimin for the first time after the break up would look like; maybe he would grovel at his knees and beg to have you back (it’s not that you wanted to date him again or that you had feelings for him, but it would feel nice to feel wanted), maybe you would just throw a drink in his face and walk away like a bad bitch, maybe you could’ve flashed a new boyfriend in front of his face. 

All of a sudden your phone started to ring.  Your first fear (and somewhat hope) was that it would be Jimin calling you, but little did you know that it was something so much worse.

Incoming Call: Jeon Boy 

“as if this day couldn’t get any worse,” you thought to yourself as you pressed decline. You had yet to talk to Jungkook since that day at his apartment (you didn’t even call to congratulate him on his 

Incoming Call: Jeon Boy 

You groaned and hit the decline but at the speed of lightning again.

Incoming Call: Jeon Boy

Seriously, could this guy not take a hint? You were tempted to turn your phone off all together, but settled for hitting the decline button again.

Incoming Call: Jeon Boy

You realized that for whatever reason, Jungkook was not giving up, so you either had to answer him or listen to your ringtone of “Love Killa” by Monday X play every 10 seconds. Praying that your voice wouldn’t betray you, you took a deep (albeit shaky) breath and tried your best to wipe your tears before clicking “answer”.

“Look Jeon, I’m - uh - sorry but I really can’t do this right now okay? I’ll call you later.” you choked out, your voice obviously wavering as you tried to be as professional as possible. 

Before you could press the “end call button” you heard Jungkook’s concerned voice through the speakers.

“Y/N, wait, you don’t sound too good. Are you okay?”

Ah yes, “are you okay” - probably the most loaded question a person could ever ask. 

You probably could’ve kept it together if he had asked any other question, but his “are you ok” truly pulled at your heartstrings.

You felt your chest tightening but you tried your best to help the feeling subside. You had yet to show weakness about how Jimin had affected you to anyone, and you sure as hell weren’t going to start with Jeon Jungkook. Clutching at your chest and taking a few deep breaths in an effort to calm your racing heart, you continued on. 

“Is that genuine concern I’m hearing from you Jeon? Be careful, you’re losing your bad boy persona,” you said as you tried to make a joke to distract him. 

“Y/N, no. I’m serious. are. you. okay.”

You couldn’t handle it anymore. Sobs broke free from your chest and you heaved into the phone, your whimpers and whines striking Jungkook on the other side of the phone. 

“I, I can’t- I just-“

The words barely broke through your sobs. Your chest was tightening and you could barely hear Jungkook through the ringing in your ears. 

“Y/N where are you, I’m coming’” said Jungkook. You could hear the jingling of his car keys and the rustling of him putting on shoes. 

As if mother nature felt your pain, the rain started pouring down on you at the same time.

You barely got out any more words to Jungkook,  but he didn’t hang up on you. He just kept whispering comforting phrases, trying to calm you down from afar as you could hear his car engine roaring in the background (in another world, you definitely would’ve yelled at him for using his phone while driving). You barely even registered that Jungkook was there at all. Every memory of you and Jimin seemed to reopen like a fresh wound, and you couldn’t feel anything except the pain. All you could do was sit on a random curb by the edge of campus, your wails probably reaching the sorority houses nearby. 

You felt broken. The sound of the thunder overhead mixed with your cries as the rain pelted you, soaking your thin sweatshirt. You don’t know how much time passed there. In your head, it felt like time was frozen, while for Jungkook it felt like he was wasting hours zooming through campus (he truly was zooming - a month later he found out that he had accumulated 3 speeding tickets trying to find you, but he would never tell you that).

“Oh, sunshine,” he murmured, voice laced with pity and concern as he pulled over his car on the curb in front of you. 

You and Jungkook hadn’t even said a word to each other since the feud at his apartment, and you had absolutely zero clue how he even managed to figure out where you were through your jumbled phone call. But all you knew is that right now you needed him. You needed someone to give you a bit of comfort, and Jungkook was somehow here to do that for you. Despite everything between you twom you couldn’t hide the feeling of relief that ran through your body as you looked up and saw Jungkook in front of you.

Coming to your side, Jungkook crouched beside you. 

“Jungkook”, you wept as he pulled you into his chest. It was probably one of the first times you had actually addressed him by his first name, which came as a surprise to him. 

Holding you closer, Jungkook couldn’t help but feel protective over you. He couldn’t help but hurt with you as he saw your fragile figure shaking in his arms. 

“You’re gonna be okay now Y/N, okay? I’m here. I’m here for you. I’m not going anywhere.”  

And in that moment, on a dirty curbside off campus, you weren’t Jeon boy and little miss sunshine,  mortal enemies and chemistry lab partners. Instead, you were just Jeon Jungkook and Y/N., and nothing else seemed to matter at the moment.

--♡--

To your surprise (and the surprise of anyone else who knows you), you and Jungkook had not been stepping on each other’s toes as much. What had started out as extreme, extreme dislike had turned into a mild dislike (maybe even a very slight enjoyment of his presence, although you weren't about to admit that anytime soon). And of course, you both refuse to acknowledge the “Jimin incident” that had occurred a week ago and you both refuse to believe that it may have had something to do with you and Jungkook not hating each other. Your emails stopped being signed off with “do your part Jeon, or else” and instead now usually started with “Hey Jeon!” and “Thanks, Y/N”

That brought you here, in your apartment on a Friday night, eating old pizza in an old sweatshirt, no bra, and some comfy shorts that had definitely been through the wash one too many times. Researching for your chemistry project, you chuckled at how much of a londer you would look to an outsider. Sending off the articles you found on Green Chemistry to Jungkook, you closed out the email with some casual pleasantries and then turned to continue rewatching episodes of your favourite kdrama. You definitely weren’t expecting a response from Jungkook until Monday. You were sure that someone like him was at a frat party (was he even in a frat? You had no idea). Either way, Jungkook probably was lounging around in some party house with like 6 girls on his arms, while you were doing quite the opposite. 

Surprisingly, Jungkook was actually doing quite a similar thing to you. Instead of watching kdramas, he was watching Iron Man (for what was probably the 50th time), and was huddled under a makeship blanket fort like a child and scrolling through reddit. Don’t be mistaken though, Jeon Jungkook was definitely a partier, but he also knew when he needed to give his head (and liver) a break.

He saw his phone chime with a gmail notification. He took a brief scroll through the articles you had sent over to him (those were definitely work for another day since there was no way he could digest academic jargon without at least 3 cups of coffee in him), but he was pleasantly surprised with what you had come up with. 

At the same time, the Facebook tab he had open on his Macbook also lit up. 

It’s Y/N L/N’s birthday today! Leave a message on her wall to celebrate!

Jungkook’s jaw dropped. 

It was your birthday and you were sending him chemistry research papers?? Jungkook chuckled because he could already think of 1000 bad jokes to make fun of you, but he also felt some other feeling that he couldn’t quite place.  

Jungkook’s mother had always taught him that it was important to celebrate birthdays, and that is was bad luck that it was  He wasn’t sure if it was just a farce that his mother had come up with to make sure that he still attended those family-wide facetime birthday celebrations once he went to college, but either way, he still believed it to some extent. 

He had no clue why he was doing this, or how he even got here, but somehow Jungkook found himself in sweatpants and a hoodie in front of your apartment door at 10pm on a Friday night, cake in tow in one hand, his other hand out ready to knock on your door. 

On the other side of the door, you were equally astonished. It almost felt like you were seeing a hallucination, as if your email to Jungkook had somehow summoned him to your door. You couldn’t help but rub your eyes in disbelief, just to make sure he was actually there. 

“Jungkook?”

Bashful Jungkook seemed to make an appearance again as he tapped his feet in anxiety. And before he could stop himself, words were already tumbling from his mouth”

“Happy birthday?” he said as a question , posing it as if he didn’t know whether facebook was just playing a prank on him (which he honestly didn’t know). “Can I come in?”

You didn’t even really know how to process this situation, but all you could mutter was a “uh, thank you?” in a similar inquirable tone and gesture for him to step into your apartment. If Jeon Jungkook showed up at your door at 10pm on a Friday night, he probably deserved to be heard out.

“You can make yourself comfortable on the couch. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting company otherwise I would have cleaned up a bit.”  You were sure that Jungkook’s neat freak brain was probably frying itself into overdrive based on the empty now-empty pizza box sitting on your coffee table and stray utensils and crumbs on your kitchen counter. You felt a little embarrassed that he had to see this.

Mirroring Jungkook’s hospitality last time you were at his place, you brought him a glass of water and hoped that this evening would go a LOT better than the last time you and Jungkook were alone together in an apartment. 

Jungkook’s cake was still held in his hands. It was a little cake from the 24/7 cafe on campus; he could only find one that said “happy” with little sunflowers and smiles, so hopefully the “birthday” part of it was implied. 

“I, um, I brought cake - for you. I mean your birthday.”

You sat down across from him. 

“Oh you didn’t have to Jungkook, uh that’s really nice but you didn’t have to do that,” you said as you leaned further away from the cake, as if it was an item that scared you. “I’m not big on birthdays anyways, just usually me chilling in my apartment!” 

However, Jungkook was not planning on taking no as an answer. He tried his best to plead with you, but was still getting nowhere. 

“you… you have to do it for my mom!” he said as he thrust the cake even closer to your face. 

You tilted your head in confusion at his statement. 

“I mean uh-, my mom says that it’s bad luck if you don’t blow out candles on cake on your birthday and that if you don’t do it then you won’t live to your next birthday. And um- i know we’re not friends Y/N but I’d rather see you alive next year”.

 Jungkook tried to look as nonchalant and cool as possible, and when he realized his statement was a little too thoughtful he followed it up with a “i mean you could do whatever you want i don’t care it doesn’t matter to me”. 

You were beginning to like this side of Jungkook, the one that was more thoughtful than he was a selfish, inconsiderate dude.

Taking the cake softly from his hands, you muttered a soft “thank you”. At this point Jungkook didn’t know whether you took it from his hands to throw it on the ground or actually use it for its intended purpose. As you leaned over to grab the lighter by your candles on your coffee table, Jungkook let out a breath of relief. 

Throwing open the cake box, you lit the candle in the cake and stared patiently in front of it. 

“Well Jungkook, I believe if I am going to be blowing out candles there should be singing too, no?” You joked with a silly smile on your face. 

Knowing he had no way out of this (and to be honest, he secretly wanted to anyways), he began to sing. 

You had never heard a more beautiful rendition of happy birthday in your life. Jungkook turned the most mundane song, one that you didn’t have many happy memories with, into a tune that made your heart start to swell with joy. You wished the song was longer, because as he stopped to sing you wanted nothing more than for him to keep going. 

“Make a wish, Y/N” , he whispered. 

You didn’t know what to wish for. There were a lot of things that needed to be fixed in the world, and lots of things that you needed too (like a new toothbrush, or the experience of true love). It seemed fitting that since you were only blowing out these candles because of Jungkook, you should at least dedicate the wish to him. So all you wished for was for you and Jungkook to get along just like you were in this moment. 

You looked up at Jungkook from the cake, and from there all you could say was a sincere “thank you”.

The moment was all too sincere, and you and Jungkook could feel the atmosphere shift to one that was all too intimate and friendly for your relationship. As moving away from a hot flame, you both picked up your phones and mumbled excuses to move away from the situation. 

Jungkook was the first to break the ice again. 

“I don’t know how good this cake is going to be, the expiry date was at least a week and a half ago”

“Well Jeon Jungkook, if you brought an expired cake into my apartment, it feels like a right of passage that you have to try this cake with me.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from picking up a piece of cake on a fork and shoving it into his mouth. Immediately, his face scrounged up in disgust, and you could pretty much see him gag. 

“That cream is… very creamy to stay the least,” he said as he thickly swallowed it down, grimacing the whole time. 

His expression made you chuckle. There was something about the way his naturally fluffy hair seemed to move as he swayed like a piece of seaweed on your couch (a mannerism that you had picked up on quite quickly), that made you feel warm inside.

“Considering me sacrificing myself to this cake as a birthday present to you, Y/N” 

The laugh that bubbled out of your chest almost made that gross cake worth it to Jungkook. And some words of sincerity slipped out before you could hold them in. 

“Best birthday present ever, Jungkook, thank you.

--♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡--

Taglist: @apollukee , @mrcleanheichou , @monvieesdaebak 

If you want to be tagged, please send me an ask! 

 If you liked what you read, please interact/follow! Thank you for reading♡

- Emily

#bangtaninn #kwritersworldnet #btsghostie #thebtswritersclub #btscreatorscorner #jungkook fic #btsfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts x reader #armywriterssupport #bts x you #jungkoook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook #jungkook imagine #bts imagine #bts scenario #bts fanfic #bangtan sonyeondan #bts #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook #jungkook scenario #bts college au

[alfredosauce50]

You’re gonna go far, kid [Punk! England x reader]

Synopsis: Ever since coming to England to study, you haven’t had the time to do what made you come in the first place--tourism! The only friend you have is an exchange student from Russia, Ivan, so why not kill two birds with one stone? He schedules a little playdate with Arthur, a local, so he can show you around the hottest spots in London. You two immediately hit it off. Ivan is quick to notice his interest in you, so he starts teasing the poor man and making things hard for him. Camden is the last destination, and there’s no saying when he’ll ever see you again. Will he be able to get over himself and ask you out before the night ends?  Note: Attractions are italicized and have a link to a picture. Wordcount: 4,641 The reader is referred to as she/her.

This was the day you had been dreading, and yet, looking forward to. The first part was easy to explain. Picking up your hot latte, you set it down after a quick sip. You didn’t even have time to enjoy it. Not when you were typing away at your keyboard like a speed demon. You promised your friend you would finish your assignment before today’s meet-up, but your procrastination habits were a bitch. Nevertheless, you were eager to uphold your side of the deal, even if it meant stressing your hair out to get it done. 

So long as he didn’t show up before you were done, right? 

After burning your tongue for the second time that morning, you let out a small groan at the sting you felt but gasped at what you saw outside the window. It was a sound made from genuine terror--rather than the quiet streets of London at seven AM, you spotted a man pressing his face right up to the glass. And he was staring at you, menacingly. 

Anybody would’ve been creeped out by the sight, but you knew the guy. “Aha--Ivan! Hey! Morning?” You began rather awkwardly. 

He waved in response, and his glower melted away in exchange for a childlike smile. “Dobroye utro, (F/N)! I hope that’s not your assignment you’re doing.” He hummed, placing two hands on the glass to peer at your screen from outside. Oh shit. Glancing briefly at said screen, you turned it away before clicking the upload button. 

“Of course not.” You grinned, shutting your laptop immediately after. “I was just... Surfing the net. Checking Instagram. You know?”

“Is that so? I’m gonna check.” He made his way inside. And in no time, he was looming over your shoulder to start browsing through your internet history. You, on the other hand, were sweating balls. 

“You’re so funny, (F/N). Who checks Instagram on their computer?”

It seemed like only yesterday he was the oblivious exchange student from Russia who had no concept of social media. He had been a country bumpkin through and through, but a few semesters after befriending you, your influence rubbed off on him. Even you had no idea what went through your head when decided to talk to him, the intimidating new kid who spoke broken English, but there was no turning back now. He was attached to you by the hip and picked up on your habits faster than you could deal. 

He only became more of a menace when he discovered Twitter.

A displeased expression contorted at his expression when he saw that there was no evidence of you ‘surfing the net’. Google Docs couldn’t possibly count, after all.  “... Hm... Apparently, not you. Why didn’t you finish this yesterday, sunflower? Remember our promise?” 

You sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. I passed out last night. But hey, I technically finished it before you came, didn’t I?” 

He craned his head from side to side in thought. “Maybe. But if you hadn’t, you know what that means.” Ivan coiled his arms around your neck and a sickeningly sweet smile curled up at his lips. 

“You will come with me to Moscow for Christmas!” 

A chill ran down your spine at the thought. Going to Russia was bad enough. But during Winter? You were never good with the cold. If you could barely handle London, Moscow was out of the question. “Oh God, please no.” He nodded giddily. “I’m never going to Russia. Maybe I’d consider it during Summer, but--anyway, that’s not the point here! I didn’t break any promises so I won’t be turning into a popsicle this year. Got that?” 

He pouted. “Aw...” 

“You damn sadist.” 

“Hehe.” 

“I wonder how you even became friends with him. Arthur, was it? Poor dude.” You mumbled, but he didn’t look all too offended. 

He tapped his chin and hummed. “Now that you mention it.” Then, he let out a short laugh. “It’s a long story. Let’s just say it was a happy little accident.”

“Unfortunate.” 

“But don’t worry! I don’t plan on bothering you as much as him today.” Ivan clarified, earning a slow nod from you. Phew. The clock was inching closer to eight and you weren’t much of a morning person, so hearing that was like music to your ears. “That’s why I wanted you to finish your work yesterday. I want him to be the only one making mistakes! It’s interesting to see him mess up and get embarrassed.” 

You had to wonder if he was using ‘interesting’ as a synonym for fun because he was clapping. “... Ivan, you really are a sadist.” 

The two of you stayed in that café for another hour or so, ordering some breakfast during your stay. Once the table was cleared and the bill was paid, you and he caught a bus to the London eye. You could marvel at the iconic ferris wheel for a few minutes as you walked up to the London aquarium next to it, your first stop. The building was huge to start with, and it didn’t look like they’d be storing fish in there considering how fancy it was. But wasn’t everything in England fancy? 

“He should be waiting in the front. Look for a short grouchy man with a bad taste in fashion.” You shot him a weird look, beckoning him to elaborate. 

“... And blonde hair.”

“Alright. I guess I’ll try my best.” Glancing around the sea of people filled with tourists, couples, and families, you skimmed the crowd for someone who fitted the description--but to no avail. It was only when they walked up to you both did you find the guy. He had short and choppy blonde hair that framed a heart-shaped face, and under his fringe was a pair of lime green eyes staring on with a neutral expression. And did Ivan say he had bad taste?

You couldn’t agree. Yes, his charcoal pants were ripped and he had a bandana tied around his neck with a Union Jack on it. But he still had a kind of style you liked. Under his black leather jacket was a gray shirt, and combined with the piercings in his right ear, you couldn’t help admiring him for a second. 

“Arthur! I was wondering if you were trampled because we couldn’t find you.” Ivan began, causing the said man to furrow his brows. And boy, were they thick. 

“You just arrived, so don’t start now you twat.” He grumbled. Ivan never teased you for your height, even when you were a little shorter than the Brit. He always found it cute, but you figured it was only because you didn’t care. The Russian always found amusement in poking fun at others, after all. “Anywho, I’m glad I won’t be spending the whole day alone with you.” 

Turning to you with a soft smile this time, he held out a hand for you to shake. “Kirkland. Arthur Kirkland.” 

You shook it, but not without a laugh. It hadn’t even been a minute since meeting him, and his personality seemed to clash violently with his appearance. He sounded so prim and proper, but his outfit screamed punk rock. 

“(L/N). (F/N) (L/N).” 

He released you from his grip. Placing his hands on his hips with an accusing stare, he felt a grin upturn his lips. “Are you copying me, (F/N)?” 

“I don’t know. Do all British people introduce themselves like James Bond?” 

Arthur clicked his tongue. “... Not all of them. Just a force of habit.” 

“Mhm. Right, right. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Arthur. I’m a student here too and I could only imagine how busy it gets for you--so thanks for coming out today!” He didn’t respond to those comments and simply nodded. 

Ivan stayed quiet in the back, but he was probably reading the atmosphere like he always did when he didn’t speak. 

“It’s nice to meet you too.” The blonde turned on his heel and closed his eyes. “As much as I’d like to stay out here and chat, we can do that in the aquarium. Wouldn’t wanna waste our tickets, do we?” 

While the group of three wandered slowly through the establishment, Ivan lingered in the background while you walked in the front with the Brit. For the first ten minutes, you’d look at him expectantly, gesturing for him to join in the conversation. As the mutual, wasn’t he supposed to be the icebreaker? He’d shake his head every time, offering you a smile as if to say, go and make some friends. But soon, this brief spell of irritation morphed into gratitude.

“I’ve been here probably a hundred times, so don’t take it personally when I don’t seem as excited as you.” Turning to him to watch his face as he spoke--which was filtered through a bluish tinge from the Antarctic setting-- you only caught a brief glimpse of it before he turned away. Huh. Maybe it was just you not paying enough attention. 

Either way, what came out of your mouth next would surely grab his. 

“Don’t worry about it. But hey, this is the first time you’ve been here with me, so look alive, won’t you?” It happened to be a slip of the tongue, something bold and improvised, but luckily, he reacted fairly quickly before the regret set in.

“Oi, you better not be flirting with me already,” Arthur grumbled, feeling another smile come as he heard you chuckle. Since when was he this expressive? He pinned it on the fact that he was starting to have a little fun himself. 

“Couldn’t imagine it.” Before he could add anything else, you hopped in front of the penguins and started waving your friend over with great gusto. “Ivan, c’mere. Arthur, mind taking a photo of us?” Once he joined your side, the two of you held up peace signs for the Brit to snap a photo. 

“Ivan, change your pose. We can’t have both of you doing the same thing.” 

The said man moved his peace sign to the back of your head so he could stick two fingers over it. “Is that better?”

“... Better.” Trailing his emerald eyes to you, he felt his cheeks heat up a touch at the sight of you grinning ear to ear. What the fuck, Arthur. Just take the damn photo. And that was exactly what he did, showing you both right after. Whatever just happened, he boiled it down to him idealizing a stranger. That was right. He had yet to get to know you, so his perception of you couldn’t be any better at this stage. 

But there was one thing he couldn’t deny.

“Damn, I look really ugly in this. You two better not post this anywhere.” You settled a hand over the screen to lower it with a nervous laugh. Then, you looked away, and what was that? You looked a little flustered. 

You were cute.

Hanging his head to look at the photo, he knitted his brows together. You? Ugly? He couldn’t imagine it. 

“... I bet I could take an even uglier one of you.”

Spinning back to him, you folded your arms. “What did you say?” 

“Nothing.” He shook his head slowly, and the amusement in his voice made it blatantly obvious he was lying. 

“That’s what I thought.” 

Walking off at that, Ivan followed. Because he was behind him, he could brush his shoulders against his. Arthur looked up at that, but almost wished he didn’t. Ivan was smiling down at him so shrewdly, it was threatening. Then, he raised a hand to his mouth so he could laugh softly. “Huhu. You like (F/N)~” 

His eyes flew open and blood rushed up to his face. “What the hell gave you that impression? I literally just met them!” As adamant as he sounded, he knew deep inside he liked you, but only platonically. Your personality was refreshing, and talking to you was as easy as breathing. Even if it wasn’t platonic attraction, he was endlessly frustrated the other figured it out earlier than he could. 

Whatever it was, he was certainly more sociable than usual, even to the point of being a tease. And not to mention the rosy cheeks. Maybe he should’ve just kept his trap shut--otherwise, his huge outburst let Ivan milk the obvious. Fuck. He even started to giggle like a schoolchild. 

Giving him a rough shove, he muttered a string of curses under his breath.  “I bloody hate your arse, you know that?” He hissed, his face now redder than a tomato. God, why he did have to be born so pale? Every slight change to his complexion was jarring, and it was embarrassing. 

“Don’t hate me because I’m right,” Ivan hummed, joining his side as your back came into view. “Once you realize, it’ll be too late. I’m not letting you have (F/N). I will always be (F/N)’s number one.” Lighting up at that, he skipped off to you in the front. “Wait for me, sunflower! Don’t leave me alone with Arthur!”

Arthur stopped in his tracks and clenched his fists. How annoying. If he was going to continue being a little tyke, then he figured he’d up his game as well. He didn’t know what that exactly entailed yet, but he’d do it. Ivan didn’t even sound like he wanted anything more than friendship, so what was with that? Pointing a finger at him as he walked off with you, his face scrunched up. 

“What did you even call me out for then, you idiot? I’m supposed to be guiding you both!” Picking up his pace at that, he slotted himself between you and him. Flashing you a brief smile, he gave Ivan another push without breaking eye contact. “It’s a tight fit for three, so he’ll stay in the back.” 

“Hey, no fair!” 

By the time the whole aquarium was toured, you and Arthur were laughing to yourselves while leaving through the exit. 

But the joyful atmosphere was short-lived. 

The Ferris wheel just outside was the next stop, and the Brit offered to splurge a little to have a carriage without strangers. That way, you could run around as much as you wanted, even if that meant leaving the two men to sit in their lonesome. While Ivan was sitting on the bench in the centre out of his own volition, the same couldn’t be said for him. 

Sitting back to back to the other, he pressed his legs firmly together and leaned over in a hunch. Then, he dug his hands through his hair, all while keeping his round eyes fixated on the ground. His heart couldn’t stop pounding, and his head was spinning like a carousel. What was he thinking, taking you here? That was right. This was an iconic destination you couldn’t miss, that was why. He was initially planning on staying back there on the ground, but you were so excited, he couldn’t help but hop on with you. 

Fuck. Maybe Ivan was right about him. But he wouldn’t let him know it. Speaking of the guy, he didn’t know if he was sitting there by choice, or just rubbing it in. While he was incapacitated by fear so he couldn’t even stand, he was sitting there because he wanted to. 

“You should’ve stayed on the ground if this was going to happen.” 

Arthur screwed his eyes shut and tightened his arms around his stomach. “... Shut up.” 

“I was just saying.” Ivan murmured, looking at him over his shoulder. Poor guy. He really was down bad, wasn’t he? Down bad for you, that was. Too bad Arthur was hoping he wasn’t convinced--but it was too obvious. So all Ivan wanted was to prove his point, and later on, keep you away from him. But maybe he’d save it until after the ride was over. “... This ride is thirty minutes long. You’ll live.” 

He heard the other groan. “Thirty minutes? How long has it been?” 

“Mm... Ten.” 

“Fuck me.” 

Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be long before you would pull away from the railing and return to the company of the two. Arthur had been praying that somehow, you’d leave him alone sitting there, pathetically, but he couldn’t expect something so cold from you. So while he hung his head, he wasn’t surprised to feel your hand on his shoulder. 

“Hey, you okay?” He heard you ask, but he never looked up. 

“... Yeah. Just give me a minute.” 

“I have. Ten, actually.” Taking a seat beside him, you leaned down to peer at his face, which was a few shades paler than normal. He didn’t even have the energy to respond, and kept his eyes fixed to the ground. Concern immediately contorted at your features, especially when he looked so shaken. “Arthur, you look a little sick. What’s wrong? Can you talk?” 

He shook his head slowly before managing a weak smile at you. “Sorry, love.” It didn’t even faze him he just called you that. He was far too uncomfortable to feel the embarrassment from a nickname he should’ve saved until a little later. 

“I’m not... Too good with heights. Never have been... I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.” His voice was slow and faint, and you were beginning to suspect he was having a panic attack. “... Sorry if I seem a little lame.” 

“No, of course not.” You frowned. “Things like this happen. Just breathe with me, okay? You can do it. Just count to ten.” 

Arthur took a deep inhale. “... Okay.” 

Around ten minutes later of these exchanges, he calmed down some, especially when you kept on reminding him that the carriage was finally descending. Once the ride was over, you had to help him up and walk him out. Now that he had his two feet planted firmly on the ground, it didn’t take long for him to recover. Even then, you remained rather cautious and stuck with him on your journey to Soho. By the time everyone took their seats in Circolo Popolare, a beautiful Italian restaurant Arthur so kindly booked, you were still looking out for him.

Leaning over to rest your head on the table, you glanced up at his face with a soft smile. “... You okay now?” 

A light blush dusted his cheeks and he nodded. You didn’t need to be this observant with him considering he was well now, but he loved your attentiveness. It wasn’t something he was used to. “Yeah, I’m fine now. Thank you. Now quit worrying about me, alright?” Rubbing the nape of his neck at that, you couldn’t help lingering on his body language for a moment.

It didn’t matter what he dressed like, or what his personality was. He could be endearing when it came to it, and a total softie too. And the thought made you smile even wider. If he thought you were cute, then you thought he was adorable. “Fine. I’ll leave you alone.” You slowly turned to Ivan, the action making Arthur tense up a little. 

Reaching out to your hand, he took it. “I didn’t mean it like that.” 

The feeling of his warm fingers around yours made your heart skip a beat. Did he just? Your thoughts manifested into your look of shock, and you darted your eyes over his neutral expression to try and decipher it. Before you could come up with anything, there was a phone in your face, followed by a flash. 

“Wha--?” 

He turned the screen to you to reveal a photo of you, and in your opinion, it was the least flattering picture anybody had ever taken of you. “I said I’d take an uglier photo of you, didn’t I?” Arthur grinned, the words acting like a cold splash of water to bring you back to reality. 

“... You sneaky little shit.” You growled. “Delete that right now!” 

“How about no?” 

“I’ll never forgive you for this, Arthur.” 

“I think you already have, love. You’re smiling right now.” 

You stared at him wordlessly for a few seconds. Then, out of nowhere, you reached out to snatch his phone right out of his hands. Tapping furiously on the screen to get rid of it, you heard his chair scrape back violently as he tried to retrieve it. “Why, you--” 

But it was too late. Gone forever. Lost in the abyss of cyberspace. And so, he immediately channelled his frustration by jabbing his fingers into your sides. “If I can’t have that photo of you, at least let me do this!” You burst into a fit of laughter so loud, nearby patrons turned their heads. Only then did he pull away, leaving you to recover through breathless wheezing. 

“Fuck you, Arthur.” You whispered, but it was on an affectionate note more than anything. As you glowered at him from your seat, you never noticed Ivan doing the same thing, but he was glaring at the Brit for an entirely different reason. Arthur had to be the most self-aware person out there, and to make a scene in a restaurant like this? He really fell for you, didn’t he? 

When he realized Ivan’s scorching gaze burning into him, he froze. 

Not just out of how intimidated he was, but the epiphany that he was right all along. Why else was he acting so out of character? The only explanation was this--in the short time of being with you, he may or may not have developed a little crush. But that was no problem, right? 

All he needed to do was to ask you out. 

But that would prove a task easier said than done, especially when Ivan decided to attach himself to you by the hip after that stunt. That cunning bastard knew what he was doing. After a little window shopping around Bond street and Mayfair, he stuck to you like a tattoo, and kept it up until night fell. While the group walked around Camden, Ivan kept you by his side with a firm grip on your hand. 

When you asked why he was suddenly so clingy, he simply justified it with, “It’s dangerous for small people like you to wander around at night!” 

But Arthur called bullshit. Especially when the other went ahead and smirked at him right after saying it. Maybe he liked you too, but was refusing to admit it. How hypocritical. If not, then he probably didn’t want you making friends when you were the only friend he had. Whatever it was, he wasn’t about to back down so easily. Camden may be the last destination for the night, and perhaps, the last time he’d see you again for God knows how long, but it was his trump card.

If this didn’t sweep you off your feet enough to get you to pull away from Ivan, nothing would. 

As a town famous for its thriving nightlife and punk culture, it encompassed everything he was passionate about, and he’d give anything to show it to you. So he included a visit to the bar here on the agenda today, one that hosted live music. While you and Ivan got comfortable in your seats, Arthur never made a move to sit down. 

It was already dim inside, so you never noticed him leave. The next time you saw him, it was a few minutes later when he was on stage with a few other musicians. Leaning forward with surprise, you watched him strap on a bright red electric guitar. Walking up to the microphone, he adjusted that. No way. 

You were still trying to process him being a professional performer, but a lead singer as well? 

The second he strummed the strings to start a guitar riff, he opened his mouth to start singing.

Play this while you read

Show me how to lie, you're getting better all the time

And turning all against the one is an art that's hard to teach

His fingers never stopped moving as he belted out note after note. His voice was so different to how he talked, you had to do a double take. He sounded a little more rasp, a little more punk. To say you were impressed was an understatement. 

Now dance, fucker, dance, man, he never had a chance

And no one even knew it was really only you

While he jammed out on stage, he was electric. The energy in the bar exploded, and he had everyone singing along. You could almost see the confidence in him shoot up from the excitable crowd, because he was smirking. 

Nice work, you did. 

You’re gonna go far, kid! 

Turning his head to you as he sung that line, you raised a hand to your mouth. Whether he did that on purpose or not was a mystery. But no words could describe how attractive it was. Hell, it even made you mind blank for a few moments. This was Arthur? He was like an entirely different person! Needless to say, you were completely star struck. 

You couldn’t even make out what Ivan was telling you when the music was blaring in your ears. But you didn’t care. Arthur had you caught in a trance with his voice and guitar all until the end. When the song finally ended, the band bowed graciously and threw up hand signs as the audience erupted in applause and cheers. 

When he stepped off the stage, you didn’t hesitate to run up to him. There, you practically pounced on him for a tight embrace. “Oh my god, you were amazing! I didn’t know you could play so well! And sing, too! Why didn’t you tell me!?” You exasperated, pulling away to be met with his dazzling smile. It was the first time you’ve seen him so energetic, as if performing sparked a fire inside him that burned with youthful intensity. 

“I was dying to show you all day. I wanted it to be a surprise, and I had to save the best til’ last, didn’t I?” He grinned, feeling his heart swell up with warmth as he watched you light up. 

“Well, good on you! I loved it!” Squeezing him again, you felt his chest shake under his laughs. When you pulled away, you reached up to cup his face. But it felt so natural in the spur of the moment, even he didn’t seem to care. 

“Thanks again for today, Arthur. I really appreciate you taking us out today. You completely blew me away.”

The way how you phrased it reminded him of why he was here in the first place. That was right. He still had to ask you out. And with Ivan watching on from afar, this was his chance. The thought reddened his cheeks, but while you had his face in your hands, he couldn’t feel more comfortable. “Is that so? If that’s the case, how about I take you out again?” His expression grew serious. “A proper date, I mean.” 

It was your turn to blush, but you managed a quick answer. 

“No need to look so serious, love. Of course I’ll go on a date with you.” 

He chuckled and leaned in to peck your lips. “Stealing my vocabulary now, are we?” 

“Stealing kisses now, are we?” 

“Touché.” 

Now a third wheel of the group, he breathed out a soft sigh and rested his cheek on his hand. “I guess my job here is done.” It didn’t really look like it, but he had been trying to play the wingman all along. Arthur was always one to go a little crazy when he wanted something, and only more so when he was desperate. So all he gave him was a little push in the right direction. 

Maybe he would thank him later, but for now, he’d leave you two be. 

This is a request. Thank you for requesting.

#hetalia fanfiction #hetalia #aph #aph england #england x reader #aph england x reader #arthur kirkland #request #oneshot #hetalia x reader #Axis Powers Hetalia #Axis powers ヘタリア #alfredosauce50 #hetalia fanfic #ivan braginsky #aph russia #aph russia x reader #reader insert #x reader

[ready-to-obeyme]

[OM!] College!AU Zoom University Headcanons

For the 7 Demon Brothers + Solomon

Scenario: Headcanons about how you interact with the demon brothers online during online lectures via Zoom (an online video platform that universities have been using to teach classes) and their habits using it

Notes: gn!MC, Considering most universities (including mine) are all online AGAIN fall quarter and we’re going to be using Zoom forever……. i kinda wish i DID have online classes with the demon boys (and Solomon) 

--

Lucifer

Video off, mic off, no profile pic just the typical first and last name, so you don’t really talk to him but you do see his name pop up in the Zoom chat to ask clarification questions

Accidentally has his mic on sometimes

First time you interact with him is when you private message him “hey, I think your mic is still on” because everyone can hear his brothers arguing in the background

The mic is soon turned off and you get a response back “thanks. Sorry you had to hear all of that”

“Yeah no prob. How many brothers do you have anyways?”

“Too many.” 

Thus starts your relationship with him as zoom buddies, asking each other privately what the professor just said and some clarification questions

If you’re shy about asking stuff, he has no problems asking for you; never makes you feel dumb about your questions

first time you hear his voice during midterm season when the professor doesn’t see your messages (“you’d expect them to know how this all works by now” he messages you dryly) and he asks his question out loud before the professor can move on

(lowkey think he’s hot just from his voice) 

Then highkey finds out he’s hot when his video is accidentally on for a few seconds when he’s distracted with Asmo or Mammon in the background 

Bonus points if you tease him about it 

Shows up at office hours when the TA is late and you just talk to him, exchange emails and numbers ;) y’know for homework help

If you’re going to do group projects, he seeks you out first-- god forbid he’s stuck with someone who doesn’t do the work ONLINE

Mammon

Mic is ALWAYS accidentally on until the professor mutes him or tells him to mute himself 

“Oh, sorry prof!!! My b!!”

Private messages you on purpose to ask a clarification question because he doesn’t want to seem dumb asking it to everyone or to the professor

You wonder why he chose you but then you realize it’s because you had asked a question yourself earlier in the lecture or answered a question 

It becomes a recurring thing-- like EVERY lecture

If you’re not annoyed at him, then you might suggest that the two of you share a document for notes or tease him about just having you teach the lecture if he’s confused

“Actually, that sounds great!” he types to you before you could say jk “that’d help me a lot, thanks!!”

Smh why did you sign up for more work for yourself but oh well, he seems like a nice guy

Is also a very attractive guy, you realize, when you schedule a zoom meeting with him and actually see his face

Realizes why he keeps asking questions is because he plays card games on a split screen instead of paying attention to lecture (same tho)

Invites you to join him by private messaging you a link to join (and you do eventually when lectures gets boring)

Sometimes sends the invite link to the whole class by accident 

He admits he wouldn’t even attend lecture and would just watch the recording but you’re always there so he goes 

Which means you suppose you should keep going to lecture if anything to have him go as well 

Leviathan

Already the master of online classes tbh and has no problem with the format

Finds it kind of annoying when there’s technical difficulties, but he just quickly switches to a tab to watch anime 

Probably is just watching anime on another tab if the lecture gets boring or slow anyways

He’s always the first one to answer forum/discussion posts because he’s just very tech-savvy and good at replying to people

First interaction is probably him answering one of your questions on the discussion question and from then on after you start messaging him privately during lecture when you have a question you think he can help with

A little hesitant on helping you, but you’re also just really nice to him so he’s okay with helping you, I guess 

Give him your email? Why? So he can send you the book pdfs and previous practice tests of course, why else?? 

O-Oh, you want to add him on social media? Just to ask for homework questions right? Okay, yeah, sure! o////o 

If video is on, you see the reflection of anime in one of his mirrors and casually ask him which episode he’s on

Has never been so shook or attentive in his LIFE 

Satan

He is a godsend during every breakout room because he ACTUALLY TALKS instead of leaving you in a quiet room alone with three other strangers

You think you’re lowkey in love with him when he has no problems volunteering to present to the professor and putting his thoughts into words so eloquently

He also appreciate you talking during discussion too, and enjoys the conversations the two of you have while you’re not even sure the other blank profile pics are even there anymore 

He’s the one to suggest making a shared doc to share notes and study together-- the man is productive and efficient about this, what can I say?

Manages to convince you to go to office hours with him and meet up for studying hours and ooooh he’s hot 

He’s actually a very good study buddy, especially when he’s teaching you something you’re confused about, but also just good to study together with (when you’re not too busy staring at him) 

The only reason why you’re focused during class because he’d look disappointed at you if you weren’t-- that’s on you for caring about what he thinks, but he’s just so PUT TOGETHER how do you NOT look up to him?

Finds out that he’s actually just a mess like everyone else when his brothers come in during one of your study session and he says “excuse me,” mutes the mic and goes off screen; you can see some shadows in the back as satan shoves his brothers out of the room and manhandles them till they leave

Is kind of embarrassed he forgot to turn of video too but you just think it’s funny because you relate to the lack of privacy of online classes (and perhaps annoying siblings)

Asmodeus

How the hell does he look awake and lively at a 9am lecture class????

Is that make up??? Is he… wearing PANTS??? (you don’t remember the last time you put on actual pants)

The most functional-looking person in the entire zoom lecture, asides from the professor 

Has video on all the time-- because honestly why wouldn’t he? He actually looks good

Definitely not paying attention most of the time, and you see it on his face 

Messages you first when you actually wear something nice for once because you’re going to go to the supermarket afterwards

“Ooh, where’d you get that accessory??”

The two of you end up not paying attention AT ALL and instead just gush about each other’s outfits

Definitely is not afraid to ask for your social media so you can follow each other and ask for homework help I guess but MAINLY to talk to each other because online classes can get sooooo tedious 

Really really wants to be able to meet you in person someday when it’s safe (“we’d look so cute together!!!”) but settles for facetime or zoom meet-ups 

Really does not hesitate to make friends and make the best out of social situations despite remote format bless him 

The only time he doesn’t turn on video is after a night of drinking with his brothers (“it was mammon’s birthday” he types into the chat with you, “ugh i’m probably going to go lie down, let me know how lecture goes”)

Beelzebub

Always eating-- even if this wasn’t online, he’d also be the one to bring snacks-- his whole LUNCH to class to eat so this isn’t too surprising 

You think it’s hilarious when he actually brings his laptop or phone (whatever he’s using zoom with) to the kitchen and literally makes dinner during the lecture

Sometimes you watch his tiny video of him putting stuff into the oven than the lecture slides and you bet your entire class is doing that too 

Sometimes you ask him jokingly what he’s cooking and you’re surprised when he pauses and answers your question mid-dinner making

“Lasagna. You want some?” 

“Yeah send it over through mail bro”

You don’t actually know if he’s actually retaining any lecture information, but apparently he’s doing decent enough-- still, if you offer to share your notes, he’d be so grateful

“Where do you live?”

“Ldfjalskjd why are you going to send me food?” 

“Yeah. What’s your address? I’ll send you a box of cookies or something.” 

Basically he just does NOT care what the entire class sees him doing; he could be cooking, eating, working out-- he’s listening to the lecture out loud but he’s giving you a show (whether it’s a cooking show or a work out video depends on the time of day)

Belphegor

If the lectures are recorded, you’ll never see him, especially if the class is early in the morning LOL

If you do see him during lecture and video is on, he’s always in his pajamas or sleep clothes, a pillow in front of him 

During discussion, if video is required, he probably has a screenshot of himself awake as a profile picture so he can snooze away pretending like he’s actually there 

You definitely notice because he’s the first video to show up in your gallery and his video is like never moving HAHA

You finally message him when the TA splits you all into breakout rooms when you’re all supposed to be finding the answer or discussing something to be shared later

Kind of awkward at first because he’s like… asleep, but when he wakes up blearily, he does participate-- if only for your sake and for discussion points 

“Hey… wake me up if the TA or professor asks us any questions, will ya?” he says as he puts his head down and sleeps 

Since you and him are now officially breakout room buddies, you message him when you have a question and know that he’ll probably respond to you by the end of class because he actually knows the material despite sleeping through half of the class

Is actually very appreciative of you that you volunteer to speak on behalf of your breakout room if no one else does because that means HE doesn’t have to do it

Bonus:

Solomon

The one to make the groupchat/slack link and send it to everyone in the class so we could actually help each other in the class

Shares a link to a google folder with resources

Highkey more useful than a TA sometimes 

Super helpful, efficient, and charismatic… but suspiciously so

Like where did he get all these pdfs? Where did he get all these 100% test from previous years? And-- is that an answer key??? To what???

Video isn’t on ever, so you have no clue what he looks like… until you’re in the same discussion as him and he turns on his video for breakout rooms

He always, ALWAYS sits at the island in the kitchen and sips coffee whenever you have discussion with him 

Responds back to you almost immediately if you ask him questions during lecture (because honestly, why not-- he seems smart and has his life together) but if anyone messages him in the groupchat, surprisingly takes a while to reply… maybe he’s busy?

Anyhow you’re not gonna question it; you’re gonna pass this class and Solomon is carrying everyone to an A+

#obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me belphegor #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me #ZOOM UNIVERSITY BABY

[imanativeofswlondondahling]

Being A Stark (3)- Peter Parker x Stark!femReader

Word Count: 1852

Warnings: None I think...

Author’s Note: Honestly I love this chapter so much, so I hope you all enjoy it. Let me know your thoughts or if you want to be tagged in the future. 

Becoming A Stark || Chapter One || Master List

“Hey kiddo.” Your dad’s voice was the last thing you were expecting to hear while reading A Brave New World to get you ready for when you head off to classes. Technically this was the summer reading and you had already read it for the start of freshman year, but restarting ninth grade seems like a good reason to prepare yourself again. But you almost throw the book across the room at the sound of your dad’s voice. 

“Dad?” You set the book aside, flipping it over to hold your place, and stand up to walk over to the bed. “You’re awake.”

“Sure am.” His left hand reaches up to scrub at his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’ve spent all your free time here.”

“Ok, I won’t tell you then.” You say as you look him over. He’s worse for wear, but you’ve never been so happy to see his eyes open. He reaches his good arm to take your hand.

“I’ve missed you kiddo.”

“I’ve missed you being awake.” You say, knowing he’s talking about the five years you were gone. It still doesn’t feel like you missed all that time, but there’s little things that are different. People’s haircuts, tech updates… Morgan. You have an updated pump coming to the cabin since yours is out of warranty now. “I hear you did it.”

“Mastered time travel to get you back? Yeah I did.” He smiles at you as he takes in the fact that you haven’t changed even though you were gone for five years.

“I meant the closed loop system, but that’s cool too.”

“Oh yeah, that. Did that about a year after the Blip. Figured I’d make sure you came back to something better. Spent the next four years focusing on…” he trails off. “Doesn’t matter. But then Capsicle, Nat, and Pissant show up telling me that they want to try and get everyone back. I couldn’t give up a chance to get you back. Get everyone back.” You sit down on the side of his bed, holding his hand in yours, his thumb running along the ring Pepper had given you for your birthday.

“I met Morgan.” You say and you see worry and joy both wash over his face. 

“What do you think?”

“Well she took me by surprise. The whole Blip made everything feel like not even a day had passed. So having a five year old sister? That wasn’t something I was expecting. But she’s a pretty great kid.”

“She reminds me a lot of her older sister.” Tony says with a smile. 

“I should let Dr. Cho know you’re awake. And Mo- Pepper.”

“Hold on a second.” His good hand holds onto yours. “What’s with this calling Pep by her name and not Mom?” You shrug, not wanting to voice your thoughts. “Come on. Spill. Talk to your old man about it all.”

“She’s got her own kid now. It’s different.” You shrug again, feeling unable to fully explain that you don’t feel like your mom will want you anymore now that Morgan is here.

“Y/N, she was just as upset as I was when you Blipped. Even more upset when she found out she was pregnant and you weren’t going to get to be there when Morgan was born. You’re her kid too. There is no not wanting you just because Morgan is in the picture now too. Same goes for me. We both love both of you equally. Our little misses are just going to have to get used to sharing their mom and dad.” His hand tightens on yours. “Now I don’t think I’m supposed to be moving a ton, so you’re either going to have to come here so I can hug you or I’m going to break a lot of rules, because I��ve waited for five years to hug my kid.” You smile at him before diving towards your dad. Your arms wrap around him, careful of the arm that is just laying there, and you hold onto him. His good arm wraps around your back, holding you to him. “This is what I missed the most while you were gone.” He says before kissing your cheek.

“I hear you hugged Peter.” 

“I may have.”

“So does this mean you accept my boyfriend now?”

“If he makes you happy, I will put up with him.”

“Good.” You place a kiss on his cheek. “I’m going to grab Dr. Cho and call Mom.”

“You don’t have to go anywhere.” He says holding onto your hand, stopping you from getting up. “FRIDAY, tell Doc I’m awake.” You roll your eyes at not thinking about using FRIDAY. “Kiddo, you better know I’m not going to let you go very far for a while now. I spent five years without you.”

“I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.” You pull your phone out and shoot a message to your mom about Tony being awake. She’s only upstairs, using the kitchen in what used to be the apartment you lived in to make Morgan and you some lunch. “Did you know I have to restart ninth grade? I have to take Biology and Chemistry all over again and I’m going to die.” You say dramatically.

“I’ll be there every step of the way. Peter and I’ll make sure you pass. Just like last time.”

“I was barely passing last time.”

“But you already have the head start of having taken the first half of the semester.”

“That means nothing.” You say before another voice comes into the room.

“Daddy!” Morgan climbs up on the bed on his other side and gives him a big hug. “You slept longer than when I was sick.” She stares Tony down as if asking him to explain himself. She’s leaning away from his marked up arm, although most of it is covered by his hospital gown and the sling.

“I was really tired Morgana. Will you forgive me?” She nods her head before looking over at you. 

“Daddy, Y/N came back like you said she would.”

“She did, didn’t she?” Tony smiles at his youngest, wanting to reach out with his right hand to push her hair back, but it’s currently trapped in a sling and not wanting to do anything.

“She played Barbies with me yesterday. She’s much better at it than you are.” Morgan states as if it’s a fact. “You should have come back sooner.” She says to you.

“I don’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon. I think Dad might get mad if I do.” You stage whisper the last part to her. She shakes her head.

“He won’t get mad. He would just be really sad. He always got sad when he talked about you.”

“She’s got you there kiddo. I would miss you a lot if you left again.” Pepper sits next to Morgan, a hand drifting to place itself on Tony’s leg, needing to touch him.

“Hey.” Tony says, looking at Pepper. “Your eyes are red. Few tears for your long lost boss?” Tony smirks at her as if it’s an inside joke that you and Morgan won’t understand.

“If you ever do that again… I won’t be looking for a new job. I’ll be looking for a new husband, you understand that?” 

“I missed the wedding?” You can’t help but interrupt. You should have caught it when Peter called her Mrs. Stark, but now you’re realizing what happened. Pepper turns from looking at your dad to looking at you.

“You didn’t really miss much. We eloped.” She explains.

“Wanted to be married before a certain miss, but didn’t feel right doing a whole big ceremony when all the important people would be missing.” Tony adds.

“Couldn’t have a wedding without my maid of honor.” Pepper smiles at you. “So now that you’re back, guess we can do a vow reunion or a real wedding or something.”

“Wait you’re serious? Me? Maid of honor?” You stumble over the words not fully believing what your mom was saying.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I have my daughter be my maid of honor?”

“Because you want someone older to do it?”

“If there’s going to be a wedding can I be the flower girl?” Morgan interrupts.

“Of course you can.” Tony reaches over to ruffle Morgan’s hair as Pepper comes to sit next to you.

“There is no one I would rather as my maid of honor than you.” She wraps an arm around you. “You’re the only one I can trust to make everything perfect. Honestly the only people that have to be at the wedding are you, Tony, and Morgan. Anyone else who is there is just a bonus. That’s why we couldn’t have the wedding without you.”

“I understand that. I just... I’m fifteen. You want a fifteen year old as your maid of honor? You could have anyone in the whole world. You could have one of the Avengers.” You point out. 

“I could. But I want my daughter. And she’s back. So let’s plan a wedding.” She places a kiss on your cheek. “Sound good Maid of Honor?” 

“Yeah, I guess so.” 

“So I hear our patient is wide awake now.” Dr. Cho’s voice comes from the door.

“What’s the diagnosis Doc? How soon can you break me out of here?” Tony asks.

“Got to run a few tests, but I would say hopefully next couple days?” Dr. Cho looks at all the people sitting with Tony. “I may have to ask a few people to get off the bed so I can look you over.”

“Lunch was basically ready upstairs. How about the girls and I go eat and we’ll be back after?” Pepper suggests trying to get out of Dr. Cho’s hair.

“I’ll take Morgan upstairs. You stay with Dad.” You suggest. You know Pepper will want to know what’s going on anyway. This makes more sense. “You can come join us for lunch after the tests.”

“Ok.” You stand from the bed, stick your bookmark in your book you had forgotten about, before reaching for Morgan. You swing her off the bed and she squeals with laughter. 

“Come on Momo. Let’s go upstairs. Maybe we can find some juice pops.” You whisper the last part loudly. Morgan giggles as she grabs onto your hand. 

“Can we bring Daddy one later? He got hurt. He deserves a juice pop.” Morgan looks up at you with doe like eyes.

“I think we could probably do that.” You and Morgan walk towards the elevator as Morgan rambles on about different things. You honestly love the chatter of your little sister. Over the past few days, it’s filled the silence that your dad normally would and that calmed you some. 

“Daddy’s going to be all better now right Y/N?” Morgan asks as you step on the elevator. “His arm still has a booboo.”

“His arm does have a booboo, but Dr. Cho is going to look at it and do what she can to help it. But Dad is going to be around for a long time.”

...A Stark Tag list: @persephonehemingway  @iamaunicorn4704  @furiouspockettoad  @daughter-of-stark  @eternalharry  @huntective-kyeo @riiis-stuff @sunnyoongles @cosmicqueenieb @sovereignparker @bbarnestan @teenwishes08 @iamthescarlettwitch @skyfallstilinski @cutie1365 @a-mnd @youarethereasonimsmiling @thefemalestorywriter @krazykendraisnotinsane @cathy8taffy @letssee2468 @babyreads @riyanna @theatregeek @bubblebunbun

Permanent tag list: @wormonastringonastick​

strike won’t let me tag

#peter parker #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker fanfic #peter parker x reader #peter parker fan fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fan fiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker fan #tony stark #tony stark daughter #tony stark x daughter!reader #tony stark can't be dead if you just don't let yourself believe it #tony stark is a good dad #pepper potts #pepper potts is the worlds best mom #morgan stark #dr cho #dr helen cho #being a stark #becoming a stark #imanativeofswlondondahling

[hatchetfieldtheories]

Return to Hatchetfield-Town - TGWDLM Part 2

Oh my god, we’re back again. Brothers, sisters, everybody sing – wait no

It’s TGWDLM part 2! Today we talk about coffee, those police siren sounds and we begin looking into Hidgens… god help us.  It also features a new theory I haven’t actually posted on the blog yet.

Also, please let me know if you’re enjoying these. They do take a lot of time, but they are a lot of fun to put together.

Part 1 | Part 3

Reality is falling apart as I stand here today… I guess it’s time for a coffee break

This is how I have entered every Starbucks I have ever been to.

Hey Starkid, when can we get a full version of the Black Coffee song?  

Has it been established yet whether Nora and Zoey had already been infected when they were teaching Emma the new tip song.  If yes, why did they just teach Emma the tip song and not infect her?  Just to embarrass her mid-song when she didn’t know the rest of the dance?  Or…

Thomas Sanders Voice – Theory Time

So at the end of Part 1, I established that the Hive had picked Paul to be their Hero, their star, way, way, early on at the start of their apotheosis.  Once we move into Let It Out/ Inevitable I’ll talk about this more, but basically – there is a reason they want Paul to survive the start of the show.  There is a reason the infected (and later McNamara) keep pressing him on what he wants. They need him to want something, so that they can get what they want, because that’s how the Worrisome Wombles (LiB) work.  They want him to want to destroy them, so he can be with Emma – that’s his drive. They’re very aware that without a want, they may not be able to manipulate him to do what they need.

Therefore it’s very possible that if Nora and Zoey had been infected early on, yet hadn’t infected Emma, it was because they were sure Emma would be the “thing” that Paul wants – they want their star of the show and they think they know who they can use to get it. /End of theory

Promise me you’ll think about the implications.

@abiimaryy​  can I just post your one post  that perfectly encapsulates that Starkid definitely did not think about the implications of that line when they wrote it? We’ve all long gone past the point of no return.

“Cup of Roasted Coffee” is track 4 on Now That’s What I Call Coffee. “Poisoned Coffee” is the album hidden track that you must play 20 minutes of silence to find.  Is this an old person reference now?

I also fully believe the coffee shop patrons were already beginning to be infected when the song began. Sure they were poisoned and their coffee contained the blue goo but the “in-time coffee cup dancing” and exaggerated synchronous sips is just too on the nose.  Their infections begun, they just needed that dose of poisoned coffee to kill them off to fully take them over.

At this point the Hive are still not particularly violent – ignoring the fact they kill three men with poisoned coffee in broad daylight.  

The cat is clearly not a secret Eldritch being

There’s nothing I love more than a fourth wall break, and Starkid have regularly establish fourth walls do not exist in their universes.  I can’t decide which is more telling of some kind of Hatchetfield link with the audience, Jon and Lauren wandering through the alley, or Joey giving the audience member an apple.   There is a wonderful theory that the audience is part of the B&W which @wolvesandvoices​  put into words here: x

“I didn’t think about the implications!” – me thinking back to that time 12 years ago when I discovered something called Harry Potter the musical by someone called Starkid. They were a funny group of people – wonder what they’re all doing now.

Paul’s work friends one by one popping out of the trash cans is hilarious, but its notable again that Mr Davidson was infecting people in his office – Bill notes that people kept coming out singing.  On my first watch I didn’t really take note of this, and just assumed Paul got out of the office before Mr Davidson could infect him, but taking into account the theories mentioned above and previously, this line just reaffirms that the Hive do not yet want Paul infected.

Who is the latte hottay? Answers on a postcard.

These aren’t spirit fingers... THESE are spirit fingers

Ted really doesn’t fully grasp the severity of what is happening around him.  The police are singing at you Ted, I don’t think they’re too fussed about your ID.  

I don’t really have much to say about Show Me Your Hands – it doesn’t really add much to theory fodder until the end.  That’s not to say I don’t love it, its one of my top songs in the show (tho I think all of the songs are in my top songs… I’m very indecisive). Shout out to Mariah’s dry delivery of “the cat is dead” and Robert’s siren noises.  My sincere hope is that in a future Hatchetfield production there is a need for a siren sound effect, and it is just a recording of Robert.

Charlotte touched the brain. The blue brain.  The brain covered in goo.  Pokey’s blue goo.  I’m sure that’s fine and has no ramifications later in the show.  

It is at this moment on my first watch that I realised how much Charlotte’s voice in this show sounds like Judy Garland.  

Oh Hidgens. He’s finally arrived.  Does he need an introduction?  From what I have seen from a lot of posts as people discover TGWDLM, a lot of people know about Hidgens before they even know what the show is about.  Which you know what, fair.  I’m sure Hidgens would be thrilled to discover his legacy.  I feel like it’s obvious, but I am assuming Robert intended Hidgens to sound like Doc from Back to the Future? Hmmm, a kooky “academic” who has an accident and ends up with a vision of something that could change the world.  Great Scott!

Hidgens, my dear, please don’t gesture to yourself while holding a gun.

Ok, so Hidgens theorised this exact scenario thirty years ago. I believe it has been established this happened when he was struck by lightning.  Now, lightning is used a LOT in Hatchetfield shows, and I did mention briefly here, that it could possibly be a play on the trope that in books and movies, the “creature comes alive” from a bolt of lightning.  Certainly the meteor is accompanied by a storm, which does make me believe that Hidgens was granted the vision by someone from the Black and White. Theories:

Pokey sent him the vision because he knew that it would entice Hidgens eventually due to his love of musical theatre. 

Webby sent him the vision in the misplaced hope that he would work on finding a solution

I also found a tweet by Nick which states that initially Hidgens was supposed to talk about the 1518 Dancing Plague which honestly – what does this mean.  Was this plague originally intended to be an early attempt by Pokey to infect the world?

Hidgens touched the brain. The blue brain.  The brain covered in goo.  Pokey’s blue goo.  I’m sure that’s fine and has no ramifications later in the show.  

I posted  a while back about the concept that Hidgens actually got infected early in the show, which has further implications for the likes of Charlotte also, but for now I’ll just post this really succinct theory by @westcoastbroadway​: x

Hatchetfield High Homework:

What other songs would feature on Now That’s What I Call Coffee?

Consider an AU where Prof Hidgens and Doc Brown are swapped.  How different would TGWDLM and Back to the Future be?

Once again, follow the wonderful people mentioned in the post.

See you in part 3 for Charlotte Theories and sad Bill time.

#the guy who didn't like musicals #tgwdlm #hatchetfield #hatchetfield theory #hatchetfield theories #starkid would totally do this #team starkid #return to hatchetfield town

[thiswasinevitableid]

76. it’s my birthday and you just fucking ruined my party and I don’t even know you

Danbrey, sfw or nsfw, please!

Here you go! I went SFW on this one

“Wow, dude, this is so fancy.” Jake takes in the dining room of Yosemite Lodge, “look, napkins!”

“Jake, we have cloth napkins back home.” Dani smiles fondly; while she’s more interested in the location and the decor, she agrees with her brothers overall enthusiasm.

The rest of Amnesty Lodge, where Dani lives and works, pooled their resources to surprise her with a weekend trip to Yosemite for her twenty-fifth birthday. She would have been happy camping, but they even went to the trouble of booking rooms in the main lodge and scheduling her a birthday dinner in the restaurant that looks out onto the valley.

Mama whistles at the menu from her seat at the head of the table, “damn, this is a good lookin dinner.”

Dani picks up the single sheet of paper, the silver writing informing her the meal with consist of a summer salad, shrimp scampie, and a strawberry rhubarb tart for dessert. When she glances across the table, Barclay is smiling down into his water glass.

“Oh my god, did you request a specific menu just for me?”

Her friend nods, blushing a little, “Head chef is an old friend from my line cook days.”

“Aw, you guys.” She sips the fancy cider Barclay ordered for the table, “you didn’t have to do all this.”

“You ain’t had a real party in years; seemed time to fix that.” Mama’s about to say something else when the fire alarm blares through the room and a server asks that everyone please exit through the side doors into the courtyard.

“Probably just a false alarm.” Barclay leans against a decorative rock.

“Uh, dudes? I smell smoke.”

Dani cranes her neck, tracks the path of the curling smoke through the lights from the windows to the main meeting room on the bottom floor of the hotel. A woman about her age, dressed entirely in red and black with, “The Lady Flame” emblazoned on her sparkly jacket, is talking and gesturing rapidly with disgruntled staff.

Two minutes later, the same woman steps onto the lawn with a sheepish smile.

“Hi everyone! It’s safe to go back in now. I, um, there was a tiny accident with some flashpaper. I think. Anyway, point is, I’m super sorry and there’s no more fire so please come enjoy my show. Oh, but, um, we have to move to the dining room due to some, um, ash.”

Just as she says this, one of the servers whispers in Barclays ear.

“Fuck. Sorry gang, sounds like we gotta postpone until tomorrow; whatever party booked ms fireball over there is gonna take up the whole restaurant.”

Dani sighs, resigning herself to a night of vending machine dinner as they head back inside. Then a hand settles on her arm and she’s locking eyes with the person who just ruined her evening.

“Hey, I always ask the cutest girl in the audience to be my assistant for the next bit. Do you want to-”

She pulls her arm away, “Yeah, hard pass, I’m not in whatever group decided to book you. I’m the person who’s birthday is getting turfed for your party.”

The magician cringes, “EEsh, I’m so sorry, I’ll, um, I’ll just.” She steps back, eyes glued to her black boots. As Dani continues into the lodge, she swears she hears the same voice go, “aw beans.”

---------------------------------------------------------

The spring sunshine feels perfect, the breeze is gentle, and there are literal bluebirds calling around her. Dani feels like a dang disney princess as she naps on a rock near one of the meadows.

Something--a chipmunk, she assumes--munches the grass below her.

“Dr Harris Bonkers, no! This is a national park and I’m not letting my only son go to jail for vandalism.”

Dani rolls onto her side in time to see the magician from last night scooping a massive, orange rabbit from the ground. When she straightens enough to notice she’s not alone, the woman freezes.

“Um. Hi. Again.”

“Hi.” Not feeling like rehashing last night, she studies the rabbit, “should he really be running around out here?”

“Not even remotely. He was supposed to stay in my room, but he gnawed his way out of his carrier, hopped onto the windowsill, and decided to bounce when he saw all the plants out here.” She cautiously sits on the edge of the rock, rabbit in her lap, “I really am sorry about last night. I never used to have problems during my shows, but lately it’s like my flashpaper has a freaking mind of its own. I was kinda hoping it wouldn’t screw with anybody’s plans but mine.”

“It’s fine.” Dani shrugs, “we’re just going to do a dinner re-do tonight.”

The woman bites a matte black lip, “Could I, um, make it up to you?”

“How?”

“Well, it’s your birthday, right? You’re supposed to spend your birthday doing things you like, so I could, like, keep you company while you do them?”

It would be nice to have a hiking buddy. Mama is taking a well-deserved nap, Barclay is off for a swim, and Jake found some rock climbers to hang with. And while the Lady Flame looked good last night, today she’s downright gorgeous. The dyed-red streaks in her curly, black hair, the freckles, black shorts that make her butt look incredible, all of it adds up to someone Dani wouldn’t mind spending the day with.

“Do you have shoes you can hike in?”

She kicks up one leg, showing off her Doc Martens, “I once walked five miles in these with no problems.”

“Great. Let’s get the doctor” she rubs the rabbit’s ears, “somewhere safe and get on the trail.”

--------------------------------------------

The hike’s only three and a half miles, but it’s taking them a long time to complete it. Not because they’re slow, but because Aubrey (as the Lady Flame calls herself) keeps stopping to look at or point out any interesting thing that catches her eye. It’s adorable.

Dani likes when she points out plants, because then she can show off a little.

“Dang, you really know your plants.” Aubrey stoops to take a picture of some Scarlet Monkeyflower.

“I run the teaching garden out back of the Lodge. Uh, Amnesty Lodge, where I live, not this one.”

“Coooool. I keep thinking about making Dr. Harris Boners a little garden when I finally find a place to stay put for awhile, but everything is always about how to keep bunnies out of your garden.”

“I mean, they can really trash it if you’re not careful.”

“I believe it, Dr. Harris Bonkers can take out a whole patch of rug in, like, ten minutes.”

“Herbs would probably be okay, clover too. I guess it depends on how much space you have.”

“Probably not much” Aubrey holds out a hand to help her across a creek, “traveling magicians don’t make much.”

Their talk turns to Aubrey’s life on the road, and her various misadventures trying to transport a fifteen pound rabbit on public transit. When they reach the waterfall that marks the trails end, they slip off their shoes and socks to dip their feet in the nearby pond, shoulders touching as they compare notes on growing up in sometimes stressful family situations.

It’s well after lunchtime when they get back, so they sit in the meadow and split a bag of chips, shooing away several overly ambitious squirrels. Mama joins them for a bit, and Dani smiles when she notices how quickly the older woman takes to Aubrey. Mama can never turn down a stray.

Dani’s already scheming for how to spend the last day of her vacation with Aubrey when the magician turns down her invitation to dinner. She’s a little disappointed, but Aubrey promises she’ll see her later.

Her birthday dinner redux is halfway into its second course when the lights at the front of the room brighten and the ones above her dim.

“And now, as an added, surprise treat for this evening's meal, the magnificent Lady Flame is here to dazzle you all with her astounding feats of magic!” The server at the edge of the room gives a thumbs up and Aubrey bounds into view, smile glittering brighter than her outfit.

To Dani’s delight, Aubrey is an amazing magician; her tricks are interesting, her patter is the same funny, energetic pace that their conversations were this afternoon, and her assistant is adorable. When she declares she needs a volunteer for her next trick, she’s holding her hand out to Dani before anyone else can raise theirs.

The trick turns out to be picking cards and showing them to the audience, though Dani notices Aubrey devotes as much sleight of hand to brushing their fingers together as she does to her act.

“And now, esteemed audience, I will produce a flower from my lovely assistant's hair!”

Dani smiles, then claps along with everyone else as Aubrey produces a spring of Larkspur from thin air. Literally, Dani cannot for the life of her tell where she was hiding it. Or how she was able to get what Dani said was her favorite flower on such short notice.

Aubrey finishes up her act (and doesn’t set anything on fire) to thunderous applause, and Dani spots Mama leaning over to whisper something to Barclay, who nods thoughtfully. It’s only after the magician has taken her last bow that Dani has a horrible realization; Aubrey went to all that trouble to make her birthday dinner memorable, and she didn’t get to eat any of it.

Her white sandals sink into the carpet as she carries a plate down to Aubrey’s room. When her new friend opens the door, she’s between worlds; sparkly jacket on top, red pajama pants on the bottom.

“I brought you some cake. Or, uh, I guess it’s a tart.” She holds out the plate and Aubrey takes it, cheeks going pink, “since you didn’t get the rest of the dinner.”

“Thanks” Aubrey steps back so Dani can join her in the room, “it’s chill that I didn’t get to join you all; I wanted to make up for ruining your dinner last night.”

“You already did way more than that. Aubrey, this was the nicest day I’ve had in months, and most of that is because I got to spend it with you.”

“I dunno, feel weird getting cake from a thing I crashed.” Aubrey is fidgeting with her bracelets, blushing harder every time she looks up and finds Dani still smiling at her.

“Can I give you something else instead?” Dani takes a half-step forward.

“Sure! What-” Aubrey’s words fade into a little sigh as Dani wraps her arms over her shoulders. Then her back bumps into the nightstand as Aubrey throws herself into a kiss.

“Hey” Dani teases, nibbling her ear as Aubrey holds her tighter, “you messed up my big reveal.”

“Aw dang, guess I’ll have to make it up to you.” Aubrey slips her hands down to the small of her back, “how does even more making out sound?”

Dani pulls her towards the bed, heart buzzing with warmth at the sight of her smile and the touch of her hands, “like the best birthday gift ever.”

#danbrey #aubrey little/dani #taz amnesty #meet ugly

[coffeeinallcaps]

wip/rip meme: sw poe panic attacks

(Send me an ask with the title that most intrigues you and I’ll post a little snippet of it or tell you something about it!) In which Poe is FINE, he’s JUST FINE, GUYS, NO PROBLEMS HERE.

Two weeks after the Battle of Starkiller Base, Poe wakes up without a headache for the first time since Jakku. Sitting up doesn’t make him feel sick, and the lights don’t set off stabs of pain behind his eyes. There’s no wave of dizziness when he gets to his feet.

Sweet, he thinks before making his way to the refresher.

--

BB-8 is running preflight diagnostics when Poe gets to the hangar. The others are already there. Bastian is walking around his ship, checking the underside of the hull. Jessika waves at Poe from where she’s talking to one of the ground technicians, her helmet tucked under her other arm. Poe waves back.

“Morning, sunshine,” Iolo says, slapping Poe on the shoulder as Karé says, “All right, boss?”

“Yeah,” Poe says, and he means it. He feels good, well rested in a way he hasn’t felt since, well.

The feeling lasts until they’re about to take off.

One moment he’s fine. The next the canopy is coming down, closing in around him, and he panics.

The feeling doesn’t register as panic right away. It’s—it’s something primal, a sudden visceral overwhelming sense of wrong, something is wrong, he needs to get out of here—

“Stop,” he says, “BB-8, stop, abort,” and BB-8 overrides the control system, beeps inquisitively. Poe can’t answer the question, because he’s breathing too fast and too loud—heart beating wildly in his chest, throat, ears—and he’s already strapped in but he needs to get out, he’s stuck and the cockpit is way too small, there’s not enough room, not enough air, he can’t think, can’t breathe.

That’s when he realizes, I’m panicking.

It’s like his consciousness has split in two. He’s right here, gasping for air and ineffectually tugging at the buckles of his harness, but another part of him is divorced from all this, hovering somewhere in the back of his own mind thinking What. The. Hell.

What the hell are you doing, Dameron. Calm the fuck down. Get your shit together. You’re being irrational.

And yes, he knows, he knows that, knows it doesn’t make sense, but he needs to get out.

The buckles finally give way, and he’s moving, scrambling out of the cockpit, down the ladder that hasn’t been retracted yet. His foot slips on the last rung. He stumbles backward until his back is pressed up against something.

He still can’t breathe, still feels trapped—he reaches for his helmet, it takes him three tries to undo the chin strap, he manages to wrench the helmet off his head and lets it drop to the floor.

He’s sweating. His chest is heaving under his flak vest. It feels like he’s being punched in the diaphragm over and over again, like he’s going to be coughing up blood any second from now. Like Kylo Ren—

The vest needs to come off, too, but his hands keep slipping on it.

People are standing around him. He can see the scuffed toes of their boots, the dirty orange and olive green legs of their flight suits. “Take it off,” he hears himself say, between gasps, “take it off, take it off,” and they help him out of the vest, pull open the collar of his flight suit.

The part of Poe’s mind that is hanging back notes that this is embarrassing. A deeply humiliating experience. The part of Poe’s mind that’s panicking is unable to register it as such. The observation emerges behind an impenetrable transparisteel panel. It’s right there, he can see it, but he can’t reach it and it can’t reach him.

Someone—Jess?—says, sharply, “Step back, guys, give him some fucking space,” and someone else says, “No, I think—” and Poe closes his eyes, thinks, Yes, space, I need space, give me space and then two arms are winding tight around him. No, let go, he thinks, eyes still closed, Let me go I need and then Finn? but it can’t be Finn, Finn is still in the med bay, still in a coma, Finn is—

He struggles, half-heartedly. It’s a relief to have something physical to struggle against, instead of just the awful sense of terror ballooning in his chest, clawing at his windpipe. It gives him something to focus on. His panicking self and his observing self merge. The transparisteel panel between them drops away, and shame comes rushing in.

He takes a gulping breath and goes limp.

It’s Bastian who’s holding him. He’s trapped again, trapped between the wall and Bastian’s body, but Bastian’s body is warm and familiar and hiding him from view so it’s not too bad, really, to be trapped here. When he looks straight ahead, he can see the vast expanse of the hangar. The rectangle of sunlight at the end is a comforting sight.

This whole thing can’t have lasted longer than, what, five minutes? ten minutes? but Poe is fucking exhausted. He’s shaking, he realizes.

“Hey,” Jess says. “Poe.”

It’s just her and Bastian now. The others are gone.

Another hot, nauseating rush of shame washes over him.

“Poe. Look at me.” Jess is dabbing Poe’s face with her sleeve. It comes away soaked, he sees. Her other hand brushes against his cheek. “You with us?”

Poe nods. He’s still catching his breath. He doesn’t think he can speak. He thinks that if Bastian let go of him, he’d crumble to his knees.

Bastian doesn’t let go. He takes a small step back, but keeps his hands on Poe’s shoulders.

We’re late, Poe thinks. We need to leave. He wants to say it out loud, but the thought of getting back into his ship makes his throat close up again and a fresh layer of sweat break out on his forehead.

Jess wipes it away. She and Bastian are talking with their eyes. Poe appreciates the fact that neither of them is asking him what the hell just happened. He also appreciates the fact that neither of them is asking him if he’s okay.

The moment stretches on.

They’re late. They need to leave.

He can’t fucking get it past his teeth.

“You guys should go,” Poe says eventually, the words scraping at the dry inside of his throat. His voice sounds raw, wrecked.

Jess lets out a sigh of relief. “Oh, good,” she says. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

It’s the only right thing to say. He’d be putting all of them in danger if he tried to fly, let alone lead a mission, in this condition. He takes a breath. Still that pressure in his chest, like there’s a wet cloth lodged between his lungs and his ribcage. It’s like trying to breathe in deeply on a hot and humid planet. Like trying to breathe when Ren—

Poe swallows, shakes his head, says, “We have to...”

“Snap’s on his way down here,” Jess says. “We’ll be all right. I’ll take it from here. The only thing you have to do is go see Dr. Kalonia.”

“I’ll walk with you,” Bastian offers, and Poe wants to say no, wants to tell them to get out of here, it’s fine, he’ll be fine, but then he realizes one of his hands is fisted into Bastian’s flight suit, clenched so tight his fingers have gone numb. It hurts to let go.

One of Bastian’s hands stays on Poe’s lower back, barely there, as they walk. Poe doesn’t stop at the med bay. Bastian wordlessly keeps up with him.

“Thanks, buddy,” Poe says when they get to his quarters.

“Anytime,” Bastian says, with a small, soft smile that makes Poe want to sink through the floor.

He lies back on his bed with his arms folded over his face. They’re trembling. His whole body is trembling. He closes his eyes and tries to block out his thoughts.

He doesn’t move until the doors slide open.

“Poe,” Dr. Kalonia’s voice says.

Poe says, “Doctor.”

His head doesn’t swim when he pushes himself up on his hands. It doesn’t quite feel like the victory it did this morning. The familiar sour taste at the back of his throat is back, but he guesses it has little to do with a lingering concussion and more to do with what happened in the hangar just now.

Kalonia doesn’t start off by asking him questions, which—again—Poe appreciates. She sits down next to him on the bed. Her fingertips are light on his cheek when she checks his pupil response. She listens to his heart and lungs, takes his pulse.

“Headaches been bothering you?” she asks.

Poe shakes his head.

“Dizzy spells?”

“Not anymore.”

“When did your symptoms go away?” After a pause, during which she puts her flashlight back into her pocket and loops her stethoscope around her neck again, she adds, “I’m assuming they went away, because you never did come back for a final check-up.”

“Um,” Poe says, scratching the back of his neck. Dr. Kalonia reminds him of his grandmother sometimes; there are very few people in the galaxy who can inspire this amount of guilt in him this quickly. “I felt pretty good this morning?” He can’t help but add, “And in my defense, we’ve all been pretty busy.”

“From what my droids tell me, it seems you are perfectly capable of finding the time to stop by the med center for other reasons.”

Finn.

“Well, I mean, all’s fair in love and war, right?” Poe says. And then, “I am sorry, Doc.”

She smiles. “Don’t worry about it. Trust me, I would’ve known where to find you if I needed to.”

“That sounds vaguely threatening, Doc.”

“Good.” She sits back. “Look, Poe, I could run some more tests, but as far as I can tell there’s nothing physically wrong with you right now.”

“Clean bill of health, then,” Poe jokes.

“Not quite, I’m afraid.”

The doors slide open again.

“Oh,” Rey says, looking at Dr. Kalonia. “I’ll go.” She doesn’t move.

“It’s fine,” Poe says.

“I can wait.”

“It’s fine.”

Rey shrugs, then crosses the room and perches on the windowsill with her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. There’s dirt under her fingernails. She smiles at Poe.

He smiles back at her.

“I don’t think there’s anything physically wrong with you,” Dr. Kalonia says. “I think you had a panic attack. A severe one.”

(MORE TALKING)

(KALONIA LEAVES)

Poe throws one arm over his eyes again. “Come over here?” he says, flinging out his other arm in Rey’s direction, palm upward.

It’s a suggestion, not a request. He and Rey have been thrust together through their mutual connection with Finn. They’ve been spending a lot of time at his bedside together. Poe still hasn’t figured Rey out, not entirely, and he’s pretty sure Rey still hasn’t figured him out, either. Rey is still figuring herself out, life on the Resistance base seeming both exciting and overwhelming to her.

The mattress dips under Rey’s weight. She leaves some space between their bodies, but she puts her hand on his stomach, pillows her head on his arm. He can hear her breathe, soft and calm.

“Are you okay?” she says eventually, cautiously. There’s something about the way she asks the question that briefly makes Poe’s chest feel like it’s caving in.

He clears his throat, says, “Yeah.”

He doesn’t sound very convincing. She doesn’t call him out on it.

“Wanna go outside?” she says. “It’s sunny. There’s fresh air, and trees.”

“Really,” Poe says.

She shoves him.

“Careful,” he says reflexively. “Don’t damage the goods.”

Rey says, unimpressed, “Seriously?”

Poe’s chest still hurts. He lets his arm slide off his face, presses the heel of his palm against his ribs. It doesn’t help.

“You know what, fresh air sounds pretty good,” he says, sitting up.

“Good call,” Rey says.

#coffee chats #star wars #scribbles #1k of poe angst for you my friend