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cali-holland · 4 years

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Risky Quizness- Tom Holland One Shot

Pairing: Tom Holland X Reader

Requested by Anon: meeting tom at one of the pub quizzes he goes to at his local pub, he and his mates need more people on their team to sign up, so they asks you and a couple of your friends to join, you and him connect. Xxoo

Prompt: When you meet Tom at a pub quiz, sparks fly between the two of you.

Word Count: 1800

A/N: Huge shoutout to @saysomethingspiderman for being a major help with this one. I’m hella American and never experienced a pub quiz before lol aka brits dont hate me for this

Masterlist Tom Holland Masterlist

*Gif is not mine*

~~~

“Damn it.” Tom muttered, looking at his phone with a frown.

“What?” Harrison asked, sitting next to him at the table with their two pints.

“Harry just texted me. He’s sick.” He replied. “And Sam’s with his girlfriend and you know mum would never let me take Paddy.”

“So it’s just us then?” The blond let out a sigh.

Pub quizzes weren’t much fun with two people. Normally, they’d go with Tuwaine, Harry, and Sam- sometimes even Sam’s girlfriend would tag along, but Tuwaine had a family thing come up, and now the twins had bailed.

“We could always try to find someone to join our team? Right?” Tom offered weakly, and his friend shrugged.

“We’d have to find people willing to actually join us.” He stated and Tom nodded. The pub was already filling up with hopefuls for the pub quiz, there was no way they’d find others to team up with them-

“You can’t do a pub quiz with two people! It just doesn’t work like that!” You let out a frustrated groan as you passed by Tom’s table with your friend. And just like that, a light bulb went off in Tom’s head as he jumped after you.

“Hey, wait!” He called out and you and your friend paused, turning to him skeptically as you held your drinks.

“You only have two people for the quiz? My mate and I are also a team of two. Did- did you want to, maybe, join us?” Tom asked, realizing how stupid it sounded to ask that out loud- to ask a couple strangers to be on his team for a pub quiz. Your friend looked at you and you contemplated it for a moment.

“Sure, but we better win.” You stated, following a triumphant Tom back to his table (much to Harrison’s surprise). You sat down in an empty chair, leaving one open between you and Harrison, and Tom slid into it.

“I’m Tom, and this is Harrison.” He introduced the two of them.

“Y/N, this is Jess.” You replied with a smile. The quizmaster quickly made his way around the pub, handing out a sheet of paper to each of the teams.

“What should our name be?” Tom asked, looking at the paper in front of him.

“Risky Quizness.” You said simply and Jess let out a laugh beside you.

“Risky Quizness?” Tom and Harrison both repeated, and you nodded.

“Every time we’ve used that name, we’ve won the pub quiz.” You stated.

“That’s because the only time we’ve won it was our name!” Jess added, and you rolled your eyes at her.

“We still won. Maybe we wouldn’t have been second last time if our name was Risky Quizness, not Universally Challenged.” You picked up the pencil from the table and grabbed the paper from in front of Tom.

“Risky Quizness, like the Tom Cruise movie?” Tom asked you, a small smile on his face.

“I’m writing it!” You announced and Jess groaned, but the boys just laughed.

“In case you couldn’t tell, she runs the quiz.” She teased.

“Shove off.” You groaned, “I’m competitive.”

“How many of these have you won?” Tom inquired. He honestly wasn’t sure how well he and Harrison would do with their usual team; by the end of the night, he would have always had enough beers to be a bit hazy on how many he actually knew on his own. He wanted to do well though because who didn’t love winning? And he also may have wanted to impress you a little.

“Just the one.” You mumbled, not wanting to fully admit it, “But we keep coming in second. There’s this group at our usual place called Let’s Get Quizzical and they win every single time. So we’re here in hopes that they won’t be.”

“What about you two?” Your friend asked.

“We’ve won a few times, but honestly, I don’t remember if I got any of them right.” He laughed.

“So, it’s up to you then, blondie.” You joked, and Harrison smiled with a grimace. “You two are lucky you’re attractive.”

Before either could respond, the quizmaster began to speak, announcing the general knowledge round. Some were easy questions like name the longest river in the U.K., complete the line from Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” (which you knew immediately), and how many hearts does an octopus have (that one you and Harrison got in a heated debate about whether it was two or eight, when Jess stepped in as the marine biologist to tell you it was three).

The next couple rounds went by smoothly, the four of you working together to make sure you got the right answers. By the time you were on the final round, the movies round, you felt fairly confident that your answers were like 90% right (you still weren’t sure if you trusted Tom and Harrison in saying that the DeLorean in Back to the Future had to hit 88 to time travel because you definitely thought it was 85 like the year the first movie came out).

“Which Star Wars character gets namechecked in Indiana Jones: Temple of Doom?” The quizmaster asked, making the four of you pause.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen that movie.” Harrison stated.

“Yoda?” Tom suggested, thinking it was a fairly iconic Star Wars character.

“It’s Obi-Wan.” You said as you wrote down the answer. “I just watched the movie like two days ago, and trust me, you’re not missing out if you haven’t seen it.”

“Two hours I’ll never get back.” Jess shook her head with a sigh.

“That bad?” Tom asked and you both nodded.

“The worst.” You shuddered just thinking about it.

Though that question stumped Tom and Harrison, it wasn’t until the last question of the round that you really didn’t know the answer.

“Last question. This sequel film is the 10th highest grossing superhero movie of all time.” The quizmaster read off the question, and you turned to the rest of your team, unsure of the right answer.

“I don’t know? Captain America?” You asked, wracking your brain for any good superhero sequel films you’d seen. You watched Harrison try to nudge Tom inconspicuously, who was blushing beside you. He mumbled something to you, but you couldn’t hear it at all. “What movie?”

“Uh, Spider-Man: Far From Home.” He spoke up louder, the blush on his cheeks darkening as he shot Harrison a glare.

“Oh, right, never saw that.” You replied, and Tom laughed nervously.

“You really never saw it?” He asked.

“Nope.” You shook your head, “I don’t even think I saw the first one, honestly. Not that big of a Spider-Man fan.” As you wrote down the answer Tom had given you, you missed him sending a look back to his friend, trying his best not to be slightly offended by your words.

“You should watch them. They’re really good movies.” Tom said with an encouraging smile when you looked back up at him, ignoring Harrison’s kick under the table. It wasn’t until then that he realized you had absolutely no clue who he was, and it was the best thing ever for him; you were treating him like just another random guy who invited you to join his pub quiz team.

The quizmaster announced the end of the quiz, and everyone went over their answers. Much to your familiar disappointment, your team ended up second again.

“Maybe, it’s just you.” Tom teased you as Harrison and Jess went to go get more drinks.

“Rude.” You playfully scoffed, though you were still a bit upset by the loss. “Maybe if you had known that Wisconsin was the dairy state then we would have won.”

“You didn’t even know that one!” He refuted. It was true- the American geography round just about wiped your team out. Tom shifted a bit closer to you, leaning on his arm, flexing it almost, “So you think you’ll be back at this pub for next week?”

“I think I could be convinced to return.” You replied slyly. Before Tom could ask for your number, you already had your phone unlocked, sliding it over to him. “Here.”

“You already knew.” He chuckled, handing you his phone in return. You both typed in your numbers and switched phones back.

“That one Spider-Man question. How did you know that?” You asked, thinking back to all the sigh’s the erupted throughout the pub when the answer was revealed- most had gotten it wrong, so how did Tom know so quickly that he was right?

“I just know.” Tom shrugged in an effort to play it off.

“You know off the top of your head the 10th highest grossing superhero movie of all time?” You eyed him suspiciously.

“They said it was a sequel, so it had to be either that or Incredibles 2.” He joked, but you weren’t too amused. He leaned in closer to you, creating an intimate distance between your two faces, “Can I tell you a secret?”

“What, are you Spider-Man or something?” You asked teasingly, but his smile never faltered.

“Yeah, I am.” Tom replied. You laughed before you realized the complete seriousness in his voice and his face.

“Seriously?” You managed through a fit of laughter.

“I really am! And you said you didn’t like my movie.” He teased.

“I said I never saw it.” You corrected him. “That has to be cheating for it to be your movie as the answer.”

“No, it definitely isn’t.” He shook his head with a laugh.

“How much did it gross? How much?” You asked, wiggling your eyebrows at him jokingly, “You check the box office daily, don’t you?”

“I do not!” He protested, chuckling, “And it made over a billion, thank you very much.”

“Did you drop your pants for that to happen or something?” You quipped, and his face heated up. You gasped, “You didn’t!”

“It was just for one scene and I had my underwear on!” Tom insisted, “You’d know that if you saw the film.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll watch it- both of them.” You laughed.

“How about I quiz you on them next week?” He joked, and you groaned.

“No, that means I’d have to pay attention.”

“Fine, I won’t quiz you on them on one condition.” Tom rested a hand on the back of your chair, leaning in closer to you. You raised your eyebrows at him, telling him wordlessly to continue, “Go on a date with me?”

You nodded, laughing as you spoke, “Yes, but I gotta say, I really thought you were going to make me watch your own movie with you.”

“Trust me, darling, we can do that, too.”

~~~

Tag List: @viagracex @theamazingtomholland @hellomoveonby @heyitsshrez

Tom Tag List: @quaksonhehe

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland fanfic #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland fluff

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maximoff-pan · 4 years

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Realizations | Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Summary: The four times you realize you’re in love with Steve Harrington, and the one time you actually tell him...

Character: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff (it starts off pretty fluffy and ends that way too....don’t worry y’all, I’m not that cruel), and there’s definitely some good ole angsty angst....because I’m an angsty bitch ;)

Word Count: 4.5 k (Holy moly...I think this is the longest thing I’ve written)

A/n: Okay, so, this wasn’t requested and I’m not sure anyone even wants this, but here we are. I kind of just felt like writing something for Steve again, so I went with the urge...Also, quick side note...but look at this gif. This is kind of (sort of) what I imagine Steve would look like if you told him you were in love with him, just utter shock, but definitely minus the fear...because bby boy doesn’t deserve to be afraid...And then he’d break out into a huge goofy smile, because he loves you back...

It was no secret to anyone that you had a rocky history with Steve Harrington. He was, amongst the teens of Hawkins, the proclaimed ‘King of Hawkins High.’ The King Shit of all King Shits....And you weren’t one to bow down to his monarchy. Truthfully it wasn’t that you hated him, you’re not entirely sure you ever could. Because beneath all the hype, Steve Harrington was just lonely, and slightly broken. Despite the numbers of people that claimed to be his friend, who claimed to dream to be like him, not one of them actually wanted to be with him...the real him anyway. And you could see that better than anyone.

So when all shit broke loose, (quite literally) and you’d been reunited with the Steve Harrington that you’d once been friends with, you accepted him. It was a shock to your system to find your brother asking Steve Harrington of all people for help with the Demogorgons, and even more of a shock when he said yes. But most of all, it surprised you to see how genuinely him he was being with you. No bullshit. No facade. He was just Steve, a guy you happened to go to school with. You will admit, in the beginning he’d been a bit sheepish, apologizing for the way he had treated you in high school, how he’d ditched you for the crown, but then something in him shifted. You saw him smile, watched him laugh. Your little brother was breaking Steve out of his shell, and you were there to help him. And it was entirely breathtaking.

You remember that day clearly, the day you went searching for Dart. Dustin up ahead, bucket of meat in one hand, a walkie talkie in the other, as he curses himself for not paying enough attention to the presumably extra terrestrial creature that had eaten your cat. You lag behind, dragging your feet across the dry dirt floor, littered with leaves, Steve Harrington by your side. It’s a day you’d never forget.

“I know I’ve got a lot of making up to do.” Steve’s voice breaks the silence.

You let out a puff of air in agreement. “Oh?” You implore sarcastically. “What makes you think that?”

“A lot of things.” He replies truthfully, a shame in his tone. “I’ve been-uh...I’ve been an asshole, of royal proportions.” He continues. “And I’m more than ready to give up my crown.”

A laugh bubbles from your throat. Of course he’d refer to his King like status. “Ready to become a mere peasant like the rest of us?”

He nods his head, humming lightly. “I think so.” His voice is quiet...soft. Just like you remember it being.

“You really think you can handle it?” You jest, playfully elbowing him in the arm.

“Oh of course I can.” He replies. “Haven’t you heard? Steve Harrington can handle anything.”

“Anything?” You’re eyes widen jokingly, as a smirk slowly falls upon your features. “I mean, sign me up...This Steve Harrington character sounds hot.”

A laugh breaks through his lips, overtly noticeable. He knows you’re joking, but he can’t help but wish you weren’t. “Anything.” He confirms with a wink.

That had been the first day you’d noticed your affinity for Steve Harrington. It was like a magnet had been placed between the two of you, and even if the attraction on his side, wasn’t entirely there, yours was....and it constantly pulled you towards him, with a smile on your face and a flutter in your stomach. It was at first, very subtle and very slow, but soon, your heart would yearn for him, more than it had yearned for anything or anyone else before.

Nearly everything about Steve seemed to click with you that day. He was just like he once had been...happy. It was something almost unfamiliar to you, something you hadn’t seen in quite some time, but it certainly made you feel things. And that’s something that hadn’t necessarily clicked: those feelings. You didn’t know what they were, or how you should react to them. Because maybe they were nothing, but then again, maybe they weren’t and you were getting yourself into more trouble than you could handle. Maybe they were real...and maybe, just maybe you felt something for Steve Harrington, more than a friend should.

Oh dear, what had you gotten yourself into?

ii.

“Listen up shit heads!” Steve’s stance is so chaotically mom-like it makes you laugh.

Your living room is covered in pillows, blankets, couch cushions, and popcorn. Six young teens loudly shout begrudgingly at Steve, who’s holding the tv remote just out of reach. They’re watching Star Wars: A New Hope, (Mike’s choice), or at least they were before Steve snatched the remote from Dustin’s hand.

“What the fuck Steve?” Dustin snaps at the older teen, and sends him a murderous gaze.

“Language Dusin.” Your voice interrupts Steve’s train of thought.

“As if you fucking care.” Dustin shoots. “You’re just enforcing that rule ‘cause Steve’s here.” He’s right, the little bastard...(and you hate to admit it) but you swear a decent amount yourself, and as long as Dustin isn’t using foul language in school or calling anyone harshly directed names, you don’t particularly enforce the no swearing rule that Steve does.

You shrug your shoulders, shifting your body towards Steve. “He’s got a point.”

“(Y/n).” Steve whines. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“And I am.”

“No you’re not.” He swings the remote jovially in the air, a mock pout breaking onto his face.

There’s that flutter again. You can feel it in your chest, your eyes trained on Steve’s face softly. It’s something that you just can’t seem to help, and it’s always sudden. Sometimes it’s not there. You can be around Steve for hours, and you’re cool with it...with him. But then out of nowhere this light headed feeling over takes you. Your heartbeat quickens, and you feel nothing but pure happiness and oddly comfort in his presence.

“I promise.” Your voice doesn’t waver. “I am always on your side.” It’s said as a joke, but you know better than anyone that it’s not.

There’s something behind your tone that Steve picks up on. Whether you intended upon it, it comes through loud and clear. I care about you. I am always going to be here for you. And it makes Steve smile. Whether the kids notice this too, he doesn’t know, nor does he care, but suddenly, and out of nowhere, he feels this pull to you like he’s never felt before.

What is this feeling? What does it mean?

iii.

Right off the bat you knew Steve Harrington would be trouble. Being friends with him again would inevitably hurt you...hurt him too. But you found yourself far too often, pushing that aside because of how much you cared for him. You worked well with each other, but you also knew that when the two of you were together, you were two fires, beautifully glowing together, until someone went too far and got burned.

You knew this, you knew it better than anything...and yet it wasn’t until the day Steve hurt Dustin, that he upset Dustin more than you’d ever seen him before, that you couldn’t unsee it. Dustin was your everything, and you’d be damned if Steve Harrington hurt your little brother.

That afternoon, he’d yelled...oh god had he yelled. Steve had just gotten back from seeing his parents, and he was completely on edge. They’d cursed him out, told him he had no future. Told him that he was a disappointment, a failure. And for the first time in his life, his father had hit him. It was quick, one harsh punch to the face and Steve was out of there faster than he’d ever raced out of his house. It was always a house...never a home, like yours was. You and Dustin had each other, you were each other’s homes, and Steve was alone. (You wouldn’t find out about what happened until much later, but by then, you’d already jumped fiercely to protect your little brother)....

It’s all quiet at the Henderson household until Dustin comes bounding out your front door, seeing Steve’s car parked out in front of your house, and starts asking if he wants to go to Mike’s and play some DnD with the Party. Steve tries to remain calm. He really does.

But Dustin keeps asking and asking, pulling Steve out of his car, and Steve just....snaps. “Dustin, do you ever think maybe I don’t want to hang out with you?”

Dustin’s eyes are wide open now, shock evident in his features. “Steve-” He recoils.

“No seriously Dustin.” Steve gestures, slightly aggressive, posture stiff and clearly frustrated. “Do you ever think that I’m just friends with you,” he moves his fingers, signalling air quotes around the word friends, “because your mother asked me to be? Because your sister wants me to be?”

He doesn’t mean it...more than anything he doesn’t mean it, but he can’t help the words from falling from his lips. It’s as if he needs to find someone to blame for his failures, and that person right now, in this moment, is Dustin Henderson: his best friend. He loves Dustin, it’s a love he’s never felt before, brotherly and wholesome...but Steve Harrington is nothing if not the King of destroying good, solid relationships.

You’re standing at your front door, listening to the exchange, and it’s certainly not what you expected from Steve. Even from a distance, you can see the tears threatening to leave your brother’s eyes as he fights to hold them back. Steve is now another person on the long list of people that have betrayed Dustin, that clearly don’t want him around. He’d already experienced having a father leave him...you don’t know if he could take losing a brother too.

“Dustin.” You storm down your front steps and out towards Steve and your brother. “Go inside.”

“But (Y/n)-” He tries.

“Just go inside.” You point at him gently, showing him that you’re not mad at him. The only person you’re angry with, is Steve. “I’ll be in in a few.”

Dustin nods his head solemnly, agreeing almost silently, before giving you a quiet, “okay.”

“You,” you point at Steve, venom in your tone. “In the car. Now.”

Steve obeys, watching as you open the car door and jump in the passenger seat. “Henderson.” He starts, using your last name. He only does that to tease you, or when he’s uncomfortable, and clearly in this circumstance, it’s the latter.

“Just drive.”

“Where?” He asks timidly.

“Somewhere quiet.” You reply.

And Steve knows exactly where to go. Just off the edge of Hawkins, and a couple minutes of a walk into the woods, there’s a wide clearing that he goes to when he needs to clear his mind. He knows that you’ve been to it many times....you were actually the one to bring Steve there once, and he can’t help the fear that creeps up in his chest.

The car ride is only around fifteen minutes, but it’s the longest fifteen minutes of Steve’s life. You haven’t said anything, and neither has he, not wanting to cause a scene out in public. But when you get there, car parked, having found your way into the clearing, Steve feels the adrenaline rush of fear shoot through him, and he’s sure he can feel the anger radiating off you.

“What the fuck Harrington?” Your eyes shoot daggers at him.

He stutters his way through a response. “I-I do-don’t know.”

This is how it starts: you’re angry and he’s terrified. And you have every right to be angry, but soon enough, Steve’s fear will morph into his own anger, and he doesn’t want that to happen. So he tries to remain afraid...but how long that will last, he doesn’t know.

“What’s gotten into you Steve?” You ask, seething at him.

“I’m sorry.” He replies, feeling his own anger starting to rise.

You wave off his apology with a scoff. “I’m not the one you should be apologizing to. I mean, how could you do that to Dustin?” You ask, genuine curiosity in your voice. “Do you know how much he loves you? And after everything he’s been through...I-I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get him to trust another man like he trusts you.”

“Well it shouldn’t be my responsibility to take care of him.” You’ve struck a nerve he didn’t know you could hit, and now Steve’s tone is ice cold, removed from himself.

“Take care of him?” You shout incredulously. “Holy shit, who do you think you are?”

Steve takes a step toward you menacingly. “Well I’m just his goddamn babysitter aren’t I? Because your mother’s too busy to do it herself.”

That’s a low blow and he knows it, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s already said it. You can hear his breathing, ragged and rushed, surely it matches your own. And you’re fuming. All you can see is red.

“You haven’t changed at all Harrington.” You snarl darkly. “You’re the same asshat, same arrogant, pompous King of Hawkins that you once were, that you always were. And I hated you then Steve! I hated you!”

You’re saying the one thing that he knows can break him: You haven’t changed. You’re still the same. Your parents are right about you. You’ll never amount to anything. And it feels like you’re giving up on him, just like his parent did. Just like everyone else does.

“And if you haven’t changed now, then I guess I still hate you.”

That’s all it takes for Steve to choke out a sob. He’s fallen to his knees, breathing erratic and panicked.

Fighting with Steve isn’t rational. You know you should’ve figured out why he lashed out at Dustin before you lashed out at him. It’s a vicious cycle of rage that could’ve been avoided, despite your anger being warranted. You’re a firm believer that there’s always a reason for things, and right now you just wished you had have waited to find out that reason, because maybe you wouldn’t be in this position right now.

You’re in a state of shock and denial at the man before you. He looks broken, like a little boy beaten down by his parents (unknowingly, this is exactly how Steve feels...exactly why he’s acting the way he’s acting). Your breathing softens and your gaze lowers to him. Why did you say those things? You didn’t think they could hurt him that much. If you’re being honest, you’ve never seen Steve this distraught, and it’s something you’re sure you never want to see again.

“My parents.” He manages to choke out, as you kneel beside him. “I saw my parents.” He says louder. And you’re now just noticing the deep purple bruise forming around his left eye. How could you not have noticed? Did your anger truly blind you to his pain?

“Steve.” You place you’re hand gently on his shoulder. “Did your father do this to you?”

He nods, wiping away the tears before saying, “He’s never done it before. But he was just so angry. I’ve never seen him like that.”

You notice how he avoids directly confirming that his father had hit him. He doesn’t want to believe it happened, and you can understand why...because admitting it directly, makes it more real. “Oh.” You mumble in response, not quite sure what to say.

“He said I’d never be worth anything. That’d I’d always be the son they never wanted.” He pulls his face into his hands, sucking a long breath in. “And I know it shouldn’t bother me, but it hurts. It just hurts so much.”

“Oh Steve.” You pull him into your touch, embracing him softly. “I’m so sorry.”

“And I didn’t mean to hurt Dustin.” He says, a wave of hurt rushing through him. “That’s the last thing I’d ever want to do. I just, I snapped.”

You bring your fingers to his chin, tilted his head towards your face. “I know.” You whisper. “I’ll tell him that. And you know he’ll always forgive you. He loves you too much to let you go.”

Your heart races as you wrap him in your embrace, trying gently to calm him down, to reassure him of his place in your family. It’s in that moment that you realize just how much you love him. Like the day you’d searched for Dart, it’s sudden and gradual, but now that you’ve truly realized it, things are surely about to change. And hopefully for the better.

Holy fuck...you’re in love with Steve Harrington.

iv.

It’s been nearly a year since your spat with Steve (and since you realized you were in love with Steve, but let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves...) and a lot of shit has happened since. One major addition to your make shift family of misfits and losers (as you like to call it) is Robin Buckley. Oh how Robin had changed your life...

She’d come into it at just the right time. Steve had gotten a summer job at Scoop’s Ahoy, while you had gotten a job at the Gap. It was the only one available, and you weren’t entirely picky as long as the job paid. The bright side of said job though, was using your breaks to come and visit Steve (and vice versa), get some free ice cream (Steve always insisted that you never pay), and most importantly, you got to meet Robin Buckley.

It’s something that must be said: Robin Buckley is no fool. She knows that, you know that, everybody in the entirety of Hawkins knows that. It’s clear as day how in love with each other you and Steve are...and when she continuously tells you that, you never believe her. (She tells Steve the same thing, multiple times a day, and he never seems to believe her either). Since your fight, and specifically since you made up, you and Steve have never been closer. (All the more reason for Robin to pester you about being in love with each other...). You guess you can also blame the whole battle of star court mall shit (included with crazy secret Russians and everything)....it had made you a lot closer. Shared trauma will do that to you...

But now, you, Steve, and Robin work at the video store, and your love for Steve certainly hasn’t gone away. You’re getting pretty terrible at hiding it, or at least you think so, (and Robin does too).

“If you keep staring at him like that, your jaw’s going to fall off.” She grins cheekily at you. You’re watching Steve as he intently listens to Dustin and Mike animatedly talk about some movie they’re desperate to watch.

“Shut up Robin.” You shoot back at her, folding your arms across your chest. “I’m not staring.”

She dismisses you with the wave of her hand. “You know, if you really like him, there’s this thing you could try.” She pauses as you gesture for her to continue. “It’s called asking him out dingus.”

Usually Robin reserves the ‘dingus title’ for Steve only, but today the honour is yours. “I know.” You sigh. “But I can’t do that. It’ll only make things weird.”

“Even if you really want to kiss him?” She asks, placing the emphasis on really.

“Even if I really want to kiss him.” You reply, letting out a wanting sigh.

“Even if he really wants to kiss you?” She pushes with a smirk on her face.

��Even if he.....What?” You squeak in surprise, having not expected her question.

At your exclamation, Steve quickly glances over to you and Robin. He tilts his head with a confused expression on his face, before giving you both a cheery smile. When Robin turns her head after waving him off, and flipping him the bird, he sends you a devilish wink. It sends shivers down your spine, and you try desperately to send him back a semi-composed smile of your own. God, you really do want to kiss him...

It’s officially a fact. You’re in love with Steve Harrington, and there’s no getting out of it.

You and Steve are sitting on the front steps to your house, waiting for Dustin to bike his way home from Mike’s. The sun is setting, it’s quiet and peaceful. Something you haven’t experienced much since Dustin brought Steve back into your life. Despite the lack of normalcy in the past couple of years, you wouldn’t trade it for anything. You’ve gained a best friend, someone you can trust more than anyone in the world (besides your brother of course)....And you’ve fallen in love. Not that Steve knows. But you’re grateful to him all the same, for showing you what falling in love can feel like.

“You ever think about us?” Steve asks suddenly. It’s a question you’re not sure how to interpret.

“Us?” You lift your head from his shoulder curiously.

“Yeah, like-“ He sits up, facing you now, hands gesturing widely. “Like us, us. Together us.” He says. “Like what would’ve happened if you hadn’t forgiven me...if Dustin hadn’t forgiven me. Would we still be close?”

“Oh.” You trail off. That’s what he meant. You, Dustin, and Steve ‘us’. For a second you thought he actually might love you too. “I don’t know.” You admit.

He ponders your response for a second. “I’m glad you forgave me. That you both forgave me.”

You’re glad you forgave him too. After what his parents had said to him, you couldn’t imagine letting him go back to them that night. All alone, and terrified. You’re even more glad that Dustin had taken to forgiving him so quickly. All Steve had to do was apologize, briefly explaining that he wasn’t in the right mind set, and Dustin ran straight to Steve, engulfing him in the largest hug. Dustin had told Steve that he loved him that day. Steve had said it back. Something you’re not sure you’ll ever have the courage to do. But it warmed your heart to see Dustin open his heart to someone else.

“You’re a good person.” You state.

You say it with so much meaning, but it’s a sentence Steve doubts about himself everyday. He loves Dustin, he loves you, (he’s in love with you really), and he’d do anything for the two of, but he doesn’t feel like a good person. More or less, he’s often afraid that he’ll turn back into who he used to be, the Steve that had all the girls, and all the friends in the world, but still felt lonelier than he’d ever felt.

“I don’t-” He starts. “What if I’m not? I mean, what if what you said a year ago is true?” You can hear the insecurity, the anxiety in his tone. “What if I haven’t changed?”

“You have.” You reassure him. “You,” You point to him seriously, trying desperately to convince him, as you bring your hand gently to his cheek, “You are a good person Steve Harrington.”

Steve’s eyes flicker down to your lips. He wants to kiss you....more than anything in the world he wants to kiss you, but is that what you want too?

“I meant it when I asked if you ever thought about us.” He says as you remove your hand from his cheek. “I think about it all the time.” He reveals. “What it would be like if you loved me like I love you. If you loved me the way I love you.”

Your eyebrows raise at his words. “I have.” You state, before realizing the tense you’re speaking in. Have means past tense...you’ve certainly been thinking about it in the present. “I do.” You clarify.

“And.” Steve implores hopefully.

“I guess I was just scared to say anything because if you didn’t feel the same way...” you trail off. “I just couldn’t risk it.”

Steve’s voice is soft, like silk and honey. “But I do feel the same way.”

Your eyes search his for any sign of doubt. When you don’t find any, a beaming smile breaks out onto your face. “You do?”

“I always have.” He confirms, placing a hand on your cheek. “Can I kiss you?”

It’s a question you never thought Steve would ask you, one you dreamed about so often, wishing that maybe he could feel the same way. That familiar flutter that you’d become so accustomed to when you’re around Steve is back. And this time, it’s much stronger. Because it’s filled with hope, knowing that this is actually going to happen. He does feel the same way.

You nod your head in response before Steve leans down to meet your lips. His kiss is sweet and gentle, and while you’re not sure if it’s perfect to him, it is perfect to you. You’re putting all your love into this kiss, hoping that he understands just what you’re trying to say through it.

You take a quick breath before his lips are back on yours, this time more comfortably. Steve is confident about his actions, a hand resting on your waist, and the other still gracing your cheek. He can feel you smiling into the kiss as you begin to pull away once again, a joyful laugh bubbling in your throat.

“I love you (Y/n) Henderson.” He breathes. And you know it’s true. You can see it in the way he looks at you, so much so that you’re sure he can see just how much you love him through your gaze as well. “I’m in love with you.”

“I love you.” You respond, heart full of freedom and joy. “And just so you know...” you trail off, remembering the words you said to him nearly two years ago, “this Steve Harrington character, he really is hot....and a pretty damn good kisser.”

You let out a sigh, resting your head back on Steve’s shoulder. You’re both very content, breathing steady and calm. And it’s honestly quite fitting, the way your relationship is to begin, sitting on the front steps to your house, waiting for Dustin. Dustin had reintroduced you to each other, after all those years, bringing your friendship back to a blossom. He’s the reason you allowed yourself to fall for Steve in the first place, so it’s entirely convenient that you’ll spend your first moments as a couple in love, waiting to reintroduce your relationship to Dustin. He had made it possible after all....

And if there’s one thing you and Steve both know for sure, it’s that Dustin will approve. He’s been waiting for this for two years, watching you dance around each other and fall in love, (you also know that Robin will be overjoyed too...). And the most important thing of all: Steve had found a true home, and that home was with you and Dustin.

Steve Harrington will always be a Henderson (if not by birth or blood, then certainly by love), no matter what. And you’d always love him for it.

////////////////////

General Taglist:

@voidnarnia @galaxy-mindsxx @lookalivesunshine-x @lanatheawesome @mileven-reddie @my-remical-chomance

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader

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readyplayerhobi · 4 years

Text

Flower | 10

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, angst, smut

; Word Count: 6.3k

; Warnings: Body insecurity, sexual anxieties, oral sex (receiving), fingering

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: Hello...you finally get some smut :D I hope you all enjoy, it’s the longest chapter yet. PLEASE leave me a comment or give me an ask that let’s me know what you think! I’m loving writing this and I’m loving all your comments and feedback, it means so much <3

; Flower Masterpost

Hoseok sighed deeply as you wiggled on the couch once more, Kasumi curled up in his lap and purring away happily while he stroked at her fur. You watched him quietly, trying to be as innocuous as you could but you were evidently failing as he glanced over to you once more with that ‘what-is-wrong-with-you’ face he’d been giving you.

The show he was watching on Netflix was boring and your mind had begun to wander as a result. Unfortunately for you though, you’d become distracted by your boyfriend. You say unfortunately because you have no idea what to do right now and the very idea of saying anything to him that could give even a hint as to what your mind is thinking right now is beyond unthinkable.

It’s not your fault though that he’s so damn attractive though! And it’s even less your fault that he’d decided for some god forsaken reason to eat all the Lindt chocolate you’d bought earlier in the week. At first you’d just been annoyed that he’d eaten it, it was expensive chocolate after all. But then it had been an agony you’d never considered before as you’d watched intently as he’d bitten a hole into the top of each small chocolate ball, the centre gooey from leaving it out in the room for a while.

And then...you’d had to watch in dual horror and lust as he licked the inside of each shell out. Part of your mind had been horrified because, who ate Lindt chocolate like that but mainly because it incited thoughts you’d managed to steadfastly push away whenever he was in your vicinity. But that was nigh impossible when you were greeted to the astonishingly arousing vision of his supple, wet tongue dipping into the hole he’d made and removing all the smooth chocolate filling with a movement that was far too sensual for someone who wasn’t even paying attention.

Combined with glimpses of his tongue piercing, the silver ball shining in the light of your living room, you’d found yourself in a unique form of torture. Because you wanted that mouth on you, badly. You wanted that tongue to touch you with all the attention he was lavishing upon those small chocolate delights, legs squeezing together tightly as you imagined his head between them, mouth on you in the same way.

It was horrible. And delightful at the same time. You’d never particularly considered yourself an overly horny or sexual person. Your experiences in college had mostly been because whoever you’d been with wanted them, or the occasional one night stand just to experience it. They’d never been very good and you’d convinced yourself over the years that good sex was a myth made up by people and the porn industry.

Your hand had been good enough for years, the only way you’d ever managed to make yourself orgasm. Most sex had simply resulted in you just lying there, waiting for the other to finish and pretending in what you thought an orgasm was supposed to look like with someone else. It felt nice, sure, but you’d never felt fireworks. In the same way, you’d never really been someone to feel huge amounts of sexual attraction to anyone.

No one had ever made you desperate for them to get into your bed before, the very idea strange and foreign to you. Until Jung Hoseok. It felt very odd for you to think that, and part of you wondered if it was only because he was such a nice person as well. But then again, you’d never found someone so genuinely attractive before, and for the first time you’d found yourself wanting someone else sexually first.

The lack of experience you have in being forward in this department meant that you didn’t say anything to him though. Not being interested in sex normally, and being disappointed in what you’d gotten when you did have it, meant that you’d had no interest in trying to have sex with most people. So you had zero idea in how to initiate it when in a relationship because they’d always been the ones to make the move.

Where you supposed to touch him in some way? Would he understand what you wanted? Perhaps kiss him a certain way? But then he might not realise; your kisses so far had been sensual and delightful, long and deep but they’d never really grown sexual. He’d been very careful not to insinuate anything sexual with you, and you appreciated that he wasn’t pushing you into anything until you were comfortable with it.

Hoseok was evidently very aware of how you’d probably react to it given how carefully he danced around you. But despite that, you knew that he was attracted to you. Besides from him openly admitting it, there had been one or two times that you’d...felt it. Accidentally of course, and you’d rather die than bring it up.

And he’d ignored that it had ever happened too, much to your relief. Despite the part of you that had wanted him to push a little.

Which is why you’re steadfastly focusing on your TV, trying to ignore the outrageously hot man sat next to you. You were half laying on the couch, propped up by the innumerable amount of cushions and plushies that were stacked against the arm while your feet just touched Hoseok’s thigh.

You’d been together for three months now...was that an acceptable time to wait? College had been entirely different, back then everything felt rushed and stressed. A lot of the time you’d had sex purely because you thought it was what you were meant to do. Not that you regretted any moments, but there’d never been the desperate urge for it. It was almost like sex was a badge of honour back then, but now...now you were older and you didn’t know how this worked.

Swallowing hard, you shift once more and Hoseok let’s out a puff of air, the noise surprisingly loud and causing you to jerk in surprise. Glancing over at him, your eyes widen when you realise he’s staring at you directly with a raised brow.

“What’s wrong? And don’t say nothing, because there is. You haven’t stopped moving for the last half an hour and it’s driving me crazy,” Hoseok stated bluntly, hand pausing on Kasumi as he stared at you. “Are you okay? Has something happened?”

He sounds so caring that you can’t help but curl up even tighter into a ball, body heating in embarrassment at the fact he thought there might be something wrong with you. Particularly when in reality, you were just being horny.

“N-no. I’m okay…” You mumble out, pushing your face into the fluffy material of your sweater. It was overly large and cream, incredibly soft and gentle to the touch with a cartoon cat’s face on the front. Black leggings with tiny Star Wars logos adorn your legs with some fuzzy socks too. As usual, it’s a complete contrast to Hoseok’s Rammstein shirt and plain black sweatpants.

His eyes narrow, chocolate irises disappearing almost before he gently pushes Kasumi off his lap. And then he’s oh so slowly moving over to you, gaze intent before he’s pretty much laying against you, sliding into the space behind you on the couch. You try to keep eye contact with him, enjoying the warmth of his body while also trying to ignore the way it lights you up inside.

“I don’t believe you.” He mutters, lips so close to your own and you look away quickly, not wanting to see what’s in his eyes. Not when he’s obviously in this playful mood. And when Hoseok gets playful, he likes to play around with innuendos and more. Most of the time it doesn’t bother you anymore, just causing you to roll your eyes.

But not today. Not when the place between your legs aches for him. Not when he’s pressed against your body so tightly, letting you feel how solid he is behind you.

His playfulness stops though as he wraps an arm around you, pulling until you’re laying on your back and looking at him. He looks serious now, his eyes darting all over your face to try and see if he can figure out what’s wrong before he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek.

“Seriously...are you okay? You’ve been acting strange all evening.” Well he wasn’t wrong, but you felt like dying rather than telling him why you’d been acting strange. It wasn’t your fault that he’d turned up to yours after work all sweaty from his gym workout. He’d showered, but you could still remember the way his dark hair clung to his forehead while his skin gleamed golden and his tattoos had an astonishing vibrancy in the lights. And then he had to just...look even more divine out of the shower, even more wet only smelling far better.

The cherry on top of course was the way he’d eaten those chocolates. So no, you were not okay. You were horny and frustrated.

Hoseok stiffens beside you, arm tensing and you look at him in confusion to see his eyes wide with shock. And sudden panic hits you, causing you to bolt upright and pretty much fall off the couch as you shuffle away from him.

“Oh my god, I said that out loud, didn't I?” The words are quick, blurted out until they’re almost running together and you can feel the anxiety in you building up. You’d thought they were in your head, just mindless thoughts. But your traitorous mouth had spoken and now he knew. He knew that you desired him sexually right now.

Groaning, you let your head fall into your hands as you slip from the couch onto the floor. Hoseok is immediately next to you, kneeling on the soft cream rug that sits beneath your coffee table as he gently pries your hands away.

“Okay, you know what we’re not going to do right now? We’re not going to be ashamed of being turned on by your own boyfriend. Please don’t be embarrassed, I am...incredibly happy and satisfied that you’re horny right now because of me. Now...you have two choices here,” He lifts your head to look at him, his face earnest as he smiles at you and you’re beyond relieved to see there’s only acceptance in them. “Either we forget you said it and carry on watching Netflix, only something you’re a little more interested in, or...we fix your little problem.”

Flames of desire and confusion swirl through your body, igniting inside until you practically feel like you’re sweating from the dual mix. You’re not sure whether to say yes to him or to turn him down, hoping he’ll forget and you can ignore this mortification.

But then...you pause and take a deep breath, letting yourself think rationally. Trying to push past the anxiety and nerves, the fear and unease that assault you. He’s your boyfriend. He’s been with you for three months, it’s only natural to start having sexual relations with each other if you both want it. And you dearly want him, even if you’re afraid of the actual physical interactions.

You just...don’t have the experience to match up to him. And that’s what terrifies you the most. Part of you wants to just ignore that and push it away, tell him to find a new show to watch and just spend the night like every other time you’ve spent time together. But an overriding part of you doesn’t. It wants to engage with him sexually, it wants to experience pleasure from him.

And that part wins, surprising you with the words that come out of you.

“I...the second. I’m sorry,” You whine quietly, brow creasing as you pull your hands from his and press them to your eyes hard. “I just...I’ve not...done anything...sexual in a long time. And even when I did...I didn’t...it wasn’t…”

“It wasn’t that good because you were too worried?” Hoseok asks gently, taking your hands once more and squeezing them once before his fingers stroke at your skin. “I’m not expecting you to want to do everything right now, I don’t expect anything from you actually. I want to pleasure you so...we go at your pace and do what you’re comfortable with. We’ve been together for three months now, I’m not going to pressure you into anything but I like to think I understand you a lot better. I know you’re shy, and that you’re anxious about it. But I’ll do everything I can to make it comfortable and good for you, I swear. And if you’re not, then we stop, okay?”

Oh god, oh god, oh god. You didn’t know what to think or say, your mind shorting out rapidly as you try to accept the fact that he was going to do something with you. You were going to do something with him. Sex things. That sounded lame but your mind genuinely wasn’t working properly.

“What...what are you wanting to do?” The sentence comes out much stronger than you anticipated and you feel a little pride in it. Hoseok eyes you for a second before grinning, a sudden look in his eyes that feels a little foreign, yet sends sparks through you.

He licks his lips momentarily. “I...I think I’d like to go down on you. If you’d let me.”

A statue would be more pliable than you in that moment, your body frozen solid at his words as your brain short circuits at the idea. The very idea you’d been fantasising about earlier. Oh god, he really did want to go down on you. He was going to eat you out. Holy fuck.

Swallowing thickly, you lick your suddenly dry lips and cough slightly to clear your throat. “Oh.”

It’s a pathetic sound, but it’s the only thing you can get out. It makes Hoseok chuckle though, and he slowly leans forward, pressing his lips to yours and encouraging you to simply kiss him. He doesn’t say anything, just kisses you, enticing you to open your lips to him and let him tangle his tongue with yours.

The now familiar feel of his tongue ring sends new sparks through your, your thighs squeezing together and the kneeling position you’re in causes the sensation to provide even more pleasure against your clit than you’d expected. And so you jerk ever so slightly into him while the softest moan escapes into his mouth.

Hoseok pulls away suddenly, his irises blown out in pure desire while he licks the taste of you from his lips. It makes you want to vibrate with the energy inside you at the look he gives you, like he just wants to eat you up. And you know he wants to.

“Get back on the couch.” He whispers, tapping the seat cushion. You remain motionless for a second before nodding jerkily, crawling back onto the couch and gripping at the throw silently. Hoseok moves to between your legs, pushing them apart slightly before the corner of his mouth kicks up in an outrageously sexy smirk.

“Oh shit. You look...really fucking good from this angle.” His hands grip your ankles for a moment before he slides his palms along your calves, dipping them beneath your knees to press at the sensitive skin back there. You shiver without even meaning to, the sensation dulled by your leggings and yet you can’t take your eyes off him.

Black hair is still ever so slightly wet, the strands glistening still while his skin practically glows in the low lighting of your living room. He looks like pure sin, the bright and colourful tattoos decorated along his arms contrasting vividly from your dark leggings and you can’t help but let out a breathy moan as he lets his fingers dance along the tops of your thighs.

They reach your hips and he splays his hands across each thigh, biting his lower lip between white teeth as the heat of his palms runs back down to your knees. And then he dips those hands between, caressing your inner thighs slowly while his eyes remain firmly locked on yours. It’s quite possibly the most sensual thing anyone has ever done to you, and you’re positive that you’re embarrassingly wet for him already.

God help you if this was how turned on he could get you just touching you over clothes.

“Can I take your clothes off?” He whispers, his voice husky and low, the syllables almost scratchy and you feel them through every inch of your body. But a sudden spike of fear pierced through the veil of desire he’s spun on you, the thought of him seeing you naked paralysing you.

Hoseok feels the way you stiffen and a tiny frown appeared between his brows, lip ring being chewed for a moment before he nods.

“Ignore that. Keep your top and stuff on, it’ll make you feel less vulnerable. Is that okay with you?” You nod shyly, looking away from his eyes while your hands fist the throw in anger at yourself. He clocks the movement and leans forward, resting his cheek on your knee. “Hey, don’t get angry at yourself okay? I’m not offended, it’s fine. I do kind of need to remove your leggings and underwear though...are you okay with that?”

Watching him intently, you suddenly find yourself squeezing your thighs together as you struggle to breath, anxiety clawing at your throat. Hoseok watches you carefully, hand gently caressing your calf in a reassuring movement.

“What if I...I mean...what if you...what if it’s not right?” He frowns at that, head tilting and brows creasing together in confusion at your words. “Like...down there. What if...I mean...I...smell or taste...bad. Or look funny? Or smell bad? I...I haven’t prepared.”

“Baby...has anyone ever gone down on you before?” His question is surprisingly blunt and you want to wallow in embarrassment, hands coming up to cover your face desperately as you quell the urge to wail.

But his hands gently pull yours away, his body leaning close to you as he presses a kiss to your nose. “Hey...hey don’t be ashamed or anything. It’s okay. Some girls don’t like it, that’s fine. If you don’t like it, then we stop. I’d really like to though. And I’m not gonna judge you on what you look like or anything. At the risk of stereotyping my gender, I’m a guy. A guy who is very attracted to you. I’m gonna love whatever you have.”

“But what if-”

“Nope. Please don’t stress yourself over...whatever you taste or smell like. Please, seriously. I’m not thinking negatively about that. In fact, I could show you something that shows I’m very excited over this but I won’t because this is about you. So...can I take your clothes off? Please?” He doesn’t move though, his hands resting on you as he waits for your response.

It takes you a minute to run through your thoughts carefully, wondering whether to tell him no or not. But the overriding urge you’d had earlier to let him give you the pleasure you hope he can takes over once more and you nod slowly, the movement jerky with how nervy you are.

Hoseok doesn’t respond immediately, instead just watching you carefully before kissing you slowly, His hands stroke at your waist, and he distracts you the whole time he carefully peels your leggings and underwear off, your hips shifting up to let him pull them down before they disappear from your body entirely.

Even though the cool air that hits your centre let’s you know that you’re half naked in front of him, incredibly vulnerable right now, you find yourself relaxing a little as he focuses more on kissing you. Just...kissing. Nothing else.

For the next few minutes, he doesn’t even pull away from you. He has you half naked in front of him, bottom half exposed to the world and yet Hoseok kisses you slowly, as if he has all the time in the world. It’s so completely different from all the other sexual experiences you’d had previously; half-drunk fumbles in the dark, frantic kissing and sex that felt like it had been over before it had even started.

College boys who wanted the pleasure but hadn’t particularly gained the skills they needed. The guys you’d slept with had been even worse than most, not interested in anything besides the quick orgasm they can get before heading off to their next night out or gaming session.

The very idea of them just kissing you for minutes when you were there, wet and ready for them, instead of plunging in would have been anathema to them.

Which made it...nice that he was more focused on calming you down, relaxing you. Like he knew that by making you focus on his mouth and his hands, you’d slowly begin to almost forget that you were half naked for him. And it was working, because you found yourself pulling him closer, wrapping your arms around his neck and just enjoying the fact that he so obviously enjoyed being with you.

It’s also why you jerk in surprise when his fingers stroke along your thighs once more, carefully dancing their way forward with quick and gentle movements on your sensitive skin before reaching the exposed part of you. You go to jerk back from him but he uses his other hand to keep your head in place, dipping his tongue back into your mouth at the same moment that his fingers slip between your folds.

There’s no doubt that you’re wet for him, probably extraordinarily wet given how turned on you’ve been for the last hour or so. And you know that he likes it a lot when he groans into your mouth, the sound deep and low. It makes you shiver, hips rolling ever so slightly in a move that shifts the placement of his fingers, causing them to brush against your clit.

Almost immediately you gasp, head tugging back from his despite his hand and you watch him through wide eyes as he presses against you again, circling his fingers slowly while increasing the pressure on the sensitive bundle of nerves. The quietest whine leaves you as he does so, the eye contact he maintains with you both overwhelming and attractive.

His pupils are blown out, desire etched into every inch of him and your hands tighten behind his neck as he sucks his kiss swollen lower lip between his teeth, lip ring pulling at his skin as it slowly slips back out. You weren’t sure you’d ever seen a sexier sight.

But then you glance down, to the space between your bodies. He leans back slightly, letting you get a better look and you swallow hard at the sight of his hand between your legs, the colourful tattoos shifting as the tendons and muscles in his arm flex slightly as he rubs at you.

“Hoseok…” You whisper softly, unsure what you’re trying to say. He just grinned in response, one side of his mouth kicking up higher than the other before he settles back down, eyes shifting from yours to the wetness directly in his line of vision. The way he licks at his lips at the sight, pink tongue running along the soft flesh, makes your thighs tighten.

He catches the movement obviously and smiles again before removing his hand from you, his fingers glistening in the light and he observes them for a moment before nodding. Looking back up at you again, he smirks with the tip of his tongue caught between his teeth before he slips those long, elegant fingers between those swollen lips.

A deep moan leave him, eyes fluttering shut as he licks them clean and your breath comes a little faster as you watch him enjoy the taste of you.

“Oh god...you do not have to worry,” Hoseok mutters, eyes opening and refocusing on your pussy. “I am going to enjoy the fuck out of this.”

And then his hands reach beneath your ass, squeezing slightly as he lets out a rushed breath and tugs you forward slightly. You yelp at the movement, back a little uncomfortable by the position and he pauses, glancing up and grabbing one of the many plushies before pushing it behind your back, immediately making the position a little more palatable and comfortable for you.

“Okay?” He asks and you nod, body hot with dual need and anxiety. You’re not sure whether or not the bubbling in your stomach is because you’re so horny, so close to getting something, or because you’re so afraid that you’ll mess it up. That you won’t taste as good as he thinks or you’ll smell funny or your clit is too big and everything looks odd down there.

And above everything...you’re not even sure if you’re going to like this. You enjoyed orgasming as much as the next person you were sure, but you were only ever able to get yourself there. It took time too, and despite how arousing the thought of him was, you weren’t sure how it was going to feel good.

Hoseok starts to lean forward, his shoulders pushing apart from your legs even further and you wriggle, unsure what to feel as he does so. So you close your eyes, hands gripping the throw tightly in nerves as your body locks up and waits for him. You’d laugh at yourself for acting this way if you weren’t so genuinely unsure of how to act.

Thankfully, he doesn’t laugh at you either. He doesn’t even make mention of it, but you feel the way that he reassures you with slow strokes of his hands along the backs of your thighs. Like he’s trying to tell you it’s going to be okay without actually speaking and you feel beyond thankful for it.

And then you feel it, Hoseok’s tongue slowly licking from your entrance up. It feels hot and wet, ticklish and you’re suddenly unsure that you like this. It feels odd, foreign and strange. Slimey enters your head and you wince slightly, thinking that’s probably not the best thought to run through your head during this moment. Swallowing, you decide to tell him to stop, not liking the feeling of it an-

“Oooohhh.” You hum out, brow tightening as your hands fist the throw even tighter from the electric shock of pleasure he sends through you. What he did, you’re not quite sure, but all you know is that he moved his tongue on your clit a certain way and it was like a jolt being sent through you.

He doesn’t repeat the motion though, instead kissing your mound just above and carefully pressing the lightest butterfly soft kisses down the side, nose running along your inner thigh slowly. Despite how unsure you’d felt at actually feeling his tongue, you’re suddenly desperate for more now that he’s taken it away.

The way he slowly traces shapes and letters into the sensitive, soft skin of your thigh has your breath stuttering out of you. Hoseok pauses for a moment, looking up at you with a quizzical look and taking in how you’re feeling.

“Is everything okay? ” He asks and you wonder if every guy is talkative during oral. The porn you watched seemed to just have the guy getting to work, no conversation or questions and you pause in confusion, brow creasing. Kissing your thigh, he gives you a small smile. “You know your body best, I’m just the living sex toy you can use right now.”

He wriggles his eyebrows at that and you can’t help but laugh, surprised at the easy humour that flows between you both despite the fact you’re naked from the waist down and he’s very close to your exposed area. Swallowing, you nod slowly.

“Yeah, I...err...the little thing you did...with your tongue. I mean...I don’t know if I like it but then you did the...the thing and it felt really good.” You feel incredibly warm as you tell him that, wanting to squirm away from him in embarrassment but he just smiles brightly at you, kissing your leg again and running his hands along you reassuringly.

“Good. I’ll make sure to do more of that. You’re probably just not used to it yet. If you’re uncomfortable, just tell me, okay?” Nodding, you bite your lip as he grins broadly once more, lips rosy pink and your legs tighten beneath his palms. He can feel it, obviously, and he laughs softly before pushing at your thighs, spreading your legs a little wider for him.

It makes you feel even more exposed and you pause, unsure of it before he leans forward again, flattening his tongue against your entrance. And then he almost seems to...scoop the slippery muscle inside you, wet heat dipping into your slick pussy and you almost jump off the couch.

A noise leaves you, a strangled moan perhaps, and you suddenly realise that your hand is now gripping Hoseok’s hair tightly, pulling it off his forehead. The black strands are soft and he lets out a gentle groan that vibrates against you, increasing the sensations of pleasure you feel.

“Oh god, that...do that again.” You whisper, hands shaking. Your voice is soft and quiet, almost as if you’re not sure you want him to hear or if he should be hearing it. But he does, and he follows through with what you’d asked happily, dipping his tongue back into you.

Whining quietly, you wriggle and pant as he continues to do it to you, hands massaging your thighs at the same time and making you feel far too much at once. The tongue piercing that you’d fantasised about proves to be better than you could have possibly imagined, adding a little extra pressure to your sensitive inner walls. Hoseok stops then, pulling away to press kisses on your folds carefully. One hand leaves your thigh to spread you open, pushing and exposing you even more.

Eyes widening, you look down at him and let out a whimper at how ridiculously sexy he looks between your legs. He’s not even looking up at you, instead he’s focused firmly on between your legs. His lips are slightly more swollen than before and you heat up as you note the slickness around them, spreading to his cheeks ever so slightly.

And then he licks his lips, that same tongue that had spent the last few minutes bringing you pleasure you’d never even known was possible wetting his lips. The sound that leaves you is embarrassing, but he just glances up with an amused grin.

“Still enjoying it?” He asks, one brow raising and you make yourself let go of his hair finally. It remains stuck up in a funny position and you mumble something unintelligible. You just settle for nodding quietly and he must see something in your face that pleases him. “Good.”

Moving back, he licks from your entrance to your clit in one, agonisingly slow movement. His tongue is flat, pressed against you hard and you gasp out. The only way you can describe it is that Hoseok is licking you that same way he’d eat ice cream, in long and slow licks that take in everything at once. It feels amazing and you whimper loudly, the very idea of him eating you out with as much enjoyment as he’d get from a sweet treat more arousing than you’d thought possible.

He continues doing that for a minute or so before he switches it up again, his hand leaving you momentarily before you feel one, long finger sliding inside you. It’s ever so slightly cold from the overall temperature of the room and the sensation makes your eyes widen, moan leaving you as he twists it inside you.

While he searches inside you, you’re not sure what for but you can’t bring yourself to complain, his lips wrap around your now engorged clit, sucking on the sensitive little bead hard and dragging an animalistic noise from you. Your hand is back in his hair, tugging hard and he moans out in response, eyes closing as he pleasures you.

“Oh god Hoseok...please keep doing that. Please kee-ooohhhh.” You jerk forward suddenly, eyes bulging out as gibberish leaves you. He’s evidently found whatever he was looking for in you, breaking the seal his lips had on you to grin as he kitten licks at your clit once more.

And with a mischievous look up at you, he slowly slides a second finger into you, slick juices coating his hand easily and letting him stretch you wonderfully. Turning his hand round, he curls both fingers inside you and presses them against your walls, his clever fingertips brushing against an extra sensitive part inside of you that has you whining out loud.

This is when Hoseok evidently quits playing around, colourful tattoos shifting as his arm flexes while he fingers you and his tongue works black magic on your clit. It takes a few minutes of trial and error on his behalf, but he eventually manages to find a rhythm that has you babbling unintelligibly as you writhe on the couch, trying to simultaneously slide off to escape him while gripping his hair tighter to keep him going.

“Ohgodohgodohgodohgod pleasepleasepleaseplease Hoseok, oh my god. Please. Please don’t stop. Don’t stop, oh god mmmmhhhheruugh.” You have no idea what you’re saying to him, head thrown back on the couch as you whine and pant and moan and beg him to let you orgasm. That on it’s own was a crazy thought; you’d never had an orgasm with anyone besides your own hand. And sometimes that hadn’t even worked.

But this incredible man, this ridiculously attractive and hot, tattooed man with a tongue piercing that was making this oral even more pleasurable, has apparently got more than enough talent to make that happen. Despite your doubts.

Which is why you don’t try to fight it when you feel the ball of elastic energy in your core tightening, muscles cramping on themselves as your body tries to curl in on itself from the sheer amount of pleasure Hoseok’s tongue and fingers are causing. Gurgled moans leave you and before you even realise what’s happening, your hips begin to circle desperately as his fingers continue at their fast pace, obscenely slick noises coming from them as they slide in and out of you.

He hums quietly suddenly, sucking hard on your clit while the tip of his tongue plays with the sensitive nerves as the ball snaps inside you. Pure jolts of electric pleasure sizzle through your veins and your body convulses violently on the couch, hand tugging even harder at his hair as you jerk and let out the breathiest whine you’ve ever done.

Eyes scrunched tight, you pant desperately as the orgasm finishes, limbs shaking ever so slightly from the pure force of it all and you hear a ringing in your ears. Everything overwhelms you suddenly and you let out a quiet laugh as you slump down, tears surprisingly falling down your face from the sheer power of what you’d just experienced.

“Wow.” Is all you can manage to say, glancing down to where Hoseok kneels between your legs. He’s smiling broadly, teeth ever so slightly tugging at his lower lip and you can see how pleased he is with himself.

“Good?” You push at his head slightly, making a noise at his subtle smugness and he laughs out loud. He darts forward and gives you one final lick, causing you to whine at him before he stands up and sits next to you, inordinately self-satisfied. But he doesn’t tease you or anything, instead just helps you back into your underwear and leggings before heading into the bathroom.

You’re half dozing off by the time he comes back, drinking the water he gives you almost absentmindedly before you’re wrapping your arms around his waist tightly, nuzzling your head into his chest.

“So...you’re a cuddler then?”

His question is almost conversational and you hum lightly, mind not entirely present as you feel yourself already drifting away after the orgasm he’d given you. You’d never been so tired. But you tighten your arms still, squishing your cheek against his chest and inhaling deeply, taking in his scent that has become so comforting to you over the last three months.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me for giving you an orgasm. It was my pleasure, truly. And you don’t need to worry about anything. I enjoyed every second of that...I hope you’ll let me do it again.” He murmurs, kissing your forehead as he shifts, grabbing the blanket that lays next to the couch and wrapping it around you both.

You smile to yourself and nod. “You can do that whenever you want.”

You don’t see the way Hoseok grins broadly, happy that you’d let him go down on you despite not feeling confident about it and ridiculously excited that he’d also made you cum. In fact, he’s more pleased over that one orgasm he’s given you than any he’s given to any girl before.

He doesn’t say anything though, just presses play on the remote once more and carries on watching the show that had so dissatisfied you while you nap peacefully, warmth pressed firmly against him.

Yeah, he’s definitely going to do that to you again. And he’s going to enjoy every second.

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astyle-alex · 3 years

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[Fanfic] Museum Mishap | the BatFam

Museum Mishap | Chapter 5/6

Fandom: the DC Universe, Batman & co. Pairings: Jay x Tim Characters: Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson Rating: Gen Audiences Warnings: None

Total Word Count: 38,590

Summary:

Middle-School Tim Drake is on a field trip to the Science Museum, but with a WE exhibition of top-secret new technologies being staged in the basement, Tim separates from his classmates and breaks into the staff-only areas by using the skills he's developed over years of stalking Batman and Robin.

Current-Robin Jason Todd catches him in the act, but he's not there to confront Tim for trespassing or truancy - he's there because there's a rumor on the street that Tim Drake knows Batman's real name. And the rumor's gaining ground, quick, drawing in the wrong kind of attention.

When a Drug-Lord decides to take the rumor seriously enough to kidnap the little genius, Jason jumps into the crossfire. It all goes downhill from there. Fast.

(Jason is 14, Tim is 12)

|| Read on Ao3 | Read on FF.net | Follow my updates on Patreon ||

Museum Mishap Chapter 5: Checking Up

Dick is the first to notice something’s different about Jason.

Which is fair, because even though Bruce is the first person to see Jason after he wakes up on Saturday, a full 27 hours after being rescued from Sabini (ten of which he’d spent sleeping peacefully in his own bed instead of the Cave’s infirmary) – and even though Alfred is the first person to talk to him after he comes downstairs for breakfast – the bulk of what is actually noticeably different about Jason is aimed directly at Dick.

Literally.

Because Jason is starting.

At Dick.

From across his plate of scrambled eggs and sausage and toast piled high with strawberry preserves instead of the peach marmalade Dick likes and has on his own plate, Jason is staring. At Dick. Directly.

He’s not even glaring at him, he’s just… watching.

Which actually makes Dick more self-conscious than if Jason had been glaring, makes him think he’s done something wrong. Something especially wrong.

Dick had never asked for a little brother, and to be perfectly honest he could admit that he hadn’t exactly been very nice to the one he’d acquired unexpectedly. While he had concrete and valid reasons to be pissed at Bruce for how he’d handled things, Dick wasn’t quite self-centered enough to miss how he hadn’t done right by Jason either.

He’d screwed up their relationship in the beginning and now he spent most of his time trying to avoid making it worse. Which meant most simply that he spent most of his time straight up avoiding it…

The longest span of time Dick had spent alone in a room with Jason since storming off to California a few weeks before his sixteenth birthday – to go be Robin with people who appreciated him and his skill and his right to wear the R, because it was his and always would be – was about the length of a Star Wars movie. The longest they’d spent together without such a specific and effective distraction was about twenty minutes.

In which Alfred usually checked in on them halfway through.

Because Jason does deserve the R.

And he’s always resented that the older brother he’d never asked for thought he didn’t.

Which isn’t exactly true, but Dick has never been able to explain that before Jason – brilliantly observant, woefully astute, and brutally willing to cut to the quick as he was – said something that made Dick get defensive. Which is when the yelling always started.

And the quiet moments in between the yelling had always been punctuated by glaring.

But now Jason is staring – and distinctly not glaring – and Dick doesn’t know what he did, or what he should do now. So, he sits in silence and plays with his eggs and worries.

Because something is different about Jason this morning, and he doesn’t know why – or what it has to do with him. Or what Jason thinks it has to do with him.

Because if Jason’s pissed with him for not getting to him quicker last night, for not jumping in earlier – early enough to stop Sabini from breaking his leg perhaps – then Jason would already be yelling. But he’s not. He’s staring.

And Dick doesn’t know what to do.

“Do you have a driver’s license?”

Dick is so startled by the question he nearly drops his fork.

Actually, he does drop it. He just manages to catch it before it skitters off the counter.

“B won’t let me in the Cave with my leg and Alf won’t let me have the keys to any cars topside until I’m legal,” Jason explains – without explaining anything.

“Yeah, I’ve got my license.”

Dicks voice doesn’t squeak or waver. He’s moderately certain that some sort of magic or robotic voice replacement tech is behind the phenomenon. Or maybe his Robin conditioning is finally proving useful outside of the dark allies where his calm could comfort victims.

Jason nods. He’s still staring.

But now he’s squinting, evaluative. Not quite a glare, but closer.

“Cool. Can you drive me somewhere after breakfast?”

Dick nods. He decides not to ask to ask why Jason isn’t asking Alfred to drive him.

He also decides not to ask where Jason wants to go until they’re already in the car.

They don’t speak again until after Dick pulls into the circle at the end of the Drake Estate’s mile-long driveway, and even then, it’s just a gruff C’mon to hurry Dick along while Jason hauls himself out of the car on his own.

Dick is slightly distracted as he cuts the engine. He nods to Jason – who’s paying him zero attention – as he marvels openly at the fact that they do, apparently, have neighbors.

The Drake mansion isn’t quite a massive or effortlessly grand as Wayne Manor, but it’s a decently imposing imitation. There’s wealth here, excess. And no hint of the soft touch that Alfred has to bring a human element into the aching chill of life with money.

Dick wants to ask what they’re doing here, of all places, but Jason is focused.

It’s a feat for Jason to wrestle his crutches out of the car and limp his way up the wide steps of the ostentation front stair, but he manages. He does it without even making Dick feel terrible about not offering to help – though he knows if he did offer, Jason’s only response would be to curse and try to whack him with the pointy end of his crutches.

Dick follows silently up the stairs after him and waits as Jason rings the doorbell impatiently, pressing it again after only a few seconds of silence.

He’s not quite scowling at the Drakes’ front door, but he’s not smiling either. Whatever he’s thinking about is serious enough to warrant asking Dick for help instead of Alfred. Dick is definitely concerned by that, but there a hopeful anxiousness twisting in him too.

Because Jason needed help, and he asked Dick to provide it.

It’s not much, but it’s something.

Jason’s leaning on the doorbell again when Dick hears a shuffling inside that indicates someone coming to check the matter. Dick hopes it’s not an elderly butler – Alfred moves around pretty well for his age, but it’s a big house and it takes even him a minute to get to the door on the bizarre occasion Wayne Manor has unexpected security-approved visitors.

The Drakes’ equivalent can’t possibly be as light-footed or quick and Dick wants to tell Jason that it’s not whoever’s fault that it takes a while getting from one end of a mansion to the other on a Saturday morning for an unanticipated guest.

There’s the sound of the lock being turned, but the door doesn’t open immediately.

Jason is about to lean on the bell again – and Dick is seriously considering how counter-productive it will be to stop him from being overly rude – when the knob finally spins and the massive solid-wood structure sweeps inward.

Dick plasters a smile on his face and –

It’s the kid from Thursday night.

Dick’s whole being freezes.

It’s the kid that took a beating because Sabini thought he knew something about Batman.

Dick is stuck in a sudden mental rut of wondering why this kid – and Dick know he’s a tough one, he’s seen it, but he’s a head shorter than Jason and probably weighs as much as Dick’s leg and he’s just survived a torturous kidnapping and should be on bedrest with soup and blankets and stuffed animals – why this kid is answering his own door.

Especially in a house like this. His family is clearly rich beyond reason and could have a flurry of staff to care for the household’s daily needs and to fawn sweetly over the poor injured young master. So why is he answering the door?

When his door costs as much as the entire Trailer the Flying Graysons called home in Haly’s Circus. When there are still bruises on his face where Sabini’s fingers gripped him that haven’t quite gone ugly and greenish from healing. When the butterfly bandage on his cheek is still the only thing holding the skin together beneath the antiseptic goo.

Jason’s brain is clearly doing the same acrobatics as Dicks, asking questions it’s not really keen on getting answered because the answers can’t be good, but Jason recovers faster.

Which is good because the Drake boy – Timmy, Dick remembers, except no, that’s just what Jason called him, he introduced himself as Tim in his brief moment of lucidity on Friday morning – is looking between the pair on his doorstep like one of the rescue dogs Dick remembers Haly bringing into the circus fold on their first days of being treated well.

They were cautious and skittish and quick to shy away, but also a little bit awed by the care and attention being paid to them – slightly overwhelmed to say the least. And Tim Drake is clearly in a similar state of mind.

Dick is frozen on the doorstep.

Tim is frozen in the doorway.

Jason falters too, but only for a moment. Then he’s using his crutches to nudge Tim out of the way, so he can swing himself through the door and into the Drakes’ imposing foyer.

Dick follows.

Tim remembers to close the door – and lock it too, with a sturdy deadbolt that Dick knows will provide actual security – and then shuffles after Dick and Jason.

Silent on his feet – impressive, given the floppy sneakers he’s wearing – Tim allows Jason to lead the way through the mansion’s sprawl to its kitchen. Tim is watching Jason’s back as he swings forward on his crutches, which gives Dick time to look around the mansion as they walk. He knows Jason’s scoping the place out too, and he’s glad Jason can manage it with that subtle street-wise skill he’s got ingrained. Dick could probably be subtle – he was trained by Batman – but he’s finding it hard to rein in the reaction he’s having to the place.

It’s absolutely sterile here.

More like a museum than like a house.

Nothing looks soft, or like it’s meant for people to sit on, and the few chairs and cushions Dick has clocked as they move through the sprawl don’t look like anyone has ever used them. There’s not a speck of dust, but honestly that just makes it worse. There are people that come through here, in order to clean it at least, but nobody lives here.

“What’re you saying about your face,” Jason asks bluntly when he stumbles upon the masterwork that is the Drake kitchen. Dick can tell that finding the kitchen has help Jason relax a little, that being in a place that’s meant to be sterile has helped at least as much as the prospect of diving into the soothing rhythm of cooking, but Tim doesn’t pick up on Jason’s new degree of ease and relax himself. If anything, he tenses more.

“I’m going to say that I tried to launch a rocket in the back yard and it blew up in my face,” Tim explains. He watches as Jason moves to investigate his fridge.

He notes when Jason stiffens, flinches as he realizes what he just said to prompt it, and he whips his head around when Dick is the one to speak up about it. “You’re ‘going to say’?”

Dick knows the way he blurted it in aching disbelief is rude. Not calm. Not helpful.

But he’s lost sensation in his limbs and his stomach is still sinking towards the center of the earth at supersonic speeds.

They had dropped Tim back into his bed at 2pm on Friday afternoon, once Bruce had convinced Alfred that he was stable and well on his way to healing. That was almost 20 hours ago. Dick’s stomach churns as he realizes that no one’s been to check on him in almost a full day.

Tim survived a brutal beating, and he’s been dealing with the mental fallout of his kidnapping – not to mention the physical aspects of his recovery – entirely alone.

Dick is staring at Tim, wide-eyed and worried, and he knows it isn’t helping as Tim looks down and toes at the marble floor.

“Mrs. Simz doesn’t work on Fridays,” he mumbles. “She thinks I spend Friday nights with my school’s chess club.”

Jason snorts. “Of course, she does. That sounds perfectly reasonable.”

He pauses. Anyone but Dick probably wouldn’t be able to catch the way he steels himself and forces down a mix of rage and worry before he asks lightly, “Hey, kid, you got any flour hiding in this joint? Baking soda?”

“Why?”

“I’m gonna make pancakes, obviously,” Jason replies, shouldering open the fridge and pulling out milk and eggs. He spreads his haul on the island and shoots Dick a look that he hopes means that he should start investigating the Drake cabinets for mixing bowls and a griddle and such. Because that’s what Dick starts doing.

“Pancakes?”

“Yeah, they’re kinda like pizza – you eat them,” Jason replies, a gruff amusement in his voice that tells Dick there’s some sort of inside joke involved.

Dick wants to think that there’s no part of the joke where he should be legitimately concerned that Tim doesn’t eat, but he also remembers how easy it was to pick the kid up when they rescued him. Sure, he’s only twelve, but Dick is fairly certain that he weighed at least twice what Tim does when he was twelve. Comparing him to Jason – even the emaciated twelve year old Jason that had first been brought to the Manor – would be too tragic to let him keep the smile on his face, so Dick consciously fights the urge.

Tim jumps in to help direct Dick and Jason around his kitchen, Tim acting as Jason’s legs while Jason barks orders. Dick didn’t know Jason could cook, but he’s not as surprised as he thought he’d be – even when Jason whips out the fancy tricks like cracking the eggs one-handed and twirling his spatula as he times the flips perfectly.

Butter and syrup appear on the island as Dick tries to help put the finishing touches on their meal. It’s been over an hour since breakfast, so Dick can definitely eat – and he knows Jason is probably already starving. Tim is looking at the looming stack of pancakes warily, however, and Dick is pleased with himself for not shooting Jason a worried look.

It gets even harder to resist when they actually settle down to eat and Tim expends a painstaking amount of effort on arranging the careful stack of pancakes on his plate instead of making any move to dig in.

“So, Timmy,” Jason says around a mouthful of pancakes, “Find any cool new toys since you’ve been home playin’ with your rocket?”

Both confused, Dick and Tim look blankly at Jason – who rolls his eyes. Then he taps his ear and makes a wide gesture about the kitchen. He’s asking if Tim’s found any Bat bugs.

Dick knows Batman must’ve left some – Tim was suspected of knowing his secrets for a reason, after all, and Bruce would certainly want to keep tabs on any future developments that might potentially occur. What Dick does not know is why Jason’s asking Tim if he found any listening devices hidden in his home – why he’s referencing the plausible option so casually, so openly. Unless… unless Tim knows.

Scandalized, Tim looks between Jason and Dick – redness creeping up his neck until his ears are bright ruby – and then stares down at his pancakes. He nods.

Like he’s pulling teeth, Jason waits a beat to make sure Tim is still alive and then asks with the same casual air, “Find any in here?”

This time, Tim shakes his head, still staring resolutely at his pancakes – and still making no move to actually eat them.

Jason nods, satisfied.

Tim waits, but Jason doesn’t say anything else.

Eventually, peeks up. Looks at Jason. Waits.

Then he slowly, sheepishly turns his head to look at Dick. He’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the accusations and yelling to start. Tim does know their secret, and he expects to be in serious trouble for it.

Jason levels his own look at Dick, daring him to break the tenuous trust they’ve developed in the last few hours by voicing any sort chastisement.

When they’d first brought Jason and Tim back to the Cave, Batman had been on Jason about getting to the truth of the rumors around Tim – to the point of absurdity, considering that there were two traumatized and injured kids to care for, considering that Jason himself was being questioned before Batman would give his broken leg the medical attention it needed…

Dick had spoken up in defense of Jason – asserting his own opinion that Tim was ignorant of the secret that got him wrapped up in this mess – mostly because he was pissed at Bruce for being so callous. Dick knew that Bruce cared, that he cared so much he buried all of his feelings deep beneath an impenetrable layer of cold practicality so he could deal with the pragmatic details of resolving the situation.

But it was really hard to remember that he cared when it felt more like he wanted answers in his own interrogation rather than to help the adopted son he’d just rescued from a drug-lord who’d been asking the same questions.

But Dick had defended Jason’s stand against Bruce.

At the time, he hadn’t realized Jason was lying – that Bruce honestly did have a valid reason to worry about Tim’s ability to threaten Batman’s secrets. He knew Jason wasn’t being entirely honest, but he’d brushed it off as embarrassment at getting caught and needing rescue.

Knowing what he does now, that Tim is aware of much more than he should be, Dick isn’t certain he would’ve made the same call. On the one hand, he wants to trust his brother’s judgement – to stay focused on Tim as a victim rather than a threat – but he also feels the urge to trust his mentor’s trend of caution, because if Tim threatens Bruce’s secrets he’s also threatening Dick’s. And Jason’s. And possibly Barbara, and the Titans, and any other mask they’ve ever worked with… Tim could be very dangerous if Jason’s wrong about trusting him.

But Tim is waiting to be yelled at – waiting to face the good guys’ wrath for simply being clever. And Dick had seen the R on Tim’s sweater. He’s a fan, and he’s been clever, and he’d taken one hell of a beating for a twelve year old kid to be expected to handle.

And he hadn’t talked.

It was more than Dick would’ve expected from most grown-ups. It was as much or even more than he’d expect from adults trained to withstand interrogation.

If Dick needed proof that Tim wasn’t a threat, that was it.

Tim was still staring at him – waiting for his anger. Waiting to be punished.

Jason was staring too – waiting for a reason to get angry himself.

Resolved to let Tim continue to fly under Batman’s radar, Dick doesn’t say anything. He just takes another bite of his pancakes. The bite goes down easier than he expects, validation that his gut trusts Tim on a level beyond instinctual. Something more like kinship.

Tim keeps staring – like he doesn’t quite recognize what it means that Dick is just going on with eating like a major secret affecting both of their lives hasn’t just been exposed – but Jason relaxes. He even flashes Dick what could pass for a smile.

It makes Dick feel like he’s made the right decision all over again.

He’s got very little good history with Jason, but he’s working on his own issues and he thinks that, just maybe, he and Jason can work with this – can use Tim’s hush-hush existence as a bit of common ground to try standing by each other instead of against each other.

Tim is still staring, though.

Still waiting, still worried, still convinced that he’s in trouble.

“Pancakes not to your liking, Tim?” Dick asks, flashing him a grin. It’s not the dazzling, thousand-watt smile that’s always made him shine as a media darling, but it’s still bright and teasing enough to startle Tim. And genuine.

Jason growls before Tim recovers, retorting, “Hey, my pancakes are fantastic, asshole.”

Dick gives a shrug, his smiling building as he feels out Jason’s grumble and realizes that there’s almost no real malice in it – none of the gritty defensiveness he’s used to from Jason.

“They’re, um, great,” Tim replies in a squeak.

With another snort, Jason says, “You haven’t even tried them yet.”

He reaches across the island and swoops a smear of butter onto Tim’s topmost pancake, giving the terrified youngster a mild heart attack. He pushes the syrup across the table with his fork – it’s good stuff, real maple in a ceramic jug – until it clicks pointedly against Tim’s plate.

“Eat.”

Tim picks up his fork, obedient but still anxious and pushes a few bites around before he finally picks one up and forces it into his mouth and down his throat.

Watching as Tim swallows and waiting until it looks like he might take another bite of his own volition, Jason says, “You gotta relax, Timmers. We’re the frickin good guys.”

Dick gives a supportive smile as Tim forces himself to nod.

His eyes jump guiltily to Dick for a moment but then he settles and takes another bite of his pancakes. This time he looks much less like he wants to throw the food back up immediately.

“How’s, um, how’s your leg,” Tim asks. Guilty, which makes Dick’s lungs tighten, but at least he’s speaking up – which means he might be able to be convinced he’s not at fault.

“It’s good,” Jason replies with a shrug. “I’ve gotta stay off it completely for the next week, and I’m benched for the next three, at least, but it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Dick snorts. “You’re supposed to stay off it for three weeks,” Dick counters automatically. He lets himself fall into older-brother over-dive to add, “And B wants to keep you benched for the next two months. Alf might actually put you in a coma if he sees you trying to go down to the Cave before the cast comes off.”

With a shrug, Jason says, “So like two weeks and we call it even.”

Dick tries to claw back the sigh that’s threatening to cut off all his air.

“It was a pretty bad break,” Tim pipes up. He looks slightly guilt-ridden, but he forges on to add, “But it was direct contact to the bone, instead of to a joint, and I’m guessing it was a stable, simple tibia fracture – no skin penetration or muscle tears – and it was either transverse or very slightly oblique, so it should heal cleanly.”

“Not if he bungs it up by trying to do cartwheels on it too quickly,” Dick counters.

“I’m gonna leave the cartwheeling to you, Dickiebird,” Jason replies with a chuckle that’s warm and teasing and so much nicer than the conversations he’s used to having with Jason.

It almost sounds like they’re just talking about your average sports injury, and Tim even joins in a few more times as the discussion shifts to Dick and his penchant for cartwheeling down the long halls of Wayne Manor. Tim’s a fan of the Flying Graysons, and after a little figuring, Dick actually remembers meeting him before – before the show for a picture and a hug and a somersault promise, before Zucco, before his parents fell… before life got so complicated.

Dick and Jason and Tim stay gathered around the island in the Drakes’ kitchen until Tim has completely finished his plate of pancakes without needing to have Jason force him through each bite. And they stay an hour after they’ve cleaned up, and an hour after that too.

They stay until Alfred sends Dick a text to warn him that Bruce is getting antsy with their absence, antsy enough to start wondering where they’ve gone.

Tim looks sad as they start gearing up to head back to the Manor, but Jason assures him that they’ll be back tomorrow – and after school on Monday, assuming Tim actually goes to school on Monday. Neither vigilante would blame him if he wanted to take a day off.

“Why?”

“Because you got beat up by a drug-lord,” Jason told him with a gruff, but affectionate exasperation Dick can hardly believe he’s hearing from the ill-tempered teenager, “That totally warrants a fucking vacation day or two.”

Tim shakes his head. “No, I mean why are you gonna come here? Why’re you here at all, if I’m not in trouble for… you know.” He mumbles through most of the words, falling back into the timid little thing he was when he first saw Dick and Jason standing at his door.

It’s only now that Dick realizes how much he’d managed to come out of that shell.

“We’re checking up on you, baby bird,” Jason huffs, “Duh.”

“But why?”

Tim stands there like the question is perfectly innocent, like it’s not one of the most heartbreaking thing Dick has ever been asked.

If Jason didn’t have a broken leg and crutches to wrestle with, Dick is sure that Tim would be trapped under Jason’s arm getting his hair mussed beyond all possible repair. As it stands, Jason looks halfway to smacking Tim with one of his crutches.

Or smacking whoever made him feel like his current state of being is somehow one that is in any way an acceptable situation for a child.

But Dick smiles and slings an arm around Jason’s shoulders.

“Because we’re Robins,” he says, promising, “And that’s what we do.”

There’s a pause.

And then Tim nods, smiling back in a way that makes Dick’s limbs feel gooey as he goes all warm and fuzzy. He can feel Jason lean into his side, can see that he’s smiling too – not as broadly as Dick is, but the expression is just as genuine. A bit surprised, perhaps, but happy.

The door closes behind them and Jason clambers into his side of the car without beating Dick with his crutches for helping. The drive back to the Manor is just as quick as the one away from it this morning, but not as quiet.

The Robins get themselves on a united platform about having gone to visit Drake as civilians – he’d recognized Jason as a Wayne and they’d gone to commiserate with Jason as a fellow victim of random, rumor fueled violence. They explain again to Bruce that Tim doesn’t know anything about Batman and latch onto Alfred’s concern that the boy’s parents are still out of the country. The Robins volunteer to go over and check on him tomorrow.

At Alfred’s insistence, they agree to spend most of the day there, and several days next week – and bring over some of Alfred’s amazing, high-nutrition cooking.

With all three of them set against Bruce in this, he relents to giving full approval to their plan – assuming that Nightwing patrols with Batman for the next three weeks while Robin remains obediently on bedrest.

The butler sides with Bruce on that one, but he gives the boys a wink behind Bruce’s back and it makes Dick get that warm and fuzzy glow again.

He’s halfway giddy all through that night’s patrol.

Batman notices.

But Dick doesn’t explain when he’s asked about it.

He just says that he and Jason are finally seeing eye to eye about what it means to hero in Gotham, to be Robin… to be a good Robin.

He smiles into the sunrise after a long night of beating up petty thugs on Gotham’s street corners – of looking into and utterly quashing any remaining rumors that Timothy Drake has any information on Batman. And maybe the throws a few extra flips into the maneuvers that carry him from rooftop to rooftop of Gotham’s city skyline.

It’s a beautiful day and Dick resolves to make the most of the chances he’s been given – however unfortunate the circumstances around them. The world is already a slightly better place, and Dick is determined to make it more so, bit by bit.

Because we’re Robins. And that’s what we do.

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#BatFam #Batman #Batman & Robin #Jay x Tim #Jason Todd #Jason Todd x Tim Drake #Tim Drake #Dick Grayson

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clansayeed · 4 years

Text

Bound by Destiny ― Chapter 1: The Job

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny ⥽

Nadya Al Jamil (MC) has been struggling from the day she moved to Manhattan, but her new job as assistant to the mysterious CEO of Raines Corp was supposed to turn her luck around. Until she finds herself caught in the middle of a war involving the Council of Vampires who secretly run the city. An evil from the birth of Vampire-kind stirs beneath, feeding on the conflict, and finds Nadya bound to a destiny she never asked for.

Bound by Destiny and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

She’s never thought about doing clerical work before, but that’s not going to stop her. Nadya begins her new job as secretary for the mysterious Adrian Raines.

[READ IT ON AO3]

As soon as Lily yanks the lipstick from her hand the cab screeches to a jerking halt on the curb. The kind of stop that has the potential to ruin an entire twenty minutes-worth of hasty makeup application.

“Here.” grunts the Cabby, already flicking on his ‘VACANT’ sign and punching the buttons on his dash panel.

“Think you could chill out a little next time on the landing, Speed Racer? Here hon, hold this.” She returns the lipstick to its rightful owner to dig around in her bag for the cab fare.

Nadya sits in a daze; stares at her lipstick like she’s forgotten how to use it until Lily is grabbing hold of her wrist and pulling her out onto the bustling Manhattan sidewalk.

“You okay?” Lily’s hands are warm in the sunlight. They manage to bring her out of her spell. With a one-two-three swipe of her lipstick she brings a beaming smile her roommate’s way.

“Never better. Thanks for the save back there.”

“Thank me with a paycheck. And pizza — you can never go wrong with pizza.”

The main entrance of Raines Corp. faces north, follows the path of the sun so as not to shine in. A strange thing to notice, Nadya thinks, but she can’t help but hope that means she won’t constantly have the sunset glaring in her eyes every evening.

“Final checks!” Lily announces, loud enough to gain the attention of several Wall Street schlubs on their blue-teeth or air-phones or whatever else they use to distract from the tedium.

God, I hope I don’t end up like that at the end of this job… The thought flits through Nadya’s mind briefly before it’s lost in Lily’s vibrancy.

“Phone-wallet-keys?”

“Check.”

“Emergency Listerine strips?”

“Check.”

“Emergency deodorant?”

“Check.”

“Disdain for the bourgeoisie bullshit that allows people to treat secretaries like servants?”

Nadya laughs. “Check!”

“Then my dear,” she squeezes their hands together before letting go with a flourish of wide arms, “there’s nothing more I can do for you. You’re ready to walk into the belly of the Capitalist beast.”

But ‘ready’ though she may be Nadya doesn’t move; just stares at Lily’s encouraging smile like it’ll give her the power to take on the whole world or bring every skyscraper on the block crumbling to their foundations.

Her roommate pushes her ropes of neon-purple dreads over her shoulder and goes in for the hug Nadya didn’t know she even needed; let alone ask for. It’s one she returns warmly — it brings back distant memories of clinging to her mother on the first day of school.

“Seriously, Nadi’, you’ve got this.” whispers Lily into her ear, and Nadya very much has this.

She turns and steels herself—a final mental check to ensure all is secure and well and oh god did I forget my emergency tampon at home no Lily put it in the side pocket thank god so yes, it’s all well—before she strides in through the revolving doors.

“Don’t worry about dinner, honey-bunch! You just earn Momma that cheddar!” She can hear Lily’s faint laughter before the roar of industrialized air conditioning drowns out everything else.

Everything that had happened on the day of her interview had led Nadya to believe he might be a decent boss to work for; one of those kinds of CEOs who had wealth but didn’t flaunt it, or who gave out really epic bonuses come Christmas or the New Year. She figured she’d be seeing a lot of him around — not that he’d be asking her to accompany him to important client dinners or doing that thing in movies where he asks her to order him midnight sushi and it turns out to be enough for two — because what CEO goes out of their way to personally attend the hiring of someone who only has top-tier security clearance because that’s where her desk is?

Boy, was she wrong.

Adrian Raines communicates almost solely by email (or in the more urgent requests, the Raines Corp. interdepartmental instant message app). When he leaves his office he never needs to be accompanied. If not for the heaps of digital filing she’s asked to organize she’d almost forget who she was working for. He’s always polite; signs his emails with ‘thank yous’ and things like ‘I really appreciate all your hard work!’ but the distance takes some getting used to.

“Maybe he’s just antisocial,” Lily suggests over their now-standard lunch break phone call. Nadya can hear the distant tinny noise of digital zombies having their heads blown off on Lil’s livestream. “You know, like one of those reclusive ba-jillionaires in the movies. Or he thinks you smell.”

“I don’t smell!” Nadya argues back — and definitely doesn’t do a smell-check of her armpits sheepishly.

But Lily intends to find the silver lining in everything; one of the things that makes them get along so fabulously. “Think of it this way; sooo many people in your position have to see way too much of their bosses, right? And that burns them out! So you have more time to rake in the dough before you gotta high-tail it from Armaniville.”

“I guess,” she stabs a cold lump of orange chicken absentmindedly, “it’d just be a lot easier if he weren’t so darn nice.”

The next day Adrian sends her a list of things to get from the sub-basement archives; gifts for some client meeting he has in an hour. Nadya takes it on as a DEFCON 5 because each item is a separate ping on the IM server. If it can’t all be in one email it’s gotta be important, right?

All it takes is a requisition form sent below and the whole two dozen paces between her desk, the elevator, and the building delivery desk on the ground floor. She’d go into the conference room and deliver the package herself but while Adrian might appreciate the gesture the same might not be said for other head-honchos. So she leaves it on the corner of her desk for Adrian to grab on his way down.

Just before the lift doors open Adrian turns on his glossy heel. For the first time since her interview he addresses Nadya face-to-face.

“Nadya?”

“Yes, Mister Raines?” They both chuckle. Even with the impersonal disposition of digital communication they’ve found a way to share inside jokes; it took half a dozen messages for Nadya to learn how very serious Adrian was about being addressed by his first name even via email.

She glances up from Nicole’s daily ‘list of chores’ (Lily’s words, not hers, but she doesn’t deny the accuracy) to find Adrian staring at her. Even from across the room there’s a clarity to him. Adrian Raines is attractive; Nadya knows it, the numerous reporters from the tech, business, and gossip magazines Nadya has had to politely turn away all know it, hell even Adrian himself probably knows it — and not in the vain way pretty rich men know they’re pretty, but in a more humble sense.

So yeah, having someone like him stare with that movie-star smolder at someone like her makes it impossible for Nadya not to blush. But he’s her boss, and this gig is too good for all the months of “We promise we’ll have the rent next month please don’t evict us!” back-pay they owe their landlord to risk. And she’s pretty sure trying to romance the boss is a big risk.

She tries again, “Yes, Mister Raines?” because Adrian seems to be in his own little world. One he finally snaps out of.

“I just wanted to make sure you know how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me since you came on. You’ve definitely been one of my more successful assistants.” That’s Adrian; making sure everyone feels appreciated.

Nadya simply shrugs it off; wouldn’t do her well to get too airheaded so early in the game. “Just doing my job, Mister Raines.”

“Nadya…”

“Just doing my job,” she winks, “Adrian.”

It’s the longest meeting he’s ever had; the text she gets somewhere near dawn thanking her for staying but releasing her fills Nadya with nothing short of relief. Gathering her things, clocking out, swiping her card for the lift; everything is routine now. Even strolling passed the conference room on her way to the front desk.

“Are you sure he’s being truthful about his numbers?”

“We can’t be sure of anything when it comes to Cecil, Adrian. That is why I insisted I go myself. He knows better than to lie to my face.”

“Yet he may still have.”

Stopping in front of the frosted glass isn’t one of her smarter ideas. Not like it stops her. Mostly she’s caught off guard by the seriousness of Adrian’s tone even through the doors. Can’t think of a time when she ever heard him sound like that; almost dark, or angry.

But where Adrian is filled with passion whoever he’s speaking to keeps her cool. Her voice a velvet purr so low Nadya finds herself straining to hear, leaning closer to the door and closer to the danger of discovery.

“I have my associates scouring the city for where they might be originating. You’d think someone might report seeing a corpse or two suddenly going grey and—”

A gruff Indian drawl interrupts her. Even from a distance Nadya feels like that’s a bad move.

“This is New York, Kamilah. Bodies are as rare as pigeons!”

“Then what have you contributed, Lester?” asks Adrian.

Lester grumbles something she doesn’t quite catch, then: “Don’t flash those at me, pup. I’ll speak to my men on the PD and see if they’ve been keeping anything hiding under their little blue belts.”

None of it makes sense. There’s walking in on half a conversation and then there’s whatever Adrian and his associates are discussing. The one thing Nadya is sure of is how much she dislikes the knot forming in her gut while her mind races to try and put some of what she’s hearing together.

There’s a long silence. For a moment she fears she’s been found out and her heart drops out through her stomach. Then she hears Adrian again — this time he sounds tired.

“We have to get this under control. Until we do every victim is our fault; their blood is on our hands.”

If there’s more to his speech she doesn’t stick around to hear it. Finds herself out on the cold Manhattan sidewalk just as the sun starts to haul itself up over the horizon. She doesn’t even remember if she said goodbye to the night guard. Her blood pounds in her ears.

Lily made a valiant effort to stay awake and greet her as evidenced by a full cup of tea gone cold on the island counter. But her roommate is passed out on the couch — Nadya envies that ability to sleep anywhere. The words victim and blood and hands echo in Adrian’s voice around her skull like bouncy-balls while she gets ready for bed.

Adrian acts like nothing is different — and to him it isn’t. But whenever she gets the chance Nadya tries to find some inkling, some shadow hidden behind his megawatt smile and usual charm. If ever given the chance to wander her mind starts coming up with fantastical ideas and scenarios: like seeing him as Christian Bale in American Psycho or getting a late-night text for her to come into work and finding him in the process of wrapping a body up in construction plastic.

Nadya only imagines being the victim of the cruel-yet-classy alter ego of Adrian once. Somehow discovering his secret life as a hitman or deranged killer is more believable than the thought that he would ever harm her.

But it doesn’t stop the hairs on the back of her neck from standing up when the rarity arrives of Adrian leaving at the same time as her. Lots of people are murdered in elevators in the movies.

“So… everything alright?”

Nadya looks to find Adrian’s gaze level and calm and right at her. Oh god, she thinks, he knows!

She fumbles for an answer instead — tries, and fails, to play it cool.

“Peachy keen.”

“Are you sure?” He’s not gonna press the matter if she doesn’t want to talk about it; just another one of the things that makes Adrian Raines possibly the ideal man. But he needs to stop looking like a kicked puppy in order to make it easier for her to lie to him.

So she decides to pick a different truth instead. “Yeah, I’m just not looking forward to the long trip home.”

Adrian’s nose scrunches. “I was under the impression your apartment was one train away.”

“Normally it is. But they shut down the station at my stop a couple nights ago. Some accident on the weekend or something.”

It’s exactly the Adrian thing for him to do when he offers her a ride home in the company car. And it’s the Nadya thing for her to decline, but rather than playfully letting it slide Adrian actually insists. Pipes up what could have been the speech her mom gave her about moving to ‘the Big City’ verbatim; with strangers lurking the streets and the subway never really being as safe as they claim.

“And forgive my selfishness,” he finishes while opening the sleek black Buick door, “but I’d have a pretty hard time finding another secretary with hours as flexible as yours. So let’s get you home safe and sound.”

One complimentary ride home is a favor. Then one turns into two, turns into the whole week, turns into “I know your station opened back up yesterday, Nadya, but if I’m being honest I enjoy the detour and the company,” and by the time Adrian’s car is pulling onto the curb outside her building at sunset—the usual time she sets off—there’s really no opportunity to refuse.

“I went to make you a cup, too, but then I realized I have no idea how you take your coffee — secretaries everywhere have shunned me.” Nadya greets him by way of apology, sliding into the now-familiar front seat with her travel mug in hand. Adrian laughs.

“I appreciate the gesture, but I’m more of a tea person.”

If Adrian is surprised when, same time next day, Nadya slides in with her usual mug and a second with a teabag string dangling over the side, he hides it well.

But while their routine has become more personable and casually affectionate it hasn’t entirely cleared her boss of suspicion. There’s three more meetings he releases her early for. She doesn’t snoop like the first time but definitely catches the same voices in her passing haste to the exit.

Then one ordinary night she spots an error on Adrian’s agenda.

“Did you want me to call the Gallery about getting a refund?” She doesn’t knock before entering — doesn’t really need to at this point. There’s something weirdly intimate about sitting in his car flicking radio stations while he pumps gas and returns with her favorite chocolate peanut-butter cookies. Intimate in that it makes knocking seem unnecessary.

Used to it, Adrian doesn’t look away from his screen. “Refund for what?”

“You bought two tickets to this thing, the ‘Manhattan Gallery’s Dedication to National Geographic Auction’ on Friday next.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And—Jesus—they’re five hundred bucks a piece?”

“Uh-huh.”

“So did you want a refund?”

“Why? I asked yesterday if you had plans then. You said no.”

It takes her a moment before Nadya’s doing her best impression of a fish.

“That second ticket’s mine?”

Now out of his chair Adrian leans against his desk with a smirk that could almost be called cheeky. If she didn’t know him better, that is.

“Well who else would I take?” he asks genuinely.

“I—I mean—well Nicole, for one.”

He waves off his assistant’s name. Odd, Nadya can’t help but think, since they seemed have a close relationship — close enough for her to berate him in front of a stranger on the day they met. Maybe less so in the last months… but still.

“She’s been to dozens of these. I wanted to take someone who might actually appreciate something new.” His falter is only slight. “I mean, of course, if you want to come. I probably shouldn’t have assumed.”

And she does, oh she does, but a nagging voice in the back of her head that sounds not-so-suspiciously like Anne-Marie from HR — who probably didn’t think Nadya could hear her over the gurgle of the downstairs coffee cart when she leaned over to her coworker and whispered a nasty rumor about “Mister Raines and his Secretary of the Night” — has her hesitant to say the least.

She’s taken too long to respond when Adrian’s hands fall on her shoulders. He cranks up the AC so high she had to pull her winter sweaters out of storage in the middle of summer. Even through the wool though she can feel the chill of his palms.

“Nadya? Talk to me.” Kind Adrian; Kind, empathetic, stupidly perceptive Adrian.

It makes her step back; gain some personal—and professional—space between them.

“Mister Raines,” and when did this become her life exactly, “I appreciate the gesture; all the gestures, actually, but…” already she’s hoping Lily kept yesterday’s newspaper with the classifieds, “I’m not… well, I’m not exactly interested in you in that… way.”

Adrian Master-of-the-Unexpected Raines goes bright red. Has Nadya wondering if she should take a picture to sell to the same tabloids that claim to see equally nonexistent things like Bigfoot.

Then he takes a deep breath. “Nadya — er, Miss Al Jamil — if I ever gave you the impression I… what I mean to say is that if you’ve found any of my actions untoward — erm — or, possibly, salacious in nature, I assure you, I—wait no, let me—”

He’s actually fumbling, which is how Nadya realizes he’s taken aback by her statement; how she realizes he was a million miles away from that dangerous place. And did he just say salacious?

To her surprise Adrian actually stops when she holds up a finger.

“Before you, uh, choke on your own tongue,” probably not the best idea to bring up his tongue but you know what they say about hindsight, “just… answer one question, okay?”

He nods.

“Is this an invitation as your date, or as your coworker?”

“Good heav — as my coworker, Nadya!” He practically chokes on his relief. It takes an exhale for Nadya to realize she is, too. Then they’re laughing, separately and awkwardly, and the next thing Nadya knows Adrian is pouring two tumblers of expensive scotch from the little trolley to the side of his desk that she’s never seen him use before. He’s her boss and he’s the one offering it, so he can’t get on her case when she accepts the liquor like the peace offering it is.

Friday night comes around and, as expected, the world ends.

“How can one person own this many dresses and none of them be for freakin’ formal events?!”

“Hey! That Sailor Mars dress was made specifically for a ball!”

“Lily, I’m only gonna say this one more time—” Nadya pokes her head out of her roommate’s tiny closet with what she hopes is a glare that thoroughly conveys her frustration; though the way her large glasses are dangerously ready to fall off the tip of her nose negates that completely, “—I can’t wear Sailor Moon cosplay to the Manhattan Art Gallery!”

Lily huffs and nibbles another spicy cheese puff. “Show me where it says that on the damn dress code…”

In a flurry of barely-clothed despair Nadya rushes back across the hall to her own room. Lily follows — cradles her snack bowl in her arms like one would a precious infant.

“I don’t get why the dress you bought doesn’t work.” Lily plops down next to the last-minute ordered dress and is careful to keep her cheesy mitts off the fabric. “It’s nice! And pink looks good on you, girl.”

Nadya looks the dress over with barely-contained spite. “It’s just… more skin than I thought it would be.” She mimes the shape of the dress’ lack of shoulder-cloth and Lily nods with an understanding “Oooh.”

“It just feels weird to wear something, like, kinda sexy after last week’s weirdness, you know? It’s weird! I think it’s weird, he’ll think it’s weird. It’ll just be…”

“Weird?” supplies Lily, who barely has time to duck the ball of socks thrown her way.

“And I don’t have time to go shopping. Adrian’ll be here in…” she looks to her bedside clock and groans, “an hour… I need more than an hour to fix my life!”

“Don’t we all.” Lily falls down beside the distraught form of her room mate and finger-feeds her a puff as per their agreement on dealing with messy snacks in mess-free zones. She wipes her hands diligently on her junk tee and caresses the apple of Nadya’s cheek with her thumb.

“Hon, just wear it. It’s your first time doing the ‘ritzy rich person’ thing and Adrian’ll totally get that. And if he tries to make it weird just laugh it off in that totally un-sexy way you do and boom—instant boner-killer.”

It’s not the pep-talk that would get the Cordonian Princess Caoimhe through her wedding day jitters, but it’s enough for Nadya; and that’s all that matters. With exaggerated grunts and huffs she hauls herself off the bed and starts to wrangle on the dress.

“I told you what he said, right?”

“You tell me a lot of things, sweetie.”

Nadya turns for Lily to dutifully zip her up. “He said I was ‘too young for him anyway,’ like, what does that even mean?”

“Do you want the Valyrian translation or something?”

“He’s thirty-one. I’m twenty-five! My parents had a bigger age gap than that!”

Lily pats the finished zipper, pulls Nadya to turn around so she can do her other, unsung duty by helping Nadya show off what she was born with.

“I mean maybe — stop fidgeting you have boobs so show them off, Christ — maybe he’s into cougars. Pretty boys usually have some form of Oedipus complex.”

“Mm… I don’t think so. Adrian’s different.”

“How?”

“He just — OW who the heck gives purple nurples these days?! — He just is, okay?! Now take your hands out of my bra Lily Spencer!”

The play-fighting gets put aside for the good of maintaining the integrity of the dress. The hour drags on, half of it spent waiting around for her (suddenly too-long, too-unruly, too-resistant) hair to dry. Nadya is always more likely to throw her hair up in a bun and go no matter the occasion, but this isn’t just any occasion. I’ll be representing Raines Corp, and Adrian by proxy, she reminds herself through every stubborn tug of her brush.

Lily is fiddling with her purse as Nadya finally exits the bathroom in a cloud of hairspray and second thoughts.

“So I packed you two granola bars in case they don’t have anything lactose-intolerant. And there’s some spare cash if you wanna dip out and grab a cab home. Did you grab your flats?”

“I can’t switch shoes in the middle of a thing like this.”

“Pretty sure I read something about it being totally acceptable.”

“Where, in a fanfiction?”

“I mean, it was The Royal Romance so… does that count?”

She turns around as she asks and sucks in audibly. The silence is self-conscious; immediately makes Nadya smooth down her hair with a nervous hand.

“What? Oh no, what’s wrong? Speak, Lily, words!”

She finds herself enveloped in a tight hug instead of an actual response, which is both a comfort and jostles her nerves slightly. “Lil’…”

Her roommate’s words are choked with embellished emotion. “You look like a real adult. I couldn’t be more proud.”

“Oh—bull!” Nadya pushes her off with a laugh — but the compliment does bring a flush to her cheeks. “I look good, though? I’ve still got a bit to change up—”

The sudden, high-pitched buzz of the complex bell interrupts as argument. One, long noise before it goes deathly silent.

Lily’s beaming. “Well that was an awfully adult ring. The kind of ring fancy professionals use!”

“No, no no!” Nadya fumbles for her phone to check the time. “He’s early! He’s here! Why is he here why is he ringing the bell why is — Lily don’t you dare!”

But she’s too late to stop the bouncing, bubbly roommate from rushing to the comm.

“Buzzing you in! Come on u—ah!”

Her greeting turns into a cry of protest as Nadya yanks her backwards.

“What are you doing?!”

“I wanna meet him!”

Nadya gestures wildly around the apartment; she doesn’t need to explain herself. The place isn’t exactly in the best state. But who could blame them — the last thing anyone wants to do when they finish a night shift is clean and Lily… well, it was in a worse state before Nadya moved in. At least now there’s a small garbage can beside the couch for all the empty chip bags.

In the time it takes Adrian to knock on their door, the pair manage to gather up empty snacks into the trash and hide everything else inside the ottoman. Lily’s hair whips at her face as she tries to pin down Nadya for the door.

“Girl—what are you doing?” She uses a little too much force in turning off the running sink and they battle clumsily over a soapy plate before Lily successfully replaces it with a towel. “He’s not staying. You don’t need to wash the plates.”

“I—” She has to right herself, but Lily’s correct, as usual. “I panicked.”

“Uh-huh. Door.”

“What?”

“Door.”

A second knock startles Nadya to action. “C-Coming!”

The doorways of Raines Corp. must be specially-designed to make Adrian look like the average man, Nadya realizes, because there’s a towering, statuesque beauty to the way her boss stands before her. He even manages to make the chipped old paint job from the ‘70s look glamorous.

“Ready to get going?” Adrian asks by way of greeting; slides one of his hands out of his pockets and offers a crooked elbow like he’s escorting her to some fancy ball.

She almost manages to take it without incident. Almost. While she regains her balance from being unceremoniously shoved aside Lily busies herself with shaking Adrian’s hand with firm vigor.

“You must be the boss-man! Lily Spencer — roommate, confidante, and Nadya’s personal Bryan Mills.” The way her smile falters isn’t unfamiliar — Adrian’s furrowed brow has already lost him points in Lily’s book.

“I’m sorry — who?” he asks; only just manages to steal his hand back.

Lily scoffs, yet Nadya can’t remember an instance where someone did understand her right off the bat.

“Bryan Mills?” As though repeating his name will somehow jog Adrian’s nonexistent memory. “You know… ‘I have a very particular set of skills that make me a nightmare for people like you?’”

Before he can flounder too long, though, Nadya mouths the movie title over Lily’s shoulder.

“Oh, right, from Taken.”

Lily brightens considerably. “Oh, good! You’ve seen it!”

“Once, I think. I remember it playing on the plane…”

“So you know what I’ll do to you if my girl doesn’t come ho—”

“And we’re leaving!” Her voice raised and pitched high with panic, Nadya manages to hip-check her way into the hall. “When I get home I’m gonna kick your butt!” she hisses — and punctuates her threat by closing the door harder than necessary.

She really hopes she still has a job by the time she and Adrian make it to the stairwell. There are five, possibly six different apologies ready on the tip of her tongue but they die off with a quick glance. Adrian’s smiling — no — beaming in a way she’s not seen before. It makes him look years younger — less like there’s a burden on his chest. She allows herself a moment of relief, and strains herself not to ruin it.

They could be heading out for another evening at the office with the casual ease between them. How Adrian opens the door and only starts the car when she’s buckled in properly, and the light conversation about a meeting he has next week with the CFO of a recently-acquired company. Nadya fidgets in what she hopes is a subtle way the entire drive downtown — it would be a shame to ruin such polite conversation with questions about which forks to use and who to not make herself look like a fool in front of.

Then (all too soon in Nadya’s opinion) Adrian pulls out of evening traffic to park on the Gallery curb. While he steps out to flag down a valet she allows herself a moment of pure, unrestrained panic while looking out the tinted windows.

A red carpet has been draped out for the occasion; down the Gallery steps to stop on the sidewalk where one couldn’t get through the mob of onlookers, reporters, and photographers if they tried. It looks less like a Gallery exhibition than a Hollywood movie premiere. Makes Nadya aware of every stark flaw — from the slightly loose fit on her dress to the few flyaway hairs she couldn’t wrangle in.

“You absolutely cannot do this,” she scolds — an insult aimed to quiet her racing heart, “this is way beyond you. You’re gonna make a fool out of yourself. Nothing in life has prepared you for a night like this… just like your interview. Got that, huh? So… don’t fall on your face or murder somebody and you’ll be fine. Just fine.”

The passenger door opens and a gust of cool night air sends goosebumps racing through every exposed part of her. Adrian extends his hand.

In a stupor, Nadya blinks and it takes a moment for her to register what he’s doing. “Huh?”

He laughs, takes the initiative, and tucks her clutch in his armpit before pulling her from the car.

“Come on. Wouldn’t want to miss the hors d’oeuvres. You haven’t lived until you’ve had beluga caviar.”

Nadya follows — and readies herself to live.

#bloodbound #bloodbound mc #kamilah sayeed #adrian raines #kamilah x mc #mc: nadya al jamil #; my fics #oblv: bound by destiny #oblv: new chapter #lily spencer #nicole anderson

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octaviangrey · 4 years

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My Top 20 Fanfic Recommendations

Aka what to read to understand me/my tastes or what fanfic I’d bring to a desert island to avoid boredom.

First off this is my personal favorites and most highly recommended list, you may not like some or all of them, that’s fine.

Secondly, I’ve been wanting to make this sort of list for a while - a collection of my favorite fanfics and authors in one place which I can refer back to/up date as time goes by.

This will be mostly Naruto fanfic, since I’ve been in that fandom the longest, though I have included works from other fandoms such as; The Hobbit, Harry Potter, Star Wars, Inuyasha, MCU, American Gods, Girl Genius, Labyrinth, Van Helsing, and Batman The Dark Knight Rises.

Links to fic, and author page, included. I try to mention if I know someone is on tumblr. Let me know if I missed anybody.

Be sure to read the tags, and pay attention to the warnings before reading any of these - you are in control of what you consume in fandom. If you are feeling unsure about a fic and want to ask someone about it before reading, feel free to contact me! I try to check my messages regularly.

Please try to leave a comment/like/kudos if you enjoy the fics, the authors all deserve them. (If you can’t leave comments, that’s fine too - real life be like that sometimes. Don’t stress over it.)

20. To Trammel Some Wild Thing By Anon E. Mouse

This is completely self indulgent and a delight to read. The characterization is good and its plot is so much fun. I’m an unrepentant Dracula fan, in all his forms, and this ones damn entertaining. Incomplete - Anna/Dracula - Van Helsing

19. Nukenin By WhisperingDarkness

This fic, and the works inspired by it, are so much fun to read. Basically a 3 for 1 recommendation (be sure to check the links at the end!) A great Kakashi centric work, their characterization is excellent and the kids are great! Complete - No Pairing - Naruto

18. Fear By Almighty_Hat

I know, I know this isn’t the OT3, but bear with me, this is a really good series, looking at what ifs and giving us All the Jagers. Great slice of life Girl Genius style. Complete with an Incomplete series - Agatha/Jorji - Girl Genius

17. Klepto By DeGlace

This so much fun! A rare pair for sure, but it is so good. The chemistry between these two is amazingly portrayed. This fic is sexy, it’s vicious, it holds no bars and delivers on every promise. Also be sure to check out their fic Marrow, which just missed this list. Complete - Catwoman/Bane - Batman Darknight Rises

16. More Fair Than Snow By Jalen Strix

Oh man, this is such a good series. This author in general is very good, and has several other excellent fics, but this series is my favorite of the lot. Great balance of magic and real world, interesting use of fairy tales and a wonderful romance. Complete - Jareth/Sarah - Labyrinth

15. The Woods Are Deep, My Dear by Azzandra

Baby Agatha! World building! AGATHAS AMAZING GRANDMA! A delight to read, it is so fricking cute, and Grandma here kicks ass. The author also has some other great Au’s so check those out. Incomplete - no pairing - Girl Genius

14. RED KING By VesperChan but also on AO3

This author has so many great fics, but this is my favorite. They are also on tumblr! This fic is so gripping and atmospheric, a real feast for the mind. Can recommend the Obleisk series too. Complete - Sakura/Madara - Naruto

13. Lost and Found By NovusArs

Fem!Bilbo Baggins finds and adopts baby dwarves and the adventures thereof. The fic is cute, the characters are cute, the lore is great and this is so fluffy you guys. So fluffy. Incomplete - Bilbo/Bofur- The Hobbit

12. Lord Charming by forthright

This fic is sooo good. The drama, the lore building, the execution, all perfect. Now I know the chapter numbers look intimidating, but they are written in 100 words chapters, so don’t fear too much, you’ll get through it! Complete - Sesshoumaru/Kagome - Inuyasha

11. The House that Luck Built By TheBlackestFrost

This is so well researched, it’s use of belief and mythology is superb. I had so much fun reading this, but also I cried during some of it too. An amazing fix that convinces you of the romance with one of the parties being dead for most of it. Author on tumblr! Give! Them! A look! Complete - Laura/Sweeney - American Gods.

10. The Company of Trees By theroadkillcafe

This is my favorite Mokuton!Sakura fic ever. It’s amazing, it really captures the trials and tribulations of a young girl who’s life is changed so drastically. The supporting cast is really good too. Incomplete - No Pairing - Naruto

9. Kill Your Heroes by TheLightAtLastAndAlways aka Evil Is A Relative Term

Aaaaaaaaaa this is so good!!! The lore! The character growth! The plot twists! This is a masterpiece of writing, and I adore it. This author is never afraid to give gritty consequences, while keeping it fun and action packed. Incomplete - Itachi/Sakura sort of - Naruto

8. Retrograde Motion by Crunchysunrises

This is a fantastic example of the Time Travel trope, and tackles some really interesting lore and world building. I unreservedly love the part were we see Sakura’s seals from her family. It touched me so much I reread the whole thing 3 times in short order. Incomplete - No pairing - Naruto.

7. Amaryllis By silverfootsteps

This author is on tumblr, go check them out! And also this fantastic AU fic! I fell in love with this world, and the characters in it. A rich setting to sink your teeth into, with masterful twists and turns. Itachi is a very delicate flower and it’s great. Incomplete - Itachi/Sakura - Naruto

6. Sansûkh By determamfidd

This fic is amazing, I was able to get my mother in fanfic with this. I think it’s really well written, it feels very organic with the Tolkien world. I’m gonna get this hand bound in leather once it’s complete and gift it to myself, I want this in hard copy. Bilbo/Thorin - The Hobbit & LotR

5. Meeting Like This by FettsOnTop

And also the rest of the series. This Author is a prolific Boba/Leia writer, and all of it’s good, so give it a go and check them out! This series really defined this ship for me, and is my favorite work by the author so far. Complete - Boba Fett/Leia Organa - Star Wars

4. The Pilgrim Soul By jachap

Holy heck in a hand basket this fic is a feast. You will drown in this, the richness of this world will linger long after the final chapter ends. This is a historical fic, starting in the 1920’s and just keeps going even in the sequel. So much research has been done for this, and you can tell. Be warned you will cry. Has a sequel that’s just as good and being updated. Complete - Darcy/Steve/Bucky - MCU

3. Hermione Granger and the Serpents Renaissance by epsi10n.

This is my absolute favorite Harry Potter fic, it’s incredible. The author is very good at building tension, and then ending their chapters on cliff hangers, so you spend plenty of time on the edge of your seat reading this. Incomplete - Hermione/currently undecided. - Harry Potter

2. The Eyes Have It By Shana the Short

Written for FaNoWriMo. I adore this, and it’s incomplete sequel. It’s. So. Good. I can not recommend this enough - it’s fun, it explores interesting lore on what it would be like to develop a brand new Kekkei Genkai, and it has great character development for those who would usually go over looked. Complete - Sakura/Chojuro in the sequel. - Naruto

1. Five Kingdoms for the Dead by Evil Is A Relative Term

This is it, this right here is my favorite fanfic of all time. I LOVE this. I love the characterization, the plot, and is one favorite depiction of Madara Uchiha in fiction. Of all time. This author has already appeared on this list before, and I cannot recommend enough going out and checking out their work. Complete - Neji/Sakura - Naruto

This is not the be all, end all of good fic I’ve read, let alone all the good fic that exists, and I am very tempted to just add a list of authors I like too, but that would be a very ambitious list. Seriously, the number of stories I had to put aside because I love them but they are not quite on the list.... I have 1760 subsripctions just on AO3 alone. I couldn’t fit them all on here.

P. S. If you wish to reblog with any fic recs of your own, please do so! I’m always looking for new reading material!

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surveys-at-your-service · 4 years

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Survey #246

(song lyrics here idc)

What is the most you’ve ever eaten in one sitting? I don't know. Probably too many slices of pizza back when I could kill pizza if I was hungry enough. How often do you skip breakfast? Rarely. What’s the longest you’ve gone without leaving the house? A couple+ weeks, probably. Where are you going the next time you go out? School. What kinds of things are likely to make you cry? Reunions of like any type, seeing things (esp. animals) in pain, if my feelings are deeply hurt, deaths... stuff like that. Really nothing unusual. What are some things that make others cry that don’t make you cry at all? Hm. I dunno. I'm sure there's something, but I'm unsure. If you drink/smoke, how often do you do these things? I don't smoke, and I'll ever only have like a drink or two on some holidays or for my birthday. What website do you spend the most time on and why? YouTube because it essentially replaces television for me. What’s the most amount of time you’ve spent online? Is this usual for you? Oh my god don't ask me this. What is one belief you used to have, but no longer do? In what ways are you influenced by the opinions of others, if ever? The one I disdain the most was being homophobic up to my late teenage years. I wanna curb stomp that ignorant fucking kid. I wouldn't say I'm influenced by other's opinions on things very much. What was the last thing to make you feel good about yourself? Drinking water lmao. How would you describe your overall (or preferred) personal aesthetic? My friend recently described me as a "gothic lolita" and y'know he's onta something. What kinds of small judgments are you likely to make about others? *Small* judgments? Uhhhh... God why am I blanking on surveys so much lately. What was the last thing you did mostly because society expected you to? Shower, 'cuz I seriously wasn't feeling it but needed to anyway. When was the last time you felt out of place? I had to babysit my nephew on my own early last month and I felt like I was in a different universe. I felt so, so unfit in the position and just all-around uncomfortable. I love that boy to death but babysitting is noooooot my thing. Do you believe in aliens, spirits, or angels of any sort? Yeah. Well, not "angels" by true definition, no. In what ways are you superstitious? I'm not. Where was the last place you went walking and how far? Would you rather exercise alone or with other people? Like, for fun? Not since I was at Sara's. I DO NOT like exercising in front of other people at all. What kinds of nail polish colors do you prefer to wear? How about makeup? Black is the entirely superior makeup color. How would you describe your own relationship with makeup? It's just for fun for me when I actually feel like it, and even that's rare. I usually only put makeup on for some pictures. Who has been in your life the longest amount of time? What about the shortest? My mom the longest, and my school teachers the shortest, I guess? Who was the last person to leave your life? How about return to it? My fucking therapist that deserves my fist through her face. Return, uhhhh yeah I dunno. It might be Sara, and that was yearsss ago. When it comes to travel, what kinds of places intrigue you most? Wildernesses, especially with mountains, rivers, waterfalls... that kind of stuff. Do you think humans colonizing Mars is a good idea? Would you go, if you could? No. Focus on the goddamn planet we're already on. If it was a life or death situation, I'd go, but otherwise, I'm staying here and at least trying to patch it up. What is the farthest you’ve walked in one day and what made you do it? Oh, many miles, I'm sure. I used to walk for literally hours out in my yard at night with my iPod. That was so common for me. Funny how now I'm recovering from muscle atrophy in my legs. Do you have a chore/housecleaning routine or anything like that? A "routine," no. How organized would you say your living space is? The house is currently a travesty. What is something important that’s often on your mind lately? Success in school. Do you find it easier to forgive yourself or others? Others. Have you ever had to call 911? For who/what reason? Yes; Mom thought she might've been having a heart attack. Thank fuck she wasn't. Do you like oatmeal? If so, what kinds of things do you like in it? Oh yeah. It's like a regular for me now that I'm big time trying to lose weight. I like the apple cinnamon one. What was going on the last time you felt nostalgic? Thinking about that walking question. How much attention do you pay to the movements of the stars and planets, and do you believe they influence anything? The most non-Pagan belief I have is being void of this one. No. When was the last time you were afraid to tell someone something? Heh, speaking of being (mostly, ig) Neo-Pagan. Classmate and I were doing an assignment getting to know each other and she asked my religion. She was a serious Christian and was clearly SO uncomfortable when I awkwardly answered lmao. When was the last time something didn’t go the way you expected it would? My disability case hearing just a week back. I expected to be way, way more terrified, shaking even, and was prepared for an intimidating judge. Just in general I was afraid of it being "court-like" and with a lot of people, but it was okay. I think having my attorney there was crucial to my (relative) calmness, though, because I was comfortable with and liked him. What is the most difficult or involved video game you’ve ever played? Most difficult that I ever tried, Dark Souls. Quit that waaaay early. Hardest that I've beaten, I honestly think The Legend of Spyro: The Eternal Night. Don't even @ me w/o trying it yourself 'cuz that game was so fucking hard to where I rage-quit for years until beating it. I did play it a second time for fun, though. Still hard. Most involved, oh, easily World of Warcraft. Years of effort put into too many characters la;ksdjfawoei Have you ever taken lessons for anything? Yeah; dance for a very long time as well as guitar. What’s your favorite band’s name? Well Ozzy goes solo. Btw I nearly died when I heard the Parkinson's news wtf life how dare why him- Who is your last sent text to? My mom. What’s your favorite flavor of Gatorade? I do noooot like Gatorade. What does your bikini look like? Oh hunny I'm barely comfortable in a one-piece. Do you drink the milk after you finish cereal or just leave it in the bowl? I can almost never drink it. The taste is just changed and is usually gross. Have you ever worn glitter eyeliner? No, yikes. Imagine that getting in your eye. Has anyone ever called you a hippie? I don't think so. Did you have any unread texts this morning? No. Have you ever been involved in strength training? No. Who is the last person you kissed? Sara. Have you ever been to a pottery painting store? No. Are bonfires common with you and your friends? Not at all. I don't think I've ever done that with friends. If you’re really quiet, what is probably the reason? I'm thinking about something intently. What does your boyfriend/girlfriend call you? N/A How much does the last person you kissed mean to you? A whole lot. Do you use lotion? If my skin is particularly dry. Have you ever used a sewing machine? No. Is hairspray a staple in your morning routine? I've never regularly used it. Do you believe in teenage love? Fuck yes I do, I can promise you that. When is your favorite TV show on regularly? It's discontinued. Who is your favorite person to waste time with? Sara. What has been the most significant thing to happen to you this year? Well, it's the first day of February, so I'll imagine you're asking about the past year, in which case I went back to school. What kind of kid were you when you were seven? Happy, weird, kinda hyper, outgoing and goofy. Do you always eat those mints you get at some restaurants? Yeah, if they're not the semi-soft ones that kinda melt in your mouth. Ew. Is there a subject you know so much about that you’d be able to teach it? Sure, but nothing like seriously important. Do you believe that being ‘cultured’ is important? Why or why not? I mean, probably if you travel. It's definitely wise to try to act at least semi-"appropriately" in another country. Where did you purchase the computer you’re using right now? Best Buy or Office Depot, idr. Do you think it’s fair to compare Family Guy to The Simpsons? I don't care? Will you miss CDs if they end up going obsolete? Why or why not? Not really, I just don't care. If you could relive one hour of your life so far, what would you choose? I don't have a clue. Do you think animals have a sense of humor? Probably. Animals can definitely act silly. Are you proud of your hometown, or do you try to distance yourself from it? That place is shit. Has your idea of the perfect romantic partner changed with age? Oh yeah, to a degree at least. I had such a fairy-tale ideology on love back then. How many cars have you ever owned? Myself, zero. Can you do math in your head well? I almost can't at all. What’s your favorite flavor of potato chip? Oh man, that's hard. Maybe salt and vinegar. Do you ever read the weather forecast? I mean I'll check the app on my phone occasionally. Do amusement park rides make you sick? Thus far in my life, no, but I'm too afraid to try some out of fear of that. Who is your favorite Star Wars character? Don't even like SW. What kind of cheese do you put on your sandwiches? American. What radio station do you listen to the most? None. Who was the last person to give you a gift? A family friend for Christmas. How old were you when you got your driver’s license? I'm about to be 24 and still don't have it. What was the first thing you ever learned how to cook? Scrambled eggs. Did you ever collect beanie babies? Maybe? I know I had one big one (me and my sisters had a matching set of different colors; mine was pink, what a shocker), but idk if I actually collected them. When was the last time you got a haircut? Early last month. Have you ever been to a bachelor/bachelorette party? No. How many people can you say you TRULY love? Romantically? Two. Platonically, a whole lot. Where are you most ticklish on your body? My feet jfc. Have you ever bailed anyone out of jail? Nope. What’s the last board game you played? Shit, what's it called. Something with my nephew. It's the one with the popping dice in the middle and four different colors to move around the board. "Sorry!" or something? Have you ever given someone a fake phone number? Might've when stupid kid me made prank calls. Do you have any bumper stickers on your car? No. Do you leave good tips when you eat out at restaurants? I've never been the one paying. Do you still own any VHS tapes? I'm sure Mom has home videos stored somewhere. If there was a real Jurassic Park, would you visit it? Oh fuck yeah 'cuz I'm dumb and love dinos. Have you ever gone golfing? Not legit golfing. Do you know any sign language? No. How many friends do you have that are married? Close friends, like people I still regularly talk to, none. Do you still have your wisdom teeth? Yes. Did you have a swing set in your yard when you were a child? Yes. Do you eat your mac & cheese with a fork or a spoon? I don't really care so I haven't noticed which I usually use. Where did you have your first kiss? His bed. When you were a kid, were you ever afraid of cooties? Lol no. Do you ever go Christmas caroling in December? No, I could never omg. Which overrated tattoo are you sick of seeing? I don’t care. Get what you want. What was the last thing you taught a younger kid? Apparently to say "aw shucks" at everything lmao. Are the clocks in your house mostly digital or analog? Digital. We have on analog in the living room. How long have you had your television(s)? God, years. A loooong time, but it's a fine TV. Do you like watching movies made with CGI or do you prefer hand-drawn ones? I tend to enjoy CGI more. I like realism in what I watch. Where did your parents buy their car(s)? Dad, idk. Mom got hers for free; a dance friend ran into a deer, so the front bumper got fucked up, and she wanted a new vehicle. Mom took it because shit, it was drivable, and she DIY fixed up the bumper to make sure it stays in place. Literally with zip ties and duct tape lmfao but HEY it WORKS. Do you know why your grandparents chose your mother’s name? No. Do you think you’d do well at teaching the English language to a foreigner? I think I'd be at least decent. What is a store you like that is exclusive to your country? Idk what's only exclusive to the country. If you attend school, what time do you usually get home after? Like, 4:35 or so. Mom finishes her field work at 4, and afterwards we go home. Have you written a resume before, either for yourself or someone else? Yes. What is your favorite thing about snow? IT'S PRETTY. What do you usually do when you have trouble sleeping? Try to go back to sleep at first, and if I really can't, I get back up on the laptop for a while. Are you satisfied with your social life (or lack thereof)? NONONONONONONONO. What TV show do you just assume you wouldn’t like? 13 Reasons Why. Do your friends have more money than you? lol duh I make none. Who always has the power to make you feel intimidated? Pretty much men as a whole...

#survey #quiz #questions

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moonprincess92 · 7 years

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A family can be 2 traumatised soldiers and their 30 children (1)

Jyn Erso (who may or may not have broken a man’s arm during mandatory recruitment training) is forcibly assigned to train the Rebel Alliance’s “youth” class as a punishment.

A 'Jyn accidentally ends up adopting 30 children and Cassian thinks she's #nuts but helps out and wHOOPS guess we're basically parents now' fic.

Read on AO3

Part 1

Jyn Erso could handle the cold.

She had grown used to surviving any kind of weather while fending for herself. The flurry of snow that rattled the base walls, the icy blasts that raced through the Echo One hangar, none of it deterred her. Nothing would make her move while she was waiting.

He’d been gone four days this time. Not the longest amount of time by any means, but long enough that she was starting to get twitchy. Any longer, and she knew exactly what would start happening – the headaches, anxiety and the severe lack of sleep – and so self-isolation it was. The symptoms came and went, depending if it was a good or bad day and she knew that it probably wasn’t very healthy to have another person’s presence decide whether it was a good day or not, but she’d just been through a goddamn war. She’d handle her issues later.

It was when she kicked her heels against the metal crate she was perched on when she could finally breathe again. His shuttle had announced it was coming in to land over an hour ago, but only now was he finally traipsing back into the hangar, a disgruntled expression on his face as he dusted snow off his jacket. Jyn had stopped caring about what others thought months ago.

She ran.

“Jyn!” Cassian only had seconds to react before catching her in his arms.

“How long does it take to land a stupid shuttle?” she muttered, hugging him tight.

“It’s a blizzard out there, I’d like to see – … it’s good to see you too,” Cassian grumbled.

This was new. Everything about their lives felt new. Sometimes, Jyn wondered whether she really had died on Scarif, that she had somehow been burned up from the rays of the Death Star and was then reborn from the ashes, because sometimes it felt like she was having to learn how to live again. She wasn’t used to caring about someone. She wasn’t used to someone else caring about her. She pulled back out of his arms hastily, stumbling a little and trying not to smile too much, trying not to catch his eyes, only she apparently stumbled too far. She bumped into someone significantly smaller right behind her.

“Oh, sorry–” she began.

The kid couldn’t have been more than 12. He shot her a wide-eyed look for a second or two, only to be hastily pulled along once more by one of the officers who had been on Cassian’s mission.

“Who is he?” she asked.

“A child we picked up along the way,” Cassian shrugged. “We go out recruiting, sometimes children find us.”

“They’re going to seriously let him join the Alliance?”

“You don’t officially enlist until you’re eighteen … but I was six when I first came here,” Cassian just shrugged.

Jyn supposed she had never thought about it. She knew that Cassian had had roots in the Alliance for a long time (I’ve been in this fight since I was six-years-old) but she had never really thought about what it must have meant … she pictured for a moment a smooth, bright-eyed Cassian, young and scared, wandering these endless corridors. She had seen some young faces around base before when she was paying attention, but then again, anyone under the age of sixteen was a child to her for all she knew. She couldn’t ever remember seeing someone as young as the boy before.

“True,” She turned back to Cassian. “Well, you’re in one piece at least, so I’m going to call the mission a success. Come on, we’re probably both starving.”

“Training?” Jyn cried, aghast.

“Yes, training,” Draven snapped, his patience clearly almost worn thin by this point. “I’m not going to accept Saw Gererra’s upbringing as appropriate training for the Rebel Alliance, and neither will anyone else on the council for that matter. And NO,” He added on at once. “Running around the galaxy as some kind of free-lancer or whatever the hell it was that you did before you wound up in prison does not count as ‘training’ either.”

Outraged, Jyn tried to remember what Cassian would tell her. Breathe. Count to 10. “Fine,” she practically spat. “How long will this training last?”

“New Recruits go through the usual six standard months of training before they officially enlist–”

“I’m a goddamn Sergeant!” Jyn nearly leapt the table.

“An emergency rank–” Draven threw back.

She was practically seething. She didn’t regret the attempted assault, but she did regret having to be hauled out of the meeting room over Cassian’s shoulder like some kind of wild animal. If she hadn’t have been held back she would have punched Draven for sure, but she still didn’t need the High Council knowing she was as unstable as she already knew she was.

“Six months!” she yelled, still hanging over Cassian’s back.

“I know you’re mad, but it’s not that long–”

“Says you, Captain!” Jyn complained. “I blew up the kriffing Death Star! I don’t need training, Draven just wants me shoved somewhere out of the way where I can’t do anymore damage–”

“To be fair,” Cassian’s arm that held her over his shoulder tightened at the hint of amusement in his voice. “we didn’t do the actual physical blowing up of the Death Star.”

“Whose side are you on? And would you put me down?”

Cassian dumped her to the floor halfway down one of Echo Base’s endless corridors. Stark white and bland, everything felt meaningless here. The blood had rushed into her face which didn’t help the angry flush she no doubt had. Fighting was the only thing she could think of that might help. She had spent too long keeping her head down, trying to stay out of trouble, ignoring the problem instead of actually doing something. Their insubordination through the Rogue One mission obviously hadn’t helped get her into the Council’s good books, but she might have thought that succeeding in the mission and getting the Death Star plans at great personal cost might have at least meant something.

Apparently not.

“I just want to help,” she insisted.

“I know,” Cassian said, voice thick with something she couldn’t identify. “but going through training has to be better than doing nothing.”

“Right. I’m a useless spare part to the rebellion,” Jyn muttered, bitterly.

“You are not useless,” Cassian countered. “You might feel like you contribute nothing and I know that this isn’t what you hoped for, but you’ll be of no use to us if your training is lacking … Jyn,” His hand moved and Jyn almost flinched. It was an unspoken rule that they didn’t needlessly touch. They hugged when reunited, they deflected blows as they sparred, but parts of her screamed that she still barely knew this person. They didn’t brush hands, squeeze arms or press against each other’s sides (no matter how much she might want to).

But his hand reached for her now. It clamped on her shoulder, warm and heavy. “Jyn,” he said again. “you are worth something.”

Her heart gave a very painful lurch.

“Fine. I’ll do it. But I won’t be happy about it.”

“Are you ever?” Cassian let his hand fall away, a small smile gracing his lips.

The training gym had apparently once been another smaller hangar for the base, only it had been quickly closed off and re-designed due to the amount of snow build-up. It was frigid and her training officer was a total moron, but at least she got to punch the shit out of other recruits.

“ERSO!” the training officer barked as again, her opponent was sent flying to the floor. “YOU’RE GOING TO BREAK AN ARM DOING THAT!”

“He’s fine!” she called out in earnest, gesturing down at the recruit at her feet.

“He’s crying, that’s what he is!” Without so much as another word, Jyn was sent to the back of the group. She tried not to snarl, but she did notice most of her classmates giving her a wide berth. The current new recruits were made up of anyone from Imperial defectors, all the way to civilians who had never held a blaster in their lives before. She was barely four weeks into this nightmare, and Jyn was certain that she was yet to actually learn anything of actual use. Hanging on the fringes of the class as the training officer fawned over the man she had just dropped (honestly, his arm was fine! … ok, probably fine) Jyn felt her attention wander.

The old hangar floor of the training gym had been split into several different areas, each marked by painted lines on the floor and decrepit old rugs that masqueraded as training mats. The far end she noticed had been turned into a target range, but apparently they weren’t due to actually start blaster training for another week. She was going to die of boredom before she could ever actually join the rebellion.

Instead of watching the new recruits hesitantly try and get each other out of headlocks, Jyn glanced over at the mat nearest them. Two young recruits sparred together with long wooden bows. She was certain that the girl couldn’t be more than 17, the boy even younger perhaps. They seemed to be part of another large group of recruits, only Jyn realised to her surprise that these ones were all young children. They sat around the edges of the mat, cheering the older teenagers on as they fought. Jyn noticed the boy Cassian’s mission had picked up amongst the crowd. The 12-year-old watched the fight with hungry eyes.

The girl kept trying to jab at her opponent. The boy wasn’t quick, but she could never do quite enough damage to take him out. When she failed for a third time in a row, Jyn found herself suddenly calling out,

“You want to use your entire body behind your thrust.”

The teenagers on the mat paused. They looked around nervously and Jyn nodded, indicating that she was the one who had spoken. She held up an imaginary bow. “You need more strength behind your thrust. Use all of your torso – then the bow–” She mimed the action.

The girl tried it. She stabbed the boy right under the ribs, making him gasp.

“That’s right–”

“Excuse me,” a rather angry voice cut in. “but who the hell do you think you are?”

The man who had stormed right up to her was almost as short as she was, but his ire apparently made up for it. He was balding and huffy and Jyn didn’t have the patience for this. “Sergeant Jyn Erso, Sir,” she retorted.

Immediately, the children around the mat started hissing and whispering to each other. Several recruits from her own group were turning back to her now, wondering what was going on. Luckily, Jyn’s own training officer hadn’t noticed.

“Are these your recruits?” she asked, gesturing a hand vaguely towards the mat of children.

“They are,” the officer in front of her snapped. “what are you doing talking to them?”

“I’m teaching something,” Jyn pointed out. “which apparently you aren’t doing much of.”

She noticed the teenaged girl behind the officer exchange an amazed look with her sparring partner.

The officer in front of her turned red, spluttering. “Who the hell–”

“Erso!” her own training officer had finally realised a scene was happening. He stormed over, addressing the other man, “Officer Hadlow, if this recruit is hassling you in any way, feel free to send her to –”

“She’s trying to tell me how to do my job!”

“Only because you’re apparently too busy yelling at me to notice that one of your kids is trying to chew the gym mat!” Jyn pointed angrily at the small child she’d noticed behind Hadlow’s back. The man turned in a flurry, yelling, “Caylen, how many times have I said don’t do that–?”

At least a little satisfied, Jyn turned back to her own training officer to accept her fate.

“Training … the youth class?” Cassian murmured.

“Yes.”

“The … the youth class?”

“I could do it,” Jyn tried not to sound so hurt at his scepticism.

“It’s not that, I …” She felt Cassian shift beside her a little. “I just didn’t think it would be something you’d willingly do.”

Jyn hadn’t either. She hadn’t even wanted to bring it up at all. The days that they could spend together on base she didn’t want to waste with talk of her ridiculously ineffective training. She didn’t want to talk about the headaches and the anxiety. She didn’t even want to speak about his classified intelligence missions (well, most of the time). No, she wanted to speak of normal things, mundane things. How his day had been, what they ate for lunch, where they thought the next rebel base would be. Whether they could remember the name of another one of the soldiers who had died on Scarif. They could never exactly have normal lives, but they could at least pretend like they did.

She wasn’t quite sure when the sleeping together had happened.

She curled in tighter towards his body. Her bunk was technically still somewhere in the recruit barracks, so squeezing into Cassian’s was always a mission in of itself, but they made it work. She knew that there had been a night they had just been talking in his room together when she’d accidentally fallen asleep mid-conversation. Maybe that’s when. A lot of their relationship seemed to happen in leaps and bounds, after all. Months of nothing and then suddenly, everything. They only slept together, but that didn’t mean Jyn didn’t think about other things sometimes. About how her heart would snap every time he left for a mission, or how he would always get a cup of caf for each of them in the mornings without even thinking about it, or how he would hold her on the nights she would wake screaming.

She tried not to think too much about his mouth and how she would very much like it on hers one of these days.

Jyn tried to shift away, lest he feel the length of her body burning, but there wasn’t much room in the narrow bed. It was late, they should be going to sleep, but the evenings were the only times they ever really got a good chance to talk.

“Look, apparently, my training officer refuses to ‘handle’ me anymore,” she tried to explain herself.

“You? No,” Cassian muttered into her hair.

She slammed a hand into his chest. “He complained to Mothma. Apparently, Officer Hadlow is leaving to take over training recruits at an outpost somewhere, so they’ve been looking for someone to take over the youth class. Mothma called me in today. She said if I refused to be trained, then I should be more than happy to do the training.”

“So you’re going to … teach?”

“Apparently,” Jyn rolled over so that they were almost nose to nose, his arm slung heavily over her. “and Mothma seemed to really enjoy sentencing me. Cassian, you were in this class once. Be honest, what have I gotten myself into?”

He almost laughed. “If anyone can handle the kids, it’s you.”

“But I know nothing about children!” Jyn bit her lip. “I was the youngest person in Saw’s entire cadre, and I certainly wasn’t treated like a child. How do I even talk to them?”

“Ok, so maybe the youth class has a reputation for eating people alive,” Cassian mentioned, lightly. “but just talk to them like they’re human. I think the Council often just sees them as future soldiers and forgets how young they actually are.”

“You don’t think I’ll mess up?”

“Oh, you’ll mess up,” Cassian said. “but learn from it and you’ll be fine – ouch–” He suddenly hissed against what Jyn knew was pain in his thigh. He cringed, a hand reaching down and rubbing the spot where he had been shot on Scarif, the spot that had never quite healed.

“It’s hurting again?” Jyn asked quietly.

“It’s the damn cold, it’s always hurting–”

It was no use trying to suggest he see a medic. Cassian was nothing if not stubborn and any hint of physical injury would take him out of the field, so he silently bore his pain. If Jyn had her way she would chain him to this bed. She let her own hand inch down and pressed down over top of his.

“We should try and get some sleep.”

She didn’t want to. She hated sleeping. She hated the images that haunted her when she was unconscious, but she also knew she had no choice if she wanted to remain functioning. Luckily, sleeping by Cassian’s side usually made it better.

They drifted off with their hands still entwined.

Jyn’s first day taking over the youth class didn’t go so well.

The children were anywhere from the youngest 3-year-old boy, to the teenaged girl Jyn had helped in the gym at 17. There were 22 kids overall and between them, they came from 19 different planets, spoke 29 languages, and had probably an uncountable number of behavioural issues. Some were children of soldiers on base, and many more had wound up in Alliance care somewhere along the way with who-knew-what traumas behind them. They had a ‘classroom’ of sorts dedicated to their training that was down the corridor from the training gym, but it wasn’t so much a classroom than it was a prison. Rebel posters were slapped up on the otherwise bare walls along with multiple scratch marks and scribble drawings. There were low tables and a few broken chairs tossed in a corner. The large mat sat on the floor near the back of the room had stray threads yanked out of it and vomit stains on the corner. Sulky teens huddled together around one table while little kids screamed and ran everywhere else.

Jyn stared in amazement.

Well, she had to start somewhere.

“You!” she barked at the teenaged girl she had helped in the gym. “What’s your name?”

Luckily, the girl’s face lit up. Her accent was similar to her own when she spoke, though she had much darker skin and hair than Jyn. “I’m Malia! You’re Jyn Erso – GUYS, GUYS! Remember Jyn Erso?”

The entire room came to a screaming halt.

Jyn hadn’t expected much of a welcome from the youth class, quite honestly, but these kids apparently knew of her. Faces gaped in awe. Friends whispered to each other. Malia looked beside herself. Well, at least she had the room’s attention now.

“My name is Sergeant Jyn Erso,” Jyn confirmed for the record. “Officer Hadlow is teaching a different squad of recruits, so it’s my job now to take over the youth class.”

One kid let out a barely-concealed snort.

“Clearly,” she continued without being thrown. “Hadlow didn’t do his job very well. That’s going to change with me.”

If the Council wanted to punish her, fine. If they refused to let her fight, then fine.

She would create her own army.

While the children had been rather receptive when she first walked in, everything kind of just slowly derailed from then on.

Malia was only one of a handful of older teenagers, whereas most of the class were under the age of eight. There were no records accompanying them, no indications of their previous training – there was just absolutely no way of telling what these kids had been through or what they had seen. Jyn had to forcibly separate five physical fights within the first hour, with one little girl actually scratching her, while another screamed every time someone so much as looked in their direction in the background.

God, she had her work cut out for her.

Malia, at least, had apparently warmed to her. The teenager seemed bright, and mature enough that Jyn (with desperate relief) felt like she could talk to her and get some answers out of her. Malia seemed only too happy to help throughout the day as she cheerfully pointed at each child and rattled off facts and anecdotes,

“Yeah, that Lyle has a nasty bite, watch out for that!” Malia warned at one point. “Oh, Warrin’s the one who can speak five languages – it’s good because he can interpret for Kady – but I also think he’s got some kind of attention disorder, because you can’t get him to concentrate long enough to actually listen to someone, ha! – no, no, Trina’s the one who scratched you – that’s not infected, right? – yeah, she speaks basic as well as her home-planet’s language, but she’ll pretend that she doesn’t just to annoy you. That’s Rivi, she is CRAAAZY good with a blaster, but also a compulsive liar, oh my god – that’s Talek–” She pointed out the boy who had arrived with Cassian’s mission a couple of weeks ago. “He’s the newest and so far, he doesn’t talk. Like, I think he can, he just … doesn’t. I don’t know. Oh – that one’s Arlo, he’s the youngest–”

Her head literally swam with the onslaught of information day one had hit her with, and the next day wasn’t that much different. Actually, the entire first week kind of felt like she was being repeatedly shot and told to somehow enjoy it. It was ridiculous! She didn’t have the first clue as to what she was doing! From morning to afternoon, she was literally wrestling with these kids to get them to just stop hitting each other. How the hell was she supposed to teach them when she couldn’t even get them to all listen to her for five minutes at any given time?

She sighed in exasperation as once again, 10-year-old Reno shoved Azha out of his way. The last hundred times Jyn had stormed over there and stopped the fight before it could ensue, but now she just rubbed her eyes, pressing down hard as she leaned against the wall and waiting for the inevitable to unfold. Sure enough, Azha’s whining voice cried out, “RENO, I HATE YOU!”

She wasn’t cut out for this.

“Ooh,” Malia had apparently sidled up next to her, and Jyn peered over as the girl watched the fight in amusement. “My money’s on Azha! Kiddin’, I have no money.”

“How do I do this?” Jyn asked.

“You’re already doing better than Officer Hadlow.”

“How? I’m not doing anything!”

Malia just shrugged. “You actually give a shit.”

Jyn considered that for about five seconds, before sighing and storming over to where Azha was currently sitting on Reno’s head, pummelling his body with her 11-year-old fists. After hauling the girl off him and dumping her on the other side of the room, something snapped in her mind.

This was her fate. This was what she’d been dealt with. She could either throw the cards back or play them as best she could. She could see quite clearly that the Rebel Alliance didn’t want her here. Despite everything she’d done for them, she was a liability, someone to try and get rid of. They couldn’t literally banish her, so she’d been put here in the hopes that these insane children would eventually drive her away.

And for about five minutes, it had worked. She’d considered leaving.

But then she watched Kady, who was frustratingly attempting to join in a game without understanding anything. She saw a seven-year-old have a brief moment of empathy for another who was crying. These children were being treated just as well as she was right now and Jyn found herself gritting her teeth. Damn it, Mothma was not winning this round!

She was doing this.

Cassian ended up walking into his room eight days into Jyn taking over the youth class to find the walls plastered with what looked like an entire essay.

“What the …?” he began.

“Don’t mind the paper,” Jyn turned around in greeting. “I guess I could’ve just used a datapad, but it helps to see it all laid out.”

Cassian moved to peer closer at the scribbled notes Jyn had written. Twenty two pieces of paper – one for each child – were taped haphazardly to walls. A name was underlined in bold, followed by literally any notes she could think of for each child.

“Have you been doing this all day?”

“Just since getting back from class,” Jyn admitted. “Mothma wants me to quit, I know she wants me to quit! She assigned me to that classroom knowing full well what she was throwing me into. It’s a kriffing war zone in of itself, Cassian, but if I survived Scarif, then I’m surviving this! I’m not letting Mothma scare me out of here, no way in hell.”

Cassian smiled a little. “Is it still in that grotty classroom near the training gym?”

“It’s disgusting!” Jyn said. “I mean, that’s how children of the rebellion grow up? In a room with as much personality as a rock, getting the living daylights beaten out of them ten times a day? Screw the kriffing council, they couldn’t care less about those children! How the hell did you survive to eighteen?”

“I learned how to block a punch very quickly,” Cassian answered simply.

“Well, it’s changing,” Jyn said determinedly, nodding up at her wall of notes. “Mothma can shove it, you’ll see!”

“I believe you – wait, you have a child from Fest here?” Cassian pointed out Lyle’s page.

“That kid is a menace,” Jyn pointed out. “he’s bitten me about three times now!”

“Don’t worry, that’s common on Fest,” Cassian said, apparently without thinking. Jyn felt a thrill of something hit her stomach as Cassian suddenly glanced around, looking somewhere wildly over his shoulder. “I – I meant–”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Jyn failed to conceal her smirk. “I’m learning about every side of you, Cassian.”

He took off his boots so that he could throw them at her.

Jyn Erso marched into the classroom with a mission.

“New rules!” she barked. Maybe she sounded too much like a Sergeant, but right now, the youth needed one. She slammed a giant chart that she had spent far too much time making up on one of the walls. It was so big that it covered several of the rebellion posters. She slammed up a second, similar chart right next to it. “These are your reward charts! Twelve and up, your name is on that chart, if you’re younger than twelve, your name is here. You might notice next to every name is a green card,” she gestured very clearly to the easily accessible coloured cards. “Every day, you’ll start on green. If you do something bad, it changes to yellow. That means warning. If you keep being bad, it changes to red. That means time out. If it changes to black …” She glared at the children. “You don’t want to know what happens on black. Got it?”

Naturally, the children didn’t exactly take to her plan, but she hadn’t spent two full days researching on the holonet for nothing. This was a system she had seen a few times, so had figured it was better to at least start somewhere (that, and Cassian had voiced his concern that she was still up at 3am once again and really, she needed sleep more than anything else, come on). She dragged one of the few unbroken chairs across the room and declared that that was now the time out area.

Within five minutes, Lyle had bitten her.

The warning wasn’t heeded, and another bite definitely meant time out. While Jyn was busy dragging five-year-old Lyle into the time out chair for the tenth time, she let her mind wander a little and contemplated how it was that she had ended up at this point. Her chances of surviving she hadn’t dared hope of, but nowhere during the battle on Scarif did she expect to survive, only to end up hauling a screaming child into a plastic chair.

Jyn was practically convinced that this hare-brained idea would never ever work, until suddenly, on the 19th time … it did.

“Is he … staying there?” Jyn whispered to Malia.

The girl grinned as they watched the boy cry and rage, but ultimately stay remaining in the time out chair. “I think he is!”

“I can’t believe it.”

“I can!” Malia said.

“Toys.”

Mon Mothma glanced up in bemusement over her desk. Jyn wasn’t wasting time going through the ranks, she was hitting up the main woman herself. Mothma gently placed her datapad down, before casting her gaze on Jyn, with her tangled hair and bruised arms (were those teeth marks? The answer was yes, probably).

“I’m sorry?” she asked.

“You want me to teach the youth class, fine,” Jyn snapped. “but I need toys. Lots of them.”

“This isn’t a nursery, Sergeant Erso.”

“You have a classroom in this base with eleven children who are aged 10 and under,” Jyn pointed out. “These kids are going nuts because they’re bored as hell. I’m not teaching a three-year-old hand to hand combat yet, so either you give me some toys, or YOU can teach them.”

Jyn wasn’t entirely sure how Mothma managed to come through for her, but she did. The woman had probably thought that Jyn was storming her office to finally say that she was quitting, but had gotten the exact opposite instead. The shrieking was unbearable, but Jyn persevered, at least just for the looks on the kids’ faces. Jyn stood back from the two large boxes that she’d had Cassian help her carry, watching as they devoured the contents. She was certain that some of these kids had literally never had a doll to carry before.

“They’re so happy,” Cassian mentioned.

She glanced back at him, standing a little further away that she’d expected. The man had obviously experienced some kind of flashback on coming into the place he had spent a majority of his childhood in, and not a good one if his face had been anything to go by, but he was still there at least. Jyn reached out to him.

“They’re not going to hurt you,” she said, lightly.

“Like you can talk, they bite you,” Cassian eyed the kids, but she just grabbed his arm and hauled him forward next to her.

“Yes, I’ll be breaking up fights over the toys within thirty seconds, I’ll bet you,” Jyn said. “but look, isn’t this worth it?”

“You’re really starting to enjoy yourself, aren’t you?” Cassian asked.

Jyn scoffed. “I don’t know what you – AVA! You give that back to Kady right now!” Jyn cut herself off with the reprimand, as the younger girl had snatched the datapad out of the older’s hands. Ava grumbled, but gave the datapad back to Kady. Jyn hoped that Mothma had taken her list of requested items seriously and that there would be at least some downloaded stories in multiple languages on the datapads. She knew that Kady was still struggling to learn basic.

“Jyn,” She glanced down to notice Arlo tugging on her trouser legs. The three-year-old held up one of the datapads and asked her, “Read me a story!”

Jyn sighed, glancing at Cassian. He shrugged, so she promptly sat down in the middle of the floor. To her utter surprise, Arlo crawled into her lap the second she was seated, shoving the datapad into her hands.

She honestly hadn’t thought that she’d had that much of an impression on these kids yet. She stared down at the top of Arlo’s head and realised that oh shit, she’d never actually done this before. How the hell were you supposed to hold a tiny person like this? The last time she’d been held as a child must have been before she’d lost her parents, for god’s sake! She almost looked to Cassian for help, until she remembered that he was probably even more out of his depth here than she was.

She had no choice but to quickly figure it out. She took a deep breath before accepting the datapad that Arlo was banging against her leg. She could do this.

She could do this.

“Right,” she said determinedly. “So Arlo, which story do you want to read?”

He picked one and Jyn began a very riveting children’s book about an animated Bantha. Before long, it wasn’t just Arlo, but several others crowded around them too, listening and all wanting to see the pictures. Jyn hadn’t expected so many to be roped in with such a simple story, but apparently kid-humour was fairly easy, as they had all roared with laughter when the Bantha had slipped in his own poo.

“You actually liked that?” she asked in disbelief once it was finished. “Arlo, seriously?”

“Read it again!” the boy insisted.

“It was funny, Jyn!” Ava was giggling.

“I’d trust their judgement,” Cassian said simply then, cutting in. He had apparently decided to join them on the floor, and he currently sat a little behind her as if trying to hide himself slightly. Jyn glanced around at his words, causing several of the kids to do so as well. Cassian had gotten a lot of side-eyeing when he’d first come in, but the distracting toys had prevented anyone from really questioning why this strange man was in their classroom until now. Arlo stood up in her lap, bony feet digging in as he and literally everyone else eagerly stared over her shoulder at the new-comer amongst them.

“Who’s that?” Trina asked loudly and unapologetically.

“Ok – HEY EVERYONE,” Jyn had to yell over the background melee of new-toy-fun. Thankfully, the children seemed to recognise her yell by this point. They all went silent (save for Reno still banging furiously at a datapad) which left Jyn free to point behind her.

“I want you guys to meet Captain Cassian Andor,” She shot Cassian her best encouraging smile. “He’s a soldier, and my friend.”

“A soldier,” Trina said. “Whooooaa!”

“Did you ever kill anyone?!” Rivi suddenly yelled from across the room.

“Oh my god, is that the hot one from Intelligence?” she heard 16-year-old Tavisha hiss to Malia.

“WILL YOU READ ME A STORY?!” Ava shrieked in greeting.

Jyn just shrugged at him. Cassian clearly hadn’t been intending on interacting too much with the children of the youth class, but it seemed that the kids weren’t giving him much choice. Within 20 minutes, he had been roped into reading at least five different picture books, Ava having dropped unceremoniously onto his lap somewhere between books two and three. Jyn watched him with a protective eye the entire time (look, these kids could be literal animals at times) but the more he read, the more at ease he eventually seemed to become. He’d even caught her watching at one point and had given her a tentative smile over Ava’s head.

“See? They didn’t kill you,” she said good-naturedly at the end of the day. Walking back to Cassian’s room together after dropping the kids back off at their barracks, Jyn grew slightly more serious then. She added in a lower voice, “But, hey. I’m sorry if … going back there was hard for you or something. I guess I didn’t really think when I asked for your help.”

“It’s fine,” Cassian reached out, touched her arm briefly. “I just remember that place as being hell confined to four walls. It was nice seeing the kids with a training officer who actually cared.”

“Oh, that’s me,” Jyn said, dryly.

“Seriously, Jyn,” Cassian said. “You’re great with them. They’re going to go far with you.”

She touched his arm back in thanks.

#rebelcaptain #rebelcaptain fanfic #ro fanfic #rogue one fanfic #rogue one #my fanfiction #a family can be #PLS TELL ME IF THIS IS GOOD #there's like several parts to this story lol it's gonna cover all the way to the end of the war #i also literally have a list of every single child lol #i hope this is ok yall pls tell me #xoxo

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harmonizedheroine · 7 years

Text

Winter2017

I. Confused - Jan2

Here I am, sitting at the mesmerizing cliffs of dover pretending that I am making decisions that are worthwhile, writing words that I thought could offer me solace. It is my last year here and I fear that there is no clarity near, like I will always be drowning in the same relentless cycle of malcontent.

It’s almost choking me at this point, the thickness of the grime from that past year inching up towards my cranium, threatening to fill up my brain with its thoughtless dark.

But, at the stroke of midnight all of that passed. The silent orb of brightness escaped the shadows and caressed my face… “You’re so beautiful.” I melt under rays of endless summer that promise me joy, joy and nothing more.

I remember, there was a cloudy shine awaiting me outside, but I shouldn’t have left. What if I missed it. The chance, the opportunity, the perfect one.

But, there’s a whole year. A whole year to figure out how I can near my inevitable bliss because I know one day I can reach it. I can achieve happiness and I am willing to persevere whatever obstacles I must in order to do so.

“This is my year,” they all say each year. But, I mean it. This is the year that I take control of my life because fate is passing. I have to do something because if I don’t, who will?

So, this is me…and these are the ramblings of a mad woman. I can’t wait to spend the next year with you and I hope this post grows as long as….the Nile River.

II. Ability - Jan5

I want to be able to…

reach the moon with only the help of one balloon,

break through the walls with a single push…pop,

make my childhood last as long as infinity

time and record the blissful surrender into calamity

witness the dark and passionate affair with a soul that of Dorian’s

worry even the smallest person passing me by

capture the attention of an untamed lion with a gaze

because god only knows what I’d be without you.

III. Weirdo - Jan7

Dude, so apparently it’s #wastemytime2k17 because I have been scammed, yet again. Honestly, it would have been dope if Joanne the Scammer herself had scammed me, but alas...t’was not. So, basically, Nate is over which is a rough situation for me to be in, having had liked him and spent a lot of time with him for several months. I still have his bracelet. He gave me literally $170 worth of Vans and I can’t return a pair because I wore it BUT I plan on returning the other pair because it just feels wrong.

He literally ripped my heart out. I drove to Megan’s after I made up a very smooth excuse that my mom needed me home. It was 2am. It made sense. I just didn’t wanna cry in front him...So, I just dipped. Like...it was just a boozy night. What the heckaroons, 2017 is MY year. People have to stop trying to ruin my year. But, you see, that only ruined my week. I’ll get over it. No one is worth my year. And, in the coming months, I will forget all about it and him. I just need a little bit of time!

Donald Glover’s Weirdo is one of the best one-hour stand-up’s I’ve ever seen. It is insanely funny and I love Donald Glover because he is an absolute gem. It totally repaired my night. And I found out that I’m the bomb. Like what an L for Nate. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be. I mean...he doesn’t like Kanye which is like fine whatever I guess I get it. But, then he said he doesn’t like Frank Ocean because he’s too mainstream. I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN THEN. Also, he’s not into Star Wars??? I was shook.

I found out several things from my time with Nathan. If a boy says he doesn’t like the major things that I like....AKA FRANK FREAKING OCEAN (like who doesn’t like him), then that means that something is up. I also learned that I can be like really nice sometimes or...you know what I’m saying? Like I can be really really nice when people are really really nice to me. Reciprocation was a big takeaway word from this lesson. I honestly think that it ended because cuffing szn has officially concluded. Onto living life to the fullest. This is my year. And I can’t wait to makeout with cute college boys at parties again (haha kidding, but at the same time let me LIVE, mom).

IV. Quirky - Jan11

frick

frickity

frack goes the click clack

goon

fiend

shoots patoots

any form of the word baboon

baboon

baboonery

to be continued….

V. Takeaway - Jan12

I figured from a few posts ago that I learned something or, you know, a lesson from each of the boys that I’ve spent time with, whether short or long or recurring like Megan Fox on New Girl...it’s all a struggle. But, let’s take it from the start!

Ben - Cool cat. All I can take away from this is that we were both fetuses and it was the longest relationship that I’ve ever been in (1 year I think??), yet it wasn’t even one lol. But, he’s the bomb and we’re still really good friends. I guess I can take away from this that exes CAN be besties.

Nick - My on-and-off boyfriend. We’re currently off, obviously, and hopefully forever. I learned from this kiddo that I love funny guys, they’re the best. I was really sad to see junior Nick turn into a douchebag compared to the Nick I knew just a few years before. I learned that I don’t deserved to be cheated on and that boys can be boozy. It was just ratchet. And I’m dope. Also, friends with benefits works only in the rarest of occasions and please don’t enter that sort of relationship with you EX. Bad idea, buddy.

Ethan - He spent more time with video games then paying attention to me. Obviously, the lesson here is that that is completely dumb and I’m dope. Except, it also showed that drummers are my kryptonite (reference one of my two biggest high school crushes: Matthew Butler). But, yeah, I love video games and I can totally play and actually enjoy that shit because...they’re dope. But, it was just boozy.

Ted - Okay, this is the first boy to take me out on dates and it was literally so adorable and I loved how much effort he put into things because he liked me. We went to the city and the zoo and you know all of this cute shit. But, it was supposed to be casual. He was perfect and amazing, but it was destined to end. I learned that you can’t make someone like you. The whole time, I thought that he would maybe realize that he would want to actually be with me. FALSE. But, it’s okay. Because I still enjoyed my time with him.

Yash - Yeah, it was fun. But, I hate boys that love drama. I know he kept saying that he hates drama, but I literally told one person about Yash and he flipped shit and it wasn’t cute. Also, after a while, he stopped being all cute and nice. Not cute. I learned that assholes are never fun, to not take people’s shit, and that I deserve like waaay better lol.

Nate - He was absolutely too nice to me and he treated me fantastically. Totally sweet and caring and compassionate and kind. But, that can only amount to so much. That could only come to be so much, though, you know? From my last post about him, I could say that I learned liking a few of my major likes like Frank Ocean are kind of important. I want to talk to someone about everything, even like intellectual stuff. He was absolutely too good to me, but in the end I wasn’t enough. Which is okay because I’m enough for myself. I learned that nice guys definitely don’t finish last, that I’m a great girlfriend, and that I deserved someone who goes to the third floor (future me: I hope you remember what this means lol. I DESERVE SOMEONE WHO GOES TO THE THIRD FREAKING FLOOR, IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK FOR.

VI. Enough - Jan14

IM SORRY FOR ALL OF THE RELATIONSHIP POSTS... my love life is boozy and I promise to fill this szn-long post with more fulfilling and relevant life stories and shiz because this relationship drama is getting boring.

my relationships have all ended with one word in mind looming over me for weeks on end afterwards: enough.

i feel like i’m never enough. i get that boys like me, maybe even a lot do/could. but they never like me enough. i just want someone to care about me enough to not cheat and actively tell themselves that they would never cheat because…in all honesty, i think i’m a fairly good person. it’s not like im an awful girlfriend or even an awful person. you know…i get that people can “like” me, but they just don’t like me enough…enough to want to keep me in a real relationship, to try. because i try. i always try and lose myself to trying to make people happy, whether it’s with relationships or even just my friendships. i always exert all of my energy and find none of it reciprocated. and i guess im not really complaining, it just sucks you know?

all starts with nick. im not enough for him to stay loyal (these hoes aint loyal). for ted, i wasn’t enough for him to keep once northwestern started. for yash i wasnt enough for him to not eventually treat me like trash, straight up. for nate, i wasn’t enough to put his faith in, until college and maybe even further.

like i hate getting my hopes up, waiting for something that would never happen, and just trying so hard to care about people who couldn’t even…i dont know. its just…im tired. im so so tired and so discouraged and boys keep treating me like trash and ugh.

it might sound dumb or whatever, but i feel like i deserve more than this at least. because im enough for myself and that’s for sure. so if im not enough for other people, then that’s on them. seriously.

what just tears me apart is the whole nate thing right now. like yeah for sure im talking to danny right now and he’s an absolute dreamboat, but the whole nate situation still manages to upset me, you know? like he’s literally pretending that i don’t exist. it’s like we don’t know eachother. and he doesn’t wanna date me because college. well yeah, but that’s in 7-8 months. Also…I’m not the type of person to cheat or leave someone as soon as I see the first cute person at college. I feel like I would care more than that. rough. yet another case to validate the fact that nothing ever goes.

so here i am now, going back to my fall go-to of “casual” things with people. because i don’t want to cry over a guy again. freaking 2017 is my year. im over it. lmao. sorry i just needed to rant, please don’t read this :/

VI. Scammed - Jan20

There has been an update.

I’ve been informed by Megan and Max, two excellent sources, that I was, in fact, scammed by Nathaniel. So, it turns out that he kind of used me to see if he could get over Corey. Throughout the two-three months, I was actually just part of a social, personal-discovery-esque experiment. A lab rat, of sorts. Which is absolutely bogus, in my humble opinion.

So, right after he broke things off with me, he goes straight to Corey, pours his heart out to her, says he still loves her, and they kiss. Fast forward to him bringing her to the opening night of my show, the school musical which he damn well knew I was in. I didn’t know about the whole “Still In Love With Corey” thing at the time, so I freaked out to Megan and was super down about what I was hypothesizing was them being back together.

So quick for him to jump the boat. Anyways, after that, I heard that Corey told him she doesn’t want to be in a relationship again. Sucks for Nate, truly. And I really have 0% desire to be petty about this and talk about how karma had it coming for him. Because I don’t believe that.

Out of all people, I would understand very well the situation he was in. To like someone, but still be in love with the last one. I think I was just super unlucky to be caught in the crossfire of something happening. It’s kind of like Ross’ girlfriends throughout the show. Everyone knew he would end up with Rachel because he always loved Rachel and those poor girls in between were just unlucky people caught in the crossfire. Yeah, he liked them. But, Rachel was always the one. I’m not Nate’s Rachel and that is absolutely fine with me.

If I think about it, in the long run, it wouldn’t have worked either. He doesn’t know anything about politics and I love talking about politics. He hates Frank Ocean, Chance the Rapper, Kanye, and literally just everyone that I like but listens to heavy metal all the time because it has amazing drums YET he doesn’t like rock and alternative rock because???? He doesn’t go to the third floor. And he’s not planning to go to college and I am. I want someone who can care about me, make me laugh, and who I can talk to about anything. And it just wasn’t there with Nate.

(also, megan and max said it wouldn’t have worked out anyways because he’s a virgo and i’m an aquarius. sounds like bullshit, but i read up on it and it all was so real so i guess that theory checks out)

What I’m really just upset about is that I had to be the pawn in this. I wish I was just left out, that I never had my feelings hurt. You know what? I actually take that back. I wish that he told me the truth when he broke it off. You know? “I really like you, but I think I’m still in love with Corey and I’d hate to hurt you while I’m still confused and going through this,” would have been a lovely approach at breaking it to me. I wish you told me this BEFORE I wasn’t New Years hanging out with you :/ Well, whatever. New year, new me (minus Nate!)

VII. Questioning - Jan22

I just don’t know where I stand in the world right now.

I’m sitting here, on my couch, crying more than I have in a long time because I am so afraid that my parents won’t love me no matter what.

I was born into a faith, a life which was chosen and destined for me. Roman Catholicism would be my religion and that was the final word. As I grew up, with the influence of my environment and the people that I’ve come across throughout my years, I’ve slowly but surely come closer to finding who I am. And, with that, comes doubt. For a really long time now I’ve had so much doubt in my religion and so many questions and...it strikes me. What is the purpose of it all? I understand the reach it has for certain people; I understand the bond and importance of this religion and its impact on so many lives. But, I just don’t know if I believe in it all. I mean, of course, I think I do. But, was I just conditioned to think that way? Is this all the culmination of my whole life being surrounded and pushed into this lifestyle? I’m so lost and have so many questions.

Less than twenty minutes ago, I asked my parents if I could skip church this week to study. I have so much homework because of the musical and I still have a shift pretty soon. Of course, my dad freaks out.

I understand that I have amazing parents who are completely not strict on me at all and I am so thankful for my freedom that’s been allotted to me. But, what struck me was when I almost made my dad cry when I said that I feel no spiritual connection in going to church anymore. “This isn’t how we raised you,” he said, voice painfully cracking. He walked away to get some water. I just didn’t know what to say. Because it was true. It was the full disclosure: I don’t understand why church is important for me to prove my faith. Why is there more importance placed on this one hour of the week then actively trying to spend time with me or get to know me.

I want my parents to know me: know what music I like and how much I love it, know my political views and why and just take time to understand instead of debate against it. I want to have dinner with my parents again because I just have not been home this entire year. I study so hard and I just...I’m missing part of myself to this.

What struck me during my tear-driven talk with my parents was when my dad said something about “non-negotiable” and I was hurt. “Religion is non-negotiable?” I’ve known for years now that I wasn’t planning on attending church in college, but I’ve never said it out loud.

I think that before you further your spiritual connection at things like church and mass, you have to establish your connections here on Earth. Show activism in your connections to people, show you care, and strengthen that before you try and “prove” it in a setting like church. I think that one hour does not define you and that you can be a fantastic person and Christian without it. I think I want to work on being a better person first. Of course, Catholicism helps in matters of after-life...faith of a world after this one. But, how can that work of there’s not importance placed on the life we have now?

There is nothing more that I value than what my parents think of me and I never want to disappoint them-- one could argue that that is my first priority. But, it comes at a price because I find myself sacrificing who I am to serve this false facade, giving them the perfect image of the daughter that they raised the “right way”...

I’m still lost and don’t really know where I stand on this. I don’t know. And I don’t think I have to have all the answers, at least not yet.

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