#i kind of forgot to when she handed the phone over. i said 'hi jon.' 'hi.' and then there was a silence over the phone bc i was thinking
Professional - Jonathan Toews
Summary: You were expecting things to become calm after landing the position as Jonathan Toews' PA, as calm as your stressful job could be. Your relationship with your boss, though, makes your life become anything but calm.
A/N: It’s here! It’s out! Wanna thank my bestie @captaindaddies for helping me out with some stuff, ily bby ❤️
Word Count: 14,4k
Warnings: Lots of swearing, SMUT, maybe even a tip of angst, lots of nervousness and lots of teasing. Mentions of Patrick Kane, if it might bother.
Nervous, that was how you felt. Standing on the front steps of Jonathan Toews’ house was you, your bag nervously pulled close to your side as you mustered the courage to knock, to let him know you were finally ready to work as his personal assistant.
How you landed the job was still unknown to you: you were inexperienced, and everyone could tell by the way you were nervously standing in front of his front door. Still searching for the courage inside of you, you breathed out a sigh. You needed to get your shit together.
Jonathan Toews wasn’t intimidating. Right?
After breathing in a large amount of air and pushing it out of your lungs quickly, you let your knuckles hit the wood of his door, your heart hammering against your ribcage. You waited, for so long you almost thought you had missed him due to his early morning practice. When the door opened, though, you were met with a composed-looking hockey player.
You had seen him only through the screen of your laptop, but you could say that he looked way better in real life. Trying not to get too lost in his dark eyes, you greeted him softly, a nervous smile on your features.
“Y/N! Great to finally meet you in person!” He spoke, his voice deeper than you could remember as he looked at you, a professional smile on his lips. “Come in, I got a few minutes before I have to leave for practice,”
“Thank you, Mr. Toews,” was all you were able to mutter, getting rid of your coat and holding it in your arms as you looked around the rather large mansion. He gave you a small tour, and you found yourself mesmerized by everything he had shown you, from the high ceilings to the large windows that viewed Lincoln Park.
“I left a list of things to do on the kitchen counter,” he said when you found yourselves back in the main hall. “You’ll find everything you might need in that paper,”
“Okay, sir,” you smiled, finally at ease. Rummaging through your purse, you grabbed the stack of papers you had printed out for the occasion, carefully handing it to him. “You asked for my curriculum,”
“Right,” he nodded his head, scanning through the words quickly. “I’ll take a look at it after practice,”
You smiled his way, nodding your head before he could leave the room to grab his bag, leaving you on your own in the large hall. You hesitantly let yourself wander inside the kitchen, where the paper he had talked about was sitting neatly on the isle.
“I’m heading out,” he called from the hallway. “My number is on that paper, if you need help with anything,”
“Thank you, Mr. Toews,”
“Oh, and make yourself at home, Y/N,”
-
“What are you even reading, man?” Patrick sighed as he dropped his helmet on the bench, looking at an already-showered Jonathan slumped over a bunch of papers.
“My PA’s curriculum,” Jon mumbled, lower lip tugged between his lips.
The teammate snatched the papers from his hands, scanning through the words with a smirk on his face. “Originally from Canada, fresh out of college, worked for a company for a couple of months, ten years younger than you,” he nodded his head. “And she’s even hot,”
“It’s strictly professional,” Jon huffed, jokingly punching his friend’s shoulder as he turned around to grab some clothes, his eyes finding your picture attached to the files as he did so.
“Yeah, sure,” Patrick rolled his eyes as he took off his skates. Jonathan got dressed in silence, his mind wandering back to you and what you could have been doing at the mansion. He had received no call from you, no text, so he was guessing everything was coming along just fine back at his place.
“You aren’t even going to give it a thought?” Patrick asked after a while. “You’ve been single for ages, man,”
“She’s my employee,” Jonathan sighed, sending his teammate a dirty look. “I pay her to work for me, that’s all,”
“Whatever you say, Jon,”
“I’ll see you later, Kaner,” was all Jon said as he grabbed his duffle bag, propping it over his shoulder as he left the room, his mind elsewhere. Entering his Tesla, he took a deep breath and decided to go grab another coffee, something he didn’t do too often.
Patrick was exaggerated, Jon knew it already, but his teasing words impressed themselves into his mind. He wasn’t going to lie to himself, he had taken a liking to you from the first moment you had your call together for your interview. You were kind, a smile constantly on your face as you answered his questions, you were willing to do everything he asked you to do.
He shook his head when that phrase formed itself in his brain, taking a rather different turn from the professional relationship the two of you shared. Hell, he was shocked at his own self when he let his mind even go there just after your first time meeting in real life.
Turning off the car in the coffee shop’s parking lot after grabbing his usual order, he slid his phone out of his pocket. His brain was telling him not to do it, not to get too into your business, but he wasn’t thinking straight anymore.
He couldn’t even remember when the last time he had pressed on that contact’s name was, that was how much time had passed since he had last called that person. He didn’t hesitate, finally starting the call and pressing the device to his ear, his eyes focusing on the steering wheel.
“Mike? Hey, it’s Jon,” was all he said as soon as the old acquaintance picked up. “I need a background check on someone,”
-----
You had graduated at the top of the class, moved away from home for college, to Edmonton. You had an older brother, you weren’t big on sports when you were younger, you liked traveling. All the information was engraved in Jon’s mind.
You didn’t like being late, it was clear from the way you had apologized earlier that morning, Jonathan’s coffee in your hands as you mumbled sorrowful words. You overworked yourself, you weren’t one to leave work undone, and you didn’t like disappointing people.
From his spot in his living room, Jonathan analyzed you, his brows furrowed in concentration and arms folded over his chest. You were interesting, to say the least. There was something about you that had him extremely intoxicated.
Was it your sweet perfume? Was it your laugh? Or the way you spoke? He didn’t know. Less than two months. That was how long it took his thoughts to become anything but professional, that’s how long it took for him to become more than aquaintained with your presence.
Was it your inexperience? Only two boyfriends throughout high school and college, both lasted less than two months. Or was it your innocence?
You kept him awake at night, thinking about you the way a boss shouldn’t think about his employee. You had become a constant distraction at practice, during meetings, during moments he had less expected to even think about you.
He had never felt that weak for a woman ten years his junior, and he truly felt frustrated.
“Mr. Toews? Everything okay?”
Your sweet voice sent jolts through his body, snapping him out of his trance. Mr. Toews, the name kept making his cock strain against his pants, no matter how many times you called him that. “Yeah, I’m fine, Y/N,” he mumbled, voice deeper than usual as he stood up from the couch. He was at your side in just a few seconds, his eyes finding the screen of your laptop to see a schedule. “What are you doing?”
His arms caged you against the kitchen island as his chest slightly touched your back, his eyes still attached to your screen as your heartbeat quickened. “I uh- I’m organizing your schedule,” you stuttered, your body shivering from his closeness. “Player media tour is coming up soon,”
“Right,” he mumbled, a smirk painting itself on his lips as your breath got caught up in your throat when he squeezed your waist before leaving the room. You struggled to stay concentrated after he left, your mind going places it shouldn’t go as you cursed yourself for feeling that way about your boss.
Everything felt so wrong, from the way your heart hammered against your chest every time he stepped close to you, to the way you often found yourself in need of release from his teasing actions.
Working for Jonathan Toews had been unexpectedly hard, it was testing your boundaries. Holding yourself back, acting as if he wasn’t the only person you could think about, as if his name wasn’t the one you had found yourself screaming at night; it was becoming hard.
Two boring months had passed from the day you had started working for him, two boring months of taking care of his stuff and doing what you were told. Two boring months that took a turn and became two hard months when your attraction for your boss had started, two hard months that would soon become three, four, five…
Things needed to change, if you wanted to keep yourself away from any kind of heartbreak. You needed to change.
With a sigh, you unlocked your phone, letting your fingers do their work until a dating app was installed. You stared at its icon for what felt like ages, wondering whether it would be worth it or not, but eventually, you got yourself logged in.
And maybe, it was for the best.
-----
“Fuck-” you breathed out as you skimmed your way through the people crowding the streets of Chicago, some of them even wearing the Blackhawks jerseys. “I’m so late,”
You forgot to pick up his suit. His damn suit. You had been so concentrated on answering emails and getting things settled for him that the task had slipped out of your mind. The city was crowded, almost everyone seemed to be buzzed for the game, and you truly were late.
The familiar banner of the dry and clean was visible from where you were, and it took you less than a few minutes to actually reach their entrance, your breathing heavy. Your phone chimed in your hand, snapping your attention towards the message that you had received. Markus, one of the guys you had matched with on the dating app just a few weeks prior, was asking you out. If you wouldn’t have been as busy as you actually were, maybe you would have squealed in happiness, maybe you would have even called your cousin to let her know you were back in the dating scene. But you were late, your boss was waiting for you, and the text from Markus could be left on delivered for a little more.
Pushing your device inside the back pocket of your jeans, you stepped inside the warm environment of the workplace, picking up the clothing as quickly as you could before making your way back towards the mansion.
You were almost sweating when you finally closed the front door behind yourself, slipping off your coat and looking around the first story of the building for Jonathan, your mind thinking about the text from Markus. “Mr. Toews? I have the suit,”
“Upstairs!” Was all he yelled, lightly scaring you. You were hesitant to walk up the stairs. He hadn’t made it official, but it was pretty clear that he cared about his privacy, so you had taken it upon yourself to stay away from the sleeping area of the house.
You had visited that area twice: on your first day, when he had toured you around the mansion, and a week into your job, to hand him Advil after a pretty rough night at a club. Even then, you never walked past the threshold of his room, too scared to intrude.
Carefully, you started to make your way to the last floor of the house, dragging with you the suit and your nervousness. Shuffling sounds came from the end of the hallway, where the door was peeking open. The warm tones of the lights inside the master bedroom were slightly illuminating the hallway, inviting you to step closer.
“Mr. Toews?” You said, knocking lightly on the door. “I have your suit,”
He was quick to open the door completely, revealing his body to you. He had a white button-up on, his bottom being covered only by a pair of boxers. “Come in, I need your advice on something,”
Jonathan Toews was almost half-naked in front of you, showed no embarrassment from it, and you felt oh so turned on. But it was wrong, you weren’t supposed to feel that way, and that was when you made your decision. You were going on the date.
He walked towards the mirror, turning his back to you as you hesitantly stepped in. You laid the suit on his bed, keeping your eyes to the floor to avoid any kind of discomfort from his side.
“Help me choose my cufflinks?”
He was looking at you, motioning for you to go stand next to him with a small smile. When you obediently made your way towards him, he turned towards the mirror to sort out his tie. Your eyes met his quite big collection of cufflinks, everything looking so shiny and expensive. You weren’t shocked, it wasn’t a secret that you were working for a man with money, you were just surprised to see so much gold in front of your own eyes.
“I was going to go with these ones,” he mumbled, snapping you out of your thoughts and pointing towards the blue pair that was resting on the dresser. “But I’m not too sure. Choose a pair, please,”
With shaky hands, you let yourself pick the ones that had caught your attention from the start. They were golden, probably pure gold, resting cold in the palm of your hand as you inspected them. They stared back at you as the room fell silent, the only sounds coming from Jonathan, who was touching up the look of his tie.
“My grandfather’s,” you heard him say after a while, his deep voice bringing you back to reality. He was closer than you had thought, his warm palms gently holding your arms as he looked down at the pair you had chosen. “Good choice,”
Your cheeks burnt at his praise, your eyes looking up at his mirror reflection for a second. He had you flustered, and it was extremely unprofessional. Everything about your boss seemed to bring you to the edge: from the way he spoke, his voice deep and lustful, to the way his rough hands would randomly graze against yours, their touch so gentle.
“I’ll- I’ll be downstairs, I’ve got some stuff to finish,” you stuttered, biting on your lip as you started to make your way outside, stopping in your tracks when you remembered. “Oh, I had a question, sir,”
“Go on,”
“I was wondering if I could get off earlier, tomorrow night,”
“Anywhere special to be?” Jonathan asked, a smirk painting his lips as he completed the pre-game look.
“I have a date, sir,”
He tried to keep his expression as natural as possible, even though jealousy was truly burning him alive. He didn’t want to see you with someone else, someone who barely even knew you, or who barely even knew how to treat you.
He was pretty confident when it came to knowing you. Maybe the way he found out - thanks to Mike - wasn’t the best way to actually get to know you, but he knew what got you flustered, what had you weak. He knew how to make you feel that way.
How could a guy your age even know anything regarding your pleasure?
“Sir?”
“Yeah, it’s not a problem,” he mumbled - his voice fakely uninterested - ending the conversation as quickly as it started. That was your sign to leave the room, confused as to how you were supposed to feel. Happy because you were going to go on a date with Mark? Or sad because Jonathan seemed to not care at all, especially since you had thought he would, after all the teasing he had done on you?
His voice held you back one last time, making you turn around and catch his gaze in the mirror reflection. “Wish me luck?” Was all he said, making you remember just then that he had more important things to do to even care about your date.
“Good luck, Mr. Toews,”
-
Jon breathed out a long sigh as he let himself fall on one of Patrick’s couches, the glass of whiskey in his hand feeling cold against the warm skin of his palm. They had taken another loss, and that time, Jon was pretty confident when he said it was his fault.
He had tried to push you to the back of his mind, at least for one night, but it had been easier said than done. The jealousy he had felt just hours prior didn’t leave his body, and he wanted nothing more than to show you who you belonged to.
“Another fucking game, man,” Patrick scoffed, letting his body flop down next to him. “That shit gets me so pissed off,”
“Yeah, man,” was all Jonathan mumbled, putting the glass to his lip before taking a drink, the liquid burning his throat.
“How are things with your pretty girl?” Patrick changed the conversation, sending his friend a smirk as he sipped his own drink.
“What pretty girl?” Jon grumbled, looking at the whiskey in the glass with his eyebrows furrowed.
“Your PA, man,”
Jon fought the urge to roll his eyes, the look he sent his friend being enough to answer his question. “I told you, professional,”
“Come on, Jon,” Patrick chuckled. “You haven’t even given it a thought?”
Jonathan stayed silent for a few seconds, trying to gather his thoughts before actually giving his teammate an answer. Oh, he did give it a thought. Multiple times. “She’s going on a date tomorrow, that’s all you need to know,”
“And you’re jealous,”
“Am not,” Jon lied, scoffing as he downed the rest of his drink, pouring himself more.
“Then why are you telling me about this?” Patrick asked, knowing that no matter what, he was right. “Don’t act as if you haven’t been thinking about her, you’ve been weird ever since she started working for you,”
Jon clenched his jaw, his eyes directing towards the skyline of Chicago from Patrick’s windows. “Okay, yeah, maybe I am,” he admitted. “Guys her age will never be able to take care of her,”
“She obviously wanted a reaction from you, man,” Patrick rolled his eyes, so obvious in his point of view. “Why would she even tell you? You’re her boss, as you like to say,”
His thought made sense: why did you even tell him you were going on a date in the first place? “That girl got you fucked up, bud,” Patrick chuckled, shaking his head.
“Fuck, every time she calls me ‘sir’ and ‘Mr. Toews’-” Jon sighed out, rubbing his face with the palms of his hands. “I can’t resist her,”
“Then don’t,”
Sending his friend a dirty glare, he chugged another drink. “I’m serious, Toews. Just get the girl,”
“As if it’s that easy,” he mumbled under his breath, pushing his glass on the coffee table before standing up. “I’m outta here. Thanks, man, I’ll see you tomorrow,”
Heading out of the house, he wanted nothing more than to go home and get some rest. You crowded his mind even in his sleep, but he needed to get some rest and figure himself out.
He wasn’t able to resist you anymore, that he was sure of.
-----
You hadn’t been on many dates before, but it didn’t take much to understand that the one with Markus shouldn’t have even been considered a date. He had charmed you, brought you out to dinner just to get you in his bed, and even fussed when you had made it clear that you didn’t want to see him again.
You were frustrated, to say the least.
You had gotten just a few hours of sleep before having to head in for work, finding the mansion empty, no sign of Jonathan. No call from him was received, when you worked, he had shown no interest in you for the entire day.
Your cousin Laila also seemed to be missing in action: she hadn’t picked up your calls and ignored all your texts. You were pretty sure she had kept her phone off for the day.
The first sound inside the house was unexpected, it almost scared you. It was the front door closing, the sound of footsteps following soon after. You put on a smile, glancing up from your computer to see a tired-looking Jonathan entering the living area.
“Good evening, Mr. Toews,”
“Hi,” he mumbled, pushing himself towards the kitchen to grab a glass and an expensive bottle of wine.
“Can I help you with anything, sir?”
He had to hold himself back from sighing, shaking his head as he poured himself a glass. “Didn’t you have that date, last night?” Was all he asked after a while, twisting his wrist and watching the velvety liquid move around the glass.
“I did,” you sighed. “How was your day, sir?”
“I don’t want to talk about my day,” was all he said, voice stern as he sat next to you on the couch, more than curious to hear about the guy you had gone out with. “Tell me about the date,”
You held back a shocked look, letting your eyes find his for a second. “I-I don’t want to bother you, sir,”
“You’re not bothering me, sweetheart,” the pet name had you weak, your heart beating out of your chest as you struggled to breathe properly. “And please, call me Jon,”
The smile on his lips was enough to send shivers down your spine, a breathy sigh leaving your lips as you shut your laptop. The fact that Jonathan, your own boss, cared to even listen to you ranting about your date made him even hotter, from your point of view. He seemed to be the only one that wanted to hear about it, which spurred you on to actually talk to him about it.
“Well, he brought me out to dinner at this new Indian place, downtown,” you started, fidgeting with your fingers as you let your eyes stay on your lap. “He made us split the check-”
“Hang on-” he mumbled out, his hand finding your knee to stop you. “He split the check?!”
“Yeah,” was all you could whisper, gulping as you looked at his hand on your leg. With your last ounce of courage, you let your eyes focus on his.
“Tell me he at least paid for his shit,” he said, taking a sip of his drink as his hand slowly moved higher.
The shake of your head was enough to get him to groan. “He got the most expensive dish out of the menu and just split the check at the end,”
“That’s bullshit,” he scoffed, sending you a glance. “Hope you went home after that,”
You kept your mouth shut, your silence being enough to make him realize that you had done the opposite. “Y/N-”
Your name sounded so good, coming from his lips, it had you burning for him. Coming back to your senses, you kept explaining your side of the story. “Well, he mentioned going back to his place, and I needed to relieve some stress, Jon,”
“So you fucked,” he tried to keep his bitterness at bait by chugging down part of his wine. “You don’t look too relaxed, though,”
Everything seemed to spill out of you so quickly after that, especially under his gaze that left you more than submissive for him. “There was no foreplay,”
Jon rolled his eyes, hiding a cocky smirk when he realized he was more than correct, the night when you had revealed that you were going on the date: the guy didn’t know how to satisfy you.
“And, you know-” you mumbled, suddenly shy. “I wasn’t- I didn’t-”
“You didn’t cum,” he chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief as his hand slid up even more on your thigh. “It was pretty obvious,”
You looked at him, your body on fire as you tried not to concentrate too much on how his hand felt on your leg, or how much you needed him. “You know, you look cute when you get shy,” he mumbled, smirking as his thumb drew shapes on the tender skin right before your inner thigh, teasing you just right. “You’re so innocent, you don’t even know what you do to me,”
Your head rolled against the back of the couch as you bit back a moan, his eyes holding yours strictly as he let his hand inch closer to your center. “Did he have you so riled up for him?”
You breathed out a sigh, relishing in his touch as his fingers ghosted over the spot you needed him the most. He stopped, though, snapping you out of your lust-induced trance by pulling you over his lap. You were breathing harshly, your hands on his muscled chest as your noses brushed against each other. “Answer my question,” he grumbled, his hands rough on your thighs. “Did he make you feel the way that I make you feel?”
“No,”
“Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll stop,” he said, voice firm as his eyes stared deep into yours.
You finally seemed to be back to your senses partially, realizing just then how wrong everything was. But it felt so good, you needed release and Jon seemed to be the one willing to help you with that. As if it wasn’t enough, all the teasing he had done on you seemed to resurface, and it made you more than eager to let him have you.
What was happening, suddenly, didn’t feel wrong anymore. “I want it,”
That was all it took for him to let his lips meet yours in a hungry kiss, your hands subconsciously moving towards his hair, gripping it gently. His mouth ate all your moans, giving him the opportunity to slide his tongue in, leaving you even more at his mercy.
The smell of his cologne had you in a frenzy, kissing him until you were short of breath just to have him press open-mouthed kisses on your neck while you pulled apart for air. His lips were back on yours before you knew it, playing you like the finest violin as the warmth in your chest spread lower.
When his hands found your waist, pulling you even closer and helping you grind on his growing bulge, your mind started working again. It reminded you it was wrong, that Jon was just your boss and your relationship had to be strictly professional. Caving in had already been a big mistake, not stopping would have surpassed every possible line.
You scrambled away from him, pushing yourself off of his lap in a rush, feeling extremely guilty. “Y/N, come back-”
You didn’t listen to his pleas, grabbing your coat before heading out the door, your heart beating out of your chest.
You had fucked up.
-
You had almost considered calling in sick just to avoid the sight of Jonathan for a little longer. The regret was intense, and you were sure you hadn’t felt anything like that before.
You were essential to his life, though, it was something you had to face. You couldn’t stay home and avoid him, or beat yourself up for what had happened the previous night for months. It had happened, it was unprofessional, but you had to get yourself out of bed and on with your life.
The mansion was silent, when you first entered it. You found your laptop on the couch, on the same spot where you were sitting the previous night, and some of your belongings on the kitchen table.
You left a go-to cup of Jon’s hot coffee on the island, opening your computer to take another look at your boss’ schedule. After morning practice, he had to be headed towards his favorite restaurant to have lunch with his brother, and then, he had a session with his personal trainer later in the afternoon.
Just as you were thinking about the fact that you needed to go pick up a present for his mother’s birthday, you heard two pairs of footsteps coming down the stairs. Jonathan was walking behind a blonde-haired woman, his hair messy as she sported a smile.
The sight of him with another woman had you regretting your previous night's reckless decisions even more. She was pretty, he seemed happy, and you felt dumb. Dumb to even have hoped for a small moment that it might have meant something to him, dumb because you were jealous of her, even though you had been the one to run away, after getting your moment with Jon.
His eyes found yours when he finally stepped foot inside the first floor. You held back a fresh set of tears as you looked back down at the computer screen, biting on your bottom lip as you tried to zone out.
“And that’s the door,” you heard him say quickly. “Y/N, I can-”
“Call me later?” The woman interrupted him, voice as sweet as honey as he opened the door for her, trying to get her out of the house as fast as possible.
“Sure. Bye,” the door was shut loudly behind her, the echo of his footsteps impressing itself into your mind as he made his way inside the kitchen.
“Y/N, I can explain,”
“You have lunch after practice with your brother,” you said, voice monotone as you avoided eye contact with him in every possible way. “Then a session with your personal trainer at five. Want me to schedule you a call with that woman, too?”
“Listen, Y/N, she was here because after last night-”
“Last night was totally unprofessional from both of our sides,” you stated, finally sending him a sharp look. “I’d prefer if the matter won’t be discussed anymore, Jonathan,”
“Y/N-”
“Practice is in five, I’d start leaving the house, if I was you,” you mumbled. “I’ll be out to get your mother her birthday present from you,”
“Fuck, her birthday, yes,” he muttered, grabbing his keys and coat as he settled for leaving the house, knowing just how much he had fucked up. “I thought we could have gone together?”
“Your schedule is pretty packed, but I could see,”
“Please?” He asked, voice soft for the first time. You bit your lip, trying to ignore the tears that were slowly swelling up as you nodded your head. He wanted to talk, it was obvious, and you just couldn’t say no to your boss.
“Thursday afternoon,”
“Thank you,” he sighed out, grabbing his cup of coffee before leaving the house, his mind elsewhere. “I’ll see you later,”
As soon as the door closed behind him, you let the tears fall. As much as you wanted to put up a tough facade, you had been broken, and you felt like your whole world had been dropped. You felt confused, heartbroken, jealous.
You pressed on Laila’s contact, sniffling when she picked up. “Y/N?”
“Oh, Laila,” you sobbed, even surprising yourself. “Why am I so stupid?”
She was confused, to say the least. You hadn’t called her in tears for what felt like ages; hell, work had gotten you so busy you hadn’t called her for months. Everything had come out of your mouth so quickly it had you shocked: you explained to her the teasing, the famous night, and just what had happened minutes prior, tears streaming down your face as if you’d never experienced heartbreak before.
The fact that you even felt heartbroken from your boss, Jonathan Toews, felt unreal. You had pushed your feelings for him aside for so long that you weren’t expecting to feel that hurt over something so small. You were shocking your own self.
“Why am I even crying over him, Lai?” You sniffled, wiping the leftover tears on your cheeks with the back of your hands.
“You clearly have feelings for him, Y/N,”
You closed your mouth shut at her words, shock evident in your voice as you stuttered. “But I barely even know him!”
“I don’t know, Y/N,” Silence came from Laila’s line, a long sigh could only be heard as the two of you stopped talking. “This might sound so cheesy, but listen to your heart, Y/N,”
You sniffled at her words, still unsure of everything going on in your life as your heart still felt quite broken even after venting to your cousin. You needed time to figure things out, time to think.
And time was what you gave yourself.
-----
“Hey, thanks for coming,” Jonathan greeted you softly, his eyes finding yours when you stopped in front of him. “I’m not the greatest at gifts,”
You giggled, shaking your head as you mindlessly let your hand grasp his forearm, sending shivers down his spine. “Of course, Jon,”
“I uh- I got the car out,” he pointed towards his Tesla, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “I know you prefer walking, but I exaggerated at the gym earlier and my legs are pretty sore,”
“It’s fine,” you reassured him, his softness making your heartbeat quicken. “Shall we go?”
As if you had snapped him out of his thoughts, he nodded his head, leading you towards the vehicle and opening the passenger door for you. The car was fancy, but you weren’t expecting anything else from him. He was Jonathan Toews, his wristwatch probably cost more than your old college tuition.
You small talked until you reached your destination, the large mall just out of town that hosted the most expensive stores, the ones you were so used to admiring from the distance. You slipped out of the car on your own, looking at the building with a small ounce of anxiousness as you waited for Jon to reach your side.
“You ready?”
You turned around to face him, nodding your head sharply as you tried not to get lost in his wide smile. “Thought you wanted to stay there and gaze at the mall for the rest of the afternoon,”
“No,” you giggled, starting to walk just when his hand slipped on your lower waist, nudging you. Your heart was fluttering, his touch so gentle against your skin as he helped you towards the door. Why did it feel so good when he touched you? You were supposed to hate him, to be disappointed in him; yet, you couldn’t pull away, keep a safe distance between the two of you. It was as if you were magnets, the attraction too much to actually let go.
Snapping out of your trance, you remembered just why you were there, with him, and what you needed to do. “Uh- have you been thinking about anything?”
“Jewelry,” was all he suggested, his hand dropping back to its place next to his waist when you walked inside the large main hall. “She doesn’t wear it too often, but she secretly loves it,”
“Okay,” you nodded your head. “Any store in mind?”
“There should be one just around the corner,” he mumbled, directing you around the quite empty mall with large strides. He was right, one of the largest jewelry you had ever seen was right in front of your eyes, the prettiest diamonds being exposed right next to rings and earrings.
“Woah,”
“I know,” was all Jonathan mumbled, dragging you along with him inside the store. You had an employee at your side the moment you walked in, her eyes barely even acknowledging you as she started blabbering about the shop and what they sold, entirely focused on your boss.
“We’re here for a gift, but I think we won’t have trouble looking on our own,” Jon politely said, sending the woman a small smile just as he pulled you close to his side by your waist, making you repress a gasp. The woman left soon after, giving you a once-over right before she went back to walking around the store in search of people to help.
You were struggling to breathe when he released your body, his eyes going to the jewels behind the displays as he kept you close. “I’m sorry about that. She was making me uncomfortable,”
“It’s okay,” was all you were able to mumble, following his gaze on a necklace. “Is she one for necklaces?”
“Not really,”
“Maybe earrings?”
“Yeah, she wears those often,” Jon nodded his head, searching for the displayer with the earrings. “I want something she could wear every day, though,”
“Something simple,” you hummed, your eyes raking around the various pairs of earrings. You came across a pair that looked like white gold in the shape of a flower, tempested with small, white diamonds.
You carefully pointed towards them, your fingers catching Jon’s attention. “Those look pretty,” he mumbled as he called over another shop assistant. “Could we get these out? I want to see them closer,”
The pair was in front of your eyes before you knew it, shining under the warm lights of the store. You had to refrain yourself from letting your eyes widen at the price tag, deciding to let them focus on Jonathan’s expression. “What do you think about them?”
“I think they might be too big to be casual,” was all he mumbled, glancing towards the displayer again to search for something else. “I was also thinking about a bracelet, you know?”
“I’ll go take a look at some of those for you,” you whispered, smiling his way before moving towards the other side of the store, where the bracelets were located. The diamonds and pearls were all staring back at you, begging to be bought as you talked lightly with the shopping assistant.
You didn’t even realize you had been stuck on one specific item until the lady helping you caught your attention. “That’s a Cartier,” she smiled your way. “Simple but classy, they’ve been selling pretty quickly,”
“It’s really beautiful,” you whispered, batting your lashes a few times to push yourself out of your daydream before focusing on the rest of the collections. You were pretty sure Jonathan would like the bracelet you picked out: a small, golden chain with a charm that represented family, also stutted with diamonds.
“Found anything interesting?”
You jumped when you heard Jon’s voice from behind you, his palm finding its place on your smaller back again as he stood by your side. “Thoughts on this one? The charm represents family,”
Jonathan was gentle as he lifted up the jewel, looking at it attentively before smiling your way. “I think we found the one,”
With a smile, you went to take a look at the earrings he had chosen, leaving Jonathan on his own in front of the bracelets. “We’re getting that one,” he mumbled to the shopping assistant, pointing towards the present for his mother. “Was she looking at anything else when she was alone?”
“The young woman?”
Jonathan nodded, hoping the employee could help him out in some ways. He had felt the urge to buy you something from the moment he first saw your eyes sparkle at the sight of the jewels. He knew it was wrong, but he felt like he might have needed it someday: maybe as an apology, or maybe as just a present.
“She was looking at this one,” the woman said, nonchalantly taking out of its displayer the Cartier rose gold bracelet you had been gazing at for minutes.
Just the best way to spoil his girl, he thought. “Add it to the rest, please. And don’t use a separate bag for it,”
“Of course, sir,” the woman smiled, leading him towards the checkout. “I’m sure she’ll love it,”
The two of you left the store soon after he swiped his credit card, heading towards the parking lot in silence. Your time together had come to an end, and you felt weird when the thought of missing him even crossed your mind. He had shown you softness, even regret, throughout the afternoon, and you realized you had gotten to know another part of him. The sensitive part, the part that was in some way asking you to give him another chance.
“I know I fucked up the other day,” Jonathan said when he started the car, the flashbacks of him walking the woman out rising back to life inside your brain. “And I know that you don’t want to talk about it anymore, but I owe you an apology,”
You sighed, running a hand through your hair as he kept driving, the city running past your eyes. He was willing to admit his mistakes, but were you going to let him back into your heart?
“Okay,”
He seemed surprised when you answered, but snapped back to reality quickly. “Take a day off, tomorrow,” he said, his eyes finding yours quickly before directing them back to the streets.
“But you have the game, Jon,”
“I want you to come to the game, have some fun,” he said, words authoritative as he kept his eyes trained on the road, your panties dampening just at the tone of his voice. “And then go out for drinks with me after it,”
That was anything but professional, if you thought about it, but was your heart going to stop you? There was nothing holding you back anymore. You took a fast glance at his face, not realizing he had caught you until his eyes met with yours. “Y/N?”
“Okay,”
You suppressed a smile as he drove towards your apartment complex, playing with your fingers in your lap as you tried to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. Your usual Friday night was going to take a turn: you weren’t going to watch Jonathan play behind the screen of your TV anymore, and you weren’t going to daydream about him before falling asleep.
Friday night was going to be different, and you knew it.
-----
Friday was calm. The sun was warm on your skin as you read a book on your couch, thankful for a morning off and some time to figure your life out. It had taken you a while to realize just how much you had been ignoring your own mental health, how you really felt, and your day off seemed to be just the perfect way to understand yourself better.
It felt confusing, if you had to be honest. Your heart was more than ready to give itself entirely to Jonathan: to give him your all, to wake up in the morning next to him, to make memories together. Your brain, though, made you feel like it was wrong, almost dirty.
You wanted the two of them to find a solution to all their divergences, to make it easier for you. You couldn’t bear the confusion anymore, staying away from Jon was already hard enough.
Laila’s words replayed themselves in your mind while you took a shower, rinsing the shampoo from your hair. What if you really had feelings for him, though? The way your heartbeat quickened every time he said your name was almost enough to answer your question; the butterflies dancing in your stomach every time you’d feel his touch were so evident you almost laughed at yourself for not realizing it sooner.
The sexual tension, at the same time, was something you clearly couldn’t ignore. You were so sure that it was what it had made you attracted to him in the first place, the warm feeling deep in your stomach, or just the way you were burning for him.
By the time evening rolled around, you felt nervous. You were worried you were dressed correctly for the game, but totally underdressed for drinks; you were worried you were going to make a fool out of yourself, as always, or that you were going to embarrass him.
The doorbell was enough to snap you out of your trance, making you grab your coat and purse in a rush before leaving the apartment building, only to be faced with a black car and a man in a suit. A driver?
“Good evening, Miss Y/L/N,” was all the man said, opening the door for the backseat for you in a quick second. “Mr. Toews wasn’t able to drive you, so I’m here to pick you up,”
“Thank you,” you said, holding back the last remnants of shock in you as you slid inside the car. The lights of the city moved past you as you were driven towards the arena in silence, the city looking busy as red and white jerseys packed the sidewalks.
You felt like you were in a movie. Never in your life had you thought you would have been in the backseat of an expensive car, a driver sent by your boss chaperoning you towards the destination.
“Miss, this is your ticket,”
The car had stopped, and you had realized just then that you had reached the arena, your heart starting to leap out of your chest. “Could I stay here a little more?” You asked, voice small as you hoped for a ‘yes’, suddenly overwhelmed with what was going to happen throughout the night.
“Of course, miss,” the man smiled, almost as if he wanted to reassure you everything was going to be okay, like a guardian angel.
Jonathan wanted to apologize to you, that was what was going to happen, nothing more. What were you even worrying about? Pushing all your worries aside, you grabbed your ticket and thanked the driver, following the mass of people towards the entrance of the arena.
You heard multiple excited conversations about the game, both from Blackhawks fans and from Sabres fans. You felt slightly out of place in the crowd of people dressed in red, already holding beers in their hands as they talked, even chanted their team’s name.
You found out just after getting inside the building that you were reserved a spot with the team’s close family members, a lot calmer than the spots near the rink itself. When you walked inside the room, you were met with who you could only guess were some of the player’s parents, but a group of younger women was by far taking over the room.
They were all sporting the team’s jersey, the players’ last names on their backs never repeating on the other girls’ shirts. You silently took a seat, noticing you had the best view of the rink, from the highest spot of the building.
“Newbie?”
Your head snapped to the side to meet with a girl slightly older than you, a smile on her face as she sat next to you. “What?” You asked, slightly confused at her word.
“I’ve never seen you around here before,” she explained. “I’m Amanda, Kane’s girlfriend,”
“Oh, I’m- I’m Y/N, I work for Toews,”
“Oh, so you are new here,” she giggled, shaking your hand softly. “I’ve heard about you,”
“You did?” You asked, holding back a giggle.
“I’ve heard Jon talk about you many times,” Amanda confessed, your heart fluttering at what she said. Jonathan talked about you? “You know, other girlfriends and I are just sticking together for the game. Do you want to join us?”
The offer was given to you quickly, you weren’t even able to process the fact that Jonathan’s friends knew about you, in some kind of way. You were a total stranger to them, and yet, they knew you, they wanted you to join them. “That would be awesome,” you smiled her way. “Thank you,”
When she went back to the group, you glanced down at your phone, sending Jonathan a quick text before, eventually, joining your new companions.
Good luck, Jon :)
-
“Honestly, I’m so happy they won,” Amanda mumbled, looking over the few people in the hallway right before the changing room to see if the team was going to come out soon. “They really deserved it,”
A few noises of agreement came from the rest of the WAGs, the girls you had joined just a few hours prior. “What are your plans tonight, ladies?”
Most of the girls talked about going home, relaxing with their significant other, and enjoying the night; one of the wives mumbled about leaving for a small trip right after being done at the rink, and somebody else talked about going to a club. When you were asked, your cheeks heated up.
“We’re going out for drinks,” you mumbled, nervously playing with your fingers as most of the girls smiled your way.
“And you’re just working for him? Girl, don’t lie to us,” Becca, another girl, pushed your shoulder jokingly.
“What are you ladies mumbling about?” Patrick walked towards your group, wrapping an arm around Amanda’s waist as she giggled. His eyes found yours in a second, scanning your face as a smirk planted itself on his lips. “You’re Y/N, right? Nice to meet you,”
“Hi,” you smiled, your attention quickly snapping towards someone else when a familiar hand settled itself on your smaller back.
“Hey,” Jon said, propping his bag up his shoulder as he looked down at you. “Good evening, ladies,”
The girls barely even answered, too busy with greeting their husbands and boyfriends and congratulating them to actually acknowledge the captain. “Did you have fun?” He asked, his thumb drawing small circles on your back, your stomach filling with butterflies all over again.
“Of course I did,” you smiled.
“You busy tonight, Jon?” Patrick asked, snapping the two of you out of your trance. “Drinks at mine?”
“We’re going out,” Jonathan stated, looking at his teammate with a smile. “Next time, I promise,”
You still couldn’t contain the giddy feeling whenever he referred to the two of you as ‘we’, it was something that had always made you so smitten.
“It’s fine, man. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Patrick winked, leaving you just enough time to say goodbye to Amanda before the two were off on their own.
“Shall we go?” Jon asked, his eyes focused on yours as the hallway cleared out around you. With a nod of your head, the two of you were headed off towards his car, reaching in just a few minutes a fancy bar.
The lights inside were dim, and it wasn’t the usual kind of bar filled with bodies and loud music. There were tables, just a few of them occupied by people enjoying their drinks in silence as soft jazz music set the vibe. It was cozy, in some kind of way, even if the place was extremely out of your reach.
A table was reserved for you near one of the ample windows facing a rainy Chicago, the warmth inside the room making you breathe out a sigh of relief. “I like this place,” you said, looking around the room with a smile on your face.
“I’ve been coming here for years, now,” Jon admitted, taking a seat in front of you. “I don’t like normal bars too much, they’re too messy,”
“This place represents you, in some way,” you mumbled, your eyes finding his.
“I guess it does,” was all he mumbled before ordering your drinks, voice firm as he talked to the waitress. You were sure he couldn’t see the way she was looking at him, heart-eyed as she scribbled down the drinks as best as she could, it was almost funny.
When she left you to yourselves, silence built between you. You were more than nervous, to say the least, and he seemed to be in his thoughts, in his own world. He clearly was snapped out of his trance when your drinks were slipped in front of you.
“Y/N, I just wanted to apologize for everything,” he spoke, looking at the liquid inside his glass quickly before letting his eyes meet yours. “I never thought things would go like that, I even tried to hold myself back, but I didn’t make it,”
“It’s okay, Jon,” you whispered, playing with the rim of your glass as you tried to find some words to say. “I have to apologize too, what I did was anything but professional,”
“Y/N, it’s not your fault,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked at you. “If it wasn’t for me, things would have been normal, now,”
You stared at him for a moment, his dark eyes holding yours as you tried to not mutter out what you had been thinking about for ages, your body shaking in anticipation as you played with your fingers.
“I don’t want them to be normal, though,” you whispered with your last ounce of courage, shocking your own self as you bit on your lip. He looked at you in silence, making it hard for you to understand what he was feeling. “I wish you knew how I feel whenever you touch me, or when you say my name, Jon,”
There was a beat before he spoke, his voice firm after taking a sip of his drink. “Tell me what you want, Y/N,”
“I want you to make me yours, even if it’s just for one night,” you breathed out, holding eye contact as you said your next words. “Even if it might not work,”
He adjusted himself on his chair, biting on his bottom lip as his pupils dilated, giving you a once over. “Don’t play with fire, sweetheart,”
“Am not,” your voice was coated with lust as his hand traveled up your thigh with anything but hesitance. “You can take me home if you want me, Captain,”
He held your eyes for another moment, downing his whiskey before standing up, dropping a bill on the table. “Stand up,” was all he said, voice dark as he looked down at you. You fell into your submissive character as soon as his voice became authoritative, automatically jumping to your feet and following him out of the bar, the cold rain falling on your face.
The drive was silent, filled with tension as Jonathan went over the speed limit, the streets empty. His hand was on your thigh, too close to your center to even make you think straight. Everything was going too fast, but you didn’t care anymore.
Were the few sips of alcohol making you intoxicated, or was it Jon? Was it the strong scent of his cologne, the touch of his hand on your skin, his dark eyes?
His grip on your thigh tightened when he parked the car inside his garage, his eyes meeting yours for a long moment before he finally leaned in, over the console, and kissed you.
His lips were softer than you could remember, but there wasn’t anything soft about the way he was kissing you, grabbing you to pull you over his lap. You were eager to see where things were going to head, curious to explore more of him, and he was feeling the same way.
As his tongue caressed yours, his hands found their way towards your ass, pushing your center even closer to his growing bulge. You bit his bottom lip to suppress a moan, your hands dropping to his chest to undo his already messy tie.
He pulled away to breathe in some air, his lips ghosting over the skin of your neck as he grazed your throat with his teeth, shivers running down your spine. “Jon-”
“Say my name, sweetheart,” he said, voice dark as he threw his undone tie in the backseat. His hand dipped inside your jeans, tracing over your panties as he kept eye contact. “Tell the world who makes you feel good,”
“Jon-” you moaned again, head thrown back as he grasped your neck to pull you closer again, letting his lips find yours for another heated kiss, his hips bucking up to meet yours.
“Let’s head inside, baby,” was all he grumbled against your lips, hands on your thighs as he opened the car door. You whined, not wanting the moment to end, which made his voice darken even more. “Don’t be a brat. I’m not fucking you in my car on our first time. I’m better than that,”
You had to hold back a moan as he carefully exited the car, holding your body in his arms as he expertly walked towards the elevator, his mouth on yours. You were so lost in him you barely even registered your back hitting his comforter a few minutes later, his body hovering over yours as he wrapped your legs around his waist.
“You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to have you like this,” he grumbled in your ear, breathing heavily as he pushed your shirt over your head, your bra following along. “Under me, at my mercy,”
His words, followed by his lips on your breasts, made the coil inside your stomach tighten. He felt so close, so real. You realized you weren’t on your own, in your room late at night, taking care of all the pent-up tension anymore. Jonathan Toews - the man who had been the center of your world for months, the man who had kept you up at night ever since he had first laid eyes on you - was on top of you, finally giving life to every fantasy of yours, and probably also of his.
His touch wasn’t as soft as it used to be anymore, his hands roughly moving from your sides to the button of your jeans, opening it in a rush as his lips found your skin again. His fingers ghosted over your heat, making you moan out a curse.
“Jon, don’t stop,” you breathed out, his lips kissing their way down to your navel. He was faced with your heat in a second, his hands pushing your underwear down your legs. You had to suppress a whine when the cold air of his room hit your heated core, your walls contracting around nothing as he let the pad of his index finger trace your slit.
“Look at you,” he whispered, licking his lips as he watched you quiver under his mere touch. “So drenched for me,”
He placed kisses on your inner thighs, teasing you just right as you whimpered under his touch, your fingers grasping his hair just when he finally let his mouth find your center. He was eager to learn what ticked you off, what made you feel good, what you needed to come off the edge. He had wanted to know for so long.
Jonathan sucked your clit in his mouth, the strangled moan that left your lips being enough to make his pants tighten even more. His tongue slid down to your entrance, his strong arms holding your waist down when you tried to follow his movements, to get some relief.
“Don’t make me tie you down, sweetheart,” was all he said, voice deep as his eyes bore deep into yours, sending you into a state of submission. When he dipped down again, he kept eye contact, his humming against your heat almost bringing you over the edge.
His tongue was making you feel stars, touching places you didn’t even know could make you feel so weak. He knew what he was doing, and he took pride in it. By the time one of his fingers slid inside of you, you were a moaning mess, everything inside your body screaming at you to let go.
Jon was attentive, keeping his eyes on you to see just how good he was making you feel, just how easily he could work you over the edge. But, just as you were about to give in and let the orgasm take over you, he stopped his movements, his lips kissing their way up your body again.
“Want to take it slow,” he whispered in your ear teasingly, biting your lobe and letting you know you weren’t going to leave the bed anytime soon. His mouth was on yours again, your taste on his lips making you moan.
Your hands were quick at undoing the buttons of his white, neatly ironed, shirt; your fingers didn’t hesitate when they touched the newfound skin of his chest, so warm and soft it made you melt.
His pants were off in a second, thrown in a corner of the room as his lips stayed on yours. You didn’t think you’d be able to separate after the night, after finally giving in and letting yourselves get close.
You were eagerly palming his cock over his boxers, ready to push yourself to your knees and give him what he had been thinking about for months. His hand gripped your wrists tightly just when you were about to push his undergarments down his thighs, your eyes snapping up to his when he shook his head. “Tonight’s about you, sweet girl,” he whispered, letting his free hand card through your already messy hair before giving it a firm tug. “On your hands and knees,”
His authoritative voice had always made you oh so desperate for him, and that time, it wasn’t any different. You were positioned in the middle of the bed as quickly as you could, your ass up in the air as he explored your body with his eyes.
“So pretty for me,” he muttered, discarding his boxers before making his way towards you. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer to him as he leaned down to kiss your spine. “Beg for it, baby girl,”
“Please, Jon-” you whined, burying your face in his pillows, completely at his mercy. “Please, fuck me,”
The chuckle that left his body was enough to make you clench around air again, the shameless moan that exited your mouth getting muffled by the soft material of his pillows. “So desperate,” he unexpectedly slid his length inside of you, the stretch making chills run down your spine as a string of curses left his lips.
“Fuck- so tight for me, sweetheart,” he breathed out, his hips stuttering for a quick second before he started to thrust into you, the sound of his hips smacking against your ass harshly filling the room.
His thrusts were quick, his skin slapping against yours rhythmically as you moaned loudly. One of his hands gripped your hair, pulling your head away from his pillows, the sting of his pulling sending pleasure to your clit.
“I want to hear every single moan,” he grumbled in your ear, his punishing pace sending you into subspace as your high neared again, your legs struggling to keep the rest of your body up. He could feel your walls constricting around him, making his own pleasure even more evident as he tried to keep his cool.
Your moans became louder again when you started to tip over the edge, but you were denied your orgasm again when Jon pulled his cock out of you, gently handling you around.
You found yourself on your back, legs spread for him as he tapped his cock against your overstimulated entrance, a smirk on his face as he entered you again. “Want you to look at me when I make you cum, sweetheart,”
His words had you whimpering, your eyes closing as he moved inside of you, the new angle making you feel even better. His hand slipped down your body, reaching your clit and teasing it as he kept his bruising pace.
“Jon- Jon I’m going to cum,” you breathed out, your legs wrapping around his middle as they slightly shook, holding him closer to you.
“Look at me,” he said, his fingers on your clit speeding up. “I said, look at me, Y/N,”
You let your eyes meet his as your orgasm made your body shake, a shout of his name leaving your mouth as your walls convulsed around his cock. You were breathing harshly as he helped you ride your high, his hips snapping quickly against yours as he held back groans.
He pulled out quickly, coming all over your stomach with a loud groan as you tried to gain back your breathing, your eyes struggling to stay open. The room sat in silence as he left the bed, only to come back a few minutes later to clean you up.
He took care of the cum on your stomach, gently cleaning it with a wet towel before going back to his position between your thighs. “You did so good for me, tonight,” he whispered, hushing your whines when the towel touched your sensitive skin. “Such a good girl,”
“I probably should go,” you mumbled sleepily, trying to push yourself out of his bed only to be interrupted by his voice.
“Stay the night, Y/N. Please,”
“Jon-”
“Please,” he repeated, taking a seat next to your laying body on his bed. His eyes were scanning your face for any kind of discomfort as he let his hand card through your hair, the moment of softness making butterflies erupt in your stomach.
As you looked up at him, you found yourself realizing just where you were, just where you were laying. Your eyes really met his bedroom for the first time at that moment, noticing every single small piece of him that was resting inside the place that he found most personal, the place he barely let people in.
He was sharing it with you, the part of him that most people barely even knew.
He slid with you under the covers, pulling your body close to his as his eyes found yours. He pushed a strand of stray hair away from your face, his other hand drawing shapes on your smaller back.
“What are we doing, Jon?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart,” he whispered, his hand cupping your cheek as he sighed out. Silence settled between you as you tried to figure out what was happening between the two of you, if your relationship had changed, but his voice filled the room again. “You know, I was in need of release after you ran away, that night,” he mumbled, his fingers toying with the ends of your curls. “There wasn’t a moment where I wasn’t thinking about you, when I was with that girl. It was a mistake-”
“Jon, please, stop it,” you whispered, looking up at him with a small smile. “I accept your apology,”
Your words seemed to put him at peace, at least for the night, and he pulled you even closer. “Get some rest, we’ll talk in the morning,” he whispered, tenderly kissing the top of your head as you cuddled on his side. Your body was tired, but your heart was beating quickly against your ribcage at how your night had ended.
Not only did you have the best sex of your life with the man you had been wishing for ever since day one, but you also found yourself cuddling by his side, his warm body pressed against yours. The question that left your lips was slurred by sleep, but you needed to know, you needed to know if it wasn’t going to end just so soon.
“Will you be there when I wake up?”
There was a beat after you said your words, his hand carding your hair one more time as he smiled.
“Of course I will,”
-
“Good morning,”
The whispered greeting had you slowly waking up, the warmth of Jon’s body close to yours making you breathe out a sigh of fondness. “Hey,”
“How did you sleep?” the man beside you asked, voice still sleepy as he played with your bed hair. You had to repress a giggle at his question, hiding your face in his chest as you mumbled out your answer.
“Like a baby,”
He chuckled, wrapping an arm around you as the other held his phone, his eyes focused on the screen. “Plans for the day?”
“You have to meet up with your coach this afternoon,” you said, your fingers drawing shapes on his naked chest. “What time is it?”
“Nine,”
“Jon, you’re late to practice,” you scolded him with a sigh, rolling your eyes when he shrugged.
“Everybody needs a day off,” he said, making a chuckle leave your mouth. “I’ll go grab us breakfast, don’t fall back asleep without me,”
A peck was placed on your lips as Jon left the bed, your body missing his warmth after just a few seconds of being apart. You looked at the ceiling as you took in the events of the previous night, well-accustomed to the butterflies in your stomach.
You had to refrain yourself from clenching your legs at the flashbacks from the late-night activities, instead biting on your bottom lip as you remembered just how good it felt to be touched by Jonathan.
His hands on your skin, his mouth on your body, his eyes locked with yours.
You weren’t ready to leave him, though. You weren’t ready to forget about the night the two of you had spent together, to name it ‘just a one-night stand’. You wanted to wake up every morning next to him, to scold him when he was late, to spend endless nights talking about your lives after some good sex, and to be his. That was what you wanted.
You settled on getting ready as best as you could, taking a quick shower and throwing on his discarded button-up from the previous night, his cologne invading your nostrils as soon as the expensive material slid over your skin.
You heard the front door shutting after you had just made yourself comfortable in the kitchen, your laptop opened in front of your eyes as Jonathan put the coffees on the table. “Got bagels. Is it okay?”
“More than okay,” you smiled, your eyes meeting his as you took a sip from your cup. “I hope me taking a quick shower wasn’t a problem,”
“Not at all,” he smiled, seemingly noticing your outfit just then, as he leaned against the kitchen counter while he took a bite of his food. His eyes roamed your figure for a long while, your cheeks becoming quite heated as you kept your gaze on your computer screen. “You look good in my clothes,”
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t find my clothes from last night,” you whispered, biting on your lip as you avoided his eye contact.
“That shirt looks better on you anyway,” he mumbled, wrapping his arms around your waist as he peeked at your laptop. “What do you have to do, today?”
“Just picking up some clothes at the dry and clean,” you mumbled, taking a bite out of your bagel. “Oh, I also need to pick up some packages,”
“I’ll come with you,” he mumbled, letting his hands squeeze your waist quickly before going back to stand against the kitchen counter. Your heart was beating against your ribcage as you tried to act unbothered, one of your hands running through your hair.
“You have other stuff to do, Jon,” you sighed, turning around to face him.
“Don’t care,” he smirked, his thumb and index finger grabbing your chin to make you look up at him. His lips ghosted over yours teasingly as you struggled to breathe, the warmth in your stomach invading your entire body. “The world can wait a little more,”
-----
Huffing as you walked around the halls of the United Center, you were trying to hold all your stress under control. It was a stressful day for Jon and you, probably the most stressful day the two of you had ever had, and things had been going okay.
Well, they had been going okay until Jonathan was nowhere to be seen after morning practice, your busy schedule being put on hold as you scanned through every room inside the building anxiously.
He had a meeting, a very important one, in fact. Coaches, PR teams and the most important people of the Blackhawks were all finding themselves in one room to discuss important business, and the captain just couldn’t be late.
His coach had mumbled something about him being extremely distracted during the previous weeks, his head going elsewhere whenever it was possible, and it didn’t take a while for you to realize it was because of you.
It had been a few weeks ever since the night, and you were confused, to say the least. You felt as if you had gone back in time, when all the two of you could share was teasing touches, deep eye contact, and sexual tension. Why were you two playing hard to get?
The large doors of the dressing room snapped you out of your thoughts, your heart hammering against your chest as you wondered whether it was a good idea or not to actually search for him inside. It probably was an invasion of privacy, right?
You almost squealed in fear when the doors opened, revealing one of Jon’s teammates, a beaten-up look on his face as his eyes met yours. “Can I help you?”
“I, uh- is Jonathan in there?” You asked nervously, sighing in relief when the younger guy nodded his head absentmindedly. “Thank you,”
He muttered something under his breath as he walked away, leaving you to open the doors to the changing room in silence. You were faced with emptiness, just the faint sounds of shuffling entering your ears as you looked around the room.
“Jonathan?”
“Ah, just who I wanted to see,”
His face sported a smirk when he walked towards the main hall of the room, dressed in only one of his extremely tight thermal shirts and a pair of boxers. He was hot, and he knew it; hell, he even took pride in it, you were sure.
“Missed you, sweetheart,” he mumbled, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you close to his body. You seemed to snap back to your thoughts - too busy admiring his Adonis-like body - just then, looking up at him with a stern look.
“Jonathan, you’ve got a meeting to attend,” you said, pushing against his chest to get him away from you. “And you’re so fucking late for it,”
“You’re hot when you’re pissed off,” he mumbled, dipping his head to your shoulder to press a line of kisses over your blouse, his fingers playing with the hem of your skirt. “Everyone was looking at your ass, sweetheart. Did you know that?”
You closed your eyes as his kisses trailed up your neck, reaching your sweet spot in just a few seconds. You felt in heaven, so deeply pushed into a lust-filled trance by just his mouth as you forgot what was happening outside, what you needed to do. “Had to kick all their asses to get their eyes off of you,”
His possessiveness was sending jolts to your core, his touch so teasing yet so pleasurable as he pressed another coat of kisses down your neck. His hands slid to your ass as he let his body drop down on one of the benches, your legs straddling his waist.
“Jonathan, the meeting starts in ten minutes and you don’t even have a suit on,” you scolded him as best as you could, his fingers undoing the first few buttons of your shirt.
“Just enough time to fuck you,” he whispered against your lips, his mouth on yours a second later as his hands were already pushing your underwear to the side to tease your drenched center. “So wet for me this early in the morning, baby girl?”
You let out a shaky moan as his thumb played with your clit, the pleasure too strong to pull yourself away from him. “We’ve got to be quick, Jon,” Your hands dropped to his bulge, pushing his boxers out of the way as he aligned his cock with your entrance, ignoring your sentence.
“So needy for me,” he muttered, his cock sliding against your walls smoothly as you moaned out his name, your hands tightly gripping his shoulders. To say you were a little surprised to have sex with him for the second time inside the United Center’s dressing room was an understatement, but everything felt just too good to make it end.
“Here we go, sweetheart,” he whispered, nipping on your earlobe as his hands helped you rock your hips against his, a sharp moan leaving your lips at the stretch. A few groans left his mouth when you picked up the pace, one of his hands dropping to your clit as he relished in the pleasure.
“Jon-” you moaned, your head lulling back as he kissed your neck, his teeth leaving a love bite on your skin. He knew it was something he shouldn’t have done, that marking was for kids, but he wanted the world to know you were his, even if he didn’t have the balls to make you his.
He seemed to be pushed in a trance as you speeded up even more, trying to chase your high and bring him to his as quickly as possible, time clicking. “I’m gonna cum,” you whispered, hiding your face in the crook of his neck as the pleasure became too much.
“Cum for me, sweetheart,” he spoke, voice sweet as he let his lips find yours again. “Milk my cock, baby,”
Your eyes locked with his as you came, mouth opened in a silent moan as your cunt clenched around his length, bringing him unbelievably close to his orgasm. You kept moving on top of him as best as you could, your sensitive pussy making you whine.
“I gotta cum, sweetheart,” he groaned in your ear, subtly telling you he needed to pull out. Your cheeks, as heated as they already were, seemed to burn even more as you whispered your next words, hiding your face from him.
“I’m on the pill,”
“Fuck- shit-” he muttered under his breath, the thought of being able to cum inside of you sending him over the edge, his abs clenching as he released against your walls. You caught your breaths together, his forehead leaning against yours after he pecked your lips gently.
Your eyes dropped to your watch, noticing you had just a few minutes before the start of the meeting, another curse leaving your lips. “Jon, you better get yourself ready,” you said, pulling yourself away from his body to fix yourself up.
You were hoping it wasn’t too evident that you had just fucked with your boss inside the dressing rooms as you made your way towards the doors, ready to leave.
“Y/N?”
You turned around to face Jonathan, who was messily trying to put on the tailored suit you loved on him. “What?”
There was a beat of silence as he pulled on his slacks, sending you a quick look. “The team is hosting this gala, next weekend,” he mumbled, cheeks rosy as he avoided your eye contact. “I was wondering if you wanted to come along?”
“Are you asking me out, Jon?” You giggled, biting on your bottom lip.
“I’m trying to,” he huffed. “You obviously don’t have to, if you-”
“Yes,”
“What?”
“Yes, I’ll be your date,” you giggled, tugging him close to you by the collar of his shirt to kiss him, your body relaxing against his. When you pulled back, a smile was resting on his lips, your heart beating out of your chest. “Now, get ready. There’s a meeting we have to be at,”
-----
You were so fucked.
The Cartier bracelet was on your wrist, shining under the lights of your apartment as you touched up your makeup, stomach churning nervously. You had come home to a couple of boxes on your bed, well-known names printed on top of them, and you were shocked, to say the least.
The material of your dress - a classy, black cocktail dress - was soft against your skin, and you were trying to refrain yourself from looking it up and check the price tag. The bracelet had been your breaking point, your eyes tearing up at the sight of the rose gold accessory you had found yourself admiring more than a month prior.
It felt strange to get spoiled by someone, you were going to be honest.
You heard the faint knock just as you were slipping on a dark pair of stilettos, your lips pulling into a smile as you opened the door, your eyes falling onto your date. He seemed speechless as he gave your body a once-over, his eyes softening at your smile.
“You look stunning, sweetheart,” he said, voice gentle as he tried to tear his eyes off of you. His hand slipped into yours, pushing it up to his lips to leave a lingering kiss on your skin, his eyes finding just later the bracelet he had given you.
“Thank you, Jon,” you whispered, cheeks heating up at his comment. He was looking better than ever in his all-black suit, matching your outfit perfectly, and it was hard for you to keep the butterflies in your stomach at bait.
“We should head out, I know you hate being late,” Jon mumbled, his eyes still not leaving you as you locked the front door behind yourself, his body close to yours. He led you out of the building with a gentle arm around your waist, nothing but warmth filling your chest as he helped you inside the car.
You were in silence as the driver moved the car around the city, directed towards the venue, Jon’s hand staying firmly on your thigh. You had so much on your mind, so much keeping you in your thoughts, and Jon seemed to notice.
“What’s happening in that pretty head of yours, darling?” He whispered, the palm on your thigh moving to grasp your hand.
“You- you bought me all this stuff and-”
“This is my way of saying thank you,” he whispered, smiling your way as the car came to a halt. “I actually bought the Cartier when we were shopping for my mom’s presents,”
Your eyebrows scrunched as you chuckled, giving him a shocked look as he helped you out of the vehicle. “Really?”
“Yeah,”
“You never told me if your mother liked the gifts,” you whispered as the two of you walked inside the venue, your arms linked together as people smiled your way.
“She did,” he stated, greeting one of his teammates with a nod of his head. “She loved the bracelet more than I thought she would,”
You smiled proudly, waving excitedly towards Amanda when her eyes caught yours. “God, Y/N, you look so beautiful tonight!” She squealed, pulling you in a hug as Patrick and Jon talked, her hands gentle on your skin as she took a good look at you.
You thanked her shyly, leaning against Jon’s side as your attention was pushed towards the center of the room, where they were announcing the start of the gala. You were introduced to various people throughout the night - shaking hands, hugging wives and girlfriends, even waving to some little kids - and you felt quite tired when you found yourself in the middle of a makeshift dance floor, your arms wrapped around Jonathan’s neck.
He seemed to be in his thoughts, his touch warm on your skin as the two of you messily swayed to the music, your eyes closing. “What are you thinking about, Jon?”
“It’s complicated, sweetheart,” he whispered, sighing when your head found its place on his shoulder.
“Tell me about it, I’m willing to listen,”
He chuckled, his thumb drawing shapes on your back as he tried to find the words, the courage, to tell you he was in love with you. He hadn’t felt like that in ages, so whipped for someone, so willing to give them the world, if they asked. It felt scary, he had never fallen in love that quickly for anyone before, but something in him told him you weren’t a mistake. You were the one.
“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he mumbled, pressing a small kiss to your shoulder. “And I truly can’t get you out of my mind, in any way I try. You’re my constant thought, no matter where I am or who I am with.
“I wake up every morning, and the first person I see is you. When I come home, you’re there to ask about my day, always smiling,” your body stopped swaying as you listened to his words, the world surrounding you stopping as you focused on the moment. “You’re who I want to see every moment of the day, you’re who I want to wake up next to, and who I want to gift flowers to on Valentine’s day.
“You’re who I want to vent to, and who I want to spend lazy afternoons with. I’ve made mistakes, Y/N, and you’ve always been there to help me through it, to accept my apologies,”
“Jon-” tears were coating your eyes as you realized where he was heading, your heart fluttering.
“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered, his hands cupping your cheeks as his eyes stared deeply into yours, softness in his voice. “I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you, and it’s scary,”
“I love you, too, Jonathan,” you whispered, your forehead resting against his as you bit your lip. “So much,”
He didn’t seem to care that you were in the middle of a room filled with people, his eyes were gentle as he leaned in, his lips finding yours in a kiss you had never experienced before, so full of passion and love.
He pulled you closer to his body as he kissed you again, his gentle hand keeping your face close to his by the jaw as he showed you all his love in just one kiss. When you pulled apart, you didn’t care about the people staring at you and him, or the hushed whispers that they were sharing. You just leaned your forehead against his again, catching your breaths in silence as a giggle erupted from your mouth.
“Be mine, baby,” he whispered, smiling down at you. “My one and only,”
“I’m yours, Jon,”
Taglist: @thirstyybitch @bellaguarneri @boqvistsbabe @trashforbarzal @captaindaddies @keithseabrook27
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Fallen for the wrong you
(Based on this idea)
Even from when Marinette was a child she liked being more boyish- in her mind clothes have no gender and will never have.
But the world thought differently
Her father didn't like her for that
And neither did the people around her
Nino who was a childhood friend of hers always said that she should be more feminine.
She laughed it off as being a joke but when he didn't laugh with her she just stopped talking about it.
✎
She was 14, after she had one of the girls in her class confess her love for her, she realized that she was bisexual.
She started dating Lila, a popular girl in her school.
But once Lila visited her house, it was like hell was brought on her head.
Lila stated ranting about how she should dress like a lady and be more girly, and she should stop talking like a boy and talk more softly and be more demure.
(while Marinette literally had to go to therapist because she wasn't exactly talking and didn't talk to anyone for 4 years)
Marinette with a heavy heart took her advice and stepped out of her comfort zone by asking her parents to help her be more girly.
For the next few months Marinette observed Lila's personality traits and tried to recreate them as much as she could.
The soft and stutter voice
The soft smile
The pink dresses and short skirts
✎
After 2 years, Marinette was now known as a bubbly and shy person. Dont get me wrong, Mari observed how Lila was flirting with other guys and started ranting about anything the short girl did wrong.
But Marinette observed something else too
People were really kind to her,
The teachers complimented her on the dresses that she wore
The people in school talked to her more
For fucks sake, even her dad talked to her more.
That kinda her the poor girl, but now she was finally accepted, right?
✎
Last year of lycée...
Year with a lot of exams and brought by excitment of starting a new chapter in your life.
Lila broke up with Marinette at the end of last year, turned out she was just confused and never actually liked Mari.
The girl was really hurt it.
But her dad said suck it and be a man.
(Ironic because he treated her badly when she was more boyish)
✎
When she started college, she met Adrien
A son of a big designer in Paris.
He befriended her, and they spent alot of time together
She started to fall for him and she tried to confess...
but then when they opened up more to each other, it turned out that he was an incel that believed a woman belongs in the kitchen and is basically a sex toy and a baby maker
Mari started to distance herself from him, and made a note in her mind that said "I hate men and I'm shit scared of them, never fall for anyone and dont get in relationships or anything more then hookups."
✎
Last year of college.
Marinette meet Chloe Bourgeois.
The two girls because friends fast due to both of them having similar childhoods and interests.
Chloe helped Mari open more and teched her to not give a shit about anyone or anything
✎
After collage, Mari and Chloe opened their own company
Even tho it was hard at the start.
They started with nothing else then a little help from Mari's uncle, Jagged, and Chloe's mom, Audrey.
It was hard, with most of the industry being controlled by selfish rich men
But they did it
They made it to the top
After 2 years of trying, they finally made it up there
After many ups and downs, they finally did it.
Both girls were know for being the most kind people in the industry.
And they planned to keep that face on as long as they could.
After all, people dont like it when girls are rough and 'mean'
✎
Damian lost a bet.
That was what started the hell hole
Dick and him made a bet and he lost it? The world must have come to an end.
*Flashback*
"Ok little D, you must stop being in your room all the times, dont you have friends to hang out with?" Asked Dick
Damian stares at him for a second
"Jon is on a mission with his family, did you forgot?" He said
"Yea but that doesn't mean you just stop going outside." Dick said seriously.
Damian wasn't the type to have many friends or go out a lot, everyone knew it, but now Richard was just being an asshole for reminding him that.
"Look, why don't you get a job? You will have to take father's place one day and you dont even know anything about what he does." Dick said
"Of course I know what he does, I..he..uhm" Damian was at a loss of words
'Am I really that ignorant?' He thought
"Look, why dont you two have a bet, if Dick over here wins, you will get a job, if Damian wins, Dick will leave you alone forever and never bring it up again." Jason said
Damian looked at his two older brothers
"I'm in." Dick said
After some seconds
"I'm in as well" Damian murmured
The bet was who can capture the next villain to appear faster.
Dick was faster with only some minutes, meaning that Damian lost.
*Flashback ends*
He was now standing infront of the building of a company he had no idea of. And he was very lost.
✎
Once Damian stepped through the door, he was pushed by someone, making them both fall on the floor
"I'm so sorry, are you ok?" Asked the soft voice of the person who pushed him
"Yea I am alright" he said
He opened his eyes to see a short girl giving him a hand to get up
They made eye contact
Damian's breath cut short
After some seconds, the girl heard her phone ring
"Oh hell, Chloe must be waiting. I'm sorry I have to go" she said as she started to run
Damian didn't have time to ask any questions as she ran fast, very fast to the lift.
The guy linked repeatedly as he looked after her, a small smile forming on his lips.
✎
It's been 6 months since Marinette bumped into Damian.
The two of them got closer and they became friends... until the 4th month
That's when Damian confessed his crush on her.
She told him she felt the same.
And they started dating, and neither of them could be happier
✎
It was a late night after a celebration party
Both of them got drunk
When they got to the hotel, they started heavily making out, with no care into the world
Clothes started to come off as they moved to the bedroom
They got to the bedroom with him being in his bottoms and her being in only her shirt
They threw themselves into the bed
Damian slowly started to take off her shirt
But when his hand touches her skin
He felt something weird on her waist
Damian stopped the kiss so both of them could breathe
Once the dizziness from the kiss stopped his eyes went on her waist
His brain took a screenshot
He saw alot of tattos on her torso
Marinette looked up at him
Her eyebrows narrowed searching for his gaze. Once she found it, her mind panicked.
She pushed him off the bed and got up, searching for her clothes
Until Damian woke up from his shocked state, she was already gone out of the door.
He got up to look after her but once he was in the hallway, there was no sight of her anymore.
✎
*Some days after the break*
"Are you sure this is alright?" Marinette asked Chloe, who was sitting at her office.
"Babe, he lied to us about who he was and then got close to you, most probably to use it against you, you know how men are, they are all the same, plus, you can give the job to someone who actually needs it" Chloe said as she threw a paper on the desk.
Marinette looked at the paper, it was a dismissal paper.
2 days ago the girls found out who he really was.
The son of a rich competitor. Bruce Wayne to be more specific
Both Mari and Chloe know how the Waynes are.
They are cold, and mysterious.
Marinette was having second thoughts about this, but she couldn't risk her name being stepped on, not after working so much to get where she was.
The girl started to think if their relationship even was a relationship, they both were lying to each other.
She knew he wont accept her as she is, and now after learning who he really was, there was no doubts that it was real, and he probably didn't care, like everyone (besides Chloe) in her life.
"Hi Sam, call Damian in Mari's office please." Chloe said to the secretary.
Marinette got behind Chloe and tried to ignore what was gonna happen
After some minutes, there was knock on the door
"Come in'' said Chloe trying to hide the rage in her voice
In the door stood tall no one other then Damian Wash- I mean Wayne.
"You called me Chloe?" he asked
Damian looked behind the blonde girl to see his girlfriend (?) Turned with her back and looking at the window
"Its Miss Bourgeois to you." She said in a icy voice.
Damian opened his mouth in surprise
"And yes, I called you, please sign this" the blonde says pointing at the paper infront of her
Damian hesitantly got closer to the desk to read the paper
"A dismissal paper? What's this about?" He asks confused as he looks at Mari again
"Dont play dumb Washington." Chloe said, putting anger on the word 'Washington'
Damian looks at the girl shocked, his eyes winded
"Marinette, if this is about that night I'm sorry. I didn't mean-" the man was stopped by Chloe
"Dont you dare try to talk with her after you lied about everything Wayne." The blonde said loudly.
Damian let out a sort breath while he still looked at Marinette.
"This is a misunderstanding, I didn't lie to you guys, let me expl-" he was once again stopped by Chloe slamming the desk
"ENOUGH WAYNE, just sign this and were done."
Damian's eyes didn't leave Marinette
"Angel, please let me explain." He pleated
Marinette's head turned a little to the side
"We're over." She whispered, with a hint of sadness in her voice
Damian's eyes winded more
He looks at the paper and gets the pen in his hand
He took one more look at Mari
And he signed it.
"You are free to leave" Chloe said while turned to Marinette
And he did leave.
✎
After he was gone, Mari broke down in Chloe's arms as the blonde girl was stroking her back slowly
"I'm sorry sugar, I promise I won't let anyone hurt you anymore" Chloe whispered in Marinette's ear
✎
*at the Wayne mansion*
Damian's slammed the door closed as he entered the mansion, gathering the attention of his brothers and father
"Hey demon spawn, how was work?" Asked Jason as Damian walked past him
"Lilttle D, is everything alright? You seem down" Dick said
Damian stopped.
"I got fired" he says while his voice cracked a little
Bruce's eyes winded
"Son, I know you liked the job, but it's not that big of a deal, you can work with Tim" he suggested
Damian was looking at the floor
"And my girlfriend broke up with me" he whispered
"YOUR WHAT?" says Tim as he spilled his coffee
"Since when did you had a girlfriend Damian?" Asks Bruce
"Since 2 months ago" he whispers again
"Why didn't you tell us?" Jason asked
"BECAUSE I KNEW YOU WOULD HAVE RUINED IT FOR ME." He screams
The family was stunned
"Master Damian, no need to yell, why dont you vent to us? You're very stressed, I can tell." Alfred says
And he did, he told them all about Marinette, all the dates, all the laughs and smiles they shared together, he even told them about what happened that night
"So you're telling me, you got fired because of some tattos?" Jason asked
"No, I got fired because they found out I was a Wayne" Damian says roughly
"How did they not know?" Bruce says
"They dont look into competitors families, it's a bad habit that both of them have" The young Wayne said
"So for 6 months nobody told them who you were?" Tim asks
"No, because we weren't seen in public, I tried to be as careful as I could so no one would know " Damian sighed
"Well fuck, you fucked up big time, but that's not exactly a reason for her to fire you, not a good one at least" Dick said
Damian shrugs
"Wait, I think I know how to resolve this" Tim says
"What do you mean, Tim?" Asked Jason as Tim put his laptop on the coffee table
Tim started aggressively typing on the keyboard
"We now have a charity event to go to" he smirked
✎
"I'm not sure what to think about this Chloe."said the dark haired girl
"We're going to leave when you want sugar, but we need to attempt at the event" Chloe said as she was looking through Marinette's closet
Since Damian left, he was all Mari could have think
about.
She was distracted, hurt, confused, maybe even kinda mad at herself
"Aha, found it, look Mari! You would look so pretty in it. Plus it brings your tattoos at life" says Chloe while holding a suit in her hand.
Marinette promised herself that she would finally show the world that she wasn't the soft girl she always pictured herself as
She knows her parents would be watching the event, and she wanted revenge on her father for the years of therapy that she needed to get because of him and every man that did her bad, every man that said she couldn't open a business because she was a woman.
So she put on the suit, and left with Chloe who was holding her hand protectively.
✎
Once the two girls exited the car, flash lights were all over their faces
They somehow got into the building
Chloe went to get to get them both something to drink, leaving Mari behind.
The girl looked around the big room, her mind being concentrated at one of the paintings.
Suddenly someone was dragging her out of the room
"WHAT THE HELL, LET ME GO!'' she yells to death ears
She continued to struggle but nothing moved out of the person's grip
They got into a dark room, Mari could hear the door lock, she closed her eyes, scared of what was gonna happened.
She heard the light turn on.
"Will you now let me explain" said a familiar voice
She opened her eyes in surprise
"Damian? What the fuck is wrong with you, have you gone nuts?" She said angrily to him
"You didn't let me explain myself, so I had to do something about it, I cant just go on with my life because I know you didn't know what actually is going on." Damian says trying to make his voice as soft as he could, so he wouldn't scare her away
Marinette remains silent, sign for him to start speaking.
"I didn't mean to lie to you, but have you seen how you reacted when you found out who I was? You started to treat me differently." He whispered
Marinette opened her mouth to say something, but she decided to remain silent
"I didn't lie when I said I love you, god I still fucking do, but I had no idea how to tell you" he sighed
Marinette sighed a deep heavy
"If we start to confess things, I also have something to say" she says
Damian's eyebrows narrowed
"I'm not this bubbly shy girl, I am not the sunshine I make myself look like" she says
"Oh." He said
"I never was and I will never be, I print myself as that because people would treat me differently if they knew the real me" she sighed
Damian took a step towards her
He kissed her forehead softly, then her lips aggressively
"Then show me the real you"
(Marinette's tattos/suit and Chloe's dress)
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Crazy Rich Avengers: Chapter 2
Peter Parker x Reader
Chapter Summary: Tony is oblivious, Shuri is a queen as always, Peter is breakfast man and Y/N’s a grandma
Warnings: swearing and one mention of sex
Word count: 2589
*Flashback to Wednesday*
“Alright troops, let’s get this party started.” Tony walked into the debriefing room that was used for only meetings, but this week it had a new purpose: discussing Wanda and Vision’s wedding plans. Everyone was gathered around a circular table with plans and maps strewn out across the table.
“What made you guys want to get married in Maui?” Nat turned to Wanda and Vision. Wanda simply shrugged, “We just wanted to see what the island has to offer.”
“Plus Mr. Stark has that lovely beach house in Spreckelsville,” Vision added.
“Are y’all inviting Peter and Y/N to the wedding?” Sam asked
“Of course! Why wouldn’t we?” Wanda seemed kind of offended that Sam would ask that. She was very close with Peter and the way he talked about you always made her warm inside knowing that he found someone he really loved. She was kind of like a second aunt to him in a way, though no one could top Aunt May.
“Oh, I love Y/N so much. Did you guys tell her happy birthday two weeks ago?” Nat asked.
A couple of ‘I forgot’’ and ‘Oh shit’ replies made their way into the group and Nat just shook her head.
“Wait wait wait. Who’s Y/N?” Tony was so confused. He had never heard of a Y/N Y/L/N before. Was she an employee close with Wanda? And why was she with Peter?
“What do mean who’s Y/N?” Steve asked.
“She’s Peter’s girlfriend, Stark.” Bucky stated it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. And it kind of was. Peter would come into the Compound on the weekends sometimes for training and just gush about you to everyone and even Bucky seemed to know who you were. And he never pays attention to Peter. Tony just sat there, not knowing what to say to hearing his intern having a girlfriend.
“Pete has girlfriend?” How come you all knew and I didn’t?”
Thor took a swig of his drink. “Because you do not listen to the Man of Spiders.”
At this moment Shuri, T’Challa, and Okoye walk in, with papers and blueprints in only T’Challa and Okoye’s hands, while Shuri sips her iced coffee, like the bad bitch she is.
“Hey what’s up losers?” She walked in and took the papers from their hands and spread them out on the table. She turned to Wanda and Vision. “Okay so I developed a knew sound system for the reception that does not require a DJ, and you can choose which one you want!” They all look at the plans and sure enough, there were about four different designs that they could choose from. Wanda and Vision had put Shuri in charge of all the technological elements of the wedding because she was clearly the smartest out of all of them.
T’Challa stepped up to the table. “Sorry we are late; my sister had to bring all of her designs and took about three hours to pack.”
“What? I have to look my best for the wedding. We all know you just throw clothes into a suitcase and call it a day.” She turned towards everyone else. “The only shoes he brought were his flip flops.”
“What you don’t like my royal sandals?” He puts up his foot to show off his shoes and turned to Okoye for support. She just shook her head. “I’m not getting in the middle of this, but if I were to choose a side, I agree with Shuri.”
Shuri laughed in T’Challa’s face and fist bumped Okoye and he looked at them and shook his head.
“What do you two know what fashion?” He asked.
“More than you,” they both said at the same time. This got everyone laughing around the table and Steve did his classic belly laugh where he grabbed the side of his chest and basically fell over.
Shuri turned to Wanda, “So, whose all invited to your big day?”
“Well, we invited Peter and Y/N –“
“Yes! Sorry I just can’t wait to meet her for the first time. Go on.”
Wanda laughed, “Aren’t we all? Also, Peter’s friend Ned is invited because he helps us all out on missions. What is it he calls himself?”
“The Guy in the Chair,” Vision replied.
“Ah yes, and of course all of you people. We wanted to keep it small,” Wanda finished.
“You know,” Sam started, turning to the royal bunch. “Stark over here didn’t know that Pete had a girlfriend.”
“What?” They all three gasped.
Okoye spoke this time, “We live all the way in Wakanda, and knew about this. You live twenty minutes away.”
“We know. It’s ridiculous,” Rhodey spoke.
“Okay and is there a specific song that you are walking down to?” Shuri asked.
“We chose the song ‘To My Future Wife’ by Mr. Jon Bellion,” Vision replied
“Oh, I love his songs!”
“We figured it represented our love for each other,” Wanda looked at Vision and gave him a peck on the lips, with hearts in both of their eyes. A bunch of aw’s filled the room as a response to the couple.
*Flashback ends*
You wake up at around three thirty in the morning to your alarm. You were essentially trapped in Peter’s arms and had to pry yourself out to get up and get ready. You threw a pillow at him to wake him up.
“What was that for?” He groaned.
“Come on. We got to get up or we’ll miss the flight.”
He got up with a sigh and got ready. He just dressed in jeans and that tight black t-shirt that you loved. Why would he pick that for a flight? You bit your lip and just turned away getting ready yourself. You picked out your black leggings and a white shirt because you wanted to be comfy for the 12+ hour flight ahead of you.
You packed your purse as your carry on which had your phone chargers, headphones, perfume, you know, the essentials for flying.
“What are we going to do for breakfast?” He asked. Peter was a breakfast man and so deciding what to eat in the morning was very important for him.
“There’s a coffee place at the airport; don’t worry, Pete.”
You left your apartment at around four in the morning and made sure that everything was turned off and nothing was out of the ordinary. You two take an Uber to JFK and almost fell asleep again. One thing was for sure, you were taking a nap as soon as you got on the plane. When you got there, you checked in with the front desk and saw that your flight would take off at 5:30am. So, you took Peter to the little coffee stand in the airport to get him some energy and food. He got a mocha iced coffee with a blueberry scone and you got a caramel macchiato and a breakfast bagel. You sat down near where your flight would be boarding and ate your food. You were so excited to eat because your favorite breakfast item was just a good bacon, egg, and cheese bagel. You bit into it and sighed out in a state of peace.
You had downloaded a few episodes of your favorite shows on your laptop so you and Peter could watch them together. You had downloaded some from The Office, Brooklyn 99, Parks and Rec, and The Good Place. You pulled out your laptop and headphones and gave one earbud to Peter so he could watch too. You decided to watch the episode of The Office where Michael hosts the Fun Run for Rabies.
About an hour later they started to board for your flight and packed everything up and walked over to the flight attendant.
“Right this way,” she said. She led you past the economy class and into first class and you started to get suspicious. There was no way you could afford this. Sure, you had some money put into savings, but it wasn’t much. She led you into one of cabins and you put your purse down.
“Uh ma’am?” You called out.
“Yes?”
“Um there must be some mistake, I mean… we’re economy people. Like, we’re broke, there’s no way that we’re in first class.”
“Are you sure? You two are Y/N Y/L/N and Peter Parker, right?” She asked confused.
“Tony, I swear,” Peter sighed.
“What?”
“I told Mr. Stark to not upgrade us because we were fine, but I guess he didn’t listen.”
“Oh.”
The flight attendant walked away and you fell on the bed. The cabin had a little TV on the opposite wall and the bed facing it. Night tables were on both sides of the bed with little lamps that made it kind of cozy. You walked around the small room looking at the different little pictures of beaches from different countries. There were a set of silk pajamas on your nightstand and you held them up to Peter.
“These are nicer than my actual clothes!” Peter just laughed at how excited you were and pulled you down on the bed. He rubbed your thighs and started to kiss your neck and sucked lightly and slowly worked his way up to your ear and nibbled on it.
“As much as I would love to continue this, I am not having sex on a plane,” you laughed.
He laid down on the bed with you, “Well what do you wanna do then?”
“Tell me about everyone that’s going to be there. I want to be prepared to meet them when we get there.”
“Okay for starters, there’s Wanda and Vision, Wanda has like these mind-reading powers, so be careful about what you’re thinking around her. There have been plenty of times where I’ve thought about you in an adult way that’s caused her to not to be near me sometimes. But she’s awesome. She’s kind of like my second aunt when May’s not around; we’re really close.”
“Good to know. It’s also a good thing she’s not here right now because all I can think about is you in that shirt,” you wink at him.
He laughs and kisses your nose, “Vision is also pretty cool. You’ve seen Vision in like pictures and everything so you know he can shift between robot and human form, so that’s cool. Um, he’s just really chill and laid back. There’s also Sam and Bucky.”
“Oh yeah you’ve told me about them. Do they still tease you a lot?”
“Not much anymore, but I’m sure they will when they see us together,” he sighed. Yesterday when he went to the Compound for his camera, they had mentioned that Peter wouldn’t be getting much packing done if he knew what they meant. Peter did know what they meant and just rolled his eyes at them.
“Sam’s pretty cool when he’s not teasing me, and then he’s kind of a jerk, but overall he’s cool; you’ll probably get along more with him than anyone. He’s got a good sense of humor so,” he trailed off.
“Oh okay. Now what about Bucky?”
“Bucky still doesn’t really like me, all because of what happened in Berlin.”
“Sounds like he’s petty.”
“Yeah he kind of is,” he laughed.
He goes through telling you about all the Avengers and what they’re like. They all sounded pretty chill and fun to hang around.
“By the way, Ned is going to be there.”
“What? Really?” You neatly shouted because you haven’t seen him since about a month before college classes started. He had gone all the way to MIT for college, and the last time you saw him, was when you and Peter had helped him move into his dorm.
“Why is he going?”
“He’s like our ‘Guy in the Chair’ for the team. Tells us where to go on missions, and helps out with the team, so I guess Wanda and Vision wanted him there.”
“At least there will be someone I know and close with,” you laugh at Peter’s fake hurt expression.
“You’ll have me, baby.”
“Yeah, but you’ll probably be talking to everyone and doing wedding stuff and I’ll be just hanging out. But now I have Ned! Now, tell me about Mr. Tony Stark. I know he’s kind of like your father-figure as you put it sometimes. Do you think he’ll like me, or will he go all Papa Bear on me and tell me that I’m not good enough?” You joked.
“He should be cool with you. Mr. Stark’s a pretty easy-going guy so I don’t think there will be a problem. Unless you try to crash the wedding,” he smiled.
“Yeah I’m totally gonna crash it and just get shit-faced at the wedding.” It was now close to seven o’clock in the morning and you and Peter were wide awake and couldn’t go back to sleep and still had another thirteen hours to go, so you just pulled your laptop back out and put on one of your shows and cuddled with Peter.
He held your waist against his and laid his head on top of yours. Your arms were wrapped around his torso and head on his chest, watching TV. You stayed like this for a couple of hours. You eventually got bored and started playing a game on your phone.
“Whatcha playing?” He asked.
“Candy Crush.”
He laughed at your game choice. “You’re such a grandma.”
“What? Just because I like candy crush that makes me grandma?’
“Yep.”
You lightly slap his chest as a response and watched his smile turn wide into a laugh. God those eye crinkles, I swear, you thought. It was kind of true though, everyone in your family and in high school called you the grandma friend of the group because you picked crocheting and baking of all hobbies, just like a grandma. And apparently Candy Crush was now considered a grandma game.
“Okay, I’d like to see you beat an ultra-hard level where you only have twenty moves to save 10 gummy bears,” you challenged him.
“Is that seriously a level on there?”
“Yes, and I beat it on the first try. Why, you scared?”
“No, had me your phone.”
You gladly give it to him and throughout the level you have to hold in your laughs because seeing his face scrunch up in frustration may have been the best thing ever.
“Shit!” He exclaimed
“What, did you lose?”
“No,” he lied. You held out your hand for your phone and saw that he lost on the level.
“Ha! Loser,” you poked his chest as you teased him. “It’s a shame you lost though, because losers don’t get prizes.”
“Oh yeah? And what’s my prize?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you.
You shrugged. “Guess you got to win if you want to find out.”
This time he held out his hand for your phone. “Just know, you got four more chances to win before you run out of lives.” Peter tried so hard at the game and gently slammed your phone in frustration and you giggled. Let’s just say that Peter didn’t get his prize. The rest of the flight consisted of watching TV and eating the surprisingly amazing airline snacks. When the nighttime came, the flight attendants turned all the lights off, kind of like a silent go to sleep call for all the passengers. You and Peter snuggled up against each other and waited for the rest of the flight to be over.
Tag-List: @randomstufflol29 @spideyspeaches @binnotjin @lolooo22 @multi-universe21 @ladykxxx08
A/N: We got an Avengers flashback! Yay! I really wanted to incorporate the Wakandan bunch because a) Black Panther is my favorite movie, and b) They are all just amazing and I love the way that Shuri and Okoye tease T’Challa all the time and wanted to put that in this. The whole Candy Crush scene had actually happened to me before and I thought it would be nice to add a piece of me in the story, and Candy Crush is honestly underrated if you ask me lol. I hope you all really like this chapter, because the next one is going to be awesome! Thank you all for reading!
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I have a request.if marinette is Jon's twin sister and has no power. Marinette contact justice league for help but she end up being reveal her identity to justice league because jon and Clark knows her and can you make it daminette story
Tale of the Girl Kent
One evening years ago, twin cries could be heard in Metropolis. These cries belong to Jonathan Samuel Kent and Marinette Martha Ella Kent, newborn children of Lois Lane and Clark Kent. They grew up together for quite some time, and people around them could swear they never saw one without the other.
Ever since a young age, Jonathan, or Jon as people call him, discovered that he had inherited his father's superpowers. Flight, super hearing, super speed, heat vision, x-ray vision, and etc. Marinette on the other hand doesn't have these superhuman abilities. She does, however, have an incredibly sharp eye for detail, astonishing creativity, unimaginable problem-solving skills, and an IQ that is already considered a genius, 184. Even though she was born without mystical abilities, Marinette never felt jealous of her twin. Howbeit because of this, her father decided not to tell the rest of the league, short of Batman and Wonder Woman.
When the twins turned nine, Lois and Clark felt like they were neglecting their little girl, focusing more on teaching Jon how to handle his powers. Marinette didn't mind and she had told them this repeatedly. But then again, they're parents, they're supposed to worry. As a result, they decided to reach out to Lois' old college friend and roommate, Nadja Chamack. They told her of their dilemma and asked if she knew anyone who could and would take care of their daughter. Nadja mentioned a married couple whom she has known since high school. She said that they had wanted a child but the doctor said they couldn't have one. Of course, Nadja also mentioned that the couple were really kind people, they would never take their place as parents. They would, however, be pleased to be their daughter's guardian.
And that's what happened. Marinette flew to Paris the next week to live with her new guardians, leaving a teary eyed father and brother behind, not like they would admit it. She soon found her guardians' names are Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng. She could've sworn she stared at the sun when they picked her up.
As time went by, Marinette got very comfortable with the Dupain-Chengs to the point she slipped and called them maman and papa. She told her biological parents about this and they were glad she felt safe enough to call them that. Both didn't have anything against Tom and Sabine because of that and Marinette was really glad.
Let's jump to when she turns 13. She finds a mysterious box on her desk and opens it. When a flying creature flew out of it, Marinette wasn't really surprised. She had seen weirder things. Then the creature, who she found out was named Tikki, started explaining that she was chosen to be a hero to save Paris. "Figures that I'm made to join the family business," she said. Tikki just blinked, "What do you me-" she was cut off by a shout. "Kim!" a voice roared. "You can explain this to me later, right now just say spots on," Tikki said.
Once the 'akuma' was handled, Marinette told Tikki of her biological family. "Hey Tikki?" "Yeah?" "Do you think I should call the Justice League? Not to ask them for help, more like... Tell them of they are going to Paris to keep their emotions in control? I don't think I can defeat my dad or my brother." "That's a great idea Marinette! Although I suggest that you ask Chat Noir for his opinion first." And here she is now on the Eiffel Tower with Chat, trying to call the League.
Ironically, Superman answered. "Hello, this is the Justice League. How may we help you." "Hello, my name is Ladybug and this is Chat Noir," it felt so weird using formal talk with her dad, "We wanted to inform you of Paris' new situation as of yesterday." At the word Paris, Superman's froze, Mari lives there. "A supervillain has appeared and it turns people into villains to do the dirty work. It appears that the supervillain transforms them if someone has a negative emotion. Hawkmoth, the supervillain, and us get our powers from the miraculi," Ladybug continued knowing that her dad knows about the miraculi. "We came to ask if any of you were to come to Paris make sure that your emotions are under control," Chat said, "We don't need to fight any of you."
"I can accept that, I have heard of the miraculi and it seems reasonable," Superman said, "If I'm correct, any damage should be reversed. No civilians should be hurt, am I right?" "Figures he'd be worried about me," Ladybug mumbled forgetting that her dad had super hearing and pieced everything together. "My cupcake?" he asked. Ladybug's eyes widened before she started laughing, "Damn it, forgot you had super hearing." Superman grinned, "Looks like you're in the family business anyway huh?" "Seems like it."
Chat stood on the side wondering why are the two so comfortable with each other. "Guess I owe you an explanation huh Chat?" Ladybug said, "Superman here, is my biological father and the current Superboy is my twin brother. Unlike him, I didn't inherit dad's powers." Meanwhile, on the other side of the line, Clark called for his son and told him the news. "Hiya sis!" "Hiya little brother!" "You're only older by 5 minutes!" "I'm still older!" Chat laughed at their banter, "I can see that now."
"Just hold on a minute, I can register your partner and change your name and you can zeta on over to discuss this more," Superman said, "Also, I missed you." "I miss you too." Once Superman gave them the okay, Ladybug disconnected the phone and dragged Chat over to the zeta platform (I have little knowledge of this so feel free to correct me) They ended up at the Watchtower and Ladybug hurriedly ran to her father and brother giving them a big hug. "Superman have you seen-" Wonder Woman stopped when she saw Ladybug hugging her colleague. She ran out of the room to grab someone to make sure she wasn't hallucinating, that person happened to be Batman, and wherever Batman goes, 16 year old Robin follows.
"You are seeing this too right? That's his daughter right?" Wonder Woman asked. "Yes I am, and most likely." Meanwhile, Robin was just confused, who was this girl and... Is that a knockoff Catwoman? But since Batman appeared not to think of her as a threat he let it slide, that is until their eyes met. His heart skipped a beat. Her eyes are so beautiful. Superboy heard Robin's heartbeat picking up and smirked because it wasn't only Robin's heart, but also his sisters. Both speeding up but still somehow in sync. They are going to date each other if it's the last thing I do.
1143 words
Longest one shot apart from my secret Santa. Tell me if you want part two.
XOXO
~𝓔𝓲𝓵𝓮𝓮𝓷
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Strawberry Shake (18+ GT Romance)
In which Jon and Sylvia share a strawberry shake 🍓💖🍓
Yep, Jon and Sylv’s strawberry kink is still going strong! 😘
Characters belong to me and the lovely @marydublin5 💕
Word count: 2,309
Warning: Sexual content
Sylvia stayed in luxurious hotel rooms so rarely, she often forgot they existed. Jon and Cliff normally couldn’t splurge on anything more than the necessities, but it wasn’t as though she ever felt cramped.
The room was courtesy of Lee, a little weekend getaway as a thank-you for helping him and Delilah out of a bind with a particularly nasty witch coven. He’d even been kind enough to get two rooms. No one was more grateful for that than Cliff.
Although Sylvia felt out of place in such splendor, she wasn’t complaining. The pillows and sheets were unbelievably soft. The glass balcony doors offered a stunning view of the daytime skyline. There was even a small, private pool that ran to the edge of the balcony and seemed to touch the horizon.
“Good thing we have that,” Jon said, peering outside. “It’s blazing out there.”
It was a thinly-veiled hint that he was dying to take a dip with her. “Is it?” she said coyly, as if she didn’t have her handmade swimsuit ready to go under her clothes.
While Jon stepped away to grab towels from the bathroom and change into his trunks, Sylvia took the opportunity to peek at the room service menu propped up on one of the sleek tables. A photo in the dessert section immediately caught her eye—a pink drink topped with whipped cream and strawberries. Her mouth watered at the sight. It looked like ice cream. The print beside the photo declared it a strawberry shake.
The front of the menu had instructions on how to get the food delivered… and Lee had said to feel free to order whatever they wanted.
Sylvia hurried to Jon’s phone near the edge of the table and unlocked it. She dialed the number on the front of the menu and sent a text, as directed.
Room 1207. Strawberry shake. Extra strawberries.
Jon’s footsteps began to thud back. Sylvia quickly closed the texting app and opened Candy Crush. She pretended to be too immersed to notice him. When she peeked from the corner of her eye, she found that he was not to be ignored. His shirtlessness tended to have that effect on her.
And he knew it.
“Just when I thought I was gonna have to fight that game for attention,” Jon said, folding his arms on the table and leaning closer.
“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” she said with unconvincing nonchalance. “Could you give me some thinking room? I’ve been stuck on this level for a week.”
“Oh? His shadow fell darker as his arm encircled where she sat on the table. “You sure I can’t convince you to come outside with me?”
She shrugged indifferently. “You’re welcome to try.”
Please do.
He accepted the invitation without hesitation, closing in with kisses that started at her wrist and made their way up to her shoulders. She squirmed as he nudged her closer with his arm and rubbed his cheek against her until she couldn’t help but burst into giggles.
“Okay, fine!” she said breathlessly.
She shooed him back and started to strip off her clothes. Untying the back of her blouse, she pulled it over her head and tossed it aside. Noting Jon’s unabashed stare, she took her time with her shorts. Undoing the button, she slowly slipped them off, wiggling her hips for good measure. The moment they finally fell around her ankles, Jon’s hand swept in from behind and scooped her up.
“H-hey!” she shrieked gleefully.
No sooner than he had begun teasing her with more nuzzles and kisses, a knock came at the door. Jon breathed in sharply and went tense. It was the hunter in him that made him do that; after all, Cliff knew better than to stop by without a courtesy text first. Sylvia would have been suspicious too if she didn’t know what was waiting behind the door.
“Stay here,” Jon murmured.
She nodded with feigned uncertainty as he set her down behind the room service menu. Grinning, she peeked out from behind to watch him answer the door. His broad frame blocked her from seeing what was going on, but the tension in his shoulders eased up. After the door shut, he turned around with a pink drink in one hand and a little glass bowl of strawberries in the other.
He strolled back to the table with raised eyebrows. “Now, where could this have come from?”
Jumping out from behind the menu, Sylvia put both her hands over her chest in shock and dropped her jaw for good measure. “Are those strawberries? And ice cream? Hm. I dunno, maybe some angel heard you complain about how hot it is?”
“Guess so. That must mean it’s all for me.” He stuck the straw in his mouth.
“Wait!” Sylvia cried, launching herself from the table in a flurry of buzzing wings. “I’ve never tried one of those before! The least you could do is share so I can see if I like it!”
He narrowed his eyes and pretended to think about it while he drank an inch of the shake within seconds. She flew at him and tried to yank the straw from his mouth. Her attempts only made him laugh and twist away while she tried to stay on him. When she finally got a firm grip on the straw, his teeth released it. She fell straight back into the whipped cream. She squealed shrilly at the coldness, surprised that she didn’t sink like it was a normal drink. The whipped cream was halfway up her torso, while her legs dropped partway into the shake.
Jon looked like he was trying to find the strength to be annoyed, but the way he bit his lip stated otherwise. He visibly gathered himself.
“Need some help there?” His voice only cracked a little.
Catching her breath from the cold, she thought about it. “Nope. You’re right. It is really hot. I deserve this.”
“You’re an ice fairy,” he pointed out. “You come with a cool-down feature.”
“So? I’m keeping the drink cool.” Shaking whipped cream from her arms, Sylvia perked up in realization. “Since I’m in it, doesn’t that make it mine now?”
“Still mine,” he said with a dangerously ravenous smirk. “You just added yourself to it.”
Her heart did a backflip. “Did I?”
She leaned over and pressed her hand to the rim of the glass, sending a spider web of frost along the outside. He flinched, but his complaints died as she began to pose herself. She laid face down, practically burying herself in the whipped cream. Propping her elbows on the rim, she crossed her ankles. Although she tried to keep a teasing, inviting smile on her face, she couldn’t help but perk up with genuine excitement when he reached for the bowl of strawberries.
Certain that he was about to tear off a piece for her, she grunted in outrage when he popped the whole thing in his mouth and bit it just short of the stem.
“Greedy!” she accused, flicking whipped cream his way.
He chewed with aching leisure, then swallowed. His gaze flicked up and down at her. “Shouldn’t you be more worried about ruining your swimsuit?”
“Maybe.” She pulled herself up straighter and ran her hands down her front, cupping her breasts. “But it’s getting sticky. If only I had someone big and strong to help me…” She looked at him wistfully. “Do you know anyone?”
“I might.”
He set the glass down on the table. She rolled over and looked straight up as he leaned in. His mouth pressed down, pushing her deeper into the shake.
She was ready to quip that he wasn’t helping her swimsuit situation at all, but her words were lost the moment his tongue began to explore her. The tip found the bottom of her bra and slipped underneath, pulling her up enough to catch it with his teeth. His bite grinded delicately against the fabric. Tugging upward, he lifted her entirely out of the shake, dangling by her bra until it slipped off. She plummeted back onto the whipped cream with a plop.
Her breath was heavy. “Now that was just talent,” she managed, gazing up as he sucked the rest of the whipped cream and strawberry shake from her bra.
“Really? How ‘bout this?”
The surface of the shake shifted as he moved the straw. He brought it partway out and propped her legs higher with it. He was going for her panties next. Her insides writhed with delight as his tongue began another search for fabric, teasing between her legs for a moment before moving higher and finding the waistband. Reaching back, she held onto the rim as he slipped the panties off her legs, leaving her entirely naked in the shake. Juicy red smears from the strawberry Jon had eaten covered her.
“So.” She picked herself up and sat back as though she were in a hot tub. “What do you think?”
He wet his lips. “You’re a better topping than a strawberry could ever hope to be.”
His mouth found the end of the straw again. The shake sank lower and lower, plunging her deeper behind the glass. Once the rim was over her head, Jon lifted the glass to eye level to peer in at her. She swiped remnants of strawberry shake that blocked her view, then went at it with her tongue, licking away what clung to the surface. Jon shuddered as he watched. He pressed his tongue to the outside in response. His breaths of anticipation fogged the glass as if he was dying to get at her.
If she had any control over her shake-sodden wings, she would have bolted up toward his mouth in a heartbeat.
The shake was disturbed as Jon took hold of the straw again and stirred it around her, like a shark circling its prey.
Getting an idea, she lunged out and grabbed hold of the plastic, and pulled herself higher onto it. It was slippery, but she managed to hug it with her thighs. As she inched upward, she noticed that Jon had stopped moving to ogle her. Meeting his gaze, she released her hold just enough to slide back down seductively, riding the straw like pole dancers she’d seen in Vegas.
Jon observed with quiet amazement, a shudder passing his lips before he could say a word. “Could… you do that again?” he murmured. The desperation was half-playful, half-genuine.
She tossed her hair back. “That depends. Are you gonna be nice and share some strawberries with me?”
Jon nearly shattered the glass bowl in his eagerness to grab a strawberry. He ripped off a piece for her. His hand couldn’t fit down into the glass to give it to her, so she grabbed hold of the straw again.
“Lift me up,” she said.
When he did, he brought the strawberry chunk close enough for her to bite right out of his fingers. Savoring the piece in her mouth, she threw one arm to the side and twirled around the straw twice, swinging her hips. It felt almost like turning herself in the air when she flew.
((Art by @marydublin5 ))
“More,” she demanded.
He fed her again, lingering so that she could lick strawberry juice from his fingertip. At that point, he couldn’t seem to contain himself any longer. He dunked the straw so suddenly into the shake, she nearly lost her grip. Freshly soaked in shake and whipped cream, he brought her back up to taste. She held tight to the straw as his tongue probed all around.
“Do I taste good?” she panted, her voice breaking off in a squeak as he licked between her wings.
“Divine, Sylv,” his voice rumbled at her back.
Long before she was clean, he tilted his head back and lifted the dripping straw over his open mouth. Drops of strawberry shake and whipped cream fell from her wings and body, running down his chest. He shook the straw until she slipped down to the bottom. His waiting mouth closed around her from the waist down, and he tugged the straw away.
She moaned as his lips and teeth held her place while his tongue played with her legs. His fingertips caught her under the arms and pulled her out. He lapped and kissed the sugary cream around her breasts, shoulders, and face until she was tingling with his passionate affections.
“You got some on you too!” She pointed down at him, where the drips had run south to his abs.
Dropping her in a cupped hand, he held her by his chest. She wasted no time in planting her hands on his warm skin. She licked away the smears, putting her whole body into the motion of moving up and down. Jon’s moans resounded each time she stopped to nibble at him as she cleaned him off.
While she was lavishing his abs with extra kisses and bites, he lifted her back up and pinned her to his palm with his mouth. His tongue paid special attention between her legs, making her cry his name and buck her hips. He pulled away to touch her, stirring with a single fingertip.
Whimpering with ecstasy and impatience, she grabbed hold of his finger and guided it into a firmer rhythm.
“You close?” he whispered.
She could only manage a whine and a nod. His tongue returned, and there was no more teasing. He pressed up and down with heavy passion until she gave a final cry and arched back on her elbows.
As she flopped down and caught her breath, he gazed down at her lovingly and pressed soft kisses along her body. “So,” he murmured, lips brushing her cheek and neck. “What do you think? You like strawberry shakes?”
“They’re alright,” she mumbled, smiling serenely.
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what about feeling homesickness and Calum comforting her?
thaxxx! i changed a bit, hope you like ❤
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He was standing in front of her house, it's was a fresh end of the afternoon in LA, with a cool wind and a pink-shaded sunset. He had a cigarette between his fingers in one hand and the other one was resting at his side after he knocked on the door. She opened and locked it with her key "night" he checked his iPhone '5:57 pm' "almost night. And you are gorgeous. As always" "thanks, you are too" she directed her gaze to the cigarette quickly, but not quickly as he dropped it onto the ground and stubbed his foot in it. She hated when he smoked. "thought you were going to quit" "I will" "yeah and I will fly away from this damn city" "what is wrong with LA?" "It isn't home" he knew she missed her hometown, Milwaukee, and he also knew she had duties in LA and she knew that too "babe..." "It's alright" she breathed deeply before look at her boyfriend and smile "thought we were going, huh?" "Yeah, sure, let's go" "let's go" he took her hand in his empty one and they walked to her car. She had a glowing conversible candy apple red 1966 Ford Mustang that Calum was never allowed to drive "why I cannot drive?" "You know why" "oh, come on. It's old shit, honey" "no! Almost kill me isn't 'old shit'" "was an accident and you just broke an ankle" "A leg" she sat on the driver's seat and he watched how good she looked in the sunset "hey!" She snapped her fingers "aren't you coming in?" "fuck! Sorry. it's your fault!" he jumped into the car and put on the seat belt "I will not apologize for you having a terrible sense of beauty" she had low self-esteem sometimes "my sense of beauty is perfect" he leaned closer and cupped her face "just as you" "you are perfect" she smiled and pulled his neck to a passionate kiss. A calm and warm, but passionate kiss "but, seriously babe, let me drive" "no!" she turned on the engine, adjusted the mirror and backed up the car from the driveway without taking her gaze from the mirrors "that's how you back up the car with safety" he groaned, throwing his head back "It happened once! And it was an accident" "I know, just recalling" she winked and made the way for the downtown.
Last year, before they started dating, she asked Calum to back the car out of the driveway, but he did it without looking in the mirrors, according to himself "who the fuck know the right side of pen drives?" and ran over her. Accidently, of course. For luck, she just broke a leg and he took care of her, and due it, they become closer. "You know, there're some bad things that happen for good reasons" "I thought we were done with this subject" he squeezed her right hand "if I haven't given all my attention to the damn pen drive and ran over you, maybe we'd not become closer as we did" "yeah... fine, I will let you drive" she parked the car left the driver's seat "move on, Cal!" he stood up and gave her a deep and quick kiss before sat down in the driver seat and squeeze the beige leather steering wheel "I love you" "love you too, but now I'm fucking dying to know where we're going" "you were driving and I have to know?!" "yes, Mr. driver" she teased, he giggled "fine. Know a place" "good".
*
They were on a road that she didn't recognize "Calum" "my name" he loved when she said his name "where are we going?" "It's a surprise" "oh no. Please, don't do this to me" "sorry, babe. I didn't make the rules" "which rules?" they laughed together "okay" she turned on the radio and tried to connect with some decent station "fuck" "you know you can use your pen drive, right?" she had taken the pen drive off the car "not with you in the wheel" you know, just for caution. he rolled his eyes and she finally connected with some Latin radio station
'Once de la noche y todavía no contesta'
'Un de la mañana y todavía no hay respuesta'
"Oh, no! No way!" "What?" "I am not bilingual like you" "and...?" "Not listening to something I do not understand" "so are you graduated in Korean now?" "No..."
'Cómo hacerte entender...'
he swallowed dryly a little "don't know what are you talking about" "no? What about that time you got drunk and sang out loud BTS's songs, huh?" "Only the English parts! Now just change it" "but it's Maluma!" he looked at her without blinking and pouted "fine" he smiled like a kid
'... eres muy bonita pa' llorar por el...'
She changed the radio station once more and found a random one
'Day to night to morning, keep with me in the moment
I’d let you had I known it, why don’t you say so?'
"You got to be kidding me" she giggled "I hate this song!" "I know" she kept laughing
'You got to keep me focused, you want it? Say so'
"Just turned it off" "oh, but I like it" Calum turned off the radio "no songs for you" "hey, that's my car! Spent lots of money on it" "But I am driving" "don't make me feel more regret than I already am" he laughed and leaned quickly to kiss her cheek "hey, Cal" "hum?" "I am bored" "you're acting like a fucking kid" "no. I am a fucking kid" "well, it's not a long ride. We'll be there soon" "where is 'there'?" "Nice try, nice try" she pouted and laid her head on the window so she could stargaze and think about how lucky she is to had been run over by the man driving at her side. She was so so in love with him.
*
Flashback:
Some friends had texted her. Bon Jovi was going to be in town and they have two tickets more. They gave it to her of course expecting she'd invite that guy she hanged out a few times, definitely her new crush. Calum. Such a beautiful name 'thanks Roy' he had introduced them. For some miracle, she got the guts to invite him.
[4:28pm]
'Be here at 6pm'
[5:17pm]
'Your place is so far from where I am now'
'You can drive my car'
'will be there in 40 minutes'
She grinned, shook her head lightly and blocked her phone to finish her makeup 'he will never desire me' she thought even knowing she will try to impress him anyways. Was 5:55pm when he arrived "I have exactly 2 minutes in advantage" "you made it, next time I will let you have a rest" "thanks" he pecked her cheek out of breath "are you ok?" "Yes, you are just breathtaking" he laughed "oh, I am not" "yes, you're. Always" she blushed "thanks" "you're welcome. Can I have a glass of water? The bus stop is far from here, you know?" "Yeah, sure come in". She gave him a glass of water and dropped on the sofa "thanks" "how can I refuse water for someone? Especially someone like you" he arched an eyebrown "someone like me?" "Yeah" "how is someone like me?" he dropped next to her "ridiculously healthy" "oh" he giggled "thanks. I really appreciate" "so, where were you?" "someone is interested in where I was" he teased, she rolled er eyes "you love annoy me, don't you?" "And you still have to ask? Anyhow, I was hanging with a friend" "'hanging with a friend' means banging with a girl?" "What?!" He started laughing "are you jealous or something?" "No..." She blushed "just trying to know you better" "so why are you blushing?" "I..." "Relax, I was with Luke. He is planning a trip to our home country with Ash and Mikey too. So we went out to lunch, but he lives far from here..." her body relaxed and she smiled "Australia is very nice" "is the best place in the world" "yeah, except the fact that is not Minnesota" he laughed "keep dreaming, kid" "I am two months older than you" "whatever, ms. jealousy" "'m not jealous!" "you looked so relieved when I said I was with Luke" "I didn't" "it's ok, I already admitted to myself that my love life is a joke anyways" "I bet it's not true" "trust me, it is" "thought you were the kind of guy that spent the night in 3 parties and in this 3 parties, hook up with at least 2 girls. At the same time" he laughed out loud "oh, honey, I used to be that guy, and now I am feeling very proud of myself" she giggled "why you are not that guy anymore?" He cleaned his throat "well, I met this lady, some months ago, and now all I do is think on her. I made out with someone a few days ago and couldn't finish the job, because was thinking on her" 'wow that hurted' "wow... You should be with this girl right now, not with me" he looked at her, 'unfreakingbelievable' "I literally made an hour and a half trajectory in 40 minutes to go in a concert just to be in your company cause' honestly I am not going to this concert because I want to see old Jon Bon Jovi sing 'bed of roses' and take ladies to Heaven..." she giggled "why do you think I did that?" "'Cause you're an idiot" he grinned "you are right, I should be with the my romantic interest" she frowned a little and they just stayed looking inside each other's eyes for a minute "I-I think we should go" it felt like he raped her with his gaze "are you ok?" "I dunno" "alright, tell me if you will need an ambulance" "okay" "so, where is that bad boy keys?" she chuckled "here" she gave to Calum the key "please, be careful" "my middle name is safety" "really? I thought was Tomas" "details, details". They were on the driveway ready to go when she saw Ginger, her cat, with the paw stuck in the water drainage grid "oh! wait a minute" she left the car "what's wrong?" "My cat. you can back the car while I help Ginger?" "no problem. Am I allowed to listen some music, too?" "Sure. The pen drive is in the glove compartment" "'kay". she ran to Ginger to help her little baby "my God, love, I am here" Calum grabbed the pen drive in the glove compartment and started back the car slowly without looking in the mirrors "well, it's done, Ginger. You are free now" she freed her cat that ran back to the roof. Calum was fighting with the pen drive's USB entrance "why I never put that shit on the right side?" and he forgot that he was backing the car. She turned to went back to the car or they would be late and all she could see was the car's trunk colliding with her hip. When he stopped the
car she was already on the floor. She definitely needed that ambulance now.
He took her to the hospital and then back to her place. He locked the front door and she dropped onto the sofa, now with a broken leg "that was the last time you drove my car" "you're sure?" he joined her on the sofa "you will need someone to help you during the next two weeks" "I have other friends..." "So we are still friends?" "Yes" "I am sorry for ran over you" "yeah, be mad with you will not change what happened" "it's because of this that I will be the one who will take care of you. Remember? My middle name is carefulness" "Wasn't safety?" "Is a long full name, see? Calum Safety-Careful Tomas Hood" "hum, I don't think so" they laughed "sorry, again" "stop apologizing and start looking for a driver costume" "I will not do that" "why not? Would be so sexy" she bit her bottom lip "you think?" "You are already sexy so..." "I'm" they laughed "okay, you don't need a costume, but I will need help in the shower, instead" "I will love to help you with the shower" "I was thinking in call Roy" "call Roy?!" he looked a little angry "you should see your face. And I am the jealous one here" "well, I just maybe, just very very maybe am into you" she smiled and blushed a little "I am into you too" "you are saying that only because do not get turned on by Jon Bon Jovi tonight" she laughed "And you are saying this only because you ran over my leg" he turned his grin to a line "No. I really mean it" "me too" she bit her bottom lip and he smiled again "but… unfortunately, you are not literally into me" "not for too long" soon the distance between them became minimum and in a blink of eye, they kissed. They kissed like already did that for years, like their lips met each other already before, even being the first time. Calum laid her back on the sofa and things started to get hotter, soon her Bon Jovi's tank top flew across the living room. She broke the kiss "what are you doing?" "I am trying to make up, because of the concert. Do you mind?" she smiled "you really know how to fix up the things" and they kissed again, now his black tee was off and...
*
"Honey, 're you alright?" Calum took her off the flashback "oh, yes. Was thinking in the first time we fucked" he laughed "so delicate" "sorry, the first time we 'made love'" "uh, that was bad" she laughed "thanks for ran over me, by the way" "only you for thanks the idiot that ran over you" "well, you are an idiot, but you are my idiot" "possessive" but he was hers and he loved that "oh, shut up" he laughed "so, was thinking in the week after your leg was better, huh?" "That wasn't the first time we fucked" "It was" "no, we fucked after you took me home in the night it happened" "no, no. I fucked you that night and I thought we had fucked, but three weeks later I discovered that I was wrong" "I am not..." "The way you move, babe, when you were with the broken leg wasn't sex with you, was sex for you" she laughed "It should be a compliment?" "Yes. And a good one" "well, in that case, thank you very much" she directed her gaze back to the sky and he looked at her, he was so in love
*
About 30 minutes later, Calum was taking the exit on the road to Santa Monica, she had read that in a sign. "Santa Monica!" "yup" "the pier?" "Yes" "oh, you know I love a pier, is…" "…so romantic" she laughed at him pretending to be her "but, we are not here specifically because of the pier" "so why?" "You will see" "please, stop. It's killing me" "oh, you're such a drama queen" he parked the car and turned off the engine "let's go". He tugged her to the amusement park "that's so exciting! what are we gonna do?" "fucking kid" she giggled "we'll play hockey" "what?!" he guided her to the Playland Arcade "that's..." she was confused that couldn't even talk "there's a lot..." "air hockey tables? yes" "but..." "Look, I know that do not have ice and is not real hockey, but I thought you'd enjoy" he rubbed the side of his neck "hockey remembers you home, right?" she had some water on her eyes and a true smile "I would like everything since it came from you" he smiled and flipped the disk "so, let's see if the Milwaukee girl still in flames" "you definitely know nothing about Winsconsin"
*
She won, of course "Badgers rocked your ass Aussie boy!" as she said, and they decided to rest on the pier, her head on his shoulder and his arm around her body "that was lovely" "me losing or your very kind comment about it?" she giggled "no. You remembered the air hockey here and tried to diminish my homesickness" "I understand how bad it is" "thank you" "no, thank you" "for what?" "To be with me, to love me, I was taking the wrong way before met you, you know?" "Well, shout out to Roy" "shout out to Roy" he repeated and they laughed "I was thinking in buy a ticket for you. To go home for a few days..." she looked into his eyes "what do you think?" "don't" she said smoothly "you sure? I have been saving money to paying the first tax to a car mortgage, but it can wait..." "No, Cal. Buy your car" "but you miss home" "yes, I miss it, but..." she cupped his face "I have you here and I realized... my home is you" he smiled and dipped to kiss her. She rested her head back on his shoulder and watched the moonlight reflecting in the ocean "and you are mine" he whispered against her hair. she smiled and enjoyed his company, she was so in love with him and he was so in love with her.
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stay with me, my darling
Jon nods. Conversation, right. "Tim said- he asked, if there was anything we wanted to tell our future selves. And the- the Gertrude tape I played for you. I was just...thinking."
"That's not a good sign." Martin replies, and it could have had humor in it, another day, another time. But now it's mostly truth.
or: reminiscing, and hope for the future during the apocalypse
thank you @entitynumber5 for this prompt!! I love it and you to bits
ao3 link here!
...
There are moments, right before the nightmares and right after them, when Martin can sleep. There has to be space to breathe, between the fear and dread. How else will you really know what you've lost, know how afraid you are? Or maybe, even now, the fears are bound by the limits of human physiology, the nature of REM sleep and dreams. It's something Jon can't Know, but even if he could. It doesn't matter.
But there is something he could Know, if he wanted to. With Martin within arms reach in the bed next to him, Knowing if he was awake would be as easy as breathing. Maybe easier, now - a reflex, poised and ready just beneath the surface of his skin, just behind his eyes that don't blink as much as they used to.
He doesn't. He owes it to Martin. That sense of normalcy, however small.
Jon takes a breath, holding the compulsion at bay, locked tight in the back of his throat. He'd already slipped up, forced more than one answer out of Martin since they fled from London. Like hell he'll do it again.
"Are you asleep?"
It's no more than a whisper, ragged and sad sounding even to Jon's own ears. But it might as well be a scream compared to the muted terror outside, the solemn creaking of the boards beneath and around them.
It's quiet for a beat, then Martin shifts. He makes a little noise of coming to awareness - the same one he'd made every morning, when there were still mornings to wake up to. Jon didn't think it was possible to feel nostalgia for something that happened so recently. But the pang, the loss of soft morning sunlight and warm blankets and clumsy, sleep-mused hair and hellos sinks deep into his stomach, and he lowercase-k knows he's wrong.
"J'n?" Oh, but his voice still has that quality to it. When he's just woken up, unguarded, a smile when his eyes find Jon. The sound eases just a bit of the awful tightness in his chest. Not much, though, because Martin doesn't smile as he blinks away the sleep from his eyes. He fumbles for his glasses as he sits up, brow furrowed. Jon can't blame him.
"Is something wrong?" Technically a question, but not phrased like one. Martin’s voice matches Jon’s for pitch, quiet and soft.
Jon looks down at his hands, flexes his fingers. His mouth is dry. He feels guilty, for waking Martin up from the only rest he can get for something so silly . But it's hard to distinguish between shades of guilt these days, carved out of his chest and curled up where his lungs should be.
He almost says nevermind, go back to sleep, but that would be worse, waking him up for nothing. And Jon is nothing if not stubborn. Words are hard, but he gets them out.
"I was- I was thinking about the tape, that I...about what Tim said."
Martin sighs. It's not annoyed, or sad. Maybe fond? Jon isn't sure - you could be sure, you could pluck every thought from his head like grapes from a vine. The thing that only watches trills at the thought, buzzing anticipation and thirst filling his skull and he digs his fingernails into his palm until it hurts, stop stop stop-
"Jon?"
"Hm?" He comes back, with the extra volume and concern Martin adds to his name. Had he really drifted that easily, that far, that quickly?
Martin takes one of his hands, unfurling the fingers that he'd clenched. His nails leave crescent moons in the skin of his palm. Martin delicately runs a finger along them as they fade, and it tickles just enough to be both pleasant and distracting. "I said, the one at your birthday? The tape?"
Jon nods. Conversation, right. "Tim said- he asked, if there was anything we wanted to tell our future selves. And the- the Gertrude tape I played for you. I was just...thinking."
"That's not a good sign." Martin replies, and it could have had humor in it, another day, another time. But now it's mostly truth. "Jon-"
Jon shifts to face him. It's not a sudden movement, but it's lightning quick compared to his syrup-thick movements of the last few so-called-days. "I know, I know it's not- it's not healthy to dwell on it, on… It's just… there's so much I would, would tell myself if I could."
"Even if we couldn't avoid all of it. Maybe it could have been easier."
"Jon…"
"Martin, please ." It's the most emotion he's been able to get out of his voice since he stopped sobbing after the statement that got them here. It hurts. It hurts and he knows it's what he deserves.
Just let me have this , he wants to say, but can't bring himself to. He leans forward instead, just barely. Not for any reason other than his head is tired , but Martin pulls him further, touch gentle but firm. He wraps his arms around him, so easily, so Jon's head is resting on his shoulder, eyelashes brushing like butterflies against the crook of his neck.
"Alright, alright. It's okay."
Martin whispers into his hair, and for all Jon can See, he can’t imagine anything that would take the comfort of it away. They stay like that for a moment, a while. There’s a lot that Jon wants to say, and even though he started the conversation he doesn’t know where to begin. Everything is tangled like overgrown weeds in his mind, like boxes of cords with no purpose that sit in jumbled piles, wrapped around the things he’s trying not to Know and the things he wants to forget and the things that hurt to remember. But then Martin breaks the silence for him.
“For one thing, I wouldn’t…" Martin seems hesitant, like he's not sure he should say what he's about to say. "I wouldn't have let Biscuit into the archives.”
Jon stops. It's quiet for a moment, in a way he forgot it could be. Martin stills next to him, anticipating.
“Wh...what?”
Marin breathes out a small chuckle, almost with a nervous edge to it. “Y’know, the dog I let in? On my first day?”
Jon is something close to comfortable against Martin's shoulder. But he can't stop himself from pulling back far enough to see his face.
"You named the dog?”
“Oh,! No, that was on his nametag. Had a phone number too, that’s - that’s how I got him back to his owner."
I love you I love you I-
That might as well have been a decade ago. Jon can’t stop the quirk of lip, however small, at the ridiculousness of it. “I never knew that.”
Martin cocks his head, hint of a wry smile playing at his lips. "Well, yeah, it’s not like I was going to bring it up to you again. You looked like you were going to fire me on sight for weeks.” His face falls, slightly. “Although, I guess you wouldn’t have been able to, even back then."
Jon sighs, heavy as it's dragged out of his lungs. “I would have, though, if I could. All of you.”
The silence is thick, but not unbreakable. So Jon does just that.
"Maybe we could have ended up at a normal office job."
"What, like a...bank, or something?"
Jon smiles, wider, even though it feels like his face forgot how. Like riding a bike, maybe. "Yes, something… dreadfully boring."
"A boring job does sound pretty appealing."
"At least, them, I wouldn't have had to tell myself to stop pushing the whole, skeptic thing." Jon can't help but recall the conversation, in the storage closet with the man in front of him and what should have been certain death waiting outside. Even that seems so much simpler, now.
Martin makes a non-committal sound in the back of his throat. "Maybe I would have told myself to confront you sooner. A-about the statements, I mean. Could have had that whole-"
Martin deepens his voice in what Jon realizes is an imitation "- heart to heart thing sooner."
"I'm not sure if it would have gone over well.” Jon can't help but be honest. Old and new shame bubbles up in his throat, and he has to say something. "Martin, I'm- I'm sorry for the way I acted, back then. I was… god, I was such a prick to you. It wasn't fair, or- or right ."
Martin barely lets him finish before he's saying, "Yeah, you were pretty… prick-ish? I forgive you though. I don't really think about it much anymore, if it means anything.” He breathes out a quiet laugh. “It's kind of funny, actually. In hindsight."
Jon can't stop the look of disbelief. "Really."
Martin smiles. "I mean, yeah? And gosh , you should have heard the things I used to say to Tim and Sasha about you. It wasn't completely one sided."
That catches Jon's attention. "Oh?"
The look on Martin's face isn't quite regret, but it's close. " Any ways-"
"No no, Martin, please , I'd love to know.'' Jon is careful not to phrase it as a question. His voice is quiet, still, but coy. His curiosity is all his own and no one, nothing , else's. He revels in the feeling.
Their hands are entwined on the bed between them. Martin looks down at them as to not meet Jon's eye, but he's smiling, still. "I think I described you as a cactus with twice the spines and half the emotional capacity, once.”
Jon's laugh, soft and brittle as it is, surprises even himself.
Martin looks up at him, encouraged. "Heh- Tim got a kick out of that one."
Tim's laugh, faded like an old photograph in his mind. It hurts to remember, but it would hurt worse to forget. He wish he had that luxury for Sasha. The real Sasha, the stranger who was friends with Tim, friends with him . At least, he hoped she had been. She sounded so lovely.
But, back to Martin. "Yes, well, I can't say you're wrong about that."
Martin sucks in a breath, and Jon freezes under the possibility of upsetting him. But then.
" Oh , Jon- that’s the complete opposite of the truth."
Jon laughs, with less humor. "Martin-"
"No, no, let me finish." Martin takes one of Jon's hands, the burned one, in both of his. "You put up a great front, I'll admit it. But you care so much, even… even though things haven't been easy, or good, or… or fair. You never stopped caring, this whole time. It's obvious now, at least - at least, to me. Even if you don't always say it.”
"You care so, so much and it's - god , it's one of my favorite things about you, Jon."
Something about the way Martin says his name chisels something open in Jon's chest. And not for the first time. Being known, existing to someone else that actually wants him to. There's a reverence to it, the way Martin says it, that Jon knows he doesn't deserve. But he tries to move past that thought and let the sound warm him from the inside out.
Jon whispers Martin's name, quiet and strangled. He hopes it carries the same depth, the same love.
Martin keeps going. "And I - that's why this is so hard for you. I mean - well, of course it's hard, it's pretty fucking terrible, actually - but," Martin sighs. "I know that's why you want to blame yourself for all of this-"
Jon finds his voice, stronger. He's not sure where the sudden energy comes from, but it probably has to do with the knot that's made a home in his ribcage.
"It's not about want , Martin, it's- it's the truth. What else am I supposed to do? I ended the world -"
"Jonah fucking Magnus ended the world, Jon. Not you. He used you."
"I don't really see the difference."
The burst of energy leaves him, water spilling down a drain. This isn't the first time they've talked about this, and it probably won't be the last.
Martin sighs. "I know. But I'll keep telling you, as many times as it takes. Because it's true. And it- it hurts, seeing you like this."
Jon looks at Martin, really looks for the first time in too long. His eyes, tinged grey from his time in the Lonely, dark circles under his eyes, tight lines at the corners of his mouth.
"I'm sorry." He doesn't know what else to say, other than, "I love you."
"No, it's-" Martin shakes his head, just a bit. "I love you, too."
It's quiet for a long moment. Martin lays back down on the bed and gestures for Jon to follow him. Which is easy, for Jon to do. The bed isn't warm, but it isn't cold either, in the strange way that things are and aren't right now. But Martin is warm, Jon can feel, with their legs tangled together and foreheads touching.
Jon won't, can't sleep, but laying next to Martin still feels like rest. In a way.
"Martin." Jon doesn't know why he needs to say Martin's name. It's not like there's anyone else he could be talking to, with less than centimeters between them. But the thing he's about to say is so deeply important to him, and it feels like he needs to.
"I'm… glad," God, his vocabulary always escapes him when he has to speak out loud. Talk about his feelings. "That I got to spend time, with you. Time here."
They haven't left. The cabin still stands, doors and windows, squeaky hinges and leaky faucets intact. But it's not the same, never will be as far as Jon can tell. "The weeks that we had, before- I...I don't think I'm lying when I say it's the first time in a long time that I-"
Felt loved? Felt like a person, again?
"...was happy."
Martin smiles, but it shakes like a leaf in the wind. A tear slips from his eye, dripping slowly over the bridge of his nose.
"Me too."
Jon brushes a kiss, feather light between Martin's eyes, catching the tears and hopefully some, any tiny amount of the sorrow that lives in the lines of his face.
"I could have stayed here forever, like that. With- with you. Just…"
"Living?"
"Yes. Living."
It's not the first time Jon's treated himself to the thought, however far fetched, however foolish. A life, a normal, mundane life in the countryside. Maybe with boring jobs, but not a boring life. Not with Martin here. Not with Martin to wake up next to, to fall asleep with, to walk with to the village. Talking about nothing important but committing every detail to memory. That Martin prefers vanilla over chocolate, that he had a pet goldfish named Larry when he was seven, that he loves dandelions even though they're classified as a weed, who gets to decide what a weed is, anyway, right, Jon?
"The walk to the village is a bit much, but we could manage." Martin's voice is thick. "The shopkeeper already recognizes us."
The mention of a person outside their wooden refuge pulls knowledge unprompted from Jon's mind. He doesn't have the heart to tell Martin she's currently walking through endless identical corridors with identical doors leading nowhere. The lights above her flicker just so, and she swears she sees something out of the corner of her eye, but she turns and there's only off-white walls and beige doors and the sound of footsteps quickening in threatening cadence towards her-
Jon doesn't mean to drift again. But Martin's voice brings him back. Like it always will.
"Plus, we get to see good cows on the way, so it's worth it."
Jon pushes the thoughts away, and smiles. "I suppose you're right." After a breath, he goes on. "Less food to carry from the store if we have a garden."
"Jonathan Sims, a green thumb?"
Jon bristles at the not-quite accusation, but it doesn't quite reach his voice. Too much energy that he doesn't have. "Well, no, not yet. But I always thought it would be nice, to have a garden. I can learn."
"It would be." Martin slips into sincerity so easily. "I'm sure you would grow lovely vegetables."
"And spices, for cooking."
"Of course." Martin sighs, quiet, fond. "A man that can garden and cook, what could I possibly bring to the table?"
"Everything." Jon blurts out without thinking, and stands by it like a beach umbrella buried in the sand. "You're… you're better with your hands, than I am. Like, the door hinge you fixed when we first got here."
"That's not exactly master carpentry, Jon-"
"It doesn't need to be." Jon doesn't give him time to retort. "And your embroidery. It's- it's good, we'll hang it up on the walls and you can teach me how to do it."
Jon already learned embroidery once, technically, from his grandmother. But she had always grown impatient with his impatience, quick to scold him for fidgeting and rushing his stitches. Like it was an exam he was actively failing instead of something you do for fun. It wasn't all bad, not really, but Jon imagines relearning long-forgotten movements under Martin's hand and smile, and it makes him want to buy every spool of thread, every needle he can get his hands on.
"Of course." Martin replies. "We could put up other pictures, too. I've actually- I've, uh, always wanted to get into photography."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. Not for any, real reason, I suppose. Just… seems like it would be fun."
I love you I love you I-
"That sounds like a reason to me."
They go on a bit longer, about pets ( at least one cat, and apparently a species of lizard that Martin is particularly fond of) and colors to paint the bedroom ( something bright but lively, a light blue, maybe) and mugs to buy from the second hand store ( Martin collects novelty mugs, and Jon files that away for later ). Jon knows it’s terrible of him, selfish to revel in this while the world suffers under the weight of its own choking fear.
Later, they'll talk again. A few times. Later, aching sorrow becomes burning anger and drive and they leave with the bags Martin's already packed. But for now, Jon holds Martin's face, and Martin wraps his arms around Jon's waist. Pulling him close, like a ship docked in harbor. And it feels safe.
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“IF”
…
“And now, the assignment,” Mrs. Hother said, returning to her desk among a chorus of groans and boos from the students sitting at their desks. She turned back around, facing them with a wide smile. “Oh, stop. This one will be fun. I promise.”
Jon Snow, sitting in the third row, fourth chair back, doubted that. Mrs. Hother was an enthusiastic teacher, he’d give her that, and she wanted all of her students to love what she clearly loved. But the problem was Mrs. Hother taught 11th grade poetry – a requirement for every student in their high school to take and very, very few kids actually liked 11th grade poetry.
“Now, everyone is going to pick a partner and from this list-” the woman held up a stack of papers in her hand. “You are going to recite it – from memory – in front of the class this Friday.”
This was only met with louder groans and boos. Jon didn’t join in with the noise but he whole-heartedly agreed with his classmates. Reciting a poem in front of the class from memory? That was considered fun?
The Old Gods help him. He hated speaking in front of classes. He had gone to school with all of these people since first grade and he knew just about all of them but for whatever reason, he got up in front of them and forgot every word he had ever known. Last year, he had to give a short presentation on phobias and just showed a five-minute clip from the movie Arachnophobia to get him through it.
“Now, stop your overdramatic reactions,” Mrs. Hother said as she sent to the first chair in each row to hand them the papers so they could be passed out. “This is going to help with vocabulary and figurative language. These both are considered important things to be somewhat competent at out in the real world.”
Jon took the papers and taking one for himself, he passed the last one to the kid sitting behind him. He held the list up, studying it carefully. He recognized a few. He didn’t know them but he recognized them. Robert Frost. Edgar Allan Poe. Emily Dickson. And Shakespeare. Those were all the obvious one. The rest of them, Jon had no idea what they were; how long or how difficult it would be to memorize.
“Now, you pick your partner, you and your partner choose from this list which one you want and you have until Friday to work on it,” Mrs. Hother said with a smile; as if this was the best thing she had ever said. “Now, some of these poems, as you will find are quite long so if a poem has four or more stanzas, you and your partner will only be expected to memorize the first two. Once you pick, come up to see me and I have them on easy printouts for you to work off of.”
Jon immediately looked to one of his best mates, Grenn, who was in this same second-period class. Grenn sat two rows away and was talking with Alys Mors, who sat next to him. When Grenn caught Jon looking at him, he pointed to Alys, and though he wanted to frown and sigh, Jon, instead gave a short nod.
Damn it, Grenn, Jon grumbled silently to himself. It didn’t matter if Grenn had had a crush on Alys Mors forever. Jon needed him more than Alys Mors. But again, he said all of this silently.
With a sigh, Jon looked around at his other classmates, all teaming up together. He then looked to his left; to the seat next to his in the last row against the window.
Sansa Stark was new that year, having moved to Last Hearth and almost immediately caused a stir because she was beautiful and also seemed nice – kind of a rarity when it came to the beautiful girls in high school; at least in Jon’s opinion. He assumed, the first time he saw her on the first day of school, that the popular crowd would snatch her up for themselves immediately. And maybe they had tried but Sansa Stark made it obvious to everyone within the first week that while being so nice to everyone, she also didn’t seem to be interested in making friends.
It wasn’t like he was always watching her but he noticed that she was on her phone often throughout the day, in between classes, and as soon as the final bell rang, she was practically running from the school. He just figured it was something to do with her family or maybe she had an after-school job to get to.
Sansa was looking at the list but feeling eyes on her, she turned her head to Jon. She gave him a small smile and Jon returned it.
“Partners?” He suggested.
“Alright,” she nodded. “Do you have a preference?”
“Something short and easy.”
Sansa laughed at that. “I know most of these. Mrs. Hother did not give us any of those.”
“Of course she didn’t,” he frowned. “Where’s the fun in that?”
She laughed again and Jon noted how light and soft it was. “We can do “IF” by Rudyard Kipling. It’s a good one. It’s long so we just have the first two stanzas to worry about. Unless… do you want to do another one?”
“No,” Jon shook his head quickly. “That sounds like a good one,” he said as if he had any idea what the Hell any of these poems were. And Sansa smiled at him; as if she could read his mind. He smiled a little, too. “Do you want to meet after school and start working on it?”
“I have to go home right after school,” Sansa said and she began to shake her head. “I… I know we do have to work on it though. If you’d want to, you could come over.” She said those words but he could tell that she was unsure about saying them; as if she wasn’t entirely sure that she should be saying them.
“That sounds good,” Jon agreed before he over-analyzed her behavior. “My mom has a divorced women’s support group meeting at our house this evening and except for the good delivery they always get, it’s best to stay away from it. The women have told me they all love me but I’m also a guy so they hate me at the same time, too.”
Sansa smiled and let out a laugh.
Seven Hells this girl was beautiful. He wondered why she didn’t have any friends; or rather, why she didn’t want any. He wondered what she was always looking at on her phone. He wondered where she was always rushing off to every afternoon. He wondered about her.
Maybe Grenn wanting to be partners with Alys Mors wasn’t the worst thing. Now, he was partners with Sansa Stark and no offense to Grenn, but this seemed much better.
“Meet you on the front steps after final bell?” Jon quickly suggested before he could say something really stupid – like telling her how beautiful she was.
Sansa paused for only a moment before she gave a single nod. “Meet you there.”
…
Jon had a car and he drove them to Sansa’s house, he following Sansa’s directions. Her messenger bag was in her lap and he saw the way her fingers curled around the sides of it, her grip growing tighter; as if she was growing more and more nervous for some reason.
“I looked up this poem during lunch,” Jon broke the silence between them. “Thank God we only have to do the first two stanzas.”
Sansa’s lips twitched at that and she turned her head to look at him. “Did you like it?”
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I was more distracted with wondering how I’m going to memorize at least one of these stanzas.”
Sansa didn’t comment on that but she still smiled faintly and looked back out the windshield. “I live with my uncle and aunt,” she said rather suddenly. “My Uncle Benjen and his wife, my Aunt Willa. I…” she took a deep breath and looked at him, Jon glancing at her before back to the road but he let her know that he as definitely listening. “My mom and dad and siblings live in Winterfell. But it was decided that it would be best if I moved up here to live with my aunt and uncle.”
That gave Jon a Hell of a lot more questions but he realized that he was probably the only person at Last Hearth High School to know that about her. Maybe this meant that she would tell him more. He hoped so. Sansa was nice and beautiful and he wanted to know a lot more.
“It’s right up here,” Sansa said, pointing ahead.
It was a gray ranch house with a bright yellow door and white wicker outdoor furniture on the front porch. Jon pulled into the driveway but parked near the end in case someone needed to get in or out of the garage. Sansa looked downright pale now. Well, more pale and Jon wanted to ask her if she was or if he was just imagining it.
He followed her from the car, up the driveway, up the front walkway to the porch and the front door. He saw her as she physically paused with her hand on the doorknob, exhaling a deep breath. She looked at him and Jon began to frown, wondering what the Hell was going on. Did she, with her aunt and uncle murder people and there was going to be dead bodies or their parts all over inside?
“I need you to promise me something,” she then said.
“Alright.” Jon didn’t think about his answer because he didn’t think that he had to.
“It would really mean a lot if you didn’t tell everyone at school about…” she took another deep breath and swallowed. “Just don’t tell anyone about this.”
“About what?”
Sansa didn’t answer. She pushed open the front door and Jon saw that it opened into a small entry way and the living room. The television was on and he heard the television was turned to some cartoon.
“Mama!” He then heard and as Sansa stepped into the house, Jon was able to see more.
The toys on the carpeted floor, the blanket spread out, and the little toddler sitting on it, stretching her arms out for Sansa as soon as she saw her come into the house.
“Hi, baby girl,” Sansa quickly dropped her bag and went straight for the toddler – obviously, her daughter – and scooped her up, kissing her on the cheek. “Oh, I missed you today. Did you miss me today?”
“Yes!” The girl exclaimed, clapping her hands, and Sansa laughed, kissing her cheek again.
She looked back to Jon, who was still standing at the door, seeing what was in front of him but also, not really seeing it at all.
Sansa had a baby? But how? They were in high school.
Well, that’s stupid, Jon, he swore at himself. His mom was eighteen when she had him and Sansa was far from the first teenager in this world to have a baby.
It made sense now. Constantly on the phone between classes, she was probably checking on her daughter. And rushing out of school right as the day ended, she was hurrying to be here. Was this why her parents sent her up to Last Hearth to live?
With the smallest smile, Jon closed the front door behind him.
“Clara, this is Jon. He goes to school with me,” Sansa said. “Can you say hi to Jon?”
The little girl looked at Jon and was still smiling. She looked like Sansa, he noted. Jon smiled back.
“Hi!” She chirped.
Jon’s smile widened. “Hi, Clara.”
She giggled, bringing her hands to her mouth, and Sansa smiled, too. She then looked to Jon and kept smiling. And Jon was grinning like an idiot but he didn’t really care.
…
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lazy river
request: hell yeah prompt list time! kissing john b in the rain for love and longing? love your content btw
summary: it’s been a long time since you’ve been to a water park. jon b knows this, and wants to change that.
pairings: john b. x reader
word count: 1.7k
warnings: super fluffy. real cute. might rot your teeth.
a/n: requests still open! i got an AP exam this week. i also have to finish a create task i’ve had weeks to work on and haven’t, so... wish me luck. big love!
It’s just how you remember it as a child; all funnel cakes and water slides and screaming children and too hot pavement. Exactly where you want to be when summer's in full swing.
Probably the best unofficial date you’ve ever been on.
You don’t know how much money John B. had to save up in order to get you there, but the topping on the cake was his ability to score a free bus ride to and from going with a small church group. You'd never known him to be religious, but it was an eventful ride for the two of you. John B. was playing the role of full blown Christian boy, and it was so hard to hide your smiles and giggles that everyone must've thought you were his even more Christian friend. K-love plagued the speakers, and you and John B. agreed some of it wasn't bad, but most of the kids were insufferably nice, to a point where it was almost disingenuous.
Standing in line with them was a pain, but as soon as you were able to, you two booked it off to the umbrellas, searching desperately for two lounge chairs. Maybe even one at this point. Anything really, until you found a small bunch of chairs left secluded by a family whose child was not having a good time. It was a perfect spot right under the umbrella allowing you to spread your towels out and leave the cooler by the chair.
John B. was fast to attack the food in there; sandwiches, chips, fruits, cheese. You name it and JJ had gotten (stolen) it from somewhere for you two.
“You’re gonna get sick,” you commented, as he scarfed down a sandwich. The smell of sunscreen plagues the area. You rubbed some onto your face. John B. had miraculously thought of everything except spray on sunscreen, so you were forced to either buy some from the gift shop at a ridiculously inflated price, or use the lotion.
“Sick shmick. Do you want to go on some rides?” He says, wiping his dirty hands down on his towel. The towel that was supposed to wipe down his wet body. You grimaced, but then he slipped his shirt off and shimmied off his flip flops. He was so well toned and tan already. You can’t imagine him wanting to get any tanner.
“Yes I do, actually. Can you get my back first?” You say, and wonder if John B. actually forgot the spray on sunscreen or opted for the lotion instead for this reason.
His hands were firm on your shoulders as he applied the sunscreen, rubbing the taut muscle there and going dangerously low down your back. It sends a shiver down your spine and he can so obviously tell because he does it again to gauge your reaction. He ruins it though, by sending you off with a buddy pat on your shoulders.
“Let’s do pirates plunge first,” he said, and it made you smile how excited he got. You wondered how long it’s been for him too.
“No,” you argue, “we have to work our way up to that.”
"Do NOT tell me you're planning on staying in the lazy river the whole time," he said, turning to where the middle aged adults who obliged their children lounged, floating leisurely under bridges and waterfalls. It made him shiver.
"It's a great place to tan," you teased, and he glared at you. You smiled, and stretched upward.
"You want sunscreen?" You ask, and he looks like he's about to say no, but he nods his head yes.
His back is smooth under your hands, and you make sure to lather his shoulders up nicely. You hand him the bottle when you're finished, and he scoffed.
"You only did half," he says.
"You can do the rest," you assure, and he rolls his eyes, squirting a glob of cream onto his palm before smearing it over his chest.
"This kind of half-assery won't be tolerated," he jokes, "I'm going to have to report you to the manager."
"Oh please. You're the king of half-assery."
He gasps as he rubs his palms down his face, leaving streaks of white there.
"How dare you. You're fired." He claims, looking over to one of the smaller two-person slides.
You lean over to him and rub in the white with your thumbs, cupping his face a little. He watches your face the whole time, which, you have to admit, is a little creepy. When you're done, you shove him for good measure, before taking off in the other direction.
The sun beats down hot on your shoulders, and you two spend hours waiting in lines and talking and spending time together. You could see the burn on John B.'s face and expected you were going to feel the burn too later on that night. It was a blessing whenever clouds rolled through the sky, blocking out the sun for a brief period before she cleared them away. The rides were subpar, but you two didn't notice in the slightest, screaming and yelling at each other down the slides and in tubes.
The two of you dodged children and concerned parents and other teenagers, bobbing and weaving in and out of lines. Dripping wet, bodies glistening in the hot sun, you two decided funnel cakes were in order. You stood in line as John B. toweled off by your seats, and he ducked under the belt to stand with you. It got him dirty looks, but he didn't notice.
"When are the church kids leaving?" You pondered, stretching on your tip toes to look in front of John B., trying to catch a glimpse of any of them.
"In like an hour," he says, glancing up at the big clock poised over the food shack. There was only one in the entire park, which must've been good for business.
They were so hot when you got them that the powdered sugar on top was melting. But as you made your way back to your seats, you felt it.
“Oh no,” you whine, the water droplets on your bare shoulder. You turn to look at John B., but his gaze is not with yours. His eyes are on the sky, the grey storm clouds rolling in above. You sigh loudly. It’s not like you’re afraid of getting wet. Of all the places to be when it rains, a water park ranks at least in the top ten. But now all the rides were going to be closed. For god knows how long.
He looked back down at you, grinning, and then noted your crestfallen expression. He pouted.
“Why the long face?” He said, grabbing your chin and shaking it. You jerked away from his grasp to sulk.
“Our day is ruined,” you grumbled, walking down in the direction of your chairs, planted conveniently under one of the large umbrellas.
He jogged to catch up to you, intertwining his hand with yours. He swings it back and forth childishly. If he could, he’d probably skip down the concrete path to your area.
"We have to eat these anyway. It'll probably be done by then," he assured.
Much to your dismay, it was not in fact done by then.
"That bus is probably going to leave early now," you mused, checking the notification app they made all of you download before you left the bus.
“No way. This day’s not over. It’s just getting started,” he said, plucking your phone from your grasp and burying it in the bag he had brought. He left the rest of the conversation to your imagination before he took off running, pulling you in tow.
“Hey!” You cried out, but you couldn’t help the giggle rising out of your throat when he stumbled over his own bare feet a little.
He hushed you as you caught up to him on the side of the lazy river. There was nobody in it. All the employees were at the front entrance of it, escorting people out.
"Wanna do a river run?" He said, slipping down the ladder. Your eyes bulged.
"They're gonna kick us out," you said, hopping in after him anyway. You two stood downstream, and waited for tubes. It only took a few seconds before John B. was passing you one, rain falling on his hair and chest.
"Now it's cold," you complained, but John B. chastised you.
"Stop being a baby. Hang on," he said, standing up for you to grab onto one of the handles of his tube.
The lazy river in the rain was a lot more fun than a lazy river in the sunshine.
It would only be a few minutes before you reached the front of the ride, where all the workers were stuck trying to collect the tubes. John B. was splashing water at you, and shaking your tube to get you to fall out. You return the favor by flipping him over near the waterfall. He came up sputtering, and in return tried to flip your tube as well, but you latched onto his neck. It was easy for him to support your weight in the water, and he grabbed your legs, wrapping them around his waist as the tubes got away from the two of you.
They floated sadly down the river, under the waterfall by themselves.
John B. chased them, hands supporting you, your arms wrapped around his neck.
He moved slowly towards the waterfall, and threatened to throw you under it.
You squealed and pushed yourself up against him as much as you could, cradling his head to your own. If you were going down, so was he.
But he stopped just short. You pulled away just a bit, and he was looking at you, eyes intense, smile bright. Your heart skipped a beat and you swear you saw him move closer. You couldn't help but do the same.
Until his lips were on yours, moving in sync with you, rain pelting your bodies. His hands were firm underneath you, and you knew he wouldn't let you fall. It had been so long since you realized you wanted to kiss him for the first time. You could settle for him kissing you.
"I love you, you know that?" He remarked. You thought it was sweet, until he tossed you under the waterfall. You swear you could hear his laugh from under the water.
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day one: favourite character
This is my first entry for the @tmanostalgiaweek because the finale left a hole in my heart and I needed to write stuff. Enjoy!
Jon didn’t sleep a wink all night
Because of insomnia? No. Because he hated sleeping? No.
Because during the night some Instagram meme pages kept him too much company?
Absolutely yes.
It was almost an habit: coming home from work, going to bed and watching memes with monkeys and dogs until late night.
But he was in the archive, dragging his feet across the corridor with eyebags darker than an ink spot and a frown that touched the floor.
He just kept walking, praying silently asked him…
-Good morning, boss!- Tim’s voice shook him like a lightning directly into his veins. -How are you?-
Jon replied with a low, tired grunt, slamming his office’s door begging to drown in his chair as soon as possible.
Diving deep, drowning.
Basically, dying in the plastic fabric of the chair.
He sat down heavily, taking his head between his hands and passing his fingers trough his hair. He was twisting them around the phalanges as if they were nets thrown into the stagnant water, trying to think as fast as possible a solution.
He definitely couldn’t just sit there and take a nap, the pile of statements on his desk was judging him with his eyes made of papers and notes taken with a glitter pink pen, but he couldn’t move a muscle without crying and because he knew that when he was sleepy he could make...you know? Error on errors on errors, something very unprofessional that could have put him in troubles.
Because everything was a disaster and God was dead.
He had an headache. But not the kind of “pneumatic hammer at six o'clock in the morning” headache, but something more subtle, that crawls from the temples to the centre of the skull like an industrial press, the one that makes you close your eyes and stay still until it stops.
He could feel his eyes dry as dried plums pinned skewered in the head.
Next time, phone locked in a box before bed, okay?
He took a deep breath, massaging her temples slowly.
-Alright, maybe I have an idea- he muttered to himself, going through his jacket pocket to get his old cell phone and the headphoneThe music was like snake oil, at least for him. He put on his headphones and all thes all tangled.
The music was like snake oil, at least for him. He put on his headphones and all thoughts became liquid, he put on his headphones and everything became full of colours.
Maybe he could try.
-Just two songs- said to himself. -And then I’ll start-
He opened his cell phone, putting on the first energetic music playlist that he so liked to pretend to despise and vaguely hearing the music coming to his ears.
It was weird, how the volume was always too low.
But maybe his headphones were broken.
Tim had the superpower to recognize any Ariana Grande song after about ten seconds.
Sure, it wasn’t the most useful power, but he used that ability many times during his life.
And that time was one of them.
Sitting on his chair, he was going through some papers, the ones he was researching on, when the first notes of Dangerous Woman started to fly in the air like bubbles.
He threw a look at Sasha, sitting on a chair next to his.
-Are you hearing it too?- asked, with the voice of someone that knew he was right but needed a confirm. Maybe he was just losing his head.
Sasha lifted her head from the document she was researching on, fixing the glasses on her nose with a dubious expression. -Yes? It’s like Ariana Grande-.
-Yeah but- Tim looked around, meeting Martin’s gaze. -Where does it come from?-
-Jon’s office, I think- neither Martin, the good old Martin, was sure of that.
The song, however, continued to go on.
It wasn’t annoying, it was just...weird.
Weird, that was the right word.
They tried to keep their ears open, when the confirm struck them like a lightning.
It was coming from Jon’s office.
They looked at each others with embarrassment, unsure on what to do.
-What he’s doing?- Sasha didn’t talk to him all morning, she was late and she started to work immediately, and in addition no one ever knew with certainty what the hell was going on in the head of their boss.
So every hypothesis was good.
-For me it’s an error, it must be his ringtone- proposed Martin.
-He forgot to put the headphones’ jack in the phone- Tim leaned with confidence to the back of the chair, squinting his eyes. -I saw him this morning, he seemed very tired. More than usual, anyway-.
You always had to trust Tim, because he knew all about Jon.
Everyone nodded.
-But we have to say something to him, don’t we?- proposed the good old Martin after a few minutes, shining eyes full of wonder while he was listening to the music from the office at the end of the corridor.
-I think he’d die of embarrassment, he will notice it alone at some point- Sasha simply shrugged her shoulders, heading back to the document. -I’d let it drop-.
She wasn’t wrong.
She was never wrong.
-But if Elias comes he’ll be in troubles- replied Tim .
-Yeah. Someone has to tell him something- Martin made a pause. -But we have to decide who-.
Needless to say, the other two gazed at him with decision in their eyes.
-Oh no, guys- Martin put his hands in front of him, which resulted in the fall of a pair of pens from his desk. -I’m not going there-.
Martin found himself knocking at the office’s door.
Because he was a loser, that’s why.
Every time that he gazed back to his colleagues, there were always encouraging signs and fakes smiles, while the entire Ariana Grande’s discography was going ahead without any pause and even louder.
Martin hated Ariana Grande, but he knocked again.
Knocking and knocking and knocking.
Until he realized the door was open.
He opened it slowly, founding himself in a club where the only things missed were the dancers and the alcohol, replaced by papers full of stories and a water bottle full of warm water.
Jon had his headphones on, smiling quietly like he was actually having fun.
Martin’s heart started to aching, like if all of his ribs where trying to stop it from jumping outside his chest.
He was having so much fun, what a pity.
But hey, it was necessary.
Martin went in without announcing himself, staying there with his six feet of embarrassment in front of the door.
At the same moment, his boss tilted his head, stopping the music and taking off the headphones from his head.
He scaled him from head to toe with his big hazel eyes, wit confusion infused in his dark pupils and yet another pout that immediately replaced that half-smile.
The jack, Martin noted, was actually disconnected.
-What is it, Martin? - Jon stood up on the chair, as if he had been struck by a flash of seriousness, tapping his fingers on the desk.
-I...umh…- got to that point, he didn’t know how to proceed. He always had the bad habit of leaving everything down in the middle.
Jon raised his eyebrows in an impatient expression. -So?-.
-No, well. I was saying- Martin had to be brave. He was his boss, yes, but he was an human, first of all.
-You were saying…?-
-Your headphones. Are disconnected from the phone. We heard the music. It wasn’t annoying or anything, Tim likes Ariana Grande an everything but, if Elias comes or stuff like that…- he left the sentence hanging, noticing the terror and embarrassment flowing through the man on the desk’s annoyed expression.
He looked at the phone, then at the headphones, and realized.
Realization crawled out like a snake and sat down on his face, leaving him with uncertain eyes.
-Fuck. Sorry? Sorry. I didn’t notice...sorry. Sorry- he managed to murmur, immediately lowering the eyes, leaving a thick fog of awkwardness fill his lungs and coming out in small laughs.
he wasn’t used to being embarrassed.
-No, no. It’s nothing, really- Martin didn’t understand shit anymore.
He was already ready for his healthy daily dose of scolding, sarcastic comments and all the rest, but an apology? In this economy?
That wasn’t planned.
-Nice. Again, sorry. I’m just a little...slow, this morning. Had a bad night-. He always had the bad habit to mess up with apologies. Over explain everything.
-I understand- Martin cut short everything, making a small smile. -I’m sorry I didn’t knock-
-Sorry for the music-
-Sorry again-
-Sorry-
-I’m going to finish the thing you asked me to, the one about the haunted book- Martin proceeded backwards, without stopping to look at the other just to notice the tiny changes on his face.
From a bored grimace he started to smile in a nervous way, and now he seemed almost relaxed.
Amazing, how emotions can so quickly paint the human face in a thousand of different shades.
-Sure. Thanks- Jon made the tiniest smile, taking a statement from the big pile.
Martin took the door, coming back to his desk, between the applause of the other two, who had observed the door literally fearing the worst.
He sat down, and sighed.
There were no notes in the air.
But Jon, in his small and silent office, was blushing like a pepper.
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leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic
Tumblr tag || Also on AO3.
Chapter 39: Tim
Of course they don’t believe it. Of course they don’t. Setting aside the fact that Elias Bouchard is a rat bastard who lies like a cheap rug, never mind that Sasha’s attempt to call failed (and it’s not just hers, or just a one-off thing; Martin and Tim both try. Twice), they don’t believe the message because both Tim and Martin know, with a certainty that has nothing to do with the Eye and everything to do with the last several months, that Jon would never go out of town on an errand without letting them know first. He would at least call them to say he was leaving.
Jon Prime assures them that it’s probably fine. Well, maybe assures is the wrong word. He tells them that it’s probably fine, but he sounds uncertain and Tim doesn’t believe him either. They don’t ask what could be going on, not at first; as Martin Prime said, this isn’t the Primes’ story anymore and asking what happened to you is unproductive. The best they can do is put their heads down, plunge ahead with work, and hope.
That lasts about three days.
On Friday afternoon, Sasha comes back from lunch with a funny look on her face and something cradled in her hands, which she sets wordlessly on Tim’s desk. It’s a phone, cracked and battered, looking like it’s been dropped and run over a couple of times. Martin manages to turn it on, and they’re greeted with a cracked, warped picture of two men and a little boy staring raptly at the sky, all three of them utterly content despite everything life has thrown at them. They stare at it for a couple seconds before the phone fizzles and shuts off with a final-sounding pop.
Hope dies with Jon’s phone, and Tim shuts down a little. He spends the rest of the day looking at Gertrude’s tapes, squinting fiercely at them, drawing on every scrap of power he can, trying desperately to see through the green to the colors beneath. The best he’s able to do is sort them into piles that are sort of the same color blend, and it leaves him shaky, drained, and irritable. That night he sits up at the kitchen table with the box of Gertrude’s books they’ve never actually gone through and carefully, methodically, sorts them out. He tries to look at them, too, the way he did the tapes, but either he’s too tired or they don’t actually have anything of any of the powers on them. Instead, he begins going through them, one at a time, notebook and tape recorder set up in front of him as he jots down observations, notes, anything that might be helpful.
He doesn’t know what he’s looking for, other than the generic “answers”. Something that might provide a lead to where Jon is, he guesses, even though in the back of his mind he can’t imagine why something like that would be in something belonging to Gertrude Robinson. Maybe there’s a part of him that suspects Jon is off on some madcap adventure, that he dropped his phone like Tim forgot his, and that if they can only find a clue to where he is they’ll be able to find him and get him home.
He’s at it all weekend, and by Monday, he’s frustrated and angry about the lack of answers. When Sasha asks him why there are fifteen piles of tapes instead of only fourteen, he snaps at her and can’t bring himself to apologize for his tone as he tells her that the fifteenth is the ones he isn’t sure about, the ones he can’t tell the underneath color of.
Sasha doesn’t react to his tone. She simply shrugs, points at the Document Storage room, and tells him to go listen to some of them then.
Tim is annoyed with her, at first, but three tapes later he realizes he’s stopped shaking. He’s still upset, but he’s not so angry, and he’s definitely feeling a bit stronger than before. It’s only then that it occurs to him how much energy he’s been using. And it’s not until he comes out, ready to apologize for his temper, that he realizes how pale and drawn Martin looks and it occurs to him that he hasn’t slept since Friday. Which, apparently, means Martin hasn’t either.
Martin confirms as much that night, while he’s making tea for them both (Tim only realizes then he’s been drinking Martin’s tea all weekend without even noticing). He says he’s tried, a couple of times, but he can’t seem to rest for worrying, both about Jon and about Tim, which makes him feel horrible. Tim actually goes to bed that night instead of working himself to exhaustion over the books, and he and Martin both manage to get some rest even though they’re both horribly conscious of the fact that there’s something—someone—missing from their bed.
It’s not until almost lunchtime on Tuesday that the little voice in the back of Tim’s brain asks him when it became their bed rather than his bed.
After that, he tries to get back to work, tries to buckle down to doing their duty—Jon will be back, he tells himself, and they’ve got to keep things moving for him—but he’s distracted, and from the way Martin’s eyes keep drifting to Jon’s closed office door, he knows Martin feels the same. And while they’re trying to talk about it, they’re both still tense.
By the time Jon’s been gone almost two full weeks, Tim decides he’s had enough. He glances at the clock on the corner of his laptop, then shuts it with a snap that startles the other two and pushes back from his desk.
“I can’t stand this,” he says, barely controlling his tone. “I’m going to run this down.”
Martin seems to understand. He closes his own laptop. “I’m coming with you.”
“Martin—”
“No. I’ve been—I need to know, too. And I need to hear it directly, I think. Otherwise—” Martin shakes his head.
Tim thinks he understands what Martin isn’t saying. “Sasha, can you hold things down up here?”
Sasha nods, her eyes sympathetic. Tim manages a half-smile, then heads over to the trapdoor.
The Primes are in the middle of eating—probably breakfast, given their odd sleep schedule—but Jon Prime looks up when the light of Martin’s torch plays through the door and sets aside his plate. “Tim. Martin. Any word?”
“No. Nothing.” Tim hesitates, trying to figure out how to phrase it, or even what it is he’s there to ask.
Martin beats him to it. “We were hoping you could tell us where he is.”
“I don’t—I can’t be sure,” Jon Prime says gently. “Things aren’t—”
“No, we’re not asking where you were this time around,” Martin says, unusually to the point for once, which either shows how comfortable he’s grown with them all or how absolutely stressed and terrified he is. “We’re asking if you can—Know where he is.”
“Oh,” Jon Prime says softly.
Martin keeps talking, words tumbling out almost desperately. “We’ve been—we were trying to figure it out, if, if he left on his own after all and just dropped his phone, maybe if there was some clue. But there’s nothing. Sasha tried to Know—”
“When?” Tim asks, surprised.
“Yesterday, when you were picking up lunch. But she couldn’t find him. She’s not sure if it’s just because it’s the wrong kind of Knowing or if it’s because she’s not strong enough or what, but—” Martin gestures helplessly with both hands, making the torchlight bob about. “It’s been two weeks. And we can’t—we need to know if he’s okay.”
Martin Prime touches Jon Prime’s shoulder gently. “I think he’ll forgive you for looking, Jon. I know you’re trying not to, but…if it was me, I’d want to know you were okay. Remember…” His face darkens slightly.
Jon Prime turns and hugs Martin Prime tightly, and Tim’s stomach lurches. He remembers the day after Jane Prentiss’ attack, when the Primes gave them the basic rundown of everything that happened to them—remembers Jon Prime mentioning being kidnapped and held prisoner by Nikola Orsinov. Could that…? No. No, he can’t let himself imagine…
Oh, God, Jon’s been kidnapped.
The thought must hit Martin at the same time, because he reaches over and grips Tim’s hand tightly. Tim squeezes back as hard as he can. It seems like an eternity before Jon Prime whispers, “All right. All right.”
He eases back from Martin Prime, straightens up, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. Static fills the little room, softly at first, then louder and louder. Tim isn’t trying to look, he isn’t, but apparently the Eye’s power is too strong with Jon Prime calling on it like this, because he sees the glow, Jon Prime’s closed eyes and a third eye on his forehead and another on the back of each hand, all glowing green, faintly at first, then a bit stronger. Not as strong as Tim might have expected if he’d been expecting it at all, but bright anyway.
Jon Prime’s eyebrows knit in a frown. The static fizzles out, the glow fades, and when Jon Prime opens his eyes, they’re perfectly normal, if worried. “I can’t See him.”
“The tunnels—” Martin Prime begins, his own expression worried.
“Make it more difficult, but not impossible. And I’m a bit…hungry, I suppose, so that might—but I should at least be able to see something.” Jon Prime looks up at Tim and Martin. “He’s not dead. I’d Know that. But—but I don’t have anything more than that. I’m sorry.”
Martin makes a small sound of distress, then screws his face up tightly for a moment before huffing out a sigh and squaring his shoulders. His eyes are wet when he opens them. “But you know—he’s been kidnapped, hasn’t he. Orsinov’s got him.” It’s not a question.
“I—I don’t know that for sure,” Jon Prime stammers. “I—it’s possible, but I—but we can’t know that for sure. Not right now.”
“F-fine. Fine! We don’t know, but we’re pretty sure, right? So—so where would she be holding him?”
“I told you, I can’t—”
“I’m not asking you to use the Eye! I’m asking where she was holding you.”
Jon Prime inhales sharply, but Martin Prime wraps an arm around his shoulder and pulls him close and answers first. “What could you do with that knowledge, Martin? The police aren’t going to do a raid based on your say-so. Not so soon after the Brodie operation, not with so little to go on. Not for a missing adult. Especially if Elias has a good story to spin them about where he is.”
Martin sputters. Tim clenches his jaw. “Yeah, but we can go after him.”
“No!” the Primes shout in near-unison. Tim and Martin both jerk back in surprise.
“First of all, we don’t know for sure that’s where he is, or who has him,” Jon Prime says, a bit more calmly. “If you walk into the Stranger’s domain and he’s not there, what then? You’ve tipped your hand, again, that you know where they are. The Unknowing isn’t going to be ready for another five months, and where I was held was where they planned to do it. Gertrude had a—a reputation for stopping rituals, by the end, so the Stranger might move the site to somewhere else, and it might be harder to find.”
“And that’s assuming,” Martin Prime adds sharply, “that they let you leave at all. You’ve managed to escape them twice, Tim, there’s no way they’ll let you walk away a third time unchallenged. And if the Not-Diana left the memory of the original Diana in your mind, Martin, you’re marked by the Stranger, too. It’s going to be that much harder for you to get in unnoticed, let alone get out unnoticed, especially not with the Archivist. If he’s there.”
“We’ve got to try,” Martin says angrily. “We can’t just let him suffer because—”
“You think he’ll suffer less if you get hurt? Or killed?” Martin Prime interrupts. “And—okay, fine, say you don’t. Say you get in and out unscathed. If he’s not there, you really think they’ll risk holding him for another five months? They’ll kill him then and there rather than risk you finding him and disrupting her plans for the Unknowing.”
“Martin,” Jon Prime says, sounding pained. He lays a hand on Martin Prime’s arm, but Martin Prime shrugs him off.
“Do you honestly think I don’t know how much it hurts?” Martin Prime’s voice cracks at that. “What it’s like not knowing where he is but knowing he’s probably in danger and you can’t do anything about it? You think I wouldn’t have given everything to know where to find him? But if you’re wrong and he dies, I know what it’ll do to you.”
Jon Prime wraps his arms around Martin Prime; Martin Prime resists for a moment, then slumps and clings to Jon Prime in return. Tim, slightly numb and feeling like the bottom has dropped out of his stomach, sees a few tears squeeze their way out of the corners of Martin Prime’s eyes.
He’s not wrong, that’s the hell of it. As badly as Tim wants to storm…wherever it is, as much as he desperately wants Jon to come home, he knows Martin Prime is right. They can’t risk putting Jon in danger by going to the wrong place to rescue him, and the Stranger is probably almost as bad as the Spiral about misdirection and concealment. Until they’re sure, or as close to sure as they can be, they can’t chance it. And more than that, Tim knows he can’t risk putting Martin in danger. He hadn’t thought about Martin being marked by the Stranger, but now that the thought’s in his mind…he refuses to lose anyone else to that thing. Refuses. Scylla and Charybdis for sure.
“At least wait until we’re sure,” Jon Prime says. He looks over at Tim and Martin, and Tim can see how much pain he’s in, how utterly scared he is. He knows, more than the rest of them, what Jon might be going through and he probably feels it down to his toes, as much as he feels their pain. And that’s assuming the Eye isn’t channeling all their fear through him also. “Once the Institute is closed for the weekend. Maybe I can get better…reception aboveground, in the Archives, closer to the Eye. Consume a statement or two or something, but—please. Don’t risk it until we know exactly where he is.”
Tim looks over at Martin, sees the conflicted look and the suspiciously wet brightness in his eyes, his lips pressed tightly together in an evident bid to stop them from shaking. He’s going to follow Martin’s lead on this one. Martin stares at the Primes for a long moment, then nods once and hisses out a single word. “Fine.”
“Okay,” Jon Prime says softly. “Okay.” He closes his eyes and drops his head onto Martin Prime’s shoulder.
“We’ll see you after hours then,” Tim manages. He reaches for Martin’s arm, but Martin jerks away and simply leads the way out of the tunnels without speaking. He’s pale and shaking and way more upset than even Tim would expect, even knowing how Martin feels about Jon, and he doesn’t know what to do about it.
Sasha looks up when they come out of the trapdoor, but evidently they don’t need to say anything, because a series of emotions plays over her face and her shoulders slump. Tim shakes his head anyway. Martin stops at his desk long enough to set the heavy-duty torch on it. “I need to—I’ll be back.”
“Martin—” Tim’s heart seizes. He grabs Martin’s arm, fear coursing through him. He let Jon go out alone and Jon—
“I’m not leaving the building, Tim, I just—I need to walk for a minute.” Martin looks at him and his face softens. He squeezes Tim’s arm with his other hand before removing it from his own. “I promise. Not going outside.”
“Okay,” Tim says softly. “I’ll wait for you.”
As soon as Martin leaves, Tim drops to his seat and sighs. “They’re not sure where he is. Jon Prime said he’d come up after we close and see what he can do.”
Sasha glances at her computer. “That won’t be long.”
The door to the Archives opens, and Tim looks up, preparing to try and tease Martin about his short walk. It’s not Martin who comes in, though, but Basira. She raises an eyebrow at Sasha. “Hey. What’s with your friend?”
“Martin? He’s…it’s a long story.” Sasha gestures at Jon’s closed office door. “Jon’s been missing for a couple weeks now.”
“Hm. Wouldn’t have figured him for the flaky type.” Basira slips her hands into her pockets. “Came to see if you wanted to grab a drink. Been a hell of a week.”
“You, too, huh?” Sasha glances hesitantly at Tim. “I’d love to, but you mind waiting a bit? We’re technically here another twenty minutes.”
“Nah, you go ahead,” Tim tells her. “Martin and I can close down here. Take some time. You deserve it.”
Basira grunts. “You think he’ll be back in time? Where’s he heading?”
Tim rubs his forehead. “Probably up to the library to torture himself by dealing with the Not-Diana. I love him, but he’s so damn prone to punishing himself for things he doesn’t need to.”
Sasha gives Tim a funny look that he’s too tired and stressed to really parse out, but only says, “If you’re sure. Might want to make sure those kids are out of here by closing time if the others are coming up.”
“What—oh, right.” Tim honestly forgot about the pair of students back in the stacks doing research for some joint project. They first came the day before, but several of the cases they need are on tape and one or two of them are live statements; Tim keeps meaning to do transcripts of those, but hasn’t got around to it yet. They’ve been so quiet he honestly hasn’t thought about them since they walked in earlier that afternoon. “Didn’t realize they were still here, but yeah, don’t worry. Have fun.”
“Sure. Have a good weekend, Tim.” Sasha pats his shoulder, shrugs into her jacket, and heads out the door with Basira. Tim watches them go, glad Sasha has a friend, then heads back into the shelves looking for the students.
They’re not hard to find, seated at one of the tables tucked in an odd bend in the Archives, which is scattered with books, papers, and a small stack of cassette tapes. Sitting on the table between them is a battered white plastic tape player that looks exactly like the one Tim had when he was three—rounded at the edges, with a soft rubber grip at the handle, brightly-colored buttons on top, and two tiny microphones with coiled cords, one on either side. Plugged into the headphone jack is an adapter, then a splitter, then two pairs of headphones leading to the two students, who are listening intently and alternately scribbling in a notebook they’re passing back and forth.
One of them looks up and spots Tim coming closer, then pokes the other and points at him. The other sees Tim and hits the big red button on top of the recorder, stopping the playback with a loud CLUNK.
“Getting close to closing time, guys,” Tim says.
“Aww, it’s just getting to the good part,” one of them complains with a humorous texture to her voice. Tim’s pretty sure she introduced herself as Helena.
The other one gives him pleading puppy dog eyes. “Can we just finish listening to this tape? I don’t know how much we have left in it, but it’s the last one that—um, Martin—pulled for us. We’re almost done. Please?”
Jaz, Tim remembers. With one Z. He’ll be the first to admit he was a hair distracted when they turned up yesterday, but Jaz is a distinct enough name that it’s stuck in his mind. “Sure, no problem. We can wait around until you’re finished.”
“Thanks.” Jaz flashes him a grin and returns to the notebook. Helena pushes the bright green PLAY button and they go back to listening.
As Tim turns away, he happens to catch a glimpse of the last note in the shared notebook—judging by the color of the ink, Jaz is the one who wrote it. Bet this guy’s as hot as his voice.
He suppresses a smile, even as his heart aches, as he heads back to his desk.
Martin’s still not back, and Sasha didn’t finish putting her files away before she left, so Tim busies himself for a minute neatening everyone’s stacks. After a moment’s thought, he tucks the files into their drawers. It will make things easier in the long run. He hopes.
He packs up his laptop and is about to start on Martin’s when something…twists. It’s the best way he can phrase it. It’s like the worst tinnitus he’s ever had, but outside his head rather than inside his ear, and it makes his head pound. He looks up in time to see a glowing yellow door in the wall suddenly open and Martin comes stumbling out, chased by warped, weirdly echoing laughter that makes the headache worse.
“Tim. Run,” Martin gasps. “We have to—go.”
“Why? What’s going on?” Tim’s stomach lurches, even as his headache subsides.
“The Not-Diana. It’s coming, Tim.”
“This way.” Tim grabs Martin’s arm and starts towards the door leading directly to the grounds, then pulls up short. “Shit. Those kids.”
“Wh—oh, God.” Martin turns pale. “They’re still here?”
Tim takes off in the direction of the two students, Martin hard on his heels. “Jaz! Helena!”
They don’t answer, but Tim rounds the corner just as their tape player shuts off. Jaz pulls off their headphones and looks up. “Oh, hey, we just finished—”
“Time to go,” Tim cuts them off.
“Yeah, just let us pack up—”
“No, now. You can come back and get all this later, but right now, we’ve got to evacuate.”
Helena’s eyebrows go up. “Is there a fire? I didn’t hear the alarm.”
“No, just—” Tim begins.
“Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaartiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin…”
The voice from the direction of the stairs sounds like Diana’s—or at least the Diana Tim remembers, which means it’s the Not-Diana—but distorted, warped. Martin turns, somehow, even paler.
Jaz’s eyes widen. “What the fuck?”
“Yeah, going. Going sounds good.” Helena starts to push back from the table, then stops and mutters something that sounds very much like “Horror Movie 101” before slithering out of her seat and sliding under the table.
“Good girl,” Tim mutters. “Let’s go. Quietly.”
Jaz grabs Helena’s arm as she crawls out from under the table. Tim leads them as quickly and quietly as he can towards the exit. They can probably get there, and if they’re outside, they’ve got a better chance, but down here without cameras, he doesn’t want to risk whatever might happen.
“Maaaaaartiiiiiiiiin,” the Not-Diana sings out again. “Come out, come out, wherever you are…I just want to thank you, that’s all.”
There’s a rustle from up ahead. Tim checks and shoos the others in a different direction, which means Martin is leading now, the two students still between them. Maybe they’ve got a better chance with Martin in the lead, him having lived in the Archives for so long…Tim sincerely hopes that Martin’s still got his mental map of escape routes. Surely he has one.
“It’s okay, Martin, it’s just Diana,” the Not-Diana calls, voice gooey with insincere reassurance. “Kind old Diana. Nothing to be afraid of.”
Helena is muttering under her breath, something Tim can’t quite catch or understand, but it’s probably a mantra or a prayer given the panicked look in her eyes. Martin halts at a gap in the shelves, looks both ways, then indicates for the others to come with him.
“You seem tense, dear.” The Not-Diana’s voice is impossibly close, coming from absolutely the wrong direction to have been where it was before. “You should have a nice cup of tea. You like tea, don’t you? Always the tea.”
They’re at one of the intersections where the shelves branch off, the gap between the nineteenth and twentieth century statements. Martin glances over his shoulder, then points to the left. “Go. That way. Should be able to get out. I’ll draw it off, it’s me it wants—”
“Absolutely not!” Tim hisses through clenched teeth. “I’m not leaving you to that thing—”
“I’m going to wear you, Martin,” the Not Diana calls. Ice water runs down Tim’s spine. “I’m going to wear everything you are. Like you never existed. Nobody will even know. And it will hurt, oh, yes. It hurt Diana.”
“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,” Jaz whispers, clutching Helena’s arm hard enough it has to hurt.
“Yeah, definitely not leaving you to it now. Come on.” Tim grabs Martin’s arm and drags him with them to the left.
A tall, twisted figure suddenly looms up at the end of the row they’re running down. To Tim’s eyes, it’s bathed in a glow of indigo light, almost bright enough to drown out the green on the shelves around it. “There you are. And you brought friends.”
Helena screams. Tim skids to a halt, pivots, and shoves the other three ahead of him. “Run, run, run!”
Menacing laughter follows them as they try to flee. Tim’s mind whirls as they stumble desperately towards what he hopes is freedom. Diana never comes down to the Archives, unless the Not-Them has been exploring when nobody else is around. It might be at a disadvantage, not knowing the place like they do. Or maybe not. Beholder versus Stranger, the known versus the unknown…something with centuries of experience versus two people with eight months’ worth of knowledge and two university kids who’ve barely scratched the surface of all of this. He honestly can’t say which way this is going to go.
“I’m glad we’re getting to run, Martin,” the Not-Diana says. “It makes this so much more…satisfying.”
Document Storage is up ahead, but Tim’s not about to lead them in there; if that thing follows them, they’ll be trapped in there, and it kills Martin. Of course, it’s perfectly possible, even logical, that it will kill Tim and the two students too, but he’s not sure if it would feel worse to have to watch it tear Martin to pieces and then live with that for the rest of his life. Actually, screw that, he knows that will be infinitely worse and he isn’t going to risk it. Instead, he steers them towards the steps. It’s not optimal, he really doesn’t want to lead this thing up to the main floor if people are still up there, especially since he has no idea how this thing got past them all (oh, God, he hopes it was too intent on going after Martin to worry about anyone else), but it’s better than nothing.
Except there’s an open expanse between the end of the shelves and the steps, no cover, and Tim hesitates three rows back, not sure if they can make it.
“I knew it would be you, in the end.” The Not-Diana sounds satisfied and delighted, its voice somewhat distant, and Tim fervently hopes it stays away. “Always so helpful, always so eager. Anything to get approval, to show you deserve to be there…”
“Shut up,” Tim grinds out. Martin shushes him.
“It’s a shame you’ll miss the Unknowing,” the Not-Diana says. “You would have loved to see it. But oh, maybe you will be there after all. Won’t you be a lovely partner for the Dance?”
Anything is better than nothing. Tim gets the other three moving again.
“And I can wear you to find your Archivist.” The Not-Diana laughs, cruel and malicious. “Oh, yes, I know where he is, and of course he hopes for a rescue. Won’t he be surprised when kind, helpful Martin is the one to skin him in the end?”
Martin lets out a frightened half-gasp, half-sob. Jaz’s chest heaves with panicked, stuttering breaths. Fear and fury mingle in Tim’s chest and he starts wishing he had a weapon of some kind, but he’ll tear this thing apart with his bare hands if he has to. For right now, though, his primary focus is on getting Martin, Helena, and Jaz away.
“Tunnels,” he gasps to Martin. It’s their last hope. Not a great one, but it’s better than nothing.
They break from the shelves and dash for the trapdoor. Martin flings it open and shoos the others down it; Tim grabs his arm as he passes, forcing him to come with. “Not leaving you behind,” he grinds out.
Their terrified breathing echoes in the tight confines of the stairwell, and somebody swears in what Tim thinks might be Portuguese as they evidently miss their step. He fumbles for his phone, thinking any light is better than nothing, when a torchlight beam suddenly sweeps the ground in front of them. Helena screams, louder this time.
“Tim? Martin? What’s going on?” Jon Prime sounds concerned.
“You can’t escape me now.” Not-Diana’s voice floats down from behind them. Tim throws a frightened glance over his shoulder and sees the shaft of light from the Archives, blocked by a shadow, spill down the steps; the light abruptly vanishes. “Nowhere left to hide.”
“Shit,” Martin Prime hisses.
“Get behind me, all of you.” Jon Prime strides past Tim, sounding determined.
Tim grabs Martin and drags him forward, then finds the two students and pulls them all into a tight huddle. He and Martin do their best to shield Jaz and Helena from the Not-Diana, and Tim can only hope it will be enough.
“I see you,” the Not-Diana sing-songs, then hisses. “You!”
“Leave them alone.” Jon Prime’s voice is low and laden with menace, the way it was when Breekon and Hope first came to the Archives.
“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be—” The Not-Diana sucks in a breath. “You’re not Jon. What are you? What have you done?”
“Feel the pain of your victims.” Static builds as Jon Prime speaks, and the green glow builds. Like before, it starts with eyes, but not just Jon’s real ones, not just two or three extra ones—eye upon eye, popping into existence around him, all glowing brighter and brighter green and staring directly at the Not-Diana with an intensity that makes Tim’s entire being hurt. He squeezes his eyes shut and holds onto Martin and the students tighter.
“No, please,” the Not-Diana begs. “I’m sorry—”
“Understand it,” Jon Prime continues. The static is growing in intensity. “You have drawn out so much despair, and now, finally, it is your turn.”
“Don’t—I’m sorry,” the Not-Diana says. Then its voice changes, something higher, softer-pitched, with a roll to the R’s. “Please—don’t hurt me, please!”
Martin gasps again, and Tim realizes it’s the original Diana’s voice. The thing that stole her life is using her last words to plead for mercy, or perhaps to get one last taste of fear from them. It fills him with rage, and he guesses, from the intensity of Jon Prime’s next words that he’s thinking the same. “You have never truly understood. So much more suffering than you have ever known, and now—you will know. Ceaseless Watcher, turn your gaze upon this wretched thing.”
There’s a loud, high-pitched, discordant squeal that Tim can feel in his teeth. The green glow is so bright, so intense, that Tim can see it in detail even with his eyes—his real eyes, anyway—closed: hundreds of eyes forming the shape of a person, some floating around the head like a crown, others hovering around it like an arch, and one huge one appearing from behind, like a giant peering through the window of a house, and in between them, stretching and shifting and twisting into all sorts of humanoid shapes, a rapidly dimming glow of indigo. A roar mingled with a scream echoes through the tunnels, and then—
Silence. Darkness. Nothing but the ringing in Tim’s ears and someone hyperventilating.
He opens his eyes and eases up his grip on the others. Jon Prime stands where he was, unmoving, shoulders stiff, staring at the spot where—Tim assumes—the Not-Diana was a moment before.
“What,” Jaz says, voice shaking, “and I cannot stress this enough, the fuck.”
“We’re alive, we’re alive, oh, my God, we’re alive, I thought we were dead,” Helena whispers.
Jon Prime relaxes, at least marginally, and turns around to look at them. He seems…normal is the best way Tim can think of it. There’s nothing in his eyes but concern. “Is everyone all right?”
“I think so,” Tim says, uncertainly. His body aches like he’s been kayaking all day, and he’s still definitely more than a little terrified. The mental image of Jon being skinned alive by something pretending to be Martin isn’t going to leave his mind for a good long while. But, as Helena said, they’re alive. And nobody appears to be injured.
“Is it, um, is it safe to get our stuff and go now?” Jaz asks.
“Yes,” Jon Prime says without hesitation. “There’s nothing else out there. Not now.”
“Um. Good? Thank you?”
Jon Prime leads them out of the tunnels; Martin Prime brings up the rear. Once they’ve all emerged into the Archives, Helena turns to Tim and Martin, looking a bit hesitant. “I…think we got everything we need? We’ll, um, we’ll be back to let you know how the project goes, if that’s okay.”
“That’s fine,” Martin says softly. “We’d like to hear about it.”
“Okay. Cool. We’ll just—get our stuff and go then.” Helena pauses. “We didn’t rewind the last tape, but—”
Tim can’t help the bark of laughter that slips out. “We’ll take care of it. Don’t worry.”
Helena nods and turns away. Jaz starts to follow, then stops and looks back. “Thank you. For saving us.”
“Of course,” Jon Prime says quietly.
The two students head back into the shelves to get their things. As they go, Tim hears Helena whisper, “You were right, he is hot.”
“Oh, my God, Helena, shut up,” Jaz hisses, elbowing Helena sharply.
None of them speak, or indeed move, except for Martin Prime stepping over and resting his hand on Jon Prime’s back. Once the door closes behind the two students, though, Jon Prime whirls on Tim and Martin. “What did you do?”
Tim is about to deny that he did anything, then decides to accept blame; after all, it’s logical that it would be him, and while he doesn’t know what precipitated all of this, it can’t be that bad. Before he can, Martin speaks up in a small voice. “It wasn’t Tim. It was me.”
“Martin?” Jon Prime says in amazement, turning to look at him.
Martin crosses his arms over his chest. “It just—I know I shouldn’t have, I know what you said, but I was just—I was so angry. I felt so helpless. Knowing Jon’s in danger and we can’t do anything about it, a-and just, just the not knowing, it’s getting to me. And all I could think about was just—everything the Stranger’s done. What it did to Tim, what it’s doing to Jon, what it did to your Sasha—what it did to you. It just all boiled up. I-I went up to Artifact Storage and…and the table was there, and…”
“We told you what happened when I destroyed it,” Jon Prime says.
“I know! I just—I thought maybe if I did something different, it would…” Martin takes a deep breath. “I had Jon’s lighter, the one with the spiderweb design on it, I-I don’t know how it got in my pocket, but it was there. I thought it was a recorder at first. Then I pulled it out and—and I lit it and…it went up so fast. It was weird, it just—it caught and it burned and I had to jump back, and I was just thinking God, that was stupid when the fire went out and it was just a pile of ash and…”
“Martin.”
“I know. I know. It was stupid. You should be angry.” Martin isn’t looking at Jon Prime, though. He’s looking at Tim.
And he’s right, Tim should be angry. He wants to be angry. Martin’s expression says he wants Tim to be angry, too—no, he expects Tim to be angry.
Instead of yelling, Tim steps forward and pulls Martin into a hug.
Martin clings to him tightly, burying his face in Tim’s shoulder. Tim feels hot tears soaking into his shirt as Martin cries silently and gathers him closer, one hand cupping the back of his head and the other at the small of his back. He starts crying, too, as it finally sinks in how close a call it was. How close they both came to dying—worse, how close Martin came to dying.
“Non posso perderti anche io,” he whispers. “Please, Martin.”
“Sorry. I’m sorry,” Martin half-sobs, half-gasps. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t—I’m sorry.”
Martin doesn’t speak Italian, but he probably doesn’t need to. And Tim doesn’t say it’s okay, because it isn’t. It isn’t and they both know it. But what he does say, and what is equally true, is, “I forgive you.”
After a few minutes, they pull themselves together and separate. Tim’s face feels sticky and hot, and Martin’s is still blotchy, but they’re mostly okay. Martin snags a couple tissues off his desk and tentatively offers one to Tim, who accepts and turns to see the Primes holding one another, their foreheads resting together. Jon Prime looks…conflicted is the best way Tim can think of to phrase it. He guesses it has to do with Martin having destroyed the table and unthinkingly freed the Not-Them.
Martin evidently thinks the same thing, because he clears his throat. “I’m—I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” Jon Prime murmurs. He takes a deep breath and opens his eyes. “Well…maybe it is. This time. But I’m starting to think a lot more things are inevitable than we previously thought. Someone would have let it out eventually.” He lets his hands slide off Martin Prime’s shoulders and takes a half-step back.
Martin Prime lets him go with obvious reluctance. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine, Martin. Honest.” Jon Prime gives him a fond smile, then squares his shoulders. “Right. Let’s see about finding your Jon now.”
A guilty look crosses Martin’s face. “You don’t—I mean, after—you’re not tired or—or drained?”
“No,” Jon Prime says quietly. “I’m feeling rather…full, actually.”
“You—oh.” Tim swallows. “That was, ah—that was pretty—it was a lot. Did you know you could do that?”
“Yes and no. I’ve done it before, just…not here. The first time was Peter Lukas, and it was actually in the Lonely’s domain rather than, well, the real world. All the other times I’ve done that were after the world ended.” Jon Prime huffs. “To be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure it would work. Especially down in the tunnels, even with the trapdoor still open.”
“It was looking over the Not-Diana’s shoulder,” Tim says slowly, remembering the light show. “It was—it Saw, all right.”
Martin touches Tim’s shoulder softly, almost hesitantly; Tim reaches up to grab it and holds on tight. Martin Prime’s lips are in a flat line. “What would you have done if it hadn’t worked, Jon?”
“Tried to lure it deeper into the tunnels,” Jon Prime says, obviously trying for casual, but there’s a worried look in his eyes again, like he knows Martin Prime isn’t going to like his answer, which he probably isn’t. “Draw it away from all of you, give you a chance to escape. Leitner’s still down there somewhere with that damned book of his, he’d—probably have trapped it in the end. It would have been all right.”
Martin shivers. “She—it said it was going to wear me for the Dance.”
“It said what?” Jon Prime growls.
Tim hesitates. “Do—actually, do you want our statements?”
For a second, Jon Prime looks like he’s considering that, then shakes his head. “No. No, not right now. I don’t want to overdo it, and that was…a lot, considering I’m not quite as close to the Eye as I was. I at least need to siphon off a bit of power first. Let me take a look for your Jon.”
He rolls his head from one side to another, squares his shoulders, and takes another deep breath, closing his eyes. Again there’s the rush of static, again the glow, sudden, swift, and bright. Tim tries to stop himself from seeing it, but it’s too much and he’s too tired, and then it’s not just the Eye glowing on Jon Prime but all his other marks as well, some barely visible beneath the green and others impossible to miss. Faint hints of old marks still cling to Martin Prime, and Tim doesn’t want to look at Martin, doesn’t want to expose his trauma, but Martin wraps his arms around Tim from behind like he knows Tim’s about to collapse, which he probably does because it’s Martin, and Tim clings to his arms and closes his eyes tightly, but he can still see the green…
And then the static rushes out, as suddenly as it came, and the glow fades. Tim gasps as the last of his energy drains away, and he sags against Martin’s chest. God, he’s worn out.
“So?” he says tiredly. “Where is he?”
The look in Jon Prime’s eyes—mingled sympathy and fear—tells Tim the answer, even before he says, “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know,” Tim repeats. “After all that—you still don’t know?”
“I’m not omnipotent, Tim. I never was, even after the world ended. There will always be things that are beyond my knowledge, things I can’t just see. Blind spots.” Jon Prime hesitates. “I can—there are four that I can see. He’s in one of them, I can guess that much, I just—don’t know which one. He might be at the Waxworks, the one I was held at. He might also be in the Trophy Room—it’s shielded from the Eye, they’re still using it. They may have only stopped in our time because I questioned Sarah Baldwin directly. He might be in Wales—the Gwydir Forest—h-have you listened to that tape yet?”
“No,” Tim and Martin say in unison.
“I suppose it’s in the ones Basira gave you. Somewhere. Or Elias may have had it, I suppose, he’s the one who sent it to me, but…anyway. That’s a blind spot as well. I-I thought it had burned to the ground, but evidently something survived.”
Tim waits for a moment for him to continue, then prompts, “And?”
“Hmm?”
“You said there were four you could see. Or—not see. Where’s the fourth?”
Jon Prime winces. “You won’t like it.”
The bottom drops out of Tim’s stomach, and he’s even more thankful for Martin holding him up. “Covent Garden Theater.”
“Yes. It—th-they must still be using it, Tim. I’m so sorry.”
Martin’s arms tighten around Tim, and he gives a ragged sigh. “We—we can’t. It’s too dangerous, you’re right. W-we can’t take the risk. If we pick the wrong one…either he dies, or we do.”
Tim closes his eyes for a moment. He wonders how he has any tears left after the evening he’s just had. “But you can’t—is he okay?”
“He’s…alive.” Jon Prime inhales quickly. “Scared. M-maybe not the most scared he’s ever been, but definitely in the top five. I know what they did to me, but I can’t tell you for sure if that’s what they’re doing to him. It’s too…muted. Hidden. I have a strong suspicion that the only reason I can see as much as I can is because in some ways, he is still me. We’ve still got some connection, so it’s like looking for a part of myself. But I can tell you he’s alive.”
“I guess that’ll have to do,” Tim mutters.
“At least for the weekend,” Martin says. “We—we can regroup on Monday. Ask Sasha—oh, God, Sasha—”
“Left just after you did,” Tim assures him. “Basira invited her out for drinks.”
Martin Prime, who’s been unusually silent, gives a small laugh. “I always kind of wondered if they’d have been friends.”
Tim tries to stand on his own, but his knees buckle and Martin catches him. “Ugh. Think we can take one of those unmarked tapes home?”
“Yeah, sit down and I’ll grab a couple.” Martin eases Tim into his chair and brushes a light kiss against his forehead, seemingly without noticing, before heading over to the neatly sorted piles of tapes. A moment later he comes back and offers Tim his hand like nothing happened. “Come on. Let’s go home. You need food, a statement, and bed, not necessarily in that order.”
“No, that order sounds perfect, actually,” Tim mumbles. He lets Martin pull him to his feet and leans against him heavily, then looks at the Primes. “Thank you, by the way. For…everything.”
Jon Prime gives him a look of understanding. “I only wish it could have been more.”
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Second chances - Damian Wayne x reader
A/n: Hey guys. How are you all doing in this quarantine? Hope everyone is doing well and staying safe at home. If you'd like to request me anything feel free to ask, I write for all of the batboys (Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian) and Wally West too.
Hope you like this one!
Requested: no
Warnings: mentions of cheating
Summary: Damian has been neglecting his girlfriend lately, and she was tired of it, assuming the worse, she decides maybe it is time to leave him
Word count: 1.762
You were tired, so tired of everything. The way he acted, the way he didn't care, the way he never showed up anymore, the way he made you from his top priority to not even making to the list of important things anymore. You were tired of Damian Wayne.
You stared yourself in the mirror, as you applied some makeup for the day. From the corner of your eye, you saw him enter your shared bedroom, moving around to get dressed. You didn't bother to say anything, you knew he would either ignore you or say something that would only further hurt your feelings. So you kept quiet.
"What are you doing tonight?" he asked, not looking you in the eyes as he tied his shoes
"Nothing important. Why?"
"We should have dinner. Together."
You kew better than to get your hopes high, he would do this to you all the time lately. Tell you to have dinner, or lunch, trying to schedule something to make up for what he was doing, but then he wouldn't show up or would arrive hours later, leaving you all alone at a restaurant full of people looking at you with pity in their eyes.
"If you actually show up then I guess we could have dinner together."
He frowned, turning to look at you. "What is that supposed to mean?"
You sighted, clearly tired of this "This is your last chance, Damian. I am tired of this game you're playing with me. If you don't show up tonight, don't even bother ever showing up again, we will be done."
And with that you grabbed your purse, leaving the apartment to go to work. Praying that what you said would make some difference, but you knew it wouldn't.
Three hours sitting at the restaurant all alone. Three hours chatting with the waiter who was kind enough to ask you how you were doing. Three hours of wasted time.
You arrived home, pulling off your heels and heading to the bedroom. You turned back, locking the door and all the windows. Then proceeded to do your night routine, wash off the makeup and take care of your skin before laying in bed to sleep.
When you woke up the next day, there was still an empty spot beside you in bed. You looked around, the room was exactly the way you left it the night before, proving you he hadn't been home. You wondered if he did that because he was spending the night with someone else.
You took a deep breath. There were tears in your eyes, but you knew you had to do it. You told him yesterday that you two would be over if he didn't show up at dinner.
Getting dressed, you packed all of your clothes and belongings. You were done with his shit. Done with letting him hurt you and allowing him to think it was ok.
Damian arrived home with an unlocked door and a very silent apartment. He didn't mind, you were probably asleep and forgot to lock the door - typically you, caring so little about safety.
He took a trip to the kitchen, deciding to eat something before patrol tonight. He was tired and all he wanted was to nap a little by your side, that would be nice.
After having a quick snack, Damian went to the bedroom, ready to lay in bed with you, but he was frozen when he entered the room. It was... empty? You weren't napping in bed, and the bathroom light was out, so you weren't there either. Where were you then? Is that why the door was unlocked when he arrived? Someone had been here before him and took you hostage? Oh fuck.
He tried not to panic, but where is his beloved?
He looked around, noticing your cellphone wasn't there as well and none of your makeup were lying on the counter. He frowned, opening the wardrobe and noticing that only his clothes were there. Did you leave? Oh God, you left. You left him.
"This is your last chance, Damian. I am tired of this game you're playing with me. If you don't show up tonight, don't even bother ever showing up again, we will be done."
Your words echoed through his mind, he was a big asshole. Who knows where you are right now, if you're even safe.
He fishes his phone out of his pocket. There was something that had to be done, you couldn't just be gone, like that.
"Grayson, I need your assistance with something."
"Sure, what's up little D?" The older brother replied cheerful, always delighted when one of his brother called him for help
"It appears that I haven't been a good boyfriend lately and y/n left me." Damian said, rather ashamed of himself for that "And now I need to know where she is so I can ask for forgiveness."
"Uh, y/n what?" Dick couldn't believe in what he just heard, you left Damian and now where no where to be seen "Oh my God. How are you? What happened? Do you want to talk? You know what, I'm coming over."
Damian sighted, clearly irritated.
"There is no time for this sentimental stuff. I don't know where she is, I don't know when she left, for all I know she could be in danger right now."
"You're right, you're right. I'm going to call Tim so he can track her and then text you the address."
"Thank you."
And with that, all there was left to do was wait.
An hour later, Damian was standing in front of an apartment. It wasn't one of the nicest ones, and it made his stomach turns as he though of how unsafe this was. God, what were you doing here? Couldn't you have gone to a better place.
He knocked on the door, waiting for it to be opened. Hands placed inside of his coat's pockets, heart racing.
"Oh, hello." a friend of yours opened the door, clearly surprised to see him here "Can I help you with something?"
"Yes. I am here to see y/n, if you could tell here I am here."
"Sure, just - uh, hang on a second."
She closed the door on his face. He sighted, of course she wouldn't let him in before asking you if you wanted to see him. That made his heart stop, what if you didn't want to see him? What was he going to do? Just leave and accept that he lost you because of his own mistakes?
The door was opened one more time, but instead of your friend's face, he was met with yours. You looked good, there was no signal of you having been injured and that calmed his nerves just a little bit. But you did not look happy to see him at all.
"Hi. Come in, please."
As he entered the apartment, he saw your friend grabbing her purse, shooting you a look. You nodded your head, watching her leave the place and allowing you to some privacy.
You sat on the couch, watching him with narrow eyes. He knew that look all too well, it was the same look you'd give him every time you were angry or there was something pissing you off - like that time Jon thought it would be a good idea to show up in your fire scape at 3 am because he was nearby and decided to visit.
"Beloved..." you scrunched up your nose at the nickname, that was not a good start "I am so sorry."
"For what exactly are you sorry for?"
He gulped. You aren't just mad, you are furious.
"For everything." He replied, but that didn't seem enough as you kept staring at him like he was some inconvenience "I am sorry for not giving you enough attention, for acting like I don't care. I am sorry for ditching you lately and not being around. I am sorry for not listening to you when you warned me a few days ago. I am sorry for noticing what I was doing sooner, and I am sorry I only showed up now."
You nodded your head, but didn't say anything. Your arms were crossed and your lips in angry pout. Damian considered crossing the room to smooth the wrinkles in between your brows, but decided against it, you would probably slap his hands away and he did not need any proof that you didn't wan him around you.
"Can we please move past this? Go back to the way we were?"
"You mean me being ditched when you're doing god knows what?" You asked, venom dripping from every word
"You know what I am doing, beloved."
You shook your head "No, I don't because you won't talk to me anymore. For all I know you could have been cheating on me all of those times you didn't show up and didn't sleep at home."
He was shocked at that. His jaw dropped before he regained control of his facial expressions. Is that what you are thinking? Is that what he lead you to think? That he was some cheap cheater?
"What? No! I would never ever do this to you, you hear me? Never! I would rather give up on being Robin than ever cheating on you. I love you more than I have ever loved anyone in my life, beloved."
"Well, you have a very funny way of showing it, don't you?" You arched one of your brows
He looked down at his hands, ashamed of his actions. You both silent. Was there anything left to be said?
"What are we going to do?" he asked quietly
You though for a while.
"I am going to give a chance, Damian." he looked up at that, a smile starting to blossom "But you are going to have to prove to me that you really want and deserve this chance." he nodded, eagerly "I am not going back to the apartment with you, not right now."
"I understand this, beloved. I promise you, you will not regret this decision."
You smiled "Good."
He smiled right back at you, heart finally falling back into a normal rhythm.
"Now, would you like to accompany me to dinner?"
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Mistletoe
Daminette December Day Nineteen
No one knew how long Damian had been dating his mystery girlfriend. In fact, no one knew anything about Damian’s mystery girlfriend other than the fact that she existed. The fact that they knew that much was a miracle in and of itself, revealed to them through a combination of Dick’s stubborn persistence and Damian slipping up for once in his life.
Concerned at his seeming total disinterest in romance, Dick had approached Damian about the topic, complete with several pamphlets on different sexualities, as well as a book on how to initiate dating. When this first occurred, Damian had merely brushed off his brother, claiming that he was able to figure it out on his own.
Dick didn’t take well to that, instead inundating Damian’s life with the cursed pamphlets. Damian found them in Robin’s utility belt, at his place setting at the dining table, and shoved into every crevice of his school bag. Damian didn’t know about the last one until he actually got to class, opening his bag only to have the pamphlets spill all over his desk.
He was furious. Only Jon had seen anything, but that didn’t stop Damian from shoving the evidence into his bag and storming away from the school, even if it was still first period.
Dick had gone back to Bludhaven the night before, so it scared the life out of him when Damian came crashing into his apartment. He had been catching up on sleep, so he screamed girlishly before his eyes focused on Damian. “What are you doing here, Little D?”
Damian threw the pamphlets at his brother, seething with rage. “I told you I am FINE, Grayson. I don’t need your damn pamphlets.”
“Listen, Damian, I’m just concerned. You might be ace, and that’s perfectly fine, I support you in that. I just think with your particular upbringing that your sexuality might have been repressed, so I wanted to--”
“I DO NOT NEED YOUR HELP WITH MY SEXUALITY. I AM VERY HAPPY WITH MY GIRLFRIEND, GRAYSON. THANK YOU FOR NOTHING,” Damian yelled, shaking his brother by the shirt.
Dick’e eyes lit up like a child on Christmas morning. “Did you just say girlfriend, Damian? You have a girlfriend? What’s her name? Where did you meet her? Did you--”
“Goodbye, Grayson,” Damian said, escaping before Dick could get anything further out of him.
When he was a good distance away from Dick’s apartment, Damian went into an alleyway, kicking a brick wall. He sulked a few moments before reluctantly pulling out his phone.
It rang a few times before Damian’s favorite voice answered in French. “Damian? Shouldn’t you be in class?”
“You should also be in class if I remember correctly, Angel,” Damian responded, feeling a bit calmer already.
“We were let out early today, and this is a great way to celebrate. But I doubt your school let you out this early. What’s wrong, Dames?”
He sighed deeply. “I slipped up. I may have accidentally told my eldest brother about you.”
“You’re the only one that thinks that is a tragedy, Dames. I honestly thought you would have told your family months ago. My parents are practically planning our wedding already.”
“I know, but your family is different,” Damian said, pouting a bit. “I just… I just wanted to keep you to myself for now.”
“That’s sweet, Dames, but I’d like to meet them eventually,” Marinette laughed. “Now I have an excuse.”
Now the Wayne household was preparing for Damian’s mystery girlfriend’s arrival, and each member was handling it differently. Damian had spent most of the time threatening the lives of his siblings, while Jason and Tim were busy updating the betting pool about Damian’s mystery girlfriend. Dick followed Damian around, chirping dating advice. Meanwhile, Stephanie and Barbara spent their time hanging copious amounts of mistletoe around the house.
When the doorbell rang, everyone froze. The only sound was Alfred answering the door and speaking to the person lowly before coming into the parlor. “A guest for Master Damian has arrived.”
Every resident watched with bated breath as a young girl stepped into view. She was around Damian’s age, and she was--
“She’s adorable!” Stephanie exploded.
“How much is Damian paying you to act like you’re his girlfriend?” Jason demanded.
Everyone began speaking at once, and the girl backed away a bit, eyes widening. The girls kept talking at Marinette, but she couldn’t hear them over Jason and Tim arguing or Damian yelling at Dick. Marinette was ready to walk right back outside until Alfred clapped his hands, his usually calm exterior tainted with disapproval. “You’re disgracing the Wayne family, you should all be ashamed of the way you’re treating your guest.”
All heads bowed and apologies were murmured before Damian finally pushed Dick away, an uncharacteristic smile gracing his face. “You made it here safely, Angel.”
Marinette finally grinned, her face lighting up the room. “Dames! It’s good to see you!”
Stephanie leaned over to Barbara. “Is that a French accent I hear?”
“Come into the parlour, I suppose if you’re here you have to meet my family,” Damian said, not without regret. “I didn’t realize that your English had gotten so good.”
As the girl stepped into the room, Stephanie and Barbara watched her like a hawk, waiting for the inevitable moment that Marinette would step under the mistletoe. It was almost impossible to avoid if you were paying attention, so the girls didn’t expect to be waiting long.
“I made Adrien practice with me almost non-stop since I knew I was coming here,” the girl said, making her way into the room. She was clearly immersed in the conversation, but she managed to subtly weave her way through the mistletoe like it was some kind of maze. “He hasn’t been to America, but he’s fluent and it seems to have worked well enough. I couldn’t get rid of the accent, though.”
“If I may be so bold, I would like to state that the young lady speaks beautifully,” Alfred said, somehow magically procuring a tea tray. “Just where in France are you from, Miss…”
“Oh, I’m Marinette, I guess I forgot about that part,” the girl said, blushing as she settled onto a couch, somehow still avoiding the mistletoe. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and I’m from Paris.”
Introductions were made, and Marinette somehow fit into the family flawlessly. However, no matter what they did, Marinette somehow avoided the mistletoe.
It was Stephanie that broke first. “Is Damian paying you or something? Just stand under the mistletoe already!”
“There’s mistletoe?” Marinette glanced up, the picture of surprise. They would have bought it, too, but there was something too sharp in her eyes, too cunning. “Oh, none of your animals can get to it, can they Dames? It’s poisonous, I would hate for anything to happen to one of your animals! Titus is a pretty large dog, isn’t he? Jerry is probably safe, but Pennyworth! Oh, I hadn’t even considered Pennyworth, what if he climbed up the curtains and--”
Marinette’s worries were interrupted by Jason’s laughing. He laughed hard and deep before sighing. “Demon Spawn does have a girlfriend, I’m amazed. No actress would care so much about his stupid pets.”
“On that note, I believe we have overstayed our welcome. We will have time to see our guest more throughout her stay, but in the meantime I believe Master Damian and Miss Marinette would appreciate some time to themselves,” Alfred said, collecting empty tea cups.
Marinette watched as the butler shepherded the rest of the occupants out. When she turned to Damian, her smile was knowing. “Your family is a bit overwhelming at first, but they’re actually quite fun, not miserable like you describe.”
“They’re all completely ridiculous,” Damian huffed. “And they were far too monopolizing of you.”
“Oh, that’s why you’re so upset,” Marinette teased, lightly jabbing him in the side. “I meant what I said about the mistletoe, but your pets are safe for the moment. Want to make good use of it before Alfred makes the others clean it up?”
“Have I mentioned that I love you?”
Taglist:
@daminette-december2019 @cravethosecrazysquares @krispydefendorpolice @thesunanditsangel @sonif50 @kris-pines04 @persephonebutkore @tbehartoo @corabeth11 @caffeinetheory @drarryismylife101 @bluerosette23 @weird-pale-blonde-person @mystery-5-5 @heaven428 @thethirdwheelfriend @thetinymoonflower @interobanginyourmom @chocolate1721 @akana-sama @skyel0ve @katiegardneriscoolerthanyou
A day late, but it happens. I’m going to try to get these out on time, but who knows what will happen. In other news, I’ve posted the prologue of the Jasonette fic that I’m writing to celebrate having 100+ followers. However, at the rate you guys are going, chapter one is going to celebrate me having 200 followers, I’m amazed by you guys! Until next time!
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soft touches
here is another one of my original works! i spend a while writing this during classes and it really means a lot. it’s quite personal to me bc this is the kind of life i’d want with a s/o, though it is implied to be a boy x girl relationship. hope you like it!
female oc (skyla) x male oc (mason)
summery: life can easily get stressful, but having a loving boyfriend to come home to makes things a lot easier
word count: ~3.09k
warnings: language, insecurities, suggestive mentions, unbearable amounts of fluff
Rain pelted Skyla’s car as she drove home from college. She was absolutely exhausted. She hadn’t slept well the night before because Mason’s insomnia was keeping him up. And when he didn’t sleep, neither did she. But she had classes and band practice after school, which explained why she was coming home at seven thirty at night.
She stopped at the stop sign and hummed along to the song playing from her phone. She was just about home. Hopefully, Mason wasn’t working late. If he was, she might not wait up for him. She’d probably just take a shower, eat something, and go to sleep.
Skyla took a left turn and drove slowly through the neighborhood. It was dark and also pouring rain, so it’s not like anyone was out and about. Still, she had always been a careful driver.
When she pulled into the driveway of the house she shared with her boyfriend and his best friend, she felt her heart flutter at the sight of Mason’s car in it’s spot. She put her car into park and turned her lights and her wipers off. She made sure everything electronic wouldn’t risk getting wet before opening the car door and opening up her umbrella.
She ran through the mud, which was a mistake because her boots got muddy, as well as mud splashing up on her sweatpants. She groaned and fumbled with her key as she held her umbrella with one hand. She finally unlocked the door and walked inside, shaking her umbrella off outside the door before shutting it and locking it again. She took her boots off and put her umbrella by the door before walking out of the mud room, stepping over the wet puddles from other people walking in and out of the house.
“Mase?” she called through the quiet house. She walked into the bedroom first to put her backpack down and saw no sign of him. So she walked into the kitchen and saw him cooking at the stove with his back to her. She smirked and walked up behind him, wrapping her arms around him from behind. “Hi, baby.”
“Hi, honey,” Mason replied, stirring whatever was cooking. “How was your day?”
She shrugged, rubbing her thumb on his stomach and giving him a small squeeze. “It was okay. I’m really tired, though.”
“Yeah… sorry for keeping you up last night.”
But Skyla quickly shook her head, saying, “Don’t apologize. It’s okay. I didn’t mind.” She quickly slipped her hands under his hoodie and squeezed around his waist.
“Yeah?” Mason sounded a bit shaky now as Skyla’s hands were beginning to drift downwards.
“Yeah,” she whispered into his ear as best she could. She was around five inches shorter than him. “I really liked it.” The tips of her fingers brushed his jeans.
Mason’s breathing got more uneven and he stopped stirring. “Fuck baby.”
“What?” she asked, her knuckles now under the waistband. “Something the matter?”
But Mason just made a hot, frustrated groan that made heat strike Skyla’s tummy. She was about to reach what she wanted before Mason grabbed her hand and shoved her against the counter, pinning her hands to the stone. “What’s wrong, baby? Your hands were going somewhere they’re not supposed to,” Mason mumbled, his lips inches from hers.
Skyla started to lean forward, but Mason squeezed her wrists and she stopped. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”
“Have you?”
She nodded, trapping her bottom lip between her teeth. “Yeah. All day. You’re really distracting.”
Mason laughed and leaned closer, their noses now brushing. “Can’t I get a kiss first?”
And so she leaned forward and kissed her boyfriend hard. One of his hands drifted up to her throat and he squeezed, earning a whine out of her. He bit her lip and slowly pulled away. His blue eyes were dark and hooded as he looked over her face.
“Pretty,” he said before kissing her again, pushing her hips back against the counter with his own hips. Skyla tried to move her hands, but Mason’s grip tightened and he squeezed harder on her throat for five seconds before letting go completely and moving his hand to tangle into her hair.
When they finally had to pull away, Skyla was hot and blushing. “I have to take a shower.”
“Can I join you?” Mason asked.
“Please.” And he let her go, giving her a smack on the ass as she made her way to the bathroom.
~*~
“I’m glad that Blake isn’t here,” Skyla said after their shower, walking back into the kitchen in Mason’s t-shirt and athletic shorts. “He’s...not here, is he?”
Mason laughed and went back to the stove. Her heart fluttered. “No. If he was here, I wouldn’t have let you be as loud as you were.”
Skyla blushed, turning her head to the side. “Where is he, anyway?”
“On a date with Charlotte,” he answered, turning the stove off.
“When am I gonna be able to meet her?” she asked, swinging her legs on the counter, pulling at the promise ring on her finger. “Every time she’s been over, I’ve been at school or work. Does she exist or are you and Blake just lying to me?”
Mason laughed again and turned to her. “She’s real. Maybe we can all go on a double date sometime.”
“Yeah, that would be fun,” Skyla hummed thoughtfully. Thunder rumbled outside and she glanced out the window. It was still raining, but it seemed like it was raining harder now.
“Hey. Are you hungry?”
Skyla turned back to her boyfriend and nodded, grinning. “Starving. I didn’t eat breakfast or lunch--” and then she stopped herself. She fucked up. She fucked up bad.
Mason put the bowl down and slowly approached her. “You haven’t eaten all day?”
“No,” she mumbled, avoiding his concerned eye contact. “I was running late this morning and I just forgot to get lunch because I was finishing homework…”
“Baby,” Mason whispered in that sweet tone that made her melt. “You’ve been forgetting to eat a lot lately. Is everything okay?”
Skyla nodded and leaned into Mason’s hand as he placed it on the side of her face. “I’m fine.” And she was. She had honestly just been forgetting to eat. Besides, it’s not like she had been too hungry recently. “Promise.”
Mason leaned forward and kissed her forehead, pushing her wet bangs out of the way. She smiled gently and wrapped her arms around his middle, hugging him and pulling him closer. He laughed a little as he stumbled and wrapped his arms around her back, his hands resting on her lower back.
“I love you,” she whispered into his shirt, pressing her head against his chest. His heart was beating steadily until it suddenly began to speed up.
“Honey, if you keep hugging me, I’m gonna get hard,” Mason whispered into her ear, a grin in his voice.
“What?” Skyla exclaimed, pulling away but keeping a relatively close distance. “We’re just hugging!”
“I’m between your legs,” he whispered. He was indeed grinning.
Skyla groaned and pushed him away before hopping down off of the counter. “You’re disgusting.” Mason laughed and she picked up a bowl from the counter. “Men are gross.”
“Yeah,” he agreed.
After getting some soup, which was tomato according to Mason, Skyla sat beside him on the couch while he scrolled through Netflix. “What do you wanna watch?” he asked her.
She shrugged and blew on a spoonful of soup. “I don’t mind. You choose.”
He hummed and clicked on a movie they had begun watching last night before getting… distracted.
“It’s my favorite Marvel movie,” Skyla teased with a smirk. She looked at Mason and saw him just staring at her with a look that said “I’m done” and she bursted out laughing.
“For the last time, it’s not a Marvel movie,” Mason said with a smile.
“It literally is!” Skyla exclaimed, pointing at the TV. “It has RDJ, Scarlett Johnason, and Jon Faveru. This is Iron Man 2.”
“No!” Mason repeated as he laughed. “Baby, it’s not Iron Man 2.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She brushed it off with a waved hand and started to eat. Mason shook his head and ate as well.
After eating, Skyla went to put the bowls in the sink. She’d do the dishes later. Right now she wanted to cuddle. Apparently, Mason had the same thing in mind because when she returned, he was already sitting on the couch with a blanket. The same blanket, in fact, that Skyla had gotten him for their first Christmas together four years ago. Her heart swelled and she smiled.
“Cuddles?” Mason asked with his brows raised in hope.
She smiled and lay down on the couch. “C’mere, baby.”
Mason made a small sound of happiness and laid on top of her with his head on her chest. Skyla got the blanket fixed and exhaled deeply. This right here was her favorite place in the world. Mason with his hands under her shirt and holding her sides. When he was still in California with his POS mom, he always texted her about how he wanted to cuddle with her. How he wanted to lay his head on her chest and hear her heartbeat. Unsurprisingly, his love language was physical touch.
“Hey.”
She turned away from the movie and looked down at him. She knew what he wanted and so she leaned her head down and gave him one of the softest kisses she had ever given him. “I love you.”
“I love you,” he whispered back against her lips, kissing her again.
“I love you more.” Another kiss.
“I love you most.” Another one, this time a bit more forceful like his words.
She pulled away and smirked. “I love you more than that.”
“If I had to choose you or the stars, I’d choose you every time,” he replied with a smirk.
She scowled. “You can’t use my own pickup line on me. You don’t even like the stars.”
“I like you,” he said, placing his hand on her cheek and stroking her cheek with his hand. “You’re pretty. Like the stars.”
She blushed and turned her face away as he laughed. “Stoppp,” she whined.
“Okay, okay.” He put his head back on her chest and put his hands under her shirt to hold onto her sides. Skyla went back to running her hands through his hair like she often did.
About halfway through the movie, Mason suddenly sat up. Skyla made an upset sound and reached her hands up. She was in the middle of braiding his hair while he was kissing her stomach and borderline giving her hickies.
“What are you doing?” she asked, sitting up more as Mason stood up.
“Switch,” was all he said.
So she nodded and let him lay down on the couch before climbing on top of him. She straddled him, putting her legs on either side of his torso. Mason got the blanket fixed and she snuggled into his chest, laying her head over his heart. She smiled as he felt her immediately begin to run his hands through her hair. Okay, maybe this was her favorite position.
She turned her head to the side to continue to watch the movie. Her hands moved under his shirt, though she struggled a little bit. Skyla noticed him take a deep breath before her hands slipped under his shirt, and so she looked up at him.
“You okay? Am I too heavy?”
“Hm? No, you’re fine baby,” he answered. “It’s just… you were moving your hands.”
“Oh. Sorry, I did kind of touch that spot on your side that you said feels weird. Sorry--”
“No, no.” Mason shook his head. “No, it’s not that. I thought your hands were gonna go down my pants.”
She blushed a little before she smirked. “Oh. Did you want them to?”
“...Maybe.” He mimicked her smirk.
She bit her lip. She really wasn’t in the mood and so she gave him a look.
He had gotten good at knowing what she meant by a simple look. “It’s okay, baby. We already had sex, so it’s okay.”
She hummed a little and gave him a kiss on his throat--basically as far she could reach without moving too much--before settling back into his chest. He rubbed her back and she drew tiny patterns with her fingers.
Skyla had just begun to doze off when suddenly Mason gently shook her. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, squinting. “Hm?”
“We should--were you asleep?” Mason asked, cutting off what he was originally going to say.
Skyla nodded and rubbed her eyes, yawning. “Yeah.” How could she not? She was exhausted and he was warm and safe. “You know scratching my back makes me sleepy.”
Mason smiled. “Sorry, baby. If you’re tired, you can go to bed and I can clean up.”
But then she shook her head and sat up. “No. You cooked so I need to clean. We have a deal.”
He sighed. “Okay. I can help if you want.”
Skyla shook her head again. “No. I can do it. Go to bed, baby. It’s like, 10.”
“That’s not late though,” Mason said, folding the blanket up.
“It is for me,” she said to him. “I’ve got a 7 a.m. class and then work until one. Then I have a 1:30 lecture that goes until 3:30 and then--”
“Honey.” Mason grabbed her arms to make her stop talking. His hands drifted up to her face and he cradled it in his hands. “I was joking. Calm down. I know you’re stressed because of finals and band and everything. Take a breath.”
Skyla nodded and took a deep breath. Her anxiety was getting worse. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he told her with a small laugh. He leaned forward and kissed her head. “I get it. But you’re smart. You’re gonna be okay.”
She said nothing and simply stared up at him. The way he was looking at her, the softness in his blue eyes. She almost started to cry. She swallowed the lump in her throat and leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his middle and gripping his shirt in her hands. He stroked her hair and she pushed her forehead into his shoulder, gritting her teeth so she wouldn’t cry.
“I love you,” Mason whispered after a minute or so. “So much.”
“I love you,” she managed to get out. Her voice was strained as she was on the brink of tears. “I don’t wanna lose you.”
“Honey.” This time, his tone made a tear slip out. It was so sweet, so gentle, so intimate. He wrapped his arms tighter around her and cradled her head. “You won’t. Never again. I’m not leaving you.”
Skyla wanted to tell him how thankful she was, but she couldn’t form the right words. So she nodded against his shoulder and hugged him tighter as Mason hummed and swayed in place. When she sniffled, Mason kissed her forehead and whispered something. It made her smile and nod and she pulled away. He held onto her forearms to keep her from moving too far.
“Hm?” She looked up at him as one of his hands left her arm to cup the side of her face. His thumb stroked her cheekbone and she closed her eyes, leaning into his hand. When it left her, she felt cold and she opened her eyes.
“Let me do the dishes, baby,” Mason whispered. “Go to bed.”
This time, she nodded. “Okay.”
Mason smiled and gently let her go before walking into the kitchen. She stood in the living room and wiped at her eyes and sniffed. After she recollected herself, she made her way into the bedroom. She didn’t have any reason to change clothes since she was already basically in pyjamas already. So she pulled her backpack off of her bed and made sure to plug her laptop into its charger at her desk.
Rubbing at her eye, she pulled her backpack away from the bed and put her phone on her nightstand. After brushing her teeth and avoiding her reflection in the mirror, she got into bed and pulled the blanket up to her neck. Her stuffed animal, a possum, was clutched to her chest.
But she didn’t fall asleep. She just stared at the wall, her mind in a flurry. She only snapped out of it when she heard the front door open and footsteps.
She heard Blake’s voice and then Mason’s. She smiled. She did like Blake, he was always so nice to her. And he was Mason’s best friend, had been since middle school.
But part of her kind of wished he didn’t live with them. She wished that it was just her and Mason. And maybe a dog. She wished she wouldn’t have to worry about being too loud during sex. Blake never mentioned it, bless his heart, but she knew it probably bothered him. She wished that she and Mason could spend the night talking with each other and not have to worry about waking someone up. She wished it was just them.
But then there was laughter, Mason’s laugh, and she felt guilty. Blake made him happy. Why should she wish for someone who makes the love of her life happy to go away?
With a sigh, she closed her eyes. The bed was warm and it smelled like Mason. Maybe this was her favorite place to be.
The door of their bedroom opened once more and she squinted at the light, making a tiny groaning sound.
“Shit,” Mason cursed, quickly closing it once again. “Sorry, baby.”
She just sighed and settled back into the covers, beginning to doze off.
But, as it always did, Mason getting into bed woke her up enough to shift positions. His shirt was off and she put her stuffed animal to the side to instead cuddle with her boyfriend. He chuckled and his chest rumbled under her ear as she got settled.
Their legs tangled together, her head over his pecs as he laid on his back, and his rough, callused fingers slowly drifting up and down her back.
“I’ll try not to wake you up tonight, darling,” he whispered to her.
“Thank you,” she whispered back. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
And they fell asleep like that, wrapped in each other's arms with the rain pattering on their roof to sing the couple to sleep.
——————————
feel free to make requests. reblogs are completely welcome, but no reposts on any other platform unless you ask me first. thanks y’all!
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Watch The Eyes: The Gotham City Airport [9]
[8] masterpost ao3 [10]
EDIT: so as it turns out there is not an extra day between Friday and Saturday. Its been so long since I wrote this chapter that i completely forgot to keep track of the days of the week so im bumping the schedule back a day (so the plane landed Sunday instead of Monday)
It had been a tense two weeks since Damian had spoken to Dick about what happened in the batcave. If the situation wasn't so serious, Damian would have laughed at his reaction.
"Wait, so you're telling me I was sparring with your soulmate?"
Damian nodded grimly.
"Dude... no hesitation. She kicked my ass."
He furrowed his eyebrows. 'Wait... she won? She can fight?'
"No, seriously. Whoever she is, she is fully prepared to deal with our family. Didn't even ask what was going on. You gotta let me know when you find her. I want a rematch."
While Dick was questioning his entire life, Damian was devising ways to attempt to find his soulmate. He was fairly certain she was in France by the language and time stamp, which he conveniently forgot to mention to Dick or anyone else for that matter. He also knew that she has friends named Alya and Nino. It wasn't alot to go on considering he had no idea where in France to start looking.
Alya was not a terribly common name, but being so young it was unlikely the girl had any press or accomplishments he would be able to search for. Since he didn't know her last name, he couldn't research her until he found his soulmate.
He hadn't been able to catch the name of the school. Maybe because the girl, Alya, was dragging him too fast. Or maybe it was leftover resistance to having a bond like this. But it would spell trouble for his entire family if she came to Gotham looking for Nightwing. He had no idea what her character was like. She could be totally reckless. Better to find her first.
He started a campaign of research, sparing none of his free time. But his isolation was leading him into weariness. He was usually fairly introverted, meaning he got his energy by spending time alone, but something was pushing him to spend time with others. So, to keep up his spirits and energy, he went outside the manor for his training. Kor'i was very excited to see him back, the rest of the Titans surprised. He didn't tell them about her, though. He wanted to keep that quiet.
He also went out of his way to spend more time with Jon, who was ecstatic that Damian had decided to find her.
"What made you change your mind?" Jon asked.
Damian sat in silence for a moment. His shoulders drooped and he exhaled.
"I don't know. It feels right , I suppose."
That was a good enough answer for Jon.
Despite not expecting any success, Damian searched up 'Alya France' on his computer. The only thing that came up was a site called 'The Ladyblog' which looked like a fansite about a superhero he'd never heard of. He scrolled through it for a bit before stopping on a video from about two years prior. He clicked it.
"Don't blink now, we're live from Paris. Yo peeps! Alya here bringing you the one and only Ladyblog. *gasp* What is that? Ladybug in action! Hang on, we're going for a ride."
The video continued to play in the background of Damian's mind. It could not be this easy. That was most definitely the girl he saw through his soulmate's perspective. He had absolutely no idea what the girl was talking about though. Ladybug? Chat Noir? Surely if this was real he would have heard about it. No, it must be some sort of fiction project or something similar.
She lived in Paris. Next he had to figure out what school this girl went to so he could figure out his soulmate's name. The textbook in Alya's hand being his biggest lead to the school.
From there... he would make his final decision. They would meet sometime in the coming year, but he didn't have to reveal himself since it was unlikely she would have figured out Nightwing's secret identity by then. Even Tim, undoubtedly the greatest detective of all the Robins, would have taken far longer to figure it out had he not seen Dick perform at Haley's a those years ago.
His mother would have told him to avoid the girl like the plague. Not even consider looking for her. She would only drag him down, add to the list of things that could be used against him. Make him go soft.
But his father? His brothers? They would say go for it. Even Batman, the ultimate loner, recognized the need to have connection. Thus starting his adopting spree that they are yet to be convinced has ended.
He'd trace that book to her school. Trace that book to her class. Trace that book to her. Unknowingly following a similar route to the Ladyblogger in front of him.
Tim sat in his office looking over the itinerary for the class that was visiting. Wayne Enterprises was sponsoring the entire trip.
• Dick was picking up the class from the airport and getting them to the hotel Sunday. Transportation had been secured for the whole trip.
• Dick was also to lead the tour of the building the first day, Monday. At least the public parts.
• Gotham High was accepting them the next few days Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, so the trip remained educational.
• A visit to the Gardens the next day, Saturday, a tour guide arranged.
• Back to Gotham High the next week, Monday through Friday. Tour of the Gotham museum of art Saturday.
• Gotham High again.
• Charity gala the last Saturday with a mention to the class president who wrote the winning essay. Marinette Dupain-Cheng.
He squinted at the name. There was something familiar about it.
'Pain is French for bread? That's got to be it,' he thought. He brushed it off. He had other work to accomplish.
Dick was to be meeting this class at the airport. As the tour guide, he was opening himself up to be the face of their entire trip. He would be accompanying them on all of their trips since Tim had work and Damian was in school (although some of the students were likely to end up in Damian's class). He wasn't sure if anyone would recognize him as Bruce Wayne's first son. To be quite frank, he was hoping they wouldn't. They were French so there was a good chance.
Dick was also on edge after having a discussion with Damian. He wholeheartedly supported him finding his soulmate. He seemed so desperate, bit in a quiet kind of way, even though for years he's been saying he wanted nothing to do with her, whoever she is.
He had been acting strange for two weeks. Rambling on. Cautious where he used to be fearless. Less like the grandson of the demon and more like... well a kid. An anxious kid. It was refreshing, even if he knew it was most likely Damain's soulmates personality peeking through Damian's cracked veneer. He was also becoming more social which absolutely floored B when his son brought Jon home to hang out or when he actually volunteered to train in the Tower with the Titans. It was strange. But a good strange.
The kids pouring out of the luggage claim looked absolutely exhausted. A seven hour flight would do that to you. Despite that, Dick noticed the group had two focal points between which students bounced back and fourth. An taller Italian girl and a much shorter girl with black hair to her shoulder blades.
He had a sign that said François Dupont which he flipped up, the kids pooling into the center of the area. All the kids looked around awkwardly. The small girl with the black hair noticed him first. She turned to to the redheaded teacher he hadn't noticed before. Caline Bustier he remembered. When Caline looked towards him, she ushered the kids in his direction, smiling at the girl who pointed him out.
All the teens flocked around him. The teacher smiled and extended her hand. He shook it.
"Alright! Francois Dupont, yes? Forgive me if my French is a little bit shakey. I haven't had too many occasions to speak it. My name is Richard. On behalf of Wayne Enterprises I welcome your class to Gotham!"
The kids all looked at each other with excitement.
"Now, if you'll all follow me. There is a bus waiting to take you to your hotel," Dick said brightly.
He beckoned them outside where a Coach bus was waiting. The luggage underneath, they were all ready to go.
"One more thing!" Dick announced.
They all looked at him. He held up a small digital camera.
"To prove to Mr. Wayne you all arrived safely. And for the contest webpage if that's alright with you."
He let Mlle. Bustier arrange the children so they could all be seen, she and Dick standing at either side of the group. The coach driver took the picture. The camera automatically downloaded all photos to his cell phone, so he was immediately able to send the picture to Bruce. That picture was from there sent to Tim who uploaded it to the contest webpage with the caption "The winning class!"
They all filed onto the bus. The Italian girl seemed to have priority over everyone else, or at least that's how several of her classmates treated her. She went on first. Not before subtly knocking shoulders with the small girl. It didn't seem friendly.
Since he had no details, there was little he could do unless whatever the situation was escalated under his watch. He decided to keep an eye on those two, just in case.
The teacher took roll once more. Satisfied that they had everyone, the bus started moving. After about forty five minutes, the bus rolled into the hotel parking lot. Dick stood first and went into the hotel.
He collected the room keys from the front desk while Mlle. Bustier handled getting everyone and everything off the coach.
He came back outside, passing off the thick envelope of key cards to the teacher, smiling brightly. She thanked him with her best English. Richard's face lit up in surprise.
"Oh!" he said. "I was unaware you spoke English."
Her expression grew slightly pained.
"Very little," she admitted. In French she continued, voice low. "Although our class president speaks it fluently and at least one of my other students has claimed to speak English quite well."
The word claimed was not lost on him. He chose not to address it at that time though. It was good to know that Miss. Dupain-Cheng spoke English, since she would be the one honored at the gala. He nodded to himself. Turning to the class he made an announcement.
"Names and room numbers are on the keys. Each of you should have one and may have them as a little keepsake at the end of your stay. As long as your teacher approves, I would have no issue with trading, and as long as everyone is okay with it."
A murmur passed along the small crowd. He nodded and turned back to the teacher. He pulled their itinerary out of his bag and passed it to her.
"I will be meeting you here at 8:30 am sharp. Everything you need should be on this paper including my personal cell phone if there is an emergency. On behalf of Bruce Wayne and his company, I again welcome you to Gotham."
When Dick finally arrived home, it was after Gotham High had let out. Meaning Damian was already home. He had been on edge for two weeks after his soul switching. Of course that spread to everyone in the house. Their identities would have to be comprised for this. But to see Damian happy... it might be worth it.
They had all discussed it and decided that Damian would find her and do some research, get to know her in costume, then decide if she could be trusted. Damian continued to give some weak protest over having a soulmate, but everyone could tell it was forced. He really seemed to want this.
'Speak of the devil,' he thought as Damian appeared in the hall.
"Grayson."
"Baby Bird," he returned his brother's attempt at a greeting.
Damian squinted at him.
"You're home quite early," he stated.
"Yes, I just got back from the hotel. I was picking up the class that B's sponsoring. Remember the contest?" he asked.
Damian's eyes widened with knowing.
"Oh, I was unaware that they would be arriving so soon," he said.
Dick raised an eyebrow.
"You gotta pay attention, pal."
His expression soured.
"I've been a little busy, Grayson.
The older of the two stood there, considering that defense. Under the circumstances of the last two weeks, he would cut him some slack.
"Well, some of them are going to be in your class starting Tuesday," Dick informed him.
"Some of them?"
"Well, it would kind of be a lot to add all those kids to one class. So, the class is being split up into groups of two or three and sitting in on the different classes in your grade," he explained.
Damian nodded thoughtfully before his face lit up with panic.
"I FORGOT I WAS SUPPOSED TO CALL JON ABOUT OUR GROUP PROJECT."
He turned and ran up the stairs.
Alfred emerged from a room to his right.
"Master Dick. You're back. Where did Master Damian run off to?" the butler asked.
Dick stared up the stairs where his brother had run. Dick had started to expect this odd behavior that Tim had claimed was being channeled from Damian's soulmate. He shrugged. Another time then.
For the quote from the Ladyblog I used the English version of Pharoh, so if the translation isn't quite what you're expecting, that's probably why. Also the mention to Tim seeing Dick at the circus was a reference to Knightfall. Takes place pretty close after Death in the Family. Tim is high up on my list of favs so I just wanted to throw some praise for him in here so... yay Tim!!
Anyways, I hope you enjoyed :)
taglist: (CLOSED)
@vixen-uchiha @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @violatiger8 @mochinek0 @constancetruggle @yamadochie @seraphichana @captainmac6 @nataladriana9 @iggy-of-fans @riarkle-felinettelove @luciferge @mystery-5-5 @mellownieice @northernbluetongue @imanerddealwith @ayuchan07 @poshplumcot @annabellabrookes @legendaryneckjudgestudent @chez-pezeater @friedchickening @da-tasuky @crazylittlemunchkin @g-arya @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff @witchbitch1998 @theatreandcomicfreak @lysslovsanime @zalladane @tbehartoo @goggles-mcgee @tumbling-down-hills-and-stuff @kanamexzeroyaoifangirl @melicmusicmagic @reichi-vogart
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First Xmas Gala
Ashleigh Wayne Au Fic Masterlist
The day of the Gala has come, and Ash couldn't be more nervous, but with her family by her side everything will be fine, right?
Preparing for the Gala
. . . . .
I didn't sleep that night. I got up at five, shower, shaved, and cleaned myself up. I tried to do something with my hair, but there wasn't much I could do, so I ended up leaving it as it was.
As I headed back to my room, I spotted the boys in Dick's room, getting ready. The five of them were wearing similar black suits, each had unique accessory matching the Wayne wearing it. Dick, Duke, and Damien all had ties, blue, yellow, and green respectively, Tim a red bowtie, and Jay a loose floor length skirt.
I stared in aww at my brothers. "You guys look stunning."
Dick looked up at me curiously. "Thank you. Are you wearing that?"
I was still in the clothes I'd worn the day before. "First off, I already look better then you."
Jay snickered. "That's not hard."
"Secondly, no. I'm going to get changed now."
Duke adjusted his tie. "Well hurry."
I headed to my room, stripped and looked into wardrobe. The suit, or the dress? The suit was nice, and I knew I'd be comfortable, I wouldn't stand out, but I had to wear the dress. I wanted to wear the dress.
I examined myself in the mirror. The blue dress hugged my body, not too tightly, but enough. The long skirt hid the sneakers, and tracksuit bottoms I was wearing underneath. I rubbed my bare arm. It felt right, but could I really wear it in front of all those people? In front of Cassie?
Someone knocked on the door. I recognised Harper's knock. "You decent, Ash?"
"Yeah, I am."
"Mind if we come in?"
I unlocked the door for them. Carrie, and Harper walked in. I looked at the girls. Harper was wearing a black suit, with a blue undershirt, while Carrie was wearing her green sun dress
"You look amazing." We all said in unison. It was followed by a burst of giggles.
Carrie leaned against my dresser. "So, are you ready for your first Gala?"
"I guess so."
"You look worried."
"All things considered, the Galas the least of my worries."
"Cassie?"
I turned back to the mirror. "Yes. Do you think she'll like this dress, or should I wear a suit?"
Harper came up behind me, and wrapped her arms around me. "Do you like it?"
"Yeah, but-"
"No buts. You like it, so nothing else matters, plus I know Cassie will love it. You want to know how I know?"
"How?"
"Cause you're in it."
I leaned my head back into her. "Thank you, Harper."
In the mirror, I watched as Carrie pick up my pair of fishnet gloves. "You've been taking fashion tips from Dinah I see."
I took them from her, and pulled them on. "Zee, actually. She's got great style. Would one of you mind taking a picture of me?"
Carrie grabbed my phone. "Not at all. Strike a pose."
I smiled as she took a step back to get a proper shot. As the camera flashed, I felt a sudden weight on my back.
I tried to steady myself as Harper clung to my back. "Photobomb!"
I giggled as we fell onto the bed, knocking her off of me. "Photohog more like it."
When we were done laughing, Carrie took a proper photo, then one of the three of us together. I sent them to Siobhan, then the three of us headed downstairs.
Everyone was gathered in the living room. Bruce was the first to spot us. "Ashleigh, you look stunning."
Kate appeared behind him. "Understatement of the century."
I could feel my face reddening. "Thank you."
The same could be said for them. Bruce was wearing a pitch black suit. In a dim light room, he'd be hard to spot. Maybe that was the point. Kate's outfit was at least bit more colorful. Her black dress had intricate red lines swirling through it.
Carrie coughed, drawing our attention to her, and Harper. "There are other children in the room looking for positive verbal reassurement."
Bruce russeled their hair. "You two are just as stunning as ever."
Carrie fixed her hair in one motion. "Good. Thank you."
Harper was not so lucky. She gave Bruce a sour look as she pushed the loose hair from her face. "Yeah, thanks."
I looked around the room, admiring everyones outfits. I'd seen Bab's dress the day she got it, but it looked even better on her. The green empire dress worked so well for her. As for Steph, and Cass they both wore matching sun dresses. The only difference being the colours, purple, and black respectively, both with splashes of yellow.
We took the obligitory family photos. First, all of us together. Then the adults. Then the kids. Then a couple more in our own little groups.
Steph had taken on the role of 'parent who wants way too many pictures'. She insisted on getting dozens of pictures of everyone. After what felt like a hundred pictures, Steph left me alone, and went to get pictures of Bruce.
Kate took my hand in hers. "You nervous?"
"More then I've ever been."
She gave it a gentle squeeze. "You'll be fine."
"What if I fuck it up?"
"You won't."
"I'm going to do something wrong or forget something- The flowers! What did I do with the flowers?"
"Calm down."
I thought for a minute as to where I left them. "They were in my room. I'll go get them."
I turned to go get them, but Kate grabbed my shoulder. "You stay here, I'll get them."
Kate left, and returned a few minutes later with my flowers. She set them down nearby, and we chatted as we waited.
Since the Supers and the Wonders were also going to the Gala, Bruce had suggested they all carpool with us. It wasn't long before the Supers arrived, much to Tim, and Damien's delight.
Clark wore a lovely tan suit, Lois a very professional looking black suit, she was still very much in reporter mode. Conner, and Jon wore near identical Superman-esc suits. They we're adorable, and clearly Tim agreed, considering how quickly he jumped into Conner's arms. Kara had a lovely yellow bouffant dress, and Karen a green sheath dress. It made her look like a news anchor. Of course a news anchor wouldn't wear a green dress.
Artemis arrived soon after to pick up Jay. She had a beautiful red dress on, that ended just past her knees. I was kind of expecting her show up with the other Wonders. She assured us that the others had just run into some delays and would be here soon.
As the two went to leave, Jay stopped, and turned to me. "Piece of advice, make sure to use pro- oww!"
Artemis smacked the back of his head. "Don't you dare finish that."
"I was joking."
For just a moment I was worried that if I messed this up Artemis would break my arm, then I realized how ridiculous that was. Cassie was more then capable of doing that herself.
The two left on Artemis's motorbike, because leaving in a car or limo would have been far too boring for them.
Bruce leaned into me, and whispered. "You did have 'the talk', right?"
"Yes! What do you people think is going to happen tonight?"
Kate flashed a cheeky smile. "All cards are on the table."
I was spared delving any further into that conversation by the doorbell. Alfred left the room to answer it. It had to be the Wonders. Too late for me to back out now.
Alfred with Diana, Donna, and Cassie. I felt my heart beat faster as I saw them. Diana was wearing a blue bodice gown, Donna a sleevless black sheath dress with stars down both sides, and Cassie was wearing a red spaghetti top, and a blue skirt with stars, it looked like the one from Wonders Woman's old costume.
"Sorry for the delay." Diana apologised. "Someone forgot to check the tank before we left."
Donna sighed. "I said I was sorry."
Cassie hit them. "You two, stop fighting."
Once Cassie managed to stop the two bickering, they split off to socialise. Diana went to Bruce, and Clark, Donna to Dick, and Babs, and Cassie found her way to me.
She had a beaming smile on her face. "You look amazing."
"Thank you. You look beautiful."
She gestured to my gloves. "Got them from Zee?"
"She recommended a store."
I gestured to her skirt. "Diana's?"
"Bingo."
The two of us began chatting. Tim, Cass, and Steph joined us. We giggled amongst ourselves until the time came for us to leave.
Alfred walked over to us. "Miss Ashleigh, Miss Sandsmark, I believe it is time we leave."
Alfred, and Cassie began walking off. I went to follow them, but Steph grabbed my arm, and gestured to the flowers. "Forgetting something."
"Oh yeah." I quickly grabbed them. "Thanks."
Cass kissed my cheek. "Head up, be proud."
"Thanks."
I caught up with the two. Cassie looked at me. "What held you up?"
"I forgot something." I presented the flowers to her.
She examined them. "They're beautiful. What are they?"
"Flowers."
She punched my arm. "I know that. What kind?"
"Oh. The red ones are amaryllis, the yellow are orchids, and the blue ones are larkspur."
"I've never heard of that last one."
"Neither have I."
"Did you just choose these because of my costume?"
"For the most part."
"Dork. I love them."
We wandered out to the car that Alfred had for us. We sat into the back.
"Flowers, and our own car, not a bad start to a date."
"The seperate car was Dick's idea." I admitted.
"In that case I'm surprised it's not filled with rose petals and candles."
"Oh don't worry, he wanted to."
"He's like a cliche romance novel, in the best ways. What stopped him?"
"Babs had him a short leash. He wanted to arrange a romantic candle lit dinner in the fanciest restraunt in Gotham. I figured that might be too much."
"That's ridiculous but sweet. Someone going to be lucky to have him one day."
"Yeah, they are. Would you have liked that?"
"I'll love whatever we do, as long as we do it together."
"I'll remember that for next time."
She smiled "Already thinking about a next time?"
"No. I mean yeah, but- sorry."
"It's alright, Ash. You don't have to be nervous."
"Says you. I don't think I've ever seen you nervous."
"I'm nervous right now."
"About the date?"
"Yeah."
"You have nothing to worry about, this is going to be the best date I've ever been on."
"How are you so sure?"
"I've never been on a date before."
Cassie laughed. "Doesn't that mean it will also be the worst date you've ever been on?"
"Shush."
The rest of the ride was filled with our typical banter. It felt so natural that I forgot it was a date. I only remembered as we pulled up to the Gala. I stepped out of the car, turned, and offered Cassie a hand out. "M'lady."
She took my hand, and giggled. "You're such an idiot."
We headed into the building. As we walked in, hand in hand, I realized something. I was so worried about the date portion, I forgot to ask what you actually did at a Gala other then dance.
I guess I have to do as I usually do, figure it out along the way, and pretend I knew all along.
The first thing I spotted once we were inside was the huge Christmas tree. It was bigger then any I'd ever seen, and beautifully decorated.
I was quickly whisked away as Cassie pulled me along behind her. Hours passed as we chatted, and joked. It really didn't feel much different then when we normally hung out.
We talked to people, the Bats, the Wonders, others who I'd never met before. When it came to that, it was more Cassie talking, and me hiding behind her. I did notice that Artemis, and Jay were no where to be seen however.
Eventually, we spotted them standing by the food table. Cassie gently dragged me along behind her as we headed over to them.
Closer now I noticed that Artemis had her hand up Jay's skirt. The two were so busy with whatever they we're doing, they didn't hear us approach.
Cassie coughed. Artemis quickly straightened up, her hand accidently pulling Jay's skirt up. He quickly pushed it down. "Hey!"
"Don't blame me. You should have worn trousers under it."
"I like the breeze."
Cassie, and I giggled at the two. "Should we even ask?"
Jay reached into his skirt, and pulled out a resealable bag full of treats. "Stealing."
I looked at him curiously. "Where were you keeping that?"
"I have the inside lined with pockets."
Cassie shook her head while chuckling. "Why are you even stealing that food, it's free?"
Artemis shrugged. "It's more fun."
I nudged Jay. "You can't go one night without some kind of mischief can you?"
"God, no."
Artemis began whispering to Cassie. Jay, and I watched them curiously. The two girls looked to us. "One moment."
They walked away, still whispering. I turned to Jay. "What's going on?"
"I have no idea." He turned back to me. "Anyway, how's the date been?"
"Great."
"And the ride here?"
"It was good, yeah. We chatted."
Jay smirked. "Is that all you did?"
"I'm going to hit you, really fucking hard."
"So is that a yes?"
"This close, Jay."
"You wouldn't hit me."
"Keep pushing, and you'll find out."
Jay was about to respond when music suddenly came on. I watched as people gathered into the center of the room.
He nudged me. "You should go dance with her."
"I might mess up. The last thing I want is to fall over her, or the other way around."
"You've been practicing all week for this. You never once knocked Cass."
"That's Cass."
"Good point."
"If she doesn't bring it up, I think I'll just avoid it."
"Too bad." He grabbed the scruff of my dress, and dragged me towards Cassie.
I tried to pry his hands from my dress. "Jay, I swear to god."
"You are going to dance. Babs, and Cass spent all week teaching you."
"Fine."
We got to Cassie, and Artemis. They looked over at us. Jay kept a hold of the neck of my dress. "Ask."
I turned to Cassie. "Would you like to dance?"
Cassie smirked. "Depends, is Jay going to dance with us."
I elbowed his stomach. He recoiled, and let go of me. "No. He won't."
Artemis laughed as he grabbed her arm to stabilise himself. Cassie, and I headed out to the dance floor. She took my hand. "You know how to slow dance?"
I placed my free hand on her shoulder. "Yeah."
She placed her other hand on my side. "Guess I'm leading."
"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. I can lead if you'd prefer."
"It's alright, Ash."
We moved around the ballroom elegantly to the song. Eventually Cassie closed the gap between us. "You know, Ash. For a someone who seemed like they really didn't want to dance, you're quite good at it."
"I've been practicing."
"With Dick?"
"No. He wanted to show me, but Babs wouldn't let him. She, and Cass showed me."
"That explains it."
The song stopped, and we stepped apart. "What now?"
"Wanna take a walk?"
"Sure."
We soon found ourselves out to the balcony. It was empty. The silence was nice, as was the cool winter breeze. "Tonights been nice, Cassie. Thank you."
She leaned her head onto my shoulder. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."
"I'm sorry if it wasn't what you wanted."
"I wanted a date with you, Ash. The Gala was just a great excuse for it. Tonight's been everything I wanted."
"Tonight's been a night of firsts for me."
"Oh, yeah?"
"First Gala, first date, first slow dance, even my first time wearing a dress out. It's been an amazing night, Cassie, and I have you to thank for all of it."
"This nights not over yet, Ash."
"Something you had in mind?"
"I was thinking we spend more time out here."
"That'd be nice. Maybe we can do this again. The whole date thing."
"I'd love to. Any suggestions?"
"How about the restaurant Dick was on about?"
"Sounds like a nice place."
"It would be with you there."
Cassie looked at me. "Did you just attempt to flirt?"
"Depends, was it any good?"
She kissed my cheek. "Awful, but you tried."
I felt the blood rushing to my cheeks. I stared out into the darkness. It got dark so quickly during the winter. The Bats, usually, would be out on patrol by now, and I would be home worried sick, but not tonight. Tonight, I knew they were inside, enjoying themselves, safe, and that made me happy. As did Cassie's hand in mine.
Today was a good day.
. . . . .
Writing this fic was so hard for so many reasons. The primary one was just to find the motivation to finish it. I set a deadline for myself of the 10th. It is not but the 10th but close enough. I think this turned out great, hope you enjoy. I also intend to post a Xmas fic soon aswell, so look out for that if you're interested. Though it might not be out by Xmas if I'm not feeling like it.
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