#still need the sides to grow out more for the exact kind of shorter cut id want too so like : $

[loverboybitch]

hair unironically stressing me out . like . what do i do with it.//.

[psychovigilantewrites]

Stay Away

Pairing: Reader/Jason Todd

Genre: Smut

TW: AGE GAP!! PSEUDO-INCEST! PLEASE READ SUMMARY, IVE RECEIVED LOTS OF CRITICISMS FOR THIS FIC SOOOO 

Summary: THIS IS A REPOST SINCE TUMBLR TOOK IT DOWN DUE TO POSSIBLE REPORTS LOLOL 

This fic is about a young Robin!Reader with a much older Jason. Mentions of past sexual abuse. This started out as a drabble lol, I got carried away. Anyway, Hope you enjoy! I love reading comments, so don't be shy!

Edit: Due to this fic being my only controversial one, I’d like to update the warnings by giving a brief description of what happens. Reader is adopted by Bruce at 14, she has a small innocent crush on Jason that isn’t explored until she is older (Jason has ZERO feelings for her at this stage because SHE IS JUST A KID HERE). At 16, she becomes more aggressive in flirting with Jason. At 17 (Gotham’s legal age of consent- I based this on New York’s age of consent), she has oral sex with Jason. At 18, they have sex (Jason is 27).

I wrote this a while back, and now that I’ve learned a few things along the way, I realise that a sexual relationship between a 27 year old and an 18 year old is still highly problematic- even though legal. I do not condone these actions in real life, and I doubt Jason would as well. This is purely fictional, an outlet for my fantasies when I was younger. I still do not believe in creative censorship and I want people to enjoy this fic even if it has no place in the real world. We are all allowed to escape into fiction and our own fantasy and enjoy them privately without guilt. 

“And this is Jason,” Bruce introduced you to him.

Another one?, Jason thought, though he felt slightly guilty for thinking it. He had many problems with Bruce, but deep down he knew that Bruce adopted all of them out of kindness and good intentions.

“Hey,” he grunted, holding out his hand.

You just looked at him with big, frightful eyes, still sticking close to Bruce’s side. You looked young. You couldn’t have been older than fourteen. Your hair was cropped messily short, and it made you look almost like a young boy.

Jason raised an eyebrow and dropped his hand when you didn’t take it.

“Who’s he?” you whispered to Bruce with a soft voice that the average person wouldn’t have been able to hear.

“He, well,” Bruce hesitated, “He’s Red Hood.”

Jason’s eyebrows shot up.

“I decided to tell her everything,” Bruce explained to Jason, “So she can make an informed choice since young.”

“When you’re that young,” Jason glanced at you then back to Bruce, “Anything would sound cool. Even something dangerous that will rob you of your childhood. It’s not an informed choice, you’re basically dangling a cookie in front of her.”

“I’m not young,” you squeaked, “You’re just old.”

Jason scoffed at that.

Though you had voiced out your comeback, you were still shaking in nervousness, refusing to meet his eye.

Jason couldn’t blame you for that. He knew how his eyes looked.

“All of you were younger than her when you chose this life,” Bruce said softly.

“Did we really choose, Bruce?” he argued back.

“I’m not encouraging her,” he defended, “In fact, I’m doing the exact opposite. This time, I’m telling her the truth and nothing but the truth. The good, and the ugly.”

Jason saw how you didn’t like the way the conversation was going, talking about you as if you weren’t there. You had a deep frown on your face that made you look older than you were, but also, paradoxically, a cute pout that brought out the child in you.

“Whatever,” he finally shrugged, “Your kid. As if any of us had a say in anything anyway. If this was the only reason why you asked me to come here, I’ll be leaving.”

He turned to leave the manor, to go back to his safe house.

“Good riddance, old man!” you called out after him in a shaky voice.

Jason looked back and raised an eyebrow. You immediately blushed and avoided his eyes. In the back of his head, he thought about how he could recognize your accent anywhere.

***

The next time Jason visited the manor, which was about two months after the initial introduction, he found Bruce training you basic self-defense in the Cave.

Your hair had grown slightly, and you probably fixed the cut to suit your features better.

“What happened to being discouraging?” he said out loud.

You jumped at his voice, but Bruce looked at Jason knowingly.

“It’s just self-defense,” Bruce explained, “Useful regardless of Robin or not. She’s a fast learner.”

Jason saw how your face lit up at his praise.

Great, he thought. You weren’t even Robin yet and you already got that Robin complex every one of them seemed to have had.

The constant need for praise and emotional connection from Bruce, as well as a sense of delusional idolization of the man who adopted all of you.

“Where’s Grayson?” he huffed.

“Right here, Jay,” Dick’s warm and bright voice came from behind. Jason resisted the urge to jump just like you did.

Dick was already in his Nightwing costume, and walked towards you.

“Hey little sis!” he greeted, arms open. You flung yourself at him for a hug.

Jason rolled his eyes.

“Don’t the two of you live here?” he scoffed.

“Just because you’re emotionally constipated doesn’t mean the rest of us are,” you shot at him.

Jason smirked. You were feisty, yet still wary of him.

He found that adorable.

“She’s right,” Dick chuckled, “You wanted to see me, Jay?”

“Later,” he mumbled, and changed into his alter ego.

Once Jason and Dick were alone on patrol, he brought it up.

“Don’t you disagree with this?”

“With what?”

“Her,” he said, “Or more specifically, him bringing her into all of this.”

“I did at first,” Dick frowned, “But you’ve only met her once, Jay. You don’t live with her. She’s been through a lot, and her being Robin, well, I think it’d be good for her.”

Jason felt his chest tightening. Bruce had always used the excuse that he made all of them into Robin to help channel their emotions into doing good, to prevent them from falling into darkness.

Yet, Jason still did. And he fell right into an abyssal void that he was still trying to get out of.

“Maybe,” Dick continued, “You should get to know her. You’ll see what I’m talking about, and what Bruce sees in her. Tim disagreed at first as well, but after a while, even he warmed up to the idea.”

He frowned at Dick, and then looked away, sighing.

“Whatever.”

***

A month later, Jason had agreed to meet Dick and Tim at a diner.

The food wasn’t that good, and the service average, but it held many memories for him. Dick used to take him there after patrol when he was still Robin. When he went rogue, Dick had brought Tim there. Post-rogue, all three of them would meet up.

He was early, because he was closer. He waited about ten minutes before he saw Tim walking through the door, with Dick behind him. Following Dick, he saw you.

He frowned.

He supposed that he had to get used to you being around, since you were already in the picture.

He didn’t know why he felt like distancing himself from you. With Tim, he had a good reason. A personal reason that he had moved on from.

But you? He had no reason to push you away. Though, Jason had the tendency to push everyone away.

Dick took a seat next to Jason at the booth, and across from him were Tim and you. You were dressed simply in an oversized hoodie he recognized belonged to Dick. It made you seem smaller and younger than you really were. Your hair was in a short bob now. So you were growing it out after all.

Fine. He decided to give you a chance. He had been unfair to you, after all.

“Isn’t a bit too late for you to be out, kid?” he poked at you, “Don’t you have school tomorrow?”

“Fuck you, you colossal freak of nature,” you cussed at him.

Jason was taken aback.

And then he started laughing out loud.

You weren’t so bad after all. The shyness and wariness that you displayed the earlier times almost all gone, and then there was that familiar accent that he somehow felt at ease listening to.

Dick let out a loud groan.

“You owe me twenty,” Tim suddenly said to Dick.

“Come on,” Dick addressed you, “I had faith in you! What happened?”

“It’s just in my nature, okay?” you pouted, “I can’t help it.”

Dick fished out a twenty and threw it at Tim.

“What is happening?” Jason asked, confused.

“I bet ten that the first thing she says to you would be an insult, twenty if she threw in the word ‘fuck’,” Tim grinned.

“And I,” Dick enunciated dramatically, “Thought that she would at least hold it in until after we finished eating.”

“What, you a potty mouth or something?” Jason smirked at you.

“Unless Alfred or Bruce is around,” you grinned.

It was the first time you smiled at him.

“Coward,” he shook his head, “I used to say all sorts of shit even in front of Bruce and Alfred. You gotta step up your game, kid.”

“And Alfred got you bankrupt, didn’t he?” Dick reminded, “You had to put so much of your allowance in the swear jar.”

“I believe in freedom of expression, alright?” Jason huffed, “I had to stand by my principles.”

“Principles?” Tim scoffed, “You?”

“Yes, me, Timbers,” Jason reiterated, “I’m a man of my word. If I’m gonna swear, I’m gonna go all the way.”

“You’re an old man of your word,” Jason heard you mumble.

“I’m only twenty-three, sweetheart,” he responded, “Dick’s the old man here.”

“Am not!” Dick protested.

“Yeah, Dick’s not,” you agreed.

“How does that make any sense?” Jason challenged.

“Because Dick doesn’t treat me like I’m a kid,” you shrugged, “He brings me up to his level, so I don’t see him as an old man. You on the other hand…”

“But you are a kid!” Jason argued back, “What are you, twelve?”

“You know for a fact that I’m fourteen!” you growled.

Jason grinned at you, and expected you to continue defending yourself. But for some reason, you just remained silent, and he saw a blush of red settling on your cheeks.

“Whatever you say, kid.”

***

The time that passed between that night and the next time he came back was shorter. He watched you train with Dick, and saw that you had already improved a lot.

He went back, and came back again, three weeks later. Your moves were faster, cleaner, more efficient.

He went back, and came back again, a week later. You landed a blow on Tim.

Soon, he realised that he was looking forward to his visits, because he wanted to see how much you progressed during the short time he was gone- and you never disappointed.

“She must be training nonstop,” he casually said to Tim one night on patrol. Bruce still didn’t allow you out with them yet, because you were still too new.

“Dude, she wakes up at four every morning to train for two hours before going to school,” Tim told him, “After she gets back, she does her homework and studies for a bit, and then trains again for another three hours before going to bed. She’s borderline crazy.”

Jason frowned to himself.

He knew that pattern. Training relentlessly to lose himself in the physical exertion, to feel like he had some sort of power every time he landed a punch, to regain some sort of control.

You were either running away from something, or towards something.

“I never asked,” he started, “But how did he end up adopting her?”

“Uh,” Tim rubbed the back of his head in hesitation, “I don’t know if I should be the one to tell you. You should ask her yourself.”

“Oh, come on,” he groaned, “You mean to tell me that you asked her yourself? Dick or Bruce didn’t tell you?”

“Of course!” Tim grumbled, “We’re friends, Jason. We hang out. We talk. You’re the only one missing from the circle.”

“Fucking whatever.”

***

He really wanted to ask, he really did.

If not out of care, then out of curiosity.

But honestly, a heart to heart talk with another human being? That wasn’t him.

Yet, he really wanted to know.

He had tried to sit down next to you when you were just watching TV alone in the living room, he had tried to knock on your door while you were blasting shitty music out loud. He had even tried to call you up and see if you wanted to meet him for dinner somewhere.

But he never got to it.

In the end, a year had passed since he first met you, and it was your big night. It was your first debut as Robin.

“Stick to at least one of us,” Jason overheard Bruce instruct you in the Cave, “Don’t go off on your own, don’t act first, and always listen to orders.”

“Yes, sir,” you rolled your eyes, then put on your domino mask.

Jason smirked at your attitude. You had come out of your shell and he learned that you were really a feisty, sassy, annoying little brat.

He thought the Robin uniform suited you. It was more modern than his was- the colors more muted- and he saw that you probably had demanded Bruce to include designs of your own. Like how your black cape sort of shimmered in the light, and how there was fucking lace at the lateral sides of your legs.

Your hair was long now.

All of you split up during patrol, and Jason had found himself panting on a roof after taking down a dozen guys who thought it was a good idea to seek revenge for the time he pissed on them from the edge of a building while they were doing a drug exchange.

It had been pretty funny, the way they were so furiously humiliated.

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a movement. He turned to look at the building from across the street, and saw that you were sitting there on the edge, legs dangling, overlooking the alley below.

He grappled to where you were and silently approached you from behind.

“I thought he told you to stick to someone,” he said.

“Jesus, fuck,” you jumped, “Stop doing that, you asshole.”

“Think of it as training for your ears,” he chuckled, and sat down next to you.

“I was with Bruce, then Dick, then Tim, then I ran away from Tim to find you,” you explained, “Looks like you found me first, though.”

“Why did you want to find me?”

“Dunno,” you shrugged, “It’s my first night. Just wanted to see everyone in action.”

“Well, you missed one big fight,” he said, “Took out a dozen guys in under five minutes.”

“Not bad,” you smirked, “Wish I could have seen it.”

“You will eventually,” he hummed, “It’s not a big deal.”

“Yes, because you obviously have done worse,” you poked.

“Is that why you were so afraid of me in the beginning?” Jason wondered, “Because you knew I killed people?”

“I was never afraid of you,” you frowned, “What gave you that idea?”

“You couldn’t stop shaking the first time I met you,” he reminded.

“Fine,” you conceded, “You looked pretty big and scary. And when Bruce said that you were Red Hood, that shook me up a bit. But it wasn’t because you killed people.”

“That’s a first,” he scoffed.

“But now I know that you’re just a massive prick who pretends to be badass to cover up the fact that you’re just a sad, fragile being- well, it’s hard to be scared.”

“Oh, we’re throwing shade now are we?” he snickered, “What about you and your obsession with training just to compensate for the fact that you feel small and weak inside with no control over your life?”

He had expected you to retort, but you just frowned and looked down towards the alley.

Shit.

Jason always had that problem where he didn’t know when to shut up, or what not say to people. Granted, most of the time he didn’t care if the other party got offended or not.

But he didn’t want to hurt you.

He was just going to open his mouth to apologize until-

“I’ve been here before,” you started, “This alley. A long time ago. My big brother- he dragged me here away from my dad so he could beat me up.”

Jason remained silent in shock.

“Not that my dad was any better,” you added, “I guess my brother was like that to me because my dad was like that to him.”

He didn’t know how to respond to that. Was he supposed to comfort you? Or tell you something funny to distract you from the sadness?

Instead, he asked, “What about your mom?”

Jason’s mom had been there, yet not fully there. But when she was, he was grateful at least, to know the warmth of a hug in a run down apartment with no heater during the winter.

“Died giving birth to me,” you explained, “Dad always blamed me for it. He’d tell me that he wished I was never born- that he wished he wore a condom when he fucked mom, that at least if she was alive, he didn’t need to fuck whores.”

“And fuck whores, he did,” you continued bitterly, “But they weren’t enough, I guess. He- he even- I-”

You never finished your sentence, but you didn’t need to. Jason was smart enough to put two and two together.

He felt his blood boil, his rage seeping in. It was like he was that Red Hood again. And for the first time since he came back to Bruce, he didn’t try to push that memory away.

He could go rogue again. Just one more time.

“Where is he- they- where are they now?” Jason managed to grit, tasting blood in his mouth.

“Dead,” you snorted, “Thanks to you.”

“What?”

That took him out of his burning anger.

“Turns out dad was working with Black Mask,” you elaborated, “He dragged my brother with him as well. It’s how he managed to afford all those prostitutes and heroin, I guess. I think they were at one of those shipments you crashed or something back then. You left twenty dead.”

Fuck, he remembered.

Black Mask was at the docks, waiting for a shipment of weapons, drugs, and girls. He remembered feeling frustrated that Black Mask slipped away before he got to him, so he took out his anger on everyone else working with Black Mask.

“Lived in the streets after that,” you continued, “Fend for myself. Cut my hair short so people would think I was a boy. I had to stay tough, you know? When Bruce found me, I was doing an odd job for one of the local gangs. Small one. Was supposed to recruit people my age. Start them young, he said. I guess Bruce had been following me for a bit. He approached me and that scared the shit out of me.”

You paused to smile sadly at the memory.

“But he just asked me for my name, and age,” you stared into space, “And he told me that I could do better than that. That I had potential. He asked me if I wanted to help people rather than drag them into dangerous stuff. And how could I say no? Especially after wishing for so long that someone would come and help me when I was with my dad and brother living in a run down apartment with a leaking roof near Crime Alley.”

You finally looked at him.

Jason was glad that he was wearing a helmet, because he wanted to hide from the stabbing guilt he felt. He didn’t want you to see him that way.

“So you’re right,” your blank white lenses pierced his own, “I train because I want to feel strong, because I’ve felt weak my whole life. I train to feel as if I have control over my own body, my own movements. Hell, even the fact that I grew my hair long gave me a sense of control.”

“I’m sorry,” Jason finally managed to croak, “I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine,” you dismissed, “Plus, you did me a favour before. I kind of owe you one.”

“Favour?”

“You got rid of my dad for me,” you stood up, “Thanks.”

And for the first time, looking up at you as you were looking down, smiling at him, he didn’t see you as a kid.

“Sure thing, kid.”

***

Jason started dropping by once every two weeks. Sometimes he would even come around twice in a week.

He had warmed up to you after you told him your story, though he was kind of frustrated that Dick, Tim, and Bruce were all right, and he was the wrong one all along because he didn’t know you.

But then, you also started warming up to him.

And that became the major issue.

Since you donned the Robin uniform, your ego had spiked up. Your confidence and arrogance came with every progress you made. A year into Robin, Jason couldn’t see a semblance of that frightened little girl with the short hair, voice shaking as she tried to insult him.

No, now you were just so fucking annoying.

And for some reason, you started to be more aware of your sexuality as your confidence grew.

At the age of 16, you had started coming onto Jason strong.

“Jason,” you pouted at him, “Why don’t you come stay at the Manor anymore?”

“Because you’re there, kid,” he joked, staring at Gotham’s skyline from the rooftop where you, him, and Batman would occasionally stop to catch a breath.

“Jasooon,” you whined, high pitched and long, “I miss spending time with you.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, because you were touching his arm, squeezing his biceps. Not that you could see his face, given the helmet he wore. He kind of missed how you were back then. All you had were insults and swear words for him, and you definitely didn’t whine.

“Don’t you have Tim to annoy?”

“He’s always busy,” you huffed, “And when he’s not busy, he’s sleepy. Tim’s boring. You’re more fun, in an assholey cocknose dickweed kind of way.”

Ah, there it was, your colorful language. He had to admit, your creativity impressed him.

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” he chuckled.

“So why don’t you come over some time and we can have some fun?” you purred seductively.

Jason was taken aback.

He wasn’t sure whether you meant it innocently, or whether you had hidden motives. He glanced at Bruce who was minding his own business, ignoring the two of you.

He didn’t think you would flirt with him in front of Bruce, so he dismissed it and blamed himself for thinking lewd things.

“My idea of fun involves a bottle of whiskey and B-Grade horror movies, kid,” he patted you on the head, “And you’re too young to drink.”

“Hmph,” you slapped his hand away, “That’s not what I was talking about, but whatever.”

You strutted away.

It wasn’t that he didn’t find you attractive, it was that he shouldn’t find you attractive. What was a 16 year old doing flirting with someone his age? Weren’t you supposed to have crushes on the quarterbacks in your school?

Hell, even if you wanted someone who knew of your nighttime activities, there always were the Teen Titans, whom you regularly joined. That Aqualad wasn't a bad kid, but for some reason he didn't like the thought of you dating just yet.

But still, you had no business with someone like Jason. Age wise, or personality wise.

*** Two weeks later, he dropped by again for movie night.

When he walked into the living room, the only person who quirked up when they saw him was you, probably because the rest had already heard him coming.

“Jay!” you squealed, and ran to him, flinging your arms around his neck in a hug.

“Hey- oomph,” he slightly stumbled. It was the first time you hugged him.

And now that you were so close, he was hyper aware of you. You were wearing shorts and a tank top- with no bra. He could smell your vanilla lotion and your chocolate spice shampoo.

He could feel your strong arms, your heavy weight, your burning heat against him.

And for the first time, he actually got turned on by you.

Fuck, he thought. He shouldn’t be thinking of you like that. As if the age difference wasn’t vast already, you were still underaged.

He awkwardly patted you on the back, in an attempt to respond to the hug. He could make out Tim and Dick snickering at him at his obvious discomfort.

“You’ve gained weight,” he gruffed, trying to break the hug because he was dangerously close to popping a boner.

As expected, you let go of him.

“Yeah, I did!” you grinned happily, “I’ve gained about five pounds of muscle mass!”

You started flexing your toned biceps comically.

“Maybe you can gain five pounds of brain mass next time, kid,” he smirked and ruffled your hair.

“I’m pretty sure that’s a medical condition, you twatwaffle arsebadger,” you shot back at him.

“Jar,” a chorus of lazy mumbles from everyone else rose.

You grumbled and walked towards a coffee table, where a clear mason jar almost filled to the brim with folded notes sat. You shoved in five dollars.

Jason took off his jacket and sat next to Dick on the long sofa. You then hopped towards him and started snuggling next to him.

Jason looked at Dick in question.

Dick merely shrugged.

Jason had a hard time concentrating on the movie that night, because you leaning your head on his chest, and playing with the denim of his jeans absentmindedly.

He wasn’t used to it.

Human contact.

And he knew how you were. You were probably the same with Dick and Tim. You just chose him that night to snuggle up to.

But then you made a comment about how hot the guy in the movie was. Jason didn’t think much of it until you leaned up to press your mouth on his ear and whispered, “Not as hot as you, though.”

That made him jump out of his seat in panic.

Everyone else looked at him suspiciously, but you were just looking at him with a knowing smirk.

“Toilet,” he mumbled, and left.

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,” he paced in small circles in a washroom down the hall.

He looked at his reflection only to see how red he was at his ears. He gripped the edges of the sink and took deep breaths, trying to play it cool.

Now, it was obvious that you were flirting with him. There was no denying it.

But why on God’s planet were you?

Jason groaned quietly to himself.

Whatever. He thought that you’d probably just drop it eventually.

***

Half a year later, and it didn’t.

And it got bad. Real bad.

Jason still kept visiting regularly, and every single time he did, he would get almost sexually harassed by you.

He was just sitting down in an armchair in the living room, reading a book, when you came along, and with the most arrogant, most entitled smirk, sat on his lap.

“Get off,” he grit, eyes never leaving his book. He was scared of what you were wearing this time.

“But you’re so warm,” you hummed, swinging up your legs across his lap, so that you were being cradled by him and the armchair.

“The fire’s right there,” he pointed to the fireplace, “If you need help, I can throw you in it.”

“I’d rather you throw me in bed,” you purred.

He snapped his book shut and squeezed the bridge of his nose.

“Just. Get. Off,” he growled.

It was dangerous. Your smell was intoxicating, and you were shifting and shuffling against his front. His mind started to wander, and he hadn’t even looked at you yet.

“But Jasooon,” you whined, “You’re nice and soft.”

He glared at you.

And regretted it.

You were wearing an almost see-through white loose t-shirt that exposed your shoulders. The thin fabric clung onto the curves of your breasts which were- thankfully- covered by a pink bra. You had a pair of satin booty shorts on which hardly covered your ass, which was sitting on top of his crotch.

“Actually, no let me take that back,” you pretended to wonder, “You’re pretty hard.”

And you gave him a wicked grin.

His eyes widen in panic and he stood up suddenly, causing you to fall flat on the floor.

“Fuck!” you cursed, “What's the big deal, jizzcock?”

He left the room and rushed to the toilet. He looked down, and found his penis was normal, flaccid, non-erect, unfilled.

That bitch fucking tricked me, he thought.

And he fell for it.

He went to look for Bruce who was in the cave, in front of the computers.

He took a wheeled chair and sat behind him.

“Bruce,” he started, “I need to talk to you.”

“What is it?” Bruce asked without sparing a glance at him.

That ticked him off a bit.

“It’s about your daughter.”

Jason saw Bruce pause, and then turned around to finally face him. “What about her?”

“She’s been flirting with me,” he grumbled.

Bruce raised an amused eyebrow.

“She’s sixteen, and she’s flirting with a twenty-five year old man!” he complained, “If she’s doing this to me, God knows who else she’s been doing this to!”

“And?” Bruce questioned.

“And? And?” Jason repeated, “And aren’t you worried?”

“She can take care of herself,” Bruce stated, “She’s mature. She won’t let herself be taken advantage of.

“Look, Bruce,” Jason squeezed his temples, “It’s great that you trust her and all that, but don’t you think it’s kind of fucked up? Christ, she’s sixteen!”

“And she’s well aware of that,” he said, “What would you have me do? Do you want me to talk to her?”

“Forget it,” he gave in, and left for his safehouse without saying goodbye to you.

Because that night he laid on his bed in the dark, guiltily thinking about your ass on his dick earlier. But thankfully unlike earlier, he had allowed his cock to fill up.

He knew he shouldn’t, but he thought of that time when you and him went jogging around the manor. You wore just a sports bra that showed off your cleavage, and sports shorts that rode up your ass. He couldn’t resist looking at the way your tits bounce with every step, and when you ran in front of him, his eyes darted down to check out your ass before he realised what he was doing and excused himself.

Excuse himself because he needed to stop looking, to stop thinking.

But now, he let his thoughts free.

He thought about how that one drop of sweat trickled down between the valleys of your breasts, how your muscular back glistened in the sun, how flushed your cheeks were.

He glanced down at his cock, which was already hard and leaking precum onto his stomach, twitching in need of attention.

“Don’t touch it, don’t touch it,” he muttered.

He couldn’t stop his mind from wandering, but he could try to resist from touching himself.

He owed you that at the very least.

He gulped loudly.

It really wasn’t fair. You didn’t look sixteen, or act sixteen. You were far mature even at a younger age.

But you were still sixteen.

And it wasn’t fair how you could tease him and get away with it.

“Fuck,” he groaned in frustration.

The way you swore sort of turned him on as well, oddly. He loved your use of language, and how dirty your mouth was.

How even dirtier your mouth would be if he shoved his cock in-

“No,” he whined, and he touched his cock.

He stroked it once, twice, three times, and then he came hard, long ribbons splashing onto his chest.

“I am a jizzcock,” he whispered to himself in shame, and then cleaned himself up.

***

Three months later, Jason had just come back from a mission in Mexico. Throughout his trip, he’d been bombarded with texts from you.

The topics spanned from the usual banter about training, Dick, and how you’ve been annoying Alfred with “ok, boomer” memes, to you sending him mirror selfies of yourself in fitting rooms trying out clothes that made Jason almost drool and you attempting to flirt with him.

Jason responded normally to the former, but sent short uninterested texts to the latter.

But when he came back to his safe house, he found his spare handgun on his bed- which was not where he last put it. On it, was a sticky note with a written message:

Try not to lick. R.

“What the fuck?” he muttered. R must have stood for Robin, and then suddenly Jason gulped, wondering what the fuck you had done to his gun.

He opened his phone to check his conversation with you, only to find that you had sent him a ten-minute length video.

His thumbs were shaking when he clicked play.

The video started with a closeup of your face in an awkward position, setting what Jason presumed to be your phone, on a surface with an angle you had in mind. Jason looked behind him and saw that his chair had been placed right in front of his bed, where you must have put the phone on.

“Fuck,” Jason realised. He did not like where this was going.

Or did he?

In the video, you then strolled to his bed, fingers touching his sheets. You were wearing nothing but a white flowy sundress that Jason thought made your skin look absolutely radiant. But instead of sitting on his bed, you had gone out of the frame, and then came back with the gun.

He swallowed hard.

You sat on the edge of the bed with a naughty glint in your eye. And then, you started to caress yourself sensually, squeezing your breasts as you made your way down to between your legs.

Jason realised he had started sweating and panting, getting aroused as his cock slowly started to fill out.

You spread your legs and dipped your hand beneath your dress, but Jason still couldn’t see anything because you had taken the fabric and hid what was going on under. He saw your mouth fall open and you let out a long, loud moan.

“Jason.”

Jason’s breath stuttered. His cock was aching in his jeans, begging to be touched.

Your hands were working underneath the fabric, teasing Jason with only an idea of what you were doing.

“I’m so wet, Jay,” you purred at the camera.

And then, your other hand went to take the gun.

You brought it up to your lips and flattened your tongue against the gun and licked all the way to the muzzle. Even in the low quality, he could see your saliva wetting his gun. Then, you gave him a wink and brought the gun to where your other hand was, between your legs.

Jason stopped the video then and squeezed his eyes shut, breathing hard through his nose at an attempt to calm himself down. Once he did have a semblance of control, which took almost five minutes of just trying to steady his breathing, he opened his eyes and dialled your number.

“Hey, Jay,” you picked up.

“What the fuck?!” he roared, “How the fuck did you get into my safehouse? Hell, how did you even know where it was?!”

“Oh, Jason, please,” he could hear you roll yours eyes, “You’re overreacting.”

“Over-?” he growled, “Overreacting?! You came into my house and then started to- started to-”

“Fuck myself with your gun?” you giggled.

His dick twitched.

“You need to stop this, kid,” he tried to bring his rage in, “Stop it, before you regret it.”

“Or what?” you teased, “What would you do to me, Jason? Spank me?”

He couldn’t. Jason just couldn’t with you. So he ended the call and threw his phone across the room.

He sat down at the edge of the bed and buried his face in his palms. His cock was still aching, and he was dying to touch it.

He glanced at the gun next to him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, and then unbuttoned his jeans, letting out a hiss of relief when he could finally take it out.

He started to furiously stroke his cock, just staring at the gun laying there. He wanted to smell it. He wanted to lick it. He wanted to see if he could still taste you on the metal.

“God fucking dammit,” he cursed, and then he came in pulses.

*** “What’s up, fucktrumpet?” you poked.

Jason let out a long and heavy breath from his nose, the sound becoming static as it went through the voice scrambler of his helmet.

It was a week later, and Jason had joined patrol with you, Bruce and Tim.

“Fuck off, kid,” he walked away from you, pretending to be looking out for something from the ledge of the roof.

“Oh, come on,” you whined, coming closer to him anyway. “You enjoyed it.”

“Tim,” Jason turned away to approach the younger man, “How’s things?”

“Don’t ignore me!” you ran after him.

“Leave me out of whatever this is,” Tim sighed. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Pfft, you’re always in the mood for me, Timbers,” Jason nudged his side with his elbow.

“No, she’s always in the mood for you,” he pointed to you, “For some reason.”

“Well, I’m not in the mood for her,” he grit.

“Meanie,” you pouted, “All I’ve ever been is nice to you, Jay. And what do you do? Act like an absolute thundercunt.”

He wanted to laugh at that, but he couldn’t. He had to keep up his appearances.

“Listen here, you brat,” Jason finally turned to you and poked your shoulder hard with his finger, making you wince. “You stay the fuck away from me.”

“Hey, Jay,” Tim suddenly interrupted, “You don’t need to do that, man.”

“This little bitch broke into my house and started defiling my things, Tim,” he growled, “Yes, I need to do that.”

“Defiling your things?” Tim repeated.

You let out a soft giggle.

“Forget it,” Jason threw his hands up in the air. “I’ll patrol alone.”

Jason saw the slight disappointment in your eyes when he left which made him feel a little guilty, but he ignored it.

Whatever, you were basically just asking for it.

***

Another half a year went by, and Jason found himself at the Manor for Dick’s barbecue and pool party. He was already dreading it, because he knew you would be up to no fucking good, especially when you had the excuse to wear a bikini in front of him.

He had contemplated about not going, but Roy was going to be there, and Roy was making him go.

The first person Jason looked out for was you, because he had to be on his guard. He was standing at the glass sliding door of the manor that opened to the pool to survey the crowd. He spotted you in the pool, laughing at who he assumed was Aqualad- Jason didn't bother to learn his name- wearing a dark red bikini top that fixated behind your neck.

“Jaybird! You made it!” Roy’s voice boomed all the way from the other side of the pool and came running to where Jason was standing awkwardly.

He knew many of Dick's friends, but he was never particularly close to any of them besides Roy and Kori. Now that Kori was gone, Roy was all he had left.

“Don't call me that,” he grumbled back.

“Aw, come on,” Roy groaned, “You came to a pool party in a t-shirt and jeans? Seriously?”

“I wasn't planning on swimming,” he shrugged.

Roy was sporting a horrible bright yellow swimming shorts with green palm leaves.

“Well, I was, so I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

“Yeah,” Jason nodded and decided to head to the pool chairs and put on his sunglasses. He even brought a book to bury his nose into to avoid social interaction.

He heard a splash of water and from the corner of his eye, saw you coming towards him.

“Don’t even,” he snapped at you before you could get a word out.

“I wasn't even going to do anything, fucking dipshit,” you shot back.

Jason forced his eyes back to his book to avoid getting caught looking at how the water trickled down your glistening skin that looked oh so soft-

“What do you want then?” he huffed, turning a page.

“Well,” you began, taking a seat on the pool chair where Jason's feet were, “I was going to ask you about Roy.”

Jason glared at you, peeking from the top of his book.

“What about Roy?”

“You guys are close, right?” you hummed.

“I guess so.”

“Like, best friends?”

“What are we, twelve?” he scoffed, “Why are you asking me so many questions?”

“Well, since you're close to Roy,” you started, “I was wondering if you knew his type.”

“His type?”

“Yeah, like what kind of girls does he like?” you grinned.

“Ones who aren't underaged,” Jason growled.

“Jason I'm already seventeen,” you reminded, “Which is the legal age of consent in Gotham.”

“It doesn't matter,” he grumbled, “He's older than me, which makes him way too old for you. Forget it.”

You pouted, and then stood up. He had to redirect his gaze back to his book.

“It’s like you don't even know me, Jaybird,” you snickered, and with a flip of your wet hair which splashed droplets of water onto him, you strutted away.

He was gritting his jaw so hard he could feel his teeth ache.

Fuck, why can't you just stop?

“I need a fucking drink,” he muttered to himself and left for the kitchen where he rummaged through the refrigerator to find a stout.

He popped open the bottle cap on the marble edge of the kitchen island.

“Alfred would kill you if he saw you do that,” a voice laughed.

Jason rolled his eyes at Dick, who was sipping on a can of beer behind him. “I’ve gotten in trouble for worse.”

“God, I forget how similar you guys are,” he leaned against the counter.

“Who?”

“You know who. Her,” he pointed out.

“We’re not the same,” he denied, heading back outside.

“No, she deals with her issues better than you did,” Dick followed him, “As a matter of fact, you're still dealing.”

“Get to the point, Grayson,” he snapped.

“The point is, she’s not a kid, Jason,” Dick told him, “Why don't you give her a chance?”

Jason stopped in his tracks, standing still before exiting through the glass door. It was quieter inside the manor.

“A chance for what?” he grit.

“To prove herself to you,” Dick explained, “I've noticed how you treat her, Jay. Tim as well. It's like you're trying to push her away. Why? You don't think she's good enough?”

“Holy shit,” Jason started laughing humourlessly, “You think this is about me simply not liking her? You guys think I'm just being angsty?”

“Isn't it?” Dick cocked his head to the side.

“She's been fucking flirting with me, Grayson,” Jason said.

“Okay, I get that, but she sort of flirts with everyone,” he shrugged.

“She comes and sit on my lap, whispers stupid shit in my ear, sends me pictures of herself trying on revealing clothes, makes vulgar motions with her hands, fucking tries to seduce me,” he listed down, “Don't tell me she does that with everyone.”

“Okay, maybe not,” the older man frowned.

“Let me tell you, then,” Jason walked closer to Dick, “She broke into my fucking house, sat on my fucking bed, and started recording herself on her phone, and then sent the video to me.”

“Wait, what?” Dick sputtered, “Recording herself doing what?”

“You fucking know what,” he stated.

“Oh, Jesus,” Dick ran a finger through his hair, “Wow, she's ballsy.”

“That's your reaction?” Jason scoffed, “She's ballsy?”

“I mean-”

“She's sexually harassing me, Grayson!” he argued.

“But,” Dick began, “What did you really think about it? I mean, really?”

“What do you mean?” he hissed.

“Did you watch it?” Dick persisted. “The video?”

“What- I- no, I just-” Jason spluttered, caught off guard.

“You can't lie to me, Jason,” Dick gave him a mischievous smile, “You like her, too. That's why you're pushing her away. Because you don't think you're good enough for her.”

Fuck Dick and his fucking superior detective skills.

“She's too young for me,” Jason simply stated.

“Well, apparently not too young for Roy,” Dick smirked.

“What-” Jason turned around and looked outside.

You were in the pool, standing in the corner. You had a hand on Roy’s chest, looking up at him and laughing. He had a hand on your waist, and was whispering something into your ear.

Jason went into a fit of rage when he saw Roy touching you.

“Mother fucker,” Jason swore, and without thinking, went straight to where you were. He stood there at the edge of the pool, arms crossed, and looking down at the two of you who were both unaware of his presence.

“Roy,” Jason growled.

Roy jumped and looked at Jason in panic, and as if you electrocuted him, immediately jumped away from your touch.

“H-hey, Jaybird,” he awkwardly laughed, “I was just- I was- uh- I was telling her about what a great friend you were.”

“Oh, really?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah!” he nodded vigorously, “Jason here is super good with his aim as well. Could even rival mine.”

Jason ignored Roy, and glared at you, who was looking up at him with obviously fake innocent eyes.

“Out,” he commanded.

“What?”

“I said out,” he repeated. “Out of the pool. I need to talk to you.”

“Oh, come on, Jason,” you started to whine, but then stopped when you saw his expression.

You climbed out of the pool, and again, Jason had to avert his eyes. Without sparing a glance at you, he gripped you by the arm and pulled you to go inside.

“Ow! Jason, let go, fucking cocksucker!” you cried.

He snatched a towel from Tim’s grip as he walked, ignoring Tim’s protests and stares from others, and then threw it on top of your head.

“Ugh- Jason!” you complained. He continued to lead you inside the manor, up the stairs, and to his old room.

He slammed the door shut behind him.

“What's the big deal, you shitpouch?! Who do you fucking think you are? Fucking cumwipe, pisswizard, cuntpuddle...”

That wasn't the end of your swearing. You went on for another good minute of words that could make Batman blush, before stopping.

You were fuming. Your face red, your expression twisted into a scowl, water dripping all over the wooden floors, the fluffy towel around your neck that you hadn't used.

God, you were so hot when you were angry.

“You done?” he deadpanned. He sensed that you were going to go into another stream of name calling, so he cut you off.

“I told you to forget Roy,” he grit.

“And since when have I ever done what you told me to do?” you shot at him

You had a point.

“Look, kid-”

“I'm not a fucking kid, Jason!” you yelled at him for the first time, “I haven't been a kid since my dad- since I was twelve!”

Jason suddenly felt pain in his chest.

“I know you've been through shit,” Jason acknowledged, “What happened with your dad and your brother- I’m fucking glad I killed them. And even if I hadn’t back then, I would have broken every single rule and hunt them down and make them suffer before ending their lives after finding out what they did to you. Hell, before you told me that they were dead, I was already ready to turn every single rock to find them.”

Your expression softened at that.

“And I know you had to grow up fast,” he continued, “All of us who lived there did. But you're out of that now. You don't have to fucking try so hard to act older than you are anymore.”

Your eyes shone with anger once more.

“That's the thing you never got, Jason,” you spat, “I'm not trying. I never did. This is who I am.”

You were looking at him with such fierce intensity that Jason almost forgot how to breathe.

Because you were right. He had gone through the same process where he was made to grow up fast, where he couldn’t afford to act like a kid.

He looked at you, trying not to show much emotion on his face.

Somehow in the heat of the argument and you yelling cusses at him, the two of you had gotten closer to each other, and Jason could even see the tears brimming in your eyes that were threatening to spill.

He immediately felt like a piece of shit, like every word you called him. He never wanted to hurt you.

“Whatever,” Jason huffed, looking away to avoid your glare, “Just stay away from Roy.”

“Why, you two dating or something?” you smirked.

He simply glared at you. You obviously had recovered from your anger and was now back to your usual snarky self.

“Or,” you began, “You were jealous.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Jason objected, “Why would I be jealous?”

“Because,” you drawled, walking closer to him, “You like me.”

Jason had backed up each time you walked to him, and before he knew it his back was hitting the door.

Fuck, he hated how much you affected him. You had him backed up against the fucking door, for fuck’s sake.

To get a semblance of power back, he stared at you straight in the eye, unblinking, and leaned closer to you.

“You wish,” he said coldly.

He noticed that your breath stuttered, and a blush creeped up your cheeks.

Then, he leaned back and smirked.

“Oh, no you don't,” you shook your head, “You think you can win this game, Todd?”

“Unlike you, I'm not playing a game.”

“But yes you are, Jay,” you placed your palms flat on his chest, “You’ve been playing hard to get with me.”

“Playing hard to get is only used when the other person actually wants you,” he scoffed.

He didn't know why, but he was sweating. His respiratory rate had gone up, and shit.

Shit.

He could feel his dick getting filled up.

Maybe it was how close you were to him, maybe it was the fact that you were half naked in front of him with all the privacy he could have asked for.

Maybe it was the fact that it was you who had him in a corner instead of the other way round.

“I'm not a fucking idiot, Jay. Batman trained me, too. I've seen how you look at me and I’ve seen how you tried not to.”

Fuck.

“Your pupils dilate, your breathing gets faster, you start to sweat,” you went on, “And then suddenly you excuse yourself. You run away.”

Your hands went up to his shoulders, and your body was now against his, getting his clothes wet. He could smell the chlorine on you when you leaned into his ear and whispered.

“You fucking coward,” you breathed.

Jason's breath hitched and he had to squeeze his eyes shut. He pressed his palms against the door behind him to restrain himself from touching you, grabbing you, squeezing you, slapping you.

Jason knew he was fully hard now, because it was getting painful.

Suddenly, the pressure and heat of your body against his own disappeared. He opened his eyes.

But sucked in a breath when he saw that you were on your knees in front of him, eye level to his crotch, the tent in his pants mere inches away from your lips.

“What the fuck are you- mmpf,” he threw his head back, hitting the door.

You had gripped his shaft hard, sending a pulse of pleasure through his body.

No. Jason had to stop this. He couldn't go through with this. He shouldn't.

“You want me to suck your cock, Jay?” You purred.

Jason swallowed hard, just trying his best to restrain himself.

He remained silent for a beat. And then-

“Do whatever you want,” he managed to choke out.

You showed him a winning grin, and then unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, pulling down his jeans.

You started to mouth his length through the fabric of his boxers, getting it translucent with your spit. He had never been so horny in his entire life.

As much as Jason’s head was screaming at him, telling him to stop you, telling him how inappropriate it was, he didn’t have the strength to voice it out.

He wanted to tell you to stop teasing him, to hurry up and put your mouth around his cock already, but again, it was like he had lost his voice.

He was utterly conflicted, so he opt to just stay silent.

You hooked your fingers in the waistband of his briefs and then pulled it down, revealing his cock to you. He hissed slightly at the relief.

Jason wanted to remember your expression the minute you saw his cock forever, he wanted to burn it in his brain and immortalize it. Your eyes had gone rounder, your mouth popped open with a gasp, and your excitement grew.

“It’s everything that I’ve dreamed about and more,” you fluttered your eyes dramatically before gripping his shaft and licking one long, steady stripe from the base to his tip.

Jason bit his lip to muffle his groan.

You licked him again, and again, and then started to swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, tracing your tongue around the sulcus underneath his head.

Fuck, you were so fucking good at teasing him, and making him squirm.

He looked down at you, and you were looking up through your long lashes, eyes almost innocent. And then, you took him in his mouth, going all the way down.

“Fuck,” Jason gasped.

You immediately built a rhythm, the most perfect rhythm that he liked. It was suspicious how you knew his preference, and at the back of his head he made a mental reminder to check his room for hidden cameras.

You provided him with the right amount of tongue, the right amount of suction, the right amount of teeth gently grazing him from time to time that he swore could have drove him insane.

Your mouth was soft, and warm, and wet, and before he knew it, he was ready to fucking explode.

As if you were familiar with his expressions, you picked up the pace and started sucking even harder each time you bobbed your head. Jason felt his balls tighten, the heat spreading to his toes and making them tingle.

“Fuck- I’m gonna- I’m gonna-” he rasped.

And then he released with sudden explosion into your mouth, going through a sensory overdrive because as he was releasing, he could still feel you sucking him dry and swallowing.

When he was done, you released his cock with a pop and a grin.

Jason had to catch his breath for a while, because it was the best head he had ever received in his entire life, and he had managed to keep his hands off you the entire time.

“You made me jealous on purpose,” he panted.

“Duh,” you stood up after politely zipping him back up, putting your hands on your waist so fucking proudly, like a power stance.

“Where the hell did you learn how to suck cock that good?” he interrogated.

“You’ve lived in Titans Tower before,” you winked, “You should know.”

He didn’t like that. He didn’t like that statement and implication one bit.

“This can’t,” he started, “We can’t-”

“This can’t happen again?” you finished for him, rolling your eyes. “Typical. Just get over yourself already, Jason. It gets tiring.”

“I’m no good for you,” he avoided your eyes.

“You say that right after coming into my mouth,” you scoffed, “Sure.”

He clenched his jaw. You were right. He was trash for doing that to you, defiling you like that.

Jason must have let his emotions leak, because you suddenly added, “What I meant was, we’ve already crossed that line. We don’t have to go back to how it was before. I like you, Jason. And I know you like me, too.”

“That doesn’t matter,” he muttered, “This was a mistake. We can’t do this again. I’m sorry. Just stay away from me.”

He left.

***

He had avoided you for a long time after that.

Months went by, and he ignored your texts and your calls. Even the knockings outside his door. He had made sure to upgrade his security, with both Tim and Roy’s help so you couldn’t break in again.

When he went on patrols with everyone else, he made sure you couldn’t catch him alone, so he arrived at the very latest, and left at the very soonest, never exchanging more than a few words with you.

And every time, it killed him. He saw the hurt flash in your eyes every time he left quickly, he noticed that you had texted him less and less as the months went on, and eventually came to a complete stop.

You had even stopped calling him those weird, creative swear names that he loved so much.

Jason finally won. He had managed to get you to give up on him.

But hell did it make him feel like absolute shit.

Eight months had passed by, and he was getting ready for the event he had absolutely been dreading. It was your 18th birthday party that Bruce had used as an excuse to host a charity gala at the manor.

Jason thought it was a dick move for him to take advantage of your birthday for the sake of his own gain, but apparently you had been more than supportive over it, understanding Bruce’s position as one of Gotham’s elite.

He didn’t want to go. He couldn’t bear to face you again where you could pull him somewhere private to talk to him. But Dick and Tim had convinced him.

It was your birthday after all.

When he arrived, everyone was staring at him.

Well, he was wearing just a leather jacket over a black shirt and a pair of dark denim jeans after all.

“You couldn’t have dressed for the occasion, Jason?” he heard Tim approach him from behind.

Tim was sporting a suit, just like everyone else.

“Couldn’t be bothered,” he shrugged, “What’s the agenda?”

“Mingling, dinner, speeches, more mingling,” Tim listed down, “Typical charity ball. The others are at the tents. We should get going.”

“I’m the dead son, remember?” he pointed out, “I don’t need to sit with you guys.”

“We’ll introduce you as Dick’s boyfriend or something, come on,” Tim gestured.

“Oh, the media would love that,” Jason muttered under his breath and went along.

The banquet area was set outside in the backyard of the Manor, where tents with clear plastic canopies were propped up, decorated with fairy lights. Since it was spring, the weather was cool enough for suits and warm enough for strapless dresses.

The main tent had a stage where a band was playing classical music- typical tunes you would hear at any other fucking gala.

Each table seated ten, and Tim had brought Jason to a table closest to the stage where he saw Dick, Bruce, and you were already seated with four others. He recognized the Mayor, the Commissioner, Lucius Fox, and a middle aged woman with greying hair he didn’t recognize with who Jason presumed was her husband.

Jason avoided looking at you, but he knew that you were staring right at him. Tim took a seat, and Jason cursed softly when he realised that the only other seat available was in between you and Dick.

Looking straight ahead, he calmly sat down. From the corner of his eye and from a portion of what he could make out, he saw that you were wearing a midnight blue dress, and a silver bracelet around your wrist which you rested on the table.

Bruce had started to converse with the guests, and Dick and Tim were having a banter amongst themselves.

“Hey,” he heard your voice.

“Happy birthday,” he mumbled.

“Thanks,” you replied.

And that was that. The two of you remained silent, with Jason occasionally checking his phone and still avoiding looking at you.

“It’s time for our speech,” Jason heard Bruce whisper to you.

He heard you get up and shuffled to the stage. He was hardly paying attention during Bruce’s welcome speech.

“...and then, the woman of the hour, my lovely daughter,” Bruce introduced you. The audience broke out in applause. Jason still hadn’t turned your way.

“Hello, everyone,” he heard your uncharacteristically nervous and shy voice over the sound system. He took a sip of wine. “T-thank coming for you all- uh- I mean-”

The audience laughed, but not in mockery. Jason couldn’t help but look at you now.

He accidentally inhaled his wine, and ended up trying to cover his coughing fits.

Up on stage, where the spotlight was on you, he had noticed your midnight blue dress had small sparkling stars on them, making you seem like you were wearing the clear night sky. Your hair was done in a simple graceful updo, which exposed your neck that he noticed was flushed, a blush creeping up to your cheeks at your own embarrassment.

Your eyes were wide in panic, and you kept on playing with your thumbs subconsciously.

His breath stuttered, because he thought you were the most beautiful creature he had ever laid his eyes on.

You were usually so snarky, so full of confidence, and wit with a mouth that could make a sailor blush- but there you were spluttering all over the microphone, a blushing mess. And hell, did that make Jason’s chest tighten in yearning for you.

“I’m sorry, I’m not used to crowds like my father is,” you tried to laugh it off, “Here, let’s try again.”

Despite your fumbles, you had a certain charm on stage that made everyone just like you.

“Thank you all for coming to my eighteenth birthday party,” you started, “I must admit, at first I wanted my party to be small and intimate. But I realised that this celebration could be used for something good instead.”

Another round of claps.

“I come from a very… humbling area in Gotham. I’m sure we’re all familiar with Crime Alley,” you stated, confidence growing as you got used to being on stage, “It was hard, living as a child in the streets. But I got lucky. Bruce Wayne found me.”

“Being the daughter of Bruce Wayne has taught me a lot about understanding and acknowledging my own privilege and using it to help others. Growing up there, myself and many other children were faced with the harsh reality of poverty and abandonment. Therefore, I would like to announce that I have started a foundation called Wayne’s Foundation for Children of Hope, where all proceeds will go to the development of Crime Alley.”

You paused and smiled at the flashing cameras of the media and waited for the applause to die down.

“Our first initiative is to build a home for lost children aged eighteen and under, to provide shelter, basic healthcare, food, and education. The primary goal of these shelters is to help kids find a place where they belong, and to help set them back on the right track. These kids also have the option to maintain anonymity for cases that involve abusive environments.”

Jason was looking at you in awe. You were standing proudly at the podium, graceful in your posture, a fierce intensity in your eyes- all previous nervousness completely gone.

Next to him, Dick leaned in and whispered, “It was all her idea, you know. Every single plan for this foundation, even the future plans she hadn’t mentioned. All hers.”

Jason remained silent and watched as you continued your speech.

“But the truth is,” you smiled sadly, “It’s still not enough. The situation in a lot of areas in Gotham is painfully swept under the rug. But hopefully with this, people like us can make things a little better for them. If you’d like to donate to the foundation, it would mean a lot to me, and to the other kids who had to grow up too fast.”

You made eye contact with Jason at that last statement, causing his heart to suddenly drum faster.

The crowd broke in a loud applause and you thanked them graciously, waving as you stepped down from the podium to take your seat.

This time, Jason didn’t take his eyes off you.

“That was great!” Tim gave you a thumbs up, “You did great!”

“Well done,” Dick grinned.

Jason took your hand and gave it a little squeeze, just smiling at you in silence. You looked at him with obvious shock, and then grinned back.

“Beautiful, Ms. Wayne,” the Mayor sitting across from you beamed, “You’ve taken after your father’s charms.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mayor,” you nodded, “But I’d like to think that my charms are my own.”

Jason had to bite back a laugh when he saw the man turn red.

He was somehow more relaxed now, even sparing occasional glances at you as you conversed with others. The dance floor was now open, and the guests had left their seats to mingle with others. The MC also announced that the bar was open.

“That’s my cue,” Jason winked at you, and then went straight to the bar to get himself something strong. From there, he just leaned back and watched how the disgustingly rich people made themselves feel better about themselves by donating the occasional couple of million dollars. Soon enough, he got sick of the pearls and diamond earrings, the solid gold watches.

He checked his own battered and scratched Swiss Army watch he had lifted from a drug lord many years ago. He should be going back soon. It wasn’t like he was needed there anyway. He had already wished you and made peace.

“What do you think?” he heard your voice approach him.

He turned and saw you come up next to him.

“Too fancy for my taste,” he started, “Looks like it took you a whole hour just to get into the damn thing. And those shoes? Looks like the crowbar was less painful than walking around in that.”

It took you a couple of seconds before realising that he was talking about your outfit.

“I meant the foundation, you fucknugget,” you hissed.

“Be careful there, sweetheart,” he raised an eyebrow, “Don’t want these people hearing you speak like that. You’ll lose your charm.”

“I don’t know how Bruce does it,” you shook your head, “It’s so exhausting.”

Jason hummed back at you as a comfortable silence fell. The two of you leaning back against the bar and just watching the crowd.

“I think it’s a great idea,” he finally said.

“Thanks,” you pursed your lips, “I kept on thinking of you, you know? When we were coming up with the plans. Was wondering what you would think of it.”

“You’re making it sound like I’m the only one from there.”

“Well, you’re the only one who would understand,” you explained, “The others, of course they empathized. But they wouldn’t understand. Not like how you and I do.”

And Jason realised that it was that factor that probably drew you close to him when you first came to them, the fact that Jason understood at more than just a superficial level how shit your life was before coming to the manor. It was a painful past that only the two of you shared, and only the two of you could talk about.

Silence fell again.

“I’m sorry,” you suddenly brought up.

“For what?” he frowned.

“For making you uncomfortable for so long,” you whispered, “I don’t know why I did it. I guess I liked your reactions. And I guess I just wanted your attention. And during that pool party- I- I thought-”

Jason waited for you to finish your sentence.

“Nevermind,” you looked away, “Forget it. I just wanted to say sorry. I crossed the line. After you stopped talking to me, I just. I don’t want that. So I’ll stop, okay? You don’t have to avoid me anymore.”

He turned around to face you.

“I stopped talking to you not because I was mad at you,” he told you, “I stopped talking to you because I was mad at myself.”

You faced him with curious eyes.

“I thought- well- fuck,” it was Jason’s turn to splutter. He took a deep breath and started again. “I thought that it was a real shit move for me to do what I did to you.”

“Wait, what?” you questioned, “What you did to me?”

“Yeah,” he grumbled, “You know. That.”

“Jason, I was the one who practically jumped you,” you scoffed, “I basically forced it on you. Why are you blaming yourself?”

“Force me? Pfftsh, you couldn’t force me to do anything.”

“Jason.”

“I liked it, okay?” he threw his arms up, “I didn’t stop you because I liked it, and I shouldn’t have liked it. I was taking advantage of you. It was wrong of me to do so.”

“God, you’re so fucking stupid,” you laughed, “I’ve been pining over you since Bruce told me you were… You know who.”

You lowered your voice.

“Want to talk inside?” he offered.

“Good idea,” you agreed.

The two of you made your way past the garden and into the manor.

“Is it okay for the birthday girl to disappear from her own party?” he smirked when he closed the door to Bruce’s study, which was the nearest room that offered privacy.

“Oh, please,” you waved your hand and sat on Bruce’s desk, “The whole party was never about me. I’m just another excuse for those cuntflaps to show off their new diamonds.”

He chuckled. “Anyway, you were saying? Something about Bruce telling me I was Red Hood?”

“Yeah,” you bit your lip in nervousness, “I’ve had a crush on you since then.”

“Really?”

Jason knew that you obviously had a crush on him, especially because of the neverending teasing and seductions, but he didn’t know it stemmed from that long ago.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I remember thinking to myself, like wow. This is the guy who killed them. And you know what? You looked exactly like how I thought you would.”

“What? How so?”

“Huge,” you started, “Scars everywhere. Grouchy as hell.”

“I’m not as grouchy as Bruce,” he defended himself.

“Still,” you chuckled, “You looked exactly like how I imagined my hero to look.”

“Super hot, sexy, and good looking?” he joked.

He had expected you to roll your eyes and throw an insult at him, but you just tightened your lips and looked away.

“Look, k- sweetheart,” he stopped himself from calling you a kid. From what he saw on the stage earlier, you were already so much better than he was. “I’m going to be honest, alright? And you better damn well appreciate it, because I’m never honest.”

You giggled softly. He walked to stand in front of you at the desk.

“I think you’re great,” he stated, “And I think you’re beautiful, and sexy. And…”

He hesitated, thinking of whether or not to continue.

Fuck it. He might as well.

“And I like you,” he forced out, “More than you know. Fuck, I like you. I like you so much it fucking hurts sometimes.”

You looked up at him with hopeful, glistening eyes.

“But I’m no good for you,” he repeated what he said all those months ago, “I can never do what you just did. Start a fucking charity on your birthday and announce it to the world as if it was nothing. Fuck, I don’t think I should even be seen walking around next to you when you look like that. I’m a fucking mess, sweetie. You don’t want that.”

He saw as you digest what he had just said. Then, you looked up at him and asked, “What do you think I want?”

“What do I think?” he repeated.

You nodded.

“I think you should be with someone who’s closer to your age, for one,” he rolled his eyes, “And someone who doesn’t have scars all over their face. Someone who isn’t grouchy. Someone charming who can stand next to you on stage wearing a proper suit and tie.”

“You’re right,” you nodded, “I should be with someone like that.”

Jason felt a pang in his chest at your agreement.

“But I don’t want to be with someone like that,” you continued, “I want to be with someone who was ready to hunt down and hurt the people who terrorized me for years. I want to be with someone whose face is littered with scars as proof that they went through just as much shit as I did and survived.”

You hopped from the desk and stood up straight, stretching your hand up to cup Jason’s face. He leaned into the warmth of your caress, his breath hitching at the close contact. His hands automatically went to rest on your waist, still respectfully high.

“I want you, Jason,” you whispered, pulling him down to your lips, “I want someone who can handle my bites.”

To demonstrate, you sucked in his lower lip, eliciting a low moan from him.

And then you bit down hard.

He gasped at the stinging pain, and then sighed when you massaged his lip with yours. Heat suddenly spread throughout his body, particularly at his member which was growing hard fast. He could smell the wine on your breath that you must have snuck a few sips from, the vanilla lotion you always wore, and a new particularly enticing perfume that you must have gotten for the occasion.

“I want someone who can call me a little bitch straight to my face,” Jason felt you grin against his lips.

The two of you were kissing now, harsh and forceful, as if deprived of touch. Fuck, he loved how you were nipping at his lips and his tongue, tugging his hair lightly.

Both of you gasped for air, and just stood there foreheads against each other, his erection pressed against your stomach, your hands around his neck.

“I want someone who is resourceful enough to enhance his home security to make sure I don’t break in and fuck myself with his weapons again,” you chuckled.

“Was it…” he started, “Was it loaded?”

“You bet it was,” you smiled.

“Fuck,” he swore and then crashed his lips against yours again. He lifted you up to sit on the desk, and then stood in between your open thighs. At the slightly elevated level, he could properly grind his erection against your pussy, still covered by your dress.

“You liked that?” you giggled, “I thought you weren’t into that. I got a bit worried.”

“Hell yeah, I liked that,” he rasped, “What kind of sane man wouldn’t?”

He started to nibble on the skin on your neck, sucking and biting and licking

“I’m pretty sure not everyone is into the thought of fucking a loaded gun into a pussy,” you laughed, “Which proves my point. You and me? We’re perfect, Jay- fuck, don’t leave any marks, dumbass.”

“Point taken, baby.”

“Mmm, call me that again,” you moaned.

He stopped nibbling on your neck, brought his eyes to yours, and with a defiant smirk, he said, “No.”

It was like Jason saw the switch in you flick on, because you suddenly pushed him away aggressively. He stumbled, not expecting it.

“Oh, you think you’re in control, Todd?” you purred, twisting your fists in his leather jacket. You were shorter than him, and your frame much smaller. But Jason just loved the authority that radiated from you.

“You think you’re the one who has power over me?” you drawled, pulling him to the side where Bruce had set up a leather sofa and a coffee table.

“When all this while, I’m the one who had you wrapped around my finger?” you snarled, and then pushed him down on the sofa.

Before Jason could even register what was happening, you were already on top of him, straddling him. He looked up at you, the pressure of your weight on his crotch making him pant with want.

“So are you going to call me baby again?” you asked sweetly, tugging at his jacket to remove it.

“Maybe in due time,” he gasped when you bit the flesh that connected his neck and shoulder hard.

Fuck, he was throbbing in his pants.

You took off his shirt and ran your hand down his body. Jason smirked when he saw you bite your lip as you took in his figure.

He still had a bit of fight left in him, and he wasn’t going to beg.

Yet.

“Why must you be so stubborn, Todd?” you breathed, teeth catching at his earlobe and biting. You were rocking your hips against his erection, and he swore that if you didn’t take it out, he was going to rip a hole in his pants with it.

“H-hey, you’ve always been the pushy one,” he stuttered.

“That’s because I like to get what I want,” you pinched his nipples hard.

“Fuck!” he yelped at the sudden pain, and then glared at you as you just grinned cheekily. “I don’t know why I never took you for a sadist before this.”

“Because you’re an idiot, Jay,” you teased, “All I did was torture you.”

“Yes, you did,” he rested his hands on your hips, motioning for you to grind on him harder, “You made me so fucking hard on purpose, and then I had to go back and jerk off to you, which made it worse because I felt so fucking guilty after.”

“That was your own fault,” you frowned. You were finally, finally unbuckling his belt. “You saw me as a kid when I wasn’t.”

“You were still underaged, you brat,” he laughed, “It didn’t matter if you were wise beyond your years- ah, fuck yeah.”

You had finally unzipped him, releasing him from the constraints of his denim.

“Take everything off for me, Jay,” you demanded, sitting up on your knees to give him room to do so.

He listened to you happily, glad to be rid of his clothes. His cock slapped against his lower abdomen, already leaking so much precum.

“Why am I the only one naked?” he voiced out his displeasure.

“Because it took me twenty minutes to get into this dress, and I’m not undressing for anyone before the night is over,” you announced.

“But, baby,” he pouted, rejoicing at how he made your breath hitch, and rested his chin between your breasts, “I want to see your tits.”

You frowned and bit your lip as you looked down at him, considering his plea. He made a mental reminder that you must like dirty talk.

“Then make sure you don’t go home so early tonight,” you managed to choke out.

Jason thought that you also must have liked to be the submissive one, as well.

You leaned into him and kissed him again, this time less rough. He moaned into your mouth, slipping his tongue in as he grabbed your hips and tried to rub his cock against your pussy, underneath your dress. He gasped when he felt that you were already bare, and leaking.

“What happened to your- your panties?” he rasped.

“Long gone,” you winked.

“Fuck, you fucking nymph,” he chuckled, and then groaned when you started to slide the head of his cock between your wet lips.

“Jason, I’ve wanted your cock so bad,” you muttered into his ear as you rubbed your slick all over his length, “You’ve no idea how many times I’ve fucked myself with- with whatever I could find, pretending it was you.”

“Fuck, baby,” he whined, throwing his head back against the couch. Your dirty mouth was doing so many things to him, he was worried that he was going to come right there and then.

“After that time I sucked you off?” you continued, “All I wanted was to choke on it, Jay. I just want your dick in my throat.”

You lifted your hips and sank down onto him. Both of you groaned lowly in pleasure. Fuck, you were so tight, and warm, and wet, and oh so soft.

“Ah! Jason!” you cried out when he bottomed out, “Fuck, I’m going to feel you for fucking days.”

“Shit, baby,” he choked, “Baby, please. Please, move.”

“You want me to move?” you teased.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“How would you like me to move, Jay?” you smiled.

“Any- I don’t care-”

“Nice, and slow like this?” you lifted your hips up, and Jason could feel the torturously slow drag of your walls against his shaft, even as you sanked back down you were slow.

“Hnng- fuck-” Jason mewled, lost for words. “Please.”

It was all he could say.

“Or hard and fast like this?” you slammed your hips down, and started bouncing on his cock at a brutal pace that knocked his breath out.

“Fuck!” he yelled, “Fuck, baby, fuck!”

You weren’t being any softer as well. Through tear-filled hazy eyes, Jason saw your eyes fluttered close in pleasure, your mouth falling open as you cried out wanton moans, and gasped, and groaned for him.

“Jason! Fuck, Jay, fuck!”

He couldn’t take it anymore.

He gripped your hips hard, and then started to fuck himself up into you, matching your pace, making you fucking scream.

He could feel your walls tighten around his cock, the same time you started whining, “Jason, Jason, I’m gonna- I’m gonna-”

“Me too, sweetheart, me too,” he gasped.

“Come inside me, Jason, please!” you sobbed.

“But-”

“Just- just- please, please, please,” you squeezed your eyes shut and threw your head back.

Jason felt your pussy clench tight onto him, triggering his own orgasm. He released inside you while still fucking you hard, trying to prolong both of your highs.

Soon, he was oversensitive, the feeling of your walls almost painful. You calmed down, still panting above him, and he just couldn’t help but stare at you in amazement.

“Holy shit,” you giggled above him, “Holy shit, that was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“Uh- I,” he panicked, “I came inside of you, fuck!”

“I’m on the pill, don’t worry,” you smiled, “Fuck, I just. I just wanted to walk around after this with my panties soaked in your cum.”

“How the fuck are you eighteen and already so fucking kinky,” he groaned.

You only laughed and slowly lifted yourself off of him. He hissed at the movement, feeling hypersensitive at every touch.

You went to look for your panties, which Jason noticed were a lacy black, and then put them on under your dress.

He was still sprawled out on the sofa naked, sweaty, and well spent.

“I also didn’t want any of your spunk to get on my dress,” you told him.

“S’pretty dress,” he mumbled back to you.

“You should get dressed, Jay,” you walked towards him, hands on your hips.

“Do I need to get back out there?” he complained, “Can’t I just wait in your room?”

“If you get dressed and attend the party, I’ll let you fuck me with one of your guns,” you promised.

“Really?” his eyes widen, and then he jumped back up to put on his clothes.

“I gotta tell you something, though,” you started.

“What is it?” he hummed, tucking his black shirt into his jeans.

“The safety was on,” you said, “On the gun, I mean. It was loaded, but the safety was on.”

“Oh, baby,” he looked at you seriously, “If you told me the safety was off, I would have shot you myself for being so stupid.”

You giggled.

He gave you his arm. “Shall we?”

“Yes, we shall,” you took it. “By the way.”

“What?”

“Are you going to switch back to a more lax security?”

“And have you breaking in again? You wish, kid.”

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.15

Stressed

01/16/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,747

Warnings: angst, jealousy, anxiety, talks of pregnancy, conception troubles

A/N: I’m sorry this came so late and that it’s taking me time to get these out. I’m writing very slowly right now and I only have my brain to blame. I’m finding it so hard to focus right now and I’m not sure why. I’ve gotten away from my usual habit of writing when I wake up and before I go to sleep. Hopefully, I’ll get back to normal soon. I hope y’all like (hate?) this chapter! Things will start to get tough from here on out. I hope y’all will stick with me through it. xoxo

“Well, I’ve got to get back to my girls. Some of them have taken to sneaking out at night in an attempt to earn their wings. If I catch them, I get to make them do whatever I want and I’m not going to lie, it’s the best part of my day.”

Hilde smiles at you, and you try to give her a returning social exchange with the same energy but your mind and eyes keep drifting back to the astronomer across the room currently chatting with Bruce and Tony animatedly about something scientific that you don’t understand.

“Are you seriously stressing about her?” Hilde asks, exasperated with you already.

“No,” you answer with your feathers obviously ruffled. “I’m not.”

Hilde clearly doesn’t believe you as she skews her lips and tilts her head.

“I’m not!”

You say it too loudly and the trio on the other side of the table turn to look at you.

“Not what?” Tony asks, brow furrowed a little with curiosity.

“She’s not tired,” Hilde covers. “How about a tour from Her Majesty?”

“Uh, yeah, I can give you all a tour of the palace. It’s really big.”

“No,” Tony shakes his head. “No tour for me. As fun as following you around while you brag about how much bigger your house is than mine sounds, I just spent weeks in the trenches and I’m going to try and get some sleep or Pepper will ground me and won’t let me come out and play. So, I think, good night?”

“Right. Of course, yeah. Estrid?” You call out to the two large open doors.

“Yes, Your Majesty?” Estrid hurries into view, giving you a quick curtsy before standing with her hands at her front.

“Can you show Mr. Stark-”

“Really?” he asks, incredulous.

“Sorry, habit,” you laugh nervously. “Can you show Tony to his room, please? And Bruce?”

“Uh, yeah. I’d love some sleep,” he nods, rubbing his chest with one hand in slow circles.

“And Bruce as well,” you nod to Estrid who gives you another curtsy.

They all begin to stand, shoving their chairs back in under the table and taking a last drink.

“And…” with odd trepidation, you look at your husband’s very recent former lover and try not to feel too overwhelmed. “Jane?”

“No, actually I was hoping I could speak with you?”

She takes a step towards you, hands pulled to her front as she fidgets with the tips of her fingers for a second then drops them at her sides.

“Oh, yeah. Sure. Thank you, Estrid. When you’ve escorted the gentlemen to their rooms, come find me so that you can show Jane hers when she’s ready.”

“Very good, Your Majesty,” Estrid nods, another curtsy before she turns to Bruce and Tony who now look nervous too as they give you and then Jane inquisitive looks. “This way, gentlemen.”

As Estrid disappears into the hallway, Tony and Bruce follow slowly leaving you, Hilde, and Jane to stand awkwardly in the smaller of the two dining rooms in the palace.

“Should I stay?” Hilde wonders, inching a little closer to you and reaching out to grab your elbow.

“Hm? No. It’s okay. But if you’re going-?”

“Your Majesty,” Heimdall’s warm voice fills the space strangely washing over you with a soothing calm.

Something about Heimdall always makes you feel at ease and the night suddenly seems very bearable.

“Heimdall will be taking over your care until Thor returns, is that alright?” Hilde checks, sounding genuinely worried.

“Will I do, Your Majesty?” Heimdall asks, his voice a gentle teasing.

“Of course, Heimdall!” your huff of a laugh pulls from him a gentle chuckle and he moves around towards you to draw your hand up to his lips.

It’s a genuine sign of respect and it warms your heart.

“Alright, well, I’m off. I will see you tomorrow, Your Majesty. Jane.” Hilde gives her a nod and quickly slides from the room eager to catch her troops out of bed.

Heimdall makes his way towards Jane and as she turns to him, she smiles wide, “Heimdall, it’s so nice to see you again.”

“Jane Foster,” he says her name in full though it doesn’t sound as if he’s being formal.

In fact, they sound pretty close.

“It has been quite a while.” They hug and your heart gives a strange uncertain clench. “How are you?”

“I’m good, all things considered,” Jane says.

All things considered? What things considered?

“Yes, well…” Heimdall leaves his words hanging there, full of meaning that you don’t understand and suddenly the warmth his greeting had left you with is gone and in its place is a sense of intrusion.

Jane was the Queen they had all been expecting. Suddenly feeling dismal, you turn away from their reunion to fill up your fancy silver cup with wine and take a nice long drink.

Without turning back around to look at her because in the moment you can’t really bear it, you address her and hope that your voice doesn’t give you away.

“What was it that you wanted to speak to me about, Jane?”

Hopefully it has nothing to do with Thor or you might just lose your head a little. While a part of you would very much like to bury the hatchet and put everything that happened with her and Thor in the past behind you, in this moment, the last thing you want to do is talk about how she is or was the love of his life.

That you know, right?

This is all so fucked.

“I was actually just wondering if you had a space that I could set up my equipment? Somewhere with clear access to the sky is preferable, and lots of space? I’ll need to set up my equipment to show Thor--and yourself what I’ve been seeing the last few months.”

You can hear it in her voice that she added you as an afterthought. She came to show Thor. To see him?

You hate this sudden insecurity growing inside of you, this second guessing that didn’t even exist until she walked into your home tonight.

Are you thinking too much? Is this wrong of you? Thor is your husband. He loves you. He says it every day. Several times a day because he knows you need to hear it. He physically shows you, also several times a day if he can. Just today, in the hallway downstairs…

“Your Majesty?” Heimdall prompts, pulling you from your thoughts.

You dismiss his concern without acknowledging it because it’s in his all-seeing eyes. Instead, you focus on Jane.

“I have the perfect space. It’s a bit of a walk. I mean, it’s still on palace grounds, just a bit further up the hill behind us. But it’s an observation tower Loki was having built probably for this exact reason.”

“Perfect,” she smiles, then moves to her chair to pick up a large brown bag you hadn’t noticed she’d brought in here with her. “After you?”

Heimdall follows behind the two of you and Jane follows a step behind as you lead her out of the palace back entrance which is hidden behind a smaller room behind the throne room.

The night is chilly and you wrap your arms around yourself and regret the shorter choice of dress.

Jane also seems to shiver for a moment but her own clothes are more tailored to the weather outside than yours is. Her shiver passes.

“Do you enjoy living here?” she asks.

For a moment you don’t realize she’s talking to you, then when no one else answers, you start and quickly clear your throat.

“Yes, I do. I mean, it’s cold a lot. I’ll be glad when Summer’s here. Spring is also kind of on the chillier side.”

“Yeah,” she smiles, as if she’s been here often.

The silence after her affirmation grows tense and your heart begins to pound as your mind goes into a flurry of what she might have gotten up to here in New Asgard before you’d come into the picture.

Warmth suddenly envelops you and you turn to look at Heimdall as he places his dark cloak over your shoulders.

“Thank you, Heimdall,” you gasp, reaching up to pull the cloak around yourself more tightly.

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Heimdall nods, “It’s my honor.”

The terrain suddenly grows more rugged and Heimdall is quick to offer you his arm as you adjust your steps to accommodate the rockier path.

You make a mental note to have this pathway fixed. Smoothed out and maybe even given a railing as it gets steeper.

The only thing you can hear is the sound of three pairs of feet trudging along shifting stone and dirt then a softer step as the hill evens out a bit more and becomes covered in grass.

When you don’t have to look down at where you’re stepping anymore, you look up at the tower that looms ahead.

The base is made of heavy stone, each placed with precision and reinforced with steel supports. Wooden beams line each of the corners, decorated with carved images of what you can only assume are Asgardian moments in history.

When you’d come to see its progress at the beginning of its creation, you’d recognized the images of Thor and Odin in battle just above the beam that lines the doorway.

The rest of the tower is a mix of wood, stone, and iron. The aesthetic is very much like the palace, Asgardian curves and shapes fit into more modern Norse lines.

The three of you stop as you reach it and Heimdall hurries forward to throw the large door open.

As you step through, you see that the inside of the tower has not changed much since the last time you came to inspect it.

The bottom floor is a large empty room with only a fireplace against the back wall, exposed rafters up above before the height is cut short by the ceiling.

“Wow,” Jane does sound impressed, “This is great. Is there a-?”

“Upstairs,” you point towards the staircase to the right that rises up around the side of the room. “There’s another room, smaller, but it has a lot of balcony space.”

“Great! Thanks,” she sighs with relief as if she really didn’t expect you to give her some space to work, then heads towards the staircase.

“Um, there’s no furniture in here yet. I’ll have someone bring you some tables and chairs, is there anything more specific that you need?”

Jane stops at the foot of the stairs then turns to look at you and then the space of the bottom floor.

“Would it be possible to get a bed in here? You’re right, and it is a long way from the palace. I’m gonna be in here probably all the time so…?”

You know that she isn’t asking for the impossible or anything out of the question, but suddenly the idea of making this tower her little space has a whole other life playing out in your head.

A life where you had married Thor and he had been unable to give up Jane. A life of her living here at the palace with you in her own space where Thor can come and be with her in private away from prying eyes while still giving the appearance of being with you, his Queen in name only.

“Your Majesty?” Heimdall prompts you quietly, reaching out to touch your elbow again and pull you from the pain and panic you’re trying to hide.

You force a smile, a small shake of your head, “Yes, of course. Sorry, I’ve had a busy day. I’ll have them bring you everything you need within the hour.”

“Thank you. Once I have everything set up I’ll make sure to show you what I’ve found and then Thor can um, plan for what might come?”

“Of course,” you agree, eager to get the hell out of here and back to your room where you can fall apart in private. “Now, I hope you’ll excuse my bad hosting skills, but I really am super tired and I think I’m going to turn in a little early.”

“Oh, yeah, sure! No problem at all,” Jane smiles, “Thank you for all your help. And dinner! Dinner was so good. Thanks.”

“My pleasure. I’ll let Cook know,” you nod, hoping that your smile isn’t too tense for the moment. “Good night.”

“Night!”

You’re almost grateful for the cold night air as it bites the skin of your cheeks. Anything is better than the stress you just felt in that tower.

You hear the heavy door of the tower close behind you, then Heimdall’s footsteps join your own though your heavy breathing is alone as he walks calmly beside you.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Heimdall wonders, gentle and honestly concerned.

“I’m fine,” You lie.

“Does having Jane Foster here bother you? There is no need for you to worry. I have seen Thor be with many women-”

“Oh, my God,” and you can’t help but huff a laugh. “Not helping, Heimdall.”

“-and I have never seen him be with anyone the way he is with you. It’s more than just love. It's a partnership. Companionship. It’s friendship. Trust. After their initial reconnection, Thor’s trust in Jane and their courtship dwindled and as you know, by the end, it was completely gone.”

“So, what you’re saying is he’s so sure that I love him that he has no reason to worry?”

Which is true, you do and he has no reason to worry about you not loving him or falling for someone else at this point. You can’t even imagine being with anyone the way you’ve been with Thor.

“He’s not afraid to lose me?” You hate giving into these thoughts.

Honestly though, talking about them to someone will help you sleep tonight. Maybe.

“Yes,” Heimdall agrees. “And no. Even now, this very moment, all he can think of is you.”

You stop walking, stunned by his words because you’ve never asked him to look for you. You’ve heard Thor ask him to see things before, to search, and Heimdall always has. It had never crossed your mind to do the same.

Then again, this is the first time you and Thor have been apart since before you were married.

“What-You can see him?” Heimdall looks down at your feet, focuses what must be his mental eyes, and then slowly nods.

“He’s distressed at leaving you here alone, he’s finding it hard to focus on what Fandral is telling him and Fandral is growing more and more upset.”

You smile, completely absorbed by this information.

“Did he ever ask you to look for her? For Jane?”

Your words are quiet, hesitant, though your heart feels slightly more at ease by Heimdall’s reassurance.

“In the very beginning of their courtship, just after he left Earth and the bifrost was destroyed. Their love was new then. It was short-lived. Then Thor came back to Earth and they were able to be together, for a time.

“But their compatibility has always had its trials. After some time together, Thor was called back to the Universe and Jane had her own work to do. Their responsibilities have always pulled them apart and if I’m honest, Thor is the more hopeless romantic between them.”

You think about all of the small things that Thor has done for you since you came back home. The flowers, the baths, surprise dinners, the small presents hidden under your pillow or in drawers he knows you’ll get into. He’s done a lot more to show you he’s thinking about you during the day than you have and you can understand what Heimdall is saying.

You’re not so much a gift giver in love it seems, and instead give him all of the affection he’d seemed so starved for in the beginning.

“Her being here will not damage your marriage. Trust me.” Heimdall finishes.

You lead the walk again, moving slower but calmer after Heimdall’s reassurance.

“Will you come back up and check that Jane gets everything she needs? We really should have had the tower set up a long time ago.”

“As soon as I am certain you are in your quarters safe, with a guard outside your door, yes. I can ensure that she has everything that she requires.”

For a few minutes you walk in silence, at ease. When you reach the back doors of the palace however and he holds the doors open for you, you turn to Heimdall and after a quick bite to your lip, “Is he still with Fandral?”

Heimdall smiles and nods, “Fandral is yelling at him for not paying attention.”

Both of you laugh.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s so early when you wake. It’s still dark outside and you’re almost sure that sunrise is still a few hours away.

You’re exhausted. Eyes burning as you push yourself up and the night plays itself over.

So suddenly you’re anxious again, nerves making your fingertips tingle and your stomach do an uncomfortable flip as you turn over onto your back to look at Thor’s side of the bed.

It’s undisturbed. Both pillows are still in their made up position.

He said he’d be back very late at night, early morning at the latest. You’d been hoping for the former.

With a groan, you sit up, sliding slowly down to the end of the bed and the bench where Thor sits to put his boots on.

You’re so groggy. The night was restless and you’ve really only gotten about an hour of sleep. Two at the most.

It’s stuffy in the room, the fire still burning and leaving you a little sticky from being huddled underneath a heavy blanket because you’d missed the weight of Thor’s arms all night.

The large glass doors across from you rattle from the wintry breeze outside, beckoning you forward for relief from this heat.

As you step on the floor, your body is rocked with a shiver that pushes you up onto your toes. As fancy as this palace is, you’ll have to ask Thor if it’s possible to get some heated floors installed.

Moving as quickly as you can, you don’t stop until you’re at the doors and then thrust them open and absolutely inhale the frigid late night air.

You scan the distant ocean as it spreads into the horizon, the sky it touches still an inky black with a breathtaking scattering of stars.

You can hear the Valkyrie below in their barracks and training grounds already working hard to get into shape. Hilde must have really caught them sneaking out.

Heimdall should be waiting close by. You really want to see if he has news about Thor’s schedule and if maybe he’s on his way home and just running late.

As you turn to walk back into the room, you freeze as your eyes scan the tower you’d set Jane up in.

From this angle you have a clear view of the balcony. She’s already set up her equipment. You didn’t know that you could see this well into the tower.

It’s all lit up like a beacon in the dark.

It’s an unpleasant reminder that she’s here and you make a mental note to keep the curtains drawn when you know she’s up there. Which you realize that unfortunately, will probably mean all the time.

Sighing, you move towards the door but then freeze again as Thor moves from the balcony doorway towards a large telescope attached to what looks like heavily modified computers.

He’s still in uniform, smiling. Behind him, Jane follows, arms wrapped around herself before she stops too close to Thor for your liking.

She rushes around him and looks through the eyepiece. You can see her talking away, mouth moving at the speed of light as she explains something to him, her hands flying around her as she talks, apparently the cold is forgotten.

She pulls away from the telescope as Thor chuckles then moves back inside out of sight as Thor sidles up to the eyepiece but doesn’t touch it yet.

The telescope moves, clearly Jane adjusting it from inside where she must have set up her computer equipment.

Thor takes a step back then the telescope stops and Jane flutters back out onto the balcony and gestures for Thor to look through.

He does, Jane moves in beside him, saying something that must be a whisper if she’s standing that close. He says something back.

The two of them having a pleasant conversation.

The clench in your chest feels choking.

Thor pulls back from the eyepiece and turns to look at her.

He’s too far away for you to see his expression, too small. But their faces are so close and he doesn’t pull away.

You sink back into your room, terrified to see something that will ruin the perfect bliss you’ve been in these first three months of your marriage.

Not that it isn’t already ruined. You’ve been a mess since Jane showed her face and now with what you just saw, how can you feel anything but lousy?

You don’t do what you want to do. You don’t slink back into bed and hide under the covers to wallow.

Instead you move to your closet and look for a dignified dress. Something that you can wear that will scream Queen of New Asgard but also be relaxed enough for you to work in.

You choose something with a simple cut. Long sleeves, a deep V in the front, with a loose flowing skirt but a tight bodice to match the equally tight sleeves. The color is an iridescent black that shimmers in teal and startling pink.

The color reminds you of the northern lights with a splash of the hazy pink in the orion nebula. It’s beautiful and otherworldly, and it screams Queen of Asgard in casual formal.

With the dress you move back into the room and hang it on the small stand in front of the full length mirror by your vanity before grabbing some new underwear and moving into the bath.

You ignore the large tub you and Thor have spent hours upon hours in and quickly shower instead. You emerge fresh and clean, though not exactly refreshed.

You’re stepping out of the shower when your bedroom doors open and you freeze, staring at them as they swing forward with your hands pressed to the top of your towel holding it shut.

Your heart drops when Estrid smiles prettily at you, turning around to close the doors as she greets you.

“Good morning, Your Majesty, did you sleep well?” She moves straight for your vanity to pull out the brush, pins, and makeup she usually uses on you in the morning.

She’s in here much earlier than normal and she can’t have gotten that much sleep herself. She’s so attuned to you now that you’re worried for her but also grateful.

“Good morning, Estrid,” you reply, refusing to answer her question because she’d only worry. “Did Ms. Foster get all of the things she needed in the tower?”

“Yes, m’am. Heimdall made sure that she had everything she would need for her research before he retired to stand guard at your door.”

You have an endless stream of questions about Thor in your head, things you want to ask Estrid but you bite your tongue as Estrid helps you on with your dress then sits you down at your vanity to dry your hair and work on today’s set of braids.

Time passes as she works. Time that feels like seconds to you as your mind works hard to try and reassure your heart that you have nothing to worry about, and yet, it still aches.

“You’re very quiet this morning, Your Majesty,” she observes.

“Yeah. I don’t really feel like talking unless I have to.”

“Very well, Your Majesty,” she accepts, but then after a few minutes of silence. “Are you not feeling well? Shall I send for the doctor?”

“No, Estrid. I’m not sick. I’m-shit, what’s the date today?”

Reaching around, you look for your phone to check the date.

“‘Tis the fifteenth, Your Majesty,” Estrid informs you.

“Did you forget about me already?” A deep smooth voice slides in from your doorway and you turn in search of the comfort the tone gives you.

“David!”

On your feet and across the room, David greets you with open arms. A small firm hug is what he gives you before kissing the side of your head and then pushing you back to look at you.

His eyes linger on your stomach for a moment before he frowns playfully.

“Nothing yet? I guess we’ll find out today if we’re to expect anything in the next month.”

“No pressure,” you reply sarcastically.

David chuckles, his fancy four piece navy suit a display of his busy nature. As much as he wants to visit, you know that he’s busier now with so many people wanting his services. The prestige of being the Queen of New Asgard’s lawyer has brought him a windfall.

Not that he needs it, but he appreciates the work.

“I did forget we had a testing today. Something happened yesterday.”

Your voice filters into a whisper at the end, though you’re not even aware of it.

David matches your energy, though he doesn’t whisper, he recognizes your stress and concern saturates his entire person.

“What’s happened?”

“I-” You look towards Estrid, and she’s so good that she’s cleaning your vanity, ignoring your conversation as best she can, but still. “Estrid, were you finished with my hair?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she turns to you and smiles. “Will you be needing anything else? Breakfast in the breakfast room?”

“Are you hungry, David?”

“No, I’m not. Thank you.”

“No breakfast, Estrid. Thank you. When the doctor arrives, can you show him in?”

Estrid curtsies, and without another word, she leaves you and David in the room.

“You look beautiful today, by the way,” David tells you as he moves towards the small table in the corner to sit but waits for you to reach your chair first to pull it out for you.

“Thanks, I chose it very carefully,” you admit. “Does it make me look like a real Queen?”

“You are a real Queen,” David assures you, then cocks his head as he registers your stress again. “What happened last night?”

You sigh heavily, using your nails to pick at the woodgrain of the table, shoulders slouched a little as you deflate.

“Jane showed up with Tony and Bruce,” you reveal, a shaky breath accompanying your desperate information.

“Oh? At Thor’s invitation?” David wonders, which honestly sobers you up a little from your depression.

“No. I don’t think so. I mean, Tony and Bruce were supposed to come to install a security system for the palace and I guess maybe she just tagged along?”

“And you are upset that your husband’s former lover has forced her way into your new home.”

It’s not a question. David has always been very observant and he sucks for it. Jerk.

“Well...yeah. But that’s not why-”

“Something else happened?”

David leans towards you and places his hand over yours, a soft knowing look on your surrogate father’s face.

With a quick little sigh you tell him about your stress over not getting pregnant and the pressures from the ambassadors to do that before more time goes by to secure the ties between the Asgardians to Earth. You tell him about your worries about Jane that have died down a little since you and Thor got married but have never truly gone away. Lastly, you tell him about what you saw this morning and how you’d been expecting Thor to come directly to you when he got back but clearly that’s not happening.

“Maybe I’m being too sensitive? But I mean, it’s been what? An hour and a half since you got here and he still hasn’t come to look for me?”

You reach over and rub your arm, the soft fabric of your dress pleasing but only in the back of your mind where you’re not thinking about Thor and Jane.

“If that is how you feel, then that is how you feel. The important part now is talking to Thor about it. Couples lose out when they feel about something the way that they do and then keep it to themselves. Even Gods are not mind readers.”

David tilts his head, eyes looking across the room for a moment before he looks right back at you.

“At least not to my knowledge.”

You almost smile, but the stress of talking to Thor about this is giving your anxiety a nice boost.

“What if I don’t like what he says?”

“Then you don’t like it. You cannot avoid the confrontation because you might not hear what you want to hear. That is not how a marriage, or any relationship works. In big moments like these, honesty I think is the best policy.”

He’s right of course. You know he is. That doesn’t mean you have to like it.

You close your eyes and try to see Thor’s handsome face smiling sweetly at you, just as he had yesterday before he left. Instead you see him smiling down at Jane next to that stupid telescope, him chuckling at whatever she’s saying as she talks away about her work.

Two knocks to your door pull you from your stupid thoughts and drop your heart into the pit of your stomach, but Estrid peeks in to make sure that you’re okay to see her.

Suddenly, you’re dreading seeing Thor.

“Come in, Estrid.”

She moves in, behind her follows two doctors. One is a woman with a lovely heart shaped face and long full dark brown hair that compliments her olive skin. She’s wearing a sleek gray pantsuit, pink camisole underneath, and a thick black coat draped over her arm.

Her name is Amana Wilson and she has been your gynecologist since David gave you your inheritance and you were able to afford better healthcare.

The second doctor is an older man with a thick black beard streaked through with bits of gray. He glows an almost ethereal way. Clearly Asgardian. Your general caregiver since you moved to New Asgard, Doctor Alric Orvinson smiles eagerly, kindly, a pure excitement radiating off of him.

He’s always so eager to put everything he’s learning into practice.

Doctor Wilson curtsies and Doctor Alric bows before they both greet you in unison.

“Your Majesty,” they say.

David waits until you’re standing before he stands too, but then he moves towards the doors.

“I think I’ll go have some of that breakfast you offered me,” he tells you then makes his way towards the large doors. “Doctors, I know you will give Her Majesty the best care you can offer?”

“Of course,” Doctor Wilson assures him and he leaves you with a quick wink of his eye.

“Thank you, Estrid. Make sure David gets a proper meal? No pop tarts!”

“Party pooper!” David shouts back.

Estrid curtsies, “Right away, Your Majesty.”

She leaves you quickly with a chuckle in her throat at your exchange with David.

As the door closes, you take a step towards your doctors and slowly release a held breath.

“So, what will it be today? Should I go strip or…?”

“No. Not today. Since we did a physical on you last time, we won’t worry about that during this visit,” Doctor Wilson assures you.

“Today, Doctor Wilson will be watching me take some blood and perform a pregnancy test to see if you are expecting our heir!”

Our heir?

New Asgard sees the future prince or princess to come as their own. It’s not just your and Thor’s baby. This baby, if and when there is a baby, is an entire people’s baby.

You feel your anxiety rise again. Clenching your hands, you nod and force a smile as Doctor Alric moves towards you with a large metallic box that he places down and opens.

Inside comes a rush of cold air and what looks like medical equipment used to test blood. You don’t know what it’s called and it’s super high tech. Nothing that you’ve ever seen before.

Your two tests before had been sent to labs and then you’d received the results a few days later, if they’re testing the blood here, does that mean faster results?

“So, how long will I have to wait this time then? To know whether I’m doing my job or not?”

Doctor Alric looks up at you with slight surprise and worry.

There must be something in your voice since he seems to realize what he’s said is putting pressure on you because he stands up straight and fixes his own suit jacket before speaking.

“Your Majesty,” he begins, but Doctor Wilson moves to stand beside you and places her hand on your shoulder.

“Within the hour. This is Stark tech, so it’ll be quick and accurate. Have you been stressing about getting pregnant?” She’s so much softer than Doctor Alric, but not because she’s a woman.

She just knows you better.

“Kinda hard not to with an entire planet waiting for it,” you admit. “Do you think that if-if it’s negative, should Thor and I stop trying so hard? We’re trying daily. No breaks.”

“I think the stress more than the trying will probably make it harder but you’re both healthy. It will happen. If you are tired and you think the stress is too much, then take a break. It won’t do any harm if you lose a couple nights of sleeping with your husband.”

You feel a swell of relief for this human woman who knows just what to say. You give her a sly smirk.

“Have you seen my husband? It’ll hurt.”

She laughs a quick knowing chuckle, “Trust me, you don’t gotta tell me how fine he is, Your Majesty.”

Both of you laugh a few seconds then you take the seat that Doctor Alric sets beside you and while you roll up your sleeve, he and Doctor Wilson fly off into medical jargon that you don’t understand and consequently zone out into thoughts of Thor and why the fuck he still hasn’t come to see you.

[blxetsi]

Hi! Can I please request modern au hcs for Armin?

tysm for requesting !!

modern armin arlert dating headcanons

lowercase intended !

college!armin arlert x gn!reader

- okay so

- i think in a college setting you and armin hit it off really well

- i think you guys wouldve just accidentally kept bumping into each other, whether it be around campus, at some coffee shop, in the library

- it gets so frequent you dont even know if its a coincidence at this point, yet you cant help but hope that you seem him whenever you go out

- after ALWAYS bumping into each other and apologizing before making small talk, armin makes the first move

- mf just says "are you following me ?" to which you reply "are YOU following me ?"

- that night ends in you two exchanging numbers 🤩

- you find out that hes a humanities major, and wants to be a psychologist some day

- you also find out he has a paid internship at a research facility near the university you attend

- hes super sweet but also super humble, so he tries not to keep the subject on himself for very long, just wanting to know more about you

- as you two get closer he gets more touchy (not in a weird way)

- he starts greeting you with hugs now, and likes to have a light grip on your wrist when hes leading you through crowded hallways of the school

- he introduced you to his bestfriends and roommates, mikasa and eren, and they were really accepting !! (they already could tell armin liked you even if he didnt know himself)

- you start developing feelings for him about two months after you exchanged numbers, and you honestly felt really weird

- because this beautiful boy whos so sweet and kind and intelligent is like,, wayyyy out of your league

- armin thinks the exact same thing

- he thinks youre so cool and fun to be around, you always have the best stories to tell and are so welcoming,, its HARD not to fall for someone like you !!

- finally he gets up the courage to ask if you can come to his apartment

- and there he confesses 😳💥‼️

- you sit there shocked for a couple seconds too long because now hes freaking out like "im so sorry i didnt wanna seem creepy i just wanted to tell you how i felt you can leave or i can walk you home- wait you probably wouldnt want that but-"

- you just kind of grab his shoulders and start shaking him. before you tell him you like him too.

- the apples of his cheeks turn pink before he smiles and gives you such a tight hug !!

- hes immediately planning a date with you for when youre both free

- takes you to the local aquarium 🤩 and kisses you in front of the moon jellies (u know those big tanks with the jellyfish that are like glow in the dark ?? and the whole hallway is pitch black except for the lights from the tank ?? yeah ❤️ he kissed you THERE and it was beautiful)

- has chapped lips 😐 sorry i dont make the rules

- has a habit of picking them when hes working or lost in thought

- doesnt mean you stop kissing him tho

- is the kind of guy that will genuinely get worried if you send an "sos" type message. gets out of his own class just to speedwalk (he isnt gonna break the rules and run in the halls 🙄) and come to your class just to see if youre okay

- looks at you like 😐 when you explain you just need him to get you an iced coffee from that shitty coffee place in the cafeteria

- does it anyway even though hes annoyed 😌✨

- will grumble about paying him back for the five dollars he just spent on you while you kiss him over and over again in thanks

- doesnt let you pay him back though smh 🙄

- loves to give back hugs

- will do it while youre working, or while youre doing the dishes

- if youre shorter than him he'll rest his head on your and just smell your hair

- if youre taller than him hes shoving his face inbetween your shoulder blades

- is such a lightweight drunk its not even funny

- none of his friends are tbh 🙄

- the first time you saw him drunk was when eren dragged you guys out to a party their friend was hosting (literally interrupted your cuddle time in armins bed to THROW OFF THE BLANKETS and say "you guys are coming with me 😁👍" and when you two said no he TURNED ON THE LIGHTS and ruined the vibe 😐 fucking asshole)

- anyways you two had to change back into your clothes at 9pm just to go to a shitty party that was gonna get busted by the cops anyways 😔💔

- you couldnt find him through the sea of people, and u got really worried until armin called you

- it was not armin on the other line 😁👍

- he said his name was reiner ?? and he said he was with armin bc he puked while playing beer pong

- the guy tells you where they are and you go to find them. theyre sitting on this couch in a backroom and theres only like,, five people in total there ??

- armin is SOBBING while reiner is trying to get him to drink water

- "reiner you dont get it,,, theyre so beautiful. i cant compete. i dont even think theyd wanna be with me. and you have to see them talk about their major. theyre so smart you dont understand." "okay buddy lets just finish this water okay ?"

- armin is leaning his shoulder on this GIANT of a man just going on about how much he loves you and how amazing he finds you. until you tap his shoulder. and then he realizes youve been listening this entire time. and then he starts crying because he doesnt want you to find him weird. and then you have to explain to him that you two are dating. where he doesnt believe you still.

- eren ends up giving you the keys to his car and saying "ill just call you when i need a ride back" and reiner CARRIES armin to the car 😭😭😭

- hes a real gentleman 😁👍

- that morning armin remembers EVERYTHING and is MORTIFIED

- calls reiner immediately like "did people see me puke ? oh god am i gonna be talked about ?"

- has very vivid dreams and remembers all of them ?? will literally tell you about a dream he had when he was five and WILL NOT forget a detail. its weird

- his family actually doesnt seem like they like you 😳 not because they dont theyre just very,, quiet people...... except for his grandfather

- doesnt even care who you are to armin, will pull you down on the couch with him to tell you about all his research and findings as an archeologist (before he retired)

- if youre ever feeling sad about anything, whether that be stress, family problems, or body image issues, armins taking you to his place 😁👍

- he'll cuddle you and whisper how much he loves you while you two are watching something on his laptop

- has acne scars on his shoulders. dont make fun of him for it pls

- loves getting back scratches though, the tingles make him feel really calm

- if you have like,, makeup brushes and stuff he likes it when you brush his face with them, no product or anything but the tingles he gets from it 🤤

- over time his parents warm up to you quiet a bit, and when his mom shows you baby photos and from him as a kid youre SHOCKED.

- he had this little bob cut from when he was ten to his teens 🥺🥺🥺🥺

- when you two are walking back home or wherever you cant help but go on about how cute he was and how healthy and pretty his hair looked (not that its not healthy or pretty now) and he just giggles before pulling you into his side and kissing your cheek while saying "okay baby, ill grow it out just for you then"

- also loves the petnames baby, angel, and love

- will gladly let you steal his sweaters. has a really nice knit one that his grandma made him before she died. that ones off limits.

- doesnt like to fight, but when he feels like hes in the right he wont hesitate to yell back when youre yelling at him

- just dont yell at him pls, it makes him sad

- it takes him a while (and by a while i mean like 30 minutes at most) before his texting you asking if you guys can talk about it

- its really easy for you two to make up, and immediately hes hugging you and just asking if you wanna do something with him

- also, cuts his own hair ?? and would cut yours if you asked. mikasa vouches for him "yeah he trims my hair all the time. why ?"

- every year on your anniversary hes taking you to the aquarium. and he always kisses you as softly as he did the very first time, in the dark hallway of the moon jellyfish tank ✨

a/n

THATS ITTT !!! thanks again for requesting !! i hope you all enjoyed. remember asks are open !! u dont have to request headcanons either !!! go crazy friends !!

[jackarychaoti]

DWC2021-10 - Feast/Sleepless

- [ MUSIC ] -

“I’m dying, Jackary.”

The words caught the beast off guard as he strolled through the quiet forest of Teldrassil, barefoot and allowing his ever-present trail of flowers to flow in his wake. Next to the tall blond had been a far shorter elf-shaped man, armed to the teeth in weaponry and dressed in form-fitting leather. While they were a stark contrast to one another, the words alone had drawn Jackary to a standstill.

“I... What?”

It was right after a family feast, right after a great speech had been given about coming changes and freedom and how deeply the rogue appreciated the family he had built over the years. The pair had been laughing together, reminiscing about the past... And suddenly…

Suddenly it made sense.

“Don’t fuck around with me like that, Lok’,” Jack couldn’t help but awkwardly laugh as if it was some stupid joke that his cousin had decided to drop. If he, in his early life, was a sigil of life, his best friend was the sigil of death. They complimented each other, they went everywhere together. Of all things, Lokitan was the reason Jack wound up in Azeroth in the first place.

“I wish I could,” Loki hummed, slowing to a standstill where he could finally light a cigarette he’d fetched and drew in a deep inhale, calming the nerves that were rising in the conversation at hand.”I am fadin’ away and I can feel it, won’t be long now.”

Jack stood silently in disbelief, the reason they had gone walking through an Alliance claimed territory wasn’t to simply ruffle some feathers, it was because it was where their journey had begun together. It was made clear when Jack looked anywhere but at his cousin, realizing he was in the near exact spot he’d appeared in his own crash landing.

‘So, what? You brought me out here to--”

“To say goodbye, yeah.” Cutting off the emerald, Lokitan lifted a crimson eye upward, staring for a long moment. He gave a small smirk. “It’ll be alright, you’ll be fine.”

Would he?

Claws pushed through Jack's long, unruly locks of hair to pull them back and up into a ponytail, keeping the weighted tresses from his face while it gave him time to think, “So just like that, you’re… You’re gone then. When--?” As he questioned just how long Lokitan had left, when he turned to face his cousin, he could already see parts of the rogue turning brittle, fluttering away in the faint, cool breeze around them like nothing more than ash.

“We have outstayed our welcome, you and I.” Lokitan drew in another slow inhale of his cigarette, pondering over what he wanted his final words to be. “We’ve also been through a lot, ever since we were little. We always got into so much shit, heh...” The shadowed dragon smirked to himself, baring a set of fangs in amusement. Bittersweet really, that it was to be Jackary he spent his final moments with when it had also been Jack that helped bring him into the world to cause chaos.

“Do you have any regrets…?” Jack asked quietly, finding himself fidgeting with his own fingers.

“A few,” Loki replied rather abruptly, wetting his lips while his vision raised to look up at the trees above, noting the stars beyond the greenery. “I regret not coming sooner to help you that night, I regret you binding your wings to service. I regret falling in love…” He trailed off at that point, seeming less inclined to want to discuss it.

Jack frowned further, still attempting to wrap his head around what was happening, and yet there he stood, speaking casually with the man that may as well have been his own brother, they were of flesh and blood. Two princes that ran away from home and carried their heritage only by name. Chaoti meant nothing in Azeroth. Jaden and Heran meant nothing, either. They were just names, something no one even blinked at. And of all of the travels the two had been through, the endless adventures or bickering or laughter or beauty or horror, suddenly it was just… ending.

Just like that.

Everything had an ending, certainly, but…

“Don’t leave me…”

Lokitan barked out a bout of laughter at that, smiling as he glanced over to Jackary, though he could see just how much the Emerald was hurting. Such caused that smile to falter. “I can’t stay…”

“You can....” Jack furrowed, shaking his head a bit before throwing his hand out to the side. “You of all people can stay! You can’t leave me..! YOU CAN’T LEAVE ME, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!” The voice echoed through the quiet trees, ruffling the feathers of a few birds that flitted away, the echo faded soon after.

“Jackary... Don’t make this harder than it is.”

“No! Fuck you! Fuck you,” Jack inhaled a bit, eyes narrowed when the unnatural sting formed in their corners. Each motion became a pacing step back and forth, his hair swayed behind him. Flowers and grass only further grew outward from his position only to die once close enough to the stand-still rogue. “You brought me here. We came here together, I came here for YOU, WITH YOU! We promised each other we’d never leave one another’s side, you fucking LIAR! You promised, Lokitan Jaden! YOU PROMISED ME!”

Watching the Emerald struggle with anything brought on the protective nature of the small Infinite. Through the beast’s rapidly increased pacing, a hand reached over to suddenly grab Jack’s arm to yank him over and downward into a tight hug.

Loki never hugged anyone.

“Jackary…” He whispered softly, fondly in the captured drake’s ear. “You have been the only one in our family, our past, or history that has ever shown me kindness and love. You’ve had endless patience, you’ve also been a complete fuckwit and you deserve that scar on your chin for what you did, but… You’re going to be okay. You’re going to move forward from this and you will find a new life, a new love, and a new family. You will find people you belong to… Beyond our name, beyond our past transgressions…. Someday you’ll forget about the horrors..”

“I don’t want to…” When had Jackary hugged back? When had he been hunching and clinging so tightly that he could hear the groaning echoes of the leather giving way to the grasp? “Please, I’ve had you with me all my life… Please… I need someone to keep me sane, to keep me in check. Please don't go.”

“You’ll find someone who will stand up to you and your bullshit. You’ll find a warm home again. I know this…” Lokitan sank faintly into the larger male’s grip, feeling the weakening sensation growing even more. “I know this because you have an air about you and people will find you addictive to be around. Keep your wings... Keep your wings and soar…”

“Don’t make me stay here alone…” Nails bit into the leathers, though with every passing second, he could feel the tension of a body between his arms begin to wilt and crumble, he couldn’t even look. He couldn’t bring himself to see Lokitan fade away. A man who had saved his life and who had saved him from the horrors of his ex-wife. His best friend.

“I love you, Jackary Heran.”

Those were the final words that escaped before arms found themselves collapsing around nothing but an ash pile of leathers and knives. The weaponry clanked when it hit the forest floor, leaving the black dust to cling to Jackary’s figure.

When had he dropped to his knees?

When had it become so dark?

When had rain gradually washed the ash from his skin?

When had Loki known he was going to die and why hadn’t he told Jackary about it?

Rock after rock, stone after stone, a small, unmarked grave was built, tucked away where no adventurer could find it unless they knew where to look. A sleepless night was spent marking the spot where the rogue had finally fallen.

When had this happened?

When did the memory of it start to fade?

A grave that would be of importance later, but that was for another story.

| - @daily-writing-challenge - |

[mythicandco]

I have 1% Battery Left And I’m Wasting it on This

A.K.A. Philip B. Wittebane (in which the “B” stands for “Belos”)

Warning: More than 90% of this is pure headcanoning and theorizing, based on the evidence that’s arisen and the ideas of many other members of the fandom. This theory has been circling the Owl House fandom for months, I DID NOT ORIGINALLY CREATE IT. Brooke and North are from this and so is some of the story, but the majority of the details are the work of my own convoluted brain. This was kinda disproved by Yesterday’s Lie but I want to post it before my computer dies. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this summarized monstrosity… 

Everything is once again below the cut

Philip stumbles into the Boiling Isles by complete accident while on a hike through the woods, tripping into a rift in the fabric of space-time created by Titan’s blood interacting with other various magical substances. He doesn’t realize he’s in another realm until he actually stops to look around, and is startled to come face-to-face with a trio of witches. 

The first witch, Brooke, is taller than their companions, with a big ol’ witchy hat and a pair of grey, tasseled earrings. North, only slightly shorter than Brooke, has a similar hat along with a matching cloak and blonde, curled hair. Her face is covered in scars. The last witch is Kirani, who ends up being a minor character but eh.

The trio is here to collect Titan’s blood for Brooke’s experiments with magic. They believe that by using their knowledge of potions, they can create an elixir of some form to allow witches to perform magic without the use of glyphs. The exact recipe is a work in progress, but they know that Titan’s blood will be a key ingredient. 

When the group first encounters Philip, they are startled by his small, round ears. The bemused human assures them he means no harm and eventually they decide that even if he does want to hurt them, he doesn’t have access to the magical knowledge to do so. This is further proven when a dragon nearly eats Philip (more on that later). They take him to their village to help him find a way home and survive until then. 

Over the next five or so years the group spends a lot of time together, Philip begins writing a journal, and North, Brooke and Philip form a friendship, often going on adventures together with the help of their palismans. North even trusts Philip enough to let him use her staff for transportation until he eventually gets the chance to carve his own. During this time Philip also learns a lot about glyph magic and the creatures of the Boiling Isles, and is surprised at how naturally it comes for him to draw the glyphs from memory and get them right. 

At one point Philip and the others travel to the Knee to retrieve some Titan’s blood from Eclipse Lake. Brooke stays behind to start collecting the other, more local ingredients to their spell, and North is forced to stay behind due to injuries sustained after fighting off a swarm of small, dragon-like creatures.

The expedition is a disaster, and after mistaking fool’s blood for Titan’s blood, Philip is the only one who makes it out alive following the cave-in. Philip is horrified at this turn of events but simultaneously relieved that Brooke and North didn’t accompany him on this particular mission. He comes back with the Titan’s blood, but not the rest of the group, and has to explain what happened. 

The village begins spreading rumors that he killed them to take the blood for himself, or that he is too incompetent to continue leading these expeditions. Brooke and North also get a share of the blame, being the ones who brought the human to their village in the first place. Brooke retreats to their study for a few weeks, taking the Titan’s blood with them. 

Things get even worse after the Titan’s blood excursion and the neighboring witch tribes hear about the dangerous human who supposedly kills witches and other creatures in cold blood for his own gain. (Rumors are nasty things, slightly more terrifying the longer they’re out there.) Philip finds it almost ironic that in this world of freaks and monsters, he’s the target of the torches and pitchforks. 

While out trading at a small market shared by a couple of the tribes, North is confronted by the leader of another clan and accused of betraying her kind. Things escalate quickly and she barely gets out without things coming to blows. 

Philip starts worrying that he is becoming a burden and a danger to the others, not because he actually wants to hurt them, but because they will get in trouble for sheltering him. He offers to help out Brooke with the portal, which is nearly finished. While they are distracted, he pockets some of the Titan’s blood and some other magical supplies from when Brooke was experimenting with improving a witch’s ability to perform magic. 

Philip uses the potion on himself, but because he is human, not a witch or demon, and isn’t connected to the Titan, he can only use magic by taking it from another source. He starts off using various plants and the horns and tusks of the creatures the village usually uses for jewelry or tosses aside after, I dunno, making a pie with it or something, and practices using spell circles in secret, making sure he can defend himself and the others should the need arise. 

Soon he discovers that he needs more and more magic to stay powerful - to stay stable - and slips up in front of Brooke, losing control for less than a moment before using a spare flower he’d been keeping in his back pocket as a gift for North.

Brooke, understandably, is freaked out by what the fuck just happened and Philip begs for them to keep it a secret. He admits that he stole some of Brooke’s concoctions so that he could protect himself from the witches of the other tribes, and that he needs a reliable source of energy to continue using magic. Brooke argues that what he’s doing is dangerous and unnatural, and that a human shouldn’t be able to use magic the way he does. 

Philip is furious, yelling at Brooke for hogging all of the magic for themselves. He says that where he comes from, witches were supposed to be burned at the stake or drowned. Brooke, horrified, backs away. Philip realizes he’s gone too far and flees back to the home he and the witches constructed when he first arrived in the Boiling Isles. 

His state continues to worsen, and eventually he is driven to snap his own palisman in order to consume its essence. With horrified awe, Philip discovers palismen hold far more magical energy than the little table scraps he’d been collecting before. He is able to briefly rejoin the rest of the tribe, but Brooke doesn’t speak to him and he keeps thinking about his broken palisman.

A few days later Brooke finally finishes the portal and gives Philip the key. The human doesn’t get the chance to test out the door before one of the rival tribes attacks the village out of nowhere and Philip joins in defending the people he’s spent years with. North is stunned that he can weave magic without the use of glyphs, but she doesn’t have the time to consult Brooke on where the human gained this new ability. 

At some point Philip corners the leader of the rival clan and nearly kills her, running out of magic just before the final blow is dealt. He reaches for the nearest source of power - North’s palisman - and snaps it in half. 

For a few moments, North and Brooke process what just happened amidst the chaos. Then the fighting stops and everyone watches as Philip finishes consuming the palisman’s essence. 

Philip looks up with glowing eyes and pauses, confused at everyone’s expressions. The fighting picks back up, this time directed at him, and someone throws a spear straight through his chest. It goes in one side and comes out the other, but the human(?) remains unharmed. The witches and demons start freaking the fuck out, because wouldn’t you in this situation? 

Finally registering what he’s done, a horrified Philip backs away and makes a break for the trees. He never sees Brooke or North again. 

In a clearing in the woods, Philip summons the door to the Human Realm but doesn’t have the courage to step through. He realizes that he is no better than the other monsters of the Demon Realm. He’d probably be shunned if he went home. Would anyone even recognize what he’d become? He once again briefly loses control of himself before giving up and throwing the key to the portal into the trees as hard as he can, before disappearing into the foliage himself.

North burns everything Philip touched, his books, home, everything in her fit of anger over the loss of her palisman and one of her best friends (or maybe something more). She is furious with Brooke for not telling her about him sooner and the two witches engage in an argument. Afterwards, Brooke discovers the journal Philip was going to donate to the market library, the one with all of his recorded notes and diagrams about the fantastical horror of the Demon Realm, and instead of burning it, donates it in their lost friend’s name.

A few centuries go by and Philip Wittebane’s name is practically lost to time, save for the journal that still resides in the almost-constantly growing library in what is now Bonesborough. 

A powerful, controlling figure arises, claiming he alone can communicate with the Titan, and that the wild magic used by witches is wrong. Emperor Belos unites the witches of the Boiling Isles under the Coven system, ascending the throne and becoming the most powerful being (both physically and politically) on the Boiling Isles. 

The rest, as they say, is history.

[infernwetrust]

The Devil In Me [Michael Langdon x Fem Reader] Part 2

PART 1 HERE

MASTER LIST

Plot: What if we took the Antichrist, Michael Langdon and turned him into founder and leader of one of the largest cartel’s in California? And what’s even better, is that you’re by his side through it all.

Summary: You awake to family man, Michael and preparations for a trip to Miami take place. Duncan comes to a rude awakening. 

Warnings: domestic violence, drug use, swearing, threats, fluff, angst, mentions of loss of life, child loss, emotional, this is like kind of dark y’all.

WC: 4.0k

A/N: This was not suppose to take this long to write. It was a little emotionally taxing for me, so I had to space out when I was writing it because I would literally get stuck in a dark place. Thank you for reading! -Juno

The smell of pancakes and warm syrup hit your nose first upon fluttering your eyes open. Usually you were greeted by the warmth of your husband who either lay near by or cuddled you. But it appears that he isn't in bed this morning. He did, however, leave the curtains open just a little bit to let some sunlight in. Just enough for you to be able to see around the room. Grabbing your phone off the side table you checked the time which read, 8:30AM. You groaned, knowing that today was packed to the brim with various activities. Travel being one of them.

When Michael offered to take you and the kids with him, Duncan, and Jim to Miami, how could you say no? It was a business trip, of course, but nonetheless you were still grateful to be going. Duncan had just sealed the deal on a brand new warehouse, perfect for operations and expanding their network. Located in the heat of downtown Miami, they blended in well. And what was their front for it all? A nightclub.

You slowly pulled the covers off of you, yawning as you got up, stretching your arms over your head. You smiled as you stared down at the floor, remembering the events that took place after you and Michael's shower the previous night. It wasn't long before he had you out of your night gown for round 2. You picked it and your pair of panties off the floor, throwing them back on and making your way to the bathroom. Hickeys and bite marks covered your chest as you turned the sink on, splashing water on your face before washing it all together. You quickly brushed over your teeth, knocking your morning breath out. You knew you would return shortly after you ate to brush them again anyways.

Throwing on your favorite pair of house shoes you made your way down the stairs and immediately into the kitchen. The sight in front of you made your heart swell. On the table were 3 plates, stacked with pancakes, bacon, and eggs. In a nearby bowl, fruit. Two glasses, for you and him of course, filled to the brim with orange juice. But that's not what made your heart swell. Michael, for the most part, always waited for you before he started eating.

Michael sat at the dining table, hair messy, shirtless, and in gray sweat pants. Sat up in his lap was Junior, the back of his head firmly planted into Michael's chest. In Junior's hand was a piece of pancake that he simply just shoved into his mouth, his eyes glued to whatever Michael had put on his phone for the boy to watch. With him distracted, Michael had his attention on little Malcolm who sat in his high chair, which he had moved closer to him. You watched as Michael fed him his favorite flavored yogurt to which the boy smiled in returned after his father took the spoon from his mouth.

You cursed yourself for forgetting your phone in the bedroom and you wish you could capture this exact moment forever. But there would always be opportunity for more. Michael is nothing shy of a family man and you know he always enjoys his boys being near by, even on the days where he's just fed up with it all. Feeling a pair of eyes lingering on him, Michael turned his head to look, a smile on his face when he made eye contact with you.

"Hi mama." Malcolm said, also noticing your presence, briefly taking his attention away from Michael's phone to look at you, his face a mess.

"Hi mommy's messy baby." you replied, walking over to give him a kiss on his forehead, followed by 3 quick kisses against Michael's lips. "And hello to you too."

"Why, hello." Michael responded. "So nice of you to join us."

"And miss out on your pancakes? No way, sir."

Michael didn't cook often, but when he did, he made it count. You wondered where he picked up his cooking skill. And then you saw him one day, in the kitchen, following the personal chef around. That day he had even wore his own little apron.

"Hey." Michael said to his personal chef, who stuck by his side since the beginning, Dawn. He stood at the kitchen counter with her, tall and proud. His blonde hair covered by a chef hat.

"Yes, Michael dear." she responded, pausing what she was doing to look at him.

"Don't tell Y/N, okay?" he asked her. "I want it to come as surprise when I do actually cook."

"Of course. I'll even teach you how to make some of her favorites."

He smiled at her again before the two resumed what they doing. You could snap a picture right now, you thought to yourself. How his brothers would LOVE to see Michael's EXTRA soft side, but you stood put, the widest smile and deepest blush on your face as you watched your then, fiancé, learn how to cook for you.

You walked over to Malcolm's high chair, grabbing his also messy face and lightly squeezing his cheeks together before sticking your tongue out at him. He giggled, attempting to wrap his tiny hand around your wrist.

"Don't worry, mommy didn't forget about you." you said. "Finally letting your dad feed you, huh?"

"I know, huh?" Michael huffed out. "No fighting before hand either."

"He's sweet when wants to be." You joined Michael at the table, sliding your hand across his back as you did so.

"Daddy, I'm done." Junior said, looking up at his father.

"That's my boy." Michael praised, kissing the top of his head. Junior almost never finished his food, so when he did, it was worthy of praise. "Go play the living room for a bit,'I'll grab you to come brush your teeth in a minute, okay?"

"Kay." the boy replied as he hopped off Michael's lap and ran into the living room, excited to get his hands on one of his toys.

"No mess either please, baby!" you yelled, hoping he would hear you. Michael smirked because as you said that, the both of you heard the toy box dump out. "Shit..."

"Bold of you to assume that he wasn't going to do that." Michael mocked.

"You hush and tell me what the plans are for today." You earned a small chuckle from him as he laid his hand over your knee, quickly glancing at Malcolm who had now took the matters of eating yogurt into his own hands, literally. All over his hair, face, and hands, yogurt. Michael pouted at the sight even though it was cute.

"Daddy was so hoping that he wouldn't have to give you a bath before we left." Michael sighed. "But silly daddy for looking away for 2 minutes, huh?" Michael reached his hand out to tickle the yogurt covered child.

"You still have so much to learn." you said. "Rule 1. Never take your eyes off the baby in the high chair."

"That is so not rule 1, Y/N."

You and Michael talked for what seemed like hours while the two of you ate breakfast. He started by letting you know why everyone was going to Miami. It was so fascinating to you how he was always so well informed. He told you everything, down to the exact number in income this would generate both from the nightclub sales and the narcotics sale. Jim wanted to set up a marijuana plant down there, but Duncan had convinced him that the best place to grow for right now was right here in California. He even showed you the floor layout of the both the nightclub and the underground warehouse on his phone.

Along the minor details were where everyone was going to be staying, how everyone was going to be transported around Miami, fun things to do when there was free time, and some really popular places to dine.

"Ready to give Malcolm a bath?" Michael questioned as he took the last drink of his orange juice.

"Um." You began. "That was your job."

"Just seeing if you were paying attention." he grinned, getting up to clear the table. You watched as he throughly rinsed the dishes off before putting them in the dishwasher. Most of the time you or one of the housekeepers kept up with the home duties, but Michael knew when he needed to step in and he did, every so often, just like today. Despite his extremely busy schedule, he gave you your break because you always took care of him through and through.

"Thinking about cutting my hair when we get to Miami, yeah?"

"Michael, who do you know in Miami that can cut your hair?"

"I don't know, but Duncan does."

"How short are you thinking about cutting it?"

"Something along the lines of Duncan, but just a little longer."

"Ooo you know that's-,"

"One of your favorites. Yes my love, I do know." He turned around to face you, leaning against the counter, giving you a wink.

"And the blonde just tops it off. God, I love you."

"I love you too." Michael laughed. "Fortunate to be the only blonde out of triplets, huh?"

///

The both of them laid there, her head against his chest, sweat making their bodies glisten as the moon light shined through the window of her bedroom. This isn't the first time Duncan has hooked up with Michael's head bartender, Elizabeth. In fact, it quickly became a regular thing, the two of them finding peace within one another through a common pain. Loss. If he was stupid enough, he would actually think he was falling in love with her. Was he? He knew he really liked her and that he enjoyed her company, whether it be platonic or sexual. But it wasn't love was it? Her fingers ran circles around his chest as it rose and fell gently.

Elizabeth was just a few inches shorter than Duncan, light brown eyes, a smile that could kill, and a body that Duncan absolutely adored. Usually for Duncan, his one night stands, stayed one night stands. But with her it was different. He liked the chase. And when he finally did fuck her, he ruined her. But his trips to the bar when she worked became regular and soon enough they began talking. And of course their relationship remained private.

"I could lay here with you forever." Duncan said, breaking the silence.

"Then why don't you?" she questioned.

"You know why, Liz." Duncan sighed.

"Duncan, anyone with eyes can see how unhappy you are." She lifted up a little bit, propping her head up in her hand before resting her other one back on Duncan's chest. "She's done nothing but drain you."

"I know."

"Then if you know why don't you just leave her?"

"It's not that simple."

Truth is, she reminded him so much of, Thomas, Tommy for short. When Duncan had lost his 3 year old son, Tommy, a year after Michael stumbled across Bryce, his entire world fell apart. She was the only living memorabilia that he had left of his precious Tommy. How could he leave that behind? No matter how toxic she was, he couldn't pull himself away and that was the only reason.

He had long fallen out of love with Tommy's mother way before they lost him. But for his son, he stayed with her and put up with all the shit she put him and their son through. And then all it took was one careless mistake and he was gone. And it's been 3 years. No he's not over it. No he hasn't forgiven her for leaving their son unattended. No he doesn't know how to move on, not yet.

When Duncan stumbled into his luxurious penthouse that he shared with, Samantha, he felt uneasy. He took his shoes off at the door, gently setting them down. He walked, slowly, to the master bedroom where the door was just cracked open slightly. And now he had his reason.

The exact same guy she told him not to worry about, was the exact same guy who laid in his bed, curled up against his, well, could he even say girlfriend? He took a deep breath, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. What could he even say? What could he even do? And then he just snapped. He walked in, grabbing the guy by his throat and taking his pistol out of his waist band, pressing it between his eyes.

"Woah man! What the fuck?!" he yelped, startling Samantha awake.

"You have 10 seconds to get your shit up off this floor and get the fuck out of my house before I blow your brains out." Duncan said through a clenched jaw.

"Duncan wa-," Samantha began to say but he cut her off.

"Shut up, bitch."

The guy wasted no time picking his clothes up off the floor and scurrying out of the room, Duncan pointing his gun at him the entire time. Duncan slammed the bedroom door shut behind him, scratching his head with his gun before throwing his hand back down to his side.

"Please don't kill me." Samantha begged on the brink of tears. Duncan chuckled, walking over to her quickly causing her to scream.

"Shut up." he grabbed her by her throat, slamming her down on the bed.

"Dunc, please... I'm sorry."

"I'm gonna talk now. And you're gonna listen. And when I'm done, you're gonna pack all of your shit and you're gonna leave. And if you don't, I'll kill you."

///

Michael took it upon himself to go get Duncan. He was suppose to come over early to meet with him and Jim to go over some analytics before leaving for Miami in evening, but as Michael continued to talk to Jim and continued looking at the time, Duncan still wasn't here. He had tried calling and texting, but he had no success. He had you and Jim try as well, but no success. He was worried now, so he made the 10 minute drive to his brother's apartment.

It was a mutual agreement to have spare keys for everyone's residency, but only for emergencies. Michael unlocked the door to his brother's place, quickly noticing where he left his shoes. So he was home and that was reassuring, but, Duncan never left his shoes by the door. Michael did the same, however, leaving his shoes by the door so he could tread lightly. He could hear a faint noise coming from Duncan's bedroom that only intensified the closer he got. That faint noise was now replaced clearly by arguing, but it sounded one sided. It was just Duncan that was yelling, but underneath all that yelling he heard a softer voice, crying.

Michael inhaled deeply, gently putting his hand on the doorknob. Every second that he stood there, slowly turning the knob as to not make a single sound, felt like a minute. He pushed the door open as far as he could, but Duncan in his new heightened rage, noticed. Still holding Sam down by her throat, he pointed his gun at the door.

"Woah woah woah." Michael said calmly, putting his hands up for Duncan to see. "It's just me."

"Do we not knock now anymore?" Duncan questioned, his eyes red and stained with tears as he looked his brother in his face.

"You weren't answering any of our phone calls and we got worried. I just came to check on you. Can you stop pointing that thing at me? I'm your brother, man. Just put down all together. I'm sure this is something that can be talked over."

"You first." Duncan replied, squinting his eyes.

"Dunc, you have go to be-,"

"I said you first!"

"Okay. Okay." Michael said, reaching behind him to pull his gun out, which he clearly showed to Duncan, finger off the trigger. He squatted down slowly, putting it on the floor, before kicking it to the side.

"Talked over?" Duncan mocked. "Her being the reason behind Tommy's death is something that can just be talked over?! Me coming home to another man in my bed is something that can just be talked over?!"

Michael knew the history behind Duncan and Samantha. Everyone did and while they tried their hardest to convince him to call it quits, Duncan never listened. He was too afraid to let go. Michael knew one day that his brother would snap underneath all his bottled up stress, but he didn't think it would of been this long and unexpectedly. Today out of all days.

"Okay." Duncan continued, tightening his grip on her neck as she just laid there, speechless, the tears pouring out of her eyes as she held onto to Duncan's arm. "So we talk out and then what? She gets to move on right? And be happy because it doesn't look like any of the shit we've gone through has affected her any. In and out of my life for 7 years, Michael. I'm 28 now."

"D-,"

"In and out of Tommy's life for 3 years he was alive. I basically was a single dad, but I kept letting this bitch come back because I loved her and when has ole Duncan ever loved a woman, huh? I should just kill her." Duncan turned his attention back to her, putting the gun back against her forehead.

"Duncan, I know you're still hurting over Tommy. Fuck, man. We all are, but what is killing her going to fix? It's not going to bring Tommy back. It's not going to take away the pain you're feeling. Duncan, you lost a child."

"It'll be justice for, Tommy."

"How do you know that this is what Tommy wanted? You don't. Listen to me, please."

"She doesn't get to walk away again." He cocked his gun, pressing it to her forehead again. Duncan, caught up in his own rage didn't even realize that Michael had stepped closer to him and he was still coming. "Why do you deserve to live? You took away someone else's life, so it's only fair right?"

"Duncan I didn't mean for Tommy to be killed!" she yelled through her tears.

"Bullshit!" he yelled back, when Michael grabbed him, wrapping his arm around his neck, before roughly pulling him away, causing him to drop the gun, which Michael swiftly kicked towards himself, picking it up and pointing it at Samantha, arm still locked around Duncan.

"You need to leave, now." Michael said, Duncan fighting to get out of his tight hold. "Get your clothes on, take your personals and just, leave. We'll send everything to your brother when we get back from our trip. If you ever show your face near or around Duncan or anyone he's close to again, I'll make sure they can't find your body, deal?" She nodded, quickly trying to get herself together, stumbling around as she tried to catch her breath. Michael waited until she was completely gone before releasing Duncan, who immediately turned around, shoving Michael back.

"Fuck you." he spat through his tears he finally let fully fall. "Why do you always get to save the day, huh?" Duncan shoved Michael again and he kept shoving him. When Michael got tired, he pushed Duncan's hands away, pulling his brother in for a tight hug instead.

"I can't say I fully understand how you're feeling, Dunc. But I can say that I get it." Michael said in the hug. "And I'm here for you. We all are." Duncan softened just a little bit, allowing for him to return the hug to Michael.

"I-," Duncan began to say, but he choked on his own words.

"You don't have to say anything. Just go get cleaned up and ready to go, okay? I'll probably be in your kitchen. Jim says you have really good snacks." Duncan pulled back to look Michael in his eyes again and he couldn't help but chuckle just a little bit.

"Yeah, okay." was all he said as he turned around to walk into his bathroom. Shutting the door behind him, he took one look at himself in the mirror. His face scratched from where Sam had grabbed him when he first choked her. His eyes red stained from his tears. He sighed, opening the medicine cabinet, retrieving a small vial with a white powdery substance in it. He put a some on the back of his hand before snorting it up his nose. He exhaled loudly, letting the tears fall again as he put it back up, coming face to face with himself again.

Great. His nose was bleeding. He quickly unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it onto the floor. He was going to reach for a towel, when he came face to face with the tattoo that took up his entire left side. He paid 4,000 dollars for the whole thing. It was a very detailed sketch of his favorite moment with Tommy. He shocked him every time how realistic it looks, but Jim always hooked his brothers up with the best because he knew they would do the same for him. It's Duncan and Tommy, both squatted down. Duncan has his arms wrapped around the boy as he's holding a model toy fire truck. In the background was a very detailed Christmas tree as it was Tommy's birthday on the 25th of December. In beautiful scripted font below it says:

Thomas 2016-2019

And a little hand print that matches, Tommy's to complete it. He gripped both sides of the sink, staring into his own eyes once again as he cried, but he couldn't help but laugh too because of how stupid he was.

"I'm so sorry, Tommy." he said. "I'm so so so sorry. And I'll keep saying it because I know I will never be sorry enough. I miss you so much."

///

The car ride was silent between Duncan and Michael as they drove back to Michael's home. Michael let him get his usual morning coffee. And when Michael stopped at the store because Jim wanted another pack of cigarettes, he got Duncan his favorite pack too. It was rare that Duncan ever smoked, though, but Michael knew he needed it. He even let him smoke one in the car, sunroof and windows cracked. He didn't even bother to try to hide his dilated pupils from his coke intoxication, the only thing that was keeping him grounded. His head rested against the window and he stared blankly, but his mind was far from blank.

When they got back, Michael helped Duncan move his bags over to the car they would be using to go to the airport. Duncan trailed behind Michael as they walked around to the back, where Jim sat in one of outdoor sofas, typing away on his business computer. All it took was one glance over and Jim could see that Duncan had been crying.

Duncan sat down next to Jim, taking out another cigarette from his box and lighting it. Michael tossed Jim his own box to which Jim smiled and nodded before turning his attention back to his other, clearly distraught, sibling. Jim threw his arm around Duncan's shoulder, pulling him closer to him, resting his temple against Duncan's. He wasn't going to question him. He knew that he would be told when Duncan was ready. But considering Duncan's state at home, he already kind of had an idea.

"We're gonna have a kick ass 3 weeks, okay?" Jim said. "The 3 of us. Like it's always been. Palm trees and beach babes. And I know whatever has got you so upset, sucks, but we're right behind you. I'm sure you know that."

And then Duncan began letting the tears fall once again as Jim tried to console him. He use to be the head strong one of the pack before he let Sam into his life. And now he was stuck and confused, searching for answers and searching for reasons why. He exhaled his cigarette slowly before tossing it into the ashtray.

"Let's just go over these analytics, yeah?" Duncan croaked out. "Business is business boys."

"That's my boy." Jim said, patting and squeezing his shoulder.

Taglist: @jimmason @angelicmichael @whatcodysaid @9layerdevilfoodcake  @xavierplympton @guiltyfiend @theneverendinghunger

[shanastoryteller]

Hi Shana! I'm a big fan of your work, especially your Gods and Monsters series! Speaking of, can you do a bit on Nike please? Only if you want to of course! Keep doing what you're doing and have an awesome day!

Styx knows Ares needs help.

Hades knows this. Charon knows this. Persephone knows this.Icarus knows this. Athena, Hephaestus, Aphrodite, Hera, Artemis and Apollo knowthis. Possibly everyone who’s not Zeus knows this.

But there’s only so much any of them can do.

Hades and the underworld is always a place that he can cometo, a place for him to rest. Ares will go to his brother’s volcanoes and soakhis aching muscles in the magma, Artemis finds him on the battlefield, Apolloplays him to sleep, Hera turns the tide of wars by whispering in the ears ofmothers and wives, but it’s not enough.

There’s so much war in the lives of mortal men, and Aresstruggles to shoulder it all, to endure it all.

Athena had helped the most. Having another war god to sharethe load helped, and it’s not like Athena is displeased with her increase infollowers. But the wars didn’t stop, or even end more quickly, and if theyweren’t all praying to Ares they were still praying for aid in war.

Styx wants to do something to help. But she’s tied to thisriver, to this place, and she doesn’t mind, exactly, except of course for whenshe does.

That’s okay. The underworld is where everyone ends up oneday, and there’s someone right here who can help her.

She’s not afraid to go into Tartarus. Her river flows even there,and unlike those who are imprisoned there, she can leave whenever she likes.But just because she’s not afraid doesn’t mean she likes it, doesn’t mean it’sa place she goes often.

The edges are lined with active volcanoes, and the light oftheir magma is all there is to see by.

Those titans who retain their sanity, their personhood, arein the center of Tartarus. Those on the edge are more monster than god. Theytend to eat every soul that they find that’s less powerful than they are, andStyx wouldn’t say she’s less powerful, but she is differently powerful, and shedoesn’t want to have to call out for Hades to save her.

She can’t die. She is the space between life and death, but beingconsumed by a titan isn’t something she wants to experience regardless.

Unfortunately for her, the titan she needs isn’t the type tohang around the center of Tartarus, not causing trouble. He’s right on theedge. He’s always looking to cause trouble.

Pallas is large even for a titan, standing at the sameheight as a giant, so big that Styx could stand in the palm of his hand. Hisskin is mostly intact, but it’s stretched taught over his bones, and his mouthlooks like it’s filled with jagged glass rather than teeth. “What does thegoddess of the river of the dead want with me?”

His breath comes out putrid and rotten, like something diedin it. Probably several somethings did. She wrinkles her nose. “I need tocreate a person, and I want your help to do it.”

She’s a child goddess, and she can’t bring about a child likeother goddesses can. She may be one of the oldest being of the universe, but itdoesn’t change her body, or her mind, doesn’t change the fact that in many waysshe’s just the age she appears.

Besides, even if she was old enough to conceive a child, Pallaswouldn’t exactly be her first choice.

Pallas laughs, sending more of his rotten breath into herface. “Why should I? Why me? You’re powerful enough to make a person all onyour own.”

“Any being I make on my own will be of me, will be a pieceof what I am, and that’s not what I need,” she tells him. “You are the titan godof warcraft, of battle campaigns. I want your power, and I want your domain.”

He leans over, his eyes as large as a wagon wheel and soonall that she can see. “Direct little thing, aren’t you? You still haven’t toldme why I should help.”

“Why not?” she counters. “A piece of you will be walking theearth once more, a reminder of you to fly in the face of all the gods who stolewhat you had. Why wouldn’t you want that?”

He makes a motion with his face that Styx thinks is supposedto be a smile. “And if I refuse, you’ll take it by force, is that right? Youcould take me on your own, and even if you couldn’t, Persephone could.”

It’s true. She wants to do this on her own, as much as shecan, because she doesn’t want anyone to try and stop her. But if she asked Persephoneor Hecate or Hades, or anyone else in the underworld, for help, then she’d getit. “It’ll work better if you give it willingly.”

Pallas laughs. “Very well, little girl. But remember this. Youasked me for something, and I gave it.”

He raises his hand to his mouth, bites his thumb, and holdsout his hand. Styx realizes what he’s doing just in time to summon a basin underneathit, to catch the couple drops of blood that falls from his thumb.

He’s so large that it’s enough to fill it, enough to fill abath with, even if just the idea of it makes her stomach roll.

Pallas has already turned away from her, lumbering in theopposite direction, and Styx peers down at the titan’s blood. It’s not red, butblack, the same consistency as oil. It’ll do.

She drags the basin to the edge of her river, not willing torisk any of her magic altering it by transporting it alongside her. She hasn’tdone this before, hasn’t done anything like this before, and she’s only goingto get one shot at this. Possibly two, if she makes a small person.

Now she’s grateful that Pallas lurks on the edges ofTartarus rather than the center. It makes hauling the basin to her river a muchshorter process. She can see other titans in the distance, nothing more thanhulking, dripping figures, but they don’t come too close. She wonders if it’sanother favor of Pallas’s, or if it’s just because they know that messing withher means messing with Hades, and their bloodlust isn’t quite that self destructive.

Once she makes it to her river, it’s easy enough to guidethe basin upstream, until she’s out of Tartarus but not quite back to the innermostcircle of the underworld where the palace it. It’s in one of the many in-betweenspaces that Hades and Hecate have made, because she wants to be someplace wheresomeone won’t accidentally stumble across her.

With a tug of her hands, the basin widens, doubling in size,and she uses her river to settle it on the bank of her river, make sure she’son the side of the mortal world. She buries her hand into the earth of hershoreline, the soil damp and dark, and drops it into the basin.

The blood bubbles and steams as the soil hits it, and itsmells just as bad as Pallas’s breath had. That almost makes her pause andreconsider what she’s doing, but instead she bends over to scoop up more soilin her hands to add to the basin. What’s she’s trying to make won’t comeeasily, after all, so there’s no reason to think that it’s gone wrong.

She keeps adding soil, and the smell gets worse, like sulpher,but she ignores it. She has to mix it together evenly, but she tries using astick and it just evaporated as soon as it touches the bubbling mixture.

Fine, then.

Styx plunges her hands in the mixture, ignoring the tinglingon her skin. Her waters are more corrosive then a titan’s blood, but not by much.She beats the mixture until it’s the right consistency, moldable but stillkeeping its shape, until it’s more clay than anything else, and when she pulls herarms out they’re irritated and tinged purple, but her skin is still intact.

Now for the hard part.

She’s no artist, she’s not Athena or Hephaestus, she doesn’thave an eye for beauty like Aphrodite.

“Helen,” she says, and she doesn’t use her powers often, butshe’s of this place more than anyone. She can command the dead just as well asCharon or Icarus.

There’s a ripple, and then Helen of Troy is standing infront of her, head tilted to the side. “Yes, my lady goddess?”

“Can you just,” she bites her lips, looks down at her hands,then says, “Can you just stand there?”

Helen raises an eyebrow, but says, “Yes, my lady goddess.”

Styx forms the clay into roughly the shape of a person, eyesflickering between her creation and Helen. She’s not talented, so she can’t usetalent to make this. Instead she pushes her will into the clay to make it intothe right shape, until she’s got a copy of Helen standing in front of her. It’snot exact, her mouth too wide and her nose too broad, her hips slimmer and legslonger, but it’s clearly a person, clearly a woman, and it will have to do.

“Thank you,” she says, and then dismisses Helen back to her homein the underworld.

There’s one more step to this, but she doesn’t look justright, there’s something missing.

“Icarus,” she sighs, because she’s exhausted and sore andwants to be done with this now, the whole idea had seemed much simpler in herhead.

She’s not summoning him, just calling out for him, but there’sno hesitation before he’s beside her, ink smudges on his hands and his hairaskew like he was running his hands through it. “I’m in the middle of,” he cutshimself off, and his eyes go wide. “Styx. What are you doing?”

She tells him, and he shifts his weight from side to side,nervous, but he doesn’t tell her that it’s a bad idea, doesn’t kick hercreation into her river. “She’s missing something,” Styx says.

Icarus rubs his arms, but looks into the basin, then says, “Ihave an idea.”

He’s not as resistant the effects of titan blood as she is,and he winces and curses as he works, and several times he has to take a breakto wait for the skin on his hands to grow back before he can continue. But hedoes continue, and even though it’s been so long since he’s done this, since hewas trapped in the labyrinth, his movements are easy and confident.

There’s no more clay left in the basin, and on her back aretwo large wings, just like the kind Icarus was wearing when he plunged into thesea.

It’s perfect.

“Now what?” he asks, and she stands in front of hercreation. This isn’t easy for her, to breathe life into something when death isall she knows, but she’s not just death. She’s the River Styx, the barrierbetween the living and the dead, and so she is both living and dying andneither. She breathes in, goes on her tiptoes, and then breathes out. The aircoming form her lungs is golden and sparking, and when it touches the figure’sface it spreads, until she’s a figure covered in liquid gold.

Then it all sinks in at once, the glow that’d been surroundingher gone, but she’s not clay anymore.

Her skin is dark and her hair is the same shade, curled andfalling to just below her chin. The lightest thing about her is her eyes, a softbrown.

Well, except her wings, of course.

They’re golden, unfurling from her back and spreading wide,and those soft eyes focus on her, and she says, “Hello, Mother.”

Icarus shifts on his feet, and it must be as strange for himto hear this as it is for her. “You know what I made you for?”

“Yes,” she says, because how can she not, when Styx pressedher intent into every inch of her.

“Go to Hera,” she says, “tell her. She’ll help you.”

Her creation nods, but Icarus coughs, and then in his handsis a short white chiton and a pair of sandals. “She may be more amendable ifyou don’t show up at her door naked, my lady.”

A smile curves around her lips and she takes the clothes fromIcarus’s hands. Styx is running her eyes over her, looking for any mistake, anysign that she was once soil and blood and not a goddess, but there’s nothing.

For her first time making a person, Styx thinks she’s done arather good job of it.

Her creation takes several steps back, snaps open her wings,and then is soaring into the air, flying away from them and towards Olympus.

Icarus is silent until she disappears from sight, then asks,“Are you going to tell Hades, or shall I?”

Styx gives him a reproachful look. “I really don’t think that’snecessary.

“I suppose,” he says, and Styx is relieved until he follows itup with, “It’s not like he won’t find out all on his own soon enough.”

She scowls and jumps in her river, where Icarus can’t followher and tell her true things she doesn’t want to hear.

~

Hera feels the moment someone dares touch her throne, andshe’s there the next moment, fury in her veins and power gathering in herhands, because whoever dares be so disrespectful of their queen is soon goingto find themselves nothing more than a pile of ash.

It’s a woman, pretty but mostly unremarkable.

Except for the huge golden wingsattached to her back.

Hera pauses, mouth open, thrown enough off kilter that thewoman has time to say, “I apologize, Queen Hera. I needed your attention.”

“You have it,” she says, and there’s power in this woman, enoughof it that if she’s here to steal herself a seat on the pantheon she just mightmanage it. How could Hera have missed this?

She steps forward, and Hera’s prepared for a threat, but shedoesn’t offer one. Instead the woman whispers in her ear, “I was created tohelp your son, my queen. But first I need you to help me.”

A goddess cannot be truly formidable, cannot consider herselfa true deity, if she doesn’t have a domain.

And she was created to have one very specific domain.

She doesn’t have the time to build it naturally, but withHera she won’t have to.

Hera will speak her name and her dominion into existence,and it shall be hers.

When she hears the details, Hera throws her head back andlaughs. There’s a grin curling her lips as Hera opens her mouth to announce herto the world.

~

Ares is exhausted. That’s not new, or unusual, but his limbsfeel heavy and his movements sluggish. A sword gets past his defenses and splitsopen his shoulder, and he doesn’t even have the energy to wince. This battlehas been raging for weeks, and he’s been fighting for all of it. It feels likeit’ll never end, and he can’t even slip away. The solders believe in him sodeeply, they call out his name in their sleep and give him offerings every hourof the day. No matter how badly he wants to rest, if only for a couple hours,he can’t, not when their belief pins him in place.

Then the battle begins to shift.

They’ve been struggling to hold this ground the whole time,but now they’re gaining it, pushing their opponents back, and Ares lifts hissword with renewed vigor. They’re winning. If they win, then maybe he canfinally rest.

“You’re welcome,” a voice whispers in his ear, but when he swingsaround, sword outstretched, there’s no one there. For some reason, his eyes aredrawn up to the nearest tall hill, and someone is standing there, glinting goldin the rising sun. He thinks it’s Apollo at first, but the silhouette is allwrong.

He’s beside her in the next moment, this goddess with darkskin and golden wings and an eager, greedy mouth. “Who are you?”

“I am who will soon replace you in the hearts of men,” shesays. “Not all of them, perhaps not even most of them, but many. Their beliefwill make me stronger, and I will answer more of their calls, and even more ofthem will flock to me, until I’m as powerful as you or Athena. They pray to you,but what they really want is me.”

“Who are you?” he repeats, and there’s something familiarabout her, something he can’t quite place but that puts him at east in spite ofwhat she’s saying.

She smiles, tilting her head up towards the sun. “I am Nike,the goddess of victory.”

Victory.

Victory is how wars end. Victory is how he gets a chance tocatch his breath.

All his exhaustion is gone, replaced by joy, and he liftsNike up by her hips, spinning as he holds her up in the air, her golden wingsgiving off a kaleidoscope of light all around them.

As soon as he touches her, he knows why she feels sofamiliar.

It seems he owes Styx a thank you. He wonders if she’ll takehim distracting Hades from whatever lecture he’s intent on giving her asgratitude enough.

Now that he’ll have the time to do it, after all.

gods and monsters series, part xxxi

read more of the gods and monsters series here

[trekkie-in-space]

KakagaiWeek2020 - Day 5 - Mirror

Author : JackB

Rating : General Audience

Words : 2436

Resume :  Kakashi come back from a mission exhausted, Gai come to pay him a visit and end up caring for him.

Tag :  exhaustion, fluff, trans kakashi, gender dysphoria, caring, body nudity, non-sexualized nudity, baths, haircut …, prosopagnosia, confusion, not established relationship but damn close, domestic, touch starved kakashi

___

There is always a moment after a long mission, when you finally step inside your home knowing you’re free of duty for the next hours or day, where the exhaustion accumulated just come crashing all at once. For Kakashi this time it’s right when he locks his door behind him. He wants to let himself fall on the floor but then he knows he won’t have the strength to get up. Or, at least, it would take too much effort to.

Instead we walk slowly through his modest flat and strip down from his uniform, placing all his weapons and gear exactly where they should be, cleaning is for tomorrow but it doesn’t mean his flat has to be a mess. As he unfolds his hitai-ate he can feel his hair fall on his face. They were already long when he left, almost time for him to cut them but the mission had started earlier and during the six weeks he spends on it he didn’t quite find the time to cut them during the mission. They are always required to leave as little trail as possible, leaving strand of hair somewhere doesn’t quite fit with that.

His hair annoys him. They are not that long but long enough to cause him problem.

He walks to his bathroom and the picture the mirror send him of himself is not one he likes. He pushes his mask down and rub some water on his face. His fingers pass on his week-old beard and he hates it too. Cleaning can really be impossible during missions, he feels filthy. And to be fair, he is.

He pushes his hair back and can make a pathetic excuse of a pony tail with his hand. Like that he looks like his father. He releases his hair and now he looks like a girl. The exact two things he doesn’t want to look like.

Normally he would take scissors and start cutting but he is too tired to even organize the step in his head to do that. He knows he needs a haircut, but to do it now feels impossibly exhausting. But it’s not like he’s going to go to bed without one. So he stays, staring at his reflection, as anger and disgust birth in his chest the more he looks at himself. He hates it, he hates what he sees. But all he can do is await for his own will to do what he needs to do. To erase the person he has in front of him and find himself again.

He looks at the bathtub.

Why does everything has to be exhausting ?

He hears his window being open but doesn’t have time to wonder who is intruding before he hears the joyful voice of Gai calling for him. “Kakashi ! You’re back !”

Gai, of course.

It’s been nearly two months since they last saw each other, of course, Gai would come at the instant the word of Kakashi return from his mission passed on to him.

“Where are you ?” He says as he close distance with the bathroom. Kakashi doesn’t bother informing Gai where he is, his flat isn’t big enough for one to get lost in it. As he see the door of the bathroom open, he doesn’t bother putting his mask back up. Gai is the only person he doesn’t mind seeing his face, mostly because Gai can’t remember his face anyway. It’s pretty harmless.

“You’re back.” He says fondly, his smile is wide and it gives Kakashi a certain sense of comfort he is definitely lacking right now.

“Not now Gai. I’m tired.” His tone is pathetically weak.

“Are you crying ?”

“No.” He has to check in the mirror to make sure.

It’s not a lie, he is not crying, he is just on the verge of it. It’s just exhaustion searching any outlet to let go, or maybe the disgust he has to see his own face that way. It doesn’t matter in the end. He is upset and he need to rest.

“What do you want ?”

“Just wanted to see you, I leave early tomorrow.” Kakashi nod. Watching his reflection again, he plays with his hair, up and down, up and down. Gai watch him silently.

“Look.” Kakashi turn to him and hold his hair in a ponytail. “I look like my father.” Then he releases his hair. “And now like a girl. My father.. A girl.” He sighs and mutter a ‘hate it’ under his breath.

Gai walk to him and gently grab his hair to fold them in a ponytail. They are dirty and greasy, full of dirt, sand and dried blood. The warm touch is almost too much for Kakashi, he wants to lean in Gai calloused hands but resist the urge.

“Even like that you don’t look like your father.”

“You don’t even know what my father looked like.”

“Fair, but still, you’re not even close to look like him.” He release Kakashi’s hair and they fall back on his face. “And you don’t look like a girl either.” Kakashi roll his eye. “You look like you.”

“I look like shit.”

“Yeah that too.”

He walks past Kakashi to open the water for the bathtub, the liquid flow abundantly, soon steam will cover the mirror.

“Now let’s get you out of this.. ” He grabs what is left of Kakashi uniform and push it up. Kakashi comply easily. Layers and layers are removed until the only thing left is Kakashi’s binder.

He removes it himself, sighing with ease and immediately stretching. He looks up to Gai, busy searching for his hair scissors and combs. Normally he wouldn’t remove his binder in front of people but Gai already saw him naked on more than one occasion and he is too tired and sore to care. Gai never made him feel like out of place even bare and raw like that. The bath is filling up nicely but not yet enough for him to sink in its warms.

“Sit here.” Gai guide before leaving. He comes back with two wooden boxes and pause as he sees Kakashi strip down from his pants. His eyes dart away more for privacy than anything else, but again, it’s not the first time he’d seen Kakashi naked and the snort he gives him is enough for Gai not to care much more. Even if it’s been some time, they’re pretty unbashul about their own nudity in front of each other. Gai never saw him for less than who he is, regardless of details.

“Brought us food before coming.” He hands his rival one of the boxes.

They start eating, Kakashi with more eagerness than he thought he had. He guesses he just want this out of the way.

Gai stay pretty silent, and Kakashi is grateful, because he doesn’t have much strength to talk nor to listen. The few words they exchange are more practical than friendly. ‘Are you injured ?’ ‘Do you need anything in particular ?’ ‘was the mission successful ?’

His answers are short, and he doesn’t bother to care about anything. Gai will tell him when the bath is ready.

__

Sinking in the water is an absolute pleasure. And when he emerges, head wet, Gai hand are already on him. Gently rubbing the soap in his hair until there are enough matter and foam to work. His hands are gentle yet firm, solid on his scalp and Kakashi swear he could sleep under them as Gai massage his scalp.

“I thought you came to see me, not take care of me ?”

Gai snort. “I came to see you and saw you could use an extra hand with how tired you are.”

“Hm.. ”

Gai thoroughly combs away the dirty and blood from Kakashi’s hair until they are clean. Then grab for the scissors. Kakashi is not too worried, Gai already cut his hair a few times, he knows what he likes. He’s more than ready to get rid of the extra hair, as Gai comb his hair straight he feels how long they are and he hates it.

“So, we go for a bowl cut then.. ”

“No !” Kakashi roar with a quick move back. A move of his hand and he splatter Gai with water. The latter explode in a big laugh.

“I’m kidding.”

“Don’t you dare touch my hair.”

“Don’t worry, your hair are too much of a mess. You could never rock a bowl cut as great as mine.” He says while moving his head a bit, letting his hair flow easily with the movement. Soft and supple as always. Gai is proud of himself and manage to drag a small laugh from Kakashi. He reaches for his hair and Gai let him. They’re like silk to the touch, not rough like his tend to be.

“What do you do to get them like that ?”

“It’s the power of youth !” He says brightly.

“And concretely ?”

“Youth and passion Kakashi you don’t need much more.”

“Then my hair is telling me I’m an old man.”

“Also your soap doesn’t fit for your hair.”

“Soap is soap.” Gai shake his head. “Soap is soap !”

“I will buy you soap and you will see.” Kakashi roll his eye. “Do you think your hair will get whiter when you grow old ?”

“If I grow old. And they are silver, not white. I already have a few white one though, it’s weird.” Gai chuckle and make a move of the hand for Kakashi to come closer. “No bowl cut !”

“No bowl cut.” Gai agree.

“Make it messy.”

“I know.”

Gai start cutting, careful to make it messy in a fitting kind of way. He slaps Kakashi’s hand away.

“Stop touching your hair when I’m cutting I need a global view.” Kakashi pout and barely stop, Gai finish on one side and he is already checking the length.

“Make it shorter.”

“Did I say I was finished ? I will come back to this side.”

“Waste of time.”

“Haircut need precision.”

“Yours do.”

“Turn around I will do the back.”

A few hair falls in the bath but mostly Gai pile them on the side. It’s getting messier and messier but it’s always like that with haircut and wet hair.

When both Gai and Kakashi seem satisfied Kakashi ask for a mirror, instead Gai bring back a razor and cream.

“I can do it myself.”

“You will cut yourself, you’re too tired.” He says while handling Kakashi’s face in his hand to cover his beard with cream. “Plus the mirror is covered with steam.”

He’s firm yet gentle and with an assured move start shaving his face. Careful around Kakashi’s mole, he makes quick work of it. Which is a shame because his calloused hands on his freshly shaved skin feel good. Kakashi touch his face and smile, it’s smooth just how he likes it. Gai is rubbing the mist out of the mirror and hand it to him.

“You like it ?”

“It’s good.” He yawn. “It’s better.”

Next, Gai grabs the soap and rub it against a washcloth. Dirt and blood come easily out of Kakashi after he’s been bathing in the hot water, both are washing out the filth, Kakashi mostly focused on the part he doesn’t want to be touched by someone else, like his chest. While Gai focus more on his back and arms and Kakashi can’t help but relax to his touch. During the mission being touched is dangerous, in the safety of the village and his home, it’s a rare delight.

He is not used to being touched, but sometime, like right now, he wishes he could have more of it.

Gai is about to leave Kakashi the washcloth so he can continue down but Kakashi grab his hand and plunge it in the bath, guiding it to his legs. Gai follow the movement easily and stop when he sense where it’s going. Feeling his restrain Kakashi whispers.

“What about this extra hand ? To help me.”

“It’s just that generally you prefers do it yourself.”

“Hm, just help me finish this quickly. I need to sleep.”

Gai comply, he is careful in his touch but Kakashi doesn’t seem to care regardless, helping a bit but mostly letting Gai do the job. It lead to much proximity between the two. And Kakashi realise how natural it feels. He lean closer watching Gai’s face with attention taken by the moment, he grabs Gai by the collar and press his lips against his. Gai turn his head away.

“I thought you liked me.” He is confused and bitter.

“I do more than just like you.” Gai emphasize the word ‘like’ with disdain and nearly disgust, as if just liking Kakashi is an insult.

“Then why ?”

“Because you’re exhausted, you don’t have a clear mind. It’s not the right time.”

“What if it’s the only time ?”

“What if it’s just now ? Your only chance. You will pass it ?” Gai doesn’t need long to think.

“Yes.”

“Well, I don’t know what else I expected.” Gai chuckle. “Still it’s not f..” Kakashi give a long yawn that leave him even more shut down than before. “Fun.” Gai passe his hand in his hair and he close his eye to the touch.

The rejection isn’t too bitter, because he already forgetting the moment and also because Gai never stop being loving toward him. He feels himself falling asleep and rest his head against his rival’s shoulder, helping a bit with the washing because the faster they finish the faster he can go to sleep.

He barely registers when he is pulled out of the water, he awakes an instant drying himself quickly as Gai gently dry his hair. A loose shirt and clean underwear later, he clung on Gai, pleading for his bed.

Gai guide him, resisting the need to lift him to be quicker. When he lay in him bed Kakashi doesn’t want to let go.

“Sleep with me.”

“You’re sure ?”

“Hm yes.”

“Alright, let go.”

“No sleep with me.”

“Give me a sec, I will join you.”

Gai strip down from his own uniform and borrow one of Kakashi loose shirt before joining him in bed. Kakashi, who refused to sleep until Gai joined him, promptly fall asleep against him.

When he awake the next day, Gai is already gone. How long will it be until they see each other again is pretty uncertain. But he looks forward to it.

End.

[raendown]

Pairing: KakashiSakuraGenma Word count: 3156 Soulmate au: The one where the first time your soulmate touches your skin it leaves a permanent mark

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header! 

Chapter 222

He met Kakashi first. Well, that was kind of obvious. Genma met the last of the once proud Hatake line when they were both in the academy, not technically age mates although they attended all of the same classes. Back then Kakashi hadn’t covered so much of his body at all times but he’d still carried with him the sort of air that made others stay away, the air of one who stood above the rest even if he was good enough not to rub that in any of their faces. Genma watched Kakashi from afar because he was talented and interesting but never made much of an effort to actually get to know him. They ran in different groups of friends and there only ever seemed to be two or three people Kakashi deigned to give his attention to. No point in trying to make friends with someone who didn’t want any. 

It wasn’t until they were both nearing the end of their teenage years and Kakashi had been broken in so many ways it hurt just to look at him that Genma realized they had never touched before. He realized only because, well, because they touched. For the very first time. And when he pulled his hand away from where he’d clapped it down on to Kakashi’s shoulder with a great deal of frustrated exasperation the imprint of his hand stayed behind. Some of it, at least.

“Just leave it be, Genma,” Kakashi was saying. “I’m paying my respects. The dead don’t care about rain so I don’t see why I should. Look, if you’re worried about me being late for the mission I’ll catch up, okay?”

“Kakashi…”

“Go on ahead without me.”

“No, shut up for a damn second!” Blinking several times in rapid succession did nothing to clear the mark from his view. Half a handprint. He’d never studied his own fingerprints very closely but he knew that mark hadn’t been there a second ago so it couldn’t really be anyone else’s. What he did know for sure was that he definitely had a whole hand on that arm the last time he’d checked. 

Kakashi only had one eyebrow visible at the best of times and when he turned away from the monument it was lifted in question, his uncovered eye dark with the shadows he’d been carrying with him since Obito’s death. 

“Alright, I’ll shut up then,” he said. Amazingly his words came out with just the slightest undertone of humor rather than insult. If Genma’s brain weren’t currently exploding he might have appreciated that a bit more. 

“Look at your shoulder. And don’t you dare try to run!”

So Kakashi looked. By some miracle he didn’t even try to flee, although that might have had something to do with the way his knees wavered and folded underneath him. When he lifted a hand to trace the shape of one on his shoulder his cheeks danced through several different colors that Genma wished he knew how to properly interpret. Trying to figure out what was going on in this guy’s brain had always been more guessing game than exact science. 

“Half?” Kakashi whispered eventually. “What...does that mean?” 

“Oh no you don’t, I know exactly where your head is going, don’t even try to say you must be broken or unwanted or any of that! We’re just...probably waiting on another, you know?” Genma licked his lips nervously, passing the senbon in his mouth from side to side. 

“Another!?” 

“Well yeah. You know, like how Raidou’s got two mums and a dad? Or how Shizune’s got two mums and two dads? We just got to find our other one probably.” 

Kakashi chewed that over for several minutes. While he thought Genma did his best to be subtle about inching closer. He’d been excited about finding his soulmate since he was old enough to know what they were but he knew there were less and less people like him every generation, shinobi more and more frequently taught from a young age not to look forward to something that could end up being used against them. Some people even hoped they never found their match to avoid the chance of testing their own loyalties. Privately Genma had always questioned any loyalty that didn’t leave room for questions. 

Slowly the minutes passed as his shuffling took him closer and closer. They really were supposed to be leaving on a mission, were supposed to have left almost a half hour ago, but it wasn’t like the man they were being sent after would die any different if they arrived at night rather than midafternoon. Well, their pay might be cut some if they didn’t make it look quite like the accident they were contracted for but that wasn’t the end of the world. This was more important. If he used his best puppy eyes the Sandaime might not even punish them. 

Eventually Kakashi lifted his head and took a deep breath, startling to see that Genma was so much closer but very tellingly not protesting. When he spoke every word carried the faintest tremble. 

“I get...two?” he murmured. “Two people who want me?”

“Oh is that- that’s what you were thinking about? God damn it, Hatake!” With a roll of his eyes Genma flopped down on to the ground and threw both arms around Kakashi’s shoulders, more than aware that he was risking a knife between the ribs but also more than willing to take that chance. “We’re your soulmates. We wouldn’t be matched if we weren’t what you needed, you know? I want you, let's be clear on that, and I’m sure they’ll want you too.” 

“Not dumb. I’m a genius.” 

When their eyes met Genma was cheered to see that spark of humor had returned. His first soulmate had a lot of issues but that was fine, they could work on those together. They’d be fine until the day they could finally be whole. 

It took a while. Quite a few years. More than a decade, actually, but Genma would be happy to tell anyone that neither of them had really minded the wait all that much. They had each other through it all and despite the idiot’s protests they spent most of them working Kakashi through the worst of his abandonment issues until he could be called something at least adjacent to mentally stable. In that time they both did their rounds in ANBU and left the organization to seek healthier ways to serve their village. Where Genma chose to fall back in to the regular mission roster Kakashi found himself roped in to taking on a team of genin, something neither of them thought was a really good idea but neither could see a way to get around. 

The kids were, collectively, almost as messed up as their sensei had been. Out of the three the most normal was a little pink bubblegum girl named Sakura who spent most of her time swooning over the last of the Uchiha line. Kakashi did what he could to avoid contact with them just as he did for most people, a habit that Genma found entirely exasperating. 

“How are we meant to fill out the rest of our marks if you won’t touch people?” he’d asked once. 

“Maa,” Kakashi had waved him off. “They can touch you.” 

Genma had rolled his eyes and very carefully not traced the colors filling half of his right palm. 

Leaving the village periodically had been a part of life since he first graduated the academy but knowing that he was leaving Kakashi behind, trapped inside those massive walls until he felt that his new team might be able to survive the world beyond them, that was new. Mostly it was a new amusement. Genma made sure to bring home as many tales of the outside world as he could, playing them up for all the amusement he could squeeze out of watching Kakashi rock between wistful and jealous. Neither of them had ever really known what to do with kids until three of them were unceremoniously dumped in Kakashi’s lap so Genma didn’t feel much guilt over not coming to see the little rugrats. He knew all he needed to know about them from the horror stories his partner told him. 

Or at least he thought he did until the years began to turn and slowly the rest of the village started talking about them. It figured that Kakashi would stumble his way in to accidentally raising some of the most important kids of their generation. If the last of the Uchiha wasn’t notable enough then he had the son of the Yondaime Hokage and if that still wasn’t notable there was always the bubblegum girl who picked herself up off the ground and apprenticed herself to the Godaime, smiling deceptively at anyone who pleased her only to punch straight through the sternum of the ones who didn’t. Genma, when he finally met her face to face, decided that they could definitely be friends after she gained a few more years. 

He didn’t realize exactly what such an errant and mindless thought would become. 

Keeping his distance from Kakashi’s kids became a lot harder once they stopped actually being kids, growing steadily in to adulthood until one day he met his partner at one of the dingy bars they both shamelessly adored only to find that Kakashi wasn’t alone, slightly harried looking where he sat in the middle of four other bodies all smiling and trading jokes about his new haircut. Genma was already laughing a little to see Naruto poking at the spikes now several inches shorter and neater than they had been earlier in the day. 

“It’s certainly an interesting look, senpai,” Cat was telling him - or Yamato, Genma remembered he was supposed to call him now. 

“Maa, it’s an accidental look,” Kakashi admitted. Genma slid in to the seat next to him with a little wave to everyone else, barely reacting when Kakashi swooned dramatically in to his shoulder. “One of the ninken knocked in to me when I was trimming and I took a massive chunk off the left side. It was either leave it like that or make everything match.”

“Well I think it looks nice,” Sakura offered. Oddly enough she even seemed to mean it. 

Kakashi nodded gratefully in her direction only to wilt when he spotted the notepad that Sai had whipped out, already doodling an outline of the new haircut. Apparently the reminder of his own reflection was not a welcome one. 

“So cruel,” he moaned. “All of my loved ones are so cruel to me!”

“I’m sure we’d all be a lot nicer with more alcohol in us.” Well aware that he wasn’t being at all subtle, Genma could only offer a beaming smile when his partner leaned away to glare at him. 

“Extra cruel.”

“Does that mean you’re not paying for my beer?” 

Kakashi harrumphed his way out of his seat and stomped away towards the bar, gumbling under his breath about joint accounts and shared finances. With most of the table laughing along with him it was only too easy for Genma to ignore Sakura’s narrowed eyes. They’d crossed paths several times during her apprenticeship to Lady Tsunade, a source of much amusement for him whenever he pulled guard duty, but he’d never really had a chance to get to know her more than that so he could probably be forgiven for not knowing what that particular look on her face meant. Or what doom it spelled for those that might ignore it. 

When Sakura got up to walk after her old sensei Genma figured she was only going for another drink. Maybe popping off to the bathroom. He would have thought she was going to powder her nose if he had ever seen her wearing more than mascara but even the village civilians knew that the Yamanaka girl was the one obsessed with painting her face. If he had to guess he’d probably say Sakura’s version of dressing up had a lot to do with picking an outfit that best showed off her admittedly impressive biceps. 

Not, of course, that he was disparaging such choices. He’d always been attracted to competence more so than a painted face. 

It took several minutes for Kakashi and Sakura to make their way back across the bar but when they did they were both wearing faces like they’d seen the meaning of life itself and lived to talk about it. Genma was out of his seat and reaching for Kakashi in an instant, baffled when the man only stood there and blinked at him.

“Genma-san can we talk to you outside?” Sakura asked in a strained voice.

“Sure. Yeah. Did you…break him?”

“I think I might have,” she breathed. Then she turned and walked towards the back entrance with jerky steps. 

Without bothering to answer any of the questions from those left behind Genma took his partner’s hand and dragged them both after the pink hair bobbing away from them. Sakura’s compact little body was built much better than either of theirs for weaving her way through the crowd, enough so that by the time they stumbled out in to the back alley Genma was a little worried she might have had time to disappear on them. Thankfully she hadn’t. He did, however, note that her eyes were just as wide as Kakashi’s and both of them looked rather like they would have loved to flee if only they could figure out which direction to go in. 

“Alright, who’s going to tell me what’s going on?” he said. Kakashi gurgled a little. 

“I, ah, okay so...please don’t be upset.” The leather of Sakura’s gloves creaked in protest as she wrung the poor things between her bare hands with perhaps a little too much violence. 

“No promises. Go on then.”

The look she gave him was utterly devoid of humor but luckily for his bones she chose not to punish him for trying to lighten the mood. After a few more times wringing her gloves she allowed them to drop to the ground, taking one very deep breath before turning both hands to reveal her palms. One of them was half colored in. 

“Look I know he’s your- I know that you two- I didn’t mean to! Genma-san I’ve never seen anything like this! I was just trying to get his attention so I put a hand on his shoulder and I guess I’ve just never touched him skin to skin before and-”

“Woah, calm down, calm down. Don’t start hyperventilating. It’s...you left a...a soulmark?”

All the breath in his lungs whooshed out of him with some indeterminate noise when both Sakura and Kakashi nodded in the affirmative. It felt like suddenly there was no more oxygen left. Distantly Genma could tell that his legs were trembling but he couldn’t be bothered to care about that at the moment, not when everything he’d been waiting so long for was coming true right in front of his eyes. 

He didn’t realize how long he stared for until Sakura cleared her throat and he peeked up to see that she looked even closer to flight. Only then did the rest of her words finally sink in and he understood why she didn’t look happier about such an auspicious discovery. 

“You idiot!” Kakashi flinched when Genma reached over to smack him on the back of the head. “How many years have you known this girl and you never told her we’ve got another soulmate!?” 

“A- a what?” Sakura breathed. 

“We- oh sweet chakra farts just give me your hand, here.”

Impatient to seal them all together, Genma didn’t wait for permission to reach over and clasp Sakura’s hand in the one of his own that looked very much like hers, colored in on one half where he’d first touched Kakashi in the same place she had. All it took was a brief press of skin and then he was pulling away to turn his hand over. They still matched, of course, only now they both sported palms entirely covered with the beautiful mix of colors that made up their soulmarks, each half ever so slightly unique to show that they were both bonded to a third. No doubt Kakashi’s mark looked identical and for the space of a single moment Genma thought to pity his first partner that he didn’t have the same ability to just sit and stare at his own mark. 

The moment passed quickly. Kakashi was a sappy guy under the front he put up for others but he wasn’t quite that sentimental. Which was good. Sometimes Genma needed a little help tossing out his old ripped clothing because those shirts had been with him through so many missions they almost felt like friends. 

“Oh.” The breathy whisper of Sakura’s voice brought him back from whatever tangents his brain had been trying to distract him with. “I...both of you!?” 

“Maa, sorry about that,” Kakashi offered sheepishly. 

“Don’t be- you- and you- and you think I need you to say sorry?” 

“I’ve been chipping away at those self esteem issues for years, trust me. Might be nice to have some help with that.” Genma chuckled to cover his nerves. “Seriously though, you don’t mind do you? We’re both maybe a bit old for you but we’ve been keeping a spot on the couch warm for whenever we found you. If you need some time to think about it that’s okay. Just, ah, just know that, um…”

He was cut off from having to finish that thought by deceptively slim arms throwing themselves around his neck. Genma closed his eyes and reveled in the instant familiarity until Kakashi very shyly pressed himself in from behind and then that was it. They were complete. It would have been impossible to find words to describe the difference but it was there and Genma was just as happy to feel it instead of talking about it. After all this time they had found her, the missing piece in the beautiful puzzle of their bond. 

“Who needs time?” Sakura mumbled against his neck. “I’ve got so much to catch up on.”

“Later,” Kakashi insisted very quietly.

It wasn’t hard to guess his meaning. Genma smiled when he felt one of Sakura’s arms tighten around him even as the other let go to reach for Kakashi, all three woven together exactly as they were always meant to be. This, he decided, was one of the better things the universe had created. He might give fate a hard time for all the shit it had thrown at them over the years but it had always been clear to him that this right here, the three of them together, this would always be worth it. 

[bangtanplus1]

Luna's Hair Through The Eras

No More Dream

Luna’s hair was her natural deep brown colour, she often had it in low pigtails. The other styles she whore were double braids, ponytail, and simply hair down. The stylist didn’t know how to do elaborate styles yet so they stayed simple, since some times she would have to do it herself.

Danger/War of Hormone

Her hair got dyed to a black, and was a little shorter now, about breast length. The styles stayed the same, as she still had to do her hair more than she should have.

I Need U

Her hair was now dyed to a bronze colour, now at the shoulder length. Her stylists started to become better and they now could braid differently and of more styles. Though they still stayed simple for the era.

Dope

Her hair stayed the bronze colour, though now it sported blue highlights on the bottom. The hair styles stayed rather simple for this era as her hair already stood out.

Run

Her hair changed to a worn silver colour. Her length was just past her shoulders and she had bangs. Her hair was often curled or crimped during this era.

Fire/Save me

She went back to her natural deep brown colour for fire. It was now longer, and she had some grown out bangs framing her face. Again her hair was often curled and crimped.

Blood Sweat and Tears

Her hair was now black again, though it was longer, nearly reaching her elbows. Her hair was normally down, or thrown into a half up/down.

Spring day

She went blonde, it wasn’t a very bright blonde, but more of a golden blonde. Her hair was back to breast length. Her hair was fishtailed and in half up/down styles during this era, though staying simple.

Not today

She kept the same colour but changed the style, it was now a bit longer, but she got her bangs again. She had her hair in braids for the majority of the performances and promotions.

DNA

She went back to her natural colour, except she added some lighter highlights. She kept the bangs though some of the side ones grew out and framed her face. She had her hair was never staying in the same style during this era, but the styles became more elaborate with a lot of hairspray being needed.

Go-Go

(Same colour as DNA) Her hair was often found in bubble ponytails, (the ponytails that have elastics going down the hair making it look like bubbles of hair) and curled.

Mic Drop

Black long bob with bangs, it was slightly layered and successfully made her look intimidating. Her hair was always perfectly straight and the bangs stayed in place during the dances.

Fake Love

Sticking to the theme they seemed to have she kept her hair black though it had grown out more, down to her shoulders. Her bangs grown out again.

Idol

Her hair had grown even more, now down past her shoulders. The colour was now a bright blue, almost teal colour.

Boy with Luv

She liked the way the blue looked on her, but she didn’t want it repeat the exact same hair so she decided to get a blue and pink split. This proved to be her favourite colouring job that she’d ever gotten. Her hair was now down to breast length.

ON

She now went for a bleached blonde, though it was only there for the music videos because she didn’t like the look. So by the time their performances started she had dyed it to a deep brown, close to her natural colour so she could grow it out.

Dynamite

After not liking her last hair she decided to tame the colours and just go for a simple light brown, with blonde highlights. Her hair was cut to her breasts again. The styles got more and more elaborate the more the performed the song, she started with her hair down and ended up with a Rey (Star Wars) hairdo by the last performances.

BE

After the boredom of having dark hair growing into her light brown hair she decided to change it up, she hadn’t planned on having it very long due to her making the decision after staying up all night working on a song. She got her hair dyed all white, and since it got to grow out before the album came out she had some brown at her roots which made it look better on her.

Butter

Missing the Boy with luv era, she decided to go back to the colours, but with a twist. She kept the white as the underneath layer, hidden by the mint and baby pink split hair on top. The white was only seen in her double braids, her half up/downs and her space buns. Again she thought this was the best colouring she had ever gotten.

Permission To Dance

She wanted to tame her hair down so she went back to a brown colour, this time the brown was a chestnut colour. For the PTD video she had her front hair non permanently coloured to be blue and pink just to have the same kind of vibe as butter.

[omgjasminesimone]

Juvenile Delinquents Epilogue

Logan x MC

Word Count: ~2400

For MC day of @rodappreciationweek, an MC focused epilogue to my story Juvenile Delinquents, where Logan and Ellie give their daughter up for adoption.

Ellie’s half hearted watching of a documentary is interrupted by her ringing phone. Ellie glances at the phone as it vibrates on her coffee table. She doesn’t recognize the number, but it’s an LA area code.

She hesitantly picks up. “Hello?”

“Ellie Wheeler?” The caller asks.

“...who is this?” Ellie counters. She doesn’t use that name anymore. Not since an ex at Langston who’d she’d confided in hacked her juvenile criminal record and publically released it after their messy break up.

“Oh, right. What did the investigator say... Elle Gordon was it now?” The caller continues.

Ellie frowns, turning off the tv. “Again, who is this?”

“Oh I’m sorry. I’m going about this all wrong. It’s Chet, Chet Johnson?” He says, as if she might have forgotten. As if choosing him and his husband to raise her and Logan’s daughter might have slipped her mind.

Ellie thinks about her daughter every day. Little things will stir up her memories, like seeing a yellow car (she’s pretty sure they conceived their daughter in Logan’s beloved car), or hearing a baby cry. Ellie tries not to dwell in the memories, because it’s just too painful.

“Chet. Wow. It’s been a while.” 5 years, to be exact. Ellie furrows her brow. “Is something wrong?” Maybe her daughter needs a kidney or something? She can’t imagine why else he’d be calling.

“No, no.” Chet is quick to reassure. “Nothing is wrong. It’s something good, actually. At least, I think it’s something good. Dahlia, we explained adoption to her, and she wants to meet her birth parents.”

Tears immediately well in Ellie’s eyes. “Dahlia, that’s pretty.” Ellie says softly. She and Logan never picked out a name, knowing they weren’t going to get to keep their baby.

“She’s amazing. She’s made us so happy. We’re so grateful to you. And to Logan. You gave us such a gift.” Chet gets a little choked up, clearing his throat at the end.

“I’d...I’d love to meet her. If that’s something you and Frank are comfortable with.”

“We’re very comfortable! We weren’t sure what your thoughts on this were going to be, we considered it might be too painful, that maybe you wanted a clean break. That’s why we didn’t reach out after the birth.”

“I think back then, it might have been too much, the loss still too fresh. But now, I think I can handle it. I’d really like to meet her.” Ellie reassures.

“That’s good to hear. Especially after all the effort that went into tracking you down! You and Logan are both difficult people to reach.” Chet replies.

Ellie swallows. “...you talked to Logan?”

“I did. He wants to meet Dahlia too. Frank and I were thinking we could all meet up at the park.”

Ellie doesn’t say anything to that, so Chet continues.

“...that’s not a problem, is it? Did something happen between you two?” He questions.

Ellie hasn’t spoken to Logan in almost 4 years. There was no big dramatic break up, their relationship just seemed to slowly fizzle out with them living on opposite sides of the country. She’d been busy with school, and he’d been busy with work, and they’d slowly run out of things to talk about over the phone. They never talked about their daughter, that topic too painful to broach just to have something meaningful to say to one another.

Ellie shakes herself out of her reverie. “No, that’s absolutely fine. Makes sense to do both the introductions at once.” She assures.

“Great! I’ll text you the details once we have all the logistics worked out.”

...

They schedule their meet up for a month later. Ellie flies home to LA from Dallas, where she’s working in her first post graduation position. The whole flight, she’s too anxious to eat anything. What if Dahlia doesn’t like her? What if they just sit there in awkward silence? Ellie doesn’t have a lot of experience with small children.

Despite her apprehension, Ellie is excited. She’s always wondered what Dahlia would be like, what she looks like now, if she’d be able to spot any of Logan’s mannerisms in their daughter.

If she’s being honest with herself, some of her apprehension might have to do with being reunited with her first love. Things just feel...unfinished between them. She almost wishes they’d had some big fight, just so she had some closure. But he just slowly...stopped calling. And she didn’t call him either. And then she just assumed they were done, and started dating someone else, all without ever speaking to Logan about it.

She doesn’t sleep much the night before the big reunion. Ellie is staying with her dad, who didn’t help her anxiety when he revealed he thought meeting Dahlia might be too much for her, so her stomach is in knots when she arrives at the park 30 minutes before the scheduled meeting time.

Ellie parks her dad’s car and makes her way over to an unoccupied bench. She takes deep breaths to try to calm herself down.

But then, Ellie feels like she stops breathing completely when spots a familiar yellow Devore pulling into the parking lot.

He steps out of the car. He’s just as beautiful as he was 5 years ago when she left him at that train station.

His hair is cut shorter, but it’s still long. He’s wearing the sparkplug necklace, like always. He spots her, freezing for a moment, before offering her a somewhat hesitant smile and making his way over.

She stands up as he approaches. They stand in front of each other awkwardly for a moment, before Ellie reaches out for a hug.

Logan squeezes her tight, resting his head on top of her’s and subtly breathing in her familiar coconut shampoo. “Eleanor Wheeler, it’s been a minute.” He greets.

It’s several long moments before Ellie pulls away, looking up at him. She doesn’t bother to correct him on her name change. “Logan, it’s good to see you.”

The former lovers sit down on the bench, engulfed in an uncomfortable silence reminiscent of their last few phone calls.

But this time, Logan actually broaches that subject he always avoided so as not to upset her. “Are you as nervous as I am about meeting Dahlia?”

Ellie smiles, nodding. “I feel like I have butterflies in my stomach.” She admits.

“Yeah, it’s kind of crazy. I’ve dreamed about this moment for so long, and now it’s actually happening.” Logan continues.

“Do you...think she’ll want to know why we didn’t keep her?” Ellie questions.

Logan leans back, looking thoughtful. “...no. She’s only five. I think by the time she’s old enough to wonder, she’ll already know the reason. We just weren’t in a position to give her what she deserves.”

Ellie nods. “We were too young. We did what was right for her. I know that. And yet, when I was at Langston, I still sometimes wondered if it was worth it.”

Logan furrows his brow. “What do you mean?”

“I wanted what was best for her, but I also wanted what was best for me. I’d put so much work into Langston, I thought it was the end all be all, and I knew I couldn’t do it with a baby. But then, when I got there, college wasn’t really the amazing experience I thought it was going to be. It didn’t seem.....worth not having her.” Ellie admits.

Logan sighs, running a hand through his hair. Ellie can’t help but quirk a small smile that he still has that familiar nervous tell. “Ellie....” he trails off, seemingly not knowing what to say to that.

“Well, how was it for you? Not having your daughter?” Ellie asks.

Logan lets out a humorless laugh, gazing down at the sidewalk. “I...I didn’t deserve to have her. I still don’t Ellie. I never left the gang, I never went back to school, or did any of the things I promised you I would if you let us keep the baby. I’m just a fuck up you were smart to get away from.”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that Logan.” Ellie pleads, wrapping her arms around him in a comforting loose hug. “You can still do all those things.” She assures him. “And I know you would have, if you’d had your daughter to motivate you.”

Logan returns her hug, burying his face into her hair. Ellie feels tears welling in her eyes. She didn’t realize how much she’d missed being in his arms.

She feels Logan expel a little breath, and then he murmurs. “They’re here.”

Ellie pulls herself away from his chest, looking to the parking lot where Chet and Frank are getting Dahlia out of her car seat.

The little girl takes both of her dads’ hands as they make their way over, all smiling merrily.

Ellie and Logan both rush to their feet, meeting the family halfway.

Chet smiles and hugs both of them, Frank following suit. Chet then crouches to Dahlia’s level. “Baby, these are your birth parents, Ellie and Logan.”

Dahlia grins up at them. “I grew in your belly!” She announces giddily to Ellie.

Ellie laughs, dropping to a crouch so they can be at eye level. “You did. You had quite the kick!”

Dahlia’s grin widens, and then she turns her attention to Logan. “I like your hair! It’s the same color as mine!” She compliments.

Logan crouches too, offering Dahlia a shy smile. “I think you got my eyes too, but that’s definitely Ellie’s nose.” He playfully bops their daughter’s nose, and Dahlia giggles.

Ellie sees some of Logan in Dahlia’s facial features, but their little girl definitely resembles Ellie more. It’s like looking in a time warped mirror.

The five of them take a seat at a picnic table and make small talk. Ellie can barely pay attention to anyone besides Dahlia though. Genetics are so crazy. Dahlia wrinkles her nose like Ellie does when she seemingly disagrees with something that was said. And her smile starts in the corner and then grows, just like Logan’s.

Eventually, Dahlia grasps Ellie’s hand and drags her over to the swings. “Will you push me Ellie?” The little girls asks sweetly, and Ellie is quick to do as requested.

“Logan! Logan look!” Dahlia calls as she pumps her little legs. Dahlia has warmed to them so quickly. She’s clearly a very friendly and happy little girl. Ellie feels a little silly for spending so many hours fretting over Dahlia not liking her.

Logan makes his way over, taking over pushing duty.

“Daddies, look! Look!” Dahlia calls out when with Logan’s assistance, she gets higher than ever before.

“Alright Logan, put a little less power behind those pushes please!” Frank calls a little worriedly.

“Oops, my bad!” Logan calls back, gripping the chains to stop Dahlia’s momentum.

Dahlia pouts as she looks up at him. “But I like going high Logan.” She whines.

“No can do kiddo, you heard your dad.” Logan returns, pushing much softer this time.

Ellie smiles as she watches the two of them. It kind of hurts though. It’s so easy to envision a world where they could be mommy and daddy instead of Ellie and Logan.

Hours fly by, and before they know it the sun is setting and the park is getting ready to close.

Ellie and Dahlia walk back to Chet and Frank’s car hand in hand, the men all trailing slightly behind them chatting.

Ellie has to keep all her focus on not crying as she faces saying goodbye to her daughter, again.

“Sweetie, wasn’t there something you wanted to say to Logan and Ellie?” Frank prompts.

Dahlia nods enthusiastically, and motions for them to come close. They both crouch, and Dahlia wraps her arms around both their necks in a warm hug. “Thank you for my daddies!” She chimes sweetly.

“And thank you for Dahlia.” Chet starts choking up again, and Frank wraps an arm around him, placing a kiss to his husband’s cheek. “We really cannot express how grateful we are to the two of you.” Chet elaborates, fighting back tears.

Ellie kisses Dahlia’s chubby cheek before freeing herself from her daughter to wrap both Chet and Frank in a big hug. “Thank you for making her so happy and loving her so much.” She murmurs in their ears.

Logan stands, holding Dahlia with one arm and reaching out his free hand to shake hands with Chet, and then Frank. “You guys are amazing parents. You’ve done such a great job with her.”

Chet laughs, wiping at his eyes. “Well, you guys provided us  with some pretty great source material.”

Dahlia lets out a big yawn, all the hours of playing clearly wore her out. She reaches for Frank, and Logan passes her over to her dad. She rests her head on Frank’s shoulder, eyes blinking sleepily.

“Well, we should let you get out of here.” Ellie forces herself to say.

“Yeah, we need to start getting home. But this was really great. Would you guys be up for doing this again? Maybe on an annual basis?” Chet offers.

Both Ellie and Logan readily agree.

“Bye Ellie! Bye Logan! See you next year!” Dahlia chimes when she’s strapped into her car seat minutes later, waving at them merrily.

They wave back before Chet closes the door. Chet and Frank hug them both again, saying their goodbyes.

Ellie finally lets the tears fall as the car drives off. Instinctively, she looks to Logan for comfort, burying her face into his chest and crying into his shirt.

Logan wraps his arms around her as he lets her cry it out, gently rubbing her back. “We did the right thing Ellie.”

“I know. But it’s still hard.” She returns, but her tears are starting to subside, calmed by Logan’s gentle embrace.

Ellie eventually pulls herself together, hesitantly letting go of Logan. But she can’t bring herself to say goodbye to him just yet, even though her dad is expecting her home soon.

Luckily, it seems like Logan isn’t ready to say goodbye either. He cups her cheeks, wiping away the last few stubborn tears. “God, I missed you troublemaker.” He admits softly.

“I missed you too.” Ellie returns. And then, she gives into the urge she’s been feeling all day. She wraps her arms around his neck, and captures his lips. She can’t help but let out a happy sigh when his hands tangle into her hair as he kisses her back. For the first time since leaving LA 5 years ago, Ellie feels like she’s home.

...

..

taglist:  @choicesarehard​​​ @brightpinkpeppercorn​​​ @regina-and-happiness​​​ @drakexnadira @flyawayboo​​​ @fairydustandsarcasm​​​ @alesana45​​​ @maxwellsquidsuit​​​​ @god-save-the-keen​​​​ @mrsmckenziesworld @paisleylovergirl​​​​ @iplaydrake​​​​ @sinclaire-made-me-sin​​​​ @choicesgremlin​​​​ @lovehugsandcandy​​​​ @desireepow-1986​​​​ @blades-of-light-and-shadow​ @justdani14​​​​ @emceesynonymroll​​ @emichelle​​​​ @badchoicesposts​​​​ @client-327​​​​ @riverrune​​​​ @liamzigmichael4ever​​​​ @princessstellaris​​​​ @mskaneko​​​​ @anxious-arliah @zaffrenotes​​​​ @iam-ankita​​​​ @ohsnapitzlovehacker​​

[lannister-slings-and-arrows]

Hey you! Ok how about Pedro’s characters and the first time they wink at you. ILY and thank you 🙈

Hey babes! I simultaneously love and hate you for this ask because jfc winking irl is so fucking skeezy but, as with a lot of things I previously thought I despised, when Pedro does it I get a little weak in the knees lol. So now I have an excuse to comb through every gif of him winking. You know. For research. For SCIENCE. (Under the cut, cause fucking HELL. This got loooooong.)

(Gif made by @djjarindin )

Whiskey- On your very first day as a Statesman you make the dubious acquaintance of Agent Jack “Whiskey” Daniels. You’re standing at the window of your new office, flipping one of your knives in the air idly, when a handsome man in tight blue jeans and a black Stetson saunters in without so much as a by your leave. His grin is lazy, charming, and you acknowledge, in the deepest recesses of your hind brain, incredibly enticing.

“Well howdy there, darling,” he greets, thumbs hooked in the front of his belt, drawing your gaze to- is that a flask on his belt buckle? His mustache twitches up on one side as he notices that your eyes landed exactly where he had intended.

“Now what’s a pretty little thing like you doing playing with those pig stickers? You could hurt yourself with knives like that.” He steps closer to you, one hand leaving his belt to brace against the window next to your head so he can lean further into your space.

“Probably the same thing you’re doing playing with those pistols you’ve got under your jacket or that lasso at your hip,” you reply coolly, not backing away from his intrusion into your space. His raises his and he huffs a laugh through his nose.

“Well touché, kitten.” He bends a little at his knees to catch your eyes better and suggests softly in a voice that 90% of you demands you to listen to, “How’s about you and I get outta here and I can give you a tour of the place? Maybe, show you the ropes?” And he then winks at you.

That last 10% of your willpower has something to say to his blatant attempt at getting into your pants.

You slap him.

Javier Peña- You had been warned by more than one person that feminism hadn’t really made its way to Columbia yet when you accepted the portion to field agent and transferred down to the DEA office in Bogota. It was 1990 however, and you kind of expected the Americans you worked with to at least be a little more on board with the times.

That was on you, men were men it seemed, American or Columbian.

The tall blond who introduced himself as Murphy seemed nice enough, he was friendly and a little distracted, and he sounded almost apologetic as he led you further into the office to meet the other member of your team.

“Well hello there, sugar,” a man a couple of inches shorter than Steve greeted you from where he had been leaning on a desk by the door. He stood up straight and sauntered- there was really no other word for how pants that tight made a man walk- closer to the two of you, a wide smile stretched his mustache over his handsome face and showed off the dimples in his cheeks.

Oh lord. One of those men.

“Javi this is-“ Murphy started, clearly trying to diffuse a potential situation but the man interrupted him, and his hand reached for yours, holding it a little longer than necessary.

“A girl too pretty for your married ass to be talking to, Steve.” He still had your hand in between his two large warm ones and you filed that information away for use at a later, much more solitary time. He had the audacity to wink at you and you sighed and rolled your eyes. Ah well.

“I’m your new partner.” Guess feminism still has some strides to make no matter what the nationality of idiot male.

Ezra- You had been stuck on this interminably brown moon for a week and you were going stir crazy. You and your still new partner had landed in a manner that was less than gentle or correct on this nameless rock, and not only was your landing gear bent at an angle a university mathematician would have trouble describing, Ezra couldn’t get the damn thing to start again. 

You weren’t any sort of mechanic by nature, that was one of the things he brought to the table, so until Ezra managed to repair whatever was wrong with this hunk of junk the two of you were still paying off, you were stuck sitting on your hands doing nothing. You had no particular desire to go traipsing around this rock by yourself, protection was one of the other things the man added to your partnership, as you had learned early in your mining career that that generally did not end well for people like you.

So there you sat, bored, listening to the click and clank of Ezra’s tools as he did whatever it was that you needed to do to get an impulse engine working enough to take off and dock to an FTL vessel. And listening to Ezra’s constant talking.

He was currently telling you a rather long winded, even for him and that was saying something, story about how an old partner of his woke up every morning and sanitized the floor of their pod with antibac spray before he would let any of the other four men set foot on it.

“The gentleman in question was a rather odd duck, badger,” he called out to you from half way inside the pod. “Why, in all my years and in all my travels in the black, I must avow never having seen someone so resolved on keeping the extremities of his associates so unsullied. I never cognized if his time running the stars had finally fractured his wits and this was the inevitable concomitant of a life lived as we do, or if it was a tic peculiar to him for all of his life. Still and all, one advantage I did discover at the conclusion of that particular venture: the bottoms of my socks never have been cleaner.” 

An unexpectedly loud guffaw punched its way out of your mouth and you dropped the flat rock you had been attempting to balance on a piece of the aforementioned broken landing equipment. Unfortunately, Ezra decided at that exact time to shimmy his way out from under your craft and instead of falling harmlessly back to the ground where you had found it, it bounced off of his rather distracting ass on its way down. 

He stopped moving and you were about to apologize, you really hadn’t meant to basically throw a rock at him, no matter how much he annoyed you at times, when you heard his voice float up to you again, a little amused, and a little something else that you had had occasion to notice a few times before but had never thought to classify.

“Badger, did you just take your hand to my ass?” You felt your face flush and wondered if this planet’s atmosphere wasn’t as hospitable to humans as you had thought. 

“What?!” You squeaked, voice cracking when it hit a pitch normally very much out of your range.”No! I just dropped a rock!” You heard him chuckle from your feet and refused to look at him as he shuffled all the way out from under to pod and stood to his full height in front of you. He chucked you under the chin and finally you looked up into his eyes. 

“Because darling, I strongly advocate any physical contact that you might desire to have with any part of my body you so wish, at any time of your choosing,” he told you with a wink.

Catfish- You had moved to Texas to take up residence on the ranch your grandfather had left you, not out of any real desire to take up the cowboy life. You hated how hot it was, you hated how slowly everyone talked, you hated how big the entire goddamned state was, and if one more goddamned truck managed to take up three goddamned parking spaces at the grocery store one more time you were going to throw a temper tantrum that would make all their southern asses wish they had managed to secede. 

That was how you had met Catfish (”No that isn’t my real name; no one but my mama calls me Francisco”). He had been the next asshole in a truck to take up more than what your space conscious Yankee ass had deemed his due. 

“Listen ma’am-”

“Don’t you “ma’am” me, how old are you implying I look?!”

“Sorry, miss, if you’re gonna holler at me, could we step a little further away from the truck? I just got that baby to sleep, and if she wakes up starts cryin’ again, I think I’m gonna start too.”

After a meet cute like that, it was inevitable that the two of you would hit it off as well as you did, and so a year later saw you still in a state that you were convinced was trying to kill you (hurricanes, tornadoes, floods, Republicans, and rattlesnakes???), stretched out on Catfish’s beat up couch, more than a little drunk, and a lot happier than when you had left New York to come here. 

Catfish set both new bottles of beer down on the coffee table in front of you and smiled down at you with that big grin that summoned both the dimples in his cheeks and made you feel like your heart was growing four sizes larger inside your chest. He took off his ever present beat up baseball cap and tossed it on your lap. His hair was simultaneously flattened and a mess and you were sure he couldn’t look more handsome in this moment if he had an army of Hollywood stylists attack him. 

He reached down to he hem of his grey Henley and started to pull it up. 

“Whoa there cowboy!” You exclaimed with a grin, sitting up and plopping his hat onto your head for safe keeping. “I didn’t realize I was getting a show when I came over here!” He stopped with his shirt half way off his torso and looked down at you with an eyebrow cocked. 

“It’s hot as goddamned balls in here, baby, and I’m wearin’ two of these things. One of ‘em at least is comin’ off.” He pulled it off the rest of the way and straightened his first layer that had attempted to escape with its compatriot before reaching down and grabbing his hat off of your head and flopping onto the couch next to you. 

“Hey Fish, how long do you think we have before the baby wakes up?” He shrugged, his head rolling on the back of the couch o face you. 

“I dunno, darlin’, why do you ask?” You bit your lip and smiled up at him, playing with the fingers of the hand he had settled on your thigh. 

“Oh, well, you know how watching you nearly get stuck in your shirts really does it for me.” He groaned and slapped your leg lightly as you laughed. 

“I think we’ve got time for whatever you want baby. Helicopter pilots can go straight up pretty fast you know.” He told you with a wink that you were sure was supposed to be alluring. 

Oberyn Martell- The first thing you consciously noticed about Dorne was that it was hot. This was a kind of inescapable heat that permeated your entire body and made you feel like you were cooking from the inside out. You had never before given much thought to what it would feel like to be put into an oven and roasted alive, but without a doubt this is was that feeling. When you went back home to White Harbor you weren’t ever going to complain about the cold ever again.

The second thing you noticed when you put into port in Sunspear- a city quite a bit smaller than most of the cities of the upper six kingdoms the Manderlys sent your father to trade with- was that no one seemed to be wearing a lot of clothes. Which you supposed made sense because you were positively dying in yours.

You quickly changed into a pair of your brother’s breeches and a loose shirt before practically running off the ship and into the dusty warrens of the Shadow City below the walls of the Martell’s castle, eager to stretch your legs after weeks at sea and eat something other than hard tac and salted meat and fish. You figured you had at least a few hours before you would be expected to accompany your father to the castle to haggle about prices for wood and iron and silks and citrus.

The air only got hotter the further from the sea breeze you walked, and as you meandered the twisting and winding bazaars all you could smell were foreign spices and perfumes. Your head was on a swivel trying to take in the sights and sounds of a market radically different from any you had seen before when you walked into a silk covered shoulder. The shoulder belonged to a man nearly a foot taller than you and you wouldn’t have stood a chance at remaining on your feet if two strong arms hadn’t shot out and wrapped around your waist, dragging you back from your rather embarrassing descent to the dusty street and into a warm solid chest.

“I normally have to put in at least some effort in order to sweep someone off their feet, it must be my lucky day that you seem to have decided to do all the hard work for me,” an amused, accented voice said from above you. You felt every word from where your ear was plastered to the bare skin of his chest, his yellow and orange robes belted loosely enough to leave most of his golden skin exposed. You felt your face flush as you shuffled your feet, trying to get them back under you in a way that would allow you to stand and not fall on your face. The man set you back from him gently and you finally looked up

Your savior was beautiful. There wasn’t any other word to describe a face with deep set, smiling eyes that were so deep a brown you really had to look to distinguish his pupils. His nose was curved and prominent, his jaw covered with the same black hair that was cropped closer to his head than you were used to seeing in the North. And his lips were too pretty for a man. They spread into a smile as his eyes met yours, dimples appearing in his cheeks and you were smiling back before you realized it.

“Now,” he said, eyes still laughing. “You are either the worst pick pocket I’ve ever encountered or clearly too taken with the sights around you to be trusted to walk unescorted.” You hoped he never stopped speaking. His voice was deep and rich and at the same time soft and musical and no one in the woods and wilds where you had grown up spoke like he did.

“Uh, yes,” you stuttered and felt your ears burn as he smiled wider, eyebrows in danger of disappearing into his hair. “I mean, no, I’m not a pick pocket! I just, sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going, my apologies.” You stuttered stepping further back from him, hoping maybe some more distance would restore your ability to not make an ass out of yourself in front of this handsome stranger. “Thanks for you know,” you featured vaguely at the ground.

“Oh, you’re very welcome for ‘you know’,” the man replied, somehow injecting a completely different meaning to your innocuous words than you had intended. Your face could have been used to light a campfire by now. You needed to get back and get changed before you did something truly stupid.

“Okay, well, um, sorry, again, for walking into you,” you said, backing away. “But uh, I’ve got to, uh, go...” You sort of waved and took off back the way you came, taking care not to run into any more handsome strangers.

You made it back to the ship in time for your father to lecture you about how dangerous it was to just run off in a “city full of wild Dornishmen! Don’t think that because you’re dressed like a man you’d be safe! That ‘sort of thing’ is common here, daughter!” while you dressed in clothes more suitable to both your station and a meeting with the ruling house of the kingdom.

It was somehow cooler within the sandstone walls of the castle, and you amused yourself on the walk up to the raised dais by listening to the different sounds your company’s boots made on the marble floor.

There was a woman sitting on a carved wooden seat and a tall dark haired man standing behind her, leaning indolently against her chair at the top of the steps you and your father stopped at. You listened to your father make the appropriate greetings, hoping that they could come to favorable terms of trade for items and goods they all wanted. And you felt someone staring at you. You looked up at the young woman in the chair as your father introduced you and you smiled and curtsied less gracefully than your mother would have liked. Your father turned his face to the man behind the chair and began to repeat the introduction when a familiar laughing voice interurrupted,

“Oh, I believe we’ve met already, haven’t we, little pick pocket?” Your eyes snapped up from the marble floor to lock onto those dancing brown eyes from earlier this morning. You felt your jaw drop and your face turn what you were sure was a very unattractive shade of crimson as Oberyn Martell, Prince of Dorne grinned and winked at you.

Din- You had been flying with the Mandalorian and his tiny green baby for about a month when you decided that hyperspace was boring and if you wanted any amusement you would have to take a page out of the little man’s book and make your own fun. You knew that stealing pieces of the ship and hiding them would not be as cute as when the baby did it, so that was out. You weren’t a tall person, but you were still bigger than the green terror so playing hide and seek was pretty close to useless. You were grasping at straws until suddenly it hit you like one of the utensils that the tiny monster liked to levitate around the cabin.

You were going to get Mando to laugh.

You had absolutely no idea how you were going to accomplish this, or even any idea at all what a near silent warrior monk that you were still not a hundred percent convinced wasn’t a droid would find funny, so you decided to just do what you did best; you opened your mouth and let the word vomit out. 

You didn’t shut up. If you were awake and not actively hunting someone, you were talking. The baby seemed to enjoy the new amount of noise and animation, but thus far you had only gotten a few sighs and what you thought were exasperated glares from your adult companion. At least, you figured they were glares. His helmet turned to face you and frankly, you were beginning to even get on your own nerves, so he was almost definitely glaring at you under that beskar. 

This went on for four days straight until one day the three of you were sitting in the cockpit, watching the stars zip by, and you decided to narrate yourself drinking a glass of water. You had just gotten to the swallowing part and were attempting to put into words what that felt like when he turned around to face you. 

“If one more word comes out of your mouth I will cut into into small enough pieces that the baby won’t notice it’s a human that he is eating for dinner tonight.”

You choked. And you definitely spat water all over the visor of his helmet. 

You coughed and stared at him, terrified, not sure if these were going to be your last few seconds as a breathing creature, but sure that if they were you at least had the image of the Mandalorian with water and spit sliding down the front of his helmet to console you. 

All three of you sat in silence for at least a minute before he leaned forward very slowly. You leaned as far back as your seat would allow. 

“That was a joke,” he told you, voice warm despite the crackle of his modulator. “You can’t see it, but I just winked.”

Screw making him mad. You were going to kill the Mandalorian. 

Tovar- This was officially one of the worst ways that you could think of to die. You sure that if you were given a few more minutes, and a few less spears pointed in your face to distract you, you could surely come up with at least five different ways that were, in fact, worse, but right now, this seemed pretty awful and didn’t seem likely to get any better. 

“I need you to trust me,” your companion murmured in your ear, his hand on your wrist, stopping you from drawing one of your long knives. You cut your eyes quickly to his normally laughing brown eyes and then back to the soldiers in front of you. 

“That never works out well for me, Tovar,” you remind him in a quiet hiss. He moves his arm from his side to around your shoulders and draws you close and tight against his much taller body. 

“Good day, gentlemen!” He calls jovially to the five armored men blocking their way on the road. You can hear the wide grin that must be plastered on his stupidly handsome face and you send up a fast prayer to God that he doesn’t manage to get you into worse trouble than you were in already. Or that at least William can manage to get you out of it again. 

“Halt,” the spear man in the middle orders, and Tovar stops walking, forcing you to as well, still tucked into his side. His left hand strokes your arm casually (you note its not his preferred sword hand which gives you some hope that he might actually have a plan), and he leans a bit more of his weight on you than you think is really called for. Is he pretending-

“Why whatever are you fine men doing in the middle of the road? Don’t you know there’s a war on! Shouldn’t you be off fighting that fierce some mercenary army?” You want to stab him. His entire left side is open and unguarded mere inches away from your favorite knife, you could slide the blade in right there between his ribs, you could have the pleasure of puncturing his lung and watching him slowly suffocate. Maybe he would finally stop talking. 

“No one is allowed past this point,” the spear man informed you, still glaring. “Who are you and what is your business here?” The other four soldiers inched closer and you stiffen. 

“Don’t,” Tovar ordered you through his clenched teeth, smile still in place. “I can get us out of this, I just need you to play along.”

“If we get out of this I am going to personally castrate you,” you inform him, a clenched tooth smile of your own on your face.

“Anything to get your hands on my cock, eh?” You elbowed him in that unprotected side you had been eyeing before he tried to bargain with the guardians of the road.

“Oh but surely sir, you wouldn’t hinder a poor man trying to get home to his farm?”The soldier looked extremely skeptical.

“If you’re a farmer, I’m the King of England.” Tovar shrugged.

“Alright, so I’m not a farmer. This rather attractive filly is, however, only paid for for another hour, and I had meant to have my way with her at least twice before my time was up. Surely you can understand my need to make all haste now?”

Nope, not castration. Castration and then you were going to make him watch as you fed his balls to goats.

“Don’t bite me please,” was all the warning you received before Tovar looked down at you, winked, and kissed you, lips surprisingly soft, and incredibly distracting. Maybe the castration could wait for a few hours.

Max Phillips- When the higher ups bring in a handsome new manager to boost sales and productivity you aren’t entirely surprised that every employee gets called one by one into his office for a “chat”. He’s new, it tracks that he’d want to get to know everybody.

You are both anticipating and dreading your own 2:30 appointment with the new boss man, you’re positive that out of all your coworkers your performance has been the most consistently decent since you were hired two years ago, but who knows. This was a new unknown element. His goal might be to shake things up to keep people on their toes.

You hear a ‘come in’ after you knock firmly on his closed door three minutes earlier than your scheduled time, and you find him working at his computer, jacket off, a pout on his lips that were frankly too pretty to be on such a distinctively masculine face, and his shirt sleeves artfully rolled up.

He doesn’t glance at you as he waves at a chair in front of his desk. You sit as instructed, and try as you might, are unable to help staring at him as he finishes whatever it is that requires such attention. You take in the tiny tattoo on his left hand with a little surprise. And you try very hard to ignore the shift and play of the muscles of his forearms under his lightly tanned skin. This is your new boss get a grip, you scold yourself, tearing your gaze away to rest on the shelves behind his head.

He sits back with a sigh and his palms hit his desk.

“I am sorry about that. I honestly hate computers, they’re just so impersonal, don’t you think?” He asks with a winning smile, eyes and attention totally on you now. You return his grin with a small, polite twitch of your own lips and raise your eyebrows questioningly at him.

“Anyways, I just wanted to get to know everybody here, you know? Know the real person behind your employee file! Find out what makes you tick, what gets you excited!” You’re only half paying attention to his spiel, but he garners your full and complete concentration when as he utters the word “excited” and he grins salaciously and winks at you.

You’re a little taken aback. You know you should call HR. At the very least that was thoughtless and at the worst, utterly inappropriate.

You are unfortunately intrigued. You know you won’t be calling anyone about this.

Maxwell Lord- You’d been working for Lord Enterprises for about a year before you were moved up to the top floor. You liked to think you were good at your job, you were a quick typist and resourceful, and you were excited about the bump in pay that accompanied your new position.

After a week of following one of the other girls around and learning the ins and out of the executive offices, you were turned loose and given your own duties and assignments. The very first of those were to take a pile of files from the desk of the most senior of the secretaries and make sure it ended up in the possession of Maxwell Lord himself. You hadn’t heard much about the the big boss one way or another, so you squared your shoulders and after knocking firmly, opened the door and entered his office.

Lord was seated behind a dark wood desk that you thought was probably a bit bigger than strictly necessary. He was in his shirt sleeves, waistcoat stretched over a bit of middle aged spread that he nonetheless wore well. His hair was thick, blond, and immaculately styled, and he was talking animatedly on the phone, gesturing with his free hand and you could see his body vibrating slightly as he bounced his leg up and down quickly.

He was a handsome man, and a lot younger than you had expected him to be. And when he looked up at you as you walked further into his office and smiled brightly at you his attractiveness only increased. His eyes were a deep, dark brown and they shone when two dimples appeared in his cheeks with his grin.

You held up the stack of folders in your hand and raised your eyebrows in a question. He gestured to the desk in front of him and you moved closer to set them gently down in front of the man. You observed him check you out from your hair down to you shoes as you walked closer and were a little surprised when no chauvinistic comment popped out of his mouth. This might have been the 80’s, but you were a secretary and knew that women’s rights only meant that you could earn your own paycheck now.

You nodded at him as you set them down and he mouthed ‘thank you’ as he continued to listen to the droning voice you could now hear over the telephone.

And then he winked at you.

Maybe this job would turn up some opportunities for you after all.

[risingsouls]

Recruited: Chapter 10

[I did another thing! This one is a lot shorter than the last several have been and a little more filler-y BUT we’re getting close to canon stuff (that I’m trying to figure out how I want to write and format still). SO here we gooooo!]

Vegeta

Any miniscule time he was forced to spend alone with Frieza aggravated the prince. Whether to bear the brunt of some reprimand, to listen to him discuss business to an audience of intergalactic dignitaries at a stupid feast he was dragged to and forced to endure like some pet, or to nod along with him prattling on about himself and insulting Vegeta or his race in a single breath, he preferred it when running an empire distracted Frieza from his existence. This rare occasion of the tyrant requesting his company on a special mission had the same effects: the usual rage of being helpless to end the emperor's life, the discomfort of watching his every step and word, the humiliation of bearing his belittling commentary and pretending to be his proud, obedient attack dog. It was maddening, and the only solace in the trip was that he left Dodoria and Zarbon both been behind to attend to other business.

Nappa, Raditz, and Nabooru had also been ordered to deal with another assignment while Vegeta accompanied Frieza. Disconcerting due to the fact that, in circumstances such as this, his cohorts would be ordered to remain on base until his return, placed on a schedule that included training and any other grunt work the commanders could find for them. However, he supposed Frieza wanted to keep his top teams busy conquering planets for him. Vegeta hadn't missed the increase in work they had been assigned, and even their latest three day reprieve had been cut short. He tried to convince himself it all meant nothing, that, even if Frieza noticed how the four of them trained more often than usual in their free time, his ego would keep him from getting too suspicious. But Vegeta couldn't deny the increase in his own paranoia with each passing day. Each day he stepped closer to exacting revenge and killing the bastard, and he constantly found himself dwelling on every possible scenario that could skew or outright obliterate his plot.

"It's almost a relief to have different company for once," Frieza mused, a wine glass held between his middle and index fingers. He nodded to the bottle, a silent insistence Vegeta top him off. The Saiyan swallowed his grimace and did as he was bade. Zarbon's or Dodoria’s usual task. He noted the shift of his crimson eyes to the still near full glass in his gloved hand, and took the hint to take another measured sip. "Zarbon and Dodoria tend to bore me after a while. And their bickering...if they weren't so loyal and useful, I may have offed them by now out of sheer annoyance."

Vegeta chuckled, practiced amusement and rehearsed reactions. "I can only imagine," he responded. Another glance spurred him to add, "I suffer the same with Raditz and Nappa. Though it's less their bickering than some inane, disgusting topic of conversation I don't care to hear in detail."

"Yes, I suppose that is an unfortunate vice of the lower classes, their obsessions with sating their lust." Frieza swirled the wine in his glass, black lips downturned in disgust. "A product of lower brain function, I suppose. They have little more than lewd absurdity to keep their minds occupied. Something the two of us fortunately don't suffer from."

The prince bowed his head, performing each gesture that appeased Frieza with loathing. He didn't care for his useless compliments. He found it hard to focus on them when all he could imagine was ripping those horns from his head and burying them in his eye sockets. Or shoving the wine glass into his mouth and forcing him to chew it up and swallow the shards to laugh as he watched him spit blood onto the pristine floor.  "Thank you, my lord. Your compliments are the highest honor."

"And they do not come lightly, Vegeta. You are an enigma of your kind. Had your race not perished, you would have made a fine ruler. Far better than your father." Vegeta ignored the twinge of rage his words plucked in favor of focusing on drinking the dry wine. "Yes, my tutelage has done wonders for you. Perhaps if my father had done the same with yours as I have done for you, perhaps he, too, could have evolved from a mere monkey playing court and dressed in regalia to a full-fledged ruler."

To keep his grip loose on the stem of his glass and not shatter it proved challenging in the face of his father's mockery. No matter his mixed feelings of the deceased Saiyan king, he did not take insults of his memory well. Especially from the likes of Frieza. He bit his tongue and once more drank to silence the blazing barrage of insults he wanted to sling in retort. 

"You are too kind, my lord." The words burned like acid on his tongue. "I agree that my growth under your watchful eye has favored me greatly. I thank you."

"Of course. I saw promise in you the moment I set eyes on you. However, there is always room to grow and learn, wouldn't you say?"

His tone, the smirk on his lips, ramped Vegeta's paranoia to near overload. Had Frieza found out about his plotting? Led him and his team straight into a trap of some sort?

He was given little time to consider as Frieza spoke up again. "Earlier you only mentioned your Saiyan comrades. It reminded me that you and I have never fully discussed the fourth I added to your team. How has she fared?"

"Nabooru is a competent warrior, well-versed in her craft and battle strategy. She fits in well, and, outside of being mouthy and questioning my authority once in a while, she's proven her worth." He glanced to the wide window before them, to the passing stars and junk, the endless void of space. "She learns quickly and strives to improve where she can. She was hesitant to carry out orders, but has grown out of it for the most part."

Frieza laughed. "Such a glowing report from the commander who pitched a fit over my decision." Vegeta's lips tightened to a thin line and his brows lowered ever further, only encouraging the emperor's delight. "I can't say I'm surprised she has a belligerent streak. Her former king said the same of her when I asked in one of our visits. Your temper must be improving if her first strike didn't convince you to kill her. I have seen you kill for less, after all, Vegeta."

Vegeta clicked his tongue. "She's simply lucky she figured out not to take her insubordination too far with me. Otherwise, I would have. Her power level and skill be damned."

"A lesson well-learned, it seems. I recall it took you some time to learn the same, but I suppose you had the excuse of being a mere child."

Vegeta merely nodded, the memories of the physical abuses doled out by Frieza's or one of his cohorts' hands when he rebelled and the scars left behind all too fresh despite their age. The mental mutilation of the mind games the tyrant played with him. Each had served their purpose because he vowed and showed respect to the bastard with little beckoning. It made him sick, clawed at his pride and convinced him death would be a more pleasant fate. But he wanted revenge more than anything, so survive he must. No matter the cost. It would be worth it someday.

"Sir, we are approaching our target," the captain announced. "T-minus five minutes."

"Excellent. Remember, there will be no need to land here." 

Vegeta glanced to Frieza when his scouter pinged. He pressed the button on the side. "Ah, what good timing, Nabooru. You have landed on Planet Noya and met with the other team there?"

Frieza cut the transmission and sighed dramatically. "Unfortunate, really." He finished off his wine and set the glass aside. "Shikoo and his team were quite the commodity. But one too many rumors about stoking rebellions and insubordination makes it difficult to keep such bad seeds among the loyal."

He waited for her reply, the smirk on his lips growing ever wider. "Yes, yes, I am aware of the success in purging the planet. The instructions to rendezvous with the soldiers sent to Noya were...purposefully vague. The task for you and the Saiyans is to kill that team. Don't worry your pretty head over why, dear. It's unbecoming of a soldier.. Their punishment has been a long time coming."

Vegeta's throat closed up and his mouth dried out. "The proper decision, it sounds like, sire," he managed, finishing his own glass and abandoning it. "Not to overstep my own boundaries, but I assumed we were purging this planet we're going to."

"We are. In a sense." He hoisted himself into his hover chair and propped his elbow on the edge, cheek resting in his palm. His crimson gaze rested on Vegeta, unblinking. "The denizens are...formidable enough, especially en masse, and intel suggests they wish to rebel against me. I have decided the time and potential casualties aren't worth the effort for what little the planet has to offer in the long run, so destroying it entirely will be a far better use for dealing with them. One and done, as they say."

A rare instance in which Vegeta agreed with Frieza’s methodology. He wished he would pass down such an order more often than he did, frankly. Putting down rebellions wasted time when they typically ended up murdering them all anyway. Any extra precautions and instructions usually forced them to hold back or went up in smoke not long after they landed. While he understood that some planets had more value than others, blowing up the planets and washing their hands of the business would allow them to take on more jobs. Send a team to gather whatever resources from the planet beforehand and then he and his team or one like his could destroy the place and move on. Not to mention he liked the thrill, the power behind destroying an entire world on his own.

A blue green planet slowly drifted into view, decent sized with a large landmass facing the ship in its current position in its rotation. Frieza waved for him to follow him to the center of the ship. "Come along. Vegeta. We will approach close enough that your ki will protect you from the lack of oxygen. I will allow you to do the honors." 

Vegeta took the blare of the signal for the opening of the uppermost hatch as his cue to surround himself in a protective barrier of energy. While he could not survive the void of space this way, it offered protection from suffocation for at least a few minutes. More than enough to obliterate the planet and retreat into the safety of the ship once more. He followed Frieza up and through the hatch, hovering over it and facing the planet.

Though only allowed the chance to destroy entire planets on a few occasions, he made a point to remember what it felt like. The exact amount of energy he needed to build in his palms, how to adjust for the size and density of the planet. Back of one hand pressed to his palm, he shifted his arms back behind his head. Violet energy surged around his hands, his body, the draw and thrill of powering up familiar and welcome. Up and up he allowed his energy to rise until he deemed it the perfect amount to accomplish the task at hand. He shoved his hands outward once more and the stored cache of energy fired from his palms and through space, surging through the planet's atmosphere and striking the surface within seconds. The blast drilled through the landmass toward the core, wide cracks and fiery splotches already spreading from the point of contact.

With another beckoning from Frieza, Vegeta lingered a moment longer to watch the spectacle of magma shooting upward and his blast rending the planet in twain before following him back into the ship. The hatch closed and they returned to the navigation deck.

"Not bad, prince," Frieza drawled, scarlet gaze locked on the demolition out the window. "A bit messy, but unfortunately we don't have time to witness the entire fireworks show." A nod to the captain. "To our next destination."

The captain bowed and turned back to the controls. Before they swiveled around fully, Vegeta caught a glimpse of the planet's final moments: a series of explosions peppering the surface as its stability caved. Within moments, it would be nothing but space dust floating among the stars. A mere memory until it faded from it. Would any of its race survive? Would they hear the news of their home's destruction immediately, or only find empty blackness when they return? Would they, too, be plucked from whatever refuge allowed their survival to serve the Cold Empire? Told that a meteor destroyed their planet and they really had little other choice left as the empire still technically owned them?

His jaw tightened. He couldn't dwell on such things. None of it mattered. It never did. I never would.

[rosesvioletshardy]

life as we know it - b.h. chapter 2

finally this is done. it’s a little shorter than last chapter but i can’t promise it’s better? anyways i might take a little while on the next chapter because exams are coming up and i need to study so i just hoping y’all don’t give up on this i have started writing chapter 3

masterlist

summary: when their two best friends die, it’s up to people to take care of their goddaughter and face the challenges that come with it

# of words: 2305

warnings: little bit of swearing, both characters being dicks to each other, fluff and cuteness

--

late september 2016

over the months, everything went smoothing. ben went back to filming and y/n went back to running her bakery. when christian and lennon came back, they had the post wedding glow but at the same time lennon had the pregnancy glow like every other pregnant woman would. nothing would stop that woman from teaching and decided that at her 8 month mark she finally decided to stop and go on maternity leave until she was ready to go back.

Because of this, y/n and ben have been on high alert and making sure that their godchild and mother and father were okay. it was revealed that lennon was going to have a girl and everyone was so happy for her and christian. her due date was halloween and no one was shocked seeing it was lennon’s favorite holiday. earlier in the day, christian had sent lennon, his mother, and her mother all for a spa day so that him, ben, and y/n would be able to work on the nursery seeing that it wasn’t done besides the crib. the only problem was that arguments started all over again

“no, why can’t you help christian with the changing table and i actually paint. i’m the only one here who is at least creative and can draw and shit, no offense christian.” y/n told ben already rubbing the sides of her forehead knowing that her headache won’t go away

“none taken, and she’s right jonesy, we can’t draw for shit let alone paint without screwing up.” christian said not even looking up from the changing table instructions already tired of the two adults fighting and acting like children

“are you joking? how would you, of all people, know i can’t draw? maybe i’m good at it and it’s a secret talent i have?” ben told at her

“yeah, and i’m a world class gymnast that can do everything perfectly without screwing up!” 

“can the both of you just literally shut the fuck up and paint different sides of the room the colors we picked out please?” christian practically yelled the two adults before continuing

“look, i know you both want to be the best godparents there ever is and make sure you make lennon and i happy, and that this baby gets everything handed to her perfect. you’ve already done that just by helping us with everything else and by being our best friends and family,  but just for this one time, i need the both of you to do something where it seems like she won’t be the adult and you two are the children. now, she’s going to be back in about 2 hours and i promised her we’ll get at least half the room done and we’ll finish the rest either tomorrow or the day after or whenever. just, do whatever we have planned and that’ll be great. thank you.” christian told them

“fine, maybe i could lay down the tape and you can paint i’m tired of this already. i got somewhere to be soon anyways.” ben said grabbing the tape

“fine, maybe i could lay down the tape and you can paint i’m tired of this already. i got somewhere to be soon anyways.” ben said grabbing the tape

The three continued to work on the room and filming some memories for baby wakes up until christian got a call from his mother telling him that lennon’s water broke in the middle of a facial

“i thought she was supposed to give birth next month?” ben yelled searching frantically over the couples house for the stuff they needed

“she was, the baby just decided to come out early i suppose.” christian told him not being able to find where he put the baby bag for lennon when she gives birth and y/n noticing causing her to react

“chris, why don’t you go to the hospital and we’ll meet up later with some of the stuff you’re going to need afterwards. okay? just take a deep breath, in and out. good, now go be a dad.”

“congratulations you got this we’ll see you as soon as she’s born.” ben told him hugging him

“okay, see you guys soon. I’m going to be a dad!” he yelled as he ran to his car

“i’ll get their stuff ready, you can go wherever you need to go. i’ll call you when lennon gives birth.” she told him as she started to walk to lennon and christian’s room and grabbing one of their bags

“are you sure? i can call and cancel and reschedule? i don’t want you to always be the one doing the work, especially in times like this.” ben said to her

“yeah, i’m fine. your meeting sounded important, like for a new movie or something. just go ben. it’s fine.”

“alright then, um, just text or call me if anything happens. bye.” ben said leaving the room and headed towards his car

y/n next spent the next few hours fixing up some stuff to take for them and fixing them some food to eat that can feed a whole army knowing that they’ll have their hands full for a while 

according to christian, lennon still hasn’t given birth but she’s close, so y/n decided to head down there in case. 

as soon as she left, ben entered the house again, feeling guilty that he left without helping her with everything and deciding to finish building all the furniture. when he was finished, he sat in the middle of the room thinking about how life can suddenly change for two people as another one came into their lives. he snapped out of his thoughts when his phone started to ring, he answered it without looking at the caller ID and he got his with someone yelling in his ear.

“SHE’S HERE! BABY WAKES IS HERE! GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE!” y/n yelled before she hung up causing ben to quickly get up and run back down to his car and to the hospital. 

When ben arrived at the  hospital after stopping at the store to get a few stuff, also known as a giant teddy bear and a couple of balloons, he saw y/n pacing back and forth waiting for christian to come and get them. she saw that he had gotten the exact same teddy bear as her and she wanted to call him out but it was normal for people to do this kind of stuff and plus their goddaughter was just born so they didn’t want to fight at the moment. 

“i would yell at you right now and be mad and annoyed that you got the exact same thing as me, but since we are in a very public space i won’t.” she told him

“thanks, have they said anything?” ben asked her as he sat down

“no not yet, christian came out to tell me everything was fine though, they just needed to clean her up and do some tests, and then are allowed visitors.” “okay. i really can’t believe that they’re parents now. it’s really unbelievable, when i was growing up with christian, never would i think that guy would be mature enough to become a father, let alone a lawyer, and now he’s both. jesus it’s crazy.” ben said shaking his leg with excitement

“same here, lennon was basically the wild child in college but she somehow is a schoolteacher. everyone thought i would be the first to get married and have a kid, but wow how have the tables turned.” she said finally sitting down

“so why haven’t you settled down or have kids? if you’re comfortable answering?” ben asked her curious seeing that she seemed like the type to settle down by their age

“um, i guess i just haven’t found the right person yet. i thought my ex would be the one, but the douchebag cheated on me.” y/n told him looking down at her hands

“i’m sorry that happened. i also want to apologize for earlier this year when we tried to go on the date they set up. i really should’ve been more presentable and nicer-” ben started 

“and not take a booty call in front of me?” she said cutting him off

“and not take a booty call in front of you.” he finished laughing a bit

“it’s okay, really. i’m actually seeing someone and i think he’s great.” y/n told him

“that’s amazing, i’m really happy for you.”

“what about you? what happened to the brunette from their wedding?” y/n asked curiously

“nothing. she didn’t seem like my type-” ben began before getting cut off by christian telling them they could come in

“hey, you guys can come now.” 

ben and y/n followed christian to their room and they couldn’t be more excited. as they entered, they saw lennon in her bed cradling their daughter and the two godparents couldn’t have smiled bigger at the sight.

“hi guys, we want you to meet  charlotte lucia wakes, charlie for short” lennon told the two before continuing

“do you want to hold her?” she asked

“uh, yeah. she’s so small.” y/n said taking the baby from her best friend as christian pushed a chair for her to sit in, cradling her head

ben walked over to where y/n was and looked over her shoulder. she lightly ran her finger over the baby’s face before she stopped at her hand and charlie tightly wrapping y/n’s finger in her tiny hand.

“hi baby, i’m your auntie y/n, i’m going to make sure you have some fun in your life and not be trapped with your parents all the time.” she said in a whisper

ben looked at her holding the baby and wondered what it would be like to be a dad. he was snapped out of his daydream when y/n asked him if he wanted to hold her

“ben, hello, earth to ben?” 

“yeah? sorry what did you say?” ben asked snapping out of his thoughts

“i asked if you wanted to hold her. you okay?” she asked him

“yeah i’m fine, just thinking.” he told her as she gave charlie to him making sure he was holding her head

the next few hours consisted of the four adults talking about the process up until lennon had to feed charlie and ben and y/n decided it was a good time for them to leave seeing that it was already late and visiting hours were almost over.

the pair said their goodbyes to the new parents and headed on their way out. when they got to the entrance, y/n pulled out her phone to order an uber since she didn’t take her car when it happened. ben noticed and decided to offer her a ride home seeing that it was nighttime and no one knew if the driver ended up being a creep or not. 

“hey, do you want me to give you a ride?” ben asked her putting his hands in his pockets 

“you really don’t have to, i just ordered an uber. thanks for offering though.”

“it’s really no problem, you still live in the same place right?” ben asked still unsure if she had move in the past several months 

“i still live in the same place, yeah. are you sure though? i really don’t want to bother you.” she told him 

“you're not bothering me at all and it’s really nothing. just please let me do this one nice thing for once. i sort of don’t want something to happen to you because you never know what’s going to happen.”

“ben jones, are you going soft on me? fine. i’ll let you drive me home.” she asked him while crossing her arms before opening the uber app once again, canceling her ride.

“no, i’m not. i’m just trying to be a nice person, don’t think charlie wants to grow up without an aunt and only have an uncle.” ben told her trying to avoid eye contact

“yeah that’s why.” 

“okay enough let’s go.”

y/n laughed as she followed ben to where his car was. when they entered the car it felt a little awkward. why was ben all of a sudden being nice to her? 

The drive to her apartment was too quiet to both of their tastes. neither one of them knew how to strike up a conversation, not even how their day was before lennon gave birth but they knew that  already, or what they’ve been up to. they kept quiet until she broke the silence,

“so, how was your meeting today?”

“it was fine, just some acting stuff that’s all” ben answered before continuing

“how’s the bakery going?”

“it’s going good, thinking about renovating it a bit, you know changing the place up, trying new recipes”

“That sounds nice. hope you get to do it.” ben told her stopping at the light

“yeah, it does but it’s also expensive so it’s on a hold until i can figure out something.” y/n told him as she looked at the window

“you know i can always help, just have to ask. it’s no big deal.” ben said as he pulled up to her apartment complex seeing the familiar gates

“no. i can’t take advantage of you, ben. it’s your money and you do what you want with it. i know you’re trying to help but i really don’t need to be seen as a charity case. please don’t try to argue with me.” she told him in a pleading tone

“fine. i won’t help you then. goodnight y/n.” 

“i’m sorry. goodnight ben.” y/n told him, her voice barely in a whisper closing the door

as ben drove off, the two can’t help but feel a sense of guilt in the way they both acted to each other a few minutes ago. ben, because of the way he started to act after she rejected his offer, and y/n for the way she rejected his offer.

[stowaway-macaw]

Biome Curse (Part 6)

Xisuma flipped through pages and pages of logs, eyes strained at the poor lighting in his small filing room. Of all the places in his base to not be lit well, Xisuma was frustrated that it was this room. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it didn't matter. Something was obviously and unbelievably wrong. The rapid sound of paper flipping was cut through by a loud knock at the door. Xisuma jumped at the noise, but quickly regained his composure and called out to the door.

"Come in." The door opened and in the doorway was Iskall and Stress. 

"Dude, you look terrible." Was the first thing that was said, straight from the mouth of Iskall.

"Gee, thanks. What'd you guys need?" Xisuma asked while setting the papers on a box that had already been opened, but hastily resealed.

"We wanted to ask you for some stuff… and talk about all of the recent uh… events." Stress phrased the sentence carefully, but she was obviously eager to get some information. The two visitors could see Xisuma's eyes grow serious, and Iskall turned to signal Stress to explain.

"See… I think something's going on with the jungle. In a bad way. Also, everyone's been so paranoid since that message showed up in chat. I think I might know a way to help, but I needed information. I asked Iskall to check out some spotty places in the jungle and he told me about one area by a lake." Xisuma stopped her to ask a question, hoping to find a lead of some sort.

"What were the coordinates?" Iskall handed him a small piece of paper with some numbers hastily scribbled on it.

"I wrote these down when I got to the edge of that lake. I boated across to get a better look, and while the place looked normal, I couldn't hear anything. It was mega weird. There were no mobs either, but I felt like I was being watched. When I walked far enough, I could hear everything again. Even Jel- erm… a cat showed up." Iskall's fumble didn't go unnoticed by Xisuma, but he elected to ignore it.

"But besides that, are you sure you're cool with helping us, dude? You seriously look like you're about to fall over." When Iskall brought the attention back to Xisuma, Stress nodded her head.

"Yeah, you look exhausted. How long have you been at this? Your helmet is hard to see through and even I can see how bloodshot your eyes are." Stress pointed out, knitting her eyebrows.

"I don't think it's been that long. I've only been at this since the message came in." Stress proceeded to move to Xisuma's side and place a hand on his back.

"Oh no, we've seen you do this before. It's almost been a full day since we saw that thing and the sun will be down in just a few hours. We're not going to have another delirious X on our hands. It's off to bed with you." Stress scolded as she shoved her friend towards the door.

"Wha- hey, it's really not that bad! Besides we need to solve this problem." Iskall cut Xisuma off before he could protest more.

"Dude, it's fine. We're all still here and okay. The world isn't gonna end because you got a good night's sleep."

"But what about Stress's-"

"Xisuma, love, it's fine! If it really bothers you that much then give us a thirty second run-down on what you've already found and we'll go from there!" They kept pushing their admin to his bedroom, and Xisuma sighed in defeat.

"Alright, fine. You're right. I haven't actually found much. It's more what I can't find that's bothering me. I've looked over documents and commands, but there are two things that are always missing from all of them. Two players to be exact. Player one has a longer name while player two's is much shorter. Their names are always missing and all of the characters are replaced with question marks. It's strange, I can't find their names anywhere, but they show up so much in the logs, like they were there from the beginning of the world, like the rest of us. All of their messages are in that language and it looks like we had even talked to them before…" by the time Xisuma had finished, his two friends had led him to his bed and he sat down on it while talking.

"That's so weird, but I think that makes sense." Stress looked at Iskall when he said that and raised an eyebrow.

"Really?"

"Yeah, haven't you noticed? Something's missing. Something big that we used to see all the time. It would make sense if it was two whole players that went missing." Xisuma processed Iskall's words and eventually nodded.

"I agree. But that still wouldn't explain why we don't remember them."

"Maybe it's magic?" Stress offered, only to get two looks from her friends that just screamed "really? You're going with that?"

"I'm serious! Magic stuff happens all the time among the hermits! Cub has his weird vex thing, I'm pretty sure Ren is possessed by something? He keeps talking about an emperor, but maybe that's not a good example. I've had magic and still do! We enchant our tools, so why wouldn't someone who knows that enchanting language enchant players?" The longer she talked, the more convinced her friends looked. 

"That would explain some things, but that also makes this much harder." Xisuma said, looking down.

"Why?" Iskall questioned, somewhat discouraged by Xisuma's interjection.

"Magic doesn't have strict rules; it's not as clean cut as code or admin commands. If it really is magic then this could mean a game of loopholes. Finding the loopholes in spells is the key to exploiting and breaking enchantments." Stress nodded once Xisuma had finished.

"I can confirm that. I've had more experience with ice magic in the past and I can tell you right now that none of it was reliable in the slightest. Every time I thought I had figured out a rule, I would break it. It's still happening now with my flowers and nature magic, but I haven't had it for as long."

"So it's magic then. We need someone good at loopholes then." Iskall put his hand to his chin, thinking of who they could ask. Stress suddenly cringed. Iskall looked at her, noticing the sour look on her face.

"What's up? You think of someone?" Stress sighed and nodded.

"Yes, but only because he scammed the whole server." Xisuma perked up at her sentence.

"Ooh…" he cringed as well, but with significantly less malice.

"The lifetime subscription… "

"...Of free glass." She finished. The two then looked at each other and nodded before saying in unison:

"Etho."

Etho himself was a different kind of chaotic. A kind that was much more… intentional. Despite that, the trio agreed it would be smart to bring him into the mix while using Stress as a reference for magical tendencies. The man usually had good intentions anyway. Emphasis on "usually".

"Well now that we have that sorted out, you need to go to bed early." Iskall said, while motioning for Stress to follow him out of the room.

"Yes yes, alright. If you guys find anything else though, let me know." They both nodded and left the room where Xisuma promptly fell asleep much quicker than he had thought he would.

Stress and Iskall eventually parted ways, but Stress still had something on her mind. The bird man she had met earlier had a strange air about him. She could sense magic on him, and his body language suggested he was hardly used to the showy attire he sported. She also had this overwhelming feeling that she had seen him before, but her brain wouldn't let her remember. To her, that was enough proof that maybe he was one of the missing players, but she wasn't sure if she should tell the others since there were quite a few hermits who could turn a mess into a wildfire.

With a new resolve, Stress went off to work at her base, not before glancing over to the mysterious mansion looming in the distance and the shore of the shallow lake that looked too barren. She resolved to go to the same place the next day, hoping the bird man would be there then.

And a mere two hours later, said man was flying his way back to the shallow lake, the wish Stress had made clutched in his hand. Grian could feel himself cross the barrier and landed gracefully on the grass and fallen leaves of the jungle, careful not to stir up the surrounding foliage too much with his landing.

"You're back!" Scar ran up to Grian, Jellie in his arms.

"Sure am. And look what I've got." He waved the book in the air in small, quick motions.

"It's Stress's, right?" Grian fumbled at Scar's guess and sputtered out,

"Wh- y-yeah. How did…?" Scar laughed a genuine, good-natured laugh at his friend's surprise before explaining.

"Iskall came by here earlier. He walked through here and couldn't see me or the village, but he was able to see Jellie once he crossed the barrier on the other side. He started talking to her and mentioned that Stress told him to look around." While Scar talked, he made his way to the village snail and led Grian up the ladder, not before tucking Jellie in his robe.

"Also, the jungle gave me some pants." When they had reached the top, Grian looked to see that the jungle had, in fact, given the wizard some pants.

"I see that. Did you have a conversation with it?" 

"Yeah. Remember that red parrot that we both saw before all this happened?" Grian nodded.

"I think that's the form it's taking. Which is good. It means it won't always be watching our every move. The bird doesn't blink though, so it's kinda cree-" Scar stopped mid-sentence.

"Hello? What are you-" 

"Shh, quiet." Grian immediately stopped talking. The two stood in silence for a few minutes, after which Scar closed the door and dimmed the lanterns lighting the place.

"I think it's gone now, but just in case, I'm going to make it look like we've gone to bed." Scar explained.

"I can sense it's presence. I've been trying to teach myself how since it approached me, and I'm able to sense it while it's about six meters from our barrier. Not much, I know, but it's better than nothing." Silence.

"So, yeah. Can I see the wish?" Grian handed Scar the wish, still not saying anything.

"Thanks." Scar read the wish, and nodded.

"Okay, I think we'll be able to do this. I think it's actually pretty simple. It shouldn't require any magic, just a public event maybe." Silence.

"Sound good?" Grian nodded.

"Why are you suddenly so quiet?" Grian pointed to where his mouth was under the mask, made a zipping motion with his fingers, then pointed at Scar.

"What? What are you- oh! Oh I'm so sorry! You can talk now." Grian let out a groan.

"I'm really getting sick of this whole familiar thing." Grian said in a begrudging tone. Scar laughed nervously and looked away.

"It's good that you can sense where that thing is though. And yeah, I think you're right about the event thing. The hermits aren't very hard to cheer up, excluding a few." 

"Yeah. You don't mind doing what you did today, tomorrow, right?" 

"Nope. I've gotta check up on Stress anyway." 

"Awesome. Well we should probably get to bed now." Grian nodded at Scar's suggestion and plopped down on his designated bed.

"I'm not sure if I'll be able to sleep though. I've been doing nothing all day except wait." Grian complained, staring down at his pillow.

"You said being in the pendant was like a good night's sleep, right? Why not just do that?" Grian thought for a moment, not sure if he should take the offer.

"I mean, I guess? It's worth a shot. I don't know if I can do it on my own though, so you should just tell me to do it." Scar agreed.

"Alright. I guess I just…" he hesitated.

"Go back to the pendant?" The command sounded more like a question, but it was still a command. Yet, nothing happened.

"Umm, maybe you weren't commanding enough?" Grian suggested. Scar thought back to when the phenomenon had happened previously. What was different? Suddenly, Scar perked up.

"Oh! I know! Take off your mask." Grian's hand slid the mask off of his face seemingly on its own and the room was filled with a burst of color as soon as Scar could see Grian's face. And just like that, he was nowhere to be seen. 

"I guess I'll… wait until morning?" He directed the question at Jellie, who was curled up where Grian would have slept. He took her comfortable purr as agreement and settled into his own bed.

"There goes day two." Scar mumbled to himself as he drifted off to sleep.