#this was supposed to be hot girl summer but it’s once again summertime sadness | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rason-rodd · 3 years

Text

All The Time We Need - Jason Todd x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Summary: Reader and Jason meet again after two years being apart and reconnect with their long lost love.

Warning : Angst, Fluff, Smut

Author’s note: A OS definitely inspired by my 2-years long hiatus and that somewhat acknowledges it. It was almost cathartic writing it and allowed me to reconnect with Jason on a writing scale. You can read it as a sequel to “Summer Love and Swimming Pool” or not. Some moments are a bit too cheesy to my taste but I hope you’ll enjoy it nevertheless. NSFW Part is at the end. You can skip that part if you want to.

You actually realise Time flies when you take time to acknowledge it. And sometimes acknowledging is like getting buried under a mountain of sand and feeling each grain slowly chocking you and reminding you there is no escaping. The sands of Time cannot be stopped, nor can they be shoveled. They run and slip through your fingers like dust in the wind and the tighter you try to grasp them the faster they go. And when they’re gone, there is no catching them back. That’s why Time is scary. Because no matter what you do, it won’t allow you to go back or to put an end to it. And it will certainly not allow you to forget about it either. Time will pave your life until the day you die with a constant reminder that, unlike it, you’re not eternal. And the saddest thing is it doesn’t care about what you think of it. And yet, it seemed like Jason Todd had managed to tell Time to go fuck itself. “How long has it been?”

He hadn’t changed a bit. Looking as handsome as ever. Always and eternally sporting the same disheveled short black hair and the same mischievous yet tortured blue eyes, eyes that had put you in more trouble than you could remember. “Two years or so … I don’t know.” All you could remember was a passionate summertime infatuation that had burnt your body and your heart night and day like a hot and dazzling sun. A fading yet intense memory you secretly cherished and replayed in period of loneliness and that you couldn’t seem to be able to replace on the timeline of your life. “Still so beautiful, I see.” You scoffed and he chuckled. “What?” “You haven’t changed a bit, have you?” He scratched his head; arm muscles compressed in a leather jacket à la Jason that made you wonder how he could bear wearing such a light jacket in such freezing weather. “I tend to believe constancy is a quality.” You goggled at his smile, childish, adorable yet naturally so seductive. The same smile that used to make your legs shake and turn to jell-o. “I didn’t know you were back in Gotham.” “Right back at you. Last time I heard of you, you were in this little town … Hopletown, was it?” “Appleton.” He corrected. “Looks like Timbo talks about me in my absence.” “You’re his brother. Of course, he talks about you, just like everyone else in your family.” Judging by his signature small crooked smile on his face he seemed touched by your words, taking even time to ponder over them. Did the family really think of him in his absence?

Shivering, you tightened your wool coat around you, attempting to prevent the cold wind to infiltrate under the cloth and steal your body heat, as you let Jason think about what you had just said. But your reaction didn’t go unnoticed and it managed to pull him out of his train of thoughts. “Do you want to go somewhere warmer? We could have something to drink, catch on. I’m sure you got plenty to tell.” “Not plenty but I could use a hot tea.” You confessed, already imagining the spicy smell of cinnamon and chai in your nostrils and the hot steam caressing your cold face. “Amazing.” He grinned, genuinely happy and excited, a bit like a little boy at a toy store, and lowered your beanie to properly cover your ice-cold reddened ears. That gesture got you confused for a small second but it was so sweet and caring you eventually smiled. Ah Todd, always the overprotective type I see.

***

“So, what are you doing in Gotham City? I thought you wanted to ‘travel the world Dora The Explorer-style and get the hell out of this cesspool’?” He quoted you and your genuine chuckle made him smile but only briefly as you gained back your seriousness in a matter of seconds.

He could tell you were not the same girl he used to date two summers ago. You had changed, matured. You had become a woman, a woman who seemed to struggle with responsibilities so heavy they could crush her at any second. You looked tired, weary… sad even. The cheeky light in you was gone. And he wanted to know why. Not out of curiosity but to help you. “Well, I did travel and it was awesome, like a dream come true. But I guess we always wake up from dreams eventually.” You looked down at your tea, looking at your pale reflection in the hot water, melancholia hitting you like a train. “My mother got sick and, well, her savings were not enough to pay for all the medical care so … let’s say I had to swap my backpack for a satchel… I work at Wayne Enterprises now. Bruce hired me, out of pity I suppose.” “I’m sure it wasn’t out of pity.” You shrugged and Jason grabbed your hand and you looked up at him. “And I’m sorry about your mother. I know how it’s like to …” “Do you still think about us?” You abruptly cut him short, not willing to keep talking about your personal issues or to plunge Jason back in dark memories that you know were very hard for him to handle. Sure, you could have chosen another question, another topic of conversation but the thing was that those words were niggling at you since the moment you two broke up. “I mean do you happen to think about what happened between us?”

Jason didn’t answer at first, more out of surprise than out of hesitation because there was none. There was just one answer to that question. Of course. Of course he had thought about you all over those two years. Of course he had thought about what happened, about the moments spent with you – however ephemeral they had been -, about that love he had felt and had never learned to completely erase despite the women who had entered and exited his life. Of course there had been nights in which he had replayed the lustful burning memories of you in his arms, against him, against his naked body. Of course was the answer. But not the answer he gave you. “Come with me.” He forced you to get up and slammed a fifty-dollar bill against the table, not caring about the hot chocolate he hadn’t finished or the blueberry muffin you had barely touched. “But … the change.” You tried to protest. “Fuck the change. I want to show you something.”

***

Out of all the places in Gotham, you never thought he would have brought you here. “Why are we here, Jason?” It was an ancient building, far from the fancy city centre and only a few blocks away from Crime Alley. Dilapidated, covered in colorful yet ugly graffiti, this place looked liked a landmark for drug dealers and junkies and it was an understatement to say that, without Jason’s company, it would have normally made you feel unsafe and uncomfortable. “I grew up here, before Bruce took me in.” You glanced at Jason who was staring at the place with both disgust and melancholia. “I’ve always hated that place. But it was home. And I guess it made me… I guess that is because of that place that I somehow became the man I am today… I mean, if Jason Todd hadn’t grow up here with a junkie mother and a lousy father he would have never met Brue Wayne and never became …” He stopped, on purpose, you could tell it. “Even if I hate to, I come back here when I want to think of my past, when I’m looking for a reason to keep on fighting. This place is like my temple, a memento of who I am. Damn, you must think I’m crazy.” “ No, not at all… ” You smiled and put your hand on his arm to reassure him. “Just very Romantic for the bad boy of the Wayne family.” You teased him, knowing perfectly that literature always been Jason’s hobbyhorse and that the whole bad boy thing was a persona, a thick armour he had made to protect himself. “Blame Alfred. He’s the one who made me ready Wordsworth.” He joked, appreciating the small banter. “Follow me.” You took the warm hand he offered you and followed him inside the decaying building, minding your step and trying to ignore the dirt and the potential rats.

Once on the third floor, Jason pushed a rackety wooden door that cracked and squeaked on its hinges and you entered what once was his house. “You grew up here?” You asked only to fill the heavy void caused by this dreadful place. “It was the living room. Used to hide under the table there when my parents were fighting.”

You looked around you, trying to imagine a small Jason living in here. You always knew about his crappy childhood but there is a huge difference between what you had imagined based on the stories Jason had told you in the intimacy of your bedroom and this place. “You asked me why we’re here.” You turned around and spotted Jason knelt on the dusty wooden floor, a small dusty shoebox that he had just taken from under a floorboard between his hands. “I’ve had this since I was a child. Used to keep the things I loved most in it. Somehow, even after I left this place, I never could take it away from here.” He handed it to you and you slowly opened it, careful not to drop it. You could tell this box was important to Jason.

The content left you silent and you sat on the floor near Jason to study it. “I never really opened it. I don’t like getting stuck in the past. It terrifies me.” You frowned, thinking about all the nightmares, all the anxiety attacks he used to have back in the days you were together. “I never showed it to anyone either but hopefully that’ll answer the question you asked me in that coffee shop.” The question? You had forgotten about it, way too overwhelmed by the sudden solemnity of this moment. “Never?” “You’re my first. You should be proud” He tried to joke to lighten the mood and it worked for a couple of seconds. Then, you saw it, among a dog toy, a broken necklace, a batarang and other small tokens. A photo of you two kissing and smiling. A Polaroid you had personally taken on the day when Tim had offered you the camera to illustrate your travel book. “You kept it.” You declared in a whisper. “I told you. I keep the things I love most in that box.” You stared at Jason, at the cracks of melancholia and the vulnerability in his beautiful blue eyes he allowed only a few people to see. “Of course I thought of you over the years.” You were not the cheesy romantic type. Jason was - something rooted to his love for gothic literature and poetry you supposed. But that sincere and pure confession got you all … flushed? bothered? You couldn’t really pinpoint the feeling but you could feel the shaky warmth spreading in your body, now paralyzed by the beauty of that moment. “Did you … think of me?”

If Time could stop, you would have chosen this moment to stop it. Here, now, away from your stressful life and its issues, away from all fears and all pains, with Jason and only him, forgetting about the past you’ll never be able to change or the future that vows to be uncertain and scary, thinking about what truly matters, now. “What do you think?” He chuckled and you saw his hand slightly twitch, as if he was hesitating to do something. And so you took it in yours and shared an umpteenth intimate look only he could read. “Sometimes I wish I’d never left.” Meaning, sometimes I wish I would have stayed and be with you. “Trust me, princess. You made the right choice. Your life would have been miserable with me.” He tried to reassure you, in vain. After all, he could barely convince himself? “More miserable than the one I have right now? I seriously doubt it, Jay.” You frowned and finally got up, leaving Jason’s box on the ground, to watch at the sunset and its red golden rays from the shattered window. “What do you think would have happened had I stayed?” You had your ideas; small little ones of pure love, happiness and bliss that Jason would have managed to lock in that little box of his. “I have a better question, Y/N. What do you think can happen right now?” He was towering you, expecting an answer, waiting as he was gazing at your skin glowing under the soft light of the sun and at your shining eyes. “You tell me, Todd.” This sentence echoed in Jason’s head as a call.

And so his thumb brushed your cold cheek and you looked up at his face, your eyes glued to his features observing them and all the small details you hadn’t noticed before. A little scar thin as a needle on his right brow and a much bigger one, an invisible one that you could see in his eyes, the scar left by all the losses and the pains he had gone through recently. Roy, Bizarro, Artemis. Maybe Jason had changed as well after all. Maybe there was no secret to stop time. But he didn’t let you ponder over this and gently pressed his lips on yours.

He needed that. He had thought about it all day and the truth was, you had too. You welcomed his kiss without hesitation or second thoughts and came to press your small body against his - which seemed so tall and strong in comparison to yours – to instinctively look for safety and protection. “I missed you, princess.” He whispered close to your mouth for a brief second before capturing your full lips with his again. “I missed you too.” You confessed, hands over his hard chest, feeling his heart beat loudly under your palms. Jason was holding you close now, his arms tightly circled around your form as if he was scared for you to leave, scared to be alone again. His fingers weaving in your hair, his head buried in the nape of your neck, he was pecking your delicate skin, smelling the sweet and heady perfume, glad it was exactly like the one he remembered. “Damn, Y/N. You’re still driving me crazy.” He murmured as he allowed his hands to slide in your coat and under your jumper to caress your bare back, awakening a cheekiness that you thought was long gone. “I tend to believe constancy is a quality.” You quoted him.

***

As soon as the door to your apartment slammed shut, your coat dropped to the floor and with hasty hands, Jason threw your beanie across the room, showing an excitement you had almost forgotten. It almost knocked an old crystal vase over but he couldn’t care less. He had waited long enough. Two years to be precise and he couldn’t wait a second longer. “Bedroom?” He asked between two hungry kisses that were making you almost suffocating against him. “ At the end of the corridor.” You whispered, already breathless, as you managed to finally get rid of his leather jacket. “Okay.” He suddenly grabbed you to hoist you up with incredible ease, hands under your ass, squeezing it on purpose. A lustful yet cheerful action that made you yelp in surprise. “I’m already making you scream? Perfect.” He declared with an amused smile as he rushed towards the bedroom, with you in his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist, his lips devouring yours. “Wrong door.” You said as he tried to open the bathroom. “Fuck.” You giggled and very soon your body finally bounced on your bed as it landed on the soft mattress.

You attempted to sit down to admire Jason but before you could do anything the hasty young man was already on top of you, right in between your legs, his lips already kissing your hot belly as his hands were slowly pulling up your jumper above your lace-covered breasts. That’s when your first moan finally escaped your mouth. “God. I missed that sound.” Jason mumbled against your shivering skin as he cupped and squeezed your round breasts. “Do it again.” He demanded, his tongue licking you up until it reached your cleavage. “Jason.” You moaned his name, feeling a very specific humid warmth forming in between your legs as you fingers were struggling to get rid of his green t-shirt. He cursed and knelt on the bed to take off your jumper that he carelessly tossed on the nightstand. It knocked the lamp and the radio alarm clock to the ground with a loud clinking noise. “Can you stop breaking my stuff?” You joked and he apologized with another amused bright smile. “I’m sorry, princess” “Are you? Show me how much.” You declared with an audacious confidence you hadn’t seen in a while. “Yes, ma’am.” Jason winked and immediately unbuttoned your jeans to pull them down along with your panties, revealing your wet and rosy womanhood begging for his attention. He sighed and took a deep breath when he saw it, glad to rediscover that little part of you. Slowly, his calloused fingers went to caress it, making you draw a sharp breath as your fingers tightened around the covers. You didn’t want him to tease you too long and you somewhat you know he wouldn’t. Not today. He was too excited and needy for that. And so were you in a way judging by the certain frustration that made you mewl when Jason’s expert finger slowly entered you while his thumb came to tickle your swollen clit. You wanted him now but you had to admit you had missed his fingers down there, the same way you had missed everything about him. Which reminded you there was something you had to do. “Let’s even the odds, shall we? I want to see how you handle such a sweet torture.” “Sweet torture?” He repeated with a cute chuckle as you unbuckled his leather belt. “How am I torturing you, Y/N?” You unzipped his black trousers and immediately plunged you hand in his underwear to gently grab his already hard cock, making Jason curse even more crudely than before. You chuckled and free his shaft from his boxers to jerk him off. He was as thick and long as you remembered. You bit your lower lip, impatient to feel him inside you. “Like what you see?” “Shut up.” You knelt on the mattress and immediately took his tip between your lips to suck it like a lollipop, enjoying the taste of his bitter pre-cum on your tongue and the sound of Jason’s sharp breath in your ears. “Damn it, princess.” He managed to say with half lidded eyes. You licked his penis with a grin before finally welcoming it in your mouth with a lustful moan. How much you had missed it. “You know. I think I get what you mean by sweet torture now.” Jason confessed as he weaved his fingers in your soft hair, torn apart by two ideas: one, let you continue your amazing blow job. Two, fuck you like he never did before. But you did not listen and started bobbing your head the way you knew he loved, taking his dick as deep as you could without gagging around him. “Fucking hell, Y/N” Jason groaned as he grabbed your head between his hands to accompany your pace. “You’re fucking amazing.” Then, his hand gently slapped your ass and he bent over to kiss it with a loving smile that was swallowed by another growl of his as his abs violently tensed with pleasure. “Alright, enough.” He pushed you flat on your back and placed himself between your legs again. He kissed your folds and licked your slit to wet it even more than it already was to finally lingered on your clit that he sucked eagerly, forcing a guttural crying moan out of your tightly sealed lips. Damn, that tongue! “I thought you said enough.” You complained, your voice as low as a whisper.

Jason chuckled and smiled brightly before he eventually knelt in between your spread thighs. “God, how gorgeous you are.” He declared as he tapped his hard cock against your reddened lips, a cheeky gesture whose sole purpose was to make you beg. You knew it. “You want this?” “Fuck, Jay.” You grumbled, moving your hips vigorously against his shaft, looking for a way to finally welcome it inside you. But Jason ignored your whim and bent over your body. “You want me?” His face was so close to yours you could feel his hot breath caressing your lips. “Yes.” You murmured. “I want you, Ja…” He did not let you finish your sentence and caught your lips with a burning eagerness, his hand around his cock guiding it inside you, making you moan in his mouth. “Fuck.” Jason growled between his gritted teeth as he felt himself slowly sinking inside of you. “I almost forgot you felt so tight.” “ I almost forgot you were so big.” You cleared your voice, an inexplicable mechanism to relax and allow his cock to fully enter and stretch you. “I know. Sorry.” He winced, adjusting his position on top of you to admire how beautiful you were around his penis and how perfect you pussy was for him. “Damn. I don’t know if I’ll last long, princess.” Jason admitted with a shiver and you cried out when he suddenly pulled out to push himself back inside of you with one long exquisite move. “That’s alright. We’ll do it again.”

Those last words made Jason grin in a way he had never done before as he was genuinely happy that you didn’t want this to be a one-time thing, a casual lay to remember the old good days. So he immediately took a nice pace that quickened after each new thrust and you let your hands caress his smooth chest from his strong pectorals down to his divine abs and the chiselled V below his navel, finding him simply handsome. Then you nudged his rear with your ankles, pressing his hips closer to yours to take him deeper inside of you, and started moaning his name again, a strong wave of pleasure forming in your core, ready to drown you. “Jay!” His mouth met your neck and sucked on the thin skin with ardour. “Are you gonna cum for me, princess?” That was too much to handle. “Yeah” You cried out, tears of bliss watering your eyes. “Cum for me then.” He didn’t have to say it twice. You dug your nails in his back and screamed loudly as your walls clenched around tightly his thick cock. “That’s it, princess.” He said as you kept calling his name on and on, sending him closer to a most awaited orgasm that he eventually reached and let explode in you under the shape of a loud growled “fuck” and beads of white seed right inside of you. “Y/N” Jason groaned between his gritted teeth as he thrust hard and deep in you for the last time, his sweaty forehead against yours. “Jay!” You shouted again while clawing at his back painfully enough to make him wince and hiss. Then he stopped moving, exhausted and breathless just like you, and watched you sink in the mattress trying to catch your breath. He caressed your hair as you both slowly came down from cloud nine. A kiss on your nose and he whispered. “You’re okay?” and in spite of the silliness of the question you nodded. “Never been better.”

Your lips found each other again and Jason let himself lie down on you, placing his head on your breasts, listening to your hearts pounding and to your loud ragged breaths. “I missed you.” He whispered and he held you body against his. “I missed you too.” You repeated as you planted a kiss in his wet dark hair. “Did you have to keep your jeans on?” The question escaped with a laugh and Jason chuckled. “You know me. Didn’t want to waste any time.” He managed to gather the little energy he had left to sit down and finally remove his trousers as he thought he would feel more comfortable without them. “Oops. I think I broke your clock.” He grimaced as he noticed you the broken device on the floor and the flickering numbers flashing up endlessly on the screen. “I don’t care.” You said as you pulled Jason back against you. “We’ve got all the time we need.”

#Jason Todd #red hood #jason todd x reader #fanfiction #one shot

204 notes · View notes

myeverythingisyourstruly · 4 years

Text

Willy x female reader

Warnings: language

The sun was scorching hot, the nectar-rich flowers were in full bloom, scattered with colorful butterflies, and school was out, which only meant one thing - summertime had officially begun.

You were on break from college and at home with your family. Although you liked being back home with your loved ones, you didn’t necessarily want to be around them all day, so you decided to get a summer job.

Your mom had informed you the community pool near your house was always looking for “helpers” so you went over to check it out.

The pool area was surprisingly deserted except for one person, a man, who was laying on one of the fold out chairs, scrolling through his phone.

He had black ray-bans on and didn’t seem to notice you approaching.

“Excuse me,” you said. “Are you hiring for the summer?”

“Oh shit,” he jumped in his seat and pulled off his sunglasses. “I didn’t see you there. Uhh, yeah, we are. What kind of experience do you have?”

“Um, well I’ve worked on campus before and-”

He laughed. “I’m just fucking with you, the job is yours if you want it.”

“Oh cool,” you smiled. “So what exactly would I be, like your assistant? I mean you are the manager right?”

“Yeah,” he sat up and stuck his hand out. “Willy.”

“Y/N” you accepted the handshake.

“By the way,” he stood up at his full height, and wow was he much taller than you realized. “You’re not an assistant, there’s no assistants around here, you’re just an employee of mine. Okay?”

“Got it.” you nodded. “So where is everyone?”

“The pool doesn’t open until 12.”

You checked your phone -- 11:32 AM

“Okay, well, I’ll just hang around until it’s time to work I guess.”

“Actually, I have something you can do.” Willy walked over to his small office space and you followed.

The place was a mess to say the least. There were papers scattered everywhere, blankets and a pillow thrown in the corner, and evident coffee stains plagued the desk.

Yuck.

“You can organize these papers for me and put them in the filing cabinet.” Willy picked up one of the papers and wiped the stickiness from the coffee on his shorts. “So this is for people who want to rent out lockers, you get their name and number and blah blah blah, you get it right?”

You nodded silently, stunned that he wasn’t phased by the filthiness you two were standing in. “So I’m supposed to do all of this by myself?”

“Yeah!” he exclaimed, a little too happily. “You seem like the over-achiever, perfectionist type so I’m sure you’ll do fine. Good luck.” he patted your shoulder and walked away.

“Jerk,” you muttered.

“What was that?” he turned around with a smirk.

“N-nothing.”

* * * *

After working at the pool for a few weeks, you were starting to wonder if the extra money was even worth it. You weren’t the only one who worked there but somehow you always ended up doing the majority of the work while everyone else sat back and chilled.

It was partially your own fault for putting up with it and you had an idea of how this job was going to be considering your first day. You had walked up and down the pool aisles, keeping an eye on all the children and their activities, while Willy, who was supposed to be the manager, was chatting with friends. He called you over and embarrassed you by saying, “You don’t need to monitor the kids so hard. Take the stick out of your ass and relax.” You turned away, trying to cover your blush as his friends cackled.

On the bright side of things, the children were well behaved for the most part and you didn’t have any problems with them. Although, there was that one kid that was caught humping the pool noodle.

You were pretty close to quitting until you started noticing a really hot guy appearing at the pool every other day with his little brother. He had beautiful blonde hair that shimmered in the sun and his body was the type of picture you’d hang up in your room as a poster to drool over. Truthfully, you felt he was way out of your league, but that didn’t stop you from flaunting around in your bathing suit, showing a little extra skin at times.

When you finally got the courage to speak with him, you found out his name was Jason and he was in college too. There were times when you even felt like he was flirting right back at you, which was a total surprise but you played it cool.

Today for example, you were talking to Jason about a band the two of you loved and he was hinting at taking you to one of their next concerts.

“They’re actually going on tour next month and I bet they’ll come here. Have you seen them live?”

“Oh my god, no, but I’d love to. Are you going?” you batted your eyelashes.

“Definitely, but there’s one problem though. I don’t have a date.” his eyes flicked down to your chest.

“You know, I’ll be here the rest of the summer and I would love to-”

Splat!

You gasped at the impact of a huge water balloon hitting the side of your face, drenching your entire chest, and the water was dripping down into your shorts.

Someone was attempting but completely failing to cover up their snickering. You looked up to see Willy covering his mouth as his shoulders bounced up and down.

“Holy shit,” he gasped, eliciting another breathy laugh. “I didn’t mean to hit your face like that, I swear.”

“That’s it.” You marched over to the bucket of water balloons and picked up a few before throwing them at Willy, who was running away to the other side.

You missed the first two times but on the third try you got him right in the crotch, which made it look like he pissed himself. Everyone laughed, including Willy, and soon some of the other kids joined in to completely soak their friends in water.

By the end of it, almost everyone was a mess. You looked around to see destroyed balloons all around the pool, some floating in the water as well, which was a funny sight. They looked like tattered colorful condoms.

Once the pool closed down for the day, It was time to start cleaning up but thankfully Willy stayed behind to help. You reflected on the water balloon fight and how it had all started, which made you walk over to Willy with a question in mind.

“Why did you throw that water balloon at me when I was talking to Jason?” You stood over him while he squatted to pick up pool toys, his back facing you.

“Cus’ I’m a jerk, remember?”

“Yeah, I know, but you could’ve struck at any time and yet you chose to do it when I was with Jason. Why?”

He sighed, stood up, and turned around to face you.

“Look, y/n, I know you like Jason but he’s a player. He does the same thing to a bunch of other girls.”

“And how would you know?” You asked with an attitude, crossing your arms.

Willy huffed out a laugh but there was no humor behind it. “Because I’ve seen him do it the past couple of summers. Trust me, he only wants to get in your pants.”

Willy walked away but you followed. It was petty, but you didn’t want him to have the last word.

“Why should I trust you?”

He stopped once again to look at you. “As much as I piss you off sometimes, I still don’t wanna see you get hurt. You don’t deserve that.”

You slowly uncrossed your arms, letting your defenses down. For some reason you did actually trust what Willy was saying but you didn’t exactly want him to know that.

“Well,” you sighed. “Thanks for telling me.”

“No problem,” he said with a sort of apologetic smile.

From that day on you avoided talking to Jason. You still remained cordial and would greet him if you two made eye contact but you kept it strictly platonic and didn’t make any moves to approach him. The sad part about it was Jason didn’t even seem to notice, and if he did, he just didn’t care enough to confront you about it.

It was your day to be on lifeguard duty. All the kids were screaming and laughing, having themselves a great time, until a loud cry broke through. You sprung off your chair to see a little boy had fallen on the concrete, scraping his knee in the process. Willy had made it to the kid before you did and was helping him to calm down.

“Hey, could you get the first aid kit out of my office?”

“Sure thing,” you rushed over to grab the kit and brought it back to Willy. You noticed the kid wasn’t crying anymore, but in fact was smiling.

You watched as Willy cleaned up the blood, disinfected the scrape, and patched him up with a cool Iron Man band-aid. Quite frankly, It was the cutest thing you’d ever seen him do.

Wait, since when do I find Willy cute?

The way he handled the situation was so sweet. You had never seen Willy be so attentive, calm, and confident. When he was done, he stood up and stretched, his shirt lifting just enough to see exposed skin. Your eyes glanced down, trailing the line of hair that led to his-

No. No. No. I’m not doing this.

You looked up to see Willy was already looking at you.

Crap.

“You okay?” He seemed to be genuinely concerned, which made you feel even more embarrassed.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

He shrugged. “Just asking.”

You didn’t really know how else to respond so you just awkwardly walked away, hoping he wasn’t watching you.

I do not like Willy. I definitely don’t have a crush on him. Nope, not this girl.

Your mind betrayed you that night when you dreamt of Willy going down on you.

You couldn’t make direct eye contact with him for the next two days.

The rest of the month was torture. It seemed like every little thing he did now was sexy and the worst part about it was he didn’t even realize the effect he had on you. It got so bad that your stomach would flip flop whenever he would grace you with a smile, which most times wasn’t even because of anything you said, but just seeing him smile over dumb shit was doing it for you.

It all came to a boil when the two of you were the last ones at the pool. It was evening time so the pool had long been closed, but you stuck around to clean up and Willy had mentioned a schedule change he wanted to go over with you.

“So since Summer is coming to an end we’re gonna open up the pool an hour earlier and I was thinking you could hmph-”

You connected your lips to his, fast and hard, as if there was an immediate need to release all of the pent up energy you had inside. The kiss was cut short when he gently pulled away from you.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m...kissing you?” You hated the way it came out sounding like a question instead of a statement.

“Yeah, no shit,” he laughed. “But why? I mean, what about Jason?”

“Jason is a player like you said,” you sighed. “And I don’t want to be with someone like that.”

Willy smirked. “So you admit I was right.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, I guess so.

“And now that Jason is out of the picture you think you like me?” he teased.

“Yes, I mean no! Ugh,” he was making this way harder for you and you didn’t know whether to be pissed or turned on. “I’ve liked you for a while now,” you admitted as a blush crept upon your cheeks. “You just didn’t notice.”

There was a gleam in his eyes. “I notice a lot more than you think I do.”

You blushed even harder.

“Listen,” you stepped a little closer to him. “I don’t want you to think you’re second to Jason, I really do like you. I mean I even had a sex dream about you!”

His eyebrows raised.

“I like you because even though you annoy the shit out of me, I still find myself laughing when I’m around you and you’re so great with the kids and you’re so cu-”

He leaned down to silence you, cupping your face with both hands.

“You talk too much,” he stated quietly.

“One of my many talents,” you joked, earning a smile in response.

“And fuck, I like you too. A lot.”

He dove back in to give you the kiss you had imagined the first time around, the kind that makes you feel a little dizzy, as if you’re floating in the air. Warmth spread through your belly like lava slowly seeping out of a volcano.

You sighed when he pulled back for room to breathe.

“What are we going to do when I go back to school?”

Smiling softly, he placed some of your hair behind your ear. “Don’t even worry about that, kid. We’ll figure it out.”

He leaned in, as if he were going to kiss you again, but dodged your lips to whisper in your ear. “So tell me more about that dream you had.”

@mediocre-megs @3tothe1 @fightingevilbymoonlight13 @damien-kaspbrak

#bill hader #willy mclean #the to do list #bill hader x reader #bill hader x you #fanfic

37 notes · View notes

cherrytart-ffxiv · 5 years

Text

taji’s tales.

Before anything else, I fell in love with her hands.

They were always cold, no matter how hot it was outside. And they were tiny. I often wondered how such small hands could accomplish so much. I remember the summer of the cycle she had turned sixteen, sitting on the porch of Wells’ family great big farm house and being spellbound by Audrey and her guitar. She played it with love. She could play anything, too. Name a song and she could play it for you, smiling the entire time. If she didn’t know it, all you had to do was tell her the chords. It would only take a minute for her to piece together and turn entirely into her own; elegant, and beautiful, meaningful.

I was enchanted by her hands, the way that her fingers moved over the strings with ease, without so much as a second thought as to placement, the way they made the instrument sing even when the strings were worn and needed replacing. She had a gift. Musically, Audrey had always been brilliant. I was just a humble fan, someone she’d play for on long summer nights when lightning bugs sparked and the waves lapped against the shore and the moon shone bright on the fields. I’d close my eyes and go somewhere else, for a little while, her sweet voice flowing out from between her lips as she swayed on the porch, one leg up close to her, the other on a lower step.

I fell in love with her voice second. It was perfect. She needed no formal training; Audrey sang like an angel without even trying. There was emotion behind every syllable, and she could drop a note and leave it there. She was decisive, and she was skilled, knowing just how to draw out or cut her words to leave you hanging on to every one. And we’d watch, her little audience, as her slender fingers moved rapidly to strum out chords and notes, as that beautiful voice wove us stories about great loves and sad passings and of places far away from where we sat, by the seaside.

Sometimes the songs were sad, sometimes they were happy and bright, sometimes they made you want to get up and dance - and we did, laughing as we spun around the front yard of that big farmhouse, and she’d smile, bobbing her head to the boys playing barrels and buckets as drums to her guitar. She’d smack against the wood to provide the beat, tap her foot, as ribbons of black hair fluttered in the breeze. Those were blissful days. Those were the days I never wanted to end. Everything in the world be damned but Audrey and her instruments, because who were we to have other business when a divine being sat before us? And I think that was the summer I knew - I knew, and learned, that I loved more than just her hands and her voice. I loved the girl.

I don’t think she ever loved me beyond a best friend, a big brother where Connor had failed her. That was okay. I didn’t need to make her mine. I just needed to be around her. I needed to hear her eternally loud laugh, adorable and infectious. Even if nothing was funny, if she was laughing, she had everyone around her in stitches. Audrey glowed. She was the life of every party and the apple of every eye. White cotton dresses and a sheet of shining black hair, with big eyes that were alight with intelligence and gentleness both, with a fair complexion that looked like glass with natural pink hues staining her cheeks and lips. Yes, she was beautiful; she was ethereally, otherworldly beautiful, with a body that left us all weak in the knees when she danced - and kami preserve, when she danced. If her voice was an instrument, her body was an orchestra. I could have watched the way she moved, effortlessly, joy in every motion, elegant or seductive or both or somewhere in between.

I could sing praises about Audrey’s beauty and talents for years. She was strong, and whip smart. She observed the world quietly and knew a hundred times more than she ever let on. Her convictions, her sense of right and wrong, her deep compassion and sense of justice in an unjust world - what was a puppy dog eyed boy to do? I had seen the horrors inflicted by the yakuza my father worked at the head of. I had held a gun, by that age, to the head of a weeping man. My hands didn’t deserve the summertime warmth of Audrey. That did not stop them from craving it, from me wanting to be wrapped in her golden glow and to sink it, disappear in it. Sure, she could kick my ass, but she never did. Audrey, then, was gentle. She was soft. I was blind to the anger growing in her. I was blind to the injustices she was experiencing. I don’t know if I can ever repent enough for being so blinded by her brilliance that I didn’t see it was an act so that no one would see the cracks in her armor.

Three cycles later, when I came back from Kugane and she didn’t recognize me, I couldn’t blame her. If it hadn’t been for her eyes, for the beauty mark at the bottom of the left one, I might not have recognized her, either. That golden piece of summertime had changed. Her hip length hair had been cut short, up to her chin, bleached of its natural raven hue and dyed a bright pink that screeched for her to be noticed. A girl that had lived her life naturally and comfortably was done up in glittery makeup and tight fitting mini skirts, blouses with plunging necklines and bared midriffs. It would have been fine if I thought it was her choice. But I knew about “Cherry.” My father has warned me before I went back to Eorzea, about what had become of Audrey. They had eyes everywhere.

Trafficked. Controlled by an obsessive pimp. Audrey was skin and bones when I saw her again. Her collarbones were so pronounced that one could collect water in each of them. She was frail, thin, her big eyes exhausted and marked by dark circles beneath them. A bruise - dark and angry - marked her jaw as she moved slowly into my mother’s shop. She looked right at me and didn’t recognize me. But she smiled at me. I saw the dimples in her cheeks. I was weak. I took the bait she offered. I took her into my bed and I didn’t tell her who I was. Covered in tattoos and scars, I suppose I looked worlds different, too.

There is no atoning for my weakness. There is no redemption for making love to Audrey when I knew who she was and she didn’t know me. I am disgusting. I am no better than any other man who has touched her because they just wanted to. Teenage fantasies ran away with me. I held her hands. They were still cold. Tiny. Soft. The callouses from her guitar were gone. I almost burst into tears when I felt how smooth they were. She hadn’t been playing. She hadn’t been playing for a very long time. What had Ul’dah done to her? What had her pimp done to her? Why hadn’t Connor been protecting her?

I remember her running to the apothecary shop, sandles in one hand while the scarf she made out of her mother’s cardigan hung around her neck. She stopped short when she saw me, eyes wide. She spoke my name. My name. It sounded like a breathless song on her tongue. All at once, it seemed, she remembered me. She remembered me, just as I was about to set sail for Kugane again. I brought her inside. We split an order of curry while her leg bounced nervously, eyes flickering nonstop towards the door I had locked behind us. How many pairs of eyes were watching her at any given moment? Including those from Kugane, from Doma... The bruise on her jaw was still there. I figured she was right to be worried. Anger roared on me, that anyone would put hands on her. That they would succeed. The Audrey I knew...

The Audrey I knew was stuck. She was trapped. She still flared in that little body, but she was muted. A summertime glow, spinning cherry blossom petals, fresh cherries on her tongue as she laughed - I could tell these were all distant memories for her. More distant for her than for me. And it was with desperation that I asked her to come with me to Kugane. We would protect her. She looked at me with such a sad smile, with a shake of her head that shifted her neon pink hair, as her fork shifted rice around on her plate. She had done a lot of that; shifting her food, but not eating it.

“I can’t. There’s too much debt here. Someone will get hurt if I leave, and I can’t even tell you who. But someone would pay for me disobeying. And I can’t live with that... Taji.”

The next day, I had to get on a ship and leave the first - the only - person I had ever loved behind, in one of the worst situations you could place a person in. It felt wrong. It all felt wrong, and foul, and vile. No one should look like that at nineteen, I thought. No girl her age should have eyes so ancient and exhausted. I cursed myself for leaving. I cursed myself for listening to my own orders. And I curse myself every day that I didn’t insist that she come. But what would it have fixed? Another man, telling her what to do, where to go...

Reports come in about her. Mori knows about her. Our people are watching, but to what end? She doesn’t even know her full heritage. Of course, clever girl has her suspicions, but that’s all. She’s got nothing to work off of other than some hunches. Still... Still, if there’s anything that I believe in, it’s Audrey’s brain. Audrey’s determination. Audrey’s stubbornness. Her unwavering resolve and the way she grits her teeth in the face of adversity, only to bloom from it. She grows through mud. She always has. And she has always come out more beautiful and more brilliant at the end of it.

I’m on a boat back to Eorzea as I write this. Back to Ul’dah. Back to... her. Mom needs my help in the shop. I need to see if any of the life has come back to Audrey’s eyes. I missed her twentieth nameday. She never liked celebrating them. I wonder if she celebrated this one. I wonder if she has people who love her, care for her. I want to know. I want to see her. I want make sure... I don’t know. I won’t know for sure what I’m looking for until I get there. Maybe it’s just her face. Maybe it’s her laugh. Maybe I’m hoping she’s dusted off her guitar and started to play again, that she’s found a reason to. No, she may not be mine. But whether I am a lover or a friend or a brother, I love Audrey Wells. That much will never change. No matter what.

#written on mobile so sorry for weird formatting #anyway #drops my self indulgent BS on you all #thanks for reading #3am writes #writing #ffxiv rp

3 notes · View notes

nyxocity · 6 years

Text

It begins with fire and a promise, with blood and love deeper than bones.

It begins with fumbling hope and fractured dreams.

It begins with ending, with bitterness and goodbye.

Sam isn’t sure how old he is the first time he feels it.

In school he learned about the unseen pull of the moon, the tug of gravity against his skin, the attraction of the planets to the sun, and sometimes he thinks this feeling is like all of those things at once.

He learned about right and wrong, too, “should” and “shouldn’t”, “supposed to” and “never”, and this is all of those things, too, and none of them.

He just knows it makes the hollow ache in his chest go away, the feeling left behind by all these motel rooms and towns that fade away in the rear view mirror.

He just knows there’s always been Dean and there’s never been anything else.

He is seventeen the first time he kisses his brother’s mouth, taste of salt and sweat, smell of engine grease and scrape of denim.

His brother in his arms, taste in his mouth, blood in his blood. Dean in his arms, and it’s nothing like everything he thought he it would be. Warm, safe, loved, and he is still alone. Hand on heart, hands on skin, and still he aches, wishing for impossible things.

It’s not enough for him. For either of them.

His kisses turn hard, fingers clutching and cruel. Demanding more, taking harder, faster. Some nights he urges Dean to fuck him until the sheets are sweat slick and he is boneless, useless, belly covered in come and body sheathed in heat.

There’s something missing, something lacking. Something in the way. A nameless, formless thing that taunts him in the night, pulls him from his dreams to the window, staring at the silent streets below to where they disappear against the horizon.

Sam feels broken and he wants Dean to put him back together--but Sam just keeps cutting him, over and over and over, like he doesn't know how to do anything else, and Jesus. Dean just takes it on the chin, arms wide, smile bright, takes it all in and buries it deep and Sam doesn’t know where he keeps it, but sometimes, when Dean’s deep inside him, Sam hears him make this tiny, broken sound and he thinks “yes, that”, except it isn’t, not really. It’s just a moment, a taste and a touch, and Sam will never really know what his brother carries with him. If he bears the cross of this sin, its shape and weight burned into his soul, as inseparable him as from the tenderness of his touch, the slow, wicked thrust of his hips, and the terrifying depth of his love.

Dean would sooner die than ever let Sam know.

And Dean wants Sam, but Sam thinks maybe Dean needs more, and for the first time, Sam thinks maybe he does, too.

Everywhere they go, all around them, smiling boys and girls with lives and homes and schools, holding hands and dreaming futures, and Sam wants to spin into orbit with them, not around them. Summertime, always summertime when this ache throbs in his chest, a hidden road winding down into fall and possibility, where hope lies quietly waiting.

There are things he’d like to do, but Dean will never see them, never understand. Sam can’t make sense of them all, can’t qualify or quantify them all, their meaning escaping the trappings of words.

Sam asks Dean questions that Dean can’t answer, words lodged in his brother’s throat, faraway sadness in his eyes. And Sam thinks later that maybe Dean always understood a lot more a lot sooner than Sam ever did.

He leaves on a clear, crisp morning in late August, pack in his hand and feet on the road. John’s voice echoes in his ears, angry and harsh, and he blinks back salt against the daylight. Thoughts in California, heart in his throat, he freezes when he hears the roar of the engine behind him. Turns guilty eyes to meet Dean’s and not a word is spoken but Sam can feel it all right there, hanging in the crisp air between them; broken promise on the edge of fall. Eyes to soul and Sam gets in the car, puts his bag on his lap and his brother drives him to the bus station.

They never do say goodbye.

He feels Dean’s eyes boring into his back long after the bus leaves the terminal.

The city falls flatter, paler and colder than Sam had thought it would, somehow empty without his brother’s voice echoing in his ears. Empty bed, empty room, taste of salt, taste of pain, and he’d thought it would all be bigger somehow, that it would absolve him, vindicate him. But it’s just a city, like any other city Sam’s ever been to.

He holds the phone in his hand to sleep, curled and cold upon the bed. His finger twitches against the button with need so aching it stretches him thin inside.

Days are classes, lectures and classrooms and pen to paper, tactile and real, something he can hold onto. Nights don’t bear thinking about.

When he meets her, she is everything he might ever have imagined he’d wanted, if he’d ever stopped long enough to imagine. There’ve only been two girls before her, hot skin and shivering thighs that he’d slid his face between, sunk himself deep inside. When he fucks her for the first time, she whispers his name and strokes his hair, brushes away his tears and tells him it’s going to be okay, and he falls a little in love with her.

The first time she asks who Dean is, he jumps inside his skin, meets her eyes with a guilty jerk. He doesn’t ask her how she heard it, knows she already knows more than she wants to just by the tone in her honeyed voice. She sleeps by his side every night and every night his dreams are still steeped in the scent of his brother, color-taste-texture essence of Dean. What a simple thing it must have been, for that single syllable that’s always meant more than anything else ever has to fall from his lips on the cusp of sleep.

When he tells her, her eyes stutter, fall confused from his, and there’s a moment, one eternally stretching moment where he feels her start to slide—and then she smiles, big and bright, kisses him softly like forgiveness, and pulls him down into bed with her.

He loves her. God help him. He does.

Let it be enough.

The Impala hums through his bones and sings in his blood just like it has for more than half his life, and Stanford is a hazy, distant memory on the road behind them. Sometimes, in the moments between waking and dreaming, he gets confused, thinks he imagined it all.

Dean stares at him like a ghost from the drivers seat, eyes filled with something like sadness, but the words don’t come. The years have grown between them, lifted and divided them, sent them crashing to the shore tumbling like waves and left them here, breaking against the sand. Without their hands, mouths, skin, sweat to speak for them, the wind whistles by, wrapping around the car and through Sam’s mind.

Quiet. It’s too quiet.

He can still smell her burning.

It begins with fire and a promise, with blood and love deeper than bones.

It begins with a knife to the back, a promise, and a deal sealed with a kiss.

It begins somewhere far beyond where love should end.

Slow tentative kisses, hands fisted in Dean’s hair, pulling him deeper, closer and more, more, more, not enough skin, not enough heart, not enough love in the scars between them.

One year. Dean has one year left to live, and Sam knows he can be more than this. More than these broken, jagged pieces of boy that cut when he reaches for Dean.

One year and it’s now or never, everything to give and nothing left to lose.

They stretch and strain against the leather seats of the Impala, against the scratch of cheap sheets, against the rough burn of carpet. They tattoo a rhythm with rocking hips and deep thrusts, eyes locked and hands interlaced, slow, lingering kisses sweeter and more necessary than air to a drowning man.

And it’s good. Better than good. It’s everything he always knew he wanted and everything they’ve been afraid to let themselves have. And it’s funny and it’s sad that it took this to bring them together in just the right way.

Sand through glass, time slips away. And staring death in the face every day never did it, never made them pause, but now that it creeps in day by day on little cats feet, with dwindling minutes and hours, it finally seems real.

Sam doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry that it’s the first time either of them has truly felt alive.

They don’t talk about it. It’s there between them and they both know, but they never do talk about it, Sam too afraid and Dean too resigned, both of them wanting anything besides sorrow.

The days slip by and winter turns to spring. In three months Dean will be gone. Three months, no less, no more, and Sam is no closer to finding an answer than he was last summer when he fell into his brothers arms and kissed him again for the very first time.

He understands now that Dean never needed more. It was always Sam that needed more, and Dean never could deny Sam anything he wanted. Now all Sam wants is for Dean to stay, to be here by his side, fighting and fucking, hunting and living.

It’s the one thing Dean can’t give him.

Curled in bed with their bodies pressed together, sweaty and soiled and sated, Sam rolls over, presses his brother gently into the bed and climbs up on Dean’s chest. Stares deep into mystifying green he knows better than he knows anything else in this world and will never completely understand. Fingers curl and catch; in the tangle of his brother’s hair, clutching against the hollow of his throat, and he looks long and deep, willing his brother to open, to break, to speak, anything.

“Dean. Do you ever—“ there’s a hitch in his voice and it breaks, leaving him unable to go on.

And Dean just presses Sam’s head down against Dean’s chest to where he can hear his brother’s heart beat.

“No.”

Whispers almost inaudible, smile tangled in the ragged, emotional edge.

“Never.”

Twenty eight days, six hundred and seventy two hours, forty thousand three hundred and twenty minutes.

They stand at the lip of the Grand Canyon, wind and dust in their hair and eyes, and it’s all worth it for that smile on Dean’s face.

And he thought it would feel like an ending, but he’s starting to believe there’s no such thing as an ending between the two of them.

Even if he has to go fighting down into Hell armed with nothing but love to bring Dean back.

It begins with ending, with tears and goodbye.

It begins with death and a promise, love and blood deeper than bones.

And it never does stop.

#wincest #sam winchester #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #epic love story #wincest fic #my stories #the plans i make still have you in them #originally posted on LiveJournal #spn

147 notes · View notes