all over tees

Line Repair

This is for @cerusee and I do not apologize at all for the lack of angst.

Bruce Wayne & Jason Todd father/son bonding. Gen, a Tiny Bit of Strong Language

The air was deceptively cool, a lazy breeze drifting up from the river the highway ran alongside. The sun was pleasantly warm at first and only gradually turned to hot. Jason Todd knew there was a long line of mature trees only fifteen feet away that he could seek shelter under, that might even be sort of wonderful if he had a lunch and a book, but he had a hard time walking away from problems.

His current problem was something under the hood of the non-descript Audi he’d borrowed from the Manor. And he had actually borrowed it for once, at Alfred’s urging. It was a slightly older and trusted car from the massive garage, and when he’d mentioned as a slight warning that he’d been itching to get out of the city for a bit– a warning he felt he owed Alfred at this point, if no one else– it hadn’t taken much from the older man to convince him to just borrow the car.

Because it was Alfred.

Now, if there was any consolation at all to be found in bending over the now-cooled but previously smoking engine, getting dust and grease all over his worn tee, it was that at least it had happened to him and not Alfred, somewhere in the middle of Gotham.

He had been tinkering around for thirty minutes, coming to the reluctant conclusion that it was the oil line and he didn’t have the tools and was going to have to hitchhike or walk the couple of miles toward the nearest help and then deal with the car itself instead of going further from the city and the life there he just needed a break from.

Nothing spectacular had happened to drive him away– no case gone wrong, no pile of bodies, no bitter injury or trauma or anniversary. But the city itself sometimes grew too big, too heavy on his heart and mind, and he just needed space even if he knew he’d run back within days or weeks.

Jason wiped sweat off his forehead and stepped back from the car and sighed.

That was when the other car approached, the rumble of its engine preceding it on the quiet road. He leaned back over the open hood and made a show of being engrossed in the components there, while keeping an eye on the road to see what would show up. The car passed him, already slowing, and pulled to a stop on the graveled shoulder just a couple of yards ahead.

Jason tensed. The road was quiet enough that any concerned passerby would likely slow on the blacktop and roll down a window, offer help. Maybe it was a cop. The car was unmarked but black.

He stood, wiping his hands on his already ruined shirt, and plastered a warm smile on his face. He turned and froze.

Bruce climbed out of the other car.

“The fuck,” Jason exclaimed, his smile falling.

“Hello to you, too,” Bruce replied mildly.

“I didn’t steal it,” Jason spat out. “Alfred told me to take it.”

Bruce ducked back into the car he’d emerged from and when he straightened, taking a deep breath of the fresh air, he was holding a paper sack of food and a cardboard drink carrier.

“I know,” Bruce said. “He told me.”

And maybe it was the ingrained paranoia, the fine family tradition of subterfuge, or just the tiny (and mildly glorious) sense of knowing someone else so well, but comprehension hit Jason like a thunderclap.

“He knew,” Jason gasped. And it irked him that it was Alfred and that he couldn’t cuss him out, even absent, without feeling about a hundred times as guilty as he would with anyone else.

“That the line had a slow leak?” Bruce asked, walking toward him. Whatever he had in the bags smelled amazing and it was about an hour past lunch. Jason had decided to push ahead to the next small town, eager for the miles between him and Gotham, and then had been forced to pull over in the middle of nowhere. Bruce held out the bag. “He did.”

They might not have the smoothest relationship, but it was Bruce out of the suit and it was a bag of food and even if Jason’s stomach hadn’t grumbled, he would have taken it. He peered inside.

“Are these pepperjack chicken sandwiches?” Jason asked, incredulous.

“And tea,” Bruce answered, lifting the drink carrier slightly. He looked a little apologetic, a worried frown around his eyes. “I didn’t think Gotham chili dogs would stay hot for the drive. But there’s a Wendall’s just ten miles back, the last one going west.”

Jason leaned against the bumper of the car and then cast a glance toward the shaded bank. He was still watching the trees and not Bruce when he asked, “You really drove three hours to catch up with me?”

“I did,” Bruce said. He reached out and bent the sack toward himself. Jason let it happen. Bruce pulled one of the sandwiches out. There were boxes of shoestring fries underneath. “I brought tools. And a new line. A drain pan and a few quarts of oil. But let’s eat first.”

“Okay,” Jason said faintly, looking into the bag again. He took off, long strides carrying him toward the trees and the river bank. It didn’t smell like trash and sewage out here. “But I’m not gonna bake while I eat,” he called, without turning. He left the words making it to Bruce on the whim of the wind.

Whether or not Bruce heard clearly, he followed and sat down next to Jason on the grass. They sat shoulder to shoulder, with enough space between them that Bruce set the drink carrier down.

“How early did Al wake you up?” Jason asked, glancing over at Bruce’s pale face in the sunlight. He hadn’t bothered with any of his usual makeup to hide the dark circles or the days-old bruise on his cheek, the stuff he wore for work. It reminded Jason of days when they had breakfast together at the gigantic dining room table, before getting ready for the world outside the Manor.

“He let me sleep a whole two hours,” Bruce said, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “It was supposed to be my day off.”

“Sorry,” Jason grumbled, which was hard to do around a mouthful of chicken sandwich.

“I’m not,” Bruce said. “We’re not good at lunch dates.”

Jason choked when his surprised and bitter laugh interrupted swallowing. Bruce reached out a hand, hesitated, and then clapped him on the back anyway. Jason sucked down tea to chase away the lingering itch in his throat. “No,” he said when he’d recovered. “No, we aren’t. Midnight snacks are more our thing now.”

“I think that’s my fault,” Bruce admitted, taking his own tea.

“I dunno,” Jason said, taking another bite. He knew he hadn’t exactly made himself easy to get along with or seek out.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, eating, then Bruce brushed his hands against each other and swapped his crumpled sandwich wrapper for a box of shoestring fries.

“Anyway,” he said, letting the quiet draw out again. “I’m not angry Alfred set us up. This is nice.”

“It is,” Jason agreed, with only a little reluctance. “Figures Al would figure out how to make it happen.”

“Where are you headed?” Bruce asked, gesturing with a slight motion of his shoulder toward the Audi.

“Haven’t decided,” Jason said, slurping tea from the crowded ice in the cup. “Just wherever, I guess.”

“We’ll fix the line and you can go find out,” Bruce said. “Need anything else?”

“No,” Jason said, feeling as calm as the river looked. It was nice, to sit and munch on fries and talk without shadows looming over them, without the weak glow of street lamps or the halogen bulbs in the cave. “I’ll be good. Thanks.”

“Send me a postcard,” Bruce said. “So I know where you end up.”

And even though it was just an escape, a tiny vacation from his usual life, Jason was reassured by the implication: I care but I’m not tracking you.

It was a comforting feeling, the freedom and the connection.

“Sure,” Jason said. “How are you doing?”

Bruce looked over at him, a long and steady look, and when Jason tore his eyes away to stare at the river again instead, Bruce sighed.

“I’m worn out. I need a vacation soon, too. Alfred keeps dropping hints. Maybe Iceland.”

For the first half of the minute that followed, Jason was tempted to say something joking or disparaging but he struggled to come up with something that satisfied the impulse. There was another delay as he realized the difficulty was rooted in the lack of any sour emotion to spur it. “You should go,” he finally settled on saying.

He could feel Bruce studying him, probably with that unrelenting and undaunted expression he often had while figuring out a problem or gathering information.

“I think I will,” Bruce said, exhaling softly. Jason turned to him and tried to grin, but he knew it came off as more genuine and less rakish than he’d meant for it to.

“You gonna eat those fries?” Jason asked, leaning over to look into the box Bruce was holding but not doing anything else with.

“No,” Bruce said, holding them out. “Want them?”

“Hell yes,” Jason said, accepting the box. “Only you’d waste good fries.”

“Want me to start on the oil line?” Bruce offered, beginning to stand.

“Nah,” Jason said. “We can do it together. Don’t rush me. Some of us actually learned how to savor food when Alfred taught us, instead of eating like machines.”

Bruce chuckled and leaned back on the grass instead of rising. “Alright.”

The French fries were crisp and salty and Jason alternated chewing them and sucking watery, frigid tea through the red and white striped straw. The river lapped softly at the baked mud bank beneath them and wind tumbled through the treetops overhead.

“I’m done,” he announced, more than five minutes after actually finishing the fries.

“Hn,” Bruce answered, sounding far from fully awake.

Jason stretched out in the grass and put a boot on the bag of trash so it wouldn’t blow away.

“If I wake up covered in bug bites, it’s your fault,” he said, closing his eyes. The sunlight that filtered through the canopy was just enough to keep away an actual chill.

“Hn,” Bruce said again. “We should lock the cars.”

“You do it,” Jason said. “If you’re so freaking paranoid.”

There were two clicks of automatic locks from near the road. Jason felt his pocket but the keys were still there and it just figured Bruce would have another set, but he kind of didn’t care.

It over an hour before either of them moved again.

late night fights

a/n: so so sorry for the long wait to the lovely anon who requested a Nate imagine. Hope you like it, I tried to follow your request as close as possible, just know I worked on this for like 3 days, constantly rewriting, so sorry if you still don’t like it, but I put lots of work into it, so please enjoy


I was currently in the kitchen, making dinner for my boyfriend, Nate. I met Nate 3 and a half years ago at a Future concert. I could barely see anything over the guy that towered in front of me, and someone behind me drunkenly ran into me, shoving me into him.

He turned around with this angry look on his face, but it softened when he saw me. Despite his change in attitude I was still freaking out, blame it on my generous, caring nature, so I immediately started to apologize.

We started talking a bit, and he let me stand in front of him so I could see. After the concert we went out for drinks, and we just really hit it off. 6 months later he asked me to be his girlfriend, and here we are. 3 years later, happy as can be.

Nate and Swazz were currently at the studio. Nate’s been spending a lot of time there lately. Leaving as soon as he wakes up, and getting home at like 3 in the morning. I was pretty worried, despite being together for 3 years, there was always these gorgeous girls throwing themselves at him, and I couldn’t help but feel like he would dump me for them, cause well, I’m just plain ordinary me. Nothing special, and definitely don’t look like those girls.

But, Nate promised to come home for dinner tonight at 8, so here I was, getting things ready at 7:30.

At 8, I had everything finished, and I was dressed in some black ripped jeans and a white pocket tee. I busied yourself until Nate got home, throwing in a load of his laundry, cleaning up a bit in the living room. I laid down on the couch, watching tv, waiting for Nate to come home.

I woke up at 9:30, and Nate still wasn’t home. I was so over it at this point. I put the food away and went up to our room and changed into some leggings and a big tee shirt.

I threw my hair up in a messy bun, took off my make up. I was just lounging around, waiting for Nate to get home. I was constantly checking my phone, and saw that Nate was tweeting, posting pictures on insta, liking pictures on insta and his snapchat was full of pics and videos of him and the boys and then some with him and Stass, and Emily.

I finally decided to just go to bed, giving up on waiting for him to come home. By now it was 3 in the morning, so I figured he wasn’t coming home.

I woke up the next morning at like 7 am to a loud crashing noise downstairs. All to familiar with the sound I walked down to see Nate stumbling in. I stood on the stairs as Nate closed the door and went over and sat on the couch.

“another late night?” I asked from the stairs, Nate not even turning to look at me.

“don’t start with this shit right now (y/n).” he groaned.

“start with what Nate? I was just asking.” I said, with obvious sarcasm.

“I don’t wanna talk about this right now. Please get me some asprin.”

“If we don’t talk about this now Nate, when are we going to?” and finally he turned and looked at me. He looked like hell.

“(y/n) what do you possibly have to say that I haven’t already heard? Now get me some damn asprin.” He said, turning back around.

“get your own damn asprin Nate. I’m sick and tired of this. I never see you, and when we do see each other all we do is fight.” I threw my hands up. He got up off the couch and turned to look at me, clearly feeling hungover as he swayed a bit.

“have you thought maybe I spend all my time at the studio or out with the guys to avoid you? Your constant bitching and complaining. 90% of our fights are because of you. Your fucking insecurities drive me up a fucking wall. I can’t hang out with the boys without you freaking out about a girl that’s there? Like you don’t fucking trust me? Well I don’t wanna be with someone who doesn’t fucking trust me.” He yelled.

Taken aback by his response I was left shocked, but quickly spoke my mind.

“damn straight I don’t trust you” I lied, just so pissed at his accusation, and the fact he wouldn’t wanna be with me over some petty shit like that. “You think I wanna be with someone who’s constantly out fucking around? Do you even do anything besides smoke weed and drink with the guys? When was the last time you even released a new song? Or even recorded one? I don’t wanna be with someone who clearly doesn’t even wanna be in a relationship.” I screamed.

“well you know where the fucking door is.” He yelled, shocking both of us I think. I know I was shocked, and when his eyes went wide with the realization of what he said, I think he was just as shocked as I was. I bit my lip and started shaking my head as I ran upstairs into our room, ignoring Nate calling my name.

I grabbed a backpack and just started throwing random shit in it. A bra and like two extra pairs of panties. Like 3 shirts, 2 pair of leggings, socks, a pair of shorts. I tossed my charger in the bag and grabbed my purse with my keys and money and opened the bedroom door and headed downstairs.

Nate was walking out of the kitchen, tossing some asprin in his mouth as I reached the bottom step. I started heading towards the door but he called out, making me stop and turn around.

“what are you doing?” he asked.

“clearly this isn’t working anymore Nate, so I’m doing both of us a favor and leaving.” I spoke, turning back around and pulling open the door. “bye Nate.” I said, as I closed the door behind me.

I got in my car and started it, and saw Nate pull open the front door, looking at me as I backed out of the driveway. I immediately called Swazz, knowing he would help me. On the phone I explained what happened and he immediately offered me his guest bedroom. I told him I’d be over soon and hung up.

Swazz and I had been friends for as long as I had known Nate. We became so close that the first 6 months of my relationship with Nate, whenever everyone would go out, everyone would assume Swazz and I were dating. And Nate did have his suspicions of us having a thing, but he was just too much of an older brother.

Swazz let me in and it was when I saw him and he asked what happened that I finally broke down. I started bawling my eyes out, and Swazz let me cry all over his tee. He was always so helpful in my relationship with Nate, always offering advice when something was bothering me.

I eventually fell asleep, needing some rest. I woke up at around 4 pm, and walked down the hall. I heard Swazz on the phone.

Yeah man, she’s here.

No I wouldn’t do that. You two both need some time to calm down and just think about things.

Okay, you know I will.

And then he hung up. Judging by the conversation, it was no doubt Nate. Swazz and I sat around and watched some movies, but at around 8 he let me take a shower, knowing that always calms me down, and he let me borrow one of his shirts, knowing I was so used to wearing Nate’s big ones. Once I was done, despite taking a nap, I went to bed right afterwards.

The next morning I woke up and decided to check my phone to see if Nate had tried to contact me. The second I unlocked my phone, my notifications were blowing up. Twitter was going crazy, so I checked to see a bunch of screenshots of Nate out again last night. Pictures of him and Stass everywhere.

Then there was a video, from snapchat, so obviously it was on is story if fans were able to save it and tweet it. It was him and Stass out at a club. Yeah, her giving him a lap dance hurt like a bitch. But what killed was the next part, where they’re literally sitting there making out.

That was when my world shattered. 3 years and the same day we break up he’s already out with another girl. So aggravated I screamed and threw my phone at the wall. Swazz came in and his face softened when he saw me. I looked up at him and broke down.

“why” I broke down, but Swazz came and sat on bed with me, holding me in his arms as I had another break down. Again Swazz stopped me from having another panic attack, and just let me lay in bed for the day. Around 7 I decided, if he was out living up the single life, then I would too.

I don’t pay hundreds of dollars to be wasting it with my tears over some fucker. No, I deserved to go out and have the time of my life, like any other single girl would do. So I said fuck it and decided I was going out tonight.

I dressed in black ripped skinny jeans and a plain white vneck, throwing on a leather jacket and finishing the outfit with a pair of black bootie wedges. I also curled my hair, and did my make up really nice. When Swazz saw me he kinda smiled.

“feeling better?” he asked.

“yeah, I’m just gonna go out for a bit.”

“alright, you have your key?”

“yeah, I’ll see ya”

And with that I was out the door. I found an uber and found myself at a little club. Immediately walking up to the bar and ordering 2 shots, downing them both almost immediately. I got a mixed drink and turned and looked at the dancefloor.

Some like 40 year old guy came up to me and started to hit on me. He asked me to dance with him, but I kindly declined. But he didn’t give up. He reached out and grabbed my wrist, trying to pull me out, but I fought a bit. Suddenly another hand was around my waist and my thoughts were ‘I’m going to die, they’re going to rape me and kill me.’ But I was wrong.

“hey bud, mind letting go of my girl?” the guy next to me spoke, his voice low and smooth. I turned and looked at him. He was tall and hot as hell, looked my age, maybe a year or two older. Kinda long shaggy hair, but it was quiffed up a bit. And his smile, god his smile.

“oh this is your girl?” the 40 year old asked.

“yeah, and I’d appreciate if you would get your hands off her and leave her alone.”

“she’s a prude anyway.” The older guy scoffed and walked away.

I turned and looked up at the guy with his arm still around me, resting on my waist, a little lower and closer to my butt.

“thank you.” I smiled.

“hey anything for a pretty girl.” He smiled. “I’m Derek.”


And the rest of the night, we hung out. We sat at the bar, and got drink after drink. He had his hand constantly on me, somehow, someway, and always very sensual. Like, he would rub up and down my thigh, or take my hand. We were very very flirty all night, sexual tension obvious between us.

“hey, uh don’t look now, but that creep from earlier is looking over here.” Derek whispered in my ear, pulling back slightly and looking at me. I bit my lip and smiled.

“let’s give him something to look at then.”

And Derek, reading my mind, caressed my cheek with one hand, the other resting on my thigh, as my hand held onto his arm, and the other resting on his shoulder as our lips met.

What started as a sweet innocent kiss, turned heated fast and suddenly our tongues were fighting for dominance. I pulled back to catch my breath and Derek smiled at me.

“you wanna get outta here?”

And in that moment I thought about Nate. I still cared about him, but he no doubt fucked Stass after that video, and they say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.

“yes.” I said breathlessly.

Next thing I know, me and Derek are walking out of the club hand in hand. He called an uber and the second we were in and he told them his address, we were both all over each other.

We stumbled into his place, sloppily making out, neither of us caring how many pieces of furniture we ran into. First it was the side table, then the back of the couch, then the tv, then the speakers, and after that the armrest of the couch, causing us both to fall back onto the couch, Derek landing on top of me.

“are you sure you want to?” he pulled up and asked.

“yes, please.” I said breathlessly, and next thing I know our lips are attached.

Clothes started flying off and next thing I know Derek is inside of me, no foreplay needed. It felt so good. He felt so good. I was a moaning mess within minutes. The sound of skin slapping and both our moans filled the room, and when we both finally released, Derek collapsed on top of me.

He grabbed a sheet and covered us and within minutes we were both asleep.

The next morning I woke up to the sound of a doorbell. I turned and nudged a still sleepy Derek.

“Derek, someone’s at the door.” I groaned, still tired.

“can you get it babygirl?” he groaned, eyes still closed.

“what the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“just ask what they want, if they explain why they’re here, don’t let them in, if they say they gotta see me, let em in.” He spoke, running his hand down his face, slowly waking up.

I got off the couch and threw on Derek’s shirt, not knowing where mine was. I also threw on his boxers, my panties lost. I started heading towards the door and turned to see Derek finally sitting up, but before I opened the door I yelled at him.

“if you’re about to have company you might wanna put some pants on.”

“babygirl, if you wanted to see me in the morning, all you had to do was ask.” He smirked, standing up and letting the sheet fall, his manhood standing at full attention. Morning wood. I laughed and turned to open the door, looking down still.

“can I help y-“ I stopped short, looking up to see Nate. My eyes wide, his just filled with confusion. He then looked me up and down and suddenly his jaw clenched. He didn’t say anything, just pushed open the door and brushed past me.

“LUH, THE FUCK YOU AT?” Nate screamed, I followed after him, stopping right behind him as he saw Derek in the living room, fixing his shorts.

“hey wassup Skate?”

“YOU FUCKED MY GIRL?” Nate hissed, his hands in fists, ready to throw punches.

“didn’t know yall were together.” Derek spoke, calm as hell.

“well, we were, but, fuck it man, it doesn’t matter, You still fucked my girl.” Nate spoke.

Derek was about to speak again, but Nate had ran up and punched him. The two guys breaking out into a fist fight.

“guys.” I tried, but they didn’t respond.

“Guys!” I yelled louder, yet no response again.

“GUYS” I tried again, but they paid no attention.

“NATE” I yelled, grabbing his arm, and he stopped, holding Derek by the collar, and Nate’s angry look disappeared and his face filled with sorrow. Nate let go of Derek, throwing him down onto the floor.

I made sure Derek was okay, and once I got him off the ground and onto the couch, I turned and looked at Nate.

“what the fuck was that.”

“what the fuck was that? What the fuck is my girlfriend doing at my best friends house in his fucking clothes?” Nate growled, looking between me and Derek. My eyes went wide.

“wait, y-you know each other?” I stuttered.

“yeah, Nate’s family. He got me on his label.” Derek said from the couch.

“wait what?”

“why do you think I’ve been at the studio so much ma? I’ve been working with Derek. Yeah, sometimes we all get a little sidetracked and start fucking around, but other than that it’s been late nights with Derek.” Nate explained. “look, can we talk?”

“uh, yeah.” I said, and Nate took my hand and dragged me into Derek’s kitchen. I leaned against the counter, and Nate stood across from me.

“look, I’m sorry okay. I was an idiot. I shouldn’t have said the shit I did, and I definitely should have stopped you from leaving. I was an ass.” Nate spoke out.

“No Nate, you were right. I should have just trusted you.”

“no (y/n) you were right. I should be spending more time with you, it’s not right for me to spend all my time at the studio or out with the boys, when I could be spending it with my girl.”

“Nate, I didn’t mean what I said. I understand you’re at the studio a lot and working really hard. I just got upset because I thought you would rather go out with the guys then be with me. I- I thought you didn’t love me anymore.” I admitted, looking shyly up at Nate.

His mouth dropped, and in the blink of an eye Nate was in front of me, my face in his hands and his lips on mine. After he pulled back, he looked at me, hands still holding my face.

“babygirl, of course I love you. I’m always gonna love you, don’t you ever doubt that. I never knew what love was until I met you, so you best believe I ain’t ever gonna throw what we got away.” He smiled. “I love you way too much ma.”

“I love you too Nate.”

“so does that mean you’re gonna come back home?” he smiled.

“yeah, I’m coming back home.”


  • Nico: *scratches head in confusion*
  • Nico: shit, where did I put all my shirts?
  • *hours later*
  • Jason: Leo what's in that garbage bag??
  • Leo: *obviously hiding bag behind his back*
  • Leo: garbage bag? What garbage bag? I have no idea what you're talking about!
  • *bag rips*
  • *piles of shirts fall out*
  • Leo: *frantically trying to pick everything up*
  • Leo: look man I don't know what you mean-
  • Nyssa: *from distance* Leo why are there band tees all over your bed?
  • Leo: *wipes sweat off forehead* look guys you got it all wron-
  • Percy: *walks up* hey Leo I grabbed this old Hawaiian shirt out of the dryer for you
  • Leo: FUCK
Badass: Harry Potter

Originally posted by psycho-tate-ahs

Heyy can you do a fix where you’re a badass Slytherin and Draco has a crush on you but so does Harry (you can decide the ending)? Thanks love you ❤️

“You’re a sweet guy and all Draco but I don’t date Slytherins,” he nods and shoves his hand into his pockets before turning and walking away. I want to call out to him but I know that I should give him this time to sort out his thoughts and take his disappointment out on something rather than someone. With a heavy sigh on my part I bring the death stick to my lips and take a long drag before pulling it away and allowing the gray vapors to escape into the air. I look down at the cigarette for a moment and then threw it to the floor, using the front of my boot to put it out.

I pick my bag up from the ground and slung it over my shoulders before walking the opposite direction of Draco. He was a sweet boy when he wanted to and if the circumstances where any different he would be the one for me, we were so much alike, but his parents would never allow him to be friends with a muggle-born witch much less date her. Even though I was a rebel, sneaking out late, smoking in the halls and breaking the rules Draco was better off with someone who wouldn’t get him killed by the Dark Lord. I run a hand through my blue hair and tug at my original hair roots, cursing out loudly when I run right into someone and their drink spill all over my favorite band tee.

“Bastard!” I curse and there was a small squeak from above me before a familiar voice began apologizing. I wave them off and drop my bag to the floor once again before pulling on the end of my shirt and tugging it over my head. I use the shirt too wipe up my chest and parts of the black lace bra I was wearing before dumping it next to my bag and finally looking up at the prick that wasn’t watching where he was going. The first thing I notice was that he was a Gryffindor, evident by the house robes he was wearing, and as I continue to trail my eyes up I saw a pair of pink soft lips, a round baby face and large black rimmed glasses that framed a pair of green eyes.

“I-I’m so sorry,” Harry stutters out and I smirk before rummaging through my bag and grabbing a fresh shirt. His eyes stayed on my chest the whole time and I smirk before reaching out to trail my hands down his chest,” w-what are you doing?”

“You know, if you wanted me naked all you had to do was ask,” I tease and his dark cheeks turn a shade darker before he begins stammering out his words and couldn’t make a proper sentence without choking. I wrap one arm around his neck and tug him closer so that our faces were merely a breath away. He closes his eyes and puckers his lips out as if he was expecting a kiss but I quickly drew myself back and raised an eyebrow at him. “Did you think I was going to let you kiss me that easily Potter, you’re going to have to work for that privilege.”

I lift my head up from the table and stare at the newcomer that would be joining me in detention. A bubble of laughter builds in my chest when I saw that it was Harry but he was covered in splatter of blue paint and was wearing a robe that he obviously stole from an unsuspecting Slytherin. When he sees that I am the only one in the room he immediately takes a seat in the empty chair beside me and glare at Professor Snape. 

“What did you do?” I ask, resting my head on my arms so that I could see him better. Professor Snape shushes us and then goes back to reading the slips of parchment papers that were littered out in front of him. 

“Prank with the twins, lets just say they ditched me to get the punishment,” he mumbles lowly and I hum before leaning in closer and letting my hand run up and down his thigh, inching closer and closer to where no girl should touch. “S-so remember earlier when you said I’d have to earn your kiss. Maybe I could take you out on a date some time, show you just how much I really want that kiss.” 

“I don’t know, being a badass and all could affect our relationship but I guess I can break the rules one more time.” 

“Thirty points from Gryffindor and three months detention for you Ms. (L/N).”

“No offense, I just think he’s just mad that I didn’t go out with his godson.” 

       HE’D HAD A smoothie mishap earlier in the day, and even if it was completely his own fault, sanders still found himself huffing and puffing because of the spill. the green, nutrient-rich puree had slipped dangerously from his fingertips and in an attempt to catch it before it would fall to the sidewalk beneath him, he’d managed to splatter it all over himself — white tee shirt and brand new sneakers included. sanders didn’t even have the patience to clean the newly dried gunk off of his pale arms before he found himself barging into the complex’s shared laundry unit, slipping his shirt over his head in an instant before popping it into an open washer. he hadn’t even noticed if anyone was inside of the detergent-scented room ( and even if they were, he was so full of outrage that he probably wouldn’t have minded ) as he began whipping open the belt of his jeans and stripping down into his boxers. sanders was very passionate about two things: self-expression, and laundry. he needed his clothes to be washed as soon as possible.

Ashton Imagine: Pregnancy Gender Surprise

Author: Rhine


You smiled as you watched Ashton try to assemble the baby crib, his curly hair flopping onto his face as he re-read the manual for the fifth time, tools and parts scattered around him. 

He looked so adorably confused, eyebrows furrowed as he sat cross-legged in the middle of the nursery, trying to decipher the manual before him.

“Do you need help, Ash?” You giggle, watching as a small frown started to form on his lips. 

He shakes his head, a few loose curls escaping from his bandana and covering his eyes. 

“Trust me, babe. I got this.”

“You said that four tries ago, Ash.”

“Fifth time’s the charm. Have a little faith.”

You give him a doubtful look, and he merely sticks his tongue out at you.

He rolls up the sleeves of his baseball shirt a little more, exposing the tanned muscle underneath. He absentmindedly picks up the screwdriver next to him, muttering underneath his breath as he makes his way back to the mess of crib parts that he had half-assembled in the past hour.

You can’t help but to stare at your husband, who was now hammering away at a wooden leg with his tongue sticking out of his mouth in concentration - he was beautiful and sweet and he brought a smile to your face every day without a fail.

You could only hope that your baby could have a smile as beautiful as Ashton’s.

You absentmindedly rubbed your swollen stomach, a habit you had picked up ever since you found out about your pregnancy six months ago. 

You still remembered when you saw the little symbols marking a positive; how Ashton’s smile put the sun to shame, how he picked you up and planted the sweetest kiss on your forehead, holding you close.

Thank you. 

The sincerity of his words had reverberated in your bones, and all you could do was kiss him lightly on the lips, standing at the tips of your toes just to reach him.

No, thank you. For giving me the best opportunity I could ever ask for. For your love. For your miracle.

He had held against his chest and placed gentle kisses on the top of your head, whispering sweet nothings in your ear and tracing patterns on the small of your back.

You had put your head on his heart and felt his heartbeat ring with yours - and with the heartbeat of the new life in your stomach.

You and Ashton were more than ready to be parents - you were happily married and prepared for the next step in your life together, making plans and talking about dreams and hopes and wishes over dinner and before bed and in the early mornings. 

But having it be confirmed, knowing that your dreams would be coming true in a matter of months - it made the two of you ecstatic. 

You delighted in planning schedules and researching about this and that and choosing the best path for the life in your belly. You loved shopping for clothes and equipment for the new addition in your family - you and Ashton would run down the aisle like little kids, pulling this and that off the shelves and racks and playing with toys and wondering if your baby would love it as much as the two of you did.

You set aside all the toys and clothes and equipment in your house, everything sitting patiently, waiting for the arrival of the baby. 

You loved finding out the size of the baby inside of you, and Ashton eagerly marked your growing stomach’s progress on the wall of your living room. 

Just two more months to go, babe. We’re almost there - we’re so close. 

He made sure you didn’t have to do any work - not if he could help it. Ashton fussed over you like a mother hen, giving you breakfast in bed and holding your arm whenever you walked and tying your shoelaces and holding your bags and massaging your sore feet. He’d cook dinner and do the cleaning, and even did the laundry - which he hated - while you sat and read a book or watched some television.

He made sure you were pampered and comfortable and happy, saying you were his queen and he promised to take care of you from now on until forever.

You worried for him, though - he’d collapse onto the bed at the end of every long day, worn and tired, and you’d have to remind him to take breaks during the day, telling him to rest his head on your shoulder and to just hold you and your baby for a moment before bustling away for the quick arrival.

Got to make everything perfect for my queen and princess. 

He’d wink at you, dimples flashing, before getting back to work.

Ashton was so elated when the doctor told the two of you that it was a girl - you saw the tears starting to form in the corner of his eyes when the news was announced, and the tender words that he’d whisper to your growing stomach every night made your heart melt.

Daddy loves you, princess.

He’d kiss your stomach gently, rubbing it lightly before placing a delicate kiss on your forehead, whispering goodnight.

One more month, beautiful - one more month ‘till we can start this little family of ours. 


Ashton was ecstatic , to say the least, during your last month of pregnancy - even more so than usual, which you didn’t think was possible.

He’d have this bounce in his step and a smile on his face and his happiness seeped out of him, uncontrollable. He went to the baby stores and insisted on getting everything ready for the arrival of the baby himself - he wouldn’t let you lift a finger, despite your protests.

You’ve got to take care of the baby - besides, this is daddy’s job.

He painted the nursery pink, getting splashes of pink paint all over his ripped tees and golden curls, coming back to you with splotches of paint on his nose. The room was haphazardly painted - you can almost pick out where Ashton tried to paint as he laughed at some stupid joke you made - but you loved it and smiled when he finished, covered in paint and standing proudly in the middle of the room, a mess all around him.

It looks perfect, Ash.

Do you think she’ll like it?

I think she’ll love it.

He built the dresser and the crib and he painstakingly assembled all the parts himself, scratching his head all afternoon and staying up late to complete it all. He arranged all the clothes neatly in their drawers and positioned all the toys around the room himself, making sure that everything was perfectly in its place.

He always took out time for a break though, cuddling with you throughout the day and occasionally playing with the toys to 'test them out’.

Psst, this is Ashtronaut. The crib has been successfully assembled, I repeat the crib has been successfully assembled. Ashtronaut, over and out.

Ash, are you playing with the walkie-talkie again?

Psst, this is Ashtronaut. This is a vital testing process, love. Ashtronaut, over and out.

You merely watched and smiled as he did it all, a warmth bubbling through your body as Ashton prepared himself to be a dad, all with a smile on his face.

He’s enjoying it, you think - sometimes you catch Ashton standing in the completed nursery by himself, looking around the room he had worked so hard on, smiling to himself, and you wonder what’s going through that mind of his.

Sometimes he’d crawl over to your spot on the couch and plop himself next to you, gently rubbing your stomach and lazily wrapping his arms around you, his breath warm on your neck. You’d ask him if he was tired and he’d merely answer with I’d never be tired of being a dad, smiling sleepily up at you before dozing off a few minutes later.

And on the nights where Ashton stayed awake, you’d curl up with him on the bed that you shared, doodling on a piece of paper while the two of you thought of names. Ever since the doctor told you that your baby was a girl three months ago, you and Ashton had been coming up with names, playing with different sounds and meanings, often before the two of you went to sleep.

You could never agree on a name, and when you’d be lucky enough to settle on one that you thought would be alright, the two of you would always change your mind a few days later.

Why don’t we just call her Princess?

As a pet name, sure - but legally, I think she might hold a few grudges against us.

Why? I mean, I’d want to be called 'princess’.

You can be a fairy princess if you want, Ash.

At the end of the day, the two of you decided that you’d pick out a name from the few selections you had after the baby was born - you agreed that you couldn’t pick a name before getting to know your little girl first.

Ashton marked the days down on your calendar, eagerly crossing off each day, getting closer and closer to the day you were expected to be due.

Princess is coming, babe - we’re going to be a family at last.


You remember the twisting pain in your abdomen in the middle of lunch, how Ashton yelped and hurried you to the car, driving you to the hospital like a madman.

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god -

You were panicking and groaning in pain, holding your stomach and still in a state of shock even though you saw this coming nine months ago.

You just couldn’t believe it was happening.

And how much it hurt.

You’ll be fine, babe - just breathe, just breathe - in and out, just like that. Just breathe, you’re doing perfect.

The hospital trip was a blur of hysteria and trying to calm yourself and trying to bear with the pain all at once, and you were hardly aware of your surroundings until you were lying on the hospital bed surrounded by doctors and nurses.

Everyone was a frenzy of words and advice and all you could see were people with masks on their faces telling you to do this and that and nothing was sinking into your head except for the pain.

You searched for Ashton’s face among the masked faces and found his bright eyes, a few tufts of curls escaping the medical hat. You couldn’t see his lips but you could see the smile in his eyes, full of endearing support and love.

You can do it, babe. Come on, that’s my girl!

He gripped your hand and you’re pretty sure you might’ve broke his in the process, but he’s full of encouragement and having him by your side makes you feel stronger, despite the growing weariness in your body.

You cry out and you scream and you’re so tired and you feel like your body is being stretched from the inside out and you’re sore and panting and you can’t remember the last time you felt this worn out, but everyone keeps on telling you that you’re almost there and Ashton’s thumb is gently massaging your knuckles and you tell yourself to hold on for a few more minutes.

And after what feels like an eternity, you hear a cry that’s not your own and everyone’s cheering and you collapse onto the bed, exhausted.

You just manage to open your eyes enough to see a nurse in front of you hold a small bundle covered in bits of red, and you make out small hands waving in the air. You weakly reach out for it, and the nurse smiles, carrying the small bundle towards you.

Congratulations - it’s a healthy baby boy.

You barely register the words in your head, but when you hold the little bundle in your arm, you can’t help but to smile down at it - him.

My beautiful baby boy.

You’re taken aback by how small he his - he barely fits in your arms - and his eyes are wide and starting to blink, small hands reaching for you, forming tiny fists. You can see the smooth skin and the soft curves and dips of his tiny body, and a small tuft of curly hair growing from the top of his head.

It’s a boy, Ash. It’s a boy.

Ashton’s leaning down next to you, a soft smile on his lips, dimples in his cheeks. He’s sticking out his long index finger for the baby to play with, the baby’s small hands barely encircling Ashton’s large finger. Ashton gently tickles the baby’s stomach with his finger, his smile growing as he continues to watch the little bundle in your arms.

All the thoughts of a girl and a princess in pink disappears once you see Ashton and your son - you couldn’t ask for anything more, you wouldn’t want anything else - seeing your husband and your son brought a wave of warmth and content through your system despite your tiredness.

He’s perfect. Just like you.

You see Ashton’s smile grow even larger at your words as his eyes meets yours, an indefinable happiness radiating in his beam.

Our perfect family.


request tweets, imagines, & gifs here!