#and it calms him enough to wanna see where this Bat is taking him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gucciforasushirestaurant · 5 months

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Kinkmas 🎄 № 2: Voyeurism

summary: harry takes you to amsterdam.

word count: 4.2k

reading time: 18 min.

content warnings: 18+, sex toys, public sex, sex work(ers), teasing, oral (f reciving), manhandling (if you squint), d/s undertones (harry is just a little bossy is all), pet names (baby, lovie, good girl, pretty girl) implied bi/pan!reader, fxf scene, f solo scene, fxm scenes are also described as well. very obvious ignorance to sex work/sex clubs.

a/n: now i wanna go to Amsterdam. brb booking my flight!

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Harry prided himself on his ability to plan a trip for the two of you. From beginning to end, you never had a care in the world on these trips other than what dress you would wear to dinner. Even then, Harry often made his preference very clear by digging into your bag while you showered and laying out his pick for the night (accessories included, of course). You didn't mind being his little doll; you liked it when he picked out something for you. It made you feel special; you'd yet to figure out why, but you didn't question it too much. Not when every part of your trip was planned, from the moment you woke up to breakfast in bed to some activity fit for each day to dinner reservations each night. Harry had it all covered.

You found yourselves on this trip in Amsterdam. 'Just because,' he said. And that was a good enough reason for you to get another stamp on your passport. You've done all the tourist spots thus far. All but one. Until tonight.

Tonight, you were headed to a show. A show in the redlight district.

So, what you cheated this time. You saw the confirmation email on Harry's phone from the theater earlier, did a quick Google search, and now your stomach is in knots. In a good way, nervous anticipation more than anything. But still, you had to remain calm. Tonight was a surprise, so you needed to be surprised.

Harry was sure you were going to be. Regardless of how horrible your acting had been, trying to pretend like you didn't know where you were headed, he knew you too well. He knew you saw the confirmation and damn near planned it for you to see. Harry knew your curiosity would eat at you, and you'd inevitably do your own research. But he also knew that you'd only go searching so far. He hopes he's staying within your boundaries with this one. That this all wasn't too much. But by the way, you're fumbling at the vanity, trying to do the finishing touches to your make-up and hair, telling him you are more than ready for tonight.

You fumble through your make-up bag in search of a specific brush when Harry comes up behind you, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"Almost done, baby. I know we are on a timer." you rush out, eyes meeting him in the mirror briefly, not noticing that only one hand is on your waist. The other is behind his back, holding something.

"Don't rush; we're more than okay on time." he smiles, pressing a hiss to the side of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine that wakes you up. "Can I ask you to hold onto something for me?"

You don't look up from what you're doing in front of the mirror; you don't even see what he's holding up. "You have a million pockets, bab-" your eyes widen when they meet his in the mirror after locking eyes with what's in his hand. "You brought that on the plane!" you whisper, through a smile, turning towards him, heat rising to your cheeks at the thought. In his hand was what was slowly becoming your favorite toy that you and Harry had added to your 'playtime.' It was your remote control butterfly-esque toy. It was meant to fill you up just enough while the buzzing base hit right up against your clit just right. You've discussed wearing it in public before but never thought he would commit to the idea. You can't believe he'd brought it. Happy, excited, even, but nervous.

"I did. Specifically for tonight. Thought it would be appropriate for where we're going?"

"Where could we possibly be going where that's appropriate?" you smirk, playfully batting at his chest.

"You'll see," he smirked, taking a moment to read your face. "Look, I know we've only ever used this guy in the bedroom, but I thought it would be fun tonight. If you are uncomfortable, we can scratch -"

"No!" you rush out, reaching for it in his hand. "I just mean - what were you thinking?"

"Well, I don't want to give away the whole surprise, but it starts with this," He emphasizes by bringing your attention to the toy, "Going inside of my pretty girl." he smirks, looking between your legs, "after I have a taste of course," he adds.

"Oh, well, of course," you giggle, rolling your eyes playfully.

"Right. So once I've had my fill of my peach, then this will go nice and snug inside your pussy," Harry says with a smile before he brings his hand up from your hip to your jaw, bringing your eyes to his, his eyes blown out in lust. "And you're going to hold it in there for me. All night until we get back here. Hopefully, if you are up for it, I'll be spending the rest of our last night between your legs. Letting you see Amsterdam from your favorite angle, baby." He rasps, dipping his down and crashing his lips to yours.

On your back.

You giggle into the kiss. It was a silly thing you'd said when you were in Paris. You had the perfect view of the Eiffel Tower. You are unsure how he did it; regardless, it was an ideal view. And yet you spent most of the trip, seeing it upside down, while on your back, head dangling off the side of the bed as Harry had worked, orgasm after orgasm from you. You'd then joked that you'd want to see every city with him on your back. Seeing the Eiffel Tower upside down was your favorite way to see it. So it's kind of become a tradition of sorts to have mind-blowing sex in each city you visit together, at least once.

Harry has taken it to be a challenge to get you that high off him, to say something just as goofy in every city, and if that meant you were on your back, well….it was tradition. He leans in, deepening the kiss, "How's that sound?" He pulls away and chuckles at your eyes, still fluttering open.

"Good. yeah."

"Yeah? This is okay?" he asks, seriously, his tone sweet as pie.

"Yeah. It…could be fun. Just try not to embarrass me too with it too bad," you joke with a sigh, and Harry shakes his head insistently.

"Never. I'd never embarrass you with this. This is for us, for you. S' not to make a spectacle of you. I'd never."

"I know," You giggle into a kiss, trying to shake some of your nerves.

"I just want you to know. Now," He smirks devilishly down at you, lust clouding over his eyes, "Can I?"

You cross your arms across your chest, "I don't know, can you?" you mock, finally getting to pull his favorite word 'gotcha' on him. And he groans, gripping your jaw again, playfully growling at you.

"You brat." he sighs at you. He leans down, kissing you deep, before pulling away just enough. "May I?" he asks, eyes never leaving yours. "Please."

"You may." you breathe out.

You barely have time to register his movements. He's on his knees before you, hiking your dress up your thighs in seconds. He looks up at you with a devilish grin as he shimmies your panties down your thighs. You kick them to the side, and Harry grabs hold of one of your thighs, hooking it over his shoulder, "Lean back, baby. Hold onto the sink." He smirks before planting sloppy kisses up each of your thighs. Slow and intimate.

Harry wasn't a fan of quickies. Sure, you'd had a few here and there, but they were never Harry's style. He never rushed, not with you. And especially not when he was given the privilege of going down on you. No, he was going to savor every moment he got to spend between your thighs. Knowing that he was the only one to see you from this angle.

When his lips finally did land where you'd been wanting them, it was just a light peck to your folds. Followed by a long bold lick from your entrance to your clit.

"Harry, we don't have time." You whine, wanting him to devour you like you both know he wanted to.

"Shhh, don't you worry about that," he coos, placing another kiss on your thigh, "just relax." He returned his lips to your folds and did what Harry does best. Take you to heaven. He went slow at first, alternating between licking up and down your folds and sucking on your clit. His hands roamed and groped, pulling you down further onto his tongue. He licked and sucked, twirled his tongue. God, was he amazing with his mouth. And never was he stingy in blessing you with his oral talents. He was so lost in you, drunk on the taste of you on his tongue, Harry nearly forgot about his original plan. It wasn't until he felt your fingers twist into his hair, tugging ever so slightly with a whine, that he was brought back down to earth.

"Can I ask you for one more thing, baby?" He asks against your pussy. You look down at him, eyes blown out in lust, nodding vigorously. You were so close.

"Mmhmm, anything." You keen, tugging at his hair some more.

"I need you to come for me. Can you do that?" He asks, looking up at you, slowly inserting his middle finger inside.

Your mouth falls open, eyes still locked on Harry on his knees for you. "Mmmhmm." You nod.

"Good girl," He coos, and your stomach flips at the praise, "You come for me, and then I'll give you the toy, and you keep it for the rest of the night, okay?" Again, all you had the brain power to do was nod at him, tugging his hair, pulling him closer.

You could feel the spring in the pit of your stomach; you were right there. "Harry-"you keen,

"That's it, baby, come on." He encourages, curling his fingers up, dragging them in and out of you at a pace that has you spinning. "Come on my fingers, baby."

It's all you need. Harry's permission before you come undone on one of his hands while the other arms hold you up. He works you through your first orgasm of the night, pulling it from you with every drag of his fingers. You barely have time to fully come down before you feel him removing his fingers and inserting the toy. It's slightly thicker than Harry's fingers, so the fit is somewhat snug, but the feeling is phenomenal.

Harry straightens up once the toy is in place and you've caught your breath. He shimmies your panties back up your legs and straightens your dress out for you. You wrap your areas around his shoulders, bringing him close to you, and he places a sweet peck on your forehead and nose before kissing your lips, just enough for you to taste yourself. "You okay?" He smiles.

"Yeah. Thank you." You breathe out, your head still a little fuzzy from your orgasm, your legs still a little weak.

"You don't have to thank me every time I make you come, baby." He chuckles.

"I know. But still." You shrug, leaning your forehead against his for just a moment. You two stood momentarily while you came down, holding each other against the sink.

"Can you finish getting ready for me?" He asks, bringing you back to the present.

"Yeah - just a few minutes." you smile. He looked down at you with a proud grin on his face.

"I'll be out there," he looks down at his watch and chuckles. "Okay, maybe now we are on a bit of a time crunch, but still - baby, don't rush." He places a quick kiss on your temple. "I will be by the door when you're ready."

'I'll be by the door' was Harry Speak for 'I love you, but you have ten minutes.' You shake your head and opt for a quick brown contour on your eyes to give you some life rather than your planned smoky eye. You topped off the look with some mascara and gloss. It's a nice no-make-up look.

Perfect for a sex show - Buzzzz. You jolted forward. 'He's a mind reader, isn't he?' You think. How else could he have perfectly cued the vibrating egg to go off at the mere thought of tonight's plans?

"Lovie - come on," Harry calls from the front of the hotel with a smirk ever so present in his voice.

Bastard. You curse him in your head, trying to keep your moans at bay. Just when you think you feel like you feel the beginnings of that tingly feeling that starts at the base of your spine once more, it stops. And Harry comes around the corner, no indication on his face that he's the reason you've been hunched over in here rather than out there with him. "You ready?"

Shit. You hated this game. You were terrible at it. But it was Harry's favorite.

The game? Harry worked you up, with you doing the same, while you both played coy and ignored the other's attempts until someone broke. That someone was nearly always you.

"Yes." You squeak out, straightening your dress out. "Fuck." you say out loud. How would you keep this thing in you with a dress if he plans on doing that all night?

"Everything okay?" he asks condescendingly.

"Fine." you breathe out. You were not going to let Harry win at this that easy. "I'm fine, let's go. I'm ready." He smiles at you, proud of your attempt to keep the game going. Tonight was going to be so fun for you both.

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Harry kept you huddled into his side as you moved through the brisk December streets of Amsterdam. Your coat was more style than function, and Harry, ever the gentleman, sacrificed his own for you to stay warm.

"We're just about - Oh. Here it is." he slows down, pulling you behind him to a door along a strip of stores that looked abandoned. He feels the weight of you stopped behind him. "I promise this is the place." Still, you don't budge, "I have it on good authority that this is the place," he smirks.

"Who's authority, Harry?" You whisper for some reason, but this feels like the part of town where you whisper. Without answering, he turns his back to you, looking down at his phone again before knocking on the door several times and pocketing it. And it opens. Harry gives a vague riddle, and the next thing you know, you are being pulled behind a doorway in the Red Light District of Amsterdam.

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It's a theater. A rather large one, with three stages, or one big stage with two diving walls. Each location was wide enough to have stairs leading from the vast audience to each stage. In the back was a bar, lit dimly with a few scattered patrons. But in the center of the room, the audience seating was…different.

For one, the place was packed with patrons. For seating, there were booths and small tables, but closer to the stage were cabana-type seating, with some sort of private walls made of flowy dark satin curtains. The whole space was draped in dark purple, black, and gold. The lights were low, completely dim, if not for the stage light and the small lamps scattered about on some tables. The music was quiet yet thumping. You could feel the bass in your chest, and the vibrations did nothing to help the ache between your thighs.

But, the stages.

That's where the center of all attention in the large room was and where your eyes were glued the entire time Harry pulled you through the theater to your reserved booth.

"Sit, baby." Harry smiles, tugging your hand for you to follow him into the rounded booth. You look down at him, then behind you, realizing you are blocking people's view. "You like it?" Harry asks, draping an arm around your shoulder as you shrug off his jacket, draping it across your lap. Covering what your dress doesn't.

My clever girl, Harry thinks.

"Is this -"

"This is the show," he whispers down into your ear. "See, each one is a different stage of arousal. See?" he explains, looking out onto the stages. You get a perfect view of all three stages from where you two are seated. You notice a few smaller platforms scattered throughout the room and at either side of the stage, to the right and left. On each platform stood a woman, fully exposed, moving to the music and flowing with the lights that danced across her skin. It was art.

On the stage closest to you and Harry was a couple, a man and a woman. He was much larger than her, similar to you and Harry's size difference. He towered over her as he caressed her cheek. Their movements were slow and sensual but deliberate as they stood center stage, with nothing but a chair on stage beside them. You were so focused on them and the music and the lights you didn't notice Harry reaching into his pocket, retrieving the remote for the toy. Only when it was too late did you realize. As you feel the toy's vibrations, you reach over, gripping Harry's knee underneath the tiny cocktail table. A small squeak escaped your lips.

"Shhh…baby, be good. Be quiet for me, okay?"

"Yeah." you quip out, digging your nails into his thigh, causing him to hiss.

"Use me how you need, baby," he whispers tightly into your ear, and you have to bite your lower lip to keep from moaning out in this theater. Not that anyone would hear the music and the noises coming from the women on the stage; there must have been microphones on stage with how clear their moans rang through the room.

Another woman was on the stage to the far right of where you were. She was alone, besides the assortment of toys next to her, but by the looks and sounds of it, she didn't need any of it. No, she was doing just fine the old-fashioned way.

Then you take in the stage to the left of you. You have to turn your head a little to get a full view of it all, and once you do, the grip on Harry's knee tightens. It was two women in the throws of passion, in a position you've only ever dreamed of. They lay on each of their sides, facing opposite directions, faces buried in each other's thighs.

"I picked this show for them. Especially. I know you'd love them." He turns the vibrator up, but only a nudge, still a low hum, and nothing to write home about. But with the images and sounds surrounding you, it was enough to drive you mad. His lips linger at your year a second too long, his breath sending those pleasant tingles all over your body. "And Him," he says, drawing your attention back to the stage closest to you.

The couple is half dressed now, her breasts exposed, and he - well, you know why Harry said what he did. The man was a sight to behold. He couldn't hold a candle to Harry size-wise, but he was impressive and above average. And he didn't even appear to be fully erect. The woman was working on changing that, it seemed. You watched as she took his impressive length into her much smaller hand and pumped him slow, up and down. You looked over at Harry, who couldn't keep his eyes off you.

"You're missing the show," you whisper as he licked his bottom lip before tugging it between his teeth. You mirrored his action.

"No, I'm not." He smirked, "Eyes, forward." he demanded softly. He turns up the vibe once again as you watch the woman drop to her knees in front of the man, who's opted to sit in the provided chair. From the way he is sitting in the chair to the side, you have a perfect view of the woman wrapping her lips around him with a pornographic moan. You couldn't help but suck in a breath. Suddenly, you were longing for the weight of Harry to be on your tongue. To feel him fill your mouth, your throat, to hear him groan as you reached up to play with his balls. You craved it.

For a split second, you looked around the crowded room. You are taking in the sights and sounds. There were a couple of groups, some people kissing and some whispering to one another, but every eye was locked on that stage. All except Harry, that is. You turn your attention back on the two girls, and they're both cuddled up to each other on a makeshift bed of sheets and pillows on stage, basking in an assumed post-orgasm glow. Harry catches the pout on your lips immediately.

"I missed it."

"You better pay attention then," He chuckles, "with all your sense. Not just sight. Listen, smell…feel."

Feel.

Oh, this damn egg! The hum of the vibrator is ever-present between your thighs now. Though it's not enough vibration to relieve the ache that's developed, it is starting to get you to that place that makes you warm and fuzzy rather quickly. And you want more, need more. So you turn to face him, landing a sweet peck on his lips. Then, leaning your forehead to his for a moment and leaning into his ear, whispering, "Harry, can I get more, please." You beg, sweetly. He pulls you away from him by the chin, kissing your nose.

"No. Watch the show." He says and smiles when you huff at him, wiggling in the booth for some much-needed relief, your attention back to center stage. He pinches your arm lightly, "Don't do that, either. You know the rules. Take what I give you." he recites. You nod in understanding and try to focus on the show center stage.

The woman has the man's cock fully down her throat now, and she sucked him with such enthusiasm, and his head was thrown back in such ecstasy it nearly gave you cock envy. When she finally came up for air with an animated throw of her head, she stood up from her spot between his legs before sitting on his lap, wrapping his arms around his shoulder. She leans in, kissing him slowly as his hands roamed all over her body. Groping, and kneading…spanking. That's when you feel his lips on your neck. And you are going to lose your mind. Was this hot? Absolutely. But you needed Harry like you've never before, and being unable to do anything about it was killing you.

"Harry, I don't know how much longer I can-"You were close. Embarrassingly close.

"Okay." He hums, and the next thing you know, the vibrations between your legs stopped. You let out a deep sigh, something mixed with frustration and relief. "There, now….you can focus. Watch them." Harry instructs.

So you do. You watch. You watch as she slowly takes his length into her hand, pumping him a few moments before sinking down onto him. You hear her moans as she gets fully seated on him, setting a pace. Harry couldn't help but watch and hear your breath hitch as hers did. Knowing what you were thinking, knowing that you were thinking about him. How he feels inside you, stretching you out, making you feel full. He knew because he couldn't help but think about the same.

As the woman on stage picked up her pace, bouncing on the man's cock up and down, swiveling her hips, you felt it again. The buzzing of the toy between your thighs.

"Harry," you whisper, gripping onto his thigh again.

"Shhh, you're okay," he assures but places a quick peck on your shoulder, momentarily drawing your attention to him. "Do you want it off?" He asks, checking in.

"No!" you rush out, and he smiles at Cheshire's grin before turning it up two more notches. Your grip on his thigh tightens as you bite your lip, turning back to the stage.

She is close now, you can tell. Her pace is quicker more frantic, and the noises. God, the noises she was making were heavenly, mixed with his groans as you watched him lunge forward, attaching his lips to her chest.

Harry takes his other hand that wasn't wrapped around you, tangling his fingers with yours, giving them a comforting squeeze.

"Harry, please."

"No, baby." He says sternly. He knew what you were asking for, and as much as he hated saying no to you, he wouldn't let you come in public. Even if you were hidden by the walls of the tall booth, even if no one was watching, he would never allow it. When it came to you, Harry was selfish, and when it came to your pleasure and who got to see you in your most intimate moments, he was downright protective.

Just as the woman on stage reached her peach, you were about to tell Harry that you couldn't hold it. That you couldn't take anymore without coming, the vibrator stops. You lean over, resting your head on Harry's shoulder.

"I was so close." you pout.

"I know. But I'll take care of you when we get back. I promise."

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kinkmas 2023 masterlist

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cupid-styles · 6 months

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mates

in which harry is a frat boy alpha, y/n is a sleepy omega, and some weird feelings occur.

word count: 1.7k

content warnings: abo dynamics, frat!harry

masterlist | talk to me

fall/halloween blurb masterlist

. . .

Y/N feels stupid.

Unfortunately, it's not because of the whole matching Playboy bunny costume charade her friends wrangled her into to. She does feel ridiculous standing in the middle of a party in glorified lingerie, getting drooled over by the frat boy alphas that apparently own this house (Y/N would have never agreed to this if she knew this is where they were spending Halloween night. It makes her feel like the perfect embodiment of an omega, and that in turn makes her uncomfortable).

Her friends are all but licking up their praise, flirting and batting their eyelashes at them, and that's fine — really, she's been there before, where she's just wanted some random alpha to stick his dick in her and call it a night — but she's feeling... weird, and she can't quite explain why.

With her drink in hand, Y/N quietly removes herself from the kitchen, Lea and Paige too tipsy and occupied with whatever-their-names-are to care. She meanders through the rooms of the party, passing by the smokers lounge that's clouded with thick smoke, followed by the makeout room that's oddly reminiscent of a middle school party, and then, finally, a bit of quiet.

She finds herself in a long hallway with doors on either side, and she assumes this is where the bedrooms are. She's not naive enough to jiggle the doorknobs to look for an empty room (besides, there probably aren't any), so she just slides down against the length of the wall, sitting down on the gross carpeted floor. A long sigh leaves her mouth as she closes her eyes; an attempt to ground herself and figure out why she's feeling this way.

And even without her wandering eyes, she smells him before she knows he's there. The weird primal part of her that she never quite understood is suddenly awake, threatening to claw out of her body and take over her normally subdued persona. So she peeks an eye open to see him standing over her — towering, really, and it's slightly intimidating — all long, curly brown hair and an oversized leather jacket thrown over his shoulders.

"Are you okay?"

She realizes what this looks like; a Playboy bunny sitting alone in an uncharted part of a Halloween party, red solo cup in hand, and figures he's probably concerned she's going to puke on the carpet at any point.

"I'm fine," she answers, clearing her throat as she stands from her spot, swaying slightly from the platform heels Lea convinced her to wear, "My friends ditched me. Well, actually, I ditched them 'cos they're up some alpha's asses and I didn't wanna deal with all that. Sorry."

In any other instance, she'd turn on her heel and walk away. Standing in the middle of an empty hallway with a man she's never met before at a party sounds like a recipe for disaster, and she doesn't even have her pepper spray on her (there wasn't any room in this stupid black satin bodysuit). Instead, there's something in her body that's causing her feet to stay firmly planted in their spot.

"Oh. Those are probably my friends, so I'm sorry about that." He replies, and Y/N's eyebrows shoot up.

"Oh fuck, I'm such an idiot," she clasps her hand around her forehead in embarrassment, "You're part of this frat, aren't you? And those are like your brothers, or whatever?"

He chuckles, a lopsided grin wiggling its way onto his face, and it makes her nerves calm some.

"Yeah, I am. It's fine, though. They're dumbasses, I don't mind you insulting thousands of years of brotherhood straight to my face."

She can tell he's teasing based on his body language; the way he's leaning his shoulder against the wall now and his eyes are slightly squinted, his lips upturned in a mocking smile.

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, "I'm sorry, I just didn't realize this is where we'd be tonight and I would've mentally prepared myself more. And maybe worn pants."

His eyes wander down the length of her legs, zeroing in on the fishnets covering her skin and the chunky heels on her feet. She warms under his gaze as he makes his way up to her head, pointing to the floppy bunny ears tucked into her hair.

"Where's your Hugh Hefner, then?"

"Didn't you hear? He was a total perv."

"Ah, you speak ill of the dead, too?"

Y/N huffs as he grins, and she crosses her arms over her chest.

"I'm Harry," he says when she doesn't reply, then points to the door they're standing in front of, "And you're actually blocking my bedroom."

"You should've led with that!" Y/N exclaims, stepping away from the door, sweat prickling at her armpits when he lets out an amused cackle. "God, instead you just entertained yourself with talking to the weird half-naked omega in front of it!"

He's still laughing as he takes out a key from his jeans to unlock the door, walking inside. She figures that's it — in classic university fashion, a one-off interaction with someone at a party that she'll never speak to again — but instead, Harry peeks back out from his bedroom with furrowed eyebrows.

"Aren't you coming in? I have sweats you can borrow if you want."

And again, everything about this situation is so unlike Y/N, but she doesn't even allow her brain to contemplate it as her feet automatically carry her inside. The second he closes the door behind them, she's overwhelmed with the most comforting, musky and warm scent she's ever smelled, her eyes nearly fluttering shut at the way it wraps around her, akin to a tender, tight embrace.

Harry occupies himself with digging in his dresser, pulling out a pair of gray joggers and handing them to her.

"Why are you doing this?" she suddenly asks, gently placing her cup on his nightstand before shimmying the sweatpants up and over her bottom, "You don't even know me and you're being so nice to me."

He shrugs. "Do you want the real answer or some bullshit alpha frat boy answer?"

She scoffs at that, "You tell me."

She's anticipating an equally sarcastic answer (it seems to be that that's their dynamic), but instead he rolls his lips into his mouth, a look of contemplation on his face.

"I don't wanna get all... weird and primal on you since we literally just met, but I, um... smelled you. Your scent. I was down in the basement but I knew there was someone standing outside my door and I, uh... I knew I needed to come see you."

Y/N wrinkles her nose. "I was feeling really weird before I came up here. I couldn't really figure out what it was."

"Did you... like, did you feel particularly drawn to this room?" he asks, pushing his bottom lip together between his fingers.

"Yeah, actually."

"And... can I ask, did you feel any less weird when you came in, maybe?"

She thinks for a moment. "I... actually felt better when you showed up."

"Huh."

They're quiet then, each in their own cycle of thinking as they process what they've just revealed to one another. They're strangers, and yet— yet, they both know what this means.

"Do you think...?"

Y/N snaps her head up with parted lips, slightly surprised that he's bringing up the obvious. She sighs — she never really bought into the whole binding mate thing, and even though she presented as an omega as an early teen, she doesn't think those labels mean much. Yeah, she experiences heats and the pesky biological traits of it all, but she's never spent much time daydreaming about the perfect alpha that'll bite her neck and knot her, filling her up and breeding her until she can't even remember her own name.

But that was before she met Harry.

Now, Harry's sitting in front of her and she realizes she's never felt so calm before, a sense of belonging enveloping her every cell... and well, it's kind of difficult to ignore.

(It's also hard to pretend like the omega tendencies deep in her body — like the way her core is wound up tight, all but begging Harry to fuck his knot into her — didn't just turn on the second they made eye contact.)

"I think it could be a possibility." She finally admits, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Hey, don't stress over this," Harry replies with concerned eyes, "It's no big deal. There's no pressure to figure anything out right now."

"I've never really believed in this before. So, it's kind of weird to be... possibly experiencing it."

He nods understandingly as she sits down next to him on the edge of the bed. They both keep their gazes low, the only audible sound the low thumping bass of the music blasting downstairs.

"Do you feel anything?" she asks, turning her head to look at him. "Like, between us?"

He clears his throat. He doesn't want to make her uncomfortable, because his honest answer is something along the lines of, yes, and I actually can't stand to look at your neck because all I want to do is bite it and give you a pretty little mark to wear for the rest of your life.

"I think so," he settles, "I do feel... some physical attraction, yeah."

"Are you just saying that because you're trying to get laid on Halloween?"

Harry scoffs and bumps his shoulder against hers, a giggle sounding from her lips.

"You're an absolute menace, y'know that?" he teases with a shake of his head, "I hope you aren't my mate, 'cos if I have to put up with this, I might have to toss myself out the window."

She cackles loudly, "Oh, and you're any better? You're dressed as a greaser for Halloween! That's the least original costume ever!"

"You're a Playboy bunny!"

They both erupt into laughs, a thankful and necessary break in the seriousness of the situation. When their giggling does finally die down, Y/N swallows, her heart speeding up slightly as she turns her body to face his.

"Can we at least... try something?" she asks softly, and Harry doesn't even need to think before he's already nodding his head. She leans in and he meets her halfway, quiet and nervous breaths ghosting over each other's lips as their mouths meet, plush and sweet and — Y/N really, truly hates to be so cliche, but it's true — it feels so right, that it's like her body chemistry is morphing into something more as they kiss.

It's meant to be a quick and soft peck, but neither of them want to part as their lips move against one another's, Harry hesitantly reaching out to press his hand against her cheek. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, tugging her body closer to his until she's almost in his lap. They're slightly disappointed when they realize they need to break for air, Y/N's eyes blinking open to take in the man sitting there, watching her with a knowing look.

"Yeah," she says, and he nods. "Yeah, this is..."

She doesn't need to say it because they both already know — it's the end of one chapter and the beginning of another, a greater one, because it turns out mates do exist, and sometimes they appear in the form of a Playboy bunny sitting outside your frat house bedroom.

#writing #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles blurb #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #harry styles x you #one direction

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piratefishmama · 8 months

Text

Finders Givers | Part 4

Steve Harrington had faced a lot of daunting things in his lifetime. He’d dealt with a lot of intimidating people, criminals of all shapes and sizes, he’d dealt with the lot of them with a calm finesse that earned a level of respect he didn’t really think he deserved. A lot of it was posturing. An insane amount of right out of the gate confidence that covered up just how much of an idiot he could actually be at times.

The confidence was all those people saw. It was his own people that knew how much of an overprotective dork he was, so it was his own people who felt most at ease around him. Like sure, he had Lola, his baseball bat riddled with nails for intimidation, and sure he’d used it a few times, but only in self-defence, and only against the most unsavoury of people.

The last one was Creel, and he hadn’t even been the one to use it.

Seeing the cause of his current insanity just… there, in the flesh, no longer in a groady fast food place uniform, looking good enough to eat well… he was only human.

Forgive him if he forgot how to word for a minute.

Luckily, once Robin recovered, she rose from her seat, rounded it, and motioned her arm as if presenting them to him.

“Steve, meet Eddie Munson and his roommate Chrissy Cunningham, tenants of the block of apartments you purchased. Eddie Munson, Chrissy Cunningham, please allow me to introduce my very own single—” she winked at Eddie, both in reference to his own earlier quip about Chrissy, and because hint hint, he’s pathetically single and clearly pining, Steve’s eyes snapped to her face, although she gave him no time to shut her up as she continued “—platonic life partner, Steve Harrington, the guy in charge.” Eddie loved her already, Chrissy was cutely hiding her smile behind her hand. “They’re here asking questions about the letter we sent regarding the rent forgiveness and renovations.”

The one she’d not looked over. The one Nancy had rushed out. The one she wished she’d have seen before it went out just to make sure she had some kind of explanation ready and waiting should anyone pop by asking questions.

“O-oh! Oh yeah, yep, I know, your door isn’t soundproof hence the uhm—the entrance, I can probably answer a few questions, maybe even get some ideas and opinions from you guys, we don’t wanna go into the renovations not knowing what our tenants need so—” he let the sentence just hang there as he motioned out toward the hallway.

“Wait so you’re not just… doing stuff randomly, you want us to basically ask you for things, and you’ll give them to us?” Chrissy asked, rising from her seat since Eddie was still a little struck stupid over the most beautiful man on the planet and the fact that he was single. Eddie was also trying to figure out where he’d seen this guy before too because that was a face you didn’t just forget.

“Well… that’d make the whole process a lot smoother, right?”

Eddie finally shook his head free of his barnacle-like thoughts to ask a very simple, “Why?” If he didn’t have Steve Harrington’s attention before, he did now, those beautiful baby cow eyes staring right into his soul, warming it up like a soul toaster oven. “Ehem—why are you doing this? Why should we believe that you’re just… doing it for the sake of doing it? Nobody is that philanthropic, especially rich people, no offense but that’s like… the opposite of what rich people usually do.” Toaster oven was just slow enough to let him get those icy thoughts out before they could be fed to it to be warmed and buttered up. God he wanted some toast.

“Key word being usually.” Steve shot back, hazel eyes dancing in amusement, criminally handsome smile on his lips, damn him. “They won’t be palaces, they won’t be penthouse suites or comparable to five star suites, but I’d like to make them comfortable, safe, I’d like to make sure the electrics work, the heating system is up to date and make sure you have all the amenities you could need, I’d ask you not to take the piss with your requests, of course… but… if it’s reasonable I’m quite happy to provide it.”

“And what do you want in return for this?” There was always a catch, a devils contract for sure, too good to be true, there had to be a catch.

Steve looked at him for a moment, smile slipping from his face as he looked Eddie up and down, then… a slow, almost deadly grin seemed to curl at his lips, damn near predatory in its appearance, it sent a shiver down Eddie’s spine, dread licking at his bones.

Evil. That was evil, he was—

“Your soul, Eddie Munson.” Holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit ho— “snerk” Steve snorted, that expression disappearing, replaced by one drenched in amusement “I’m kidding! You’re so easy, Munson. I’m not the devil, calm down.” Chrissy was giggling, the traitor, Robin looked exhausted, probably used to the antics, Eddie could feel his heart trying to escape his chest through his throat, could feel his cheeks warm in embarrassment.

“You—you didn’t answer my question.”

“I own where you live, I don’t have to answer your question.” Steve winked at him. The beautiful bastard. “I would however love it if you worked with me here. It’d just be nice for my tenants to get along with me, don’t you agree?” He was like some kind of snake, a sneaky little snake, charming but scheming “I’m also buying a local bar too, I don’t intend to change it all that much but—”

“You’re the one buying the Hideout?” Chrissy’s eyes widened, cutting him off as if she couldn’t help herself “why?”

“I want it.” So simple. He really didn’t have to answer any questions. And if he did answer, he wouldn’t give the full story. Suspicious, he was suspicious. “Owner isn’t staying on staff when the purchase goes through though obviously, I believe he’s retiring to the tropics, so I’ll need new staff, wouldn’t happen to know of anyone who needs a job would you?” A scheming, snakey snake of a man.

Eddie didn’t have to play to his tune though “Nope, I don’t know a single person in this whole world who needs a job right now thanks though.”

Chrissy didn’t share his scepticism though, happy to offer a chipper little “we just lost our jobs!”

“Traitor” he hissed.

“Oh hush, Teddy-bear, he’s harmless!” Steve grinned, oh yeah, totally harmless that one “we know a few guys who’d be great at it too, Gareth has bartending experience, remember?”

“Mixing two cocktails at a house warming party does not count as bartending experience.”

“They were good cocktails though, Eddie, you had like, six of them.”

“And I stand by the fact that each one tasted different!”

“But you LIKED them!”

“That’s not how bartending works! They have to taste the same each time!”

“Fine, he knows how to make SIX slightly different cocktails.”

Across the room, Steve leaned just a little closer to Robin just to quietly ask “is this what we look like to outsiders?”

“God I hope not” Robin knew better though, it was exactly how they looked to outsiders.

“Alright guys!” Steve stepped forwards, closer to the bickering pair. “I have quite a bit to do today as you can probably imagine, so how’s about we discuss this further over… say… dinner?” He could feel Robin’s incredulous stare boring holes into the back of his head. Ignoring it. Ignoring it. “You’re both more than welcome.” He was clearly looking at Eddie though.

“I’m busy” Chrissy was quick to answer before Eddie could object “but Eddie… Eddie is totally free, aren’t you Eddie?” His mouth still open from where she’d beaten him to the punch, now looking between them both in bafflement.

“Uhm—I… uh—heh—no, nope, nope not free, not free at all in the slightest c’mon Chrissy let’s just go home!” He grabbed her hand in a flurry of flustered panic “we’ve gotten all we came to get so thanks for the rent free living!” Steve didn’t stop him as he pulled an objecting Chrissy along with him out the door in a rush “We want a dishwasher!” He yelled over his shoulder as he pulled her down the hall to the elevator, leaving Harrington and Buckley behind, missing the exact moment when Robin whacked Steve around the back of the head with her papers, and called him an idiot.

Part 6

#PirateWrites #FindersGiversFiclet #Steddie #Mob Boss Steve Harrington #No Upside Down AU #Shady!Steve #CW: light-hearted stalker vibes

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ailithnight · 1 year

Text

*Whoops. Forgot to title and link previous chapters. Fight me, I just woke up.

A King in Arkham

Chapter 3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

"Tim. Tim you have to get me copies of this footage." Tim is not surprised by the request. In fact, the 'Sure' is already on his tongue when he pauses, a thought creeping into his head, seeded by the notification Tim really hopes Jason isn't paying attention to in the bottom corner of the computer.

"One condition."

"Fuck you, I knew you'd want something. What? You want my cookies? Coffee? For Red Hood to go on camera singing praises for Red Robin? I'll fuckin do it. Just send me the god damn clips."

"Nope, nope, and tempting, but no."

"Name your price, Replacement. I'll pay it."

"Swear you aren't going to go rush in and extract the kid until we're done investigating him."

"What!? Fuck that! I told you was pulling him out next chance I get!" Tim lets himself groan in annoyance.

"Look, anyone that could do that-" Tim gestures to the part of the screen where they'd pulled up The Joker's medical reports following the incidents, showing pictures and descriptions of just how thoroughly Daniel had beat his ass 3 weeks in a row, "without getting so much as a scratch or fucking bruise in return, has got something going on. There may well be a reason they sent him to Arkham!"

Jason's eyes narrow at Tim as he all but growls, "No reason is good enough to put-"

"A fifteen year old in Arkham. I fucking know that, Hood. But we still need to know exactly who we're dealing with when we get him out. What his deal is. If his dangerous. What the hell was so wrong with him that someone thought it was a good idea to stick him in there to begin with."

"He could get hurt while we're sitting on our asses trying to satisfy fuckin Bat paranoia!"

"He took down the Joker! Clearly he can take care of himself."

"Then who has been hurting him!?"

"Maybe him fucking self!" Tim knew he was pushing it. The green growing stronger in Jason's eyes was proof. But he needed to buy them some time before Jason made thing exponentially harder by storming the castle. Still, now he needed to calm Jason down before he went into a full rage. So Tim held up his hands placatingly.

"A few days, Jay. Just give us a few more days. I'm already almost through the Arkham reports, and there are only a handful from Chicago and Oracle is probably going to announce any minute now that she got through the communications blackout around his home town. We just need a bit more time to sort out intel so that we actually know how to help him once we get him out."

Finally, after a tense 34 seconds, green fades back into blue and Jason let's out a heavy sigh.

"Fine. But I get to tell the Bat about Daniel's discipline slips. Wanna see his fuckin face when I do."

"Deal." Tim hurriedly puts a comm in as Jason watches with narrowed eyes.

Batman.

Red Robin. Ready to fill me in?

Not yet, you're about to be busy. I isolated a pattern earlier. Exactly 15 minutes before the locks malfunction, there's been a strange power surge. Always written off. But the surge doesn't seem to be coming from the grid. And like I said, exactly 15 minutes later is when the locks malfunction.

Jason huffs as he catches on. Apparently he hadn't thought to question why Tim was so desperate to buy time before.

Robin responds, since he's on stakeout with Bruce. Mostly because Bruce won't let him watch the asylum alone. Much as the kid hates it, the rest of the family agrees. It's only a matter of time before someone in max security manages to take advantage of theses malfunctions. So far Croc is the only one who had, though thankfully he's not one to start shit on his own. But with Joker, Scarecrow, and TwoFace all inside; any one of them, or god forbid all three, could make for a real bad situation.

Tt. So you can tell before a malfunction happens.

Think so. Last power surge was 8 minutes ago.

And you are only telling us now, why Drake?

Codenames.

Cause he spent those 8 convincing me not to go get our kid out yet.

6 minutes. See if you can stop things before they start.

I'm not far out. Want me to join you?

Tt. I doubt we'll need your assistance, Signal. We shall be done before you get here.

No wait. Signal, head in. See if you can get a read on 26B.

You think he might be meta?

Hood?

Jason glares at Tim betrayed.

"I wanted to see his fuckin face."

Tim just waves him off.

"They need to know. You tell them or I do."

Boys

Jason scowls, but relents.

He put the Joker in the infirmary on his 1st, 7th, and 15th days there. All 3 times took no damage himself. Feral child had to be pulled off and still didn't stop struggling till the clown was out of sight.

All 3 assaults followed by panic attacks, though whether about the Joker himself or what Daniel had done to him, we don't know yet.

The comms were silent for a moment.

A 15 year old...

Did what you've never had the balls to old man.

...I've fought the Joker.

Daniel hits first.

Hnn

I will admit, it is impressive that he can take the Joker down alone. Perhaps he will make for a worthy brother after all.

4 minutes.

We're moving in. Thank you Red Robin, Hood.

The fuck are you thanking me for?

For helping. And giving us time to work this out.

ETA 7 minutes out. Be with you shortly.

The advanced warning proved invaluable for Batman and Robin. After alerting the chief of security of their supposed pattern, he had guards already in motion when the doors swung open. Batman took a perch to watch for max security escapees while Robin assisted the guards in keeping inmates corralled. Many didn't even bother to leave their designated areas, having already seen the Bats in the building.

No sign of any max security inmates. Normally, Batman would find this concerning. And while he did file it away to ponder later why no one from max security ever seemed to make it out of that wing, for today he counted the blessing that he would not have to try to keep Robin safe while dealing with someone like the Joker.

Batman tracked motion through the crowds, watching as a black mop of hair moved, seemingly otherwise unnoticed, through the sea of people. He thought to move in to direct the person back towards where people were being herded to, but the small figure merely walked towards the B wing and entered one of the far cells. That gave Bruce a sneaking suspicion of which patient that was. He moved to get a closer look as Signal swooped in.

"Where is he?"

"I believe he just went into his cell. This way." Batman led Signal to the cell he'd seen that tiny person enter. It was indeed 26B and there was indeed a small, too small, frail looking boy lying on the bed there. A red blotch had appeared under his left eye even though Bruce was certain there had been no injury there as the boy had crossed the hall.

Signal froze beside him, breath stuttering. The boy briefly glanced at them through the corner of his eye, mouth twitching into a brief frown. Then his eyes turned back to the ceiling and his face smoothed out. Bruce couldn't help but reach out.

"Hello." The boy said nothing. Signal opened and closed his mouth, seeming to try to say something, but unable to get words out. Batman wondered what he must be seeing. "You seem hurt. Do you need help?" Eyes flickered back to him and away just as quickly.

"Nothing you can help with Mr. Batman." And oh, how Bruce hated the kid's voice. So quiet and so so hollow. Bruce's mind flashed to his children, imagining any them speaking with such emptiness. His heart clenched, wondering what could have happened to this boy to have snuffed the life out of him so young.

Duke found his voice again, just as the doors buzzed and swung shut again.

"What are you?" Bruce frowned, looking at his latest. Who was looking, as Bruce tracked his gaze, not at Daniel but at the space just above him. Daniel himself seemed to take interest all of a sudden, breaking away his upward gaze to roll his head and look at them. Confusion plain on his face, the first hint of life shining dimly in his eyes.

"Signal? Signal, what do you see?" Batman asked. Robin materialized beside them. The daytime hero stepped forward, then back, light sparking and fizzling around his fingertips.

"There's something in there with him."

Daniel looked back up, where Signal still had his gazed trained on something Batman couldn't see. Even Robin seemed confused, though he no doubt trusted Signal's meta sight.

"Don't worry," Daniel murmured, "S'just a ghost. She can't hurt you."

This 'ghost' seemed unhappy either with the teen's words or this turn of events. Daniel's head snapped back to the side again, causing Batman and Signal to wince while Robin watched stoically. 4 red scratches appeared on Daniel's right cheek, as though he had been backhanded by someone with clawlike nails. A light chill brushed through him and Signal tensed, then relaxed, his gaze finally turning from the emptiness above Daniel to the boy himself. Batman took that as a sign that the... entity, was gone.

Daniel did not react to the obvious abuse from an invisible assailant. He mechanically turned his head back, once more dead and glazed eyes returning to the cracks in the ceiling of his cell. "You should go now. The guards will come around soon to make sure I'm still here."

Bruce wanted so badly to say 'Don't worry, we'll get you out of here.' But Batman was more restrained than that. He would get the child out. But he would have a plan first. For now, Bruce placed a hand each on the shoulders of Duke and Damien, guiding them away. Only when they were back outside did Bruce let them go. Only when they were perched on a rooftop half a block away did Batman pause.

"Robin, report."

"No escaped inmates and no sign of any from maximum security."

"Good. Signal, any information on what you saw in there." Duke rubbed at his eyes.

"A ghost, I guess? I don't know. It was weird. She didn't really have an aura. It was more like, an absence of aura. Like she was a black hole, drawing all the light in."

Even behind the domino, Bruce could tell Damien rolled his eyes.

"And what of the patient, Thomas? Was he not the one you were sent to look at?" Batman bit back the reprimand for codenames, more interested in Signal's response. Signal seemed to think for a moment, then shook his head.

"He definitely had a pretty distinct aura. It... felt powerful. But it looked weak. Dim. When the ghost... struck him, it flared up a bit, but died back down almost instantly. I... I get the feeling he was holding it back. Almost like he was afraid of it. Of himself."

"Hnn. Good job Signal. Robin. You two are welcome to head back to the cave. I'll take the rest of this Arkham shift."

At that moment, the comms crackled to life.

Actually B, you may want to come in, also. Arkham should be fine. And I found why they sent the kid there.

#A King in Arkham #DP x DC #my writing #In case ya can't tell #I have no idea what the layout of Arkham is supposed to be #So I'm just kind of imagining a tv stereotypical prison layout #Two story room with double layers cells #Congregating area in the middle #Max security off in its own section #Probably not at all what Arkham is supposed to look like #But I reckon the details can be a bit nebulous for the sake of fanfiction

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yelena-bellova · 10 months

Text

Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight: Saturday Morning

Plot: Jamie and Y/n spend an unconventional day off together.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: f!reader, language, mention of child abuse/neglect

A/N: Annndd we’re finally in it in it. A little bit of backstory, a little bit of trauma bonding and a whole lot of fluffy angst. Enjoy!!

(I also fell way behind w/ the taglist and since this series is maybe PG-13, I’m dropping the 16+ 💕)

—————

Someone was knocking on the door.

No, not knocking. Pounding.

Y/n slipped out of bed silently, as if the intruder was already inside her apartment. Bleary-eyed and stumbling in the dark, her hands fumbled for the baseball bat she kept behind her closet door. She’d had it since college and she couldn’t believe she was finally going to have to use it.

The banging continued as she walked through the apartment and down the stairs, growing louder the longer it went unanswered. Whoever was coming to abduct or rob her was clearly in a rush to do so.

Y/n steadied her breath and adjusted her grip on the bat, daring to peek through the peephole and see what she was up against.

“Wha-“ she uttered, lowering her bat and unlocking the door. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

On her stoop, Jamie was bouncing in place, “Can I use your loo?”

Y/n squinted, putting up a hand to block the bulb of Jamie’s stupid headlamp. “What?”

“Roy and I are on a run and I’ve gotta take a piss,” Jamie explained hurriedly, “You’re the only person I know in the neighborhood.”

With a heart rate well over 120 and a mind sluggish from sleep, it took Y/n a second to process his words. “I thought you were a fucking burgler,” she groaned.

Jamie whipped his hand frantically, “Is that a yes?”

Y/n was tempted to shut the door and let him take his chances with a public urination charge. Her friendlier instincts won out and she stepped to the side, letting Jamie race up the staircase to her bathroom. She shut and locked the door once more before trudging back up and setting her bat on the kitchen counter.

A moment later, Jamie emerged, calm and laughing to himself about something. “What kind of burgler knocks before robbin’ ya?”

Y/n was in no mood for his sense of humor. “It is 4-fucking-AM,” she pointed to the stove clock, “I am a single woman who lives on her own and it is 4-fucking-AM.”

“Alright, alright,” Jamie held his hands up in surrender, “Coulda texted you. I’m sorry.”

Y/n leaned against the back of her couch and wiped her hands over her face. Jamie made his way to the stairs, but was struck with a grand idea before he could take the first step.

“Do you wanna come with?”

Y/n glanced up from her palms, “What?”

“With me,” Jamie continued, “Roy. Go for a mornin’ run?”

“What part of 4-fucking-AM isn’t getting through to you?” Y/n asked, floored by his oblivion.

“Yeah, but you’re gonna be up anyway now,” Jamie shrugged, hopping from one foot to the other, “Get your blood pumpin’. Some endorphins.”

Y/n stared at him and wondered if she tried hard enough, could she kill him with eye contact alone?

“It’ll be fun,” Jamie smiled, jutting out his neck a little.

As much as it pained her to admit, he was right. There was no chance in hell she was getting back to sleep with all her senses dialed to 11. It was either tossing and turning in bed for an hour before she admitted defeat and started her day, or do something productive.

Y/n rolled her eyes and brushed past Jamie to grab her running shoes. “4 fucking AM…” she grumbled as she passed him once more.

Jamie made two victorious fists, too pleased with himself to acknowledge the fact that he’d robbed her of a precious Saturday sleep-in. She’d enjoy herself once they got out.

Grabbing a hoodie and locking up her apartment, Y/n followed Jamie out to the street where Roy was waiting on the sidewalk. Under the light of his own headlamp, he looked as confused as Y/n had moments before when he saw her trailing behind Jamie.

“The fuck are you doing here?”

“Convinced States to join us, yeah?” Jamie answered as Y/n yawned.

“I’m gonna fucking push you into the first lake we see,” Y/n glared at the back of Jamie’s head.

Roy looked between his trainee and the woman he barely knew, but respected for the threat alone. Nodding, his eyes landed on Y/n, “You can stay if you keep up.”

“No problem there,” Y/n sighed, taking off into a jog. If Jamie was going to ruin her day off, the least she could do was beat him.

Sharing a glance of amusement, Jamie and Roy ran after Y/n, into the early London morning.

—————————

It turned out to be a fair fight between Y/n and Jamie. Jamie hadn’t underestimated her, per se, but he figured her exhaustion would slow her down. She’d held her own right up against him and impressed even Roy.

“You’re fuckin’ fit, you are,” Jamie said after, the two of them having gone for tea afterwards. He quickly realized the double meaning of the word, “I mean, not like that. I mean, you are, yeah, but I mean-“

“Oh my gosh, words,” Y/n groaned, reaching with one hand to Jamie’s mouth, “Stop.”

Jamie swerved to avoid the hit, chuckling after. “You’re a proper asshole when you’re tired,” he snickered.

“Well, when I get woken up at 4AM,” Y/n glared over at the man, “No, I don’t feel particularly kind.”

The two of them strolled through Richmond, Roy having left them mere minutes ago. They’d run on and off for about an hour before Y/n had to sit through the rest of their regiment. She’d taken a great deal of joy in sitting back with Roy and yelling commands at Jamie.

“I think Roy’s gonna invite you every mornin’ now,” Jamie mused, taking a sip of tea.

Y/n faked a gasp, grasping Jamie’s bicep, “Getting to hurl insults at you? Every day? Oh, well, that’s it. Better hand Keeley my resignation.”

Jamie laughed, shoving her off him before spotting and leading them to a bench. Richmond on a Saturday morning was bustling with people, but it was a peaceful kind of frenzy. The kind you could watch and enjoy.

“Admit it,” Jamie said, sitting down, “You had fun.”

Y/n sighed, pulling her tea to her lips. No such thing would be admitted.

“Why are you even still doing this?” She asked, looking out into the park where a group of kids were kicking around a football, “Zava’s gone. You’re back to being number one. Shouldn’t you be celebrating?”

Jamie ran his fingers over his chin, she wasn’t wrong. Zava had made his unannounced exit two weeks prior. The whole reason Roy had offered to train him was to get him back to being the best. He may not have earned it, but the title had been bestowed back to Jamie. Mission accomplished.

“Think it’s more than that,” he answered, “More than Zava. I think…I know I can be better. And I wanna get there. See what I can do.”

Y/n nodded in reply, that was something she could understand. How many times had she pushed herself in school? At work? Not to beat anyone, but to know she had done her absolute best?

“Maybe it’ll pay off in Amsterdam,” she commented before taking a sip of tea. The exhibition match was just one week away.

“Ah,” Jamie smiled, “You excited?”

Y/n tilted her head from side to side in a shrug, “I guess. I’ve never been.”

Jamie’s face transformed in a split second, from content to near disgusted.

Y/n leant back, “What?”

“You’ve never been to Amsterdam?” Jamie was darn near incredulous at the mere notion.

“No,” Y/n replied, her voice jumping an octave under his judgement.

Jamie scoffed and turned away from her. “How the fuck do you live here this long and not go to Amsterdam?”

“And yet somehow, I still walk the earth,” Y/n chuckled at how bothered he was, “I’m guessing you’ve been.”

Jamie’s lips popped out very duckface-ish. “‘Course I have. Practically a fuckin’ tour guide.”

“Alright,” Y/n said, “Gimme your recommendations.”

Settling back against the bench as if he meant to stay a proper while, Jamie ran through his index. He picked through the pleasant memories, stag parties and one emergency diverted flight that ended in a particularly rowdy five star hotel evening. None of those amounted to anything stacked up against one trip taken much earlier in life.

“Gotta go to the Anne Frank house,” he began to list off ideas, “It’s super sad, but you gotta do it. There’s a really good place nearby to get stroopwafel, gotta go there. Eh, a boat ride down the canal. The tour guides driving ‘em give you all these fun facts about the architecture and the history and stuff.”

Y/n listened, it was the first time she’d seen Jamie properly excited about something. He was passionate on the field, but this was a childlike joy.

“You do remember there’s a match, right?” she laughed, “I’m only gonna end up having, like, one night.

“Then fuckin’ pack it in,” Jamie shrugged and gestured ahead of them like the country was laid out before them, “It’s Amsterdam.”

Y/n raised her cup to take a sip, “How do you know so much? You’ve really been that many times?”

“My mum took me when I were about 16,” Jamie answered, “Took me to all the historical sights and stuff. Guess it all just stuck.”

“Hm,” Y/n nodded, “What about your dad?”

What prompted her to ask, Y/n couldn’t know. She’d noticed that Jamie’s mother came up in conversation sometimes, but his father never did. Her subconscious curiosity had gotten the better of her.

Jamie felt his chest tighten at the mention of his dad. Y/n couldn’t have known anything about their relationship, he knew this. He just wasn’t sure how to reply when it was a subject he didn’t want to pick up. At all.

“Not really a thing,” he chose the safest answer, “He took me before me mum, but…wasn’t nearly as fun.”

Y/n watched his expression shift, how his eyes went from watching his fingers slide over his paper cup to the air in front of them. How Jamie was always fidgeting, but was now doing it with purpose. Worse, she recognized something about all of it.

“I’m sorry,” she backtracked, “That was way too personal, I shouldn’t have-“

“No, it’s-“ Jamie quickly held up a hand. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel bad for her innocence. “It’s fine. He’s just a,” Jamie shook his head, “Fuckin’ asshole.”

Y/n gazed down at her tea, sensing there was more that he wanted to say. Looking away not only saved her dignity, but it allowed him some quasi-privacy to say it.

“What about your folks?” Jamie finally looked back at Y/n, nudging her elbow a little.

That was worse, Y/n decided. Far worse.

“Uh,” she stalled, there was no choice but to answer, “We don’t really talk, to be honest.”

“Why not?” Jamie didn’t hesitate to ask.

Y/n inhaled deeply, blowing the air out with puffed cheeks. It was a piece of her history that she’d left in America, sending it into silent submission the second she stepped foot in London.

“We just…” Y/n shrugged, “Don’t have a relationship. Never have.”

Jamie’s brows dropped in confusion, “What’re you, like, adopted or somethin’?”

“Nope,” Y/n’s lips popped around the syllable, “They’ve just…never had any interest in their kids. Me and my sister, we kind of raised ourselves.”

“Fuck,” Jamie muttered, realizing he had definitely dug too deep. It was too late to back out though, their secrets were spilling themselves out. Better to lean into it than try and patch the all too massive leaks.

Y/n bitterly chuckled over her tea cup, “Yeah.”

Jamie absorbed what she said, leaning on his knees now. It was like he had to take a defensive position up a past that was nowhere near, yet all around him. If Y/n was going to be honest, the least he could do was match it.

“My dad and I,” he started, picking at a loose corner of the cardboard around his cup, “We kinda got in a fight. Earlier this year.”

Y/n turned to face Jamie, thinking he meant an entirely normal type of argument.

“Came back to the locker room after we lost a match,” he continued the story, “Talked a bunch of shit. Got ugly and…” Jamie hesitated, his fist feeling the phantom pain of the confrontation, “Yeah…”

Y/n’s lips parted in gentle shock, he didn’t need to finish for the meaning to come across.

Jamie could feel her eyes resting on him and found the strength to meet them. The tight smile across his face didn’t match the story, but it felt necessary. He sat back, hating the silence they were wading in.

“My parents never yelled. Not because me and my sister were perfect angels or anything, but…they just didn’t care enough to get that emotional,” Y/n admitted before she could even realize the vulnerability in which she said it with, “I mean, there was nothing we could do to even get them to pay attention to us. No recitals, no science fairs, no achievements…nothing. So long as they kept a roof over our heads and kept us breathing, they felt they were doing enough of a job.”

Jamie scoffed, bitter for both of them. “Me dad couldn’t be bothered to show up to any matches. Not when I were a kid.”

“What about when you went pro?” Y/n asked.

“Only in Manchester,” Jamie answered, “Screamin’ at me on and off the pitch that I were doin’ it wrong.”

Y/n traced the curve of Jamie’s jaw with her eyes, watching it clench. He made sense. For the first time since they’d met, he made total sense. You couldn’t go through a childhood like his and not come out with something to prove.

Their conversation became an exchange. One would share and, to make the other feel not so vulnerable, the other would chime in. “Once me and my sister could cook for ourselves, get jobs,” Y/n countered Jamie’s revelation, “My parents were even more done. It’s the main reason I came to England. To get away from them.”

Jamie was fully engaged now, his body turned to face Y/n as she matched his honesty. He knew all about running away.

“I worked so hard in school to get As, extracurricular stuff, anything I could,” Y/n gestured to the air with her cup, “So I could get out.”

“Yeah,” Jamie interjected, his memory sliding back to mornings before dawn spent on the pitch near his childhood home. He’d been just as relentless then as he was now. “Can’t tell you how many fuckin’ hours I spent just…tryin’ to get good. Tryin’ to do something he couldn’t touch.”

Whatever tolerance Y/n and Jamie had start with had long since morphed to a sort of comfortable acquaintanceship. It felt like, without ever moving from their bench, they had made some grand leap into kinship. They were both members of a club neither of them had asked to be in. With their shit spilled out on the ground before them, there was so very little left for them to hide.

“Y’know they’ve never visited me?” Y/n said softly, catching the shock on Jamie’s face out the corner of her eye, “Not once. I’ve been here since I was eighteen…not even for my graduation.”

Jamie watched with sadness as Y/n tried to hide hers. Once they found one another, it felt like there was nothing else to do but…laugh. It was one of those, this is our life laughs. Here we are, our families don’t love us, and it’s not right but here we are. Gentle and faded, but still unbelieving.

“Think we did pretty good,” Jamie said, “Yeah?”

Y/n’s smile came back, she’d allowed Jamie to cross so many of her self-drawn lines and she’d believed it had simply been out of convenience. No, there was something about him she’d only ever recognized in herself. Resilience. “Resentment’s a tremendous motivator, isn’t it?”

Jamie smirked at Y/n, wondering how he’d gravitated towards her knowing just the best, only to find out they had the worst in common. They were both a little broken, and it certainly felt better to be broken with someone else than by himself.

“I’ll drink to that,” he smiled, the two of their paper cups knocking into one another.

————————

Heartfirst Taglist: @lalla-04p @optimisticsandwichgladiator @makingmunson94 @taytaylala12 @storysimp @sokkigarden @lightninginab0ttle @poohkie90 @alipap3 @verra-nerevarine @shineforever19 @spaceagechimera @burnafter-reading @qardasngan @cyberpvnk-enthusiast @sogoodtoheritsvicious @buckybarnex @angelsunflxwer @blueanfield @thewildestwonderland @sablecities @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @strawberryacethingz @tortilla-maria1 @katdahlali @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @glitterquadricorn @jamieolivia27 @imvibin69 @katlizada @lil-tracys @fanaticalfantasist @heyitz-julia @cactajuice @peachyy-tea @notalxx @rockchickrebel @anxiety-prime-max @mentalistfan

#ted lasso imagine #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fic #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt imagine #heartfirst

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kaunis-sielu · 7 months

Text

Dangerous Places: 1

You probably should’ve let shit alone. Like, the mob expansion happening wasn’t really any of your business. At least not until they came into your neighborhood and started trying to recruit the kids you looked after.

Then it very quickly became your business.

You’ve decided if you see them talking to Peter again you’re taking your bat and you’re going to make sure they know you mean business. You don’t know what else to do at this point, no way in hell are you going to allow May’s sweet nephew get sucked into a gang. Not on your watch.

You’d seen them two days later, talking to Peter and you’d gotten pissed. It’s an African American man and a white guy with longer brown hair pulled back away from his face. You grab your bat and go flying out of your apartment. You’re on the street before you even know what you’re doing.

“Peter Benjamin Parker! You get your ass inside and get to work on your homework right now.” You snap stepping between him and the two surprised gangsters. “And you two, he is seventeen! Leave him alone!”

“Oh, a little spitfire.” The brunet says, “you wanna handle this one Sam?”

“Ma’am.” Sam starts in a calm tone but you’re not having it.

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask for you to speak to me.” You snap, “he is a child he doesn’t need to be mixed up with gangsters like you!”

“We’re not gangsters.”

“Mobsters. Whatever.” You sneer, “Get out of my neighborhood!”

“Your neighborhood?” The brunet says raising one dark eyebrow. “Listen here lady,”

“No.” You cut him off as Peter tries to gently pull you away. “Peter I swear to god if you don’t get into the building it’s your ass I’m kicking next.”

“See ya round Sam, Bucky.” Peter says and while you scowl at him at least now you know names.

“Next?” Bucky asks with a scoff, and you sneer at him. You hope that your bravado is enough to keep the two at bay.

“Woah, woah, okay ma’am.” Sam says again trying to keep you calm. You raise the bat and glare at him.

“Sam.” Bucky’s voice has gone cold, when you look over at him he’s staring at your wrist. Shit. They know. They know what that means and why you have it. “Peter. Go.” Bucky says and your heart plummets, you follow Peter, walking backwards so you can keep eyes on the two men and so they can’t rush you. You get inside and turn and run, you get to your apartment and lock the door. It’s not until several hours later that you finally breathe a sigh of relief.

You thought you were safe, after waiting for hours for something to happen you thought you were okay. Apparently they were just biding their time because you wake suddenly to two pairs of hands, one pinning your arms to your sides and the other covering your mouth with a sweet smelling rag. You try not to breathe and one laughs,

“You have to breathe eventually sweetheart. Make it easier on yourself and let go.” It’s not the voice of one of the men from today. Shit. Shit. Shit. Hopefully they didn’t tell Hydra where you were.

“Shit she’s holding out for a while.” The second voice says and this one sounds like one of the guys from earlier but you can’t be sure. You struggle a few more seconds before you’re forced to breathe or pass out anyway. You suck in a breath and your vision swims, you manage to stay conscious but feign that you’ve passed out. It’s not hard to fake since you’re clinging to consciousness as it is. The hands lift you and put you over one shoulder of one of the men and then you start moving. They carry you down the stairs and out into the night, you expect to be put in a trunk but instead they put you in the backseat and actually buckle you in.

This is not what you expected. Another body joins you in the back but this one is fully conscious. It’s the second voice.

“Buck, go to the warehouse.”

It’s a long drive, longer than you’d expected but the second that you stop and the door opens you spring into action. You unbuckle, throw the door open and sprint. Never mind that the ground is hard and sharp and you’re not wearing shoes. You’re quick and you took them by surprise but he’s got a height and strength advantage on you as a pair of arms encircle your waist.

“Got the drop on me there little Bunny.” The voice says sounding amused as he effortlessly scoops you off your feet your back pressed to his front. You struggle to get away, you’re not going down or back to Hydra without one hell of a fight, but you might as well be fighting a brick wall. It does you no good and before you know it you’re inside the warehouse and you just know you’re fucked.

Tag list:

@andahugaroundtheneck @connie326 @also-fangirlinsweden @lumar014 @loving-life-my-way @pagina16ps @emdying @dumblani @valsworldofcreativity @blackwidownat2814 @abschaffer2 @patzammit @inkedaztec @sophham @sass-masterkittenmama

#steve rogers x reader #Steve rogers #steve rogers au #imagine steve rogers #mobster au #mob boss Steve rogers #mobster!steve rogers #mob boss au #dangerous places story

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britcision · 1 year

Text

Happy WIP Wednesday everyone! Hmmmm… What do I have for you today? Is it Danny’s question?

Nope! It’s Jason! ☺️ because I’m a bad person and I like making you all wait. I will tell you though, you’re getting Waylon’s answer from his own perspective, which is why Danny’s part cuts off where it did

———————

I’ll Take The Highway ii

Jason didn’t exactly object to being led out of the bar by Harley; Danny wanted to talk to Waylon in private.

Jason had figured Danny had something to ask the guy about. He hadn’t exactly expected not to be part of the conversation, but that was fine.

He’d know if Danny got into trouble. Fuck, Danny could handle any trouble Gotham could dish out, probably. And the rogues had some basic manners; not starting shit in Freeze’s place was one of them.

Penguin might put the squeeze on and make your life uncomfortable if you lit up the Iceberg Lounge. Dr Freeze’s cold shoulder was a lot more literal, and he didn’t do “proportional response”.

So yeah, he could be cool and give Danny some space.

It wasn’t exactly a surprise that Harley wanted to talk to him either, although he still didn’t see the point. But he let her guide him around the side of the building to a back alley anyway.

“Still fine, Harley,” he said before she could get started, both hands raised in front of him.

She gave him an all too knowing look and hopped up to sit on the dumpster. Put her about a head taller than him. Not that he cared.

“Sure, kid. You’ve been goin’ through a lot though, so I gotta ask; is there anythin’ ya wanna talk to Auntie Harley about?” She asked in her sweetest voice, interlacing her fingers under her chin and batting her lashes.

Jason snickered and leaned against the other side of the alley.

Shit, he wasn’t even annoyed with her play acting. The pit was a happy little puddle in his chest, all sunshine and roses.

A week ago he’d have walked away. Been pissed at wasting his time, getting in his way. How much of that had been because of the Lazarus pits, the problems with the ectoplasm he’d apparently been supposed to be solving?

Was that why nothing had ever been enough? Why he always had to keep pushing? Carve himself a patch of Gotham, keep going. Cut the crime out of Crime Alley, not enough.

Take up with the Outsiders, keep himself busy, rushed off his feet so that when he fell into bed for a couple hours a day he didn’t even dream?

When was the last time he’d taken a breath and just… relaxed? It all felt so long ago, but it had barely been a week.

It just. His whole life had unclenched, like it was a muscle he’d finally stopped using.

Fuck, maybe he should talk to Harley about it.

He got the feeling she knew though, those eagle eyes tracking his every move. They’d never really hung out, but he was uncomfortably aware of how well she’d known him.

How much of him was still the boy she’d known?

She was waiting for an answer, and all of a sudden Jason wasn’t sure what he’d say. Knew that if anyone in the world understood, it just might be Dr Harleen Quinzel.

He sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck, unable to meet her eyes. Fuck, he was getting as bad as Bruce.

And if that thought didn’t kick him up the ass…

“You ever wake up one day and realise your whole life’s been going wrong?” He finally asked, glancing up from the corner of his eye.

She’d dropped the cutesy act, leaning forward with her arms braced on the edge of the dumpster, her face professionally calm. Open. Sympathetic.

“Think I might know just a lil about what that’s like,” she agreed softly, and Jason snorted.

“Yeah. Well. Turns out ever since I came back from the dead I’ve been haunted. Literally. And no one ever noticed.”

He hadn’t even come all the way back, but he couldn’t say that. Not yet. But maybe he could share some of the rest.

Harley nodded slowly, giving him her full attention. Just waiting for him to go on.

It kinda felt like being under a microscope, but not in the cold, analytical way Bruce did that always pissed him off. Like she really cared, and was looking for all his broken parts so she could help him fit them back together.

Fuck, if his kid self had ever known he’d one day trust Harley Quinn over the whole Justice League…

Shit, he didn’t even know how much she already knew.

“The pit rage… it’s a psychosis people get, coming out of the Lazarus pit. Makes you angry, violent, stronger, like a blind rage. For most people it goes away. Mine didn’t.”

He almost wanted to laugh, bitter and sharp.

“Because it wasn’t just the psychosis. I’m not fucking weak, I’m not fucking broken, there’s something else living inside me and it made me so fucking angry all the time…”

The frustration was building again, but this time it was his. All his, not a bubble, not a stir, and part of Jason thrilled with it. He could feel however he wanted, just him.

He cut it off though, forcing himself to relax before Danny could notice. Could worry about whatever he was projecting in his aura.

He could kinda still feel Danny’s, which was new. Not brushing against his, not touching like they were close, but he was aware in a way he hadn’t been before.

Like if he shut his eyes he could point in exactly the direction Danny was standing.

“Danny’s the only one who noticed. Well, really, he’s the only one who could. It’s a ghost thing, and he… he got me help. I feel like myself for the first time since… since I came back.”

He hadn’t even noticed how much the background rage burnt through him until it stopped. Until he could look at his family and see their prodding for what it was; concern.

It was still surprising him, and maybe would for a while. Kinda hoped not though. It wasn’t the most cheerful train of thought.

Seeing that he’d run out of words, Harley gave him a moment to find more, then reached over and ruffled his hair. It was barely a strain in the cramped alley.

“Kid, anyone with two eyeballs t’ rub together can see Danny’s real good for ya. So why’s Bruce tryin’ so hard to keep ya apart?” She asked gently, and Jason snorted.

Rolled his eyes and folded his arms, caught himself doing it, and forced them back to his sides.

“Not rubbing his eyeballs together?” He asked dryly. Harley just snickered.

“Please, if we could get ‘im ta stop overanalysing everything that’d be the miracle. So what’s got ‘im on edge?”

Jason hesitated for a long moment, thinking about it. Finally he shrugged; as always, Bruce was a mystery to him. The man who’d taught him all the tricks to pick apart any mystery. Except himself.

“No idea. We played a prank on him and the Mansons at the gala like we told you last night?” He offered, already aware it wasn’t likely to be the answer.

Harley shook her head in agreement, which almost threw him off.

“Nah, you’re right. The whole making-out-in-a-closet shtick is classic, even if he didn’t see through it yet he’s never cared about you boys smoochin’ before,” she agreed, then sighed and tugged him in to press a kiss to his forehead.

“Whatever his problem is though, it is his problem Jason, an’ what he pulled at the gala has nothin’ t’ do with you or Danny. I already told ‘im off about not talkin’ to ya and I’m gonna do it again when I catch him. Right now I just wanna hear you say you know it ain’t your fault,” she told him firmly, cheeks held between both hands.

Jason fought the urge to roll his eyes. And the rising lump in his throat.

“I know Bruce’s bullshit isn’t my fault, Harley,” he grumbled through smushed lips. Harley squeezed his cheeks a little tighter.

“Then say it anyway. It ain’t your fault Brucie has a bug in his ass, and ya ain’t done anything wrong to deserve it.” She was firm as the wall behind him, utterly unrelenting.

And she could go on for hours, if memory served. Long enough for Danny to come out and see. That was why Jason told himself he gave in.

Nothing at all to do with the way her words ached and bled a gentle warmth into the icy void in his gut where the anger still roiled.

“It’s not my fault B’s got the emotional capacity of a wet newspaper. I don’t deserve his helicopter bullshit any more than anyone else,” he told her obediently, doing his best not to be too sarcastic.

Harley placed a kiss on his nose and released him.

“That’s my good boy. Now, more about this haunted thing. You boys got a plan?” She asked sharply, head cocked as she watched his face.

Cheeks red, Jason leaned back against his wall and pretended it made him out of reach.

“We do,” he said curtly, looking down at the trash strewn ground. Trying to explain it now would take too long, Danny would be out soon.

Of course Harley noticed, nodding thoughtfully and leaning back, kicking her legs.

“Well, if ya ever want to tell me more, you’ve got my number. An’ I’ll get Brucie off ya back for a while, even if I’ve gotta call in the Boy Scout. Whatever you aren’t tellin’ ‘im, don’t let ‘im rush ya,” she told him firmly. Jason had to smile.

“Aren’t you the one always telling us to communicate?” He asked half rhetorically. Harley grinned and hopped off her dumpster, making her way to the front of the alley.

“It only works if ya wait til you’re ready. Pushin’ an’ rushin’ only makes it worse,” she explained airily, stepping out into the street.

Turning, and freezing like a hound on a scent. Eyes narrowed, she patted Jason on the chest as he stepped out after her, not turning her head.

“Jason darlin’, be a dear an’ run get Auntie Harley her bat. The bike’s parked ‘round the back,” she said ever so sweetly, and that tone combined with the narrow eyed glare meant Jason knew exactly who she was looking at before he turned.

He did it anyway, eyes widening as he caught sight of Batman, in full gear, coming down the street towards them. Accompanied by John Fucking Constantine.

Had he seriously come to chase him away from Danny in person? In fucking costume?

The anger surged, his and the pit’s, held back only by the small woman in front of him. The dainty hand on his chest, that’d turn into an iron bar if he pushed it.

Sure, she couldn’t actually hold him back, but she didn’t need to. Whatever Jason wanted to say or do to Bruce, Harley could do a whole lot worse.

Anger melding into a vicious satisfaction, he turned straight back down the alley with a spring in his step.

————

Tag List: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones s @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 5 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @trickerdi @mayoota-blog g @xysidhe @idkmrpianoman @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @perfectwastelandcreation @onyxlightdragon n @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi i @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion @redamancyardor @lyra689 @itsparadoxlacuna @alcorbearson @asphyxia778 @why-must-i-be-like-this @tkiesai @greenpyrowolf

#dp x dc #wip wednesday #danny fenton dead and loving it #chapter 15 #i’ll take the highway pt 2 #jason time!#so many people wanna take care of this lil nugget #and kick bruce’s ass

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 8 months

Note

Headcannon:

Say Erik is in a relationship and reader is the toxic baby mama ( let’s switch it up a bit ) 🤣

“Erik your baby mama is calling your phone again.”

Erik turned his eyes away from the TV for the fifth time. He was spending some quality time with his new girlfriend when Y/N decided 10 pm was the perfect time to call. He dropped off their son hours earlier and got into a heated argument because Erik finally confessed to having a new special someone.

“Are you gonna answer it, E?”

“Aight,” Erik exhaled frustratingly, “I’ll be back.”

“Don’t take too long!”

“I won’t,” Erik stood up from the couch, bending forward to plant a kiss to his girlfriend’s cheek, “Refill my glass of wine for me, baby.”

Erik strolled away and into the kitchen, hoping that he was out of ear-shot enough to talk to Y/N. Sure enough, she called again and Erik slammed his thumb down on the green button to answer her call.

“What the fuck is it?” Erik questioned with an abrasive tone.

“Who are you talking to, Erik? Don’t talk to me like you ain’t got no sense!”

Erik shut his eyes to calm himself.

“Why do you keep blowing up my phone, girl? I told you I got company—”

“I don’t give a fuck about that bitch. I need you to send me some extra money so I can finish school shopping for Jr. I wanna get him some more shoes.”

“You know we could have had this conversation another time, right?”

“Erik, I don’t care about your little girl friend. If I feel like calling you at 10 pm about your son then that’s what I’m gonna do.”

Erik glanced over his shoulder to make sure his girl was decent. She was so patient with all of this. Any other girl would have gone running but she stuck beside him.

“Aight, Aight. I’ll send you more money. I gotta go.”

“Look at you tryna rush me off the phone. Whatever, Erik. I’ll come pick up the cash tomorrow.”

“Can’t I just send it to you,” Erik rolled his eyes.

“No. You know I prefer cash.”

No. You just wanna see me.

“Whatever. I’ll be here. Text me and let me know when you show up.”

Erik hung up before she could even say a word.

—————-//—————

Y/N approaches Erik’s door with their son’a hand in hers. She was looking sexy with her hair, nails, toes, and lashes. Y/N always looked bomb. She knocked on Erik’s door since she lost key privileges and Erik opened the door shirtless. He looked very annoyed with her being their until his eyes dropped to his son who he scooped up into his arms.

“What’s up boy?! I missed you! Is that a fresh cut?! Lookin’ all sharp like your dad!”

His son smiled with his missing two front teeth. Erik kisses his forehead before stepping aside to allow Y/N to enter…and enter she did. She had a purposeful switch in her hips that made that ass bounce. Erik stole a glance at what used to be his and could be at any given time.

“Where you goin?” Erik asked with an elevated brow.

“Nowhere. Where’s my money?”

Erik kissed his teeth, “On the table. Fuck is your problem?”

Y/N snatched up the money which was more than she needed. She’ll pocket the rest.

“Thank youuuu!” Y/N bat her lashes at Erik.

“Uh-huh,” Erik sat his son down, “we need to talk.”

“About?”

Y/N made herself comfortable next to their son with her meaty thighs crossed. She stroked the curls on top of his head while staring Erik up and down.

“Why do you keep messing with my girl? She said that she saw you in the nail shop earlier today and you cussed her out?”

“Oh,” Y/N examined her nails, “She kept giving me this look and I ain’t like that. So, I dug in her shit. She think she’s all that. You need to check her before I do and you know I’m good for it. I’ll wipe the floor with her fake ass.”

“No, you won’t. Don’t start no shit, Y/N. And what’s your obsession with her ass?”

“That ass is Miami bought.”

Erik chuckles despite his growing anger.

“I better not find out she been around my son, Erik. You better not be lying to me. I swear I’ll ring your neck.”

Erik mugged Y/N with his gold slugs on display.

“Fuck outta here. You got your money, why don’t you go ahead and shop while I spend time with my son.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, ignoring Erik completely and pulling out her phone.

“It’s not a request. I’m telling you to get your ass up—”

“Daddy! Language!”

His son looked up from his tablet at Erik.

“You’re right, little man, I’m sorry.”

Erik glanced at Y/N and motioned for her to get up.

“FINE. I won’t be long I know what I need.”

Y/N grabbed her purse and walked up to Erik. She folded her arms and stared up at him with amusement.

“How long you plan on entertaining this new hoe before you hit me up?” Y/N whispered.

Erik stared her down with low eyes. He wasn’t going to do it this time.

“We ain’t going there, ma.” Erik said with a voice that wasn’t so convincing.

“You miss this, I know you do. It’ll only take so long before you realize where you belong.”

Y/N stood on her tip toes and pressed her lips against Erik’s cheek. She pulled away and dragged her hand down his chest before walking away and out the door. Erik released a long breath before joining their son on the sofa.

“Wanna watch Encanto?”

————////—————

It happened like she said it would. Erik was single again. His new girl didn’t like the fact that Erik wouldn’t let her meet his son so soon. Despite what Y/N thinks, Erik was very careful not to introduce his son to any other women so early. It had only been a month. Erik sat in his apartment after a busy weekend with his son at the Kidz Park. He was put to sleep and it finally gave Erik some time to relax.

So he thought.

A knock to his apartment door had him up and out of his seat, he strolled to the door and peeked through to find his baby mama standing there with his favorite take out food and a bright smile. Erik pressed his forehead against the door and contemplated on if he should let her in.

“Erik! Open the door! Come onnnnnn.”

“Why should I? So you can get on my damn nerves?”

“I got your favorite! Come on, daddy!”

“Y/N,” Erik spoke with warning, “don’t you got better shit to do?”

“I could be doing you right now but you keep playing.”

Erik shakes his head. He straightens his back and opened the door. Y/N was wearing those tight black shorts he liked with a white cropped tee. She had her nails and toes matching with hot pink acrylic and she smelled amazing. She didn’t tear her eyes away from Erik in a pair of gray sweats and shirtless with that sculpted body.

“You tryna tell me something, baby daddy?”

“Are you coming in or not?”

She kissed her teeth, “move your strong ass out the way and maybe I will.”

Erik couldn’t keep the glare in his eyes off of Y/N. Everyday it’s a new issue with her. A week ago he had to check her about spreading lies to her peoples about them getting back together. Three days ago she cursed him out about having a new girlfriend. Today he didn’t know what to expect.

“You can leave the food and bounce.” Erik said.

“I’m staying the night. I want some dick.”

Despite Erik’s annoyance, he laughed.

“You laughing, I’m serious. Would you rather I fuck some other dude?”

Erik cut his eyes at Y/N. She smirked at him.

“I’m not doing this back and forth with you anymore. It’s toxic as fuck.” Erik replied.

Y/N scowled at Erik.

“All we do is argue, Erik. Who doesn’t argue?”

“I can’t move on without you having a problem with every girl I end up with!”

“stop yelling at me, Erik. Not my fault you can’t get over me.

Erik counted off on his fingers, “one chick you showed up to my family’s and fought, the other chick from a year ago you keyed her car, and now I’m single again.”

“…I’m a changed woman,” Y/N said with a smile.

“Everything is a game to you,” Erik brushed past her.

Y/N grabbed the back of his sweats and yanked, stopping Erik in his tracks.

“Listen, E, I’m sorry, okay? I know I can be too much. I love you and I hate that you can’t stand being around me.”

Y/N blinked away from Erik to stare down at her feet with a solemn expression. Erik stood there watching her with an expressionless face, waiting for the water works.

“…I want us to be a big happy family. Jr would love that. We could all be together—”

“While you fuck your side dude whenever we have problems?” Erik said.

“I’m done with that!”

“No, you’re not. You just wanna have your cake and eat it too. I bet that nigga still hitting.”

Erik gave Y/N one last look before leaving her standing in the kitchen. He walked up to his door and opened it for her to leave. He wasn’t going to allow himself to fall for her ways again. It’s a habit that he needed to break. Y/N approaches him with sad eyes and an adorable pout. Erik didn’t even look at her. He refused to do it.

“I’ll have Jr. ready tomorrow afternoon. I’ll drop him off after I take him to my moms. Is that cool wit’ you?”

Y/N pressed her body against Erik’s and rested her chin on his chest, looking up at him with her big brown eyes.

“C’mon, ma. Time to go.”

She pressed her face into his chest and slowly started lowering to her knees.

“Y/N…chill out. Get up. I’m serious.” Erik spoke with a monotone voice.

Y/N hooked her fingers into the waistband of his sweats and started slowly lowering them. Erik finally dropped his eyes down to meet hers and she could see clearly that his defense was weakening.

“Still want me to go?”

Erik clenched his jaw when she kissed his semi hard dick.

“Huh? Still wanna kick me out?”

She dipped her head and opened her mouth, lips secure around his tip before maneuvering his dick into her mouth with no hands. Air escaped Erik’s nose leisurely.

“I can’t fucking stand you,” Erik snatched up her hair in his fist tightly, “I swear I can’t stand you.”

Door wide open, Y/N on her knees, Erik once again fell for his baby mama’s trap. The moment won’t last long. As soon as she’s done sucking his dick and fucking him, she’ll only piss him off and Erik will regret ever getting caught up with her for the hundredth time.

#nahimjustfeelingit-writes #killmonger imagine #killmonger fanfiction #killmonger smut

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hendersister · 9 months

Text

twilight zone (2/3)

summary: when you and steve get trapped in the upside down, you work together to survive.

pairing: steve harrington x henderson!sister reader

title 🎵: twilight zone by golden earring

<- part 1 | part 3 ->

You and Steve are stuck in the Upside Down. You both got here by going through a gate at the bottom of Lover’s Lake. Unfortunately, the gate is now being guarded by demobats and now you two need to find another gate to get back home. You believe there might be a gate at Eddie’s trailer, where Chrissy died. The trailer park is about 15 miles across town, so you and Steve decided to make a quick pit stop at your house in order to pick up supplies for the journey ahead.

You’re walking through the woods to get to your house. It’s a bit longer, but you believe it's safer. And you’re less likely to be seen by any other creatures from the Upside Down….

“So, is this how you imagined spending spring break?” Steve jokes.

“Not exactly,” you laugh, “I knew I’d spend it with you, I just thought it would be somewhere in our own dimension.”

Steve chuckles.

“Well, there’s nobody else I’d rather go to another dimension with than you,” your boyfriend tells you.

You smile and nod in agreement.

“Same. We help each other survive,” you say quietly.

You take Steve’s hand, nuzzling up to him. Nothing like the end of the world to bring you and Steve closer together. You’re both enjoying this cute little moment when-

Suddenly you see a creature in the distance. Your eyes widen. Oh fuck! You’ve seen demodogs before, but this creature appears to be much larger. It’s a fully grown demogorgon.

You drop Steve’s hand in shock.

“St...Steve,” you stutter, barely above a whisper.

You nervously nod in the direction of the demogorgon. Steve turns his head to see what you’re seeing and his stomach immediately sinks.

“Shit…” Steve curses.

Although you’ve never dealt with a demogorgon before, Steve has. It was a tough fight. Steve jumped in to help out Nancy and Jonathan, but in the end it took all 3 of them to take down the demogorgon.

The demogorgon is slowly coming closer but it doesn’t see you.

Steve really wishes that he had his bat with him. He could’ve used it to protect the two of you. He knows that he can’t take on a demogorgon without any weapons. Instead of fighting, your boyfriend is going to do whatever he can to keep you safe.

“C’mon.”

Steve takes your hand and leads you over to a nearby tree. It’s big enough for you both to hide behind. You can hear the sound of the demogorgon’s footsteps approaching.

thump

You shut your eyes. You’re so terrified that your body is shaking. If that demogorgon finds you and Steve then it’s game over, man.

No! No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!

Your heart starts beating rapidly. This might be the closest you’ve come to having a full on panic attack. Steve can tell how freaked out you are, so he protectively wraps his arms around you and pulls you close.

Thump

The footsteps are growing louder, which means the demogorgon is close.

“Hey, relax! It’s gonna be okay,” Steve whispers, trying his best to calm you down.

“I don’t wanna die. I don’t wanna die….” you breathe. You can feel your eyes welling up with tears.

"You're not going to die. I promise," Steve tells you.

THUMP

The demogorgon’s footsteps are so loud. It sounds like the creature is on the other side of the tree that you and Steve are hiding behind.

You put your hand over your mouth to muffle any screams and crying. Steve holds his breath and you. He is the only reason you aren’t crying hysterically right now. You and Steve are clutching onto each other for dear life as the demogorgon walks by the tree.

It’s so tense and quiet right now, you can cut the tension with a knife. And then-

The demogorgon’s footsteps start growing more distant. It sounds like the creature has left.

Steve finally exhales. He cautiously checks the other side of the tree. He doesn’t see anything.

“It’s gone.”

“Are you sure?” you ask anxiously.

Steve nods.

“Yeah. It left,” Steve reassures you.

You sigh in relief. Steve lets go of you. You can feel your heart beating at a normal pace again.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks with concern.

You nod before pulling your boyfriend into a big hug.

“Thank you for helping me through that panic attack. The demogorgon would’ve got me if you weren’t here. You saved my life, Steve. I love you so much! Thank you,” you say sincerely.

Steve wraps his arms around you. He rests his forehead on yours.

“I love you too,” he says softly, and then, “It’s just like you said earlier… we help each other survive, right?”

Your heart melts.

“Yeah. We help each other survive,” you smile.

#stranger things #steve harrington #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x henderson!sister reader

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civilization-illstayrighthere · 6 months

Note

143, 10, 20 - whoever fits the bill c:

143. “You like messing with my head, don’t you?” “Only because it clearly turns you on.”, 10. “Wanna see how you look when you come undone under me.”, 20. “How much do you want this?” (Thanks for asking anon! Know you sent this awhile ago so not sure if you’ll see it, but…) ( smut prompts )

Samurai-era Silverdyne, 1713 words, ~M rating

The metal door of the club swings shut with a bang. That’s not what makes Kerry flinch; it’s the following sound of it being quickly thrown open after, hard enough that it hits the opposite wall.

“Kerry!”

He doesn’t turn around for Johnny as he storms across the parking lot.

“Kerry, would you stop being a little bitch—“

Kerry ducks into the nearest alleyway. He pulls out his cigarettes; his hands are shaking from how furious he is. The time it takes for him to light his menthols makes his irritation that much sharper.

Johnny curses as he turns the corner. Standing in the open alleyway, the halogen street lights of the parking lot cast his shadow across the ground, reaching all the way to the dead-end of the wall. That’s easier to stare at then Johnny himself, his pupils blown behind his aviators, just in a tank despite the nip in the air because he had followed right on Kerry’s heels as he stormed out.

“Fucking overreaction, as always.”

Glaring, Kerry takes a short drag, exhales out a furious plume from his nose. The nicotine’s doing nothing to calm his nerves. “Yeah, me, overreacting. Not the fucker who shot out into the crowd. You could’ve killed someone, Johnny.”

Johnny stops. His momentary confusion melts away with a disparaging scoff.

“I didn’t.”

“You want me to clap? Hoo-fuckin’-ray.”

Johnny frowns.

“Would it kill you to stop being so sensitive? Nothing happened.”

This time, Kerry wants to say, but he’s still so fucking angry and he just wants Johnny to leave, so he grinds his teeth together and nearly bites the filter in two. He’s not even half as concerned as Nance is about deposits and being able to play in some shithole club again, not with the way their record sales and popularity has been spiking, but even he can admit that it was an exceptionally dumb move of Johnny’s. The gun had been aimed high, but taking out a light and raining the back corner of the crowd with glass had probably been the best case scenario for a rockerboy’s errant trigger finger. The idea of accidentally killing a fan of theirs just for Johnny’s lace-fueled power trip made him sick—

“C’mon. That’s not what you’re really mad about. Right? Admit it, Ker.”

Because it’s not like Kerry ended the set after the shot. It’s not like he made a stand and stormed offstage. They finished the show. Went back to the green room. Cracked open what was left of the liquor in their room and a few more sent by adoring fans too stupid to be scared away by any of Johnny’s petty antics.

“We should play spin the bottle,” one of the groupies giggled. She was blonde, big tits, and dumb enough to think Johnny could care about her past how good she rode cock. Just his type.

Kerry never felt any jealousy towards them; fuck, he liked having a guaranteed warm body, too. Had a handsome woman lying across his lap, high as a kite and purring against his lower stomach as he pet over her buzz cut. Johnny always liked to think the world revolved around him; that Kerry, at any moment, was pining after him the same way he did those first few months in the band.

And yeah, maybe Kerry still would’ve slept with Johnny. He was his best friend. In some dream world where Silverhand wasn’t so aggressively straight, and didn’t only get off on his humiliation when it came to Kerry. But he didn’t have notions of maybe-possibly luring Johnny by wearing his pants two sizes too big real low on his hips, playing in that perfect way under the spotlight that’d make Johnny want to fuck Kerry in the green room after, batting his lashes and playing with his hair.

He wasn’t seventeen anymore. He didn’t have some little kid crush. Johnny was the juvenile one. Johnny laughed when he spun the bottle and it landed on Kerry. Crawled across the circle him and Denny and Henry and all the random clinger-ons of their fame and talent had made. His knee hit the bottle and it spun out across the floor somewhere; Kerry didn’t see it because he could only watch Johnny on his hands and knees moving towards him, the top two buttons of his pants undone because the big-titted girl by his side kept playing with them all faux-coy. And he knew what he was doing, his hair still mussed from the show hanging in his face, practically slithering up to Kerry. He smelled like sweat, distinctly Johnny and achingly familiar from their years sharing squats and tour buses and beds. His breath, that smelled like whisky, and he only knew that because he got close enough that Kerry could smell it, could breathe it in. Johnny smirked, devastatingly mean and knowingly attractive, achingly good looking in only the way a rockerboy with dark circles under his eyes and his lips quirked in a sneer could. The only way Johnny could.

And then Johnny kissed him.

Johnny kissed him. He got Kerry breathless. He got him so turned on, a fucking puddle in his hands. And when he pulled away, he shoved Kerry’s shoulder and he turned around, and he looked at everyone in the room— he looked at that groupie, that girl that was everything he wasn’t, the one he actually wanted to have under his hands— and he laughed.

Yeah. Yeah, Kerry was mad. He takes one last drag of his cigarette, throws the butt on the ground and stomps it out under his heel.

“You like messing with my head, don’t you?” He spits.

Johnny doesn’t answer right away. Humorlessly, he chuckles. Shakes his head. His shoulders lift, somewhere between hopelessly conceding and a silent laugh.

Finally, he says, “only because it clearly turns you on.”

Kerry’s hands clench by his sides, lip curling. “Fuck off, Johnny. I’m not playing your stupid games.”

Stalking forward, Johnny closes the distance between them. Kerry shakes his head. He doesn’t want to look him in the eye. He’s going to hit him.

“Go back inside.” He says.

“You don’t want that,” says Johnny.

What Kerry wants is to go back in time and push Johnny away. Laughed at him and told him to fuck off then when he was kneeling there in front of him. Instead he stared, dumbfounded, arrested in place. When Johnny grabbed him with his metal hand buried in the roots of his hair, yanked a little, tugged a lot, Kerry went easy. He bared his neck. Moaned easy, too. It wasn’t his fault. He was kind of drunk, too. Not as much as Johnny must’ve been, to be doing shit like that in front of so many people and the band.

Johnny steps forward. Kerry steps back. He juts out his chin. Tilts his head up so he’s glaring right into his bloodshot eyes, noticeable even behind the cover of his aviators.

“Fuck. You.”

Johnny takes another step forward.

Kerry’s so fucking angry, he’s so fucking done, and Johnny takes another step forward and so does Kerry this time, throwing his weight into the punch that hits Johnny square in the face. It sends him stumbling back. Kerry’s knuckles throb.

Doubled over, Johnny laughs. When he rights himself, there’s blood in his smile; split lip, to match Kerry’s split knuckles.

Johnny doesn’t have to lunge, doesn’t have to move with any urgency. Kerry stands there and Johnny just grabs him. His chrome hand cinches like a pair of handcuffs around his wrist, a sharp point against the bone.

When Kerry doesn’t move, he just pushes into him; even digging his heels into the concrete doesn’t give enough purchase not to stumble backward, not with Johnny wrenching his arm out and upward. It throws him off balance— the wall catches his back, brick rough where his shirt rides up a little and Johnny pins him there.

Johnny’s thigh cages him in from the front, wedged right between his legs, pressed firm against his cunt.

This is new. This is the furthest he’s ever pushed it. It’s all body warmed leather against body warmed leather, no boxers in-between. Kerry exhales shakily, managing to still glower up at Johnny.

He’s got blood smeared over his bottom lip. Kerry hates that he wants to taste Johnny’s lips again. Before, back in the green room, he tasted mostly like alcohol. When he sucked on Kerry’s tongue, dug his fingers into his hair, he tasted exactly like he thought Johnny always would.

“How much do you want this?”

Johnny’s voice is all low, gravel under the tires of that hotshot Porsche he just bought and the way he growls in the mic after twelve straight hours awake on blow and whisky. Kerry wants it. Johnny knows it. He doesn’t have to ask, and he sure as fuck doesn’t have to answer; but he does, because he’s Johnny Silverhand, and he’s always been an unrepentant dick.

“Answer me.”

“Yeah?” Kerry tries, “how much do you want it, Johnny? ‘Cause you’re the one who came outside and followed me.”

The corner of Johnny’s mouth twitches. Like he hadn’t expected Kerry to still fight back— like maybe he liked it, or couldn’t decide either way. He pulls his arm a little further up, until Kerry’s shoulder twinges, pinning it to the brick above his head as he leans in; he stops when their foreheads butt together, lips an inch apart. When Johnny opens his mouth, Kerry’s close enough to hear the sound of his lips parting, of his tongue wetting his lips before he speaks. Slow, measured, so that every single word sinks under Kerry’s skin:

“Wanna see how you look when you come undone under me.”

Kerry sucks in a breath like a gunshot. His cunt throbs.

“You’re drunk, Johnny.”

Johnny smirks. His ‘ganic hand settles against his hip, right under where his tank rode up and his pants were riding real low, and makes him flinch in surprise.

“You’re—“ Kerry croaks, and his voice traiterously thins when Johnny’s thumb rubs over his hipbone, then dips down to trace the waistband of his pants, “fuck you—“

Johnny kisses him; without an audience, without a spotlight.

#silverdyne #johnny silverhand #Kerry eurodyne #cp 2077 #cyberpunk 2077 #just something a little quick as a break while writing something else… thank u for asking (forever ago) anon!#wat do you guys think… should i continue this >:)a

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chelseeebe · 2 years

Text

complex.

wanted to write something sad abt steve n this was what just came out, it’s only short and i wrote it in like an hour but it had to come out.

complex - katie gregson-macleod was heavy inspiration for this.

the breakup hadn’t been the nicest of breakups, in fact it had ended rather suddenly after you’d had enough of sweeping his shit under the rug.

although you’d tried to be steve’s friend after the breakup, it was showing itself to be far too heartbreaking. having to watch him flirt with every moderately attractive woman that give him a modicum of attention was just cruel.

see, the problem with steve was that he was incapable of opening up to you. you’d heard vague stories about government labs and russian spies and you knew that steve was somehow involved, but whenever you’d question him about it, he’d brush you off. say it didn’t matter now.

but it did. it very clearly did. to you, it was obvious that steve needed therapy, or to even just speak to you about what was going on up there. but he wouldn’t, instead he’d block it all out with partying. choosing getting wasted over opening up.

and you were there to pick up the pieces, every, single, time. like the time when he got so hammered, he’d punched his dad in the face and got thrown out of his house. or perhaps the time when he’d had the bright idea to drive to your house after a party, crashing into the ditch just outside of your estate.

you were always there, taking him in, speaking to his insurance, hell, you even calmed his dad down enough to let him move back in.

but, that wasn’t enough. if you were going to be the maid to steve’s problems, you needed to at least know why he was acting like this. even just a hint of an explanation to his behaviour would have helped rationalise everything in your head.

the thing was, it’s not like steve didn’t talk about it. he spoke about it with his friends, the group of children he’d somehow accumulated over the years. and he spoke about it with nancy.

‘babe, you just.. you wouldn’t get it. and nancy, nancy was there, she went through everything i ever did, it’s just easier.. and i wanna protect you, you don’t need to hear about all that shit.’ he’d justify his actions to you.

and it worked, for about six months. but you were sick of it, sick of having to collect him, absolutely belligerent, from some high school party. sick of having to just smile and nod when he’d tell you he was going to see nancy. sick of having to clean up whatever mess he’d made the night before. it was fucking exhausting.

so, the day after one of steve’s worst performances, where he’d got far too wasted and decided to go missing for hours on end. you decided you were done, you couldn’t deal with it anymore.

‘steve.. steve! wake up!’ you nudged him awake, he was sprawled over your couch, his usual sleeping place when he’d come in drunk.

he groans, a hand shooting to cover his eyes, ‘christ, just give me five more minutes, i feel like shit.’

‘no, steve. i’m done. you need to get the fuck off of my couch and go somewhere else. i’m done.’ you stand above him, arms crossed over your midriff.

that had woke him up, ‘what? what do you mean? baby, i’m-i’m sorry, i just drank too much, you know how it is,’ he’s sat up now, running a hand through his messy hair.

‘yeah, well i’m sick of it steve. you need to get out of my house, find someone else to baby you because i’m not anymore.’ you gather his shoes, which he’d kicked off rather aggressively last night, and drop them in front of him.

‘are you serious? you’re breaking up with me?’ he looks up at you.

you refuse to meet his eyes, knowing that all he had to do was bat those eyelids and he could have you wrapped around his little finger once more.

‘yes, steve. that’s what done means. i’m done with you, i’m done with your bullshit and i’m done being the one running around cleaning up your mess.’

that last part wasn’t technically true, as you did now have to clean up the mess he’d made in your living room the night previous.

‘what the fuck? what the fuck?! you’re breaking up with me because i like to go out? you’re pathetic.’ he spits back at you, slipping his shoes on his feet.

suddenly, you’d felt brave enough to meet his gaze, until he stood up and immediately towered over you. it’s not that you were scared of him, but he had the height advantage over you and god knows he could be very intimidating.

choosing to just nod at his choice words, you had nothing left to say to the boy. anything you ever could have said to him was redundant, he didn’t want to hear it so he wouldn’t have.

you handed him his jacket and walked over to open your glossy front door.

this was the point it had actually clicked in his head that this wasn’t just another fight about his drinking habits, this was it.

‘i’m sorry, i didn’t mean that.. give me another chance and i swear i’ll get better, stop going out so much..’ he’d walked over to the door, practically begging you to change your mind.

‘goodbye steve. see you around, maybe.’ and with that you give him a slight push out of the door and shut it behind him with a slam.

you’d heard through your group of mutual friends that steve was now more out of control than ever. and it hurt. your heart twisted with every tale of his antics, knowing that he was now on his own to deal with the mess.

you had tried to salvage some kind of friendship with him, but it was useless. he wasn’t interested in ever being your friend.

through all of this though, steve had somehow found another girl to fall back on. another girl to take advantage of.

at robins birthday party, you’d tried to speak to him again. just a pleasant ‘hello, how are you?’ hoping to at least gauge how he was doing.

you were met with a stale faced glare from his new toy, it was apparent that he’d only told her about the bad parts of your relationship, choosing to skip the countless times you’d saved his ass from drowning.

‘i’m great, thanks.’ he snapped back.

yeah, you look it.

he looked terrible, his eyes were tired, his usually perfectly styled hair messy and overgrown. you debate quipping back but bite your tongue, there was no point in ruining robins birthday over arguing with your ex.

instead you chose to do what you had done for the entirety of yours and his relationship, smiled and ignored it.

he was no longer your problem. you were free, free from his pain, it was now his to try and decipher.

and eventually, you’d get over him. you’d stop loving the absolute mess of a man.

but he wasn’t sure that he’d ever stop loving you. the regret of losing the one person who had genuinely loved and cared for him played too heavy in his mind.

#steve harrington angst #steve harrington x you #steve stranger things #steve harrington #stranger things x you #steve harrington sad #mean!steve harrington

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natskys-w · 5 months

Note

Hello.. Can you write a Grayson Hawthorne story where he starts feeling sick in the middle of a foundation event? Maybe then Oren/Alisa/one of his brothers will notice and take care of him..

Can l write? No no can't... Did l try yes

You have been warned from this point forward, proceed at your own discretion ⚠️

A soft clink of a glass brought brought the chatter of the hall to a soft murmur over excited tables eager to hear the opening speech

Alisa voice rang clear and warmly over the speaker.

“Welcome, it is wonderful to see so many familiar faces joining us for the birth of this heart felt project that has been years in the making“ She smiled brightly at the guests, then turned her gaze to the Hawthorne table letting her pride shine through before continuing with the speech.

At the Hawthorne table things where going as planned, in order not a hint of chaos or mayhem… of course. Yep not a hint of chaos

Grayson prepped to join Alisa, Jameson waved and gave dazzling smiles to guests that looked to them. Avery listened intently also ready to speak, Xander discreetly fed his recently acquired friend that nestled in his pocket. Whilst Nash distracted Libby from getting nervous with an origami puzzle trick.

Grayson went over his speech softly murmuring and repeating it to himself in order to get his head in the game. He would not let a stupid flue get in the way of all the hard work that went into ensuring this gala was a success anything less then perfect was unacceptable and it was his responsibility to represent his fami- damn it this hall was hot, how was nobody sweating was he sweating. The sharp drilling pain in his head grew as the crowd clapped at something Alisa said.

Wait was it his turn? No no to early, maybe-

“Gray, Grayson, are you okey? You don't look to good… “

Averys voice brought him back, everyone concerned gaze was on him. Nash leaned towards him

“Hey you wanna take a minute”

“No, I'm fine” he replied his stomach did a backflip

“You look like a soggy egg sandwich that's been left in the sun.” Xander quipped

Nash got up to go round Greysons side

“That's it come on up ya go” He hauled him up like a sack of potatoes “let's take a little trip to the bathroom before our table and flowers go from lilac white to muddy yellow.”

“I'm fine”

“Yeah yeah, come on.” Nash said as he discreetly led him away to the bathroom.

“What the hell did he eat?”

“Maybe we should go with him”

“Is everyone looking at us it feels like everyone's looking at us.”

“psst Jameson, look at the picture l took, he looks like the Jack Nicholson in the snow meme ”

“Everybody stay calm” libby chirped in a sing song voice trying not to panic.

“Libby seriously it's fine, l'm sure Greyson will be back soon l'll take over for Gra- AW what thefuck-”

Jameson swore bringing up his blood finger

“Xander?” Jameson asked

“Mmh”

“What just bit me?”

“Mr Gizmo Wayne Hawthorne the I”

“And what exactly is Mr Gizmo Wayne Hawthorne the first?”

“I believe he's a fruit bat although he's the size of a kitti's hog nosed bat. Interesting enough the-”

“You brought a bat!” Avery squeaked lowering her voice when the table next to them gave them a curious look and Alisa gave them a jovial nervous glance and made a joke that drew everyone's attention back to her.

“Why is he even here? He's ugly, rude and may have more disease then the CDC. What if he's what made Grayson sick?“

A little nose and beady eyes glared at Jameson from Xanders pocket and made a series of grumbling sounds.

“Oh Lord, l need to go warn Nash.” Libby dashed off

“Hey! For your information he has a clean bill of health, l checked him out myself. Thank you. As for why he's here he's family, plus thanks to the project, the research facility he came from is shut down and no longer needed. Look at that little face, would this face not encourage you to donate”

Avery wrapped Jamesons fingers and peaked at the wound trying to be as gentle as possible.

“Xander?! Okey guys thats it, we're all heading to the toilets. We need to disinfect your wound, let Nash and Oren know what's going on and get Mr Wayne whatever his name away, far away from the guests.”

They scurried off to the bathroom, where upon opening the men's room the sound of someone violently throwing up greeted them. Libby leaned against the sink as she bit her nails, looking into the fancy stall where Nash was holding Graysons head back and rubbing his back softly on the floor.

Like he did when they were children.

“Xander, l ALWAYS KNEW you would KILL ME just not like THIS” Greyson grumbled

“Remember what mum always says negative emotions. Will make you sicker, exhale that negativity on three.” Xander replied as Nash gave him a warning stare.

“l can just see the headlines, Hawthorne heirs taken to soon by deadly infection… maybe ebola or Marburg… with how Grayson is looking…

Cause of death rat with wings”

“Your not helping.” Nash reprimed

“Besides aren't we getting ahead of ourselves-”

“See thank you, that's what l've been saying, sorry go on” Xander interrupted

“As l was saying, before we call the CDC again let's go through all the steps. I already informed Oren, Libby has the emergency bag, We're running our blood and what we can test for has come back negative so Jameson, no you do not have Marburg or Ebola. Someone's already on the way to double check, okey?” He said as he got more tissue to wipe Some of the sweat off Grayson and rested him on his shoulder.

Avery finished off washing Jamesons hand and was dealing with the wound as he asked

“Nash?”

“Jameson, yes”

“If we're quarantined, can it be in the LA station?”

Avery gave him a light shove.

“Jameson what did l just say!”

“What it could still be Ebola or something new given Mr Gizmo Wayne hawthorne the I previous home.”

“He has nothing to do with this” Xander protested, bringing him out of his pocket and cradling him to his chest. “He's probably cleaner then anyone in this room.” He murmured cooing at his little friend, that Grayson glared at.

“We're gonna die and a movies gonna be made about this day, with Xander as patient 0 like that Contagion movie” Grayson groaned “l need to go give me speech.”

“Grayson seriously not you to”

#Grayson hawthorne fanfic #the hawthorne brothers #the inheritance games #Hawthorne fanfic #just mess and chaos

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dreamersparacosm · 2 years

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congrats on 3k! can i request smut 5. “i want to fuck you against the glass so everyone can see how good you take it” with austin butler please

i want to fuck you against the glass - austin butler

note ; omg i have been waiting for someone to bring up this prompt ‼️ had to call the horny police up for this one bc whew. like imagine u teased him all night at cannes and he finally gets home to have his way with you and you fuck against the glass sliding door of your balcony so everyone can watch can i get a hell ya for dom!austin

warnings ; suggestive language, penetration

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

something about seeing your boyfriend being recognized for his talent had you completely soaked. to put it mildly, you were in heat after watching his new film, elvis. you two had traveled halfway around the world to attend the cannes film festival, and you were both proud and excited to be there with him as he took the next step in his career. sure, you were sentimental and all, but that didn't stop you from attempting to stick your hand down his pants every chance you got.

he had given you stern looks, hoping that would be enough to calm you down. however, you might have crossed the line when you kissed down his neck at the afterparty, whispering ‘take me now.’ austin had it up to his ears in desperation, having to readjust himself in front of too many a-list celebrities. he all but dragged you by your arm out of the venue and into your limo, and you had kicked your feet in delight, giggling at how easy it was to get your way.

the skin around your arm where he previously had a firm grasp on was bright red, and he continued to drag you up to the penthouse suite of your hotel until you finally, finally got to your bed. before you even had a chance to bat your eyelashes flirtatiously and tease him even more, he crashed his lips against you, a gnash of teeth, tongues, and desire.

you moaned into the kiss, arms reaching out to grab whatever was near. you two tumbled backwards, flying through the room as he undressed you quicker than he ever had. his lips were still glued onto yours as he unbuckled his belt, pants dropping to the floor. you hadn’t even realized what part of the room you were in until your back came into contact with the glass sliding door of your balcony. your need for air caused you to pull away from him, lips swollen and pink. his eyes turned dark, unfamiliar from his usual ice blue orbs.

“you wanna act like a whore, you’re gonna get fucked like a whore,” he spoke against your lips, sending tingles down your spine and to where you desired him the most. “turn around, baby.”

your eyes widened at his request, gulping in excitement as you obediently turned yourself around. your handprint marked the see-through door, the lights of the cannes night sky casting across the horizon. you felt the tip of his cock run against your soaking folds, and you gasped at the contact, little whimpers of pleasure flying from your lips. “so cock-hungry today, [y/n],” he sneered, although he loved every moment of it; the way you were intoxicated by the way he fucked you.

“austin, p-please,” you whimpered as he peppered light kisses to your bare shoulder.

“i’m gonna fuck you against the glass,” he spoke lowly, pushing your hair away from your body to press more kisses at the nape of your neck, “so everyone can see how good you take it.”

and with that statement, he pushed his length into you, bottoming himself out and filling you up the way you had needed him to. he began with long, brutal strokes, so you could feel him entirely.

as you both moaned out strings of profanities, your hands clawing at the glass door, he thought to himself, what a good girl.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

join the celebration here!

#answered #angelina’s 3k extravaganza #butlersluvr #austin butler #austin butler blurb #austin butler fanfic #austin butler x reader #austin butler smut #austin butler imagine #austin butler angst

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pickledpascal · 6 months

Text

Lover

Chapter Two: You Need to Calm Down

Warnings: was meant to be fluff kind of turned into a whump, drunk jensen/nesnej, sexual themes/jokes

Word Count: 3.7k

Lover Masterlist

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Jensen never thought he'd have a bachelor party again. Well, to be fair, he never thought he'd be getting married again. And like most marriage traditions, a bachelor party was needed. However, he drew the line at strip clubs. Not only did he not need Avery thinking he was cheating on her in some capacity but Jensen truly had no desire to even look at other women besides his fiancée.

So, as Jensen's best man, Misha simply treated him to a hole-in-the-wall bar so he could get drunk out of his mind. Strangely, it was the same one Jensen came to with Avery. Andrés was manning the bar again.

About an hour into their little endeavor, Misha started to notice Nesnej was coming out. Jensen had been downing shots with Misha's encouragement while Josh and Mercer simply watched, amused. Whatever was in them—it was a tequila but Misha didn't know what kind—was strong because Jensen wasn't a lightweight. When he said he could drink like Dean, he wasn't lying.

Eventually, Jensen made his way onto the dancefloor where Rich and Rob were. They weren't exactly dancing, just talking with each other with a bit of a sway in their step so Jensen decided to join them. He stumbled a bit as he danced, not horribly, not enough for Misha or the rest of the guys to be concerned for him.

Then a song came on. Back On 74 by Jungle. Jensen's lip began to quiver. "Avery listens to this…" He started getting choked up, tears welling at the edges of his eyes.

"Woah, Jensen, buddy, what's up?" Rob patted his back when he noticed he looked sad. Not just sad. Devastated. "You alright?"

Jensen wiped at his eyes a little and shook his head. "I miss my wife," He whined in a light slur. "I wanna see her." Something about him being drunk made him feel sappy and immensely sad he was nowhere near his fiancée. "Can we go see her?"

"No, bud, I don't think we can." Rob said as gently as possible, rubbing his shoulder slightly.

As soon as the words left his mouth, Jensen broke down crying. His shoulder started to shake with his sobs and he almost dropped to his knees before Rob and Rich held onto him to keep him on his feet.

Misha came rushing over with Jacob and Josh behind him. "Woah, what the hell happened?" The bar was crowded enough they didn't bat an eye at a grown man breaking down crying.

"I want my wife." Jensen pouted, tears still rolling down his cheeks.

Misha swallowed. He didn’t want this night to be ruined just because Jensen was bawling his eyes out about how he couldn’t be near Avery. "Okay, uh, yeah. We can take you to her."

Like a switch, Jensen's eyes lit up. "Really?" He took a breath.

Jacob looked at Misha weirdly. The older man motioned for him to call his sister. Jacob pursed his lips and then sighed as he tried to find a more quiet place in the bar.

When Avery picked up the phone, it was after a couple tried and Jacob could hear a Beyoncé song on the other line. It was more muffled than he expected. She had to be in the bathroom or something. "Wassup, kid, having too much fun?" She asked. He could hear the smirk in her voice.

Avery and her friends were at a queer bar. It was Drag Race night so there were a lot of popular queens. Jacob couldn't blame her for not picking up at the first ring or even the third.

"Jensen's having… a moment," Jacob said, glancing back at Jensen. He looked to be on the verge of tears again.

Jacob could hear Avery shifting her phone to her other ear. "What kind of moment?"

"Well, uh," Jensen had made his way to the bar top with the help of Josh and Rob. Rich and Josh switched places. "Can we come to you? You'll be able to see."

"Woah, okay." He could hear the surprise in her voice. "Yeah, sure. But, um… can you tell me what's going on?"

Jacob shook his head with a laugh as he watched Jensen sob on Misha's shoulder. "He misses you. A lot."

Avery got off the phone with her brother a little after that and went back into the club. They had a booth near the stage. No one was up there at the moment, needing a little time between performers which gave a lot of other queers in the club a chance to dance.

"What happened?" Elena asked, taking a sip from a cherry-flavored mocktail.

"Jensen got royally hammered. And apparently was begging to see me to the point he started crying." Avery explained as she slipped back into the booth. She took a sip from her drink.

Tessa started laughing, shaking her head. She didn't imagine Jensen was that whipped on Avery but, then again, there were no words for the magnitude of how much Jensen was in love with her.

After a few minutes of talking among her friends, Avery spotted Jensen and the guys walking through the door. He was stumbling and mainly relied on Misha to stand upright. She had to stifle a laugh. Her first full glimpse of Nesnej. She'd seen glimpses of him almost tipsy but not to this extent.

As Jensen and Misha made their way to their booth, Jensen's eyes widened at the sight of Avery. "Who's that?" She could hear him whisper to Misha. Avery was surprised Jensen got this drunk. Enough for him to forget they were in a relationship. "Are you single?" He rasped.

"Uh, no. Not exactly." Avery answered, an amused smile on her lips.

Jensen's eyes started leaking with tears again. "You're not?" He sniffled, not even trying to fight the tears. Jay and Elena had a fit of giggles while Tessa threw her head back in a full laugh. Their other two friends, Maddie and Mackenzie were trying their hardest not to laugh.

"Yeah… I got a finacée." Avery smiled softly as Misha let Jensen fall into the booth next to her. "He's pretty cute," She wrapped an arm around his shoulder. Jensen involuntarily pushed his face into her shoulder, taking a deep breath of her body wash. She always smelled nice. This time, similar to how he would imagine a cactus fruit would smell. "Has the most gorgeous green eyes, symmetrical freckles, a nice beard." Avery brushed her knuckles against Jensen's jaw, feeling the scratchiness of his beard.

Jensen lifted his head. His brain took a moment to fully boot up as he thought about who that could be. "Is he… me?"

Avery chuckled and nodded. Jensen's eyes widened before he dove in for a kiss. Avery could taste the tequila on his lips. The kiss itself was sloppy and haphazard, bad enough that Avery had to pull away and wipe her mouth. He frowned at her, burying his head back in her shoulder.

"It's weird to see him so cuddly. Not to say he wasn't already but this is different." Mackenzie whispered to Tessa.

Elena heard and nodded at them. "Imagine having to basically live with them."

"Oh, yeah, they're insufferable sometimes." Jay agreed, shaking their head. "Oh, Avery I love you ever so much! I'm gonna take your cock so far down my throat!" They mocked, grabbing onto Elena as if she were Avery.

Tessa snorted, shaking her head while Mackenzie's mouth hung open. She was shocked but amused nonetheless.

Avery stared at them, giving them a death glare before her attention was captured by the lights in the club dimming. The stage was lit and out came Sasha Colby. Avery's eyes widened. She came out wearing some sort of jeweled bra and panty set that hugged her figure in all the right ways. Her hair was a fiery ginger color, long enough that it stopped just above her lower back.

Sasha Colby was one of Avery's first queer crushes. She partly blamed it on the fact that Sasha was a trans girl too.

Feeling compelled, Avery climbed over Jensen to get a spot nearer to the stage. The man went to stand to follow her, reaching a hand out but was immediately pushed back down by Josh's hand. "You can barely stand, man." He then motioned for Mackenzie to grab some water for their brother. She nodded and went to the bar.

Jensen pouted as he watched Avery have a religious experience. He wanted to be the object of her affection. All the time. He wanted her touch, gentle and careful across his skin. The way her thumb brushed against his cheek, tracing his freckles. Or how she'd hook her finger under his chin for a kiss. It was able to bring out parts of him he hadn't thought were possible before.

Seemingly, Sasha noticed her immediately among the other queers in the front of her. All of them were screaming and clamoring for her attention while she danced. Sasha touched Avery's face, lip-syncing straight to her.

Taste me, drink my soul

Show me all the things that I shouldn't know

When there's a blue moon on the rise

It felt like everything and everyone else had just melted away. And then Sasha planted a kiss to Avery's forehead and, just like that, she was gone. Onto the rest of the performance. Avery's knees felt weak and she tried her best to keep herself standing. Religious experience? More like she reached Nirvana and her spirit was taken out of her body before it was thrust back inside.

—---

Dealing with a drunk Jensen proved to be a lot. Avery was glad Elena had driven and was sober so they could be driven home. Jensen had his hands all over Avery on the drive back to their apartment as well as on the elevator ride. He tried kissing at her neck once they were inside their apartment but his coordination was off to the point Avery could easily push him off.

"C'mon, honey, you need a bath." Avery hoisted Jensen up, holding his waist against her side as she guided him into the bathroom. For quite the big guy, he was slippery when he wanted to be.

Jensen pouted. "Sweetheart," He whined as Avery set him on the closed toilet seat. "I don't need a bath."

"You smell like tequila and you need to get a little sober before bed." Avery countered, brushing a hand through his hair which he immediately leaned into. Was she like this when she was drunk? Jensen hadn't said much about her little stunt at graduation, just that he helped her into bed for the night. "Now, I'm gonna run the water then help you get undressed. Okay?"

Jensen bit the inside of his cheek with disappointment but nodded. "You're so pretty…" He sighed, watching as Avery rolled up her sleeves and twisted the knob on the shower.

Avery couldn't help the smile that made it onto her lips. Years ago—maybe even just last year—hearing that from Jensen would've made her collapse. She turned to face Jensen again and pressed a kiss to his forehead, cupping his face. "You're pretty, too." She started to slide her hands down to the buttons of his shirt and began to undo them.

"You think so?" Jensen's voice wasn't teasing, it was fond and a bit hopeful. Something about what happened back at the club made his drunk mind jealous. Jealous that Avery would rather be with Sasha than him.

Avery stopped fiddling with the buttons once they were all undone. "Of course I do." She looked into his eyes, seeing something she didn't like. Her eyebrows furrowed. "Honey, what's wrong?"

"I-I dunno," Jensen glanced down at his lap, his voice shaky. He tried to push whatever he felt down but he felt another wave of tears coming on. Avery tilted his head up to look at her and he crumbled. "W-Would you rather be with a girl than me?"

Avery blinked. Maybe she was a bit too into Sasha but it was Sasha Colby. She couldn't help the way she felt in the moment but that was nothing compared to what she felt every day with Jensen. "No, no, no, Jensen. Of course not. I like girls and I like Sasha but I don't know her. Not like I know you." Avery caressed Jensen's cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. "You're special to me, honey. You're so sweet and gentle like… I don't know, a bear or something. You're beautiful, too. I love you so much. So much. Sometimes I feel like my chest might explode." She admitted softly, pursing her lips.

"Look at me, please," Avery whispered. Jensen complied. His eyes fluttered open to meet hers, jaw clenching slightly. "You know I love you, right? I was just a bit starstruck. You are the only person I want to get married to. The only person I want to spend the rest of my life with. You being a guy or girl doesn't fucking matter. You know that?"

Jensen swallowed thickly and nodded. He knew that but there was a part of him, the sober him that wondered that very thing from time to time. But it was put to rest. Avery frowned as she pulled him close, holding the back of his head. He breathed her in, wrapping his arms around her body as he squeezed her tight.

"I know," Jensen sighed softly, more as confirmation to himself. "I know."

Avery pulled away slightly, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Help me get your clothes off?" She asked gently as Jensen let her go. "You'll feel a lot better when you're clean and in bed."

Jensen gave her a nod as he pushed his shirt off his shoulders while Avery unbuckled his pants and pushed them off. She left him to take off his socks and boxers while she felt for the temperature of the water. A crisp, warm temperature. Exactly what Jensen needed.

"You want any bath bombs or anything?" Avery glanced behind her. She had a few underneath the sink but she couldn't recall exactly where they were.

"No," Jensen murmured as he stepped inside the tub and sat down. Avery held a hand out in case he accidentally tripped. But he seemed to slowly be coming back into a normal headspace. "Well… maybe." He admitted. "Uh, honey and saguaro is nice."

Avery's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She didn't have a honey and saguaro bath bomb or bath salts. Then she saw the body wash sitting on the side of the tub opposite to her. Her body wash. Specifically, the one she used today. She smiled softly. Jensen wanted to smell like her.

"Okay, how about I shampoo and condition your hair first then body wash? Hm?" Avery leaned over the side of the tub and gave Jensen a small smile.

Jensen tipped his head in her direction and stared at her. "Yeah, okay." The idea of her hands in his hair sounded amazing and his tone reflected that.

He adjusted his position in the tub so Avery could massage the shampoo into his hair. Yet again, Jensen chose Avery's shampoo instead of his own. She'd run out of it every few months because of the length of her hair so she'd change up the scent. This time it was sweet peach and nectar. Before that, it was citrus and herbal musk. They never smelled particularly masculine or feminine. They just smelled nice. A lot better than whatever he bought. Overly manly with notes of bourbon and firewood. Jensen couldn't remember the name of it.

He needed to switch over to Avery's brand. Nearly every hygiene product she owned was from the same company. Shampoo, conditioner, deodorant, sunscreen, facial cleanser—hell, even her toothpaste.

"I love you." Jensen mumbled as Avery washed the shampoo out of his hair. She grabbed the removable shower head and tried to make sure there wasn't a drop left of foam. The touch calmed him, almost to the point of falling asleep.

Avery set the shower head back in its place and pressed a kiss to Jensen's cheek. "I love you too."

Jensen lifted an arm out of the tub and cupped her cheek. "You're so…" He tried to think of the right words. "Beautiful. Patient. Loving…" That sounded about right. "I can't imagine life without you anymore." He breathed.

Avery pressed a kiss to Jensen's palm, grabbing his arm to set it back down. "Me neither." She began to work her conditioner into his hair.

The massage felt pretty nice. Not as good as when it was on his scalp but Avery was adamant about conditioner only going on the end of a person's hair, not all over. Jensen couldn't argue, he did the same thing. And was a little too drunk to argue anyway.

"I don't understand," Jensen mumbled.

"Understand what?" Avery asked softly, letting the conditioner sit for a few minutes.

Jensen glanced at Avery. "Why do you treat me… like this? Like…" He pursed his lips. That intoxicated brain of his was opening up but it was also hard for him to speak properly or even think of any words longer than a couple of letters. "L-Like I'm delicate. Like I-I need to be pampered." It wasn't a bad thing by any means but Jensen hadn't had a relationship like that before. Where, in most intimate cases, he was the one getting spoiled. Getting shown so much love that he didn't know what to do with it.

"I think you deserve it." Avery shrugged. "And, I dunno, I guess I like doing it." It was that simple.

She liked doing it. Jensen pushed the palm of his hand to his nose as he sniffled. "I'm just crying a lot tonight, huh?" He tried to joke. His brain was a little fuzzy from before but something in his body knew this wasn't the first time.

"It's good to let go sometimes." Avery hummed, leaning her head against Jensen's. She didn't care that he was wet, just that he felt some semblance of comfort. "Crying is a release. I mean, I think we all deserve a good cry every now and then."

Jensen chuckled softly, the water sloshing slightly as his body moved with the laugh. "You're weirdly wise for someone so young." Sometimes, Jensen thought this was all fate. That he was going to learn more about life and himself from someone so much younger than him.

Avery had lived such an interesting and, quite frankly, scarring life in such a small amount of time, and yet she was more or less unscathed. She had her moments. Moments of breaking down and crying and wondering why she couldn't have parents who loved her. Parents who, at the very least, thought she was wonderful. Maybe then she would've been good enough. But then she'd take a look around at the life she built. All by herself. Elena, Jacob, Nate, Mercer, Jay, and Sammy were her family. No one else was. They made her life complete.

And then Jensen appeared in her life and made that little family a little bigger. A lot bigger. Now Avery had Misha, Felicia, Ruth, Rob, and Rich.

After Jensen was properly cleaned and dressed, Avery set him in bed. He was surprised when she was able to pick him up in the first place. That muscle wasn't just for show apparently. She lifted the covers over Jensen's body and smiled a little when he grabbed one of her fluffier blankets to have as well. He looked up at Avery as she got undressed for the night.

"You're way too adorable to be forty-five." Avery commented as she got in bed next to Jensen. His hair was dry but it stuck up in all different directions, adding to her comment.

Jensen pushed his face into her chest, appreciating the extra cushion for his head. "Thanks." Avery let out a laugh as she wrapped her arms around him. He had quite the night and she wouldn't deny him some extra comfort.

Minutes passed before Jensen spoke up again. Avery thought he'd gone to sleep since his breathing slowed but maybe he was just calm. "I can't believe I'm marrying you." He mumbled. Avery couldn't either. "You're the first person who I'd ever… After the divorce." Instead of alcohol, his brain got fuzzy from sleep.

"I know, honey. I know." Avery pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

She knew some details of Jensen's divorce but not many. Just that they settled on it together and that he had quite a hard time finding anyone afterward—she knew that from Misha. He was strictly single for two years—as far as Avery knew, Jensen hadn't had any one-night stands or flings—before they met. She also knew that time was a bit hard for Jensen. He had Danneel nearly every day of his life for years and that was suddenly just gone.

Avery hadn't had a romantic relationship that lasted that long before but she imagined how it would feel if Elena and her just stopped being friends all of a sudden. She'd miss her. Miss the kind of relationship she had with her and feel like she'd never have anything like that again.

But Jensen met her. And everything felt okay again. More than okay. It was amazing.

"I can't believe it either." Avery whispered, looking up at the ceiling. Her life looked drastically different. More in the past few months than the last few years. And not all of it was due to Jensen.

Well, a lot of it. Her book sales were steady because he phoned in quite a few friends.

Jensen nuzzled underneath Avery's jaw. "You're gonna be my wife." He said it in a dreamy tone that made her heart flutter. Then it'd be true when he said it to someone else rather than a slip of his tongue.

"And you're gonna be my husband." Avery brushed her hand through his hair. It was still a little damp.

"Yeah." Jensen sighed happily.

------

taglist: @nancymcl

taglist open here !!

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