#i hope i have picked ones you haven't seen

[kravinoffswife]

Room 87 - J. Todd x fem!reader༊*·˚

Fandom: DC

Summary: [y/n] receives a message from Jason telling her to pay him a visit and she can't resist.

Content warnings: a bit angsty, suggestive, some touching, reader is AFAB

A/N: First time writing a oneshot, I hope it's not horrible.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Come over.

These two words stared at [y/n], the illumination from her phone screen blinding in the otherwise dark room. She squinted at the message as if trying to decipher some hidden meaning. He had to be drunk, Jason never contacted her sober, the inverse was also true. It had been a year and a half since they had broken it off. Since then, they had seen each other every other month. It was a cycle, really. She'd drown herself in cheap cocktails and the touches of strangers to try and distract herself from what she really wanted - the feeling of his lips on her neck, his cock in her cunt. It was rather counter-intuitive; her alcohol fueled benders always ended up with her splayed out in Jason's bed.

She groaned and looked at the message again, her mind rattling off reasons as to why she should ignore it. She continued to give the more logical side of her brain center-stage as hopped into the shower, shaved, massaged the scented body lotion that she knew drove Jason crazy into her skin, picked an utterly devious set of underwear, put on a contrastingly tame outfit, applied her favourite lip gloss and left the house.

Her journey to the address he had sent was trance-like. She saw each street-name, each dingy apartment block, stray animals and strange people that reminded [y/n] that Gotham had a bit of a crime problem, but nothing seemed to actually register until she got to her destination.

It was a motel that was somewhere between decent and semi-nice. For Jason, this was shelling out. He was a very practical man, not willing to splurge on luxuries. She entered through the slightly weathered front doors, the clean smell of citrus and patchouli hitting her as soon as she crossed the threshold. The woman at the desk surveyed her, hot-pink lips chewing fervently on a wad of gum.

"Evening, lovely." Her tone was friendly and inviting. "How can I help you?"

"I'm visiting someone in room 87."

The receptionist looked at her knowingly, her periwinkle eyes sparkling with mischeif.

"Third floor." She smirked. "Gum?" She held out a stick of spearmint gum and winked. [y/n] took a piece gratefully.

"Have fun!" ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The elevator dinged once she had reached the third floor. [y/n]'s knuckles had barely grazed the door when it swung open. Jason's large hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her inside. He kicked the door shut.

"Hey" He rasped.

"Hey" She said quietly into his chest.

"I missed you."

"Mhm" She inhaled his musky scent. "I'm guessing you haven't just missed my stellar conversation"

"No, not just that."

She played with the hem of his shirt. Jason was not as playful and tugged her shirt over her head in one swift movement. She squealed as her skin was greeted by the cold air. Jason had a tendency to have the AC turned up. She shivered a bit.

"Cold, baby?" She nodded. He chuckled and ran a finger along her collarbone. "I'll get you all warmed up in no time."

She moaned at what he was alluding to. Her fingers dropped from his shirt to his belt buckle. As she did so, his lips captured hers in a kiss. There was no romance, only pure desire. He pushed her up against the wall. His hands ran through her hair, turning it into a mess of curls, something that she would ultimately tell him off for doing later as she had gone to the salon that very morning. She moaned when she finally got his pants off. She cupped his length through his boxers; rock hard. This only seemed to get her wetter and erode her willpower further. She bit his bottom lip and sucked on it gently. Jason groaned. Such a pretty sound. She wanted to make him do it again.

He pulled away from her, breath slightly ragged from the intensity of their union.

"You're too dressed for this, baby." He spoke against her neck, peppering the perfumed skin with rough kisses.

"Could say the same about you."

"Why don't we fix that, huh?" He took off his fitted black tee, revealing his sculpted torso, strong chest and wide shoulders. Although, she had seen his body several times, [y/n] couldn't help but gasp. She ran her fingers along the dips of his abdomen before settling back on his chest, her thump swiping over the raised skin of one of his many scars. Jason unclipped her bra and helped her out of her pants. He eyed her hungrily and his hands moved lower.

"You're so perfect." He mused as he kneaded her ass. "I love you."

"Love you more." She responded without any hesitancy. It was going to be a long night.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

[spaceorphan18]

The Lady Whistledown Papers : 2x06 The Choice (Part 1)

Welcome back, Gentle Readers, to The Lady Whistledown Papers, where I’m taking an in-depth look at Penelope Featherington and Colin Bridgerton’s character arcs and romance within the show Bridgerton!

For previous issues, follow tag : The Lady Whistledown Papers

Time for an entire episode centered around the Anthony/Kate/Edwina triangle. Yay? You know what really is the most fascinating, though? There's a lot of Pen and Colin in this episode and yet it feels so disconnected from the main story.

Which. Look, don't get me wrong, I wouldn't be sitting here doing this if I hadn't been having fun dissecting this show. But one of it's faults is the fact that it doesn't seamlessly blend its story lines together. Season 1 tried when they had Daphne and Marina's stories merge a bit at the end. But all of the Lady Whistledown stuff, Colin's arc, Pen and Eloise, Eloise and her publisher boy, it's just on another show as the Kanthany stuff. And yes, I realize the Queen is something that does tie all of it together. And sometimes the family scenes do get things right. But for an ensemble show, sometimes these plot lines feel just a little too disconnected that it makes it jarring when they intersect. (And yes - I have had this issue with all three seasons now.) Anyway... enough of my diatribe.

Bachelor Party

Oh, this scene. I love a good ABC Brothers scene - I hope they still manage to have them post-Season 4. Anyway, while Kate and Edwina are reflecting on love and their changing lives while they have their girl night, the boys are having a drink and playing pool. And I just think the presence of the pool table in Bridgerton house (I mean, I assume that's where they are? it looks like Anthony's study, and it doesn't look like it's at a bar, so...) is really funny. Like, they hauled that thing in for this one scene and is never to be seen again. I wonder which of them is the best pool player. Hmmm.

Also - Season 2 is just full of a lot of games isn't it? Fencing, pall mall, pool. Is it a metaphor of all the games Kate and Anthony play??? Okay, I'm probably stretching there, but it is kind of fun to pick out threads like this.

Anyway, back to Colin. Anthony's being moody. Benedict is being snippy. And Colin is just hanging back being the little sass master he usually is -- teasing Benedict for drinking too much and sniding at Anthony for being a sourpuss. It's amusingly endearing. I love their dynamics so much.

Obviously, Anthony really isn't happy about who he is marrying, but there's an interesting kind of rift between him and his brothers. Anthony's story is all about obligations and duties, and feeling the weight and burden of having those things spelled out for you at birth. While Colin's story is all about feeling adrift and feeling as if he has no purpose. Anthony envies Colin (and Benedict)'s freedom to do as they choose, while Colin is envious that Anthony has some kind of meaning in his life. The grass is always greener.

Though, not that Colin is really being all that philosophical in this scene, as he is too busy being tipsy and playing pool, giggling in the background as his brothers take potshots at each other.

(I love this scene so much.)

Also, a couple technical-ish things to point out. I kind of love the way this scene is shot. The camera is meandering around, shakey and always moving, and is on angles all the time -- not only to make a nod at the amount of alcohol being consumed, but also to visually represent that disorienting and dizzying predicament Anthony has found himself in.

I also really love their outfits in this scene, just because they mesh and complement each other -- Anthony, btw, is in a dark navy blue, that is almost black, and almost looks like he's in mourning. Benedict in his deep red and golds, I haven't noticed Benedict's color patterns, huh, while Colin is in his usual pewter blues. Idk, historically accurate or not (and usually not) the costuming is just fascinating to look at to see how it represents their characters.

Also, also - Colin through the mirror shot! It doesn't mean anything, I was just amused by it. Just wait until I don't shut up about mirror imagery in Season 3. ;)

Hard to tell in the screenshot (and may bit slightly the lighting) but there is some gold embroidery in his clothing, and I'm fascinated by how much creams and yellows end up in Colin's wardrobe. I'm also fascinated by the cravats because he's going to start ditching them in Season 3 and... I have a whole lot of thoughts about that. More on that later, stay tuned...

Anyway, the scene moves on to Benedict continuing to rib Anthony, and teasing him about having an heir who will just be a mini-Anthony. And Colin jokes that hypothetical mini-Anthony will be just as much of a tyrant as his father. (And I mean, I do think Colin will actually end up having a good relationship with his nieces and nephews... this comment is merely a reflection of how much a pain in the ass older brother Anthony can be.)

Bottoms up, Colin! (This is the clearest shot I could get.)

They're toasting to the 'disagreeable sister' and, interestingly, Colin's toast is to besting her. I don't know that I even know what to do with that - other than reiterate that Colin does, indeed, have a competitive streak. And also he likes sticking it to Anthony almost as much as Benedict does.

Oh, also, there's a really tiny detail in here that I'm sure no one notices but me since I've now watched this scene like ten times in a row. At the beginning of the scene, Colin makes it a point to mention that the alcohol they're consuming is meant to be sipped. And then at the end, he downs it like a frat boy on a mission to get drunk, and chokes on it. Idk, I was amused. But considering how the rest of the episode goes, while I do think Colin very much appreciates a good drink, I don't think he spends a whole lot of time downing as much alcohol as Anthony does.

Whispers

I'll have to look up this director, because they very much are into all the camera movements this episode. Genevieve shows up for a house call, but it's really because Penelope has summoned her? The writing is slightly fuzzy. But the point is that Genevieve and Penelope need a moment to talk. And the camera swirls around them. The camera movement adds tension to the scene, as it's never settled and always suspicious.

(I went and looked, it's Tom Verica - who has worked a lot with Shonda Rimes. Interesting. Also -- the way they do directing for this show is also interesting, in that there's one director for two episodes a season. I'm going to watch for stylistic changes.)

Anyway... Penelope is seeking out info about Theo -- asking if Genevieve if she knows anything about him. Genevieve doesn't, but she picks up on the fact that Penelope is panicking slightly, and does a little herself. She tells Pen that her business is too important to let little things slide, and Penelope reassures her that her business is also important, and she'd definitely let Genevieve know if something is up.

The camera lands on Penelope and pushes in when Penelope lets it be known firmly that Lady Whistledown is not a joking matter, though she doesn't really see a problem yet.

Btw, the scoring is tense and ominous here, but comes to a point when Portia enters the scene. I love these technical details so much! It just adds so much to the drama of it.

Portia doesn't understand why Genevieve is there, but Genevieve is quick to cover saying she meant to deliver something to the Bridgerton house instead.

I love Penelope's abrupt change of demeanor. Two seconds earlier, she was hardened business woman trying to protect her interests, and while still very young, able to be an equal peer with Genevieve. And then her mother appears, and she is youthful, dutiful, childlike Penelope again, all smiles and innocence. I'm just so fascinated by performances today, apparently.

As Genevieve leaves, Penelope faces away from her mother to watch the modiste leave, her face falling, a look of worry on it. Meanwhile, Portia walks by scoffing at the fact that a woman runs her own business -- stating it's no wonder her mind is scattered. An obvious judgment, and an ironic statement since Pen, too, is a woman running her own business.

Btw, despite the fact that the previous episode made it a point that the Featheringtons are no longer getting invitations to things, they're on their way to the Bridgerton wedding. Did the Queen decide to just invite everyone then? Huh.

Pre-Wedding

What being in fandom feels like sometimes...

Ah, Bridgerton memes, you will never not be funny.

Violet is trying her best to get a move on of things -- they have Anthony's wedding to attend! I love the family chaos of it all.

Colin is hung. over. The light bothering him. His family being too loud. The stinging headache. (Ngl, it's kinda funny) I LOVE Violet's remark to Benedict -- 'Whatever you've done to your brother, undo it.' It is such a mom line and I love it so much.

Colin comments that he doesn't have the same capacity for alcohol as his brothers. And I mean, this checks. Anthony was downing bottles of alcohol last season, and Benedict gives off more fratboy energy. Unlike his brothers, Colin is usually more in tune with living with his feelings, and doesn't usually use narcotics to suppress them. It's really only when they get extreme does he reach out for something external (such as getting high in Greece or getting incredibly trashed in season 3).

Casual drunkeness isn't Colin's style.

Benedict's suggestion for the hangover, however, is more alcohol! Is this payback for Colin getting Benedict high? Or just amusement on his half? Idk, it's interesting. But Colin is going to take it. I want to point out, now, that Colin is drinking in nearly every scene of this episode, and I do think there's more to it than just an attempt at nursing a hangover.

We'll get there. For now, we have a wedding to get to!! :)

[tarotmundomonde]

Next 6 months will you have 18+ with someone?

will you have 18+ with your preferred gender during the next 6 months, yes or no and a short explanation :) ++ this is for both singles and those, who are dating but haven't done the 18+ yet with their current partner.

pick a number 1-5 or

(ps. this reading is for practice and for fun)

1.💜 The answer is yes. It does look like the topic is left untouched at first. But then you or them, it looks like perhaps they will initiate the conversation. And eventually that's how you'll end up doing it. There is a sense of being prepared but also of convincing. They might send you literally nudes to show you they are the full package. But you are definitely the one having the final say in this. The cards do say you'll be first dreaming about doing it with each other and it looks like you will communicate it with each other, telling about your 18+ dreams of each other. You will be building trust with each other first. You might literally agree on a date, when you'll do it for the first time together. Romanticism, but also it looks like you'll really go for it. Unhibited, wild sxx. Also, the cards talk about solar plexus chakra activation and bonding.

2.🧡 The answer is no. What is shown here is that you are very smart and you don't melt. You have your opinions and in the end, even the greatest temptations cannot tempt you off your path. It looks like you will be using your discernment. I'll be honest with you, this pile is probably for the minority, because the cards are clear about you not being into quick fixes and quick flings. You just don't do them, you don't engage. Like the cards are showing, it looks like majority of the people look good on the surface, but they are all bitten apples. Those people just want the sxx and nothing else. You know, people who just wants the experience, high body counts and just go straight to sxx. For them that's the romance. Or friends with benefits. It looks like that's what you can easily find and plenty, it's always within reach. That's what's around you. Whereas you want to celebrate love, you want the excitement and the fun and the romance, the chemistry, the butterflies, the intimacy, the moments. But looking at the cards, not all hope is lost for the next 6 months. There is a chance that you will meet someone. According to the cards, someone, who is a very healthy golden apple, will find you. You are waiting for each other, to find each other and once you find each other, you will be patient with each other. The cards talk about waiting, chemistry, true love, full intimacy and creative intimacy and also heart chakra activation and bonding. So take your time and have fun.

3.🩶 The answer is yes. This is most likely going to happen with your partner, because it looks like there is deep trust between you two and that you feel relaxed and comfortable doing that with them. However, it doesn't look like it is necessarily planned. Rather you know it's bound to happen and someday you just do it. It could be even on an anniversary, for example 100 days anniversary. You also got throat chakra and solar plexus chakra activation and bonding. Also, the cards are talking about jealousy and being possessive and about memories. So maybe one of you or you both want to be so great that you can make the other forget about their exes. This could have to do with the body count as well. Because there is a focus on past partners and about wanting to protect your feelings from all the secrets and discoveries. Trying to have strong self-confidence. It's like wishing to be better and doing better than the exes. Hoping to be seen as the one.

4.💚 The answer is yes. Well, it looks like a lot of it. I dare say might be the most active pile. Strong attraction, intense, passionate. For some of you, this might be an ex. Or you'll break up but can't move on from each other and then have lots of make up sxx. Because this pile has it all: love sxx, angry sxx, make up sxx, passionate sxx. You feel like you two are such a match in that sense, feeling like it's a bliss, when you two do it. And apparently you two love the eye-contact, the loving gaze you give each other, it seems to be something special for you two. Like your own thing.

5.❤️ The answer is no. For this pile it turned very last minute into a no. It looks like you'll have some insecurities, fears and doubts. There is someone, who wants to do it with you, but it looks like you are not sure, if you can trust them. Again, this is not a personal reading, so the reasons will vary, for example maybe you'll meet them in five months and you are not ready to have sxx with them within a month. You might also worry, if you can be your true self, can you trust them. Maybe you are worried of your body image and fear that they would judge your body and tell it to their friends. Maybe you know something that makes you suspect they might go tell their friends about your body and what the sxx was like. It does look like you would like to keep your privacy and there is a doubt that your person won't respect that. Because the cards talk about gossip. So you might question, if that person is just whispering you sweet nothings trying to lure you to do it with them and then go tell their friends about it.

[unhinged-simp]

Hello~ I've been lurking for awhile but I haven't seen anyone ask...

What are your most and least favorite characters in TDB? Your favorite chapter? Idk, I want to hear your opinions! Hear you simp along with us! 💛

Spoilers for chapter 13, though I don’t go that in depth with it. Also this is so long. Also thank you for asking, I really could go more into why I love these characters, but I stopped myself.

Honestly, I like most of the characters. I do have specific favorites though. I usually just count the characters I think about the most out of others my favorites.

My all time favorite is Subaru. I just randomly started liking him before his chapter even came out. I love when he shows up because I eat up every scene he’s in, and I love when they put him in chapters that aren’t Hotarubi, especially chapter 11. He was so cute during that chapter, not like he isn’t just cute in general. He’s also very pretty too. (I still don’t have his standard SSR, sob) I feel like there’s a lot we don’t know about him, and I’m excited to see what it is. He just means a lot to me.

My second favorite varies, but I’m probably going to say it’s Rui. He was the character I picked when I first started the game. I do remember them calling him a playboy, and I was kinda worried they’d go down the pervy playboy route, but I was happy they didn’t. He is such an interesting character and I’m also excited to learn more about him. He’s another character that means a lot to me.

My third favorite also varies, but most often it’s Kaito. Originally I wasn’t really into him, I just enjoyed him because he was silly. Then chapter 9 happened, and my whole view on him changed. Of course he’s still silly, but I genuinely think he’s super cool. I hope we learn more about him and his family.

My fourth favorite is probably Romeo. Originally I didn’t like him that much due to his attitude, but he’s another one that chapter 9 made me like. I saw how pretty he was and changed my mind. At that point I just liked him because he’s pretty, but I’ve gotten to the point where I enjoy his attitude.

I have some others that I don’t really number, just characters that I like and sometimes forget.

Like Jin. I absolutely love the icy tsundere but actually kind of soft to the one they like trope that he has. Plus he’s just insanely hot, totally did enjoy it when he pinned the MC to the wall in chapter 1. This recent chapter was also amazing for all of the Jin scenes in it.

Sho is another one I really like. I mean he’s literally the whole boyfriend package. He’s kind and caring, he can cook you amazing meals, he can protect you. Like what’s there to not like about him?

Haku! I like Haku too. Like why does bro have to be so hot? While I do find him kind of suspicious, he’s also very kind to MC, and I really enjoy that. I really wished we knew more about him! Maybe Chapter 15(if it is about the Hotarubi trio). I also think it’s funny how during new years, he doesn’t ask the MC on a date, but Rui and Kaito do(my friend and I joked that they sacrificed Haku’s flirtiness to give Rui and Kaito a chance).

Oh, and I absolutely love Ren too! He’s probably number 5 in the list of characters I think about. Especially when he had the puppy ears and tail. I don’t even know why, but I’m absolutely obsessed with puppyboy Ren. Before we even saw him in the episode I wanted those ears and tail to be real so badly. He’s also incredibly relatable to me.

As for my least favorite characters, I only have one I really don't like, and that’s Ed. He just acts insanely creepy in a way I hate, especially around the MC. The way he texts I absolutely hate, and it gives me brain damage every time I see it. I just want to go, “okay grandpa, it’s time for bed.” Everytime he speaks. At least he confirmed the Kykkos thing.

I don’t really enjoy Leo’s attitude, but I don’t mind him that much, so he gets an honorable mention here.

I have a lot of favorite chapters, it’s really hard to pick just one.

I really liked chapter 12, Jabberwock was a breath of fresh air and I love all of them. Plus the anomaly for that chapter was super cool.

Chapter 9 is also another of my favorites. I liked the group of characters they picked. I love the crumbs of Jiro and Zenji lore, and I want more. The Halloween outfits were all some of my favorites. I thought the anomaly in this chapter was so cool.

Chapter 10 broke me, but I love it too. Like I felt so bad for Lyca and Rui. We got to learn more about Rui’s curse! The maid/butler aesthetic was also really fun.

I also liked chapter 13 as well. I’m glad they didn’t hide the gore at all. The twist caught me off guard. We got to learn more about Tohma which is pretty neat. Jinnnnnnnn!!!! and Kaitoooo!! Luca was also nice to have around again, I forgot how enjoyable he was. The anomalies were so cooollll, I’ve been loving the recent anomaly designs a lot.

Lastly, I like chapter 5. I know there isn’t a lot in it, but the Zenji plot twist was so amazing that I really enjoy it. Plus we get Subaruuu and Hakuu.

I hope you enjoyed reading this, it definitely made me think.

[maverickcalf]

what movies (without tom, i think i got some of your tolm recs before :D) would you recommend to watch?

... i started this ask then forgot to save it before turning off my phone so uhhh new post I guess.

1. Arsenic and Old Lace (1944)

Dark Comedy about Family and Poison. Cary Grant funny as hell, it shocks me he is seen as pretty leading man when really he is perfect being over the top. Also got a toxic queer coded relationship in this (in my opinion) so it has that going for it.

2. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969)

Possibly one of the best westerns of all time. I really love it. It's a movie clearly made in the late 1960s they do use modern music, but it blends it so well that in really enhances the piece rather than distracts from it. Also it's wonderfully shot, every time i see a landscape shot i found myself gushing. The land really is it's own character, I adore it.

Also the leads played by Paul Newman and Robert Redford, they are like it man, best duo and really make the movie wonderful.

Marvel movies wish they had what they had.

3. Escape from New York (1981)

An action movie set in a dark world setting, in 1997.... but made in 1981, so it has that bleak gritty feel, but also is just very 80s.

John Carpenter directs and Kurt Russell stars. (His character very much inspired metal gear solid, as his character's name is Snake)

4. Dirty Dancing (1987)

Coming of age romance story. But you could only watch one of the genre have it be dirty dancing. Two people who come from different social classes find themselves having to work together and slowly fall in love.

The movie is from the female leads pov we get to see her truely experience sexuality and what it means to be brave and stand up for what's right.

Every relationship was far more complex and different than what i was expecting and i find myself thinking about the movie all the time.

The dancing is also just incredible. I get so happy thinking about it. If you are in for a movie with romance and surprisingly interesting take on what romance can lead to, please watch it. It is just as good, if not better than people say it is!

5. The Way (2010)

Directed by Emilio Estevez and Starring Martin Sheen, this movie is a beautiful take on love, loss, and what taking a journey truely means.

The story is a father gets a call that his son has passed away while abroad. The two have always been distant and they never got to really reconnect before he died.

His son was just starting the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage route and the Dad decides rather spur of the moment to complete the walk himself (this is a very long walk through France and Spain)

It's very emotional charged but also very comfortable of that makes sense. I really should by it on DVD sometime.

I dunno maybe i am biased about a father son story, made by a son and father.

[thelaststarfalling]

kitten acquisition is likely actually happening this weekend

i think i am going to get one orange male and one calico female

now i have to pick names (which i am being indecisive about lol) and schedule spay/neuter and other basic vet things which is unexpectedly stressful hnnnng

[smartzelda]

Sometimes you have to wonder if someone really is a villain fan or if they'd just rather twist their entire situation and backstory in their heads so that the villain seems like a completely misguided poor poor meow meow victim who they can fix into an unequivocally good person

[theunderthecover]

(hi its the anon from earlier, now clearly not an anon. im sending this before I fold into myself. <3)

Scar has been tempted to fold the towel for the past half hour, no matter how safe and lucrative this scheme is. 

Doing anything in front of a crowd for 5 hours nonstop is a tiring task by itself, but singing on top of that could make the most experienced performer want to keel over.

But, a group of powerful and wealthy adventurers entered the tavern 30 minutes ago, and Grian's eyes narrowed in their direction. It's a look the Aarakocra only has when a bigger fish (a bigger prize) unexpectedly appears on the job. It's a look that leads to some of their biggest catches. So, Scar will sing and entertain the party til they're blackout drunk and his throat dies so Grian can snatch whatever caught his eye. 

The energy in the tavern has long since died down, as most rowdy tavern goers are either off to bed or too tired to be loud anymore. The only thing that fills the room now is quiet chatter, the barkeep's everlasting service, Scar's continued performance. He concludes yet another song and basks in another round of faint applause. 

From the corner of his eye, he can see a faint bird-like footprint appear in a small puddle of cheap alcohol near the extremely drunk targets.

With Grian so close, Scar needs to have an iron grip on the room's attention again despite the itch in his throat and the room's energy being at an all-time low. There are too many drifting eyes that could see something being stolen. 

After staring at the puddle for a moment too long, he gets an idea. 

"You've been a delight tonight, kind folks! It'll be just one more song to wrap up the night." Scar declares to the whole tavern from his stage, "Though I'll be sure to leave you all filled with wonder and awe! As a treat, for being such an Amazin' audience tonight." He finishes the segway with an exaggerated wink, causing some patrons to giggle. 

He casts minor illusions with a flourish, making the sound of soft instruments echo around the room. As a viol begins to play, the quiet conversation amongst patrons lulls as every eye--curious, confused, excited--turns to the stage once more.

Scar's eyes close, and he relaxes as he takes in the music the magic creates. He thinks of the song with intent, pulls upon vivid memories to inspire emotion, and lets the feeling consume every movement. He takes one more breath, then, at the cue, begins to sing with a slightly rough voice.

"In a perfect world… one we’ve never known…” 

The tone is jarringly different from the previous songs of the night.

"We would never need to face the world alone…."

The instrument choice, low soothing energy, a soft romantic sway, and the bard's renewed life- all combined- make a near-perfect hook for everyone within the tavern. 

"They can have the world…" 

All Scar has to do is follow through with the catch and reel in the hook enough to let Grian catch the fish before anyone in the pond suspects a thing.

"We'll create our own."

He opens his eyes slightly, half-lidded to obscure where he looks but wide enough to see one of the wealthy adventurer's satchels be swiped off the table and quickly replaced by an identical copy. A bit of panic wells up inside him at the precarious move, but he swallows and trusts his partner knows what he's doing.

"I may not be brave, strong, or smart, but somewhere in my secret heart-" His voice slightly cracks at the rise, but he breathes through it and tries not to let it go completely off-pitch. Scar looks at the ceiling and tries to force his movements make it look intentional, stretching out the ache in his throat. 

"I know, love will find a way… anywhere I go…" Scar lowers his head in time to catch a now visible Grian acting like he just walked in the room, "I'm home if you are there beside me…"

He lets the music breathe, in a tune he knows by heart, as he watches his partner-in-crime casually head for the exit.  

Grian turns around and leans against the wall by the door, a stolen bag tucked under a wing. He signals to leave. They make eye contact.

The warm tavern lights again, and Aarakocra's red tones make Grian look like a painted sunrise. Scar, despite knowing he should be focused on finishing this scheme, doesn't look away. Doesn't stop to think about causing glorious chaos in their victorious exit.

Scar continues to sing, holding Grian's eyes within his own all the while. 

"Like dark, turning into day…"

Grian subtly pauses, confused but suddenly seeming as spellbound as the partner-in-crime in the metaphorical spotlight.

Still, their eyes hold.

 "… somehow we'll come through…"

Grian's incredulously mouthed words, which he fondly knows are along the lines of 'Scar, what are you doing?!'

Still, their eyes hold. 

"… now that I've found you..."

Scar's posture slightly sags with the exhaustion of this performance. He feels the cantrip near its minute end, but the violins swell into an off-script crescendo anyway.

Their eyes still hold.

"… love will find a way..."

The music cuts off abruptly as the spell ends.

He sees Grian suddenly look rather lost, but Scar is not sure why.

The whole tavern is bathed in silence.

He feels compelled to make the song at least sound finished. So…

"Now that I've found you..."

… he repeats himself, even with nothing else to support the song. 

(Scar doesn't admit that, at that moment, as he and his partner swim in each other's eyes, he didn't only repeat it for the performance.)

"… love will find a way."

The room roars into one of the loudest applause at night despite the smaller number of people.

And their eyes still hold.

bard scar singing a little love song at the crastle tavern and making direct eye contact with warlock grian

i think i just got murdered by my own thought what the fuck

[imaginedisish]

I'm Not In Love (Logan Howlett x fem!Reader)

A/N: Okay, so this if my first fic in over a year, and it's also my first Wolverine fic...so please be kind. I'm just getting back into the groove. Expect it to possibly be a little rough. This is big time inspired by "I'm Not In Love" by 10cc. This fic is also thanks to a request I got from an anonymous user! Thanks for the idea, anon! Hope it's okay! Enjoy guys.

Summary: After harboring a crush on Logan for months, things finally come to a head while on an overnight mission.

Warnings: SMUT. 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. There's like no plot here just smut, Unprotected PIV sex (wrap it up), Oral (f!receiving), AFAB reader, Sizekink!(this was a specific size kink request, and so the reader is therefore described as being smaller than Logan/his shirt being big on her), cursing, praise kink, OOC!Logan (just putting this out there because I haven't seen the X-Men movies/read X-Men comics in forever and I'm probably giving him terms he doesn't use/having him act in ways he might not typically), feelings, cocky!Logan, softdom!Logan, one bed muahaha, probably grammar errors, think that's it?

Word Count: 3,162 I got carried away

He was driving you absolutely crazy. Logan. Logan fucking Howlett, with his cocksure attitude and self-satisfied smile. Maybe it’s the way he thinks he’s always right. Maybe it’s that stupid stubbornness, that prowl he does when he walks across a room to meet you. To mock you. His whole being towering over you—his musky, pine-scented cologne filling your lungs. He’s everywhere—and not just metaphorically—literally and physically. His giant frame shadows yours, and you can’t help but admit that there’s something about it…something about him. 

You want him. Bad. And although you won’t admit it, you’ve wanted him for months. And so, as of lately, he’s not so much a nuisance as much as he’s a distraction. 

You just had to be sent on this mission with Logan—this ridiculous two-day stake-out that you could have done on your own. You’re certainly strong enough; your telekinetic powers and regenerative abilities are enough to handle any situation. And yet, here you are, walking up to a motel with Logan fucking Howlett. 

His frame practically consumes yours as he stands behind you on the sidewalk. You swear you can feel the ghost of his fingertips against your waist, impatient and ready to guide you forward. You silently wish he would—wish he would grab your hips and take you down that alleyway and—

“You okay, darlin’?” His voice is gruff against the shell of your ear. “You seem awfully distracted.”

You swallow your embarrassment and hope he won’t pick up on how fast your heart is beating. “I’m fine, just tired,” you mutter, lying straight through your teeth. You can feel his smirk against the side of your head. He has to know what he’s doing. He has to know how much you want him. 

He chuckles and his chest vibrates against your back. “Too tired for the mission, bub? We’re almost at the motel, don’t worry.” The condescension in his voice is palpable. He knows exactly how to get under your skin. You’re putty in his hands. 

He steps out from behind you, and before you can mourn the loss of the contact, he grabs your hand and leads the way through the doors of the motel. “This okay?” He whispers in your ear, his massive hand giving your smaller one a squeeze. All you can manage is a nod as you approach the front desk. You know it’s just to support your cover—you and Logan are posing as a married couple—but you can’t help but hope it means more. You need it to mean more. 

God, you are so fucked. 

You’re so distracted thinking about how close Logan is to you that you almost miss the moment when the worker at the front desk says the only room left has just one bed. 

You crane your head to look up at Logan, who you find is already looking down at you. 

“That’s perfect,” he says, his eyes still on you. His stare doesn’t budge as the man behind the front desk slides the key towards the two of you. Logan grabs the keys and finally breaks the moment. His hand is still holding yours as he navigates the two of you toward your motel room. 

The room is…small. There’s one queen bed in the center, a bathroom on the other side of the room, and an old box television resting on an even older-looking oak dresser. On the bright side, the place appears to be clean. 

“I should freshen up,” you say, taking off your shoes. Your hand slips out of Logan’s as you pad over to the bathroom with your bag. 

The bathroom isn’t horrible either. Dated, but clean. You brush your teeth and wash your face before undressing and searching for your pajamas in your bag—which, naturally, you forgot to pack. 

“Ah fuck,” You mutter louder than you meant to. 

You hear Logan stirring in the other room, his footsteps quickly approaching the door. “You okay?” You can sense the concern in his voice, and you can’t help but smile. 

“Yeah, just forgot to pack something to wear to bed.” There’s more shuffling on the other side of the door. You hear Logan’s bag zip. 

“You want my shirt?” He asks, standing just outside the door now. 

“I’d feel bad, then you—” Your protests are ignored as he opens the door just enough to toss his Calgary Flames t-shirt onto the bathroom sink, closing it tightly once the shirt lands. You smirk as you walk over to the shirt and put it on. The hem lands at the middle of your thighs. Logan really is massive, you think to yourself. 

You take a deep breath, slowly twist the knob of the bathroom door, and head outside. Logan is lounging on the chair next to the dresser, his eyes on you as you place your bag down on the floor at the foot of the bed. 

“Th-thanks for the…” You stutter, trailing off as you nod down to the shirt. 

Logan smirks as he pushes himself out of the chair and makes his way toward you. You think you see him take you in, look you up and down, but that can’t possibly be.

He shakes his head as he stops at your side. You swear you hear him mutter a low fuck under his breath. “You look good.” But he doesn’t stop for long. He pushes forward and into the bathroom. “I’ll sleep on the floor,” he mumbles as he shuts the door behind him. 

“Let’s just share the bed,” you shout back, unsure of where the confidence to say that came from. But there’s no response, just the running of water from the sink. 

You sit on the edge of the bed, waiting for what feels like forever, but Logan doesn’t take long at all. After a few minutes, you hear the sink shut off and the door creek open. 

You shake your head as you stand from the bed to face him. “By the way, you’re not sleeping on the floor, don’t be ridic—” You’re too stunned to say another word. You’ve seen Logan shirtless before, sure, but not like this. Not in just his boxers. Not in a room with him, alone, for an entire night. You need to relax, to calm down, but there’s nowhere else to go, and nothing else to look at. You know he can your heart beating out of your chest now. 

 He steps toward you, engulfing you with his presence. You stare up at him. “Am I really that scary?” He closes the distance between the two of you. 

You try to play dumb. “W-what are you talking about?”

“Every time I get close to you, that little heart of yours practically explodes.”

You swallow roughly. “I d-don’t know what you’re talking about, Logan.” But your shaky voice gives it away. You know exactly what he means. 

His arms snake around your waist, resting on your lower back. “Yeah, you do, darlin’,” he says. “You afraid of me or something?” God he is so fucking cocky, you think to yourself. 

“’M’not afraid of you,” you whisper. “Could never be afraid of you.” 

He smiles and walks you to the edge of the bed, your knees threatening to buckle under the pressure. “What is it then, hm? You like how big I am? That it?” Your eyes frantically search his face for some sort of excuse, some sort of denial. But he can read you like a book. “Yeah, I think that’s it.” He’s towering over you, caging you in. 

“It’s more than that,” you admit. 

He cocks his head to the side. “Oh yeah? What?” He won’t let that be enough—you know he won’t. He’ll tease it out of you. His presence is dizzying and distracting. You’re not even sure you can form another complete sentence. 

“I-it’s just you,” you finally choke out. 

But it’s not enough for him. “What about me?”

Everything, you want to say. You want to tell him how you feel. “Logan, I…” But you can’t. I’m not in love, that’s what you’ve been trying to convince yourself of for months.  

“Go on, say it. What’s got you going?” He tightens his grip around your waist, his thumbs rubbing gently along your back. He leans down, his lips brushing against your forehead. “Use your words, sweetheart.” 

Your eyes flutter shut, and you take a deep breath. He’s everything and he’s everywhere. He’s in your head and in your hands. You can smell the musk and the pine and a hint of mint and that extra thing that is just distinctly him. He’s warm and his breath ever-so-lightly tickles your ear as his forehead rests against yours. 

And then finally, it comes out.

“I want you, Lo.”

You open your eyes and immediately notice the change in his expression. That cocky grin is gone. He isn’t teasing anymore. This is something else. Want. No, stronger than that. Desire. Adoration. Longing. Like those four words undid something in him. Untangled some knot that had been there for far too long. Almost like he thought you maybe wouldn’t want this. That maybe someone wouldn’t want him. 

So, you say it again. “I want you, Logan.” 

He shuts his eyes. “Fuck.” 

And then he’s pushing you down onto the mattress. His lips find their way to yours, crashing like the world is about to end. You can feel his hunger, his desperation. He rests one hand next to your head for balance and slips his free hand underneath the shirt he lent you. He’s exploring the curves of your body, the dips and turns, eventually pulling the shirt up and over your head. 

He comes up for air as his fingers play with the clasp of your bra. You watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. “This okay?” He asks, waiting for your approval. You nod and the hooks are immediately undone. You arch your back so he can slip the bra off. “Fuck, pretty girl,” he mumbles. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” 

His hands find their way to your chest, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, teasing you, pinching lightly. 

“Lo, please. Need you,” is all you can say. 

He trails a line of kisses down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, the center of your chest, his mouth traveling achingly slowly until finally landing on one of your tits. He kisses your nipple before taking it into his mouth, biting lightly and licking the hurt away. 

“Please,” you beg again. 

He comes up for a moment. “Please what?” He asks before moving on to the other side. 

“Need you so bad,” You whimper. But he doesn’t stop. “N-need you to touch me.”

He pauses again. “Think I’m already doing that, darlin’. Gonna have to be more specific.” 

“Fuck me, please.”  

He shakes his head. “Wanna make you feel good first, pretty girl.” 

You sit up a bit, ready to protest. “But you are. You’re making me feel so—” You’re cut off by the sight of him staring up at you as he trails kisses down your stomach, stopping at the top of your panties. He grabs your hips and pushes you further into the center of the bed. His fingers slip under the hem of your panties, waiting for your approval. You nod, and he practically tears them right off you. 

Logan kisses the inside of your thigh, slowly charting a path toward your core, his thumb tracing circles on the other thigh. You’re already squirming under his touch. “Lo,” You whimper. “Please—Fuck!” Without warning, his tongue licks a long stripe up your folds to your clit. His lips lock around it, sucking softly, his fingers suddenly teasing your entrance before slipping a finger inside.

“So tight darlin’. Gonna feel so good,” he mumbles against you, the vibrations of his deep voice sending a jolt up your spine. 

He’s taking his time, tasting you, savoring you. His tongue laps at your cunt, licking slow circles as his finger pumps in and out. You need more.

“Lo,” You call out, your back arching in pleasure. But he doesn’t answer. He keeps going as if he’s gotten lost in you, as if there’s nothing that can possibly be said to bring him back. “Lo, please,” you moan again. 

He chuckles against your core. “Please what, pretty girl?” He mumbles. You can feel his smirk against you.

“M-more,” you beg. You can feel his smirk grow wider as his motions stall. “No don’t stop, please don’t stop.” 

He looks up at you, his finger buried deep inside your cunt, his lips just inches from your clit. “Wanna take my time with you, darlin’.”

“Y-you c-can,” You stutter. “W-whatever you want. Just need more.”

“More?” He repeats, arrogantly tilting his head. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight. 

“Yes, please.” But you know by the look in his eyes that you’re getting more than you bargained for. 

He adds another finger, pumping in and out faster than before. His lips latch onto your clit, sucking roughly. It’s overwhelming, and you know he isn’t going to let up. His tongue draws circles around your core, flicking harshly before ruthlessly sucking again. You can feel a third finger prodding your entrance before slipping in and stretching you out. 

“This what you wanted?” He teases.

“Lo, I—” It’s too much, you can’t speak. 

“I’ve got you darlin’. I’m right here. You’re doing so good for me.” His words by themselves practically send you over the edge. 

“’M’so close Logan,” You whimper, spurring him on. His pace quickens; his circles become harder. You can feel your walls tightening around his fingers. 

“I know, pretty girl. Wanna feel you come on my fingers. Can you do that for me?” 

You can’t even speak anymore. All you can manage is a hum that passes for an affirmative. He pumps in and out of you, still alternating between sucking your clit and circling it with his tongue. 

“Look so beautiful like this darlin’. So fucking beautiful,” He husks. And that’s all it takes to make that liquid heat, that tension building in the bottom of your stomach, cut like a knife, pouring out of you. Your vision blurs as you let yourself go. You chant his name like it’s a prayer, a spell, something otherworldly. He finally slows down, letting you ride out your orgasm. 

He pulls out and away from you, crawling up your body so that he’s on top of you. He’s absolutely huge; his arms rest next to your head, caging you in. “You alright sweetheart?” He asks, one hand coming up to cup your cheek as he presses a chaste kiss against your forehead. 

“Hm,” You hum. “Like you like this.”

There’s that cocky smirk again. “Like what?”

“O-on top of me,” You admit freely now. Your arms come up to wrap around his shoulders, but he quickly pins them above your head.

He smiles widely, his forehead coming down to rest on yours. You can feel his erection press against your core through his boxers. And—fuck—he’s big. “Gonna fuck you like this then, okay pretty girl?”

“P-please,” you stutter. 

He sits up, pulling his boxers down, revealing just how big he is. You swallow harshly, sitting up and watching as he casts his boxers to the side. He doesn’t let you watch for long. He pins you down again, one hand keeping your hands above your head and supporting his weight, while the other guides his cock to your entrance. His slides against your folds before slowly sinking inside you. You can’t help but arch your back to meet his chest. 

Everything is slow. He’s taking his time again, letting himself feel every inch of you, giving you the chance to adjust to the size of him. His free hand reaches in between your bodies and finds your clit, drawing slow, gentle circles. 

His forehead rests against yours as he thrusts into you. “Wanted this for so long,” he confesses, his thrusts growing faster. “Always wanted you, darlin’.” You can feel your heart burst in your chest as his lips meet yours. You can feel his hunger, his desire. 

“Wanted you too,” You whisper against his lips between kisses. 

His cock rubs against your walls, hitting that sweet spot every single time. He’s massive, stretching you out with each pump. He builds speed, his thrusts growing rougher as his fingers circle your clit faster. 

He whispers praises in your ear. “You feel so good, pretty girl. So fucking tight. Need you, darlin’. Always.” 

Always. 

It’s all too much. The words, the vulnerability, the feeling of him rutting into you with no end in sight. The promise of something else, something more. 

“Logan, I’m gonna…” You trail off, your walls tightening around him. It’s all so overwhelming. But if you’re being honest, you never want it to end. This. This feeling. Him inside you. Him around you. 

He curses under his breath, his thrusts becoming sloppier and faster as he chases his orgasm. “I know darlin’. Wanna feel you come on my cock.” He keeps his fingers steady on your clit, circling roughly, chasing your orgasm too. 

“Lo,” You mumble. “It’s so good. Y-you’re so good, so b-beautiful.” You’re a bumbling mess, but you want him to feel good too, to know what he’s doing to you, to know that he deserves this. Deserves to be wanted. 

You feel wetness on his cheeks as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. “Always wanted you,” he whispers again against the shell of your ear. “Always gonna want you.” 

The tension snaps, and you feel blaring white heat ripple through your body. Logan somehow buries himself deeper inside you as you come, your walls squeezing him tighter. 

“F-fuck,” he groans. “Where do you want—”

You cut him off this time. “Inside, please,” you pant. “Safe.” He curses under his breath and calls out your name as he fills you up. 

“So perfect,” he whispers. “So fucking perfect.”

His thrusts slow down as he finishes, and he slowly pulls out of you. But he doesn’t pull away. He keeps you close, moving you both towards the headboard. It takes a minute, but he manages to keep you close to his chest as he undoes the covers and gets you both inside them. 

Logan holds you tightly, peppering kisses against your temples every now and then. 

He’s the first to speak. “When I said always…” He trails off. You brace yourself for the worst. It was just the heat of the moment, bub. ‘M’sorry I said it. This shouldn’t happen again. It was a one-time thing and I—

“I meant it.”

You look up at him, eyes wide. He smiles. But it’s not that cocky smile, not that self-satisfied shit-eating grin. It’s that other thing again. Longing. 

“I meant it, too.” 

tags: @cypherpt5fttaehyung

[seresinhangmanjake]

Forgetting

Jake Seresin x reader

Summary: Jake forgets to pick you up at the airport because of his ex, and for the first time, you think maybe you and Jake aren't mean to be.

Notes/Warnings: Angst, but ends fluffy. Fighting. Cursing. This was a request that I said I'd have done in a couple days and it took me a week and a half. Sorry about that. Also, please be gentle. I haven't written for Jake in what feels like a millennium.

Words: 2700

Jake Seresin Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag List

As much as it would kill you to know that he could be hurt, you hope he’s hurt. You hope he’s on his way to the hospital to receive life-saving treatment because if he’s not hurt, if he’s not receiving life-saving treatment, then he simply forgot about you. And that makes your heart want to claw its way out of your chest and scamper across the floor until it’s well out of your range to catch it. 

Your call goes to voicemail for the fourth time. You send your twelfth text: I hope you’re ok. I landed an hour ago. Please call me. Nothing different than the eleven other messages that have gone unanswered. Forty-five more minutes pass of you sitting on a bench by the airport exit before you finally surrender your last shred of hope and call Bradley to come save you. 

Within the hour, you’re sighing in relief, the sight of a friendly face almost bringing you to tears. He approaches you with open arms and you fall right into the embrace, comforted by the hug that should be in your boyfriend’s arms, and the warmth that should be from your boyfriend’s body, and the forehead kiss that should be from your boyfriend’s lips. 

“Please tell me he’s ok,” you say against your friend’s chest. 

A heavy palm rubs up and down your back. “No one could get ahold of him.”

Your head jerks back so you can meet his eyes. “Oh my god!”

“I’m sure he’s fine, kid. Don’t worry.”

“How can you say that? He was supposed to be here and he’s not and–” You pause when Bradley looks away from you, and a hefty stone settles in your gut. You know your friend well. He’s a good man, honest but sensitive, and when that honestly meets that sensitivity, it results in his inability to look someone in the eye if he thinks the truth might hurt them. You’ve seen it a hundred times, but never with you. 

Your posture wavers with your lengthy exhale. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Another great thing about Bradley: he doesn’t make you play any games. You don’t have to jump through hoops. You don’t have to ask the right questions in the right way in order to get what you need out of him, unlike many men, your boyfriend included, who recently has found ways to skitter around telling the full truth. 

“Javy said he saw him a couple of hours ago,” Bradley says.

Your back teeth clench. Your mind shoots to one conclusion. “With her?” you ask. Bradley’s eyes drift from yours again and you nod, a tear at the ready to leak down your cheek. “He forgot about me because he’s with her.”

“We don’t know that for sure, and–”

Your hand scrubbing down your face cuts him off. Your fingers pinch the bridge of your nose before you suck in your whimper and say, “Rooster, why did he even ask me to come here?”

“Because he…I mean, we thought he–”

“You thought he gave a fuck about me.”

“He does,” Bradley says, stressing his words in an attempt to reassure you. “He never shuts up about you.”

“Sure,” you say. “He gives so much of a fuck that he forgot about me to be with his ex. How can you explain that?”

Rooster sighs. His hands slip into his jeans pockets just to have something to do with them. “I can’t.”

“Exactly.” 

No one can explain it. Not you, not Bradley, not Jake. Everyone you know back home would be telling you to run for the hills right now. They were already wary of this ‘Navy guy’ that they’d only met twice around the holidays, who lives a decent distance away from your entire life and who constantly requests that you be the one to hop on a plane rather than the other way around. 

For the duration of your time together, you’ve been understanding of that sacrifice. You know his schedule doesn’t allow impromptu trips out of state, but that hasn’t made it any less exhausting for you. And maybe that’s a sign. Another sign. A nail in the coffin. Maybe you and Jake aren’t meant to be. And why would you be? You met him on a brief vacation to visit a friend who doesn’t even live in the same town anymore, and somehow, during those few days, he convinced you to take a chance on him. So you took the leap. But being that bold doesn’t guarantee you won’t fall flat on your face, and you think that’s exactly what’s happening. You’ve tripped over a guy only to realize he doesn’t care about you to the same degree that you care about him. 

However, you’re not the type to avoid confrontation. If Jake Seresin is going to mistreat you because of his ex, then he is going to do it to your face. He’s going to look you in the eye when he shows himself to be the liar he is. It may hurt more to go to him rather than get on the next plane home without so much as taking in a breath of fresh Californian air, but you’re too upset to let that thought fully develop, and a moment later, Rooster is following your stomps out the door. 

—

You find him at the Hard Deck, standing at a hightop with a beer glass in his hand that clinks against the one in his ex’s before he takes a sip. Bradley’s comforting hand lands on your back in solidarity. You only met him because of Jake, but the two of you bonded despite their differences, and having him by your side now makes him nothing short of a life-saver. 

He helps guide you through the crowd to the table, and when Jake spots you, he chokes around the liquid going down his throat. His blown-out emerald eyes rival saucers and his mouth gapes like a fish, but then his stare flicks to Bradley, and those eyes shrink into narrow slits. His face heats to a boiling red. 

“What the fuck!” Jake snaps, shocking the composure right out of his ex’s poised stance. Bar patrons close by turn their heads but quickly return to their own conversations. Jake steps away from the table, coming to a halt in front of you and his squadmate. “What the hell is this?”

You figured he’d be bothered if you showed up with Bradley in tow. And good, that’s what you feel he deserves. Jake’s been wary of the other Dagger’s closeness to you for a while, and even though you know—as does Bradley—that it’s an asinine concern, you have no problem using it against him now. But still, the intensity of his reaction manages to surprise you. You didn’t think he would be this angered by the sight of you with another man that it would have him overlooking his mistake of forgetting you.

Your arms cross. “This is your girlfriend and the guy who saved her when her damn boyfriend left her stranded at the airport.”

“Excuse me?”

Jake’s ex’s prying gaze tugs at your attention, but when you glance over his shoulder to catch her in the act, she quickly looks away—just more proof that whatever the fuck she’s doing with your boyfriend is something to be ashamed of. 

Bradley’s saying something. You can’t quite hear him over the anger-induced fuzzing in your ears, but you’re pretty sure it’s a scolding based on the twisting of Jake’s features as he shoots back his own words of aggression. And then your hand is in his and you’re being pulled through the bar, out the back door, and onto the deck where the only intrusive sound is the lapping of waves on the shore. 

“Why are you here?” he asks. 

You scoff to mask the heartbreak that comes with that question. “Because you asked me to be here.”

“Tomorrow.”

“What?”

“It’s Wednesday,” he says. 

“It’s Thursday, Jake.”

“No, it’s—” he freezes, and you don’t know if he’s tipsy or stupid, but it takes him a minute to come to the same conclusion: it is indeed Thursday. “Fuck,” he mutters.

Your lower back meets the edge of the railing, and you sigh, thankfully keeping in the tears. “What are you doing with her?”

“What the fuck are you doing with Rooster?” he returns much more forcefully. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I called, I texted, I left voicemails,” you tell him, “But clearly, she was more important.”

Jake’s hands pat down his pockets, mouth setting in a frown when he can’t find his phone.

“Don’t bother. Phone or no phone, you forgot about me because of her. Last time I was here, you were late for one of our dates because of her. You spent fifty percent of our time together stepping away to take her phone calls,” you say, trying and failing to avoid the bitter taste on your tongue. “Just fuck her, Jake, if you haven’t already. I only came here to tell you that she can have you.”

You’ve never seen him fall apart the way he does. You’ve never seen the blood drain from his cocky face. You’ve never seen his features break and crack and contort into the vision of pure devastation as they do. His parted mouth must’ve gone dry because his next words come out slightly hoarse.

“You don’t mean that,” he says, but it’s more of a plea than anything. “Why…Why would you–” He swallows. A wrinkle forms between his brows and he shakes his head. “You love me. You didn’t mean to say that.”

You do love him—terribly so—but you’re willing to be one of those people who won’t view love as enough if it also means laying you out as a fool. “Jake–”

“Take it back,” he says. His steps are quick, and then you’re trapped where you stand, his hands on either side of your body, gripping the rail. Eyes drill into yours, and for a second, you feel a pang of guilt. “Please, baby, take it back. She doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“And I mean less.”

“No!” he says. “That’s not true. You’re everything, ok? You mean everything to me. She was just helping me, that’s all.”

“Helping you,” you mimic with a roll of your eyes. “Helping you what? Get off?”

With a little whine, Jake’s head drops between his shoulders, his blond hair brushing your collarbone. “Please. Please quit saying things like that.” His hands slide closer to your body and land on your hips. You don’t push him away—you can't—and his touch softens you ever so slightly.

“Then tell me the truth,” you say. “Right now. I’m giving you one shot.”

His head snaps up. His eyes flick back and forth between yours, ironically searching for your honesty, as if you’re the liar on trial here. 

“It was a surprise,” he tells you. “She’s a realtor now, and for the last few months she’s been helping me find a new place, one that’s bigger than what I’ve got because I was going to ask you to move in with me.” Your heartbeat stutters. A layer of goosebumps coats your arms. When you don’t respond, he continues, “I hate missing you. I hate how unfair it is that you’re always the one to come here because I can’t fly out at the drop of a hat. I know it’s a big step, but I figured if I had a place, I could show you how great things could be. That’s why she and I came here. We were celebrating because I’m signing on a house first thing tomorrow,” he says. “Well, that’s why I’m celebrating, anyway. She’s probably celebrating because she just made a decent commission.”

It’s almost unfair how that new information doesn’t make you feel any less of a fool. Had he told you that under any other circumstances, you’d be leaping into his arms, kissing him like you’ve been deprived of him for years, repeating ‘yes’ over and over between those kisses, but you can’t. You can’t because his explanation doesn’t fix everything. 

“That still doesn’t change that it’s Thursday, not Wednesday,” you say.

“I know, baby. That’s my fault. I was so excited, and I was thinking how perfect the timing was that I would be able to pick you up tomorrow and drive you by the house now that it’s officially mine, but I fucked it up.”

Jake’s thumbs press into your hips, and you’re instantly reminded of each moment in your relationship when you’ve felt that same light pressure on your skin. A gentle claiming. The same pressure you felt when you agreed to be his girlfriend. The same pressure you feel whenever you’re in bed together. 

You sense eyes on you other than your boyfriend’s, and when you turn your head, you find his ex staring right at you, an expression on her face that you wish you could say wasn’t one of distress, but it is. And worse, it’s obviously not distress for herself, but for Jake, as if she’s hoping she wasn’t just a contributor to a bomb dropping on his life. 

Jake’s busy staring at you despite your averted gaze, and in a monotone voice, you say, “She feels bad.”

He doesn’t follow your eyes. “Because she knows I’ve been doing this all for you.”

You blink. Your hand runs down your face before sifting through the strands of your hair. “You really want me to live with you?”

“Of course I do,” he tells you. He’s shaking his head, but you know it’s because he thinks any idea that he wouldn’t want you to be blasphemous. His hand cups your chin. “I love you.”

With a sigh, you push aside the rollercoaster of emotions, the misunderstandings that lead to frustration and hurt, and look him directly in the eye. And where moments ago you thought you saw lies, you see honestly. Where you thought you saw betrayal, you see love. 

“Can I see it?”

—

It’s small—a two-bedroom with a little driveway, the shingle siding painted a blue-gray shade that is more blue than gray; bundles of flowers bloom in the boxes under the windows; a bay window protrudes from the side of the structure facing the beach. And it’s perfect.

You can imagine building a life here. You can picture a dog that you’ll have to build a fence for and children years later that will have you reinforcing the fence because they’ll probably be like their father, and Jake didn’t choose to be a pilot because of his lack of adventurous nature. You look at this house and you can see the core of a family. A house that, no matter how far you go for Jake’s job, will always be home base.

Jake is leaning around you so you can both watch the house from the passenger seat window. “I’d offer to show you around, but I don’t get the keys until morning.”

“It’s ok,” you tell him. “I don’t need to see inside.”

When you say that, he falls back into his seat. The back of his head presses against the headrest. His fingers squeeze the steering wheel with his sigh of defeat. “You don’t like it.”

Shifting your body to face him, you say, “Jake, I love it.”

Just like that, his eyes brighten like a pouting child who was just offered a lollipop, and you can’t help but chuckle. You can’t help but forget everything that happened earlier in the night, all of it seeming so insignificant now, even though you know it’s not, and you both know that if he ever makes the same mistake again, he’ll have hell to pay. But something tells you that won’t be a problem. 

“Enough to live with me?” he asks.

You nod. “Enough to live with you.”

---

A/N: Thanks for reading! Comments make my entire world, so if you liked it, let me know? Thanks :)

[nightingale-prompts]

Danny lives in a horror horror movie-part 2

Part 1

Once again this is inspired by surrealist horror books and podcasts. This is mainly inspired by Welcome to Nightvale more directly with other influences as well.

The people of Amity Park are strange. The entire town was off.

Wes, the teenager that worked late at the gas station was not the talkative sort but he gave quite the few clues.

"You aren't from here aren't you?" He said cleaning the black blood off his face.

"Uh, no. We are hero sent to investigate-" Superman tried to explain but Wes began laughing.

"Heros?! Haha! That's a new one. Alright, nutcases you got me." Wes laughed "New people are great. I only get locals these days."

"Wait, so no one outside the town comes here?" Batman asked, still trying to keep this investigation on track.

Wes went silent.

"No one comes here. This gas station is on the edge of town." He picked up his book again.

"If no one comes to this town why is there a gas station built just outside the city limits?" Batman asked this time more firmly.

"Let me specify. People tend to come here once. People come into town every once in a while and they stay. They don't leave. No one leaves." Wes didn't sound like he was making a threat just saying what he believed.

"That's not normal. Why would that happen?" Batman asked.

Wes sighed deeply as if he had this conversation time and time again.

"People don't just end up here. Usually, the ones that come here are those that want to leave their old life behind. They don't look for this place they just end up here. Sometimes they get freaked out but they settle like the rest of us and just make their place here." He explained but he really didn't feel like it.

When another question popped up Wes just turned his radio to a station and turned it all the way up.

"Good Evening citizens of Amity Park. It is another beautiful night here in our quiet little town. Here at the local public broadcast station, we wish you a great day and we hope that you remembered to not leave your shoes outside your door. Amanda Sawyer forgot last Saturday and hasn't been seen since. Please remember or end up like poor Amanda. This was a warning from the town's public health committee." A young but not too young voice said over the radio. "You know that is the mark of a caring local government. Sure they spend so much on bloodstone alters and bi-yearly mandatory festivals but we all know it's for our health and happiness. Now moving on to current events: A group of strangely dressed visitors are in our town. They are at the Cabbymart Gas Station at the end of town. They are asking Wes a lot of questions and Wes as always is in a bad mood. Hang in there Wes we all have those days. Retail am I right? We'll check in later with an update as this story evolves. Remember to welcome our visitors when you see them. Until then here is the-."

The broadcast was switched off as Wes turned to another station.

"Who was that? What was that actually?!" Flash asked hysterically.

"That's just Danny. He works at the radio station now." Wes grunted still not in the mood.

"Okay but how did he know we were here? We just got here and we haven't even gone into town."

"He just knows. I don't even get what you're asking! Why wouldn't he know, he reports the news?! Look can you guys just buy something or leave?" Wes said exasperated.

The heroes had little chance of getting more answers out of the teen so they went into town. Despite it being past midnight now the people of Amity Park were up and about. Watering their gardens and talking in front of illuminated cafés. They all looked carefree and jovial. Even a woman greeted them like the sight of people dressed in capes and spandex was normal.

But things here seemed out of place. Things just didn't match. Bloodstains made patterns into the sidewalk like children's sidewalk chalk.

The buzz if the radio station broadcast could be heard from window sills.

"We interrupt this broadcast for our sponsor Subway. Subway: Eat your cold dead heart out. Now with that out of the way an update on the revolutionary ghost situation. The mayor had formally declared that he would be kept at the museum where he could parade about however he liked. I'm sure the children of the town will adore his charming way of shooting at nothing and spending an hour to reload. There is also an update on the amusement park now that Mr.Stiches caretaker role has been filled by my friend Sam we can expect the horror house can finally reopen for the season. Buy tickets now. And lastly the update on the stangers in town. The brightly colored fellows are still meandering around town. I wonder what they're thinking. Probably things like: Where are these bloodstains from? What are we doing here? And most importantly. Will I ever see my family again? All good questions."

Amity Park was a strange place. But the people liked it that way. They never blinked twice at the horrid and horrific thanks that happened. Perhaps they were monsters in their own right but unlike the jaded masses of Gotham, they were downright jovial about it. In their world, there weren't demonic entities or ancient gods. What they experienced were things, undefined by mortals. Reality blurred with something else, somewhere else. So they adapted.

It was when the heros was a group of children attacked this Thing with long knurled limp and lips like puss-filled sacs under the watchful eyes of parents did they understand. They were the monsters here.

"Another win for Girl Scout Troop 667 in their hunt. Their parents must be so proud. It brings me back to 4th grade when all the children were kidnapped and brought to the library by the monstrosities we call librarians for the summer reading program. Had it not been for Valerie and her high reading comprehension score and display of berserker rage tactics we would have probably all died. I still remember as she stood over the body of the fallen librarian with the bloodied book Hannibal held aloft. She was an inspiration to us all and the reason we fled to the woods to train under her as her children's militia. Books and knives in hand we well-read warriors set out to keep our town safe. Remember kids of Amity Park, we look to heroes like Valerie and the clawed librarian's hand that hangs around her neck as a symbol of pride. Don't forget to return your library book. The librarians are still alive and while the most feral ones have been disposed of there still is a small population of them left in order to preserve the local food chain and they can smell late returns."

[d0rothydraws]

Luke and Kieran bet you to call Sylus a good boy. Without thinking, you accepted. Content: Light choking, Deep throating, Body worship, praise kink and general highly sexual themes

w/c: 3.8k

ao3: Here

part 2: Here

a/n: This is my first actual Sylus fic I hope I did him justice. The idea of calling him a good boy popped into my head and I ran with it. loosely based off of the oasis card. i could do a part 2 to this if people want it. low key nervous about posting this i havent posted smut in 2 years

Luke and Kieran bet you to call Sylus a good boy. Without thinking, you accepted.

And now, you were at an auction, insisting you came along. Teasing you for being clingy, Sylus accepted your company and now the two of you were sitting at a large dinner table surrounded by very powerful and Important men. They were talking in a language you didn't understand but you didn't really care. Your mind wasn't on the auction or the weapons they were bartering. Your mind was on Sylus. The man beside you so close you could feel the brush of his thigh against yours under your dress.

You tried to be calm. Confident. And for the most part besides your heart that was beating out of your chest, were doing a good job. Even as you moved a hand under the table onto his thigh.

The reaction was minimal, yet the fact you got a reaction in the first place was a good sign. His hand that was holding a steak knife, cutting into his meal tightened. Pausing for a moment before continuing.

You trailed your hand over the inseam of his thigh, a gentle feather light touch. You felt him stiffen under your hand. You knew how sensitive he was. He leaned his lips to your ear, his voice a low rumble.

"Bored with the auction, sweetie? You're the one that asked to come along." His breath was hot against your ear and yet you didn't falter. Your hand resting on the muscle of his upper thigh.

"I can't understand what they're saying. Of course I'm bored." You muttered back quietly only for him to chuckle, sitting back straight in his chair.

You moved slow, your fingers trailing higher up on his thigh until you trailed a finger against the zipper. A hand moved to hold your wrist, firm as his fingers wrapped around your hand.

"Sweetie." He said, his voice having an edge to it. You could feel how your touches have effected him. The warmth under your hand half hard. You bit back a smirk. But before you could continue or respond, the men at the table stood. Large double doors opened as the men entered.

You tried to pull your hand away, getting ready to stand to follow. It was time for the auction to begin. And yet, his grip tightened. Finally you looked up at him as he stood, still holding your hand. Following his lead he walked you into the room. His silence was loud.

The room was filled with rows of chairs and at the front, a stage with cases and boxes. As you went to sit down, Sylus pulled you closer, landing on his lap instead. You gasped softly, looking up at him but his eyes were trained on the stage.

"Just sit still and behave, sweetie." He said into your ear his arms wrapping around your waist ignoring any looks.

You took in a deep breath, feeling him still half hard under you. The auction begun, bids flowed in as they showed off firearms more expensive than you could even comprehend. You bit you lip, getting an idea as your heart spiked.

It was a handgun. Nothing like you haven't seen a million times you were sure Sylus probably even had that exact one. Yet, you hummed, faking interest.

"That one. I want that one" You whispered, leaning your head back against his shoulder as your ass pushed more against his hips. You felt him take in a sharp breath.

"Really out of all of the ones that's the one that catches your eye?" He said with an amused tone, not knowing what game you were playing but he knew that there was one. "I have about 50 of that exact model you can pick from." He said, leaning his lips against your ear, his hands moving to your hips, holding you firmly.

"But I want it." You pouted, looking up at him. "One of my own." His lips twitched into a smirk, an eyebrow lifting.

"One million" he said, his voice cutting through the crowd. Silence settled for a moment before another man with a thick accent countered.

"Two million"

Sylus' eye twitched. All of this trouble for a small hand gun. It wasn't worth more than one, he would know. But he knew the man was just bidding against him to spite him.

"Ten million." Sylus said. A few murmurs erupted. The man who was countering gave a loud scoff. The bid was completed.

You leaned your lips up, brushing against his ear.

"Good boy."

A hand moved to cradle your neck, not choking but still form. You could feel his body stiffen under you. His cock twitching under you. Your body heated up, breath growing hotter at his reaction.

"You're playing a dangerous game, kitten." He purred in your ear, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. You should stop. You finished the bet. But the adrenaline was addicting.

"I'm just telling the truth." You replied back, his hand still firm on your neck, the other around your waist. "I'm not satisfied yet, though." You purred, your hand moving to curl at the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. He made a low sound. "Buy me another one. Be a good boy, and buy me another gun." You breathed into his ear, your voice was hot, needy. Greedy.

His hand on your neck tightened, his hips twitching against your ass as you felt the hardness under you build. Your eyes closed as you let out a heavy breath, blushing as your body began to tingle. You expected him to tell you to shut up. To mock you for calling him that. Not to be into it. Though he didn't outright say it, you could feel how he was slowly losing his handle on the situation.

Instead, he chucked. Soft lips pushed against your ear. "You're pushing it, sweetie." He growled softly, his nails biting the sides of your neck as his words sent a shiver down your spine. You knew you were playing with fire. But with his hand around your neck, people around you glancing to look at the man who just spent 10 million dollars on a simple handgun, you felt over confident.

"Oh sweetie," You retorted, refusing to give in so easily. You knew he liked a fight. "I'm not the one with a hardon right now from being called a good boy."

Your body was standing suddenly, your legs moving to the door before your mind caught up. Sylus' hand in yours as he practically dragged you out of the building. The ride back was quiet, yet the air was thick. You knew he was probably cursing his decision of bringing his bike and not a car, your chest pressed against his back, thighs against him as he drove as fast as the motor would let him.

You didn't have a chance to move off of the bike before his hands were pulling the helmet off of your head. His eyes dark as they looked into yours. His touch was exceptionally gently considering how you figured he'd be treating you right now. His fingers traced your jaw, guiding you off of the bike with his other hand. His hand wrapped around your hip, pulling you flush to his. Sylus' other hand taking your chin between his fingers. "You've been nothing but trouble tonight, kitten." He said, his tone unreadable as his thumb traced the bottom of your lip. You flicked out your tongue, bringing it into your mouth. His lips twitched into a smirk. "What's got you so riled up tonight?" He said with a chuckle, pressing the pad of his rough thumb against your tongue before pulling it back, smearing your saliva over your lip. "I had a bet. And I won." You said, a playful glimmer in your eye as you finally admitted what had been on your mind. "I had a bet with the boys that I wouldn't survive if I called you a good boy." You moved your hand to his cheek, trailing down the muscle of his neck. "And from what I've seen," Your voice dropped to a whisper. "You liked it."

"What a silly bet." He muttered as his hand on your hip pulled you closer. "What makes you think that I liked it?" He said raising and eyebrow. "Why tell you when I can show you." You whispered before moving to take his hand on your hip, thankful that he was following your lead for a change. Though it was always hard for him to deny you.

As you closed the door behind you, you looked up at Sylus, taking a slow breath. You could cut the tension with a knife. Yet, he didnt make a move. He knew this game, and he was willing to play it. At least, until he wasn't. As you stepped closer to him, a hand moved down the buttons on his shirt. "You know, you really are beautiful." You whispered, your words genuine.

"What, are you just going to praise me all night?" He said, a half laugh half scoff as he slid his fingers over your shoulder and under the sleeve of your dress. Your hand on his chest became more firm as you popped a couple of the buttons free. "Yes, actually." You said simply as his shirt opened to expose his chest. You seen his stomach contract as he took in a breath. "Now, lay down on the bed."

It seems you struck a nerve because he listened without protest. Shrugging off his shirt as it fell onto the ground, he laid on the bed. His eyes glued to you as you followed him, straddling his hips as your thighs rested on each side of his body.

You started with his neck. Your lips grazed the skin as you kissed him gently, trailing and peppering kisses down his jaw. "You're listening so well." You breathed against his cheek, his body tense as you rested your hands on his chest. "You really are a good boy." You giggled. He frowned, his eyebrows knotting. "Don't mock me." He grumbled, his breath hitching as your hand gently trailed over his chest. Your lips grazed his as you spoke. "I wouldn't dream of it." Your lips pressed against his in a slow, tender kiss. Your fingers circled his nipples. His breath hitched against the kiss as you added more pressure. You moved slowly. Your movements unrushed, tender. As if you were worshiping him. And in a way, you were. You wanted to overwhelm him with praise. With soft touches and kisses. He shivered softly as you pinched his nipples between your fingers. You broke the kiss, lips caressing the corner of his lips. "I could kiss you all night." You breathed before moving lower on his body. Your hips moved making him grunt as you adjusted. As your tongue trailed the canyon of his chest your hands moved against his sides. You felt his muscles, how they twitched under your hands. How his breath was heavy, his hips starting to become more active as he slowly became more needy. His hand moved to curl into your hair. His head leaning back as his eyes closed. A low sigh leaving his lips as he felt how your soft hands caressed his strong and admittedly tired body. As he felt your tongue flick against his nipple though, his hand tightened in your hair. A low groan that went straight between your thighs filled the room. Letting out a shaky breath in anticipation, you flicked your tongue a few more times. As the bud hardened, you wrapped your soft lips around it, your eyes looking up at Sylus through thick eyelashes only to find him looking back at you. His face was flushed, his eyes slightly glassed over. You had never seen him like this before.

You pinched his other nipple, twisting it between your fingers softly as you sucked the other one and then after a few moments you switched. His hips arched against your body, feeling his thick need tight against his pants from nothing more than a few kisses and touches. "I didn't know you were so needy." You whispered as you began to move lower. Your lips trailed down his stomach, feeling his abs flex under you as you reached his belt. "I like it." You purred, licking the wet patch through his pants earning a low groan from him. "Kitten if you keep teasing me I won't be able to stay still." He warned, his voice strained. The sound of his voice made you shiver, a soft hum of arousal leaving your lips as you looked up at him. Your tongue sticking out to lick the spot again, slowly.

"You can handle it." You said, smirking as you used the words he used against you so long again against him. You slowly sat back up on your heels as you looked at him. "Now, be good and undo your pants for me baby."

His large hands moved to his belt, his hips raising as the sound of metal echoed as he undid the belt, sliding it off and letting it fall off the bed. His hands trailed over the button of his pants. You watched with heat in your eyes as he circled it sensually before popping the button open. His thumbs hooked under his underwear and pants, pulling them down with one movement.

You licked your lips as you looked down at him. Pants around his thighs, his cock hard and dripping onto his stomach as his hands finished adjusting his pants. As he moved his hand to curl in your hair again you pulled back, smirking.

"You didn't ask to touch me first." You said in a playful tone as your finger trailed the thick vein on his thigh up to his cock. He twitched, taking a sharp breath.

"Can.. I touch you?" He asked, oh so obediently. It made your heart flutter.

"No." You said with a low purr as you moved back down between his thighs. Lips trailed up the thick muscle, licking that same vein that your hands trailed seconds before. As he was about to argue, a grunt filled the room as you licked up the bottom of his cock before taking the tip past your lips.

His hands clenched, nails digging into his hands as he struggled to obey your command. You looked up at him, slowly lowering your mouth lower, lower and lower. Your tongue pushed flat against the sensitive tip as you took him entirely into your throat. He groaned louder, his mouth opening slightly as he twitched, his hips shaking as he felt your throat tighten around him as you swallowed his cock.

"Fuck kitten." He moaned, his eyes never leaving you as his breath became labored. You moaned around him, feeling yourself struggle to breathe around him. He was so thick, so large that he reached the base of your throat. Your eyes rolled as you began to bob your head.

He couldn't stop himself from thrusting into your tight little throat. You said no touching, but never not to move. And now, you couldn't talk with your mouth occupied. So, he took full advantage of the situation.

You gasped around him as he met your lips, a wet sound filling the room as his hips thrusted against you. He reached deeper in your throat, swallowing around him he moaned, his head falling back. Giving in, his hand finally curled in your hair. Fingers wrapping tightly around you as he held you still. "I'm sorry, kitten. You're too good." He growled as he rutted into your mouth. A low moan fell out of your bruised mouth as you were silently grateful for the turn of events. As his thrusts became more uneven and his cock swelled more against your painfully tight throat you groaned as hot cum flowed against you. A few more thrusts before he slowly pulled out, a sheen of sweat on his body. His cock, still half hard laid against his stomach. You panted for breath, air painfully filling your lungs again. Gently he brought you up to his lips, kissing you slowly as his hands rested on your waist.

You pulled back giving him a pout. Your voice strained and raw. "That's not how it was supposed to go." You grumbled but blushing as his hands trailed down your waist and to cup your thighs.

"Mm but you would have done the same thing if you were in my position, sweetie." "No, I have more self restraint than you."

"I don't believe you." He whispered, a low chuckle. "Let's test it, shall we?"

[vertigala]

*Grabs you by the throat* Listen to me you TMAGP-loving freaks. Listen to me right now. RedCanary might be the host for this universe's Jonah Magnus.

This is under the assumption that TMAGP takes place in a parallel universe that may or may not have already had the fears in it prior to Jon releasing them at the end of TMA.

RedCanary goes to explore the Magnus Institute ruins. They become paranoid because the Eye is watching them. They pick up a wooden box with strange symbols carved into it. They go to put it back. Next we hear from them, they post an image of gouged out eyes with the caption "Canaries should stay above ground."

They found the tunnels, hence that caption. Then they found Jonah Magnus's body sitting down there, waiting for a new host.

In this universe, the Magnus Institute burned down in 1999. Maybe in this universe Gertrude went through with her original plan of burning the place to the ground after finding out Elias was actually Jonah in 1997. Either way, let's say Jonah's original body is down there, maybe with Elias's body and his eyes and all that, and with his plans foiled, he's just chilling down there waiting for an opportunity which RedCanary then gives him. This is my going theory due to the specificity of the caption "canaries should stay above ground" (referring to the tunnels, and also it being in third-person) and the fact that RedCanary themselves would be pretty unlikely to be able to post that picture of THEIR OWN EYES GOUGED OUT unless it was Magnus assuming their body and identity and being a freak about it.

But there's more.

Narratively speaking, it makes sense for the third voice in the computer to be Jonah Magnus, right? If Jon and Martin ended up in this universe as voices in a computer, the only other person sharing their fate would have to be Magnus, given how TMA ended. Recall, also, the boot-up sequence in the trailer of TMAGP.

[id: a screenshot of the text from the TMAGP teaser, which says “initializing J.01… OK/initializing M.01… OK/initializing J.02… OK”. end id.]

Jonathan, Martin, and Jonah, right? Unless Augustus is gonna be a new J name or this is just an unrelated easter egg but like. It's Jonah right?? Right??? And he's watching the O.I.R.A through the systems like a good little voyeur, and Colin knows it!

So now we possibly have TWO Jonah Magnuses in this universe!! That's absurd!! One from the TMAGP universe now loose and running around in RedCanary's body, and one from the TMA universe trapped in a computer. But if this is true...doesn't that mean there would be two Jons and Martins too?

And listen...I'm thinking about what Jonny and Alex said during that liveshow panel about this story's themes regarding "what makes a human." If we dare to hope that Jon and Martin (and Jonah, if it's his voice in the computer) are going to gain consciousness and once again become proper characters...then, are they going to simply stay in the computer? Or are they going to "manifest" physically? Are they going to UPLOAD themselves into THEIR OWN TMAGP UNIVERSE BODIES?

@doomatix and I have been going crazy over these theories and they were the one that initially considered RedCanary's new identity as Jonah Magnus. Are our facts wrong? Does any of this even make sense? We haven't seen anyone else posting about this particular theory. Someone help us we are rotting. And don't even get me started on how GWEN would fit into this--

[criminalamnesia]

Stay

warnings: enemies to friends, hinted enemies to lovers, Tyler’s sister!reader, mean!scott, bickering, very real tornado danger, mentions of a car crash and physical injuries, not proofread, f!reader

summary: the three time you see storm par’s one and only scott, including the one in which he saves your life.

author’s note: look at me, finally writing something again! I’ve been extremely busy and, truthfully, in a writers slump. I started writing this after seeing twisters, and I just got the motivation to come back and finish it. I’ve been obsessed with this man since that movie, and good lord do we need more fics of him. anyways, enjoy! (also, for my traitor fans— I haven’t forgotten about you! I hope to work on the next part soon!)

the first time you’d seen scott, you’d wanted to break his jaw, and you hadn't even gotten his name.

“get lost on the way to the hillbilly convention?”

his tone is snarky, his eyes full of disdain as he watched you slide out of tyler’s truck.

your eyes had widened, your spine straightening as you registered his unprovoked hostility.

“the fuck is your problem?” you ask, eyes narrowing as you come back to your senses. you look him up and down, huffing a laugh at his clothes.

“you look like you’re going to a fuckin’ business meeting.” you say, coming to a stop in front of him. your cowboy boots dig into the dirt, and the sun beats down on your face.

perfect day for storm chasing, as your brother had said. darkening clouds rolled in the distance, and the wind was steadily picking up. according to lilly's drone data and tyler's instincts, your first chase would occur sometime within the next few hours.

you had been away at college when tyler’s tornado-chasing YouTube channel took off. you’d always loved the thrill of being close to the storms, but even when you came home to visit during summers, tyler refused to let you tag along.

until now, that is. now that you’ve graduated with a degree in meteorology, just like him. he had always accused you of wanting to follow in his footsteps.

“don’t mind storm par over there,” comes your brother’s drawl as he appears beside you, a hand coming down to rest on your shoulder. “the stick up his ass seems to have been lodged a little deeper recently. you’ll get used to it,” tyler grins, barking a laugh at the brunette's scowl.

"haven't seen you before," another man moves to stand beside the brunette. he's also wearing storm par gear, and you watch as him and the taller man share an unreadable glance.

"she's new," tyler responds for you, his wide grin still present as he acknowledges the shorter man with the tip of his hat.

"i'd run while you can, sweetheart," the taller one says, a look of pity in his eyes as he looks back to you. "fucking him isn't worth dying over."

you stare at the man for a moment before bursting into laughter. the storm par pair's eyes both widen, their stares moving from your hysterics, to tyler's rolled eyes, and then to each other.

"you two are supposed to be scientists, huh? the guys who are gonna 'tame tornadoes?'" you throw the last two words in air quotes as your laughter subsides.

the shorter of the two men nods, while the taller opens his mouth once more. "that's right. while you morons are out trying to get yourselves killed, we'll be busy doing shit that actually matters."

"right, right," you nod along, glee shining in your eyes as you stare at the taller one. "you must be so smart, then. where'd you get your degree?"

"MIT," he says smugly, popping the gum in his mouth.

"MIT, wow," you whistle, your eyes finding your brother's. tyler just shakes his head, trying and failing to suppress his laughter.

"you got a degree from MIT, and you're too stupid to tell that he-" you jab a finger towards tyler. "is my fucking brother?"

the man's smug grin instantly falls as his eyes scan you, then tyler, and then fall back onto you. tyler steps forward, smacking a hand on the man's shoulder with a laugh.

"meet my little sister, storm par. may not have gotten a degree from MIT," he says, tipping his cowboy hat to you. you mime tipping an invisible hat back at him. "but she seems to be a hell of a lot smarter than you."

the second time you see scott, you still don't learn his name.

"jesus christ, this thing is huge!" you yelp as tyler swerves the truck back onto the dirt road. he scowls as the storm par truck ahead of him jerks back and forth on the path, blocking his approach.

"how's the wind lookin'?" he asks, his words clipped as his hands grip the wheel tighter. wheat fields ripple on both sides of the road, an ocean of tan as the sky continues to darken.

"pickin' back up," you tell him, glancing down at the laptop in your lap. it was displaying real-time data of the atmospheric conditions. the software had cost a pretty penny, but had been worth it. plus, it had been more than covered by tyler's t-shirt sales. cheesy or not, tyler’s face on a shirt was worth his weight in gold to his followers.

tyler groans as the white truck in front of him cuts him off again.

"ty, just go around!" you yell at him, your eyes widening as you stare out of the passenger side window. the clouds overhead were beginning to swirl.

"i'm tryin' to drive nice," he tells you through gritted teeth. "don't wanna make you sick-" he begins, but you roll your eyes and reach over, jerking the wheel. the car swerves off the road and into the ditch beside it, and tyler scrambles to avoid hitting a wire fence as he swats at your hand.

"what the fuck?!" he yells at you, his eyes cutting to you for a second before focusing back on the road.

"stop tryin' to baby me!" you tell him. "show these storm par pricks what we're made of."

tyler falls silent, clearly debating his next move. you're about to grab the wheel again when his foot slams down on the gas and the truck lurches forward. you cheer, throwing a fist in the air as you laugh with glee.

"just don't tell mom!" he says to you, laughing along.

as the truck speeds forwards, tyler lets off the gas just enough to keep speed with the storm par truck. you lean past him to get a look into the cab, and there's the brunette you'd had the displeasure of meeting a few days ago.

you can see his scowl from here, and your grin is wide as you hold your middle finger up, waving it around to make sure he couldn't miss it. his scowl deepens, and before he can even think of responding to the gesture, tyler hits the gas again.

"what was that for?" your brother asks as you lean back into you seat.

you shrug. "just havin' fun."

the third time you see scott, he saves your life.

it's a week after the middle-finger incident. although storm par and your brother's wranglers have been following the same storms, you haven't had the pleasure of bothering the tall brunette, much less seeing him. you’d caught glimpses, but he seemed to be keeping his distance. you supposed he’d finally grown tired of your constant teasing.

you don't know why you find yourself caring. he's an asshole. an asshole who hates you, your brother, and everything the two of you stand for. who constantly underestimates and looks down on you.

and yet you miss his scowl and the unmistakable pop of his bubblegum.

"hey, you okay over there?" boone asks as he leans over the center console, his head peeking out between the two front seats. you know the question is directed at you, as boone is watching you like a hawk.

"yeah, fine," you shrug, your eyebrows furrowed as you lean down, getting closer to the screen of your laptop.

"ty, turn the music down for a sec," you tell him, and he listens without protest. a rare occurrence, but now wasn't the time for bickering.

what had first appeared to be a measly EF1 had begun to grow. it wasn't dying out, and things were starting to get scarily real as moisture kept feeding into the funnel miles ahead of you.

"this thing isn't stopping," you tell the two men. "you need to tell the rv to turn around. hell, we should turn around."

boone shakes his head, leaning further into your space. his eyes scan your computer screen, and although he's learned a lot from tyler, he still doesn't see what you see.

"nah, it's gonna be fine. ty said it's gonna die out anyways, right? we just need to get in it before it does."

"boone," you warn, turning in your seat to face him. "love you, but shut the fuck up right now." you reach out a hand and grip tyler's arm.

"ty, I mean it."

rain starts pelting the windshield. you can hear the wind howling outside of the truck, and you shudder as hail begins to pound against metal.

tyler mumbles something under his breath as he kicks the windshield wipers up to maximum speed. "you sure?" he finally says.

he turns to look at you as you nod, and those precious seconds are all it takes for the world to spin on its axis.

a fence post slams through the windshield as rain and hail continue to obscure the world around you. you scream and tyler jerks the wheel out of instinct. the truck turns sharply, running off the road. your stomach drops as the truck drops and rises again- your own personal rollercoaster from hell.

"tyler!" you yell, gripping the straps of the harness holding you in.

"workin' on it!" he responds, jerking the wheel the other way. the truck rights itself back on the road, and you close your eyes as adrenaline rushes through your veins.

fuck, the others-

"boone, tell the others to turn around now!" you yell at him, and he's nodding frantically from his seat in the back, his hands fumbling for the walkie talkie in the floor.

"so much for an EF1!" tyler says, and although his tone sounds easy, his face betrays him. you can see the glimpse of fear in his eyes. it mirrors your own.

"yeah, ri-" you begin, but the sentence never fully forms.

you black out as another car slams into the passenger side of the truck.

"c'mon, get up!"

everything feels fuzzy. your head is pounding, and your ears are ringing. pain shoots through your body, engulfing every inch of skin. you think something has to be broken, judging from the numbness you feel on the right side of your body.

"get up!"

your eyes begin to crack open, but your vision is blurry. someone is a few feet in front of you, but you can't make out who it is.

"for fuck's sake-" the voice growls, and you can just hear the faint crunching of glass before your hearing comes back in full force.

the wind is an unbearable howl, and the rain and hail pounding down around you make hearing your own thoughts almost impossible-

your thoughts. what had happened? one second, you're driving and then-

fuck. tyler. boone. where were they?

your eyes shoot open, your body jerking against the harness still keeping you strapped to the leather passenger seat.

you look to your left- to the driver's side- but tyler isn't there. you try to turn you head to see into the back, but a sharp pain in your neck quickly stops you.

"tyler?!" you yell, but your voice is carried off by the wind. you can't even hear your own words.

"boone?!"

"they're fine!" a voice calls to you, and your gaze shoots back to the driver's side. you can see a man crouching by the driver's now blown-out window— which is upside down.

you were upside down. the truck had rolled with the impact of whatever had hit you. everything comes back with devastating clarity, and even though adrenaline pumps through your veins, the pain is beginning to become unbearable.

“can you move?” the voice says. you can’t tell who it is through the spots in your vision and the sheets of rain still coming down.

“I-” you start, pushing your chest against the harness. “I think so.”

“good,” you recognize it as a man’s voice. “then hurry the fuck up and get out!”

under different circumstances, you would’ve scoffed at the order, but now wasn’t the time for defiance. your life was literally on the line, and if you didn’t get to shelter before the tornado engulfed you—

well, you didn’t want to think about that.

you force your brain to gather itself, directing your thoughts toward moving your aching limbs. your left arm is the only one that responds, coming to fumble with the metal buckles of the harness.

the first one unclasps and you swear you could cry from relief.

“any day now!” the man calls, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. you reach your left hand across your torso, working at the clasp on your right side.

“im trying!” you call back. once you get it undone, your arms fall downward as gravity claims them. you groan in pain as your right arm shifts. something is definitely broken, but you can’t afford to give into the pain at the moment.

you reach for the lap belt, tugging at it with a shaking hand. the wind continues to howl around you, and you feel tears pricking the corners of your eyes. hopelessness begins to eat away at you as you try and try again to undo the lap belt, to no avail.

“it’s stuck!” you call out, hoping the man can hear you. “I can’t get out!”

your breathing is picking up. your chest feels tight, and the feeling you still have in your left hand ebbs as you begin to panic.

you don’t want to die. you know that. it scares you shitless.

but you don’t want anyone else to die, either.

you’re stuck. whoever is outside of the truck isn’t. he should run while he can—

“hold on!” you’re jarred from your thoughts as a figure begins to crawl through the hole left by the blown-out window, and that’s when you register your savior.

it’s him, the brunette from storm par. the man who belittled you, who rolled his eyes at every sentence you spoke, and who you somehow found yourself missing.

he’s crawling into the cab, his arms no doubt suffering cuts from the shattered glass littering his path. “I’ve got you,” he calls to you, and when your eyes meet his, there’s no look of disdain. there’s thinly veiled terror.

“you need to leave me,” you tell him, and you can’t tell if the wetness on your face is from your tears or the rain that’s now blowing sideways into the destroyed truck.

“shut the fuck up,” he tells you, groaning as he slices his forearm on a jagged piece of metal.

“im serious,” you reply, your left hand still fumbling with the belt restraining you. “I can’t feel my right side—”

“will you shut up? please?” he heaves out, his face inches from yours now as he reaches for the lap belt.

you fall silent, but not because you’re heeding his demands. no, you’re too busy examining his face. he’s never been this close to you, and you’re taking in every little detail before death comes to sweep you up.

can’t blame a girl for wanting to gawk at a handsome man in her final minutes, can you?

“stop staring at me,” he grits out, his forearm flexing as he tugs at the lap belt. something has the fabric trapped, and although he’s freeing it inch by inch, you’re not sure if—

the belt gives, and his arms leave your lap to cushion your fall, protecting your head from slamming into the metal below you.

he doesn’t say anything, but you watch as his gaze flits over your right side. stone cold as ever, his expression gives nothing away regarding your physical state. you can’t bring yourself to look down.

“im gonna pull you out, okay?” he says, and you absently nod your head. the pain is heavier now— harder to push away. your vision swims as he hooks his arms under yours and shuffles back on his knees.

agony spreads through your thoughts as the numbness gives way to excruciating pain. your eyelids flutter, but the man doesn’t stop. he grunts as he pulls you forward again, slowly but surely removing you from the truck.

“you need to leave me,” you tell him again, your teeth biting into your bottom lip to stifle a scream of pain. “im not going to be able to walk. I’ll just slow you down—”

“jesus christ, you don’t listen, do you? im not leaving you here to die.”

he finally makes his way out of the wreckage, pulling you with him. once you’re free of the ruined truck, he stands on shaky legs— fighting to maintain balance as the wind whips across his figure. he reaches down, scooping you up in his bloody arms, and starts to run as best he can. the rain is so thick you can’t even see a foot in front of you, let alone where he’s taking you.

lightning cracks overhead, followed by thunder so loud it shakes your shattered bones. your head tilts up to the sky, and you watch in horror at what was once an EF1 tornado races toward you. it’s got to be an EF4 by now— maybe even a 5 based off its sheer size.

“drop me!” you screech, your working hand clutching the soaked fabric of his storm par shirt.

if he hears you, he pays you no mind as he continues to struggle against the wind.

with your eyes focused on the impending doom behind you, you don’t even realize when he reaches his destination. he jumps down into a deep ditch, and you hear him groan as his feet hit the ground. he must be hurt, too.

“is she alright?” a voice calls, and your eyes widen as boone comes into view, a large cut across his forehead that looks like it definitely needs stitches.

“not the time!” the storm par man shouts, ducking behind your friend. your eyes catch boone’s over his shoulder, and you give your fellow storm chaser a weak wink. boone’s lips crack into a wide smile, even amidst this horrible storm.

the brunette carrying you falls to his knees, laying your back against muddied dirt. he refuses to let you go, his arms cradling you against his chest as he shelters you with his own body. there’s nothing to hold onto except for him, and you know if the tornado gets any closer, you’ll both be goners.

you close your eyes tightly, welcoming your end despite your overwhelming fear— but it never comes.

you pry your eyes open as the sounds of wind and rain finally begin to subside. the body above yours still clutches you tightly.

“are we alive?” your voice comes out a whisper. your left hand flexes against the man’s chest, and sure enough, it meets a solid body. he’s not an imagination— he’s real. you’re still here.

“yes,” his chest rumbles with the words, and his arms slowly snake out from under you as he sits back on his haunches. his eyes are locked on yours, his icy blues unreadable as he watches your face.

you don’t say anything for a moment. and then,

“you’re the stupidest son of a bitch I’ve ever met.”

his eyes widen in surprise, and his stern facade cracks for the first time— at least, that you’ve seen— and he chuckles.

the bubble surrounding you two quickly pops as tyler’s voice meets your ears. you turn your head and there he is— your brother, running towards you with relief written all over his face.

“oh, thank god,” he says, throwing himself to his knees and scooping you up in a hug. you hiss in pain and he pulls back, his hands on your shoulders as he looks you up and down with a grimace.

“you took the worst of it. those storm par pricks—” his eyes cut to your savior, who is still sitting nearby, watching the two of you. “hit us. you and boone were knocked out, and you were stuck, so I got him first and was coming back, but—”

“ty,” you interrupt, your left hand landing atop one of his. “it’s okay. im okay. we’re okay.”

tyler takes a deep breath and nods, his eyes flitting back down your body, focusing on your right leg. you follow his gaze, grimacing at the unnatural twist of the limb. no wonder it had gone numb.

“I’ve had worse,” you tell him, taking notice of your limp, lacerated right arm.

“now’s not the time to play hero,” your brother chastises, standing up before reaching down and picking you up. your eyes meet your savior’s once more. he’s standing now, too, his arms crossed over his chest as he matches your gaze.

“guess we owe you a thanks, clipboard. and you owe us a new truck.” tyler says, to which the brunette rolls his eyes.

“ty,” you roll your eyes, too, as you keep your gaze locked with the brunette’s. “ignore my brother. thank you for saving my life….” you trail off, realizing, truly realizing for the first time that you don’t know his name.

“scott.” he tells you. you nod.

“thank you, scott.”

he nods back, turning his back to you as he starts to limp back to the road your vehicles had been abandoned at. you doubted they would still be there.

just as you’re about to look away from his retreating form, he glances over his shoulder and gives you a true, sweetly small, smile.

maybe storm par isn’t so bad after all.

[nativegirltapes]

ok so imagine drew and younger!reader having their first real argument, and we know she’s always right!!! <3

pairing , drew starkey x angel!reader warnings , them arguing + drew being a meanie notes, hope yall like this <3 i need dis man bad

ᡣ𐭩˙⋆.˚ 💝

"i just don't get why you need to be out till 1AM with your friends. like what are you guys even doing?" you questioned drew. he told you he would be home around 11, but two hours later there he was.

"i haven't seen these people in ages. we're catching up. ever heard of it?" drew snapped back, his attitude surprised you, he never got like this.

"okay. didn't need the attitude." you huffed under your breath.

"attitude?" drew furrowed his eyebrows and gave you a confused look, like you were the one asking stupid questions. "i walk in the house and you attack me with questions. and i have the attitude?" his voice was still calm, but for some reason it made you even more mad than him yelling would've. it was like he was trying to make you feel stupid.

but maybe that was where the age difference between you and drew stood out the most; arguments. he knew how to remain calm most of the time, he never yelled, even when he was really upset with you. whereas you immediately got defensive and mad. but looked like tonight he was taking a new approach.

"you're missing my point drew."

"and what point is that exactly?" drew looked at you like he was actually waiting for an answer, like his question wasn't rhetorical. you felt so stupid. drew had never gotten so blunt and snippy with you before. you didn't know how to handle it.

"whatever." you walked out of your shared bedroom, shutting the door behind you, feeling the waterworks already forming.

"seriously? you're gonna go run off and cry now?" drew yelled after you. he knew you too well.

after sighing and putting his feelings to the side for right now, drew followed right behind you. where he found you on the couch, crying in your own hands. he felt really bad. "baby, i'm sorry." he sat next to you, embracing you in a hug. "it's just been a long night."

you didn't respond, so drew took that as his opportunity to pick you up bridal style and carry you back to the bedroom.

your head nuzzled into his chest, tears leaving stains on his shirt. "you're so mean."

[ebodebo]

Hey, Waiter!

NSFW CONTENT

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—you meet jason at one of bruce’s charity galas and you fuck

—jason todd x f!reader

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"Honey, cross your legs."

"Honey, sit up straighter."

"Honey, we're at a gala, not a summer blowout in the Maldives."

These were just a few of the many phrases your mother chirped at you since you arrived at this stupid gala. You didn't even want to go, but your mother preached something about how, "we needed to be a united front since your father was going for reelection as a New York senator" or something like that.

It was stupid. Nobody gives a shit about familial ties; they care about your values, goals, and accolades. But there's no arguing with your mother; she's as stubborn as they come.

So, you'd sit pretty, legs crossed, with a pristine posture, biting your tongue when she says you could be sitting straighter or you could smile more. Granted, it was only a couple of hours, and if it kept your mother from turning the world around you into hell personified, you'd gladly plaster a rictus smile to appease her.

"Oh, there's Bruce!" Your mother quietly says between you and your father. "Let's go say hello," she says, gripping your hand and pulling you out of your chair, gesturing for your father to follow along.

Somewhere along the way, your parents move in front of you, sequestering you behind them. So once you all reach Bruce, he only takes notice of them, issuing a polite welcome and thanks for their attendance. Your mother swivels her head to see you tucked away behind her, bringing her hand out, gesturing for you to come in front.

"Hello, Mr. Wayne," you politely say, sticking your hand out, before introducing yourself. He grasps your hand with only a slight hesitation.

"Pardon my shock. I just haven't seen you since you were two," he confesses. You smile, pulling your hand back before your mother steps next to you and places her hand on your shoulder.

"She's grown quite a lot since then, Bruce. Still a little air-heady, but I'm hopeful the more she ages, the more my personality will rub off on her," she laughs, carefully wiping a piece of loose hair away from your face. You should feel offended, but the way her joke landed so poorly, making Bruce lightly cough the awkwardness away, made you feel pity.

"You know Selina," he says, filling in the silence, gently placing his hand on her waist as she delicately sticks her hand out for your father to shake.

Who wouldn't know Selina Kyle? She was drop-dead gorgeous but as sharp as they came. She was dressed to the nines in a designer black floor-length dress. It must have been Celine or Givenchy, so it was definitely over five thousand dollars, which is just pocket change to a guy like Bruce Wayne.

"Pleasure," she coos, pulling her hand away. Her gaze shifts to your mother, slightly narrowing her eyes. It seems your mother is oblivious to Selina's adversary towards her because she eagerly sticks her hand out, ready for Selina to shake.

"Selina. So good to see you." But, instead of shaking your mother's hand, she crossed her arms over her chest

"Mhm. I wish I could say the same," Selina sharply replied before Bruce put his hand on her shoulder in warning. You gave Selina a small smile, smothering it with your hand. She covered her own with her champagne glass as she took a sip.

"She's joking," Bruce amends, signaling for a waiter going around with glasses of alcohol. "Champagne?" He asks, reaching for two glasses from the waiter before handing them to your parents.

Before any more conversation can occur, a man calls for Bruce. "Bruce," The man says, "When do you want to start?" The man questions. Bruce picks up his arm, turning his wrist to check his watch.

"He said he'd be here by now," Bruce sighed, rubbing his temples with his fingers. His eyes were scanning around in search of something—rather someone. He does, however, spot Alfred, who he calls over and asks if he'd seen a guy named Jason.

"It was humorous of you to assume Master Todd would abide by your schedule, Master Wayne," Alfred remarks, his face stone-cold. Bruce checks the time on his watch again, then scans the crowd again.

"Just start the silent auction. I suppose Jason will come when he comes," Bruce suspires, clearly agitated. "See you at the auction," he chimes to you and your parents as he sticks his arm out for Selina to take.

"See you," your mother cheerfully says, though you know the cheeriness is just a facade because once Bruce and Selina walk away, your mother instantly drops the smile.

"Can you believe that woman? She was a criminal for God's-sake. She should be thankful that people like us even mingle with her." Your mother scoffs at your father. He hums along, paying relatively no mind to what she is saying.

While she goes on a tangent about how Selina is just using Bruce to get to his billions, you notice a dark figure heading toward the fire escape that you assume leads to the roof. You don't know why, but your brain is fluttering with the idea that you must follow it. So, you do just that.

"I have to use the bathroom," you interrupt, gently touching your mother's hand. You turn your head away from her, not bothering to turn back when she calls your name.

You walk around a corner to see the fire escape latch slightly ajar. Reaching out, you grasp the lever and push it out, quickly feeling the chilly Gotham air touch your cheeks.

Once your foot touches the stone with a 'clack' from your heels, you see the dark figure lying down, smoke clouding around him. He glances at you, taking a drag of his cigarette and huffing out a string of smoke.

"Didn't think pretty girls would come up here." This mystery guy's voice is deep, and judging by his figure, you can tell he's lanky.

"You know the latch and all."

"Are you calling me incompetent?" You cock a brow, hand on your hip with your purse in hand.

"No, I'm callin' you pretty," he says casually, taking another drag of his cigarette, not sparing you another glance. You hate to admit it, but this guy is pretty smooth, but you wouldn't tell him that.

"Who are you?" You ask, taking a few steps toward him and only turning your head to look at the night sky, which is aglow with billions of little stars. You see all the high-rise buildings, light illuminating the dark streets. It's a shame Gotham is so corrupt and unlawful.

"I should be askin' you that, seeing as you’re on my roof," he tentatively says. You can just feel the smugness in his tone, making you roll your eyes.

"You're a Wayne?" You question, arms crossed, slowly stepping closer to him.

"Somethin' like that I guess," he shrugs, which makes you let out a light laugh.

"You guess? You don't know your own family lineage?" You joke, moving to sit not completely next to him but close enough that you could feel the smoke in your nose. You could also see the outline of his face—strong jaw, pretty eyes, fluttery lashes, and nice lips.

"Why are you so curious?" He glances at you with a sly smirk on his lips. You look at him, then at the cigarette in between his fingers.

"You know smoking kills," you inform, pointing towards the cigarette. He lays his head back on the roof, his lips curving into a smirk before retaking another drag.

"You know what else kills? Poking your head around where you don't belong," he puffs out the smoke as he speaks. You turn your head away from him, trying to conceal your smile. This guy is something else, you think.

"Jason," he adds.

Your eyes widen, and your lips quirk. "Ah, you're Jason." You drag out the 'you're,' getting Jason to turn his head towards you. An inquisitive look is plastered on his face.

"So you've heard of me?" He cockily says.

"I know enough about you to know you're flakey," you raise a brow. He lets out a soft laugh.

"Mr. Wayne was looking for you, and so was everyone else," you clarify.

"Oh, please don't tell on me," he fake pleads, clearly being sarcastic. "Especially to Mr. Wayne."

You roll your eyes, though your lips threaten to smile. "I'm sensing some sarcasm."

"Well, aren't you just a modern-day Poirot.”

You widen your eyes, raising your hands. "Wait, wait. You read classic literature?" You gawk, hand coming to your chest.

"I dabble," he shrugs nonchalantly. You eye him, lip quirking.

"Well, aren't you just full of surprises?" You say, holding your two fingers out, gesturing to his cigarette. "Let me take a puff," you insist.

"Ah, ah," he tuts. "What happened to 'smoking kills?'" He raises a brow, taking a puff of the cigarette himself.

"Sue me, but I'm curious," you shrug. He eyes you, wondering if you're joking. He gives you his cigarette anyway. You take a long drag, feeling the smoke cloud your lungs.

"Easy, easy," Jason warns. "Don't take too much, or you'll—" Before he can finish, you start violently coughing, feeling your eyes well up with tears. "Cough," he finishes, taking the cigarette from your hand as you go to cover your mouth.

"You like this shit?" You say through harsh coughs.

"You get used to it," he answers, not paying attention to the question. He's more concerned about you. "You okay?" His tone isn't condescending—it carries empathy.

"Ya, ya. Took too much," you shyly smile, hiccuping a little, turning your head to look directly at him. He laughs lowly. His laugh is deep and gravelly but still sounds kind. You gulp. God, were you getting turned on by a laugh?

You were facing him head-on, and even in the shitty lighting, you could see the way his Adam's apple bobbed up and down and the way his jaw clenched. Your eyes slowly drift down his face, falling on his lips. He had stuck his tongue on his lips to wet them, giving them a glistening sheen.

"Are you thinkin' about me?" His voice is dry. You sharply move your eyes to bore into his, sticking your tongue out to wet the seam of your own lips.

"And what if I am?" You challenge. Suddenly, you can feel your own heartbeat, and your hands are clammy. You can see the gears in his brain working, trying to figure you out.

"Well, are you?" He asks roughly, putting his cigarette out on the roof. You search his eyes, gently biting your lip. His eyes follow you the whole time.

"Guess," you quipped. You hadn't realized you had scooted closer to him, close enough to where he could if he wanted to touch you. This little banter you guys had was getting you wetter by the minute. It was odd. You'd never even met this guy, but you would let him kiss you, maybe even more.

His gaze drifts from your eyes to your lips. "If I were to put my hand under your dress, what would I find?" He gruffly says. Your eyes drift back to his lips, and you bite your own as your chest rises and falls rapidly.

"What would I find?" He urges a little more assertively this time. You rapidly avert your eyes back to him, taking note of the blue hue in his eyes, which has seemingly grown darker.

"Maybe you should find out, Jason," you encourage. Once you give him the go, he's quick to move closer, crushing his lips to yours roughly. It was unlike anything you've ever felt before—like a ton of dynamite just erupted in you, leaving you feeling a buzz on your skin.

You reached up to grab the back of his neck, pushing him further on your lips. He groans as you sink one of your hands into his hair, gripping your waist in his hands and pulling you so you straddle his lap.

"Do you hook up with every girl you just meet?" You murmur into his lips, slipping your tongue between the seam of his moist lips.

"You hook up with every guy you just meet?" He imitates, in between breaths, gripping your waist tighter as you tug on the roots of his hair harder.

"Touché," you whisper, breathing labored as he presses deep kisses down your neck. He works his way down until he is kissing the top of your breast. Slowly, he brings his hands up to slip the strap of your dress down, exposing your breasts.

He kisses a straight line down the top of your breast to your sensitive nipple. His mouth is hot on your skin, especially in a place so sensitive. You moan as his mouth fully encompasses your nipple, lightly sucking, sending goosebumps down your skin.

You reach for his tie, grab it with your hand, hurriedly untie it, and throw it to the side before carefully undoing the few buttons on his jacket.

"It's a shame no one got to see your suit," you murmur as Jason returns his lips to yours, pressing feverish kisses into them before slipping his tongue into your mouth.

"Ya? Why's that?" He mumbles against your lips, as his hands fumble with his zipper trying to pull it down. You slid the jacket off of Jason's shoulder.

"Because you look fucking hot," you say, looking into his eyes, noticing the way his pupils dilate, hunger written all over his face. He quickly slips his slacks down, along with his boxers. Fumbling with the pocket of his jacket, he grabs a condom.

"Really?" You scowl, as he rips open the gold packaging with his teeth, slipping it on himself.

"What? Don't give me that look," he urges, pooling your dress up around your waist, sliding your panties to the side, as he guides the head of his cock inside your glistening cunt.

"Don't act like it didn't come in handy," he appeals as his cock slips inside you easily. You both groan at the contact, gripping each other tighter.

"Fuck, you were wet. Just slipped right in," he grits as you rock yourself against him, desperate for more friction. His hand is in your hair, pushing your face towards his to share messy, hot kisses as his other hand helps you set a pleasurable pace.

You throw your head back as he thrusts into you, eliciting a moan from you. "Fuck, Jason," you mewl as you feel his lips back on your breast, sucking and nipping with his teeth. Your hands grip tighter in his hair, hoping this will give you some kind of stability.

"Feels so good. So fuckin' good," Jason groans as he feels you clamp around him. You press your lips back to his, aching to feel the vibrations of his groans against your face. He grips the sides of your face to deepen the kiss, his teeth clashing with your own.

You continue going up and down on his cock, occasionally he thrusts himself into you to satisfy his urges and lets you grind against him to chase your own high. He takes your nipple into his mouth one last time before you moan so loud you're surprised the Gotham City Police isn't called, and Jason is spewing curses and groans as you both come.

Your bodies are both buzzing and twitching. Chests heaving so heavily you're suprised your hearts didn't just bust straight out of your chests. Jason pulls out once you aren't panting as hard, guiding you off his cock as you fix your dress. He slips the condom off, groaning at the touch, before tying it at the end. Then, he slips his jacket back on along with his slacks.

You haphazardly stand, holding onto Jason's shoulder to keep your balance. Once you gain stability, you awkwardly cough out a bye, unsure on how to make this any less weird and head back towards the fire escape. You only turn when you hear him say something. Turning on your heels, you look back at him, still in the same spot.

"I, uh, never caught your name?" He yells, his hand scratching the back of his neck.

"Didn't throw it, Jason," you shout back, making a lopsided smile grow on his face. Then, turning to go back through the fire escape, you catch a smile spread across your face as well.

Maybe being forced to attend one of Bruce Wayne's galas wasn't so bad.

a/n: jason todd = thought daughter

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