#i squealed like a fucking tea kettle

[zara-renata]

Sylus gets a headache | ao3 | other fics in this 'series'

Summary: Sylus has secured the promise from you that he can use your place as a safe house if he's in the area and needs it. Sylus's definition of "need", it turns out, might be different than your own, as illustrated by the first time he shows up unannounced at your door.

Sylus x gn reader, Sylus x mc, no use of y/n. This story contains: fluff, banter, Sylus has a hard time keeping his hands to himself, legal arguments, bad puns, self-indulgent writing, repetitive finger caressing, insomnia that Sylus is determined to vanquish by any means, Xavier is an innocent victim in all this and has no idea, except has Xavier ever been innocent in his entire life? CWs: insomnia, consumption of alcohol, profanity SFW, mostly. With some filthy innuendos at the end. It's Sylus, after all.

It has been a few days since you had the best night’s rest you can remember on the back of a certain miscreant crime lord’s motorcycle, and you’re once again preparing for a long, torturous night of staring at the ceiling and trying to catalogue all the classes of wanderers in an attempt to lull yourself to sleep—Nero’s suggestion. You have your doubts about whether it will work, but he gave the advice so earnestly after overhearing you talking to Tara about your insomnia that you feel obligated to give it a go. Sylus would probably scoff and say something about ‘people pleasing,’—you shake your head. That man does not get to live rent free in your brain, no matter how suspiciously kind he was the last time you saw him.

The kettle squeals, and you pour the boiling water into your chipped “World’s Greatest Hunter” mug that Caleb had gifted you once you were admitted into the Association’s ranks. The hot liquid steams soothingly into your face as it drowns a chamomile teabag, and you try not to think about the last time you saw him, when he was smiling. Patting your head. Whole, and so, so vibrantly alive. You take a deep, shaky breath.

After a suggestion from Tara, you add some honey and then slice a lime and squeeze the juice into the tea, absently stirring the spoon and gazing out your balcony window. You’re home early for once, and the sun is only just setting. You can’t see it through the high rises around you, but dusk filters down into the streets below your flat. The gentle sounds of the city moving into late evening drift up, the traffic like waves crashing on the shore, laughter and shop bells tinkling, a dog barking somewhere.

Suddenly, your doorbell chimes through your apartment and startles you out of your reverie. Did you forget that you had ordered something to be delivered today?

Without thinking too hard about it, you take your still piping-hot tea and pad to the foyer to answer the door.

Only to have your sense of calm shattered as you fling the mug out of sheer, instinctual self-preservation that Zayne accuses you of not having, when you see who is standing on the other side.

Quicker than your brain can actually process Sylus’s presence outside your flat, scarlet-night tendrils have prevented the mug from shattering on the floor, but have failed to stop the liquid from continuing its projectile path right onto his red, standing collar shirt and black vest.

“The fuck, Sylus?”

“You really, and I mean really, need to work on your greetings, kitten,” he tells you calmly, evol delivering the mug into his waiting hand while he holds the suitcase he has in the other hand away from his body to avoid being dripped on by his now soaked torso.

“Sorry, you were the last person I was expecting.” You wince, heart still threatening to beat its way out of your rib cage.

“Oh, expecting someone, are we?” he lifts a dark silver eyebrow.

“No, but least of all… you.” You flap your hand in his general direction. “What are you even doing here?”

“How about,” he drawls, “you let me in, and I’ll tell you. You wouldn’t want your neighbors to get curious and come to inquire about the mess I’m making on your doorstep, would you?”

You stare at him for a moment longer, trying to think of a way out of having him in your space, again, but you’re tired at the end of another long day, another long week, another long month and this whole entire fucking year. Trying to get rid of him will take more energy than just letting him do what he wants so that he’ll go away again. You run a hand down your face and shuffle aside.

He enters, and the scent of him fills the small foyer, warm and mouth-watering. He sets the briefcase and mug on the floor, removes his dress shoes and places them neatly by your own hastily-kicked-off boots next to the step leading into the rest of your flat. He then picks the mug back up and reads what’s written on it.

“World’s best hunter, indeed.” He snorts softly, eyes flicking from your face to your thin tank top and sleep shorts covered in grinning little bounce, bounce planet blobbus, to your bare feet. “Is this how the world’s greatest hunter always answers the door to unknown visitors?”

“It was a gift,” you say defensively, snatching the mug from him and cradling it to your chest. “And the only people who would be at my door this late is Xavier borrowing a cup of sugar for some doomed baking experiment, or a delivery person. I’m sure they’ve seen much worse than this,” you sweep your hand down your body in a dismissive flourish.

“Oh, I’m sure they’ve seen much worse.” Sylus frowns slightly.

“Yeah, so if they don’t like it, they’re welcome to move on to their next delivery.”

“Or buy their own sugar,” Sylus murmurs, reaching out to run a finger along your knuckles as you clutch the mug. “And who gave you this highly accurate mug?”

You hesitate, knowing that his face is going to do something complicated, like it always does, when you mention your family. But fuck it, he asked. If he doesn’t like the answer, he can also move on to whatever his next nefarious errand is. “Someone who was like a brother to me.”

“Brother, huh,” he says softly, still gently stroking your skin. “Well, he wasn’t wrong in this.” His hand falls back to his side. “Invite me all the way in, kitten. With your words,” he commands.

“And why should I do that? The deal was to let you come in. You’re in now. You don’t need to come in any further. Now it’s your turn to honor the deal. Why are you here?” You glare up at him, your foyer feeling minuscule with his big body and presence filling it.

“You offered me your place if I ever needed it,” Sylus narrows his glittering eyes. “I needed it today before you flung steaming liquid all over my clothes. And now I need it even more.” He looks pointedly down at the still-dripping clothes in question.

“What did you originally need it for?” You stall, the guilt of throwing a mug full—half! Half full! of tea at him starting to creep in.

“How about you invite me all the way into your home, with your words, help me take care of this mess you caused,” he waves a lazy finger at his torso, “and I’ll tell you.”

“But you already promised to tell me why you’re here in exchange for the initial value of me letting you in, and I let you in. I already paid. You can’t make me pay twice for the same goods,” you protest.

“Remind me to take you with me the next time I have contract negotiations. You’re more useful than my own legal counsel.” He pauses, considering you. “Circumstances have changed. Force majeure prevents me from fulfilling my original promise without requiring additional time and means to fulfil that promise. You owe me the opportunity to successfully deliver what I owe you.”

“What, exactly, is preventing you from telling me why you originally came to my home right here in my entryway?”

“The consequences of an unforeseeable natural disaster,” he answers with a little helpless shrug. “Namely, the trauma of nearly getting drowned in tea following almost being taken out by a mug launched with your god-like strength. Kitten, your assault is the equivalent of an act of god, and I can’t be responsible for the fact that I now need a dry shirt and a safe place to recover from the shock of almost being murdered by your tableware.”

You can’t help it. It has been so long since you’ve actually laughed out loud, so the noise that comes out of you doesn’t even sound human. You’re laughing, and you can’t stop. The affronted look on Sylus’s face in response to your ugly-snorts, causes you to laugh even more, and you’re suddenly bending over, holding your knees, laughing like you might die if you stop.

After a long moment, when you are finally able to breathe again, you straighten and find Sylus looking at you with a soft expression, one corner of his wide mouth slightly lifted… which is alarming. But you’re too filled with gratitude for the relief of laughing that his absurd exaggeration just gave you, so you refuse to think about anything at all too hard right now. You give in.

“Sylus, would you do me the honor of coming into my home? You can tell me what the hell you’re doing here after I find you a dry shirt.” You sarcastically bow as low as you can, your arms uplifted to gesture him forward.

“I suppose I can’t refuse such a graciously extended offer,” he says, as if resigned to a terrible fate, but his smile is smug and he wastes no time striding into your living room while unbuttoning his vest. He gently lays it over the back of your couch, and begins unbuttoning his shirt. You force yourself to stop staring as the pale skin slowly being revealed with each flick of his long fingers and head to your bedroom.

You paw through your chest of drawers, trying to find a shirt that will fit his broad shoulders and chest, but all you manage to do is make even more of a mess in your barely organized drawers. You stand, remembering the hoodie Xavier leant you after a recent, particularly messy battle on a chilly night. You move to your closet where you had hung it carefully to remind yourself to give it back to him after having washed it. You pull it from the hanger, turn around, and squeal loud enough to shatter glass.

Sylus is standing right behind you, chest bare, black slacks hung low around his narrow hips, and you did not heard him come in.

“I thought we were past the terror stage of our friendship, sweetheart,” he says, cocking his head, the same ruby stud earrings he was wearing at the club flashing in the light. “But that’s twice today that I’ve frightened you to the point of violence. Am I really that scary?”

“You keep… appearing, out of nowhere. A little warning would be appreciated,” you huff, heart pounding. You don’t know why you’re so nervous around him. Really. It has nothing to do with the broad expanse of creamy skin and pillowy man-tits shoved in your face at the moment. “And honestly, considering the fact that our friendship started with you choking me out and keeping me captive for days, it’s a wonder that I’m not more scared of you,” you flare, because yeah, how dare he act like you should be over the absolute shit-show of your first encounter, when you’ve hardly had any time to get to know him. That’s why you’re nervous. There is no other possible explanation. A couple friendly interactions do not make up for how much of an evil bastard he was when you first met him.

“Would you like me to wear a bell when I’m here, then?” he asks, conveniently ignoring the reminder regarding how he treated you not so long ago.

“How about you just stay out of my bedroom and stay where I can see you at other times,” you snap, feeling violent again at the intrusive thought of Sylus wearing a collar around his thick neck, cute little bell dinging every time he moved.

“I’ll do my best,” he says absently, clearly distracted by his thorough inventory of your bedroom as he takes in the tumbling plants in mismatched pots on floating shelves hanging over the unmade bed, the army of plushies scattered over the bunched up mountain of duvet and pillows. Your bed used to be your sanctuary. The place where you could find rest and relaxation after exhausting battles and long days squinting at the computer filing incident reports. Now it just gives you anxiety. You try to pull his attention away from the chaos of your former safe space by holding Xavier’s hoodie out for Sylus to take.

“Here, this might fit you.”

Sylus looks down at your offering, crosses his arms, and takes a step back, as if the hoodie is so offensive that it warrants recoiling physically from it. “That’s quite a big hoodie for you, even for days when you want to be comfortable,” he says evenly.

“It’s not mine, but it’s clean, and I’m pretty sure it’s the only thing I have right now that will fit you,” you say, shaking it a little in the universal, impatient gesture of just take it already for fuck’s sake.

“And who is its actual owner?”

“Xavier.”

“In the habit of wearing your partner’s clothing, are we?” he asks, still staring at it, the disdain now plain in his assessment of the sweatshirt.

“Uh, sometimes? We were on a mission recently and my jacket got torn to the point of uselessness, and it was cold. He let me wear his hoodie so I wouldn't be cold. It's been washed since then, so it's clean. I’ll just wash it again when you’re done using it before I return it. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

After what seems like a ridiculous amount of time for him to apparently make some mental calculations that only he will ever understand, he finally takes the soft hoodie from you, fingertips brushing yours as he grasps the fabric. You can’t figure out why he he suddenly looks more smugly evil than you’ve ever seen, with his lips curved up in a sardonic smirk. “Oh, of course, I’m sure he will not mind at all.” He pulls the hoodie over his head and shimmies a little as he drags it down is body; it’s a little tight around the shoulders, but you don’t think it’s tight enough to permanently stretch the fabric.

After it’s on, he tugs the collar up to his nose and inhales deeply.

“What are you doing?” you ask, as if you can’t see perfectly well what he is doing.

“It smells like you,” he answers, shameless, as if that is a perfectly reasonable answer to your question.

“Well, I did wear it, and wash it with my normal detergent and it has been hanging in my closet for a while, so…” your voice trails off.

“And soon it will smell like me too,” he continues, letting the collar fall with a satisfied flick of his fingers.

What even is this conversation? “Can you just be normal? For once?" A look of boredom is all the response you get, so you continue. "Now get out of my bedroom. Come tell me why you’re here in the first place.” You stride past him, making your way into the living room.

He follows you obediently and plops down on the couch, and just like last time, spreads his legs wide. This time, he is able to rest his arms on either side along the back of the couch, effectively occupying the whole damn thing. He sits quietly, looking at you expectantly.

You stand, arms folded, a safe distance away from the couch near the kitchen island.

“Well?” You prompt.

“It’s customary to offer your guest a refreshing beverage upon receiving them in your home. I believe I offered you wine the first time I hosted you in my own home.”

“Hosted?” He can’t be serious. “What a generous euphemism for ‘unlawfully imprisoned,’” you bite out.

“Po-tae-to,” he says serenely, “Po-tah-to.”

“Sylus,” you warn—about what, you’re not sure. He wants a beverage? Okay, perhaps you’ll fling more hot tea at him if he doesn’t start talking.

“Kitten.” He continues gazing at you, clearly in no hurry to move things along.

“If you don’t tell me, right now, why the hell you showed up at my place unannounced, I will report you as a burglar and have you removed by the authorities.”

“But then how will you explain to Xavier why I’ve been arrested wearing his sweater?” he asks, eyes wide, all concern for what your partner’s thoughts on the matter would be, and what they would mean for you.

“Burglars have been known to be creeps and go rooting through their victims’ closets and wearing their clothes! I’ll just say you were wearing it when I got here. Maybe he’ll be worried that it’s him you’re actually interested in harassing,” you snicker, trying to picture Xavier’s reaction.

As you’re speaking, Sylus pulls out his phone and fiddles with it with a bored expression on his face.  

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I boring you? Perhaps you should go find something more interesting to do and leave me in peace,” you grind out after you’ve finished and notice his complete lack of attention.

Your irritation is interrupted by a notification on your phone. Since Sylus is so busy messing with his, you grab yours from where it has been lying on the counter since before Sylus interrupted your peaceful evening staring out into the city. You see that you have a new message from… the man currently oozing across the entirety of your couch, head lolled to the side and watching you with a hint of amusement curving his mouth.

You open the chat, and your eyes widen at the conversation that never fucking happened currently loading into your chat history, with time stamps corresponding to when Sylus showed up at your door.

You: Oh Sylus, my big, handsome partner in crime, I think there’s an intruder in my flat and I’m so scared!

The Sytuation: What makes you think theres an intruder in your home, kitten? Im on my way.

You: There is sugar missing from my pantry! I just bought a new bag yesterday, and it’s gone! Oh please, my dark knight, come protect me from the sugar thief who should buy his own sugar and stop coming to my place to pilfer mine!

The Sytuation: Of course, sweetie. Go wait by the door, Ill be there in 5.

“What. Is. This. Fuckery,” you demand, thrusting your phone in his face.

He shrugs. “You threatened to lie about why I’m here in a bid to get rid of me. Did you not expect me to counter your move to ensure that no one will believe you?” he pauses, and then narrows his eyes. "Did you really save me in your phone as 'The Situation,' with a Y?"

"Punny, right? My phone doubles as my work phone. You really think I'm going to save your real name in my contacts? I might as well just save you as 'Sylus Qin, leader of Onychinus, most wanted criminal in the N109 zone," you grumble. "And trust me, that's the nicest name I could come up with."

"Punny," he repeats derisively, unimpressed.

“And don't derail. What is this nonsense about a sugar thief?” You wave the phone again.

“Your colleague should learn to stock his own pantry if he wants to engage in… what did you call them? Doomed baking experiments?”

“How did you even… why does it look so real?” You gaze down at the texts that look so authentic that if they hadn’t been filled with such bullshit, you’d be doubting your own sanity about whether the conversation had really happened.

“You’re really surprised that faking evidence, alibis and dirt on my opponents is a part of my vast skill set? I’m hurt that you underestimate me so.” He looks at you like he’s disappointed, a little pout pulling down his stupid beautiful mouth.

“For fuck’s sake.” You’re done. The longer you resist, the longer Sylus will be in your flat, driving you up the wall. “Fine. Fine!” You set your phone down again and throw up your hands. “What do you want to drink, Sylus?”

“Two fingers of gin, if you have it. Or brandy. Or vodka.” He thinks for a moment. “I’m not feeling too picky tonight.”

“I don’t keep hard liquor in my house, you alcoholic. I have a half-open bottle of rosé in the fridge. Will that satisfy his lordship?” You turn resignedly to trod your way to your fridge.

“What vineyard and vintage?” he asks, perking up.

You open the fridge and pull out the bottle. You squint at the label. “I dunno. It has a cute fish on the label, so I bought it.”

He looks at you like you just murdered Mephisto, and you begin pouring the pink liquid into another mug. This one says UNT on the side in big block letters, matching the size of the handle so that when you hold it, the handle looks like a matching C. You walk back to where he’s sitting, and you think that maybe your smile looks as smug as Sylus’s usually does when you hand him his drink.

He takes the mug from you, snorts when he reads the side, and then look at its contents dubiously for a moment.

“You taste it first,” he finally says, looking back up at you.

“Worried I poisoned it?” You’re still grinning.

“As you say,” he says, tilting his head.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t demand beverages from people you don’t trust then.”

“I trust you, just not your taste in wine after learning you choose bottles based on the cuteness of the label. Indulge me,” he murmurs. “Prove to me that you’re willing to drink it, and that it’s not just swill you’re trying to get rid of by offering it to me.”

You take the mug from him and lift it to your lips, taking a sip, watching him over the rim as you swallow. His nostrils flair, and he lifts his hand in a gesture for you to return it to him. Instead of giving it back, you take one more big gulp, and his brow furrows. Only after you've slowly swallowed again do you comply, relishing the warmth spreading through your body as you lower the mug for him to take. He brushes your fingers again as he takes it back. He turns the mug, so that his mouth hovers where yours just was. He then closes his eyes and inhales, gently swirling the liquid inside. Eyes still closed, he takes a sip.

After a moment, he sighs. “Thank you. This is actually not bad, for a rosé.”

“You’re such a snob,” you smile down at him, irrationally pleased that he seems so pleased.

“Life is too difficult, and too short, to waste on inferior experiences. I only like tasting the best,” he says, bright red eyes opening and fixing on you.

He looks up at you like you should be able to draw some deeper meaning from his words, but you’re tired, warm from the wine, and despite how much he winds you up you were just moments ago, right now you’re strangely relaxed for the first time in days.

“Tell me why you’re here, Sylus,” you say quietly.

“You told me I could use your place when I needed it,” he says, just as softly. He takes another drink, rolls it around in his mouth. Swallows, his adam’s apple dipping.

“And why did you need it this evening?”

“I had some negotiations regarding a business acquisition that I’m considering in this part of Linkon City, and they were abhorrently boring. By the time they were over, I had a splitting headache, and the sunlight didn’t help. It would have been unsafe to operate a motor vehicle under those conditions, so I thought I’d come and wait for it to pass in my newest ‘safe house,’ he answers gravely, as if getting a headache was a perfectly logical reason to crash your evening and take over your couch. “Wouldn’t want to endanger the innocent citizens of Linkon City with reckless driving, now would we?”

“Aren’t all of your shady business deals done under the cover of darkness? Why were you here at a meeting during the day?”

He’s holding the mug in one hand by his fingertips now, along the rim, slowly swirling it. He crosses one long leg over the other and answers languidly. “You’re assuming that today’s business was ‘shady.’”

“So your business today was legitimate?” You’ve been standing for awhile now, and begin to shift from bare foot to bare foot.

He hums in acknowledgement. “My business interests are as varied as they are successful. You insult me by looking so surprised.”

“Well I would never want to insult you,” you drawl. “So that’s it? You got a headache and decided you’d crash my evening?”

He nods, touching his temple and grimacing. “It’s still pretty bad, to be honest.”

“The daylight bothers you that much?” you ask, genuinely curious. You have always assumed that it was the nature of his occupation and perhaps just a proclivity for being a night owl that explained his nocturnal existence, but now you’re wondering if it’s not something deeper that has him avoiding it as much as possible.

You finally decide to give your tired feet a break and perch on the little corner of couch cushion that has been freed for use by Sylus crossing his legs. “If sunlight bothers you that much, what could possibly be so important to come out in it today?”

“Are you really asking about the details of my business ventures, sweetheart?” he asks in what you suspect is feigned astonishment.

“And if I am?”

“Then I’ll tell you,” he responds easily.

“Then I am.”

“I’m in discussions for acquiring a chain of entertainment venues in Linkon City.” He leans his head on the couch’s backrest and lets it roll to the side to keep looking at you. He catches the look of disgust that is no doubt obvious on your face.

“Entertainment venues,” you say flatly.

“Yes. Is there something wrong with that?”

“What kind of … entertainment venues?” you ask, hating yourself for wanting to know. It’s his business if he wants to buy porn shops, or strip clubs, or brothels—your stomach twists, and you refuse to consider why.

“What kind of ideas are racing through that fascinating brain of yours?” he asks, reaching up and running two of his fingers along your temple, brushing your hair away from your eyes.

“Nothing,” you bite out, turning your face away from his touch. You normally dislike how you have a hard time concealing how you’re feeling, but you particularly hate it right now.

“Mmhmm,” he murmurs. “Then, to answer your question, it’s a chain of arcades.”

Your brain grinds to a halt. Did he just say—

“Arcades?”

He nods, and winces, closing his eyes. You’re starting to believe that his head is actually hurting him, and you feel bad for throwing dishware and hot tea at him and refusing to offer him more than the one drink he asked for.

“Why would you be interested in acquiring an arcade chain?”

“Even for odious crime lords, it’s always wise to have a diversified business portfolio.”

You have called him a lot of things both out loud and in your head, but you’d never call him odious. Odorous, perhaps, when he’s sweating heavily after being riddled with bullets. But you have to suppress the urge to chastise him about talking about himself that way.

“Which chain is it?”

“You probably don’t know it,” he says, as if bored with the question. “It’s not a very large chain, but large enough for my interests.”

“Try me! I love going to the arcade when I have some free time. I mean, you’ve seen my plushie collection now that you invited yourself into my house,” you bounce a little on the couch.

“You invited me, kitten. You’ve had a choice, each and every time.”

“Don’t deflect! Answer the question!” You’re quite excited about this. Maybe if it’s a place you know, that has a location nearby, he’ll give you a discount if he ends up buying them? Like an employee discount or something. Is that ethical? You should check the Association’s employee handbook for conflicts of interest.

He squints, as if preparing to evaluate your reaction, and names your favorite place to play the claw machine.

“For real? You’re really going to buy them?”

“I still have to review the contract that was proposed during today’s discussions with my legal counsel, but if negotiations are successful, then yes,” he says, casually examining his nails.

Your excitement is hard to contain, but you suddenly have a troubling thought. “You’re not going to change anything, right? Like, that place is perfect as it is, and the employees are all really friendly and helpful and clearly work hard to keep it really nice,” you rush out, worried that he’s planning to reduce the staff  or try to jack up the prices for a larger profit margin.

He turns to look at you again, and doesn’t answer for long enough that you’re really starting to worry. But then he says softly, “No, I’m not going to change a thing.”

“Oh? So they’re doing well? It’s a solid financial investment?” You’re so relieved, safe in the knowledge that your plushies will continue to be accessible, insofar as claw machines by design allow them to be.

Sylus laughs softly. “Yes, the financials all look good. Considering your interest in the nature of binding agreements, would you like to look over the purchase agreement with me? I have it with me.”

“I’d actually really like to, but I’m starting to get really tired,” you yawn, the relief you were just feeling—the relief of knowing that Sylus wasn’t up to anything that would leave a blood trail today, relief that he didn’t come tonight to try to force you to resonate or finally kill you for refusing to do so, and most importantly, relief that he wasn’t going to acquire and ruin one of the little pleasures in your life—all of it is now drowned out by a heavy feeling of pleasant drowsiness.

“Then I’ll read it to you, until you fall asleep.”

“Huh? You want to stay?”

“Yes,” he says, hauling himself to his feet and offering you his hand. You take it in confusion, and he lifts you to your feet as well. He sets the now empty mug on your coffee table, and then places his hands on your shoulders, gently guiding you from behind to your bedroom.

“Why?” you ask, not even thinking to object.

“Headache, remember?” He pushes you gently by your shoulders so that you’re sitting on your bed.

“How can you review legalese when you’re suffering from a headache?” You sink into the softness of the mattress.

“Why don’t you let me worry about that?” he says, nudging you until you’ve scooted to the middle of the bed. “Don’t move. I’m going to get my tablet out of my briefcase.” He disappears through the doorway, and you’re left sitting on your bed, surrounded by all of your plushies, and you have no idea what’s happening. You’re just too tired to argue with him. You really did miscalculate by spending all of your energy trying to get rid of him when he first arrived.

But just because you’re bone-tired, doesn’t mean you’re going to let him boss you around. You get off the bed and pad into the kitchen, passing him as he snaps his briefcase shut, tablet in hand.

“I distinctly recall telling you not to move,” he gripes, pushing up an elegant set of gold framed glasses perched on the uneven bridge of his nose with a middle finger. Huh, you didn’t know he needed glasses to read. He looks almost … cute wearing them, a little less feral. Like a leopard wearing a monocle.

Suppressing the thought of Sylus and cute in the same sentence, you ignore him, grabbing a glass from the cupboard and filling it with water. Then you rummage through your most chaotic kitchen drawer for a few moments, before triumphantly pulling out what you were looking for.

You pad back over to where he’s still watching you, and offer him the glass and the half-used blister pack of over-the-counter painkillers you fished out of your chaos drawer. “Here.”

He looks down at your hands, offering him what you hope is some relief from his headache. His face is impassive, and you’re worried he assumes you’re trying to poison him again. But then he tucks the tablet under one arm, and reaches out with both hands to grasp the glass and the pill pack—except he doesn’t take them from your hands. He envelops yours with his, and pulls you gently closer to him. He somehow manages to pop two tablets out of the pack with his thumb, and they drop into your curved palm. Still holding your hand, he leans down to sweep them from your skin with his tongue. In a complete daze, you watch him lift the glass that you’re still holding to his lips, and he takes a long pull of water, washing the pills down, all the while holding your gaze with his. When he’s done, he slowly lowers your hands again.

“Thank you,” he murmurs “For the benevolence of your heart.” He says it gravely, as if you’ve just saved his life instead of giving him some headache medicine.

“You’re welcome,” you whisper, feeling like you’ve been struck by a truck after… whatever that was, feeling the warmth of his tongue in the palm of your hand like he was still licking it. Sylus then turns and heads back to your bedroom.

You set the glass and the now-empty pill pack on the kitchen island, thinking you’ll clean up tomorrow if you manage to sleep tonight, and follow him.

In the bedroom, Sylus sits, leaning back against your headboard, having needed to gently scoop some plushies out of the way to make room. He stretches his legs out in front of him with a sigh. He looks so soft, wrapped in the white hoodie, silver hair rumpled, surrounded by pillows and cute little plushies.

It’s getting increasingly difficult to remember that the man currently sinking into your duvet and wiggling his sock-covered toes in contentment is the same man who straight up exploded the man who dared kidnap you, and then proceeded to kidnap you himself after choking you to the point of passing out. You try to hold both of these truths about him in your mind at the same time, but the image of Sylus dancing you gently through a press of bodies, of the way he caresses your fingers at every opportunity, the soft slide of his tongue along your palm—these images are conquering every other version of him that you know to be true in your mind. You wonder briefly if this is part of some larger scheme of his, and what his endgame could possibly be. But right now, you’re too fucking tired to care.

“What is even happening,” you ask. You’re exhausted, but you still have enough mental reserves to question how you got here, in this situation, with this man migrating from vanquishing your couch to a large part of your bed. “Is the coffee table, or kitchen table insufficient for your needs? Why are you going to review the paperwork here, on my bed?”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice how quickly you fell asleep on my back on the motorcycle the other night, sweetheart. I’m just reading you a bedtime story featuring limitations of liability and allocation of risk so that you can finally get some sleep again.” He pats his thigh. “Here.”

You just stare at him. “Don’t make me repeat myself,” he warns, tapping his thigh again with one long finger. Just for that, you glare mutinously at him and fold your arms over your chest.

He sighs again, this time in exasperation, and leans over, firmly lifting you and setting you down so that your head is pillowed against his meaty thigh. He begins to run his fingertips gently up and down the middle of your back. He returns his attention to his tablet. “Now listen carefully,” he commands, before flicking the screen with his thumb and beginning to read in his softly in his deep, rich voice.

But of course you don't. You fall asleep as the skyscrapers light up like a dragon's hoard of jewels in the night sky outside your window, to the sounds of Sylus’s quiet recitation of indeed, a terribly boring contract, and the whisper of his fingers along your skin.

When you wake up, there is another black feather on your pillow, and you are alone. You yawn, once again feeling unbelievably rested despite the chaos Sylus always brings to your door and into your life. You stretch leisurely, spreading your arms wide and turning your head on the pillow, when something catches in your earlobe. You reach up and run your fingers along a stud earring that was not there when you fell asleep. You feel your other earlobe, but it's empty. You grab your phone from the nightstand, knocking over a semiautomatic hand pistol with scarlet flames engraved along the grip that you also don't remember owning onto the floor. You stare at it briefly, ready to commit murder if you check it and find that the safety isn't on. But first things first: you put the phone camera in selfie mode and lift it to your face, but quickly lower it again after confirming that it is indeed a ruby stud in your ear, sparkling cheekily in the morning sunlight.

Later, you're relieved to find that Sylus did actually leave the safety on on your new little ... toy, and you'll find that the mugs have been washed and set neatly away, the empty pack of painkillers placed in the recycling bin. You also see that various takeout containers and other debris that had piled up on a lot of surfaces in your place are also gone, and the countertops are clean, the coffee and kitchen table gleam in the early morning sunlight. You don't notice that the white hoodie is nowhere to be found, until you meet up with Xavier later in the day. He's wearing one that looks exactly like it.

"Thanks for returning the hoodie," he yawns. "But you really didn't have to."

You pause, feeling a thread of panic start to wind its way through your stomach. You decide to just... go with it. "Oh? You found it okay?"

"Yeah, but why did you just leave it hanging from my door handle? You could have rung and come in. I had a new limited edition bag of those cookies you were looking at in the corner store last week. I would have shared some with you... but now I've eaten them all," he admits sheepishly, big blue eyes shimmering with guilt.

You try to think fast. Did Sylus give back the hoodie without washing it? What the fuck was he thinking? He could have been seen! Does this flat have surveillance footage? Does Xavier suspect anything? You realize that you still haven't answered Xavier's question as your panic spirals. "Oh, you know, didn't want to wake you up," you flap your hands, as if you can flap this entire situation right out of your messy life.

"Well, I don't know what you did to it, but it feels brand new. As if it's never even been washed. And you somehow got out the bbq sauce stain that no matter how much I sprayed it with that stain remover stuff would never come out. So you're going to have to teach me some of that laundry magic," he says contentedly, snuggling further into the entirely new hoodie that you now realize Sylus must have somehow, over the course of the night, had hand-delivered to Xavier's place. "Uh huh," you say absently, pulling out your phone to furiously text Mr. Asshat when you see that he has also changed his name in your contact list.

You: What the hell did you do with Xavier's hoodie?"

My Sy: It doesnt matter who it belonged to before me. All that matters is that its mine now.

You: It doesn't even fit you properly! You're too big for it!

My Sy: Nothing a little size training cant fix.

Your jaw drops. He cannot be implying what you think he's implying. This is your filthy mind at work. You decide that you will simply pretend this conversation never happened. Absolutely nothing good can come from trying to figure out what the fuck is going through Sylus's head at any given moment.

You: And 'My Sy?' Really?

My Sy: Its not punny, but it rhymes. And its accurate. Gotta put the phone down for a bit, kitten. Business requires my attention. Ill be seeing you soon.

You stare at his last message for long enough that Xavier asks if you're okay. You're not. You're not okay. You couldn't even bring yourself to ask him about the other earring, or the gun. You just slowly slip your phone back into your cargo pants pocket and try very hard to stop thinking, for the rest of the day.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

Help- bakugo w a gf who’s always cold

It’s the middle of winter and they’re chilling at the dorms, he’s making her tea and she jus sneaks up behind him and shoves her hands up his shirt and he screams like a girl

🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

tell me why . . your hands are cold !

katsuki is way better than the heater

a/n.: LMFAOOO this is so cute..and way overdue omg, im so sorry this took so long anon ! i hope you're still hanging around and hope you enjoy ! also as someone who's hands are also legit always freezing (ppl w reynauds say hey) this is for me lol

cw.: no pronouns mentioned here im pretty sure !, fluff n stuff :3 katsuki threatens our life like once or twice but psshhh it doesnt mattuuur..lemme know if i missed sum else !

katsuki lets out a high pitched gasp before his next words come out "HOLY FUCK."

he slams his hands onto the counter in surprise, the spoon he'd used to pour some honey in your mug clatters and drop on the counter. his eyes drift down from your hands under his shirt, to looking back at you with a glare that could terrify any villain. yet you send him a mischievous little smile over his shoulder.

he grips your hands and quickly yanks them off his skin "what. the fuck. are doing." his eye twitched as he growled out his words calmly, but calm in a scary way that definitely does not match with your boyfriend's attitude.

"i was just trying to warm up, it's so cold in here." you whine playfully, katsuki squints at you the more you speak. the grip on your hands tighten as you try to press your cold hands to his skin again.

"so just- turn the fuckin' heater up." he grunts.

"but i want you, suki. you're way warmer." you tease using your sweetest voice. katsuki's nose turns up.

"stop bothering me. m'not gonna get anything done and then you'll blame me when you freeze to death. goin' out of my way to do somethin' nice for you, and this is how you thank me." he chastised, feeling your hands creeping around he quickly shoo's them away with a "cut it out. " ignoring your complaints.

"but, katsukiii. your squeal was so cute."

"fuck off and die. i didn't squeal." he scoffs.

"but you did."

"but i didn't." he pulls your arms closer, spinning around so you can see his pissed of expression, the grip on your hand tightens. "quit clinging to me."

you pout, dropping your chin against his chest to look up at him. his eyebrows furrow "but i like being close to you like this, you're so warm.. it's comfy."

"you and this weird shit you keep saying.." he mutters to himself, but you can see the slight blush on his face. "i'm busy. making tea. for you." he reiterates.

your eyebrows furrow "too busy to hang out with me ?"

"way too busy." he smirks. of course, he only gets happy when he's the one messing with you.

"jerk." you huff. katsuki snorts, pulling your arms harder he bring his hands over yours. he almost jumps at the contact "shit--you're freezing."

"i told you it's cold in here !"

he brings your hands up to his face as if to inspect them "nah, think this is just a you problem." he insists. you laugh, then tilt your head "so, you gonna help me out or not ?" you blink sweetly, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. he groans, swiftly turning back around and you think he's ignoring you now, but he's still got your hands in his grip. then he brings them to his skin, you hum at the feeling while he immediately hisses. "fuck.." you hear him say through his teeth.

"this is the best." you sigh, pressing your cheek to his back. your boyfriend lets out an exasperated sigh. "glad you're enjoyin' it." he bites sarcastically, you giggle against his shirt.

a kiss to his back "thank you, suki. you're the best." katsuki doesn't respond, and you're fine with that. listening to his soft breaths and the sound of the water boiling in the kettle. you hear him turn it off, slowly pouring the hot water in. you feel your hands warm up, and his shoulders untense at the feeling. he really is better than a heater.

"tell me somethin' i don't know, the shit i do for your ass.." he grumbles. you hear the swirling sound of the spoon against the ceramic of the mug, it clings and rings slightly in your ears. katsuki grabs it and turns around to hand it to you, scowl still very present on his features.

"here. warm up." he orders. the moment you make contact your entire body feels warmer. you sigh warmly, sitting down on one of the chairs in the kitchen. he leans against the counter, watching you blow away the steam before taking tiny sips of your drink.

"thank you, katsu.." you exhale in relief. "yeah, yeah.." he mutters, following suit and sitting down in his chair. no more words are exchanged as you quietly sip on your tea. “feel better ?” katsuki adds after a moment, you nod happily, gulping down your drink. he reaches for your hand when you place your mug down, squeezing to check for himself. “good. yer fuckin' hands were colder than icy hot's and that’s part of his whole damn quirk.”

"and what're you holding todoroki's hand for, you're not cheating on me with him are you ? ” you snort, he cranes his neck to look at you incredulously "i'll actually fucking kill you." you throw your head back and laugh. you miss your boyfriend's lips slowly twitching into a smile. he squeezes your hand in joking reprimand.

"i still prefer you, though. waaay better than the heater." you add cheekily, running your thumb over his skin, you like how the small action makes goosebumps rise against his skin.

"yeah ?" you nod intensely and your boyfriend scoffs. "..dumbass." he mutters, turning away and placing his hand over his mouth. " hey !" you exclaim, katsuki lets out a snort behind his hand. but he squeezes your hand even tighter, and you feel even warmer.

taglist :

@napbatata @andysdrafts @queenpiranhadon @jastoo46 @cecelia77

@katszumi @m-inluv @monchurie @the-hangry-otter @starlostlaiba

@moonshuul @erenstitanweave @katsus-mistress @dondeh-zedonutqueen @liluvtojineteyam

@aspiringwriter1111 @sugurusmoon @redvelvetstan1

@niktwazny303 @nemisimp @kit-katsukii @alphasage @milktea-academia

[mascdestr0yer]

You're not invited

Paige x fem!reader

Warnings: none, it's just fluff and a lil bit of angst if you count temper tantrums.

Synopsis: y'all, just read it please

When you got pregnant with your second, maybe last, child you and Paige were very excited, especially your three year old, Leilani. She was over the moon, asking when she could meet her baby brother, constantly telling her she has to wait for more months, or a few more weeks.

When Mateo was born Lani wanted to be near him all the time, wanting to hold him, feed him. She was happy to become a big sister, you and Paige, mainly you were happy with how gentle she was with him. Despite how some of her dolls look.

Mateo's first birthday was nearing and it needed to have a lot of planning, because a lot of people have food allergies all of a sudden. You were so close to saying fuck it, just don't eat what you're allergic too.

"you wanna say hi, he just woke up," You mumbled softly to your daughter, with Mateo in your arms. Paige was sitting next to you, watching Moana, Lani picked it out.

"no ! I don't like him, he's annoying !" Leilani stormed off upstairs, probably to her bedroom.

"Paige-"

"I got it," she huffed, preparing herself. Taking her time as she walked upstairs, usually you would be the one to go talk with your daughter about her actions. As Paige tends to become a meanie, is what Lani calls her, when she talks with her. It's not like she wants to become the big bad wolf, her voice just has some bass to it sometimes.

Paige gently knocked on the girls door.

"I'm coming in kay?" She walked in seeing her crying on her bed.

"you wanna talk about it?" Her tone was gentle. Leilani didn't answer, wiping the snot off her nose with her sleeve.

"You wanna tell me why you said that to your brother?" She ran her hands through the toddler's hair. The girl began to cry even harder, "what's wrong princess?" She cooed.

"you and mommy are mad at me," she cried into Paige's chest, Paige pulled her into her lap.

"no, we were just confused," Paige said, rubbing circles on the girl's back.

"confwused?" She slurred.

"okay.." the smaller girl whimpered.

"yeah, so how about you apologize to Mommy and your brother and we... we can have a tea party," Paige muttered the last part, but it was loud enough for your daughter to hear it.

The two of them walked downstairs, Paige put the girl down in front of you.

"m'sorry mommy for telling at Mateo.." she said nervously. Both Paige and Leilani stand the same, nervous. You mumbled a small 'c'mere' you pulled her into your lap.

"thank you for apologizing, you're being mommy's big girl." You cooed, fixing the little girl's hair she quickly got off your lap and jumped into Paige's arms.

"c'mon mama you promised," Leilani whiled, tugging on Paige's shirt.

"okay, okay," Paige chuckled as they began walking upstairs. You looked up at Mateo who's sitting in the high chair cut up grapes and sighed.

"where are you guys going?"

"Tea party !" Leilani squealed.

"-and you're not invited !" Paige stuck her tongue out as the walked away.

"woww,"

About ten minutes you walked upstairs with you son in your arms. You took a peek inside Leilani's room and saw Paige in a tutu sitting in a princess chair that's way too small for her tall ass.

"more tea madam?" Paige asked her daughter, holding the toy kettle.

"why thank you," Lani responded, you've been watching too much Bridgerton around her.

[ellecdc]

the pilot - Pretty Woman

slow burn poly!wolfstar Pretty Woman (1990) au: established wolfstar, escort!reader, side jegulily, eventual dorlene, political heist-type situation, depictions and descriptions of sex-work

I // II

cw: discussion of experienced transphobia, discussion of someone else's homophobia, the Black Family, writers poor understanding of UK politics, mature themes and discussion of full service sex work [3k words]

link to series masterlist

“Absolutely bloody fucking not, are you out of your mind?” 

“Cas, please.” You begged as you followed your roommate out of her room and into the kitchen.

“You have plenty of bags, why do you need to borrow mine?” She grumbled as she flicked on the kettle. 

“The room is booked at the Ritz, Cas; I cannot walk in with my fraying duffle.” 

Her movements paused as she turned to look at you incredulously. “The Ritz? Fucking hells, babe, where’d you find this guy?”

You shrugged your shoulders helplessly. “He found me.”

“Blimey…if he has enough money to throw around for a casual stay at a hotel like that and-”

“Me.” You finished for her. “I know…I- I’d like it to go well, in case…”

“In case he decides to book again.” 

You nodded solemnly at Dorcas who continued staring at you, only looking away when her water came to a boil. 

“Fine. Fine…okay, you can borrow my Prada bag.”

You squealed as you hugged your friend from behind as she prepared her tea, ignoring her grumbling on account of the pleased smile she had on her face.

“Thank you, Cas. Really…this….this could be good for us, yeah?”

Her face softened as she turned to look at you as you backed towards her bedroom to retrieve her bag; guilt, grief and hope intermingling in her eyes as she nodded at you. 

*ೃ༄.ೃ࿐

Your cheap heels clicked across along the marble floor which reflected the lights like diamonds under the many crystal chandeliers hanging on the high ceilings. You were wearing your most expensive jacket, but you still felt horribly out of place; you weren’t exactly wearing a whole lot underneath it (everything was going to be coming off shortly anyway…), and you were delusional enough to feel like everyone in the lobby was somehow onto you.

This late into the evening, most guests were dressed to the nines as they made their way to casinos and orchestras; cocktail dresses and more than a few tuxedos painting your vision in every direction you looked. You couldn’t get to the elevator quickly enough, though you were forced to spend the ride up staring at your reflection ad infinitum on account of the parallel mirrors in every direction.

Fifth floor, room 522. 

The room itself had its own miniature chandelier hanging above the room number illuminating it in the hall. You looked back at the text on your phone to confirm you were at the right place.

Great! Looking forward to seeing you: room 522 on the 5th floor

You’d had high paying clients before – men who could afford to spend their money on sex – but not like this, never like this.

You suddenly felt incredibly nervous and hoped you could make a good impression; if he was pleasant, you’d be more than happy to have him as a repeat client.

You’ve been through worse.

You took one last look through your borrowed bag to make sure you had your essentials, as well as your ID and taser in case of emergencies, before taking a deep breath and knocking gently; cautious of the hall of other rooms who may be winding down for the evening and not wanting to draw attention to what was very clearly an escort.

Please let this go well.

“Okay, so, explain to me again why you couldn’t just hire an actress or some theatre student?” James asked as he rubbed painfully at his temples.

Sirius groaned and threw his head back. “Because James; an actress will have a portfolio – a history - that my family can dig into. They’ll also have dreams of pursuing other acting jobs after this one. I need someone nondescript, unheard of, and not going anywhere so that my mother and her cronies can’t poke holes into our story.”

“Same reason he can’t use a friend.” Regulus added from his place on a tufted chair in the luxurious hotel room currently being paid for by his and Sirius’ family.

“Right. Mother and everyone will know if I’m using a friend, or an acquaintance and it will point back to this larger scheme.” Sirius agreed readily.

“But wouldn’t it make more sense if you had met your new fiancé through a friend?” Remus questioned.

“Sure. If my friends weren’t the two of you, Lily, and Marlene.” Sirius added simply.

“I just don’t understand how we jumped straight to prostitution.” James muttered.

“Look,” Sirius levelled, “I’ve thought about this long and hard. I’ve also discussed this with Andromeda and our Uncle Alphard, and they both agree this is the best way to go. Our family won’t have any reason to have met our prostitute unless they themselves have hired a prostitute, and this girl is supposed to be from the opposite end of town, so I doubt there’d have been any overlap anyways. She also won’t have much of a background for them to dig into – and she’d be hard to get to if they tried.”

“Why would she be hard to get to?”

Remus grimaced and answered James for him. “Prostitutes often have pimps, James. Men that...organise the contact for the girls. Sirius would have had to go through one to find this girl.”

“I thought that was a myth?” Regulus interjected, but Remus shook his head.

“It’s estimated that approximately 65-85% of prostitution is pimp-dominated.”

“So, some guy sold her to you?” James asked incredulously.

“Sort of...I guess.” Sirius admitted.

James groaned and looked at the ceiling “I hate this.”

“This is the beginning of the end, James. We’re taking the Black’s down once and for all; they won’t be able to hurt any of us ever again.” Sirius lamented, his eyes moving from James towards his younger brother at the end of the sentence.

Regulus nodded at his brother before there was a gentle knock on the door.

“Well boys, show time.” James said as he stood from his seat and moved to answer the door.

Sirius wrung his hands nervously as he heard James greet you at the door, sharing nervous looks with Remus and Regulus who both sat up straighter.

“-get you anything? There’s a full bar here, you can help yourself to whatever you want.” James was saying, though Sirius could almost hear your grin and polite shake of your head.

“I’m alright thanks, I’m not-”

But the second you stepped into the suite's living room you fell silent and looked at the three boys in horror; Sirius realised what he’d done wrong too little too late.

Both Remus and Regulus stood to greet you, and you pulled your bag into your chest and stepped back so quickly that the picture frame on the wall you slammed into shook. 

“It’s okay, we-”

“What is this?” You whispered overtop of Sirius, eyes darting nervously between the four men now all standing with their hands raised in placation, though Sirius felt as though it likely had the opposite effect. 

“Fuck this looks bad, doesn’t it?” James muttered nervously.

“Shut up, James.” 

“What is this?” You repeated a little louder.

“Y/N, right? My name is Sirius, love. I’m the one you spoke with on the phone.” Sirius offered as calmly as he could muster. “I’m sorry we surprised you, but I promise you’re okay, this isn’t what it looks like.”

“We just want to talk.” Remus added, and you let out a hysterical laugh.

“You hired an escort to chat?” You deadpanned, and Sirius’ noticed your eyes turning glassy in your panic.

“Okay, okay. Hang on, just…” Sirius started, moving in slow motion as he stepped towards the side table his wallet was sitting on whilst holding your eye contact the entire time. “Look, this is the price we agreed upon, right?” He asked, only breaking your eye contact to count the bills out in his hands as he inched closer to you. “You can take this right now and leave if you want, but-” he continued, fanning out the rest of the cash he’d withdrawn, “It’s tripled if you stay and just hear us out.”

You looked at him in pure discombobulation as he placed the agreed upon sum in your hand and closed your grip around it for you before backing away slowly. 

“Sit, please; we can order room service, you can help yourself to anything from the bar. Just…hear us out.” Remus offered as he gestured towards one of the wingback chairs. 

You swallowed thickly and let your gaze drift over the four men again; Remus who was looking at you pleadingly, Regulus who looked very pained on your behalf, James who looked very embarrassed by this whole misunderstanding, and Sirius who was looking at you like you were his only hope. 

“This…it’s not-?”

“No. No, there’s…no. No sex, nothing funny, just…a sales pitch.” He offered awkwardly. 

You scanned the room again, and though your knuckles were no longer white, you were still hugging your bag tight against your body.

“Can I take your jacket?” James offered, taking a step towards him. You simply looked at him before your gaze fell to the rather informal clothes everyone else was wearing.

“Do you have something more comfortable to wear in your bag?” Remus offered, obviously reading your worry for what it was as you nodded at him. 

“The washroom is right there, if you wanted to change? Or…if you wanted to call a cab.” Sirius offered. You nodded at him before disappearing through the door and locking it behind you. 

“Fucking smooth, Sirius.” Regulus muttered as he sat back down with a dramatic sigh. 

“Well I don’t fucking know, Reg! I’ve not exactly done this before, either.”

“That could have been bad.”

“Well we don’t know if she’s going to agree or not so it still could be bad.” Remus countered.

“I don’t think I can stomach having to hire another one.” Sirius muttered as they heard the door to the bathroom click. 

You exited, still looking nervous but you were no longer wearing your jacket which Sirius took as a good sign.

You were wearing a pair of well fitting jeans and a black turtleneck with a pair of black heeled boots - classic and nondescript. You looked put together enough, but like you wouldn’t draw attention to yourself. Though, Sirius figured a girl as pretty as you was likely to garner a few stares regardless of what you were wearing. 

That was probably good for business, which reminded Sirius why you were here. 

“Are you hungry? Do you want to order something to eat? Anything to drink?”

“No, thank you.” You replied as you accepted the chair Remus was gesturing for you to sit in. You allowed James to take your jacket, but kept your bag in your lap. 

“Water?” Regulus asked, and you finally managed to make eye contact with one of them.

“I have a bottle of water, thank you.” 

That seemed…fair, Sirius supposed. He guessed you were used to spending time in the company of rather predatory men.

“Okay, so, I’m really sorry about the confusion, but the reason I hired you is that I was hoping for your help.” Sirius said as he hooked up his laptop to the TV and started his slideshow. 

“You did not actually make a presentation.” James snorted, causing Sirius to look at him nonplussed.

“Of course I didn’t.” He responded simply, blushing only when he turned to notice you were looking at him with one raised eyebrow. “Regulus made it.”

“Someone had to.”

“This really is a sales pitch?” You asked almost disbelievingly; the ghost of a smirk on your lips. 

“Okay, well, if everyone would shut up, I’d get on with it.” Sirius chided with a smile, glad that you were relaxing enough to at least chuckle lightly at his expense. 

And Sirius told you.

He told you that his name was Sirius Black, that he came from the rather ignoble Black dynasty that had their claws (and more importantly, their heavily lined pockets) deeply entrenched in the rightwing government; currently backing the particularly problematic Tom Riddle who was running for Prime Minister. He explained that he’d run away from home at only 16 to live with James and his family due to the abuse and hostility his parents held, and how he could not support what they stood for. However, when his younger brother came out as trans to his parents - his parents who were now relying on their only remaining child to continue their legacy and help paint a picture of themselves as the proper, wholesome political family they pretended to be - they were desperate to play damage control. 

They promised to leave Regulus alone - they’d have nothing to do with him, but they wouldn’t publicly shame him - if Sirius played nice. Nice, meaning living a respectable, traditional lifestyle. This meant that Sirius and Remus had been dating behind closed doors for almost eight years now whilst Remus worked as Sirius’ personal assistant, and Sirius pretended he wasn’t in contact with his younger sibling should the press ask. 

His parents folded at Sirius’ friendship with James and Marlene, simply because no one would be able to explain away Sirius and James’ nearly lifelong friendship (he’d lived with his family for Christ’s sake), and even the Black’s understood the power in having ties with other wealthy and powerful families like the Potter’s and MacKinnon’s, even if their politics didn’t align with their own. 

“How does this all involve me?” You asked then, surprising Sirius out of his well rehearsed schpiel to find your eyes trained on him. 

“Right, so…my parents are tired of my bachelor lifestyle.”

“It doesn’t paint a very traditional picture to have the heir to a powerful family pushing 30 and still living in a bachelor pad with his unmarried mate and employee.” Remus offered dryly. 

“They want you to find a girlfriend.” You deduced.

“They want me to find a wife.” Sirius corrected. 

“And that’s…me?” You asked around a chuckle, your smile falling when you realised no one was laughing with you. “Oh my god…”

“I’ve told them I’ve been seeing someone for quite some time now, but didn’t want to bring them into this world until I was sure about them - until I was sure they weren’t ‘just after the family money’.” Sirius explained solemnly. “They want me to make it official, and they want me to start bringing you around.” 

“Around…”

“Events; galas, fundraisers, press opportunities. The likes.” Regulus explained flippantly. 

“Right…” You offered in monotone. “And you want to show up to galas, fundraisers, and press opportunities with a hooker?” 

James turned to give Sirius a look that seemed to read ‘see?’, but Remus responded first.

“Well…we were sort of hoping he could show up with you.” Remus corrected gently. You seemed surprised and more than a tad confused at Remus’ apparent defence of you. 

“They’re terrible people, Y/N.” Sirius blurted. “They are terrible and they stand for terrible things. They put all of their money into anti LGBTQIA+ propaganda and organisations, they actively work towards harming a large portion of UK citizens, they want to reverse any progress the country has made in reproductive healthcare and women’s rights, they’re trying to ban fucking children’s books, I-”

“Then why play along? Why play nice, as you said? Marrying an escort seems like a very dramatic way to keep your brother out of the limelight.” You argued.

“Clever girl.” Regulus murmured as he leaned further back into his chair. 

“Family inheritance.” Sirius offered plainly. “I have access to use family money, but do not have access to direct family money. Not until I fulfil the requirements of my inheritance.”

“The requirements being an approved heterosexual wedding.” James filled in. 

“Regulus is no longer entitled to his sum of the inheritance after my parents disowned him.” Sirius continued. “But that means that, should I be successful, I would inherit both of our portions.”

“Which would make Sirius the primary shareholder in the Black estates.” Regulus continued. 

“Meaning you’d have final say over allocation of funds…” You finished for him. 

“You are clever.” Remus agreed with Regulus’ earlier sentiments. You turned bashful and looked down at your lap to avoid having to look at any of them, Sirius found himself smiling at the top of your head. 

“And I just…play along?” You asked then.

“You’ll be paid - handsomely - any time you’re with any of us. And once I have access to the estate, you’ll be given a portion of it.”

“It’s no small sum, either.” Regulus assured you. 

“I will make sure it is well worth your time, Y/N.” Sirius promised. 

He let that sit in the air as he moved towards the bar and poured himself a drink before picking up his wallet. “And here.” He added as he handed you the other portion of the cash he’d taken out for you.

“What?”

“I promised you triple if you heard us out; you’ve heard us out.” He responded simply as he took a seat beside Remus. 

You fanned out the bills in front of you like you couldn’t believe your eyes; you weren’t counting them, necessarily, but proving to yourself it was real. 

“They’re terrible?” You asked then, but when Sirius looked up, he could see you were asking Regulus. 

“Awful.” Regulus murmured, eyes staring unseeingly at the coffee table in front of him as James placed a comforting hand on his knee. “Honestly, I’m…scared; not necessarily for myself, I mean, I know I’m safe and have people in my corner, but…there are so many people out there like me who don’t and…”

You nodded in understanding as Regulus trailed off. 

“Okay.” You whispered as you folded up the money as best you could and put it in your bag before standing.

“Okay?” Sirius asked as he stood, too; quickly followed by Remus, James, and Regulus.

“Okay.” You repeated, nodding once to yourself before meeting Sirius’ gaze. “I’ll do it, I’ll…I’ll help.” 

Sirius felt a smile take over his face as he looked at you - his dame in shining armour for all intents and purposes - as you accepted your jacket from James. 

“Tell me what you need me to do, and I’ll do it; I’ll help.”

[therealhousewifeofharrystyles]

Harry’s Home

Part III.

Read Part 1 Here!

Read Part 2 Here!

Pairing/AU: Roommate!Harry // Roommate!Y/N

Word Count: ~ 4k words

⚠️ Content Warnings: Adult Language, Pining, Sexual Desire, References to Body Weight (“Chubby” Reader), Fantasies of Rough Sex, Breeding Fantasies, Exhibitionism, Explicit Depictions of Masturbation(M&F), Dirty Talk, ~Slow Burn~

So, yeah. Harry and I have successfully become somewhat close. We’ve put up with each other’s shit for long enough and eventually bonded—or whatever the hell you call it when a pair of sex-starved adults live in close quarters and they decide to play nice so the walls don’t come down on them.

Even though it’s the time of year when I can see my breath and I have to wear socks to protect my chilly toes when I’m lounging around the house, when I’m around Harry…I might as well be a tea kettle on the verge of squealing in steaming agony. I guess you could say I’ve been in heat.

I’m catching myself spacing all the time, hypnotized by his comfortable routine. He grasps my attention like it’s second-nature to him, and I have no other choice but to relent—to surrender. How fucking pathetic is that? Like, get a grip, woman. 

But seriously, I can’t take it anymore. I turn powerless and my body betrays me, simply from the man meeting my eyes with his from across the room. For someone to hold this much control over another human being by just existing…not only is it completely unfair, but it feels otherworldly. It’s as though a connection has been birthed out of the rawest, most sinful form of lust, with its sole purpose to fuse a pair of unwed and horny humans. Thus latching itself onto the two of us, melding an incubus with a siren.

I guess it could just be some crazy-intense sexual tension, too. There’s no fun in that explanation, but whatever. The point is that I can’t fucking take it anymore.  Me being so mesmerized by him performing the most mundane of tasks—unscrewing a new jar of jam, rubbing the sleep out of his face as he stumbles out of his bedroom, sneaking little peeks at me from across the room and smirking to himself after he looks away. God. That smirk keeps me up at night…my hands groping myself and massaging my clit to lull myself to dreamland.

Right…so about that…

For the past few months, Harry’s been able to hear me fucking myself through the thin wall that separates our two bedrooms. The divider does absolutely nothing to silence me and my explicit acts of self-pleasure. These walls couldn’t muffle a mouse, let alone an ambitiously horny, and impressively vocal young woman who’s desperate to get her rocks off…hard. 

And I’m certain he can hear everything—every gasp, every whine, every slick plunge of my fingers—or a toy—as they’re used in a merciless attack on my own body in order to chase an unattainable high…It's loud. It’s filthy. 

It’s pornographic.

And yet Harry indulges in my songs. I know he does. The only way I’m able to get myself off is to picture him on the other side…to close my eyes and astral-project my way into his room and assume the role of the voyeur…as the exhibitionist. I’m a walking oxymoron.

I imagine my waves of ecstasy seeping through the walls to awaken his neglected cock in his tight briefs.

I think to myself, 

…I bet he’s wondering whether or not I'm messing with him...if I know he’s listening to me…and if, perhaps, I want him to listen…

If only I were just playing a sick game of tease…Such a possibility would be utterly humiliating for Harry. He loathes feeling like his control is in the hands of another. Said power landing in my hands? Oh…No, no, no. Lest we forget the towel incident? Don’t let the sensitive late-night talks, the apology hugs, or the sleepy cuddles fool you; a switch, Harry is not. Not that he’s told me or anything, but it’s a feeling. When he drags his eyes down to slowly assess me…there isn’t a doubt in my mind that he’s in charge.

He has a limited threshold for teasing and babying, which is precisely why he shooed his own mother out the door after a mere 5 minutes of her jests. Harry spent his entire life as the baby. I sense he’s needed a release for quite some time…and it probably doesn’t help matters that my playful antics are sure-fire triggers for his dark dominance to take over. I think he’s struggled to find the right mate to unleash that part of himself with. At least completely, that is. And I hope I’ve been pressing just the right buttons to experience it all for myself. 

But yes, I’ve been fucking myself with lotsa gusto knowing he’s in close earshot of the action. Hopefully, he’s come to successfully make sense of some of my muffled ramblings beyond his wall as, “Yes, Daddy!” as well as the occasional gasp or moan of “Harry.” What? I like it…

Although I’d love to exacerbate the narrative that this has all just been a cruel game started by yours truly—a game that I’m winning, to be clear—I'm actually not messing with him. This had begun purely by accident, and now I'm just continuing to provide some adult entertainment for my, uh...housemate and…good friend. 

Before you scold me for being a perv, let me just finish explaining the situation. Because if Harry had a problem with something I did, he’d tell me. And he never complained about this. Never. 

Quite the opposite, actually.

The first time I did my private deeds with Harry eavesdropping in the next room, I'd initially felt horribly embarrassed. I hadn't realized how shameless I was, or how loud and desperate the noises were as they came out of me. Once I finally caught myself, it was like space and time had spun to a stop, and I was painfully aware of my raw indecency.

I wasn’t watching porn, reading erotica, or listening to naughty audio recordings. Nope. Only my lustful thoughts fueled the eagerness in my fingers as they played with my pussy. I’d also been blatantly inconsiderate of Harry and his right to privacy whilst they did. I felt dirty. I wasn’t thinking clearly. Pfft, I was hardly thinking of anything. It reminded me of the time just before we moved into this house…when I lurked on his social media pages for the images of his slick, half-naked body which burned themselves into my memory, all just to use him for my own personal, sick, sexual gratification.  

And there I was again—now cohabiting a space with the very inspiration for my filth and frustration—lying comfortably atop a spacious, girly pink towel to protect my bed linens from succumbing to my wetness. My knees were spread apart and my dripping cunt was on full display for my closed door across the room. If anyone walked in, they'd unknowingly be entering what many theme parks tend to call a “splash zone.” 

Luckily, Harry was in the living room watching some melodramatic video essay on YouTube…Or at least that’s where I’d left him before ending up in the not-so-innocent position atop my mattress.

I hadn’t thought about the fact that the house wasn’t empty until I heard my own whiny sighs combined with unmistakable slippery pussy-rubbing echoing throughout the room. My cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of pink once I’d realized the extent of my elevated volume. There was no way Harry couldn’t have heard all that. And I had no idea how long I’d been up to it, or for how long at that high of a frequency.

The click of a door closing nearby interrupted my nervous internal monologue—Harry’s door. He was mere meters away from my partially-nude body, but my private quarters kept me safe from any judging eyes. The wall our bedrooms shared stood as the only barricade between our two bodies. For a while, I dismissed my initial self-awareness and I slowly, and carefully, swirled my drenched fingertips over my clit. More of my liquid arousal coated my petite hand. For some reason, the idea of Harry walking in on me like that had me feeling hot. Realistically, that would’ve meant immediate, devastating humiliation. Did that mean I was into that? I’d say yes judging by the way I was pulsing around nothing whilst staring at my door, picturing the man himself standing there smirking at me…tilting his head and patronizing me. 

…Aw, would you look at tha’…Does that feel good, Sweet Bunny? 

“Mmhmm.” I found myself nodding with a sigh, my eyes relaxed and veiled. My mind refused to backtrack, and instead doubled-down. I probably should have stopped myself right there, but fuck, could self-sabotage feel good.

My brain directed me towards thinking about how pretty and sweet I was on the outside. My body, soft, and my features, so delicate, but so grabbable. Every part of me had an ample amount of plushness to squeeze. To manhandle. My tiny wrists and my elegant neck, the perfect size for a pair of big hands to wrap around. I bit my rosy lip on a whine, then brought my thumb up to rub and tease it before sucking on it. The sinful acts my mouth performed were a secret I kept with the few lucky men who’d experienced it for themselves. I wanted so badly to share that with Harry…I wanted to share all of myself with him. 

“Mmm…Harry.” I moaned aloud, releasing my wet thumb and sneaking it under my shirt, swiping the slick pad back and forth over my sensitive tit.

It was hard for me not to think about Harry whenever I touched myself. I thought about his fingers playing with my hair, him burying his face into my neck the times we cuddled…feeling his hard-on against my ass on the couch…the times when he’d hugged me…and catching his gaze drift down to my tits…I bet he’d thought I’d never notice, even after having done it multiple times in a single conversation. Hmm…was Harry Styles an ass man or a tit man? Or was he something else…? He certainly liked looking at my boobs…and I'm able to confirm that his body has a very positive reaction to pressing up against my butt…

Honestly, I didn’t even care what parts of the body Harry liked the most. All I cared about was how badly I wanted to feel him use mine. I wrapped my small hand around my throat and arched my back up off of the mattress, gasping as I mindlessly pushed two hooked fingers inside my tight opening, picturing a certain tall, curly-headed British man molesting me instead. The sound of my own moans enhanced my pleasure as I rode myself towards peak bliss. My modesty had become non-existent as my hands worked each sensitive spot between my legs and teased at my pebbled nipples. A part of me needed him to hear me that night. I was getting off on that taboo. But that’s all it was…my imagination. 

It was just a silly little fantasy. Harmless exhibitionism. I wasn’t actually being that loud…—but that’s when I suddenly heard more feedback beyond the wall. It’d been some time since I’d heard the door click shut. My personal distractions got in the way of keeping track of time. 

There was an urgent fumbling. A repetitive clinking. The sound resembled a bit of metal hitting other metal. But it was light. Small. Following that, I heard a rough yank and a soft plop as whatever the item was had dropped heavily onto the carpeted floor. An unmistakable hum of a zipper quickly came subsequent to the discarding of the first mystery item—but it was no longer a mystery to me as my sex-clouded mind pieced together what I was hearing. The hands nestled between my thighs slowed at the realization.

Well, Harry’s just changing into his pajamas for the night, right?

My audible x-rated activities bouncing off the walls for several minutes whilst my roommate innocently removed his pants next door…maybe I was overthinking this…I remembered calling out our "goodnight"'s to each other around 10 minutes before I slipped out of my panties and began to shamelessly pleasure myself. He was still in his business-y work clothes when I left him in the living room…and I knew I just heard his bedroom door click shut in the middle of my alone time. And at that point, Harry was right there. He was just trying to unwind, yet happened to be in the room adjacent to mine. It was probably too awkward for him to ask for me to quiet down. 

Poor guy…ugh. I was disgusted with myself. I felt I needed to end my “session” right there, and

I was mentally preparing a nice apology text to send him. There was no way in hell I'd bring this up in person to Harry the following day. Surely I’d be in tears before I could even form the right words. I didn’t even want to imagine the scenario of Harry, himself, mentioning it to my face. Every possible, horrible consequence of my selfishly lewd deeds played out in my mind. There I was, lying there with my knees bent up and spread wide open—my fingers frozen against where I'm most sensitive. The silence made the throbbing in my clit feel even more desperate. 

And then Harry flicked his white-noise machine on.

Oh, God…This was so embarrassing.

I wanted to sink into a black hole and never be seen, nor heard, ever again. The severity of the situation felt devastating to me. Was I truly so grotesque that the beautiful man I lived with had to tune me out with the highest setting of his old, rattly sleep machine?!

Hell, I was more than embarrassed, I was fucking humiliated. For real, this time. And it was all my fault.

I just wanted to disappear.

But just as I was readying myself to book a flight back home to move back in with my parents to spare myself from ever having to look Harry in the eye again…

I heard it. 

I heard him.

“…Mmmhh…”

Beyond the hum of the wimpy white noise, there was a raspy moan on the other side of the wall. I thought I was just imagining it, or that maybe it was Harry quietly retching in disgust, but then it happened again. 

No, yeah. It was definitely a moan.

I held my breath as I focused upon the sound of an abrupt curse followed by the distinctive sound of spitting. 

“...Ahhh, fuck—” 

*ptuh* 

The grunting and other lewd noises continued. I could only imagine Harry’s tightened fist, wet from his own drool, working diligently at his neglected cock.

“...Mm…h-hm…ugghhh…”

It seemed like Harry's white-noise machine had some impressive competition. My lips curved into a smirk and my embarrassment exponentially subsided.

His growls vibrated right through the layers of paint and drywall—sliding their way under my shirt, swirling around my perked nipples before bolting straight down to my fingertips, coaxing them to push deeper into my heat. Squeezing my thighs together and arching my back, I curled those digits and gasped out audibly. Feminine arousal leaked from my center and down the crease where my ass met my thighs. Everything was so slippery. I’d made a mess of myself within seconds. Not to mention, the pornographic squelch of my fingers echoed shamelessly beyond the slick walls of my cunt.

If Harry’s spit-covered palm was loud enough to hear over the white noise, then I knew the splashy reservoir between my legs was audible too.

Another series of grunts and huffs sounded beyond the wall behind me and the white noise machine was switched off. I retracted my fingers and slid them up and down my slit, teasing myself and picturing Harry rubbing the head of his dick along my entrance. My brow pinched hedonistic agony. Oh, God, did I want him inside me…I needed something…anything…

With my less-saturated hand, I reached over to open my bedside drawer and lifted the lower compartment to retrieve the silk satchel that encased my dildo. My sticky-slick fingers fumbled impatiently with the ties until the toy comically launched out of the bag and bounced itself smack down onto the inside of my splayed thigh. I could just picture Harry laughing at my lack of grace even though he was busy with his own deeds next door. The thought of Harry teasing me about the dildo made me blush a bit, and I smiled to myself, imagining his hand reaching out to brush my hair out of my face, his pupils dilating as he’d sit on his knees next to the bed and lean over me until his lips grazed my ear…

Be a good girl and show me what filthy things you do with this, Bunny…Show me where it goes…Show me how you fuck yourself…

I hadn’t realized I’d done it again. I’d gotten lost in that depraved little world of mine, and I whimpered aloud in response to the Imaginary Harry who was speaking in my fantasy, “Y-you want me to fuck my pussy for you, Daddy?” Maybe it was the Imaginary Harry again, but I could’ve sworn that I heard a silky British voice nearby react, “Goddd…dammit, Bun’…Ugh, fuuuck, yes. Fuck that sweet little pussy f’me, baby, holy shit…”

Laying back down, I brought the silicone cock up to my lips and sucked it into my mouth. I slowly bobbed my head on it and soaked it with my saliva after deepthroating it several times. The sloppy blowjob I gave to my dildo seemed to have been loud enough to be heard by Harry next door, as he voiced out, “Oh my god, Y/N…I wanna fuck that pretty mouth.”

I pulled it away from my tongue, a string of drool dripping from the tip, and rubbed the head of the toy against my sensitive clit whilst I responded, bringing me right back to where I needed to be. 

“Mmhh, but you can’t put a baby in me that way, Daddy.”

My own eyes widened and I gasped. I couldn’t believe I’d actually fucking said that.

“Shit! Ughh…Ahh…Ughhhh…Fuck you, Bunny…Almost made me…c-come…Christ—Ohhh, fuck me…”

With my free hand, I sucked on my index finger and let my eyes flutter closed as I pulled it out from my lips, trailing it down my neck, all the way to my breasts. Groping myself as best as I could with the rest of my hand, I used my forefinger to tease my nipple whilst the dildo swirled and swiped around my slickened slit. My breathing picked up quickly. The dildo had eventually disappeared inside my clenching hole. The only audible sounds I remember hearing were those of my own—my high-pitched gasps, the pornographic swishing and squelching of the dildo fucking my drenched cunt, the wet flicking noises of my fingers moving rapidly against my clit…I don’t even remember how loud Harry was at that point, I was too focused on my fantasy—my fantasy with him—to notice. I was so focused, in fact, that I had once again lost all sense of self-control and consciousness, succumbing to whatever had come naturally to me at the time and practically singing out my song of ecstasy for the whole goddamn neighborhood.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod…Harry, please. I need your cum…Oh, god, please come inside me. Fuck all your cum d-dee–oh g…–ah! Yes! Yes! Don’t stop!”

As I begged for my climax, Harry seemed to have been on the edge of his orgasm as well.

“Jesus Christ, you’re gonna kill me, Y/N…You want me to fill you up? Be my little breeding bunny? God…You dirty girl…Fuuuck…oh fuck, I’m gonna come…”

“Yes! Yes, Daddy! I can take it! Please! Yes, yes, yes, yes! Aaahhh!”

I unraveled with a squeak followed by a series of breathless sobs, my hands, wrists, and arms working frantically and my eyes rolled back whilst the kaleidoscope of pleasure poured through my body. Immediately after my explosion, I collapsed like a ragdoll with the dildo slowly pushing out of me, and my fingers slipping around on my clit to prolong my high. As my breathing recovered, I listened to the tail-end of the orgasm taking place from Harry’s side of the wall.

“Holy shit…Fucking take all of it f’me, babe—ohhhh, yeah…uhh-uuggh…mmhh…hm…Damnit…’So much…I wish all this was inside you, Bunny…fucking hell…”

I’d slept like a rock once I finally passed out. I wasn’t even worried about what would come the next morning. Nah, I had the upper hand on this one for once. As a bratty submissive, I’d gotten used to being teased and controlled. What an interesting feeling to exist on the other side. God, it felt fucking fantastic. Unfortunately for Harry, he wasn’t as confident…or at least that was what I’d been able to interpret in the days following. Nights after the first one, I’d carry on fucking my cunt until I was physically too exhausted to move my pretty little hands anymore. I swear I’d heard Harry finish at least thrice in one night once. (Impressive, Styles.) As for myself…well, I usually lost count.

That first morning, I awoke with sore arms, a rogue dildo laying on the floor, my limbs tangled inside my sheets, yet a ridiculous smile was perma-glued onto my sleepy, orgasm-spent face. I tried my best to tone it down, as I didn’t want to prance around the house like I’d just risen from a deep sleep induced by a gazillion-and-one pulsating firecrackers of pleasure. Too obvious, you know? Had to act nonchalant. Unbothered. 

Who was I kidding—I was the most chalant person I knew. Harry would see right through that charade. But there honestly wasn’t much need for pretending on my part since Harry had actively avoided any and all eye contact with me anyway. I’d never seen the man be so meek. It was truly a sight. 

Things would eventually loosen up as the days progressed, especially if it was a work day which meant Harry had an excuse to be miles away from me for several hours. It was somewhat of a bummer because I thoroughly enjoyed this sampling of power I newly held over the man. I reveled in the way our typical roles would reverse the mornings after our little bedtime serenades. They weren’t a nightly occurrence, as I preferred to keep him on his toes; however, they’d happen often enough that I tended to daydream in the middle of my work meetings. I’d even begun to retreat to my bedroom an hour or so earlier in the evenings, giving Harry some lame excuse like tiredness or a headache. In reality, it was me signaling that I needed to get myself off sooner rather than later. Whenever I’d announce my departure, I could feel how much he’d been aching for it all day, too. Harry eventually utilized the same approach to speed up the fulfillment of his own needs. I’d changed up my tempo, my method of pleasure, the filth of my words, even my own positions whilst touching myself. It seemed like it had become almost like a routine for him to wait for me to fall into bed late in the evening. (Yet another one for me to be distracted by…) 

Nothing’s changed. I still imagine that he patiently lays atop his soft duvet with an anxious throb booming against his eardrums…That minutes will go by with him training his ear to follow each soft pad of my feet. And then I shut my door. I waste no time before diving my pretty fingers inside the waistband of my underwear and playing with my sensitive little petal—allowing all the filth to freely escape my lips. And every single time we do this, I’m in my room picturing him naked from the waist down, one hand eagerly pumping his dripping length whilst the other massages his balls and perineum. To this day, the waves of simultaneous pleasure are still trapped only by the few measly layers of drywall that stand in between us.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I know, I know…it’s been a while…but I’m back:-) and this isn’t the end of Harry’s Home—the final part is basically finished, but I wanted to post this chunk of it since I’d been kind of neglecting my account for months now. I hope y’all like it! Xoxo ~ Régan 💋

Tags: @daphnesutton @victoria-styles @pishhhh20989 @heyyyloverr @youdontcaredoyou @jerseygirlinca

[kokushibouthings]

Their reactions to you having the most foul, and horrendous laugh ever

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Content: SFW/Funny, fluff maybe?, Uppermoons n muzan, Gender Neutral reader

Pairing/s: Character I mentioned above x Reader

Authors note: Got this idea from @weskerspersonalcunt (very interesting user🤔) also idk if I should cringe or laugh from this I have mixed emotions with what I write

---------------------------------------------------------

As you two were having a peaceful conversation... Kind of.

He offered to drink tea with you outside at some random place when it turned night. It had a pretty beautiful scenery.

It was pretty awkward, till you tried to crack a joke but happened to end up be the one laughing at it instead..

As you were basically wheezing, it started to sound like you were a dying donkey hyperventilating

"BWAAAHHAAHAHAAHAHHA, AHHH... EEEEAAAAAAEEEEHH" He stared at you, his mouth slightly agape in absolute shock followed with confusion as a hand slowly raised up from underneath the table, reaching out for you...

"Uu...hmmm... ha, ha, ha?" Suddenly you stopped wheezing, being the one to stare with confusion with him instantly turning to look down at the ground somehow embarrassed.

You were doing some sort of meditation lesson with this cheery hot idiot, and again. It was weird as fuck.

You couldn't take his calm serious voice as he was always the jokester and cheerful one seriously ...and kept trying to contain yourself from bursting out laughing...

Until he said something in probably somehow the funniest tone ever.

"Inhale.. Exhale... Now anyway. Next ste–" The sudden cut off of the inhaling steps, again somehow made the balloon inside of you pop.

You let out a type of squeal, which almost sounded like a tea kettle boiling as you pounded on the wooden floors frantically before him

"...Huh? Are you okay, my child?" His eyebrows furrowed in more of a confused yet sad way... "I–I'M SORRY... AAAEEEHHhhh.. I CAN'T. I JUST CANT–"

You pounded on the wooden floor some more before collapsing on to the ground still wheezing, he was completely confused.

He couldn't tell if you were mocking him or just randomly thought of some weird shit.

When you burst out laughing like absolute crazy, his eyes widened, eyebrows slightly furrowing with his lips slightly parting showing his teeth...

The only thing that went through his mind was; what the fuck is that sound..?

"What the actual fuck is wrong with your laugh." Sternly said, you tried to control your laughter but you just couldn't...

He sighed, his hand pressed against his forehead. "Whatever.. Lets just sleep. I'm tired..."

It was clear he was annoyed by that laugh but he didn't actually want to act super pissed at his beloved partner...

As you were still wheezing trying to stop, he was also trying..to sleep in peace.

And the reason you were laughing, was cause of some stupid story he told earlier..

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Ed: okay okay do it again I can take it this time I promise. Not gonna do it. Just watch. Stoic as a brick wall, me

Stede: alright, here we go. Ed Teach, my beautiful boyfriend, who is such a good boy for me -

Ed: *squeals in delight and buries his face in his hands*

Stede, infuriatingly smug: heh. Got you again. You like that, don't you

Ed: shut uuupppp you smug bastard

Stede: no, I don't think I will

Ed: it's your turn. fucker

Stede: yeah watch. just see how it's done

Ed: Stede Bonnet, my boyfriend, is the coolest, most amazing partner, and so fucking hot -

Stede: *turns the color of a boiled lobster and covers his mouth with his hand to pretend he's not giggling in glee*

Ed: guess we're pretty much even, huh

Stede: whatever you say. My good boy. My sweetiepie. My snuggly-wuggly little honeybun

Ed, at the same pitch as a tea kettle: aw c'mon man you're not playing fair

[blingblong55]

Improper -141

Based on a request:

I'm currently sick with the flu🤧 And made some tea this morning, but the American way lol. And it got me thinking about how upset the British guys would get watching an american!reader try to make tea (puts a mug of water in the microwave, then adds the tea bag to the hot water) Would they be gentle and show reader the correct way or would they stare at reader appalled and disgusted 😂😂

A/n: The gasp I let out, babes why would you do us brits like this!! you're breaking my heart here, but since you're sick I'll give you this pass, also a special delivery pookie<3 Get well

GN!Reader, american!reader, trigger warning for my brit readers, sick!reader, platonic!relationship, soldier!reader

You have been volunteering at the medic bay, wanting to help some of the new recruits get over this sickness and just 2 days later, you laid in bed, sick with the flu. Your nose is all red, tissues pilling up on your desk. "Fuckin' shit, it's always me." You complained and got up from your bed. You walked to the common room where the team was. "Hey guys" your voice raspy and low. "Mate, you al'right?" Gaz asked from the sofa and all you gave him was a thumbs up.

You grab your designated mug and pour water from the bottles of water by the fridge, You open a packet and put the tea bag inside the mug. The microwave does the work and as you stand and wait, Price walks up to you, getting a piece of the snacks Soap made. "You looked like shite, kid." he chuckles and eats some of the food. "Feel like shit too."

Ghost walks in, ready for his midday tea when you take your mug from the microwave. All the men in the room gasped. "What're yer doing, mate?!" Even Soap felt offended.

"Y'all never made tea like this?"

"We have a bloody kettle for this reason!" Ghost shows you the item and tosses it on the stove. You watch as the four men all argue against you. "Bloody Americans always want the easy way out!"

"I mean the fuckin' microwave!" Gaz's voice squeals a little. "It's just tea, calm your tits." and that comment earns another gasp from the men.

In unison, "Just tea!"

You nod and reach for the sugar, Price shakes his head. Ghost reaches for your mug and dumps it out on the sink. "Bad human!" he scolds you. You laugh, you never knew the stereotype was an actual thing. "Now y'all will tell me you really got offended over the Boston Tea Party."

"It's tea, mate." Gaz looks at you disapprovingly and pats your back. "It's time we teach our little American 'ere to make proper tea, yeah?" All men nod and Ghost slowly and I mean slowly as if you were some child gives you a step-by-step on how to: use the kettle, understand when the tea is ready, that you must pour milk first and then the tea.

They all watch as you drink a sip and wait for your comment. "It's..tea, I still don't get why y'all are so pressed about this?"

"Look 'ere Hollywood, it's not just tea, we have customs 'ere for them. You must always follow these steps, yeah?" Gaz tried to talk you out of your usual American ways. You sigh, "Fine, but you better not try to change my way of fucking talking, fuckin' brits." You walk back to your room. The tea was possibly the best you've had and it did make you feel better now.

Meanwhile, the team tried to console a devasted teammate Ghost. "I can't believe I trust this person with my life on the field and they can't make one proper tea!"

Price rubs his back and shakes his head, "Shame Hollywood will go back to their ways." The four men stand there, meanwhile Gaz has already sent you four links to stores near you that sell kettles and YouTube links to teach you how to properly make tea.

Tags: @warenai

[rowretro]

✧𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍✧

WARNINGS: nothing i know of

✧taglist✧: @heeseung-min @jaeneohee @lovingvoidgoatee @neruishoon (anyone I may have missed)

✧CHAPTER 8✧

It's been a week since the girl had found out she's pregnant. She was currently visiting back home, Sunghoon accompanying her. "Y/n look- its the barbie doll I completely damaged" Heeseung snickered "Yeah im surprised you aren't a serial killer" y/n mumbled. Heeseung rolled his eyes as he started talking about how he was the creator of weird barbie and that Kate McKinnon played the role of a character he created when he was an 8 year old who bullied his babysis.

"Awww it's pinky bear!" y/n squealed as she pulled her pink teddy bear out, the two felt nostalgic as they went through the old toy boxes in their attic. Y/n smiled rocking the teddy bear gently as if it were a baby which really weirded Heeseung out. The girl was seen carrying the bear everywhere. "Y/n can you make me a cup of tea sweety?" Her mum asked as the girl smiled.

She set the teddy down, and turned the kettle on, somehow, as she tried to reach for the tea bags, she accidentally turned the stove on, where the pink teddy was "NO! PINKY BEAR-!" she yelled as she picked up the bear, crying to herself, Heeseung blinked at her then walked away.

The girl handed her mother the cup of tea, as she took a seat beside Sunghoon, "You take anything from the attic you need sweety?" the woman asked as y/n smiled "Yeah my pinky- Pin- PINKY- oh no..." she ran to the kitchen and looked in the freezer "Oh no" she whimpered. "Oh honey it's ok, she's still ok you can take it home n put it in the washing machine" her mom reassured.

Pouting, y/n took a seat on the floor, fiddling with pinky, as her mom slipped beside her. Sunghoon was upstairs gaming with Heeseung. "God it feels like it's been forever- when was the last time I got to see my baby girl home?" her mother asked smiling as y/n smiled back. "Mom... did you ever regret having me?... I mean you had hee when you were 18 didn't we ruin Uni for you?" y/n asked as her mom sighed.

"Oh honey... well at first yes I was upset about being so irresponsible, but... When I saw your little faces, and the way you depended on me... I was willing to give up everything and anything for you 2..." the woman said as y/n smiled, staring down at the pink teddy bear. Maybe she should tell Sunghoon... even if he doesn't want them, it'll be best she know soon before it's too late. "Come on baby, home time~" Sunghoon sang as y/n kissed her mother and hugged her brother goodbye.

Y/n sat in the car, staring at her damaged teddy as she pouted. Seeing the teddy all damaged really hit her. There's a real baby inside her... She's going to be a real mom. Sunghoon got in the car, noticing her little pout "What is it baby?... is it the teddy? don't worry ill fix it for you hmm?" the man said as y/n turned to him, teary eyed. "Sunghoon... I haven't told anyone yet but... Im 1 month pregnant..." the girl said as the man stared in shock.

"A-Are you mad at me?..." you asked, scared as Sunghoon just hugged you tightly "Fuck baby... im fucking happy. There's a little us growing in there..." he smiled, his hand on your womb. He was actually happy. That genuine smile on his face said enough. "I-Im scared... t-this whole time I was trying to practice being a mommy with pinky... but pinky is all wounded because of me..." y/n sniffled "Oh baby... its just a teddy, trust me when I say this, once you see the look on our angel's face, your mommy instincts will kick in okay?... and I will be here for you, I'll always be by your side" he reassured, pulling you into a kiss.

✧𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍✧

[aamalaaa]

sunrises & liquor (m) | myg

home

pairing: yoongi x reader

series: sunrises & liquor

rating: m(18+); cursing, alcohol consumption, smut, explicit content

genre: bar workers au, barman yoongi au, (kinda) forbidden relationship, angst, fluff, smut, romance

summary: after a failed academic pursuit and a few meaningless and disappointing relationships, you decided to go back to what you never thought you would: the bar industry. There you find a family, friends, heartache, misunderstandings and one particular barman who just won’t get out of your head.

warnings: cursing, alcohol consumption (duh), smut, dirty talk, biting, slapping, oral sex(m. & f. receiving), unprotected sex(wrap it before you tap it folks), shower sex, body worshipping(sort of), vomit inducing fluff, there’s blood (barely)

a/n: well hello, fancy seeing you here! I’m sorry I didn’t update for a while, I’ve been very sick. but now I’m back and better soooo welcome to another chapter of s&l! we’re getting into the teeth rotting fluff and they somewhat act like adults, amazing! anyway, thanks for reading as always, I appreciate you guys SO so much&lt;3

// thanks to my dear friend who beta’d for me, @lilredtot couldn’t have done it without you I love you<3

hapter word count: 7.1 k

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“Where is it?” 

You scan the living room in search of the now famous ‘Cat’ but it’s no use, you can’t locate the furry companion anywhere.

“Stop pouting, it's probably hiding in my room.”

“I’m not pouting,” You stick your tongue out.

Yoongi rolls his eyes as a lopsided smile works its way upon his cheeks. 

“Tell that to your face.”

He makes his way down the main corridor as you shrug your winter garment off and hang it on the coat hanger. You glance in the rectangular mirror perched on the wall to your left.

And holy shit you look like a mess. 

Strands of hair sticking in every imaginable direction, eyeliner smudged on your cheeks, eyes bloodshot red and dark circles underneath your eyes. Why hadn’t Yoongi told you how fucking ridiculous you look?

You drag the flat side of your index fingers on your cheeks and under your eyes to try and get rid of the onyx smudges, only serving to make it worse.

It’s really no use. 

You sigh and card a hand through your hair, attempting to the best of your abilities to tame your wild mane. That’s when you notice Yoongi coming back through the hallway, a black ball of fluff snuggled in his arms.

You squeal in delight. “Oh my fucking god.”

Yoongi winces at the pitch of your voice.

“You’re gonna scare the poor cat.” 

“Hey you, aren’t you the most beautiful creature on earth,” You coo as you slowly bring your hand a few inches away from the black cat’s nose.

The animal quietly sniffs the air, its whiskers shaking in a very endearing way, before inching closer towards your hand, carefully observing it and tentatively licking your middle finger with its tiny pink tongue.

Yoongi smiles fondly at the scene playing right before his eyes and affectionately caresses the cat’s head before whispering, as if not to disturb the animal, 

Yoongi smiles fondly at the scene playing right before his eyes and affectionately caresses the cat’s head before whispering, as if not to disturb the animal, 

“I think it likes you.”

You point to your chest with your free hand, the other one still being peppered with tiny licks.

You point to your chest with your free hand, the other one still being peppered with tiny licks.

“Me?”

“No, I’m talking to the other person in the room.”

You glare at him and go for a soft pet of the animal’s fluffy head. The purr that resonates through the air at the gesture warms every fiber of your being.

“I like it too,” You quietly squeal, the sound resembling a warmed up tea kettle.

“If i didn’t know better I’d think you like my cat more than you like me,” Yoongi chuckles.

And his voice is so hoarse and gravely you feel warmth flooding through you and settling at the base of your stomach as the sound of it reaches your ears.

You rake your throat awkwardly and lay a gentle kiss on the cat’s head. It closes its eyes leisurely before looking at you again with its wide golden orbs.

“Maybe I do,” You tease.

“You disrespect me in my house, under my roof, in front of my cat.”

“Cry baby,” You cackle loudly, clutching at your stomach. 

The cat jumps and leaps out of its owner’s arms at the sudden loudness of your laughter. 

“Oh no no no no, I’m so sorry baby.”

It’s no use, the cat rushes through the corridor and into a dark room.

Yoongi chuckles darkly. “Seems like you’re stuck with your second choice now.”

You yelp as he grabs your waist and brings you forward, a few inches from his chest, where you lay the palm of your hands. “Yeah well, you can’t always get what you want.” 

You trace the outline of firm pecs through soft fabric, relishing in the light shiver it earns you from the object of your affection. 

“How sad,” He lowly rumbles, mouth now a few inches from yours.

You audibly gulp. “A tragedy.” 

Yoongi hums before encasing your mouth with his luscious lips and nipping at your bottom flesh. A small whimper makes its way past your throat and you go lax in his hold, letting him take control of the situation.

It’s not like earlier, when you were both lost in the throes of carnal passion. It’s sloppy, slow and Yoongi takes his sweet time savoring each and every sound his ministrations brings out of you, caressing you gently as he does so. 

You easily get lost in his lips, his smell, his taste, the feel of his fingertips and the small contented hums he emits from time to time.

“We should probably go to sleep,” He declares in between gentle presses of his lips.

“There’s a lot of things we should do.” You breathe out against his mouth.

Yoongi chuckles lightly before pecking your cheek, slowly making his way down your jawline.

“Believe me there’s a lot of things I want to do with you love, but we both work in a few hours.”

You dramatically sigh and throw your head back a bit to grant him better access to your throat. He eagerly starts tracing his way there with soft brushes of hot lips, leaving a fiery trail in his wake.

You grip the front of his shirt, “You say one thing but then your body says another.”

You shiver as you feel the wet pad of his tongue licking at your throat before his teeth scrape the sensitive skin there, setting you ablaze.

You almost think you’ve won the battle, almost.

But just when you think you did, Yoongi parts from your throat and leaves a chaste peck upon your lips, spurring a frustrated whine out of you. 

“Just a little taste to keep you on your toes 'till next time,” He murmurs.

You pout. “No fair.”

Yoongi chuckles hoarsely. “What’s not fair is you liking my cat more than me.”

You cross your arms over your chest and pout deeply at him.

“But have you seen your cat?” 

He quirks a brow at you before taking your hand and tugging you towards what you assume to be his bedroom. He flicks the light switch on and well, it’s not what you expected.

In all fairness you didn’t know what to expect, Yoongi being the kind of person to keep his cards pretty close to his chest.

The room is tiny, but very clean and organized. The queen bed lays in the middle of the room and takes most of the space. Almost everything is in different shades of white and grey, except for the dresser, nightstands and bed frame, which are a light oak color. 

It’s all very calming and peaceful, and yeah, you should’ve expected it considering Yoongi is one of the most comforting human being you’ve ever known. 

You notice a little ball of fluff peeking out from under the bed.

“Don’t be afraid of me baby,” You soothe, getting on all fours and scooting closer to the animal.

It sniffs the air and smacks its head against the palm of your hand.

“That’s a good kitty,” You caress the cat gently, being careful not to scare it.

Yoongi rummages through his dresser for a few seconds before throwing a few pieces of clothing on the made up bed.

“I don’t really know what you usually wear to bed but yeah,” He glances at you, an amused smile working its way upon his face.

You awkwardly get up and pat your knees. Yoongi rubs the back of his neck and hands you an oversized black t-shirt and dark charcoal coloured sweatpants.

You smile coyly. “That’s perfect, thanks.”

You stand still for a few seconds, feeling a bit shy all of a sudden. And you shouldn’t because, well, you just had sex on a bar counter. But you still do.

“Could you..”

Yoongi shakes his head and smirks at you. 

“Cute.”

Your cheeks heat up at an alarming rate and you shoo him out the door, earning you a loud chuckle as Yoongi closes the door behind him.. 

You swiftly change out of your current attire, throwing the dirty clothes in a pile on the dresser, then pull Yoongi’s garments on. The sweatpants are a bit too loose and the t-shirt is definitely oversized, but it’s very comfortable all around. You have no complaints. 

Plus, the clothes smell of delicious bergamot and pine wood, just like their owner. And you definitely have no complaints about that. 

Yoongi gently knocks on the door before asking,

“Can I come in?” 

You pat the t-shirt down. “Yeah..” 

He opens the door and smiles at you.

“Damn, you look hot with my clothes on.”

You blush furiously and hide your face behind your hand. “Shut up.”

He laughs and drops a toothbrush on the dresser. “I had an unopened pack of these, you can have it.”

“You better, you did invite me here after all.”

“Ungrateful brat,” Yoongi mumbles, though there’s a hint of a smile on his heart shaped lips. 

You grab the toothbrush and head out the door, but not before leaving a short kiss on the man’s cheek. 

“Thanks Yoongi.”

You skip down the hallway and to what you assume to be the bathroom. There’s only three doors after all, one of which you just came out of, it doesn’t leave a lot of room for error. 

As soon as you step in, you notice toothpaste on the sink, along with skin care products. 

“Yoongi, can I use your face wash?” 

You hear a positive answer and so you quickly wash your face, scrubbing thoroughly to get rid of the now faded makeup unflatteringly adorning your face. Then, you brush your teeth and get ready for bed. 

Once you’re done and content you make your way to the bedroom once again and freeze once you step into the room. 

Yoongi’s busy pulling his sweatpants on, half naked. And god you can’t believe you had sex with him because holy shit he’s hot. Planes of smooth skin, a flat stomach with slightly defined abs, broad and strong shoulders that could probably carry you without too much strain. Why is it so fucking hot in here?

It’s not like you haven’t seen it before, but it was in the dark. Now there’s strong lighting, exposing each and every detail to your greedy gaze. And you’d be a fool not to drink it all in eagerly. 

He pulls a black shirt on before turning around, noticing you. He shoots a questioning look your way,

“What?”

You glare at him. “You can’t tell me you don’t know how fucking ridiculously hot you are.”

He shrugs and you notice a slightly pink shade coloring his otherwise pale cheeks. Oh. 

He clears his throat. “You got any side you prefer?” He motions at the bed. “I can also sleep on the couch if you prefer-“

“The side closest to the door.” 

He nods, “I’ll go grab something, make yourself at home love.” He heads out once again and you slowly climb into bed, shivering as you slide under the covers. You settle against the soft pillow and sigh contentedly. 

No less than a minute later Yoongi comes back holding two glasses of clear liquid which he drops on both nightstands. 

“What’s that?” You quietly ask.

“Water.” He flips the light switch off, basking the room in darkness. 

You feel the mattress dip under his weight as he gets into bed and under the covers. You turn to face him, tentatively searching for his arm with your hand. 

“Ow,” He hisses as you hit what you think is his nose.

You gasp and burst into a fit of giggles. “I’m so sorry!” 

Yoongi slides a hand onto your waist and draws you closer, groaning in the process. 

“Like hell you are.” 

Your giggles get louder. “I swear I am, I was looking for your arm.” 

“Nice aim,” He chuckles, bringing a hand up to your hair and stroking it. 

You press closer to his chest, and relax in his hold. 

“Thanks for inviting me.” You whisper against his rhythmic heartbeat.

“Thanks for accepting.” 

He lays a kiss on the top of your head and you almost purr. 

“Did you put an alarm on?” You ask, just now remembering that you both need to get up in a few hours.

“I did. Now sleep, love.”

You wish you could take in more of this moment, it’s perfect, in every way you could think of. But you’re so sleepy, and the hand softly stroking your hair lulls you to sleep faster than you’d think possible.

“Okay,” You barely slur out. 

That night you fall into Morpheus’s arms, feeling completely safe and content.

Everything is warm and fuzzy and you feel so goddamn good you don’t ever want to move. But there’s this wet feeling on your cheek that annoys you to no end, and this quiet rustling noise that keeps perturbing you. 

It’s when you feel a soft push on your forehead that your eyes snap open and you realize you’re not at home in bed. You realize because there’s golden eyes, a few inches from your face, staring right at you with curiosity.

You groan and pet the furry companion, 

“Good morning Cat..” 

The cat meows at you and bumps his head against your forehead, making you effectively swoon as you affectionately caress the fluffy creature.

You lift your head slowly, taking in your surroundings. It’s definitely morning, the soft light coming in through the window cuing you in.

You rub your face and realize, to your horror, that you have drool drying on the right corner of your mouth, which prompts you to peek at the pillow on which you were sleeping and oh my god, you drooled on it.

So much for making a good impression after sleeping at Yoongi’s place for the first time.

Speaking of Yoongi, where the fuck is he? Not in bed that’s for sure.

You toss the covers off of your body and get up from the mattress, almost losing balance in the process. 

God, Yoongi may have fucked you a bit too good last night. It’s been a while since you’ve felt this sore after spending the night with someone.

Not that you mind.

You take your time making your way out of the bedroom and into the living room, analyzing the room to the best of your sleepy abilities, since you hadn’t really paid attention last night. 

The kitchen and living room are pretty much the same as the bedroom, clean lines and minimal clutter. It’s fascinating really, how someone’s living space can tell so much about them. 

There’s also a wide window with a beautiful direct view of the neighborhood’s park.

But the most beautiful view of all is Yoongi, with his back turned to you cooking god knows what and humming quietly as he does so, grey sweatpants hanging off his dainty hips, the hem of his shirt stuck a little higher up, giving you just a glimpse of soft pale skin.

You don’t even notice you’re smiling when you make your way towards him and bump your little toe on the corner of the kitchen island.

“Ow fucking hell,” You yelp and grab the counter forcefully as a myriad of curses slip past your lips.

Yoongi swivels around quickly at the commotion and abandons his cooking to grab your waist tenderly, confusion marring his features. 

“You ok?” 

You plaintively hum and feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, momentarily avoiding his gaze and settling for your feet instead.

“I hurt my toe,” You pout, finally meeting his eyes.

His eyebrows knit in concern.

“Want me to look at that for you?” He softly asks as he rubs your waist soothingly.

And god, if his tired hoarse voice made you tingly all over last night, it’s nothing compared to his raspy morning voice. You could bathe in it all day long.

“No, no I'll be ok.. ``Watcha cookin there?” You swiftly change the subject as an attempt to not let his hand on your waist have too much of an effect on you.

He grins widely, showing off smooth pink gums as he does. And it’s fucking adorable. You wonder how someone can be so attractive and cute at the same time, it shouldn’t be legal. 

“I’m just making pancakes, sit down it’s almost ready,” He turns his back on you again to prepare your breakfast and you stare at him completely dumbfounded. No one ever did that for you, ever.

“O-ok..” You take a seat at the counter and play with your fingers to try and distract you from your thoughts. It’s nerve wracking how quickly this man could make you fall head over heels for him. 

You need to slow down and tame the butterflies flying around in your stomach.

Yoongi shoots you an amused look before sliding a hot pancake into a white plate and handing it to you. 

“Utensils are in this drawer, there’s condiments and fruits in the fridge.”

And you feel a bit awkward rummaging through his fridge, but he implicitly said you could so you gather your courage and get maple syrup, whipped cream and strawberries out of the fridge and prepare your meal.

Yoongi soon joins you at the counter and you both eat in silence, stealing shy glances at each other from time to time, a bashful smile plastered upon your face no matter how hard you try to will it away.

You could get used to this, you think. And that scares you shitless because anything worth getting used to can also hurt the most if all hell breaks loose.

You don’t even notice you stopped eating until a gentle gruff voice startles you,

“What are you thinking about?” 

You shake your head and smile. “About how we have to go to work later.”

Yoongi lets out a long and deep sigh. “We still have like two hours or something left before we have to go.” He gets up and picks up both of your plates, promptly dropping them next to the sink. “I’m gonna take a shower.” 

You nod coyly, too shy to ask if you could also take one. 

“I’ll leave the door open if you wanna join me.” 

You swiftly lift your head up, eyes widening as you take in his cocky expression. He laughs wholeheartedly at your reaction.

“Don’t feel obliged to love. But I’d like it if you joined me.” He grins and makes his way to the bathroom as you stay seated and follow his movements, mouth slightly agape and cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. 

Oh.

You stay there for so long, unsure what to do, that you hear the shower start running. It was all fine in the heat of the moment, when you were both basked in darkness and hungry for each other.

Now, you’re still very much hungry for him, but you’re also very shy. It all feels different, more intimate. And that also scares you.

But what are you if not willing to step out of your comfort zone from time to time? Taehyung always says you need to get out of your head, this is the perfect opportunity. Because Yoongi will be kind about it, you’re sure of that.

So you shakily get up from your seat and head towards the bathroom, legs quivering in anticipation and nervousness. And it’s embarrassing, really, how fast you get aroused just thinking about Yoongi naked in the shower, pressing on you with his strong body.

You quietly step into the bathroom, the sound of running water doing absolutely nothing to calm your nerves, and slowly tug your clothes off, one by one, until you’re stripped bare and shivering. You open the fogged up glass door and step inside almost moaning at the sight awaiting you. 

Yoongi, eyes closed under the shower head, letting the stream of hot water run through his hair and down his back, perfect ass on display. 

You almost lose it on the spot.

You can see the corner of Yoongi’s mouth lift up into a slight smirk as you step closer and engulf him in a hug, pressing your breast against his slick back and closing your eyes to take in the moment.

You stay like that for a few seconds, relishing in the warmth and letting the fog fill your lungs before Yoongi swirls around and rests his hands on your hips, the skin to skin contact making you slightly dizzy.

You slowly blink and meet his soft gaze, almost melting along with the water and sinking down the drain.

Yoongi draws you closer, flush against his chest and you look up straight into his eyes, blinking away the water sliding down your eyelashes in quick motions. 

You don’t notice you’re shaking until Yoongi points it out,

“You’re trembling, are you cold?” He steps back to let you stand directly under the warm flow of water. You close your eyes and take a shaky breath. 

“No I’m-“ You stop and bite your lip. “I’m.. scared”

Yoongi freezes and moves the both of you away from the shower head, swiping at your eyes in the process. 

“Of me?” 

You frown and shake your head. “No, no, god no. Of this, of us, it’s.. intimate.” 

Yoongi’s features soften at your words and he cradles the side of your face, caressing your cheek softly. 

“It is,” He smiles. “We’re not doing anything you’re not comfortable with, I promise.”

You nod weakly and stare at him, getting lost in his deep obsidian pools as time stands still for a few seconds. You inch closer, lips just a few inches from his own before halting in your movement,

“I’m comfortable with you.” 

And just like that, you bring him in for a searing kiss which Yoongi reciprocates ardently while tightening his hold on your frame. He leads you back under the water and cages you between his arms against the glass window. You jolt at the contact of cold glass on skin, a moan threatening to spill from your lips.

Pleasure courses through your whole body as Yoongi laps greedily at your mouth with expert swipes of his tongue and you don’t even try to fight for dominance, you happily let him take and take.

Because Yoongi almost never takes, he gives, never asking for anything in return. And so when he does take, you let him. Because it fills you up to the brim with gratefulness and satisfaction, because he almost never does, too content with giving. 

You want to give back.

You trail your fingers down his chest in featherlight touches, feeling him shiver and momentarily stutter in his movements as you close your hand around the base of his fastly hardening cock, making you smile through the kiss.

You give a few tentative strokes before fastening your pace, swirling your wrist as you pump his hard length with your tiny hand, which seems that much more petite around his thick girth. 

He groans against your lips before hitting the glass wall with his fist, the gesture making your tight walls clench around nothing.

“You’re making me go crazy love,” He rasps out, breaking the kiss. 

You innocently look into his eyes, pumping his cock faster, lingering on the red tip for a few seconds before swirling your hand down again.

He bores into your eyes with such a lustful look you weakly clench again. “What did I do to deserve this?”

“So many things,” You gently whisper against his plump lips. “Just- Just let me do this for you.” 

“Fucking hell, do what you want, I’m all yours babe.”  He curses out, bringing a hand over his mouth.

And so you slowly sink down onto your knees, closing your eyes momentarily as water cascades down your face in soothing waves and lay your tongue flat against the base of his cock, licking upwards in one smooth, tantalizing motion before taking the tip into your mouth and sinking down on his twitching length, prompting another curse out of him.

You slowly work him up, letting your throat adjust to his size, taking more and more inches as you bob your head up and down. Yoongi grips your hair gently, not tugging or pressing, it’s almost like a grounding motion you think. And it’s soothing, it encourages you to take more and more of him, warmth and pride blooming in your chest as you hear him quietly groaning.

It’s not as difficult now, and your throat is getting used to the intrusion. So you sink down and take as much of him as you can, gagging when the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat. You stay there for a few seconds before trying to take a little more, tearing a straight up unholy sound from Yoongi’s throat as his grip on your hair tightens. 

You moan around him and immediately yelp in surprise as Yoongi grips your arm and tugs you upwards, letting your hair go as he does so, only to forcefully clutch your cheek.

“Fuck, are you trying to make me cum before I even get to fuck you?”

You mewl at his words, shivers erupting all over your skin like pinpricks,

“I just wanted to please you, I didn’t-“ 

You’re cut off by an assertive press of pillowy lips against your own and you relax in the blond’s man hold. 

“You did Angel.. God that mouth of yours is amazing.” He presses his forehead against your own. “But nothing would please me more than making you feel good. Do you want that?” 

Your eyes roll all the way to the back of your head as his words register. If you’re being honest, it’s probably the hottest thing you’ve ever heard.

Yoongi lightly taps your cheek at the lack of response. “Do you want that Angel? Can I fuck you dumb?” He whispers, his words a sharp contrast against the loving tone of his voice.

“I really do Yoongi, please,” You whimper brokenly, already fucked out even though the man hasn’t even touch you yet.

He dives down to your throat, sucking and nibbling lightly at the supple flesh as his hands travel up and down your body, lingering on your breasts and hardened nub, teasing and flicking at them as if he knows exactly what to do to get a reaction out of you, and maybe he does. Your back arches and your breathing gets ragged and uneven, the fog now blurring your mind.

There’s only you and Yoongi, nothing else.

Yoongi parts from your throat and peers deep into your eyes,

“Turn around love.” 

You gulp and obey immediately, a pool of warmth now swimming in your abdomen, and you lay the palm of your hands flat against the glass, arching your back as you do so. 

Yoongi forcefully grabs both of your ass cheeks, kneading at the warm flesh as he lays a wet smack against your bum, shooting a jolt of electricity up your spine. 

“You’re fucking stunning love,” He all but growls against the shell of your ear, making you mewl at the praise.

And just like that he aligns himself with your entrance, teasingly flicking and tapping the tip of his cock onto it as you grind against him, desperate for friction of any kind.

And he happily obliges, slowly sinking into you and stretching you out as you cry out his name, the familiar burn making your heart race at an alarming rate.

“Fuck,” He growls through gritted teeth as he eventually bottoms out, pelvis flush against your plump ass. “Fuck Angel, you take me so fucking well.” 

You whimper loudly as he picks up a slow and steady pace, dragging the tip of his cock along your swollen insides. You can’t help the unbridled moans that escape your mouth or the shaking in your legs.

The constant and rhythmic sounds of wet skin slapping against wet skin only fuels the fire burning through your veins and the growing knot inside your stomach. 

“I’m not gonna last long babe,” Yoongi shakily declares as he starts ramming into you at full speed, your cheek now squished against the glass and drool making its way past your wide opened mouth. He grabs your hair and tugs your head down onto his shoulder, kissing and nipping at your jawline now that the position permits it.

You arch your back even more, deepening the angle at which his throbbing cock plunders through your sensitive walls, and you bite your lip fiercely, drawing blood as the new angle sends you into pure ecstasy, your high drawing closer and closer, like a tidal wave. 

Yoongi’s movements become stuttered and you know he’s very close. So you swivel your hips and throw your ass down onto his cock to coax his orgasm out. 

“Angel,” He moans out before pulling out of you and coming all over your naked ass in thick ropes of hot, white essence. 

You shudder and lay your forehead against the glass as you try and will your erratic heartbeat to calm down, the stream of water swiftly washing the results of your actions off of your body. 

But you barely have time to breathe before you’re turned around, your hands now pinned above your head and interlaced with Yoongi’s. 

“We’re not done yet.” He smirks before bringing you into a swoon worthy kiss, dragging the tip of his tongue against your mouth in languid motions. He takes his time plundering your mouth, tasting each and every corner of it before dropping down, his hands now gripping both of your shaky thighs. 

You barely have time to register what he’s about to do before a warm tongue swipes at your core, sending your mind into a frenzy and reigniting the hot pit of lava in your abdomen.

“Oh shit..” You cry out while pulling at your hair, rendered unable to control your words or movements.

Yoongi continues his ministrations, licking and swirling his tongue against you, the knot in your stomach growing pleasurably painful.

“Yoongi-“ You hoarsely yell out. “Right there, like this yeah-“ 

He hums in understanding, flicking the tip of his tongue against your clit in quick motions, exactly like you asked him to. And the pleasure it brings is almost unbearable.

It doesn’t take long for your orgasm to hit you in blinding throbs. It’s not all consuming or so intense you can barely stand. It’s more like a long, but ecstatic drag, making you convulse and moan quietly as Yoongi kisses his way up your body, all the way to your mouth. He lazily kisses you, bringing you back to earth as you reciprocate the kiss, brushing the tip of your fingers against his arm in long and deliberate strokes.

Yoongi parts from your mouth and sighs against your lips. “That was..”

“Fucking unbelievable,” You croak out, soon falling into a fit of giggles.

Yoongi quirks a brow at your reaction, mirth swimming in his eyes. “What are you laughing at, uh?”

You cover your mouth with your hand to suppress your giggles. “I don’t know, I’m feeling a ‘lil loopy.”

“That makes two of us,” Yoongi chuckles and twirls around to turn down the heat of the water. And the opportunity is right there in front of your eyes, so tempting that you can’t help but seize it, smacking his perfect ass loud enough for the wet sound to reverberate through the shower.

Yoongi startles, turning around and caging you between his strong arms in a matter of seconds. “No fair.”

“Nu-uh, what’s not fair is you having such a great ass.” You pout petulantly. 

“And you think you don’t?” He drags his hands down the curves of your body, forcefully grabbing your bum to prove his point. “You could sit on my face all day and I’d say thank you.”

You blush profusely and clasp a hand over his mouth. “Oh my god, Yoongi!”

Yoongi throws his head back in laughter before leaving a light spank on your bottom,

“Alright let’s get cleaned up, I’m really not up for being late.”

“Okay! As long as I get to wash your hair,” You grin mischievously.

Yoongi groans. “Absolutely not.”

You fidget in the passenger seat as Yoongi parks on the street close to your workplace, your nerves slowly taking over.

You play with your fingers while Yoongi gathers his things and opens the driver’s door. You take a shaky breath and pick your bag up.

“What’s wrong?” Yoongi halts in his movements.

You snap your gaze up, meeting concerned pools of onyx. “I- I just..” You trail off, carefully thinking over how you feel before voicing it.

Yoongi closes the door and settles against the seat, waiting in silence for you to find the proper words.

“How should we act in there? Obviously you had something with Sam before, I don’t want her to feel hurt by,” You motion between the both of you. “..this.”

Yoongi observes you for a second before sighing.“Obviously she’s not gonna be excited by it, though she did suspect something already.” He pauses.

“Thing is, as much as I don’t want this to hurt her, it’s also not our responsibility to ensure it doesn’t.” He takes your hand in his. “I’m definitely not gonna rub it in her face, I don’t feel the need to. But I also don’t feel the need to hide what we have. I’m tired of living my own life according to other people’s opinions and feelings.”

He looks down to your linked hands.“Ultimately it comes down to what you want. I’ve just told you how I feel about it, do what feels right for you and I’ll respect that.”

You look at him in shock, not having expected such an elaborate answer. 

“Thanks for telling me about how you feel,” You affectionately smile.

Yoongi leans towards you and leaves a soft kiss on your lips, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as he does so.

“Thanks for sharing your concerns with me.” He breathes out.

And that’s a start you think. You both may be a little rough around the edges when it comes to sharing your thoughts and feelings, but that only means there’s place for improvement. 

You want to better yourself.

You both get out of the car and walk hand in hand towards the bar’s entrance, immediately waving at Namjoon as you come closer. 

His eyes widen when he notices your linked hands.“I guess we missed a lot last night.”

You nod bashfully while Yoongi taps the younger man’s shoulder in greetings. 

“Guess you did. Tell me later about you and Kook-ah, yeah?” Yoongi asks,  stepping through the door and tugging you forward.

“Hey I wanna know too!” You half-shout as you make your way up the stairs, your grip on Yoongi’s loosening for a moment before you notice and adjust it, earning you a cocky lift of brow from the blond barman.

He stops and bends down just before you reach the top of the stairs, whispering against the shell of your ear,

“Do what feels right and I'll respect it.”

You nod decisively and strengthen your grip on his hand, deciding then and there that you too, wouldn’t let people’s opinions dictate how you act. 

Yoongi shoots you a warm gummy smile that positively melts your heart before stepping up the stairs and towards the bar area. You follow him, a newfound confidence blooming in your chest.

Jimin and Jungkook are already there, hunched over the bar and chatting animatedly. 

Jimin is the first one to notice you both, his speech faltering when you greet them,

“Working hard I see.”

“What the fuck,” Jimin mutters, a bewildered look in his eyes.

Jungkook frowns and looks up, his eyes widening as soon as he does. “When did that happen?”

You feel heat lodging itself onto your cheeks and send Yoongi a panicked look. The latter nods and squeezes your hand before replying to the young man,

“None of your business, we open in thirty, chop chop.” He says, seemingly unfazed by your friend’s puzzled looks.

“You’re really, really no fun hyung.” Jungkook pouts.

“It’s my middle name.”

You snicker as you both get ready for work, a smile permanently etched upon your features as the reality of the situation kicks in. 

Yoongi’s got you, and he’s not backing down. 

The night goes by so fast you barely have time to blink before it’s closing time. You sit at the bar and get a bunch of receipts out of your pouch as the wireless terminal prints a very long detailed reading of the transactions completed under your number throughout the whole night.

You’re comparing numbers and making sure everything fits when Jimin slides on the seat next to you, doing the same thing you did a few minutes ago.

“What’s the verdict?” He asks.

You scratch your head. “Almost three thousand.”

Jimin whistles, impressed. “Damn, you got wrecked tonight.”

You laugh quietly. “I really fucking did. What’s yours?”

He looks over his reading. “Two and a half. God damn.”

“Jeez, we never stopped did we.” You chuckle hoarsely, you talked so much throughout the night that your voice is merely a shadow of what it used to be.

“Nope. Good job us.” He offers you his palm and you high five it.

You silently sort through your papers for a while before Jimin breaks the silence,

“So.. are you gonna tell me how you and Yoongi went from barely talking and murdering each other with a simple look to coming in together all lovey dovey and shit?”

You giggle lightly. “We talked like adults, that’s how.”

“Damn, who knew talking could solve so many problems. Not me.” He teases.

You roll your eyes and bump your shoulder against his. “You were right blablabla, happy?”

“Yeah.” He lays his head on your shoulder.

You rake your throat. “Did you end up texting Hobi last night?”

Jimin groans and hides his face in the crook of your neck. “I did, he never replied. I’m such a dumbass. And now he wasn’t even here tonight.” He sighs. “I shouldn’t have texted him.”

“Don’t say that, there might be an explanation.” You ruffle his raven head of hair.

“Yeah, he doesn’t like me.”

“You don’t know that! I’m ready to bet that he actually does.” You soothingly whisper against his hair.

“I’m not. I’m nothing special, look at him. He’s so warm and beautiful, in every sense of the word. He’s smart and funny and talented.”

You put all of your papers in a tall glass before replying,

“And you’re not? ‘Cause I’d use these exact words to describe you, Chim.”

He perks up at your words. “You would?”

You kiss the top of his head. “I really would.”

“Thanks,” He shoots you a wide, toothy smile. 

And you think that anyone would be completely insane to not describe Jimin as an absolute treasure, a beautiful flower glowing and growing under the sun’s warm golden rays.

You’re gathering your things in the employees lounge when Yoongi comes back from the office, a tired look in his eyes. He engulfs you in a tight back hug, letting his forehead rest on your shoulder as he inhales deeply. You shiver and wrap your upper limbs around yourself, holding the man’s forearms in your hands.

“Do you want to come back to my place tonight?” He rasps out.

“I wish but.. I think I’ll go back home today and invite Chim.”

“I’m definitely not jealous that Jimin will be sleeping in your bed before I have the chance to.”

You laugh and slap his arm. “He’s had a rough day, I just wanna be there for him.”

He tightens his hold on you, leaving a few open mouthed kisses on the crook of your neck and all the way up to your jawline. You smile contentedly and close your eyes as a sigh escapes your lips.

“I know, I’m not being serious.” He nips at your neck, tearing a shaky gasp from you. 

“Although.. maybe I am a bit serious.”

“Yuck, y’all disgust me.”

Your eyes snap open as you separate from Yoongi and glare at Jimin, who’s sporting a scandalized expression.

“I don’t know, I think they’re kinda cute, in a cavity inducing way,” Jungkook happily chirps in as he puts his winter coat on.

You hide your face beneath your hands. “This is embarrassing.”

Yoongi shrugs, unbothered by all the comments, 

“Says the guy who professed his undying love for Joon in front of us all just last night.”

Jungkook’s cheeks pink up. “You guys backed me into a corner!”

“It needed to be done.” Jimin declares solemnly.

You burst out laughing. “Let’s stop teasing Kookie.”

Jungkook smiles and pulls you into a side hug. “I love you.”

You lovingly pat his hair and pull your coat on.

“Chim you down for a sleepover tonight? We could call Tae up when we wake up and have brunch or something.”

Jimin smiles brightly at you. “Really? Yes, yes I’m so down!”

“Alright, we’re taking my car though.”

You all make your way down the stairs and out the establishment where you wait for Yoongi to lock the place up, shivering as the cold air seeps through your bones.

“Well, Joon’s waiting for me in the car so, have a great night guys!” Jungkook waves as he makes his way towards Namjoon’s car. You all wish him a great night.

Jimin clears his throat and retreats a little farther. “I’ll let you guys um.. do what you gotta do.”

You shift awkwardly from feet to feet, stopping as soon as Yoongi cups your cheeks and plants a long, languid kiss upon your cold lips. “I’ll miss you tonight.” He murmurs against your mouth.

You feel instantly warmed up from the inside out by the implication of his words. He’d miss you, he wishes he could spend the night with you again. He’s not going anywhere, at least not for now. And you can’t squash down the butterflies roaming freely in your stomach, or the spark of hope illuminating your insides, not this time.

“I’ll text you.” You whisper back, throwing your arms around his neck and closing the distance between your lips for another soft kiss.

You part, intertwining your fingers once more before reluctantly letting go and rejoining Jimin on the other side of the street. 

Yoongi waves your way. “You guys have fun.”

And maybe things could go right just this one time, maybe you could manage to make this work.

You’ll sure as hell try your best.

a/n: aren't they so fucking cute?? It would be an absolute shame if something happened.

anywho, see you next time loves!

// to be added to the taglist, click here!

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@perfect-bae @bxcndd @bwormie

@fragmentof-indifference

[gilbirda]

Friendly neighborhood vigilante. Chapter 17

BatmanxDP crossover. JasonxJazz

[Read on AO3] [Read on FF.net]

Based on this post

First chapter || << Previous chapter || Next chapter >>

“So… Can I offer anything? Tea? Orange juice? Tap water?” Jazz chuckled nervously, looking between the vigilantes awkwardly standing in her living room and her boyfriend standing on the other side, close to the door, glaring at them.

Red Robin glanced at her and smiled softly. “You have coffee?”

“I don’t, sorry. Don’t like the taste.”

“Then water is fine.”

Nightwing cleared his throat. “I’m fine with tea.”

“You don’t even like tea.” Jason growled. “Why are you here.”

“We wanted to apologize,” Nightwing lifted his hands, trying to look as harmless as possible. “To you and to Jasmine.”

“Jazz is fine.” She said, setting the kettle to start boiling water.

“Then apologize. And leave.”

“Gee, no need to get so territorial. Thanks,” Red Robin accepted the glass of water from her. “We wanted to explain, too. And maybe ask her a few questions.”

“But if you guys are busy we can come back in a few hours~” Nightwing smiled at Jason. “Or maybe tomorrow?”

“That’s it!”

Jason started marching towards the costumed vigilantes, knife in hand, but was stopped by Jazz as he passed by her. Her grip was like iron, Jason noticed, her muscles not straining at all to keep him from getting out of her grasp.

Was this how strong she really was?

Would she casually do displays of inhuman abilities like this now that he knew?

(He wanted her to, actually. He wanted to see it all.)

“Darling,” her voice was like honey as she took the knife from his hand, “no murdering anyone in my apartment.”

He didn’t answer, not trusting his voice to be normal after hearing the pet name coming from her lips again.

“You guys are the cutest thing ever.”

Both turned to look at the masked vigilante. Jason tried to subtly get out of her hand, but she didn’t budge. Impressive.

“I recommend you guys start talking. It’s kind of late and I have work tomorrow.”

Dick’s smile vanished, reminded why they were there. “We wanted to apologize,” he repeated, “What happened… it shouldn’t have happened.”

“Bruce didn’t have any right to go for you like he did.”

Amazing.

Even when Bruce fucks up so bad that he attracks the attention of potentially the next supervillain, he didn’t have the balls to come himself here to apologize.

Jazz hummed, finally letting him go. “It was bound to happen.”

Tim frowned. “What?”

“When I moved here I knew there was a possibility that Batman came after me, I was prepared for it.” She didn’t look happy, her eyes finding Jason’s for a second. Right. She never planned on dating anyone so probably she would have disappeared if she was found. “I had a plan B in case that happened.”

This was news to Jason. “Would you have run away?”

She nodded at him. “Back to the Infinite Realms until it blew off. And change identities and everything — we knew the bats are very thorough.”

What good it did now.

“And are you?”

“What?” Jazz turned back to face Dick, confused.

“Running away.” The man glanced at Jason, a slight tension in his smile. “Will you run away now?”

Jazz frowned. “I cannot leave now, even if I wanted to. The GIW will come and they will hurt anything that has a signature, even innocent ghosts. And, well, recent development has, uh,” she blushed when she glanced at Jason, and then looked away, “convinced me to stay.”

Dick squealed and picked her up to squeeze her against his chest, happily bouncing in place with Jazz in his arms.

“This is the best thing ever! I mean, not the whole clusterfuck, but aaaaa, I’m so happy you decided to stay!”

“Dick—”

The vigilante continued rambling even if the woman was unresponsive, ignoring Tim’s worried tone. Jazz was completely paralyzed, eyes wide, arms frozen where she touched Nightwing on the shoulders as he bounced her around.

Jason narrowed his eyes. Why was Jazz so… like that? She had interacted with Nightwing before but she had been fine. Maybe a bit annoyed and worried when the whole “break and entering” incident happened, but now—

“Dick, let her go.” Jason finally said, stepping closer.

“Huh?”

He finally looked at the woman’s expression stuck in a shocked visage, eyes wide and mouth tightly pressed together.

“You okay?” He asked when he let her safely on her feet. Jazz snapped back into attention.

“Uh, yeah??” She passed a hand through her hair, nervously laughing. It didn’t take a detective to know something was up. “I’m cool. Totally cool!”

Huh.

Weird.

Jazz said she was very touchy feely and loved hugs, why have this reaction now?

Jason had the fleeting thought that maybe she had a crush on his brother, either in or out of the uniform, the same spark of jealousy burning in his chest with the same intensity her cheeks burned as she sat down at the sofa ignoring everyone present.

He still felt her lips on his, her tongue dancing with his. She had said yes to him. She wanted him.

With a sigh he walked to the sofa and slumped next to her, looping one arm around her shoulders. No, it wasn’t meant to be a possessive gesture. She still looked kind of spooked.

“Everything okay? Is my brother bothering you?”

She jumped at his words.

“I’m fine,” she took a deep breath, steeling herself. Her hands stopped combing her hair. “Is just… ugh,” she rubbed her face, “when I was like, fifteen? Yeah, around that era, I was such a Nightwing fan.” She dipped her head, clearly not wanting to look at the beaming smile in Dick’s face. “And now that I know he’s my gymnastics teacher… I’ve face planted so many times in front of him.”

“Is okay, dear!” Dick was practically sparkling as he danced towards the sofa, picking one of her hands in his. Jazz’s face was red as a tomato. “You are just learning, you’ll get better in no time.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Tim interrupted the moment, picking a kitchen chair to place it in front of the coffee table with an even bigger smile. “You were a Nightwing groupie?”

“I was… very young.”

“Even in the Discowing era?” Jazz whined, closing her eyes with a nod. “Even in the mullet era?”

“Since the Robin era,” she let her head drop. “We all knew, of course. There were whole channels dedicated to analysis of Nightwing’s movements and how it was very obvious he was the first Robin.” She made a gesture with her hand, rolling her eyes. “I thought it was a waste of time to obsess over that, as if we had to prove it again and again to newcomers.”

“Channels?”

“Was I that obvious?”

“So you were in those fanclub forums?” Tim ignored the others to ask.

Jazz looked him in the eye. “I was the club president for two years.”

If Jason had to describe Tim’s smile at that moment, he would say “predatory”. Like a lion that found its prey and was getting ready to pounce. Jason knew that expression. It only meant one thing: blackmail.

“Interesting…” He opened the wrist computer of his suit, typing something on it.

“You won’t find the site, it was taken down for ‘unauthorized Nightwing merchandise’ and ‘unauthorized use of Nightwing’s image without his consent’.” She crossed her arms, lifting her chin in defiance.

Jazz had so much to learn if she thought that meant she was safe from a Bat.

“That’s no problem for me—”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

She stood up so fast Jason didn’t see her move. He almost didn’t catch her fast enough either, but managed to loop his arms around her waist before she lunged at Red Robin, fists ready. He would otherwise pay to see her go nuts on the shortstack, but it didn’t seem like a good idea at the moment.

Jazz stumbled at the unexpected pull and fell on his lap with a soft “oof”.

“What happened to ‘no murdering anyone in my apartment’, darling?” He chuckled at her flushed face when she looked up at him.

“It’s okay if I’m the one doing the murdering.” She grumbled, but there was no real intent in her voice.

He was so tempted to kiss her senseless right then and there, damn his brothers watching the show, but tried to be happy enough with having her warmth on his lap. She didn’t even try to fight her way out of his arms, choosing to stay there and get comfortable on his legs, pouting and crossing her arms.

“I’ve done things I’m not proud of in those forums, Red Robin. If I find out you looked, I will end you myself and not even being my favorite Bat will help you.”

Yeah. He couldn’t resist. He kissed the top of her head, burying his face in her hair. It smelled nice.

“I’m your favorite bat?”

“That’s the only thing you take from that?”

Jason looked up from his redhead heaven. Dick was between looking horrified at the murder threats and smiling at how cute they were being. He rolled his eyes. Whatever, he could love his girlfriend in public if he wanted, he was not a coward.

“You can call me Tim,” Replacement continued talking, but wisely chose to close the wrist computer and give up on poking the bear. “Now, tell me more about me being the favorite.”

“As in Tim Drake?” All anger left her at the piece of information.

“Yeah? I thought you already knew about us.”

“Not everyone,” she shook her head, “I haven’t had time to review my research. I’ve been a bit busy, you know, being threatened.”

Dick sighed, sitting down on the sofa, combing back his hair with his hands.

“We’re sorry. If it helps, we didn’t know B was going to jump like that. He didn’t tell anybody what’s going on and by the time we found out it was too late.”

“And we are sorry to you too, Jason.” The mentioned jumped at the unexpected apology. “If we had found out about Bruce’s plans sooner… Duke and Cass knew even less about what was happening. They feel really bad.”

“The guys at the Diner, right?”

Tim nodded at Jazz. “They wanted to come to apologize as well, but we didn’t know if… Well, we didn’t even know if you were going to still be in Gotham.”

Jason felt her deflate and melt against his chest. The situation wasn’t the best, things were never going to go back to how they were before, and the weight of that knowledge rested on her heart. And his.

He wasn’t going to lie to himself and say everything was Bruce’s fault. If he believed her a little more instead of letting what Bruce was saying get to his head, maybe they would have talked out everything that same afternoon. But he didn’t believe her, he broke that trust, and that would be his cross to bear.

It was still shitty, though.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere for the moment. Apologies accepted.” She was such a nice person. At what moment did he ever consider she could be as bad as her parents? “And I’m going to regret this, but I don’t mind if they come by to visit.”

“Don’t.” Jason whispered softly. “Don’t leave an open invitation.”

“It’s my apartment, though.”

Jason grumbled against her shoulder. “At least get that damn window lock. And curtains.”

She hummed, but didn’t make any promises. Was she messing with him? At this point he was positive she was not putting a window lock out of spite.

“Well,” Dick stood up, slapping his hands against his thighs as he did, “is getting late and the lovebirds need to continue ‘making up’ or whatever the younglings call it these days.”

“Hey.”

“Actually, I agree. I have a long day tomorrow.”

While it was late and it was true that Jazz needed to at least keep a normal sleep schedule, Jason didn’t want to let her go. His arms tensed around her waist, just enough to stop her from moving out of his lap.

She turned to smile at him. Her relaxed expression was a complete opposite of the uncomfortable smiles she offered earlier that day. He didn’t know how warm and true her smiles were until they weren’t, and he decided to keep making her smile like this forever.

“You go as well.”

“Do I have to?” He didn’t pout. He wouldn’t do that with an audience.

“I will be here tomorrow. And the day after that.” It sounded like a promise. Did she guess he needed reassurance?

Maybe she did, because she gently placed her hands on his arms, carefully prying them away from her. Once she was free, she took his hands in hers, interlacing their fingers.

Everything else in the room vanished as he looked into her teal eyes, noticing the subtle variations in color, the green creeping in the borders of her irises.

“Tomorrow.”

He nodded in agreement, not sure what he was agreeing to.

His attention snapped back to the present when he heard Tim make a sound like a strangled duck. Jazz stood up, careful to not upset his still healing leg, and started pushing his brothers to the window. They were sharing some quick parting words, mostly Tim asking her to elaborate on the whole ‘favorite Bat’ thing and Dick trying to fish for compliments of his Discowing outfit.

Jason ignored them all, standing up to glare at the costumed duo until they were outside and Jazz closed the window. He made a mental note to add his own traps since she refused to get a lock.

“So…”

He looked at her, watching her every move, his mind going back to the kiss they shared. They were alone again, the air still buzzing with the underlying tension after the day’s events.

That morning he thought he had lost her forever and now he couldn’t help himself from approaching her to go for another kiss.

She accepted it with another one of her easy smiles.

“You have to go.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah.”

“Do I really?” He leaned in for another kiss, trying to tempt her into a round 2, but she was faster and put a hand on his chest, stopping him.

Jazz arched an eyebrow. “Maybe vigilantes can go for days without sleeping but for sure I am not willing to imitate that behavior.”

“I thought you were superhuman?” He teased.

“Not a super.” She bit her lip, grabbing his arm and dragging him to the front door. She was not using a lot of strength and he humored her.

It was easy to laugh around her. He missed this. He missed feeling so weightless.

Once he was at the door he grabbed her by the waist to pull her closer to his body, eager to feel her presence. He needed to imprint her warmth in his memory until tomorrow, not willing to let her go without taking that with him until he saw her again.

That goodbye kiss was deeper, her lips welcoming him and her tongue hesitant to let him closer to her sharp teeth. Not that he minded getting cut here and there, but they would work on that.

Jason opened his eyes when he heard a noise coming from the window.

Of course the idiots were still there, watching with wide smiles on their stupid faces.

He flipped the bird at them.

***

The next day found the couple cuddling on the sofa watching a movie like they were supposed to before everything went down. It had been Jason’s idea, he texted her while she was still at the hospital; at first a bit hesitant but when she said she was completely in with the idea, he immediately started making suggestions of what to watch.

It wasn’t until Christine tapped on her arm with a knowing smirk that Jazz noticed her lunch break was almost over. She had been texting Jason with a silly smile on her face.

Whatever, she thought as she leaned closer to Jason, relishing on their joined hands and the warmth of his shoulder under her cheek. She almost lost him, lost this, and she was allowed to enjoy the giddiness until the reality of what they would need to face came knocking at her door.

The ripple of the events of that week were starting to happen.

Dylan, her boss, looked at her with a smug smile every time they interacted, making jabs and asking not-that-innocent questions about what Bruce Wayne wanted from her.

Her coworkers whispered behind her back. Christine was her friend at work, but she was a horrible gossip, and by thursday everyone knew that the man came to visit Jazz and picked her up after work. So far nobody dared ask, but speculation ran rampant the longer Jazz refused to say anything.

“What’s wrong?”

Jason paused the movie — some kind of fantasy adventure both had agreed looked interesting.

“Just thinking.”

He hummed, considering her words. “I won’t ask if you don’t want to say,” Jazz winced where he couldn’t see it, “but let me know if I can help with something.”

“Not everything can be punched into submission.”

He chuckled, making her shake as well. “I still haven’t found one problem I couldn’t blow up or punch in the face.”

Jazz’s mind pictured the face of Jason’s adoptive father and had to bite back the comment that she hadn’t seen him punch the man in the face yet. That wasn’t the time or place for that conversation.

“I’m just worried.”

“About?”

What could she say? Everything? They had been in their quiet bubble cuddling and kissing, but sooner or later they’d have to face the music and talk about all the things left unsaid.

What Jason did at night, what she did before coming to Gotham. How long she had in the city. What would happen after.

The GIW.

Vlad.

Batman.

“Stuff.” She chose to make a vague gesture with her free hand. “We need to talk to Batman. Eventually.”

He scoffed but didn’t let go of her hand. “If I could not talk to him ever again I would be happy.”

Jazz bit her tongue again, questions fighting to get out. What happened to them? Did that have anything to do with why Jason became a Crime Lord? Did Batman treat his own son like a criminal too?

She heard a rustle coming from the window, turning her head less than a second before she saw the dark cape pass by. She jumped into action, not caring about moving like a human anymore, quickly approaching the sword display Jason kept in his living room and picking the twin blades — talwar — that looked sharpened.

Jason was already standing by the time she was back between him and the window opening — Batman had come to visit.

“You have a lot of nerve coming here,” her boyfriend growled, his stance tensed. His injuries were mostly healed, but she knew that it still hurt on his left side. “After what you have done.”

Jazz watched Batman— Bruce step into the apartment and close the window behind him, drawing the curtains. He slowly took the cowl off, not making any sudden move.

She didn’t lower the talwar.

“What do you want?” Her voice betrayed nothing, but she didn’t want to bring the animosity just yet.

Bruce hesitated, looking back at the window as if he expected someone to be there. His stance was guarded but defeated. He didn’t come to fight. The whole furry suit could have fooled her.

“I came to apologize.”

Jason scoffed, walking to Jazz and standing closer to the sword display. Just in case.

Batman followed his every move, eyes going to his injured leg. So now he was worried about his son’s health?

“Bruce apologizing? Someone check the weather, pigs may be flying.”

Jazz wanted to roll her eyes at the sarcasm, but let it slide.

“My behavior was… badly timed— ” Understatement, Jazz thought “ — and I acted before getting the whole story first.”

The couple waited. And waited.

That’s it?

She lowered the swords a little. “You really need to work on your communication skills.”

Jason barked a laugh, but she didn’t turn to look at him. Her eyes were fixed on the intense sky blue of the other man’s eyes watching her, analyzing her. She didn’t care if he thought she was dangerous anymore, or if he wanted to kick her from the city — she was here to stay, even if he liked it or not.

“I’m sorry.” Bruce tried again. He looked again at the closed curtains, head almost imperceptibly tilting to the side. Jazz could hear the buzzing of a comms device, but couldn’t identify the words or the voices. “I’m sorry you and your loved ones went through what you went through. We should have been there. I should have been there.”

So he had been listening to her and Jason. The thought wasn’t surprising. At least it would speed up the explanations.

“We dealt with it.” Would things be better if the Justice League had been there to help? She still thought it was a bad idea for the heroes to get tangled in ghost business, but they were so lost in those first years. Some guidance would have been nice. “It’s all in the past.”

Bruce made a face. He didn’t like her answer.

Well, that’s the only one he was going to get. At least until Danny was there.

“I’m sorry for accusing you. And revealing yourself against your will.”

“I was in hiding.”

“I know.” More words coming from the comms. “We need to—”

She cut him off. “You still don’t understand, Batman—”

“Bruce is fine.” He tried to smile, but it was weak. Not reassuring at all.

“Bruce,” Jazz gave the talwar to Jason, who had been quietly watching the exchange, “you may think you are impossible to find, that your technology is the best; but it is not enough. Not when dealing with ghosts. Not when there’s been an ongoing intelligence war between us for years and nobody is above mixing magic with tech.”

This interested him, but he didn’t ask anything about it.

“We have magic users in the League.” He said as if it would take all the problems away.

“Ghost magic is different. For starters, it is in a language no one alive can speak or understand.” A fact Tucker struggled with, but made do with what he could understand. “I can do some basic warding, so if you let me—”

“I didn’t do the research. It was done by—”

“Barbie?” The betrayal was palpable in Jason’s voice. “She’s in on this?”

“She approached me with the information, but it was I, and I alone, who drew the conclusions.” The way he insisted seemed practiced. More voices came from the earpiece. “But if only looking will put her at risk…”

Jazz didn’t know who this “Barbie” was, but even if Bruce was trying to cover for her she was still an innocent tangled with the bullshit that was her life.

She sighed. “Wait here.”

With a hope that they wouldn’t kill each other during the time she ran to her apartment, Jazz quickly searched for some paper and a pen. She drew the sigil she had memorized and bit her thumb with one of her fangs, drawing a few drops of her blood.

Danny’s would be more effective, but the Princess’ should be enough to deter any low level ghost. Just in case.

Jazz repeated the process a few times. It was always better to place them in the doors and thresholds, and she didn’t know how many this Barbie person would need.

Once she was done she fast walked back to Jason’s place, half expecting to find them at each other’s throats. They were not, but the air was more tense than how she left them.

“Absolutely not.”

“Jay—”

“I said no.”

Bat—Bruce turned towards her. “She should know.”

“Know what?”

“Don’t!” Jason rushed to step in between them. “Don’t drag her into your bullshit.”

Jazz carefully stepped around Jason, eyes fixed on the still unmoving figure of Bruce by the window. “Know what?” She repeated.

Again voices were coming from the earpiece. Louder this time.

“Tomorrow night,” Bruce took a fortifying deep breath, “there is a family dinner. We’d be delighted if you and Jason joined us.”

“I told the Golden Boy plenty of times that I won’t be going!” Jazz was taken aback by how incensed Jason got with this topic. She understood by now that his relationship with the Waynes was strained, but enough to warrant this reaction? “She won’t be going, I won’t be going, end of conversation!”

“Maybe she should decide for herself.”

“Oh that’s rich!”

Bruce winced. “What I meant to say is…,” he looked her into her eyes and then away. “We… I mean,” the buzzing from the comms became louder, “I would like to invite you, Jasmine, as an apology for… everything. Just dinner. And we can properly, uh, meet. Outside all of…” He made a vague gesture that encompassed his suit.

Jason was going to step in and continue growling, but she stopped him with a hand on his chest. It was good to know what Jason wanted, but she wasn’t sure that cutting all communication was the way to go. Just look at how things go bad so fast when they keep things from each other — why wouldn’t it be the same for him and his family?

“Do you really not want to go?” She turned to ask her boyfriend. If he said no then she was not going, but she needed to ask.

He narrowed his eyes. “You can’t be seriously considering—”

“I just want to know.”

It was a simple question. Yes or no.

And yet, he hesitated, eyes going back and forth between Bruce and herself. There was a certain longing in his eyes — maybe not towards his adoptive father, but it was there. Jason never outright talked about his family, maybe to not reveal many facts that connected him to the dead son of Bruce Wayne, but Jazz had seen him interact with the others. There was banter there, a sense of belonging.

Whatever happened to drift them apart was between Bruce and Jason. Not the rest of the flock.

“I don’t want you to endure them more than you have to,” he finally said, not really answering her question. “It will be more of an interrogation than a family dinner.”

He was probably right. If all of them were the Gotham heroes, it could end up being an intense situation.

“Alfred’s cooking.” Bruce’s words made Jason flinch a little. “He misses you.”

Okay.

That was not nice, Bruce.

“I’ll go,” this made both jump snap back towards her, “but is not enough of an apology. Or your practiced speech.” She didn’t know what face she was making, but Bruce’s expression was… sad. “You almost cost me everything I have in the Living World and put every death-touched individual in this city in danger.” She didn’t care about mincing words. This wasn’t just about Jason and her, not anymore. “Your meddling has put a target on my back so big and so bright that it has affected every part of my life.”

This made Bruce frown. “What do you mean?”

Jazz took a breath. “You draw a lot of attention, you know? Coming to Arkham in person, asking around about me, only raised suspicion. Dylan is waiting for the pressure to become too much that I resign, and that’s not taking into consideration that he won’t ever approve my changes in Arkham if I stayed.

“On the other side, Gotham has now become a place of interest for the supernatural world. There was a delicate balance, a way things have managed themselves here, and now people will come asking questions and shooting ghosts and I will have to step in and protect them. There is a reason why I was hiding who I am, Bruce.”

“You are an influential individual? In the supernatural world.”

He was fishing for information she wouldn’t provide. For now.

“I am. In a way.” She let him draw his own conclusions. “So the ramifications of what you have done go further than the unpleasant experience.”

“I’m sorry.”

It seemed genuine. She smiled.

“I know you are sorry, but that’s not enough for me.” She shook her head. “We can help each other, though.” She lifted the sigils that pulsed with magic — her magic. “I give you this and we go to the dinner—”

“Hey, I haven’t said—”

“ — and you support me and my cause, publicly. I don’t need your money, just the support.” She added when Bruce lifted an eyebrow. “That will shut up Dylan and make him and his little circle of mobsters wannabes back off for a while.”

“The what?”

“You didn’t know?” She turned towards Jason. “There is a whole operation going on in Arkham. They are not that subtle, but since nobody ever looks at what’s going on at Arkham they don’t have to.”

Jason flinched. Bruce shuffled his feet.

“You guys didn’t know.”

Unbelievable.

“Okay. It’s… well. We can talk about this later. I have a list.” She turned back to Bruce. “Do we have a deal?”

She walked closer to him and extended her hand. Bruce looked at it like it was going to jump and attack him.

(Did this man really raise Jason?)

“You’ll also have our… my protection, while you stay here. Whatever long that stay is.” He still wasn’t moving, his eyes going towards his estranged son watching the exchange from behind Jazz.

She never expected seeing the dark figure of Batman look so small and vulnerable. Bruce was waiting for Jason’s little nod of approval, it didn’t take much to see it. When he got it, he extended his gloved hand.

There was so much going on there, Jazz knew. The communication issues weren't even the main part of the problem.

But she would take this one day at a time. For the moment she was going to shake Bruce’s hand and smile at him in reassurance.

“Deal.”

----

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[luff2]

BOISVERT TKL HCS PT 2!!

As promised here’s part 2 of Boisvert tickle hcs for all the Boisvert tkl community fans (maybe) out there. ENJOY.

COMPLEX 

LER

SUPER TEASY

Finds your spots all the time!!

Thinks his Lee’s laughter are adorable so he doesn’t stop tickling you for a while.

Tickled the shit outta Dogtooth while they were fighting (my au)

Does it a lot even with all of those hands.

Goes for the sides, belly, neck, or ribs.

He wouldn’t pin you down often since he’s somewhat gentle.

Will let you rest for a few minutes like 15-13

And especially laughs along with you!!

LEE

100% on the ticklish spectrum!!!

  Man cannot stand teases either!

  He’s super wiggly when tickled and his arms flail around so be careful not to get hit.

  His laugh is super bubbly and joyful!

His most ticklish spots are his sides, and palms of his hands.

LOVES IT and will never ask you to stop until he falls asleep.

  Doesn’t like getting pinned down much.

Likes to get hugged and tickled at the same time.

He’s also a worm :3

ANGEL

LER

Look at him. Look. LOOK. AT. HIM. 

  You cannot tell me that this fucker hasn’t tickled anyone EVER!?!?

  He looks like a fucking merciless ler.

  Absolute teaser and a master at tickling.

  Definitely has tickled Room once or twice!

  Will say things like “Oh~ is this a good spot?” or “Is the little human scared of being tickled~?” With a cheesy smirk.

  Pokes and prods at first but then starts to go faster until he’ll eventually start going crazy and tickle you all over.

  Goes for your most sensitive spots on your body.

Likes the sound of his lee’s laughter (he finds it entertaining)

(Add on: He also uses his hands to tickle the life outta you :3 )

LEE

Hmmm… possibly on a scale of 90%?.. nah nah… let’s go with 99%!

Screechy and squirmy when being tickled

He blocks himself with his hands or arms.

He’s super sensitive on his ribs and will immediately try pushing you away once you touch them.

Somewhat likes it but at some point he’ll change his mind again and again.

He barley can handle sneak attacks so he’ll have his eye on you while your near him.

Will scream and “cry out” once you get him pinned down.

He’ll beg and plead for mercy but he knows you won’t give a fuck.

A very bubbly and soft laugh.

COVENANT

LER

He looks like he’ll give you mercy??? Maybe??\?\

He’s very gentle and soft with his tickling and won’t do it hard.

Giggles along with you.

Will first cuddle or snuggle close to you in order to attack.

Loves hearing your laugh!

Blows raspberries on your neck a lot of times! (Even though he has no mouth and his head is made of paper)

Thinks your squirming is cute.

Likes to tease and hug you about your sensitivity.

Talks in a childish voice in order to make you more flustered.

LEE:

SUPER TICKLISH

  Isn’t fond of being tickled but still finds it enjoyable.

  He finds it very rare for him to be tickled or even laugh.

  He has super high pitched laugh and it sounds like a tea kettle.

  He usually can sense that a person is about to tickle him.

  Motherfucker will not stay still for a second and will squeal once you lay a finger on him.

  His stomach is the most sensitive, so are his armpits.

  He will run away once he hears a word that’s similar to “tickling” or mishears the word.

Does not like to get pinned down unless he’s in a lee mood.

Holay molaaay… I’m tired. Finally got this done and now my life is complete lol.

(I maybe will do T.O.E and T.B.O.P hcs soon so if u guys have any ideas just ask since ideas r free now!! ;)

Anyways hope this was enough!!! Have a great day!! 

[tetsunabouquet]

Heir To The Lands Chapter 3

Closing In masterpost

It didn't take long for Dru to be pulled into a hug by Emma. Dru hugged her back, inhaling her familiar scent. She had truly missed her and Jules both. It was so strange, not living under the same roof as them anymore. Sometimes she felt like she could never get used to it. "Oh I missed you Dru!" Emma squealed as she hugged her so tight Dru couldn't breathe. Despite it all she was laughing. "I missed you too, where's everyone?" "Jules went to prepare you some tea so that you're ready for a very British weekend." Emma said, her voice light with humor. "Neither Ty or Kit and entourage have arrived yet." "Thank the Angel, I haven't missed out on anything yet." Emma chuckled, and nudged for Dru to follow her. "This place has a very spacious dining room, I wonder if all ancient mansion come with them, but our sweetie does." Emma expressed with very fond look at the walls. She had grown pretty attached to the place. It had really became her baby. Dru smiled at her, happy to see her be so in love with Blackthorn Hall. Emma led her to a beautiful, big room indeed. The large table was made of a shining, warm wood that Dru bet her money on being fancy and expensive. It was also very old looking, and Dru wondered if it was part of the furniture that Emma and Jules had restored instead of getting new ones. The tablecloth was lemon yellow, which gave the table a cheerful look. Dru did think the white trays of biscuits and sliced bread that had already been placed down, paired with the cloth, strangely reminded her of Easter for some reason. "Now, here are two of some of my favorite girls." Jules teased as he entered the room, a tray with teacups and a vintage looking kettle resting on top. Dru smiled brightly at her brother as he placed the tray carefully on top of the table. "You know, you'd make a very sexy waiter." Emma remarked as Dru fake-shuddered. She sat down on one of the soft looking dining chairs, just as the doorbell rang. "I bet those are Kit and co. I'll let them in," Emma said as she left. Jules poured Dru some tea, hoping for the best for this weekend.

Anyone looking outside, could see Jules' hopes were in vain. Ty had made the tiniest miscalculation at the very last second, still distracted with his and Anush' tinkering on the sensors. They definitely were close to perfecting a sensor that had a sensory function for each species, the ultimate sensor. Which is why he had landed in the garden shed of Blackthorn hall. By the time he had made his way out of the gardenshed, he could see Kit and his family approaching from the gate. Worst timing ever. Mina sat on Jem's shoulders, using her position to spy on every little detail and Kit seemed to be in covesation with Tessa. Ty wondered how he could navigate this situation the best way possible, and by the time his mind had gone over all the ideas, Kit had already spotted him. Fuck. Kit's relaxed posture looked a bit strained, but not as strained as Ty felt his own body growing with the tension. Tessa, with a gentle hand on Kit's shoulder, seemed to slowly drag him alongside her to where Ty was standing, Jem not too far behind. Kit gave Ty a strained nod, before he went on ahead to the doorbell. He rang the bell, as Ty stood around awkwardly with the Carstairs-Grey family. It didn't take long for Jules to open, and to see Kit in front of him, and to see Ty's fingers fidget frantically as Mina seemed to want to reach out towards him. "Welcome everyone, to the opening of Blackthorn Hall!" Jules greeted, inviting everyone in so he could wedge himself between Kit and Ty. None of the Blackthorns except for Dru, truly knew what had transpired between Ty and Kit other then they could clearly see there was a fall-out between them. Jules at least wanted to find a way to fix things between them, as Ty had so obviously had gotten attached to Kit and he could imagine Kit didn't wanted to lose their friendship either. He led the group inside, and Tessa especially seemed to eye everything with particular interest, having known the original Blackthorn Hall better then Jem did. Her eyes glided over everything fondly, seeming to sparkle whenever she recognized decorum they had kept from Rupert's time. That made Jules' clearly happy, anyone could see his chest puffing with pride over his new, beautiful home. Mina stared at everything curiously, having already seen Blackthorn Hall as a work in progress. Her little kiddie brain was going over every little detail she saw was changed, and looked at them with childish wonder. Ty also allowed himself to get lost in the new details, almost in an attempt to mask the way he felt from himself even. Kit entertained himself by listening to Tessa and Jules' conversation, until the group came to a halt by the dining room. Both Kit and Ty smiled at the sight of Emma and Dru, who hadn't been able to contain themselves from keeping their hands off of the breakfast. Dru smiled sheepisly with a piece of bread smeared with jam in her mouth. As the group seated themselves onto the table, the opening of Blackthorn Hall had truly commenced. None were aware of the sounds of hooves not too far away from the edge of London, and none of them would be, until it was too late.

[marshmallow-biscuit-blog]

Oc short stats for my main ocs

Full name: Rooty Beera Float Age: 9 (when she meets bros and games events) Species: Sundae Glass (rootbeer float) Gender: Female Sexuality: Pan Race (human counterpart): Irish/African American Height: 4'6 (9-14 probably) 6'0 (15-adult) Likes: Detective Sketch, Mugman, Cuphead, Kettle, Tea, Joe, punching shit, Flower (best friend), little kids, beating up actual bullies, Chalice (sometimes) her biological father (yes she still likes and loves him) Dislikes: Being tall for her age, large bodies of water (as far as aquaphobia), not knowing what's going on, letting people see her cry, admitting she's susceptible to feelings, alcohol, Puff, Chalice (sometimes) Voice Claim: Bridget Fitzimmons --- Full name: Flower Gal Locera Age: 8 (when she meets bros) 10 (events of game) Species: Oleander Gender: Female Sexuality: Demisexual Demiromantic Race (human counterpart): anything white southern US

Height: 3'3 (13) 5'0 (18 onward) Likes: Betty Locera, Cuphead, Mugman, Rooty, Elder Kettle, Tea and Joe, Cagney (sometimes), gardening, pleasing Ma Dislikes: people being jerks, Cuphead/Mugman/Rooty not thinking before doing things, Ma's nagging, Puff (she has some sympathy for Huff), the dark Voice Claim: Faline (I did the sequel because she doesn't talk much as a fawn in the first movie, mainly giggles and squeals lol) --- Full name: Tea Kettler Java Age: 35 (game events) Species: Teacup Gender: Female Sexuality: Willing to learn about herself Race (human counterpart): African American + Native American Height: 4'10 Likes: Her father, Joe, her babies, Bean, Babs (the goat), cooking, baking, being bossy, dancing, singing, Rooty, Flower, Betty, Puff (she's a bad influence to Chalice but she's nice to Chalice and no longer messes with the boys so she lets it slide) Dice, Lucile, Pyra, Jr. Dislikes: People bossing her around, Cinnamon, Devil, Ludwig (She LOATHES him lol), Cinnamon, she also hates Cinnamon, did I mention- Voice claim: Charlotte La Bouff

--- Full name: Joe Java Age: 37 (game events) Species: Mug Gender: Male Sexuality: Bi (bro doesn't realize-) Race (human counterpart): Cowboy. I mean this in the most non-offensive way. Caucasian cowboy from southern California- Height: 5'8 Likes: His mother, Tea, Kettle, his boys and girls, Pyra, Jr., Luci, Rooty, Flower, Betty, Dice, Sketch, building, falling off of shit while building apparently, taste testing Tea's food, telling stupid dad jokes, making things, his building crew (they're like family), good moments he and Cinnamon have together. Dislikes: Devil, Cinnamon (he still loves him ofc), Puff (not in a hate way, just in a that's a bad kid way), dogs (he's scared), Babs (the goat, she annoys him) Voice Claim: John Marston --- Full name: Clarissa Dice Illy Age: 51 (game events) Gender: Female Sexuality: "The hell is a sexuality I do whatever the fuck I want" Race (human counterpart): African American Height: 5'0 Likes: Dice, Luci, Kettle, "The Hairy Flapper", Tea, Joe, Cuphead, Mugman, Chalice, Siphi, meh Flower and Rooty are okay, Dislikes: Phobus, young ladies showing too much (more of a fear things for them rather than against them), over controlling people, being outside her home, not seeing Kingsly for awhile Voice Claim: Beatrice Horseman --- Full name: Cinnamon Java Age: 40 (game events) Gender: Male Sexuality: Um *opens notes and previous conversations* He does what he wants like Clarissa-- he might fluctuate in this sense, who knows. Race (human counterpart): Whatever tf Joe is south western US guy who is white Height: 6'10 Likes: His damn moose he named Bellow because he never shuts up, Scarlet, Nessy, Pyra, Jr, animals, his mom. Despite Tea hating him, he feels the need to make sure Joe's stupidity hasn't killed her yet, so he likes her at least a little. His nephews and nieces. Dislikes: People coming to the mountains unannounced (aka his home/animal sanctuary he lives on. It's rarely poachers and 90% Joe being a dick or his nephews being 'can we feed Bellow?") Terrified of Flower, doesn't understand how she's that nice, afraid she's going to slip one of her leaves into his drink. Voice Claim: Arthur Morgan

[isilmelinde]

Oh my god I fucking love the books! This is first time experiencing this and it makes me want to squeal like a tea kettle and kick my feet!

Also I'm open to trick or treats here! Never done that before either but I'm willing to try!

Happy Halloween everyone! The best day of the year!

[amber-isnt-a-precious-stone]

Sorry but look how fucking cute and tiny my travel iron is that I bought for my internship