#it's like being pulled in five different directions at once

[mamaspidershit]

idk i just find the idea of hydra!mj so comforting for some reason? like, you don’t understand people? same

[baby-yongbok]

One Last Time

Ex-husband!Bang Chan x afab!Reader

✦ Genre: Soon to be exes to lovers [18+ MDNI] ✦ Summary: Petty claims of possession lead to one last night of pleasure.

✦ CW: Choking/ light breath play, pussy spanking [for a second], Unprotected sex [wrap it up party people], Size Kink [for a second], Oral (f rec.), Chan is... aggressive(??), Chan is referred to as Chris, He calls you a bitch once. only once. ✦A/N: Bang Chan made me do it. There's barely any plot in sight. I wrote this in 4 hrs in the middle of the night. Enjoy! + reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡

✧ Masterlist ✧

It’s funny how things change. Day turns to night, hot to cold and love to pure seething hatred. 

Okay, maybe that’s a bit dramatic but you swear that that’s all you can feel swarming in your chest as you sit across from your soon to be ex-husband. 

He made a show of things at the settlement meeting this afternoon. He pushed back on every negotiation you made which has led you to where you are now. Each of you on your side of the bed with a pile of stuff littering the Egyptian cotton sheets that he just has to take with him. 

“There. Are you happy now?” You throw the last item on top of his pile and Chris stares down at the item with that damned smirk that you used to love. “Almost.”

He stands from the mattress, dark eyes on something behind you. He grabs it before you can turn. “I bought you this purse.”

The muffled thud of his hard bottom shoes against the carpet is all that you hear before he turns the black designer bag upside down. The contents clatter against his shoes, items rolling in different directions as you watch with a clenched jaw. 

He’s circling back to his side of the bed as you call upon the might of the gods to keep yourself calm. After being married for five years Chris has learned each and every one of your buttons and how hard he needs to press them just to tick you off. 

You’ve decided not to give him the satisfaction of making a scene. That’ll only feed his ego. Besides, he has buttons of his own, some that you installed yourself.

“Now I’m happy.” He drops the bag into his pile, smiling before you like he’d just gotten away with a million bucks. “Yeah?” 

Two can play that game. “I bought you that suit.” The smirk on blushed lips transfers to your painted ones as you stare over at him with arms crossed over your chest. 

“I’d like it back.” With an innocent bat of your lashes Chris smiles. It’s gone just as fast as it came and it doesn’t reach his eyes. He's pissed. 

“You’re fucking serious?” You hold your hand out to him. “Dead serious.”

Dark eyes are staring into darker ones as he holds your gaze. You’ve gotten used to him challenging you. You’ve gotten used to him being a petty asshole and you’ve learned how to play him at his own game. 

You watch as he pops the button of his suit jacket. Tongue in cheek while his fingers work to free him of the fabric. His eyes stay on yours as he peels the smoky threads from his shoulders. He shimmy’s it down thick arms, pulling at the cuffs until he’s free of it. He’s left in a skimpy t-shirt before you and you take the liberty of letting your eyes wander. 

“Want the pants too?” Chris throws the jacket over into your pile before his hands start to fiddle with the metal of his buckle. “Keep ‘em. They’re the nicest thing you own now.” 

He mumbles something incoherent under his breath, his hand comes up to rake through his hair as his eyes wander the space you used to share. His gaze stops at your vanity, busy eyes study your open jewelry box then look back to you. 

“I gave you those earrings.” He stalks towards the table, snatching the gold studs off of the surface and slipping them into his pocket. “And..” 

The muffled thud of his shoes is all you can hear over the thick tension pulsing around you. It’s all that you can hear over your own enraged heartbeat. “This necklace.” The clasp is snapped from around your neck before you can breathe a protest. You gasp at the sudden pressure of your chain being ripped from you. 

“What the fuck.” That smirk is stolen  back when he slips the jewelry into his pocket. He stands in front of you, barely an inch between you as your chests rise and fall in unison. “You’re fucking ridiculous.”

“Me?” He fakes a pout, blinking over at you. “I didn’t do anything” 

“Whatever, you got your stuff, get out.” You’re hissing at him, heart racing and blood bubbling with the annoyance you’ve been harboring for the length of this insufferable process. “I’m done with you.”

“Not so fast.” he says slowly, his hands finding your waist before you can step around him. You attempt to shrug off his grip and fail. “I bought you that too.” 

His eyes trail from your eyes to your lips. His tongue darts out to lick over his own as he stares. “That lipstick.” His eyes find yours again.

“Fuck off, Chris.” There’s a bite to your tone that makes him smile. He’s always loved a challenge. 

“I bought it.” He pulls you into him by your waist. Your body is flush with his and one of his hands quickly abandon the plush flesh to wrap around your neck. “ I wan’ it back. I think that’s fair.”

It’s dark on dark as he leans in, eyes searching each others frantically as Chris closes the gap and kisses you gently. It barely makes a sound, it’s feather light and quick. 

“You want it back?” You whisper against his lips and he nods. “Then I want the pants.” 

That fucking smirk pulls at his red stained lips and his mouth is on yours in an instant. It’s hot and messy, drowning out the previous softness. You grab at his arms, clawing down the flesh while his fingers dig into your hips. 

He licks into your mouth with a desperate groan as you turn your heads left and right, his tongue explores your mouth as he takes in the taste of you one last time. Your arms wrap around his neck as one of his hands grab at the swell of your ass.

 “Fuck.” He groans against you, stealing another kiss before you catch his bottom lip between your teeth. “Up.” With a firm smack on your ass you jump up and his hands find purchase on the curve of your bottom over your dress. 

You fall into a mess of tugging and moaning. The tension you once felt in your chest melts into pleasure as his hands wander your bareskin. He drops you onto the mattress, pushing the sorted piles out of the way and hovering over you in your ripped dress as you lay sprawled out on the sheets before him. 

“Gonna miss this.” Chris’ mouth is stained cherry red with your lipstick, it’s smeared over your cheeks and it compliments the bruises that he’s sucking into your skin. You bunch his shirt up his back, scratching along the way and leaving your own marks as you please. 

“Shut up, eat my pussy.” You pull him back with a fist full of his hair, he hisses a moan through clenched teeth as his own hand finds it’s way around your throat again. He squeezes this time. It’s just enough to have your eyes flutter shut, just enough to get you right where he wants you. 

“Can’t you be my good girl for one more night? Can’t you stop being a bitch for just a second, baby?” Chris leans down with a tighter squeeze. Your fingers wrap around his wrist, your nails digging into the flesh. “Did you already forget who the fuck I am?”

He loosens his grip giving you the satisfaction of that blissful rush before squeezing again. “Do you see how small you are?” He whispers, placing a kiss by your ear. “Do you feel how strong I am, baby? Don’t you know how this goes?”

A moan is all he gets as he pulls back to admire you. Your pretty mouth is parted with a silent moan as your thighs press together in a desperate attempt at cumming. “I should make you suck my cock.” His knee wedges between your legs and presses hard against your core. 

“I should fuck this pretty throat. I should get you back for being such a fucking brat through all of this.” The hand that was around his wrist scratches up his arm as he lets up again, letting the blood rush and giving you the dizzy feeling he knows you love. “I should -”

Your fingers wrap around his neck before he can finish his thought. Fierce eyes stare up into his as your other hand moves to unbutton his pants. “Just gimme what’s mine.”

Your hand slips into the waistband of his underwear as you pull him closer to you. “Wan’ my cock?” He moans at the soft feeling of your fingers wrapping around the tip. Eye’s fluttering shut as he attempts to take a breath against your grip.

 “‘S mine.” You lean up to his ear. “Isn’t it daddy?”

It was quick when he pinned you against the mattress. Both of your wrists were in his grip before he shifted them both to one hand to free his cock for you. “You’re a fucking tease. You’re so fucking predicatable, you know that?” He’s hissing as he fights with the fabric of his pants and your dress. 

“You want a reaction outta me, huh? Wanna rile me up, sweetheart?” With a shift of hands and a grunt he’s turning the two of you over. You follow him with a gasp, straddling his waist and sitting over his cock with your clothed cunt. “C’mon I’ll let you. Use me, get what you want.”

Your resolve sinks as his cock twitches against your core. Chris is lying beneath you looking like a sin personified and you feel compelled to indulge in his offer. He is still your husband after all. 

Your panties are pushed to the side in an instant. Chris’ wrists are pinned over his head while you grind your cunt over him. Sloppy sounds of you working over his leaking cock swirl in the hot air and Chris watches it all with drooping lids as you work against him. “Put it in, lemme watch it.”

You ignore him, slowing your grind to counter his request. “C’mon, baby, lemme feel you. I can make you feel so good. Let daddy fuck you, c’mon.” He watches you, head reeled back and moans dripping from your lips like drool as you  do as you please. 

“Fuckin’ tease.” He breaks free from your hold, hands wrapping around your waist and guiding the grind of your hips just as your clit catches on the head of his cock. “I asked nicely.” 

His cock catches at your entrance as he controls you. The push of him against your pussy has your mouth open in a silent scream as he bullies his cock into you. “You keep forgetting who I am, hm?” He sits up, landing a firm smack to your ass to match his brutal thrust as you settle in his lap.

“Chris, shit, just fuck me. Fuck me.” Your nails are in his back, drawing lines that could surely draw blood. He hisses at the pain, smiling with a bite of his tongue as he fucks up into you. 

His hips snap into yours, gradually picking up the pace until you’re falling apart against him. Chest to chest, you’re panting into each other. Littering the thick air with profanities as he splits you open on his dick. “Oh my fucking god, Chris. More. More more more, please. C’mon.”

“Take it.” He growls below you, allowing you to push him back against the mattress and ride his cock to your heart's content. “That’s it, take it. It’s yours, all yours.”

Your nails dig into his pecks, leaving marks on the flawless skin and you use him for leverage. The loud smack of skin against skin decorates the air accompanied by your moans.

 “Don’t hold back, baby. Enjoy that fucking ride.” He thrusts up into you, meeting you halfway. “Let loose, just like that.”.

Chris is rambling under you, mumbling under his breath and growling praises when he fucks deep into you. 

“Fuck me, fuck me harder. Wan’ it harder.” It’s dark on dark again. Hooded eyes stare into each other void of rage, the only priority is pleasure. You’re only here to take advantage. 

“Wan’ me harder?” He fucks into you, moaning at the squeeze you give. “Wan’ me deeper?”

With a lift of his hips Chris flips you over. “Be good for me, yeah? One last time, be a good fucking girl and lay on your back for me. Lemme eat this pretty pussy.” He rips your dress down your frame with a grunt. Your panties get the same treatment before he’s falling to his knees before you. 

“Gonna miss you on your knees.” You prop yourself up on your elbows, staring down at him behind a fucked out haze. “Lookin’ so pretty for me with a mouth full of my cunt.”

With a smirk Chris licks a wet stripe from your hole to your clit. He swirls his tongue around the bud, sucking it between red stained lips and flicking it. Your head drops back against the mattress with a loud moan. Your hands comb through and grab at his damp dark locks but he quickly repositions you to hold yourself open for him. 

“Watch me eat it.” He reaches up, brushing your chin with his fingertips. He lays a flat wet lick to your pussy, hooded eyes staring up into yours. “Eyes on me. Eyes on daddy.”

He spreads your cunt with his fingers, holding you open for him while he spits down onto your clit. He collects it all on his tongue, licking it over the nub before spitting it back. Sloppy slurps against a drooling pussy is all that fills the room. “Daddy, please, wanna cum on your cock.”

He pulls back with a pop, spitting back down onto your cunt. He watches it drip down to your hole, following the stream with his fingers to press it into you. 

“You wan’ me deep right?” His middle and pointer fuck you open as he coos. “Want me to spread this tiny cunt on my dick?” You’re moaning. Panting confirmations and whining pathetically into the air. 

“Then hold it.” He kisses your clit, sucking it in then releasing. “Don’t cum.”

“Please.” You moan a plea, unraveling little by little with each suck and flick of your clit. His fingers fuck you open, curling into your soft spot and pushing you further towards the edge that you’re trying to avoid. 

You could just cum. You could just take what he’s giving you instead of following the rules but it’s so good like this. He’s so good like this. You miss him giving you what you want.

“Chris, ‘m gonna cum for you. I can’t. Please jus’ gimme.” He blinks up at you with pussy drunk eyes as his kiss bitten lips move against you despite your begging. “Daddy, please. I wan’ your cock.”

"Don't cum for me yet" he speaks against your cunt before licking a wet kiss up to your clit. 

"I can't, Chris. I can't, I can't, I'm gonna cum." Your eyes are glued to the way he licks up and down your swollen pussy. Taunting you with the skill he's gained over the years. He's pushing your buttons again.  

"Daddy, daddy, daddy, please you have to let me. You’re gonna make me cum. Your mouth, your fucking mouth, please let me cum."

You're babbling, you know you are. You’re slipping through the cracks quickly and you can’t do a thing to stop it. There’s no going back and Chris knows it but he still smacks the inside of your thigh. Warning you to be good for him and let him build you up a bit more before you take his cock again.

"Don't." He kisses your clit. "Cum." He sucks the bud into his mouth and swirls his tongue over it with a moan. He's a madman if he thinks you could survive that. 

"Fuck, 'm cumming. I'm cumming, 'm sorry." You’re shaking, your nails dig into your thighs as you keep yourself open for him.  "Cumming, 'm cumming, I can't stop cumming, I can't stop cumming."

He moans into you as he laps up every drop of arousal that you're giving him. He commits your sweet taste to memory with one final swipe of his tongue before he’s kissing up your stomach. 

His lips trail up the valley of your breasts. He licks over the mound, sucking your nipple into his mouth and swirling it with a hum. Once he’s satisfied he moves to your shoulder, kissing and licking his way over to your collarbone then finally his lips are back on yours.

You’re gasping as you tremble through your orgasm, aftershocks wash over you as you taste yourself on his tongue. Chris smirks, whispering against your lips. "No one else will make you feel this good, baby. No one else will make you cum like this.”

The head of his cock slips through your dripping folds, catching against your clit before he’s pushing in. “This is mine. All mine." He sinks in to the hilt then slowly drags his cock back against your walls. 

“This is what I want.” He straightens up, looking down at your pretty face contorted in pleasure. 

“All of that other shit doesn’t matter.” He moans, holding your thighs back to get a perfect view of you.  “I wanna watch it. Wanna see the way my pussy opens up for me. ‘S mine, isn’t it, baby? Tell me this shit is mine.”

“Yours, it’s yours. Fuck, ‘s fucking yours, please, you’re gonna make me cum.” Chris slows his strokes, grinding deep into you and dipping his hips to hit the soft spot that turns you into putty for him.

You’re drooling at the feeling. Tears threaten to fall from the corners of tired eyes as you watch the way he admires your cunt. The corner of his bottom lip is tugged and held firm between his teeth as he fights back his moans so that he can hear yours clearer.

“Shit, You’re gonna make me cum. Gonna make me fucking cum, make daddy cum.” The precise snap of his hips grows sloppy as the seconds pass. His once slow grind is now erratic. He’s purely seeking pleasure, sinking deeper into the haze with every drag. 

“Fuck, squeeze me. Yeah, just like that, that’s my girl. Pretty fucking girl on my cock.” Each thrust is met with a slap to your clit. You jolt at the contact, back arching off of the mattress. “Cum for me. Cum on my dick.” 

With one more flick of your clit you're trembling beneath him. Your cunt sucks him in and he takes it all with a loud moan. Chris lets your legs fall so that he can hover over you. He holds himself up on his elbows as he kisses you through your climax. You moan into it, shaking with each thrust and twitch of his cock. 

“Shit, that’s good. So good, baby, ‘m gonna cum.” The frantic bucking of his hips against yours comes to a halt as he falls apart. 

Moans tumble forward as he does. His muscles tense and his eyes roll back as he drives himself deep into you, filling you with every drop of himself that he has to offer. Chris collapses on top of you, his weight pinning you in place. 

You pant below him, coming down from your high as aftershocks wash over him. He kisses your neck, breathing heavily into your skin. 

“Now.” He pulls back slightly, gaze catching yours. “Now I’m happy.”

Thank You For Reading! Please Reblog or Comment to let me know how you liked it! It makes my day! 💕

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[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 5 (part two)

(Rafe Cameron x Reader series, 3.8k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

Years later, you’d still wonder if Topper did it all on purpose. 

When you asked him, he’d just wink and say “bet you’d like to know.” 

As your group walked down the dock towards the rental kiosk, Topper pulled out his phone, grinning down at the screen.

“What’s funny?” Carter tried to read over his shoulder.

“Nothing,” he tucked his phone in his pocket quickly, failing to hide the cheeky look in his eyes, zero poker face. “Kelce is coming.”

The guy Carter had haggled with brought your group over to the three jet skis and gave you a demonstration on how to drive them. You weren’t paying very close attention, more focused on the uneven pairing of the five of you and how to ensure you didn’t end up on the same jet ski as Tom. His rudeness this morning was the final nail in the coffin of your crush.

The guy gave Carter three keys, and you met her eyes, knowing she was thinking the same thing. 

Topper looked at Carter hopefully, his big puppy dog eyes watching her with anticipation. You felt for him, the two of you really weren’t all that different. Sure, he’d gotten to hook up with Carter plenty of times, his crush not totally unrequited, but she’d never given him what he really wanted. At the end of the day, you were just two people who were really good at loving people who didn’t love you back. Still, you knew in your heart of hearts that Carter did love him back, even if she wouldn’t admit it. Maybe you would never get your dream, but you could make sure that two people you cared about got theirs, and that might be the only thing that made this all worth it.

You planned it out quick, knowing Carter was seconds from asking you to ride with her so you wouldn’t be with Tom, and also knowing that what she really wanted was an afternoon alone with Topper.

“I told Kelce I’d ride with him,” you blurted out. 

“Did you?” Carter asked skeptically, trying to figure you out.

“Yeah, I think he’s still worried I’m mad at him,” you made up off the top of your head. “Thought I’d throw him a bone.”

Carter watched you the whole time she boarded the back of Topper’s jet ski, telling him to wait up so they didn’t leave you alone. Tom and Sabrina didn’t seem to care about leaving you, speeding off the second they climbed on their jet ski, Sabrina’s over-the-top shrieks echoing through the air.

“That bother you?” Topper asked when he caught you scowling in their direction.

“Actually, I’m thinking they might be made for each other,” you concluded.

“So you’re not, like, into him?” Topper asked hopefully.

“Not anymore. That ship sailed so quick,” you snorted.

“Ah,” he tried to play it cool, “good to know.” 

“Don’t get any fucking ideas,” Carter warned him.

“I didn’t say anything!” He insisted.

“You don’t have to, you have zero poker face,” Carter said. “No Tom does not equal yes Rafe.”

“I’m just saying it’s good to know. Am I not allowed to know things?” 

You rolled your eyes at their bickering, less than surprised they were having this conversation right in front of you.

“Y’know, you guys can just take off, I’ll be fine waiting for Kelce,” you offered, desperate to move this conversation about your love life out to sea and away from you.

“Right, Kelce,” Topper nodded. “Kelce is coming.”

“Why are you being so weird?!” Carter squinted at him.

“I’m not! I just wanna go!” Topper revved the engine of the jet ski.

Carter looked at you one more time, checking that you were okay with this.

“Have fun!” You said to reassure her.

That’s all Topper needed to hear, he hit the throttle and pulled away from the dock as fast as he could. Carter’s laughter filled the air, she grabbed him tight and tucked her chin in the crook of his shoulder as he drove. She was happy, so you were happy. Your whole life, that’s really all it took, and you knew she felt the same way about you.

With that lovely thought, you climbed on the jet ski so you’d be ready to go as soon as Kelce arrived. 

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

Rafe held the keys a little too tight, Kelce struggling to pry them from his hands.

“You gotta take it easy on the clutch, she’s sensitive.”

“I know how to drive, man,” Kelce wriggled the keys from his grip as he climbed into the driver’s seat of Rafe’s truck.

Rafe stalled by the door for a minute, his feet suddenly feeling very heavy. He looked around the marina, scanning for the group. His heart skipped a beat when he found only you, bobbing in the water on your jet ski all alone.

He’d texted Topper a head’s up that he was coming and asked him to let you know. He didn’t want you to think he was in on Topper’s dumbass scheme to get you two together. If he was gonna do this he was gonna do it right, not try to trick you into it.

Now you were waiting for him, looking so gorgeous with your legs on either side of the seat and your hair blowing gently in the wind. 

Usually, he didn’t call girls beautiful, typically opting for hot, or sometimes pretty if he was drunk. But the only word for you right now, and always, was beautiful.

“You gonna let me leave, man?” Kelce asked, gesturing to Rafe’s hands, still clutching the handle of the door.

“Yeah, sorry,” Rafe pulled away, wiping his hand against his board shorts when he realized it was clammy, the sight of you making him nervous in a way he had never been before.

“What’s got you so worried? Are you scared of her or something?” Kelce mocked him.

Rafe was surprised that Kelce had actually caught on to who he was looking at, giving him an annoyed eye roll.

“I’m not scared of her,” he defended himself.

“Don’t even worry about it man, I bet she’s still wrapped around your finger.”

Rafe shot Kelce a steely warning look he’d given him a thousand times.

“I’m just saying, you don’t need to worry,” Kelce explained. “You’re the man.”

Kelce was an idiot, and he spent a good ninety percent of their friendship pissing Rafe off, but he always tried to hype Rafe up. Usually he was annoyed by it, but right now, he actually needed it.

You used to talk about him that way, too. Oh, the money he would pay for you to see him in a good light again. He’d swim across this entire bay just to hear one kind word about him coming from your lips. 

“Nah, I’m really not,” he shook his head slightly, looking back toward you. “But I think with her I could be.”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

The audacity, the fucking nerve of him to come strolling down the dock looking that good. The sun actually broke through the crowds at his arrival, like he’d bribed the gods. He strolled towards you so casually, his grin easy, like he didn’t know he was the most attractive man you’d ever seen in real life. It pissed you off.

“What are you doing here?” You snapped at him when he reached you.

His grin faltered, like he was the one surprised to see you.

“Didn’t Topper tell you I was coming?” He asked.

“No, of course he didn’t,” you said, finally understanding the reason for Topper’s strangeness earlier.

“I asked him to,” Rafe swore. “I didn’t want to make you think I was trying to-”

“I think I’m just gonna go alone,” you cut him off, turning the key in the engine of the jet ski, desperate to put an ocean between you and him before he said another considerate thing that he’d just undo later. “You can rent your own.”

“No can do,” said the owner, arriving to hand Rafe a lifejacket. “This is our last one. You better take your boyfriend with you, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes at the situation and the misogynistic comment. 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you mumbled. 

Rafe felt the correction was unnecessary, but you didn’t seem to be in the mood for constructive feedback at the moment.

“Is it cool if I, uh, can I come with you?” He wasn’t walking back down this dock without trying.

“Fine,” you agreed reluctantly. “But I’m driving.”

“Good with me,” he climbed on quickly before you could change your mind.

With a kick that sent you both lurching forward, the jet ski roared as you tightened your hand on the throttle. Instinctually, Rafe’s hands landed on your side, holding you both in place. You only had a second to feel the pads of his fingers clinging to the soft skin of your waist before he pulled them away.

“Shit, sorry,” he said.

The guy on the dock leaned forward to push the jet ski from the dock, redirecting you out toward the bay.

“No, actually you should hold on,” he instructed. “These babies go fast and it’s a little choppy out there today. Take it real easy out of the marina and then you can kick it up when you’re in open water.”

You could feel Rafe’s hands twitch with hesitancy before they rested on your sides again, so lightly you wondered if he was actually touching you at all.

With a push, you drifted out to sea, slowly picking up speed with the turn of the throttle.

“Do you want me to let go?” He asked, leaning in so you could hear him over the roar of the motor.

Somehow, you thought two completely conflicting thoughts at the exact same time:

Yes, now.

and

No, never.

You settled on, “whatever.”

Rafe started to let go, but the jet ski hit the wake of a nearby boat, and you both nearly flew off the seat. His grip tightened protectively, practically pinning your body down. With his strong hands on you so firmly, it felt like you could hit a tidal wave and he’d still have you in his grasp. You needed more of whatever that was.

Your laughter filled the salty air as you purposefully drove you and Rafe over the choppiest patches of the water, hair whipping behind you into his face, and he didn’t even care. He watched you in the side view mirror on the front of the jet ski, memorizing every inch of your smile like he’d never see it again.

“Jesus, are you trying to kill us?” He teased, yelling over the woosh of the wind.

“It’d be a fun way to go!” You yelled back, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

Rafe’s hands still on your waist, you felt him lean in slightly. Even with two lifejackets between you, the proximity of your bodies was electrifying. You could feel his strong thighs on either side of your hips, closing you in everytime you hit a bump, securing you in place. You wondered if he was doing it on purpose or if it was just his instinct, you didn’t know which was hotter.

The water rushed behind you, a foamy wake marking your path as you continued driving as fast as you could. The others must’ve gone a different way out of the marina, because they were nowhere in sight. The sky was darkening slightly, the shift in weather causing most boats to drive the opposite way, back to the docks. But you just kept going, and Rafe didn’t tell you to turn around, both drunk on the adrenaline of the speed and the feeling of each other’s skin.

After a particularly jostling bump, the engine sputtered slightly.

“Fuck, what was that?” You puzzled, turning the throttle harder but gaining no speed.

“Here, you gotta twist it like this,” Rafe’s arms wrapped around you, his hands covering yours as he guided you to turn the throttle in the exact way you just were.

“That’s exactly what I was doing,” you bickered. “It’s not working.”

“Maybe I should drive?”

“It’s not my driving, something’s wrong with the jet ski,” you argued, swatting his hands away. 

“Can you just let me try?” He argued back.

“No, you’re making it worse!” 

The engine continued to sputter until it cut completely, causing both your bodies to lunge forward as it came to an abrupt halt.

“Rafe what did you do?” You accused him.

“What did I do? You wouldn’t even let me touch it!” He snapped.

You turned the key in the ignition over and over. The jet ski growled a few times but never started back up. Eventually, you gave up with a frustrated huff.

“I think we’re out of gas,” you conceded.

“Well, did you ask the guy if it was filled before you left?” Rafe questioned.

“Oh, so now this is my fault?” You craned your neck to see him, anger in your eyes.

“No, that’s not-”

“I’m so tired of this, Rafe.”

“We’ve only been out here for like a minute.”

“No, not this,” you motioned toward the water, “this,” you motioned between you and him.

“Oh. Me?” He tried and failed to hide his hurt feelings.

“Not you, just, all this back and forth. One second we’re having a good time and the next you’re pulling away or snapping at me. I have fucking whiplash.”

“Are you sure it’s not just from the jet ski?” He attempted a joke, it only half worked.

“How are we gonna get back?” You redirected the conversation before he could see you were smirking.

“A boat will come by,” he said confidently. “We’ll be fine.”

No boats came by in the following minute, or the following five. You sat in tense silence, your previous words still hanging between you. Your head hurt from the wind and trying to figure this man out.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, almost inaudible. “I know I’m…difficult.”

You turned your neck, not quite far enough to see him, but enough to let him know you were listening, that he should go on.

“I don’t know how to act around you,” he admitted. “One second I feel like I’ve fucked it up so bad that there’s not even a point in trying to fix it and the next…”

This time, you do turn, twisting your torso so you could look him intently in the eyes, imploring him to say something right for once, begging him not to let you fall off this cliff alone again.

“…you look at me like that,” he almost whispered. “And then I think fuck it, I’d try forever if you let me.”

For the first time ever, he was with you on the way down, finally jumping together.

“Can I?” He asked, voice low.

“Can you what?” you blinked at him slowly, the moment so surreal you worried it wasn’t happening, that you’d wake up in Carter’s bed, all of this day just one long fever dream.

“Fix things…with you?”

“I don’t know.”

It was the most honest answer you could give him.

“Can I try?” His voice broke slightly when he said it, and you could feel the vulnerability leaking through the cracks.

“Yeah,” you gave in.

“I miss you,” he breathed, and your heart felt heavy with longing and resentment at the same time.

“I don’t think you ever really knew me, Rafe,” you said, turning to face forward again, sad eyes scanning the horizon. “You never paid close enough attention.”

He thought over your words, and you could feel that there was something brewing in his mind, a decision he was making. When he finally spoke again, it wasn’t the words you expected.

“What’s your favorite color?”

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face as you said, “huh?”

“Just tell me,” he smiled back, even though you weren’t looking, you could hear it in his voice.

You answered him, and he followed that question up with another, and another, and they kept rolling off his tongue and you kept answering, until the strangeness of it faded and the two of you were just talking.

For over an hour, you drifted, leaning forward on the handlebars with your back to him as Rafe asked you questions and listened intently to your long, detailed answers. You were hesitant, just at first. No one had ever let you talk this long without interrupting you. No one had ever wanted so badly to hear what you had to say. He nodded along to everything, responding with thoughtful mhms and carefully worded follow up questions.

After a while, you forgot about the surrealness of it all, where you were, who you were with. It was just you and your old friend, sharing your lives with each other. 

I could do this for a long time, you thought, like maybe forever.

Everytime you thought he must be bored by now, he just kept asking, hanging on every word like he was collecting them for some secret project.

“What do you want to do after you graduate?” and “Who’s your closest friend?” and “Are you still into that one band?” and eventually, when he was running low on ideas, “what’s the last movie you saw?”

You laughed. 

“What?” He asked with a timidness that squeezed your heart.

“The last movie I saw was the last movie you saw,” you reminded him.

“Oh, right,” he chuckled, but there was an edge to it.

“It’s a good movie, though,” you leaned back toward him a little, trying to pull him from whatever thoughts were causing his spirit to fall. “My favorite.”

He nodded, “Tom did a nice job putting together that little shindig.”

“I guess so,” you said, not sure how to proceed.

“You know he plays football for U of F?” He said. “Or did I guess, before he graduated.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yeah, he was All American,” he nodded. You’d give all the money you had for one glimpse of what was going on in his head.

“He’s an impressive guy,” he admitted. “I can see why you’d end up in his room.”

“Rafe, oh my god,” you huffed, standing suddenly. Your body rose above him, his eyes tracking every movement. You swung your leg over the seat, flipping around so you were facing him, sitting back down so you could look him in the eyes when you said, “I didn’t sleep in Tom’s room.”

“Oh.”

It was all he could muster up, his throat going dry from both the embarrassment he felt for being wrong and the sudden proximity of your bodies. He willed himself not to let his eyes travel down to the way your lifejacket was pushing your chest together, or the soft skin of your bare thighs, now spread open in front of him as you straddled the seat. He kept his eyes on yours, the most respectful option, though it didn’t help his speechlessness. The uninterrupted contact with your beautiful irises nearly put him over the edge. He almost hoped no boats would come by after all so he could look into your eyes for hours.

“Is that why you got up and left last night?” You questioned, not missing the way his eyes were trained intensely on yours.

“The floor was uncomfortable,” he mumbled.

“The floor,” you nodded, “the floor was uncomfortable. Got it.”

“You're mad at me again,” he surmised.

“When was I ever not mad at you?” 

“I dunno,” he shrugged sarcastically, “somewhere between the movie and your panties hitting the floor.”

You wanted to slap him. And kiss him. He could tell, teasing you with a sideways smirk. You tried to channel the newfound confidence you’d had last night, addicted to the taste of power.

You leaned forward, hands on the leather seat between you, looking up at him with hooded eyes.

“Did you like that?” 

“You know I did.” 

He responded so fast and his voice was so low you couldn’t tell if he was pissed off or turned on. Either way, he wasn’t fucking around anymore.

“Then why didn’t you stay?” 

It felt like that one question held so many questions, and based on the look on his face, you knew he could hear it too. You weren’t just asking about last night, you weren’t just asking why he went to sleep on the couch. You were asking about years of him coming up short, why he’d failed you so many times, why he never, ever seemed to pick you.

“I didn’t know you wanted me to.”

As he said it, the wind kicked up, and the jet ski began to rock even harder as waves rose and fell beneath you. One particularly choppy wave had you tilting a little too far off the seat, and Rafe’s hands landed on your waist again. This time, there was nothing hesitant about it. When you didn’t push him away, his thumb brushed an experimental circle into your skin.

“Do you want me to let go?”

In lieu of answering, your hands came to rest over his. He assumed you were gonna pull them off of you, and for a moment you thought you might too, but then his words echoed in your mind: he didn’t know you wanted him to.

You could do this. You could lean into it and just let it happen. You were supposed to fight it, make him grovel more, make him pay you back for the years you’d waited. It’s what everyone expected. You were only a few hundred yards off shore, but the rest of the world felt lightyears away, and out here, there was nothing stopping you letting him touch you, kiss you, have you. You could just let it happen, and no one would have to know.

But before you could decide if you wanted to, a deep rumble of thunder broke out across the sky.

“Shit,” you jumped. 

“We gotta get out of here,” Rafe looked up at the darkening sky nervously.

“But how?” 

“How well can you swim?”

That’s how Rafe ended up in the water, gripping the back of the jet ski as the waves rocked it harshly, water splashing up and landing on your feet. You tightened your lifejacket, feeling apprehensive about the whole thing.

“I can just push us if you want to stay on,” Rafe offered.

“No, it’ll go faster if it’s both of us.”

You stepped to the edge, hesitating, wanting to rip the bandaid and just jump in but not wanting to jump too far off and get separated. Your indecision cost you, your foot slipped and you dropped into the water, your leg scraping against the edge of the jet ski as you fell. 

Blinded by pain, you reached for Rafe as your head slipped under the surface, but your hands came up empty.

(Chapter 6: part one)

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a/n: please note, the taglist for this series is currently closed. For updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs 💕

[seresinhangmanjake]

Defending His Lady

Feyd-Rautha x wife!reader

Summary: Both Feyd and your son take issue with the people of Giedi Prime not accepting you as their Lady. Part of the His series

Notes/Warnings: Based on a request. It's a little bit different. Typos, probably.

Words: 1250

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

Years ago, when you imagined your future, it wasn’t this. It wasn’t on this planet. It wasn’t with the husband and child you have. It wasn’t with the title you obtained from your marriage. You imagined light glowing through an open home, frilly gowns, a stuffy Lord, and a daughter who would be treated like a princess. It wasn’t necessarily what you wanted for your future, but it was what was likeliest to be. You’d be a foreign Lady on a new planet, yet respected just as much as their home-grown Lord.

You learned rather quickly that that’s not always how it works. And while you wouldn’t trade the life you have—not your husband, not your son—for anything the universe could offer, you can’t deny the difficulties that come with being the wife and mother of the Harkonnen line of Giedi Prime. 

The people wanted Feyd to marry one of their own, certainly not the concubine their na-Baron once took. They wanted purity. To them, you are tainted blood, and despite your status on this planet, many cannot resist treating you like a parasite. In the five years that have passed, you’ve taken the poor treatment and whispered words with as much grace as you can, knowing Feyd is always there to end the lives of those who step out of bounds, but it’s harder to ignore now that Fionn is no longer a baby.

Your son is growing. His ears catch more than you’d like. He notices how his father reacts to the harsh words directed at you and how he never sees the people who speak them ever again. He’s gathering the pieces that his mother is often disrespected, and that is the last thing you want.

—

“He sees it,” you tell your husband as you slip into your nightgown.

“He doesn’t see it,” Feyd says, pulling back the top layer of covers on the bed and settling under the sheets. When he reaches out his hand, you snuggle into his embrace. His arms are snug around you. His lips press a kiss to your hairline. “You worry too much.”

You hold in your huff of frustration. “I do not. He asked me as I put him to bed if bad people are hurting me and if that’s why Daddy keeps making them disappear.” Feyd pulls back to look down at you, his brow furrowed. You nod. “He sees it.”

Feyd exhales heavily through his nose. As a father, he’s been diligent, so very careful with how he leads his son; a surprisingly delicate guidance—something he didn’t have growing up. What started from Feyd’s fear of your son being too much like him died as the boy showed only love, but Feyd has continued his intricate training. He has trained so that even at the age of four, Fionn is vigilant, particular with his words, and practical in his choices. He trains so that outside factors are not as influential. He trains so the boy can think for himself. And it shouldn’t be a shock that he notices what happens in his own home. 

“It’s time he understands then,” Feyd says.

Your eyes go wide and you let out a light gasp. “Feyd, he’s four.”

“There’s no point in hiding what happens to them if he’s already curious. He’s as stubborn as you are,” he tells you. “And he’s old enough.”

—

“Mommy, where are we going?” Fionn asks, his little hand tugging on yours to get your attention. 

You take a deep breath, sucking in the dank air that leads to prisoner cells. You’re not sure how this is going to go, but you agreed and you need to let it play out. “Daddy wants to show you something.”

Fionn’s head turns to Feyd. “Is it a bad man, Daddy?”

Feyd pauses halfway down the hall and crouches in front of his son. You release Fionn’s hand so he can fully face his father. 

“Yes,” he says. “It’s a bad man.”

“He hurt Mommy?”

“Some of our guards heard him talking about your mother. He said rude things, called her names. He wished for harm to come to her.”

Fionn makes a soft noise of surprise. Name-calling—he considers that one of the worst of crimes, knowing what it got him when he insulted the little Lady of House Kenric. 

“But why?” he asks. 

“It doesn’t matter why,” Feyd says. “What matters is that we protect the ones we love, yes?”

“Yes,” Fionn agrees with a sharp nod.

Feyd looks up at you, silently commanding that you stay here. The last time you entered a cell to face the one who insulted you, more abuse was hurled at you until it tapped into a well of internal shame. It took you three days to shake that off, all the while your husband begging for you to return to your natural state of uncaring. 

You’ve always cared though, to some degree. It doesn’t matter that they like you so much as it matters that you’re not a stain on Feyd’s reputation. After all, he’s the Baron now, and one day, his son will be. If the people of Giedi Prime cannot forget where you come from, you worry they will never forgive Feyd, and worse, that they will never accept Fionn as their ruler. 

Feyd takes your boy’s hand once again and leads him the rest of the way. They stop at the correct cell and when a guard turns a key, they head inside. 

Inching your way down the hall, you halt just outside of it. Your finger goes to your lips to ensure the guard does not give you away, and with your back to the stone wall, you hear Fionn.

“He did it?”

The man is silent, likely knocked unconscious from Feyd’s earlier visit. You suppose he’ll be awake soon enough. 

“Yes,” Feyd tells him, his voice dropping an octave, “He did.”

“Did he apologize? He should apologize to Mommy.”

Feyd releases a sigh. His son is much more diplomatic than himself. But your husband can’t fairly be bothered. That’s the point of his parenting: to raise a better Baron than both he and his uncle have ever been. 

“Son, we do not let men like this apologize. We do not let them near your mother.”

“Oh.”

“So what do you think we do with them?”

Fionn hums, and it’s so much like his father that it’s as if he has stood on the sidelines of every death your husband has executed. The way Feyd hums as he plays with his victims. A fake hum of consideration, of contemplation. What should I do with them? How should they leave this world? Questions he pretends to ask as if he hasn’t planned their deaths out from the moment he was informed of the crime. And that’s the hum your son gives. He hums like a natural monster in the making. You wouldn’t be surprised if the boy is tapping his finger against his chin as he thinks. 

You feel an ounce of pride. There’s more to him than a kind heart, lovely as that heart is. He will be a fearsome Baron, but one that will show mercy when mercy is fit. However, here, now, mercy is not fit, and his father has made that clear.

“Would you like the first stab?” Feyd asks. “Top of thigh.”

The shing of metal scraping against Feyd’s sheath fills the space. A small blade. Good for Fionn’s hand.

“Which thigh, Daddy?”

Feyd chuckles. “You choose.”

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Eighteen

Eddie looks up, towards the front of the house, “car.”

It’s a good count of five before Steve hears a car pulling up onto the drive, “do you want to get it? Surprise Robin?”

Eddie just shakes his head, suddenly shy. Steve remembers how loudly she had shrieked over the phone, “yeah, that’s fair.”

Steve waits until the bell is rung, and Eddie does come and stand in the hallway, half hidden in the lounge doorway, watching as Steve gets the door. Just as he’s opening it he realizes just how uncharacteristically polite she’s being; normally Robin just barges in.

He gets his answer a second later; it’s not just Robin.

She does cross the threshold first, hugging Steve and then clearly spotting Eddie, Steve grabs her, “do not be loud.”

“Okay, okay,” and she goes in.

Joyce is next, carrying a big pot with a lid, she leans over to kiss Steve’s cheek, Jon and Nancy follow, both equally laden down, Nancy holding what looks like a cobbler in a large dish, with a grocery bag hanging precariously from each wrist, “we didn’t have many left overs, so mom put together a quick dessert, it’s only canned filling, hope that’s okay.”

“That’s...so great of you Nancy, she didn’t need to-”

“Hush, Steve,” and she goes in, Hopper, Will and El bringing up the rear. Everyone has their hands full.

“Okay, lets move along, we need to get all this warmed up,” Joyce says to clear the blockage of Eddie gawkers in the hall. Steve watches as Eddie nods at people, looking on curiously, as they all move past.

“Jon, bring through the kitchen chairs honey!”

Joyce has completely commandeered Steve house, and he’s totally okay with it. Jon and Hopper move the chairs so there’s enough seating around the dining table. They might be elbow to elbow, but Steve wouldn’t really have it any other way.

“We brought what we had honey,” Joyce tells Steve, passing him a bowl with a cucumber, a lettuce and some apples in it, “I didn’t want him to feel left out.”

Steve’s heart melts, “he actually might try a meal.”

Joyce absolutely lights up, and she takes the bowl back, setting it on the kitchen counter, “then lets get him a Christmas dinner. Can you deal with the roast please Hop, I’m bringing the rest out now,” and like a sergeant major directing her troops, Joyce calls on people to fetch and carry as she plates things up, “El honey, take all the cutlery please. Will, jugs of juice, thank you.”

Steve just smiles and watches it happen, “better be a beer in it for me,” Hopper grumbles from behind Steve.

Eddie’s been half watching from doorways, occasionally retreating to the couch and then coming back again, but he seems to be drawn by the smell of all the food. “Come on, come and sit at the table.”

“Table,” Eddie repeats, following as Steve leads him by the hand into the dining room.

Eddie sits, and Steve sits next to him.

“Well, Merry First Ever Christmas,” Joyce says to Eddie, before she’s distracted again, “Will, vegetables please.” Will huffs over his plate of meat and potatoes.

“What do you want baby?” Steve whispers to Eddie while everyone helps themselves.

Eddie shrugs a little helplessly in the face of the spread Joyce has put on. Steve smiles reassuringly, giving his thigh a squeeze before he makes him a plate with a little of everything. While he’s occupied, Steve is vaguely aware of El saying, “I love your hat.”

“Eddidie hat?” Eddie replies, “thank you, El.”

Eddie likes meat. He also still really likes his vegetables; he just likes them hot.

Once everyone’s eating the conversation dies down, Eddie uses a combination of claws and his fork to eat, and Steve doesn’t think he’s doing too badly for his first proper sit down meal, when Joyce asks, “Eddie, do you like the food?”

Eddie nods, “good good. Many good.”

Joyce smiles, “and how are you finding having legs?”

“Good, not different Stee.” Joyce seems to get the drift of what Eddie kind of means. This clearly gives Eddie an idea though, turning to Steve he asks, “Eddidie work? One dollar bill gro-ser-ees.”

“Uhm,” Steve chuckles, “maybe. Need to work on a few things first. Maybe.”

“Eddidie car?” And Eddie mimes turning the steering wheel back and forth.

“Need a license first,” Hopper interjects from the other end of the table.

“License first?”

“A drivers license,” Steve clarifies, or tries too, “so you can drive the car.”

“He’s going to need a birth certificate and all that,” Nancy adds.

Joyce elbows Hopper, “I’m sure Hop could help there.”

“Yeah, like I don’t have enough-” Joyce elbows him again, “yeah, okay. Watch it woman, your elbows are like knives.”

“Eddie,” El starts in, “your birth certificate is important, you can choose where you were born.”

“That’s not actually how it works for the rest of us,” Will whispers to her, smiling.

“I got to choose,” she tells him, “I chose Hawkins.”

“Eddidie born?”

El nods, “where you’re from.”

“The Upside Down,” Eddie announces with some confidence, raising a round of, maybe slightly weirded out, chuckles from around the table.

El shakes her head, “no, where are you from now?”

Eddie nods, grasping that part, “Hawkins Indiana. Pool,” and Eddie points, back through the house at the yard, just to clarify. Steve hides his laughter behind his hand.

“Might want to loose the ‘pool’ part,” Hopper adds, helpfully.

“No no,” Jon suggests, “if you make him like, from another country, it’ll explain the language barrier.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Joyce muses, “where would you suggest?”

“Well, there’s only one obvious place, right? Fin-land.”

Everyone groans, and John gets balled up napkins thrown at him.

“In all seriousness kid, going to need a full name and date of birth,” Hopper tells them.

“Oh! Christmas Eve! That would be a lovely birthday for Eddie,” Joyce tells him, excited.

Hopper hums, “uh hu, what year? And a surname, write it all down for me kid.”

“Obviously Harrington,” Steve says before he can really think about it.

Hoppers eyebrows are in his hairline, “so...brothers?”

Robin nearly chokes on her drink.

“Okay, time for gifts, and then dessert after,” Joyce says as she shoos everyone into the lounge, “the boys can do the dishes later.”

Jon and Hop share a look, and Steve knows instantly it’s a look they’ve shared quite a few times.

Everyone spreads around in the lounge, El putting on the Christmas tree lights with a little frown of concentration.

“Okay, me first,” Joyce says, getting up, and she gives Steve and Eddie a wrapped gift each.

“Joyce, you don’t have to, I didn’t get chance to-”

“Don’t worry about any of that honey,” she waves him away, sipping her drink, “just open them.”

Eddie looks perplexed by the thing he’s been handed, just turning it over and over in his hands, “here, watch,” Steve says, and carefully tears into the paper on his own gift.

Eddie seems to be delighted by this turn of events, and uses his claws to easily tear into the paper.

Matching knitted material unfurls onto both of their laps, Steve unfolding his to find a red and green knitted sweater; clearly home made by Joyce.

Eddie holds his up, “sweater? Gift?”

“Yeah, look,” Steve holds up his own.

They are a little different; while the sleeves of Eddie’s are the same as Steve’s, the middle is a hell of a lot shorter, and it takes a second for Steve to realize why; it would stop it from dragging on the ground.

“Stee Eddidie not different!” Eddie says, all excited, just as Steve looses his battle and starts to cry.

A little less than twenty four hours ago, the deepest parts of Steve were convinced that Eddie was dead in his pool. Before that, days of...of torture, knowing that Eddie could very well be dying in the black water. The sleepless nights. The slow erosion of Steve’s hope, and the guilt that came with it, all seem to hit Steve all at once.

Eddie could have died, and now they’re here, sitting on the couch together, holding matching Christmas sweaters. They got insanely lucky.

Steve’s tears come harder, and a sob escapes him, “sorry,” he chokes out, excusing himself and heading into the kitchen.

“Stee?” Eddie creeps in quietly after him.

“Hey, I’m okay.”

Eddie frowns, following Steve across to where he’s leaning against the counter, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve, “no.”

It does make Steve laugh a little through his tears, and he lets Eddie carefully wipe his face before he licks the moisture off his fingers, “called?”

“Tears. I’m crying. I got upset.”

“Stee ow? Tell Eddidie.”

Steve swallows thickly, but his tears abate in the face of Eddie’s clear concern, “when you were in the pool...I had to wait. Days. And I was...so frightened. Scared. That you were dead.”

“Eddidie not dead.”

“No,” Steve huffs, “I know that now,” and he wraps his arms more firmly around Eddie’s middle, “I missed you.”

“Called missed?”

“I was sad, Steve ow, Eddie wasn’t here. You were gone. In the pool.”

“Eddidie no missed Steve. Sorry. Eddidie…” he taps the side of his head, the bobble wobbling as he cocks his head in thought, “no TV. TV inied. Together now. Many tomorrow.”

“All tomorrow?” Steve asks hopefully.

Eddie nods, his bobble rocking back and forth furiously.

And then he leans forward the scant inches between them, and kisses Steve. It’s slow, gentle. A soft brush of lips before Eddie shifts on a sigh. The gentlest, barely there sucking of Steve’s bottom lip; the softest of scratching claws against the back of his head, Eddie’s hand sliding into his hair.

“Oh!” Eddie pulls apart, but not away. If anything he instinctively holds Steve tighter, “I’m...I’m sorry,” Nancy says, wide eyed from the doorway, before she backs back into the lounge.

Steve sighs, “cats out of the bag now.”

“Cat? Lion. Tiger? Called bag?”

“I’ll explain that one another time, okay?”

When they sit back down on the couch, Steve has a fuck it moment and holds Eddie’s hand. He has to keep letting go so Eddie can open his gifts, but still. It doesn’t take long for Hopper to notice, and then he says, “oh, Harrington,” in the most unhelpful way ever.

Steve looks down at their linked fingers, and it suddenly occurs to him exactly which finger it is that next to the pinky finger. Oh. Oh, well. Eddie doesn’t understand what it means...and it’s not like Steve isn’t all in anyway at this point. Not that they can even get married but...he looks up, happening to make eye contact with Robin, who has the most ‘what the fuck?’ look on her face Steve’s ever seen.

Steve eyes her back, ‘not now.’

He gets some world class shit eye in return.

All of Steve’s gifts are...standard. Fairly thoughtful, but mostly just...standard. The toiletries he likes. Some cleaning stuff for his car. Another, not home made, new sweater.

Eddie on the other hand, makes absolute bank. Notebooks, coloring books, pencils and pens. A nice case to keep all of his stationary in. A four pack of fancy beer from Hopper of all people. Plus books, granted, they’re all kids books, but they’re perfect. Steve figures Eddie isn’t that far off learning to read, he has been nailing the alphabet for a little while now.

One of Eddie’s gifts from Robin is a calendar; it’s full of pictures of month appropriate trees. Steve sees cherry blossoms and ripe apples and snow covered firs as Eddie flicks through, reading the months out loud. “That’s a whole year,” Steve tells him, once Eddie has haltingly read out, ‘December,’ “we can write important things in there.”

Eddie perks up, “Eddidie Birthday?”

“Yeah, you want Christmas Eve?”

Eddie nods, and once Steve finds the right box on the right page, Eddie uses one of his new pens to, very carefully, write his name in the box. “Birthday?”

“How to spell birthday?”

Eddie nods, “letters.”

Steve tells him, one slow letter at a time, as Eddie writes it out, showing everyone proudly once he’s done.

Eddie insists on inspecting every single gift thoroughly, and saying thank you, before tucking it all around himself on the couch, like a little dragon with his tiny hoard.

Steve sighs when Eddie unwraps a VHS of ‘Splash,’ from Jon. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”

“I’m hilarious,” Jon replies, deadpan.

Part twenty

[innerfare]

Ace Relationship Headcanons - Part 2

Summary: A collection of headcanons about being in a relationship with Fire Fist Ace

Genre: Fluff

CW: None // SFW

———

Ace almost started a fight with someone the first time you guys met, and you said, “easy there, tiger.” You’ve been calling him that ever since, and he puffs up his chest when he hears that word, even if it’s in a different context. What he never told you was that the strongest of all beasts on the island he grew up on was a tiger. Thus, you calling him that made him feel like the king of the jungle. 

Speaking of tigers, he has a tiger pelt in his bedroom from a beast he hunted a while back and his chest swells with pride when you compliment it. He also has a collection of animal teeth that he tells you all about, several of them ultimately leading into stories of Luffy and Sabo and his time growing up in the East Blue. 

Is insanely touch starved. In the early stages of your relationship, he offers to teach you things as a way not only to spend time with you but also to initiate skin to skin. He’ll show you how how to throw a spear, how to tie certain knots, even how to sail the Striker, and the entire time, he has his arms around you, his hands guiding yours, his bare chest flush against your back. 

Once your relationship is established and he’s more comfortable initiating skin to skin without an excuse, he basically never stops. 

He loves picking you up and carrying you around. He’ll sweep you off your feet, pull you onto his back, and even bend down to get you on his shoulders (his absolute favorite). So many piggyback rides it's unreal, any excuse to pick you up.

Ace actually has a habit of approaching vulnerable topics while he has you on his back because the close skin to skin contact without the pressure of eye contact makes him feel comfortable enough to do so. Other times, he'll come up behind you and bury his face in your shoulder and mutter whatever it is that's bothering him.

Enjoys roughhousing, though he holds back to an almost comical degree because he lives in constant fear of hurting you. Roughhousing is mostly just you straddling his lap while your fingers are intertwined and you wrestle with your arms a little bit. 

Compares hand sizes all the time. 

Has a habit of bending you over things but not escalating beyond that. Every time you're standing at the kitchen counter, he magically needs something in your path and bends you over to reach around you. Any excuse to put his hands on you. 

One of his favorite activities to do with you is climb trees. If you’re sailing together, as soon as you make landfall, you two are off to explore the new island, and you almost always end up tangled in a tree together, swinging from the branches like monkeys. He once confided in you he wishes he could go swimming with you, too. Has literally had dreams about the two of you floating on your backs together like otters.  

Wants you sitting in his lap all the time. Wants you swinging in his hammock with him all the time. Wants you wearing the shirts he no longer has any need for, drinking out of his cup, eating the meat he caught and roasted for dinner himself, relying on his log pose for directions- all. the. time. Needs to feel needed. 

Gets offended if you light a candle using a match instead of asking him. Has even pouted because you lit a cannon fuse in the heat of battle without his help. “Ace, you were five ships over and a little busy.” “That’s no excuse.” 

Knows he can get away with things by flashing a cute smile at you. Often tries to use said smile to get out of trouble and serious conversations. 

Not good at apologizing and usually doesn’t initiate the making up process after a fight. It’s not actually that he’s too stubborn to apologize, he just gets triggered when the two of you fight; his fear of you leaving him has him in a vice grip and he puts his walls back up to prepare himself for what he fears is the inevitable. When you initiate the making up process, he’s always shocked, but he doesn’t resist, not even for a second. 

Claims he’s always the big spoon, and he often is, but he also will climb into your arms late at night and fall fast asleep with you cradling him like a baby. Will fiercely deny this ever happens though. He has a reputation to maintain. 

Hates taking baths, but loves taking them with you. His favorite is when you wash his hair. His second favorite is to sit in a large tub back to back with you. His third favorite is when you wash his back, which eventually turns into you washing his chest and abdomen. If he were to make a list of his favorite things to do with you, most of them would be in the bath. 

Falls asleep if you play with his hair. It’s like pressing a button. It’s gotten to the point that he whines if you don’t play with his hair when he’s trying to sleep. 

More than you playing with his hair, he loves playing with yours. He especially loves it when he braids it and you wear it that way for the rest of the day; he’s actually really good at braiding it. Once, he accidentally singed it because Marco startled him. You thought it was funny but Ace didn’t. He apologized profusely and still swears he won’t do it every time he sits down to play with your locks.  

Food is his love language. Sharing your food, buying each other snacks and confections, cooking/preparing meals for each other, peeling each others’ tangerines. His favorite, though, is taking you hunting. He really enjoys teaching you how to track prey and take it down (if you don’t already know). Your way of asking him if he’s okay quickly becomes, “have you eaten?” Beams for the rest of the day if he takes you fishing and you ask him to bait your hook for you. 

Falling in love was rough for him, but he quickly grows accustomed to being in love. Nights without goodnight kisses, mornings without lazy cuddles, candies without you to eat some- he doesn’t do well without you, though he hides it very well. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[moonstruckme]

Would you pls write a tattoo artist Sirius x fem reader where it’s her first time getting a tattoo and she’s really nervous but he’s really hot idk sorry totally fine if not !!💗

Thanks for requesting <3

cw: mention of needle

modern au

tattoo artist!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

A bell rings as you enter the shop, and you cringe internally. It seems as though now you’re committed to being here. 

“Hi,” a blonde woman behind a desk greets you with a polite smile. “Do you have an appointment?” 

“Oh.” You hesitate, your footsteps stalling like you might back right out the door. “Um, no.” 

“That’s alright.” She waves you forward. “We have space for walk-ins today. I’ve got an appointment coming in a few, but go ahead and fill this out,” she slides a sheet of paper in front of you, “and Sirius will be out for you in a minute.” 

You take the pen she offers you with a terse smile, and even your name is hardly legible with the trembling in your fingers. Sirius, you think as you tick boxes while hardly looking at them. That’s a boy’s name. Isn’t it? You’re not sure how you feel about a boy doing your tattoo. You’d always pictured a cool, tatted-up girl with a throaty voice and a calming demeanor to set your nerves at ease. You’re tempted to ask this woman if you can just book an appointment with her for later, but when you look up she’s slipped behind the curtain to the back room. 

A few moments later, a different head pops out instead. 

“Hello,” this new man says, grinning whilst your stomach bottoms out. Fair skin, dark hair tied loosely behind his head, and tattoos from his neck going down as far as you can see before they disappear under the waist of his pants. His grin is sharp and welcoming at once, spreading over his fine features like it’s been well practiced. 

“Hi,” you manage. 

“You about done with that?” 

It takes him dropping his gaze to the paper under your hand before you realize what he’s talking about. 

“Oh.” You give a weak laugh, pushing it toward him. “Yeah.” 

“Beautiful.” He picks it up, looking it over briefly. “Ready to head back?”

You can feel your heartbeat in your mouth. “Mhm.” 

He holds the curtain open for you. You turn yourself a bit sideways to avoid brushing either him or the curtain as you go through, and he makes an amused face. 

“I’m Sirius,” he says, leading you towards the chairs in the back of the room. There’s music playing from a speaker in the corner, something quick and bass-heavy that’s probably meant to pump up more seasoned customers but makes your skin feel twitchy. Sirius gives you an expectant look. You blink in response. “And you are?”

“Oh, sorry.” You tell him your name. The syllables feel new and awkward on your tongue. 

Sirius tosses you another winsome smile. “No worries,” he reassures you, and you wonder if he gets this reaction a lot. If everyone feels this way around him, like having his full attention directed at you is a little intoxicating and a lot overwhelming. “Is this your first tattoo?” 

“Yeah.” You sit in the chair he gestures to. “How’d you know?” 

He chuckles, the sound sharp and bright. “You’re a tad jumpy, love.” You feel heat rush to your face, but then Sirius gives your calf a little pat and it all goes there instead. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you. You usually have problems with needles?” 

“Not really.” You squirm a little, making sure your skirt isn’t riding up your thighs. “I just don’t have any idea how badly it’ll hurt.” 

“Oh, it’s not too bad usually. Do you have an idea of what you want?” 

“Um, yeah.” You get out your phone, showing him the picture you’d found. “Could you maybe do this, like, by my hip?” 

Sirius leans closer to see. “As little as that one?” You nod, and he grins. “Yeah, that’ll be easy! I can do that in five minutes, gorgeous, don’t you worry.” 

“Really?” you ask, hope inflating in your chest. 

“Yeah, let me just…” He turns around to a small desk, drawing a careful sketch before pulling on a pair of disposable gloves. “Alright, where do you want it?”

You pull down the waistband of your skirt, pointing to the bit of skin where your hip turns into your stomach. You hold your breath as he presses the paper to your skin. When he peels it back up, the design stays. 

“Like that?” 

Your reply comes out on an exhale, soft and a bit dizzy. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s perfect.” 

“Brilliant.” Sirius looks down at his work, then back up at you. You can’t decide which makes your stomach hurt worse. “Then I think we’re ready to get started. You alright?” 

You ignore the tingly feeling in your fingertips and force yourself to answer before you can think too hard. “Yeah.” 

Sirius looks like he can tell you’re faking it, but he blazes forward anyway, giving you a reassuring smile. “Great, just lie back for me. Like that, yeah. Cool if I roll the top of your skirt down so it doesn’t get in our way?”

You nod. He’s careful and professional as he takes the waistband of your skirt, folding it over itself until it sits beneath your hips, but still a gloved knuckle brushes up against the skin of your lower abdomen. Your heart hiccups.

“Okay, love, here’s what we’re going to do.” You look up to find Sirius’ eyes already waiting for yours. They’re lighter than you’d thought from a distance, a grayish blue like the ocean during a storm. His one hand is resting on the temporary tattoo, and you wonder if he can feel your heartbeat bumping through your skin. You certainly can. “I’m going to touch the machine to you for just a second so you know how it feels, and then I’ll take it off. Sound good?” 

You nod again, bracing yourself. “Okay.” 

“Alright.” 

The machine buzzes to life, and it’s an effort not to flinch. You press your lips together in case you make a sound. Sirius’ brow pinches concentratedly as he touches the needle to the stencil he’s made on your skin. It’s over before you can process it. 

“How was that?” he asks you.

You look up at him in surprise. “Fine,” you say honestly. It stung, but not nearly as bad as you’d expected, and only for as long as he was touching the needle to you. 

“Beautiful.” Sirius seems as relieved as you are, his grin flashing canines. “In that case, you’re golden. Just sit pretty for me, yeah?”

You feel like he has to be intentionally flustering you now, but you don’t have time to dwell upon it before he sets back to work. The sting really is negligible, especially with Sirius’ fingers pressing into your skin to steady his touch and his elbow resting lightly against your thigh. You feel hot in all sorts of places. 

Those gray-blue eyes flicker up to check on you when he pauses every now and then. “You’re amazing,” he praises. “Doing so well, love.” 

It doesn’t help.

[cupcakeslushie]

hey, a Kendratello Au question:

if Donnie DOES manage to somehow recover from Kendra and realize that he was being manipulated and used by her, will he develop some kind of trauma or PTSD? Or something probably worse than that?

Draxum works in tandem with Leo to watch over Donnie’s health. But Leo let’s Draxum take the lead. They’re more worried about the immediate concerns, like Donnie’s fever, and mental health. His ninpo will grown stronger once those things are addressed. Splinter is pulled in five different directions. Donnie is his main focus, but Raph, April, and Mikey are ignoring their own health and need to be watched closely as well. He’s trusting Draxum in the first few days, and provided support where he’s better suited. They will all be needed at some point. Splinter knows this will be a looooong recovery, and keeps trying to remind the others that they need to rest too.

They weren’t that bothered by the idea, when Kendra pitched it. But seeing how wrecked Donnie became, they started to feel bad. Which is why, when the family saves Donnie, Jeremy and Jason grab all of Donnie’s tech and find Raph to return it. Jeremy even grabbed S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s AI chip and removed all of Kendra mods. Donnie will still have to rebuild him, but he will be just like before.

When Raph brings Donnie his shell, Donnie’s thoughts are “at least I’ll have some protection when I irritate them too much.”

[takumiraine]

Once upon a time chapter 3

3 chapters in as many days? Nobody tell my Ao3 readers. I don’t have siblings, but I hope I captured banter well.

<first> <prev> <next>

Once upon a time two men stopped believing in fairy tales.

Jason walked into the admissions office with Dan’s schedule memorized as well as Bab’s working schedule in the library to debrief both before and after and make sure their own girl genius ate. She was the only one in the family that didn’t treat him differently since the whole dead until he wasn’t thing after all.

“Hi there,” Jason said to the woman working the desk, turning on every ounce of charm, bringing out the smile that historically got him into as many troublesome spots as it got him out of. “I’m Jason Todd-Wayne and I think I’m ready to put down roots and get my degree in Literature. Russian or English, doesn’t matter.”

“Oh!” The woman looked suitably flustered, and he felt suitably stupid as he stood there with that thousand sun smile and his stupid shock of white hair and completely unprotected t shirt and jeans. Yeah he had a couple of knives in his boots but… he felt entirely too exposed. “Let me… make a call and see who can get you settled in.”

An hour and one incredibly flimsy “yeah well I’ve been doing absolutely no learning the last five years just give me the remedials first” lie later, and Jason had a schedule that matched up in a couple places with this Dan person.

He went to go see Babs at her job in the library, stopping at the campus coffee shop to bring her her favorite drink. May as well add some extra bribery to keep her from spilling if Bruce asked.

Jason doubted he would but weirder things have happened.

He walked up to where she was tapping away on one of the computers at the reference desk. He reached over and set the coffee near enough so she could grab it and far enough away that she wouldn’t throw a fit about the possibility of spills.

Jason looked around idly, waiting for her to be done with whatever task she was set to. Once she was done she grabbed the cup. “He’s here.” She said, taking a drink from her coffee.

Jason blinked. “What?”

“Yeah. Once I saw him this morning, without static, I realized why he was familiar.” There was the steady beep-beep-beep as she checked in books. “He practically lives here. Northwestern corner on the desktop.” More beeping and Jason turned his head under the guise of scanning the space as he sipped from his own drink. “Wouldn’t be suspicious except for last night, and knowing his class schedule.”

Jason nods, pushes off the desk and makes a slow circuit under the guise of looking for a book. The kid, under bright daylight, looks like hell. Pale with dark circles under his eyes. Thin. A quick glance at the screen shows him working on math way more complex than the remedial class he - they were taking. He selected a book from the shelf and returned to Babs.

“Kid looks more dead than I am,” Jason muttered, setting his cup down and paging through the book. Not only did the kid not notice when Jason got close but didn’t look over. No sense of danger that one.

He stood, making bland conversation with Babs and skimming through the book. At least until the kid got up. A quick check of the clock showed it was almost time for their first shared class. He walked out first, and pulled out the sheet of paper with his schedule. When the kid passed by Jason stopped him.

“Hey, sorry to bug you,” he wasn’t, “I started a bit late. Any idea where DL 115 is?” Danny startled a bit as he realized he was being spoken to, before nodding.

“Yeah. Headed there now. C’mon. I’m Danny.” The kid gave a smile and Jason was hit with the thought that with some sleep he was probably handsome.

As they walked Danny rambled a mile a minute, giving directions and a mini tour. Everything surface level, but kind nonetheless. He stifled a yawn as they passed the cafe where Jason had gotten the two coffees earlier that morning “and I’ve heard this place has the best coffee anywhere near campus. Haven’t tried it myself so your mileage may vary, but the smells are right.”

Jason normally found this sort of prattle irritating, but he found himself more amazed at the fact that a kid who had a knife in his stomach no more than 12 hours before was moving like nothing happened.

When they got to class Jason took the spot next to Danny. “Thanks for the tour man,” he said, wishing he could drop the Jason Todd-Wayne persona and go back to being just Jason.

“Yeah. Of course. Gotta help where you can.” Point one against being a rogue in the making. “Whats your major?”

“Literature. You?”

“Mechanical Engineering. I’m shit at lit, my high school teacher once accused me of being that dense on purpose.” Jason couldn’t help the snort, and he caught Danny’s lips quirk in a smile.

“Whats an engineer doing in a remedial math class?”

“High school was murder. Spent most of the time ghosting my classes.” He shrugged a bit, arranging the books he brought on the table. “Chronic underachiever.” The last two words were said with the same tone of someone who had heard them more often than anyone bothered to ask the reason behind it. Jason wasn’t quite sure where that point fell.

“Well, we need more engineers here. You grow up in one of the districts?” Small talk was a Wayne staple and even though Jason could appreciate the way they were helping him get information from the kid, it made him want to claw his face off.

“Nah.” A pause and the pit in Jason burned suddenly. “Small town in the Midwest. They need good ones there too. But Gotham was willing to pay me to be here.” He shrugs. “It’s a living I guess.” Jason had to resist the urge to grit his teeth. “You grow up here?”

A breath in. Out. Control. “Yeah. Crime alley until I was adopted by Bruce Wayne.”

Something in Danny’s look changes subtly, and the pit shrieks. Jason clenches a fist under the table, nails biting into his palm. “Doesn’t he fund the Justice League?” Knowledge outside his scope. Either the kid researched or had inside info. One point for rogue. Jason shrugged one shoulder and did his best ‘I just work here’ voice.

“I think so. Managing the money is more my brother’s thing though.” Keeping his voice even is a struggle with the way the pit lashes inside of him. Sweat beads at his hairline even though he’s certain the air conditioning just clicked on from the way the air is suddenly cooler around him.

“I hate those assholes…” he heard Danny mutter as the teacher entered and began the class. Another point towards rogue. So far it was pretty even, but there could still be an explanation.

The teacher began droning on and slowly the pit calmed in him as more math was put in front of them. Jason wished it would act up. Trying to manage it would keep him occupied from the numbers. They always only meant one thing. There was no subtext. No beauty. No romance to it.

God. If anyone knew that the vicious Red Hood was secretly a romantic? Kill him again now. He glanced over at Danny’s notebook when he realized he missed some instructions. The guy’s handwriting was a mess, little notes jotted this way and that with arrows connecting it to something else that Jason recognized from the more complex math that Babs and Tim sometimes got on about.

Danny caught him looking and trying to copy, and rolled his eyes but put dots next to the things he was missing once he looked over at Jason’s mess of notes.

After class, Jason couldn’t help but ask “why are you in this math class? I’m the wrong guy to ask but that sh…stuff,” he corrected, reminding himself who he was supposed to be. Danny raised an eyebrow but let him continue, “seems way more complicated than what we’re learning.”

“I’m a bad tester.” He shrugs. “I’ve had worse lecture experiences.”

Jason had an opening to get to know this guy better. “Any chance you’d be willing to tutor me?”

Danny’s eyes furrowed at him, “I’m sure your dad could hire someone with a math degree, not just some….” He waved his hand “nothing nobody from nowhere.” He finished. Jason considered, or at least pretended to.

“He could, probably a whole fleet of them. But I hate asking him for things. Rich people are just….”

“Pompous assholes?” Danny supplied when Jason seemed to struggle for a nice way to put it. Even Sam had been at first, her parents’ attitudes surrounding money rubbing off on her.

“Yeah. We don’t see eye to eye on a lot of things. But I will pay.”

Danny seemed to consider that for a while, watching him more closely than the exhausted appearance would make anyone expect, something sharp and calculating in his gaze. Finally he seemed to decide and nodded, opening to a page where he had his schedule scribbled out. “I guess. When?”

“As soon as possible, I’ve already missed a couple weeks and I’m totally lost.” Not a complete lie. He could get himself caught up but making the bridge with Danny was more important. “Dinner at the cafe? I’ll buy for the inconvenience and then we can head to the library and get started?” Jason remembered Danny showing the mugger the empty wallet the night before. Either the kid kept his money elsewhere or he was broke.

Those sharp blue eyes landed on him again and narrowed slightly, and Jason got the distinct impression he was trying to weigh Jason’s soul against a feather. Then, again, Danny looks away and shrugs. “I guess. My next class is out at five.” Jason made a point of checking his watch. It was three. He nodded. “Meet you there at quarter after.” Jason nodded his agreement and stood. As Danny started to walk off Jason heard “And don’t think I’ll take it easy on you just because you’re a pretty rich boy.”

Fuck. What had he just gotten himself into?

The class Danny was headed to wasn’t one they shared, so Jason returned to the library. “Any idea what the kid does on the computer while he’s here?” Jason asked quietly, standing next to where Babs was shelving books. She handed him one and he put it back where it belonged, over her head.

“Excuse you, libraries are havens for those who want to be away from the panopticon of spying that is the powers that be.” Babs shot back, handing him another book. She could have reached that one but they both knew the understanding was clear, ‘you stand here to bother me during my normal girl hours, you work.’

‘And I know you’ his look countered. She sighed, wheeled herself and the cart to a different shelf.

“Nothing suspicious. Some conspiracy forums. Spends a lot of time sharing conspiracies with accounts named Technus and Ember, occasionally gets told to ‘go outside and eat something’ by an account called Desiree. Everything seems normal, or as normal as can be from conspiracy nuts.”

“What’s their favorite conspiracy?”

“Ghosts mostly. Though Pariah, Dan, also talks about how the JL is either in the pocket of the government or vice versa. He can’t seem to decide.”

“Any idea why he hates them?”

She hums, finishes with that shelf and moves along, waving cheerfully at some students that come out of a study room and keeps on her way. Jason is amazed that she manages the heavy book cart with her wheelchair. It’s just proof that there’s nothing that Babs can’t do. Jason doesn’t offer to push it. If she wanted his help she’d tell him. Or hand him something.

“Something about only helping when it suits them. Sending the government to put down anyone who needs help that they don’t want to give.”

“Threat assessment?” Jason was willing to bet that there was a reason. Maybe not a good reason, but a reason.

“Minimal so far. If they are working together, this forum seems to be their only point of contact. Ember is in Bludhaven, and although I haven’t been able to get any real id on her, Dick says there hasn’t really been anything abnormal out there. She uses a different computer almost every time and pays in cash. Technus is in Metropolis. Has some pretty nasty firewalls. I could get past them but then he’d probably know. Desiree is in Yale, studying psychology. She’s probably the one I have the most information on. Real name Jasmine McLain. Eldest daughter of two middle class parents, younger sibling died in a hit and run in high school, left town first chance she got and never looked back. Overachiever in high school and got an associates in Psychology while working full time. Doesn’t know much about net security but nothing stands out beyond that.”

Jason shelved a few more books. Wished he still smoked. “Something doesn’t feel right.” He couldn’t put his finger on what.

“Sure it’s not that jacket?” Jason looked down at himself, frowning. He looked pretentious. He looked like an asshole. He looked like Tim or Bruce.

“Now that’s just mean and uncalled for Barbie.” He said her name just loud enough for some stupid barely 18 year old somewhere in the stacks to chirp back ‘Hi Barbie’ almost automatically.

Babs pulled a face, elbowed him in the ribs. “Laugh it up J.J. the Jet Plane.”

In spite of the carefully honed bat instinct that said he was missing something important, Jason smiled.

[lordprettyflackotara]

General Eyeless Jack HeadCannon’s:

general sfw head cannons & nsfw ones under the cut🫣. kinda wanna make an ej abc’s nsfw smut thingy (whatever they call it you guys know)

GENERAL SFW:

-ej is a very reserved individual. the only people you will catch him interacting with besides slenderman is masky (who is constantly wounded & needs stitches) and Jeff (not out of choice)

-ej is the first creep slenderman ever found. he is by far the oldest compared to the others although his physical body stopped growing at age twenty five

-he either lives alone in a cabin in the woods OR stays at the slender mansion we all know and love out of convenience. its either one or the other you pick.

-when living at the mansion, jack loves patching up the proxies. the medical field is his fortitude. the only thing he loves more is patching up actual creeps, whose wounds heal much differently from a regular humans.

-on that note jack 100% spends his spare time studying creeps supernatural properties. (ex:aging consistencies, healing speed, the chemical breakdown of what exactly makes a killer a creep)

-oddly enough has a fondness of toby and keeps an eye out for the kid when he sees him.

-tried to hit on Jane once. almost got a knife stabbed through his hand.

-will claim he’s babysitting ben and sally ‘against his will’ but ben is twenty and sally was already playing with Smile (he just wants to be around them)

-Jeff annoys the actual fuck out of ej, and regardless of whether or not ej would ever admit it, Jeff is his best friend

NSFW UNDER THE CUT:

-marks. hickies. bruises. bite marks. it doesn’t matter. seeing his lover covered in the marks he littered on your soft flesh satisfies him

-contrary to popular belief he wants his lover to cum multiple times before he ever considers getting off. by the time you’re worn out and dazed, he’s finally ready to fuck your brains out

-knows the human body very well. you don’t need to even guide him in the right direction. he’ll open your folds and suck on your clit without hesitation

-ej has three tongues, he prefers to use them one of them ways. the first being two in your cunt, curling at your sensitive g spot. the other flicking at your clit. the second is far more filthy, the demon satisfied using one to play with your clit, one in your pussy, and one in your ass. it satisfies him to be filling your holes.

-he will strictly only cum inside of you. breeding kink to the absolute max. ej is typically a reserved clueless gentleman, but in bed becomes primal. he will cum inside of your cunt unless you try to sway him otherwise. and even then he’ll miss seeing his seed dripping out of your hole

-mating press on top. enjoys nibbling at your earlobe and whispering filth into your ear.

-“You like that? You like my cock that deep inside of you?”

-size kink. this man will go feral over seeing the outline of his cock through your throat/stomach

-“Fuck, look at that. You’re milking my cock. Fuck.”

-absolutely does not fuck with threesomes but if you really really want one the only person he’d be willing to consider is Jeff

-“You like being used by us like a slut, don’t you? Tell Jeff how good my cock feels.”

-adores when you pull on his hair, specifically while he’s eating you out. makes him feral.

-likes picking you up and fucking you against walls <3

[star2fishmeg]

CONGRATULATIONS ON THE MILESTONE!!!

can i get a fluff # 38 with Quinn please?

Thank you for requesting <3 - Happy Halloween🎃

FLUFF #38 "This isn't what it looks like!"

📞 dialling…

It wasn’t supposed to turn out that way. Halloween night was supposed to be some kick-ass night of partying and making memories to look back on, dressed up in embarrassing, funny or even incredible costumes but it just couldn’t turn out that way this year. It was just embarrassing, especially since it was an NHL Halloween party and she was spending a large portion of it draped over a toilet bowl in her bandit costume, retching up all the vodka cranberries Brock had somehow convinced her were a good idea. 

Leant against the sink cabinet in his sheriff’s get-up, Quinn stroked her back soothingly, doing his best every now and then to brush any loose hairs away from her mouth, worry written all over his face. It wounded him, seeing her like that, but as she once said, ‘what goes down, sometimes must come back up.’ It wasn’t how he expected his Halloween to go, especially not his early years of being the captain. 

When y/n took his hands with half-lidded eyes under the low colourful lights and started leading him out of the living room and towards the bathroom, he thought of the best, not-so-romantic but certainly enjoyable scenario a young couple could have at a party. Instead, she’d B-lined for the toilet, and he’d dropped to his knees and hands straight to her hair to keep it out of the way. 

“‘Atta girl, I got you,” he softly reassured, tearing off pieces of toilet paper and handing it to her, “we’re not leaving until you’re empty, even if I have to stick my fingers down your throat.”

She groaned, wiping her mouth and discarding the tissue in the toilet, sitting back on her heels, ripping off another piece of toilet paper, and dabbing it under her eyes to catch the welled tears. Thank God for waterproof mascara. “That was one- maybe two times and it’s not like you haven’t chosen to put your fingers in my mouth before.” 

“Different context though, very different context, pretty girl. Are you feeling better?” He chuckled, moving from his sitting position to a crouch, hands on his knees. 

“Yeah, thank you, again. Please don’t let me out of your sight now, Brock can be a terrible influence when he’s had vodka.” Y/n nodded, standing up and straightening out her outfit, Quinn running his hand through his hair, his shirt slightly untucking itself from constant position changing every five minutes. 

She took a glance in the mirror, screwing her face up at her smeared lipstick and used her finger to make herself look presentable at least. A fond smile spread across his lips, chest meeting her back as his thick arms wound around her waist firmly, nose burying itself into the crook of her neck and his eyelashes fluttered closed, relishing in the peace and quiet he had with her before venturing back out into the wild. Cherishing her floral perfume, the minutes when he could float on cloud nine without someone hooting and hollering in the back at him. Y/n leaned her head against his, letting his body melt like wax into hers and she smiled.

“Love you s’much, you know that, right?” he asked with a deep voice, muffled by her skin and clothes slightly. 

Thumbs rubbing gently over his arms, the hairs and warm skin, she hummed, “I love you too, more than words can describe.” 

For a minute the only sounds were the subdued music from the communal space and the buzz of the light, controlled breathing hot on her neck until he pulled away, placing his cowboy hat back on his head. She fussed around with her hair, attempting to make it less of a mess but messy enough to match her costume, Quinn’s love-sick puppy gaze watching her with adoration in his eyes, chest swelling with warmth. 

It wasn’t supposed to turn out that way, and they’d never live it down. Quinn let y/n slip past before closing the door behind him innocently, only to look up to make direct eye contact with bright blue ones and Prince Charming from Shrek smirking directly at him, eyes occasionally jumping to y/n. They both froze, hearts suddenly hammering in their chests for no reason. At all. But Brock was ruthless when it came to teasing Quinn, watching the sweat shimmer on the captain’s neck and the words slipped out too fast before Quinn could think of a way to play it off honestly.

“It’s not what it looks like!” 

It looked exactly what Brock thought it was; sweating, dishevelled hair, y/n’s missing lipstick, still slightly smeared under her lip, lovestruck eyes, untucked shirt. It was exactly how Quinn imagined his Halloween would go.

Brock’s smirk quirked into a grin like he’d struck gold, and he rubbed his beard, nodding cockily, like he was proud, “Huggy, you dog.”

[kazutora-kurokawa]

Me U & Hennessy: Toman Founders x Fem Reader

♡ NSFW, vibes → smut, drug use (only weed) + hints at a blunt rotation, alcohol, established relationship for each scenario, public sex, bathroom sex, closet sex, unprotected sex + creampie, sex while intoxicated, oral (fem and male receiving), discreet thigh riding, thighjob, fingering, pet names + praise, and biting, this was unfortunately proofread and my eyes are killing me, buckle up because this is a long read ♡

note 1: This includes all of the Toman founders and is kinda different from what I normally write. I loved writing this (Baji’s part especially) and I'm super proud of how this turned out!

note 2: Huge thank you to @i-literally-cant-with-this for planting this idea in my head and offering help. Sarah I love you 😭🩷

note 3: This is the last note I swear and it's probably the most important one too…I HIT 100 FOLLOWERS AND 2500 LIKES 🥳 I love y'all so much 😭

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Playing cards, snacks, and shot glasses littered the living room table of Mitsuya’s apartment. It was the up and coming fashion designer’s turn to host Toman’s weekly get together and you all took advantage of it by having a smoke sesh. Draken pointed the blunt in your direction, you tried to hold your hand up in an attempt to decline but instinctively grabbed it instead. You were stoned out of your mind and kinda tipsy off a couple shots of henny, so it was probably a good idea to pass it to Mitsuya.

Smoke crowded the room, forcing Baji to open the window. “Baji close the window, it's freezing man!” Kazutora whined while curling up on the couch next to you. “I’m tryna air the room out dipshit! Go get a blanket if you’re cold!” “You two argue like a goddamn married couple.” Draken intervened, chuckling with Mitsuya (who was actively coughing his lungs up). This is essentially how every smoke sesh with them went. Baji and Kazutora arguing, Draken and Mitsuya laughing at everything like two schoolgirls, Mikey raiding the kitchen every five minutes, and Pah-Chin being super quiet and just absorbing the chaos going on around him. Me U & Hennessy by DeJ Loaf blasted in the background, filling your head with unholy thoughts and your inebriation only elevated your desire to fuck. And it most certainly didn’t go unnoticed.

Mikey 💠

As Mikey walked back into the living room his eyes landed on you, noticing the way your breathing became heavy. He walked over to the couch and asked if you wanted to go outside for some fresh air, seemingly oblivious to the way your eyes were devouring him. You two slid out the front door of Mitsuya’s apartment, making your way outside and behind the apartment's staircase. Mikey immediately broke the silence before you could say anything. “So what’s bothering you?” “Nothing’s-” “Shut it! I know you better than that, it’s so obvious that you’re soaked right now.”

You couldn’t even argue with him, he was right for once. “You wanna get fucked right? Prove how bad you want it then.” On instinct you got on your knees as Mikey unbuckled his belt and pulled down his pants. He tapped the tip of his dick on your outstretched tongue before slipping the entirety of his length in your mouth. He paused when he felt you gag around him, giving you a moment to adjust to the fullness you felt in your throat. “You look so pretty when you’re choking on my dick ♡” The praise combined with the dirtiness of his words invigorated you, pushing past the slight pain in your throat you started bobbing your head. When you could tell when he was close you started to speed up and pay extra attention to his tip, swirling your tongue around it and leaving kisses on it. “Fuck that’s it, just like that princess~” You quickly slipped him back in your mouth before he came, desperate to feel his hot load go down your throat. He gripped the back of your neck as he came, grunting and praising you all the while. “You better be ready to get fucked when we get home princess, I’m gonna be inbetween your legs all night ♡”

Draken 🐉

After almost laughing himself to death with Mitsuya, Draken noticed the way you shifted on the couch. The way your thighs rubbed together in discomfort. “Hey y/n, you okay? Need me to walk you to the bathroom?” He asked, a playful tone in his voice. “Yeah I actually do.” You got up and followed Draken’s lead into the narrow hallway, stopping at a door that most definitely wasn’t the bathroom. “This isn’t the bathroom.” Draken opened the door to what looked like a supply closet. “Why would I take you to the bathroom if I know that's not what you need right now?” He walked in the closet, beckoning you to follow him. Normally you’d refuse, especially since you were in Mitsuya’s house, but he was just so tempting. You walked into the closet, closing and locking the door behind you.

Before you knew it you two were undressed and he had you bent over with your hands gripping a shelf. His thick cock stretching your tight little pussy with each thrust. If it wasn’t for you biting your lip, your moans would be heard citywide. “So fucking tight, feel so good wrapped around me.” “Faster~” “Oh yea? You want it faster darling? I'll give it to you as fast as you want ♡” Lewd noises filled the closet as Draken pounded into you, hands squeezing your hips tighter and tighter until he finally filled you up. He stayed inside you, not wanting a single drop of his cum to leak out of your cunt. “Let's just stay like this for a while, okay babydoll?”

Baji 🔥

“Baji close the damn windows!” Kazutora yelled at him for the tenth time in a row. “Okay fine, I’ll close the damn windows!” Baji yelled back, annoyed about having to get up again to close the windows he just opened. As he finished closing the windows he turned to Kazutora. “There you happy now?” “Very happy, thank you.” You could hear Baji mumble under his breath as he walked towards the glass door of Mitsuya’s balcony. “I’m gonna go get some air.” He stated, as if anyone other than you were listening. After a few minutes you got up from the couch to join him on the balcony, which probably wasn’t the safest thing considering you just consumed alcohol not that long ago. Baji looked in your direction as you stepped out onto the balcony.

“Hey cutie! Decided to join me?” You nodded in agreement, blushing at the pet name. “Come here pretty girl, lemme hold you.” You walked over to the railing of the balcony, letting him wrap his strong arms around your waist. The cool night air felt so good on your warm skin, but what felt even better was Baji’s hands roaming your body. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice how warm you are?” His hands slid down to undo your pants. “I remember you mentioning how you’ve always wanted to fuck on a balcony.” “Baji…I wasn’t being serious. I was probably drunk when I said it anyway.” He leaned in to whisper in your ear. “Nah, you were dead sober, so I know it wasn’t the henny talking. Lemme fuck those pretty thighs~” He softly bit into your neck as he slid your pants and panties down far enough for him to comfortably slide inbetween your thighs.

“You’re so fucking warm baby, dripping wet too. You been waiting for this haven’t you?” You could only nod in agreement as his girthy cock slid between your thighs, going back and forth across your soaking wet pussy. The tip of his dick brushing up against your clit, sending shivers down your spine. You were so fucked out and he didn't even put it in. You never even considered that the rest of the guys might see you two, or the fact that you were literally outside. But that didn't matter, not when Baji was biting on your neck and shoulder, nibbling on your ear, and telling you how good you felt. “You feel so good, taste good too. Just can't get enough of you.” Baji’s thrusts started to become sloppier, but he quickly composed himself because he knew exactly what he wanted. He slid his hand between your legs, playing with your clit while he slowly rubbed his cock between your slick folds. As you gushed all over his length, he slipped inside you, filling your pussy with his cum and keeping you warmer than a shot of Henny ever could.

Kazutora 🐅

As Baji proceeded to ignore his complaints about the cold air from the windows, Kazutora decided to actually follow his advice and try to find a blanket. “Hey y/n, come with me to find a blanket real quick?” You two made your way through the hallway, checking closets filled with fabrics and sewing equipment. Kazutora stumbled upon the bathroom and decided to go through the cabinet under the sink. “Kazutora I don't think there's any blankets under there.” You giggled while sitting down on the edge of the tub. “Well duh, I know that. I'm just snooping around a little.” After finding nothing of interest he closed the cabinet, turning his attention to you.

He walked over and crouched down in front of you, laying his head on your thighs. He whimpered underneath you as your fingers gently ran through his hair. “Lemme taste you angel~” He mumbled into your thighs. You didn’t even get a chance to respond before he started taking off your pants, desperate to get a taste of you. “Tora slow down, you act like I’m gonna slip through your fingers.” His muffled response reverberated through your body as he buried his face between your legs, leaving kisses on the insides of your thighs. He practically started drooling when he slid your panties off, taking a moment to admire your pretty pussy before grabbing your thighs and pulling you closer. His tongue circled your clit, sliding between your wet folds to gather as much of your juices on his tongue as he could. He didn’t even bother to praise you, he was far too invested in devouring you to pull away. As the heat in your body built up you gripped his hair, grinding your pussy on his face. His grip on your thighs loosened, allowing you to squeeze his head in between them, letting himself become engulfed in your drenched cunt.

Pah-Chin 🔷

The heat growing between your legs started to become unbearable, prompting you to head to the kitchen for some water to cool you off and maybe sober you up a little. As you chugged a bottle of water you felt a pair of strong hands grip your waist, almost making you choke on the water. You looked back only to be greeted by Pah’s face, his head resting on your shoulder. “Jeez Pah, you scared the hell outta me! Do you need something?” “No, but I can tell that you do.” His hand slid from your waist to the waistband of your pants as he placed delicate kisses on your neck. “Really, in the kitchen of all places? The guys might see us!” “It’s fine baby, just trust me.”

He unbuttoned your pants and slid his calloused hand into your underwear, circling your clit with his middle finger. “You’re so fucking wet for me, lemme take care of you.” His thick fingers worked their way inside you, stretching you out. It was so hard to stay quiet as his fingers went in and out, curling into you and hitting every spot you liked. “You close sugar? I'm not stopping til you cream on my fingers ♡” He didn't have to wait long, as the knot in your stomach unraveled and you finished all over his fingers. Not even a full minute later, with his hand still in your pants, he was asking for more. “You think you can gimme another one baby?”

Mitsuya 🪻

As the smoke in the room started to clear, Mitsuya looked over at you. His eyes scanned every inch of your body, mesmerized by you. He didn’t know if it was the weed heightening his senses or if you’ve always looked as attractive as you did now, and he couldn’t care less. He just wanted you, needed to feel your warmth against him. “Hey love, why don’t you come sit on my lap?” The tone in his voice was so sweet and inviting, how could you deny him? You got up from your place on the couch and positioned yourself on his lap, eventually shifting to just sitting on one of his thighs. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close and kissing your shoulder.

He leaned in and whispered in your ear. “I want you to use me to get off ♡” “Taka, not now we-” Mitsuya held his finger against your lips, politely signaling you to shut up. “It’s okay love, I’ll be discreet. Just be as quiet as you can, okay?” You nodded, relaxing in his grip as he slowly rocked your hips back and forth. The music playing from Draken’s bluetooth speaker blared throughout the room, masking the small whimpers you made as Mitsuya put more force on your hips, increasing the friction between his thigh and your clothed cunt. “Go ahead and cum for me pretty baby ♡” You bit your lip to conceal the moan that threatened to spill from your mouth as you came, leaving your panties a soaked mess. “Wanna continue this in my room sweetheart?”

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Taglist

@arlerts-angel , @trevengersprincess , @happy-trenchcoated-impala , @giugiette

[soapssuds]

Imagine taking Katheryne's place for the day in Liyue, and when the traveler comes by for a new commission they are surprised to see you. You, on the other hand, aren't surprised to see them as you expected for them to come by. However, what you didn't expect was to see someone who doesn't belong.

He was clad in expensive looking attire, the contrast of blues and whites matching perfectly with his pale complexion and long silver hair. His eyes were mesmerizing too. They reminded you much of your dear friend Zhongli's eyes despite the major difference in color.

"Oh, y/n, we didn't expect to see you here today! Where's Katheryne?"

"Hello Paimon, Traveler, Katheryne is out for the day and a new commission popped up asking for anyone who was free to take her place. The mora is good, so I decided to take up the job since I don't have anything else to do."

"Oohhh, that makes sense," Paimon answered.

You smiled before directing your attention to their tall friend, "may I ask who this is?"

"This Neuvillette," Paimon introduced with an air of arrogance in her voice, "he's the chief justice of Fontaine! Pretty cool, huh?"

You bowed to Neuvillette, "it's nice to meet you sir."

"No, the pleasure is mine... your name is y/n, correct? The traveler and Paimon talk a lot about you. They were actually saying how they wanted me to meet you at some point."

Before you could say anything, you felt a tug on your sleeve, "miss y/n, your shift is over."

Nodding you turn back to the three before you, "well, as you can tell, since I'm done working for the day, why don't I tag along? That is, if it's alright."

Meeting Neuvillette was definitely interesting. He was both kind and courteous. A true gentleman. Not to mention that you quite like how he spoke to you. His voice was nice, smooth, and definitely easy on the ears. And just as he liked talking about Fontaine, he also liked listening to you.

Most of the time when you hung out with the traveler and Paimon, Paimon was usually the one who dominated the conversation (not that you minded, you weren't much of a talker to begin with), so being the center of attention in a conversation for once definitely made you nervous. Especially when such a handsome and refined man was giving such a attention.

And later you would fail to notice how Paimon and the traveler would give each other a high-five before leaving both you and Neuvillette to talk amongst yourselves. Neuvillette noticed, however, but decided to not say anything.

"You know Miss y/n," Neuvillette started but you gently cut him off, "y/n is fine."

"Y/n," he amended with a smile, "I've actually been quite the fan of yours for some time. And truthfully, it was I who asked the traveler to meet you."

As it turns out, you were actually a performer of sorts. Your voice was something that everyone could admire for hours on end. But at some point you decided to take a break. The life of an adventurer too good to pass up. (You did promise yourself to sing again someday, but for now, you were on a ... vacation of sorts.)

"You- you're a fan of mine?"

"Yes, I always enjoyed your performances when you would grace Fontaine with your voice. And when I heard you had went on break, I honestly thought I wouldn't be able to hear you again."

Your face felt hot all of sudden, it wasn't everyday that such a gorgeous man showered you in such praises. You felt him grab your hand as he stopped walking to look at you.

"Y/n, I-"

"Am i interrupting something?"

You looked to see who it was and immediately broke out into a bright smile, "Mr. Zhongli!"

You gently let go of Neuvillette's hand before walking up to your friend to give him a hug, "I haven't seen you in awhile! Where on Teyvat have you been?"

"Just traveling my dear, nothing to worry about."

As you pulled away to introduce Zhongli to Neuvillette, you didn't notice how the air got thicker and the area more tense than what it was.

Oh, and did I forget to mention that you didn't know that Zhongli is actually the geo Archon? Yeah...

Having two dragons fight over you is quite nice, though.

[thevoidstaredback]

How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have

Tim was waiting for them at the door, sitting one the steps of the Manor's entrance, when they arrived. He grinned an jumped up when he saw the car, not quite running down to meet them. Danny nearly jumped out of the moving car to catch Tim.

"Hey, Danny!"

"Hey, Tim!"

Dick got out of the car after turning it off. He rolled his eyes at the two kids. "Hey, Dick." Tim and Danny snickered at him, ditching a handshake in favor of a high five. "You two have met in person once, why are you so close?"

"Occupational hazard," Danny answered.

"Why? Are you jealous?" Tim teased.

"I am not!" Dick protested, "I'm just curious."

The two didn't believe him for a second. "Yeah, sure."

"I'm not!"

The large oak doors to the Manor opened slowly, not creaking once, pulling the three's attention to the top of the stairs. Just inside of the open left door was an older gentleman in a pressed, three piece suit. "Master Dick," he smiled, "Welcome home."

Dick smiled up at him. "Hey, Alfred. It's good to see you."

"You as well," he stepped to the side, inviting the three inside. Dick walk in first, followed by Tim. Danny took up the rear.

Holding out his hand, Danny said, "You must be Alfred. I'm Danny. It's nice to meet you!"

Alfred closed the door before taking Danny's hand. "Likewise, Master Danny."

"Oh, please, none of that 'master' stuff."

"'Mister' it is, then."

Danny didn't like Bristol, Gotham, New Jersey. It was plastic and fake and reeked of money. The trees and lawns and bushes were all exactly alike, and each property was marked off by wrought iron fences nearly ten feet tall that stretched on forever in every direction.

Wayne Manor, though, had a different feel to it. It still smelled of old money, and the greenery was all perfectly plastic looking, but it felt warm. No. It was almost as cold as the other properties in the area, but there was an underlying warmth to it that was slowly being choked out. Like red dye in a glass of water.

Alfred, Danny decided, was not human. He was perfectly human in every way, but there was something about him that nudged at Danny. His posture was perfect, his clothing pressed and not touched by even a speck of dust. His shoes were shiny, his gloves whiter than snow, and his hair lay perfectly. Danny knew for a fact that Wayne Manor was this man's haunt, even if the man is still of the living. The building was perfectly cared for, and he was sure that Alfred knows where everyone and everything are as long as they're within the Manor property lines.

"Thank you for having me," Danny bowed his head slightly. Alfred's smile grew ever so slightly.

"Please," Alfred nodded, "I must thank you for taking care of Master Dick while I have been unable to.."

"It's not problem, really," he said, "I like helping people."

"Should we be worried about whatever..that is?" Tim whispered to Dick.

"I don't think so?" Dick whispered back.

"You don't sound so sure."

Alfred was the first to move, stepping naturally in front of the group to take the lead. "If you'll follow me to the drawing room, I will bring in refreshments while you all talk."

Dick laughed politely, "Don't be so stiff, Alfie! I'll come help you in the kitchen; leave those two to chat." He winked like he knew something neither Danny or Tim did. They ignored him.

"Very well," Alfred accepted, "I expect Master Tim to show Mister Danny the way."

"Yeah, sure," Tim nodded, "C'mon, Danny, it's this way."

The Manor was large on the outside and inside. The foyer was easily thirty feet tall, a crystal chandelier and white frosted wall scones brightening up the black marble floors and beige walls. A pristine, dark green rug ran up the stairs. On either side of the stairs, imbedded into the walls under the landing, were birch double doors. Dick and Alfred went through the ones on the left, presumably to the kitchen. Tim led Danny through the ones on the right.

The hallway Tim and Danny were no in was only ten feet tall. The floor had become dark oak planks covered by a long, dark red carpet. The walls were the same beige as the foyer, but these were decorated with pictures and paintings of landscapes and cityscapes. Potted plants on small tables and short benches were spaced along the walls. About fifteen feet from the birch doors was a dark wood archway leading into another room.

"This is the drawing room." Tim introduced.

The room followed a similar theme as the hallway. Dark wood floors and beige walls. There was an unlit, red brick fireplace directly opposite the archway, a TV a few inches over the mantel. Bookshelves that were obviously only decoration lined the right wall. A white, circle area rug covered most of the space, accompanied by dark blue and oak furniture, and scratchy white throw pillows. The decorations all matched the hallway, too.

It was all very impersonal.

"What's wrong?" Tim asked after a moment of Danny looking around.

"Nothing," he said, "it all just seems a bit.. manufactured?" He looked at Tim. "Don't take that the wrong way! It's a beautiful building! I'm just- I'm not used to this is all." A lie, but Tim didn't need to know that.

Tim laughed. "It's not my house, so don't worry about it."

Danny's head tilted to the side. "Oh? Then where do you live?"

"Why?" he smirked, "Gonna follow me home if I don't tell you?"

"Maybe." he shrugged back.

The single birch door on the left wall opened, letting Dick and Alfred into the room. They put two trays on the coffee table, one with different snack foods and the other with a few drinks. Alfred was quick to leave the room again.

"Welp," Dick clapped, "I'll leave you two in here to talk. I'm going to-" Danny leveled a glare at him. "-sit here and join your conversation."

Tim stared between the two for a second before laughing again. "Dude! You have to teach me how to do that!"

"Why? Think it'll work on Bruce-man?" That got both Tim and Dick laughing.

"Only one way to find out."

Danny laughed along with them for a few moments before sighing. "I hate to ruin the moment, but I did drag Dick here for a reason." He stepped back a few feet, motioning to Dick.

"Er- Right." Dick cleared his throat. "Tim, I'm sorry for yelling at you when you stopped by Bludhaven."

Tim blinked, giving Danny the impression that he was not used to apologies and the like. Hm. That'll have to change. "It's, um, okay?"

"Great-!"

"No it's not." Danny interrupted, "He yelled at you. You don't have to say it's okay."

"But it is?" Tim reasoned. "I'm used to it."

That's going to change, too.

Part 11 Part 13

[cjlouwho]

The Dinner

This is going to end up being a 4 part series on Meeting the Parents, where each part can be read individually. You can read on ao3, or continue below.

It was a few months after the wedding before Margaret and Phillip could get back to Los Angeles for another visit. They arrived two days before Halloween, wanting to go around the neighborhood trick or treating with Jee. It was the first year she'd really understand the holiday, and they were excited to experience it with her.

On their first night in town, Tommy and Buck were coming over for dinner.

While Tommy had briefly met them at the wedding, it wasn't more than a handshake and a hello before Jee was pulling her grandparents in one direction, and Evan was pulling him in another.

And now Buck was playing with Jee in the living room while Tommy helped plate the rolls.

“How do you feel about officially meeting the Buckley parents, Thomas?” Chimney asked, leaning against the counter.

“I was fine until Evan woke me up with a powerpoint presentation on what to and not to do.”

Maddie, who was fiddling at the table, looked over at Buck. “He's joking, right?”

Buck shook his head. “You can never be too prepared.”

Maddie rolled her eyes before turning to Tommy, a smile on her face. “Don't worry about it, Tommy. They've mellowed a lot over the past few years. Not perfect, obviously, but better.”

“Is that why you've reset the table five times?” Chimney asked, grabbing a bottle of wine from the fridge.

“Hush.” She tilted her head, staring at the centerpiece before moving it slightly to the left. “Seriously, Tommy. You'll be fine.”

There was a knock, and Jee squealed as she jumped up and ran to the door.

Everyone trailed after her, Tommy moving to Buck's side.

After a prolonged hello to Jee, they greeted Maddie and Howie before moving on to Buck.

“Hi Mom, Dad,” he said, a hug for his mom and handshake for his dad. “You remember-”

“Thomas,” Tommy interrupted, holding out his hand to Margaret first. “Nice to see you again, Mr. and Mrs. Buckley.”

Buck but at his lip, trying to prevent himself from bursting into laughter. It was so interesting seeing Tommy like this. He was usually so calm, cool, and collected. His nerves very rarely appeared, so it was like a special treat when they did.

“Oh, come here,” Margaret said, bypassing his hand and wrapping him in a hug.

Tommy returned it, looking at Chimney with wide eyes.

Chimney himself looked surprised too, which felt like a good sign.

Once Margaret was finished, Phillip shook Tommy's hand. “Good to see you too, Thomas.”

They settled in and Tommy took what felt like the first breath since this morning. Maddie grinned at him with two thumbs up, which made him feel even more relaxed.

He'd never been so anxious to meet the parents of someone he was with before. Honestly, he'd only done it a couple of times. Once in high school, when he met the parents of the girl he took to prom. She ended up ditching him for her friends about halfway through the dance, so he never had to see them again.

Then there was Joey's parents. A guy he'd dated on and off after he first came out. They were... not a good match, but he just so happened to be at Joey's house when his mom showed up out of the blue. One awkward brunch later, he and Joey broke up for good a few minutes after she walked out the door.

Maybe that's why he was so nervous. The two times he'd met someone's parents, it ended in a breakup.

He couldn't think like that right now though.

Everything would be fine. He could do this.

*****

Dinner went surprisingly smooth. Most of the attention had been on Jee during dinner, but she got bored before dessert and headed into her bedroom to play.

That's when the questions started coming in.

“So, Thomas, Ev- Buck mentioned you also work for the fire department,” Margaret began, “but at a different station?”

Tommy nodded. “Yes, Ma'am. I'm a pilot at Harbor Station. It's about twenty minutes from the 118... or an hour with the traffic,” he added, getting a laugh from both Buckley parents.

“Dangerous job,” Phillip noted. “Rewarding though, I'm sure.”

“Oh, yes, Sir. Very rewarding.”

“So, you and Buck don't ever really get to see each other at work?” Margaret asked.

“Sometimes. I work ground ops every once in a while and we'll see each other. But when I am in the air, Evan likes to take pictures and send them to me,” he added, smiling over at Buck.

Margaret and Phillip shared a glance. Even out of the corner of Buck's eye, he could see his parents looking at one another. He knew they were silently discussing the fact that Tommy gets away with calling him by his given name. Something he'd steadfastly reminded them not to do.

He waited, heartbeat rising, for them to bring it up.

Instead, Margaret smiled. “So, how'd you two meet?”

"He flew us through a hurricane to rescue Cap and Athena."

"Buck." Maddie eyed him, a silent why would you say that?

He knew how protective his parents were. How they hated to think of him in danger. How saying something like that could cause tension between all of them, especially with Tommy.

Buck simply shrugged. "It's true."

"It's alright," Margaret reassured them. "Phillip and I are learning to come to terms with the fact that the job Buck has is a dangerous one. But life's a risk, right? We- We know you're taking every precaution to be safe."

Tommy reached out and rested his hand on Buck's thigh. "Yes," he agreed. "And technically we didn't fly through the hurricane, we flew through the outskirts of a hurricane."

"And Tommy's overly qualified," Chimney chimed in, for good measure. "That's why I asked him to take us. It's also why I claim to be matchmaker."

"Well, seeing as you're all in one piece," Phillip said, folding his hands on the table. "Why don't you tell us more about this helicopter-matchmaking adventure?"

The conversation continued for a while. It wasn't all focused on Tommy, thankfully. They went around the table swapping stories and sharing anecdotes. They never even batted an eye when Tommy moved his hand to Evan's back, rubbing softly. He did it almost unconsciously, nearly freezing up when he realized it. He had been told that the Buckley's weren't homophobic. But it was one thing to not care with other people, and another to not care with your own kid. However, their reaction, or lack thereof, was the final confirmation that Tommy needed to know everything was okay and they truly didn't mind.

*****

When it was time for Jee to head to bed, she demanded Uncle Tommy fly her to the room like a “helichopter” so, of course, he did. Then she demanded her mommy, daddy, and Uncle Buck read her a story together, so Tommy headed back out to the living room with the Buckley's to sit and chat.

“She calls you Uncle Tommy,” Margaret said, nearly beaming.

Tommy smiled. “Yeah, that started a couple months ago. I think she knows it's a surefire way to get me to say yes to whatever she asks. Evan jokes me about it all the time.”

“Okay, I have to ask-”

“Margaret,” Phillip warned.

She waved him off. “I'm just asking.” She leaned in close, almost like she was about to reveal some deep, dark secret.

Tommy sure hoped that wasn't it. He'd heard all about their last deep, dark secret.

“He lets you call him Evan. How'd you manage that?”

Tommy fought to hide his grin. “That's how he introduced himself when we met,” he explained. “Once I realized no one else ever called him that, I tried calling him Buck, but he gave me a funny look and told me to stick with Evan.”

Tommy knew Evan didn't hate his name. Knew others called him by it sometimes. He also knew that his parents calling him Buck was important to him. A way to show they were finally listening to what he wanted, and they were respecting him.

Tommy almost expected this to be where the trouble came in. Maybe this is where the Buckley's stuck up their nose and asked what made him so special? Evan had warned him about it during the presentation that morning.

They didn't do that though. Instead they looked... happy? Excited even.

“You a basketball fan?” Phillip asked, opting for a change of subject.

“Yes, Sir. Love it.”

“Professional or college?”

“I prefer professional, but I watch both.”

“I've been wanting to go to a game for years, but it's a little boring to go alone. We're coming back in a couple months for another visit. You and I should find a game.”

“I'd love that.” Tommy couldn't seem to agree fast enough. The fact that his boyfriend's dad actually wanted to hang out and spend time with him made him feel like he was in a dream world. “I think the Lakers usually play in Vegas that time of year. I could fly us out for a game,” he offered with a shrug. “I go there pretty regularly.”

“Uh oh,” Margaret joked. “Wrong thing to say. He'll be taking you up on those offers all the time.”

“That's fine with me,” Tommy assured her. “I love to fly. Evan and I go on little trips every time we have a few days off together. He's always finding new places for us to go within a couple hours of here.”

“Tell you what,” Phillip said, tipping his beer toward Tommy, “you fly us there, the tickets are on me.”

“Oh, you don't-”

“No, no. I insist.”

“Just nod and say okay,” Margaret faux-whispered.

Tommy laughed, but nodded. “Okay. Sounds good.”

“Good. Now, if you'll excuse me,” Phillip said, setting his beer on the coffee table before he went to stand. “I need to use the restroom. Be right back.”

Once Phillip had rounded the corner to head down the hall, Margaret scooted closer to Tommy, a smile playing on her face. “You don't go by Thomas, do you?”

Tommy let out a breathy laugh. “No, Ma'am. No, I don't.”

She nodded. “I figured. Tommy, then, right?”

“Yes, Ma'am. Thomas is fine though, if you prefer it.”

She reached over and patted him on the arm. “No, Tommy is what you go by, Tommy is what you'll be called. And please, call me Margaret, and my husband Phillip. No need for formalities.”

“Yes, Ma'- Margaret.”

“You're a good man, Tommy,” she said, her face serious but sincere. “You're good for Buck.”

Tommy could feel his heart swell. “I'd argue he's good for me.”

“You're good for each other,” she compromised. “I've never seen him so happy, so settled. He may think I don't know him, and maybe I don't as well as I should, but I know that.” A happy blush rose on her cheeks. “I have a funny feeling you'll be calling us Mom and Dad sometime soon.”

Tommy felt overwhelmed. He'd never expected her to say anything like that, but he loved the sound of it. He was right near having to blink back tears as Buck walked out into the living room. “Jee caught Dad on his way out from the bathroom,” he said to his mom. “She's asking for you now.”

“Off I go,” Margaret said with a giggle, giving Tommy another pat before she got up and left.

Buck sat down beside Tommy, tilting his head when he saw the dazed expression on his face.

“You okay?” he asked, wrapping Tommy's arm up in his.

Tommy smiled at him, then leaned over and gave him a kiss.

“Mm,” Buck moaned in surprise, the kiss ending with a pop. “What was that for?”

“I just... I've had a really good night. And I love you.”

Buck snuggled closer to him, laying his head on his shoulder. “I love you too.”

As he rested there, Buck went over the night in his head. There had been no awkward moments. No moments where Buck felt embarrassed or upset.

Tommy never had to defend him or himself.

They had even managed to be alone with Tommy for an extended period and Tommy seemed... happy about it?

His parents actually got along with Tommy really well.

Buck was glad.

He was glad his parents liked Tommy.

There was no problem.

He wasn't jealous at all.

Honest.

[winterrrnight]

“here we are again” — new beginnings chapter II

PAIRING: stepdad!soft!rafe x mom!reader

WARNINGS: none!

EDITH SPEAKS: hello mls! I hope you enjoy reading this chapter <3 just a lil note: updates will get a bit sporadic for the upcoming week or so because I have some big things coming up which unfortunately require more attention than my silly little fics :( I greatly apologise for that, but let me tell you once I'm free I'll have great fics awaiting you all!!

please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading and don't hesitate to let me know any of your thoughts 💕💕

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You let out a huge sigh as you lean back in your chair and close your eyes shut. You’ve been trying to find a good preschool for Sage, after you had to pull her out of the one she was earlier in because their fees increased exponentially, and unfortunately you haven’t been earning enough to support Sage going to such an expensive school.

“Mamma mamma!” You hear her call you out from a different room. Her footsteps are audible as she comes running to you, basically banging the floor with her feet.

“Mamma!” She says, smiling wide, standing next to the front legs of your chair and tugging on your pants. You look down at her and plaster a big smile on your face, picking her up and placing her on your lap.

“Yes baby?” You coo, leaning to press a kiss on her soft cheek, which is tinted a light pink.

“I made something for you! You have to see it now,” she says, now tugging on your crewneck. You get up from your chair, Sage on your hip as you go to the room she was just in.

You set her down on the floor, and she picks up a folded paper. “Here,” she grins, and you take the paper from her.

You unfold it and you see a drawing of you, her, and one strange man standing next to the two of you. She’s colored in the drawings, her colors going out of her drawn lines, assuming their own directions, but nevertheless, you can’t help but grin wide at the present.

“Sage baby,” you get on your knees in front of her, “this is so cute! You’re my talented little kiddo, aren’t you?” You smile, tickling her sides. She laughs and squirms to get away from you, her little hands trying to swat you away.

“But who is that?” You ask, pointing at the drawing of the strange man.

“Fafe!” She yells excitedly.

“Fafe? Who’s ‘Fafe’ baby?”

“We met him, at the, at the store! He was big, veryyy big!”

And suddenly it strikes you. The handsome, handsome man who you met at the grocery store. It’s been around a week since that day and you had nearly forgotten about him.

Nearly.

Until this exact moment.

Now everything comes back to you; the exact moment you saw him, your eyes sinking into his, your heart beating so loud it might as well jump out of your chest.

“I remember him baby, why did you draw him?”

“Because, because he was very nice to me,” she says, her hands at her back as she’s swaying side to side in her position.

You aren’t sure what to reply to her with. She drew a man you met and didn’t even talk for more than five minutes on a random Tuesday, and showed you three being a family.

Dad, mom, and Sage. A family.

Is she expecting you two to just get married to him? To bring him in your house this quick?

But, at the end of the day, she’s a four year old little girl, with a wild imagination, and a desire to have a father figure in her life.

You’ve tried your level best to never let Sage feel the lack of a father in her life, but you always knew deep in your heart that one day, she will wonder why she only has a single parent, and why can’t she have two parents like all her friends. But you never expected this day to come so early.

You shake your head and come back to reality, and let a smile pull onto your lips. “I’ll hang this on the fridge next to all your other art,” you tell her, and she jumps up and down with excitement. You make your way to your kitchen, your daughter on your heels as she’s giggling, and you pin her drawing up with a magnet next to the rest. You take a step back to admire the splash of colors on your fridge door, your heart feeling content.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

You smooth out the wrinkles in her dress, and tie the bow of her dress tightly. Sage is especially giggly today, your hands roaming over her little body which constantly creates a tickling sensation on her skin.

“Mamma, where are we going?” She asks you, carefully pocketing a candy you gave her. You pick her up and take her to your kitchen island, settling her in her chair to hand her her cereal.

“We’re going to a new school baby,” you say, pouring milk into her bowl and mixing it well with her fruit loops.

“But, I love home,” she puts, her eyes big and wide, and you know she’s trying her best to convince you to stay at home by putting on a puppy dog face.

“You know that face doesn’t work on me,” you smile, sitting next to her, and gently smoothing a hand over her hair. She only giggles as her answer and you pick up her spoon, and start to feed her. Even though she knows how to eat on her own, you’re worried she might get messy and spill the milk on her dress.

You were worried she might not like the idea of going to a new school. She really liked the previous one, but you knew you couldn’t keep her in there for long. But here she is sitting next to you, eating her cereal as excitedly as if you’re about to go to an amusement park.

Once she’s done eating, you both leave for the school. This one also happens to be closer to your home than the last one, so you're quick to reach there. You help Sage get out of the car, her light bag hanging on her shoulders and her hand securely in yours, as you lead her to the main doors of the school.

When you go inside, the receptionist leads you to the classroom Sage has been assigned to. A few children are sitting on the floor of the classroom, empty white sheets spread around them along with unopened boxes of paint.

You hear Sage audibly gasp as she notices all the art supplies, her eyes shining with a desire to create art. You look around the classroom to spot a teacher, but there’s no one to be seen.

You decide to maybe talk to the receptionist once again; maybe she’s making a mistake? You leave Sage in the classroom and turn around, and almost in the next fraction of the second you bang into a broad chest.

“Oh gosh I’m so sorry!” You grunt, your eyes closed from the impact. You run a hand over your forehead, feeling a slight pain from your collision into the broad and muscular chest.

You finally open your eyes, and you see the last person you would expect to be here.

“Rafe?”

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