#kiting is usually a sweetheart towards everyone

[insert-something-funy-here]

I'm probably gonna delete this later, but Blocktales OC doodle!!!

Bro's name is Jay but went with a video game nickname to match with Brad/Griefer

Their weapon is one of the direction signs that are scattered around (he literally just took it with Griefer's help and encouragement). If you couldn't guess by his name, he fights with a more ranged style, usually hitting people with the pointy parts of the arrows on the sign, which requires a decent amount of distance. The way his main attack would work is similar to the sword but instead of holding until in the green you'd tap when in the green and that's the spot they stop in and then they swing away!

(Basically Griefer takes care of everyone up close and Kiting covers by taking care of those just out of his reach)

[okay-j-hannah]

That’s My Wife

Harry Potter : Fic

Charlie x Reader

Word Count: 3049

Warnings: SEXY TALK! Charlie is just all over you and your quidditch uniform 😂 Also I know I keep using different gifs for Charlie fics... I just look up ‘hot ginger man’ and pick one I like 🥰

Request: “Hey could I have a story where you are Charlie Weasleys wife and a professional quidditch player? In goblet of fire when they go to the world cup instead of Ireland vs Krum it's your team versus Krum and Charlie is so proud to have Weasley on your uniform and is showing you off to everyone and idk I really just think of Charlie as a very proud guy but humble. Thanks so much!” - Anon

A/N: There’s nothing quite like having your husband be your biggest supporter, especially with the Quidditch World Cup fast approaching

Shifting beneath the covers, (Y/N) sighed as her brain began to wake up. There were a number of thumps happening outside their bedroom and she groaned.

“Charlie?”

Thankfully, a hand came sneakily around her waist, pulling her to him, “What’s the point of apparating if we don’t even get to sleep in?”

“They’re excited,” (Y/N) replied in a quiet voice, keeping her eyes closed as she turned towards her husband, “And people are a bit careless when they’re tired.”

Footsteps could be heard going down the creaky stairs and (Y/N) peered behind Charlie to see that the moon was still basking their window. It had to have been nearly daybreak for the others to be up and about.

“I’ll have to get ready anyway,” she mumbled, resting back into Charlie’s embrace, “The team wants to do warmups and standard procedure before the majority of the crowds…”

Charlie suddenly held her tighter, silencing her with a grin, “Later, sweetheart – I won’t be able to see you all day. I want to hold you for a little while before you fly off.”

She couldn’t help the giggle that escape her with him cradling her against his chest. Though the World Cup was hours away, she knew her captain wouldn’t let her out of his sight until the game started. With the narrow win England made to be entered into the cup, there was immense pressure to deliver a swift and skillful victory for the team.

Being the rising star of “Quidditch Weekly,” there was a lot on (Y/N)’s shoulders to carry the team. It was that thought that began to swell within her when a sudden shout came from downstairs.

“George! What is that in your pocket?”

Charlie laughed low in his throat, his grisly morning voice doing it justice, “Looks like mum found those joke shop toffees.”

“Nothing!”

“Don’t you lie to me!”

(Y/N) took a deep breath, allowing Charlie’s natural scents relax her; worn leather, old newspaper, rain-soaked grass. She wasn’t quite sure what she was going to do without him giving her pep talks between penalty shots and time outs.

More than anything she wished he could be on the grounds with the referees instead of up in the stands.

With the anxiety filling her up as it usually did before a big game, she reached for his hand wrapped around her. Lacing their fingers together, she could feel him lean into her neck and plant a kiss behind her ear.

“You’re going to be incredible, sweetheart.”

She sighed into a smile, closing her eyes once more and allowing a few more moments of peace.

“Accio! Accio! Accio!” Came from downstairs, and she laughed out loud that time.

~~~

The sun crept higher and higher as the team lay on the pitch, doing stretches. Their captain Edric Vosper was pacing along the team benches.

“England hasn’t been a part of the Quidditch World Cup since 1981,” he intertwined his fingers in front of him, “And with us scraping that win against Transylvania last month… there’s too much at stake.”

“We know, Vosper,” came the voices of some of (Y/N)’s best friends – the beaters of the team, Dawn and Indira.

“We’ve had this same speech at every practice since that win,” (Y/N) added, smirking and straightening her arm braces, “I’m not sure there’s much else you can say to prepare us.” Her fellow chasers Avery and Keaton snickered behind their hands.

Vosper seemed at a loss of a comeback, finally sitting on one of the benches, “You’re right, of course. I just had a talk with Ludo Bagman and have basically every coin in my account betted for England being the winning team.”

“Why would you do that?” Dawn cried, slumping onto the grassy ground, “I’m worried enough about the game without knowing you’ll be broke if we lose.”

“And will probably have to crash at my place for the rest of the year,” Avery rolled his eyes.

Vosper put his face in his hands and took a deep breath, making the team all refrain from smiling sarcastically. (Y/N) stood and folded her arms, leaning forward slightly to speak.

“I say we take a break before the match starts – go enjoy some time with our families until the whistle blows.”

Keaton flexed his fingers, “Yeah, if I have to practice another quaffle pass I pretty sure my fingertips will snap.”

The team all laughed, evidently trying to make it as lighthearted as possible with the amount of pressure all nestled on their shoulders. (Y/N) secretly believed that a pep talk from all their close friends and family would motivate and improve the teams morale.

But she also knew that if she voiced that much of her opinion, then the players would just tease her about becoming the next great captain for the team. And she was too good of friends with Edric to make him doubt the authority of his position.

“Hey, guys, we’ve been practicing every day for weeks,” Indira stated, pulling a knee to her chest for a stretch. “Maybe enjoying our last meal with our families would relieve some stress.”

“Why are you saying it like we’ve all got death sentences? Our last meal?” Avery laughed, leaning over to push her away playfully.

She shrugged her shoulders, “Way to improve the mood, Hawksworth.”

The rest of the team laughed again, waiting for Vosper to lift his head from his hands. When he did he focused his attention to the opposing team across the quidditch pitch. The brutal Bulgarian team was conducting a number of routines with quaffle passes and snitch spotting.

They donned scarlet robes with black and gold lettering, which reminded (Y/N) of her Gryffindor house back at Hogwarts. It made her frown to see them arrogantly flashing those colors as they sped on their similarly tinted Firebolts.

Peering down at her own uniform, she relished in the bright white and complementary cherry red accents. The proud emblem of golden dragons blazoned the front and brought a fiery desire to beat Bulgaria with every bit of will power she had.

“I think we are over exhausting ourselves,” Vosper concluded, resting his elbows on his knees. “How about this – you all are free to do whatever you please until the match, as long as you deliver the Rowntree Counter.” He stared pointedly at (Y/N), saying, “If we can execute that as perfectly as you did with Transylvania, we’ll have this game in the bag.”

With slight hesitation, she gulped and nodded. She knew there were scouts in the crowd, recruiters that were looking for talent. If she could make a spotlight of their team, they could go far in quidditch history.

It was this thought that dwelled with her as she left the pitch and made her way through the crowds to find the tent grounds the Weasley’s had rented.

She quickly found herself distracted by numerous fans; now, with the sun newly risen and the mist lifting, she could see the city of tents that stretched in every direction. She made her way slowly through the rows, staring eagerly around.

Many of the campers were starting to wake up. First to stir were the families with small children; a tiny boy no older than two was crouched outside a large pyramid-shaped tent, holding a wand and poking happily at a slug in the grass, which was swelling slowly to the size of a salami.

“Excuse me, miss,” came a timid voice nearby, “Are you (Y/N) Weasley?”

She turned her shoulder and saw a young girl and boy standing on their tip toes and wringing their hands excitedly.

“Yes, ma’am, that’s me.”

“The chaser for England’s National team?” the boy added on, somewhat disregarding her previous response.

(Y/N) peered down at her uniform and shrugged her shoulders, “I’m pretty sure that’s what my robes say.”

There was a squeal behind her, and then another and another. Whispers, then shouts, began appearing all around her as exclamations said:

“Is that…?”

“Mum! It’s the England chaser!”

“She was on the cover of Quidditch Weekly yesterday.”

“Do you think I could get a signature?”

“Wait… (Y/N) Weasley?”

“I don’t have a quill… would she mind using my body paint?”

And it was twenty minutes before she was able to extract herself from the growing crowd. She had signed robes, arms, books, tents, and English flags with everything from paint to lipstick. There was even a little girl that bought a miniature figurine of (Y/N) that padded along her palm, even laughing the same full body laugh that (Y/N) usually did, which she signed the back of.

She had to apologize to everyone as she pushed through, saying she’d like to get to her family before the day was through. It didn’t stop the stares, gasps, and waves, but she was grateful for not being followed as closely anymore.

A short way farther on, she saw two little witches, who were riding toy broomsticks that rose only high enough for the girls’ toes to skim the dewy grass. Here and there adult wizards and witches were emerging from their tents to claim a breakfast. Some, with furtive looks around them, conjured fires with their wands; others were striking matches with dubious looks on their faces, as though sure this couldn’t work.

As she neared the other side of the fields, she noticed the colors changing drastically from black and scarlet to white and cherry. This new patch of tents were all covered with thick clusters of dragon themed décor; blue, red, and white flags flew all around the campers. Dragon kites, dragon statues, dragon emblems, dragon puppets, and even dragon hide was covering most other surfaces.

It really showed the loyalty, as well as the increase of more fans trying to get her attention. One began waving a moving poster of herself crossing her arms and smiling broadly. But just beyond she noticed the exact family she was looking for.

“Charlie!”

One of the redheads sitting around the morning fire stood and whipped around to see who was calling for him. When he spotted his beloved, he called out, urging her forward.

The nearer she got, she noticed that it wasn’t just the Weasley’s, Harry, and Hermione – Ludo Bagman and Mr. Barty Crouch were there too.

“I thought you were going to be on the pitch all day!” Charlie cried, reaching her and pulling her into a bone-crushing hug. “I wasn’t expecting to see you until after the game.”

She giggled happily as he lifted her enough that she was on her toes, “We convinced Vosper that we could use a break to gather our senses.” She nuzzled into his shoulder as they continued to hold each other close – that calming smell of rainfall and old, weathered book pages whelmed her again.

Charlie moved a hand to the side of her face where he could direct her attention to his eyes, “God, you’re so beautiful.”

She smiled, her eyes suspicious, “Even in this sweaty updo?”

“What can I say? I can’t resist a woman in uniform.” He gave her a seductive gaze and bit his lip, leaning his forehead against hers.

She moved her hands up his torso and around his neck, sighing deep in her chest, “Not until I knock Bulgaria on their ass.”

Charlie closed his eyes and breathed deeply, “You just got a whole lot sexier.” And he practically growled as he dipped for a kiss, a hungry kiss. The intensity took (Y/N) slightly off guard, accidentally pulling a moan out of her.

“Okay, woah, woah!” came the boisterous voices of Fred and George, “Lock it up, this isn’t your honeymoon.”

They could hear Ginny laughing with Bill, and Percy was muttering things like, “Right in front of Mr. Crouch,” under his breath.

“Now, Charlie,” Mr. Weasley stated in a nervously loud tone, “We’ve got guests.”

(Y/N) had to be the one to pull away, finding her breath was taken away by the moment. Charlie grinned and waved a hand over his shoulder.

“Paparazzi,” she muttered, “We’re surrounded by witnesses.”

“It would be ridiculous to hide my feelings for you, (Y/N). Why shouldn’t the public know we have a perfectly wonderful marriage.” He held her by her shoulders, “I’m proud to have you by my side, so what if the Daily Prophet knows we kiss… guess what? We’re married!”

She couldn’t help but laugh, “Still I’d like to keep a few things… hello!” Behind Charlie’s shoulder she could see the entire Weasley family, and guests, watching them closely.

Charlie twirled around and put an arm around (Y/N), “Mr. Crouch, Ludo – may I introduce my wife, (Y/N) Weasley. THE best chaser that England has known these last few years.”

Ludo Bagman, a jolly man with rosy cheeks and a boyish charm, stood immediately and came to shake hands, “An introduction long overdue I’m sure you feel as well. You know I’ve got a pretty penny on your head to get England the win tonight.”

“Us too,” Fred yelled over the many heads, “So don’t fall off your broom.”

“Oh, you’ve seen nothing until you’ve seen (Y/N) play on the pitch,” Charlie stated, leaning towards the group, “She’s like a snitch herself, whipping through the air.”

“Yes,” agreed Ludo, “The biggest hope England has had in over a decade.”

Charlie beamed, moving his loving gaze to his wife. He simply stood there admiring the praise and talent, silently wondering how it was possible she had chosen him to be her husband.

“Thank you, Mr. Bagman,” (Y/N) replied, “Though you should look at England as the team it is – I’m just one person; it takes all of us to win the cup.”

Charlie grinned even wider if it was possible. Admiration wasn’t enough to describe how in awe he was of her. It was like she was in total denial that she was plainly the one carrying the national team. Though it was incredibly endearing and only made him more in love with the fact that she was with him.

“Oh, please, don’t neglect your talents,” Ludo exclaimed, “We all know you were the one that got the qualification from the Transylvania win!”

“Even with that illegal shot by the bludger,” Ron interjected, sneaking the rest of Hermione’s breakfast sausages, “Those scheming, biased referees.”

Bill clapped his hands together, “This is exactly the problem, if we can’t find the right people to observe the field, then what’s the point of having good players? They’ll be disregarded completely with a biased referee!”

And the family continued the conversation of the prospects of the upcoming game. Percy and Mr. Weasley tried to continue remarks with Mr. Crouch before he left and shortly followed by Bagman.

And all Charlie could do was stare at his wife and wonder… wonder how he got so lucky.

~~~

She could hear the sounds of thousands of people moving around them, shouts and laughter, snatches of singing. The atmosphere of feverish excitement was highly infectious; Dawn and Avery couldn’t stop grinning.

The roaring voice of Ludo Bagman could be heard magically magnified across the sea of people.

“Ladies and gentlemen… welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!”

The spectators screamed and clapped. Thousands of flags waved, adding their discordant national anthems to the racket. A huge blackboard opposite them showed BULGARIA: 0, ENGLAND: 0.

After a presentation of entrancing Veela and a few soaring dragon fireworks, Ludo began to announce the Bulgarian quidditch team members; next came England.

“Presenting – Vosper, Frisby, Choudry, Withey, Flitney, Hawksworth, and Weasley!”

Seven gleaming robed players came whizzing out of the stands on white golden Firebolts. The Weasley family cheered and shook their top box voraciously.  

“That’s her, that’s her!” yelled Charlie, waving his English flag and pushing into Bill and Ron. His brother followed her with his Omnioculars.

“Theeeeeeeey’re OFF!” screamed Bagman. “And it’s Weasley! Hawksworth! Flitney! Dimitrov! Back to Weasley! Hawksworth! Levski! Flitney!”

The speed of the players was incredible – the chasers were throwing the quaffle to one another so fast that Bagman only had time to say their names. Charlie reached over to fight Ron’s Omnioculars off him but failed as he heard the name Weasley again.

The chasers had fallen into their Rowntree Counter, their signature move. They flew into a straight dive as red, white, and blue colors came streaming out of the back of their brooms – signifying the flag of the United Kingdom.

They knocked two of the opposing Bulgarian players teetering on their brooms and distracted the beaters. Flitney passed the quaffle to Hawksworth, who kicked it around before passing it back to Weasley.

(Y/N) did a magnificent overhead kick into the hoop on the far left.

“WEASLEY SCORES!” roared Bagman, and the stadium shuddered with a roar of applause and cheers. “Ten zero to England!”

Charlie jumped and waved his arms, screaming himself hoarse, “THAT’S MY WIFE! WEASLEY IS MY WIFE!”

Bill reached over and stuffed his UK flag over Charlie’s face to shut him up, and Ginny laughed, giving him her white and red rosette.

(Y/N) did a lap of honor around the field and threw a kiss towards the top box where Charlie waved his hands toward her, “I love you, baby!”

The England chasers were superb. They worked as a seamless team, their movements so well coordinated that they appeared to be reading one another’s minds as they positioned themselves, and the rosette now on Charlie’s chest kept squeaking their names: “Flitney – Weasley – Hawksworth!” And within ten minutes, England had scored twice more, bringing their lead to thirty-zero and causing a thunderous tide of roars and applause from the white-clad supporters.

Charlie watched as (Y/N) performed miraculous moves toward the goal posts. The continuous overhead kicks, the usage of the butt-end of her broom like a beater bat, and the intense throw of her arm was mesmerizing.

Charlie yelled and screamed until his face turned red, shouting his praise for his wife. The other members in the top box had to accept the fact that Charlie wasn’t going to shut up about his incredible player on the field.

It was just a continuous strain of, “THAT’S MY WIFE!” with a splendid look of pride and admiration on his cheery face.

“WEASLEY IS MY WIFE!”

~~~

Tag List:

@caswinchester2000 @aria253264 @bippity-boppity-boopa @andreasworlsboring101 @oncemorewithfeelingg

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[fanficimagery]

Because We Got High.

Relationship: Billy & Reader Warnings: Drug use (it’s just weed) & language. Words: 1,820  Tags: Fluff & humor.

Billy's been driving around for the last twenty minutes, music blaring and smoking cigarette after cigarette as he looks for Max. She was meant to be at one of her friends' houses, but the little shits apparently jumped from house to house without telling anyone. Everyone was meant to be at the Wheeler's- and boy was that fun having to see Karen Wheeler answer the door side-by-side with her husband, squirming and with pleading eyes to not utter a word of their previous flirtations- but the kids weren't there. So Billy drove to the Byers', and again no luck.

The Sinclair household only had one mouthy little girl that Billy briefly found amusing, and it was she who directed him to the Henderson's.

"Just walk right in," the little girl Erica had told him. "My brother and his friends will most likely ignore the doorbell and Ms. Henderson likes to chase her evening pills with alcohol."

"For being a kid, you know an awful lot about what Ms. Henderson does at night."

"I'm thirteen, you mullet wearing bastard." She had sassed him- actually sassed him before slamming the door in his face and all Billy could do was laugh about it.

The kid had fire and he liked it. It was rather refreshing.

Then having gotten back in his car, he memorized the directions to the Henderson household that Erica had given him and drove.

Pulling up outside the Henderson house, Billy stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray before cutting the engine and climbing out. The lights are all on inside, so he wastes no time stomping up to the front door and ringing the bell.

No answer.

He tries the door knob and it's locked.

"For fucks sake," Billy grumbles, growing agitated.

He then decides to pound on the door with a closed fist, but again there's no answer. There's a TV blaring somewhere inside, but he rather not start peeking through windows and risk the neighbors calling the cops on him. Instead he stomps around to the back of the house and is intent on pounding on the back door, yelling until someone answers him. But the moment he steps foot in the backyard, a strong familiar scent hits him full force and he stumbles to a stop before looking for the source.

Dusty and all his little friends had decided to come over and you knew there'd be no peace in order for you to watch a couple of movies as you had planned. They'd all congregated into Dustin's room which was just right next to yours and immediately they were a loud mess. So after making sure your mother was nice and tuckered out downstairs in front of the TV, you went back into your room and into your closet.

At the very top, very back of your closet was your secret stash of weed that was only smoked in emergency situations. And this? This was an emergency of boredom that you needed to quell right away.

So after making sure you had everything in your box, you tuck it under your arm and go back downstairs to exit the back door. In your backyard is the only thing left that reminds everyone of your fathers presence before he split- a large treehouse in the sturdiest tree that Dustin and his friends usually chilled out in when they weren't inside.

There's an actual staircase that wraps around the tree and you climb them all the way up to the house itself. Then plopping down in one of the bean bags, you set the box in your lap, open it up, and smile as you stare down at its contents.

After rolling a blunt and lighting up, you take a deep drag and let the smoke settle in your lungs before blowing it out. Drag after drag, your body starts to loosen up and you quickly find yourself sprawled on the floor of the treehouse.

You have more than enough weed for another blunt and you lazily start to roll another one.

Before you can light up, however, a voice stalls you.

"You do know the entire back yard smells like weed, right? You looking to be busted?"

Rolling over, you belly crawl to the door and look down. Standing in your backyard, looking far too handsome for his own good, is none other than Billy Hargrove. "You gonna be a narc, Hargrove?"

He walks over to the bottom of the stairs, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Do I know you?"

"Nah. We don't have classes together, but you made an impression on all the little sheep at school. Name's Y/N. I'm Dustin's sister."

"Hmm." He glances at the house once more. "So can I just walk in and grab Max or..?"

"They got a D&D session going on, so good luck, man."

Billy huffs and turns around, stomping up to the back door and entering your house. You watch, lighting up your second blunt of the night and wait. A handful of minutes pass before Billy exits alone, looking a little more agitated than he had moments before.

Chuckling softly, you hold out the blunt so he can see the embers burning bright in the night. "Need a little relaxation while you wait? Come on up, Hargrove. I don't bite." Billy sighs but makes his way towards the stairs nonetheless. Laughing as he ducks to enter through the door, you roll onto your back and hold out the blunt towards him. "Welcome to Stoners Anonymous. I'm Y/N and I'll be your host this evening."

Billy's agitation is quickly wiped away and a smile takes place of his scowl. He takes the offered blunt and holds it to his lips, taking a long drag as he lets his head fall back and eyes close in pure bliss. Blowing out the smoke, he then takes a seat. "That's good. Who's your dealer?"

"A good customer never reveals her sources until at least the third smoking party."

"Whatever you say." He takes another hit, letting his gaze wander around the spacious treehouse. "You know, a good host usually has snacks for when the munchies hit."

On cue, your stomach rumbles and Billy chuckles as you groan. Cursing quietly, you sit up and crawl over to a stack of crates that act as a stand of cubbies. Pulling out a walkie talkie, you turn it on and hold down the button. "Calling all nerds. Calling all nerds. Take a break from D&D and bring me some noms. Over."

Billy grins, passing the blunt back to you. You take a drag as the walkie in hand crackles to life. "Are you high? Over." Someone giggles before it cuts out.

"As a kite. Now bring me some noms. Enough for two. Over."

"Two? How much did you smoke?!"

"Don't question me, Dusty, or I'm telling mom what really happened to Mews."

The walkie goes quiet, so Billy asks, "Mews?"

"Mhm," You distractedly nod. "Mom's cat that she fucking adored more than her own kids. My idiot brother brought home something feral and it ate Mews. We had to tell her, her beloved cat ran away."

"That's wild."

"Alright. What do you want? Over."

You first pump victoriously. "Pizza rolls."

Billy's nose wrinkles. "Screw that. You got cash? We'll drive and pick up burgers."

Your eyes widen as you beam at him. "You're my new favorite person! Here. Finish it," you tell him while passing the blunt back to him. "I'll go get some cash and shoes, and meet you out front."

Tossing the walkie aside, you watch as Billy picks it up to speak into it. "Cancel the rolls. Y/N and I are driving for food instead."

"Billy?!"

He smirks. "Hello, Maxine. Since you and your nerds are taking forever, I'm taking Y/N for food."

A bunch of rambling comes over the walkie and he clicks it off, tossing it on one of the bean bags. Then with the blunt between his lips, he exits the treehouse and saunters down the stairs.

By the time Billy makes it around front, you're standing rather impatiently in the middle of the sidewalk. All the kids are on the front stoop, glancing between you and him.

"So you two are friends?" Dustin asks. "Since when? You don't socialize, Y/N."

"Whatever. We officially met tonight. Shared a blunt and now we're the best of friends!"

"The best," he leers, coming up beside you and throwing an arm around your shoulders.

All the boys grimace.

"I don't like it." Dustin grumbles.

"Too bad. I didn't like Mike when he first came around."

"Hey!"

"No offense, Wheeler," you quickly amend. "And now look. I adore all you fuckin' gremlins, but that's about to change if you don't let me leave and get a burger."

"Fine!"

"Fine! Let's go, Hargrove."

Billy flicks the remainder of the blunt to the ground, smirking as he turns and leads you to his car. You readily open the passenger door and climb on in, waving at your brother and his friends who suspiciously keep watch of Billy. After settling in and Billy settling in as well, his engine roars to life and you laugh as AC/DC immediately blares at you.

He peels out in front of your house and you hang your right arm out the window to feel the wind rushing against it.

"Come on, Billy. Show me what your baby's got."

Glancing at you, Billy slowly smirks. He turns down one of the back roads, pressing harder on the gas and picking up speed. You laugh, leaning your head towards the opened window and letting your hair whip every which way. "Whoooo!" You scream.

As you settle back into your seat, your bright eyes land on Billy as he splits his attention between you and the road. "Where the hell have you been since I've been in Hawkins, Henderson?"

You waggle your eyebrows. "If you'd stop bullying Harrington, hot shot, you'd find me napping somewhere in the room."

He huffs. "Don't tell me you're fond of boy wonder?"

"Eh. Steve's decent." Billy scoffs. "No, I'm serious. If you boys would get over your egos or whatever shit is keeping you from actually being cool with each other, you'd see Steve is a hell of a lot more tolerable than Tommy. Because seriously, gross. You can do a lot better than Tommy, my dude."

"You talk a lot. I'm honestly surprised I've never met you before."

"Mhm. I think I'm possibly one of the last remaining females who hasn't taken you for a ride."

"Just name the time and place, sweetheart, and we'll rectify that."

"Smooth, Hargrove. Very smooth."

"I try."

"Well try driving faster because I've got a serious case of the munchies and if you don't feed me soon, I'm gonna get cranky."

He chuckles. "Whatever you say, Henderson. Whatever you say."

[psychovigilantewrites]

Jason, Not Him

Pairing: Jason Todd/Reader

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 5758

Ao3

Summary:  Jason feels like his older brother Dick wants his girlfriend. Too bad. Dick can't have you. You're Jason's and he's going to make sure Dick understands that.

A/N: Hey guys! Taking a break from Red Who and decided to write this short smut up instead. This has tags for voyeurism, semi public sex and Jason being all possessive. 

Masterlist

Dick got everything he wanted.

He was the golden boy, the first Robin, the responsible one, the leader.

Jason? Jason was the Universe’s bitch.

It wasn't hard to love dick. Dick had girls swooning over him ever since he was a kid. Now that he's all grown up, of course even more women would flock to him.

Dick also had a face that you knew you could trust. He was sensitive, friendly, warm, and open with his feelings.

Jason was the complete opposite. It wasn't that he wasn't a looker, but you'd need to have a specific type to like someone like Jason. People would fall in love with Dick the minute they saw him, but for Jason’s case, they'd need to see him every day to really appreciate his subtle good looks.

Jason wasn't as friendly and warm as Dick, too. Neither was he open with his feelings like Dick was.

But did Jason hate Dick? No. On the contrary, Jason loved him. He was Jason’s older brother after all, and Jason respected him. He was skilled, he worked hard. Jason had no problem admitting all of that.

And you know what? Jason never tried to overshadow his older brother. Jason never tried to get Bruce to love him more, to get people to tell him he was the better Robin, to steal his girlfriends, to snatch his best friends.

Was there a sense of jealousy that he felt? Yes, from time to time. Who wouldn’t be occasionally jealous of their perfect older brother?

But Jason would never act out on it. If Dick wanted something, he wouldn't fight him on it.

But you? Jason would fight Dick to the death if it meant that he got to keep you.

You were the only thing that Jason truly wanted, loved, appreciated. You were what pulled him from whatever dark place he was in and guided him to be the happy and content man he was today.

Dick couldn't have you.

But oh, did he want to.

Jason knew that Dick was the flirtatious type- even with men. Dick never realised how much he had an effect on people. But the way Dick tries so hard to make you laugh, to comfort you, to be kind to you. Jason didn't like it.

He knew that the way Dick looked at you was not the way he looked at anyone else.

Dick looked at you with a sense of intense longing, an emotion that Jason knew all too well.

He looked at you the way a pained ex-boyfriend would look at their loved one with somebody else. The sad smile, the big round eyes, the slump of his back that said he was emotionally exhausted from loving you too much.

Jason didn't get it.

Dick could have anyone else, and he had everything going for him. Why does he need to want you?

Jason was the one who grew up with you, not him. Jason was the one who accompanied you when both his and your parents were high as kites, not him. Jason was the one that continued to be your best friend after Bruce took you in, not him. Jason was the one that convinced Bruce to train you as well, not him. Jason was the one who seeked you out and comforted you after he came back from the dead, not him. Jason was the one who fell in love with you from way back then, when you were both in Crime Alley, not him.

You starved together, picked pockets together, survived together.

Dick didn't understand what the two of you have been through. It was the only thing about his brother that he hated. If it was anyone else but you, he wouldn't have felt the need to spite Dick so much.

But it was you, after all, so Jason needed to make sure Dick knew that he wasn't about to let you go so easily.

*** Ding dong.

Jason made eye contact with Dick, who looked up at him over the kitchen counter, wide eyed.

“I’ll get it,” he said.

“No, I’ll get it,” Jason replied.

Jason narrowed his eyes at Dick, as Dick’s own became increasingly wider. They stared at each other for a moment, like a cowboy stand off, waiting for the other to make the first move.

Dick suddenly scrambled over in the direction of the main door, and Jason hurried after him.

“I said I don’t mind getting it, Jason!” Dick yelled over his shoulder, running through the dining room.

“No, please, let me!” Jason chased after him.

Both of them zoomed past Alfred, who was setting the dining table, shouting, “Really!”

The two of them approached the large, wooden, grand door of the manor, reaching out for the handle at the same time, and pulled it open to reveal you, slightly shocked and staring weirdly at the two panting men in front of you.

“Hey, babe,” Jason breathed, and swooped in for a peck on your lips.

“Hey, Jay,” you greeted back, “Hi, Dick.”

Dick just winked at you, leaning against the door frame, making you giggle slightly.

“Come in,” Jason suddenly scowled, moving out of the doorway for you.

Jason noticed that you had raised an eyebrow at his sudden shift in attitude, and he immediately gave you back an apologetic smile.

He saw you take a deep breath and smiled, “Dinner smells amazing. Where’s everyone?”

“They’re all helping out in the kitchen, but I think you can go straight to the dining room. Everything’s just about done,” Dick answered before Jason could open his mouth.

He gave Dick a glare.

“Okay, then,” you beamed at Dick, heading straight towards the dining room.

Jason didn’t have to show you around, because the manor was almost as much your home as it was his. You have been coming over ever since he was adopted. You trained alongside him under Batman after a year he was Robin, since he told you and you wanted to be included too.

But mostly because Jason felt bad if he were to abandon you to live on the streets, unprotected, when he was eating three hot meals a day served by a butler. Jason always felt like he needed to take care of you. But he wouldn’t be able to protect you from the people on the streets if he was busy with Batman. So he talked to Bruce and demanded that he trained you as well.

You proved to Bruce that you had what it takes. You were very smart, and strategic, and Bruce saw that you had a lot of potential. Although, it took longer for Bruce to train you, since you didn’t have basic fighting skills like Jason did.

That’s because it was always Jason that protected you in the streets.

When Jason had died, you were still under training.

When he returned, you were a well trained, extremely skilled, and brutal vigilante.

The manor was your second home. Jason made sure of that.

So why were you beaming at Dick like he was the one who was with you all those years?

“Hey,” you suddenly appeared close to Jason, making him jump at your sudden touch, knocking him back to reality. “You okay?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” he forced a smile, “You hungry?”

“Starving,” you groaned, “I love it when you all get together and cook.”

“I know, princess, that’s why I invited you over,” he grinned.

“That’s bullshit, Todd,” Damian entered the dining room from behind you, “Father said that she’s part of the family, so she has to be here for anything and everything anyway. It’s got nothing to do with you.”

“Why hello to you too, Dames,” you smiled at the youngest Wayne. Jason knew you were extremely touched by what he had said, but knowing you, you didn’t show it. You were similar to Jason in that aspect. “Want to give me a hug?”

“I’m fourteen, not five,” he huffed, pulling out a chair from the long and polished mahogany dining table that was set with fine china and silver cutlery. Jason saw Damian blush slightly.

And apparently, so did you, because you whispered to Jason, “I think he has a crush on me.”

“Yeah, him and the whole damn world apparently,” he grumbled to himself.

“What?”

“Nothing. Here-” Jason pulled out a chair for you.

Before you could sit down, Bruce walked in. You politely greeted him and gave him a kiss on the cheek, like you would your father.

If Jason was being completely honest with himself, he couldn’t blame Dick or Damian, or anyone really, for falling in love with you. Jason knew you best after all, and he knew you were irresistible.

He loved your smile, your pretty face, your sexy body. He loved the way you laughed out loud at a lame pun or cried over sappy chick flicks. He loved that although you were kind, you were still suspicious of others until they proved themselves to you. Growing up on the streets did that to a person.

And he knew that everyone else saw you as this brutal, tough vigilante who doesn’t hesitate to fuck shit up- but Jason? Jason couldn’t help but remember you as this skinny, hungry girl with the red nose who would come running to his apartment window from the fire escape stairs whenever your parents fought.

He knew you best, and because of that, he felt like no one else deserved to be with you.

Least of all Dick Grayson- who never knew what it was like to hate the world.

Dinner was casual, as usual. Having you around made it feel like it was complete.

But Jason noticed that Dick kept on giving you glances from across the table, offering you gravy, passing you the butter, trying hard to make you laugh with his stupid fucking puns.

The stupid puns you found so funny.

Now you were talking to Dick, about some show. So Jason put his hand on your thigh. You jumped slightly, cutting off what you were going to say.

Dick narrowed his eyes at Jason.

“-uhm, yeah, I think you’d like it,” you continued, face suddenly going red.

“Well, I always watch whatever you recommend, you know that,” Dick smoothly flattered you.

“Speaking of shows, I brought some DVDs for us to watch later if you guys want to..?” you glanced at everyone.

“Ah, sorry. I have to finish up some blueprints,” Tim apologized, “I really would have loved to, though.”

“That’s okay,” you waved a hand in dismissal. You understood very well how Tim was occupied with work.

“I have a history paper to finish,” Damian groaned, “Unless-”

“No,” Bruce scolded his son, “Unless you want to sacrifice patrol night.”

“No,” Damian slumped in his seat.

“And you, Bruce? Or do you have Batman stuff?” you asked.

“Unfortunately, yes,” he said, “Sorry.”

“Well, I know Jay has nothing to do. How about you, Dick?” you looked at him hopefully.

Jason made a point to stare at Dick, giving him an intense “Don’t you dare” look.

Dick blinked once at Jason, and then turned to you and said, “I’d love to!”

“Yay!” you clapped your hands, “Just the three of us then. You guys would love it, it recently just won-”

Jason didn’t hear what awards your movie won, or how many times it was nominated- he was too busy stopping himself from punching his older brother in the face.

So there Jason was on one end of the sofa, and Dick on the opposite end. You were sandwiched in between them.

The movie was on, the room was dark, and you were concentrating intently despite it not being the first time you were watching it.

But you were the only one watching the movie, because Dick was stealing glances at you, and Jason was just glaring at him, practically daring him to make a move on you.

Jason did feel bad for not paying attention, though, since you were so excited. He made a mental note to watch it later.

Jason just couldn’t take it. Dick wasn’t even hiding the fact that he liked you. He needed to do something about his brother’s intentions.

“Hey, princess, you cold?” Jason whispered in your ear, stretching his arm behind your head to rest on the back of the sofa.

“A little, but it’s okay,” you whispered back, not taking your eyes off the screen.

“Then come closer,” he replied, pulling your waist with his other arm, to bring you closer to him. He saw you blushing slightly, letting out a small giggle.

He pulled the blanket that was hanging folded on the sofa arm and threw it over the two of you. He felt you cuddle up to him, more comfortable now there was a barrier to block Dick’s view of the two of you.

Jason waited patiently for about five minutes before he proceeded with his plan.

He leaned over to you and started nibbling on your earlobe, kissing your neck, sucking, licking, pulling, biting. All the while letting his hand on your waist rub up and down underneath the blanket.

“Jason!” you hissed at him, “We have company.”

“It’s just Dick,” he whined, “Dick doesn’t mind. Do you, Dick?”

Jason looked up at him. Dick stared, his jaw clenched.

“Whatever,” he managed to grit and then turned back to the screen.

“See, babe? It’s all good,” Jason continued his oral assault on your neck.

“I don’t know. Maybe we should go- oh,” you were suddenly cut off by the surprise you felt when Jason slipped his hand from your waist to underneath your skirt, brushing on your panty covered clit.

Jason didn’t hesitate to start rubbing, feeling your panties getting wetter and wetter by the second. He himself was getting hard.

Jason knew you had a little kink for voyeurism that you didn’t want to admit. He knew your search history, and he knew that you loved it when he watched you touch yourself.

He went a step further and pulled aside your panties, rubbing his finger up and down your wet folds. He smirked when he felt you part your legs.

Jason rested his chin on top of your head so he could look at his older brother, who obviously knew what was going on.

Dick was looking straight at the screen, but his hands were in fists on his lap, and his jaw clenching and unclenching. Jason slipped a finger inside your dripping, tight, and warm hole, eliciting a small moan from you.

Dick’s head snapped to the two of you with that sound.

Jason continued to pump his finger in and out of you, curling up at your sweet spot. Fuck, he was hard. And it wasn’t only because he had his fingers inside of you.

It was that he was finger fucking you in front of Dick, claiming you, making him watch him do things to you that Dick never would be able to.

He loved seeing his brother livid as he fucked your pussy with his now two fingers.

You were oblivious to the exchange. You were still pretending to watch the movie, even though your pants were loud and your moans were hardly subtle. Even though the sound of your wet pussy could be heard.

Jason felt your walls grow tighter and tighter, knowing you were about to cum, so he sped up, not giving a fuck that the violent movement of his arm was slowly slipping the blanket off.

You gasped, and then clamped your mouth with your hand, your eyes tight shut.

He watched Dick watch you cum, smirking to himself.

And then Dick left.

Jason was slowly pumping you, bringing you down. Once you were grounded, Jason took out his fingers, and then licked them, savouring your sweet taste.

“Oh my god,” you whispered frantically, “Oh my god, do you think he noticed?”

“No, you were good at hiding,” Jason lied, winking at you, “He just forgot he promised to help Bruce with something.”

“Did he actually say that?” you looked at him, worry in your eyes.

“Yeah, didn’t you hear?” Jason cocked an eyebrow.

He felt bad lying to you. But he had to. He had to man up and show Dick who you belonged to.

“No, I didn’t,” you realised, “Wow. That was- wow.”

Jason kissed you on the temple, “You enjoyed that, babe?”

“Yeah,” you giggled, “I didn’t think having someone there that might catch you would make it so exciting.”

“Knew you were a voyeur,” he pinched your cheeks.

“Shut up!” you groaned, embarrassed, “Hey! Were you even watching the movie?”

“No,” Jason admitted guiltily, “But I promise you that I’m going to watch it soon, okay?”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“I promise!” Jason insisted, “I couldn’t help it. I missed you.”

“We just saw each other last night during patrol,” you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, but I didn’t get to touch you, baby girl,” he told you, “I’ve been thinking about you a lot these past few days. I miss making you scream my name.”

You blushed.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Jason started.

“What?”

“What do you think of Dick?” he cringed internally, mentally slapping himself for sounding so desperately insecure.

“Dick?” you repeated in surprise, “He’s great. I mean, he was there for me when you weren’t… alive. Tim, too.”

“Yeah, no, I meant like,” Jason hesitated, “Looks wise?”

“Jason, are you asking me if I find your brother hot?” you started to break into a cheeky grin.

“So what if I am?” Jason huffed defensively.

“I think he’s a good looking guy,” you said truthfully, entertained by your boyfriend’s sudden question, “But so is Tim. And Damian. And you. It’s like Bruce adopted all of you solely based on looks. Except Damian, of course. Bruce has himself to be proud of.”

“So you think Dick’s good looking, then?” Jason grumbled, ignoring everything else you just said, “Of course you do.”

“Jason,” you sighed, “Yes, I think Dick’s good looking, but only a blind person wouldn’t think that. Look. I didn’t fall in love with you because of your looks- although that played a major factor too. You wanna know how I fell in love with you?”

Jason just pouted at you.

“Because of this,” you poked a finger at Jason’s forehead, near his temple and slightly into his hairline, “It’s not there anymore because of the Pit, but you used to have a small scar there. You got it because some asshole in the alley cut you with a blade. You were defending me. He was going to hurt me.”

Jason now looked at you, softening his expression. Yes, he remembered that. If he hadn’t jumped in front of you in time and blocked the strike, the man would have slashed your neck.

“And this,” you bunched up his shirt, revealing his chest.

“You like my bod a lot, huh, princess?” he smirked.

“Yes, but that’s not the point,” you rolled your eyes, “Here, here, and here.”

You poked three of his ribs.

“You cracked your ribs in three places because you got beaten up trying to pickpocket some brute. We weren’t starving that night, but I told you that I wanted to have a milkshake,” you softly smiled at the memory, “So you went and tried to get some money for me.”

Jason remembered that all too well. The two of you couldn’t have been older than ten. You had a sad look in your eyes when you said that you never tried the famous strawberry milkshake at Jackie’s diner. Jason never tried it too, but his heart broke when he saw you look like that.

Jason never told you, but after he came back from the hospital, his dad had beat him again while he was still injured because he got into trouble.

“That’s my point, Jason,” you explained, “I didn’t fall in love over some shallow thing like your good looks or sexy body. That’s not love. I fell in love with you every single time you had a new scar or cast on you- any stupid injury you got because you were trying to look out for me.”

Jason looked at you and took everything in. Your eyes were wide and watery, conveying every single emotion that he needed to hear from you.

“So get over Dick, okay?” you comforted him.

“Yeah, okay,” he nodded and gave you a warm kiss.

He never doubted your love for him. Nor your attraction. Even if he did, it was all gone now. But the problem still remained. Dick was still looking at you, Dick was still wanting you. And Jason still needed to show Dick who you belonged to.

***

Jason fucking hated Gotham.

The high crime rates only showed how many scum of the Earth lived there- and the stats were definitely lower than reality.

Reality is that the big crime bosses were wealthy families with old inheritance, passed down from generation to generation. Their families were the ones who built Gotham up- not unlike the Waynes themselves.

The stats never mentioned the rich. They were safe in their own mansions and yachts. No, it was people like Jason that received the bad end of their organized crime. They were the ones who hired the petty criminals to do their dirty work. And violence just bred more violence.

And what happened to the ones who couldn’t defend themselves in midst of all that chaos?

Jason happened. You happened. Two starving children with shitbag parents trying to make it day by day, exchanging what little they could afford with each other in dark alleys similar to the one Jason was overlooking from the roof then.

Jason glared down at the empty alleyway, and then turned to grapple to another, higher rooftop.

There, he strutted to the edge of the roof, leaning on a raised cement ledge that was as tall as his hips, overlooking the zooming traffic on the street below.

It was sort of peaceful, Gotham at night. Despite the increase in criminal activity, he hated to admit that he thought the city was almost beautiful when the sun goes down.

He glanced at the building on the other side of the street. He saw a movement there. Through his helmet, he zoomed in his lenses like a pair of binoculars, and saw Nightwing.

“Hey,” a voice came from behind him all of a sudden which made him jump slightly.

He turned and saw you strutting towards him in your tight, black vigilante suit, wearing a black domino mask with white lenses to protect your identity. The suit stuck to your skin at your arms, legs, and ass. Your abdomen was protected by kevlar that was sewed fashionably well onto your suit, still accentuating your breasts and the curve of your waist.

Jason loved your suit.

He glanced back at the building across the street, and seeing Nightwing was still there, cocking his head to one side and looking at the both of you curiously.

An idea popped into Jason’s head.

He rushed to you, taking off his helmet in the process. He still wore a domino mask similar to yours underneath, with special white lenses as well.

“What are you up t- mmpf,” you couldn’t finish your sentence because Jason had grabbed your face with both his hands and attacked your lips with his.

While he was prodding his tongue at your mouth, he swiftly pressed a button on the earpiece in his ear, tuning him into Nightwing’s frequency, so he could hear everything that was happening.

“Woah, Jay,” you flushed, “What’s gotten into you? Not that I’m complaining.”

“Take off your mask, I want to see your eyes,” he panted at you, ripping off the mask from your face. The real reason was that he didn’t want you to see Dick from across the street. Dick was invisible to the naked eye from that distance and dim lighting.

“Babe,” he groaned, and kissed you again, pulling your hips into his own and grinding his now half hard cock on your stomach. “Baby girl, I need you.”

“Now?” your voice rose a pitch , “Here?”

“Why not?” he grinned, “It’s not like anyone’s here. Besides, you like it a little bit public, don’t you?”

You turned a shade red when he mentioned that.

“So you up for it?” he asked you.

You looked him in the eyes for a few moments, and then gave him a tiny, shy nod.

The moment you agreed, he lifted you up in a fireman’s carry, and walked over to the edge of the roof, facing Dick, who was still watching the two of you from that distance.

Before setting you down on the ledge, he gave your latex covered ass a slap, drawing out a moan from you.

“This ass is mine,” he spoke out loud, giving you another spank. He was addressing Dick, who was now standing up erect, hands curled into fists.

“Jason,” he heard Dick’s voice in his earpiece, “Stop.”

He ignored Dick and set you to sit down on the ledge, facing him. He gave you another searing kiss, relishing the taste of you while looking for the hidden zipper at the front of your suit. He zipped your front down and down, all the way to your belly button.

“Fuck,” he gasped, “Don’t you wear a bra out on patrols?”

He grabbed a fist full of your right breast and squeezed.

“The kevlar breastplate is enough support,” you explained, “I don’t need to wear a- ah!”

Jason had attacked your nipple with his mouth, sucking and nibbling on it while his hand massaged your other breast.

“Your tits are so fucking amazing,” he choked, “I always can’t get enough of them.”

He then licked your skin from the valley of your breasts all the way up to your neck.

“And the taste of your sweat is intoxicating,” he exhales.

“You’re being descriptive tonight,” you giggled.

Jason stood up straight and said with a sudden serious expression on his face, “I just want you to know everything I see, smell, taste, feel, and hear. I want you to know what you fucking do to me. I want you to know how I fucking worship you.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” your breath hitched at his words, and you pulled him in for another kiss, “Fuck me, Jason. Please.”

“Fuck,” he growled, “Get out of that suit and bend over. Put your hands on the ledge. I want Gotham to see your tits.”

“What the fuck, Jason,” Dick’s voice appeared in his ear again.

While you were busy taking off your suit, Jason glanced again at the building and zoomed in to Dick’s face. Jason could see his jaw clenching and unclenching, the fury in his scowl.

Yet, Dick still didn’t look away.

You were naked now, and you bent over, showing your ass to Jason, and unknowingly revealing your tits to Dick. Jason unzipped his pants and took his hard, leaking cock out, already extremely sensitive to the touch.

He lined the tip to your entrance, teasing you a bit and rubbing your leaking juices all over his cock. You moaned again softly.

Jason looked at Dick, and gave him a shit eating grin, and then plunged himself into your wet tight hole. The both of you groaned at the feeling.

“Fuck,” you bit your lips.

“Don’t hold back, princess,” Jason breathed, “I want you to be as loud as you can. I want to hear you scream my name.”

“Fuck!” you moaned louder when Jason slipped his cock out and then thrusted in again, bottoming out.

“That’s a good girl,” he praised you, “That’s my good girl.”

You whimpered.

“Are you ready, baby?” Jason asked you, not needing to clarify. You knew how he fucked. And you were always ready for it.

“Yes, Jason, please!” you cried.

Jason put both his hands on your hips, and then started pummeling into you like a fuck machine.

You gripped the ledge tight, and started screaming in pleasure.

“Fuck, your pussy always feels so good,” he panted while drilling into you.

Jason could imagine Dick’s view. He’s fucked you doggystyle in front of the mirror before. He knew how your tits would look like as he fucked you from behind- and it was a damn amazing view.

The adrenaline and ecstasy that Jason felt made him almost forget about everything.

“She’s fucking mine,” he accidentally roared before realising his mistake.

“I’m yours, Jason,” he heard you sob, apparently oblivious to his slip.

It made Jason bolder.

He stopped fucking you and you took out his cock from your pussy with a pop, making you whine in protest.

“Put your feet on the ledge, baby,” he ordered, “Squat on the ledge. I want to show off your cunt.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall,” he added when you looked back at him in worry.

He lifted you on the raised ledge, and snaked his arms around your waist, balancing you while you spread your legs in a squat.

Jason silently thanked his genes for making him tall enough to be able to fuck you in that position. He pushed in his cock and groaned into the crook of your neck, and then started to thrust up into you.

He let one hand down to your pussy and started circling your swollen nub with his finger while he continued to drill you.

“Fuck!” you screamed, “Jason! Fuck that feels amazing, don’t stop!”

“Whose pussy is this, baby?” he gave you a light slap on your clitoris, making you automatically clench on his cock even tighter, feeling the waves of electrical pleasure spark through his body.

“Yours, Jason, this pussy is yours,” you sobbed, completely giving into him.

“That’s right. This. Pussy. Is. Mine,” he slapped your cunt with every word.

“You’ve made your point, Jason,” he heard Dick grit in his ear. He chuckled into your neck at his victory. Jason knew that voice. It was the sound of his older brother breaking.

“Jason, please,” you begged, “I need to cum, please.”

“Okay, sweetheart, cum with me,” Jason started to thrust faster into you and rubbing your clitoris faster and faster. He felt you tighten around him, eliciting a long groan from him. The walls of your cunt was massaging and squeezing his shaft, his head was pushing against that spot he knew you made you go wild.

“Jason! Fuck, Jason! Jay! Fuck!” your screams and cries and sobs turned silent, and he felt your pussy flutter on his cock.

At the same time, Jason felt his peak approaching, heat spreading from his toes and black spots started to cloud his vision when he finally regained the sense to take his cock out and spill his cum all over your back in pulses.

You immediately fell back onto him from the ledge, legs weak. He caught you in his arms and chuckled into the hair on the top of you head, giving you a kiss there.

He pushed the button in his ear to disconnect the frequency with Dick. He made his point already.

Feeling suddenly exposed, you hurriedly put your suit back on and leaned into Jason’s chest in an embrace.

“That was amazing, baby girl,” Jason sighed, “Thank you.”

“Yeah, that was pretty awesome,” you grinned, “So where is he?”

Jason froze.

“What?”

“Dick, where’s Dick? Wasn’t this all for him?” you raised an eyebrow.

“You knew?” Jason gaped.

“Of course I knew, I’m not stupid,” you rolled your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Jason sputtered, “I shouldn’t have- I just wanted to- fuck, baby, I’m so-”

“Shh,” you held a finger to his lips, “I know you. You couldn’t just ask me to do this, what with your emotional constipation. I’m the same, remember?”

“Still,” he let out a breath, “I should have asked.”

“It’s okay,” you smiled sweetly at him, “You didn’t want to seem insecure. I get that. That’s why we’re together.”

Jason pursed his lips in worry, thinking how on Earth did he deserve such an amazing human being like you.

“Now where is he-” you put on your mask and started looking around, “Ah, there he- oh.”

You suddenly turned your head back, blushing furiously.

“Wha?” Jason looked over and zoomed to the building where he saw Dick leaning on the roof door to the stairwell of the building, his cock in his fists, furiously jerking himself off in obvious anger.

“I can’t blame him,” Jason chuckled, “We gave him quite a show.”

He saw that you were still blushing, your eyes wide.

“Babe,” he started slowly, tilting your chin up to look him in the eye, “Do you like the fact that my brother is jerking off to us fucking?”

“What? No- no, of course- no, he’s your-” you stuttered.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Jason coaxed you, “Come on, I know you like it when I watch you. I know you just like being watched. That’s okay.”

“Really?” you anxiously asked.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s Dick. As much as I hate him for wanting you, I trust him not to do anything. That’s why I was fine with showing you off to him. I just needed to claim my territory,” he gave you a wicked grin.

“I guess,” you said, unsure.

“You’re okay with me doing that just now? You’re not mad?” Jason asked again.

“No, I’m not. Like I said, I enjoyed it. I just- I just feel bad for enjoying it, you know?” you bit your lip.

Jason pulled you into another embrace, breathing in your scent.

“Don’t be. It’s who you are. And you know what? I like showing you off. You’re someone everyone wants but can’t have, because you’re mine,” Jason told you, “But only to Dick, though. I’m not sure if I want a stranger seeing you naked.”

“I wouldn’t want that too,” you agreed, “It’s fine because it’s Dick. I feel bad for him, though.”

“He deserves it,” Jason grit.

“He can’t help his feelings, Jason,” you frowned at him.

“I know, I know,” Jason sighed, “But I couldn’t help but claim you, as well.”

You smiled at him endearingly, the smile Jason loved so much.

“Don’t worry about it, Jay,” you pecked him on the lips, “It’s us against the world, remember? You and me. Always have been, always will.”

“Yeah,” Jason kissed you back, “Just you and me.”

[angiesimbot]

BLAIR 

 I clear my throat loudly before taking a step towards the microphone stand as my eyes sweep across the audience before me. My fingers tightly grasp the microphone to stop from shaking and my face burns as I struggle to smile through what would soon be a meltdown if I didn’t get a grip on myself. I then spot Lex standing off center along with Zackary. Both are grinning broadly, and Lex gives me a thumbs up for encouragement. I can read his mind from where I’m standing: Keep it short, smile so that you get more oxygen, speak from the heart and let the rest take over. It was always easy for him to appear confident, even during his lowest moments. He was a chameleon and easily modified his personality to fit any occasion; it was both a gift and a burden in my eyes. I do my best on channeling my husband as I begin. 

“Hello, everyone. I am Blair Hightower, the featured artist of the evening that Galileo’s Gallery  graciously chose to host tonight. I want to start off by apologizing for my lateness—hopefully I won’t be late for my own funeral too!” The crowd gives a few laughs and instantly I feel more relaxed.

“Thank you so much for coming here tonight. I see so many familiar faces in the crowd, some of which have helped me on along during my career from the moment I learned to pick up a paintbrush until now, even after I’ve mastered my craft. Although I’ve had many gallery showings over the years, tonight is very special for me. The theme of my show is Great Works, because I consider these pieces to be the best work I’ve completed in my entire life. I’ve borrowed inspiration from everywhere that you can imagine, but the most significant has come from the mundane moments where I feel at home the most: from flying kites this past summer in Rome with my twin siblings to watching an old movie on a rainy night with my husband, and even from taking bubble baths with my two kids. The world is a beautiful place with never-ending places to explore, but there really is no place that’s quite like home. So without further ado, please grab a glass and some refreshments, and make yourself at home.”  

I give a slight nod to the audience and, as if on cue, applause ripples throughout the venue. I smile as I place the microphone back into the stand before making my way off the stage. Zackary meets me near the stairs and smiles easily as I approach.  

“You done good,” he says. “Couldn’t even tell you were nervous.”

“Thanks. Where’s Lex?” I ask distractedly as my eyes scan the gallery. I hate being far from him. Zack shrugs and mumbles something about Lex going to find a drink. 

“Which reminds me, I have to leave soon. You two showing up late put me a little behind schedule.” 

“Oh? Hot date tonight?” I raise a critical eyebrow as I turn my attention back towards him. Zack was always elusive about his dating life so my interest was piqued.

He laughs and says, “Something like that. Anyway, I’m sure you’ve got people to meet. I hear there’s steak tartare bites at the bar. I guess I shouldn’t expect any less from an event of yours.” 

“No uh, don’t change the subject! Spill!”

“Soon,” Zack laughs. “I will soon.” He gives me a reassuring pat on the shoulder and a wink before heading into the direction of the bar. 

A few moments later, I find Lex entertaining Mayor Rivet and his wife Fernanda, a person whom Lex and I are very familiar with. She was one of many girls Lex had discarded before we had entered into a serious relationship. I ran into her often when visiting town and would always be inundated with fake pleasantries and questions concerning my family that were borderline interrogative. “How old are your kids now? How is Lex? Is your father is town or doing commissions  in Peru? Has your mother married that boyfriend of hers yet?” she’d ask in her shrill voice. My family had a longstanding relationship with Mayor Rivet, beginning with me being forced into stuffy dresses to attend his annual fundraising galas every summer since the age of five. Fernanda always had high expectations so it was no surprise that she’d managed to snag one of the wealthiest men in town.

“Fernanda, lovely to see you,” I say, smiling sweetly. I intertwine my fingers through Lex’s and give him a kiss before shaking Mayor Rivet’s hand. 

“You’ve done some great work here, Blair. Every year you surprise me more and more with your talents,” says Mayor Rivet. “In fact, Fernanda and I were just eyeing the bathtub canvas.” Fernanda nods and smiles as she looks me over, donning an expression I can’t quite place.

“Yes, I so enjoy the delicateness in your pieces. A trait I’m sure you inherited from your father,” she says.

Lex squeezes my hand as if he can read my mind and responds, “There’s no doubt that Bennet is amazing at what he does. Of course some of that natural talent rubbed off on her. But she’s put in a lot of hours to get this far.” He gives me a reassuring smile

“Well, of course,” Fernanda agrees. “It’d be a waste to not develop such a God given talent. That’s why I stand behind your decision to quit photography. Why be among a sea of measly photographers when you be an elite painter, well, one of the elite.” She gives me a wicked smile as the Mayor uncomfortably clears his throat before speaking.

“Now honey, Blair was a great photographer as well. I’m just glad she chose to continue her path of doing something she’s naturally gifted at too.”

“Photography was just a hobby of mine,” I interject curtly, my cheeks burning hotly. I am irritated at her badly veiled jabs that she always seemed to give. I’d resigned to ever winning her favor long ago due to the unspoken rivalry that was always brewing underneath the surface of our interactions because of Lex choosing me over her. Still, tolerating her was a necessary part of the social politicking that came with being a recognized figure in San Myshuno.  

I manage to plaster a big smile on my face before saying, “I tried to carve out my own path in life instead of following behind my father. But I guess you can say that eventually I reverted back to my roots. I like familiar things and people.” I give a little shrug before meeting the eyes of my adoring husband, who was once my high school sweetheart. They were glimmering more than usual tonight, likely due to the gin and tonic he’d downed on the way to the venue and the one he was currently nursing in his hand.

Fernanda gives a noncommittal grunt and says that she’ll have her assistant get in touch with me about the piece. And with a little wave of her skinny fingers, she and Mayor Rivet disappear into the crowd. 

I give a sigh of relief as my husband wraps me into his arms. He gives the side of my neck a small kiss and tells me that I did a good job. 

“In more ways than one, too,” he says, his lips teasing a small grin. 

“Ugh, she’s unbearable. I wonder what she gets out of being so rude?”

Lex’s eyes sweep the perimeter before he leans toward me and whispers, “You know she’s always been jealous of you. Word on the street is he’s been shooting blanks for years. You’d be cranky too if you had to deal with that.” He gives a swirl of his gin before taking a sip. “That’s what happens when you marry an old fuck.”

I wince at his familiar candidness, cognizant of the many important ears that could be eavesdropping. “Be nice.” 

“Hm? I’m always nice.”

“Yeah, to me,” I tease, wrapping my arms around his waist. 

“If you go to the back room with me then I’ll show you how nice I can be,” he whispers. His breath tickles my ear as lust courses through my veins at the mere thought of him inside of me for the second time tonight. I can still feel his cum packed neatly inside the folds of me from our earlier rendezvous. He aroused me too much for me to ever say no to him. 

“They’re going to be looking for me, you know,” I say, biting my lip. “We can’t stay away for long.” 

“As you wish. Lead the way, Mrs. Smith.”

[badwolf-in-the-impala]

~Whiskey Lullaby~

~Chapter 8~

||Previous Chapter ||

Image Credit: Me. Pictures not mine obviously, but the collage is.

Rating: Mature/18+

Warnings: Alcohol and drug abuse, violence, suggested sexual/physical abuse, kidnapping, sexual content, angst.

Chapter Warnings: None

A/N: Sorry it’s been a while since I updated last! I’ve had an insane case of writers block that has been kicking my ass. Anywho, I hope you enjoy! There’s a new character, Tawni, introduced in this chapter, portrayed by the lovely @jacksonroth, who actually came up with the idea of a cross over between her own SOA fic and this one! So hop on over and check out ‘This Charming Life’ and show her some love!

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Music blared from the speakers of the stereo she set up outside in the storage unit. Teagan moving outside to work on the Chevelle some more after finishing up the last of her stress cleaning endeavor, having taken it upon herself after the guys left to spend the rest of the morning elbows deep in reorganizing the entire bar and kitchen areas, using it as a way to distract herself from the anxiety that still loomed at the back of her mind.

Until Gemma came back in from the office at least, taken aback at first by how much Teagan had managed to accomplish in just a few short hours. “You need a better hobby, Sweetheart.” She had stated sarcastically as she poured herself some more coffee.

“C’mon now, out with you.” She shooed Teagan out the back the door. “Delivery guy just dropped off a shit load of parts for your car. Go do something more productive, that doesn’t end in me having to explain to Clay why the Clubhouse got redecorated!”

And now here she sat, unboxing and organizing parts in the order they needed to be used. Knowing she couldn’t get much done work wise without having a second pair of hands, and with everyone gone for the day she was burnt on actually accomplishing anything. As she stood, beginning to organize all her parts, dragging one of the tool boxes over, she jumped as the storage door rattled as it was slid up and opened.

“For fuck’s sake, Gemma! I’m fine in here! You didn't want me in the clubhouse, you didn't want me cleaning...what else is there to-” As Teagan ranted at ‘Gemma’ she ground the heels of her palms into her eyes as she turned. When she finally lowered her hands, the black spots soon fading, she stopped short, staring at the dark, curly haired woman smirking at her, green eyes burning in excitement.

“Last I checked,” She started, waltzing into the room, stepping over the scattered car parts. “I only looked like Gemma?”

“Holy fuck. Tawni! What the hell are you doing here?!” Teagan cried, making her way over to her and wrapping her arms around her neck, both women squealing in delight as they hugged.

“Well, I just got back from my trip.” Tawni said as she let go of her friend. “I was up in Washington for a while, checking on a few friends. I was going to come down with Kozik, but shit got tied up.” Tawni gave a shrug as she spoke, shoving her hands into her back pocket. Teagan chuckled and shook her head, stepping back to lean against the car with a sigh.

“Well, shit. It’s still good to see you.” Teagan sighed. Tawni smiled and nodded in return.

“Yeah, you too. When did you blow back into town?” Tawni asked, looking around at all the parts, picking up a few to inspect them. Teagan smirked and swiped the part from her hands, setting it aside with a snide smirk, making Tawni giggle.

“Is that supposed to be funny?” She teased. Tawni smirked, realizing what she meant.

“Hey, honey. If the boot fits?” She teased back as Teagan chuckled and shook her head.

“It’s a long fucking story.” Teagan stated, gesturing to her still healing face. “One that I’m fairly certain calls for a drink...or a bottle. That’s up to you.” She smirked.

Tawni gave a low whistle and stepped closer, touching her face gingerly. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Who the fuck did ye piss off, Teage?” Tawni asked, a subtle hint of her accent coming through.

“Some of Darby’s dipshit crew members...Bradley to be exact.” Teagan replied with a small sneer at the memory that was still fresh in her mind.

“Bradley. Tha’ fuckin’ snake. Hasn’ he gotten ‘imself killed yet?!” Tawni cried with a sneer of her own before she went to Teagan and slid her arms around her neck, pressing her cheek to hers. “‘M’sorry, babe. Wish I was here when it happened, I would have kicked his arse.”

Teagan chuckled in response and shooed Tawni away, making her giggle. “It’s cool...he’ll get what’s comin’ to him sooner or later.” She replied with a sly smirk. “You said hi to Gem yet?”

Tawni giggled and shook her head. “No. I saw your ‘Quinn’ girl parked out front where the other bikes usually are, and I had to come see you first.” Tawni giggled with a small smirk. “Besides, I see Gemma all the time. I’m nothing new.”

“Well, it’ll be a goddamn miracle she doesn’t call out the entire Charming Police force when she sees us walk in together.” Teagan gave a small laugh as she wrapped an arm around Tawni’s shoulder and tugged her forward towards the Clubhouse. Tawni laughed as well, sliding her arm around Teagan’s waist.

“Oh, please. We were not that bad...it was a few bitch fights, that’s all.” Tawni said. Her lips twisted up in a smirk as she added, “Besides, we were still friends after it.”

“True…except for that one time I hotwired the Principles car and we spent two days in Juvie. You didn’t speak to me for like a week.” Teagan mused with a thoughtful and mischievous grin. “But memory lane aside, it’s a shame I busted ass all morning cleaning the bar…’cause that shit’s about to get wrecked!”

Tawni tossed back her head and laughed, Teagan giggling as the two women walked and talked their way to the clubhouse. Gemma looked up at the sound and went to the door of the office, leaning against it, smirk on her face as she shook her head.

“Oh. Shit.” Gemma muttered.

~

It was late, around 2am, when the guys finally rolled back into the lot at Teller-Morrow, finding it extremely unusual when they noticed the loud music bumping from the Clubhouse the second they cut the engines of their bikes. A round of questioning glances making its way through the group.

“What in the hell is going on here?” Clay muttered in a disgruntled tone as they made their way to the door, pausing briefly just outside at the sounds of the loud drunken laughter that could be heard from inside over the music that was blaring. Clay turning to fix Tig with a glare, hand on the door waiting to open it.

“Why the hell you lookin’ at me?” Tig stated defensively.

“Maybe because she’s your Sister.” Clay ground out between clenched teeth, not in the mood to deal with whatever nonsense was happening on the other side of the door.

“Jesus…” Tig muttered under his breath as he stepped forward, Clay opening the door and gesturing for him to enter first as he stepped aside. Tig groaned outwardly at the scene that lay out before him as he stepped inside, shaking his head, the rest of the guys entering cautiously behind him.

“TIGGY!” The two women exclaimed -- Teagan with a little less enthusiasm -- from where they sat on the bar. Tawni climbing over the top of Teagan, using her as a foothold as she climbed down upon spotting her Uncle; Chibs. Hugging Tig briefly before nearly tackling the Scotsman that stood directly behind him.

“Jesus...are you high?” Tig questioned as he approached his Sister who was now struggling to climb down off the bar, watching as she slipped, landing on the floor with an audible ‘THUD’.

“Teagan…” She corrected drunkenly as he reached down and pulled her up, steadying her as she swayed a little. “And as a fuckin’ kite.”

“The hell you guys doin’ havin’ a party without us, anyway?” Jax inquired with a curious grin as he propped a elbow against the bar, plucking one of the half smoked blunts from an ashtray and relighting it to take a hit.

“T-Think of it as a loooong awaited reunion of BFF’s.” Tawni chimed in drunkenly before dissolving into a fit of uncontrollable giggles that Teagan soon became a part of. Tig turning to share a scathing look with Chibs.

“Aye, well, as lovely as tha’ is; party’s over. Time for bed Lassies.” Chibs stated as he ushered Tawni forward towards the hallway, ignoring both her and Teagan’s protesting, which was eventually silenced by a stern look from Clay.

“Fiiiiiiiiiiiine.” They both whined in unison.

“You two can continue your little ‘celebration’ some other time.” Clay stated flatly as he headed for the door of the Chapel. “But in the meantime, party’s over.”

~

“Looks like you two had quite a night.” Gemma stated sarcastically as she entered the Clubhouse to find both Teagan and Tawni, trash bags in hand, cleaning up their mess from the night before. Both girls groaning in disapproval at the intrusion of sunlight that the open door was providing as Gemma purposely held it open for longer than necessary.

“Don’t remind me…” Teagan all but gagged as she covered her mouth with the back of her hand, pausing her cleaning efforts for a moment as she struggled not to be sick. “I can still taste the tequila.”

“So I suppose a round o’whiskies is ou’ of the question this mornin’, then?” Chibs chimed in sarcastically as he rounded the corner of the hallway and entered the room, leaning up against the bar with an amused grin as he watched them.

“Why you gotta be like that?” Tawni whined as she turned to glare at her Uncle. His grin widening as he glanced behind her to find Teagan, staring him down what he assumed was supposed to be a menacing look, but her disheveled appearance only made it all the more amusing. Chibs coughing into his hand to cover up a laugh as she rolled her eyes and went back to cleaning up empty beer bottles as Tawni turned around to do the same.

“Well, as entertaining as this is,” Gemma mused as she passed through the room to the kitchen, no doubt heading for a cup of coffee. “I’ve got work to do. Which reminds me, there’s a couple of rigs need picking up in town, when you get the chance. I have the paperwork in the office.” She added, stopping in front a Chibs for a moment, giving him her own look before continuing on to the kitchen.

“Aye.” Chibs sighed as he pushed away from the bar and started towards the door. “Ye lassies try not to have too much fun now, ye hear.” He teased, ducking to avoid the stray boot that was aimed at his head by his Niece as she started shouting -- what Teagan only assumed to be expletives -- at him in Gaelic. Chibs’ laughter echoing through the Clubhouse, even after the door had swung shut behind him as he headed for the shop.

“I need a shower...and about eight more hours of sleep.” Tawni mumbled as she retrieved her boot, tugging it back on before returning to finish clearing off the bar, Teagan wiping it down behind her as they finished cleaning up in mutual silence for the sake of the roaring headaches that plagued them both from the previous nights events. Teagan finally taking a seat and resting her forehead against the coolness of the bar top when Gemma hollered at her from the kitchen.

“For the love of God...just put me out of my misery already.” Teagan groaned as she slid off of the barstool to see what Gem needed.

“As fun as that sounds, I feel like a shower is of greater priority at the moment.” Tawni gave a smirk as she patted Teagan on the back quickly before taking off down the hall to her room.

“Bitch!” Teagan yelled after her as she started for the kitchen, giving a small smirk of her own a Tawni yelled back,

“Jerk!”

Gemma was standing at the counter, piece of paper in hand, when Teagan rounded the corner. Grabbing herself a cup of coffee before leaning against the counter with an expectant look as she sipped at the contents of her mug. “You yelled?”

“Engine for your car finally came in.” Gemma stated matter of factly as she slid the piece of paper across the counter, Teagan picking it up to inspect the phone number that had been written on it, along with what time and where she could pick it up from. “I’m sure Ope would let you borrow his truck since Chibs won’t be back with the Tow-Truck for a while.

Teagan gave a nod and tucked the piece of paper into the back pocket of her jeans as she straightened and grabbed her coffee, taking a sip before she said, “Is Ope here yet?”

Gemma nodded with a sigh. “He should be. I think he’s heading out with Chibs. You might be able to catch him.” She said. Teagan gave a soft groan, not really wanting to have to chase the man down, but she would for the sake of her car. Teagan set her coffee down on the counter before rushing out, catching the tow truck just as it passed.

“Hey!” Teagan shouted, waving her hands to get their attention as she came up to the passenger window, Opie stopping the truck and rolling the window down. “Hey, Opie, can I borrow your truck? My engine came in and I want to go pick it up.”

“For the Chevelle? Shit, already?” Opie asked, throwing the truck in park as he dug through his pockets for his keys. Teagan lit up despite her headache, if only briefly, excited to get things going with her car.

“Well, I’ve been here for a few weeks already. I ordered it when I found out Tig kept the damn thing.” She shrugged in response, reaching in and swiping the keys from Opie’s outstretched hand. Opie chuckled and nodded.

“Just don’t fuck it up my truck?” Opie asked.

“Aye, are ye still drunk?” Chibs teased. Teagan narrowed her eyes at him, smirking as she gave a small shake of her head, pocketing the keys.

“No.” She scoffed playfully. “I’m hungover, not drunk. There’s a difference, Scotty.”

Chibs snickered as Opie put the truck back in drive, waiting for Teagan to step away. “Well, we’ll just have to see abou’ tha’ when I get back, won’ we?” He teased, his voice low so only Teagan could hear. Her lips pricked up as she fought the goofy grin that threatened to spread across her face.

“Don’t you two have work to do?” She teased back, stepping away before turning and going back to the clubhouse. Opie chuckled and shook his head as he drove off.

“Dude. Really? You’re gonna mess around with Raven? You do remember her, right?” Opie asked as they drove down the street. Chibs sighed and nodded.

“Aye. After’ las’ nigh’, seein’ her wit’ Tawni. I forgot how close they were before.” Chibs stated.

“And that still doesn’t change your mind? Or the fact that she’s Tig’s little sister?” Opie asked. Chibs scoffed, brushing the comment off.

“Och, i’s jus a bit’o fun. Nothin’ serious.” Chibs said, earning a snicker from Opie as he rolled his eyes..

“Right.”

~

Back in the clubhouse, Teagan still needed a little more of a pick me up, spiking her coffee with just a touch of whiskey, the thought of tequila making the back of her throat closing up in attempt to stop the threat of potentially throwing up. Tawni’s laughter perked her up a bit as she turned to see her walking down the hall with Juice. Teagan smirked and turned on the barstool, watching the pair, as she was still invisible to them for the time being.

“Come on, Tawn. You used to be as bad as the rest of us...you really don’t fight anymore?” Juice teased, grabbing a fistful of her side, making her squeak, laugh and jump as she turned to him, trying to pry his fingers away. She bit her lip as Juice moved his hands, Tawni’s hands around his wrists, pulling her closer as he moved his arms behind his back. Her laughter died off, slowly, as they got a little closer.

Teagan desperately wanted to witness this historical event, something that would make her ‘affair’ with Chibs pale in comparison to his precious niece flirting with a member, but she was still a decent enough friend that she cleared her throat, making her presence known and making the pair jump and move away from each other, both of them afraid it was Chibs. But Tawni sighed when she saw it was just Teagan.

“See? Even ask Teagan.” Juice said, diverting the moment as they approached the bar. “You can’t tell me you believe her, that she doesn’t fight anymore.”

Teagan shrugged.  “Well, I haven’t exactly been around lately, but...I believe her.”

Juice sighed and shook his head as Tawni went behind the bar, pulling out a beer and opening it before she handed it to him.

“I told you. You don’t see me as often anymore. I’m fucking mature, thank you.” Tawni giggled in reply as Teagan swung back around to the bar and leaned over her coffee cup with a soft groan. Tawni looked over her best friend and giggled. “Hey, I’m gonna hit the store. Gonna get some things to make my Nan’s hangover stew. Wanna come?”

Teagan shook her head and sat up, saying, “Nah. I have to go pick up my engine from the shop.”

Tawni gave a small pout, but shrugged it off and wiped down the bar, double checking everything before she left. The deviousness of Teagan’s mind began working as she sat back and added, “But, um...Juicy, why don’t you accompany her? I do still remember our dear, sweet, little Tawni likes company when she shops.”

“It’s called impulse control, and I’ve gotten a better hold on it, thank you...Bitch…” Tawni stated with a giggle. Teagan snickered and shrugged, going back to her coffee. Tawni glanced at Juice and said, “But I would like the company...especially being hungover.”

Juice smirked and set his beer down, leaning a little closer. “Yeah. Sure. I don’t have much to do today. I can come.” He said. Tawni bit her lip and smiled with a nod.

“Cool. I’ll go grab my stuff and meet you out front?” She said. Juice nodded and watched her as she walked off, letting out a heavy sigh as he smirked and bit his lower lip. Once she was out of sight, Juice chuckled and turned back to talk to Teagan, but stopped and jumped when he saw the fierce look she had fixed him with. He glanced around before he said, “What did I do?”

“Nothing...yet. Just make sure you’re well aware, that not only will Chibs kill you if he finds you with her, but I will break your face and cut off your balls if you ever hurt her…” Teagan threatened, making Juice’s eyes grow wide. “Don’t forget who I am, Juice.”

“No. Nope. No. Never. I-I promise.” Juice stumbled.

Teagan glared at him for a moment longer, then smirked and chirped, happily, “Good. Then have fun! Oh, and, if I were you, I’d make the first move? Tawni really wants to make good on her promise to Chibs about not messing around with members, but if you initiate, she won’t see it as her breaking the promise.”

Teagan giggled and wiggled her fingers at him as she left the clubhouse, with a little sing-song, “Have fun!”

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[mariequitecontrarie]

Love You Forever

Summary: Following the events of 6x19 the Black Fairy, Belle tucks Gideon into bed, and both Belle and Rumple reflect on having hope in the face of hard choices. A/N:  I have a lot of mixed emotions going into the finale, and this little Rumbelle/Gold Family fic hit me yesterday. I don’t usually go angsty, but I had to write it. For all the moms out there--Happy Mother’s Day.

ON AO3

“The things you love are like the puffs of a dandelion weed; they grow wild and happen as they will.” - Bette Lee Crosby

Belle trailed her fingertips across Gideon’s forehead, basking in the simple pleasure of watching her son sleep for the first time. His breath was deep and even, his face serene. The tiny lines around his eyes were smooth, giving him the appearance of a young boy, rather than a man.

It seemed impossible her baby was the same age as she. Experienced parents had told her children grew up in the blink of an eye, but this was ridiculous even for Storybrooke.

Belle pressed her fingers to her mouth, suppressing a delighted giggle. Gideon was a sound sleeper, but not a quiet one. His hair stood on end, the way Rumple’s often did when he woke in the morning. Two huge feet poked out from beneath the covers, further affirmation her son was too tall and strong to share a bed with his mother. Every so often he rolled over, snorting as he resettled on the mattress. Belle pushed up from the pillow and tucked the comforter around his legs. Earlier tonight, when Rumple had ushered them toward the stairs and urged them to go to bed, she couldn’t resist his suggestion that she stretch out beside Gideon, ease him into his first night of being home.

Their son had been the one to reach out and join hands, seeking reassurance. “Stay until I sleep, Mother?” he murmured, his eyelids drooping.

Belle bit back a sob at his childlike request and clung to him with all her might. No power in hell or any realm could have kept her away.

A fresh tear fell onto the sheets, and Belle’s mind wandered to the dog-eared copy of the children’s book Love You Forever in the library. In the story, a determined mother drives across town to slip into her grown son’s room and rock him to sleep. “I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always, As long as I’m living My baby you’ll be.”

Her smile was bittersweet as she recited the title verse. No matter how high he towered over his parents, Gideon would always be their baby. Yet he was also a man full-grown, and the wound of knowing how much she and Rumple missed was a savage gnaw.

Mother hunger wracked her, the pain more acute from seeing Zelena with her baby girl yesterday. After she’d spent those few precious hours rocking, cooing, and playing with little Robin, she’d locked herself in the tiny shop bathroom and sobbed. They could protect Gideon from Emma, retrieve his heart, even banish the Black Fairy, but they couldn’t recover his childhood.

They would never watch his mouth form around his first word, run a finger over the sharp point of a baby tooth pushing through his gums, or encourage him to take his first steps on square, chubby feet. Belle hadn’t been there to kiss his scrapes and boo-boos when he fell, or to teach him to read, or fly a kite. Rumple had missed the chance to show him magic, push him on the swings, and to teach him the fine art of the spinning wheel. Though perhaps for a few of those joys, it wasn’t too late.

Rumple. Since the night they learned Gideon had been taken, her husband had been stoic and sure, her strength and hope in the face of the unthinkable. Belle’s heart ached for his suffering, and she felt his agonized choice as though it were her own. What he’d done tonight, facing his mother, was beyond courageous. Learning Fiona had loved him, discovering his true destiny as a savior—she couldn’t imagine grappling with so much and banishing his mother all in one evening, even after the torture the Black Fairy had put Gideon through.

Could she have done the same?

Gideon snorted in his sleep, and Belle slipped out of bed and pressed a kiss to his cool forehead. “Love you forever,” she whispered, then tiptoed into the hallway and closed the door.

xoxo

Rumplestiltskin stared into the fire while he nursed a glass of whisky. The papers he’d thrown onto the hearth to ignite the embers blackened and curled, consumed by the heat.

He’d done what was necessary tonight—foiled Emma and the heroes, then slid the truth past Belle and Gideon. A flicker of something in his son’s eyes told him Gideon suspected more was at stake than what he’d revealed. Clever boy.

Rumple tossed the rest of his drink back, hissing when the liquid scalded his parched throat. Offering his mother the farce of allegiance was the only way to get their son’s heart back. Emma, Regina and the others cared only for their own survival, not whether their boy was made whole. He’d meant what he said, about putting Belle and Gideon first. He would protect them when the Final Battle came, or he would die trying.

Until then, he could only pray his family would understand his choice.

“Hey.” Belle padded across the carpet to kneel in front of him, and she tilted her chin up, her gaze questioning. A moonbeam stretched across the room, making her eyes silvery, and the long white nightdress she wore shimmered in the creamy light. She looked far too young to be the mother of a twenty-eight year old man.

“Hey.” He caressed her cheek, then dropped his hand back into his lap. “I thought you’d be asleep.”

She smiled, soft and sad, and shook her head. “How can I rest when I know you’re hurting?”

She removed the empty whisky tumbler from his grip and set it on the floor beside his chair. She took his hand, and he rose, allowing her to lead him up the stairs like a child, the way she had guided Gideon upstairs earlier. He turned to her as they passed the closed door next to their room. “Our son?”

“Sleeping…like a baby.” She blanched in the dim light, and the cliché’s full meaning hit him like a punch in the stomach.

“Oh, sweetheart…” He pulled her against his side and they shuffled into their bedroom in lockstep.

“It’s all right. He’s home now, thanks to you.” She smiled through trembling lips and his heart caught, as it always did when she looked at him that way. Open and trusting. Believing the best. His brave, darling girl.

Bone-weary, he sank down on the edge of the bed and groaned, contemplating going to bed with his clothes on. He reached down to at least remove his shoes, but she brushed his clumsy fingers aside and untied the laces. “Belle, what…”

“Shhhh. You’ve been taking care of everyone, Rumple,” she admonished, easing his wingtips off his feet. “Gideon. Me. Let me take care of you tonight. Please?”

He nodded his assent, then leaned back on his elbows while she removed his shoes and socks, tie and trousers. They traded labored sighs and crawled into bed together, exhausted.

“Come here,” she urged, drawing him against her breast.

He didn’t have the strength or will to fight her as she eased them back against the pillows and stroked his back. It felt wonderful to be held, to be wrapped in Belle’s loving embrace. This time together was their solace at the end of long, difficult days, but the lie of omission between them was an ugly, twisted thing.

The Black Fairy was unpredictable, bent on destruction, and he had no idea what manner of traps lay behind her saccharine promises of a happy family with a happy ending. What if he’d guessed wrong? What if life was about to get worse…again?

He opened his mouth to tell Belle the truth.

“Rumple?” She kissed the top of his head and massaged his scalp with the heel of her hand.

“Hmmm?” His eyes slipped closed as her fingers traveled downward, to circle his temples. All he wanted was to forget, pretend a little while longer.

“What did you promise her in exchange for Gideon’s heart?” Belle’s voice was soft, void of accusation.

He opened his eyes with a jerk, his body tensing, but she was still holding him close, and he didn’t move out of her embrace. “You knew?”

“It took me longer than it should’ve to figure it out, but yes.” She sounded disappointed with herself.

“Belle, I…” He rolled over to his side of the bed, turning to face her. Where to begin, to explain? He searched for words, but there was nothing to offer but weak excuses.

“I’m not angry.” She shook her head and smiled. “I’m…a little relieved, actually.”

“Relieved? After what she did to Gideon?” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Whatever she’s done, she is still your mother. You found out a lot about yourself today. A lot of things you’ve believed for many years you now know aren’t true. That you were born to be a coward, a villain.” She shook her head. “Your mother loved you; she wanted you. She made terrible choices, but so have I, so have you. She believed she was doing it all for you. If after learning so much about who your mother really was when you were born, you had been able to kill her without another thought? That’s not who you are.”

He clenched his teeth. “I should have been stronger. I could have…”

“Rumple, no.” She gripped his fingers with both hands, her wedding ring digging into his flesh. “This was a battle for Gideon’s heart, and a warrior never emerges from a battle victorious without sacrifice.”

“Warrior?” He laughed, the sound bitter and discordant in the peaceful room. “The things I’ve done…”

“The things you’ve done have saved this family.” She nodded, resolute. “You did it for Gideon, for us. And now he has his heart. He’s sleeping next door. Safe.”

He released her hands and collapsed against the pillows, exasperated to the point of tears. “How do you do it?” he asked, amazed at her perspective. “Time and again. Aren’t you sick of it, Belle? Of me and this endless cycle of pain I drag you through?”

“I promised forever. So did you.”

“Ages ago. Before…” He swallowed a sob. Gods, he was tired.

She wiggled over on the mattress until she was half on top of him, then molded her lips to his. The kiss tasted like tears and hope.

She squeezed his shoulders. “Forever doesn’t give up. Forever doesn’t turn around and walk away when things get hard or when change comes.” She rolled them over, cradling his head against her chest once more. “Let it out. Go ahead and cry if you want to. There’s no shame here, Rumple. She’s your mother.”

The dam broke at her urging and he sobbed out the pain of the last several months. He cried for Neal, for the lost years with Gideon, for the father who hated him, for the suffering he caused Belle, and for the mother he’d barely known. He cried for his sins, and for the lengthy years when hate was his lone companion. He cried for what he’d done, and what he still had to do.

He was aware of Belle rocking him, heard the breathy nonsense she cooed into his ears, and he sobbed until there were no tears left, until he had poured out every drop of guilt, fear, and misery. When it was over, he felt weightless and free, and overwhelmed with the need to sleep.

“Rest now.” Belle caressed his back as he shut his groggy eyes. “I’m here. I’ll always be here. I choose you. I choose love.”

It was a benediction, a healing balm, and as he slipped into sleep, her words washed over him and renewed his spirit. He’d heard Belle’s confession of love countless times, but he never really believed it. Tonight, after learning where he came from, seeing the pattern of mistakes made generation after generation, he did. He didn’t have to be the coward, or the villain, or the beast. His mother’s choices didn’t have to be his. He could choose something else for his family. Something different. Something better.

Tonight he could do what Belle never failed to do. He could choose love.

Myriad troubles remained, but he knew who he was. Husband. Father. Savior.

“Love you forever,” he whispered.

###

[insert-something-funy-here]

LOOK AT THEM!!! TURITOPULIS' LOCAL MENACES!!!!!

HRGRHRGRGRGRGR (BRAD'S THE ACTUAL MENACE BETWEEN THE TWO OF THEM BUT JAY GETS UP TO SHENANIGANS TOO, THEY'RE BOTH BLOXY COLA ADDICTS)

[sickdaysofficial]

Not Your Sweetheart

17 August – Public Illness

<a href=“https://mohini-musing.tumblr.com/”>@MohiniMusing</a>

Fandom:  Marvel’s Avengers

Warnings: emeto, hurt/comfort, drug use, implied previous physical abuse, foster care

Summary : I’m blaming this one on my fervent hatred for all forms of spinning carnival death traps, okay guys? Also possibly on not nearly enough hours of sleep this week. Pick one. Either way, have some teenage Tasha and James from the Chasing Ghosts story verse and a bit of a losing battle against the rides.

~~

James doesn’t usually give a shit about the broken kids who filter in and out of the home he’s going to age out of in another year. Tasha’s unique, though. She’s sharp tongued, quick to rise to a fight and equally quick to win them decisively.  He hasn’t quite figured out what her damage is, but she keeps it wrapped up tight and deep. It’s not a coping strategy he’s unfamiliar with. What he does know is that she’s not looked this much like a kid in the six months since she arrived with a duffle worth of stuff and a thousand yard stare.

“Come on, Jamie,” she tells him as she meets him outside the ladies room, giggling when he scowls at the diminutive of his name. Everyone else finds his scowl frightening. Tasha seems to actually enjoy provoking it.

She grabs his hand and pulls him back into line for what may very well be the hundredth time on a roller coaster that was probably cutting edge twenty years ago when it was built. Now, it’s a rattling line of cars trundling along a track that he hopes has been inspected recently enough to be sure it won’t come apart mid-descent. Tasha loves it.

He follows along with her, and she leans against him while they wait in the line. Her pupils are blown and she sniffles a little every so often. James politely ignores the fact that she’s high, has been since they arrived, and is probably going to be until they are close enough to leaving to risk the adults in the care home noticing. She’s happy, and that’s rare enough that he doesn’t much care how she got there.

She’s such a kid like this, giggling herself breathless as the ride takes them swooping down and around a couple loops and a few short corkscrews. Whatever is running through her veins makes it tricky for her to stand well when they climb out of the car this time. He wraps an arm around her waist to steady her, whispering in her ear to pull it together when she stumbles. He deposits her on a bench with orders to stay put and goes to grab soda. It’s not so much that he thinks it will sober her up as that he’s fairly certain she hasn’t bothered to eat recently and crappy blood sugar can’t possibly be doing her any favors.

She grumbles when he returns but sips at the fizzy sugared syrup obediently. She’s starting to settle in a bit, less giddy but definitely not quite sober either. It’s a better state of mind for her and one that makes James a lot less nervous that she’s going to get them caught. She hands the cup back to him after finishing better than half of it and asks if they can go ride something else. She sounds nervous, and he claps a hand on her shoulder to break the tension there. Instead, she startles and he remembers the bruises on her skin half a year ago.

“Hey,” he says, drawing out the vowel in an effort to calm her. “It’s all good, Tash. What do you want to hit next?”

She shakes her head, as if trying to clear it and the mask falls almost instantly into place. A bright smile that goes nowhere near her eyes is suddenly plastered across her face. “Monster?” she asks, gesturing toward the ridiculously named mass of swirling black metal.

“Sure, kid,” he tells her.

She promptly punches him in the arm. It’s not exactly gentle, either. Tasha hates a lot of things, but being called a kid is pretty high on the list.

“Fine, fine, not a fucking kid. That better not leave a mark, you beast!”

They head for the spinning monstrosity and are in a little black capsule within a few minutes. Once the ride gets going, the capsule is spinning on itself at the same time the entire behemoth is rotating around the fenced enclosure. Tasha’s back to giggling maniacally, and when she demands a second ride immediately after they exit, he goes with it.

He half expects her to ask again when they disembark the next time, but she reaches for and grips his forearm tight enough that her nails are digging into the skin a few feet outside the gates.

“You okay?”

“Just, little dizzy,” she mumbles.

He wraps an arm around her back to steady her and guides her toward a bench, pressing her onto the seat and keeping a grip on one of her slim biceps to keep her from falling sideways. A close look at her eyes reveals that while the dilation is much less than earlier, they’ve started a rhythmic back and forth twitch. <i> Nystagmus, <i> a mostly dormant part of his brain supplies. He remembers it from a health class, maybe? Something he read at some point? At any rate, Tasha’s eyes are jerking back and forth and she’s biting her lower lip, hard. He crouches so that he’s near eye level with her.

“Give me some input, here? You gonna pass out on me or something?”

She shakes her head and grimaces, closing her eyes as she shudders. There’s a distinct sheen of moisture at her hairline now, and the color is draining from her face in a hurry.

“Do you think you’re going to be sick?” he asks.

That gets another shake of her head, but the frantic swallowing isn’t giving him much confidence. There’s no time to get her anywhere near a trash can before she lurches forward. A couple soft belches give way to a groaning heave, and the soda he coaxed into her is spattering the ground a second after he thinks to jump out of the way. She coughs and sputters for a few minutes before her body figures out that she’s empty.

James rubs her back, one hand keeping the wisps of hair that escaped her ponytail away from her face. “You good now?” he asks.

“Still feel gross,” she stammers, eyes looking up at him with the most vulnerable expression he thinks he has ever seen on her.

“Think we can get you to a bathroom?” he tries.  Not that he cares who’s looking, but people are definitely staring at the hurling redhead and he’s fairly certain she’s not going to appreciate the audience once she’s a bit more aware of it.

Tasha shakes her head miserably, crossing her arms around her stomach and bending so far in half her head is nearly against her knees. She pants harshly a few times before bringing up the remains of whatever she ate that morning. When she tapers down into empty heaves, James pats her back awkwardly until it’s finally over. 

“Think m’done,” she finally tells him, lifting her head and wiping at her mouth with the back of one wrist.

“Let’s go get you cleaned up,” he tells her, levering her to her feet and guiding her toward the nearest restroom. He ignores the glares from a couple parent looking people as he ushers her into the one designated for families. She drops into a heap over the toilet almost the moment he lets go of her and retches up what James is pretty sure must be nothing but bile at this point.

He kneels beside her, cupping one hand under her forehead to keep her from sticking her face in the bowl while keeping the other hand at the small of her back. “Shhh, Tasha, sweetheart, you’re empty. Breathe for me, yeah? You’ve got to settle down.”

“Not your fucking sweetheart,” she growls back, before leaning back on her heels and promptly falling against James.

“Course not. You’re my fucking idiot who should really, really know better than to ride the vomitron high as a kite,” he tells her.

It’s the second time she punches him for the day and this time it’s probably going to leave a mark.