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ohbuckie · 3 years

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FLUORESCENT ADOLESCENT

college!bucky x reader

summary: bucky fucks you on his bedroom floor.

warnings: smut, fingering, unprotected sex

word count: 2.3k

masterlist

Bucky’s room is at the end of the hall. It’s decorated simply—white rug in the center of the floor, a desk sharing a wall with the door, a few posters littering the walls, a dresser across from the bed in the corner of the room. His bed frame is metal and cheap; flimsy, to say the least. He holds onto it while he fucks you—arm outstretched above your head, trying desperately to keep it from slamming against the wall and using the leverage it gives him to pound into you harder.

His friends’ rooms are both attached to his, with their common wall being the front one that the door is on. Sam and Steve have gotten used to banging on the walls of their bedroom in protest of the loud sex happening on the other side, or even sitting in the hallway and knocking on the door. Of course, this means nothing to Bucky, who could probably ignore a category seven earthquake in order to finish. He’s nothing if not thorough.

He tries to be considerate. He plays music loudly—something with lots of bass, to drown out at least a little bit of the sound—but it renders itself useless in between every song, when both of the guys can hear every sound the two of you make. Good sleep is a lost cause in apartment 4B.

Arriving home from a double date with your roommate, you let your jacket—Bucky’s, actually—fall from your shoulders, and you catch it in your hands to hang it up by the door. You kick off your shoes, run your fingers through your hair, find your boyfriend who scurried away to the kitchen, plant a kiss on his lips.

“That was fun.” You say, running your hands up his chest, remembering how he kissed you in the cab on the way here. He smiles and leans on the counter with the heels of his palms, with you in between his arms, in front of his chest.

His lips find yours, and you cup his cheeks in your hands, accepting the tongue that he runs along your lower lip. He tastes like the red wine that he had with his dinner and smells like the expensive cologne that you gifted him last Christmas.

“I don’t think the guys are home.” He says against your mouth, and you smile, breaking the kiss and practically running down the hallway.

He follows you to his bedroom, his hand making contact with your ass, leaving it stinging while you twist the knob and push the door open. He beats you to the bed, sitting on the edge with his legs open, waiting for you to climb onto his lap. You straddle him, feeling his arms wrap around your waist and his lips attach to your neck, delivering wet, hot kisses to your throat and collarbones. He runs his hands over your body—along your shoulder blades, down your spine, across your lower back—appreciating the figure-hugging black minidress that you’re wearing.

You lean forward to push him onto his back, catching yourself on your hands, which are positioned on either side of his head. You grind against his lap and he flips you onto your back in response, rolling his hips into yours.

You kiss like pornstars, swapping saliva between your mouths through tongues and clashing teeth, sucking and biting at plush lips. With his hips between your thighs, your dress inches further up your legs, making your red thong visible.

Your hands are free, and you use this opportunity to pull his shirt out of his pants and unbutton it until it’s open. The two sides hang down, exposing the top of his prosthetic arm and the outrageously defined muscles of his torso.

“Bucky.” You breathe, lips wetly separating from his.

“You okay?”

You nod. “Just want you.”

He chuckles teasingly, nudging your chin upwards with his nose and kissing down to your chest. You arch your back into him, pushing your fingers into the hair at the base of his head.

The room is dark, except for the animated screensaver of the open laptop of his desk and the moonlight that pours through the blinds perfectly, casting rigid bars of light across the wall opposite the bed. You reach to the nightstand beside you, pulling the cord on the lamp and wincing when it turns on as you’re staring at the bulb.

He pulls away and gathers himself, licking his lips and pushing hair from his forehead while he catches his breath. He looks up at you and smiles sweetly, kissing your cheek before standing from the bed and unbuckling his belt, unbuttoning his slacks, pulling the zipper down, shoving them past his thighs. His belt hits the floor with a jingle and he steps out of the pants that are now pooled around his ankles. Dark gray briefs are revealed, and you appreciate how nicely they cling to his legs and ass. You remember an earlier comment from him about “fancy underwear,” and you giggle to yourself when you realize that this is what he was talking about.

“What’s funny?”

“‘Fancy underwear.’” You repeat to him, and he cracks a smile before he steps over to you to get back to business.

Instead of removing your dress, he pushes it up past your hips, harshly pulling your panties down and out of his way. He kneels in front of you and kisses your inner thighs, moving up to your pussy, ghosting over it with his lips for a moment before pressing a delicate kiss to your clit, his eyes trained on yours. His gaze remains unwavering when he licks a stripe up your entire pussy. His tongue pushes between your folds and applies pressure to your sensitive bud, and you both moan—you at the sensation and him at the taste.

“Buck.” You whine. “Please.”

“Please, what?”

“Please fuck me.”

He sighs, disappointed that he can’t eat you out. Not that he isn’t excited to fuck you.

He stands and steps out of his underwear, tossing them behind his right shoulder. His cock stands against his stomach, seemingly thrilled to be freed from its fabric prison. You can’t take your eyes off of it—pretty and pink, fairly long and definitely thick enough.

He spreads his large hand over your lower stomach and lets his thumb hover over your bundle of nerves, keeping it still, for now. He gives his cock a few pumps, holding it just below the head to line it up with your entrance. He looks at you while he pushes in, because he loves the way that your eyes squeeze shut and your hips wiggle to get more comfortable with his intrusion.

He chews on his bottom lip, waiting until you stop clenching and fluttering around him before he moves. When he does, you reach to the hand on your stomach and hold his wrist tightly. He uses his other hand to put your right leg over his left shoulder, the cold metal of his mechanical hand at variance with your hot skin. You take the initiative to put your other leg up on your own.

His movements are less of a rhythmic roll and more of a pistoning in and out of you, giving you what you begged him for only a moment ago. At first, the thrusts are shallow, but after about a minute he can’t help himself anymore. With every jerk of his hips, his cock slams against a spot inside of you that only he has ever reached—although you’d never tell him that, because you’re too proud to admit that he can make you feel better than you ever could yourself.

When you let go of his wrist, he withdraws his hand, licking his thumb before putting it back where it was and putting it to use. He draws small circles into your clit, just like you taught him to do when you first started dating. You buck your hips up and it makes him smile, and you want to smack that look off of his face. You hate that he knows exactly how good he makes you feel.

You tighten around him when you study his concentrated face—how his brows furrow and he licks his lips.

“Feel good?”

“Yes.” Your voice is strained by desire.

“Good.” He mumbles, and starts to put a little more behind every thrust. He pulls almost all the way out before pushing back in, and the slapping noises that your skin makes upon contact with him is obscene. The bed frame squeaks as it rocks, and it hits the wall over and over again, at a moderate-but-still-annoying volume.

Loud knocking on the closed door startles you, but doesn’t phase Bucky.

“What?” He asks, not stopping, or even so much as looking in the direction of the interruption at the door.

Sam’s raised voice is on the other side. “At least put on the music, man. I’m tired.”

“Yeah, okay, fine. Go away.” Bucky replies. Footsteps descend and a door closes. Bucky pauses his movements, clearly annoyed, to lean over and fish his phone out of the pocket of the pants that he let fall to the floor earlier. He thanks God for Bluetooth when it automatically connects to the speaker that lives on his desk, and all he has to do is press play. He tosses the phone onto the mattress, lets it bounce behind your head, and picks up where he left off.

The music is loud enough to drown out the squeaking and the slapping, but definitely not the bed hitting the wall. You can’t bring yourself to care, because the circles against your clit are growing bigger and faster, and your eyes are rolling back into your head.

“Fu-u-uck.” You moan, syllables choppy from the way that you’re being fucked.

“You’re so hot.” He mutters, letting a breathy moan slip out after his words.

Something hits the part of the wall that Steve’s room is behind, and you both can hear shouting. “Shut up!”

Neither of you respond.

A familiar feeling pools in your lower stomach, tightening and threatening to spill. “I’m so close, Buck.”

You tense around him, squeezing his cock and surely bringing him close, too. He pulls out suddenly, but quickly replaces his dick with two of his fingers, curling them against the upper wall of the inside of your pussy. It shoves you violently over the edge, and you cum with a moan that rips through your chest and leaves your throat burning. His fingers continue to move through your orgasm and he watches your legs tremble, kissing your calves that are still rested beside his head.

“You good?”

You only nod.

“We’re being too loud on the bed. Get on the floor.” He orders, and you breathe through your nose, exhaling through your mouth before you stand on wobbly legs. Before you lower yourself to the floor, covered by his pristinely clean, white rug, he clarifies, “Hands and knees.”

The bass of the music booms through your chest, reverberates through your bones, echoes through your head. You feel him kneel behind you, putting one foot onto the floor for balance. You wish you could see him right now—shirt open, sweaty chest heaving, cock standing at attention, ready to fuck you to completion for the second time. He tilts his head down and you can hear him spit onto his dick before shoving it back into you, exercising no restraint.

Your head bows between your shoulders, and you try not to be too loud, because Sam and Steve hardly ever let you hear the end of it when you do, but Bucky’s making it extremely difficult. He’s taking what he wants now, since he’s already made you cum.

His hands hold your hips like they’re handles, yanking your body backwards onto his cock at the same time that he’s ramming into you. His breathing is heavy, and you close your eyes to picture his face right now. A piece of hair over his forehead, fallen from the gelled mass atop his head, jaw tight, abs tensing. That’s what he usually looks like, anyway, when he’s fucking you into oblivion. It’s an image that’s forever burned behind your eyelids.

His hips are moving bruisingly fast, bringing you closer to another orgasm. It’s actually more like you’re being dragged behind a pick-up truck that’s approaching a cliff and is showing no signs of stopping.

It takes only a hard clench to throw off his rhythm and have him cumming inside of you, scrambling to blindly locate your clit with only his fingertips so that you can finish together. He rolls it between his fingers, rubs haphazardly, and gets lucky when you cry out that you’re there again.

“Bucky! Oh, fuck!” Your knees sting from the rug beneath them, and your hands make a fist around the strings between your fingers. “Oh my God.”

He pulls out slowly, kissing down your spine while his warm seed spills out of you, trickling down your leg.

You lay on your back on the floor, much too tired to stand, and watch him pull his briefs back up, on a mission to dampen a face cloth to wipe you down with. He comes back with one, and wipes the cum from your legs and pussy, leaving small kisses in the wake of the warm water that refreshes you.

He gives a final kiss to your lower stomach before he tosses the cloth in the direction of his hamper. He lays beside you on the floor, taking your face in his metal hand and pressing sweet kisses to your cheeks and forehead and chin.

It's silent for a moment, before he decides, "I need to invest in a sturdier bed."

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan smut #bucky barnes fluff #sebastian stan fluff

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timextoxhajima · 3 years

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Nevertheless: Wishful Thinking [3]

[completed] [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

synopsis: why would the college flirt want anything to do with the innocent heartbreaker? a [somewhat] nevertheless au featuring tbz's eric son young jae

genre [per chapter]: suggestive material, smut *this series is a smut series so* please don't read if you're uncomfy. if you're underaged and you still wanna read, i'm not stopping you. i don't care because that's your responsibility to know what's fiction and what's not.

word count: i genuinely don't fucking know i think it's at least 4k WHY THE FUCK IS IT GETTING LONG ERJSJSJSJDNAKD

taglist: @from-xero @taeyongandfree @ten-gift @louvyves @sweetutopia @yyyereum @jung-breadshop @sunwoowuvbot @mashedpotittiess

protip: links of BGM are linked~

{this is a work of fiction}

eric swipes his thumb across his bottom lip and drags his index finger over the tip of his nose, tongue still sucking on his teeth as if it hadn't already been a day.

he was sitting on the other side of the tutorial room and you just so happened sat in a spot where he was the first person in your view when you looked up.

stupid hexagonal tables.

the moisture in your mouth suddenly evaporates, leaving your tongue dry like sandpaper against the roof of your mouth.

the lustful blanket over his eyes threaten to rip your mentality apart, and even without him touching you, the heat in your abdomen starts to clench and throb.

the thought crosses your mind, just so you can convince yourself: if eric can associate himself with sex within your primal instincts then the brain that got you here can associate him with a big, fucking, red flag.

you suck in a deep breath and hold it for awhile, eyes plastered to the ipad under your palms. crossing your legs tightly, your jeans hug your hips and waist all too perfectly.

yujeong had smacked one of her baseball friends earlier that day for staring at your legs.

after the likes of wooseok's party and the incident yesterday, you made it an effort not to show up in dresses or skirts anymore. call it ptsd, call it trauma, call it not wanting to get into trouble.

whatever it was, you didn't want eric anywhere near you.

well, despite how good he mad-

"can you stop eye-fucking him from across the room?" yujeong harshly whispers at you, glaring at you from the corner of her eyes.

"what?" throwing your tied-up hair to your other shoulder, you tilt your face to her.

"what do you mean 'what'?" yujeong hisses, nodding to the boy across the room. "y'all are fucking in your heads!"

"yes, broadcast it to the entire class, would you, please?" the sarcasm drips off your tongue with a frown.

"I'm just saying if you want him so bad then just go get a room. fucks' sake, go find a practice room or something."

"i think I'll go with 'or something'."

and in that second, your iPad lights up with a notification from the school email account.

yujeong parts her lips with a retort, but you quickly shush her by pressing a finger to your lips when the professor seemed to glance over at the two of you.

she inhales a deep breath, spotting the notification pop up on her laptop screen too.

to: all students

from: the college union

title: dance union winter getaway

dear students,

every year, more than 200 students apply for the dance union but only 20 are accepted. thus, it is of high regard that the members of the dance union utilise the annual winter getaway to bond.

this year's event will be held at lake white. all students in the dance union with leadership positions are expected to be present and those with valid reasons of absence are required to fill up the form attached to this email.

if you're interested in joining the dance union, please apply in the first week of the new academic year. applications open first week of the semester.

regards,

the student union

staring wide-eyed at the email with your apple pencil trembling in your fingers, you gulp.

fuck.

yujeong's lowly snicker sounds from next to you, and you look to her, only to watch a bright smile stretch across her face.

"what?" she snorts, tears in her eyes. "don't look at me. look at your captain."

your neck snaps to the boy across the room, who's got his phone lifted with the screen displaying the email page. he waves it around a little, raising a brow with a menacing shimmer flashing across his eyes.

your blood begins to boil without reason.

why were you suddenly stuck to him? it's like the planets and stars aligned just so he glue himself to you; so he could ruin your title and rip you apart, inch by inch.

your fists clench around the apple pencil, and you're only snapped out of your inner rage when the professor calls on you.

yujeong leans into the lockers with her books against her chest, mindlessly scrolling through her phone as you go on incessantly about the student union's decision to make it mandatory.

you swing the locker door so hard that it bounces off its limit and nearly comes back down onto your hands, but you stop it before it does.

"how does the fucking winter getaway improve our bonds?" you hurl a textbook into the locker. "it's not like we're gonna sit in a circle and sing hallelujah, right?"

"you went for that getaway last year-"

"yeah, and we did nothing besides getting shitfaced! fuck this stupid winter getaway."

"sis, say that any louder and your 'innocent heartbreaker' image is gonna change into something more like 'brutal heartbreaker'."

"don't fucking call me that," you hurl another book into your locker. "and why does everybody talk like that nowadays? 'say that any louder'? where was that from? a movie? a tiktok?"

"why are you so on edge?" yujeong pushes herself off the metal doors and frowns. "you've been on edge ever since wooseok's party."

"i am always on edge."

"what?" yujeong pulls her lips up into a slight wince as her eyes half into squints. "bullshit. what happened to your little 'innocent heartbr-"

"don't," you lift a finger, shutting your eyes and stopping her. "say another word."

yujeong raises both her brows, smirk plastered to her face as she readjusts her bag. "don't worry."

you look up at her, placing the last item in your locker.

"i don't have to."

"what?"

"so," then that godforsaken voice rings from behind you, and all your physical senses start to shut down one by one.

yujeong sees right past it, smirk turning into something less devious as she puffs her cheeks.

"about the winter getaway."

"i'll leave the two of you at it."

"what? no-"

"bye!"

"yujeong-"

she turns and strides off, short hair lathered around her neck. she waves with a bright grin, leaving you to back face the vicious heartbreaker.

you remain rooted to the ground, locker door wide open and bag slung around your right shoulder. eric waits until yujeong disappears down the hall, leaving a few other students within the vicinity to turn and stare at the two infamous dance captains.

eric walks to your side, reaching out and resting his palm on the outer edge of your locker.

"we're in open space," he smiles, gradually pushing the locker door inwards and closing it for you. then he rests his palm against the metal door, sandwiching you again. "there's not much i can do to you."

a few students turn to stare.

"unless you want me to."

"stop it."

"stop what?" he smirks and buckles his arms, forcing you to lay your back flat against the metal surface. "I'm not doing anything."

"then what are you doing now?" you frown and look up at him, knuckles whitening around your bag straps.

"having a conversation."

someone fishes a phone out, and the flashlight flickers.

eric whirls around, keeping his arm anchored to the locker.

"stand down, kid."

"sorry," he fumbles with the phone, and now you'll never know if he actually took a picture.

"anyway-"

"look, i don't know what kind of game you're playing but this isn't healthy for us if we are supposed to work together. especially with the winter getaway coming up."

eric licks his lips and lowers his head, smiling at the sudden cast of professionalism.

"it flatters me that you don't care too much about having fucked outside of wooseok's garage-"

"eric-"

"nor getting fucked out in the practice room-"

"eric-"

"or even the fact that you tied up your hair today-"

"i tie up my hair whenever i fucking want to."

"ooh," eric winces at the snap, his pearly whites glimmering under the lighting. "the 'innocent heartbreaker' is angry!"

"will you shut the fuck up?"

"aw," he coos, leaning into you and breathing down your philtrum. "make me."

your fists finally clench, jaws locked and temples tightened.

"I'll rip off your dick if you touch me again. now, back off."

you press your palms flat into his chest and shove him away, breaking him into light chuckles as he stumbles back.

you pull your bag back onto your shoulder, turning sharply and stomping off.

"hey! we still need to meet up to discuss the plans for lake white!"

the scent of half-painted canvases with acrylic paint washes through your nose when you enter your room.

it's definitely bigger than what a normal room should look like, but it's not your fault that both your parents work under Lee Enterprises, the country's telemarketing company.

the studio corner of your room is in a mess, and you're just halfway done painting the edges of your mirror.

which for specific reasons, you can't really look at it anymore.

the peculiar object you chose to decorate the glass surface hang idly on the corner of the frame, reflecting the afternoon sun spilling into the room.

eric son: so when do we discuss the plans for lake white?

eric son: i don't like to procrastinate

"'discuss the plans for lake white'," mumbling under your breath, you dump your bag into the corner of your room, huffing and resting your hands on your hips. "he's the damn captain, isn't he? he can do it on his own."

notification: acrylic paint to be delivered today

your phone automatically links up with the bluetooth speaker in the room, and you mindlessly tap on the shuffle button before pulling off your shoes.

eric son: okay so I'm thinking groups of four

you pull off your jacket and let the ends of your ponytail brush across your back where the camisole doesn't cover, cool air rushing across the hairs on your skin.

eric son: we can play truth or dare

the bass rumbles through the flooring as you pull off your jeans, throwing on one of those open-holed shorts that no one was ever going to see you in - not even yujeong.

the doorbell rings, yanking you out of your mental rage session over eric son.

acrylic paint.

picking up a cardigan and tying it around your waist, you jog down the stairs and pull open the door without hesitation.

She's just that type of girl

"what. in the world. are you doing here?"

eric tilts his head to the side, his eyes running the length of your body - all the way down to your feet and back up.

"you weren't replying my texts so i thought-" then he raises both hands from his sides, taking a step back and gesturing to your front porch like he owned it. "what better way to have your presence than to go to you?"

"how do you know where i live?" a frown befalls your brows, and your grip tightens on the door handle.

"it's in the school records for student leaders," he offers you a smug shrug, taking a step back to where he was previously standing.

your lips part in an attempt to challenge his explanation, but then he waves it off with a cheeky snicker. "I'm joking. yujeong told me."

"now, why the fuck would she give you my address?"

"hey, captain to captain! plus she knows i won't hurt you."

a scoff runs off your tongue. "you want me to believe that you won't hurt me?"

eric's tongue darts across his lips as he leans on the door frame. "not in your house. oh, i wouldn't dare, princess."

with a huff, you blink away the eye contact first, taking a step back and tugging on the door. "don't fucking call me that."

but his hand flies out and thuds against the wood, keeping the door open. he slowly steps forward, letting himself in.

"then what should i call you?"

"names exist," you step back and grip onto the empty arms of your cardigan around your waist. he closes the door, pulling the chain to lock it.

"then do you prefer y/n or 'innocent heartbreaker'?"

you squint at him, cocking your face at an angle as you back up again.

the answer settles in your head, but you can't say it out loud.

because he's already debunked it.

She's just that type of girl

"fun playlist," eric nods up the stairs, arm stretching out to you and snaking around your waist.

"don't fucking touch me-"

then his other hand circles you as well, his arms around you as he holds you to him, lowering his face into yours. an arching back tries to keep his face off yours, but any more and your spine would've snapped into two.

his nose presses into your cheek as he slots his lips between yours, and the world goes into a muffled silence for a few seconds.

or maybe that was just your playlist moving on.

your nails dig the inside of your clenched palm, fists against his chest as he pulls you up to deepen the kiss, lips moving with yours in some intricate dance of dominance.

on beat with the distant bass coming from your room.

he lets out the first groan, his hands gradually sliding down your back and groping the flesh of your rear that's poking out from under your shorts.

the harsh grip squeezes a whimper out from you, your entire body cringing forward into him and closing the gap between you. with one palm still holding onto your ass, the other comes back up in between your shoulder blades, keeping your chest plastered to his.

eric turns you around, holding you against the wall that leads up to the stairs. your back is flat against the surface, hair stuck to the felt of the wall with your thigh being pulled up over his pelvis.

We should just calm down and fuck some time

then he pulls away and huffs, lips hung wide open and his eyes completely lost in yours. in a low growl, subtly shakes his head as if to disapprove your disobedience against the song lyrics.

"oh, we fucking should."

eric doesn't bother waiting for a response before dipping his nose into your jaw, lips latching onto the tender skin of your neck.

"you coming here-" a jolt of bliss rushes through you when he finds a tender spot, his arms tightening around your waist to keep you close and against the wall. "-was not an invitation-"

the cologne on his clothes starts to intoxicate you like alcohol does to any normal person, the scent of his hair and his clothes wafting and shuffling all around you.

"but you don't hate me being here, do you, princess?" he mumbles into your skin, nipping at the spot behind your lobe. your eyes flutter shut, fists clenching against his shoulder blades.

"come on," he whispers. "we've done it outside and in a practice room, surely you must feel more comfortable in your own bed?"

your eyes widen upon the suggestion, the thought of that cursed object hanging over the corner of your mirror in the room suddenly pulling your soul back into your body.

"no, we can't."

eric pulls away from you, lips reddened from the nipping. they are apart, and his breathing slows as he studies your face.

the panic in your eyes is far too grave for him to miss.

"why not?"

gulp.

"you don't happen to-"

"it's not a vibrator."

eric raises his brows, caging you between his arms as he corners you further, chest on yours and his lips right above your lashes.

"perhaps a-"

"it's not a dildo either."

he pouts in slight disappointment when he can hear the stark honesty in your voice.

his chest rises and lowers under his shirt, listening to your breathing that hitches in your throat every now and then; observing your discipline to keep your eyes away from him.

"you're not gonna tell me what it is?"

glaring at him through the corner of your eye, you shake your head with a resounding 'no'.

he pauses.

then he leans into your ear.

"you being scared is just making me a little more curious, princess."

"curiosity kills the cat."

eric pulls away and slides his arms off the wall. "cats have 9 lives."

the number of sirens that go off in your head spikes, and before you can process his words, he grabs your arm and pulls you onto his shoulder.

"oh my god!" his arm wraps around your lower back, knees against his chest and the world from your eyes upside down as he hoists you up the stairs. "put me down, jesus christ!"

"the more you yell, the more you're gonna regret it, princess," he warns while chuckling to himself. "what could it be, if it's not a dildo or a vibrator?"

then the warmth of his palm reaches up to your shorts, and his fingers dig under the cloth of your underwear.

"fuck, eric-"

all too easily, he pushes a finger into you, your entire body cringing from the sudden intrusion. your eyes blur out just as he makes it to the second floor, and he doesn't need to ask which door he should be heading to.

not when your door has a framed portrait of yourself from last year's concert.

the door creaks open when he pushes the two of you into your room, greeting the sunlight drawn across the floor and his finger still buried inside you.

you heave a sigh when he pulls his finger out and shoves it into his mouth, leaning over your bed to rest you into the cushion.

automatically, his eyes are on high alert, scanning your room. but by the time you've regained your senses and the blood's returned to the rest of your body from your head, he finds it.

resting on the back of your forearms, your breath turns shakey and your eyes twitching from the sight of it dangling off his fingers.

eric turns to look at the mirror, turning the item in his fingers to match the painting of it on the edges.

"so," he returns to you, raising a cocky brow and smirking. "you get high off painting handcuffs on your mirror?"

you tightly shut your eyes as the frown cements into your forehead.

"fuck."

eric scoffs, tongue dragging across his upper lip as he walks towards you and lifts a knee to your bed, the other following.

"this really makes me question how you even got your reputation," eric jingles it from his fingers, his free hand reaching down to draw circles on your right ankle.

"it's just acrylic paint. i paint something new every month-"

"and so your choice for november was... handcuffs?" he wraps his hot fingers around your ankle and yanks you downwards, your crotch nearly meeting his knees.

"it's not my fault you decided to play this game the month i decided to get something remotely inappropriate."

"'remotely inappropriate'," eric repeats, smiling as he lowers himself. the handcuff still within his right hand, his left draws trails up your right leg, playing with the rim of your shorts where they were already riled up enough to expose a bit of your underwear. "so, tell me princess. why did you choose this-"

he holds it up and jingles it over your nose. "to paint?"

"surely it's not because it's pretty."

"or maybe you think it'll look pretty around your wrists?"

eric reaches for your hands and you struggle upon instinct, he pins your dominant hand down first and clips the first cuff around your wrist.

"eric-"

he finds your free hand and connects both your wrists, clipping the other cuff despite your struggling.

eric sucks a deep breath, then parts his lips to exhale. pushing himself off you, he pulls your shorts off first, eyes trailing across every inch of your body with your wrists cuffed together.

the thoughts wash through you involuntarily.

the wooden planks. the dress. the torn underwear.

the mirror. the fogging. the skirt.

the tears collect in the corners of your eyes even before he can completely get it off your ankles.

then he pulls your legs apart for him to lock them in place with his own thighs, crouching over your body like a lion devouring his prey.

he pushes your arms up and above your head, making it difficult for you to bring them back down with your wrists bound together.

his breath is hot on your chest where he first dips his nose into, tongue swiping across the skin of your heaving ribs. hands coming up your waist and pushing them up your torso, it exposes your ribcage and bra.

inch by inch, he breaths down the length of your torso, from your chest and over to your stomach with your camisole rolled up messily over your bra.

upon reaching the rim of your underwear (and heaving stomach as you pant and huff in a bid to calm your nerves), he stops and looks up at you.

"thank god you rejected wooseok."

then both his hands come down to your chest to rip apart your camisole, pulling it out from under you before he unbuckles your bra.

you swallow the first whimper already on the tip of your tongue, but your stomach plunges and your back arches violently when he takes the tip of your breast between his lips.

left hand coming round to grip your other, his right travels down to play with your sensitivity, forcing your body into subtle jolts with the overwhelming sensation.

he tugs on your tip, grazing it between his teeth before releasing it and latching his lips onto the tender flesh in a bid to make his mark.

your brows finally furrow into a frown of bliss, jaw hung agape though struggling to contain the lewd noises prancing about in the back of your throat.

he rolls the other tip between his index finger and thumb, sucking and kissing the reddening flesh of your chest.

and down below, he's pushed your underwear aside, thumb abusing your sensitivity and buckling your hips upwards.

he provides you one sharp bite on your tip, earning a strained hiss from between your teeth. it feeds his pride, for he removes himself off you completely and stares down at you, admiring the painting he's made on your chest.

hickeys.

grip marks.

and the wet patch on your underwear between your legs.

he turns and shifts off the bed, leaving you to catch your breath and cross your legs over one another.

the clacking about in your studio corner drives the tears into your eyes, listening to the lid of the box where you keep your paint come off.

you shut your eyes, resigning to fate.

for your body is in burning need and the discipline to go against his word has betrayed you.

you hear his belt come undone, the weight of his clothes hitting the carpeted ground before the mattress around your legs sink again.

"oh... princess~" he sings, coaxing you out of your mental begging that this was just a nightmare.

a corner drags across your stomach, and your eyes fly open to see his fingers wrapped around a bottle of acrylic paint, completely oblivious to him pulling your underwear off your legs.

black.

the only color that was still relatively abundant.

then the sight of his nudity drives you up a wall inside your head; better yet, driving your resignation up against your own skull.

the lines of his pelvic bone leading down to his manhood all for your eyes to feast on, and even if you wanted to look away, you couldn't.

fuck.

"listen to me very carefully, princess..." he shakes the bottle, then proceeds to unscrew the cap. "I'm sure you don't want any of these on your bed, right?"

chills run through your body when he tilts the bottle over, squeezing the paint onto his palms.

"so," he blinks back to you, eyes wide and cautious. "my advice?"

and with that, he carefully caps the bottle, effortlessly tossing it over his shoulder and back into the box.

he presses his palms together, spreading the paint across his skin.

"don't move too much."

with a wide grin, he smudges the paint into your thighs and up your stomach, sliding the paint all the way to your breasts where he offers a harsh grip.

he doesn't give you a chance to respond to that before he slides himself into you, your neediness allowing him entrance far too easily.

by now, your body was somewhat conditioned to recognise his size, but the idea of him buried deep inside you and his groaning coating the room makes you a little more feral; a little more insane.

the whimper that runs off your tongue is mercilessly lapped up by him when he leans over to kiss you, tongue shoved into your mouth in a bid to shut you up.

he rolls his hips back and forth, unwilling to stop and definitely unwilling to give you any kind of mercy when it comes to making you lose your grip on reality.

he pulls away and resumes an upright position, abs flexed and his palms still gripping onto your chest like his life depended on it.

but eric seems to be a little on edge himself, for this was his first time seeing all of you under him, instead of your humility covered by a dress or a skirt and worrying about being caught in school.

no.

now, he can feast his eyes on you like the predator he is.

not only does he decide to leave his own marks, but marks that you gave him access to.

his handprints are black on your skin and the entire bed is jerking along with every thrust he's offering you.

you finally let out a strained cry, tears collecting in your eyes with the bliss rushing through you over and over again like a broken record. eric's breath turns shaky, and his grip on you begins to loosen when his thighs start to convulse.

by some miracle, the last thrust hits your climax and he pulls out almost immediately after to coat the paint on your stomach with himself.

cream on black.

eric huffs arrogantly, taking deep breaths to retain his breathing as he releases you, stepping back to take in the sight of you in your own bed, ruined by him.

"you definitely look pretty in cuffs."

#nevertheless: wishful thinking #eric smut #the boyz smut #tbz smut #eric sohn smut #eric scenarios #eric imagines #the boyz scenarios #the boyz imagines #tbz scenarios #tbz imagines #eric x reader #eric sohn x reader #the boyz x reader #this was too filthy

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 4 years

Text

𝑺𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝑫𝒐𝒘𝒏 (𝑲𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒀𝒆𝒐𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒈) 𝑹𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅

Pairing: BFF! Kang Yeosang (Ateez)/ BFF! Reader (Female)

Genre: Smut, Slight Angst, Fluff, Non Idol! AU.

Synopsis: Yeosang decides to show and prove to his best friend that slow and sensual sex is superior to rough fucking.

Word Count: Around 3-4K

Warnings: Mentions of smoking/drinking, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, nipple play, semi-drunk sex, sex taping (with consent), sweet vanilla sex with music/ led lights in the background, protective sex that transitions to unprotected (always do safe sex), creampie, best friend/ non-romantic relationship (?)

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"Room for one more?"

Turning her head in the direction of the deep, husky voice next to her, Y/N shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't really care. Not my place anyhow."

She lifted the almost finished cigarette to her lips. Taking a small puff of it, she blew out the smoke with then turned back to the dark brown male that had now taken a seat next to her on the porch.

"Want the last one?" She held up her cancer stick for him to take.

"No thanks." He shook his head.

Y/N scoffed at that. "What? Not hard enough for someone like you?"

Throwing the tiny butt onto the ground, she didn't care at all to put it out. Rolling his eyes, Yeosang extended his leg to finish the task of making sure she didn't set anything on fire.

"Sucker." Y/N repeated what she'd often call him.

"Dumbass." He counteracted her attack with his own nickname for her.

"Why are you even out here? Wouldn't you rather be inside and join in on the fun?" She asked him.

Picking up a nearby stick, Yeosang began drawing random shapes on the ground below him.

"What do you classify as fun? I mean, besides destroying your lungs and aging faster."

"Haha, you're so fucking hilarious." Y/N replied sarcastically.

"As if you're any better Yeo. I'm surprised you're not stumbling back to your shitty apartment with either Hwa or Joong helping your wasted ass."

"Need I remind you that you practically live in my so called 'shitty' apartment cause your roommate can't stand you at the dorms." He snorted at her.

"It's not that she can stand me! I can't stand her bringing her douche boyfriend in the middle of the night or at odd hours of the day just so they can fuck each other's brains out!" She exclaimed in frustration.

Smirking at her, Yeosang couldn't help himself as he said:

"Maybe you should get your brain fucked out once in a while. Might help you be a little less bitchy."

Y/N scoffed.

"I'm not bitchy and I certainly don't need it."

"Your face says you do. Like seriously Y/N, when was the last time you got a good fuck? Let me guess. Probably 8 months ago when you let Youngbin pound you behind the bleachers?" He laughed at her.

"Ok! You know what?! Fuck you Yeosang! I can't believe you brought that up!"

Standing up, she began to storm away from him, away from the party and decided to just go to the nearest bus stop so she could go hide under her bed and pretend she didn't exist. Crossing her arms over her chest, she shivered slightly when a slight breeze blew against her. But still she continued walking, not paying attention to the voice calling out for her from behind. She had gotten a block away from where she was when she heard the sound of something scraping against the pavement behind her.

"You're hard to find." Yeosang came up next to her, his feet firmly planted on the skateboard under him.

"And you're hard to get rid of." She threw a passive aggressive smile in his direction.

"Listen..." Shifting the board to the left, he blocked her from walking any further.

"I'm sorry ok? I didn't mean to upset you." He apologized.

"You didn't really upset me.....I just hate bringing that jerk up again."

Yeosang chuckled at her pouty expression. Getting off the skateboard, he kicked down on one of the sides, making it fly up so he could catch it with his hand and tuck it under his elbow.

"Come on. Wanna hang out at my place tonight?" He offered.

"Still got leftover booze from last time?" She asked in anticipation.

"Now who's the alcoholic here snip?"

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It was well past 11 and Y/N had already downed more than half the bottle of the hard liquor. She lifted the glass up again to her lips when she was stopped by her friend beside her.

"Easy tiger. I think you've had more than enough."

Taking the bottle away from her, he wiped the top off before taking a quick gulp before setting it down somewhere next to him.

"I'm not even drunk yet.." Y/N mumbled out.

"Certainly not, but you're definitely not sober. So I'd say you're just a tad bit tipsy."

Y/N shoved him with her shoulder when he tried to lean his head on her.

"No. Go away. I'm still mad at you." She barked at him, clicking her tongue in annoyance.

"So I take it I'm sleeping on the couch again?" Yeosang raised an eyebrow at her.

"Well I certainly aren't. Shit's uncomfortable af."

Standing up, she threw her crop sweater over her head and tossed it somewhere in the room, her black shorts soon following after. Yeosang barely batted an eyelash at his friend's actions, so used to her walking around half naked around his place.

Slumping down on the bed, she reached into Yeosang's dresser and opened the drawer, knowing she'd find his stash of tootsie pops in it. Picking out a cherry flavored one, she unwrapped it and popped it in her mouth, discarding the wrapper on the waste bin a few feet away from her. Turning on her back, she hummed softly before taking the lollipop out of her mouth momentarily to pat on the empty space next to her and say:

"Sangie, come here. I wanna cuddle."

Yeosang grumbled at her words.

"Whatever happened to me sleeping on the couch?"

"Never said you should. Now come on." She repeated at him.

Yeosang sighed in disbelief, seriously questioning why he even put up with his friend for so long. Removing his plaid pullover hoodie and black skinny jeans, leaving him in just a plain white T-shirt and his black briefs, he slid down next to Y/N and wrapped one of his arms around her waist.

"Happy now?" He inquired of her.

Y/N shifted a little so that they ended up in a more comfortable spooning position.

"Yeah I guess." She murmered softly.

Yeosang began to draw circles across her hip, occasionally pulling the side of her black panty and making it snap against her skin, making Y/N swat his hand away whenever he did.

"Can I have some?" Yeosang gestured to the candy in her mouth.

Pulling it out with a loud 'popping' noise, Y/N held it out for him to take. Putting it in his mouth, Yeosang sucked in it briefly then took a small bite out of it before handing it back to her.

"Heathen." Y/N derided him when she saw the mutilated lollipop.

"Puss." He snickered at her.

They laid there in silence for a few minutes, the only sound coming from them was the occasional sighs or hums that would elude from their mouths. Getting tired and bored of the painful lack of noise, Yeosang reached for his phone and connected it to his bluetooth speakers. Scrolling through his playlist, he smiled smugly as he found the one song he had been listening a lot to lately and did not hesitate to start playing it. Y/N jolted a little when the blaring of trumpets resonated through the room.

"Jesus fucking christ, why must it start in such an unholy manner?" She complained as she shifted a little in Yeosang's embrace.

Yeosang couldn't help but laugh softly.

"And you know that's not the unholy part about it."

Y/N couldn't help but smile at the sincerity of his words and especially not when the first verses started.

~Tell me what it is you wanna know

Finish up the bottle then we'll go, babe~

"Speaking of which, we didn't finish our bottle."

Y/N made a move to get up, but Yeosang pulled her back down, this time making her lay on top of him.

"Kang Yeosang!" She grunted at him, eyebrows furrowing at him.

"Snippy pants." He winked at her then placed a kiss to her nose.

His hands began to travel down the curve of her lower back, momentarily resting on her ass, his fingers digging into her soft skin.

~I'm too phased, it's too late

But coming down is all I ever do, babe, yeah~

"Pervert." Y/N accused him when he slapped her ass lightly.

"You weren't complaining when Youngbin-"

Y/N silenced him with a kiss to his lips, her tongue running across his upper lip. Yeosang tried to capture her tongue with his teeth, but she pulled back before he got the chance, making him whine softly.

"Mention that atrocity one more time and I will blow up your dick." She threatened him.

Yeosang couldn't help but poke fun at her.

"I wouldn't necessarily say no. I've heard your blowjob stories."

Y/N smacked his chest.

"What?! You think guys don't talk about it around me? They don't hold back just because we're close." He ruffled her hair.

"What about you? How come I never hear any stories from you? Is our little Sangie an actual saint?" She jeered at him.

Yeosang smiled softly, his hands pulling on Y/N's bra strap.

"First of all, let me assure you I'm not little.."

Lifting his hips up slightly, he grinded against her so she could feel his semi hard on. Y/N widened her eyes momentarily, her subconscious wishing he'd repeat the action one more time.

"And I'm not a saint. I'm just not as promiscuous as the other guys, that are into rough fucking all the girls in our class." He explained as he moved Y/N's strap so it fell off her shoulder.

Y/N couldn't help but look at him incredulous.

"Seriously? Getting fucked like a pornstar is one of the best feelings ever. Best kind of sex there is."

"I beg to differ babygirl. I find it to be completely overrated." He mused softly before placing a kiss to her exposed shoulder.

~And I'm so down if you're ready

I'm floating but I'm heavy

And I'll show you if you let me, girl~

"So what? You mean to tell me vanilla sex is better?" She rolled her eyes.

Yeosang couldn't help the mischievous smile that formed on his sculpture like face.

"It's not just better.....it's superior."

Yeosang's hand grabbed the remote next to his lamp, which he promptly turned off. Clicking on the first button, the room instantly illuminated a dark red from the LED lights that Yeosang had installed when he first moved into the apartment.

"Want me to show you?"

Y/N hadn't even responded but Yeosang was already unclasping her bra. His hands caressed her exposed back as he patiently waited for her answer. Feeling brave, Y/N sat up to let the garment fall off her body and onto the floor. She looked back to see Yeosang's reaction. He bit his lip, his hands gripping the sheets beneath him in an effort to contain himself from touching her before she gave her consent.

Y/N leaned down, her hand cupping his chin.

"Show me then."

Closing the distance between them, she kissed him tenderly. Yeosang hummed into the kiss, his fingers tucking a side of her hair behind her ear.

~I don't know if you already know how

But girl, I got the feeling that you know now~

Yeosang's tongue pressed against her bottom lip, making Y/N chuckle, but nonetheless granted him access to her mouth. Holding the sides of her neck, Yeosang swirled his tongue inside her, before pulling her own into his mouth to gently suck on it.

"Hehet....you smell like alcohol." He said in between their makeup session.

"Shut up and kiss me you dork."

She pulled him back in and deepened their kiss, her mouth hungrily and sloppily kissing his, her lips trailing across his chin and jaw at times.

"Fuck. How desperate are you?" Yeosang asked.

"A whole lot, now can you fucking stop being the ass you are and get on with it?" She pleaded with him.

In a flash, Yeosang flipped her onto her back. Burying his face in her neck, he placed open mouth kisses across it until he found exactly what he was looking for when Y/N's breath hitched.

"Found you."

Yeosang began to suck onto the sensitive patch of skin he had discovered. Y/N tilted her head to give him better access, which he took complete advantage of. Yeosang only pulled away after making sure there'd be a crimson red mark for anyone to see the following days. Satisfied with his work, he moved further south and began to kiss down her sternum, his hands going from her hips to her waist.

His lips went from kissing in between the valley of her breasts, to gliding over and taking one of her perky nipples into his mouth. His other hand made sure that its twin wasn't left unattended as he pinched and played with it delicately between his long and slender fingers. Without realizing it, Y/N arched her back, making Yeosang smile against her skin.

"You're definitely enjoying this." He teased her, biting faintly on her tiny bud.

"Sh-shut up..." She mumbled.

"And I haven't even gotten to the fun part."

Yeosang dragged his mouth painfully slow down her stomach, placing open mouth kisses on several parts of her skin. Once, he reached her belly button, he couldn't help but feel a little playful. Pressing his face down, he blew against her skin, causing her to squeak and giggle at the vibrations.

"Sangie!" She gushed at him and his awfully cute action.

"Sorry." He apologized but the sparkle in his eyes indicated he was anything but.

When he realized he was in between her legs, only a piece of fabric separating him from her most intimate place, he looked back up at her, mentally asking her if she still wanted to continue. Maybe it was the partially drunk part of her brain or maybe it was the sober part, either way, Y/N nudged Yeosang with her knee, urging him to do something.

Getting the hint, Yeosang grabbed the sides of her panties and began to rid her of them. Y/N lifted herself up so the process was easier for him, and even parted her legs for him, her neediness wanting him to just do as he pleased.

Yeosang inhaled and exhaled sharply as he stared down at his best friend's glistening and almost dripping core, the astonishment and lust in his stare quite unmistakable. His hands wrapped themselves on the back of her knees, his body leaning closer to get a better look at her.

"Well?" Y/N chuckled when he stayed dumb for a while.

Smiling an ironically pure smile, Yeosang didn't take his gaze off from between her legs as he responded:

"It's pretty.......so fucking pretty."

Turning his head, he kissed her right knee tenderly, dragging his lips around it. Eventually, he began kissing up her inner thighs, both of them, leaving no spot unattended. Y/N began to breath more rapidly as she watched him earnestly inch closer and closer to her lips.

"Oh-oh..."

Y/N gasped when Yeosang dragged the tip of his nose up her slit, making sure to press down on her clit.

"Fuck! You smell absolutely delicious babe."

Releasing her knees, he brought his fingers up so they could spread her folds apart so he could glide his wet muscle up and taste a bit of her. Yeosang couldn't get enough of her taste, as shown by his relentless effort in licking and sucking at her clit. One of his fingers began prodding at her entrance, swirling around and finally sinking inside her.

"Fucking hell Y/N, you're so tight and you're already sucking in one of my fingers. Seriously how long have you not gotten any dick?" He inquired as he added a second finger, beginning to scissor them inside her.

"Too. Fucking. Long."

Shutting her eyes, her hands went to Yeosang's hair and began pulling at it, her hips pressing against his face.

"Yeosangie..... help me..." She whined at him.

Paying attention to her needs, Yeosang buried his face in her heat once again, sucking and lapping enthusiastically, moaning occasionally as his 2 fingers slid in and out of her at a moderate pace. Y/N's chest began rising up and down, she could feel herself getting closer and closer to spilling all over her friend's face. The thought of her actually cumming in Yeosang's mouth riled her up more than she'd ever think it would. Yeosang felt her walls tightening around his fingers, clear indication she was about to cum. Being the teasing asshole he was, he pulled his fingers out and detached his mouth from her core, panting slowly from having been eating her out so passionately, some of her arousal smeared on his chin, upper lip and even on his nose.

"What the hell you jerk!?"

Y/N sat up, fully committed to smack him across the face, but he gripped her wrists as he forced her back down.

"Calm down Y/N, I promise you'll be cumming soon."

Leaning in, he kissed her forehead lovingly, sending flutters down her body. Her hand placed itself on his chest.

"Off." Although it was technically an order, she meant it more as a request.

Yeosang pulled his shirt over his head, allowing Y/N to gawked at his lean but toned abs and muscles.

"Fuck.......when did you start working out skater boi?"

Yeosang blushed and giggled shyly.

"Around the same time you began showing off your legs a lot more."

Y/N watched in anticipation as he began to remove his boxers. She widened her eyes when she saw her long time friend's cock slap against his stomach, the tip already leaking out precum.

"Holy shit. You weren't kidding when you said you weren't little." She complimented him.

Y/N reached out to try and grab it in her hand, but Yeosang swatted her hand away.

"You can suck my cock another time. Right now though, I'm dying to have it inside your tight hole."

Y/N clenched at the mere thought of having such a good looking cock inside her. She'd never outwardly admit it, but she always had a thing for visual stimulation and above average dicks.

Opening the drawer, Yeosang took out a condom and ripped it open with his teeth, soon rolling it onto his length. He slowly lowered his body on top of hers, kissing her softly as he aligned himself at her entrance. With a roll of his hips, he slid inside her, both of them moaning loudly. Yeosang let a few seconds pass before he began rolling his hips, starting at a slow and steady pace that matched the rhythm of the music playing in the background. His face hid in her neck, biting and kissing at her shoulders as his hands kept her waist firmly planted on the mattress.

"Fuck, you feel amazing Y/N." He whispered against her ear, making her sigh blissfully.

Wanting to dote on her more, he began spurting out a relay of compliments.

"You look so beautiful like this baby. Fuck! I wish I could capture this moment forever."

Feeling bold, Y/N held out her hand and began tapping around until she found what she was wanting to grab. She held out Yeosang's phone to him.

"Then why don't you?"

Yeosang groaned, halting his movements so as to not cum from her insinuation.

"Are you for real?" He wanted to make sure she wasn't kidding.

"Please just don't film my face. I don't want anyone to know it's me in case it gets in the wrong hands or you upload it to a porn site." She stated making him burst out in a lighthearted laugh.

"Oh honey I won't do that. I'm keeping this for my fap material."

Yeosang sat up as he turned on the camera. He began moving once the phone started recording the naughty scene taking place in his bedroom, this time going a little rougher than at first. He loved watching the way Y/N's tits bounced every time he pushed back inside of her. The red LED lights only made it more thrilling, adding a more erotic aesthetic that the camera captured perfectly.

~I'm burning up, yeah, all I see is red, ah

She said "Fuck me like I'm famous"

I said, "Okay"~

Yeosang's free hand ran across her stomach, momentarily pressing down on the bulge protruding from there. Then it began to squeeze at her breasts, fondling and groping them in a not too harsh fashion.

"Yeosang..... I need more..." She spoke out.

Yeosang pressed paused to help her out.

"Want more? Ok. Turn around for me baby."

~Push a little further on the edge

Crawl a little further on the bed, babe~

Pulling out of her, his hands helped her turn her body for him. Y/N immediately got on all fours, but Yeosang pressed his hand on her back.

"As cute as you look right now my friend, that's not what I had in mind."

Pushing her down, he made her lay her body on the mattress into a low doggy position. Y/N looked back at him with a questioning gaze.

"Trust me Y/N. It'll have you cumming in seconds."

Picking up his phone again, he was about to resume recording when Y/N's words made him snap up.

"Sangie please fuck me raw."

Yeosang swore he had a mini heart attack when she said that.

"Y..Y/N....what are you-"

"It's ok! I'm on birth control and I just really want to feel you and have you cum inside me." She confessed unashamedly.

Yeosang thought about it for a minute before deciding 'screw it' and threw away the condom that was wrapped around his dick. Pumping himself a few times, he finally pressed record again, wanting to capture the moment he entered his friend completely raw.

This time his thrusts were more deep and fast paced, wanting to have Y/N come as fast as possible, which wasn't going to take too long, if her now loud gasps and moans were a major clue.

"Oh- oh my g-god!"

Y/N now understood what Yeosang meant when he said he'd have her cumming in seconds. With his cock pushing in and out of her rapidly it made the mattress underneath her rub against her clit in the most addicting friction she'd ever had.

"T-told you so.." Yeosang couldn't hide the shit eating grin on his face, which Y/N would have slapped off if she could see it.

Gripping at her hip harshly, he angled himself so he could hit that special spot in her, finding it quite easily after many practices in the same room from past lovers. Y/N tried biting her lip but it wasn't enough so she resorted to hiding her face on the pillow in front of her, muffling her near shrieking moans.

~You're buried in the pillow, yeah, you're so loud

But I'm about to show you, baby, slow down~

Lifting her head up slightly, she tried to warn him.

"S-Sangie...I'm gonna-"

She threw her head down again, not wanting Yeosang's next door neighbors to complain next day about the noise, given how thin the walls were.

Positioning his phone on the dresser, Yeosang crouched down and lifted her face up to look at him. She looked almost completely fucked out, her hair sticking onto her face, sweat beads piling on her forehead. Yeosang kissed her messily, his mouth silencing some of her moans as well as his own.

"Go ahead gorgeous. Cum for me. I'll be right behind her."

Yeosang let out a deep, gutteral moan when he felt her clench around him, her body shaking underneath him as she came hard. A series of cursing ensued as he spilled himself inside her, coating her walls with his cum. He slowed down his movements, but never halted them completely, wanting her and himself to ride out their orgasms. When he finally stilled inside her, he grabbed his phone again and held it close to where their bodies connected.

"Holy shit. That's so hot." He said in an almost gloating tone as he pulled himself out of his best friend and watched as part of his cum seeped out of her.

Turning off the camera, he reached for the box of wet tissues on his nightstand and began wiping Y/N down. Tapping on her shoulder, he asked:

"You ok there bud?"

Y/N let out a muffled "Yeah."

"Cute." He shook his head.

Turning off the music, he plopped beside Y/N, turning her so they could resume spooning like they were in the beginning.

"So....?"

Y/N opened her eyes and tilted her head to look at him.

"So what?" She looked at him rather puzzled.

"Do you agree now that vanilla sex is superior?" He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

Y/N hummed as she pondered about it in her head. Turning around so her body faced his, she pulled him closer.

"I don't know.....might need a little more convincing..." She joked.

Yeosang took notice of the slight smirk that tugged at the corners of her lips. Wrapping his arms around her, he kissed the top of her head.

"Oh trust me. I don't think this will be the last time...."

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~Song used here: Slow Down- Chase Atlantic ~

500 notes · View notes

nashibirne · 3 years

Text

Against All Odds - 19

Today we have to say goodbye to Anna and Henry, this is the last chapter of "Against All Odds".

I'm really a little sad and melancholic. This was my first story here on Tumblr and it has been quite a ride. But it's time to let go and give them the happy ending they deserve. I initially planned to leave it to pure fluff and exclude smut but somehow my hand slipped...it just came over me...and them. So lots of fluff and some smut ahead. Enjoy!

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC (Anna) Warnings: Lots of fluff, some smut, NSFW, 18 +, sex, dry humping, masturbation, thigh riding, slight daddy kink / male dom, choking, public sex, unprotected sex. Unbeta'ed! English is not my first language, so consider yourself warned, there might be bad grammar and wrong spelling ahead.

All previous parts can be found here: Masterlist

Likes, reblogs and comments are very welcome.

Tags: @lunedelorient @hell1129-blog @willkatfanfromasia @inlovewithhisblueeyes @mis-lil-red @agniavateira @omgkatinka @legendarywizarddetective

So here we go...let the grand finale begin...

~~~~~~~

When Henry looked out of the window after his morning routine almost three month after the encounter with Lestat he cursed internally. The weather was really shitty. It was raining lightly and fog was swirling above the woods and meadows that surrounded his farm. He could only hope that the forecast was right and the sun would show soon. He needed this day to be perfect and sunny weather was only a little part of a bigger plan.

It turned out he was lucky. When Anna and Henry walked the dogs together in the afternoon the sun was shining bright from a cloudless blue sky. It was warm for this time of the year and there was a light breeze that rustled through the trees.

"Why don't we take another route today, princess?" Henry looked at Anna with a smile.

"Sure, where do you want to go?"

"This way." Henry pointed to the left and Anna seemed to be not too enthusiastic about his idea.

"Is that even a regular path? It looks quite overgrown. The dogs will be full of ticks again and we're going to rip our clothes. I'm wearing a brand new jacket." She looked at him with a frown.

Shit.

This was so typical for Anna. She was a practical person, always reasonable, and he loved it that she was so down to earth but today he needed her to take this god damn path. Otherwise his surprise wouldn't work.

"I just want to discover new places, Baby. Expand our horizons. It's going to be fun." Henry said before he brought up the big guns. It was time for poetry.

"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference."

Henry recited with a grin.

"Wow...Robert Frost… I'm impressed." Anna laughed. "Don't be. You made me watch 'Dead Poets Society' three times. I know every single poem that was quoted in that very good movie." Henry pulled her into a hug and kissed her on the forehead tenderly. "Come on." "Fine. I'm willing to follow you anywhere. Oh Captain, my Captain." Smiling, she gave him a peck on the cheek. "Captain. I like the sound of that." Henry smirked and took her by the hand.

They followed the path for a while and it turned out that Anna was right. It was overgrown, almost jungle-like in some areas, so they had to climb over some trunks and bushes and squeeze through a thorny bramble hedge but Anna didn't complain. On the contrary. She loved the picturesque atmosphere and took dozens of pictures with her mobile.

"This is really lovely, Henry. I'm glad we chose this path. It was a good idea to try something new." She beamed and kissed him happily. He chuckled. "Are you saying I was right?" "I wouldn't go that far." Anna grinned before she took another series of photos.

After half an hour and a lot of stumbling through the undergrowth they reached the regular path, that led to a large meadow, that was surrounded by hedges and a low stonewall. Anna took a look around with a frown. "I know this place…" "Yeah, you should." Henry winked and it dawned on her. "This is the place where we first met. Oh my god, Henry. I crouched over a fly agaric over there when Kal knocked me over." "Yes. And I came to your rescue and fell for you almost instantly." He took her in his arms and pulled her close. "That was exactly one year ago." His voice was soft and full of love. "Really? I totally forgot about the date. I'm so unromantic...sorry, Baby." "Don't worry, princess. You have other qualities." Henry smirked before kissing her. He let his hands slide to her ass, giving it a squezze which made Anna moan. "Behave, Cavill." She gave him a sexy smile. "No way." He kissed her again, passionately this time and she returned the kiss with the same vigour. When he finally pulled away he left her panting for breath. "Wow...this keeps getting better and better." "Oh...just wait for it." Henry walked over to a large lime tree and reached behind the trunk. When he turned around again he held a basket in his hands. "Picnic!" Anna cheered. "Oh Darling...this is such a great surprise. And you know I hate surprises...normally." "But not today." "No, today I love it."

Henry smiled and started flattening a checkered blanket right under the lime. He sat down and patted on the free spot beside him. "Come on, princess. Sit down and let me show you what I've got for you." "There's nothing I'd rather do." Anna plopped down on the blanket, watching Henry unpack the basket. He placed two plates, cutlery, two glasses and a bottle of rosemary water on the blanket. To Anna's big surprise he even raked out the little Bluetooth speaker that normally stood in his kitchen. He connected it to his mobile and started his 80s rock playlist.

"Wow, you've thought of everything. But what about food?" "Mylady wishes for food, mylady shall have food." Henry grinned and got various boxes out of the basket, opening them he started to explain what he had prepared for them. "We have different kinds of cheese, grapes, olives, cherry tomatoes, nuts and raisins, Belgian filled Chocolates plus...and I can proudly say in advance that this is homemade by me...a loaf of delicious freshly baked bread." Anna clapped her hands, beaming all over her face. "Henry...this looks heavenly." "Let's eat then, my love."

Anna was right, the food was delicious and they enjoyed their little picnic very much, taking their time to taste all the things Henry had prepared, chatting and laughing, watching the dogs play and just savouring this carefree time of togetherness. When they were done with eating they cleared the blanket and stuffed everything except the speaker back into the basket.

Anna cuddled up in Henry's arms. He was sitting under the lime tree now, his back leaning against the trunk.

"Thank you so much, Baby. This was such a perfect surprise and such a lovely picnic." "Oh we're not done yet...I have another surprise for you." Henry cleared his throat and was about to get up but Anna was faster. She straddled his lap before Henry realized what she was up to.

"Really, Mr. Cavill? Another surprise?" She whispered in his ear. "Is it big?" She looked at him with a smirk before she kissed him. Henry grabbed her by the waist, pulling her closer to deepen the kiss. It got hot and erotic very fast. Anna started to rub her pussy against the bulge in his jeans slowly, she felt his hard on through the woolen fabric of the leggings she wore under her denim skirt.

"Oohh...it is big. Huge even." she said, still riding him. "That's not what I meant when I said I had another surprise, babe." Henry moaned. His hands were under her shirt now, stroking her full breasts through her bra. "Do you want to stop?" Anna moved her body away from his lap, straddling one of his thick thighs now. She let her hands slide over his crotch, massaging his dick through his trousers, looking at him innocently. "Princess…." he growled, grabbing her hips, making her move on his thigh. Anna let out a muffled moan. The friction between his massive leg and her sensitive pussy was pure pleasure even though there were three layers of fabric between his skin and hers. "Henry…" Anna started riding his thigh looking at him. She sighed and licked her lips. "...we have to be quiet and very discreet." "Don't worry, baby girl. This is private property. Nobody's here except us." "I know...just in case…" Anna was already out of breath because she had picked up speed, rubbing against Henry in a faster rhythm now. Her moans were getting louder. "Do you like it, baby? Riding my thigh like a cheap little slut?" Henry hissed through clenched teeth. His hard-on was throbbing in his jeans painfully. "Rubbing your tight little pussy over me?" Anna just sighed and leaned in to kiss him but Henry stopped her. "Answer me, princess." "Yes...yes, Daddy. I love it." She groaned, feeling her orgasm coming closer and closer. "Good girl. I'm going to reward you." Henry slapped her ass before he started fumbling with the buttons of his jeans. Anna stopped moving, watching him agape with big eyes. "Keep moving, baby." Henry ordered and Anna obeyed but her eyes never left his hands that were now getting out his rock hard dick. He started stroking himself, letting out a long moan. "Yeah...that's it." He said, locking eyes with Anna. "That's it, princess. Watch me, watch me touching my big cock. Look at me and come for me." "Oh, god...I love your dick, Daddy. It's so thick…" Anna whispered in a sweet voice, panting and moaning while she rode his thigh harder. "No talking, princess." Henry slapped her ass again with his free hand, the other hand pumping his dick that was glistening with pre cum. "But Daddy…" Anna shrieked when she felt the hand that had just slapped her ass on her throat. "No talking…." Henry growled. "Just come for me." The way he squeezed her throat with well measured pressure, giving her the feeling of being completely at his mercy, combined with the sight of his big hand jerking himself off was enough to send her over the edge. Her orgasm was long and intense and she rode it out devouring the sensation. "Good girl." Henry sighed and it took him just another few thrusts into his hand to cum too. Anna leaned forward, resting her forehead on his. "Wow...Baby….that was something. I've never had sex fully dressed before." She grinned at him and gave him a tender kiss. "Yeah, it was great…even though it wasn't part of my plan." Henry smirked, grabbing a napkin to clean up the mess his cum had left on his jeans and Anna's jacket. Anna laughed and got up, straightening her clothes. "So what was your plan? What's the other surprise you have for me?"

Henry looked at her with a frown, getting up too. "You really want to know?"

"Of course."

"Okay. Then...let's dance." He winked at her with a sly smile and grabbed his phone. He started searching through the playlist and stopped it before playing a certain song.

"May I ask for this dance?" He held out his hand to her and Anna gladly took it.

"Sure." She said and Henry pulled her close and they started to sway their bodies to the music. It was "Forever" by Kiss that was playing. A beautiful ballad Anna and Henry liked a lot. They had made slow, sensual love to this song countless times.

I see my future when I look in your eyes

It took your love to make my heart come alive

'Cause I lived my life believing all love is blind

But everything about you is telling me this time...

Anna looked at Henry and he kissed her. It was a tender kiss, full of love and devotion.

...it's forever, this time I know

And there's no doubt in my mind

Forever, until my life is through

Girl I'll be loving you forever.

When the song was over Henry took a step back, reaching into his pocket, getting out a little box. He had planned this for so long, had played it through in his head again and again but now he was a nervous wreck all of the sudden. He took a deep breath before getting down on one knee opening the box, presenting her a beautiful engagement ring.

Anna gasped when she realized what was happening. She bit her lip, holding her breath.

"Anna, my love. I know it's only been a year since we met and 9 months that we're together but though this is quite a short span of time it has been the most wonderful and happy time in all my life. You complete me, Darling. You make me whole, you are my home, my heart, my soul, my everything. I love you more than I could ever say and therefore I'm kneeling here, asking you if you want to spend the rest of your life with me. Anna Wagner...do you want to marry me?"

Anna let out a deep breath, beaming with joy.

"Yes...oh my god...yes, Henry. Of course I want to marry you." She took his hands, dragged him up and pulled him into a tight embrace before kissing him tenderly.

"I love you, Cavill."

"I love you, princess."

******

Three years later

When Anna came back from her appointment in town to Old Johnson's Farm in the afternoon she found Henry sleeping on the couch peacefully. Their little boy Peter -they had named him after Anna's late father- was sleeping on Henry's broad chest, snoring softly, Kal was lying at Henry's feet, snoring not quite so softly.

Anna couldn't help but smile like a love-struck fool. This was all she'd ever wanted. A loyal man, who truly loved and respected her, a home, a family. And now that she had it, it was even better than she could have ever imagined. Henry was a perfect husband and a fantastic father - loving, caring, patient and still the dorky nerd, she had fallen for four years ago.

After Peter had been born Henry had stepped back from work for a year to spend as much time as possible with them and to have Anna's back who had started to work again part-time after three months. Henry had done a lot of audio books over the last sixth month -it was work he could easily do at home- and he really liked it. Of course it had been a huge success. Henry didn't really get why but Anna knew every time she heard his deep, dark voice that felt like velvet in her ears.

Pete was 14 months old now and from next week on Henry would be away for a while to shoot the next Witcher season. She was a little scared of the times that were awaiting her. It would be the first time for them to be apart for so long and the first time for Anna to face the fact that her husband was going to shoot sex scenes with attractive young women like Anya Chalotra. But she knew she would be able to deal with it. It was already decided that she and Peter would visit Henry on set to meet his co-stars and to get a feeling for his work and the process of acting.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Peter's babbling. She took him from Henry's chest into her arms and hugged him gently. "Shush...little pea...we don't want to wake daddy." She whispered in his ear before kissing his soft, chubby cheeks several times.

Henry seemed to realize that Peter's weight on his chest was missing and he mumbled something incomprehensible before he turned around, but he didn't wake up. Anna knew he was exhausted. He had been up all night to calm down Pete who was teething. Anna wanted to take turns but Henry wouldn't let her because she had to get up early for work.

"Come on, pumpkin. Let's go feed the horses and let daddy and Kal get some sleep. You wore them out last night."

She smiled when she took another look at the man she loved. "It's really good that your dad has such a broad chest." She said softly to her son with a happy smile on her face. "With a little luck there will be two little pumpkins sleeping on it in seven months' time."

THE END

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #cavillry #henry cavill x ofc #slow burn #friends to lovers #smut

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peppersonironi · 3 years

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Duke Thomas VS The "Good Child" Stereotype Chapter 2

Next chapter for my Duke Thomas Big Bang fic is up!

(Once again, a hearty thank you to my betas @queerbutstillhereand @theycallme-ook)

Read On Ao3

It was four am on a Friday morning, a week after Duke had decided he’d had enough of Bruce’s - and the other’s - incorrect opinion of him.

It was so early in the morning, that the main group of bats had been trickling back from patrol over the past hour or so. Stephanie and Cassandra had arrived first, followed by Jason ten minutes later. Then Tim had gotten back from his route with Harper, and Kate and Bette had stopped by for a bit (but eventually left for their own homes). Dick came home next, and Bruce had returned last with Damian.

Everyone was in varying states of winding down, with Stephanie at one end of the spectrum wearing silk pajamas, a fluffy robe which Duke was sixty-seven percent sure was Bruce’s, and bright pink bunny slippers Duke was positive were Dick’s. On the other side, Bruce hadn’t even pulled off his cowl, and was sitting down in front of the Batcomputer to work on a case.

Though Duke thought that Tim deserved his own category, dressed in a strange combination of disco track suit and kevlar body armor, and was hunched over three cans of energy drinks and a quart jug filled with espresso shots.

Duke leaned down to double check that his boots were laced up - one time he hadn’t, and had then proceeded to trip and fall into a garbage pile. Not. Fun.

He looked up, however, when Bruce clicked open a case file. So did everyone else, as if drawn by some invisible force.

They all clearly saw as Bruce hovered his mouse over a link which had been typed in sometime while the big bat had been away. The only hint to what it could be was the note reading “New Evidence.”

Bruce grunted in what for anyone else would be an exclamation of curiosity and went to click the link.

Which clearly went to YouTube.

In unison, all the bats’ eyes widened in realization. You see, in a family such as this one, pranks abounded. So they all had painstakingly memorized that series of letters and numbers.

They all knew what it meant.

Suddenly, the Batcave lit up with the dancing form of one Rick Astley. It was everywhere. On the several large monitors that made up the Batcomputer. The various screens spread across the caves. Everyone’s phones somehow were affected. As well as the X-Ray machine in the med bay, which was showing a skeleton dancing.

Bruce jumped up, rage full on his face. “Who did this? Make it stop!”

No one answered, all too frozen in shock at what had happened.

“Who…” Dick whispered from beside Jason, “Who would be that brave?”

“Yeah,” Jason whispered back, “Rick Rolls were banned at the 2015 family reunion after you played it two hundred and thirteen times in a row.”

Dick grinned, “those were good times.”

The two eldest boys began to bicker, Jason complaining that Rick Rolls were a part of the war crimes banned by the Geneva Convention, and Dick saying he “liked it: so there.”

Meanwhile, the song was reaching the chorus, and the other bats finally began to react. The three girls were dancing on top of exercise equipment, popping bottles of sparkling cider - or was that champagne? For their own sakes, they should hope it’s the former - they had pulled out of what seemed to be thin air.

Damian was in the corner, trying to get Titus to dance to the music - though he glanced around every so often to make sure that no one was noticing his moment of fun.

Tim was still nursing his collection of drinks like an alcoholic nursed a bottle.

Bruce was practically foaming at the mouth by that point.

“This is NOT FUNNY!”

That, of course, made everyone just start laughing harder. In the corner, Steph started to do the macarena completely off-tempo from the music. Cass seemed to be chugging the cider that Harper was pouring into her mouth.

Just then the holographic training simulations lit up, and Rick Astly began making his way across the cave, dancing all the way.

Bruce glared up at the semi transparent form of the singer, as if trying to force him into submission.

“T-pose to assert dominance!” Jason called, cupping his hands around his mouth.

“Yeah, that’ll totally work, B! Trust us!” Dick called as well.

Bruce took a moment to turn his head and glare at the two former Robins, who only smiled like the angels they clearly thought they were.

The image was not aided by the two giant stuffed swordfish just pulled from Jason’s utility belt.

“En guarde!” He cried, and tossed the one in his left hand at Damian, who had been trying to reassure his dog that the giant man wasn’t real.

The thirteen year old screeched, but caught the four foot long fish by its fin.

“This is animal abuse!” He cried.

“It’s not abuse if it’s dead!” Jason countered, and attacked the youngest bat with a passion.

As the duel progressed, Cassandra tried to raise her hand and gurgle out a bet on who would win, but began to choke on the liquid.

Harper cursed as she tossed away the sixth bottle of cider and tried to give Cass the heimlich maneuver.

Dick, meanwhile, pressed a button on one of the many consoles spread around the cave, and several stripper poles came out of hidden storage via hydraulics. He grabbed the nearest one, and began to dance.

“I THOUGHT I DISABLED THOSE?!” Bruce bellowed, as Dick began a twirl.

Stephanie, however, didn’t seem nearly as dismayed at the sight of the poles. She herself smacked a button next to her, and several disco balls dropped down from among the stalactites to join the fun. She then began to morph her macarena into an epic macarena. A few flips here, and a few pantomiming choking your enemies there. And a whole lot of randomly throwing glitter bombs at, well, everywhere.

But especially at the nearest authority figure.

Damian tripped over a bucket during his fight - apparently left over from Alfred’s earlier cleaning spree - and the soapy liquid spilled across the floor.

But, of course, them being the bats, Alfred didn’t use normal soap.

Huge bubbles began to farm from the liquid, the longest almost three feet in diameter, and rise up to the cave’s ceiling. The suds spread around, eagerly began to mingle with Stephanie’s glitter.

A solitary bubble, relatively small, floated over to Bruce’s head, and popped on one of his cowl’s ears. He was not amused.

*****

Five minutes later, everyone was lined up next to the Batcomputer with heads bowed in either shame or disappointment.

Bruce walked up and down the row, the perfect imitation of a drill sergeant. His glare matched as well.

“This is an outrageous breach of protocol,” he was saying, “the Batcomputer is not a toy, nor something to use for your own amusement. It is a serious tool-”

“Then why’s it called the Batcomputer?”

Bruce froze and whirled on Dick, who had chosen that inopportune moment to speak up.

“Because you were nine years old and saying no to you would have gotten me a meltdown.”

“It seems to me, Bossman,” Stephanie began, tenting her fingers in an attempt to act serious (the effect was strange combined with her bathrobe and slippers) “That you are perfectly happy to let Dick get away with things. But in this situation, with women present, you are strangely cold. This shows blatant sexism on your part and in this essay I will-”

“That’s enough, Stephanie.” Bruce cut off as a round of snorts and giggle erupted from the group of bats.

“You do realise that no one here is going to speak, right?” Jason asked, “You did teach us to resist torture. And - pardon my french, Alfred - but you are no fucking way close to the level of torture I’ve gone through. Namely waking up to Batcow sitting on top of me.”

“Are you commenting on her weight?” Damian demanded, glaring daggers at Jason.

“I said no such thing.”

“ Boys .” Bruce demanded, rubbing his temples. “Jason is right - not about Batcow’s weight - but I’m not going to get any of you to talk willingly.” He paused and made eye contact with every single bat present, trying to reach into their souls.

“Therefore,” he continued slowly, “I’m giving you one last chance. Otherwise: No one gets cookies from Alfred for two months. ”

The shock was immediate. Alfred’s cookies, of all kinds, were worth more than gold in the Manor. The ability to not have them? And for two months? Bruce truly was a cruel hearted tyrant if he was willing to go to such lengths.

Duke gulped.

“Fine, then.” Bruce said simply when no one answered. “I guess we’ll just have to check the security footage of the Cave.”

Why didn’t Bruce think of that earlier? He clearly wasn’t trying to give the kids an easy way out.

Bruce stalked over to the computer and began to furiously type at the keys, pulling up the footage for the past few days. The group watched in a tense silence as Bruce rifled through the multiple recordings, searching for the culprit.

“AHA!” Bruce grunted, upon finding a specific time stamp. There was a figure emerging from the shadows. He paused and then slowed down the video so they could all see who it was.

There were several gasps as the figure came into the light, looked around, and made his way to the computer. They had shown their face, not even bothering to hide.

Everyone whirled to Duke, then back to the screen.

“No way,” Harper whispered under her breath.

Because the person on the footage, who was now adding the link to the case file and hooking up bluetooth speakers, was Duke Thomas himself.

Bruce’s eye twitched.

There was a general consensus among the resident vigilantes in the cave at that time: Duke wasn’t going to live to tell the tale.

Duke felt uneasy under their scrutiny, unsure of what to do. This was his plan, after all. To be seen differently. But so far the lack of accusations or uproarious debate was disconcerting.

He looked up at Bruce, awaiting his reaction. Bruce didn’t meet Duke’s eyes.

“Hrn,” he grumbled angrily instead and whirled on Tim. Said teenager was barely standing up straight - well, he was leaning on Steph heavily - and blinked wearily around the cave. He didn’t seem to understand what was going on.

Bruce’s eyes narrowed for a long moment before he whipped around and furiously began to mess with the playback settings on the footage. Everyone stood still, not daring to move while Bruce grumbled under his breath.

Finally Bruce straightened and pointed dramatically toward the screen.

“There,” he grunted out, and everyone subconsciously leaned a little bit forward.

They didn’t see anything different from before, though Bruce’s finger did bring their attention to one of the bats that flew across the upper left hand corner. A few seconds of footage later, and yet another bat flew across in a similar pattern. Not exactly the same, so it wasn’t really out of the ordinary. Lord knows the bats would randomly fly out and into their hair much more than necessary.

“Note how the figure is disturbed when each bat flies across the screen,” Bruce said in the same voice he used when talking about a case - cold, impersonal, and yet like he was giving a college lecture.

No one spoke, not really sure what to say. I mean, what was the correct course of action when your father figure suddenly refuses to accept reality, and is grasping at the most unlikely of straws?

“I know this technique anywhere,” Bruce said more to himself than the line of vigilantes. He turned, completely passing over Duke, and set his sights on Tim.

“Timothy Jackson Drake,” Bruce growled, stalking forward, “What possessed you to doctor this footage?”

Tim didn’t respond, only mumbled incoherently and leaned onto Steph some more.

Bruce was furious, bearing his teeth as he spat out his response: “Now is not the time to use the anti-torture training I’ve given you.”

Tim nodded slowly and draped his arm on top of Stephanie’s head.

“You should know better than this,” Bruce began, “pranks are strictly forbidden in the cave, as you very well know. And in addition, I taught you better at framing than this. You choose a victim that could actually be considered as a suspect. Trying to pin the blame on Duke was your undoing - he would never do something like this.”

Duke cringed slightly, as the rest of the bats glanced Duke’s way. All were a mix of confusion and awe.

This … was not how this was supposed to go. No, screw that. That was an outrageous understatement. Things ‘not going according to plan’ would have been Jason randomly blaming Harper for the mess on no grounds - or maybe Bruce not bothering to check the cameras, opting instead to just ground everyone.

But blatantly ignoring evidence and then lecturing someone completely unrelated? No, this was too much. It couldn’t be real. This was some kind of scare-tactic wasn’t it? Duke was too much of an adrenaline junkie to be bothered by the usual ‘hanging upside down over a busy road’ schtick.

But then Bruce moves on to possible culprits Tim could have chosen instead - did he seriously think that Ra’s Al Ghul would Rick Roll them?! - and Duke lost hope.

“Uhh, Bruce?” Duke asked after the ten minute mark.

The Dark Knight turned and faced Duke.

Duke scratched the back of his neck. “Do you think I could head out for patrol now? It’s getting light out, and since you’ve clearly got this covered… I thought I could scoot out?”

Bruce was nodding before the end of Duke’s request. “Yes, go. I’ll deal with Tim. You don’t need to worry - you won’t be blamed. It clearly wasn’t your fault.”

Duke nodded slowly, and covered his disappointment with a small smirk. “Thanks, B.”

He jogged over to the edge of the platform and dropped down beside his Signal-Cycle. A routine mounting, a quick putting on of his helmet, and he was off.

Duke was scowling as he left, wondering what on earth had gone wrong.

*****

“Did you see that smirk?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Did he blame Tim on purpose?”

“How, though? To make such a tactical move -”

“It would have taken a shit ton of planning.”

“Can we get back on the fact that Bruce was fooled?”

“Or who fooled him?!”

#duke thomas #duke thomas big bang #batfam #fanfiction #my fanfiction #bruce wayne #stephanie brown #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #harper row #cassandra cain #damian wayne #batfamily

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artificialqueens · 3 years

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Me and You Together, 1/? (Taywhora) - Ortega

fic summary: The cardinal rule of having flatmates is that you Do Not Catch Feelings For Your Flatmates, because everything inevitably goes to shit and gets made horrifically awkward. A’whora and Tayce both know this, but being in first year of uni and making good decisions have never really gone hand in hand.

a/n: i honestly have begun this wip with glitter and jesus. i have no idea how many chapters it’s going to have or what exactly the plot is going to be…all i know is that it’s fwb (flatmates with benefits) to lovers taywhora with a background love triangle involving Ellie bc she’s my fav. pls enjoy and pls leave me love because i am a keyworker so really one comment = one 6pm clap xo

P.S. the Friday mentioned in this fic is the one A’whora’s obsessed with and was dancing to on her insta…not the popular Rebecca Black song. also 100 points to anyone who knows the song Lawrence and Ellie get excited about in the club.

content note: they’re freshers at uni in the UK and this country has a binge drinking problem xo. please don’t expect any of these girls to be acting responsibly. if you think you might be influenced by a fic talking about alcohol, smoking, sex and drugs, this might not be for you luv xo

December- Fell in love with her in stages

A year ago if you had asked A’whora what she was doing on a Tuesday night, the answer would’ve been mundane.

Homework, maybe, if she could be bothered. She could always copy it from Mocha in registration, after all. Making tiny outfits for Barbie dolls out of fabric scraps, very probably; she hadn’t stopped doing that just because she was older, the only difference from when she was nine was that she didn’t make her Barbies talk anymore. Invariably she’d stay up til’ well past her bedtime, earphones plugged in to her laptop and trying not to sing along to the playlist of dance music she’d spent a year cultivating. She’d poked fun at her Mum for still giving her a bedtime at the big age of eighteen, but she’d maintained that while her girl was living under her roof it would be bed by eleven on a weeknight and out no later than three on a weekend.

These rules, however, were quickly disposed of as soon as she’d got the keys to her uni flat. As soon as she’d found out her other flatmates were just as riotous and chaotic as she was and loved a night out just as much, her weeks had been filled with nights she’d never forget in bars she couldn’t remember, heads against speakers and sore feet from heels and ridiculous pre-drinks with even more ridiculous cocktails.

One such cocktail is the one her flatmate’s making for her now. Ellie doesn’t have any of the professional equipment a usual bartender would, but that doesn’t seem to stop her- the messy countertops are a treasure trove of obscure liqueurs and alcopops, and Ellie twirls a yellow-blonde curl around her finger before giving a gasp of satisfaction as her hand settles on a sticky green bottle.

“One shot of apple soors, half a can of blue Monster, top up the rest with vodka,” she explains as she works with the various bottles and cans quickly, pouring into the pint glass they’d stolen from one of the pubs on a bar crawl during Freshers Week. She hands it to A’whora with a cheeky, mischievous grin on her painted face.

A’whora sniffs her glass and feels her nose wrinkle up involuntarily at the concoction her flatmate’s poured for her. “Els, if I drink that I’ll die.”

Ellie, to her credit, simply gives a snort of disapproval in response. Her pink acrylics click against the quarter bottle of vodka as she tightens the lid and replaces it in their freezer, all shiny and slick with frost. “Well if you are gonna take three hours to get ready then you’re gonna have to deal with the consequences of playing catch-up, babe.”

“Bitch,” A’whora jokes, rolling her eyes before sipping from her glass. The mixture makes her screw her face up so she takes another sip, then another until the weird sour-sweet-burn in her throat becomes more like a cocktail than cough syrup.

“Good, right?” Ellie prompts her, leaning against their kitchen counter proudly.

“No,” A’whora deadpans, causing her friend to burst out laughing. Then, realising something, she cocks her head. “Wait a second. What the fuck did you call the green drink?”

Ellie frowns. “Soors.”

“…Sourz?” A’whora says back to her, already giggling at the difference in dialects.

“Don’t play the pronunciation game with me, bitch.”

“Oh, I absolutely will when you’re just saying it wrong.”

“Lawrence!” Ellie shouts through to their other flatmate, sitting on the sofa and frowning at the bluetooth speaker as if it’s personally committed some crime against her. Ellie holds up the bottle as Lawrence snaps her head round, dark curls flying over her shoulder. “What’s this?”

“Liquidised heartburn,” she says instantly. A’whora snorts as Ellie rolls her eyes.

“Fuck’s sake. What’s it called?”

“Soors,” Lawrence shrugs back at her, and Ellie gestures triumphantly at A’whora who can only pout in reply.

“Listen, I can get Tia, Bims and Tayce through here and they’d all outnumber you, so. Shut it.”

“Yeah bet you’d love to get Tayce through here, A’whora,” Ellie smirks, raising both her eyebrows at her in an infuriatingly smug expression.

A’whora is clamped for a couple of reasons, the first being the God-awful nickname all her flatmates use against her. She’d managed to acquire it the first time they’d all played Never Have I Ever together and A’whora had drank for pretty much every situation or scenario presented to her. Before she’d known it, her very lovely, very Disney Princess-esque first name had been replaced by a pun that Bimini had come up with in the midst of their third rum and coke, and thus Aurora was dead and A’whora was born.

The second reason for her silence is a result of the mention of one of the girls she’s living with. A’whora had never really expected to develop a crush on any of her flatmates, which had been a ridiculous thing to assume- given the fact she’s attracted to girls and was going to be living with other girls, the odds would dictate that at least one of them would be her type. Luckily, though, she hasn’t developed any feelings for any of them. At least, that’s the lie she’s telling herself, as the cardinal rule of having flatmates is that you Do Not Catch Feelings For Your Flatmates because everything inevitably goes to shit and gets made horrifically awkward.

Tayce is different to Ellie, Lawrence, Tia and Bimini, though. None of the others get A’whora so flustered when they speak to her, none of the other others get her heart racing so fast it threatens to fly out her ribcage. She doesn’t feel the same sense of dizzy joy when she’s alone with any of the others: only when Tayce makes dinner with her, or when she comes to her room at ten at night for chats, or when they play Tayce’s stupid video games together and she beats her way-too-many-consecutive-times in a row to be considered fair. A’whora has tried to explain it away as just wanting to be liked, just wanting to be good friends, just just just until she can’t justify her own excuses any more and has instead resigned herself to repressing the feelings she has for her friend. The tension between them is building, though, and it’s only a matter of time until something happens.

“BITCH!”

A’whora jumps a little, flinching as she realises she’s gone too long without a comeback. Ellie’s expression is expectant and impatient as she clicks her fingers once, twice, three times in her face.

“Shut up, Ellie-phant,” A’whora manages to mumble almost incoherently as she turns on her heel, walking through to the living room area to sit with Lawrence and join her on her quest to making their speakers work.

Their flat is an odd one. The front door leads to a prison cell-style line of equally pokey rooms- Lawrence’s, Tayce’s, A’whora’s, Bimini’s, Ellie’s and Tia’s respectively- and two bathrooms. Then another door opens out onto two hobs, endless cupboards and grimy, cluttered countertops, and a scrub of shitty green carpet and three worn out red-purple sofas that look as tired as Bimini does when they come home from a random afterparty just as A’whora leaves for lectures. It doesn’t in any way look like a normal flat, but A’whora supposes they’re about as far away from normal as a sentient slice of cheese.

“Oh babe, you must be crushing crushing. I don’t think I’ve heard you come out with a comeback as shit as that in the whole four months we’ve lived together,” Ellie continues the conversation, buzzing behind her like an annoying fly.

“It wasn’t shit, it was good!”

“Lawrie, what’s a good comeback to me calling A’whora a whore?” Ellie appeals to her friend again.

“Rich of you to be calling anyone a whore. You come from a long line of whores. You’re a whore, your maw’s a whore, your maw’s maw was a whore. There’s cave paintings of your ancestors wi’ twelve dicks in their mouths. There’s tapestries of them gettin’ shagged left, right an’ centre. There’s clay sculptures of them being whores. Pipe the fuck doon,” Lawrence reels off, Ellie growing more and more breathless with hysterical laughter beside her and A’whora falling into giggles too.

“Well this was a weird time for me to enter the conversation.”

A’whora feels her heart lift and her face light up when she turns around and sees Tayce walking through to join them, the posture of a model with her fingers curled elegantly around the stem of a wine glass. She flicks her long, dark hair over her shoulder as she sits down on the small sofa beside A’whora, and she wonders how Tayce can sit in a way that makes the stained, battered, scratchy upholstery seem like the set of a high fashion photoshoot.

“Just talking about you,” A’whora sticks her tongue out at her, laughing at the way Tayce reels in fake horror and Lawrence explodes with laughter across from them.

“The valour, the bravery and the backbone,” Tayce grumbles, rolling her eyes. Her gaze rests upon something behind A’whora- the back of the sofa. Maybe there’s a new rip in it, God knows how that can have happened. She holds back a gasp, though, when Tayce reaches out and runs a gentle finger down her spine against her bare skin; an advantage of the sparkly backless cowl neck top she’s wearing that she hadn’t known existed until now. “Speaking of backbones, you’re such a skinny minnie.”

“Did you go to the school of backhanded compliments?” A’whora teases, deflecting from the way her heart’s still thrumming in her chest at the contact.

“Shush, you. You know you look bloody gorgeous,” Tayce says back to her, and even though there’s a laugh to her voice A’whora knows she means it. Her heart’s still going like a train but she can chalk that up to the half can of Monster Ellie’s dumped into her drink, so when she mutters out a thanks hun, same to you she hopes it doesn’t sound as insincere as it feels.

The thing is, she does look gorgeous. She’s dressed in a black lace bodysuit with straps that criss-cross up the back and a tight leather skirt that makes her legs look even longer than they already are. She’s opted for heels like A’whora has (unlike Ellie and Lawrence who have designated night-out trainers stained with spillages of drinks gone by) but hers have straps that are laced all the way round her calves and tied with a knot at the top. Everything about her outfit makes everything about her look outrageously good, and A’whora thinks it should be illegal for anyone to be this ethereal.

Tayce looks as if she’s about to fire something back at her judging by the little smile on her face but she’s interrupted by an outrageously loud boom from the speakers, as something that could be Lady Gaga but is too deafening to be deciphered screams through it. As the girls all flinch there’s a frantic diminuendo that comes from Lawrence mashing the volume button until the pitch is finally bearable and they can all take their hands off their ears.

“Lawrence, did you get the speakers working?” Ellie quips sarcastically, to which Tayce and A’whora burst out laughing and Lawrence almost elbows Ellie off the sofa opposite.

In the melee A’whora almost doesn’t notice Bimini and Tia come in, and they look ready to start the night if a little panicked.

“What the hell was that?” Tia asks quickly, opening the fridge and grabbing her bottle of premixed Malibu and pineapple before perching herself on the couch beside Ellie. “I thought part of the building had exploded.”

“Nah that was just my vagina, babes,” Lawrence says offhandedly, the others either screeching with laughter or groaning in anguish. Bimini crosses the room with their selection of drinks cradled in their arms and budges Tayce and A’whora up with an oi, oi!, A'whora’s pulse thudding at her wrist as a result of her close proximity to her crush.

No- her friend. Her friend who’s never going to be anything more than that.

With the six flatmates assembled, drinks poured, and tunes on, their pre drinks can begin. Pres at their flat often look like drinking games, yelling along to early 2010s pop, tipsily booking taxis and then touching up their makeup in the waiting time before they arrive. Tonight is no different; they bicker about where they want to go and eventually decide on the union because although it’s “too het” according to Ellie, it’s admittedly cheap and a good night out. A’whora chips into the conversation every five minutes with shady, catty jokes that Tayce howls at and leans into her side and clutches her arm or her hand or her thigh.

The contact is nice. They’ve reached that stage of their friendship where they’re touchy and close a lot of the time- A’whora’s constantly playing with Tayce’s hair and Tayce thinks nothing of just walking into A’whora’s room and getting under the duvet with her. They throw their arms around each other and bump shoulders as they walk and touch legs on the sofa, much like they’re doing now. A’whora has never been a cuddly type of friend- to be honest, she still isn’t- but there’s something about doing all this with Tayce that she doesn’t mind. It’s a comfortable kind of intimacy, a knitted blanket of sorts, but it’s a fragile space for Tayce to occupy too and A’whora knows it’s risky to let her rip a wall down she’s never been aware of til now.

The night rolls along and with every refill of A’whora’s glass the music gets turned up a little more, a little more, a little more until they’re all having to yell over each other as they play wiggly wiggly woo, who’s most likely to. It’s all fun and games until it gets to who’s most likely to sleep with a flatmate, and there’s a confusing mess of finger-pointing where Lawrence points to Ellie, Tayce points to Lawrence, and Bimini, Ellie and Tia point to A’whora.

“Fuck off, why’s it me?” she screeches in outrage, trying to cover up the fact her cheeks are burning and that Tayce seems suddenly all too close to her.

“Because! It’s you! It’s A’whora!” Bimini laughs, their accent making them seem all the more mischievous and shit-stirring.

“Well! If I’m sleeping with a flatmate that must mean one of you’s gonna be involved, doesn’t it?!”

“Right, sorry, yeah,” Bimini nods understandingly, before immediately switching to point to Tayce. There’s an arena-crowd roar that erupts from the others, one that makes A’whora laugh and blush scarlet at the same time. She sneaks a look at Tayce, who’s regarding her with much the same expression.

“I’m down if you are, hun,” A’whora jokes-but-not-really, shaking Tayce’s arm as if it’ll take away from the weak joke she’s trying to make. Tayce only shoots her a wink with her tongue trapped between her teeth.

“In your dreams, love.”

A’whora’s glad of the others laughing so she can pretend to join in, occupy herself with something other than the overwhelming urge to reply to Tayce with exactly.

The rest of pres fly by tipsily and incoherently. They get a noise complaint from the weird flat underneath them which seems solely comprised of six boys who never go outside, which prompts them to book taxis even though the union is only about a ten minute walk away. A’whora helps Tia re-glue on her eyelashes in a rush and Bimini spontaneously fills a hipflask with Ellie’s apple sourz, “for the road”. When the taxis roll up outside Lawrence hurries them all out the door with the urgency of a mother of five, and before long they’re standing in a queue around the block, Bimini and A’whora sharing Tia’s huge puffer jacket because neither of them thought to pick up coats in their haste to leave.

Tayce pulls a packet of cigarettes out of her pocket, flips the little cardboard lid of them open and offers them round to the others. A’whora takes one because Tayce is offering, and really Tayce could offer them grenades with the pins pulled out and A’whora would accept if only to get her smile flashed at her again or the chance that their hands might touch during the transfer. A’whora thinks Tayce is every public health campaign’s worst nightmare as she watches her hold the cigarette between her index and middle fingers, wrap her lips around the end and inhale. Her cheekbones are razor-sharp as she drags then lets the breath go, red lipstick on the paper and the smoke curling up into the sparkly, dark night sky.

She is beautiful.

It’s because she’s beautiful that A’whora shouldn’t be surprised by the events that begin to unfold as they enter the club. Ellie immediately makes her way over to a booth, picks up the little sign that says it’s reserved and chucks it onto the dancefloor to get trampled underfoot and covered in sticky cocktail spillages. Tayce’s round is first because she lost Ring of Fire back at the flat so she goes over to the bar for shots, promising she’ll be only a couple of minutes and the others believing her; the way she looks ensures she never has a long wait time at the bar.

So they wait. And they wait. At first they don’t even notice how long they’ve waited- the tunes are good and loud and so they all yell along happily. Until Lawrence turns to the others with narrowed eyes.

“Here. Where the fuck is Tayce? She’s been ages.”

They all scan the bar, and Ellie suddenly points dramatically over to the other end of it. “Oh!”

Because Tayce is standing at the bar with no drinks and no interest in any of the bartenders taking drinks orders. She’s talking to a tall blonde with a dazzling smile and a low-cut crop top, and something inside A’whora burns and sinks at the same time. Tayce is allowed to be talking to a pretty girl. She’s not not allowed to. But it doesn’t make her any less jealous of the attention she’s giving her.

It’s a horror movie she can’t look away from. She’s aware that Ellie has gone to get the drinks instead, but that’s all she can absorb from her surroundings. She tunes out of the conversation at the table as she continues to watch the two of them interact. The girl’s got muscles, and her hair falls in neat waves on her shoulders, and she’s smiley and charming and doesn’t talk much, preferring instead to listen to Tayce. A’whora is different. A’whora is constantly on transmit; loud and opinionated and gobby and, okay, sometimes a little bit judgemental. She can’t do charming and demure. She can’t be what Tayce is very clearly interested in.

A thud next to her causes A’whora to whip her head round, tearing herself away from the scene playing out in front of her and ripping the plaster off.

“Fuck’s sake. Jaegerbombs with Red Bull? Puh-rison!” Ellie half-whines, half-shouts.

“Red Bull is the standard, not everyone can have the same taste in energy drinks as a sixteen year old virgin gamer,” A’whora narrows her eyes, gratefully accepting the drink from her nonetheless and shotting it back as if it’ll help blind her, or perhaps forget what she’s seeing.

“God. Who pissed in your coco pops?” Ellie fires back, rolling her eyes dramatically.

“Bold of you to assume anything specific has happened to make her this bitter, mean and salty,” Tia jokes from A’whora’s side, and as the others scream and laugh A’whora in turn fixes her with a glare, wishing momentarily she had laser beams for pupils.

“Ooh, that’s made me want a tequila,” Lawrence cries enthusiastically, too loud even from the other side of the booth.

“Eh, excuse me! I just got you a Jaegerbomb, finish that first,” Ellie chastises her like a world-weary parent, pushing the glass towards her friend and sliding her hand over the table, sticky with the ghosts of questionable drinks’ past. A’whora has to snort at her tone.

“Yeah Lawrence, finish your Jaegerbomb or you won’t get any dessert. Listen to your responsible Mum whose eyelash is coming off.”

A big roar of laughter flies up from the others, and it’s Ellie’s turn to glare at A’whora this time. She looks as if she’s about to say something back when Bimini sniffs their glass and frowns.

“Is Jaegerbombs vegan?”

Everyone apparently wishes to ignore the lack of grammatical sense to their sentence, and it’s Lawrence who responds first. “They’re vegan in the same sense that bleach is vegan?”

Bewilderingly satisfied, Bimini raises their glass to the middle of the table and the girls join them, cheering as they all clink them together and chuck the drinks back. The fact A’whora can’t join in leaves her eyes to fall on Tayce and that girl again. Tayce is smiling and it’s the brightest thing in the club, laughing as the girl flips her hair and touches her hand and tells some joke that’s obviously not as funny as anything A’whora could say. She wonders if she’s ever made Tayce smile like that. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but she can’t remember.

“You know they used to use Jaeger as cough medicine? And for ages it was drunk by, like…old Tories who went on deer hunts,” Tia reels off excitably, and A’whora can’t help but roll her eyes affectionately at her friend’s bizarre general knowledge. “There’s this rumour that it’s got deer’s blood in it.”

Bimini splutters, coughs, and chokes all at once. As Lawrence slaps their back entirely too roughly in a way that’s about as helpful as a water gun at a house fire, A’whora can’t help but turn to face Tia incredulously.

“What the fuck did you say that for?!”

Tia shrugs, too tipsy to register A’whora’s disbelief. “Fun fact.”

“You didn’t think to pipe up with that when Bims was asking if it was vegan?”

“It’s just a rumour!” Tia says defensively, then turns to Bimini to check they’re okay. A’whora huffs in exasperation, folding her arms and throwing her back against the supposedly cushioned walls of the booth. As she stares straight ahead and ignores the fuss her friends are making, her eyes fall on Tayce again and her heart hurts more than it should to see her with her phone out and the girl beside her doing the same. They’re so clearly swapping numbers. They’re allowed to swap numbers. It’s not like A’whora’s got dibs on Tayce, it’s not like she’s got any right to feel a burn in her stomach and a flame in her heart and a feeling of something slipping away.

“Right!” Lawrence all but yells, forcing A’whora to tear her eyes away. “I’ve finished my Jaegerbomb, Mum, can we get tequila now?”

Ellie sighs. “Fine! But you’re buying me this one, bitch.”

“I’ll come with,” A’whora says, thinking she’ll need at least ten more units of alcohol to stop feeling feelings.

“We’re going for a boogie, catch us up,” Bimini decides, as Rhythm is a Dancer blasts on the overhead speakers and Tia lets out a whooo! that’s way too white for a mixed-race girl.

So they move, A’whora bum-shuffling her way out of the booth and following Lawrence and Ellie, her feet sore in her heels. She purposefully blocks Tayce out of her peripheral vision as she leans against the bar, but she’s only separated from her by about six people also waiting and if she tilted her head forward she could definitely catch her eye if she wanted.

“Rhythm is a dancer, two for one at Asda,” Ellie sings along, bopping her head enthusiastically. A’whora laughs weakly, her proximity to Tayce and that bitch she’s talking to entirely too distracting.

“Shut your hole and tell me what you’re wanting,” Lawrence orders her. Ellie drums the palms of her hands against the bar as she semi-shouts sambucaaaaa, and A’whora asks for a vodka. She’s aware she’s mixing entirely too many spirits and her hangover tomorrow will be potentially life-threatening, but she doesn’t care.

“Tayce is still there. Should we shout her over and see what she wants?” Ellie suggests, craning her neck. A’whora firmly shakes her head.

“She’s wanting that baby Hulk she’s been talking to all night, apparently,” she all but spits, shocking herself at her venom. It’s clear she shocks the girls as well, and Lawrence turns around and simply raises her eyebrows at her.

“Men’s dress trousers in a hotel.”

A’whora can only blink. “What?”

Lawrence pauses for dramatic effect (or perhaps that’s just the Jaegerbomb making its alcohol content known). She points a finger at A’whora, then finishes whatever point she’s making. “Pressed.”

“Purrr!” Ellie laughs in agreement, grabbing A’whora’s shoulder and shaking it in an action that’s probably meant to be gentle but almost shakes her bone out of its socket. “Oh my God, that totally explains why you’ve been such a bitch all night.”

“This wee cow’s been a bitch her whole life,” Lawrence joins in. A’whora knows she’s got a proper face on by now, Dot Cotton licking piss off a nettle, but she can’t help it. She hates being wound up and she makes this perfectly clear to her friends via her furious silence.

“Nah, but tonight she’s a jealous bitch,” Ellie sticks her tongue out at her, and A’whora huffs.

“I’m not jealous!” she lies. “I’m just pissed off that she comes on a night out with us and she spends it talking to some random bitch she barely knows instead of her friends.”

“Wait. Oh my God, do you fancy Tayce?” Lawrence asks, a bull in a china shop on cocaine. Before A’whora can defend herself Ellie barks a laugh.

“Aw Lauzza, come on to fuck! Have you ever walked in when it’s been just the two of them? They’re so fucking flirty it’s disgusting.”

“DISGUSTEN!” Lawrence shouts, and it goes about ten percent of the way to drawing A’whora out of her mood.

“I don’t flirt with Tayce! I don’t fancy her either!” A’whora cries, exasperated. She realises too-late that her volume may have been too loud, but when she looks over at the topic of conversation again she’s both disappointed and relieved to see that she hasn’t registered a thing. “Anyway, you know you can’t shag your flatmate. It’s like the first rule of having flatmates. It would just make everything awkward.”

“That the only thing stopping you?” Lawrence looks at her pointedly.

“The bartender’s free,” A’whora glances just over Lawrence’s shoulder, and she turns around so fast it almost makes her feel dizzy. While Lawrence orders it leaves Ellie to turn to A’whora and pat her hand sympathetically.

“Why don’t you just go up to her?” she suggests. “I mean would it be so bad if you did just shag and get the pent-up tension released and then you can both just move on? I mean it’s not like you want to be her girlfriend or anything.”

A’whora presses her lips together and doesn’t reply. Her silence seems to communicate too much as Ellie’s mouth drops open a little and she fixes her with a pointed stare. “Oh, A’whora.”

“Look, I don’t know,” A’whora rushes to defend herself, her words spilling out over themselves in the way they sometimes do when she’s tipsy. “Like obviously she’s gorgeous but also, like…I do like her as a person as well, and I like being around her and just enjoying her company-”

Ellie splutters a giggle. “Enjoying her company, are you eighty years old in a care home?”

“I’m gonna slap you in a minute, shut up!” A’whora laughs incredulously. “But, like, I just…I don’t know if she likes me back like that, you know?

Ellie frowns. “I think, then, my advice would be…don’t shag her if you don’t think you can keep it to just that. ‘Cause obviously you don’t want to end up getting hurt.”

“Right, yeah,” A’whora replies, nodding.

If she’s honest, she’s disappointed. Obviously she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to sleep with Tayce- because fucking look at her- but just like Ellie said, she knows she would end up getting hurt if anything happened between them. Tayce would probably consider it a one-time thing and A’whora would be let down, or it would turn into some long, drawn-out friends with benefits scenario that would probably make everything worse.

The thing is she can only repress her feelings so much and tonight she’s feeling like one of Ellie’s cans of Monster that Tia shook up as a joke and ended up spurting out its contents so violently that there’s still a green-blue stain on their kitchen wall. A’whora’s way too close to telling the girls about every time she’s pictured her and Tayce falling asleep together and waking up together, every time she’s imagined them planning actual dates, every time she’s wanted to kiss her on the sofa- not necessarily even a kiss kiss but just a peck on the cheek, a soft one pressed to the crown of her head, a little one against their knuckles as they hold hands.

It all sounds ridiculous and silly and way too high school. Nothing seems to work the same at uni. Everyone just seems to shag, hook up, kiss strangers they’ll never see again in the shadows of grimy clubs. Everything seems to happen when everyone’s drunk. Everything’s done out of lust rather than love. Everything is so short-term because you can’t plan for the long term if you wake up and don’t remember the night before.

A’whora loves uni, but she doesn’t like that.

Besides, she’s already done all that in high school anyway. Sixth form had been like a crash course in freshers’ week; if she wasn’t drinking in parks or going to house parties she was sneaking into nightclubs using a fake ID that even Stevie Wonder could’ve seen right through. She’d half-heartedly slept with boys and figured out she liked girls when a sleepover after a party took a turn. She’d tried smoking and she came to the conclusion that she didn’t like it enough to buy her own cigarettes, she’d tried mandy once and that was once too much for her. All of that has prepared her well for uni- she’s street smart and has her head screwed on (for the most part- she’s still testing her limits as far as alcohol’s concerned). But feeling like she’s feeling for Tayce is uncharted territory, and out of everything she’s already done and experienced A’whora finds it hard to believe there’s not an age limit on this sort of thing because it all feels more risky and dangerous than smoking roll-ups in a children’s playpark at one in the morning ever did.

A wayheyyy! from Lawrence cuts through her thoughts and she accepts the shot she’s holding out to her, wordlessly clinking it together with Lawrence’s and Ellie’s and slamming it back as if it’s some form of medicine she desperately needs.

“It’s so weird that you don’t do the whole lime and salt thing,” Ellie wrinkles her nose at her friend, who in turn punches one of her own tits with what seems to be pride.

“‘Cause I’m made of strong stuff, babes. Right, what’s the conclusion on this one? Does she fancy Tayce or no?”

“Surely this is a bathroom stall conversation?” A’whora pouts, annoyed that her feelings for Tayce have been brought back up.

As Ellie relays to Lawrence what she’d said to A’whora, A’whora momentarily wonders if she’s in control of anything in her life any more.

Lawrence nods when Ellie’s done. “Smart advice. ‘Cause it would make things awkward for the flat. ‘Magine trying to make a Pot Noodle in the middle of a live-action episode of Eastenders.”

A’whora screws her face up in confusion. “All episodes of Eastenders are live action?”

“Y’know what the fuck I mean,” Lawrence rolls her eyes in exasperation. “Well we’ve given you our blessing and basically we represent the whole country, so. Go for it.”

“Thanks, Nicola Sturgeon, good to know I have your approval,” A’whora smirks at her, amused. When some Becky Hill song comes on over the speakers she takes it as her cue to smooth down her skirt, flip her hair over her shoulder and rest her little shot glass back on the bar. “Right, we going to have a dance or what?”

As she takes her friends’ hands they all but strut over to the dancefloor, and A’whora can see Bimini and Tia pulling shapes that they probably think make them look mysterious and sexy but actually just make them look as drunk as they no doubt are. Before A’whora can push through the crowd, Lawrence tugs her and Ellie back a bit.

“Here, I think I’ve remembered something Tayce told me once, if this is of any use to you?” she begins.

All of A’whora’s nerve endings light up like one of those colourful optical fiber lamps she had when she was small. Her eyes have clearly flown open and her mouth’s dropped slack without her even having to try, so desperate is she for what Lawrence is about to tell her. Ellie’s beside her equally expectant and anticipative, and Lawrence laughs at the pair of them before she continues.

“It was the pair of us and Tia…Christ, when was it…cannae mind. Think you’d gone home for the weekend and Ellie was doing something wi’ Bims…anyway, coupla’ bottles of wine in and we start playing wee stupid games. We’re doing snog, marry, avoid and Tia gives her…fuck, cannae even remember. Let’s say it was Ellie, Bimini and you. Now I can’t remember what she said for the other two but…” Lawrence pauses dramatically, and A’whora is a hair’s breadth away from practically begging her for the information she’s taking so long to impart. “…she said she would marry you because then she’d get to shag you more than just once.”

A’whora doesn’t think her eyes can go any wider but she somehow manages it. She doesn’t really know how to react but Ellie’s doing enough screaming to suffice for the two of them.

“When the fuck were you gonna tell us that?! Fuck, I can’t believe you never told me that! When did this happen?!” Ellie practically screeches in her face.

“Telt you I cannae mind! Maybe like…a month ago? I don’t know,” Lawrence supplies unhelpfully. Usually A’whora would try to rip the piss out of the way her accent’s gone ten times more Braveheart than usual after her series of drinks, but all she can think about is what she’s been told and, well…she can’t help the butterflies in her heart and the way a satisfied, triumphant grin spreads slowly onto her face.

Ellie’s equally as excited beside her. She whacks A’whora on the arm as she squeals with enthusiasm. “See! Now we know she likes you too!”

A’whora feels as if she’s made of glitter and confetti as she spins around in the direction of the bar. Her heart gives a dip on its rollercoaster of emotions as she sees that Tayce has somehow caught the attention of a different girl- long, dark hair and a blue and orange outfit and a mouth that’s moving at about a mile a minute.

There’s a second before A’whora makes to turn away in disappointment when Tayce’s pupils suddenly flick over to rest on her. Tayce’s self-assured expression and body language seem to falter when she catches A’whora’s eye, and she shoots her a little smile that- if A’whora didn’t know the girl better- she’d say was shy.

“Now the challenge is actually getting a chance to talk to her,” A’whora pouts. Chatting up Tayce and maybe getting to fall into bed with her really isn’t a time-sensitive issue; it doesn’t need to happen tonight, but A’whora’s had a chaotic combination of alcohol that makes her think there’s really no time like the present and hey, maybe this is her one and only chance.

“Well, we can keep an eye on her and when she’s free, then that’s your chance,” Ellie smiles, supportive and excited.

“What chat-up line are you gonnae use? I’ve got a cracker you can have if you want,” Lawrence insists, and A’whora and Ellie share a doubtful look.

“Go on.”

“What did one haggis say to the other haggis?” Lawrence begins. Without giving the other girls a chance to interject, she finishes. “…’Gonnae shaggis?’ ”

“And on that note,” Ellie shakes her head and rolls her eyes, taking both of them by the hand and pulling them into the crowd to join their other friends.

It’s amazing how easy it is to forget about the object of her affection chatting to random girls on the other side of the room when Bimini’s grabbing her and almost launching her across the dancefloor with their euphoric pogo-ing along to each and every song that gets played. The five of them drunkenly bum-ba-ba, bum-ba-ba along to Head & Heart and cheer for Tia when she does Nicki’s rap in Swalla without even stopping for breath. A’whora laughs in confusion with the other girls as Lawrence and Ellie get way too excited, squealing and clutching each others’ hands when some clubland tune that’s apparently much bigger in Scotland than it is in the other three corners of the UK gets put on, the lyrics of which seem to consist solely of the words up-up-up and awayyy. Bimini and Lawrence collect more drinks from the bar and A’whora very nearly knocks Ellie’s out of her hand when Friday comes on and she punches the air.

And then Tayce is on her own.

A’whora’s heart almost siezes up with how fast it jolts into full-blown palpitations because this is the moment she can finally go over and talk to her, the chance to turn their friendship into maybe something more even if that something more is only a random hookup after a night out, but it only takes the time for her to shake Ellie’s arm and point in Tayce’s direction for her to see that, yet again, she’s been approached by someone tall and confident and stunning and everything that A’whora wishes Tayce thought about her.

Her face falls and Ellie snaps her fingers in her line of vision, forcing her to look at her and the motherly expression of tough love she’s wearing.

“Hey. When has anyone ever stopped you getting your own way?” she yells at her over the music, and A’whora laughs half in amusement and half in agreement. As she falls silent, Ellie jerks her head towards the bar. “Go get her, bitch.”

It might be the alcohol, but it hits A’whora with a ironically sobering clarity that Ellie’s right.

So she takes a breath in and struts confidently over to the bar, practically able to feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins (although that could well be the caffeine from the second Jaegerbomb she’s downed this evening with Bimini’s encouragement). She smooths down her skirt so the split runs up the front of her thigh and not the side, adjusts the neck of her top so it’s framing her chest the way she wants it to. She could be nervous but the combined alcohol she’s drunk so far this evening pushes that feeling to the back of her head, replacing it with all-consuming confidence that she can feel from the inside out. She looks good, better than good, and she knows she can flirt even though she’s never really tried to flirt with Tayce. Well, never intentionally.

Okay, that’s maybe a lie.

The realisation that she’s actually going through with this is enough to make her want to freeze to the spot but by some miracle she’s still walking forward until she’s three, two, one steps away from her flatmate and the girl at the bar with too much plastic surgery and hair the shade of a vomit-coloured highlighter pen. A’whora wedges her shoulder in between the pair of them, hears the girl give a little tut/sigh hybrid from behind her but A’whora’s not really interested in bickering with her, not when Tayce’s eyes have fallen on her and she’s looking at her, really looking at her with a little playful smile on her painted lips.

“Hey baby boo,” Tayce says by way of a greeting, and A’whora feels her heart melt just a little. She’s being adorable, but she’s not going to let that damage her confident, composed exterior. Until Tayce follows up by running a hand down her arm and lacing their fingers together. “I haven’t seen you all night, I missed you.”

With that, A’whora feels the little cocky smirk she’s wearing break out into a shy grin, one that she hopes doesn’t look as ridiculously goofy as it feels. “Well. Maybe you would’ve seen more of me if you hadn’t been playing Take Me Out with half the bloody girls in here.”

“Who, me?” Tayce gasps, clutching the gold chain around her neck and pretending to be affronted. A’whora doesn’t mean to roll her eyes but she clearly does, and the small giggle she draws out of Tayce as a result makes it almost worth it. The squeeze Tayce gives her hand turns that almost into a definitely, as does what Tayce follows up with. “You’re cute when you’re jealous, you know.”

“You’re cute…all the time,” A’whora claps back, wishing she had some sort of drink in her hand to press against her face as she feels her blush start to bloom across her cheeks.

“I know, babe, that’s why I’ve been getting my drinks bought for me all night,” Tayce winks.

If Awhora uses that as a signal to pull her bank card from her bra, that’s nobody’s business but her own. The way Tayce’s gaze flicks to her chest lights a match in her heart. “Well…let me buy you one and then you won’t have to miss me so much.”

Tayce’s awed smile spreads slowly onto her face and they agree on tequila shots, the phase of the evening where they were nursing their drinks left firmly in the dust as the bartender hands them a salt shaker, two little shot glasses and two wedges of lime. The way Tayce’s tongue slides over the side of her hand before she sprinkles the salt and the way their eyes meet as she licks it up makes A’whora’s mouth dry, so the tequila’s welcome for a split second before she remembers why she hates it, the flavour and sheer strength of the alcohol akin to being hit by a truck.

As she grabs desperately for the lime like it’s an oxygen mask on a crash-landing plane, Tayce laughs and shakes her head pityingly. “You always end up ordering tequila and you always, always hate it.”

A’whora blinks as she composes herself, gives a little shiver of recovery. She cocks her head at Tayce inquisitively. “I didn’t know you remembered that.”

Tayce looks to the ground as she smiles, tucks a piece of her long hair behind her ear. It’s endearing and soft and it makes A’whora panic, so she presses her lips together and raises an eyebrow at Tayce questioningly. “So, how’d your little episode of Blind Date go anyway?“

"Gosh, you’re really pressed about this, aren’t you?” Tayce’s eyes are narrow as she smirks at her, and now it’s A'whora’s turn to look embarrassed. The soft laugh Tayce gives is reassuring so A'whora’s gaze drifts back up again and their eyes meet as she speaks again. “Well, there was, uh…blonde lady. Blonde lady with the muscles and the eyeliner. God, what was her name?”

“This is off to a flying start.”

“Kameron!” Tayce yells in her face as she remembers. It makes A’whora snort with laughter, something that’s probably wildly unattractive but she knows Tayce has seen her do it before. “And then there was, uh, Priyanka. I remember her name because she kept telling me every two minutes. That was a wild conversation.”

“Uh-huh. Who was the bitch I elbowed out the way?”

Tayce smirks at her, wobbles a little in her heels and steadies herself against the bar. “That was…Detox.”

“Radox?”

Tayce splutters. “Detox!”

“Should’ve called herself Botox, would’ve been nearer to the mark,” A’whora turns up her top lip. Tayce explodes in an outraged laugh beside her, clutches her wrist in a way that makes A’whora hope she won’t be able to feel her rapid pulse.

“Says Aurora Georgia Boyle, who asked for lip fillers for her eighteenth and was actually allowed to get them!”

“Don’t full name me, piece of shit!” A’whora gasps in mock-offence, shakes herself away from Tayce’s grip but finds her inexplicably nearer to her than she was before. She’s not necessarily complaining, though, because her whole left side is against Tayce’s right and there’s some form of other-worldly magnetism that seems to keep them pressed together. It makes her heart flutter so she tucks a section of hair behind her ear before she frowns. “I never told you that. How come you know that?”

“You did tell me! Back in freshers week! You just don’t remember,” Tayce giggles, poking her cheek with one acrylic nail. It should hurt more than it does. Maybe it does hurt and A’whora can’t feel it. She’s had a lot to drink.

It’s the alcohol she blames when she hooks an arm around Tayce’s waist, tilts her head and drops her volume to a murmur. “You seem to remember a lot of things about me.”

Tayce’s eyes widen just that little bit. “Well you’re a bit of an unforgettable person, really.”

Her words make A’whora’s heart light up so much that she can feel herself glowing from the inside out. She brings her other arm around Tayce in a tight hug, her hands joining at the small of her back, and Tayce mirrors her so they’re both anchoring each other. It’s hard for her to remember whether they’ve ever shared a hug like this before. It seems too intimate for friends, but A’whora doesn’t mind.

“Tayce.”

“Rory,” Tayce replies, mimicking her whine and the way she draws her name out. A’whora likes the nickname she gives her probably more than she should; she supposes it’s because only Tayce uses it and because it’s rooted in her actual given name.

A’whora pouts, squeezes Tayce’s waist. “I missed you tonight, you know.”

“Missed you too. Missed you so much,” Tayce murmurs back.

She’s already said it, A’whora knows she’s already said it, but with the way they’re both gazing at each other it seems to mean something more, something different. It’s ridiculous- they’re both drunk, and famously no good decisions have ever happened when two people have had this many assorted shots, but somehow it feels like all of this is just right.

A’whora drops her head to rest it on Tayce’s shoulder and she feels her arms tighten around her in response. Her lips graze her neck as she murmurs against it. “Not leaving me again.”

There’s a pause where she can’t really see Tayce’s expression or how she’s reacted. Her heart freezes, and the terror and reality of having crossed the line between friendship and whatever the hell this is suddenly consumes her whole body. She’s relieved, then, when Tayce eventually mutters against the crown of her head.

“All yours, baby.”

And she presses a kiss to her hair. Just like A’whora’s been dreaming about for so long.

She feels giddy and dizzy with absolute euphoria, so it’s that she blames when she puts her lips against Tayce’s neck again and plants one, two, three little kisses there in quick succession.

“Tayce,” she whispers again. She doesn’t really know what she wants to say or how to say it, but she knows she doesn’t want to go back to the dancefloor, and she doesn’t want to be with their other friends. She just wants her and Tayce together for however long she’ll let it be that way, and she doesn’t even care about the busy bar or the drunk students that bump into them every so often or the stares from the rowdy group of rugby lads that would usually make her feel intimidated, but not when she’s with Tayce.

When she’s with Tayce everything seems a little bit better somehow, just by her being there.

So maybe it’s that, or maybe it’s the tequila, or maybe it’s the feeling of having Tayce’s arms around her that makes A’whora tilt her head back up again and meet Tayce’s waiting lips with her own. There’s none of the usual hesitation or awkward pause that comes with kissing someone new because really the amount of times A’whora’s imagined this, dreamt about it, thought about it in daydreams that completely unhook her from reality, it’s as if it’s happened before.

Nothing has prepared her for the real thing though. How Tayce brings a hand up to rest at her jaw and how the other stays placed against the bare skin of her back, warm and supportive. How the both of them sway a little, unsteady in their heels as if they’ve been knocked for six. How Tayce’s body is close against hers and A’whora pushes a hand in her hair in an attempt to somehow bring her even closer. How kissing Tayce leaves her breathtaken and satisfied yet somehow amplifies her feeling of longing, because the more she gives to her the more A’whora wants and with every second that Tayce’s lips are on hers she can only feel the heat that’s pooling in her stomach growing more and more intense.

When Tayce pulls away and A’whora can only catch her breath, she fixes her with a lazy, half-lidded smile that makes her insides turn to melted honey.

“That was nice,” she blinks, and she’s a second away from kicking herself- because, really?- when Tayce giggles softly under her breath. She brushes a little piece of A’whora’s hair off her face, and the gentleness of the action throws her a little. A’whora brings her arms up to loop around her neck, and she leans in close again. “I wanna do it again.”

“I want to do…a lot of things. With you,” Tayce says, casual and chill as if her words haven’t just sent A’whora up in flames.

“Like…?”

“Like…maybe come back to mine and I’ll show you, baby.”

The whole moment’s perfect enough for A’whora to almost overlook the blunder Tayce has just made, but her nature dictates that she can’t let her get away with it. “We…we live together.”

Tayce lets out a snort, bumps her forehead against A’whora’s as she despairs of herself. “Right. Well…we gonna go home, then?”

A’whora doesn’t need to be asked twice. She laces her fingers in Tayce’s, resolves to text the others to tell them they’ve left, and stumbles towards the exit with her heart thumping wildly in her chest.

When she blinks, she’s tired, she’s in bed, it’s bright, and she’s confused as all hell.

The headache hits her like a sledgehammer to the face and she blinks slowly and heavily, adjusting herself to her surroundings. She’s in her own room, she can tell that much from the photos of her and her friends from back home on the cupboard and the fairy lights on her desk that aren’t switched on. Her mouth feels like a badger’s shat in it and her eyes are all achey, and as she throws an arm up to rub at them she’s surprised when she doesn’t see any leftover eye makeup on the back of her hand.

“The kraken awakes.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” A’whora flinches, her head whipping over to the foot of her bed to find Tayce sitting cross-legged leaning against the wall, her phone in her hand. She’s wearing her old leggings with the bleach stains and the hole at the calf, and a purple tie-dye sweatshirt that’s a size too big for her. Her hair’s loose and framing her face and the only makeup she has on is the little scattering of eyeliner that’s hanging tight to her lash line and has managed to escape the makeup wipe.

She looks disarmed and shy. There’s something comforting about it, because A’whora feels confused and completely on the back foot and she has no idea what’s going on. But there’s a warm smile on her face and it meets her eyes, so despite her disorientation A’whora feels safe.

“How long’ve you been there? Were you just watching me sleep like some…creepy Twilight vampire?” A’whora groans, sitting up and leaning forward and taking a deep breath as if it’ll make her headache go away.

Tayce laughs in a way that makes A’whora think the question’s flustered her, but she’s not sure. “The others went to get breakfast. I said I’d stay with you. Didn’t want you to be on your own feeling like shit and maybe having the fear.”

“I am having the fear. I don’t even know how we got home.”

The way Tayce’s face drops in what looks like abject panic makes her wonder what did happen last night. “Wait. What do you actually remember?”

A’whora’s heart is racing as she scans her mind for memories. Pres, club, drinks, booth. Tayce talking to some girl. Dancefloor. Tayce. Talking to Tayce. Kissing Tayce-

Kissing Tayce.

“Oh, no,” A’whora blurts out involuntarily. Her eyes are wide as she looks at Tayce. “We…did we? We did?”

Tayce’s face seems to relax as she bursts out laughing, and it all comes flooding back to A’whora and hits her like a train. Everything that had seemed like such a good idea last night now seems like the most awkward situation in the world now that Tayce is here, on her bed, and they’re both sober.

“Tayce, no,” A’whora whines, putting her head in her hands as her friend keeps laughing. “No! That’s so awkward. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, it was a good kiss,” Tayce smiles back, somehow both coy and self-assured at once. It’s her reaction that causes a new wave of cold horror to crash against A’whora, a wave on a rock.

“Oh, Jesus. Did anything else happen?”

Tayce grows animated. “God, yeah, we had the best sex ever. Sixty-nines, scissoring, we got the vibrators involved. It was bloody lush.”

A’whora’s too hungover to realise that Tayce is winding her up until she screeches with laughter right in her horrified face. “Oh my God, Rory, your face! No I’m joking, ‘course I’m joking.”

“Thank fuck,” A’whora sighs a world-weary sigh of relief, throwing herself back down against her pillows and immediately regretting it for the way her brain ricochets against her skull and makes her headache ten times worse. “So what did happen?”

“Well, you wanted to walk back because you wanted to look at the stars, so when we got to the square we lay down and looked at the stars for a bit. And then I wanted to go get chips and cheese but you were dragging me back home because you were so horny,” Tayce looks at her pointedly, and A’whora groans with embarrassment, grabbing her pillow and shoving it over her face. “But then after we got up the stairs and in through the door you said you felt sick, so I then had to hold your hair back while you threw up last night’s pasta bake and what looked to be about fifty different kinds of alcohol into the toilet bowl. Then I had to put you to bed and stay up half the night making sure you didn’t choke on your own tongue while you were asleep. Best one night stand I’ve ever had.”

When A’whora takes the pillow away, Tayce winks at her. She feels like putting the pillow back.

“I’m honestly so sorry,” she pouts. She is sorry. Part of her wishes she could at least properly remember what it had felt like to kiss Tayce. All the memories of the moment are much too paper-thin and flimsy, butterfly wings that’re all too rapidly flying away. Tayce isn’t giving her any cause to be embarrassed, but A’whora is anyway.

So she’s not sure what Tayce is going to say when she leans forward, takes her hand and gives it a squeeze. “Go brush your teeth.”

A’whora thinks she might be the first person in history to have cause of death: cringe written on her birth certificate. “You’re really adding insult to injury, aren’t you? Telling me all the embarrassing shit I did while I was off my face and then basically telling me my breath smells like dog shite.”

Tayce laughs as she shakes her head. “Just go do it, idiot.”

She’s never been one to say no to Tayce so A’whora drags herself out from under her duvet towards the little sink tucked away in the corner of her room, the cold chill of the freezing air hitting her bare arms and her feet and rendering her even more miserable. It’s only when she’s halfway through scrubbing at her teeth when it registers that she’s even got pyjamas on.

“Did you have to put my pyjamas on for me?” A’whora asks around her toothbrush, realising all too late that trying to talk through a mouthful of toothpaste is probably as unattractive as vomiting into the toilet bowl.

(The toilet bowl is definitely worse, but she’s just thinking this to help herself feel better.)

Tayce looks up from her phone and raises an eyebrow. “Nah, you managed to do it yourself. You did make me watch you put your stick-on bra on your forehead, though. Apparently it was the funniest thing in the world.”

A’whora just groans as she turns back to the sink, spitting out the toothpaste and following it with mouthwash just to completely clean her mouth of the various alcoholic sins of the night before. She crawls back into bed with a wearied sigh, and she’s surprised when Tayce falls on her side and scoots up beside her, laying on her side and facing her so their noses are almost touching. A’whora feels her heart lift and her pulse speed up, and it’s not helped by the way Tayce reaches out and tucks a little piece of hair behind her ear.

Tayce trails her fingers across to cup A’whora’s cheek, and she’s almost whispering when she speaks. “Thank God. Just wanted to do this again.”

When she leans in A’whora shuts her eyes, meets her halfway, and feels every cell in her body electrify when their lips touch. If kissing Tayce in a club when they were both drunk was good, then kissing her hungover in bed is somehow even better, and A’whora’s mystified at the way her headache seems to completely disappear with every second she spends with her lips on Tayce’s, kissing her gently and softly as if they’ve got all the time in the world. Tayce smells of everything comforting- Tresemme shampoo, snow fairy shower gel, the fabric softener she uses that’s way too expensive for a student budget. Fresh and clean and somehow new. It’s the simplest heaven A’whora has ever experienced.

Tayce pulls away and they both giggle, embarrassment and awkwardness gone now that the elephant in the room’s been addressed. A’whora only realises Tayce has taken her hand when she lets it go, pushes herself off the mattress and crosses the room towards the door.

“We should do that again some time,” she smiles wickedly by way of a goodbye, and A’whora can only nod bashfully in reply and agreement. Tayce has given her hope to hold on to, and she knows she’s going to cling to it ridiculously until whatever this is happens again.

She can’t wait.

Just as Tayce opens her door and A’whora resigns herself to her leaving, she lifts her head off the pillow when she hears her flatmate’s voice again as she disappears into the hallway.

“And go have a shower. You smell like tequila.”

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #ortega #me and you together #taywhora #uk2 #lesbian au #university au #british au #college au #freshers au #roommate au #friends with benefits to lovers #tayce #a'whora #lawrence chaney #ellie diamond #bimini bon boulash #tia kofi

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golden-babbles · 4 years

Text

Keep the Party Goin’ (Part 1)

Part 2

Yuu Nishinoya x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, college AU, obv aged up characters. Alcohol consumption. Part 1 is gonna be mostly SFW, with just implications, but part 2 will be all smut. You’ve been warned!

Summary: Your friend invites you to a party celebrating a win for her boyfriend's volleyball game. One of the guys catches your eye, and it looks like you've caught his too...

Inspiration: Flirt by NEFFEX, Rumors by NEFFEX, Tidal Wave by Portugal, The Man

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: This is my first time writing a fic and I’m so excited for how it will turn out! Let me know what you think! ^-^

It was Taylor who had come up with the idea, whispering in your ear a plan to make her possessive boyfriend get a little jealous. You had glanced at where he stood, leaning against a kitchen countertop, then your gaze travelled downward to the attractive, shorter man beside him.

You grinned as you turned back to your friend, responding with, “Let’s see if we can’t both get a little extra attention.” You whispered back your plan to her, and she giggled and nodded before playfully shoving you in Hinata’s direction to begin your ploy.

“Yo, Shoyo! You taking requests?” You yelled to the redhead over the music as you sauntered over to where he stood on his phone, controlling the bluetooth speakers from where he leaned against the wall.

He looked up at you and smirked as you leaned in close. “For you, babe? Sure, but it’ll cost ya.”

You rolled your eyes and groaned at the cocky little prick before leaning one shoulder against the wall as you faced him. “Name your price, Carrot Top.”

He laughed at the nickname and jutted a thumb towards the liquor sitting on a nearby counter. “Take a shot with me.”

You smirked and straightened, pulling away from the wall. “That’s it? You got yourself a deal.” You moved to grab a couple of shot glasses. “Do I get to pick the poison?”

“Sure, anything but tequila.” He winced. “That stuff messes me up.”

You opted for some fireball and poured a shot for each of you, giggling to yourself as you thought of how the liquor matched the redhead well. You handed his shot to him and held yours up for him to tap his glass to. “Bottoms up!” You downed your shot easily, laughing as Shoyo gave a light cough after he took his own.

“Fireball? You trying to kill me?” He laughed, but held out his phone to you, as per your deal. You queued up two songs, ready to put your evil plan into motion, and grabbed some solo cups of spiked punch from the kitchen before heading back to where your best friend waited for you near the makeshift dance floor.

By the time you reach Taylor’s spot, your first song has started. You hand her her cup of punch, then let the music flow through you as you begin dancing closely with your best friend, swaying your hips to the electric beats and pulses. You were both smiling and laughing, careful not to spill your drinks as you grinded against each other.

"Think we’ve got Tsuki’s attention yet, hmm?" She whispered in your ear as the hand not holding her drink came up behind your head and she pressed her forehead against yours.

You giggled conspiratorially and swept your own free hand over her hip as you glanced at Tsukishima out of the corner of your eye. He was watching you both attentively, clearly paying close attention as the first song came to a close.

“Oh, definitely. The cute guy next to him is watching, too.” Smirking to yourself, you turned back to your friend, downed the rest of your drink, and set the empty cup on a nearby coffee table, Taylor quickly following suit.

"C'mon Tay, let's make this interesting." You said as you grabbed her by the hips and turned her so that she faced away from you, pulling her close until your hips were flush. She began to slowly grind against you, bringing her hands back to run across your shoulders and down your biceps as she shimmied downward to the beat of the blaring music, rubbing her ass against your thighs as she moved.

The two of you ignored the crowd surrounding you, eyes finding the pair across the room, Taylor's flitting to her tall, frowning, blonde boyfriend as yours landed on the friend beside him. Your e/c gaze locked with wide dark chocolate irises as you continued to dance, whirling Taylor back around so that the two of you were facing each other once again, with her arms laced around the back of your neck and your eyes watching the pair of men over her shoulder.

You smirked when Tsukishima downed the rest of his drink and watched as he leaned down to say something to his friend over the thumping music. After a short nod, you watched his friend down his own drink and refill it with spiked punch before he followed Tsukishima across the room to where you danced with Taylor. You shifted your gaze back to your friend's and once again leaned your forehead against hers as you grinned victoriously.

"Uh oh, here they come." The two of you giggled together before Tsukishima grabbed Taylor's shoulder and gently but possessively pulled her away from you.

You feigned a pout up at the frowning blonde. "Hey, Tsuki! Why are you trying to ruin our fun?"

He scoffed. "Don't start. I know you're trying to make a move on her." He pulled your best friend close and wrapped his arms around her smaller frame. You had to fight back a smirk when she winked at you as she pressed her cheek to his chest. "And don't call me Tsuki."

Taylor huffed at his words as she looked up at him, clearly trying not to laugh. "Don't be rude, Kei, we're just trying to have a little fun." Then she turned her attention to the brunette who had walked over with Tsukishima.

"Hey Noya! I didn't know you were here!” She lied. “It's good to see you." She tried to pull out of Tsukishima's embrace, presumably to hug the smaller man, but Tsukishima held tight. She huffed in indignation and turned back to you.

"Y/n, this is Yuu Nishinoya. He's also on the volleyball team with Tsuki. He's the libero. Lots of strength and stamina." She giggles and winks for the second time since the males joined you and you roll your eyes. She's definitely a little tipsy.

You turn your gaze back to the man standing in front of you and find him blushing, a hand rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. How cute, you think, he's shy.

"F/n l/n. You can call me n/n." You stick out your hand for him to take, and he hesitates before removing his own hand from the back of his head to take yours, his eyes focusing on your clasped hands instead of meeting your gaze. You marvel in the strength of his grip and the calluses on his palms.

"Y-you can call me Noya." His voice is just barely audible over the sounds of the party going on around you.

You smile and release his hand and he glances up at you, seeming to blush harder, but he finally finds the confidence to meet your eyes. His hand returns to the back of his head, scratching lightly.

When your attention shifts away from Noya and back to your friend and her boyfriend, you find them passionately making out, even in the midst of everything, and you scowl.

"Yo, get a room, guys!" You lightly smack Tsukishima's arm where it lies across Taylor's shoulders. You can see Taylor blush as Tsukishima growls and glares at you. You stick your tongue out at him and he scoffs.

"Fine, we will." He smirks and grabs Taylor's wrist as he pulls her towards a hallway, presumably leading to Tsukishima's bedroom.

Taylor squeals and turns back to you before calling out, "Have fun, you two!" And placing two fingers in a "v" over her lips before sticking her tongue between them. Then she disappears behind the other partygoers, and you assume that you won't see her again until morning.

You send up a silent prayer of good luck for your best friend. Tsukishima always got insanely jealous of you when you and Taylor teased him, and it always ended in Taylor getting dicked down so good she had trouble walking in the morning.

You turned your attention back to Nishinoya and found him smiling in amusement toward where you last saw Taylor and Tsukishima, before he turned back to face you once again.

With your distractions gone, you took the opportunity to fully drink in the man in front of you. He had dropped his hand from behind his head, now opting instead to cross them over his broad chest, the black muscle tank he wore revealing the strength in his shoulders and biceps. He stood at about the same height as you, give or take an inch or two. Now that his initial shyness had seemed to wear off, likely due to the now empty cup held loosely in one hand. His dark brown eyes glimmered with confidence and a spark that you could only describe as spunky. His gelled spiky brown hair had one bleached spot at the front and center of his head and you couldn't help but wonder what it would look like between your thighs. Your gaze travelled downward to the black volleyball shorts he wore, probably the same ones he wore to practice, and the muscular thighs and claves peeking out of them.

Once your eyes finished their adventure, they traveled back to his face to see him combing you over in much the same way, taking your low cut black crop top and deep red, faux leather pencil skirt in stride before travelling back up and lingering on your black lace choker for just a moment, and then meeting your e/c eyes once again. You smirked when he did, and you could've sworn that you saw a gleam of amusement in his eyes as well.

"Like what you see?" You asked cockily, placing your hands on your hips.

"Mm, you could say that." He cocked a crooked smile back at you and took a step closer.

As he did, the song playing changed and your face lit up. "This is my favorite song! Dance with me?" You asked excitedly.

Noya's blush returned. "Um... sure, but I'm not a very good dancer."

"That's okay, just follow my lead." You wink at him and hold out a hand.

He takes it and you pull him in, hooking your arms behind his neck as the song rolls through a slow verse.

Lonely days will follow,

Days will follow

And that gaze that stuck

The halls will know your name

You heard him inhale sharply as the beat dropped and you thrust your hips close to his, his eyes lowering to watch your body move as his hands found your waist.

Hit me like a tidal wave,

Triggered by the aftershock

He found himself stunned into stillness as you swayed your hips, stepping back to swish your hair behind you and swing your arms out to your sides as the song progressed, bringing them back to his shoulders before shoving lightly to break his hold, then turning away from him as you had turned Taylor, pressing your back to his front. He hissed as your ass brushed against his member, slowly stirring in his shorts.

The contact was enough to wake him from his stupor, and soon he was moving along with you as you danced, gripping your waist and dipping his head into the crook of your shoulder as you swayed in time to the music. When the song ended, you were both panting and you could feel the stiffness in his pants against the curve of your ass.

He leaned up to take your earlobe lightly between his lips before speaking just loud enough to be heard over the music. "Let's make this a private party, hmm?"

You nodded breathlessly, and turned to face him with flushed cheeks, mirroring his expression from earlier.

He smiled and took your wrist, leading you back to the hallway you had seen Taylor and Tsukishima enter earlier. He produced a keyring as you walked, using one of the keys to unlock his bedroom door when the two of you reached it.

Once he had unlocked the door, he held it open and stepped to the side, beckoning for you to enter. As you stepped up to the threshold, you cocked an eyebrow at him, wondering at the extra security.

“Is the lock really necessary?” You eyed him suspiciously, lingering in the doorway.

He shrugs. “Can never be too careful with all of the people coming in and out of here all the time.”

He releases the doorknob and steps in close to you, bringing his hands to your hips and gently pushing you backwards into the room. Once you were both clear, he kicked the door closed behind him and pressing his forehead to yours.

“Now, whaddya say we keep the party goin’ on our own here?” He smirked as his lips crashed against yours, and you felt the wall behind you as your back was pressed against it.

#haikyuu #haikyū!!#haikyuu!!#haikyu!!#yuu nishinoya x reader #nishinoya x y/n #hq nishinoya #nishinoya smut

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goldandbluesmiles · 4 years

Text

Nickname Game

Summary: Bruce wakes up with a drug in his system and shenanigans ensue.

Ao3

XXX

Jason was about to have lunch when his phone buzzed. He was going to ignore it until he saw who was calling him.

"Oracle," he said after picking up the phone, "Why're you ringing me during daylight?"

"Bruce has been kidnapped,"

A beat of silence.

"What?"

"Bruce-"

"Yeah. Yeah. I heard you," said Jason, "From where?"

"Lunch break," said Barbara, "Only a few witnesses and they've been kept quiet,"

"Okay," said Jason, already switching the call to Bluetooth and grabbing his keys, "What's the plan?"

"All the other Robins are out of town. You're with Cassandra on this one,"

"Okay," said Jason hopping on his cycle

"Jason?" said Barbara

"Yeah,"

"Good Luck," she said, "And be careful,"

xxx

There was no ransom demand. The kidnapping was done by a disgruntled former employee that Bruce and Tim had personally seen the termination of. Jason didn't need to know why it had happened. Neither Bruce or Tim was in the habit of firing people for no good reason. There had probably been something fishy going on.

He was more worried about how long it was taking them to find the man. Cassandra's taut muscles showed him she was worried too.

He's batman. He's fine.

It didn't help.

They did find him thirty-seven hours after the kidnapping. He was chained to the warehouse ground, covered in cuts and bruises. There were needle marks on him showing that something had been given to him.

He was unconscious, resembling a dead man more than an alive one.

It took all his will power and Cassandra's firm hand on his shoulder to keep from beating the perp to a pulp.

"Take him home," said Cassandra

Jason took a deep breath and steadied himself. She was right because of course, she was. The only bat with at least some common sense.

"Okay," said Jason, "Okay,"

xxx

The good thing about keeping the kidnapping out of the media was that they were able to bring Bruce home without raising too many questions. He was instantly taken to the med bay where Leslie did her tests as the various children of the manor slowly trickled in.

"He's stable," said Leslie, "From what I can tell he's on some cocktail of sedatives and pain mediation. I'm not sure what they were trying to do but it's nothing overly harmful. He'll probably just be a little loopy when he wakes up. If he's not up for another 48 hours, we should probably do some more tests,"

Jason can hear Tim and Alfred asking more questions but all he can do is stare at the nearly lifeless body was his da-former mentor.

"You did good," said Dick, gently squeezing his shoulder.

Jason tried to nod, tried to give any reaction. It didn't work.

He wondered how long it would take- how long it would take for this oily dark feeling in his stomach to go away this time around and if he would ever stop feeling it every time he saw the older man laid up in bed.

He wondered if he even wanted to stop feeling it.

xxx

When Bruce started to stir awake thirty-two hours after the rescue, Jason was the only one awake, the rest of the bats having dozed off at different spots around the cave.

"Hunghhhh," said Bruce as he stirred awake

"Hey," murmured Jason gently touching the man's shoulder, "You with us, B?"

Bruce blinked slowly, looking as if he was having a hard time focusing. Jason gave him a few minutes to adjust. Once he stopped blinking, he noticed that bruce was looking at him with an odd tilt to his head and a confused look in his eyes.

He frowned. Maybe the injections had some side effects.

"Hey Bruce," said Jason, "Do you know who I am?"

Bruce frowned in concentration and then a bid dopey smile spread across his face.

"Murder Baby," he said

Jason couldn't believe his ears, "What?"

"Murder Baby!" said Bruce, this time a little more enthusiastically

"What?" this time his question came out in a screech and prompted everyone in them cave to wake up. Dick fell off the chair, Timmy and Duke accidentally elbowed each other from where they were curled up together. Everyone also looked ready for a fight. Cass was the only one who looked even a little calm.

Bruce grinned and waved when he saw all fo them.

"What's wrong Little Wing?" asked Dick, "Everything okay with him?"

Jason didn't know how to answer.

"Uh, B tell me again who I am?"

Dick frowned but Bruce answered without missing a beat.

"Murder Baby!"

There were a few murmured 'what the hell's around the room?'

"Father what's wrong with you?" asked Damian, coming to stand beside Jason

Bruce grinned again and bopped Damian on the nose "Little Cutie!"

"Oh my God," said Dick gleefully, "It's the drugs,"

Bruce turned at the sound and smiled at Dick, "Birdie!"

"Well okay then," said Tim.

Bruce grinned and made grabby hands at Tim. Tim carefully came closer only for Bruce to bodily haul him up on the bed.

"Hi dad," said Tim, a happy grin on his face. Jason thought it looked good on him.

"Coffee boy," murmured Bruce, gently poking his cheek.

"Ain't that accurate," scoffed Stephanie

"Eggplant girl!"

"That's also accurate," said Tim, "Hey B who's that?"

Bruce followed Tim's finger to Cass and smiled, "Dancey girl,"

A few chuckles were heard around the room and a game was made of it.

Duke was dubbed 'little mister light'

Kate was 'Kit Kat', apparently a childhood nickname by Bruce

Barbara was 'Little Red', another childhood nickname

Selina was still called 'Cat'

Harper was 'blue brat'

Cullen was called 'Cute bug'

But the real kicker came when Alfred finally came downstairs.

"What ever is going on down here," he asked

A few voices went up to explain but it Bruce's words that cut through everything.

"Hi, Dad!"

Silence. You could have heard a ghost pin drop.

"Master Bruce?" asked Alfred

Bruce held out a hand and made an impatient motion, "Dad!"

Alfred quickly came to his side and squeezed his hand, making Bruce smile a big dopey smile all over again.

"What is happening here?" asked Alfred, sounding both bewildered and happy

"He's giving everyone nicknames," Jason told him, "We think it's the drugs. He keeps calling me Murder Baby,"

"And apparently you're dad," said Dick, a soft smile on his face, "Makes sense really,"

Alfred smiled, a little wetness in his eyes, "I see,"

"You should hear what he's calling the rest of us," said Stephanie, "Hey Bruce, who am I?"

And then the nickname game began all over again.

"I didn't think he would use the word murder in association with me so...affectionately," said Jason

"You guys have come a long way," said Dick

"He's high on drugs," said Jason, trying not to let hope swell in his chest, "Probably doesn't know what he's saying,"

"He called Alfred Dad, Jay,"

Jason didn't have anything to say to that.

The real shock came when Leslie came over to check up on Bruce.

"Mom!"

Leslie stopped in her tracks.

"What?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"It's the drugs. He's giving everyone nicknames," said Tim

"And I'm..."

"Mom!" Bruce finished for her

"Well, baby," said Leslie, voice suspiciously rough, "Let's get you checked out,"

Bruce complied with a grin and nod.

Half an hour later, Bruce had dozed off again while everybody settled down around him.

"You all should really head upstairs," said Leslie

Nobody moved

xxx

Bruce woke up again two hours later but this time everyone was alert. Kate, Selina and Leslie had left while Alfred had gone back upstairs but the kids had all stayed.

Jason was once again the first one to notice that he was waking up.

"Hey, B," he said, "You with us?"

"Hmm, Jay?" said Bruce, prompting everyone to surround him once again.

Jason smiled, "Yeah. Yeah. It's me. How're you feeling?"

"I'm okay," he said, carefully, "How long was I out?"

"The first time nearly two days after. You woke a couple of hours ago and then fell asleep again," said Dick

Bruce frowned, "Please tell me you all haven't been here the whole time,"

"Don't worry about that," said Tim, "Do you remember anything from when you first woke up,"

Bruce frowned, "No, Should I?"

Everyone in the room shot each other looks, trying to but not succeeding in hiding their grins.

Bruce gave a resigned sigh, "Just show me the video,"

Four different phones were extended towards him. Bruce took Stephanie's and played the video displayed. They all watched him carefully as he cycled through very different emotions. Surprise, amusement, happiness and then utter bewilderment.

"I called Leslie, mom?" he asked, looking up at them

"Yeah," said Dick, "We were a little surprised,"

"I'm gonna have to talk to her aren't I?" he asked

"That's probably a good idea," said Duke

"Have you ever called her that before?" asked Tim

"Once," said Bruce, "I was around ten. I ran away and hid in my room for a full two days,"

"Wow,"

"Yup,"

There was a beat of silence and then Damian spoke up.

"Father, now that all this sentimental commiserating is over, I would like to bring up a complaint about the nickname you gave me,"

"Really brat?" said Tim, "Bruce was drugged for god's sake,"

"Quiet Drake," said Damian, "As I was saying, my nickname should not involve the work cute. I will allow little as I am the smallest right now but not cute,"

"But Dami," cried Dick, "You are cute,"

"I am not-Grayson! Get off of me- Father! Help!"

Bruce just shook his head and smiled.

Eventually, everybody wandered away from the cave, leaving only Bruce and Jason behind.

"So," started Bruce, conversationally, "What about this is bothering you? The murder part or the baby part?"

Jason stared at him, "I have no idea what you're talking about,"

Bruce raised his eyebrows and yeah, that was about eight on the Did you forget I'm Batman scale.

Jason sighed, "I don't know,"

"Is it a bad thing?"

Jason thought about it and landed on 'no'. Hearing it threw his for a bit of an emotional loop but it wasn't something that needed talking about. He would probably forget about it the minute he started eating Alfred's cookies.

"Nah. I'm good,"

"Okay," said Bruce, "Jay?"

"Yeah,"

"I love you,"

"Love you too, Old man,"

Yeah. It was good.

xxx

A few days after the incident, the family were all gathered in the den, having a rare night of pizza and movies. Well, the pizza was the rare part, not the movies.

Damian was grouchy about something like usual and talking-well complaining-Bruce's ear off.

Bruce was looking at his phone though and at one point pulled Damian close while shushing him absentmindedly.

"Hush, Little Cutie,"

There was a moment of silence and then the room exploded with Damian's screeching and everyone else's amusement.

Poor Bruce just looked bewildered.

"I-I didn't mean to say that," he muttered

It made Jason roar and double over.

"Your face!" he said between gasps

Bruce glared.

"Shut up, Murder Baby,"

It only made Jason laugh harder.

#bruce wayne #Jason Todd #batfamily #batdad #fluff #humor

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thorne93 · 5 years

Text

Stan Lee University (Part 7)

Prompt: What would the Avengers be like in college, more importantly, what would they be like if Y/N existed around them?

Word Count: 1877

Warnings: drama, language, betrayal

Notes: This is based on a HC from @carryonmyswansong. They helped brainstorm and write part of this series. In this AU, no one will have powers, everyone is a normal human. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong

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

The next morning, before your British literature class, your phone rang. You recognized it as the psychologist’s office for the internship. You picked it up on the second ring as you readied your backpack.

“Hello?”

“Miss Y/L/N?”

“Yes, this is she,” you spoke professionally.

“I wanted to go ahead and inform you about your position with the internship.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“We’ve decided to give it to another candidate.”

In less than a second, your world started crumbling. This was going to be perfect. It was going to build up your resume.

“Oh,” you finally said, masking your dejection well. “May I ask why?”

“Well it seems a classmate of yours spoke on your behalf that you’re involved in many campus extra curricular and you have a heavy load this semester.”

“Well, yes, but I’m pre-med, I thought that might make me stand out.”

“In this case, she shed light on the fact that it might just be too much to add an internship on top of that.”

“I see. Well I appreciate your honesty.”

“Thank you, and have a wonderful day.”

“You too.”

When you hung up, it took a lot of control not to hurl the phone across the room. How could Wanda do this to you? You’d worked so hard to get here, to have this, and she just sabotaged you like that? What had you ever done to her?

You walked into your class in a huff, slamming your books down.

“Bad day?” Loki mused evenly.

“Nope, it’s just grand,” you snapped sarcastically as you sat down.

“What’s got your lingerie in a twist?”

You blushed immediately at his words before realizing why you were pissed.

“It’s just this stupid internship. See, I applied and interviewed for this spot at a psychologist’s office. It would’ve been great and easy. It would’ve looked fantastic on my resume, right?”

He sat with his head resting on his hand, listening intently to you. He nodded.

“My friend Wanda, who’s also an psych major, applied for it too. Turns out she got an interview, which would be fine, but she went and told them that I have too much on my plate and that I couldn’t handle the internship.”

“That’s a dick move,” he agreed.

“Yeah, and I just don’t get it. Wanda doesn’t even really need this internship.”

“But you do?” he clarified.

“It’d look great for medical schools. I just don’t get why she did it.”

“Maybe you should talk to her about it.”

You shrugged, waving him off.

“No, that’s… It’s fine, I’m just… I lost the position, so I’m mad, but I’m hurt. She went behind my back, lied about me.” You huffed out some air. “There will be other internships though, right? This isn’t the last one there is.”

“That may be, but what if she does the same for other ones? What if word gets around from this psychologist’s office?”

“I doubt it would,” you said.

“Maybe not, but it is a small town, not a whole lot of opportunity here. Not to mention, word travels fast.”

At this, you contemplated more, musing, “Yeah… But still, I’ll just let it go. Be the bigger man.”

“You could do that,” he said, sitting back, shrugging. “Or you could let her know exactly why she’s a terrible friend.”

“Well, I’ll probably talk to her, alone… Maybe the interviewer misunderstood. Maybe she really has my best interest.”

“Ah yes, the ole ‘my rival and competition has my best interest at heart’. I do believe that’s the oldest moral of the story.”

You made a face at him, one of amusement and anger, to which he smirked.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” he challenged.

Your lips stayed sealed though. This didn’t add up. Wanda must’ve said something to sabotage you or the interviewer was highly mistaken.

At that, a smug smile painted across his beautiful lips and the professor began the lesson.

As soon as class ended, you asked Loki if he’d like to grab lunch. He said he’d love to. The two of you were walking across the courtyard when you overheard Wanda talking.

“And they called and said I got the internship!” she announced happily.

Your eyes narrowed as you found the source of the sound. When you finally found it, you saw Wanda, Pietro, Steve, Sam, and Pepper.

“That’s great, Wanda,” Pepper congratulated just as you walked up.

“Oh, Y/N,” Sam started when he saw you. “Did you hear Wanda got the internship?”

You turned to her with a fake smile on your face as Loki stood right next to you.

“Yes, I did. Did you all hear how she got it?” you asked and they seemed confused. “Well let me fill you in. A little birdie told me that someone lied about me and said I couldn’t handle it.”

All eyes shot to Wanda who looked irritated.

You dropped the act and immediately faced Wanda. “Yeah, I know exactly how you got it. Lying. What a great way to start off your career in a field that requires ethics, integrity.”

She pressed her lips firmly together.

“Are you calling my sister a liar?” Pietro asked.

“Stay out of this, Piet,” you warned, glancing at him. Your eyes went back to your so called friend. “Wanda, this is so high school. You didn’t have to lie to get the position. I hope you realize that. You could’ve been so much better. You could’ve talked up your grades, your extra credit stuff, but instead, you threw me under the bus. I just hope you can live with that on your conscience.”

You turned to walk away when Wanda stood up and said, “Yeah, well maybe you should’ve been a better candidate.”

You closed your eyes and smiled, turning back to her. “Wanda, I was the better candidate, that’s why you felt like you had to lie, and it pains me to see you start your career out lying to get a job. It’s a competition, I get it, but this is low.”

“At least I got the position. For once, I’m ahead of you.”

All you could do was scoff and shake your head as you walked away, Loki beside you.

“Can you believe that?”

“Mmm, yes, I can. People will do almost anything to claw their way to the top.”

“I just… we were friends, you know? I didn’t want to attack her like that in front of everyone but to hear her boasting about the job she stole from me. It just went right through me!”

“Let me buy your lunch,” Loki suddenly offered. “It’s the least I can do to get your mind off of things.”

“Thank you,” you said gently.

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

That night you and Loki hung out in your dorm room.

“I commend you for standing up for yourself today. You don’t see that a lot these days,” he said as he laid on his back, his head at the foot of your bed while you picked up your room. Soft music spilled into the room from your bluetooth speakers.

“Thanks. I don’t like being treated like shit. Couldn’t have done it without you though. I was ready to let it go.”

“Anything I can do to help.”

“I just can’t believe all our other friends believed her too. It’s like, I love Wanda. We’ve known each other forever. But seriously? If her name and mine are in a pile, do they seriously think they’re going to pick her over me?”

“The better resume wins the race,” he agreed.

“Exactly! Not to say she wouldn’t get it, but I’ve just got so much more under my belt.”

“Well you know she lied, so take solace in that.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I need to let this shit go though. You want to read through the next two chapters of the book?” you offered, wanting to get over this.

“Sure.”

“Want to role play it?”

He grinned and rolled over. “I thought you’d never ask,”

“You’re a drama queen,” you teased.

“Drama major, I’ll get back to you on the queen part.”

You shook your head and laughed, picking up your book.

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

Friday night, a party was going on, not the one you’d invited Stephen to, no.

No this was actually another party put on by Scott. As soon as you heard about it, you invited Loki to this party too. You figured if Loki was at least interested, you’d return the feelings. Strange had made it clear that you were nowhere on his radar, so why should he be on yours? Loki was witty, hot as hell, and actually fun to be around.

Around 8, he showed up at your door in black jeans and a dark green t-shirt, looking pretty damned delicious.

“Hey you,” you greeted happily.

“Hey. You look nice,” he noted.

You glanced back down to your ensemble, dark wash jeans with a white tank top and black mesh button down over it.

“Thanks, I try.”

“Funny, I never do and seem to look ravishing.” He fanned his hand at himself, as if to showcase himself to the world.

You rolled your eyes as you locked your door.

“How lucky for you,” you joked.

The two of you walked to Scott’s together as it was across the street from campus. It seemed rather lowkey. Music, drinks, and some snacks were laid out.

You first came across a few friends you had in a sociology class last semester and introduced everyone to Loki. Then Scott came in and hugged you, extremely excited to see you again. He shook Loki’s hand, a little too vigorously, but welcomed him.

Before you knew it, you two were circulating the party, saying hello to everyone you knew, and meeting some new faces together. Loki got you every drink you had that night and stayed by your side, joking with you, complimenting you, brushing your hair behind your ear.

It was really nice that for the first time since Bucky, you were with someone who wanted to make an effort at being with you. Maybe Loki would be different. You weren’t sure what it was. You cared for Bucky, when he was your friend, you were great but as soon as you got romantic or intimate, everything went to shit.

So hopefully, this was a different story.

Around 1 am, Loki walked you back to your dorm.

“Well I hope you had a good time,” you said with cheer in your voice. “I think everyone really liked you. You’re really charismatic.”

“So I hear,” he said with a small smile. “I did have a nice time. It was really cool to meet all of your friends.”

“Yeah, I’m glad they got to know you.”

Silence, followed by a brief awkwardness filled the air. You weren’t ready to kiss him goodnight, this was just the first date and you weren’t sure how you felt about Loki just yet so you broke the tension.

“Well, goodnight! Thanks for walking me back! I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

“Right,” he said with a head nod.

“See you tomorrow.” You grinned widely, opening your arms and Loki swept in and hugged you quickly.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

With that, you nodded and slipped inside your dorm.

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

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aconitemare · 4 years

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[jaydick] Before That, And Colder

Chapter 2

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AO3

A breeze lifts gently over the port, sweeping Dick’s dark curls from his face as he adjusts his tortoiseshell sunglasses on his nose. He smiles appreciatively at the valet who opens his door and quickly switches his call from bluetooth to phone. There’s no need for the valet to hear the frustrated growling on the other end of the line.

As he steps out, he deposits the keys to his sleek and silver Audi R8 Spyder — a recent gift from Bruce, justified as mission-based although Dick could see the quiet excitement in Bruce’s tugging lips when he led him to the Batgarage, understood this was a gift — into the valet’s open palm, along with a cash tip. “Thank you,” he mouths, hand cupping the receiver.

A recent stalker with a penchant for crowbars pushed Jason into requesting Tim’s — and, by extension, everyone else’s — help. Last night, he agreed to let Dick join Tim on surveillance; the stalker likes to leave Jason pictures of their assaults, which means it’s likely only a matter of time before they catch some distinguishing trait on camera. Unfortunately, time is of the essence and Jason is short four Outlaws and Dick gets antsy playing the waiting game. He’d rather investigate Red Hood’s Iceberg Lounge associates. He called Jason to update him on the change of plans the minute he pulled into valet and not a minute before.

“I mean it, N,” Jason insists. “Don’t come here. I don’t need bats up in my belfry. Vigilante-types make my guys nervous.”

“And you don’t?” Dick challenges. A bellhop removes a suitcase from the trunk and quickly wheels it past the shiny glass double doors, which another attendant holds open while Dick leisurely walks towards the entrance. Seagulls squawk, diving in and splashing upwards from the engulfing Atlantic. The air is cool and carries a light, briny taste.

“No, I make them terrified.”

“That’s a good thing, right?” asks Dick. “If they’re busy soiling themselves because the big bad Hood looked at them funny, they’ll hardly even notice me breathing down their necks. So to speak.”

“Wro-o-ong,” drawls Jason on the other end. Dick imagines him rolling his eyes, or maybe reclining in exasperation if he’s on a nice office chair. Jason is a casino-owner now, or something along those lines. He might even wear a tie. “Terrified is good for them. It makes them efficient. Nervous people get clammy hands and drop the ball,” explains Jason.

“They won’t even notice me,” Dick appeals. He nods politely at the door attendant and stops at the front desk for his room key, where another bellhop promptly escorts his luggage. He tries not to speculate inwardly over anyone’s salary here. He resolves to just tip very well, as the tried-and-true Wayne method of resolving one-percenter guilt.

“I’ll notice you.”

Key card in hand, Dick pushes his sunglasses over his bangs, tapping the desk in an appreciative gesture. He follows the direction the receptionist pointed out. “That’s flattering, Jase, but sounds like a you-problem,” he says absently. He’s watching the virtual fish that wade through the pixelated water of the lobby’s walls. Beside the crystal elevator is an extravagant fountain that burbles and gurgles. Dick inhales the air around him: filtered by salt, not chlorine. Nice touch, he thinks wryly. Though he doubts Cobblepot had anything directly to do with the interior design of this place.

“Har-har,” Jason responds without much humor. “Look, I’m not a complete jackass. I appreciate the help, trust you’re all fairly competent, etcetera, but this is my territory. I don’t swing into Bludhaven and criticize how you’re running things.”

The clamshell-shaped light switches on as a ding sounds. “Who’s criticizing?” Dick asks innocently. The doors part and Dick steps inside. The walls are crystal but not completely transparent, warped as they are by the cleavage and cast in a sickly blue light from above. There’s even air conditioning, which makes the confined space frigid. He’s certainly in the iceberg now.

Jason sighs into his speaker. “Nothing, absolutely nothing about the Iceberg Lounge is legal,” he confesses. This confession is not much of a revelation, however, as news of Red Hood’s latest operation circulated the bats via Batman more-or-less immediately. Jason shares major updates on the Underground he plans to infiltrate and, in exchange, Bruce turns a blind eye to the everything-else part. The whereabouts of the Lounge’s original owner, Mr. Cobblepot, is anyone’s guess — although everyone’s guess is pretty good.

Dick watches the number on the screen tick upwards. He can’t wait to be out of this icebox after mere seconds. He misses his first apartment in Bludhaven, the one with the dirty carpeted stairs and the humid lobby and the friends. The hotel’s design is foreign and cold by comparison, although if he’s being fair, most of Gotham has felt like that since his return.

He’s preoccupied by several thoughts and not giving his all to this conversation — which he did start, yes, but only out of courtesy to Jason. He’s mostly amused that Jason seems to expect Dick to crash through a window in full Nightwing get-up and arrest everyone on the spot. Then again, maybe Jason’s paranoia isn’t wholly unfounded. Tiger did always say Dick was a terrible spy.

For the sake of this conversation, however perfunctory, Dick pretends to gasp. “Jason!” he stage-whispers as the doors finally, gratefully, open. “Don’t tell me — is this a money laundering scheme?” He makes sure to add an extra dollop of shocked horror to his words.

Dick partly expects Jason to hang up on him, as people usually shut down when Dick tries on sarcasm for size. It’s not a good tone on him, he’s been told. That’s a miscalculation on Dick’s part, of course, because Jason isn’t affected by words the same way others are, especially Dick’s words. “Yeah, among other things,” Jason mutters instead. “Just stick to parking lot surveillance where my bike is, alright? You know, the original deal. No offense to you, but I don’t like people touching my shit. I’ll let you or some other bat-brat know if my human resources need outsourcing.”

Dick hums agreeably; he hadn’t expected Jason’s utmost cooperation anyway. It’s always best to obtain someone’s blessing, if he can, but permission just gets in his way. “‘No touching,’” Dick repeats as he wanders down the hall in search for his room. “Not a request I hear often,” he teases.

“Not a request, or I would’ve added please.”

3401, 3402, 3403, 3404...

“Yes, yes,” Dick placates. The floor here is a sandy-beige marble topped by a molding made entirely of tiny seashells. He resists the urge to crouch down and run his fingers against the texture. “If you won’t let me in your cool casino gang, then I can’t force you. Batman didn’t supply me with a gun to your head,” he assures.

3410, 3411, 3412…

On the other end, Jason snorts. “No, he just gave you a lifetime supply of entitlement and an annoying personality.”

3414, 3415, 3416…

“Hey, the latter was home-grown, thank you,” Dick defends, feigning offense. “Also, I unfortunately must end this conversation because — ”

The line goes dead. Dick removes the phone from his ear and frowns at it.

He discovers he likes this floor better, especially after the preternatural blue of the elevator. Here, the light is a warm yellow cast from plastic conch shells. The mosaic walls are made entirely of pale blue sea glass with waves of green rippling through. It’s an artistic take on the beach. An artful interpretation with central air conditioning.

He arrives at his room shortly after the phone call, sliding his key card in and waiting for the green light to appear with a short buzz. It does, and Dick pushes in to find his Coach suitcase already beside his California King bed. The style is less minimalist than he had expected, with bold blues and reds splashed across the walls in a lucky imitation of the violent sunsets over Bludhaven’s waterfront. Dick is almost nostalgic, he thinks.

The first thing Dick does is check for bugs. This takes some time, since Bruce called the hotel before Dick could and ordered his version of “modest and undercover,” which still qualifies as a suite. Dick doubts the room is bugged, as certainly most of the nefarious higher-ups’ attention would be paid to the casino and not the hotel. Still, best to begin and end all missions with routine since the middle parts always get too chaotic for formalities. Dick adapts better than Bruce himself does, but he still knows the value of order and tries to accommodate it when he can.

The minute corners of the ceiling and the floor are dustless. The carpet is soft and thick, Dick’s feet sinking in with each step. The nightstand has a phone, a notepad, a lamp, a service menu, and a casino itinerary, but no bible. Dick wonders who made that decision during the hotel’s design. The television is expansive, flat, and mounted across the wall facing the bed. The extravagance elicits from Dick the same feeling as if a giant mirror has been hoisted onto the ceiling too. Does Bruce also ever get disgusted by such ludicrous excess? Or has he become used to it, like a buzzing in his ear, like tinnitus? Bruce accumulates and accumulates, yet never seems to care for that accumulation one way or another. To be fair, though, Dick has never felt a certain way about grass being green. Or air having smells, as might be the better analogy; sometimes good, sometimes bad, but always taken for granted.

The sweep proves the room clean, as expected. Well, Dick has his own suspicions about government agents and corporate drones peering through the shiny flat-screen, but Lex is a busy man so Dick thinks he’s safe. This is the kind of spot-on humor Tim would appreciate if he hadn’t objected to tagging along. Tim is also a busy man apparently.

Evening won’t fall for another few hours, but Dick should get a head start on socializing. Deciphering who’s actually important, who’s within the Red Hood’s board of trustees, won’t be easy in the intoxicated, big-talking, narcissistic casino crowd. In preparation, Dick accessorizes with a range of subtle tools and weapons: a miniscule switchblade, disguised as a pendant and hidden under his shirt; bandages slipped into his jacket pocket; and a flask of disinfecting alcohol slipped into a pair of white boots. He’s roughing it in designer shoes.

Satisfied, Dick sticks his key card into his wallet and sets about trying his luck.

___

The casino keeps to the same ice-white theme as the hotel. The gaming floors shine like chromium, solid as a frozen lake. The floors winding between the games and shops and restaurants, however, are watery blue with digital fish splashing beneath guests’ feet. It’s novel, really, and it’s possible Dick might’ve even liked the whole schtick if it weren’t so Penguin-y.

The woman beside him places her hand on his wrist. From the ceiling plays an inoffensive pop song, the singer’s voice autotuned to sound as if coming from deep underwater. Dick smiles down at the woman. “Oh, sorry, were you trying to get my attention?”

She’s pretty in a forgettable way, with long blonde hair and a sloping nose. “No, no, sorry!” she says, pulling away clumsily as if remembering herself. She has a plastic water bottle on her, but no alcohol. Trying to sober up still. “I just thought you looked really familiar, like I might know you — ?” Her voice pitches upward at the end, waiting for him to finish her half-formed idea.

Dick communicates to the dealer he’s doubling down and pushes a stack of orange chips forward. He’s hoping the dealer will make a face, however unlikely that is, or do something to attract the attention of a supervisor. He wants to attract the house’s attention as subtly as possible, suss out anyone who might be high on the chain.

“I was at a televised event recently,” Dick responds, because he doubts they met personally. “The Wayne Foundation was heading a protest against the detention centers in Texas.” The girl’s mouth opens, gulping, fish-like, and Dick wonders if he should talk more about the protest or leave it at that. She’s impressed, but only hazily so, as if she’s recognizing the patterns of words and their moral virtue — foundation, protest, detention centers — but can’t make sense of the detail. Dick muses inwardly; it’s been a while since he was last inebriated, but he’s always been a drifting, Play-Doh-brained drunk like her. He’s tempted to order himself a drink, but that would be counterproductive to Mission: Find Jason’s Mole.

He initially tried chatting with the dealer directly, on the off-chance of information trickling down. She’s young, barely Dick’s age, and has shaved half her head in that edgy-punk-rock style Dick recalls Shawn being fond of. Unlike his ex-girlfriend’s cropped hair, which she had dyed with the same warning colors of poison dart frogs, the dealer’s is a natural black that tumbles down her shoulders. Dick did not get far with her as she gave only clipped responses. Now, from under her curtain of hair, she peers with sharp eyes that leap across players’ hands.

The man on his other shoulder slaps the table roughly, startling the dealer and dragging Dick’s attention away from the cards. “You’re one of Wayne’s kids!” he exclaims, pointing a finger. He has a faint Chinese accent ground out in gravelly tones. The knuckles are hairy but bejeweled with smooth rings, and the nails are perfectly manicured. “I’ve been looking at you, trying to figure out!”

Dick would’ve noticed him staring, in that case, but one doesn’t have to stare to watch. The thought alerts him momentarily and his eyes do a quick sweep of the floor again. I’ll give it another hour, he decides. If no one seeks me out, I’ll just have to go snooping.

“That would be me,” Dick confirms. He takes the man’s hand and they shake cordially.

“Should’ve known,” the man continues. “You always dress so — colorful.” He took a moment to decide upon the that adjective, but he doesn’t sound disrespectful so Dick grins. The man is right; Richie Grayson does generally go for the pastels. For the night, he’s dressed himself in a white blazer with muted paisley designs whirling across the silk. Over his breast rests a peach-colored pocket square to match the interior peach fabric he’s displayed by rolling the cuffs to his elbows. No tie, jacket left unbuttoned, and hair gelled carefully-carelessly: he’s the picture of insouciant extravagance.

His first time out with Damian as “Richie,” Damian was infuriated by the silly pastels and airheaded conversations Dick cloaked himself in. Damian ranted about Dick’s public persona being an “odious script he must’ve concocted as a bad joke.” Dick spares him the embarrassment of the truth, which is that Dick appreciates a vacation from himself. The breezy talks and airy outfits are less of a deep-cover character and more for fun. Of course, Damian is also embarrassed by his usual wardrobe of sweats and running pants, so Dick doesn’t bother trying to live up to the kid’s standards. They’re both just glad to have each other back. Dick has missed out on so much, but Damian hardly notices the changes in either of them. It’s because he’s still young and time isn’t finite yet. Childhood clings to Damian’s full cheeks and attitude. His stubborn youth relieves Dick. He’s missed out on a lot, but not everything.

“Yes, I keep up with Bruce Wayne, men like him,” the man at the table continues for explanation. He taps his head. “They’re smart. Can learn from them. Or I try to, at least.” With that, he laughs all the way from his gut. Dick can feel himself warming up as he often does around good-humored people. He can’t help it; he’s a sucker for laughter.

He buys drinks for the table, except for the woman, whom he buys another water. The hour drags on. He wishes he was playing poker and not blackjack, although poker gets too vitriolic for his tastes and doesn’t concern the house much, which is what he needs to do. He’s beginning to doubt his plan, though, and he wonders if it would be easier just to beg Jason to let him in on the case in full. He’s not going to do that however. He hadn’t expect a yes, but that doesn’t make Jason rejecting his help any less irritating. At this point, he’d prefer swimming with sharks ( again ) over playing nice with a guy who’d apparently rather get assassinated than just cooperate a little.

He’s close to leaving the table when he spots a person of interest. The man is on the shorter side, just shy of scrawny, with tan skin and dark hair. He’s not paying any attention to Dick, just meandering through the tables, but Dick recognizes him from Batman’s Teen Titans database. Miguel Barragan: otherwise known as Bunker, a former member of the Teen Titans and the current owner-on-paper of the Iceberg Lounge. Dick is almost giddy to have such a solid lead right off the bat. He quickly collects his winnings and bids everyone a goodbye, Miguel locked in his peripheral throughout.

He doesn’t approach Miguel directly; he’d probably alert Jason right away of his casino’s sneaky guest. Dick trusts his charisma to carry him through most confrontations, but he also considers anyone associated with Jason to be a bit of a wild card. He’s not sure how he could win Miguel over to his side because he’s not sure how Jason won Miguel over. Dick doesn’t understand how Jason wins anyone over — or, perhaps more accurately, how anyone wins Jason over. Dick hasn’t been able to parse out what grounds the amorphous Outlaws have been founded on, since their modus operandi changes as frequently as their roster and these outlaws seemingly share one characteristic, which is that they are all outlaws.

Dick is admittedly guilty of avoiding Gotham, focusing instead on reestablishing his life in Bludhaven after Spyral. He still receives updates, some of them about the Outlaws, whose guns sometimes shoot rubber bullets and other times kill. Batman occasionally sends the Outlaws on missions, making them either private contractors or accidental, honorary bats. Dick has long given up on deciphering and disarming Bruce’s relationships. Or maybe he hasn’t, since on the practical level, it is on Bruce’s behalf that Dick’s helping Jason. Dick responded to all of Bruce’s messages, albeit late, and Dick himself doesn’t know if his recent lateness is as accidental as he pleads. Dick’s life has always been hectic, yet he’s always made time for Gotham.

What is different now? Dick sees the past year like a literal timeline laid out before him, and if he could just follow that line, eventually he’d find what had changed. Maybe he’s missing a step, though, because he just keeps going back to the dormitory at St. Hadrian’s. He sees himself sitting on the twin-sized, standard-issued bed, back hunched, phone attached to his ear like a lifeline that might disintegrate at any moment. He hears himself leave a message for Mr. Malone; then Dick turns around, abandoning the scene before the line can disintegrate and he shares the same fate as this sad, forgotten figure on the bed.

Dick’s response to Bruce’s latest message was immediate, as Bruce probably assumed it would be. He dangled Jason’s vulnerability like a bait over Dick’s head. Dick, with the stench of death curling into his nostrils at the mere suggestion, took the hook in his mouth and allowed himself to be hauled aboard out of Bludhaven’s hazy depths. So he has resurfaced in Gotham, which he knows is for the best. It gives him the opportunity to right a wrong of his, when Jason first was in danger and Dick had busied himself elsewhere, away from Bruce.

Of course, Jason is not as helpless as he was in his Robin days. The Outlaws are fittingly named, operating more like a loose group of friends egging each other on than a true team (or so it seems to Dick, and indeed everyone else watching them in suspense), but they do pull through for the Hood. Miguel is one of these friends, and therefore likely knows about the Park Row victims and the photos, although whether his priority is Jason’s safety or Jason’s trust is up for debate. Dick has to play it safe and assume that Miguel would report his good intentions and have him thrown back into the parking lot to watch a bike. Or forced off the case altogether, Dick thinks with exasperation, as Jason is prone to theatrics and extremes. Roy and Kory, at least, he does not have to worry about, being off-planet with the Justice League. Artemis and Bizarro have recently disappeared, but Dick doesn’t write them off yet. In his experience, those whose lives defy death rarely stay gone for long. This is both a comfort and a conflict of interest.

He watches Miguel furtively; he accomplishes this by mingling gregariously, camouflaging himself within a dense thicket of drunken socialites. He works crowds consecutively, easing himself in and out of dialogues, his split attention unnoticed in an atmosphere that cultivates distraction. He keeps his face turned away from Miguel at all times. He moves his tortoiseshell sunglasses from his mussed hair to his eyes. He follows.

Miguel does not stay among the blackjack tables. He eventually moves towards the floor with the digital fish, his pace brisk but not hurried. Flashing shop signs and stumbling, moseying guests help blur Dick into the background. He wonders how long he can keep this up for and where he might end up. Best case scenario: Miguel talks to several key players in Red Hood’s operation for Dick to investigate and provides an insider’s look at the map of the casino before he can slip behind a door Dick can’t reasonably follow him through. Worst case scenario: Miguel notices he’s being followed by a weird man who wears sunglasses inside, confronts him, and Jason yells at him about respect and boundaries, as if those are things that exist in their makeshift family. Scenario of undecided goodness: Miguel is the leak and Dick catches him.

From a yard ahead, Miguel shifts his hand from the pocket of his slacks. He presses his ear, tilts his chin downward and to the side. An earpiece, for sure. He’s communicating with someone; perhaps Jason, Dick’s brain immediately supplies, and he does feel some guilt laden over the little kick he gets from the idea of pulling one over on the uncooperative prick. Dick gets his jollies from helping people against their will. Probably not everyone’s idea of fun, but his family just wouldn’t be his family without the unnecessary shadows cloaking every kind act.

Then Dick notices Miguel twist his head just slightly so that his eyes address the floor. Is he looking at Dick? Has he been caught? Dick hangs back, pausing to admire a shop window. He’s grateful for his sunglasses now, which enable him to keep track of Miguel’s progress. Hopefully he looks more eccentric than suspicious in them.

He melts back into the loose crowds once he’s confident Miguel has lost him. He knows Miguel took a right at the escalators, didn’t go up them. Dick keeps a bit of swagger in his walk, feigning leisure while taking broader steps than usual. He needs Miguel to lose track of him without losing track of Miguel himself.

Dick rounds the escalator corner, hands shoved in his pockets. A uniformed woman sweeps a plastic straw into a dustpan. He smiles graciously and sidesteps her. He glimpses Miguel’s figure retreating into a misshapen circle of the line spilling out of a burger joint. His body is swallowed whole by the hungry mass, absorbed neatly into the membrane of good-timers and luck-triers. Dick feels a little of the excitement go out of him. Where, really, can he get with this? He might have to pay Jason a visit as Nightwing after all.

Still, he may as well continue for a bit longer. He’s less than subtle while maneuvering through. His passage doesn’t feel half as smooth as Miguel’s looked. The people in line are glassy-eyed with dumb, slack-jawed smiles. Dick can’t help envisioning them as blind, newborn kittens under his feet. He pushes through in a series of mumbled apologies and penitent smiles. He receives, in return, a few blank smiles delivered on auto-pilot. Mostly he’s just ignored, which does irk him but he reasons that if they’re not bothered enough for a reply, then they’re content and so is he.

He finally breaches the wall of people. Miguel has stopped walking and stands, back facing Dick, near a bistro. A waitress, tufts of blonde locks sticking up like macaroni, intercepts the two of them, carrying a tray from the bistro to the nearest gaming floor. She all but waddles in the standard short white dress and tiny black blazer, throat pinned to her head with a stiff bowtie. When she passes, Dick realizes Miguel is not alone. Leaning against a load-bearing stalagmite is someone else, sneakered heel digging into the floor with their toes pointed up, their fists plunged into the pocket of a pullover. A hood hides their face, though the tip of a nose peeks out. Dick takes a step forward only to be reeled backwards, shoulder jerking where a hand has caught it.

Dick nearly grabs the hand and yanks, but remembers his surroundings and stifles the impulse. He lets himself be dragged towards an unmarked set of double doors. A small box is mounted to the wall in front of him, and another hand reaches out to wave a card over it. A light flashes green and buzzes. Dick’s feet have to dance for purchase as he’s pulled awkwardly by his side. The second the doors swing shut behind them, Dick breaks out of the grasp. His shades have slid down his nose and he pushes them up. He has time to recognize the people milling about as normal employees, some resting in chairs with stained cushions and others carting hampers and vacuums or talking into radios. Name badges abound.

The hand roughly grabs him by the collar. “Easy!” scolds Dick at the same time he gets a good look at the person attached. He’s a big guy with furry arms that could constrict a boa. A gray vest stretches over his broad frame, accentuating his size as well as any muscle tee. He wears a high collar fastened with a wide tie. His throat is as thick as a tree trunk, though, and the overall effect is that of an ill-fitting leash.

“I don’t work here, what are you doing?” Dick demands. He doubts the casino employees here are expecting dignity anyway. Maybe he should even try for tipsy, just to put on a show for anyone watching him get hauled across the room from the scruff of his neck by Hulk Hogan. This has all turned out surprisingly well for him, really. Whoever this guy is, he’s not a hero.

“Behave,” the man orders as he shoves Dick — unnecessarily roughly, for that matter — through another set of double doors. These ones give way without identification.

Dick skips nimbly forward so he doesn’t fall on his face. The man’s hand is on his neck again in an instant, which screams overkill considering Dick hasn’t put up a fight or attempted escape. “‘Behave’?” Dick quotes. “What am I, your long-lost son?”

“Good question,” says the man. The walls here are more eggshell than snowfall with air pockets bubbling beneath the wallpaper. People with name badges eye them curiously but say nothing. Dick wonders how anyone would get rescued in this heads-down atmosphere. It occurs to him, grimly, that they probably wouldn’t.

“Is it?” Dick prods. “Did someone forget to file for a paternity test?”

“What are you, smartass.”

Fingers tighten around his neck, a warning to behave or a threat for what’s to either way. Dick guesses it’s the latter and replies, “What is manhandled, for 300.”

“Yup, keep it up,” the man replies. He takes a sudden left, Dick spinning after like a sidecar held to the driver by a rope. There’s another box-shaped scanner around the corner, presumably for the narrow, metal door adjacent. This device doesn’t scan from afar but requires insertion, and the man feeds it a different card from the one before. There’s no buzz or green light. Just the same, the knob turns easily in the man’s grip.

“Lot of doors here,” Dick observes at the same time that he’s unceremoniously launched, face first, through a door.

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#jaydick #dickjay #fanfiction for the void #dc

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drtanstravels · 5 years

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When I finished my previous post we had wrapped up the Midwest Ocular Angiography Conference at the Four Seasons Resort and Residences in Jackson, Wyoming the previous night and were just about to begin the holiday leg of our trip through the Pacific Northwest of the USA.

Wednesday, July 10, 2019 We had our lunch at the Four Seasons with Tony, the pharmaceutical representative from Chicago we had met at the conference, and now it was time for us to hit the road. We got in our white, rental Toyota Corolla and it needs to be said, Anna does a great job of driving on the opposite side of the road and there were some confusing roads and intersections to deal with in this area. Wifi was almost nonexistent so we had to either try and make the most of the one bar of connection we had while in a town to find our destination on Google Maps or simply resort to paper maps, something I would have to do a lot over the coming days in order to navigate, making me sometimes feel more than a little carsick. In fact things were so remote we couldn’t even get a radio reception and it looked like we’d just be listening to static for the next couple of hours until I was finally able to get my phone to pair with the car’s stereo via bluetooth, allowing us to listen to the music I had saved on iTunes. If we had to rely on Spotify, we would’ve been screwed. It really didn’t take that long to make our way deeper into Grand Teton National Park, where we would be spending that night:

Grand Teton National Park is an American national park in northwestern Wyoming. At approximately 310,000 acres (480 sq mi; 130,000 ha; 1,300 km2), the park includes the major peaks of the 40-mile-long (64 km) Teton Range as well as most of the northern sections of the valley known as Jackson Hole. Along with surrounding national forests, these three protected areas constitute the almost 18,000,000-acre (7,300,000 ha) Greater Yellowstone Ecosystem, one of the world’s largest intact mid-latitude temperate ecosystems.

The human history of the Grand Teton region dates back at least 11,000 years, when the first nomadic hunter-gatherer Paleo-Indians began migrating into the region during warmer months pursuing food and supplies. In the early 19th century, the first white explorers encountered the eastern Shoshone natives.

Grand Teton National Park is an almost pristine ecosystem and the same species of flora and fauna that have existed since prehistoric times can still be found there. More than 1,000 species of vascular plants, dozens of species of mammals, 300 species of birds, more than a dozen fish species and a few species of reptiles and amphibians inhabit the park.

One of many meese in the area

To be honest, neither Anna nor myself is particularly interested in fly-fishing, which is extremely popular there, but we do like the outdoors, hiking, and checking out the wildlife so we would be doing plenty of that over the coming days. In fact, we learnt an easy way for spotting animals almost immediately; if you see a whole heap of cars pulled over on the side of the road and a bunch of people staring and pointing into the distance, there is usually something worth pulling over and seeing. On the first occasion it was a female moose (above, right) grazing in a small body of water. It was obviously female, because it didn’t have antlers, but this got us immediately wondering if there might be more moose around, particularly male ones. Then I got a little irritated when it occured to me that the moose is a member of the deer family so the name is an invariant, the plural form still being “moose”, not “meese.” It seemed like such a wasted opportunity, but never mind, that wouldn’t stop me from referring to them as “meese.” Nothing could.

Another stop en route to our destination would be Jenny Lake, a popular hiking area through some of the tallest peaks in the Teton Range, in order to trek a portion of the Cascade Canyon Trail. We would take a boat, the humorously named “Beaver Dick Leigh” (which I later discovered was named after Richard “Beaver Dick” Leigh), from South Jenny Lake across to the the entrance of Cascade Canyon and hike up to the well-signposted Hidden Falls, then past the Jaw and the Rock of Ages, down to Lake Solitude, along the way passing that family from Oregon with whom we went whitewater rafting the previous day and Anna having to keep the sole attached to a busted hiking shoe with a hair-tie, before finally making our way back down to Jenny Lake and catching the “Beaver Dick Leigh” back across to our car. Besides squirrels, we didn’t really see any wildlife, but the scenery was pretty spectacular. See for yourself:

Entering Grand Teton National Park

Token panoramic shot

Our ride across the lake

And we’re off

It looks cold but it surprisingly wasn’t

I guess that’s one way to stop lake pirates

Almost there

following the river

Hidden Falls isn’t all that hidden

I’m dressed like I work there

The beginning of the trail

Still going

Anna getting a bit ahead of me

Not a bad way of spending an afternoon

One of many squirrels we would see

Looking down on some trees

Teton Range

We didn’t encounter any bears… yet!

To say the water is clear would be like saying it is also damp

Now that we were done with the hiking we had to find our way to the ranch where we were staying. That’s right, ranch. We were staying at the Heart Six Guest Ranch, which claims to be “One of the oldest dude ranches in America,” located just outside Grand Teton National Park and right near the south gate of Yellowstone National Park. Another fact to add was that the ranch stunk strongly of horse manure, an odour that you could almost taste, one that never disappeared, but also one that permeated everything until you just became acclimatised to it. One good thing about staying in this region is that it stays light until about 9:30pm each night so we didn’t have to worry about locating the ranch in the dark, but when we eventually found it, we were surprised to also see covered wagons and teepees on the grounds. We would definitely have to explore them a bit more in the morning, because I want to know how Native Americans could tolerate the cold nights here in just a teepee! When we arrived we checked in, noting the wildly swinging ceiling fan in the ranch’s reception, along with the multitude of mosquitoes and other insects in the general vicinity. Once done we didn’t go to our room, instead opting to drive down to a nearby river in the hope of seeing some animals, as dusk is apparently the prime time for spotting wildlife. Unfortunately, we didn’t encounter a whole lot, just a couple of female deer enthusiastically spotted in the distance by some fellow tourists, a large, slowly moving mound on the opposite bank of the river that was apparently a beaver (but realistically it could’ve been almost anything), and some spiders. I did, however, manage to snap the photo of the mountains with the purple sky that I used for the featured image for this post while we were there.

We returned to the “Dude Ranch” and asked the guy working in reception where there was to eat. There were apparently two options, one of which the receptionist said in no uncertain terms was “shit.” We walked outside and there was a man in a cowboy hat passing us so we asked him for his recommendation, to which he replied the other option out of the two was “shit.” We weren’t expecting to find ourselves in a culinary hotspot, but in our experience there people were more willing to tell you which was the worst out of the two restaurants, as opposed to which one they preferred, and thus far the consensus was split 50/50. Not a good sign so we opted for the closest which was on the grounds of the ranch — It was shit. There was probably only about 15 minutes until the kitchen closed and there was a family on a table behind us where the mother, similar in appearance to what you see in ‘Karen’ memes, was going to snap. She was constantly complaining to our waiter and bitching at her kids, but it was the waiter that I felt bad for. This tall, gangly guy with long, blonde hair in a ponytail with a fringe, a curly moustache, and suspenders over a t-shirt was frazzled — It can’t be easy being the only hipster in a tiny town, as well as the only employee in the town’s restaurant. When the family was ordering, the mother asked if there were any gluten-free options, to which the waiter replied that nothing they serve would be truly gluten-free, because they cook everything on the same grill and don’t really clean it. She just let out an audible, dissatisfied sigh and ordered a random dish. I’m not sure if he was cooking the food too, but it took quite a while to come out and it most likely wasn’t because they were busy cleaning in the kitchen. That family were there first so their food arrived before ours and the mother still wasn’t happy, going on a rant about the poor quality of their dinner. Ours eventually arrived and it was pretty bad too; a tough steak each and french fries that weren’t just crunchy, but hard as if they had kept all of the leftover, uneaten fries aside over the course of the evening and then refried them all at the end for our meals — It’s pretty hard to screw up fries, but they managed somehow. Still, we just smiled and gnawed on our steaks and crunched our fries, because we didn’t want to ruin the waiter’s night any further, he seemed close to tears.

Once we had got through the bulk of our dinner we decided to have a look around this part of the ranch, including the lounge area and the bar. As had been the case in Jackson and is probably a theme running through all ranches, there was a heap more taxidermy within those walls. Inside the lounge there was a kid being shown how to play pool by an older man, people sitting around reading books, and a stoned-looking guy admiring a stuffed animal head mounted on the wall, looking at it in the same way that a person takes in a renaissance masterpiece in a European museum. He giggled and pointed out to me that it had a weird horn in the middle of its head that would block its vision when it looked to the side. I mentioned that its eyes were on the sides of it head so it probably wouldn’t have had true peripheral vision anyway and the horn could just be the result of poor taxidermy. He seemed to take this onboard and continued to study this felled beast. Anna and I decided to take in other areas of the building such as the small bar with incredibly uncomfortable looking saddles on top of the barstools, when the guy staring at the head came running up, appearing relieved to have finally located me. “It’s a caribou!” he yelled while laughing hysterically, obviously having asked someone else, because he wouldn’t have been able to Google it unless he could get on one of the two occupied computers in the lounge.

We weren’t going to be staying in a teepee or a covered wagon, we just went up to our ugly room and hit the sack for the night. We were told when we checked in that the rooms in the part we were staying had only just been completed and when we got up there we saw that it was really basic; the walls were just plywood and everything appeared to be unfinished and really cheaply done so we could hear everything happening in the neighbouring rooms, all the while trying to make contact with as few surfaces as possible in order to avoid getting splinters. It also smelled of turpentine and there wasn’t a TV or wifi for a distraction so we just showered and went to sleep. A look around the ranch and our room:

Part of the outside area of our ranch at dusk

Me in the ranch’s restaurant with the angry mum behind me

Anna from the other side of the restaurant

Inside the lounge area

Some heads on the wall

The caribou with its weird centre horn

Inside the bar

Those stools don’t look comfortable at all

Our bed for the night

Thursday, July 11, 2019 Maybe it was just the jet-lag catching up with me, but I had a mild epileptic seizure that morning in my sleep. It wasn’t anything major, I still remember waking up immediately afterward and snoring heavily while trying to get back to sleep, but it would leave me feeling kind of lethargic, however, I wasn’t going to let it prevent me from making the most of the day. We also couldn’t sleep much, because there was construction going on outside our room from the early morning onward, as well as people speaking loudly just outside.

We knew that the restaurant in the ranch was terrible and we hadn’t heard sparkling reviews about our only other option so we didn’t bother with breakfast, we just went down to a convenience store, breathing in the fragrance of horse shit the entire way and passing our waiter from the previous night, a defeated-looking man now hanging out towels. We just hoped for better results than the last time we were in a convenience store and we didn’t do too badly, just a couple of average cups of coffee and I grabbed a Hunter’s Reserve Roadkill meat stick. It may sound like a bad double entendre and due to the word “roadkill” being a registered trademark, I have my doubts that it did contain any actual roadkill, however, “meat from feral swine” was one of the listed ingredients. Anyway, I ate the roadkill stick and stuck the wrapper in my pocket, because there were no bins around. We did one last look around, taking in the covered wagons and teepees around Heart Six Ranch and was surprised to see that they were actually quite modern on the inside, almost to the extent of our room, except for the fact that the people staying in them needed to use a communal toilet, something that is kind of a dealbreaker for Anna and I. A better look around the ranch in the light of day:

This doesn’t just apply to cowboys, there is crap EVERYWHERE!

The wagon accommodation

That’s where the smell is coming from

Some of the teepees

I don’t think it would be big enough in one of those for the both of us

So long, poop ranch

About to gnaw on some “Roadkill”

Before long we were back in the car, bound for the world famous Yellowstone National Park (no, not Jellystone):

Yellowstone National Park is an American national park located in Wyoming, Montana, and Idaho. It was established by the U.S. Congress and signed into law by President Ulysses S. Grant on March 1, 1872. Yellowstone was the first national park in the U.S. and is also widely held to be the first national park in the world. The park is known for its wildlife and its many geothermal features, especially Old Faithful geyser, one of its most popular features. It has many types of ecosystems, but the subalpine forest is the most abundant. It is part of the South Central Rockies forests ecoregion.

Yellowstone National Park spans an area of 3,468.4 square miles (8,983 km2), comprising lakes, canyons, rivers and mountain ranges. Yellowstone Lake is one of the largest high-elevation lakes in North America and is centered over the Yellowstone Caldera, the largest supervolcano on the continent. The caldera is considered an active volcano. It has erupted with tremendous force several times in the last two million years. Half of the world’s geysers and hydrothermal features are in Yellowstone, fueled by this ongoing volcanism. Lava flows and rocks from volcanic eruptions cover most of the land area of Yellowstone.

Hundreds of species of mammals, birds, fish, and reptiles have been documented, including several that are either endangered or threatened. The vast forests and grasslands also include unique species of plants. Yellowstone Park is the largest and most famous megafauna location in the contiguous United States. Grizzly bears, wolves, and free-ranging herds of bison and elk live in this park. The Yellowstone Park bison herd is the oldest and largest public bison herd in the United States.

That all sounds pretty cool and if you took the time to read that Yellowstone background information, you would have seen that it mentioned a geyser called Old Faithful, the eruption of which we wanted to witness that day:

Old Faithful is a cone geyser located in Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming, United States. It is a highly predictable geothermal feature, and has erupted every 44 to 125 minutes since 2000.

Eruptions can shoot 3,700 to 8,400 US gallons (14,000 to 32,000 L) of boiling water to a height of 106 to 185 feet (32 to 56 m) lasting from 11⁄2 to 5 minutes. The average height of an eruption is 145 feet (44 m).

The time between eruptions has a bimodal distribution, with the mean interval being either 65 or 91 minutes, and is dependent on the length of the prior eruption. Within a margin of error of ±10 minutes, Old Faithful will erupt either 65 minutes after an eruption lasting less than 21⁄2 minutes, or 91 minutes after an eruption lasting more than 21⁄2 minutes.

The drive to Yellowstone took us through some gorgeous scenery, bringing us within six miles (10 km) of the Idaho state line, through mountains and alongside rivers until we were finally where we needed to be. Old Faithful wasn’t due to erupt for another 30 minutes or so when we arrived, but remember there is a ±10 minute margin of error, meaning it could be anywhere between 20 and 40 minutes. We had a look around the stores nearby, used the bathroom and grabbed a drink, then we went outside and pulled up a seat on the wooden, colosseum-like benches and waited for the show to begin:

Anna killing time

A lot of people show up to see this thing erupt

youtube

Once the geyser had finished doing its thing the bulk of people watching began applauding for some reason, however, a lot of people here do that when their plane lands as well and you know for a fact that that pilot has successfully landed every single flight he’s flown. Others complained that the geyser was three minutes early which was kind of amusing, mainly because it doesn’t follow a set schedule, rather people make educated guesses with reasonable accuracy as to when it will erupt and within three minutes is a pretty decent guess.

We then spent the bulk of the day hiking around the grounds, although this left me a little breathless at times, probably a combination of the altitude and the seizure that morning, but we saw some incredible sights. Photos don’t do justice to hydrothermal features so before I post the pictures from around the park, I’ll add some more videos of individual ones we came across:

youtube

Anna and a pool

Me on a pathway

A closeup of the pool

Looking over the general vicinity

Another closeup

Something erupting

Overlooking some of the pathways

That’s a really bright flower!

Once we were done in Yellowstone National Park it was time to start driving toward the state of Montana, our home for the next couple of nights, and twice along the way we saw a bunch of cars pulled over to the side and people staring out at something. As I mentioned, that means there is something worth seeing and we wouldn’t be disappointed on either occasion.

First we would be stopping by one of the numerous geyser basins that follow Firehole River to see yet more hydrothermal spots. This area was crowded and the features there were incredible yet again. On this occasion I had a middle-aged guy with a big beard start laughing at my “Let’s Summon Demons” t-shirt, asking his 14-year-old daughter over to admire it. As it would turn out, she and a group of friends had recently got in a bit of trouble with both teachers and police for conducting satanic rituals and dad was more than proud, both him and his daughter wanting to find where they could get the shirt as well. Ultimately just settling for a picture with me.

We ended up stopping further along the river, this time to stop and watch and entire herd of elk that were making their way upstream. At this point we hadn’t seen a whole lot of wildlife so it was a sight for us to behold:

At the geyser basin

Flowing into the river

This shirt got me a bit of love

A panoramic shot of the area

Another part upriver

Just a small portion of the elk from a distance

Some of them feeding

The next stop would be our last one for the day, we would be traveling to Bar N Ranch, but we wouldn’t be staying in their regular accommodation, not by a long shot. From Memorial Day to Labor Day, or May 23 until September 8, when there isn’t too much snow, the ranch opens Under Canvas and Anna had booked for us to go glamping in a tent in the middle of nowhere. That’s no typo, for those unaware of the term, “glamping” is a conjunction of “Glamorous Camping.” I mentioned earlier that Anna doesn’t tend to like roughing it and despite the fact we were going to be staying a tent, she would by no means be getting in touch with nature. We were going to be staying in a Stargazer tent, described on their website as:

Stargazer

The Stargazer has its own viewing window above the king bed to stargaze at night. The ensuite bathroom in your tent includes a shower, sink and toilet. A wood stove keeps the tent warm at night and a private deck allows you to enjoy the outdoors.

Sleeps up to 4

Private bathroom

Key Features

Superior view with night sky viewing window

King size bed with luxurious linens

Private bathroom complete with shower, sink & flushing toilet

Additional camp cots and bedding can be provided for up to 2 people

Definitely an upgrade from staying in a sleeping bag under a tarpaulin, the type of camping that I was used to. Hell, it turned out our tent even had its own indoor fireplace with a sealed flue going outdoors. We drove down there, but there are a lot of cattle surrounding the entrance due to a cattlegrid stopping them exiting the premises so we couldn’t enter until a woman coaxed all of the cows away from the road. Once down the path we checked in and were chauffeur-driven in a golf cart, along with our luggage, to our super-luxurious tent and this wasn’t like anything I was expecting. We got everything arranged, then went to the main area of Bar N Ranch to have dinner, which turned out to be a great meal, and then it was back to our tent. It was a cold night and our shower had hot water, but it took a little while to kick in. Also, the only way to keep the hot water running was to be continually pulling down on a handle, otherwise it it would just cut off, leaving you standing there naked and wet on a freezing night. Anna discovered the best approach was to put soap on the sponge and toothpaste on the brush before getting in, that way you never had to release your grip on that handle. While I was in the shower, she also thought she had found some biscuits on the fireplace, but wasn’t really hungry — It was a good thing, because they turned out to be firelighters. I was pretty tired by the time I got into bed, our tent had a clear panel above the pillow area so I put on an eye-mask and we both went to sleep. This is where we would be spending the next two nights:

Waiting for the cattle to move

Anna out the front of Bar N Ranch

The view from our tent

Inside the restaurant

Another area of the restaurant

…and another

Glamp Montana

Inside our tent

Looking toward the bathroom

Anna ready for bed

Our shower

Pretty luxurious for a tent

Another part of the bathroom

Anna’s biscuits

Friday, July 12, 2019 Anna was already awake and reading by the time I awoke, which was still quite early. She hadn’t worn her eye-mask to sleep so she woke as soon as the sun rose over the clear panel above us in our tent, but no mask could block out the glare, waking me not long after and helping me avoid getting sunburnt. Factor in the jet-lag that was still affecting us and it becomes clear we yet again weren’t really destined for a long sleep.

The plan for the day was to do a little backtracking from Montana into Wyoming to Gallatin National Forest, an area near where we were the previous day, first stopping off at Gibbon Falls and then making our way down into the Mammoth Hot Springs area of Yellowstone National Park for some hiking, hopefully encountering something a little bigger than an elk this time. Before we left we took a look around where we were staying, this time in the broad daylight, me realising as we were walking that the previous day I hadn’t discarded of the wrapper of my roadkill jerky, instead just stuffing it in my pocket. This wasn’t a particularly bright move because, although we were hoping to see some bears from a reasonable distance, I didn’t want the smell of meat attracting any to me directly. I’ve never even really been in a fight before so I don’t like my chances of fending off a grizzly bear, I’d more than likely just instinctively play dead. Probably should pop that wrapper in a bin. The place where we were staying felt bad about some of the food we had been served in the area so far so they allowed us to buy packed lunches from their really good restaurant and we were off. We drove down to Gibbon Falls, a waterfall currently with a drop of approximately 84 feet (26 m) and constantly growing as it erodes the rock below, and we noticed what we had seen time and time again not only the day before, but had also noticed on several previous trips spent exploring the outdoors — That a lot of women traveling from a country that shares its name with the material from which fine teacups and saucers are made choose fashion over function. We particularly noticed it in Turkey where these women would be walking around caves and other geological features wearing high end dresses and heels when hiking attire is far more appropriate, preventing injuries and allowing you to access more areas. Now a lot of them had been wandering around Yellowstone, some even rocking a pair of stilettos, and we hadn’t seen the last of them. Anyway, Gibbon Falls was really nice, here’s a look at our morning up until that point:

Anna waiting outside our tent

Some of the other tents in Under Canvas

An area for outdoor dining

Not the worst heels we saw, but still not appropriate outdoors footware

Gibbon Falls from the side

Looking over the falls

Gibbon Falls from the front

Next we were going to make our way to a kind of unnamed town in the Mammoth Hot Springs Historic District, first to eat our packed lunches, then to go to the Horace Albright Visitor Center to get us some information about where we could go hiking and potentially see some big furry things. A little more about the Mammoth Hot Springs Historic District, an area that looks a hell of a lot like a town, operates like a town, but apparently isn’t a town:

The Mammoth Hot Springs Historic District in Yellowstone National Park comprises the administrative center for the park. It is composed of two major parts: Fort Yellowstone, the military administrative center between 1886-1918, and now a National Historic Landmark, and a concessions district which provides food, shopping, services, and lodging for park visitors and employees.

Fort Yellowstone is a carefully ordered district of substantial buildings that clearly indicate their military origins. The U.S. Army administered the park from 1886 to 1918 when administration was transferred to National Park Service. The park headquarters is now housed in the original double cavalry barracks (constructed in 1909). The Horace Albright Visitor Center is located in the old bachelors’ officers quarters (constructed in 1909).

The concessions district contrasts with the military district, with a less formal arrangement and style and includes the Mammoth Hot Springs Hotel and Dining Room, a gas station, and retail stores. The Yellowstone Main Post Office, itself on the National Register of Historic Places sits just north of Fort Yellowstone. The residential area includes houses designed by architect Robert Reamer.

So despite having a residential area, retail stores, and even a post office, it still doesn’t qualify as a town, just a “Concessions District.” That explains why I was so confused trying to figure out the location when I first started writing this part of this post, even the locations on the photos I took aren’t accurate.

Anyway, as we were driving into the town concessions district our path to the main parking area was obstructed by a couple of deer making their way across in front of us, which was not a bad start. We ate our packed lunches from Under Canvas then, as we were making our way to the Visitor Center we had to walk pass the town concessions district square, a patch of grass between the two main streets that was teeming with female elk, all just hanging around, some laying down, others eating. I took some pictures, but as I went in to get a slightly closer shot I was accosted by a park ranger. “You must remain 25 yards or 22.8 metres away from all wildlife at all times!” he screamed in a well-rehearsed fashion, but you would think that if it were really that important they would put up at least one sign in the town concessions district. In fact, the only place it was even mentioned was on a flyer from the Visitor Center, however, you needed to walk past the animals to get the flyer. Once in the Visitor Center we stocked up on some supplies such as sunblock and insect repellent as the mosquitoes and horseflies in this area are awful! Anna wondered whether we should get some bear spray, but to me it all seemed like a bit of a scam; the stuff is US$50.00 (currently about AU$72.50) per can and we hadn’t even seen any bears! It was also possible to rent bear spray from some places, but the stuff doesn’t act as a repellent, more like a form of mace for use on bears, and I figured if a grizzly bear was intent on attacking you, spraying mace in its face would only piss it off more so we opted against it.

We got ourselves some maps and were soon on our way, hiking on an uphill path, walking for about 15 minutes when we were approached by an excited looking tourist from New Zealand and her two young children coming the opposite direction. She told us that just a bit further up the hill was a female grizzly bear with two young cubs and it was a bit angry, scaring her kids. We asked her if she thought it was safe for us to continue and she replied, “Oh, sure, you’ll be fine as long as you have your bear spray.” Shit. We walked back down into the town concessions district, forked out the US$50.00 and got us some bear spray.

Take two. We started to make our way uphill again, this time equipped with our bear spray in a hip holster, a liquid with its ingredients listed as 2% capsaicin and 98% “Other ingredients”. This stuff must be pretty strong, possibly even working on the power of suggestion, because after over an hour of anticipating encountering a defensive grizzly bear and its cubs we came to the conclusion that there were now three possibilities:

The bears were substantially further away than the woman had led us to believe,

The bears were gone, or

The woman was working for the bear spray company

I even began to wish I had now kept the Roadkill wrapper in my pocket in the hopes of attracting one. Still, we kept going, hiking for about five hours, covering over 15 km (9.3 miles) of rugged terrain, getting caught in the rain and mauled by mosquitoes, just to see a couple of does, which quite possibly could’ve been the same one multiple times, one male deer, plus a couple of squirrels here and there. As our hike continued, I became more and more annoyed at how anticlimactic it had been; I was now exhausted, wet, and extremely itchy, yet we had seen hardly anything, encountering not only more wildlife, but cooler-looking animals in the town concessions district! We stopped off briefly to have a look at the Mammoth Hot Springs and then decided to head back. To add insult to injury, there was a female elk sitting right next to our car, but screw that 25 yard rule, I wasn’t in the mood to let this thing stop me from getting in our car. If I needed to be 25 yards away from the wildlife, it could do its part on this occasion and move away from me. Some scenes from the town concessions district centre and the little we saw on a disappointing, albeit trying, hike:

Parking the car

Interesting name

The centre of the “Concessions District”

A closeup of some elk

Looking over the concessions district as we begin our hike

Heading back to the store

Now equipped with bear spray

Seems like there’s some around

It’s all good, I’ve got bear spray

2% capsaicin, 98% other ingredients

Safety first

How to use our spray

A small portion of the area we hiked

A doe we saw

Possibly the same doe later

Mammoth Hot Springs

A nearby deer

Mammoth Hot Springs from a distance

She can get 25 yards away from me

That night we went into a real town, West Yellowstone, Montana for dinner with the intent of eating a bison or bear steak out of spite, because we sure didn’t encounter any on our hike. Instead, we settled for a ribeye and some damn good devilled eggs, all of which we shared between us, and then we headed back to our tent for a final night before moving on to the next stop.

Initially I was going to try and tell the story of this trip in two parts, but it turns out I will need a third and final post in order to tell it properly. Where would we be staying next? Would we encounter any wildlife worth writing about? And would I have to wear that hideous cowboy shirt again to a rodeo? Stay tuned for the conclusion of our journey through cowboy country!

Embarking on the vacation leg of our trip through Wyoming and Montana When I finished my previous post we had wrapped up the Midwest Ocular Angiography Conference at the Four Seasons Resort and Residences in Jackson, Wyoming the previous night and were just about to begin the holiday leg of our trip through the Pacific Northwest of the USA.

1 note · View note

detginski · 6 years

Text

A tattoo for a lengthen hand hold

Human!RK900 x reader

tattoo artist au with flower shop au hehehe

writing for self indulgence also bcs muirail gave me this idea and its lit as shit

as usual, word vomit + shitty writing + lining words together to make some sense. mckfing enjoy muah muah

It’s been a slow day at the parlor. You were supposed to have an appointment now but the customer canceled last minute due to some things they can’t avoid. So here you are, hanging on the bench infront of the parlor, smoking and watching the world go by. It was a chilly kind of lazy day, you enjoy the sound of people chattering excitedly at the cafe right down the streets, the soft sound of machine whirring inside the parlor and you look up at the bright and colorful shop right across the street from the parlor. You smiled against your cigarette when you notice the older Anderson talks to his plants as he waters them. Over the time you worked there, you develop a little bit of crush towards that man. It was not your fault that you fell for the charming smile he gives to the customer or when he just looks so serene and handsome when he checks out the flowers at the shop like its the most amazing thing he has seen. Oh how you wished he looked at you like that. Your crushing was made apparent when Gavin pointed it out one day. And everyone in the tattoo parlor sees it and agrees on the fact that you are very much very inlove with the man who only spares you a few words of greeting. Gavin always teases you whenever Nines opens up his shop or whenever he walks by the parlor and if you were tattooing someone at the moment, you would put your tattoo gun down and watch him walk by.

You threw your cigarette butt in the almost filled ash tray beside you and walked across the street towards the shop. You knocked on the window, smiling and waving when the man on the other side of the glass turned to look at you. You could see him restraining himself on giving you an eyeroll. Lets just say your charisma check is always a critical fail the d20 dice whenever you talk to him. Because of your shitty social skill, you weren't exactly on his ‘favourite person’ list because of that one incident where you accidentally embarrassed him in front of his customers. Well, it wasn’t your fault that when you learnt his name is Richard, you thought his nickname was Dick. And that got you downgraded from ‘eh im okay with them’ person to ‘what the fuck is this weirdo still here’ person. But you are still on his ‘tolerable person’ list and you get to call him by his actual nickname, Nines. You see him putting down his watering can and walked out of the shop to lean on the window you just knocked.

“So what secrets did the plants tell you today?” You mentally punched yourself in the face for that shit conversation starter. But you could hear him chuckle at your comment and your heart soared, score one of the geek!, you thought as you light up a cigarette. "If it weren’t for the fact that your shop is right across of mine, I would think you’re either obsess with me or you have a crush on me.” He says as he plucks the cigarette you just lit out of your mouth and smoked it himself. You looked up at him dumbfounded and blushed when you see him smoking your cigarette. Which had touched your lips. You turn head down to watch your feet when he turns to look at you with an eyebrow raised “So, which is it?” he asks as he keeps on smoke the cigarette that’s been on your lip. On your lip, like an indirect kiss or some sort. You are very much freaking out, mentally and physically, over that fact and you just blurt out a, “hey! looks like I forgot I have an appointment right now. Catch ya later, flower boyyo!” You awkwardly gave him a wink and finger guns him before jogging back to your parlor and entered hastily.

Everyone in the shop had seen the exchange, Jason was giggling while he works on a tattoo on a customer, Tina who's working the counter gave you a thumbs up and Gavin openly laughed at your face. “You should’ve seen your face! God that was so priceless. I’m pretty sure he’s thinking how much of a weirdo you are right now, (y/n).” Gavin had laughed so hard he had to sit down to catch his breath. You rolled your eye at your best friend and purposely lean on him with your full weight, "Shut the fuck up, noob. It’s not like you’re any different. Oh Connor, Oh beautiful baby faced Connor” You said in a mocking sweet voice. That earned you a pinch on your thigh. “Okay, now YOU. Shut up.” You mocked a laugh at the man and he just gave you a middle finger. “Get off me you mooch. Unlike you I have a job to do.” You made a face at him and moved to sit at the seat Gavin was sitting, “It’s not like it’s my fault my customer bailed on me.” “maybe its because you have so much geek tattoo on you they’re afraid your nerd would rub off on them.” “Oh shut up, tattoos are art and you shouldn’t insult art.” Gavin shuts his mouth at that and nods with a smile, “Point taken, flower boyyo.” He escaped with a laughter towards the studio for fear you might flung the nearest item towards him.

You were cleaning up after a walk in customer when the bell on the front door rang, signalling someone had entered the parlor. You heard Gavin greeted them and him, chuckling? You inwardly shrug and finish clearing up your area before Gavin called you from the front desk. You answered and grabbed your cup of coffee, sipping on it as you walked from the studio to the front desk only to nearly choke on your coffee when you realize who it was. You coughed wildly into your palm and Gavin’s hand automatically went to your back to give it a pat. You could’ve swore you see Nines’ face changed from irritated look to indifference in mere seconds. You thought he really does dislike you to a certain level that made him do that face when he sees you. You deflate alittle but turned to Gavin to avoid looking like a kicked puppy if you made eye contact with Nines.

“So what’s the sitch?” "First of all, you nerd. Second of all, our neighbour here wanted to get a tattoo.”

“Oh cool-”

“From you.”

You thanked god you had put down your coffee cup because if you were still holding it you're afraid it might've get crushed in your hand. You turn to Nines and your eyes widen in surprise, “Cool cool cool cool cool. So what is it that you want me to tattoo on you?” Gavin gave you a really wide smile and lean in to whisper in your ear, "Pray real hard he gets to take off his shirt.” And slink away as you blushed at that. Now that you’re facing Nines, you could see that he wasn’t irritated at you, he was irritated at.. Gavin? But what did Gavin do that made him the receiving end of Nines' face? you thought but ignored it for the sake of good customer service. Nines cleared his throat and took out his phone to show you a sleeve tattoo that runs from the chest to the back of his hands, “I want to design done, if that’s alright.” you took his phone from his hand and ‘ooh-ed aahh-ed and woaw-ed’ at it all while looking super amazed. "Oh damn, flower boyyo! This is a sick ass design!" you excitedly told him, that gained you a soft smile coming from the man. The design was a biometric design starting from the chest with dashes of flowers in between. "Give me two days tops to make a stencil out of it. Oh my god can't wait to get this done!" You're so excited you forgot who are you tattooing and the fact that, he indeed will take off his shirt for you, when you're tattooing him.

"Can you send me the design via bluetooth?" Nines shook his head and gave you a suave smile, "I'll text it to you. What's your number?" You stopped your movement half way and look up at him, did he just.. did he just casually asked for your number?, your dork brain is screaming at you and your heart is already out of your chest, writhing on the floor because, your crush had just asked for your number. "U-uhh.." You had to clear your throat and shook your head to get your mouth connected with your brain again. "I-I'll type it down on your phone." You quickly typed in your phone and pass it back to him without saving it. You were still trying to comprehend what had happen when you jumped at the sound of your ringtone. "Now you have my number. I'll text it to you later, okay?" He says, still flashing his suave smile and then he winks. He mcfucking winked at you with that smile plastered on his face and for the love of god it has your heart spluttered to a stop. And you only managed stare at him dumbfounded as you watch him walk out of the store.

You turn to Gavin who's watching the entire exchange and you immediately let your freak out, "What the fuck?! What the flying fuck?! Did you see that?! Gav!! Did you FUCKING see that?!" Gavin was also freaking out with you but he's laughing while you're genuinely freaking out. "Ho..ly.. SHIT!!!!! That actually fucking happen!! Oh my fuck!!" Gavin laughed his ass off again for the second time that day and you can’t help but join him laughing. It took the both of you 20 minutes to cool down. “Oh my god. oh my good fucking god. That man is going to kill me one day” “Not if he smash your pelvis first!” with that you smack your bestfriend in the head.

The first text you received from Nines was the picture of the tattoo and a ‘Can’t wait to see you in action’ and that got you squealing and nearly punching Gavin in the face when the other decided its a great idea to chill in your room when you’re excited. Since then, both of you have been casually texting each other, usually Nines is the one initiating the texts. He always sends you a good morning with a picture of his flowers or plants or even a blurry picture of Connor he took which you gave it to Gavin. Finally you’re done with the stencil and it was time you see his naked torso get on with the epic tattoo. Gavin has been teasing you about it since morning and you felt like you haven’t had enough coffee for the day even tho you drank almost 6 mugs of coffee.

You sent a quick text to Nines saying he could drop by anything and you’re just prepping area for Nines when suddenly you felt a presence behind you. Thinking it was Gavin trying to tease you for the millionth time that day, “I know what you want to say, Gav. Can’t I just enjoy my job for once? I mean yeah we both know he has a really hot bod and I’m definitely gonna enjoy my time tattooing him but really? I’m getting real tired of the relentless teasing since last night.” you sighed and turn to the presence behind you only to have your eyes nearly popped out of your socket and your face turning bright red. Nines is just smiling widely and looking very amused. “So when shall we start, (y/n).” the way his voice lowers an octave on your name does things to your heart and to your body. “U-uhh I-in a few minutes! Just give me a moment to prep the area! Wait at the lounge would you?” you nervously blurt out as you escape from him and running straight to Gavin. You put your face on Gavin’s shoulder and screamed into it. Gavin is used to you using him as a ‘venting pillow’ just pats you on the head, “That’s what you get for being such a loser, loser.” you just punched him at the side weakly and Gavin chuckled at that. He noticed that Nines is actively trying to murder him with his eyes from the lounge and he nudges you, “Uhh, apparently flower boyyo is trying to kill me with his eyes. I’m actually scared now. Get off me before he walks over here and stabs me with one of my own needles.” You reluctantly lets go of Gavin and turns to Nines only to see that the man is just flashing you one of his suave smile. “Ugh, if he keeps on giving me that smile I swear I’m going to have a cardiac arrest and high blood pressure.” Gavin only chuckled at that and went back to working on his customer’s tattoo.

You finished prepping the area and called Nines over. “You can take off your shirt.. if you’re comfortable with it.” you added quickly. Nines chuckled and took it off without answering you and dear god good lord almighty all the high heavens sweet baby jesus he is EXTREMELY WELL BUILT FOR A FLORIST, you thought and unconsciously licked your lips. What you didn’t realize was, Nines was watching your expression and his eyes darken for a second at you licking your lips. You took in a shuddering breath and asked him to lean back on the chair, “You ready for some pain, flower boyyo?” “It’s definitely better than you calling me ‘dick’” he winked at you and you just awkwardly laugh at that embarrassing memory. “Aalrighty then.” and with that you start, focusing entirely on doing the tattoo and obviously not on the rigged body you feel underneath your glove clad hands.

The tattoo session you had with Nines was just completing the chest and bicep part, then the second session was the shading of the area and you continuing down to his forearm. And then finally the last session, where you get to hold his hand for the final part of the bionic arm tattoo. During the last few session, you learnt that he had served in the army and the marines. His dad wanted him to become a cop but he felt like the cop life just doesn’t suits him. So he went and sign up for the army then continue on to being in the marine. Hence the wellbuilt body and his knowledge on different types of martial arts and weapons. You, a dork, was intrigued by his stories and his adventures, you wished the sessions never ends. But alas, here you are, almost completing his tattoo.

Gavin could see you pouting the entire morning and watching the time like it had insulted your entire family lineage. He sighed at your slow brain and approached you that morning during a smoke break, “Ask him out for coffee.” “He could get coffee here.” “I mean ask him out on a date, dumbass.” You just turn to Gavin with the most scandalous expression, “I can’t just ask a very attractive man on a date! Have you seen me? I look like a raccoon shedding its fur. If not worse, like a balding raccoon drenched in garbage water. That’s what I look like on a daily basis.” “Not to him, you’re not.” you just rolled your eyes at your bestfriend’s attempt on making you feel better. “No I mean for real. Have you seen the way he looks at you when you’re talking about your geeky shit or that one story you thought was funny but it was not? Yo! It’s like some cliche rom com shit Tina likes to watch.” “As if.” “Believe it or not, I’m just saying. Oop, here comes your flower boyyo. Ask him out goddamnit.” He knocks your shoulder before leaving to attend to his customer. You scrunch your face at Gavin and turned to smile at Nines, “Ready for the final piece?” “I’m ready if you are.” and there he goes, flashing that damned handsome smile of his. Your heart still beats out of your chest at that sight but it dampens alittle at the thought that you won’t be able to talk with him much anymore because he’s not obligated to be stuck with you and you’re pretty sure he doesn’t want to hang out with a dork like you. You sat him down at the chair and he hold out his hand for you, you went from lovesick dork to professional tattoo artist in a second when the tattoo gun is in your gloved hand.

The entire time you held his hand, you didn’t notice Nines took several pictures of you working on his hand tattoo and the fact that he had squeezed your hand to see if you noticed, which you didn’t. Instead of talking, both of you kept silent and the only sound coming from that area was the whirring of the tattoo machine and your fall out boy playlist playing softly on the speaker by the chair. By the time you’re done with his tattoo, you put down the tattoo gun and gently wipe the tattoo. That’s when you realize you held his hand for a very very long time. You wanted to pull your hand away but he clutched your hand in his. You turn up to him, blushing and he leans extremely close to you, “Do you want to go on a date with me?” he caught you off guard and it took you awhile to get your mouth to function instead of hanging uselessly open, you let out an awkward laugh instead. “Y-yeah sure! I mean yeah we could hang out, I’m not exactly a good date material. I mean have you seen me? Haha If you put a wet raccoon next to me I’m pretty sure you’ll me thinking the raccoon looks better than me-” he shut you up by kissing the corner of your lips. Your eyes widen a fraction and thank god you were sitting if not you’d be tumbling down on the floor by how much your knee shakes. Instead of you leading him to the front desk to settle his last tattoo payment, he pulled you up and both of you held hands the entire way to the front desk. He passed you the cash and leans towards you to plant a kiss on your cheek. “I’ll text you the details.” and with that he gave you a final wink and walked out of the store.

It took you a full 10 full minutes to come back to life and freak the fuck out.

Gavin is just snickering and happily collects 10bucks from Jason and Tina. “Told you they won’t make the first move.”

#detroit become human #dbh imagine #dbh rk900 #dbh rk900 x reader #hehehehehheheh finally i post something #wow i wrote #alright guys #as per usual #enjoi my shit #i leb u guys for reading this #kudos to those who read lmao

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