#guess who finally gets to play this goddamn game

[azuneekun]

the dick must be insane

#stardew valley #stardew #stardew valley 1.6 spoilers #stardew valley 1.6 #sdv #sv #guess who finally gets to play this goddamn game #theres so many new banger lines in the update i fucking cantnioufghoidhhgidodgioh

[leonw4nter]

She’s Everything and He’s… He’s There Too I Guess

Hockeyplayer!RE2R!Leon x Figureskater!Reader

“Those damned hockey players…”, you quietly hiss to yourself as you skate off to the side. You had almost fallen down and cracked your head open as there was a crater in the ice, left behind by those rowdy hockey players who used the arena before you did. You usually used the arena before the players could since the ice was at its best but because you ran late, you ended up with deformed ice. You stayed at the side a little more, checking your skates and looking around for some more craters so you wouldn’t embarrass yourself in front of the hockey team flail embarrassingly and land face-first. Besides palms that had a slight dull ache to them, you were lucky you didn’t fall hard and end up with a serious injury. “Sorry for uh– the ice,” a voice piped up behind you. You turn around and the first thing your gaze falls on is a pair of irises that are a hue of a midwinter sky. “I’m apologizing on behalf of my team. Do you, um… need any help…?,” he shyly asks. This guy looks new, might be a rookie since you haven’t seen a blonde-haired, rosy cheeked, baby-faced athlete that contrasts the rugged, brunette guys with faint stubbles. His blond hair is slightly tousled, the tips of his ears pink. “No, it’s fine– I’m fine,” you respond with a small nod. He looks at the rink before he asks if you're sure, genuine concern flashing in his eyes before you respond that you’re really sure, shooting him a small smile. He eventually turns around to get back to his team but not before he looks back once or twice. “Kennedy”, the back of his navy blue jersey reads. He’s cute; polite too. ──────────────────────────────────────────────────────

That’s how your friendship started out with the shy, good-souled starting goalie whose name is Leon. He’s looked out for you whenever you skated and offered moral support when he wasn’t training, shooting you a thumbs up and that adorably goofy smile of his. Whenever you’d blow him an air kiss mid-spin, he’d divert his gaze elsewhere as his cheeks and the tip of his ears redden up; his teammates would tease him too, which you found endearing. After your first interaction with Leon, you noticed that the team would usually arrive earlier than they normally do (and shoot Leon teasing grins and looks). They watch you skate to pass the time, some of them complimenting your moves as you leave the ice and they take their respective posts; all the players easily tossed compliments, except for Leon. “You um… you l-looked good out there–”, he would quickly mumble.

“Leon we’re literally friends, how are you still so shy?,” you would say with a bright smile. He often stuttered or rushed whatever he had to say, though you would usually giggle and softly offer a ‘thank you’ whilst he said his ‘no problem’ or ‘your welcome’. You give him a small pat to the arm before moving to the seat where you placed your bag and you swear you could hear Chris, Leon’s teammate, tease Leon and say ‘your girl’ or something close to that. Back then, you would immediately freshen up and get going after practice but after making friends with Leon, you’d stay at the arena to cheer and watch him play just like he does with you.“Good luck!,” you exclaim before they start a practice game. Leon shoots you that hundred-watt smile before pulling his helmet down, getting his game-face on. A giddy sizzle of electricity runs up and down your spine, making you feel all warmly odd and fuzzy. A smile curls the tip of your lips upward, bringing your head down to release a small chuckle. Goddamn Leon, you’re making the ice princess feel awfully warm.

“Give it your all Kennedy; your girlfriend’s watching you!,” Chris yells in an awfully happy voice.

“Shut up man, she’s not my girlfriend!,” Leon yells back, silently thankful for the fact that his helmet is hiding the beet-red flush of his cheeks. After some time, the practice game finally ended. You got up from your seat to bid Leon and the guys goodbye before you finally left.

“Bye guys, bye Leon!,” you say with a small wave. All the guys said bye in unison, with Leon’s own response being slightly delayed since he was ruffling his silvery blond hair.

“Bro got his own special goodbye greeting,” Chris says to no one in particular. The other guys turn their heads to give Leon a knowing look along with a teasing snicker, prompting Leon to shyly mumble a “shut up” even though no one really said anything besides Chris.

This is your routine for the next 5 months. You and Leon have managed to grow closer too– now going on hangouts, lunch runs, and sometimes teaching each other basic moves from your respective sports. You also noticed that Leon seemed to be a little more awkward around you, unable to maintain eye contact when doing something as simple as talking and choosing to focus on other parts of your face like your cheeks and occasionally your lips too. There was an instance, about a month ago, where you both were watching His Girl Friday. Leon was saying the lines at the same time as Cary Grant’s character was, seemingly familiar with the film. He kept spilling facts about the movie, obviously very enthused. You know some facts too, but not as in-depth as him. His eyes twinkled with interest, his legs bouncing with enthusiasm whenever a scene he liked came on. Though he never looked you straight in the eye for no more than seven seconds, you would often catch him stealing a glance when he thought you weren’t looking. You feel him shift on the couch so you turn to look at him but you’re instead met with a piercing gaze. Odd. He inches a little closer, his gaze unsure whether to focus on your eyes or… lips. Heart pounding like a jackhammer in your chest and mind fading into nothing, you did what you thought was the most un-awkward thing at the moment: share a piece of trivia.

“Um– Howard Hawks and Charles Lederer also worked on Gentlemen Prefer Blondes,” you swiftly say, causing the words to sound a little mashed together.

“I know,” he simply says. There’s a rasp in his voice, his gaze fixed on your eyes now. Slowly, he closes the gap and you follow him too but he stops and pulls back at the last minute. “Nevermind,” he murmurs before turning his attention back on the screen. You sit there, frozen still and trying to process what happened. “Did he just try to kiss me,” you silently think to yourself. You clear your throat and adjust your position, trying to get your focus back on the movie but all you can really think about was that moment. “If I could travel back in time, Cary Grant is one of the people I’d like to meet,” he suddenly says. He turns to you, that goofy grin on his mouth again; he’s acting as if that moment mere seconds ago never happened. Maybe I’m just overthinking this.

Instances like this keep happening for a month or so; he leans in close, you keep thinking that this is it, he pulls away saying “nevermind” or “nothing”. Leon always wore his heart on his sleeve: he spoke what he truly felt so keeping something secret was definitely uncharacteristic but not too odd. He did start being more affectionate though: buying you flowers, getting you food, and even buying you random stuff (like a leg warmer that you had told him was cute once). He even began holding your hand or giving you hugs, which made you feel special but that feeling went down the drain when you saw him hug Chris’ sister Claire. All this was confusing you, since you liked him too and you wanted to know if this was a one-sided thing with all the signals thrown around. This time, you were determined to get your assumptions about his feelings straight so you wouldn’t be all the more confused and possibly misled. Jill, a friend of Claire's, arranged an outdoor ice skating get-together. Claire invited Chris, who in turn invited Leon and then invited you. For the next two hours, the four of you spent the time skating around. Jill and Claire needed help maintaining their balance so the three of you had to stay around them so they wouldn’t fall and possibly injure themselves. Since there weren’t so many people in the rink, Leon and Chris got to race each other whilst you got to do your jumps and spins. Not too long after, it was down to you and Leon doing the skating. “This is it. Showtime,” you thought to yourself. Catching up to Leon, you decided to pop the question.

“Soo… are you into Claire? Or Jill?,” you asked innocently.

“Huh– Um, no–,” Leon responded. Flustered, the tips of his ears reddened.

“C’mon. Just tell me so I can maybe play matchmaker and set you up with either of them,” you coax. You masked your own personal feelings for him by using this method. Although it stung slightly, you can’t force him to like you so the most you can do for him is to help him out regarding matters of the heart.

“I mean… they’re kind and beautiful and overall great people but they’re just not, you know… they’re not my type,” he shyly responds.

“Okay… then who’s your type?”

“You.”

You stop pushing your feet and just slide across the ice, staring into Leon’s face with a puzzled expression. “Did I hear that right?”

“Yeah, you did,” Leon quietly says. Looking back at the others, he sees that they’re sitting down and having a chat over some hot chocolate in a thermos so he takes this chance to finally speak.

“Y’know, when I went up to you those 5 months ago and apologized about the ice, I didn’t think my decision would hit me with a vengeance. At first I thought you were pretty and good at what you do but after being friends with you, you look much more divine to me and seeing you march to the beat of your own drum and- and actually getting a look into your actual personality, I knew that I’d love you. I’d love you through my screw-ups and through yours too,” he confessed. You two were still skating but at a slower pace now. Snow was beginning to gently fall down, tiny snowflakes gliding through the frigid air. Steam softly billowed out of your mouths, both your cheeks red like apples but not as red as Leon’s.

“Claire and Jill are amazing women– they’re just like you: they’re nice, attractive, helpful– overall decent people but out of all the possible personalities in here, my favorite type is you,” he finishes. His heart is doing quadruple Axels in his chest, ready to take flight or shatter any moment now. His hands, stuffed inside his warm coat pocket, are feeling clammy and sweaty. Suddenly, he kind of regrets letting out such a long confession.

“Hey I’m s-,” you cut him off in the best way ever.

You skate in front of him, hands extending towards him. Your left hand tugs at the collar of his gray trench coat whilst your right hand travels to the back of his neck, your fingers gently digging into the back of his head and threading themselves amongst the tufts of soft hair. You draw him near, closing the gap with a tender kiss. His body tenses up, his system shutting down, and he freezes but soon regains his bearings and kisses you back. His fingers leave his pockets and situate themselves on your waist, his thumbs gently drawing circle patterns. He doesn’t ask for more, just giving and taking. His slightly chapped lips spread into a giddy smile whilst still pressed against yours; Leon could only describe this kiss as a comforting breath of the sun that could keep the winter away. You pull away reluctantly and gaze into his eyes, ink-hued pupils swallowing the icy blue of his irises.

“I love you too,” you breathlessly say with an equally giddy grin.

A surprised laugh escapes Leon’s slightly parted mouth as he hugs you, lifting you up.

“Hey lovebirds!,” Jill calls out. You two look at Jill, who is cupping her mouth with gloved hands. “We saved some hot cocoa for you both! Come while Chris’ ass isn’t chugging it yet!”.

You two look at each other again, a small chuckle escaping your lips as you guys’ eyes glimmer in the shared love being realized. Leon takes your hand in his, intertwining his fingers with yours. You skate over to where Chris, Jill, and Claire are waiting. Jill hands the cup to Leon but Leon politely declines, offering it to you instead which earns raised eyebrows and smirks from the three. You take a sip of the drink, a comforting warmth taking over your body like a nice warm, weighted blanket.

“Don’t you want some?,” you ask Leon.

“I have a better way of tasting it later,” Leon responds with a cheeky wink.

“I heard that!,” Chris’ loud voice booms.

NOTE - This is my first time writing and working on something like this so if you liked it then that's really great and if not then feel free to tell me what you want me to improve on! My uploading schedule isn't super definite since I write whenever I feel like it. That's it and thanks for reading :)

The dividers (the ones with the star and circle) are made by @cafekitsune , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

#leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy fluff #leon kennedy #resident evil #resident evil 2 remake #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #fluff

[dimlylittorch]

first official post of my own thoughts bc I’ve decided to let myself be deranged on here..

the cod boys with a chubby partner who finally works up the nerve to attempt to send a nude!! this is so self indulgent y’all😭

PSA: !! I’m probably a horrible writer pls forgive me !!

My Masterlist🌱

Reader x John Price, Reader x Simon Ghost Riley, Reader x Johnny Soap MacTavish, Reader x Kyle Gaz Garrick

Random Headcanons: Edition 1

Warnings: NSFW

(mention of erections, nudes, inappropriate voice recordings, probably poor workplace behavior lmao)

Price

y’all have to be careful with our old man!! you might give him a heart attack :((

imagine he’s just in his office, bored out of his mind filling out his routine paperwork. Keeps dozing off, doesn’t feel like getting up to get more coffee. Practically praying for some kind of distraction or crisis to present itself. Suddenly he gets a text from you!! You know he gets bored at work so you try to send him little things that he’ll look at throughout the day, funny videos, a pretty tree you saw, etc.

But this time? Oh lord. He opens his messages from you and he sees your image with the blurred setting? With the caption ‘just in case you’re having a slow day.. don’t let anyone else see, okay?’

Of course our old man is scratching his beard, trying to guess what it is. He thinks on it for a moment, but ultimately gives up.. he opens it and goddamn. It’s your pretty little self perched on the bathroom counter of your shared apartment.. naked. Suddenly another text comes through, an apology. ‘I’m going to delete that- it looks really bad, I’m sorry’

He just about slips out of his chair with how fast he’s texting you ‘Don’t you dare.’

Ghost

Ghost? Ghost is a different story. You don’t have to worry about his heart- you have to worry about yours. The second you send him something like that? Sweetheart, there’s no stopping what he’ll do after the fact :]

He’s had a rough day, having to train some stupid ass recruits (his words, not mine). He’s already annoyed- someone took the last packet of tea from the kitchen area, he got caught on a nail turning a corner and his shirt ripped.. it’s not our baby’s day, y’all :((

He goes up onto the roof to get away from everything before he punches a whole in a wall- or in another person. He gets up top, sitting with his back to the ledge as he lights up a smoke. Grunting and grumbling to himself about everything that happened today, just thinking about being able to go home. Suddenly he gets a message from you. He sighs softly out of relief, and mumbles to himself ‘thank fuck.’

He opens the message, seeing a few little paragraphs about your day. You know he can’t text much during work, but you send him updates and he reads them at night whenever he can’t fall asleep. That way he still feels like he’s with you/talking to you while you get a good nights rest <3

He’s scrolling through the paragraphs, deciding to read a few to calm him down. He gets to the very top.. and he drops his smoke on himself., dropping his phone too. He quickly curses, brushing it off and stamping it out. He picks up his phone and.. the screen is broken. He’s so pissed off, poor baby. He manages to open his phone and see the picture through all of the cracks. He’s cursing to himself at how he can’t see the full picture. Suddenly he’s on his feet, heading down the stairs as fast as he can, ready to go home and make you recreate that photo..

Soap

We all know Soap is a menace. He probably sends you nudes (with your consent, of course) every few days. He’ll be trying on clothes and feeling himself? Who wouldn’t want to see a cute naked picture of him in the mirror. This definitely isn’t his first ball game, be sure of that ;)

Johnny has been having an alright day, mainly doing his duties nonchalantly, per usual. He manages to finish early and decides to hang out with some of the boys today, he knew you wouldn’t mind. Goes into the rec room where everyone was relaxing, playing pool, watching sports. He grabs a drink out of the mini fridge and kicks back on the couch, Ghost on his right, Alejandro on his left.

Between you and Johnny, you were definitely the more level headed one in the relationship. You knew that if you texted him throughout the day, he would get distracted and not get any work done, solely wanting to focus on you (just like a puppy, istg). He had texted you letting you know that he would be staying a little late today. You were always nice about it when he did that.. but today you felt a little needy, deciding to tease him a little.

He suddenly gets a text from you. Ghost and Ale, as nosy as ever, happen to be glancing at his phone screen when he opens his messages to a picture of a naked you on your knees, on your shared bed in front of a mirror, with the caption ‘that’s okay Johnny. just miss you, is all’. Johnny practically chokes on his drink, immediately slamming his phone against his chest, hoping Ghost and Ale didn’t see. He can already feel himself getting hard, and Ghost and Ale just chuckle. ‘Might want to get on home, Johnny’ they tease

Gaz

sweet, sweet baby Gaz. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t overly accustomed to sending nudes either!! In my mind he’s just the perfect gentleman, never initiating something like that unless you bring it up first :3

Gaz is outside, helping unload cargo from one of the trucks, just a usual shipment of supplies. He’s sweating his ass off, tired and ready for the day to end. He takes a break, sitting on a case of cargo for a moment and pulling out his phone. He sees a few messages from you and he smiles to himself, loving that you think of him throughout the day. He decides to go into the bathroom to get cleaned up. He walks in, grabbing a few paper towels to wipe some of his sweat off with as he opens his phone. First he sees a voice message, and he holds it up to his ear as he leans against a sink, ready to listen to his sweet love’s voice.

The audio recording starts to play. He immediately freezes, his body tensing as he listens to you. He could hear a faint buzz in the background, accompanied by your soft noises, clearly enjoying yourself. He’s frozen in place, barely comprehending what he’s listening to. The short voice recording ends and he just pulls his phone down from his ear, dumbfounded as he can already feel an erection growing. You send another text, a picture of you with a towel, cleaning yourself up. ‘I hope you’re having a good day <3’ is all you send with it. Let’s just say, he went into one of the bathroom stalls and didn’t come out for a little while, making sure to send you back a similar message. ‘My day is so much better now, baby’ he texts back with his own recording

I hope you guys liked this!! Please give me feedback, it would mean the world. Let me know if you want me to make a continuation of these, or do a part 2 with more characters!! Happy holidays <3

#cod mw2 #john price #captain price #price x reader #cod modern warfare #cod x reader #ghost #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #john soap mactavish #soap cod #soap mw2 #soap x reader #soap call of duty #soap mctavish #kyle gaz garrick #gaz cod #gaz call of duty #mickeywrites #drabbles #new writers on tumblr #new writers corner #call of duty #minors dni #bad writing #18+ only #18+ blog #mickey’s thoughts

[thechaoticdruid]

[This Bites] (1)

Pairing: Astarion x F! Chubby! MC

Plot: Through some mysterious and very miraculous events, a young woman finds herself literally stuck with a character from her current video game obsession. You can guess it already. It's an isekai type fanfic. Except in this case Astarion is stuck in our modern world.  I was gonna call the MC Tav, but since the actual game character Tav is mentioned I just named her Winnie. 

Content Warnings: Death….sorta, An asshole of a stepdad, MC uses She/Her pronouns, eventual smut and sexual content in future parts. Characters may be Ooc, grammar/spelling mistakes are possible. MC has very low self esteem. Depressed MC.

Chapter One: You are here!

Chapter Two: Here!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

“Argh I knew something would go wrong with this game!” The female huffed, staring down at her computer. Her eyes scanned over the error message titled ‘Character not found.’ She gritted her teeth in frustration. “God forbid I try mods….” 

The young woman groaned, shutting her laptop and falling back onto the bed. Apparently after finally installing a cheat mod onto Baldur's Gate 3 the game decided to retaliate and locked her out of her save files. She couldn't even create a new character either! The same ‘Character not found’ message seemed to pop up no matter what she did. The girl’s name was Winnie, a college student in her early twenties who was still living at home. Not too long ago Winnie had gotten the game upon release. She'd played it several times since then and even yet was still able to find some hidden secrets she didn't notice the first time. Honestly this game had really helped with her current state. Life had just been dull and miserable. All her friends had moved on and had their own lives now and she really wasn't the best at making new ones. 

She had a dull boring job, did online writing classes and also had to put up with the asshole her mother married. This game had been a godsend for her these past few months. It gave her an escape. A way to be someone else, at least for a little while anyway. 

Not to mention live out her somewhat cringey teenage girl fantasy of dating a walking red flag of a vampire. In this game she felt important. Like she was some badass heroine who was ready to take on any foe.  Not the shy, scared, awkward woman who she saw in the mirror.

Her cat Maddie broke Winnie from her thoughts as she hopped up onto the bed and crawled onto the young woman's chest. Winnie ran her hand over the cat's thick fluffy black fur.  Maddie gave a small mew before purring noisily and gently kneading her claws into Winnie’s chest.

Winnie sighed, scratching the sides of Maddie's face as she was soothed by the feline’s pur. 

“WINNIE! GET YOUR ASS IN HERE!!” A gruff male voice shouted from the other room, causing Maddie to jump and scramble off of Winnie and hide under the bed. 

The brunette haired girl sighed and got up, walking out of the room and cautiously stepping down the hall. 

“Yes, Brian?” Winnie spoke up as she entered the kitchen.  She looked over to see her stepfather stumbling about. Brian was a rather large man with short dark hair and beard. He was well….very unpleasant.

“Where are the goddamn car keys?” He growled out. 

“Dunno, I don't drive.” Winnie said calmly as she leaned up against the wall, “mom probably put them somewhere. Check the coffee table by the recliner.” 

Brian stomped off, a tiny tan fluff of a dog following after him.  He grabbed the keys before walking back into the kitchen. 

“I'm going to the store. Keep that stupid cat of yours in your room! It keeps shitting all over the carpet!” 

“I've told you over and over. Maddie only goes in the litter box. It's your dog that keeps making a mess in the house because you don't take him outside when he needs to go.” Winnie rolled her eyes.

“Don't fucking talk back to me! You're lucky your mother lets you stay here, if it was up to me you'd have been kicked out of here a long time ago.”  Brain snapped, making Winnie flinch a little at his tone.  “Now make sure the trash is taken out before I get back.” He said before stomping out the front door and slamming it behind him.  Winnie flinched once again at the loud sound before letting out a sigh and pulling the trash out of the can despite the fact that she distinctly remembered her mother telling Brian to take it out this morning. 

Winnie took out the trash before coming back inside heading back to her room. Her eyes scanned over her laptop as Maddie crawled out from under the bed.  She walked back over and opened the device, logging herself on before attempting to open her game back up.

[Character not found.]

Winnie groaned before filling out a bug report and then putting her computer up. She needed to get ready and go to work anyway. 

~•~•~•~•~•~•~

A few days had passed and nothing seemed to work. Winnie had disabled and deleted all the mods, sent in about a dozen but reports and still nothing. The only thing left she could try now was uninstalling the game and then reinstalling it. 

Winnie sat on the bed waiting patiently for the game to download though she knew it would at least take an hour. She pulled out her cellphone, noticing a text from her mother. The message was informing Winnie that Brian and her mom wouldn't be home until late tonight. At least this meant she'd have plenty of peace and quiet in the meantime. The young woman spread out on her bed, stretching her limbs before slowly closing her eyes, resting lazily.

Time passed as she slowly dozed off…Eventually she was awoken by the sound of beeping? It was some strange noise that she couldn't quite put her finger on. She quickly looked over to her laptop and her eyes widened as she noticed it seemed to be going crazy. Blinking and beeping.

“What the fuck!?” She exclaimed, grasping her computer and frantically clicking the mousepad. 

Then the screen went black before seemingly returning to the home screen. However, everything on the computer was gone save for one shortcut. Baldur's Gate 3.

The game’s shortcut sat in the very center of the computer, practically screaming at Winnie to click on it. She clicked it and the game opened up. 

Everything seemed to go as normal up until the title screen.  Winnie’s eyes widened in shock as she noticed all of the menu options were gone aside from (New Game).  She raised an eyebrow before clicking on the only option available and waiting as the opening cinematic played. Everything continued as it usually did. Winnie created her Tav, a human druid with an urchin background, then proceeded to hop into the game. 

Winnie did a bit of a speed run, moving through the Nautiloid as quickly as she could. She recruited Us, Lae'zel and freed Shadowheart before reaching the helm and crashing the ship.

Upon reaching the ravaged beach was when things began to get strange. 

The game buffered and blinked a bit, skipping the scene where Tav would check themselves out followed by some voiced narration. Tav was kinda just there on the beach. 

“Oh God. The game is glitching….” Winnie whined. She sighed in annoyance before clicking on the ground where she wanted Tav to walk. Winnie REALLY did not feel like uninstalling the game and waiting another hour to try again so she decided she'd play for as long as the game would allow.  Winnie had Tav wander over towards where Shadowheart would normally be laying after crash, only to find an empty space where the half elf should be.  Winnie groaned assuming it was another glitch before continuing on along the beach. While most things were there like the dead bodies and the intellect devourer enemies, Winnie did not see any sign of Shadowheart at all. Not even near the ruins where she'd be if she wasn't rescued by the player.  Winnie decided to quickly go and look for the other characters, sneaking her way past the little brain creatures and moving down the path where Astarion, the elven rogue companion, would be waiting to ambush the player.  He was Winnie’s favorite. She had a soft spot for sassy morally grey characters with tragic backstories. And he was also secretly a vampire to boot which just added to the appeal.  Winnie had her Tav approach the area before she let out a sigh of relief seeing as the vampiric elf was in his starting area shouting for help like normal. At least the game wasn't completely broken.

“Hurry I've got one of those brain things cornered.” Astarion’s dialogue began as soon as Tav got close enough to interact with him.  “There in the grass, you can kill it can't you? Like you killed the others?” 

“Uh….I kinda actually didn't kill any of them…Heheh.” Winnie chuckled before dragging her mouse over the dialogue choices.

1. [Easily, stand back.]

2. Kill it yourself. You seem capable.

3. Leave

Winnie clicked on choice 1 before her Tav walked over to check the tall grass for the intellect devourer that was actually non-existent. 

Instead a wild boar leapt from the grass and made Tav jump in surprise, giving Astarion the perfect opportunity to strike. He pinned the druid to the ground, pressing a dagger to her neck.

“Shhh…Shhh….Not a sound…Not if you want to keep that darling neck of yours.” The vampire practically purred out.  Winnie blushed, a shiver going down her spine. There was a reason she always found herself choosing the elven vampire as her character’s love interest. Initially when she first got the game she felt he came off as a pompous prick (which he is) but damn he was so fucking seductive. It drove Winnie absolutely mad. Not to mention it helped given he had sweet delicious character development later on in his story and actually could be kind of a sweetheart… To the player at least.  

The romance in this game had to be Winnie’s favorite aspect of it. She was very romantically inexperienced to say the least and this just added to what made the game her perfect escape from reality. It made her feel like someone actually liked her. Winnie prepared to select the next dialogue choice when suddenly she noticed they had changed. 

1. [……….]

2. ………..

3. ……….

4. ……….

She looked up and saw a smirk form on Astarion's lips, his eyes appeared as if he was staring back at Winnie from through the screen. Before she could speak Astarion slit Tav's throat and let them drop onto the ground.

“What. The. Fuck.” The brunette haired female went pale as she stared at her computer screen. Astarion sighed in what sounded like relief?

“Finally, we've done that old song and dance so many times! The novelty has completely worn off.” He stretched out his arms, before wiping his dagger on the ground. “It feels so invigorating to try something new, wouldn't you agree?” 

“Uhh…..What's going on?” Winnie asked aloud. She was shaking a bit in both confusion and a little fear.  Her character was kinda just laying on the ground dead…and Astarion was talking….to her!?

“Oh dear, it seems I've gone and frightened you. Ahaha!” Astarion chuckled before appearing to move closer to the screen, even going so far to place his hand on it…

“Hello darling…”

#baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion my beloved #bg3 #bg3 tav #astarion romance #astarion x reader #shadowheart #lae'zel #isekai #modern au #vampire spawn #spawn astarion #sorta #Fucking Brian suck a prick #Seriously fuck Brian! #MC has a cat #black cat

[whohasthecards]

Hangman meets this Nick-Goose guy at the bar (not a joke)

Jake rested his chin on his cue stick as he stared curiously at the pair at the bar.

The famous Admiral Beau “Cyclone” Simpson and some skinny blonde guy were hanging around. He never knew that the Admiral could smile. Sure, the guy was fair and respected all around the base, but he was stoic. He shrugged and went back to his game. 

By the time he sunk the 8-ball in, he looked up and the Admiral was gone. He handed the cue stick  to the next guy about to play and went up to the bar, knocking on the counter.

“Ma’am, a cold beer, please,” He said flashing Penny a smile, she rolled his eyes and handed him his drink.

“Stop calling me, ma’am, I’m not your commanding officer, Lieutenant,” Penny grouched before smiling.

“Aye aye, Captain,” Jake said flashing a wink and Penny rolled her eyes in response.

“Damn, Pen, not checking IDs, you’re getting sloppy or soft,” The mystery man said and Jake turned to get a better look at him.

He blinked before realizing that Roo-Roo Bradshaw was somewhere in the Pacific Ocean and a good 30 years younger than the man.

“Shut up, Nick, he’s a grown aviator,” Penny sniped back, hitting the man with a towel as he batted it away.

“Damn straight,” Jake said, taking a sip of his beer.

“Ahhh, so you are getting soft, you’ve always been soft around aviators,” Nick said, giving Jake a wink.

Penny blushed and gave Nick another hit with a towel before another customer called her away.

“Piss her off enough and you’ll get thrown overboard, even if I gotta do it alone,” Hangman said, flashing Nick a sharp grin.

Nick gave a low whistle, “Damn, son, no wonder she’s soft on ya, you probably remind her of me and the boys back in the day.”

Jake frowned at that.

“Nevermind that, I’m Nick or Goose, choose what you want,” Nick, Goose, said, reaching out his hand to shake.

“Jake,” He replied, shaking his hand, looking the guy up and down, seeing the grey on his temples. “You used to be an aviator?”

“Old men, can’t be on active duty?”

“The Navy would be too busy worrying about paying for your back pain.”

Goose honked out a laugh that made his callsign make sense.

“I was a backseater, RIO, then after I left I became a civilian flight instructor,” Goose said. “Single-seater?”

“Yep,” Jake said, finally deciding to sit down beside the older man. “Lucky guess?”

It was Jake’s turn to be scrutinized as he was looked up and down, “Nah, I just know the type, do you prefer Jake or Hangman?”

Jake’s lip twitched down before he settled on a blank mask. He used to have no shame regarding his callsign, so who gives a shit if he misspelled a couple words here and there. Until.

“All you do is leave good men hanging! Goddamn executioner of your own squad!”

“Hangman! Smoke in the ai-”

“Lieutenant Jacob “Hangman” Seresin, you did everything you could, dismissed.”

He took a deep breath that was more shaky than he’ll ever admit, “Jake’s good,” he said, flashing a smirk as he took another sip of his drink.

The older man’s eyes softened and he gave Jake a small smile.

“How about you?” Jake asked, realizing it was polite to reciprocate the question.

“Eh, either is fine, they’re both the same to me,” Nick said, shrugging. 

“Doesn’t Goose remind you of the thrill of being in a jet?” Jake asked, swirling his beer bottle around. 

“Nah, reminds me more of hanging around the boys,” Nick replied. “Still see them, but it ain’t the same as it used to be. Plus, I think I’ve had enough excitement for this life,” Nick said chuckling, leaning back and both men wincing as they heard his spine crack.

“You’re showing your age, old man,” Jake muttered, looking at him worriedly, wondering if he was about to keel over. “You hangin’ in there, gramps?”

Nick chuckled, “Not that old, brat, I have a son your age. He’s 27.”

“How old do you think I am?” 

“Hmmm, 21?”

Jake squawked in offense, “You’re actin’ like this my second time drinkin’ or somethin’!”

Nick raised a brow at him, “Is it not?”

Jake glared at him and all Goose saw was the same pout on his son’s face when he withheld the cookies from him.

“ ‘M 23,” Jake muttered.

“See? Not that far off, no need to get your feathers all ruffled, birdy,” Nick said, honking out a laugh.

Jake grumbled, but Goose could see the smile behind the sip of the beer bottle.

—

“Mav, did the Navy bio-engineer you and Ice’s DNA to create a son we don’t know about?” 

Mav paused, looking at his phone to check if this was Goose he was talking to. “Not that I know off,” he said slowly. “Why?”

“Kid, tall, blond hair, green eyes, naval aviator, technical flying style with some of your style, has your social skills too,” Goose added the last part thoughtfully. 

“Is that a compliment to the kid or an insult?”

“....Anyways, you made sure you don’t have some kid we don’t know about, right? Because if you gave me a nephew and didn’t make me his godfather I will ground you, no jets for a month.”

“Let me check with Ice.”

—

“Hello my sweet-precious-baby-mini-me,” Goose crowed to the phone as his son groaned on the other line.

“Dad, I am taller and bigger than you.”

“You still get your good looks from me, honey, how’s the deployment going?”

“The other pilots are shitheads, the amount of ego here is astounding.”

“Naval aviators,” Goose said, shrugging before realizing his son can’t see that. “There’s never a shortage of ego, say these pilots are younger than you?”

“Some of them are, some of them are older,” Bradley said slowly, wondering where this conversation was going.

“Good, you’ll have enough practice then.”

“Practice!? Practice for what!? Dad?”

“All good things come to those who wait, Brad-Brad.”

—

Hey gramps, I’m being’ deployed to Top Gun, Hard Deck?

Sure, Jakey

—

Gramps flew with pops? Goose and Maverick ejected. Goose got an honorable discharge. Holy shit.

Bradshaw was Nick’s son?

Is that why he was angry?

—

Hangman was face to face with Bradshaw, anger coursing through his veins. Doesn’t he understand? If they couldn’t fly like Maverick, they would all end up dead. Dead. 

Is he angry because of hop 31? Pissed on behalf of his Dad? But, Nick wasn’t angry at Pete, right?

You can find out.

“Come on, take a walk with me, son.”

No. Nick doesn’t deserve that.

“You have a family Bradshaw,” Jake said slowly, watching as Bradshaw’s hackles raised up even higher.

“Yeah, kid is simultaneously too hesitant and reckless at the same time, and I thought my wingman is the reason I’m gray…”

“You’re almost 60 gramps, that’s the reason why you’re gray.”

“Don’t let them lose you because you can’t think straight. Feelings ain’t matter here, not if you want to live,” Jake gritted out, shoulder checking the other man as he left the room.

—

They’re alive.

He saved them.

Thank fucking god because in all the hours he spent on stand-by in his jet, he still didn’t know what the fuck to say to Nick if he came back, but his brother and son didn’t.

A selfish part of him wondered if Nick would still care if they both died.

Probably not. Thank god he wasn’t a complete fuck up.

—

The celebration died down and he was walking back from his long-ass debrief. Getting reamed for launching without orders.

He felt his phone ping with a text.

Come over for dinner when you’re onshore.

Jake gave a small smile at that as he sent back a reply.

—

“Hangman! Hangman! Lieutenant Seresin! Jake!” 

It was the inverted version of Mav calling out for Rooster during that first day in the tarmac. Except Jake was already turning around once Mav said Lieutenant.

“Jesus, Mav, calm down, I hear ya, I ain’t goin’ anywhere yet, pops,” Jake said, raising his hands up as he flicked his toothpick to the side of his mouth. “Don’t stretch your legs too far tryin’ to keep up with me,'' Jake said, smirking.

Mav rolled his eyes upwards as he put his hands on his hips, as if asking god for patience. Heh. 

“I wasn’t able to talk to you one-on-one after the mission, kid, how are you?” Mav said, eyes softening as he looked at Jake up and down.

Jake felt self-conscious, as he straightened up instinctively, which was dumb because surely Mav wouldn’t notice that he was eating less. That he felt more tired each day. That he doesn’t know what kind of man he is.

“I’m fine, Mav, just thinking,” is all Jake could say.

“Don’t think too hard, kid, you might hurt yourself,” Mav said, giving Jake a smile, but there’s a glint in his eye that told him he meant it.

Mav’s an ace.

“Do you think about it, often?” Jake blurted out.

Mav furrowed his brow, “Think about what?”

Killing people.

No, not now.

“Nothing, nothing, sorry, pops, long day, just thinkin’ about how much the big bosses lectures on and on and on,” Hangman said, cringing at the babbling he just did.

Mav frowned, looking unconvinced, but gave a grin when command’s lectures were brought up, “I just learned to tune it out and forget. After you hear the first one, it all sounds the same, anyways.”

Jake barked a laugh at that, “You’re a menace, Mav.”

Mav grinned at Jake’s laugh, shoulders relaxing as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

“Anyways, I’m here to ask if you’re free tonight? My family and I are having dinner together and I want you to join in,” Mav said. “Some of the other Daggers will be there.”

He felt a pang of regret when he realized he’d have to decline, and it must have shown on his face, when Mav gave an understanding smile.

“Have plans, already, huh?”

“Yeah, a,” grandpa, family, mentor, father-figure-, “friend invited me for dinner, I haven’t seen him in a while, and yeah. I wanna hang out with ya pops and the squad, cross my heart, it’s just that I already got plans, and-”

Mav cut him off with a chuckle, “I get it, kid, don’t work yourself up, there will always be next time. Just promise me I won’t have to bail you out of jail tonight and you have fun.”

Jail with Nick? What a joke.

“Aye, Aye, Captain!” Jake said, giving Mav a salute, smirking as Mav shooed him away.

“Yeah, yeah, go on, brat, don’t cause trouble, you hear me!?”

“As if you can talk.��

—

Jake took a deep breath as he turned off the ignition of his truck, grabbing the beers he brought. He ain’t gonna come to a dinner empty handed, and Nick was more of a beer guy, rather than a wine guy.

He went up to the door and knocked.

“Hangman?”

“Mav?” Jake said, blinking his eyes in shock.

“Jakey! You made it, kiddo,” Nick greeted warmly, gently pushing Mav away to envelop Jake in a tight hug. Jake closed his eyes and leaned in, burying his eyes on the older man’s shoulder, trying to reciprocate the hug despite his hands being full.

“Here, let me take that from you, buddy, and you two can catch up for a little bit,” Mav said when Jake pulled away from the hug, taking the beer from his hands.

“It’s okay, pops–”

“How come Mav gets pops, but you call me gramps?” Nick said, pouting as he slung an arm around Jake’s shoulder.

“Because,” Jake said dumbly, still a bit shock at seeing Mav.

“Ahh forgot to tell ya I invited my former wingman, Mav and of course you’ve heard of my son, Brad-Brad,” Nick said leading Jake to the kitchen. “Some other guys will be coming, later, some of them are part of Mav’s squad.”

“We’re well-acquainted Goose, heck, the kid even told me he couldn’t come to hangout with us because he had plans with a friend,” Mav said grinning at the two of them.

“Awwww, so you do see me as a friend, huh, Jakey?” Goose cooed, ruffling Jake’s hair as Jake pushed him away.

“I didn’t know you were invitin’ me to the thing I was already invited to!” Jake protested, blushing.

“Hey Dad, where’s the— holy shit, Hangman, you came?” Bradshaw Jr. said, walking into the kitchen. “Mav said you said no, did something happen?” Rooster asked, furrowing his brow.

Jake finally had a side by side view of the two Bradshaw’s. Definitely related. Should have figured that out years ago. 

“Ohhh good that you’re here Brad, here’s the baby brother I promised you years ago,” Nick said, steering Jake by the shoulders to push him towards Bradley. “You’ll love him, play nice, okay?”

“That is a pain in my ass, grown-ass man,” Bradley said, blinking slowly as if he couldn’t understand what was happening. “How the hell did you two even meet?”

“Oh, I found him in a bar acting like a mixture of Mav and Ice and I just gotta keep him,” Nick said casually.

“Baby brother-?”

“Congratulations, you’re adopted, kid,” Mav said, taking a sip of his beer. “Wait til Ice sees you.”

“Ice?”

“Iceman,” Nick said. “Tom-Tom, Tommy, Tomcat, you will probably be calling him gramps.”

“I am not calling the COMPACFLT, gramps,” Jake said, jaw-dropping.

“No, you will be calling my brother, gramps, Jakey, plus they already expect it, they have heard many stories about you.”

“You talk about me to the Iceman!?” Jake said, his pitch rising an octave.

“And me, and everyone else, I was wondering why I haven’t heard about this aviator kid Goose here was talking about, started thinking he adopted an air force kid or something,” Mav said grinning. “He only really called you Jakey.”

“Or Jake-Jake, Jay, Baby J –” Bradley started, smirking at a flushing Jake.

“THAT’s enough,” Jake said, pushing at Bradley to cut him off, but Bradley just laughed.

“Boys enough. Bradley, stop teasing your brother. Jakey, no pushing,” Goose said wagging a finger at them.

“Yeah, yeah, dad,” Bradley said, rolling his eyes.

“Also, we need to make a custody contract, Goose, I want partial custody of these two,” Mav said looking way too serious as he pulled out a pen and a piece of paper.

“We need to wait for the other boys to show up first, I have a feeling Cyclone or Iceman would be calling dibs,” Goose said grinning.

“What?” Jake said, confused.

“It means, you’re stuck with us now, Jake-Jake,” Bradley said, ruffling the blond’s hair.

—

“You named your kid, Bradley Bradshaw?”

“I wanted a little Brad-Brad.”

#fanfic #top gun maverick #top gun #top gun fandom #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #pete maverick mitchell #mavdad #tom iceman kazansky #bradley rooster bradshaw #nick goose bradshaw #parental nick goose bradshaw #cyclone and ice and the other flyboys are dads here too #i just like the thought of Jake being adopted and be given love #bradley is gonna be a big brother in this one #jake hangman seresin needs a hug

[kelly-bands]

summer: beach tennis & ice cream. ( CHLOE KELLY × READER )

one shot!

summary: You and Chloe Kelly are playing beach tennis, but you accidentally almost hit her.

note: i will probably do another summer fic after this one

"Fuck." You swore as you slid your digits on the sweat dripping from your forehead. It was hot as hell, but the natural wind managed to camouflage the heat hitting your body.

You and Chloe were on holiday, where you unanimously chose to spend the rest week in Bournemouth. The blonde decided to stay there on the beach, as it was one of her favorite places. It was late after lunch and the two of you were out on the sands of Bournemouth, having fun together.

The only difference was that Kelly wasn't on your side, but on the other side of the sand court.

Even if you were more worried about the sweat almost running into your eye, the sound of the ball being popped into the air drew your attention. The beach tennis ball barely arrived in your area and you dominated it with the racket, throwing it to the other side.

You were a few points behind the player, you weren't very used to playing beach games and you only started because of Chloe. The ball came back again, and this time you cut it, scoring a point.

" You've learned, finally." You could hear Kelly mocking from afar, but at the same time proud of your effort to learn to play beach tennis with her.

" Oh, don't fucking start. " You snapped. To be honest, the heat and losing were getting on your nerves; and Chloe needling you, was too.

On the other side, the only thing you heard coming out of those gorgeous lips was a stupid but cute laugh. You had no reason to be angry at losing, but at being scattered.

Playing beach tennis against Chloe Kelly boiled down to missing all the domains for spending more time enjoying that amazing fucking body worried about getting dirty with the sand.

Forget about it.

Focus. At. The. Fucking. Game.

The british returned the ball to you, it was your turn to serve. You served, the ball was stronger than the other serves you had done, but Kelly still managed to receive the ball. It quickly returned to your area, you took a few steps and threw her, pulling the racket up hard, going high the other way.

Shit. It will come with everything.

"Wait—!" You shout, surrendering and just watching Chloe jump and slash. The ball came with such force that you barely saw it. Ah, one more point for your girlfriend.

You hate to lose, you are a very competitive person. And that goes for Kelly, too. Both are competitive, you live challenging each other in any situation where there is this possibility (who drives better, who eats more or who scores more goals in the season). However, it was almost impossible to compete at Chloe's level, especially in a game you just learned.

" I thought you said you were going to take it easy on me. " You complained, at the same time reaching for the ball on the floor. Meanwhile, Kelly glared at you, not saying a word about it; just that stupid smirk on her face said it all.

" I thought you said earlier today that you were going to beat me, or rather, in your words, break me. " She returned seconds later, in the most egocentric and dry tone possible. Ah, that was one hell of a stab.

You just watched how stupid she could be when she wanted to be. This time, Chloe won. And anyone would have guessed that within seconds of you picking up that goddamn ball, getting close enough through the net divider, and throwing it with all your might at Kelly.

She managed to piss you off, and she loved seeing that in you.

But what you just did was off the charts.

Chloe defended herself by putting her racket in a shield position from the moment you crossed the court division, hitting the ball at your target. The ball was correctly aimed at the racket and dropped, and a heavy mood arrived on the court.

" Y/N… What the fuck? " The blonde asked, even knowing what answer you would give her. Kelly's brows furrowed, this was not what she was expecting.

" You're pissing me off, damn it." Correcting, you were already completely pissed off about everything. You threw the racket on the floor and sat down right there, stretching your legs and supporting your body with your hands.

Chloe abandoned the racket on the other side, crossed the court dodging the net, ducking. She slowly approached you, a little apprehensive after the whole situation. Kelly sat beside your legs stretched out, specifically facing you, crossing her legs in a butterfly position.

" I'm sorry. " Were the only words that it was possible to hear from the whisper of the blondie.

Chloe loves to piss you off, but she always stopped once you started ignoring her. " I'm going to stop being competitive with you, Y/N. " You could see Kelly's regretful expression in the middle of the words.

Oh, now you've won. You managed to make Chloe Kelly uncomfortable with your irritation.

And when Chloe is bothered, she always gives you the best excuses.

" You don't have to stop your competitive side, I love it. But, please don't be upsetting as a spoiled child. " You stated, accompanied by a playful tone. Kelly just opened a smile in response, going to caress one of your thighs.

Damn. Now you couldn't tell if it was the sand on your body or the player's hand that was tingling your skin. Your eyes moved to the woman's face, watching how this moron could fake such an action in the middle of the crowd. But that gesture ended when you stopped it by forcing your hand in over her fingers.

" I suppose that's not how you're going to earn my forgiveness, Chloe. " Actually, it was, if the two of you were in private. You whispered in grunts, as you were more concentrated preventing a heavy sigh from coming out as a result of her action.

"No? Then there is no other option! " She joked, you could tell by the giggle accompanied by the sentence. Kelly's eyes rolled, she removed her hand from your thighs.

It just clarified how you no longer knew how to differentiate which was the hotness of the moment, summer or Chloe Kelly.

Having lost the game, you wanted to make the british give a nice apology (like a kiss). You stood up, patted the sand stuck to the sweat on your body — which at this point, a few grains fell on Kelly, all this to pretend to leave. Both hands leaned on your waists, looking down at the woman before saying something.

"Good luck trying to get me to dispel that irritation. " It was almost a defiant tone. But deep down all that irritation was gone, to be honest, you didn't even want to be angry from the moment she walked up to you.

Chloe was silent for seconds, as if you were thinking of your best move to counter the challenge, and it made you, honestly, anxious.

Blue eyes lifted upward, trying to reach yours. What the fuck is Chloe Kelly planning?!

" Ice cream? " She asked genuinely.

What? Was that all?

You nodded in agreement, with a bit of indignation. Your head tilted to the side, after all, you expected a different attitude, like, what the fuck was that.

Where the fuck is the apology kiss?

You were positioned a few meters from the court, so you remained there under the umbrella, waiting for your girlfriend to return with the ice creams. Your eyes fell on the marked sand, where you two were sitting earlier. To be honest, you expected a kiss of apologies, like she always does when she pisses you off. In the end, you just were at ease.

" Did you really take it seriously...? " You asked muttering to yourself, while drawing randomly in the sand. A drop of guilt rose in your head after consciously thinking about your previous actions.

" No. " A sweet and gentle voice appeared behind you. It was impossible not to recognize your girlfriend's british accent.

You cracked a little smile after looking up and seeing her figure, Kelly was holding two ice creams, one strawberry and cherry and the other mint and chocolate. She passed by your side and sat there, propped up into you and passing you the mint ice cream. All of a sudden, you weren't even mad at her or whatever had gotten into you.

" They didn't have pineapple flavor, but you like mint too, so I took it. " Chloe spoke with such precision and certainty about the flavors. It was those little details that you loved most about Kelly, how she paid so much attention to the little details about you.

" Thank you. " You said it and left to taste the ice cream, which, by some chance, was the best thing in the world.

" You remembered. " Murmured beside Kelly.

" Hm? What? " She turned to face you, raising one of her eyebrows as she wiped her lips with her napkin.

" Of my two favorite flavors of ice cream. " You rested your head on the player's collarbone, taking more licks of the mint ice cream you held with your left hand, as with your right hand you slowly rested it on Chloe's thigh.

" Oh, that. " She whispered through the teeth of rabbits she had, returning to face the sandy floor.

" Whenever we went out to the ice cream parlors, you would ask for one of these two. " Kelly reminisced about all the times the two of you went out to the ice cream parlors on your days off.

" I'm sorry about before. It wasn't my intention…" You apologized, breaking the very challenge you'd committed yourself to. Your voice was as honest and sweet as an angel's. You lifted your head and turned enough to face your girlfriend. " I'll try to learn without accidentally trying to hit you. "

" You worry too much about this, Y/N. It's not like you're strong enough to hurt me, you know. " Chloe teased the difference in muscle and strength, which was pretty clear. "Forget about it. Finish the ice cream and then we'll start from scratch. " She took another taste of strawberry ice cream, which by some chance seemed to taste really good.

"Okay. Let me try some then." You pointed your eyes at Kelly's ice cream, but also at her lips. She immediately left her hand next to your mouth, waiting for you to satisfy your will.

" Not like that! " You stated, leaving Kelly confused.

sometimes don't forget that, deep down, the blondie is a bit of a slow person.

"Hm?" She raised an eyebrow. You pushed Chloe's hand, which was holding the ice cream, to the side. With free digits, you pulled her face close to yours, holding her cheek.

You glued your lips together with hers.

With the contact, the first thing you felt was the strawberry flavor passing into your mouth, creating a mix of flavors when you find the mint refreshment. You fit the kiss so well that Chloe was carried away by your domain, the lip meat had so many flavors that it was already impossible to describe. You could feel Kelly's bunny teeth nibble on your bottom lip, allowing you to let out a moan between your lips.

Kissing Chloe Kelly was always a new experience, your girlfriend always takes you to new imaginations, as if every time their lips touched, they were a portal to another dimension. And this time, the dimension was unique.

The only things you could feel were the mint and strawberry combo melting on your lips, Kelly's long fingers cupping your chin from the side and the unique sound of the waves crashing against each other. Thus, you were able to experience the strawberry flavor that you craved so much.

All of this was like having moths fluttering in your stomach. Kissing Chloe Kelly is therapy, is synonymous to ravaging bad feelings; and that's what happened.

The kiss was lasting, to the point that when they broke apart, your breathing was as heavy as that of an athlete who ran a hundred meters only once, unlike Chloe, who seemed to be used to it. To be honest, the breath wasn't the only reason to break the kiss; but the ice cream melting between your fingers.

"Oh, shit." You mumbled, running your tongue over your fingers after the mess the ice cream made on your hand. After cleaning up, your eyes landed on Kelly's face as she finished eating her ice cream.

What the fuck Chloe.

That really surprised you. You guys just had a great kiss and all she cared about was the ice cream? She hasn't even said anything yet.

Chloe pulled the napkin that was left over from her own portion and took it to the corners of your lips, wiping them; minty mints. You left, freely, as you stared at her, waiting for some response.

"Did you like it?" Kelly asked after a silence of minutes, still wiping your lips.

" Of what, exactly?" It was an extremely empty question, because after all, you loved everything.

" The strawberry, you asked to try it. " Ah, sure, the genuine Chloe Kelly way. You nodded in agreement as you felt the napkin being finished. " Great, next time we try different flavors. " The british woman crumpled her napkin, and soon got up.

It was all happening so fast that you didn't even understand what Kelly wanted to do. Suddenly, she held her hand out in front of you.

" What...?" You looked up, while with a confused expression, you still managed to admire Chloe's beautiful face.

Internally, Kelly was so looking forward to the kiss that she didn't know exactly what her next actions would be; like a child lost inside a toy store.

The only difference between the two of you was that Chloe Kelly was very good at faking those emotions.

" Let's go. You have to learn to play beach tennis today. " She murmured, opening a sweet smile. "If you beat me, I'll let you taste other flavors in my mouth."

Fuck.

Your heart raced so fast, the unwillingness to play with Chloe was suddenly gone. Her sentence doesn't match the woman Kelly was hours ago, as if now, she was free to say anything. You rested your fingers on your girlfriend's hand to get up.

Now you had reason to compete with Chloe Kelly.

#chloe kelly imagine #chloe kelly x reader #chloe kelly #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso #woso soccer

[hp-hcs]

Please more Tom riddle x ftm Reader 😩

vine? what’s that, like, herbology? (chapter four of phoenix tears) — 40s! tom riddle x ftm! dumbass! granger! reader

uh okay so i accidentally gave tom religious trauma so that’s a thing in here

imagine being cool and requesting lmfao couldnt be yall

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“What in the Goddamn Hell did you do?!”

You fall off of your bed with a shriek when a pillow hits you straight in the face with a whap!

You hit the floor with a solid thunk, picking up your nearest weapon—a single converse sneaker—and chucking it at Harry, who’s practically dying laughing on his bed.

Tom looks alarmed, partially at your fall, partially at the abhorrent language. Glancing down at where you’re sprawled on the floor—when you’d been sitting on your bed beside him just moments ago—Tom shifts his gaze to an overdramatic, whining Harry, clutching his shin and pouting like a petulant child, then finally, settling his gaze on a furious, fuming, irate Gryffindor girl with bushy hair.

“You Goddamn fucking dumbass-” the mystery girl arms herself with more pillows, chucking them at you with a surprising amount of force. When Harry laughs again, at your expense, he receives a pillow to the face as well.

She stands in the center of the boys’ dorm, her hands clenched into fists and her eyebrows furrowed so deeply, Tom wonders for a second if she’ll start steaming at the ears like the characters in newspaper comics do. Who is this girl, who so freely speaks the Lord’s name, as if she isn’t afraid of being beaten?

Hovering in the doorway to the boys’ dorm is an apprehensive redhead, who flounders for what to do for a moment before slowly joining the angry girl at her side like a demure, kicked stray. Tom tilts his head as he examines the two newcomers. The redhead… yes… yes, this must be one of the little Weasley girl’s older brothers. Which one, he’d never be able to guess.

The angry girl was currently cursing out Harry, Y/N, Tom, and God, which, Tom found rather egregious; but it was also a bit exciting, seeing someone do something so taboo.

“And you,” Angry Girl whirled around, her index finger pointing straight at Tom.

(Tom was a year older than Angry Girl. He had to be at least a foot and half taller than her. He came from a time of Nazis and economic depressions, for Christ’s sakes. Regardless, Angry Girl absolutely terrified Tom out of his wits.)

“You, you insufferable, good-for-nothing reprobate! You motherfucking scuzzy lowlife snake!”

Tom scrambled backwards on your bed as Angry Girl took a few purposeful steps forward, her finger in his face.

Honestly, her language was appalling. Who was this girl? A street urchin? Certainly not well-mannered, that was for sure.

“You utter pig! Don’t look at me like that! Oh no, I’m speaking right now. Be quiet!”

Tom was at a loss for words. He just stared, wide eyed, mouth agape as this unknown girl cursed him out and damned him to the deepest parts of Hell.

“‘Mione, lay off the poor guy. I think he gets it,” you said dryly, apparently in no concern to rush to Tom’s aid, if the game of… poker? you were currently playing on the floor with Harry and the Weasley boy was anything to go by.

Angry Girl, ‘Mione, as you had called her, stopped talking, but she still looked furious. She whirled around, a single angry look making the Weasley boy and Potter scramble to shove the cards back into their box. You seemed unbothered though, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a bored expression.

How the Hell were you not terrified of this girl?

“Oh, no,” ‘‘Mione’ said with a humorless chuckle. “You don’t get to say anything either. I leave you alone for an hour- You told me you were helping Harry clean out his trunk!”

“Well I was!” You defended. “It just so happened that good ol’ Tommy-boy’s diary was in Harry’s trunk. So really, you should be, like, yelling at him, for being so irresponsible as to still have it.”

“Oh, I’ll get to him shortly,” she snapped. “But you, dear brother-”

(Brother? Tom wondered. He could only vaguely see the resemblance, but when you ran your fingers through your short hair and it started to puff up, it finally clicked. Twins.)

“-you resurrected the guy who tried to fucking kill a bunch of eleven and twelve year olds! The same guy who tried to kill Harry as an infant- Jesus fucking Christ, this is why you’re not in Ravenclaw you dumb fuck-”

Tom gaped at her profanity. Not only using the Lord’s entire name, but giving Him a middle name that was a curse? The blaspheme this girl spoke was extraordinary.

‘‘Mione’ ran her hand down her face in exasperation. “There is a collective total of three brain cells in this room…”

“And all of them are yours?” You muttered sardonically.

“…and all of them ar- hey, that’s my line.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and let out a loud exhale, closing her eyes. “Okay. Okay. Oka-”

“If you say ‘okay’ one more time, I’m punching you.”

Mother Mary, this boy was awfully violent. Nearly as bad as his sister.

“Right. Start from the beginning, please,” her tone made it obvious that it was not a request, but a demand. “Oh- Ronald, really. What are you two doing?”

The Weasley boy, Ronald, looked up—as did Harry—at her scathing tone. They were both still sat on the floor, but now had a garishly bright magazine between them and appeared to be solving a crossword together.

“Two bros, chillin’ on the floor, five feet apart ‘cause they’re not gay,” you chimed in, with an odd sing-song voice that Tom was baffled by.

“Shut the fuck up, Y/N,” Harry mumbled under his breath, his quill scratching on the magazine’s page and the ink turning green as he scribbled in the correct answer to number ten across.

‘‘Mione’ sat down on the floor next to Ronald, sighing heavily. She snapped her fingers at Tom, pointing at him, then making a sharp motion down towards the floor. “Sit down here, Thomas. You’re not sitting at a higher level than anyone else.”

Tom wordlessly slipped down onto the floor, sitting cross-legged with wide eyes as he scooted as far away from her as possible, which, coincidentally, was right next to you.

‘‘Mione’ seemed caught off guard when she saw Tom’s loaned clothes: green flannel pajama pants, a thick knit sweater with an ‘F’ on it, and fuzzy blue socks with penguins on them.

He was not intimidating in the slightest.

It’s kind of hard to be intimidating fifty years in the future, especially when future you is way scarier that current you.

But Tom digressed.

~~~

“DON’T FUCK WITH ME! I HAVE THE POWER OF GOD AND ANIME ON MY SIDE!”

“We are not quoting Vines when we break into Malfoy Manor, Y/N,” Hermione, as her full name turned out to be, let out a long-suffering sigh.

You pout, your lower lip sticking out.

Tom nearly chokes on his tea when he sees this, his cheeks flaming red as he hurriedly wills away any depraved thoughts.

Don’t look don’t look don’t look don’t look oh dear God don’t loo- don’t take the Lord’s name in vain either Thomas! Oh no oh no no no-

He can almost hear his old headmistress at Wool’s chastising him after boxing his ears.

“You’re a child of God, Thomas Marvolo! Do not speak His name in vain!”

But you know what? Jesus fucking Christ, he hated his Goddamn name.

Tom let himself look up from his tea mug at you, let his gaze fall from your mirthful eyes to your pouting lips.

Oh.

Goddamnit, I’m fucked.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

chapter five

#harry potter #fuck jkr #hp #hp x male reader #x male reader #x reader #tom riddle x male reader #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle #trans reader

[fandomxpreferences]

Don’t Hate the Player

Pairing: JJ Maybank x female!reader

TW:mild violence I guess?

Summary: You and JJ take games way too seriously.

Word count:800 (this is just a short idea I couldn’t get out of my head)

A little-known fact about you and JJ is that you’re both extremely competitive. Like, flip the table, throw a video game controller, game nights are-a-thing-of-the-past-competitive. 

Especially if you’re competing against each other. 

It all came to a screeching halt one night when you were all wrestling each other playfully. It was lighthearted until it wasn’t. 

You and JJ were the final two after beating everyone else, and it was meant to be a winner-vs-winner match to see who takes the metaphorical trophy. 

However, neither of you were willing to give up and after twenty minutes of headlocks and thrashing around, the rest of the pogues pulled you apart and kept you separate the rest of the night. 

So you can imagine their shock and horror when they came back to the Chateau to find you and JJ settling into a not-so-friendly game of Mario Kart. 

They all look at each other with worry swimming in their eyes and approach the two of you as if you’re rabid animals about to bite. 

“Hey there. Uh, whatcha doin’?”

You look up at John B with a quirked eyebrow and nod your head toward the screen as if it’s obvious. 

“Um playing Mario Kart?”

Your answer is phrased as a question, genuinely not understanding where the confusion lies. 

He nods his head slowly and glances at Sarah. 

“Right, it’s just that last time you two did that I had to get a new lamp.”

JJ's face contorts into a mixture of offense and irritation as he huffs.

“That was one time JB, and we said we were sorry!”

He sounds genuinely exasperated and John B extends a hand as if to defend himself. 

“I know, sorry I said anything.”

It comes out rushed like he’s frantically trying to disarm a bomb and JJ relaxes back into the couch. 

No one else says anything, but they all take seats a safe distance away as the two of you choose your build and start the race. 

The first couple of rounds are civil, and if the five people that have a protective layer of pillows covering them didn’t know better, they’d think you were just a cute couple spending time together. 

However all good things must end, and on the third race, it gets more heated. 

“Oh fuck you, Maybank! You knocked me out of first with that goddamn turtle shell!”

Everyone flinches back, waiting for flying debris as JJ laughs maniacally. 

“Don’t hate the player, baby. Hate the game.”

You desperately try to regain your place and the two of you are neck and neck as JJ speeds past the finish line. 

His hands fly up in victory as he lets out a celebratory cheer and you stew in anger. 

“This is bullshit.”

Sarah winces at your biting complaint and you slam the buttons as you start a new race. 

You lean with the controller as you drift around the sharp curves and JJ is right on your tail. 

“I’m so gonna get your ass.” He taunts and you slap the controller out of his hands as you cross the checkered line. 

“I’m gonna get your ass for real if you don’t shut the fuck up.”

His head snaps to look at you but your eyes stay on the screen as you ignore his burning gaze.

“Fine, so that’s how it’s gonna be.”

Pope shifts nervously at the half-flirting-half-serious banter and gulps. 

You continue on like this for a while, covering each others eyes and grabbing at each other's hands. In the last round though things take a turn for the worst.

You hit JJ with a lightning bolt which puts him in fifth and he growls.

“Don’t hate the player, baby. Hate the game.” You repeat mockingly and he hits you with a pillow. 

The controllers are quickly discarded as you hit him back, and an all-out pillow fight commences.

“I knew this was a bad idea.” Kiara whispers, and she’s promptly smacked with a stuffed animal that was launched across the living room.

“Oh hell no.”

She springs up and before you know it, the seven of you are laughing and dodging swings left and right. 

You land a fatal blow to the side of JJ's head and he falls back dramatically, crumbling into a heap on the floor. 

“Okay, fine! I’m waving the white flag!”

You stand over him menacingly with the battered pillow held above your head ready to strike again. 

“And?” 

He groans and covers his face, preparing to be hit. 

“And you’re the prettiest girl on the planet and the best girlfriend ever who I love more than anything.”

He tries and you cock your head to the side.

“And?” You press, eliciting a defeated groan from the blonde. 

“And you’re the ultimate Mario Kart champion.”

His answer pleases you and he smiles as you drop your weapon.

“That’s what I thought.” 

You offer a hand and pull him up, giving him a sweet kiss once he’s back on his feet. 

“You’re ruthless.”

John B laughs in agreement behind him and slaps him on the back.

“Just be glad it wasn’t the remote this time.”

#jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fic #jj maybank #outer banks imagine #outer banks #outerbanks fic

[drdemonprince]

Any chance you'd expand on the hank hill trans guy post? (Sorry, best indicator I could come up with.) The concept interests me as I decidedly know my maleness, yet don't feel impeded by for the most part, any male gendered norms/boxes. I am fairly masculine, though I rarely use those kinds terms to describe myself. I have found I often do stray outside of what society pushed for me when I transitioned, yet I again do not feel it has taken from my right to maleness whatsoever. I am just me, who happens to be male. I have had friends try and suggest I am NB adjacent but I do not feel this way whatsoever. I feel more people are outliers to gender expectation than we care to admit and it's disappointing the way cis-people deny that. Hope this wasn't too long winded, I value your writing and perspective, and wanted to hear more of your thoughts on this.

Yeah, well so many things all get conflated by gender labels, and it's all so personal, you know? Masculinity does not have to mean maleness, and a person's gender identity might be a reflection of some innate quality they experience themselves as having, or a general summary of their tendencies, or their desired presentation, or their sense of affinity with other people, or an interpersonal tool, or something they just go along with because it was given to them by society, or any other number of things.

I think my recent substack piece on detransition goes into this pretty well, and I have an upcoming piece of what @pastimperfection calls "bilateral dysphoria" that comes out next week that delves into it too.

I think I mostly saw taking on a male identity as a means to an end more than any kind of innate reflection of who I was, though I did feel an affinity with effeminate men for a lot of reasons. I think I also discounted how much I have in common with my fellow nonbinary people of all stripes, because that identity became so strongly associated with being an annoying type of queer person that everybody else just wrote off as ultimately being their assigned gender at birth anyway no matter how much they protested. it doesn't help that 'nonbinary' is a catchall term for literally thousands if not millions of very distinct experiences and desires.

transitioning gave me control over how i was perceived, finally, but hormones are a throttle that only go in one very specific direction, and you don't really have all that much control over which changes kick in at which times and what people will make of you once you do start registering to them as some identity other than what you were first saddled with. it's an incredible gift to be able to toggle that throttle. but it's limited, not because medical transition isn't incredible and needed for so many, but because there is no escaping the goddamned binary cissexist logic that influences everything about how people treat you, how you navigate institutions, who finds you desirable and what they want out of you, and so much else.

if you're able to cast a lot of the external societal bullshit aside and feel strong in your maleness, maybe you're stronger than me or maybe our orientation to these things is just different, i don't know. i was never all that sensitive to feedback that i was doing the whole being-a-woman-thing all that wrong. i reveled in violating those rules to an extent. succeeding at being a woman despite my best attempts was what felt super dysphoric. and now i guess im succeeding at being a man, insofar as im always read as one, and it feels just as uncomfortable and objectifying and false. i thought that with manhood i could probably just grit my teeth and deal with it, but i'm finding that i can't.

ive always been very open that for me, gender is a thing I Do, and i guess to those who know me well it wouldnt be surprising to hear that i have gotten tired of Doing Being a Man and dont feel like playing that particular gendered game anymore. I tend to get bored of things! and find the flaws in things. and find my comfort in being fault-finding and contrarian and not being a joiner. and thats okay. i learned a lot along the way. not having to try any more is a huge relief. i can just do whatever. and know actively that people will more often than not be wrong in what they make of me.

maybe it was natural feeling for you to decidely 'know' your maleness without a care for masculine standards because that is the right identity for you! and maybe i only feel secure in the "not knowing" realm and in letting go of what people think of me or finding any kind of tidy categorization for it because that's the right spot for me. for now. until i find a new interesting way to be unhappy and striving for more and different again. :) that's just part of being alive, for me.

[gothic-thoughts]

Second Chances

(yes i played clarinet in HS. no we not gon talk about it 😭🧍🏾‍♀️)

Part 1! Dio Brando x Black Fem Reader Fluff

College Football!Dio, Band Geek!Reader(me fr), ModernAU, Drabble(esque)

CW: reader is fed up😭

Word Count: 981

TW: bullying mention, not proofread

After the university won the game, the football team was swarmed by people to congratulate them. Especially Dio, the star wide receiver, who was surrounded by cheerleaders fawning over him and the win. (Y/n) wades through the commotion with her marching band hat under her arm and her clarinet case in her free hand as she pushes past the crowd. The Center walks over to Dio and playfully snatches his helmet away while the Running Back rests his arm on his shoulder.

"Whatchu looking at, Dee?" Center asked.

"That your girl?" the Running Back teased.

"Not yet," Dio replied with a smug grin. “That's (Y/n), we got like two classes together. She's in the marching band."

Center laughed thinking he was kidding, "Pretty nerdy, guessing you want her to help you study?"

The Running Back laughs along, "Yeah, you need more nerds to help you with your homework?"

"Nah, I tried bullying her cuz she's in marching band." Dio chuckles fondly at the memory of their first encounter, "But she shut me the hell down. She may be a short-ass band nerd but, goddamn, she's got one hell of a fuckin spine."

He sees her finally exit the sea of people who once filled the audience and adjust her marching band jacket before turning down a relatively empty corridor. Dio playfully chases after her and he catches up to her and grabs her shoulder lightly from behind.

"Hey, Short Stack."

“You again? What do you want now?”

"You." Dio winks.

“Ugh.”

She shrugs him off her shoulder and turns around, continuing down the hall only for him to casually follow her with his signature smirk.

"You know, I can't tell if you hate me or like me."

“I don't know enough about you but let's go with I dislike you.”

Dio moves closer, "I don't know, I feel like you do. Besides, if you don't even know me then you shouldn't make judgments about me, short stuff."

“Oh really? Our first encounter, you made me late trying to bully me.”

"Oh right. But I think we should let bygones be bygones. Besides, people change. And people can start over."

“Not when that first encounter happened 4 fuckin’ days ago. Mind you, I was late for practice for the halftime show at the game you just won.”

"Listen Short Stack; are ya gonna let something so minor keep you from doin' that? Like c’mon, that was Monday."

(Y/n) stops mid-step and looks up at him with a narrowed irritated glare.

“No, you listen, Number 33.” She poked his chest, “Not like you asked, but the band director is strict as fuck. If any of us is more than 5 minutes late, we usually have to stay an extra 10 after class to make up for it. But since the game was this week, your fuckin’ song and dance made me have to stay an extra 25 minutes and walk in the fuckin’ rain. That was my Monday."

(Y/n) turns away and storms off down the hall, turning the next corner. Dio's composure breaks for a moment before he sighs and puts his hands in his pockets. Despite the mask of playfulness on his face, he does feel bad for making her go through that.

He also feels slight shame since he’s not used to losing these kinds of encounters with girls. They were usually falling all over him, hesitant to argue, much less yell at him. Dio sighs and follows her around the corner, now getting into a more serious demeanor.

"I have a compromise for you," Dio says calmly. "Hear me out real quick."

She sucks her teeth, “Bruh!”

“I mean it, as a way to apologize.”

“Just apologize.”

“Not good at that, so I want to do something for you to prove it.”

“A deal?” 

“Just hear me out

She sighs deeply, “What is it?”

"Let me take you on a date to make up for those 25 minutes."

(Y/n) genuinely chuckles, “You want to take me on a 25-minute date, Dio?”

“Tch, no, I’ll take you on a date and I have 25 minutes to make you feel better about what I did Monday. If I don't, you can leave and I won't bother you again."

“Hmm...”

“I mean of course I’ll find you around school for more of this lovely attention you’re giving me right now, but I won’t bother you.”

Another deep sigh. “Can’t believe I’m doin’ this. Fine, but I pick the place and time.”

"Sounds fine to me, where and when?"

“How about another compromise; I'll give you my Insta and text you all the info if you go change out your uniform.”

"A compromise within a compromise. I like it." Dio said with a sly grin. “And what's wrong with the uniform, it's a chick magnet."

“Yeah, not with the smell.” She laughs, “ Like I know we’re both sweaty, but you smell like ass and grass so...”

"Hey, that's just cuz of the game. After I clean myself I smell like a bouquet of flowers."

“You gonna have to prove that cuz that’s not what I’m inhaling right now.”

Dio laughs as he takes out his phone, “Alright, alright; message received. I’ll go now.”

(Y/n) puts her clarinet case down and takes his phone to follow herself on Instagram before handing it back. Dio notices the smile on her face and his eyes follow her movements, even as she starts to walk away. He thinks for a moment; she had every chance to shoot him down and yet she agrees to let him take her to a date. 

Was she interested, or was this her just way of being spiteful? Either way, he was willing to find out. Dio stares at the screen of his phone, reading her Instagram handle over and over again. After reading it a second time, his smirk returns.

#x black reader #x black fem reader #black reader #black writers #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo's bizarre adventure #dio brando x reader #black fem reader #dio brando #dio x reader #dio x black reader #jjba #jojo part 1 #dio jojo #jojo no kimyō na bōken

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Just a little Henclair one shot with a small side of Steddie

Dustin rolled his shoulders before stepping foot into the drama room. It would be a while before the game started. Actually, before both games started. He knew that Eddie would be the only one here setting up and making final adjustments. Eddie was sprawled out on his throne, looking at his notebook when Dustin cleared his throat.

"Ah, Henderson, you guys find anyone yet?" Eddie asked.

"Well, yes, but I'm hoping we don't have to use her," Dustin said. "I'm making one final plea to postpone the game tonight, Eddie."

"Why should I post pone?" Eddie asked. "Who cares about some dumb laundry basket game?"

"Lucas does!" Dustin snapped, and Eddie looked at him seriously for a moment. Dustin had never raised his voice to him like that. "And they don't have the ability to postpone their game, but you do. I need to be there to support Lucas. No, I want to be there to support Lucas."

"You make it sound as if - ," Eddie said, and then he shook his head. "Sorry, man. Can't postpone. I won't postpone, and if Sinclair really wants to chase after some bullshit dream about becoming one of them, I won't stop him, and neither should you. He has to be the one to make a choice."

"Why can't he choose both? Why does it have to be one or the other?" Dustin asked.

"Because that's the way it is, man! That's how they want it!" Eddie exclaimed and jumped up from the chair.

"Wow, I didn't take you for a person who obeyed the rules of society that are so clearly assbackward, but I guess I was wrong," Dustin said. "You know, Lucas was scared to tell you how much basketball meant to him to bring it up in conversation with this group who is supposed to be much more enlightened than these assholes. He also looked up to you because he didn't want to disappoint you, but more importantly, he didn't want to disappoint himself, and basketball was a thing he needed to explore. He likes playing both games. Why are you putting him into a box?"

Eddie stepped back as if he had been slapped, and suddenly, he looked a lot younger than he had ever seen him.

"Jesus H Christ, it's just a game," Eddie whispered.

"Which one are you referring to there, buddy?" Dustin asked, and then he paused. "If I tell you a secret, can I trust you to keep it?"

"Of course," Eddie said softly.

"Lucas is my boyfriend," Dustin said, and he was pleased to see his eyebrows nearly disappear under all that hair.

"I thought that you were dating a girl named Suzie," Eddie said. "Is she not real?"

"Oh, she's very real and very much my ex-girlfriend. She was very special to me but we couldn't make it work as much as we wanted to. We're still friends, though," Dustin said. "After summer break, after Starcourt and after my break up with Suzie. . .his break up with Max. . . It kind of just happened. We've been dating for months, and I would like to keep doing that. You guys don't have to go to the game, but can you, please, postpone Hellfire for one night so I can support my very handsome boyfriend?"

Eddie stared at him for a moment, giving Dustin pause because he thought for sure that it would win him over. Suddenly, Eddie grinned and bowed low.

"I grant you your request, good sir. Hellfire is indeed postponed but for one night, only," Eddie said, and he stood up to pull Dustin into a tight hug. "Thank you for telling me, and thanks for telling me off. What would you have done if I still said no?"

"Beat the shit out of you with my goddamn hat. I love Lucas," Dustin said, and Eddie laughed.

"Is Lucas okay with you telling me?" Eddie asked.

"Oh, yeah, he's surprised that I haven't blabbed to you yet. Besides, he is the one who told Steve. Well, not told per se, more like got caught up in the moment and kissed me in front of him. Steve spit out his water. It was hilarious," Dustin grinned.

"And he's okay with this?" Eddie asked.

"Of course," Dustin said. "You'd be surprised with what he's cool with. You should get to know him."

"No thanks, I'm good," he scoffed.

"You know, he never was a bullying jock like the others. He always tried to stop - " Dustin started to say.

"I know, I know," Eddie said and paused. "It's just - you know, maybe you're right. Maybe I should get to know him."

They walked out of the drama room together just as the others showed up.

"Hellfire is postponed," he said.

"What?!" Gareth asked. "Is this because of Sinclair? Because if it is, I swear to God - "

"You'll do nothing. Hellfire is postponed because we're all going to show up to support Lucas. Isn't that right, Dustin?" Eddie asked.

"Totally!" Dustin grinned.

"We're going to have to show those assholes that jocks and nerds can be friends," Eddie said. "So, let's do it."

And when they showed up, much to Steve’s surprise, Lucas had the biggest grin on his face. It was really very cute. When they spilled out into the parking, Dustin wanted to throw himself into Lucas's arms and kiss him so badly. He couldn't, though. Steve had seen the look on his face and leaned down to whisper in his ear.

"Alleyway, man, I'll cover you," Steve said, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

Dustin shoved Lucas discreetly into the alleyway while everyone was busy talking about the game to even notice. Steve leaned against the entryway to guard and hide them. Eddie moved to follow. Steve placed a hand on his chest.

"What are you doing?" Steve asked.

"Helping," Eddie said.

"You know?" Steve asked.

"Yeah."

"And you're okay with it?" Steve asked.

"I would be a hypocrite," Eddie snorted as he moved closer to Steve to help block the view.

"Oh, yeah, me too," Steve blushed.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Meanwhile, Dustin was pushing Lucas up against the wall and leaning against him, their faces close.

"Those were some serious moves out there, Lucas," Dustin said.

"Oh, yeah. How much are they worth?" Lucas asked.

"At least five kisses," Dustin said.

"Five? Please, they're worth at least ten," Lucas scoffed.

"Ten, you say? I think that can be arranged. I only have a twenty, so I'm going to need some change back," Dustin said.

"Deal," Lucas said and pressed his lips to Dustin's.

Dustin broke the kiss and growled at him. Lucas tilted his head back and laughed.

"What?" Dustin asked.

"I love it when you do that. It's so cute," Lucas replied.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Lucas said and covered his hands over Dustin's. "Is that my bandana on your wrist?"

"Yeah, it looks better on me, don't you think?" Dustin asked.

"It totally does," Lucas said and pulled him in for another kiss.

Their little moment in the alleyway kept them going all the way through the spring break from hell. Now, here they were at Steve's place. The town had been saved, Vecna had been defeated, and not a single member of their group had died. Max, Eddie, and Steve needed some healing to do, but other than that. . .all was well. Dustin and Lucas had officially come out to the group, too. Mike had already guessed, and Robin had been there when Lucas kissed Dustin in front of Steve. Everyone was more than okay with it. Max was still in the hospital, but Eddie and Steve were upstairs healing in the same bed. Although Nancy wondered why they insisted on sharing the same bed when there were plenty of other rooms. Dustin figured that mystery out when he opened the door to bring them some food and found them kissing. They quickly broke away and suddenly looked relieved when they saw it was Dustin.

"Hey," Steve said as he stared at Dustin.

"Hey," Dustin said, grinning wildly at them as he wiggled his eyebrows at them. "What's going on in here?"

"You know exactly what's going on in here," Eddie scowled.

"You should know, Eddie, that I had a jock boyfriend first, so don't be acting like you started something," Dustin said. "I'm glad to know that I could set a good example for you."

"Okay, set the tray down, then exit the room, please," Steve sighed.

"Need me to guard the door for you?" Dustin asked.

"No!"

Dustin laughed as he moved to exit the room.

"Hey, Dustin!" Eddie called out.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks, man," Eddie said.

Dustin smiled. He knew exactly what Eddie was thanking him for, and it wasn't the food. Sometimes, people need a wake-up call.

"Anytime," Dustin said.

He moved downstairs to the kitchen where everyone had gathered. He watched Lucas laughing for a moment, and his heart sang out at the sight. Lucas held out his arms, and Dustin didn't waste a moment to snuggle into them. He pressed his ear against his chest, and he let the sound of Lucas's heartbeat soothe him. They were alive.

#stranger things #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #dustin henderson x lucas sinclair #stranger things s4 #steve harrington #eddie munson #henderdads #henderfam #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #the party #stranger things fanfiction #rueleigh writes #henclair

[piratefalls]

oh my god this got obscenely long. you're welcome?

list one. list two. list three. list four.

Any Beat of Your Heart (Gets Me Through the Night) by stellarmeadow

Alex throws out the first pitch at the Opening Day baseball game, but things go horribly wrong.

kiss me once 'cause you know by ninzied

Of all the things they’ve been to one another—sometimes-rivals, reluctant allies, tediously cordial seatmates at international events—Henry never thought that he and Alex would end up being something like friends. (In which Alex sort of moves in and they don't talk about what it means.)

Mr. BodyPillow by inexplicablymine

“It is hard enough trying to get a date out here when all I really want is to curl up with someone’s head on my chest and play with their hair” “I could do that for you sweetheart” _______ Two boys cuddling on a couch right on top of each other because they are in fact very gay™. Inviting over a complete stranger for cuddles because you are touch starved might be the worst idea Henry has ever had, or the best.

Little Moments by politics_and_prose

Five significant moments in Alex's political career and one in his personal life.

The Case Of The Fucking Curse by everwitch

Henry gets inflicted by a deadly royal curse. The only way to break it is to have sex with a person who possesses the correct physical compatibility, so the crown puts out a desperate plea for people meeting the right criteria to enter a screening process. You’ll never guess who turns out to be the final candidate at the end. Or: the most wholesome Fuck Or Die you’ve read in your life.

You Got Me, and Baby I Got You by princebutt

Alexander Claremont-Diaz, charismatic center for the NHL's Dallas Stars, is completely and utterly smitten with the posh British librarian he met by complete accident. Tonight is the night, and he's got a plan to completely woo Henry and get his man.

cowboy like me by stutteringpeach

Alex was looking for money tonight. And with Henry Mountchristen-Windsor, the gorgeous young heir to the Windsor Group, he sure as hell found it. If Alex is looking to charm someone out of their millions, it might as well be someone he’s going to enjoy stealing from.

but if you could see us from a distance, you'd know i've always been so close to you by anincompletelist (soldouthaz)

Objectively, standing half-soaked from rainwater with a stitch in his side and an uncomfortable, raging hard-on outside his worst enemy’s door is not Henry’s finest moment. It’s not even on the list. -- or, henry is afflicted with a curse-gone-wrong that stipulates that only his sworn enemy, alex claremont-diaz, can touch him.

(did my love aid and abet you?) by alasse

That night in Kensington Palace, Henry told Alex to leave. Eleven years later, Alex watches on the news as Henry comes out, and abdicates. A story of what came before, and what comes after.

It’s been eleven fucking years, and Henry is finally free.  It’s been eleven fucking years, and Henry is finally out.  It’s been eleven fucking years, and Alex Claremont-Diaz still hasn’t learned how to be normal about Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor.

it's a scene (and we're out here in plain sight) by annesbonny

"I don’t want us to be in the press for anything other than how good I am at polo, and how charming you look in that shirt.” Henry just wants the Fifth Annual Okonjo Foundation Polo Match to run smoothly, but that's harder than it seems.

lover, tell me if you can by loyaulte_me_lie

Henry has a wobble on their first anniversary. They practise healthy communication and everything ends happily.

Debasing the Prince (And Other Inappropriate Decisions) by orphan_account

Henry in a suit and tie turns Alex into a combination of the heart-eyed and drooling emojis. He can't help it that the goddamned prince of England looks glorious all dressed up. So he meets him in his bedroom and does super inappropriate things with the tie and the prince. This is basically Tale of the Debauchery of a Prince™.

Soon You'll Get Better (Because You Have To) by wafflesandkruge

Two nights after the shooting, Henry receives an email with a pre-recorded video from Alex. He gets one every night, and although it breaks his heart to see Alex happy and alive, he's terrified of when they'll stop coming.

(when you look like that) i never ever wanted to be so bad by hipsterchrist

“How many times have I told you now?” Henry asks, voice still quiet. “In the bedroom, we’re equals.” Alex knows a door left ajar intentionally when he sees it.“ But we’re not in the bedroom, are we?” he mutters. Henry smirks and turns away. Alex nearly falls over trying to follow the loss of Henry’s hand on his face. “It certainly would seem that way,” Henry says, loud and clear, leaning against the wall again. “And so I will have to insist on some degree of deference. Do you think you can manage that?” Or, Alex has a fantasy involving a tack room and Henry's polo uniform, and Henry is all too happy to fulfill it.

if i ever saw you try to be a saint by inmoonlightigetseasick

He turns back, waiting for further instruction from Luna when Henry actually gets up and approaches him to talk. “I must apologize about the hour,” he says, faking sincerity so well Alex recants his doubts about Henry’s acting chops, “this was my fault, I have a shoot for a music video later today and after that I’m on a flight back to jolly old England as it were, loads of publicity for the latest album.” “You sound like a busy guy,” Alex says, with a small, tight smile, “sure you’ll have time for our little movie?” “I will make the time,” he says, his eyes are a bottomless blue, they shine, deceptively truthful, he turns to Luna, “I cannot tell you how great an honour it is to be considered for this role. What you’ve done here,” he gestures to his script, “I think it’s amazing.” Alex hates that Henry is right. -- AU in which Alex is an up-and-coming actor slated to star in in-demand director Rafael Luna's highly anticipated queer coming-of-age film. For Alex, keen to share his own bisexuality with the world, it's the perfect project to be his true starmaking vehicle -- but for one thing-- his nemesis Henry Fox, a wildly popular rock star, might end up playing his love interest.

searching low in the night by saltfics

“Just say it's okay. I just need to hear you say that.” Henry steps outside for just a second, but when Alex goes to find him, he finds only empty streets and an excrutiating feeling of dread in his place.

whenever you're ready by perfect-porcelain (tedddylupin)

“Pez. Please, will you stop tagging me in TikTok thirst traps?” Henry asked as he stepped into his friend’s car. Pez lowered his Gucci sunglasses on his nose, looking at Henry without anything obscuring his vision and just laughed before pushing them back up with his middle finger. “Don’t fucking lie to me, I know you love them.” Or: the one where Henry falls in lust with a TikToker making pottery and leaves drunken thirst comments

hold me close (when the cameras are off) by viciouslyqueer

Henry Fox is a very well-known model. It’s hard to name a magazine he hasn’t been on the cover of, or a photographer that isn’t ready to drop everything just to book a shoot with him. Now he’s barely smiling, slightly parted lips, yet somehow still looking kind as the photographer behind the camera takes picture after picture. His pristine blond hair is delicately styled so it doesn’t fall out of place, and the cherry blossom flowers next to him and beige background give him an angelic look that makes people in the studio stop what they’re doing just to watch. He looks beautiful. Alex hates it. — When models Alex and Henry have to pose together for a shoot, Alex realizes he might not hate Henry after all.

it was you he gave me by coffeecatsme

The tattoo artist traces Alex’s thigh with a gloved finger as she grabs the needle, brows furrowed as if she’s trying to make sense of the lettering. “This is beautiful,” she says, awe in her voice. Alex feels a sort of pride surge through him. “Who’s the poet?” Alex smiles. “If I tell you, can you keep a secret?” Or, Alex finds a pen in their sex toy drawer and Henry finds a use for it.

yours for the afternoon by railmedaddy

“Another day then, tomorrow? Or Saturday, I can do Saturday, I’ll give you my number,” Hunter says, starting to reach for Henry’s phone. Henry knocks it off the table and prays it doesn’t crack. Christ. Is he going to have to leave the coffee shop to get rid of Hunter? He bends down to pick his phone up and when he rights himself, Hunter is waiting expectantly with his hand out for Henry’s phone. He drops it into his bag under the table. “Very kind of you Hunter, but I’m really quite booked up and—" “Sorry I’m late, sweetheart,” comes a drawl Henry vaguely recognises. OR Henry is quietly minding his own business in his favourite coffee shop, when he’s rudely interrupted by an insufferable man attempting to flirt with him. He’s rescued by none other than Alex – a fellow cafe regular who he’s long admired from a distance – posing as his date.

Háblame dulce by QueenKatelynTheAristocrat

"Alex gently drew Henry back to the waking world on a lazy Tuesday morning in their brownstone with a kiss, a cup of Earl Gray, and the words, “Hoy, hablamos español.” Also known as: Henry is learning Spanish for Alex, and Alex is happy to help him.

5 Times Alex Went Viral (+1 Time Henry Did) by clottedcreamfudge

Alex downloads TikTok on a Saturday and by Monday he's completely obsessed. Henry is clearly a little bewildered by this, but he doesn't seem to mind when Alex starts singing sea shanties and trying - with limited success - to harmonise with himself in the shower. *** aka FicTok (aka ‘Five times Alex tested TikTok trends on Henry and one time Henry got his own back’) (aka 'Five times Alex made life hard for Henry and one time Henry just made Alex hard' - you can blame ifyoustay for that one)

Slide, Crawl into the Shades of Light by Mags (sparklepocalypse)

Eventually, they part long enough to buckle their seatbelts, and then the car eases forward in the direction of Kensington Palace. Alex reaches across the seat and cups Henry’s cheek. “You’ve been biting your lips again,” he notes, rubbing a thumb over the rough skin. “When we get back to the apartment we should run a bath, and maybe after, I can make you some tea.” Henry smiles – and it nearly reaches his eyes – and covers Alex’s hand with his own. “That sounds wonderful,” he murmurs. “It’s been a long week.” (Post-movie; Alex and Henry doing that transcontinental couple life thing, and Henry's had a shit week. Alex gives him several orgasms about it.)

A Tiny Shred of Hope by cmere

Henry reacts in the immediate aftermath of his first kiss with Alex.

Most Cordially Invited by aldiara

In which a formal invitation is extended, a royal mirror is defiled, and Alex cusses a lot.

The Bet by bleedingballroomfloor

Looking back at it, it's all Nora's fault. Or, the time Henry and Alex bet on who can last the longest without sex.

Play Me a Song by allmylovesatonce

Every night, like clockwork, Alex's upstairs neighbor plays the piano for two hours, giving Alex the motivation to sit and do his own work so that he can listen. One night, he leaves a letter for his neighbor to thank him for the music. When his neighbor comes to his door to thank him for the note, he finds it's the same cute guy he's been running into in the lobby.

Speak for Yourself by LolaLand (Lola_di_Penates)

Alex could have walked out of the Williamsburg apartment at any time. Instead, he decides to sign up to twelve months of Henry. OR Alex makes a rash decision and Henry inexplicably runs with it. (The "accidental housemates" AU that literally no-one asked for).

london bridge has fallen down by indomitablelove

Alex can feel the eyes of the room on him as Shaan approaches his side. Then, Shaan quietly murmurs in his ear. They’re words he’s thought about before, distantly wondering about what might happen when they were finally uttered. How their lives might change. There’s nothing that can prepare him for the reality of it though, nothing that can prepare him for how his breath hitches when Shaan speaks. ‘London Bridge is down, Sir.’  --- Queen Mary is dead. Henry doesn't know how to feel.

i wouldn't stop for red lights by matherine

There are flowers on Henry’s desk when he comes into work. They’re pretty, really – chosen by someone who knows him, because there are hydrangeas and white roses and daffodils, and certainly not enough baby’s breath for the bouquet to have been cheap. Not that Henry would make assumptions, nor that he’s the sort of person that would look up the cost of a gift, but he knows who put it here. Even before he looks at the little card attached to a rose’s stem, he knows, because he gets flowers every April 15th.

Water over Blood by happinessofthepursuit

5 times a member of the British Royal Family was in love with Alex + 1 time they loved Henry

The Prince of Sex: A Collaborative Nightmare by aceinadeck, fairycat, ifigo, MaikkaPakka, ohgaywarden, Princess_Nales

"Alex is waiting for his lover Phillip, when he arrives in the bedroom Alex's jaw drops. Philip is wearing a pair of tight leather pants the outline of his massive horse cock is clearly visible and Alex can't wait to have it pump thick squirts of warm cum inside him and his butt." *** It started as a joke, something that Pez found in the depths of Real Person Fiction on Wattpad that none of them really wanted to explore too much. But he brought it up as a drinking game, something that would get all of them absolutely wasted since this was the first time they were able to get together in almost four months.

An Open Heart by absoluteaudacity

"But, and I hope you’ll forgive me for taking so long to get to the point, they listened and hugged me and told me they loved me no matter what. I gather they feel very guilty that I felt I had to keep my sexuality a secret. Mum had to stop Dad from going straight down to Buckingham and yelling at Gran; I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so angry. They’ve agreed that we’ll keep it to the family for the moment but they’ve made it clear I have their support if I ever want to come out publicly. We’re a long way from that, I think, but at least I know the way is partially clear for us. At least I don’t have to pretend anymore."

It's Getting Hot in Here (So Hot!) by Celaestis

Henry’s firm and unwavering belief in Alex’s hetrosexuality does wonders for their relationship. He can coexist with Alex in the same lobby for entire half-minutes at a time while checking for post, he can make solid eye contact during glances in the hallway. Alex is still the most beautiful man he’s ever beheld, and maybe Henry’s hook-ups are tending towards the Latino types more than they ever did in the UK, but still. Alex is straight. Henry is fine about it. Really.

i'd fall to pieces on the floor if you weren't around by karish

Suddenly, Alex feels like he’s gonna throw up and he feels cold all over. Because this sounds like a goodbye. It sounds like a suicide note. Fuck. God. Please no. AKA: Alex wakes up to find a note from Henry and jumps to the worst possible conclusions.

Wedding Talk by maritinkerbell

“You know, H, I’m not sure anything is going to give me greater pleasure than forcing all your homophobic cousins to smile and make nice while I put a fucking ring on it.” OR An upcoming family wedding leads Henry and Alex to discuss marriage for the first time.

Little Secrets Grow Up To Be Big Lies by DracoWillHearAboutThis

Henry meets Alex in a café as he's hiding from the Crown, the media and the public in general. But Alex is charming and alluring and draws him in right away. Alex also has no idea that he's a Prince.

Give Me Comfort, Give Me Help by dwell_the_brave

“I’ll be back by Thursday,” Philip promises, giving Martha a hand up the jet’s steps. She gives them a brief wave from the top of the stairs before disappearing. “Make sure you don’t ski off a cliff!” Bea calls after him as he follows his wife into the jet. He waves a hand dismissively at her and then withdraws into the darkness of the cabin. That’s the last thing any of them say to him. - Philip dies, and Henry becomes heir.

i could be a better boyfriend by bananzie

It wasn't that Alex didn't like telling people about Henry—quite the opposite, actually—it was just that no one ever believed him when he did. An AU in which Henry is one of England’s most famous rugby players, Alex met him during an exchange year, and they’re so in love it’s sickening, but no one believes him.

Just like that. by myheartalive

“I’m so glad my subpar sexual encounter has fed the brain worms. Something’s got to keep the little guys going.” Henry’s more relaxed now that he’s teasing Alex, and looks a lot more like his normal self. It feels a little easier to talk to him, to actually say what he’s thinking. “It’s just… I realised if that was me, I also wouldn’t know how to do it. How to find your…” “Prostate?” “Yeah. That.” — When Henry comes home from a date frustrated by the guy’s lack of expertise, Alex starts having thoughts. And then, because he’s Alex, he sticks his big foot in his even bigger mouth.

Kinda think that I might be his type by kiwiana

“Bea.” He clambers onto his knees, grabbing her hands in his own. “Bea, take me to Thanksgiving with you.” Bea blinks. Blinks again. “What?” “Bea, I could terrorise your gran until she’s begging you to stay single forever.” Or, Alex agrees to be his friend's fake boyfriend for a weekend. He is not prepared for his friend's brother.

until next wednesday! if you want me to tag you in future lists, let me know!

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #firstprince #alex and henry #henry fox mountchristen windsor #alex claremont diaz #Alex x Henry #fic rec #RWRB fic rec #RWRB fanfiction #rwrb rec list

[cowboybeepboop]

R u mine?

“Will you go out with me,”

“Well you fucked me multiple times, so i guess a date wouldnt be too bad,”

Part one ☝️ can be read as a stand-alone tho I think

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem! Reader

Genre: plot with some porn

Word count: 3627

Summary: neither of you wanted just a one night stand, but you were too stubborn to admit to it.

Warnings: jealous steve, gross sex (and not in the fun way), Sex with Tommy Hagan, there is like no cheating between any of the characters (Steve and reader, tommy and carol), degradation, semi public sex, choking, name calling, hair pulling, the degradation randomly turning into praise, my work is never proof-read

A/N: In this eddie isn't dead and like the upside down isn't mentioned like ever. Theres also like a scene with Tommy Hagan and like some very awkward sex between him and reader. I would also like to say that I normally do not post series and this is going to be the last part. However, if you guys would like to be tagged in any future steve related smut, you're free to comment or pm me <3

It’s been two weeks. A whole two weeks since your fuck-a-thon with none other than your sisters bestfriend. And god, it was all you could think of.

Fuck he was the first guy to ever bring you to orgasm. He’s so goddamn perfect, everything he did for you, he's all you think about day and night.

The pair of you have decided to try and pretend Robin didn't catch you sharing a bed half-naked, or at least she thought you were half-naked. Thankfully, Rob can be very dense sometimes and she thought nothing of it. Even though you were covered in hickeys and he had scratches all down his back, but who knows, maybe she just didn't notice.

Steve has done unbelievably well with pretending nothing happened, but for you it’s nearly impossible. Everytime you see him your heart pounds and your cunt aches.

Youre sort of angry with him, I mean, why the fuck hasn’t he even mentioned anything. Yes, of course you agreed to never speak of it, but still, the man came inside of you. Doesn't that mean anything to him?

You’re angrily chewing on your bottom lip, tapping your pen against the table, fuck that shit. You should’ve known, it’s Steve fucking Harrington. He’s known to just fuck around, but you know what, two can play at that game.

“Hey Robby,” you pout to your sister, who looks up at you.

“What is it? You've barely even been paying attention, I've been cheating this whole time and you don't even care?” she narrows her eyes at you tossing the yahtzee dice at you.

“Sorry, I know, it’s just that my mind was elsewhere,” you sigh, giving her puppy dog eyes, she rolls hers in response.

“Whatever, I get it,” she huffs while crossing her arms over her chest.

“We should go to a party tonight,” your eyes light up with your idea and she scratches her neck.

“Y/N, you know parties aren't my thing,” Robin stretches.

“Yeah but it could be fun, plus I heard that Carol is throwing some epic party at her parents lake house tonight,” you throw your arms around her neck, giving her a soft kiss on the cheek.

“Ew, why the hell would you want to go to one of her parties?” she pushes you away, “plus we have that camping trip with my friends tomorrow, I don’t think that showing up hungover is the best idea.”

“We both know that Jonathan is going to be high off his ass with Argyle and Eddie, who cares if I’m a little hungover?” pursing your lips you continue giving her puppy dog eyes.

“Okay, fine. We can go, but I’m calling Steve and Eddie to see if they’ll take us. I don’t want you getting drunk and lost.” you clench your jaw.

“Jesus it happened one time. Would you let it go already?” you glare at your younger sister while she laughs softly.

“Well, whatever. Can you help me get ready? I don't really know how to dress for those kinds of events.” robin follows you up the stairs keeping at your heels.

“Yes! Of course,” you perk up in excitement, “my baby girl is all grown up,” you squish her cheeks and push her to the edge of your bed before searching your closet for a skimpy dress. You know it’s definitely not what Robin was wanting, but it's probably what she was expecting, you’re all for people exploring their sexuality. Which is why you were shocked to find that Rob wasn’t all that interested in meaningless hookups, but then again, not everyone can be as careless as you. Plus it's probably better that she's staying safe.

“Okay, so I know this isn't exactly something you'd normally go for, but..” you hand her a keyhole red halter top and a black pleather mini-skirt. “It's a little showy for you, however, it's so hot. I mean goddamn, you'll have every girl swooning for you. Promise.” Robin flushes deep red.

“Are you sure?” she looks extremely unsure, “ i don't want to look like an out of place weirdo..” she looks all around the room avoiding my eyes.

“Robin, shut the fuck up, youre absolutely stunning. It doesn’t matter if it's not your normal style, you're beautiful in everything.” your eyebrows furrow.

She breathes a sigh of relief, “okay, i'll change right now.'' Robin is a little insecure but she knows she'll survive.

__________

About an hour and a half later, Robin has secured your ride and you’ve finished getting yourself ready. You were so glad Robin insisted that Steve accompany you to the party. It makes your plan that much easier to execute.

You knew for a fact that Tommy Hagan would be at the party, even if it's his ex girlfriends. He NEVER misses a good party and he can NEVER resist a girl dressed in green. Which is exactly why you chose an extremely short sparkly green dress with a semi see-through top. You even wore a matching green lace set underneath, you weren't sure how far you planned to take it but if anything Tommy is a good distraction right?

The sound of Eddie's van pulling into your driveway fills the silent living room, sucking in a deep breath as you stick your hands into your bra, pulling your tits up making sure they don't look anything less than perfect. Fuck Steve. God you want to fuck Steve so bad.

Robin lets the boys inside, offering them some water or snacks as you finish getting ready. A smirk paints itself on your features as you trample down the stairs.

“Rob, stop trying to stall. Let’s go,” you link arms with her pulling her out the door. You were completely oblivious to the pair of brown eyes glued to your ass.

“Jesus Steve, dont cream your pants just yet.” Eddie pushes Harrington's shoulder lightly before jogging to the driver's side of his van. “Hurry up before we leave,” Steve rolls his eyes, speed walking to the vehicle.

__________

About 30 minutes into the party you're tipsy and dancing with the still sober Robin, that is until an orange haired girl pulls her off to the side to talk with her. Puffing your cheeks, you continue dancing. The alcohol running through your veins gave you more confidence than usual. Soon enough a pair of strong warm hands found themselves on your hips.

You didn't even have to turn around, you knew exactly who it was. Tommy. His sickening cologne said it all, but desperate times call for desperate measures. You push your ass against him, grinding against his hard on, you throw your head against his shoulder allowing him to run his hands all over your body.

His lips find their way to your neck pressing sloppy kisses all over the place, his hand moves down your stomach and then the hem of your skirt. Tommy spins you around, placing his hands on your ass while you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Let's find a room,” you bite your lip while giving him a seductive look, “sound good big boy?” you lick your bottom lip while rubbing your leg against his crotch.

“Fuck yeah,” tommy wraps a hand around your wrist, guiding you into an empty bathroom.

Unfortunately or fortunately, Steve saw this exchange and followed the two of you. Tommy closed and locked the door before he could stop you from going in with him. Harrington clenches his fists, for a while he contemplates breaking the door down.

What the hell were you thinking? If you needed a good time you should have gone to him, rather than tommy the fucking prick hagan.

Tommy was sucking hard hickeys onto your breasts and shoulders while awkwardly slamming his dick inside you. He’s too fucking thick to realize that youre bone dry and youre not enjoying a single second of this exchange.

You continue to fake enjoyment regardless, moaning loud “Yes! Yes! Tommy, right there” and “I’m so close”, he roughly shoves your head against the wall as he speeds up. God it felt like he was starting a fire inside you, and not in a good way. He finally cums, you pretend to have an orgasm as he leans against you trying to catch his breath.

“We should do that again soon,” he winks at you, the second he unlocks the door Steve slams it open.

“Tommy get the fuck out. Now.” you've never been scared of steve before, but the look of pure rage in his eyes has you trying to make yourself invisible. Hagan leaves with a huff.

“Steve, she isn't some sort of property. Didn't mommy ever teach you to share your toys,” he chuckles as the door slams in his face. You hop off the sink, crossing your arms over your chest shooting a glare at steve.

“What the fuck,” you push a finger into his chest, “why are you so fucking worked up. Mind your own business honey.” slipping your panties back on your reach for the doorknob, Steve blocks you from the door. His eyes scanning your face, he relaxes his jaw slightly, trying to calm himself down.

“Are you fucking drunk?” he whisper yells at you, “What the hell, youre supposed to be the responsible one. Robin is worried fucking sick and youre up here fucking some douche in the bathroom. For fucks sake Y/N. why are you so fucking reckless.'' His stern voice sends chills down your body.

“Steve, get out of my way,” you maintain eye contact, baling your hands up into fists.

“Fine,” he moves out of the way, letting you walk out. You slam the door and stomp down the stairs, Steve runs his hand through his hair. He notices the soiled condom in the trash and kicks the bin so hard it breaks. “FUCK.” he yells.

You managed to find Eddie and Robin in a small corner which is a little secluded. “Hey, Y/N have you seen Steve?” your sister questions with flushed cheeks, she's tripping over her own feet, quite obviously tipsy.

“No, I haven’t. But maybe you and I should get fresh air while Eds looks for him, hm?” she nods, wrapping her arms around your neck. You guide her out the door, helping her into the back of the van. She lays down, putting her head in your lap.

__________

Eddie shows up an hour late, making up some dumb excuse about what took so long. Rovin definitely didn't mind the extra sleep, you helped him load up your stuff before climbing in the back of the van with nance and jonathan.

It's kinda awkward seeing him again after the last conversation you had. You knew for a fact that he told nancy so as soon as eddie runs back inside to help robin get the beers you guys bought for the trip you burst out.

“Look i didnt mean anything, it was some stupid dare that harrington gave me. I would hate for you guys to get the wrong idea.” you stare at the floor with a deep blush spreading on your cheeks.

“I figured as much, you were the first person to encourage us to get together, I doubt you'd try and break us apart.” Nancy gives you a sweet smile patting your shoulder softly. A relieved expression finds its way onto your face, robin hops into the van next to you.

“OK, just one more stop and then we'll be on our way to the campsite.” Eddie smiles in the mirror, brushing his bangs behind his ear.

You really, really don't want to see Harrington, like at all. So you decide to fake a nap against the robin before you actually fall asleep.

Steve was restless in the passenger seat, the peaceful look on your face was driving him insane. His mind wanders back to earlier this morning, the second he got home he grabbed the panties he previously stole and fucked his fist with them wrapped around his hard dick.

He honestly lost count of how many times he came into your panties, he was furious. Especially with himself, its not like he was your boyfriend, he had no right to be so pissed that you were fucking someone else.

But for fucks sake, he was in the same house as you. Couldn't you have had the decency to leave with Tommy or even better, hook up with some other asshole. Steve was beyond jealous, he just barely fulfilled his fantasy of making love to you.

__________

“Okay so we have three tents,” Nancy taps her chin, “who wants to stay with who, Jon and I are obviously sharing,” Jonathan smiles warmly while wrapping an arm around his girlfriend.

“As much as I enjoy your friendship, I think it’d be uncomfortable having both of us in the same tent,” Eddie says to Steve, patting his shoulder with a coy smirk.

“Yeah you're right, maybe we can share a tent,'' Robin locks arms with eddie.

“So Y/N and Steve, you've got to share the last tent,” he folds his arms over his chest.

“I’ll just sleep outside,” he clenches his jaw and walks off to get “firewood”.

You roll your eyes, where does he get off acting like such a douche bag. Eddie follows Harrington, Jonathan continues putting together his and Nancy’s tent.

“What the hell is that all about?” Nancy questions, crossing her arms over her chest, furrowing her eyebrows.

“Yeah, what happened with you guys last night?” Robin questions with a soft tone. Her eyes filled with worry, she chews on her bottom lip.

“It’s nothing, he just walked in on tommy and i after we,” you smirk softly, “after he thought he gave me the best sex of my life,” you laugh.

“Why did you hook up with him?” the girl's face contorts in disgust while you just shrug.

“I dunno, he was just there,” you plop down on a foldable chair, “it wasn't even worth it though.'' Nancy laughs loudly.

“Of course it was shit, it’s fucking Tommy Hagan.” Robin smiles wide.

__________

Jonathan and eddie have gotten high off their asses, laughing at dumb shit even the fucking trees. Steve is talking to Robin, ignoring your presence.

“Hey guys, imma head to bed,” you cover your mouth yawning silently, they all tell you goodnight. You smile before unzipping the tent, slipping in and zipping it back up. You change into some skimpy lingerie, I know really not the most practical but you suck at actually doing laundry so you’ll have to survive, sneaking under the covers you sigh.

Shivers run down your spine, as rain starts to lightly pour down. You can hear Nancy and Robin scolding Steve and yelling at him to go inside your tent.

“Whatever, fine I’ll go in, just get out of the fucking rain.” Steve's voice is right outside the tent, you suck in a deep breath turning to face the side of the tent. Harrington pulls the zipper carefully, trying to not wake you up, “Shit,” he whispers as he pulls his shoes off.

Your body is shaking uncontrollably, the cold mixed with your stupid lace nightie and the lack of body warmth in the stupid tent. “Hey, are you still awake?” you bite your tongue, squeezing your eyes shut tightly hoping he doesn't notice you're faking it.

“Goddamn it dumbass,” he pulls his sleeping bag on top of yours, throwing the thick blanket he brought along over you. “You’re freezing your fucking ass off,” steve slides into your sleeping bag, pushing his body into yours.

His breathing regulates as he snores softly, you stay wide awake with heat building in your panties, biting down on your lip you sink your hand into your panties. Running your index and middle fingers though your folds, pressing hard circles into your clit, the pleasure has your eyebrows furrowing, eyes closing and desperate pants falling from your lips.

This is probably the most horny you've ever been, no matter what you've never stooped to this level. You've never fantasized about someone while they were right there, right next to you with their hands under your breast, the emotions are just too overwhelming, you just want him.

Using your free hand you cover your mouth trying to hold back moans, leaning your head back you insert a finger into your hole. “Princess, what are you doing?” Steve whispers into your ear, you cease all movements, his hands move up squeezing your boobs roughly. “Was it not enough that you fucked Tommy last night? Are you that big of a slut?” his hand slips into your panties he pulls your hand away and he pushes two fingers into your cunt.

A loud moan rings in the air, Steve wraps his hand around your neck, “Careful Princess, wouldn't want everyone to know just how much of a whore you are,” biting down on your lip you try to stay quiet. Harrington finger fucks you roughly, rubbing your clit with his thumb, keeping his animalistic pace.

“Pathetic slut,” his voice comes out in a hiss as you cum around his fingers, eyes rolling into the back of your head as your toes curl. Steve pulls his pants off, palming thick cock through his boxers, “suck me off Y/N” he grabs a handful of your hair pulling you close to his crotch. You pull down his boxers wrapping both hands around his cock, pushing the tip in your mouth slowly bobbing your head.

“Good girl, just like that,” he pushes your head down softly causing you to gag on his length. Steve groans, throwing his head against his pillow allowing his hips to buck into your mouth, your eyes begin to water. His pace starts to grow sloppy, your throat becoming sore, he pulls you up on his chest.

“Fuck why are you wearing that?” he pulls your nightie off causing your nipples to pebble instantly, his hands rest on your sides as he grinds you down on him.

“I forgot to do laundry,” you say softly, “do you have a condom?” he smirks.

“Yeah in my wallet,” you grab his wallet as Steve takes his shirt off, he's decided you're taking too long. Harrington creeps up behind you, kissing your spine gently, his hands wrap around to squeeze your boobs.

“Steve, be patient.” you grab the gold foil wrapper and put it in steve's hand, you put his wallet back away and crawl over to him. Watching him slide the rubber over his throbbing cock, you throw your panties over by the pile of clothes, he motions for you to come closer.

“Y/N get over here,” your heart rate increases as his hands rest on your hips, pushing his dick into your soaked pussy, a quiet gasp rings through the silent tent. “You’ll have to be quiet,'' Steve says sternly, furrowing his eyebrows as he lays his head against his pillow, having you riding him was enough to kill him.

You pick up your pace, grinding your hips against Steves, the echoing sound of your skins slapping could probably be heard twenty feet away. Harrington didn't care, whenever you slowed your pace he would grip your ass and bounce it on his cock, making sure to fill you with pleasure.

Steve uses his middle and pointer finger to rub sloppy circles into your sensitive nub, causing your body to jerk forward and your eyes to flutter shut, soft moans fill his ears. You wrap your arms around his neck, biting down on his shoulder to keep quiet, he runs his hand through your hair pulling your head back.

His eyes narrow in on the reddish-purple marks Tommy left the night before, his jaw goes slack, he flips you on your back. He sucks rough marks all over your neck, he fucks into you furiously, the whole tent around you moving back and forth along with steve.

“You like that? Fucking slut,” he wraps a hand around your throat squeezing just enough to make you gasp for air.

Steve throws his head back in pleasure, you begin to tighten up around him drawing out a long groan. “Steve,” you chant his name, “more, please I need more,”, he complies with your desires and angles your bodies so he hits even deeper.

“I’m gonna cum,” you moan into his ear, he slows down pulling you against his chest, you climax around him. Steve bucks up into you one last time before he cums, filling the condom. He pulls out, takes off the condom and ties the top, he quickly gets dressed.

You begin to stress, once he opens the zipper to the tent you're still sat naked, fully exposed to the cold air. It begins to feel like there's something stuck in the back of your throat, Steve comes back into the tent, zipping it back up.

“Why didn't you get dressed, you're freezing,'' Steve pulls his sweatshirt off and puts it on for you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I have a question for you,” he chews his lip while looking into your eyes.

“What is it?” you play with the sleeves of his favorite sweater before slipping under the covers once again.

“Will you go out with me,” Steve cracks his neck before following suit and laying next to you.

“Well you fucked me multiple times, so i guess a date wouldnt be too bad,” he smiles pulling you against him, burying your head into his chest.

“Goodnight Y/N,” he whispers into your ear before kissing the top of your head.

@urs-angel @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom

#stranger things season four #smut #steve x reader smut #Steve Harrington smut #stranger things smut #steve harrington x reader #steve smut #steve harrington #Spotify

[gravehags]

fever for the fire

Pairing: Cumulus x f!Reader

Rating: Explicit

18+ ONLY MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Tags: semi-public sex, soft dom Cumulus, finger fucking, reader staring at Cumulus' divine cleavage, Cumulus being a little bit of a stalker, pet names

Words: 1,720

Summary: This party fucking sucks. But what's waiting for you outside, certainly doesn't.

a/n: HORNY GHOULETTE HOURS ARE NOW here's the Cumulus smut I promised y'all and there's not a lot of story build up I just want to do filthy, filthy lesbian things to her. That's it that's the fic. Also era 4 ghoul outfits fucking rule.

---

All at once, the party became too goddamn loud.

Someone brought an amp and Dewdrop’s guitar out and all of a sudden, they were being treated to the most horrific hell sounds from the aforementioned instrument while the offending ghoul laughed and laughed. Siblings were getting more and more animated as more and more liquor became consumed and those who hadn’t found someone to make out with were playing drinking games on the ornate mahogany table. You could feel the headache creep up your spine and start to settle at the base of your skull, so you set your punch down (what was even in this stuff?) and stepped out. After you shut the door behind you, the party became wonderfully muffled as you wandered down the cloister towards the courtyard. Finally, you had traveled enough that the chirp of crickets was the only sound filling the air, the hot day finally surrendering to a pleasantly warm summer night. You walked out a few yards onto the grass after slipping off your party shoes and luxuriated in the cool blades beneath your feet and the bliss of finally being alone.

Or so you thought.

“Hey,” the voice comes from behind you suddenly and you spin in place, cussing loudly. Reclining on a lawn chair lounge was a ghoulette with crooked smile on her lips. Her head was cocked slightly to the side, causing the riot of blonde curls that erupted from it to bounce. You could see her fangs peeking out as her smile widened.

“Fucking hell you scared the shit out of me,” you sighed, hands fidgeting in front of you as the ghoulette continued to stare. “You’re…you’re Cumulus, right?” It was an educated guess. Or rather a guess based on her beautiful curvy figure which you had observed from time to time in the library. You knew her name, but that was all.

The ghoulette makes a noise of affirmation in her throat, somewhere halfway between a giggle and a purr. It makes your stomach clench and you flex the muscles in your hands before putting them behind your back.

“Nice night,” Cumulus says in her warm voice, turning her gaze skyward. You nod and when you actually take in her figure, your throat goes dry. She’s wearing the standard ghoul uniform, but had done away with the restricting tie and had unbuttoned the black dress shirt enough to give a glorious view of her ample cleavage, framed between black suspenders. You avert your gaze a moment too late and you can see her fangs again as you flush horribly.

“Take a seat, sugar.” She pats the cushion next to her left knee and you hesitate only a moment before complying. “Party too much for you?”

You roll your shoulders and groan, very aware of how close the two of you are now.

“It’s not my scene, I got bullied into coming and then got ditched. Typical shit.”

She tuts and begins to wind one of her ringlets around a clawed finger. You try not to watch out of the corner of your eye.

“Poor thing,” she coos. “And now you’ve found me. You’re one of the librarians, right?”

You’ve never seen Cumulus before, well not without a mask that is, and you frown slightly.

“Uh yeah. How did you know that? Have we met?”

Sharp white teeth flash in the darkness and she takes her bottom lip between them while looking at you from underneath long lashes. Your cunt clenches and you’re back to balling your fists, trying desperately to smother whatever the fuck this is.

“No, we haven’t met. Not formally anyway, but I’ve seen you puttering around with the books. Pretty little thing.” Your eyes go wide and there’s that feeling again in your stomach as your eyes dart to meet hers. When she reaches out to brush the tips of her fingers against the fist at your side you nearly choke, chest heaving. Her fingers inch forward to toy with the black and red fabric of your slinky dress and you let out an exhale you know sounds so pathetically desperate but fuck she was the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen and that was with the mask. The fuck were you supposed to do now after seeing her face?

“Do you want me, little librarian?” she asks suddenly. She’s not looking at you, but instead at the material in between her fingers. “Because I’ve wanted you. I watch, you know. I’ve seen the way you smile. The way your hair falls over your shoulders. The way you’ve gone so long, so painfully ignored by others. Tell me, would you let me have you all to myself?” Her eyes shoot upwards to meet yours again and your jaw hangs open inelegantly, mouth dry and body wanting.

“Yes.” Your voice is raw and cracked, you know you sound like these are the first words you’ve ever spoken in your life. She pulls back, practically glowing, and pats her lap.

“C’mere, baby,” she says softly and you don’t even hesitate before standing up. You inch your dress up your thighs and with a few maneuvers manage to straddle her generous hips. When you settle, she slides her hands up your thighs and you gasp at how cool her touch is.

“Air ghoul,” she says simply while caressing your legs, delighting in how the goosebumps pebble under her touch. You nod dumbly, bracing yourself on the arms of the lawn chair. You’re soaking wet, so wet you wouldn’t be surprised if you were leaving an embarrassing mark on the front of Cumulus’ black jeans but she doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, she’s almost gleeful as her hands slide further up your thighs to grip at your hips and belly, her claws digging deliciously into your flesh. You bite back a moan at the sensation as your hips rock wantonly against her. All she has to do is lean forward ever so slightly and you’re lunging towards her to slam your mouth into hers. You’re over-eager but she’s patient, waiting for you to slow and match her pace as she languidly licks into your mouth. She makes sweet noises under you and you cant your hips again, sucking hungrily on her bottom lip. When she moves one of her hands from under your dress to pull at your hair you break the kiss with a loud moan. Cumulus smiles up at you beatifically as you continue to grind your sopping cunt onto her.

“P-please. Please Cumulus, I need you.”

She laughs at you, warm and bright, continuing to caress your scalp.

“You want me here? Right now, in the garden? Where anyone can see us? Filthy girl.”

A pitiful whine leaves your lips when you feel one of her claws toying with the waistband of your underwear. You’re starting to feel dizzy and drunk, long after the party punch has worn off. Her hand slides down between the two of you and you choke on your gasp when she pushes the gusset of your panties aside, letting her fingers brush at the heat of you. She inhales sharply through her nose and a small growl bubbles from her throat.

“So fucking wet, baby. I’ve wanted this for so long.”

You nod frantically and your grip on the arms of the lawn chair becomes painful when she slips one finger between your folds and runs the pad of it over your clit. You practically howl and she rubs at you slowly, methodically. Cumulus is breathing heavily now, clearly enjoying the mess you’re making on her hand as she slides her finger inside of you and you loudly keen. Her pace begins to gradually quicken as she adds another finger, curling both inside of you to hit that gorgeous spot that makes lights dance across your vision. She’s gasping and heaving as much as you are as she fucks into you, the noises of your slick the only sound in the darkened garden. When she slows, your eyes fly to hers to plead and she grins.

“Fuck yourself on my fingers, honey. I want to see you come undone.”

Your jaw hangs open and your hips begin to rock against her stilled fingers. She’s got them curled perfectly inside you and you do as she asks, head tilting back as you use her. She’s whispering filthy things to you – that’s it love, so good for me, so fucking sweet – but you barely hear them over the sound of your own moans. Your hips and thighs burn from the effort of riding her hand and you’re about to collapse when you feel that familiar pull on your spine, moving upwards towards your chest. The sounds you’re making are lewd and you’ve probably attracted attention to your quiet garden spot but you can’t stop the jolt of your hips. When you open your eyes to look into her heated stare, you stop breathing for one beat, two beats, and then cry out sharply. She finishes the job, her fingers pistoning inside you at an impossible pace as you ride your orgasm, cunt clenching on her. Cumulus doesn’t stop when your body twitches with overstimulation, not until you mewl against her chest begging for mercy. Slowly, she removes her hand from your underwear and Satan, it’s embarrassingly wet, but she revels in it. Bringing her hand up to her mouth you see her fangs flash yet again as she wantonly licks a stripe up her palm and slips her two fingers inside her mouth. The sound she makes is enough to cause your hips to jerk against her one last time and when she pulls you in to taste yourself on her mouth you don’t object. Pressing your foreheads together she lets out a contented sound before cupping your cheeks in both her hands.

“We, uh,” the words feel heavy and slow on your tongue, “we should probably take this somewhere else.”

“Think you made enough noise to wake the dead, sweetheart, but sure. I know a place.”

When you finally disengage yourself from her and stand, the ache in your thighs and knees causes you to groan. She hops up with little effort and pulls you eagerly towards the direction of the ghoul den.

Your shoes sit forgotten in the grass.

#cumulus ghoulette #nameless ghoulettes #the band ghost #the band ghost fic #ghoulette fic #cumulus x reader #cumulus x f!reader #rachel writes

[ms-nesbit]

Sweet home chicago (jason todd x afab!reader)

chapter one

Rating: 18+

Warnings: eventual smut, swearing, father figure dick grayson, skater tim drake, sad jason todd :(

Summary: dick and tim trick jason into taking a vacation in chicago. There, he meets someone he hopes to never forget.

Note: im sorry for dipping, yall. I really had some important things to take care of.

ao3

Amber and rose peeked through the hedge between the array of buildings on Michigan Avenue. Jason blended himself with the sea of tourists and chic aristocrats. He didn’t necessarily stick out like a sore thumb, as there were a few Chicagoans dressed casually like him; even in the late-November evening, he sported his signature red hoodie and straight fit jeans, tattered and dirty near the hem. No matter what, he wanted to appear mildly stressed, only mildly, so as to not draw more attention to himself than his six-foot-four frame already did.

He wondered how he got here. Was it the phone call from Dick, or the two dozen from Tim? Could it have been neither, and he perhaps wanted to rush the plane during the busiest season, nudged in a lousy middle seat between an obnoxious preteen and a middle-aged woman watching poorly edited, extremist conservative media? To be fair, Jason treated himself to Portillo’s once he left the airport - a well-earned reward for not lashing out at the self-absorbed individuals beside him.

He stepped briskly, moving in sync with the less-anxious of the crowd toward the shopping district notoriously named Magnificent Mile. On his left ear, he heard the excitement in the tune of indistinguishable conversations and the season’s final water taxis boarding; in his right, a wireless earbud, softly playing his childhood favorite, Diana Ross and the Supremes.

Once he reached the other end of the bridge, he strolled to the sidewalk in front of Tribune Tower, pulling his phone out and indiscreetly sending a message of his coordinates to-

A call. “As much as I love the smell of fish, garbage, and the crooked CPD, why did you and Tim want me here?” Jason was more curious than upset, but he’d rather not disclose his true feelings to his brothers.

“C’mon, Jay, it’s the Windy City! You ever been to Chicago?” Dick asked. “Beautiful everything here. Tim’s at the Van store up the street, and I’m grabbing a slice of pizza across from ya. You wanna come over and get a slice, grumpy? You get a little hangry sometimes.”

Jason sighed, and his stomach grumbled in response to the offer. “Alright, but I’m not goin’ outside. I sat next to some wackjob on the flight who sounded like she needed to be in the looney bin, and I’m not lookin’ to make friends.” As he spoke, he quickly turned his head before dashing across the busy street, waving off a car blaring its horn at him. “What’do’ey have?”

“How about you see?” Dick approached Jason, smiling mischievously. Jason ended the call, moving his eyes to Dick’s hands behind his back. “Guess what I got?”

“Dick, I’m not in the mood for games-”

“Ta-da!” Dick shifted in his coat, revealing a white box with a drawn pizza and the name Lou Malnati’s on it. Jason pretended like his mouth didn’t water at the smell of grease and garlic. “I had ‘em make a classic cheese with those square slices. How about we sit down on the riverfront and talk?”

And talk. No matter the temptation, be it a buttery, gooey pizza right under Jason’s nose, he still believed it wasn’t worth the compromise of having to make more than small talk with others. “Listen, Dickie, as much as I appreciate the offer, I don’t think I’m ready to talk about-”

“Dude, this isn’t about Artemis, if that’s what you’re about to say.” Dick shrugged in his beige peacoat, a piece of his thick, navy, knitted cardigan spilling from his waist. “I just want to, y’know, see if you want to go to this thing tonight.”

Jason cocked a brow in his theatrical manner. “So you and Tim badgered me, had me fly all the way to goddamn Chicago, all to just talk over some overpriced pizza?” Around him, he felt the glare of customers, but he doubled down, giving them knowing looks. “I’ve been here. Want a real place? Go to the goddamn place off Clark and Dickens. You’ll thank me later.”

Dick rolled his eyes, already tired by Jason’s heels in the sand. “Always gotta be a drama queen. Just…come with me. I’ll explain once we’re out of earshot.” His voice was hushed, signaling Jason to follow suit. They walked together to the riverwalk, sitting on the cold high-risen edging. Dick delicately opened the lid of the box, revealing the savory American delicacy and motioning for Jason to take the first slice.

Once Jason reached for the slice, taking his first bite and stretching the rosemary-seasoned cheese from its bed atop the crust, Dick began. “Tim and I were thinking that the three of us could use a break.” Jason grumbled indistinctly into his pizza slice, swirling the string of cheese around his tongue in a tight noose. “Bruce has been a handful lately - I mean, he always is - and I think it would be a good lesson for him to finally be on his own instead of taking us for granted, y’know?”

Jason nodded, rearranging his food to one side of his mouth so he could speak with the other. “You do know that Bruce is probably better off without me, right? Since I-” he swallowed the food, kissing the excess sauce and garlic from his teeth, “leave a ‘pretty big mess’, as he says.”

“You also help. Gang-related crime decreased about 37 percent when Red Hood regularly patrolled, and the Gotham Gazette did a poll, based on before and after Red: thanks to Red Hood, 6 out of 10 female Gothamites feel safe walking home at night, compared to the 3 out of 10 prior to Red Hood’s introduction.”

The statistic surprised Jason. He was used to the smearing from Justice League’s best, so it was nice to hear a compliment for a change. “And Timmy’s on board with this?” He didn’t hesitate to take a second slice, while Dick left the pizza untouched.

“He was the one who coined it.” Dick looked out at the river, mildly put off by Jason’s shameless eating habits. “We were patrolling one night and he just said it out of the blue. I get it, though.” He pursed his lips, staring wistfully. “I couldn’t tell you before because then you wouldn’t agree to it.”

Dick was right: when he’d offer to take Jason in after they reconciled, Jason refused. Though not Bruce’s blood son, Jason was comparably stubborn, sometimes surpassing the Dark Knight. “And where are we gonna stay?”

“That’s the best part.” Dick finally reached for a slice, folding it in half and dipping a chunk into his mouth to cut from the slice. “Tim hacked into Bruce’s business travel account and used some of his points to book a stay at some fancy place called Waldalf…lemme check.” Dick reached into his peacoat pocket and pulled out his phone, checking the reservation. He continued to chew, as did Jason, and Dick leaned over to show Jason the reservation email. “Astoria. It’s a couple of blocks here, I think. Worst case, we can just use a taxi or Uber there or something.”

“I’m banned from using Uber.” Jason said nonchalantly, squinting at the details on Dick’s pristine phone screen before looking the name up for himself. “I can walk as long as I can have another slice.”

Dick blinked at Jason blankly before glancing at the remnants of the pizza. “Take the small one right there.” Removing a wrinkled, discolored restaurant napkin from his back pocket, Jason snatched the slice with an asymmetrical, genuine smile, now holding a slice in each hand. Dick bit his tongue in his mouth to keep himself from laughing. If he hadn’t held a slice in his, he would have snapped a photo to send to the family group chat. “We’re already checked in, so just bring whatever luggage you have with you.”

Jason looked up from his slices like a deer in the headlights. “Sorry, I didn’t think to bring anything other than the usual.” With a slice, he vaguely gestured to his dirty clothes.

“I was…expecting that.” Dick chuckled lightly. “I brought you some clothes so you could go out and enjoy yourself for a change.” He spotted Jason’s eye roll. “You’re in your twenties, for crying out loud. Enjoy yourself! Make a friend. Would it kill you to just live?”

As Jason shook his head, a few strands of grey fell from his messily combed back hair and onto his forehead. “What, is coming back from the dead and seeking vengeance to blood-thirsty psychopaths not living?”

“No, it’s not.” a voice came from the other side of the riverwalk, by the bustling street: a lanky-built male, wearing a beige Santa Cruz sweatshirt and dark jeans, strolled on his skateboard toward the brothers. “And by the way, Jason, you look no different than the bourgeoisie skimming the racks at Urban Outfitters over there.” Jason’s frown dropped at Tim, already bugged by him. “Me and Dick were basically wanting you to, y’know, socialize like a normal human being. I know you’re an introvert, I get that, but you’ve gotta, y’know…converse.”

 Jason stood from the platform, brushing the suggestion from his broad shoulders. “Jesus, and you wonder why I don’t want to hang out with you guys.” he made an excuse and walked back toward Michigan Ave, finishing his slices along the way.

“By the way, Dick.” Tim nudged Dick with his elbow, showing him a photo of zoomed-in Jason, a few minutes earlier, smiling goofily with his two slices of pizza pie.

Dick erupted into laughter, doubling over and nearly knocking over the box.

-

“You got the terrace suite?” Jason muttered in blustering shock. “Bruce is going to be so pissed.” His lips stretched into a wide smile.

He plopped onto the sleeper sofa, sprawling his limbs out to relax. Dick assigned Jason to the couch (“Finder’s keepers!”), while Dick and Tim each slept in their separate rooms. “We already received a warning about how you’re dressed, Jason, so if you could please promptly change into something more appropriate, I’m sure this stay would be more enjoyable for all of us.” Dick managed to remain calm while conveying, despite the fatherly-level of disappointment underneath his skin.

Heeding Dick’s advice, Jason made his way to Dick’s room, where he opened up the luggage Dick neatly packed for him: a pair of dress shoes, two pairs of socks and boxer briefs (all red, for continuity’s sake), along with a lightweight, tightly knitted sweater, t-shirt, long-sleeve undershirts, and two pairs of slacks (one beige, one black). Jason sighed halfheartedly, bummed by the array chosen for him. He knew, of course, it was his responsibility to select his own attire, but of course he’d forgotten it, lost in the chaos of his everyday life; Dick anticipated Jason’s reaction, and packed something nonetheless, and although grateful, Jason still hesitated to express it.

While Tim and Dick explored the depths of downtown, Jason immersed himself into the room, quietly exploring the channels that Astoria offered.

Knock, knock. “Housekeeping!”

Jason yelled back, “Come in.” while munching on a bag of corn chips on the couch, eyes lasered on the television screen.

The housekeeper, wearing a black and sky blue uniform, pushed his trolley in. “Are you enjoying your stay, Sir?”

Jason shrugged. “My ma was a housekeeper for a bit. Don’t worry about the ‘sir’ stuff, it’s all good.” The response was new to the employee, who stood for a moment before excusing himself to clean the bathroom and bedrooms.

“Sir,” the housekeeper returned, gripping the trolley behind him with a single hand. “Would you mind vacating the room while I clean, or should I return if you are…busy?”

Jason looked at the chip crumbs on his hoodie before looking back at the housekeeper. “I’ve no problem leaving. I’ve gotta change, so I’ll go the other room. Could you just lock the door when you leave?”

“Absolutely, Sir.” the housekeeper said before Jason shut the bathroom door, slacks and sweater in hand.

—

Stepping out from the courtyard of the hotel premises, Jason wandered down the corner, unable to prevent himself from making grotesque faces at the high-end stores nearby. The breeze chilled the skin on his face to the point where it eventually felt like he was kissed by needles, and he unlocked his phone to find a place to settle down and (hopefully) eat. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed an approaching blotch of yellow and blue, to which he immediately hailed down. A taxi parked along the curb, and Jason hopped in. “Could you please take me away from here? Some place with some good food?”

The driver gave Jason a look of uncertainty, pondering before nodding and starting the meter.

Jason sat back and relaxed as giant metallic letters standing proudly on top of clear, godliness glass storefronts began to disappear, one by one, until they were replaced with bulletins and signs, and tented storefronts matched with painted, worn down brickwork.

He exhaled in relief. Despite living with Bruce and his luxurious lifestyle, the unspoken language of wealth was still foreign to Jason. He didn’t understand why the affluent would whisper, and why evil would poison their tongue and burn away at their heart once their financial wealth accrued.

After slipping the taxi driver a couple of hundred dollar bills, Jason abruptly left the vehicle, reading the name of the restaurant to himself. “Like the song…?” he asked the driver, who nodded.

“Different spelling, different things.”

Jason inhaled nasily, chest rising. “Alrighty, thanks, man.”

The driver nodded once again before waving and merging back into traffic. Jason entered the restaurant and was instantly greeted with sweet and savory notes, causing Jason’s stomach to cramp in pain. He walked up to the counter, so clean that he could almost make his reflection out, and waited for an employee to serve him. While he waited, he studied the menu: sandwiches, soups, and more appetizers to choose from. He chewed on his bottom lip, distressed when deciding between pasteles (mix of plantain mix and meat, wrapped in a banana leaf) or mofongo (stuffed plantain).

“When you’re ready, I can take you.” A voice notified him as he stood like a bronze statue before the menu.

He didn’t take his eyes off the photos above the counter. “Sorry about this, I’m a first timer - what are your pasteles filled with?”

“Usually pork or chicken, but we make them with cheese now since there are some vegetarians.”

“Could I have just pasteles, one with cheese filling and one with chicken?” Jason asked.

The clerk pressed a button on the register, which was a tablet with a brightly lit screen. “Sure thing. Anything else?”

“Yeah, and…pastellitos de guayaba? Can I have that, too? And water.”

The clerk pressed the screen a few times, noting down Jason’s order. “Of course. For here or to go?”

Jason finally tore his eyes from the menu to look at the clerk, and his mouth fell open at the sight of the clerk: hair was tightly curled, coiled from their roots; lips plump and glossy, appearing much more enticing to Jason than the food he ogled at.

“Here.” he stuttered, feeling heat rise up to his neck. The clerk smiled at him, and they placed their hand on their wide hip, bringing Jason’s eye to it.

“It’ll be ready in a bit. We’ll bring it to your seat, yeah? Sientate.” They motioned with their nose at the dining area, a selection of polished wooden chairs and tables to choose from.

Before he could ask for their name, the clerk rushed to the kitchen of the restaurant, repeating his order to the rest of the staff. Jason watched them walk away, their bottom half swaying in the leggings they wore, before he realized his leering and chose an empty seat and table near the colorful mural.

Thoughts rushed to the tall man’s head, some impure ones welcoming themselves for the first time since he and Artemis parted. Their relationship was, in short, complicated, and neither of them were fully transparent toward another, leading to the inevitable diffusion of the once-kindled fire; it didn’t break Jason’s heart, but rather disappointed him, and he felt that his fate of inescapable loneliness was encapsulated.

The clerk reappeared from the kitchen, holding two plates of food. They walked past Jason, ignoring whatever eye contact he attempted to make at them, and attended to the table diagonally from his. “Y te quedas a tu mama, ok?” They spoke warmly but sternly to the couple, before leaving with a grin. “And you,” they pointed at Jason, “your pastellios should be ready in one to two minutes, okay?”

Jason nodded frantically, popping an optimistic grin. “Can’t wait.”

“I know.” they winked at Jason before turning back around and walking through the revolving door leading to the kitchen. Jason felt something distant in his stomach. Perhaps hunger?

In a few minutes, the mysterious clerk returned, holding what Jason hoped was his food. When they arrived at his table, settling the plates down delicately before handing him cutlery and a glass, he beamed first at the food, then at the beautiful clerk. He didn’t know which he was more excited for. “Thank you!”

“Not a problem.” they returned his smile, eyes glistening at him. “Our chef is working on something else for you to carry out, free of charge. Can’t let you starve out on us, right, big guy?” their eyes briefly scanned Jason’s figure, which caused Jason’s cheeks to flush a bright pink.

They’re hitting on me, the fuck. “Thanks! I was hoping maybe I can come back, get your name?”

“Oooh, I like the sound of that.” their voice dipped an octave, and Jason swore he felt his pants tighten under the table. He shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “How about I save you the trouble and tell ya now, that way next time you can take me out for dessert?”

Jason smirked at them, slowly checking their figure out before focusing his attention back on their eyes. “Sure.”

“It’s y/n.” they purred, reaching their hand to rest on Jason’s bicep. Their skin was soft, yet calloused. “And you are…?”

“Jason.” he grinned. “Sorry, I’m new at this.”

“Don’t worry.” they assured. “I’m here if you need anything. And if you decide to take me on that offer, my number is in the check right there.” they pointed to the black checkbook beside the plates of food. Jason’s skin was burning under their touch, and when y/n had to leave, Jason felt a twinge of sadness when they retracted their hand.

Unraveling his cutlery from the napkin, Jason made sure to make an important phone call before his vacation ended.

#mine #my post #jason todd #robin #batfamily #red hood #dc #dcu #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd x reader #jason todd x plus size reader #yes the reader is plus size fuck u #plus size reader #adab!reader #jason todd smut #jason todd fanfiction

[chronic-ghost]

Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire

rating: M (just for language)

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

word count: 5619

summary: you're a human lie detector-- so you tell the handsome man at the Jim Bo’s Burger Barn at 3AM. Too bad you're too drunk to catch up to his lies.

warnings: language, references to drugs/cartels, drinking, smoking, this one is pretty tame, no use of y/n

a/n: this is my Poker Face adjacent fic and inspired by the scene where Javi so innocently flirts with that american wife in the lounge. might become a series but not quite sure yet. lemme know which direction I should take this, if I should take it anywhere at all!

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You attract trouble.

You attract trouble like you put on your nicest dress, did your hair, fixed up your tits, and doused yourself in trouble-pheromones. Like you found trouble curled up on the side of the road, sad and alone like a lost dog, and you gave it a cookie and now it swings around your ankles, always moments away from knocking you on your ass. Except it’s not a dog, it’s a chimpanzee that’s finally snapped and it’s pissed–  it’s beating on the bars of its cage, it’s yowling, howling, it’s coming after you to eat off your goddamn face and–

Okay, back up a bit. 

You have a thing that gets you into trouble. No, not like a self-destructive habit or a weird twitch. It’s not drugs or alcohol or even a dumbass ex. It’s this thing you’ve always been able to do, always known, and because of your big mouth, it’s always gotten you into hot water with the wrong people.

You know when someone is lying. Don’t ask how. It’s a thing. But you know, without a shadow of a doubt, if what’s coming out of someone’s mouth is the God’s honest truth or total and utter bullshit.

You know when someone is lying and generally, folks don’t really appreciate it when you a) catch them on a lie and b) call them out on it. You and your big mouth.

Okay, that’s two things that get you into trouble, but it’s primarily the lying thing and the mouth thing is more or less a fun bonus. Used for good or evil, or whatever. 

The point – the point is – you know when someone is lying. Every single time. So, sure, the audience may say, it’s a weird quirk, kinda bizarre, may or may not be difficult to prove, but trouble? Real actual trouble? How could you possibly get into chimpanzee-face-eating trouble with just this little thing?

Well, rather easy actually. If you don’t have any particular skills, that is. If you barely finished high school, and street smarts was the only kind of smarts they were selling the day your mom smacked you on the ass and told you to find your way in the world. It was hard keeping a job too. Minimum wage living is terrible, especially when the customers lie to you, or to each other, or to their children. Even worse when management lies about why there’s no cash payout this month or why they’re late with this month’s checks. Getting by is fucking hard as shit, but when you know there’s something wrong being done and you’ve got this big fucking mouth, well, you’ve never been one to not court trouble. 

Maybe trouble is easier to find because you like to wave and flirt with it when you drive by. Give a little wink.

You work here, you work there. Nothing serious. Always temporary. And then, one day, during your shift as a maid at the Economy 99 on route 10, the elderly night guard asks if you’ve ever played poker. 

Nah, you say. Go Fish, that’s really your game. 

So he offers to teach you, along with a few of the other maids and staff waiting around for someone to blow chunks in the swimming pool because you always managed to find the really classy places. 

Okay, so you barely finished high school, you don’t have real marketable skills, you’ve got a big mouth and you’re not afraid to use it and –

– and –

You’re really fucking good at poker. 

And who here would like to venture a guess as to why?

You always know when someone is lying and what is poker if not Advance Bullshit for Adults? Fuckin’ Astronomical Physics for Liars and Dumbasses. Hell, you gotta fuckin’ PhD in Bovine Excrement and it’s time you graduated to the big leagues. Sayonara community college, hello Stanford for Assholes.

Okay, maybe that’s just regular Stanford. 

You learn to hustle too. Lose a few rounds so they don’t catch onto you and can’t accuse you of anything as you wipe their clocks clean. You change your name too, in different towns, in different back alley poker halls, because unfortunately the poker and casino community in this place is too small.

This place being all of the United States. 

You can’t exactly go online and work your literal magic– you gotta at least see or hear the person to know if they’re lying. Bluffing over pixels just isn’t the same. Isn’t sexy enough. 

So, with your big mouth and exceptional poker skills, you go hunting off the coast. It was an invite only poker tournament in Florida. You hadn’t managed to burn your ‘Marlene Green’ identify just yet and she was fucking crushing it up and down the east coast. You barely blinked at the ten grand buy-in– baby money, suckers ducks, little Tikes casino royale.

This was also the last one, you told yourself. One for all the marbles. 

Because the thing about disreputable poker halls, they tend to be filled with unpleasant, disreputable, very angry characters that, like a chimpanzee, will rip your face off and eat it if they think they’ve been cheated. 

Exit strategy. Mama always said you gotta have an exit strategy. Well, Mama said a lot of things and the actual literal exit strategy was Monterey Marina with a gorgeous trawler for sale. Older than shit, but damn that baby could purr. You were gonna take the money, offer up stone-cold cash (no questions asked), and sail off into the sunset. Or, well, sunrise because you were definitely getting the fuck out of Florida. 

But here it comes, the real kick in the goddamn teeth, the real screw in the rack. This is where your mouth and your talent– gift, power, is this a fucking superhero movie?– whatever– tended to get all mishmashed with one other thing that always– and you mean always– got you in the hot seat. Got you in Trouble, with a capital T, that rhymes with P and stands for pool hall – breathing down your neck. 

You alway had shitdumb, bad, fucking luck. 

So it’s not some lowtime, grumpy townies you piss off when you win the pot, it turns out its members of a goddamn drug cartel! And they are PISSED.

P-I-S-S-E-D

You don’t wanna ask the barrel of their guns if they’re going to kill you because you don’t actually want to be sure of their answer, so you’ve got your hands up, thinking this is definitely it– I’ve played my last hand, I’ve sunk my last boat, I’ve cursed my last fuck– when police sirens go off. It’s not a relief, but a distraction.

You’ve got a big mouth, wacky abilities, and reflexes like someone who’s been running their whole life. You smash a bottle against the back of the head of the blonde one closest to you, flip the table– chips and bullets go flying– and with the case holding the winnings still in your hands, you sprint out the back door. 

To your lovely Chevy Camaro waiting for you. 

And you drive.

“And I drive and I drive and I drive, all the way down to this lovely little diner in . . .” 

You swivel on the red seat, nearly knocking over the five little plastic bottles of Crown Royal on the counter that is making your head thick and puffy. You squint at the sign that boasts the best burgers in – “Texas, yes, thank you, Texas! Lone Star State. The most hated state, of all fifty of them, for Wile E Coyote. His nemesis. His haunting. His apocalypse now . . .” 

The man seated next to you, the same man who’s been there for an hour, quietly listening to you drunkenly ramble at the counter of Jim Bo’s Burger Barn, smirks. His mustache twitches.

“Why is it the Wile E Coyote’s least favorite state?”

Your mouth drops at him. You slouch as though indignant about his very question. “Roadrunner, duh, state bird of the Lone Star State. That and blue bonnets. I mean, the flower. Blue bonnets are the state bird and the road runner is the state flower of the Looney Star State . . . wait . . .”

He laughs, softly, his elbows under him as he leans forward on the counter, his brown jacket looking like it smells amazing. Drunker than you meant to be, you eye him from his classic cowboy boots, up his hips, and to the edges of that lovely brown jacket as it hangs around his waist. He has the prettiest eyes. 

“You were saying something about driving here?” He asks, very much aware of your shameless staring. “Do you still have that money?”

“Sure, sure,” you mutter and turn back to your chocolate milkshake that’s pretty much just chocolate soup at this point. You snatch up a remaining fry from your long gone burger and swirl it in the soup. “Got the keys and the money locked up tight. I worry more about someone fucking with my baby more than the money, you know. Lots of sentimental value in that car. ‘Is where I lost my virginity.”

At that, the man sputters on his coffee, his third of the night. Black, almost as dark as his hair. 

You sigh, frowning into your lumpy, ice-creamy soup. “So hard to get laid when you’re running for your life.” 

You swivel back to him as he’s patting his jacket dry of coffee. “Wait. You.”

“Me what?” You think his cheeks warm pink for a moment.

“What the hell are you doing out here at 3AM, listening to me babble endlessly? You don’t look shifty, but maybe you are.” 

He smirks again and tosses his napkins into the now empty coffee mug. 

“I’m Javi,” he says in a deep, soothing voice as he extends his hand across to you. You take it, with the proper amount of trepidation. “And I’m on my way to see my niece in Flagstaff.” 

You click your tongue and withdraw your hand, disappointed. “Bullshit.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“I mean, your name is definitely Javi.” You pick up your own coffee mug and see that it’s unfortunately empty. You pick out some fleck that’s fallen into it. “Well, almost – is that short for something? – but you are definitely not on your way to see your niece in Flagstaff. Does she not live in Flagstaff or . . . do you not even have a niece?” You gasp, mouth agape. He has the decency to look uneasy. His eyes narrow at you. You scoff. “That is fucked up, hombre. Starting off a conversation with a lie is not a good way to make a friend.” 

“Why do you think I’m lying?” 

You roll your eyes, the coffee cup dangling loosely in your fingers. “We’ve been over this, my dude. See the court documents. Jeez, how hard is it to order a refill at three in the morning? Paragraph B, Subsection I’m really fucking good at poker. I don’t think, I know. I have this thing, always had, and when people lie to me, I . . . wriggle. Squirm. Not exactly ‘spoiled lunch meat’ but not ‘just clocked a hottie from across the bar and I like their vibes’ either.” 

He watches as the waitress, glaring, comes over and refills your mug. You immediately dive into five packets of sugar, shredding them like a racoon with a bag of popcorn. 

“But I don’t take it too personally,” you continue, flicking the sugar packet to make sure every single crystal falls into the cup. “People lie all the time. About stupid shit too. I don’t think they even mean to do it. It just happens.”

“Does it bother you? That people lie?” 

“Eh. Once upon a time. But fuck, if you could hear the bullshit firehose that comes outta people’s mouths on the daily, you’d stop shaking it off too, if you know what I mean.” Satisfied that you’d be able to see through both time and space with your sugar high, you take a sip. Needs milk. You reach across his plate, wobbling on the edge of the seat, his chest inches from your forearm, and snag the little tin milk pitcher. Your cup becomes more milk than coffee. “People lie for the best of reasons, mostly. Or at least, best for them. Either to save hurting someone else's feelings or their own. We humans don’t like pain, generally, as a rule. But rules are meant to be broken, I suppose.”

Javi, or as close to his real name as you’re going to get, is quiet. That tends to be more of his natural state, given that he had barely said two words while you recounted the past few weeks to him whether he wanted it or not. You sip your coffee again, delighted to have found the right balance of sugar, milk, and burnt coffee, when he taps the rim of his mug with his nail. 

 “I do have a niece, but she lives in Austin. Haven’t seen her in a while, actually, but I want to.” 

“Oh, yeah?” That was all true. You bend forward, eyes trying to watch him as you sip the delicate, hovering brown line that threatens to spill over the edge of the cup. “What’s stopping you from seeing her?” 

“Work.” 

Well, that was fucking ominous. 

“Wait. Fuck. What do you do for a living?” 

Javi slides off the seat and turns those slim hips towards you and, like a fucking idiot, you just now register the bulk at his waist. 

You whimper. Of course the one nice person who wanted to spare you a second glance was from the cartel. They found you. Somehow they tracked you down to the middle of nowhere, which was exactly what you wanted when you still had your life ahead of you. But now it seemed like a terrible fucking idea because there was no one around to at least make sure Baby Girl Camaro went to a good home. 

“Ah, fuck. Fuck! That’s a gun. Fuck, you’re gonna kill me right here in this goddamn diner,” you whine and put your head on the counter, hands covering the back as if you were preparing for a tornado. 

He sighs. “I’m not going to kill you.” 

Truth. 

“Then what do you want with me?” You glare at him, bleary-eyed. “Because the whole cover as a kindly stranger with baby cow eyes is officially fucking blown, my guy.” 

“Let’s go outside and – wait, what? Baby cow eyes? What the hell does that mean?” 

“What? You’ve never watched Dr. Pole? TV veterinarian?” You unwind from your prone position and frown at him. “He takes care of those little baby cows, lookin’ up at their mama with those big, sweet, gentle, loving brown eyes. Cutest thing in the world. Almost made me wanna give up beef for a whole two minutes. But seriously, dude, there’s this hamburger joint in Miami that makes you just wanna lick the juices right off your fingers– hey!” 

He grabs you by the upper arms and, as casually as a kidnapping can go, hauls you out of the diner. The bell above the door rings joyfully as he pulls you through. 

The reality of your situation hits you like a sixteen-wheeler truck and tears spring up in your eyes as panic bites into your spine. His grip is like iron around your bicep. 

“Dude, I’m so sorry I rambled on like that but I swear I didn’t know who you were. Please, please don’t kill me – o-o-or hurt me. Please don’t take me back to the cartel. You can have the money, I swear, j-j-just take it–,”

His eyes widen and immediately lets you go. The neon sign and lights of the diner behind him blur his face in shadow. You wipe at your eyes. 

“Lady, look, if you’re gonna survive on the run from the Cali Cartel, you can’t be telling your whole life story to anyone who asks.” He’s got his hands on his hips as if disappointed with you. You pout with your bottom lip out.

“Wasn’t telling just anyone. Was telling you.” You cross your arms and sniff, suddenly rather embarrassed to be crying in front of a man so genuinely hot it makes you go a little cross-eyed. Well, it was either him or the whiskey. TBD. “Not that I’m encouraging you or anything, but if you don’t kill me, aren’t your cartel bosses gonna be pissed?” 

“I don’t work for the cartel. I work for the DEA.” 

If crying was embarrassing, you are going to be fucking traumatized if you puked all over his cowboy boots.

“Aw shit. Shitshitshitshitshit.” You press your knuckles into your eyes, groaning. You wander backwards. Your head starts to spin and so do you. “The fucking government is after me? Holy shit, this is not good.” 

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

You frown and spin back around. He looks exasperated. 

“Well, how many words does it take to read me my Miranda rights?” You tick off the words on your fingers as you speak them aloud. “You. Have. The. Right. To. Remain. Silent. Anything – is that one word or two? – You. Say–,”

“Jesus Christ–,” He claps his wide hand over yours, squishing your tally between his palms. “Are you always like this or just because you’re drunk?” 

“I’m a delight, pal, okay?” You scowl up at him. “I am a barrel full of monkeys at all times. I am a waterslide with chocolate and whipped cream, okay? I am a–,”

His hands leap to your shoulders. His touch is gentle like he knows he shouldn’t scare you but he’s considering throwing you into oncoming traffic. 

“Just . . . show me the case of money you stole,” he begs with his baby cow eyes, “alright? Let’s start there.”

Your eyes narrow at him. “If I do, what’s to keep you from knocking me out and throwing me in the trunk?” 

“I’m not going to do that.”

No tingle. You purse your lips and wiggle out from under his palms. “Say it. Say, I’m not going to knock you out and throw you in the trunk and steal all of your money.” 

“It’s not exactly your money, is it?”

“Say it!”

“Fine!” He says, throwing his hands in the air. “I’m not going to knock you out and throw you in the trunk and steal all of your money.” 

Still nothing. No tingle. Well, no tingle about him lying anyway. 

“You passed the test. Now come here.” 

Hesitantly, he nudges towards you, those thick eyebrows dipping down as if expecting you to pull a bazooka out of your bra.

“C’mere, c’mere. Good.” You clap a hand on his shoulder and lean into him. You shift your weight onto one leg and wiggle off your other boot. You get a whiff of his cologne – dark, woodsy, a little too much, as if to cover for a lack of deodorant. “Now, as you so annoyingly identified earlier, I have had a little, insy-tintsy bit to drink, and if I tried to take off my shoe by myself, I would, as the kids say, eat shit. And once you’ve fallen on your ass in front of one cop, you’ve fallen on your ass in front of them all.”

His warm hands find your waist, steadying you, just as you pop your heel out of your boot. “I’m not a cop,” he grumbles.

“And I’m not a walking lie detector.” You shake your boot and your car keys tinkle as they hit the dirt. “Ah, ha! Got ‘em.”

You shake them in front of his baby cow eyes, grinning, before spinning back to your car and popping the trunk, hopping as you went to slide your boot back on. 

“Do you work out?” You ask as he rounds the edge. Half of you is buried in the trunk, feet in the air. 

“Uh, yeah, when I can. Why?”

“What do you bench?”

“256. Why?” 

“Oh, then this should be easy for you.”

You groan, struggling with something and he dives to help you – and his knees buckle. 

“Why the hell do you have a tire for a sixteen wheeler in your trunk?”

“Same reason you’re sweating, toots. Heavy as fuck and hard to move. But now that we have . . .”

You pull out a slim silver case. You pop the handles and sigh.

You haven’t moved a single bill since that night. You haven’t even breathed on it, as if doing so would set off a series of alarms, bells, and whistles.

“So small for so much trouble,” you whisper as he crowds in next to you. “Fifty thousand dollars. Make or break a life. Well, at least, a life like mine.” 

Javi makes a face. “Should be one hundred, but those fuckers switched it out.” 

“Wait, how do you know that?” 

He sighs and slams the lid of the trunk shut. You snatch up the case before he does and hold it tight to your chest. Javi stands there for a moment, with his hand on Baby’s trunk, head down, thinking.

“Look, I want to help you . . . and I can. But you’ve gotta start being honest with me. How did you really get into that poker game?”

“What do you mean?”

He crosses his arms, frowning. “That little party trick you do. The human lie detector thing. What is it? How did you know Veracruz had that shit hand?”

“Uh, because I asked him and he said he didn’t have a shit hand, and I knew he was lying.” 

“Yeah, that. How did you know he was lying?”

“I just did.”

“Bullshit.” 

“That’s my line!” You glare up at him, very much aware of his height and very much aware how hot he is. “I’m not lying to you. I just know when people are lying. If you believe it, I’ll know.” 

Javi rolls his eyes. “That’s not a real thing people can do. Have you done forensic work before? Studied body language somewhere?” 

You scoff and step back, showing off your black fringe vest, dirty jeans, and combat boots. “Do I look like I’ve studied anything anywhere ever? Where would I even have gotten the money to go study somewhere? Oh right, the forensic fairy, just beating the shit outta people with a bag of cash.” 

He puts his hands on his hips and you match him because you can do the scary cop thing too. It’s not that hard. 

“I broke my arm when I was seven on a bike ride.” 

“True.” 

“I had a dog named Benji.” 

“Dog’s right, but not named Benji.” You grin, rubbing your hands together, then putting them on your thighs. “C’mon, gimme something you’ve never told anyone. This is exciting. Your mustache does this little twitch thing when I’m right.” 

“When I was twelve, I cheated off my friend’s math test.” 

You frown, dropping your shoulders. “That’s your big secret? Whoof, buddy, and here I thought the big scary man gunning for me was mean and lean, when he’s actually just an All-American—,”

“I need your help to arrest the men who are trying to kill you.” 

Your mouth snaps shut so fast your teeth click.

“That’s what all of this is about.” He crosses his arms and leans against Baby. “Aren’t you curious how I found you so fast? Faster than the cartel who's been on your ass for two weeks now?” 

“I’d like to think it was just kismet that we found each other,” you grumble. “Serendipity. Movie magic. Lady Luck doing me a fuckin’ solid for once.”

“That case has a tracker in it. We had a plant in that game who was supposed to win, but not before he could distribute the cash out in the pot. We’d be able to follow them back to their stashes and track their movements.” He bit his lip, disapprovingly. “And then you showed up. Cleaned their fucking clocks like it was nothing. Had their goddamn numbers from minute one and none of us could figure it out. Steve was probably relieved when you knocked him out with that bottle.”

“Oh, shit, the blonde was your partner?” You grimace. “My bad, dude, my bad. Is he, uh, okay?”

Javi nods, eyes distant, as if subtly trying to work something out in his brain. Like testing to see if you could read minds or something. “He’ll be fine. His wife Connie is thrilled to have him home for a few weeks.” 

“Ah. And that means you pulled the shit straw to go after the girl who ran off with all your government money . . .” It was finally all coming together. “Shit, should I add your wife to the list of people I’ve pissed off? I can’t imagine she’s thrilled about any of this.”

His jaw works, as if he was chewing on something, eyes dark, before he pulls a packet of cigarettes out of the pocket of his jacket. He holds one out to you.

You stay where you are, hesitant. 

“C’mon, don’t tell me you’re not a smoker.” He spins an unlit cigarette between his fingers. “I don’t bite.”

You scowl and trudge forward. You snatch the cigarette from his thick fingers and wait your turn for the lighter.

“What gave it away? I haven’t had a smoke in hours.” 

The shadow of the flame flickered in his palm as he held out the lighter close to your lips, his hand blocking the wind. His brown eyes looked black in the absence of light. 

“Chain-smoking and playing poker with idiots is a combo deal. Two vices for the price of one.”

“Ha. Ha.”

You match his lean against Baby’s trunk, the pair of you watching the occasional car or truck go by on the interstate in the distance. The paper crinkles when you suck in the smoke. God, there really is nothing like the first bite of a cigarette. 

“So, what’s the play here?” You ask, after a moment. “You have the money. Why do you need me?” 

“You won’t have to worry about kindly strangers with baby cow eyes for starters.” You scowl at him. Maybe it’s the orange light of the flame, but you swear you see a twinkle in his eyes. “But you tell me. You seem smart. What would the government want with you?”

He likes a chase, you realize. He likes to play, to tease. He likes to be in control. Something inside you knots up, threatening goosebumps on your skin, but you shake it back. Down, girl. 

You take a sip from your cigarette, thinking. 

There is nothing else around except the highway and this diner. Seemed like such a good idea at the time. Who’d ever find your ass all the way out here? You lick the bottom of your lip before pulling it between your teeth.

“I’m your only witness to the mountains of coke being produced out in the open when they brought us in. Everyone else at that table was cartel or DEA. You want me to testify. 

He nods slowly. If he was impressed, he didn’t show it.

“We didn’t know who the hell you were when you showed up and planned to arrest you before everything went tits up.” He taps the ash onto the gray dirt and you watch his fingers. “If you do this, you’re out from under the cartel. We can give you a new identity, and you can start grifting again across America. All of this’ll be a bad dream.”

He flicks the butt of his cigarette into the dark, just at the edge of the light from the neon sign. You follow suit a second later. The keys to Baby are still in your pocket. 

“And if I don’t? If I don’t do this, then what?” 

His answer is a single arched eyebrow.

You dart to the left, trying to get around him, but he’s there first, arms outstretched like he’s guarding a goal. He frowns at you. Seriously? 

You lunge again, this time to the right, and he’s again in front. 

Your brow sweating, you hook your foot onto Baby’s trunk, desperately trying to scramble over the top. You get about halfway up before those annoyingly large hands snatch you around the waist and haul you off the car.

“Would you stop it?” He plops you down between his solid chest and the car door. This close to him, air temporarily leaves your lungs. “I’m being honest when I say I’m here to help you.” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“Am I lying?” Again, that beautiful eyebrow of disapproval. 

“No, but I’ve officially decided you’re shifty.” 

He shakes his head and steps back, allowing blood flow to return to your brain. 

“Is this what you want for your life? Driving from small town to small town, picking up bullshit jobs, sleeping in shit beds, when there’s so much more you could do? You’re smart, resourceful, funny, weirdly agile . . . but you wanna spend your life hiding from the world.” 

There’s something hot and sharp in your throat.

“It’s what I’m good at,” you croak. 

His expression softens. The gravel crackles beneath his boots as he comes closer. Javi, the DEA officer, has temporarily left the building. In his place, this Javi is smoothed out, dulled, not all jagged edges and razor burns. Maybe tastes sweeter than day-old coffee and stale cigarettes. You want to tell him there’s nothing wrong with either– you happily take both– but seeing him unguarded, even for a moment, threatens to topple you over. There’s a light in his eyes when he takes in your face. Your eyes. Your nose. Your mouth. 

He looks . . . hopeful. 

One hesitant finger brushes away a stray strand of hair from your forehead.

Do not tremble. Do not tremble. Do not do it, I swear, ladies, keep it together!

“I bet you are,” he says softly. Jesus Christ, his hands are so big up close. “I bet you are good at a lot of things. You seem like the type who could genuinely surprise me. And I think you might surprise yourself one day.” 

You grimace, deeply, deeply regretful. 

“Yeah,” you mutter glumly. “I do surprise people a lot, actually. Unfortunately, you didn’t seem to be listening.”

“Wha–,”

From your other pocket in your vest, you yank out a one-time-use stun gun and stab his thigh through his jeans. Fifty-thousand volts lights up his entire body, arched, and tensed, before the grown man collapses at your feet. 

Unconscious, Javi hits the ground so hard you squeal, landing on his face and no doubt earning a nasty bruise. 

“Exit strategy, dude! Always gotta have an exit strategy. But I’m so, so sorry!” Grabbing his deadweight shoulder, you roll him onto his back and try to get him in a comfortable position. There’s dust in his mustache. .You fold his hands onto his chest like he was casually napping. 

Then because you were in fact the nicest or stupidest person on the planet, you dig your arms under his and pull him out of the parking lot. It would be a true sin if he got run over and anything happened to that beautiful face. Huffing, you drop him off by the bike rack. “I’m sorry. You are so gorgeous but I gotta get outta here and I can’t have you following me. This hurts me way more than it hurts you.”

You bend down and rifle through his jacket. You find what you’re looking for and take his phone out of his pocket. Old, probably a burner. With a shake, you crack off the battery and throw it on the ground. The crunch is loud beneath your heel. That should give you some more time. Can’t haul you back to HeadQuarters if he can’t call them.

This close to him, you can see the bags beneath his eyes. You remember he didn’t eat the entire time he sat with you in the diner. He didn’t respond to your question about a wife. Guilt clangs into your ribs. Slowly, you loosely brush your fingers through his hair. It’s soft, curls around his neck and ears. He looks like he needs sleep. 

You had been blasting across state lines, hardly eating, barely sleeping, restless and fearful. Maybe he had been too.  

“God, I am such a fucking idiot.” You grimace as you see a ripe purple bump growing on his cheek. “I am so sorry and I am so going to hell for this.”

Over the road to the highway, the dawn rises, purple and pink and heavy.

Baby purrs, when you start the engine, welcoming and warm. Where to today, Mama?

Jim Croce’s twang eases out of the radio as you adjust your mirror and see his long legs still out by the concrete. Somebody would find him soon enough.

Uptown got its hustlers

The bowery got it's bums

42nd street got big Jim Walker

He's a pool shootin' son of a gun

Yeah, he big and dumb as a man can come

But he stronger than a country hoss

You shake your head, guilt gnawing at your gut. Baby roars as you pull out onto the road and up onto the highway. Into the burning dawn.

What was it that he said? 

And when the bad folks all get together at night

You know they all call big Jim boss, just because

He called you funny. Resourceful. Full of potential. And smart. He thought you were smart.

Liar, liar. 

And they say

You don't tug on superman's cape

You don't spit into the wind

You don't pull the mask off that old lone ranger

And you don't mess around with Jim

#trying to get back into the flow of writing frequently if not just for one fic #javier peña #javier pena fic #javier pena one shot #javier pena x y/n #javier peña x y/n #javier peña x reader #javier peña x ofc #narcos #narcos netflix #also gonna tag this as #poker face #because more people need to see that damn show #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters