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stevieschrodinger · 2 months

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TW for Eddie getting hurt (but he's okay). And Human Trafficking.

Link to part Two

Steve leans against Carol's desk, "here are your messages, I fobbed off the Times interview - they're going to email you their questions instead." He's listening to Carol, but he's watching, frowning.

There's a man in his office.

"Lunch call with the Singapore office is on. Your suite for the gala is back from the dry cleaners, it's in your bathroom."

"Right, the gala," Steve answers absently. It's a corner office, lots of glass, so it's impossible to miss the man in his office. The man who is calmly, right now, looking at the framed photo Steve has of his parents. It's basically a prop, Steve never got on with them, but that is not the point. Some random guy is touching Steve's shit.

"And my nine thirty?"

"Had to move it, don't worry, they were fine about it."

"Right," Carol's leaning over the desk now, watching the man right along with Steve, "I assume that's why you had to cancel my nine thirty."

"Uh hu," she's tapping her nails on the top of the desk, and she's so fucking infuriating, if she wasn't so fucking good at her job Steve would have booted her years ago.

"You're going to make me ask aren't you??

Carol gives him a massive shit eating grin, "ask what, sir?"

"Jesus fucking christ," Steve sighs, "who is that in my office."

"Not sure," Carol shrugs, grinning because she's pleased she's being such a dick, "security brought him up," she leans over the desk, whispering like she's imparting a secret, "pretty sure they said something that sounded like FBI."

And then she sits down, tapping at her computer and painting her nails or doing whatever it is she does all day. Harassing mail boys, probably. God she's like a fucking shark, but that what Steve gets, he wanted a competent secretary, what he got was a fucking guard dog.

Steve's not complaining. He'd been weary of hiring a female Alpha and then shoving her behind a desk, but it turns out Carol is terrifyingly efficient and fucking fearless, so it's kind of a win win.

Steve stares at the man in his office for a second longer, trying to figure out what the fuck he's done. he wonders if he's somehow accidentally committed major tax fraud, or something. He's pretty sure he hasn't, but the panic spiral is sitting there, looking inviting, anyway.

Steve goes into his office, and the man turns. He's tall, well built, kind of portly with age, maybe, but Steve still wouldn't fuck with the guy. He's not wearing blockers of any sort, so Steve's office now smells of strange, uninvited, Alpha. Great.

"Jim Hopper," he says, extending his hand, "FBI."

"Steve Harrington," Steve replies, even though he's certain it's pointless, this guy knows exactly who he is.

The guy is already producing paperwork as Steve takes his seat on the other side of his desk, "standard non disclosure, Mr. Harrington."

Steve gives it a once over, he's signed enough of these, and been involved with the legal team enough, that he feels confident enough. He signs it, knowing he won't get any answers until he does.

"I'll get right to it, time is tight. I've been working to dismantle an Omega trade ring for nearly eighteen months now. We're almost ready to move, teams are in place, inks drying on the warrants, cells are all picked out."

Steve nods, okay. He knew Omega trade was a thing, a barbaric, highly illegal thing. Human trafficking of the worst form, he gestures for Hopper to continue.

"If we go in now, we will likely get a few of the higher ups, we'll rescue approximately two dozen Omega, it'll be a success." Steve goes to speak, wondering what the fuck this has to do with him, Hopper waves him down, "we've been here before; I've made this mistake once before. If we don't get the people at the top, this thing will grow back in a years time. I want them all."

Steve gets that. His head is spinning a little. He knows things like this go on, you see about it on the news, but it does sound a bit...like a spy movie.

Hopper puts a photograph on Steve's desk, "you know this man?"

And Steve does. They're not what Steve would call friends; more of a good tempered rivalry. And yeah, Steve had Daddy's money, but Tommy had his Daddy's company. They came up at the same time, went after the same deals. Move in the same circles, Steve's known him for years. Steve's disliked him for years, "you're not suggesting Tommy Hagan is...the head of some sort of, human slavery outfit?" Knowing how ruthless Tommy can be, how questionable his methods are...Steve's still struggling to see him as...this.

"I'm not suggesting it. I'm telling you as fact. You've known him a long time, and we have to move fast. The charity gala tonight, you'll both be there."

"Right, sure, but I don't exactly see what I can do about this."

"Hagan moves the...high end product. Very exclusive, very expensive. They keep them at a ranch, just out of state," and that's kind of uncomfortable, because Steve's been to the ranch for a business lunch, so he knows exactly the place Hopper is talking about. And, jesus, Steve had thought at the time Tommy had a lot of Omega staff. A lot of really well behaved Omega staff - at the time, Steve thought Tommy was just being his usual dick self. Just showing off wealth. Fuck, if some of those Omega were actually, like, prisoners- "drop a hint to Hagan, tonight. Tell him you're getting itchy, fancy yourself an Omega. A traditional one, timid. Say whatever you need to say, get yourself an invite out there."

Steve takes a deep breath, nodding. He can do that. He can play that; he might have to wear blockers, his opinion of Tommy is in the gutter on a good day, never-mind this.

"That's all you need?"

Hopper shifts forward in his chair, "look, you're ideal. On the periphery, you've known each other a long time, but not well. He knows exactly the kind of clout you have, your bank balance, you're the perfect person to do this."

It's not hard to find information on Steve Harrington, he's thirty first on the Forbes 100 list, but clearly Hopper, at the very least, has taken notice.

"How do you know I'm not already involved?"

Hopper snorts, "kid. We know. Also, you just asked me that question, and your balls ain't that brassy."

Steve can't deny it, he shrugs, "so, what else?"

"Get an invite. Go there wearing a wire. Meet Tommy, pick an Omega. You'll be trusted; we will fit a listening device. Hagan's wriggled out of this sort of thing before; evidence like that, there'll be no court in the country that won't convict him."

Steve feels awkward. He knows there's a device on him somewhere; Hopper had taken his phone for ten minutes, and brought it back with a different suit jacket for him to wear.

That had been at half five this morning, standing on Steve's back porch. And as he pulls into the ranch, he has the air con on full blast because fucking hell, he's sweaty when he's nervous.

Hopper had made this sound easy; the ranch is pretty safe. Only a couple of armed guards. Plus, he's Steve Harrington; you can't just disappear a guy like Steve.

Hopper had sounded so certain, the cherry of his cigarette bright in the pre dawn mist. He'd even slapped Steve's shoulder, told him he was saving lives. Steve had felt like a fucking super hero for about twenty minutes, until reality and fucking nerves had swamped him.

But here he is, walking up the front steps to the ranch house, Tommy Hagan grinning big, "hope you brought the black card," Tommy jokes as they bro hug.

Because that's not creepy.

Tommy had given Steve a smirk at the Gala last night, was confident he had exactly what Steve was looking for. Knew, for the right price, exactly what would scratch Steve's itch. Not like he was talking about real fucking human beings or anything.

Steve's real glad he went thick on the blockers; he's certain Tommy would be choking on the scent of his disgust by now.

They bring them in during lunch. Steve sitting, eating fucking cornbread and home made slaw and he just can't. He nibbles, feeling sick with nerves. Tommy doesn't even seem to notice. Steve can't help but stare at him, someone he's known most of his life and now...he's been revealed as something vile and subhuman. Steve has to work hard to keep the disgust off his face.

Something that gets even more difficult when the Omega are brought it and lined up, all wearing the same diaphanous nightdresses regardless of gender. Every single one of them could be a contender for the most beautiful thing Steve's ever seen. Every single one of them could be a model, or something.

They're lined up in height order; the last one in, the tallest, a male Omega. He's limping.

He's leaving bloody footprints on the fancy parquet flooring.

Tommy must catch Steve's face, "the unruly ones need to be disciplined, and that one is more...difficult than most. Refuses to learn. And we don't want to damage the product anywhere that'll be visible, obviously."

Steve has to breathe through his nose so he doesn't throw up. All the Omega are wearing blockers; probably because the scent of Omega distress would be so off putting.

Tommy waves a hand, "get him out of here, he's bleeding on the rug," and the Omega winces, as he turns. he's got lots of shiny dark curls. Everything about all the Omega is pristine, perfectly maintained hair, nails, flawless skin. The smear of blood on his ankle is even more stark for it, and Steve can't help but stare as the Omega gamely takes what looks like a very painful, shuffling step away again.

"Him," Steve says before he can stop himself, "I want him."

The Omega turns back, looking at Steve with huge, beautiful brown eyes. He's hopeful and fearful all at once, and it tears Steve up inside. He wants to buy all of them, get all of them out of here, but knows he can't. If he does anything to raise suspicion he could fuck the whole thing.

At least he has Hopper's word that the rest of them will be out of here by the end of today.

Tommy scoffs, "Steve, come on, have a proper look. Don't pick that one. Get a pretty one."

Steve wants to swear at Tommy because they're all fucking pretty, ridiculously so, "no, he'll do."

"Oh," Tommy laughs, "I get it, just gonna' wreck him anyway, right? That's fair, can always get another," and he's laughing again and suddenly Steve is dragged into a very detailed conversation about how to move funds - from where and to where, which Steve does. It's an amount of money that under any other circumstances would make Steve's eyes water - but in the face of a human being in pain, Steve doesn't even blink.

It doesn't feel like Steve takes a breath until he's on the interstate, the Omega curled up on the seat next to him. No possessions, no clothes, no bag.

Nothing.

And that had gutted Steve as much as anything else.

"Look, uh, hey, you have a name?"

"Eddie," the Omega answers quietly.

"Right. Eddie. So. This is...well it's going to sound a bit wild but...I'm kind of here for the FBI. I mean. I don't work for them, or anything, but...I was...asked, I guess, to get evidence. So don't worry about everyone else, they're getting rescued later so. That's. A thing, I guess?"

Eddie's just blinking at him.

"Yea. Yeah, I guess that's a lot to take in. But we can talk about it...later? Do you have family? Like, shit, do you have somewhere to go? I'm pretty sure I wasn't supposed to actually like...buy, a person. Couldn't leave you there though."

"I've...I've got an uncle. Haven't seen him for years. I don't...know."

"Right, right okay. We can talk to Hopper about it," Steve spots a drive through, "you hungry?"

Eddie turns and sees the McDonald's, "oh fuck me yes," he breathes with such vehemence that Steve laughs, "I haven't left the ranch for two years, and they never let us eat anything like that, it's bad for our skin. Plus, we have to stay thin and pretty."

That kills Steve's laughter stone dead.

Hopper rubs at his forehead, "you were not supposed to buy a human being."

"I know but-" Steve turns, Eddie standing behind him, which on it's own makes Steve wince. Eddie's barefoot on the asphalt, half hidden behind Steve, still wearing nothing but that scrap of white fabric. It's now a little smeared with the fry grease Eddie had shamelessly wiped off his fingers. Steve hands over his phone and the suite jacket.

Hopper waves him off, "you did good."

Hopper does something to the back of Steve's phone, peeling something away from it, before giving it back, "somewhere I can take you kid? Any family?"

"I only have an uncle, but I don't...it's been years, I haven't seen him since I was little."

Hopper rubs is hand over his face, the rasp of stubble loud, before he lights another cigarette, "I'll have to find you a motel somewhere while we figure this out."

"He can stay with me." Steve's volunteering before he can really think it though, "I've got...a lot of space," he trails off. He did just rescue this Omega after all, he's not just going to abandon him to be alone somewhere. Somewhere that might not even be safe for a lone Omega.

Hopper raises an eyebrow at Eddie, Eddie shrugs, "not like I've had any better offers lately."

Hopper snorts, but he hands over a business card, "this is highly unorthodox, but...I don't care. I've got bigger things to worry about. Text me any details the kid can give you on the uncle. I'll be in touch."

And then Hopper just...drives away. It's maybe an hour and a half drive back from here, since Steve had to go out of his way for this clandestine meeting in an abandoned car lot.

"So is there anything you...want? Need?"

Eddie seems to think about it for a second, plucking at his nightshirt, "I mean, I don't have any cash, obviously, and I heard how much money you shelled out- I mean, do you think you can comp me from the FBI? Man, you didn't even get a receipt for me."

Steve starts laughing first, then Eddie joins in.

At Eddie's request they get milkshakes on the way home.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #ao3 writer #ficlet #ao3 author #pre getting together #pre steddie #alpha steve harrington #omega eddie munson #omega eddie munson because he's so pretty #long suffering hopper #jim hopper #fbi agent jim hopper

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honeykaes · 4 months

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inside/out

wriothesley x convict!reader II 2.6k

warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact, afab!reader with no set pronouns, convict!reader, fingering, squirting, marking, biting, piercings, rough sex, hate sex, office sex, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, creampie, you and wriothesley are exes, angst, degradation, domestic disputes, set in fontaine before the traveler comes, fontaine plot points references, discussions of legal systems and injustice, mention of drugs, discussion of murder, open ending for interpretation, unedited

synopsis: you swore that you would leave the fortress of meropide when your sentence was done. And when you do, your relationship with wriothesley sours as your two break up. Five years later, you're shocked to end up right back in the iron prison where he’s there waiting for you.

The world seemed so distant to you. The whispering throughout sounded as if it were an untuned violin as they lapped up the drama they so desperately craved in their lives. The Oratrice Mécanique D'analyse Cardinale clicked in the irritating orchestra about to come up with its verdict.

The lawyer next to you fumbled with his papers with a look of shame and defeat in his eyes. Out of everyone in this room, you felt for him. He would surely bounce back with the next chum in your position.

The loud smacking of a cane caused the whispering to dissipate as you finally lifted your head up to witness the Iudeux of Fontaine.His eyes seemed heavy with sorrow. This wasn’t the first time you had witnessed this expression directed at you. Your eyes flickered to your God, Furina yawning as she whispered something to herself in her boredom.

You can’t help feeling irked at her expression; at all of their expressions.

Why were these people allowed to judge you?

The only answer you could find was justice was only for the privileged lucky, and you clearly had run out of it.

The contraption glowed, as Neuvillette collected your sentence.

“Under Article D of the Fontainian Code of Law, you are found guilty of fraud. Under Article J of Fontainian Law, you are found guilty of tax evasion…” he rambled on as you bit your lip.

It seemed that the rumors were right, after all. Most people who come out of the Fortress of Meropide find themselves right back in.

”And finally you are guilty of 1st degree murder of your former business partner, Henry Maugham. As a result, you will be serving a life sentence at the Fortress of Meropide,” Neuvillette announced.

You couldn’t help chuckling, covering your mouth from the cruel smile on your face. The whispering sparked once more, heavy eyes judging every movement you made. You finally lifted your hand away, smiling at the judge, but your eyes remained cold on Neuvillette’s somber ones

”Glad to see you never change, Monsieur."

The Melusine officers escorted you down to the Meropide, with only a small sack of clothes you were allowed to bring. From the photos, to the pat downs, it all seemed nostalgic to you. How many familiar faces would you see? You assumed quite a few.

This underwater prison you desperately wanted to escape from in the past, would be your sole future.

Finally finished with orientation, you threw your sack on your assigned bed sitting down, looking down on the steel ground. With the bed squeaking, your roommates whisper, feeling the heavy air as they make their escape and let you have some space.

Just as you sigh, thankful to have the room briefly to yourself to process, credit coupons hovered in your view as you looked up to see a tiny girl. Her long ear twitched in anticipation, ruby eyes gleaming at you, but at the same time, held pity in them.

”It’s nice to see you again. I really thought I wouldn’t have the opportunity once you left five years ago,” she chimed, brushing a bit of her baby blue hair.You looked at the tickets trying to give it back to her silently but she puffed her cheeks and shook her head.

”No! Think about it like this; this is for all the birthdays I missed,” she reasoned. You sighed, moving to massage the headache threatening to form.

-”...Sigwienne…why are you here? I’m sorry but-”

”Don’t apologize!” she interrupted, ears slightly drooping. “I, of all people, knew how much you wanted to get out. I-I’m here because the Duke wanted to see you.”

”No.”

”Please! I thought you wouldn’t be mad at him anymore,” she pleaded as eyes blew wide, pleading.Your gaze grew more bitter:

“So he sent you to soften the blow or some shit,” you grunted. Sigwienne furrowed her eyebrows in disappointment before you clicked your tongue catching your mistake.

”Sorry…language. I know…” you muttered. Your eyes looked up to see a guard at the door, glaring down at you. It seems she was the nice “cop” and if you kept refusing her, he would get involved. You turn back to Sigwienne’s pleading gaze.

”Fine. Lead the way…” you grumbled getting up from your place. Sigwienne smiled, clasping her tiny hand with yours.

”Off we go then!”

The only solace Sigwienne gave was a timid smile, waving as the door to the Duke’s office closed, leaving you with a man you haven’t seen in five years.

Your former boyfriend. Honestly, the man you naively thought you’d have happily ever after with.

He took a sip of tea before sighing, throwing papers on his desk as he leaned into his chair that creaked from the shifting weight. His hair was the same, black with odd streaks of gray hair he always had. He had a few new piercings on his ears though.

”In all these years, I didn’t think I’d see your face again,” he murmured.Your jaw tense and eyes narrowed. His voice seemed as irritating as he’s ever been.

“You think I wanted you to see your sorry ass again, Wriothelsey?” you barked back. -He clicked his tongue, rolling his icy eyes.

“I can see you’re not over our breakup..” he grumbled, drumming his fingers on the desk. You crossed your eyes, looking down with him with all the defiance you could muster up.

”If that’s what you want to call you being a selfish prick, sure,” you replied back.Wriothesley's nostrils flared but he didn’t spout any insults back.

”I thought you said you wanted to change for the better,” he asked, grabbing a file and holding it up. Of course he knew everything. He knew the second you were preparing to dive down to the Meropide.

”I did and I was. As if I wanted to come down here again. You know that out of everyone! But, I forgot something, people are cruel. And now, I’m stuck here for the rest of my life,” you raised your hands out, proclaiming loudly.

”...Just like you wanted.”

”I did not want that and you know it!” he shouted. It seemed his temper had started to reflect out. Tension was thick in the air as you laughed.

”Oh, right. My mistake. No you wanted to stay in this shithole and be the king of it, how could I forget? Your heart only had room for one person—the Meropide— not me!”

He rose from his seat, face beginning to go red in anger.

”Don’t! I’m not playing this game with you! You know how much I loved you. I loved you so much but you knew there’s nothing out there for me.”

Nails dug in your palms hearing his response as your emotions were beginning to get to you.

“Well you would have made something with ME out there!” you yelled, tears beginning to weld in your eyes. You turned away, wiping your tears and shuttered. You felt embarrassed being right in the same position as you were when the two of you first broke up and crying in front of him again after years.

”...I wanted us to build a new life together. Our sentences finished at the same time. You could have left with me, but you didn’t,” you whispered, angrily wiping your face. Silence fell the both of you besides your occasional sniffle and his heavy footsteps walking closer to you.

-”...And I wanted us to build a new life together here. But I wasn’t going to stop you from getting out of the Meropide.”

A frustrated grunt ripped from you as you couldn’t hold your irritation anymore. You marched to him, glaring at his form towering over you.

To your surprise, he leaned down and kissed you. And shocking you both, you kissed him back with just as much fervor.

”Selfish. Blockheaded. Smug dick--” you stammered out among the heated kisses, claiming your lips with every second. Nibbling on your bottom lip, his tongue darted in your parted mouth as you threw your arms around his shoulder. His kiss was of the familiar taste of Earl Grey you remembered he was so fond of.

“Moody, Frustrating, Manipulative asshole,” he grunted back. Article after article of clothing, fell on the floor as you fell onto his couch with a plop. Your hands ran across his firm stomach and chest.You gasped feeling his large palm cup against your sex.

”Still wearing the same underwear I smuggled in for our anniversary. I see you’re still a cheapskate or are you just sentimental?” he grunted in your ear. His finger firmly brushed across your clit, pleasure soon beginning to reverberate throughout your lower form. You groan, hitting his toned thigh.

”Shut the fuck up!”

Wriothesley slid your panties down until they caught on your ankle as his fingers glided along the bare cunt. He rubbed your clit with his calloused thumb.

”I see you still have rough ass hands,” you chimed. Wriothesley rolled his eyes, before chuckling.

”Yet you can’t get enough of them as always” he shot back. Fingers slowly sank inside of you as you threw your head back. His digits curled and stretched you out, tenderly pumping at a decent pace as you squirmed under his touch.

His hips bucked slightly against your thigh where you could feel how hard his cock was, desperately pressed against his gray slacks.He hitched your legs over his broad shoulders as he nibbled your inner thighs—leaving a wake of discolored marks and soft bite marks.

”Fuck! Fuck!”you whined out, hands shooting out to pull his soft hair. Your legs caved in closer to his cheeks as he pumped his faster.

He leaned in, letting his tongue brush against your clit as it was the last thing to push you over. Back arched, fluid spraying from you as he continually lapped at your overstimulated cunt as the liquid made a mess of his face and the couch.

As your body fell, breath heavy from your high, his fingers pulled out of you—walls unconsciously tightening, wishing they would stay. Satisfied with your fucked out expression, he smirked wiping his hand with his chin from your fluids. You narrow your eyes at him, watching him swirl his tongue around cleaning his fingers that were coated in your essence.

”Your face, it’s pissing me off,” you grunted. Wriothesley briefly laughed. Your heart fluttered momentarily. You hated how much you missed it.

“Said the person who squirted on my face. Been a long time hasn’t it, hm?” he teased. You glared before his eyes softened to something genuine.

”..Yeah, me too.”

He sat on his couch, shifting his pants down as his cock slapped on his lower stomach

He stroked his length as it pulsated in his grip. Every once and a while, a wavering moan left his lips. It seemed he had a new piercing too.

A Prince Albert piercing, glinting from the light and precum budding at his flushed tip.You shifted your hips, contemplating if you should go to the next step of someone that was your ex, but seeing him shutter, muffling his mouth and hearing your name was the push you needed.

”Fuck I missed you inside of me,” you groaned, kissing him. You hovered over his cock lining yourself up before sinking down. His hands found their way to the globe of your ass, grabbing the mounds tightly before you managed to reach his hilt.

”Like old times…” he whispered out, hazy lust gazing over his eyes.

”Just like it…” you moaned.

His pace was relentless as you called out his name. His jaw was clenched, watching your slick dripped down your thighs and his cock as he continued to slam you down on it. Your whole body jumped, as his hips moved up to meet him pulling you down his cock.

”I missed you so fucking much. Your smile. Your voice…fuck your scent. I couldn’t sleep properly for months when you left.” he groaned.

”I-I couldn’t either…fuck! There! Right there!!” you yelled out. HIs cock continued to press against your soft walls, hitting the spot that caused your voice to reach higher and higher, stomach churning as you almost hit your release.

“ ‘Thesley,” you cried out, nails harpooning into his back as you brought him closer to you. Your body shuttered, walls quivering and tightening. He clenched his jaw, having a harder time bouncing you on his cock.

”...I still fucking love you!” Wriothesley grunted, sinking his teeth into your neck. With one final rough thrust— his hips faltered—as thick ropes of cup jet out and inside of you. He slowly thrusted, moving to try to nurse down his high.

You shifted your neck, leaning his chin up before you kissed him once more.

For a second, just for a second, it was like you never left him. That you two were still together.That you were in your early twenties, dumb and in love.

Wriothesley broke the kiss first as your fantasy was briefly shattered. His eyes were soft but clearly searching for something within yours.

“...You still never told me why you are back here,” he replied. You groaned, and rolled your eyes pushing his face away as he grunted. You rose from him, his cum and your slick drooling from your hole before you went to grab your panties and put them back on.

Wriothesley merely sighed, lifting his boxers and pants back on.

”...I was framed,” you admitted, putting your bra on. Just as Wriothesley was about to put his shirt on, he looked up in shock.

”What”

”Out there, I owned a small cute cafe. You know the one I always talked about based on a beloved classic, Les Aventures d’Alice au Pays des Merveilles,” you chuckled to yourself, recalling reading it to Sigwienne with Wriothesley at times.

“ I didn’t have funds. Who would fund an ex-convict, y’know. But I met Henry, the aristocrat who promised my dreams. I thought things were going well until I discovered he had used the business as a front to sell absinthe.” You looked down, finally buttoning your shirt on and looking at Wriothesley’s somber face.

“He tried to kill me, I killed him first.”

Wriothelsey briefly closed his eyes processing the information before buttoning his own shirt.

“..But you know this country more than anyone else. He had power after death, and I was pinned with the crime by his frustrated associates,” you whispered, adjusting your color to hide the marks you knew Wriothesley left.

“I can help. We can catch them and get you back--”

“There’s no point.” you sighed, but smiled. You chuckled humorlessly, walking to the door to his office. You clenched the handle, your back turned to hide your expression.

Your real expression.

”I guess I wasn’t meant to be out there after all."

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley smut #wriothesley imagines #wriothesley scenarios #gi smut #wriothesley angst

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cordeliawhohung · 5 months

Note

HIIIII I love your Mafia!Price Drabble and headcannons I was wondering if you have any ideas that involve Mr. John Price proposing to his gal or even mentioning having a wee baby :3

hi! thank you so much! i hope i'm understanding your ask correctly in that this is mafia!price you're wanting, so that's what i'm going to write on but if you were wanting captain price instead let me know and i can do another bit <3 i have too many thoughts in this pea sized brain anyway lmao also i decided to give you both the proposal and baby talk <3 (but the baby talk gets smutty cuz i'm feral)

warnings: fem!reader, mafia!price, head cannons mixed with drabbles, fluff and nsfw content, smut, mentions of pregnancy, mentions canon typical violence, hope i didn't miss anything (:

you can find more mafia!price in my masterlist <3

Proposing

The thing about Mr. John Price, is that he can get you anything in the world. He's sent you to lavish destinations for holidays, gotten you gifts that seem too expensive for a simple boyfriend to want to gift their partner; there wasn't a rock in the world he would refuse to move for you. So when he decided he wanted to make you his, to make his sweet girlfriend his wife, he finds himself stumped as to what to do in order to really make it stand out from everything else he's already done.

First, there's the ring. He had actually managed to obtain your ring size a few months into seeing one another. A dazzling necklace in a local jewelry store had managed to catch your attention, and he insisted that you go inside to check it out for yourself. While you were there, a ring that you claimed to be similar to your grandmothers had caught your attention, and the jeweler had taken it out for you to look at. You tried to put it on your middle finger, only for it to be too small, so you moved it over to the ring finger instead. It was beautiful, and in a style you kept gushing about. John snuck a glance at the tag, reading and memorizing the size and storing the information in the back of his mind. In the meantime, he bought you the necklace, of course. He ended up going to the same store in order to purchase the ring he wanted to propose to you with.

Then there's the location. Every idea that popped into his head didn't feel right. He was worried about trying too hard, about it feeling unnatural if he planned every single detail out, and yet feared that if he didn't plan enough it wouldn't be special enough. He was always a detail oriented man, and yet he felt as if he would drown in them.

So he lugged the ring around with him for months. Always hidden in his pocket, just out of sight, and yet he could feel it weighing heavier and heavier every day. His worry is something that you can pick up on. You feel it when you rub his shoulders in his office and attempt to melt away the knots in his muscles with your thumbs, you see it in the way he rubs his chin and stares off into space during meals.

John has always been honest with you, and so he made you very much aware of what he does for work before even attempting to pursue a relationship with you. And though he refuses to tell you any specifics in an attempt to keep you safe, you hear some of his men whispering about issues settling disputes with another syndicate. Fearing his stress comes from work, you insist on getting him out of the house. Though he suggests eating at the Greek place you enjoy in the city, or even spending the evening drinking away at one of his clubs (which is just a place for him to hide his tax fraud and money laundering "business"), you insist that you just want to go for a walk. And well, who is he to say no?

Darkness settled over the beach by the time you and John set foot on the shore, but the lights of the city emitted a golden glow that illuminated your face and had you looking as beautiful as ever. Salty water threatened to kiss your feet as you strolled along, and you felt John squeeze your hand while the two of you talked about anything that came to mind.

It was a sand dollar shell that caught your attention. A beautiful, round, and unbroken specimen that you nearly walked right over in the dim light. Fingers slipping out of John's hand, you stopped and bent down to pick it up, ogling over how pristine it was. You held it out, the item small in the palm of your hands as you pointed out each arm on the fossil.

Though you were enamored by the shell, John could only look at you. The way your eyes lit up, how you couldn't help but smile as you told him everything you knew about it, how you always seemed to find joy in even the smallest things. You were radiant, the only light he had in his life. Always smiling, always so kind to him despite how dirty his hands were from work. He didn't have a choice anymore, about being a bad man, but he had a choice when it came to you.

When you pulled away from him to wash the sand dollar off in the water, John found himself falling onto one knee. It was as if he wasn't in control of himself, like his body was telling him the time was right. Cold, damp sand seeped through the fabric of his pants, but he ignored it as he reached into his pocket and pulled out that small, velvet box that had been haunting his clothes for months. Despite all the bad things he had done in his life, he never found himself as nervous as he was in that moment.

Once you were certain all the sand had been washed off of your new possession, you turned around only to drop it to the ground in shock. John Price, the man who headed the most dangerous and effective mafia in the country, the man who always took care of you, who always stood tall and bowed to no one, was on one knee in front of you. The question in his eyes and stance was obvious, and yet you found your hand reaching up to cover your mouth.

"John?" you spoke, as if you were unsure of what he was doing.

He always promised himself he would never make you cry. Would never be the one to cause you any anguish or pain. So when he saw the tears starting to swell in your eyes, he couldn't ignore the way his stomach twisted.

"My whole life I've had whatever I've asked for given to me," he said, thumb brushing over the top of the box, "but I've never wanted something as badly as I want you."

His fingers gently flipped the top of the box open, revealing the dazzling ring you had looked at all that time ago; the one you told him reminded you of your grandmothers ring. A part of you couldn't believe he even remembered that moment, something that had seemed so insignificant at the time.

"I want to cherish you," John continued, "to care for you, to love you. To make you mine. Will you marry me?"

Your answer tumbled out of your mouth faster than you intended it to, nearly cutting the man off before he could fully get the question out.

"Yes!" you nearly sob, your own knees digging into the sand as you throw your arms around your now fiance's neck.

He wraps his arms around you in return, and his chuckle is low and rumbling and deliciously familiar in the way it vibrates through your chest. You can't wait to be able to feel that every single day for the rest of your life.

Baby Talk

Coming from a family born of violence, John was always a little scared to have children, but oh, did he crave being a father. More than that, he craved making you a mother.

But there were these worries that loomed over his head, terrified of dragging his children into the same life he was forced to live. So whenever he did mention children, he only ever sounded half serious.

"This room would make a nice nursery someday." "Maybe we could take our kids here someday, if we have some."

But you saw the look in his eyes. How his gaze lingered on a father playing football with his son in the park, how he chuckled at a young girl lecturing her father about something. Yet he never seriously sat down and talked about kids with you.

So you were the one who ended up really bringing the conversation up. Though, you didn't fully dive into it. Just simple little comments here and there. Ones that were more serious and promising than his own.

"John, look at these! Aren't they just adorable? I can't wait to dress our kids up in stuff like this." "Do you think we'll need a baby monitor? Might be a good idea if we set up a nursery, huh?" "Oh, I love this color. Do you think this would look good on the walls in the nursery?"

Half the time you spoke as if you already had kids or were pregnant, and your words left John's mind spinning. Torn between worry and want, his mind went back and forth between telling himself he shouldn't have kids, and giving into the desire to make you a mother.

And you certainly didn't make it easy on him:

John's cock always knew how to reach the deepest parts of you that turned your brain into nothing but mush. Legs thrown over his arms, he thrusted into you with such force he drew breathless moans from your mouth. His lips brushed against the side of your neck, breath hot and heavy against your skin as he grunted in effort.

Your hands pawed at his back, fingers digging into the rich muscle that covered his shoulder blades and neck. Sweat beaded in the dip of your throat just from the sheer intensity of it all; that burning feeling in your stomach, the tense muscles that shivered all throughout your body, and especially the words he grunted into your skin.

"So goddamn beautiful. Just can't get enough of you," he said, punctuating every word or so with a sharp snap of his hips that left you mewling.

When he was on the brink of his orgasm you could feel the neediness of his thrusts - the strained breaths against your ear - and you felt your cunt clench around him at the thought of him finishing inside of you. Before you knew it, your hands carefully danced across his skin until your palms enveloped his cheeks. You gently moved his head away from your neck, forcing him to look at you as he continued to push himself closer to the edge.

"I wanna give you a baby," you said breathlessly.

Never before had you seen your husband freeze so suddenly. His movements ceased as he buried himself so deep inside of you, you swore he was nudging against your cervix. The sensation ripped a tight moan out of your throat, but it didn't stop you from expressing your wants.

"Please, John, I want it so bad. Wanna be a mum so bad, wanna have your kid," you said, nearly begging. As you continued, you pulled him down until you were close enough to kiss him between words. "Please, let me do this for you, baby, I- fuck!"

John's thrusts continued with little warning, and they were just as passionate as they had been before, if not more. His lips silenced you as he smothered you with a kiss, and he ate up your moans like it was the only sustenance he would ever need.

"Yeah? Fuck darling, you don't know what you do to me," he muttered, voice strained with effort.

As he continued to pound into you, the sounds of skin on skin filling the room, all John could think about was you. You with a swollen stomach and breasts. He could imagine your giggle when you first feel your child kick, or laying in bed together rubbing your back when it ached too much. The thought of it all had him moving with a new sense of vigor, hellbent on filling you until there was no doubt at all that he'd make you a mother.

After all, whenever his wife wanted something, he would move heaven and earth to give it to her.

so i have a confession to make - in this previous mafia!price piece i wrote, i really wanted to put in wife!reader begging price to let her have his kid to thank him for all he does for her, but i wasn't sure if that was too feral so i left it out. but then i put it in here instead and, well yeah. anyway i hope you all have an amazing day, and merry christmas if you celebrate! <3

#captain price x reader #price x reader #cod smut #captain price smut #john price smut

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dreadful-windandrain · 2 months

Text

listened to the real will wood album three times yesterday. here are my thoughts:

am i being detaIIIIIIIIINED? am i under arrest?? (yes!)

"this is a song written by a dead guy" the implications..........

unsyncopate cotard's solution right this fucking second

the transition into dr sunshine lives is SO GOOD

was it when i left the cave and swore i'd. NEVER GO BACK!!!!!!!

how did he make white knuckle jerk hornier. what's with the moans. and why do i like it better than the original.

HEART BLUER THAN MY b-b-b-b-bbbbbaaaaa~a~LLLLLS!

the weird voices he uses in thermodynamic lawyer sure were a choice

fucking ADORE front street live. even better than the original and my favorite off of this album. literally just. the tempo changes. "if you're not on your worst behavior... get the fuck out!" "is this shit enough proof for you?" "give us all that fucking osmosis! oh, yeah!!" "sing it with me you fuckers!". he made a villian song sound even more evil. wtf and well done

i trusted you i trusted you i trusted you i trusted you i tru

the long ass intro for hand me my [x], i'm [y]! is fabulous. the anticipation!!!

the tempo is also faster here than the original which is awesome but overstimulating as hell when the second half of the bridge hits

take it away, creeps

here's a song *first chord of 2012*

by retracing myyyyyyyyyyyyyyy ste-epppppppppp pssssssssss

the guitar riff that starts mr capgras makes my brain perk up like a bluetooth speaker being connected

FUCKING HURT EACH OTHER! COME ON!!!!

yet another banger intro! the latter half of this album does not miss!

can we drop this shit? i wanna see you at each other's throats, man, make some fucking noise. one two three oh YEAAAAAAAH

the transition here also. magical.

i definitely didn't almost cry at the end of fibrodysplasia ossificans progressiva when the tempo slowed down and everyone was vocalizing

-ish is so fucking underrated oh my GOD you people don't talk about it enough

the people who sang "myself again" after "and i'm gonna be"...... read the room

the new harmonies on where do you get off, front street, and mr capgras give me life

overall i love it but i do believe that ww didn't sing the song with five names to spite me personally. he did sing it on in case i die but still. you don't know how much tax fraud i would commit to hear it live with a full band

#will wood #will wood and the tapeworms #wwattw #the real will wood #wii woo #wee woo #ren's rambles

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kooktrash · 1 year

Text

guys my age | jeon jungkook DRABBLE 18+

➣ pairings: dilf jk x female college student!y/n [she/her]

➣ genre/au: dilf au, best friends father, smut, age gap [38 & 21] flush

warnings: 2k words. smüt. pool smüt [ oral f & m receiving]

You know absolutely nothing about law, especially not the kind Jungkook works with. As a litigator his clientele consists mostly of large businesses filing copyright lawsuits, tax fraud, etc. it’s probably the most boring form of law but he gets paid big bucks for it.

You understood his work and how busy he could be so of course some weekends he still had to work. It kind of sucks when you come see him but you also understand it and try to stay out of his way when his case partner is over.

“Babe!” Jungkook called out from his office.

“Yeah?” You shouted back from the living room where you’ve been on your phone and watching TV. You’ve been lounging around pretty much all of Saturday in just a tiny pair of Jungkook’s plaid boxers and a short top looking like the definition of comfort.

“What are you thinking about for dinner?” He asked, walking into the entrance way of the living room with Namjoon right behind him. You assumed they were done for the weekend. You shrugged, resting your head on the back cushion of the couch as you looked at them two.

“Not hungry.”

Namjoon looked at Jungkook who just looked at him back, “I’ll get these filed and ready for Monday.”

“Alright,” Jungkook said walking Namjoon toward the door but stopped at the couch to be next to you as he watched his partner head the rest of the way toward the door.

“Bye Y/n,” Namjoon said with a clear of his throat, “Sorry for taking up so much time.”

You just waved goodbye and turned your attention back to the TV. Jungkook looked down at you waiting for you to say something, “You’re not hungry?”

“Not really,” you said looking down at your phone lazily.

He released a small sigh as he rounded the couch and sat down next to you. Without a word he picked you up and pulled you onto his lap despite your little whine in protest at being babied.

“You mad at me?”

He knows he works a lot and he just feels so bad. Last time he was able to drive to you for a few days but this time he begged you to come here for the weekend. Then he gets this huge workload that had to be done by Monday so he wasn’t even able to take you out yesterday or today.

Jieun’s mom cheated on him because he was always busy with work and he’s worried. He’s still scared that he’ll drive you away because of work and he doesn’t want that.

You laughed softly, running your fingers through his hair, “No? I’m just not hungry.”

“You sure?” He asked, “Sorry, I know I asked you to come this weekend and then I got all this work that had to be done and I’ve basically wasted your entire Saturday having you locked in here all day.”

You didn’t say anything, hand under his chin as you tilted his head up and placed your lips on his gently. He kissed back immediately letting his tongue swipe along your bottom lip deepening the kiss as you shifted on his lap.

Jungkook brought his hands down to your hips, moving you enough for you to get the hint and straddle him, “You’re always so sweet.”

“Liar,” you smiled into the kiss as he held you pressed against his chest.

“For the most part,” he chuckled, “Plus you taste sweet.”

“Mm, do I?” You asked, looking down at him. You did. Everything about you was sweet to him.

In the beginning you came off strong and eager and very lust driven. That’s what your relationship consisted of at first, just a lot of sex, sex, and sex. Then one day he asked if you wanted to go out for dinner after you left for school, he offered to drive down and the two of you spent an entire day in the city. After that you would call him in the evening, ask how work went, offer to drive down and see him for the weekend but you two still tried keeping it downlow.

When Jieun found out it put a stop to what the two of you did out of guilt until one day Jieun snapped at him and said, ‘Jeez you were a lot nicer when I knew you were hooking up with Y/n!’

Why’d she say that? Because she used his credit card to book a flight to Tokyo with Yoongi. So really, that was her weird way of saying that he needs to date someone so he can relax and it just so happened to be her friend. She still gets grossed out when she sees you two kids but she also feels awful for blaming him for the divorce and Y/n’s her best friend so she got over it pretty quickly. Soon the two of you were officially dating, doing grocery runs, shopping together, going on real dates and all of it. You never blamed him for having to work or not call because he would do little things to make up for it like deliver food to your place, maybe some flowers to your new job—a traditional dating man, you always said. Nobody had ever gotten you flowers and that was just so ridiculous to him that not a single one of your previous boyfriends ever even thought to do that!

Anyway, back to the point, you’re the sweetest little minx he’s ever met.

“What about swimming and then drinks?” You asked now that he was deep in thought, “Before it gets cold.”

He sighed, “You can live in the water, can’t you?”

“Well…” you stared off in thought, “I’m just thinking about how we’ve never had sex in the pool before.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, y’know? A premature death,” he said as he held you tightly and used his big strong arms to stand up with you in his arms, “Let’s go.”

You were both sexual beings despite Jungkook’s three or four years of celibacy. Even when he was with his ex wife he never felt satiated so it’s no surprise that when you came along the two of you were very intimate. You were always so eager and ready and though he loved your sweet side when he would catch you fast asleep on FaceTime while he worked away in his office, he loved your needy side too.

He was gripping the edge of the pool tightly so he wouldn't float away and angled his head to one side in an attempt to deepen the kiss the two of you have been sharing since you got in the water. He wouldn’t be surprised at all if he ever got a complaint from his neighbors from how often he’s fucked you on the poolside. He let the hand that had been cupping your cheek slide down to your neck then toward the hem of your bottoms. Your tongue poked against his and he parted his lips even more to allow you in.

He skimmed over your bottom until his hand touched the soft skin of your thigh where he pinched lightly and wrapped it around his waist. You lifted your other leg on your own essentially straddling his waist in the water as he pushed you against the wall for more support.

Needing to catch a breath, you began to pull back feeling Jungkook follow your movements to keep kissing. You nipped at his bottom lip as you separated, making him groan.

His hands were on your hips now looking down at your swollen glossy lips panting, "You have no idea the things you make me want to do with you.”

He was huffing out of breath pressing himself closer against your body making sure to keep your legs wrapped around him. He lowered his mouth to your neck placing soft kisses up your jugular.

"Yeah? Do tell, Mr. Jeon," you licked your lips smiling at the old term you gave him.

His eyes rolled back as you kissed down his jaw toward the back of his ear. He let out a breathy laugh at the tingle over his sensitive spot. His hands caressed your thighs and back making you grind against him a little, "Again with that? I thought I’ve taught you better.”

“You like it,” you teased. You felt his hand slide under the hand of your underwear, thumb pushing into the bone of your hip tracing it toward your butt. You slipped your tongue out pulling back once more to catch your breath. He looked devilish.

The messy, wet, black hair. The lip piercing he currently swiped his tongue over. The bob of his Adam's Apple as he gulped. The rough feel of his fingers inching toward your core as neither one of you pulled away from the intense eye contact.

Just like that, his middle finger was running over your clit lightly. Your lips drew open in a small gasp and he took the opportunity to go in for a tongue kiss. His brows scrunched together swallowing your moan as your hips bucked into his hand.

His hand toyed with the slick against your heat using it to his aid as he let his middle finger push between your folds.

His mouth formed an 'O' shape against yours at the first feel of your hand over his growing member. The briefs did very little to stand against your hand as you placed your palm over him. The water made it easier for him to carry you without getting tired but it almost numbed your touch—but you wanted pool sex and who was he to say no?

You struggled to tug his briefs down barely getting them under his member to let it peak out as his hand relentlessly rubbed against your clit. You finally slipped your hand over his member, relishing in the size of him as your palm ran over his tip.

The water made it hard to feel everything clearly but as you ran your fingertip along his tip you could definitely feel some sort of substance coming out.

His head dropped down against your shoulder as his hand sped up its ministrations using his free hand to guide your hips further along. His nails dug into the soft flesh of your hip.

"Fuck," he groaned feeling your hand stroke his member. Your nail ran along the thick vein underneath and thumb swiped along his slit. "Feels good," he mumbled against your neck, lips brushing against you as he relished in the feeling.

He could feel you getting close too from the way your walls tightened around his middle finger and it made him want to stretch you further. He let his ring finger toy with your entrance before sinking in feeling some constriction before you relaxed around him.

It didn't take much longer for his hips to stutter as they bucked into your fist and he had to grope at your waist to keep you from falling out of his grasp. His knees were going weak as he used one to keep you up against the wall.

"Jungkook," you moaned lightly, feeling his palm press harder against your clit bringing you closer and closer to your high, "I—I'm close."

"Mmm," he bit his lip, "Let go, pretty baby."

Your legs trembled, one hooking around him tighter pressing him further against you as you grinded against his hand. All it took was the whisper of your name so close to your ear, "Y/n, I love you.”

You nearly froze and got a second he wondered if it was wrong for him to say that. This was still new, he might’ve scared you off but that’s how he felt right now.

“I love you too,” you said in a whisper as your hand drew toward his base massaging his scrotum in your grip and at once, you both released in each other's hands kissing deeply as he mumbled it again against your lips.

::.

TOO MANY OF YALL HAVE ASKED FOR A CONTINUATION SO HERE IT IS BUT SOFTER

Ask GMA Jungkook and Y/n? SEND IN INBOX

collab taglist: @blueberrysoda a @cupidguk @weirdorathexplora @purpleguk @exactlygreatcoffee @minnie-mouser22 @bangtans-momma @royallyjjk @iceykoo @tae-hibiscus s s @happygolucky7777 @taeslarityy y @jeonzll @errewaythings @kmadelin @bloopkook @anjcrbnll @literaturenutz @absolutelyjeons @strawberrysweetness @jungkookminthairwhen @sincerelyflora @twilight-loveer r @heartjiminie @outro-kook @blueberrysungie @r0ttenbeans @koo-kz @allfryou @takochelle @kookies-n-spice @bighitbabie e @jjkreblog @queenmasterxx

personal taglist: @notmyfaultbutours @rerefundslocals @fandems @sugaluvmyg @guvgguk @kimyishin @libra04 @kooromiwrld @classycreationcupcake-blog @alwaysdreamingnotsleeping @cherrymonlightt @nikkiordonez12 @asking4-sanity @thvlover @saweetspoiled @uwu2rawr @shaybts-blog @babycandy111 @tearyjjeon @joons-uparupa @jeonninja @yellowcupid08 @02010802faves @knudsenheggedel @skzthinker @unnatae @aurorthi @beautywine @95ene @taekookstata @lilliankoo @shescharlie @annenakamura @lesoleile

#jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook drabble #jungkook angst #jungkook au #jungkook request #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #jungkook #jungkook x y/n #Jungkook oneshot #Jungkook fic #dilf jungkook #guys my age

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steddieas-shegoes · 24 days

Text

is that tax fraud?

for @corrodedcoffinfest warm-up round prompt ‘taxes’

rated t | 671 words | cw: language | tags: they’re just so stupid, and I love them, look Steve is here!

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

“What the hell do you mean you’ve never filed taxes?” Jeff asked Gareth as they sat around trying to write a song.

Keyword: trying.

Now it looked like they were gonna be figuring out how to keep Gareth out of fucking prison for tax fraud.

“I thought our band accountant handled it!” Gareth exclaimed.

“We don’t have a band accountant! The label just handles our money!” Jeff exclaimed back.

“Okay, let’s calm down.” Eddie, the voice of reason at this moment, held his hands up towards them. “Technically, Gareth only turned 18 two years ago. That’s only two years of back taxes. And if he’s honest, it’ll be fine! He probably didn’t even make enough the first year for them to care.”

“Well, I did get an inheritance from my grandpa who died,” Gareth said unhelpfully. “Does that count as income?”

Everyone stared at him in shock.

“This is a joke,” Freak said from his spot on the couch. “Has to be.”

“Oh my god, our drummer is actively committing tax fraud,” Jeff put his head in his hands.

“Guys, it’s fine! I’ll just file it all this year,” Gareth assured them.

“We should call someone. Right? Someone should be told about this,” Eddie started pacing the floor, wearing a trail into the shag carpet.

Who even put shag carpet in here? Shag was terrible.

The door swung open and Steve walked in holding three large pizzas and a grocery bag full of sodas.

“They didn’t have any Mountain Dew, but that’s probably for the best. You guys have a conference call in an hour so eat up,” he said as he started setting everything on the coffee table. He looked around when he realized it was way too quiet. “Everything okay?”

“Stevie. I fear our drummer may be going to prison.”

Steve paled. “What? Why?”

“He forgot to tell the government he has money. For two years.”

“He what?” Steve looked at Gareth to explain.

“I didn’t know I was supposed to file my own taxes! I thought we had a guy!”

Steve looked between all of them. He looked at Gareth.

“You do have a guy. The label provides a guy. I think his name is Sam? Maybe Shane.” Steve shook his head. “Either way. You have a tax guy. He filed for all of you last year.”

You could hear a pin drop in the silence.

“What do you mean? We all filed for ourselves last year. Except Gareth, apparently,” Jeff was frowning at the floor.

“Uh, well, you may have given double the money, then,” Steve laughed, though this wasn’t exactly funny.

“So let me get this straight: the label provided a guy to do our taxes without telling us. We all file our own taxes after this guy already did. No one caught it. Gareth’s the only one who hasn’t double paid into the fucking government?” Eddie asked, face red with shame or anger, it was hard to say which.

“Yeah, appears so.”

“Fuck you guys. Had me worried I was going to prison and I’m the only one who’s done shit right!” Gareth laughed. He reached for a slice of pizza and sat back in his chair, smug smile on his face. “Feels good to have my taxes paid.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Freak rolled his eyes. “So how do we get money back if we double filed?”

“Not sure we can,” Jeff sighed. “Probably isn’t worth figuring it out anyway. It’s not like we were rolling in for last year’s taxes.”

“But this year…” Eddie started.

They all looked at each other and nodded.

Yeah. This year would be different. They’d skyrocketed after the release of their first album and their first tour. Money was…pretty fucking great.

“So…pizza?” Steve asked.

They all nodded and started grabbing for their food.

“If you guys want, I’m sure Nancy can try to find a way to get money back. She’s good at that stuff,” Steve suggested.

“Nah, she’d call us idiots.”

“Well, if the shoe fits.”

“Hey!”

#corroded coffin #eddie munson #gareth emerson #jeff #freak #steve harrington #corrodedcoffinfest #drabble

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starlightshadowsworld · 1 month

Text

I have a headcannon that the Orphanage regularly committed tax fraud. And a bunch of other crimes along lines.

And that they had the older kids do it for them as part of their chores. That place was shady as hell and the Headmaster used to work in the criminal underground.

I rest my case.

So just imagine the Agency being given a case to investigate the place.

And usually they wouldn't be given such a thing but it's this sneaky operation that's been going on for years.

And the police are just baffled and beg the Agency for help. Ranpo puts on his glasses, solves the case but doesn't tell anyone.

He's too busy laughing his ass off.

So Kunikida and Dazai are sent.

And they just find Atsushi, one of the oldest kids at the Orphanage sat at a creaky old desk.

Case closed.

Dazai has to leave the room because he's laughing so hard. The Headmaster tries to blame the kids for it. Which obviously doesn't work.

Atsushi makes a comment about does that mean I have to go back to my cage? Which starts a whole other investigation and the Agency end up taking him in.

Aside from the murder, Dazai and Atsushi have completed the same amount of crimes. Hell Atsushi's might be higher, they just don't know the exact amount he's done.

Dazai is very proud of this fact while Atsushi is embarrassed.

"Come now Atsushi you should be proud of your accomplishments."

"They're not accomplishments!"

#bsd atsushi #bsd dazai #atsushi nakajima #bungou stray dogs #bsd

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syrupfog · 20 days

Text

Law thinks he has it figured out.

That scrawny kid who just wandered into the university’s yearly flu vaccine clinic Law was manning and just DECIDED that Law was his new best friend— Luffy, he said his name was. Monkey D. Luffy, as if anyone could take that name seriously.

Law thinks he’s figured it out, though. How Luffy CHOOSES the people he does, and adds them to his group.

(not that Law is IN his group, absolutely not).

Sanji’s the most obvious one. He’s INCREDIBLY useful, no one could deny that. He cooks obscene amounts of food for everyone.

Nami, too, feels like a given. She has CONNECTIONS, knows how to use them, keeps records and receipts and organizes all the parties that Luffy spontaneously seems to decide on. She’s the brains.

Zoro Law struggled with at first, the man seems to just think about swords—

but seeing them out in public, Law realizes he’s like a human guard dog, leering over Luffy’s shoulder at anyone who disagrees. Chopper seems a little young— is the kid even in undergrad?— but he’s first aid trained and Law’s seen him put it to use on numerous occasions already.

Now Nico Robin— how on EARTH Luffy managed to make friends with the youngest tenured professor GLU has ever had is beyond Law, but she has connections in academia the way Nami does on the streets. Law would bet money that Robin’s the only reason Luffy is still enrolled.

Usopp’s an odd one, but he’s… well, funny might not be exactly the right word. Entertaining. And more importantly can fix anyone’s computer or phone within an hour. He adds weird features when he does, but his work is solid.

Franky is a GIVEN, he’s the one with the converted old double decker bus — Law didn’t think they even HAD those here — and auto garage. Luffy says the word and he’ll fix anyone’s car free of charge. It’s ridiculous what Luffy can get people to do.

Brook is also obvious. Most famous musician this side of the East Blue, how on EARTH did Luffy meet him? Regardless, the man’s surely a millionaire slumming it with the rest of them for the chance to play what he wants to play and be appreciated for it

Jinbei was confusing until Law learned how they met — that protest that Luffy (along with half his crew) were arrested at last semester. Professor Emeritus in the law department, he was once famous for organizing protests around campus, and eagerly bailed them all out.

So, Law’s figured it out. As much as Luffy SEEMS like a carefree brainless soul, he’s been strategic from the very first step, surrounding himself with everyone he needs to stay on top. He’s incredibly devious, honestly, Law’s almost intimidated.

He also knows that this means he doesn’t have a place among them.

As much as he’s always planned on being a surgeon, things just don’t work out sometimes. Like when your adopted uncle frames your adopted father for tax fraud and make it look like HE’S a millionaire—

Meaning you suddenly end up with a dad in jail AND getting rejected for FAFSA. No money, no loans, one single scholarship that Law’s about to be dropped from. Sorry Luffy, you’re going to have to find a surgeon somewhere else. Chopper will be good enough, surely.

He tries to separate himself from Luffy, but that’s easier said than done, as Luffy sticks to him like glue when they’re in the same place. The man’s incorrigible, impossible, guileless, brazen…

Law ends up yelling at him in the middle of a party thrown at Jinbei’s house.

Shouts that he’s dropping out, failing, not going to live up to whatever role Luffy’s recruited him to fill. Tells him to find another surgeon, they’re a dime a dozen on med campus anyway. Storms out before he does something dumb like tear up.

Oddly enough it’s Usopp who follows him.

He sits down next to Law, looking stiff and uncomfortable, and declares that he “knows what Law’s going through”, which feels, well, patently untrue.

“I did this like a year ago,” Usopp says. “Tried to tell him to drop me.”

They’re sitting on the curb. Law scrunches grass between his fingers and stares at the road.

“I had a car,” Usopp says. “She was BEAUTIFUL. Best car you’ve ever seen. Two hundred miles to the gallon and ran on French fry grease.”

Ah, this is one of those stories.

Usopp deflates. “Then she died,” he says. “We’d just met Franky and he told me she was beyond repair. Then he offered up that bus he has, replacing her before she was even in the ground yet! And like, I’m not going to say he was replacing ME, but like—“

Law nods.

“It’s not like I had a lot going for me anyway,” Usopp says. “Not compared to Nami or Sanji or Chopper. I thought I was just lucky Luffy found me early, when his standards were lower.” He laughs, but there’s no joy behind it.

“Anyway,” he picks at the laces of his shoes. “That car’s at the bottom of a lake now, may she rest in peace. And after I tried to pull what you just pulled, Luffy really fucking let me have it.” He ducks his head. “Told me I was being fucking stupid, and he was right.”

He glances up at the sky and Law watches, a queasy feeling in the base of his stomach.

“Turns out,” Usopp says after a long pause, “Luffy really does just choose people he likes.” He sighs. “You’re just lucky, actually, because I don’t think he’s liked anyone as much as you.”

Law grimaces. He doesn’t FEEL lucky.

Usopp, taking his queue, stands up. “The sooner you admit what you’re dealing with, though, the more he’s able to help.”

Then he leaves Law alone.

And Law… finds he doesn’t want to BE alone.

He slinks back into the party maybe twenty minutes later. It’s chill. Brook is taking song requests. Sanji is handing out grilled halloumi.

Luffy immediately walks up to him. “Why didn’t you TELL ME,” he asks, indignant.

“What, that my life is a mess?”

“Everyone’s life is a mess, silly,” Luffy says. “But we can HELP, duh.”

“I think even YOU can’t keep me from getting kicked out of GLU,” Law says.

“No,” Luffy agrees. “But HE can.”

He points to Jinbei, sitting at an old yellowed desktop computer in the corner.

“I have friends in the law department who haven’t retired yet,” Jinbei says. He has small spectacles perched on his nose. “They know people. Sending a few emails now.”

Chopper walks up to the two of them, looking shy. “I can help you study,” he says. “N-not that you need it!”

Nico Robin comes over, cocktails in each hand, pushing one of them into his. “Student services is accommodating,” she says. “If you know who to ask.”

“YOW!” Shouts Franky from the couch. “And I just hacked their system and changed your grades!”

Law chokes on his drink.

“SEE?” Luffy huffs, crossing his arms. “It’s FINE. You freaked out for nothing!”

Law squints at him. “And if it’s not fine, Luffy-ya? If none of this helps and I still fail out of school?”

Luffy purses his lips. “Duh, then you can just come live with me.“

He looks incredibly petulant. “It’s not like I like you BECAUSE you’re a surgeon. I like you because I asked for two of every shot and you said I’d have to choose a fake name instead of telling me no!”

Ah. He did do that, didn’t he.

“And anyway, *i* don’t have a degree and I’m fine!”

“You’re GETTING one,” Law points out.

Luffy looks at him like he’s lost it. “I attend classes because they’re fun,” he says. “I don’t even have a high school degree, I don’t care about that stuff.”

…huh.

“Now come on,” Luffy says, wrapping small boney fingers around Law’s wrist. Zoro’s going to play snooker with me and I need you to watch to make sure he doesn’t cheat, because I don’t know the rules.”

And Law follows him.

And follows him.

And when he starts his next semester with his dad out of jail because Jinbei’s connections are honestly a little scary, and when he doesn’t sleep for three days in a row during finals week, and when he gets into the exact fellowship he wants, working under Marco himself—

Law follows Luffy.

Because nothing else makes sense.

Law hasn’t figured Luffy out at all But he’s figured everyone else out. Understands the magnetism they’re all drawn to.

And when he falls into bed with Luffy at the end of long days and weeks, He knows he’s the lucky one.

#lulaw #lawlu #my writing

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nerdpoe · 1 year

Text

Like Facing off Against C'Thulu, but it's Really Just your Fears. Part 2

Part one, Part three, Part four, AO3

Danny stared down at his hands, partially hiding behind the stack of paperwork on the detective’s desk, the blanket he’d been given pulled tight around himself to hide the scars.

Orphan had removed the Specter Collar, and Red Hood had escorted him to the waiting police car.

He had been taken away as they spoke with the police, but once he got to the police station and gave his statement he’d just…been left to his own devices.

They said they were waiting for one of their emergency foster parents volunteers to let them know if he had any room for another kid. If they didn’t, he was likely going to be put in the only place that they could force to have room.

The juvenile detention system.

So there Danny sat, trying desperately not to turn invisible and just disappear.

He’d thought he could reason with them.

Mom and Dad hadn’t always been like that, they’d just kind of lost it after catching Phantom.

It really was his fault, honestly. He’d have to find and apologize to Nightwing later for that. If he had been able to prevent all of himself from reverting to human when they’d cut him open, then they wouldn’t have made that mistake and gone after a real person.

But it had been so hard to stay awake during…well. During that.

Some of his internal organs had started flickering to their human default instead of the ghost one, and it had triggered something in his parents.

They hadn’t been the same since.

If he’d just been able to hold on instead of checking out like a coward, they wouldn’t have seen red blood coming from Phantom, they wouldn’t have had a reason to kidnap Nightwing.

If he had been better at handling his own mess he wouldn’t have freaked out in science class and they wouldn’t have had to move in the first place.

If he’d just been a little-

“Hey there.”

Danny looked up cautiously, but it wasn’t a detective.

It was a man in a suit, looking frazzled, with a CPS worker tailing after him.

The man held out his hand.

“I’m Bruce Wayne, and if you’re willing, I would like to foster you.”

~~~~~~

Daniel stared at Bruce, distrust clear in his eyes.

And for a half a second, he was staring down at another black haired, blue eyed kid. One who had just stolen his tires and hit him with a crowbar.

Then the second was over, and it was Daniel again.

Bruce held back the wry smile, instead wriggling his fingers a little.

Daniel begrudgingly reached out from his blanket and shook Bruce’s hand in a quick motion.

Not quick enough.

That scar managed to peek through, mocking him.

Bruce carefully kept his face clear of any rage directed at the Drs Fenton.

“Are you willing to let me look after you for a bit?” He asked instead, hooking his thumb in his pocket.

“...I have a godfather.”

“Who is under investigation for tax fraud as well as…other things. Things kids shouldn’t be concerned about. You don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

That had been another thing Tim had picked up on, the increase of injuries every time Daniel was with Masters.

No, the kid deserved a good home. Not whatever that man had been doing, isolated in the woods.

Said kid was still glaring at him.

“Is this a publicity stunt?”

“No, not at all. I genuinely just want to help you get back on your feet.”

Daniel’s head cocked slightly to the side. Just like it had done when he’d finished treating Dick.

Super hearing?

Possibly, although he wouldn’t pursue it.

There was a high probability that any superpowers were the result of Daniel’s parents and their experiments; forcing someone to relive trauma like that wouldn’t do anyone any good.

If Daniel wanted to come forward at some point with that information, then he would do it in his own time.

Unless some of his powers proved to be truly destructive, Bruce saw no need to push.

Regardless, he wasn’t lying, and his heart rate would prove it.

Finally, Daniel nodded and slowly stood up.

“I want a lock on my door.”

“Done.”

“I want to be able to leave any time I want.”

“I can arrange a list of other fosters if you want to leave, but I can’t condone running off unprepared in Gotham.”

“...You don’t limit my food intake.”

Bruce had to fight very, very hard not to make a fist.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Do you want a small snackbar in your room?”

Daniel nodded, his shoulders slowly lowering as he started to trust Bruce at least a little.

“And you can’t stop me from talking to my friends.”

Bruce was going to go after the Fentons personally if they ever broke out of Arkham.

“I can get you a phone on the way to the house, all yours.”

“...Okay. Alright. Let’s uh…go. I guess.”

The response wasn’t very enthusiastic, but to be fair Bruce was finding it hard to find a reason that Daniel would be happy in the current circumstances.

Ms. Villareal, the Social Worker at his side, moved forward to walk Daniel through what to expect and who to call if Bruce turned out to be one of the bad guys.

Gordon pulled Bruce to the side and in the hallway, where a paramedic was waiting.

“How bad is it?” Bruce asked quietly.

Gordon and the paramedic exchanged looks.

The paramedic opened his mouth, but Bruce held out his hand and turned around to pick up a spare notebook and pencil off of a desk.

‘He has super hearing. Write here.’

Gordon pursed his lips but acquiesced.

‘Alex says his vitals are all bad,’ the Commissioner wrote, slight anger bleeding through, ‘Heart rate too slow. Breathing too slow. Temp too low. Kid needed a doctor yesterday.’

Bruce closed his eyes.

Opened them.

Took a deep breath.

“If Daniel agrees to a medical checkup, then we’ll do it. Right now his comfort comes first.”

He made sure to say it out loud, made sure that Daniel would hear him.

He had a sinking suspicion that his parent’s hadn’t particularly cared whether or not Daniel knew he was about to have a medical procedure performed, and he wasn’t going to make the same mistake.

There was a long road to recovery ahead, but Bruce would make sure to ease it out as much as he could for his new son.

~~~~~~

Duke finished installing the new state-of-the-art locks on the door.

They’d received the text from Bruce of Daniel’s demands, and after taking a breather at the realization that the new kid thought they needed to be made in the first place, they had set to work doing what they could to make the kid comfortable.

Alfred had taken the most insult at the ‘limitation of food’ thing, and had started a veritable feast in response.

As if Alfred would ever let a child go hungry on his watch.

Jason hefted a small refrigerator into the room, shoving it unceremoniously in the corner. He was still livid about being forced to let those people live.

Duke…kind of agreed.

Dick had just finished his surgery when Bruce had finally left to go pick up Daniel.

He hadn’t woken up.

They’d known that, realistically, he wouldn’t wake up from surgery like that immediately; but it had still been disappointing.

Dr. Thompkins had told them that it was likely he wouldn't wake up for a few days; his body needed the rest and his mind needed the time to come to terms with the massive shock.

Duke hadn’t woken up until Steph had come in and gently shaken him awake.

Dick had been severely injured, she said.

He wouldn’t be able to pick up the mantle for an unknown amount of time, she said.

Dick was in surgery, she whispered.

It was bad, he understood.

Duke had been expecting a lot of things.

A botched jump resulting in a fall, a gunshot wound, a beating, the list went on.

He had not been expecting a literal vivisection.

“The fuck kind of monsters are this kids parents?” He muttered, cradling his head in his hands.

No one called him out on his language.

No one disagreed with him.

Jason just focused his efforts on stocking the minifridge with soda and water, his eyes still a glowing, sickly green.

Duke took a moment to fortify himself, and went to help Stephanie convert the extra dresser they’d dragged in into a snack bar.

Coffee maker, electric kettle, basket of wrapped goodies and treats, the usual.

Then Duke reached into the magic snack box and pulled out a small single burner hot plate.

…Okay, some not so usual stuff as well. That was cool.

He wasn’t jealous.

He wasn’t.

He set the hot plate up, unplugged, at the corner of the dresser; then one of the many five-packs of mac and cheese next to it.

It was best to be clear what the hot plate was for.

No one spoke.

No one wanted to.

To speak would be to remember their oldest brother tucked away in the cave, healing and injured and very likely traumatized.

Tim walked past him, drill in hand, with some speakers.

“Uh…I don’t think he asked for those? What if he thinks they’re listening devices?” Duke asked, not wanting to traumatize their new little brother any worse that he already was.

Which, like, given what little he knew would be almost impossible.

Kid’s parents were uh…perfect for Arkham.

“Bruce says the kid’s got super hearing,” Tim’s exhausted voice carried through the room, the teen himself balancing precariously on a night stand, “Speakers for white noise, so he can sleep. One of us has to.”

Duke winced, deliberately not imagining how the kid had gotten those powers with parents like that.

“Oh, okay. That’s. That’s a thing, then. Alright.” Duke nodded to himself, resolutely closing the Fruit Roll Up drawer. “We can work with that.”

He had no idea how they would work with that.

Super hearing meant no talking about their other jobs in the mansion. Where they lived. And had a base for said work underground.

It was fine. It would be fine.

They’d….find a workaround. Somehow.

~~~~~~

Cass lingered underneath New Brother’s window, setting up the garden decorations in a way that would allow him to break free.

She understood.

The option was what mattered, that it was there at all.

So she worked to make sure that if New Brother wanted to get away, he could.

The lattice was subtly added and reinforced. It was painfully new, such a security risk would never be allowed anywhere else on the mansion, but she didn’t mind.

She didn’t think he would mind either.

A sturdy decorative column that Jason had helped her move earlier was strategically placed near enough for a jump off from the lattice.

From there, it was just a puzzle game.

How to make a stairway from the window to the garden without making it too obvious to New Brother?

Simple.

It just had to not be too obvious.

She knew growing up like he and she did meant there would be no hiding it.

The mind recognized patterns, followed them, learned from them, and categorized them as a threat or not a threat as needed, a tool to be used or a thing to be ignored.

He would definitely notice.

She just had to make it so she wasn’t calling him stupid.

It had turned into a project without meaning to.

A small circle of decorations, each increasingly shorter than the last, formed a sort of spiral.

It was pretty.

So she added a bench.

New Brother would probably think it was pretty too. Maybe he would like to sit and relax in it.

She wanted to sit and relax in it, too.

Maybe he would want to sit together, someday.

~~~~~~

Danny nervously toyed with the new phone in his hands, making himself as small as possible in the back seat as he stared at Mr. Wayne.

The phone was the newest in Wayne Enterprises Technology, and the man had even bought Danny a shirt and hoodie for him to slip on under the blanket.

And Danny was thankful for that, he was; that scar was something he would gladly never look at again, thanks.

But his new Foster parent was a little…too good to be true.

Mr. Wayne had given no indications that he was not to be trusted.

He had flat out told the mustache detective, whatever his name had been, that Danny’s comfort came first. Additional medical testing came after.

Mr. Wayne’s heartbeat never wavered; the entire time he’d been with Danny he hadn’t lied.

He was, for all intents and purposes, trustworthy.

But.

Mom and Dad had been trustworthy people.

They’d been a little off the deep end, but the compassion they showed towards Danny and Jazz meant that they cared.

That they wouldn’t hurt people.

But they had.

Because of his fuck up.

“Hey, kiddo,” Mr. Wayne started from the drivers seat, pretending not to notice Danny’s flinch, “You need to call your sister? She was in your file. She may want to know you’re safe now.”

Danny couldn’t stop the tiny laugh that jumped out of him.

“There it is.”

Mr. Wayne’s heart had sped up at ‘she was in your file’.

Mr. Wayne’s confused eyes met his through the rearview.

“There…what is?” The man asked, immediately focusing on traffic again.

“The lie.” Danny was too tired to beat around the bush. The way there had been a pause and absolutely no talk leading up to the ‘his comfort comes before blah blah blah’ had been way too unnatural. Somehow, this man knew he had super hearing.

Mr. Wayne pursed his lips, not answering.

“I’m not gonna be your weapon,” Danny hissed, pretending his voice wasn’t starting to shake, “and if you try to force that you’ll get to experience first hand what it’s like to get punched by someone who can chuck a bus.”

Blue met blue in the rearview mirror, and Mr. Wayne pulled over.

He turned around in his seat, facing the teen in the back of the car.

Danny tried to act like his breath wasn’t picking up.

That his hands weren’t shaking.

That he wasn’t terrified of having nowhere to go, no one to turn to.

Vlad would try to make him a weapon, and Jazz would try to stop him, and he couldn’t risk her like that so if this man turned out to be just as bad he’d have to go on the run and-

Mr. Wayne took a deep breath, steadying himself.

Then Danny found himself at the end of a very serious stare.

“I know you have powers, yes. I noticed them through the feed on my son's mask, when you saved him.”

Danny froze.

What?

Wait.

What?

Mask?

Nightwing?

Son?

“Batman?”

“There’s no point lying to you. Super hearing, super strength, who knows what else; you’d find out eventually. It’s best you find out now. No, you are not going to be a weapon. I intend to keep you far, far away from being a vigilante.”

Danny couldn’t speak.

This was Batman?

The Batman?

Mr. Wayne’s face cracked a soft smile.

“I would like to adopt you, not just foster. But if you don’t want to, we won’t. I just want you to have a good life, kid.”

“Why…why would you tell me? Trust me? Why would you do something so stupid?” Danny wheezed, wide eyed and shocked out of any rational thought. Like, maybe, not calling the man who could take on literally twenty men and walk away ‘stupid’.

But sue him; he’d been a vigilante too, once, and intimately knew the importance of secret identities.

This couldn’t…Batman couldn’t…why?

“You didn’t have to help, but you did. Then you risked yourself to keep him safe. You did it with no expectation of reward. You’re a good person,” Mr. Wayne shrugged, turning back to the road and pulling into it, “I’ve decided to trust you. It’s okay if you don’t trust me.”

“But that’s…but it was my fault.”

The car jerked a little, before Mr. Wayne corrected it.

“And we will address that falsehood later, when you’re ready to. Right now, you should call Jazz; she’s spent every day of her first semester apartment hunting for the two of you.”

Danny winced, not wanting to ask what kind of access Mr. Wayne had to know that.

Then he looked down at the phone.

Unlocked it.

Took a deep breath.

And dialed out.

The phone was answered halfway through the first ring.

“Hello? I’m sorry, but whoever this is can you call back? I just got word of a family emergency and I-”

“Hey, Jazz.”

~~~~~~

Bruce pulled into the drive, internally screaming.

Everything he had was focused on forcing his heartbeat to remain steady.

There really had been no other way.

He knew it, but to just…out himself like that. Out his family like that.

But logically, there had been no other way.

Daniel had super hearing. He didn’t know if it was better than or worse than Superman’s, but it was bound to pick up on him or the kids talking. He may even have been able to listen in to the Cave.

And punched by someone who could, as Daniel put it, chuck a bus?

He actually really needed to sit the boy down and ask what else he could do.

He could have Black Canary on standby, in case asking actually did bring up traumatic memories, because the whole ‘but it’s my fault’ thing was absolutely a trauma response.

But he needed to know.

If nothing else but to make sure he knew who to point him towards if he needed training with his powers.

Also for potential property damage, so Tim could plan the contingency around if Daniel slipped up in public.

This also cemented in his mind that Daniel could not become a vigilante. Absolutely not.

Powers like that, mixed with Fear Toxin? Joker Venom?

No.

His kid was staying safe and sound in a civilian bubble.

Logically, he knew he should have just called Clark the second the phrase ‘chuck a bus’ had left the kids mouth, but.

He glanced in the backseat as he got out of the car.

The subject of his inner turmoil was gawping at Wayne Manor, eyes wide and full of wonder.

For the first time since he’d seen him, Daniel looked like a kid.

And if Bruce was being entirely honest with himself, he was already attached.

Had been when he’d seen the look on Daniel’s face after being told to run, how he had stubbornly refused to abandon someone in need.

Adoptivitus indeed.

“Welcome home,” he said, motioning towards the mansion with a grin that only grew bigger when Daniel actually smiled, “Let’s get you settled in.”

~~~~~~

Jason kept his distance, watching Bruce guide the new kid in from the shadows.

His emotions were still too unstable, and his eyes showed it in a blindingly obvious fashion.

The kid came in through the foyer, all slack-jawed and bright-eyed. Alfred introduced himself, and from there the rest of his siblings stepped in to do the same.

Damian had even stuck around to keep watching the new kid, eyes suspicious as he observed the newcomer for any tricks.

They all knew Bruce had no intention of making Daniel Robin, so he wasn’t even trying to murder the little meta. Demon Brat was being a goddamn shining example of courtesy by his own standards.

Steph had very obviously been holding herself back from going in for a hug, her grip on the stair rails had her knuckles white from the strain.

Duke had offered to give Daniel a tour when he was ready, but only when he was ready. Jason couldn’t help but notice he was looking everywhere but the new kid.

That was interesting.

He wasn’t squinting, either. He just looked a little green around the gills.

Huh.

Jason cataloged that for later.

Cass had kept a respectful distance, but anyone who knew her could tell she was practically vibrating with excitement.

She’d also signed to New Kid that if he ever wanted to escape, she would help him if he needed it.

The kid’s shoulders relaxed, just a little, once Steph translated it for him.

Jason got it.

He did.

Being dragged out of a shitty situation into an unknown one wasn’t a very fun time, and it helped to have an out.

Tim greeted the kid with a tablet and an offer to stay in the same general room as him if he wanted company but didn’t want to talk. Basically, Replacement was telling New Kid that they could pretend to acknowledge each other and not put in any effort.

Even though that basic companionship probably was what the New Kid needed.

Jason still felt like judging Timblerina.

Jason had no intention of introducing himself, but when he shifted to leave the kid’s head snapped around and two glowing blue eyes locked with his glowing green ones.

He froze.

Right. Meta. Super hearing.

“Jason. I don’t live here. Welcome. Bye.” He didn’t bother to raise his voice, New Kid could hear him just fine.

The kid’s eyes faded back to regular blue, just as Jason saw the green finally recede from his vision.

Something clicked in place.

…

Something clicked in place?

Jason frowned, feeling his expression settle somewhere on the spectrum of ‘confused’ but not quite reaching ‘what the fuck’.

Bruce nodded in approval.

When the fuck had Jason asked for approval?

Why was he being given it?

“Everyone, this is Daniel. He’s going to be staying with us for the foreseeable future,” B’s face did that thing where it looked like he was constipated, then smoothed out, “He knows.”

Jason’s brain paused and proceeded to reboot itself.

“He what?”

“He knows.”

“Tt,” Demon Brat scoffed, looking at all of them impetuously, “Obviously he had to be told. A meta with super hearing? Better to divulge it and observe the reaction, than to have him find out by accident and run away.”

The Foyer was awkwardly quiet, New Kid shifting from foot to foot.

“Well, if you know already; d’ya wanna see Dick?” Duke offered, shrugging.

“Who?”

New Kid’s voice was soft, like he was afraid of making noise. Jason also understood that; he’d done the same shit at first. Duke had as well.

It was a ‘going from the streets or rough living situation to being richer than god’ thing.

Daniel’s, though?

He spoke softly as he tried to fold in on himself, make himself as small as possible. Everything about him screamed not to notice him.

There was really only one reason kids did that.

“Nightwing, kid.” Jason offered over his shoulder, taking the encroaching green as his sign to leave.

He needed to get out and punch something, and he knew of a trafficking ring that had just been begging him to teach them a lesson.

And no weird little meta kid to stop him from putting them all down.

@skulld3mort-1fan @zelabee @waspsarebetterthanbeesanyways @ailithnight @randomkiddoscrewingaround @apointlessbox @pyramaniac @emergentpanda-blog @pastalavistamf @gin2212 @beacedocrime @spectralstardustandphantomnights @introvert-even-on-the-internet @candeartist422 @icarusinstatic @overtherose @toomanyfandoms11 @redhoneysugarorange @vythika96 @blueflipflops @undead-essence

715 notes · View notes

bradshawsbitch · 1 year

Text

𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲, 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞

pairing: nick goose bradshaw x reader

nick has been away from home for a while, and receives a very warm welcome home from you.

warnings; smut 18+ only, afab!reader, dry sex, cum play, silly goose (i love him), tit worship

word count; 1.8K

disclaimer; I heard the sentence 'I'd be happy to find a girl and talk dirty to her' and went (absolutely feral) with it!

tagging for funsies; @fandomxpreferences @jupitercomet @roosterforme @roleycoleyreccenter

Soft, warm sunlight flitted in through opened windows. The rustic kitchen was bathed in an orange glow, as you moved across wooden floors. The long day had finally started to fade to evening, and the cooler air felt welcome on your skin.

It had been an unusually hot day, and your body was only covered by a plain black, ribbed leotard. You knew it was your boyfriend's favorite, in part because ‘it shows off the girls, honey!’ and in part because ‘your hips and thighs in those high cuts makes a man want to do sinful things’. Goose’s words, verbatim.

Sighing sadly, the longing seemed to be reverberating deep within your bones. Nick had only been away for a couple of days for some stint with Mav, but God you missed him already. You knew he wouldn’t have access to a phone, and he’d been unsure of when he’d been able to come home to you.

So you spent the days trying to keep occupied, helping the sweet old lady next door with her gardening and keeping her company for a cup of coffee as she told you scandalously about the other old woman down the street. Her son had been caught for tax fraud, apparently.

After assuring her Nick paid all his taxes, and promising to spread the gossip along to your boyfriend (he had unfortunately become old Mrs. Baxter’s favorite gossip partner after he had whole-heartedly engaged in a 30 minute conversation, being just the right amount of outraged, according to Mrs. Baxter), you had headed home with a smile on your face. Which was how you found yourself getting some chores done, washing up the dishes you’d left since yesterday, de-cluttering and vacuuming (which was when you rid yourself of your jean shorts).

A glass of water in hand, you heaved a deep sigh as you glanced through the open window, the curtains fluttering slightly with the breeze. Distantly, you could hear a car approaching, not thinking much of it until you heard it come to a stop, and the distinct sound of a door slamming shut. You barely had time to put your glass down before you heard Nick’s tell-tale happy-noise, something that had bewildered you at first, but now only warmed your heart and put a big grin on your face.

“Goose!” you’d run towards the front door, and sure enough, the vision of your tall, hawaiian shirt clad man stood before you.

“Aw, fuck, honey!” Nick’s beautiful brown eyes looked almost pained as they roamed over your body. “You know what this does to a man,” a giggle fell from your lips as Goose unceremoniously dropped his duffle bag to his feet before moving over to you - that small mischievous smirk you loved so much adorning his lips. His knuckles trailed down your bare arm as you tilted your head up to look at him.

“Mm, what does it do, Nicky?” another weakness of his. He’d told you in his sternest voice that this weakness was strictly classified Honey knowledge only. A soft groan left Goose at your soft tone, eyes playful as you leaned into his touch.

“Honeyy,” there was definitely a whine in there somewhere “it drives a man insane!” he grinned as he drew another soft giggle from you, the hand that was not trailing up and down your arm now coming to grab at your waist, large palm splayed over the fabric. Leaning up, you couldn’t resist claiming his lips with yours, having longed to feel them pressed against yours for too long.

“Missed you, Nicky,” your breathless whine had Goose tightening his hold on you, arms winding around your midsection to keep you pressed to his chest as his lips strayed from your lips to your jawline, leaving a trail down to your clavicle.

“Hi, girls,” the relieved tone as Nick palmed at your tits had you balking before you swiftly landed a soft slap to his shoulder “Goose!” he chuckled but didn’t stop his ministrations, kneading the soft flesh and sporadically pinching your nipples through the thin fabric. Letting your head tip back, a soft moan flew past parted lips.

“I could tell they missed me, honey… had to check up on ‘em,” Nick murmured teasingly against your neck. For a moment, you thought a scoff might make its appearance from you, but Goose chose that moment to latch on to the soft and sensitive flesh below your ear, right as he rolled your nipple between skilled fingers - which turned the scoff into a loud and needy moan instead.

“Atta honey.. so good for me,” hushed voice, husky in your ear had your eyelids fluttering shut as Goose started leading you towards the sofa. He stalled for a moment, letting brown eyes search yours, a thoughtful look upon his features before he decided “Honey, I’m gonna disconnect the phone.” laughter rang out in the glowing red light of your living room, and Goose smirked as he made his way towards your phone.

The swiftness with which your boyfriend lost his jeans and button-up on his way back to you was astounding, only leaving your touch for a moment or two before his arms embraced you again. Turning the two of you, he nudged a knee in between your thighs to spread them before he sat down, bringing you with him to straddle his lap.

Goose was now only clad in a loose fitting pair of boxers, which you noticed were already tenting. As he slowly grabbed your hips and fully lowered you onto his lap, you gasped softly at the feel of his hard length against your core - arousal flooding your very being from the way he held you. Rolling your hips experimentally resulted in a low groan from your boyfriend, his fingers tightening their hold on you.

Labored and shallow breathing echoed through the otherwise silent house, Goose’s hands now guiding and grinding you down on his now rock hard cock. Your hands gripped at broad shoulders, forehead falling down to rest against Nicks, lips chasing his as they met in an open mouthed frenzy.

“Nicky!” you whimpered out as the head of his cock strained against his boxers, hard against the opening of your clothed core, where he ground hard trying to seek the pleasure of your welcoming heat.

“S’okay honey, Nicky’s got you babe, I’m here,” his voice was strained from the way your cunt tried in vain to clench around him, his tip just reaching deep enough to feel your attempts at getting him deeper despite the barrier of your clothes. Bringing his arms around your back, he guided your head to his shoulder, his lips pressing into your hot skin as his palm splayed over your lower back and ass. Rutting up into you, he pressed you down at the same time as his grip on your hip guided you against his length.

“Feel so fuckin’ good, darlin’” his moan caressed your skin, the thickness of his length now adding delicious pressure to your clit. Glancing between your bodies, you saw the bulge of his tip in his boxers, and the wet patch that had spread across it. A loud, needy moan fell from you, and you were grasping at Goose’s neck now, desperately needing to feel him closer.

“Need you, Goose– please, need you,” whimpering, you ground more desperately into him now, hips rolling down hard to feel more of him.

“Shh, honey, we ain’t in a rush,” strong hands stilled your hips, gently detaching you from where you sat leaned on his chest. Soft lips pressed against yours, and you needily tried to deepen it, nipping at his lower lip, desperate to feel his tongue on you.

“Baby…” his tone was warning, but his touch soft as he splayed one hand on your sternum, the other guiding your arms away from his neck. He guided your hands so they were grasping behind you at his knees, his palm pressing your chest away from him.

“Fuck, honey…” Goose groaned low in his throat, the sound emitting a whimper from you, brows knitted together as you hesitantly tried canting your hips in your new position. “That’s it honey, fuck yourself on my cock, needy little thing,” you knew Nick liked talking dirty, but this had your mouth falling open, head falling backwards as you kept your pace - again and again dragging your cunt along Goose’s length.

Reaching down, Nick grabbed at his clothed cock, guiding it to put pressure on your clit before slipping it towards your entrance, bucking slightly as he found it. The knuckle of his thumb dragged against your clit as he rubbed his straining head as far as it could go into you, desperate and high pitched moans leaving you as he started moving his thumb slightly.

“Please, Nicky!” Goose only groaned, using his forefinger to slip the wet material of your body to the side, fucking his cock just a little deeper into your sensitive hole. Brown eyes had been transfixed on your cunt, but now roamed your body on display for him, landing on your heaving chest, eliciting another deep moan from your lover.

Reaching up, he swiftly yanked the straps down to free your breasts, hands and mouth latching on to them as you continued rocking against him. Warm tongue and rough mustache created an overwhelming sensation as Nick suckled at your nipple, palming roughly at your other breast.

“O-oh, Nick - I’m–” your orgasm built fast, and had snuck up on you as Goose loved your body.

“Give it to me, baby, let me have it,” Goose grunted against your tits, and it was all the encouragement you needed as you cried out, hips rutting faster to get you there.

“Oh, I’m gonna cum so hard on your cock, Nicky” you knew your boyfriend liked it when you talked dirty back to him, and the moan he released at your words was enough to send you hurtling over the edge, a blinding orgasm having you mindlessly moaning, thighs quivering on either side of your boyfriends’, only vaguely aware of Nick’s hands palming hard at your tits.

Harsh breaths and grunts met your ears as you came down slightly from your high, and looking down between your bodies, Nick’s straining cock appeared and disappeared between your folds as Goose fucked into you. Moaning softly at the sight, you let your hands leave their place to tangle into the short hair at the nape of your boyfriend's neck as you whimpered “Coat me with your cum, Goose,”. Whilst you weren’t as well versed in dirty talk as your boyfriend it seemed to work as Goose came hard with a long moan, his white spend spreading and leaking out of his boxers and on to your swollen clit.

Lazily, he rutted his hips, spreading his cum over your pussy, drawing soft moans from you as his lips found yours in soft kisses. Chests heaving, you let your fingers card through his blonde hair, as warmth filled your chest.

“Welcome home, stud,” Goose smiled against your lips as he held you close to his chest again.

“And what a welcome it was, honey!”

#nick bradshaw x reader #nick goose bradshaw x reader #nick bradshaw smut #nick bradshaw x you #nick bradshaw imagine #my writing #smut

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