#A league above the rest | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

snaileer · 5 months

Text

Wrong Number? Wrong Answer.

It was the usual deal that the Justice League Dark dealt with… way too often honestly.

Initially, it had been just Wonder Woman, investigating a cult that had attempted to abduct her earlier in the month.

Diana had defeated them. Easily. Of course. But upon questioning them, their reasoning had concerned her.

They had attacked her for a ritual to open the ‘Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep’, a ritual which required ‘a blade blackened by the ichor of time.’

Once again, she was being targeted for her parentage. Did it ever end?

Of course, she questioned them further, what other ingredients did they need, what artifacts they would be hurting others to create.

A ring carved from the bone of an unfreed slave.

A crown made of lava untouched by human hands.

And sand directly from the pouch of Dream of the Endless themself.

It was an eclectic collection of items.

And yet, they had told her that only the blade remained to be created.

Again, it was concerning.

So Diana left the fools to be taken care of by men’s authorities, and focused on tracking down just what they were doing and if necessary, how to stop it.

After depleting her academic resources, and her connections within with nothing to show, Diana finally called in her friend through the league, Zatanna.

Zatanna had been frazzled by it, showing up in her living room before they’d even finished the call.

Together they tracked down the cult to Gotham… which was also a problem.

It was the reason why Diana was running through the caves beneath the crime ridden city with one of her closest friends in men’s world and a magician by her side.

All too quickly, they were surrounded by fanatics, each carrying sharp blades solely focused on her.

Working in sync with Batman and Zatanna throwing spells above them, Diana believed it would be a well-won battle.

Until a golden light flashed across the cave, blinding her for a precious second as she felt a sharp sting cut across her arm.

When her vision cleared, her arm was dripping blood and John Constantine stood in front of her.

“Sorry about that, love,” Constantine smirks, “No harm done?”

Diana’s teeth grind together as she turns away from him, fighting her way through more followers. The one who had injured her is nowhere to be seen, and the blade with them.

Even once the rest of the swarm is beaten, their numbers no longer being replenished, Diana does not feel content. The sense of danger lingers.

“Constantine.” Batman growls, “What are you doing in Gotham?”

The Brit rolls his eyes as he lights a new cigarette, “You know I don’t actually have to tell you every time I enter the city right? But besides, that’s news to me, portals are a tricky business, I’m tracking my own problem.”

Batman glares at him.

“Someone stole from me mate. And whatever they stole it for can’t be good, so I’m here ta get it back. Thought you’d be proud of something like that, Batsy, insteada leavin’ it for someone else?”

Batman’s eyes darken, “We’re tracking a group trying to open the Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep, is your artifact related to that?”

“Fucking shit it is yeah! Bollocks I didn’t think they’d be using the dream sand for something like that, what sort of mannies are these?!” Constantine exclaims, hastily grinding his cigarette beneath his shoe.

“Hn.”

Suddenly, there’s a rattling boom, the ground and walls shaking around them as dust rains down and they are all forced into stabilizing stances.

They barely share a glance before all three are running down the hall to the source, Constantine left scrambling to keep up.

The scene they come to is equal parts confusing as it is problematic.

The cultists are each in states of disrepair, crusting on the edges or yelling at their leader. The leader is the first to notice their arrival.

“You! You say you are a child of Zeus and yet your blood does not work! You lie of your ancestry!”

Diana steps forward, “I do not! I am the daughter of Queen Hippolyta and Zeus, grandchild of Kronos! The fault of your magic does not lie with me!”

The leaders face twists, mouth open to shout, but a flash of gold slams into him.

“Z, the book!” Constantine yells, arms outstretched as he flings more spells at the surrounding people, glowing ropes binding each.

“On it! Etativel em dna eht koob!” Zatanna shouts, lifting into the air as a book the leader had been holding flies into her hands.

Immediately she begins turning pages with desperation, “Wohs em eht stsitluc lleps!”

The book flips to a distinct page, and Zatanna’s face drains of color.

“Batman, we need to be careful, this spell looks legitimate, we might still have a risk on our hands.”

Batman hummed, looking at the chalk lines of the summoning circle drawn out before them, drawing Diana to do the same. Looking closely at the artifacts placed at each cardinal direction, including a short dagger with her blood nearly completely dry on the flat of the blade.

Batman moves towards the gathered and bound cultists as both magicians whisper over the spell.

Diana continues to look out on the evidence of the ritual, confusion warring in her.

She lays a hand on the lasso at her side. She knew she had not been lying about her heritage, so then why….

‘A blade blackened by the ichor of time.’

She looks at the bloodied dagger once more. It didn’t make sense, even if they had managed to harm a godly descendent, pure ichor would be gold; and even her blood was simply a humanly deep crimson red, not black; not until it-

Diana lunges towards the knife, fingertips brushing its hilt just as her blood dries a flaky black.

Her body slams into the cave walls in the next second, percussive force rippling through the air.

She crumples to the ground, struggling to lift her head.

White boots pass in front of her eyes.

She watches as they move towards her colleague, her friend, only to be surprised as they stop in front of the cultists instead.

As the air returns to her body, Diana lifts herself up, shaking arms supporting her as the weight of the atmosphere presses down.

She looks at the being, the sight almost making her collapse once more.

Mist curls around its form like a mountain peak, iridescent light glowing near its head, pitch black night covering its body, the pinprick of stars so small you can’t see them straight on, claws like a falcon’s beak: unhidden and meant to tear apart. And more importantly, wrapped around the leaders neck.

““̵̨̮̣̀͊̓Y̷͖̊̒o̸̤͈͍͌̈́͘u̶̗̭̲̍ ̵̬̤̞̀̑ā̴̟r̸̹̝̉e̴̞̦̮͑̍ ̴̣̩̖͑̓͛a̷̮̞͍͊͆͝ ̶͍̀̈́́f̷̖̄ò̸͈̓͝ǫ̷̅̀̔l̶̹̥̹̋͌͠.̴̤̲̈́͋̀”̶̛̫̺̈́”

The voice rattles her heart within her chest. She watches as Batman continues to try and stand.

The cultist struggles against the hand, mumbling screams behind Constantine’s bind. The creature tears it off with one claw.

“We summ-moned-… the king! Pa-pariah-!“

The creatures hand barely twitches, but the cultist breaks off in a scream. She is surprised to note the other cultists react exactly alike. As if linked.

“̵̻͝Ý̷͚o̶͈͝u̷̦̐ ̶̆͜d̶͈̄ǐ̸̢d̵̲̓ ̴͖̽n̴̘̅ȯ̸͍t̵̛̯ ̴̫̐ŝ̵̗u̴̹̇m̶̨͠m̴̡̽o̴̱̐n̵̘͝ ̴̪̈h̴̨̀i̶͝ͅm̸̰͗.̴͍͆”̸͔̔ The creature growls, “À̴̳n̸̛̜d̶͒ͅ ̴̤̃y̸̬͝ǫ̸̒u̵̫͗ ̶̘͛a̴̫̐r̷̠̈e̶͂ͅ ̶͔̋ḽ̶̔ủ̷͜c̷̥̍k̴̲͊ÿ̸̯́ ̶͓́f̷͇͝o̷͎͒ŕ̴͇ ̶͔͝t̶̞̀h̸̲̉ȧ̸̮t̷̩͝.̷͔̍ ̵͙͐I̸͎͌f̶͖͛ ̶̜̇y̵̜͗o̴̩̍ṵ̶͆ ̵̫̈́h̴͛ͅā̴̼d̸̤͆…̵͍̈́i̵͍̐t̸̡̉ ̴̭͂w̷̥̔o̷̟̅u̴̪͂l̸̞̏d̵͚̀ ̵͓̃b̴̢̽e̵̗͠ ̸͕̉m̸̠͆u̶̖͘c̷̯͘h̴̤̎ ̸̥́w̷͚͝o̸͐ͅr̶̦͐s̵̨̿e̸͕͆ ̸̙̑f̴̧̂o̶̱̓ȓ̷̟ ̴̠͗ÿ̸̥́ö̵͜ŭ̶̟.̵͎̉”̶͍̀

The man whimpers under the claws.

"I̴n̷s̵t̴e̷a̵d̸,̶ ̵y̸o̷u̵ ̴g̵o̷t̶ ̷m̸e̸,̴I̴ ̶g̵u̸a̷r̶d̴ ̶h̶i̷s̵ ̶p̸r̸i̵s̵o̵n̶ ̶b̶e̷c̴a̷u̴s̶e̸ ̵I w̴a̸s̴ ̵t̴h̸e̷ ̸o̴n̸e̴ ̷t̸o̶ ̶p̵u̴t̵ ̴h̸i̴m̶ ̵t̴h̷e̸r̶e̴ ̵o̶n̵c̸e̵ ̶m̶o̸r̸e̸.̵”̴ The creature leans into the cultist, arching ever higher, angles sharpening, body distorting, "“̸̝͋a̵̱͋n̶͓͛d̵̘́ ̵̡̍f̷̱͊o̵͚̓r̷̪̎ ̴̭̑a̷̬̓s̷͙̅ ̷͍͌ĺ̵̫o̸̻͆ņ̵̀g̶̚ͅ ̷̬͌a̶̮̿s̵̩͊ ̸̫̌t̸̲̕h̸̢̉e̷̖͗ ̴̰̋c̸̹̀ȍ̸͎s̷̡̃m̵̥̍o̷̜͋s̷̗͐ ̴̜͆e̷̛̙x̸͓̑i̶͉̿s̸̹̀t̵̛̺,̴̡͠Í̷̢ ̷̣̽w̵̠͋i̶̺͒l̴̠͐l̸̮̃ ̴͍͌k̴̰̑e̸̠͐e̷̟͋p̵̲̏ ̸̙̂h̷̘͋ị̸́m̸͕̚ ̶̳̋t̶̡̒h̷̩͆e̷̪͝r̷̒͜e̵̡̔.̵̭͗”̵̮̔

There’s a dull flash as light flashes beneath the cultists skin, beneath all of the cultist’s skin, before they drop to the ground unconscious.

All too quickly, air returns to the room, pressure lifting like a deep breath into the room.

The creature turns, eyes meeting Diana’s for just a second as he turns towards the chalked lines of the circle. Diana lifts herself to her feet, drawing closer to Batman as they both watch him, hesitant.

On the other side of the room, Constantine and Zatanna also struggle to their feet, eyes filled with fear and caution as they take in the scene.

As the creature moves, mist still rolling off him in waves, his features fall away with it, gradually smoothing to a more human visage. It looks… young. Boyish.

Those same white boots crush down on the formed crown, the cooled lava rock crumbling under one step. Next is the ring, held carefully in two hands the creature whispers over it, breathy wind carrying it away as it turns to dust. He holds the blade with one hand, flakes disintegrating off as he lifts it.

Diana’s arm tingles.

Then the creature is standing in front of the last point, holding the small brown pouch of sand with consideration.

Silence reigns in the room.

Constantine, of course, is the one to break it.

“I believe that’s mine, mate,” he cuts in, stance still laden with suspicion.

“Oh?” The creature smiles, almost mockingly as he turns to Constantine, “Is it? If I wasn’t mistaken, this ritual calls for Dream’s sand. Are you Dream of the Endless, little magician?”

Constantine visibly swallows, “I’m not.”

The creature huffs a laugh, fangs glinting in his smirk. He moves swiftly, pivoting on one foot to toss the pouch at Constantine, “Catch.”

Constantine lurches forward to try and catch it, only to find it vanish in the air before it reaches his fingers.

The creature cackles, floating backwards, “What did you do to get your hands on such an amount of Dream’s sand, magician? I’m curious.”

“It was a family present,” Constantine grinds out as he turns back to the gently levitating humanoid form, “You can drop the kid facade by the way, you’re not tricking anyone here looking like that.”

The creature shrugs, “And if I’m comfortable like this?”

Diana steps in to stop Constantine from snapping back, “Who are you, spirit, to be summoned by such a ritual?”

The creature watches her for a beat, “I am Phantom of the Dead City, Protector of infinite realms. They did not bring me here, but I knew who they wished to summon and came because of it.”

Batman steps forward, voice interrogating, “The Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep-“

“Remains sealed. The Tyrant King remains trapped and at rest, do not worry.”

Somehow Diana does not think that soothes Batman, even as a great a warrior as he is.

“Hn.”

“Now, about that spell book,” Phantom turns to Zatanna, waving a hand and the book flies to him. He hovers a hand over it, and Diana watches in fascination as the chalk on the floor begins to burn away, the drawing in the book following.

Phantom looks at her once more, eyes too wise and strong for the age of his face, and then from one moment to the next, he is gone.

The book drops to the floor with a slam, cover open to aged blank pages as the last of the sigil burns away.

Hesitantly, Constantine goes to it, the rest of them following. When Constantine lifts the book with careful hands, they watch another image fade into view on the paper.

A cool colored image of Phantom rising over a city skyline outlined in green against a deep violet sky. Even on paper, his visage shifts constantly between the boyish figure and the ethereal danger of the form he’d appeared in.

Beneath the city lays a large coffin covered in chains.

The lock glows a pulsing toxic green before fading to a steely gunmetal grey and going still.

“Well that was the best encounter I’ve had with a dangerous dimensional figure and I still lost the dream sand.”

Zatanna’s slap echoes in the cave.

#batman #danny phantom #batfam #dc #danny fenton #batman and robin #danny phantom crossover #young justice #bruce wayne #wonder woman #dpxdc #cryptid Danny fenton #John Constantine #Zatanna Zatara #dpdc #dp

3K notes · View notes

not-my-final-account · 3 months

Text

I’VE FALLEN DOWN THE RABIT HOLE OF DANNY PHANTOM AND NOW I CAN’T ESCAPE

Once the Justice League was losing. It was the end of the world. No seriously, the world was an hour away from being blown to bits.

Constantine sighed and rubbed his face, he had just ran out of cigarettes and it was making him more jumpy than was truely necessary in any given situation. Him and most of the bigger heros in the Justice League sat in a cave and were forced to wait out the apocalypse, well, the hour left of it anyways.

Constantine sighed and looked up to what you could see of the sky from inside their cave, he was almost… afraid. Afraid of what was going to happen, afraid that it had come to this, afraid that the rumours were true or even worse than they seemed, Pariah Dark was not known for caring nor his mercy.

Honestly Constantine was going to consider it lucky if he died and got to rest in peace, even more lucky if the world actually got saved! This was a last ditch effort.

Constantine grabbed a piece of chalk from his pocket, it was worn from years of carrying it around. He settled it on the flattest piece of stone he could find and started drawing the circle he had memorised. “John what are you doing?” Wonder Woman asked, he ignored her and took a deep breathe

“Oh dark king of the ghosts.” he prayed, there were truely only a few necessary words but Constantine felt like he needed to add a message, so he kept speaking as he drew the intricate patterns of the circle “My world may be of no importance to you, but I am willing to make a deal to save it. Please accept my summon, please be merciful, please save earth, please K I N G O F T H E G H O S T S.” Constantine begged, Wonder Woman and most of the others sat up or got more defensive, it truely said something that Batman didn’t bother.

Danny Phantom sat playing DOOM with Sam and Tucker, cheering when we got to a higher level. Suddenly something tugged at his core and a voice whispered through his ears

…oh dark king of the ghosts. My world may be of no importance to you, but I am willing to make a deal to save it. Please accept my summon, please be merciful, please save earth, please…

“-anny? Danny?” Sam asked “Hello?” she said in a sing song voice

“Still with us Danny?” Tucker asked, Danny swallowed,

“I- I’ve got to go.” he said

Constantine sat on his knees in front of the circle and… nothing happened, Superman glanced at him and started to sit back down when suddenly the stone inside the circle fell away into a green spiral.

Superman gasped and jumped back up

“Don’t attack him, bow.” Constantine instructed, reluctantly Superman and everyone else did, except for Batman of course, what’d you expect? Him to change? Just because the world was ending?

A pale hand reached up from the circle and grabbed the edge; whoever was in the circle pulled themself up slowly and as they came closer to the mortal realm Superman got a sense of dread, of death, of… something else, of authority, and everyone in the room seemed to find themselves bowing lower. Superman couldn’t help but think, had Constantine double-doomed the world?

Constantine looked up as the figure hovered above the circle, he was the first to move from his bow. This… wasn’t what Constantine expected Pariah Dark to look like, he was still imposing but didn’t fit the ghost kings reputation.

He had a cape as dark as the shadows with glowing constellations and stories sown into the fabric. He had a crown that burned with green fire and floated above his head, his eyes glowed the same green as the crown and his hand had a single ring. He wore royal looking clothes, white boots and gloves with a black shirt and pants.

This was the ghost king “Pariah Dark, King of Ghosts. I am Constantine-”

“Pariah Dark? I dethroned him years ago! I’m Danny Phantom.” the ghost king introduced.

“I meant no disrespect your highness.” Constantine quickly said

“I don’t- never mind. You asked for me to save earth?” King Phantom asked, Constantine gulped

“Y-yes, we can’t win, please, I- I’ll do anything.” he begged,

“A favour.” King Phantom said

“What?” Constantine asked

“A favour, I’ll save your world for a favour from you and your friends.” King Phantom said.

A favour to a ghost king who was probably very evil, that is so stupid and such a horrible idea, who in their right mind would-

“Deal.” Constantine agreed.

There was a flash of bright light and King Phantom disappeared, after a few seconds of him being gone the sounds of a battle echoed through the cave.

“Constantine what did you just rope us into?” Batman asked. Constantine really, really needed a cigarette.

Years ago, the world was ending. In a last ditch effort Constantine summoned… something. Superman didn’t know much about the ghost king that had appeared, just that he was powerful, and that the better half of the Justice League owed him a favour. It had been on everyone’s minds for a few months after that deal, waiting for the day they would be called for something horrific and hoping it wouldn’t ruin them or their morals. But truthfully, after a few years everyone sorta forgot about it; it was the type of thing no one remembered unless the subject at hand related to it, and even then you were uneasy for a day and forgot all over again.

So when a scroll appeared in a flash of green light during a meeting one day, Superman would like to say that the freaking out was justified.

Batman (who seemed to adopt everyone he met in one way or another) shushed the group of panicking superhero’s and picked up the scroll “I am calling in your favour, when you finish reading this you will all be teleported to my aid. Signed, Phantom.” Batman read. Oh no.

In another flash of green light they appeared in a park with a few heros who hadn’t even been in the room. Everyone immediately put up their defences and raised various weapons, then they realised the park was empty. Superman looked around using X-ray vision, he had no clue what was going on in the seemingly peaceful that could make a ghost king ask for help, then he looked through a hill and saw a giant green dog running with two kids gripping it’s lead.

As the dog jumped on top of then off the hill and ran in front of them Superman could make out the words in their screams

“Sit boy, sit!” the Batman looking one called

“I’M TOO YOUNG TO DIE! NO OFFENCE DANNNYYYY!!!” the one with devices falling out of his bag and pockets yelled.

Everyone lowered their weapons and Flash relaxed and scoffed

“This is what that ghost guy called us in for? This is going to be a breeze!” Flash said happily

“Don’t judge a book by its cover Flash.” Constantine warned. Superman was about to agree with flash when the ghost king suddenly appeared in the air in front of us, dripping in something green which looked alarmingly like blood- oh god the ghost king was dying!? Re-dying?!

“Forget I said anything,” Flash raised his hands in the air and got ignored as we rushed over to the ghost king who had fallen out of the air and onto the ground.

Before anyone could do anything though another person appeared out of thin air and then floated down

“Join me Daniel! Together we could rule the world!” he asked, okay that was an evil guy if Superman had ever seen one, he even had the looks to go with it, you could mistake him as Dracula … was that Dracula?

Suddenly another guy who looked like the ghost king body slammed Dracula from the air

“I WILL RULE THE WORLD AND ME ALONE!” as he stood up Superman noticed he looked just like the ghost king only older and more evil looking. As if the mention of look-a-likes summoned her, a small girl who also looked just like the ghost king only younger and female body slammed evil twin number 1.

“Not on my watch you fruitloop!” she yelled. Suddenly a woman in a track suit with ridiculous looking googles and carrying an oversized gun jumped down

“Get away you evil ghosts!” she yelled and fired some energy weapon at the small group, they all scattered and the four of them fought when some girl on a hover board swooped in and pointed her hand at the ghost king

“Danny Phantom! You and all of ghost kind will pay!!” she yelled, something on her wrist started glowing when

“GET AWAY FROM DANNY!” a school girl yelled. Her orange hair swung around as she discus threw her books and bag right into the girls face. They also ran off into the distance to fight.

“What?” Flash asked,

“When he said.” Green Lantern agreed.

“The Dracula looking one is Vlad, he’s a bad guy, so is my evil self from an alternate timeline, we call him Dan, Dani is the small girl who looks like me, that’s because she’s my clone, she’s on the good side but she might steal your stuff just because she can so be careful,” he took a wheezy breath “My sister Jazz is the one who hurled her books into the air to protect me, she’s good. The girl in the red suit is Red Huntress, she’s good she just doesn’t understand -same with my parents, the couple in the jumpsuits, their ghost hunters.” the ghost king explained

“Wait, your parents are ghost hunters?” Flash asked

“Yeah?” the ghost king asked- oh I see.

“But you’re a ghost?” Flash said

“I’m technically a halfa actually, but trust me I know. It’s all ‘we’re going to tear apart the ghost boy molecule by molecule’ and never ‘is the ghost boy good or bad’.” the ghost king groaned, I reached out to help “I’ll be fine go fight or help!” he said

#notmyfinalaccount writes #danny phantom #dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp #dcxdp

1K notes · View notes

cherienymphe · 5 months

Text

Teenage Dirtbag (JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, violence (+ gun violence), gun kink, dacryphilia, attempted murder, mentions of blood, public sex, jealousy, manipulation, infidelity, underage drinking, drug use, canon ages, kook!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ series masterlist

summary: You’re charmingly spoiled. You’re too kind for your own good. You’re the princess of Figure 8 …and you’re way out of JJ Maybank’s league, but when he realizes that Rafe Cameron’s pride and joy is actually a bruised and battered damsel, he’s determined to save you.

Your rescue just comes with a price.

Your arms were crossed tightly over your chest as you walked down the street. It was late, much too late to be walking down the streets of Kildare County by yourself, but it was the only solution you could find to allow yourself to think. You just needed some time to think, that was all, and once that was over, you had every intention of going back to the party.

Most especially before Rafe noticed you were gone.

When you slipped out of the bedroom under the guise of needing to pee, your boyfriend had been snorting yet another line of white powder that was painstakingly familiar to you. You figured you had a decent amount of time before he pulled away from his conversation with Kelce and Topper long enough to take note of your absence. A shudder passed through you, and you swiped your tongue between your lips.

It was the middle of December, and even if you were actually dressed for the weather—which you weren’t—it was still too cold to be out and about like this. Your dress had sleeves, but little good they did you when the fabric stopped above your knees. Your pristine white converse did little to keep you warm too. A biting breeze from the ocean hit your cheek like straight ice, and you swallowed.

You welcomed the feeling.

Anything felt better than this aching and suffocating numbness you’d felt for months, now. The sting on your face was almost comforting in some way because the pain meant that you were alive. Beneath the loud buzz in your ears and the hollow feeling in your chest, you were still alive, and that was so relieving. Too many times you’d almost convinced yourself that you’d died and were living out the rest of your days in hell.

When your face felt even colder all of a sudden, you paused.

You were surprised to feel wetness when you reached up, staring at your fingers with something akin to disbelief. There was really only one reason you cried these days…so why were you crying, now? The ache in your shoulder from the other day had long subsided, so that couldn’t be it. You felt your face pinching a tad, brows furrowing as you just…stared at your fingers.

Only the distraction of headlights could pull your gaze away, and you were thankful that you weren’t in the road. You really didn’t think much at all of the approaching van, hardly sparing it another glance as you continued to walk down the street, telling yourself just five more minutes. Five more minutes, that was all you needed. Just…

Five more minutes.

To yourself.

Without Rafe.

You stopped again because you were once again pulled from your thoughts, but this time it was by the sound of a voice. Brows drawn together, you turned around, noting the familiarity of it. It was only when your eyes landed on familiar blonde hair did you finally give the van a double take, telling yourself that you’d seen it around town here and there.

Sarah’s boyfriend owned it.

“Y/N?” she wondered, both concern and disbelief coloring her tone. “What the hell are you doing out here this late?”

She was standing just by her open door, the van parked in the road, and she was rushing towards you before you could answer.

“It’s like forty something degrees outside,” Sarah breathed, reaching for her jacket.

You noticed that even underneath it, she was dressed more appropriately for the weather than you.

“Where’s Rafe?” she asked, handing you the thick coat, eyes still wide.

“He’s just…up the street,” you gestured. “I just…I just needed a minute.”

Your excuse was lame, and you knew it, and Sarah’s frown only deepened as you put on her coat.

“You just needed a minute at twelve o’clock in the morning? Are you crazy?” she chuckled, but you could tell it was a poor attempt to mask her worry. “Where’s the house? We’ll drive you.”

You wanted to protest, but you figured that Rafe would notice your absence soon—he always did—and you should be trying to get back to the party before he did. You couldn’t deal with his ire any day of the week, but there was something about today that was particularly maddening. If Rafe so much as raised his voice at you, you just knew you’d burst into tears.

“It’s really no big deal. There’s plenty of room in the back…if you don’t mind riding with a handful of Pogues, that is,” she teased, pulling you along.

She knew you didn’t care about that, but she liked to poke fun, anyway. However, her use of the plural had you faltering, and she noticed.

“Oh,” you said, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. “Are Kiara and Cleo with you?”

“…and Pope and JJ,” she added, curiously eyeing you, now.

You were sure that your apprehension was all over your face, and you tried to weigh your options. There was no way Sarah was just going to let you walk back by yourself, it would be a losing battle that’d more than likely result in Rafe noticing you were gone by the time you finally got back. On the other hand, though, it would be just your luck to hop in after Rafe already noticed your absence.

Pope and JJ were names you weren’t all that familiar with a year ago, but you definitely were, now.

Even if they were Kooks, Rafe would lose his mind if he knew you were riding around with other guys. The guys in question being two people you regularly heard him complain about would only add fuel to the fire. One of them being JJ—a polite blond who’d smiled at you in The Wreck once—would send Rafe, and your physical wellbeing, spiraling.

The memory of that day had you blinking back tears, and you were somehow grateful when headlights blinded both you and Sarah.

Even if Rafe’s truck didn’t have a distinct sound, those obnoxious headlights were recognizable anywhere. As disappointed as you were that your alone time was officially over, you were relieved that you wouldn’t have to explain yourself to Sarah for the tears that were no doubt about to spill over. You’d seen the slight panic and shock on her face.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Those were the words that greeted you as soon as Rafe parked and hopped out of his truck.

“You said you were going to the bathroom and next thing I know, everybody I ask is saying they haven’t seen you for a while. Are you fucking-?”

“Rafe!”

Sarah’s tone was harsh, her tone incredulous, and she looked at her brother like he’d lost his mind. The eldest Cameron only just seemed to notice her presence—and that of the van—and you watched the way he snapped his mouth shut. By now, Sarah’s boyfriend had turned the van off, and you hadn’t noticed the door opening, revealing the rest of her friends inside.

They were anxiously watching the exchange.

“Sarah, it’s fine-.”

“It is not fine,” she argued, looking between you two. “Don’t talk to her like that.”

Her gaze was resting on her brother, now as he neared you.

“He’s just worried,” you defended him, attempting to placate her. “He’s right. It was stupid of me to be out here this late at night with no cellphone, no jacket…”

You trailed off with a shrug, leaning in to Rafe as he grabbed your hand and pulled you closer. Sarah’s expression didn’t change, and she fixed Rafe with a hard look to which he didn’t even acknowledge.

“I don’t care. There are nicer ways to get his point across to his own girlfriend,” she harshly whispered to which Rafe merely rolled his eyes.

He said nothing else to her, only choosing to pull you along instead. However, with another glance at you, he paused with a deep frown. You noticed that his gaze was on Sarah’s jacket, and so you were unsurprised when he reached for it. You tried to ignore the feeling of being watched.

“Take this off,” he told you, just loud enough for you to hear.

When you did, he roughly tossed it back at Sarah who struggled to not let it hit her face. He ignored her offended ‘hey!’, reaching for his own jacket instead and putting it on you. When your arms were through it, he pulled you towards his truck. You noticed how quiet he was the whole way, and you eyed him, knowing that a quiet Rafe was never a good thing.

As he helped you into the passenger seat, you could see that Sarah hadn’t moved, watching you two with her arms folded over her chest. By now, her boyfriend—whose name had finally come to you—had joined her, saying something to her that you couldn’t hear. Whatever it was didn’t exactly lighten her mood, and she only shook her head in response.

A somewhat familiar blond had joined both of them, now, saying something and lightly waving his arms about in a way that finally got them to move. John B. helped Sarah back into the van, but even as he made his way to the driver’s side, you noticed the blond still hadn’t gotten back inside. Just then, his blue eyes met yours through the windshield, and you didn’t hold his gaze for long.

Rafe finally joined you, and you lowered your eyes, resting them on your lap instead.

The last time you’d been face to face with JJ, it resulted in the one and only time you ever called the police on Rafe. That day felt like a lifetime ago, and it was something you desperately didn’t want to revisit. Rafe was jealous, always had been, and because that wasn’t changing anytime soon, your only option was to adjust and keep him happy.

“Anything could’ve happened to you,” Rafe finally said as he started the vehicle.

Taking a deep breath, you leaned back in the seat.

“I didn’t think I’d be gone that long. I just wanted some air for a bit,” you told him, looking at him, now as he started to drive.

He wouldn’t look at you, and that made your heart sink for so many reasons. One of his hands came up to rest at his lips, and even though his eyes were on the road…it still felt like he was looking dead at you.

“You lied to me,” he said after a while.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you sat up.

“No, I-I didn’t. I did go to the bathroom, but afterwards I just wanted some air. It was so loud, and everyone was smoking, and it was just too many people…”

Your words died in your throat when Rafe raised a hand, and you chewed on the inside of your cheek. When he didn’t say anything else, you settled for looking out the window. Despite being wrapped up in Rafe’s jacket, you still felt a chill go through you, and you rubbed your arms through the fabric. The silence in the truck was so suffocating and tense, and when you glanced at your boyfriend again, his gaze was still fixated on the road.

With anyone else…that would be normal, the right thing to do.

With Rafe—who was known to keep one eye on the road and one eye on you—it meant he didn’t want to look at you. You were internally cursing yourself…because you knew better. Leaving the party without Rafe, no matter the reason, was a bad idea, and you knew that…but you did it anyway. Everything had felt so suffocating, and you weren’t lying to him when you said you just wanted some air.

When you realized that Rafe was going to your house instead of his…

Your stomach flipped.

You looked at him again, this time with tearful eyes, but like before…he wouldn’t look at you. Furiously blinking, you tightened his jacket around you, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. The world outside of the window started to slow as he neared the driveway, and you took a deep breath when he parked on the other side of your father’s car. When he shut the engine off, you both sat there for a few moments, Rafe only moving when you started to reach for him.

Swallowing down anything you wanted to say to make this better, you merely took his outstretched hand when he opened your door. His hold was firm as he walked you to the door, and you felt his heated gaze on you as you reached for your key. There was no doubt that your parents were asleep—the plan was to sleep over at Rafe’s, after all—and you were quick to put in the alarm code before it could wake them up.

When Rafe shut and locked the door, you looked at him.

“Are you staying over?” you quietly asked him, and Rafe didn’t break eye contact as he leaned against the door.

He merely gazed at you for what felt like a long time, slowly crossing his arms over his chest. His dark blond hair curtained along his forehead, and his blue eyes felt so intense in the low lighting. He took his time in dragging his gaze over you from head to toe, one brow raising when his eyes met yours again.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he wondered, tone even and dripping with sarcasm.

Swallowing down a sigh, you put the alarm back on, and it took no time for Rafe to reach for you, his hand resting on the back of your neck as he walked you upstairs. Both of your steps were quiet, neither one of you wanting to wake your parents, but Rafe didn’t want to wake them for a whole other reason.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” he hissed as soon as your bedroom door was shut. “Huh?”

You stumbled when he shoved you away from him, and you fixed him with a look, taking off his jacket.

“I didn’t mean to be gone that long,” you quietly argued, and Rafe scoffed.

“That’s not the point, Y/N. You left the party alone in the middle of the night…no jacket, no phone, and with no one knowing where you went.”

Rafe spat the words at you, making you feel stupid—their intended effect you were sure—and you sat down on the edge of your bed. It was one of the rare moments where Rafe’s ire came from genuine worry…even if it was mixed with just a tad possessiveness. That was why his next words didn’t shock you.

You knew it was coming.

“…and what? Were you just…going to hop in John B.’s van before I got there?”

Rafe’s hands were spread out as he looked at you, waiting for the answer you both knew he wouldn’t like.

“Sarah offered a ride,” you told him.

“Sarah wasn’t alone.”

You clenched your jaw, looking away with a small sigh.

“So, what? You would’ve rather I just walk back to the party in the cold and by myself?”

His arms were folded over his chest as he looked down his nose at you, eyes hard.

“You left the party in that condition, didn’t you? That wasn’t too much of a concern then…”

This argument was going nowhere, and you knew you’d lose, so you simply held your tongue and fixed Rafe with a nod.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

You knew that was what Rafe wanted to hear, anyway—an apology. An apology for daring to go anywhere without him, for almost getting into a car with men who weren’t him, for running the risk of anyone knowing that your relationship with Rafe was less than perfect. When his shoulders sagged at hearing those words, you felt a little relieved.

“That was stupid,” he eventually said, nearing you. “…and I didn’t know where you were or what might have happened to you.”

His hand came up to brush against your cheek, and you reached up, resting your own over his. For just a split second, you saw the fear in his blue gaze, and it never not fascinated you. Rafe could be so horrible to you, sometimes…beyond horrible, but then in the next second, he was that vulnerable kid who just wanted to be chosen—favored. For whatever reason, he sought that in you, and the thought of losing you drove him mad. It always gave you whiplash.

…because you’d lost count of how many times he’d threatened to kill you if you ever left him.

He leaned down to press his lips against yours, and when you kissed him back, he rubbed his hands up and down your arms.

“Let’s get you warmed up,” he chuckled, pulling you to your feet and towards your bathroom.

As you turned on the shower, Rafe went to get clothes for the both of you. It only took a few seconds for the water to get hot, and when you pulled your hand from under the spray of water, you were startled by Rafe’s presence just behind you.

When the back of your head hit the wall, the sound of the shower drowned it out, and your eyes were wide as Rafe harshly pressed his fingers into your jaw. There was nothing unreadable about his expression. All of his anger and annoyance was plain as day on his face, blue eyes glinting in a way that was scarily familiar. When you reached up to grab his wrist, he only tightened his grip on your face.

“I would rather see you run down in the street like a dog than riding around with any of those Pogues,” he calmly told you, and you released a shaky breath. “Do you understand?”

He loosened his hold enough just to allow you to nod, and he ran his eyes over your face, seemingly satisfied with what he saw there before letting you go. You stared at his back as he turned around, furiously blinking away any tears that threatened to spill over. The chills that overtook your body were gone just as fast as they came, and you took a deep calming breath. You reached up to touch your jaw as he checked the water for himself, shakily starting to undress as Rafe did the same.

You stared at your window with the soft sound of Rafe’s breathing in your ear. His arm was haphazardly thrown over your waist, tethering you to him even in sleep. When you glanced at your clock, you noted that it was almost five in the morning, meaning you’d been up out of your sleep for almost an hour and a half. Once awake, you hadn’t been able to keep your eyes closed, and so you just laid there deep in thought.

Your jaw still ached a bit from Rafe’s brief but harsh hold, and you reached up to touch it.

Every fiber of your being had screamed at you to just stay at the party, telling yourself it was a recipe for disaster, but you’d gone against your instincts. Gone against what you’d been conditioned to do. Truthfully, the night could have ended so much worse, and you wanted to scream at how lucky you felt that you got off lightly. How lucky you felt that you’d only gotten some harsh words and a tight pinch to the jaw.

How lucky you felt that you wouldn’t have to put on any extra makeup for a week.

You could feel your eyes stinging, something that only happened in those moments where you let your guard down. When Rafe asked you out all those months ago—two years to be exact—you could never have imagined that this was where the two of you would end up. The beginning of your nightmare, your nineteenth birthday, was always on your mind, and you never not blamed yourself.

Rafe hit you…and you stayed.

…and now you were paying for it with your life.

You wiped your face, throat tight as you slowly sat up. Rafe’s arm slipped as you stood, and you looked over your shoulder at him, relieved to see that he was still asleep. You desperately clung to those rare moments of solitude, taking advantage of every second to just gather your thoughts and mentally prepare yourself for another day of lies.

Accepting that you wouldn’t be going back to sleep, you made your way downstairs.

Every time you smiled, you were lying. Every thread of your fingers through Rafe’s was a lie. Anytime your parents praised Rafe and gushed about him, you agreed, and that too was a lie. Rafe hadn’t been a good boyfriend in over a year, and you sometimes found yourself wondering if he ever was. After all, hadn’t it been four months into your relationship when he first started pressuring you for sex? It seemed like such a small thing then, something to overlook, and you wondered if anyone in the world was as desperate for a time machine as much as you.

Recalling what time your father usually got started with his day, you set about putting some coffee on. As much as you wanted to get started on breakfast to distract yourself, you knew how much your mother enjoyed that, and so you decided to leave that for her. Rafe had this strange way of sensing your absence in his sleep, so you weren’t surprised to find him awake when you went back upstairs.

“Morning, baby,” he mumbled, cheek pressed to the pillow and hooded gaze focused on you.

You were gentle in closing the door, not wanting to wake your parents before their normal time…but also because Rafe usually had one thing on his mind when he first woke up.

“Good morning,” you softly replied. “I was just making my father some coffee.”

Rafe’s eyes were on you as you rejoined him, hair going every which way as he shifted to watch you get comfortable under the cover. When you looked at him, he was smiling at you, soft lips turned upwards just a tad in the low lighting as the sun just started to rise. You couldn’t pinpoint the look on his face, and you were just starting to get a little worried when he chuckled.

“Have I told you…how great you’re going to be with our kids some day?”

You let out a light laugh too, looking away and feeling your gut twist a tad.

“You do say it more often than I would like,” you admitted, and Rafe scoffed, leaning in some.

“What? You don’t want to have my babies? A bunch of spoiled brats running around and hanging off of your legs?” he wondered, pulling at the sleeve of your shirt.

You tried not to think about it for too long.

“No, I… I’m just saying we’re twenty,” you emphasized. “Isn’t that something we’re supposed to be thinking about a good six…seven years from now?”

When you looked at Rafe again, his smile had dimmed a bit. It was subtle, but the difference was anything but to you. You knew your boyfriend like the back of your hand, and you swallowed when he propped his head up on his hand. He stared at you for a good amount of time, lightly chewing on his bottom lip.

“Yeah, but…” he held your gaze. “How else can I guarantee you’ll never leave me?”

His tone was light, but there was a hint of something in there that told you he was entirely serious. Even when he suddenly laughed, shaking his head at you and taking your hand, you weren’t fooled. The glint in his blue eyes prevented you from being fooled.

“You know I’m just fucking with you,” he said. “I just like the thought.”

He suddenly exhaled, face falling a bit as he played with your fingers. His smile slowly dropped entirely, eyes dimming just a tad as he rested them on your joined fingers. So much of your time with Rafe was spent watching him, waiting for him to say or do something just so you could gauge how you needed to react. Gauge the choice that would bring the least damage. You watched him swipe his tongue between his lips, brows pulling together just a tad.

“About last night…”

You straightened, pressing your back to your headboard with a shake of your head.

“Don’t worry about it-.”

“No, last night…shouldn’t have happened,” he whispered to you, lightly tapping your hand. “I told both you and my dad that I was going to work on that.”

He did.

He lied.

Or at least…that was how it seemed. It wasn’t like you knew what was going on in Rafe’s head better than him, so for all you knew, Rafe was actually trying. That was the deal, after all. Ward saves Rafe from going to jail and Rafe works on his temper. With that being said though, you hadn’t known how to tell Ward that you didn’t think the problem was Rafe’s temper.

Rafe Cameron was a very calculating individual.

God knows he was a lot of things but dumb simply wasn’t one of them. Rafe was the kind of person who just always seemed to be aware of his actions—too aware. Truth be told, you didn’t even think he had a temper. He just preferred to react to certain things a certain way because every time he hit you…grabbed you…even when he was yelling at you, there was a certain calmness to his visage that clued you in on the truth.

The problem was never that Rafe couldn’t control himself…because he could control himself just fine.

Rafe simply liked scaring you.

“You don’t understand how terrified I was when I couldn’t find you,” he continued, and you nodded.

“It was stupid, I know,” you agreed, briefly looking at your lap.

“Anything could’ve happened to you,” he roughly exhaled, lying flat on his back. “…and then I saw you about to hop into John B.’s van.”

Rafe shook his head in disgust, gaze focused on your ceiling.

“I couldn’t think straight,” he murmured. “All I saw was…red.”

You didn’t know how to respond, mind lingering on what he said last night. Rafe’s thoughts seemed to stray there too, and he suddenly let out a bitter chuckle.

“You don’t know what they’re like…”

That was true.

Your parents had never let you associate with anyone or anything from The Cut, and that had stuck with you even when you became an adult. It wasn’t like you believed the same things Rafe and his friends did, it was purely about being respectful of your parents’ wishes. Besides, you never had any reason or opportunity to mingle with anyone from that side of the island—every party you ever went to was in someone’s fancy house.

…but then Sarah started dating John B. Routledge…and she seemed happy with him…and happy with his friends.

…and so you figured they couldn’t be as bad as Rafe claimed.

“All they do is go around fucking up their own lives…and then turning around and blaming us because they refuse to…I don’t know, get their shit together,” Rafe sneered, sitting up. “They’re a bunch of low-lives, and if I actually gave a crap about Sarah and what she does, she wouldn’t be anywhere near any of them either.”

You watched Rafe pull on one of his many shirts he kept in your room, one hand running through his hair.

“So, I promise I’m not being my usual asshole self when I say,” he paused, looking at you. “You really would be better off dead than hanging around any of them.”

You pressed your lips together, nodding when Rafe told you he was going to grab something to drink. When he asked you if you wanted anything, you simply shook your head, turning to gaze out the window the second he was gone.

Rafe’s hand was tight on yours as he walked you down the beach, keeping you as close as humanly possible.

You knew parties were held on the beach all the time, especially the annual big bonfire, but you just never had it in you to go. However, when Rafe mentioned he’d be meeting Topper and Kelce there later, you didn’t quite know what came over you to ask about tagging along.

It had thrown Rafe.

“Baby…that’s not really your thing,” he’d lightly laughed, resting his hands on your arms.

You’d thought about it, humming.

“Mm, no, but… It’s your thing, and I’ve never been, and it’s not like I’d ever go by myself, so why not go with you?”

You’d given him a pleading smile, something you’d learned to perfect with Rafe if you wanted any sliver of happiness in this relationship. It had taken him much too long to consider, finally relenting and going to his dresser to find you something to wear. As he’d helped you get dressed, he made his concerns clear.

“You stay with me the whole night, alright…?” he’d said, tying your shoelaces and glancing up at you. “There are a lot of…questionable people at these parties. You’re not just among friends.”

Once you arrived on the scene, it hadn’t taken you long to figure out what Rafe meant.

It wasn’t the kind of party that only consisted of rich kids you went to high school with and who you’d see at the country club. You were sure you’d never been to a party where you didn’t recognize ninety percent of everyone you passed your eyes over. It was one thing to know you were kind of sheltered.

Something else entirely to bear witness to it.

“You didn’t tell me you were bringing Y/N along,” Topper greeted, nodding at you.

You only smiled back in response, heart sinking a bit when Kelce barely acknowledged you. You supposed you couldn’t blame him for his behavior. Even if no one knew the extent of Rafe’s wrath when it came to you, everyone still knew how he could get, and you tried not to dwell on the fact that Kelce’s aloofness had little to do with respect and more to do with how he viewed you in relation to Rafe.

You belonged to him.

…and so you couldn’t be treated like your own person.

You remained empty-handed while Topper got drinks for the rest of them, forced to occupy yourself some other way. You opted for drinking it all in, eyes lingering on couples too wrapped up in each other or some girl who wanted to attempt a keg stand. You didn’t feel as suffocated as you normally did at parties, cramped into one building with far too many people and no hint of fresh air. Out here on the beach, it was actually enjoyable.

The ocean breeze wasn’t even as cold as you’d expect, but instead a welcoming contrast to the heat from the fire.

For a moment, you even thought Rafe might bring you along again.

At least…until he showed up.

Your boyfriend had only half turned his body from you for less than a moment when you heard your name being called by an unfamiliar voice.

“I got it right,” he praised himself when you turned to face him, a beer in his hand as he held it out to you. “Can I interest you in a tasty Milwaukee beverage?”

For his own sake—and yours—you wanted to pretend that he wasn’t talking to you, but not only had he said your name as clear as day, he was also looking straight at you. That was something you weren’t used to—guys besides your father or Rafe or even his father holding eye contact with you for long. You couldn’t tell if he was brave or stupid. Your heart was in your throat when he stepped closer, and you were quick to shake your head.

“No, thanks,” your answer was hurried, and the blond that you were unfortunately becoming more familiar with only smiled in return.

“Come on,” he chuckled, extending his arm and the drink. “What, is it not fancy enough for you?”

You could tell that he was a little drunk, so maybe that was where his courage came from, but the mischievous grin on his pink lips also told you he knew he was being a little shit, right now. If it wasn’t for the way your stomach violently twisted into knots, you might’ve laughed too as you attempted to turn him down again.

“Hey, you know what, you know what? I’ll take it.”

Your boyfriend’s voice descended over the conversation like a sobering fog, and you tensed, taking a step back until your shoulder was grazing his chest again. You shrank in on yourself, mood declining even further at the prospect of what was to come. The blond before you noticed.

“Thank you, man, I appreciate it,” Rafe’s tone was mocking as he reached past you for the cup.

Your eyes widened a tad when it was pulled out of his reach.

“That’s nice of you to suggest that, Rafe, but I didn’t ask you.”

JJ—the drunk blond who was hellbent on ensuring you never attended another beach party ever again—kept his gaze on Rafe, that taunting smile twitching a bit.

“If you said pretty please, maybe, but you didn’t-.”

“Oh, okay, pretty please,” Rafe evenly repeated like the words were foreign to him. “Pretty please?”

“Yeah, so, Y/N…” JJ’s gaze was on you again, handing you the drink. “You can have it.”

You were in the middle of shaking your head again, opening your mouth to tell him you were fine when Rafe rudely beat you to it, declaring for you that you didn’t want it all the while knocking the drink in the other blonde’s face. Your lips parted when he stumbled back just a little, but you weren’t surprised when he put his hands on Rafe, shoving his chest just as you hurried to step out of the way. Rafe—always itching for a fight—seemed oddly satisfied to have just soaked JJ in beer, chuckling to himself.

“Dirty Pogues,” he laughed with a shake of his head, and you didn’t have time to linger on your disappointment with him before Sarah’s friend was punching him square in the face.

It was like you blinked, and they were fighting, and when you blinked again, John B. and Topper had joined them. Having been on the other side of Rafe’s fist before, you didn’t envy the younger blond when your boyfriend hit him hard enough to have him stumbling back. Even though you had long accepted Rafe’s penchant for violence, it didn’t mean you relished standing around and watching it.

“Rafe!”

It seemed that you were one of the few who actually wanted this fight to stop, so many other people seemingly enjoying this. You weren’t for so many reasons, but most of all because if Rafe walked away from this with a broken nose or black eye, you were getting some of the blame. Your eyes briefly met Sarah’s when she ran over, your gaze pleading.

“John B., chill,” she screamed at her boyfriend, pulling on his shirt. “Guys, guys-!”

Sarah was joined by a familiar face—you were positive it was Kiara—and you watched her help separate John B. and Topper while Pope was trying to get Rafe off of JJ. You thought to yourself that he managed to pull that off much easier than you imagined, but one glance down told you why that was. As Rafe stood, your stomach flipped at the sight before you.

JJ’s eyes were squeezed tight as he held a hand to his face, but that did little to stop the blood from seeping between his fingers. You were no doctor, but if you had to, you’d guess that he had a broken nose. The only reason Rafe was even able to be pulled off of him was solely because your boyfriend was satisfied with the damage he’d done.

Pope was helping him sit up, and despite the blood that dirtied his face, JJ still laughed at something his friend said. In the back of your mind, you could register your name being called, but you were still too focused on trying to make sure Sarah’s friend wasn’t seriously hurt. You couldn’t help but feel a little guilty, and when he glanced up, already bruising eyes resting on yours, your guilt grew. You were forced to focus on more important matters though when a rough grip seized your wrist.

“Didn’t you hear me calling you?” Rafe hissed, his gaze questioning when you finally looked at him. “We need to go. Kelce called the cops to break up this sad excuse for a party.”

You weren’t given the chance to respond to that, held at his side as Rafe stomped away from the beach and towards his truck. Against your better judgment, you glanced over your shoulder, thankful that Rafe was deep in a conversation with Topper and Kelce. You weren’t surprised to meet an eerily familiar shade of blue as your eyes met his, JJ half distracted by a conversation of his own as Sarah and her friends stood around him.

When he reached up to swipe his thumb along his bottom lip, wiping away blood in the process, he smiled at you, and like before, you couldn’t decide if he was brave…

…or stupid.

#jj maybank x reader #dark!jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #dark!jj maybank #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank imagines #outer banks #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

spacedace · 9 months

Text

Had a dc x dp brain worm, feel free to use as a prompt <3

Sidenote, I decided to get fancy with the Ancients titles because of course I did lol

Shifting Where = Space (Danny)

Eternal When = Time (Clockwork)

Ever Onward = Speedforce (Ellie)

---

Bruce watched the footage again.

And again.

Again.

It didn’t make sense.

A week ago every television, radio, computer, phone - even the LED billboards - had been taken over to deliver a message. Across the United States. In every territory it held. Every military base. Down in the depths of the oceans where American submarines tried to creep past Atlantian patrols. In the endless cold white of Antarctica. Even far above in the International Space Station. Any place the United States Government had control over, any place one of its citizens found themselves. There was the message.

The face of an entity, human in shape but not in form. Hair as gleaming white as starlight, eyes bright as the twisting dance of the Aurora Borealis, skin as cold and blue as the tail of a comet. The entity wore armor as black as the depths of space with a crown to match, the later glinting and shifting with the twisting birth and death of galaxies. A cloak of nebulae danced down his shoulders, eclipsing the world beyond the entity entirely.

He named himself, jaw tight, expression serious.

High King Phantom of the Infinite Realms.

The Shifting Where. Son of the Eternal When. Father of the Ever Onward. His Epitaphs many and ever growing. The True Balance. The Bridge Between. The Devourer of Dark. The Last Child of Between. The Great One.

King of the Dead. King of the Infinite Worlds. King of so much more than Bruce had ever even known was possible.

King who had declared war. Who marshaled his endless armies. Who spoke of warnings, of efforts to reach a peace, of trying again and again and again to find a way to not plunge into violence and bloodshed. All things living come to call him King in time, he had no want or need to go out and hurry that along. But there were no options left to him now. He had tried for peace. He had been denied.

He would not see his people suffer any longer. Would not see those he’d sworn to lead and protect imprisoned by fools who had sworn themselves enemies to all the afterlives. Would no longer permit the vicious cruelty to continue.

The message was a final warning.

A final offer.

Three days, Phantom said. The United States government would have three days to release their prisoners, to begin the process of dismantling the laws that made death itself an illegal act.

If they refused, he would lead his endless armies personally in the war to come.

It had not been an idle threat.

Three days after the message, after Bruce and the rest of the Justice League scrambled to try and figure out just what it was it was all about, after Justice League Dark’s members shakily took turns explaining just how powerful the being that had gave that message was and how much danger the world was in should he and his armies march upon their world, war came.

Of all places, it began in a town in Illinois.

The sky shattered like broken glass above, Lazarus Green beyond, and the Dead poured out.

It started in Illinois.

It did not end there.

Bruce watched the footage of it all, eyes burning as he watched every second of CCTV footage, every shaky phone camera video, every news broadcast.

Most of them looked human enough. Changed in death, but recognizably human once. A pair of glowing teenagers on a motorcycle, a writhing shadow twisting about at their command sweeping chaos upon the battlefield. A young woman dressed to perform with hair a literal flame, burning bright blue and snapping furiously as she played devastation upon her enemies with her guitar. A child with corpse gray skin and luminescent green hair, flickering in and out of Bruce’s ability to see as if fighting against a law of existence to be visible, screaming orders to a skeleton crew from his place on deck of a 1700s ship that sailed through the sky, disappearing into clouds before raining down attacks from above.

There was more. Glowing skeletons dressed in the fashions of war spanning every culture going back millennia. Robots with weapons far beyond the technology they had even in the League. Creatures of myth and legend. Things of nightmares.

Leading them all, as he had promised, was Phantom.

He looked younger, smaller. Just a boy, really, a gangly teenager that hadn’t quite finished growing into himself. One holding power beyond anything Bruce could ever imagine, but still just a child as far as he could see, no older than Tim who’d just graduated high school. Frantic research found Phantom appearing as far back as human history, but those sightings had to have been after his death. Bruce can’t help but wonder how young the boy had been when he died, how much of that youth still clung to him through all these eons.

It wasn’t something he’d let him self consider normally, not with something like this.

A dangerous unknown appearing without warning and attacking with unimaginable power and seemingly endless forces. It was something that would normally eclipse everything else. Something that would make Bruce put aside the ache at seeing a face so young twisted in rage.

But.

He watched all the footage.

Civilians were put in the crossfire. Were shot at and endangered. Were left terrified and scrambling for safety in buildings that were rapidly being torn away by stray artillery.

But never by Phantom or his armies.

The dead, in fact, went very far out of their way to ensure civilians weren’t harmed. Sweeping people up out of the way of falling debris. Shielding them from attacks that would have most certainly killed a normal human. Some dead even helped evacuate, ushering a frightened and panicked populous to safety as gently as they were capable of. Some of the less human creatures - giant bear-like beings with horns and fangs and ice edging their burly frames - even rushed forward to offer medical aid.

When the sky shattered open and the armies of the dead swept in, they ignored the town below. They focused instead on what was discovered later to be the base of a secretive government agency. The dead’s fight focused on those individuals in sharp white suits, bearing weapons capable of actually injuring King Phantom’s people.

It was these agents that brought the fight to the streets to Amity Park. That fired recklessly and without thought or care to the casualties they could inflict. That didn’t seem to care if they killed a hundred civilians if it meant hurting just one of Phantom’s soldiers.

Bruce watched all the footage.

And again.

Again.

Phantom had declared war.

Phantom spoke in his message of being out of options, of attempting peace. Phantom gave three days time for the release of captives. Phantom lead armies who fought viciously but never once willingly harmed civilians.

Phantom declared war, but he didn’t want it.

“Amanda Waller has reached out.”

Bruce didn’t turn his attention from the screens before him, eyes burning as he followed Phantom as the King dove away from the middle of locked combat to shield a child from a pulse of green energy from something like a grenade another agent in white had carelessly thrown. The child was crying but unharmed. The left pauldron of Phantom’s armor cracked and shattered from a direct shot from the enemy he’d just been fighting that he’d turned his back on, a glowing green liquid uncomfortably like Lazarus Water dripped down from a smoldering wound.

Clark stepped up to stand beside him as he watched, face worn and tired. The League had missed the first battle, but they’d been quick to appear at the rest. Phantom and his army ignored them unless they put themselves purposefully in the way of the fight. They were, as Justice League Dark had warned, vastly out powered by the entities fighting. A hulking giant knight made of shadow riding a nightmarish steed had driven Clark six feet down into the dirt when he’d attempted to make his way to Phantom directly to try and talk to the king.

The depth Clark had ended up felt like a warning of what would happen if he tried to get close to the king again.

It probably was.

“She said they have intel for us.” A faint twitch of fingers, jaw clenching, voice flat in that way that told Bruce his old friend was fighting back anger with everything he had. “That she has options for how to deal with the insurgence.”

Bruce shut off the monitors.

He’d seen enough.

Now was time to get answers to just what, exactly, Amanda Waller and the US government had done to cause the Dead to rise and rage.

---

Part Two Part Three Part Four

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #bruce wayne #clark kent #danny fenton #amanda waller #ghost king danny #ghost zone goes to war #space core danny #ancient of space danny #i'm gonna make ancient of the speedforce Elle a thing if it kills me lol #it just fits so well #Bruce's dad senses are tingling #Fright Knight might have been able to bat Clark away but if Bruce gets within a 100ft of Danny it's game over #Bat-Adoption Papers deployed #BatFam up a new member (or three or six)#Amanda Waller is not going to be as persuasive as she thinks she's going to be when it comes to getting the JL onboard with her plans

2K notes · View notes

dcxdpdabbles · 8 months

Text

DC x DP: The Real Blood Son

It's a year after Damian came to live with them that he decides it is an excellent time to bombard Bruce with his news.

"I had a blood brother." He says to Tim after the other commented how important blood meant to Bruce-ie, not enough to make him get rid of his other sons. "He was the first from the artificial womb mother made with Father's DNA; however, he was disposed of once his heart condition became known. I highly doubt you will last even twice as long Drake-"

"What"

Bruce didn't know that he could make his voice that cold. That dead. What in the world does he mean disposed.

Damian goes still. The kind of still where he isn't sure if he just earned a punishment and is trying not to react to the fear. "My elder brother. Did mother not inform you?"

"Damian," Bruce struggles to level his tone at Dick's hard stare. "She hadn't even informed me of you. Please, can you explain more about your brother."

The youngest nods. "He had no name, but he was my biological brother. He was forced to grow to age of three before they realized he was defective. Grandfather had him sacrificed to the pit."

Jason growls "what do you mean?"

Damian looks confused- as confused as he can with his league training kicking in. "The Lazarus pit is made from the bodies of young virgins. No older then ten. They are sacrificed in exchange for the Infinite Realms' power to sink into the water. The children are not aware of what is happening to them until the very end. They do not suffer."

Bruce feels sick.

They talk a bit more, on how certain followers throughout history were more then happy to offer the great Ra's their own children to renew the pit. How Damain had watched three children when he was seven be sacrifice- it happened every five years- and how the children were given the best week of their lives.

They purposely given the most joy they could feel before the blades to make the Pit as pure as possible. He talked a lot about watching the youngest- five years- be laughing and splashing in the Lazarus water before his mother cut him down, his screams drowning in the green liquid.

"They say the Pit absorbs the last emotion of the sacrifice. Grandfather hopes the children realize the importance and honor they have to be ended for a glorious cause, but occasionally a few are disloyal. When Todd had taken a dip, the previous Renew, had a brilliant girl who figured out what was happening and attempted to escape. She failed, of course, and her arm was amputated in a mission, but she died angry. That's why Todd had such strong madness compared to-!"

"SHUT UP!" Jason roars suddenly, eyes glowing green, and for a brief moment, Bruce swears he hears an undertone of a young girl in his scream "SHUT UP! YOU DONT KNOW ANYTHING! YOUR OWN BROTHER IS IN THERE"

Damain scowls "it's a honor. My brother's body was defective. But he at least had aidded in a glorious ritual."

Bruce can't help it; he leans over the BatCave Railing and hurls his dinner. Damian finally realizes that something is wrong.

They host a funeral for his three-year-old son, who died without a name, and place his gravestone next to his parents. They explain to Damian why the Renewal ritual is horrific but Bruce feels it take years before his son can see that.

Jason, went out into Crime Alley to let off some steam and had been going on a rampage against the underbelly of Gotham. He can't find it I'm himself to stop him.

Bruce asks Constantine to come over and do a small ritual, to hopefully unbound his child and let his son soul move on. Constantine warns that with the kid's name it may not work and that they could only free souls they share blood to but the English man tries anyway.

They send his son their prayers, and hopes. And they try to put him to rest.

Across the Infinite Releams to three dimensions to the right of the Wayne's soul resting ritual, The Fenton's adoptived son, Danny Fenton jolts in his English Class.

The strange stabbing scar above his heart- which is why he never takes off his shirt- burns then cools as if someone had tried to place the temperature-changing ointment. He rubs his best, confused.

What was that?

He'll have to check with FrostBite. Maybe his heart condition is acting up again. It happens every five years even though no doctors his parents have taken him to could figure out what it was.

Until Frostbite. The yeti claimed it had something to do with dark arts, but he's unsure what type.

Frostbite is still doing more testing.

"I wish you had lived, brother. I wish I knew you name"

The wind whispers, and Danny feels a flash of deep longing and grief before it's gone. Yeah, he needs to talk to Frostbite.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Tw: Child human sacrifice #Danny was sacrificed but he slipped into the Realms and floated to the Fenton's before dying #Jack and Maddie found him at a natural portal #they adoptive him #raised him #and Damian was born two years later #Danny can feel the bats

3K notes · View notes

tales-of-the-ghost-zone · 8 months

Text

DP X DC crossover prompt

Sam and Tucker, thanks to living in Amity Park and being overshadowed and controlled by ghosts so many time, had become very liminal. Until an accident while trying to stop the newest ghost enemy led to the two of them becoming halfa’s. Sam’s ghost form looks like what she looked like during the whole Undergrowth thing. And Tucker’s ghost form looks like his King Tuck design.

After a reveal gone wrong, Danny, Sam, and Tucker flee Amity Park. The trio run away to Gotham, and using money Sam managed to snag from her account before they left, they buy a nice sized building right in the middle of Crime Alley. They decide to turn it into a bookshop and cafe. There’s a garden/greenhouse attached to the back end of the building where Sam grows all her plants and herbs. Tucker has his own tech room in the basement alongside Danny’s tiny lab space. They live together in the apartment above the bookshop/cafe.

One day while out on a walk, Danny stumbles across two tiny twin half formed baby ghost cores. They’re nothing more than tiny little balls of glowing light at the moment. Baby ghosts that are just starting to form but are nothing more than cores at the moment. But they seem to be slowly fading. Danny refuses to let them fade away into nothing. He scoops them up, infuses them with some of his ectoplasm to get them going, and then shoved them into his chest for safe keeping and so that they can be close to his own core which starts slowly feeding them energy.

Danny rushes back to the shop and drags Sam and Tucker to the upstairs apartment and shows him the baby ghost cores he’s found. The three all agree that they’re going to help these cores develop into actual ghosts. They switch off on who carry’s the ghost cores around. Some days it’s Danny. Some days it’s Tucker. And some days it’s Sam. Each of them feeding the cores a little bit of their ectoplasm to help them grow.

One of the cores feels distinctly female and has a purplish blue glow to it. The three start jokingly calling her violet. The other core has a distinctly male feel to it. It’s an orangish red and has a small crack along one side of it. Danny jokingly said one time how he (the baby core) kind of looked like Nemo’s egg at the beginning of Finding Nemo and ever since they’ve been calling him Nemo.

The two cores have been developing very slowly, both seemingly unable to absorb the needed ectoplasm, to form into full ghosts, quickly. The trio is fine with this, they can be patient, and wait to meet their twins.

Then one day there’s some kind of massive ghost attack. Maybe a cult or something attempted to summon the ghost king but messed up the summoning and accidentally summoned something else. The Justice League try and fight the thing, but they’re no match for this ghost monstrosity. And the JLD aren’t available to help for whatever reason. The trio decides to step in and help. They kick the crap out of the ghost pretty easily and send it back to the ghost zone. Then Danny, in his King Phantom garb (crown of fire, whispy white fire like hair, a regal looking version of his hazmat suit, the ring of rage on one finger, and a cape around his shoulders, the outside being pure white but the inside looking like the vastness of space) approaches the cult and rebukes them, telling them how even if they had managed to summon him he never would have helped them take over the world.

After that the trio become members of the Justice League. Thanks to some of Danny’s previous time travel shenanigans, and Danny being the ghost king, and Sam and Tucker his consorts/mates(?) the Justice League all think that the trio are ancient eldritch ghost gods.

And then one day when the trio are in the Watch Tower with the rest of the League their twin baby ghost cores come up. Maybe it was time to switch out who was carrying them, and mid meeting or lunch or whatever, Danny just reaches into his chest, pulls out two small glowing orbs. He cradles them close to his chest for a moment, looking at them lovingly, and whispering something soft to them in ghost speak. Then hands them over to Sam, who does the whole cradle them close and whisper softly in ghost speak before shoving them right into her chest.

They look up from this to see the whole League staring at them wide eyed and confused. Danny just casually explains that those are their children but they’re still forming so the trio needs to keep them close to their cores to help them grow, but they like to switch up everyday who carry’s them. Every member of the Justice League becomes super protective of the trio after this. They see it as the three essentially being pregnant (sort of), and they don’t always know which one of them is carrying the baby ghost. So best to just be protective of all three. The trio finds this kind of amusing and a touch bit sweet.

When the twin baby cores finally develop into actual baby ghosts, the two kind of look like a mixture between Danny, Sam, and Tucker’s ghost forms. Though Violet has dark purple hair and eyes and Nemo has bright orangish red hair and eyes.

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc prompt #danny phantom #everlasting trio #ghost king phantom #Violet and Nemo become the darlings of the Justice League #the two hellions run around the watch tower whenever possible #Wonder Woman sneaks them candy whenever possible #Dani stops in one day to meet her niece and nephew #the three proceed to cause chaos together #most of the time if you see the twins at least one of the trio is with them #if not one of the trio then some member of the Justice League #and if none of the trio or the Justice league is around #then Fright Knight is assigned guard duty #lord help the soul of anyone that try’s to mess with the prince and princess of the ghost zone #because non of the above mentioned people will show them any mercy

2K notes · View notes

alyakthedorklord · 9 months

Note

Omg literally it would be SO cool if you wrote the rest of the playboy bruce trying to kiss the justice league without them realizing it (I know you said figure it out but the way you wrote it was so good and funn I would love it if you gave maybe a couple of scenarios)

Lmao honestly executive dysfunction is kicking my ASS rn and it was intended as a prompt. I will try tho, definitely taking inspiration from the others who responded to the post because I love them.

If you haven’t, go check out the notes on the OG Post above! @britcision, @ivywing, and @help-i-need-a-cool-username all had amazing additions and @foursixtwonineoh-pieces-of-lego wrote a fic:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48325771

As did @scrapcheck, still in progress

And Devilhorn!

Anyways LONG post under the cut

Hal Jordan

Hal is first to prove a POINT, as @britcision decided. Also because the bastard made it waaaay too easy. Remember- Hal was Joking. He genuinely thinks Batman isn’t going to try, because he’s way too straight-laced boring.

So when he’s at a bar in Coast City, and he sees this absolutely ravishing man lounging casually against the wall, bar lighting making him practically glow (he CALCULATED that) subtle makeup making his bright blue eyes pop as he looks Hal up and down… Well. Hal makes the first move.

Hal: “All on your own, handsome?”

Bruce, with “Mastermind” by Taylor Swift playing in his head, smiling sweetly at Hal: “Care to change that?”

They start talking. Hal doesn’t recognize Bruce Wayne at ALL (canonically he does not know who Bruce Wayne is, a point brought up by @help-i-need-a-cool-username) so all he knows is Bruce is a single father who works at a company he inherited from his parents, which is just (brucie voice) “so much less interesting than a test pilot!”

Bruce, grimacing internally but wrapped around Hal’s arm with the awed and interested eyes in full effect: “you have such a nice voice, tell me more about planes…”

He KNOWS what a fuselage is, thank you, Jordan. Whatever. He gets to gush about his kids, when its his turn to talk, good enough tradeoff. He can survive Hal Jordan’s bad pick up lines and pretend he’s into them. At a certain point Bruce breaks and kisses him just to shut him up. One down.

Diana Prince

I looked it up- kissing in Ancient Greece wasn’t always considered romantic, but also a greeting between two similarly-ranked people. Therefore, I think Diana would be pretty chill with kissing and honestly an easy target at a gala if Bruce plays respectful/clumsy/earnest himbo starstruck with the tall pretty woman, just a peck would make him the happiest man alive. But I wanna go a little more in depth.

Now, I’ve seen Flash and Martian Manhunter save Bruce and/or his kids and Bruce lays one on them, but honestly I think it would work well with Diana too, because she loves kids. Dick and/or Jason (whichever you want to imagine, I want them to team up screw canon) are WAY to excited for this, they’ve got a little script and everything.

WonderWoman, a kid in each arm, delivering them back to their tearful guardian: “Here we are, Mr. Wayne. Whole and healthy.”

Dick, playing into his role eagerly: “Oh my gosh, Bruce! Bruce we got saved by a princess! It’s like a fairytale! Except, you know, the princess is the hero this time, which is so freaking cool!��

Bruce, tears of gratitude rolling down his face (and he knows how to still look perfect while crying, its a skill): “I’m just glad the two of you are safe, Chum.”

Jason, big baby blues in full effect, absolutely asked Wonder Woman to be his mom earlier (to set groundwork, no other reason): “You know, usually the princess and the hero gets a kiss at the end of a fairytale, Bruce. But this princess is both. So how will she get a reward?”

Still choked up with relieved tears and now laughter, Bruce looks up at Diana and smiles: “Well, if the Princess wants a reward… then I would be a fool to refuse.”

Bruce kisses her on the lips, Dick and Jason both kiss her cheeks, Diana leaves charmed and amused by the sweet family. Such a good father, humoring his children and thier little fascination with her, so very respectful…

Two down.

J’ohn Jones

Okay, martians are telepathic. So this goes one of two ways, at some sort of charity or something-

Option 1, Batman is a realist: the charity event is a masquerade, and he wanders over to where MM is while thinking “it would be so funny, give me this.” As loudly as he can. And Martian Manhunter, who appreciates the audacity, gives him a kiss. (I don’t like this one because it technically breaks the rules of the bet, bc MM knows it’s Batman, but eh)

Option 2, Batman is a different breed: he manages to up the ante with his Himbo Persona. Creating a “slippery void” mental facade that blocks of his real thoughts and makes him read as really just that stupid. This would require functioning with two trains of thought at once, and making sure that the Martian can only read the surface level, “oh, this one is pretty” “I really wouldn’t mind kissing him” and other such decoy thoughts, instead of “target is approaching, signs of interest present despite this not being his natural form-“

Bruce also researches and copies Martian courting styles and copies them “by chance,” catching MM’s attention. (He offers him Oreos)

Martian Manhunter: “this man… he is so empty headed and yet clearly kind and willing. I would not take him for a life partner, but for some simple fun as he seems to desire…”

(Edit: Maybe, if B is confident enough, he lets through his loneliness. Missing his parents, wanting affection, an ache so strong it’s like a physical wound. J’onn feels the same ache for his lost family, and decides to try this human’s strategy to fill that void. Either way…)

Batman 3, League 0

Barry Allen

I’m strangely blank when it comes to the Flash let me just spitball and let it snowball

As I said above, people have had him save Bruce, had Bruce seduce him at his workplace while taking a tour, I even saw @help-i-need-a-cool-username have Dick set up a petition for Bruce to kiss the Flash. (An idea that I personally think would also go really well with Superman lmao.)

Anyways, I think it would be funny for Bruce to take it slow with Barry. For the irony of it all. Because Batman is doing this to prove a POINT. So he’s in central city, spots Barry coming his way, and “accidentally” slips right into his arms. Ooh, or covered in coffee, like a wealth disparity drama base script, and Barry’s like “omg i am so sorry let me pay you back.” And bruce is all “this shirt costs (stupid amount of money)”

Barry: (fear)

Bruce, rolling with it rn: “yes, it is horrendous, isn’t it? Hows this- I’m in central city for a day. You can pay me back by showing me around?”

He then proceeds to string barry along on an honest to god DATE for shits and giggles. They go clothes shopping, they go to restaurants, Bruce pays for a big meal bc this is after a fight or something and Barry got hurt, his speedster comrade needs to EAT, damnit.

After all this, he gives a cheeky smile and lightly smooches Barry. “Thanks for the fun day, Mr. Allen.”

Barry, bright red and goo brained: “hah- mmhmm. Yeah…”

Batman 4, League 0

Oliver Queen

This one… Oliver is on guard. He’s twitchy and suspicious, turning down men flirting with him, people are starting to notice. But Bruce? Bruce just walks up at a party while “tipsy” and lays one on him. Straight up. He wants to show just how EASY it is. Because Oliver doesn't even register it. He just laughs and goes: “Hey Brucie! Miss me?”

Batman 5, League 0

Dinah Lance

Of course, immediately after above, he turns and pouts at canary.

Bruce: “Dinah darling, you are a saint, I don’t know how you put up with the mess he’s got on his face. He was so much nicer to kiss when we were in (fancy private school name drop) together and didn’t have all this nonsense.”

Dinah, laughing at Ollie’s offended noises: “Oh, I don’t mind it. He’s a good kisser.”

Bruce: “Of course he is, I taught him. Care to compare?”

Dinah: “Don’t mind if I do.”

Batman 6, league 0

Clark Kent

For Clark, Bruce is originally talking to Lois before he turns his eyes on a quiet Clark and croons: “So, Miss Lane, does this lovely specimen have his own questions, or is he arm candy? And if he’s the latter, can I either tempt him off you, or secure an invitation?”

Lois, an excellent friend who will absolutely set Clark up with the hottest bachelor in Gotham: “Well, Mister Wayne, I’ve got all I need. Clark, take a page from my book and honeytrap a good quote out of him, hm?”

With an obnoxious wink, she pats a spluttering Clark on the shoulder, and leaves him with a very smug Batman.

(Bonus Superbat- Clark and Bruce’s conversation is going REALLY WELL and to the point where both of them seem on board with more than a heavy makeout when Bruce puts a hand on Clarks chest.

Bruce: “Stop.”

Clark, freezing immediately: “I’m sorry, did I go too far-?”

Bruce: “No, no. I think I might be though. See, I have all of you now, and I’ve won the bet.”

Clark: “What are you- oh. Oh- HUH?”

Cue sudden and shocked revelation, Clark’s mind going a hundred miles an hour, and then skidding to a stop on- he only did this for the bet. He’s not really interested. He stopped because I went too far-

Bruce: “You only consented to a kiss without knowing my identity. Right now, I’d like to do more, if you’d let me.”

Clark has the dial-up tone ringing in his ears, he has no idea whats going on anymore, the hot billionaire and his reclusive teammate aren’t quite slotting into place, because he wants both but rhey’re so different but they’re the same but-

“Yes.”

Lois doesn’t get Clark back that night and she is delighted.)

Anyways, final results:

Batman: 7

League: 0

Reveal:

Batman talking shit about their secret identities again, Green Lantern is scoffing about it again, says something along the lines of: “You still think you’re sooooo great, huh? Hows the bet going, spooky?” Fully expecting Batman to get huffy with him.

Instead, Batman smirks.

He leans in

And purrs: “So you didn’t notice?”

The League freezes. The implications are dangling over their head. Did he… did he really?

Green Lantern, absolutely terrified: “No. no, there’s no way…”

Batman: “Oh, there absolutely was a way. I’d say you were a good kisser, but honestly? I think it might have been the euphoria of getting you to shut up.”

He turns on the rest of the league, still smirking. “I have kissed every single person who consented at least once in the time since the bet was made. Two of you with tongue. And no one has called me out on it. Now that you know it’s happened, you should be able to figure me out, so whoever can tell me my real name first, wont get thier story used as an example in the brand new “how to avoid honeypots” seminar.”

(If bonus superbat, B shoots Superman a Look and goes “except for you, superman, because I told you my name.” Which just ends up distracting everyone else until they get THAT story)

Diana wins bc she matched up the boys to the robins. Everyone else gets their stories told in excruciating detail. Batman rates them by kissing ability and how obvious he was on his approach. Oliver gets docked points for “texture.” Dinah gets docked points because “i griped about the exact same thing in and out of costume, how did you not notice-“

(Different reveal below)

@chaos-n-kindness @she-went-that-way @geekonaleash @redh00dsbf @howabouticallyou

#batman the playboy #autistic batman #justice leauge shennanigans #bruce wayne #long post #batman

2K notes · View notes

hellishjoel · 8 months

Text

cherry

7.6k / pairing: dbf/neighbor!joel x f!reader

Series Masterlist l Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4

summary: Joel invites you over for a movie night with your parents and Sarah out of town. How are you supposed to focus on the film with his hand on your thigh?

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), NO OUTBREAK, neighbor!joel, age gap (reader is in their early 20s while Joel is in his 40s), cursing, alcohol consumption, use of pet names, softdom! Joel AND dom!Joel (restraint by command), oral sex (m receiving), praise kink, reader titty appreciation, super descript about Joel’s bulging biceps (we all know the picture that came out with him holding onto his luggage and I have not REST)

A/N: I wrote all of this today.. I don't know what's wrong with me. I hope you enjoy! I had a lot of fun writing this, I hope these two are growing on ya'll as much as they're growing on me <33

Joel could sense the shift, his hand coming to gently cup your cheek and bring your eyes back to his. He didn’t look mad like you maybe expected of him. You could feel his jaw going slack under your thumb, your mouth sucking in the side of your cheek as you sat in awkward silence. You sort of wanted to leap out of his lap and return to the movie. But he wouldn’t let you, he planted you there with his hand on your hip and forced you to look at him. You teetered your wine glass on his shoulder. “You wanna kiss me?” His voice was barely above a whisper, causing a few syllables to be cut out due to the raspiness. You slowly nod. A beat passes. “Why won’t ya let me then?”

A few times throughout the summer, the lakehouse was yours and yours alone. While on vacation, your parents always make it a point to go out to dinner and drinks with their old friends that lived in a neighboring town, leaving you in blissful solitude.

You used to go with them when you were younger, too young to be left home alone. You’d hang out with their son, Nathan, on the tire swing or go swimming in their pool.

Once you and Nathan both turned thirteen, you found that Nathan was involved in a lot of sports leagues that summer, and therefore he wasn’t going to be around much. Your parents didn’t want to punish you and force you to hang out with four grown adults all day, so they let you stay behind at the lakehouse.

It was your first sense of freedom, taking care of yourself, having your own routine. You remember breaking into your piggy bank and riding your bike into town with Sarah that day to play at the arcade. You came back home with your lackluster arcade prizes and made mediocre hot dogs. It was a little lonely, the house often bustling with noise from your parents, but it was also serene to be alone.

Needless to say, you were at peace to wave your parents off this morning as they backed out of the driveway and left you and the lakehouse for the day.

Your eyes flitted over to the Miller’s. Both Joel’s pickup truck and Sarah’s used and abused 2000’s red Saturn were parked in the shade. Part of you couldn’t believe Sarah could even drive. That five-year-ish age difference felt even more profound as young adults.

You tried to find ways to busy yourself tonight until your date with Joel. Date? Not a date. Hang out. Movie night. Meet up. Rendezvous. Literally any other word besides date.

You needed to distract yourself because tonight was a ways away.

You busied yourself with cleaning your room and bathroom, followed by reading on the dock. When it got too warm, you took a refreshing dip in the lake, followed by some leisurely sunbathing. After a shower, you found solace in jotting down your thoughts in your journal, channeling any residual nerves about the upcoming night.

You found that documenting your summer experiences provided you with a sense of clarity. You aimed to revisit these entries later in life, reminiscing about the intensity of your emotions. These pages held memories of your first boyfriend, the elation of passing your driving test, the ache of lost friendships, and the journey to college.

After the bonfire, before you couldn’t even think about sleeping, you were ferociously writing in your journal. The way your heart raced, the way you were so proud of yourself for taking a leap of faith with Joel. Because it was so, so worth it.

In the decades to come, the memories you once experienced that felt so fresh would naturally fade. That’s the point of your journals, to document how deeply you felt about your life at the time. Pouring your emotions onto the page felt like tending to a wounded heart. In hindsight, those entries about sadness and turmoil elicited a little giggle. Your mom always told you that it was better to feel anything than not to feel at all.

You wondered how much Joel felt, like, really felt. On the surface, he was as cold and unmoveable as stone. What was he like with his passions and the people he cared about? You knew he loved Sarah to an unimaginable degree. He would do anything for her. But besides his own blood, what were the things he cared about?

After putting pen to paper, you shoved your journal under your pillow and started to get ready. You over-dicked-around, and now the clock was ticking.

You wanted to look somewhat nice. After your recent interactions with Joel, one where you quite literally looked like you just rolled out of bed, you were keen on looking at least somewhat presentable.

But it was a movie night, after all, and you wanted to be comfortable. You opted to wear something simple, not too date-ey, not too casual. But you did wear Joel’s hoodie. It wasn’t for any overt purpose but because Joel’s house consistently seemed to mimic an icebox. Joel struck you as someone who could thrive in Alaska, content in solitude amid the cold.

The hoodie still smelled like him, mixed with a little residual bonfire smoke, but his scent was still deeply lodged into the fabric. A navy hoodie with fraying material around the neckline and cuffs. Well-worn and well-loved. He must have loved it enough not to take it to work because it was free of any stains and rips from what you could tell.

You twirled your finger around the hoodie’s strings, looking yourself over slowly in the mirror. Your eagerness practically floated you over to Joel’s house, Sarah’s car now gone. She must have left for her camping trip.

After taking cautious steps up Joel’s rickety porch, you sent a rhythmic knock against the Miller’s front door. You heard a few heavy steps on the other side, hearing a lock flip before Joel appeared in front of you.

“It’s about time, I was starting to sweat.” You said as you pulled open the screen door that divided you two before walking past him, catching his subtle eye roll as you did so.

The house looked like the same as it did ten years ago. Lots of dark wood, a cozy living room with a fireplace, and a lamp in the corner by the window. Joel had the perfect view of the lake. You naturally gravitated further into the room to look at the water glisten as the last hits of sunshine glided over the horizon.

“You want somethin’ to drink?”

Your head snapped to Joel, your arms already crossed at the cooler temperature piercing through the material of your clothes.

“Yeah, what do you have?” Your small steps trekked into the kitchen, finally taking a full look at Joel. Your face faltered at the sight of him.

Joel had traded in his usual tattered green flannel for a nicer, cleaner denim button-up. He had on his staple worn-in jeans, and for whatever reason, he still had on his work boots. But his hair was sort of run-through, freshly showered and combed back. He looked handsome, clean, like he was trying.

You slyly smiled at him. He seemed to quickly catch your drift, already avoiding your eye contact with a huff. “I got... Whiskey,”

“Ew, no.”

“Root beer,”

“Nope.”

Joel let out an excruciatingly long sigh as he ducked his head further into the depths of his fridge, mumbling something about you being a piece of work.

“It’s water, or,” with a groan, he stood up from the fridge, “this bottle of wine. Probably old.”

Old? The bottle looked nothing but. No dust, fresh label, barely chilled. You didn’t want to call out the poor man for trying to make tonight classy, but you knew Joel had purchased this bottle of wine for tonight. For you.

If it were any other date or any other guy, you would have pushed his nose into it a bit. Teased them for caring and being so sweet. But this wasn’t any other guy, this was Joel. And if you ever tried to admit that you saw right through him, he would clam up for the rest of the evening out of his adorable bashfulness. So you let it be. For now.

“Wine’s good.” You say casually with a little nod, trying to relax your cocky smile. Even when he turned around to fetch some old wine glasses inside the very top of a kitchen cabinet, you could tell he was satisfied with himself. Hiding a smile with his back turned.

You pulled the bottle closer to read the label. You rolled it around in your hand, your thumb tracing the stamped lettering. Cherry wine.

“Haven’t had a chance to eat all day, got us some pizzas,” Joel said as his head nodded to the side, following the direction to two pizzas still warm and in their cardboard box homes on the counter.

“Can’t have a movie night without pizza.” Your voice cooed as you set down the wine to take a peak inside, seeing all of its cheesy glory.

Joel topped off a singular wine glass, your head twisting curiously at just the one. He clinked your glass with his beer bottle, and you rolled your eyes.

“Thanks.” You murmured, turning on your heel to grab your glass and one of the pizza boxes before walking it to his living room.

You sat right in the middle of the couch, not giving Joel any excuse to sit too far away.

“Scootch,” Joel said as he motioned with his beer bottle to make room on the couch. You made a little noise of disapproval toward him.

“Mm-mm.” You shook your head.

“What?”

Your sneaker tapped the heel of his boot.

“Take those off. You can’t relax during a movie still wearing work boots.”

He looked a little perplexed before looking down at his boots. Probably forgot they were even on. They were practically his spare feet at this point.

“Fine. You too.” He said as his steel toe gently nudged your sneakers in return. You softly nodded, both of you undoing your laces. Sitting on the couch arm, Joel worked to loosen one boot and then the other, hearing the methodical snap of the laces. You slip yours off with ease, picking them up by the upper heel collar and tossing them by the door. Joel just kicked his aside and sat down next to you with a thump into the cushion.

“We’re watching Pride & Prejudice.” You commandeered the remote out of his hand, his eyebrow cocking to you in disbelief.

“The hell is that?”

Disbelief tangled your facial expression. “You’ve never seen Pride & Prejudice?”

Joel’s cocked his head to the side, face sitting like stone. Really?

“Do I look like the type’a guy that watches Pride & Prejudices?”

You rolled your eyes and huffed.

“It’s based on the novel by Jane Austen. About... literally so much. The independence of women. Societal norms relating to gender and marriage. Any of this ring a bell?”

“I know Sarah likes it. That’s about it.” Your smile quips up as you click play. “Perfect.”

“Do we have to?” His annoyance held no restraint.

“This movie night is to get back into my good graces, is it not?” You asked as your body leaned away, getting a good look at him.

Through tight lips, he held back a smile before nodding a little and turning to the opening credits. “Yes, ma’am.”

It didn’t take long for Joel’s arm to settle around your shoulders, bringing your body into his side. His thumb was stroking the hoodie you wore, his hoodie.

In his close proximity once again, your senses pick up on his now all too familiar scent; Woody, minty, a little bit of citrus from his body wash. He smelled good, you wonder if he wore cologne tonight or if this was his natural musk. You wouldn’t put it past Joel to naturally smell this good. He was good at a lot of things without even trying.

A few slices of pizza and two glasses of wine later, you started to feel the weight of Joel’s unbearably heavy arm. You released yourself from him and opted to turn and rest your side against the back of the couch cushions, putting your legs in his lap.

You hadn’t been watching the movie for the last twenty minutes. Couldn’t stop trying to subtly look at how handsome Joel looked in the flicker of the television’s light from your peripheral. You couldn’t help it. He looked so big and hot, like a lumberjack, his stupid build alone making you fold.

You bite at the inside of your cheek as Joel’s large and warm palm gently make slow strokes up and down your calf. Your body was trying not to twitch. Your heart was thrumming in your throat. You glanced up at him again, his eyes lasered in on the television.

“Why’d he…” Joel’s voice trailed off, bringing your attention back to the screen.

Your eyelashes fluttered, your brain trying to get you out of Joel Fantasy World and back into the film. “Hm? What?”

“Why’d his hand cramp like that? Why’d they film that part?” Without intention, Joel’s curiosity was evident in his question. It immediately made you smile as you watched the television again, your body slumping into his side.

“It’s not a hand cramp, he’s flexing it. It’s the film’s interpretation of his like… emotional turmoil and struggle. His feelings are evolving for Elizabeth, though he’s trying to appear all aloof and distant towards her. But their physical connection, he can’t really hide it, y’know? He can’t hide how he feels. So he flexes his hand because he’s affected by her presence and her touch. He can’t help it.”

Joel’s hanging onto every word you say. You’re not so sure if he’s interested in the film as much as he is in hearing you talk about it. The hand that was messing around on your calf was now trailing higher up your thigh. And flexing the higher it climbed.

Your eyes looked from his amber ones to his lips, your heart racing faster in your chest. With one hand still clutching your wine glass, you managed to swing one leg over his lap to straddle him. You folded first. You couldn’t take Joel’s achingly slow touches.

His enjoyment was obvious in his movements, his calloused hands slowly pushing up your thighs until they landed on the security of your waist. He was gripping the hoodie in his fists, observing your silhouette.

“This mine, too.” It wasn’t a question, he was pointing it out to you. Joel giving you his own clothes to wear was by no mistake. It was a way of marking what was his, even if it was just in his mind.

“Mine now.” Your words were whispered, leaning down and kissing at the hook of his jawline.

“Like you in it. Wear it a hell’uva lot better than I do.” The shift in his voice was clear, huskier, and a little touch drunk. The film’s volume seemed softer now, playing as white noise and falling abandoned.

His words made your stomach flip, your teeth purposely grazing against his skin. The motion made his hands trail down lower to the globes of your ass, humbly squeezing the flesh with the spans of his palms. A weak moan left your lips against his ear as he planted kisses on the inner side of your neck and on your shoulder. He was so fuckin’ greedy for you.

“Joel,” you whispered between kisses along his jawline, lips coming up to his chin as one of your hands gently cupped the side of his neck while the other clutched your wine glass for dear life.

As soon as your lips came close to his, you faltered. And Joel could tell.

Suddenly both of your eyes were open, soft, and holding contact. Your lips parted, but nothing came out. The only thing that actually came from you was a little sigh of disappointment, your eyes shyly flitting away.

Joel could sense the shift, his hand coming to gently cup your cheek and bring your eyes back to his. He didn’t look mad like you maybe expected of him.

You could feel his jaw going slack under your thumb, your mouth sucking in the side of your cheek as you sat in awkward silence. You sort of wanted to leap out of his lap and return to the movie. But he wouldn’t let you, he planted you there with his hand on your hip and forced you to look at him. You teetered your wine glass on his shoulder.

“You wanna kiss me?” His voice was barely above a whisper, causing a few syllables to be cut out due to the raspiness. You slowly nod. A beat passes. “Why won’t ya let me then?”

This was Joel’s second or so attempt to kiss you. The first time was on the tailgate of his truck, you didn’t even think about letting him kiss you in his woodshed.

You weren’t trying to remain mysterious or aloof, something he managed to do so naturally. You shifted in his lap uncomfortably, your eyes drifting to the window behind his head and watching the water shift in the black of night.

“It’s not that deep, Joel. Just don’t want anyone to get attached.” You shrug and shake your head. “I don’t know, who cares?”

“I care.” Even blasted on movie pizza and beers, he was as quick as a whip. His care wasn’t soft, it was strong. He cared like a fiercely loyal shield.

You exhaled a deep sigh, your chest reflecting your breath as he slowly brought you back to him.

“I’m scared that I’ll like it.” The movie’s distant volume was comforting white noise to your nerve-wracked conversation with Joel. This was perhaps the most you’ve talked with him in one sitting. And about something so deeply personal, too.

He took in what you said, slowly beginning to shake his head as his hand cupped more seriously against your jawline.

“”t’s just a kiss.” His tone was seductive, sincere. Whispering like no one else in the world could hear. “Kiss me.”

You didn’t feel pressured, Joel was looking at you like he genuinely cared about what you had to say. About the movie, about the kissing. He bought you wine, he got pizzas, and he’s suffering through a period drama to sit beside you on his couch. Damn you, Joel Miller.

You felt your body relax into his again, no longer cold and rigid. Your bodies meshed as you fell into the front of his chest, your hand on his neck moving up to cup his jaw. You tilted up his face and received no resistance. Just kiss him.

You met his lips, soft and sweet, delicate and gentle. Your hand slipped from his jaw and landed absentmindedly on his chest, feeling his thumping heartbeat against your palm.

You didn’t pull away. It was impossible.

He tasted like mint and whiskey, with hints of residual smoke from a cigarette earlier in the day. You wouldn’t know he smoked unless you were tasting him like you were right now.

Joel was encouraging something out of you, deep and primal, as you let the kiss deepen. He took the lead with a heady mix of softness and urgency.

He set a scorching fire between your legs, purely drunk on his lips alone. It sent a shiver down your spine how intense this stone-like man could be. Your mouths moved with desire and rhythm, feeling an electric spark that sent your senses ablaze.

Goosebumps had sprinkled across the skin of your arms, your once soft hand on his jaw now clutching him there and tugging lightly at his curly tendrils. You weren’t letting him go.

Your sounds filled the room, hot and wet kisses punching the air from both of your lungs.

A breath was shared, your forehead on his as both of your chests rose and fell together.

His eyes caught yours. More?

You gently nod. Please.

He was back with you in a hot heat, both of you wanting, no, needing more of one another.

He balanced a tantalizing fusion of passion and longing, a magnetic pull that had you grinding your hips down into his lap.

The world around you faded into a blur as you felt his tongue glide across your lower lip, asking permission. Your lips easily parted, tongues dancing and melting, your hands shaking a bit in excitement.

Joel was consuming you. His tongue marking his territory as he explored your mouth before kissing you heatedly once more. You realized that the kiss wasn’t an exploration of feelings at all, Joel wanted to languish in your taste, stake out the claim of your mouth. Taste and territory.

A low grunt left the depths of his throat as your hips ground over him with desperation now. You could feel his dick swelling against your ass.

Your lips quirked up in a smirk against his, you liked that you could feel his facial expressions, and he, yours.

Without thinking, you went to cup his face in both hands, your wine glass dropping onto Joel’s chest, and what little wine you had left was splashing his denim button-up red. He didn’t even notice.

“Joel--, wait,” you were breathless as you pulled away, his lips moving to the open expanse of your neck instead, his arms tight around your lower back. He could care less about his shirt, or the wine, or the spare glass rolling around between your stomachs.

You laughed breathlessly, closing your eyes as you kept your chests apart, careful not to get wine on his favorite sweatshirt next. Your head fell back, your hair fanning out as you grinned at the ceiling.

“Joel, your shirt is stained.” You tried to point out, both of your hands clamped onto his shoulders weakly to keep him at a distance. But his lust-filled lips had a taste of you that he couldn’t replace. His teeth grazed the soft skin of your neck, wincing lightly as you let out a broken little whimper.

“Don’t care.”

Oh my god. Fuck. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, desperate for more, but you weren’t going to let him stain one of maybe three decent shirts he owned. And with wine, you had to be fast acting.

“Come on,” you said weakly, not even convinced yourself to break away. “Joel, your shirt-”

“Don’t. Care.” He growled through gritted teeth, eyes hungry as you felt him lick a hot, slow stripe up your neck to your jaw. Fuck, he felt so good.

Despite his clear lack of empathy for his shirt, you felt bad because it was your spill, your accident to try and make up to him.

You rolled your eyes playfully and shook your head. He didn’t stop until you planted both palms against his pecs and pushed him back with little force, watching as he fell into the cushions with a lazy smirk on his face as he looked over you. Joel was drunk off your kiss.

You found your footing on the hardwood floors, grabbing his hands and attempting to pull him up and off the couch. He playfully resisted, just kept sitting there as you weakly tried again.

“Stop bein’ such a dick.” You huffed. His laugh filled the room, nearly startling you. It was always quite the opportunity to hear him laugh so big like that.

“Couldn’t pull me up no matter how hard ya try.”

“Shut up. Stand up.” You ordered with little follow-through from Joel.

He yanked his hands from yours and planted his palms onto the tops of his thighs, pushing himself off the couch and following you aimlessly to his master bathroom.

“Do you have some hydrogen peroxide? Dishwasher detergent?”

He stayed silent but looked at you quizzically. You rolled your eyes and started looking through different cabinets.

“Baking soda?” Cocking your head to him, he nods and disappears before returning to you with the little orange Arm & Hammer cardboard box.

You cleared your throat and looked at him expectantly.

“Joel, I can’t clean the shirt with you wearing it. Take it off.”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you shouldn’t have been surprised to see his lips upturned in a cocky smirk. Sometimes you just wanted to smack it clean off his face.

Fine. With a sense of ferocity, you began to take him down button by button. He lets you. He even steps closer to your body, and you try not to get distracted by him.

“I don’t wanna be the one that messes up your nice shirts.” You murmur.

“t’s fine.” He cups your cheek again and tries to divert your attention once more. He’s not even actively trying to kiss you, he just wants to get a rise out of you now. You’re trying not to smile at him in the reflection of his bathroom mirror. Your elbow jabs into his bare abdomen after you’ve peeled the wet material from his torso.

“Quit it.”

“Quit what?”

Forcing yourself to turn away from him wasn’t enough. Now he’s behind you planting kisses down the side of your neck with his hands on your waist and toying with the hem of your sweatshirt.

You had to admit being on his lap like that got you hot and bothered to the tenth degree. Now you were nursing a stained shirt and the ache in your core.

“‘lright, fine.” Oh, thank god. You could breathe again. You were this close to caving, and caving to Joel was a losing game.

He found a towel and wiped at his chest and torso while you blotted away with a paper towel the excess wine in his shirt. After getting out what you could, you sprinkled the baking soda over the little splashes of red and added a few drops of water to make somewhat of a paste. Now you just had to wait for it to dry and toss it in the laundry.

You hoped you didn’t ruin the denim shirt, you quite liked how he looked in it. The blue denim complimented the soft silver in his curls, and the cuffs rolled up accentuated his biceps.

Speaking of biceps. Your eyes innocently watched him move around the bathroom shirtless. He was somewhat toned, a handsome mix of dad bod and muscle. Like a sexy lumberjack. He was big and broad, wide in the shoulders and smaller in the waist. With all the summer log chopping, his biceps were toned.

A shaky breath left your mouth, his eyes catching yours in the mirror before you quickly looked away, washing your hands of the baking soda paste you had made.

“It’s uh… It’s good now. Just let it dry and put it in the washer. Alone. Without anything else in there.” You quickly nodded, over-clarifying again. You braved looking at him again in the mirror. Mistake. A smug little smile that beat up your guts was laced on his lips.

Your hand was quick to reach for the door handle, but his hand was already on your other wrist and pulling you into his front.

“Get back here,” Your name drips off his lips, and it’s drenched in lust.

Fuck it.

Your arms quickly wrapped around his neck, feeling his raised trap muscles under your forearms as your lips reunite with Joel’s.

Getting that first kiss between you two out of the way was a blessing in disguise because now you knew him. You were acquainted with his lips. You liked his taste, you liked how soft he was, you liked the stubble of his beard, and you liked the way his warm palms were on you as soon as you entered his space. He embraced every inch of you, his kisses were feverish, and they left your mind in a tailspin. No one had ever kissed you like this before.

You ducked your head down before he could stop you, kissing over his wine-spoiled chest. You kissed lower and lower before licking a slow stripe up his sternum, tasting residual cherry and sweetness from the wine.

Your lips parted as you looked in the mirror, realizing now that he had pinned both your wrists behind your back and planted them at your tailbone.

Your doe eyes innocently looked up at him, his face masked in desire and an appetite for you.

“Get on your knees.”

A breath hitched in your throat, your eyes trying to focus as you looked over Joel’s face. Your eyes fluttered down to his biceps, strong and defined with veins lining like rivers coursing along the curves as they held your wrists back. You didn’t hesitate to drop down to your knees.

He had let go of your wrists, so you brought your hands up to undo the button of his jeans, but he tsk-ed you.

“But I-”

“But nothing. Put your hands behind your back again.” You pouted but obeyed. You wanted to touch him.

Your lips parted as you watched Joel pop open the button of his jeans, his thumbs lining the hem of his jeans and boxers at his hips before pushing them down to his thick thighs. His cock was already half-hard from when you were grinding on him back on the couch.

Your breaths grew heavier, you couldn’t manage to stay in his hoodie. You peeled the heavy navy sweatshirt off, leaving you in nothing underneath, which earned sweet praise from Joel as soon as you laced your hands once more behind your back.

“So fuckin’ pretty.. Look at you.” He lightly leaned over and cupped one of your tits, massaging it in the heart of his palm and rolling your taut nipple around with his thumb. A quiet whine was elicited from your throat, face crumbling as your hands fought hard not to release themselves behind your back.

You wanted to touch him, cup his face, hold his thighs, wrap your hand around his dick that was flush against his stomach.

A harsher tug to your nipple left you moaning, watching as he leaned down and let a long, long dribble of spit connect from his lips down onto your chest. Your head fell back at the cool sensation, feeling it aid the heat of your breasts.

He stood up tall again, broad and towering, as you glanced over to the mirror. The dynamic was almost charming. You on your knees for Joel, his blushing cock swelling against his happy trail. He was so handsome, so greedy.

Without thinking, you released your hands from around your back and moved to steady yourself on his thighs.

“Not gonna tell you again, pretty girl.” You paused and looked to Joel. “No usin’ your hands tonight. Just that dirty mouth a’yours.” His accent was drenched with lust, dripping like syrup.

You whined as you assumed your position with your hands away, not knowing what to expect if you tried to use them again.

You attempted to crawl closer to him, your knees practically between his slightly parted legs.

You kissed up his inner thigh, grinning lightly at the slight taste of his sweat. Your tongue kitten licked at his balls, hearing him seethe in a breath through gritted teeth. Sensitive, a little wrinkled, lightly groomed just for you. It made you smirk that he cared enough to trim.

You tested the waters, letting your warm mouth coat him in saliva, going from one ball to the other until they were both practically dripping. His cock was twitching for your attention, but Joel was above begging and groveling. For now.

With devilish eyes, you looked up to him as you suckled one of his balls. He didn’t stop you, just cursed a little under his breath as his chest moved faster. You picked up the suckling from him when he nursed your sensitive, throbbing clit between his teeth and tongue. Now, it was your turn to repay the favor.

Your lips released him with a pop, and you watched as Joel let out a breath he was holding in. His hand loosely fisted your hair in a loose ponytail atop your head, a little moan leaving your mouth as your scalp tingled with his tug.

Your eyes closed as you worked over the other ball, suckling and licking and doing it all just to watch his cock grow angrier and more jealous of the attention. Your own spit was falling down your lips and chin, coating your breasts in a glistening sheen.

Working without your hands, you used your core to balance yourself against Joel. Your knees dug uncomfortably into the floor. He liked watching you work to suck him off.

You had to look to Joel for assistance, his shaft so hardened now against his stomach that you couldn’t reach. You sat up as straight as you could, Joel smirking down at you and watching you struggle for a few brief moments. “Come ‘ere, pretty girl.” He used the free hand not tangled in your locks to guide his tip down to your open mouth, your lips wrapping loosely around the head.

You made the mistake of releasing him out of habit, whimpering as your knees scrambled on cold tile to get him back to the warmth of your mouth. He opted to help you again, guiding his tip onto your red, wine-stained tongue.

This time, you learned not to release him. Your tongue salivated his tip, swollen and sensitive. You could tell by how tight Joel clutched your hair and nearly pulled you off.

You smirked lazily around him as you took him deeper, your watery eyes on his as you interlocked your fingers by your tailbone.

You were slow at first, little nods back and forth, up and down his shaft. You blinked through any residual tears, slicking him up with your spit and proceeding farther down his shaft. You clenched your eyes closed and choked lightly as you took him to his base, a low groan of praise leaving Joel as his thumb stroked up your cheekbone.

“Fuck me, so fuckin’ good for me, darlin’.” His words were broken by his rasp, but the praise sent you into overdrive.

You bobbed your head at a good pace, Joel guiding you by your hair up and down his shaft, slicked by excess saliva that was dripping onto your tits and your stomach. You had to take a breath, but you learned from earlier. Your head came to rest against his thigh, head foggy as his tip sat plump against your cheek. You looked at the two of you in the mirror, and it was quite a sight.

Joel’s body was planted by his heels, his toned torso and biceps protruding with hints of sweat. You had black-smudged tears on your waterline, and your face was filled with warmth. Your hair was a mess, Joel gently stroking it back from your sweat-glistened forehead as you breathed through your nose. You liked watching you work in the mirror. Watching him get ruined in the mirror. Watching yourself get ruined in the mirror.

You started your rhythm again, this time your eyes locked loosely on the mirror in your peripheral. Joel’s cock made you choke each time you took him deep, but you didn’t let it stop you. He was so close, you had the heady taste of his precum on your tongue. He liked it messy.

“Fuck- can’t,” Joel let out a rugged moan, it felt like it vibrated the tiles under your aching knees. Your wrists were throbbing from keeping your arms back, hands clenched together tight as you followed his rules. “Can’t hold on when you take me so-- so goddamn good.”

You whimper-whined against his cock, hollowing your cheeks as you moved with intent up and down his shaft. You opted just to take what you easily could now, focused on keeping the pace and working towards his orgasm. You thought about Joel fucking your mouth, but he wanted you to feel some sense of control since you had your hands back. Maybe you wanted to lose all control. If it was Joel you were losing it with.

Joel was close, he couldn’t hold back how messy he had gotten. He had a steel-tight grip on your hair, and his breaths were laced with broken moans and grunts of your name. He kept wiping away any tears that slipped past your eyes and onto your cheeks, despite being devastatingly close to an orgasm you knew he was drunk on.

“Yeah, fuck me,” He murmured under his breath, his cock twitching deep in your throat now. “Take me so well... The fuckin’ best, babygirl.” The best.

You watched through blurry, head-dizzy vision as Joel’s ab muscles contorted. “Gonna cum, baby, stay with me.” He panted, eyes locking on yours as you nodded on his shaft and continued your sweet rhythm.

You whimpered as his tip pulsed against your tongue, going down on him as deep as you could and clenching your eyes closed, waiting for Joel’s impending climax. And he kept you there as he painted your throat white.

His cum came out in hot ropes, moaning lowly against his shaft as you focused on tasting him and breathing through your nose. He was salty, little beads landing in the back of your throat as you swallowed around him.

Joel’s moans were glorious, breathy, and aching to say your name. His eyes had fallen closed, his stance still tall and broad. You wanted to touch him, kiss him. You decided to lay your head against his thigh, still breathing around his dick as you watched yourself in satisfaction through his mirror.

“Fuck,” he murmured low, pulling you off of him with a pop. Your jaw lightly throbbed, but god, you felt like you were in the clouds.

“Hands?” Your raw voice whimpered. He gave a silent nod of approval, and with his permission, you released your interlocked hands and lightly toppled back on your ass, leaning against the door to his linen closet.

Joel observed you for a few moments, making sure you were okay before he grabbed a spare washcloth and ran some lukewarm water over it. Your eyes peeked open when you heard his zipper go up on his jeans, seeing he had straightened out his bottom half.

You tried to focus your vision, seeing him squat down beside you and lightly press the cold washcloth to your temple, cheeks, and up your neck. It helped, you were settled, safe, and with Joel.

“Holy fuck.” You finally said once you had come down from your high. Your eyes met Joel’s, seeing both of your mouths were quirked up in lopsided smiles.

“Too much?” He asked, the washcloth now delicately cleaning up the saliva on your breasts.

You slowly shook your head. No, never too much. Just new.

You looked around, feeling an ache in your knees and in your wrists. You rolled your wrists in circles to relieve some pressure on the joints before you pushed your palms up and down your kneecaps gently.

“Hey,” Joel’s words caught your attention, turning to him as he lightly cupped your cheek. “You were fuckin’ perfect, darlin’.” A weak mewl left you, a tired smile on your lips.

“You said the best.”

“Was perfect. Was the best. Did a perfect job.” His praise punched excitement through your veins, regaining your strength to stand back up with Joel’s honorable assistance. You murmur a thanks before you make a grab for Joel’s hoodie. As if he was going to steal it back from you.

Joel excused himself to go clean up the kitchen, leaving an attentive kiss on your cheek before he left you alone.

You took a few minutes to rinse some water around in your mouth and try to brush your fingers through your knotted, matted hair.

“Need to get yourself a brush, Mr. Miller.” You murmur as you pass him in the kitchen, seeing he pulled on a new t-shirt and that he had put some of the leftover pizza in spare Tupperware containers.

“Can’t eat it all by myself, and Sarah won’t be home for a few more days.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. He could so totally finish that pizza if he wanted to. He could do it tonight as soon as you leave.

Reading your mind, he shoved the container into your hands. “Just-- fuckin’ take it, why you gotta make things so damn difficult.”

You smirked and patted the container softly. “My specialty. Irritating old grouchy men.”

He rolled his eyes and shook his head at you, picking up the wine bottle next and figuring out what to do with it. Your eyes softened, watching the gears turn in his head for how he was going to handle this situation.

“Do you care if I take the rest of it home, actually? I know it’s yours, and it’s been yours for a while, but it was really good.” Lame excuse. Joel leaned into it though, nonetheless. You were at Joel’s side now, looking to him with gentle eyes and a tender smile. He teetered on his feet for a moment before he nodded and handed it over.

“Yeah, you’re doin’ me a favor so it doesn’t just keep sittin’ in the fridge.”

You nodded softly and tried to jam the cork back in as well as you could, Joel swiftly taking the bottle from you and popping it back into its home with ease due to his sheer strength.

You turned to the television and huffed, seeing the credits of Pride & Prejudice roll. Dammit.

Joel joined you at your side, crossing his arms and giving the television a once over. “So did they, y’know, end up together?” There was Joel’s pure curiosity again. This time, he didn’t hide it so well.

“Guess you’ll have to watch to find out. Don’t forget to throw that shirt in the washer.” You said with a cocky grin, holding up the wine bottle and pizza leftovers in gratitude before walking to the door. Joel followed you out, and you looked at him curiously.

“Gotta make sure you get home safe.”

Your head rolled to the side, watching as he shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “What?”

“Joel, I’m staying right next door. You could see me go inside from your living room window.”

He just shook his head and looked beyond you to the water.

“t’s dark.”

Your chest fluttered with warmth, a smile on your lips growing past one you could deny. Let him have this one.

“Thanks, Joel. Thanks for the pizza and the wine and… stuff.” Now it was his turn to let you have this one. The stuff. The kiss. The multiple kisses. He didn’t make it a big deal, just rolled with the punches. You appreciated it.

You wanted to know what was next for the two of you. The feeling of your cores grazing one another set a fire in you that only Joel could put out.

You pondered whether or not to kiss him goodnight and find a lame excuse to try and thank him again for the wine bottle when you saw two pairs of headlights coming down the road.

“Shit,” you murmured under your breath, looking to Joel with a pained expression. He looked disappointed.

You didn’t say goodnight, you didn’t kiss him before you left, you just… left. You moved down Joel’s rickety wooden porch steps with haste, sneaking into the lakehouse through the garage door as your heart thrummed at a face pace. You felt like a child getting caught by your parents.

You didn’t know what to do with Joel’s pizza container and the wine. You could figure out an excuse for the pizza later, so you shoved it into the fridge, but definitely not the half-drank bottle of red wine. You double-checked that the cork was in there tight, and of course it was because Joel pushed it back in, but you couldn’t help but check because it was going to be stowed under your bed for safekeeping.

You changed out of Joel’s hoodie and into an oversized band tee, walking out of your bedroom with a book when your parents returned through the door.

“Hey, kiddo. You’re still up? ‘t’s past eleven.”

You try not to roll your eyes, biting down on the inside of your lip as you tightly nodded. “Yeah, I know. I stay up late a lot at school and stuff, working on papers or out with friends. Staying up past eleven isn’t that weird for me.”

You didn’t mean for there to be so much venom in your comment, but you weren’t a baby. Nearly every day at the lakehouse so far this summer has elicited a few don’t call me kid, I’m an adult, I make adult decisions, comments from you.

Your parents looked too tired to care, which somehow stung worse.

“Okay, sweetie, we’ll see you tomorrow morning. Your dad and I are headin’ to bed.”

Now you felt bad. You pursed your lips and nodded, putting your hands behind your back and resting them on your tailbone absentmindedly. This was the same pose Joel had you in tonight. You already wanted to go back there.

“Sorry, goodnight.” You whisper, seeing your dad give you a tired smile before patting your shoulder.

“Hey kiddo-” He paused at the nickname and took a breath. “Sorry.” You playfully smiled and shook your head. Go on.

“Do me a favor, grab the steaks out from the freezer and put them on a plate in the fridge. Wanna have Joel and Sarah over for dinner tomorrow night. Feel like I haven’t seen them all summer.”

Your face went ghastly blank, feeling yourself fall hollow like a collapsing building. If it weren’t for how tired your dad was, he would have seen right through you like a ghost. “You- Oh, you want to have them come by for dinner? I don’t think tomorrow’s gonna work. Sarah’s camping and-”

“Oh, well, Joel can still swing by for dinner. Need to eat up those steaks. Every time I open the freezer, they stare at me. They’re beggin’ me to eat them, it ain’t fair.”

You forced out a laugh, but of course, your father couldn’t tell. Just thought he made one hell of a zinger.

“So-So Joel over for dinner tomorrow night?”

“Yeah, kiddo. And don’t forget to take out the steaks. Love you.” He turned the corner down the hall, and then he was gone.

You sighed and lightly chewed at the skin around your thumbnail. Great. One big happy family dinner. And Joel.

---

here's my masterlist!

here's how to join my taglist!

@jrrmint @gracieispunk @macfrog @strang3lov3 @notjustjavierpena @bastardmandennis @joelslegalwhre @brittmb115 @casa-boiardi @nostalxgic @cool-iguana @chim-cham-blog @joeldjarin @unsteadyimagines @pattwtf @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @schnitzelwnoodles @flippittygibbitts @turtles-all-the-way-d0wn @cartoon-garbage04 @lunarxeclipse @alltheseperfectimperfections @sunnywithachanceofjavi @kyloispunk @hopplessilse @keeponlivinmanl-i-v-i-n @toxicfics @angelicnotifs @iquitedislikeithere2 @livingdeadmaria @emmalandry @worhols @radsanchez @pedritoferg @lucyeyelesbarrow @airalihmarylu @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul @suzmagine @pastawench @crazedquilter-blog @kaitangatatacos @amanitacowboy @loveisacowboyyy @kittytiddywinks @slut-for-bucky-barnes @mendessi @aphterthoughtt @chyannealaniz @pedrotonin @barbieratogabx-blog @chicville03

(idk why so many of my tags aren't working. Might make a notifications blog instead where you'd follow it and turn the notifications on and I'll only reblog my work on that account. ugh a problem for another day, okay ily ttyl I'm gonna go watch twilight)

1K notes · View notes

bradshawssugarbaby · 5 months

Text

Uptown Girl - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: Bradley is in love with the admiral's daughter. He needs to win her heart the best way he knows how - serenading her with the help of his friends.

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x reader

warnings: swearing, Jake teasing Bradley about being old.

word count: 2k

“Man, I can’t just go talk to her.”

Bradley put his head in his hands as he sat at the back of the Hard Deck with his friends. Running his long fingers through his short, golden-brown curls, he sighed before looking up, his hazel eyes full of anxiety and frustration. He’d been pining after a girl who’d become a regular at the local bar for a while - the first day he’d seen her, he was smitten.

She’d come in with her long hair pulled back into a sleek, high ponytail, a warm, friendly smile on her features as she spoke with a few others in the bar. Bradley had wondered who she was, and where she’d come from, a question none of his squadron seemed to know the answer to. That was, until their team lead, and Bradley’s surrogate father of sorts, piped up with an explanation, having heard Bradley audibly swooning over how great she was to everyone in earshot.

“That’s Admiral Simpson’s daughter. I wouldn’t try your luck there, if I were you, Bradley,” Maverick had warned, smirking as he took a sip from his beer glass as he looked over between Bradley and his mystery girl.

Bradley had gone quiet upon learning this information, unable to even fire back at his friend Jake’s retorts and quips about how Bradley was punching above his weight on this one, even as a skilled aviator. In a way, Jake was right, no amount of skill or experience in the air, no number of awards for his service, or medals of honor could put him in the same league as the Admiral’s daughter. Her father had recently become the commander of the entire Pacific fleet, and Bradley was just a lieutenant, serving as an aviator for the past 19 years, his entire naval career.

At nearly 40, Bradley was beginning to consider retirement, weighing his options between becoming a flight instructor for Top Gun, the very flight academy program that he’d graduated from himself, or, ending his naval career to enter civilian life happily. With the exception of Maverick, the rest of his team were considerably younger than he was, the next oldest being Jake, at barely 35. Admiral Simpson’s daughter was easily a decade younger than him, if not more, and probably accustomed to much more in life than anything Bradley could offer her. Naval rank aside, she was likely much more used to living the life of luxury, where as Bradley had never really experienced it, outside of the odd frivolous purchase here or there, like his 1972 Ford Bronco, custom painted bright blue to restore it to its former glory when he purchased it.

Despite all these reasons why Bradley should just forget this juvenile feeling crush he’d developed on her, he couldn’t shake it. Every time he caught a glimpse of her stunning smile, or heard her infectious laugh, the sweetest sound his ears had ever come across, he couldn’t help but fall right back into it again, like a trap that was set perfectly for him. Bradley was head over heels, but worst of all,

“You’re fucked, man. You can’t win here.”

Bradley sighed again as he shook his head, bringing himself back to the present moment. He looked up at Jake, who, upon seeing the confused look on Bradley’s face, laughed and repeated himself.

“I said, you’re fucked, man. There’s no winning here, you either go in there, you say hi to this girl and you ask her out, her dad finds out and you get your ass shipped out to another base faster than you can salute, or you ask her out and she turns your old ass down, either way, you’re going to end up unhappy and not with her,” Jake shrugged as he sipped his beer, leaning on his pool cue.

Bob, the more shy, reserved of Bradley’s team, shook his head. He pushed his glasses up on the end of his nose, adjusting them as he set his plastic cup down on the bar counter, shrugging his shoulders as he interjected, a rare occurrence for Bob, most of the time.

“I mean…Bradley could probably win her over,” He said quietly, nodding his head, “It wouldn’t be hard, I mean, he has an impressive career record, he’s a nice guy, he’s not bad to look at,” Bob shrugged, “I think he could pull it off. It’s her dad I’d be worried about. But, maybe he wouldn’t care so much? It’s not like Bradley’s gonna – what’s that term again? Hump and go? Surf and turf?”

“You mean hump and dump?” Jake snickered, shaking his head, “I think Brad here’s a bit old to pull off the hump and dump nowadays anyways. Maybe 20 years ago.”

“Easy, I only just turned 39 in June, thanks.”

“39 is practically old enough to be a grandfather, Bradley,”

“Oh come on, it is not,” Bradley frowned as he looked at his friends. Bob fiddled with his glasses nervously, avoiding eye contact, Jake smirked as he held back a laugh, and Reuben and Mickey pretended they didn’t hear the conversation, focusing instead on their game of darts taking place a couple of feet away, “Is it?”

“How many years older than you is Mav, man?”

“I dunno,” Bradley shrugged his shoulders, “22, maybe? 23?”

“Right, so when he was 39, you were…?”

“Uh,” Bradley looks up at the ceiling as he counts in his head, trying to work out the math, “16?”

“Right…you see where I’m going with this?”

“Fuck, you’re right, I could be someone’s grandfather. Jesus Christ,” Bradley frowned, shaking his head as he sipped his beer again.

“Relax, you’d have to had a kid at like, 23 or earlier, who also had a kid young for it to work, but it’s not impossible, is all,” Jake nodded matter of factly as he sipped his drink. Jake grinned as he spotted the girl in question walking by their seats, his elbow sharply poking Bradley in the ribcage as he nodded his head slightly in her direction.

“Now’s your chance, loverboy. Take it now if you’re gonna shoot your shot,” Jake whispered with a smirk on his lips.

Bradley nodded his head once and took a deep breath as he set his beer bottle down on the table. With a nervous smile, he put his aviators down over his eyes to hide their anxious gaze before heading over to the piano. If there was one thing Bradley could do to win her over, it’d be serenading the bar with a fun, classic upbeat tune. Normally, he’d go for his favourite, Great Balls of Fire by Jerry Lewis, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Bradley put a hand on Jake’s shoulder, his grip firm as he leaned in to whisper to him.

“How confidently can you sing Uptown Girl?”

“You mean like, “uptown girl, she’s been living in her uptown world, I bet she’s never had a backstreet guy…?” Jake laughed as he cocked his eyebrow, singing the chorus of the song in his slightly off key baritone, “Oh, you’re not seriously doing this, are you?” He drawled, shaking his head before shooting Bob, Reuben and Mickey a look of disbelief.

“I love that song!” Bob said enthusiastically as he stood to his feet, “We’ve got your back, buddy, let’s go win her heart!”

Jake rolled his eyes and laughed before following Bradley and his friends to the piano. Bradley took his seat on the piano bench, lowering his sunglasses to make eye contact with his dream girl’s gaze, a confident smirk on his face as he winked at her before putting his glasses back on. He wasn’t sure if it was the beer coursing through his veins or the sheer smitten head over heels side of him taking over, but his new found confidence had Bradley playing the opening bars of the 80s hit on the piano, his friends offering nothing but encouragement for his somewhat ridiculous idea. It wasn’t the smoothest way to get a girl’s attention, but, it was different, and would almost certainly stand out in her mind, he reasoned with himself.

“Uptown girl, she’s been living in her uptown world. I bet she’s never had a backstreet guy, I bet her momma’s never told her why,”

Bradley sang out, his deep, gravelly voice ringing out as he carried each note perfectly in tune as he played the song’s melody on the piano.

“And now she’s looking for a downtown man, that’s what I am,”

Bradley’s eyes met with hers as he sang, unable to stop himself from smiling wider than he probably should have as he belted the song out, making it clear that out of the crowd of people around them singing along, his full intent was just to get her attention on him.

“And when she knows what she wants from her time, and when she wakes up and makes up her mind,”

Bob, Jake, Reuben and Mickey harmonized alongside Bradley, making for a perfectly imperfect set of backing vocals. While none of the four of Bradley’s backup singers were particularly great singers, their harmonies were enough support for Bradley to carry his way through the song without looking like he’d just lost his mind and started breaking out into song.

“She’ll see I’m not so tough, just because, I’m in love with an uptown girl, you know I’ve seen her in her uptown world. She’s getting tired of her high class toys, and all her presents from her uptown boys, she’s got a choice,”

As Bradley continued to sing it out, with his friends as moral and vocal support, he noticed that his mystery girl was making her way closer to the piano, seemingly leaving behind whoever she had arrived with as she inched her way towards the man who was apparently serenading her in the middle of a crowded bar near a naval base. She flashed him a smile, her cheeks a soft blush as she raised an eyebrow at him. Bradley couldn’t tell if the blush in her features was from embarrassment or flattery, but he hoped it was the latter of the two.

“And when she’s walking, she’s looking so fine, and when she’s talking, she’ll say that she’s mine,”

Bob and Jake began dramatically singing with one another, using Jake’s empty beer bottle as a makeshift microphone, while Mickey excitedly drummed along with his hands on the wooden top of the piano. Reuben began dancing slightly as he sang along to the words, all four men now completely immersing themselves in their performance with Bradley, and all four likely contemplating how they’d get Bradley to repay them for their public humiliation in the name of getting him a potential date.

Bradley grinned as she approached the piano, her hands resting on the wooden top as he played the last few notes of the song, his eyes completely fixated on hers. To him, at that moment, she was the only person in the room. The only face he cared about in the crowded bar was hers, and now, it was right here, standing in front of him.

“You’ve got quite the talent,” She curled her sheer, gloss-coated lips up into a grin as she leaned on the top of the piano, looking directly at Bradley.

“I’m a man of many talents, this was just a couple of them on display,” He nodded his head once, trying to keep his composure as she leaned towards him, willing his eyes to not wander down her body, “I’m Bradley. Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw, US Naval Air Force,” He said his title with a sense of pride that he hoped didn’t come off as bragging.

“Nice to meet you, Lieutenant,” She grinned, pointing to his empty beer bottle that sat atop the piano beside her, “Care to grab another one of those with me?”

“Absolutely,” Bradley said as he hopped off the piano bench at an almost breakneck pace, leaving Jake, Bob, Reuben and Mickey fighting off fits of laughter at Bradley’s eagerness.

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you

664 notes · View notes